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bueckersstuff · 5 months ago

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PART II

You woke up with a pounding headache.

The world was fuzzy, spinning slightly as you tried to gather your bearings. Your body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and the aftermath of last night. You tried to move, but your limbs were slow, reluctant to follow your commands. You blinked a few times, the dim light filtering through the curtains blurring into shapes and shadows.

You weren’t in your dorm room.

The realization hit you like a wave, and your heart skipped a beat. You were lying in Paige’s bed!

You bolted upright, your head spinning even more, but it didn’t matter. Panic shot through you, and your mind raced through what had happened the night before.

You remembered the confrontation at the pub—the anger, the pain, the words thrown back and forth. And then Paige had taken you here. She had brought you to her dorm, to her bed, without even asking, without any hesitation. The realization that she had taken care of you, that she’d treated you with such care, tugged at your chest.

But then came the heavy wave of guilt. What the hell had you been doing? Drinking like that, confronting her in front of everyone? The rage you had built up—it felt almost childish now, like you’d been fighting battles in your own head that didn’t really matter. You were angry, but now you were just... confused.

The door creaked open, and there she was. Paige.

Her eyes met yours, and for a split second, she hesitated. Her face, normally so full of confidence, was soft and uncertain. She didn’t seem like the Paige you knew—the strong, invincible athlete who would brush everything off. No, this Paige was different. She looked at you like she wasn’t sure what to say or how to act, like she feared you might vanish in front of her again.

“Hey,” she said, her voice low, almost too soft. “How are you feeling?”

You tried to sit up more, but your body was still heavy, tired. Your throat was dry, and you felt the weight of the night before pulling on you.

“I… I don’t know,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “What happened?”

She sat at the edge of the bed, her gaze steady but full of guilt, like she was bracing for your anger. “You were really drunk,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t leave you there, so I brought you back here. I—I didn’t want to let you stay out there alone, not in that state.”

You watched her closely. Paige had always been the one to keep a distance, the one to move on quickly. But right now, she was... different. The way she was sitting, the way she was looking at you—it wasn’t the Paige you used to know. It was like she was afraid of you, afraid of what you might think of her after everything.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out at first. It wasn’t just the hangover. It was the emotion that was bubbling inside you, threatening to spill out.

“Why did you do that?” you finally asked, your voice hoarse, raw. “After everything, why did you bring me here?”

Paige sighed, her shoulders sagging with the weight of your question. She turned her gaze toward the window, as if searching for something to say, but nothing came. She didn’t look at you when she spoke again, her voice quiet.

“I… I wanted to make it right,” she said softly. “I know I hurt you. I know I messed everything up, but I never meant to push you away. I—I didn’t know how to fix it. I thought I could just... keep going, like everything was fine. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay, and I see that now.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, the anger inside you softened. You felt the knot in your chest loosen, but there was still so much left unspoken, so much left to be said. The wounds were still there, raw, but Paige’s words felt like a crack in the wall between you. She was trying—really trying—to make it right, and that, at least, meant something.

You didn’t know what to say.

Paige, sensing your silence, hesitated before continuing, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ve missed you. More than I care to admit. And I know I hurt you... but I can’t pretend like it didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t want to be this person, but I let everything get in the way, and now... now I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make you open up to me again.”

Her eyes were wide now, full of sincerity, and there was a vulnerability in them that you hadn’t seen before. Paige was strong—too strong, maybe—but right now, she was stripped bare, laid out in front of you, vulnerable in a way that she never let anyone see. The truth hung in the air between you.

You couldn’t look away from her. You wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat. There was so much to unpack, so much history between you, and you weren’t sure how to navigate this moment, how to trust again her again not to discard you.

“I don’t know what to do to fix this. I came here with the resolve to make it up to you, for us to go back to the way it was before, but with everything that has happened up until last night, I’m lost.” You whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “I think we need time, Paige. We need to think. If you want us to be friends again, that is.”

Paige fell silent, but she didn’t argue. She nodded slowly, like she understood, like she was ready to accept whatever came next. “I can give you time,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll wait. I just... I just wanted you to know that I’m here now. And I’m sorry, for making you feel unimportant back then. I’m so caught up with everything that’s happening in my life, and I’m so blinded by my sadness when you chose to go to Harvard that I did not have the time to reflect and think about what you might be feeling all those times. I’m really sorry, for doing this to us.”

The apology hung between you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. It was small, fragile, but it was there. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. Maybe there was a way back.

Later that day, you were left alone with your thoughts in your dorm. Paige walked you home. She had done the first move, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the girl you had once known—the one who had been your best friend, the one who had cared about you more than anyone else. But there was still so much to process, so much you had to let go of, and you knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing with the words she had said. She was sorry. She was trying to make it right.

But is it really that easy? Could you ever go back to how things were?

The questions swirled in your head, and you didn’t have the answers. Not yet.

But somewhere deep inside, you realized that maybe it wasn’t about going back. Maybe it was about finding a new way forward, together or apart. You weren’t sure, but for the first time, the future didn’t seem so impossible.

And as Paige’s voice echoed in your mind, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t too late.

The campus was alive with the buzz of midterms approaching, but for you, it was just another blur of routine. You’d wake up, grab a coffee from the café, and head straight to your business management lectures. UConn was a new chapter—one that felt like it had been written just for you. Not just for the opportunity to study at one of the top schools in the nation, but because Paige was here. You were reconnecting, slowly. She was putting in the effort, and you could see it. You knew her well enough to know when she was being genuine, and this—this felt like it.

She’d text you every morning, “Good luck on your test today! 😊” or “Let’s grab lunch later.” Small gestures, but they were real. And she made time. Even if it was just a quick walk between classes or sitting on the steps of the Student Union to chat for a few minutes, you were making it work.

But things weren’t perfect. Not by a long shot. Paige had a lot of baggage to carry around. The most glaring weight was Azzi.

The gym was packed. It was a Friday night, and UConn was facing Iowa in the Final Four. You sat in the bleachers with a group of friends, but your eyes were glued to Paige. The game was everything, and she had been playing her heart out—dazzling passes, a few flawless three-pointers, her determination palpable with every move. You’d seen her play so many times before, but this time, you felt... different. You weren’t just rooting for the team. You were rooting for her.

The crowd erupted as UConn was within a few points of Iowa. The tension in the air was electric, but you could see it on Paige’s face. The pressure. The weight of the moment. You could tell she was trying to push everything else aside—the outside noise, the expectations, but she couldn’t. Not in a game this big.

Then, you saw her—the one person who, despite everything, still had a hold on Paige. Azzi was on the bench, watching from the sidelines. She’s still not cleared to play, but she was still there, right next to Paige. You watched them exchange glances, and even though the whole world was focused on the game, the two of them were locked in their own silent communication. You knew about their past, but it irritate you just the same. You couldn’t put it into words, but there was this nagging feeling in your chest.

Azzi might not be on the court, but it was obvious she was still a part of Paige’s world, even though you knew, deep down, that they weren’t together anymore. They had broken up. You’d heard the rumors, and Paige also confirmed it, but you could see it. The way they still seemed connected, the little touches, the shared smiles—something about it made you feel... off.

And that feeling—was it jealousy? Jealousy in terms of friendship or was it something more? Why did you feel this way? You were just her friend, right? Paige is just a friend to you. So why did your stomach tighten every time Azzi whispered something to Paige? Why did it hurt when they made eye contact as if no one else was around? You didn’t understand it. You wanted to be there for Paige. You were there for her. But why did the thought of Azzi being the one to console her make your blood boil, after all this time?

The game was winding down, and the energy in the gym felt suffocating. Paige was leading the charge, but then came the unexpected—an illegal screen, the ball hasn’t even left Paige’s hands yet, and Iowa took the lead.

The buzzer sounded, and UConn lost.

The gym erupted into chaos, but the worst sound was the silence in Paige’s eyes as she ran off the court. She was trying to hold it together, but you could see it in her face—the devastation. The sting of disappointment that was a million times worse than anything she’d felt before. She had given everything, and it hadn’t been enough. She was torn between wanting to be strong for the team and collapsing under the weight of the loss.

You made your way toward the locker room area, intent on finding her, but there was Azzi—standing just outside the room. She looked at you, her expression unreadable.

“You’re going to talk to her?” Azzi asked, her tone flat, like she had no interest in you but just enough curiosity to ask.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice sharp. “She’s my friend.”

Azzi’s lips twitched. “And she’s mine.”

You clenched your fists, the jealousy bubbling up again. “She’s not your anything anymore.”

Azzi didn’t flinch. “That’s not for you to decide.”

You swallowed, trying to control the storm inside you. “It’s about what she needs, not about what you want. You should know that better than anyone.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. She just looked at you with a quiet intensity. “It’s not that simple,” she said softly. Then she added, almost as an afterthought, “But good luck.”

You didn’t wait for her to say anything more. You pushed past the tension in your chest and headed toward the locker room. But there, standing in the doorway, was Paige. Her eyes were red, her body weary from the game, but she still managed to give you a soft, grateful smile.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to be,” you replied, walking closer, your heart aching for her.

She shook her head. “I just need a minute.”

“I’m here when you’re ready,” you said softly.

She nodded, her gaze flickering to where Azzi was still standing outside, watching from afar. You couldn’t help but notice the way Paige lingered for just a moment before her eyes met yours again.

“I know. Thank you,” she said, her voice riddled with exhaustion and defeat.

The days after the game felt like a blur. Everything seemed quieter. The campus noise faded into the background as you went through your usual routine—lectures, study sessions, and late-night assignments—but your mind kept drifting back to the same place: Paige.

You’d seen how hard she had taken the loss, and you were there, trying to offer comfort. But after that night, something shifted between you two. Paige had started keeping her distance again. She was still the same in a way—polite, kind—but the walls were up once more. You’d text her, and the responses were brief. You’d try to get lunch, but it was always a “Maybe later” or “I’m busy.”

At first, you thought it was just the aftermath of the game. Paige was a fighter; she needed her space to process. But as the days stretched on, it became clear that it wasn’t just the game.

It was Azzi.

You had found out through a mix of things—whispers, rumors, small gestures between Paige and Azzi in passing—that Azzi was trying to get back with Paige. She’d been persistent, showing up at every practice she doesn’t partake in, every game, every team event, talking to Paige more than she ever had before. You could see the way Paige’s eyes softened when Azzi was around, and the way Azzi leaned in a little too close when they spoke. You knew this wasn’t just about being friendly, an ex-to-friends relationship. This was something deeper.

One evening, after a long day of classes, Paige texted you.

Paige: "Hey, can we meet up later? I need to talk to you."

You didn’t hesitate. You needed answers. You knew something was wrong, and you had to figure out what it was. When you met her at the library, her face was pale, tired, her eyes red from what you could only guess were tears, but she still greeted you with that smile of hers—the one that made your heart skip, even when you knew it was forced.

“Hey,” you said, taking a seat across from her. “What’s up? You okay?”

Paige hesitated for a long moment, her fingers tapping nervously on the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About everything. About the game. About… Azzi.”

You froze at the mention of her name. You knew what was coming.

“She’s been trying to get back with me,” Paige said quietly, her eyes not meeting yours. “She’s been...persistent. And I don’t know how to handle it.”

Your heart tightened. “But you broke up, right?” The words came out before you could stop them, tinged with more emotion than you had intended.

“I know. I know we’re not together anymore,” Paige said, her voice softer now. “But it’s different. It’s like she’s not giving up, and it’s messing with my head. I don’t know if I should even let her back in. I don’t know if I want to, but… part of me still feels something for her.”

Your chest felt heavy. The air in the room seemed to close in around you. You swallowed hard, trying to control your breath. This wasn’t what you had expected. This wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

And then, she hit you with the question.

“Do you think it would be better if Azzi and I just... got back together?”

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest. “What?” you whispered, the shock evident in your voice.

Paige’s gaze was soft but conflicted. “I don’t know what to do. You’ve been such a good friend to me, and I don’t want to hurt you by thinking I’m choosing Azzi again... but I also don’t want to make the wrong choice with her.”

The world around you felt like it was spinning. You stared at her, trying to make sense of what she had just asked. The hurt crept in, raw and sharp. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about her happiness. You would never want to stand in the way of that. But the idea of Azzi back in her life—the same Azzi who had torn the two of you apart once before—felt like a knife in your side.

But then, something else hit you.

Why does this hurt so much? Why does this feel worse than the first time?

The realization washed over you slowly, painfully. Your feelings for Paige—this wasn’t just friendship. You had always been there for her, always tried to protect her, but now you saw it for what it was: You loved her. You wanted to be the one to make her happy. You wanted to be the one she turned to when things fell apart. But you couldn’t force that on her. You couldn’t demand her heart.

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself. “Paige,” you started, your voice shaking, “If getting back with Azzi makes you happy, then you should do it. I want you to be happy. And if that’s what you need, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

Her face faltered. For a brief moment, you saw something flash in her eyes—a mix of disappointment and confusion. “Are you sure?” she asked quietly, her voice tight. “I thought... I thought you’d tell me to choose.”

You shook your head. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. I just want you to be okay.”

Paige bit her lip, her gaze falling to her hands in her lap. “I don’t know if I’m okay.”

After you’d left the library, everything felt like it was unraveling. You walked back to your dorm in a daze, your thoughts a jumble of pain and confusion.

You stood in front of your bed for a long time, staring at the empty space on the mattress, the silence louder than anything else. You had given her the freedom to choose, to make her own decision, but it didn’t make the ache in your chest go away. It made it worse.

You sat down, the weight of everything crashing down on you. You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears came fast and uncontrollable. You buried your face in your hands, shaking with the pain of it all.

Why does this hurt so much?

You loved Paige. But maybe that wasn’t enough. Maybe you weren’t enough. She was torn between her past with Azzi and her future with whatever was left of her feelings for you—and no matter what you said, you knew she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about you. She wasn’t sure about herself.

And that was the hardest part.

You wiped your eyes, but the tears kept falling. You hated yourself for feeling this way. You didn’t want to be a burden to her, but the truth was—this was breaking you.

You didn’t know how much more of this you could take.

News of Paige and Azzi getting back together spread like wildfire around UConn. The whispers were impossible to avoid—people talked in hushed tones in the hallways, friends exchanged knowing glances, and the social media posts were filled with the usual fanfare. Paige and Azzi were back, and to everyone on the outside, it was like they had never been apart.

For you, though, it felt different.

You tried to go about your usual habits—lectures, assignments, study sessions—trying to block out the noise. The distraction of schoolwork, the familiarity of your daily schedule, was all you had to hold on to now. The pain in your chest felt distant, like it belonged to someone else, but the sharp edges would flare up unexpectedly. It was like living with an ache that you could never quite shake.

Paige was back to her usual self—smiling, chatting, hanging out with you like nothing had changed. She was still your friend, and you appreciated that. But every time Azzi showed up, her presence felt like a reminder of everything you had lost. Azzi was always tagging along now, always in the background, like she was rubbing it in your face that she had won. She had Paige back.

And you were just standing there, pretending everything was fine.

You acted normal. You played pretend—didn’t let anything show. Paige would laugh about something, and you would laugh with her. She’d tell you about the latest game, and you’d ask the questions, nodding along, being the good friend you were supposed to be. But inside, it was a different story. Your heart felt like it was breaking into smaller and smaller pieces every time you had to face Azzi, who never failed to make her presence known.

It was a game to her, you could tell. A silent competition, like she was reminding you, over and over, that she had won.

It happened one afternoon in the student center. You were sitting by the window, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, when you saw Paige and Azzi walk in together, laughing, looking perfectly at ease. Azzi shot you a quick look, her expression smug, like she knew exactly how this made you feel.

You didn’t flinch, though. You’d learned to control your emotions, at least on the outside.

Paige waved to you. “Hey, you! Over here!” she called out with a bright smile.

You waved back, trying to act as casual as possible. “Hey,” you replied, standing up. You approached them, forcing yourself to keep the smile plastered on your face, even though it felt like it was weighing you down.

Azzi raised an eyebrow as you got closer. “So how’s life, huh?” she asked, her tone a little too sweet, a little too mocking.

You managed to bite back your frustration. “Same old,” you said with a shrug, trying to keep things light.

Paige shot Azzi a quick look, then smiled at you, unaware of the subtle tension in the air. “We were just talking about the upcoming game. You’ll be there, right?”

You nodded, “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Azzi’s lips twitched into a smile, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “Good. We could use your support.” She said it casually, but it felt loaded. Like she was asserting something, reminding you that you were just the background noise to their life.

Later that day, you were walking through the campus, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling that lingered from the earlier encounter. You were near the gym when you ran into Nika Muhl, a teammate of Paige’s who had always been kind to you.

“Hey, you,” she greeted, giving you a small, knowing smile.

You smiled back, relieved for a familiar face. “Hey, Nika. How’s everything going?”

“Good, good,” she said. She paused for a second, like she was choosing her words carefully. “You know, I thought Paige would be… different with Azzi coming back. I didn’t think she’d go for it again, after everything.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the comment. “Really?”

Nika gave you a quick, cryptic smile, her eyes glancing around before she leaned in a little closer. “Well, you know… sometimes the heart wants what it wants. And I thought Paige would make her own choice this time. I guess I was wrong.”

You blinked, trying to process the words. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged casually, but there was something in her eyes that made you feel like you were part of something bigger than just casual conversation. “I’m just saying, some things aren’t as simple as they seem, you know? Don’t worry too much. She’s just being stupid right now.”

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more she was trying to say. Maybe she was telling you that Paige was confused, maybe even that Paige would have chosen you if she had the chance.

But the moment passed, and Nika walked away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

The tension between you and Azzi escalated the next week. During practice, Azzi made a pointed comment, loud enough for everyone to hear, about how you were always around, always trying to support Paige.

“Must be nice to have someone always running after you,” Azzi said, eyes flicking in your direction with a thinly veiled sneer. “I guess it’s just how things go when you don’t have your own life.”

The teammates who were nearby glanced at each other, and you could see that some of them caught the undertones of Azzi’s words.

Before you could even respond, Paige shot Azzi a glare. “Azzi, that’s enough,” she snapped, her voice sharper than you’d ever heard it. “You don’t need to talk to her like that.”

Nika, too, stepped in, putting her arms around your shoulder, her posture defensive. “Hey, don’t drag anyone into your stuff. We’re all here to support each other, right?”

Azzi scowled, but she didn’t say anything else.

You felt a strange sense of relief wash over you, but it didn’t make the situation any easier. In that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, Paige did still care. But it didn’t change the fact that Azzi was in the picture again, like a shadow you couldn’t escape.

Later that night, after everything had settled, you found yourself alone in your dorm, staring out the window at the dark campus. You had been pretending for so long—pretending to be okay, pretending to be fine with everything. But the truth was, it hurt more than you were letting on.

The weight of it all was unbearable. You cared for Paige in ways you couldn’t explain, but you couldn’t change her heart. You couldn’t make her choose you, and maybe you didn’t even have the right to ask.

It felt like an emotional rollercoaster, each high followed by an even steeper low. And the worst part was that you couldn’t get off the ride.

You sighed deeply, pressing your forehead against the cool glass of the window. The night felt endless, just like your thoughts, just like this ache in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, this was your life now.

Living in the shadow of something you could never have.

When Emma messaged you to say she was in Connecticut visiting her family, you were thrilled. It had been a while since you’d caught up with her, and now she was just a short drive away from UConn.

She’d been your friend back at Harvard, always the one you could rely on for honest advice and random laughs. She was coming by UConn for a few days, and you were more than happy to show her around campus.

The plan was simple: hang out, catch up, and spend time together before she headed back home. You figured it would be a nice break from everything that had been going on, a chance to escape the tension and focus on something lighthearted.

You met up with Emma at one of your favorite café outside campus, a small but cozy spot tucked between buildings, known for its fresh pastries and warm atmosphere. It was the perfect place to relax, sip on coffee, and chat about life, school, and everything in between. The mood between you two was easy and carefree, just like old times.

Emma had that infectious smile, the kind that made everything seem brighter. You talked about classes, about your decision to transfer to UConn, and about some funny memories from your time at Harvard. You both laughed at the silly things that only the two of you would understand. It felt like the stress of the world had melted away, and you were just two friends, enjoying a simple afternoon.

However, your peaceful moment was abruptly interrupted when you looked up from your coffee and saw a familiar face standing by the entrance. It was Paige—along with Azzi and a few of their teammates. You froze for a moment, unsure of what to do.

Paige’s eyes met yours across the room, and you saw her pause, as if debating whether or not to come over. You forced a smile and waved, trying to keep the situation casual. But as you did, you noticed the way Paige’s gaze flicked from you to Emma and back again. There was something... off in the way she looked at the two of you, almost like she was measuring the space between you.

Emma didn’t seem to notice, though. She waved at Paige brightly, her usual friendly self. “Hey! If it isn’t the great Paige Bueckers!”

Paige smiled faintly and stepped closer, but there was something in her posture that made her seem more distant than usual. “Yeah, I was just grabbing coffee with the team. It’s Emma, right? So nice to finally meet you in person.”

Azzi stood behind Paige, arms crossed, her gaze flicking between you and Emma with a calculating look in her eyes. It was almost as if she was waiting for something—waiting for the moment to make her presence felt.

“Is she your friend?” Azzi said, her tone cool, almost too casual. “Catching up on old times?”

You could feel the tension in the air. You weren’t sure if it was because of Paige’s lingering discomfort or Azzi’s sharp words, but the mood had shifted. What had started as a fun, lighthearted afternoon now felt like it was charged with something unspoken.

Emma, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, grinned and looked at you. “Yeah, we were just talking about some old memories from Harvard. It’s so great to see her again.”

You noticed the way Paige’s smile stiffened at Emma’s words. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than you felt comfortable with.

