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le-fruit-de-la-passion · 2 years ago

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The Broken Window - Chapter 1 - Dabi x Reader (Explicit)

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You didn't really think you could outrun a deal with the Devil, did you?

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You were running.

You were running, and running, and running, but it didn't matter. They were right behind you like hunting dogs after their prey, their hands clawing at your ankles. Were you in the city or the wild? The pure darkness that surrounded you didn't answer. You knew soon, there would be nowhere left to run to.

A hand grabbed you by the foot, and you fell face-first into the nothingness. They were all over your body now, suffocating you, burying you deeper into the void, the sound of your own heart maddening inside your head. You tried to breathe, but you couldn't, you couldn't, and a hand wormed its way inside your chest as it tore through your muscles and bones to toy with your insides. You could feel it, deep inside you, ready to grab onto your lungs and squeeze every inch of air out of them like they promised you they would, and then-

And then, you woke up.

It took you a few seconds to realize you were in your room, safe, whole. You felt your arm shake as you put your hand against your chest, feeling the smooth skin and the presence of the trashing heart under it. It was still there.

You absentmindedly wiped your eyes, unshed tears and overwhelming fatigue making your sight blurry. The bed creaked as you got up, the cold tiles on the floor grounding as you made your way to the bathroom. Were you ever going to sleep peacefully again?

The old faucet hesitated before spewing out some freezing water, and you promptly splashed it over your face, hoping to no avail it would make you feel alive again. You glanced in the mirror, and like every day since you'd started living here, you wondered who the person looking back could be.

She looked nothing like you. Her hair was dyed and cut, her clothes baggy to keep her frame hidden, the eyes you used to carefully apply makeup to every morning dark and reddened by the contacts you even wore in bed out of fear. Where you had been joyful and witty, she was nothing more than a shadow people would pass by without noticing. And that's what you needed her to be.

The men after you were much more than the tormentors in your dreams. Even a child could tell you the yakuza was not to be trifled with, that all those who betrayed them would be found floating in the river with weights attached to their limbs, if they had any limbs left at all. But what most people didn't understand was that, sometimes, there was no one else to turn to than the Devil himself. You needed money, desperately, and they had provided what the state had refused to.

You poured some cereal into a bowl, counting the individual flakes as they fell from the box. They were a luxury you couldn't afford to overuse. There was no milk to let them soften in, and so you ate them dry, the texture impossibly tough against your teeth. You hadn't brought your phone or your computer when you ran; you weren't stupid enough to believe they wouldn't use them to track you down in seconds. Yet, as you stared at the wall facing you, the old flowery wallpaper ripped in a few corners, you wondered if your friends had sent you any messages this morning, like they used to do every day. Maybe, after four months of disappearance, they had given up on you.

Work took up most of your day. To the other tenants of the apartment building, you were the faceless caretaker who cleaned the floors and did the laundry, a young girl who had fallen on her luck and for whom the owner had kindly lent the unfinished flat on the fifth floor. You didn't mind cleaning; it kept your mind occupied, a roof over your head, and a disposable face mask over any of your recognizable features.

Sometimes, an older woman on the third floor would leave a pastry or two for you on her kitchen counter, as if you were a stray cat she was trying to domesticate. She had kind eyes, those who, once upon a time, you would have seen yourself trust with all your secret during an afternoon tea in her macrame-covered living room. But, for your sake and hers, you couldn't afford to get any closer to her. If, somehow, they connected her to you, you would both go through a living hell for a crime she had nothing to do with.

When you came back to your apartment, midnight on the dot, there was always a light wind going through the rooms, consequence of a broken window you were too scared to ask the owner to fix. You'd drink some water, eat if you could, brush your teeth, and find refuge from the cold under the thin blanket of your bed, hoping you might finally rest without being chased by invisible shadows. Yet every night was the same, the ghosts of men sent by the League to get you always running through your mind. It was an uncomfortable, but manageable routine, where every part of every day was identical to what it had been the day before.

Which was why when you stepped in tonight, at the same time, in the same way you had done for the last four months, you immediately knew something was wrong.

You took a hesitant step forward, feeling the lack of the familiar frigid draft against your skin. The room had never been so pleasantly mild and toasty, yet to you, it felt as though it clung onto your skin like fire to cloth.

From the looks of it, the intruder hadn't turned any lights on, or moved anything in the main living area. You listened to it, trying to hear any abnormal sounds from the rest of your home, but you were met with nothing but silence. Were they already gone?

Swallowing thickly, you tiptoed your way to the kitchen, grabbing the largest knife you could get to without opening the old wooden drawers. It wasn't much to look at, barely bigger than the palm of your hand, but maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to deter them from lunging at you first.

That left the bathroom and your bedroom. Weapon in hand, you made your way to the first, breath shakily coming out in reassurance when you found no one behind the ajar door. You made your way to the last room with a beating heart, mind playing a thousand scenarios in less than a second as you grabbed the handle with a sweaty palm. But inside, there was no one.

You let out a sigh of pure relief, feeling the tension in your body ease at the sight. The sweat had made your clothes cling to your damp skin, and you let your grip loosen on the knife, wiping your clammy hands against the fabric. Perhaps the owner had wanted to surprise you and repaired the window himself? You couldn't help but laugh out loud at how paranoid you had become, letting something as small as the wind put you into a frenzy.

"What's so funny?"

You turned around so fast the knife almost slipped out of your hands, and you almost fell as you fumbled to get it back.

Where there had been no one sat a man, legs crossed and resting comfortably on your makeshift sofa. Even sitting down, you could tell he was tall, much taller than you, a muscular chest visible under his dirtied white shirt.

"I don't know what you think you're doing here," you started, much less intimidating than you would have liked, "but you need to get out."

The man took a puff out of the cigarette in his free hand, eyes crinkled in amusement. His irises were blue, an unnatural, glowing azure that seemed to shine in the dark. It felt as though they looked right through you, into you, cutting open your flesh with their fiery stare like in the worst of your nightmares.

"Actually, I think you know exactly why I'm here, Mari Honda. Oh wait, that was your last one, wasn't it? It's Haruka Inugawa now. Or is it Betty Kaito? You'll have to forgive me, I got kind of lost in your list of fake names."

You swallowed with difficulty, the taste of bile coming up your throat.

"I don't know any of these people. Get out of here."

He took another puff of his cigarette, his unnaturally large smile never fading from his lips.

"C'mon, you really wanna play hard to get? What are you gonna do ?" he asked, amusedly throwing a look at the knife trembling in your hands, "Stab me ?"

"I will," you replied firmly, joining your second hand to hold the knife in an attempt to straighten it, "so don't get closer to me."

He hummed, licking his bottom lip. "You know, I really love doing exactly the opposite of what people tell me to do."

Slowly, casually, he raised himself up from the couch, stretching his limbs in mock boredom.

"Stay back !" you screamed.

"Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?" he mused, taking a step towards you. He was close enough for you to see his face now, although you wish you hadn't. What you had first thought to be shadows playing tricks on your eyes were scars, enormous, dark scars, wrapping themselves all around his skin like he had been burnt alive and brought back. Silver piercings covered the only parts of his body with clear skin, making him look like a makeshift, assembled doll of a man from a Frankenstein tale. "I told ya, I like doing what people tell me not to do."

He took another step forward, and you could smell the nicotine coming off his clothes, the odor nauseatingly filling your nostrils.

"Please," you begged, "I swear, I only left to get you guys the money, I really did, I have a couple thousand in the bedroom and I can get your more by the end of the week-!"

"Not good enough," he replied drily, dropping his cigarette to the floor and crushing it against the heels of his sole, the sound sickening. "I'm coming back with your entire debt paid, or with your body in my trunk. Your choice, princess."

Another foot forward, and he was within reaching distance of your knife, his patchwork chest of dark tattoos and scars barely a few inches away. The look he gave you was challenging, daring you to try and stab him, and knowing perfectly well you wouldn't. He was toying with you the same way a cat would play with the trembling body of a mouse, letting it believe it had a chance at escaping before ripping it to shreds.

Your grip on the knife was rock hard, your nails digging painfully into your palms in a desperate attempt to keep it steady in front of the intruder. He reached his hand up, so close to you you forgot how to breathe, and grabbed the blade of the knife with a sick smile. He tugged, once, with such strength you instinctively let go, yelping as you fell ass first onto to cold hardwood floor.

"Little girls shouldn't be playing with sharp objects," he touted reprehensively, observing the small knife, your last and only line of defense, now in his possession. "Aren't you already in enough trouble ?"

He seemed so much taller now, a gigantic dark mass looming over your huddled frame, two blue orbs in its center watching you squirm away until your back hit a wall.

"Give me a month, I beg you," you cried miserably, trying to appeal to the man's sense of pity. "I know I can get half of it by next month. I'm not- I won't run away this time, I promise, just a month !"

"And what's the word of a liar worth to me?" he replied, raising his foot to the height of your face. You shut your eyes close, feeling tears of fear desperately escape them as you braced for the pain of his boot crushing the side of your head.

It never came.

You hesitantly opened them back up, and he laughed, honest to God laughed, a twisted, raspy sound from the depths of his throat.

"Hey now, what kind of guy do you think I am ?" he snickered, visibly amused by your tear-strained face. He brought his hand to your cheek and you recoiled in panic, but he simply wiped a few droplets with his finger in faux tenderness, the grin of enjoyment never leaving his face. "I don't go around hitting beautiful women. Unless they ask me to."

He bent down to be at your level, his breath impossibly warm against yours: "And you're pretty beautiful, aren't you?"

His fingers kept trailing the beads of water on your cheeks, petting you like one would a frightened animal, as no sound dared to come out of your mouth.

"Hey, I have an idea," he whispered like he was about to tell you a secret. "Why don't we make a deal, you and me ?"

Part of you knew that he was most likely playing with your emotions, trying to get one last rise out of you before he broke you for good. But you couldn't help the hope in your voice when you asked him: "A deal ?"

"A deal," he repeated, the abused skin around his mouth awkwardly distorted by his smile. "See, the big boss isn't gonna be too happy if I come back and I tell him I just offered you an extra month for nothin'. And then it's my ass on the line. We wouldn't want that, would we ?"

You hesitantly shook your head negatively, hoping it was what he wanted out of you.

"Right," he hummed, pleased. "But if I come back and I tell him you already moved somewhere else before I got to pick you up, then neither of us is gonna be in trouble. And then, all you gotta do is get the money together before I pay you another visit in a month. How does that sound?"

Too good to be true. There was no compassion, no empathy in those eyes of his. There had to be a catch.

"What do I have to do ?" you finally asked, trying to look into his piercing stare without flinching.

"You don't have to do anything, baby. It's a deal, remember? You're free to choose what you want," he smirked.

But the reality was clear to both of you: between only dealing with him, and dealing with the entirety of the fearsome League, who had built their reputation leaving no opponent or traitor alive, there wasn't much of a choice to be made.

"I'll do it. I'll make a deal with you."

He didn't reply immediately; he didn't need to. The look on his face was one of pure delight, his eyes crinkled smugly. For the first time, you took a moment to observe him closer, noticing the faded trace of badly placed stitches that had never healed quite right along his jaw. He had to have been very handsome, once upon a time, his chiseled features still visible through the scar tissue. Had the League done this to him?

"Good girl. Smarter than you look, huh?"

In other circumstances, you would have frowned before promptly telling him to go fuck himself. But you had a feeling it wouldn't go over so well now, and that he likely had little interest in hearing about your degree.

"C'mon now," he smirked, tossing the knife he still held further away in the kitchen, the blade disappearing into the shadows. A weight you had almost forgotten fell off your shoulders, the knowledge that he didn't intend on using it instantly making you relax. "Gimme a show."

That caught you by surprise, and you looked at him hesitantly, unsure of what he wanted you to do.

"God, do I have to spit out everything for you?" he mumbled, a trace of genuine annoyance on his features. This wasn't good. You couldn't afford to get on the bad side of your only lifeline, but what could he mean by-

Oh.

You felt your cheeks redden, and his smile came back, pearly white teeth shining in the dark. You nervously tugged at the edge of the oversized sweater, the cheap fabric catching in your nails. If you were wrong about this, you'd humiliate yourself in your last moments alive on Earth. But if you were right...

As if you were ripping off a bandaid, you tugged off your top in one rigid swoop, bundling the fabric in your lap and looking away in a last-ditch attempt to preserve your modesty.

"There we go," he whistled appreciably, his eyes so carnivorously going up and down your chest, you could feel their heat through your skin. "The pictures on your file didn't do you justice."

Pictures? you thought worriedly. What kind of pictures? How much information did they have on you?

His fingers ghosted over the delicate skin, tracing but not quite touching, and he looked at you expectantly.

"Y-you can touch..." you mumbled under your breath.

"See? You're getting it now," he smirked.

You didn't expect the intense warmth of his hands, the skin there untouched by the havoc that had been wrecked on the rest of his body. The way he kneaded your breasts like dough was impossibly pleasant, the first human contact you had had in months, and if you leaned into his touch, well, you'd just ignore it. The man, however, was not so kind as to do the same, a shit-eating grin dancing on his lips as he kept toying with your chest.

"Must have felt alone for a while, right sweetheart? It's practically criminal to have tits like yours and keep them hidden away like that."

He punctuated the last sentence with a rough tug on one of your nipples, and you covered your mouth in surprise when a small moan escaped your lips.

"Fuck, yeah..." the man said under his breath, his eyes never leaving the way your breasts bounced gently against his hands. "You're lucky the big boss didn't decide to pick you up himself."

"Why?" you managed to mumble, biting your lip to prevent any more embarrassing sounds as his fingers insistently twisted your nipples.

"'Cause you look exactly like those girls he likes in the porn games he plays all day. Nice, fat tits," he trailed on, digits moving to your stomach "and a pretty little waist to hold on to."

You tried to imagine the leader of the biggest gang in Japan as some sort of shut-in gamer; in any other circumstances, the idea would have made you laugh.

"I'd tell you to get up, but I think you look real good on your knees," the man interrupted your reverie as he rose smoothly, a firm hand guiding you closer to his lower body. You felt a tinge of panic as he held your head clutched to his jeans, the dark fabric visibly stretched around his crotch; were you actually doing this? An impatient tug at your hair confirmed it for you:

"C'mon, open this up for me. I don't have all night."

You hesitantly tugged at the zipper, guiding his member out of its confines before swallowing with difficulty.

He was big.

Not so much thick as he was long, very long, a row of metal loops piercings adorning the veiny underside almost all the way to a pulsating, bright red head. You couldn't help a small 'oh my god' as it slipped through your lips, cursing yourself internally as the man laughed at your bashful words.

"Yeah, you're not the first one to call me that. In my off time though, I go by Dabi, princess."

Dabi, you thought, glancing away from the thick cock to look into his flaming eyes. What a strange name. For someone who had ridiculed your bank of fake names, Dabi sure sounded like the alias of someone who didn't want to be found.

He nudged it against your cheek insistently, the tip almost rubbing your bottom lip.

"Open up," he simply said, and against all sense of better judgment, you obeyed.

If it had felt already warm through the fabric, his cock was hot inside your mouth. The member pulsated in your mouth like lava, the feeling of the metal piercings refreshingly cool in comparison. You took more of him in, looking up to gauge his reaction, and he grunted in approval, pupils fluttering. For as much as he mocked you, he clearly hadn't gotten any physical touch in a while, too: his grip was so firm in your hair it hurt, and the low sounds he let out through grinding teeth as you started moving up and down his shaft told you everything you needed to know.

"Fuck yeah, baby... you do this to every guy who comes here for cash? That how you're so good at it ?"

As an answer, you gave him a peculiarly indignant suck along a large vein and he almost stammered before catching himself, biting his own already damaged lip to the blood.

"Let me- fuck, let me try something, ok?"

You mumbled an inaudible 'ok', your mouth still impossibly full of him, the vibrations noticeably making the muscle of his tights tighten. In an instant, the few inches of him you hadn't taken inside to give yourself space to breathe were shoved roughly inside your throat. You choked in surprise as he used your face with abandon, pointedly ignoring your weak attempts at protesting. Whatever pretense of fair play he went on earlier was gone, the sight of tears of exertion in your eyes seemingly only making him carve himself deeper into you.

"Yeah, that's the shit, that's it baby girl!"

You couldn't breath, the strength of his trusts knocking any air straight out of your lungs. You were starting to feel dizzy; if it wasn't for the possessive hold in your hair, you might have simply fallen down. Soon, your vision got wobbly, and only the feeling of the metal ring on his cock scraping your throat and of heat pooling between your legs seemed to remain. You couldn't help but let out a muffled, broken cry around him when his pace suddenly sped.

"M'gonna cum," he groaned, the words barely registering in the fuzziness of your mind. "Better be ready, I ain't doing it anywhere else but in you. Gonna make you swallow all of it, little fucking slut-!"

Warmth filled your throat, the taste salty and acidic, but you swallowed it all, his pistoning cock still overfilling your mouth. When he finally pulled out, you gasped in relief, the air painfully filling your lungs.

Dabi let out a small sigh; of contentment or dissatisfaction, you were too busy remembering how to breathe to care. One of his hands left your hair and pried your mouth wide open, a digit scoping around your tongue purposely. It occurred to you he was trying to see if you had swallowed all of him, and you felt strangely embarrassed at the thought.

"I'm n'ot a sl'ut," you managed to say in between the fingers inspecting your mouth.

He pulled them out, seemingly satisfied with his inspection, before popping them into his own mouth, licking the saliva off with mock gusto.

"Might wanna look up that word in the dictionary again, princess. Pretty sure your name is next to it, now."

He nonchalantly tugged himself back in his pants before he pushed your abandoned sweater closer to you with his foot. That's it? A little voice in your head asked before you quickly shut it down. Of course that was it. It was a business transaction, nothing more, one that had just saved your life.

"As promised, you get a month to find us the cash. Not a day more. I'll be back for you the second your timer runs out.."

His warm hand tugged at your chin, forcing you to look right into his burning stare.

"So you better not try to escape again, baby."

You straightened your back with as much pride as you could, maintaining the eye contact.

"I won't."

He let go before heading to your window, pushing its previously broken hinges open. He climbed on the windowsill with the grace of a cat, dark hair melting back into the shadows he had first emerged from.

"Dabi ?"

He looked back, seemingly surprised to hear you call him by his name. Against the night sky, his eyes blazed a shimmering blue, and for a second you let yourself be transfixed by their unnatural glow.

"Thank you. For the deal."

He smiled without a word, that cocksure, daunting grin you knew would now fill your night terrors, the shiver of an unknown emotion running through your veins at the thought.

And with that, he was gone, no sign of the intruder left in the apartment except for your half-naked form, on your knees on the kitchen floor, and one perfectly fixed glass window.

#This work is actually not the one I had planned to publish first for my grand comeback #but it kind of wrote itself before I had a chance to finish what I had originally planned #hope you enjoy !!!#please check AO3 for warnings and tags ❤#dabi x reader #my hero academia #bnha #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki x reader #im planning about 3 chapters for this one 💕

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elderflowernumb · 2 years ago

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The bonfire party was going great until the distant rumble of summer heat lightning became cracking peals of thunder that lit up the bayou.

Gusts of wind and torrential rain extingued the burn and sent cheap plastic lawn chairs flying. Your friends scattered - running off to cars or ducking under the rack of stashed canoes.

A hand grabs yours, and you're forced to dash along side someone into the nearby woods.

Your cheap sandals are caught and then left behind in the damp red clay. The grip on your hand had steadied you before you pitched forward into the mud, but pulled you along incessantly into the swamp without allowing you to retrieve them.

Your feet are soon covered in deep scratches and contusions as you scramble over thorns and small stones to keep up. Your damp hair sticks to your face and water gets in your eyes.

Ahead of you a dim light begins to get bigger. Lighting through the trees illuminates a building of some kind, small and tucked under a large live oak.

Obviously the individual who brought you here was familiar with this spot, and had thought to get you out of the storm in its entirety. You still couldn't see who it was though.

You both burst through the unlocked doors, the stranger grabbing the small solar light off of the porch as you did. The faint light reflected off of the polished rows of pews inside.

An old church, Bibles rotting in their holders and mildew being the second strongest smell only to incense.

You look at the stranger who brought you here. They turn their head and make eye contact, pinning you to the spot with the look in their eyes.

You couldn't tell if they were angry or annoyed, if it was you or the storm - but they were upset.

"You're hurt." Is the first thing out of their mouth. It takes you a minute to understand but then you look down and see what they mean.

Long dark scratches from brambles, sand spurs clinging to the hem of your soaked sweatpants. Your feet are covered in red clay and blood, and one of your toes may be broken.

"It's fine." You assure them, "I've honestly had way worse."

Their frown seems to deepen, and before you can say anything further the light turns off and they seem to disappear. You hear rummaging noises and muttering from a side room.

You try to walk towards the sound but you bump into a pew with a SMACK! and add another bruise to the collection.

You rub the spot and groan for a moment. The noise has stopped; you can hear the steps of the stranger returning.

"Hey why'd you -"

The sentence is interrupted by them sweeping you into their arms and carrying you across the room. You're gently placed on something flat and high off the ground. The light is still off, so you feel around. Cold marble is under your hands.

"Am I...on an altar right now?" you practically whisper. Your stomach feels warm, maybe from being held just now.

The stranger offers no response, but a match is struck and them begin to light up the surroundings by lighting the old candles around you. The air begins to smell like beeswax and incense, which you inhale gratefully in an effort to dispel mold and swamp from your nose.

The stranger finishes lighting everything and then kneels infront of you, pulling an old wooden box next to them. You're about to ask what they're doing when you feel something being poured on your feet.

It stings a little, and you squeak at the sudden sensation. You watch as they pull out a cloth and some bandages, gently cleaning the mud and scabs off of you.

Their gaze is focused as they sanitize every scratch and apply ointment to the scrapes. Their hands are gentle as they wrap soft guaze around everything, ensuring the area remains sterile.

You can't help but watch as that warm feeling in your gut expands. Something about the way they're treating you makes you feel giddy, like you're something precious and fragile.

"Don't get down." They say with an authoritative tone as they finish their work.

They haven't moved from where they're kneeling however.

Eyes meet yours again as you look down at them, and they're something there you can't understand. Maybe the candle light is changing their expression, or the incense is making you lightheaded -

But something in their gaze looked borderline worshipful.

You gulp and squirm in place as the heat in your stomach goes abruptly lower.

"Why'd you bring me here?" you ask, looking away flushed. "I didn't even know this place existed."

"It's my hiding spot. I come here sometimes during the day when I have nowhere else to be."

Their hand reaches out and strokes your ankle.

"I thought maybe you'd like it here too. And given the situation I thought you'd like to be out of the storm."

As if in reminder, a large CRACK! shook the air, the interior of the church blindingly bright for a moment.

The light is almost as bright as the now burning look in the strangers eyes.

"I don't remember inviting you to the party."

You try to slide farther back onto the altar, away from their hands. The palm on your ankle becomes a vice grip, and yanks you forward.

"Forgive me, but I couldn't help but invite myself."

Their arms slide up along your legs, gripping your thighs. You wince a bit as fingers bruise the skin over the sore spot from the pew.

The fervent look in their eyes fades a bit as they loosen their grip.

"Are you still hurt?" there's worry in their voice.

