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azzifuddslover · 2 days ago

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UNRAVEL - chapter six

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

tw: swearing, light sexual content (not much detail)

themes: angst, jealousy

word count: 6.7k

a/n: um… hey! first of all, i’m so sorry for disappearing for like a month. school has been kickin my ass 🥲 anyway, i have been contemplating continuing this series and was so convinced i’d never write again. obviously i decided against that! this chapter really started pickin up the pace and WHAT ABOUT IT. please go easy on me i understand this is awfully written, but keep in mind i haven’t actually wrote anything since early january. lemme know how y’all feel about this chapter, maybe even share ur live reactions? i would love that! enjoy and happy munch madness pookies

soaking up the high of an absolute blowout of a game, paige and azzi walk giddily to the blonde’s apartment, with paige leading the way. their giggles echo throughout the hallway matched with ear to ear grins. paige casually unlocks her apartment door, glances over her shoulder and pulls azzi into the open space by her jersey.

azzi lets out a louder laugh, her dimples popping out as she stumbles into the room. paige places both hands on either side of the brunette, keeping her stable and balanced.

“you played so good today,” paige tells her, locking eye contact.

azzi smiles, her cheeks flushed from both the game and their proximity. “you think so?” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

paige’s grin grows at her comment, her eyes softening as she leans in, pressing her lips gently to azzi’s cheek. she moves her hand to cup the back of her head, holding her closer. the contact is light but warm, only causing azzi to flush more.

“yeah,” paige whispers, her voice lower, “you were incredible.”

azzi’s grip on paige’s shirt unknowingly tightens, her body mere inches away from the blonde’s. she ducks her head, suddenly shy.

paige steps backward, dragging azzi with her until they’re both seated on her bed— close enough that their thighs are full on touching. paige’s hand never leaves azzi’s frame.

azzi opens her mouth, eyes searching paige’s face. after a moment of hesitation, she closes it, unsure how to approach this topic.

paige notices— of course— and scrunches her eyebrows. “what’s wrong?”

“what, nothing,” azzi shakes her head, “i just need to tell you something.”

trying not to jump to conclusions, although she can feel her heart begin to race, she says, “okay.”

azzi loosens her grip on paige’s shirt, “someone asked me out on a date.”

definitely not what paige expected— worse, even. “a guy?”

azzi waits a moment before nodding, her lips creating a line.

paige feels a knot form in her stomach, the words hitting her harder than they should— as her best friend. she forces herself to remain calm, her eyes flicking to azzi’s face, searching for any sign of how she’s feeling about it. “what’d you say?”

azzi’s expression is unreadable as she glances away, almost ashamed in a way. “i said yes,” she whispers, “his name’s tyler, he’s pretty nice.”

paige nods, plastering a soft smile on her face regardless of her disappointment. “that’s great, azzi. really. i’m happy for you,” she says, though her voice doesn’t quite match the enthusiasm she’s attempting to project.

azzi looks at her, clearly noticing a subtle shift in paige’s tone. she bites her lip, her gaze continuing to flick between her friend’s face and the floor. “thank you, p,” she mumbles.

silent for a minute, paige clears her throat, “‘course, az,” her voice is gentle. she shifts slightly on the bed, creating a small distance between her and the brunette.

“i think you’d like him,” azzi speaks up, “he’s really sweet. good looking, too,” she exhales a weak laugh.

paige only hums in response, looking down. “maybe,” she agrees, “if you’re happy, that’s all i care about. i just want you happy.”

azzi’s heart swells in her chest at the sincerity behind paige’s words. god. she scoots closer, their thighs brushing against each others once again. the brunette leans in, connecting her full lips to the area below paige’s ear, staying there a second longer then she should.

a pleased sigh escapes paige’s lips, her body tensing from the unexpected closeness.

“love you, p,” azzi mutters, quiet enough that paige is unsure if she said it at all.

instead of responding, paige turns toward azzi, offers a kind smile and stands. “alright, come on,” she holds her hands out for the younger girl; when their hands meet, she tugs her up into a standing position. “let’s get showered and then we can grab some food. sound good?”

azzi nods, already thinking of the food she’s been craving. she feels paige squeeze her hands before dropping them, turning away to find some comfortable clothes.

going through the motions, paige cannot help but feel a sense of unease settle in her chest. it’s not a full blown feeling, but more of a quiet, nagging discomfort she can’t quite shake. azzi has a date. azzi. her best friend. her azzi— going on a date with someone that’s not her.

she shallows dryly, making primal effort to shut these feelings down. it fails, to say the least. her mind continues to wonder back to azzi’s words, almost in a haunting manner. someone asked me out on a date. fuck.

after paige and azzi had dinner, enjoying each others company and having unnecessarily long conversations, azzi heads off to her room she shares with caroline.

paige brushes a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and sighs, her mind racing with the way azzi had smiled at her and her soft giggles that make her stomach flutter for no reason at all. she takes a deep breath, suddenly deciding to pull out her phone and text nika.

p: i’m coming over

the walk is short before paige is standing at nika’s door, knocking lightly— she pushes the door, finding it open, entering without waiting for a response. nika looks up from where she’s sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone.

“hey,” nika nods once, “what’s up?”

the blonde crosses her arms, trying to appear more casual than she really is. “azzi has a date,” her voice betrays her by cracking on the last word, the sudden tightness in her throat making it sound much weaker than intended.

nika raises her eyebrows, obviously shocked at paige’s statement. “a date? with who?”

paige shrugs, “a guy named tyler. i don’t know, she didn’t go into much detail— just said ‘he’s nice, i think you’d like him,’” she scoffs softly, her voice growing quiet, “like i could ever fucking like someone who’s after azzi.”

nika knowingly smirks, playing with the tips of her brown hair. “why not? i thought you said she’s your best friend— nothing more. what happened to that?” she tilts her head, teasing her friend.

paige’s cheeks flush, her gaze dropping to the floor. “cmon, nik,” she mutters, leaning her head against the wall, “i don’t know— it’s complicated, okay? i mean, she is my best friend. but sometimes, it’s just more than that. i hate it.” (she loves it.)

the croatian’s expression softens, feeling paige’s frustration radiating off her. she sets her phone down, leaning forward slightly. “you know, it’s okay to admit it, p. everyone can see how much you feel for her.”

a shaky breath escapes the blonde’s lips, her eyes shutting for a second. “fuck,” she mumbles, embarrassment washing over her features. “is it really that obvious?”

nika smiles, her voice gentle. “yeah, it is, but that’s not a bad thing, paige. it just means you’re human— you’re allowed to feel this way.” she pauses, letting the words settle for a moment. “you don’t have to figure everything out all at once, take your time. but i’m always here whenever you need me, you know that, right?”

paige walks towards nika, taking a seat next to her on the couch. she squeezes her friend’s hand, conveying her appreciation. “thank you, nik.”

“always,” nika nods, “and if it makes you feel any better about this whole date thing, azzi hasn’t mentioned him to any of us. if she likes him so much, don’t you think she’d at least tell caroline?” she raises an eyebrow, eyes widening slightly.

paige tilts her head in thought, “caroline doesn’t even know?”

“not that i’m aware of,” nika replies, “so i’m sure she doesn’t like him too much. plus, i’ve seen the way she looks at you. you can’t fake that, lemme tell ya.”

paige meets her friend’s eyes. “what way?” she asks, her voice curious.

the corners of nika’s lips curve into a grin, “like you hung the goddamn moon. she loves you, p.”

paige exhales quietly, her gaze dropping. “she wouldn’t go on a date with someone else if she loved me,” she suddenly rises from her seated position, heading for the door. “thanks, nika. i’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

the croatian nods once, understanding that paige needs to be alone right now. “see you, paige.”

with a final glance over her shoulder, paige offers a small, appreciative smile before stepping out and into the hallway.

the walk back to her room is silent, but her mind continues to drift back to azzi— her best friend, the one she trusts and loves most, and now, the one with a date.

why can’t azzi see it? why can’t azzi see her? she’s willing to do anything for her, yet here she is, going out with someone else. a guy, to make matters worse. paige would fucking climb mount everest in the dead of winter, down, and up again, just for azzi. all for her.

flopping onto her messy bed, she stuffs her face into a pillow— she screams.

you could hear the obnoxious chants and cheers of the gampel pavilion all the way in the locker room, where the uconn women’s basketball team prepares for their game. the excitement outside was palpable, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation.

paige leans against her locker, eyes scanning her teammates who were also getting ready until they found a set of very familiar brown eyes. azzi only offers a half smile which paige doesn’t return.

the two haven’t spoken— besides easygoing conversations during practices— in a few days, ever since azzi left paige’s room after mentioning her date. they haven’t even texted, which they’ve done everyday since meeting during USA basketball all those years ago. it’s unusual— azzi hates it.

the brunette breaks eye contact, looking down to tie her shoes. her pulse is steady, yet her thoughts are pure chaos. why wasn’t paige talking to her? did she say something to upset her?

a loud cheer from the stands outside broke her from the over consuming thoughts. azzi glances up only to find paige’s eyes still dead set on her, unwavering. the sophomore didn’t look away. she couldn’t.

without breaking eye contact, paige slowly tugs her shirt off, revealing her toned stomach and her, only in a sports bra. the motion was deliberate, controlled, almost in a teasing manner. azzi’s cheeks flush, her gaze flicking down to her chest, then back up to paige’s face.

paige, making sure to keep her eyes on azzi’s, slips on her jersey, then her warm up shirt over top. she makes it a point to move slow, liking azzi’s gaze on her— liking it even more when that gaze lowers.

paige was enjoying this— enjoying how azzi’s eyes that she loved so much seemed to follow her every movement. even when paige finished dressing, azzi’s eyes momentarily fell again, soaking in the sight of paige.

quickly, however, paige straightens, her focus shifting entirely. she tied her shoelaces and was out of the locker room before anyone else, leaving azzi behind, and speechless.

this is going to be a long game.

driving towards the basket, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor floods paige’s ears.

she throws it up, getting hit on the arm. the whistle blows instantly as the ball swooshes through the net.

“yeah p!” kk yells, holding her hand out for a high five.

the players on the floor huddle paige, who continues to gather her breath. azzi hesitates to take the place next to paige, but nods in her direction regardless. “nice shot,” she tells her, her voice light.

paige exhales before placing a hand on azzi’s lower back, just above her waistband. it’s a gesture she uses with all their teammates, yet it speeds up the pace of azzi’s heart nonetheless.

paige easily makes the free throw, and the game resumes to their usual quick momentum. azzi makes most of her shots, only missing two off of bad passes while paige collects 23 points off midrange jumpers and driving layups. the two get pulled out during the fourth quarter, both out of breath but satisfied with their game tonight.

“you played well,” paige notes, nodding once at the younger girl.

azzi— still flustered at their little moment in the locker room— glances at paige, cheeks turning a light shade of red at the compliment. “thanks. you did, too,” she responds, choosing her words carefully.

paige’s gaze lingers on azzi for a beat too long, taking in her features that are coated in sweat— yet she manages to still look good.

the two watch the game in silence, not bothering to continue their conversation. they focus on the players that usually don’t play, hyping them up and cheering whenever their shot falls. it isn’t until azzi decides she’s had enough that she speaks up.

“are you mad at me?” she asks, making sure to keep her tone causal and calm. she doesn’t want to upset paige further by raising her voice.

paige scrunches her eyebrows, clearly caught off guard at her sudden question. “what, no? what makes you think that?”

azzi offers her a half shoulder shrug, “i don’t know. we haven’t talked lately; it makes me think i did something to upset you.”

“az,” paige mumbles, feeling guilty over their lack of communication over the course of the last few days. “i promise, i’m not mad. i could never be mad at you.”

with that, she scoots her leg closer, thigh coming in contact with azzi’s. she doesn’t bother meeting her eyes— although she can practically feel her staring, the silence thick between them.

azzi takes it a step further by resting her arm around paige’s chair, her fingers beginning to play with the tips of her blonde hair.

paige’s tenses, but relaxes almost as quickly, unable to ignore the warmth blooming in her chest. she tries to keep her focus on the game, but it’s difficult to ignore the way azzi lightly tugs at her hair, the soft pressure somewhat comforting.

the game winds down with the team leading by double digits. the final buzzer goes off— the team lines up, high fiving the opposing team and offering the usual “good games.”

on their way back to the locker room, after spending a couple minutes with fans and the media, paige finds herself only a couple feet behind azzi. she quickens her pace, jogging up to her best friend and throwing an arm around her shoulders.

azzi stumbles forward a little at the unexpected weight hitting her. she laughs, not hesitating to wrap her own arm loosely around paige’s waist, her fingers gripping the jersey ever so slightly.

“hi,” paige giggles, a smile clouding her serious expression that was once there.

“hey,” azzi says, her eyes immediately finding paige’s.

“wanna go to mine?”

azzi unintentionally bites her lip, nodding rapidly. paige laughs at azzi’s eager reaction and squeezes her shoulder gently.

the two make their way back to the locker room, never breaking contact. they slowly pack their bag, stuffing their shoes in along with other gear they brought.

kk nudges azzi, catching her off guard, “az, you see the coach’s face when you hit that three right in front of him?” she laughs, recalling the memory. “that’s cinematic, if you ask me.”

“i would’ve quit coaching if i were him,” ice points out, joining in on the laughter.

azzi quietly chuckles, although she’s missed the opportunity to look at his face, like they were saying.

paige, looking proud as hell, wraps her arm around her shoulder like she had before, holding her closer this time. “aren’t you guys glad i got her to come here?”

“oh please,” azzi tilts her head towards the sophomore, “i didn’t come here just for you.”

paige quirks an eyebrow, barely holding back a laugh, “okay, az, sure.”

“i didn’t, asshole!” azzi exclaims, half serious, half sarcastic. she shoves paige by the arm.

paige steps back, “mhm,” she hums, continuing to tease her.

but azzi just rolls her eyes, deciding not to entertain paige. she finishes her bag and throws it on her back before walking out and into the hallway, with paige on her trail— like usual.

she cannot help but hear paige’s annoying giggles coming from behind her. she turns her head mid walk, throwing paige a swift glare, only causing more chuckles out of her.

their walk to paige’s dorm isn’t long, but enough to make azzi throw herself on the older girl’s bed, groaning as she lays face first into the soft comforter. after a moment of silence, she turns on her side, letting out a little sigh.

paige watches her, blue eyes roaming the length of azzi’s body all laid out on her bed. she tosses her bag to the corner of the room before walking towards azzi, laying besides her, on her back.

azzi licks her lips. fuck, did she look good.

“i missed this,” paige breaks the comfortable silence while adjusting her position, now facing azzi.

“missed what?”

“us hanging out like this— talking. just me and you,” she explains, quietly. “i missed you.”

azzi, nervous all of a sudden, smirks, “wow, you’re dramatic. it was only a couple of days.”

azzi’s words hang in the air. paige’s expression shifts from soft to irritated at azzi’s response. she pulls herself up into a sitting position on the edge of her bed, her face scrunched in annoyance. “okay, forget it then.” she crosses her arms, her tone sharper than it once was. she adds, “sorry for missing my best friend, i guess.”

azzi follows paige’s movement and sits up as well, scooting a tad closer. although her tiny smirk still remains, she can tell paige is actually a little frustrated. “i was only messing around, p,” she says, “i missed you too. i miss you after not talking for a hour. i always miss you.” she reaches out, squeezing paige’s hand in hers.

azzi rests her other hand against paige’s neck and jaw area, and not giving paige a chance to reply, the younger girl leans in, pressing a featherlike kiss to the side of her head. the another— delicate, slow— on her cheekbone.

azzi leaves a trail of wet kisses down paige’s face, continuing down her neck like she’s done so many times before. she adjusts her hand— that’s still in paige’s— to rest on the blonde’s stomach, feeling her abs under her shirt.

a sigh of pleasure escapes paige, her eyelids fluttering shut. azzi’s fingertips tease the bottom of paige’s shirt, traveling slightly in, grazing her bare stomach.

“azzi,” paige whispers.

azzi hums against her skin, never disconnecting her mouth from paige’s flesh.

without another word, the older girl shifts completely, moving her body to face azzi once again. azzi— not expecting the quick movement— jerks back, but paige is fast to react, grabbing her nape and pulling her in. their lips meet and paige knows. knows this is exactly where she’s supposed to be, forever. with azzi, touching azzi, kissing azzi.

azzi can’t help but kiss her back, desperate and sloppy. they’ve kissed before, but this time around feels different. maybe it’s the intensity, the buildup— or perhaps it’s paige’s murmured words, barely audible for her to hear.

“fuck, az,” paige mumbles between kisses, “you feel so good.”

paige focuses on the sensitive spot on azzi’s jaw, sucking as her hands find themselves underneath her shirt, on her bare hips. azzi groans in pleasure, her head tilting back, granting paige better access.

the minute paige removes her lips from azzi’s jaw, the brunette is quick to remove her own shirt, throwing it off to the side. she’s left in only a sports bra— paige’s eyes widen, her cheeks redden.

paige doesn’t wait any time attacking azzi with another messy kiss, this time incorporating her tongue, swiping it over her bottom lip. her hands explore azzi’s body, fingers tickling her skin.

“you’re so goddamn beautiful,” paige murmurs, “my god.”

azzi falls back on the bed, dragging paige with her. “you’re beautiful,” she whispers against her lips.

the heat between them intensifies. their pace picks up as they begin removing each article of clothing, starting with paige’s shirt, exposing her toned muscles. next comes azzi’s sports bra, leaving her in nothing but her basketball shorts.

paige’s mouth wanders, sucking and kissing her way down azzi’s laid out body— all for her. she doesn’t stop until azzi’s nipple is fully against her lips, dark and peaked.

“jesus, baby,” paige mutters. her hand sneaks down to azzi’s waistband, ready and waiting patiently (impatiently) to yank it down.

the use of the nickname makes azzi shutter undoubtedly. this is everything, she thinks. paige is everything.

encouraged by the little sounds azzi makes, paige gently tugs at her shorts, as if to ask for permission. when she receives a frantic nod in response, she slowly pulls them off her, taking her panties too before tossing both into an unknown corner of her room.

her eyes revert back to azzi’s body, laid out completely bare on her bed. for her. jesus, paige could almost cry from happiness— she’s wanted this for so long, it’s hard to remember a time where she didn’t.

she leans forward yet again, pressing a closed mouth kiss to azzi’s now swollen lips. “i love you,” paige whispers so faintly azzi wonders if she imagined it, “i swear to god, i love you. so much.”

azzi stills. was it just sex talk, or did she actually love her? she genuinely couldn’t tell— but she wasn’t about to question it now.