Azzi didn’t miss a beat. “It must be nice,” she said with a soft smirk, clearly trying to poke at something deeper. “Spending time with someone who really gets you.”

You could feel the weight of Azzi’s gaze as it shifted between you and Emma, then back to Paige, who was suddenly very quiet. There was a heaviness in the air that hadn't been there before.

You tried to keep things light, pushing the awkwardness aside. “Yeah, Emma’s been really busy with her studies, but it’s nice to have some time to catch up,” you said, offering a weak smile. “You know how it is.”

Paige nodded but didn’t say anything, her lips pressed together as if she was carefully choosing her words. She shifted slightly, the space between her and Azzi almost a foot now.

“So, what are you all up to?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation in a more neutral direction.

Azzi, still leaning against the counter, looked at you with a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, we’re just here for a quick break. We’ve got a lot of practices ahead.” She turned to Paige with a knowing look, one that made you feel like you were being excluded from something.

Paige’s eyes flicked toward Emma, who was casually sipping her coffee, and for a split second, you caught a flash of something—something like irritation in her gaze. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a neutral expression.

“We should get going,” Paige said abruptly, her voice tighter than before. “Come on, Azzi.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Sure,” she said, turning to walk out. But before she did, she shot you one last look—one that almost felt like a challenge.

You watched as Paige walked away, but not before she glanced over her shoulder at you. It was fleeting, but you saw it—a brief moment of hesitation, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t.

As you and Emma sat there, the weight of what had just happened hung between you. Emma was still completely unaware of the shift in the atmosphere. She smiled brightly at you, oblivious to the storm brewing just outside the café’s windows.

“So, what do you think?” Emma asked, her eyes sparkling. “Should I visit UConn more often?”

You chuckled lightly, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort. “Of course. I’d love to have you around more.”

But inside, everything felt strange. The way Paige had looked at you earlier, the tension in the air—it wasn’t just about Emma being in town. There was something deeper there, something that had been simmering for a while. And as much as you tried to push it down, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

That night, you found yourself replaying everything in your mind. The way Paige had looked at you and Emma, the way Azzi had casually thrown her words out there. It felt like a game to her—a way to test boundaries, to stake her claim. But what bothered you most was that Paige had seemed so uncomfortable. She hadn’t seemed like herself at all.

You weren’t sure what to make of it. Was she just annoyed that Emma was around? Or was there something else going on that you couldn’t see?

Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that the tension was thick, and it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

It had only been a few days since Emma’s arrival in Connecticut, but the energy had already shifted. What was supposed to be a casual visit between friends had begun to feel like something much more complicated. As much as you tried to stay in the moment and enjoy the time with Emma, there was no denying the tension that had been building—especially when it came to Paige.

Each time you and Emma met up, whether it was grabbing coffee or walking around campus, Paige’s reactions became harder to ignore. At first, it was subtle—a slight stiffening of her shoulders whenever Emma laughed too loudly or a brief moment of silence whenever you and Emma exchanged a joke. But then it grew more noticeable, and it wasn’t just Paige who seemed to be affected.

Azzi, too, couldn’t help but throw little remarks in your direction, as if testing the waters, always with that smirk that made you feel like you were caught in some game you didn’t understand. But it wasn’t until that particular afternoon at the library that everything came to a head.

You and Emma were sitting at one of the large study tables in the library, your textbooks open but barely touched as you two were deep in conversation. Emma had just told a funny story about her family, and you were both laughing like you hadn’t a care in the world. The kind of laughter that felt warm, natural, easy.

And then, you heard a voice. “So, this is what you’ve been up to lately?”

You looked up to see Paige standing in the aisle between the study tables, arms crossed, her expression tight. Azzi was right behind her, her presence like a shadow that seemed to intensify the atmosphere.

Emma’s face lit up when she saw Paige, but the cheerfulness in her voice faltered when she noticed the coldness in Paige’s eyes. “Hey, Paige! Didn’t know you were in here!”

Paige nodded but didn’t offer a smile, her gaze flicking briefly to you before settling back on Emma. “Yeah, I just needed to grab something.” Her words were clipped, sharp. “Looks like you two are having fun.”

There was an awkward pause. You felt it before you could even put it into words. You saw it in the way Paige’s eyes lingered on you and Emma, the way her lips were pressed into a thin line, almost like she was biting back something she didn’t want to say. The way she stood there, distant, as if every second she was in the room with you both, she was trying to control something she couldn’t name.

“You should join us!” Emma suggested, completely unaware of the tension building between them. “We’ve got space here, we’re just... catching up.”

But Paige wasn’t in the mood for any of it. She simply shook her head, her gaze drifting toward Azzi as if seeking comfort, or maybe reassurance.

“Maybe later,” Paige muttered, before turning quickly to leave.

You watched her walk away, feeling the weight of her retreat, and it stung more than you expected. You had been so focused on Emma, on the simplicity of the moment, but Paige’s behavior had become too loud to ignore. The air felt too thick, and you found yourself staring after her, the nagging feeling of something unresolved gnawing at you.

That evening, things took a turn for the worse. Emma had invited you to meet her for dinner, and you accepted, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling you’d had all day. But as soon as you walked into the restaurant outside campus, you saw Paige and Azzi at a nearby table, their heads close together, whispering to each other. The moment they noticed you, though, everything shifted.

Azzi gave you a small nod, almost too casual. “How’s everything?” she asked, her voice smooth but laced with something that felt like a challenge.

You nodded back, trying to keep it friendly, but before you could respond, you saw Paige’s eyes flicker over to Emma, who was standing next to you, smiling and talking about something random. Paige’s expression tightened, a flicker of something dark crossing her features. She looked at you, and for the first time, her gaze felt accusatory.

You sat at your table with Emma, trying to ignore the growing tension in the room, but you could feel it. You could feel Paige’s eyes on you, on Emma. The air felt thick with tension, but it wasn’t something you could easily name.

After a few minutes, Azzi stood up and casually walked over to your table. She didn’t ask if she could join, just slid into the chair across from you.

“I didn’t know you were hanging out with Emma again,” Azzi said, her tone light, but there was something pointed in her voice, like a challenge wrapped in a joke. “Guess she’s been keeping you busy.”

You forced a smile, trying to keep things neutral. “Yeah, just catching up. She’s visiting family, so... we’re hanging out while she’s here.”

Azzi smirked, glancing over at Paige, who was now trying to busy herself with her phone. “It’s nice that you two have so much in common,” she said, the words dripping with meaning. “She’s certainly been... making her presence known around here.”

That was when you saw it—the moment when everything shifted.

Paige’s voice rang out from across the table, sharper than it had been all night. “Yeah, well, she’s not the only one who’s been around,” she spat, her eyes flickering with something darker. “Maybe some of us always had a claim.”

The words hung in the air like a sudden strike, and everything felt still. Azzi froze. Emma blinked, clearly not expecting that kind of outburst. You... didn’t know what to say.

Azzi leaned forward, her voice lowering in a mockingly sweet tone. “Paige, what’s the problem? You’re acting like you’re... jealous of Emma, but that doesn’t make sense. You were just friends, right?”

That’s when the world seemed to stop for a beat. It was as if Azzi’s words had peeled away some kind of mask, revealing something raw, something hidden beneath the surface.

You could see Paige’s entire demeanor shift in an instant. Her face flushed, and for the first time, her eyes betrayed something she couldn’t hide—something that had been building up for days, weeks even. She opened her mouth, closed it again, clearly struggling with something she didn’t want to admit.

Before she could speak, Azzi gave her a sharp look. “I don’t think this is the time to be fighting over her, Paige. You don’t have to act like you’re losing.”

The comment hung heavy in the air. Paige clenched her jaw and stood up abruptly. “You know what?” she muttered, “I don’t need this right now.”

She shot a glance at you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, her eyes weren’t filled with anger or frustration, but something else—something that made your heart skip. She didn’t say another word. She just walked out.

The rest of the night was a blur. Emma kept asking if you were okay, but you barely heard her. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying the confrontation between Paige and Azzi, trying to make sense of it.

Was Paige jealous? Of you? Of Emma? Of something else entirely?

You didn’t know. You couldn’t. But what you did know was that something had broken. Something had snapped between Paige and you, and now you couldn’t go back to the way things had been.

The days following that night were like walking through a fog. You could feel it, a weight pressing against your chest that you couldn’t escape. The quietness that hung between you and Paige felt unbearable. Every time you saw her, there was a distance, a coldness, but also something unspoken—something that neither of you could put into words. The way she had left the restaurant, the way she had looked at you, stayed with you like an echo in the back of your mind.

The space between you two had always felt fragile, but now, it was like a thread stretched too thin, ready to snap. You didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know how to fix it, but you felt something inside you breaking. Maybe it was the weight of the silence. Maybe it was the way Paige refused to look you in the eye whenever you crossed paths. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the tension of that one moment—the moment when Azzi had called Paige out for acting jealous.

Azzi, of course, seemed to think it was a game. She took every opportunity to poke at you, to make you feel small, as if she was enjoying the conflict. And Paige? She said nothing, just let it happen.

It was a Friday evening when the storm finally broke.

You were sitting in the common area, scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the constant thoughts racing through your head. Emma was out for the night, visiting friends. You thought about going out to clear your mind, but the idea of seeing Paige again—of facing her—felt overwhelming. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do anymore. You didn’t know what she wanted from you.

And then, without warning, she appeared. Paige, standing in the doorway of the common area, her eyes wild and frantic. She was out of breath, as though she had been running. You hadn’t seen her like this before—this frantic, this raw.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice low but urgent. There was a desperation in her tone that you couldn’t ignore.

You stood up immediately, unsure of what to say, what to do. Her gaze flickered nervously between you and the door, like she was checking to make sure no one was listening. She took a deep breath before stepping toward you.

“Now,” she added, her voice trembling slightly.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you followed her to a quieter part of the building, away from the hustle and bustle of students. You didn’t know what to expect, but you could feel that something in her was unraveling, something that couldn’t be fixed with a simple conversation.

Once you were alone, Paige turned to face you, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath she took. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and her eyes darted everywhere but at you.

“Paige,” you said softly, unsure of where to start. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting... different.”

She hesitated, her voice trembling. “I don’t know how to say this.”

There was a long silence before she finally looked at you, and in that moment, everything shifted. The walls she’d built up between you two seemed to crumble, leaving only the truth in its wake.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Trying to pretend it wasn’t real, that it didn’t matter. But it does. It matters.”

You felt your pulse quicken. You didn’t know where this was going, but you could feel the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What matters?”

“I... I don’t know how to explain it, but every time I see you with her...” Paige’s words faltered, as if she was struggling to admit something she had kept buried for far too long. “I can’t handle it. I can't breathe. I hate that she’s around you. I hate that she... cares about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was like the world had stopped spinning. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. It was as if the realization had hit you like a punch to the gut, and you didn’t know how to process it.

Paige’s eyes filled with tears, and she wiped them away quickly, as if trying to keep her composure. “I’ve been in denial. I thought I could keep doing this, keep pretending that everything was fine. But it’s not fine. Not with Azzi. Not with you.”

You stepped forward, your heart aching. “Paige, I don’t understand. You and Azzi—”

“I’m with her,” Paige interrupted, her voice rising in frustration. “I was with her, but it’s not the same. I don’t feel... whole with her. It’s like something is always missing, and that something is you. You’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. You’ve always been the one I could count on, the one who saw me, really saw me.”

Her voice cracked, and she took a shaky step back, her hands trembling. “I’ve been so scared. So scared of losing you. I didn’t want to admit it, but I think... I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, sweeping over you with such force that you could barely keep your balance. You stared at her, stunned, your mind racing to catch up with the reality of what she was saying.

“Paige, I—” You started, but she cut you off.

“I know this is complicated. I know it’s messed up. I’m with Azzi, and I can’t just... leave her without breaking everything. But when I saw you with Emma, I realized something.” Paige’s breath caught in her throat as she took another step back. “I realized I couldn’t keep pretending. I’m not just your friend. I’m... I’m in love with you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of how to respond, unsure of what to do. Every instinct told you to comfort her, to hold her, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. Not when she was still in a relationship with Azzi. Not when everything between the three of you was tangled in so much pain and confusion.

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Everything inside you felt so tangled, so conflicted. You wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that you felt the same way, but the weight of the situation felt like too much to bear. You couldn’t just ignore the fact that Azzi was part of her life, that the betrayal felt like it would cut deeper than any words could express.

“I’m sorry,” Paige whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have said any of this.”

“No,” you finally managed to say, your voice hoarse. “Paige, you— you can’t just shut this down. We— we can’t just ignore this.”

But as the words left your lips, you knew the truth. It didn’t matter what either of you said. This was messy. This was painful. This wasn’t going to be easy. And the hardest part was that, no matter how much you might want to say that you felt the same, the circumstances were impossible. Paige was still with Azzi.

“You can’t just expect everything to fall into place like this,” you said softly, the hurt in your voice unmistakable. “I don’t know if I can handle you and Azzi... and me. I don’t know what you want from me, Paige. You’ve made your choice, and I—” you stopped yourself, feeling like your chest was being crushed.

Paige’s expression crumpled, and for the first time, you saw her vulnerability laid bare. “I don’t know what I want either. I don’t know what’s right. But I can’t keep pretending that I’m not in love with you. I can't. I just can’t.”

She was shaking now, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to make you feel like you didn’t matter. But you do. You matter to me more than anyone else.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You could feel the tension between you two like a taut rope ready to snap. Neither of you had the answers, and neither of you knew what to do next.

But one thing was clear, everything will change after tonight.

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dollyswishingwell · 29 days ago

Note

Hiii do u think u could write about a chubby mc by any chance like maybe similar to your works with the lingerie and pampering? Thank you so much!!!

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Fluffy

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluffff, i love soft women therefore the boys love soft women. this is for alllll the chubby reader requests. feel free to request more specific scenarios if you’d like :p

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Your chubbiness is a result of their spoiling. they take full responsibility

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧��.ೃ࿔*:･

- “So soft…” Rafayel can’t stop touching you. Your tummy, your thighs, your arms, he’s always squeezing, always hugging you from behind with his chin resting on your shoulder and both hands laid over your stomach like it’s sacred. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” he murmurs with a dreamy little smile that makes your heart melt.

- He spoils you constantly. Food from quaint seaside cafés, sugary pastries, lavender bubble tea, rich desserts from his homeland… and he insists on feeding you with his own stained fingers. If you try to share with him, he pouts, “No, no, I bought it for you, not to split.”

- He’s obsessed with how you glow. He paints you in soft, dreamy palettes, your figure bathed in sunlight, your belly peeking from under silk robes, your stretch marks immortalized like delicate brushstrokes. He’ll kiss your shoulder and murmur, “My masterpiece.” And he means it.

- He takes it personally when you talk about dieting. He’ll gently pull you onto his lap, smug as ever, rubbing slow circles into your hips while teasing, “You want to starve what I’ve been working so hard on?” Then he starts pressing kisses down your neck until you forget what you were even saying.

- He overstimulates you out of worship. Especially when you’re feeling self-conscious. Rafayel takes his time with you. He kisses every inch of your stomach, thighs, hips. His voice goes soft, “I love when you’re full of me… full of love. You’re perfect like this.” And he makes sure you feel it, over and over again.

- He loves how soft you are when you sleep. He always spoons you, his leg draped over yours, hand possessively resting on your stomach. Sometimes, he’ll even wake you up at 3am just to whisper, “You’re so beautiful right now. Look at the moonlight on your skin.”

- He starts drama with Thomas constantly. Usually because he’s skipping some press event or gallery meeting to stay home feeding you strawberries in bed or building a pillow nest around you for a nap. “Tell him I’m retired,” Rafayel yawns, nuzzling into your hair. “I’m busy sculpting divinity.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

- He doesn’t say much, he just stares. The moment you walk by in one of your silky robes, and he catches the curve of your fuller hips, your thighs, the soft swell of your stomach, Zayne goes completely silent. His hazel-green eyes follow every movement like a surgeon examining perfection. And then? That low, commanding “Come here.”

- He has zero complaints. You might grumble that you can’t fit into one of your old gala gowns, but he’s already kneeling in front of you, lips brushing your stomach. His voice is calm, steady, reverent. “Then we’ll get better ones. Custom. To fit exactly the way I like.”

- He touches you constantly at home. When you’re curled up beside him, he’ll rest his hand over your thigh or stomach while reading patient files or typing on his tablet. He rubs slow, absentminded circles, like the feel of you grounds him more than anything else.

- He keeps feeding you, without comment. Gourmet meals, imported teas, delicate desserts from private caterers. He’ll set snack trays on your vanity while you get ready, murmuring behind you as he fastens your necklace, “Eat something while I zip this up.”

- Strict with everyone, except you. When you worry out loud about your weight, he looks at you with that cool, clinical gaze before saying, in a voice that brooks no argument: “You’re healthy. You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

- Obsessively gentle during intimacy. Especially now that you’re softer. Zayne takes his time, kissing your stomach, massaging your thighs, whispering into your skin like he’s reading scripture. “I love this body. You grew it for me.”

- He starts buying you more robes. Expensive ones. Satin, silk, cashmere, soft fabrics that fall around your frame like royalty. All a little oversized, all handpicked. “You’re a doctor’s wife now,” he says, voice low with amusement. “I expect you to look the part.”

- He shuts down your insecurities instantly. A quiet frown at your reflection? Tugging at your shirt in the mirror? Zayne’s already there. He closes the mirror with a snap, tilts your chin up with steady fingers, and says, with unshakable certainty: “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” And with him, you know it’s the truth.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

- He’s completely fascinated by your body. Xavier watches you like he’s studying your curves for a thesis. When you shift beneath his gaze, he tilts his head, touches your belly or hips, and murmurs, “You’ve changed… I like it. You feel warmer.”

- He teases you when you’re curled up together. Lying on the couch with you wrapped in his arms, he strokes your sides and hums, “If you get any more spoiled, I might have to carry you everywhere.” Then he does, lifting you with ease and tucking you into bed like precious treasure.

- He falls asleep on your tummy constantly. It’s become his new favorite pillow. He curls up around you like a sleepy cat, arms snug around your waist, murmuring softly as he drifts off, “You’re softer now… don’t change it.”

- He buys you outfits that show off your new curves. Tailored gowns, soft clingy fabrics, elegant cuts that flatter everything. He brushes his fingers along the zipper and says, low and reverent, “If you’re mine… I want everyone to know it.”

- Your insecurity doesn’t compute. You say something like, “I think I gained weight,” and Xavier just blinks at you. “So?” he says plainly. “You’re mine either way. I don’t want you small. I want you happy.”

- He overfeeds you without realizing. Every slice of cake, every weird herbal drink he mixes for you, it’s all love. If you say no, he looks vaguely heartbroken. “Please,” he murmurs, coaxing the bite to your lips. “Just one more. You’ll like it.”

- He secretly memorizes every stretch mark. He kisses them like starlight, like they’re sacred constellations. Tracing them with his fingers, he whispers, “You changed for me… I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

- If anyone dares comment on your weight… Xavier goes still. Completely unreadable. He doesn’t react in front of you, but later, someone ends up quietly blacklisted, evicted, or vanishes entirely from the N109 registry. When you ask, he just hums, “Strange. People disappear all the time.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

- “Look at you.” That’s the first thing he says every morning, voice rough, amused, eyes glued to the way you stretch in bed beside him. His gaze lingers on your plush thighs under the satin sheets, your softened waist, the evidence of his spoiling. “You really have gotten spoiled, haven’t you?”

- He treats your weight gain like a divine achievement. He’ll lean back in his chair, wine in hand, watching you try on a new dress with a lazy, hungry smile. “You were beautiful when I met you. But now? Now you look like you belong to me.”

- He feeds you luxuries like a prince feeding a pet. Truffles, lavender tarts, honey-drenched pastries. He sits you in his lap during meetings, arms around your waist, lazily slipping bites between your lips. “Open up. Good girl.”

- He buys you tighter clothes on purpose. They’re supposedly tailored, but they always cling just a little too much at the hips, the chest. When you pout or tug at the fabric, he smirks. “Maybe I like watching you outgrow things. Makes me feel like I’m doing my job right.”

- He talks to your stomach in private. Especially after long, indulgent nights. He’ll press soft kisses to your belly, murmuring against your skin like it’s a prayer. “You take everything I give you so well. Look at how you’ve changed for me.”

- In public, he’s shamelessly possessive. His hand always rests over your stomach, arm snug around your waist. He makes sure people notice. Especially the ones who knew you when you were thinner. “Doesn’t she look divine?” he’ll ask, voice full of dangerous pride.

- He cuts off any insult with a smile like a blade. If anyone glances at your figure with even a hint of judgment, Sylus leans in close. “Careful,” he says smoothly. “Speak like that again and I’ll have you scrubbing sublevels in Zone K by morning.”

- Your softness is his favorite display of power. You didn’t get soft for anyone else, you got soft for him. And Sylus lives for it. His voice dips low with satisfaction every time he sees your curves catch the light. “Let them all see,” he murmurs. “You’re mine now. And it shows.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

- “I’ve been feeding you well, huh?” he teases, voice soft and full of pride. He wraps his arms around you from behind, presses a warm kiss to your neck, and gives your belly a gentle squeeze, like he’s proud of it. Like it means you’re finally his.

- He refuses to let you walk half the time. From bed to couch, to his ship’s quarters, Caleb just picks you up with no warning. “You’re not walking.” His voice leaves no room for argument. He’ll nuzzle your cheek and murmur, “You’ve gotten heavier. I love it.”

- He tucks snacks into your bag like a protective husband prepping for war. Your favorite cookies, soft milk drinks, sweet little pastries, he packs them before missions or errands. “Eat while I’m gone, okay?” he tells you. “I want you full when I get back.”