Hoping that an injury would distract them from whatever they had started doing, you nod.

The hand that had been lightly gripping you goes suddenly higher, and your sweats are pulled off of you in one motion. "Let me see."

Shock stops you from doing anything until their face is directly next to your thigh, their brows knit as they attempt to see the bruise in candlelight. You put a hand on their forehead, stopping them from getting closer.

They look back up at you with those bright eyes, and assure you, "I won't do anything you don't want."

Your hand stays on their head as they slowly dip down and gently kiss the injury.

A noise bubbles up from your throat, something like a choked whimper.

You can feel the grin form against your skin as they hear the sound. They kiss again, this time slightly higher. You swear you can feel a bit of tongue dart out.

"You don't have to be afraid of me." is whispered as their breaths start to tickle your hip. "I just joined your party tonight because I wanted to pray."

The voice that comes from you is confused and throaty. "Pray? To what? And what does that have to do with my party?"

Teeth nip your stomach as they use their mouth to remove your boxers. Another kiss is planted closer now to the spot all of the heat has been pooling to.

"Well I pray to only one, and when I do it is with my whole being," the explanation tickles against your navel, "and for the duration of this storm, that worship will be done with you."

Finally their head dips and their mouth is on you, sucking away as a deep, broken noise rumbles out of you. Your hand is fisted in their hair, pulling it as you lock eyes with them again.

Fevor, worship, supplication - these words rattle around in your head as you look at them. The look they are giving you is half-condescending, half-venerating. It makes you want to slap them, and you yank cruelly upward.

They break suction and MOAN. The lewdness of the sound makes you clench, and you wrap your hand around their throat. Nails leave crescent marks on their neck that sluggishly bleed, but they still hold your gaze with defiance and want.

"Why me?" You demand, shaking them.

"It's always been you." They choke out. "Please - "

You cut them off. "Please what?!"

"Let me worship you." They reach their hands out and run their arms under your shirt, stroking up your back. "I will treat you like a god."

The hand holding them releases and they sag for a moment. Then they pull your shirt over your head, leaving you naked on the altar.

The peel off their own wet shirt and lean forward over your lap, arms wrapping around your waste. They press their face into your stomach as they beg, "Let me show you the extent of my devotion."

You don't understand why they want this, with you, here and now. But a coil of want and need has been twisting in your guy since this began and regardless of how, it had to be addressed.

You embrace them in your lap. Maybe you've gone crazy, but your mouth moves on its own.

"Then show me."

They let out a small, excited moan and push you back onto the cold marble. Hands lock around your hips and pull you forward until your ass is nearly hanging off the edge. They press forward between your legs and trail their hand upward to your face.

"I will make you MY god."

#worshipkink #t4t nsft #queer nsft #trans nsft #ftm dom

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an-annyeoing-writer · 2 years ago

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Chanyeol x Reader: pyrophobic.

Part One of Nine

Genre: powers!AU

Rating: +16

Release date: 6th Nov. 2022

Word count: 7 173

Warnings: mentions of death & depressive thoughts

He stumbled through the night, tearing apart its dark and coldness. The world surrounding him crumbled in front of his eyes, shattering into pieces. Or was it his world shattering? Maybe, he thought, that was what he was meant to become. Ashes left of what he used to be, of the human he once was. He didn’t feel like a person anymore.

These were his last thoughts before the world he hated exploded around him, swallowing him whole.

“Are you sleeping?”

You raised your head abruptly. Your classmate stared at you with his head tilted to the side.

“Huh? Am I?”

Baekhyun – said classmate – laughed quietly at your confused tone, but then his face tensed at the stern look the professor shot at the two of you. He hung his head low in shame, waiting for the teacher to look away, and then glanced at you, stifling laughter once again. You rolled your eyes.

“What are we at?”

“This part.” He pushed the textbook in front of you. You attempted to read the sentence in front of you a few times before your sleepy mind managed to – although barely – get it through your head.

You sighed and glanced up. Your professor’s words were further and further away, and your consciousness slipped away once again.

“You’re overworked these days, aren’t you?”

The two of you were sitting in a huge garden in the middle of the university’s grounds, lazily munching on your lunches. Baekhyun almost finished his, and you slowly took in your own, but as you still had almost half hour of a break left, none of you worried about how long it would yet take. The university had this clever idea of having a forty-five minutes break in the middle of the day, officially for the professors, but practically as a lunch break for everyone. The university’s cafeteria was, however, so occupied at that time, that bringing your own lunch was the best idea.

“I’m not. Not really. The semester just started, we don’t have that much to do yet” you shrugged. “I mean, in comparison to how much spare time I have, it’s really not much. I’m just… Dunno. I’m having that weird, uneasy feeling these days. Hard time sleeping, too.”

“Uneasy feeling, huh?” The man rested chin on his hand, playing with the remains of rice in his lunch box, digging sticks into it and then flipping over countless amount of times, at which you stared, curious how long would it take before he’d accidentally flip the rice out of the box. “Maybe it’s the weather?”

“You think we’ll get a tornado?”

“You’re so stupid.”

Catching a bit of rice in the sticks, he threw it at you. It hit your shirt and fell off, so you didn’t even have to move to get it off. You sighed, as if it didn’t bother you at all; you were too deep in thoughts, in fact, to care.

“Seriously though, there had been a huge fire nearby my place.”

“But they put it down, didn’t they?” Baekhyun stared at you expectantly.

“Yeah, and it was some abandoned factory, there were only a few homeless men inside but they all got out when it started to spread.”

“You’ve read into it?”

“I saw the fire there the night before yesterday, it was scary” you huffed, crossing your arms and leaning on the table in front of you.

“How come? Wasn’t it quite far from your place?”

“Safely far enough, but it just… It made me uneasy.”

“I see.”

It had been barely a month ever since you started living alone. You liked it, you could say; the independence and possibility to stay away from your family house without feeling like something’s missing. All of your things were in this small flat in a district of closed factories and old tenement houses. A poor neighborhood, probably not the safest, but you weren’t anywhere close to being rich yourself. What you had, was more than enough.

You laid on the couch that served you as a bed at night, since there was only one small room in your apartment, and the second-hand couch was the cheapest thing you found. It was late afternoon, with the sky already covering in shades of red and violets. The sight behind your window reminded you of the glow that you saw two nights ago; the scary thing that kept you awake for hours, which you spent doing as much as you could – looking for news online. The news of fire mixed with the news of other tragedies, and there were many happening in the past few weeks, if not months. Spending hours reading about murders, attacks, even things as otherworldly, in your perception, as companies getting their systems hijacked – a common occurrence lately – had your anxiety spiraling to the levels where even, if you managed to get some sleep, it wouldn’t feel peaceful at all.

Now, days later, you still felt restless.

Sudden knocking on your door didn’t surprise you. Although you had no clue who could be in there, it was as though you spent all this time only waiting for it to echo in your flat.

You stared at your room’s ceiling for some more time, as if the sound didn’t faze you. Only when it echoed once again, had you realized that you should get up and answer whoever tried to get inside your flat.

You stood up from your spot without hurry; your body felt sluggish, because you almost fell asleep while resting. You opened the door without checking the peephole.

A man hovered above you, with his arm resting against the door frame, his eyes hazy, his face covered in dirt, just like his clothes and hands, mixed with blood from small cuts on literally every surface of his skin that you saw. You froze, staring at him in utter shock.

“[F/n]?”

The husky voice, followed by a cough, tore you out of your daze.

“Y-yes? Who are you? How do you know my name? What happened to you…?” The questions spilled out of your mouth even before you could fully think them over. Should you close the door as soon as possible, because the man could be dangerous? You probably should. You would, but not with how your chest clenched at his pained expression, at exhaustion and fatigue visible in his whole composure.

“He told me I can trust you” the man whispered.

And then his legs suddenly gave underneath him, and the only thing that saved him from hitting your apartment’s floor with his head were your arms, extended to keep him from hurting himself while falling.

You managed to sit calmly in your chair only for seven minutes and fifty three seconds. That was the time when the constant ticking of your clock started to drive you crazy and you stood up, starting to pace around the room for a change. Your eyes darted to the silhouette occupying your very own couch; the man with many wounds, none of which, fortunately, seemed lethal. You barely managed to pull him all the way to the damn couch and you needed to rest a little before deciding what to do. Because you had, clearly, no idea.

Six more minutes and you sat back down. You glanced at your phone. Should you call someone? Police? Ambulance? It seemed to you as though the man didn’t want any of these, but, to be honest, was it any of your business? Probably not.

You totally didn’t feel like dealing with it alone, so you dialed number of the only person you could trust right now.

But, as if the entire universe was now against you, Baekhyun simply didn’t answer. There was a long silence after his chirpy voicemail instructed you to leave a message after a signal, which you shut down with a red button. You were alone, it seemed. You shot him a short message asking to call you back ASAP and then put the phone down. What now?

Your gaze was stuck on the man lying in your very own bed. His chest moved heavily, his face scrunched in pain. His hair was dirty from dark dust that hid its usual color completely; the same sort of dust covered most of his clothes and face, getting all over your mattress, which you only briefly cringed at – it wasn’t that important now. The blood was dried. And there was also smell: smell of burn, along with one that you couldn’t know, but you could instinctively tell, these weren’t just his clothes that caught on fire.

Fire.

You gulped at the sudden thought that appeared in your mind.

“No. No way. No fucking way.”

He looked like a victim, no matter how you looked at it. Like someone who’d been caught in the fire, maybe trapped somewhere with no escape. How come he didn’t die – you didn’t know. How come he appeared here so suddenly, after a few days had passed – you couldn’t know either. You just had a feeling that you knew, why he decided not to go straight into a hospital, and why he seemed not to want to be found.

God. You couldn’t deal with it now. You needed to clear your mind.

He didn’t seem like he’d wake up anytime soon. So you got up, put on your shoes and left, supposedly to breath in the fresh air, and just hoping so that upon going back, he’d have left your place, sparing you from the trouble you didn’t necessarily want for yourself.

The weather outside was rather chill; in the distance, the sun already hid behind the buildings, and all you could see were pastel colors of the sky above. There were dozens of sounds surrounding you – mainly birds and cars, sometimes the people you passed, although in this area there weren’t too many to begin with. The wind made you regret not taking a hoodie, but you knew you wouldn’t spend too much here now. You just wanted to take a few minutes; you were more than aware that leaving a stranger alone in your very own apartment was not the wisest idea.

You didn’t spend outside even five minutes – that was as long as you could take before going back home. You entered your flat.

There was a quiet voice echoing in your room and you headed straight there.

The man was sitting on your bed with your own phone pressed against his ear, clearly aware that you arrived, but not paying you much attention. But, before he could say anything more – you wished you eavesdropped a bit, but now it was too late – you pulled the phone out of his hand and ended the call without looking at the caller’s ID.

“You don’t touch what’s not yours without asking” you scolded him, pushing the phone into your pocket. The man’s hand was still raised from where he held the phone as he glanced up at you coldly, although deciding not to argue. He dropped his hand and shifted on your bed a little as you crossed your arms, staring down at him, clearly upset. “Who are you?”

“Chanyeol” he replied simply. Good, at the very least, he offered an answer.

“Why are you here?”

“Because you let me in, I suppose” he answered, leaning back against the backrest of the couch, a small, annoying smirk in the corner of his lips.

“…Yes, but why did you come here” you specified.

“I was told I can trust you.” You did, in fact, hear him say it earlier.

“How about you trust a hospital, hm?” You smiled politely, noting how his face tensed tiredly, a blood drop trickling form his nostril. He could have had some internal injuries, and you were in no place to deal with it. You reached to your phone again. “I assure you that doctors can take better care of you than I do.”

“If you make this phone call, I’m going to burn your flat down before they arrive. Put the fucking phone down” he spoke slowly. There was no ounce of amusement on his face anymore – only danger: his eyes pierced through you, confirming the honesty of his threat.

You gulped, hiding the phone back in your pocket; it must have calmed him down enough because his face relaxed visibly. Your own nervousness decreased in result.

“Okay, so… What are you going to do? Should I call a taxi instead? You can go anywhere, I will pay, just…”

“He said I can trust you” he fixated his gaze on you, as though judging whether you were, in fact, trust-worthy. You couldn’t stand this gaze. You glanced down. “I know it must be confusing to you, but I won’t stay here too long. I have no other place to go.”

You pressed your lips together.

“What about the person you were talking to just now? If you need to, I can let you call them again. Can’t they, dunno, pick you up and take you home, or something?”

He stared at you blankly.

“Check your phone.”

That took you aback, but you obediently reached to the device, opening it and entering the phone-calls history.

The last call, lasting not even half of a minute, had the caller’s ID – “Baekhyun” – on it. You let out a gasp, pressing the green button on the screen and putting it by your ear.

“You wait here,” you instructed the man – Chanyeol – and left the room, closing the door behind and entering the small kitchen, hoping that maybe even though the privacy of this solution was limited, you’d at least be able to focus without the man’s silhouette making you nervous with every move he made.

There was a few long beeps before the call was answered.

“Baekhyun?”

“[F/n]? Are you okay?”

You pressed your lips together; what did Chanyeol tell him – you had no idea. But Baekhyun didn’t seem nervous, his question was kind and heartwarming, just like he always was.

“I’m sorry, I went out for a moment and forgot to take the phone.” You were silent for a second. “Can you come here? I think, um… I need your help.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a little tied up at the moment, but I should be free in an hour, so I could be there, uh, in like two hours?”

Why didn’t he even mention the fact that his phone-call was answered by a stranger, you couldn’t tell. Maybe Chanyeol introduced himself as your friend and managed to do it smoothly enough so that Baekhyun had no suspicions?

But then, you thought, what if he was more dangerous than you estimated, what if Baekhyun coming here would only fuel him, cause him to become a threat to the both of you?

“[F/n]? Are you there?”

You exhaled shakily.

“Y-yes. No, never mind, I’m sorry for bothering you. Don’t come, I will handle this for now, just, uh, make sure to have your phone around, could you…?”

“Of course. I’m sorry, I really need to go now. But, um. Some things are not as bad as they look. Cheer up!” Easier said than done.

“Thank you, Baek. See you around.”

And the phone-call ended.

You put the phone back in your pocket – you didn’t know when you’d suddenly need it again. You stood where you were for a few long moments, hesitating. You knew you should go back to your room – talk to the stranger a bit more, find out more, learn what he expects and how can you get rid of him as fast as possible. After a few more seconds, you decided to take cookies resting in one of the drawers – not because you were being nice, but because they were there for way too long, and you didn’t even know why you bought them, you didn’t like this flavor at all.

With cookies in your hand, you entered your room and threw the pack at the man.

“Thanks” he mumbled, a bit taken aback by your sudden display of kindness.

“Okay. How long do you plan to stay here?

For the next few moments, rustling of the cookie bag was the only reply you could count on. But you waited patiently, and soon enough, Chanyeol spoke.

“Give me three days, alright?”

You let out a deep breath.

“Two.”

He stared back at you, slightly challenging.

“Three.”

You squinted your eyes at him, but before you could say something he continued.

“I can’t go anywhere until I recover. If I manage to get there sooner, I’ll just leave. But I can’t tell for sure how long it’ll take. You can tell I’m not in exactly the best state right now.” He moved just a little, exposing a bit of his chest – a deep purple bruise forming there, one you haven’t seen before, but it seemed to back up his point well enough.

“Alright. But you’re going to listen to what I say and not go out. I don’t want anyone to see you and think I’m engaged in… whatever the hell you’re involved in.” You waved your hand. “And you’re not going to ruin my flat when I’m not here, either. Got it?”

“I won’t cause trouble,” he tried to sound convincing.

You only laughed hysterically at that.

“Sure. Now get in the shower, you stink like a three days old barbecue.”

After your emotions fell down a little, you found yourself not half as mean as you were just minutes earlier. The defensive barrier of sarcasm and rudeness finally gave in and you were too tired to argue about anything, anyway. You even borrowed some big sized shirt and pants from an elderly lady that lived vis-à-vis (they belonged to her son who visited at times, she said). But it was clear that the man needed more than just a decent appearance and a heartfelt talk – first of all, he needed his injuries patched up, and there was quite a lot to patch up.

You couldn’t tell if any of his bones were broken. His breathing was labored as he sat there in a daze, drifting off as you tried to patch up his wounds. His skin was warm – warmer than average, and you assumed his body was trying to fight infections. But none of the wounds seemed infected, and he got most of the dust and ash out of them during the shower, giving you a clear sight of each as you disinfected them carefully – you had no idea, if there was any serious injury that demanded more attention than what you could give, but Chanyeol didn’t voice any concerns, quietly taking in your help, only flinching a little when some of the wounds were a bit more painful to touch.

Once, it turned out your first aid kit kept at home was not enough to patch up everything, and you ended up going out and buying a whole stash of bandages and some other supplies you found useful, including painkillers and some antibiotics, and eventually decided to add a pack of dissolvable vitamin pills; you weren’t sure what vitamins he’d need in his condition, but you figured that any would help at least a bit. Chanyeol took every pill you gave him, not questioning them, and drank the vitamins, and when you said he has to drink a lot of water now, he’d go and fill a cup with tap water every hour or so, and you were thankful that he wasn’t acting fussy for no reason. It gave you hope that his recovery would last only as much as necessary, without any delays caused by his recklessness.

For the night, you went to another neighbor and asked them for a spare mattress, since you were “having a guest over”. Luckily, they had one, and you said you’d give it back soon. Not wanting it to get dirty, you stubbornly decided to be the one using it for the time being. Chanyeol stayed on the couch instead, and, hours before you, he already decided to fall asleep, with his back facing you, your blanket too short to cover his entire, lengthy silhouette.

It must have been over midnight already. A couple of hours had passed ever since the mysterious stranger stumbled into your flat, and the variety of emotions that you felt through this time, from shock, objection, sympathy and until sweet acceptance left you so worn out that you were about to fall asleep where you were. That was when your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you reached to it in confusion. The caller’s ID was the same as what you’d expect any other day – you felt like at some point, Baekhyun became sincerely the only person you ever talked to. You glanced up at the huge silhouette in your bed, and then got up, walking quietly to the kitchen before pressing the green button.

“[F/n]?”

“Baekhyun? Aren’t you asleep?” You glanced at the clock, only confirming that it’s way beyond the both of your bedtime.

“Aren’t you? Did I wake you up?”

“Um, no.” You sat on the floor against the counter. “Is everything alright? I mean it is kinda late now.”

“I wanted to check on you. I’m sorry I didn’t really have time earlier, but you sounded distraught. I actually expected it to keep you up, you didn’t sleep too well lately either way,” he explained.

You sighed. Should you tell him all of this? Or should you just tell him you’re fine? Could you even handle this on your own? You felt as if, once Chanyeol leaves, and you would be left alone, you’d always question yourself about what exactly happened, and if you had no one to rely on in all of this, it would only get worse on you.

“I’m okay, but… There’s actually something going on. But I’m not sure if I can share it. I don’t want to bother you with it, either, but just, I want you to know that something’s up.”

“You want me to worry about you?”

“Kinda. I guess. I mean I don’t think I’m in danger…” Weren’t you? Hopefully. “But it’s sudden and I feel kinda lonely in it. So thank you for checking on me.”

“Of course. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? I want to help.” His calm tone didn’t match the way he usually spoke, but you appreciated it. Usually, Baekhyun’s way of cheering people up was to behave silly and try to get them to laugh. But he also knew when it wasn’t the right thing to do.

“Just check on me once in a while, okay?”

“Well, I hope to check on you tomorrow morning, on the lecture.”

Ah, right.

“Yeah. See you there, then. Go to sleep though, or you won’t wake up.”

He laughed gently.

“Sure. You too. Sleep well, [F/n].”

You were slightly concerned about leaving Chanyeol alone in your apartment for the hours to come, but he’d behaved nothing but gentle like a sheep, doing exactly what you told him to and not doing anything that could potentially cause damage, even if he had literally nothing else to do. He was still worn out and barely moved at all, in fact, you felt as though he wouldn’t cause much damage even if he wanted. Ultimately, you left him with food and medicine, giving him very simple but precise directions as to what to do until you came back.

“Do you have a spare phone?” he asked as you were about to leave to class.

“Spare phone?”

“If I needed anything. Just in case.”

You were thinking for a few moments.

“I mean, I have a landline phone in the hall, if you didn’t notice, but I’m not sure if it works, it’s on the flat’s owner. But I don’t think anything better than that, and I definitely don’t have time to check it now.” You glanced at the clock on the wall. Chanyeol only observed as you walked around the room, picking your last belongings. “I’ll leave you my number if you need anything. Please don’t do pranks on people when I’m gone.”

Despite leaving in a relative peace, it would be too optimistic to expect not to think about him the moment your classes started. Baekhyun sat next to you in the class, sending you glances once in a while, but since you arrived basically last minute, you didn’t have the actual time to talk just yet. You were distraught and it showed, and Baekhyun only waited until the class was finally over, turning in your direction and staring at you with concern written all over his face. The next class would be in the same room, so you had the comfort of not having to move from your spots.

“Are you okay?” he asked. You stared back, leaning chin on your palm.

“Yeah, I think so. Just tired.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?”

You contemplated it for a few moments.

You didn’t feel like you were that close with Baekhyun, as to engage him in everything that happened to you. You had no idea how he’d react. Yet, he was the closest person that you had. But that was, exactly, the reason why you didn’t want to accidentally ruin this friendship.

“I don’t know. I kinda do. But I don’t want to do the wrong thing.”

“I totally understand that, but you do look like you need to talk it out.”

You let out a deep sigh. What to do?

“Maybe next time. I feel like I need to be very careful with it.”

He nodded slowly.

“Alright.”

“Oh, by the way.” Something came to your mind, Baekhyun looked at you curiously. “You called me back earlier, but I didn’t pick the phone at that time, did someone else?” Did he talk to Chanyeol in the end? He didn’t really mention it. But you were sure that Chanyeol did say something into the speaker, right before you entered the room.

Baekhyun’s eyes widened ever so slightly, his hand, fiddling with a pen, freezing mid-air. He didn’t answer for a few seconds.

“…No, I don’t think so,” he eventually said. “Why? Did someone take your phone?”

Now it was your time to panic slightly.

“Um, just… someone was around, just wanted to know. But if nothing happened, then it’s alright.”

Baekhyun nodded slowly.

The room’s door opened, letting in the next teacher. It was still a few minutes left before the next class, but everyone already hushed a little, as if intimidated; the usual, but the professor sent everyone a reassuring nod, meaning that you still have a moment of freedom left.

But, you already felt torn out of context of the previous topic, and so seemed Baekhyun, focused on his studying notes, surprisingly (as for him) deciding to revise them before the class started.

The day passed by rather quickly – unable to focus on anything that the class consisted of, it turned out you dozed off more often than not. Before you realized, it was already afternoon, and it was the time to go back home – to whatever would you see, once you arrived.

You hoped everything would be okay. If the situation didn’t change in comparison to how you left it, then everything would be good, and it would probably stay this way till the three days’ period came to an end.

The weather was warm, way warmer than yesterday – it was actually very sunny, with close to no wind at all. Everything seemed still, like a pan just warming up before frying, warmth erupting from the ground warmed up through the whole day, never cooling down. You didn’t have air conditioning, but the walls of the apartment were always cold, so you knew it would still be cool in there, as long as you got there before frying yourself.

