#again: please make sure to read the content warnings beforehand on this one! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dawn-moths · 2 months

Text

"Till Death, What's Left"

CHAPTER 1

Tomura & Dabi x Female Reader

word count: 23,000+

part 1 * part 2 * ...

(A quirkless AU where after fleeing a treacherous incident, you find yourself caught up in the company of two strangers who also seem to have just narrowly escaped their own horrors. Unexpected events keep the three of you crossing paths. Maybe it’s twisted coincidence. Maybe it’s fate. And maybe, just maybe, the three of you could make the perfect trio to perform a string of robberies with payouts high enough to change your lives forever.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! concept inspired by the music video for “365 Fresh” by triple h, title taken from the lyrics, drug mention, drinking, sexual harassment/assault, violence, blood/gore, suicidal thoughts/actions, angst and trauma, jealousy, love triangle.

*i'm reposting this fic in hopes that it reaches a wider audience this time given it originally went up back when i was sh*dowb*nned. also because chapter two will be coming out soon and i'll be putting in a lot more consistent work into it throughout this year.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The alleyway was narrow, cluttered with stray trash cans and empty produce crates and abandoned pieces of furniture that were littered with holes, serving as a metropolis for the vermin that scampered through the dirty, downtown streets.

The clouds covered the moon, another storm likely on its way based on the warnings grumbling from the distant, low rumble of thunder, the air thick with the humidity of the summer season. Suffocating, almost. Each breath taken was labored, the acrid tastes emanating from the city laying heavy on one’s tongue.

And, as painful as it was to draw in air under normal circumstances amidst this kind of weather, Dabi was running, his lungs burning every time he forced them to suck down more oxygen. His spiky black hair stuck to his forehead and back of his neck with a layer of building sweat, his old black boots nearly falling apart at the soles, brittle laces threatening to snap every time he got lucky enough to tie them up again.

He moved quickly through the obstacles of the alley, swiftly— like the stray cats that were spooked back into hiding with the sound of his fast falling footsteps coming near— but not nearly quick enough.

From behind him, the shouts were always right on his tail.

At the most, their angry voices were only ever the turn of a single corner away, at the least, close enough to grab his beat up old black denim jacket and yank him to the ground by the tattered collar.

If he could get to the abandoned apartment complexes further into the slums, he could lose his pursuers, weave his way through the crumbling buildings, his long, thin limbs slithering smoothly like snakes through the maze of gaps and holes that he knew so well— almost as if they were merely the halls of his childhood home.

Dabi wasn’t accustomed to getting caught. In fact, he’d only ever been sighted twice before, back when he’d first taken to this life after running away at the age of sixteen from the city that now loomed in the foggy distance. The beatings he’d sustained from the rival gangs back then, the near death experience of having his head kicked in by men twice his size and strength paired with the metallic taste of blood running down his throat had taught him to abide by one simple rule.

Don’t steal from someone you can’t outrun.

And Dabi was fast. Always had been, whether it be by wit or physical speed. But tonight, after enduring the beginnings of withdrawal from his beloved painkillers, his vision starting to sway, setting his balance off just enough, he wasn’t on his usual game.

The real kicker of it all is that he could see them come into view— the silhouette of the rundown, deserted apartments only a block or two away— just before his next step found a deep puddle and his feet slid out from under him, body slamming into the brick wall of the connecting alley before the back of his head smacked down on the grimy, cracked asphalt with a sickening thud.

It took his chasers four more strides to catch up, jumping on him immediately and snatching back the cash he’d swiped before beginning the third— and possibly final— beating that Dabi had ever experienced on these harsh streets.

His pale, tattoo covered skin was split with streaks of red, bruises blossoming in deep blue and violet shades across his face and body with every punch, every kick, every deadly impact from the gang as they told him— promised him— that they were going to kill him for this. The blood mixed with the sweat and ran in rivulets down his face, his teeth grit so hard with the pain that he feared they might crack.

But Dabi didn’t beg for mercy, didn’t even ask them to stop once.

He hadn’t the first time he’d been in this situation, or the second time, and now, he almost couldn’t help but laugh after his enemies left him to die lying in that alley.

They should’ve killed me, he thought through his sinister hysteria. They should’ve fucking killed me.

Because pain wasn’t something that Dabi feared.

Pain was like an old friend.

When he knew it was coming— and even when the visit was unexpected— Dabi welcomed the pain.

Because the pain meant he was still alive, even if just out of spite.

But he needed to get more of his pills.

The pills weren’t the farewell to his old friend, pain.

The pills were an “I’ll see you soon.”

He liked the painkillers at night, when he was trying to sleep. Couldn’t sleep without them these days. But after a big break a few weeks back, Dabi had found himself with some extra time on his hands. More time to kill. More time to sleep.

So his nighttime hobby bled into the day, accompanied him through his afternoons and mingled with his lonely evenings.

Before he knew it, he’d found himself in a full blown love affair with the little white pills. His cruel, addictive mistress.

And he needed more.

He desperately needed more.

He’d do anything— had risked his life once already that night— and showed no signs of stopping.

After a while, he sat up with a groan of suffering, clutching his side where he was sure at least two of his ribs were broken, and braced himself against the cold brick wall of the alley to get back on his own two feet.

He had a bloody nose, a split lip, several other cuts and bruises marking his person, one of the more notable ones being a black welt under one of his eyes, the sclera dyed with red where a blood vessel had burst, contrasting starkly against his cobalt blue irises.

Dabi had already looked like hell on a good day and now…

Well, at least he still had his boots, even if they were falling apart.

So he kept moving, preparing to chase the next opportunity for cash.

Because he needed this tonight.

He’d lose his goodman mind if he saw the sun come up and his limbs were still shaking and his blood felt icy hot in his veins.

He was only a few blocks away from the nightlife district. Could practically see the red neon and blinking lights from where he staggered in the darkness.

So he started walking— limping, more accurately— trying not to scrape one aching foot on the pavement behind him where one of the bastards had tried to snap his ankle, and slipped into a shitty looking bar where the light was low enough that the other patrons hopefully couldn’t see his severe state of appearance.

“Hello, ladies,” Dabi began smoothly after clearing some thick, blood infused salvia from his throat, slinking towards the main bar where he saw two lone women drinking with one empty seat between them. He slipped onto the vacant stool and draped his arms over both their shoulders, limbs heavy with fatigue and radiating heat from the fading adrenaline.

They gave him varying glares of disinterest and disgust, but Dabi didn’t mind that.

It wasn’t the girls he was after tonight, anyway.

It was the set of shiny car keys that were placed oh so naively on the counter next to one of the women, the black and silver of the key fob taunting him, begging to be swung around his long, boney, tattoo covered fingers, tossed up into the air, caught, and pocketed as he strolled out of the bar and towards his new ride.

That oughta sell for enough cash to fund his drugs.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you both seem to be alone tonight…” Dabi’s lithe grasp inched closer towards the keys, slow and steady so as to not raise suspicions, yet it was killing him inside not to just snatch them and run. If not for the recent beating, he would’ve. “Might I interest you in my company?”

“We’re good, thanks,” one of the women shot back as she aggressively shrugged Dabi’s arm off her shoulders.

“Awww, c’moooon…” Dabi cooed condescendingly, eyebrows pulled together and lifted with faked disappointment. “Don’t be like that.” His fingers were nearly at the keys now. Just a few more inches and then…

“Dude, are you deaf?” the other asked rhetorically, also irritated at the unwelcome advances. “We’re not interested. Now get lost.”

And…

Just a little closer…

A liiiiiiittle closer…

Bingo.

“Alright, alright…” Dabi stood from the barstool, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets and beginning to step away. “Just tryna be a gentleman, jeez…” And then, just as he’d played out in his fantasy, as he exited the bar and stepped back into the city streets, he twirled the keys around one finger, tossed them into the air, caught them, and headed towards the car whose headlights blinked from down the block as the unlock button from the keys was sensed.

“Dumb bitch,” he chuckled under his breath as he turned the keys in the ignition, hearing the engine start up as the radio turned on, pulling out of the poor excuse for a parallel parking job and speeding off back towards his part of town.

As the high of his success coursed through his veins, he caught onto what song was playing and cranked up the volume, the windows shaking with the bass as “Audi A4” by MISSIO blared through his stolen car.

“I know you’re watchin’!” he called out with the loud song, approaching an intersection where the light had just turned yellow, pressing down harder on the gas pedal. “My A-Team’s rockin’!” There was another vehicle approaching from the adjacent lane, their light soon to turn green. “And I’m not stoppin’!” He ran the red light as he sung along, laughing to himself when the other car slammed on their brakes and held down their horn at him. “One! Two! Three! Four!”

And with that, Dabi had officially crossed back into his part of town.

***

You were just closing up for the night, working the late shift at the privately owned salon and barber shop that you’d gotten a job at by a friend of a friend.

You fucking hated this place.

It always smelled like mold, especially after it rained, and the owner always gave you the jobs no one else wanted to do on top of the job you’d been hired to do, which had originally been to cut hair.

No, your misogynistic, ugly bastard of a boss didn’t even try to hide it. He made it plain as day what his real intentions were in hiring you.

You gotta get into all the cracks and crevices, he’d remind you with a sleazy smirk, watching you with hungry eyes as you got down on your hands and knees to scrub the floor. If you don’t do it this way, it’ll never get clean.

He complained about having to come in to “check on you” all the time, yet always found it in his “busy schedule” to watch you do something as degrading as scrubbing in between the mildew ridden linoleum with a toothbrush. Always had something to say about what you wore to work, no matter what it was, and had even slapped you on the ass a few times before as a “joke”.

Too bad you needed this job. Wouldn’t survive without it. Not unless you wanted to go work at the cheapest strip club in the red light district just to pay for some microwavable meals and barely scrape by on rent.

Yeah, you fucking hated this place. You often spent your time daydreaming about burning it down as you snipped the dead ends off of people’s hair, fantasizing about slitting your boss’s throat with a pair of scissors or straight razor as he hovered nearby and watched you blow dry and style your clients’ new looks.

But tonight, just about ready to walk out of this shithole that you still couldn’t believe anyone came back to, let alone could find in its hole in the wall location, you let out an exasperated sigh when you heard the cheap, rust-rotted bells— one of which was broken— jingle above the front door.

“We’re closed!” you called as you folded the last cloth poncho up and tossed it over one of the chairs. Then just to yourself you mumbled, “God, can’t anyone read the sign…”

But then you sucked in a gasp at the sight of the large, lumpy silhouette that belonged to your boss standing in the entrance to the salon, clutching your heart as he startled you.

“I’m just closing up,” you began as you caught your breath, wanting to get out of here even more now. “What? You forget something?”

“No,” your boss stated sternly as he stepped further into the salon and closer to you, you instinctively taking a step back towards the sinks. “You have one final customer.” He sat down in one of the three chairs and you felt your stomach sink.

This motherfucker.

“Well, are you gonna do your job or are you only good for sweeping and scrubbing floors?!” he snapped, shaking you from your creeping dread.

You grabbed your scissors and comb, trying to steady your shaking hands as you draped the poncho over him.

He was watching you from the mirror, beady eyes glued to the little bit of cleavage that showed from your button up shirt, only ever drifting to find your thighs that were exposed below your jean skirt.

Fucking pervert, you cursed him with distain, snipping away at his greasy, thinning hair as your rage began to boil.

“Oh, and I want a shave too, alright, sweetheart?” he added, mocking tone proving that he knew he was getting under your skin and enjoying every second of it.

Once you were done with his hair you grabbed the straight razor and shaving cream, trying to remain expressionless as you slathered his face with the white foam, refusing to meet the predatory gaze that he kept trained on you while you worked.

“You better not cut me,” he threatened with a leer, flashing the gaps in between his crooked, discolored teeth, some of which were missing entirely. You opened the straight razor, the metal gleaming sinisterly under the fluorescent lights. “If you do…” His hand found your thigh, sliding up to squeeze your ass over your skirt, making you flinch and grit your teeth, jaw flexing in venomous vexation. “You’re not gonna like the consequences.”

Yeah, well you’re not the one with a razor to my neck, motherfucker, you thought with burning malice.

You could see it so clearly, practically feel it as you sliced the blade across his fat neck, skin parting like a hot knife through butter as dark, dangerous red spilled out and drenched his pit-stained polo with gore.

You were sure that no one would miss him.

In the very least, you and your co-workers— the few of them that you had— would be free from his fucked up definition of flirting.

But what would you do with the body?

Surely you couldn’t lift him on your own and you’d probably expend more energy than you currently had available to drag him into the alley out back.

And what about the blood?

You could try to mop it up but…

“What’s the problem, hon?” he asked in that patronizing way you fucking hated when he noticed you hesitating. His hand began to worm its way up under your skirt, a few of his rough, thick fingers sliding under the waistband of your panties at your hip. “I hope you don’t take this long with regular customers.”

Your grip tightened around the straight razor, face scrunching up in disgust and discomfort.

“Hey!” he snapped when you didn’t give a reply, his grip tightening on you as well, making you hiss through clenched teeth and finally shoot your gaze down to meet his. His sharpness softened then, as if he’d won something, another revolting smirk spreading across his thin lips. “Do a good job and I’ll make sure and give you an extra good tip, ok?”

You let out a slow, only slightly shaky exhale, and then, with the blade pressed to his neck, you began to drag the razor along his stubbly skin, careful not to nick him.

He took his hand off you— for now, at least— but that did nothing to ease the fury that was expanding in your chest.

It’d be so easy, the idea whispered ominously. He’s in no position to run, no position to fight back. You have him exactly where you want him. Exactly where you need him.

Like a hot knife through butter.

Once you were done, using a warm towel to dab off the remaining shaving cream, your boss rolled himself from the chair with a grunt and went to inspect your work up close in one of the many mirrors.

“Not baaaaaad…” he praised in a rough, sing-songy tone, again making a lump of anxiety settle in your throat. You tried to swallow it down before you’d have to speak to him again, if he found a way to get another response out of you.

He turned to face you as you refolded the poncho and tossed it back over the chair, huffing out a breath of annoyance.

But just before you could turn around to hurry past him down the short hallway and exit the shop, one of his big hands found your shoulder, startling you yet again. “Now…” Your eyes went wide with terror as his expression morphed into something violent, something that spelled more than just unwarranted touching or sexist remarks. “How about I give you that tip I promised, hm?”

He was pressing you against the sink counter before you got the first syllable of your protest out, your hips digging painfully into the edge while his growing erection rubbed up against the back of you.

“Stop!” you shouted, fighting to break free. “Stop! Let go!”

The straight razor sat open next to the sink.

“C’mon now…” he growled, pushing into you harder as he tried to hold you still, pressing your chest flat to the counter as you twisted and writhed under his grip. “Don’t be difficult. That’ll just make things harder for the both of us.”

Your blood ran cold, causing you to struggle harder, screaming out loud and shrill.

He slapped a hand over your mouth and you bit into his skin, making him curse and then rake his fingers roughly through your hair, grabbing at the roots and forcefully slamming your head down onto the sink counter, making you body shudder with the pain and then still momentarily from the daze of the impact.

The straight razor still sat open next to the sink, the glint of light off the blade blurring in and out of your spinning vision.

“You think I keep you around here ‘cause you’re actually good at cutting hair?” your boss taunted through a short, curt chuckle, undoing his belt as he kept you pinned against the counter. “Yeah, guess you’re as dumb as you are pretty, hon.”

You reached out, movements sluggish at first, and grabbed the razor, sliding it towards you.

“Maybe you should work late more often,” he had the audacity to say next, tugging your panties down, the sounds of threads tearing making your heart hammer in your chest with panic and your stomach turn with nausea. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll give you a raise…”

You began to push up from the counter, spine trying to straighten, the razor gripped tight in your trembling first.

But it wasn’t fear that was making you shake right now.

No.

Now it was nothing but pure, white hot, blinding rage.

“Little slut. Always coming to work dressed like a whore. You can’t exactly blame me for—” But the next insult was cut short as the deadly end of the straight razor buried itself into the disgusting man’s throat, his sputtering gags filling the space where his words used to be as liquid red ribbons spurted from his jugular.

You yanked the blade from his neck, a spray of red speckling your face and front of your button up shirt as you winced and closed your eyes, more of the gore spilling from his neck from between his fingers as he stumbled back and tried to apply pressure to the wound.

You watched as he tripped over his own feet and almost fell back into the chair he’d just had you shave him in, but missed by a couple feet and instead smacked the back of his head against the metal arm rest before dropping like a bag of rocks to the linoleum floor.

The razor was still in your hand, blood dripping off the end of the blade that reflected the bastard’s final dying breaths.

He gaped at you with wide eyes, reaching out with his free hand and seeming to be attempting to plead, to beg for help or mercy or any of the other things he would never have shown you.

But you weren’t a monster like him.

You weren’t going to leave your prey to writhe and squirm in agony.

Because you weren’t a coward either.

No.

For better or for worse, you were going to finish the job.

Like a hot knife through butter, huh?

Let’s find out.

You approached him slowly, careful to stay out of reach from his grabbing hands that would likely pull you down to the floor by your ankle and try to get the one up on you again in his final moments. When you realized just how weak he was growing from the bloodloss, you straddled his fat body, probably giving him one last hard on before it all came to an end. Because the next thing you did was drive the razor into the base of his neck, right where there would’ve been a dip in his collar bones if they’d been visible, repeating the vicious motion until his struggling had finally stilled and he lay there unmoving, his blood covering you both, the light having left his squinting, rodent-like stare.

You stepped off of him then, watching the blood pool around him for a minute or two before the weight of it all came crashing down on you. The straight razor slipped out of your hands, which were trembling in fear now, all prior rage-fueled vengeance gone. And it was the metallic clang of the weapon hitting the floor that finally pulled you back down to earth.

“Fuck…” you exhaled through a shaky breath, looking down at the blood that covered your hands, hasilty wiping them on your jean skirt with splotches of red before rushing over to grab all the ponchos you’d just folded, throwing them down and trying to soak up all the blood that was continuing to pour from his person.

“Fuck… Fuck… Fuck!”

Thank god it was closing, but still. The night would only last so many hours. Would you have enough of them to get rid of the body and hide the evidence before tomorrow morning’s clients came knocking?

***

There was so much blood. Way more than you thought there’d be, that was for sure. All the ponchos were ruined with a dark, rusty red. Discarded thoughtlessly in the dumpster out back where you’d painstakingly dragged the body to slump alongside all the trash it belonged with.

Someone would find him. There was no doubt about that.

But by then, you’d be gone. The shop would be clean. Or clean enough to buy you a little more time, at the very least. And you’d most likely have packed the few belongings you had back at your dingy, cramped apartment and skipped town.

You didn’t know where you were going but the one thing you did know was that you couldn’t stay here.

It had to be nearly two in the morning when you finally stumbled out of the shop, not remembering if you locked up behind you but not giving a shit at this point, hurrying down the short span of alley that would lead you back out onto the hopefully abandoned main streets, when the blinding glare of oncoming headlights stopped you in your tracks, causing you to freeze in the middle of the narrow road where a car was barreling towards you.

If it killed you, at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the cops hunting you down.

But it stopped with a jolt and a screech only a few feet before colliding with you, the driver inside slamming back against the headrest with the force before you both just stared at each other through the windshield with wide-eyed, surprised and terrified expressions.

Dabi noticed the blotches of red that were freckled across your white shirt, the smudges of rust on the faded denim of your skirt, saw the bits of blood that had dried in your hair and on your face where you thought you’d wiped the evidence away.

He turned down the blaring music and opened the driver’s side door, stepping out and looking at you for a moment as the headlights continued to cause you to squint and shield your vision with one hand, only able to see the stranger’s silhouette— a tall, lanky shadow with spiky, wild hair.

What he’d meant to say was get out of the road, but instead what came out was, “Need a ride?”

You nodded, trying to gulp down the remnants of the trauma you’d just been through over the past couple of hours.

“Then get in.”

So you did, having no problem listening to this man without hesitation— well, you had minor hesitation, but still— though you supposed that this man hadn’t tried to assault and rape you.

If he did, you wouldn’t have your straight razor, but now that you’d done it once, you supposed you wouldn’t be afraid to kill again.

But he didn’t try to put his pale, tattoo covered hands on you. Just glanced down at the blood that stained your hands and asked with a sarcastically curious, “What happened?”

“Nothing…” you shook your head, trying to hide your hands by sitting on them, feeling the still drying blood sticking to the underside of your thighs, staring out the window and hoping that he would become more distracted by the road than your crime. “You can just drop me off near the train station.”

The man, who you now noticed had tattoos not just on his hands but pretty much everywhere— the ink trailing up his wrists and arms, his neck, even some migrating under his eyes— along with cuts and bruises of his own, and bright, clear, damn near entrancing blue eyes simply put the car into drive and continued down the narrow side street towards where you’d directed him.

***

Tomura Shigaraki had tried to kill himself numerous times before.

He’d tried suffocation, drowning, pills, leaning off the edge of a bridge and peering down at the drop that was sure to end him the moment his body hit the concrete.

He’d tried— and succeeded— at taking his own life numerous times before in the safety of his own mind. Took comfort in imagining his lifeless body lying still, undisturbed on a sidewalk somewhere or, better yet, in the comfort and familiarity of his own home.

And, a few times, he’d tied a plastic bag tight around his head and breathed until all the air was sucked out only to then panic and then tear it open, taking in big gulps of air and coughing out his impulsive stupidity.

He’d gotten into an overflowing bathtub completely clothed and submerged himself beneath the surface, tried to hold himself at the bottom until his body began to convulse and his chest tightened in pain, only to then break through the surface and yield the same result as when he’d failed previously.

But tonight, Tomura had found a fool proof plan.

There was always traffic downtown, especially on the weekend when the bars and clubs and general nightlife scene was at its most concentrated.

So as he walked along the sidewalk in his beat up old red converse, one of the laces untied and threatening to trip him with every step, he tried to imagine which one would take his life.

Would it be a standard yellow taxi cab? A family SUV?

Or maybe it would be a nice, expensive, spotless sports car.

Maybe it would be red or black or— better yet— white. That way his blood would show up bright against the hood.

Yeah, a white ferrari might be nice, Tomura thought with morbid glee.

But as he stood at the crosswalk, the glowing street sign above his head blinking with the WALK symbol of the little minimalistic figure taking a step forward, he found the one that he really wanted.

It wasn’t a ferrari, but it was white. A Mercedes-Maybach S Class with silver detailing.

And it was going fast.

Even after the light turned to yellow, the speeding car showed no signs of slowing.

Perfect, Tomura thought, bracing himself to step out in front of it at just the right moment.

The street was empty, aside from him and the car, the late hours of the night proving to be a little less optimal for his death than he would’ve originally liked, but if this was it then so be it. Tomura was ready to die.

He was ready to not have anything around to stop him this time.

So he did it.

He jumped in front of the speeding car, his body slamming into the hood just as Dabi slammed on the brakes and skid to a halt for the second time that night— the second time that hour— nearly killing another complete stranger.

Tomura’s body flung back and rolled out into the middle of the street, laying motionless under the glow of the red light.

“What the fuck?!” Dabi shouted as he stepped out of the car, trying to assess the damage but not stray too far as he was still seriously considering just driving off. But he’d already stolen a car. He didn’t exactly want to add hit and run to his list of crimes for the night, though it’s not like it would’ve been the first time. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Should we help him?!” You were getting out of the car now, unsure of whether you should approach, seeming to be pulled towards the body and the car back and forth by an invisible line as you nervously shuffled on your feet. “God, what do we do?!”

“He threw himself in front of me!” Dabi snapped defensively, as if you hadn’t been sitting right next to him and seen the whole thing. “Fucking idiot! God…”

“Well, is he dead or…?” You now started towards the body as Dabi scanned the area, pulling on his hair with stress and frustration. No one was around but that didn’t mean the accident hadn’t been seen.

The scrawny stranger who lay in a heap of black clothing and shaggy, silvery hair wasn’t moving, but still, you couldn’t help but hold out hope.

“H-hello?” you asked once you were close enough that, if he was alive, he might be able to hear you. You knelt down to his level, leaning over him now, trembling hands hovering above his body like you were afraid even the gentlest of touches would shatter him, cause him to disintegrate to dust.

But then the young man groaned and flopped over onto his back, blinking bleary, scarlet eyes up at you. He had tired eyes, dark circles etched in deep, and a scar that ran over one side of his chapped lips.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed as the silver-haired stranger mumbled quiet, incoherent things under his breath. “Hey! Hey, he’s alive!” you called back towards the tattooed man who’d nearly killed you not long ago. “He’s alive!”

Dabi remained by the car, his body leaning against the inside of the open driver’s door with one foot perched on the floor mat, halfway to just abandoning the both of you here and saving his own ass. “Are you fucking kidding me…?” he asked again, though this time mainly to himself.

“Hey, can you hear me?” you asked the person laying on the road in front of you. “Are you ok?”

As Tomura’s vision began to refocus, his voice began to return to him too. As far as he could tell, he was mostly uninjured. His entire body felt like it was just run over by a truck— or, well, actually, it was a Mercedes-Mayback S Class— but other than the constant aching soreness that made it hard for him to move, he was otherwise alive.

Unless…

“Are you…” Tomura began. You leaned in closer to hear him better, his voice a raspy ghost of a whisper. “Are you an angel?”

When you smiled at him then, just a tiny, slightly amused yet relieved grin, Tomura’s eyes rolled back into his head and he let out an exhausted sigh. Or, well, perhaps he too should be holding out hope. Because if you really were an angel that meant that he’d finally succeeded in killing himself.

“Can you stand?” you asked him next. In response, Tomura tried to roll back over onto his side and push himself off the ground. Your hands tried to guide him, to steady his body until he was on his own two feet and had an arm slung over your shoulders while you helped him limp towards the car.

“Hey!” Dabi shouted angrily as the two of you approached. “No! Leave him on the fucking curb! I ain’t chauffeuring another person around!”

“He’s hurt!” you called back in protest, staring up at Dabi with a plea for mercy. “We can’t just leave him!”

“Listen. I said I’d drop you off,” Dabi sneered, glancing at the staggering stranger with revulsion. “Not you and some random guy who was dumb enough to step out into oncoming traffic!”

“Hey, where do you live?” you asked Tomura, who still seemed to be caught in a daze, his weight becoming a little heavier on you as his body began to slump. When he didn’t respond, you just looked back to Dabi and said, “Just drop him off with me. I’ll figure the rest out.”

Dabi stared at you both then, battling with himself on whether you were worth the trouble or not— as if you’d ever been worth the trouble— then gave a begrudging sigh, telling you to hurry up and get back in the car.

You opened the door to the backseat and helped Tomura slide in before running around and reclaiming your seat on the passenger’s side, Dabi taking off before you’d even finished closing your door and speeding recklessly down the darkened night streets once again, clearly not having learned his lesson the first time— or the second, for that matter.

You kept watch on the man in the backseat from the rearview mirror, who just had his head lazily rested against the seat, slouching down and not bothering to put a seatbelt on as he stared out the window with utter defeat. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, there were a few times you would’ve thought him to be dead with how still he was sitting.

“Hey…” you addressed him. He just shifted his crimson gaze to meet yours in the mirror. “What’s your name?”

He averted his eyes again, staring back out the window at the ghost town rushing by outside. “It’s Tomura…” he finally answered after a long, labored breath.

You introduced yourself in return, only getting a simple, barely detectable nod in response.

“And what about you?” you then asked the driver whose jaw was still clenched, back teeth grinding in agitation from the recent events.

“Who gives a shit…” he answered rudely, narrowing his gaze at the road before him, running another red light.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. You didn’t particularly care either, you supposed.

“Ah, shit…” Dabi then said as he noticed the gas meter running empty. You were about to ask him what was wrong, but then he continued with, “Who the fuck goes out with their tank this low?”

While he was throwing a fit over the dwindling fuel, you were starting to recognize the area, only a few more blocks till your apartment complex, but you didn’t say anything as you could feel the driver’s stress filling the atmosphere of the car. And, with this guy, you felt like a simple statement of “hey, my turn is coming up” would be more than enough to set him off right now.

Dabi cut down another side street where he knew a gas station wasn’t far. It was just outside the city, which you’d already been on the outskirts of, but Dabi wouldn’t be able to pawn the thing off if it stopped rolling the moment he parked it in the shady, underground garage of the illegal stolen car salesman he knew, so he had no choice.

And god he needed his pills.

He needed the cash first though, and to get the cash he needed the car.

Fucking million step process just to get some fucking painkillers, he thought bitterly.

But he could complain and grumble all he wanted.

In the end, he’d do whatever it took, just like always.

“Stay in the car,” he’d said in a way that sounded nonchalant, but you knew was an order, slamming the door shut before you could answer and going over to fill the tank.

You looked back at Tomura, who was still gazing out the window in a daze. You couldn’t help but stare at him, tracing the lines of his scars with your eyes, following the way his wavy hair framed his face and the cool light of the street lamps illuminated his pale skin, making his scarlette eyes glow even brighter. A vibrant contrast against all the monochromatic shades that otherwise painted his person.

“Hey…” you began, speaking softer that time, as if trying to soothe him. “Why did you do that?”

He didn’t respond at first, the only indication that he’d heard you being the slight widening of his eyes, the expression reading as if something dire had just occurred to him before dissipating back to exhaustion.

“Do what?” he asked with a bored, tired drone.

“Try to kill yourself?”

Tomura looked at you now, only his eyes moving as if the rest of his body couldn’t be bothered. But he couldn’t hold your gaze for very long, the intensity of your sincerity killing him in a way he’d never considered.

“Dunno…” he lied, giving an awkward half shrug, wincing in pain halfway through and gripping his shoulder with one hand.

“Well it was a stupid thing to do,” you scolded him lightly, causing him to shoot you another one of those feral, wide-eyed glares, head turning a little more this time.

“Yeah, and what would you know about it?” he challenged with a scowl, raspy voice a little more sharp now. A little more dangerous.

“I know that if it were me, I wouldn’t try to drag someone else into it. Especially not complete strangers,” you answered, now wearing a scowl of your own.

But you weren’t actually mad at him, per se.

The way you saw it, even though you hadn’t been the one driving, you still would’ve felt responsible if you’d just left him there alone in the street.

Besides, you’d already taken a life that night and one was more than enough for you.

So you weren’t mad at him. Just concerned.

Because, maybe, at one point or another you’d been just like Tomura. And, possibly sometime in the very near future, you’d be more than willing to throw yourself into oncoming traffic or off a building or bridge or, in the very least, swallow a bunch of pills just to make it all stop.

Because the sight of all that blood— the smell of it, acidic copper mixed with the chemical burning of the bleach stinging your nose— and the sheer fact that, despite the circumstances, you were indeed a murderer as of a few hours ago, well…

The full weight of that was sure to settle over you eventually and, when it did, it just might be too much to bear.

“Whatever…” Tomura puffed out through an exhale of annoyance, looking away from you and back out the window.

Only, Tomura actually did want to answer you. He just didn’t have the right words at the moment to explain it all— that sinking, empty emotion that comes with feeling like you’re completely alone in the world, of having nothing and no one.

Though, a few seconds later, he perked up in the backseat, noticing something amiss as his skittish crimson gaze scanned the scene outside the window.

“Hey…” he said, causing you to glance over your shoulder. “Where’d that guy go?”

***

Dabi walked into the gas station’s convenience store with his hood up, his head down, and his hands shoved into his pockets.

First, he pretended to browse the chip aisle, strolling slowly as he read over all the brand names. Out of the corner of his gaze, he noticed a security camera. He wondered if it was actually on.

The cashier leaned over the counter and scrolled mindlessly on his phone, used to only a few sporadic customers coming in during the graveyard shift. He hadn’t even glanced towards Dabi when he’d entered, probably wouldn’t have cared even if he’d seen all the tattoos that covered his pale skin, that ran down his arms and up his chest and neck and face.

Maybe he wouldn’t care if Dabi tried to rob the place, if he took all the cash in the register and ran off either.

Because Dabi was even more shit out of luck than he had been at the start of the night.

He’d lost that bundle of cash he’d stolen when those guys had caught and beaten him in the alley and the gas station console wouldn’t let him fill his car until he had proof of payment first.

Well, here goes nothing, Dabi thought as he sighed and marched up to the register.

The kid was still scrolling through his phone and it was only when Dabi aggressively cleared his throat did he glance up, face going white when he registered the man standing before him.

“Uh… Can I—” the kid began, but was cut off as Dabi began one of his most ambitious bluffs in a long time.

“Open the register,” he ordered with a growl, voice quiet but stern, pushing one of the fists that were shoved in his pocket closer to the kid, pretending to conceal a gun. “And hurry it up.”

The cashier didn’t hesitate. He fumbled with the drawer and laid its entire contents out on the counter for Dabi to take, backing up and knocking down some of the cigarettes from where they were placed behind the counter while the tattooed thief stuffed the cash into his pockets.

When Dabi was done, he just nodded at the kid and said, “Oh, and gimme one a those,” eying one of the packs of marlboros that now lay scattered behind the counter. The cashier tossed him a pack with a shaky hand and then Dabi left, rushing towards the gas console, feeding in the bills, filling the tank, and then yanking the pump out the moment he heard it click, not bothering to place it back in its holder before jumping in the car and speeding away with a screech, both you and Tomura staring at him with wide-eyes, hands gripping the safety bars above the window as your bodies were jostled around with every veering turn.

“Uh… What ha—” you tried to ask.

“Don’t…” Dabi snapped, making both you and Tomura flinch. “Ask.”

So you didn’t. You remained silent for the rest of the drive aside from directing Dabi where to turn once you reentered the part of town you recognized. When you told him here was fine, he pulled over to the curb. “Um… Thank y—”

“Get out.” Dabi cut you off. He wouldn’t even look at you. You hesitated for a moment, once again wishing that you at least knew this mysterious man’s name despite how he’d treated you, then opened the door to exit. “And you,” Dabi glared at Tomura from the backseat, the silver-haired suicidal a little more alert now. “I ain’t drivin’ you around anymore either. Get out.”

Once Tomura was standing beside you on the sidewalk, Dabi just turned the music back up until it was so loud you could hear “Johnny Wants To Fight” by Badflower in a muffled blast from inside of the car and sped off again, feeling more on edge by the minute and needing to get the stolen car to his contact before the police had a chance to find him first.

And then it was just you and Tomura left in a perplexed daze in the middle of the night a few blocks from your apartment, everything that had happened up until this point feeling like some strange fever dream that you still hadn’t fully woken up from.

“So… uh…” you began, awkwardly eyeing Tomura who was staring at you like an inquisitive animal. “Do you live around here too or…?”

“I don’t live anywhere,” Tomura replied. “Not anymore, at least.”

It had to be three, maybe even close to four AM by now. Tomura looked tired. You were exhausted. You’d both had the same strange experience and just letting him walk away felt wrong, like you really would wake up tomorrow and forget everything, all the blood and black ink and silver-hair mixing together before fading away entirely.

“Do you… want to come in?” you hesitantly invited.

Tomura then seemed to snap out of his dead stare, blinking a few times before answering, “Sure.”

***

“This is it…” you said as you flipped up the switch by the door, the lights flickering a few times before illuminating the cramped studio. Tomura just stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning what little there was to look at before stepping inside. Neither of you really knew what to say now. What to do. When an awkward silence began to fill the space, you asked, “So, um… Can I get you a glass of water or…?”

Tomura then seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was currently in, flinching as he registered that someone was speaking to him and responding with, “Oh, yeah, sure.”

As you took a hastily washed glass out of the sink where you’d left it this morning and filled it from the lukewarm tap, you kept an eye on your guest out of the corner of your vision and rinsed the dried blood from your hands.

He was standing in the middle of the room, honing in on specific details like what books you had scattered across the tiny, uneven coffee table you’d picked up for free from the curbside when you’d first moved here. He studied the dying houseplants that drooped by the fingerprint smudged windows, their leaves and vines having given up on reaching towards the sun long ago. But, one thing he noticed above all else was the single photo you kept on your scuffed up bedside table.

“Who are they?” he asked when you came over to hand him his drink. He took the glass carefully in his hands, as if he feared he might break it.

You took a seat on the end of your bed with your own glass of water, sipping at it as you glanced at the photo. “My family,” you admitted, though wore a sad expression where he would’ve expected one that was a little more, well…

Actually, he didn’t exactly have the fondest memories of his family either.

You thought he might ask you what happened to them, if they lived nearby or if you guys were close, but he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded like he understood and then sipped at his drink while standing a few feet across from you, both of you looking at each other and waiting for the other person to say something else.

You wondered just how long he’d been alone. How long he’d had to endure silence before almost getting killed— then saved, if you could call it that— by you and that tattooed guy in the middle of the street tonight. You almost asked. Would’ve, if not for him speaking first.

“Why did you let me in?” he asked, intentions unreadable in both his face and tone.

“Should I not have?” you inquired. Instinctively you reminded yourself where you’d hidden weapons throughout your apartment— a letter opener in the nightstand drawer, pocket knife underneath one of the couch cushions, multi-tool behind the vase near the front door— just in case things took a turn. Tomura just continued to stare at you, his gaze curious, as if he found you just as odd yet enticing as you found him. “I mean…” you then recovered, “You said you had nowhere to go, right?”

He nodded, bringing the glass to his lips but pausing before taking the next sip, saying, “Did you know the guy in the car?”

“Not until just before we ran into you,” you admitted.

Then Tomura asked “Did he do that to you?” nodding at all the blood on your clothes. You realized that maybe it wasn’t necessarily you he kept staring at with wild eyes, but all the evidence instead.

You’d already nearly forgotten about it.

“Oh…” you exhaled, plucking at your button up shirt and noticing that the bright red had gone rusty now. There was no way those stains were coming out. You’d have to throw your clothes away or, probably a better idea, burn them. “No, he didn’t. That was…”

But you couldn’t finish the sentence. Not even with an insult at your former boss. You just wanted to forget any of it had ever happened.

Tomura then sat on the end of your bed next to you, staring at where the beat up old sofa was pushed up against the wall and gulping down the rest of his water. It was then your turn to study him, decode his appearance as if that would answer all your unasked questions. But, unlike you, his situation was a lot harder to read. He kept it carefully concealed under long black sleeves and faded black jeans, shaggy tufts of hair falling in front of his eyes and hiding parts of his face from you.

Though, there was one thing you hadn’t noticed before, when the only light you’d had to view him by was the dim glow of passing streetlamps or traffic lights. His skin wasn’t just scarred, it was scratched, dry and patchy around his eyes and forehead, eyebrows sparse and chunks of his eyelashes missing as if he’d rubbed them off.

Instinctively, you raised a hand to touch him, wanting to care for whatever condition he had— wanting to understand it better so you could help— but when he saw it coming towards him in his peripheral vision he flinched back, grabbing your wrist to stop you.

You both stared at each other with gaping expressions, scared for different reasons.

“I’m sorry—” you went to say, the words caught in a gasp. But Tomura didn’t look angry. He didn’t look like he was going to hurt you. Instead, he looked at you as if he thought he’d just narrowly protected you from something horrible, like touching him was some kind of curse you might catch. “I didn’t mean—”

But then he let you go, giving you back your wrist, which you cradled in your other hand, and looked away from you. “Sorry…” he mumbled, vermillion stare stuck to the multicolored shag rug hiding the partially rotting hardwood floors. “It’s just… I’m not used to being touched and I…”

Similar to you, Tomura also had a hard time speaking the things he’d much rather forget.

Then, without thinking you blurted out, as if you had just suddenly decided it needed to be freed from the cage of your body, “I killed someone tonight.” Tomura didn’t flinch at that. Just looked back at you with a gaze that either said, “I’m sorry” or “I understand”. Maybe both.

And suddenly you had this fear of rejection, like you expected him to lash out and call you crazy, deride you for committing such a heinous act. But instead he just asked you, “Did they deserve it?”

You cracked a nervous smirk, the fever dream you felt like you were floating in becoming all that more unbelievable. “Yeah…” you said, a stifled, choking sound that was perhaps the dying embers of a sob catching in your throat. “Yeah, he did.”

“What are you gonna do?” he asked next. You felt like the scenery around you was beginning to blur, the walls closing in tighter and tighter until they’d press flat against you and trap you in a cube of claustrophobia.

Your eyes began to tear up. “I don’t know…” The heat that was building in the room was beginning to feel suffocating. You buried your face in one of your hands, the other one holding the half empty glass of water starting to tremble. “I don’t know…” The air conditioner had never worked and even your cheap convenience store fan had broken recently. “I really don’t know…”

Tomura was unsure what to say to you, but he was trying to find the words. Any words. Any words at all to convey to you that you’d figure it out. That you’d be alright but—

But why did he care?

Why did Tomura— someone who’d tried time and time again to end his own life because he was so convinced that nothing was ever going to be alright for him ever again— care whether you sorted out your problems or dug your own grave?

Because she doesn’t deserve that, he figured. She has far more to live for than someone like me.

You were just crying now, your glass of water sitting abandoned on the floor by your feet as you hid your sorrows in both of your palms, body shaking even more as another wave of tremors wracked through your bones, sharp inhales peppered throughout your otherwise silent sadness.

Tomura wished he hadn’t stopped you from touching him earlier. He wished he’d allowed you to reach over and run your careful fingertips over his skin, the scars and the dry patches that cracked and split in thin slashes across his face.

Though, maybe, perhaps, if he could reach out and touch you, you’d allow him to try and care for you the way you’d wanted to care for him. As much as one hollow stranger could care for another, that is.

“They’re gonna find me,” you muttered, words garbled by the thick coating of saliva clogging the back of your throat. “They’re gonna find me and then they’re gonna—”

You froze when you felt a hand— Tomura’s hand— resting on the small of your back, peeking out from your palms as if to confirm that it was actually him that was touching you and you weren’t just imagining it. And he was tense at first. Not gentle and comforting like he had a feeling you could be.

But he was trying.

You were making him want to try.

“What…?” you eventually asked, Tomura’s startled stare becoming too intense for you to hold.

He then mumbled something, his voice so quiet you didn’t catch it at first. So again, you asked him, “What?” and when he repeated himself you realized he’d said, “I want to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the thin film of tears that still glossed over your eyes, lashes spiked and cheeks streaked with drying salt. Your ears were ringing, and suddenly all you could hear was the buzzing in your head. But you felt your mouth moving, felt the gentle vibration of your vocal chords when you said, “So kiss me then.”

Tomura leaned in halfway, the hand on your back clutching your shirt in his fist, trying to conceal just how terrified he was of his own desire— for you and this newfound realization that maybe he did actually want to live, even if only just a little bit. It was overwhelming.

And it was kind of nice, the fact that he wasn’t trying to feel you up right from the get go and pin you underneath him like most of your previous one night stands tended to do. So you kissed him, and he kissed you back, but it wasn’t romantic or sweet. It was rough and desperate, both of you trying to leave proof on each other that the other person existed, that you’d met, that you’d both almost died that night yet had somehow ended up alive at the end of it all, even if one of you hadn’t wanted to.

Tomura had shaky hands. And they were cold, like they had no blood in them, like he really had died back there on the street and was just a walking corpse. They sent a shiver through your body as his fingers brushed against your ribs under your shirt, pushing up until they found the clasp of your bra, fumbling with it absentmindedly as if he wasn’t aware of what his fingers were tangled up in.

You reached behind you and undid it for him, both of you breaking the kiss and pausing for a moment, lips still almost touching as you panted into each other’s mouths and wondered if this was really happening. If you wanted it to happen.

I killed someone, you remembered again. And then I almost watched him get killed.

It was fucked up.

All of it.

Your life.

His.

And definitely the guy who’d driven you two and then sped off without a word.

All of it was just so fucked up.

Has been for a long time, you thought, going back to kiss Tomura again, this time trying to be a little softer, letting him know that you needed things to slow down a bit. But when your tongues met this time, you realized something odd.

Tomura tasted like nothing.

Now that you thought about it, he didn’t smell like anything either.

Maybe he really is a ghost, you thought to yourself with much less concern than you probably should’ve. Either way, you wanted to feel his lips on yours again, kissing him over and over until you felt like some of his rigidness had melted away.

“Wait… Do you really wanna do this?” Tomura asked then, seeming to be second guessing himself now that his thoughts had actually caught up to his actions.

“Do you?” was all you answered in return. You think you wanted to, though, you weren’t exactly sure why.

Does there need to be a reason, you asked yourself. Does there need to be a reason when nothing makes any fucking sense anyway?

When Tomura’s hands started trailing up your body again, you took that as a maybe. When he kissed you again, also being a little softer this time, you took that as a yes.

So you let him have you, taking no issue when he squeezed at your ass or pulled your panties down. Because you could see it in his eyes— this void, empty space where maybe, at one point, his true self had been.

You had also lost your true self.

You couldn’t remember exactly when or how, but you often felt like you were nothing more than an empty vessel, just a body wandering aimlessly without a soul to occupy it.

And at one point, you too had wished for it all to end, having run out of options for escape, tired of scraping at the bottom of the barrel just to earn another day in the pathetic game of survival you supposed you called your life.

But here, now, with this silver-haired stranger who’s name you’d barely learned, you felt like the embers of your dwindling soul were being reignited in its hearth, the flames that maybe would grow into a steady fire coursing warm through your blood.

Tomura didn’t bother with much foreplay. Didn’t need to. You were wet enough already just from some simple touching and kissing. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been like this in a long time— lying underneath someone who you actually wanted to give yourself to, not just shutting out the sensations as you went through the motions when you were late on paying your rent. But Tomura still prepped you the best he could, slipping two of his slender fingers into your fluttering hole and pumping them in and out a few times, scissoring them inside to stretch you.

When you told him you were ready— that you wanted him now— Tomura sunk into you slowly, feeling you clench around him right away and letting out a groan as his crimson eyes rolled back in his head. As he rocked his hips rhythmically, your neck craned and your back arched, breathy little moans escaping your lips.

“Tomura…” you whined as he brought his chapped lips down to suck at your neck, leaving behind his own personal constellation of bruises, biting in sometimes and pulling a gasp or another moan from you.

His hips picked up the pace soon, thrusting into you and making your whimpers come out louder, sounds of pain and pleasure filling the formerly silent, small space of the apartment. You didn’t care if your neighbours heard you. It’s not like you knew your neighbours anyway. Besides, you were still planning on skipping town soon anyway.

“T-Tomura!” you were begging, but for what?

For more?

For him to slow down? To speed up?

Even you weren’t sure anymore.

You just let yourself get lost in the touch of the man you’d only known for a couple of hours yet felt you understood better than some people you’d known your entire life.

It was almost like you needed to prove to yourself that this was still ok after what had happened with your boss. You needed to know that you weren’t broken, that any scars you’d gained from that incident would heal and fade away. Maybe he could be the bandaid on the bullet hole that was the amalgamation of every horrible thing that had ever happened to you. With how good he felt inside you, it sure seemed that way.

And Tomura, well, he’d almost forgotten the last time he’d felt anything, let alone this much of a will to live.

Because every time his hips snapped against the inside of your thighs and your silky, pulsing walls clenched around his cock, or he pulled another one of those sweet little sounds from you, whenever your lips met his or his lips nipped at your neck, the strangest thought occurred to him.

Maybe I don’t want to die.

He wouldn’t trust that statement in the long run but for now, even if just one very strange, very ominous night, he’d allow himself to believe it.

And as the two of you curled up under the covers, soaking in each other’s body heat, Tomura’s long, thin arms wrapped around you like you were the only thing he’d ever had worth holding onto, he thought to himself…

Maybe with someone like her, life is worth living.

***

“Why do you want to die so bad?” you’d asked Tomura after you’d both woken up that morning, both your hair tousled with sex and sleep.

The two of you stayed in bed until nearly noon, the summer sunlight that poured in through the spotted windows giving you both a warm glow, sun dust visibly floating through the beams.

“I don’t know,” Tomura had answered, though that time he hadn’t just used the excuse as a filler for a question he didn’t feel like explaining. “I just… It’s been like that for a long time.”

You’d kissed him— a tender, soft kiss that made Tomura feel loved for the first time in, well, in forever— and he’d tried to kiss you back in the same way, hoping that you could understand through the gesture that you’d saved him— were still saving him— from the black abyss of his death wish one touch at a time.

“I was like you once,” you admitted then, wearing a sadness that Tomura was used to seeing in his own reflection, one that lived deep in someone’s eyes. And then it was his turn to ask you why. “Because,” you gave a short shrug. “I’m never getting out of here— out of this…” You then looked around your apartment as if that summed up the entire history of your life’s problems. You didn’t necessarily believe in heaven, though, if there really was an afterlife of some sort, you just hoped it really was a better place like people always said. Even if it were merely a plane of existence where you wouldn’t have to feel any more pain.

Tomura wanted to tell you that you were wrong, that someone as beautiful and kind and caring as you deserved so much more than this, deserved to live more than most people. Definitely more than someone like him and definitely more than someone like that guy who’d driven you both around so recklessly last night.

“I’m sorry,” was all Tomura could think to say as he held you closer to him, afraid to let you go, like if he did you’d turn to sun dust and disappear on the breeze that was seeping through the cracked window overhead.

“Don’t be,” you replied evenly, sounding tired. “Besides, I’m still alive.” You looked up at him, admiring the way the light hit his scarlet gaze. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Before either of you could say anything else, your phone began to buzz from the nightstand. You wriggled from Tomura’s grasp to see who it was, your blood freezing in your veins when you read one of your co-workers name’s pop up on the caller ID.

“What is it?” Tomura asked when he felt you tense.

A million different possibilities rushed through your brain at once.

Did they find the body?

Of course they did.

Do they know I did it?

Are the police already on their way?

No, they would’ve already gotten here.

Shit, where did I leave my shirt? It’s still got blood on it.

“Uh…” Your voice shook and you cleared your throat. “One second.”

