#so attackers go out painfully and if they escape I can track them down like a komodo dragon while they slowly lose their minds | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

90stvshowgoth · 4 years ago

Text

— BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: dabi is on the run from the cops when you just happened to leave your window open.

tags: drunk sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon but not really,

wc: 6729

a/n: this is my first dabi fanfic so i’m worried i might’ve made him a bit too ooc but tbh i don’t care. soft dabi is what i want and soft dabi is what i will get. huge thanks by the way to @a-monsters-love who beta read this story and made it a lot less sucky!

my requests are open by the way!

What woke you wasn’t the explosions or the screams, but the sirens. The mechanical moans echoed through the streets of Musutafu, and that sound pulled you up out of bed, looking out your window in a bleary state of half-asleep fear.

‘What was going on?’ Goosebumps ran up your arms as you peered out your alleyway view window, overlooking the fire escape to the siren that had recently been installed in your neighborhood a few months back. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you tried to recall when the Pro Hero Association had brought it, and that same chill sank to your bones as you remembered just what they were for.

A villain had attacked the prefecture. A dangerous one.

You tried to calm your breathing, slowly walking backwards from the window to think rationally about the situation.

‘There’s no reason for somebody to attack a random apartment building, they’re off fighting heroes,’ The reasonable side of your brain said.

Despite that the siren was still wailing across town and it began to set you on edge. You certainly weren’t falling back asleep any time soon. If you couldn’t go back to bed you thought you’d might as well make some tea to calm your frigid nerves. You smiled when you saw your well-loved cardigan hanging next to the door and hugged it close, otherwise wearing nothing but your bra and leggings.

When you stepped into the main room you breathed in the warm scent of the candle that you’d accidentally left burning. Cursing yourself for your lack of fire safety, you shrugged and used the wick to light your path to the counter. After filling up the kettle under the sink you left it under the lit stove to boil, taking a moment to admire how the burner’s low flames were almost purely blue.

From here you could see the small television beside the couch and with a press of a button it came to life before you. The harsh glare made your eyes wince before they adjusted to the unfriendly light.

You were drawn to the red index near the corner that blinked the words ‘breaking news.’ This made your sleep-addled brain finally connect the dots between the sirens and the reporter. The screen cut to a newsman outside of what used to be a ten-story building when all that remained was a smoking husk. Hesitantly, you increased the volume to hear what happened.

“—before fleeing the scene. We have reports that say the hero fighting him was put into critical condition following the attack, and is currently being taken to the hospital. A video was taken by a nearby woman who sent it to the authorities. We believe this clip to be of the suspects,” the journalist paused, and a low-quality film began to play. Whoever was recording had badly shaking hands so It was difficult to make out. Your eyes widened at the sight of the building you walked by every day for work, the Shishido hero agency, razed by a torrent of blue wildfire.

Escaping from the crumbling building were four or so figures, too far away to see with any accuracy, but each had an unmistakeable silhouette. The League of Villains.

They were something of a modern socratic dialogue. Whenever someone brought up their name or the hero killer Stain’s it was always just to be a contrarian towards whoever was on the opposing side. Fanatical opinions would spark heated arguments online but you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Although, if you’d have to pick a side, you would choose the League’s. After Stain’s video had spread through Japan you dug deeper into the shady histories of some of the Commission’s most well-respected heroes. Whatever standard you held those pros to crumbled into dust under miles of ‘collateral damage,’ and omitted crimes that were swept under the rug by police. So when the faces of the league went up on the screen you couldn’t help but smile at their victory.

The whistle of the kettle pulled you from the television. You rushed to take it off the stove before it could get any louder, and routinely began to fix the tea just the way you like it. You hummed, smiling as the first sip of the warm brew spread down your body, fending off the cold.

You threw the remote onto the couch that sat across from the small kitchen. Moving back to your bedroom and getting cozy with the tea, you reveled in the way that the mug loosened the frozen joints of your fingers. But before you could relax and block out the sirens with some music, you noticed another chill rush through the small room. Groaning over-dramatically, you set the tea down to retrieve another blanket from your pile; but your eyes widened when you tracked down the source of the cold.

Your window was open.

That caught you off guard. You were absolutely sure you closed it before bed knowing how low the temperatures would drop, though with growing panic you noticed how you specifically don’t remember locking it. There’s only two ways it could’ve been open now. Either you simply misremembered earlier that night and forgot to close it...

Or someone else broke in.

The tea’s warmth was long forgotten as you reached shaking hands to close the window. But before you could slide the panel shut a calloused hand clawed itself around your mouth so you couldn’t scream.

Fear gripped your lungs as you struggled to breathe, thrashing desperately against the second arm your assailant had snaked over your waist to keep you still. Your leg banged painfully on the side of the windowsill as you struggled but it didn’t deter you from opening your mouth wide enough to bite down on the attacker’s hand.

“Fuck!” He cursed when your teeth drew blood around his thumb and practically threw you to the ground. As you were about to use your newfound freedom to scream for help, the man lunged towards you with one outstretched hand.

His flesh was suddenly engulfed in a hissing blue fire and you winced at the wave of heat that flared so close to your face. From here you could easily make out the assailant’s features from the illuminating glow of his flames.

He had deep scars circled under his eyes using what looked like piercings to hold the tattered skin together. His lips quirked after realizing he’d caught you for good, making his charred skin pull against the metal in his cheekbones. Panic hadn’t altered your memory, you knew exactly who was standing over you. Dabi of the League of Villains.

Before either of you could make another move someone banged on the front door. You turned to look towards the sound but the heat close to your reddening throat kept you from doing anything stupid.

“Ma’am this is the police, open the door.” You and Dabi stared at each other from the implications and you could already see a plan forming behind his eyes.

He leaned far too close, keeping his lit hand still hovering over your neck as he whispered his words into your ear, “Listen to me nice and close, doll,” you couldn’t bring yourself to breathe underneath the searing tension. “You’re gonna answer that door. You’re gonna smile and say that nobody’s home. And if you give away fuckin’ anything,” Dabi’s flames somehow stoked themselves, the heat so intense that your teardrops evaporated before they could leave your eyes, “I’ll set your hair on fire first. So you can feel your brain cooking.” He spoke with a dripping malice that made your blood run cold despite the flames creeping up his arm. You nodded, too terrified to form words as he pushed forward; telling you to get up.

The brief walk from your bedroom to the front door had never felt so long. Your legs felt like the static emanating from the television, all shaky and unstable. Once your hands curled around the handle you decided not to spare a glance back.

‘What do I do?’ You didn’t want to die, at least not by immolation of all things, so you’d have to play along. You cupped your feverish face in your hands and took an unsteady breath. ‘As long as I can fool these cops, I’ll be fine. I can do this,’ At least, you hoped.

Opening the door caused the hallway’s lights to flood through your darkened doorway. Once your eyes flinched with discomfort you saw the unmistakeable uniforms of two police officers, both middle-aged and looking much more disinterested than you would’ve thought.

“Is there a problem?” You could lie smoothly enough but your voice was still feeble from Dabi’s strain on your neck.

The one who had called out earlier answered your question, “A member of the League of Villains was seen climbing in through a window to this apartment building, but the witness didn’t remember exactly which floor or room. Is anyone else with you?”

You feigned confusion, going so far with the act as to tilt your head slightly to the side. “No, I’m sure I’m alone, sir.”

At that moment a painfully loud squeak echoed from your bedroom and your eyes widened at the audible gap in your story. There was a loose floorboard right beside your bookshelf that creaked under even the slightest weight. You’ve learned to avoid it over time but Dabi had no idea.

That bored expression on the cop’s face shifted and you scrambled to come up with a explanation. “I thought you said you lived alone?”

An idea popped straight from your brain to your mouth, “My cat! His name is—“ you thought of the old, lovable house-cat your family had kept while growing up, “Byron. He like to get into my plants.”

“...Alright then, Ma’am, just keep yourself safe.” It seemed to just barely convince them.

You almost couldn’t fight back the elation as you waved off the oblivious pair, heeding their words by locking the door behind them in a rush. Pressing your back against the wood, you tried to settle the adrenaline pounding through your chest. Unfortunately as soon as you started to calm down, Dabi strode from the bedroom with a curious look in his eyes.

“Not bad, lady. Didn’t think you’d give it your all like that,” he must’ve kicked himself for making that noise and thought you would’ve used it as a way to give him up, “especially for a villain like me.”

The tension in the air had noticeably lessened, and you started to think you had a good shot at surviving the night. “I mean, I didn’t want them to find you either.”

Dabi paced around the living room, turning on one of your floor lights in his path towards the couch, “And why’s that?” He asked, flopping unceremoniously onto the secondhand loveseat.

Sure, you were still half pissed at the guy for breaking into your apartment and threatening to kill you, but it was clear that everything he did wasn’t personal. He just needed to escape from the police, but since they were gone what would happen now?

“Because...” you wanted to find the right words to convince him, “because I hate heroes too.”

Under the dim glow of the lamp you caught a glimpse of a half-handsome smile from that answer. Now that there was none of the malice from before you could appreciate just what he looked like under the warm lighting. Especially his eyes, which turned out to be a truly stunning shade of blue.

He kicked his feet onto your coffee table and patted the seat next to him. You’d have to deal with whatever dirt or soot he’d tracked inside tomorrow morning, but for now you found yourself accepting his invitation.

“Lucky me, huh?” Dabi asked rhetorically, and you found yourself almost smiling back at him. The couch was still cold underneath you but you painfully realized that Dabi was emanating heat like a goddamn generator.

‘It must’ve been from his quirk.’ you thought bitterly, shivering despite yourself.

Dabi drew a pack of Newports from his coat pocket and slid a cigarette out with his teeth. Instead of using a lighter a thin blue flame ignited on his index finger. He held it to the tip and drew in a deep lungful of smoke.

“So, what’s your deal, anyways? You got a thing for villains or something?” He wondered out-loud, teasing another blush onto your face as you shook your head.

“No, I just— I mean not like that,” From the look on his grafted face you could tell he wasn’t convinced. “The Hero Commission is corrupt, I agree with the league on that at least. Stain’s video kinda affected me, you know?”

Another small grin graced his lips and a small part of you decided that you wanted to see that expression more often, “What’s your name, doll?”

The question put you at ease; When he repeated it back, rolling the syllables over his tongue, you couldn’t wait to hear him say it again. Wordlessly, he extended his hand towards you, offering the lit cigarette between his fingers. When you took it all you could focus on was how warm his hands felt against yours for those brief seconds.

Wisps of smoke danced in the air as you inhaled, coughing a bit after the dry tang started to sting the back of your mouth. He smirked at your reaction before taking the cheap cigar from your fingertips.

Dabi saw the remote you left laying on the couch and mindlessly turned on the TV across from you. The news station was once again playing, this time an interview with one of the heroes who fought at the scene. This hero in particular was an older man with a receding hairline and an honestly ridiculous outfit that looked somewhere between a scuba diver and a 70s golden-age comic book character.

Beside you, Dabi groaned at the sight of him, “This fuckin’ guy...”

“Were you the one that fought him?” He nodded without breaking his attention from the screen.

“His quirk was such a pain to deal with. He controlled all the oxygen in the room— made it hard to set his ass on fire.”

There were a surprising lack of injuries on Dabi as far as you could see, aside from a few scrapes alongside the bruised scars that crawled below his loose shirt. You couldn’t help but wonder how far down they went, but quickly turned your attention back to the screen to ignore those ideas. The hero he fought looked far worse for wear, skin marred with fresh burns that singed holes into the costume; His legs shaking similarly to how yours were just fifteen minutes ago. Dabi seemed to have that effect on people.

Before you could ask him how he’d won his fight he was off the couch and walking towards the kitchen. He casually searched through your apartment with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

You sighed, a bit annoyed at how he helped himself to your fridge, “Dabi, if you’d tell me what you’re looking for I could show you.”

“Nah, already found what I wanted.” He dug open one of the drawers and smirked as he pulled a chill bottle of wine from the fridge.

Dabi tracked down two nearby glasses and a corkscrew before returning to your side and started to twist the metal tip into the pliant seal. It pulled loose with a soft pop and he filled each of your cups with the cherry wine you had been saving for a special occasion.

As you raised the rim to your lips and breathed in the fermented smell you paused. Were you really about to drink wine with a villain? A wanted criminal who broke into your apartment? His hand had been around your throat as he whispered about how he would burn you alive less than half an hour ago. There had to be something wrong with you to even consider it. Beside you he nearly emptied half the glass in his first sip before going back to enjoying his cigarette and you found your resolve crumbling at his lazy half-smile. Making possibly one of the dumbest mistakes of your life, you followed his lead and took a long swig from the bittersweet drink, intent on letting the alcohol relax your nerves.

The effects were slow to come, it was only wine after all, but as the night carried on and the two of you kept drinking you started to notice the effects taking hold. At the very least, conversation between you flowed easily, trading questions about each other that never grew too inquisitive. He didn’t try to pry too deeply, he didn’t even ask for your last name, and you were sure to never bring up his scars. You talked for what must’ve been hours, and as the bottle emptied, the space between the two of you grew smaller.

Dabi could handle his alcohol, but you couldn’t, clearly. To be fair, he was tipsy, but the way you unashamedly leaned your head on his shoulder when you grew tired was anything but sober.

“So, doll, got a boyfriend or something?” He asked, testing the waters. You leaned up and sighed at the question.

“No, nothin’ like that... I haven’t had the time.” You tipped your glass back but the wine never reached your lips. You groaned at the sight of the empty cup and leaned up to grab the bottle from the table. Unfortunately, Dabi’s hand held onto yours before you could reach the vice; You felt him pull you back towards the couch by your wrist until you lost your balance, falling back against his shoulder. If he minded he didn’t show it as his arm rested around your hip.

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” The condescending tone in his voice was annoying but it wasn’t enough to make you move from his comfortable grasp.

You scoffed, messing with your hair to avoid looking at his face, “God, who are you, my dad?”

A shit-eating grin stretched across his face, “Oh, so you’re into that Daddy shit, huh?”

The comment took you so off-guard that you broke into a fit of giggles that did nothing to temper the blush returning to your face. Dabi loved how much of an effect he had on you; the simplest words turning you into a flustered mess.

“Nah, not my thing-“ ‘Unless you’re into it,’ You barely kept yourself from saying that second part out loud. From this angle Dabi had the perfect view of your tits pressing against his chest and he stared shamelessly. You barely noticed, too focused on how warm he was while holding you close to his side. It almost looked like something a boyfriend would do, but you knew better.

It was a strange feeling, to be so under Dabi’s influence. Every lingering touch, every heated stare... It was driving you crazy. And he knew it. He was toying with you and you couldn’t believe how much you loved it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a chill running down your spine, only realizing that you were so caught up in your time spent with Dabi that you forgot to close the very window he had snuck through. As the night carried on it somehow got colder and you cursed the thin cardigan you found yourself wearing that did nothing to shield away the biting air.

“You cold, doll?” Dabi was surprisingly perceptive, noticing the trail of goosebumps that ran down your arms. Although, perhaps it was the sensation of his hand trailing over your skin that caused it rather than the wind.

Nodding hesitantly, he wasted no time in wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You couldn’t have held back the relieved sigh that left your lips if you tried. Because when Dabi wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you to his chest, it felt like heaven to your frigid bones.

As you curled into the embrace he couldn’t ignore how you felt on top of him. The pressure of your ass sitting on his dick drove him crazy, and it took damn near everything in him to not push you down face first and take you then and there.

“Dabi, you feel amazing,” His eyes widened, your slurred words almost making him lightheaded, “so warm...” You trailed your hands up and threaded them through his coarse dark hair. The faintest of groans left his lips as you got comfortable and accidentally dragged yourself down the front of his jeans.

All at once he took hold of the skin of your thighs, stopping you from moving and damn near shaking with effort to keep still. “Doll... cause’ you’re drunk, I’ll ask you this one time—“

“—Please, Dabi,” You didn’t budge under his bruising grasp or struggle like before, instead holding eye-contact, resolve heavy in your voice, “I want this- want you so bad,” It was enough for him, and he didn’t hold back.

He was ravenous when he finally pressed his lips to yours, leaving you tongue-tied and moaning into his mouth. The alcohol only added fuel to your desire, easing the tension on your clit by grinding against him. He broke the kiss in a choked gasp, his hands cupping you around your ass and fondling you through the thin material. When he stood up from the couch gravity somehow felt heavier, but it must’ve been from the wine. His hands still held you by your thighs and while he backed the both of you towards the bedroom his lips never left yours, even when he went to rip your cardigan off your shoulders, leaving it behind along with his coat, you in only your bra and leggings.

The loud bang from Dabi kicking the door open startling a squeak out of you and he chuckled into the kiss, running a stapled hand through your bedhead and pulling hard enough to make you keen into his touch. Rather unceremoniously he threw you onto the bed, briefly disorientating before you could make out Dabi’s alluring figure ridding himself of his clothes. Once he pulled over his shirt you saw his maimed chest covered in taught muscles and scars. As he broke your gaze to turn his attention to his jeans, fumbling with the cheap zipper, you couldn’t help from crawling towards him slowly on your knees before whispering, “No—“ He looked up from his trance, wondering if you’d changed your mind before you quickly perished the thought by pulling him towards you by the loops on his jeans. He raised an eyebrow at your show but didn’t make a move to interrupt the adorable way you took care of him.

So you began, looking into his eyes as you kissed down his deformed chest. It seemed a miracle he was even standing before you, with haphazard staples barely holding him together. You couldn’t resist giving the seams of his wounds special attention, pressing light kisses to the metal as you made your way down.

You unhooked his jeans easily, eagerly reaching to feel him through his boxers. His nails dug into your scalp when you finally eased his shorts off, breaking your eyes away to look between his legs and—

You couldn’t’ve stopped the needy moan from your lips if you tried, too attracted and nervous about the shiny bridges of metal through his dick. “Fuck, Dabi...” he had the most cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face as he watched you salivate over him.

“What’s wrong, baby? Never had a guy with piercings before?” You didn’t even hear him, instead responding with a dazed shake of your head; far too tipsy on the sight of him towering over you, reddened head leaking against his stomach.

He pretended to come to a decision, “Guess I’ll have to take my time with you before fucking that cute pussy,” his words sent heat straight to your core, slick pooling in your ruined panties, “but then why am I the only one naked? You’re gonna make me embarrassed you know.” The amused look on his face put you at ease and you laughed a bit at the idea.

“You? You’re the most shameless person I’ve ever met.” The smile he brought out was enough to ease the nerves that came with being so vulnerable to a man like Dabi.

The foe-offended look on his face wasn’t any less ironic, “You wound me, doll,” when his attention fell back to your clothes he didn’t hesitate to snake his hand below your arched back and unclasp your bra. Before you could think of covering yourself he’d already raised your arms up and thrown the lace material into some corner of your room.

He was on you in an instant, biting and sucking on the plush skin of your tits with abandon, enjoying every small tremor it brought from your shaking lips. To him your body was a blank canvas just begging for him to bruise, and he would take his sweet time carving teeth marks into your chest.

But while he had his fun you had yours, running your hand along his collarbones and carefully worrying the stapled hem of skin. You weren’t sure how the stitches would hold up otherwise. But before you could worry about it too much you felt him pull away, a deep hickey left in his wake.

“You don’t have to be gentle with them,” he looked up at you with an unexpected sincerity.

With that there was nothing to hold you back from dragging your nails down his chest, the villain groaning as you felt his solid stomach beneath you. From a distance he looked like a patched rag-doll that was barely holding itself together but up close the wiry muscles that clung to his calloused body couldn’t be ignored. Dabi practically hissed when he felt your soft fingers wrap around his cock, only spurring you on further. The piercings weren’t as rigid as they appeared but they were scalding to the touch.

His breathing stuttered around you as you picked up your pace, the heat of his breath pulsing on your cheek as you took in every sinful expression on his face. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut at the pleasure. You stared unabashedly, taking note of how peaceful he looked above you. Like for the first time that night his body wasn’t wrought with chronic pain.

When you pulled your hand away his eyes shot open. “I didn’t tell you to fuckin’ stop.” He sounded pissed but before you could lose confidence you shifted your weight to the side, locking your arms together behind his to roll him over, leaving you on top.

“I wanna make you feel good, Dabi,” Thankfully he seemed to be curious as to what you had planned, letting you stay on top for now. You crawled down his body until you reached his painful hard-on. Wrapping your hand back around him you gave him the most doe eyed gaze you could manage before taking him into your mouth.

“God, that’s fuckin’ good,” He cradled your head and set his own pace, not too rough but far from gentle as you fought the urge to cough. The metal of his piercings were hot against your tongue, the heat unlike any other experience you’ve had before. Wrapping your tongue around him you intentionally hummed, the keening moan it brought from him more than worth the burn. Tears crowded near your eyelashes as he chased his own pleasure, breaking his gaze to crane his head back in ecstasy. His neck bobbed with the effort and the sight made you almost proud.

It was over far too soon and once he pulled away you almost missed the weight of him in your mouth. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you, hear me?” His words made you all too aware of how badly you needed him, but he continued to run his mouth as he pushed you up the sheets and took his place back on top of you, “Gonna fill you so good, babydoll,” He caged you beneath him and you whined at the feeling of his slick cock heavy against your thighs.

His hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me, which do you want?” His blue eyes looked black in the feint light, staring at you with such an amused intensity that you didn’t even register what he said.

“What?”

Dabi tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning closer and whispering, “My mouth? Or my fingers?”

You normally wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye after he said that but liquid courage still ran through your veins and you leaned forward until you could nestle into the crook of his neck.

“Your fingers, Dabi,” You groaned as you felt his grip around your jawline move until his left hand curled around your neck and his right tore off your leggings before slipping below the waistband of your underwear. As soon as he touched you his eyes widened, a feral glint in his eyes.

“Fuck— Doll, you’re so fucking wet,” He squeezed your neck experimentally and the rush of endorphins sent to your head felt divine. It wasn’t to be outdone when you felt him circle your clit with his thumb, rushing into such a fast pace from the get-go. The onslaught of pleasure made a scratchy cry slip from under the grip of his hand. Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you were almost thankful for the immovable grip around your neck. It served almost like an anchor to ground you underneath him.