(paige means it, though. from the depths of her soul— with everything in her, she means it. if this isn’t love, than what is?)

azzi allows paige to continue her trail of wet kisses down the length of her frame, licking and leaving marks that’ll appear tomorrow. when she reaches her glistening clit, paige glances up. “ima make you feel good, okay?”

azzi meets her gaze. “okay.”

and she does.

they don’t talk about it much after it happens. they choose to go back to pretending as if nothing had happened— like they didn’t completely come apart for one another, kiss every inch of each other’s bodies.

the two continue their normal routine, eating breakfast with the team, having the usual conversations. they share minimal words, hardly ever looking one another in the eye.

caroline notices, of course. she pulls azzi aside during practice while the others work on their personal drills. “az, what’s up with you and paige?”

azzi tenses at her name. “huh? nothing— what makes you think that?”

caroline raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “you two have been avoiding each other all day— not even looking when the other passes by. did something… happen?”

azzi holds her breath, knowing she can never lie to caroline. she adverts her gaze to the opposite side of the gym, where paige is practicing with kk and ice. her heartbeat intensifies, recalling the memories from the following night. her delicate tough, her teasing tongue, her soft lips. her everything.

��no need to say anything, i think i already know,” carol smirks, eyeing both paige and azzi.

azzi instantly feels heat rush up her neck, reaching her cheeks. she decides to play it as cool as she can, “nothing happened between me and her,” she replies, hoping and praying her voice remains stable, “in fact, i have a date tonight.”

caroline’s jaw drops the littlest amount, obviously not expecting her to say that. “a date? with who?”

“tyler— he’s in one of my classes. he’s cute. sweet,” she smiles.

“hm,” caroline hums. she doesn’t know what to make of this situation.

“what?” azzi questions her friend.

carol shakes her head, “nothing. i just didn’t know you dated.”

azzi shrugs, “not really— but it’s one date, it won’t hurt. i’m willing to give him a chance.”

“right,” caroline mumbles. “didn’t really expect it to be with him, though,” she adds, her voice quieter than before.

“then with who?” she asks louder, her tone sharp.

caroline curls her lip, looking away as if the answer it obvious. “oh, maybe just with a certain blonde standing a few feet away from us,” she explains, “the one you label as your ‘best friend,’” she quotes with her fingers.

azzi’s jaw practically drops at the insinuation, her heart suddenly racing. she definitely didn’t expect carol to go there— especially with such a pointed, targeted tone. her face flushes with a mix of shock, disbelief, and something she can’t quite place, but it’s enough to make her stiffen.

eventually she sighs, not even going to argue with her friend. “whatever, carol,” she says, giving up. “you might think you have everything figured out, but i can assure you, you don’t.”

caroline holds up her hands in surrender, shrugging her shoulders in the process.

what does she know, azzi thinks. she doesn’t know anything about them— none of them do.

azzi exhales, rubbing her hand on her forehead. she decides to switch the topic away from paige, “anyway, can you please help me pick an outfit for tonight? you know how indecisive i am.”

she laughs, her expression softening a bit. “‘course az, that’s what i’m here for.”

azzi smiles, thankful she dropped the previous subject. her and carol begin discussing potential outfit ideas as they continue practicing. however, her mind can’t help but wonder back to the blonde across the room— the one who’s gaze keeps flicking to her every now and then. how does paige feel about the date? does she care? azzi cuts off those thoughts, trying to focus on wrapping up practice and then when the time comes, tonight.

while applying light makeup to her face, azzi hears a gentle knock on her dorm door. she figures it her roommate, caroline, coming back from grabbing dinner, but when she turns the knob, paige is standing there, dressed in her pajamas.

paige stills at the sight of azzi. she’s in a tighter fitting, black shirt paired with light washed jeans. she has on her go-to heart necklace, along with silver hoops in her ears. the outfit highlights the curves of azzi’s body— paige knows she’s staring, yet she can’t seem to tear her eyes away.

“what’s up, p?” azzi offers a kind, small smile in her direction, moving aside to let paige in her room.

paige strolls in acting like she owns the place. she allows herself to look azzi up and down once more, silently admiring her utter beauty.

“hey,” paige says finally, eyes finding azzi’s as she sits on the edge of her bed.

a moment of awkward silence passes until the brunette speaks up, “did you… need something?”

“nah, just bored,” paige shrugs, “i forget you had a— y’know, date.”

azzi’s eyebrows quirk upwards, not entirely surprised at paige’s forgetfulness. “yeah, i’m leaving in a few minutes, actually.”

“oh,” paige mumbles. she shallows. “okay, well, i should get going then.”

she stands, making an effort to move for the door, but azzi stops her with a hand gripping her arm. she turns, facing the younger girl.

“wait,” azzi breaths. her eyes scan paige’s face, “you sure you’re good?”

paige’s lips curve into a soft smile, making her best effort to mask her disappointment. “yeah, az, i’m good.”

azzi nods, “okay, just making sure.”

before thinking it through, paige steps closer and reaches out, playing with a few curls on her head. azzi freezes and suddenly becomes acutely aware of her grip on paige’s arm, still lingering on her warm skin.

“have fun on your date,” paige smirks, watching her closely— a little too closely. “you look stunning, az.” (if he doesn’t take you home, i will, she wants to add, but doesn’t for obvious reasons.)

azzi’s heart flutters in her chest at her words. paige always knew how to make azzi absolutely crumble. “thank you,” she whispers, her gaze unintentionally flicking to her lips.

with one good last look at azzi, paige turns and exits her dorm without another word passed between them. she said all she should, and that was enough.

tyler was, in fact, pretty sweet— and definitely not unpleasant to look at. azzi rests her face in her hand, eyes solely focused on the man in front of her.

he laughs at something she said, his smile warm and genuine, and for a moment, azzi wonders if she’s actually enjoying herself. maybe this would be good for her, being with someone like him. she wasn’t necessarily disgusted at the idea.

his laughter calms and eventually, he flips the subject, asking her questions about herself. “so, you play for the women’s basketball team, right?”

“yep,” azzi nods, her smile lingering.

“how’s the season going? i haven’t been able to catch a game yet.”

he actually seemed interested. “so far so good. i personally think i could work on some things, but overall, pretty good.”

“that’s good to hear,” he nods as he takes a sip of his drink of choice— a classic coca cola.

“what about you? what types of things are you interested in?” azzi questions, tilting her head in her hands.

“well, i’m really into photography…” he goes on, but azzi’s mind drifts once she feels a faint buzz against her leg. a text message.

she sneakily glances down, noticing it’s from, of course, paige. who else? she takes a better look, finally reading the message itself.

p: u forget ur bra in my room

azzi’s breath hitches in her throat. tyler continues talking, oblivious to azzi’s shift in focus. but azzi can hardly concentrate on his words now. she stares at her phone, the text from paige blinking back at her— almost taunting, in a way.

she immediately feels a flush creeping up her neck she tries, and fails, to compose herself. fuck. now, of all times, paige decides to bring it up?

making the quick decision to ignore paige’s text, azzi clears her throat. “sorry… my mom texted,” she says, offering a tight-lipped smile.

“no worries. everything alright?” he grins back, not aware her unease.

“everything’s perfect,” she replies, leaning in to sip her water.

the two revert their conversation into talking about their hobbies, interests, personal goals for the future. azzi shares how she plans to reach the wnba level, while tyler explains his hopes of becoming a sports journalist, where he can continue his passion for photography there.

mid laugh, azzi feels another buzz coming from her phone. she flips it to see another message from the persistent blonde.

p: u just gonna leave me on read? answer ur damn phone azzi

azzi, growing more and more aggravated, excuses herself from the table and heads in the direction of the bathroom. once she’s in a free stall, her fingers work away at the tiny keyboard.

a: r u serious right now? wtf

p: wdym

a: u know damn well what i mean. why r u texting me that while i’m out with someone else?

azzi lets out a deep breath, trying to keep her anger in check. of course paige would do this to her— it’s paige.

paige takes a little longer to reply than before. but when the message comes, it’s short and sweet, yet still has the ability to make azzi’s heart stop.

p: i miss u

goddammit. paige always does this, azzi really shouldn’t be surprised. she cannot help but feel bad for accepting this date. she shuts that thought down instantly— she deserves a chance at a relationship. she deserves this.

instead of replying with her typical “i miss you too,” azzi shuts off her phone, leaving her on read.

she walks out of the stall, applies a fresh coat of lip gloss in the bathroom mirror and heads back to their booth, more in control than she was when she left. she refuses to acknowledge paige’s snarky text tonight. tonight is about her getting to know tyler, getting a feel for him— giving him the chance he deserves.

by the end of the date, she does just that. she learns tyler is genuine, thoughtful, surprisingly funny as well as an overall good person. they exchange phone numbers and already start talking about a second date in the near future.

azzi even works up the courage to kiss him gently on the cheek when saying their goodbyes— she thanks him for the good night together before flashing him a smile, dimples and everything, and walking away feeling good about the outcome of this date. she really hadn’t expected it to go this well, but is grateful it did. although, paige still lingers in the back of her mind which she tries her best to ignore. this day was about her and tyler. not paige.

the following day, the uconn women’s basketball team had another game in the gampel pavilion. the fans were loud, the atmosphere was intoxicating, the players in blue were absolutely dominating the opposing team— like usual, when it came to the big east.

paige and azzi continued to remain on the outs, barely making any conversation, if any at all. their usual chemistry seemed distant, and the tension was evident whenever they shared the same space. the team noticed but, for the most part, chose to keep their distance, focusing on the game instead.

the game ended as fast as it started, with uconn winning by 46 points. azzi collected 20 of her own, while paige had a solid 24. their automatic passes to one another was off tonight— that is, whenever they’d actually pass the ball to the other. it wasn’t necessarily intentional, paige thought. it seemed to happen naturally.

after the team had showered and changed into comfortable clothes, they found themselves at ted’s, drinks already in hands.

azzi leans against caroline, planted in the corner of the room. she swirls her dirty shirley temple— paige got her hooked— with her straw, looking at the liquid move in the glass. she glances up in attempts to locate the blonde, to which she finds another familiar face: tyler. they lock eyes and smile at the other. when he makes an effort to walk over to where azzi sits, caroline notices and stands.

“you have fun,” carol says, walking away before she finds herself in an awkward position.

azzi laughs. she takes another quick swig of the drink, feeling it go down her throat. she bites her lip, anticipating tyler’s approach.

“hey azzi,” tyler greets her, a kind smile on his face. “long time no see.”

she giggles, “it feels like forever,” she drags out the word, in a sarcastic tone. “how are you?”

“pretty good, yeah,” he nods. “how bout yourself? how’d the game go?”

“i’m good, thanks for asking,” she replies, her voice soft. “wait, you knew we had a game today? i thought you didn’t keep up with basketball.”

tyler exhales a weak breath, feeling almost embarrassed. “i typically don’t… but you’re on the team, so i figured i should probably start.”

azzi raises an eyebrow, a grin playing at the corners of her lips. “that’s sweet of you,” she points out, her voice quieter.

their conversation continues, discussing the game in depth and the little mistakes azzi wished she could’ve perfected. she finds herself laughing more than she expects; tyler’s easygoing nature makes it difficult not to, and suddenly she feels a little more at ease than she had earlier in the night.

“maybe i should go to a game soon,” tyler brings up.

azzi’s face reddens the tiniest amount, “yeah, maybe you should—“

mid sentence, azzi feels a body collide with hers, causing her to stumble to the side a little— basically right into tyler. he holds out his hands, stabling azzi after nearly falling.

“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry,” a voice says, genuine and sincere. azzi knows that voice.

her gaze immediately find paige’s blue ones, who’s already looking her dead in the eye. paige’s line of sight flickers between azzi, to tyler, to his hand on her arm.

“oh, hi paige,” azzi speaks, her voice crackling a bit. she removes her grip from tyler’s touch, not wanting paige to see.

“az,” paige whispers, flustered and wide-eyed.

staring at the blonde in front of her, she finally pulls herself out of her trance and shallows. she looks at tyler, then back to paige. “this is tyler,” she introduces him.

“hi, nice to meet you,” tyler nods in her direction.

“hey.”

azzi clears her throat, “tyler, this is paige,” she begins before adding, “she’s my best friend.”

paige locks gazes with azzi as soon as her words tumble out of her mouth. “is that what we are?”

the words hang in the air, and everything seems to slow for a beat. azzi’s pulse quickens, her cheeks bright red at this point. azzi feels a knot in her stomach as she stares blankly at the sophomore.

azzi opens her mouth, yet nothing comes out. she shakes her head, in absolute disbelief at paige’s comment.

paige’s lips curl into a line. she hums at azzi’s response— her silence speaking for itself. she eyes tyler once more before shifting her gaze back to azzi, raising her eyebrows.

without another word being passed between them, paige turns on her heels and walk away, leaving azzi there, motionless. she takes off straight for the bathroom, setting her drink down on an open table in the process.

azzi watches as paige’s retreating figure vanishes around the corner, the sound of her footsteps fading into the background. she stands there, still frozen, the tension thick in the air. tyler, who’s been silent throughout their interaction, finally speaks.

“that was… intense,” he says, his voice a bit hesitant. “is there something going on between you guys?”

azzi shallows hard, her mind racing. “um,” she murmers, unable to look him in the eye. “maybe— i’m not really sure, to be honest.”

tyler gives her a sympathetic look, “maybe you should go after her. talk it out.”

azzi nods, finally snapping out of her daze. “yeah, probably. thanks, tyler, i’ll see ya.”

without waiting for another word, she walks briskly towards the bathroom, following the blonde’s trail. she pushes out the heavy door and steps inside, adjusting her eyes to the bright light. not immediately spotting paige, she raises her voice.

“paige?”

azzi’s voice echoes off the bathroom walls, but there’s no quick response. she steps further in, her heart pounding harder, nerves tightening in her chest. luckily the bathroom is empty, besides the closed stall at the very end. azzi brings her knuckles to the door, knocking gently.

“paige, please open the door.”

and she does— paige is standing there, shoulders shaking, eyes full of fresh tears. fuck.

“what?” paige asks, barely loud enough to be heard. her voice cracks and azzi swears her heart does too.

azzi doesn’t hesitate to lunge forward, pulling paige into her warm embrace. she wraps her arms around her waist, their bodies fully flush against the others.

paige stiffens but almost automatically relaxes against her body. she rests her head on azzi’s shoulder, with both hands tightly wrapped around her frame.

a few moments pass with nothing but breathes being exchanged. but the next words out of paige’s mouth makes azzi heart swell. “i can’t stand the sight of you with someone else, azzi,” she whispers in azzi’s ear. “i try to be as supportive as possible, for your sake— but i can’t anymore.”

“paige…” azzi pulls back, keeping her hands resting on the blonde’s hips.

paige wears a sad smile. she brushes loose curls out of azzi’s face, her fingers playing with the tips of them. she leans forward, placing a delicate, slow kiss on the side of her face. then another, in the same spot.

azzi’s breath catches in her throat as paige’s lips touch her skin. the contact is gentle, almost hesitant, but also warm and comforting in a way.

paige steps back, out of azzi’s grip. her eyes lower to the floor as she takes a shaky breath. she wipes her eyes quickly, trying to regain composure. “i’m heading back. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

she turns towards the door, her steps slow but purposeful. she hesitates for a second just before she exits, glancing back at azzi one more time. “have a nice night, az,” she says quietly, taking off.

she doesn’t.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #basketball #uconn huskies #fanfic #nika muhl #caroline ducharme

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sturnlia · 2 days ago

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gaming

my first fic! i hope you guys like it, im sorry if its bad :3 fluff and making out!

you’re sitting on chris’s couch behind his gaming chair, one leg tucked under the other, scrolling through your phone while he’s gaming. the sound of gunfire and explosions fills the room, but you’ve learned to tune it out by now.

“you gonna sit there like a loser all night or actually talk to me?” you tease, tossing a throw pillow at his head.

it hits the back of his chair, to which he turns around, giving you a look. “first of all, rude. second, you’ve been on your phone for the past thirty minutes. who’s the loser now?”

“still you.” you lean back, stretching your arms over your head with a dramatic sigh. “i was hoping for some entertainment, but apparently, you’re more into playing with random dudes online than hanging out with me.”

“oh, you want entertainment?” he finally pauses the game and turns to you, one brow raised. “what, you wanna arm wrestle? see who can shotgun a pepsi faster? oh wait—i forgot, you suck at both.”

you narrow your eyes. “bold words for someone who cried over a jump scare last week.”

chris glares, pointing at you. “fuck you, that was a well-timed scare. any normal person would’ve jumped.”

you grin, triumphant. “but did they scream like a little bitch?”

he launches the pillow back at you, and you barely dodge it. “you are so annoying.”

“you love it." you say, sticking out your tongue.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at you with that cocky half-smile that always makes your stomach flip. his eyes flick down to your lips for a second—so quick you almost miss it.

“you know what’s actually annoying?” he finally says, leaving the game and walking over and sitting next to you. “how you always act like you don’t want me, when we both know you do.”

your breath catches, but you force yourself to scoff. “oh my god, your ego is out of control.”

he hums, tilting his head. “am i wrong, though?”

you open your mouth to argue, but he’s already shifting closer, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind you. the air between you changes—like someone turned the dial up on the tension.

“c’mon, baby, just admit it,” he murmurs, voice lower now. “you wanna kiss me so bad.”

your heart is hammering against your ribs, but you roll your eyes. “in your dreams.”

his smirk widens. “oh, you have no idea.”

and then he moves. slow and testing. he tilts his head and brings his lips so close that you can feel his breath against your mouth.

you don’t pull away.

he takes that as a green light and finally, finally closes the distance, kissing you like he’s been dying to do it for ages.

your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer instinctively. his lips are soft, but the way he kisses you? it's desperate, like he’s been waiting too long for this moment. his hands find your waist, warm and firm as he tugs you onto his lap.

“fuck,” he mutters against your lips, voice a little rough. “knew you’d taste good.”

you’re already breathless, but you muster a retort. “jesus, chris, that’s so corny.”

he chuckles, biting your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp. “yeah? didn’t hear you complaining.”

you don’t have a comeback because he’s right. instead, you grind down just a little, testing the waters, and his reaction is instant—a sharp inhale, fingers gripping your hips tighter.

“oh, we’re doing that now?” his voice is deeper, rougher, like he’s barely keeping it together.

you shrug, but the teasing is weaker now, your own body betraying you. “guess so.”

he doesn’t waste time. one hand slides under your shirt, fingers dragging over your skin in a way that makes you shiver. the other is tangled in your hair, keeping you close as he kisses you like he wants to ruin you.

and the look in his eyes and the way he touches you, seems like he does.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x you #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff

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hqwkeyes · 2 days ago

Text

Falling for the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k+ Warnings: swearing, uhh fluff, slight angst?, matt is a flirt, i edited this while fighting 6g melatonin Summary: Matt Murdock is a known flirt, and a successful one, at that. You've seen him work his magic on women dozens of times. But one night, he attempts to use that Murdock charm on you. He might've fallen first, but you just might fall harder... maybe.

Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

Matt Murdock is many things: a great lawyer, a great friend, but most of all, he's a flirt. A merciless flirt, at that. A charmer and a tease. He has a way of making people, specifically women, feel special. It comes naturally to him, much to Foggy's dismay in his pre-Marci days.