- He’s obsessed with you in his clothes. Especially when you’re lounging around in one of his Farspace shirts and it rides up just a little over your tummy. He’ll freeze mid-coffee, jaw slack. “Pips. Seriously. Come here. Right now.”

- He shuts down your insecurities fast. Call yourself too chubby? His expression hardens instantly. “Pips, i made you like this. You’re soft. You’re safe. You’re mine.” And then he’s pulling you into his lap, hand resting over your stomach like he’s guarding the most precious treasure in the universe.

- He maps your body like a star chart. Especially after showers or when you’re curled in bed, his fingers trace every curve, every mark, every soft place you’ve grown under his love. “I could spend forever learning this body,” he whispers, kissing your skin.

- He doesn’t tolerate a single word against you. One snide remark from a cadet and his smile vanishes. One glance from Caleb and that person is off the mission roster, probably reassigned to the worst post in orbit. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

- To him, your softness means you’re safe. You stopped running. You started resting. You let him take care of you. Every night before bed, he kisses your stomach like it’s holy. “Took you forever to let me love you, huh?” he whispers. “Look at you now.”

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katsbakugou · 11 days ago

Text

"Who did it?"

⋆☆　 ren kaji x fem!reader

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆　warning : metion of r*pe, violence, fighting, swearing, sexual assault, abuse, arguments, gang violence, smoking, angst to fluff, happy ending

•❣•୨୧　wc : 1k

-ˋˏ authors note : Hello everyone, Apologies for the delay in posting, life’s been a bit hectic lately, and I haven’t felt as motivated to write as I’d like. That said, I wanted to give a quick heads-up before you dive in: this story does contain themes of violence and other mature content. If that makes you uncomfortable in any way, I completely understand and encourage you to skip this one. You’ll also notice I’ve introduced a fictional group as part of the storyline, which I hope adds more depth to the narrative. I didn’t have time to do a full read-through, so parts of the story might feel a little rushed or uneven. Still, I wanted to share it with you all. I’m not entirely sure when I’ll post again, maybe I’ll disappear for a month (kidding… sort of). But in the meantime, I hope you enjoy the story. As always, if you have any questions, thoughts, or feedback, feel free to message me! Thanks again for reading and supporting my writing. Enjoy!🤍

Ren Kaji wasn’t the type to raise his voice—unless there was a reason. Calm yet commanding, he carried himself with quiet authority, holding the title of grade captain for the second years at Furin High School.

But beyond the classroom, his name carried weight for something else entirely—his strength. Feared and respected across the prefecture, Kaji wasn’t someone people dared to cross. And yet, beneath the layers of his reputation, there was one person who saw a different side of him—Y/n. A quiet, intelligent girl with a gentle heart. She was known not just for her good grades, but for being the only one Kaji ever let his guard down around. Y/n knew who he was—what he did. She knew about the fights, the danger, and the risks that came with being by his side. But every time, Kaji would reassure her in his quiet way: I’m okay. I’m safe. And for a while, she believed him. Until everything began to change. There were fewer hangouts now—less laughter, fewer moments that felt like theirs alone. It wasn’t neglect, not exactly… but something quieter. Something colder. A distance that crept in without warning. Y/n couldn’t quite place when things started shifting, or why. One day everything was fine. The next, Kaji was gone more than he was around. He spent more and more time with Enomoto and Kusumi, brushing her off with a casual, “I’ve got other priorities right now.” It stung—those words more than he probably realized. The silence that followed. The way his eyes stopped meeting hers the way they used to.

At first, it hurt. Deeply. But Y/n, ever understanding, tried to make peace with it. She told herself that he had responsibilities. That Furin wasn’t just a school—it was a shield for the people in their district. And Kaji wasn’t just her boyfriend. He was a protector. A leader. Someone others needed. So, piece by piece, she let him go. Even if her heart quietly ached every time he walked away. On one rare evening, Ren Kaji finally had time to spend with Y/n. The two sat quietly in her room, the soft hum of the fan filling the silence between their words. For a while, they just talked—lighthearted things, things that felt normal again. But Y/n couldn’t ignore the weight in her chest any longer. “Ren?” she asked gently, her voice shifting the atmosphere between them. He glanced over, resting back on his hands. “Hmm?” he hummed, signaling he was listening. She took a slow breath, trying to find the right words. “This has been on my mind for a while, but… you’ve been a lot busier than usual.” His expression changed immediately—his jaw tightened, and the warmth in his eyes flickered out. “Look, I already told you,” he said, his voice cooler than before. “I’m gonna be busy. You know how things are with Furin.” “I know that,” Y/n said softly, not backing down. “I understand what you’re doing. Helping the residents, fixing buildings, protecting the area… I respect that.” She paused, letting her words settle between them before continuing. “But would it be too much to ask… for a little of that time to be spent with me?” Her eyes searched his face, hoping he’d understand. Hoping he'd hear the quiet plea behind her words. Kaji scoffed under his breath and looked away. “Here we go again,” he muttered with a coldness that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I just want to see you more… that’s all,” Y/n sighed, her voice soft, almost pleading. Kaji leaned back with a scoff, his tone sharp. “Do you have to be so clingy?” Y/n froze. The word hit her like a slap—sharp, unexpected, and laced with something colder than she’d ever heard from him before. “Wait… what?” she blinked, stunned, her voice barely above a whisper. Kaji ran a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed. “What more do you want from me? I was lucky I didn’t have patrol today. I chose to spend it with you. Can’t you just be grateful for that?” The way he said it—like being with her was some burden—cut deeper than he realized. “Ren…” she started again, her voice shaking, trying to hold the pieces together. But he didn’t let her speak. “You’re annoying, I swear,” he snapped, rising to his feet. “Don’t you get it? Protecting this area—keeping things in check—that gives people here a chance at freedom. I don’t have time to babysit your feelings.” He turned to face her fully, eyes hard. “You’re so stuck up. Take the hint already—back the fuck off.” The words shattered her. Tears began to fall before she even realized she was crying. Her heart throbbed in her chest, the sting of his words echoing louder than the silence in the room. “There you go again,” Kaji muttered bitterly. “Crying like always.” He grabbed his jacket from the edge of her bed, and without another glance, walked out the door—just like that. Gone. Y/n stared at the space he left behind, her body trembling as her hand slowly moved to cover her mouth, trying to stifle the sob building in her throat. She wiped her cheeks, but the tears wouldn’t stop. No matter how many times she tried. She stood up on shaky legs, her breathing uneven as she stepped outside for air, hoping that somehow the night breeze would take the pain with it. But it didn’t.

As Y/n walked aimlessly through the dimly lit streets, the chill in the night air barely registered. Her mind was still spinning from earlier—Ren’s voice, his words, the way he left without looking back. Her heart felt heavy, her legs moving without purpose. That’s when she noticed them. A group of boys standing near the edge of the sidewalk, all wearing matching maroon jackets with a silver serpent curling across the back. They stepped into her path before she could cross the street. She froze. “Hey there, cutie,” one of them said, smirking. “Aren’t you Ren Kaji’s girl?” “Uh… yeah,” she answered, stiffening. Another boy chuckled and stepped closer. “Someone that pretty shouldn’t be out here all alone. It’s dangerous.” “You’re cute,” added a third, his long curly hair falling over his eyes as he reached out to touch her face. Y/n flinched back, voice tight. “Please… don’t touch me.” “Oh?” he grinned, voice thick with mockery. “Or what?” Without warning, his hand snapped around her throat.

Y/n gasped, her fingers scrambling to pull him off. “Stop!” she choked, her voice hoarse with panic. But he didn’t stop—he laughed, squeezing harder before shoving her with brutal force. She stumbled backward and crashed into the alley wall, her shoulder slamming the bricks. She let out a sharp cry as she crumpled to the ground. Pain exploded through her back, but before she could gather her breath, a heavy boot struck her ribs. “Stay down,” one of them hissed. Y/n groaned, arms instinctively wrapping around her sides as another kick landed—harder this time. “You’re nothing special without him around,” one sneered. She tried to scream, but a fist slammed into her jaw, snapping her head to the side. Her vision blurred. She tasted blood. “Look at her,” another sneered, grabbing the collar of her shirt. “Acting all high and mighty. Kaji’s little doll.” Y/n clawed at the hands tugging at her, nails scraping, teeth gritted. “Get off me!” But it only earned her a slap so hard her ears rang. She whimpered, barely able to move now. Her breath hitched as another hand grabbed her wrist and pinned her down. Her legs kicked out in desperation, but they were too many—too strong. “Let’s teach her what happens when a girl like her walks around alone,” one said darkly. Y/n’s throat tightened as her heart pounded wildly. Her voice, her fight, everything began to fade under the weight of their hands and the pounding in her head.

Her clothes were ripped off her body as she cried, the cold air biting at her exposed skin. She could feel the harsh pavement beneath her, her naked form trembling against the bitter night. Her sobs filled the alleyway, each one choking out of her throat as panic and shame consumed her. Before she could process the horror, she was being used—violated like she was nothing more than a toy. She screamed. Screamed from the pain. From the fear. From the helplessness of it all. “Stop!” she cried, her voice cracking. “Please—stop!” But they didn’t. It was happening, and she couldn’t stop it. Her body thrashed weakly, hands pushing against the weight holding her down, but her strength was gone—stolen along with everything else. And then—Right before the man could finish, his body jerked unnaturally. A sharp sound cut through the night—like a blow, heavy and fast. Before Y/n could even lift her head, the man came crashing down beside her with a sickening thud, the impact shaking the ground beneath her. Then silence. It all blurred. The pain. The cold. The shadows. The voices. Her sobs echoed one last time before her world faded into black.

As the man’s body hit the ground beside her, the sound of fast footsteps filled the alleyway. Sakura appeared first, fists clenched, eyes burning with fury. Without hesitation, he landed a brutal punch on one of the remaining men, sending him flying into the wall. The second barely had time to react before Hayato tackled him to the ground, while Nirei rushed in from behind. “Shit,” Sakura cursed under his breath, turning his head the moment his eyes caught Y/n’s exposed, trembling form on the pavement. “Hayato—do you have something? Anything I can cover her with?” Hayato didn’t hesitate. He tore off his school jacket and quickly draped it over Y/n’s body, shielding her as best he could from the cold and from prying eyes. “She’s freezing…” he muttered, his voice shaking. Meanwhile, Nirei pulled out his phone, fingers trembling as he dialed. The line clicked. “Kaji,” he said, his voice tight, urgent. “It’s Y/n. She’s… she’s badly injured. You need to come. Now.” There was a beat of silence on the other end—then the sound of Kaji’s sharp breath. He didn’t ask questions. He ran. By the time Kaji reached the hospital, his chest was heaving, sweat clinging to his skin. He burst through the entrance and followed the voices, turning corners in a panic until he saw her. Y/n. She was lying on a stretcher, barely conscious, her body wrapped in blankets and bandages. Tubes were connected to her arm, an oxygen mask gently pressed over her nose and mouth. Kaji stopped in his tracks. Everything inside him collapsed. The girl he once held, the girl who smiled even when he was at his worst—she was now motionless, her skin pale, her lips trembling from the cold and pain. His fists clenched as guilt choked him from the inside. He wasn't there.

Days went by, and Y/n still hadn’t woken up. She was lying in a hospital bed, completely still. Her face was swollen with deep bruises, her lip was cut and dry with blood, and faded handprints covered her arms and sides—ugly reminders of what had been done to her. Machines beeped quietly beside her, tubes hooked into her arms to keep her alive. Every time someone walked into the room, they had to prepare themselves to see her like that. Meanwhile, back at Furin High, something serious was going on. All the grade captains had been called to the rooftop—a place usually reserved for serious conversations and private meetings. The air was cold and tense, the wind pulling at their jackets, but no one seemed to care. Kaji sat near the railing, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes staring at the ground. He hadn’t spoken much all day. Not to his friends. Not even to himself. His thoughts were a mess of guilt, anger, and regret. Sakura stood next to him, arms crossed, facing the rest of the group.

Across from them stood Umemiya, the top-ranking captain in all of Furin. Everyone was waiting for answers. Sakura finally broke the silence. “It happened a few nights ago,” he said, his voice steady but full of frustration. “Y/n was walking alone when she got jumped. Three guys, all wearing those maroon jackets with the snake symbol on the back. The Serpents.” Umemiya narrowed his eyes. “Did you recognize any of them?” Sakura shook his head. “No, they ran before we could catch names. But we got two of them good. They won’t forget our faces.” Umemiya’s voice dropped. “And Kaji?” Sakura looked at Kaji, then back at Umemiya. “He wasn’t there.” Umemiya turned to Kaji. “How’s she doing?” Kaji finally looked up, his voice quiet and heavy. “Still in a coma. The doctors said there’s no way to tell when she’ll wake up… if she wakes up.” He paused. “She’s covered in bruises. She’s not the same.” Everyone was silent for a moment. Umemiya took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “The Serpents knew who she was. They didn’t just pick a random girl. They knew she was close to you."

Kaji’s jaw clenched. “They did it to get to me.” “They wanted to rattle us,” Umemiya said. “They wanted to send a message.” Kaji looked up, his eyes no longer full of guilt—but burning with something else. “Then let’s send one back.” Umemiya nodded slowly. “If we’re going to hit back, we do it right. No mistakes. No warnings.” Sakura stepped forward. “You already know I’m with you.” “So am I,” Hayato said, stepping up beside him. Kaji stood up, his voice low but clear. “They hurt her because of me. They wanted me to feel powerless.” He looked around at all of them. “I won’t let them get away with it.” The rooftop fell silent again—but it wasn’t the quiet of hesitation.

Furin didn’t wait. They stormed the Serpents' warehouse with fire in their eyes and vengeance in their veins. The moment they kicked open the doors, the Serpents turned their heads, surprised—but not afraid. Not yet. The large space was dimly lit, packed with crates, broken furniture, and graffiti-covered walls. It reeked of smoke and arrogance. “Look what we got here,” a voice rang out from the back of the room. Iyano—the same man Sakura had knocked out days ago—stepped forward with a cocky grin on his face. He wiped his nose and chuckled darkly. “Didn’t think you'd have the guts to show up.” He spread his arms like he was welcoming guests to a party. “Welcome to our turf—The Serpents,” he smirked. “Iyano, leader, in case anyone forgot.” His eyes locked onto Kaji. “Well, well… look who it is. Kaji himself,” Iyano said with a wicked grin. “How’s your little girlfriend doing?” He let out a mocking laugh. “She made a lot of noise that night. Thought someone would’ve trained her better.” Kaji’s entire body tensed. His jaw clenched. His fists curled. His teeth gritted so hard it hurt. “Don’t—” Hiragi stepped in, placing a hand on Kaji’s chest before he could move. Umemiya stepped forward, his voice like thunder. “What you did to her was disgusting. You think you’re tough? That hurting a girl makes you strong?” Iyano raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“What are you gonna do? Lecture me?” He leaned forward, his smile twisted. “You should be thanking me for breaking her in. Bet Kaji didn’t even get the chance.” Kaji lunged. “Watch your mouth, you sick bastard—!” But again, Hiragi held him back, this time harder. “Not yet,” he growled under his breath. “We do this right.” Kaji’s eyes burned with fury. His breathing was sharp and fast, his hands shaking with rage. But he held it down—for now. Umemiya’s voice cut through the heat. “You wanted us to come. Congratulations—you got our attention.” His eyes scanned the Serpents. “You laid hands on someone we protect. Now we’re here to collect the price.” “Price?” Iyano scoffed, letting out a laugh thick with venom. “That’s funny.” He looked around at the Furin boys with a sick grin stretched across his face. “Your price is already in the hospital.” The words cut deep. Mocking. Cruel. He laughed again—louder this time, like it was all one big joke to him. But that laugh didn’t last long. Because in the blink of an eye, Kaji moved. Faster than anyone expected. Before Iyano could finish that laugh, Kaji was already in front of him—and with one explosive punch, he slammed Iyano’s face straight into the concrete floor. The impact echoed through the warehouse like a gunshot. CRACK.

Blood sprayed. Bones shifted. Iyano’s body collapsed, stunned and twitching on the ground. Everyone froze. Kaji stood over him, chest rising and falling in sharp, furious breaths. His knuckles were red, his face tight with rage, but his voice—when it finally came—was low, cold, and terrifyingly steady. “You talk about her again, and I swear I won’t stop at just your face.” Iyano groaned, struggling to lift his head, but Kaji grabbed him by the collar and lifted him halfway off the ground. “She’s lying in that hospital bed because of you. You think this is over?” He slammed him back down again—hard. “It’s just starting.” Behind him, Furin spread out. Sakura, Umemiya, Hiragi, and the rest stepped forward, fists tightening, eyes set on the rest of the Serpents.

The streets were quiet, but Kaji’s mind was still loud. Bruised knuckles. Blood crusted on his shirt. The adrenaline hadn’t fully left his system yet. Beside him, Umemiya cracked his neck. Hiragi wiped the side of his lip with the back of his sleeve. No one said much. Not after a fight like that. They walked in silence—Kaji, Umemiya, Hiragi, Sakura, Hayato… the rest of Furin trailing behind like a broken shadow. The school gates were just ahead when Kaji’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t think much of it at first. Just another call. Another noise. But the second he answered and that unfamiliar voice spoke, something in him shifted. “Hello, is this Kaji Ren?” He slowed down. “…Yeah?” The voice didn’t hesitate. “Y/n Y/l/n just woke up. She’s asking for you.” His heart dropped. He stopped walking. Everyone else did too. No one moved. No one spoke. The call was already over before anyone could ask what happened. Kaji’s legs were moving before his brain could catch up. Sprinting. Fast. Wild. He didn’t even think—he just ran. Umemiya followed. Then Enomoto. Kusumi. Sakura. Nirei. Hayato. Hiragi. All of them. No hesitation. No questions. Just the sound of their footsteps pounding against the pavement, the wind ripping through their jackets, and the rush of something way heavier than just fear.

The hospital doors slammed open. Kaji didn’t wait for directions—he didn’t need them. His feet carried him through the halls like they had a mind of their own. The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears louder than his footsteps, louder than the voices behind the nurses' desks yelling at him to slow down. He didn’t. He shoved the door open without knocking. And there she was. Y/n. Sitting up in bed, hair slightly tangled, the window beside her cracked open just enough for the wind to thread through her strands, making them dance softly around her face. She looked small. Bruised. Faded… like someone had dimmed her light. Kaji froze. “Baby?” his voice cracked, barely even a whisper. She turned. Slowly. Her eyes found him—and even though one of them was still darkened from the bruising, they lit up the second she saw him. “Ren…” she said, voice dry, weak, but real. He rushed forward—no hesitation—closing the space between them in seconds. He dropped to his knees beside her bed, arms wrapping around her so tightly that if he let go, she’d disappear. Her body shook as the first sob slipped from her lips. “I was so scared,” Y/n whimpered, her breath catching on every word. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” Kaji pulled her in closer, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping the back of her hospital gown. “Shhh… I know, baby. I know,” he whispered, his tears slipping down without permission. “I’m here now. I’m here.” He stroked her hair with such care like she’d break if he wasn’t gentle enough. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, over and over again. “I’m so sorry for what I said to you. I’m sorry I left. I should’ve never—God, I’m so sorry, baby…” His voice cracked again, and this time he didn’t hold it in. He cried with her. Hard. At the doorway, Umemiya stood still—arms crossed, jaw tight. The rest of Furin lingered behind him. Not one of them dared to speak. Not one of them looked away.

A few weeks passed and finally—Y/n was home. The hospital room was replaced by her familiar bedroom walls. The air was softer here, calmer. Her bruises were still there but faded now—like leftover brushstrokes of a fight that didn’t quite win. Her right eye was healing, though still puffy and stubborn like it had an attitude of its own. And yet, here she was—alive, home, safe. Kaji lay on her bed with one hand tucked behind his head, the other gently stroking her hair. Y/n rested against his chest, eyes closed, arms lazily draped over his stomach. The fan above them spun in slow circles, and for the first time in a long time, things didn’t feel like they were crashing. They were still. “Baby?” Kaji said softly, breaking the silence. “Mmm?” Y/n replied, not opening her eyes. “I’m sorry I said those things…” he began, voice unsure, like the words were heavy in his mouth. “You’re not clingy. Or annoying. Or stuck up.” She kept her eyes closed, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “You’re perfect for me,” he continued. “And let’s be real—I’m the clingy one. The annoying one. Probably the most dramatic one, too. I mean, I can’t go ten minutes without texting you. I start dying inside when you leave me on read." Y/n chuckled softly, turning her face more into his chest. “You are dramatic. Like, weirdly dramatic.” “I’m emotionally passionate,” he defended. “You’re a theater kid in denial,” she shot back, laughing. Kaji rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Okay, fine. Whatever. But seriously… I get it. You were always patient with me, and I wasn’t giving the same energy. I was so caught up in handling Furin, the district, and keeping up that whole ‘2nd years grade captain’ image—I forgot I already had someone worth fighting for outside of all that.” Y/n finally looked up at him. “Ren, I never wanted you to stop being you. I know you’ve got responsibilities. I’m not asking for you 24/7—just… maybe a text now and then that says, ‘Hey I didn’t die today, hope you didn’t either.’ You know. The basics.” Kaji laughed. “Alright, noted. Add ‘send daily survival texts’ to the relationship list.” “But seriously,” she said, her voice softening, “It just sucked feeling like I was alone. Like I was in the relationship by myself.” His face fell a little. “I know. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I am,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “And I know just saying sorry doesn’t make it magically better. So I’m gonna prove it. I’ll make it up to you, even if you throw stuff at me and ban me from your room for a month.” “That is tempting…” she teased. “Oh, come on,” he groaned dramatically. “I poured my soul out like I’m in a sad music video and you’re gonna threaten to ban me?” “Yup. Because you were a major jerk.” “Ugh.” Kaji flopped back on the bed. “I already apologized like five hundred times!” “And it still won’t cover how much of a flaming jerk you were,” she smirked, sitting up and crossing her arms like a queen ready to sentence him. “You’re evil,” he said, eyes narrowed.

