#lighter zenless zone zero

[dooberific]

❝ 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘰𝘰? ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

lighter x afab!reader (separate)

genre: domestic, kinda crack fic esque???, suggestive content (mdni)

summary: you ask you beloved one of the most pressing questions of your relationship

wc: 1.8k

harumasa

The universe had to be testing him right now, as he simply couldn’t fathom any other way that this could be happening.

His day was way too long, what was supposed to be a simple collaboration between the HIA and Section 6 to test new hypersensitive VR combat training equipment ended in nothing short of an IT nightmare with the revelation that hacker Null_Face had tampered with their systems. After spending what felt like hours in a virtual simulation that felt more like an apocalyptic fever dream, then spending another few hours being poked and prodded by H.A.N.D’s medical team to ensure everyone was still of sound mind and body, he was finally released to trudge home for the day and back to your loving arms.

He wanted to cry when he kicked his sneakers off at the door, the smell of fried rice in the air and the image of you standing in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, smiling like the angelic being you were as you gave him a welcome home kiss. His karmic debt had been paid, the balance of the world was correcting, and he was off work for the next few hours. All was well with the world, right up until the moment you snuggled up so cutely beside him on the couch to watch a movie, turning to prop your chin on his shoulder as you stared up at him.

“Asaba?”

“Yeah, baby?” He said effortlessly, head turning to peck you on the lips as you beamed up at him.

“Would you still love me if I was a bangboo?”

You may as well have snapped his precious bow in half for how dramatically he reacted, his body stiffening as his face went stony. Maybe somewhere in his brief recollection of his day to you as he hung over your shoulder while you cooked he conveniently forgot to tell you that they VR warped him into a bangboo body, not a difficult thing to forget as he was both traumatized from the feeling of stubby, helpless limbs and preoccupied with the way you squirmed in his arms as he pressed sloppy kisses all over the side of your neck.

But you didn’t know that. What you did know was that you were now staring into the most blank and desolated expression you had ever seen grace his face.

You forced a short laugh, pointing at him accusingly as he snapped back from his nightmarish recollection of the full emasculation of his pride for the day.

“Oh, I see how it is.” You smacked the back of your hand against his chest as you intentionally scooted to the far end of the couch. “You think I would make an ugly bangboo!”

“(Y/n), baby, I never said that!” He fussed, reaching to grab your hand just for you to swat him away with a maliciously sly expression, quickly hopping to your feet as you made a stance dramatic enough to rival his own exaggerated impressions.

“You’re gonna regret not telling me you would love me if I was bangboo, Asaba Harumasa!” You declared before thrusting your thumb into your chest, “Cause I’m about to go rearrange your entire medicine cabinet.”

He shot up to his feet, the lethargy of the day vanishing in the blink of an eye at threat of you upending his perfect (to him) system of organization. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me, bitch!” Was the final declaration as you zipped around the corner of the couch in a mad dash to prove your point. It was times like this that you really hated that he was a well trained hollow-exploring, ethereal-fighting machine, because it made chases all the more terrifying as you heard the telltale thump! of his feet hitting the floor again as he cleared the couch in a single jump, in hot pursuit.

Your hands barely grazed the door handle before you let out a shriek, his arms wrapping around your midsection before your feet left the floor entirely, body now upended and dangling where he tossed you over his shoulder. You kicked your feet helplessly for a moment, your shrieks devolving into a fit of laughter as his hand connected firmly with your ass.

“This is not fair, Asaba!” You huffed out, fisting the back of his work shirt.

“Who said anything about fair?” He countered, jostling you on his shoulder once for good measure as you squirmed before he marched you right past the bathroom and into his room. “You wanted to play dirty, so let’s play dirty.” He said as he flipped you unceremoniously onto his unmade bed, laughing at the little “oof!” you made before you immediately attempted to wrestle him away with a devious little grin.

He pinned your hands with ease, resting his full weight on you in an even more irritating manner as he leaned in for a kiss, his hands releasing your wrists in favor of sliding up under the hem of your shirt as you keened into lips, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth as you turned to putty beneath him.

“You,” he began breathlessly as he broke away, nibbling at your glossy lower lip as you whimpered, “need to stop jumping to conclusions. Who ever said I would stop loving you?”

lighter

“What’d ya say, babe?” He called over his shoulder, the roar of the wind and his motorcycle having carried away the sweet tone of your voice from where you sat behind him, arms secured snugly around his waist as you raced across the flat expanse of the Outer Ring.

It was the first time you both were free in the past few weeks, his work for the Sons of Calydon having kept him away even as your schedule at one of the pump stations in the Old Oil Field opened up. Dinner in Blazewood and a cruise through the desert back to your place was always a nice little treat, your body warm against his back as your eyes danced across the dunes and hollows that decorated your home territory.

