#niragi angst

The Beach courtyard felt like a pressure cooker set to explode the second you stepped out. Hatter was on his soapbox—yada yada, Beach rules, nobody cares—but all the real heat was coming off Niragi. He was a live wire, pacing the dusty concrete like a wolf who'd caught the scent of fresh blood. One minute, he was fine; the next, he was shoving some random guy clear out of the way just because the dude dared to exist in his proximity.

Click. The sound of a collective turning away. Everyone at the Beach had mastered the art of selective blindness. You look away, you survive.

But you? You were never good at following the rules.

"Cut it out," you snapped, stepping directly into his path. It was a stupid, reckless move. You knew it the second the words left your mouth.

Niragi stopped dead. His pacing stuttered, his heavy boots scuffing the concrete. He stared at you like you were an abstract concept that had suddenly manifested in his reality. Disbelief. Then rage. His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, and that pissed-off, challenging half-smile, the one that promised violence, pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"You got a problem?" he asked, his voice a switchblade, sharp, too loud, slicing through the mundane hum of Hatter’s speech.

"Yeah," you fired back, meeting his glare head-on. "You're acting like a moron."

A few people froze, mid-conversation, mid-drink. They watched, terrified but glued, out of the corners of their eyes. You didn’t care. Niragi took a step closer, crowding your space. You didn't flinch. You didn’t back up.

"Oh, you think you’re tough?" he sneered and shoved your shoulder. It wasn’t a killer blow, just a test. A little nudge to see if you'd fold.

You didn't. You shoved back. Harder.

He actually stumbled. The crowd murmured. Hatter, mid-tirade, actually looked over.

That did it.

Niragi lunged. His fingers hooked into your shirt, ready to slam you into the nearest flimsy plastic table. But you were faster. You caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted the joint, and used his own momentum to force him back a full step.

For a heartbeat, his eyes went wide, pure shock. Then, the surprise melted away, replaced by something dark and utterly feral.

"You wanna fight?" he hissed, low and vicious.

"No," you said, your voice just a breath. "I want privacy."

Before he could process the sheer absurdity of the statement, you grabbed him by the back of his neck, a brutal, controlling grip, and hauled him away from the crowd. He cursed, a stream of filthy, furious Japanese, struggling and yanking against your hand, but you didn't slow down. You dragged him down one of the long, empty hallways, his heavy boots scraping and stuttering as he fought to keep up with your relentless pace.

"Let go, you little—" he snapped.

"Shut up," you said, and shoved him hard into a shadowed corner, hidden behind a towering stack of forgotten crates. No one ever came back here. Perfect.

He opened his mouth, fire in his eyes, ready to spit out whatever insult bubbled up, but you had him pinned before a single word could escape. Your hand slammed onto his chest, shoving him against the wall, while your other hand locked around his jaw, tilting his head.

He froze.

Not from fear. Never fear. But from pure, staggering surprise. Like he couldn't comprehend that you, of all people, would dare to manhandle the infamous Suguru Niragi in broad daylight.

"You really wanna pretend you don’t like this?" you murmured, your voice low and dangerously close.

His throat worked, bobbing hard. He glared, the hatred in his eyes warring with the fierce, betraying heat that was already flooding his face.

"Fuck you," he managed, the words a raw rumble.

You leaned in closer, your mouth almost brushing his ear. "Keep talking."

His breath hitched, a stuttered intake of air. That was all the admission you needed.

You shoved him harder against the wall, your thigh sliding aggressively between his legs. A quick, sharp gasp escaped him, a sound he immediately tried to choke down with a harsh scoff. Too late.

Your fingers tightened brutally in his hair. He hissed in pain, and you used the leverage to tilt his head back, forcing his mouth to part on instinct.

"Always running your mouth," you ground out, your voice a threat. "Always acting untouchable. But right now?"

You squeezed his jaw until his eyes fluttered.

"You’re shaking."

"I’m not," he started, his voice thick, but you silenced him with pressure, your thigh driving up and finding purchase between his legs. His hips bucked, a desperate, automatic move, before he could physically stop them.

That finally broke his mask.

"Please," he muttered, the word barely audible, a ragged plea torn from his chest.

You let a slow, utterly satisfied smirk spread across your face. "That easy?"

He looked absolutely furious with himself, like his own traitorous body had committed the ultimate betrayal. You didn't give him time to recover. You spun him around, his chest slamming against the cold wall, and your hand wedged hard between his shoulder blades to keep him locked there. His palms flattened against the rough concrete, and a shaky breath escaped him.

"On your knees," you commanded.

He didn't move. Pure, toxic pride held him rigid.

You didn't ask again. You grabbed a fistful of his hair, dragging his head down with a vicious yank. His knees hit the ground with a dull, painful thud, and he let out a choked sound that he instantly tried to swallow back.

"You look good like that," you said, circling him slowly.

"Shut up," he rasped, but the way he was squeezing his thighs together ruined the bite in his voice.

You pushed your thumb against his lower lip. "Open."

He hesitated. Two seconds of his pridefulness.

Then he opened.

“Good boy.”