You threw your legs over the side of the bed, reached down to pick up the nearest article of clothing, which just so happened to be Tomura’s black crewneck, and slipped it over your head, the oversized garment covering enough of you to feel decent as you picked up the phone and retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, as if the walls were thick enough to keep even your low muttering from being overheard.

Just play dumb, you reminded yourself before accepting the call. You went home last, but not too late. Only a little bit after the hairdresser who finished up before you. You didn’t see your boss. Just went home.

“H-hello—?”

“Oh my god!” your co-worker boomed from the other side of the call, making you wince and pull the phone back from your ear for a moment. “Are you ok?! Did you hear?! I can’t believe this—!”

Yep. They’d definitely found the body. But, luckily for you, it didn’t sound like you were a suspect yet.

You tried to swallow down any evidence of your so-called “crime”, attempting to sound surprised and confused, but not so much so as to expose that it was all an act.

“Someone stabbed him and left him in the alley behind the shop!” your co-worked continued in disbelief after you asked what happened. “Thank god you got home before running into whoever it was. I can’t imagine!”

There would be a more thorough investigation soon enough, you knew. The police would search the shop and find traces of his blood and probably the straight razor with your fingerprints on it. You could just argue that you’d had a customer earlier that day who’d booked a shave, or better yet, someone else at the salon would use it and mark it with their touch too.

But you would become a suspect. It wasn’t a matter of if, only of when.

“Are you on the schedule for today?” she then asked, and you could hear the flipping of pages in the background, your co-worker already working on answering her own question.

You knew you were, but there was no way in hell you were planning on going in. Cops were probably crawling all over the alley. If they stopped you for questioning, you weren’t sure how well you could hide the dread that was sure to show on your face and shake in your voice.

“I’m not feeling well today,” you lied. “Can you do me a huge favor? Take me off the schedule, cancel my appointments. I didn’t have many…”

Your co-worker said she would. She was a good friend, if you’d considered her as such before. She was always willing to check in on you, help you out when you needed it, but you knew she definitely wouldn’t be willing to sink with you on the whole killing your horrible, misogynistic, rapist of a boss situation, even if she hated him too.

“I wonder if this means our next paychecks will be late…” she sighed after agreeing to help you, wishing for you to feel better.

You both told each other to stay safe, keep in touch, and as soon as you hung up you let out a quivering exhale, a weight of getting through that conversation free of suspicion lifting from your shoulders momentarily.

You’d almost forgotten about Tomura until you exited the bathroom and saw him sitting on the edge of your bed, half dressed— aside from his shirt that you were wearing, of course— and beginning to lace up one of his beat up red converse.

“Hey…” You blinked at him as you stopped in the doorway of the tiny bathroom. “Feel like breakfast?”

***

“That’s why I was covered in blood last night…” You recounted drearily as you picked at a stack of pancakes, twirling your fork and watching the spongy food tear apart easily. Then one of your thoughts from the previous night returned to you.

Like a hot knife through butter.

You were losing your appetite.

“Well, sounds like the fucker deserved it,” Tomura commented with a lazy shrug, taking a bite of his own stack of pancakes, his loaded with blueberries and chocolate chips. For a guy who’d tried to kill himself so often, he sure seemed to enjoy the simple things in life.

You glared down at your plate, silverware clenched in your fists. “Yeah, well, it won’t matter what he deserved once the cops find out…”

“Hey…” Tomura’s hand cautiously found yours, fingertips barely brushing against you and causing your gaze to snap back to him. “They won’t find out.” But you assured him that they would, sooner or later, if you stayed here. “Then let’s leave. Run away from here.”

Let’s leave?

Run away?

As in together?

You didn’t think strangers who were this easily willing to skip town with someone they’d just met existed outside of fables and fairy tales. And you were still working on figuring out if last night was fact or fiction.

“I don’t know…” You sighed. “I just—” But as you looked back to the front windows of the diner, you caught a face you recognized slinking by, the tall, lanky, tattooed figure pulling the door open and entering the establishment.

Dabi stopped as he looked up and saw you and Tomura sitting in the furthest corner, huddled close together in the otherwise empty restaurant.

He pulled the hood of the sweatshirt he wore under his black denim jacket down to expose his spiky black hair. “No shit,” he scoffed, heading straight towards you then, sitting in one of the empty chairs and laying both elbows on the table comfortably like he’d been invited and was simply running late.

“What are you two doing here?” he questioned in a bored drone, then glanced at your torn up, soggy pancakes with that cerulean half-lidded stare and asked, “You gonna eat that?” You slid your plate towards him without a word and he began to dig in, ravenous, silverware trembling slightly in his hands.

Neither you nor Tomura really knew what to say. After everything that had happened last night between the three of you, what more was there to say?

“Why the fuck did you put so much syrup on this?” Dabi complained through his next bite, though he didn’t seem to mind too much with the rate he was shoveling the food into his mouth. His bright, azure gaze hopped back and forth between you and Tomura, waiting for one of you to answer his first question.

“What?” Dabi then snapped, a scowl forming on his brow.

“Nothing,” Tomura answered then, trying to act natural as he took another bite of his own breakfast.

“What are you doing here?” you inquired next, a bad mood beginning to creep over you.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi shook his head as he pointed his fork— your fork— towards you accusingly. “I asked you first. And what are you still doing with him?” He shot a quick glare at Tomura, seeming to harbor some ill will towards the man who’d thrown himself in front of a speeding car.

Or perhaps it was more the jealousy that the scrawny, silver-haired, scarlet-eyed stranger had gotten to go home with you and, even more, that he’d made a good enough impression to be invited out for breakfast the next morning.

“Well we were having breakfast before you showed up,” you replied with disdain, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Oh, were you now?” Dabi said with another sarcastic chuckle and a roll of his eyes. “Tell me, do you always prefer to dissect your food into a million pieces before you consume it, or is that just for special occasions?”

“What’s your problem, man?” Tomura then jumped in with a sneer, causing both you and Dabi to look at him with varying degrees of surprise. Dabi almost looked intrigued, like there was a challenge he knew he could win somewhere in Tomura’s question. And you, well…

You just weren’t used to people sticking up for you.

“Was I talking to you?” Dabi shot back through a low growl, his hand tightening into a white knuckled fist around the fork to try and hide his growing withdrawal symptoms, feeling his body temperature rise even higher, and not just from rage.

“Stop it!” you scolded, not wanting a scene to unfold. Now it was your turn to be on the receiving end of Dabi’s glare. “Just stop. What do you want anyway? If I’m remembering correctly, you told us to get out and then sped off. If you want money I’m not giving it to you.”

“Cute,” Dabi flashed his teeth at you in a mocking smile, shoving the plate, now nearly devoid of all its previous contents, into the center of the table. “But I don’t want your money.” He pushed his chair back and stood aggressively, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “But it’s your loss,” he baited with calculated indifference. “I was actually about to invite you both to make some with me.”

Dabi began to stalk off then, but just before he could exit the diner, he spotted some faces that he recognized through the building’s front windows.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit…” he swore under his breath, whipping back around and pulling his hood up, returning to his seat at your table hastily, back facing the window. You and Tomura both just continued to watch him with an uncomfortable perplexity. “Tell me when they’re gone,” Dabi ordered in a hushed voice, but neither you nor Tomura knew what he was talking about.

That was, until two cops entered the diner, eyes scanning the empty room, sticking on the trio of you three for a moment and causing a dagger of panic to spike in your chest, before they moved on to take a seat at the main counter, calling to the waitress who was just coming out from the back and ordering two coffees.

“Of fucking course…” Dabi sighed, raising his eyebrows in lazy defeat as if to say, “this might as well happen to me today.”

“What did you do now?” you accused with a scowl, eyes darting from the cops back to the tattooed stranger. Though, again, after last night, it was sort of odd to think of him in those terms.

“Shut up!” Dabi ordered with a hiss, lowering his head a little more and trying to angle his face away from the cops. “Just shut up.”

“Whatever,” you murmured with irritation, now taking your fork back up and going to pick at what little remained of Tomura’s pancakes, your annoyance making some of your appetite return to you.

But the cops didn’t stay long. Just ordered their coffees, drank them while talking about bullshit, paid, and left. You and Dabi both let out a breath of relief once you found yourself alone in the diner again. Tomura had just watched the whole thing unfold with wide eyes and wavering interest.

“What did you do?” you pressed harder once it was just the three of again.

“Look, I’m in some trouble with the cops and some of the local gangs, alright!” Dabi shot back with simmering fury, though still kept his voice hushed to a hissed whisper. “And I need money fast or else, the next time they see me, I’m dead!”

“The next time who sees you?” Tomura asked, not sounding the least bit worried as he sipped at the orange juice you’d ordered and barely touched.

“Either of ‘em, dumbass,” Dabi retorted with a roll of his eyes, causing you to kick him in the shin from under the table which earned you the most feral look he’d flashed either of you yet. His hand was curling into a fist again and, for a moment, you really thought he was going to swing at you, but he just heaved out another exasperated sigh and said, “Y’know what, forget it,” before standing from the table, the metal legs of the chair scraping harshly against the splotchy floors. He grumbled to himself as he shoved his hands back in his pockets and prepared to turn and leave, “Should’a never stopped for you anyway…”

“Why don’t you just sell that stupid car?” you called to him when he was halfway to the door. He stopped and glanced at you over his shoulder, staring at you as if he was giving you a chance to continue. “If you need money that bad,” you clarified, nervously taking Tomura’s hand under the table. “Just sell your car.”

Dabi marched right back up to you, perching himself to lean forward with both hands lying flat on the tabletop. “You think I haven’t thought of that already?”

“Well?” you raised, squeezing Tomura’s hand a little harder and making him give you a slightly anxious side glance. “Why don’t you then?”

You and Dabi just stared at each other, searching each other’s eyes with matching scowls as if hoping to fish out some kind of weakness, see who would break first.

Finally, Dabi slumped back down in his seat again and sighed, tapping his foot relentlessly on the floor. “Because…” he admitted, partially with defeat. “I stole it. And my normal guy skipped town so now I’m shit outta luck with finding someone I can sell it to without alerting the cops.”

You were just about to say something like, “Well that sounds like a you problem then,” when all of a sudden Tomura cut in with, “I know someone who will buy it.”

Both you and Dabi gave him incredulous looks.

“It’s kinda far away…” he elaborated, leaning in a little closer to the huddle, “But I’ve done deals with the guy before and…” his words drifted off as if he was forgetting his sentence at the same time he was speaking it.

“And?” Dabi snapped.

“And he’s good with that kind of stuff,” Tomura continued. “Like, buying and selling illegal shit.”

You blinked twice, your hand still clutched in Tomura’s, who was holding onto you now more than you were to him.

Just who was this guy?

“If you’re bullshitting me,” Dabi warned, pointing a long, bony finger at Tomura, who’s crimson gaze widened even more, “then you’re gonna be the one who’s dead at the end of all this? Got it?”

Dabi should’ve known better. Should’ve known that, at least before coming home with you last night, Tomura would’ve wanted nothing more than for the tattooed criminal to follow through with that threat.

But Tomura was telling the truth.

Sure, he’d never bought or sold a stolen car to his contact, but he had obtained all kinds of drugs in the past, experimenting with what would bring him the closest to death without actually killing him before he’d made his mind up about actually wanting to die.

So Dabi agreed, all three of you leaving the diner— without paying, mind you— and piling back into the white and silver Mercedes-Maybach S Class, Dabi speeding outside of town towards the direction Tomura pointed him in, windows rolled down and music blasting all the way on account of him not wanting to have to hear either of you talk.

***

“Over there,” Tomura pointed out once a graffitied billboard of a crying woman warning against the dangers of drug addiction came into view. “Turn left at the next intersection.”

Dabi grumbled something under his breath before veering left and causing both you and Tomura to lean in the same direction with the sudden force. He then drove down a long, abandoned stretch of empty road for what felt like a long time. His agitation was growing, fingers tapping relentlessly on the wheel until finally he demanded, “Where the hell is this place?”

“Right up ahead,” Tomura kept promising. Your hand had inched closer to his in the backseat every time Dabi voiced one of his annoyances, feeling safer than before when you’d been in the passenger seat beside Dabi but still nervous since you were never sure what was gonna set the guy off. Finally, your hand found Tomura’s, his fingers intertwining with yours as he came to seek safety in your touch just the same. You gave his hand a little squeeze, the gesture becoming your unspoken sign for rising anxiety. To try and ease the tension that was building in the car, as he lightly stroked his thumb over the top of your hand, Tomura added, “Next turn that comes up. You can’t miss it.”

The next turn wasn’t for twenty more minutes, so you rested your head against Tomura’s shoulder in the meantime, his rigidness melting away after a little while, even allowing himself to rest his head against yours, his fluffy silvery hair tickling your cheek.

But finally, once the turn came up, you were able to calm down a little bit. Mostly because Dabi started to calm down a little bit. Though, as he pulled up to the place, it looked more like an old gas station than a place where someone would trade a stolen car.

“This really the place?” Dabi asked, glancing at you nuzzling up to Tomura in the backseat with…

What?

Jealousy?

He forced himself to glare back out the windshield as his grip on the wheel tightened.

“Yeah, pull in here. There’s a warehouse in the back,” Tomura instructed, lifting his head from yours and becoming more alert. “I’ll go and see if he’s here.”

“Right… you’ll see if he’s here…” Dabi rolled his eyes, veering off to the side and putting the car in park. “For how far we just fuckin’ drove, he better be here.”

“I’m coming with you,” you announced as you exited the car after Tomura, not wanting to be left alone with Dabi any longer than you had to. Tomura tried to tell you that it would be better if he went alone, that his contact could be a little skittish when it came to meeting unfamiliar faces, but you promised you’d be good. That you’d stay quiet and close to his side. You took his hand in yours again and then he agreed, informing you that it would be best if you didn’t touch anything, no matter how tempting.

“I mean, what does this guy deal?” you asked with a playful raise of your eyebrows and lilt in your tone. “Like, rare gems or something?”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes widening a fraction as he stared down at you. Then he looked away, giving a lazy half shrug and lightly scratching at his neck as he replied, “Sometimes. Depends…”

Before you could even think of a response, you were being pulled along by Tomura, who stepped up to the entrance of the warehouse and knocked on the metal door. “Hey! It’s me!” he called, waiting a moment before going to knock again, shouting louder that time, “Spinner! It’s Tomura! Got somethin’ for ya! Open up!”

Seconds later, a shady looking man answered the door with a disgruntled, “Jesus, Shigaraki, keep it down! You’ll upset the new arrivals… Already bad enough that all the semi-trucks come down these roads all the time.” The man, who you assumed was Spinner, looked you up and down and then back to Tomura with a slightly skeptical, “Uh… This isn’t what you brought me… is it?”

Tomura pulled you closer to him protectively before replying, “The car,” pointing a thumb behind him at where Dabi still sat behind the wheel.

Spinner glanced at you— well, the two of you, really— a little surprised to see Tomura so protective over anything, let alone a person, and one that he was touching so easily at that. Then he stared out at the Mercedes and nodded once, saying, “Tell ‘im to drive it ‘round back. I’ll open the garage and he can park it there. In the meantime…” He hesitated, then sighed to himself, the faintest smile detectable as he told his old friend, “I guess you guys can come in.”

“Thanks…” Tomura nodded, guiding you further into the warehouse which was…

Well…

The place was like a rat maze, each turn beholding another narrow hallway with an exhibit of luxury furs or designer handbags or power tools, all kinds of multi-colored pills stored in old gumball machines or clear plastic storage containers. There was one wall covered in vintage gameboys, playstations, old arcade units, some electronics that you couldn’t even place. But the part of the warehouse that you found the most strange yet intriguing was the room that Spinner led you to.

It was lit mostly in red on account of the many heat lamps placed in each of the several glass tanks which contained different exotic reptiles— snakes and geckos, poisonous frogs and iguanas. You were even pretty sure one of the animals was a baby crocodile.

“Still selling exotic animals, huh?” Tomura teased with an odd kind of fondness as he scanned the room, noting to himself the newest additions to Spinner’s collection from the last time he’d paid him a visit. “What? Tigers and Lions take up too much space?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Spinner shot back, as if offended. “I wouldn’t trade these no matter what the price. They were all lab animals. Test subjects for this and that. But recently another friend of mine caught wind that they were gonna be confiscated by some kind of animal control, so I took ‘em instead.” Spinner reached in and grabbed up one of the lizards, which rested calmly along his wrist as he gently stroked the top of its head. “Poor little guys have been through a lot…”

“Right, so, the car?” Tomura redirected. “Will you buy it?”

The dealer’s affection for his reptiles faded back into an attitude of business as he placed his hand back into the tank, allowing the lizard to crawl down and scurry back into its little cave as he said, “Gotta check a few things and then I’ll let you know. Your friend should be around back by now. Guess I should go meet ‘im.”

“He’s not my friend,” Tomura finally admitted, pulling you a little closer to his side as you continued to gaze around the reptile room in awe.

“Who is ‘e then? Someone we can trust at least, right?”

Tomura bit his tongue to try and suppress a nervous smirk, one of his hands clenching into a fist as it threatened to dig into his skin as he lied, “Somethin’ like that…”

“It’s complicated,” you chimed in, both Tomura and Spinner’s gazes snapping towards you. Neither of them said anything so you went on a little more nervously with, “W-well… The three of us sort of just… ran into each other the other night and—”

“Ah, c’mon, Shigaraki…” Spinner sighed with irritation. “How many times have I told you to only bring people you know here. Need I remind you what happened that one time with that guy who ended up being an undercover cop?”

“Trust me, this guy’s definitely not a cop,” Tomura assured his friend, removing his touch from you and migrating closer to Spinner, pleading his case. “If anything, he’s a first rate asshole, but other than that…” Tomura shrugged. “Guy has his own reasons for needing the cash.”

“So you’re splitting it?” Spinner asked, seeming to warn Tomura with the raise of his eyebrows that that was a bad idea. Tomura gave a hand gesture that said something along the lines of sort of, not really, who knows and a wincing expression. “Does he know that?”

The two of them began to leave the room, and you were staring at Tomura as if he’d look back and tell you to sit tight until he returned, that everything was ok, but he just kept on walking, chatting away with his friend while you sought refuge on the tiny sofa in the center of the room and basked in the red glow and many slithering silhouettes of the snakes in the tanks.

It felt like a long time until you finally heard footsteps approaching down the way that Tomura and Spinner had gone off in. Though, instead of silvery tufts and crimson eyes rounding the corner, you were met with inky black and smoldering sapphire.

Dabi was smoking a cigarette. Must’ve just lit it with how he was fidgeting with the silver lighter, a soft metallic clang tapping out irregularly. “Well, it’s just one fuckin’ surprise after another in this place, ain’t it?” he remarked with a sarcastic scoff, plopping down on the couch next to you, stretching his arms out over the back and looking around at all the scaled creatures with carefully concealed awe. He blew out a cloud of thick smoke, the smell making your nose wrinkle as you scooted away a few inches. You wanted to tell him he probably shouldn’t smoke in here on account of all the animals but, who were you kidding, it’s not like he would’ve cared.

“Where’s Tomura?” you asked, a slight twinge of worry laced into your voice.

“Your Romeo’s out with that other guy inspecting the car,” he replied dismissively through a yawn. “They better hurry it up. I want my money…”

“I think you mean our money.” You’d meant it to come out sounding much stronger than it really had— more of a declaration than a timid reminder— and your confidence dwindled even more when Dabi shot you a narrowing glare.

“What are you talking about? I’m the one who stole it. Hell, I drove you two around in it all night. You guys owe me.” He scoffed to himself again, wearing a cold smirk and slightly adjusting his position on the couch. Under his breath he muttered, “Our money… Please.”

Perhaps it was the fact that you’d killed someone or just that you were getting really fed up with this guy, but something had suddenly possessed you to argue back, “Yeah, and without Tomura you never would’ve had somewhere to sell the car. Remember that?”

Dabi shifted his position to face you better now, rage lighting up being his eyes while his tone remained low and even, a volcano always on the verge of erupting. “And tell me, how do you come into all this? ‘Cause as far as I’m concerned, you’re just some bitch I found covered in blood wandering the streets in the middle of the night. What’d you do? Slash some guy who got a little too rough with you? Or, wait, maybe your story is that he tried to attack you first and somehow you got the upper hand.”

You felt an unpleasant burning in the back of your nose. The tightening of your throat. Tears prickling at the edges of your vision. But you weren’t about to cry because you were offended. You were about to cry because you were furious.

Because this guy didn’t know a goddamn thing.

And, even if he did— even if you told him the truth— he still wouldn’t care.

As long as he got his drugs at the end of all of this, why should he?

“You don’t know anything,” you growled, rage cutting through your trembling fear that yes, you were a indeed a murderer. And one soon to be at large once the cops did a little more investigating.

Dabi leaned in, pupils mere pinpricks as all that bright cerulean threatened to swallow you whole. “Then just fuckin’ tell me already.”

But you were leaning in too, you now realized, your shared trait of living hard, unfortunate lives pulling you together like two mistreated magnets, however resistant you tried to be.

And as Dabi stared you down that time, you realized that something had changed— or rather, was changing— behind that piercing cobalt stare of his. It made you reconsider that maybe, if you just filled in the gaps, he would understand. He would care.

Or maybe he’d just turn you over to the authorities for ransom and call it a day.

“My boss…” you swallowed, mouth coated in thick, sticky spit. “He tried to— He almost…” You let out a frustrated sigh, a shiver skittering through your bones as you replayed the events of less than twenty-four hours ago in your head. If you focused hard enough, you could still smell that pungent metallic tang of all the blood, feel his thick fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. “I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t kill him, he would’ve killed me, sooner or later.”

Dabi was slowly nodding his head. And, for a moment, you thought maybe he did understand. But when he opened his mouth and asked, “So, you are a whore or…?” you rolled your eyes and let out a frustrated groan.

“I’m a hairdresser!” You snapped, wiping more tears away as you sniffled, scowl deepening. “Or at least…” your gaze became far off, staring into the tank of a komodo dragon in a daze as you concluded, “I used to be.”

And then Dabi actually laughed.

He was trying to stifle a series of cruel, amused chuckles as you shot him a look of fiery resentment, about to say something horrible to him before he piped up with a teasing, “And to think, you had the worst crime out of all of us the entire time!”

“It’s not funny!” you scolded, both your raised voice and Dabi’s incessant cackling stirring the reptiles. “I was just defending myself! But now I’m probably going to jail! How do you think that feels, huh? How do you think it feels to not have anywhere to go or anyone to rely on right now?”

Dabi’s laughter suddenly ceased, as fast as a flame blown out by a quick, strong breath. His face became blanker than you’d ever seen it, completely serious as he replied, “Probably pretty fuckin’ shitty. But y’know what. That’s life, ain’t it? No one’s ever really there to save you.” He leaned in closer, looming over you, his shadow casting across your form and making you disappear into the darkness that filled the red room. “All you ever really have is yourself,” he went on, his simmering anger boiling hotter and hotter with each new sentence. “And that’s what happens to the weak ones. They can’t protect themselves when worse comes to worst. Because there’s never gonna be any grand hero to swoop in to your rescue. And the sooner we all realize that, the better. So quit your fuckin’ crying—” He was pointing a finger at you now, tears having started streaming down your face again without you even realizing it. “Grow the fuck up, and figure out what you’re gonna do about it. ‘Cause you’re all you got. Understand?”

Your entire body was shaking and, staring up at him in the eerie red light, a dangerous glint shining in his eyes, Dabi really looked like a monster. But you’d slayed one of those before. If you had a straight razor, you could do it again. Though, you didn’t really want to be a killer. Or rather, you didn’t want to get used to killing. Because you still believed that you were a good person, that you maybe even deserved good things.

You’d crossed a line, sure. One that, in the eyes of society, would spell irreversible damage.

But wasn’t that always the way these kinds of things played out? By showing you one atrocity only to prepare you for another, much more traumatizing one? Constantly reminding you, it could all be much worse?

“But don’t worry…” Dabi side eyed you as he said, “I won’t rat you out. People like you and me, we gotta do what we need to in order to survive.” He leaned forward to place his silver lighter on the coffee table, taking another long drag to calm his nerves.

“Thanks…” but there is no you and me, you wanted to say. Instead, you just scooted a few inches away from him, hoping Tomura would come back soon.

Until he and Spinner returned, however, you and Dabi opted for awkward silence. You were just trying not to think about the blood on your hands, even if the bastard had deserved it. Dabi though…

Dabi’s mind was in a much different place.

Because as he’d peered down at you in the redlight, the dim patch of fluorescent illumination directly above the couch that the room allowed shimmering in your big, terrified eyes…

He’d realized that what he’d felt spike in his chest when he’d glanced at you and Tomura cuddling in the backseat was indeed jealousy, the emotion slowly seething into his skin only to inevitably radiate from him if he didn’t find a way to cure it soon.

And the other night when he’d kicked you and Tomura out of the car and sped off. That had been a mistake, hadn’t it? What he should’ve done was dumped that silver-haired suicidal off on the curb and insisted on driving you home. Maybe then it could’ve been him sharing pancakes with you at the diner instead. Maybe then it would’ve just been the two of you splitting the money and not this useless third party who was going to spend it on who knows what useless shit.

Dabi clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from sneaking another glance at you but, just like when it came to his addiction, he didn’t have much self control.

Whatever, he tried to convince himself. Once this deal is done, we’ll all go our separate ways and never have to see each other again.

Only, what if that wasn’t true. What if that was only true for him, and you and Tomura went back to your apartment or some motel or, fuck it, you’d have money, you could get a room somewhere nice, and fucked again.

Just the thought of that grungy loser’s hands all over you was making Dabi start to lose his cool. And you’d let Tomura kiss you too? Let him run his tongue all over the inside of your mouth and down your neck and inside your tight little pussy? Disgusting.

Bet I could make you feel better than he did, Dabi thought to himself as his leg began to bounce anxiously. Bet I could fuck you so good you’d forget you’d ever met him.

But then, before Dabi could start to really spin out of control from the jealousy and withdrawal, Spinner and Tomura reenerted the reptile room, both you and Dabi looking over and awaiting that fateful number.

“So, I took a look and…” Spinner began, pretending to hold you and Dabi in suspense while the smirk on Tomura’s face said he already knew the price you’d be splitting three ways. “It’s in pretty good condition. Whoever you stole it from must’ve just bought it and, based on the paper plates, it had to have been within the last thirty days. I’ll give you twenty thousand. Three ways that’s—”

“Over six thousand each…” you breathed out in sheer disbelief. That was more cash than you’d ever had in your bank account, let alone all at once.

You couldn’t fathom it. The thought of what you could do with that much money. The thought of getting out of that shitty apartment and moving to a better part of the city, one where you could get hired at a salon that was much more high end than the back alley one you’d been previously employed at…

If you hadn’t killed someone, that is.

If you weren’t soon to be a wanted criminal.

“That’s right,” Spinner confirmed, taking out a thick envelope and handing it off to Tomura who looked pretty proud of himself.

Dabi, however, was not as pleased…

“Twenty thousand?” he asked, standing and tossing his half finished cigarette down onto the concrete floor of the warehouse, stomping it out with his first stride towards the dealer. “Nah. No way. Things worth at least one hundred thousand new. Maybe even more than that.”

“Sorry,” Spinner shrugged. “That’s as high as I can go.”

Dabi’s hands clenched into fists by his sides and you were sure he was finally going to throw that punch he’d been holding back all this time. So you intervened again, saying, “That’s more than enough to get your drugs.” Dabi looked over his shoulder lightning fast, that vengeful and violent shine back in his eyes and honed in right on you. Meanwhile, Tomura was ready to jump between you two if Dabi really did lose his temper.

“Cute,” Dabi spit, whirling back towards Tomura and his friend before eying the envelope containing the cash. He could just steal it. Yeah. Once the three of you were out of here, Dabi could take it and run. “And you,” he nodded aggressively at Tomura. “What the hell do you need it for, huh?”

Tomura’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw clenched as he gripped the envelope tighter, Dabi taking a step towards him. He then opened his mouth to throw a hostile reply right back, but no words came.

In truth, he didn’t know.

Before meeting you, Tomura probably would’ve blown it all on one hell of a self-destructive night before finally pulling the trigger and ending it all. But now…

Well, he’d have to figure that out once he discovered what you were planning to do.

“What?” Dabi smirked, cruelty seeping back into his voice. “You gonna pay someone off to perform a hit on you or somethin’?”

Tomura warned with a growl, “Don’t test me…” his eyes going wide, though this time in a much more feral, dangerous way than before. Then, ever so slowly, he placed the cash in his back pocket. He could take it and run too, if he wanted. He just had to get past Dabi to grab you first.

“Guys…?” you spoke, sensing the growing tension and hoping to calm things before they really spiraled out of control. “C’mon. We got the money. Now let’s just go…”

Dabi ignored you, clearly occupied on setting Tomura off before calling it quits with the little ragtag trio the team of you had formed. And part of him, whether he realized it or not, wanted you to see that, just because Tomura had remained relatively calm during all the recent chaos, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of flying off the hinges too.

Because what was that saying again?

Always watch out for the quiet ones?

“Y’know, I’m not really convinced that someone like you even deserves that kind of money,” Dabi went on. Spinner was getting fed up with this quarrel too, though his concern was more for the fact that all this bad energy swirling in the room was bound to upset his replies than if one of the boys left here with a black eye. “So why don’t you just do the right thing and give it to me and the girl so we can get on with our lives while you keep trying to end yours.”

“Just stop it!” you’d tried to shout out, but it was too late.

Tomura moved fast.

Too fast.

Just a blur of black and silver and crimson, a snarl echoing off the concrete and eyes flashing with ill intent as he lunged at Dabi, the force sending both of them falling to the ground.

It was clear to everyone in the room that Tomura had never been in a real fight before, the way he wildly and clumsily threw punches that Dabi blocked with mocking ease. It wasn’t long until Dabi gained the upper hand and flipped the scrawny, scraggly boy on his back, jumping on top of him and showing him what a real punch looked and felt like.

Spinner was shouting. You were crying, screaming at the two of them to “Please stop! Knock it off already!” and Tomura and Dabi were rolling and clawing and cursing at each other while fighting for possession of that damn envelope.

The three of you were once again plunged into connected chaos, though this time none of you seemed to know how to rescue each other.

Eventually, the envelope slid from both their gasps and landed right in front of you. In a moment of panic and impulse, you grabbed it up and then snatched the lighter Dabi had left on the coffee table, flicking it open and producing a flame, holding it dangerously close to the cash and bellowing out, “BOTH OF YOU STOP OR I— I’M BURNING IT!”

All of the oxygen in the room felt like it had been sucked out at once.

Even Spinner was holding his breath, as if he had something to lose.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” Dabi shouted, voice cracking with a shriek upturning at the end.

“Get off him or I swear I’ll do it!” And you weren’t bluffing, the flame kissing the edge of the envelope and beginning to toast the crinkled paper, causing Dabi to obey instantly, holding his hands up in surrender and stepping off Tomura, who was coughing from when Dabi had closed his hands around his throat.

And Dabi only hated Tomura more now.

He’d hated him from the very first moment his stolen car had nearly run the suicidal maniac over in the street. He’d hated him when he’d dropped you two off near your apartment and sped off with the music blaring, just knowing that the two of you were going to fuck. He’d hated him when he’d seen you sharing pancakes at the diner just earlier that morning. And he’d hated him when he’d seen him rest his head on top of yours in the rear view mirror like two lovesick puppies leeching warmth off each other.

He hated that you were willing to throw away life changing amounts of cash just to save Tomura from a black eye and some broken ribs. Hated that you cared more about the silver-haired freak than the bigger picture here— the picture that he was soon to be painted out of.

Because time after time, Dabi had lost in life. He’d lost, most times, because he fell in with bad company or couldn’t run fast enough when a job went south. He’d lost because he’d become a slave to his addiction and couldn’t give two shits about correcting it. And he’d had the perfect opportunity to be the one you’d invited back to your apartment, the one you’d shared shitty diner food with, and the one you’d curl up in the car with, but he’d blown it because he just couldn’t let himself have anything good without thinking there was going to be a catch.

“Just give me the lighter…” Dabi spoke softly to you now, as if talking you off a ledge, one hand extending for you to toss the zippo into, or, in another world, take hold of.

You hesitated, slowly but surely lowering the flame, dropping the lighter to the floor as you drew in frantic, uneven breaths. With one hand clutching his ribs, which were likely bruised after that altercation, Tomura pushed himself to his feet and came over to stand before you, saying something to you quiet enough that Dabi couldn’t hear. But you handed Tomura back the envelope and that’s all that really mattered in the end, right?

“Let’s just get out of here,” Tomura spoke louder now, turning to address Dabi as well. “It’s a long walk back into the city.”

And with that, the three of you left the odd maze of Spinner’s contraband castle and headed back down the long stretch of abandoned highway that you’d come, the sun already beginning to sink towards the horizon before you were halfway home.

***

All three of you were exhausted, mentally and physically, and exchanged minimal conversation throughout your trek back towards civilization before Dabi just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Does he know?” he asked, nodding his head from you to Tomura.

“Know what?” you asked, though you already had a pretty good idea about what he was alluding to.

“Oh, so he doesn’t know…”

“He does know,” you sighed, exasperated. Meanwhile, Tomura just made sure the envelope of cash was kept out of Dabi’s reach.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Dabi then asked Tomura directly, nudging him a little and causing him to flinch away.

“Cut it out, man,” Tomura rasped, a slight grimace flashing across his features before fatigue reclaimed them.

“Whatever…” Dabi rolled his eyes, a certain mischievous lilt to his tone, edging Tomura on and grasping at straws to find any reason to cause a rift between you two. “I just know that if I was gonna fuck some random girl, I’d wanna know whether I was stickin’ my dick in a murderer or n—”

Again, Tomura moved unexpectedly fast, a cloud of dust kicked up from under his beat up red converse as he whirled on Dabi, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, spit flecked through gritted teeth as he puffed out a vicious breath.

Dabi raised his hands as if surrendering, yet still had the gall to say, “Hey, I’m just lookin’ out for ya. Your funeral, buddy. Though, maybe you’d like that.”

“Tomura, he’s not worth it…” you nearly whispered, too tired to burst out in fury like you had before. You placed a hand on Tomura’s back and pulled him from his blinding rage, slowly retracting to melt back into your gentle, understanding touch. “Please… Let’s just go home.”

You and Tomura each had an arm wrapped around one other, walking with slightly staggering steps as you guided him away and further down the road.

“Yeah…” Dabi scoffed to himself, clenching his fists at the sight of you two huddled together again. “Let’s go home.”

***

It took another two hours until the skyline of the city that had damned all three of you came into sight, another sixty painful minutes ticking by before you actually set foot back in the territory. And you should’ve known by now, especially in Dabi’s company, that you were never really home free.

Because the moment you thought you could breathe easy and part ways, enjoy the remainder of the stroll back to your apartment with Tomura to count your cash and make a plan, Dabi ran into an old friend.

Or rather, an old friend ran into Dabi.

“Pretty fuckin’ brave of you to show your face around here again!” a rough voice called from behind, causing all three of you to turn in unison, six eyes gone wide and bearing different breeds of fear.

“Shit,” Dabi hissed under his breath, pushing you two along and tacking on an urgent, “We gotta go. Now.”

“Not so fast, hot shot,” another big, burly, tattoo-covered man chuckled as he stepped out of the nearest alley, blocking your path with a crowbar in hand. “It’s time to pay up, Dabi.”

You and Tomura braced yourselves, scanning the group of men that were circling around you for any gaps big enough to slip through and make an escape. But the pack only tightened, more and more criminals emerging from the shadows armed with flashes of sharp silver or rusted iron.

“Hey, boys…” Dabi replied, trying to hide the quiver in his tone with an uncharacteristically friendly lilt. “Been a while, huh?” He was backing up towards you and Tomura, possibly trying to make a run for it himself, but there was no escape now. Not for any of you. Especially not for you, what with the hungry way the pack of men stared you down, nearly salivating at all their own disgusting thoughts.

“I sure hope you have our money,” the one who was presumably the leader of the gang went on, a smug grin plastered across his scarred face, tapping the weight of the crowbar in his palm with a steady beat. “‘Cause if ya don’t…” He swung the crowbar forward, causing all three of you to jolt as it pointed directly at Dabi. “Well, then we’re gonna have a biiiiiig problem, ain’t we?”

And he knew that Dabi didn’t have the money.

Or, at least, he normally wouldn’t have, if not for the cash he’d collected from selling the stolen car.

But still, even that wasn’t enough to pay off the entire debt and Dabi was too hell bent on securing more of his drugs before he’d even consider handing this man a single dollar.

And you and Tomura, well…

You still needed your cut.

None of you were too keen on going down without some kind of fight.

Not when you’d come this far through hell to finally catch a glimpse of the twisted heaven on the horizon.

“Yeah, well, about that…” Dabi chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head and trying to stay calm. Meanwhile, you and Tomura noticed some of the rough and tumble facade melt away, leaving only a guy who had been way in over his head from the start.

And it happened so fast. The flash of metal. A silver streak appearing and disappearing before anyone could really see what it was. But left in its wake was a slash of red and a guttural howling, the scene growing smaller and smaller behind you until you realized that someone was dragging you along by your wrist, you nearly tripping over your own feet as you glanced over your shoulder with horror, blood turning to ice.

Maybe Dabi had shouted, “Run!”

Maybe he hadn’t.

But now all three of you were high tailing it down a series of narrow alleys, Tomura’s grip on you like a vice, desperate and unrelenting. At some point, you think you were telling him he was hurting you, trying to pull away when you felt the pressure growing over your bones, thorny pangs of pain peppered over your skin. But he didn’t hear you over the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. And even if he did, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not until you were somewhere safe and warm with him and no one else.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Dabi shouted when he rounded the next corner and halted, you and Tomura nearly barreling into him as you skid to a stop and were faced with a dead end. “Uh… New plan!” He backed up, peering down the remaining stretch of straight path and seeing the silhouettes of even more enemies pop up to cage you in, a big dumpster wedged in the middle of the narrow alley slowing them down, but not for long.

Panicked, he started back down the dead end, spotting a fire escape ladder just out of reach, rushing over to jump up to try and grab hold and pull it down, but every attempt was met with no more than his fingers barely brushing against the first bar.

“What are we doing, guys?!” you shouted, your panic catching up with you as you stared down the alley and watched as your pursuers became dangerously closer by the second. Your heart was pounding, pulse beating so fast and hard that it hurt. Though, meanwhile, unbeknownst to you amongst the dread, Tomura had gone over to assist, Dabi lifting him to pull down the ladder.

You froze. Paralyzed with terror as a group of silhouettes were mere yards away. So close you could see the whites of their eyes. You’d meant to yell, to scream, anything to inform the boys that they were coming. But then that rough, scarred hand grabbed yours again and pulled you towards the ladder, practically pushing you up it even as you scrambled as fast as you could to climb.

Dabi was already at the top, extending a hand to you to pull you up to the landing.

And the only reason Tomura dared let go of you was because he thought that Dabi would just pull you up and then keep running on his own. So when the inky haired bastard locked his fist around your wrist and took off with you. Well…

Tomura saw red.

“Wait! Ow— Stop!” You tried to protest, fighting harder against his grip than you had on Tomura’s, digging your heels into the ground only to be yanked forward to nearly stumble over the next flight of stairs. You looked behind you for Tomura, not even having time to make sure he’d made it up the ladder before you’d been taken hostage again. You called his name, hoping— praying— that he’d call back. Let you know he was ok. That he’d made it—

But there was only silence.

“STOP!” you shrieked, reaching forward with your free hand to dig your nails into Dabi’s arm, clawing viciously at his inked skin until he had no choice but to let go, a few thin rivulets of blood welling up from the pale surface.

“Jesus— What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He scolded, sapphire eyes smoldering with white hot fury beneath a deep scowl.

“Tomura—!”

“Who fucking cares?!” Dabi shouted over your cries, which were quickly turning to sobs— fat, glistening tears welling in your eyes and streaking shimmering lines down your cheeks in pairs. Your chest was heaving with shallow breaths, suffocating yourself every time you tried to draw in more air, feeling like you were going to throw up. Like you were going to pass out. Like you were going to die.

“But he—!”

“Better him than us!” Dabi cut in with a snarl, approaching you with fists clenched. You winced when he came close enough that his shadow cast over you, shielding your face with your arms as if you expected a strike. “Now, unless you want those guys to rip you apart, then I suggest you stop your fucking crying and fucking run.”

His voice was icy hot. Searing into your heart like millions of barbed fish hooks, each one connected to a line that pulled in a different direction, intending to unravel you. To massacre you.

You felt your world sway and caught yourself on the railing of the staircase, peering down over the edge at the vast drop below.

And the thought did cross your mind. To jump. To end it all. But then from the landing below came, “Keep going!”

Both you and Dabi looked at each other with varying degrees of relief and confusion before you turned to see Tomura sprinting up the staircase, out of breath but still refusing to slow down. Immediately all your dread was replaced with a vibrant joy, a beaming, yet crooked smile lighting up your face and contrasting eerily with the tears that still spilled from your eyes.

“Tomura! You—”

“The ladder!” He huffed, coming to a stop and nearly doubling over once he joined you and Dabi on the next landing. An awful wheezing sound rattled in his chest with every inhale he took, bracing his hands on his knees for a moment before finding the will to stand and finishing his sentence with, “Tried to pull it up but it got stuck halfway… They’re probably… On their way…”

“Like I said—!” Dabi snapped, getting ready to run again. “We gotta go. Now.”

So the three of you took off— together this time— the top of the building but a landing away now, though you could hear the frantic clattering of heavy footsteps not far below.

“What happens once we get to the roof?” You called to Dabi, who was already on the final ladder.

“Just trust me!” he shouted back, extending a hand once again to pull you up, though you were careful not to hold on too tightly after what had just happened moments ago.

As Tomura climbed the ladder, he muttered to himself, “I don’t like those odds…”

But once you were on the roof, Dabi seemed to know the terrain better than he did on the ground. Because, up here, you could see the entire city laid out before you. All the narrow, intertwining streets appeared like an elaborate maze with the heart of the district shimmering like a mirage in the summer heat far, far in the distance.

“We’ll head towards the shopping district and lose ‘em there,” Dabi explained as you and Tomura followed behind him in a line, treading much more carefully than your surefooted, tattooed friend so as to avoid a deadly fall. “My place isn’t far. We’ll hide out there for a while till we can make sure the streets are clear.”

“Won’t they know where to find you?” you asked, nearly rolling your eyes as such an obvious flaw in his plan. “I mean, you can’t be telling me that these guys don’t know where you live.”

Dabi smirked to himself, eyes trained on where his next step would land upon the roof to avoid any loose shingles as he replied with an overconfident, “Well, that’s just one of the perks of this lifestyle, sweetheart. Anywhere can be your home when you don’t really have one of your own.”

You scoffed at his arrogance, not exactly finding it very funny to be making jokes at a time like this, but ultimately you let it go. It was a bridge you’d cross when you came to it, so long as you could get to the other end of the slanted path you were currently on.

But Dabi wasn’t joking.

He had a place. Several, in fact. A hideout in every corner of the outskirts. And every time one of them was discovered or raided, he’d just count his losses, retrieve what little he could, and forge a new hole to call home until the process inevitably repeated.

It was how he’d survived this long. How he’d evaded his enemies just long enough to extend his deadline or wrack up an even bigger debt.

Lucky for you, though, he was taking you back to his favorite hideout. It could almost pass for an actual place someone might be able to call home. Almost.

“Hey, I think we lost ‘em…” Tomura eventually remarked as you’d changed to your third rooftop, standing still and staring over the scenery behind you. Lo and behold, your pursuers were nowhere to be seen.

Dabi stopped to listen in, the whistling from a strong gust of wind the only sound to be heard up here other than the muffled traffic drifting over from a few streets down. “Yeah…” Dabi muttered, then clearing his throat to speak loud enough for you both to hear, “Yeah, I think we lost ‘em. C’mon. Let’s go.”

A few more unstable rooftops and several flights of rusted fire escape staircases later and the three of you were back on solid ground. And it was sort of strange, unexpectedly, being back among the maze of buildings and alleys after experiencing the view of the city from so high up. You felt so much smaller than you had before, gazing up through the gaps in the architecture at the sliver of sky which had just expanded all around you, painting over the muted greys and browns of your world with a serene shade of blue.

“Hey, c’mon…” Tomura urged quietly, taking your hand in his once more, though much more gently this time, and guiding you to follow after him, careful not to press into the bruises that were already beginning to blossom on your wrist from the abuse between him and Dabi forcing you along. “We gotta go.”

But you just wanted to stay and stare up at the sky, unable to shake the feeling that perhaps that was the first time you’d ever truly seen it— a sprawling revelation expanding around you after you’d just been fearing for your life, the city never that quiet, never that still, the heat of summer not so stifling when there was so much fresh air swirling around you.

But your feet carried you after Tomura, drifting closer to where Dabi was checking to make sure the coast was clear from the opening in the alley that would merge back onto the main streets, waving you two forward in a wordless announcement that it was safe.

“Just a few more blocks,” Dabi sighed, careful cerulean gaze scanning the narrow horizon like prey expecting to find a predator lurking among the telephone poles and parked cars. But then he looked at you, noticed the tranquil daze that had overtaken your features, and asked with a skeptical squint, “You holdin’ up ok?”

It took a second for you to realize he was talking to you, snapping out of your daydream and becoming more alert as you looked up at him and replied with a shaky, “Y-yeah… I’m fine,” as you melted back into Tomura’s side.

And Dabi wished that Tomura wouldn’t have made it past the first ladder. That he’d been caught by those thugs and pulled down, beaten to death and left to suffer on the grimey concrete. Because then maybe he could be the one whose hand you were holding. Whose chest you were starting to lean against. He could take you the rest of the way to his little hole in the wall apartment and get you something to drink, sling an arm around you and pull you close until you stopped trembling and he’d convinced you that no one— not the cops or any backstreet criminals— was going to take you from him.

But the bastard who’d tried to kill himself by stepping in front of the car was the one who currently protected your heart, the one who was allowed to touch you and whisper how it isn’t much further, we’ll be there soon.

Dabi cursed himself for the man he’d been twenty-four hours ago. The man who was so hardened from this life that he’d fallen into that he was no longer able to recognize something that was good before he scorned it, scorched it, ruined it with harsh words and biting remarks.

Deep down, though…

Deep down he stoked the embers of hope in the hearth of his heart. Hope that maybe, if you could just get through this, he could convince you to be his.

“It’s right this way,” Dabi informed the two of you as you rounded the next corner, this street wider than most of the others you’d traveled down yet entirely abandoned. Only some littered newspaper scraps or empty cardboard boxes blown astray from overflowing dumpsters scuttling along the street when a breeze blew by.

“Where even are we?” you asked as you continued to survey the place, surprised not to find even a single parked car, taxi, moped, anything in sight.

“It’s better if you don’t know, actually,” Dabi mumbled, fishing a set of keys out of one of his pockets and flipping through them until he found the correct one.

It was only then, just as he swung open a heavy metal door and held it as if wanting you to enter first that it occurred to you. Such a chilling, stomach turning realization.

You stopped short halfway through your next step, giving Tomura’s hand a slight squeeze in warning like you had in the car on the way to Spinner’s.

What if this was a trap?

What if Dabi was planning on killing the two of you and claiming your shares of the cash for himself?

It wouldn’t be hard to do. Not once he shut that door behind you— one that might only open one way, for all you knew— and guided you further into an unfamiliar building. He’d been so quick with that switchblade before. Only, this time, instead of slashing an eye it would be you and Tomura’s throats.

“What’s the matter?” Tomura inquired with a concerned mutter, leaning down a little to keep the conversation private.

But then Dabi called over with an impatient, “Hurry it up! Can’t be out in the open for too long!”

You just shook your head, shuffling back a half step while your eyes remained stuck on Dabi holding open the door.

“C’mon, it’s ok. We’re fine now,” Tomura tried to urge you, gently tugging you along until you caved and your feet stumbled forward, heartbeat hammering as you squeezed Tomura’s hand even tighter. He could feel your entire body shaking, but he figured that was more from the trauma of the recent events than the possible fear of being murdered by the third member of your unlikely trio.

Once you were inside, the door shutting behind you with a high pitched creak whining from its rusted hinges, you were engulfed in complete darkness for longer than you were comfortable with, paranoia lacing through your veins with a jittery shiver until Dabi flicked on a light switch and the place was set ablaze with vivid blue— graffied flames painted along the floors and walls that glowed under the blacklight.

“It’s not much but…” Dabi shrugged. “They won’t find us here.”

And just like that, your mood flipped. You were in awe for the second time that day, unable to believe the sight before you was one that belonged to your usually bleak reality.

“Did you…” you breathed out with a sigh, a fresh wave of calm overtaking you as you and Tomura followed Dabi down the long hallway. “Did you do all this?”

Dabi hummed out a short chuckle. “Yeah, well, sometimes I find myself having to hide out for a little longer than usual, so…”

Beyond the tunnel of blue flames, behind the only door located in the expansive corridor, was a single floor, several makeshift walls and barriers constructed from cardboard boxes or mismatched, patchwork pieces of plastic creating little rooms among the warehouse-like expanse. The walls of this place were also decorated with the glowing blue flames, the inferno that ignited along the hall growing into a raging wildfire with some red accents for contrast.

Dabi flipped on the main lights and the art disappeared, plain concrete walls swallowing the fiery blaze and bathing the hideout in bright fluorescence, some of the lamps flickering every once in a while to remind you that this place was not a magical fantasyland, but a dilapidated, definitely not up to safety code concrete box that you could very well be calling home for the foreseeable future.

“You can take your shoes off,” Dabi began, already heading towards one of the little sectioned off rooms, “Or don’t. I don’t care. Sit wherever. Whatever.” Then, from the room that was most likely his makeshift kitchen, he called out, “Hey, either of you want a drink?!”