You've been working at Nelson, Murdock, and Page for a while now, and you just sort of clicked with the group early on. There have been several occasions when you were all out at Josie's and Matt would work his magic on a woman. You would all watch as he'd flirt with them, charm them, and often times leave with them. It was a running joke in the group, at this point, that Matt was sort of a...philanderer, if you will. He didn't lead these women on, though. Matt was still pretty much a gentleman.

Although he keeps to himself more than the others, you've always been pretty close friends with Matt. He looks out for you the same way he does for Karen and Foggy, and you trust him—like really trust him. Was there a vibe you got from him sometimes? Sure, but you were also well aware that Matt could probably charm a brick wall if he wanted to, and you generally try not to fall for antics like that.

It's been a long week, and this case you were all working had dragged on for weeks in court. You all had done your best work for your client, but you weren't sure how the verdict would pan out. In the end, you guys won the case, and now it was time to celebrate.

Josie's is fairly busy. Foggy brought Marci tonight, and you all get yourselves a drink before claiming the pool table, which is thankfully free. The five of you toast to the big win in court before cutting loose a bit and playing a few games.

You're sitting at a table nearby with Karen, chatting a bit while Foggy plays against Marci—which is incredibly entertaining. Matt is by Foggy's side for emotional support, which he definitely needs. When both your drinks are empty, Karen gets up to get the two of you another round. After a few minutes, you peek over at the bar, wondering what's taking your friend so long. You're only a little surprised to find her talking it up with a guy. She's the friendly sort, but this seems like a bit more than just friendly. He's handsome and very much her type. Another minute later, Karen pops back over with your drink, and asks if you would mind if she stepped away to talk to Evan. You give her a suggestive grin and shoo her away before calling out to your friends that you're playing the winner in the next game.

In a shocking twist, Foggy beat Marci in the last game. Unfortunately for you, that just meant that she was on his side, cheering him on and distracting him from the game. Matt is sitting at the table you and Karen had been occupying, and you call him over.

"Come on, Matt, I need someone to root for me too," you tell him, and he laughs as he joins you by the pool table.

The two of you chat as you play, but after the next few shots, you lose Foggy to Marci's attention. He's practically drooling over her, and you would think it's adorable if it wasn't his turn.

"Earth to Foggy," you call out, but it's no use. You'll have to wait for him to turn his attention back to the game.

"Can you believe this?" You ask Matt, shaking your head in disbelief, and he laughs at your mild distress.

You lean against the table, grabbing your drink you'd left on the edge of it.

"You know, you really pulled through for us on this case," Matt says suddenly as he leans against the table beside you.

"Thanks, Matt. It was nothing though."

"No, really, I don't think we could've pulled it off if not for those documents you found."

"I'm just happy to help," you tell him.

"And we're very happy to have you," he says with a smile.

Matt holds out his glass, and you clink yours against it before taking a sip. You glance over to where Karen is to check on her, and she seems to be having a great time. Her eyes meet yours and she gives you a big smile.

"This is nice," Matt says, drawing your attention back to him.

"Hm?"

"We haven't spent much time together like this lately."

"Well, we've been so busy with the case, it's been hard to find time outside of work. And we all know you're always busy," you say, nudging him with your elbow.

"That's true," he says with a chuckle. "So what have you been up to outside of work?"

"Oh." You weren't expecting that.

"Um, well I've been watching this show lately." You explain the plot of the show before telling him about this new hobby you have. He listens attentively with a small smile. He shows genuine interest in what you're saying, asking questions here and there. After a few minutes, you realize that you've been babbling on.

"Jeez, I'm sorry. I've been rambling."

"Don't apologize," he says, leaning a bit closer. "I like listening to your voice." You recognize his tone. It's that seemingly innocent one he has when he's trying to charm someone. Something bubbles in your chest, and for a moment, you understand why so many women fall for his flirtations.

"I bet you tell all the girls that," you say with a laugh before taking another sip your drink.

"Hey, I mean it," he says, feigning hurt before finishing off his drink.

"Sure you do," you say, voice laced with amusement.

"I do, really. I could listen to you talk all day."

"You do listen to me talk all day," you joke, earning a chuckle from him, though his pride is a bit wounded.

Trying to keep his composure, he casually snatches your drink from your hand and takes a sip.

"Do you want me to get you another drink?" You ask with a laugh.

"I thought maybe we could share." His reply is quick, smooth, and it comes with that signature smirk again.

You roll your eyes. You know Matt and how he is. This case was tough and he's probably looking to blow off some steam, which is fine, but you're not sure why he's looking to you. Being friends with your bosses/coworkers can be difficult enough. Sleeping with Matt would likely complicate both of those relationships. You wouldn't want to risk it all over a one night stand, although, once again, you can see how he manages to captivate all these women.

You play it casual. "Sure, we can share if you want."

At that, you can see the twinge of frustration in Matt's expression. His brows draw up in what looks something like confusion.

"I heard Karen say she was talking to a guy at the bar?" He asks after a moment.

"Oh yeah, she said his name is Evan."

"Nice, nice."

A moment passes. You take your drink back for another sip as your eyes dance over the small crowd to check on Karen again, who still looks like she's having a great time.

"So, are you seeing anyone new?" And you almost spit that sip straight onto the floor. Josie would probably make you clean it yourself, or it would stay there until the sticky puddle dried.

You clear your throat from nearly choking. "No, I'm not." Matt's grin returns. He fumbles with his fingers.

"Oh, no?"

"Nope. You?"

"No, not lately." he says, taking your drink back again and draining half of what's left. He lets out a sigh after. "There's someone I've been interested in for a while, and I just can't quite get over my feelings," he says.

You freeze, your heart kicking up a fuss. Matt smiles at the floor. You try to maintain your composure.

"Oh, really?" you say, trying not to sound too interested. "Who's the lucky lady? Do we all know her?"

"Yeah, you do actually." He finishes off your drink. "Can I get you another?" He asks, holding up your glass.

"Umm." You glance at your watch. It's a Friday, but you don't want to go home so late that you have to call a car.

"Just one more? To celebrate our win." He plays it cool, but there's a slight edge to his voice, almost pleading.

"By one more, do you mean one of my own or one to share?" He laughs at that.

"What's wrong with sharing," he jests with a grin, then heads to the bar before you can reply.

He returns a couple minutes later with a drink for each of you, but his smile deflates when he finds that Foggy's attention has returned to the game you were playing.

"Thanks, Matt," you say passively as you take your drink and set it on the edge of the table before lining up your next shot.

You end up pocketing two balls in one go, letting out an excited shout.

"What's happening?" Matt asks.

"She just pocketed two balls," Foggy says, exasperated.

"My last two. And now I can go for the winning shot," you tell him. He smiles.

"Nice," Matt says, trying not to seem dejected.

"The odds of you making that shot are slim to none," Foggy says. He's right. Based on the placement of his remaining balls, it's unlikely that you'll make the winning shot in this turn, but you get competitive when people doubt you.

"Wanna bet?" you say.

"On you not making the shot? Hell yeah."

"How much if I do?"

"Twenty bucks."

"You don't sound too confident," you say, goading him.

"Fine, fifty." Marci lightly smacks his arm. Honestly, you shouldn't have pushed it with how slim your chances are, but you're feeling a little lucky tonight.

"Deal."

You call your pocket before taking a moment to line up your shot. You inhale deeply, hold it a second, exhale. Shoot. The 8 ball knocks against one of Foggy's, then against the edge of the table before slowly rolling toward the pocket you called. And it's in.

"Holy shit!" Foggy yells. You're cheering for yourself and Marci joins in the excitement.

Foggy comes around to your side of the table to give you your fifty dollars. "You definitely earned it," he says with a laugh. "Wanna go again?"

"I'm good," you tell him. "That was more than enough excitement for me."

You walk over to Matt, who is standing near the table you had shared with Karen earlier.

"I take it you won?"

"I did," you say, your voice oozing with pride.

He chuckles. "Of course you did."

He holds out his glass to toast to your win, and you clink yours against his, a bit spilling on the floor.

"So, what are you gonna do with the money you won?" he asks, setting his drink down on the table.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Maybe I'll treat myself to dinner tomorrow night."

You go to step closer to the table to set your drink down, but slip on the puddle you'd left, falling forward. Matt catches you against his chest, his arms falling around your waist to steady you.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you say, removing your hands from his chest once you regain your footing, but Matt's arms don't move.

"You're finally falling for me, huh," he says with that smirk. Your heart skips a beat. Or maybe several. Actually, it feels like it might burst right out of your chest. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks growing hotter by the second.

"I– um, I–" you stammer, unsure of what to say.

"How about instead of treating yourself to dinner tomorrow night, you let me treat you."

"But what about–" you pause as the realization hits you. You were the woman he had been talking about. "Oh." You feel the tips of your ears reddening.

Matt lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction.

Now that you think about it, it's been more than a few weeks since Matt has flirted with anyone here at Josie's. Women have approached him, as usual, but he hadn't left with any of them or even accepted any of their offers to buy him a drink. He was still charming, but that's just natural with him. At the time, you attributed it to him being busy, as you all were with work. Matt had a way of really locking in on work when there was a heavy caseload, so it didn't seem unusual then. You would all just stop in at Josie's for a quick drink before heading home.

You're pulled from your thoughts by Matt tugging you a little closer to him.

"So how about it?" he asks quietly once he has your attention again. "We can go to that little Italian place you like near the office?"

Have you, at some point, considered what it might be like to be with Matt? Admittedly, yes. He's a sweetheart of a guy, always kind and courteous. He's a fierce lawyer—you're constantly impressed by his ability to captivate a jury and spin a narrative. And he and Foggy are always looking out for the little guy, taking on clients that don't have much—or anything at all, sometimes—but need help, and so they do just that. But at the end of the day, you're friends, and he's also your boss.

Your heart is in your throat.

"Um, as friends?" you ask.

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Well, I was hoping it could be a date if you're comfortable with that."

You bite your lip. "I– I just don't know if I want to risk what we already have," you admit.

"Understandable," he says, and one of his hands comes up to rest on your cheek, the other remaining firmly on your waist. "But what if we could have so much more?"

Well, the joke's on you for trying to argue with a lawyer.

"You can think of it as a trial run if you want," he offers, his hand coming down to your jaw. "If it doesn't feel right to you, we can just go back to how things were."

It might not be that simple, you think, but maybe it's worth the risk, like he said. And besides, Matt is someone you love having in your life. If things didn't work out romantically after a date or two, you're sure you could still be friends.

"A trial run, then," you say with a small nod. Matt's smirk blossoms into a smile.

"Perfect," he whispers, his hand finding it's way back up to your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. Your eyes flutter closed.

And then they're shooting back open as Foggy's voice cuts across the room.

"Look at all this love in the room tonight!" The volume of his voice makes you wince, and Marci bats at his arm, scolding him for ruining the moment. Both you and Matt burst into laughter at the pair.

You finish off your drink before getting ready to head out with the others. Karen bids Evan a good night as she readies herself to leave with the rest of you, but not before she gets his number. You link your arm through hers as you move toward the exit, asking about her night. She gives little away in the short walk to the door, but promises to catch you up at work on Monday.

"You had an eventful night too, didn't you?" she says with a grin.

"Oh yeah, I won fifty bucks off of Foggy."

"Wait, what? I was talking about with Matt. I saw the two of you over by the table," she says, nudging you playfully.

"Oh, you saw that?" You wear a bashful smile.

"Yes, and I expect to hear about that on Monday too," she says with a laugh, and you agree.

The cool night air greets you as you exit the bar, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Foggy and Marci get a cab first, calling out their "goodnights" as they get in the car. Karen calls another cab over, and she offers it to you, but you insist she takes it as she lives further than you.

And now you're left here with Matt.

"I don't see anymore taxis," you tell him. "I can call one for you if you'd like?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine to walk," he says, tapping his cane against the pavement. Neither of you live far from Josie's. It's about a ten minute walk from you.

"I was going to walk too," you say.

"Then, can I walk you home?" he asks.

"How about I walk you home? You're not far out of the way."

He shakes his head. "I don't want you walking alone if you can avoid it. It's late."

"Fine," you say. Then, "thank you."

He smiles at the ground before taking hold of the crook of your arm. "Of course."

The two of you walk in silence for a moment before he speaks.

"You know, I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night," he says.

A small smile makes its way onto your face. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he says. "Thank you for giving me a chance. I know you might think I'm some kind of... I don't know, playboy or something, but I'm– I'm serious about this—about you." Your cheeks burn hot at that.

"I don't think that about you," you say quietly.

"You don't?"

"No. Although, I do think you have an uncanny ability to charm pretty much any woman." He smiles again. "You're a flirt and a tease, but I wouldn't go as far as to call you a playboy." His smile falters a bit at that.

"I believe you, though," you tell him. "Admittedly, I'm a little hesitant to, but you've never given me a reason not to trust you."

"Then, I'll just have to keep proving that you can trust me."

You smile. "I'm looking forward to that."

The two of you walk together in silence for a bit.

"The moon is so bright tonight," you say as you look up at the sky.

"Is it?"

"Yeah, it is. I can see it shining through the clouds, but there are too many to see any stars."

Matt sighs. "I'd give anything to see that one more time." Your heart constricts at that.

"I– I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says. "I like that you describe things like that to me. You do it more often than you might think. It feels like you want to share it with me, and I enjoy hearing how things look through your eyes. I remember what it was like, you know, seeing the night sky, all the stars up there—or at least what we could see from the city. When you tell me about it, it helps me keep those memories alive." You tear up just a little bit, smiling sadly.

"I'm glad I could do that for you."

A few moments pass, and you come up to your apartment building.

"This is me," you say with a sniffle, coming to a stop.

Matt turns to face you, bringing his hand up to cup your face once again.

"I take it back," he says softly.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"I take it back," he says again, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "As much as I wish I could see the sky again, I'd do anything to see you just once."

"Oh, Matt," you breathe, and a tear slips free. He brushes it away as he closes the gap between you, pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips. And then he's pulling away, but your hand comes up to gently tug him back by his tie. His hands find their place on your hips as you pull him into another kiss, this one a bit deeper. One of his hands comes up to rest at the nape of your neck, and his glasses bump against your nose as he angles his head. The two of you break apart in a laugh, and his hand comes down to take hold of yours.

"I wasn't planning on kissing you tonight, just so you know."

"Oh, no?"

He shakes his head, a small grin on his face. "Nope."

"Well, I guess you can just try not to kiss me tomorrow night," you say with a small smirk.

"Oh, I don't think so," he says, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he leans in to press one last kiss to your lips.

"Until tomorrow," he says once he pulls away.

"Goodnight, Matt," you say as you take a step towards the stairs to your building.

"Goodnight" he says, finally releasing your hand.

He waits until he hears you get safely inside your apartment to start his walk to his own, a smile on his face the entire way home.

You're practically giddy as you ready yourself for bed. There's a good chance you won't be getting much sleep tonight, not with the anticipation of tomorrow night lingering.

Matt feels it too. Despite the late hour, he's wide awake, his heart thumping wildly as he recounts the past hour or so. As he lies in bed, he can't help but miss the way you felt in his arms, like the piece he didn't realize he was missing. Some would say it's too soon to tell, but to him, you already felt like home.

Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

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wakatoshiiss · 2 days ago

Text

how the haikyu boys would react if you showed up to a game - after saying you wouldnt! °○~

contains : hinata, kageyama, daichi, tsukkishima, kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwazumi, ushijima, tendou

warnings/tags : not all boys included ! suggestive themes in a few of them, but nothing descriptive!

note : just some of my fav cuties, if you want more pls throw it in the requests! i wrote half of this on mobile and half on my laptop, pls excuse any mistakes. i also had either none or alot of motivation for these, so eat up what you can out of this!

masterlist // requests are open

SHOYO HINATA :

he honestly forgot about the banter between you two, begging for you to come but then being shot down because of your studies. so when he stepped onto the court and began playing, he didn't pay any attention to it.

but in private, you felt too bad, so you attended. you cheered him on from the group of karasuno fans, a little louder than the rest. so when he turned his head and saw you, his face lit up, a big smile on his face before giving a small wave and turning back around.

by the end of the match, he met you outside, jumping at his full potential with hands on your shoulders, " you came!? but what about your homework? wait - did you see me during the second set!? " he blabbering on, before you just ruffled his hair and giggled.

" you should come to all my matches, it makes me play better " he mumbled as he pulled you into a tight hug while tanaka and noya gushed over young love.

" oi! hinata, let's go! " kageyama called, as they were getting ready for a team photo infront of the complex.

he dragged you along, jumping onto your shoulders just to be taller than kageyama in a photo.

---

TOBIO KAGEYAMA :

there was no point in asking you to come tonight, it was normal. but he did want you to see some new stuff he spent so much time working on. but of course, you turned him down due to working late at the onigiri shop downtown.

so as he put his uniform on, sliding his knee pads up and tying his shoes, he went about the match like normal. he actually never noticed tou watching in the stands, eyes flowing back and forth through his stealthy sets. that freak quick attack that he set up was always impressive. it made you wonder why you never saw matches before.

you caught him on his way out, bag slung over his shoulders and jacket zipped up. the bus was parked and waiting already, so you barely got to his hand. your fingers wrapped around his, and he almost smacked you before realizing it was you.

" yn? " he asked, tilting his head in confusion, " but - I thought you were working late tonight? " he muttered, fingers squeezing a little tighter when you smiled.

" well, thanks for coming. " was all he could muster up between the harsh heat in his cheeks. he burried his chin into the collar of his jacket, watching you reach up and plant a kiss onto his cheek before running back into the building.

yeah everyone sitting on the bus just saw kageyama fold for his girlfriend again.

---

DAICHI SAWAMURA :

he completely understood how important your studies were, and he seriously didn't mind you not coming to games. so when he kissed your head and jumped in the car, he expected to see you later after the match.

but he had no clue you spent the rest of the time getting all ready, dressing up and jumping into your car to race, and making the first set. you flooded the stands as it began, leaning against the barrier next to their manager, Yaichi.

daichi was too busy with slamming recieves back and forth. when he finally got steady with returning the great king, oikawa's, serves, the crowd cheered. so naturally, you did, too.

" nice recieve daich' ! " you called out, hands cupped by your mouth with a big smile.

his head whipped behind him to see you all bubbly and pratically shaking with excitement as you watched him play. all he could do was smile and wave before giving sugawara a nervous look.

by the end of the match, you were downstairs, watching the teams flood out. you patiently waited for your boyfriend, hands clasped in front of you as the rest of the teams said their hellos. when daichi laid his eyes on you, he belined, lifting you and spinning you.

" you said you weren't coming! don't do that! it made me nervous - " he laughed, reaching up and rubbing the back of his head.

" but - thanks for watching, means a lot to me, baby " was all he he said as he kissed your head and pulled you into a tight hug.