You propped your chin against his shoulder, wind whipping your hair wildly around your face. “I’ll tell you when we pull over!” You half-yelled over the wind, his head tilting just enough for you to catch that sly look in his pretty eyes that made your stomach flip as one of his hands squeezed the fat of your thigh coyly.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Maybe you should have tried to ask again before you got back, timing would have been a little more prime than when you were straddling his lap on your dusty couch, hands fisted into his hair as he licked into your hot mouth like a man starved of affection, calloused hands directing your hips to grind against his own as you both moaned like a couple bitches in heat.

His zeal shouldn't have surprised you, after all it was kinda your fault that you ended up here. You knew better than anyone how much he loved being needed, wanted even, and had absentmindedly played it up beautifully all evening. Asking him first to help you change a part on your car and later dismissing another man’s attempts at flirting with you over a can of nitro fuel by waltzing right over to your dear Champion and slinging a leg over his lap, throwing your arms around his neck and placing a searing kiss against his lips as you declared yourself taken?

He would never consider himself one for public displays of affection, but he couldn’t deny that something about you openly proclaiming yourself his had him itching to get you alone.

You broke from the sloppy makeout, his hands drifting up your spine to push you right back into his waiting grasp impatiently before you planted your palm against his chest, shoving him back into the couch as you righted yourself.

“I’ve got a question for you.” You drawled, earning a hum of acknowledgment from him which you doubted to be him actually listening considering the glazed over expression in his eyes and the way he still fiddled with the button on your shorts.

“Lighter, I’m serious!”

“Alright,” his hands raised in faux defeat as he let his head hang back against the couch. “I’m all ears, what is this burning question ya got?”

It was your turn to grin now. “Would you,” you started as your fingers tracing his clavicle teasingly as you leaned in, now you were certain you had his undivided attention because his eyes were firmly fixed on your swollen lips.

“Still love me if I was a bangboo?”

He was silent for a beat, brow furrowing momentarily in a way you could only describe as cute before he gave you the best treat of your evening. His chest rumbled under your hands, one of his own raising quickly to try and smother the laugh that burned through his throat.

“This is a serious question!” You quickly asserted, only for him to fully turn his face away from you all the more entertained at your disgrace at his laughter. It took one inhale before you knew you had him good, getting another little glimpse at your “big bad champion” who snorted and teared when he laughed hard enough as you devolved right alongside him.

He sucked in a shaky breath, wiping at the corner of his eyes as he relaxed beneath you, hands rubbing little circles against your hips as he stared you down with the warmest look in his eyes. “Would I still love you if you were a bangboo, huh? Yeah, I think so, if you kept that fiery personality ya got, but I sure would miss a lot of things about my baby.”

“Is that so?” You hummed, fingers lacing behind his neck as your twirled the hair at his nape, enjoying the empowering feeling of having him shiver under your touch.

“Mhm. Like your arms that are just long enough to wrap around me when I wanna take you for a ride, or all that hair of yours that blows in my face when you decide it’s your turn to drive, can’t forget these pretty thighs of yours that you try and smother me with when—,”

“Lighter.” You warn, but it falls on deaf ears.

“And I would definitely miss a few other things about you if you know what I mean.” As if you hadn’t caught on enough he ground his hips up into your ass for good measure as you swatted his chest.

“Lighter Lorenz, stop being such a tease!”

“Oh, I’m the tease?”

Before you could respond he had already flipped you off his lap and onto your back against the couch, prizing your legs apart to settle between them as he leaned in, lips brushing just against yours as he spoke.

“Well if that’s what you want, who am I to keep it from ya?”

Rey 2024

[hazymoonlinh]

Lighter x Reader

Lost n Found

Part1

(Just love this place a lot muehehehe)

Don’t mind the pic

(So the mc was lost in the hollow and having a meltdown after her companions didn’t survive)

The ground beneath you felt cold, the cracked earth pressing into your palms as you slumped against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Your body ached all over—deep, sharp pains where the Ethereals had struck, but it was nothing compared to the heavy emptiness sitting in your chest.

Again, you’re the only one left.

You didn’t even flinch when you heard his footsteps pounding against the hollowed-out ground, his voice slicing through the ringing in your ears.

“There you are!”

Lighter’s voice was hoarse, frantic, raw in a way you hadn’t heard before. You knew he’d find you eventually. He always did. It should’ve mattered. But it didn’t. Not anymore.

You didn’t look up as he stumbled to a halt in front of you, his breath ragged, like he’d been running for days. “Hey. Hey!” He crouched down, trying to meet your eyes, but you kept staring at the ground—at the blood smearing the dirt under your fingertips.