For a moment, you’d forgotten Tomura was even there, his hand locked with yours just feeling like second nature at this point. So when he called back, “Some water might be nice!” you nearly jolted at the sudden voice. He then guided you over to the tiny, scuffed up couch and sat beside you, searching your face— your eyes— for something.

“Hey…” he muttered, brushing some of your disheveled hair away from your sweat streaked face, eyes still a little puffy from crying on the fire escape. “You ok…?”

You started crying again, slowly at first, then sobbing uncontrollably as you buried your face into his shoulder, your wailing muffled by the flimsy fabric of his shirt. He pulled you in closer, protectively, as Dabi re-entered the main area carrying two bottles of water and one can of beer, stride only stuttering a fraction when he witnessed your current state, the way you were clinging to Tomura for dear life again, as if he was the only thing in this world holding you together.

His grip around the beer can tightened, pressing a few small dents into the aluminum.

“What’s wrong with ‘er now?” he asked, words coated in thick— yet forced— derision, rolling his eyes and tossing Tomura one of the water bottles before jumping over the back of the couch and landing on the thin cushions next to you, keeping a bit of a distance even if that wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to do right now.

Tomura unscrewed the cap of the water bottle, trying to coax you to catch your breath and take a sip as he rubbed a hand up and down your back. But you wouldn’t lift your head from his shoulder, only nuzzling into his body deeper.

Both Tomura and Dabi exchanged unsure glances, neither exactly sure what to do right now, that is, until they heard your sobs turn into laughter— a cold, cruel chuckle that hiccuped in your chest every time a lingering sob pried its way past your lungs.

When you finally pulled your face from its hiding place among Tomura’s person, your head flopped back and you slumped into the couch. You looked sort of terrifying— teeth bared in a too wide smile as your body shook from soundless amusement, tears continuing to stream down your face and collect under your chin before dripping down onto your shirt.

“Bitch is fuckin’ crazy…” Dabi mumbled under his breath as he raised the beer can to his lips, though he jumped when a particularly loud burst of laughter tore through your throat. Then he couldn’t take his eyes off you, usually half-lidded and unbothered stare going wide enough to rival Tomura’s as he sat there frozen and unblinking, beer can still lifted to his lips yet he didn’t dare take a single sip.

And Tomura, well…

Tomura knew the feeling.

“I just can’t believe…” you barely were able to get the words out, battling between the incessant urge to cry and laugh at the same time, chest beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen in your delirious and hysterical state. “I just can’t believe that we’re alive… We’re alive…”

Tomura swallowed hard, gulped down the past few hours and hoped the monster drowned in his stomach acid before it gained enough strength to crawl back up his throat. He uttered your name— a nervous, unsure set of syllables that felt wrong in his mouth, sounded wrong to your ears. But then Dabi started laughing, his sounding low and rough and downright sinful at the realization that, yes, you’d all made it back alive.

And there was still twenty thousand dollars to split between you. Six thousand each.

“Y’know what,” Dabi said, leaning forward and setting his beer down on the busted and scratched coffee table in front of the couch. “I think the three of us make a pretty alright team.” Both you and Tomura’s gazes snapped his way, your laughter slowly fading until even the smile was wiped from your face.

Finally, Tomura said, “We almost died back there.”

“Well then maybe you should be thanking me,” Dabi responded with a hint of cruelty mixed into his tone, still holding on tight to the grudge against the silver-haired boy for stepping in front of his stolen car. Though, at this point, it really wasn’t even about that anymore, was it?

“What do you mean team?” you then cut in, feeling the tension between the two of them growing and hoping to defuse the situation before it erupted again. Even so, some sarcasm couldn’t help but shine through your words, one of your eyebrows quirked up in some kind of dramatic confusion. “The way I remember it, you wanted to leave us for dead on more than one occasion.”

“Look, I’m not used to workin’ with other people, alright?” Dabi shot back, clearly feeling cornered now, both you and Tomura setting distrusting stares upon his inked skin and sapphire eyes. “So, sorry if things didn’t always go off without a hitch—” He leaned forward, tightening the huddle between you three. “But what I’m tryna say is…”

Dabi took a moment to search your eyes, studying them, memorizing their color and the way they looked in the light versus the dark. Then he shifted his gaze to Tomura, who’s bright scarlet was far less alluring. Dabi didn’t know what you saw in him— saw in his dry, cracked, scarred skin and all that shaggy silver hair that fell into his eyes. Because all Dabi saw was someone not worth the trouble. Someone who would bury him— bury the both of you— along with himself if he got the right chance.

Perhaps Tomura was a risk in all of this.

Perhaps Dabi would live to regret trusting him.

But Dabi knew that if he wanted you— and he most certainly did want you— then Tomura was going to have to be the stray that tagged along. At least, until he could think of a better way to get rid of him…

“What I’m tryna say is that I think the three of us could pull off some pretty decent jobs,” Dabi finally concluded.

You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking if you traced over the lines of his tattoos or dared to submerge yourself into the blue of his stare for long enough you’d figure out what angle he was working, what catch would be tacked on to the end of such an offer. Though, in your hesitation, Tomura seemed to have put some of the scattered pieces to this puzzle he could gather together in his own head. He held his stare with Dabi and asked, that raspy, dangerous darkness overtaking his tone as he lowered his voice and asked, “Like what?”

And that was it.

From that moment on, you were in, all three of you leaning in closer and closer to each other as Dabi detailed some robberies he’d been trying to plan— robberies that required more than one person who knew the streets like he did and would have each other’s backs if things took a turn— elaborating on the fact that they were mostly on his enemies, guys who’d either wronged him in the past or would in the very near future if someone didn’t remind them they weren’t untouchable.

“But that’s just the warm up,” Dabi smirked, wearing that arrogant grin as he gave a half shrug, rolling his eyes a bit as if to say, child’s play. “I say we test out just how well we work together on these guys, then move onto something a little less pedestrian and more, say… Corporate.”

You thought of your view standing upon those rooftops, the heart of the city that you’d been cast out of so long ago shimmering in the distant summer heat. Close enough to dream of but still too far away to touch.

Dabi chuckled to himself then, posing the question, “I mean, what do we really have to lose?”

You’d wondered that for a while now.

Maybe it was about time you found out.

For the remainder of the night, the three of you tunneled deeper and deeper into Dabi’s plans, exploring every nook and cranny of the scheme until you felt like enough of the holes had been filled and openings in the fences patched up. By the time the hands on the clock were beginning to run into the early hours of the next morning, your eyelids were growing too heavy for you to fight against anymore.

You were exhausted and both the boys saw it.

So Tomura took the envelope out of his pocket, counted out each of your shares, Dabi counting his twice just to make sure, and thus the alliance was set. After that, you guys called it quits for the day, got some rest and allowed yourselves to recharge before the first act of your ambitious new activities would commence. And as you fell asleep curled up close to Tomura on that narrow couch, half of your body draped over him and finding comfort in the slow rise and fall of his chest, Dabi’s words kept repeating in your head over and over, an endless, overlapping echo of, “What do we really have to lose?”

You found the answer just before slipping unconscious, you think, though by the time you’d wake up tomorrow you’d forget it.

What do we have to lose? Well, the only thing that’s really ever been ours to begin with.

Our lives.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Please do check out the MV this fic is based on if you get the chance, it’s one I’ve loved since it came out all the way back in 2017, though perhaps you ought to wait until the fic is finished since it’s likely you’ll be able to predict some spoilers haha.

Anyway, future chapters will feature more of the Dabi x Reader side of things so for those of you who prefer Dabi please be patient with me! There’s actually a scene that’s been in my head for a while that I’m really looking forward to writing when the time comes.

I originally planned to write this fic in three parts but given how much more involved it became the more I developed it, now it's likely going to end up being somewhere between five and ten depending. I'll probably end up breaking up the original "three parts" into slightly shorter (though still lengthy) chapters so I'm able to post updates more consistently throughout this year rather than only be able to put out one huge chapter every few years.

Anyway, I really appreciate everyone’s patience and hope that you look forward to the next chapter. With that being said, I’ll see you soon!

Byyyyye~)

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kaisfruit · 5 months

Note

Hello love! I love your posts so much and I was wondering if I could request a Cole smut one shot? I mean, I saw your head canons and you said you could go on for longer, girl please do!??

Starved | Cole x Fem!Reader

A/N; I DONT KNOW U TWO, BUT U TWO ANONS MWAH !!! I LOVE U GUYS! i wanted to go so in depth w cole cuz i am unbelievably attrracted to that man i aint afraid to admit it. also, neither of yall specified BUT! im going w fem!reader since u both came from the fem!reader hcs <3

warnings; nsfw under the cut <3, cunnilingus, size kink, pussy drunk cole, unprotected p in v (pls wrap it b4 u tap it yall), probably some typos/grammar mistakes cuz i am way too scared to ask anyone to read this beforehand, and uhh i think that's it!

word count; 4.4k (i may have gotten a bit carried away im sorry yall)

Dinner was a favorite time amongst the ninja. It was time to unwind, to have fun, and enjoy each other's company. You had been chatting idly to Lloyd, who sat to your right, for a majority of the time. He was a bit quieter compared to some of the others (full shade to Jay, Kai, Cole, and Nya) and it seemed as if the mundane practice of just a normal conversation was a great relaxer for the green ninja, so he was definitely one of your preferred dinner companions. That didn’t mean there wasn’t chaos going on around you guys. Jay, who was to your left, seemed to be in a full shouting argument with Kai who sat directly across from the blue ninja. The topic of their angry musings was unknown to you, but Lloyd kept making commentary on it every now and again which you would happily add onto.

Across from you sat Cole, then to his left was Nya, and the head of the table was occupied by Zane while opposite him on the other end sat Pixal. Zane seemed content to exist in the company of all of you, only chiming in when he felt like it was needed, but he and Nya were definitely whispering jokes to each other every now again between bites of their food. Pixal, you noticed, was actually jokingly joining in on Kai and Jay’s argument. She would add in one point that was completely absurd and it would cause the other two to blow up again. That robot could be devious when she really wanted to be.

Then there was Cole. You were surprised that he wasn’t also a part of the argument, but you suppose the topic of…maybe devil worship? You weren’t sure, but still, whatever it was didn’t seem to interest the earth ninja. To be fair, you knew the other was prone to getting entranced into whatever he was eating at the moment and Zane had done wonderfully with tonight’s dinner (as he always did) so it was understandable really.

“And, yeah, I don’t know. I just don’t really understand why I’ve always got to be doing something.” Lloyd finished his story up and you nodded along, having listened intently the entire time.

“I don’t know either man,” you shrugged as you took a sip of your water, “your shit is always getting rocked one way or another.” That caused a slight snort of amusement to exit the green ninja. “I mean, I would’ve already changed my government name and gone into hiding if I were in your shoes.”

Lloyd let out a sigh. “That’s the dream. I don’t know if I could do all of that. Couldn’t leave you guys behind at all. That’d suck big time. Ninjago should just get its shit together so we can have some slice of life anime lives.” You nodded enthusiastically at that idea.

“Ooo yeah. And then we could have like fun drama like…what outfit am I going to wear tomorrow or oh no my hair is so bad!”

“Yes! You’re getting it.” Lloyd grinned. “I think I should get a cat.” His mind wandered constantly, so you were only slightly jarred by the sudden conversation change. “I’ve heard that their purrs do some sort of healing and I could for sure use some of that.”

“I think we’d all like having a cat around.” You added on. “They’re sort of independent, so it would be a good pet for our lifestyle.”

Lloyd was about to respond to you, y’know how conversations work, when all of a sudden Jay slammed his palms onto the table as the “argument” had escalated. It caused the table to shake and before you could stop it your water glass had fallen down and drenched your shirt. You let out a loud gasp which quickly caught the attention of everyone.

“Oh my God, [name], I’m so sorry!” Jay began profusely apologizing, scrambling about the table to find some napkins. Kai was howling with laughter just happy to not be the one who fucked something up. Lloyd was a bit in shock, Zane and Nya had both gotten up to grab some towels from the kitchen with Pixal not far behind, and Cole seemed to be frozen. You were too caught up in the water seeping through your clothes to notice, but the ninja sat opposite you seemed to have his eyes locked onto you, his body tense.

“Jay, it’s fine.” You quickly reassured as you stood up, Cole’s eyes following the movement carefully, “I’ll just go get changed. It’s no big deal.” You tried giving the blue ninja a comforting smile, but you could tell the guilt was already eating him alive and it’d be hard to get him out of that state for a while. You’d try again later, you decided.

Letting those who had left to the kitchen know where you were going, you made your way to your room with your arms held awkwardly in the air so that the weird feeling of the wet fabric wouldn’t be sticking to your skin too bad. Before you could forget, you made a quick stop by the bathroom in order to grab a towel from the cabinet.

Finally having made it to your room, you were quick to tug your shirt off and throw it somewhere on the floor. A sigh of relief left your lips as you began to dry off your top half with the previously acquired towel. With a frown, you removed your bra as well since the water had made it to that garment too and once you were sure your skin felt dry you dropped the towel onto your bed and you made your way to your closet.

You were bent over getting into your dresser looking for a new bra when you heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” You called over your shoulder, still digging around in the dresser.

“Uhhh Cole! Is it okay if I come in?”

“I’m sort of changing right now!”

“I won’t look!”

You huffed out a laugh at that. It was sort of indecent to let him in when you were like that, but he did promise not to look. But what if he did? That thought caused your cheeks to heat up a bit. To be completely honest, you were almost entirely head over heels for the earth ninja. The only reason you didn’t choose to spend every dinner chatting to him is because you knew part of you would slip up and embarrass yourself in one way or another. Not to say he didn’t do his fair share of embarrassing himself, but you found that endearing. He’d probably think you were weird and off putting if you were to just slip up randomly.

“Fiiinneeee!” You agreed against your better judgment. “No peeking!”

You could hear a chuckle rumble from the man as the faint sound of the door clicking open hit your ears. Chancing a glance behind you, you smiled fondly at the sight of Cole with his hands over his eyes as he shut the door behind him. He stood completely still after that too scared to make his way to a place to sit with him completely blind like that.

“Soooo, what’s up?” You finally asked, trying to not get irritated at the fact that you couldn’t seem to find another bra in your dresser.

“I just wanted to check in on you.” Cole answered, his voice strained. “I’ll gladly beat Jay up for you. Swear.” That had you giggling.

“You’d beat Jay up over anything.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re just looking for an excuse to.”

“Nuh uh.”

“You can take a seat, y’know.” You changed the topic, about damn near close to giving up and just going braless (you wouldn’t actually. It sounded comfortable, but you didn’t want to expose yourself like that.)

Cole cleared his throat slightly. “No way! I’d totally bump into like a shelf or something!! All of your shit would be broken and then I’d have to beat myself up after beating up Jay!”

Another laugh escaped you at that. Was all of it made funnier by the fact that it was Cole? Maybe. Afterwards, you went silent as your mind began racing. This could be your chance? Would he think it’s weird?

“Hey, I,” you bit your lip in a pause, “I don’t mind if you open your eyes…” You finally spoke, getting ready to just laugh it off like it was just a joke. What a prankster you are!

Cole seemed to go oddly silent after you said that and you were sweating bullets. The tension that filled the room was suffocating. Quickly, you snapped up with your back still to Cole. That action was followed by the sound of footsteps almost as if the other ninja had begun walking closer.

You were about ready to apologize profusely when Cole’s low voice broke the silence, “can I ask you something, [name]?”

“Anything…” You murmured, still facing the other way.

“Can I…” There was a pause, an eerily similar pause to the one you had earlier. He was hesitant as he seemed to be fighting some inner battle.

Without thinking, you quickly turned around not caring about your current topless situation and you pulled Cole down in order to plant a fierce kiss to his lips. You were about to apologize for your impulsivity and how you should’ve asked first and not assumed, but Cole’s hands came to rest on your waist and he let out a low groan as he melted into the kiss.

You weren’t small by any means, but it was making your knees weak at the feeling of his hands just absolutely dwarfing your waist. Those hands pulled you closer to where your chest was pressed against him and the feeling of the bulge in his pants against your hips caused you to gasp which he took advantage of and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You let out a small whine at the action, but quickly reciprocated even if you let him have control of the kiss.

Eventually, the need for air arose and you reluctantly parted with him, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. His eyes searched yours, as if something in your gaze held the answer to every question he had ever asked, as his hands slowly wandered to the area beneath your ass. After a bit of panting between the two of you, the kiss quickly resumed and he lifted you up easily causing your stomach to do flips. You wrapped both of your legs around his back and took appreciation in the new angle as it was much easier than having him lean down as much as he was.

The kiss broke as his lips began trailing downward. A shiver ran down your spine at the sensation of his lips on your neck and your breath hitched as he lightly nipped and sucked at the skin there.

“You’re gorgeous…” He breathed against your neck.

Between your harsh intakes of breath, you eventually got out, “Cole, I need you.” Which caused another low groan to escape him.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about hearing that come from your lips.” Cole had begun walking over to your bed and gently sat you down atop it as he crawled on top of you. He had barely even done anything, but you already felt like your brain was turning into mush. The sight of his body hovering over yours is something you’ve only ever dreamed about and you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together. That movement caught his attention, but he had to pace himself. Make sure everything was alright with you. You were operating at hyperspeed, however, and began reaching to the hem of his shirt. That didn’t go unnoticed by him either and he was quick to yank the material up and over his head. He flung the shirt onto the floor of your room as you laid there, stunned, at the sight of his body.

Cole was, well you knew he was big, but he was beefy. Clearly, he was muscular, but he had some chubbiness going for him as well and, God, you don’t know if you’ve ever needed anyone more. He was perfect. You started to sit up so that you could absolutely just feel him up, but he didn’t let you get up. Instead, he ran his hands down your stomach towards your shorts. You looked at him confused and he just leaned in close, his breath fanning across your ear.

“I want to make this about you.” His hands had successfully unbuttoned and zipped down your shorts. “Call me selfish, but I need to make you feel good. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t treat you like the finest piece of cake in the damn bakery?” To many, that’d be a cause for laughter, but knowing Cole, that meant everything. He slowly pulled away from your ear and you couldn’t help but look at him with the purest look of adoration after that. Even in a situation as intimate as this, he still managed to get the butterflies in your stomach to go haywire.

Cole slowly slid your shorts down your legs and off of your body. They probably ended up somewhere near where his shirt did. His eyes were transfixed at the wet spot that had formed on your underwear and he found himself subconsciously licking his lips. You, on the other hand, were staring at him with anticipation wondering what his next move would be. Gingerly, his hands came to rest on your waist and you shivered. His thumbs hooked into the last garment you had on, but he paused to look up at you. His eyes were searching yours once more.

“Is this okay?” He finally asked, his voice soft. Your enthusiastic nod put him into action and he quickly slid your panties off of your legs.

Cole could’ve sworn he was fucking salivating at the sight of your core fully exposed to him. He placed his hands underneath your knees and used that position to spread your legs open for ease of access. Knowing he still had his pants on, you were curious to what his current plan was until your eyes widened as you watched his head lower to rest between your thighs. Your face was flushed red and you could feel yourself trembling slightly. What he was about to do was just so…intimate? It felt more like a once the relationship has officially started activity, but it seems he wasn’t even kidding when he said he’d treat you like cake. Was he trying to ruin you for anyone else? (As if you’d want anyone else.)

The breath was knocked out of you as he took one small lick of you. You could’ve sworn you heard a noise escape him as well, but you weren’t given time to even think as he instantly dove back in. He had started eating you out like a man starved. His tongue moved along your pussy masterfully, making careful movements along your clit which caused punctuated whines to escape your mouth. You couldn’t help but reach a hand down to rest on the back of his head which he seemed to enjoy. Cole then made his tongue flatten out in order to lap up as much of your juices as possible. As if this wasn’t enough to get his fill, his tongue finally plunged into your hole and a gasp left your lips that slowly morphed into a low moan. This man was eating you up and you’re pretty sure your mind was completely gone by this point. What was your name? Who cares? Cole was giving you pleasure you had never experienced before and that’s literally all that mattered at this point. If your head wasn’t so far up in the clouds, you probably would’ve noticed that Cole was grinding up against the bed as he ate you out.

Your grip tightened in Cole’s hair and a moan left his lips which seemed to vibrate along your cunt.

“C-Cole–” His name was but a mere whimper along your lips and it only encouraged him to move his mouth against you faster. You felt the knot in your stomach twist up as your peak approached. You were practically grinding up against his tongue which Cole enjoyed immensely. He could not get enough and it rewarded him as you practically exploded all over his tongue. He was licking up as much of your climax as he could as you were still shaking in post-orgasmic bliss. Your vision felt blurry at the continued stimulation that carried you down from your high and you were faintly aware of the moans and whimpers making their way out of your throat.

Honestly, you had expected him to stop, but even one orgasm wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Cole was still lost in the taste of your pussy. You felt a bit of pain flare up at the overstimulation and you were trying to gently pull at his hair.

“Cole,” you whimpered, “h…hurts.” That fell on deaf ears as he just continued on. You thought he hadn’t heard you, but a shit eating look was sent your way and you knew he was trying to work you up.

“Just one more.” He growled along your folds as he moved up to suck on your clit which caused a jolt to travel through your body. It seems as if he had enough of your trembles as his arms came up to rest on your thighs. The position still keeping your legs spread, but his strength kept your lower half still as he continued his ‘feast’. Your moans and whines had definitely picked up in pace at this moment as the pain began to border on pleasure.

Your second orgasm came much faster.

He licked it up just as enthusiastically as he did the first time. You think he probably would’ve tried to keep going for a third time if you didn’t forcefully pull him up this time. There was a sheen of your slick that shined around Cole’s mouth and you looked away slightly in embarrassment. Cole, meanwhile, was licking around his mouth trying to get whatever he had missed.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you attempted to catch your breath after all of that. The shifting of Cole’s body was what finally caught your attention. The ninja was moving himself from above your body to your side and it looked as if he was moving to lay down next to you. All signs of lethargy left your body as you quickly sat up and rested a hand on his chest. Cole stared at you with a tilt of his head, the confusion bubbling within him evident.

“What about you?” You asked, still breathing a bit heavy.

“What about me?” Cole replied a bit dumbly.

“You know…” You muttered, a tad bit embarrassed, but you rested a hand over his painfully hard bulge in his pants. The feeling caused him to shiver and he looked down, realization dawning on him.

“Oh, it’s okay.” He said, picking your hand up and removing it from his crotch. “I said I just wanted to take care of you, right?”

“Yeah you did,” you started, “but I said I need you, didn’t I?” Cole nodded slowly, but a small frown was still on his face.

“Aren’t you tired?”

A sigh left your mouth. “A little, BUT.” You emphasized, noticing how he had opened his mouth to speak after you said that. “God damnit Cole. No way am I going to finally get you into my bed just to have you not dick me down. I don’t care how sensitive I am, I need you to fuck me.” You could barely believe what you had just said, but it got the job done. Albeit a bit slowly.

“...Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you…”

“I have never been more fucking sure in my life.”

Seeing as he wasn’t moving, you lunged over to him to begin slipping his basketball shorts down. Noticing your haste, Cole finally started taking initiative. If it’s what you wanted then he just had to give it. With a better method, Cole slipped off his shorts and boxers off together in one swift motion. And, boy, did he not disappoint. EVERY part of him was big, you had just found out. Saliva pooled up in your mouth at the sight of his cock as you couldn’t take your size off of it. If you weren’t so needy, you probably would’ve taken him into your mouth right then and there, but Cole already had a hand on your shoulder forcing you to lay back down as he positioned himself right above you again.

Your pussy was definitely still slick from the mix of your own arousal and Cole’s saliva and he ran a finger between your folds before shoving it into you. His tongue hadn’t been as thick as his finger, but it still wasn’t much to adjust to. The second finger proved to be more filling and your breath was once again escaping in huffs.

It took a bit until Cole had either thought you ready or just gotten impatient, but he pulled his fingers out of you and lined his dick up with your entrance. A pause. You were about ready to complain until the breath was taken swiftly from your lungs as he slowly pushed in. As he slid in further and further, the more your breaths turned into short moans. It felt as if he filled absolutely every part of you and it was addicting. The stretch hurt, but it was so deliciously overpowered by the pleasure of him finally being inside you. Though, Cole still didn’t even attempt to move until you gave him the go ahead.

From there, he started at a slow but deep pace. It was a sensual experience. Above you, Cole was letting out little huffs and groans at the feeling of your walls around his member. He could explode right then and there if he wanted to. But, he continued at this pace of almost completely removing himself from your hole before pushing balls deep back in. It was excruciating.

“F..fa…faster.” You panted at him. And who would he be if he denied you this request?

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed around the room as Cole slowly began picking up the pace. His hips were pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace, and you think you finally understood the phrasing of “being fucked stupid.”

Every push in had you moaning loudly. It was either moans or a broken moan of Cole’s name which made him go in a bit harder every time you did that. His head hung low until it was resting in the crook of your neck. The groans and low moans that were leaving the man only turned you on more and you about screamed his name when he bit into your neck. There were no thoughts of anyone here at the monastery hearing you two, as far as you cared, you and Cole were the only people in Ninjago at this point. All of your senses seemed to be completely filled by the man anyways.

The feeling of his licking, sucking, and biting along your neck combined with his rough abuse of your pussy brought you close to your third climax of the night which might be a record for you.

“C-Cole, I’m-I’m close.” You whined, your voice barely audible over the sound of him fucking you.

“God, me too.” He moaned against your neck. Cole was determined to not let go until you had, so he reached a hand down to start playing with your clit as he continued fucking into you. That absolutely sent you over the edge and you screamed as you came all over Cole’s cock. He continued thrusting into you throughout your orgasm which only made it feel that much better. His hips began stuttering in their movements and he was quick to pull himself out of the vice grip your pussy had on him. Cole wrapped a hand around his cock and jerked himself off the rest of the way until his cum started landing on your stomach. He let out tiny grunts as he fucked into his hand a bit before letting go.

You made sure he was looking at you when you scooped up some of his release and licked it off your fingers. He really had to save that image for the next time he masterbated.

Before he even allowed himself to lay down next to you, Cole carefully got up and reached for the towel you had used earlier to dry yourself off and used it to wipe his release off of your stomach, a small ‘sorry’ leaving his mouth as he did so. He was cute.

Finally, his body dropped harshly at your side and you giggled tiredly at him. Cole rolled over to look at you and you held your arms open, a silent question for him to come cuddle you.

His strong arms wrapped around your body and you rested your head on his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat. Cole found where your covers started and threw them over the both of you which only made you snuggle in even closer to him.

You two sat there in silence for so long, just catching your breaths, that you nearly fell asleep.

“Hey, [name].” You startled at the sound of his voice. A non-committal ‘hm?’ is what you hummed in response and he just rested his nose on the top of your head in your hair. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

A content sigh left your lips and you sleepily looked up, causing him to remove his head from its place. “Of course, Cole.” One of your hands slipped out from under the covers and cradled one of his cheeks. You leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on the other cheek.

“Now, let’s get some sleep. We can talk about the details later.” You said through a yawn and he just smiled at you fondly. You both returned to your previous positions and slowly drifted off, and for once, neither of you felt fear or dread for what was to come in the future.

#ninjago #ninjago x reader #ninjago fanfiction #cole x reader #cole brookstone #cole brookstone x reader

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narryffdreaming · 7 days

Text

A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — TWO

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART TWO: 14,9k words Please read: Part two explores a lot of Aurora's irrational thoughts and it shows how much she struggles to be herself after being married to someone who was emotionally abusive to her. From my perspective, it's a really important chapter to develop the relationship between Aurora and Harry, but I want people to be mindful of its content in case they don't feel comfortable reading about this, or in case it hits too close to them. Feel free to reach out if you want to skip something and you'd like me to fill you in. <3

PART ONE

Despite the line, getting through security would've taken Aurora hardly three minutes. That is, of course, if she hadn't had to wait for Harry for another ten.

He doesn't look the least apologetic for the held back, though. Nor bothered in the slightest by the extra time he seemingly needed. Smiling at her and holding their shared tray as he tilts his chin to an empty table and leads the way towards it.

Aurora follows him quietly, checking her watch just to make sure they won't run out of time. And she does it unconsciously, regretting every time she catches herself looking at her wrist. Because she knows they're early. She swears she knows. And she wishes she could relax and just enjoy things without that awful feeling rushing through her body. That feeling that turns into a voice and yells at her that she's constantly behind.

Behind what, one could ask, and Aurora wouldn't be able to answer.

She's just… Behind.

Behind, and watching her life go by.

All the damn time.

Harry stops by the table, and Aurora mimics him. She drops her bag and falls on one knee, pulling up the hem of her dress and uncovering her foot. The Nike sneakers she's wearing used to be white once, but now they are just old and dirty, and she loves them even more like this. She nibbles the flesh inside of her bottom lip while tying the shoelaces up, then changes to her other knee, and repeats the process.

Once she's done, she stands up and pats her legs, getting rid of any airport floor dirt from her clothes.

"You're fast," Harry says, putting his foot down from the edge of the table.

Aurora pulls the fabric of her dress up her chest and furrows her brows. "I am?"

"Hm, yeah." He frowns with amusement and chuckles. "You sure are."

"Huh." She wiggles her eyebrows up and down, then quirks the corner of her mouth up.

Maybe, she should point out that perhaps she isn't fast, but he is too slow. Or that, unlike him, she'd organized everything beforehand so she wouldn't waste any second longer than she absolutely needed to. But what good would that do? Besides, those thoughts don't even feel like hers. They don't sound like hers.

So she says nothing, instead, and steps closer to where he stands.

Harry gives the tray they're sharing a gentle push to her side, and puts his other foot up.

Aurora promptly slides the tray closer to her and places it in front of her belly, next to her bag.

Great.

Saying nothing was a bad idea, because silence is awkward now.

She licks her lips and keeps her attention on their belongings, not knowing exactly what to say.

Time goes by, though, and the longer she waits, the more awkward it gets.

So she decides to just say whatever, just to get them talking again.

"Perks of being a mom, I guess." She blurts out, then grabs their passports and shrugs. "Being fast, I mean."

Harry leans on his bent knee and looks at her over his shoulder, blindly tying up his own shoes.

"Yeah? Why's that? You get any super speed powers when you're pregnant or something?"

Aurora freezes for a second, passports still in hand. She turns her head to the side, and narrows her eyes at him.

Harry's soft lips are pursed, his green eyes are twinkling with playfulness, and his cheeks are tinted with a boyish flush under his facial hair. He's clearly having fun with his own silly comment, and it causes Aurora to break into a short laugh — not because it's funny, but because she simply can't help it.

She shakes her head, and looks back at the tray.

"I rush to get ready so I can pay attention to Noah, okay?" she explains, grabbing the boarding passes and checking the names on them. She puts hers inside of her passport, and the other inside of Harry's. "It's not a big deal."

She'd never thought about it, but it's the truth — she is usually busy keeping an eye on Noah, even from a distance. The little monster can't stay still for too long, and no matter how much she adores how energetic he is or that she tries her best to let him explore things by himself, the truth is that he's still only four, and she can't leave him wandering around unattended.

Which is why she fought so hard to sign him up for preschool — it gave her time to slow down and do other things, too.

Okay. See? That — that right there — is Aurora's truth. That's a thought that feels and sounds like hers. A thought that she came up with on her own, based on her own experiences and her own mistakes. A thought that reveals how she's learned that taking care of Noah is her responsibility, and that if she doesn't pay attention to her son, nobody does.

No matter how much she dreamed it would be different.

No matter how much she believed it should be different.

"Ohhh," Harry says. "Ok, then."

She sticks her passport and boarding pass into the front pocket of her bag, maybe a little bit more forcefully than she needs to.

"Exactly. So don't judge me."

"What?!" Harry laughs, putting his foot down from the table. "I wasn't—"

"I can't leave my son unattended, can I?"

"I—I know, yeah." His face falls, and he nods. "I get it. That's… It makes sense. Yes."

"Right. Great."

A second goes by, and then another one, and another one.

Silence settles again, but this time Aurora isn't worried about it being awkward or not.

There's just… So much going on.

Her heart is thumping loudly inside her chest, and her ears are buzzing.

She shouldn't have snapped at him.

It wasn't about him.

It wasn't his fault.

She pinches the tip of her nose and breathes in. Slowly, and steadily.

One more time.

Slowly.

And steadily.

And then, she moves again.

She holds Harry's things in her hand and leans on the table, reaching for his bag. Before she touches it, she looks at him over her shoulder and asks, "Do you mind if I open your bag?"

Harry doesn't answer, though. He's tilting his chin down and shaking his leg, making sure his pants are properly covering his ankles.

Aurora purses her lips and straightens her back, then slides his bag across the table and pulls it closer to her body.

Now everything's in front of her, the tray caged in between both duffel bags.

She bites her bottom lip, but it's hard to stop her mouth from turning into a smile.

Maybe the speed in which she moves isn't an inconvenience, after all. In fact, maybe it even comes in handy, because apparently if she doesn't move for both of them, someone will sooner or later shove them away.

"Harry," she insists.

"Hm?" He looks up. A frown crinkles his face — his eyebrows are pulled together, his forehead is puckered, and his lips are curled downwards. As soon as he meets her eyes, though, his shoulders drop, and he shakes his head. "Sorry."

He scratches his jaw, dragging his nails over his stubble.

Aurora stretches her arm, and pats her hand on the edge of the table, where his feet were a minute ago. "It's fine. I was just asking if it's okay to put your passport inside your bag."

"Oh! Yeah yeah, sure. Go ahead. Thanks."

"'Kay," she says, already unzipping the front pocket and putting things away.

Aurora rolls her shoulders at the same time Harry moves closer, and she unthinkingly snatches his belt from the tray and hands it to him.

"Here."

"Oh," he murmurs, grabbing it from her fingers. "Thanks."

He steps away, but there's something in his voice that somehow catches her attention, and Aurora turns her head.

She glances over her shoulder, and peeks at his face.

Harry is looking down again, chin pressed against his chest while he takes the end of his belt and puts it into the first front loop of his beige pants. His movements are casual, but he's holding back a smile, and Aurora can tell his mind is working on something.

Something silly, to be more specific.

She curls her mouth up, then raises her left eyebrow. "What?"

Harry tugs his belt, threading it through the second loop.

"What?" he repeats, and his mouth finally turns into a grin.

She turns her body towards him, then places one hand on her waist and the other spread open on the table, holding up her weight. "C'mon, out with it."

Harry laughs, slightly bending his knees and throwing his head back. "I didn't even say a word!"

"Well, you didn't have to!" She rolls her eyes and chuckles, backing away from the table to put both hands on her hips. "I can see you're thinking something."

He shakes his head, looking down and threading his belt through the next loop.

"Harry…"

He peeks at her through the corner of his eyes, then focuses back on his belt.

"You're aware you can leave me unattended, right?" he asks, keeping a bright smile on his face and the light tone on his voice.

"What?"

"I mean I don't mind." He shrugs, eyes still on his current task. "Gotta admit it's kinda cute to see you like this."

"I don't—"

"My favorite part was probably when you cleaned up the table."

"I—" Aurora closes her mouth, and exhales through her nose. "You put your feet there, Harry."

"I did, yeah. And you cleaned it up."

"Well, someone has to clean up your mess, don't you think?"

Harry glances at her, and smirks as mischievous and suggestive as he can be. "Oh, I always clean up my mess, love, don't worry about it."

He winks, and Aurora gasps.

"Oh my God!"

She turns to face the table, feelings her cheeks getting warm.

Harry laughs, though, so she steps closer to his side and nudges him with her elbow.

"Shut up."

"'Kay mum."

"Ughhh." She rolls her eyes, then shuts them tightly and takes a deep breath in. "You're so annoying."

Harry's laughter only grows louder, and Aurora shakes her head, blinking her eyes open again.

It only takes him a moment to calm down, but the smile is still obvious in his voice when he speaks again.

"I know. I'm just teasing you, tho. I'll stop now. I promise."

Aurora snorts. "Yeah, right."

She believes his words as much as she believes Noah when he promises he will eat his entire dinner if he gets to eat dessert first.

The thought brings a smile to her face, and she bites her lip to hold it back.

Peeking inside the tray one more time, she finds several rings, a bracelet, a watch, and three necklaces. Her mouth twitches, and her chest trembles with amusement — no wonder why Harry took so much longer than her to get through security.

She pulls the string of her necklace from the tray, takes each side to the back of her neck and quickly clasps it back to its everyday place. Next, she grabs her watch, and puts it on just as fast around her wrist.

"Well," she starts, then looks at him.

Harry is, once again, deeply focused on his task — his chin touches his chest, his eyebrows are pulled together, and he's biting his bottom lip.

"All yours now," she adds.

Harry peeps at her through the corner of his eyes, his hands still attached to his belt as he finally reaches the last loop. He darts his vision to the tray, then back at her, scanning her chest, her wrist, and her hands. "You sure? All of it?"

"Mhmm."

A group of people walks to their table, and Aurora takes a step aside to give them more room.

"Ok." He buckles his belt, then fixes his shirt. "We can go, then."

"Oh. I didn't mean to rush you."

He smiles, putting one hand inside the tray and carelessly collecting everything that's left inside.

"You didn't." He closes his hand into a fist, then shoves everything inside of his pocket. "It's just getting crowded here. C'mon."

"Hey, was my joke inappropriate?"

Past security and turning right, the hallway is significantly less hectic than any other area Aurora has walked through in the last hour or so.

It is probably one of the brightest, too.

"Hm?" she asks, tilting her head to give Harry her full attention. "Sorry, what joke?"

"About… Y'know, cleaning up my mess."

"Ohhh." Aurora laughs, then waves him off. "Please, it's nothing any of you guys haven't joked about before."

"I know, but… Things are different now, aren't they? Don't want to make you uncomfortable, or, well, don't want to be disrespectful to your hus—"

"You're fine," she says, cutting him off before she'll be forced to either correct him or say nothing, implicitly letting him believe there's still a husband in her life. "Don't worry about it. Let's stop here so you can put your rings back on, yeah?"

She points to one side of the hallway, and walks in front of him to guide the way. It only takes her a few steps, then she places her bag by her feet and turns around.

When she looks at him, she finds him frowning.

Frowning and frozen on the spot.

"Harry, hey!" She raises one hand and wiggles her fingers. "C'mon. I'll help you."

Harry's face softens. He shakes his head, then walks towards her while putting his hand inside of his pocket.

Leaning against the white wall, Aurora watches him come to a stop right in front of her, then drop all of his jewelry on top of her spread open palm.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

She finds his sight again, and a smile blooms across her face. "Sure, no problem."

His lips curve into a smile, too, and he looks down. He shakes his head and pulls his hair back, then turns his attention back to the items on Aurora's palms. He seems meticulous about which ring goes where, fiddling with them and hunting for specific ones. Eventually, he grabs three at once, and puts them on his pinky, middle and index left fingers.

Aurora raises her chin and rests the back of her head against the wall, comfortably watching his relaxed face as he towers over her.

From what she remembers, jewelry was never Harry's thing. Long hair and skinny jeans? One hundred percent. But the necklaces, the rings, and the bracelets? Those were things she'd no idea he'd be into. Or maybe not to the point of making them part of his casual look to the airport.

"So," she teases, easing her dry lips with her tongue then forcing her voice to sound exactly like she imagines a reporter would sound like, "Harry, would you say you enjoy wearing rings?"

Harry darts his eyes to her, and the expression on his face never falters, holding a serious and unamused demeanor as he moves his lips to say, "Bloody hate them."

She presses her lips together, but then she snorts, taking her free hand to cover her mouth.

Harry shakes his head and grins, changing hands and catching two more rings to put on his right fingers.

"Why? What's wrong with my rings?"

She sighs and shrugs, calming down from her brief moment of foolish, silly laughter.

"Nothing. 'M just teasing you."

He places the last two, and pulls the two golden strings from her palm.

"Hmm…" Harry nods. He fixes his eyes on the jewelry and frowns, eying the many tiny knots that had formed along the necklaces. "Great, then. Glad you're having fun at my expense."

Aurora drops her jaw.

"You were making fun of me two minutes ago!"

Harry chuckles, although he's distracted by his attempt to untangle his necklaces. "Guess I was, huh."

He shakes his head, and Aurora steps away from the wall, getting closer to him.

"Which wrist do you wear this one?" she asks, lifting her hand and his bracelet.

"Left—I mean, right," he answers, and although they don't look at each other's faces, they both smile at the same time.

Harry remains focused on the knotted strings between his fingers, but stops moving when Aurora curls one hand around his right wrist and pulls it closer to her face. In one quick movement, she clasps the item around it, then taps his hand twice.

"All done. Now gimme that."

She snatches the necklaces from him, and observes carefully before undoing the mess. One of the golden strings is longer than hers, but they're both just as delicate, and instead of a disk, one holds a cross pendant, and the other a tiny, thin tag. She bites her lip and patiently fiddles with the pieces of jewelry, taking her time to unwrap the tiny knots.

Things are quiet. Time ticks without a hurry. And after a minute, or maybe two, or three, she grins proudly, and lifts her chin to look at him.

"Look!" she says, even though she doesn't have to — Harry's already looking at her, already watching her. "I've done it!"

He blinks a couple of times, then nods, slowly mimicking her smile and her excitement. "Y—You did, yeah! Thanks."

"You're welcome." She grabs the longest string, picking each side with one hand, and takes a step closer to him. "I find untangling necklaces weirdly therapeutic."

Harry widens his eyes. "What are you doing?!"

Aurora rolls her eyes, and chuckles. "Calm down. I'm not gonna kiss you, don't worry."

"Right. No, yeah, I know that." He chuckles, too. "Of course."

She stops moving and tilts her head, then raises her hands. "I mean, can I?"

"Wha—" Harry takes a step back. "Kiss me?!"

"Harry!" Aurora shrieks, also taking a step back and away from him. "Oh my God, no!"

She looks at him for a moment, taking in his bulged eyes and raised eyebrows. He looks mortified, and there's so much going on at once that she can't help but burst into laughter — at the misunderstanding, at the look of his face, but also at the terror in his voice.

She turns away from him, throwing her head back as laughter breaches from her chest.

"This is… I can't…"

"Sorry," Harry says, "I just—"

Aurora shakes her head, feeling warmth radiating from her chest throughout her entire body.

"Oh my… Oh my God." She places one hand on her stomach and brings the other to her face, fanning herself while taking a deep breath in through her nose. "You should've… You should've seen your face… Oh God… Harry… You panicked so hard, I just…"

She wipes a tear from under her eye, and takes another deep breath in, working to calm herself down.

"I never… I never thought the idea of kissing me could… Could be that terrifying for someone. Oh God."

Harry sighs. "Auri…"

She turns around, and looks at him with the biggest smile on her face, her body still shaking from laughing.

Harry isn't happy, though. Or at least he doesn't seem to be. He's narrowing his eyes, and furrowing his brows. His lips are pressed into a hard line, and his forehead is puckered.

And just like that, Aurora's laughter fades away.

Shit.

She's too familiar with that dynamic, so she clears her throat and shakes her head.

"I'm sorry. I—I know it wasn't funny. I just… I think I haven't laughed this hard in a really long time, so I just… I got carried away, I guess. I'm sorry. But I shouldn't—Sorry."

"Listen, I didn't—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Actually, Aurora doesn't know. Of course she doesn't know. She has absolutely no idea what he was about to say, but she doesn't want to talk about it. She's been there before. And she's been there before so many times that her mind and body don't even know how to react any other way. How not to anticipate the humiliation and shame that is about to follow. How not to completely shut off.

Thankfully, Harry seems to get it, because he nods, grabbing his necklaces from her hand and putting them back inside of his pocket.

And this time, Aurora doesn't say anything about it, grabbing her bag from the floor and feeling ready to move on.

"Do you mind if we take a look around some of the shops?" Aurora asks, pointing around the World Duty Free and breaking the silence that settled between them for the past few minutes.

Harry moves slowly next to her, keeping his hands inside of his pockets. "'Course not."

"Thanks." She makes sure to curve her mouth into a smile, then stops at the first shop to take a look at the makeup.

Things are quiet, but Harry stands right behind her all the time, keeping her company while she brings a lipstick closer to her face to check the color shade, and then following her steps when she moves to a different shelf.

"Hey," Aurora says, looking over her shoulder, "what's your cologne?"

"Hm..." He scratches his jaw and shrugs. "Depends on the day, I guess."

She nods, then turns to face some nail polish, aiming for the brightest options.

It's been a while since she's done her nails. She used to love looking at her hands and seeing them colorful and filled with rings, it used to make her feel beautiful and delicate. Feminine.

Zack used to love it as well, though, and to be honest at some point she stopped doing a lot of things Zack liked. Just because.

"Which one are you wearing today, then?"

"Why?"

She shrugs. His voice is right behind her, but Aurora doesn't turn around to look at him.

"'Cause you smell really nice."

Maybe she could do her nails in Italy… Maybe one of the girls brought something with them.

Or maybe she could get something herself…

The orange shades look nice…

She sighs, and steps away from the shelf.

She can't. She shouldn't spend her money like that. She needs to be more careful now, especially since she spent a lot of unplanned money on that trip to Italy.

She turns her head, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "So…?"

Harry clears his throat. "Uh… Well… It's Guerlain."

Aurora twirls, holding her bag close to her body as her hair and dress follow her brisk movement.

"Cool! Let's find it, then."

She walks away, and Harry's low chuckle echoes behind her.

Although she can't see him, she feels his presence all the time, following her pace.

"What for?" he asks.

"I don't know." She shrugs, looking from one side to the other. Scanning all the tiny duty-free shops. "I'm bored, I'm tired… Oh! There it is!"

Her pace quickens, and so does Harry's.

Aurora only stops when she's in front of the Guerlain shelves, and then she turns around, staring at him with a smile on her face and pointing her arm to the many colognes displayed behind her.

"Which one is yours?"

He clears his throat, and—

Wait, is he blushing?

Aurora purses her lips, holding herself back from laughing.

"It's L'Homme Idéal Extrême."

"Hmmm." She wiggles her eyebrows, and pulls one corner of her mouth up in a smirk. "Sounds sexy…"

"Jesus Christ," Harry grunts, hiding his face behind both of his hands and shaking his head.

Aurora laughs at his reaction, tapping his shoulder twice before turning on her feet and looking for his cologne.

"What happened to you in the States, huh?" She leans down, squinting to read the names. "Never thought I would see Harry Styles getting all shy in front of me."

It takes him a moment to answer, but eventually he mumbles, "I've always been shy in front of you."

Aurora pauses for a moment, replaying his words in her mind. Images of them hanging out together pop up immediately — at the pub, at someone's apartment, after class, over the weekend. His cheeky glances, touchy hands and bold comments are always present, one way or another. He always craved attention, and people had no problem granting his wishes.

It never bothered her, because he was young and had just joined university, but it certainly didn't paint him as a shy and reserved person.

A snort leaves her mouth. "Yeah, right."

She stands, and puts her hands on her waist. "What was the sexy name again?"

"L'Homme—" He sighs. "It's this one."

Aurora turns around, only to find Harry standing in the same place they were a minute ago. The shelf next to him is filled with bottles of the same cologne. Apparently, his cologne.

She gasps.

"Harry!" She walks towards him, and Harry shakes his head in soft laughter, scratching the back of his neck. "I was standing right next to it and you didn't tell me!"

"It's just a very common cologne, Auri." He laughs, again. It sounds kind of shaky, though, and she frowns, stopping on her track. "I don't… Why are we looking for it?"

Uh…

Well… To be honest… She doesn't have an answer for that.

She doesn't know why they're looking for it. She is just joking. She just wanted to pass the time because she is exhausted, and because the longer she spends around people, the more afraid she is of falling apart at any moment. She thought maybe she could try it on, see if his cologne would smell as well on her skin as it smelled on his… Who knows… She was just… She wasn't thinking, okay? She was just being her stupid self.

Harry, on the other hand, isn't just messing around. Harry looks actually nervous.

Her jokes are making him nervous.

She is making him uncomfortable.

In the middle of an airport, filled with people.

Shit.

And she's done it twice now.

First with the necklace… Now with the cologne…

Fuck.

How many more times till he reaches his breaking point?

How many more times till she finally pushes him through the edge?

How many more times till she puts him in a position where he won't be able to stop himself from snapping at her?

Her hands shake, and her stomach quivers.

"Yeah, no, I mean…" She shakes her head and smiles at him, closing her hands into fists and placing them behind her back. "You're right. Sorry. I—I'm really sorry. Hm… I think I… I should get a coffee."

Harry flinches his head back. "Wait what?"

"Coffee. It'll keep me awake." She walks around him, and Harry follows her movements.

"Auri, but what… Hey! What about my cologne?"

She waves it off. "Yeah, I know. I was just being annoying."

She moves towards the exit of the duty-free, where all the departure gates are, and another yawn breaks through her lips.

"Yep." She chuckles. "Definitely need some coffee."

"Auri," Harry calls, catching up with her. "Hey, stop. C'mon. Something just happened."

"What do you mean?" Aurora laughs.

She flexes her fingers, curling and uncurling them. Her eyes wander around the airport, looking for a coffee shop.

A coffee shop.

She needs a coffee shop. She needs to get herself together. She needs to busy herself with something before she does something silly and stupid again.

"I… I don't know. Why did you change your mind?"

Harry walks next to her, and she offers him a smile.

"About what?"

"What do you mean about what? About my cologne, Auri!"

Aurora flinches.

"Sorry. Yeah, no, right. The cologne. Yeah. I just… I made you uncomfortable and I was being childish. Sorry."

"I wasn't uncomfortable, Auri, I just—"

"I know."

"Auri, no, listen—"

"Harry." She turns around and smiles, then places one hand on his elbow. "It's fine. You don't need to explain yourself. I just… I really, really need a coffee right now. I haven't slept all night, so… Yeah. I'd just like to get a coffee. If you don't mind."