At least you hoped so; the staircase was so chill that you instantly put on your hoodie that you’ve been carrying in your hands until then. The coolness wasn’t as comfortable as you deemed it to be, you concluded.

Then, you opened the door, and it was anything but cold inside.

You panicked. The inside of your apartment felt warm like a kitchen during cooking – except there was no smell of food to accompany that. No smell of burning was present either, which calmed you down; did the stranger turn the heater on? For what? You marched inside, earning to find out what exactly happened.

You could hear the shower running right after you entered the apartment; you closed the door behind, but it quickly started feel like in a sauna, so you ran to open the windows in each of the rooms – it wasn’t all that colder outside, but it had to do. The air felt thick.

“Chanyeol?!” you called out, knocking on the bathroom’s door. No reply came. Was he taking a shower?

But the sound was still – the water ran without any sounds of splashes or disruptions, as if the showerhead was left in one place and nothing was moving underneath.

Despite the thoughts of what it could lead to, you decided to open the door.

The inside was a literal sauna, the wave of warmth made you dizzy, but the sight in front of you made you dismiss the discomfort right away. Your breath hitched, a nervous sensation filling your stomach.

Chanyeol was sitting in the shower, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. His clothes were still on, but they were soaked through, and since he didn’t close the shower’s door, the water was splattered everywhere around. And it was hot, terribly hot.

You got to him in less than a second, reaching to turn the shower off – the water running was cold, but… only until it touched him. The heat radiated from him, too strong to be cooled down by the water; too strong even for you to touch – you hissed when your fingers brushed over his skin, and moved your hand away.

The man finally opened his eyes, glancing weakly at you, but, as much as you wanted to ask questions, you were completely speechless. The heat made your head spin.

“What’s going on?!” you uttered out.

He stared at you for a few painfully long seconds.

“Get out of here,” he finally managed to say. “Get out. Hurry.”

Before you managed to form a response, his shirt suddenly took on fire, making you let out a shriek and scramble backwards. The room filled with steam, water not warming up anymore – it was boiling, turning into vapor even before it managed to touch him. Too hot, it was too hot, you felt like you were burning alive.

Chanyeol let out a cry when the fire started to spread over his silhouette, and you felt like there was nothing you can do – too hot, even the water couldn’t put him out, not strong enough to fight against the amount of heat, evaporating mid-air.

You screamed when you realized that the nearby towel took on the fire as well, and except for heat, it was the smoke that started to bother you, not tearing into your lungs just yet, but making you realize that the longer you stayed, the more dangerous it would become.

But how could you leave?!

Through the fire and smoke spreading around, you couldn’t see Chanyeol’s face anymore, and it terrified you.

He was burning, he was literally burning alive in front of your eyes. God, if there was one, at least one thing you could do to help him – you would not hesitate. But the fear froze you to the ground, and you weren’t able to think straight, so even if there was the smallest thing you could actually do – it was out of your reach.

Completely stunned and terrified, you didn’t hear the sound behind you; it appeared out of nowhere, and then a sudden grasp on your shoulder pulled you backwards, throwing you on the floor of your hall.

“Stay back.”

Someone ran inside of the bathroom, the door shutting behind them.

You expected noise – any sort of sound, a scream, maybe, or things flying around, anything. You stared at the door, hearing the sound of fire, air still hot and filled with smoke, although dispersed now that you weren’t in the bathroom anymore.

And, despite everything that you’d expected, after barely a few seconds, everything started to die out.

The sounds decreased, the smoke dissolved in the air as it wasn’t spreading anymore. The temperature started decreasing, so suddenly that you felt dizzy, too dizzy to move; you half-laid there on the floor, your arms trembling, but stuck in place, supporting you – even if you wanted to lie down, you wouldn’t find it in yourself to.

The temperature must have still been over twenty degrees Celsius, when you started to shiver from sudden cold.

And it only got colder. Colder and colder, the temperature continued to drop.

It must have been around ten degrees, when the door to the bathroom finally opened again.

The man standing in the door had all your attention, keeping you from looking past him, fearful of what you’d see. Was he alive? Was he burned to ashes? What happened? Why was it cold? Who was this man?

His cat-like eyes stared at you for a few seconds, a bit curiously, but with concern as well. He smiled gently.

“Hi there. My name is Minseok.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“[F/n],” you uttered out.

And then the world went black.

His consciousness disappeared and came back too often for him to get a solid grasp of reality.

One moment, everything was okay. The next – he was burning up. Hot, hotter, heat spreading from his core till the tips of his fingers.

Hot, too hot to stand it. He needed to cool down.

The moments in between the few memories that he had were unknown. He remembered reaching the phone in the hall, but he didn’t remember what he did after. He remembered sitting under the shower, and the cold water splashing from the shower head gave him some relief, at least for some time, before it became useless.

And then he saw that girl come in, and he panicked. Everything was a blur, but knowing she’s there made it only worse. Whatever happened, he couldn’t hurt her.

He told him he can trust her. So Chanyeol couldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

The next thing he remembered was the fire around him, and he wanted to cry.

It’s happening again. Oh, god. Oh, no. Not here, not again.

Then, again – nothing. Did he say something? He heard his own voice in the distance, but that, also, was a blur.

The pain of his body burning alive was so well-known by now that it didn’t bother him anymore. But, hell, was he scared. What would he destroy now? Whom would he hurt? Would he survive this? Would he find his way out?

Or would he just burn altogether, turn into ashes?

Suddenly, he felt cold – distant at first, but he could feel it there, something breaking through the inferno that he was stuck in. Deeper, deeper, finally reaching his chest. He wanted to cry in relief, but his eyes were dry, any moisture having evaporated a while ago. And he was too weak to move, his consciousness dissolving again.

Appearing again. It was almost cool, it’s so relieving, so good, no more heat, no more hell.

And it’s gone.

The moment he woke up again, a familiar silhouette stood above his own. It was cold, although his nerves became numb at this stage. So good, not to feel that pain anymore, even if it meant nothing.

“Chanyeol? Can you hear me?”

Minseok crouched down in front of him, touching his shoulder to get his attention. It was unnecessary – he was all in Chanyeol’s range of sight anyway.

“I’m here” he confirmed; his voice sounded terrible, probably due to his throat being drier than ever.

“Can you get up?” the question came.

“Have a wild guess.”

“Then stay here. Will bring you water.”

He glanced over his head, but the bathroom devices had been either burned to ashes or melted. The tile around him was burned too – only at the surface, though, at the very least, not risking damage to the construction. Everything else, though, was burned, melted, destroyed – the few remaining items were the door that didn’t manage to catch the fire just yet, but neither the drawers or the washing machine were that lucky. The damage would be costly and take a while to fix – he only hoped that the pipes didn’t suffer much damage.

The smoke already mostly dissolved, as the windows must have been opened outside, he noticed now – the fresh air coming in fast, soothing his lungs.

The pain came back as his adrenaline started to run out; the burns on his body were incomparable to what they should be with the temperature he was put under, but they were still there – he could stand fire far better than anyone else, but he wasn’t completely immune. The temperature wasn’t too harmful, but the fire always caressed his skin, sinking in and leaving the nasty black layers afterwards, at least on the outside. It was ridiculous – the damage to his own body was enough to taunt him, but never enough to kill him, even though, drowning in the inferno, he had so many times wished for it to happen.

Chanyeol didn’t really want to die. The wish to burn completely was there, but, at the very core, the man just wanted for the hell to end. Whether such a death would be a justice served for his sins, or – quite an opposite – a promise of freedom from his own torment, he couldn’t tell.

“Here.”

Minseok came back with a bottle of water and basically pushed it into his mouth. Chanyeol didn’t hesitate before drinking it up in one go.

“You need to wait here for a moment. I need to check on that girl, she’s a bit more fragile than you.”

He didn’t answer. The bottle of water was gone in less than a minute, but he waited patiently, trying to look through the entry, see what’s happening in there – is she okay? His eyes widened ever so slightly when he noticed Minseok kneel down. It meant she was on the floor… Then, he was picking her up. Was she unconscious?

Oh, god. Oh, no.

He wanted to cry again, but his body was still too dry to manage that much.

And so, he decided to lose consciousness again.

You opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling blankly.

It was the same ceiling that you very well knew, one that you’d been waking up under every day in the last month. There was nothing peculiar in it, and yet, seeing it stunned you for the first few moments – that was, until the memories of what happened came flooding back to you, and you sat up abruptly, looking around the room.

A man sat by the table in the corner, doing something on the phone. His cat-like eyes scanned the screen, so he must have not noticed that you’re awake. However, you soon realized, he was the only other person in the room.

“Where is Chanyeol?!” you almost yelled, your throat uncomfortably dry.

The man glanced up at you, scanning your body reactions, especially as you got up. There was a slight frown on his face, until his features eased down and he put the phone down, lifting his hands in a calming gesture.

“He’s okay, a bit roughed up, but he’ll be okay.”

“Where is he?” you asked, wrapping arms around yourself. You were confused and lost; your head was pounding.

“Our friend came to pick him up. He’ll stay with us, so you don’t need to worry. I’m going to go too, just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He watched you intently for the next few moments, but when you didn’t say anything, he spoke again. “Your bathroom is not really in the best state right now, and it would probably be the best for you not to ask for insurance. If they come here to check what happened, I can’t tell what their conclusions may be, but it’s not likely to look like an accident. We’ll pay you back for renovations, but you probably want to stay over at someone else’s place until it’s fixed,” he spoke calmly, not taking his eyes off you.

You nodded slowly. It was too much to proceed, but the bathroom was the last thing on your mind right now.

“What happened, though? I mean… What was that?”

Of course, you wouldn’t let that go – he hoped you’d be too stunned to ask, and it would just be left as it was.

“Don’t worry about it, it won’t happen again.”

“Was this what happened in that old factory? Three days ago?”

He stared at you knowingly, fiddling with the phone back in his hand, spinning it against the table’s surface.

“Don’t think about it. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it’s only as much as I can tell you” he spoke, finally breaking his gaze away, standing up. “It’s the time for me.”

“No. Wait. You need to tell me more” you objected, standing up right after. Your legs felt like a jelly, but you managed to stand straight before the man could run to catch you from falling – from his body language, you could tell he was about to. Did you really look that weak?

He sighed, pushing the phone into his pocket.

“It’s really not something I can share with anyone. I’m sorry that you had to suffer from it, but you really have nothing to do with it.”

“What do you mean, I have nothing to do with it?!” You stood in his way before he managed to leave the room. He could easily push you away, but he waited patiently. “When he came here, yesterday, he said someone told him he can trust me. I don’t know who it was. But I’m not just a random person in this, I need to know what’s going on.”

Minseok frowned at your words.

“I’m sorry, but I had no idea this is the case. I don’t know who could have told him that.�� He stared at you for a few moments. “Leave me your phone number, if I find out anything, I’ll let you know. I can’t do anything more now, though, sorry.”

You exhaled shakily, but finally accepted what you’ve been told. Minseok gave you his phone for you to put your number in.

And that was, in fact, all that could be done at that moment. Exchanging rather short good-byes, Minseok was gone, and you were left alone with your own thoughts.

And, hell, were there many of them.

Please, reblog if you enjoyed!

#exo chanyeol #exo fanfiction #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol x reader #exo x reader #park chanyeol #chanyeol #vg: fanfiction #vg: exo

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ikaroux · 3 years ago

Text

Xiao: Always (part 2) (EN)

f!reader

The Japanese dubbing of Kirito (Sword art online), helped me a lot to imagine how Xiao's emotions would be expressed.

The ost that inspired me a lot for most of the scenes:

Ori and the will of the wisps: Fading of the Light and The story of Niwen (The ost in general fits Xiao perfectly <3)

Masterlist

Part 1

You had been in Liyue for several months now for your research. You had met several people there, some of whom had turned into real friendships. Hu Tao, Ganyu and the lovely Qiqi were the only girls with whom you had formed a real friendship and then there was Mr. Zhongli with whom you liked to talk a lot.

But above all you met Xiao, a taciturn young man with a cold look in his eyes. After some research, you learned who he really was, a follower protecting Liyue at the risk of his life. He was also known as the last surviving Yaksha, fighting day and night against the emanations of the ancient evil gods killed by the Geo Archon.

Zhongli, who had revealed to you who he really was, often spoke to you about Xiao. Sometimes he would ask you to bring him some medicine specially designed for him to relieve the pain that was eating him up inside.

This was not a big problem for you, as you were staying at the Wangshu Inn. It was perfectly located in the centre of Liyue, making it easier for you to get to different research sites. Zhongli had explained to you that this inn was a front, built mainly to relieve Xiao a little from his eternal burden.

Since your meeting with the adept, you had never dared to call him, for fear of disturbing him. You simply left Zhongli's small gifts in his flats, placed prominently on the table in the centre of the room.

A gift... you had wanted to give him one for some time, but not knowing his tastes, it was difficult to decide. What if he doesn't like it? What if he got mad at you? What if... You then thought of the innkeeper in Wangshu who had known Xiao for a while, she must have known a thing or two about the follower's tastes!

After consulting Verr Goldet on what Xiao liked, she taught you how to prepare the young man's favourite dish. So you prepared tofu with almonds once or twice a week as a gift to him. But even so, he never deigned to show himself to you again.

Yet Xiao was never far from you, always hidden in the shadows watching you, protecting you from the dangers that lurked.

The bond he felt between you and him had never disappeared. Near you, all the pain, all the suffering he felt disappeared. He knew that you were human, so fragile, so fleeting compared to him who had lived for millennia, yet in his eyes you were a true goddess. The night he saw you surrounded by this halo of light, his world was turned upside down. Of course he had discussed this with his master, Morax, or rather Zhongli as he liked to be called from now on.

Xiao asked him during one of their conversations:

"I don't understand, I can never take my eyes off her and my heart - he placed his hand on his chest, clutching the white tunic he was wearing - hurts when I lose sight of her for even a few seconds. I don't understand... Sir Zhongli, I don't understand..."

His voice often broke at such moments. Zhongli then placed his hand on the follower's shoulder, a gentle smile on his face.

"Talk to him and you will finally understand. "he would say to her each time.

"I can't... If I stay around her too long... the darkness around me will eventually engulf her too. "

The sadness in Zhongli's eyes matched the sadness in Xiao's. The adept would often leave without the answer he so eagerly awaited, going to the balcony of the inn to sit on the railing and gaze at the stars. When his gaze turned to his room, more precisely to the small round wooden table in the centre, he was looking for proof of your presence. Almost every day you would leave him an offering, medicine, the almond tofu he loved so much, a flower, a mineral or an artefact you had found on your expeditions. Every little gift you gave him made him forget his torments for a short while, savouring the joy he felt at the time. He treasured every item you gave him, carefully stored in a small gold box encrusted with jade.

When the moon was high in the sky, Xiao would sometimes go to your room, passing by your balcony to see if you were sleeping. Sometimes he would go inside the moonlit room to see your sleeping face. He thought you were terribly beautiful, he had never been so fascinated by anyone, let alone a mortal. He would sometimes tuck a strand of your hair back behind your ear, slightly disturbing your sleep, and you would wrinkle your nose with a groan, causing him to back away hastily.

When Xiao was sure you were still asleep, he would take the opportunity to give you a gift of his own, placed on your bedside table.

As he did every night, he would end up sitting on the roof of your balcony watching for any threat to you.

By the time the sun came up, Xiao was already gone. When you woke up, you would find objects that were not there the day before. It could be a crystal nucleus or sometimes a Qingxin flower, which made you smile every time. You kept all the gifts he gave you as a treasure.

Today you had to go to Mondstadt to visit your friend Lisa, whom you had met in Sumeru. She had come one year to visit her former teachers, introducing herself to the students in the class. The two of you had talked a lot, creating a bond of friendship that you had maintained through correspondence.

In your last exchanges, she expressed a wish to see you, which you gladly accepted. You had planned to stay there for a week, so it was not surprising that you were preparing some things to take with you.

Even though your protector never showed up in front of you, at least not since that night when he gave you his name, you wanted to leave him a letter to explain that you would be back in Liyue in a week.

Before leaving, you left him a plate of tofu with almonds, your letter carefully placed next to the plate.

You didn't think that the wind would blow your letter away from him before he had even read it.

Xiao was accompanying Aether and two other companions for the day. They were to help him confront creatures once sealed in an ancient temple near the nine pillars of Cuijue Slope. The battle was long and difficult, but in the end they managed to exterminate the monsters, allowing Aether to retrieve the treasure that lay deep in the ruins. Xiao hurried back to the Wangshu Inn, feeling a bottomless pit forming inside him. He had been feeling uneasy for a while, a part of him wanted to make sure you were okay. When he arrived at his flat, he saw that you had left him a plate of tofu with almonds, and he took a bite, although he was too nervous to really enjoy them properly.

Xiao put his hand over his face in great pain.

His chest hurt terribly, the voices in his head tortured him again and his body seemed to be chained by the darkness inside him. Why was this? His karma hadn't weighed so heavily on him since he... since he... had met you.

He exhaled loudly, a sudden fear filling his body, making his hands tremble. Without further questioning, he quickly disappeared through his anemo vision and landed in your room. It was pitch black and looked horribly empty. The books usually scattered around your room were gone, your things were gone, your wardrobe was empty.

"No... no... don't go... (Y/n) don't go..."

His voice trembled in shock as his eyes still searched for traces of your presence.

"(Y/n)..."

Nothing. There was nothing. Nothing left. You were gone.

He couldn't even feel your presence on Liyue's land.

Had something happened to you? What if you had been attacked by monsters? The thought terrified him. He thought of your sleeping face, so peaceful. He thought of the promise he had made to himself to protect you.

Your absence was as painful to him as the day Aether told him Rex Lapis was dead. He couldn't bear it.

Xiao vowed to find you again and if you accepted him, he would stay by your side, he would not run away again.

He would listen to you sing again.

He searched for you for seven long days, which was a real physical and psychological torture for him. Aether, worried about his friend, helped him in his search, informing Zhongli, Ganyu and Hu Tao of your disappearance and the state in which the follower was.

Xiao always carried one of the gifts you had given him, holding on to it in the hope of finding you safe and sound.

With his mask over his face and his spear in hand, he slaughtered every hilichurl camp, hoping to find some trace of you, something that would prove to him that you were still alive. Disappointment after disappointment, the anger and hatred grew inside him every day, struggling to control it. He was leaving behind a pool of blood, soon he would sink into madness, feeling the sting of the karmic chains that made him sink a little deeper. How could he have formed such a strong bond with someone that he lost control?

"Xiao, we're going to find her. "

Zhongli's reassuring hand rested on the follower's shoulder.

Xiao had not removed his mask, but the former Geo Archon could still see tears of pain flowing from his eyes. His hand moved from his shoulder to the top of the young man's head. He knew what Xiao was going through, after all he too had lost loved ones in the past.

A varnished lily flower suddenly appeared under Xiao's nose. Ganyu held it out to him with a thin smile on his face. The Yaksha, who had watched you for a long time, knew that this flower was your favourite, many times he had seen you studying it, drawing it, smelling it, admiring it...

He could clearly see your face beaming as you drew it, singing a Sumeru tune.

He slowly grasped the flower that the young woman was holding out to him with renewed hope.

You had been leaving Lisa for a few hours now, promising her and your new friends that you would return to see them soon. You were anxious to get to the Wangshu Inn to rest. You missed your friends in Liyue and the absence of the Yaksha warrior around you left your heart empty.

You knew that he was never far from you. You knew that at night he sometimes stroked your hair, thinking you were asleep. You knew how soft his eyes were when he watched you draw.

You knew that he loved to listen to you sing.

Your lips curled upwards, happy at the idea of finding his presence. For this occasion you had grabbed an anemo crystal core which you intended to offer his.

When you reached the border between Mondstadt and Liyue, the atmosphere suddenly seemed heavy. You could not hear the birds singing, nor the wind cradling the trees.

Time seemed to stand still.

Alerted, you quickened your pace, crossing the wooden bridge that separated you from the shore.

The sudden sound of a branch breaking made you jump. You looked towards the source of the noise, finding yourself face to face with a Brutorocheux chief surrounded by some Brutoshamans and common Brutocollinus.

Your voice and body trembled.

"Why are they here? There have never been so many monsters on the border..."

The Brutocollinus came forward, threatening, it screamed, the breath knocking you to the ground. The smaller ones stepped forward, weapons in hand, while the Brutoshamans chanted their incantations.

Fear froze you in place, you were not a warrior, far from it. Your pupils dilated with fear and shook as the Brutoshaman ran towards you, fist in the air, ready to crush you. By reflex you had grown brambles around you to protect yourself.

But the creature in front of you was of a geo nature, impervious to the little thorns in your plants. Your trembling hand rose before you, summoning a flower capable of projecting poison, but again the monster crushed your hopes as did the flower beneath its feet.

"As long as you are in Liyue, I will protect you. Call me and I'll be there in a second."

Fear choked you, tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you remembered the words of the man you loved.

Xiao.

The sight of his gentle smile as he looked at you, thinking you hadn't noticed his presence.

Xiao.

The tender look in his eyes as he listened to you singing hidden behind a tree.

Xiao...

His hands savouring the feel of your hair between his fingers as you slept.

"XIAO! "

The moment you shouted his name, a gust of wind swept through the area. Blows rained down before you, and the brutocollinus and brutoshamans were the first to perish.

There he was, leaping to an inhuman height, a mask hiding his face and a menacing black aura covering him completely. The spear he always carried with him was pointed at the enemy as the Yaksha fell violently to the ground, sending out anemo illusions from his weapon that skewered the creature. He repeated his move once more, shattering its shell, before finishing it off by charging it with extreme speed. The Brutorocheux fell heavily to the ground, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

Xiao moved his hand in front of his face, making his mask disappear, and then planted his spear on the ground. He ran towards you over the brambles you had created, not caring about the thorns that tore his legs. He knelt beside you, his eyes filled with terror and concern.

You looked into his eyes, shocked and trembling.

Finally you exploded, screaming and crying now that it was all over. You fell into his arms, your head resting in the crook of his neck, partially muffling your screams and tears.

He had found you. At last...

His heart broke free from its chains, relieved to see you safe and sound.

He felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest, so strong was it beating.

When he had reached you after your call and had seen you surrounded by monsters, monsters that were there because of him, because of the slaughter he had made in the camps of his creatures, the rage had risen in him. If you had been hurt because of him, he would never forgive himself.

He would never have forgiven himself.

He was surprised by your sudden embrace, not really knowing how he should react. What did humans do in such moments?

He raised his arms hesitantly, placing his hands gently on your back. Seeing that you didn't reject him, he hugged you a little tighter, soothing his soul and body with your warmth.

"Don't disappear again..."

His voice was husky, vibrant, emotion knotting his throat. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling the scent of the flowers that covered you.

"Xiao..."

Your tears continued to fall as your hands clutched at his clothes.

He surprised you by planting a kiss on your neck. He left his face hidden there, not wanting to be seen so vulnerable. His trembling hands around you were more than enough to describe the emotions that were currently running through him.

When your tears stopped, his hands gently grasped your shoulders, pulling you back to get a better look at your face. He wiped away the tears that remained on your cheeks before placing the palm of his hand on them, caressing you with his thumb. Your hand joined his, closing your eyes to savour the sensation.