“You’re hurt. Come on, we need to get you out of here—”

“Why am I still alive?”

Your voice broke through his words, soft but sharp enough to make him freeze. He blinked down at you, as though unsure if he’d heard you right.

“…What did you just say?”

You laughed—short, hollow, bitter. It escaped your lips like a cough, a broken thing you couldn’t quite contain. “I fought them. I fought, Lighter. But I shouldn’t have. I should’ve just let it happen. I should’ve just let them take me.”

Lighter’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he didn’t say a word. Then:

“Don’t.”

His voice was low, tight, a warning. But you ignored him.

“I mean, look at me,” you continued, a shaky, almost manic edge creeping into your voice as you gestured weakly to yourself—your torn clothes, the blood staining your skin, the bruises blooming across your arms. “I’m a mess. I can barely stand. I feel like hell, and—”

You cut yourself off with another bitter laugh, your head falling back against the wall. “At least I feel something, though. That’s gotta count for something, right? Pain’s better than nothing. It’s better than the emptiness.”

“Stop it.” Lighter’s voice cracked this time, and you finally looked up at him.

He was staring at you like he didn’t recognize you, his hands trembling at his sides. His green irises burned with something wild, desperate—something you’d never seen in him before.

“Why?” you shot back, your voice rising. “Why should I stop? Why do you care so much, Lighter? Why am I still here? What’s the point of any of this?”

“Because you’re alive!” he snapped, the words exploding from him like he couldn’t hold them back anymore.

Your chest heaved, your fingers curling into the dirt beneath you as you shook your head, a humorless smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah? And for what? I didn’t ask to be saved. I didn’t ask for this life—for this never-ending fight, for this pain that just keeps coming. I didn’t—”

“Stop!” Lighter’s voice thundered through the air, loud enough to cut you off. He grabbed your shoulders suddenly, shaking you just enough to make your head snap up. His hands were firm, his grip almost bruising, but his eyes—those red-ringed eyes—were wide, frantic, pleading.

“You think this is easy for me?” he hissed, his voice rough, unsteady. “You think I haven’t been there? You think I don’t know what it’s like to wake up and wish you hadn’t? To stare down that abyss and want to let it take you?”

You stared at him, stunned, as the cracks in his voice became impossible to ignore.

“I’ve been where you are,” he said, quieter this time. His hands loosened their grip on your shoulders, but they didn’t let go. “I’ve felt it. That weight—the one that keeps pushing you down until you can’t breathe anymore. I know. But you…” He shook his head, swallowing hard. “You don’t get to give up. Not while I’m still here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your lips trembling as you looked away. “You don’t understand—”

“I do,” Lighter cut you off, his voice breaking. He exhaled sharply, letting his hands fall away from your shoulders before running them through his disheveled black-green hair. He looked like he was falling apart right in front of you, trying to hold himself together with shaking hands and broken words.

“I do understand. But you wanna know the difference?” he asked bitterly, dropping to sit in front of you, his knees scraping against the dirt. “I kept fighting. I didn’t think I’d make it out. I didn’t even want to. But I’m still here, and you know why? Because there were people who didn’t give up on me—even when I wanted to give up on myself.”

Your chest tightened painfully, your vision blurring with tears you didn’t want to shed. “Lighter…”

“Don’t you dare tell me your life doesn’t matter,” he said fiercely, his red pupils locking onto you like they were holding you in place. “Don’t you dare. Because it matters to me. You matter to me. And if you think I’m gonna let you slip away just because you think you’re too far gone—”

He broke off, his voice trembling as he looked away, fists clenching at his sides. For a moment, he couldn’t even speak. When he finally looked back at you, his eyes were glassy behind the sunglasses , the sharp edges of his anger softened by something far more painful.

“…I can’t lose you too.”

You choked on a sob, covering your face with your hands as the tears finally spilled over. The pain, the exhaustion, the hopelessness—it all crashed over you like a wave, pulling you under.

The silence that followed your words was sharp, cutting through the air like broken glass. You let out a hollow, humorless laugh, the sound scraping against your throat as you stared at him through blurred vision.

“It’s funny,” you murmured, voice thin, trembling, “because I’m the one who’s supposed to be screaming in despair… and yet…” Your head tilted back against the wall as you looked at him, a ghost of a smile pulling at your cracked lips. “Here you are, doing it in my place.”

Lighter froze. The way you said it—so tired, so empty—made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain. You were mocking yourself, mocking him, and yet there was nothing playful about it.

