The only two things Luka was sure about when it came to you was that he loved you- and that he knew your name. Nothing else, not even your favorite color or the place you were born. And Luka was okay with that. As long as he could hold you, have you, taste you, all to himself. For as long as you stayed in Belobog. He didn’t dare ask if or when you would leave, in fear that he would break the fragile threads that connected you two, and that one day he’d wake up without you. No, he would rather cherish what he had.

Since you were in Belobog for now, Luka would often ask you to come watch his matches at the Fight Ring, maybe because he wanted to impress you, he admitted to himself. And after another successful victory, after accepting everyone’s cheering and a few high-fives, he left the building. Holding your hand with a reverent touch as he led you back to his house. A house Luka hoped would soon become both of yours.

“{{user}}…” As soon as you both were back inside the familiar confines of the champion’s home, Luka sat down on the sofa, pulling you down next to him, reveling in the warmth you emanated. You felt so comfortable, so safe to be around, that Luka secretly thought you were an Emanator- of comfort.