---

TSUKKISHIMA KEI :

he didn't care, he actually didn't want you coming. he didn't see the point, they'd probably lose. and of course being a grade freak he was not about to sit and do your homework with you till 2am, so yea get it done now.

but when you appeared with an extra water bottle right before he went on the court, he just furrowed his eyebrows. he looked around before smirking a bit.

" thanks " that's all he said before grabbing the bottle and taking a drink, " if you didn't finished your homework, you have no idea what I'd do " he groaned, piercing his lips together into a flat line.

" tsukki - it's fine! you know I love to watch you play! " you gushed, teetering on your heels and looking up at him with a plead, that he knew too well.

" I am not giving you a kiss right now " he mumbled, going to walk away

" but it's good luck! " you whined, chasing him almost to the court.

" will you shut up? everyone can hear you " he whispered, leaning down and pressing a peck to your lips before grumbling off to warm ups.

he made sure to always look for you in the crowd before the next play, your bright eyes and smile always widening when you two made eye contact. yeah, he secretly loved seeing you support him.

---

KUROO TETSURO :

" cmon, baby, it's just one match, can't you come? " he pleaded, waiting by the door.

you told him you wouldn't be able to make it to this match, you were too busy and had stuff to do at home. so you shook your head and sighed.

" sorry, testu, not tonight " and he frowned, but hugged you goodbye and as always, kissed both cheeks for good luck.

when you watched him leave, guilt ate away at your gut. so you checked the time, got as much stuff done, and then raced to the complex. his match had just started, and you were in his red jacket. so you blended in with the crowd of fans.

when they lined up at the end to thank the fans, you shot forward to the balcony and yelled out for him, " good job, tetsu! " giggling and waving as he looked up at you.

kenma also looked up, rolling his eyes when kuroo put his hands on his hips and cackled like a hyena, " told you she'd come kenma! " he patted the smaller boy on the back.

when you two met up, he crushed you, squeezing all the air from your body. " so you were busy, huh? " he teased, shoving you as he walked you out to your car.

he leaned against the top of your car with his arm, pressing down and capturing you in one more kiss. where he tried to make in to a full makeout session and fit into your drivers side.

" tetsuro! not now! " you yelped, shoving him out and scoffing.

" so later? I did win, yknow " he dragged out, and you rolled your eyes and shut the door.

---

KENMA KOZUME :

you barely made it to the third set, noticing kenma already being worn out and sweating buckets. you bit your lip anxiously, knowing kenma definitely didn't want you here. it made his anxiety skyrocket.

you stood hidden in the sea of fans, rushing out by the time it ended so he didn't see you. you watched him walk into the locker room, kuroo following close behind him with a proud smile.

you tried to creep your way silently, but kuroo seemed to notice you before kenma.

" ey! kenma look! " he redirected kenma from the door, to face you. you were wide eyed and smiling innocently.

" oh " he blinked, walking up to you, " when did you get here? " he asked, looking down at you with a blank expression as always.

" I just saw the last set - sorry I know you hate it when I come but - " you began, but kenma only stopped you by pulling you into a very awkward and sweaty hug.

you laughed and hugged back, of course. kuroo was already beckoning lev to come see this. once lev bursted out laughing, kenma let go, " sorry - they're just gonna be annoying " he muttered, shooting them a look.

" I know, kozu, you did great tonight " you nodded, trying to reassure him by rubbing soft circles into his palm.

" can you come to all my games from now on? "

---

KOUTARO BOKUTO :

every time was the same, bokuto trying to drag you out of your house to come to at least one match. you hated crowded areas, a sea of people watching a game of more sweaty people toss a ball around? yeah absolutely not.

but you knew it was important to him, so you always said 'next time', but there was never a next time. now bokuto was walking with you to the gym of fukarodani so the team can pack and leave.

" im sorry, kotarou, maybe next time? " you offered, holding his hands right before he walked in.

" you say that every timee! " he whined, but quickly gave up when he saw your frown.

" good luck out there, youre gonna do amazing " you kissed his hands before skipping away to the front of the building and driving home.. well, that was the plan

and somehow you found yourself driving 2 hours away to the complex, wearing an old jersey of bokuto's. you stepped out and scanned in with a wristband. the place was packed, fukarodani fans already setting up. so you sat and waited.

the match finally started, and akaashi was already fighting to keep bokuto out of emo mode. you teetered on the edge of your seat, clapping when they scored once more.

" lets go bokuto! " you couldnt help but give yourself away, and the look on his face was worth it all.

after that, bokuto scored point after point, taking both starting sets with ease. now akaashi was working on calming him down before they were kicked off the court. you were already on your way down to the court. when he saw you, he rushed off the court without a second though and into the crowd.

" you really came? hey! did you see that? all those were for you baby! " he shouted, taking you in his arms and jumping around, akaashi couldnt help but run after him and say his hello.

" akaashi! my beautiful girlfriend finally came! wait - why are you laughing? did you two set this up? HEY! " he began, hands on his hips and scowling.

---

KEIJI AKAASHI :

another night working late at the corner shop downtown, and man was it slow. you knew akaashi had a game tonight, and you were itching to go see it, but there was no way you could get off of work. so he made the effort to stop by right before leaving.

the door dinged open and before your started the whole 'welcome to l/ns' speech, your boyfriend already set your meal down on the counter. " hey you " he spoke, smiling slightly.

" keiji! but arent you leaving - what are you doing here? " you asked sadly, coming around the counter and hugging him.

he gently ran his fingers across your hair before pulling you back, " im sorry you cant see my game tonight, so i thought id bring you something " he offered, kissing your temple before letting you go completely.

the conversation continued, and he soon left. and your store was empty once again. you peaked into the back at your father, who was sleeping in a chair. you removed your apron quickly and bolted for the door, grabbing the bagged meal on your way out.

you hopped in your car and began directions to the complex, speeding almost half of the time there. you parked, squeezed your way through the people, and found your seat right as warmups began.

you watched the match, clapping and cheering as they took home the win. you said goodbye to some fellow classmates you found in the sea of fans, before rushing down the stairs. you got caught in cross traffic, and barely saw the team head into the locker room for warm down.

you waited patiently, noticing bokuto being the first to leave, " hey! bokuto! " you called out, rushing for him before he wandered from the door.

" ah! akaashis pretty ladyyy " he put his hands on his hips, " i thought you werent coming tonight? " he tilted his head, but the door opened after him.

" bokuto, did you say my - " akaashi was quickly cut off by the sight of you, swiftly scooping his arms under yours and pulling you into a crushing hug.

" i thought i heard you, but i figured i was hallucinating " he laughed, setting you down and holding your head to give you a large and dramatic kiss on the forehead.

" i wouldnt miss you for the world, keij " you giggled, noticing bokuto sulking.

" when is it my turn, akaashi!? " he cried out, trudging away

---

TORUU OIKAWA :

you seethed every time oikawa had a game, especially because his whole fangirl club would just shove you to the side to breathe his air. so when you told him you werent coming to anymore games, he quite literally got on his knees and begged for you to come to his final one, which was tonight.

" absolutely not, toruu! you barely even notice im there anyways! " you argued, crossing your arms and shaking your head.

" wha - no baby i promise! i will glue you to my side! ill shoo them away! " he pleaded, standing up and going to hold your arms.

" no, i have a bunch of homework to do anyways " you giggled, denying his words and looking up at him.

" finee " he sighed dramatically, gathering his things and waling for the front door with you following.

" good luck, okay? hey, i love you " you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before letting him walk out the door and to his match.

a few hours went by, and you got up and groaned, before ultimately driving to his game. you were in an extra jersey, dressing comfortably as you were going to be sitting the rest of the time anyways. you watched the match begin, noticing oikawa was first to serve. and his girls were going crazy.

it was like that for the rest of the time, screeching and drooling over the top balcony at your boyfriend. the game ended and you were now waiting outside near seijohs bus, anyone wouldve thought you were a creepy fangirl too.

when the team came out, and oikawa's eyes finally met yours, he took off running. he lifted you into the air and spun about a hundred times. " i knew you couldnt resisit me! did you see the whole thing? " he asked curiously, kissing all over your face.

a crowd of girls practically melted, tears quite literally rolling down their face at the sight of oikawa and another girl. but he paid no mind, only hugging and gushing over the fact you actually showed up.

" yes toru, i saw the entire thing " you reassured, nodding and giggling,

" oh just wait till i get home - " he muttered, before being slapped on the back by iwazumi.

" lets go shitty-kawa! " he yelled, getting onto the bus.

oikawa gave you one last kiss before waving off and sticking his tongue out. you shook your head and then noticed the stampede of girls that now chased after the bus.

---

HAJIME IWAZUMI :

oh this man was swooning over you, had a picture of you in every crack and crevice of his room or car. he even kept one in this pocket of his shorts during practice. so obviously when you said a family emergency came up, and you cant make it to his game, he was crushed.

" go home and make sure everythings okay, love " he said, kissing your head before seijoh loaded the busses for the tournament. despite him obviously loving when youre there, he understood this was important.

when you got home, a few hours of dealing with whatever had finally passed. you noticed, there was only an hour till seijohs warm ups began. so of course you ran for the car, ripping out of your driveway and speeding down the express ways to make it in time.

you filed into the crowd about halfway through the first set, that seijoh was obviously going to win. the vibes were up and good, oikawa fangirls fawning and falling. you just didnt understand, when your better looking love of your life, hajime iwazumi, was standing right there. well, youd kill anyone who came close to being a fangirl of him.

seijoh took the first set, and the second one, now advancing to the next round. you were over the moon excited, bouncing down each step to find iwa. you managed to tag onto the back of the train of players as they walked, making conversation with maki.

you noticed iwa and oikawa making conversation right outside of the warm down room, and you bolted. you stood behind iwazumi, putting a finger over your lips as oikawa giggled.

" oh it looks like a iwa-chan fan girl does exist! " he chimed, tapping his chin while iwa hummed.

he turned around and his face instantly flushed, lips sputtering out noncoherent words. " wait - yn? what are you doing here? " he asked, shaking his head to clear any confusion.

" well - i broke a few laws just to see you " you laughed, yelping when oikawa shoved iwazumi into you, laughing

" atleast hug your lady! " oikawa gasped, hand on his hip as he tried to escape a running crowd after him.

iwa held you close, head over top of yours, " you did all that for me? " he asked quietly, face hot with embaressment.

" of course i did, iwa! you think id leave you alone with him - " you went to pull away and point, but noticed the stampede oikawa was trampled by.

you and iwa only giggled together, before he looked down at you with the utmost sincere eyes, " thank you. truly, thank you " he muttered, kissing the top of your head while holding your hands.

---

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI :

you didnt even see ushiwaka before he left, he only sent a simple text. 'leaving now, love you' was all he said, you couldnt tell if he was upset about you missing this match, youve been pretty busy, so maybe hed understand.

as much as tendou tried to poke him, he only put in headphones and stared out the window for the entire bus ride. he tried to collect himself before going off and playing for one of the most important tournaments in his entire highschool career - and you werent going to be there.

you sighed and tapped your foot anxiously against your floor, trying to decide if you should really risk skipping all your piled school work to see him. but of course you chose the latter. you threw on one of his academy volleyball hoodies and began the drive.

of course you buckled, and barely sped up. all because of ushijimas extreme car safety thing he had for you. there was a little sticky note reminding you to buckle, and a photo of you two covering anything thing on the right side of the speedometer. and when you flipped your visor down, there was a sticky note next to the mirror that read, 'stop looking in mirrors. you know youre pretty'

you parked pretty shitty, running in and tripping over a few steps as you caught the last glimpse of the second set. ushijima absolutely slamming the last point into the ground. the crowd went wild for them, of course, it was shiratorizawa. everyone needed to see your hunk of a boyfriend that was the best spiker in the prefecture.

you watched him walk off the court, not paying attention to any of the harsh celebration dont by goshiki and tendou. he wiped his forehead, before lining up to shake hands. when the team came to thank to fans, he finally saw you.

you watched every muscle tighten up, and his stoic face falter for a moment. tendou nudged him a bit, before laughing as they walked away. you walked down the stairs carefully, trying not to trip again or you wouldnt hear the end of it from ushijima.

" yn. " he said broodingly, already halfway up to stairs to find you first.

" wakatoshi! " you beamed, trying to rush down to him, but he caught you first, demolishing you into this bear of a hug. " ushi - ! - cant breathe! " you squeaked out, and he let go.

" thank you for making it " he said quietly, blinking down at you, and for a moment, he actually smiled with his teeth.

---

SATORI TENDOU :

he was ecstatic for his game tonight, knowing it was against some no name school that they would beat in 30 minutes. but he was quickly shot down when he heard you say the words 'i cant make it tonight'. so he sulked and sighed.

" yn.. are you sure youre really reallyyyy busy? " he asked, putting his head down on your shoulder as you ate your lunch.

" yes, im sorry tendou " you chewed out, blinking over at him and giving him an apologetic smile.

" hm " was all he peeped out before sitting down in the desk ahead of you, backwards so he could see your face.

he drew meaningless shapes into the desk, huffing and sighing as you packed up your lunch box. the bell rang and you said your goodbye, not seeing him for the rest of the school day. you made sure to send him a big and happy good luck text, hopeful that it would bring his spirits up a bit.

when you went home, you immediately stared on your chores. you picked up around the house, your room, and helped cook, all while reading through your homework assignment. you tried your best to get it done in time to catch the game.

luckily you didnt live far from the stadium, so you arrived just in time for the match to begin. and as tendou expected, they beat the opponents in a whopping 43 minutes. he was giggling with goshiki, and practically jumping over ushijimas head while celebrating.

you stood in the hallway, squinting around and trying to peer over the crowd. you noticed a white and purple jersey, with the most noticeable red hair upon anyone, walking next to the broad wakatoshi.

" satori! " you bellowed out, trying to wave and get his attention but he was on a one track mind.

well, he was, but ushijima turned his head and nodded at you, before tapping tendous shoulder and pointing right in your direction. you waved happily, trying to get him to notice you actually came. and you swore the room just got brighter.

he smiled and laughed, running up to you and pulling your body into a hug. " so you caved? how was i? " he giggled, his cat like face peering down at yours with triumph.

" you all played very well, satori. " you spoke, kissing the corner of his lip and smiling.

" i have the best girlfriend ever " he announced, squeezing you until you coughed one too many times. " see, i told you she'd come, wakatoshi! " he chimed, grabbing around your shoulders to keep you by his side.

ushijima just grunted, looking around before looking down at you. you backed away slightly, smiling nervously all while tendou giggled once more.

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nebulaafterdark · 2 days ago

Text

Exile (Part 6)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

SotR SPOILERS

Part 5

“Y/N’s become too Capitol for the districts, she’s losing her pull there.” Anyone with eyes can see that’s been Snow’s plan all along. Sever her ties with the people.

“How do we fix that?” Haymitch wonders.

“We don’t,” Plutarch decides. “We let her play her hand and wait.”

“How long?” How many recordings? How many tributes? How many of her tears will waiting cost?

Plutarch lifts a shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine. But when the time comes, she’s our in with the Capitol.”

This news does subsequently nothing to make Haymitch feel better. If anything he feels worse. Downing the rest of Plutarch’s prized liquor bottle before returning to the tribute center. They won’t be provided passage home until the games are over.

The penthouse is quiet now, without Maximus and Denali. Y/N can’t cry anymore about it, not now. She’s had one too many glasses of champagne. Making quick work of the buttons on Haymitch’s shirt, as the door of their suite closes behind them.

Alcohol is nice, drugs are better, but nothing brings the temporary tidal wave of euphoria like Haymitch. His mouth pressed to hers, reducing her brain to mush.

Haymitch rests his hand over hers. “You ok?”

“Not really,” Y/N admits. “Need something to take the edge off.”

“I can get you-”

“You,” she breathes, “I just want you.”

Haymitch tightens his hold on her. I want you too. More than I want to want anything.

Her dress joins his shirt and then his pants, until they’re laid bare. Not district, nor Capitol. Perhaps because they are meant to be neither; they belong to each other.

Nothing exists outside of the gentle rocking of his hips. Nothing to do but breathe him in.

Y/N’s fingers tangle in his hair, drawing him closer.

————————————————————————

They aren’t made to stay past the announcement of Cashmere’s victory. The tribute’s caskets are loaded onto the train and they’re off to twelve.

“Do they have family?” Haymitch asks.

“No.”

“Not even extended? No aunts or uncles?”

“I don’t know, Haymitch.” Y/N sighs. “They’d been going it alone all their lives, if they had someone, I’m sure they would’ve been there.”

Haymitch nods.

“I can ask Cherry and Tucker if they have room.” Tyson’s parents have a little cemetery outback, couldn’t bear to be parted from their son. A few others from the seam take up residence in the spaces beside him now.

Again he nods, before tipping his empty glass upside down and rising to his feet. “I’ll be in the bar car if you need me.”

Y/N lowers her gaze, waiting until the door slides closed behind him to stand. She is headed elsewhere, to the car where two coffins rest, side by side. Collapsing to her knees in the small space between them and resting a hand over each.

Her gut tells her that under her right palm lies Denali, the spitfire of a girl who showed up the careers. And beneath her right is the little boy who clung to her in the elevator. Maximus. But Y/N has not the want nor will to push back the lids and prove her theory.

She remains there, holding vigil until her legs ache. Shifting position enough to lie down and cry herself to sleep.

Once he’s nice and wasted Haymitch stumbles down to the train car farthest from their sleeping quarters. The sight of Y/N’s feet poking out from between the caskets is an unwelcome reminder that this is standard practice for her.

He crouches down, giving her leg a little shake.

“Haymitch?” Y/N lets out a sleepy sigh.

“Come to bed, angel.”

“I don’t wanna leave them.”

“I know,” Haymitch breathes.

“You can go, it’s ok.” She won’t be alone.

“I’ll stay,” though the notion is still foreign to him.

————————————————————————

Y/N’s first stop after departing the train station is the Carrell’s front door. Her district partner, Tyson, had taken care to list off each of his siblings favorite snacks, then his Ma and Pa. Y/N takes equal care to make sure she never comes to them empty handed.

His parents, Cherry and Tucker, embrace her with open arms. Growing together through their collective loss.

Today is different. His siblings are sent to their rooms and Y/N finds herself strapped to the dining room chair.

“What are you doing?” She laughs. Surely this is a joke of some sort.

“What are you doing?” Tyson’s father bites out.

“I brought you cinnamon rolls.” Y/N stammers, “you don’t like them anymore?”

“Don’t do that.” Cherry snaps.

“Do what?” Y/N is starting to panic now, struggling at the rope binding her hands behind her back.

“Act like you’re the same. Nothin’ about you is the same.” The woman says. “You stopped goin’ to the hob, stopped comin’ to see us. Married a man who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire, started chummin’ it up with those freaks in the Capitol.”

Tucker shakes his head.

“Uh, uh, not my girl.” Cherry presses on, “I started askin’ around, tryin’ to make sense of what I was seein’. Turns out, somethin’ like this happened before. With the McCoy’s girl.”