“True.” She flipped her hair. “But lovable.” He sat up, staring at her with mock betrayal. “So you’re saying I basically have to beg for forgiveness?” “Beg. Crawl. Whimper a little,” she shrugged. “Maybe do that pouty face I like.” Kaji squinted. “The one you said was ‘weirdly hot’ when I’m mad?” “Exactly.” “Unbelievable.” Kaji lunged forward and tackled her onto the bed. “REN—!” she screeched mid-laugh as he started tickling her sides mercilessly. “This is what flaming jerks do!” he declared as she flailed. “We tickle our enemies into forgiveness!” “STOP—! I’M GONNA PEE ON MYSELF!” He paused, hands in mid-air. “...Ew. Okay, no thanks.” She gasped for air, face red from laughing, and smacked his chest. “You’re insane.” “You love it.” “Debatable.” “Oh yeah?” He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. “Still debating now?" Y/n grinned, her hand reaching up to hook around his neck. “Mmm… maybe.” He kissed her softly, slower this time. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “I love you too,” she whispered back. He pulled her closer, forehead pressed to hers, arms wrapped around her waist like she was something precious. “I really am sorry,” he murmured again, voice gentler now. She smiled, kissing him once more. “It’s okay. Just don’t screw it up again, dummy.” Kaji laughed. “I won’t.” She snuggled into him, her eyes finally growing heavy. “You better not.” And just like that, she fell asleep in his arms, breathing slow and steady—while he lay there holding her like she was his whole world. And maybe she was.

#ren kaji x reader angst #anime #anime angst #wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x you #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker x gender neutral reader #ren kaji #ren kaji x reader #ren kaji x you #kaji ren #kaji ren x reader #kaji ren x you #kaji x reader #wind breaker ren kaji

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enyaliuswrites · 4 months ago

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➽ Chasing the One Who Hunts

Prince!Caleb x Spy!fem reader 100 followers special. 2.11k words.

Prince LADS Masterlist

Prince!Caleb, who’s a great prince. An awesome prince, actually. As commander of the royal army, he’s a force on the battlefield, but it’s his warmth that truly wins hearts. Everyone knows him—not just as the prince, but as someone who’s been there for the people. He cooks with grandmothers on weekends, tutors children, and plays with them in the streets.

Prince!Caleb, who isn’t even the crown prince but others call him otherwise. His older brother drowns himself in sorrow and indulgence, while Caleb carries the weight of the royal family’s expectations. From the moment he could remember, his parents boasted of his greatness, and he refused to let anyone call them liars. So he proved every single boast of their right.

'Caleb will be the finest swordsman in the kingdom.' So he became one. 'Caleb will be the sharpest strategist.' So he mastered the art of war. 'Caleb will be the greatest king our bloodline has ever seen.' Well… he’d make sure of it.

Prince!Caleb, who’s loved by everyone, except for his mother. Why? Because he’s turning down every single marriage proposal that his mother has arranged for him. Whether it’s making himself seem unappealing, disappearing at the last minute, or simply refusing to acknowledge her existence, he’ll do whatever it takes to avoid wasting time on someone he doesn’t care for.

Prince!Caleb, who sees through every smile and flattering word. Women approach him with hopes of securing a life of comfort by his side, while men seek his favor to leech off his power and wealth. No one comes to him without a hidden motive, and that’s exactly why he despises them all. Yes, he’s a prince and yes, he fulfills his duty immaculately. But that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy every single moment of it.

Prince!Caleb, who is now forced to take a bride. His mother refused to let him enter his fourth decade without a partner to care for him, to continue the bloodline. Yet as he stands in front of the five chosen candidates, he can’t help but feel disgusted by them. He keeps it well-hidden, of course, but the truth is clear to him. Anyone who made it this far—who survived the brutal selection process—had to be ruthless, calculating, and dangerously skilled. And that is what he hated.

Prince!Caleb, who recognizes one of the brides as the same woman he had once bumped into on the street and given his cloak to cover a water stain on her clothing. The coincidence is too perfect, too convenient. As he studied you standing in front of him he knew something was wrong. So, to be sure, he decided to keep you close. And before long, his suspicions were confirmed—his first impression of you had been right all along. That you were indeed a spy from the enemy kingdom.

You never thought that it would work out. Well, you had a lot of hope but hoping isn’t the same as being a hundred percent sure. So when the prince chose you to be his bride you felt your heart skip a beat. The wedding was a big ceremony and you would’ve been happy if it weren’t for some familiar faces that you saw in the crowd. The reminder that you still weren’t free. And that’s what drove you to complete this mission. Your last mission.

The blueprints of the castle and Caleb's life.

But staring at his peaceful undisturbed face now made you have second guesses. The way his hair barely covered his eyes, how he held you close and how his chest slowly raised and fell from his breath. He had treated you nothing but the absolute best.

He had never overstepped any boundaries. Gave you his cloak, the cloak that only the royal family could wear even before your marriage. Made sure he always had time for you. He remembered the flowers you adored, the dishes you savored, the clothing you preferred. It was as if he completed you in ways you had and hadn’t realized you were missing.

“Morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?” His gravelly voice pulls you back to the present, and you find yourself smiling at him. His lilac eyes glinted in the sunlight as his lips curled into a smile—one that actually reached his eyes, unlike the practiced ones he gives to the public. And that’s what distracted you. As a spy, reading people is second nature, so realizing that Caleb only ever smiled like this around you… it cracked something in your resolve.

“I slept fine. You?” Your voice comes out calm, but softer and higher than usual. Something about being near Caleb makes your stomach flip and your heart race—and that terrified you.

“I had a nightmare that I lost you. But other than that I slept fine.” He glances up at the towering castle ceilings, his eyes narrowing as if lost in thought. Then, just as quickly, he turns back to you with those big, pleading eyes locking onto yours. “Not even a little comfort? I’m suffering here.”

Caleb's bottom lip jutted out in a subtle pout as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping securely around your smaller frame. In that moment, you weren’t sure whether you wanted to strangle him or yourself—maybe both. But instead, you just sighed and held him tighter, letting the silence speak for itself.

The grey feathers of the pigeon were getting everywhere as it flapped its wings furiously on your window sill as if to say “What’s taking so long, woman?!” Some were scattered on your clothes and the wooden window sill, while some was on the floor inside the room.

The letter had arrived three weeks ago, setting this day as the moment to send the castle’s blueprints to your kingdom. Yet, instead of acting, you found yourself staring out the window for hours. The messenger bird shifted restlessly, growing impatient with your hesitation. The blank piece of paper you held in your hand felt a lot heavier than it was supposed to be and even with the bird pecking your hand you couldn’t bring yourself to draw or write anything on it.

It wasn’t your fault though. How could it be? They never taught you to not fall in love, only how to lie, deceive and kill. You had tried to ignore this gnawing feeling for months but now you had to face it head on. You were falling for Caleb. No. That’s wrong.

You’ve already fallen for Caleb.

And hard too.

That’s exactly what Caleb had wanted. Of course all of the good things he did for you he did it to gain your trust but he would be a liar if he said that he hadn’t fallen for you too.

Caleb's lilac eyes looked through a crack in the open door, waiting to see what you’d do. Just the hesitation alone made his heart skip several beats. However, one thing was certain. Even if you did betray him then that’d be fine because either way you’re always going to be by his side and he'd make sure of that.

A smile has been etched on his face for the longest time ever since he’s met you. From out of intrigue to tolerance to obsession love. So when he saw you crumple the paper and shove it in your pocket this was the first time he stopped smiling. He didn’t know how to process these emotions. He had never loved someone romantically before and now he felt like he could run around the entirety of his kingdom.

As the door creaks open and your eyes meet his, he swears his breath catches in his throat. Gods, how do you always look so effortlessly beautiful? Caleb needs to add to his to-do list to have scientists study you.

“Wha’cha up to?” he asks, stepping closer, your scent flooding his senses and scrambling his thoughts. His lips curl into a smile, his eyes gleaming with that look of love you knew all too well. He should probably check if your perfume contains some kind of drug—because to him, you’re an addiction he can never get enough of.

“I found this poor injured bird. Was just about to help nurse it back to health.” Caleb swore he could get lost in those eyes of yours that told stories your words didn’t. Then he notices the messenger bird in your hands. Its leg, now broken, twitches as it struggles weakly. His chest tightens. Did you just break its leg the moment he stepped in? Had you really reacted that fast to cover your tracks?

That was hot.

“Poor little guy. I know he’ll get better, especially with you looking after him.” He flashes you a wink and you give him a small smile. You offer him a small smile in return, your mind still racing. It had been a split-second decision—one you had to make to keep yourself from being discovered. Lowering your gaze to the pigeon in your hands, you gently stroke its head. It coos in protest, a small, irritated sound, but you keep your touch light, masking the tension thrumming beneath your skin.

“Did you need something-”

Caleb was already standing in front of you, his expression strangely unnatural—one you couldn't recall ever seeing before, yet it felt eerily familiar. He leaned in, his breath ghosting against your ear as he whispered words that sent a shiver down your spine and turned your blood to ice.

“Go on, send a message. Try to run. Try anything you want. It won’t change a thing... because you belong here. With me. Always.”

And that’s when you realized—this wasn’t new. That dangerous look had always been there, hidden behind every soft smile, every lingering touch.

Prince!Caleb, who gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead and leaves the room like nothing had happened. The prince goes on with his day as you spend most of the time acting like everything was fine when you felt like breaking down. By the time you meet for supper you’re not sure what to do or say.

Prince!Caleb, who eats his supper as usual, his eyes stealing glances at you as you continuously lock eyes with him. You open your mouth to speak, to ask what the heck is going on and what he was going to do with you. Torture? But he interrupts you, urging you to eat. The two of you don’t talk until just before bed when you try to ask again but he shuts you up with a kiss.

Prince!Caleb, who continues to treat you like the same, however this time it feels like he’s clingier than usual, quickly finishing his duties and coming over to you. After multiple failed attempts of talking about what had happened that day the perfect opportunity finally presented itself as you asked him about what was going to happen to you on a random morning.

Prince!Caleb, who yawns before bursting out into laughter. The sound bounces off the walls and before you would’ve laughed too but now your guard is at its highest. The prince kisses your hand before saying not to worry about a thing and that he loves you before getting up and getting ready for the day.

Prince!Caleb, who you’ve learned to live with like this. He never brings it up again, never speaks of what you both know to be true. But you’re certain of one thing: he’s pulling strings to keep you alive. If they truly believed you had betrayed them, they would have sent spies to kill you by now. And they had—many times. But the only real danger you’d ever faced was the glint of Caleb's blade, cutting them down before they could even dare to look at that stunning face of yours.

Prince!Caleb, who swore that he would kill as many people as he had to, as long as that meant you were safe. Your hands were already stained with enough blood—so he would bear the burden for you. But then, one night, the blade meant for him finds its mark. He bleeds, and for the first time, you’re the one cutting down his enemy, the one keeping him alive.

Prince!Caleb, who has fought by your side ever since that day—though it took countless arguments and stubborn persuasion. His lilac eyes always find yours on the battlefield, a silent promise woven into every glance. And if you so much as stub your toe, he’ll have soldiers drag you back to safety if they must. Because to him, no victory, no kingdom, no war will ever matter more than you.

A/N: Ya'll do not know how sorry I am. ITS BEEN 4 NEARLY 5 DAYS UGH. I love all of you so much and thank you for 196 followers oh my god. I swear it was only 160 something when I started this special. This Caleb writing had been so fun to write and I think I went a tad bit crazy. Thank you all again so much :,)) <333

Dividers by @mikeykuns

#enyaliuswrites #enyalius 100 followers special #love and deepspace #lads x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads fluff #lads x you #l&ds #caleb fluff #caleb x reader #caleb x you #xia yizhou x reader #xia yizhou

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mommyownsmee · 7 months ago

Text

About how I learned to love Brats, Pillow Princess behaviour & the Art of Dominance

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot. Something in the way I think changed.

Every Submissive always talks about being a “good girl”—doing what makes the Dom/me happy, always being obedient and eager to learn. I used to think that is the way it always has to be. Used to. For over ten years as a Domme, I thrived on that concept: A “good girl” has to follow rules and submit without hesitation. For years, I thought that was the pinnacle of submission.

But the thing about power is that it evolves. True power doesn’t stay stagnant—it grows, adapts, and deepens with experience. Over time, I’ve come to realize that submission is more nuanced than a simple checklist of behaviors. It’s raw, alive, and deeply personal. Submission isn’t about perfection. It’s really all about connection.

For years, I believed brattiness in every way always needed to be corrected. To me, it once felt like resistance, a flaw, or a rebellion that threatened the structure of the dynamic. But now, I see it differently. Now, I see it as a form of self-expression. A way for my submissive to show her fire, her confidence, and her trust in me.

Yes, trust. Because it takes trust to push boundaries. It takes trust to tease, to play, and to challenge the person who holds the power. And when my submissive does that—when she smirks and says, “Mommy, I’m the most beautiful girl in the world, aren’t I? Others must have it really hard, not being as perfect as me,” or when she pouts and demands, “Mommy, I want it because I deserve it”—I don’t see rebellion anymore.

I see confidence. I see life. I see a woman who knows her worth and isn’t afraid to own it.

And it’s sexy. Damn sexy.

Bratty behavior doesn’t weaken the dynamic. It strengthens it. It adds layers, complexity, and depth. It turns submission into a dance—a playful, sensual exchange of power where no one is truly in control except for me. And yet, her fire ignites something primal in me. It keeps me sharp, keeps me present, and keeps our connection electric.

Being a Domme for over a decade has taught me that dominance isn’t just about control. It’s about responsibility in a other way than I thought it is. It’s about seeing my submissive for who she is—not just the quiet, obedient girl who kneels perfectly at my feet, but the playful, demanding princess who knows what she deserves and isn’t afraid to say it.

Why should I suppress that part of her? Why should I try to mold her into someone different and docile when her strength and confidence are what make her so captivating?

When she teases me, when she pushes the boundaries, it’s not defiance. It’s trust. She knows I’m strong enough to handle it, to match her energy, to guide her through it without breaking her spirit. That’s the real power of dominance—not in silencing her, but in allowing her to roar, knowing I’ll hold her steady when she’s ready to submit.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to put in the effort sometimes. Of course she does. Submission is a two-way street. There are moments when she needs to kneel, to focus, to give herself fully to me. But those moments don’t need to be constant. Submission isn’t about perfection—it’s about authenticity.

Some nights, she doesn't want to exert any strength. She wants to be my Pillow Princess, indulgent and adored. And why shouldn’t she? Why should she always have to work for my approval when my love for her is unconditional?

I’m the Domme. It’s my responsibility to take care of her.

When she looks at me with that confident sparkle in her eyes and says, “Mommy, I deserve to be treated like the princess I am,” not a single muscle in my face flinches—even though my heart skips a beat every time.

“Oh, is that so, my darling?” I ask, leaning forward, my voice soft but commanding. My thumb brushes over her lower lip, and I lock my gaze on hers. “Then show me how much you deserve it.”

She melts, every time. It’s a game we play, a game of confidence and submission, of power and vulnerability. She knows I’ll always win, but she also knows I love the fire in her eyes when she dares to try.

Her brattiness doesn’t threaten my dominance. It enhances it. It reminds me of why I do this—why I’ve spent over a decade mastering the art of control, not to break someone, but to guide them. To make them feel safe, cherished, and understood.

When I pull her close, kiss her hair, and promise her that she’ll get everything she deserves, it’s not just words. It’s a vow. A vow to build her up, to nurture her, and to remind her every single day that she’s mine.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow, she’ll kneel. Not just because I demand it, but because she craves and wants it. Because submission is her gift to me, and my gift to her is the freedom to express it in all its forms—bratty, playful, vulnerable, and fierce.

That’s the beauty of our dynamic. It’s not rigid or predictable. It’s alive, pulsing with energy, passion, and trust. And as her Domme, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

For me, there’s nothing more intoxicating than that.

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chaotic-fandom-writer · 2 months ago

Note

heya how’s you doing plz do a yandere alastor x doe reader breeding kink fic if you are comfortable with it have a blessed day 🥰

Alastor, Deer!

Requested by @toydynesianimation13 Thank you for your request!

Warnings: SMUT! Heavy cursing, breeding kink, ADULT THEMES, 18+

🚫MINORS DNI🚫❗❗18+❗ADULT CONTENT ❗❗

"Alastor, dear?"

You call out, looking around the hotel for Alastor, but he seems to be out at the moment. You give a little pout, wondering where he could've gone without you.

"I think he went shopping. All he said was he had to pick up a few things." Charlie steps in now, putting a hand on your shoulder.

Your doe-like ears droop slightly. "He knows I always like to go with him!" You pout. Vaggie walks up with a smirk on her face.

"I don't know, I think he mentioned something about a sur-OOF!" Vaggie is cut off by a swift elbow to the ribcage from Charlie. She shakes her head sternly at Vaggie. Your ears perk up.

"A surprise?" You say, your little deer tail beginning to wag behind you.

"No! Nothing like that, nothing at all. I think Vaggie is confused." She gives Vaggie a pointed look, to which Vaggie begins to nod.

"Yup, that's right, I'm just confused. Ignore me." She gives a nervous giggle.

You furrow your eyebrows. "Well.. alright then." You head back up to your room.

Maybe an hour later, Alastor walks into the room with his usual bright grin. "Well hello my dear!" You jump up.

"Alastor! Where did you go? I've been so terribly lonely without you!" You run up and throw your arms around his neck. He chuckles, patting your back and nuzzling his face into your hair.

"I was out getting a few things for us dear."

"Like what? Why couldn't I go with you?"

"Because, darling, it was a surprise! But now I can show you." He pulls a back from behind his back, emptying the contents onto the coffee table.

Out pours black leather handcuffs, a blindfold, and some lube. You feel your heart skip a beat, and your face flush red.

"Oh.. hehe, Alastor, I didn't realize this is what you had in mind."

"Well dear, here's the thing. You've been so good, to me, and for me. I think it's time I properly claimed you as my own."

You furrow your brow in confusion. "What do you mean? You know I'm yours, and besides, we've had sex loads of times already before."

He chuckles. "No my dear, I mean it's time for me to breed you."

Your face goes bright red. "B-Breed me?!"

"Yes, darling, unless of course you have any objections?"

You ponder the idea for a moment - being Alastor's one and only, carrying his child, having a family with him. The thought doesn't disgust you, it just makes you a bit nervous - understandably so.

He walks up, putting his arms around your shoulders and stroking your hair. "I would never make you do anything you don't want to, you know that, right dear?"

You look up at him, a big smile on your face. "Of course my love! Let's do it! I'm happy to." His grin somehow manages to get wider, his eyes lighting up.

"Well then, darling.. lay down." His tone changes, suddenly less soft, and much more powerful, and commanding. His presence seems to fill the room.

You obey, laying back on the bed. He handcuffs you to the head board, then slips the mask over your eyes. "Just for a little extra.. fun." He whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your body.

You can't lie, you're excited, anticipating what he will do next. You hear quiet for a moment, then suddenly, you feel his cold, calculating hand slowly run up your thigh, reaching your waist band. He pulls your pants off, followed by your underwear. You hear a deep breath.

"My my.. you are beautiful, dear."

You can feel yourself blush at his words, but before you can reply, you suddenly feel a cool wetness lapping at your pussy.

"Oh.. oh fuck!" You moan loudly, caught by surprise at the sensation of him devouring you, with such skill and precision.

"Delicious.." He whispers before diving back in for more, his tongue expertly flicking along your clit and up your slits.

Your body squirms at the sensation, moans and whimpers escaping your mouth. You tug at the handcuffs, with the desire to grab a fistful of his hair, but alas, you're restrained, at his mercy.

He stops suddenly, earning a whimper from you. He chuckles.

"Now, now, dear.. have some patience like a good girl."

"Yes, sir." You whimper back. You feel a hand stroke your face. "Good.. good girl."

Suddenly, before you know it, you feel Alastor climb on top of you, his bare skin up against yours. He must have stripped already, you think to yourself excitedly.

"Ready my love?" He asks. You nod eagerly, ready to take everything he has to offer you.

"Good girl." Is all he says before he pushes himself inside of you. He starts to thrust slowly at first, before picking up in speed.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck!" You moan out, throwing your head back at the pleasure you feel, thrusting your hips up to meet with his own.

He grabs you by the hair, still fucking you vigorously, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. He suddenly bites down, hard, leaving a well-sized imprint of his teeth.

You moan at this, your hands tugging again at the handcuffs, wanting to wrap around his shoulders.

"Ah ah.. be good." He whispers, then thrusts again, harder and faster.

You nearly see stars, your eyes rolling back into your head from the pleasure you feel. Though you can't see or touch anything, it almost makes it better, it makes you focus fully on the sensations coming from below.

"Here it comes love.."

With one final thrust, Alastor's hips connect with yours, spilling his seed deep inside you. You can feel the way his cock twitches, happy to have its release. You groan loudly, feeling him fill you up.

You both lay there for a moment, panting heavily. Finally, you feel Alastor pull his body off yours, sticky with sweat. You can feel him spilling out of you down below, sending tingles of pleasure through your body.

He removes your blindfold, and you're greeted by his smiling face, still flushed. He uncuffs you.

"Well, my dear, you did excellent. I hope you're prepared for more of that in the future."

He crawls into the bed next to you. You snuggle into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I can't wait."