He pulled a startled squeak from your throat when his two fingers pushed their way inside. It barely hurt, but the maddening feeling of his long fingers curling and stretching your walls was one you wouldn’t forget. Dabi shushed your eager cries with an endless stream of filth whispered into your ear, “Can’t wait to fuck my cum into you, dollface. You want that? You gonna be my good fucking slut?” He was downright mean as he took his time stringing you like a bow. “You wanna feel me drip out of you like a street whore?”

“Yes, Dabi, I’ll be good, I promise just please—” You were too far gone at that point, grabbing fist fulls of dark hair to yank him to your mouth, the kiss muffling his groan from you pulling on your hair. His index finger curled so slightly into you, the pace on your clit turning soft once he added his third finger. The sound he brought out of you was somewhere between a dying choke and euphoric moan, each sensation coaxing you into his touch. Feeling him move so easily within you was almost enough to bring you over, your whimpers increasing against his lips, only for all of it to be taken away.

Dabi left you grasping around nothing when he took his hands away, no doubt enjoying the desperate way you tried to rock yourself back onto him. Only when you did, you were met with something far bigger than his fingers.

“Come on...” When he called you by your name it brought you back to earth for a minute, “I want you to beg for me,” looking to see his heavy length pressed against you as he rubbed the glistening tip onto your clit. “You’re gonna beg for a villain to fuck you,” The promise of pleasure was so enticing that it was worth lying to the cops, worth risking your safety, and enough to toss your pride out the open window.

Grabbing him by his hair, you forced him to look at you. “Dabi, please, I need you... Need you in me ‘til you cum,” desperation and lust coated every sinful word you said, but Dabi wasn’t satisfied. “I wanna be good for you, Dabi, want you to fuck me, fill me up, ple-“ your words were cut off by the intense stretch of your walls trying to take him in. You’d never screamed someone’s name so loudly before in your life.

“Oh, fuck-! Shit... your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight,” As each inch sunk deeper you couldn’t speak or even breathe.

He wasn’t wasting any time, mercifully toying with your clit as he filled you. The air felt thin in your bedroom, like you were hundreds of feet from the ground, drawing short, shallow gasps beneath him.

“Da-bi!” His hips ground slowly against yours and you were suddenly thankful for his prepping, unable to come to grips with just how full you felt.

An overwhelmed laugh fell from his burnt lips as he slowly pulled himself from your dripping sex, “What’sa matter, babe? Can’t take it?”

The pout on your face only made him grin, the childish indignity adorable to him. But his teasing was starting to push you to your limits. He might’ve been a powerful villain and you a civilian, but it didn’t mean he had to treat you like glass. Hooking your legs around his waist you forced him forward. Dabi’s eyes shot open and both of you choked at the sharp friction. Any trace of playfulness died then and there, his knuckles turning white from the grip on your hips.

He kept your legs tight around him as he surged forward, your mouth caught open in a daze. You weren’t sure what his piercings would’ve felt like inside of you but god, was it good. The metal spokes impressed into your body with fervor, constantly dragging against your sensitive walls.

Tomorrow you might say that the wine was what drove you so crazy for him, but you knew you’d be lying to yourself. He was by far the most intoxicating libation you’d ever tried. The sound of skin against skin was almost deafening, only broken by the dulcet groans from the man above you and the siren that still echoed outside your widow like white noise. In the back of your mind you wondered if they were still searching for him.

Dabi leaned his head into the crook of your neck, revisiting the marks he’d already made. His teeth bit down your chest all the while abusing your aching clit. It was all too much. You couldn’t help clawing at his broad shoulders, leaving inflamed tracks in your wake. When your nails made contact with the scorched seam on his back Dabi moaned, the loud whine in his voice got you to realize something crucial. The motherfucker got off on pain.

His touch turned ravenous after that, pulling you tight against him until there wasn’t any space between your bodies. The rough texture of his skin-graphs and the blistering heat of their staples pushing against your breasts just made his brutal pace feel more intense.

Your voice was higher pitched than you’d ever thought you could manage, squeaking out small moans with every quick pulse of his hips. Your ankles were sore and locked together— he couldn’t have pulled out if he tried. The legs that were still wrapped around him twitched involuntarily as you felt the string inside your core about to snap.

“Fa.. fuck, Da—bi I’m—“ you stuttered against him, crying into his shoulder when you felt his pelvis grinding so perfectly onto your clit while he railed you, screaming his name one more time as he pulled you overboard, being sure to scratch at his back as you thrashed futilely against him.

All at once his teeth were buried into your throat, digging in so hard that you mistook his spit for blood; his bite only sharpening the orgasm that sent waves of heat coursing through you. Against your dented skin he groaned and cursed, his voice coarse but dripping with pleasure as he cursed expletives onto your shining skin. The wetness of your climax dripped down your legs, making him somehow push faster against you, but despite the blinding orgasm he’d thrown you into he couldn’t stop until he’d finished and the overstimulation burned white hot through your entire body. Just as the drive of his cock bordered on painful, Dabi shoved you down onto him, stilling above you and choking on a groan.

Twitching inside your cashmere walls you felt the warm rush of his cum paint your insides as his hips jerked into yours. His heart beat wildly against his chest— you could feel it over yours, his eyes still glazed with pleasure. Dabi was sure to pull out slowly, through the dim glow of your room he could see his cum seep out of your glistening pussy, and he couldn’t help but push his fingers inside you one last time. He might’ve liked pain, but he was an asshole who enjoyed the uncomfortable keen it brought from your trembling lips.

Thin moonlight shone through your window, illuminating the maze of blemishes that razed against his alabaster skin. It might’ve been because of the bleary tears that still half-clung to your eyelashes, but above you, with a winded smile on his torn-up face, he looked half a corpse and half a god.

“Still with me, baby?” He noticed your staring, teasing you by waving his hand in front of your face.

You felt almost high, all drowsy symptoms included, only responding to his question with a feint grin. The wine and the rough sex both made you exhausted in more ways than one, but before you could complain Dabi had shifted his weight off the bed.

“Nooo...” Admittedly you felt a little childish but you couldn’t help but pout as he grabbed his briefs and went to leave your bedroom.

Through the open doorway he’d said, “Just getting a towel, stay put.”

His absence gave you a second to think, staring up at the ceiling with a thousand opposing thoughts bidding for your attention. You just slept with a villain— a murderer. You might side with what he stands for but Dabi was still dangerous. He could’ve killed you tonight, after all. And yet, the only thing you could wonder was what was taking him so long.

Soon he returned wearing his boxers, carrying a heavy towel that he ran under the sink with warm water and took to cleaning the dribbling mess between your thighs. You cooed at his touch, the afterglow of your orgasm cleaned away until Dabi read the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4am.

“You know I can’t stay, right?” He asked bluntly, and you nodded, trying not to let the disappointment show too badly on your face.

“Villain stuff, huh?” You shrugged, curling up into your pillow. Dabi had to continue hunting down the rest of his shed clothes while he mumbled some kind of agreement.

He flashed you a grin while he zipped up his tattered jeans, “Doesn’t mean I won’t break in some other time, doll.” Relief spread through your fingertips once he said that, the weight disappearing from your shoulders.

Your content smile followed him as he threw that thick coat around his shoulders, walking up to your bedside and leaning low. You grinned, leaning forward and trying to catch him for one more kiss, only to be interrupted by the sound of something below you.

Looking down, you saw Dabi slapping a handful of crumpled bills on your end-table, that smug grin from earlier evident on his face. Without bidding you some kind of goodbye kiss he made his way to the open window, sparing you a glance before saying, “Buy some plan B, alright?”

You hadn’t even thought of it, grinning and waving him off as he swung himself onto the fire escape. The sounds of metal clanging against his boots faded away into the distant echoes of the city, and you brought your hand to your throat. Softly you traced the deep blemish his teeth had left behind, your smile turning giddy as you thought about his promise of another visit, but unfortunately the wine was still simmering through you and without Dabi to keep you awake your eyelids started to feel heavy.

Under your plush covers, you continued to cup your hand over the mark he left as you faded off into sleep, the siren that still echoed through the streets acting almost like a lullaby.

#dabi x reader #dabi x reader smut #smut #my hero academia #mha #dabi #touya todoroki #ao3 repost #touya x reader #mha headcanons #lov x reader

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Text

Infuriated

Prelude - ok.

Y’all are so horny for Levi Sir and I get it he’s hot lol. I am trying to get to everyone’s asks I promise!!! Also it’s up to you why Levi is mad lol

Prompts -

Pairing - Levi Ackerman X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, choking, mentions of snuff, emotionally compromised Levi, overstim.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/2f2hbFjim051DVx0o8o4rU?si=5waL376sSRSqjN2j8G0Y8w

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He comes home in a bad mood.

He shuts the door quietly, and it’s clear he’s beyond pissed. Past the point of yelling, of slamming the door and causing you to flinch with the indicator of his foul mood. It’s not you he’s mad at, but it might as well be. He finds himself wanting to break something, but not dishes or glass, just you.

Wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze till your breath rattles in your chest.

Levi finds you in the living room, standing by the hallway with wide eyes, shrinking against the wall. You thought you could avoid getting his anger taken out on you if he didn’t catch you while you were lounging on the bed. Hoping the man wouldn’t strip you bare and crush your soul like he had so many times before.

He’s so enraged that he can’t even think of the event that provoked him to such a state in the first place.

“Come here.” He stops in his tracks when he sees you, hands flicking to his tie so he can unknot it, loosen it from his neck. It’s not often he gets this angry, warm and burning, filled with emotions that he doesn’t know how to process, doesn’t even really want to.

“Come here.” Levi repeats himself, eyes burning when you still don’t move, as you begin to shake. You’re afraid of him again, good.

You had gotten past that, at least to the point where you could hide your fear of the man. Tamp it down beneath submission and pleasure, because doing what he says meant getting fair treatment.

But you aren’t doing what he says. You’re cowering against the wall, and Levi’s furious. You’re meant to follow his every order, know what he wants you to do before he even has to say, and yet you’re ignoring him as if you had the luxury of making that decision.

His shoes click across the tile as he strides towards you, already unbuckling his pants with sharp movements. When he reaches you, your frightened eyes pleading, the rise and fall of your chest quickening. Levi bets if he checked, your pulse would be fluttering, fast, like a scared little bird.

Your head snaps to the side when his hand connects with it, the sharp sound echoing throughout his home.

“Take off your pants.” Clothes are a luxury he’s been allowing, but this blatant disobedience when he’s already fuming will result in punishment.

Trembling hands fly to your pants, and Levi almost wants to laugh at the expression in your face as you turn it back, cheek reddening immediately. You should’ve came when he called you.

He doesn’t bother to take his slacks off all the way, barely pushing them down to his thighs before taking his cock in hand. He’s not even hard, but he needs to fuck something, focus on a different emotion than the fury settled deep in his bones. The satisfaction of how easily you break under his hands, the pleasure of filling you, stretching you past your limit, the way you draw him in like that’s where he belongs, even though it’s obvious you want to be anywhere but with him.

The hand on his cock is too dry, too rough, but that doesn’t matter. Levi’s able to pump himself to hardness as you fumble with your pants, almost falling as you slip them off.

With a quick movement, he’s slamming you hard against the wall, breath punching out of you, head hitting the wall and dazing you.

Levi spits in his hand, takes it between your legs and rubs his saliva where it’s needed. There’s no way you’re wet, no way you’re ready to take him. But if there’s a little blood, there’ll be a little blood. Levi can clean it off your thighs later.

It hurts when he starts pushing inside, the head of his cock breaching your hole far too fast. The crushing realization that he isn’t going to actually prep you is evident across your face, obvious by the panicked little whine that falls from your lips.

“Shut up.” He can’t stop himself from snapping at you, irritated at the noise.

He’s focused on filling you, the too-tight squeeze around his length and the overwhelming heat of your body where he’s pressed against you. At least you know better than to try and fight him, hands only clutching his shoulders, not trying to push him away, just trying to hold on.

What he would do if you struggled now, Levi doesn’t know. It’s possible he might break something important, push too hard, forget his own strength as he throttles the life out of you.

That reminds him.

The hand not guiding his cock into you rises to your throat, grasps the smooth column tightly, tight enough to feel the ridges of your esophagus, spongey and delicate. If he squeezes a bit harder, Levi wonders if it would collapse, crumbling beneath his fingers like tissue paper.

But your loss would make him inconsolable, so he reigns in his wrathful curiosity, his impulsive side that only sees the sun when he’s furious.

He's fully seated now, pressing deep into your sensitive walls. You’re shaking, trying to hold in your tears, your pitiful noises, your desire to beg him for mercy. There’s no slick feel, other than the slight ease from his saliva, so Levi knows you haven’t torn.

That eases his mind a bit as he slowly retreats from your hole, intent on making this quicker than it should be. He needs to fuck, hard and fast and maybe just a bit painful. There’s no explainable reason as to why, and Levi isn’t interested in trying to analyze himself at the moment.

So he draws out, pushes back in immediately, doesn’t mind your choked, hiccuped gasp. You’ll adjust soon enough; even as he pushes back in, you’ve started to get wet, and there’s no stink of iron in the air, so it’s your body trying to make this easier for you.

Levi figures it’s good that at least one of you was actually concerned about that.

As the slide becomes easier and easier, his pace picks up accordingly, until he’s swinging his hips in a punishing rhythm. He can’t stop himself from giving a rough press onto your throat, relishing the way your body jerks, already breathless and panicked, now denied air and already missing it.

He’s getting close, which is surprising. Levi thought it might be difficult to reach release, reasoned that he was too focused on the rage filling his veins and weighing him down to lose himself in your body.

But he should’ve know, you always have an effect on him.

Your cunt starts clenching around him, and Levi’s head shoots up from where he’d been watching the steady hammering of his cock into you, glares at your face now.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare.” His tone is clipped, and he’s mad all over again. He doesn’t even know why.

It’s not fair that you’re enjoying this while he’s still simmering, struggling to calm himself. It’s not like he doesn’t want you to find pleasure, but the least you could fucking do is have some decency for once and not cum before he does.

You clench your teeth, grimacing as you try to listen, do your best to obey. He’s trained you well.

But not well enough.

With a pitiful cry, you squeeze tight enough to make Levi groan as he refuses to stop moving his hips. Velvety walls spasm around his length with a vengeance, your nails digging into his shoulders as you lose yourself to the sensation.

Levi’s infuriated.

“You’re not allowed to cum.” He hisses, and your eyes are filled with sorrow, with regret and remorse, with emotions Levi has never bothered to learn the names of.

He slows down, slams into you hard enough that his tip kisses your cervix, makes you lurch in pain that lances through the afterthroes of your orgasm.

Your throat is abandoned for now, his hand joining his other in painfully clutching your hips, fingers dimpling up your flesh, sinking into the pillowy skin so he can pull you down onto his cock the same moment he thrusts up.

It’s hurting now, your face contorting on each deep thrust. Levi doesn’t care, you were selfish enough to take your pleasure before him, when he so obviously was trying to soothe himself.

He’s starting to get a cramp from how hard and slow he’s driving up into you, but he’s crawling closer and closer, so he ignores the twinge for now.

And then he’s there, bursting from the inside out, uncaring of trying to avoid filling your womb with his seed.

It feels good, good enough to talk him down from the edge of hurting you, of destroying, of raging and bruising and damaging.

Levi’s left panting as he finishes, as his abs clench and unclench while he shoots his sticky finish into your tight hole. You’re still grabbing at his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut at the foreign sensation; Levi usually dons a condom, or at least pulls out. Rarely does he lose himself to do what he just did.

He’s calmer now, feels less like a pacing tiger that's been provoked and prodded until it attacks.

But he finds himself irritated at you, at your audacity.

The man knows he’s being irrational, and that he’s emotional right now, prone to lashing out and striking at anything that dares to defy him. You hadn’t done anything particularly wrong except exist in the same space as a thoroughly pissed-off Levi, and he recognizes that.

But he still wants to see you punished.

So you find yourself on the bed, stripped of your clothes. The only thing you’re wearing is a leather collar, attached to cuffs on your wrists by a thick metal ring. The contraption keeps your hands up by your face, unable to do anything but clench into little fists. It’s almost cute.

Theres a spreader bar cuffed to your ankles, and a vibrator in Levi’s hand. He had cleaned himself as soon as he pulled free of your warmth, not bothering to stop the cum that escaped from the unconscious clench of your hole.

Levi had taken a moment to change out of his work clothes, calm himself further and evaluate everything with a clearer mind. Now dressed in nothing but loose sweats, he felt more at ease, cooler both physically and mentally.

The vibe was flicked on, pressed to your mound at the same time Levi wiggled a finger inside of you, feeling his cum still warmed by your body. It was a weird sensation, but you were wet, and he was focused on the task at hand.

Making eye contact with you, Levi leveled you with a stern look.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

Four minutes later, when you crested the edge despite an obvious struggle against it, Levi clenched his jaw, removing the vibe and his finger from rubbing at your walls.

When your eyes opened, Levi met them with a glare.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

The vibe was flicked back on, a setting higher this time. Levi shoved two fingers inside of you, and you whimpered in distress. You’d beg if you knew it would sway him, but Levi had forced you enough times for you to know that he followed his own desires.

You were just supposed to lay there and take it.

#yandere #yandere levi #Yandere Levi Ackerman #levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman #ackerman #dark #tw noncon #tw dubcxon #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon

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animereaderinsertwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

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muscatmusic18 · 4 years ago

Text

there’s more to it (than what you think) (1/1)

Fandom: Fate: The Winx Saga

Pairing: Farah and Bloom

Bloom is frustrated about not making any progress in trying to find her parents. Farah reminds her that family is not only blood.

Read it here on AO3 or below.

Motivation has arrived! Here’s to it staying.

Edit: just now realized the AO3 link I added didn’t take, thanks tumblr. Now there’s a link to it above

Farah had just finished tidying up her office at the end of a long week when a soft knock came at her door. She frowned, looking at the clocks on her desk — only Saul or Ben would come around this late, and neither of them would knock.

She smoothed her skirt, turning towards the door again, speaking softly. “Come.”

The door slowly opened, and Bloom poked her head in, slowly inching into the office. “I know it’s late, Miss Dowling, but I saw your light on and, well, I have some questions. If, I mean, now’s a good time…”

Farah could see the nerves and trepidation in Bloom’s posture, though there was just a bit of hope lighting up her eyes, and Farah didn’t need to read her mind to guess what this might be about. Giving her a small smile, Farah motioned towards her sitting area. “Come, I’ll put some tea on. I have chamomile stashed away somewhere.”

Farah searched through her cabinet while Bloom sat, listening to the zipper on her boot rattle as she bounced her leg up and down. Finding the tea, she filled two infusers and turned on her kettle, allowing Bloom time to gather her thoughts while the water boiled instead of using magic.

She’d just flicked the kettle off when Bloom spoke. “Have you ever heard of Azure Valley?” she blurted out, her leg still bouncing, and Farah glanced up at her.

“I have,” she responded, turning her attention back to the tea. “It’s about three hours north of here. Beautiful place. Or it was.”

She heard Bloom sit up on the couch, and could just imagine the painfully young hope brimming in her eyes. “So you know it? Have you been there?”

“Once, yes.” Farah answered, busying herself with the tea even though she’d finished with it. “When I was with Rosalind on her crusade.”

“Oh,” Bloom said, sounding small, for her and Rosalind being there could only mean one thing. “Well, um, I was looking through some old records, and—” she pulled out her phone, flipping through her photos while Farah brought over the tea tray, sitting across from Bloom. “I know there was a small town there, and I think there were some rumors going around there about Blood Witches being in the area.”

She held out her phone and Farah took it, seeing a picture of a small newspaper article titled 'Blood Witches: Myth or Reality, and Could They Really Be Here?'.

Farah handed her phone back, and Bloom continued. “There’s not much in the article, but I figured that if there were even rumors of them being there, and given everything we know about Aster Dell, then maybe that’s… where my parents could be.”

A pang went through Farah’s heart at Bloom’s words, and the longing in them when she spoke. Picking up her cup of tea, she took a sip, partly to warm herself from the chill she got whenever she thought of Aster Dell, and partly to prepare her for what she would say next.

“We all had gone to Azure Valley two days after the small settlement there had been attacked by the Burned Ones.” Farah set down her cup and looked at Bloom, hating to see the hope starting to crumble. “There hadn’t been much left. That had been a year before the events of Aster Dell, so I don’t believe you or your parents had ever been there.”

Bloom looked down at her phone for a minute, then back up at Farah. “Maybe they escaped. Got out before the Burned Ones attacked, and then had me a year later, before I was taken.”

The girl was grasping at straws, but Farah merely dipped her head in acquiescence, not wanting to break Bloom’s heart further. “It could be possible. We didn’t go looking for survivors when we were there, we were only concerned with tracking the Burned Ones, and the damage to the village was… well, we doubted there was anyone left alive.”

Bloom’s brow creased, and then she continued. “Well, is there anyone living there now? It’s been sixteen years, maybe someone when back— maybe they went back, and—”

“Bloom,” Farah interrupted. “No one has lived there since the attack. I’m afraid—”

“How do you know?” Bloom asked, raising her voice a bit, though Farah could hear the slight tremble in it. “You don’t know where everyone in Solaria is at all times, and you said it yourself, Azure Valley is hours away, there could be someone living there and you wouldn’t know.” Bloom stood, pacing a few steps. “I want to go there and see for myself, I won’t just—”

“Alright,” Farah agreed, and Bloom stopped suddenly, turning to look at her in surprise. “Tomorrow, we can begin planning a trip there. But it’s late, and there isn’t anything we can do right now.”

Bloom sighed, and sat down again, staring at her shoes. “I know. And I know this is probably some pointless journey, anyways, but I just…” she picked at the edge of the couch cushion, and Farah hated to see how small, how muted the bright young woman looked. “I just want to know where my parents are. Or what happened to them.”

Farah bit the inside of her lip and then stood, rounding the coffee table to sit next to Bloom. She picked up Bloom’s cup and handed it to her, letting her take a small sip before she started. “I promised you that I would help you find your parents, and I stand by my word. If Azure Valley is where you would like to go to look for any sign of them, then that’s where I’ll take you.”

Bloom gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Miss Dowling. I just—” she huffed then, and looked back down at her tea. “I feel like I should be getting somewhere by now. I’ve spent weeks looking, and I’m nowhere closer to finding out anything about them. I’m just so frustrated with it now.”