She lets go of his elbow, and Harry sighs.

"Ok, yeah. Let's get you some coffee, then."

They walk forward, side to side, and Harry speaks again.

"Do you still drink caramel coffee?"

Aurora widens her eyes.

"Wow… That's back from… Well, a long time ago."

It's small, and kind of timid, but Harry smiles, and then shrugs. "Used to get you one at least once a week, didn't I?"

"You did, yeah." She smiles back at him and nods, then faces forward again. There's a coffee shop only three stores ahead, and it seems to be already open. Thank God. "To be honest I can't remember the last time I had one. I drink plain black coffee now."

Harry nods, and they both walk in silence, side by side — always side by side.

It shouldn't be uncomfortable, but Aurora's chest is heavy, and her mind seems foggy.

Truth be told, she thought she would have more time before she started disappointing her friends, before letting them know how much she's changed and how uninteresting she's become.

Meeting Harry at the airport got in between her plans, though. And she could feel herself breaking little by little each second. Having to face the memories of someone she used to be, someone she liked to be, but also someone she isn't anymore. And someone she can't be anymore.

Looking at her feet, she bites the inside of her lip. She was acting like a child at the duty-free, wasn't she? Jumping around, excited about his cologne…

God. She hasn't even left the country yet, and she's already ruining things.

She needs to control herself.

She isn't a teenager anymore. She can't embarrass him. She doesn't want to embarrass him.

"Do you want something to eat?" Harry asks, and she stops walking.

They're in front of the coffee shop, but Aurora wouldn't have realized if it weren't for him.

She shakes her head. "No, I'll just get myself a coffee."

"Let me get it for you."

What?

She takes a step back. "Absolutely not."

Harry's smile falters, but he doesn't give up. "C'mon… Like the old times! Yeah?"

"No, Harry. I mean, thanks, but no. I can pay for mine."

"I know you can pay for yours, I don't—"

"Please." She shakes her head and looks down to the floor. "It's just a silly coffee. I can get it for me. Okay?"

Harry frowns.

"Ok? Yeah."

Aurora nods, looks at the shop, then back to the floor. "Are you getting anything?"

"No, I'll just wait here."

"Okay," she whispers, forcing a smile before turning around and walking away.

It's crazy to see how much Harry has changed.

That's all Aurora can think about while she stands in line and watches him type on his phone.

He's still outside, waiting for her, and seems deeply engaged with his conversation, frowning while his fingers move rapidly.

No more black skinny jeans, no more vintage t-shirts or Chelsea boots. No more curls that are longer than her own hair. No more thin shoulders nor skinny arms.

His baggy pants — wide legged, high-waisted — are beige, his cute shoes are yellow, and she still can't get over the flamingo shirt he's wearing.

He looks older, too. Brooding features, chiseled cheekbones, growing stubble. His face is perfectly carved, his traces have hardened, and there is something very manly about the way he stands there, focusing on typing on his phone.

It isn't just his physical appearance, though. He acts like a grown-up, too. There's something about the way he simply exists that screams how much he's changed. You would never tell the man standing outside is the same boy who used to make stupid bets with his roommates from uni. But it's clear that Harry isn't a boy anymore, and that he's turned into a man.

And Aurora wasn't prepared to deal with that.

Aurora lowers her chin and rubs her eyes.

She is being ridiculous.

Why would she need to be prepared for that?

Of course Harry grew up! How old is he now, anyway? 29? 30? Of course he isn't the same anymore.

She should focus on how nice it is to see him again, not about stupid things.

Who would've thought she would actually meet him at the airport? Who would've thought they'd end up sharing the flight? Standing in line with him, hopefully getting some seats next to each other… She should appreciate having a friend by her side. That's all.

Aurora can't remember why he stopped hanging out with the group, though, and now she can't stop thinking about it. She has absolutely no idea about anything that could be going on with his life. It was as if Harry had grown more and more distant with time, until he wasn't there at all.

She's still pretty sure the last time she saw him was at her and Zack's wedding. She remembers someone telling her he'd moved to the United States, but why wasn't she at his graduation? It didn't make sense. Especially considering how, around a year later, he was kind enough to send them a basket when Noah was born.

They weren't the closest friends, and they were in very different stages of their lives when they met, sure, but they were part of the same group, and she used to have a soft spot for him. Just like she used to have a soft spot for Niall.

Usually, when they were all at the pub, everyone would leave and the three of them would stay behind, chatting and laughing until Aurora felt her lids closing by themselves and they would walk her home. They both used to make her laugh all the time, and she actually loved spending those moments with them.

Until she met Zack, of course, and then she started spending her nights with him.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it wasn't about him. Maybe she had grown more and more distant, until she wasn't around anymore. At all.

She knows it's something she's done with everyone else, at least. The girls would knock on her door from time to time, though, and she couldn't run from everyone whilst living in the same city, but Harry flying overseas was a different situation. So it makes sense they didn't keep up with their friendship.

It makes sense, but it still bothers her.

It bothers her because she forgot how easy, and fun, and electrifying it was to be around him. She forgot how affectionate, attentive, kind, and friendly he was. She forgot how spontaneous and cheerful she used to be with him. She forgot how much she enjoyed his carefree and easygoing way of looking at life. She forgot…

Well, to be honest, it's like she just forgot about him.

And how could she forget about him?

Harry used to be such a great friend.

Just like Niall.

But somehow different.

Because there's something about the way Harry looks at her that she never found in Niall's eyes. It has something to do with Harry's curiosity, probably. How much he cares about details. How he likes to know more about people, about things, about everything.

"Next?" the lady behind the counter shouts.

Aurora shakes her head, and darts her eyes away from Harry.

She has no idea how much time she just spent staring at him. She didn't even notice she was doing it, to be honest. And she can only hope he didn't notice, as well.

The woman behind her taps her shoulder.

"That's you, miss," she says.

Aurora widens her eyes and steps forward. "Oh, yes, sorry… Hi!"

Their flight is delayed.

Aurora laughs, and rubs her fingers on her forehead.

"And I was worried I'd be late," she murmurs.

They've been hanging out by their gate for at least half an hour now. Harry sits next to her, their bags placed together on his opposite side. He's leaning back comfortably, arms crossed on top of his abdomen and legs spread open in front of him.

He nudges her arm with his elbow, then asks, "What was that?"

She shakes her head and waves him off with one hand, then double taps her phone with the other, lighting up the screen.

It's 6:30.

Noah should be waking up by now. Or at least Zack should be trying to wake him up.

She unlocks her phone and opens up the app to text him. She takes a deep breath in, and her fingers hover the screen. She needs to be careful with her words, because she doesn't want him to think she doesn't trust him with Noah. That would be unfair with him. And it's not even about that. Of course it's not! She knows Noah's safe with his dad. She swears she never questioned him as a father. Whatever happened between them as a couple would never change the fact that Zack loves Noah to death.

Aurora knows that. Really! The only reason why she wants to know how they're doing is because Noah has never woken up at his dad's new place, and because she knows what a long and emotional process it can be to wake him up. That's all.

She bites her bottom lip, and types the same questions again and again, until she's happy with the way she's phrased them.

Hii!

How are you guys doing?

How was Noah's first night over there? Did you guys have fun?

She sends the messages, and reads them over. And over, and over.

That was good, wasn't it? She sounded friendly, right? She wasn't attacking him, right? He wouldn't be mad at her, right?

"I'll be right back," Harry says, getting up from his seat. He moves past her quickly, looking at his own hand and sliding his finger through the screen of his phone before taking it to his ear. "Hey… Yeah, I know… No, you listen to me…"

Harry doesn't sound happy — at all — and Aurora frowns. She watches him walk away, blending between people, then glances back to her phone.

No signs of Zack yet. Which is fine. Of course. It's not even been a minute. Actually, Aurora is usually so absorbed by Noah in the mornings that she doesn't check her phone until she drops him off at preschool. So it's fine. Really.

Hopefully he'll be able to make him have breakfast by 7:15, though. Otherwise they won't get there on time. Should she remind him of that? No, that's stupid. Zack is not stupid, and she always drives him insane for reminding him of the obvious little details.

Maybe he won't even take him to preschool. Maybe he'll drive him over to his parents, instead.

Or maybe she should just trust him. Maybe this would be the time he'd follow through with a promise he'd made.

Another yawn sneaks up on her. She slides down on her seat and rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands.

Maybe she should accept Harry's offer and take a quick nap on his shoulder. She brushed the idea off minutes ago, but now she can't deny it sounds really tempting.

God… How is she supposed to spend two days on a yacht? She's never been on one before. She also hasn't been around all her friends in a very long time…

Is she going to be able to interact with them? Because if they're expecting her to act the same way she used to before getting married… Well, they'll be extremely disappointed.

The only thing about Aurora that'll resemble those old days are the clothes Maddie packed for her.

Shit. Oh shit. Oh… Fuck! Her clothes. No, no, no. Shit! She is going to kill Madison.

She can't wear all those clothes in front of Harry! There is no fucking way she'll walk in front of him in a bikini, or wearing those silk and backless dresses. There is absolutely no fucking way she's going to wear those tops that almost don't cover her breasts in front of him.

Well, not just in front of him, of course…

She's thinking about Harry because he's the one with her right now, but she doesn't want to wear those clothes in front of anyone. Not just him.

It isn't even about the people, really. It's about her body. A body that has changed a lot through the years.

Oh, boy… She needs to sleep. She can't start spiraling about how unsexy she's been feeling for years. It's not the moment for that. It's not what the weekend is about.

"Are you sleeping with your eyes open?" Harry's low and deep voice sounds right next to her ear, and Aurora jumps on her seat.

Harry chuckles behind her, then makes his way around her seat.

"Shit," she murmurs, taking her hand to her chest, but a shaky laugh still leaves her mouth. "You scared me."

He stops in front of her and furrows his brows, then tilts his head to the side and curves his mouth into a cheeky smile, narrowing his eyes to look at her.

"What?" she asks.

He doesn't move, though.

And he also doesn't stop staring at her.

Aurora shifts on her seat.

But the staring still doesn't stop.

"Harry!" She chuckles, and looks away.

And he still doesn't even flinch.

Oh, c'mon! That's ridiculous.

It's like going back to university, honestly. He used to do the same when they were younger, usually at a pub or a club. He would stare at her like that until she stumbled over her own words, or until she forgot what she was about to do. He thought it was hilarious, but she never understood the point of it.

"Knock it off, will ya?" She crosses her arms on top of her chest and rolls her eyes. "I was just thinking."

Harry (finally) laughs, face lighting up again — with dimples and wrinkles and almost fully-closed eyes.

He moves his arm, and puts a paper cup in front of her face.

Aurora snaps her brows together.

"Sorry, love, I was just testing my skills," he says.

Aurora flinches her head back.

Why is he shoving that cup in her eyes?

And also… "What skills?"

He shrugs. "Y'know, to rile you up just by looking at you."

Harry presses his lips together, as if he can't wait to burst out laughing.

And Aurora knows that face, because Noah does the exact same thing. The cheeky little monster loves to surprise her, but he can never hold up a lie. He gives out the entire thing just by looking at her with the same excitement on his face.

They honestly look the same. Except Noah is only four, and Harry a thirty-year-old man.

"Ha ha," she mocks him, looking away from his silly face. "You and my four-year-old son would be great friends."

"Aww!" Harry takes his seat next to her, chuckling and throwing an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to his side. "I'm sure we would."

She rolls her eyes.

Harry squeezes her cheek against his chest, and she's so close to his body that she can smell the soap and cologne emanating from his skin. He smells good. Like a fresh shower. It's a nice combination, something both strong and smooth at the same time.

Shit.

She pulls away, and shakes her head.

"It wasn't a compliment," she murmurs.

Harry chuckles.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that." He withdraws his arm from around her shoulders and takes it back to his side, then puts his hand back in front of her face. The one holding a paper cup. "Now, this is for you."

Aurora raises her eyebrows.

"And what's this supposed to be, exactly?"

"Just try it."

She doesn't make any movement to acknowledge his request, but Harry also doesn't make any movement to hint he'll stop shoving the cup on her face. Eventually, she sighs, and her entire body falls.

"Harry…"

"Oh, c'mon! Just a sip. Amuse me, yeah?"

Aurora glances at his hand, then back at his face. She presses lips together, then finally uncrosses her arms and lifts one of them to reach the cup, curling her fingers around it.

For the sake of not ruining her mood, she ignores the way he cheers, or how he grins proudly before leaning his back against the backrest of his seat. She simply clutches the cup between both hands, instead, and its warmth is a high contrast with her cold skin. She can't help but hum at the feeling, and then she shivers, even her chin trembling a little.

A timid chuckle escapes from her mouth, and she closes her eyes. She brings the cup up to her face and puts her nose close to the lid, breathing the flavor in.

And just like that, her chest tightens.

The smell is unmistakable, a combination between coffee and caramel that she would recognize anywhere, anytime.

She blinks her eyes open, and turns her head to look at him.

Harry is watching her attentively, without any traces of amusement or playfulness surrounding him anymore.

Aurora blinks a couple of times, gathering enough strength to ask him, "Did you… Did you get me a caramel coffee?"

He nods once, only one side of his mouth lifting up. "Yeah."

She looks back at the cup in her hands, and blinks again.

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says, softly. "Intuition, maybe. I know you already had your black coffee, but I… I don't know. I felt like you needed it? I don't know. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, it sounds stupid. Is that okay? Hope I didn't—"

She nods rapidly — unable to speak, but also desperate for him to stop explaining himself.

And thankfully, he does.

Aurora doesn't know what to say about it, though. She doesn't even know if there's anything she can say about it.

His words don't sound stupid to her. That's for sure. The thing is that Harry doesn't understand the meaning his gesture actually holds, which scares her. He was able to pick up on something she needed when she wasn't brave enough to admit it to herself in the first place. And it was something so trivial… It was just coffee. Coffee.

"Noah does that sometimes, y'know," Aurora murmurs, looking at the mass of people in front of them. She hunches down a bit, not bothering by her awful posture as she comforts herself with the hot beverage in between her hands. Changing the subject is the only way she knows how to answer him right now, so she keeps going. "Sleeping with his eyes half open. It freaks me out."

Harry hums.

"There's a name for that, isn't it?"

His voice is as soft and calm as before, and Aurora nods.

"Yeah, nocturnal something… I don't know. I always forget the stupid word." She rolls her eyes, and a humorless laugh leaves her mouth, making her body shake. "How do people even choose these names, huh? Why bother naming it if it's gonna be some ridiculous word no-one can even pronounce?"

"That's… Yeah, I don't know. You have a point, though."

"Sorry," she whispers, looking down at her lap. "Zack drives me insane using all those terms all the time. Makes me feel stupid."

Harry doesn't say anything, but for once the silence between them doesn't feel uncomfortable.

She exhales the frustration out of her body, taking the cup to her mouth and sipping carefully in case it burns her tongue.

The coffee touches her lips, and its sweetness automatically invades all of her senses. Her tongue tastes the caramel, and there's something bitter behind it, but it is mostly mellow and buttery. Just like she remembers it.

And just like that, she's remembering all of it.

She's flooded with memories from the comfort of home, and about the fun of living. Memories with simpleminded thoughts and unpretentious actions.

She's back to a place where she isn't scared of speaking her mind all the time, where she isn't afraid of letting people down by her silly behavior, where she isn't terrified of her personality being the embarrassment of those around her. She's back to a place where she knows her friends and family like her for who she is, and where she's proud of her because of that.

She's full of affectionate touches, sincere words, and genuine feelings.

There's confidence inside her, and an entire world she's willing to find out.

And when she finally gulps down the simplest sip of caramel coffee, warmth takes over her throat. It reverberates through every inch of her body, and she shivers — her body filling with goosebumps as she closes her eyes to the paradoxical feeling.

A moment passes, and the weight of a soft textured fabric lands on her back.

"Before you say anything," Harry's deep voice murmurs next to her, and she opens her eyes to look at him. "I'm not wearing it. And it's driving me insane seeing you so cold, so please just wear it."

Aurora glances at her shoulders, finding Harry's checked jacket covering her skin. It feels good, and it feels warm. And she actually doesn't mind it. At all. But there's something about the way Harry has just talked to her that flies directly into Aurora's heart.

Maybe it's the softness of his voice. Or maybe how worried he sounded. Or maybe the fact that he seems to pay attention to her. Or maybe just because he acts as if he knows her so well. Even after so many years without talking to her. Or seeing her.

Or maybe it's just because she's already on edge because of the damn caramel coffee he bought especially for her.

She doesn't know exactly what it is, but something in his words triggers her into instantly tearing up. She can't help the overreaction, and before she can figure out a way to hide it, the evidence of her crying falls down her cheek, and she's taking a hand up to wipe it off her.

"Auri, hey…"

Harry's hand lands on her back. The last push she needs to turn into an emotional wreck. A sob bursts out of her chest, and she covers her mouth. Oh my God.

"Auri, love, I'm sorry… Did I… I can get the jacket back, I didn't—"

She shakes her head and puts the coffee between her thighs, then takes both hands up to her face. She uses her palms to wipe down the tears from her cheeks, and a long and shaky sigh leaves her mouth.

Harry takes the cup from between her legs, putting it down on the floor before shifting closer to her. His knees bump into the side of her thigh, and the hand that isn't on her back brushes softly her jaw, getting rid of another tear.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she whispers. "You're fine. You didn't… You didn't do anything wrong."

The last thing she wants is for him to see her like that. They haven't seen each other for so long… She doesn't want to welcome him back to her life with tears and drama. She also doesn't want him to feel guilty about something that has nothing to do with him.

"Ok…" He sounds wary, and while one hand rubs circles on her back, the other grabs her hand. "What's going on, tho? What can I do to help?"

Once again, Aurora shakes her head. "I'm… I'm fine. I think I'm just… I'm just exhausted from not sleeping last night."

It isn't a lie, but it also isn't the truth. She doesn't want to admit how lonely she constantly feels, because she wants to learn how to be alone. It doesn't make sense to ask for help when all she wants is to learn how to not need help.

"Why didn't you sleep?"

"It's nothing. Really… Don't worry about me, I'm just being dramatic right now."

He strokes his thumb up and down on the back of her hand, and Aurora sighs, leaning into the warmth of his jacket.

Warmth. Apparently that's all she craves now.

"Of course I worry about you, Auri. And I'm here if you need anything, ok?"

She nods, but his care for her brings another wave of tears, and she hides behind one hand while the other holds tightly onto him.

"C'mere," he murmurs, dragging the hand on her back to her shoulder and pulling her to his chest.

She can't believe the amount of times she's been hugged by him in merely a couple of hours, but she doesn't fight him. In fact, she does quite the opposite: she snuggles into him and cries quietly. And when Harry squeezes her shoulders, she squeezes his fingers in response.

"Talk to me, love, please. What's going on?"

She sniffs. "Nothing…"

He rubs her arm, softly and tenderly, then carefully adds, "I don't wanna force you, but I can tell something's up and I'm worried about you."

Aurora shakes her head, feeling the desperation in her body slip out of her mouth as she cries to him. "Please don't... I don't want… I don't wanna worry you, ok? I really don't. I don't want to bother you. I'm just… Overreacting. I'll be fine. I'll be—"

"Auri, that's not—"

"Yes. Yes it is. It's just—"

"Stop doing that," he says, squeezing her shoulder. "You keep shutting me off every time I try to explain myself."

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear. I'm sorry—"

"Auri—

"—I'm so sorry—"

"—It's okay—"

"—I really am—"

"Auri, hey!" He pulls back, grabbing her shoulders with both hands and forcing her to look at him. His eyes are warm and caring as he stares inside hers, but there's a frown all over his face that screams something different. Annoyance, perhaps? Or maybe… Frustration? "Listen to me. It's fine, ok? There's no need for you to apologize. It's fine."

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. "No…"

"Yes, it's fine, Auri."

"It's not—"

"Yes—"

"No!" Aurora opens her eyes, but tears quickly blurry her sight. She blinks, and before she knows it, she's fully sobbing and crying again. "It's not fine! Ok?! I'm not… I'm not fine, Harry. I'm not! I'm falling apart and I just… It's like I can't stop… And I just… I hate it, ok? I really do… I keep letting everyone down. And I… Fuck… I have no idea how… How am I supposed to spend the entire weekend…. The entire weekend pretending my life isn't a mess right now? I just… I can't… I can't pretend… I'm not… I can't…"

There's only a beat of silence before Harry pulls her into his chest again, squeezing her shoulders while he takes a long, deep, and heavy breath in. Then exhales loudly through his nose.

"I don't know what's going on with your life right now," he says softly, resting his chin on the top of her head and closing his eyes while she sobs into his chest. "And I know I haven't been around, but I'm here for you, ok?"

And just like before, Aurora melts into him. She hugs his waist, and leans against his body despite the uncomfortable and public position they're in. Crying all the tears she's been holding in so far. Silently sharing with him all the hurt, the doubts, and the insecurities she's been feeling. All the blaming, the questioning, and the yelling she's been hiding. Letting him absorb the wreck she is turned into after six years of marriage. All the failures. All the mistakes. All the countless "should've done better", and also "should've tried harder". She lets it all out. With no hold backs, nor regrets.

"And you don't have to pretend, Auri," he adds. "At least not to me. Not even a little bit. Never… Why would you even pretend, huh? I can't be there for you if you don't let me know your life's a mess, and I want to be there for you. You know I do, yeah?"

Aurora can't answer him, not when her body's turning everything inside her into tears and sobbing, but he doesn't seem to be waiting for any words. Nor reactions. He rubs her back gently, while still holding her tightly, and then just keeps talking.

"Besides, I don't expect anything from you, so—I mean, wait… That's not—Shit. That didn't sound good."

And despite everything, despite all the pain and all the tears and all the fears, a soft and low chuckle escapes from Aurora's chest.

"That came out wrong… It's not—It's not what I wanted to say. Because of course I expect things from you, like… You're brilliant. You're amazing. You can do amazing things if you want to, ok? I know you can. What I meant is that—That there's no pressure, y'know? That's all. And that no matter what you do or what you say, nothing will change... I mean, I haven't been around, but you don't have to pretend things are good if they aren't, y'know? I'll be your friend even if… I don't know… Even if everything's falling apart… Actually, I want to be there especially when everything's falling apart, ok? So yeah, I just—Jesus Christ." He sighs. "Fuck. Auri please tell me you know what I'm trying to say here because I'm just freaking myself out right now."

Aurora's chuckle turns into laughter, and she nods against his chest, taking one hand up to her face to wipe off the last few tears.

"I do, yes." She clears her throat, trying to get rid of some of the scratchiness. "Relax. I got it from the beginning."

Harry smiles and sighs again, squeezing her shoulders. "Could've said something, huh? Stop me there. Save me the embarrassment, maybe?"

"You said I kept cutting you off when you tried to explain yourself, so…" Aurora shrugs.

"Ohh, I see. Okay." Harry laughs. "We should work on your timing, then. Smartass."

She smiles, and sniffs. "My timing's perfect. It was cute, and I was having fun."

"Of course you were."

Although she can't see him, the smile is obvious in his voice, and she sighs. A long and heavy sigh. One that's strong enough to relax her entire body, and that makes her close her eyes and drop her shoulders.

"Thank you," she murmurs, still into his chest.

"Yeah," he murmurs back. "Anytime, love."

There's a pause between them. And then Harry speaks again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, to be honest… At least not right now."

"Ok…"

Another pause, and then…

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She takes a deep, long breath in, then exhales while snuggling into his chest.

"Can we just… Stay like this for another minute? Just… Y'know… In silence?"

"Hm… So you want me to shut up, is that it?"

Aurora chuckles.

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but…"

Harry chuckles, too.

"'S fine. I don't mind. We can stay like this for as long as you want."

And so they do.

They hug for a while. In silence. A tight embrace that's simple, but that's also intense enough to let her know that he's there for her.

Aurora can't remember the last time she's been held like this, with honest tenderness and affection. The kind of hug that she doesn't question, and that comes naturally. That feels natural.

"This was supposed to be a fun weekend," she murmurs, curling a little bit more into him and closing her eyes to avoid facing the world. "Can't believe I'm seeing you for the first time in years and already bringing all this drama to you."

Harry chuckles lightly.

"Don't be silly, ok? We've been over this already… We're friends and this is what friends are for." He kisses the top of her head, and then rests his cheek against the same place. "Besides, we didn't leave London yet. We can still have plenty of fun."

Aurora sighs. "God. I really need to have some fun. I miss having fun."

"I'll make sure you get more than some."

He squeezes her shoulder, and Aurora smiles.

Still with her eyes closed, and pressing her ear against his chest, she listens to his heartbeat, and to the way he breathes. He isn't calm, but he is steady, and somehow comfortable. So she focuses on him, and only him. As if mimicking his rhythm, or syncing with his pace, could make everything in her life feel better.

Harry sighs against her, and when the thumping inside him gets faster, she pulls one arm from around his waist to rest her hand on the left side of his chest. She spreads her fingers open where his heart is, and breathes in and out slowly, hoping to calm him down again.

He takes one hand to her neck, sliding it to the back of her head and tangling his fingers with her hair.

As he scratches her scalp, Aurora can feel every muscle of her body fully relaxing. It's soothing. And it's safe. There's no other place she would rather be right now, and she's convinced that, as long as she's holding him and he's holding her, she'll finally relax and rest like she hasn't been able to in so long.

"Have you always been such a great hugger?" she asks, her voice as soft and as slow as her body feels.

Harry clears his throat, then murmurs, "I don't know."

Aurora hums.

Another moment passes, until she breaks the silence again.

"I'm sorry for being a shitty friend."

"You're not a shitty friend."

"But I am, tho. I have no idea what's going on with your life… It's been so long and I… I never reached out."

Harry sighs, and shifts on his seat.

Aurora follows his movements, making sure the hug doesn't end even when he seems to be pulling away.

He doesn't, though — pull away. He simply leans back on his seat, pulling her along with him. And because she's still comfortable against his chest, she doesn't see the way his face falls, how he presses his lips together in a hard line, or glares at random people passing by.

"It's fine," he eventually says.

And she's so focused on her own past behavior, that she also doesn't notice the slight change in his voice.

"It's not, though."

"I never reached out either, did I? And I should have… I just… I should have."

She fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, and although it takes her a moment to answer, the words fly easily out of her mouth. "I'm not sure if it would've made any difference, to be honest… I've pushed everyone away, would've done the same to you."

"There's no fucking way I would've let you."

"It wouldn't be up to you, tho."

A ding-ding-dong blares from the speakers in the lounge area.

"Attention passengers on Ryanair flight 1832 to Naples, we are now ready for boarding at gate 56. Passengers on Ryanair flight 1832 to Naples, we are now ready for boarding at gate 56. Boarding is for business class and passengers with…"

The attendant's voice fades as Aurora stops paying attention to it. She blinks her eyes open and, against her wishes, pulls away from Harry's arms.

"Finally," she breathes out.

When she looks at him, she finds nothing but honesty and affection inside his eyes, and it's enough to make her heart skip a beat.

She curves her lips into a smile, then brings her hands up to wipe the dry tears from her cheeks. "Thank you."

Harry smiles, too. "You've said that already."

"I know." She nods, dropping her hands back to her lap. "I just… Thank you, really. For now and… And for the coffee. Even though I forgot to drink it."

He takes one hand to her face, and puts some of her hair behind her ear.

"We'll have time for another one," he says, then stares into her eyes again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah…" She gulps down, captivated by his gaze. "I think… I think it'd be nice if we could catch up, right? I mean, there's so much about you that I don't know…"

Harry smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes.

"There isn't anything crazy to know about me."

Aurora furrows her brows.

"Well I don't need crazy information, Harry," she scoffs, making sure the tone of her voice is carrying some playfulness while she rolls her eyes. "I just wanna know what's up with your life… Where do you live? Do you have any dogs, or cats? Where do you work? Do you have a girlfriend? Do you have any kids? Are you married? I don't know…"

Harry stares blankly at her for a moment, then looks away, reaching for their bags.

"Those are too many questions, love."

Aurora shrugs.

"Well, yeah…" She leans down and picks up her coffee. The cup feels cold, and although she's sad she didn't get to drink it, she wouldn't change anything about what happened in the last… Well, however long it's been since they got here. "I know. I'm curious. That's why I said it'd be nice to catch up."

She stands up and rearranges Harry's jacket, putting it on properly so it doesn't fall from her shoulders, then waits while he stands as well, picking their bags from the seat next to his.

"Ok, yeah. Sure. We can catch up."

"Wow." She snorts and widens her eyes. "Calm down, now. Don't sound sooo excited, please."

Harry laughs. He puts his own bag on his shoulder, and she takes hers from his hand.

"I'd love for us to catch up, Auri. I really would."

"Okay…" She narrows her eyes at him, putting her bag on her shoulder and walking towards the line. "Are you hiding something from me?"

Harry follows her, grabbing his boarding pass and passport from the front pocket of his bag. "Why would I hide something from you?"

"I don't know…" She throws the coffee cup away, then adds, "Maybe you're working with the FBI. Or, maybe you're married to someone who works for the FBI. Ohhhhh," — she widens her eyes, looking at him while he leads their way to the gate — "or maybe, you're married to someone who's being investigated by the FBI!"

Harry chuckles through his nose. He sneaks his hands inside Aurora's bag, pulling her boarding pass and passport from it.

"There's no FBI involved, I promise," he says, handing her the items.

"Hmmm…" She grabs her things from his hand, and nibbles her bottom lip before asking, "But you're married to someone?"

"Nop."

"Okay… Dating to someone?"

He shakes his head, and Aurora nods.

"Are relationships a touchy subject, maybe?"

Harry smirks, and that's more than enough to give Aurora an answer, but she still waits for him to say something.

Anything.

"I broke up with someone not too long ago." He shrugs. "So I'm not in the mood for relationships right now, to be honest. And that includes talking about it."

The line moves quickly, and they take a step forward.

"Oh, sure. Yeah. I get it. Of course." Aurora nods. "I'm sorry, tho. Y'know, that it didn't work out."

He shrugs, and they walk again.

"'S fine."

The shift in his behavior is loud and clear, and it bothers her. The idea of someone breaking Harry's heart deep enough for the pain to overshadow his excitement and dull the brightness of his smile doesn't feel right. So it bothers her. It really does. Whoever it was, he surely deserved someone much better. He surely deserves someone better.

A flight attendant welcomes them with a grin and a cheerful good morning. Aurora smiles back, and hands him her passport and boarding pass, then waits for him to return them. He wishes her a safe flight, and repeats the same process with Harry.

Aurora waits for him in silence, and once they're both ready to walk through the airgate, she picks the conversation back on.

"I'm sure you'll find someone, y'know? It won't be that hard. You're still young, and dating was never a problem for you, so…"

There's a pause, and then Harry snorts. "Dating was never a problem for me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y'know… That's what you, Niall and Jayden used to do all the time, wasn't it? Dating and… Flirting and hooking up with everyone?"

Harry stops walking and turns to stare at her in silence, with widened eyes and flared nostrils.

Aurora stops, too, biting her lip to hold back her amusement while waiting for him to say something.

He doesn't, but he eventually laughs, throwing his head back and making her fully smile at him. He shakes his head, and starts walking again.

"Jeez, Auri, I'm so offended right now."

"Oh c'mon…" She chuckles, following his steps. "I meant it as a compliment, okay? Like… Girls were always into you, that's all."

"Not all girls, though."

"Fine." She shrugs. "Ninety-five percent of them, then."

He snorts again. "Ok."

"How old were you when we met? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Nineteen."

"Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, it was my second year. Why?"

"Nothing. I think… For a moment I just forgot you're so much younger than me, that's all."

"C'mon, not so much, I'm almost thirty now."

"Well, yes, but I'm thirty-five."

"See? Same age."

She chuckles. "We're not the same age."

"Ok, but almost."

"Not even close, Harry."

"Oh c'mon! Then what are you now? Ancient? Should I call you grandma?"

She chuckles. "Well… I do feel ancient, to be honest."

He rolls his eyes. "This is ridiculous. You're just as young as I am."

She shakes her head.

"Yeah, I mean, I know that… But I don't know… I mean, talking to you right now I don't feel like you're younger, y'know? Let alone that much. But also—"

"It's not that much."

"No, I know. But if you think about it, I already got married and I have a four-year-old at home, so like, I really am too old and—What?" Harry is frowning at her, and she tilts her head. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shrugs, then faces forward, away from her. "I'm trying to decide if I should kick your ass right now or just throw you into the ocean later."

She gasps, but then she chuckles. "What? Whyyy?"

Harry raises his eyebrows at her. "I'm only five years younger than you, Auri. Five. It's not even a big deal."

She sighs.

The line in front of them moves, and they move forward as well.

"Sorry. You're right. Like I said, it doesn't feel like it right now, but I think… I don't know. When you were 19 and I was 24 it was different, yeah? I mean, we were in different stages of our lives. I was meeting Zack and you were—"

"Yes, I know. I was there, remember?"

She swallows down, and nods.

"Sorry," she repeats, much softer this time.

Aurora walks in silence, staring at the plane at the end of the hallway.

She pretends to ignore the way Harry keeps glancing at her, or how he rubs the back of his neck, or how he rolls his shoulders. She knows she bothered him, and the idea of causing a scene when they're about to get into a plane feels terrifying. She should've kept her mouth shut, that way she wouldn't have them put them in that situation. Again.

It's like she's been riding on a rollercoaster she never knew she would get into in the first place. Going through multiple sudden changes of speed and directions. Slowly climbing a steep slope and painfully anticipating the fall before she actually drops directly into the ground. Holding herself during the unexpected tight turns and sharp curves, and gasping for air at every inverted loop. Experiencing the ups and downs of gravity as she's weightless and happy at the top of the hill, then all of a sudden her own personality is pushing her back down to reality. And by the end of it, the back of her throat hurts, her stomach feels funny, and there's just heaviness all over her body.

"Hey," Harry calls.

He shifts his bag from one shoulder to the other and puts his arm around her, pulling her closer even though they're still walking. He kisses the top of her head, and keeps his lips there as he speaks. "'M sorry. Shouldn't have cut you off like that."

Aurora shrugs. "It's fine."

"It's not. We were just joking and I… I took it personally, 'm sorry."

He kisses her head, again, and her lashes flutter.

She knows he's sorry, but she doesn't know what to say to him. She knows how easy it is for her to forgive when she shouldn't, and how many times in the last six years she believed in empty apologies.

So although she knows, she isn't sure she can trust herself.

She hasn't been trusting herself for a while now.

A new flight attendant welcomes them into the plane, and they both pull away from each other.

Aurora walks in front of Harry, and she does her best to smile genuinely at the cheerful woman that's wishing them a good morning and a good flight.

She holds the strap of her bag tightly on her shoulder, and walks through the narrow carpeted aisle, focusing on the numbers and letters above the seats as if she's looking for specific ones. She pauses here and there for other passengers that are getting settled, and it's only past the emergency door that Harry speaks again.

"Should we sit here?" he asks. He's pointing to the opposite side where she's facing, so she turns around, finding three empty seats.

"Okay."

She nods, and tilts her chin up to check the space to put her bag. Harry is quicker, though, because he is already closing his fingers around the strap on her shoulder and pushing it away from her arm.

"I'll put our bags together, yeah?"

She doesn't want to fight him about it, so she simply thanks him with the best smile she can offer and allows him to easily grab her duffel bag.

She slides through the two empty seats to reach the one by the window, not waiting any longer to secure the seat belt and make herself comfortable. Once she's settled, she clasps her hands together, and takes a deep breath in. Her chin trembles, and she looks down, biting the inside of her cheek. She doesn't want to cry again. She really doesn't want to cry again.

Also, she needs to sleep. She must get some sleep. There is absolutely no way she is going to handle spending the entire day awake, and if she doesn't sleep now, she'll only get an opportunity again at the yacht — meaning she won't get to spend any time with her friends.

Harry sits next to her and puts his own belt on, then turns off his phone and shoves it into his pocket. Aurora doesn't look at him, but he turns sideways anyway, leaning his shoulder on the back of the seat and blocking them from any possible curious eyes.

He grabs one of her hands from her lap and takes her fingers to his mouth, placing a long kiss to her knuckles before sighing.

"Auri, love," his voice is soft, and a whisper for only them to hear, "I really am sorry."

She nods, taking her free hand to wipe a tear before it could roll down her cheek.

Shit.

"Please, don't cry."

"Mhm."

"Auri… Look at me, please."

She shakes her head, then. Because she knows that she'll fall apart all over again if she looks at him.

God, she's so tired.

"I didn't…" she murmurs, then takes a deep breath and tries again. "I didn't mean anything bad by the age thing… I promise."

"I know that, love. Of course I know," he says, pressing another kiss to her hand. "Fuck. I know. We were just joking. And I'm not mad about it, I promise. I mean, I was actually a stupid hormonal teenager back when we met, so yeah… You're right, things were different. But please, Auri, I hate that I made you cry just because I… Shit, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. It wasn't about you, I promise."

She stares at her knees and nods, because she knows he is. And she also knows she can trust him, which is probably why she — finally — honestly blurts out, "I keep messing everything up, y'know? All the time."

He brushes his thumb on the back of her hand, then murmurs back to her, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I just… I keep letting everyone down, and I hate it, but it's like I can't stop it. And I mean, to be honest I don't… I don't even recognize myself anymore. I used to have so much fun, and I felt so different about life… And I treated people around me so differently… And now I'm just… I don't know… I don't know why I say things, or why I do things. I don't know what I want, or what to do with my life… And I feel so… Lonely… All the damn time. But I get why I'm lonely, y'know? I mean it's true that I don't know how to be anything else besides being Noah's mum. And I'm so insensitive to other people because of that, and I keep saying things I shouldn't and I just… I look back and I realize how I pushed everyone away… How I… I don't know, I'm so tired of this. I'm just so tired of myself."

There is a pause between them, mostly because Harry's waiting for the people in front of them to settle and stop prying at their conversation.

It's good, though, because it gives her time to catch her breath again.

And then, Harry leans deeper into his seat, still holding tightly to her hand.

"Is that how he made you feel?"

Aurora furrows her brows. "What—Who?"

"Zack. Is that how Zack made you feel?"

"I… No! Why—I mean, I'm just… I'm talking about myself."

"Auri, c'mon… I know you're talking about yourself, but I can read between the lines."

She closes her eyes and takes her hand up to her face, rubbing her forehead while she prepares herself to just keep blurting out what her mind is begging her to tell him.

"I think…" she says, dropping her hand back to her lap and blinking. "I think he really messed me up, y'know?"

Harry sighs.

It takes him a moment to say something. A moment that feels really, really long to her.

And then…

"Fuck." He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his chest, murmuring while resting his cheek on the back of her head, "I'm sorry."

She shrugs, snuggling into him and searching for his heartbeat, just like before.

"'S not your fault."

"But I should've been there for you."

"You wouldn't have known."

"Still… This isn't how it was supposed to be."

God, she's so tired…

Her entire body is heavy, and she doesn't even know what's happening around them anymore. She can't even make sense of their conversation anymore.

Harry feels too cozy, though, and she knows she's about to have the comfiest sleep of her life — she can feel it.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I got divorced six months ago."

Harry closes his eyes, then rearranges himself on his seat and pulls her closer to him.

"I know."

"You know? How?"

"Niall."

"Oh. Okay?"

"I texted him while you were getting your coffee."

She places her hands on his hips, holding her weight to pull away from him.

Harry doesn't let her, though, squeezing her inside of his arms and locking her in.

"Please stay," he murmurs.

And Aurora doesn't fight him. She just relaxes again — she relaxes and listens to him.

"You weren't wearing a ring… And I could tell something was up, so I… I asked him. That's all. Sorry if I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. I needed to know."

"Oh…" The concept of time is foggy inside her mind, but she's pretty sure a few seconds go by before she speaks again. "'S okay, I guess. I mean… Niall knows about the divorce, but he doesn't… He doesn't know the whole story. He doesn't know how bad it was."

"Does anyone know?"

"You?" She chuckles, but it's humorless, because she knows that not even Harry truly knows. "I just… I haven't been able to talk about it yet, or like… Process it, I think. I don't know. I keep justifying him a lot, which I'm learning it's something I shouldn't do."

He makes his cheek comfortable on top of her head, then takes one hand to play with her hair, scratching her scalp. "It can't be easy to go through something like this on your own, tho."

"I know…" She closes her eyes, appreciating his affectionate touch. "My mum's helping me a lot… She had to go back home now, but she spent over a month with me. Makes sure I don't skip therapy… Stuff like that."

"Hmm…" Harry says, and his voice echoes inside her body. "Always liked her. Smart one."

Aurora curls her mouth up. "Yeah…"

Another moment goes by, and Aurora is filled with lightness as her body slowly drifts into sleep.

"Thank you for telling me this, Auri."

"Mhmm… It's weird… To like, talk about it."

"I'll always listen. Whenever you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

"Thank you… 'M really tired, tho... And I think my brain is going to explode…"

Harry chuckles. "Get some sleep, yeah? I'll wake you up when we're about to land."

"'Mkay." She hugs his waist, and nuzzles against his chest. "Can't believe this all happened and we didn't even leave the country yet."

"Tell me about it."

"Mm… 'Kay… I'll sleep now… You're comfy… And I think… I feel drunk…"

Chuckling again, Harry presses a kiss on the top of her head, then slides down a bit on his seat, and she cuddles a little bit more into him.

"Ok love," he says. "You can relax now, I got you."

And although Aurora doesn't answer, she knows he does.

She doesn't need Harry to wake her up.

Her brain drifts back to consciousness by itself, slowly making her aware of her surroundings way before the plane is even close to landing.

She's warm, because of Harry's arms wrapped around her shoulders, but also because of his jacket covering her body. Her face is pressed against his shirt, and once again she's breathing from his skin. He still smells good — like a fresh shower — but now it's also mixed with a little bit of sweat, so it's somehow even better than before.

It's hot. He's hot. Her insides feel hot.

She's also comfortable — so, so comfortable. It feels like she just took the best nap of her entire life. Like she's enveloped by a sense of calm and peace, a feeling that she doesn't want at all to end. Snuggled into his chest while his fingers keep playing with her hair, tracing random patterns on the back of her head. The movements are sweet, sweet enough to tempt her to go back to sleep. And she almost does.

Except she can't. Not anymore.

Because above all that, she can tell she's also kind of desperate. Clingy. Needy. Hugging his waist as if their flight landing in Italy depended on how tight her grip is. Both of her legs over his left thigh. His strong, firm thigh. She's holding onto him like a baby koala. A troubled one. A baby koala that's craving to be held by someone. Anyone. And as if she's terrified of the idea of being left behind while her mind shuts off from the real world.

And maybe she is. Who knows.

She always liked to cuddle, and she hasn't properly cuddled in a really long time, so it's not a surprise. Still, it very quickly becomes embarrassing, and certainly not how Harry imagined things to go when, earlier in the airport, he offered his shoulder for her to take a quick nap.

He offered his shoulder, not his entire body, for fucks sake!

So, against all wishes, Aurora stirs and groans — mostly because her mind is battling between sleeping for just two more minutes or acknowledging the reality of the world she's in — then pulls away from him.

"Hmm…" She takes her hands up to her face, and rubs the last traces of sleepiness away from her puffy eyes, then sits back on her seat. "What time is it?"

Next to her, Harry moves as well, withdrawing his arms from around her shoulders and placing his hands on his lap.

"Must be around ten thirty now… Last time I checked was ten fifteen."

He sounds calm, so calm that she can't make any emotion out of his voice, so she turns her head to look at him.

Harry looks fully awake. Well rested. Peaceful. Soft. The only sign of him turning into her personal pillow are the wrinkles all over his shirt, but everything else looks… Perfect. Like heaven. He looks like heaven.

"Hi…" He curls one side of his mouth up, and Aurora smiles, too.

"Hi…"

Only then it occurs to her that she's been staring at him, and she looks away, taking her hands to smooth out her hair then fix her dress.

"Did you sleep well?"

She nods, and takes his jacket off, instead using it like a blanket to cover her chest.

"Um, yeah… I did. Thanks. And thanks for… You know… Letting me crush on you? I mean, it probably wasn't comfortable for you, so… Yeah, thanks."

Harry scoffs, shuffling down on his seat and spreading his legs as wide open as he can.

"Are you kidding me?" He takes both arms up and places his hands behind his head, resting on top of the palm of his hands. "You're a great cuddler. Went straight to my top five of all time."

The playfulness is clear in his words, which is why Aurora chuckles. Still, one question is loud and clear inside her mind: who are the other four great cuddlers? And most importantly, why isn't she his favorite one?

The thoughts bring an uncomfortable feeling to her stomach, and she shifts on her seat.

"That's kind of you to say, but you should see me during winter in the middle of the night… I'm like a baby koala and it's not a very pretty sight."

"Huh." He smirks, and lifts his eyebrows. "Is that an offer?"

Aurora snorts and rolls her eyes, feeling her cheeks burn before she looks away. "Shut up."

Harry laughs, and just like that, everything between them goes back to normal.

Getting into conversation with him is easy. Neither of them have seen their friends in a while, so they distract themselves by reminiscing old stories and laughing at silly things they used to do together. They also talk about Italy, about how neither of them have been to the country before, and how it's been a dream of both of them. They bond over small details, and find connections over silly things. And it's exactly what Aurora needs, as she finds out after minutes and minutes of light conversation and genuine giggles.

It is only when they're about to land that her face falls again.

Fully awake, the airplane movements become way more obvious than they did when taking off. And as soon as the belt sign goes on, and the pilot announces they're about to descend to Naples, Aurora's heartbeat speeds up.

She straightens up and leans her back fully against her seat, looking through the window at the bright sky.

"Are you ok?" Harry asks.

"Mhm…" She nods, and doesn't take her eyes off from the view. "Just… I don't like this part very much, that's all."

"Wanna hold my hand?"

It is a nice offer, but one she doesn't think she should accept. So she doesn't. And as the plane gets closer and closer to land, every movement becomes even more clear. When it shakes, when it turns, when it's getting ready to touch the ground.

She holds herself until the last minute. She holds herself tightly and firmly. Until it becomes too much, and one specific up and down of the airplane has her reaching for his hand.

It's like Harry is already waiting for her, to be honest, because she finds him quickly. Her sweaty and cold palm meets his warm one, and she turns her head to look at him.

He's already watching her, and as soon as their eyes meet, his face lights up with a smile.

Her belly quivers, and her chest tightens.

"It'll be over in a minute," he says, squeezing her hand.

She nods, and swallows down, because it's the only thing she can do right now. She knows what he's talking about, and she knows it's true — they'll land, and everything will pass.

Although something tells her that, whatever she's feeling right now, will not go away. It won't be over in a minute. It won't be over even when they're out and away from the plane.

In fact, she's starting to believe that, as soon as Harry is next to her, looking at her like that, the fluttering in her stomach will never go away.

if you've made it here, say caramel coffee :')

also, thank you for reading.

dani :)

PART THREE

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles au

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babyjakes · 4 months

Text

did something bad.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompts | interrogation + weapon play

pairing | soft!daddy!lloyd hansen x little!reader

warnings | ddlg dynamic. lloyd is soft and a little dark; dub-con to be safe (reader is scared but knows she's safe.) restraints. reader gets fucked with lloyd's unloaded gun as a punishment (+ me knowing nothing about guns.) crying kink. dumbification. mocking/degredation. name-calling (reader is called a slut once.) orgasm delay. softer nicer lloyd at the end. reader gets to come.

word count | 1,333

an | this one's dedicated to the sweetest, most wonderful angel in the whole entire world, lloyd's precious girl amalia @stargirlfics 💕🫶✨ hope you like this little story with a soft dark-ish lloyd, i think you replied to that one post a while back where i dreamt of lloyd + gun fucking with a rather unhinged ending, this is to hopefully make up for that!! happy holidays to you sweet friend, hope you're staying safe and warm!

Writhing as your back arched up off of the smooth wooden surface you were bound to, your weak whimpers were sweet music to your daddy's ears. The mustached man stood just off to the side of the desk, finishing up as he wiped the shiny barrel of his favorite revolver clean. "D-Daddy, please! I'm sorry- I'll never do it again," you implored, but Lloyd only chuckled cruelly at your desperate promises, shaking his head.

"Too late, princess. You know Daddy loves to hear you beg, but none of those pretty pleas are gonna work for you this time." He stepped forward to stand at your side, a firm hand reaching down to grope at your tit. It had been a while since he had last stripped you naked and tied you down on his desk; hoping to prolong your anxious waiting, he took a moment to admire his knotwork work. "So cute when you're all tied up like this, kitten. Maybe you need to break the big rules more often."

You struggled uselessly as your nipple was twisted and tugged at, tears stinging in your eyes as your daddy leaned down slightly to croon at you, "Poor baby, look at those big, frightened eyes. You gonna cry for me already, sweetheart? I haven't even started yet." Placing the dreaded weapon he was wielding down near your waist, he used his now free hand to trail down, feeling at your parted slit gently. "Oh my," his voice dropped lower as his fingers were quickly covered in your sticky slick, "looks like someone's getting excited. Is that out of fear, little one? Or is that poor little baby brain of yours getting turned on by Daddy punishing you like this?"

Hot tears of humiliation rolled down your cheeks as you glared up at the towering man. "Aww, don't go all pouty on me," he laughed lightly at the precious face you were making. "If you're good and tell me what I want to know, I promise I'll make sure you like this."

All you could do was watch with frightened eyes as the tall man got to prepping his instrument of choice for your punishment. Retrieving a small bottle of lube from one of his desk drawers, he coated the barrel of the handgun generously, making sure the long pipe of metal would slide in without issue. While the use of the device was meant to teach you a lesson, its goal was to deal you an emotional punishment, not a physical one. The gun was unloaded in front of you beforehand, and the sights were removed to prevent any catching or discomfort. More than anything, it was merely the concept of being fucked with the gun that you found so horrific.