I hope you enjoyed! ❤️

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decadentbearmusic · 3 months ago

Text

My last patrol was 14 months ago. The last time I held a rifle was 6 months ago. I don't know if I'm MIA, KIA, or still on active duty in my old unit. I guess it doesn't really matter either way; the postal censors don't even check the status of draftees before they write the letters home.

"Miss you Ma, sure is cold, keep fighting the good fight." Yeah fucking right.

I got out before the big offensive to take Linea Kennet. They had to triple the number of MPs just to get enough bodies to the front. My whole unit got lost in the mix, stationed at some staging area for a week while command tried to get everyone in position for the push. With so many suits going through, it was easy to slip away from the barracks and bullshit my way past the MPs. They were mostly going after the scared ones, soldiers trying to sneak around and lost warmies.

"Orders from SGT. whoever, reporting to Station wherever," was enough to make them look past me to the next poor fuck.

It didn't take me more than a day to find a ghost unit. They were "stationed" at a tunnel junction, guarding nothing, just like every other unit. Had a mess hall, barracks, loading dock, even a command tent with a captain. No idea if the guy was really a captain or not, but he had the uniform and a clipboard. I think they might have even been doing real work, routing supplies through the tunnels. But not a single guy there had any orders. Half the unit were fixers, and the faces changed every day.

I spent a week there learning the game, figuring out how to move around the backline without getting stopped by MPs. A lot of the guys there would give you rations or stims for nothing, they had sources that could get as much as they wanted. Some of the vets had been there for years, but I wasn't going to stick around that close to the surface.

Packed some gear and headed deeper, following the freshest route I could get. The cracks in the transport routes and the unauthorized mole tunnels get patched constantly by the maintenance crews. Moles dig new ones as soon as the old ones freeze. Let me tell you, you don't want to be in one when it gets flooded. You could be frozen in there for weeks before your suit gives out. Turns out my route wasn't really good for shit, and I ended up hiking down there for two weeks, looking for passages behind loose panels and tunnels where the signs didn't match up with the official maps. I had been out of rations for two days when I stumbled into the enclave.

I held onto the rifle for a while. Didn't feel whole without it. But there's no one to shoot down here, and if some CO or MP comes down here, not having my service weapon isn't going to stop a court martial. Not that they'd get this far before a rebel guard took them out. I traded the rifle for some tools and a better bunk.

I haven't seen Jove since I skipped my unit. It's kind of fucked up, but I miss the Eye, even though all it ever did was watch us get torn to shreds on the ice.

#ice war #europa ice war #europan ice war #war forever

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imagine-horizons · 2 months ago

Text

Breaking Rules

warning: a little bit spicy at the end , but mostly fluff - 18+ just in case - this one is a little long

pairing: Beckman x f!reader - age gap (reader in 30s, with post time skip Beckman)

description : Drabble about your growing relationship with Beckman, and it leads to a heated, intimate moment that crossed the lines you set for yourself

You were sitting on Beckman’s lap in the corner of a very busy bar, crowded with customers , pirates and civilians alike.

The noise and traffic hid the two of you for him to give you his undivided attention. He had one arm wrapped around your waist, and both of your hands rested on his chest as he teased you slowly. Shanks had managed to draw the rest of his crew’s attention away from you, but a wide grin was plastered on his face. He had let out a “finally” to his First Mate who ignored him as Beckman diverted all his attention to you.

How did it escalate to this?

————

The Red Pirates frequented into town on a regular basis as a port for supply restock. You had caught the eye of the First Mate, which you had never imagined in a million years, because of the age difference between you.

You worked at the local bar, waiting on tables as one of the few waitresses. The owner definitely monopolized on your talent of charming new and returning customers, locals, visitors and pirates alike into his establishment. He would purposely extend your shift longer, with the promise of a bonus which he honoured , willingly or unwillingly when you prompted him.

To you, it was just a job. You never crossed any boundaries, and made sure everyone was within an arm’s length, redirecting unwanted contact.

But you were always on edge - a forced smile or laughter, always looking over your shoulder when you left and took detours to make sure no one followed you back home. A knife holstered to your leg, hidden by the folds of your long skirts, and another tucked in the top of your boot.

But somehow, you couldn’t resist Beckman. You felt safe with him and the Red Pirates when they arrived.

There was no contact with him. You couldn’t help be drawn to Beckman’s quiet but commanding presence, and entranced by his steel observant gaze. From the moment you first waited on their table, it felt natural and easy being around them. Beckman was a man of few words - he would nod his thanks when you refilled his tankard without him asking. You would serve him and Shanks first, and made sure their crew got first priority. His gaze would follow you, as you worked the night. The bar was more controlled around you when they were in town, as if no one dare try their hand to touch you , or let their hungry gaze linger on you for too long.

You had heard of Haki - an extraordinary ability used by strong warriors and the strongest of them, could bring fleets of men and monsters to their knees.

You were sure, that the First Mate was one of them.

Over time , your interactions with Beckman increased, where he would even walk you home at the end of your shift, while most of his crew were sleeping off a hangover. There was no expectation of anything beyond an escort.

But soon, you became bolder with the attention he gave you. You broke the rule that you had set for yourself.

No customer relationships. No contact.

Your hand would glide across his shoulders in a fleeting motion after you set down his order. You would meet his gaze longer than you would anyone else. One time , you leaned close to his ear, your hand resting on his bicep and the other on his shoulder, asking him if they needed more refills on drinks.

You would never ask that - you would just do it. But now you would create any chance to touch the First Mate.

When you chatted with the crew and listened to their stories, you would be standing next to Beckman who would be sitting on one of the bar stools. You would leanagainst the bar counter top, and his arm would drap behind you. Hidden from everyone else’s view, he would gently caress your back with the back of his hand. When he stopped, you would glance over at him, with a slight pout and he smirked, but resuming his ministrations.

Tonight , you had been coerced by Lucky Roux and Yasopp in a drinking game. You could hold your liquor just fine, but you needed some more liquid luck for what you were about to do.

“Alright , that’s enough,” Beckman rumbled, as he took the shot from your grip. He was sitting at one of the tables today, his chair propped against the wall, as you stood in front of him. He leaned forward, one arm slipped around your waist, and grabbed the shot, downing it for you.

“Come on Beckman! She can handle her liquor!” Lucky Roux laughed, while Yasopp made a sound between a laugh and a hiccup.

“She’s still on the clock - can’t lose our best waitress that treats us so well,” Beckman said setting the shot glass down.

“Well aren’t you the gentleman,” you teased as you leaned back, and he guided you to sit on his lap. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“A gentleman wouldn’t make you sit on my lap,” he said pointedly.

“Well maybe I wanted to,” you shot back, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I can make my own decisions.” His eyes were fixed on you, and you couldn’t pull away from his gaze.

“I’m sure you can, sweetheart,” he murmured, tightening his hold on your waist.

“Oi Beckman that’s not fair! You can’t hog y/n all to yourself!” One of the crew members yelled. Shanks roared with laughter.

“Looks like I might be winning a bet tonight - another round of drinks on me!” He yelled, garnering cheers and hoots from the Red Pirates. But all of this fell silent on you as you can only focus on the man in front of you.

“Beckman,” you murmured, your hand tracing the collar of his shirt.

“Think carefully, y/n,” Beckman warned. “You have your rules and you’re breaking them with me.” Instead you drew your face closer to his and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours.

“Maybe I want to break them for you,” you replied.

“I’m much older than you, and I come and go as I please,” he said. “A pretty young thing like you can’t be waiting for someone like me.”

“Maybe I’m into that if you promise me something,” you said breathlessly.

“Oh? What’s that?” He quipped.

“That you won’t look for anyone else but me,” you stated. Beckman stared at you - to ask a man of his stature to only return to one person, you knew was impossible. But you were tired of dancing around the matter.

You had fallen so deeply for Beckman, you were willing to break all the rules, and risk breaking your heart.

To your surprise, a soft smile came across his lips , a smile that you had never seen before.

“You didn’t actually think we come back here just for resupply?” He chuckled. You pulled away in shock. “I wanted you the first night we met you.” You felt your heart melt as you saw the warmth in his expression. “I just wasn’t sure - so Shanks told me to come back and see for myself. I don’t think you were giving the Red Pirates special attention each time just because - were you?” When you shook your head , he gently brought his lips to your collar bone, his breath warm on your skin.

“You’ve always had me then,” he confessed.

It was like a trail of fire when his lips ghosted up the column of your neck.

His hand tilted your chin to the side, giving him more access as he traced your jawline to the junction below your ear. Stifled moans escaped between your pretty lips and a low chuckle rose from his throat, his hot breath fanned against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You could smell gunpowder, cigarettes and a faint cedar that intoxicated you, wrapping around you like a blanket.

“You be good now,” he whispered. You had no choice but to nod and he smirked. “That’s my girl.”

His hand slowly traced the side of your thigh, and he felt the knife beneath the fabric. He felt a surge of overprotectiveness, as he slipped his hand found the slit on the side of your skirt. His rough fingers made contact with your soft skin, and he felt himself yearn for more of you.

“I promise you - you won’t ever need that again,” he vowed.

“And why is that?” You asked softly, getting dizzy from his overpowering presence. And before his lips could capture yours in a breath taking kiss, he replied:

“Because I’ll make sure everyone knows that you’re mine.”

#benn beckman x reader #one piece fluff #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #beckman x reader

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bloodstainedobsession · 2 months ago

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Hiii Can I have a one shot of Reiji with a reader who is bullied or is a loser?

p.s i love your projects they are so good! ;)

Thank you so much for your support and your request! I have been so bussy I haven’t been able to write for a while, so sorry for the wait… I hope you will enjoy!

Order in the chaos

Reiji Sakamaki x Bullied! Reader

Angst/fluff

The storm had followed you home.

The streets were slick with rain, the wind slicing through your soaked uniform as you hurried down the path toward the Sakamaki mansion. Your backpack hung from one shoulder, sagging from the weight of drenched notebooks and shame. You didn’t even try to shield yourself anymore, the damage had been done hours ago.

You could still hear them laughing. Still feel the sting of the soda they dumped over your head, the snide comments about how “someone like you doesn’t belong here,” and the cold edge of a locker door slamming against your shoulder.

They always found something to pick at. The way you kept to yourself. The way you looked. The way you clung to books and silence like they were armor.

But nothing ever protected you.

Except maybe him.

You weren’t sure what drove you to his mansion each time, what part of you thought seeking out a vampire known for discipline and control was safer than staying in your own skin, but your feet always carried you back here. Back to him.

The grand doors opened with a low creak, echoing through the elegant stillness of the house. You stepped inside and tried not to wince at the sound of your wet shoes squelching on the polished marble floor.

“Dripping all over the entryway, are we?”

His voice was unmistakable, smooth, sharp, and laced with a familiar mix of disappointment and curiosity.

Reiji stood at the top of the staircase, book in hand, framed by the soft glow of candlelight behind him. His crimson eyes locked onto you, sweeping from head to toe with a slow, calculated gaze. Your heart skipped.

“Honestly,” he muttered, beginning his descent with the calm authority of a man who never rushed. “You look utterly pathetic.”

You opened your mouth, maybe to defend yourself, maybe to explain why you didn’t fight back, why you let them shove you again, but the words stuck in your throat. There was no dignity left in you to defend.

By the time he reached the bottom step, your hands were trembling, fingers clutching the strap of your bag with white knuckled shame. Reiji stopped just inches from you, his height and posture casting a long shadow across your hunched form.

“Your uniform is ruined. Your posture is disgraceful. And you didn’t even have the courtesy to call ahead.”

He took a long breath, setting the book aside on a nearby table before reaching for you. His gloved hand tilted your chin upward, not cruelly, but firmly, as though daring you to look him in the eye.

You did. Slowly. Shame burned in your chest.

“You allowed them to do this to you again, didn’t you?” His voice lowered, the disapproval colder now, but behind the sharpness was something quieter. Protective. Possessive.

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to cause trouble. I thought it would stop.”

Reiji’s lips curled into something dangerously close to a smirk.

“You continue to underestimate the value of fear, little one.”

His hand dropped from your chin, trailing lightly along your jaw before withdrawing altogether.

“I’ve told you before,” he continued, turning away just long enough to remove his glasses and polish them with a silk cloth. “Being mine means no one touches you without my permission.”

His words struck something deep in your chest, something that both comforted and scared you. No one had ever claimed you like that. Not until him.

Reiji looked back over his shoulder, red eyes gleaming like blood under glass.

“Come. We will not tolerate this disgraceful state any longer.”

You felt a shiver crawl up your spine at his words. It wasn’t just the cold of the storm creeping through your clothes anymore. His tone, so commanding and certain, wrapped around you like chains. A strange mix of fear and longing settled into your chest.

“I—I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice small against the weight of his presence. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, the disappointment that only made you feel smaller.

Reiji’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying you with that same, unflinching intensity. “Sorry?” he repeated, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, though the edge remained sharp. “Do you think an apology will undo what they did to you? Do you think it will erase your weakness?”

You didn’t know how to answer. The truth was, you didn’t want to be weak anymore. But every time you faced that cruelty, every time you thought about standing up for yourself, you were paralyzed with doubt. Reiji seemed to sense that hesitation, and his expression shifted just slightly.

“Enough of this.” He stepped forward, his boots clicking against the floor with each deliberate stride. His hand was back on your chin, tilting it gently but firmly upward once more. “This ends now. No more apologies. No more excuses.”

You blinked, heart hammering in your chest as your eyes met his. Something in his gaze softened, a dangerous, possessive softness. “You belong to me now,” he continued, his voice a velvet promise. “And if anyone dares to lay a hand on you again…”

His words hung in the air, like a thread that could snap at any moment. The weight of them settled in your bones, filling the empty spaces where you had once felt alone and powerless.

Reiji took a step back, his gaze never leaving you. “Come with me,” he commanded, his tone no longer laced with the teasing edge, but with a quiet authority that left no room for argument.

You followed him, your legs heavy with both exhaustion and something else, something that tugged at the pit of your stomach. He led you down a long, dimly lit hallway, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the silence, a rhythmic pulse that matched the quickening beat of your heart.

At the end of the hallway, Reiji opened a door and stepped aside, his hand sweeping in an elegant gesture as if inviting you into his domain.

The room was pristine, quiet, and suffused with an air of controlled elegance. A large, antique mirror hung on one wall, reflecting the faint glow of the candles scattered throughout the room. The atmosphere was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, the storm that raged on just beyond the walls.

“You are going to clean yourself up,” Reiji stated, turning to face you. His voice softened, but it still held that commanding tone. “You will rid yourself of this filth, both the rain and the shame that clings to you.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure how to proceed. You had never been in this kind of position before, at his mercy, yet somehow feeling more safe than you had in a long time. Reiji’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if appraising you, before he turned away to pick up the book he’d discarded earlier.

As you moved to change into something dry, you could feel his eyes on you, always present, always watching. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not in the way you would expect. There was something protective in the way he observed you, something that made the world outside feel far less important.

“Do not ever let them see you like this again,” he murmured, his voice low but firm. “You are more than this. I will make sure they understand that.”

You stood there for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a cloak. It was hard to believe, hard to accept that someone, especially someone like Reiji, could care enough to change everything for you.

And yet, you found yourself believing it, believing in him, as you followed him deeper into the mansion, ready to leave the storm behind.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers imagine #diabolik lovers x reader #diabolik boys #diabolik brothers #reiji sakamaki one shot #reiji sakamaki x reader #reiji x reader #reiji sakamaki

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official-cvntified-gay · 10 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐈 [𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐃. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

❀ summary: You’ve fallen hard for Alcina Dimitrescu, the alluring CEO of a rival company—completely unaware of her plan to use you to gather information on your father’s business. What began as manipulation slowly turned into love, but when the truth comes out, will Alcina be able to win you back, or is it already too late?

❥ here's part 2, not proofread as always and idunno about this one but enjoy darlings<3 bye<3

❥ part one

In the weeks following your discovery of Alcina's betrayal, it felt like you were drowning in a sea of conflicting emotions. Anger, heartbreak, and confusion fought for dominance, while you buried yourself in work to keep from thinking about her. Yet no matter how hard you tried, memories of her touch, her voice, and her regretful expression from that night haunted you.

You did everything to avoid her, even going so far as to skip any social functions or venues she might frequent. But that didn’t stop her from trying to contact you. At first, it was the flowers—extravagant bouquets delivered to your home. Each came with a handwritten note from Alcina, her usually elegant script slightly smudged, as if written in haste or distress.

“I’m sorry. Please let me explain.”

“You mean everything to me. Please talk to me.”

“I was wrong. Let me make it right.”

You tossed every note aside without reading more than the first few words, each one feeling like a punch to the gut. As the days went by, her attempts grew more persistent. She sent letters, each one more heartfelt than the last, pleading for a chance to talk, to make things right. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. It hurt too much.

Then came the late-night phone calls. You would let it ring, staring at her name lighting up your screen, debating whether or not to answer. But you never did. Eventually, the calls stopped, leaving only an aching silence behind.

And tonight, at your father’s charity gala, it seemed fate had a cruel sense of timing. You didn’t have a choice but to attend, despite knowing there was a high chance Alcina would be there. The grand ballroom buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses blending with soft music. You were surrounded by people, yet you felt utterly alone.

You’d barely stepped into the room when you felt her presence before you even saw her. Across the sea of well-dressed guests, Alcina stood out like a dark flame in her black gown. Her tall, commanding figure drew eyes, but it was her unwavering gaze locked onto you that made your stomach twist.

Despite the distance, her emotions were clear. Longing, regret, desperation. The sight of her stirred something in you, a mix of pain and desire you had tried so hard to bury. But you refused to let her get to you. Not here. Not now.

Throughout the night, you tried to lose yourself in conversations, mingling with people you barely knew or cared about. But Alcina’s gaze followed you, her presence looming even from across the room. Several times, you caught her trying to approach, weaving through the crowd toward you, only to be intercepted by someone who wanted her attention—business partners, acquaintances, socialites. You could see her growing more frustrated with each interruption.

And yet, part of you was relieved every time someone blocked her path. You weren’t ready to face her. Not yet.

But Alcina was nothing if not persistent.

The night wore on, and just as you thought you might escape without confrontation, she managed to close the distance. You were slipping away to the restroom for a moment of quiet when you felt her presence behind you. The door clicked shut softly, and you turned to see her standing there, looking as regal and vulnerable as ever.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice soft, desperate. “Just hear me out.”

Your heart raced, but you didn’t move, didn’t turn to face her. “Alcina, I don’t want to do this.”

But instead of speaking, she closed the distance between you in an instant, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. Her touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid you’d pull away. You stiffened at first, your breath catching in your throat, but she didn’t let go.

Her head lowered until her lips were near your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve to ask for forgiveness, but I can’t let you go without trying.”

You stared at your reflection, feeling the heat of her body pressed against yours, the way her arms held you so tightly. You’d dreamed of this moment for weeks—of seeing her again, of feeling her close to you. But not like this. Not with so much pain between you.

“You used me, Alcina,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You lied to me.”

“I know,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “I know I did. But what I feel for you now... it’s real. It was never supposed to happen. I was never supposed to fall in love with you, but I did. And I hate myself for hurting you like this.”

Her arms tightened around you as if she feared you might slip away, her cheek resting against your hair. “I’ve never felt this way before, not with anyone. I’ve never let anyone in like I did with you, and I ruined it. I ruined us.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, tears burning behind your eyes. Part of you wanted to push her away, to tell her that you didn’t care anymore, that it was too late. But the way she held you, the way her voice shook with sincerity—it was hard to ignore.

“I thought I meant something to you,” you whispered, the hurt clear in your voice. “But it was all just a game.”

Alcina shook her head against you, her grip on you unwavering. “It started that way, but it changed. You changed me. Please, believe me. I never wanted to hurt you like this.”

You were silent for a moment, your mind torn between the betrayal and the love that still lingered in your heart. Her arms around you felt safe, familiar, but the weight of what she’d done was still too heavy to ignore.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

Alcina let out a shaky breath, her lips brushing the top of your head. “I understand. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn your trust back, if you’ll let me.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks as you leaned back into her. It was all too much—the anger, the longing, the love you still felt for her despite everything.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Alcina’s arms tightened around you, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself sink into the feeling of being held by her. “Then just let me hold you,” she whispered back. “For now, that’s all I ask.”

You stood there in the quiet of the bathroom, wrapped in her arms, the weight of the past hanging between you. There was so much still unsaid, so many wounds left to heal. But for now, in this moment, you let her hold you, let her be close again, and for a fleeting second, it felt like maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.

❥ definitely not obsessed with Alcina begging to take her back- oop who said that?🤨👀

#alcina x female reader #alcina x y/n #resident evil alcina #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #alcina x reader #resident lover alcina #lady alcina #resident evil

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 1 year ago

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Back Home

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: None. Angst, romance, humour.

Summary: You’re informed of what happened to Poe...and it couldn’t be straightforward.

You sat by the monitor and continuously flipped through the life scans of Jakku. It had been 8 hours since news reached the base of a First Order attack on the planet and all contact had been lost with Poe Dameron and his droid BB-8.

You had barely gotten a wink of sleep. The destruction of the village haunted your thoughts and the fear of losing Poe in the field was the reason you worked relentlessly to find the Resistance pilot and his droid.

Most of the officers had retired to their bed chambers for rest but there were still several others that remained working. Leaning forward, you set your head to rest on the palm of your hand while pouring over footage for the hundredth time.

“Lieutenant?” A voice called out.

Turning to the right, you saw General Organa looking back, grim-faced. An expression that you knew to be accompanied with bad news.

Standing up respectively, you saluted the Princess of Alderaan. “General. Is there a problem?”

Leia let out a soft sigh. “Follow me.”