You slid your thumb inside. He glared, but his lips sucked around the digit despite himself, his eyes already glassy with humiliation and something far, far needier. When you pulled your hand out, a glistening string of spit followed. His face flushed a deep crimson, his eyes flicking away, ashamed at the speed of his surrender.

"You’re gonna listen," you stated, your hand gripping the back of his neck like a leash. "Or I’ll leave you here like this, hard and desperate."

His breath hitched.

"Don’t," he whispered.

You smiled coldly "Then behave."

You forced him down again, his cheek pressed hard to your thigh, his breathing uneven. You grabbed his hips, yanked him closer to your body, and he let out a little choked noise, half pain, half an uncontrollable rush of want.

He hated how much he wanted this. You could feel the hatred shaking through him.

You pushed him down further, until he was braced against the floor with trembling arms, forehead bowed, his body completely open for you. Utterly broken down in a forgotten, dark corner of the Beach where no one could witness his spectacular fall.

"Good boy," you murmured, guiding him firmly into position. "Now stay still and take it as you need it."

He whimpered, a quiet, raw sound, and didn’t move an inch.

You pressed him closer against the wall, one hand still tangled possessively in his hair, the other gripping his hip. His knees dug into the unforgiving concrete, trembling; his arms braced against the dusty floor. Every inhale he took was a stutter, every exhale a small, desperate whine he tried and failed to swallow.

"You’re already leaking for me," you breathed, leaning in close until your mouth brushed the shell of his ear. "Even though you keep pretending you don’t need it."

He growled, his voice rough, chest heaving. "I, don’t—"

You cut him off with a firm press of your thigh, rocking him down, your hips grinding instinctively against his. He jerked violently, gasping, his fists scrabbling uselessly at the floor. His words tried to fight you. His body didn't care.

"Shut up," you said, your voice a low, dangerous growl. "Move your hands where I tell you."

He tried to resist, huffing curses and muttering, but you caught his wrists, pinning them roughly above his head. His chest hit the wall, forehead bowed, and you leaned in, your teeth grazing the delicate shell of his ear.

"You think holding out will make you strong? It won't," you whispered. "It’ll just make this worse for you."

He whimpered, a sound that was half protest, half plea, trying to twist away. You yanked his hair, forcing his head back, and he let out a sharp, choked noise. That’s the sound you’d been waiting for.

"Good boy," you murmured. "That’s it. Stop pretending you’re in control. You’re mine right now."

His hips bucked, an instinctive, total betrayal, even as his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed in furious shame. He hated it. Hated that he loved it. Hated that you had stolen this much power over him.

You slid your hand down to the front of his pants, brushing him roughly, teasing, dragging out every single reaction. He hissed, pressing forward, digging his nails into the floor, trying to push back without moving away.

"Say it," you demanded, low and sharp. "Say who you belong to."

He shook his head frantically. "I, don’t—"

You tightened your grip in his hair, tugging his head back further. "Louder. Now."

"I—I’m yours!" he spat out, the words cracking, his eyes watering with the humiliation.

You smirked. Perfect. That tiny, hairline crack in his armour. You yanked him down to his knees fully, spreading him roughly, and he let out a strangled, frustrated whine.

His pride was gone. His body was a complete, messy betrayal. You didn't even bother slowing down. Every brutal push, every possessive grab, every hard press was designed to make him submit completely.

He tried to hiss, tried to curse, tried to snap at you through gritted teeth, but each time his hips betrayed him again, each time his chest hit the wall or floor and he whimpered under your controlling hand, you knew he’d lost.

You drove into him, rough, deliberate. His body shook uncontrollably, arms braced, his back arching, cheeks wet with tears he desperately didn't want to show. He tried to keep his eyes on yours, tried to glare through the hazy desire, but all he could do was shiver and moan.

"Look at you," you murmured, your teeth grazing his shoulder. "All pride gone. Just taking it like you need it."

He hissed, head falling forward, lips trembling. "Stop… please… I—"

You pressed your hand into his jaw again, tilting his head up. "No talking. You’ll get used to being quiet soon enough."

His thighs clenched around nothing. His hands fisted the floor. He was a helpless, desperate, messy wreck, and you revelled in every second of it.

When he finally came, it was choking, small sobs breaking through, his body shaking like he couldn’t contain himself. You kept him pressed to you, riding him through every pulse, every shudder, letting him ride out every humiliating, desirable moment of broken pride.

"Good boy," you whispered again, dragging him back close. "Mine. Don’t ever forget it."

He whimpered, his chest heaving, his pride shattered, tears streaked across his face. He didn’t say anything. He couldn't. All he could do was let you have him, completely.

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He was far more impulsive than he used to be. He was smarter in the other world, he actually had a little bit of sense.

Why did he have blood on his clothes? Holding that rifle everywhere he went?

He was almost unrecognizable. You weren't sure who you were looking at when you both settled to the beach.

Psychologically, you knew. He needed people to be intimated by him. He refuses to be bullied anymore.

But you know what they say: "The bullied becomes the bully."

It was sad to see him like this. Acting out of line and purely intrusive. He wasn't the same.

Sometimes you wondered if he really was the same, just not masking his true intentions until now. Until there were no consequences.

Distancing yourself was easier than you'd like to admit. You barely spent any time together anymore, but you knew you needed something else to do.