Bloom sighed again, shoulders slumping forward, and Farah’s chest ached for the girl, wishing more than anything that she could give Bloom the answers she looked for.

Though while she couldn’t give her those, she could at least try to give her some comfort.

“I understand your frustration, Bloom, and I understand your drive to find your parents. But finding people after sixteen years is a difficult task — this could take much longer than a few weeks.”

Bloom nodded, looking crestfallen, and Farah couldn’t help but to put a hand on Bloom’s shoulder. “But in this search, don’t forget that it is not only blood that makes up a family.”

Bloom looked at her, so Farah continued. “Your parents, your human ones, that is, are just as much your parents as your fairy ones, if not more so. Your friends are your family too, and, as I’m sure you know, they do not care about your origins, or of whose blood you are. A family becomes who you choose it to be, not the people who are born with the title. A family is those who care about who you are — your human parents, your friends…”

Farah trailed off, unsure if she should continue, even if her soft spot for Bloom was known. But she’d been trying to connect more with those she cared about, to step out of the figurehead role and into someone who could be approached when the occasion arose. So, taking a quick breath, she spoke.

“Your teachers, or any mentor who cares for you and your growth, can be a family of sorts as well.”

Bloom’s eyes widened for a moment, surprised, but then she smiled, and quickly set her tea aside before leaning into Farah to wrap her arms around her, fingers curled against her back and her cheek resting on her shoulder.

Farah smiled to herself, closing her eyes as she returned the hug, privately thrilled that she could be to Bloom everything that Rosalind was not.

“Thank you for being my family,” Bloom said against her shoulder, sounding young and almost fragile, and Farah couldn’t help but to squeeze the girl a little tighter.

“I’m grateful to be a part of it.”

Bloom clung for a little while more before she sat up again, pushing her hair behind her ears.

“I’m sorry I was rude earlier. You didn’t deserve that.”

Farah smiled in acceptance, and covered Bloom’s hand with hers briefly. “I’ll take you to Azure Valley soon. I know seeing for yourself may bring… closure. Or at least the feeling of being one step closer.”

Bloom nodded, looking down at her hands, and then back up at Farah. “I would still like to go, even if that seems… stupid. But… we don’t have to go right away.” Bloom let out a little sheepish chuckle and shrugged. “I’ve been pretty busy with this searching thing. I guess I should spend some time with my real family too.”

Farah smiled again, pride swelling in her chest at Bloom’s realizations. “Next weekend, we can plan a trip. For now, be with your friends. I’m sure you all can find something fun to do this weekend — that doesn’t involve getting into mischief,” Farah stressed, giving Bloom her best Headmistress look, who had the decency to at least try to hide her grin behind an abashed look.

Looking up at her again, Bloom gave her a small, lopsided smile, looking earnest. “Thank you, Miss Dowling. For still taking care of me.”

Farah smiled and touched Bloom’s shoulder, then stood and walked over to where she’d left her tea. “Go and find your friends, I’m sure they’re anxious to spend time with you. Isn’t there a party planned for tonight?”

Bloom tried to look neutral, widening her eyes in faux innocence. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Headmistress.”

Farah pursed her lips against a smile, then nodded towards the door. “Go. Relax. The search will still be here in the morning.”

Bloom left with a wave, leaving Farah with a warm, maternal feeling in her chest, and she sat behind her desk again sipping her tea, thinking just how proud she was –

Of her family.

#mama farah #farah dowling #bloom peters #winx bloom #fate the winx saga #ftws #i wasn't sure how this one was gonna turn out but i like it #also just gonna say this #this is platonic farah and bloom #mama duck farah and nothing else

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hualianff · 4 years ago

Text

Untethered III 《II》

Hold On – Park Yun Seo

White noise rings through Xie Lian’s ears, replacing the brutal assaults of battle until they fade away into the background. Beads of rain make contact with Xie Lian’s face, soaking his hairline and his clothes. But nothing else matters in this moment besides the ring Crimson Rain holds hostage, away from Xie Lian’s heart.

“It’s common courtesy to answer when someone asks a question, little Prince,” the pirate captain sings, pulling tighter on the ring until the chain feels like it’s going to snap.

“No!” Xie Lian gasps worriedly. His hands fly to grasp the ring, effectively unhooking it from Crimson Rain’s sword, but cutting his right hand in the process. Blood immediately oozes from the small wound, cleansed by the rain and sliding down to splash onto the deck.

Xie Lian grimaces while inspecting his hand. His other palm closes around the ring protectively, pressing the cool surface to his lips. The prince unconsciously closes his eyes, memories flooding his mind, letting through five year’s worth of forbidden euphoria.

He envisions the grungy tavern on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Xianle, where Shi Qingxuan had convinced him to sneak out to explore outside the palace walls. He can taste the muskiness in the air, hear the drunken pandemonium. Shi Qingxuan had eventually gone off to gamble–particularly well-versed in wagering despite being of nobility status–leaving Xie Lian sitting at the bar alone, unsure of what to order.

Xie Lian remembers a mysterious figure taking the seat to his left, draped in a red overcoat with an eyepatch covering his right eye. The stranger did not hesitate to call the bartender over, ordering two beverages with a slight lilt in his baritone voice. Xie Lian awkwardly fixed his gaze onto his glass of iced tap water, hoping his common robes, untied hair, and makeup-less face would go unrecognized.

That, and the fact that he had no experience ordering or drinking alcohol, even at twenty-years-old.

The bartender brought over the eye-patched man’s drinks, setting them down with a thunk! Xie Lian was content to watch for the stranger’s drinking partner from his peripheral vision, perhaps even pick up on how to drink in the proper manner. He would be damned if he didn’t learn one useful thing during this night of freedom.

However, Xie Lian was not prepared for the man to grab one glass and slide it in his direction. Xie Lian froze in his seat, sitting with his back ram-rod straight, hands neatly placed in his lap. Should he kindly refuse the offer? Unsupervised drinking was certainly risky. Or should he take a cautious sip? He would think that was the polite thing to do.

But before Xie Lian could react, the man casually angled his body towards him, leaning his elbow on the bar and propping his face with his palm.

His next words made Xie Lian’s heart come to a complete halt.

“Good evening, Your Highness.”

Xie Lian’s memories abruptly shift, and he is transported to the day when he first saw Ghost Ship. It appeared out of nowhere, easily twice the size of the traveling ship Xie Lian had taken to a neighboring kingdom. When the royal guards jumped to attack, Xie Lian simply held a hand up, stopping them in their tracks.

The prince walked to the side of his ship, assessing the Ghost Ship with keen eyes. Ghost Ship was traveling at a faster speed, quickly passing the royal ship by with no intention of initiating battle. When the better half of its length sailed beyond Xie Lian’s sight, the man steering the wheel came into view. As if in slow motion, Xie Lian locked eyes with the man, who donned familiar red and an eyepatch, and also wore a signature captain’s hat.

A captain. A pirate captain, Xie Lian remembers thinking, captivated by those broad shoulders, tattooed skin, and eccentric clothes. The same pirate captain circles in on him like a hungry shark, scimitar scraping along his arms and back, tearing the drenched fabric of his robes.

“Who knew the Prince of Xianle cares so much for a plain piece of metal?” Crimson Rain continues spitting his words like poison.

Xie Lian curls in on himself, trembling.

When pirates began uncharacteristically wreaking havoc on the docks of Xianle’s ports, Xie Lian often rushed to the scene to fend them off himself. Specifically, a pirate who could give Xie Lian a run for his money when it came to sword fighting, but always escaping with an evil smirk painted across his lips.

When Xie Lian had nearly drowned, those same lips had pressed against his own to breathe air into his lungs.

That had been his first kiss.

A few months later, Xie Lian had snuck out of the palace once again to the very same dock at the end of the port, where a certain pirate awaited him.

The images flitting through his mind now blur together, becoming unrecognizable except for the sensations imprinted on his body.

A warm body claiming him in a king-sized bed, among silken sheets and the pale glow of the moonlight streaming through the window. It was almost too dark to make out the man on top.

Almost.

One lust-filled eye bore down at Xie Lian.

“You like that, Your Highness?” the baritone voice growled into his ear.

Xie Lian hears his answering moan play inside his head and inhales sharply.

Between the secret meetings came secret letters specially addressed to the prince. They appeared with the changing winds, anonymously delivered under the pretense of confidential mail sent from other royalty. But no one could imitate that atrocious handwriting, nor invoke the same joy from Xie Lian when seeing his favorite red, butterfly seal.

Isabella’s Lullaby – Takahiro Obata

“It’s from someone special,” Xie Lian grits out, hanging his head low. The ring–presented to him with the most tender gaze and gentle hands–symbolizes hope. A promise of unconditional love.

“Trust me,” a low whisper ghosted against Xie Lian’s temple. “I’ll come back for you.”

And Xie Lian believed him.

That was one year ago. The spontaneous visits stopped, and so did the carefully crafted letters. With no one to confide in, Xie Lian spiraled down underneath everyone’s expectations and his own realized failure. He had been foolish. Blind. Naive.

Within that one-year period, Xie Lian lost faith.

Not in his love. Never in his love.

But in destiny. In free will. In god.

The one thing, one person, he needed most in this lifetime, was no longer within his reach.

Until now.

“Where will you run now, dear Prince?” Crimson Rain’s voice brings Xie Lian back to the present. His eye holds none of the familiar warmth it once did when he slipped the very same silver ring onto Xie Lian’s finger.

The rumbling and squeaking of footsteps make their way towards the pair, Xie Lian’s royal guards abandoning the protection of the ship to come to their prince’s aid instead. But even as Xie Lian gazes up at Crimson Rain’s, brandishing that strong jaw and classy smirk, the prominent eye patch, and the shimmering eye that radiates insanity, Xie Lian feels a certain sense of peace wash over him.

It’s finally time.

Xie Lian gives the pirate captain a hostile smirk of his own, taking out the white ribbon holding up his hair and letting the rain weigh down his brunet locks.

“Hua Cheng,” Xie Lian croons knowingly, widening his eyes in faux innocence. The instant look of surprise on Crimson Rain’s face is all Xie Lian needs before kicking the pirate’s sword to the side, scattering it a few meters away. Xie Lian dives for the exact sword, adjusting to the new weight and shape of the weapon. His palm throbs where the cut splits further open, blood staining the hilt.

Xie Lian swiftly points the sword at Hua Cheng’s jugular, their positions now switched.

Now, it is the pirates who are yelling chaotically, demanding their captain not let a rotten prince get the best of him. Hua Cheng simply clicks his tongue, signaling his men to retreat.

“Your Highness...” the pirate captain murmurs. Xie Lian digs the sword more insistently into Hua Cheng’s skin, forcing the pirate back. Xie Lian herds him onto the official plank, where traitors are typically executed, sentenced by the prince himself.

“Back. Up,” is all Xie Lian offers bitterly, his long hair curtaining his face, body still tense even though he has the upper hand. Hua Cheng holds his hands up in surrender, his hair drenched with rain, the long braid crooked where it cascades down his right shoulder.

“Xie Lian,” Hua Cheng addresses in a sweeter tone. “My dear Prince, if you could see yourself now.”

Xie Lian swallows thickly.

“You are a beautiful sight,” Hua Cheng rasps out, no more than a whisper. Yet, Xie Lian catches every word, and his heart clenches painfully.

Of course, Hua Cheng would think that.

Xie Lian’s sword wavers, but only because the pouring rain has stolen every bit of warmth as it washes down his body, making him shiver. The prince knows everyone’s attention is on them, the royal guards cheering their prince on in hopes that this conflict will end in their victory.

But they remain unaware of their biggest defeat.

The Prince of Xianle had fallen in love with a pirate.

With an unbearably heavy heart, Xie Lian draws his sword back. Tears leak out of his eyes and stream down his face, mixing in with the rain. In this very moment, Xie Lian feels the most suffocated he’s ever been, and wonders if this is truly what it feels like to be on the brink of death.

As if it happens in slow motion, Xie swings the sword with all the power he possesses. Hua Cheng’s arms stretch open in vulnerability, lips forming into a small, understanding smile.

“Gege.”

Something inside Xie Lian shatters. The familiar term of endearment is for Xie Lian’s ears only. His heart pounds against his rib cage with the ferocity of an imprisoned soul, screaming at Xie Lian to ask not what he would wish for in death, but what is he willing to live for?

The answer is right in front of him.

“I’m back.”

《Bonus I》

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #pirate & prince au #TBC #cerdrabbles #tian guan ci fu #xie lian is going through some things #forbidden love

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xiaodejunletsact · 5 years ago

Text

i still love you | zhong chenle

word count: 17, 367

genre: high school!au, basketball!player, angst, fluff, you are a bet au??? lol idk 8 letters!au

warnings: lots of angst, playing of emotions, mentions of panic attacks and sex.

authors note: im finally back!! with a chenle fic!! okay so,, i wanted to thank everyone who loved 8 letters, the reaction to that fic was better than anything i could’ve ever imagined, so thank you so much!! this is like a chenle version from the same universe. but most importantly: i decided to put songs in some scenes to enhance the experience while reading, you don’t have to but if you want to listen to the ‘soundtrack’ of this fic click the ‘🏀’!!!!! please enjoy!!

synopsis: high school can be complicated. thats why when your crush of three years, zhong chenle, approaches you out of nowhere offering to drive you home you are right to question his intentions.

🏀

You can hear the loud thumping of your heart in your ears as you watch the players dart across the court. The squeaking of their sneakers against the polished floor as they furrowed their eyebrows in concentration. Well… as he furrowed his eyebrows in anticipation, you wouldn’t know about the rest of the players on the court because your eyes were focused on one boy in particular. Number 22, Zhong Chenle. Your crush since sophomore year and soon to be captain of the basketball team (even if this is your personal opinion you’re 87% sure of it). The boy had caught your eye when he first smiled your way back in 10th grade and offered to help you with everything since you were new, leaving a stamp on your heart that would mark it as his own for the next years to come. Of course, you hardly ever spoke to him, too nervous and clumsy to even think of approaching someone so out of your league but there was something about his crinkly smile eyes and fluffy hair that got a hold of and never let go.

Which is why you find yourself seated at the school’s bleachers watching the basketball game like you did every week, hands clutching the sides of the bench as you watched Chenle get the orange ball passed to him, and the scene plays in slow motion.

Sweat drips off the tips of his newly dyed blond hair as he gains impulse with a jump, shooting a perfect three pointer and deeming the game of victory for his team. You proudly smile as you watch his teammates cause a ruckus around him, cheering and hitting him occasionally. However, your mood dampened as you watched Chenle escape the clutches of his team, running to the side benched where Ava, (the bitchiest girl in school but also his girlfriend), sat. He leans down to peck her lips, only to be stopped when she holds her hand up, pushing him away with a disgusting, “you’re sweaty!” He looks dejected for a second, before forcing a smile and turning back towards the team. You wonder if you’re the only one who noticed the interaction, you wonder if you’re the only one who cares enough to want to march down there and tell her off. You huff, instead opting to march your angry way to the entrance of the gym starting the trek home. Wondering if Number 22 will ever be yours like you desperately want him to.

It’s funny how much of your life you could dedicate to one person without any sort of reciprocation. You felt almost embarrassed as you shoved yet another letter into an envelope that increasingly got thicker and thicker with every burst of your emotions. You see, every time your feelings for Chenle got too strong to bare you would write short letters about how you felt, obviously, with no intention of Chenle ever getting his hands on them, just for your own catharsis. It helped, most days.

Today is not one of those days.

“Uh huh…” you said absentmindedly at your friend, Donghyuck , who tries to explain to you what intricate contraption they are building in this week's robotics class. However, you’re too busy looking over his shoulder at Chenle who laughs half heartedly at something his friend says, before going serious once again. You furrow your eyebrows and say, “have you noticed anything off about Chenle?”

Donghyuck sighs, knowing he has lost you once again. Nevertheless, he humors your narrative turning to watch the boy in question along with you. “I mean… he is kind of down.”

“Right?” You reply, shutting your locker and clicking the lock. Donghyuck shrugs.

“Maybe it’s because he broke up with his girlfriend this weekend.”

You stop dead in your tracks, “He did what?”

Donghyuck nods, (like it’s not a huge deal!) “at the party you missed this weekend, they got into a big fight and he told her it was over and stormed off.”

“A-and you didn’t think to tell me this?” You respond to which he just shrugs.

“It’s not like you had a chance with him anyway.”

“Ouch, Donghyuck .”

The words stung, of course but you knew Donghyuck was just being realistic with you, never one to lead you into things that could only hurt you in the future.

Donghyuck says something after that, that you don’t quite catch but you guess it’s fine since you didn’t really want to listen to him right now anyway.

Especially since Zhong Chenle just caught you staring at him and is now staring just as intensely into your eyes as you were to the side of his face.

You don’t know what kind of glitch you go through that you are unable to form any type of reaction or look away. Instead just kind of… freezing.

He brings up a hand and slightly waves in your direction. A kind smile on his face.

Oh no. He actually sees you.

Before you can even process it, you realize that you're running down the hall in the direction opposite to him. Out of the back door of the school, heaving as your heartbeat reaches 3000bpm.

🏀

Recalling the memory as you walk to the bus stop that afternoon causes you to slap your palm against your forehead once again. “What was I thinking? Now Chenle is really going to think I’m a freak.”

You couldn’t believe yourself, kicking the gravel underneath your sneakers in frustration you beat yourself up over having ruined the only interaction that could’ve possibly been your chance to win his heart. It could’ve been the last time he ever looked your way again, and you wouldn’t blame him.

But it wasn’t.

Because just minutes after, like a miracle from heaven, you hear the roar of an expensive car engine near you before hearing his angelic voice call the syllables you thought you’d never hear him say: “Y/N!”

Wide eyed, your snap your head to the sound of his voice only to see him through the window of his shiny million dollar car. He smiles and you feel like running again. He notices. “Wait! Don’t go!”

You hear the buckle of his seatbelt being undone and watch in shock as he jogs around the car and suddenly he towering over you with a sweet smile. “Hi.”

Say hi back! What are you doing? “Uh- I- uh- Hi?”

He chuckles, looking down at his shoes before looking into your eyes once again. “How you doing?”

“I’m- im good.” You stutter.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The silence that follows makes you want to get swallowed up by the ground and never see daylight again.

Chenle notices how you avoid his eyes and chuckles once again, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, um, I just saw that you were walking and wanted to know if you wanted a ride.”

“In your car?” You ask in a quiet voice. Chenle laughs.

“I mean, yeah. Unless you want to rent bikes from the tourism center.” You allow a small smile to grace your lips briefly before remembering the circumstances you currently found yourself in. Chenle (Zhong Chenle, Number 22, Yes. Chenle.) has just offered you a ride in his fancy car. The same car you watched him pull up in for two whole years. And he wants you to get in it.

The millions of scenarios that go through your head as to why this could be happening but as you painfully remember today’s events, you realize what this is about.

Chenle shoves both his hands in his jean pockets as he awaits your answer. “...So?”

You breathe in deeply, “Listen, um, if you’re doing this because you feel bad about earlier or something, please don’t.”

Chenle’s eyebrows furrow together and he comes closer to you. “That’s not the case at all, I just saw you walking all by yourself and thought to offer you a ride home.”

“But you drive past here every day and you’ve never offered me a ride before?” You question out loud, wincing as you realize that you could possibly sound creepy for knowing where he goes in the afternoon. “I mean- you always drive in the same direction as my bus stop! So I see you!” You feel how clammy your palms are rubbing against the harsh fabric of your jeans. “Speaking of the bus, I should probably go before I miss it.”

Just as you turn to walk away, Chenle’s hand grips your wrist where your sleeve has ridden up, allowing the first skin to skin contact you ever made with him. Your eyes widen at him and he lets go immediately, awkwardly. “I guess I was focused on other things, but now I’m focused on you.”

In the fever dream that was Zhong Chenle flirting (?), and the insistent drumming of your heart in your ears you come back to only realize you were moving into Chenle’s car. (The doors opened upwards!)

The boy took the liberty of opening it for you, closing it once you were settled in. You took the moment he was walking to the driver’s side to take in a deep breath and compose yourself.

What the hell is going on? Why Zhong Chenle talking to you? Why is he driving you home? Why did he tell you he’s focused on you? What? What does any of this mean?

Before you could begin pulling your hairs out in frustration, Chenle’s door opens and he plops down onto the driver’s seat. He looks over at you with a smile as he fastens his seatbelt, “Buckle up.” You do so quietly, biting your lip to prevent any further embarrassment.

The drive begins with little to no talking, the only thing filling the silence being the constant humming of the air conditioning and static of the radio.

“Do you want to listen to something?” He presses his pale fingers to the glossy touch screen in between you two. Soon enough, a soft beat travels through the ambience of his car. You see from the corner of your eye that he looks over at you and smiles, but keep your nervous eyes on the road in front of you; Chenle faces the road once again, tilting his head to the side in a gesture that you would find unbearably cute any other day makes you want to open the car door and jump out into the street, running away from the awkward silence and the confusing thoughts plaguing your mind.

Chenle leaves after promising to pick you up tomorrow morning, you can only nod your head rapidly and run into your house, afraid that he would be able to hear the loud beats of your heart.

Once the door of your room is closed safely behind you, you finally breathe for the first time this afternoon. “What the fuck? What the shit? What the hell?” You mutter to yourself as you pace around the room.

Could it be that your dreams are finally becoming a reality? Had Chenle seen you the way you saw him this entire time?

The one sided crush wasn’t as one sided as you thought! Is what you wanted to think, but there was part of you that questioned where his intentions lie due to the abruptness of the situation. What if there was an ulterior motive behind his actions? No. Chenle wouldn't do something as bad as play with someone’s emotions like that? Right?

As you lay in bed pondering the thought you decide it's best to ask him tomorrow.

You wake up 30 minutes earlier the next day, showering thoroughly and waiting in the living room so as to not make him wait too long to leave when he arrives.

This moment comes while you’re sitting at the table with your family, your eyes widen as you hear the knocks on your front door. “I’ll get it!” You stop your mother from reaching the door as you run to it.

Chenle smiles politely as your face appears from inside the house. “Hey.”

You smile back nervously, “Hi.” You proceed to stand at the doorway for a few awkward seconds before your mother comes to see who it is. She is pleasantly surprised to see someone of the male species there in front of you.