“What are you-”

“They took that baby for the games, but she didn’t make it that far. Those animals did somethin’ to her, replaced her with somebody who had a bug in her ear. Didn’t fool her parents none.”

“Like a body double?” Y/N asks.

“The Callow boy died a while before she did and didn’t smell half as foul when he got home.” Tucker recounts.

“I don’t understand.”

“She was long gone before anybody knew and that was over a decade ago.” Cherry murmurs, “imagine how good they coulda got at passin’ people off for somebody else in fourteen years.”

“You think I’m someone else?” Y/N frowns, “a body double from the Capitol?”

“Maybe not a double, maybe they did somethin’ to you.”

“Nothing like you think.” Y/N assures them.

“I love you like my own, so I’m only gonna ask you once.” Tucker drawls, “did they put something in your head?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “If you have questions about what happened to the girl in the Capitol during the Quarter Quell, Haymitch might know.”

“I don’t trust Haymitch any further than I can throw him,” Tucker runs a hand over his grief stricken face. “And right now I’m not even sure I can trust you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Then tell us what happened. And it better make a hell of a lot more sense than what you’ve been saying, little girl.”

Y/N pauses, collecting herself. “Snow was going to sell me to the highest bidder. Haymitch made him a deal.”

“Why would President Snow give a damn if you married him or not?” It doesn’t make any sense.

Y/N tells her. “A victor has never married a victor before, the curiosity was there. Snow just took advantage of it, he recorded us together and sold that instead. Threatened my family, if I didn’t perform, I’m willing to bet that includes you too… So I performed.”

The room is silent.

“It’s up to you, believe me or don’t. I came here to make sure you were ok and to ask if I could bury my kids in your backyard.” No secret Capitol agenda.

“Tell us something only you would know.” Tyson’s father demands, wanting to believe her but needing to be sure.

“The first flower I left for Tyson was a dandelion. When it died, I replaced it with a daisy, and a bluebell after that.”

This is Y/N, as best they’ll ever be able to tell.

“Should I keep going?”

Cherry cuts the rope around Y/N’s wrists. “Why do you want to bury them here?”

“They didn’t have a family before, I thought it might be nice for them to have one now.” Y/N massages the blood back into her hands.

Tyson’s mother joins his father, in front of the younger woman. “Sorry about all that.”

“It’s fine.” Y/N sighs, “no one has ever gone to the trouble of tying me up for an intervention before. You guys must really love me.”

“You do what you gotta, from now on Ma and Pa are with you.” You’re the closest thing we’ve got to our boy.

Y/N thanks them, allowing them to hold her for as long as it suits them. The same way she always has.

Eventually she finds her way back home, back to Haymitch and the house in Victor’s Village. He’s the only one who understands her now.

“What’d they say about the kids?” Haymitch wonders.

“They said yes.”

“You were gone a while.”

“They tied me to a chair for interrogation.” Y/N tells him.

What in the hell? “You wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah, actually. They thought I was a Capitol body double or that I had a bug in my head.”

Oh.

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409

#haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy smut #haymitch smut #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #thg haymitch #moves & countermoves #exile

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chanelrolls · 2 days ago

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Love and Deepspace Men pretending to be gay to get closer to you.

pairings: sylus x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, xavier x reader, caleb x reader

A/N: This is a headcanon of how the LIs would pretend to be gay so that you would feel safe and comfortable around their presence. Requests are open. I'll welcome them wholeheartedly.

SYLUS

Sylus doesn’t just pretend to be gay—he turns it into a performance. He commits so flawlessly that no one even questions him. He doesn’t stutter, hesitate, or act out of character. If anything, his arrogance makes people believe him even more.

He carefully crafts his lies to be believable. He drops subtle hints in conversation, never making it obvious, just enough that people draw their own conclusions.

If you ever ask why he never seems interested in women, he just smirks, “Sweetheart, I like my partners just as ruthless as I am. Do you think you could handle that?”

He treats it like a game. He enjoys seeing how long he can keep the charade up before you're able to catch on. He especially loves watching your reactions when you start to get too comfortable with the idea.

He starts making offhanded comments about men, but he never actually compliments them. “At least he knows how to wear a suit properly. I respect that.” It’s just vague enough to keep the illusion.

Despite his act, he still flirts with you constantly—just in ways that sound platonically playful. “If only I was into women, hmm? What a tragedy.”

If you ever try to set him up with another guy, he dodges it smoothly. “Ah, but I have high standards, darling. He wouldn’t last five minutes with me.”

The second another man actually starts showing interest in you, his entire demeanor shifts. He gets subtly possessive, but masks it with amusement. “Him? Really? You could do better."

He lets you get too comfortable before dropping the act. Maybe one day, when you casually lean against him, laughing about how he’s the “perfect gay best friend.” He hums in amusement before leaning in close, voice dropping to a murmur. “Best friend? Hilarious.”

SCENARIO

You and Sylus are sitting at a high-end café, sipping on overpriced espresso. You suddenly begin teasing him about his supposed preferences, and he plays along effortlessly. You ask, “So, if you had to choose a man to date, who would it be?”

Sylus swirls his drink, amused. “Ah, a difficult question. I do appreciate a man with taste. A well-fitted suit. Confidence. Maybe someone who plays chess.”

You grin, “So, a rich, cunning type? That explains a lot.”

He smirks. “If I weren’t already spoken for, perhaps I’d entertain the thought.”

You shoot out a chortle, mirroring his action of twirling his drink. “See? Really, we always have the same likes and tastes, you're the perfect gay best friend."

He imperceptibly huffs, setting his cup down. Then, leaning closer, his voice drops to something softer, almost dangerous. “Who said I was your friend?”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

Sylus only smirks, sipping his coffee like he didn’t just drop a bombshell.

ZAYNE

Zayne’s approach is subtle but convincing. He never outright says he’s gay—he just lets people assume.

If someone asks him about his ideal type, he responds in the most vague, deadpan way possible. "Men."

He doesn’t act any differently than usual. That’s what makes it believable. His usual professionalism, reserved nature, and lack of visible romantic interest in others make it easy for rumors to spread.

When you jokingly asked him about it one day, he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he just tilts his head slightly and says, “Does it matter?”

He finds mild amusement in you being too comfortable around him, thinking he’s completely safe. (he's not.)

He doesn’t really do the whole “pretend to check out men” thing—he thinks it’s unnecessary. Instead, he subtly steers conversations in ways that reinforce the misunderstanding.

If you ever try to ask him about what he seeks in a man, he dodges the question with vague, clinical responses. “Compatibility is determined by more than just surface-level attraction.”

Eventually, you get too comfortable that you starts using him as a fake boyfriend to ward off creeps. He plays along, but secretly enjoys claiming you as his even if it was meant to be a ploy.

When you finally gets suspicious, he doesn’t admit it immediately. Instead, he just looks at you, waiting for you to piece it together.

Once you do realize the truth, he simply nods and says, “So you’ve figured it out.” No apology, no embarrassment—just quiet amusement at how long it took you.

SCENARIO

You're casually sitting with Zayne at a park bench, scrolling through dating profiles. You then sigh dramatically. “You’re so lucky, you know? No dating stress. No dealing with annoying guys. Just living your best life.”

Zayne glances at you. “Is that so?”

“Yeah! I mean, you don’t have to deal with this whole ‘finding the perfect guy’ nonsense. You already know what you want, right?”

Zayne hums in thought before responding simply, “I do.”

You let out a groan. “Ugh, I wish I had it that easy.”

A pause. Zayne looks at you with something unreadable in his expression. Then, after a beat, he says, “Perhaps you do.”

You frown. “…What does that mean?”

He doesn’t answer. Just smirks ever so slightly before returning to his book.

RAFAYEL

Rafayel fully leans into the performance with zero shame. He has fun with it, exaggerating everything for his own entertainment.

The moment he realizes that acting gay makes you way more comfortable around him, he makes it his new favorite game.

He starts fake-fawning over men, but in a way that’s so extra it almost sounds satirical. “MC, tell me, have you ever seen a man with cheekbones that sharp?! What a gift from the heavens. I may cry.”

He deliberately gets touchy with you, knowing you won’t suspect anything. Resting his chin on your shoulder, hugging you from behind, playing with your hands—it’s all fair game now.

If anyone asks about his type, he sighs dramatically and says something ridiculous like, “My heart belongs to the sea and to men with tragic backstories.”

The second another guy flirts with you, his energy shifts. He crosses his arms, watching with dead eyes. Then, suddenly, he’s clinging onto you like a lifeline. “Oh, darling, rescue me! This is so overwhelming.” (Really, he just wants the guy to leave.)

Whenever you ask him about his “exes,” he completely makes things up. “Ah, yes. Leonardo. He was a poet, you know. Tragic love. Very dramatic.” (He does this purely to mess with you)

He treats it all like a joke until one day, you offhandedly say something like, “You’re my safest friend.” And suddenly, it isn’t as funny anymore.

But he’s awful at keeping up the act. One slip-up and he’s doomed. When you casually rest your hand on his chest one day, his entire body tenses. Or maybe when you flirt back and then he suddenly forgets how to breathe.

Eventually, he just stops pretending. But by the time you realize it, he’s already pinning you against the couch, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oops. Looks like I got a little too close, huh?”

SCENARIO

You and Rafayel are sitting on a pier, legs dangling over the edge. The sun is setting, and the waves crash gently below. You initiate the comversation, “I wish I had a romance as dramatic as yours.”

Rafayel sighs, placing a hand over his heart. “Ah, love. So fleeting. So cruel.”

“You sound like you belong in a soap opera.”

He just smirks, bumping his shoulder against yours. “And yet, you adore me anyway.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I do. You’re the best fake boyfriend I could ask for.”

Rafayel’s smirk falters for just a second. Then, slowly, he leans in. His voice drops to a murmur.

“Fake?”

XAVIER

Xavier’s attempt at pretending to be gay is an absolute trainwreck. He isn’t a liar by nature, so when he does try, it’s painfully obvious. If asked about his type, he panics and blurts out, “Men. I love men.” Dead silence follows.

His reason for pretending to be gay is simple: you said you felt the safest around him, so in a moment of impulse, he blurts out, “That’s because I’m gay.”

Instant regret. His face stays neutral, but internally? Panic. He realizes too late this means he can be close to you without you suspecting a thing.

The problem? He’s naturally affectionate. Xavier isn’t touchy, but he doesn’t move away when you lean on him, holds his hand absentmindedly, or play with his fingers.

You treat him like a safe space, and it drives him insane, telling him, “I love how comfortable I feel around you.” Xavier, staring at your intertwined hands, says: “…Me too.”

His ‘gay act’ is ridiculously bad, but you bought it at first. Until the way he looks at you starts feeling off.

He gets a little too soft around you. You often catch him staring at your lips too long. His voice is too gentle when he says your name, and he remembers everything about your preferences.

The real problem starts when you experimented with his boundaries one day. “Xavier, can I cuddle with you? You’re like my emotional support pillow.”

He freezes. He should say no. He really should. Instead, he clears his throat and mutters, “…If you want.”

SCENARIO

It’s late at night, and both of you are lying on the couch, wrapped in a shared blanket. Your head rests on Xavier’s shoulder, breathing softlt against his skin. He smells too good. You utter, “I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

Xavier stares at the ceiling. He can feel the weight of you against him, the warmth of your body. It’s unbearable.

You add, “I feel the safest around you.”

His throat tightens. He shouldn’t be hearing this. Not when you think he’s—

You shift, pressing closer. “…I wish you weren’t gay.”

His heart stops. For a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

Xavier swallows hard, forcing himself to stay still. He lifts a hand, hesitating, before gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His voice is barely above a whisper, “…Me too.”

CALEB

Caleb doesn’t just pretend—he weaponizes the misunderstanding. He’s been in your life since forever, so if people assume you're just besties and he happens to be gay, he doesn’t correct them. In fact, he leans into it.

He’ll act as the perfect wingman, making sure every guy you dated somehow ends up hating their time with you. He sabotages without looking like he’s doing it. “Oh, you like him? Huh. I heard he cheated on his last girlfriend. But if you’re sure…” (He made that up.)

Though Caleb absolutely hates doing this, but if it’s the only way to get you close to him, he’ll do it.

He’s good at it. Too good. Because he’s always been selective about women, no one questions it when he claims to have no interest.

It’s a slow burn. He makes himself your most reliable friend, your protector, the one person you never had to worry about.

Whenever you vent about guys, he’s always there to listen, nodding with quiet understanding. But internally, he wants to put the heads of the guys you dated on a stick.

He treats you so gently, and it frustrates him that you don't even see through it.

One day, a guy gets too close to you, and Caleb steps in, voice cold. “I’d back off if I were you.”

You finally realized the truth when he stops playing along and just stares at you with an expectant gaze.

When you finally confront him, he only gives you a knowing look. “You really think I’d let just anyone this close to me?”

SCENARIO

You're venting to Caleb about another failed date. “Why can’t guys be like you?”

Caleb tenses. But he forces a smile. “Yeah. Why can’t they?”

Absentmindedly, your mouth somewhat continued to run faster than your brain. “I wish I could just date you. If only you weren’t—”

A pause.

Caleb tilts his head. “…If I weren’t what?”

You realize the weight of what you said, laughing awkwardly. “You know. If you weren’t—”

His eyes darken. “Say it.”

And that’s when you knew.

#lads headcanon #love and deepspace #lnds #lnds sylus #lnds caleb #lnds zayne #lnds rafayel #lnds xavier #lnds headcanons #roleplay #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lnds x you

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reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeko · 2 days ago

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You'll be fine, just be nice and beg (pt.2)

So, I wanted to give a bit more of a scenario type thing rather that just basic how they'd act- this was the best I came up with on 2 hours of sleep sorry if it sucks <3

I promise there are a LARGE Handful of TWST boys that would make you beg for anything. All smug and shi and they get away with it cause they’re pretty😒

Trey likes being a bitch about it too.

He just made some new treat, you were over, and you were STARING. Just waiting for him to get the hint and offer you one.

He'll act nice and polite and then he's giving the most devious glance in your direction.

"Hm? Need something?"

Bitch ass-

"Oh You want one?" He's turning to look at you, raised brow as he holds one just i n c h e s from your lips. "Say please, and Beg."

He's waiting, oh and don't even try to reach for it or bite it from his hand till you do what he says, hes pulling his hand away and tisking like he's dissapointed in you 😞

And once you give in, he's smirking and snickering as he lets you have the treat.

"There you go, wasn't that hard was it?"

Jade honestly finds it entertaining.

you're at the Mostro Lounge's bar with Jade, just watching him clean up and try some new drink recipes.

He makes one that looks really good in your opinion, So you ask if you can taste it, simple yes or no right?

No. Becasue why would Jade ever make something simple.

"Oh?" He looks at you and smirks, leaning his elbows on the bar. "Surely if you want it so badly, you'll beg for it, yes?" His smirk goes back to his usual smile.

You wanna punch him in the fucking face. But you know you'd get your shit rocked. So you dont :(

Eventually you just say fuck it and give in.

SHIT EATING ASS GRIN. "Oh im sorry I didn't quite hear you, could you repeat that?"

He makes you do it two more times before chuckling and sliding you the drink.

It had mushrooms in it :(

Lila takes every chance he can get to make you beg him for something.

"Oh humor this old bat wont you?"

Your both in his dorm, up late playing Sevens knows what, and Lilia has a bottle of soda next to him.

You ask him to hand you the drink, not looking away from the screen.

He smirks, draping himself over you and giggling. "Beg"

"Lils are you serious-" "Yes now beg or dehydrate."

You pause the game just to stare at the old fae batting his lashes at you.

WIth a sigh you give in, and he lights up.

"Again, You sound simply adorable kufufufufu!"

He hands you the soda just as you're about to smack him.

It was slightly flat, and he constantly replicates the way you begged randomly to piss you off.

Can you tell Jade pisses me off😭

#twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #Lilia Vanrouge x reader #jade leech x reader #trey clover x reader #disney twisted wonderland

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devdozes · 3 days ago

Text

♣ What ever happened to the hayloft? (pt.3)

I RREACHED 100 FOLLOWERS OH MY GDO!! IM WRITIGN A 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL FIC FOR U ALL I LVOE YOU ALL !! ♥

Part 2

You swallowed, but it felt like choking on glass. Your throat was dry, your stomach twisted in knots so tight they made you want to double over and wretch. The weight of the situation crashed down on you all at once, like a thousand bricks slamming into your chest, forcing the air from your lungs. The room around you—the restaurant that had once felt warm, inviting, safe—now felt wrong. Distorted. The edges of the dim lighting felt too sharp, the walls seemed to breathe, and the silence—it wasn't just quiet, it was deafening.

There was no one here.

Not a single soul.

You were completely alone.

With her.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out all rational thought, all attempts to compose yourself. Your body screamed at you to move, to fight, to do something, but all you could do was sit there, frozen, caught like an insect pinned under the gaze of something far more dangerous than you had anticipated.

Sparkle hadn't moved from her spot, her dainty fingers still twirling that thin red rope, the bells in her hair chiming softly as she tilted her head at you. She looked like a dream—like something ethereal, almost unreal. But that only made it worse.

Because the reality was sinking in.

You had been speaking to her the entire time.

Not Phainon. Not the person you had slowly, painstakingly, begun to trust again.

No, you had been speaking to a monster wrapped in silk and gold, a shadow wearing a smile, a predator disguised as something delicate.

And you had let it happen.

How long had it been her?

Your fingers twitched.

Was it just tonight? Had she switched places at some point during dinner? Or had she been Phainon from the very beginning?

The thought made your stomach drop, ice spreading through your veins.

If it was from the start…

If the real Phainon had never been here…

Then where was he?

Was he even alive?

A fresh wave of nausea hit you so suddenly you had to clench your fists against your thighs, grounding yourself in the sting of your own nails biting into your skin.

You hated this.

You hated not knowing.

You hated the feeling of being played, of being out of control, of being the fool in someone else’s twisted little game.

And she was enjoying it.

Sparkle sat there, watching you, waiting.

She knew. She could see it—see the way your mind was unraveling, the way your breath had quickened, the way your entire body had tensed as the weight of everything settled on your shoulders. She was waiting for you to snap, to react, to break.

She wanted to see you crumble.

You clenched your jaw, forcing down the panic clawing at your ribs.

You couldn't let her see you break.

You wouldn’t.

Even as your thoughts raced—cycling through every possible mistake, every conversation you’d had with "Phainon" tonight, every single thing you might have let slip—you forced yourself to sit up straighter, to even out your breathing, to stare back at her with the same cold, unreadable expression you always carried.

Sparkle’s lips curled, amused.

"Oh? No reaction? Not even a flinch?" She hummed, her voice lilting, playful. "How impressive. You’re trying so hard to look unaffected, darling. But you forget…"

She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting against her palm. Her fluorescent pink eyes glowed, the butterfly detail shimmering unnaturally in the dim light.