The two words were frightening. They could lead into anything. You followed the General to the X-Wing bay and caught up to walk beside her. Leia had kept quiet most of the way which only heightened your concern. So you spoke up.

“General Organa, what are we doing here?” The bay was operating as usual and there didn’t seem to be any apparent disruption.

Leia stopped walking and you turned to face her.

“We recovered the body of Poe Dameron.” Leia revealed.

You wanted the ground to swallow you. Your mind went blank and suddenly you couldn’t remember what Poe looked like. Mouth falling dry, your chest began to ache… then a voice made itself known as it approached.

“I think we can skip Jakku from our list of honeymoon destinations.” Poe joked - very much alive.

You turned and saw the familiar messy black hair. Running forward, you threw your arms around Poe’s neck – engulfing the man in the warmest hug. Your nails dug into his shirt holding him tight as if he would disappear again.

Then the choked sobs of relief escaped.

Poe’s eyes widened, his arms squeezing just a bit tighter. “Hey, I’m here. It’s okay.” He looked to Leia and she shook her head at him.

“I warned you not to play this trick.” She reprimanded.

A commander approached the princess and requested for her to join them in the war room. Leia nodded and left to complete her duties.

After a few minutes, you finally calmed enough to release Poe. You studied his face and noted the bruises printing his skin and blood-stains over his top. The side of his head was wounded and his trademark jacket was missing.

In spite of the obvious damage, he glowed.

“I thought I lost you.” You told him.

Poe nodded sadly. “You almost did aboard the Empire’s fleet.”

“You were taken captive? How did you-?”

“I promise I’ll tell you everything but, uh…” Poe rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I think my X-Wing is busted.”

Any other day, you might have warned him about damaging the jet but, as of this moment, you could care less about it. Smiling with relief, you grabbed Poe by his shirt, pulled him close and kissed him without a second thought. Poe placed a gentle hand on your cheek and returned the affectionate token until you pulled back slightly.

“As long as it’s not you.” You whispered. Poe wrapped his arms around your body, staying close – thankful that he had made it home. He knew that they had a new mission to find and retrieve BB-8 but it could wait for a few moments with you.

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #poe imagine #poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron imagine #star wars imagine #star wars x reader

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nickeverdeen · 7 months ago

Note

The people yearn for part 2 of the powder fic😭💖

She Can Try pt. 2 | Grown up!Powder x fem!reader

Pairings: Powder x reader (romantic), Powder x Vi (sisters), Vi x reader (dead lover), Virelyn x reader (strangers), Virelyn x Powder (strangers), Vander x Powder (family), Vander x reader (platonic)

Type of fic: Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Death mentioned, mouring, pretending

Part 1: here

Part 3: here

Summary: After Vi died you tried to move on, but no matter how much you tried she still lingered there in the back of your mind, while Powder has been quietly suffering for 10 years of silently loving you.

——————

Powder had never thought of herself as a good actress. Her emotions were often written plainly on her face, her thoughts tumbling out faster than she could organize them. But over the last few days, she had tried to play a role—Vi’s role.

It was clumsy at first. Powder wasn’t naturally brash or commanding like her sister, and mimicking Vi’s confidence felt like putting on a jacket two sizes too big. Still, she thought it was worth it if it meant you might look at her the way you used to look at Vi.

But it wasn’t sustainable, and deep down, she knew it.

The two of you sat at a corner table in the Last Drop, the bar quiet except for the occasional clinking of glasses and murmured conversations. Powder leaned back in her chair, trying to seem more relaxed than she actually was, while you stirred your drink absentmindedly.

“You’ve been… different lately,” you said, your tone light but curious.

Powder froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. “Different how?”

You glanced at her, a small smile playing on your lips. “I don’t know. You’re acting more-.”

But before you could press further, a waitress approached your table. She was bright, cheerful, and entirely unbothered by the somber air that sometimes hung around the bar.

“Anything I can get you?” she asked, her tone warm and inviting.

Powder was about to politely decline when she noticed the way you stiffened, your eyes fixed on the waitress. Powder followed your gaze, her stomach sinking as she realized why.

The waitress looked eerily like Vi—her younger self, back when the two of you were together.

“No, we’re good,” Powder said quickly, hoping to shoo her away.

The waitress smiled and nodded, but as she walked away, someone called out to her from across the bar: “Vi, grab me another round!”

The name hit you like a punch to the gut.

You pushed your chair back abruptly, muttering a quick excuse before leaving the table. Powder watched you go, her chest tightening with worry and guilt.

Behind the bar, Vander caught her eye and shook his head subtly, as if to say, Give her space. Powder hesitated, then reluctantly stayed in her seat.

Later that evening, Powder asked around and learned that the waitress’s full name was Virelyn, and “Vi” was just a nickname. It was a small relief—this wasn’t some cruel joke or cosmic irony—but it didn’t change the fact that you were hurting.

When Powder finally made her way back to her workshop, the door was slightly ajar. Her heart leapt in alarm as she quickly stepped inside, scanning the room for any sign of an intruder.

She descended the stairs cautiously, her unease growing as she noticed the faint glow of candles near Vi’s memorial.

There you were, sitting cross-legged in front of it, staring at the photo and the carefully arranged mementos. The sight made Powder’s chest ache.

She approached slowly, not wanting to startle you, and sat down beside you without saying a word.

For a while, the two of you just sat there in silence. Powder didn’t know what to say, and you seemed lost in thought, your gaze fixed on the memorial.

Eventually, she glanced over and noticed the way your shoulders had started to slump, your breathing uneven. You were sinking, caught in the weight of old memories and unresolved grief.

Without thinking, Powder reached out and wrapped an arm around you in a gentle, tentative side hug.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the embrace. Powder knew what you were doing—pretending it was Vi holding you, just like you always did when you let her comfort you like this.

But then, something shifted.

Your eyes fluttered open, and instead of closing them again to continue the illusion, you looked up at Powder.

It wasn’t a romantic look or even a hopeful one—it was raw, vulnerable, and quietly searching. Powder’s breath caught in her throat, startled by the sudden shift in your gaze.

For a brief moment, it felt like you were seeing her—not as a shadow of Vi, but as herself.

Powder’s heart ached with the weight of it. She wanted to be more for you, to fill the emptiness that Vi’s absence had left behind, but she also knew she couldn’t force it.

So, instead of saying anything, she just held you a little tighter, resting her chin gently against the top of your head.

#imagine #powder #powder x reader #powder x you #alternate universe #alternative universe #alternative universe powder #arcane x reader #powder season 2 #arcane season 2 #part 2 #wlw?

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shiorihyugawrites · 4 months ago

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Red Regrets

Twelve years ago, Levi Ackerman made the hardest decision of his life—he left behind the only woman he ever loved, believing it was for her own good. But fate is cruel, and when a fiery redheaded boy with a familiar scowl crosses his path, Levi is forced to confront the past he abandoned. The truth he never knew. And the woman whose heart he shattered. (Levi x OC)

Chapter Four

The wind whistled through the dense canopy of tall pines, sending a hush over the secluded clearing where Levi’s squad had set up camp. The wooden cabin stood in the center of a small meadow, its weathered logs blending into the surrounding forest. From a distance, no one would guess that inside, the Scouts were harboring two of the most wanted individuals in all the Walls: Eren Jaeger, the Titan shifter, and Historia Reiss, the girl with mysterious ties to the church.

For the past week, Levi and his squad had been living on edge. Hange was busy with Eren’s experiments, pushing him to transform, but the results were inconsistent and yielded little in the way of groundbreaking discoveries. Meanwhile, Historia paced uneasily by the cabin windows, dreading the moment the government might finally catch up to them. Jean, Connie, and Sasha kept watch on the perimeter, switching out in shifts. Mikasa and Armin aided Hange and Eren when they could, but they also struggled to keep up morale. Tensions ran high, and no one dared to speculate too loudly about what would happen if Commander Erwin was arrested. Or worse, if the monarchy declared the entire Scout Regiment outlawed.

For his part, Levi sat at a battered wooden table in the cabin’s single main room, surrounded by the hush of late afternoon. His elbows rested on the tabletop, fingers steepled in front of his chin. He’d barely slept all week. On paper, he was entirely focused on the mission—he was the squad’s leader, entrusted with Eren’s life, with Historia’s safety. Yet something else gnawed at him every waking moment. Penelope. Preston. Their faces kept forcing their way into his thoughts at the most inconvenient times.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he pictured Penelope’s furious glare, the sting of her accusations in his ears. He recalled the heartbreak in her voice when she reminded him how he had left her. And, looming alongside that guilt, the memory of the redheaded brat who looked so much like him. Preston was his son—Levi had no doubt now. But the knowledge only deepened the ache he felt, because Penelope had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

He wondered if she was all right, if Preston was going to class now or still skipping and getting into fights. But how could he check on them without going against her wishes? A simmering frustration built in him: he was Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, but he felt powerless to mend the damage he had caused.

His train of thought was interrupted when the cabin door creaked open. Jean and Connie shuffled in, carrying small sacks of freshly gathered herbs. Sasha followed behind, a disappointed expression on her face.

“Still no game,” Sasha muttered, tossing her quiver of arrows onto a nearby chair. “I swear, it’s like the wildlife heard we were coming and decided to run for the hills.”

Jean set the herbs down, stretching the kinks out of his back. “Well, it’s better than nothing. Hange can probably use these to help with Eren’s post-transformation headaches.”

Levi regarded them with his usual unreadable expression. “Don’t slack,” he said tersely. “If we can’t hunt, we’ll need to ration what’s left. And be mindful of any tracks. We can’t risk the Military Police finding us.”

Jean and Connie nodded, heading to the far side of the room where they began sorting the herbs. Sasha, momentarily hesitant, picked up her quiver and murmured something about checking her arrows. Then she vanished into the next room.

Silence settled again, broken only by the murmur of hushed voices from Eren and Hange outside as they conducted yet another test of his Titan powers. In the distance, the faint sound of Armin directing Historia on some chore drifted through the open window.

Levi leaned back in his chair, pressing his palms flat against the table. His body practically vibrated with pent-up anxiety. He knew he needed to keep calm, but his thoughts kept straying. He scolded himself for the lapse—this was no time for personal distractions. Yet whenever he tried to refocus on Eren’s plight or Historia’s secret heritage, an image of Penelope inevitably rose in his mind.

He sensed movement in the main room again: Connie and Jean had paused their work and were standing close together, whispering. Their eyes flickered surreptitiously toward Levi. He caught sight of the way Jean’s mouth twisted in a half-smile of curiosity, and Connie’s eyebrows rose as though he were describing something outlandish. Levi’s expression darkened, suspecting they were gossiping about something. Or more specifically, about him.

He allowed them another few moments to continue, feigning disinterest. But eventually, he stood and walked up behind them, silent as a cat. Jean was in mid-sentence. “You remember that kid at HQ? Fiery red hair—”

“Looked kinda like the Captain,” Connie interjected in a hushed tone. “You think—”

They both froze the instant they realized Levi was right behind them. Jean’s face went pale, and Connie hastily cleared his throat. “Uh, Captain… we were just—”

Levi stared down, arms crossed, voice flat. “Just what?”

Jean, swallowing hard, glanced at Connie. “We were just, uh, wondering about that redheaded kid who turned HQ upside down last week. We heard rumors he was looking for you. Then he just… vanished.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed. He had no intention of explaining the truth to them—not yet, anyway. “That is none of your business,” he said calmly, though a cold edge sharpened his words. “He’s not a threat. That’s all you need to know.”

Connie took a half-step back, raising his hands. “Of course, Captain,” he said quickly. “We were just curious. The rest of the squad’s been speculating.”

Levi’s jaw tightened. “Tch. Focus on your duties. Curiosity can get you killed.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door, pushing it open to step outside into the crisp forest air. He didn’t bother glancing back to see Jean and Connie exchange uneasy looks. The truth was, he felt guilty for snapping at them. But the swirl of private turmoil in his mind made him impatient with anything that reminded him of Preston.

The late afternoon sun angled through the clearing, casting long shadows across the grass. A short distance away, Eren was sitting against a tree stump, sweat beading his brow, while Hange scribbled furiously into a notebook. Mikasa hovered nearby, arms folded protectively.

Levi scanned the horizon. If the Military Police or any government dogs came lurking, this vantage point gave him a clear line of sight. There was no immediate sign of danger, though that did little to soothe him. He wanted to do a perimeter check to keep himself busy, but he also felt the urge to walk deeper into the woods alone, if only to gather his thoughts away from everyone else’s prying eyes.

As he stood there, torn between duty and his own tangled emotions, Hange caught sight of him. “Oi, Levi!” she called, waving her free hand enthusiastically. “Come check this out!”

Levi sighed and walked over. Eren glanced up at him, panting slightly from his earlier transformation attempt. Steam still rose faintly from a few superficial cuts on his arm. Hange, ever the fervent scientist, pointed to the notebook. “Eren’s Titan form is responding oddly. He’s having trouble maintaining structure around the wrists and forearms. It’s almost like the Titan’s body is rejecting something.”

Levi’s mind reeled, trying to refocus on the problem at hand. “Could it be fatigue? Or maybe an incomplete command from Eren’s side?”

Eren shrugged, wincing as Mikasa dabbed at a lingering burn on his skin. “I’ve tried different mental images, but it keeps failing. That, plus the fact we have to stay hidden here, means I can’t push too hard or risk drawing attention with a full transformation.”

Hange hummed thoughtfully, scribbling again. “I might need to dissect this further, but that’s a risk in itself. We can’t transform too often, or the MPs might see the steam from miles away.”

Mikasa watched Levi’s face. “Captain,” she said softly, “are you alright? You’ve seemed… tense lately.”

Levi didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze on Eren’s injuries. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Worry about Eren.”

Mikasa fell silent, recognizing that pressing him was futile. Hange, completely immersed in her notes, missed the subtle exchange altogether. She launched into a monologue about Titan physiology, spouting theories that Levi had heard countless times. Ordinarily, he tried to follow the threads of her logic, but today, his thoughts were miles away—back in Wall Sina, with Penelope. He recalled the heartbreak in her eyes, the same gaze that once looked upon him with unwavering devotion.

Eren cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “We’ll keep testing, Captain,” he said, trying to mask the strain in his voice. “Just tell us if you see anything suspicious out there. I’ll do my best to remain inconspicuous.”

Levi nodded. “Don’t push yourself too hard. We don’t need you passing out.”

Hange clapped the notebook shut. “Alright, I think that’s enough for now. Let’s give Eren a break and continue tomorrow morning. I still have to sort through these notes.”

The small group dispersed. Mikasa helped Eren to his feet and guided him back toward the cabin. Hange lingered a moment, adjusting her glasses and peering at Levi with curiosity. “I noticed you’re a bit quiet, even for you,” she ventured. “You doing okay? I know you have a lot going on right now…”

“I’m fine,” Levi answered immediately, the edge in his voice discouraging further inquiry. He turned away, scanning the tree line. “I’m going to do a perimeter check.”

“Understood,” Hange said, though he felt her eyes on him a moment longer. Then she trudged off in the same direction as Eren and Mikasa, flipping through her notes.

Levi walked the perimeter alone, footsteps rustling fallen pine needles. The forest smelled of resin and damp earth, a sharp contrast to the polished floors of the clinic he’d visited last week. His mind kept drifting, conjuring Penelope’s image with painful clarity. In a single moment, she’d reminded him of everything they’d shared and lost. A longing he’d tried to bury came roaring back, a fierce need to protect her and their son, balanced against the sobering truth that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

He paused at a small stream, watching the water ripple over smooth stones. His reflection stared back at him, eyes shadowed with fatigue. Did he truly have the right to force his way back into Penelope’s life, after all he’d done? Did he even have the capacity to be a father, when the only paternal figure he’d known was Kenny—a serial killer who vanished from his life as quickly as he’d appeared?

Levi’s jaw tightened. He recalled the helplessness he’d felt as a child in the Underground, and how Penelope became one of the only bright spots in his grim world. The taste of that memory was bittersweet: she was once everything to him, and now she was a seething reminder of what he’d ruined. The ache in his chest grew sharper. He could respect her wish for distance, but that didn’t dull the longing inside him. And then there was Preston—his son—who deserved the truth, even if that truth was messy and fraught with pain.

A muffled shout from the direction of the cabin snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned instinctively, hand moving toward his blades, until he recognized Jean’s distinct voice. No sign of real danger. Probably another argument over chores or some small mishap. He let out a quiet breath, reminding himself that the safety of Eren and the squad demanded his primary focus. Dwelling on regrets wouldn’t help them survive.

And yet, he knew he couldn’t let the matter rest forever. Once the looming threat of the government had been handled—one way or another—he would go back. He had to, no matter how many times Penelope tried to kick him out. The only question was whether she’d ever be willing to give him a second chance, or at least let him be part of Preston’s life. Part of him doubted it. But hope, frail as a candle flame, refused to die in the depths of his chest.

Levi turned away from the stream, continuing his patrol. The forest seemed endless, silent except for the occasional rustle of wildlife. He walked deeper, scanning the surroundings with a soldier’s vigilance. Yet in the back of his mind, thoughts of Penelope lingered like a haunting refrain, and he knew that no matter what lay ahead for the Scout Regiment, a different sort of battle awaited him when it came to the woman he’d once protected—and the family he’d left behind.

…

The forest was eerily quiet that night, save for the occasional rustle of leaves whispering in the breeze and the distant chirp of insects. The air was crisp and cold, the kind that sank into your bones and made you want to wrap yourself in every blanket you could find. But Levi was unfazed. He stood on the porch of the cabin, leaning against one of the worn wooden beams with his arms folded tightly across his chest, keeping his sharp eyes fixed on the dark treeline beyond. His blade was strapped to his hip out of habit, and his breath came out in soft, slow puffs as he scanned the area for any sign of movement. The moon hung low above them, half-hidden behind the shifting clouds.

This was always his time—the middle of the night when everyone else slept and the weight of leadership pressed down the hardest. It gave him space to think, though lately, his thoughts were the last thing he wanted to be left alone with.

Penelope. Preston. Their faces had been burned into his mind since the moment he left her clinic. He couldn’t stop replaying her words, the slap she nearly delivered, the bitterness in her eyes. And Preston… the way the brat looked at him, equal parts hopeful and confused, as if waiting for Levi to step up and claim something he wasn't sure he had the right to claim.

Levi was so lost in thought he almost didn’t hear the soft creak of the cabin door opening behind him.

“Oi,” Hange’s familiar voice called quietly. “Mind some company?”

Levi barely turned his head. “Tch. Do what you want.”

She stepped out into the night, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her glasses glinted faintly in the moonlight as she joined him by the railing, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the wooden beam, peering out at the trees like she might see whatever it was Levi had been staring at for the past hour.

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately,” she said after a moment, her tone casual but not unkind. “And, yeah, yeah, I know—you’re always quiet. But this is… different.”

Levi didn’t answer right away. His gaze remained fixed on the dark horizon. “We’ve got a lot on our plates.”

“We do,” Hange agreed, nodding. “But you’re not thinking about Eren. Or Historia. Or the government breathing down our necks. Don’t bother denying it.”

He gave her a sideways glance but didn’t argue. There was no point. Hange wasn’t a fool.

She shifted, casting him a small, knowing smile. “How’s Dr. Iverson?”

Levi’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he contemplated brushing it off. But what was the use? Hange already knew. She and Erwin were the only ones who did. “She told me to stay away,” he muttered, voice low. “And she meant it.”

Hange hummed softly, rocking on her heels. “Can’t blame her. You did kinda abandon her, huh?”

Levi shot her a glare, but Hange just shrugged, unbothered. “What? I’m not wrong. You really know how to make a mess of things.”

Levi sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. I know.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, the night pressing in around them. Somewhere inside the cabin, a floorboard creaked, probably Jean turning over in his sleep. Levi closed his eyes briefly, wishing for just a moment of peace from his own mind. But Hange wasn’t done yet.

“I gotta admit,” she said, grinning now as she nudged him with her elbow, “I didn’t think you had it in you back then. You? Of all people? Falling for someone like her?”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Hange laughed softly. “She’s… well, you know. Gorgeous. Brilliant. Fiery as hell. You, meanwhile, have the personality of a brick wall and the charm of a feral cat.”

Levi scoffed under his breath. “Tch. Thanks.”

“I’m just saying,” she continued, clearly enjoying herself now. “Back in your youth, I bet you thought you were pretty smooth, huh? How’d you manage to pull someone like Dr. Iverson? I mean, seriously. You’ve been scowling since the day I met you.”

Levi shook his head, looking back out at the trees. “I didn’t ‘pull her’. She chose me.”

That earned a thoughtful pause from Hange. She looked at him with something almost like respect. “Huh. Guess that makes sense. She seems like the type who goes after what she wants.”

“She did,” Levi said quietly. “I was just some punk kid in the Underground. She could’ve looked right past me. But she didn’t.”

Hange tilted her head. “You loved her.”

Still do, Levi thought but didn’t say. Instead, he gave the smallest nod. “Yeah.”

Hange leaned back against the railing, watching him with an uncharacteristically soft gaze. “You ever think about trying to eventually fix things with her? I mean, now that you know about Preston…”

Levi closed his eyes briefly. “Every damn day.”

She gave a short laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

“To me? Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence again, the kind that only old friends could share without it feeling heavy. Levi appreciated that Hange didn’t press him too hard. She knew when to back off, even if she had a tendency to push his buttons.

“I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me,” Levi admitted after a long pause. “And maybe she shouldn’t. But... I can’t just pretend like it never happened. Like Preston isn’t mine.”

“Good,” Hange said, adjusting her glasses. “Because whether she forgives you or not, that kid deserves to know his father. And I think you’re better at this kind of thing than you give yourself credit for.”

Levi shot her a skeptical look.

“Well,” she amended with a grin, “not much better. But better.”