Chishiya asked you before. Asked you to help him to steal the cards, you were close with Niragi after all. He hoped you'd distract him.

You denied at first. You told him it was because you don't think you'd be much help. But now, you think it was because you couldn't betray him. Not yet.

But walking down the hallway with a walkie talkie stuffed in your back pocket, Niragi and the other militants just a few feet away.

If they'd get caught, you'd be afraid of Niragi finding out you were in on it too.

He's far too stupid, now. He wouldn't think you would do that, right?

But you had the first hand view to Chishiya ratting them out. He knew you wouldn't say a word, because if you did, everyone would know you were in on it too.

You were a bit frustrated when Chishiya turned out to be untrustworthy. But not for the reasons you convinced yourself of.

Not because he could hurt the others. Not because he just betrayed everyone to your face.

But because you wanted to see the look in Niragi's eyes when he put the pieces together about you distracting them.

To see the new way Niragi would look at you, betrayed and possibly hurt.

He deserved it after all.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

You huff, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. "We don't even know if we need visas anymore."

"I'm not risking it and I know you won't either." You know Kuina and An can hear everything, it's not like the walls are thick but you're thankful they let you both have your privacy. "We don't know when the next game will start."

You pull out a packet of rice and pour it into a pot. "Don't use terms like 'we' when you decide this all on your own."

"I did but you shouldn't expect any different." You can practically hear him shrugging. "I have to leave today."

"You can't even walk let alone win a game!" You shout, the bag of rice ripping open and spilling everywhere. "Fuck."

"Let me help." Chishiya says, limping over to you. "Just sit do-

"Stop trying to baby me! I can handle a bag of spoilt rice Chishiya. You can't handle an adult conversation where you discuss something as important as joining another game yet you can help me clean up unimportant messes?"

He frowns. "That's not what you're mad about."

You know it's not. "Whatever just go away."

"I'm leaving to enter the game today." He reminds you.

"I know."

"Are you going to join?"

You shake your head. "I don't need to, not yet."

He nods. "How many days on your visa?"

It hadn't been something you'd begun to worry about, the time was more than enough. "I think 11"

"I'll be fine." He mumbles.

You hate that he seems to understand why you're upset. "I know you will."

"You're scared." He points out as though it's not obvious.

You forgo cleaning the rice in favour of pushing your way into his arms. "I'm terrified, what if you don't come back?"

"I will." He reassures you, his hand hesitantly brushing against your waist. "Don't think about pointless things like that, if I die you just keep going."

"Don't say stuff like that!" You smack his arm, tears threatening to fall. "You can't die Chishiya."

"Why?" He asks, pulling back a little to look at you.

The words are no more than a whisper but you knew he heard them considering how close your bodies were.  "Because I need you."

He laughs, shaking his head. "You don't need anyone, I don't need anyone, you want."

"Fine then I fucking want you okay. Is it so bad I want you to be safe?"

"I will be."

It's easy to ignore the way your nose grows stuffy as you shed a few tears. "You don't know that."

"I do."

"How." You mumble into his chest.

He looks the the ceiling as though genuinely considering his answer. "Because you don't know how to fix the power generator if it goes out and I'm pretty sure if it does you'll die which although seems great because I'll never have to hear you complain again is more trouble than it's worth considering the fact there's a great chance you'll follow me to the afterlife, which by the way I don't believe it, and you'll continue to be just as irritating there too."

You push him away in favour of going back to clean the rice. "I should have let you bleed out on the doorstep.

"You wouldn't do that." He laughs

You ask him. "Why are you so sure?"

"Because I fucking need you." He imitates you.

It's almost like a reflex when you throw the broom at him. "Fuck you."

"Can't, don't have condo-"

Kuina pushes past Chishiya, opening up the cupboard containing the canned food. "This looks fun but I'm hungry."

Chishiya glares at you whilst you hold back a laugh, your chest shaking as you try to be quiet.

"Can't wait to leave." You hear him mutter as he sits down at the table.

Kuina looks at him before pointing to the hall. "Door is right there."

"Great, now I won't get lost." He thanks sarcastically.

You watch them bicker as you tip the dirty rice into a bag, a smile on your face as you force yourself to forget the fact that in a few hours, the house that had become somewhat of a temporary home would be lacking one crucial person.

Lunch passes by as no more than a blur, the food you'd helped Kuina make sitting practically untouched on your plate by the time everyone else had finished. "You weren't hungry?" An asks, taking your plate as you'd asked.

"Not really." You force a smile. "I'm going to lay down for a little I think my head is starting to hurt."

You don't wait for a response from anyone before you pull yourself up, walking directly to the bedroom and closing the door behind you.

It turns out that forgetting Chishiya would be gone was harder to forget than you'd ever imagine.

You don't ask who it is when there's a knock on the door, your instincts know who it is before they walk inside. "You're being a crybaby."

"Fuck you." You know it is probably ineligible from the way your face is buried in the pillows that you and Chishiya share but you don't care. "Go away."

The bed dips as he sits down."I'm not going away, not until later."

"Stop making jokes." 