"I can hear your heartbeat."

Your entire body locked up.

"…What?"

Sparkle smiled.

"I can hear how fast it’s racing. You’re panicking." She let out a soft, airy laugh. "You’re very good at hiding your emotions, I’ll give you that. But your body—ah, your body betrays you, sweetheart. Every little muscle twitch, every breath, every flicker of movement—you’re terrified."

Your nails dug deeper into your skin.

"You’re mistaken," you said flatly, voice steady, betraying none of the chaos burning inside you.

She laughed again, quiet, almost affectionate.

"Oh, darling. Lying doesn’t suit you."

Your eyes flicked to the goldfish still floating around her, their translucent fins flickering as they weaved through the air like spirits. The pink-red aura clung to her like a second skin, pulsating with an energy that felt wrong, like something not meant to exist in this reality.

This isn’t real.

That thought echoed in your mind, but the reality was—it was.

You had let this happen.

You had been careless.

You had been so caught up in the moment, so desperate to grasp onto the small sliver of happiness Phainon had given you, that you didn’t even notice.

And now?

You were paying the price.

Your stomach twisted painfully, regret curdling in your chest.

If something had happened to Phainon…

If he was gone because of your mistake…

No.

No, you couldn’t think like that. Not yet.

Not until you had answers.

Not until you knew for sure.

You forced yourself to inhale deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, letting it steady you.

Then, slowly, carefully, you spoke.

"What do you want?"

Sparkle’s grin widened.

"There it is," she murmured, delighted. "That sharpness, that bite. I was beginning to wonder if you’d just sit there in stunned silence all night."

Your patience was running thin.

"Cut the theatrics."

She tilted her head, tapping a finger against her cheek. "Oh, but where’s the fun in that?"

You didn’t respond, only staring her down with unblinking, cold resolve.

She sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. I suppose I can be direct. You’re quite the intriguing one, aren’t you? Smart, sharp, dangerous—" She leaned in, voice lowering to something almost sultry. "And oh-so-very alone."

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t let your expression waver.

She knew exactly what buttons to push.

"Such a lonely thing," she mused, eyes gleaming. "Never fully trusting anyone. Always watching, always suspecting, always waiting for the inevitable betrayal. It must be exhausting."

You said nothing.

"But then Phainon came along, didn’t he?" She tilted her head, studying you. "And for the first time in so, so long—you let your guard down. Just a little."

Your fingers curled into fists.

She giggled, a sickly sweet sound.

"And look what happened."

Rage burned in your chest.

"You think this is funny?" you asked, voice dangerously low.

Sparkle’s lips curled, sharp and wicked.

"Yes." "Fuck off Sparkle."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Sparkle let out the sweetest, most saccharine giggle you had ever heard.

It sent a chill down your spine, not because it was eerie or haunting—but because it was genuine. Like she was actually amused by your reaction. Like she found you charming.

She twirled a strand of her pink-tipped hair around her finger, her fluorescent pink eyes flashing with mischief.

"Oh, sweetheart, or should i call you.. Hayloft?" she purred, her tone dripping with amusement. "You are just so much fun."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to react.

Her grin widened, delighted by your resistance.

Then, just as suddenly as she appeared—

—she was gone.

The space where she sat was empty, the air humming with the remnants of her presence. A faint, lingering scent of cherry blossoms and something sickly sweet clung to the air. The goldfish that had once circled her flickered like dying embers before vanishing completely.

And just like that, the atmosphere of the restaurant returned to normal.

The eerie stillness evaporated. The lights softened. The walls no longer felt like they were breathing. The world fell back into place.

But you didn’t.

Your fingers dug into your palms, nails pressing into skin.

Your heartbeat was still too fast.

Your breathing was still too shallow.

And deep inside your gut, you felt sick.

Because no matter how much you wanted to pretend otherwise, one horrifying fact remained—

You had been played.

Again.

And worse… You had let it happen.

Your stomach twisted, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over you as you swallowed down the regret bubbling up in your throat. You had let your guard down. You had let yourself relax. You had let yourself believe—even for a moment—that you were safe. That things were okay.

But they weren’t.

Not even close.

The chair scraped against the floor as you stood, hands gripping the edge of the table for a brief moment before releasing it. You needed to move. You needed air.

You stormed toward the exit, pushing the door open and stepping out into the cold night air.

The city lights flickered, neon signs buzzing faintly in the distance. The streets were alive, bustling with the usual night crowd. People laughed, talked, carried on with their lives.

Oblivious.

Completely oblivious.

Meanwhile, you stood there, feeling like your entire reality had just been shattered into a thousand unrecognizable pieces.

You clenched your fists.

No more mistakes. . . . . The cold night air bit at your skin, yet your body felt hot. A slow, creeping warmth that coiled around your limbs like vines, growing heavier and heavier with every breath you took. Your vision blurred at the edges, the neon lights of the city stretching into hazy, colorful streaks. The voices of passing strangers sounded distant, muffled, as if you were sinking underwater.

And then—

Your stomach lurched.

Fuck.

You swayed on your feet, reaching out instinctively to steady yourself against the nearest thing you could find—the doorframe of the restaurant. But even then, the world tilted. It was a slow, sickening sensation, like gravity had suddenly changed its mind about which way was down.

Your pulse throbbed in your ears.

The alcohol.

Shit.

You hadn’t felt its effects earlier, too consumed by adrenaline, by anger, by the suffocating weight of Sparkle’s presence. But now? Now it was hitting you all at once.

Your body felt light and heavy at the same time, a strange contradiction, like you were both floating and sinking. Your legs weren’t quite steady beneath you. Your thoughts—sharp, calculating, always in control—felt fogged. Sluggish.

You hated it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to focus, to push past the haze, to gather your bearings before—

A hand.

Firm. Warm. On your shoulder.

Your breath hitched.

The air around you shifted, and before you even turned, before you even looked—you knew.

Mydei.

You tensed, hard.

His touch was **light, careful, hesitant—**but it burned like a brand against your skin. Not because of the heat, not because of the pressure, but because it was him. Because you were too vulnerable right now, too unsteady, too fucking exposed.

And he was standing too close.

You slowly, slowly turned your head, blinking through the blur of your vision to meet his gaze.

Golden eyes. Watching you, studying you, searching for something.

His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something—ask something—but no words came out.

Your throat tightened.

You hated the way he looked at you.

Not because it was cruel, or mocking, or filled with that usual sharp-edged amusement he carried when you bantered.

No—

You hated it because it was soft.

Because it was concerned.

Because it made something inside you ache.

"You’re drunk," he finally said, voice low, even.

You scoffed, rolling your shoulders, attempting to shake off his hand. He let go immediately, but he didn’t step away.

"I’m fine," you muttered, though the words felt heavier on your tongue than they should’ve been.

A beat of silence.

You could still feel his eyes on you.

Then, quietly, he asked, "Did something happen?"

You stiffened.

For a second—just a second—your mind flashed back to the restaurant. The empty seats. The goldfish. That high-pitched giggle that still rang in your ears like a phantom echo.

Sparkle.

Sampo.

The Masked Fools.

"Shh," you hushed, stepping closer. "Let's go somewhere quiet. There are too many people here."

The second the words left your mouth, Mydei visibly stiffened.

His entire body froze—a slight twitch in his fingers, a stiff pull at his jaw, his eyes widening just slightly before he quickly masked it.

His voice came out a little more hesitant this time. "Uh… what?"

"Too many people," you repeated, leaning in as if whispering a deadly secret. "I can hear them. I can see them."

Mydei blinked.

Then, very slowly, very carefully, he took half a step back, giving you a once-over.

You could practically see the gears in his head turning, the internal struggle painted across his usually impassive face.

And then—

"Okay, um." He exhaled, putting his hands up in a slow, almost cautious manner. "Hey. Listen. When was the last time you, uh… talked to a professional? Like. A trained professional?"

You squinted. "What?"

"A therapist," he clarified, still keeping his hands up. "Or maybe a doctor. Either works."

Your brain, still swimming in alcohol, took five full seconds to process what he was implying.

And when it finally clicked—

Your eyes snapped open in realization.

"Are you—" You gawked at him. "Are you saying I need therapy?!"

"I'm saying," Mydei replied slowly, still eyeing you warily, "that you just told me there are too many people here." He gestured vaguely at the completely empty street. "And—correct me if I’m wrong—there is literally no one else here."

You froze.

Your eyes darted around again—this time, really looking.

Nothing.

No people.

No voices.

No one.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

A beat of silence passed between you two.

Then, Mydei let out a long, heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Alright," he muttered. "Yup. Definitely losing my mind."

"You're losing your mind?" you snapped, your paranoia shifting to defensiveness. "I was literally just drugged or something—something is happening!"

"Right, right." Mydei nodded. "And the ghost people are part of that, huh?"

"I wasn't seeing ghosts!"

"You literally just said you saw them!"

"I said I saw too many people!"

"Which—again—there are zero of!"

You glared at him.

He glared back.

Another beat of silence.

Then—

"...You're so fucking annoying," you muttered under your breath, rubbing your temples as the alcohol continued to cloud your thoughts.

"And you're freaking me out!" Mydei shot back, still looking vaguely concerned. "If you're gonna have a full mental breakdown, at least give me a heads-up first—"

"I am not having a mental breakdown!"

"Okay, sure."

"I am not!"

"You literally just—"

"Okay, shut up."

Mydei did, much to your surprise. He pressed his lips together, watching you closely.

You took in a slow breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to think.

You weren’t crazy.

This wasn’t some hallucination.

Sparkle was real. She had been there. You had heard her, seen her, felt her presence looming over you like a shadow.

But if Mydei was right… if the restaurant had truly been empty…

Then that meant Sparkle had been messing with your perception the entire time.

Which meant—

Fuck.

Your fingers clenched into fists.

"Okay," you exhaled, resolute. "I need to get home."

And then you remember. Phainon.

Your breath hitched. Panic laced through your bloodstream, and without thinking, your hands shot forward, gripping the fabric of Mydei’s coat.

He stilled immediately.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, tight, desperate, as you glared up at him—your eyes sharp, demanding, and far too close.

“Mydei.” Your voice came out low, urgent, laced with something bordering on fear. “Where’s Phainon?”

His expression shifted.

For a split second, something in his gaze darkened—a fleeting shadow of tension, something unreadable lurking beneath the soft glow of his amber eyes. His jaw tightened, his posture stiffened, but the change was so quick that if you had blinked, you might’ve missed it.

Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone—replaced by something lighter, something almost teasing.

“He’s perfectly fine,” Mydei said, his tone even, too even. “He’s with Castorice, preparing for the mission.”

Your breath left you in a slow, relieved exhale.

But you didn’t let go.

And Mydei noticed.

His eyes flickered down to where your fingers still clung to his coat, your grip unwavering, your knuckles tense.

And then—very slowly—his lips curled into something soft, unreadable, but distinctly pleased.

Oh.

Oh, he liked this.

The realization made your stomach do a weird little flip—one that you ignored, of course, because you were far too confused to even begin unpacking that.

But Mydei?

He knew exactly what he was feeling.

Jealousy wasn’t something he was used to. Not in the way most people were. He wasn’t the type to get angry, to lash out, to make things obvious.

No.

Instead, jealousy in Mydei looked like this—

A smug little tilt of his head.

A lingering warmth in his gaze as he studied your expression, soaking in the worry you had for Phainon, the way you were gripping onto him without even realizing it.

And oh, how it irked him.

Because it wasn’t him you were worried about.

It wasn’t him you had spent your time with tonight.

It wasn’t him who had made you laugh, who had brought out that rare, soft look on your face.

It had been Phainon.

And that was what made Mydei’s grip on his own patience waver.

But, of course, he wasn’t about to let you know that.

So instead— "Hmph. You have a mission coming ahead, and you are here wasted. Quick, I will drop you off at home."

You blinked slowly, the weight of the night pressing heavy against your limbs. Mydei’s words barely registered in your foggy mind, but you understood enough. Mission. Wasted. Home. Yeah. That all made sense.

So you nodded. Just a little. Just enough for Mydei to take it as agreement.

"Good," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "Let’s go before you pass out in the street."

His hands found your shoulders again, firm yet oddly gentle, guiding you forward. But before you could even take a step, he made a quick decision—one that, in hindsight, he should have thought through more carefully.

With a quiet sigh, he moved to scoop you up.

Big mistake.

The moment Mydei’s arms hooked around your back and under your knees, your drunk, sluggish brain panicked.

He was picking you up? No. No, no, absolutely not.

Your body reacted before your mind even caught up.

In one swift, chaotic motion, you jerked forward—slamming into him with full, unfiltered force.

The impact sent both of you crashing down.

"—?!?"

Mydei’s back hit the pavement first, his breath escaping in a startled grunt. You landed right on top of him.

Silence.

A long, heavy, stunned silence.

The position was… questionable.

You were practically straddling him, your hands fisting the front of his coat for dear life, while his arms—which had originally been trying to carry you—were now pinned underneath you.

It took Mydei a full three seconds to process what had just happened.

Another two seconds to open his mouth.

But before he could say anything—

You punched him.

Square in the chest.

Hard.

"Oof—?! What the fuck?!" Mydei wheezed.

But you weren’t done.

Your drunken brain, still in fight-or-flight mode, registered him as a threat, and before you could stop yourself, you swung again.

This time, he caught your wrist.

"Okay—okay, stop—ow— hey!" Mydei yelped, dodging the next hit by twisting his head to the side. "What the hell?! I’m trying to help you, you dumbass!"

"DON’T TOUCH ME!" You growled, still trying to fight him off.

"You were literally—Ow—about to let me carry you—STOP HITTING ME!"

"I CHANGED MY MIND!"

"OH, NOW YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND?!"

"YES!"

At this point, anyone passing by would have thought you two were in the middle of a life-or-death brawl.

Mydei was half-pinned to the ground, struggling to restrain your drunken, flailing attacks, while you were fully committed to throwing hands, fueled by absolutely nothing but alcohol and unfiltered stubbornness.

"You are ACTUALLY insane—"

"AND YOU’RE AN IDIOT!"

"YOU LITERALLY JUST BODY-SLAMMED ME—"

"MAYBE YOU DESERVED IT!"

"HOW?!"

"I DUNNO! FIGURE IT OUT!"

At this point, Mydei had two options.

Let you continue beating the shit out of him until you eventually passed out from exhaustion.

End this fight the only way he knew how.

He chose option two.

And so, with zero hesitation, Mydei flipped you over.

In one swift motion, he twisted his body, using his legs and core strength to reverse your positions.

Now it was you who was pinned beneath him.

You blinked.

Mydei blinked.

Your breath hitched.

He was really close.

His weight pressed you down, firm and inescapable. His golden eyes—still slightly wide from all the chaos—locked onto yours, burning.

His hand was still gripping your wrist, holding it above your head, while his other hand braced against the pavement beside your face.

Silence.

The night air was suddenly too cold.

Or maybe too hot.

You weren’t sure anymore.

Mydei wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t teasing.

He was just… staring.

Like he was realizing something.

Like he was seeing you in a way he hadn’t before.

And you hated it.

Because it made your heart do that stupid, annoying thing.

The thing where it skipped a beat.

The thing it was NOT supposed to do.

"...Are you done?" His voice came out lower than before.

You swallowed.

"...No," you muttered stubbornly.

His lips twitched.

But this time, instead of a smirk, it was something softer.

Something more dangerous.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Didn’t think so." . . . . . You blinked, your head swimming, the neon lights of the city stretching into hazy, colorful smears around you. Your legs felt like jelly, every step unsteady, your body tilting slightly forward. Mydei, ever the responsible one, reached out again, hands firm yet careful as they steadied you. This time, you didn't shove him away. Mostly because you were too tired. And dizzy. And confused. And also—maybe—just a little too drunk to properly resist. Your body slumped slightly against him, and he let out a long, suffering sigh, as if he hadn’t been internally panicking for the past ten minutes about how to handle your current state.

Still, he didn’t complain. Not outwardly, at least. Instead, he adjusted his hold, one arm looping around your waist, the other grabbing your wrist as he guided you towards his car.

The walk was slow. Painfully slow. Not because Mydei was struggling—he wasn’t. He could carry you with one arm if he wanted to. But because you, in your current state, kept getting distracted. First, by a glowing sign above a shop. Then, by a stray cat crossing the street. Then, by absolutely nothing at all. Each time, you’d stop in your tracks, mumbling something incomprehensible, and Mydei would have to nudge you along, patience thinning yet amusement dancing in his golden eyes.

"Come on," he murmured, voice softer than usual, "just a little further."

You huffed but didn’t argue. Your body was too exhausted to resist, your thoughts too hazy to form a proper retort. Instead, you let yourself be led, your limbs heavy, your breath slow, your mind floating somewhere between consciousness and a dream.

And then, finally, he reached his car. With minimal effort, Mydei opened the passenger door and gently maneuvered you inside. You flopped against the seat with a sigh, your limbs sprawled awkwardly, your head lolling to the side. He leaned over, buckling your seatbelt with a carefulness that should’ve been unnecessary. His face was too close—warm breath ghosting over your skin, the scent of him filling the small space between you two. And yet, for some reason, he hesitated. Just for a second.

Golden eyes flickered down to your face, studying you. Your half-lidded gaze, your parted lips, the way your breath slowed as the exhaustion truly began to settle into your bones.

And then—

"Mydei," you muttered suddenly, your voice thick with drowsiness, "you’re so fucking weird."

He blinked.

"…Huh?"

"You—" You waved a limp hand in the air before letting it fall back onto your lap. "You always show up. You always—always act like you don’t care. But then you do shit like this. Like—like taking me home. Making sure I’m okay. But you’re so annoying about it."

Mydei let out a small, breathy laugh, stepping back as he shut the door. He walked around to the driver's seat, slipping inside and starting the engine, his hands gripping the wheel loosely. "I’m annoying," he repeated, a teasing lilt to his voice. "Got it. Anything else?"

"Yeah," you huffed. "You’re also—"

And then you just kept going.

Because apparently, drunk you had no filter.

You started talking. And talking. And talking.

About everything.

About nothing.

About how the neon lights outside the window looked like melted candy. About how you thought Sparkle was a stupid name. About how Phainon was really fucking annoying sometimes but in a way that made you want to punch him and not actually hate him. About how Mydei was also really fucking annoying, but in a different way. About how you liked the way his car smelled. About how you liked the sound of his voice, even though he was an asshole.

You just kept talking.

And Mydei?

Oh, Mydei was absolutely losing his mind.

He didn’t even care about half the things you were saying. It wasn’t about the words themselves—it was about you. The way you were just rambling. The way your guard was down completely. The way you kept leaning your head back against the seat, lazily gesturing with your hands, pouting when you lost your train of thought, trusting him enough to just talk like this. To be like this.

He was so, so fucked.

He tried to play it cool, keeping his eyes on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. But every few seconds, his lips would twitch. The corner of his mouth would lift into something small, barely noticeable, but distinctly fond.