He clenched his jaw, his breathing sharp and uneven as he stared at you. The red in his pupils flared faintly, like embers struggling to reignite. “You think this is funny?” he said, his voice low and strained, trembling with something he was barely holding back.

You shrugged weakly, the motion barely there. “It’s all kind of ridiculous, don’t you think? Me, like this. You, still trying.” You laughed again—a breathless, broken sound. “I don’t even know what you’re fighting for anymore, Lighter.”

“For you,” he snapped, his voice raw, the words tearing from him before he could stop them.

Your mocking smile faltered, your expression slipping as you stared at him. He was breathing hard, his shoulders shaking, his fists trembling at his sides.

“I’m fighting for you, damn it,” Lighter repeated, softer this time, but no less intense. He ran a hand roughly through his hair, his eyes never leaving yours. “You think I’m screaming in your place? Fine. I’ll scream. I’ll yell. I’ll fight as much as it takes, because you won’t. Because you can’t. But that’s why I’m here. That’s why I care.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Lighter dropped to his knees in front of you again, closer this time, his face inches from yours.

“I’ll be the one to pull you back,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less desperate. “I don’t care if you mock me for it. I don’t care if you think it’s stupid or pointless. But you need to understand something—”

His hand reached out hesitantly, trembling before it brushed against your cheek, so light it was barely a touch. “You’re not alone. Not anymore. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

Your eyes stung, your chest tightening painfully as his words washed over you. You wanted to argue, to push him away, to tell him he didn’t understand. But the look on his face—the raw, unguarded way he looked at you—stopped you cold.

Lighter exhaled sharply, his thumb brushing against the tear that slipped down your cheek. “Let me scream in your place. Let me fight. Let me carry the weight until you can stand on your own again. Just…” His voice cracked as his hand dropped away. “Don’t you dare leave me here alone.”

You looked at him, your lips parting as if to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you let out another broken laugh, softer this time, as you wiped your eyes with a shaking hand.

“You’re so stubborn,” you muttered weakly.

Lighter huffed out a breath, his lips tugging into a faint, humorless smile. “Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”

The silence that followed was different—no longer sharp and heavy, but fragile, like glass balanced on the edge of a table. You didn’t know if you believed him, if you believed anything would get better.

The world around you had begun to blur—sounds fading into distant echoes, shapes losing their edges until they became nothing but hazy smears of light and shadow. Your body felt heavy, unbearably so, as though the earth itself was pulling you down. The warmth of blood seeping through your clothes spread like ink in water, but you barely registered it.

All you could see, all you could focus on, was Lighter’s face hovering above you.

His usually steady, cool demeanor had shattered completely. Hair clung to his forehead, disheveled and damp with sweat, and his sunglasses were gone, revealing the vibrant red of his pupils that burned with raw panic.

“Stay with me,” he choked out, his voice rough, thick with desperation. “Come on, sweetheart, stay with me.”

You wanted to respond, to say something—anything—to ease that look on his face. But your lips wouldn’t move, your voice wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at him through heavy-lidded eyes, watching the way his hands trembled as they pressed against your wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

“This isn’t funny anymore, damn it,” he muttered, his voice cracking as he leaned closer, his breath uneven. “You’re not leaving me. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

You managed a weak smile—a barely there tug at the corner of your mouth—as if to mock him. It was all you could offer, a bittersweet gesture, as the edges of your vision darkened further.

“Please…”

His voice broke on that single word, and you felt his hands press harder, as if trying to keep you tethered to him, to this place.

You could still see him—just barely. His eyes, usually sharp and unwavering, now shimmered with something raw and pleading. His gaze was locked on yours, as though his sheer willpower alone could hold you here.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t you dare—”

But his words slipped away, dissolving into the background noise as everything around you faded to black.

The last thing you saw was him—his worried, desperate gaze burning into yours. The last thing you heard was the sound of his voice, fractured and trembling, as he screamed your name.

And then there was nothing.

_____

(I genuinely was having a broke down writing this. Life sucks btw)

[luminique]

lighter is a loser. idc i said what i said. behind all the cool nicknames and stylish glasses is someone who looks at you with so much love in his eyes.

it’s unfair that he is a fire attribute because he always ends up lighting a little bit of his clothes or hair on fire when he gets flustered by you. something about seeing you smile, excitedly laughing to him about your day, has him pushing his sunglasses up a little more and staring off to the side. the rest of the sons of calydon can CLEARLY see right through him though. they knew the ominous undefeated champion had a soft spot but seeing him loosen his red scarf and clear his throat was when they knew he was head over heels for you.

he doesn’t have the best memory but even he’d remember small details about you. what drink you’d prefer, which sunglasses he wore had you blushing like crazy. his love for you is quiet on the outside but deep down, it’s a blazing fire that cannot be contained.