"You're gonna look so pretty all stretched out on this," Lloyd marveled as he held up the weapon to show you before bringing it down to press its opening up against yours. The man grinned in delight as you kicked and fought helplessly against the ropes holding your legs apart, savoring the way your little voice sounded when you were all needy and scared like this.

"Please, p-please Daddy!" you cried, your tears worsening as you felt the cool metal gliding up inside you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you gave in and quit squirming as the revolver was inserted to its handle, twisting and turning cruelly within you as your daddy took his time and played.

"There," he hummed in satisfaction when he finally settled on a position, keeping the hilt sticking upward as he gently began pumping the slippery barrel in and out of your poor little pussy. It was nothing short of sinful, the way you immediately began moaning softly, the queasy fear in your tummy quickly shifting to unapologetic lust as your hips started bucking up to meet your daddy's efforts.

"Such a greedy little slut," Lloyd chuckled as he watched you ramming yourself right up onto the dripping weapon. "Look at you, getting so horny for Daddy's gun. That's it, princess. Keep fucking yourself on it, just like that." He helped you along by returning his free hand to your hardened nipples, pinching and pulling at the poor knots of flesh as burning tingles fanned out across your entire body.

"Daddy, D-Daddy-" you mumbled weakly, your eyes half-closed in bliss as the smooth tip of the revolver bumped right up against your tender ceiling. "Please, d-don't stop... gonna, g-gonna..." Maybe it was the sheer depravity of the situation, or maybe it was Lloyd's skillful fingers working your oversensitive nipples, but something was helping you along to a rather early high as you lay there panting on the desk. Seeing the way your body was starting to give its usual signs of approaching orgasm, your daddy slowed the pace of the gun inside you as he brought his other hand up to cup your cheek.

"Now baby," he tsked, rubbing his thumb tenderly over your tear-stained cheek as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Daddy, p-please! Need, n-need-... nnn..."

"Shhhh," Lloyd cooed, bringing his thumb to rest firmly over your salty lips as a signal to be quiet and listen. "Daddy knows, kitten. Know how bad you need to come," he nodded understandingly, the concern and mock sympathy on his face only causing your tears to worsen, as you knew the ways of his cruel acts and games. "But you're forgetting something, sweet girl- something very important. Remember that Daddy had a question for you?" Sobbing lightly against your daddy's thumb, you nodded weakly. "That's right, baby. Daddy needs to know what you were doing in the armory, right? Because weren't you found in there by one of his guards, up way past your bedtime?"

He let you nod, giving you a soft hum of approval as the gun was pumped at a torturously slow pace, in and out of your quivering cunt. "Now I'm gonna take my hand away, and I want you to answer. Do you understand, little one?"

Batting your eyelashes, you nodded as obediently as you could, earning a slight nod from the man as he did as he promised and released your face, allowing your lips to finally open. "W-was lookin' for a knife, Daddy. One of those shiny ones, with the fancy blades."

Lloyd considered your answer, quirking an eyebrow as he bumped his pace up with the revolver just a hair. "A knife? Now what on earth would you need a knife for, my little princess? Those are very dangerous; you know Daddy doesn't let you touch knives, not even the ones in the kitchen."

"Just wanted to play with one," you mumbled honestly, fearing how lame your answer might come across. "Saw a super spy on TV, she had a cool-lookin' one. Wanted to dress up and play around the castle." Lloyd couldn't help but melt a bit at your answer. Of all the things he thought you might be doing in there, finding a prop for a play-pretend game certainly made sense for your harmless, innocent nature.

"A super spy, huh?" he nodded, finally working back up to his original speed as he resumed fucking you generously with the weapon in his hand. "I see. Thank you for telling me the truth, sweetheart. No big girl knives for you, but we can find you a fake one to play with. Deal?"

"D-deal," your voice was shaky as your punishment seemed to come to its close. You had been so good, taken everything without too much of a struggle, and now it was time for your daddy to reward you. "D-Daddy," you hiccuped as the pressure in your tummy began quickly building up again, but Lloyd was already one step ahead of you.

"Go ahead, princess. You can come; you earned it," he cooed lovingly as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, cradling the back of your neck with his free hand as you finally found your release.

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yandere-kokeshi · 1 year

Text

Yandere König with gn darling who speaks German

Warnings: yandere behavior and slight nsfw.

A/N: Got this idea randomly from my bestie @yandere-heaven <33. Check out her art, it's pretty neat and cool :]!

When he heard you speak back to his sentence, his mind went completely blank as he snapped his head back unto your direction, yelling out in German: "Du sprichst Deutsch‽" (You speak German‽)

When you nodded, he blinked. Twice. Thrice. Many more times before smiling hugely under his mask, grabbing you into a bear hug as he asks you many questions about how long you've known.

König is surprised but really excited. He's hyped that he can talk to you with his tongue without making sure nobody else hears him what he says to you.

Although, he's a bit flustered! Some of the things he has said behind you, or under his breath make him sweat.

What if you heard what he said in the past? The few naughty and nice ones? Did you know about his feelings beforehand? Do you now think he's weird?

However, the minute you comfort him with a few words of that you still like him, he's relieved.

Nevertheless, be ready for him to always be talking to you in German. Practically swooning all over you again.

König will often compliment you in German; watching you smile before replying, "Danke! Ich liebe dich auch," (Thanks! I love you too!). This not only makes him feel flustered but feel more closer to you than ever before.

He's more open to telling you things, especially when he sees drama/or trouble. In the grocery stores or the public, he will tell you things in German, growling under his breath that the man in front of you two is rude and that he should 'accidentally' trip.

Both of you will spend hours upon hours speaking with each other. While he will ask how/when you learned it, he's a bit sad that you didn't immediately tell him.

Expect him to ask about your home life; if your parents had taught it, or you had learned it by yourself after meeting him. If you only know a few words, he's still surprised! He's more than willing to help teach you.

The team shakes their heads and looks at each other dumbfounded as they watch you two speak in German.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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flowerandblood · 1 year

Text

A Winter Beauty (18)

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark reader]

[warnings: sex content, smut, domination kink, swearing, angst]

[description: Aemond and his family arrive at Winterfell for Rickon Stark's Name Day. There, Aemond meets his daughter, who arouses his desire. I changed some names and facts for the sake of the plot. Viserys is also slightly younger in this version.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next parts: Masterlist

_____

After what had happened between them last night, Aemond had been staring at her with a slightly malicious grin all morning, at which she had only pursed her lips in satisfaction. They both knew that what had happened between them was very much enjoyed and that they had to do it again.

Lady Stark was a little apprehensive about what it would be like and if she could handle it. If she would be uncomfortable with his manhood in her mouth. After she came on her own fingers, unable to resist the lust, her doubts vanished.

Aemond was so delighted and aroused, that immediately after he cum in her mouth, he knelt between her thighs himself, reverently licking everything that was leaking from her.

He brought her to fulfillment once more, caressing her with his tongue with reverence, and he was sure that Alys Rivers could hear his wife moans even from the other side of the castle.

They ate breakfast in fantastic moods, casting amused and ambiguous glances at each other. Aemond watched intently as she licked her fingers lingeringly after each bite, glancing at him once in a while out of the corner of her eye.

He considered making her kneel before him again before they left. Reluctantly, he gave up the idea, knowing that he was about to meet Lord Strong, for which he could not be late.

While Aemond left for the prearranged council, Y/N returned to her chamber to change. Alys was waiting for her there and bowed as soon as she entered.

"My Lady." She said in a calm, pleasant voice. Y/N nodded her head but didn't say anything. She wanted to smile, but held back, walking to her dresses, which were already waiting for her to choose what to wear. She decided that this time she would choose a more ornate cut, also off-shoulder, decorated by herself with hand-tangled grape leaves.

Alys was lacing the corset of her dress when she spoke suddenly.

"I see you are in a wonderful mood today, my Lady." She said gently. Lady Stark's lips twitched into a smile. As much as she loved talking and chatting up her maids at Red Keep, it was frustrating for her that Alys speak to her first. She knew it was disrespectful.

She decided not to answer, looking calmly at her reflection in the mirror. She was surprised to hear Alys continue.

“But I heard that the prince, returning from the feast, came with a woman to her chamber. One of the maids said she heard disturbing noises from there."

Lady Stark pursed her lips, feeling her whole body tense. She thought she had never met a more brazen human being before. She smiled, her gaze changed, she saw in her reflection that indeed, she looked as if a demon had possessed her. She wondered if this was what she looked like when Aemond fucked her in the chapel.

"You can rest assured that these are just rumors. I would know the taste of another woman in my mouth."

***

What Alys had said unnerved her, but the look on her face after what she had answered she would remember forever. She had never felt so satisfied in her life.

She left her chamber only for the afternoon feast, she had read a book beforehand. She didn't want to accidentally run into this woman again. She couldn't stop thinking about what she had told her, and even though she knew it was a lie, the thought of her husband with another woman drove her crazy.

When it was time for her to come down to the feast, Lord Strong and her husband were already sitting at the table, talking about something.

His face was stone, but as soon as he caught sight of her, his eye lit up, his mouth curved into a lazy, menacing smile. Unable to keep her mouth from doing the same, she felt her heart pound, the muscles between her thighs clenching around nothing.

She sat next to him and he immediately took her hand and kissed it.

"Skorkydoso iksin aōha tubis, ñuha ābrazȳrys? (How was your day, my wife?)” He asked lightly, an ironic smile never leaving his face. Lady Stark looked at him.

"Se ābra kessa daor henujagon nyke mērī. (The woman will not leave me alone.)” She said resentfully, as if what the witch was doing to her was his fault. Aemond frowned. Lord Strong watched them curiously.

"Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma? (What do you mean?)" He asked, there was a note of threat in his voice, but not directed at her. Y/N pursed her lips, gripping his hand tighter.

“Ziry ivestretan nyke, bona ēdas kirimves lēda ao. (She told me that she had had fun with you.)" She said, looking at her empty plate. Aemond stared at her intently and turned his head away, snorting impatiently.

"Encore doru-borto rene. Ziry iksos daor drēje. (This stupid slut. It's not true.)” He said enraged, his jaw clenching dangerously. He was holding her hand, but now he was looking at the woman in red as if he wanted to kill her.

"Nyke gimigon. Nyke ivestretan zirȳla kesan gīmigon se sylutegon hen tolie ābra isse ñuha relgos. (I know. I told her I would know the taste of another woman in my mouth.).” She said, unable to suppress a satisfied smile.

Aemond laughed loudly, to the surprise of several at the table, and shook his head in disbelief. Lady Stark had never seen him laugh so much. He looked at her with a mixture of amusement, lust and admiration.

„Se Targārien perzys zālagon iemnȳ ao, ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys. (The Targaryen fire burn within you, my sweet wife.)” He said and kissed her hand again, looking straight into her eyes.

Her jealousy caressed his ego wonderfully. He would never think of cheating, mostly because he didn't need or want the closeness of another woman. He believed that they were made for each other, their flames merging into one great heat that melted everything that stood in their way.

Looking at her now, he realized that was why she had caught his attention in Winterfell in the first place. Of course, she immediately aroused his desires, but what kept him in thinking about her was her behavior. She didn't sit like any decent lady with her eyes downcast in shame, glancing at him surreptitiously, looking for any opportunity to talk to the prince.

From the beginning he noticed that she was happy, that she was not afraid of anything and anyone, that the presence of him and his royal family did not impress her, because there was nothing in them that she needed. She was happy in Winterfell, she loved every moment of her life there. She was confident but not rude or dry, she radiated a warmth and a heat that attracted him.

Her touch and her words burned his body and soul, scarring him, making him unable to forget her. He had to have her all to himself. He wanted to burn her and burn in her fire at the same time, to feel only the heat of their bodies and their hearts. Nothing gave him greater satisfaction than the thought that she felt the same way about him, that she had wanted him too from the beginning.

They were both surprised when a young man approached them. Lady Stark recognized her cousin immediately. His mother, Jeyne Arryn, and her mother, Lyanna Arryn, were sisters.

"Rodrick!" She said surprised, smiling broadly. "What a surprise! I didn't see you at the feast yesterday." Rodrick nodded.

He was a handsome, tall man, two years Cregan's senior. His hair was curled in beautiful black curls, his blue eyes shone with joy. He was wearing a blue robe of House Arryn's color, similar in shades to those she wore herself.

"My prince, my sweet cousin. It's an honor." He said, then referred to her second sentence. “I only arrived today, important matters have kept me in Vale. But I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you. Will you agree to dance with me?" He asked, avoiding her husband's opinion on the matter. Lady Stark thought it would do him good to see her dance with another man.

“Of course, cousin. With delight.” She said smiling sweetly, her eyes shining with joy. She shook his hand and they set off together to join the other couples.

They stood in front of each other and bowed. They made one turn, put their hands up, and spun around each other, holding each other's waists, staring into each other's eyes. There was something sensual about it, but Y/N knew where the boundaries were. After all, she had known Rodrick since she was a child.

“You have grown up to be a beautiful woman, cousin. I'm not surprised that the prince has lost his head for you." He said with appreciation, looking at her with narrowed eyes. They broke apart a few steps, made a movement, and clasped their hands on each other's shoulders again. Lady Stark felt his hand grip her skin more than it should.

"Thank you, cousin. You too have become a handsome and, as I feel, strong man." She said, teasing him with an amused smile. Her cousin laughed loudly.

“Your answers have always been on point, cousin. You have a fiery tongue." He said low, something in his gaze that if she didn't know him, she might have thought it was lust. She thought, however, that he would not dare to do anything in front of her husband.

"I am Targaryen's wife, cousin. I burn in his fire every day as he burns in mine." She smiled as she thought about what it meant to her. The memory of their night together flashed before her eyes.

“I heard he proposed to you after five days. You must have been very persuasive." He said with amusement, looking at her from under narrowed eyelids. His hand on another rotation caught her lower than it should have, almost touching her buttocks, and she flinched and pulled away immediately, stopping.

"What are you doing?" She asked him, frowning.

“You don't have to pretend in front of your family. The whole North knows you must have fucked him to propose to you so quickly. Could I talk to your husband, maybe he'd let me take you from behind while you sucked his cock?" He asked as if he were talking about the weather.

Lady Stark stared at him in horror, mouth gaping in disbelief, and almost screamed as she saw her husband approach her cousin from behind and put his dagger to his neck. Couples danced around them, apparently not yet seeing what was going on.

"I'd sooner cut off your dick and sew it in your mouth than let you touch my wife again." He hissed, his eye dark, his jaw clenched. Y/N saw that he was barely holding back from killing him. Aemond looked at her, and she shook her head quickly.

"Forgive me, my prince, I must have misunderstood your wife." Rodrick said, raising his hands in a gesture of vulnerability. Aemond closed his eye and squeezed it shut, boiling inside. He suddenly grabbed him by the hair and shoved him, so that the man fell to his knees.

"Beg my wife for forgiveness. On the knees." He said through clenched teeth, his voice low, dark, furious. Lord of Vale swallowed hard and pursed his lips in humiliation, but he knew he couldn't afford any further comments.

"Forgive me, my cousin. I beg you for forgiveness."

Lady Stark nodded quickly and motioned for him to get up, seeing that they had attracted attention. Aemond turned tense and headed for the exit, with Y/N following him. He stepped out into the hallway, the door banging open, Y/N could barely keep up with him.

"Umbagon! (Wait!)” She pleaded. “Nyke gōntan daor gīmigon skoros īles kȳvanon! ("I didn't know what he was planning!)"

Aemond stopped and turned to her, furious.

"Aōha laesi linon bē, hae ao lilagon lēda zirȳla. (Your eyes lit up, as you danced with him.)” He hissed through clenched lips.

"Gaomagon jaela zirsla? (Do you want him?)” He asked, walking over to her, his body pushing her back against the wall behind her, fury in his eye. “Jaelagon aōha gevie valītsos naejot qogralbar ao? (Want your beautiful boy to fuck you?)”

"Iksan daor iā Targārien naejot qogralbar ñuha lentor. (I'm not a Targaryen to fuck my family.)" She said just as furious as Aemond slammed his fist into the wall above her head. She jumped, startled, and they both looked at each other enraged, breathing heavily.

“Eminna aōha ēngos hen mēre tubis, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys. ("I will have your tongue out one day, dear wife.") He said menacingly and low, looking down at her.

“Gaomagon skor jaelā lēda zira. Ziry iksos aōhon sepār hae tolvie run tolie. (Do what you want with it. It's yours, just like everything else.)” She said defiantly, never taking her eyes off him.

They were both breathing heavily, his fist slid down to her cheek, his fingers grabbing her face. He wanted to kill her and fuck her at the same time.

They kissed greedily, brutally, gasping into each other's mouths, their tongues pressing against each other in anger, fire flowing through their bodies. They broke apart, staring at themselves with lust, breathing heavily.

"Tepagon nyke iā qilōnarion, ñuha zaldrīzes dārys ("Give me a punishment, my dragon king.")

***

Aemond made sure her hands were bound with her own handkerchief as he unbuttoned his pants. She was breathing fast as she lay in front of him on his bed, naked, excited, her hands behind her head. She felt her heart pounding, her juices running down her thighs.

Aemond's eye were black and furious, and she knew she had exaggerated. She wanted him to show her how mad he was. She knew that it wasn't about hurting her.

"Ivestragon arlī qilōni ao sytilībagon naejot. (Say again who you belong to.)" He said low as he pulled down his pants, he was hard just looking at her. Y/N swallowed loudly, her body quivering with emotion.

"To you, my husband." She whispered, looking pleadingly at him.

"Mmm. My sinful wife. Is it so hard?" He asked, his hand gently touching her wet entrance. He massaged her clit in slow, circular motions. Lady Stark opened her mouth and moaned softly, feeling the warmth spreading in her lower abdomen, turning her head to the side.

"No, my husband." She said meekly. A grimace appeared on his face that could be called a smile. He massaged her painfully slowly, her thighs moving in to meet with his fingers, but his hand gripped her skin tightly.

"No. I doubt you'll come today, my wife." He said sharply, looking at her with furrowed brows. Y/N swallowed silently, looking at him pleadingly. “Do you think you deserved your fulfillment? For your husband to fuck you the way you like?"

Y/N pursed her lips, sucking in a quiet breath.

"No, I don't deserve it."

Aemond hummed loudly in satisfaction.

"Exactly. So lie still as I'll take what's mine." He said ominously, leaning over her, one of his hands holding her bound hands up, the other holding his weight of his body on the elbow. Lady Stark spread her thighs in front of him, and he made a sound of satisfaction.

"That's right, sweet wife. Just like that." He said and entered her slowly, filling her to the brim. He slid out of her and slid in again, deeper than before, and she moaned softly in pleasure, staring at him with her mouth slightly parted.

"Feeling good? Feeling good with your husband's cock inside you?" He asked, a note of tenderness in his voice. Y/N looked at him pleadingly, they both began to breathe heavily.

"Yes, gods, it feels so good" She whispered, her thighs involuntarily wanting to meet him, but he wouldn't let her.

"Take what I give you." He hissed to her ear through clenched teeth and ran his tongue along her neck. She moaned loudly, arching back, feeling like she was going to go crazy if he didn't speed up soon.

"Please, husband, harder, fuck me the way you like it" She sputtered, breathing fast, her body literally burning with desire beneath him. Aemond licked his lips at the words, clearly pleased with the state he had put her in.

His thighs sped up slightly, his cock rubbed once in a while against the place that gave her the greatest pleasure, and she moaned helplessly, coming out to meet him.

"Are you sure? You don't want to be fucked by your sweet cousin?" He asked with a menacing grin, his cock moving back and forth inside her in a calm, steady rhythm. Y/N moaned helplessly, on the verge of despair.

"I don't give a shit about him, for God's sake, fuck me!" She moaned loudly. He grinned in amusement and thrust inside her hard, fucking her, thrusting with all his strenght until she felt like he was going to pierce her through.

They were both moaning loudly and panting, seeking their fulfillment. Her hot, went core pressed against him, wanting to hold him in, pulling him inside.

"Do you want to come? Do you want me to let you come, my sinful wife?" He asked through gritted teeth, she could see that he was already close.

"Yes, yes, I beg you, please" She whispered and moaned loudly as his hand released her wrists and went down low to her clit, massaging it where she needed it, her thighs pressing greedily against him. His cock was fucking her hard, rough and fast, his hips hitting her thighs with a wet slap every time.

"Gods, Aemond, yes, yes, yes" She moaned like a mantra, her body arching as she came. She moaned lingeringly and flinched as she felt him cum inside her, his low, guttural moan answering her in despair.

Both of them were still moving involuntarily, looking at each other with tenderness. Aemond leaned over her and kissed her, untying her hands. Y/N hugged him tight and they sucked each other lips, panting into each other's mouths. Aemond pulled away from her mouth with a wet sound.

"Ñuhon (Mine)."

_____

If you want to be tagged in the next parts, let me know. ~

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @namoreno @dreamlandcreations @darkenchantress @moira-strangle-me-please @yentroucnagol @cloudroomblog @thehumanistsdiary @a-beaverhausen @avadakadabra93 @sirenangelroyal @aonungs-tsahik @xmaiaaa @writingaboutlove1998

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stvckwithaphobia · 1 year

Text

— PUNISHMENT [bang chan] 💵

content/warning. bang chan x female reader — securityguard!chan + shoplifter!reader — smut/pwp — dom/sub dynamics — rough sex — unprotected penetrative sex (don’t do this) — implied oral (m receiving) — sir kink — reader gets called slut, babygirl, good girl

word count. 1.0k

note. this is a reupload of my own post published on 22/10/02 on this blog — thank you so much for 100 followers and the generous feedback on my last post?? would have never expected it to gain so much success — I hope you will enjoy this one in case you come across this :)

important. minors do not interact, this is 18+ content — none of the characters are supposed to imitate real people, any coincidences with names and places are just for the sake of fiction — if you enjoy this content pls consider leaving a comment or reblogging this!

—

It’s all wrong. All a big fucking stupid idea and you know it. Still, you can’t help it. Almost magically, the pair of glimmery shining earrings land inside your purse. You make sure no one notices.

But you don’t make sure of it enough.

Getting behind the barrier of the exit of the store is one thing—you’ve managed that part just fine.

Whereas leaving without the security guard witnessing the guilt hiding in your face is another level of obscurity.

“Ms, could I have a look inside your purse please?”

His voice startles you, quite loud but also not loud enough for the other customers to notice.

“W-Why do you need to do that?”

He takes two steps towards you, looking right into your face and getting aware of the anxiety plastered all over it. The name on his uniform reads ‘Christopher Bang’.

“Ms, I’ve seen you put some jewelry inside your bag. You can either open the purse now or follow me to the back room and we’ll discuss it there until the police officer arrives.”

You gulp. The big lump of saliva that has built up in your throat slides down—with the last piece of hope. But you won’t give up. You can’t. You’re deeply fucked. This is a whole shitshow and you’re the protagonist.

“No,” you simply say.

“Preferring the hard way? Alright, then please follow me.”

What are your options anyway? You’ve decided to choose the less embarrassing one, after all he would have caught you anyway. You're guilty. You're guilty and he knows it. You know it, too. A fucking bad job in hiding it is what you’re doing.

Only a small desk lamp enlightens the cramped room, a table is placed in the middle with a folding chair in front of it. Your breath hitches once you realise he’s standing right behind you, carefully tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. So it’s easier to whisper to you.

“I’ll give you an option here. Like a chance of redemption if you wanna call it that.”

You swallow again. His heavy breathing is drowned out by your heartbeat pulsating up into your ears. It’s deafening.

“W-What is that?”

The security guard’s big hand lands on your front upper thigh. Roughly he squeezes the flesh through the thick material of your jeans but you don’t deny any of his actions—it’s rather the opposite. The anticipation is killing you and you’re striving for more.

“You can seek your punishment here, with me, and I’ll forget about what you did earlier.”

The idea shoots a tingling sensation straight down to your core. You’re helpless. You’re defeated. But you’re eager for what’s yet to come.

“Okay.”

Chris is surprised about you agreeing so quickly but he doesn’t mind at all. His hot breath still lingers on your skin, goosebumps erupt all over it.

“We’re gonna establish some rules beforehand. First of all, watch your manners and the way you address me.”

Whilst the words echo into your ears and you need some time to realise what he’s saying, Chris is already busy fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. He opens them one by one so the cold air can slowly hit your hot skin underneath.

“Okay, sir.”

The black fabric lands on the floor, pooling on the ground all pathetically just like the remaining bits of your pride. With one swift motion he gets rid of your bralette, as it’s being thrown down as well. Your tits now on full display he grabs them roughly, pinching the sensitive bud between two of his fingers.

“You’re a quick learner, I see. Good girl.” He spins you around, all suddenly, so he’s able to place you on top of the cold metal table. Then he gets closer until his lips brush your ear again. “If you want me to stop anytime, just say the word ‘red‘.”

You quickly nod, holding your breath before you reply all quietly, “Yes, sir.”

And that’s how you find yourself—merely a few moments later—being pushed onto the cold table, face first meeting the wooden material. Your makeup is smudged and ruined by now but your looks are the last thing you care about.

Chris is the master of his element, the way he’s thrusting his big cock in and out your tight walls drives you to oblivion. His movements are sharp but steady, his hands grab your hip and neck to keep you in place just like he enjoys.

“Naughty slut deserves to be punished for doing something so wrong,” he whispers into your ear once he lowers his weight onto you.

“You shouldn’t have let me catch you, baby, that’s what you get for it.”

You arch your back and want to answer. But with the way he brushes that certain spot inside you, the realization hits you—you’re not capable of taking any control and you don’t want to.

“Say it, babygirl, confess about what you did and I’ll let you cum, hm? How does that sound? I know you’re close, no need to try to fool me.”

Slap. His hand collides with your ass—one of Chris’s attempts to bring you back to the present again.

“Okay—yes, sir, I did s-steal those earrings. I am d-deeply s-sorry. Please, I’ll do w-whatever you want—just l-let me cum already,” you stutter as your eyes meet the back of your head in satisfaction.

“Then go on, be a good girl and show me that you’re able to follow my rules.”

So you do. Your vision gets blinded by overwhelmness and glittery stars as you come undone, creaming all over his cock. Chris lets you ride out your high whilst your cunt keeps clenching around him, almost triggering his own climax.

Once he’s made sure you’ve somehow calmed down a bit, he pulls out of you—mixtures of your liquids and his precum splashing onto the floor and slowly running down your inner thighs.

“You said you’ll do anything, hm? Then go on your knees for me, slut. Be a good girl and suck me off.”

—

🖇 taglist — @gibbysupremeacyisreal

#bang chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x you #bang chan hard thoughts

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highonmarvel · 6 months

Note

I’ve been reading a bunch of fics about Steve (kemp) and it’s so weird because I WISH he was a good guy, y’know? But it also just makes you think, what makes a person like that?

so I was wondering, what do you think would happen if reader got angry, and like drugged Steve and just turned the tables. Kept HIM locked up. But just kinda wanted to make him understand? Even if it didn’t make up for it, because reader still loves him.

maybe when he’s good he gets something…? I don’t know, tbh honest I’m terrified even asking right now.

Placate

do not be scared, shawty; i’m super friendly. and nice idea, i like this, i hope you like how this turned out, because i’m not sure if i do, but i tried my best. let me know what you think! and i apologise for the long wait.

Steve Kemp: You need to take a page out of Steve’s book to get him to understand. 18+!

TAGS

@sojuxxi

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avengersassemble123 · 1 year

Text

||CHAPTER 3||

NOTE: DARK CONTENT, CONTAINS VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF BLOOD, MENTION OF BULLYING, MENTIONS OF BEING HELD CAPTIVE, BASED ON THE SERIES: ALL OF US ARE DEAD, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK (WARNINGS ARE GIVEN BEFOREHAND THE PART SO YOU CAN SKIP IT AND CONTINUE READING FORWARD)

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Asami's class was assigned the cleaning duty for the evening. She was supposed to be cleaning the third floor corridor with two of her classmates.

It was around 5 in the evening. She was almost finished with cleaning her assigned place. Her gaze fell on the sign, saying Science lab. The students of the school were often told to not enter the science lab until permission given. Since then she had set up a goal to break the rule and enter the science lab. Since nobody was around and her cleaning partners had already left, she entered the lab.

The lab had dull lights lightening the room. Skeleton models were hanging around and many lab instruments were placed on the shelves. Piles of books were stacked over each other on the tables.

She moved further inside the lab, when she spotted a cage. She walked closer towards it when she saw a white rat looking up at her. Asami sat kneeled in front of the cage and cooed at the rat, who was still staring at her intently.

"Well aren't you a cute thing?" Asami cooed and lifted her hand, extending it towards the cage. She tried to squeeze her little finger through the gap of the cage, trying to pet the rat. "Whose a cutie huh? Who's a cutie- Ah-" Asami drew back her bitten finger towards her, seeing blood oozing out of it. "Well now you sure ain't one you little shit."

Haruto had walked in the lab, when he heard a noise deeper in the room. He sprinted towards the noise and saw Asami sitting near the rat cage, with a bleeding finger. Asami looked guilty when she saw her sensei standing in front of her, but her guilt had turn into confused and fear, when the next second, her sensei had an injection injected to her neck. She collapsed to the ground, trying to make sense of what was going on, but the voices around her turned distorted while her vision turned more blurry by the second. The last thing she could see was her sensei holding the now empty injection but mumbling something under his breath.

---

**BLOOD WARNING**

Three days had passed. Asami was tied and binded to a rod. Her face was bloodied. Blood ran down her nose and eyes. Her mouth was sealed shut by a tape. Asami's body wrangled an struggled inhumanly while growls were released from her now sealed mouth. Haruto walked towards her again injecting her, this time her hand, when Asami mumbled something. Haruto leaned closer towards her, when he heard her mumble, "Please don't kill me"

"Don't kill you?" Haruto replied back.

**WARNING ENDED**

"Don't keep any hope....

That's not what you had to say or listened to, when you were among the ones bullying my son."

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[FEW DAYS LATER]

"The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven. Upon the place beneath. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

"So is anyone ready to translate this for me?" Ms.Ren, English teacher asked Class 3B.

After a few moments of silence, a hand was raised.

"Yes Makomo."

"It means that the quality of mercy is not strained. It drops on to the world as the gentle rain does from heaven. It's doubly blessed that is, it blesses both the giver and the receiver."

"And who is saying this and to whom?"

"Portia disguised as a lawyer is saying this to Shylock"

"Good job Makomo, you can sit down"

"Thank you, sensei"

The pale skinned black haired girl sat down after saying her answer. "Damn Makomo i could really use your notes" Sabito, her bench partner, whispered. "It's not even that hard to be honest plus you can also get your notes from Giyuu too, who is literally sitting in this class, not to mention in front of you and literally lives in the same house as you, considering he' your adoptive brother.." Makomo said, pointing slightly towards the black head sitting on the bench in front of them, with a purple haired butterfly clipped girl, who was poking him with her pencil, but the black head ignoring her. Sabito scoffed, "Easy for the English topper to say, and in my defense as much as i love him as my brother, but that guy can't even write in a good or at least a proper handwriting even to save himself. " which made Makomo chuckle softly.

Ms.Ren heard some snickers and her gaze fell on the source of the giggles.

"Tengen, would you mind repeating what Makomo said."

Tengen, Kyojuro and Sanemi were busy giggling , or more like Tengen cracking jokes from behind while Kyojuro ushering him to stop but letting out some giggles due to the jokes, and Sanemi threatening the both of them to 'shut the hell up', making the pink haired girl in front of them also slightly giggle, while her bench partner, who was known for having snake merchandises, slightly glared at them. Tengen's name was called out, making him stand and answer Ms. Ren.

"Sorry sensei could you repeat the question?"

"I said could you repeat or say what's your opinion on Makomo's answer"

"Oh uhh i agree with whatever Makomo said."

The class erupted into giggles, while Ren had a slight smile on her face.

"Oh is that so? Then would you mind repeating the answer?"

Tengen kicked Kyojuro's and Sanemi's legs under the table, ushering them to help him but Kyojuro lifted his eyebrows, trying to keep his laughter in, while Sanemi smirked at his fellow white haired male.

"Tengen rolled his eyes at him, mumbling something about, 'I'll steal both of these assholes bento in the lunch' and stuttered, "Uuuhhh welll so the quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heav-"

"Don't repeat the quote Uzui, repeat the answer." This time the whole class erupted into laughter making even Ren chuckle a bit, while Tengen rubbing his neck sheepishly but still smiling. "Alright sit down but this time pay attention will you?" "Yes sensei" Tengen, then sat down but not before hitting Kyojuro on the head, making the flame haired boy laugh.

Ren then proceeded to continue when suddenly a hand banged on the classroom's door making everyone in the class flinch.

The door opened slowly to reveal a bloodied Asami.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

ALRIIIGHT SO THIRD CHAPTER ALSO DONE. YES I KNOW I'M MAKING SHORT CHAPTERS BUT I'M MAKING IT ACCORDING TO THE WAY I FEEL A CHAPTER SHOULD END. BUT IN THE END I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE ENJOYING THE STORY SO FAR. DON'T BE SHY TO LEAVE COMMENTS AND REPLIES. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM APPRECIATED!!!

OH AND BTW...I THINK YOU ALL ARE GOING TO START PANICKING AND CRYING FROM THE NEXT CHAPTER BAHAHAHAHA

OK BYEEEE ;)

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opalesense · 3 years

Note

oh my god Your 'a sight to behold' work was mhmfmmsmamzx, i love it. im sosososoossosoo curious as to what graphic details you have in mind 😏

lose control

zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya & f!reader (NSFW)

3.5k words • ~22 min. read

summary: a part two to this where the boys are unable to fight their urges when they see you helplessly stuck in a wall.

warnings: slight dubcon, choking, cunnilingus, facefucking, a bit of zhongli favoritism oops!

notes: omg hehehe thank youu i’m so glad you liked it <3 i wrote it at 2AM and was so surprised it turned out decently well for my fuzzy brain HAHA anyway as for the graphic details... i only left them out originally because i wasn’t sure if anon wanted straight up full nsfw or not >////< but since you asked you shall receive... <3

zhongli

Zhongli effortlessly took the rocks off of you, waiting and watching your slight movements for a few moments before your eyes finally fluttered open. A throbbing pain in your temple sent one of your hands to gently massage it, making you wince quietly in pain. “Zhongli...”

“This is the result of carelessness and insufficient planning,” he crossed his arms and studied your curves as he calmly scolded you. “Next time, let me take the lead.”

As you laid there massaging your head, his eyes traced up and down your body, fixating on the way your legs were helplessly spread in front of him, parted in such a way that he knew he would fit perfectly if he sat between them. Following that train of thought, he uncrossed his arms and slowly climbed on the bed of rocks, letting his body hover over you and supporting his weight with a hand planted above your head.

His free hand crept up your shirt, pulling it up in the process. The way he suddenly exposed your torso made you gasp and simultaneously wince again from the sudden movements. You weakly placed a hand on his forearm, initially in instinctual protest but then relaxing as you knew this was not just some stranger from the outside, but a man you trusted. “Z-Zhongli, what are you-“

“Checking for injuries, of course,” he lied with a coy smile which made you softly giggle. His hand slowly caressed your bare hips and waist, noticing the way your skin formed goosebumps at his touch. You watched as his gloved fingers hovered over your bruises and scrapes, making their way up your torso then finally pulling your bra up to reveal your breasts. You swore you could hear the hunger in his low growl as his eyes were desperately fixated on your half naked body.

“Zhongli, at least take me home first–“ you attempted to speak up but he interrupted you by wrapping his hand around your throat, applying pressure while his knee wedged itself in the empty spot between your legs. As you choked, you finally got a good look at his face. The amicable yet stoic expression Zhongli usually had was replaced with something more sinister, more lustful. With heavily breaths and shaky hands, you could sense he was getting needier by the second.

“Right now?” you managed to whisper as you stared into his glowing amber eyes. Unable to form coherent words now, all he could do was press his forehead against yours and let his lips quiver as he fought the thoughts that flooded his mind. He knew he shouldn’t do this. He knew he should help you get home and ensure that your wellbeing is secured. A war raged on inside his head, the logical side of him trying to fight his urges, but he knew he couldn’t uphold this for long. His body couldn’t help but latch onto yours, grinding against you in desperation. You two didn’t need to say much to each other to know when Zhongli was craving you like this. Looking down at his knee slowly rubbing against you, you already knew what was going to happen. From the sight of you so vulnerable under him, your legs spread out in a perfect position for him to take you, all he wanted to do in this moment was chase his release. And yes, he needed to do it now.

You tilted your chin up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips, slightly catching him off guard. He let go of your throat as he gave you another short kiss back, letting out what sounded like a whimper once he pulled his face away. You sighed contently as you glanced down at his growing bulge. “Well, make it quick, okay? Then we can continue this at home–“

Immediately after hearing your approval, Zhongli wasted no time to lean down and wrap his lips on one of your nipples, immediately biting and sucking, causing you to arch your back and gasp at the sensation. He simultaneously freed his already hardened cock from his pants, slowly pumping it with his hand and letting out a low groan, sending vibrations to your nipple. You whimpered in pleasure, instinctively trying to pin your knees together in an attempt at modesty which only squeezed him closer to you.

He let go of your nipple and lifted himself up, now standing in front of you and slowly pumping his cock as he looked down at the sight of your lewd position. “Please tell me if this is too much,” he managed to tell you before he lifted one hand towards a boulder and crushed it into a peculiar shape with one swift movement.

Before you could process why he was now hovering the large rock over your body, you felt the earth rumble below you and push you upwards, straightening your spine as if you were laying on a table. Your legs began to dangle off the edge of the newly made platform as he locked you in place with the boulder he had shaped, which you noticed had a space carved into it only large enough for your waist to be pinned down. It was all adding up now as he grabbed both of your legs and pulled you closer to him, ensuring that you couldn’t escape his cleverly built trap.

Lifting your knees over his shoulders and pulling your underwear to the side, you felt his erection prod your slick entrance before he slowly pushed himself inside of your cunt, groaning in pleasure as he grabbed ahold of your thighs for stability. He began to rock his hips back and forth immediately, leaving you breathlessly moaning at the little time you had to adjust to his size.

“Only you make me feel this way,” he muttered as his grip on your thighs tightened. He leaned forward to pound into you at a better angle, his hips slamming into yours with each powerful thrust. “Only you can make me lose control of myself so easily...”

childe

“...I’m sure I can make all the pain go away and replace it with pleasure instead.”

Childe’s words echoed in your head as he yanked your underwear down and firmly gripped your ass, spreading your folds apart and making you shiver at the sudden exposure. You tried to wiggle your way out of the pile of rocks in protest, but that only pushed you further into his grasp, making him laugh at your pathetic attempt to escape. You didn’t want to admit that this was slowly turning you on, but looking down at the damp stain in your underwear, Childe knew regardless.

“You make it so easy for me,” he traced a finger over your already wet folds, eliciting a whimper from your throat. “You make it so easy for me to conquer you and remind you that you’re mine to play with.”

Even though you weren’t eager to get toyed around with, given the current circumstances of being completely locked in with nowhere to go, you weren’t completely opposed either. You couldn’t help but mewl at the feeling of Childe suddenly pushing one gloved finger inside of your trembling cunt, slowly curling his digit to massage your walls. “At least... take me home first...” you whined cutely, he thought.

“Why should I when you’re already enjoying yourself here?” he pulled his finger out momentarily only to push back in with two fingers, “Look how wet you are when we’ve only just begun...”

Childe could hardly contain himself either, but he didn’t want to verbally admit it. If only you could see how hard he was getting by the second just by staring at your vulnerable holes and the way your underwear hung around your knees, or the tiny squirming of your legs when he pushed the right spots inside you. If only you could see the way his eyebrows knitted together, breath stuttering as he fantasized about railing you into next year in this position, fucking you into the wall for hours until you cried for him to stop.

But for now, he decided he’d show you some mercy and make it quick. As he used his free hand to unbuckle his pants and unsheath his cock, he was determined to hear your screams echo around the walls of the cavern first before letting you go. “Hold still for me, okay? It’s not like you can go anywhere, anyway,” he chuckled then pulled his fingers out to grip your ass and position himself behind you, “I’ll make you feel so good...”

“Childe, wait–!” was all you could say before moaning in ecstacy as he began to drive his cock into your aching hole, each inch pushing apart your walls so deliciously that he couldn’t help but moan too. He stayed still for a moment, bottomed out inside of you, head pressed up against the rocks as he relished in the feeling of you clamping around his cock. But before you could relax and bask in the delightful feeling of being stuffed full, he squeezed your ass with both hands and began pounding into you with no second thought.

Whatever pain you might have had before was surely gone by his penetration alone. He knew how good he was screwing you by the way you whimpered out his name in between moans, or the way you subtly pressed up against him with the limited movement you had, matching his rhythm. “You better pray that I don’t lose control and fuck you here until the sun rises,” he said with a dubious smirk that you wish you could’ve seen, “But I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

diluc

To say Diluc was nervous as his eyes were pinned on your thighs rubbing together was an understatement. He could feel himself getting more aroused by the second, staring at your underwear and noticing a subtle wet stain that had developed beforehand. Your words were completely drowned out in his mind. All he could focus on was resisting his urges and maintaining his composure like a true gentleman.

But surely a gentleman could be a little self indulgent now and then, right? Especially since you were tempting him so badly wiggling around like that, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were doing this to him on purpose.

He took a few steps closer to the wall and adjusted his gloves before reaching into his coat pocket for a hair tie. “Could you repeat that again for me, dear?” he tilted his head as he gathered his long strands into a ponytail, never taking his eyes off of your glistening skin.

You happily obliged, listening to him kneel down behind you, assuming he was just picking up another rock. “I was just saying how – Diluc?”

Your assumption couldn’t possibly be more wrong. He interrupted you by pulling your underwear down to your thighs, licking his lips as his hungry gaze traced your wet folds, imagining what your face must look like by how he took you by surprise. His grip on your thighs tightened as he fantasized about you, the straps of your underwear still wrapped around his fingers to keep his hands on you no matter how much you squirmed underneath him.

He leaned down to press a sweet kiss on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you in response. Smirking, he stuck out his tongue and began slowly tracing the wet muscle around your folds, savoring your taste and savoring the sweet moans you gave him at the same time. “Keep making those pretty sounds, my love,” he whispered, his hot breath against your cunt driving you crazy.

His slow and sensual kisses on your cunt was only the start of his feast. Each kiss was accompanied with small circles he rubbed into your thighs with his thumbs and low periodic groans that sent vibrations through his tongue, making you whimper in ecstacy. But as much as he loved taking things slow and steady, he wanted to hear you cry out his name. He wanted to see how far he could take you to the edge by his control alone. He wanted to make those pretty legs tremble violently under his touch.

In one swift motion, he began to prod his tongue against your entrance, stretching your folds by drawing circles with his eager muscle. If only the rocks weren’t holding you down along with his hands pressing your thighs into place, you surely would have been thrashing around at the way he teased you with his tongue alone. Slowly, he began to extend his tongue into you more, inching his face closer to your aching hole and stopping once his nose met your skin. The sensation of his tongue gently quivering inside you made you melt, even more so when he started to fuck you at a steady pace with his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in your taste.

Soon, his movements started to reflect how hungry he really was for you. He bobbed his head steadily, stifling his moans so he could listen to yours. He took one hand off of your thigh to gently rub your clit with his thumb, still fucking you with his tongue and making you subtly rock your hips back and forth to match his rhythm. It hadn’t even been very long since he laid his hands on you, but your body couldn’t help but react to how worked up he was making you.

And of course, he would notice these reactions. Your shaky rhythm against his was an indicator to hold you down firmly and quicken his pace, and surely enough, the heat in your core was starting to build up. You buried your head in the rocks, flustered and blushing more than you ever had before. “D-Diluc...! More... more, please!”

When he pulled his tongue out, you figured he was just going to be mean to you and deny your orgasm but you were pleasantly mistaken. To your surprise, after a moment of rustling as he took one of his gloves off, he pushed two fingers inside of your needy hole and began to hit your sweet spot immediately as he fingered you, almost as if he had memorized what makes you cry out in pleasure. His eager lips began to suck on your clit as well, his heart set on making you cum on his fingers.

Soon enough, you couldn’t contain it anymore. Your legs quivered as you reached your peak, your mewling and whining sadly muffled by the rocks but loud enough for him to hear you clearly enough. The sound of his name being echoed throughout the cavern as your orgasm exploded on his bare fingers was enough to make his cock throb. With heavy, warm breaths, he pulled his face and fingers away from you to let you calm down from your climax, his face flushed red and nose shining from your wetness. “So beautiful... I can never get enough of you, [Y/N].”

You whined as he slowly let go of your thigh after giving you one last kiss on your sensitive clit. He licked his lips once more, lapping up all your wetness and wiping the excess that had dribbled down on his chin with his sleeve. With a chuckle, he stood up and placed his hands back on your ass, squeezing your curves and pressing his hips against yours. His clothed bulge fit so perfectly between your cheeks, snuggling comfortably in your wetness to leave a stain on his pants. He grinded himself into you even more at the sight of this, teasing you just for the fun of it. “Don’t worry love, we’re not going anywhere just yet...”

kaeya

“Now that I think about it, I do deserve a prize for saving you, don’t I?”

Kaeya’s hands travelled from massaging your scalp to scaling up your jaw, one thumb tracing your bottom lip gently asking to let him in. You pouted stubbornly, losing your patience – you had been stuck here for a while and wanted to get out, after all. “Quit running–“

But alas, he used this moment to stick his thumb inside your mouth, letting the pad of his finger massage your tongue. He let out a hum of satisfaction as your eyes softened, slowly submitting to his touch. “You’re being awfully defiant to the one person who can get you out of here. I ought to teach that naughty mouth of yours a lesson while I claim my prize, hm?”

This man never knows when to shut up, a voice in your head complained. But admittedly, the way he stared at your mouth so longingly had your core light up a tiny bit. You whined in response at first, looking down (or up?) at his thumb disappearing inside your mouth then deciding it would be best to comply. With a small hum you opened your mouth wider, letting your tongue stick out as your eyes darted to meet his. He grinned contently, pulling his thumb out of your mouth to pull his cock out of his pants. No matter how many times you’ve seen his length, you never understood how he managed to fit himself inside you.

“Good girl,” he tucked his hand under your neck to offer support as he pressed his tip against your awaiting tongue. He started rocking his hips slightly just to tease you, grinning evilly as he stared down at your eyes. “You’re so cute like this. So vulnerable and eager to please whenever I want you...”

He began to slowly push himself into your mouth, letting out a groan of relief as he buried himself inch by inch. You sputtered a bit at first, not completely used to his length just yet, but secretly he loved whenever you choked on his cock. He let you ride out your choking a bit more as he nearly bottomed out, watching as your throat slowly relaxed around his bulge.

His other free hand found its way on your cheek, caressing it as he started to rock his hips back and forth very slowly, basking in the feeling of your throat clamped around his cock. “Such a good girl, making me feel so good whenever I want... You’re doing very well, sweetheart,” he quietly praised, opting to listen to your muffled whimpering whenever he pushed in.

A bit of restlessness started to kick in after awhile of fucking your mouth so slowly, and with a naughty smirk, Kaeya took both hands to grip both sides of your head. He started to thrust into your mouth at a quicker pace, occasionally pulling out to give you a breath of air only to bury himself in your throat again. He found himself unable to contain his moans at this point, letting his sweet, raspy praises for you ring through your ears. Your legs started to twitch in excitement the more he praised you for being so obedient and good for him that despite your initial defiance, you hoped he would take care of your needs later.

Your thoughts were interrupted by his fingers running across your scalp then suddenly taking a tight grip on your head as he fucked your brains out quite literally. He began to get lost in the feeling, ignoring your pleas for air as you tapped his thigh repeatedly through tears. Even when he snapped back to his senses for a moment to pull out, he whined desperately as he quickly pushed himself back in, wanting to chase his orgasm so badly using your mouth.

“S-So good for me... I’m gonna...! F-Fuck, no..!” Kaeya quickly and quite nervously pulled himself out of you, leaving you immediately coughing and gagging in your own spit and his precum. He grunted in frustration, leaving you confused and concerned as you continued to choke for air. He suddenly tucked his cock back into his pants haphazardly and went straight back to work on getting the rocks off of you.

“W-What was that all about? Are you waiting until we get home or something?” your voice was clearly defeated as you watched him work. He only glanced back at you for a moment before chuckling and pulling one specific rock out of the pile to send the rest tumbling down, finally revealing your trembling body, exposed in all of its glory. You gasped in a mixture of relief and excitement as he hungrily climbed on top of you and pulled you towards him so your head wouldn’t hang off the edge anymore. You giggled at how disheveled and horny he evidently was, his movements ragged and needy. Who could blame him for looking so desperate when he was staring up and down your vulnerable body, waiting to devour you like a hungry beast?

His hands worked with urgency as he ripped your underwear off and unsheathed his cock again, manhandling your hips to meet his. You gasped as he quickly pushed himself inside of your cunt and began pounding into you mercilessly, not letting you adjust to his size since you were already so aroused for him anyway. Your cute whimpers and gasps made him even more feral, and it was at this point that he decided to lean down and whisper the answer to your question earlier.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t just wait until we get home, I need to be inside you right now...”