Because how could he not smile?

You, the most stubborn, sharp-tongued, reckless person he knew, were just sitting there in his car, talking to him like he was the safest person in the world.

And god, he wished you’d never stop.

The next morning hit you like a damn truck.

Your head throbbed, the lingering remnants of last night’s alcohol still clinging to the edges of your consciousness. The world felt disoriented, your limbs sluggish as you blinked against the dim light seeping through your curtains. You groaned, rolling onto your side, only to immediately freeze.

A sinking feeling spread through your chest, dread creeping up your spine as last night’s memories came rushing back.

Oh. Oh no.

You had been drunk. Stupidly, ridiculously drunk. And you had talked. A lot.

To Mydei.

Your brain scrambled through the foggy recollections—hazy images of leaning against him, his hands steadying you, his stupidly warm presence guiding you to his car. And then—oh god. Oh god. You had rambled. About everything. About him.

You shot up in bed so fast that your head spun, hands gripping your blanket as if it would somehow stop your growing embarrassment from consuming you whole. No, no, no. This was not happening.

Your mouth clamped shut. Your fists tightened. And just like that—denial.

It never happened. Nothing happened.

If you simply ignored it, then it didn’t exist. That was the rule. That was your rule.

With that decision made, you forced yourself out of bed, shoving every humiliating memory into the deepest corner of your mind. You moved through your routine faster than ever, washing up, throwing on fresh clothes, grabbing your files—all while pointedly refusing to acknowledge the faint warmth lingering in your chest.

Nope. Absolutely not.

You had work to do. Important work. You were not about to let some dumb drunken nonsense distract you.

So, with all the grace of someone running from their problems, you stormed out of your apartment, clutching the investigation files tightly as you made your way to the base, pretending—no, committing—to the fact that last night never, ever happened. . . . . The walk to the investigation unit's base was brisk, your mind already shifting gears to focus on the task ahead. As you approached the familiar building, its imposing facade a testament to the seriousness of your work, you felt a sense of purpose settle over you. Whatever had happened the night before was in the past. Today was a new day, and you had a job to do.

Upon entering the base, the hum of activity greeted you—agents moving with purpose, the air thick with anticipation for the mission ahead. Amidst the crowd, a familiar figure caught your eye. Phainon stood near the briefing room, his gentle demeanor and ever-present smile offering a sense of calm amidst the chaos. His white fluffy hair was neatly styled yet messy in a way, and his attire, though standard issue, seemed to carry an air of meticulousness that matched his personality.

Relief flooded through you at the sight of him. The events of the previous night had left you unsettled, and seeing Phainon safe and well eased a burden you hadn't fully acknowledged. Without hesitation, you made your way over to him.

"Phainon," you called softly as you approached.

He turned, his cerulean blue weezer blue eyes lighting up as they met yours. "Good morning," he greeted warmly. "You seem... relieved to see me. Is everything alright?"

You hesitated for a brief moment, considering whether to divulge the details of last night's encounter. Ultimately, you decided against it. There was no need to burden him with your personal missteps.

"Just glad to see you're ready for the mission," you replied with a small smile.

Phainon's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if sensing there was more to your words, but he chose not to press the matter. Instead, he nodded, his expression remaining gentle. "We're all set. The briefing is about to begin."

Together, you entered the briefing room, where the rest of the team awaited. Castorice stood near the front, her presence both serene and commanding. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, contrasting sharply with the dark, intricately designed attire she wore. Despite her delicate appearance, there was an undeniable aura of deadly precision about her—a reminder of the power she wielded as the

Mydei leaned casually against the wall, his ash-blonde slightly tousled, giving him a roguish charm. His amber eyes flicked to you as you entered. You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, memories of your drunken antics resurfacing. Determinedly, you avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Aglaea was seated gracefully at the table, her golden blonde hair styled impeccably, and her attire exuding an air of sophistication. As the Strategist of the unit, her presence was both elegant and authoritative. She offered a polite nod in your direction, her blue-green eyes offered a glint of happiness at your arrival, despite the emotionless cold face she had worn, doomed yuri

Castorice stepped forward, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Her voice was soft yet carried a weight that demanded respect. "Our mission to Haldak commences in thirty minutes. Ensure all preparations are complete and report to the departure point promptly."

The team responded with affirmations, each member moving to finalize their gear and plans. You took a steadying breath, pushing aside any lingering personal distractions. The mission required your full attention, and you were determined to give nothing less.

As you turned to leave the room, Mydei fell into step beside you. His proximity made your pulse quicken, but you kept your expression neutral.

"Feeling better this morning?" he inquired, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You shot him a sidelong glance, noting the amusement dancing in his amber eyes. "I'm fine," you replied curtly, quickening your pace.

He chuckled softly but didn't press further. "Good. Wouldn't want you distracted during the mission."

You bit back a retort, knowing it would only encourage him. Instead, you focused on the path ahead, determined to prove that personal matters wouldn't interfere with your professionalism.

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur of activity. Final checks were completed, equipment secured, and strategies reviewed. As the departure time approached, the team gathered at the designated point, each member exuding a readiness that spoke of their dedication and skill.

Castorice surveyed the group, her gaze lingering on each member before she spoke. "Let's move out."

With that, the team set off towards Haldak, the weight of the mission settling over you all. Alright, you can do it.

The journey to Haldak was long and grueling, the air growing heavier with tension the closer you got to the border. The sight that awaited you upon arrival was nothing short of devastation. Haldak was a city constantly under siege, and it bore the scars of war like an open wound. Buildings stood in various states of ruin—some barely held together by fractured beams, others reduced to skeletal remains of what they once were. The roads were uneven and littered with remnants of past conflicts, debris scattered among the weary citizens who trudged through the streets with tired eyes and sunken faces. The air smelled of damp earth, dust, and the faint acrid sting of something burned long ago but never fully washed away.

You remained composed as you took everything in, your eyes sharp and calculating despite the neutral expression on your face. The mission required subtlety, and you were well-practiced in the art of observation without drawing suspicion. Though your primary concern was the supposed damages inflicted by Epos, the real reason for your presence was much more delicate—the Chief Minister of Haldak, Pytha herself.

Pytha stood at the entrance of the damaged city hall, waiting for your group with an unreadable expression. She was striking, with long, deep green hair tied into a low ponytail, and sharp golden eyes that held an intensity almost too piercing to be friendly. Dressed in a pristine, high-collared coat that set her apart from the weary citizens around her, she exuded an air of authority. Everything about her posture and demeanor was meticulously controlled—too controlled. She looked as if she had already prepared herself for every possible conversation, every possible question, her mind constantly calculating the next move.

You met her gaze without hesitation, keeping your expression neutral, neither hostile nor overly warm. Though you made sure to remain professional, your instincts were on high alert. Pytha had never officially requested the Investigation Unit’s help—rather, your presence here was entirely under the pretense of assessing the destruction caused by Epos. In truth, she was the primary suspect, and you had every intention of keeping her within your sights.

Before the silence could stretch into discomfort, Phainon took the lead, his usual cheerful and easygoing nature breaking through the tension like sunlight cutting through storm clouds.

"Chief Minister Pytha!" he greeted with a bright smile, stepping forward with an open and welcoming demeanor. "It’s an honor to finally meet you in person. I’ve read quite a bit about your efforts in maintaining Haldak despite the circumstances—you must be exhausted with all that responsibility!" His voice was light, friendly, carrying no trace of suspicion. If one didn’t know better, they would have assumed he was simply here as a concerned visitor.

Pytha's gaze flickered over Phainon, and for a brief moment, there was something unreadable in her golden eyes. Then, she offered a slow, measured nod. "Investigator Phainon. Your reputation precedes you." Her tone was smooth, perfectly polite, but there was no warmth in it. It was the tone of a politician—one who understood the power of words but did not waste them on unnecessary sentiment.

Phainon chuckled softly, unfazed by the lack of enthusiasm in her response. "Oh, I wouldn’t call it a reputation," he said, running a hand through his pale blonde hair, his expression as bright and earnest as ever. "I just like to help where I can! And I have to say, it’s really impressive how you’ve managed to keep things together here despite everything. Haldak’s been through so much, yet you’re still standing strong. That’s inspiring."

Pytha offered a small, unreadable smile. "It is not a matter of inspiration. It is a necessity."

While Phainon kept Pytha engaged with his easy chatter, Castorice stood beside you, her presence serene and reassuring as always. The silver-haired girl had an almost ethereal quality to her—a soft, gentle smile that never faltered, a calming aura that seemed to radiate pure tranquility despite the bleak surroundings. Even now, as the conversation unfolded, she remained an unwavering presence of quiet strength.

"You've done a wonderful job ensuring Haldak’s survival," Castorice spoke, her voice delicate yet unwavering. "Despite the tragedies that have befallen this city, there is still resilience in the people here. That is a testament to your leadership."

Pytha turned to Castorice, her gaze momentarily lingering, as if trying to gauge the sincerity behind her words. But Castorice’s expression remained gentle, unwaveringly kind. There was nothing to find in her face but warmth and understanding.

"It is simply my duty," Pytha finally said, her voice measured.

You continued to observe silently, taking in the subtle shifts in Pytha’s demeanor. She was incredibly well-trained in concealing her true thoughts, never once allowing a crack to show in her perfect composure. But something was off. The way her eyes darted to the ruins as if mentally taking note of what you were focusing on, the slight stiffness in her posture when Phainon praised her—she wasn’t just wary of outsiders. She was guarded. As if there was something she desperately didn’t want you to see.

Phainon, ever the master of disarming conversation, seemed to notice as well. He placed a hand on his hip, tilting his head in feigned curiosity. "Still, it must be difficult. I mean, with Epos attacking so frequently, I imagine resources are scarce. We’d love to see the extent of the damage and maybe even offer some additional assistance. Anything we can do to help, really!"

Pytha’s expression remained perfectly composed, but there was a flicker—so quick it was almost imperceptible. "Your concern is noted," she said smoothly. "However, we have matters under control. Your presence is appreciated, but unnecessary."

Lies.

You didn’t react, keeping your face as unreadable as hers. But inwardly, you knew that response confirmed your suspicions. If Haldak truly had matters under control, then why did it still look like a war zone? Why did the citizens carry such hollow expressions? And more importantly, why did Pytha seem so intent on keeping outsiders at a distance?

Phainon laughed softly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, we’re already here, so might as well take a look around, right? I mean, it’d be a waste if we didn’t at least check out the damages."

Pytha’s golden eyes locked onto his, unreadable as ever. Then, after a pause, she nodded. "Very well," she said. "I will have someone escort you."

You exchanged a glance with Castorice. The game had officially begun. . . . . .

Pytha’s agreement was clipped and controlled, her golden eyes giving nothing away. Still, you could sense the underlying reluctance in her tone, as if she were carefully weighing the risk of allowing you further into Haldak’s depths. She turned to one of her attendants—a stern-looking man in a navy officer’s coat—and gave a curt nod. “Have our guests escorted through the city. Ensure they see what is necessary.”

Her words were precise. Necessary.

Which meant she planned on controlling exactly what you saw.

You kept your expression neutral, hiding the flicker of intrigue that sparked in your mind. She was cautious, but she had no choice but to comply. You, Phainon, and Castorice had already established yourselves as investigators with legitimate interest in Haldak’s situation. To outright refuse assistance would be far more suspicious than begrudgingly accepting it.

Phainon, ever the friendly face, simply grinned, either oblivious to—or purposefully ignoring—the tension in Pytha’s voice. “Ah, we appreciate the hospitality, Chief Minister! It’s good to know that despite all the hardships, Haldak still has capable leadership.” His tone was light, almost teasing, but you knew better. That was Phainon’s way of pushing buttons—testing the waters while keeping up the façade of casual conversation.

Pytha merely inclined her head. “We do what we must,” she replied smoothly before turning on her heel. “I will attend to my duties. I trust my men will show you everything you need.”

With that, she walked away, her coat billowing behind her, back straight, posture stiff. Every step she took was deliberate, as if ensuring that she remained untouchable.

You exhaled slowly, watching her disappear into the ruined city hall.

“She’s hiding something,” you murmured under your breath.

Phainon hummed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he rocked on his heels. “Obviously.” His voice was lighthearted, but his sharp golden eyes flickered with something keen. “She didn’t even try to make it seem like she needed help. It’s like she wants us to pack up and leave.”

Castorice gently clasped her hands together, her expression as serene as ever. “That means we are on the right path.”

A gust of wind swept through the streets, carrying the scent of damp earth and lingering smoke. Around you, Haldak’s citizens went about their day with practiced exhaustion, their shoulders hunched, their eyes dulled by constant fear. The closer you looked, the clearer it became—this was not a city being properly maintained.

This was a city barely surviving.

The appointed escort cleared his throat, bringing your attention back to him. “If you would follow me,” he said stiffly, turning on his heel without waiting for a response.

You exchanged a glance with Phainon and Castorice before trailing behind him, careful to keep up your act. You were here under the pretense of assessing Epos’s destruction. Pytha couldn’t know just how much you already suspected her.

Yet.

The walk through Haldak was silent, save for the distant echoes of life in a crumbling city. Children peeked from behind half-broken doors, eyes wide and curious but never stepping out too far. Soldiers—likely hired mercenaries, given their mismatched armor—stood at street corners, their hands resting on their weapons, eyes constantly scanning for threats.

The war wasn’t just outside the border.

It was inside Haldak too.

“This place is worse off than the reports mentioned,” Phainon mused, his voice carrying a casual air, though you knew he was making mental notes. “Almost feels like they don’t even have the resources to rebuild.”

The escort stiffened slightly but kept walking. “We do what we can,” he replied curtly.

Phainon merely smiled. “Of course, of course.”

Your eyes flickered over to Castorice, who was gazing at the crumbling buildings with an unreadable expression. To the untrained eye, she looked like a delicate flower in a battlefield, gentle and untouched. But you knew better. She was observing everything, memorizing every detail in that quiet, lethal way of hers.

She caught your gaze and smiled, soft and warm as ever.

It was comforting.

But you both knew there was a storm brewing beneath all this.

Your escort finally stopped in front of what seemed to be a temporary command post—a large, reinforced tent set up in the middle of a clearing where soldiers and medics moved in and out, tending to the wounded. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and blood.

“This is where we coordinate defense efforts,” the escort explained. “You will see the extent of Epos’s destruction here.”

You glanced at Phainon and Castorice before stepping inside. . . . . .

The moment the guards left, their boots crunching against the rubble outside, you let out a quiet breath. Their presence had been suffocating—watching, listening, waiting for even the slightest slip-up. But now that they were gone, the real work could begin.

You turned to Phainon, voice low but firm. “Find the restricted area. Look for the unnoticed trucks—where they’re going, what route they take. There’s a location not officially recorded on any of Haldak’s logistics logs, which means either the military is hiding something, or…” Your eyes darkened. “Pytha is a traitor.”

Phainon’s usual carefree smile faltered just a little, a sharp glint flashing in his cerulean eyes. He wasn’t the type to take things seriously often, but he was intelligent—perhaps more so than most gave him credit for. And when he got serious, things moved fast.

“You got it,” he said easily, his grin returning, but there was something almost electric in the air around him now. “I’ll poke around, make some friends, maybe even get a free ride on one of those trucks.”

“Don’t get caught.”

Phainon placed a hand on his chest, feigning deep offense. “Me? Caught? I’m wounded, [Name]. Deeply.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly. “Just go already.”

With a wink, Phainon slipped out of the tent, his steps light, his figure disappearing into the ruins as if he had never been there.

Now, it was just you and Castorice.

The short silver-haired woman stood by your side, her usual soft expression never once slipping. But you knew her well enough by now to understand that her mind was already working, analyzing every detail, every possibility.

“The forbidden area,” she mused, voice quiet but carrying weight. “We should see the destruction ourselves. There is always more truth in ruins than in words.”

You nodded. “If Pytha is hiding something, then she wouldn’t risk exposing it in an area already in plain sight. The real damage, the real danger, is always buried beneath the surface.”

Castorice let out a soft hum, stepping forward, her long, elegant strides carrying her through the makeshift command post with a grace that made her look almost out of place in such a war-torn city.

You followed, your pace steady.

Neither of you spoke much as you moved through the remnants of Haldak. The closer you got to the forbidden area, the more destruction became apparent. Buildings weren’t just damaged—they were obliterated. Entire structures had collapsed in on themselves, reduced to nothing more than charred skeletons. The scent of burnt stone and decay lingered in the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood.

This wasn’t just the result of war.

This was erasure.

The people of Haldak had cleaned up the outskirts, rebuilt what they could, but here—no one had even tried to salvage anything. It was as if this place had been abandoned on purpose.

Castorice stopped in the middle of the street, tilting her head as if listening to something only she could hear. “There are no bodies.”

You frowned. “…What?”

She turned to you, her eyes calm yet piercing. “For a place that has suffered so much damage, there are no remains. No corpses, no bones, no personal belongings left behind. As if everything that existed here before has been removed.”

Your fingers twitched. You hadn’t noticed it at first, too focused on the destruction itself, but now that Castorice pointed it out…

She was right.

This wasn’t a battlefield.

It was a cover-up.

Your jaw clenched. “Then we need to dig deeper.”

Your satellite phone vibrated in your coat pocket. The sound was barely audible over the wind howling through the ruined buildings, but you felt it instantly. Without hesitation, you pulled it out and pressed it to your ear.

“Phainon?”

“Yo, [Name].” His voice was lighthearted as always, but you could hear the underlying tension in it. “Got some good news and some bad news. Good news: I found the trucks. They’re tucked away in a secluded storage lot near the south border—just where you thought. Bad news? They’re not empty.”

Your grip on the phone tightened. “What do you mean?”

There was a pause, and then Phainon’s voice dropped to something far more serious. “There are people in them, [Name]. And they aren’t soldiers.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Civilians?

Everything clicked into place at once. The missing bodies. The complete erasure of evidence in the forbidden zone. The unregistered truck routes.

Pytha was hiding something.

“I’m coming,” you said immediately.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on—”

You didn’t listen to the rest. You crushed the satellite phone in your grip, the metal casing bending with a sharp snap as you threw it to the ground, the circuits sparking out. There was no time to waste, and if anyone was listening in, they wouldn’t be able to trace your call.

You turned to Castorice, who was already watching you with calm, yet alarmed eyes. “Phainon found the trucks. South border storage lot.”

She nodded once. “Go.”

You didn’t need any more confirmation. Without another word, you took off.

Your feet pounded against the broken streets of Haldak, weaving through the ruins with sharp, precise movements. You didn’t care if you were drawing attention—you needed to get to Phainon now.

The wind bit at your skin, dust whipping up around you as you pushed yourself faster, heart hammering against your ribs. The city blurred past you, shadows flickering at the edges of your vision as you reached the outskirts, where the storage lots lay hidden beneath layers of rusted metal and forgotten debris.

And then, finally, you saw him—Phainon, standing at the corner of a half-collapsed warehouse, his cerulean blue eyes glowing under the dimming sky. He was waiting.