[muffywaifu]

drew this lil guy for a contest on hoyolab, it was actually kind of fun

[wormdevourer]

GUYS IM CRYING

ok so

I was doing Lighter’s trust event and we were hanging out by that cactus in Blazewood

and there’s a tire swing on it

so this happened

so then

he started saying that there’s a legend where all the cacti in blazewood are grown when someone dies

like when someone dies they turn into one

and he said

if I was a cactus I’d poke you to remind you I was there (😭)

and so I said “don’t die”

and he said “everyone dies eventually,,”

AND THEN HE SAID THIS

I’M SOBBING HELP ME??

AND THEN HE HITS ME WITH THIS

LIKE SIR

THIS IS NOT CHILL I’M IN TEARS 😭😭😭

(more images from his hangout)

BUT BRO?? I’M CRYING??

[n4gichan]

Took me too long to draw him 😭

[tabbysdumb]

[sandwichpuppy]

my boyfriend suggested this. original image under the cut

(please don't tag as ship. idgaf if you ship it but i don't. and this is my post. so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

[261010ch1]

first post ever yappy

come home daddy lighter....

[palkia-dialga]

Anton and Lighter having a bro moment after the quest V was awesome, like they did a fist bumping and looked like bros

[vladivap]

I still can't believe…

I’ve done it.

Thanks to Lighter for motivating me🫶🏻

[sneevl13t]

he is taking over my mind

ref underneath ↓

chonk

[hazymoonlinh]

Lost n Found

Lighter x reader

Part2

This is fking long

(Inspiration went crazy lmao)

The first thing you felt when you drifted back to consciousness was pain—sharp and relentless, like fire licking through every nerve in your body. It weighed you down, made your limbs feel like lead, and each shallow breath brought another wave of agony. For a moment, you wondered if this was hell, and if so, it was far more mundane than you imagined.

You cracked your eyes open, vision blurring, and darted them around the room. A hospital. The faint beeping of machines echoed softly, the sterile scent of antiseptic stinging your nose. You shifted slightly, only to regret it immediately when pain jolted through you.

I’m still alive.

A bitter thought, but you barely had the strength to hold onto it before something else caught your attention—someone else.

Slumped beside your bed, head resting heavily on his crossed arms, was Lighter Lorenz. The sight startled you—messy dark green hair falling carelessly over his face, his red scarf crumpled on the floor as if he’d thrown it off without care. He was completely still, his breathing deep but strained, like he hadn’t been fully at peace even in his sleep.

The faintest of groans slipped from your throat as you tried to move again, and that was all it took.

“—Hey.”

The chair scraped loudly as Lighter jolted upright, his eyes wide, raw with disbelief as he stared at you. For a moment, he froze, like he thought you were a figment of his imagination. Then his breath hitched, and you swore you saw his whole body sag in relief.

“You’re—” He choked on his words, a shaky, disbelieving laugh escaping him. “You’re awake.”

You barely managed a sound, a quiet hum that could’ve been confirmation or just pain. Even that effort had you wincing, but it didn’t matter. Lighter had already pushed himself closer, nearly trembling as he looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, his hands hovering near yours as if he didn’t know whether he could touch you. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?”

You blinked slowly, your gaze drifting toward him, and with what little strength you had, you moved your hand—barely lifting it from the bed—just enough to brush weakly against his. A feeble attempt, but you could feel his hand instantly catch yours, holding it carefully like it might shatter.

His grip trembled.

“Hey, don’t…” he whispered, his voice rough, pleading. “Don’t do that—don’t move, don’t—” His words cut off as if his throat closed around them.

You felt his hands shift, hesitating for only a second before he brought your limp fingers up, gently pressing them to his face. His skin was warm, rough with faint stubble, but you felt how his breath hitched against your palm, like the reality of your touch had broken something in him.

“You’re here,” he whispered, more to himself than you, eyes squeezing shut.

You stared weakly at him, trying to focus on his expression through the haze of exhaustion. His brows were furrowed, his mouth pulled into a tremble of a smile that couldn’t quite form, and his hands still shook as he held yours against his face. You couldn’t remember ever seeing him so undone.

His voice cracked again as he breathed out, “I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you.”

With what little strength you had, you shifted your fingers against his cheek, the movement so faint it was barely more than a twitch, but it was enough. Lighter stilled. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he gave you—relief and anguish and something deeply tender—almost made your chest ache more than the wounds.

“Don’t look so miserable,” you croaked weakly, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not a good look.”

Lighter let out a broken laugh, half-choked, as he shook his head and pressed your hand a little closer to his face, like he couldn’t bear to let go. “You’re….unbelievable, you know that?”