"Look you're right, I could die but I won't and if I do you'll be okay. I told you not to fall for me, not here but you didn't listen and this is what the outcome is. I won't baby you and tell you that it's going to be fine because we both know what could happen but I'd rather not leave here with you being sad and depressed." You force yourself to look at him despite how awful you must appear.

"Because you'd struggle in the game if I was sad?"

He snorts before schooling his face when he catches your expression. "I wouldn't let it affect me so no but afterwards it would be annoying."

"If there even is an afterwards." You say aloud with it thinking.

"I haven't lost a game up to now and I won't anytime soon so stop being ridiculous and come and show me how to play this stupid card game you kept mumbling about ." He pulls the blanket off you.

You manage to smile at the way he remembered the conversation you'd had two days ago. Chishiya, still unable to get out of bed, you'd wanted to try and keep him company, but despite your 30-minute pleading session for him to let you teach him a few of your favourite card games he had refused.

"Chishiya?" You grab his hand before he opens the door.

He spins on his heel to face you. "Yeah?"

"Please don't die on me."

"I won't." He smiles, pulling the door open.

Kuina and An are already sitting around the makeshift table, the deck of cards in the middle with various snacks dotted around the floor.

You take a seat on one of the pillows, Chishiya sitting beside you. Kuina catches your eye, mouthing an "Are you okay?"

You nod with a smile, despite knowing you looked sad. You wanted to enjoy today, even if it was for a short while you could pretend like everything was normal. "Isn't it morbid playing card games considering where we are?"

You laugh at the question An asks as she shuffles the cards. "Not really, I think it's kind of ironic."

"Idiotic more like." Chishiya scoffs.

You and Kuina both roll your eyes at the comment, An seemingly unbothered as she hands you the pack of cards to which you deal out equally.  "So the name of the game is called cheat but some people call it-"

"Bullshit." An finishes.

You raise your eyebrows at her. "You know it?"

"Of course I do." She laughs. "I'm the best at it."

"I doubt it."

You both laugh, as Kuina and Chishiya stare at you both in confusion. "The game also has another name, some people refer to it as "I doubt it."

"Ohhhhh!" Kuina claps. "Now I get it."

"Okay forget this im going to sleep." Chishiya makes to stand but you pull him back down by the pocket of his pants.

"Sit and shut up." He raises his eyebrows in something akin to shock before huffing and sliding back down into his previous position. "So as I was saying, the player to the left of the dealer, which would be Kuina, starts by placing between 1-4 cards face down in a discard pile in the centre. The player must state what the cards they have placed down are but they do not have to tell the truth. They do however have to keep the value the same. For example, I could say I have the 3 kings but place down 3 of the clubs... are you all following?"

You wait for all three of them to say yes before continuing. "The other players can call "cheat" or "bullshit if they think the player is lying about the value of their cards."

"So what happens then?" Chishiya asks, looking at his cards.

"Well, I'd say Kuina, for example, were to say that if you were to call cheat you would have to show your cards to everyone. If Kuina was right you would have to pick up all the cards in the centre, then it would be Kuina's turn to go. If Kuina is wrong, the person on the left of the player, which would be me, will go next."

"And if no one calls the bullshit thing?" You almost choke at hearing Chishiya cuss but you hold it back.

"Well I would take my turn but I must declare the value of my cards to be only one up or down from what you have said yours is." You answer him before turning back to Kuina and An. "For example, Chishiya says his cards were kings. I would have to say mine are queens, kings or aces."

Kuina nods enthusiastically, smiling at her cards. Her body angled away from the rest of the table. "I get it, so how do you know who the winner is."

"The person who gets rid of all their cards first is the winner."

Chishiya hums. "Who's going first?"

"An?" You offer.

"Sure." She smiles, placing down one card. "I have the 7 of diamonds."

"Bullshit." Chishiya spits with a grin the second she finishes her sentence.

You can't stop yourself from laughing at how his face falls when An turns over her card, the 7 of diamonds. "Don't forget to pick it up."

"Go away." He huffs, picking up the card as though it's tainted.

The game passes like that, thankfully no arguments arise despite a near miss when Kuina calls Chishiya a liar because "you're a bad liar your face looks weird when you lie." Only for him to respond with "Your face looks weird all the time but I still believe you when it's necessary."

You'd had so much fun playing, the memory of your sister beside you as you silently remember the way you used to help her cheat at the game against her friends. She would always call you her eyes.

"I have to leave soon." Chishiya whispered as he pulled you aside, Kuina and An still at the table packing up the cards. "I need to be there before I miss my opportunity."

"I know but can't you stay just a little longer?" You ask, fighting the urge to lock him in the bedroom and prevent him from leaving.

"I can't risk not getting a place in the game. I'll be back but I have to leave soon."

"How soon?" You don't need him to answer, the sickening feeling in your stomach tells you what you need to know.

He looks to the floor. "In the next thirty minutes."

You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to cry. "Okay."

"Fuck." He huffs, grabbing your wrist. "Come with me."

You let him pull you into the bedroom, waiting until he closes the door to speak. "What's wrong?"

"I'm going to come back but if I don't the generator won't hold out with all three of you using it for an extended period of time. If it comes between saving yourself, Kuina or An you know what to choose."

You ignore the subtlety of his message. "You'll come back it doesn't matter if the generator won't work."