“Oh?” She says, smiling at him then looking at you suggestively. You try to convey a silent plea to not embarrass you before she looks away to shake Chenle’s hand. “Hi! I’m Y/N’s mom, are you one of her friends?”

Chenle smiles at her sweetly, “Yes, I am. I’m actually here to pick Y/N up for school.”

“You’re taking Y/N to school?” Your mother’s shocked face is enough to tell Chenle that it was probably the first time anything like this has happened to you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Your mother sends you a sly smile that she thinks Chenle doesn’t notice before nudging your arm. “Then what are you doing standing there? Don’t make him wait!” Your groan and rub the spot on her arm where she pushed you as you go upstairs to grab your backpack.

Downstairs, Chenle accepts your mother’s offer of entering your humble home. Your house is a modest abode with strange decorations hanging up on the walls, along with pictures of your family. The living room looks like an orphanage where mix matched furniture goes to live. There's one pale green couch, one beige and one a bright yellow. Chenle thinks back to the pristine state of his own living room, the pure white furniture and modern, classy decorations hung up on the marble walls. He realizes that it is nothing like his own, in fact, he doesn’t think it could’ve been more different but he finds that he likes it. That it feels homey compared to his usually liefless house. It’s the kind of place he would stay in for a long time.

Chenle shakes those thoughts out of his as soon as they appear, remembering why he was doing this in the first place, he couldn’t risk getting attached.

“Be honest with me.”

Chenle startles upon hearing your voice above its normal shy muttering. You, on the other hand, are shaking in your shoes having practiced what you would say and thought over doing this millions of times last night. “What are your intentions? Like, it’s not that I think you’re a bad person or anything but I just don’t understand because of the suddenness.”

Chenle averts his eyes from the road to glance at you, smiling. He faces forward once again sighing slightly. “Okay, I’ll be honest,” He starts, you sit up straighter and involuntarily lean toward him. “I think you’re really cute, I always noticed you at my games and the way you would cheer me on was really endearing and it encourages me a lot.”

The butterflies that erupt in your stomach with his words are undeniable. “You noticed me?” Your quiet voice is back, still, he hears you. He smiles, and it’s genuine.

“Of course I did,” he says, “And i know that it was very… sudden but if you give me a chance i would really love to take you on dates and maybe… more.”

He sounds slightly unsure of himself. Rubbing the leather of his wheel with his hands.

Your mind is mush. Chenle likes you! He thinks you're cute and he noticed you at his games! What is life?!

“What do you say?” he says after the awkward pause in which you freaked out.

‘No’ is not a word in your dictionary.

The cycle continues throughout the next week; Chenle picks you up every morning (never forgetting to bid your mother a good morning) and takes you home every afternoon (always politely rejecting your mother’s offers to stay for dinner), always spilling banter in the car, learning about each other. Chenle notices how you open up to him and he likes it (though he can’t really pinpoint why), he likes talking to you, and laughing with you and he finds himself wanting to be around you more often. Though this wasn’t initially part of the plan, he figures he can enjoy it until it had to end.

The thought makes an eerie feeling rise in his chest, even if he doesn't know why, he thinks things will be a lot harder than he planned.

🏀

It’s friday when Chenle invites you to come watch his basketball practice.

You had imagined this scenario in your head plenty of times before but not once did you think you would ever actually be here sitting on the players bench watching up close as Chenle maneuvered across the court along with the rest of the players. There was sweat dripping off the tip of his blonde hair which made him look 10 times more attractive than he already was and you have to stop the drool that threatens to leak from your lips as he sits down next to you on the bench. “Hey.”

“Hi,” You reply, trying to keep yourself together.

“Practice is over.” Chenle says motioning towards the now empty court. It's only then that you realize that you and Chenle are alone, and suddenly, he’s sitting a lot closer to you than you thought. You turn your face to him and realize that your noses are nearly touching, Chenle smiles. “Hi.” He says, coming a bit closer until he feels the moisture of his sweaty arm against your dry one, he recoils. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so sweaty right now.” There’s a dust of embarrassed blush on his face as he slides away on the bench. Your heart starts beating erratically as you watch him try to rub his sweat away with his small hand towel.

You can’t find the words to tell him it’s okay (slightly scared to tell him that you like it) so you say the next best thing. “You looked cool playing.”

This eases him a bit, he smiles. “You think so?”

“Yeah!” You say, “Like Curry!”

Chenle laughs, “Oh man! I can’t believe you just compared me to Curry.” He stands and takes a bow, waving his towel dramatically. “I am honored.”

The scene causes you to giggle, and Chenle has to take a breather to calm his own beating heart.

“Especially when you blocked Jaemin at the 3rd point and scored on the spot. I was impressed.”

“You must know a lot about basketball.” He points out. You shake your head.

“Not really,” is your response. “I only learned from coming to watch your games.” The sudden confession slipped from your lips and you momentarily panicked.

Upon not hearing a response from Chenle, your breathing deepens and you think maybe you ruined the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, Chenle watches you with curious eyes. He senses the tension coming from you and walks away, leaving you alone in your troubled state.

You think maybe Chenle left without, freaked out and uncomfortable because of what you said, however, you’re proven ridiculously wrong when you dribble a basketball on the floor.

You lift your gaze to Chenle who dribbled the orange ball with a teasing smile on his face. “Why don’t you show me what you got?”

“I- I don’t-“ you begin.

“Oh come one, Y/N!” He says, passing the ball to you, “You have to be good. I mean, you did learn from the best.” The cocky shrug of his shoulders and teasing smile bring you peace of mind and you find yourself agreeing.

It’s safe to say that Chenle is surprised at your skills. He should’ve known you had paid enough attention to him to learn all his techniques and dodge them while playing. And to think he was planning on letting you win so you could feel better. It eventually became a full competition. Sweaty bodies and heavy breathing, running, dodging, scoring. Teasing words and intense competitive gazes.

The score was 7-7. Chenle sweeps in to swipe the ball from your hands but you pivot and shoot the three pointer right from your spot. “Yes!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air with a celebratory dance. “I won!”

Chenle is leaning with his hands on his knees, his chest heaving. “I need-“ he breathes, “I need to stop being so good at basketball. So heathens like you can stop learning my best tricks.” He brings his hand up to pinch your cheek teasingly. “You should join the team.” He says jokingly. You chuckle, rubbing the spot on your face that was just touched by his fingers.

“As if.”

“Hey! Does the idea of being in a team with tons of rowdy sweaty dudes that unappealing?” Chenle jokes, placing the basketball back in its place.

“It’s enough with you.”

Before you can retract the statement, Chenle speaks. “That’s right, you only need one sweaty rowdy basketball player in your life.” He winks. “And that’s me.”

You laugh at his words but can feel your heartbeat all throughout your body. You can’t stop your mind from thinking:

You’re damn right. It’s you.

As you walk back to his car, Chenle is the first to break the comfortable silence. “You know… it was nice to see you so talkative and competitive today. I had fun.”

And despite everything, he meant it. He knows he probably shouldn’t, but he does.

Unaware of his inner turmoil, you smile. “I did too.”

He gives you a lopsided smile in return before sliding the strap of your backpack off your shoulder and onto his own, keeping his own backpack company. “I’ll carry it for you.”

You wonder if this is the start of something magical. Beside you, Chenle wonders the same but his thoughts are weaved with something more, something that meant trouble.

You, however, hurry home to pour your feelings into a letter. Hearts drawn on the borders of the loose leaf page and a smile on your face all throughout.

🏀

Every week it gets harder to become immune to Chenle’s charm.

Today, he did something as simple as drop you off at home after school. However, before bidding you goodbye as song rings from the radio of his car. Chenle perks up. “I love this song!”

He turns up the radio to its full capacity and rolls down the windows, making the music sound through the street.

“Chenle! Turn that down!” You exclaim but the laughter in your tone hints that you want the exact opposite. Chenle shakes his head.

“No can do!” he waves his arms dramatically in the air, “Dance with me!”

You laugh once again at the wonderful boy, “You’re ridiculous!”

“Oh yeah?” He says challengingly. Suddenly he is opening the door and dancing on the sidewalk where everyone could see him. His movements are almost manic and all you can do is continue laughing. “I’m not leaving until you dance with me.”

“My neighbors are going to see you.” You warn. He shrugs.

“It's fine. I’ll just tell them I’m with you!”

“Oh my god no.” You say, stepping out of the passenger’s side, walking around the car until you’re in front of him, you cross your arms.

“Show me some moves, I’m getting tired.”

And so an impromptu two people dance party breaks out on the sidewalk in front of your house. Even though in your imagination dancing with Chenle would require the presence of an elegant ball gown and fancy chandeliers, all there is to be seen is loud music, laughter, grabbing of hands and playful banter. And you wonder if it could ever be more perfect than this.

Of course, like any other human, Chenle has his moments.

The morning car ride was as silent as could be. Chenle’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, angrily. His usual smile is replaced but a scowl that only left momentarily when you stepped into the car earlier, a (clearly forced) polite smile is what you saw.

Since then you didn’t dare to speak, not wanting to bother him when he was clearly having a bad time.

You arrive at the school and escape the still awkward ambience, bidding him a quiet farewell before running in.

You proceeded to spend the entire school day wondering what was up with Chenle that morning and what you could do to help him. It’s when you meet at the end of the day once again that you ask, “Hey, is everything okay?”

The boy freezes up, before clearing his throat. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

You shrug, “Nothing, you you were just kind of, like, quiet this morning… so i figured you were upset.”

The blonde boy in the driver’s seat keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, “It’s nothing, Y/N.” He says in a rough tone, one you’ve never heard or thought you would ever hear him use. “It doesn’t concern you anyway, okay?”

Your form deflates into the seat, wishing you had kept quiet like you did this morning. You reply, “Okay.”

There’s tension. Body swallowing tension that lasts all throughout the car ride to your house, as Chenle pulls up in front the driveway and you have already unbuckled your seatbelt before he got the chance to put the car in park.

In the passenger’s seat, Chenle feels the guilt creeping on him. He realizes that you only asked because you cared. “Wait-” Seemingly, he is too late since you’ve already shut the car door and made your way up your driveway. “Goddammit.” He sighs to himself, working to take off his seatbelt.

Your feet hurriedly take you to your door after you exit Chenle’s car, your nerves increase as you hear Chenle leave his car. “Y/N, I-”

The door opens before you can turn the handle, your mother’s smiling face looks back at you. “Hey, Honey.” You smile back at the woman, who immediately notices the emotions behind your smile. Quietly, she asks: “Are you okay?”

As soon as you nod in response, her eye catches Chenle standing guilty behind you. “Chenle! How are you?”

Chenle smiles with a nod, “I’m doing alright.”

“Well, I would invite you in for dinner but I can imagine what your answer will be.” She says jokingly, teasing him for all the times he had rejected her offer. To her surprise, Chenle doesn’t laugh awkwardly or agree with her, instead, he ponders for a bit. His gaze finds your own causing you to quickly look away. He feels his heart contract as he thinks of starting at square one with you; back to when you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Actually,” He says, “Dinner sounds great.”

🏀

Even though the tension between you and Chenle is painfully obvious, he feels his heart become lighter as he watches how you interact with your little siblings. Laughing at their childish antics and playing along with them at the dinner table. Your parents engaged in conversation with each other across the table and Chenle sat next to you, smiling and nodding as your little sister animatedly explained to him why the rocks she found next to the trash can at recess just had to be magical. As he looks at the dynamic you have in your home, he realizes that this feels more like a home than his house ever has. All of you are sat at the table, the splash of colors brought by the miscellaneous decorations, the laughter and the love radiating from every corner makes Chenle want to stay there forever.

“Woah!” He acts, “Are you serious?”

The little girl nods proudly, “Mhm! And I’m going to give this one,” she points to a particular shiny one on the dining table, “to Y/N, so she can make her dream come true. But don’t tell her it’s a secret.”

He chuckles at her before whispering, “why do you think she’ll ask for?”

She giggles, leaning closer. She puts a hand over her mouth as she whispers. “Number 22.”

Chenle refrains from gasping, “Huh?”

“She talks about him but she never wants to tell me who he is.” She explains. “But I think if she had a rock to grant her wishes, she would wish for him.”

Chenle takes this moment to look over at you, studying your side profile as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, helping your little brother with his food.

That’s when it hits him. He realizes that this isn’t what he planned it to be, that the bet he set up with his friends had gone too far, and that if he himself had a magic rock for his use… he would wish for you too.

“Thank you so much for the food, it was delicious.” Chenle says, rubbing his full belly to emphasize. Your mother chuckles. “It was my pleasure, Chenle. You can come back anytime you want, you are always welcome here.”

“I definitely will, ma’am.” He says with a lopsided smile before shaking your father’s hand firmly. You can already tell by the way your father affectionately claps his hand on his shoulder and smiles at him that he too has taken a liking to the boy, like your mother.

“Y/N.” She says sternly, turning to you who currently battled to avoid Chenle’s eyes. You hum. “Be polite and walk Chenle to his car, please.”

You grimace subtly, not wanting to be the awkward air that would come with being alone with him. You want desperately to say no, but the gaze your mother gives you tells you that would mean trouble for you.

The basketball player notices your hesitation and looks down sadly at his sneakers, remaining that way as you lead him to the front door of your house. Its then that Chenle looks up to the view of the back of your head, his hand twitches in want to smoothen out the ahi at the back of your head for you.

You catch Chenle mid dilemma as you turn to face him, gesturing towards the open door. His eyes shift from you to the door. And to his car, he thinks about the ride home and how once he gets home it will just be him and he’ll be alone.

He doesn’t want to be alone. Strangely enough, he wants to be with you.

“Chenle?” He hears your soft voice. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch him stand there, unmoving, with a look of confusion. He looks into your eyes and realizes you’re waiting for him to walk through the door first. He does so, head tilted down. You follow him out the door and close it behind you.

You trail behind him until he reaches his car, however, instead of getting in like you expected him to, he turns abruptly to you. His eyes are glossy and startled at the sight of them. “Do you-“ He pauses, hesitating. “Do you wanna go for a drive?”

“A drive?” You ask, watching him fiddle nervously with his keys.

“Yes.”

“Right now?” He nods firmly.

“I don’t- I don’t think my parents will let me go out this late.” You say, wrapping your arms around yourself to combat the winter wind. Before saying in a quieter voice, remembering the events that took place earlier that day, “And I thought you wanted to be alone.”

Chenle feels guilty upon hearing your words. Knowing you felt hurt by his words from earlier. He shakes his head, stepping closer to you. “No. I don’t. That’s the last thing I want right now.”

You see something in his eyes that you had never seen before. Exhaustion mixed with sadness and worry. The usually mischievous happy go lucky look nowhere to be seen amongst all the turmoil you found looking at him. You immediately grew more concerned. “Chenle…” you say, he looks away momentarily. “I’ll- let me ask my parents.”

Much like many times before, you’re sat in the passenger's side of his expensive car. The scene has become common, except the ambiance is different. Chenle doesn’t attempt to start conversation like he always does, instead, he just stares forward blankly. Occasional tears rolling down his pale cheeks which he wipes away as soon as they appear, you are itching to ask the boy what is going on in his pretty head but decide against it once you remember how that turned out earlier. So you keep silent as Chenle presses harder on the gas causing the streetlights of the empty highway to become a blur above you. It momentarily impressed you how fast his car could go, however, once you look over at the boy, you see his state. Chenle has strings of tears running down his face, snot dripping out of his nose and even his hair is sticking to his forehead due to his excessive sweating.

“Chenle, maybe we should pull over.”

He doesn’t seem to hear you, only pushing further down on the accelerator. Fear and concern enters your bloodstream as you watch him become a version of himself you’ve never seen, a version you didn’t even think existed. You reach over took him and rest your shaky hand on his arm. Upon feeling your touch, his head snaps to you and he hits the brakes abruptly causing your entire body to jolt forward. “Woah!”

Chenle’s chest heaves as he sees how scared he has made you. “I’m- I’m sorry.”

“Pull over, Chenle.” You say sternly, pulling your hand away and instead of doing what he wanted to do which was pulling your hand back to him, he does as you told him and park his car on the side of the road. The two of you sit in silence for what feels like forever, until you hear a sniffle come from Chenle’s side of the car. Looking over, you notice how he is hunched over the steering wheel, crying.

“Chenle?” You use the softest voice you could muster. “Chenle, what’s wrong?”

Your immediate response is silence. He takes in short choked breaths, it seems like every breath he takes causes him to fall into a state of agony.

“I think-” he said, voice quivering. “Y/N, I think I’m a bad person.”

The sentence confuses you. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I did something terrible to someone I care about.” He answers, you note that he is not able to meet your eyes. It scares you. “What did you do?”

“I can’t-” He says breathlessly, his hand fumbling to open his car door. Stumbling out, watch as he makes his way around the car, leaning against the cement railing with his head in his hands.

You watch him in momentary shock before following him his actions and getting out of the car as well. You carefully approach him. “What is going on with you?”

Chenle sighs, pulling his hands away from his face. “I had a fight with my mother this morning, and everything was just piling up and I guess that was just the last straw.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just… everyone expects so much from me.” He breathes. “My parents, my friends, my teachers, everyone at that damn school!” The railing in front of him takes the blows of his frustration. “And I don’t think i’m as good as they think i am, i'm not worth it.” He looks over at you and you immediately straighten at the sight of his red face. “Like you, Y/N. You’re so good to me, so nice and sweet. I don’t deserve it. Especially from you.”

You don’t know what he means by that. Chenle knows you don’t know but he stays silent. You take this as your chance to speak. “I’m not only nice to you because I want to be. Because you’ve always been nice to me too, Chenle.” You dare to step closer, into his bubble. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, it would be impossible to meet everyone’s expectations so just be yourself… that’s enough for a lot of people.”

Chenle’s mouth speaks before he can stop it. “Is it enough for you?”

To forgive me? To still be the same after you realize what I’ve done.

There is a silence that follows that one sentence, Chenle avoids your gaze nervously, he doesn’t realize that your silence is the product of your racing mind. The mind that is currently trying to find the words to describe what is happening in your heart. You ultimately decided that the best way to go is the truth.

“You know… I kinda had a crush on you all throughout high school, which is kind of embarrassing but that’s not the point,” you start, “the point is that I had this perfect version of you in my head. Of what you would be like. And then when you came up to me that day… I didn’t know if I could talk to someone who wasn’t the Chenle I knew up here.” You take the liberty of poking a finger against your temple. “But I did anyway, and I realized you were nothing like the Chenle I saw in my head…”

Chenle chuckled sadly before commenting, “Ouch.”

“You were better than him.” Chenle’s gaze snaps towards you in shock, you look forward. Too afraid to meet his gaze. “Nicer, funnier, and way more handsome than I thought up close.” You chuckle, having made the comment to help him feel better. “So yeah. I would say you are enough. More than, even.”

“You really mean that?”

For the first time you make eye contact, you furrow your eyebrows to try and make your sincerity as apparent as possible. “I do.”

He knows you do and that mends his heart as much as it breaks it into tiny pieces. He wants nothing more than to pull you towards him and smash his lips onto your own, but he also knows that it will only worsen the situation that is yet to come. Still his hands reach before he can stop them and reach to cup either side of your face.

Your heartbeat is running at an unearthly speed, Chenle can hear it but knows his own is probably the same. Betraying his common sense, he leans into you until your lips are almost touching, the top brushing enough to have you wanting more. You think he’s going to kiss you and close your lips tightly. However, instead of his lips, you feel his hot breath when he utters the words: “I’m sorry.” Before removing his hands from your face and backing away.

You can’t say the action didn’t cause a hurtful blow to your feelings but you also knew Chenle was in a tough place right now. You smile at him. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

Chenle hates how you smile at him when he does things that hurt your feelings. He hates that you’re so considerate and nice to him despite what he is doing to you behind your back. He hates that you will find out one day and that you’ll hate him as much as he hates this. He hates that he doesn’t want to lose you, and that in the end he probably will.

Friday is a holiday, so you don’t see Chenle the day after he took you on a late night drive with him. (You wrote another letter that night). In fact, you don’t hear from him until your phone chimes Saturday morning, Chenle’s name above a text message.

22 [9:15am]: hey

22 [9:15am]: I hope you’re good :)

22 [9:15am]: I just wanted to let you know there’s a party at my house tonight

22 [9:16am]: if you want

22 [9:18am]: actually, I really want you there so…

22 [9:20am]: please come.

You read the texts over a few times, it dawns upon you that you've never seen Chenle’s house. Sure, you’ve heard from classmates who had gone to his huge parties that it was extravagant as can be, resembling a hotel lobby rather than a house. The thought of being in his home made your hands sweat. Still, you remember how anxious you were to see him, especially after the other night, and you find yourself typing a reply of confirmation before tossing your phone to the side and walking to your closet to find something to wear for tonight.

🏀

As soon as your parents drop you off in front of what was easily the biggest, brightest, classiest house you’ve ever seen in your entire life, you get the unnerving urge to go home.

The abundance of people did nothing to help the creeping anxiety, the stares of some that briefly trained on you before whispering something to their friends. You couldn’t help but feel out of place. That is, until you see a familiar face. Jisung walks up to you with his hand wrapped around his girlfriend’s. “Hi!” He calle brightly as the girl waved friendly.

“Hey guys!” You try to stabilize your voice. “How’s the party?”

“Honestly… it kinda turned sour once some lower class men came and started to get wasted.” Jisung chuckled out, his girlfriend nods in agreement as she grips his arm affectionately. You smile when he looks over at her and smiles. There’s a part of you that feels envious of the relationship the two have but most of your thoughts surround how happy you are for the two. “We’re probably leaving soon anyway.” Jisung adds on.

After getting over your monetary panic of having to be alone once again you nod your head, smiling at them. “Okay, I’m going to try to find Chenle.” They nod and bid their farewells, you sigh out loud as you walk through the crowd once again, searching for the blonde hair of the boy you so desperately need to calm right now.

“I heard that she is the one Chenle left Ava for?” You hear someone say.

“No way! Chenle wouldn’t stoop that low, plus I heard Ava broke up with him.”

“Either way, I don’t understand why he would be hanging with her anyway, he probably feels sorry for her. What a loser.”