Your eyelids felt heavy again, the exhaustion pulling you back under, but before you drifted off, you gathered just enough strength to move your fingers—barely brushing against his hair. It wasn’t much, but you could feel him freeze for just a second before his head dipped, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

“…Don’t cry, Lighter,” you murmured faintly, your voice almost lost to the sound of the machines.

He said nothing, but his hand tightened around yours just slightly, steady and reassuring as your vision dimmed again. The last thing you felt before sleep claimed you was the warmth of him, anchoring you there, refusing to let you slip away again.

____

The days that followed were a blur of discomfort, frustration, and exhaustion. Recovery wasn’t the smooth, quiet process you imagined—every moment was heavy with dull aches and sharp stabs of pain that seemed determined to remind you of the fragile state you were in. The smallest movements felt monumental. Sitting up? Agony. Walking? A torment. And the worst part? You had to do it.

Lighter made sure of that.

“I’m not moving,” you grumbled, staring at the ceiling with all the stubbornness of someone who’d resigned themselves to becoming one with the hospital bed.

“You are.” Lighter’s voice was steady—calm, but firm. He stood by the side of the bed, arms crossed, his red pupils narrowing ever so slightly behind his sunglasses. “I’ve seen statues with more energy than you.”

You shot him a glare, one that would’ve been far more effective if you weren’t half-buried under blankets like a miserable, oversized cocoon. “I can’t feel my everything. Walking isn’t happening today.”

He huffed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he shook his head. “Come on now, don’t be impossible.”

“And you’re annoying.”

“Good,” he shot back without missing a beat. “At least you’re talking. It’s an improvement over yesterday.”

He was right, and that only made you grumble more.

Before you could retreat further into your blanket fortress, you felt Lighter’s warm hand on your shoulder—gentle, but unyielding. When you looked up, his expression had softened, those green eyes of his visible over the rim of his sunglasses, their red pupils burning with something that looked far too much like care.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “One step. That’s all I’m asking for today.”

You sighed deeply, the ache in your body somehow amplifying your exhaustion. “Why do you care so much?”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a moment, Lighter didn’t respond. He just looked at you—really looked at you—and there was no smirk, no teasing edge to his voice when he finally spoke.

“Because I’m not giving up on you,” he said softly, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

The weight of his words hit you harder than you wanted to admit, and it was enough to shut you up—at least for the moment. You seem to have zero resistance when it’s coming to him, and you’re not so happy about it.

With great reluctance, you let him ease the blankets off of you, though you shot him the occasional withering look as he gently slipped an arm under your back to help you sit upright.

“Careful—”

“I know,” you snapped, hating how pathetic your voice sounded. The motion sent fresh ripples of pain through you, and your face scrunched instinctively as you bit back a groan.

Lighter didn’t flinch. He didn’t complain. He just stayed beside you, his hold steady and careful. “Deep breaths. You’ve got this.”

You exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut. “I hate this.”

“Good. Hate’s motivating,” he replied smoothly, earning a scowl from you.

Slowly, he shifted his grip, easing your legs over the edge of the bed. You grimaced at the movement, feeling every ounce of weight in your body as if you’d suddenly been dropped into it for the first time.

“I’m dying,” you muttered dramatically.

“You’re not dying.”

“I might as well be.”

“You’re not. I promise.” Lighter’s voice was firm, but his touch remained impossibly gentle as he helped you to your feet. The moment your weight shifted, your knees wobbled dangerously, and you swore you would’ve crumpled straight to the floor if not for the steady hands gripping your waist.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the steadiness of his presence holding you upright when you couldn’t.

You frowned at the floor, breathing through the dull ache spreading through your limbs. “For god’s sake. I’m a disaster.”

“You’re alive,” he corrected gently. “Which means you’ve already won the hardest fight.”

You wanted to snap back, to say something sharp and sarcastic, but the words lodged in your throat as you looked up at him. He was staring at you with that same, infuriating patience—the kind that made you feel seen, whether you wanted to be or not.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mumbled.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m someone worth saving.”

Lighter’s grip on you didn’t waver. “That’s because you are.”

You looked away, cheeks warming faintly, too tired to argue anymore. Instead, you focused on taking a single, shaky step forward, feeling like a newborn deer. It was slow and awful, and you hissed through your teeth at the pain—but you did it.

“There you go,” Lighter murmured, his voice softer now, like he was proud of you without needing to say it outright.

“Ugh, you’re annoying,” you grumbled again, your hands weakly gripping his arms for balance.

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back easily. “But I can work with that.”