"I will but if I don't."

"But you will." You insist.

"I will."

"Chishiya?" You whisper, taking a step closer.

"Hmm?"

"Can I kiss you?"

He takes a step closer, closing the already small gap between you. "Are you incapable of making your own decisions?"

"No?" You shake your head.

"Then don't ask."

If you could freeze a moment in time this would be it, his hand resting against your hip, albeit awkwardly. His lips pressed against yours, your body ignoring the need for oxygen by supplementing it with a need for him.

He is the one who breaks the kiss, his eyes mapping out your face before smiling a little. "You'll be fine."

"You have to come back."

His tone was definitive. "I will. I should leave now, don't come out until I leave. I'll tell Kuina to come in here." 

You so badly wanted to beg him to stay, the fear that he was walking into his death was almost crushing and despite how final the words felt you'd hate yourself forever if you missed an opportunity to say them. "I love you, please be safe."

"Tell me when this is all over." He places a light kiss on your forehead before extracting himself from your hold and leaving the room. You watch as the door closes behind him, the silence in the room is deafening without him.

You tried so hard to ignore the sound of the front door opening and closing, so so hard, but you couldn't, you couldn't stop yourself from hearing him leave nor stop the tears you'd been holding back since early morning.

It’s cold. Nothing covers your naked skin and even though a blanket and some clothes are within reach, you can’t bring yourself to pull them over you. As if something is physically preventing you from doing that. You’re shivering with cold and yet can’t do anything about it.

The bathroom door swings open. You flinch. Not that anyone cares. This is not normal. You weakly remind yourself. Staring straight ahead, you don’t see what Niragi’s doing. You guess by the sound of his movements that he has to be dressing.

“Are you going to stay like that?” he scoffs when he’s finished, nudging you with the muzzle of his rifle. Your eyes close. Somehow, a little part of you manages to hope for something, be it death, another strike, anything but this nothingness. You will him to pull the trigger with your mind, but the shot never comes. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

“Well, suit yourself,” he scoffs and without paying you any more attention, he leaves the room.

You listen to his footsteps retreating and as they grow quieter, tension begins to seep out of your body. In the silence and emptiness of the room, you can finally relax. Your breathing calms down too. You aren’t holding your breath anymore, anticipating his next move. Still, you feel numb. Too numb to move, yet your body keeps shivering in a weak attempt to create heat. It’s a wonder it tries so hard to keep you alive after everything you’ve put it through. Your head is empty, everything hurts and the pain is the only thing your mind is able to register. 

A wish keeps bouncing around in your brain until you finally fall asleep - let this all be a nightmare.

You wake up hours later, you guess, seeing as the sky is already dark and filled with stars. You listen to your surroundings, lying motionless for a few minutes before you relax. 

Niragi isn’t back yet. 

Then you begin noticing things - like how you’re freezing and your body is almost too stiff to move. Your teeth are chattering. All your joints hurt. Most of all though, you feel sore. 

Pain has its grip on every part of your body. The obvious parts that Niragi abused so roughly hurt the worst, closely followed by your scalp and the bite on your shoulder. Also throat. And your neck, no doubt bruised all kinds of blues and purples. It hurts like hell and you know it would be painful to speak so you don’t. 

At least some of the lethargy from before has disappeared. You feel angry with your boyfriend. Betrayed. Hurt. A lowly simmering mix of feelings that bubble somewhere just underneath your skin. It’s enough that it makes you drag your exhausted body into the bathroom and run yourself a hot bath.

You don’t want to be a mess. Least of all because of him.

He can’t be the end of you. Not after all the effort that went into building yourself as you are now.

You hiss as the water scalds your skin. Still it doesn’t even compare to the pain you’re already in. You welcome the heat with open arms. It hurts, but it grounds you. Once you’re used to the temperature, you turn the knob to raise it until you feel the burning again. You slide down until the water comes up to your chin.

It’s like lying in molten lava but it feels so right.

Memories come rushing through your mind - Niragi storming into your room, raging, pinning you to the bed, tearing off your clothes. Making you his toy, playing with you until you broke - until he broke you, and then some because he’s into pain and tears.

Perhaps not your pain and tears in particular, you know it’s nothing personal. You know he wouldn’t care any more or any less if it was anyone else. Whether that makes you feel better or worse though, you can’t quite tell.

No, you wouldn’t think about it. Not now. It’s too much to deal with. 

You sigh, contemplating.

Is it even worth living if this is your life? Constant pain, constant fear, and when you finally escape the stress and danger of the games, you willingly embrace a perhaps even worse danger.

Living with Niragi is like playing an eight to ten hearts game on repeat.

Why would you fall for him - and why would he keep you around? You suppose he loves you too, in his own way and in the capacity he’s capable of. Perhaps he doesn’t even realize what he’s feeling. 

No. ‘Love’ is a foreign concept to him. He’s just obsessed with you and your feelings for him and that’s as far with him as you’ll ever get. It’s clear that he’s not used to receiving warm feelings, affection. Sometimes you’d even go as far as to think he’s not used to not being looked down upon. Perhaps this is his own form of therapy - acting like he does because he’s so used to being powerless. Perhaps he consciously forbids himself from loving you to eradicate any possibility of gaining yet another weakness.  