#zhongli #childe #ajax #tartaglia #diluc #kaeya #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #mine #bang #requested

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chosonore · 3 years

Text

infatuation

infatuation [noun. strong but not usually lasting feelings of love or attraction]

pairing: kamo choso/f!reader

summary: in a spurt of recklessness, you hire an escort to help you learn about relationships and intimacy. what you didn't expect was to fall in love with him along the way. [part of the kamo escorts collab]

wordcount: 23.3k

content/warnings: escorts au, slow burn, language, smut!!!, fluff, soft dom!choso, reader is very oblivious and painfully awkward, awkward firsts, dry humping, handjobs, oral sex (m + f receiving), fingering, uh somewhat public sex, loss of virginity, oral fixation, praise kink, lowercase is intended [VERY VERY UNEDITED]

a/n: hello here it is and finally done!!! i've been sitting at this for a week straight now and while i'm not super happy with it, it would've been a shame to just throw it out tbh. writing improvement is a slow progress after all! i'm dedicating this to @sukirichi who always hyped me up while i was writing this, happily welcomed me to the collab and who always supports my writing and i really appreciate it. thank you, from the bottom of my heart! (argh i have so many cut scenes that i ran out of space for dividers, sorry! hope the reading flow still makes sense though)

"that's what you were so worried about?" nobara looked at you incredulously, as if you grew two heads and asked for her firstborn. "you were scared that guys don't like you because you've never dated anyone?"

you let out an embarrassed whine, pushing at her arm in an attempt to get her to shut up. it wasn't your fault that she jumped to (multiple and very wrong) conclusions when you'd called her and maki, asking them to meet up so you could ask for advice. even maki looked mildly amused, patting your head apologetically. you were well aware of how ridiculous your issue sounds - the topic of dating had always made you anxious. you came from a very wealthy family that always sheltered and protected you from everything. you were their precious little girl after all; your father would rather drop dead than have you mingle with people who didn't treat you well and didn't deserve you. they meant well and it had never been an issue until you moved out to attend university (your parents had acted like you were leaving to travel the world and would never return, when really, you only moved two hours away from home).

even though nobara, maki and you had quickly become friends after you'd met at an event, you were wary to tell them about your background. it worried you, knowing how some people would treat you differently just to get on your good side and use you, so you opted to skirt around it as much as possible. it took you months until you opened up to them when you finally mustered up enough courage and trust to do so. they kept your secrets ever since, always protecting you and looking out for you. you were truly glad to be their friend. the two of them had grown suspicious when you kept declining their invites to join them for parties or to simply go to a bar and you were slowly starting to feel more and more guilty until you couldn't take it anymore and just confessed, asking them for advice.

"so that's why you're nervous even around inumaki," nobara concluded, propping her chin up in thought. "i didn't think your parents would be this protective. do they know that you want to start dating now?"

"no…" you confessed, fidgeting in your seat. "my dad, he um- he means well and usually has a good radar when he says that a guy doesn't deserve me. but i thought it was time to venture out on my own. it's good to have some experience, right?"

"i mean you're not wrong but i don't want you to be asking for advice simply because you feel pressured about dating since everyone else is doing it," maki retorted, giving you a concerned look.

you quickly shook your head. it wasn't that you felt pressured about not having any experience yet. you didn't necessarily want to admit to them that you were a hopeless romantic and liked the idea of being with someone; in the end, it was your own decision to venture. men made you nervous, you didn't know how to act around them and the thought of approaching a stranger by yourself was too scary. maybe it was a better idea to find someone to show you the ropes first, you felt embarrassed about your lack of knowledge and skills and - it wouldn't hurt to have some kind of dating training, right?

"i mean, technically, you could just ask one of the guys to take you out on a fake date. i'm sure megumi wouldn't mind," nobara was already pulling out her phone, making you grabbing her hand in panic and furiously shaking your head.

"i don't want to get them involved in this! it would make things pretty awkward and that's the last thing i would want. isn't there any other solution?" you explained quietly, playing with the hem of the dress. you felt bad for rejecting all their suggestions but you simply didn't want to be a burden to your other friends either.

"well," nobara and maki looked at each other grinning. "you could hire a fake boyfriend."

"really? you can hire tho-"

"escorts, y/n, escorts," nobara pushed her phone over to you, pointing on the screen. frowning, you read the little description. kamo escorts. you'd never thought about hiring someone, let alone knew enough about the topic. judging from nobara's face, she seemed to be well versed and it made you slightly suspicious.

"it's the easiest way for you and you have enough money to pay for their service. it's convenient, you can adjust it to your schedule and they'll send someone who fits your preferences. you choose the spot for your date and they'll make it happen, right? it's perfect and you don't have to worry about getting anyone involved," she explained, tapping at the bottom of the screen. "just give them a call, they'll walk you through the entire process. if you don't like it, you can find someone else or just abort mission."

"what do you mean they'll send someone who fits my preferences?" it did sound like an easy process, almost too easy. something was bound to go wrong, you could feel it. "i don't even know what my preferences are, so how could they possibly-"

"y/n, you might be blind but we are not," maki flicked your forehead playfully, she was more perceptive than you. "if you want, you can call them right now and we'll help you with the preferences, okay? maybe that'll ease your nerves a little."

"now?" you squeaked, eyes widening in horror. you weren't prepared at all; when you invited them over you were only planning to gather advice and then act on it.

"yeah! come on, it'll be fun and it's not like they can see your face," nobara grinned and was already dialing the number, moving away from you agilely before you could snatch the phone out of her hands. you wanted the earth to swallow you, why did they think that this was a good id-

"good evening, thank you for calling kamo escorts. my name is ijichi, how may i help you?" a male voice sounded from the phone, you instinctively dove behind the couch but maki was quicker and pulled you back with one fluid motion. curse her strength and speed.

"yes, hi, my friend here would like to hire an escort but she's too shy to do so, so we're helping her with the entire process. i hope you don't mind?"

"if it helps to ease the nerves, not at all."

nobars nudged you, holding the phone out. you pouted at her, shaking your head like a stubborn child. she rolled her eyes and pushed the phone into your hand forcefully, making you panic as you didn't want ijichi hearing your wrangling.

"um, yes, i- i'd like to hire someone but- ah nobara already mentioned that! it's for… for dates! i just need someone to go on dates with me."

"i see. is this a formal event?"

"n-no! i just need dating training of sorts, so casual is fine… if i do need to attend a formal event in the future, would that be a problem?"

"not at all, simply let us know when booking. our escorts are trained to be able to adapt to any situation and event, there is nothing you need to worry about, miss. do you have any specific preferences?"

"uh i-"

nobara leaned over your shoulder. "she prefers more mature guys! someone who's caring and attentive, someone who's not too outgoing and loud, it has to match her energy! since this is date training, there's probably going to be a lot of awkwardness so we'll need someone who is patient too. someone who can act like the best boyfriend to ever boyfriend. as for looks, i think she's fine with everything- although wait, maybe dark hair. yep, dark hair."

you couldn't believe her, she practically directed the entire call for you as if she'd made a plan beforehand, knowing that it would come to this. there was no doubt that she'd had this in mind, this was nobara after all. maki, on other hand, was watching you amused; she didn't usually engage in whatever shenanigans nobara was up to but she was always a bystander who very much enjoyed your reaction just now.

"miss, do you agree with the listed preferences?" ijichi asked after a moment of silence. you could hear him typing and occasionally scribbling on paper.

"yeah, yes, that's fine. is it possible to book him on weekends? i don't know if this is going to work out just yet so maybe once a week on fridays? i've never done this before so yeah."

"that is doable, yes. if you wish to engage in sexual relations, you may discuss it with your escort. these services come at an additional cost, of course."

"i don't-"

nobara interrupts you again, smirking at you cheekily. "it would be beneficial, so please take that into consideration when choosing the escort!"

"alright, thank you," ijichi went silent for a minute while he was organizing the files and schedules. "there are some possible candidates with whom i have to check with first. i will get back to you, should they agree to the job. after that we can exchange personal information and contacts so we can discuss the matter further."

"okay um. thank you, mr ijichi, i appreciate your help," you thanked him bashfully, giving him your number before thanking him again. you were already so deep in thought that you didn't even listen to his reply. now you've really gone and done it. were you crazy? what if your parents found out? they'd riot and be immensely disappointed in you. getting some dating experience through dating an escort, only nobara could ever come up with something like this.

"how do you feel?" maki inquired and rubbed your shoulders in concern, seeing how quiet you suddenly grew. weakly shrugging with your shoulders, you grasped the fabric of your shirt and nervously fiddled with it. the entire ordeal filled you with anxiety, a myriad of thoughts circling in your brain. it was the first time doing something "reckless" and it left you feeling nauseous.

"i'm not sure." you hesitated. "i'm curious to see how it goes but it just makes me really nervous. how do i act around him? and what if he finds me weird?"

"i don't think he's going to think you're weird just because you get nervous around guys. and besides, ijichi said he'd find the perfect guy for you, yeah? don't worry about it too much. if you don't feel comfortable after the first date, we'll figure something out."

"i guess so… um, but you guys don't mind accompanying me to it? just to make sure it's not some weird guy?" upon seeing your hopeful face, the two girls couldn't say no - of course not, you were their precious, innocent friend. as amusing as this situation was to them, they wanted nothing more than to support you and see you happy as well. you had already done a tiny step out of your little, sheltered world and much more was to come.

the ring of your phone nearly scared you to death, making you drop the book you were holding. quietly cursing, you picked it up and placed it on the table before answering the phone. who was even calling you at this time? everyone knew you were busy in the evening, slaving away on your assignments. it must be really important to interrupt your workflow like this- you almost dropped your phone in shock when you recognized ijichi's voice on the other side. admittedly, you forgot about the entire ordeal and didn't expect him to get back to you so soon. "good evening, ms y/n. i'm calling you regarding your inquiry so we can finalize all the details."

"u- uhm yes! thank you for calling!"

although ijichi was kind and patient, you were still nervous as you scribbled the details on a piece of paper. your escort's name was choso, he was a few years older than you and his schedule was very flexible. there wasn't more info, ijichi had announced that choso would call you as soon as possible. dread filled your stomach - it was nerve wracking to meet new people, not to mention someone you hired to be your fake boyfriend for the day. and now that you knew he was calling, all focus and concentration was thrown out the window. silently, you sat at the table and stared at your phone, waiting for the screen to light up. maki and nobara didn't need to know about this new development just yet as you wanted to navigate this on your own before telling them.

not too long after, your phone rang again, an unknown number flashing across the screen. it had to be him. even though you mentally prepared yourself for minutes, the anxiety came back full force. with trembling hands, you picked up, holding your breath as you waited for an answer. a deep, rather dulcet voice greeted you from the other side. you liked the sound of his voice, it almost put you at ease if it wasn't for your mind that constantly reminded you what was going on. you hastily introduced yourself to him and told him why you were requesting his services. the entire time, he was silent and let you speak - although you appreciated that he didn't interrupt you, every second that was passed in silence agonized you.

"hello y/n, my name is choso and i'll be your escort for the time being. ijichi told me you were looking for someone to pose as your fake boyfriend?"

"ah, uh yes sort of! i don't… have any experience when it comes to boyfriends and that kind of stuff. and i- i just wanted to learn what it's like to d- date and- and," your voice got smaller and smaller, until it was a mere whisper that was filled with all kinds of embarrassment that you felt. you couldn't help it, hopefully choso was still able to decipher what you were explaining. "you know, k- kissing and all that stuff. i've never done it with anyone before."

"i see," choso paused for a second, making your heart race. "i can't say i've had this situation before but i'm confident in my skills to guide you through this. before we first meet, let's set some boundaries so you feel comfortable at all times, okay?"

you hummed and nodded, although he couldn't see you over the phone. choso sounded like what nobara had described your ideal type - ijichi really had delivered and chosen the best possible match. choso knew what to say and how to steer the conversation in such a way that it didn't make you feel helpless or anxious. and you, in turn, felt like you could trust him with this issue.

"y- yes! uhm when i first called ijichi, a friend of mine helped me with the process and requested someone who was comfortable with sexual relations but… uh, to be honest, i never thought of requesting them. i'm not entirely sure if i want to do it either… i want to approach this in a slow manner, as slow as possible."

"alright, i can work with that. as for our first meeting, have you picked a time and location?"

you sighed in relief. choso seemed like a really nice and understanding person, leaving most of the options up to you. you knew it was part of his job but it felt nice to know that he was so forthcoming and accommodating. for the first date, you’d chosen a nice restaurant that had good reviews and little private booths. even though there was no way your father would ever magically appear and find out about your escapades, you were still trying to be secretive and cautious. the restaurant was situated in a widespread estate with beautiful gardens, the perfect spot to take stroll after dinner. in all the romance books you’d consumed, these type of dates seemed to be very popular - you thought to yourself why not? as you discussed your plans with him, you briefly wondered what he looked like. it felt weird asking him about it and you'd meet him soon anyways. maybe he looked like what you thought his personality was - like a prince charming? the prince that your dad had always assured you would come along. a small giggle left your lips at the thought of it; it was silly to believe it would turn out to be the love of your life. though it made you giddy thinking of your prince charming.

“is everything okay?”

“ah sorry, everything’s fine! i just had a silly thought a moment ago, that’s all,” reassuring choso quickly, you rubbed your cheeks in embarrassment. he must’ve thought that you were going crazy. “anyways, thank you for um, everything. i feel more comfortable now that i’ve discussed the details with you, thank you for being so patient. i look forward to meeting you!”

on the other end, choso hesitated, startled by your sudden enthusiasm when you were rather shy and timid before. it seemed that you were willing to open up a little more. he was curious himself, never having dealt with such a case before. usually, only experienced people who were looking for eye candy to accompany them to fancy events would hire him. he couldn’t imagine what you were like before meeting - it was nicer to get to know you in person after all, for the sake of a date setting. still, how were you able to afford the services? considering you were most likely a college student, he couldn’t fathom what lengths you went just to gain some experience. though he supposed, he shouldn’t judge you too quickly.

“i look forward to meeting you as well. see you on saturday, y/n.”

for hours you’d gone back and forth between outfits - casual? or more cute? maybe a mix of both? maki wasn’t much of a help either, mostly just giving you a thumbs up for every outfit while nobara had something to criticize about every outfit. you sighed, tossing yet another shirt onto the heaping pile of clothes. it was hard trying to impress someone that you didn’t know. the last item on your list was a simple, flowy dress and it seemed to be the best fit. you didn’t want to agonize over the choices any longer, seeing that the date was inching closer and closer. maki looked like she was bored out of her mind as well, scrolling through her phone as she was lounging on your couch with nobara. “are you sure you’ll be fine?” maki questioned you again. she was relieved about your good mood, how you were less apprehensive about the entire ordeal. when you first told them about choso after the phone call, you sounded slightly excited and were gushing about how nice he had been. you were hopeful that you could learn a lot from him. however, maki couldn’t help but worry about you, constantly making sure you were feeling okay.

“i’m sure i’ll be fine, don’t worry! we agreed to just have dinner today and let me test the waters… we’re really just doing whatever i feel comfortable doing for now,” you explained to the two of them, smoothing out the dress before grabbing your bag. “so yeah, i’m ready, i think. i mean if anything was to happen, i’ll let you know right away. i really have to go now though, you guys coming?”

nobara made a noise of protest, not wanting to get up from your bed which promptly earned her a nudge from maki. you giggled at your friend’s antics, grasping her arm to pull her up. as lighthearted and happy as you acted, you tried to hide your nervousness in front of your friends. worrying them did no good. as the three of you made your way to the restaurant, you checked your phone to see a text message from choso who asked to meet you in front of the building. you agreed, telling him that you would be there soon. the phone pinged again, choso had sent you a simple smiley. it made you grin a little, earning a suggestive glance from nobara whom you gently shoved.

"text us if anything happens, yeah? we can also pick you up afterwards so don't worry about it," maki reminded you again as you rounded the corner of the street, stopping mere meters in front of the restaurant so you could say goodbye to them. again, you reassured them that you would do as they suggested. you would be fine, because after all, choso was a professional. waving at your friends’ retreating figures, you slowly walked towards the entrance and let your eyes wander. the streets were busy, you couldn’t immediately make out anyone who was waiting in front of the restaurant. not that you really knew what choso looked like, you just hoped your search wouldn’t get more difficult with people waiting in the front. glancing at your reflection on the windows of a parking car, you made sure that you looked presentable and approachable.

“y/n?” your soul nearly left your body as you got startled by a deep voice behind you, now suddenly being aware of the figure behind you. whirling around, you almost hit the other person with your small bag with the swing. your eyes widened and you apologized profusely, fussing around to make sure the person was okay until you paused. wait a minute. this person knew your name. abruptly leaning back so you could look at the person’s face - they were very, very tall - you incredulously stared at them before spluttering: “c- choso? you’re choso?”

the taller male nodded, gently grasping your shoulders to steady you. on your bare skin, his hands felt scalding hot, making you painfully aware of how close you stood to each other. choso, for a lack of better terms, looked nothing like you’d expected but you couldn’t complain. he was attractive, very much so. he almost fit into the bad boy category, the type of men your dad would never let you close to. you felt inexplicably drawn to choso, like a moth to flames and you just couldn’t look away. he stared back at you, dark eyes glinting with concern as he took in your form. as your voice had suggested, you appeared to be a rather shy and timid person, looking at him like a deer in headlights. choso thought you were adorable, the way you were holding onto the sleeves of his shirt to not fall.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to hit you! you just really scared me there,” you apologized again, letting go of the fabric in embarrassment. luckily, he didn’t seem to mind, patiently waiting until you were composed again.

“don’t worry about it, i’m okay. it’s nice to finally meet you. should we head inside?” he offered you his arm which you gratefully took and followed him inside. truth to be told, you were starstruck by him, still too flabbergasted to say another word. thankfully, choso had picked up on your speechlessness, silently chuckling to himself as he led you to your private booth. you sat across from him, quietly thanking the waiter as he handed you the menu. eyes flitting back and forth between it and choso, you fiddled with the hem of your dress. what would you even talk about? you felt awkward, not knowing what to ask him; your confidence had suddenly vanished with the earlier incident.

“you look like you’re about to faint,” choso teased you, giving you a cheeky smile. “i’m not gonna bite you, i promise. i’m supposed to be your fake boyfriend, right? ask me whatever you want, just act like we’re good friends. it’ll get better with time.”

you nodded eagerly, face heating up at the mention of boyfriends. how does one even act around them without prior experience? let’s not dwell on it for too long, you thought to yourself. fidgeting on your seat, you pointed at the menu. "do you already know what you'll be getting? a lot of people online recommended their signature dish so i thought we could try it… but all of their dishes sound really good!"

“how about we order different dishes and try from each other then?” choso suggested in response, amusedly watching how your eyes lit up at his idea. you nodded quickly, delving back into the menu to find your desired dish. glancing over to his side to see what he was looking at, you then pushed your menu over to him, pointing at the dish you would be ordering. choso nodded in understanding, skimming the pages until he found a dish that complimented it. not wanting to let you wait any longer, he gave the waiter a sign, ordering for the two of you. across of him, you stayed quiet, still contemplating what to ask him.

“feel free to ask me anything,” choso reminded you again, propping his chin on his hand and leaned closer to you. “when you first get to know someone, dates are really just to spend time with each other and getting to know the other person. if there’s something you two have in common, you’ll just go from there and bond over it, yeah?”

humming in thought, you nodded and looked up at him. “so uhm… what do you like to do in your free time? i’m still in uni, so i spend most of my days studying. but i really like reading when i’m free and i also volunteer at an animal shelter. the pets there make me really happy!”

“my job takes up the majority of my time, so i try to spend time with family and friends as much as possible. my younger brother has gotten me into surfing and paddle boarding, i really enjoy doing that. what do you study, if i may ask?”

“i want to become a veterinarian in the future! it’s been my dream ever since i was younger, so yeah… you said you have a younger brother? i have an older sister but we don’t have much in common since she’s a lot older than me. but um surfing! so you spend a lot of time at the beach, right? i haven’t been there in a long time.”

“if you still wish to continue after today’s date, we could go to the beach next time? i can teach you, it’s not that difficult.”

surprised, your eyes widened at his suggestion. he seemed to be confident that there would be a next time and you couldn’t even deny that possibility. so far, you were easing into the conversation more and more - the process was more natural than the whole setting suggested. though he still made you nervous, he had been nothing but respectful of your space and friendly. not to mention that you were attracted to him as well; if you hadn’t hired him, you could imagine actually getting close to him.

"i- i'd love that." as you told him more about yourself and listened to his stories, you didn’t notice how much time had passed until the waiter suddenly appeared in front of you, presenting you the dishes. your mouth was watering at the sight of the delicious dishes, you couldn’t wait to dig in. quickly thanking the waiter, you then took a bite from the dish after he left. you sighed in satisfaction, taking your time to properly taste the first bite.

“this is so good, you need to try it!” you gushed, pushing your plate closer to the middle of the table. choso chuckled, sharing his plate with you as well. as you took in all the side dishes, he'd already taken it upon himself to pick up a smaller piece with his chopsticks, nudging it towards you. you looked at him confused, then back at the small piece of food. was he trying to-? carefully, you leaned in and let him feed you, confusion and hesitation immediately melting at the taste. the food made you happy, but the unusual intimacy and closeness that he just showed you wasn't lost in between the myriad emotions.

as you had dinner, the previous conversation continued. choso was a few years older than you, has been working in this industry for two years now and preferred coffee over tea. he disliked early mornings and liked to sleep in until noon. his most precious and valued object was a polaroid camera, he wanted to have photos commemorating important occasions or moments that were special to him. all these little details made you feel like he was less of an escort that you'd hired but more of a friend. much to your surprise, the conversation ran smoothly and there were no awkward, silent gaps. you supposed it was only natural; you felt comfortable with him so it was easy to talk. had it been any other guy who didn't understand you or your intentions so well, you probably would've closed up.

"do you want to take a stroll around the estate? i heard the gardens are really beautiful," you asked choso, a hopeful glint in your eyes. dinner was finished long ago, silence filled with light conversation and teasing from choso’s side. you weren’t sure where to go from this or how to suggest being… more intimate. choso had suggested you would go slow - but how slow was too slow? and if you were to go with the flow, when would be the right time?

“i would love to,” choso’s reply pulled you out of your thoughts, focusing your attention back to him. lost in your thoughts, you nodded and called a waitress over to pay the bill. you felt choso’s gaze on you, making you queasy. what did he think of you? or this entire ordeal? you wondered. as he stood up and moved behind you, you nearly jumped out of your skin when he placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the restaurant. the touch was unfamiliar, heavy and scalding even through your clothes, but not unwelcome. a strange feeling welled up in your chest, crawling its way up your throat, constricting it in such a way that it distracted you from coherent thoughts.

seeming to notice your conflict, choso stepped to the side, offering you his hand. you glanced at it, hesitating. “boyfriend experience, remember?” he grinned at you, patiently waiting until you took his hand. his hand was much bigger, almost entirely engulfing yours as you intertwined your fingers. gently swinging your arms back and forth with the flow, choso lead the way through the paths of the garden. having looked forward to it, you suddenly found yourself too distracted by him. the flowers and trees were beautiful and so were the statues but he was the one that caught your attention.

“my hands aren’t sweaty, are they?” you asked after a moment of silence, stopping to face choso. he laughed and shook his head, flicking your forehead gently.

“stop worrying about things too much, you’ll be fine. you don’t see me complaining, do you?”

“i mean that’s true… but i can’t help it! there’s just a lot to uh, think about…” your voice trailed off, you let his hand go to cover your face in embarrassment. choso inched closer to you, grasping your hands to pry them off your face. remaining stubborn, you pulled them back in, a giggle breaking from your lips when he tried again, playfully pinching your cheeks.

“want me to take your mind off said things?” he asked with a low voice, inching in further until your back hit a tree trunk behind you. he was so close, too too close. weakly, you pushed at his chest, trying to get him to back off. the sudden closeness that threw you off - your heart was racing at a million miles an hour, the endless possibilities dancing around your head. “how so?” your voice came out quiet and breathless, as if you were anticipating anything, something… his touch perhaps?

“do you feel comfortable with me?” without hesitating, you nodded in agreement. choso didn’t question you any further, simply gave you a knowing smile before diving in and pressing his lips against yours. instinctively, you stiffened, hands clenching around the fabric of choso’s shirt. breath caught up in your throat, you struggled to ease into it. you pulled away from him, squeezing your eyes shut in shame.

“i’m sorry that-”

“don’t apologize,” choso comforted you quickly, clasping your hands in his and intertwining them. thumbs gently rubbing the back of your hands, he lifted one of them to press a kiss against your knuckles. you blinked perplexed; your heart fluttered at the gesture. “don’t overthink it, there’s no science to it, yeah? just follow the flow, whatever feels good. we’ll go from there.”

giving you a moment to collect yourself, he leaned back in, silently waiting for permission. again, your breath hitched but this time, it wasn’t the nervousness. it was his eyes that drew you in, demanding all of your attention. dark, with unknown depths, that glimmered with mischief. ever so slightly, you tilted your head up to meet his lips. his warm lips pressed against yours, slowly testing the waters and letting you set the pace before deepening the kiss. now less hesitant, you kissed him back with more fervour, losing yourself in the feeling. it felt awkward and strange now that you let him guide you, leaving more space for you to ponder about the feeling that it evoked inside of you. you were glad he was holding your hands, otherwise you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. the kiss brought forth a pleasant, tingling feeling - the sort of feeling that pulled you in, lulling you in warmth.

when choso pulled away, you almost mewled in disappointment, chasing after him. he let out a breathy laugh, cupping your cheek. “how did that feel? was it okay?”

“y- yeah, i liked it. felt very strange at first but once i was able to ease into it, it was… more natural and felt really good,” you explained to him shyly, leaning into his hand. longingly, you gazed at him. would it be weird to ask for another kiss? you wanted explore the feelings more, the intimacy of it, wanted to feel more of him. as if sensing that you were craving more, choso leaned in again, stopping a few centimeters in front of your face. with a sudden surge of boldness, you closed the distance between you, leaning up to kiss him. choso's arm snaked around your waist, pressing you closer to his body. gradually your body felt hotter, a dull ache accompanying it, spreading across the expanse of your stomach.

before you could act on the urge, choso pulled away again, pressing an apologetic kiss to the corner of your lips. "sorry, i don't want to get too carried away and we're… uh in public," he laughed at your horrified expression upon realizing your mistake. "i take it that you're still comfortable with this? do let me know if it gets too overwhelming for you.”

“n- no, it’s fine! it was uh, an interesting insight. i just wasn’t expecting to really get into this, considering- considering i hired you for this and don’t really know you.”

choso hummed in agreement. “i guess there has to be at least a smidge of attraction for it to work, yeah?” you looked at him stunned, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. you couldn’t place it; couldn’t place the feeling of longing that was emerging in you. when he looked at you like that, it was difficult to remind yourself that he was just an escort that you hired for your personal problems. when he looked at you like that, it filled you with warmth, making you want to pretend that he really cared about you as if you were in a relationship.

“yeah… yeah, i guess so.”

nervously, you were twiddling with your phone, contemplating whether to text choso or not. after the last “date”, you felt confident enough in continuing your… relationship of sorts. he was great at guiding you, always making sure you were comfortable and moving at your pace. you did let him know that you would book another session, you just hadn’t set up a date or time yet. and casually texting him felt awkward. hey, how’s your day? oh by the way, i wanna book another session so we can make out haha? maybe calling was a better idea. there was no plan ahead, never did you think you would even get this far.

the dial tone made you nervous. you chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for him to pick up, bouncing your leg up and down. maybe he was busy? it was early in the afternoon after all, he was probably already out with other clients. “hello? y/n?” choso sounded groggy, his voice raspy and deep as if he’d just gotten up. it sent electric shocks right down your spine, raising goosebumps across your skin. never had you thought about a man’s morning voice before, but choso had you wondering, imagining. you spluttered: “oh hey uh are you busy? i’m not interrupting you with something, am i?”

“not at all, i just got up,” choso admitted with a quiet chuckle. “everything okay? are you calling in for another appointment?”

“ah, yeah! i thought that we worked quite well and there’s still a few more things i want to learn with you, if you’re up for it? if you’re comfortable with it too, of course!”

“mhmm, i wouldn’t mind,” choso pondered from the other side. sounds of rustling and a few clangs resounded before you could clearly hear his voice again. you were glad that he agreed to it, meaning that you weren’t entirely… hopeless in that department. for days, his words were ghosting around in your head, a constant reminder that he seemed to find you attractive as well. not that he showed it, staying professional despite the nature of your relationship. it was nice to imagine that someone would look at you like that, at your shy and timid self.

choso was meticulous about his work, working on every detail and concern until he was satisfied. even though he looked so easy going, from time to time he had to admit that he was a perfectionist and easily frustrated when something didn't go the way he expected. so when you rolled around, so innocently asking for help, it threw him off. the feelings of confusion grew when he first met you, unable to pinpoint the origin of this urge, possessive and demanding, reaching its tendrils out to you. the way you reached out to him for help, the fact that you wanted to continue, wanted him to teach you. it thrilled him to the core when it really should not. he had to remain professional. but he was curious, so curious. indulging a little wouldn't hurt, right?

to choso's surprise, the next venue you'd chosen was the own comfort of your home. you were barely acquaintances, more like strangers, and yet you felt confident to invite him here. at the phone you had told him that your friends thought you had weird ideas about dates due to only seeing glorified versions of them on tv shows and movies. it embarrassed you enough to take their advice, inviting choso over for a movie night as opposed to visiting another fancy venue with him. prior to the date, you went through movie suggestions and rented the ones that you thought were interesting and enjoyable for the two of you. despite your put together attire and look, your apartment did not reflect the sentiment. it was a little chaotic; books and paper stacking up in every free corner of the apartment, pens strewn across surfaces and here and there choso could spot memorabilia and photos.

you gave choso an apologetic look when you let him in. despite your best efforts to clean up, you were still not happy with the outcome. tidying wasn't your strong suit but you tried to make it as accommodating as possible. choso assured you that he didn't mind at all, telling you that it added to the charm of the apartment. it was unusual to have someone other than your friends or family in the apartment - your home was your sacred space that you rarely ever showed anyone else, let alone someone you had hired. choso took a seat on the couch, turning to look at you as you went to grab some glasses and drinks.

"i uh, told my friends about my plans and they just told me i have weird expectations of dates," you explained choso, placing the items you'd grabbed on the coffee table and rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. "they said it would probably just be better to have a simple movie night since a lot of people do that. and it would… make things a lot easier i- if we go fu- further…" the implication was hanging in the air, you didn't dare to speak them out. choso gave you a knowing smile, patting the empty space beside him. gingerly, you sat next to him, squeaking in surprise when he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you to his side. with wide eyes, you stared at him, still trying to wrap your head around the casual close proximity with the taller male.

wordlessly, you started a random movie, trying to focus on it. throughout the duration of it, choso would ask you questions about your day, how uni was going or whether you felt comfortable. you couldn't focus, not with him being so close. how you made it through the first movie you didn't know. you were hyper aware of choso's wandering hands, the ghost touches his fingers left, how he absentmindedly rubbed your legs that were resting on his lap. straining to keep your eyes on the screen, your neck already felt stiff from the tension.

"i can tell that you're distracted, you know?" choso hummed, hands squeezing your legs gently to catch your attention. pretending to not be affected by it, you shook your head. you didn't want to show him that you wanted to proceed, not yet.

"i'm trying to concentrate," you shushed him quietly, playfully pushing at his arm but still not looking over to him. silence. you assumed you'd convinced him that there was nothing wrong until you felt his hands innocently move a little higher, rubbing the top of your thighs. clenching your fists, you stayed put, unwavering in your resolve. choso's hands wandered, alternating between featherlight touches to using more pressure. he kept his eyes on you, gauging your reactions to him. you brought your hand up to cover half of your face. it was embarrassing, the way your breath came out laboured in response. without warning, arms were hooked under your knees, dragging you across the couch and seated you on his lap. you made a noise in protest, now finally paying attention to him. choso wasn’t sure why but it had bothered him that you were so adamant on keeping your attention on the movie as opposed to keeping your eyes on him.

choso wasn’t sure why but he craved your attention, wanted you to look at him only. his resolve crumbled when you looked at him with wide eyes, grasping the sleeves of his shirt to steady yourself. he couldn’t help but kiss you, swallowing your surprised mewl before you returned the kiss. pleased at your eagerness, he gradually deepened the kiss, licking at the seams of your lips. you gasp in surprise and parted your lips slightly, whimpering in anticipation. it felt unfamiliar and yet thrilling at the same time, fueling and flaring up the dull ache in the pit of your stomach. before choso could go any further, you pulled away and hid your face in the crook of his neck. “what’s wrong? did i go too far?” he questioned concerned, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“no, no, not at all,” reassuring him quickly, you awkwardly turned in his lap, legs still thrown over it. “i uh just wanted to try to take initiative myself, figure things out without getting hints from you… if that’s okay?”

a sigh of relief left choso’s lips. silently, he gave you his approval and leaned back, watching as you shuffled clumsily. finally, you straddled his lap and placed your hands on his chest. in the dim light, you couldn’t make out his face expression - choso was glad that you couldn’t, otherwise you would have been able to see how much it was affecting him, how he was slowly losing his composure and control around you. but this was about you, he was there to help you explore this type of intimacy. releasing another shaky breath, you then leaned in and softly kissed him. you kept a languid tempo, slowly and surely cracking his restraint. trying to mirror what he’d done earlier, you pushed further, timidly licking into his mouth as he parted his lips.

seemingly not being able to hold back anymore, choso pushed against you with equally as much fervour, gripping your chin and tilting your head ever so slightly. his lips moved against yours, sucking your bottom lip, eliciting a whimper from you. again the ache in the pit of your stomach was flaring up, uncomfortable and yearning for relief; you moved against his lap, pressing your body against his when your crotch dragged against the bulge in his jeans. choso groaned, hands flying to grasp your hips and steady you.

dazed, you gave him a confused look. choso cleared his throat, lifting his hips ever so slightly so you could feel his arousal again. when the realization hit you, your face heated up - you were surprised to find out that he felt aroused… by you.

“oh.”

“yeah.” choso retorted dryly, hands rubbing at his face in embarrassment. “fuck, i’m so sorry. it wasn’t meant to get out of hand like this, i don’t know how far you planned ahead for today but i-”

“uhm if you don’t mind…” you hesitated. but curiosity simply got the better of you, you wanted to see him breathless and feel as hot and bothered as you did. “could i uhm. you know? give you a handjob? only if you don’t mind because i want to know how to please uhm, please people.”

choso swore under his breath. you had no idea how painfully hard you were making him. quietly encouraging you, he leaned in to kiss you again and guided your hands to his jeans. you fumbled with the button and zipper, hands trembling slightly. it took you a few tries until you were finally able to unzip his pants, a giggle left your lips at the thought of how clumsy you were. your hands gently rubbed at the tent in his boxers, breath hitching as choso’s hips jerked. gaining some courage, you slightly put on more pressure and watched fascinated when choso’s fingers digged into the fleshy skin of your hips in anticipation. slowly, you pulled the waistband of his boxers down until it revealed his cock. choso hissed at the cold air that was biting at his skin.

carefully, you wrapped your hand around the shaft, marvelling at how the skin felt on your hands. sensing your cluelessness, choso wrapped his larger hand around yours and guided you into a slow rhythm to get you used to the movement. sucking in a deep breath between his teeth, he praised you: “you’re doing good, y/n. fuck, you’re being such a good girl.”

your heart soared at the praise. eagerly, you leaned up to kiss him, still stroking him in slow movements. choso moaned against your lips, the deep sound spurring you on, eager to hear more of his reactions. when you finally felt more comfortable continuing on your own, choso pulled his hands away and instead settled them on the small of your back, sliding them down until they were resting on your bum. you wrapped your other hand around him as well and paid attention to his reactions, adjusting the pressure and pace accordingly. choso buried his face in the crook of your neck, whispering sweet praises in between his moans. eventually your name left his lips; it set your entire body in flames, desperate want clinging onto your bones.

“fuck, i’m close,” he groans against the skin of your neck, hips rutting up to meet your movements more frantically now. you weren’t entirely sure what to do, opting to simply match the pace. shudders wrecked through choso’s body as he came, warm cum painting your small hands and running down your fingers. he was panting, leaning back against the couch and watching you with hooded eyes. the sight in front of you stirred something inside of you - choso’s flushed face, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin, his kiss-bitten lips. with curiosity, you inspected the liquid on your hand. lazily, choso grasped your wrist, holding them away from you. “‘m sorry. do you have a tissue?”

you tilted your head, tugging on the sleeves of his sweater with your other hand. “uh i- i’ve heard from others… um. can i try?” you asked quietly. choso’s grip on your wrist weakened; he gave you an incredulous look, as if you few two heads. out of all things, he didn’t expect you to suggest that. fuck, he felt the blood rushing right back down to his cock. just the thought of you, doing that - it was enough to make him cum again. “go ahead, if you feel like it,” choso whispered in a low voice. dark urges overcame him again, begging him to give in, to make you bend to his will, to submit, to-

his thoughts came to a screeching halt when he saw you unashamedly pop a finger in your mouth, licking the come from it. there wasn’t any reaction from you really, you gave him a sheepish smile afterwards and gratefully took the tissue he offered you. he helped you wipe your hands, diving in for another kiss. “sorry, i think i just short circuited,” choso laughed embarrassedly, another kiss was pressed to your temple. “that was just… uh- fuck.”

“r- really?” you stammered, hiding your face in your hands. “it’s okay if it wasn’t that great for you, it was my first time after all, i-”

choso hushed you, going for another open mouthed kiss, eliciting a whimper from you. “yeah, really. fuck, the things i want to do to you,” he shook his head, not wanting to get sidetracked again. “but this is about you. we’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable. did you feel like you learned enough for today?”

“mh- hmm. thank you,” you leaned your head against his chest, closing your eyes as a sudden tiredness washed over you. choso’s fingers dancing across your skin were slowly lulling you into a comfortable slumber. “what is it that you want to do to me? will you show me one day?”

choso cursed, shivers running down his spine.

“if you want to, of course.”

-----------

now that you’d met choso a couple of times, it was pretty obvious that you took some liking to him. after that fateful day, nothing else had happened as you wanted to work on easing into relationship dynamics and feeling less insecure about things - choso had been nothing but sweet and mindful about it, even went out of his way to find suitable locations for your dates. somewhere along the way you had started to text more casually, the strictly business type texting long forgotten. gradually, the two of you opened up to each other, the lines between escort and client slowly blurring and intertwining.

choso had promised to pick you up after your shift at the animal shelter for your next date; for today he had suggested you come over to his place for a change. the thought that he was willing to let you in his home, let you have a glimpse into his personal life, it made you giddy with anticipation. despite getting closer to each other, he remained a mysterious person and you didn't want to pry. after all, you were merely his client. but what if you were more- patting your cheeks to put some sense back into you, you leaned down to pet the dogs. unbeknownst to you, choso had already entered the building and watched you with a soft smile as you gave each of the dogs their deserved belly rubs before you left.

you didn't take any notice of him until some of the dogs perked up and carefully trudged over to sniff at the stranger. turning around on your heels, your eyes widened as you took in choso's tall figure. you quickly apologized, telling him that you would be joining him right away to which he simply shook his head and reassured you that you were fine. your co-workers were eyeing choso curiously, one of them wiggling their eyebrows at you. in response, you waved it off, too embarrassed to set the record straight. choso looked so awfully much like a boyfriend in this moment - the way he was dressed in casual clothes that accentuated his physical features so well, the soft smile he gave you as he offered you his hand to take, the way he sounded genuinely interested and curious when he asked you about your day.

silently, you took his hand and followed him out of the building - you could feel your co-workers’ inquisitive gazes like laser beams on your back. while they were never particularly nosy about your personal life, it was unusual that someone would pick you up from work; much less someone that you seemed to be romantically interested in. surely, they would grill you the next time you would return to work. “they think you’re my boyfriend,” you explained to choso sheepishly, glancing down at your intertwined hands. choso squeezed your hand and nudged your side gently. “am i not?” he winked at you cheekily, making your face heat up. he had asked in such a serious voice that you’d briefly questioned yourself.

“n- no, not really,” you replied quietly, looking away from him. choso reached around you to open the car door for you. in the window reflection you could see his face expression; it was rather somber, almost as if your words had hurt him in a way. the emotion was gone from his face when you blinked. maybe you had just imagined it. getting close to him on that level was unattainable, no matter how you twisted it. it just wasn't right.

the car ride was mostly quiet, only the sound of choso's car playlist accompanying you. somewhere along the way he had reached out to intertwine your fingers, resting his hand on your thigh. holding hands was almost natural to you now, the way his hands automatically sought out yours whenever possible. in response, your heart was racing, filling with the all too familiar feeling of yearning. whether you were simply yearning for the intimacy and closeness of a relationship or for him, you weren't entirely sure. while choso had told you about himself for the sake of the fake dating, there were still unknown facettes. it was impossible for you to get to know all of him, not when he was selling a fantasy to you. and yet, you found yourself craving more of him, beyond what he was willing to show you.

choso parked his car in the garage, turning his body sideways so he could look at you. "you okay? you look like you were quite lost in thoughts," he hummed curiously, rubbing circles on the back of your hand. what could you possibly answer to that? hey i'm questioning our fake relationship and it's going beyond what i expected? abruptly, choso hoisted you across the seat onto his lap as if you'd weighed nothing. "a penny for your thoughts? or should i take your mind off things?"

"i- i think i would… rather not talk about it," you whispered quietly, gaze skirting away from his eyes. choso frowned, slightly irritated - he had a small inkling why he reacted this way but banned the thought to the back of his head. he understood that as a client, you wouldn't disclose details of your private life to him. but he found it difficult to circumvent your dropping mood when he couldn't tell what was going on.

"i understand," choso was about to open the door when you suddenly cupped his chin and dove in for a kiss. he was caught off guard - rarely did you ever initiate kisses, usually shyly asking beforehand. feeling bold, you pressed you pressed your hips down, grinding against his crotch. choso groaned, gripping your hips to guide you while thrusting his hips up to meet yours. he enjoyed how you shuddered at the newfound pleasure, the delicious friction making your toes curl. "does baby want me to take her mind off things?" he murmured with a raspy voice, peppering kisses across your jaw.

"please," you mewled needily, hands grabbing onto his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. choso complied, sliding his hand up to tangle in your hair and gently pulled at it, tilting your head back. you were panting by the time he was moving down the column of your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. lower and lower, until he reached the top of your breasts; with swift movements, he yanked your shirt and bra upso , pressing open mouthed kisses to them before wrapping his lips around your nipple. your voice cracked as you moaned his name, hands flying up to bury your hands in his hair. distracted by the ministrations, you didn’t notice choso’s free hand sliding down your front until you feel the coldness of his hands on your skin. you squirmed, giggling at the cool sensation - the giggle died abruptly when he dove lower, fingers rubbing your clothed pussy languidly.

“c- choso! we’re still in the g- garage, people can see!” you stuttered scandalized, tugging at the tips of his hair to grab his attention. choso simply hummed, carrying on as if you hadn’t just told him your concerns. rubbing circles on your clit, he watched with satisfaction how your legs were trembling, writhing in pleasure. just the sight of you - hickeys on your neck, slightly swollen lips, shirt pushed up to reveal your tits, his hands down your pants - it was so arousing and thrilling, he almost didn’t want to stop.

“the windows are tinted and no one’s around at this time… do you really want me to stop?” he murmured with a low voice, fingers pushing your panties to the side to gather the slick up on his fingers. “look at you, how much you’re craving it. the want is written all over your face, baby. do you want to stop now?”

before you know it, choso’s hand is suddenly hovering over your face, fingers glimmering with your arousal. you shot him a dazed look, confusion evident on your face. “open,” he instructed softly, slowly and carefully sliding his fingers in your mouth. almost instinctively, your hands gingerly grasped his wrist. your lips wrapped around them, tasting the liquid curiously. his breath hitched, blood shooting down his groin - fuck, you were going to kill him. tentatively, he thrusted his fingers, slow enough so he could gauge your reaction to it. you didn’t know what it was - the taste of yourself, the weight of his fingers on your tongue, the way he was looking at you with hooded eyes and a hungry expression on his face; it made you squirm, eagerly for more. choso immediately took notice of your sudden mood shift. barely noticeable, your hips were rocking back and forth as you sucked on his fingers, cleaning them of your slick.

with a pop, choso removed his fingers. you whimpered his name, gasping in relief when he slid them back down, moving your panties to the side. his thumb found your clit, rubbing the little nub gently in slow circles. as if he was in no hurry and unbothered by the prospect that someone could actually spot you, he continued his ministrations. your legs jerked, threatening to close when you felt his fingers prod at your entrance. excruciatingly slow, he sunk a finger into you. the feeling was unfamiliar, almost uncomfortable at first. seizing up, you clenched around the finger. “relax, ease into it,” choso whispered reassuringly, capturing your lips in a kiss. “it’ll feel good, i promise.”

choso inserted a second finger, letting you get used to the feeling of them. the kisses he was peppering on your chest were distracting you from the burning stretch, creating a confusing mix between pain and pleasure. “how are you feeling?”

“f- feels good, i- i-” you were struggling to form coherent sentences, too focused on how he was lapping at your nipples, sucking and kissing them gently. “y- you can continue…”

steadily, choso started to thrust his fingers into you - gradually, the burn was disappearing and replaced by a delicious stretch, pleasure that was spreading throughout your body and setting your nerves on fire. desperately clinging onto his shirt, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. choso placed a kiss on the crown of your head, whispering sweet praises and telling you what a good girl you were. it felt good, so good but something was missing, you needed something, maybe more. you started begging and despite blabbering nonsensical things, choso understood what you were asking of him. his fingers hit a peculiar spot inside of you when he curled them, making you jerk in surprise. “o- oh!” again and again, choso was hitting the spot, making you writhe on his lap.

something was building up in the pit of your stomach, like a tightened coil that was about to snap at any time. panicking slightly, you grabbed choso’s hand and tried to close your legs, wiggling away from him: “h- hey wait, i-” another moan broke from your lips when choso sealed your lips with his and wrapped his arm around your waist, locking you in place. “it’s okay, let go, baby. cum for me,” he whispered against your lips, sinking his fingers in you one last time. and then the coil snapped, the high crashing over you like a riptide, so blinding and intense that it took you a while to come down from it. your thighs were still trembling by the time you came back to your senses, ripples of pleasure still cursing through you.

you slump against choso's chest, exhausted from the intensity of your orgasm but feeling wonderfully blissed out. choso removed his hand from you, licking your arousal from his fingers before wiping them off on a paper towel. he brushed his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "how are you feeling? can you move?"

"my legs feel like jelly," your voice came out muffled, face still pressed into his chest. "'m feeling good though. that was… really nice."

"i'll carry you upstairs," choso declared matter-of-factly, hoisting you up so he could carry you. you slung your arms around his neck, pecking the side of his neck. his scent was faint but calming, lulling you into a sense of home and comfort. you wanted to stay close to him like this, just having him hold you in his arms. a myriad of emotions welled up in you, swallowing all your doubts until all that was left was the budding blossoms of your feelings for him, nurtured by his soft touches and adoring treatment. you wanted to cherish him, keep him close for as long as you could, as long as you could still have him.

"thank you."

"for what?" choso sounded surprised.

"taking care of me? i mean i pay you for it but i still wanted to let you know that i appreciate it."

“everything for you, baby,” choso replied softly, tightening his grip around you. as you got to his apartment, choso placed you on the couch and knelt down, hands wrapping around yours. “do you want to get changed? i’ll lend you some of my clothes, you can get changed in my room or in the bathroom if you want to freshen up.”

he was so so considerate, you couldn’t believe someone as nice as him existed out there. as you agreed, choso disappeared in his room; the sound of opening doors and drawers as well as rustling resounded from his room. you took the opportunity to observe his home. it was a small but cozy apartment, despite being sparsely decorated. in the back of the living room, you could spot some bags and boxes, presumably choso’s surfing equipment, as well as posters and photos cluttered on a pinboard. here and there, some little figurines and trinkets were spread across the apartment. although it was cozy, the apartment lacked some kind of presence, some warmth. you assumed that it had to do with choso’s job - he probably was rarely home between work and spending time with friends and family.

“here you go,” choso handed you a big sweatshirt and some shorts as he came back, patting your head teasingly. “go and get changed, i’ll start preparing dinner, yeah?”

you hid in the bathroom and got changed, neatly folding your clothes and stacking them on the counter. inspecting yourself in the mirror, you admired the size of choso’s sweater - it was a simple and cream coloured sweater that was entirely dwarfing and engulfing you. the sleeves were way too long and the hem almost reached your knees. but it was soft and comfy, coming close to choso’s hugs. you pulled the shorts up your legs, awkwardly securing them by tucking them underneath the sweater. choso had set up some boiling water and was silently chopping vegetables by the time you left the bathroom and tip toed towards the kitchen. “can i help you with anything?”

“no it’s okay, take a seat. do you want anything to drink? water? tea?” reluctantly, you sat at the small table on the side, pouting at him. choso simply laughed and shook his head, bringing a glass of water over. your heart jumped in surprise when he kissed your forehead as he placed the glass on the table. “i’ll take care of you for today. boyfriend duties, remember? the past times you’ve always taken us out on restaurants and incredible locations and now it’s my turn to show you the boyfriend magic.”

sudden dread filled your stomach. how could choso be so warm and kind-hearted to you, when you weren’t even in a relationship? you keep having to remind yourself that this was what he was doing for a living, that you might possibly never know the real him. that this might just be a mask that he kept on for the sake of your requests. you didn’t reply, deep in your thoughts as you stared at the glass of water. choso returned back to his previous task, cooking dinner in silence. your chest felt heavy with uncertainty and disappointment - you tried your best to push the emotions down. they were irrational, you knew full well what you were getting yourself into when you asked for his service.

thankfully, choso didn’t seem to have picked up on your sullen mood, even throughout dinner - you let no emotions shine through when you conversed with him, choosing to keep it lighthearted. you offered to wash the dishes, not wanting him to lift another finger when you could help him in return. as you scrubbed the bowls, choso creeped up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his chin on your shoulder. “you wanna watch a movie? or go to bed already? you’ve had a long day at work after all.”