You let out a heavy sigh, too worn out to keep up the banter, but when you risked a glance at him, you saw something rare—Lighter’s smile. Not his usual teasing grin or smirk, but something softer, more genuine. It almost made the pain worth it.

Almost.

“Fine,” you muttered. “One step. But don’t expect me to run a marathon anytime soon.”

Lighter chuckled, his hands still steady on you as he helped you back to the bed. “One step at a time, sweetheart. That’s all I need from you.”

_____

“Don’t you have mission to do? The red scarf of the Sons of Calydon, abandoning his work and his boss didn’t say a thing?”

You tries to push him away with the lamest thing you could think of.

Lighter let out a quiet, amused huff at your attempt, though there was no humor in his eyes. He leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, the signature red scarf draped over the chair like a constant reminder of the duty outside. But now, it can wait.

“You really think Big Daddy wouldn’t know exactly where I am?” he replied, voice low and steady, as if he were humoring you. “The old man sent me himself.”

Your frown deepened as you looked away, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Still… you have better things to do than babysit someone who can barely walk.”

“Wrong,” he said softly, cutting through your defenses. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You shot him a glare, but it wasn’t sharp enough to cut. It lacked the fire you’d once had. “Stop that. Stop acting like you’re—”

“Like I care?” Lighter finished for you, his red pupils flickering in the low light as he studied you. He tilted his head slightly, almost as though challenging you to fight him on it. “I thought we were done pretending.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to. You stared down at your bandaged hands, hands that still felt too weak to do anything, and tried to swallow the lump rising in your throat.

“It’s stupid,” you muttered, quieter now. “Staying here. Taking care of me. I don’t have anything to repay you. ”

Lighter shifted, pushing himself off the edge of the bed. He crouched down beside you, close enough that you couldn’t avoid looking at him. When he spoke, his voice was softer, gentler, but the weight of it was impossible to ignore.

“Stop saying that.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. He wasn’t teasing you now, or brushing you off like he sometimes did to lighten the mood. His gaze held yours, steady and unwavering.

“If you’re pitying me, just say-”

“You think I’m here because I feel sorry for you?” Lighter shook his head slightly, a faint, almost bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because you matter. Whether you like it or not.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. The sincerity in his voice left you speechless, pinned under the weight of his gaze.

After a moment, Lighter exhaled softly and sat back down in the chair beside you, resting his arms on his knees. “You can push me away all you want,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, “but I’m not leaving. So go ahead, throw the worst you’ve got at me. You won’t shake me off that easily.”

You watched him for a long moment, trying to find cracks in his resolve—something to prove he was just saying what you wanted to hear. But there was nothing. Only patience. Only Lighter, sitting there like he’d already decided he was staying, no matter how hard you tried to shove him out.

“That stubbornness of yours is going to get you into trouble,” you murmured finally, trying to sound annoyed, though it came out weaker than you wanted.

Lighter smirked faintly, leaning back in the chair with a casual shrug. “I’ve been through worse.”

You let out a slow breath, your body too tired to keep fighting him off—at least for now. As much as you hated to admit it, his presence was steady, grounding. Something about having him there—unshakable and stubborn as ever—made the exhaustion in your chest feel just a little lighter.

“Fine,” you muttered, shifting deeper into the blankets. “Stay. But don’t expect me to be nice about it.”

Lighter’s grin softened into something warmer, quieter, as he settled into his seat again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

_____

“Eat,” Lighter said, sliding the bowl of soup onto the small tray table in front of you. His tone was firm, but the way he angled the spoon toward your hand betrayed his gentler intentions.

You scowled, glaring at the soup as though it had personally wronged you. “I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten anything all day,” he shot back, nudging the tray closer. “I don’t care if you’re hungry. Your body needs it, and you’re not skipping this.”

You crossed your arms, slumping further into the hospital bed. “I’ll eat later.”

“You said that three meals ago.” Lighter leaned against the chair beside you, his green-black hair falling across his face, though the sharpness of his red pupils still burned through. “At this rate, you’re going to waste away before I can even teach you how to walk again.”

You rolled your eyes, the ache in your body making you even more irritable than usual. “I don’t need a lecture, Lighter.”

“And I don’t need to babysit a grown adult,” he countered, though his smirk didn’t quite hide the worry etched into his features. He straightened, his red scarf shifting as he crossed his arms. “But here we are. So, what’s it going to take? You want me to spoon-feed you?”

“Try it, and I’ll throw it at you,” you snapped, shooting him a withering glare.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “There’s the fire. Glad to know you’re not entirely gone.”

The back-and-forth continued for what felt like hours—over food, over water, over walking down the hallway. He tried everything to cajole, tease, or outright push you into doing the smallest things to take care of yourself. But you resisted at every turn, too worn out to summon the strength or will to comply.