Some small part of you hopes you’re wrong. It believes that he’s just a damaged, broken soul, that he’s able to love - with enough time, patience and effort. The rest is too terrified of him to even think much about him, merely accepting reality and each new twist of it as it comes. Well, it’s pointless to think about it, him, everything anyway. 

To drown out the thoughts and memories, you let the water swallow you. The surface closes above your head and the world disappears. 

It’s peaceful down there. Warm. Safe. Quiet. You wish you could stay there forever. And maybe you could if only you can will yourself not to breathe…

Little did you know that there are heavy footsteps getting closer to your room or that the door has been opened and closed again.

You’re hiding beneath the water unaware of the screaming, a man calling your name. His voice is getting louder and louder, but it can’t reach you. It’s all a dream. A paranoid thought made up by your exhausted brain. So you don’t investigate the faint whisper of noise you hear. 

And so you will never know about how his eyes widened and breath hitched in his throat when he saw you there, lying submerged in the bathtub with no air escaping your lips.

You’ll never know because the emotions are too foreign and complicated for him to explain. Because telling you would be admitting weakness. Would be asking for help. And he can’t have that.

So all you’ll ever know is the feeling of your safe haven being taken away from you.

Water is splashing everywhere as you struggle against the rescue attempts and struggle to breathe in the suffocating hold the man has on you. Your body is limp and heavy but he manages to drag you out. 

Your eyes finally focus. 

Niragi’s dark eyes are boring holes into yours, his jaw clenched as hard as his fingers digging into your flesh. He’s carrying you somewhere, you realize at about the same time he throws you on the bed. In a flash he’s hovering over you, his hot breath fanning your face.

This couldn’t be happening. No, not again.

“What the fuck were you doing?” he spits. 

Your eyes are out of focus again, turning away from him. What’s happening? This has to be a nightmare. You won’t handle that again. He roughly grabs your jaw and makes you face him again. 

“I said, what the fuck were you doing?” he’s pissed - but why? You’re tired and you don’t understand a thing. It’s cold and your naked body is shivering. Again. Just like before. 

You’re confused and hurt and you long for comfort. Any comfort you can get. A warmth of another person’s body, a gentle touch or word, anything. A blanket would be enough.

Niragi keeps talking, loud and angry. Scary. You can’t focus on his words properly but you register the curses and his tone, cold and terrifying. Tears spill from your eyes as you sniff.

He’s here to hurt you again. He will shatter you. He’s like this but still… he’s there, right?

Your horrified mind is too far gone. Without any hope you’d surely go crazy. 

You need to find comfort in something - someone. Even if that someone is Niragi. The one who caused all this. Or the one you came to on your own? Regardless of everything that has happened since, you’ve approached him first.

Maybe this is all your fault.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on him.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to rely on him now.

After all, he came back and he’s paying attention to you. You, his half-broken toy. You wouldn’t get a better deal in Borderland.

So you pull yourself closer to him.

You hide your face in his chest as you silently sob. Your nails drag against whatever you get your hands on, balling in his shirt and scratching his back.

He freezes under your touch, until finally his hands find their place on your back. He lays on his side and you nuzzle even closer, your tears soaking his shirt. He goes quiet and lets his brain catch up to what is happening, a wide maniacal grin spreading on his lips.

This is your breaking point, he realized. Not the reality of your life here, not the atrocities taking place in Borderland, not the many sights of brutal death or hopelessness of not being able to escape. No. It’s him. 

He feels a wave of excitement and arousal flood through him. He’s never experienced a feeling like this before - the feeling of having so much power over another human being without doing much. He doesn’t even have a gun. He isn’t threatening to shoot you and yet you’re so terrified of him. And better than that, despite all that fear you still came to him for comfort. It’s a delicious feeling.

He’s hard, almost leaking, just thinking about how broken you are. He presses his groin against you where your leg is swung across his hip. He would take you again were it not for your current state. He’d definitely break you beyond repair then and you’d be no fun afterwards. 

As much as he’s blind towards all kinds of violence and crimes, that really would be no fun at all. 

You’d just lay there, silent and apathetic. A broken doll. Fuck, he could get off just to the thought alone.

Instead, he bites down on your neck, revels in the pained whimper that slips from your mouth. His kisses are full of tongue. It drags against your skin, laps at the wound on your shoulder and the tender flesh there. As if massaging the area, he pays it special attention. Not gentle, just intense. 

You’re whining and whimpering in between sniffles. His hands roam your back, grabbing at your waist, hips and ass, grinding you into his hard dick any time he gets the chance.

Most bizarre of all that? You found comfort in his attention. It’s not comforting at all. It isn’t even remotely tender or loving, yet feeling him right next to you makes you feel safe. Protected. 

And to be fair that was probably one thing you indeed were right now - protected. Guarded from everyone but him. 

He promised he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you and he keeps that promise probably a bit too well. So right now, you make that your reassurance. Make him your anchor. You’re surrounded by his scent, metallic like blood and the steel of his rifle. 

It’s unpleasant, so why are you breathing it in and thinking of home? Of safety? You’re safe, well not really but enough - is that actually a good thing, though? Even the pain grounds you in the moment, in the cruel world beyond your clouded mind.