His forehead came to rest against yours, exhaling a shaky breath.

The happiness of finally having her so close to you involuntarily activated your dendro vision. Varnished lily flowers bloomed around you, and firefly-like particles of light swirled near your faces.

"Stay close to me. Always. "

"Always. "

Xiao didn't know exactly what he was doing as he tilted his head to your lips. The only thing he knew was that he wanted this connection badly.

The bond between you was stronger than any contract, he loved you, by the archons, he loved you more than anyone else.

An emotion so human but so beautiful...

Your lips... tasted like a sweet dream.

Bonus n°1:

"Ah, there they are! "

Paimon yelled to his companions, pointing at you and Xiao. Zhongli was the first to arrive and observed the scene unfolding before his eyes.

"XIAO! "

Paimon shouted, his voice carrying to you. Xiao parted violently from your lips, falling on his butt in the process, his face completely red with embarrassment.

Aether, who had arrived just after Zhongli, grabbed the little fairy in his arms, planting his hand over her mouth to silence her. Hu Tao and Ganyu were waving at you, reassured that you were okay. Xiao had completely forgotten that they had come with them.

He knew that with that chatty fairy and Hu Tao not far away, the rest of the day was going to be hell for him. He wanted to grab you in his arms and run away from his troubles, but when his gaze turned to Zhongli's, his heart was suddenly lighter with a burden. The gentle smile of his master and the kindly gaze he projected upon him broke the last remaining chains of doubt within him.

Bonus #2:

Xiao had offered you on the way back the varnished Lily flower that Ganyu had given him earlier, hanging it in your hair. You walked behind your companions towards the Wangshu Inn, laughter and loud discussions (too loud for his taste) were going on.

Xiao stood very close to you without physically touching you. You never took your eyes off his face, which he noticed. He abruptly turned his head in the opposite direction, the tips of his ears glowing crimson, forcing an affectionate smile on your face.

After a few minutes of silent walking between the two of you, he finally asked you a question.

"Why did you leave? -He looked at you again, his eyes full of emotion-"I thought you were gone forever...or worse, dead. "

His voice trembled at the thought, making your eyes widen. In a comforting gesture, you grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. The gesture surprised him, he was not used to physical (or emotional!) contact.

"Didn't you read my letter? "

Xiao blinked, once, twice, three times.

"What letter? "

"The one I left on the table next to the tofu dish. "

Xiao's face became totally impassive. He tried to piece together a visual image of his room in his mind, seeing your dish on his table very clearly, but no matter how hard he concentrated, no letter came to him.

"There was no letter. "

"Oh... Maybe it was blown away then?"

Xiao remained silent as you explained that you had gone to see a friend in Mondstadt. He listened to you without really listening, an array of emotions passing through his eyes. He needed someone to blame, anyone he could vent his anger and frustration on.

The wind... The wind...

A malevolent smile spread across his face and his amber eyes glowed with a menacing gleam.

He brought his hand up to his face, a gesture he made to reveal his Yaksha mask.

His hoarse voice whispered dangerously:

"Barbatos..."

Further on, in Mondstadt, Venti felt a shiver run through his body, freezing him in place.

#genshin xiao #xiao genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact #genshin icons #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #xiao imagines #xiao x reader #genshin xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #xiao fluff

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stained-glasswriting · 3 years ago

Text

Sweet Kitty

Hybrid!Park Jimin X Reader

Word count: 4.5k

AN: ok guys this ones gonna be a little bit of a slowburn. The classic reader finds a hybrid and takes them home. I hope you like!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had already been a long day when you got distracted while dragging yourself home. Your day started with your only 8 am class of the week, you were late of course, keeping you from your daily caffeine dose. It all got worse when you left your college campus for the diner you worked at. Immediately upon entrance, you were bowled over by a coworker practically begging you to take the last three hours of her shift. Agreeing to take the shift from her, you set about getting ready for that was now a closing shift.

Of course by the time you flick off the lights and lock the door, it was dark and started to drizzle. Pulling your jacket tighter around yourself, you step out into the street, starting the 5 block trek to your apartment.

The first thing that caught your attention as you neared your home, was a quiet whimpering. Quickly you stop in your tracks, looking around the damp area. For a moment the darkened street was silent, before a barely audible whine came from a dark expanse of alley jutting from the street to your left.

Staying in the entrance of the alley you peer in looking for the creature making the noises. In the dim lighting you could make out the sight of a pair of dumpsters surrounded by trash, sitting a few feet from a brick wall dead end. In front of them laid what looked like a pile of cardboard boxes. One of the boxes had something dark dangling out of it. At first you couldn't see anything that could be making that noise.

Another whimper had you taking a couple steps towards the wet boxes in front of you.

“Hello?” you called out into the dark tentatively. There was no response, but the quiet whimpers started up again.

You shoot a glance back out into the street considering your options. Going wandering down dark alleys in the middle of the night was a bad idea, but what if someone was hurt.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you slowly pick your way down the alleyway following the noises. All of your senses on red alert, you had to be careful. As you neared the boxes, you quickly realized that a dirty cat tail was hanging limply out of one of them. The stiffness in your shoulders leaks out as the realization that it's probably an animal that needs help.

Crouching, you peek into the dirty damp cardboard, fully expecting to see a kitty curled up in it. Instead you end up coming face to face with a hybrid.

You slap your hand over your mouth, effectively cutting off any noise you were about to make in surprise. Hybrids aren't exceptionally rare, but really only well off families could afford them. There weren't a lot of them just wandering the streets so this was unusual.

This one didn't exactly look like he’d come from a nice house though, or at least hadn’t been in one for a while. His clothes were dirty and appeared threadbare in places. They had run ragged around his wrists and ankles. Blood dripped down from his shoulder and down his arm staining the fabric a dark red. A long matted tail hung out from underneath where he was laying on the cardboard.

Your eyes trailed up the man’s skinny figure, up to his thin face. A fairly large cut was opened above his eyebrow, slowly weeping blood down his overly pronounced cheekbones. The cat hybrid’s eyes were closed but fluttered lightly as he made small noises in the back of his throat. His dirt covered ears pinned back in what you assumed to be pain.

Through all the dirt, blood, and obvious malnutrition, he looked small and almost soft. Honestly, how could anyone do this to him? It took all of two seconds to make your mind up to help him. You gave the hybrid a long moment of consideration, before you took the last few steps to reach the boxes. Leaning near you lightly touched his shoulder.

The effect was instantaneous. His body flinched away from you violently. The hybrid’s ears flipped forward to face you then immediately laid flat back again. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide with fear, they seemed unfocused, and whipped around wildly looking for danger. Another heart wrenching whine was released from his throat.

Pulling back you murmur soft comforting phrases, trying to assure the terrified hybrid. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep shuddering breath. The cat hybrid’s eyes finally seem to focus on you, scouring your face in an instant.

After a moment of staring between you, he seems to come to some sort of decision. He slides his eyes closed once more, and bends his head towards you seemingly resigned to allowing you to do as you wish. He’d seem almost calm if it weren't for the shaking of his form, and the ragged breaths that tore up his throat.

It’s cold out, and his injuries needed to be tended to. If you left him here, he wouldn't last much longer, you’d have to bring him home with you.

“Alright, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” you whispered to him, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. You reach for his arm again, this time gently grabbing it. Your fingers wrap all the way around the thin limb.

Lightly you start pulling him out of the wet cardboard. You were afraid that he might resist or lash out at you, but he didn’t seem to have any fight left in him. He just sort of resigned himself to whatever you were intending to do with him.

You were able to pull the hybrid into sort of a crouching position. Several of the movements caused deeper, more draw out whines to escape him. The hybrid didn’t stop you while you placed your other hand on his elbow, pulling him into an upright position. The hybrid leaned on you heavily, his legs wobbling as you held him up.

The first couple of steps were difficult, and shaky as you murmured encouragement and praises to the man. He limped heavily to one side showing you there was something wrong with the leg. After about a minute he seemed a little more inclined to help, and didn’t weigh on you quite as heavily.

It took some time, but eventually you were able to get the hybrid to the front steps of your apartment building, and inside.

The light of the lobby showed just how much blood and dirt covered the man, and his clothes. Some of it had started to dry and harden to him. Other spots still oozed the thick red fluid. Underneath it all you could now see just how pale and exhausted he looked.

Thankfully it was late enough that the secretary for the building had left for the night leaving the lobby empty. This allowed you to avoid any strange conversations as you pulled the hybrid past the front desk and to the elevators behind it. Without setting the man down, you hit the button with your elbow.

You're lucky once more, with how late it is the elevator only took a couple of moments before opening with a ding. It wasn’t hard to pull him into the contraption, but as you stop to hit the button for your floor, you could feel him start to shake harder.

“We are almost there.” you assure the hybrid trying to calm him some.

A few minutes later you’re pulling the partially unresponsive hybrid into your two bedroom apartment. Bypassing your living room and kitchen, you drag him down the hallway into our bathroom. Carefully you settle him down on the floor, and lean him against the tub wall.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You told him, and spun on our heel leaving in search of the first aid kit you kept in the hallway closet. While in there you also snagged a couple of extra towels and a whole box of Band-Aids.

By the time you make it back to the bathroom, the hybrid appears a little more conscious. He was sitting a bit straighter, his tail clutched between his hands as he messed with the fur. His eyes wide with fear blinked up at you when the door opened.

“I’m just here to help, I promise,” you reassured the hybrid gently. Slowly you crouch in front of him trying to get a better view of his forehead. You could tell it was still sort of bleeding, but with all the dirt and dried blood it was difficult to tell where the cut started. You’d likely have to get him cleaned up before you could do anything meaningful about his wounds. He flinched violently when you carefully pressed a clean cloth on the wound, but didn’t move otherwise. After a few minutes you’re at least able to get the bleeding to stop.

Tearing your eyes from his injured forehead, you glance down, locking eyes with the man. He studied your face with an intensity that made you squirm slightly. You could tell he was sort of sizing you up. It was as if he expected you to do something, and was ready for whatever it was.

“Well, it’ll be difficult to do anything about your injuries till we get you cleaned up. Do you want to take a shower?” you asked the hybrid in front you.

His body jerked in surprise, his eyes somehow widening even further, apparently that was not what he had been expecting of you. He refused to speak but did respond with a stilted nod that left him wincing in pain.

Pushing yourself up, you cross to the front of the tub. He listens intently as you explain the different knobs, and what soaps to use.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask, lightly helping the man into a standing position. He quickly shook his head in response.

“I’ll bring you some fresh clothes.” you told him as you started towards the door. Warm fingers snaked around your wrist lightly. He pulled enough to stop you without actually pulling you back. This time when you turned to look at him, he kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

“Thank you.” he said quietly, his voice raspy almost like it was overused.

“Of course!” You immediately exclaimed with a nod. The hybrid looked up just in time to see a sweet smile come across your face. He released your hand then, allowing you to finally leave your bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing you did was change out of your now dirty work clothes, and into some comfortable pajamas. Looking through your closet, you pulled out some basketball shorts your ex left, and an oversized t-shirt. With a pair of scissors you cut hole in the back of them around where the hybrid’s spine would end for his tail. After a second thought, you grabbed a sweatshirt you wore often. It was your largest, even though he wasn’t much taller than you and was basically just skin and bones, you thought he deserved something soft and comfortable.

Carefully you slid the bathroom door open just enough to shove the clothes in. some steam escaped, showing just how hot he had the water at.

Your next task was getting some food into the poor boy. He looked so skinny, you should go with something that wouldn’t be too heavy on his stomach. Flitting around the kitchen, you get some soup started on the stove. It was just a simple chicken noodle soup recipe. Chicken, noodles, stock, and some vegetables you had chopped up originally for stir fry all went into the pot. Humming you bounced between the stove, and setting two places at the table.

Lost in your own world, you missed the sound of the shower turning off, then later the sound of the door opening. You got quite the fright when you turned, silverware in hand, and a now clean hybrid was standing in front of you wearing the shorts and shirt you left him staring at you.

A startled squeak slipped past your lips when you jumped. At the noise the man’s ears pinned back, and his eyes dropped back to the floor.

“It’s ok, you just startled me.” you reassured him, hands raised. “Are you hungry?” he responded with a short single nod. With a happy smile you went back to setting the table, and finishing the soup.

Before long, you were ladling the hot liquid into two bowls you put on the tale. Carefully you place the pot onto the pad in the middle of the table, and sit at one end looking expectantly up at the hybrid. He still stood in the doorway, head down, but now his tail sat in his hands as he carded his fingers through the fur. The sweatshirt you left him was slung over his shoulder.

After the shower, his fur proved to be much fluffier than you had expected. It was a lovely light tan that turned almost cream color in some spots without all that dirt covering it. Unfortunately there still appeared to be some tangles among the fluff, but those could be brushed out later.

“Aren't you going to sit down and have some?” you asked, confused as to why he continued to stand there,

“Sit… at the table?” his head snapped up to stare at you as the words tumbled from his open mouth. In his seemingly shocked state you were able to finally get a good look at his face now washed.

The hybrid was pale, and his cheeks sunken in from malnutrition. The wound over his eyebrow had stopped bleeding but the area around it was all red and angry. You could tell he’d been on the street for a while, and was exhausted if the circles underneath his eyes were anything to go by.

Despite all of this, the male across from you was handsome. He had nice full lips and high cheekbones underneath wide brown eyes, his hair, now clean, was a lovely light blonde color. Although it was shaggy, a little tangled, and definitely in need of a cut. Then at the top of his head stood a pair of fluffy ears with the same coloration as his tail.

After a long moment of staring between the two of you, he limped over and pulled out the chair opposite of you, and hesitantly sat down in it. He glanced up at you again, maybe waiting for you to start. With another reassuring smile, you grab your spoon and dig in. Once the first spoonful hit your mouth, he snatched up his spoon and started in on his food too.

The first couple of spoonfuls he started slow, but after that he tucked in with much more gusto. He made happy little noises as he dug into the hot broth. It took him only minutes to finish off the bowl, even tipping it back to get the rest of the liquid. His ears drooped slightly as he sat back and looked into his empty bowl forlornly.

“If you’re still hungry, have some more, there’s plenty.” you told him with a giggle, gesturing to the pot.

“N-no, I’m alright.” he stuttered out. The strange flick his tail did, and the look in his eyes told you differently.

“It’s ok, there’s plenty,” you responded, standing to ladle more into his bowl. This time he wasted no time tucking in and scarfing it down.

“So, my name is (Y/N), what’s yours?” you asked politely. You thought it was about time that you learned something about what was going on.

“My name?” he pondered for a moment before answering. “I’m Park Jimin,” he gave a short bow from his seat with the response.

“Park Jimin,” you repeated thoughtfully. “I like it!” you decided with a smile.

A beautiful smile lit up his face the moment the words left your mouth. His thick lips pulled back in a sweet smile that showed his teeth, and turned his eyes into little crescent moons. A light dusting of pink settled onto Jimin’s cheeks as he ducked his head and went back to his soup.

The moment you saw Park Jimin’s smile you knew you were a goner. With the appearance of that smile came the realization that you’d do just about anything to keep it on his face.

You observe him quietly while you finish your own bowl, Jimin however had another two. He looked up gratefully at you when ladled more into his bowl each time, his tail flicking back and forth. Around the middle of his fourth bowl, both his tail and his eyelids had started to droop. The hybrid looked sleepier and sleepier as time went on, but you wanted to deal with his wounds before you settle him in for the night.

Trying not to startle him, you stood slowly, gathering the dirty dishes from the table. When Jimin noticed you cleaning up, he hopped out of his seat and snatched his own dishes off the table before you could grab them too. With big eyes, he stood looking at you, waiting for you to make a move. He followed you like a shadow into the kitchen, immediately placing his dishes next to the sink with your own.

The hybrid then ignores your movement to return to the bathroom, and instead turns to the sink turning it on.

“Leave that for now, I’ll take care of it later.” You tell him turning the sink back off, holding your hand out to him.

Jimin’s ears go back again as he stares at you in confusion.

“You- I-?” he sputtered for a moment, eyes flicking between your face and your hand. “Shouldn’t I do it?” He finishes lightly placing his hand in yours.

“I’m a big girl, I can wash my own dishes,” you giggle, gently pulling him back to the bathroom. A look of utter confusion passed over his face, but he allowed you to tug him along.

You walked him back to the bathroom, taking care to go slowly so he could limp along without too much trouble.

Once there , you settle Jimin down on the edge of the tub, and open up the first aid kit. Flipping the lid open, you pull out a spray antiseptic.

“This is gonna sting a little.” you warned as you pushed back the tan strands of hair that flopped over his forehead as they dried. Now clean the cut above his eyebrow looked a bit smaller, and the edges looked clean like it had been done with something very sharp.

Carefully you sprayed the antiseptic over the slash mark, making Jimin wince as he gasped sharply.

“Sorry… Sorry,” you whisper, pulling a piece of gauze out of the kit on the counter, you lightly press the gauze to his forehead with one hand, using the other to attach it with medical tape. Once it seems secure, you take a step back to admire your work.

Jimin stared up at you with curious eyes, sleepiness seemingly entirely forgotten for the time being.

“Alright, now for the shoulder, shirt off.” you said with a gesture to the piece of clothing.

The hybrid stared at you for a long long moment, seeming to study you. It took a little for you to even realize why.

“Oh, I mean only if you’re comfortable…” you tried to back track. The tell tale feeling of warmth of a blush flooding your cheeks.

He then gave you a small nod, and began pulling the shirt over his head, wincing as he moved his shoulder up.

A gasp passed your lips as the true extent of the damage done to Jimin’s body was revealed. His malnutrition was even more obvious with the sight of his clearly visible ribs, the skin clung tightly to each one all the way down to his stomach slightly distended with the weight of the meal he’d just had. His hip and collar bones stuck out sharply showing once more how long it had been since he had a good one.

Bruises of various states of healing dotted up and down his emaciated form. Scars joined the mixture here and there across the expanse of pale skin some more healed than others.

Tearing your eyes from the hybrid’s chest, you moved to take a look at his battered arms. They were also dotted with bruises, but at the top of his arm and around his shoulder was a large patch of marred skin. It looked like he’d likely skidded across the ground on it. You could see bits of gravel still embedded in the skin, some parts still damp with spots of blood, others had already started to scab over. Lightly you pulled on his arm to turn his body to give you more access. This also gives you a view of his back.

“Oh, honey…” you breathed out in shock, nausea rose in you as your eye’s raked down his pale skin. His back was somehow even more mutilated than the rest of him. Thin, ropey scars crisscross across it in no apparent pattern. Thankfully even the newest ones looked mostly scarred over, like it had been a while since he’d gotten them.

Before you could think, you lightly dragged a finger down a raised line of skin. Jimin released a shuddered breath causing you to jerk back away from the injuries.

“I was bad a lot.” he whispered without turning to look at you. For a moment you stared dumbly at the back of his head before you realized what he meant.

“What? You meant these are punishments?” you asked shocked.

The cat hybrid didn’t respond at first, his breath rattled through his chest. It took a moment but eventually he gave a stiff nod. Suddenly his behavior through the night started to make sense. You didn’t know how much abusive bullshit they filled his head with.

“Oh Jimin, you don’t deserve anything like this.” you told him, tears starting to form in your eyes. Hesitantly you reach for him shaking, but you stop, hands hovering over his skin. Faint warmth radiated off as you looked over the expanse of marred skin on his back. Honestly you couldn’t tell if the hybrid was shaking more or if you were.

A loud sniffle escapes you, as you rub away a couple of tears tracking their way down your face. Jimin’s ears flick back towards you at the noise, and he whirls around to look at you.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly over eyes that studied you again with an intensity that had you dropping your hands into your lap. Jimin’s eyes search your face, following the tracks left by your tears. After a moment he broke your impromptu staring contest, drooping as he turned his face to the side.

“ Why are you crying?” he asks, not looking at you. His voice then gets really small. “I was naughty, it was my punishment.” The hybrid’s tan tail stays low but swishes side to side fast behind him.

“No no no, you don’t deserve this.” You move to reassure him, kneeling down on the floor in front of Jimin. He notices this, looking down at you as you sit and continue on, “ nothing you could ever do, would make it ok for them to do that to you.” By the end of your sentence your voice had started to waver. Jimin was fully looking at you by this point, mouth dropped open in shock.

It’s only a moment before his face crumples into tears. Quickly you pull the cat hybrid off of the tub rim, and into your arms. He startles, stiffening at first, before melting into your arms. His body trembles hard in your arms as he buries his face in your neck. You start rubbing his back slowly trying to calm him.

It took a while to get him to stop shaking, and even longer for his sniffles to slow. Pulling away carefully as his breathing calms, you raise a hand to wipe at the tear tracks covering his face as well now. Jimin just blinks slowly at you, pure exhaustion written all over his face. It’s definitely time to get him cleaned up and in bed.

“Come on, up.” you tell him, pulling him up as you stand. The hybrid’s eyes and tail are clearly drooping in sleepiness when you settle him back on the tub side. “I’ll finish cleaning you up. Then we can go to bed.”

Carefully you patch up both his shoulder and several large slices around his leg. All of the cuts appeared to be done with a knife like his face had. The questions you had about them could wait at least the night, while Jimin’s emotions were obviously still raw.

By the time you finish, he is clearly nodding off, jerking himself awake every few moments. When you move back to put your first aid stuff in the box, the hybrid’s big brown eyes blink blurrily up at you. His left hand raised to rub at his still somewhat red and blotchy face. Grabbing his hand, you pull him into a standing position, and help him put his shirt back on without messing with his wrapping too much.

“Alright, I have a guest bedroom that is all yours for the night.” you tell him, gently pulling him from the bathroom. In the same hallway were two doors, one being your room which you pointed out to him, the other being the guest room you were leading him to.

Opening the door, you help him hobble inside, holding onto his uninjured arm. You deposit him on the bed, and help him under the covers. Reaching over to a little side table situated next to the bed, you flick in a small lamp sitting on top. The dim light shows a sparsely decorated room.

The walls of the room were a pretty light blue color, but other than the bed and the table. The only furniture in the room was a dresser. A closet juts out into the room next to the entrance, a pair of large full body mirrors work as the sliding doors to it. Honestly the room was mostly set up for when your brother came into town, which you’re thankful for now.

Once Jimin was settled into bed, eyelids already falling, you straighten up, leaving the dim light on just in case. You sneak out of the room, leaving the door cracked, to let the exhausted hybrid sleep.

Quietly you go about cleaning up the remnants of your dinner. After taking care of the dishes, you turn in for the night as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: alright guys let me know what you think. And if you want another chapter!

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sour--disposition · 4 years ago

Text

Take Me By The Hand

harry lewis x fem!reader

requested: Heyy, could you do the ‘take my hand’ concept that you did with JJ, but with Harry?? Love your writing sm! Xxx

please see my pinned post for masterlist and request info!

One taking the others hand to help them up

You were 4 when you first met Harry properly. You’d been running around the playground, chasing after one of your friends when you’d taken a tumble and ended up in a small heap on the floor. Harry had come trotting over, sticking out a hand to help you up.

“Is your knee okay?”, he asked you.

“I don’t think so. It’s bleeding”, you told him sadly.

Harry kept hold of your hand, dragging you over to where the teachers on duty were standing. “She hurt her knee”, Harry said bluntly, poking one of the adults and then pointing to your knee.