He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Tch. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime, Captain.” She patted his arm before turning back toward the door. “Get some rest when you can, alright? Even brooding needs sleep.”

Levi grunted in acknowledgment but didn’t move from his spot. Hange slipped back inside, leaving him alone with the night, the cold air, and the ache in his chest that hadn’t eased since the moment he laid eyes on Penelope again.

He glanced up at the stars overhead, wondering if she was looking at the same sky, wondering if Preston had gone to bed already, if she’d finally managed to stop being angry long enough to just... breathe.

Levi knew he couldn’t stay away forever. Sooner or later, he was going back. Whether Penelope liked it or not, they had unfinished business.

And this time, he wasn’t running from it.

…

A few days later, Penelope settled into her chair, exhaling a quiet sigh as she watched the last of her young medical students leave the clinic. Their eager voices still rang in her ears, that mixture of excitement and anxiety she remembered so vividly from her own days as an up-and-coming medical prodigy. She ran a hand over her desk, smoothing out the scattered lecture notes. Despite the lingering chaos on her work surface, the clinic felt oddly calm. It was nearing the end of the day, and she was looking forward to a peaceful evening at home with Preston.

She had sent her nurse off early, wanting to give the woman a little free time before the sun fully set. Besides, Penelope anticipated little to no foot traffic at this hour. In theory, the only person who should be stepping inside was Preston. He often finished school a bit later than other kids his age because he was involved in additional studies and extracurricular activities. Lately, though, she’d noticed he wasn’t as keen on those extra commitments—no doubt distracted by everything that had happened involving Captain Levi.

Levi Ackerman. The name sent a flood of conflicting emotions through her chest. She rested her elbows on the desk and pressed her fingertips to her temples. Why couldn’t she get him out of her mind? She hated him, or at least she told herself she did. But under that anger lived a different kind of pain—one that still stung every time she recalled his touch, his fierce protectiveness, his rare, warm smiles that had once been reserved for her alone. She told herself it was better to stay away, that letting him back in would only risk more heartbreak. Preston deserved stability, not a father who might vanish into the chaos of Titan battles, leaving them both broken.

She inhaled, deciding to set those thoughts aside. Preston had been on better behavior lately, attending school without skipping and coming home at a reasonable hour. Perhaps, she mused, they could head out to dinner or just spend the night cooking a meal together. She wanted to reward him, maybe buy him that pastry he always ogled through the bakery window. Something normal, something happy to wash away the tension that had settled between them in the aftermath of Levi’s sudden return.

The chime of the front door broke her reverie. She smiled to herself and stood, stretching her stiff back. “Preston?” she called, her voice echoing in the clinic’s small lobby. “You’re early for once. Did you—”

Silence. No answer. That was odd. Preston usually replied with some sarcastic retort or at least a grumble. Penelope took a few steps forward, edging out of her office and into the front corridor. Perhaps he was teasing her, playing a trick. She allowed the barest hint of a smile to tug at her lips. “Preston, don’t ignore me,” she said, scanning the hallway. “I’m not in the mood for hide-and-seek.”

Still nothing. The quiet was unsettling. Her smile faded, replaced by an uneasy knot in her stomach. She cleared her throat and rounded the corner into the waiting area. “Preston?” she tried again, voice tightening. “If you’re trying to scare me, cut it out.”

Then she saw him.

Her heart lurched in her chest as her gaze landed on Preston. He stood near the entrance, gagged with a cloth that wrapped around the lower half of his face. His eyes were wide and terrified. His hands, bound behind his back, struggled against the rope that cut into his wrists. The sight nearly knocked the breath out of her.

“Mom!” he mumbled through the cloth, his voice muffled but desperate.

Behind Preston stood a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. His face was shadowed by the brim, but what little she could see of his features was etched with a smug confidence. Around him, three other figures in black uniforms lingered, each armed with strange, compact gear that Penelope had never seen before. It looked like the Omni-Directional Mobility Gear that many soldiers used, but modified in some lethal, specialized way.

Penelope’s gaze snapped back to Preston, who was trembling, his shoulders stiff. Fury and fear slammed through her in equal measure. Without hesitation, she took a step forward. “Let him go,” she demanded, voice low and sharp. “Now.”

The tall man tilted his head, revealing more of his angular jaw and the lines around his cold eyes. “Evening,” he drawled, voice tinged with amusement. “You must be Dr. Iverson. Heard a bit about you.” He tightened his grip on Preston’s collar, making the boy flinch. “We’ll be taking you and your brat for a little ride.”

Penelope’s fists clenched. She fought to keep her composure, though her rage surged dangerously. “I don’t know who you are,” she ground out, “but you need to leave before I notify the Military Police. If you—”

The man barked out a laugh, loud and mocking. “Oh, sweetheart, we are the Military Police.” One of his associates, a woman with short blonde hair, snickered at Penelope’s reaction. “Name’s Kenny,” the tall man added. “Kenny Ackerman, to be precise. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Penelope’s stomach twisted at the last name. Ackerman? Like Levi? She struggled to remain calm, refusing to show fear. “If you work for the Military Police, there’s no reason to hold us hostage,” she said carefully, casting a worried glance at her son. “Whatever you want, you can’t just break in here—”

Kenny waved a hand dismissively. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I can do whatever I want.” He then nodded to the blonde woman at his side. “Caven, be a dear and bring our good doctor along.”

Caven stepped forward, and Penelope’s instincts kicked into overdrive. In a flash, Penelope reached into the pocket of her coat, finding the small scalpel she always kept on her person. The moment Caven stretched out her hand, Penelope slashed at her, slicing through the fabric of the woman’s uniform and into the flesh of her arm. Caven hissed in pain and jerked back, blood staining the black fabric.

“You little—” Caven began, but Penelope was already moving, aiming the scalpel at Kenny himself. She might not have been a soldier, but growing up in the Underground, plus her medical knowledge, gave her enough nerve to fight back.

Kenny smirked, stepping aside with practiced ease. Before Penelope could adjust her angle, another squad member lunged in from behind, pressing a cloth against her mouth. The chemical odor assaulted her senses immediately, sickly sweet and overpowering. She tried to struggle, tried to twist away, but her body weakened as the substance invaded her lungs.

Her scalpel clattered to the floor, and her vision blurred. She heard Preston shout something muffled through the gag, but she could barely make sense of it. Kenny’s figure swam into her line of sight. As her knees buckled, he caught her with an almost mocking gentleness.

“Feisty one, ain’t she,” Kenny remarked, eyeing her with amusement. He reached up and fingered a lock of her rose-red hair. “Such a pretty color.” In one swift motion, he drew a knife and sawed through a portion of her hair, pocketing the severed strands. “Might need this later.”

Penelope tried to speak, to curse at him, but the drug’s potency overwhelmed her. Darkness crowded her vision, and she sank into unconsciousness, her last coherent thought a desperate concern for Preston’s safety.

Preston watched in horror as his mother slumped in Kenny’s arms. Tears gathered in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. Fear and anger churned in his chest. He struggled uselessly against the ropes binding his wrists, wanting nothing more than to lash out at the tall man who held his mother captive.

“Don’t hurt her,” he tried to say, voice muffled by the gag.

Kenny’s gaze slid over to the boy, an unsettling grin forming on his lips. “Don’t worry, kid,” he said, though there was no warmth in his tone. “As long as she cooperates, she’ll be fine. We just need to get the attention of a certain Captain Levi.”

Preston’s heart stuttered. Levi. This had something to do with him? He glared back, though with the gag in place, he could only manage muffled noises of protest. Two members of the squad grabbed him by the arms, dragging him toward the door while Kenny carried the unconscious Penelope.

Outside, a dark carriage waited. The horse snorted, stomping a hoof as the group approached. The driver, a wiry man with a patchy beard, opened the carriage doors. Kenny climbed in first, settling Penelope onto the seat with a casual air, as if she were some package he’d picked up. Caven, nursing her wounded arm, slipped in beside him, grimacing at the blood on her uniform.

Preston was forced in next, shoved onto the bench opposite his mother, still gagged and bound. The last two members of the squad followed, their menacing presence crowding the cramped interior. One of them slammed the doors shut.

“Move,” Kenny barked to the driver, and the carriage lurched forward.

Preston winced at the rough motion, staring helplessly at his mother, who remained unconscious, her head lolling against the seat. The severed lock of her rose-red hair in Kenny’s coat pocket was a vivid reminder of how vulnerable they were. Despair washed over Preston, followed by a burst of fierce determination. If Levi truly cared about them at all, maybe he’d come. If not… he didn’t want to think about what might happen.

Kenny leaned back, resting a hand on his hat. “Showtime,” he murmured, an almost gleeful edge to his voice. “Let’s see if that little runt got any heart left in that cold chest of his.”

Preston swallowed hard, closing his eyes. His mother’s limp form was the only reason he didn’t thrash about. He knew any sudden movement might provoke these people into hurting her more. Silent tears threatened to spill as the carriage rattled over the cobblestones, carrying them away to an unknown fate. All he could do was pray that someone would come for them—someone with the strength and resolve to shatter this terrible nightmare.

…

A few hours later…

Levi crouched low on the slanted rooftop, the evening sky painted in deep purples and reds behind him. Nifa knelt at his side, warily scanning the deserted streets below. The air felt tense—he and Nifa had come here to regroup, to decide their next move now that the government was after Eren and Historia. His mind was swirling with a thousand concerns: the fact that they were severely outnumbered, that they didn’t know who to trust, and, uncomfortably, the memory of Penelope and Preston. It had been days since he’d heard anything about them, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to subside.

“Captain Levi,” Nifa murmured, glancing at him with apprehension. “Are you sure we should be out in the open like this? The Military Police—”

She never finished.

A thunderous crack sliced through the hush. Levi’s soldier instincts kicked in too late—Nifa’s eyes widened, and she collapsed forward onto the roof tiles. Blood spattered across the bricks, and Levi’s heart pounded. He lunged toward her, but she was gone before he could utter a word. The shot had taken her clean through the head.

He twisted, scanning frantically for the shooter. A second shot ricocheted off a chimney near his shoulder, forcing him to roll away. Crouching behind a stone outcropping, he craned his neck and spotted a familiar silhouette perched on a higher rooftop across the narrow street. Wide-brimmed hat, long coat, bristling with weapons. Levi’s blood ran cold.

“KENNY!” he growled as he threw his blade, the name thick with a mixture of rage and an old bitterness. Of course it had to be him. His old mentor, or tormentor, depending on how you looked at it. A man who taught him the darkness of the underground, the brutality of survival.

He had no time to mourn Nifa. Another bullet whizzed past, forcing him to dart to the roof’s edge. He heard Kenny’s laughter echo off the stone walls—sharp, mocking, and chilling. Leviheard the cracking of rooftiles as he launched himself into the air, using his ODM gear to pivot around a rising spire. With one final glance at the fallen bodies of his squadmate, Levi sped off, desperate to find cover.

Below, the city streets erupted in chaos. Civilians scattered at the sound of gunfire echoing between tall buildings. Levi angled toward a main boulevard just in time to see a horse-drawn carriage tearing away, the top shredded by grappling hooks. Inside that carriage, Eren and Historia were visible for only an instant before tranquilizer darts took them down. Levi recognized their expressions—shock, confusion, and then sudden unconsciousness. His jaw clenched as he realized the carriage driver was also killed. Another shot from above forced Levi to yank on his ODM triggers, soaring sideways to avoid being gunned down.

He caught a glimpse of more black-clad individuals—Kenny’s Anti-Personnel Control Squad—swooping in with specially modified gear of their own. The carriage careened around a corner, Eren and Historia slumped inside. Levi lunged after it, hooking onto a tall clock tower, but then two more members of Kenny’s squad intercepted him midair. Their guns boomed, and Levi contorted his body to avoid the deadly barrage. Smoke filled the alleyway from the constant firing of rifles. Levi’s mind raced: Eren and Historia were being taken away, and he was running out of time.

A bullet tore through the edge of his head, narrowly missing flesh. Levi hissed in frustration, forced to retreat. He veered sharply onto a side street, zipping between narrow gaps. The enemy was persistent, grappling after him, the staccato bursts of gunfire trailing him. He spotted a small, unassuming sign for a bar up ahead. Without a second thought, he fired his ODM gear and dove inside the establishment’s door, landing in a crouch on the counter.

Startled cries erupted from the patrons and the bartender. Levi lifted a hand, signaling them to keep quiet before diving behind the bar. Outside, the clamoring footsteps of Kenny’s squad approached. He drew a long breath, trying to compose himself amid the adrenaline surging through his veins. Then came the creak of the door. Kenny busted in, his boots clacking against the worn floorboards. The patrons froze, and even the bartender looked paralyzed by fear.

Kenny’s voice, rich with twisted amusement, filled the bar. “Levi, my boy, come out now. Don’t make me ruin this fine establishment.”

Levi didn’t move, but he peered through a gap in the bar’s wooden paneling. He could see Kenny from the knees down, the tall boots, the edge of that signature coat.

“Got your attention with that little greeting on the rooftops,” Kenny went on. “But I’ve got something else to show you.” There was a pause, and Levi heard a rustling of fabric. “Maybe you’ll recognize this.”

Levi peeked farther, and his heart clamped in his chest. In Kenny’s hand was a small lock of rose-red hair, the ends haphazardly cut. Levi knew that color immediately. Penelope. The sight struck him like a fist to the gut.

“See, I caught you sneaking around that little clinic a while back,” Kenny drawled. “Never pegged you for the type to get attached to a woman. Especially a taller one, heh. Must be awkward for a short runt like you.” He cackled at his own barb. “But it’s real, isn’t it? You got a taste for that fancy doctor. Real pretty lady, from what I’ve seen, and quite the fighter. She knifed one of my people, if you can believe that.”

Levi’s chest tightened, fury coiling in his gut. So Kenny was behind the disappearance. He swore under his breath. “You bastard,” he muttered, voice barely audible as he tried to steel himself.

Kenny continued, savoring every word. “Y’know, I taught you better than to form attachments. You do, and you end up in situations like this.” He held up the lock of hair again. “Her and that brat of hers… well, they won’t last long if you don’t make things real easy for me. Hand over Eren Jaeger. Hand over that brat Historia Reiss. And you and the rest of your Scout buddies can turn yourselves in. Otherwise, I’ll be shipping Dr. Iverson and her son out in little pieces.”

Levi’s blood roared in his ears. He had expected blackmail from the government, from the Military Police. But never had he anticipated that Kenny would find Penelope—and Preston too—and use them as leverage. A wave of guilt washed over him. This was exactly what he’d tried to prevent all those years ago, and now it was coming to pass in the worst possible way.

Kenny let out a long sigh. “Levi, if you’re listening, I know you got a heart in there somewhere. Doesn’t matter how much you pretend otherwise. You can come out and talk like a civilized man. Or… we can do this the hard way.”

There was a moment of silence. The bar’s patrons cowered in corners, too terrified to move. The bartender had ducked behind the counter as well, trembling. Levi carefully exchanged a glance with him, nodding at an old shotgun near the man’s knee. The bartender’s eyes flicked to it, then he pushed it toward Levi with shaking hands.

Kenny’s footsteps thudded, drawing closer to Levi’s hiding spot. “Alright then,” he said slowly, “looks like you need a little coaxing.”

Levi flung the shotgun upside down, firing from beneath the counter. Kenny had been expecting an attack, but not quite from that angle. The gun’s muzzle flashed, smoke billowing up. Kenny quickly grabbed a chair to dodge but the force of the bullet blasted into the chair, sending him reeling backward. He was slammed outside, toppling on the ground and spattering the concrete with his blood.

One of his squad members lunged forward to return fire, but Levi tossed a chair outside. The man’s eyes went wide as he was suddenly impaled by a grappling hook and blood darkened his shirt as Levi then used his body as a human shield from the other squad members’ bullets.

Bullets peppered the night, striking the window frame and sending shards of broken glass onto the street. Levi hit the ground in a crouch, adrenaline singing in his veins. The city was in uproar, with gunfire and shouts coming from multiple directions.

He swiftly replaced his ODM blades. The cables hissed, taut and ready. Launching a hook at a nearby building, he flew upward, scanning the dark sky. Off in the distance, he spotted movement—a wagon, perhaps, and glimpses of Anti-Personnel squad silhouettes. Eren and Historia were in that direction. But Penelope and Preston? They could be anywhere, either stashed away in some cell or en route to who knew where. The thought of them alone in Kenny’s clutches threatened to unsettle his focus, but he forced himself to stay sharp.

Landing lightly on a rooftop, Levi spotted two more Anti-Personnel members flanking a side street. They raised their guns, but Levi zig-zagged in midair, letting off a well-timed thrust from his gear that sent him hurtling between them. Before they could reload, he crossed his blades through both of their chests, blood arcing across the moonlit sky. Their bodies tumbled onto the deserted pavement below.

Gasping for breath, Levi paused only for a moment, listening for the roar of more gunfire. His Special Operation Squad was somewhere close by, responding to the commotion. He heard a distant shout—Armin’s voice, raw with alarm. Then the thunder of more shots. In the next few seconds, Levi glimpsed Jean and Armin grappling onto a wagon, presumably the same one carrying Eren and Historia. Armin fired a shot, and Levi flinched, hoping it wasn’t wasted. Yet more Anti-Personnel soldiers emerged, forcing Levi’s squad to retreat under heavy fire.

Levi surged forward, hooking onto the wagon’s frame in a desperate attempt to help, but the hail of bullets and the sudden arrival of additional enemies forced him to swerve off course. Seeing the situation was untenable, Levi signaled for his squad to break away. There were too many of Kenny’s soldiers. He and Sasha grabbed Armin and Jean and scrambled off the wagon, each of them white-faced, while Mikasa covered their escape with ODM maneuvers and swift blade strikes. Unable to seize Eren and Historia, they had no choice but to concede the battle… for the moment.

Landing in a secluded courtyard, Levi regrouped with Mikasa, Armin, Jean, and Sasha, all of them breathing hard. Gunshots still resonated in the distance. They exchanged grim looks—Eren and Historia were gone, and Levi’s mind spun with the knowledge that Penelope and Preston had also been taken, used as bargaining chips in a twisted game orchestrated by Kenny.

Armin spoke first, voice trembling, “Captain, what do we do? They took Eren and Historia. That wagon—”

Jean swallowed, finishing the thought, “It’s already out of sight.”

Levi’s expression remained cold, but inside, he was anything but calm. “We regroup,” he ordered, scanning the dark rooftops. “We find out where they’re taking Eren and Historia.” His jaw clenched. “And we deal with Kenny… no matter what it takes.”

Sasha noticed the flicker in his eyes. “Captain Levi, are you… are you okay?” she ventured. She had never seen quite that kind of rage in him before.

His chest heaved, adrenaline still surging through his veins. That lock of Penelope’s red hair flashed in his mind’s eye, mocking him. She was in danger because of him. Preston, too. The idea of them hurt or dead under Kenny’s watch made him sick. He pressed a shaking hand to his forehead, forcing himself to steady.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d figure out a way, no matter how impossible it seemed. Eren and Historia were crucial to the Scouts, yes, but Penelope and Preston meant more to him than he’d ever admitted. Even if Penelope’s hatred burned strong, he couldn’t let her and their son die at the hands of that sadistic man.

But Levi said nothing of Penelope or Preston. The weight of that personal crisis bore down on him, threatening to shatter his composure. He would not reveal his vulnerability, not here, not now. He simply tightened his grip on the hilts of his blades. “I’m fine,” he lied flatly. “Let’s move.”

Without another word, he led them into the labyrinth of streets, determined to track down any lead on the whereabouts of Eren, Historia, and the family he had unwittingly placed in mortal peril. He could hear Kenny’s mocking voice echoing in his ears, see that lock of red hair, and it nearly drove him mad. But he swallowed the rage, forcing himself into the mindset of a soldier.

For now, they had a mission: rescue Eren and Historia from government forces. But in the back of Levi’s mind, a second mission burned just as brightly, perhaps even more so: saving Penelope and Preston from the cruel grip of the man who once taught him how to kill, and how to survive. One thing was certain—he would not rest until he set things right, even if it meant carving through every last adversary who stood in his way.

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gyllenhaalstuff · 5 months ago

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hear me out....... very scary and very dom lou bloom with a blood kink.....

I hear you and I think you’re onto something… Now, trust me when I tell you that this fic is kinky. It’s not that long though, sorry <3

Switchblade

- Lou bloom ᯓᡣ𐭩

Summary: Your boss agrees to pay you extra if you sleep with him. He takes the chance to explore one of his fantasies.

Warnings: Knifeplay, sex for money, blood kink, oral (f receiving), mean Lou, dom Lou, piv sex, unprotected sex, overall dark themes.

Word count: 1058

Notes: If dark themes aren’t your thing, maybe skip this one<3

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You shifted on Boss's couch as he gripped your waist. See, money was money, and the LA rent was skyrocketing. Lou kissed you eagerly and roughly, with no concern. He pushed you down and pulled your top off. His blue eyes lightened up at the sight of your black, lace bra.

“I want to try something new,” he confessed and looked up at your now nervous expression. “What?” You asked, and froze when he pulled a switchblade from his pocket. He sighed at your wide, scared eyes, “I’m not the one begging for money here. If you’re not up for it, you can leave.” You swallowed and shook your head, “Just don’t hurt me.”

He looked condescendingly at you. “I wouldn’t do that, not in a meaningful way anyway. Cause if I did, we’d never get to do this again,” he shushed, like anything he just said comforted you in the slightest, before clicking the knife open. The cold metal ran across your chest, lightly scratching your skin. You thought your heart would stop from the adrenaline. Lou’s eyes followed the blade obsessively as it ran across your cleavage. The red scratches it left behind were far more enticing than he had expected. If he just pressed a little harder, maybe it would be even better…

You hissed at the sudden sting, “Ow!” Lou stilled and watched the tiny droplets run down between your breasts, down into the fabric of your bra. He placed his finger at the incision before following the blood trace, mapping it out. You tried to keep your breathing calm, but your rapid heartbeat commanded otherwise.