Some of your rational thinking returns as you bring yourself from behind the mist. 

You don’t, in fact, like this.

It’s just so easy to get lost in the feeling. To further submit and give up even more control over your life. It’s not like you have a lot of it here to begin with.

But you don’t want that. 

You need to stop him. You have to make him stop otherwise he’s always going to treat you like this. He probably will anyway, but you’ll be damned if you go down without fighting. You deserve better. Whatever standard of better you could get with Niragi.

You push against his hips with your hand while you put the other on his cheek. You succeed in making his actions stop and your eyes meet. There’s a wild madness in his gaze. You sniff and kiss him quickly, grabbing a fistful of his hair. You can do this. 

“Stop it. For fuck’s sake, stop acting like a horny dog for a minute,” you hiss, “Or I swear I will leave and when you find me, I will never respond to you in any way again and will be just a ragdoll.” You know talking back to him is never a good idea but you couldn’t care less right now. You mean your words too - being just a lifeless mass of flesh instead of your usual self, that would piss him off. That’s the one thing he wouldn’t be able to accept. You know it and he knows it too.

“What makes you think I’d let you?” he frowns, growling. He pulls you impossibly close, hands on your ass and his crotch grinding against your again.

Asshole. But what did you expect?

You chide yourself for hoping.

And then, you go limp. You look at him with an empty gaze and one last bitter chuckle.

No matter how hard he goes at it, how much he raises his voice, you remain passive. Just like a doll. He shakes you and you let him, ignoring the pain. Everything hurts. But this is far from the worst he’s done to you. You can cope. And maybe if it pisses him off enough, something will change. Or he’ll kill you, but that might not be the worst thing either.

Niragi punches the pillow just millimeters from your face. Still no reaction. His eyes are burning holes into yours. He’s furious. And desperate. You almost want to laugh.

Surprisingly, he then sets his jaw, swallows. Albeit obvious he’s fighting back the urge to hit you for real, he nods. His hands move to your hips, nails painfully stabbing your skin. He stays still.

“Thank you,” you sigh and hide your face in the crook of his neck. If you were in a better mood, you’d smile at the progress you two made. 

Even if it’s impossible to tell from his behavior today, lately it’s getting more usual for him to listen to your requests, not without a lot of bitching, if they aren’t too wild and if he isn’t too opposed to them. But that’s only because he finally learned that if he compromised with you and gave in to your wishes, you’d then go out of your way to be good for him and please him.

How did your life turn into this?

Why do you think this is good enough? 

“We both know you wouldn’t be able to hide from me for long,” he smirks, always ready with some cocky remark. His own little defense mechanism.

“Yeah, but I might try if you pull something like this again,” you warn as you try to move your sore muscles without much success. You’re drained. Physically, mentally… you just want to sleep.

Niragi pulls away to scowl at you. You roll your eyes at his obliviousness. Is it really necessary to spell everything out for him? You groan and decide to lecture Niragi on why what he did was wrong, now that you’re able to think clearly again. You need to explain, to fight for yourself.

You’re not naive enough to believe it will change anything or that he maybe honestly didn’t realize. You just might be stupid enough to hope, though.  

“Look, I get that you were frustrated when you came in earlier, alright? But maybe next time just beat someone up or something? I literally don’t care. I’m not just some object for you to relieve your anger on! I know we go at it pretty hard like every night-”

“Yeah, so what’s the problem?” he interrupts, impatient and annoyed that you’re bothering him with something so trivial. You can’t believe you’ve ever told Ann to stop calling him a man-child.

“The problem is that when you came in today, I wasn’t in the mood. I didn’t want to do anything with you. But you barged in and forced yourself on me and we talked about how that is not okay already,” you explain, just as irritated but keeping your voice firm and steady. You want to scream, but that wouldn’t lead anywhere.

“But you’re mine!” he protests and honestly it’s hard not to abandon your morals. It takes a ridiculous amount of effort not to punch him.

“That doesn’t change anything. I am yours, yes, but still you need my consent before you fuck me,” you argue back. Bad idea?

In the next second, he flips you on your back, holding himself above you. You whimper in pain as it shoots through your body, tears spilling out of your eyes again. And hell, you miss his warmth.

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m not good enough? Bec-” Not able or willing to listen to his nonsense, you shut him up with a kiss. The only way you know he’d shut up in this situation. You’re generous enough to let him take charge, bite your lips as much as he wants and rule your tongue with his. At least it serves to distract you from the cruel pain in the rest of your body. He pulls away suddenly and puts his forehead against yours.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, confused, as if he only just realized something’s wrong. 

This is getting strangely similar to talking to a bratty child. Though, to be fair, you yourself haven’t realized you’re crying again. Angry as you are, you still long for comfort and you’re not allowed any other source of it than him. You don’t know where this obsession of controlling every aspect of your life comes from, but it’s annoying.

“Just come here,” you whine. It’s pathetic, but that usually works. You pull on his shirt so he’d lay on top of you. It’s too cold in the room to be naked. 

He allows himself to be pulled, crushing you a little as his body covers yours. His eyes never leave yours as he tries to find an answer in your teary eyes. Yet there’s an almost malicious smirk on his lips.