It’s strange how you can hear their comments over the loud music that causes the walls to vibrate. You feel like vomiting as your insecurities take over and another sweaty presses against you. You push them away and run the rest of the way, not looking to find Chenle anymore just wanting to get out of here. You find what you hope is the bathroom and open the door, running inside and shoving the door closed, chest heaving.

“Y/N?” You hear from behind you, you turn around in shock and make eye contact with the red faced boy you spent your whole night looking for. “Chenle.”

It’s then that you realize that he’s not alone. Across from him is an equally red faced Ava, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down in a frown.

It dawns upon you that you might have just interrupted something.

You look between the two before averting your gaze back to the floor. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Hands grabbing the door handle and turning it quickly in a desperate attempt to flee the room. Completely deaf to the , “Wait!” That leaves Chenle’s mouth as you leave the room.

Soon enough your back in the sea of sweaty drunks, trying to stabilize your voyage to the front door. To escape the stormy waters this night has caused your nerves.

And you almost make it, had it not been for the harsh shove you received that sent you tumbling onto the floor. Suddenly, the people around you become giants and their huge feet stomp around you, threatening to squash you under their sneakers as if you were an irrelevant bug.

Your shaky legs prevent you from standing up, and you only realize you’re crying when you feel a tear run down the side of your neck. No one seems to notice you’re there and you suddenly remember why being invisible sucks.

It feels like ages have passed when you feel hands gripping your arms and lifting you onto your feet. Chenle’s voice sounds distance even if he’s barely an inch away from you. “Are you okay?”

“I think-“ you say, shakily. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”

Chenle takes your head and shoves it into his chest, making sure to keep a hand over your eyes as he leads you through the crowd. “It’s okay.” He whispers. “Everything is going to be okay.”

He repeats the sentences over and over until you two reach a quieter place and you hear the door of a shutting door and the music becomes muffled.

Chenle keeps a hand secured around your head as he holds you for a few more seconds before slowly letting you go.

“I need you to breathe with me, okay?” He says. Before you can think, you nod. “In through your nose.” He demonstrated, you follow. “Out through your mouth.”

You continue this until the beating of your heart has slowed down and you don’t feel like you're physically suffocating anymore. Instead, you feel tired. Chenle must have noticed because he ushers you to lay on the neatly made bed behind you, tucking you in before you had time to protest.

🏀

It takes a whole ten minutes for either of you to speak, you half expected Chenle to leave after throwing this blue blanket over you, instead, he sits at the edge of the mattress and picks at his nails. Kind of like he wants to say something.

“Thank you for helping me.” You speak first. “I don’t know what went wrong.”

Chenle sighs, “I’m sorry for not finding you, I just- I was-“

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain.” You interrupt, remembering where he was when you finally found him. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, still you know it’s not your place to question him. “I should get going, anyway.” You rush to slip on your shoes only to be stopped by Chenle.

“No, it’s not what you thought it was.” He starts. You avert your gaze from him in fear of what he had to say. “Ava and I ran into each other earlier and she was just going off about how horrible I was in front of everyone. I think she was drunk, but she was causing a scene so I wanted to take her somewhere where it wouldn’t cause a commotion. I didn’t want to bring her in here so I just took her to the bathroom” He says, “We got into a bit of an argument, and that’s when you walked in.”

“It’s-“

“She told me she wanted to get back together.” He blurts out, like he was getting something off his chest.

“Oh.” Is your reply.

“Obviously I said no.” He says, almost expectedly. He doesn’t know that the knot that was tightening in your chest loosened a bit at his words. He watches you for a bit before speaking again. “What- what’s on your mind?”

The question catches you off guard. You don’t really know what’s on your mind, the messy twister of thoughts going too fast for you to be able to reach in and grab a coherent thought. Only one thing pops up and you go with it.

“Is this your room?”

Chenle is silent for a second before he says. “Uh, yeah? Yes, it is.”

You hum, laying on your back once again. It’s then that you notice the glow in the dark stars Chenle has stuck to the ceiling of his room, identical to the ones in your own. “You have stars on your ceiling.”

He chuckles embarrassingly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ve lived here since I was a kid my grandad put them up there when I was young and I just never got around to taking them down.”

“I have the same ones on mine.”

“Really?” He asks. But he can’t help the shift his heart takes as he thinks of the two of you laying under the same glow in the dark stars every night.

Before he knew it, he was walking towards the light switch and flicking it off. The lights shine to their full potential over you. It eases you a bit, until you feel the bed dip next to you and you smell his close proximity to you, feeling the warmth coming his shoulder where it touches your own as you lay side by side.

The silence is comfortable this time.

“Do you ever have panic attacks?” You ask suddenly.

Chenle shakes his head but remembers you can see him, “No.” He whispers, as if someone would hear him. “But Jisung does sometimes, so I learned some techniques to be able to help him through it.”

You smile into the darkness. “That’s nice of you.” You lower your voice to his whispering tone.

Suddenly words are absent and the two of you just stare at the stars to the ceiling.

You know it’s weird, that after the other night, you are lying in Chenle’s bed beside him like nothing happened. Like you had always been there. You wondered whether you should be glad or scared that you feel that way.

Beside you, Chenle is having his own dilemma. On one part, he feels relieved that you’re safe now, that no one can hurt you now that you’re here with him. He feels comforted that you look so at home in his room, blending in so well it almost sends his head reeling. (Partially the reason he turned off the lights.) On another part, he feels so scared that he wants to think you blend in and that he wants to tell you everything in his head. That he wants to let you in, when he knows he shouldn’t. That he felt concern in his veins when he saw you in such a panicked state earlier, and all he wanted to do was tuck you into his chest and protect you forever.

Why did he want to protect you forever?

He turns on his side, you feel it. His breath fans on the side of your face. You turn to his darkness, staring to where you knew his face would be.

“Can I tell you something?” He says, it’s too late to take it back now, since you nod. “The other night when I ate dinner at your house…” he starts, “I was in such a bad place, And I never thanked you for putting up with me and having me over for dinner, it made me feel so much better, you know before everything blew up in the car.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his words. “That was actually my mom’s doing, but I will make sure to tell her you said so.”

Chenle shakes his head, kissing his teeth. “No, that’s not it. It was because you were there, Y/N.”

You hold your breath when he said that, not replying. Chenle takes his own in an attempt to calm his rapid heart. “Spending time with your family kinda made me feel like I was a part of something special.” He confesses. “Something you were a part of.”

An unsteady exhale tumbles from your lips, his statement doing a number on your heart. “What… what are you trying to say?”

This is it, Chenle. Tell her about the bet, confess what you did and fix everything before things get too serious and you break her heart. Tell her the truth!

‘The truth’ Chenle thinks. ‘Okay.’

“I like you, Y/N.” You don’t see that he is squeezing his eyes shut even if the room is pitch black.

“What?” You say in disbelief, even if the butterflies have already started erupting in your stomach.

“I like you.” He repeats. “So much.”

You stare in his direction in a state of shock and happiness. Meanwhile, Chenle beats himself up in his mind, taking your silence as a bad sign. “It's okay if you don’t want to be a thing or anything, I just thought, you know, since I like you and you like me… Liked? Is that past tense?”

Your head shakes and causes a ruffling noise against his pillow. “No, it’s very much present tense.”

The warmth pressed against your shoulder disappears. And you hear Chenle’s footsteps throughout the room, suddenly the world turns bright and Chenle walks back to the bed. Now with the light on, he can see the blush on your cheeks and the small smile you wear. He smiles back at you, but he feels bad. So, so bad.

So bad that leans down to lay over you, kissing your breath away.

It's only after the momentary surprise that you begin to kiss him back.

His lips are rougher than you thought they would be, but still held some pillow like softness you expected. His hands hold your cheeks as he dips down further to bring his lips closer to yours.

Now you totally understood why everyone was so crazy about kissing. It’s the best thing ever, and you never want it to end. However, breathing becomes an issue when you kiss someone, you learned. Chenle is the first to pull away, keeping his face a barely centimeters from your own, your breaths meet in the middle.

When you finally open your eyes, you are met with Chenle’s worried ones already watching you. You immediately frown.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. Are you a bad kisser? Does your breath smell? Does he regret it? His response is unlike those, shocking you when the words leave his mouth.

“I don’t want to break your heart, Y/N.” He looks away from you. His body is still positioned above you, the position being one that makes it hard to avoid your eyes (and one that is even suggestive). Still he tries his best, that is, until he feels your soft hands cradling his cheeks just as he has been doing to your own just a few minutes ago.

“Chenle, look at me.” You say, though your voice is wavering. He obliges. “Why are you worried about that?”

“I just-” You can tell he would look away if you weren’t holding his head in place, he can’t hide his eyes now. “I’m just afraid I'll do something to hurt you and that you’ll hate me.” He says, which isn’t the whole truth but is also not a lie.

“Why would I hate you? I could never.” Chenle wants to scoff sadly when you say that but you cut him off. “I’ll promise to not break your heart if you promise to not break mine.” You extend your pinky in between your faces.

Chenle winces internally, feeling like he already broke your heart. And he is more scared now that it’s real. That you like each other and this probably makes you guys a thing, that he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings like he knows he will. But he also thinks about the fact that he has never felt this way with anyone else, that you were the first girl he ever felt comfortable enough with to let in his room, that you have glow in the dark stars like him and that it kind of feels like you’re split-aparts that have finally found each other. The longer he could keep you by his side, the better.

That’s when he decides to let himself live in this world, at least while he can. He wraps his pinky around yours and lets your thumbs touch, sealing the deal.

He doesn’t have time to regret his decision because you lean up and catch his lips before he can think of anything but you.

🏀

Two weeks later, and most of your days have been spent much like this one. Chenle’s arms wrap protectively around your middle as you read the messages on your phone. One being a reminder from the president of the student council about the special dress code for Valentine’s Day.

You turn in Chenle’s hold and meet his sleepy eyes, he smiles. “Did you see what the student council is doing?”

“Mm?” He replies, you turn your phone to him. “A dress code?”

“Yep, white for single, pink for complicated, and red for taken.” You say, bringing attention back to you phone. “I’m glad I look good in pink.”

The statement confuses Chenle. “What do you mean pink? What is complicated?”

You startle at the awareness and worry on his voice compared to the sleepy mumbles you were getting just moments ago. “Well… I mean, you never asked me to be your girlfriend.”

Chenle freezes. You were right, he never did because part of the bet was to have a girlfriend by Valentines, it made him feel as though he wasn’t a complete asshole if he hadn’t completed the bet. “You’re right.”

You watch him expectedly, but receive no response. Holding back a sigh, you bring your attention back down to your phone.

“Are you upset with me?” His soft voice meets your ears.

You shake your head. “Of course not, why would I be?”

“It’s not fair to you that I keep you waiting.” None of what I’ve done to you is fair, he thinks.

You reach up and stroke the hair that frames his face, smiling softly. “I’ll wait until you’re ready, Chenle. You know that.”

It scares him how soft you are, how warm and safe he feels when he’s with you. That’s when he decides, it’s best if he waits out this week and lets himself live like this longer, even if it’s for a bit.

“Kiss me.” He whispers. And you do. Pushing your chest flush against his, making sure every part of your body touches his own; remaining like that until you are sure you have blisters lining your lips from how much you’ve kissed him.

The two of you end up hotly panting, you straddled over his lying figure. Chenle looks up at you from where he is before sitting up, suddenly, you feel the warmth of his hands tug at the edge of your shirt. His eyes ask for permission, which you reply to with a nod.

You’re nervous. Very much so. You wonder if this will be the first time you have sex or if anything else will happen.

Chenle lifts your shirt off your head and places it next to your body. “Is this okay?” He asks, his big innocent eyes looking up at you.

“Yes.” Is the only answer you can formulate.

The boy maintains eye contact with you as he says the following words. “Do you want to take off mine?”

Your face flushed red, you can feel it. “I-if that’s okay with you.” His answer is in the form of his hands leading your own to the hem of his shirt, before letting go and putting his arms up. Your hands are shaking as you grab the clothing, slowly pulling it up, exposing his pale abdomen inch by beautiful inch.

You smile at him as his head finally reappears from the whole in his shirt. “Hi.” You say, he smiles.

What he does next is something you didn’t expect from the lead up of events, unlike anything you’ve seen in erotic movie or read about in novels.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pushes you down to lay next to him, he then pulls you towards him so that your the heat of your torso melts into his own. He shuffles until he is as close to you as he can get, only then is when stops moving. Resting his cheek against your own, you feel his breath on your ear.

“I just want to be close to you, to hold you.”

Just like that your heart is full to the brim once again.

It’s the night before Valentine’s Day and Chenle is restless. He had decided tomorrow would be the day he would tell you everything. He would come clean and the two of you would start over (right?). He had practiced what he was going to say for hours earlier that night, wanting to have the perfect words so that his message got across to you. Still, even with all that practice, he knows there’s no guarantee that you won’t hate him. That you will swear him off and never speak to him again, when he has become so fond of you. The thought makes his hands ache and toes curl in an angsty feeling.

After tossing and turning for nearly two hours, he finally gives up on sleeping and opts for looking at the stars stuck to his ceiling. He wonders if you’re awake right now. If you’re thinking about him while looking at your stars. He imagines your messy hair and pajamas and smiles softly to himself. “I miss her.” He says out loud, to the darkness of his room.

Suddenly, everything happens in a flash as he throws his covers off himself and marches to the closet, pulling out his favorite red hoodie, grabbing the Valentine’s Day gift he had gotten you days ago then he’s in his car. Desperate to get where you are.

It’s nearly 1am when you hear the knocking on your window. You had just begun to fall asleep when the noise startled you awake.

Upon inspecting your window cautiously, you gasp when you see Chenle’s blonde hair. The window opens with a click. “Chenle! What are you doing here?”

What is he doing here? “I just wanted to see you.”

His words flutter your heart. “But it’s 1am, on a school night.”

“I know that, I just…” he scratches the back of his neck because in reality he doesn’t know why the hell he even came here in the first place. “I had to give you something.”

He extends the bag in his hand out to you. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The bag contains two items, the first being the red hoodie you had seen Chenle wear many times before. His smell reeked off of it, causing you to nearly die of delight. “Wear this tomorrow.” He says. “Cause you’re mine.”

You don’t know that his heart hurts for you, he pities you for being the one who causes him to lose all self control and make decisions that will hurt you in the long run. He feels so sorry that he couldn’t wait until tomorrow, that he just wanted you today, now. Before you get the chance to hate him. To run away. He wanted you to be his.

You say nothing to him, only smiling bashfully as your cheeks matched the color of his clothing item. You look into the bag and see a black box that would be the second item. “What’s this?” You say to yourself, smiling up at Chenle. You open the box to reveal a beautiful necklace with a pretty pink diamond hanging off the end. You gasp.

“Chenle, I can't accept that.” You say, closing it. You knew the necklace probably cost more than your house, you felt guilty taking it.

“Please accept it. I bought it for you. I want to see it on you every day.” He seizes the opportunity to reassure himself. “And yes. It cost a lot, so that means we have to continue seeing each other, hm?”

“Chenle…” you say.

“Please.” He says in a way that makes you wonder if this is only about the necklace.

“Okay.”

You pivot and allow him to clip the chain, you turn to him and catch his reaction to the jewelry resting against your upper chest. “How do I look?”

Chenle’s eyes study the necklace before looking into your own. He smiles somewhat sadly as his arm reaches up to stroke your own. “You look beautiful.” He whispers. “Just like I knew you would.”

You can’t put your finger on it, but something about his demeanor is unsettling. “Chenle, is something wrong?” You ask, to which he shakes his head weakly, but the sad look on his face tells you otherwise. You figure it had something to do with his family and refrain from asking. Instead you cup his cheek to provide him comfort, he leans into your touch and shits his eyes momentarily. “I love it. Thank you.” You say in a quiet voice. Chenle watches your features move into a soft smile before impulsively leaning forward to peck your lips.

“I’m so happy.” To be with you, to be yours. “Let's be happy together for a long time, okay?”

You don’t say no.

The next morning you arrive before every other student to school. Chenle’s red sweater rests on your figure as you reach your locker and take out what had been heavy in your mind since last night. The letters. You were going to give them to Chenle and ask him to be your boyfriend. Sure, you were nervous to do so, but you knew Chenle was someone you wanted to have in your life for a long time. That's why you slip the envelopes decorated with his name one by one into the vent of his locker.

You remember thinking this would be the beginning of something great.

You were wrong.

🏀

There’s a pep in your step as you make your way through the halls after school clad in Chenle’s red hoodie, heart eyes searching for the boy.

And for the first time in probably ever, you wished you wouldn’t have found him. You wished you didn’t have to see Chenle pressed up against his locker with his hands resting on Ava’s hips as she kisses him roughly.

“Oh my god.” You say, voice small but enough to catch Chenle’s ear. The boy immediately pushes Ava away from him and turns to the sound of your voice with pleading eyes.

“Y/N-“

“Look who showed up!” Ava interrupts, turning fully towards you. “I was wondering when you were going to come looking for him like you always do, I bet you’re glad it’s over, right Chenle?”

The way the boy looks away from your eyes to shift his guilty gaze to the floor makes you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Chenle what is she talking about?”

When the boy remains silent, Ava’s high pitched voice answers for him. “Well, since he doesn’t seem very talkative right now, I’ll just tell you myself.” She clears her throat, as if setting the scene, your hands are starting to ache. “A month ago, our darling Chenle made a bet with his friends after our break up, you know as boys do, they said he couldn’t get another girlfriend before Valentine’s Day. Obviously, Chenle’s competitive self took that as a challenge and it’s obvious that you had been in love with him for like ever so you were the easiest target.”

The way the world stops spinning isn’t like it’s described in all the romance novels you read, it’s not the good kind that makes you feel like you're floating that nothing could stop you, it’s the kind that weighs you down and makes you feel dizzy, causing you to stumble. This is what you feel when you ask: “Chenle… is this true?” And the boy just stares at you, for a second before looking away once again.

“Of course, it’s true. He was even showing me the pathetic love letters you wrote to him.” She motions to the stack of letters in Chenle’s hands. You gasp, feeling like every last bit of you was torn apart. The thought of them reading the deepest tellings of your heart and laughing at it, all when you wholeheartedly believed that the boy you spoke about in the letters was finally all yours.

When he wasn’t. He was never yours. But he wanted you to think that.

“Oh my god,” you run to him and attempt to rip the letters out of his hands only for him to hold on tighter. “Let go, Chenle.”

“Y/N, please-“

You can’t help the sob that creeps up your throat as your attempt weakly to shake your heart out of his hands. “Please, let go.”

Chenle watches you cry before him and feels like that the act of ripping his actual heart out of his chest would hurt less than this.

You take this moment of weakness and rip the letters out of his grasp, before running down the hall.

It’s only when you feel a hand grasp your shoulder and spin you around that you realize that Chenle has followed you all the way out to the parking lot.

Seeing him caused every bone in your body to ache, and the contractions in your heart were hard to ignore. “Wait, okay? I need to explain somethings to you.”

“I don’t want to hear your explanations! I just want to go home.” You realize that you probably sound like a bratty child but you couldn’t care less.

Chenle nods, “Okay, then let’s go.”

“Not with you.”

Chenle can't help the dagger that the sentence shoots into his heart. “Then I’ll say what I need to say right here!” He exclaims, trying to mask his pain with anger. “It’s true that I made a bet with my friends to date you the day I first drove you home, and it’s really shitty of me, I know. But I had just broken up with Ava and everything was so messy and I just wanted to make her feel bad so I said yes. “ He pauses, “I said yes and so I went to you since I knew you liked me-“

“Jesus,” you wince, embarrassment creeping up your throat and clogging it up. Your eyes water as you think of how truly fucked up the situation is.

That day, one month ago, you were right to question Chenle’s intentions. No, he didn’t admire you or see you the way you saw him, you were just easy bait. And everything has been a lie. “I can’t- I can’t do this.”

Chenle tries to stop the tears of guilt that threatened to leak from the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No you’re not.” Your bitter words are a shock to Chenle, he had never heard you use that tone with him (or with anyone) before. “You’re not fucking sorry.” Tears of humiliation and frustration run down your face and Chenle wants desperately to cradle your cheeks in his hands, but thinks he might never be able to after this. “It might not have been a big deal to you Chenle, but you were my first kiss, you were the first guy who ever took me on dates and drove me around in his car, you. And I thought you were the first boy who ever liked me.” The smell of him you once loved reeks of the hoodie covering your body, however, instead of feeling welcomed and happy you feel like it’s creeping up the sides of your neck and suffocating you to no end. You groan as you grab the hem of the article and rip it off your body, leaving you in a flimsy t-shirt to combat the winter cold.

Chenle sighs, “I know you’re mad at me but you’re going to get sick if you walk home like that. It’s cold.”

You scoff in response, “Lucky for you then, because you don’t need to worry about me anymore.” In a quieter voice you say. “I was probably just a burden to you this whole time.”

The boy immediately opposes the statement, “You were never a burden, I liked hanging out with you. I care about you.”

“Only because it helped you win that stupid bet, and to make your ex jealous!” You exclaim, finally looking into his sorry eyes. He looks tired, you almost falter in your stance before putting up the wall separating you two that had always been there before the day he drove you home.

You wished he had never approached you, because the Chenle in your dreams would never do this to you.

It’s in that moment that you feel the weight of the dove on your neck, your finger move to unhinge it as you place it on top of the hoodie resting against his chest. You watch his jaw tense as he looks at you. You make eye contact one last time with the blonde haired boy in front of you, Before sadly turning away.

“Y/n please,” it’s the weakest you’ve ever heard his usually booming voice. “Don’t leave me like this. What about our promise, huh? You’re breaking my heart right now.” Chenle knows the attempt to get you to stay is pathetic and desperate but he’s at a loss of what to do.

Angrily, you spit. “You broke my heart the moment you approached me that day so I guess that promise was made to be broken wasn’t it?”

Chenle watches you walk away with your arms wrapped tightly around your shaking body. He sees as you walk past a trash can and dump all your letters into it, wiping your tears and starting your journey to the bus stop.

And he would never share this with you, walks up the trash can with tears in his eyes and reaches into the garbage, picking out every letter in there. He figures it’s the only piece of your heart he can manage to save for himself. It’s proof that the hate you now hold in your heart for him was once love.

Even if he ruined everything.