“hmm, yeah. i think i’d prefer going to bed, if that’s okay for you?”

“i could never say no to cuddles,” choso hummed, capturing your lips in another kiss. you whimpered against them, not being able to resist him. he moaned against your lips, grip on you tightening. “please don’t tempt me, it’s so hard to say no to you,” he warned you with a strained voice.

your face grew warm at the memories of a few hours ago. you couldn’t believe you let him do that, let him finger you in his car in the garage. no one had seen you and you were thankful for that but you wanted the ground to swallow you whole at the thought of someone possibly snitching on you. your father would lose his mind. “is- is it not what you want?”

“of course i do, but not today. baby steps, remember? we have all the time in the world. and i can assure you that i very much want you,” with one last peck on your lips, he removed himself from you and disappeared in his room. he wanted you. your heart was soaring at his confession. you were relieved to know that he was craving you as much as you were yearning for him. maybe you would indulge, just for a couple more times until you would inevitably have to cut off the relationship. you felt at peace with your decision, you told yourself. nothing good would come from false hope.

after washing up, you joined choso on the bed, shyly crawling towards him as he opened his arms and welcomed you. he pulled you into his chest, nearly crushing you with his weight. it made you giggle and squirm in his arms, trying to wiggle out of his hold. choso was having none of it, peppering kisses all over your face as he trapped you in place. gasping for air in between your carefree laughter, you weakly pushed at his head, squealing when he dove in to blow raspberries on your neck. he showed mercy and let up, instead curiously inspecting your neck as he pulled the neckline of your, no his, sweater down. something dark was glinting in his eyes as his eyes zoomed in on the hickeys he had left on your neck and chest - he felt strangely satisfied, pleased with his work of art. a sliver of possessiveness overcame him as he traced the trail of red marks on your neck, humming quietly.

“something wrong with my neck?” you questioned confused, not having spotted the hickeys yet. choso shook his head, simply laid back on his side again to look at you. “not at all. was just inspecting the hickeys i left on you.”

“you left marks?” you gaped at him, mildly shocked at the revelation. though he was preoccupied with your neck earlier, you didn’t expect him to actually leave so many marks, much less ones that were visible. “is… is that a common occurrence?”

“for couples? i think so. but i can’t speak for everyone; if it was me, i would do it frequently. stake my claim on you, let everyone know that you’re mine,” choso replied and casually draped the blanket over the two of you, as if he didn’t just admit to doing something he would normally do with a lover. did he think of you as his? you struggled to decipher his actions, not being able to match it with a specific reason.

“that’s uh-” your stuttering was interrupted by another horrifying thought. “oh god, i can’t let my parents see this, they will kill me.”

choso shot you a confused look. you hadn’t told him about your parents yet or how you were hiding this from them.

“my parents… especially my dad, are very cautious about letting me venture out in romantic relationships. it’s mostly because he didn’t feel like anyone was good enough for me and because he didn’t want me to get hurt. sometimes i felt like those princesses locked up in a tower, you know? so i decided to explore and uh, hired you. i didn’t want to burden my friends with having to help me gain some experience,” you explained to choso, eyes widening when he suddenly grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to it. he winked at you cheekily before leaning over you to turn off the lights. you felt him press a gentle kiss to your lips but you couldn’t make out his face expression in the dark. choso preferred it like this, so you couldn’t tell the vulnerable look on his face, the ache of knowing that he could never fully be yours.

“then i’m glad i get to serve a princess such as you.”

----------

“you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with choso,” nobara commented as she took a sip from her coffee, reaching out to grab one of the muffins you had ordered. you looked away in embarrassment. it’s been nearly two months since you’ve started to meet up with choso. your dates became more frequent, even the casual texting continued. and yet you hadn’t really told your friends about your progress or how you felt about him, either brushing it off or giving them vague details. it was only natural that nobara and maki grew suspicious, vowing to grill you about it the next time you would meet up. “have you done the deed?”

“n- no! not yet,” you answered hastily, the topic still making you feel bashful. though you had talked to choso about it; he had agreed and hinted that you might go all the way the next time you would meet up. it was weird, scheduling something like this. but you felt more at ease knowing that it was approaching and you could somewhat prepare your nerves for it. “we talked about it though… next time, maybe?”

“i see,” maki nodded slowly, deep in thought. “you’ve been skirting around this escort thing a lot. is there something you’re hiding from us?”

“nope! not at all!”

“y/n… we’re looking out for you as friends. i know you told us that you trust choso and that he’s the nicest person you have ever but is there something more?” maki gave you a gentle nudge. the serious look in her eyes told you that you better not give her a lame excuse. even nobara, who was usually playful in nature, looked mildly concerned. as much concern as she could muster up anyways. sheepishly, you stared at your mug, watching the milk swirl with your hot chocolate. surely, they would tell you to stop seeing him, to stay away. because catching feelings for someone whose true feelings and self you could never uncover… should have been something you could have prevented. if only it hadn’t been so easy to give in, so easy to develop feelings for choso.

“uhm. i just realized that i like him, like a lot. i know i shouldn’t and should have circumvented the issue somehow but now i’m stuck with my feelings. and it’s just confusing. before you get mad at me, i’ve already decided to cut it off after our next date. i can’t dwell on it for too long because realistically, nothing is going to happen.”

wordlessly, nobara gave you a hug, patting your back to soothe you. “is he really that great though?” maki lightly swatted nobara’s arm and gave her an eyeroll. her comment made you laugh, she knew how to lighten up a situation.

“i think so. very gentleman-like and just takes good care of everything. i really appreciate how well he’s been taking care of me this entire time. he just is the perfect boyfriend, you know?” nobara nodded but you could tell from her face that she was trying to put the puzzle pieces together. it made you laugh again, pinching her cheek playfully. you didn’t want to worry your friends too much. they always helped you in every situation and now it was time you would take care of everything yourself.

“i can’t believe this entire time we were trying to find you a perfect partner and you’ve gone and went the whole nine yards, boyfriend experience and heartbreak all together,” maki joked and ruffled your hair, giving you a reassuring smile. “you know we’re there for you if you need emotional support in this, right? we might not be much of a help while you go through the fake breakup but we can help you take your mind off afterwards.”

you sniffled a little at the thought. your next date was fast approaching and you were grateful to have such great friends, who would always look out for you and be understanding even if you made dumb mistakes. your next step would be to learn how to mend a broken heart.

everything had to be perfect. the entire evening you had been on the move, busy cleaning your apartment and room and spending time in the bathroom making yourself look presentable. you still felt nervous exposing all of you to choso, never had anyone seen you naked before. the thought of it had made you so anxious that you’d called nobara who promptly suggested you wear cute underwear and something comfy to ease yourself into it. chances were that choso didn’t really care and wouldn’t judge you anyways; he had always been generous with compliments, always telling you how pretty you looked, how cute you were, and what a good girl you were for him. you didn’t think you could feel so fired up from praises nor did you think that you would be craving to hear them so much until choso came along. the feeling of euphoria that overtook you whenever he praised you, along with the pleasure he gave you whenever you were fooling around - it was a deadly combination.

knocks at the door made you perk up, hastily racing over to the door to let choso in. he chuckled when you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest. “hey baby, missed me much, huh? i missed you too,” choso admitted, softly combing his fingers through your hair. you peeked up at him from below, closing your eyes as you leaned into his touch like a cat. “mhmm, missed you a lot,” you mumbled, humming in content as choso pecked your lips briefly before waddling inside the apartment with you in his arms, closing the door behind him

“what am i going to do with you?” he mumbled amused and sat down on the couch, pulling you onto his lap. he squished your cheeks between his hands, kissing your pouty lips with a broad smile. “you always make it so hard for me to leave.”

your heart sunk at his last words, remembering how you were planning to proceed by the end of this date. surely, it couldn’t be so hard and he wouldn’t think much of it since it was all business anyways. and yet, you couldn’t help but seize up with dread, not wanting to hurt him. if, and only if he would actually be affected by it. you placed your hands on his, sticking your tongue out at him. you teased him: “you leave but you always return, right? doesn’t that give you something to look forward to?”

“yeah, always come bouncing back…” choso trailed off, a faraway look on his face. you couldn’t tell what he was thinking - each emotion that surfaced was only fleeting and quickly wiped from his face expression as if it never existed in the first place. perhaps he was keeping his heart as guarded as yours, for baring the most vulnerable parts of yourself could be your downfall. he ran his hands along your thighs, rubbing the bare skin gently, fingers teasingly slipping under the hem of your shorts. your breath hitched in your throat, expecting him to move his hands up further. but by now, choso knew how to play you like a fiddle, what drew beautiful moans out of you, what made you whimper in anticipation and how to build up tension. he knew how to tease you and use it to his advantage; knew well that you would follow his instructions like the good girl that you were, never disappointing him. “gotta take care of my princess, hm?”

choso dipped down, brushing the strands of your hair out of the way, showering it in kisses. you mewled quietly, tilting your head to the side to allow him more access to your neck. he was still murmuring between kisses, telling you how sweet you were, how he was going to make you sing his name, how he was going to take care of you. the whispered praises were getting to your head, you easily melted into his touch. “c- choso,” you gasped, already drowning in him as his presence clouded your senses, wrapping around you as if nothing else but him existed. “please touch me.”

“your wish is my command,” choso lifted you up as if you weighed nothing, carrying you to your bedroom with ease. gently, he dropped you on the bed, simply hovering over you without saying a word. the look in his eyes knocked the air out of your lungs; you loved his eyes, his dark brown eyes that were filled with so much warmth and love, now darkened and filled with lust. he observed you, waiting for you to make a move - you stayed still, tense with anticipation. with every single intimate encounter you had with him, you gradually learned that choso enjoyed being in control, overjoyed when you were obedient and remembered what he had told you. he liked having you at his mercy, being the first and only one to discover the expanse of your body, to pleasure you in ways you were yet to familiarize yourself with.

choso’s tapped your lips, carefully sliding two fingers in when you willingly parted your lips and sucked on them. the weight of his fingers on your tongue, the dazed look on his eyes as he watched you - it was all so erotic, so arousing. you lifted your hips, grinding against his thighs for some kind of relief. it drew a slightly irritated click of the tongue from choso, gently pressing his fingers against your tongue. but he enjoyed the view, seeing how you wanted him so much, how you were seeking relief by humping his thigh. you could already feel yourself soaking through your panties and your thin shorts, arousal smearing across choso’s thigh and leaving a wet spot on his jeans.

pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he slid them down, lower and lower, smearing your spit across your skin. his fingers stopped right at the buttons of your blouse, playfully rolling them between his fingers. slowly, he unbuttoned the blouse, pushing the fabric off your shoulders to reveal your bra. you squirmed, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed about being so exposed in front of him. “you’re beautiful,” choso reminded you. “don’t hide from me. i want to see all of you.”

reluctantly, you kept your arms at your sides, instead clenching your fingers around the fabric of your comforter. teasingly, his hands dragged across the tops of your breasts before dipping lower. “look at you, how soaked you are already. you’ve even left a spot on my jeans. i haven’t even touched you properly yet… has my princess missed me this much?” he mused, gently rubbing circles across your skin. he was careful not to move anywhere close to your crotch, resolutely keeping his hand near your navel.

“yes, please touch me,” you mewled, grasping his hand to guide him towards the hem of your shorts. his hand splayed across your mound, rubbing in deliberately slow movements, making you sigh in relief. choso tugged on your shorts, dragging them down your legs with ease. you clenched your eyes shut, hiding your face behind your hands. choso stayed silent for a few seconds and simply admired you in the dim light of your room. he could tell that you'd chosen a nice set of underwear to impress him - you looked so cute in it, like a present waiting to be unwrapped. he took notice of the dark patch on the crotch of your panties, how they were clinging onto your skin and how your arousal was glistening on your inner thighs.

"you look breathtaking," choso complimented you, gently removing your hands from your face. "i told you not to hide, didn't i? give me all of you, baby."

you blinked a few times, sheepishly thanking him. his praises overwhelmed you, making your chest swell with pride. but still, you didn't know how to react when he was singing your praises, too bashful to reply coherently. choso removed your panties in painstakingly slow movements, leaving trails of kisses on your inner thighs up to your ankle. throwing your panties to the floor, he then pulled your legs over his shoulders. you watched him bewildered, not sure what to make of it. the position made you feel oddly exposed; all of your senses were heightened, strained to focus on choso only. the oversensitivity caused your hips to jerk when choso’s breath hit your pussy, keen on receiving attention. the swipe of his tongue on your slit was something you didn’t expect - the sensation was new, uncharted territory, so different from his fingers. it drew a whimper from your lips, making your toes curl against his back.

languidly, he was lapping at your folds, taking his time to get you used to the feeling. it wasn’t until his tongue dragged across your clit, lips wrapping around it to suck gently, that whines and whimpers spilled forth from your lips. your hips automatically lurched forward, rocking against his face. you couldn’t wrap your head around the pleasure it provided you, how it rendered you into a babbling mess with only his name on your lips like some mantra. needing to busy your hands otherwise, you clenched your fingers around his hair, subconsciously pressing his face into your pussy. choso groaned against you, the slight burn turning him on beyond relief. you felt like you’re floating, higher and higher, rapidly approaching your high and it was still a feeling you’re trying to get used to, a feeling that you readily welcomed and craved.

it was a combination of all the touches that bring you closer to the edge; how he was sucking at your clit before flattening his tongue against your clit, paying close attention to it, how it was repeatedly and rapidly dragging across your folds. it made you sob, begging him to make you cum. choso pulled you even closer, fingers digging into your thighs as he lapped at your swollen clit, again and again until you come with a loud moan, barch arching from the bed, heels digging into choso’s shoulder blades. clenching your eyes shut, you attempted to push his face away from you, now feeling too sensitive. your legs were trembling uncontrollably, you gasped for air as your high washes over you and slowly ebbing away. choso sat up on his knees and only then you see the arousal smeared across his chin and lips. the sight sent electric shocks up your spine, breath hitching in your throat. he looked so fucking hot like this. he gave you no time to be embarrassed about it, wiping the slick off his skin and licking it off his hands.

“c- choso, what-” you croaked, voice all raspy from your relentless moaning. choso didn’t reply, instead kissed you open mouthed - the taste of your arousal was still present on his tongue. in the back of your mind, you thought about how dirty it was and yet so thrilling, eliciting a hunger for him. desperately, you were tugging at his shirt, trying to get it off. you were struggling, huffing in frustration as he didn’t budge. choso laughed, pecking your lips apologetically before taking it off along with his pants. even in the dim light you could make out the bulge in his pants, a testament of much he wanted you. the sight made you salivate, your pussy clenching around nothing. he took notice of your dazed look, grabbing your chin to tilt it up. “are you sure you want this? do you want me?”

you nodded quickly, eyes widening at his question. “of course, i want you, never wanted anything more. please, choso.”

“you have me, all of me,” he retorted, a tender look in his eyes. again, your heart clenched. just one more time you would get to see him like this, pretend he really was your lover. but when he looked at you with so much adoration in his eyes, it was hard to believe that there wasn’t a spark between you. unbeknownst to you, choso had always looked at you with stars in his eyes, hoping that you would return the sentiment. no matter how hard he was keeping his feelings at bay, the cracks were widening, allowing more and more feelings to seep through. with each touch, each word that you exchanged, the dam was weakening and threatening to spill everything that he was keeping inside.

choso gently pressed you back down onto the mattress, fingers fumbling with the condom that he’d pulled out of his jeans. you watched with fascination as he put it on, not being able to take your gaze of it. he grinned, deciding to indulge you, pressing his cock against you. arousal was still leaking from you, allowing him to easily slide against you. deliberately, he nudged the head against your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore. you wiggled your hips, signaling him to do something, do put you out of your misery. choso glanced at you for permission, suddenly seeming to be nervous himself. you gave him a small nod, leaning up to cradle his cheeks and kiss him. choso began to push, slowly slipping past your folds and- the stretching burn, it was there again and made you tense up.

choso grasped your hands, intertwining them and showered your face with kisses, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement. the feeling was familiar and yet strange at the same time, the girth of his fingers were nothing compared to his cock. it was a tight fit; you were aware of him, so aware of him. muffled, you heard choso telling you to relax, that he didn’t want to hurt you, to take your time. he was still pushing, distracting you from the uncomfortable pain with kisses. with one last thrust, he’s pushed the entirety of him in you. faintly, you could feel pain gradually ebbing away. the fullness of him, the throbbing; you clenched around him, a quiet moan leaving your lips as choso’s hips jerk in response.

“you okay? can i move now?” he whispered against your lips. you nodded, feeling choso smile against your lips. your breath hitched in anticipation as he pulls out ever so slightly before thrusting back in. you let out a whimper at the sudden thrum of incoming pleasure, hands squeezing his. choso thrusted his length in and out of you slowly, still wanting you to get used to it. the drag of it against your walls, the way his cock ever so slightly bumped against that spot inside of you that made your body sing - you sobbed out his name, hips tilting up to meet his movements. choso had no qualms obliging to your unspoken wants, upping the pace once he’s made sure you felt comfortable.

slowly, his inhibitions fell apart upon seeing you desperately cling onto him, moaning out his name as he pulled out and drove back in, deeper than before. you saw stars when he hit the spot inside of you, burying himself inside of you completely. it’s been a short amount of time but choso was quick to figure out what made you shake in pleasure in particular, memorizing every little nudge and wiggle that would have you gasp out his name. the closeness, the intimacy, it easily beat everything else that you’ve ever done before but it was now that you realized that no one could compare to choso. while your initial goal was to simply learn and gain some experience, somewhere along the way, you veered off the path. perhaps your goal was never to find out what it was like engaging in sexual activities but rather to experience it with someone you loved. it was then that you realized you didn’t care about these things unless you could experience them with choso.

while choso was no stranger to having people in his bed, the sight of you was one he would never be able to get out of his head again. how your moans and whimpers were getting more frequent with each thrust, how you were sobbing his name whenever he hit particularly deep inside of you, how your small hands were holding onto his, how you clenched around him whenever he praised you. he wanted to keep you for himself, to impale himself in you in such ways that you could never look at other people the same way anymore. “i- i’m close,” you hiccuped between sobs, back lurching from the bed. “choso, p- please, i wanna cum, i-”

“i’ve got you, princess,” he assured you, diving down to kiss you feverishly. relentlessly, his hips pistoned against yours, desperate to make you cum. choso couldn’t hold back any longer, he was close, so close. wanting to cum with you, he reached down to rub your clit. your reaction was almost instantaneous, legs pressing against his side as you came, his name on your lips like a prayer. he came with you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as groans left his lips, mixed with your name and curses. his hips stuttered as they pressed against you one last time, staying in place until he’s spilled all of him in the condom. you felt like you were floating, still dazed from the intensity of your orgasm. absentmindedly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, hand absentmindedly playing with the hair at his nape. choso let out a noise, akin to a cat’s purr, nudging his head against your hand. his gesture made you giggle and you strained your neck to press a kiss against his forehead.

slowly, choso removed himself from you, letting out a breathy laugh as you protested. you made grabby hands at him but he simply tutted, disappearing in the bathroom to dispose of the condom and came back with a wet towel. it felt comforting, the warmth of the towel as well as his gentle touches, lulling you into a sleepy state. it didn’t take long for him to join you again once he was done, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest like the countless times he’s done so before. “how are you feeling? i didn’t hurt you, did i?”

you shook your head, trying to find the right words. in the end, nothing came into your mind to appropriately tell him how mind blowingly good he made you feel so you just settle with: “felt good, really good. didn’t hurt, jus’ felt uncomfortable at first. but you made it okay, it’s okay when it’s with you.”

“i see,” choso let out a relieved breath, laughing as you blinked at him stunned. you looked adorable, still floating and coming down from your high. “i’m glad i was your first, glad i could do it justice. just wanted you to feel good.”

“mhmm, thank you,” you slurred sleepily, arms wrapping around his waist. you felt so warm and loved, not wanting to let go of the feeling just yet. “can we do it again some other day? you promised to show me what you still wanted to do to me.”

“y/n, sweetheart, when will you be coming to visit us again? i know it’s your summer break right now and you’re busy but we thought it might be nice to go on a short family trip. what do you think?” your mother pleaded over the phone. you could see her pout on the screen, her attempt at guilt tripping you into visiting more. truthfully, you felt bad about not having been able to see your family so much - the amount of assignments and final exams was swamping you and you just wanted to get through them before going on vacation. that and the fact that you couldn’t properly look them in the eyes anymore ever since being with choso.

you just couldn’t let go of him, nor could you admit your feelings to him, in fear it would make him uncomfortable. it was irrational, reckless even, to keep paying for a service you technically didn’t need anymore. simply to keep a person you had feelings for around for longer. nobara and maki didn’t know about this either, you knew they would have your head as soon as you confessed. it was irrational and you knew it. and yet it was so hard to let go. with every waking moment, you craved choso, his tenderness and loving gaze, the warmth of his arms, the domesticity that the two of you shared, how natural it seemed when you spent time together. and so you kept returning to him, over and over again

“i’m sorry, mum, i’m just really busy right now. but i promise i’ll let you know when i’m free, okay? i’m sure we can find a fitting date for the trip,” you attempted to soothe your mother, giving her an apologetic smile. she rolled her eyes at you playfully but shrugged it off, knowing that you didn’t mean anything by it. before you could tell her goodbye, your mother suddenly stopped you, waving at the screen.

“sweetheart, one of my friends- her son, i told him about you. he’s a very nice young man and i think you would get along well. when you come visit us, i’ll introduce him to you, yeah?” she explained, a giddy smile creeping onto her lips. “i’ve told him a little about you and your father doesn’t mind either. he has a good background too, i’m trying not to swoon.” she giggled as if she was the one who was to be set up on a date with him.

your eyes widened ever so slightly at her revelation but what shocked you more was that choso had seemingly heard what your mother had said. he was still sleeping when your mother had called you, so you hid in the kitchen to talk, not wanting to disturb his sleep. he stood in the doorway, blinking at you confused. you made sure to turn a little so your mother couldn’t see him. “mum, i told you i’m not really interested yet and want to go at my own pace-”

“honey, i know but the opportunity was just there. i couldn’t pass it up and you can still reject him, no? just try to meet him at least once.”

you sighed. “we’ll talk about it again when i’m home, okay? but don’t put too much hope in it, please.”

“i know, i know. i’ll talk to you again another day. love you, sweetheart,” your mum said goodbye to you and hung up. you groaned, tossing your phone to the side and buried your face in your hands. choso was not supposed to hear any of that. even though you two weren’t really in a relationship, and he had assured you that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, keeping his work at accompanying clients only, you still felt like you were somewhat betraying him. you felt choso’s presence moving behind you, then his arms wrapping around you, his chin being placed on your head. you couldn’t see the slightly irritated look in his eyes, the jealous glint that told you he didn’t want you to look at anyone but him.

“your mum seems to be eager to find you a partner,” he commented amused. you groaned, swatting at his arm.

“i don’t know why they’re suddenly so persistent after not deeming anyone as suitable for years,” grumbling, you turned slightly, pressing a kiss to choso’s chin. “i’m not really in the mood to go on dates just yet, so she’ll have to deal with it.”

“not in the mood for dates?” choso echoed, pinching your cheek. “not even with me?”

you whined, burying your face in his chest. you didn’t want to let him see how his words excited you. “no, i’m always in the mood for you, for dates with you.”

“that’s good to know. we’re going out later after all,” choso laughed, combing his fingers through your hair. “i did promise to take you to the beach and teach you how to surf.”

one of the reasons you didn’t come visit your parents immediately when your summer break began was because you’d already planned a short trip with choso. weeks ago choso had proposed you’d go to the beach together and you were thrilled by the idea, not having been by the sea in years. you’d rented a little cabin by the beach for the two of you while choso had prepared everything for the car ride. the car ride would be rather long but you weren’t worried about it at all - in the beginning, you’d been apprehensive, rather awkward with him. he eased you into everything, showing you not to be scared of relationships and to just be yourself. conversation was easy with him as if you’d been long term friends, with no worries or restrictions. for weeks, you’d looked forward to the trip, to spend more time with him.

the car ride was filled with laughter and calming music, you shared stories and secrets with each other, you fed him the snacks that you’d made the night before. you felt blissful, happily ignoring all the consequences that might be coming your way - you wanted to enjoy your time with him as much as you could. the dance that the two of you were engaging in, it was romantic and felt so domestic, while skirting around the important issue. inspecting your intertwined hands, you clasped your other free hand around his, rubbing the skin gently. choso shot you a concerned, questioning look but you brushed him off, assuring that nothing was wrong. “i’m just happy to be sharing this uh… boyfriend experience with you, really. i wouldn’t wanna do it with someone else.”

choso shot you a wistful smile, lifting your hand to press a kiss on it. “i’m glad you feel that way. you deserve only the best, someone who treats you like the princess that you are.”

the feeling of the grainy sand below you, wind blowing your hair in every direction, sun on your skin, water splashing against your shins - you felt like suddenly all your worries were washed away. you were still running through the shallow water, giggling as you saw choso catching up on you. upping your speed, you jumped through the water until he managed to grab you by your wrist, pulling you into his chest. he lifted you up, twirling you around in his arms a few times before setting you back on your feet, leaning in to kiss you. “you can’t just run away like that, all our stuff is still stranded over there,” he scolded you, playfully flicking your forehead. you glanced behind you, seeing how choso had already placed all the towels, cooler and bags on the beach chairs.

“it’s okay, we have the beach to ourselves anyways,” you retorted cheekily. choso couldn’t argue, instead rolled his eyes. the beach house that you had rented for the weekend was on the outskirts of the city, a rather quiet spot that also had a private beach. the paranoia that your parents might possibly spot you somewhere was running deep and so you didn’t want to risk anything. choso could teach you how to surf in peace, without any bystanders or crowded spaces. but now that you were sitting on the beach chair, you noticed that choso’s mind seemed to be elsewhere as he clumsily fumbled with the bags. you gnawed at your bottom lip, hoping that your earlier conversation with your mother wasn’t on his mind.

“you okay there? can i help you with anything?”

“huh? yeah,” choso answered after a second of processing, shaking his head. “uh i just get distracted looking at you. you look good in that bikini.”

“oh shut up,” you retorted but hid your face from him, still growing bashful even though you were used to him complimenting you out of nowhere. he shot you a wink, resuming his work. “but… choso, you can talk to me if anything bothers you, you know that?”

“yeah, i know… but don’t worry, i think this is something i have to figure out for myself first before i tell anyone,” he padded over, kissing your forehead. “but i appreciate it.”

deciding to drop the topic, you joined him, watching how he demonstrated his surfing skills. if he didn’t want to talk about it, you would respect it; and maybe, just maybe, he would open up to you about it. you watched as choso surfed through the waves, the sight filling you with bright happiness. he looked so happy to be surfing again, the usual tired look on his face wiped away as if it had never been there in the first place. he looked like he was truly at home, comforted and surrounded by the crashing waves. you understood what he meant by being distracted - choso looked good in his trunks as well, the water drops that were rolling down his body, his exposed upper body, the way his loose, slightly damp hair was falling over his face. you very much enjoyed the sight and almost felt creepy for staring so much.

as per usual, choso was a wonderful teacher, remaining calm and patient while he gave you instructions, comforting you when you weren’t doing so well and was always right by your side encouraging you. you hadn’t had this much fun in a while, especially not with someone other than from your close friend circle. it was easy to lose the track of time when being with him, all your thoughts and anxieties washed away like the seashells at the shore. by the end of the day, you were utterly exhausted, your muscles feeling like jelly. as you laid on the bed, you still felt like you were rocked and swayed back and forth by the waves. it was relaxing, almost lulling you into a deep slumber if it wasn’t for the sound of the running shower and choso’s humming. you opened the window, before returning to bed, wrapping the blanket around you. the sound of waves sloshing against the shore echoed through the room, making you feel like you were actually sleeping at the beach.

it didn’t take long for choso to return; you felt the bed dip beside you before you heard him. pretending to be asleep, you waited until he said anything but were instead greeted with a kiss on your nape. you squirmed a little, the feelings of his lips tickling the sensitive skin. a giggle broke from your lips, unable to stay silent any longer. “did i make you wait for too long?” he asked quietly, grabbing you by the hips to turn you around to face him. you shook your head and gave him a smile, leaning in to peck his lips. “no but i did miss you. did i tell you that i now get what you meant by being distracted? you looked really hot in your trunks and so serious while giving me instructions.”

“ah, really?” choso hovered over you, placing his hands beside your head. you’d only offered simple compliments but he was already so fired up, making you grin. “you can’t just tell me that and expect me not to do anything. don’t you know that i’m always hungry for you? i’ll ravish you right here.”

“what if i want you to ravish me?” you bravely retorted, your voice slightly cracking at the end. rarely were you ever bold with him but at this moment, you might as well indulge him. as an reward for teaching you how to surf and being so patient about it. choso clicked with his tongue, pleased with your reply. before he could move, you suddenly felt an urge to go further, wanting to be the one to initiate intercourse for once. you placed your hands on his chest, pushing gently. he looked at you confused, cocking his head to the side. if it wasn’t for the hungry look in his eyes, you would’ve cooed at how adorable he looked. “uhm can i… suck you off for today? i mean you’re always the one who- who makes me feel so good and i know you said you liked it but i just wanted to return the favour…”

choso short circuited at your request, momentarily leaving his mouth wide open as he stared at you. “y- yeah of course, if that’s what you want,” he spluttered hastily, sitting up on his knees. feeling giddy, you shuffled off the bed, positioning yourself at the edge of the bed and waiting for him to move. choso gulped, slowly moving towards the edge. he leaned down to kiss you, your hands snaked towards the waistband of his sweatpants, some doubt overcame you again, slowing your movements. sensing your hesitation, he patted your head and ruffled your hair. “you don’t have to do it, if you feel too nervous about it.”

“no, i want to, really,” you assured him, grasping the waistband and dragging it down. choso lifted his hips slightly, helping you remove his pants. his boxers followed soon after. gently, you wrapped your hands around his semi-hard cock, giving it some gentle strokes. choso exhaled shakily, leaning back on his hands as he kept his watchful eyes on you. you leaned in, flattening your tongue against the underside, running your tongue over the underside, tracing it until you reached the cockhead. gingerly, you gave it a few kitten licks before wrapping your lips around it. hands still stroking him, you delved in, taking as much as much as you could. choso tilted his head back, moaning loudly. it spurred you on, eagerly you bopped your head against him, paying close attention to the sensitive head as you licked and sucked at it. curiously, you licked the slit, tasting the precum on it. the taste was unfamiliar, nothing like you’d ever had before but you weren’t sure what to make of it. but you weren’t grossed out by it, thankfully.

choso’s hips jerked when you touched a particularly sensitive spot, not being able to control his own body anymore. usually, he was more composed, holding himself back for the sake of you - immediately, he stopped and apologized, staring at you with wide eyes. “fuck, i’m so sorry, that wasn’t meant to happen. did i hurt you?” he cupped your cheek, guiltily examining you.

“‘m okay, don’t worry about it. it just surprised me a little, that’s all. but if it’s what you like… i uh, don’t mind,” you reassured him.

“f- fuck, you can’t just say that because i will and-”

“like i said, i don’t mind. i want to make you feel good too.” reluctantly, choso nodded and relaxed again, letting you proceed. you were eager to make him cum, enthusiastically moving your head along the shaft. you welcomed choso’s shallow thrusts, glancing up to watch his reactions. his skin was beautifully flushed, eyes were closed, groans muffled as he bit his bottom lip. you struggled to take his cock in deeper, instead wrapping your hands around the parts you couldn’t reach. when choso’s thrusts got sloppier, you could tell that he was getting close.

“y/n, fuck- i’m gonna- wait, you-” unable to finish his sentence, he moaned, hips stuttering again as you swirled your tongue around the sensitive tip. you suckled on his length eagerly, hands pumping the base faster and choso couldn’t keep it in any longer, coming with a loud moan. you continued suckling on the tip, helping him through his orgasm until he’s spilled all of him in your mouth. sitting back on your knees, you removed yourself from him.

eyes wide and glossy, you looked up at him as he pulled away slightly so he could look at you. choso brushed your hair back, then lifted your chin up, tapping your bottom lip. "show me," he said in a low, hoarse voice, patiently waiting until you opened your mouth and showed him. showed him his cum that was still pooling on your tongue. a few seconds passed until he finally reacted - just the sight of you on your knees, obediently following his orders and showing him your work had his insides stirring with something dark, possessive. "swallow," he whispered, adoringly cupping your cheek as you eagerly swallowed. your face felt hot, whether by embarrassment or pride, you didn't know. quietly cursing, he pulled you up while leaning down, meeting your lips halfway.

unceremoniously, choso dropped you on the bed, making you giggle quietly as you bounced on the mattress. hovering over you, he captured your lips in yet another kiss. you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him to your body. choso pressed his groin against yours, experimentally rolling his hips to elicit a reaction from you. burying your face into the crook of his neck, you couldn’t help but writhe from the pleasure - and even though you’ve been sleeping with each other, you still felt too shy to ask him for… more. how could you express what exactly you wanted when you were craving all of him? when you wanted to engrave everything into your brain; the feeling of his body against yours, his touch, the sweet as well as the dirty words he whispered into your ear. it was almost unfair how easily he could draw a reaction from you, as if he’d memorized every little aspect about you already.

choso nipped at your neck, about to leave a mark when you frantically pushed at his chest. “no visible marks, i told you!” you reminded him, almost feeling bad when you saw his disappointed face. but rules were rules, you didn’t want your parents to find out you were sneaking around with someone; you were barely able to look into their eyes as is. he huffed against your neck, burying his face in the crook of your neck in frustration. seconds passed without a reaction before he finally sat up on his knees, hands reaching out to tug on your shirt. “but everywhere else is fine, hm?” he mused, dragging his warm hands across your chest to your shoulder to push the fabric off.

“i- i guess,” you spluttered, barely having any time to react as he’s already moved on, lavishing your breasts with kisses while leaving a trail of hickeys on them. you whimpered, hips rolling up against his. through your panties, you could feel the outlines of his cock; the anticipation of him filling you up made you salivate. choso was quick to remove your panties and rolling a condom on upon hearing your desperate whimpers that were urging him to move faster. no matter how many times you’d already slept together, he could never get enough of you - you made him feel like a teenager again, like he was constantly insatiable and hungry for you. judging from the look in your eyes, you seemed to feel the same way.

choso angled his cock against your entrance before sinking in, moaning in unison with you. he grasped your hands, pinning them against the pillows as you reached out, trying to touch him. you sobbed in disappointment, just wanting to feel him but choso was having none of it. the complaint was quickly forgotten when he started thrusting, the sound of his hips smacking against yours filling the room. he was diligent, hitting that spot inside you over and over again, enjoying how your legs that were wrapped around his waist were trembling. you were drowning, drowning in him, in the pleasure he so graciously provided you. choso painted your chest with marks, placing them dangerously close to where they would be peeking out underneath clothes. he knew you didn’t want anyone to see them but fuck, he wanted people to keep their hands away from you, wanted them to know that you were his.

you sung his praises, hips quickly bucking against his as he buries himself in you to the hilt. he filled you up so well, always dragging against your walls so deliciously. almost feral, choso fucked you harder, putting all his frustrations and emotions into the strength of his thrusts. it left you feeling breathless, clenching around him hard as you climbed higher and higher. never had choso fucked you like this before, like he was trying to prove something - you sobbed, tears springing forth from the intensity. it felt good, so good and you wanted to cum so bad, wanted to release. the pleasant warmth was spreading throughout your body, almost unbearably hot as you neared your climax. it erupted within you explosively, leaving you writhing in a babbling, incoherent mess. for many moments, your orgasm wrecked through you, making you see white and stars. in your euphoria, you didn’t notice how choso had cummed with you, whispering sweet praises in your ear as he rode you through your high. you didn’t notice how he disappeared, returning with a wet towel as per usual, how he kisses away the tears at the corner of your eyes. through your hazy mind, you could tell that he wrapped the blanket around you before disappearing again.

it took you a while to return back to your senses, marvelling about the sex you just had. what had possessed choso in that moment? could it be because you’d offered to suck him off? or was he so pent up the entire day? the click of the door made you lift your head towards the source of the sound, cooing when you saw choso padding towards you. he yawned quietly, crawling under the blanket and wrapping his arms around you. "exhausted?" you questioned him, nuzzling into him.

"mhmm, i feel like i could sleep in until noon tomorrow," as usual, he ran his fingers along your spine, drawing shapes on your back. sometimes you thought you could feel him spelling something out on your skin but the touches were always so fleeting that it was impossible for you to make it out. whatever it was, he must've been too wary or scared to share it with you. you were reminded of your earlier conversation - choso still hadn't said anything so you wanted to bring it up, not wanting any issues to arise between you.

"choso? do you want to talk about what was wrong earlier? i know you said you wanted to think about it, but i was wondering…"

choso interrupted you. "are you going to go on a date with the guy that your mum mentioned this morning?"

you shot him a bewildered look. so he had been thinking about it. you hesitated, not sure what to tell him. should you be upfront and tell him how you feel? or give him a mild version, so he didn't feel cornered by you?

"i'm… i'm not sure yet. the thought of going on a date with someone else is kind of daunting but i think i'll do it just so my mum's happy."

"i see." uncomfortable silence seeped between the two of you. you could tell that choso was irritated, the frown on his face clearly indicating it. and yet, he didn't elaborate, leaving you to figure out what he meant by that. not daring to move, you stayed still, waiting for him to continue. choso sighed, placing his forehead against yours. "i think this is selfish of me but i can't stand the thought of seeing you with someone else. i wish… i wish it was only me that you looked at."

"you don't want me to go on a date with him?"

"yeah. i- i can't tell you why that is. it's selfish and dumb, hence why i didn't want to tell you. and it's not something that you should worry about. i'm just your escort after all, there's nothing more between us."

his words stung. even though it was the truth, the words still stung, driving a knife right into your heart. it was the very thing that nobara and maki had warned you about. but here you were, heart breaking in a million pieces. perhaps it was the fact that choso didn't tell you the reason, didn't seem to trust you with it, that made you recoil immediately. the walls around your heart were immediately put back into place, safeguarding you from any further harm. he wasn’t obligated to tell you anything and you knew that - there was probably also another reason why he felt that way. any further digging would probably make him recoil as well, it wouldn’t do you any good. whatever was growing between you, it had to stop now. choso simply saw you as a client, probably had been this entire time. again, you were reminded of the fact that he might have been acting this entire time, none of the affection he showed you ever being real.

“i- yeah… i guess,” you replied dejectedly, looking away from him. “i’ll figure it out with him, don’t worry. i’ll just keep my mum happy with it, there’s nothing more to it.”

choso bit his lip, refraining from replying to it any further. you already knew more than you were ever supposed to, he should have never let it slip that he didn’t like seeing you with other potential love interests. it pained him to keep this hidden, keep it a secret from you - but the less you knew, the better. he couldn’t imagine you being okay with being in a relationship with him while he was still an escort, nor did he think that your parents would be thrilled about it. from what you’d revealed to him, he could tell that they treasured you and wanted to minimize any possible harm as much as possible. and that included hand-picking a suitable partner for you. he might never be what your parents envisioned for you and he might never become your love interest so every session that you booked was a blessing to him.

sighing, he placed one last kiss on your cheek before wishing you a good night. but even when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, he was wide awake, not being able to stop the onslaught of thoughts.

weeks passed without you ever contacting choso again. your resolve would have never been this strong, hadn’t nobara intervened. while you were moping and still feeling restless, helpless even, she made sure to delete his number and made you take care of the bills before cutting off contact entirely. normally, she would have commented on it - but seeing how you were struggling through your first heartbreak, she decided to let it be. and because maki wouldn’t have hesitated to have her head if you’d ever snitched. maki had encouraged you to take your mind off things, dragging you along to some of the sports classes she attended. it did lift your mood ever so slightly, much to your surprise, it was more fun that you’d originally anticipated. maki attended so many different classes that seemed so intense that you were scared to join at first. in between the classes, you spent more time with your friends. gradually you opened up to them, explaining them the entire issue with choso and how you had struggled to let go. you told them one by one, until it was finally time to let megumi know.

out of everyone, megumi scared you the most - not because he was intimidating or violent but because you knew how he would react. he’d most definitely be upset about it because he was protective over his friends, not wanting them to be harmed in any way. you’d pleaded that at least nobara should tag along to knock some sense into him, should he snap - but megumi’s reaction surprised you. when you finished your story, he was awfully quiet. you assumed he was boiling in anger, reaching out to appease him but he was frowning, making a contemplative face. “uh listen, i think that choso’s yuuji’s brother.”

“he’s what?” nobara’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. megumi had recently started going out with someone that he’d met during work and though he hadn’t introduced you to said person yet, you did know that his name was yuuji.

“yuuji’s brother. i haven’t met him yet but he’s been complaining about his brother for weeks now,” megumi explained, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “choso’s an escort, right? it has to be yuuji’s brother. i’ve stayed over at yuuji’s place a couple of times… yuuji was venting, asking me about advice on how to get his brother out of a rut. apparently, choso’s been affected by this uh… somewhat breakup as well. yuuji’s suggested to him that he should reach out to you to talk but he said something about his work and your parents...”

“huh. what an interesting coincidence…” nobara mumbled but narrowed her eyes at you. “but you’re not going back to him, right?”

all the blood in your body froze. why had choso brought up your parents? they had never been a part of your relationship, you had only told him how overprotective they were and how they liked choosing your partners and friends for you. could it be?

“no, i don’t think so. i’m… very conflicted about our feelings to each other. it was stupid to give into my feelings for him in the first place. i hired someone to act as my fake boyfriend, someone who does this for a living. i think they know better than to catch feelings for their clients,” you sighed frustrated, shaking your head. there was no way in hell this situation could ever turn back around, even if you now knew that choso had also been affected. and still, he never reached out to me, you thought bitterly.

“i think you should talk it out though, if he does reach out to you,” megumi chimed in, awkwardly patting your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “from what yuuji’s told me, it does seem like his feelings are genuine. he didn’t outright push you away, right? who knows what could happen?”

in the end, you couldn’t help but confess to your parents. secrets were bound to be revealed one way or another and you figured it was better you opened up before they found out from someone else. the uncomfortable silence that spread through your apartment created a gloomy atmosphere; the tension was thick and palpable, making you shuffle in your seat in unease. your father hadn’t uttered any word while your mother had completely lost it, not understanding why you hadn’t instead chosen one of the boys she’d always introduced you to.

“all this time you were seeing this boy? and not once did you let us know. i could have asked my friend if they knew someone, their sons are so nice-”

“mum, i already told you i wanted to find someone on my own without having my options being presented to me on a silver plate. and you’re always so disappointed when i end up rejecting them after going through all of the hassle,” you interrupted her, giving her a defiant look. it wasn’t often that you opposed your parents like this but you felt like it was needed - your mother didn’t understand you, nor did she try. you were an adult, for fuck’s sake. you were very much capable of making your own decisions and mistakes to learn from.

“and yet you went to hire an escort! why didn’t you go and meet some of your classmates? i don’t understand why you went such lengths and then even ended up falling in love with them! how would you even pursue a relationship with them?” your mother seethed at you, knuckles blanching from how hard she was gripping her handbag. your father placed a hand on hers, whispering some soothing words in her ear.

“darling, i think y/n knows well that she’s made a mistake and is hurting from it. we don’t need to add to the stress, do we?” he assured her, then looking at you. “y/n, you know that i’m disappointed in you as well. but i don’t blame you for it, i think it’s partly my fault that you felt the need to hire an escort just to… gain some experience. i did take away all your possibilities of a relationship after all…”

“don’t encourage her! this problem won’t just be solved by you spoiling her again, do you know what kind of consequences it could h-”

a loud knock interrupted your mother’s rambling. you were confused - you didn’t expect anyone else for today. it was too late for someone to bring packages. who could it be? you excused yourself, padding towards the door to see who it was. you swore that you briefly suffered from a heart attack when the door swung open to reveal choso. he stared at you equally as stunned, seemingly not having expected you to open and greet him. “w- what are you doing here?” you asked, hating how shaky your voice sounded. how your heart soared, having missed his presence around you. the feelings had never been properly buried, only hidden by a thin layer of pretense that was now quickly being washed away.

“i’m sorry for just turning up unannounced… i was hoping- hoping to be able to talk to you for a bit? i wanted to explain myself,” choso replied, unaware of the two persons in your apartment that were straining their necks to be able to get a look at him.

you groaned. why now? the timing was just too comical, fate must really hate you. “i’m sorry, my parents are here right now. maybe, another t-”

“aha, so this is the boy my daughter has been sleeping with,” your mother appeared behind you, snarling at choso maliciously. panicking, your father had followed her quickly, holding her back by her arm. “you have some nerve appearing here as if nothing happened, what is it that you-”

“darling.” your father cleared his voice, shooting daggers at her. “there’s no need to be rude.”

swiftly, he introduced himself and your mother to choso, politely shaking his hand. choso remained calm, as usual, and introduced himself as well. if he was shocked by the entire ordeal, he sure didn’t show it. his face remained a perfect poker face, no emotions seeping through. “i wanted to talk to your daughter, ma’am. i assume she’s told you about our relationship and how we broke apart. there is no ulterior motive here, i just wanted to explain myself and talk it out.”

“that’s-!”

your father interrupted your mother again, not giving her another opportunity to spit venom at choso. “i think that is a good idea. though she has not opened up about everything, i can tell that she is hurting as much as you are. i believe a discussion would be very productive. but what is your intention? what are you going to do once you’ve explained yourself?”

suddenly, you felt like you were forgotten or invisible in the entire discussion. were they ignoring you? you were standing right there and yet no one was addressing you. you huffed, trying to pull their focus back on you. “nothing’s gonna happen, dad. there was nothing for us to work with and there won’t be.”

choso felt like he’d been slapped. he didn’t know what to make of your reaction but he came here for one reason only: to give you the closure that you deserved and he wasn’t going to leave until he accomplished just that. “i intend to apologize to her. judging from your wife’s reaction, you don’t seem to like me very much. i can’t imagine you would ever accept me, i know i don’t live up to your standards. i don’t deserve your daughter, she deserves so much more than what i can offer. and i’m aware of it. but if she’s willing to have me, i’ll try my very best to live up to your standards, to prove myself to you. i just want to be with her and make her happy. i’m in love with her and that’s what i intended to tell her.”

your heart stopped at his confession. all this time, choso loved you? megumi had been right all along. choso returned your feelings and he was here, so close and yet so far. dread filled you as you realized your parents could possibly drive him away, make him disappear from your life with just a snap of their fingers. you cherished choso more than you were aware of, the adoration running deep in your veins even when you were trying to reject him.

“i see. that’s reason enough for me. we’ve already let her have a piece of our mind, i don’t think she needs more telling off. my little girl has grown so much and it’s time to let her make her own decisions, growing and mistakes,” your father shot your mother a look. she’d calmed down, choso’s explanation seemingly having brought her back to her senses. she looked away, not wanting to look him in the eyes. “we’ll let you deal with this. but know that if she does take you back, i won’t go easy on you, alright? the bars are high and i don’t intend to lower them just because you love her. prove to me, that you’re worthy of her.”

“i will,” choso sounded so sure and confident that it made your father grin - you sure had found someone who took great care of you and wasn’t afraid to stand tall in front of your father. and that he liked, someone who wasn’t scared to back down from a challenge, someone who would be the perfect partner for you. as your parents said goodbye and left, he gave choso a pat on the shoulder before exiting the apartment, leaving the two of you to your own devices.

you didn’t know what to say, how to start. standing in the hallway was awkward but you couldn’t move just yet, instead wanting to hear what he had to say first. “you love me?” you croaked, your voice failing you. now that your parents were gone, you could freely show your emotions, not being able to hold the tears back any longer. choso panicked, fussing over you as you started to cry. furiously, you wiped the tears away with the sleeves of your sweater.

“i do. i uhm wish i had found a better way to tell you this. i figured that you probably thought that everything we did was simply a facade but i promise you that it was all real. i don’t know when exactly but i started falling for you along the way and it was hard… to remind myself that you were a client and i was just there to provide the service to you, you know? i had no right to get mad at you if you decided to go and see other people. and i wasn’t sure of your feelings for me, it was…” choso trailed off, struggling to find the right word but you knew what he meant and nodded, signaling him to continue. “i just didn’t want to tie you to me when you… when you might not like me back or even want to be with an escort.”

you sniffled quietly, wrapping your arms around him immediately, with such a speed that it almost knocked the air out of his lungs. confused, choso wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and rubbing your back soothingly. he was relieved that you didn’t push him away at least and let him explain everything in one go. he felt more at ease now and was at peace with the decision to immediately leave and never butt in your life again in case you rejected him.

“all this time, i also loved you,” you mumbled, an upset frown on your face. “i- i just kept thinking that you’d never return my feelings and that you were just playing boyfriend because i hired you to do so and-”

you hiccuped, another sob tearing from your throat.

“when you told me not to go on that date and immediately followed it with you only being my escort and nothing more, it hurt me so much and i know it was stupid and childish of me to react in such a way but… i was just spiraling, i love you so much and didn’t know where to place the anxieties and negative feelings.”

choso shushed you quietly when your sobs grew more frequent and you let him pick you up, clinging onto him as he walked over to the couch and sat on it with you on his lap. “shh, you’re okay, we’re okay,” he mumbled against the crown of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’m sorry i hurt you so much, i was not aware that you already liked me back then and that my words would have such an effect on you.”

over and over, choso apologized quietly until you calmed down, slumping against his chest. you stayed silent, trying to piece your thoughts and feelings back together so as to present him with a coherent and logical question. your mind was in shambles and you hoped that choso would at least get what you were hinting at. “so w- what do we do now? where do we- we go from here?”

“as i’ve already told your dad… if you’ll have me, i’ll make it up to you, all the hurt that i’ve caused you. i love you, so much. i want to be your boyfriend, and this time officially.”