“That’s the problem, y’know,” you sniff a little, “I’m yours and you’re an amazing lover - you know that, I know that - shit I think half of Beach knows that with how loud you make me.” You roll your eyes as his smirk grows and gets cocky. You hate how well praise works on him, keeps him in check. Praising him was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“But you’re not usually like that - like today. You were pissed for real and rougher than you usually are. It hurt - it still does. It hurts like hell, I can barely move. And I was scared, I didn’t want you to touch me at all and yet…” you exhale shakily, closing your eyes. You focus on your breathing. It’s important you calm yourself down or you’d surely fall into that lethargic state again.

He takes that opportunity to look at you, really look at you. Maybe he did go too hard. He didn’t expect you’d be this close to your breaking point, on the thin border between being salvageable and becoming useless to him. 

What does he care anyway?

Your eyes are swollen, glassy and red from crying. There are bruises, hickeys and bite marks on your arms, waist, hips, your neck. He remembers the wound on your shoulder.

With uncharacteristic gentleness, he traces his fingers along your collarbone to your shoulder. You let him, even as you feel his dick getting harder in his pants. You even let him manhandle you a little so he can take a look at the full damage. 

The bite mark on your shoulder is also swollen and red but it isn’t bleeding anymore at least. Still, it’s obviously very painful, he can see that. Can derive pleasure from that. As much pride as he feels looking at his work, however, he also realizes that you aren’t happy about it. He scoffs. 

Then again if it’s only because you got scared and you didn’t enjoy it in this particular case, then he can let it slip without further punishment. Next time though, he’ll make you another pretty mark on the other shoulder. Symmetry and all that.

Why does he care? 

Niragi sighs and kisses your forehead. He doesn’t want to look for a new toy. That must be it. Pure convenience. It’d be inefficient to break you and search for a replacement. He doesn’t wanna do that. Not when he has someone like you, who’s willing to work with him. Who already holds some value for him. Sometimes. Perhaps.

“Tell me what you need?” he murmurs, his protective side kicking in. He wouldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t break you. Yet. He promised he’d protect you anyway.

And you always have the best ideas on how to return the favor whenever he takes good care of you. It has him licking his lips already.

In contrast, you were no fun if you were in pain and from the looks of it, he really messed up.

But now he has no idea how to make it better. He’s not excited about the idea of having to care for you, but you’d like it. You’d be grateful and return the favor. He repeats that like a mantra to calm down. He needs to do that first. Yet he finds it hard.

Why did you look so scared of him? Why does he care?

“Hold me for a while? It’s so cold,” you complain. He snorts but does as you asked. It’s easy enough. He even pulls the covers over you after admiring your well-marked body for a while. Everyone knows you belong to him, of course, but he loves seeing the proof of his ownership all over your body. You’re undeniably his, carrying his signature all over yourself. And you crawled to him so obediently, scarred by his love and yet you craved more. He can’t get that out of his head either, his cock twitching. He needs you.

“You know, it’s really cold. Maybe if you warmed my cock for me, I’d listen to you more carefully,” he coos between kisses peppered up your neck.

“Or maybe you’d just rape me again,” you say without much feeling. Vocalizing it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. And the mess in your head… You really need to sleep. 

He stops in his tracks and tilts your jaw up to make you look at him.

“But-”

“No buts, Niragi,” you sigh and ease your jaw from his grip to nuzzle into his shoulder again. You really don’t feel like looking at him right now. 

“I didn’t want it, I told you that much, and you didn’t listen. I am yours, true, but that doesn’t make it okay. And you better remember it. If it happens again, I will keep my word and leave - and if you find me, I will be just a ragdoll. I won’t speak to you, I won’t move even if you should kill me,” you warn him, feeling him tense around you, “Or do you really need to have your dick inside something for your ears to work?”

Biting remarks are good. They are normal. 

He scoffs but relaxes, only his arms tighten around you as he hugs you closer.

“I will try,” he groans, irritated.

“Good,” you praise, trying your best to keep the irony out of your voice. In case it was still there, you turn your head to nibble along his neck the way he likes. You have to do something if you want to lower the risk of him just ramming his dick into you.

“I promise if you leave me be tonight and let me heal a little, you won’t regret it,” you breathe into his ear, exasperated and tired. He hums in response, still annoyed but it seems he’s considering your offer.

And he is. Weighting your creativity and previous experiences with these deals, he has to give it to you - you’re worth the hassle.

So he sighs into your hair and lets his body melt around yours. Your lips twitch in a smile unseen.

For now, this is enough. It’s far from ideal, but really, what could you want from a Borderland romance. 

Especially one with Niragi. 

He doesn’t really want to hurt you - at least you want to believe that despite the evidence. It’s not personal. Violence is just in his nature. It’s an instinct. Maybe you could show him he doesn’t need to hurt you - even if it is literally just you. Everyone’s always told you to be more selfish. Maybe this is it.

You really don’t know what exactly made you drop your standards so low that you accepted someone like Niragi as a lover, but sometimes, you’re glad you did. 

Afterall, you could die any day here or take lives to survive so trying to change this abusive piece of shit into a decent human being isn’t the worst thing you could be doing with your life here.