You never knew they called it heartbreak because your chest physically hurts this much. At times you feel like throwing up, at others you want to throw all your belongings across your room. The pain was almost unbearable at the beginning, embarrassing and hot flashes of anger running through you constantly as you think back to that moment.

You don’t go to school that Monday, telling your mom you were feeling sick. Which isn’t entirely a lie, especially when you see Chenle’s car pull up outside your house that morning. You feel like throwing up again. You’re angry at him. So so angry that he thinks things will be the same after what he did. That he thinks he can pull up at your house and drive you around after completely breaking your heart.

You pull the blinds down as your mom comes through your door. “Honey, Chenle is here.”

“Tell him to leave.” You seeth, tears running down your face. You wipe them away frustratedly. “Tell him to never come back here, Mom.”

Your mother watches with sad, sympathetic eyes. Before nodding solemnly and closing the door on her way out.

Due to a strange urge, you peek through the blinds and wait to see him walk out your driveway. He does, dragging his feet. Much to your dismay, he stops suddenly and turns to face your window. You immediately step away in the darkness of your room, away from the light and Chenle’s eyes.

Three weeks pass, things at school remain the same for the most part. You hang out with Donghyuck like you used to. You try your best to not look over at the athletes table even when you feel Chenle’s eyes on you. However, somethings do change, you no longer spend your class time daydreaming about a certain blonde boy, or writing love letters on the back pages of your notebook about how pretty his eyes look when they catch the light. Instead, you stare out the window of your classrooms, wanting nothing more than to be in your room away from everyone once again. You sigh and look away from the window momentarily before looking up again. You startle as you see Chenle on the other side of the glass. Watching you with eyes that looked like they had a lot to say. You shudder when you take in the bag under his eyes and exhaustion written all over his face. You want to believe it’s because of you, you hope it is. You hope he can’t sleep at night thinking of you. Nevertheless, you remember what happened on Valentine’s Day and realize you were probably too insignificant to him to have caused him to be this way.

He softly smiles at you, bringing his hesitant hands up to wave at you, only for you to avert your eyes away from him and to the teacher at the front of the room.

Chenle looks down dejectedly before continuing his walk, meanwhile you sit at your desk, wanting to escape more than ever.

Three days later, your mother informs you that you have a visitor. “Tell him I don’t want to see him.”

“It’s not Chenle.” She says before confusedly adding: “He said his name is Jisung.”

Jisung? What the hell is he doing here? “I’ll be down in a minute.”

When you finally get down stairs Jisung smiles awkwardly at you before gesturing towards the door. “Do you like milkshakes?”

“What is this about?”

The words that say heavy on your tongue the whole car ride here finally leave you as you sit across Jisung at Billy’s. He sips his milkshake before clearing his throat to speak. “How have you been?”

You’ve been really shitty. “I’ve been fine, I guess.”

Jisung hums, rubbing his hand together before sighing. “I guess we should just get straight to the point, then.” He pauses, “Have you spoken to Chenle recently?”

While you figured this meeting had something with Chenle, you still sit up straighter when you hear his name. You clear your throat as if this is a kind of declaration. “No. I haven’t spoken to him since Valentine’s day.” You don’t want to ask about him, so you try the next best thing. “Why- why do you ask?”

“I haven’t seen him since last week.” Jisung says, something in your stomach doesn’t sit right. “He’s been missing practice, which he never did, and he’s not answering any of my messages or calls. And the pre-final game is tomorrow and no one has heard from him.”

His words are bazar. Basketball is unarguably the most important thing in Chenle’s life, why would he risk this chance of winning the championship like this? “He hasn’t spoken to me either, sorry.” You say, but your mind is fogged with worry as to where the boy could be. Jisung remains silent for some time before he clicks his tongue.

“I know what happened between you two.” You avoid his gaze and feel blood rush to your cheeks. “And I think you’re right for not talking to him after that.”

How could he say that about his best friend? Still, you nod. “But I think you only know a part of what’s really going on here.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, yeah. The whole thing started as a bet, but after a few weeks Chenle told me that something changed. He said he didn’t want to do the bet anymore, that he felt guilty for using you like that because he ended up really really liking you Y/N and I’m not just saying this because he is my best friend or anything but I think when the time is right, you should give him a chance.”

You finally look up at him and realize upon feeling a tear trail down your face that you were crying. You wipe it away quickly and sigh. “I don’t know, Jisung. He really hurt me, I was so embarrassed I felt like I could die.”

“Sometimes we make stupid decisions.” The ‘we’ reminds you of the story of Jisung and his girlfriend’s love story that Chenle animatedly told you about one night you stayed at his house. You remember wondering how someone as sweet as Jisung could do any of those things, and how his girlfriend could forgive him for any of it.However, you knew the love they had for each other in their hearts was more than the anger due to his actions. You wonder if the attachment you have for Chenle would ever be enough.

Jisung reads your mind. “I think he loves you.”

Your eyes become wide as planets before you scoff in disbelief. “Don’t say that.” You say, weak hearted.

“He does! While you two were still a thing he wouldn’t stop talking about how cute you were, how good you are at basketball and how you have the same glow in the dark stars on your ceiling that he does.”

What? You didn’t think cared enough to talk about you or to remember those details. “He told you that?”

Jisung nods, “And a lot of other things, but I don’t think we’ll have the time.”

“He… he never told me he loved me.” You thought Chenle had just come into your life as a lesson to always be on your guard, to never let anyone in and protect yourself above others. But now… you wonder if you meant more to Chenle than you thought.

“Take it from me,” Jisung says, “sometimes those 8 letters can be the hardest to say.”

🏀

Once you’ve parted ways with Jisung, (who offered to drive you home to which you politely declined to, telling him the walk home would give you time to think) you make your way home on your dirty sneakers and think about what Jisung said.

It’s hard to believe that Chenle would actually say those things about you, while knowing he was playing you. You wondered if it really did change for him like Jisung said, and if he really felt sorry like he was telling you that day in the parking lot.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t realize the familiar car parked in front of your house until you hear the voice your heart has been longing to hear for weeks now. “Is Y/N home?”

You bolt to the nearest bush and duck behind it, close enough to hear their words but far enough that Chenle and your conflicted mother are unaware of your presence. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetie she went out a few hours ago.”

“Oh.” You flinch when you hear the disappointment in his voice. “Can you tell her I stopped by?” And that I miss her, he wants to say but you don’t know that. “And please give this to her too if it’s not too much trouble.” You hear shuffling as Chenle hands whatever it is he wanted to give you to your mom.

“I will, sweetie.” Your mom says. “And Chenle?” There's a pause in which he hums. “Get some sleep, honey.”

You can imagine that Chenle throws her his signature polite smile, “I will try, Ma’am.”

It’s not longer after that you hear his sneakers against the steps of your porch and see him get into his car. You have a perfect view of him from where you are. Watching as he frustratedly runs his hands through his hair and throws his head back against the seat. You don’t know why you feel sorry for him. You know you should be angry but after what Jisung told you, you need to stop yourself from going to him.

You contemplate if even looking inside the bag is a decision.

It sits in front of you neatly on your bed where you had placed it after your mother handed it to you with a worried: “He looks so tired, Y/N.” Which caused hurt to arise in your heart.

The bag is a bright red one, the type that usually is full of candies and sweets, maybe flowers. You want to know what is inside manically, but you're afraid about what this would mean for your relationship (if you could even call it that) with Chenle. Is this his final goodbye or is this him trying to get you back?

You had to know.

Upon opening it, you are shocked to see a pale yellow envelope with your name written in Chenle’s messy handwriting on top. You grab it with shaky hands, the texture is different somehow, because for the first time ever, this letter was meant for you.

Inside, there is a loose leaf paper much like the ones you had sent to him neatly folded. Your heart beats in your ear as you finally see the first words, you breathe in deeply and read away.

“Y/N,

I thought for a long time about what I would say to you in this letter, I’ve been sitting on it for three weeks trying to find the right things to say that would convince you to forgive me before I realized that they all sounded tacky and cliche when I read them back. So, i’ve decided to just go with the truth. It’s true that at first I wasn't honest with you, that I only approached you to complete a dare my friends had given me that day and I won’t make any excuses because I was such a huge asshole to you. I was just so hurt that day because of Ava and I wanted to make her feel like shit so bad, I wanted to hurt her like she had hurt me and I used you to do so, Y/N. But after I approached you and started spending time with you,I started thinking back to all the times I would look at you when the sun came in through the window in the English classroom before I had even spoken a word to you. I bet you didn’t know I did that, did you?”

You didn’t, the you at that time would’ve freaked out if she knew though.

“I remember thinking you were so pretty, that you were untouchable to me so i just never tried. But something changed when i got to know you, i realized that you were the coolest person i’ve ever met, that you were real and that you were there with me whenever i needed someone. No one has ever made me feel so safe and comforted. I became selfish with you because I never wanted it to end. I didn’t want to tell you because i was scared you would hate me do you hate me? The night before valentines i went to your house because i planned on telling you everything the next day, i wanted to see your happy eyes just once more just in case i ruined everything. On Valentine’s day, when i got to school and read your letters. You wouldn’t believe how happy I was to read all the wonderful things you said about me. I was so happy that you held me as close to your heart as I held you to my own. I was going to tell you everything after that, i was going to confess and tell you that i couldn’t go another day with this secret. I was going to tell you how i felt but Ava stopped me, she told me she knew about the bet and then she kissed me and that's when you showed up. I’m so sorry you had to see that, I’m so that i used you like that. I’m sorry that I took advantage of you but I want you to know that I meant everything I told you, I loved spending time with you, and being with your family made me feel so special. I remember thinking we were split aparts and i know that sounds stupid but i really want you to know that i meant it. And every kiss we shared and every time I held you I felt it and I really really really mean it when i say that i loved you. I loved you so much that I didn't ever want to lose you.”

The past tense makes your chest tighten.

“I won’t tell you to forgive me, but your spot on the bleachers looks so empty without you. The pre finals are tomorrow and i would love it if you came, to cheer me on like you used to. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to but I wanted to give you something that would portray how serious I am about this. That if you are willing to come cheer me on with a part of me with you.”

This when you reach into the bag and pull out the item that once laid underneath your letter. The 22 of Chenle’s basketball jersey stares back at you, you gasp as you hold the fabric in your fingers. You had watched him run around the court with this very jersey plenty times before, you knew how much being number 22 meant to him. You were grateful he would trust you so important to him, you really wanted to grab his face and tell him that. Instead, you finish reading the letter.

“You make me feel brave. And I will forever be sorry for what I did to you, but I mean it when I say I loved you I still love you.

Please come. - Zhong Chenle.”

He loves you! Present tense. You could almost jump from joy. You want to see him, tell him you love him too. A million times if you can. You want to say that you forgive him for everything, that you have felt incomplete without him these past few weeks and the Chenle you made up in your mind was too perfect anyway.

Chenle sighs for the upteenth time the next afternoon as he stretches along with his teammates. He tries his best to take his mind off of you for the time being, at least until after the game is over, he needed to focus but he found it very hard when he began to wonder what was going through your head when you read his letter, and if you were coming today.

He startles when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Hopeful, he turns. His hopefulness fades away when he sees Jisung standing before him.

“Damn don’t look too sad to see me.” He jokes. Chenle shakes his head

“It’s not that…” Chenle explains, biting his lip nervously and subconsciously looks toward the bleakers where your empty seat was. Jisung gets the hint.

“Chenle,” he says. “It's okay, she’ll come.”

Chenle wants to ask him how he is so sure, that if he were you, he would hate himself too. Instead, he nods at him and readjusts the waistband of his shorts on his hips as the coach calls for the team to step out onto the court.

People immediately start cheering for the players as they come into the view, girls go crazy in the stands and the members’ friends and families cheere enthusiastically from the side lines. The players smile and wave at their ‘fans’ doing a lap around the court to warm up and high five audience members.

Chenle can only bring himself to smile half heartedly and wave weakly due to the fact that your spot on the bleachers still remains empty.

He sighs out again, puffing his cheeks as the referee finally calls for the first round. That’s when his adrenaline starts pumping and he feels a bit better.

The game goes on.

Chenle’s jersey is only a bit big on you, almost fitting like something that would be your size, still, you try to pull it down over your hips in a nervous habit. You finally made it to the game, having fun late due to traffic. The spot you usually sit in is occupied by a woman holding a baby, so you decide to stay and watch from the sidelines, standing.

The first time you see him, he is running across the court so fast he becomes a blur. You only know it’s him because of the head of blonde hair you see in the blurry image. He looks breathtaking as always, his hair being pushed away from his face by a sweat band being an addition to his look you wouldn’t mind seeing again.

His sneakers squeak against the floor as he gets in position to shoot. You cross your fingers, but something is off. His eyebrows are furrowed in something that doesn’t look like concentration, but more like worry. His legs give him the impulse to jump up and soon enough his arms are shooting the ball towards the basket. You watch in disappointment as it hits against the rim and bounces back at him, he catches it with a frustrated click of his teeth.

The audience has already begun whispering, having never seen the star player miss a shot.

One of his teammates comes up to give him a fist bump of comfort, Chenle accepts it but still holds a troubled look on his face. The thought crosses your mind that it might be because of you, it troubles the organ in your chest as much as it warms it. You notice he keeps glancing at a certain part of the bleachers, this is when you know he meant everything and that he surely is waiting for you.

“Chenle!” You yell, trying to get his attention.

The boy doesn’t look your way, your voice getting lost in constant shouts and chatter from the people in the crowd. You try again, louder this time. Nothing.

You groan frustratedly, the boy continues the game the best he can, but he’s out of it. You hate to see him like this, a deep hurt in your chest rising up. You cheer for him as loud as you can, deciding it would be better to wait until after the game to see him.

As the game is coming to an end, Chenle appears to grow more and more tired and absent. Nevertheless, his team scores the winning point and the audience goes wild, including you. Chenle smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You can’t wait to hold him and tell him you forgive him for everything and that everything is going to be okay, and be with him for real this time. To have him be yours and be best friends against, go on nightly drives and have impromptu dance parties, to lay on his bed and count the plastic stars on his ceiling, to kiss him and be close to him.

And for it to be real.

🏀

Chenle can’t help but feel dejected when your seat was never taken by you. He should’ve known this would happen, that is true but there was a fraction of him that thought you would read his letter and realize how sincere he was, he thought there was a part of you that knew it had been real and there was no way everything he said could've been made up. But he was wrong, and now as he packs his gym bag to go home, he faces the consequences of his high hopes.

He’s mad, practically throwing his belongings in his bag, he almost throws his phone in the trash can next to him when he hears the ringtone go off. Chenle answers it with an irritated, “What?”

“Hey.” He recognizes your voice that same instant, still he pulls his phone back and makes sure its your caller ID before speaking again.

“Y/N? Oh my god, hi!” He clears his throat before repeating himself. “I mean, hi, hey.”

You hold back a laugh, noting his nervousness. “I’m sorry for calling so suddenly.” You decide to tease him, although, unbeknownst to him, you wear standing about 20 feet behind him after finally finding him in the now that the crowd of people has dispersed after the game.

“No, don’t worry about it. I was actually…” Chenle flicks the zipper of his bag with his nervous fingers, “I was waiting to hear from you.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, I wanted a chance to talk things out with you and uhh… i'm sorry if me asking you to come out to the game was too much or if it made you uncomfortable I didn’t-“

“Chenle.” Your voice cuts his rant short. You internally marvel at the fact that you aren’t the one caught in a nervous ramble for once. “It didn’t make me uncomfortable. I’m here.”

“You’re here?” Someone clicks in his mind as he frantically looks around him in an effort to find you. When he does, his eyes turn soft and a smile takes over his face. “You came.”

You nod at him, feeling a bit overwhelmed when you finally make eye contact with him. There are people between you too, Chenle begins to close it as he walks forward. “I did. I just wanted to tell you that I missed you.”

“I missed you more, I swear on it.” He replies.

Your eyes burn, you wipe them and lighten the mood. “And that Curry would be sad to see you so out of it at a game.” You click your teeth jokingly. “What do you think he would say if he saw you like that cause of a girl?”

He laughs, “I think he would understand, after I tell him how amazing you are.”

You blush. “I also wanted to tell you that your jersey smells like you, and I like it.” This makes him beam, speeding up his footsteps that carry him to you.

“Is that it?” He asks, jokingly.

“And that I love you, Zhong Chenle. Not the Zhong Chenle that I had a crush on for 3 years and not Number 22 but you. The rawest versions of you. I love all of it and that i forgive you for everything.” He slows his pace in shock, his chest heaving.

“You mean that?” His voice is wavering and you can see the flush on his cheeks from how close he has gotten. Suddenly, he is taking big steps until he is directly in front of you. He puts his phone down and his pretty eyes look directly into your own.

Chenle’s face is hopeful, happy and lovestruck. He whispers: “You love me?”

You can only nod, overwhelmed. Chenle smiles wide, you can almost see his molars and his eyes disappear. “Say it.” He says, in a wondrous tone.

“I love you, Zhong Chenle.”

“Oh my god, yes!”

And he’s kissing you, arms wrapping around you and pressing your body against his, his finger grip at the jersey on your body and he moves his lips against yours. Every memory that you have ever shared, every kiss, every touch, and every laughing fit come to your mind. It’s all you can think about as you think about this boy. You don’t think about the bad part, because that doesn’t matter anymore now that Chenle is yours and you are never letting go.

4 months later; Graduation

“Chenle! Come on!” Jisung yells as he sees the boys floppy newly dyed orange hair amongst the crowd of people.

You were all posed for a picture, blue cap and gowns adorning your bodies and your parents huddle you together for a picture. “I’m coming!”

Your boyfriend appears from the crowd with his cap in his hand along with a giant bouquet of flowers. He walks directly to you, extending it with a smile. “For you.”

Your friends start squealing, playful hitting you and Chenle and your parents smirk at each other at the portrayal of young love before them. You cover your face with your hands to hide your blush. Chenle laughs and hugs you to his side.

“Y/N! Chenle! Pose for the picture!”

The two of you run to where your other friends are posing, haphazardly getting into the frame and posing crazily.

The air is full of laughter and youth as the sun begins to set on your time in high school. For a moment, you’re too busy basking in the presence of the relationships you have developed while in there that you forget you won’t be seeing these people every day like you had been for so many years. Or that your lives might take completely different courses and things won’t be the same after this. Instead you allow yourself to enjoy this moment.

🏀

You do think about it when you are on your way home though, in the passenger’s seat of Chenle’s car. His hand holds yours over the gear and he smiles to himself while humming along to the songs on the radio, unaware of the internal conflict going on in your head.

It wasn’t until he parks outside your house that he realizes that something is wrong.

“What is going to happen to us now?” Is your reply to his questioning. Chenle’s eyebrows furrow.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean-“ you collect your thoughts, “high school is over, and we’re going to go to college and we will be so busy and what if-“

“Whatever you think will happen, won’t happen.”

You look at him, offended that he could dismiss your worries so easily. “You don’t un-“

“I do understand. You’re worried that now that we won’t see each other every day that we’re going to drift apart, right? And that we won’t be together, am I right?”

You nod silently.

“Y/N, how many times am I going to tell you that I’m crazy in love with you? I won’t let you slip out of my hands, baby. Not again.” Chenle says firmly, sincerely. His eyes widen so you can see right through him and know he is telling the truth.

His pale hands come up to cup the sides of your face, making you face him. Your tear filled eyes meet his own. He brushes away your tear that rolls down your cheek. “I’m sorry, I was just overthinking.” You say.

“Don’t be sorry.” Chenle shakes his head, leaning forward to kiss your cheek lovingly, letting it linger for a few seconds before pulling back. Smiling upon seeing your smiling face.

It happens in a flash, now that the moment was right. Chenle gasps, starling you. “What?! What’s wrong?!”

“I love this song!” And he’s turning it up all the way on the car radio, rolling down the windows and stepping out. “Come on, Y/N!”

You don’t let him see the pure happiness on your face that you wanted to mask with annoyance. Chenle dances on the sidewalk crazily and you laugh in the passenger’s seat. You decide it was best to not let your boyfriend embarrass himself alone, wiping the excess of your tears and step out of the car. “M’lady has arrived to the dance party!” He exclaims.

And as you start dancing wildly together, the sun begins to set causing a golden hue to fall over your features. Anyone watching the scene could either think that you’re crazy or they will see what is really there: split aparts that have finally found one another.

Chenle thinks so too, he stops dancing for a bit to catch his breath and just watches you. He remembers the pain it took to make you his, how much you both cried and the beginning of the relationship was far from ideal. But there is no doubt in his mind that there are not enough glow in the dark ceiling stars in this world that will amount to the love he harbors for you in his chest. He was so happy that he had met his split apart, he couldn’t thank the universe enough.

This when he reaches forward and spins you around to face him. His chest against your own, you feel the rumble of his words from his chest when he says: “I’m so glad I found you.” And then he is kissing you, and the ground seems to melt away from your feet. You’re floating hundreds of feet in air and forget to take a view of your neighborhood from up here because Chenle is all you can think about. Because he makes you feel this way. You whisper in between kisses, he smiles knowingly, he feels it too.

“We.

Are.

Off.

Our.

Feet.”

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remmushound · 4 years ago

Text

Curse of the Clan part 57! @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

Content warning! Injury, cauterization, burns, minor blood

The floor under April’s feet sloped as the press of Krang’s button. The angle became so sharp that April couldn’t resist it and started to slide toward the back of the mech. Her feet fell off the edge, but she managed to cling on just barely by locking her fingers into the curve of the wall. Her muscles ached after hardly any time at all, climbing on tight enough to pale her knuckles. Her muscles worked and they burned, but they held on for a long minute.

Krang’s face split in a cruel grin. “Bye bye!”

April could hold on no longer. She fell, the darkness swallowing her entirely.

***

Bishop moved like a whip around the enclosed space, alluding attacks and capture with all the determined agility of a slippery eel. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Bishop was trying to do as he weaved between the family, knocking them apart with powerful swipes of his tails. They were more vulnerable when they were alone, so they couldn’t be forced apart. Bishop lunged once more, dividing Leonardo from Donatello before turning his attention toward Michelangelo. The box turtle had a tight grip on his chain weapon, spinning it around and around while his ruby eyes kept track of Bishop’s every move.

“What’s the plan?” Michelangelo asked, yelping as he had to sidestep to avoid a vicious strike.