Lou opened his mouth and stuck in his bloody finger, sucking it clean. The metallic, sweet taste had his blood rushing down to his hardening cock. He placed the blade beside him before leaning over you to unhook your bra in the back. His bloody tongue entered your mouth, and the taboo element of it all affected your body in ways your head couldn’t, or simply didn’t want to, comprehend. Once your bra was off, he sat back up again and grabbed the switchblade. He let the edge carefully run over your peaked nipples, enough to keep you guessing but not enough to draw blood.

He then ran the blade down your stomach; you tensed up, not wanting any unexpected cuts there. Thankfully, Lou paused for a second, planned his next moves, and took off your jeans. You finally allowed yourself to breathe. He threw the blue denim to the side before putting the blade against your panties. The edge grazed the fabric before slipping inside the hem, cutting your underwear open from the inside. Lou slit up the front before sliding them down your legs.

The sharp metal found your inner thighs. Without warning, Lou made a shallow cut across the skin. You clenched your fist, not because of the pain, but because of the edge you were on. Tiny drops of blood sat above the surface-level cut. Lou salivated at the sight and leaned down to lick it clean. He followed the slit up, gathering the blood on his tongue, before spreading your legs and placing his mouth around your clit. Lou moaned at the taste of your blood and wetness, mixing together on his tongue.

When he slipped a finger into you, your face flushed with shame at how easily it entered you, at how wet this had gotten you. You hadn’t even noticed; you had been too busy being scared of him slipping up and tearing your guts out. Your wetness quickly exceeded the amount of blood smeared over your pussy. Lou didn’t have any options, but place the blade against your skin again.

You whined when he left your clit, embarrassing yourself. He grinned at your neediness, “Dirty fucking girl.” He sat up and laid the edge over your hip bone. “I bet you don’t even need the money,” he continued before dragging the knife across your skin. You gave up and allowed yourself to moan; you didn’t have much to lose.

While your blood rushed to the wound, Lou tore off his shirt, throwing it over his shoulder, and unbuttoned his pants. He pulled his cock out of his white boxers and stroked it a few times as he watched your blood seep out. Your body’s overwhelming need for stimulation made you forget who was staring down at you, and you felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight of his cock. You felt yourself needing it.

Lou leaned down and licked a stripe over the cut before leaning back up and spitting the mix of your blood and his saliva onto the tip of his cock. He spread it over his length as his shaky breaths filled the air. “Turn around,” he ordered and gestured with a spin of his fingers. You did as told and stuck your ass in the air, waiting eagerly to finally be fucked and for this to be over.

Lou lined up before thrusting in, with little to no resistance from you. You cried out and moaned as he fucked you at a relentless pace, resulting in him shoving your face down into the couch. “Fucking whore,” he huffed, “you love this.” His slick back was all messed up, with strands falling over his face. If you had turned around to see it, you would’ve cum instantly; not that you ever knew.

The sound of skin slapping, your pathetic moans, and Lou’s groans echoed through his stale studio apartment. You really didn’t want to like this, but Lou was right about you. He always was. You also didn’t want to humiliate yourself by cumming around his cock, but of course you did. You tried to muffle your moans in the couch cushion as you clenched and pulsed around him, drenching his already soaked cock.

Lou scoffed at you before thrusting into you hard, sending a wave of pain through your core. He continued his mean thrusting until he came, adding his cum to the blend of blood, saliva, and wetness.

He pulled out, sat on the couch, and brushed his hair back again before pulling up his pants and underwear. He grabbed his wallet on the coffee table, pulled out $50, and placed it in your hand. “Next time, just say you wanna fuck.”

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esmore · 8 days ago

Note

angst: reader used to be in the same crew as kyoka but left unexpectedly right after winning ‘Juste Debout 2016’ together which caused alot of anger and confusion to Kyoka (classic Mnet beef). But turns out you left because of a bad injury (or any other valid reason) and Kyoka was cold at first but softened up after your injury relapsed during a mission.

Pulse | Kyoka Yamamoto x fem!reader

Warnings: angst+fluff

Word count: 3.6 k

A/n: Aww guys, I’m so sorry I disappeared 😭😭 I really hope this fic was worth the wait. Enjoy! Also my wattpad: yavahyi

———————

The girls and I entered the combat zone with excitement. Looking around, I realized that we were the last team. In addition to us, Royal Family, Motiv, Ag Squad, Bumsup and.. Ojo Gang participated in the world of street woman fighter. Sitting down in their seats, the big screen began to show the reactions of other teams to us. No words hurt me, like Kyoka’s words

–彼女がRieとRHTokyoの背中にナイフを突き刺さないことを願ってるけど…あの子の癖を考えると、刃はもう研がれてるかもね。

(I hope she doesn’t stab Rie and RHTokyo in the back… but judging by her habits, the blade might already be sharpened.)

These words reflected on me as if they put on me the same loop from which I ran away for so many years. As if everything I tried to forget came back in one sentence. But Kyoka will not be left without an answer.

–まだ引きずってるの？もう9年も経ったんだよ。そろそろ大人になったら？

(You still can’t let it go, huh? It’s been nine years — time to grow up.)

I shouted her with poison in response. Rie, who was sitting next to me, slapped me on the hand, hinting that I should not start a drama. The whisper went all over the battle zone. Indeed, it couldn't be otherwise. After learning that Kyoka would also participate in this competition, I realized that we could not avoid a scandal, but I gave myself (girls and managers) a promise that I would avoid her. But how did I know what would happen very soon..

***

"Welcome to World Street Woman Fighter. I'm Sung Hanbin, your host. Here's how we'll decide the rankings for class mission. The fight judges will grade your performance individually and the rankings will be decided based on the sum of your crew members scores." Everyone welcomed the host. Some girls started screaming and admiring him. Hanbin is really handsome. He began to explain the rules and how I would judge them.

"All right, let's watch the rookie's dance video."

Everyone admired the creation of Aaliyah and Vanessa from Aq Squad. At the end of the clip, they were given the floor to choose the worst dancer. And as expected, they chose Kylie and Maya from the Royal Family.

– «We gave them time to rehearse, but instead of following direction, they filmed TikToks. It really irritated me. It felt like their heads weren’t in the game.» – Ag Squad girls argued their decision.

There were more discussions, but I couldn't focus. My thoughts were a jumble, and the conversations and judges' voices were white noise to me. They quickly moved from discussing the rookie class to watching the middle class. My heart skipped a beat. I felt Rena's comforting hand on mine.

***

It was a filming day for the middle class. We all took our positions, ready to dance. I felt weak all morning, but I didn't want to let my team down. When we were given the command to start, we all began dancing. The filming seemed to last forever, but it was actually just one day. During breaks, I always stepped away from everyone, seeking fresh air. Every shot was challenging for me, but I tried to hide my discomfort, as I didn't want us to be the worst dancers.

Here's a new location for filming, we're dancing with ojo gang and bumsup. Due to problems with the camera, we started shooting again what we had been shooting for an hour before. A whole hour of hellish torment. Listening to instructions, hearing comments, feeling that you are about to faint, and, oh, being in the same room with Kyoka, and even more so dancing next to you was a hellish torment.

– «Are you fucking kidding me?» – I was indignant at the words of the cameraman, to which other girls were added

– «please forgive me for the malfunction of the camera, but you will still have to dance it again.» – the cameraman's words angered the girls even more, but we had no choice.

We started dancing again. After a couple of steps, my chest became so hard that I stopped understanding where I was - everything around became vague and alien. I tried to breathe in the air deeper and concentrate on the dance, but it didn't work - the air seemed to run out somewhere halfway. My throat tightened, my heart was beating fast and unevenly, my temples were pounding.

Finally, we finished the dance and were given a break for 30 minutes. I moved away from my girls. It felt like I was suffocating. I even stopped, grabbed the wall, and I was terribly scared. My head seemed to be covered - the sounds dimmed, my eyes darkened. The whole body asked: "Stop, sit down, get some air, ask for help." Asuka came up to me and started saying something, but I didn't understand her. The space floated. The sound moved away, became deaf, like under water. Faces, voices, everything meraged into one muddy noise. I noticed that a few people gathered around me, but before I finally fainted, my eyes stopped on Kyoka, who was shaking me by the shoulders, trying to bring me to my senses.

____________________

I opened my eyes - everything is floating. White ceiling, bright light, some sounds... and silence inside. I'm in the hospital. It's immediately clear from the smell and the drop in the hand. My heart is pounding hard, as if with interruptions. My head is spinning, my body is weak, like after running in a dream.

I'm trying to remember what happened. Shooting? Cameras? Kyoka?.. a nurse came up to me. Calmly, without unnecessary words:

- «You have heart problems, maybe you know. You lost consciousness because of crazy loads. Your condition is unstable, the doctor recommends withdrawing from the show.»

I stayed silent. There was nothing to say.

There’d already been a heart surgery in 2016. I thought everything was fine.

And now — here we go again.

I was barely coming to my senses when the nurse appeared — bustling around, checking the IV, tapping something on the monitor.

Then she suddenly turned to me with a smile and said:

— «You have such a sweet girlfriend. She sat by your side all night, didn’t leave for a second.»

I nearly snapped my neck turning to her in shock.

— «What? What… girlfriend?..»

My brain couldn’t keep up. I wasn’t even fully aware of where I was, and now I was being told I had a girlfriend.

— «Kyoka, right? Isn’t she yours?» – the nurse went on, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. — «She’s been here since last night. Just left recently — we had to push her out of the room. So worried… If I were you, I’d hold on tight to someone like that.»

While I lay there, trying to process what was happening, the door clicked open — and there stood Rie.

— «Oh, you’re awake!» — she smiled wide, though I could hear the exhaustion in her voice. — «Honestly, I was starting to think you were faking it just to skip filming»

I tried to smirk, but it came out weak. My throat was dry, and even my eyes didn’t feel fully awake.

– «Very funny,» — I croaked. — «My heart literally stopped. Or almost.»

Rie stepped closer, sat at the edge of the bed, and looked at me seriously.

— «I know. We were all scared. Kyoka was panicking. She was barking orders on set — “bring this, call that, where’s the ambulance.” And then she nearly got into it with the on-call doctor. He tried to limit visitors, said it was too late, and she just looked him in the eye and said, “I’m not leaving. Either you let me in, or call your supervisor.”»

I blinked. This morning just kept getting weirder.

— «Wait, so she really… stayed here?»

Rie nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world:

— «From the evening on. Sat by your bed and didn’t move. Said, “If she wakes up, I want to be the first thing she sees.” Just like a dorama scene» — Rie laughed.

I pushed myself up on my elbows, even though my body protested.

— «Did she… say anything? Like…»

— «Like she’s in love with you and wants have your kids?» — Rie smirked. — «No. But her eyes? They said it all. You were everything to her. Honestly, I was shocked. I thought your friendship died ages ago. The way she acted on the show? It felt like she erased you from her life.»

I sank back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers.

— «I honestly don’t understand anything anymore… I thought she hate me.»

Rie sighed, leaned closer, locking eyes with me:

— «Maybe you thought that. But clearly, she didn’t. So when she comes back — and trust me, she will — be ready. And don’t pull that “what are you trying to say?” face. It’s suspiciously cute, by the way.»

I snorted.

And then — silence. Just the beep of the monitor and the steady rhythm of my heart finally beating the way it’s supposed to.

Though who knows… maybe it’ll falter again the moment Kyoka walks in.

But she didn’t.

And somehow… I expected that. What did I want from her, after the way she treated me?Did I even have the right to ask for anything, when I was the one who left — left us?She had every reason to ignore me, to pretend I didn’t exist.

But if she hated me so much…

Why did she stay with me all night? Why did she care so much, after how cruel she was to me on that show?

Why…

—————————

— «The girls from RHTokyo gave us some trouble on set, but despite that, they did well. The worst dancers were the girls from Ag Squad.»

At those words, I let out a sigh of relief and released Rena’s hand, which I’d been squeezing so hard it probably turned purple. I could feel my girls patting me on the back and shoulder, giving their support. This mission ended pretty well for us, all things considered.

—————————

After the shoot, we returned to the hotel where all the teams were staying. Thank God we were on different floors. But, of course, I wasn’t that lucky in every way. First — my room was on the twentieth floor. And second — fucking hell, my room was right next to Kyoka’s. Seoul clearly had it out for me.

Just another slap in the face from life. The girls wanted to grab dinner at a café, but I declined and headed back to the hotel alone. As I walked in, I noticed Kyoka waiting for the elevator. Since there was only one, I chose to ride up with her. Thanks, but climbing twenty flights of stairs didn’t sound appealing — especially after being in the hospital.

We were both headed to the twentieth floor, and with the ride being so long, the silence between us became suffocating. Then, to my surprise, she suddenly spoke.

— «Why did you never tell me about your heart condition? Why didn’t you say anything about the surgery? Why did you just leave… without a word?»

*****

Flashback, 2016, Paris

Joy overflowed in me every single second. Everything inside was screaming: we did it!

Kyoka and I hadn’t just won another battle — we had conquered the world. Juste Debout. Paris.

The finals against the Dutch duo, Jeems and Lil’ Blade. We were standing on stage while the crowd roared like an ocean. I felt like I was on top of the world, and that world was applauding me.

And then — a sudden blow. Not to the body.

To everything.

I remember the dressing room dimming, like someone had turned off the light in my eyes. A loud hum in my ears. My head — completely empty.

Then came the ambulance. The sirens. The hospital.

An oxygen mask. People talking way too fast. And the doctor’s voice cutting through the noise:

“Congenital defect.” “Complication.” “Life-threatening.” “Surgery.”

And then — silence.

——————

I woke up in a white hospital room. Everything was quiet. Next to me — a monitor, beeping in steady, dull tones. I blinked. My throat was dry, my body heavy like soaked cloth. The door opened. A doctor walked in — gray-haired, eyes exhausted. He looked at me like he already knew he was about to say something that would break me.

He sat on the edge of the bed and spoke slowly, almost with pity:

— «The surgery was successful. We managed to save you. But if you keep dancing like you did before — your heart won’t make it. Next time… might be the last. I strictly forbid you from going back to your old training. No competitions. No stages. No pushing your limits. This isn’t advice. It’s the condition for staying alive.»

I just stared at him. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even breathe. It felt like every word he said hammered into me like a nail. Then he left. And I was alone.

No pain. No fear. Just emptiness. Like everything I had lived for — had simply vanished.

I was a world champion. And now I was forbidden from doing the one thing my heart beat for.

And now… it beat too quietly.

⸻

They discharged me a week later. No one visited during that time. My family stayed in touch through social media — they were in Japan, and I was in Paris.

When I flew back to Osaka, I went to the studio late at night. My coach was there, arms crossed, waiting. She wasn’t surprised. She already knew.

— «I’m leaving Rushball,» – I said.

She didn’t argue. Just nodded.

There was understanding in her eyes. And a quiet sadness.

— «What about Kyoka? Are you going to talk to her?» – she asked.

— «No. I… I just can’t anymore. Please ask her not to contact me. Say whatever you need to, just… don’t tell her the real reason I’m leaving.»

Another nod. That was it. End of the conversation.

And for me — the end of an era.

⸻

The next day, my phone exploded.

Notifications.

From Kyoka.

“Are you serious?”

“After everything?”

“What, you’re some queen now?”

“Just say you’re full of yourself and stop acting like the victim.”

I didn’t reply.

How do you even explain that you can’t do the thing you love anymore — because your own heart has turned against you?

⸻

A week passes.I’m walking through the city to the pharmacy. Bag slung over my shoulder, hood up, silence.

And then — a voice:

— “Y/n?”

I turn around.

Her.

Kyoka is standing right in front of me.

Her face twisted — half rage, half pain.

— «You ran away,» – she says. – «Like a rat.»

I say nothing.

— «You didn’t even bother to say goodbye properly. Or at least explain why.»

I lower my eyes.

— «Oh right, you’re a ‘champion’ now. Too busy for us mere mortals, huh?»

— «Kyoka…» – I whisper.

— «Shut up!» – she yells. – «We won together, Y/n. That was our victory. And you stole it. Took it and vanished.»

I try to speak, but don’t even get the chance.

A slap.

She turns and walks away. I stay frozen.

My cheek is burning. My chest — hollow. And all I want to say is:

“I just wanted to stay alive…”

But there’s no one left to hear it. It was all too much for the sixteen-year-old me.

⸻

The hum of the elevator.

A small space where the air feels compressed. Kyoka stands across from me, shoulders tense. Her eyes pierce into me, searching my face for answers.

Ding.

The elevator doors open, but I don’t even have time to move. She grabs my arm — sharply, firmly — and pulls me with her.

— «What are you doing?!» I blurt out, panic in my voice.

She doesn’t answer. Just keeps pulling.

We walk down the hallway. She unlocks a door, rushes inside, throws down her bag — the keycard clatters to the floor.

The door slams shut. I stand there, still stunned. She turns to me. There’s a storm in her eyes.

— «Why did you hide all of this from me?!» Her voice cracks. «Do you know what I’ve felt all these years?»

I swallow the lump in my throat. Pain in my chest. But I know what I want to say:

— «Why did you wait for me at the hospital?»

Silence.

Her breathing hitches. No answer. Just a look — straight into my soul.

— «Why did you hide your illness and the surgery?»

A question for a question. Great. Silence again.

Kyoka lowers her head. Her hands are trembling. She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something sharp, but her voice breaks. Then she moves toward me. Fast. Certain. She grabs my shoulders and pulls me into a hug, hard.

We cry. Both of us. Together. Not sobbing, not wailing. Just… unraveling.She holds me like if she lets go, I’ll disappear.

— «It was hard to let you go…» she whispers into my hair. «But I had to. I couldn’t hold on. I wasn’t strong enough. It was unbearable…»

I tremble.

— «All this time… everything we lived through… and one illness shattered it all. My heart…»

She lets out a shaky breath.

— «But you know what hurt the most? Not that you disappeared. But that I… I…»

— «That you what?» Kyoka asks, her voice barely audible.

Her voice is trembling. No anger. No reproach. Just confusion. And fear — fear of hearing something she might’ve longed for… or dreaded.

I exhale. Like I’m stepping off a cliff. But I speak anyway.

— «I wasn’t just afraid of you finding out about the illness…»

Pause. She looks into my eyes, unblinking.

— «I was afraid that if you found out how much I loved you… you’d break my heart before the disease ever could.»

She freezes. I feel her fingers tightening on my back. Silent. I go on, my voice cracking:

— «You were older, stronger, more talented. You were like fire to me — impossible, blinding. I looked at you and wanted to be worthy. Not just to be your dance partner. But to be the one who… who loves you. I always loved you. From the very beginning. And I still do…»

I barely get the last words out. My lips are trembling, my breath shattered. I’m terrified to meet her eyes — but I do anyway.

Kyoka is still. Not even breathing. Her lips pressed tight, as if holding something in.

— “Kyoka…” I whisper.

And in that moment, she closes the distance. No words.

She grabs my face, my cheeks, my chin — and kisses me.

Deeply. Fiercely. Tenderly.

Like the kiss has been waiting for years.

I don’t even have time to process it — just feel her hands, her breath, the salty taste of tears on our lips. Mine? Hers? I can’t tell anymore.

She pulls back for a second. Looks me in the eyes. Her gaze is burning.

— “You’re such an idiot…” she says, almost laughing and crying at the same time.

Kyoka steps back, her eyes red, her breath torn to shreds. She looks at me like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life — and it finally came.

— “After Osaka…” she whispers. “After that slap… I thought it was over. That you erased me from your life as easily as you slipped out of mine with no explanation.”

She takes a step back, like her words are burning her throat.

— “I hated you. And at the same time… I couldn’t live without you. I wandered the streets where we used to walk after practice… couldn’t sleep, eat, dance. Everything lost its meaning. Everything inside me screamed: ‘Come back. Tell me this was all a mistake.’”

Her voice drops, almost breaks:

— “Do you know what it’s like? Replaying that moment over and over? When I called you ‘stuck-up’, hit you… and left. Then stood in the elevator with hands shaking like a child’s. I wanted to come back. Say I loved you. That I’d forgive everything, if you’d just explained.”

Kyoka pauses. Then steps forward again and takes my hands.

— «I wasn’t mad because you left. I was mad because you left in silence. Because you didn’t give me the choice. I would’ve stayed. With you. To the end. Even if you collapsed — I would’ve held you up. But you never let me.»

She exhales, clutching my hands tightly:

— «I carried that pain for nine years. A war between resentment and love. And now that you’re in front of me again, with those damn eyes and that unbearable closeness that still drives me crazy… I’m not letting you disappear again. Not this time. Not tonight…»

————————

The girls from the other teams were clearly stunned when Kyoka and I walked onto the set together — not just side by side, but close. Almost too close. Like we’d never been apart.

Someone froze with a water bottle halfway to their lips. Someone stared. Someone pretended not to notice — but their eyes still slid our way.

And when the girls from her own team saw her back during the outfit change — covered in fine, fresh scratches — and those unmistakable hickeys on her neck…

The silence in the locker room thickened like steam. Someone bit their lip. Someone whispered:

— «Is that from… her?»

And Ibuki just exhaled a single word:

— «Finally.»

Kyoka glanced at her reflection in the mirror — the scratches, the marks, herself — and smirked ever so slightly.No hiding. No excuses. Hair tucked behind the ear. Chin up. Shoulders square.

A proud, almost defiant look in the mirror.

As if it wasn’t just a reflection — but a trophy.

And in that moment, no one needed any words. Everyone understood.

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