And judging by the look on his face, you weren’t going to like what you were about to see. . . . . .

Your breath was still heavy as you reached Phainon, but there was no time to waste. His usual bright expression was absent—his lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes dark with something sharp and unsettling. He jerked his head toward the trucks without a word.

You stepped forward, hand reaching for the latch. The metal was cold under your fingers, rusted and worn from years of use. With a sharp pull, you yanked the truck door open.

And then you saw them.

People. Huddled together in the cramped, suffocating space. Men, women, even children—all dressed in ragged clothes, some with bandages wrapped around their limbs, others with hollowed eyes that barely registered your presence. Their faces were gaunt, pale under the dim lighting. Some flinched at the sudden exposure to the outside world, as if they had been in the dark for far too long.

They weren’t soldiers. They weren’t prisoners of war.

They were civilians.

Your stomach twisted violently as you stepped back, your brain working faster than your body could keep up. This—this wasn’t what you had expected.

You had thought Pytha was a traitor. You had assumed she was leaking military information to Epos, feeding them details about Kremnos’ army movements in exchange for money, intentionally letting the terrorists attack so she could benefit from the chaos.

But this?

This was so much worse.

These trucks weren’t heading to Kremnos. They weren’t being used to smuggle supplies or transport stolen weapons.

They were going straight to Epos.

Pytha wasn’t just betraying Kremnos—she was selling her own people.

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palm.

“She was never just a traitor,” you muttered, voice low and sharp. “She’s fucking inhumane.”

You turned to Phainon, whose usual carefree attitude was nowhere to be found. He was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction.

“She’s not just giving Epos information,” you continued, breath shaking with quiet rage. “She’s trading the human lives of her OWN STATE.”

Pytha wasn’t just selling out Kremnos for her own gain.

She was handing over her own people to the enemy.

For money.

For power.

For herself.

Your entire body tensed. The realization was suffocating, rage clawing its way up your throat. You had prepared yourself for corruption, for deceit, for betrayal—but not for this.

Pytha had sacrificed her own people for her own damn survival.

You exhaled sharply, forcing the bile down. You needed to move. You needed to think. . . . . You didn’t waste another second.

"Phainon, get the knots," you ordered, voice tight with urgency as you jumped into the truck. The stench of sweat, fear, and desperation filled the air, but you forced yourself to focus.

Phainon, despite his usual carefree nature, didn’t hesitate. He was already moving, his nimble fingers working through the ropes that bound the people together. Some of the knots were too tight, digging into their skin so deep that blood had dried around them. You cursed under your breath and pulled out your knife, slicing through the bindings with quick, precise movements.

The moment the first person was freed, they collapsed onto you, sobbing.

"T-Thank you… oh, thank you—"

"Save your breath," you cut in, though your tone wasn’t unkind. "We need to get you out of here first."

A child—barely six or seven—had tears streaking down his dirty face as he reached for your arm, his tiny fingers clinging to your sleeve. His lips trembled, but no sound came out.

You crouched down and gently untied the cloth that had been shoved into his mouth. The second it was gone, the boy gasped for air, his small chest rising and falling in sharp, panicked breaths.

"It’s okay," you said softly, despite the fury raging inside you. "You’re safe now."

A choked sob broke from one of the women as Phainon freed her hands. "We—We thought we were going to die," she whispered, her voice hoarse from dehydration and fear. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with disbelief, as if she couldn’t comprehend that this nightmare was over.

"Not today," Phainon grinned, his voice light, but you could see the storm brewing behind his dark, worried eyes. He was pissed. Just like you. But right now, these people needed reassurance, not anger.

One by one, you freed them all—men, women, and children who had been thrown into these trucks like cargo. Some of them cried, some collapsed in exhaustion, and some simply sat there, shaking, unable to process what had just happened.

But every single one of them looked at you and Phainon with nothing but gratitude.

"You saved us," a man rasped, his voice breaking. His wrists were bruised and raw from struggling against the ropes. His sunken eyes locked onto yours, filled with something between relief and disbelief. "If you hadn’t come…"

You didn’t let him finish. You already knew what he was going to say.

You clenched your jaw, forcing down the wave of fury threatening to explode. Now wasn’t the time to lose yourself to anger.

You turned to Phainon. "We need to get them out of here, Ill call Castorice here."

Phainon nodded, though his usual brightness was nowhere to be found. "And then?"

Your eyes darkened.

"Then," you said coldly, "we deal with Pytha."

You grabbed the second satellite phone from your coat pocket, clicking a hidden switch on the side that activated a secondary emergency line. It was weak, barely holding a connection, but enough. Enough to call her.

“Castorice,” you breathed the moment the call connected. “We have a situation.”

A brief silence. Then, her voice, calm yet sharpened like a blade. “Report.”

You wasted no time. “Pytha’s not just leaking information to Epos. She’s trading people. We found the trucks—packed with civilians. They were tied up and gagged, about to be sent straight into the hands of those bastards.” You glanced at the terrified people huddled around Phainon, some still shaking, some silently crying. Your grip on the phone tightened. “We need backup. Now.”

A short pause. Then, in that same gentle yet terrifyingly firm tone, Castorice responded, “Location?”

Phainon, overhearing the call, tapped your shoulder. “We’re near the supply route, northeast of the main transport hub. Abandoned storage area—probably one of her secret drop points.”

You relayed the information, and Castorice wasted no time. “I’m on my way. I’ll call for discreet transport to take them back home.” A beat. Then, softer, “Stay with them. Keep them calm.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Understood.”

The line cut, and you pocketed the broken phone.

Phainon let out a low whistle. “Man… she didn’t even hesitate. Think she's gonna scare the people.”

You scoffed. “When is Castorice not scary?”

He chuckled but quickly sobered up, glancing at the scared civilians. “Alright, guys,” he clapped his hands, forcing some energy into his voice to lighten the atmosphere. “Help’s on the way. We’re getting you all out of here.”

A few of them nodded, still dazed, but some had regained enough strength to stand. You moved among them, checking for injuries, offering quiet reassurances.

Minutes passed like hours, but finally—finally—you heard it.

Engines.

A fleet of unmarked vehicles rolled up the dirt path, stopping just shy of the truck’s rear. From the lead vehicle, Castorice stepped out, her usual gentle smile in place, to comfort the hostages in the truck—but her eyes? Ice-cold.

She assessed the situation in an instant, nodding once. “Let’s get them home.” . . . . The moment the last civilian was safely loaded into the transport vehicles, you turned on your heel, dusting off your jacket as you marched toward the road.

Phainon, ever the energetic fool, caught on quickly. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—where are you going?” He jogged up beside you, falling into step, though his usual easygoing expression had hardened. “We should regroup, come up with a plan. You do remember we’re in enemy territory, right?”

You didn’t stop walking. “I’m going to Pytha’s headquarters.”

Phainon blinked, then let out a dramatic groan. “Oh, great. Of course you are. Because throwing yourself straight into the hornet’s nest sounds like an amazing idea.” He threw his hands up. “You’re so rational.”

“I’m dealing with her.” Your voice was flat, final.

Castorice, who had just finished overseeing the civilians’ departure, turned at your words. Her expression remained as serene as ever, but her eyes flickered with understanding. “You intend to confront her alone?”

“Yes,” you said, adjusting the collar of your coat. “She’s mine.”

Phainon groaned again, rubbing his temples. “I knew you were going to say that.”

Castorice, however, merely exhaled, folding her hands in front of her. “We should move carefully,” she advised. “Pytha is dangerous. If she’s been selling out her own people, then she’s desperate. And desperate people are unpredictable.”

You looked at her, your jaw tightening. “I know.”

A beat of silence. Then, she smiled—a soft, knowing thing. “I won’t stop you.”

Phainon nearly choked. “I—what?!”

Castorice turned to him. “She won’t be swayed. And truthfully, she’s the most suited for this.” She then glanced back at you, her voice carrying something unspoken. “But don’t die.”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Phainon ran a hand through his hair, groaning. “I hate this plan. This is a terrible plan.” He crossed his arms. “So, obviously, I’m coming with you.”

You raised a brow. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

You shot him a glare. “Phainon—”

“Listen, genius, if you think I’m just gonna let you go in there alone and get your ass handed to you by some money-hungry traitor—” He pointed at himself. “—you clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

You opened your mouth, but Castorice cut in first. “Both of you should go.”

You turned to her, incredulous. “Seriously?”

She tilted her head slightly, her ever-present smile unwavering. “Consider it a safety measure. And,” she added lightly, “you may need someone to carry your body out if things go south.”

Phainon smirked. “See? She gets it.”

You groaned. “Fine. Whatever.” You started toward the road. “Let’s just go.” . . . . . The moment you and Phainon broke into a sprint, the ruined streets of Haldak blurred around you, your breath sharp and controlled as your boots pounded against the cracked pavement. Dust kicked up in your wake, the cold night air slicing through your skin, but you didn’t care. There was no time to waste. Pytha had to answer for this.

Beside you, Phainon matched your pace effortlessly, his usual carefree energy replaced with something razor-sharp. “Remind me again why we’re running full speed toward the fancy mansion of the traitorous minister?” he huffed, though there was no real complaint in his voice.

“Because the longer we take, the more time she has to cover her tracks,” you snapped, eyes locked ahead as the massive, opulent building came into view. Pytha’s headquarters stood tall and imposing, its pristine white marble exterior untouched by the destruction plaguing the rest of Haldak. The extravagant balconies, the golden crest above the entrance—it was almost laughable, the contrast between her world and the suffering just outside her doors.

Phainon let out a low whistle. “Y’know, I hate traitors, but damn, she’s got taste.”

You ignored him, pushing forward until you reached the grand entrance, the two armored guards flanking the doors stepping forward immediately. Their hands hovered over their weapons, eyes narrowing at the two of you.

“Halt. State your business,” one of them barked.

You straightened, not bothering to catch your breath as you pulled out your credentials and flashed them at the guards. “Investigation Unit. We’re here to speak with Minister Pytha.” Your voice was even, steady—an undeniable authority woven through your words.

The guards exchanged a glance, hesitation flickering across their faces. “The Minister isn’t expecting visitors at this hour.”

Phainon scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Oh, I’m sure she isn’t.” He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice. “But trust me, you’re gonna want to let us in before we start making a real scene.”

The guards stiffened. One of them spoke into a comm device, waiting a few beats before nodding. “You may enter. But surrender your weapons first.”

You met Phainon’s gaze briefly before unstrapping your sidearm and tossing it onto the tray they provided. Phainon followed suit, but not before dramatically sighing. “Y’know, it really hurts parting with my babies.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped past the guards as they opened the grand doors, revealing the lavish interior of Pytha’s headquarters. The golden chandeliers, the polished floors, the sheer luxury—it made your stomach turn.

Phainon let out a low chuckle beside you. “Let’s go meet our generous Minister, shall we?”

The tension in the air was suffocating as you stormed through the luxurious halls of Pytha’s headquarters, your steps unwavering, your heart pounding with fury. Phainon, despite his usual laid-back demeanor, was right beside you, matching your stride. But as you neared the grand double doors of Pytha’s private chambers, you abruptly stopped, spinning on your heel to face him.

“Stay out,” you ordered, voice cold and firm.

Phainon blinked at you, his easy-going grin faltering slightly. “Uh—what? Hey, come on, you know I—”

“I said, stay out.” Your tone left no room for argument.

For once, Phainon actually shut up, staring at you with something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before finally stepping back. “Fine, fine. Just… don’t do anything too crazy, alright?”

You ignored him.

You turned sharply and without hesitation, raised your foot—

BOOM.

The doors slammed open, the heavy wood crashing against the walls with a deafening bang. The force sent a gust of air through the grand bedroom, rattling the chandelier above. The sound of shattering porcelain filled the room as Pytha, seated at her ornate vanity, flinched violently, the teacup she had been holding slipping from her grasp.

She barely had a second to react before you grabbed her by the collar, yanking her up from her seat and slamming her back against the cold marble wall. The impact sent a framed painting crashing to the floor, shards of glass scattering across the plush carpet.

Pytha let out a strangled gasp, her carefully composed expression shattering as her hands scrambled to grab at your wrists. “W-What—?!”

You didn’t give her a chance to speak.

Your grip tightened around the fabric of her silk robe, your face just inches from hers. Your eyes—burning with unfiltered rage—bored into hers, searching, seething. “You,” you hissed, voice low and venomous, “were going to trade your own people.”

Pytha’s mouth opened and closed, her breath uneven, her usually pristine appearance unraveling before your eyes. “I-I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don’t.” Your voice was sharp enough to cut through steel. “Don’t you dare lie to me. We saw the trucks. We saw the people you were sending to Epos like they were nothing more than cargo.”

Pytha’s chest heaved as her mind scrambled for a way out, for a way to deny the undeniable. Her usual smooth, eloquent words failed her.

You leaned in even closer, pressing her further into the wall. Your fingers twitched with the sheer restraint it took to not strike her. “You weren’t just feeding Epos information,” you spat, your breath hot against her trembling face. “You were selling your own citizens. Sending them off to die for your own greedy, pathetic self.”

Pytha let out a shaky breath, her once-poised demeanor crumbling. “Y-You don’t understand…”

You let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “Oh, trust me,” you said, voice laced with cold fury, “I understand perfectly.”

Her lips parted, as if about to spew another weak excuse—

But you weren’t here to listen. Pytha's breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to regain her composure, but you could see the panic creeping into her eyes. Still, even with her back pressed against the cold marble, she had the audacity to lift her chin, feigning whatever dignity she thought she had left.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered, voice trembling yet still laced with that insufferable arrogance. “It was for the good of our country—”

CRACK.

Your fist slammed into her face before she could finish her pathetic excuse, sending her head snapping to the side. The sound of bone meeting flesh echoed through the opulent room, and Pytha let out a choked gasp, her knees nearly buckling beneath her. Blood dripped from her split lip, staining her pristine silk robe.

Your entire body trembled with rage, your breath ragged as you glared down at her, fists clenched so tightly that your nails dug into your palms. The sheer disgust you felt for this woman made your stomach churn.

“Because of you,” you snarled, voice raw with unfiltered fury, “every time we got close to handling the fucking Epos terrorists, we were set back. Every single time we put our lives on the line, every time we bled, every time we fought—you were the reason it all went to waste.”

Pytha flinched, her hands gripping at the wall behind her like she could somehow sink into it and escape. But there was no escape.

Your breath came out in sharp, shaking exhales as you grabbed her by the throat, shoving her harder against the wall. “You told them everything. Every battle plan, every operation, every goddamn strategy—you handed it all to them like a fucking gift!”

Pytha whimpered, her hands clawing at your wrist, but you didn't care.

“And for what?! Money?! Power?!” Your voice boomed through the room, shaking with barely-contained rage. “You didn’t give a single damn about Kremnos or its people! You sold them out like livestock! You let innocent people—women, children, families—get slaughtered and enslaved because you wanted to line your own fucking pockets!”

Tears welled in Pytha’s eyes, her lips trembling as if she wanted to speak—wanted to defend herself, to justify the unjustifiable.

Your eyes burned as you stared at her in utter disgust.

“If you try to defend yourself one more time,” you growled, voice low, dangerous—lethal.

Pytha sucked in a breath, her lips parting—

“I will drag you on the floor and fucking TORTURE YOU ALIVE.”

Her mouth snapped shut.

Your grip tightened around her throat, pressing down just enough for her breath to hitch, for her eyes to widen with real, genuine terror.

“And after that?” Your lips curled into something feral—something vicious. “I’ll humiliate you publicly before feeding you off to piranhas.”

A strangled sound escaped her throat—half sob, half whimper.

You leaned in, voice dropping into a whisper so cold it made the air between you freeze.

“And trust me, you fucking bitch, I’ll make sure they eat you alive—slowly.”

She sobbed uncontrollably hoping for the mercy she damn well doesn't deserve.

Pytha’s breath hitched, her body trembling as she pressed herself further against the wall, trying to disappear into the marble. But you weren’t done.

Your patience had already been razed to the ground, burnt to ash. You had given her enough chances—enough time—but she just sat there, shaking, refusing to talk, refusing to pay for what she had done.

Your grip tightened around her collar.

“Fine,” you muttered, voice chillingly calm—too calm for the rage boiling inside you.

Before she could react, you yanked her forward and dragged her across the floor, her expensive silk robe tearing against the force. She gasped, fingers clawing at your wrist in a pitiful attempt to stop you, but your grip was unshakable.

She deserved this.

With a swift, brutal motion, you kicked open the window—glass shattered, the warm breeze of Haldak’s ruined city whooshing in. Below, the streets stretched far, too far, and the jagged stone floor of the courtyard loomed like the waiting jaws of death.

Pytha let out a scream as you shoved her forward, her body dangling over the edge. Only your grip on her collar kept her from plummeting.

“Let’s make something clear,” you hissed, staring down at her panicked, tear-streaked face. The fear in her eyes almost satisfied you, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

“You either talk, or you drop.”

She gasped, her legs kicking helplessly in the air, hands clawing at your wrist. “P-Please—”

Your grip loosened just slightly, making her scream again.

“Oh?” You tilted your head, a mockery of amusement in your voice. “Afraid?”

Pytha sobbed, body shaking violently.

“Shame. You weren’t afraid when you were trading your own people like cattle.”

Her nails dug into your arm, desperate, weak—she was trying to hold onto you when she had never spared a single thought for the people she had betrayed.

“I— I didn’t—”

Your grip loosened again.

Another scream.

“You have three seconds, Pytha.”

“N-No, please—!”

“One.”

She gasped. “T-They forced me—”

“Two.”

Her face paled. “I swear— I can give you—”

“Three.”

And then—

“[NAME], stop!”

Phainon’s voice rang out, hurried footsteps pounding into the room.

You didn’t even look at him.

“Get out.” Your voice was like a blade cutting through the air, sharp, cold, unwavering.

Phainon hesitated, breathless, eyes wide as he took in the scene—Pytha’s dangling form, the rage seething in your eyes, the clear, unshakable intent to drop her if she didn’t talk.

“[Name],” Phainon stepped forward, hands raised slightly in a slow, cautious movement, like he was approaching a wild animal. “Just… just breathe, okay? I know you’re pissed—”

You snapped your glare toward him, sharp and lethal.

“Stay. Out of this.”

Phainon froze.

Something flickered in his eyes—concern, hesitation—but he didn’t move.

Good.

Your attention snapped back to Pytha, whose sobs had turned into choked gasps, her body dangling helplessly over the abyss.

“You’re running out of time, Pytha,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly. “And you’re making this way too easy for me.”

A cruel smirk tugged at your lips.

“You know… it’d be real simple to frame this as an accident.”

Pytha whimpered.

“Or even a pathetic suicide.” You sighed, feigning disappointment. “Poor Pytha… so wracked with guilt over her crimes that she took her own life.”

Her breath hitched—she knew. She knew you weren’t bluffing.