“I was kinda relying on my portals working.” Leonardo admitted, much to the dismay of his family. He moved back in closer to Donatello, both of them falling flat to avoid another pounce.

“You can’t run forever.” Bishop hissed; the demeanor of the snake had changed completely from a suave agent to a beast frustrated he couldn’t land a hit.

“He’s right.” Leonardo said, grabbing Donatello by his mask tails to yank him so they could join Michelangelo. “We gotta find a new way up!”

Bishop had them cornered now, his body swaying from side to side as he sized them up with hungry eyes. Leonardo’s eyes darted around to look for some escape, and the opportunity came in the form of Splinter throwing his full weight against the snake and making Bishop’s attack falter. Splinter was more pin cushion than rat, his fur spiked up and standing on end while his teeth and claws flashing a sharp threat. His fangs sank into where Bishop’s shoulders would have been if he had arms, his claws finding purchase and tearing anywhere they could.

Bishop retaliated by latching onto Splinter’s neck, fangs sinking into the soft flesh and the muscular body immediately wrapping around Splinter, starting to squeeze

“DAD!”

Michelangelo was the first to separate from the safety of the group, his face distorting in fury as he swung his weapon to wrap the chain around Bishop’s neck and tighten it, using the secured weapon to swing himself onto Bishop like a jockey taming a wild bronco. Bishop gave a growl of displeasure that, to the horror of the onlookers, quickly turned to cries of pure agony as his flesh started to sizzle and pop wherever Michelangelo touched him. The pain overwhelming, Bishop let go of Splinter and Leonardo was there to catch the rat, immediately assessing the punctures while Donatello stood back to witness the fury of Michelangelo.

“Get— off of— me—“ Any sense of dignity Bishop may have had were burned away with Michelangelo’s frenzied, furious strikes; his hands had erupted into a blaze that, while they scorched and seared Bishop wherever they struck, didn't seem to hurt Michelangelo in the slightest.

“NO!”

Bishop reared up to slam Michelangelo against the wall, crushing the turtle with his weight, but Michelangelo hung on tight.

Donatello looked up but he didn't know why. He eyed the wires that were above them, and he witnessed them moving and tying around each other like they were alive. On the end of each long tendril were tiny suction grabbers that looked, quite frankly, sticky.

Donatello was being grabbed. Grabbed and snared and squeezed by the wires as they secured a grip on him, yanking him upward. They dug into his flesh but it didn't hurt; each touch of the wires were like ten hands supporting him, sending pulses through the muscles that made them relax so that the wires could do their job. The wires were good, and they were reaching down at them, trying to grab the mutants in their suction grip.

Bishop had finally managed to toss Michelangelo off, but not without suffering significant damage to his scales and to one of his eyes.

“I’m a firebender!” Michelangelo declared, laughing maniacally as he looked down at his flaming hands.

“You’re a pyromaniac.” Donatello breathed, hardly in control of his own words.

Bishop pulled his lips back as he spat his fury; some of him seemed to be peeling, like dead skin after a sunburn healed, showing nothing but red, inflamed flesh beneath. There was no blood, the heat of Michelangelo’s touch having been enough to cauterize the wound. Cauterize. That was it—that was what Leonardo needed! Splinter’s wound was bleeding badly, but Leonardo knew it wasn’t an artery bleed. The flow and position of the strike wouldn’t have resulted in that, and it seemed to be mostly tissue that Bishop had pierced. The bleeding needed to be stopped, even if they would have to deal with a burn later.

“Mike, I need you over here.” Michelangelo was at Leonardo’s side the moment he was called, kneeling beside Splinter and staring in horror at the blood staining his skin red.

“What can I do?”

“I need you to press your hands to dad’s neck and seal off the wound okay— can you do that?”

Michelangelo nodded numbly and did as Leonardo asking, wincing as he felt his fathers flesh and fur burn under his touch. The smell was indescribable. He pulled his hands back quickly and looked up to Leonardo, hoping that had been enough.

“Good— the bleeding stopped.” Leonardo let himself breathe

“Guys.” Donatello’s voice felt painfully dry as he spoke, and then pointed skyward to the wires. “We should go up.”