Eventually, Lighter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood from the chair beside you. “Fine. Be stubborn. But I’m not giving up, so don’t think you’ve won.”

He turned his back to you, walking over to the small couch in the corner of the room and collapsing onto it with a groan. He pulled his scarf loose, tossing it onto the armrest before leaning back and resting his head against the cushion.

For the first time, you noticed how tired he looked—how the shadows under his eyes seemed deeper, the usual energy in his movements subdued. You frowned, guilt prickling at the edges of your stubbornness.

The minutes passed in silence, the faint rhythm of his breathing filling the room as he seemed to drift off. Your chest tightened as you watched him, his face soft and unguarded in the dim light.

Slowly, carefully, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Every movement felt like an uphill battle, but you bit back the groan of pain as you made your way toward him. You stopped just shy of the couch, your hands clutching the edge for balance as you gazed down at him.

“Idiot,” you muttered softly, though your tone lacked any real bite. “You’re working harder than I am. What are you trying to prove?”

He didn’t stir, his chest rising and falling steadily. For a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you should even be doing this. But the guilt wouldn’t let you leave it alone.

With a shaking hand, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his forehead. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “For being so difficult. For… for making you worry so much.”

Your hand lingered for a moment before you leaned down, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to his forehead. The warmth of his skin against your lips made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You straightened, gripping the couch again as you prepared to shuffle back to bed. But the sound of his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Lighter murmured, his tone teasing despite the hoarseness of his voice.

Your eyes widened as you turned back to him, catching the faint smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes were half-open now, those green eyes glinting faintly in the low light.

“Y-You were awake?” you hissed, heat flooding your cheeks.

“Barely,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something quieter as he sat up slowly. “But I’m glad I didn’t miss that.”

You glared at him, though the embarrassment in your expression dulled its edge. “Tch. Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he said, his voice laced with warmth as he leaned back against the couch. “But it’s nice to know you care, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, already shuffling back toward the bed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, his smirk growing. “Guess that makes us even.”

As much as you hated to admit it, there was something comforting about the teasing lilt in his voice—something steady, unshakable. And despite the exhaustion weighing on you, you felt the faintest spark of warmth in your chest as you settled back into bed, his words still lingering in the quiet of the room.

[luminique]

kissing lighter’s scars while laying in bed together.. thoughts?

yes. the biggest reason i don’t write it is because i literally am in love with wriothesley and it’s like the exact same concept so i don’t know whether to write for lighter or wrio. BUT SINCE THIS IS AN ASK, I SHALL DELIVERRR !!

lighter doesn’t get many scars now compared to his time in those underground fighting rings. he doesn’t even show them off, choosing to be almost fully covered up. so on one particularly warm night in blazewood, he couldn’t handle the heat and took off his top, the scars now on full display.

i don’t think he particularly wants to acknowledge it either as it is a past he seems to want to depart from. however, the way your eyes follow its shapes, it’s clear that you’ve got something more on your mind.

“why’re you staring like that?” he was one to be rather straight to the point, clearly speaking his thoughts out without filtering them first. his smooth voice cut through your train of thought as he makes his way to you on the bed.

“hm? oh, you’ve got a lot more scars than i imagined,” you say so nonchalantly, a light blush on his face now. you’ve imagined this before? you’ve imagined him and his body before? he can’t help but smirk to himself after knowing that. he gets under the sheets, letting the blanket loosely cover him due to the warmth.

you got a little closer to him. it was becoming difficult for him to tell whether his body was feeling hot from the weather, the blanket or from you. your hands gently traced the edge of his scar on his shoulder, sending light shivers up his spine.

“can i kiss them?” your voice was so soft but it didn’t negate the fact that his eyes were wide from hearing you ask that. he stuttered, trying to give a response but words couldn’t come out and instead just nods to you.

he could feel your breath on his skin, warm and ticklish. it wasn’t before long that you’d begin placing small kisses along the scar. if he wasn’t blushing before this, he was definitely all red in the face now. “relax, i’m not going to bite you.” you tell him with a smirk on your face, knowing that he was getting a little tense. he could barely think of any words to say and even if he did, they’d make no sense at all.

since he has made it clear previously that he doesn’t want to talk much about his past, you decide to not ask him about it. instead, letting your kisses do the talking for you, reminding him that you still love him despite everything he has been through.

[muffywaifu]

more doodles of my oc and lighter, i love drawing them very much, wish i had time for somethin more proper but for now sketches will have to do ;;

bonus doodle with burnice too!

[punyfry]

Now I KNOW this thing has seen things when Lighter comes over to Belle’s room and “watches movies” with her 😏😂