Harry followed you and the teacher inside, sitting next to you as you had your knee cleaned and a plaster stuck on. The teacher left to fill in the accident book and write a note for you to take home. “I’m Harry”, the boy said as soon as she’d left.

“I’m Y/N”, you told him with a bright grin.

“Shall we be best friends?”, Harry asked with a toothy smile.

“Yes!”.

Holding hands whilst one walks on a small wall

You and Harry had stayed best friends from that day forward. There wasn’t anything that you didn’t do together. Harry would always be the first person you’d turn to whenever anything was wrong. He held your hand through every trip you took to the first aid room in your primary school and he shouldered his way through to sit next to you whenever you were in a classroom together.

Harry asked you out on your first date when you were both 15. You’d gone to his house after school, pestering him until he did his homework before you let him outside. He’d been pacing around the lawn in front of you, completely distracted from his kickaround with Josh, as you sat on the deck with Rosie.

“What’s wrong with him?”, she asked from beside you.

“I have no idea”, you told her. “You know what he’s like though”, you dismissed, all the while worrying about your best friend.

Rosie and Josh ran inside 20 minutes later to help set the table for dinner, leaving you and Harry alone in the back garden. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?”, you asked him.

“Do you wanna go on a date?”, Harry blurted, leaving you stunned. The two of you were wide-eyed in surprise, both with words caught in your throat that you were desperately trying to say.

“Yeah”, you smiled.

A week later you met Harry by the beach. You’d seen each other through the week during school and spending the evenings after school together, but this evening felt different. This evening would be the one that potentially changed yours and Harry’s relationship forever.

You walked side by side down to the sea front, stopping and sitting on a small wall there. The two of you talked for hours, like you always did. Harry telling you about his family, about what happened in the few classes that you didn’t share together, telling you about his day and you returning the favour. You laughed well into the sunset, a soft silence falling over you as you watched the sun dip beneath the Guernsey horizon.

“It’s getting dark, and it’s cold. Let’s head back”, Harry suggested. As soon as you’d stood up, you stepped up onto the wall you’d just been sitting on, making you ever so slightly taller than Harry. With your arms held out for balance, you took a few tentative steps.

Harry reached out, grabbing your hand to keep you steady. You looked over to him, a shy smile on his face that you soon mirrored, paired with a rosy blush. Harry kept your hands entwined as you walked along the wall, matching his pace with yours so he didn’t rush you and cause you to stumble.

When you reached the end of the wall and jumped down, your hand didn’t leave Harry’s.

Holding hands whilst driving

Harry had never let whatever Youtube success he was gaining get in the way of the two of you. He always made time for you, always made you feel important. As soon as he’d learnt to drive and got a car, you and Harry would spend hours traversing the coastline, wind pouring into the window and billowing through your hair as you watched the cliffs and waves pass you by.

If you were in his car, Harry would insist on you being in the passenger seat, no matter who else was joining you. His hand would always rest on your thigh as he drove, only ever moving to change gear before quickly returning to its place.

Your fingers were wrapped loosely in his, making sure he was able to let go and reach for the gear stick whenever he needed to. The roads along the coastline were fairly straight, only ever bending slightly and no sharp turns in sight.

With the road empty bar from the two of you, Harry snuck a glance over to you. Your face was illuminated by the soft glow of the sun, hair windswept against the headrest and over your shoulders.

“I love you”, Harry said simply. It was no massive declaration, it didn’t have to be. You and Harry had been friends for 13 years, together for nearly 2. He’d loved you for as long as he could remember.

“I love you, too”.

Possessive hand holding

The first time you visited Harry in London was quite the nerve wracking experience. Aside from helping him move his stuff into his flat with Lux and Freezy, you’d barely seen him since he’d left the small island you both called home.

You waited by baggage claim, leg shaking with restless, nervous energy. It was just your luck that your suitcase was one of the last to make its way through and round the conveyor belt, the hall almost empty by the time you’d got your belongings.

Harry was waiting for you just outside arrivals, just as restless and nervous as you were. His eyes had been glued to the door from the minute you’d text him to let you know you’d reached baggage claim. Every person that walked out of the sliding doors that wasn’t you irritated him even further. It had only been a few weeks since he’d last seen you, and he was going mad.

At last, you trudged through the doors, looking a little worse for wear and incredibly pissed off. But you were there.

Harry wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’ve missed you so much”, he whispered into your hair. “The guys are already at my place, I hope that’s alright”, he told you. “They’re really excited to meet you”.

At Harry’s apartment building, he kept a tight hold on your hand as he led you upstairs. “Harry, it’s okay”, you assured him, squeezing his hand.

“Just nervous”, he told you.

Harry led you into the apartment, pausing for a second so you could drop your case by the door and kick your shoes off. His deathly tight grip on your hand never waned, like he was scared you were going to escape.

“Lads, Y/N”, Harry said awkwardly as he led you through the doorway. “Y/N, both of the Cals, Ethan, JJ, Simon, Josh, Tobi and Vik”, he introduced, pointing to each man in turn as he said their names.

“Nice to meet you”, you smiled happily.

You sat next to Harry on the sofa, squeezed up against his side. His hand was still gripping onto yours, squeezing tighter whenever any of the guys started to talk to you. “Harry”, you whispered, wiggling your fingers in his grip. “What’s wrong?”.

“Someone looks a little jealous if you ask me”, Freezy poked, wicked grin shooting across the living room.

“Oh, give over”, you scoffed, flicking Harry in the chest. “You buffoon. There’s nothing to worry about. Now ease up, you’re cutting off blood flow to my fingers”, you teased.

Rubbing their thumb over the other’s hand

“I don’t wanna leave”, you sighed, leaning further into Harry’s chest. “I miss you too much”, you whispered.

“I miss you, too”, he told you, wrapping both arms around your body and pulling you closer.

Harry watched over your shoulder as you opened your phone and pulled up flight times for a few weeks time, scrolling through them to find the cheapest option. Seeing Harry as often as possible was taking its toll on your finances and Harry knew you’d only accept so much help from him.

“What if this was the last time you flew home?”, Harry asked into your hair.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, thumb pausing over the screen.

“I spoke to Cal about it the other day, before you came”, Harry started. “How would you feel about moving to London?”, he asked.

You turned in his arms, facing Harry. “Are you being serious?”, you asked, a blossoming grin eager to bloom over your face.

“As I’ve ever been”, he whispered.

3 weeks later, you waited at the gate in Guernsey airport, surrounded by your family. “I’m so happy for you”, your mum whispered as she pulled you in for a tight hug. When she pulled back, you were both laughing through the tears that had begun to shed. “You and Harry deserve to be happy”, she told you.

They watched and waved as you walked towards the flight bridge, knowing that this would be the last time they’d see you for a while. You sat in your seat, watching as Guernsey got smaller and smaller below you. Although leaving home was never going to be an easy thing, you knew that you could build a home wherever Harry was.

You’d already shipped a lot of your stuff over to Harry, leaving you only to bring a large suitcase with you on your flight. You had no idea what to expect when you arrived, whether your stuff would be in Harry’s room or boxes strewn into whatever corner of the apartment they could fit into.

“Here”, Harry said as you sat in the car in the car park outside of the apartment building. He handed you a key on a keyring. “House keys”, he told you.

“Thank you”, you smiled

Harry pulled your case behind you as you walked up to the apartment. You stilled in front of the door, Harry pulling to a stop next to you. “Are you okay?”, Harry asked, voice filled with concern.

“Yeah”, you assured him quietly. “It’s just a lot, y’know”, you murmured.

“I know”. Harry’s thumb skimmed across the back of your hand in a soft, repetitive, soothing pattern. “I love you”, he reminded you, thumb never halting its soft reassurance against your skin.

“I know”, you smiled up at him. “But I love you more”.

Unconsciously searching for the other’s hand whilst asleep

If you were to ask Harry when he knew you’d be in his life forever, he’d have told you when the two of you were 5. Teasing from the other kids about you being best friends with each other was almost never-ending, but you and Harry always found a way to make light of it.

It wasn’t uncommon to see you and Harry playing with the dolls amongst the other little girls or racing around through the mud with the other boys. Everyone quickly learnt that where Harry went, you went and where you went, Harry went.

Harry knew you were going to be his bestest friend forever when he’d sat down on the grass to play and realised that there were no toys left. You’d come and sat down next to him and you’d played in the mud together, making daisy chains and mud pies and potions that you stirred with sticks, never caring about the dirt coating your pretty pinafore dress.

If you were to ask Harry when he knew that your relationship was meant to last, he would fumble and stumble over his words, not really knowing what to say. It was something that brought his friends great joy, asking what he saw in the future for the two of you. After all, you had been together since you were 15.

The night Harry realised you were his one great love was rather anti-climatic. There was no fireworks or mind-blowing kiss or Earth shattering sex. In fact, you were curled up asleep next to Harry, hair piled on top of your head and the hem of one of his Sidemen Clothing shirts riding up on your thigh.

He’d shut his computer down and gotten ready for bed, sliding in next to you as quietly as possible. Whilst he was lounging in bed next to you, attention focused on the screen of his phone, you’d started shifting beside him. Harry laid stock still, not wanting to wake you up with any movements.

Instead, you reached a hand across the bed, seemingly searching for something. When you couldn’t find whatever it was you were looking for, a frown settled itself onto your face. Harry was sure you were dreaming, but couldn’t resist closing the gap between your fingers and his.

The minute Harry hooked his fingers around yours, the frown on your face disappeared, replaced by a soft, blissful smile. Harry had known you long enough and knew you well enough to know that you were still fast asleep, the gentle sighs falling from your mouth being a dead giveaway.

So, if you asked Harry when he knew that your love was meant to last, he’d tell anyone that listened that it was the moment he realised you loved him even in your dreams.

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usercelestial · 3 years ago

Text

In the early hours of the morning, while the golden sun streams through their apartment window, Mickey stirs at a knock on the door.

He shakes Ian, whose limbs are wrapped tight around him, his drool pooling on his chest. Ian grumbles something but doesn’t move.

“Someone’s at the door, shithead, go get it,” Mickey shakes him again.

Ian yawns and stretches his arms, laying flat on his back now, “Who the fuck is here this early?” Ian turns back to Mickey, smiling, “You know what day it is?”

Mickey scrunches his eyebrows, trying to remember, “Uh, shit, a Tuesday?” He searches his brain for the date but he doesn’t get very far before Ian jumps on him, pressing kisses to his face.

“It’s your birthday!” Ian says, far too loudly in Mickey’s opinion, in between kisses.

Oh.

Mickey knew Ian would want to celebrate. He’s been getting better at the whole self-love thing. Instead of sulking in their room, remembering all the times he was punished for his excitement until he figured out his existence isn’t something to celebrate, they would go out and get dinner and come home drunk on both alcohol and love. Though he can’t help but feel an ache in his chest for his forlorn upbringing.

“Christ. I forgot,” Mickey places his hands on Ian’s hips, “I’m getting old.”

Ian scoffs, “Don’t say that. You’re still in your twenties, doofus.”

Mickey rolls his eyes and pushes Ian off his lap, “Go get the door.”

Ian complies, leaving one last kiss on his cheek.

He overhears a soft conversation, hushed and excited.

He barely makes out what sounds like a woman’s voice paired with Ian’s. Mickey rubs his eyes, trying to rack his brain for any neighbor they might have pissed off last night who would come over to complain. He quickly throws on clothes and walks out to the living room to see Ian standing in the kitchen with Tami.

She makes eye contact with him, “Fucking finally.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘finally.’ It’s nine in the fucking morning.”

“For normal people with healthy sleep schedules, it’s late,” she cocks her hips out, “Came to drop off your present, asshole, say thank you.”

He punches her shoulder lightly, “Thanks, dick.”

She holds out a small box, wrapped neatly in green wrapping paper. He haphazardly rips it off and opens it.

There's an assortment of gifts. The first thing he pulls out is a Mickey Mouse plushie with a card taped to the front. The writing is messy, scribbled crayon, it reads:

“hapy birth day, uncle mickey

freddie.”

“Cool,” Mickey’s voice breaks, Tami and Ian snicker.

“Lip helped pick out the toy,” Tami adds.

“Fucker,” Mickey gently places the gift on the countertop.

He goes back in and grabs a package wrapped in plastic. He realizes it’s soap and shampoo, a certain kind he told Tami he wanted a while ago, “How the fuck did you remember this?”

Tami shrugs, “You’re my friend, stupid. There’s also a cookbook, Lip got that for both of you since Ian’s getting into growing his own food.”

Mickey grabs the book that’s sitting on the bottom of the box, glancing at it before tossing it to Ian, “Thank you,” he nods and before he realizes it, she’s hugging him and pulling away.

“Happy birthday, Mick. Love you guys,” Tami kisses Ian’s cheek, “I gotta go, see ya.”

“Bye, Tami,” Ian waves, turning back to Mickey, who’s still standing, staring at the gifts that Tami dropped off.

“Hey,” Ian says softly, rubbing his shoulders, “You good, baby?”

Mickey nods, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just-you know-”

Ian does know. Not only because Mickey told him how weird it is, how uncomfortable he gets when people do things like this for him-nice things-but also because Ian experiences it himself. Maybe not to the same degree as Mickey, but he’s seen the way Ian malfunctions when one of his friends gets him something nice. He knows he has the same sort of wary confusion when they get to have good things.

Mickey leans into Ian’s touch, “Wanna go back to sleep.”

Ian rests his chin in the crook of Mickey’s neck, turning his face to plant a kiss on his cheek, “We can do that, baby.”

They go back to sleep until one, Ian wakes him again gently, whispering in his ear that they have to get up because Kev and Vee need help in the Alibi.

“It’s my fucking birthday, they should helping me!” Mickey yelped as Ian poked his side.

“Come on. The minute they’re done, we’ll come back here and sleep to your heart's content.”

“So forever?” Mickey asked from underneath a pillow.

Ian made an alarmed sound from the back of his throat, Mickey threw a pillow at his head, “Not like that, asswipe. Just tired today.”

Ian nods, sympathetic despite Mickey’s attack, “I know, honey. I promised them we would both go. So get your birthday ass up.”

Mickey does in fact get his ass up. After thirty more minutes of complaining, they’re off to the Alibi.

Ian pulls up to the bar and parks right in front of the doors. Mickey’s about to get out when Ian grabs his arm, “Okay, cards on the table, we planned a surprise party for you.”

Mickey tilts in his head, perplexed by Ian’s definition of surprise, “I don’t think you know how surprises work, lover.”

Ian picks at the skin of his lip, his eyes narrowed at the hollow of Mickey’s throat, “I just know you don’t like surprises.”

Mickey sits back in his seat, watching as Ian nervously gnaws at his chapped lips. They’ve had this talk before, mainly about Mickey’s sleeping. Ian’s learned from experience after sleeping in the same bed with him for five plus years that no one should ever shake Mickey awake. Or yell to wake him up. Or sneak up on him. Mickey’s always been hyper aware of his surroundings, it was never something he concerned himself with, ignoring the panic that reached up his throat with surprises. Though recently, Ian told him he has symptoms of PTSD rather than just being cautious.

“Alright,” Mickey nods, “How many people?”

“Just my family. I called Mandy but-”

“She’s working, I know.”

“She said happy birthday. Kev and Vee obviously. Tami,” Ian squirms in his seat like he’s nervous.

“Right, well, can’t sit out here forever.”

The minute they step into the bar, everyone screams surprise.

Ian was right, that wouldn’t have been good for anyone had Mickey not known.

“Uncle Mickey!” Franny screams and hugs his legs, “I made you a card!” She presents a card covered in glitter, depicting two stick figures holding guns and bags of money.

For the second time today, Mickey has to stop himself from crying. Bending down to hug her, he pats her hair and tells her he loves it.

“Uncle Ian helped!”

“Did he now?” Mickey raises an eyebrow at his husband, who nods proudly at his niece.

“Happy birthday, Mick!” Tami calls out, rocking Freddie in her arms.

Mickey nods and immediately gravitates to the bar, sitting down next to Lip, who’s playing with Freddie’s fingers.

Kev sets down a beer, “On the house for family, dude.”

Mickey takes it, trying not to show his unease, he grumbles, “Thanks,” before turning his attention to Ian who’s bending down and talking to Franny and Liam.

“Hey, Mickey,” Lip greets, distracted.

“Yo,” Mickey’s about ready to comfortably sit in silence, just enjoying watching on the outskirts as his in-laws mingle.

“Ian tell you about the party?” Lip asks nonchalantly.

“Uh, yeah. Right before.”

“Knew he would. While we were fucking putting it together, he-”

“Wait, hold on,” Mickey interrupted him, “You helped plan this shit?”

Lip deadpans, “Uh, yeah. Well, obviously Ian said he wanted to do something for your birthday but I figured we should have it here, you know. With family.”

Family.

He remembers the kitchen conversation, it feels like it happened so long ago. The sinking feeling in his stomach when Lip told him he wasn’t family. To a degree, he understood what he meant, but he still felt the words hit his chest like a bullet.

“Thought I wasn’t family,” Mickey teases, watching as the realization dawns on Lip, recognition enveloping his eyes.

“Shit, Mickey, that wasn’t-” Mickey cuts him off by waving a hand.

“It’s alright, shithead. Don’t give a shit,” Mickey lies, he does give shit, many in fact, but he doesn’t need Lip knowing that.

“Sure, but you are family, you know that, right?” Lip doesn’t make eye contact with him, just continues playing with his son's fingers.

Mickey sits on the bar stool, trying to cope with the knowledge that all of these people-these stupid fucking Gallaghers and Balls and Tamiettis-care about him enough to throw him a surprise birthday party.

His fucking family.

Ian apparently takes notice of his discomfort and walks over to him, Franny on his hip, “Hey, you good?” With the hand that isn’t holding up a six year-old, he rubs his back, eventually resting his palm on the nape of his neck.

Mickey nods, “It’s just a lot, man.”

Ian nods, “I know. Do you wanna go?”

Mickey shakes his head, staring at the sleepy Franny who buries her head into Ian’s shoulder, her cheek squished on his collarbone.

“Nah, I’m good,” Mickey says as Franny stretches out her arms, opening and closing her fists.

“You wanna go with Uncle Mickey instead?” Ian asks her.

When she nods, he kisses the top of her head and passes her to Mickey. Ian giggles as Mickey’s eyes go wide then soften, his shoulders relaxing as Franny peacefully transitions from one Uncle to the next, blissfully unaware of Mickey’s internal panic.

“Happy birthday, Mickey,” Ian kisses his cheek and leans into his side, sliding an arm around his torso.

“I think it might be.”

#summary: it's mickeys birthday and his fucking family throws him a party #uhh i did another thing #mickey my love you have a family who loves you so much #i had another version of this where liam tells mickey he's family but i think lip works cause of the whole family only thing ?? idk #everything else is the same tho so probably not gonna drop the other one #at least until mickeys next birthday >:)#shameless #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #lip gallagher #tami tamietti #franny gallagher #gallavich #ian x mickey #gallavich fanfiction #margo writes #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICKEY #my sweet boy #goodnight <3

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obeythebutler · 4 years ago

Note

I tried to like your post and the numbers started glitching and it just

Yeah that was terrifying anyways I’d like to request a very much angsty mammon x mc where they’ve had a fight over something trivial but neither of them has the guts to apologise so they’re just sitting there 👁 petty asf and everyone has to deal with it

BROKEN HEARTS

Mammon x Reader

Word Count:1331 words

Genre: Angst

It was an understatement to say that Mammon and you were stubborn.

Whenever you fought, you gave each other the silent treatment for days, and the rest of the brothers had to deal with the atmosphere that had been created. To add salt to the wounds, you both were petty, and always sought ways to tick off each other, even in the smallest of things.

This time you quarreled over Mammon's excellent cleaning habits, his room was always so...filthy, one could barely walk there without tripping over an old box of takeout or a stray shoe.

" Mammon, could you please clean your room once in a while so that people don't fall flat on their ass in your room? " Your request was a snarky one, as falling flat on the floor had become a common occurrence, and your rump was begging to be spared from the bruises.

" Mh-hm" Mammon's reply was half-hearted, as he was focused on a poker game to be held tonight and was staring at the invitation with such intensity unlike anything seen before.

" Mammon, are you even listening?" When no reply came, you picked up the stray box and threw it at Mammon's face. It hit him on the nose, and although a demon like him couldn't even feel it, he looked annoyed. *Could ya stop bothering me for a hot second here?! There's a poker game tonight and I plan on -"

" Mammon, clean your goddamned room once in a while.Its resembling a pigsty." You were equally annoyed, and your remarks had a bite to them, Mammon was acting like a teen having to be reminded to clean his room.

" If you're so bothered with how I live, then perhaps don't come here anymore." Mammon was equally irritated, and his eyes stared into yours as he bit back. For a hot moment you both glared at each other in an impromptu staring contest.

" Fine." You snarled." Stay in your fucking pigsty for all I care, I won't even come here anymore." Quickly turning around you stormed out of his room, swearing at the items lying on the floor along. A muttered " like I care" could be heard, and you took special care in banging the door hard after that.

Satan cursed under his breath as he heard the unpleasant sound of the door banging, and setting his half-read book on the table he stormed out of his room to remind the offender to close the door gently next time. But when he saw you storming out of Mammon's room, Satan knew that the environment of the house was going to be less.. pleasant than before.

3 weeks.

3 fucking weeks.

3 weeks since you and Mammon had talked.

The only communication between you two were in the form of glares and snarky remarks. When one entered a room, the other left. Almost like you were trying to avoid each other.

Mammon stopped waiting for you at RAD, having one of his brothers be there instead. You refused to text or call him, unless he did first, and left nothing untouched to annoy him.

By now, one of you would have come forward and admitted their mistake, and after a long talk everything would be as it was before, back into the world of rose-tinted glasses.

" Guys please talk to each other." Beel pleaded as as his plate of unfinished BLT sandwiches and hell hog roast lay in front of him.

The glares being exchanged on the table stopped and the pair went back to focus on their respective meals, still refusing to talk. All day long, MC and Mammon kept annoying each other, doing petty things that they knew would piss each other off. When MC was brewing coffee for everyone in the morning, she made sure to not leave some for Mammon. Mammon, in return, ensured that MC's surroundings were as dirty as possible. And when they were pointed out, they both bickered. Even Beel was being put off from his food! Beel! Food! Something had to be done.

Mammon was getting even more reckless, staying out nights at poker clubs and casino's, coming back home early morning and often drunk. You stayed in your room and looked for every opportunity to piss him off. The tension was so thick in the dining room that day that Belphegor could cut it with a knife.

Fed up of you two's behaviour, the brothers devised a plan.

" GET US OUT, WILL YA ?!"

" Not until you both get your shit together."

Belphegor calmly replied as he walked away from the door. It took some planning to trap you both in one of the old rooms,Satan was on the verge of hexing you two's lips or hands together, but this would do. Hopefully, you two would make up and go back to being all lovey-dovey.

Mammon grumbled as he looked away from the door.

" It's no use.The door won't open.Lucifer probably cursed it or some shit." Even then he banged it in the hope of it opening. "I have a modelling gig in thirty minutes.And now I am stuck here."