Leonardo followed his brother’s finger and spotted the wires reaching out for them. Then he looked back down and seen Bishop making rapid advancement toward them, each movement awkward with the pain of his body, and Leonardo felt he didn't have much else of a choice. He grabbed Splinter and heaved the unconscious rat over his shoulder as he and his brothers started their upward ascent toward the wires reaching out to them.

~~~

April landed feet-first in a deep pool of chilling water that sucked the breath right out of her. She kicked out her feet from pure instinct and resurfaced as quickly as her frost-swallowed body would allow her, padding toward what she could only assume to be the shore. When she felt her feet sweep against metal at the bottom, she was greatly relieved, and she followed the upward slope until she was able to collapse onto solid ground.

“Oh, ground, sweet ground.” She kissed the floor and then immediately regretted it when she got a mouthful of bitter cold. “Ah… S-Sunita!”

“In here…” The yokai’s voice carried, and it was the only thing April had to guide her in this dark place.

She held her hands out in front of her, feeling her way through the open, pitch room until her hands touched a wall. She used the wall as her guide, leading her to an open doorway, and only when she had gotten a few good feet inside did she spy a faint green glow.

“Sunita!”

April ran when the light was bright enough to let her, practially sprinting right into the slime yokai. She sank slightly into Sunita’s form, quickly pulling away with a disgusted grunt and tried to shake the goo off of her. The slime naturally left to return to their host, but Sunita didn't seem to care either way. The yokai had hardly reacted to the impact! Something else had caught her full attention, and pretty soon it had April’s too.

“Woah…”

Both girls found themselves standing before a giant glass chamber, and in the chamber was a great amount of green that April could almost mistake for mutagen! Then she realized it was too vibrant, too fluid! Mutagen was thick and dark and clumpy, but this was almost like water! She knew exactly what this stuff was.

“Empyrean…”

#Bishop attacks #mikeys power revealed!#a shocking discovery #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Text

Afraid To Shoot Strangers.

Eric Coulter x reader

Warnings: gun violence, mention of injury,

Context: During a game of capture the flag, the reader notices someone trying to go a different way, and follows them.

A/N: this is my first time writing Eric, so I'm sorry if it sucks. I recently rewatched Divergent and now I'm in the mood to write some Eric fics😅😅

Masterlist.

My heart races wildly in my chest as I duck down behind the container again, a bullet flying over my head with a quiet noise, the preceding gunshot quieter due to the nature of the gun it was fired from. In my hands, the dart rifle feels uncomfortably lightweight and wrong, the trigger too loose under my index finger as it experimentally grazes over it. All around me, I can hear the other initiates calling to each other, firing at each other as they lead on the offense, quickly locating and eliminating the defence of the opposition, screams and cries of pain mingling with the quiet feedback from the weapons in our hands signalling the impacts of the neuro-stim darts we've been given as ammo. As of yet, my clip is completely full.

Somewhere behind me, a quick shout announces the arrival of more of our team mates, though my attention isn't drawn to this, it's drawn to the dark figure ducking out of the range to the east, their silhouette briefly illuminated as they drop down over the wall surrounding the area, clearly trying to get somewhere safely. Hope momentarily flares to life within me as I recognise my chance to prove myself capable, knowing that taking out the runner will give us an advantage if I do it quietly enough.

Scanning the area, I take a deep breath, adjusting the gun in my hands as I map out my route, eyeing each part of it sharply so as not to miss any hidden attackers. Finding none, I lunge forwards, feet pumping underneath me as I aim for the closest container, skidding to a halt behind it, having avoided the instant volley of gunshots that accompanied my break, the exposed knuckles on my hands scraping painfully as I use my fists to stop myself from falling over. Hastily, I scramble to my feet and focus on my next target, racing over to it again as soon as I deem it safe enough to leave the cover, yelps escaping me as the darts pelt the ground behind me, each initiate aiming just a little off-target, thankfully.

This repeats three or four times until there's only one stop left between me and the wall. I quickly gauge it and make a break for it, breathing hard as I doggedly sprint to my next destination, choosing to go straight to the wall instead of stopping, throwing myself over it without realising how far the drop is.

The impact jars me as I land roughly, my shoulder exploding in pain as I roll into my side, groaning before I heave myself up, finding myself incapable of using the corresponding arm, the gun hanging uselessly on the strap around my shoulders. Gritting my teeth, I force myself to limp into a covered area, the nearest place being a rundown carousel, trying to flex the fingers of my hand, only to find that I physically can't move them, the digits not responding to anything I try, agony shooting through them as I manually bend them with my other hand. Forcing back a sob, I take the gun in my other hand and hope that my aim is good enough, hobbling back out again, following the footprints left in the gravel covering the pathway, the shapes hard to make out in the darkness, but visible nevertheless, ignoring the pain in my arm as I go.

An odd feeling sets in as I move, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as I become aware of something, my muscles instinctually tightening in preparation to move, my finger moving to the trigger of the gun, though I am basically unable to lift the weapon to my shoulder. Making it a few more metres, I notice that the footsteps veer off to the right, only to stop when they reach an old ticket booth hut, the structure signifying the end of the trail as I realise I'll struggle to track them in this light with no footprints to go by. Sighing in resignation, I go over to it, placing a hand on the wall to feel for any traces of dirt that may have come off their shoe when they climbed up, a curse leaving me as my hand comes back clean.

The air suddenly leaves me as my body is violently pressed into the wall, another torso behind mine pinning me in place, the gun now useless as my arm protests in pain, a squeak erupting from my mouth when their hand clamps over it, the other holding the gun to my back. Breathing hard, I tense up, panicking and in fear, knowing now that I made a stupid mistake by turning my back as they lean in to snap something in my ear.

"You ought to be more careful, initiate."

My heart drops at the tone. It belongs to no less than Eric Coulter, the stern, intimidating Dauntless leader in charge of taking us through our initiation. Everyone is terrified of him, and now he's pinning me to a wall, his breath fanning over my neck as he leans in.

"You should never turn your back to an open space." He growls lowly, pressing me harder into the wall, his gun digging harshly into the flesh of my lower back.

It's all I can do not to moan in pain, my arm smarting as he applies more and more pressure to it.

"It was a mistake..." I mumble, trying to wrestle my other arm out from between us, only to change tact when he shoves a leg between mine, effectively pinning me.

"What was that? You wanna say that again?" The leader practically spits in my ear, his tone venomous.

"I said it was a mistake!" I say louder, my face flushing in embarrassment as he laughs dryly.

"Yeah, no shit." Eric bites out, clearly gloating at the position I'm in, "Why're you down here anyway, Stiff? Afraid to shoot strangers?"

Biting my lip, I just keep wrestling the gun in my hands upwards, knowing I'll only have one shot at getting this right, the angle basically invisible to me as I finally manage to slide it into place. Thanking my previous intuition to at least cock it, I place my finger over the trigger and pull it.

A sharp grunt of pain makes him buckle, his grip loosening on me enough so that I can drive my good elbow back into his abdomen, effectively knocking him to the floor as he grabs at his thigh, pulling at the dart sticking out of the muscular limb. Swiftly, I turn around and aim the gun at him again, pointing it directly over his chest and shooting him again, eliminating him as I wince from the agony racing through my shoulder.

"Ah...didn't know...you had it in you...initiate..." Eric grits out, voice strained from the simulated gunshot wounds.

"Neither did I." I murmur to myself, looking up when I hear a sudden uproar of cheers from the roof we were initially on, most likely signalling the end of the game. A collective shout of one name gives away exactly who won: it was our team.

Hesitantly, I allow a small smile to grace my features, the leader at my feet cursing and blaspheming colourfully as he pulls the darts out and climbs to his feet, shooting me a dirty look before walking off, his gun held in one hand as he leaves me in the darkness.

Watching him, I cast one last look up at the roof before I follow him, going to where I know the train is waiting to take us back to the faction compound, wondering to myself how the hell I'll manage to pull myself onto it.

#eric coulter #divergent #Eric coulter divergent #Eric coulter x reader #Eric (divergent) x reader

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 4 years ago

Text

The Dark Team (part 14)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx )

Huge warning: explicit abduction/kidnapping. Violence, blood, torture (non-explicit).

It didn’t take you long to realize the blood in your body was not yours.

Where were you? Your head was dripping something cold. It wasn’t blood, but it was thicker than water. A putrid smell didn’t let you breathe properly, and… what were you sitting on? Something cold. A metal chair. Thin. If you moved, you’d fall. If you fell you couldn’t put your hands up to save your face; tied up head to toes.

With covered eyes, all you could do was to listen. Trying not to panic, you checked all and any noises that surrounded you. The room was tiny and closed. Away from the city noises, so maybe many floors up. You were alone. People walked around the room; there was a corridor, but nobody seemed to care you were in there even though they clearly knew it. You heard several footsteps approaching the room, standing on the door and then leaving again, muttering things to each other. How did you get there? Where were Loki and Peter? Oh God, if Peter got kidnapped too...

Moving your head around and shaking it fiercely, you finally managed to take the tape off your eyes. The incandescent lights blinded you, hinting you that you were there for longer than you had initially thought. They took off your wrist watch; where your first location device was. That way Tony couldn’t track you down. They didn’t take off the earbuds, though, and you chuckled to yourself. You had them designed especially for these kind of extreme situations. The chuckle quickly faded away.

You looked around now that your sight was restored, and made sure nobody was around. Cameras… yes, four of them. Probably a bunch of microphones, but how would you know. Whatever. It wasn't like you had any other choice. You activated your earbud with your shoulder, trying to connect with the Stark Tower.

“Hello?”, you whispered. Your voice cracked, and you weren’t sure if it was the terror of getting caught, or because of the long period of time you were silent. “Hey? Is anyone…?”.

“Good evening, Mx. y/n”, called Friday’s voice. Alright. It was an evening. Bad way to start, because the last thing you remember was at that Saturday night. “Your heart rate is increasingly high, are you having an anxious epis…?”.

“Listen, Friday”, you cut her quickly, trying to keep it down. “Is anyone in the Tower? Mr. Stark? Anyone?”.

“The only one currently entering the building is Dr. Bruce Banner. Would you like me to put him…?”.

“Yes, fast”. God, Friday was painfully slow, and you were starting to freak out. “In the meantime, try to tell me everything you can about where I am. Can you trace my location down?”.

“Unfortunately, your second location device is damaged, and the first one is impossible to track”.

“What can you tell me?”. Where on Earth was Banner and why was he taking so long?

“It is Thursday afternoon, currently the day is rainy with a precipitation of…”.

Friday kept talking, but your brain wasn’t able to keep up with her uselessness and the crippling fear of not being able to get out of this one alive. As far as you knew, nobody was here to save you.

“Hello?”, called Bruce’s voice from the other line, interrupting Friday. “Who’s this?”.

“Thank God. Bruce, it’s me, y/n. Listen, I…”, and as you were about to explain, you heard his gasp.

“Oh my God, y/n! I’m calling everyone. No, wait. Where the Hell have you been?? Where are you? Are you safe??”, his voice was many pitches higher than the usual. Why was he so freaked out? You haven’t said anything yet.

Wait.

Did Friday say Thursday?

“Bruce, I have no idea where I am, I just woke up and I’m tied up. You have to help me. Where’s Tony?”.

“He’s out there looking for you; so is the rest of the team. I have to let them know you’re calling”.

“WAIT”, you shaked. He stopped and waited in silence. “I’m not sure how long I actually have in here. Help me first, alert them later”.

“Alright. I can’t trace you. Have any plan in mind?”.

“I…” you looked around. “I can tell you… agh”, you gasped, and he jumped again, asking you a thousand questions at a time. “Banner, I’m frightened, you’ll have to calm down because otherwise I will have a fucking heart attack”.

“I’m sorry. Answer one question at a time. Are you hurt?”.

“I’m not sure”.

“What do you mean?”.

“I’m covered in blood”.

“Then you are hurt”.

“I don’t think it’s mine”.

“What?”.

“Let me guide you through what you have to do to actually trace my location. There’s a method, I…”, you started saying, but you soon ran out of breath. You explained with little detail what he had to do, and everything was becoming dizzier and blurrier. “I think I have a contusion”.

“You… you think?!”.

“Shh, don’t scream. My head hurts”.

“You’ll pass out. Quick, tell me all you can before you do so. We’ll get you out of there. Do you see movement?”.

“Just outside the room. Men in suits, prisoners tied up from behind, cops…”.

“Anything inside the room? What’s the place like?”.

“Nobody’s in here, other than me. Seems like a… an interrogation room. But old fashioned. There isn't any windows and there’s not many other objects other than the chair I’m in”.

“Is anything behind you?”.

“Yes. There’s… I’m not sure what that is. Looks like some sort of teaser, but bigger. And has a line of buttons with a beeper in the holder. And…”.

“That’s… oh crap”.

“What?”.

“We have to get you out of there. Do you have any marks in your neck?”.

“Marks...? I don’t…”, but as you were about to deny it, you touched your neck and it burned, badly. It burned both your neck, your hand and your head. You screamed in pain.

“You have a sensor with electroshocks. It alerts them you’re awake. You have little time to speak with me now, before they get in. Try to play unconscious as they get in, alright? It’s gonna be okay”.

But it didn’t feel like it was gonna be okay at all. I’m getting killed in here, aren’t I?, you thought, sighing. And Bruce was right. Footsteps approached your room, louder with each step. The empty corridors made the shoes echoe all the way up to your doom.

“Bruce, I don’t even have what they want. I… wait, you said the whole team. Are Peter and Loki too? Are they safe?”.

“Yes, they’re safe and looking for you”.

“Are they looking for Bucky? He was kidnapped too”.

“What? Bucky’s always been with Steve on the other mission”.

“What? No, they lost him and then he got abducted and was being tortu…”.

“No, listen. Those were old Hydra recordings. It was all a trap for you to fall in. We don’t have much time, we’ll explain everything once you’re safe in the compound”.

“What if I never get out?”.

“Do as I say, you’ll be alright”.

“I hear them coming closer”.

“Play unconscious, I’ll track them down with their voice pitches and will figure out where they work. Stay silent. Don’t move”.

You did as he said, and closed your eyes, dropping your head as if you were still sleeping. Three people walked in. You figured at least one of them was holding the big teaser, because behind you something buzzed and your neck hurt again.

“Must’ve passed out again. Check out they’s not making it up”.

One of the men stomped on your foot so harshly, your eyes watered. But you didn’t move half an inch. Not a single sound escaped your throat. Not a single muscle moved your body.

“Should we wake them up and try with another session?”.

“Won’t say anything in this state”.

“Maybe we can crack them, because of this state”.

One of the men grabbed your hair and pulled up your head violently. Your eyes opened reluctantly and you flinched.

“How long have you been awake?”.

You didn’t answer.

“What have you heard?”.

You didn’t answer.

“What do you remember?.

You didn’t answer. One of the men sighed.

“It won’t work. We’ve been trying the same thing for too long. Maybe we need to high up on the voltage and go from there”.

“We don’t want them dead, they have to talk first”.

You started shaking uncontrollably. You had to stop yourself from sobbing. Banner whispered something but you couldn’t hear it. Your ears were filled with that high pitched tone that would usually mean you’ve been shouted at. But you weren’t. It was all too silent to be true. Violence would not always come in a loud way, would it?

“Alright, wipe them again, just in case. Delete this day too. We’re going big tomorrow morning”.

#I know this all isn't making any sense but I swear it will soon #I am in fact a very few chapters away from finishing it #just wait #I know it looks like there's too many plots going around and they don't cross #but they cross #sort of #I'm a crappy writer alright?#not putting loki or bucky in the tags of this one because there isn't any #not putting the triggers either because no #so i dont know what else to put #I'm gay by the way

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harrin-king · 4 years ago

Note

just a lil dialogue idea: “...did you just sniff me?”

good luck with school :-)

“Not to sound, I don’t know, ungrateful for the redemption you’re providing me with here, but do you all have to stick your noses into everything? Because I think your whole little group needs a new hobby.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “You think this is redemption? That’s an interesting take. I’d call it charity, maybe,” he says, ignoring the rest of Billy’s comment.

Billy follows his lead and ignores him too. “Like, you guys could start a knitting circle, I’m sure ol’ Joyce would enjoy that. Oh! A Bridge Club. What do you think, Harrington? Think that would occupy you enough to stop willingly tracking down monsters with nothing but a fucking baseball bat?”

Billy has been out of the hospital for three months. He’s been adopted by Joyce Byers for two, and has been patrolling the woods for monsters with Harrington for one.

None of it was really his choice, but neither was the possession back in July, and he finds this to be something much more tolerable to have thrust upon him.

Steve gives a small smile, taking quick crunching steps through the dark forest. “Aw, don’t hurt my feelings, Hargrove. I might start thinking you don’t want to hang out with me.”

Billy scowls, but he can feel it lacking its usual venom. Somehow, the events of the summer have made him someone worth saving, worth helping, worth befriending, instead of someone to be feared.

No, the Mind Flayer taking over his brain and making him commit atrocities only encouraged Harrington and his whole flock of a family to put an axe in his hand and make him help to make sure it never happened again. Go figure.

“I don’t want to hang out with you,” he grumbles, though it isn’t entirely true. What he doesn’t want is to be going after the very thing that almost killed him. The Harrington aspect is the only part that makes it less terrifying, makes his heart beat too fast for reasons far away from fear.

“Fine then,” Steve says, but he sounds bemused more than angry. “Stay back next time and hang out with the kids. You can play Dungeons and Dragons with them, I’m sure that’d be fun for you.” A wide grin overtakes his face. “There’s your alternate hobby. Sorry it’s not quite as exciting as- what was it? A knitting circle?”

Billy fights to keep the frown on his face, but it’s hard not to be intoxicated by Harrington’s humor, his ability to be light and brave, even when doing something as frightening (and fucking stupid) as combing the woods for monsters. “If I did that, I couldn’t hold a real axe, I’d have to have a fucking imaginary one and speaking of which: don’t you think you should stop antagonizing the person with a weapon walking behind you-”

Steve turns his head back towards Billy with his fingers to his lips, makes a Shhh sound.

“Don’t you shush-”

“Shut up, Billy, Jesus,” Steve says, and all of the humor and goodness from his voice a few moments earlier is gone.

It’s then that Billy notices the rustling sound, and the low growl emitting from a handful of yards away, its source hidden behind some brush.

Panic shoots through him. In his mind there’s only him, being dragged down into the basement of that steel mill; him killing Heather, him killing Mrs. Driscol, him killing a third of Hawkins, all because of that thing, that thing that took him and is now only a minute or two away from doing it again.

A hand clamps around his wrist and he has to keep from screaming. But when he opens his eyes to face death a second time, it’s just Harrington, tugging him away. “Come on, Bill. Just-”

Steve drags him by his arm all the way to a tree to their left. A generous piece of its trunk is hollowed out and Steve stuffs the both of them inside. “Just stay quiet. It’ll come out of the bushes in a second and we’ll see what it is.”

But Billy doesn’t want to see what it is. He wants to be sitting at the kitchen table with Joyce, drinking tea at two in the morning when neither of them can sleep. He wants to be driving Max home from the arcade and pretending to hate the music she chooses. He wants anything but this.

The panic is almost blinding. In therapy- another thing he does involuntarily, but can’t deny the benefits of -Dr. Owens is always trying to give him ways to calm down from anxiety attacks, claiming every new skill is a “tool for his recovery toolbox” or something like that.

And it’s dumb. But Billy hates feeling like this.

Five things you can see.

Alright. Stupid hollow tree. Steve. Roots and grass under his shoes. His own hand. Some stars up in the sky.

Four things you can touch.

Usually he’d reach out and actually touch the things he listed, but most of what is in reaching distance is Steve or on Steve’s person, so he refrains. Still, he finds things that he could touch.

Tree bark. Steve’s hair. Steve’s shirt. Steve’s jeans.

Billy’s breathing is still uneven, the world still feels like it’s going to cave in. He keeps trying.

Three things you can hear.

Steve’s breathing. An owl hooting, distantly. That damn monster still rustling in those bushes, refusing to just reveal itself and put him out of his misery.

Two things you can smell.

The sappy, woody scent of the tree. And Steve, but Steve smells like a lot of things. Like hairspray and like cigarettes and like denim and sweat and expensive cologne.

A bit of calm finally begins to settle on Billy. He takes another deep breath, breathing in Harrington. It’s comforting.

He takes another.

“Um.” He hears Harrington clear his throat. “Did you just sniff me?”

Billy opens his eyes. Unconsciously, his face has moved closer to Steve, his nose a mere inch away from Steve’s shoulder. Billy jerks back.

“Jesus. Sorry. Just trying to uh. Ground myself.” He pinches his wrist for how fucking stupid that sounds.

Suddenly the rustling stops, but then it gets louder as, to Billy’s horror, the creature starts making its way out of the brush, the sound of it getting closer.

Billy tenses, painfully glad that Steve is there with his bat and it won’t be Billy who has to be brave tonight.

A head pokes out from between the trees and Steve’s body relaxes. Billy squints his eyes to look.

A mountain lion.

Steve gives a sharp, involuntarily cackle and then looks directly at Billy.

Billy looks back and then they’re both laughing impossibly hard, all of the coiled up energy in their veins escaping through loud guffaws in the otherwise silent forest.

Steve’s head lands on Billy’s shoulders as they continue to laugh. As they settle down, Steve seems to remember something. He looks up at Billy.

“Wait. Did you sniff me earlier?”

Jesus Christ. “Don’t think so highly of yourself, pretty boy. I was just breathing, I don’t know, deeply to calm down.”

Steve smiles. “Scared, huh?”

They’re still in the tree, the small space seeming so much more cramped now that it isn’t fear that keeps them there.

“Oh, shut up. Of course not.”

When Steve tilts his head up to meet Billy’s eyes, the change in angle makes his lips only a breath away from Billy’s own. “Do I smell good?”

“Fuck off,” Billy breathes, but when he tries to break Steves gaze, to turn away or get out of this tree that feels so charged and hot, he’s shocked it hasn’t caught fire, Steve’s lips catch his.

One thing you can taste.

#thank you for the ask and for the luck!!!!#much love to you #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove #my writing

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goth-surana · 4 years ago

Text

Different Violence

Main Pairing: Anders/Male Hawke

Main Tags: hurt/comfort, whump, aftermath of torture

Chapter 1/2

Summary: Anders opened his eyes just a fraction, but enough to let Hawke know he was alive. Hawke breathed out a sigh of relief that was short lived because Anders was still beaten bloody. There was a gash across his forehead and his lip was split, there was a dark bruise forming on his cheek.

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

The apprentice slated for tranquility had gotten away, that was what mattered. That’s what Anders told himself as his face was pressed into the tunnel floor.

His mana was gone, he had been smited so many times that even Justice was only simmering under his skin.

The Templar on his back twisted his arm up, making him hiss in pain. Anders tried to avoid panicking, tried to think of a way out of this. What if they took him to the Gallows? What if they made him tranquil?

Anders struggled harder, causing his captor to chuckle and twist his arm again. This time Anders avoided making any sound, but the sharp pain still stabbed through him.

The Templar then felt a hand up the back of his head, twisting his gauntleted hand in his hair. The man yanked his head back and the smashed it into the ground, breaking a scream out of Anders this time.

Blood gushed from his forehead as he distantly heard another Templar chastise him.

“That’s the Champion’s man, idiot,” the other Templar said. “We can’t kill him, Knight Commander’s orders.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have our fun,” came another voice. This man was amused, and his tone sent a chill down Anders’ spine.

“Hold him up,” the man ordered the others. He spoke with authority, making Anders guess he had a higher rank.

Anders was turned around so that two Templars were holding him sitting up, and the commanding man knelt down to leer at him. His eyes were an almost unnatural blue, and Anders tried to meet his gaze without fear.

“My my,” the man said, smiling. “You’re quite the defiant one. Your kind are always my favorites…”

The man reached forward and stroked a hand down Anders’ cheek. Anders tried to pull away unsuccessfully, amusing the man.

“You would break beautifully, if I had the time with you…” the man mused, almost wistful. “Shame we don’t have that time. We do need to be returning you, after all. That doesn’t mean the two of us can’t have any fun, however.”

Before Anders could begin to worry even more, the man slapped a metal coated hand across his face. Anders recoiled but the other Templars held him steady. There was no escape.

The man then grabbed onto Anders’ jaw and dug his fingers in painfully. He produced a vial of pink liquid that Anders immediately recognized as magebane.

“Either drink it, or I cut it into you,” the man told him calmly. Anders chose the latter, refusing to just give in. He chose to struggle while the Templars held him down and pulled away enough of his coat to find a patch of skin and cut. Anders didn’t scream, refused to give them the fucking satisfaction until they actually began to pour the bane over the cut. Then when he did let out an involuntary yell, the of them took that opportunity to pour the rest down his throat anyway. It tasted vile and Anders spluttered as he choked.

The Templars just laughed. Anders could feel the meager amount of mana he had left being drained away, began to feel lightheaded. He had never been poisoned with this much magebane before, didn’t know if it would make him pass out or throw up or even if it would kill him.

No, it wouldn’t kill him because they had just said they needed him alive. But they also said that they would have their “fun” first, so Anders supposed it would probably be better if he did pass out. If he could just close his eyes and wake up in Hawke’s estate, safe.

Unfortunately for Anders, he did not fall unconscious. He tried to will himself away from the things they did to him, from the kicks and punches and the cuts, but no amount of thinking could make them stop hurting. He took solace in the fact that they did say they had to return him...he would see Hawke again, this pain would end. It was only pain, he had lived through pain before and he could live through it again.

They did make him scream and cry, they made him yell in agony, but he knew it would be over soon. He just had to wait. It would be over soon...it would be over soon.

——————————-

Hawke was at his estate in the company of friends, but missing the company of his lover. Anders had some important mission to run for the underground, but he said as soon as it was over he would head back home.

Hawke knew his friends often clashed with Anders, but there was a shared camaraderie there and at least Varric and Isabela were disappointed he wasn’t showing. Hawke also felt like if Anders would stop giving Merrill a hard time they could get along. It was a little hopeless for Fenris, but Hawke could keep hoping anyway.

Everyone was drinking, but Hawke had stayed sober. If he was hosting, he wanted to stay presentable for at least a little while. So he only took small sips and just enjoyed the atmosphere.

Right now he was losing at Wicked Grace to Merrill of all people, who had also stayed sober and had evidently began taking lessons from Isabela. The woman was looking at Merrill with open pride, taking as much joy in Merrill’s victory as she was.

“I hope Blondie doesn’t miss all the fun,” said Varric, who was at least a little drunk. “Your guy needs to lighten up a bit, Hawke.”

“A lot’s been going on,” Hawke responded. “And he’s not all doom and gloom. He can have fun.”

“Oh I’m sure he can when he’s with you,” chimed in Isabela. “In fact, you’d better be making sure you’re pulling your weight there. The man deserves it!” Isabela was also a little drunk.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” laughed Hawke, giving her a sly look.

“She’s saying she hopes you’re good at having sex with him,” said Merrill very seriously. The whole room erupted in laughter. Even Fenris giggled a bit, which was just delightful.

“What did I say that was funny?” Merrill asked with a raised eyebrow. “Is Hawke bad at sex?”

More laughter, which was then cut off abruptly by a loud knock at the door.

Hawke got up, confused. Who in the Maker’s name would be bothering him at this hour? It couldn’t be Anders because he would have just used the cellar entrance.

“Let Bodahn get it,” said Varric, waving a hand. “If they want your attention they should have come at a reasonable hour.”

Hawke considered this. He could hear the pouring rain outside and didn’t like the idea of leaving whoever it was out in that, but he also didn’t really want to talk to some noble begging him for help.

A knock rang out again, this one louder. Hawke heard Bodahn’s footsteps, and figured he would let the dwarf answer it if he was already on the way.

Distantly, he heard the creak of the door opening. Then Bodahn’s frightened voice rang through the halls.

“Master Hawke!”

Hawke was up at once, grabbing his sword on the way in case danger had arrived. Good thing he’d stayed sober, nothing good could have come knocking at this hour.

Hawke’s friends all followed him with equal urgency, sensing the danger too.

At first Hawke was confused, seeing only Bodahn standing in an empty doorway. But then he saw the figure slumped on the steps in the pouring rain.

Hawke approached with an almost cold efficiency, going into his warrior mindset he had to don in battle. That all slipped away in an instant when he saw who the figure was.

Hawke now crashed to his knees in a panic on the steps outside, not caring about the pouring rain as he pulled Anders into his lap.

The man’s head fell backwards revealing his bruised face to Hawke.

“Love?” Hawke asked, the fear he felt pulsing through his veins evident in his voice, as he ran a thumb along Anders’ cheek. What the fuck had happened? Who had done this?

Anders opened his eyes just a fraction, but enough to let Hawke know he was alive. Hawke breathed out a sigh of relief that was short lived because Anders was still beaten bloody. There was a gash across his forehead and his lip was split, there was a dark bruise forming on his cheek.

Hawke also realized his coat wasn’t on properly, instead wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Hawke did not let himself think too hard about all the worst reasons there could be for his clothes to be in disarray.

Under his coat his light tunic had bloody spots seeping through it, but no rips in the material. Again, the worst did not need to have happened, but the fact was that Anders had either redressed himself or been redressed by his attackers. Given the state he was in, probably the latter.

“Someone help me lift him,” Hawke said, talking through the cloud of panic in his head. He had to keep calm long enough to make sure Anders was stable, at least to get him out of the rain.

Aveline reached him first, helping lift Anders into Hawke’s arms. It must have jostled some injury because Anders let out a small whimper that pulled on Hawke’s heartstrings.

“I’m sorry,” Hawke whispered even though he suspected Anders wasn’t aware enough to hear him. “I’m sorry, love.”

Hawke strode into the mansion, both of them soaking wet and tracking water all cross the entrance hall. Hawke didn’t want to go up the stairs before he knew what kind of injuries he could aggravate, so he headed straight to the living room and set Anders down on the sofa. Hawke gingerly brushed a wet strand of hair out of his face, trying to calm his beating heart. He had to stay calm, figure out what was wrong.

“Anders?” Hawke asked again, placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t want to do anything first if Anders could tell him what was injured. How to help him.

Brown eyes blinked up at him as a drop of water ran down his bruised cheek.

“Love, what do I need to do?” Hawke asked. He would not panic.

Anders only looked at him blearily, then smiled. Why was he smiling? There wasn’t anything to fucking smile about here.

“They did return me,” he breathed out. “Thought they might have been lying about that one…”

They? Hawke thought, who are “they.” He would have to ask that of Anders later, so he could find out who deserved retribution. Find out who did this to his lover.

“Anders,” Hawke asked again, patting his face. He needed to focus. “What do I do? How do I help you?”

It took a moment for Anders to reply. Hawke waited with bated breath, listening to only the sound of everyone’s silence.

“Dress the wounds,” Anders said, closing his eyes again. “I can’t heal them right now…”

Hawke didn’t have anything for wounds at his mansion. Why the fuck did he not, with the way he lived?

“Someone go to his clinic and get supplies!” Hawke said to the room behind him. He heard footsteps but didn’t stay looking long enough to know who had gone. That wasn’t important.

Anders shivered, then winced when it aggravated some unseen wound.

“Wet clothes… won't be good if I freeze.”

Anders tried to sit up, but quickly recoiled in on himself and fell back.

“Shit,” he muttered through ragged breaths. “Hawke, help me sit.”

“Right,” Hawke said, placing a hand under Anders’ back and another on his shoulder. He pushed him up and kept pushing even when Anders started shaking again.

His eyes blinked slowly, like he was slipping away again.

“No!” Hawke cried, “no, stay with me!”

Anders looked at him as he closed his eyes, slipping back into unconsciousness.

“Shit,” Hawke muttered as he propped Anders’ limp body against some pillows.

“I’ll have to cut his clothes away. Someone go grab one of my house robes.”

Hawke worked quickly, grabbing a knife that Isabela handed him. First he unwrapped the coat from Anders, and his heart sank. Blood had seeped through the clothing in multiple more places, an entire night sky of violence inflicted.

Hawke cut away the clothes quickly and what he found was somehow even worse. Across Anders’ chest were multiple intersecting cuts, done evenly and methodically. This wasn’t a battle, this has been slow torture.

The same cuts were present on his arms, but not his legs. Although by the time he had Anders down to his smallclothes, he had found a deep cut on his thigh. This had been a gouge rather than a slice.

Hawke was even more grateful that he hadn’t left the door unattended, because Anders was bleeding out fast and looked even paler than usual.

In order to preserve his dignity Hawke draped a blanket over his hips as he removed his smallclothes. Dignity wasn’t the most important thing right now, Hawke knew that… but he still wanted that for Anders. His companions were still rushing about gathering supplies and setting them out, all of them pulling their knowledge of healing together to figure out what they would need.

Anders blinked his eyes open, then shuddered.

Hawke brushed a strand of hair from his face, carefully avoiding the bruise.

“H-have you cleaned the wounds?” Anders asked in what was practically a whisper.

“Not yet,” Hawke said.

“Okay… you’ll…want to do that now. The tunnels aren’t the most s-sanitary.”

Anders’ whole body was trembling as he spoke, either from the cold or the pain.

“G-get this o-one first,” Anders managed to say, twitching his thigh weakly.

“Right,” Hawke told him, feeling sick. How messed up was it that Anders had to direct him in the manner of healing himself? Shouldn’t Hawke know this, shouldn’t Anders be able to relax his mind as his body went through trauma?

Hawke vowed to pay more attention to the knowledge Anders shared. This was never going to happen again, not under Hawke’s watch… but if it did, he would be prepared.

Someone handed Hawke a bowl of water and a clean rag, and Hawke set to work cleaning the blood from around the wound. Anders hissed in pain as his body tried to seize up, but held himself still and only twitched weakly.

Hawke ran a hand over his thigh as he cleaned, needing to know he was offering some kind of comfort. It was as much for him as it was for Anders.

“Get alcohol next,” Anders croaked out, his hands tense fists at his side. His face was so pale he looked like a ghost, sweat beading on his forehead.

Hawke dipped the rag in and brought it to the wound, causing Anders to muffle a cry and twitch again. Hawke never wanted to hear that sound again, the sound of Anders trying to hold back pain.

“You can yell if you want,” Hawke whispered as he tried to work quickly. “No one will judge you for it.”

Anders shook his head, jaw tense. “N-not going to give them the f-fucking satisfaction…”

Again, this them was mentioned. Whoever they were, they would be dead by this time tomorrow if Hawke had his way.

Hawke finally finished disinfecting the wound and began to apply bandages. Anders was shaking, hands grasping the couch cushions in a white-knuckled grip.

Hawke placed a hand on Anders’ shoulder, rubbing small circles as he spoke. “Chest next, is that okay?”

Anders nodded, eyes now screwed shut. He took a long breath in, then out.

The second Hawke touched the wet cloth to a wound Anders’ whole body shuddered violently. Hawke wasn’t sure if these wounds hurt worse or if the cumulative pain was just catching up to him.

“Shh, shh,” Hawke muttered, running a hand through his lover’s hair. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Hawke tried to steady Anders with a hand to his shoulder as he worked but the shaking and shuddering kept getting worse.

“I’m sorry,” Hawke muttered every time Anders cried out, “I’m sorry.”

The alcohol was worse. Anders reflexively flinched away, once actually screaming.

Hawke flinched away himself when this happened, his frayed nerves slowly unwinding. His own hands shook now, unable to handle the fact that as he was healing him he had to hurt Anders all over again.

Varric brought over a cloth for Anders to bite down on, which he took quickly. Hawke’s hands kept shaking, he could tell this was now going slower than it needed to.

Anders’ shaking body and his unsteady hands were making this bloody impossible.

“S-someone hold me down,” Anders said after taking the cloth away.

Isabela stepped in, leaning over the couch arm to hold his shoulders. Hawke kept going, but the image this was producing to him was too much. Had Anders looked like this then, being held down and hurt? Had… had…

Hawke felt his stomach turn violently, and just managed to avoid throwing up from sheer stress.

“Shit,” he muttered, still turning away. “I can’t… I can’t do this.” Fuck, his head didn’t feel right either.

“We’ll switch,” said Isabela in an authoritative voice she must have used while captain. Hawke nodded numbly, sliding onto the couch behind Anders and propping him against his chest. He could feel how cold Anders was, how fast his heart was beating.

“Steady, Hawke,” said Isabela. Hawke did as he was told and held on tight, grasping Anders’ shoulders as he whispered stupid assurances in his ear. It would be over soon.

It wasn’t over soon. It felt like forever as Isabela disinfected the wounds and Anders couldn’t even contain his cries of agony.

“What did they do to you, sweet thing?” Isabela muttered as she worked. Anders was too out of it to respond, and Hawke just kept holding on tight and trying to keep it together. Hawke had never been good at staying calm when someone was hurt, much less someone for whom he cared so deeply.

Tears slid down Anders’ face as he sobbed into the rag, and all Hawke could do was keep holding him and keep talking.

Finally Isabela was applying bandages, more efficiently than Hawke would have expected of her. Anders continued to cry, but softer now. Hawke held on tight, feeling his own eyes well up.

Who had done this? Who did Hawke have to kill?

When the last bandage was tied off, Anders shuddered in Hawke’s arms and reached up to remove the cloth from his mouth.

“Th-thank you,” he said quietly. “I-I should be a-alright now…”

He didn’t look bloody alright.

“Shh, don’t talk, just rest,” Hawke said.

Anders normally would have came back with some smart remark about nothing ever being able to shut him up, but now he just fell silent. This wasn’t a good sign.

He was still shivering, still cold to the touch and pale.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, okay?” Hawke asked. Anders nodded.

Hawke bundled Anders in the blanket to preserve his modesty and gently lifted him. Even this much caused some amount of pain.

Hawke’s companions were all silent as he ascended the stairs and made his way to the bedroom. It was warmer in here, and safe from prying eyes. Hawke set Anders on the bed, and sat down next to him.

Anders was breathing unevenly as Hawke pulled the covers over him.

“Thank you, love,” Anders said softly. He still looked so pale.

Hawke’s own hands were shaking again, his chest felt almost too tight to breath. His head was flooded with stress like he had just finished a hard fought battle.

Hawke looked over to Anders, about to ask if there was anything he could do for the pain, and saw that the man had fallen asleep.

Hawke tried to let out a breath, but a sob came instead. Shit.

Anders twitched at the noise, and Hawke left quickly with a hand over his face. He shut the door, walked a few paces down the hallway, and sank to his knees and cried.

He released all the pent up stress, all the anger and horror and hurt. He wasn’t even the one who had been brutalized, but it felt like his heart was held in a vice grip by whoever had done this to Anders.

Hawke didn’t notice Fenris approach, but looking up for a moment he saw the man standing silently. How long had he been there, watching Hawke cry?

Hawke took a deep breath, tried to compose himself. He nodded in Fenris’s direction, prompting him to speak. Hawke didn’t trust his own voice right now.

“I am sorry for intruding,” Fenris began. “I know Isabela noticed something strange about the mage’s wounds. They hurt more than they should.”

Hawke couldn’t recall Isabela saying anything like that, but this whole ordeal was a horrible blur.

“It occurred to me that this may be a practice from Tevinter, wherein one pours magebane in the wounds of their enemies. If you are a mage, I am told it increases the pain.”

Another fucking thing done to Anders. As if cutting him wasn’t enough.

“Wh-“ Hawke started, his voice breaking. He took a moment to get it together. “What can I do? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Apply elfroot to the wounds, after they are somewhat healed. Hopefully the poison will wear off soon and the mage can heal himself the rest of the way.”

Fenris looked like he had something else to say. There was an odd vulnerability about his expression, he looked almost shaken.

“I…” he said. “I know I do not get on with the mage… with Anders. But do let him know I hope he recovers well. I take no pleasure in my allies suffering torture, especially not with Tevinter techniques.”

Right. That must have been hard for Fenris to watch too. He had his own experience with torture and abuse.

“Are the others still here?” Hawke asked, feeling more drained than he had all year.

“Yes. They are waiting to see if you need anything else.”

“Tell them thank you, but… but we should be okay now. I have all the supplies I need, and the worst is behind us.”

A darker thought crossed Hawke’s mind.

“But soon I will need help. When Anders has recovered enough to tell me who did this.”

Fenris seemed to catch his meaning, and nodded grimly. “You will always have my support, Hawke.”

#anders/male hawke #anders/hawke #handers #m!handers

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