" Well, it's because of YOU that we are stuck here.If for once you could clean your goddamned room so that the others don't end up with bruises and stubbed toes-"

" Stop it, will ya?! You're so suffocating at times, just like Lucifer! It's my goddamned room, the Great Mammon can do or keep it whichever way it wants!" Mammon pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he ranted. Your temper flared up.

" You can shove your greatness up your ass for all I care Mammon, but can you please stop being so childish for once?" His behaviour was getting on your nerves, and resembled that of a small child being denied the cookie kept on top of the shelf.

Mammon growled softly and his eyes darted back and forth, everywhere except yours. His hands were clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white. His jaw was clenched.

Tell-tale signs of anger.

You should have stopped right there, perhaps tried to calm yourself down and not say anything in haste. But his mutism was deciphered as ignorance, so you continued bearating him.

" Your room is never clean, you always keep stealing others things, you -"

Mammon snarled.

You took a step back in fear and wisely shut your mouth. Mammon never,ever lost his temper. He was the most level headed out of his brothers, the one with the most patience. Seems like you crossed his boundaries, because now Mammon was in his demon form and you were being cornered until your back touched the wall, and his face had an expression was of pure rage.

Mammon was bought back to his sense by your whimpers. He blinked, then looked at his fluttering wings and your scared form. You were cowered in a corner, whimpering as you cradled your head in your hands, and Mammon's heart broke.

" Mammon this, Mammon that ! Can you stop insulting me like my brother's do, or is that hard? You suffocate me. Honestly, why do I even bothering and caring for ya, why I wait for ya everyday at RAD, why should I -"

He swore not to hurt you, to never make you cry and yet, and yet he...

" MC, I-I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." Mammon reverted back to his human form, shakily holding out his own hand, for you to look at him, to-

" Stay b-back." Your voice was wavering, and yet you forced yourself to get up.

" Too fucking far, Mammon, too fucking far."

What have you done ?

Hastily summoning Satan, you commanded him to open the door, something you wish you had done earlier, and stormed out without looking Satan in the eyes, who was wondering about the incident that took place. But one look at your tear-stained face and Mammon's hunched posture and aghast expression was enough to say that something had gone,horribly, horribly wrong.

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me headcannons #obey me x reader angst #obey me x mc #obey me mc #obey me angst #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon #obey me mammon x reader #mammon x reader

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moipale · 3 years ago

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2021 Holiday Truce

Hello @arisu-artnfics! I’m your truce gifter this year! It was a pleasure to work with your prompts, and I tried to incorporate all of them (gifts, green and red, ugly sweaters, christmas decorations, christmas), since they work so well together. I hope very much that you enjoy the fic I wrote!

“Are you hiding?”

Danny barely avoids starting at the sound of Jazz’s voice, and looks over his shoulder up to where she’s standing behind him.

“Ha-ha. Who wouldn’t be?” He gestures down at the living room below them. He’s sitting at the top of the stairs, his legs dangling between poles of the railing, staring down at the whirlwind that is his parents, in full holiday swing. There are boxes of decorations strewn about the living room, the tree is tilting in its stand, half-wrapped presents which he and Jazz politely pretend not to see are shoved behind the couch—the December usual. Things haven’t devolved into their annual argument, following last year’s resolution, but Danny still finds himself on edge for it—still, this year, with their tentative agreement that Santa is a ghost, it feels a little bit easier.

“Punk,” Jazz says affectionately, and sits down beside him, plonking a Santa hat on his head as she does. He scowls at her and receives a faux-innocent smile in return. When she takes a closer look at him, Jazz blinks in surprise. “You’re wearing the sweater!”

Aunt Alicia—who will be coming down to visit for Christmas Day, a veritable Christmas miracle, considering how little she leaves her neck of the woods—had knitted the whole family personalized ugly holiday sweaters. It had surprised them all, and she won the unofficial annual gift-giving competition in short order; no one expected her to go for something so personal, and so delightfully awful to look at.

“Yeah, well, I risk Ghost Writer kicking my ass if I don’t,” Danny replies, ducking his head. Jazz sees through him.

“We’ll make a Christmas lover out of you yet, little brother,” she teases, knocking her shoulder against his. He grumbles, but notably doesn’t protest.

Together, they watch the chaos. Sometimes it’s nice that their parents are so oblivious, and so it is now, that they can sit together on the landing and look down unnoticed into the din, people-watching as a party of two. Danny has never liked Christmas, but he might understand now why everyone emphasizes family during the holidays: he loves his parents, their sweet bumbling and all. Downstairs, they work together in tandem, building the holiday; even through their scientific fervor, they make time to decorate and wrap gifts, and despite himself, he loves them for it.

“Aw, look at you.” Jazz is smiling at him. “It’s nice to see you so relaxed at this time of year.”

The old instinct to pull away is there, but Danny doesn’t let it rear its head. Instead, he smiles back. “Feels nice, too.”

“What’s this?”

This time, Jazz does manage to make him jump, and he turns around sharply, mind already scattered with stress. “Huh?”

She gestures at large to the mess surrounding him: tissue paper and wrapping and flat gift bags, receipts, conspicuous boxes. A smile plays on her lips. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were wrapping Christmas gifts.”

He scowls, without as much indignance as he intends. “Get out of here before you start guessing which one’s yours.”

“You got a gift for me?” The glee in her voice is almost enough to wash away his embarrassment. Almost. Baby steps, Danny, baby steps.

“Yes, now shoo! I need to finish this and I’m already tearing my hair out.”

“Want help?”

The offer surprises him, and he stops short, the nervous energy surrounding him calming just a bit. He’s never known Jazz to make offers in jest, but he studies her expression for a moment anyway; as always, she is genuine. She’s a good sister.

“Yeah, okay. But shut your eyes for a second! I need to hide your thing—!"

It’s at Jazz’s gentle urging that he delivers his gifts in person, and on the Eve, one by one, he drops them off with their recipients. Mom and Dad and Jazz herself don’t count, thankfully, so he leaves those neatly beneath the decidedly less neat tree, still leaning in its stand. From there, he has only three stops—all human, since the Truce isn’t on Christmas this year, and he’s refusing to worry about Truce gifts until he has to—and Phantom heads off into the night to make them.

He goes to Sam first, since she’ll give him less shit about his newfound Christmas spirit. She accepts the gift gracefully—he and Tucker had long ago cleared it with her, whether she wants them to get her Hannukah or Christmas gifts or both—and with minimal teasing, and keeps him for an hour or so to chat quietly in her dark room, lit only by his own glow. He’s always enjoyed being around Sam most this time of year; she’s always been gentle with him, commiserating when he bitterly complained and now allowing him room to give the holiday another chance, separating it from the context he’d hated it for.

“Who else have you gotten something for, besides me and Tucker?” she asks, eyeing the third gift bag Danny carries. He’s finally pulled himself from their conversation, wary of the late hour and eager to get back home before too long.

“Valerie,” he reveals, toying with the tag on the bag. “Should I not have?”

Sam pauses. Her feelings about Valerie have always been complicated, but in the past year, through a million dangers, they’ve all found it easier to see people’s separate layers. “No, I think it’s sweet. She’ll appreciate it.”

“Yeah?” He perks up.

She smiles at him. Ready for bed, Sam isn’t wearing any make-up, and Danny enjoys seeing her plain face, knowing that she trusts him with it. “Yeah,” she assures him.

He stops in on Tucker next, crashing intangibly into his room purely to make Tucker yelp. He gets the desired reaction and then some—the expected teasing, and eventual sappy thank-yous and Merry-Christmases—and regrets to cut it short, but it’s already eleven and at this point he has no idea how late Valerie stays up.

“Good luck, hotshot!” Tucker shoots him a wink as he leaves, and Danny rolls his eyes, catching the implication. He’s not sure if he’s going for anything here, giving this gift—he liked Valerie, definitely, but it’s been months since they were together. Mostly, he misses her friendship.

When he, human, knocks on the door to Valerie’s apartment—an address he should not know, and which he prays no one questions him on—it’s her dad that answers the door. It takes Damon a moment to recognize him, but then his expression clears, and he says, “Danny! Merry Christmas. What brings you here?”

“I have a gift for Valerie. Is she here?”

Damon casts a briefly frustrated glance inward, though he hides it admirably. “No, she’s gone out. I can take it for her.” He reaches to receive it, but Danny pulls back, the movement slightly sharper than he intended.

“Ah—I really wanted to give it to her in person. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, so I wanted to… yeah.” He trails off, embarrassed. At that, Damon’s gaze softens.

“I gotcha. Feel free to stop by tomorrow morning if you have time, or I’m sure you’ll have the chance to hand it off when you’re both back at school.” He pats a kind hand on Danny’s shoulder. “She’ll be glad you thought of her. She misses you too, you know.”

A happy blush colors Danny’s cheeks. Thankfully, they’re already red from the cold, so it doesn’t give much away. “Thanks, Mr. Gray. Merry Christmas.”

It’s both disappointing and relieving to fly out of Elmerton, gift still in hand. He really wants to start moving toward friendship with Valerie again, but too its kind of terrifying; he doesn’t need much persuasion to put it off a bit longer.

Thus, it’s to his surprise when halfway home, he sees her: the Red Huntress, not quite Valerie, but it is her regardless.

Danny stills in the air. Valerie’s back is to him; she’s sitting on the edge of a billboard platform, looking out over the city, spinning her hoverboard around one dangling foot. Her helmet is retracted; her hair flies free in the chilly December air. It hasn’t snowed yet this year, but Danny can imagine how pretty a picture it would be: her, glowing red against the frost.

Maybe he still likes her a little bit.

He can’t approach her as Fenton like this, he knows; he can’t give his gift in the way he originally intended to. But it’s Christmas Eve—Christmas Day, by now, actually—and he’s trying. And New Year’s is right around the corner, and perhaps this can be his resolution: a different kind of trying.

Danny Phantom tears the tag that says “from D.F.” off the gift bag, and flies forward.

Her suit must alert her to his approach, but Valerie doesn’t move until he’s settled beside her, and even still that motion is only a slowly-drawn ectogun pointed loosely at his face. He can spot a hundred ways to disarm her, a hundred more to dodge, but she doesn’t shoot, and so he doesn’t move.

Against the dark swath of the billboard, between advertisements, blank and unlit, they each glow green and red: Christmas lights in their own.

“Hi, Valerie,” Phantom says.

“Come to ruin the holiday?” she bites.

A hundred ways to respond, and last year, he would have. But Ghost Writer made him stop and stare and listen, last year, and since then he’s been doing a lot of looking, a lot of listening. He misses Valerie. He misses the early joy of the holiday, when he’d been young enough his parents’ argument had passed him by. He’s a year and change into his afterlife, and he’s just remembering how to be optimistic, how to hope. He thinks often of how wonderful it would be, how easy, if the Red Huntress and Phantom worked together.

“No,” he says instead, offering her a smile. “I got you a gift.”

#2021 holiday truce #phandomholidaytruce #arisu-artnfics #my fics #mine #danny phantom #dp fanfiction #gray ghost

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Flatmates - Harry Styles

i listened to kiwi while writing it so i strongly advise to listen to is while reading as well. without any further ado, i present you this flatmate!harry fic with some steamy smut!

word count: ~9k

warning: smut

masterlist

You were desperate to find a place to live, to say the least. You’ve always had trouble remembering deadlines and important dates, and thanks to this charming trait of yours, you successfully missed the deadline of the college dormitory applications. After a day of solid panic you started looking for cheap apartments, but living off campus seemed to be something only rich people could afford. Rents were ridiculously high and you were certain you couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars for a room smaller than your pantry back at home. You watched ad after ad, making calls all day for a week straight, but at the end, you always went to bed with the thought that you’ll have to live under a bridge through the first semester of your freshman year.

It was until a friend of yours, Rita, who was mature enough to apply to the dormitory in time called you with the best news you could receive.

“This friend of my future roomie is looking for a flat mate. You gave me his number, maybe you could give him a call and see if the room is still available. Just tell him Kimberly gave you his number, I’m sure he’ll offer you the room on a nicer price.”

“Oh my God, you just saved my life!” you gasped, almost feeling like crying. “I owe you big time, Rita!”

You called right away, not wanting to waste any time and maybe have the room already rented by then. A deep, male voice answered the call in a soothing British accent.

“Harry Styles,” he said in a calm tone.

“Hey! My name is Y/N and I got your number from Kimberly. I’m looking for a place to live from September and I was told you have a room to rent?”

Harry sounded a little hesitant at first, asked a few questions about you to have a better picture of you, but eventually offered the room. You quickly agreed that you’d be able to move in at the end of August. You were thankful you had one less worry about school finally.

August rolled around the corner faster than you expected and in no time, half your life was packed up into boxes and suitcases as you and your dad drove two hours on a Saturday to get you all settled in your new home. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen Harry just yet. Though you did search up his name, but he was the kind to never post about himself, but mostly about guitars, landscapes and animals. His Instagram was dry, no trait of what he looked like or even the slightest hint about himself. There was only one photo that featured the outline of a guy, which makes it clear that the person was fully naked, no trace of any clothes hanging on his body, but it was completely dark, so nothing could be really seen. However the tag on the figure made you think it wasn’t him, so it didn’t matter. His Facebook seemed even sadder, barely any posts, not even a decent profile picture. You were surprised to see there are people who don’t really use social media, but you didn’t take it as a bad sign. Harry must be a private person and you had nothing against that.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to move in with a guy you’ve never met before?” your dad asks as the two of you are unloading the car in front of the apartment complex. Glancing up you shrug your shoulders with a little excitement, knowing that you are only minutes away from finally seeing the person you are gonna spend your next months living with.

“He sounded like a decent person, and I really don’t have any other choice, dad. Or do you want me to sleep in a park or something?”

“God, no. You really should be more careful about those deadlines next time,” he sighs kissing the top of your head before shutting the back of the car once everything is set on the ground.

“Don’t worry, I already bought a calendar so I can keep better track of everything.”

When you first told your parents that you’d be living with Harry, they didn’t seem to be a fan of the idea, but they realized you weren’t really swimming in options at the moment so they eventually come to peace that their daughter is going to be living with a guy. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, knowing well you were an adult now practically who can make choices for herself.

The two of you manage to bring everything up to the third floor and you ring the doorbell since you don’t have your keys yet. You immediately recognize Harry’s British accent as he calls out a “coming!” from the other side of the door and a few seconds later it opens, revealing him.

Your first thought is that he is tall. Very tall and oh my! How handsome! His green eyes find your gaze and his dimples come out as he smiles at you happily. This man is surely a nice sight, you think to yourself, but you quickly bring yourself back to reality as he takes a look at all the stuff surrounding you.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call me that you were here? I could have helped you!” Taking a step outside he stretches his hand out for your dad. “Nice to meet ya, you must be Mr. Y/L/N. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” your dad nods at him shaking his head before Harry grabs a box from the floor himself, holding the door open for you.

“Come on in!”

The three of you quickly bring everything inside from the hallway and you finally have a moment to look around. It’s not a big apartment, but seemingly perfect for two people. Walking in you have a small kitchen on the left and a little dining area on the right with a simple table and four chairs around it. Further inside is the living room, it’s nicely furnished very bright thanks to the large windows across the front door. On the left there’s a door that leads to the bathroom and on the right there’s a small hallway, two doors on each side. The two rooms are exactly the same size, so there was no need to have a discussion about who is getting which room. Not that you were gonna go against Harry when he literally saved your life with letting you stay with him.

The place seems tidy and neat, it’s clear that Harry takes good care of his home and that is for sure a relief.

Your room has a double bed, a desk with a chair, a dresser and a built in little closet. Everything is white or a light beige color, nothing extreme and you already have plans about how you want to decorate it to make it cozier.

“I left two shelves free for you out of the three. I have a few hair products, but I figured you’d need more space,” Harry tells you when you put a smaller box into the bathroom that has all your toiletries.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

Your dad sticks around a little longer helping you unpack some of the bigger boxes, then you walk him down to his car before he leaves.

“Please call your mother often. You know how much she worries about you,” he asks as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Will do.”

“And call us anytime you need help. Two hours is not that far away, I can always come and get you.”

“I’ll be alright, dad, but thank you.”

You watch him climb into the car and he rolls down the windows waving in your way as he leaves from the parking lot. You stand there until he disappears on the corner and then go back up to your apartment.

Harry is sitting in the living room when you get back, some quiet music playing from the Bluetooth speaker as he reads a book. He glances up at you and you flash him a smile closing the door behind you.

“Your dad seemed quite okay with you living with a guy.”

“He had time to get used to it. They’re not that strict though.”

“That’s cool. I was thinking, maybe we could order some food when you’re done unpacking and just get to know each other a little more.”

“That sounds great!” you smile, but can’t ignore how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Harry surely has an effect on you that you’ll need to gain control over if you don’t want to make living together hard for yourself.

It takes quite some time to unpack everything and find the right place for your stuff, you don’t even finish by the time the food arrives so you decide to leave the rest for tomorrow.

The Chinese food is all set on the table when you walk out and Harry is getting two plates for the two of you.

“Settled in?” he asks as you take one of the chairs and he sits across you.

“Not fully, but I’m getting there,” you chuckle as he hands you your order. “Thank you.”

You talk over the food, just getting to know each other and you finally get a better picture of Harry. It’s his third year of college, he is studying music and pedagogy, intending to one day use music as a helping tool for kids who have learning difficulties. He is a big fan of collecting vinyls and quite passionate about trashy rom coms.

“Really?” you chuckle when he mentions how his Netflix queue is filled with romantic movies.

“Guilty pleasure,” he nods smirking.

You tell a little about yourself too and he seems genuinely interested, which feels nice. You would have hated if he found your interests boring and negligible, but that’s not the case.

“How come you couldn’t find a roommate for so long?” you ask the question that’s been in the back of your mind for quite a while now. Both of you are done eating and you’re cleaning up the table.

Nothing really stood out about Harry just yet, it’s quite a mystery for you why he couldn’t find someone to live with him.

“Well, you could say I’m a little picky in this field. Lived with my best mate first year, and though I absolutely love him, he was horrible to live with. Felt like his personal maid the whole time. When Niall moved in with his girlfriend and I had to move on my own I promised myself I would choose carefully. Lived with a PhD student last year, he was pretty great, but he moved out when he graduated, and I couldn’t really find someone I liked since then.”

“Glad I passed then,” you chuckle as you take the dishes and start washing them while Harry stands next to you, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You seemed like a decent person to live with, I hope I won’t be wrong about that,” he chuckles, but you can tell he is still a little scared you might turn out to be a total asshole.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be too much trouble. I’m quiet like a mouse and clean up after myself.”

“That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Alright, I have some things to finish, I’ll be in my room if you need help with anything.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He waves in your way before disappearing in his bedroom.

You spend most of your Sunday unpacking what was left and running errands, buying groceries so you don’t have to go to the store every other day during the week. You occasionally meet Harry in the kitchen or the living room, but you both just do your own thing and it’s totally fine by you.

School starts quiet smoothly, Harry was kind enough to give you a rundown of where you’ll find your lecture halls so you don’t really get lost around campus, easily finding your way.

Friday afternoon you and Rita are sitting at a café near campus to discuss the first week of school. You don’t have any classes together, so only grabbed lunch two times all week, but didn’t have more than twenty minutes together before one of you had to run to a class. Now you are both comfortably sat in a booth with two cappuccinos and plenty of time to talk.

“So, how is living with Harry?” she curiously asks.

“He is great! Though we don’t meet that much. He has a band so he has practice three times a week, spends the rest of his time at home reading or watching TV.”

You ate dinner together twice this week, but you haven’t really had the courage to join him in the living room when he was watching TV. It sounds stupid but you figured maybe it would bother him if you were out there with him. And since he didn’t invite you either, you just stayed in your room mostly.

“Kimberly told me he is hot, is that true?” she asks with a smirk as she takes a sip from her hot drink. You immediately feel your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he surely is a good looking guy,” you breathe out.

“Lucky you! There’s not much of those in an all girls dorm,” she pouts and you chuckle. “So are you gonna make a move on him?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head laughing.

“Why not?”

“Because we live together and if he rejects me that would be so awkward for the rest of our time living together.”

“But you can’t know for sure if he would reject,” she points out, but she can’t bring up one thing that would change your mind.

“It’s better not to take the odds. I don’t want to end up on the street.”

As the days go by, things start to get busier in your everydays. Assignments and papers start to pile up so you have to start working on them if you don’t want to leave everything to the last moment. You become a regular in the library, the atmosphere is great for you to get into the flow and get a lot of work done.

It seems like Harry is in the same shoe, he is often in and out of the apartment, sometimes only spends home just a couple of minutes before he leaves again. However they slowly get accustomed to each other, learn the ways the other likes things and work up a schedule for things. Harry learns that Y/N likes to take a shower twice a day and washes her hair usually on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he doesn’t try to take too much time in the bathroom on those days. He also notices how she doesn’t have time to wash the dishes after herself on Thursdays when she just runs home to have a quick bite before she has to leave for another lecture, so they came to a silent agreement where Harry cleans up after her on Thursdays while she takes up on the dishes on Saturday when Harry leaves to band practice at eight.

They work well together and soon enough all of Harry’s doubts about Y/N fade into nothing and he realizes he has made the right choice with her.

Usually she stays at the library until seven on Mondays, but this week they are closing early because they are rearranging a whole department, so Y/N leaves a little after five. She pays a quick trip to the grocery store before she heads home. Opening up the door she immediately hears the music playing, one of Harry’s vinyls is twirling around in the record player and she hears the water running in the bathroom. Setting her bags on the counter she starts unpacking the groceries.

The music and the running water pushed the sound of her arriving down, Harry didn't realize that you were home early when he opens the bathroom door, singing to himself wearing absolutely nothing as he wants to go and grab a pair of clean underwear, but he is shocked to see you standing in the kitchen.

“Shit!” he snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself as he sprints back to the bathroom quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

Your cheeks are heating up immediately even though you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to, the counter top covered him just right above the critical line, but it’s the first time you’ve seen his upper body completely naked.

Even though it was just a spit second, the sight of his many tattoos and the defined V-line leading down to his crotch burned straight into your mind, leaving you flustered and shy all of a sudden.

“Sorry! I should have let you know I was coming home early!” you call out turning around, as if he was about to walk out naked again. Harry chuckles lightly as he returns, this time a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to check in when you come home. It was my fault, I shouldn’t just walk around naked assuming you wouldn’t be home.”

You should, you think to yourself gulping as you turn around and dare to look at him again. You don’t see less than just a few seconds ago, his chest is glistening from the dampness, his curls are still wet and you are having a hard time not to stare at the tattoos on his lower stomach, so you busy yourself with the rest of your groceries as he walks into his room and returns in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt.

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asks disappearing in the bathroom, but he leaves the door open and you hear him shuffle around, probably fixing up his hair. He uses some kind of mousse that keeps his curls perfectly and also happens to smell like mango and some kind of citrus.

“Um, not really.”

“We’re playing at this bar with the band, wanna come and watch us?” Walking out of the bathroom he switches the light off before walking to the couch and opening up his Netflix account on the TV. His invitation surprises you, but it also feels nice he wants you there.

“Oh, sounds fun! Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! I can have a table reserved for you, if you’d like,” he smiles at you before turning his attention to the screen.

“That would be great, thanks.”

You feel like after your little encounter it’s probably not the best day to join him at the TV, especially because you can’t stop yourself from blushing every time you look at him. The sight of his naked torso pops up in your mind every time and there’s no way you can just casually sit on the couch with him without your body lighting up on fire.

Rita is excited when you tell her about the invitation, you don’t even have to convince her to go with you since she is dying to finally meet Harry. When he leaves in the early afternoon on Saturday he assures you that there’s gonna be a table reserved under your name, and off he goes to practice, leaving you alone for the rest of the day since he tells you he won’t be back before the concert tonight. Rita comes over around six and the two of you get ready together.

“You have to wear something spicy,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you while you sit at your desk applying mascara to your lashes.

“I don’t want to overdress, it’s just a bar.”

“Yeah, but Harry invited you. I bet he wants you to see him play.”

“Of course he wants, why else would he invite me?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t get it,” she chuckles turning to you, hands on her hips. “He wants you to see him play because it feeds his ego. Maybe even turns him on.”

“Stop acting like there is anything between us. We are flatmates and that’s all.”

“I think he wants to be more, you’re just too pussy to make a move yourself,” she shrugs turning back to your closet.

“Stop calling me a pussy for not wanting to make it awkward for the two of us to live together. I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t see me as anything more than just the person he lives with.”

“Then we have to change that. And I think this is the perfect dress for that.”

Rita pulls out a little black dress you bought about a year ago, but never really got around to wear it. It’s so tight, pushes your tits up way too much for your liking, you’re not even sure why you bought it in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” you shake your head.

“Are you afraid he might get a boner from you in it?”

“Rita!” you snap at her, but she just chuckles.

“Look, if you’re so sure he doesn’t want you like that, why does it matter what you wear?”

She has a point. It’s not like this dress will change anything and it would be nice to wear at least once in your life this stupid dress if you bought it.

Grabbing it from her hands you throw it to the bed and start undressing as she claps in victory.

You remembered right, the dress leaves close to nothing to the imagination when it comes to your figure. The fabric hugs your figure tightly, and you put on a lacy bralette that peeks out at the top of the dress, kind of covering some more from your skin, since the dress doesn’t do much in that field itself. Rita tries to convince you not to take a jacket, but you throw your denim jacket on, feeling the need to have something give you the slightest sense of being covered.

You arrive at the bar twenty minutes before the concert starts and it’s a good thing Harry reserved a table for you, because the place is packed. You’re not sure if it’s because of them or it’s just a regular Saturday evening.

The little stage is all set up, but you see no sign of Harry anywhere as the two of you settle at your table with a drink. Luckily, the bartender did not ask for an ID, he was too busy looking at your chest. At least there’s one good thing in this dress.

The drum set at the back has the name of the band on it and you smile reading it. The word ‘Stylish’ is printed on it with bold blue letters, referring to Harry’s last name, who is most likely the front man of the band.

The place is buzzing and the two of you enjoy being out at a bar concert. When the lights go down you finally spot him walking out of the back followed by a guy and two girls.

“Welcome, folks,” he greets the audience, his accent filling up the place over the chatters. A round of cheering answers him, making him smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight, we hope to entertain you in the next hour. Our name is Stylish and now let’s get down to business,” he smirks and just as he takes a step back from the mic, the band starts playing. Harry grabs a guitar himself before stepping back to the mic and then he starts singing.

They play a mixture of covers and original songs, the transition between them is so smooth you sometimes forget it’s a whole different song that’s playing. Harry is clearly enjoying the spotlight, his presence on the stage is so natural and capturing, you often catch yourself forgetting about the rest of the band.

One song follows the other and you don’t even realize how fast this hour passes by. Harry sometimes stops in-between songs, entertaining the audience with small jokes and just casually interacting with them.

“Our last song is up next, so let me take a moment to introduce the band,” Harry speaks into the mic while softly playing the guitar so it’s not completely quiet as he talks. “At the drums, the amazing and talented Sarah Jones!”

A round of applause fills the bar as Sara waves around smiling widely, before Harry moves on to the next member.

“Playing the piano, the wonderful Charlotte Clark!”

Charlotte plays a short melody on the keys matching up with what Harry has been playing, before she also waves at the audience.

“The guy who is a way better guitarist than me, Mitch Rowland.”

Harry’s comment makes the audience laugh and Mitch just nods shyly, a smile pulling on his lips under his mustache.

“And this handsome Brit who sometimes acts like a comedian,” Sarah starts leaning closer to her mic. “Harry Styles.”

It’s no surprise that Harry gets the biggest cheering and he smirks sweetly, his fingers still strumming on the guitar. The clapping and screaming slowly dies down and as Harry steps back to his mic they start the last song.

It’s quite an upbeat, funky song, you just can’t resist dancing around on your chair and seemingly Rita is enjoying herself as well, cheering with her beer in her hand. The song comes to an end and they all line up at the front of the stage bowing down together as the whole bar cheers on them as one person.

“Woah, this was… something else,” Rita breathes out once they disappear at the back and chatter fills up the place once again and the lights come back.

“They smashed it!” you nod in agreement. You figured they are good if they get asked to perform, but this was way beyond what you were expecting.

Looking around you are hoping to see Harry somewhere, but they must be celebrating somewhere at the back. Maybe he won’t even come out, you think to yourself as you finish up your beer.

“I’ll get us another round,” you tell Rita as you make your way to the bar.

There are quite a few people waiting to be served, so you squeeze yourself into the crowd and hope to get to the front soon.

“So how did you like it?”

You jump in surprise when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, and turning around you see how close he is standing to you.

“Hi! I didn’t even see you sneak up on me,” you chuckle making him smile as he squeezes himself next to you. The two of you finally reach the front, but the bartender is serving someone a little on the left so you have to wait. “I loved it, you were like a proper rockstar up there!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and his dimples show up on his cheeks. The bartender finally gets to you and Harry is quick to order for the both of you. “’S probably better if I place the order since you’re not twenty one just yet.”

“Didn’t have any problem ordering the first time,” you smirk smugly and Harry raises his eyebrows at you before his eyes wander down your body for a second.

“I bet you didn’t in this dress.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of how daring your outfit looks, so out of reflex, you pull your jacket tighter on yourself, Harry’s smile quickly fades as he realizes that he made you uncomfortable with his comment.

“I meant that you look really pretty. Definitely makes you appear a little older though.”

“My friend wanted me to wear it, I would have been fine with something else,” you admit as the bartender places your order in front of you and Harry pays for the whole thing.

“Glad she convinced you,” he grins down at you and you can feel your cheeks heating up once again.

He helps you carry the drinks to the table and Rita quickly puts her phone away when she sees who you are returning with.

“Harry, this is my friend, Rita. Rita, this is Harry,” you introduce them and Harry shakes her head smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods kindly.

“Oh, same goes for you,” Rita smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“I’ll go get the rest of the band, do you mind if we join you guys here? There are no empty tables.”

“Sure,” you nod smiling before the crowd swallows Harry.

“For fuck’s sake, you have to make a move on him, Y/N!” Rita turns to you as soon as he is gone.

“Would you stop?” you chuckle.

“No! This dude is so hot I forget my name when I look at him! And you live with him! You can’t miss this chance, Y/N.”

“I’m not missing anything. We live together, it’s not worth it.”

“Not missing anything?” Rita looks at you as if you were mental. “You are literally missing everything!”

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell him just when Harry appears again, this time with two of his bandmates, Sarah and Mitch are following him smiling, hand in hand.

“Charlotte had to leave early, but this is Sarah and Mitch,” Harry introduces them as they join the two of you at the table. “And this is my flatmate, Y/N and her friend Rita.”

You all shake hands as Harry sorts out the extra beers he has ordered so everyone has a drink on their hand.

It’s no surprise, but Sarah and Mitch prove themselves to be just as cool as they seemed up on the stage. And the best thing is that they don’t shy away from sharing funny stories that include Harry.

“So have you been looking for a new place to stay, Y/N?” Mitch jokes. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of Harry by now.”

“Very funny,” Harry laughs at his bandmate’s comment.

“To be honest it’s pretty fine so far. He is a pleasant person to share your home with,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“What’s one thing you hate about living with him?” Sarah asks and Harry pretends to be hurt over the question.

“Who said there’s anything she hates?”

“Shush, I was asking her!” she hushes at him making you laugh.

“I really can’t point out anything in particular. Maybe he has been very careful, luring me into believing that he is the perfect flatmate so I get stuck with him.”

You stay for a while, just chatting and having a good time until the bar starts to empty out and you decide it’s better if you head home as well.

“We have to take care of the equipment, are you leaving or do you want to wait for me?” Harry asks you.

“We’ll just call an Uber, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Alright, see you at home.”

You say goodbye to Sarah and Mitch and part your ways with them as you and Rite head outside.

“I hope you noticed how Harry was looking at you,” Rita smirks at you when the two of you are sitting at the back of the Uber.

“What are you talking about?” you sigh leaning your head against the seat.

“I caught him staring at you quite a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at me when I was talking. Don’t try to talk something into it that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she replies holding up her hands. “But I still think you are missing out on some amazing dick.”

You awkwardly glance at the driver who is hearing everything you say, but Rita seemingly doesn’t mind that you’re not alone.

“You know what? We should give Tinder a try.”

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to make a move on your hot flatmate, we need to get some satisfaction from others.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, you are not,” she chuckles. “But you will be when you match with the hottest guys on campus.”

You let Rita believe that she convinced you to sign up for Tinder, but you get out of the car with the intention of never downloading the app, like ever.

Walking into the apartment you grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties since your sleeping shorts are all dirty, but you were planning to do the laundry tomorrow. You decide it’s not a big deal and the shirt will probably cover enough of your body.

You take a quick shower to get off the thick smell of the bar that’s stuck on your skin, taking your time moisturizing yourself once you’re done. When you get dressed you see that the shirt does cover your bum, but if you lifted your arms up it surely shows a big portion of your ass, so you’ll have to be careful if Harry arrives.

You’re lounging on the couch watching a rerun of House M.D. and scrolling through your phone when Harry arrives.

“Hey there, rockstar!” you greet him teasingly and he just chuckles shyly.

“Is it gonna be my new nickname?”

“Well, you really were one tonight, so I think yes,” you nod making him laugh. Walking further inside his eyes stop on your bare legs and he is quick to notice that you’re not wearing any pants, like you usually do. You immediately tug on the end of the shirt to cover more of your skin, but it’s not really working.

“Ehm, I’ll go and take a quick shower,” he informs you before disappearing in his room first and then rushing into the bathroom.

Looking down at your attire you decide it’ll be better if you threw on some sweats. Harry clearly got a little uncomfortable seeing you so bare, so it’s better to cover up. You’ll just take them off when you go to bed.

Harry doesn’t take too long in there, and when he joins you on the couch you are pretty sure he took a cold shower since no steam followed him when he left the bathroom. His eyes flicker to your now covered legs, but he doesn’t say anything, just makes himself comfortable next to you.

“You like it?” he asks nodding at the TV.

“Yeah, he is such an asshole, but it’s funny,” you huff. “Hey, I took a few pictures tonight. Wanna see if you like any of them?”

“Sure,” he nods pushing himself up a little as you unlock your phone and show him the photos you took of him and the band while performing.

Some of them ended up really cool, you were able to catch the lights and their movements just the right way, especially one stands out where he was holding out a note, basically screaming into the mic, he really looks like a rockstar on that one.

“Can you send me this one?”

“Done,” you smile at him and glancing over you see that he opens the Instagram app on his phone. You watch him crop and adjust it a little bit, then tag his bandmates and finally, he posts it.

“Wow, this is the first picture on your page with you actually on it,” you tease him.

“So you’ve been stalking my profile?” he smirks at you.

“I wanted to check you out before I moved in, but your social media was no help in that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of posting that much, but this was a cool picture.”

“It’s an honor to know that I took the first one featuring you.”

“Actually, this is the second one, but it is the first one where my face is visible,” Harry tells you before turning his attention back to the TV, but the gears start to turn wildly in your mind, trying to remember which picture could be the other one.

Later, when you’re lying in your bed with your door closed, you pull up his profile and stat scrolling down. Most of the pictures fall out, because they have absolutely no trace of any human being on them. But then you stop at the one that features a black silhouette of a man, the one you thought wasn’t him.

Opening up you tap on the tag and see that it leads to Mitch’s profile, but now that you’ve met him, you’re pretty sure it’s not him in the picture. So you take a closer look and as you go over the small details, like the line of his neck, how wide his shoulders are and the untamed curls, you soon realize that it is indeed Harry in the photo.

You push down a moan when realization sets in, because that means that you’re staring at the naked silhouette of Harry and it immediately starts a fire between your legs.

“Jesus,” you whisper as you let yourself stare at the photo a little longer. You weren’t expecting it, but it’s surely making you feel some kind of way.

Locking your phone you throw it to your nightstand before you bury your head into your pillow. You have to press your thighs together quite tightly to make the throbbing sensation stop so you can finally fall asleep. Well, it takes some time before that happens and it’s quite torturous.

Unlike how you planned, Rita finally gets you to download Tinder and give it a try. She helps you set up your profile, and though at first it feels incredibly awkward, you slowly adjust to being out there on the virtual market.

You start swiping left and right whenever you are bored during classes or you’re having a break from studying. Your matches start to pile up and soon enough you start getting messages as well. You reply to the ones you like or find funny and creative, giving them a chance, but not many end up going too far. Somehow the conversations always die down and you lose interest in the person.

Only one guy gets as far as asking you out and getting a yes as an answer. Jordan is a physics major and seemed like a nice and funny guy through the messages, good-looking too, so you decided to give it a go.

So Friday evening you dolled yourself up, put on a nice blouse with your favorite skinny jeans and black heels, ready to head out to your first ever Tinder date.

As you walk out of your room you find Harry in the kitchen in his basketball shorts and a simple black t-shirt making himself a cup of tea. The shorts are hanging low on his waist and as he reaches up to get the hones from the cupboard you get a glimpse of the soft skin on his lower waist. You quickly look away before you could have any further thoughts about what else is under the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, where are you heading all dressed up?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I actually have a date,” you admit nervously as you grab your keys and put it away in your purse.

“Lucky guy,” he smiles and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. There’s just something in the way he compliments you, it makes your knees go jelly.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later? I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” you tell him grabbing your jacket from the hanger next to the front door.

“Have fun,” he nods before you walk out.

Jordan proves himself to be quite frankly the same guy you got to know through messages. He takes you to this Mexican themed bar and you are just chatting over some exciting looking cocktails, but you find yourself zoning out sometimes.

What is Harry doing right now? Is he staying at home? I should have asked if he had any plans. Maybe he is hooking up with someone right now.

You find yourself thinking about way more than you probably should and it’s making you lose your shit. So maybe this is why, or because Rita told you to just go with the flow, but when Jordan asks if you want to go up to his place you say yes.

It’s as awkward and bad as you were expecting, unfortunately. There’s a reason why you don’t hook up with every random guy you go out with once. You are totally on different pages, but when you are lying under him on his bed, you just know there’s no way out.

It’s not that he forces you, because you’re sure he would have stopped if you asked, but it would be so awkward to just walk out because you weren’t feeling the vibe. So at least one of you should enjoy it.

You should deserve an Oscar for that orgasm you fake, it’s so believable. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice that you felt absolutely nothing, just frustration and impatience, he tries to make you stay the night, but you save yourself with a lie that you have to wake up early in the morning so it’s best if you head home.

Your frustration just grows on your way home. You were really hoping to get laid tonight, so maybe that could stop you from fantasizing about Harry, because your thoughts have been wild since you found out that he is the one on that Instagram picture. It doesn’t help that he has been walking around shirtless quite a lot.

Shameful or not, you even touched yourself once thinking about him. You were home alone after a particularly boring day so you thought you’d just get yourself off. Before you could realize where your thoughts have wandered, you were moaning his name as you came hard. You couldn’t look into his eyes that day when he came home, he probably thought you were nuts, basically running away from him.

It’s almost midnight when you get back home, you were expecting Harry to be asleep by now since he has band practice in the morning, but you are surprised to see light coming from his room. As you close the front door, kicking your heels off he walks out, of course, without a shirt, his glorious body on full display.

“Hey, how was your date?” he asks as you step to the fridge to get yourself something to drink. You’ve been so damn thirsty since Jordan was… done with you, you could have asked for some water at least, but you just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

“Ugh, don’t even ask,” you whine, leaning against the counter.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you roll your eyes and Harry chuckles softly.

“Come on, it couldn’t be that bad if you came home so late.”

“Well, it did start off nice, but I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his place.”

“Oh.”

“Worst sex of my life, I wanted out the moment we arrived, to be honest,” you honestly say, feeling a little weird that you’re talking to Harry about it, but you just want to get it off your chest.

“Then why didn’t you just leave?”

“Dunno, I just… I was hoping for just a little satisfaction, but I guess I asked for too much,” you sigh finishing up your water and you walk past him with the intention to grab your pajamas and have a shower that would wash away the happenings of the night, but Harry’s voice stops you.

“Not everything is lost just yet.” Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites into his bottom lip and lets his eyes travel down your body, his intent gaze sends a shiver down your spine. When his eyes return to your gaze your heart is wildly beating against your chest.

“I mean that… I can make you feel good, if you want.”

Your mouth hangs open and your eyebrows shoot up at the blunt offer he just made. At first you’re not even sure you heard him right, but as you replay his words you realize that you indeed heard him crystal clear.

“Are you messing with me right now?” you ask, feeling like it’s all just a joke. He did not just offer to satisfy you because you complained to him about how bad your date was.

Harry takes a few steps closer to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Not really. You want to get off and I would love to be the one to help you with it.”

“But… we live together,” you say and realize how stupid this just sounded, but you hope he gets what you were trying to say.

“So? Does that mean we can’t fuck?”

The way he said that makes your legs go weak for sure. You’ve been fantasizing about things similar to this, but those were nowhere near to actually hear him propose the idea of fucking.

“But… it’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“Only if we make it.”

He walks closer, closing the distance between the two of you and he cups your cheek in his hand as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Harry…” you breathe out, but you already know you gave in. There’s no way you can say him no, not after weeks of dreaming about the exact same thing.

“Just stop thinking,” he tells you before pressing his lips against yours.

He kisses you hard and you gladly let his tongue push into your mouth within a second, kissing him back with the same passion. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands travel down on your sides until they reach your ass and they give it a bold squeeze, making you moan into his lips. You feel him grin as his hands move over to your thighs and he urges you to jump and so you do, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Though you keep your eyes closed, kissing him hard, you can tell he brings you to the couch, laying you down to your back, holding himself up above you. He starts kissing down your jawline and neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself up a bit so he can pull it off, throwing it away to somewhere behind the couch. While his lips are sucking on your breasts wherever they are bulging out from the lacy bra, his hands work fast on your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, tugging them down until you can just kick them right off.

“Matching set? You were really counting on having a good time tonight,” he mumbles against your tummy as he kisses his way down on your body.

His right hand reaches up and cups your breast before it slides under you and easily unclasps your bra. You quickly slide the straps off and throw it to the side, so now you are lying under him only in your panties, whimpering and panting at every kiss he leaves on your body.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hums glancing up at you, sitting between your legs as he slides just one finger over your soaking wet panties, running it along your throbbing center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathe out.

“How exactly do you want me?”

“Jesus, just eat me out, Harry!” you shamelessly moan and he smugly smirks before he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down, throwing it to the ground.

Now you’re lying completely naked in front of him, and he pushes your knees farther apart, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls as he gets closer and without a warning, he licks into you.

You moan in sensation as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue working perfectly against your bud. Your hands find their way into his hair and you grab a handful of it in each. Oh, how many times you’ve thought about doing this!

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel him push a finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out a few times before he adds another to it. He quickly picks up his pace as he keeps sucking on your clit, getting you closer to your orgasm with every lick.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” you moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even breathe.

“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbles against your wet clit and just a few more pumps later you came, screaming his name.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” you breathe out when he climbs up on you smirking.

“You think you can handle another one?” he asks, pecking your lips softly. Looking down you see how hard he is and even if you were on the verge of dying you would have said yes. There’s no way you let him get up from this couch unsatisfied after the orgasm he just gave you.

Instead of saying anything, you push on him until he is sitting on the couch and you have your knees on his sides.

“I think you are a little overdressed, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly as you bring a hand down to his erection, cupping it through his shorts and underwear.

Harry cranes his neck so his lips could meet yours again as he lifts his hips up, pushing his shorts down along with his boxers. You sit back down to his lap and his erection presses against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask breathlessly, but Harry shakes his head.

“I would last, I just want to fuck you,” he growls and you swear to God that was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Condom, we need a condom,” you tell him, still kissing his lips.

You get off him and he quickly runs into his room, shortly returning with a condom between his teeth. He rips the package on his way and falls back to the couch, rolling it on carefully. When he is done you swing your leg over him and get on top again, holding onto his broad shoulders. He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up to your center and you give yourself a moment to admire his naked beauty right in front of you.

You look into his sparkling eyes and leaning down you kiss him hard as you slowly ease down to his length, his cock slowly filling you up fully.

“Oh fuck!” he moans at the feeling of you around him. His fingers dig deep into your waist as you stay still for a few moments, adjusting to his length. “You alright?” he asks breathlessly. Your eyes meet his and you nod a little before you start moving.

It takes a few moments to find the right pace and get yourself comfortable, but when you finally do, you just can’t stop. His hands are on your ass as he guides your hips a little and you feel the rings on his fingers against your heated skin. He buries his face into your neck nibbling and kissing on the soft skin wherever he reaches.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Y/N,” he grunts when you let your head fall back, feeling your orgasm slowly building up again.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum again,” you pant, picking up a faster pace, desperate for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good!” he moans wrapping his arms around you as he holds you still, stopping you from moving, but instead he starts thrusting into you, his cock buries so deep into your pussy, your eyes roll back into your head from the feeling.

“Yes! Don’t fucking stop!” you scream as he keeps fucking you hard.

It doesn’t take too long until you fall completely apart and cum again, your legs basically turning into jelly. Just a few thrusts later Harry cums as well, thrusting deep into you a few more times as he moans into your neck.

You lie completely numb on him, his fingers gently stroking your naked back as you try to come back to reality. When you lean back and your eyes meet again you are still speechless.

“I’ve literally wanted it since the day you walked into this place,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Really?” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, really. Seeing you around, sometimes without a bra under your shirt completely killed me most of the time.”

Your cheeks are heating up, you didn’t think he noticed when you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t be so shy, you have amazing tits, you are not allowed to wear a bra anymore around here,” he teases you grinning as you laugh and leaning down you kiss him shortly.

“I had quite a few fantasies about you too,” you admit making him raise his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm, especially after you walked out of the bathroom naked, even though I didn’t even see your dick then.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he pushes his hair back from his forehead, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“So…” you shyly start, ”what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… we live together and we just fucked. What does this mean for the future?”

“Well, I thought that next time we could do it the right way. I could take you out on a proper date, and then fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

You laugh at how blunt he is, but you love the idea he just proposed.

“Okay. Sounds fine by me.”

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles flatmates au #harry styles friends to lovers

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cdroloisms · 4 years ago

Note

yk, I always thought of c!dream to perfectly fit the saying “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” and every time I think about it I get even sadder send hepl

hello !! it’s been a bit, so sorry anon, but ty for ur patience :D

but yeah !! that saying REALLY fits c!dream - he’s someone that has done a lot of awful, unjustifiable things, but they were all for a Reason, as much as people like to think otherwise. he’s said so before, repeatedly - it’s all for a vision of the smp as it “used to be,” one “giant family” that can be happy again. and obviously, what he does isnt right, and will never be right - but in the end it’s all in a very twisted attempt to find a home he lost, which makes his character all the more twisted and tragic, yknow?

sometimes i wonder what an earlier dream would say, after seeing how far he’s fallen, which is what really led to this oneshot - it’s a bit messy, but i like it nonetheless. c!dream is a disaster that makes me Very Sad

tw: derealization, implied torture, hallucinations, injuries, dark content, mentioned abuse, manipulation, emotional distress, implied suicide, panic attacks, self-hatred

“Was it worth it?”

Dream blinks, looks up; this is new. He’s no stranger to hallucinations, of course - they’d started somewhere around the first week or two of solitary, and had only grown in frequency and duration as time went on, but this has never happened before.

The figure standing - well, sitting in front of him is hazy at the edges, indistinct, little more than a splash of green and grey, blown out at the edges by the bright white highlights from the lava lighting them from behind. Even so, Dream is all too familiar with the craftsmanship of the iron armor they wear, with the bright green hoodie tucked underneath that he’d once worn like a second skin. The figure’s face turns just enough to catch the slightest sliver of a mask.

“Well?”

“You’re me,” Dream says - breathes, really, his throat too sore for the words to be much more than a labored exhale. The other Dream turns, the lava throwing shifting shapes in orange and red all over his chestplate, his mouth visible and pulled into a frown underneath the bottom edge of the mask. Dream touches the cracked surface of the one sitting on his own face reflexively, feeling the jagged hole on its left side surrounding his eye, the edge pulled over his chin to keep as much of his face obscured as possible.

“Well, I mean,” the other Dream’s hands come to the edges of his mask, easing it over to the side of his face in a practiced motion; his eyes burn brilliantly in the dark room, green and furious and bright. “I wouldn’t exactly say that, now.”

Dream knows that this man isn’t him - well, isn’t him anymore, doesn’t have the burn scars that trail all over his body, doesn’t know the feeling of his stomach turning itself inside out in pain and emptiness, doesn’t know how it feels to have an axe dragged painfully, slowly over his skin over and over and over and over until he’s screamed his throat raw. This is the ghost of a man that has not lived and died a million times, that does not know the feeling of blood on his hands better than he does kindness, that can think of other faces and feel something other than shattered ribs and remembered pain.

“Was it worth it?” The other Dream watches him, eyebrows furrowed, insistent. It’s hard to remember that this was once him, that he has a face made of skin and muscle and bone instead of porcelain and leather even with the bruises and dried blood beneath his mask reminding him otherwise. The expressions on his face, the ones that must be on Dream’s own face, feel foreign, like they belong to someone that isn’t him. Maybe that’s the point.

“You’ll need to get more specific,” Dream’s voice cracks, throat protesting at the strain pulling at the still healing wounds from within it. Dream takes the pain, boxes it up, files it away; he’s becoming pretty good at that. “Was what worth it?”

The other man throws his arm out in an arc, gestures vaguely at the entire cell. “This! All of this- this prison, what you did to Tommy, what you did on Doomsday, what you did in the vault.” His words burn with a dangerous fury, and Dream closes his eyes. It’s not real. It’s not real. “You ruined everything! You destroyed our home! Everything is gone and it’s all your fault!”

“Don’t-” Dream’s voice cracks, shatters in on itself, and he swallows around the pain and pushes on. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing as me.”

The other man scoffs, a fiery light dancing in his pupils. “As if. This is all your fault. You didn’t have to exile the kid. You didn’t have to blow up the community house. And you sure as hell didn’t have to manipulate a fucking teenager, you sick fuck.”

The voice morphs, overlays with the echoes of voices he hasn’t heard in what feels like an eternity. His back burns, stings; his head pounds furiously and threatens to plunge his world into darkness. Through it all, green eyes stare at him, twin flames in his ever blurrier vision, looking for all the world like a god handing down judgment.

“You know you would,” Dream mutters, each word dropping and shattering on the ground like broken glass, “if you had to sit in here for just a chance at bringing them together, you would. If you had to burn the whole damn server down for them, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

The other Dream shakes his head, teeth bared. “Don’t you dare pretend that you did this for them. Don’t you dare pretend that you don’t deserve this.”

I deserve this. I know, I know, I know. “But you would.”

The hallucination’s shoulders rise, fall; it’s hazy, shimmering from the heat, but the eyes glow ethereally and feel more real than anything in the cell.

“You’re an idiot, you know?” He laughs, and Dream tastes iron and ash and salt. “You’re so fucking stupid. You- you thought that the problem was Tommy. You blamed everything on Tommy because you couldn’t see him as anything other than the person that ruined our server and you’re so fucking stupid.”

The voice distorts, echoes in on itself; a half-hearted whisper of wrong wrong wrong rises in Dream’s mind and melts under the fury of the other’s glare. The image shimmers, shifts, and the other Dream- is he even Dream, anymore? - smiles humorlessly, stepping closer. It’s not real, Dream knows, because the image is hazy and flat and wrong but his mind echoes with the sound of shoes scuffed against obsidian and a netherite blade dragging against stone and the book, Dream, and we’ll stop-

“The real problem was you. It was always you. You were the one that ruined the server, you were the one that blew up the community house, you were the one that destroyed L’manburg. You are the one that everyone hates, that everyone fears. You are the villain, Dream, a monster. You’ve always been a monster. Now that you’re gone? The server is finally at peace. You were the problem.”

“And- well, Dream,” The figure leans over, lips right by Dream’s ear, and when they speak their voice is sweet-sharp, all-too-familiar. Quackity. “I guess you should’ve fuckin’ offed yourself when you had the chance.”

He flinches back, eyes squeezing shut, hands scrabbling around his neck. His lungs heave and he tries to suck in air but he can’t there is lava in his chest like everything inside has been torn apart like the words have ripped through him like he’s no more than wet paper and he chokes and stutters on the exhale and it’s not real it’s not real it’s not-

(That night, long after Quackity leaves with a fresh bouquet of bloodstain blooms splattered over his shirt like a field of blooming poppies, after the Warden leaves from forcing another round of health potions down his throat, Dream curls around his ribs in the back corner of his room, watching the lava fall.

Was it worth it?

He laughs, low, bitter, every inch of him feeling scaped raw and open and hollow, thinking of a world without himself in it, of a sky and earth and family with the ugly parts cut neatly away. He thinks he must be a wither skeleton, watching as everything his fingertips touch crumbles away into black rot and ash, breathes in and out and hears the same echoing rattle from deep within his chest. Was it worth it?

It must’ve been, he tells himself, even as the sound of a drop of brilliant purple magic falling against the obsidian makes his muscles seize, leaves him cowering under a blow that does not come. It must’ve been worth it, because-

What was this all for, if it wasn’t?)

#tw derealization #tw torture #tw hallucinations #tw injuries #tw dark content #tw abuse #tw manipulation #tw emotional distress #tw suicide #tw panic attacks #tw self hate #queue <3 #q stream aftermath #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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daydreamed-snippets · 4 years ago

Text

TW: Graves. Claustrophobia. Panic Attacks

The first thing the hero was aware of was the sound of their own breathing.

Measured, shallow, slowly inhaling, and exhaling in the quiet. They breathed in, noting that they were on their stomach and that their ribs expanded unencumbered. Good. That meant there weren’t any ropes securing their arms to their body. That was a small victory in itself.

Still, sound was of little consequence to the hero if they couldn’t see anything. Their power depended on sight, on the ability to stare down a target, and the dilation of irises to push illusions into the target’s mind. With no light and no line of sight, the hero was effectively powerless. Left with a handful of acrobatic tricks, and the uncanny ability to run like hell when things got too hairy.

Use what you got.

They could almost hear their cousin’s voice in their head, berating them with that parental tone they carry. You call yourself a hero, for godssake, you can’t always rely on your powers. Improvise.

So the hero curled their fingers against the floor, fingernails scraping across the wood. Ok, maybe they were in a closet, or a crate, or box of some kind. The air was stale, unmoving, and humid. The darkness was oppressive not even the faintest sliver of light to be seen. Defiantly more of a crate than a closet, or else, they surmised, they would be able to see the seam of the door. And the air would be cleaner.

They guessed the supervillain didn’t think them a threat in total darkness, powerless and dazed. Not when the hero was stupid enough to underestimate them as they did. Sneaking into their compound, the hero assumed the element of surprise was on their side. All they had to do was find the server room, and plug in a drive that carried a virus strong enough to crash the supervillain’s whole system. Wiping out the computer’s memory completely. Just slip in and out without anyone knowing. Even if they were caught, they had reasoned arrogantly, all they needed to do was ensnare the supervillain’s gaze, trapping them in a hellish landscape.

They couldn’t realize it then but it was a stupid and reckless idea. They didn’t account for the level of security they encountered in the compound, nor how quickly and how many henchmen showed up when the alarm was tripped. They certainly hadn’t planned much of an exit strategy. The hero just saw red when it came to the supervillain. And when they became surrounded they knew it was impossible to hold everyone’s gaze. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

So the supervillain threw them in a box to rot… or to torture later.

They tried not to let that crowd their mind as they moved on to other observations, letting out a long, sharp breath through their teeth, frustration evident. But they couldn’t shake the thought that this showed just how green they were to the field of heroics. Only a novice when you looked at the big picture, what an idiotic kid caught up in the…

That trail of thought stopped when they felt their breath blow back on their face like they were mere inches from something. Air caught in their throat. Suddenly they were keenly aware of a consistent rising and falling beneath them that they didn’t notice before. Something solid and soft and nice. They were on someone; their face planted in the crook of a neck.

The person moved and the pleasantness of warm skin brushed against their nose.

“Try not to move too much,” the person said, strong fingers tracing up their side in a tantalizing touch.

A transient moment washed over the hero. Their body going instantly ridged like a deer caught in headlights. Flattening their palms on what they imagined was either side of the person’s head, the hero shot upwards rising several inches before they butted their head against a wooden ceiling.

“What the hell?!”

“I did say try not to move too much,” the voice came again, the inflection rich, vibrant, and horrifyingly familiar. “Steady your breathing. In my estimation, we don’t have much oxygen left.”

No.

Gods no.

They remembered that voice all too well. It often called to them in the catacombs of the city’s slums, laughing when they stumbled over their own budding abilities. Teased when the hero was forced to retreat. Mocked them for shivering under the villain’s frigid powers, like a little whelp left out in the cold, they would say.

The villain had said a lot of things to them amid battle in a voice as slick and as icy as their capabilities.

“Wh-what is this? What’s going on?” Arms shaking, the hero forced themselves to perform an awkward plank, elbows bent, rising on their toes so that their body wasn’t touching the villain.

“Isn’t it obvious?” came the courtly reply, and the hero could imagine a sardonic smile play across the villain’s lips. “We’ve been buried alive together.”

Blood drained from their face at those words. No wonder the air felt stagnant and hot. No wonder their breath was shallow, quickly becoming labored. It felt like a weight slammed into their heart and their stomach flopped, threatening to overturn.

“No. No,” they gasped, unable to catch their breath. “H-how do you know?”

“You’re a heavy sleeper, do you know that?” The villain asked it like it was the most curious thing at the moment. “I woke up shortly after they lowered this makeshift coffin into the ground. I could hear them toss dirt onto it. Luckily this wood is flimsy enough. I managed to put a small hole in the lid with my shoe before you roused.”

Oh.

They just bumped their head on the lid of the coffin they were buried in.

The villain’s words soaked into their soul, stirring up an unknown and until now dormant phobia. They were buried alive with the villain with no way out, and only minutes of oxygen left. Seconds even. They could feel the CO2 building up, stifling their lungs. Walls pressing in on them. This coffin wasn’t meant for two people, it wasn’t big enough, there wasn’t enough room.

It can’t end like this.

The hero had only taken the Covenant’s oath months ago. They weren’t really supposed to be an official hero yet. Their request to be recognized as one was a desperate attempt to stop the supervillain’s rampant crime spree in a part of the city the Commissioner didn’t give a shit about. Their training had been pushed off, their commencement a letter in the mail. They hadn’t even stepped foot on the top level of the city yet.

They need to get out.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. This can’t—” they rasped, choking.

“I did not say that to make you panic, little gorgon,” the villain said, taunting and saccharine and smooth. Why so smooth? They were going to die here too, didn’t they see that? “Pattern your breathing. You will use up more oxygen if you panic.”

How could the villain be so damn calm? Both of them were in over their heads. Literally. This was it. The hero would die here, in the arms of their enemy no less.

They couldn’t get a breath.

“What are you doing?” the villain asked, perceiving the hero’s rising panic as they dropped their head, forehead pressed against the villain’s chest.

“I can’t, I can’t breathe! It’s too—I can’t—”

“Yes you can, settle your nerves. You’re hyperventilating and that will use up all of our oxygen before we have a chance to think. Listen to the sound of my voice. Breathe when I do.”

No, they couldn’t. It was too hot. They were sweating. Burning up. They were in the pit of hell and there was no possible way they could force air into their lungs. They were going to vomit and suffocate, their descent into death was going to be painful.

Their hands flew to their collar, pulling frantically at the material that hung around their neck. It was constricting. Tightening like a snake. Moving to strangle them. The hero’s elbows dug into the villain’s sides, earning a swift groan.

“You need to listen to me,” the villain said, but they didn’t. They couldn’t. They needed to get some air, they needed to get their shirt off. They were going to die if they didn’t. They clawed at the fabric, ripping it. It was too hot. It was—

“I’m going to touch you now.”

Deliciously cold hands skimmed over the base of their neck, pushing back their shirt so skin met skin. A gentle grip pulled the hero’s head up, exposing their throat, sending the hero’s hand skittering away tasked again with the job of holding themselves up. The villain blew out a brisk wind, and the temperature cooled in the coffin considerably. The hero no longer wanted to scratch at their uniform.

“Lay your hand flat against my chest,” the villain commanded. “Put your weight on me.”

“What? No…”

“Just do it,” their voice held a different kind of ice to it. The mocking tone is gone. “Trust me for once. Our lives depend on it.”

The hero complied.

“Marvelous,” the villain murmured. “Now, inhale when you feel my chest rise. Exhale when I do.”

Beneath their palm, the hero could feel the quickened beats of the villain’s heart, contrary to their serene words. They were anxious too, but the villain still kept their breath steady. Their heartbeat being the only tell that anything was amiss. For some reason that made the hero feel better, and they relaxed a bit.

“Hearken to my voice. Breathe in through your nose, fill your lungs until you can’t inhale anymore. Hold it as I do,” the villain said, demonstrating. “Then let it out through parted lips.”

The hero acquiesced.

When the villain took a deep breath, the hero mimicked it. When the villain exhaled, the hero did the same. They attuned themselves to the villain, resonated with them. Pushing everything out of their mind except for their placement on the body beneath them. The villain might as well have been a beacon of light in the darkness of that coffin. It blinded the hero as if they could see, brows furrowing at the villain’s nearness, eyes tightly shut. Obeying their voice, focusing on them until there was nothing outside of that sole moment. They became too aware. The villain couldn’t move a muscle without the hero being painfully attentive to how broad their shoulders were, how their ribs flared out, and how their waist tapered to narrow hips. They smelled like sweat and dirt, and some strong earthy soap. Intoxicating.

Slowly, they guided the hero’s head back to their neck. The two resting comfortably as they did before. “You’re doing lovely. That’s right. Nice even breaths,” they praised, hands leaving the hero’s neck to stroke long fingers through their hair, driving shivers down their spine with a gentle touch. “Can you talk now?”

The hero’s heart ricocheted. They fought once again to get it under control. They hesitantly said, “yes.”

“What were you doing in the supervillain’s compound?”

“How did you?” the hero swallowed, breathing quickening. A cool hand was at the nape of their neck again, calming them. “How did you know I was there?”

They felt them smile against their forehead. “I had my suspicions, unconfirmed as they were, but the way your breathing has changed just now is telling me everything I need to know. Maybe we should do this more often. Cuddle, I mean. I may just uncover all of your secrets this way.”

The hero was silent. They didn’t trust any reply they gave not to have a squeak in it.

“It was a joke,” the villain said, ambivalent, conveying anything but. “You’ll have to admit this brings new meaning to ‘lying with the enemy’.”

They licked their lips, voice horse. “It’s sleeping,” the hero said in a whisper earning a questioning hum from the villain. “It’s sleeping with the enemy.”

“Now there’s a thought.”

Hating the blush that crept up to their neck, the hero decided it was wise to go back to the question at hand. “I, uh, broke into the supervillain’s compound. I tried to upload a virus to their computer. It didn’t work. I was caught. I ended up here.” Duh, the last part was a no-brainer. Their mind stumbled on. “How, umm, why did the supervillain put you in here? I thought you worked together.”

“We did, but we disagreed on certain matters,” they said in a careful voice. This was the first time the hero was aware of it. They shift their head, wanting more. Obligingly, the villain continued. “I assume you found out that the supervillain has been experimenting on the people in the slums as I did. That part of the compound was hidden away from me. I had no idea how many bodies the supervillain had piled up back there. My discovery angered them, and I can only assume their best revenge was to bury me in here with you.” The villain shifted, getting comfortable. “Perchance they thought we’d kill each other in here. It would have been an effective torture.”

“Why didn’t you kill me? You said that you were awake before me. Why not strangle me in my sleep?”

“I needed you alive, little gorgon, not even I can escape this tomb alone.” The villain’s hands came back, stroking as they went. “And I wanted you to trust me. I know our past is...complex, but it doesn’t have to be like that. We can start anew if you want to do that.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I imagine you want to live, no?” The light teasing in their voice was back. “Well then, we must move now.” The petting stopped, and the hero missed it, much to their chagrin. They shouldn’t get used to this. The villain was still the villain after all. Even though they did help them calm down, diverting a catastrophe.

The hero could feel the villain tense beneath them as they reached up towards the coffin’s lid and pushed. “We are going to punch and kick our way through the top of the coffin. As I said, I couldn’t do much on my own with your body weighing me down, but if you work with me, we may be able to break the lid.”

“How?”

“You’ll turn around in a moment, and push your legs upward when I kick. We’ll both lift the lid once it starts separating from the rest of the coffin. That’s step two. Once the top of the coffin breaks, the soil will start pouring in. We will need to push the dirt down to our feet. More will pour in and we will do the same with it until this coffin is full and you can sit up. Since it’s a newly filled grave, the dirt hasn’t had time to settle and harden. It will be strenuous, hero, but feasible.”

The villain paused. “I am going to unzip your outfit,” they said after a moment. Chilly gradually brushed down towards their chest fumbling with the location of the hero’s zipper. “Lift up for me.” The hero found that they obeyed almost immediately. They stopped themselves midway.

“Why?”

“This is step one. We will need to cover our faces with our clothing so we don’t suffocate while attempting to rise from this grave,” the villain explained, calmly, like it was a simple thing. Except the hero was wearing a jumpsuit. An onesie. Not Covenant issued, but something similar. Their cousin and some neighbors pulled their money together and had gotten the hero an upgrade when they had received the commencement letter. They were ecstatic at the time. Now they regretted it. Nevertheless, the villain’s fingers made deft work, drawing the uniform from the hero’s shoulders and shimming the one-piece down their legs, allowing the hero to kick out of it.

“Now do the same to me.”

Luckily the villain wore a simple jacket, with a side zipper and a light shirt underneath. The hero didn’t have to fumble much in the dark, though they did have to scoot down, back scrapping against the top as their chin rested on the villain’s stomach just to get the jacket off. With how cold the villain's hands were, it was a wonder they weren’t making comments about how hot the hero’s face was. The hero was sure they were entirely red by now.

Pushing that out of their mind the hero grabbed their abandoned uniform and placed it in the hands of the villain who wrapped it around the hero's face. The hero did the same with the jacket to the villain.

“You’re going to turn, and on the count of three we are going to kick,” the villain said loudly, voice muffled. The hero turned and braced their legs against the lid. Counting in their ear, the villain brought their legs up against the lid. Again and again and again until the wood split, and dirt tumbled in. The hero worked to push most of it down. They punched the lid, channeling their anxiety and their anger into their fists, hands breaking on the wood, blood flowing from cracked knuckles. Hands on their back pushed them, and the hero wrestled to sit up, fighting against the weight of the dirt. Fighting to cheat death. The claustrophobia was almost too much to bear, any moment feeling like they would succumb again.

They broke the surface.

Clawing at the ground they lifted themselves out with the last of their strength, ripping their uniform from their face, collapsing on the ground mere feet from the grave. The villain followed soon after, comparable to a zombie from a crypt. For a long while neither budged, breathing deeply, staring at the morning sky.

But soon somebody did move. They were always the first to move. This time, crawling over to the hero, wildly panting. The villain was covered in dirt, hair mused and blood dripping from cuts on their legs—but their eyes. Those eyes were iced, intense, dissecting the hero’s alive.

With a fright, the hero realized that their mask was removed when they yanked off their uniform. They were exposed, identity laid bare, and in nothing but their undergarments no less. They turned their head, hiding their face in shadows cast by the dawn.

Tsking, the villain’s cold hand shot out, seizing their chin, maneuvering their head the way they please so that their face was turned towards dayspring. “None of that. Not when we’ve been so intimately acquainted,” they said, a honeyed inflection. “Now I get to see the face behind the mask.” They smiled, admiring how the hero’s eyes widened in fright. “I didn’t expect you to be so fetching for a vagrant playing the hero. You always did run away whenever our battles went poorly for you. I’ve never gotten a glimpse before.”

Drawing themselves up to their knees, the villain loomed over them, bringing both hands to cup their face. Something in their eyes gave the hero chills, all instances of compassion and kindness gone. Replaced by a sick kind of affection.

Improvise!

Defiantly, the hero raised their chin, staring bolding at the villain’s eyes, willing their powers to trap the bastard in a nightmare. To keep them from doing whatever it was that swept through their villainous mind.

But nothing happened. They were too weak to call upon their power. Shaking, exhausted, both hands laid useless at their side, crippled. The pain of their knuckles screamed at them, needing attention, needing an outlet. The hero mewled feebly, a single tear streaking down their cheek as the villain’s hand wrapping around the hero’s nose and mouth. They clamped down cutting off the hero’s air supply.

“While I would love to say it’s nothing personal,” the villain said quelling the hero’s jolts and jerks as the latter’s eyes drifted closed after a violent struggle, body going lax in their hands. “That wouldn’t be the least bit true, would it?”

Scooping the hero in a bridal style, mindful of their broken hands, the villain looked towards the skyline, chuckling. “I’ve had my eye on you since you started sniffing around into our little operation, gorgon. Though the method could have been different, it was nice of the supervillain to drop you in my lap so to speak. And I’m not one to waste this golden opportunity to take you to my lab and slice you up bit by bit. I will make sure to take detailed notes. I’ve never experimented on a hero before.”

#this is wayyyy too long #im sorry #Relictus City #hero #villain #supervillain #hero x villain #villain x hero #Heroes of Covenant #buried alive #my writing #snippet #more like a #short story #writblr #I misspelled henchmen as hunchmen and now I can’t

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