“i like the sound of it,” you mumbled, tilting your head back to look at him. “will you be my boyfriend?”

“it would be an honour, princess.”

with a kiss, choso sealed the deal, easily catapulting you back on cloud nine. who would have thought that the escort you’d hired to be your fake boyfriend would turn out to be the prince charming you had always hoped for, surpassing even your wildest dreams and expectations. choso was everything you wanted and more - he was the person you wanted to wake up to every morning, the person you wanted to come home to. he was the person with whom you wanted to spend your life with, the person that loved you so unconditionally and never expected anything in return. you were lucky that he chose you, that he loved you back. out of all the persons in the universe, it was him.

he was perfect and he was yours.

p.s.: if you've made it until the end: thank you so much for reading!

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bibblelevi · 3 years

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𝐅𝐨𝐫 @leviverse’s “𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞” 𝟓𝟓𝟓𝟓 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛:

Soccer Team Captain! Levi Ackerman x fem! Reader // Chapter One

Summary: Levi Ackerman becomes the youngest Captain of Trost University’s Division I soccer team. You’re studying to be a sports journalist. He knows you as the girl he’s been in English with all four years of high school. Then he knows you as the only girl to ever break his heart.

Content/Warnings: High school! AU (only for this chapter), emotional angst, unrequited crush (that’s not really unrequited), emotional angst, heartbreak, alcoholism, growing pains

Word Count: 11.1k

Author’s Note: Hi guys and welcome to part one of my new mini-series for Levi!! This is me experimenting with writing rom-com, so expect this series to have less smut. Also, I am by no means a sporty gal so please forgive me for any inconsistencies. Check out the series masterlist for more information on what Hey, Hemingway is going to be about so you’re aware of triggers beforehand! And lastly, thank you Claire for letting me participate in your collab - be sure to check out the masterlist and read the other participants work!

series masterlist | ao3 | buy me a coffee | next

SENIOR YEAR

Levi Ackerman is fast as hell.

That’s the first thing you notice about him.

The second? He’s fucking gorgeous. Black hair falls in coarse strands over his forehead, his nose is straight, his lips are rosy to match his flushed cheeks, and his pale flesh is ridden with muscle that ripples whenever he runs. A pair of black shorts with a 3” inseam cling to his thighs, hugging the strong and firm planes of muscle. Even his calves are carved out and nearly bulging out of his skin as his cleats slam down on the field. You want him to step on your neck with those exact cleats.

You’re pretty sure earlier you heard a few junior girls gush about how gorgeous the varsity players are, especially “that Levi Ackerman guy”, and you don’t disagree.

It’s the soccer semi-finals for the Shiganshina High School varsity soccer team, and Levi Ackerman is the Captain. You, with your crumpled up list of questions and half-broken recorder, are supposed to fill out this week's sports column for the Shiganshina Chronicle. You also don’t know shit about sports, and are only doing this because fucking Nifa dipped out for the sake of going out with some blue-eyed kid from your Government class. Now, here you are, thumbs up your ass, wondering how the hell a “foul” actually works.

Though, it’s not like soccer is that complicated of a sport.

The objective: Kick the ball in the other team’s goal.

The result: Everyone screams their heads off if you make it, or collectively groans when the goalie blocks the attempt.

Simple enough. At least, that’s how Levi makes it look.

You can’t blink when you watch him. If you blink, you’ll miss him. The sun beats down on his upper back, illuminating him as if the heavens are shining down on this God of an eighteen-year-old super-athlete. Admittedly, you think he’s the reason for your unexpected interest in this game.

It’s the way that he moves. Dribble. Kick. Pass. Capture. Kick, again. Goal.

Goal, goal, goal.

He doesn’t miss.

Shiganshina is up by ten. Karanes obviously doesn’t stand a chance in these final minutes.

Number twenty-two, a kid named Erwin Smith who you also know from your Government class, passes to Levi. Levi doesn’t even have to look down to know the patterned ball is at his toe. He just goes. He runs, swerving around an opponent, eyes narrowed ahead. Everyone is punching their fists into the ear, screeching his damn name at the tops of their lungs.

Levi kicks. Levi scores. The rowdy pack of animals behind you explode, and Mike, number eighteen, claps Levi right on the back. A grin slowly curls on your lips at the irritated scowl that immediately darkens his features like a heavy gray cloud. You’re pretty damn sure that signature scowl hasn’t evaded him since freshman year when you first saw him in English I.

And the only reason you know that for “pretty damn sure” is because, well… you find Levi interesting.

The buzzer groans obnoxiously loud but is overshadowed by the choir of overenthusiastic (and sweaty) freshmen. You just plaster a smile on your face and pretend like you know what’s going on.

Right, the interview. Nifa gave you a couple of pointers when it came to this integral part of the early evening.

Number one: Locate Hange Zoë. They’re the manager of the team, which means they should already know there’s a school journalist floundering somewhere about in the stands. It’s not uncommon for the athletes to be interviewed after games; it’s just more common for the STV kids to pre-record a segment for tomorrow’s morning announcements.

Honestly, no one fucking reads the Shiganshina Chronicle. You don’t even think that Pixis, who’s the teacher advisor of the club, reads it, either.

But, hey, it’s still something to put on the resume.

Anyway, number two: After Hange approves (and they will approve), you talk to a) the Captain, or b) the Officer, who mostly works alongside the Captain crafting plays and corralling the rowdy boys, or c) both.

(You pray for the third option.)

(Mostly because Levi is absolutely terrifying with that perpetual scowl, but you definitely don’t want him to know that you think that.)

Finally, number three: Ask the questions already prepared by Nifa herself that are currently crumpled up in the back pocket of your jeans.

Alas, you have a mission.

By the time you’ve broken free from the tiny hoard of freshmen waiting for their parents to pick them up, half of the bleachers have already been emptied out, and most students (mainly the juniors and seniors and some sophomores who want to feel included) are probably heading to Scouts for post-game grease and milkshakes with a side of nicotine.

You could go for a plate of fries.

Later, you remind yourself. Right now, you’re up and walking the edge of the bleachers, following the metal railings. The players are striding across the field, smacking hands with the opposing team in a display of good sportsmanship while you are surveying Shiganshina’s side for a certain person with glasses and a high ponytail up-do.

You know Hange. You had AP Chem with them until you dropped the class two weeks in and managed to squeeze into a Filmography course after gaslighting your counselor. But Hange still remembered your face every time you passed them in the hall, and they remembered your name, too.

Sure enough, squished between the Shiganshina coach and number eighteen, they’re standing with their arms folded, eyes squinted into half moons. They are thrilled about tonight’s win.

You shout their name and shoot your arm up in the air for the first time tonight, waving it aggressively as if that will catch their attention more than the sound of your voice. Still, they perk up after another deafening belt and turn around, instantly beaming at the sight of you.

They echo your name in response and jog over. You smile and crouch down while they bounce up on their toes to talk to you through the bars.

“No offense, but this is the last place I thought you’d be!” they chuckle, tilting their head.

You playfully roll your eyes. “Me too. Hey, I know Nifa usually does this, but she’s getting her face sucked off by Thomas at the theater off 38.”

Hange hisses, “No way! I mean, good for her. So, I imagine you’re here for the interrogation, then?”

Your eyebrows raise. “Yes. That’s right.”

“In that case, you may follow me, Detective.” Hange’s voice is laced with mirth as they gesture around the fence, and after a snort on your behalf, you’re hurrying down the steps and past the gates until you step onto the asphalt track. The rubber rims of your white converse are quickly smeared in black.

Hange begins leading the way, hands tucked in the pocket of their windbreaker.

“I imagine you’re looking for Levi? And Erwin?” they confirm.

You swallow, “Uhhh, yeah. Yeah, Levi. And Erwin.”

Levi. Le-vi You’re testing the name on your tongue to see if you like how it tastes, and your cheeks are warm because it’s embarrassing how much you enjoy it. Levi. God, does he really have to have such a cool fucking name? And it suits him, too. It’s always suited him. Levi for the kid with hair so black it almost looks navy beneath bright light. Levi for the kid with a sullen disposition.

You smile to yourself.

“Levi’s uh, a bit of an asshole, but he’s more like a kitten once you really get to know him,” Hange informs with a hint of caution. They tug on their collar. “Erwin will probably guide the conversation. Just remember not to take anything Levi says too seriously!”

Your brows pucker and suddenly you want to limit any and all interactions with Levi to four-person discussion groups in English class.

A few feet ahead of you, you see him. Sweat clings to the neckline of his shirt and to his back, and his black hair is slick across his forehead, the ends dripping in what you assume to be water sprayed from his water bottle. He dabs at his flushed cheeks with a clean towel, then tugs the hem off his shirt up and uses it to fan air against his very flat and very, very toned stomach.

You try to keep your mouth closed. Your fingers pale around the strap of your back instead.

When he looks up, you see a striking pale gray and a flash of recognition across his face.

Out of nowhere, Erwin slides in beside him, capturing his attention. He’s probably muttering some Captain-officer soccer business that you wouldn’t understand.

“Leviiii!” Hange sings excitedly, slinking into a sashay. Levi frowns like a muppet when they plant themselves in front of him, with you standing behind them, staring at the back of their shoulder rather than Levi or Erwin’s faces.

“What do you want, Four-eyes?” That deep, familiar voice that you hear muttering tangents during Socratic Seminars settles softly in your chest. You feel oddly at ease despite how fucking mean that nickname is.

Except, Hange just breaks out into a fond laugh. “The detective has a few questions to ask you guys.”

“Detect— “

You step out from behind Hange and awkwardly lift your hand in a half-hearted wave. Immediately after you’ve done so, you want nothing more than to recoil into yourself and never see the light of day again.

However, Erwin just barks your name in that rich tone made for politics. “We’re in Gov together. I didn’t know you wrote for the school paper?”

Your face settles into a softer, more relaxed expression. “Yeah! I’m covering for Nifa tonight.”

He makes a noise that alludes to his understanding, and says, “Well, we’re happy to help. Levi will cooperate.”

Levi, who still hasn’t said anything, shoots his blonde friend a pointed glare.

Hange leans in, cupping her hand over your ear so the boys can’t see what they’re muttering. “Actually, he’s more like a uh, feral cat who found his way into the dumpster only to realize there isn’t anything worth eating aside from a moldy can of tuna stuck to the very bottom.”

You lean in and respond, “That was very specific— “

“ —and not as quiet as you thought,” Levi finishes. His expression still hasn’t changed. You want to tell him he’s going to get wrinkles and that maybe he should invest in some Cera-ve or a sunscreen so—

“We can take a seat on the benches over there,” Erwin interrupts, lifting a finger to point towards a more secluded corner.

“Great idea! You kids have fun. Levi, please find me before you head home, and Detective— ” Hange meets your gaze. Your eyes open up expectantly, but they simply bring their fist to their heart in some mock salute you recognize from a show you watch. “Best of luck!” You’re gonna need it, they want to add.

You wave. “See ya.”

Levi watches them skip away. Dotingly, he murmurs, “Freak of nature.”

Erwin leads the three of you toward the quiet area with the bench and some scattered folding chairs. He sets one in place for you and takes a seat, Levi following in his footsteps.

“Just bear with me,” you hum, pulling out your notepad and a beat up recorder.

(Pixis insists that you use it because it’s a long-standing “tradition” amongst Shiganshina students who wrote for the paper in the past—but you mostly do it because he’s old and fragile and you’d feel terrible if you didn’t.)

“Do you guys mind if I record the convo? It’s just in case I need to dig back for some information later.”

“We do.”

Erwin laughs lightly, waving his hand. It’s a silent gesture to tell you to ignore his friend. “Not at all! Go ahead.”

Your eyebrows are raised as you look at Levi. His lips are pressed into a firm line and it seems like he’s wearing a perpetual scowl on his face that only ever seems to shift into one of concentration when he’s studying or on the field. You almost laugh. Almost.

“Right,” you huff. “Uh, okay, so you guys just won the semi-finals, which means you’re heading to State. Last year, Shiganshina only made it to the semi's before we lost. So, I guess I’ll ask the obvious: You planning on taking home a trophy in two weeks?”

“Yeah, if Oluo doesn’t—“

Another awkward laugh from Erwin cuts Levi off, and he grips the shorter man’s shoulder. “Absolutely! All the guys have been working really hard. Levi’s done a good job leading the team, and we’re just hoping to see all of that hard work pay off at State.”

You nod. “Yeah, I noticed the teamwork on the field. Everyone seems really close to each other. It’s a lot different from last year when Fritz punched Berner right across the jaw for making out with his girlfriend under the bleachers.”

“Who even cares?”

“It’s the team dinners every week!” Erwin exclaims. “Hange always organizes those. One of the guys gets to pick a place, and we all meet there just to hang out. It’s a lot of fun. Lots of inside jokes.”

Levi shakes his head.

“Oh, what’s your favorite place to eat?”

“Well, I know for a fact Levi loved Olive Garden! He stole a basket of breadsticks— “

“Erwin, you’d better shut your shitty mouth if you know what’s good for you.”

Your brows shoot upwards while a devious little grin begins to climb onto your lips. “Olive Garden, huh?” So that’s Levi’s vice.

“Isn’t this supposed to be an interview about the game?” he glares.

“Right, my bad. Serious question: Are you normally such a dick?”

Levi gapes at you, and you feel a burst of triumph in your chest knowing you’ve caught him off guard. He closes his mouth after a solid five seconds then slouches back in his seat as Erwin laughs into his palm.

“Maybe I am. And what about it?” he mutters. “That’s not very professional of you. Sports journalist woman. Whatever your name is.”

“We literally have AP Lang together. I have read probably fifteen of your essays since freshman year.”

“I have never seen you before in my life. Do you even go to this school?”

“No, I don’t, that’s why I’m sitting here, interviewing you for the Shiganshina Chronicle. Because I don’t go to this school.”

“Such a smart ass.” Levi huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

He comes to the rapid realization that he’s doing a terrible job at making a good impression. Not that he would care what anyone thinks of him. But you’re not “anyone”, are you? For some reason, he’s always wanted you to see him a certain way—the one girl who's been in every one of his English classes, who’s read plenty of his writing but hasn’t once critiqued any of it. Who just hands it back to him while forcing down a smile.

But every time something relatively nice lands on his tongue, he wants to shrivel up, so he says, in the most disinterested tone, “Ever heard of a joke, Hemingway?”

You’re silent for a moment before you reply. “That’s definitely not my name, but I think I’ll keep that information private for as long as I can. Self-preservation and all.”

“It’s definitely not private,” he replies. No, it’s definitely always typed perfectly in twelve-point, Times New Roman font, at the top left of every essay of yours he’s ever peer reviewed.

You ignore his response. “So, did everyone actually collectively vote for you to be Captain? I find that very hard to believe.”

“Of course everyone voted for me. Varsity soccer is a democracy.”

“Are you sure they weren’t all just too scared of you not to? Or maybe they were coerced.”

“You seriously think I coerced my team into voting for me as Captain? Actually never mind. Think what you want, Girl-who’s-writing-about-soccer-who-doesn’t-actually-know-anything-about-soccer.”

Erwin is gaping, unable to keep up with the swiftness of the banter. He continues to stare incredulously at Levi who’s being more of a grump than usual tonight. It’s rare for him to speak longer than two minutes at a time unless he’s teaching the team, so he wonders what exactly he’s stumbled upon.

“Hm, wait”—you tilt your head, blinking at the sky as if you're filing through your thoughts—“now that I think about it, you don’t seem like the type to talk that much. But maybe you just glared at them until they caved.”

“Hm, maybe I did. What are you gonna do about it?” he drawls. The sarcasm dripping from his words certainly doesn’t go amiss.

You bare an earnest smile. “I have you recorded, Cap. I can just expose you and all your dirty laundry!”

“To whom? The three people who read the school paper?”

Well. He’s got you there.

You groan, slouching back in defeat. “Fine. I surrender. You win this time. Now can we please just get through these interview questions? I’m missing the season finale of Riverdale for this.”

“Looks like we’re doing you a favor then,” Levi snarls.

Erwin scratches at the back of his neck. He seems a bit worn-down himself. “Ah, yes. Let’s get on with it. Levi,” his voice drops an octave lower, “be nice. Please, ask away, Hemingway.”

Ignoring the fact that Erwin seemed to pick up on Levi’s new and totally random (and fucking weird… but strangely endearing) “nickname” for you, you continue on with the prepared questions. They’re straightforward and good enough to write a cohesive article for a subpar high school journalism club. Somehow, Levi garners the strength to answer any questions geared towards him; short answers, to the point, lacking any embellishments or flowery language, just the way you like to hear it and write it.

You learn quickly that Levi is just as much of a hardass on himself as he is on everyone else on his team.

He does not take compliments. No, he blatantly and outright rejects them.

If Erwin commends Levi for his leadership, Levi grumbles something under his breath and sinks back into his seat with folded arms. If Erwin tells him his footwork was outstanding, he points out the two fragmental, itty-bitty errors he made and continues reworking the play in his head. You wonder what he sees behind those slate-gray eyes. You wonder what little universes exist within that noggin covered in soft-looking black hair.

He’s a perfectionist, you quickly deduce. And almost to a fault. You can tell because it takes one to know one.

The interview takes no more than ten minutes, and Erwin, ever the entrepreneur, shakes your hand. Then you remember this guy won DECA nationals last year. His more-than-firm handshake and piercing eye contact suggest he’s already a renowned CEO.

God, you only wish you could have that kind of experience. Or that kind of authority.

Levi, on the other hand, offers you an exasperated huff and a long, mostly blank stare. Oddly enough, you hold it, because making eye contact with Levi isn’t exactly something you’re unfamiliar with.

The two boys are courteous to walk you back to your car, until Erwin is ensnared by another girl from your Gov class.

That leaves you and Levi. Alone.

You can practically feel him brooding beside you.

“So, like…” You trail off, wracking your brain to fill the stretched silence. “What’s it like, thinking up plays in your head?”

Levi gives a “harrumph” and continues on walking. You just had to park all the way back in the furthest lot, didn’t you?

“I thought the interrogation was over.”

“Just making conversation, Cap,” you grumble.

Levi’s scowl only intensifies. “No need to. It’s not like you actually care, anyway,” he says, but his tone isn’t degrading or harsh. It’s said like he’s deep in thought about something. Maybe, about how he’s going to torture his teammmates before the upcoming match in two weeks. “Why ask people questions if you don’t care what they have to say.”

You shrug. “Good point. But for the record, I do care. Earlier, when you were talking about working with Hange to create plays for the team, I wanted to know how you do it. I don’t know why, but I just did. I still do.”

Levi can appreciate outright candor when he hears it. He contemplates, then sighs, jamming his cold fists into the pockets of his sweatshirt. “It’s nothing special, really. You kinda just… picture the field in your head and imagine your guys in their respective spots. You ever play chess?”

“Do I look like I’ve played chess.”

“You really do.”

You snort. “Fair enough. Carry on.”

He does, “It’s like… You need a strategy. Remembering your strongest players. Pairing them off with others who may cater to different strengths. Sometimes, they work well together, and it pays off later. Or you gotta move people around and see what fits…”

“Oh, I saw that,” you hum, sticking your hands up in surrender. You wave them rapidly. “Sorry to interrupt you!”

Levi is so close to smiling because that was one of the cutest fucking things he’s ever seen.

“It’s fine,” he utters. “What were you gonna say?”

You visibly relax, falling back into your slow stride beside him. A breeze brushes past the two of you and blows your hair over your shoulder so he can see the side of your face and watch your lips move as you speak.

“That last play. Erwin kicked the ball to you and you didn't even look down. Like you already knew the ball would be there in front of your feet,” you finish, and Levi swears he hears your tone going breathy, as if something so simple like that has impressed you.

“Oh,” he hums. “Yeah. It’s not actually a play. Erwin and I have played soccer together since… our whole lives.”

“Muscle memory,” you nod, understanding. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that Levi and Erwin are close friends. “Okay. What else?”

Levi considers for a moment, then continues, “You gotta anticipate the next move. So, let’s say I have one opponent coming straight for me. I lay out my options: Are they gonna steal the ball? How would they? Is there anyone else around me? An opponent I don’t know about? A teammate who I can pass to? Well, I know that Oluo, who plays forward, always makes himself open. He’s probably a safe bet,” Levi takes a breath and glances your way, surprised to see you aren’t staring off blankly. “But the most important part is to figure out their strategies. If we can do that, then we have the game.”

You listen, unaware of how you both have almost come to a stop amidst your conversation.

Levi’s been in a handful of your classes since freshman year. Perhaps you remember a little too well when he was a whopping 4’11” and already playing on the varsity team with his best friend, Erwin Smith. You remember he’s been number fifty-five since that same year.

You know that he hates being the center of attention. You also know that in every class you’ve had with him, he sits in the second row to the front, usually on the side of the classroom that has all of the windows because he prefers when the sun is glaring down on his back and warming him through his shirt.

A kitten, you remember Hange saying earlier.

You smile.

A feral dumpster cat, you also remember Hange saying.

You quickly wipe that smile off your face.

You know that, despite his reclusive and elusive behavior, everyone loves Levi. By default, he’s popular, because he’s Captain of the Varsity soccer team and has black hair and pretty eyes and all the girls love that about him. But it’s also easy to tell that he’s utterly indifferent towards it.

You’ve never had a conversation with him. Not a real one, at least. Only the group discussions in English class, because you have somehow ended up in the same class every single year together, so technically, they don’t count.

However, from said discussions, you know he hates classic literature. He thinks that Heart of Darkness was the grossest book ever written. He also hates formal essay writing (That, you discovered, because when you peer reviewed last year's final essay, his was written entirely in his voice: cynical, sardonic, pessimistic. And you laughed, because you thought it was fucking funny, and interesting, and you didn’t want him to change a single thing about it).

For someone who you rarely talk to, it’s a little jarring that you know him like this, and definitely a little stalker-ish, but when he talks, it feels like you’ve known him for ages. It makes you wonder if he knows you, too. He probably doesn’t. You’re probably just a creepy stalker who totally doesn’t have a fat fucking crush on him like every other girl in this school.

You suppose it’s just something about the guys you can never have.

“I’ve been doing stuff like that—going over shit in my head—for so long, that it’s second-nature now,” he says after a period of comfortable silence.

You laugh. “So, it’s like driving a car and subconsciously remembering to hit the gas, put on your turn signal, and check your mirrors, all at the same time?”

Levi freezes. “Yeah.” Oddly, his throat goes a little dry. “Yeah. That’s exactly it.” But also, you check your mirrors when you’re driving? Maybe he should start doing that, too.

You hum in understanding. “I get it. It’s kinda like writing, you know. Not completely. But it’s all about creating the image in your head. Coming up with questions and figuring out how to assemble the story. Reworking sentences over and over. Wanting it to be perfect.” You offer him a shrug. “Or not.”

Levi swallows the dryness, hoping to lubricate his throat. It doesn’t work. He feels like his tongue is weighing heavy in his mouth like a goddamn brick.

“No, it’s… kinda close, I guess.”

“Also, uh, I don’t know much about soccer or anything,” you add, waving your hand again. “I mean, you said as much. But normally, I write about things like, local events and stuff”—Levi nearly blurts I know that, too but bites his tongue—“and Nifa does the weekly sports column, but… I’m glad I came tonight. Honestly, I think you’re too hard on yourself.”

Shit, now he’s really going to choke on his tongue. He hopes you don’t notice the sudden falter in his steps, or the way his shoulders wilt as if you saying that to him has alleviated him of something heavy he’s been carrying for years. But he doesn’t say anything. He can’t. The thought of stringing together a coherent sentence makes him feel like he’s going to hurl.

“I mean, you really kicked the shit out of the ball, Levi. Scored all of those points for your team. So what, your footing was a little off? Doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to give yourself some credit. Like, yeah, it’s good to know for next time, especially so you don’t get injured, but still. You’re such a pessimist.” A throaty yet light noise shakes your shoulders, and Levi wonders why he loves the sound so much.

He shakes his head. “And what, you’re an optimist? Whatever. I’m just being a good example for my team. Mistakes are fine but shouldn’t be made twice.”

You roll your eyes, arriving at your car. As you fish your keys out of your pocket, they clatter onto the pavement.

Levi crouches down at the same time as you, accidentally brushing your fingers reaching for your keys. When you look up, surprised by the contact, your foreheads smack together and you fall directly onto your asses.

“Watch where you’re going!” He holds his head where it hurts, like his brain has been rattled in his skull.

And much to his surprise, you fucking laugh. A loud, obnoxious cackle, the same one as earlier, and he just can’t bring himself to frown at you. So it feels a little weird when his forehead smooths over and his rosy lips part. His eyes glaze over, and yours seem to catch the leering lights in the parking lot.

“Sorry, sorry,” you continue to giggle, standing up from the ground. You dust the gravel off your pants and slap your hands together until your palms are clean. When they’re spotless, you extend a hand.

Reluctantly, he reaches up and takes it.

Your hand is warm folded around his. He feels the pad of your thumb digging into the smooth skin, brushing one of his knuckles. There are a few rings stacked on some of your fingers. Too many to count, with weird patterns and crystals and varying thickness to them.

Levi hates holding hands. Girls who like him just grab him and touch him, and they don’t even ask. They don’t reach out, and see if he will take it.

He realizes quickly: you have nice, warm hands. And their weight feels perfect held in his own.

“Well, thanks for walking me to my car!” You unlock the door and slide inside. It happens so quickly that he has to blink twice. He’s still dizzied from touching you.

Tomorrow is a Friday. He has AP Language at 12:14 p.m., and he will see you there, like he always does. He wonders what you will wear. He wonders if your hair will be up or down.

He nods. “Yeah. You didn’t really need it.”

Your car revs to life. Music starts to play gently. Levi instantly recognizes the song over the speaker because he listens to it all the time in his headphones.

Something weird festers in the pit of his stomach. He’s warm all over, too. Maybe he’s getting sick. He has felt a bit odd all evening, ever since Hange brought you over. Maybe you got him sick. That has to be it—your close proximity got him ill and he should definitely stick to watching you from afar to avoid catching it again.

“Get home safe!” you tell him, and then you’re gone.

Levi stands in the gravel. He slowly makes his way back to the stadium and finds that Erwin is still talking to that girl from Gov. As soon as the blonde sees him, he bids goodbye and jogs over.

“Everyone is heading to Scouts! Want to drive together? My treat?”

Everyone sure loves that greasy diner in the heart of town. Levi’s positive that the diner definitely hates everyone else.

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t feel well. I’m just gonna have Kenny pick me up.”

He feels a hand on his shoulder. “She’s nice, isn’t she?” Oh great, Erwin’s talking in his soft voice like he’s the gentle giant or some ridiculous shit, which means he’s trying to gauge a sensitive topic with Levi that often goes unspoken between the two.

“Huh? Oh yeah, Hemingway?”

Erwin chuckles. “You know her name is—“

“I know her name, Erwin.”

Of course he knows your name. How could he not?

When Levi gets home that night, he’s at his desk, cranking out the last few discussion questions for 1984. There’s going to be a Socratic Seminar next week, and he fucking hates public speaking when he’s forced to do it, so the more preparation means the less likely he is to make an utter fool out of himself.

In his headphones, he’s listening to the song that came up on your Bluetooth earlier that night.

Back when he walked you to your car.

Since he got home, he’s felt less sick. But there’s still this feeling in his stomach. It’s something akin to the static of a television set on the wrong channel. Or Rice Krispies when you drench them in milk. And he thinks that his heart has maybe changed channels too, or something like that, because he swears it isn’t thumping the same as it was before. The pattern is all discombobulated and unfamiliar and just not right. It’s like he has to relearn how to breathe again.

Is it panic? No. He knows what a panic attack is, and this isn’t it.

Whatever is it—if it doesn’t fucking stop soon, it’s going to put him in a bad mood.

Distracted, he pulls out his phone. The purple icon for Instagram sits on the last page of his screen, mostly because he rarely ever uses it.

There’s one single picture, or two. It’s of him and Erwin at last year’s semi’s. Erwin beams at the camera, and Levi stares straight-faced, brow crinkled in irritation. When he swipes, a second picture appears. Again, him and Erwin, but this time, ten years younger at their very first soccer game together. Erwin smiles. Levi looks a little less pissed off than he does in the first picture.

There’s a little blur in the top right corner where his mother’s finger accidentally entered the lens.

For the little time he spends on social media, he somehow garnered a whopping eight hundred followers. Most of them are girls from school who he has never spoken to, in just about every grade level, and others are guys he’s played soccer with over the years, club and school alike.

He’s mastered the art of hiding all of his tagged photos so no one can go searching for anything to use against him.

He chalks it up to blatant curiosity as his thumbs twiddle, typing in your name to his Followers tab. Sure enough, the little icon that pops up beside your username is your face.

There it goes. Thump, thump, thump. A new, new rhythm, different from earlier. God, his heart is far too skittish and all over the place. What if this is an early sign of a heart attack? Should he call Erwin? Tell Kenny? He’s probably passed out downstairs on the couch anyway.

Amidst his panic, he taps on your name. Your profile fills his screen to each corner, and he feels a little dirty for looking even though you follow him and it's a completely public profile. Still, he can’t help but wonder if this classifies as stalking. Maybe it’s because he’s never crossed this bridge before.

There’s only eleven photos posted on your account, but all of them consist of tiny galleries in themselves. Some are of scenery and sunsets. Sometimes they’re your outfits, pictures of Nifa, or plants you see, or interesting things you find in public that you feel inclined to share for whatever reason. As he scrolls down, he sees a portrait of you. A black leather jacket flares out near your hips and there’s a smile plastered on your glossy lips. Beside you is a grown man. He looks like you. It’s probably your father.

Levi thinks he’s seen too much. He goes to swipe out and accidentally double taps the screen. A giant red heart appears in the center of the picture.

He wants to die.

“Shit, shit— “

He successfully unlikes then unsuccessfully relikes the picture. He does it a total of three times before he gives up and slams his face into his desk. The spot on his forehead where he accidentally knocked yours throbs dully.

Somewhere, a few neighborhoods away, you’re glancing down at your phone screen, bright light blinding your eyes when the notification pops up.

@captainlevia liked your photo.

You just bust out laughing.

Levi hates these Socratic Seminars.

It’s where all the “smart” kids hog the entire conversation by regurgitating whatever the last “smart” person said, making it nearly impossible for anyone else to add on or gain any points from the discussion.

You’re the only exception. Or maybe Levi just likes the sound of your voice and that’s why it doesn’t bother him to hear you talk about boring stuff.

But what does bother him, is when the “smart” kid doesn’t let you talk.

It’s been twenty minutes of you trying to say something insightful and this one kid interrupting you, pretending like he’s the one who came up with your idea in the first place.

If these kids knew what was good for them, they wouldn’t interrupt you every time you tried to speak. Don’t they get that you’re the one who’s going to get them to pass the test in two weeks? If this kid would shut up and actually listen for once, Levi wouldn’t have to hear him bitch and moan about receiving another B-plus.

That’s what he tells himself when he spits, “You know, if you actually let her speak, you’d realize how wrong you are.”

Your jaw drops. Petra raises a brow at Levi’s sudden outburst. Pixis seems to perk up in his seat. (He was probably two minutes away from falling asleep).

“Mr. Ackerman!” he barks. He sighs and slumps into his desk. “Remember what I said about being respectful during these seminars?”

“Yeah, well, interrupting the smartest person in this class isn’t being respectful,” he replies, slouching back in his seat with folded arms and wrinkled brow.

Smartest person in this class? Foremost, you’re flattered, but Levi wouldn't know something like that and neither would you. Snickers are heard amongst the circle. Instantly, your fingers move to scathe your cheek. He may as well have set you on fire.

There’s an uneasy churning in the pit of your stomach that seems to intensify as the hole gapes wider and wider. You hope that by awkwardly straightening out all of your papers and pens, that everyone’s gazes will shift away from you.

Pixis huffs through his nose and folds his hands together. “Very true.” Levi grunts, happy to be agreed with. “Mr. Doc, maybe if you didn’t try to pass off Miss Reader’s point as your own, you wouldn’t be whining about your B-plus.”

Nile gawks in response. The snickers turn into hushed and amused conversation.

“Miss Reader, you may continue.”

“Uhhh, I lost my train of thought,” you murmur, tapping your fingers against the desk. “Sorry, maybe it’ll come back to me in a minute, if, um… someone else who hasn’t gotten the chance to speak wants to go?”

Petra grabs her paper. She spares Levi, who is blushing furiously, a curious glance and simultaneously forces her lips into a straight and professional line. “I’ll go.”

“Thank you, Miss Ral. And Ackerman?” Pixis narrows his gaze toward the athlete.

“Yes, sir?”

“See me after class.”

Levi wants to roll his eyes.

From across the circle of desks, he glances up and accidentally meets your eyes. He can still see your anxiety in the slapping of your sole against the floor and the way you rub at your collarbone.

Still, a small smile tugs up on your lips. Your eyes shine.

There it goes again, the pattering of his heart as it rocks against his chest.

The Seminar ends fifteen minutes later, and when the desks are rearranged, back in order, Levi tries to escape the classroom before he has to suffer a “stern talking-to” from Pixis.

“Ackerman,” Pixis calls. Well great, he didn’t forget. He’s swirling a flask around in his grip and staring at the black-haired athlete a little too intently. Levi turns around. “Good job.”

His brow shoots up. “What?”

Pixis shrugs. “I hate that goddamn kid. Good on you for standing up for your classmates!”

He stands there and tries to wrap his head around exactly what Pixis is saying to him, but decides he doesn’t really care for any compliments for doing the bare minimum and would rather get to lunch before he has to eat at an uncomfortably fast pace.

“Is that all?”

“Huh?” Pixis muffles a cough. “Oh, yeah. You’re dismissed. Just… watch the attitude. I find it refreshing but your superiors will begin to find it incompetent.”

He wants to say he doesn’t care but instead murmurs, “Noted.”

Pixis nods, and Levi disappears.

When he steps out of the classroom into the hallway—which is now mostly empty since the passing period has ended—the last thing he expects is to see you leaning against the wall outside the door. His eyes open wider, interest obviously piqued, then he looks you up and down.

“Yep. It’s really me,” you grin.

Levi flushes, and your stomach grows fuzzy at the sight of his pale cheeks turning pink. He scratches at the nape of the neck like you did earlier, which you find adorable.

“Are you stalking me?”

The corner of your mouth tugs up. “Last time I checked, you, Mr. Stalker, are the one who liked my Instagram photo from thirty-three weeks ago.”

Levi quickly turns from pink to red then begins a rushed walk down the hallway towards the cafeteria.

“You don't have to be embarrassed, Levi! Besides,” you grab his wrist and tug him back, talking to the back of his head, “I thought it was… kind of endearing.”

“Endearing? Don’t condescend me,” he sneers. “Fuck off.”

You frown, “I’m not being condescending. I thought it was sweet.” You hope he knows that you really mean that. “You really think I’m the smartest girl in class?”

Levi continues walking. “I said fuck off, Hemingway.”

You don’t. You continue trailing him on his heels, following him like a duckling to the cafeteria where he makes a beeline for the table crowded with Erwin, Hange, and a couple other teammates who share the same lunch hour.

“You’re still following me?”

“Well, you won’t let me finish what I was hoping to say to you,” you shrug. “I’ll be out of your hair afterwards. Promise!”

Levi stops with a resigned sigh, eyes flitting down to your fingers still wrapped around his wrist. Finally, you seem to realize your mistake and release his hand before taking a cautionary step back. Both of you can feel eyes trained on your interaction.

“Uh, I, uh— “ You pet your hair, swallowing your nerves. Levi waits. “Just, thanks. I guess. I don’t know. For sticking up for me in class. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

Levi grunts, “Yeah, well, I did it more for me than for you. His analysis was garbage, and if I had to listen to it any longer, I would’ve lost all my brain cells.”

A laugh crawls out of your throat, and you shake your head. “Yeah, me too. Still, thanks. I want to… repay you or something. I don’t know.”

His heart slams bruisingly against his chest. It hurts to swallow. Suddenly, he’s getting that sick feeling he had a week ago after he walked you back to your car. Since then, it’s been all sticky palms in class and taking a peek at what outfit you decided to wear that day, but otherwise, your interactions have been limited to as they were before the interview.

You never even said anything to him about liking your old Instagram picture until today. Maybe you thought he was a creep. But you did just say you thought it was cute…

“I might know a way you can repay me,” he starts, confused by where the sudden surge of courage came from, but nonetheless still going with it.

Interest flickers in your glassy eyes. Levi wants to step closer and dissect all of the colors they hold, all the shades and tints, and how they manage to blend together so seamlessly. There’s something about you that elevates the parts of him that have sunk so low he forgot they were there.

You clutch your notebook to your chest. “And what’s that?”

He clears his throat. His cheeks are still red. “You can… come to the match in a week.”

You blink. “Like, State? You want me to come?”

Levi inhales and pretends like he’s smooth. “Yeah.”

You don’t know shit about soccer.

Well, actually, you know a little more about it now than you did a week ago.

And you know that Levi makes it interesting, because he’s interesting.

“Okay, sure,” you reply, with your stomach in knots and your heart beating out of your chest. You try to play it cool and pretend like this invitation doesn’t excite you as much as it actually does, so you’re pressing your lips into as much of a convincing line as possible.

“Sure?” Levi repeats.

“Yeah,” you nod, a little too aggressively. “Yeah, I’ll come to the game.”

Silence envelopes the two of you as he processes this. Then he says, “Okay.”

You smile. “Okay.”

He grips the strap of his backpack a little tighter and chews on the inside of his cheek. “If you want, you can wear my other jersey.”

“With your last name and number?”

“Yeah, that's typically what’s on a jersey.”

You grow even hotter at the prospect, imaging yourself draped in a royal blue and white jersey, with the name ‘Ackerman’ spelled across your back in all capital letters. With the number fifty-five printed right below, in an even larger font. You almost want to cup your hand over your mouth and giggle into your palm like a fucking kid.

Instead, you clear your throat. “But that’s like… only couples do that.”

“I liked your Instagram picture from thirty-three weeks ago,” he says, like that fact alone is evidence enough of his fondness toward you.

It absolutely is.

You bite down on your lip and shift back on your heels. “Yeah, that was a real rookie move, Ackerman.”

He rolls his eyes, but they still sparkle. You can’t tell if they’re more blue than they are gray, or if they’re more gray than they are blue. “Shut up. I’ll look for you there. Don’t make any plans for afterward.”

“What, are you gonna lure me into your car and kill me?”

“You listen to way too many True Crime podcasts.”

“I’m a woman. I have to be cautious,” you explain.

“Something tells me men should be more cautious of you.”

You smile at that. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m a reeaaaal heartbreaker!”

Said nobody, ever. Because you’ve never had a boyfriend. You’ve never been asked on a real date. You’ve definitely never worn anyone’s sports jersey.

You’ve been kissed before. In the seventh grade, during a game of truth or dare, by some random kid whose name you don’t even remember. There wasn’t any tongue. Only chapped lips and foul breath that has scarred you up to this point.

Levi seems like someone who would be a good kisser. Your eyes flash down to his mouth, where you follow the outline of his lips, noticing the subtle way his bottom lip juts out and the prominent Cupid’s bow etched above his upper lip. He has nice teeth, too.

“Stop looking at my mouth, freak,” he mumbles. “If you wanna be kissed so bad just...”

Now it’s your turn to flush at what you know he’s implying. “Adults do not plan kisses.”

He clicks his tongue. “Right, because we’re total adults.”

“But uh, are you more of a mint or a watermelon guy, because I’ll buy gum—“

Levi laughs through his nose, all soft, like he’s really just a body pillow meant to be hugged close.

Actually, no—he’s a cat. Maybe that’s why he likes sitting by all the windows, because he likes the feeling of the sun on his skin and seeping through the fabric of his clothes. You wonder what Levi’s body would feel like warm and pressed against you. You wonder if his hair would feel hotter than his body because it’s black. You are certain that it’s as soft as it looks.

“Okay, well,” you trail off, starting to step back. “I’m already late for my study hall.”

“That’s your own fault,” he says. “See you in English.”

“Tomorrow, yes! See you… see you tomorrow!” The backs of your legs hit the corner of a table, and one of the kids occupying the benches glances up to shoot you a dirty look. “What?” you hiss. “Eat your sandwich.”

Levi’s brows are raised, his gaze never leaving your movements. You spare a dry, awkward laugh before turning around, finally finding feeling in your legs again until—

“Hey, Hemingway!” he barks. You glance over your shoulder. Levi’s silver eyes are sparkling when he adds, “Don’t miss the game.”

A small smile plays on your lips. You nod with warm cheeks. “See you, Levi!”

A week passes in a blur of English class discussions over 1984 and soccer practices that end two hours later than they normally do. Levi goes to school, puts his all into practice, does his homework, eats, then falls asleep, just so he can do it all again the next day. By now, it’s a routine that’s burned into his bones.

His team has noticed something’s different, but they know nothing of Levi’s underlying motivations. They don't know that he invited a goddamn girl to come see him play for the first time. They don’t know that he’s giving her his jersey and likely taking her out afterwards instead of celebrating with the team.

Levi pretends like he’s not excited. He isn’t supposed to get excited about things.

He still sees you every day in English class. Only now his eyes are drifting down to your lips, which always seemed to be slathered in some pretty nude tint from the balm you’re always applying. You have nice lips, he thinks. And he wonders how they would feel pressed against his. He imagines them to be soft and plush, a little bit wet, probably warm, too. It’s intimidating because he’s never kissed anyone in his life.

Every day, you follow him to lunch, walking close beside him as you weave through the hallways. Most of the time, he isn’t even the one talking. It’s always you, ranting about English class and how Pixis’ alcohol tolerance is starting to climb toward exponential heights to a point where it’s become both impressive and concerning. Levi always manages a soft grunt through his nose—a sign that he thought what you said was funny, and you take that as an honor and let him walk the rest of the way alone as a gesture of good will.

It’s the evening of the state championships. Tonight, it’s Shiganshina versus Mitras. Levi’s sitting on the bench, staring at the jersey folded neatly over his thigh.

He hasn’t been able to find you yet.

The crowd’s a little larger than anticipated. The air is tense. Some of his teammates are running drills and Petra, who’s the Captain of the girls’ team, is leaning over the bleachers conversing with Hange, probably smoothing over any final technicalities.

He needs to get out of his head. He needs to fucking focus. But he hasn’t focused all week, because all he does is think about you.

God, fuck you.

Erwin yells his name and waves him over and they continue to warm up and run drills. Running around seems to grasp his attention, but his blonde friend can’t help but notice that there’s something off in his movements.

Before the game starts, Levi looks for you in the stands. He anticipates the sound of your voice over the crowd.

You still aren’t there.

He tries to curb his disappointment by putting his all into this one fucking game.

It goes as expected.

The game ends with Levi on the bleachers, with the jersey still folded on his lap. Hange places a hand on their friend’s shoulder and hopes whatever funk he’s in will go away.

Shiganshina won by three. Levi’s glad his team doesn’t need him there to pull it off. He’s happy to see Oluo and Eld thrusting Gunther up into the air on their shoulders, and he’s happy to see Erwin slapping hands with the floating athlete.

“Good job, Levi,” Hange says. Their hand comes down on his head to ruffle his hair.

“I didn’t do anything,” Levi whispers back. “They did it all on their own.”

A sad smile falters on their lips. “Give yourself some credit.”

You’re too hard on yourself, he remembers you saying.

Yeah, well. He doesn’t know how to feel about you right now.

Maybe something came up. Maybe you’re hurt. Fuck, he didn’t even consider that as a possibility because he was so swept up in his own assumptions. He feels a burst of air in his chest, then a tightness that can only be explained as the beginning of a panic attack.

“She was supposed to be here,” Levi says, quietly and to himself, but Hange picks up and raises a brow.

“Who?”

“Hemingway. She said she’d come.”

Hange frowns. “Did you text her?”

Levi shrugs. He stands, and people are about to shake hands. “I don’t have her number.”

“Maybe she had a reason, Levi. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Then they add, “I think she really likes you.”

Levi finds that hard to believe, but he’s already tired of the conversation. “Maybe,” he replies. Then he tries to forget about it.

On Monday, you don’t show up for class. Levi stares at your seat for the first ten minutes and wonders if you’re really too much of a coward to show up and face him after standing him up.

On Tuesday, you don’t show up for class. Levi wonders if maybe he should’ve given you his number. If he did, maybe you would’ve been able to explain to him why you didn’t show up to his game.

On Wednesday, you don’t show up for class.

On Thursday, you don’t show up for class.

He definitely should’ve given you his number. Maybe you actually got sick. He knows that strep is floating around. Do you need anything? He may be terrible company but he knows how to make good soup.

On Friday, you don’t show up for class.

You don’t show up at all next week. Levi can’t fucking take it anymore.

One day, after English class, Levi approaches Pixis. “Hey, old man, do you know why Hemingway isn’t in class anymore?” He tries to sound as careless as possible.

“Hemingway?” The old man in question raises a brow, flask hovering over his white mustache. “Like, Ernest? Uh, I believe that would be—oh. Oh!” Recognition flashes across his eyes, and he settles back into his seat with a light smile. “You mean Miss Reader? She graduated early. I believe she had enough credits to end after midterms!”

“Oh,” Levi says. His shoulders sag. “I didn’t realize the school permitted stuff like that.”

Pixis scratches his scruff. “Well, these were uh, extenuating circumstances. I apologize, but I’m not allowed to disclose any information regarding the personal affairs of students.”

The scowl is back on Levi’s face. “Oh, so now you decide to do your job? That’s rich.” Levi rubs his forehead and pinches the bridge of his nose. “She… nothing happened to her, right?

His teacher stares at him for a moment. “Levi, relax. She’s fine. And hopefully enjoying her early summer.”

Well, that certainly isn’t the satisfactory response Levi hoped for. It just leaves him with more questions than before.

The next day, he stops by the school paper. Nifa is there, along with a few other students, typing away on her computer.

When he asks what happened to you, she tells him that it’s not her place to say.

He wonders if it’s crazy of him to think he’s being conspired against. That, in reality, you never wanted anything to do with Levi, because why would you? He’s just some guy. Just some asshole kid, right? You told Nifa you made a mistake, and because of “girl code” or whatever the fuck, she isn’t permitted to--

Yeah, he realizes quickly that’s a ridiculous theory and definitely not at all what happened.

Soccer season is over. Finals season is on the rise. Maybe if Levi throws himself into studying, he can forget about the crippling disappointment over never seeing you again, and the painful humiliation of practically getting stood up at arguably, one of the most important games of his life.

You said you’d be there. Why weren’t you?

Now you aren’t in school for the rest of the year, which is really fucking weird, and makes him suspect the worst. When he checked your Instagram last night and debated stooping as low as to direct message you, he saw that not only were all of your pictures gone, but your messages were turned off. All of the photos he loved to scroll through—gone. You. Gone.

Gone.

Like you were never there. But you were. You’re still here. Maybe Hange can figure it out. They knew you—or maybe they know people you were friends with that can fill in all the blanks for him.

He wants to scream. He wants to hurt all over his body like he does deep inside his chest.

Levi doesn’t cry. He makes sure that there’s nothing important in his life to cry over in the first place. It makes living a little less painless.

But his eyes are stinging and he feels like he’s suffocating in this stuffed hallway that’s a little too loud for his own comfort.

He opens his locker and stares into nothing.

Graduation rolls around the corner, right after finals.

Levi looks for you in the crowd. He’s almost tempted to look through the row of H’s, but then he remembers that your last name isn’t actually Hemingway. His eyes drift through the crowd where he scans for the first letter of your last name.

He doesn’t find you.

The ceremony lugs on. People are giving speeches that sound the same, and the superintendent rambles on about school spirit and those who worked behind the scenes to make this day possible. He sounds bored and ready to go home, which Levi couldn’t relate to more.

Erwin approaches the stage next. His best friend gives one hell of a speech for a valedictorian. Everyone bursts into applause and he flashes them that winning smile that surely will get him far in life. Levi is happy, but he also wants to sink into the ground and disappear so no one tries to speak to him ever again.

He walks the stage. Shakes hands with the principal. Gets his diploma. He graduated high school because he had to and because it was expected of him, but he’s indifferent towards most things, and that includes graduation.

Apparently, it didn’t include you.

Kenny did his best today. He’s wearing a suit and his shirt is actually tucked into his pants. Just the other day, he went out and got himself a haircut, and he’s smacking on chewing tobacco instead of gum, but Levi’s satisfied, because at least he’s trying.

He’s taking pictures with Erwin when it happens.

There you are.

Across the grass, blue gown swaying by your ankles, white dress hung above your knees. Your hair is down and squashed by the graduation cap, and beside you is an older woman with crow’s feet crawling from the corners of her eyes. She looks just like you, or actually, you look just like her.

An elderly woman takes a picture of you two.

He sees the corners of your mouth quirk up by barely half an inch. Barely half. And then he notices the heaviness below your eyes, and the slouch in your posture; the dullness of your skin; the flat, dead nature of your hair, like a tree when it turns from spring to fall to winter. When the camera lowers, your face drops, and you stare absently at a patch of grass in the field.

There’s no way that’s actually you.

“Oh, you should go say hi!” Erwin encourages, nodding towards you.

A girl jumps in beside you. More pictures are snapped. You smile like Levi smiles, and then he sees it: the perpetual scowl. The same scowl that Levi wears so often that it’s become a part of him. You are fucking beautiful, but he hates it on you. It doesn’t suit you.

Levi swallows. “I don’t know. She stood me up.”

“Maybe she had a reason. She hasn’t been in school at all this quarter,” Erwin shrugs.

Levi turns away. “She doesn’t look like she wants to be spoken to by anyone,” he insists.

“Well, neither do you, but when people do start talking, you listen. Wait, Levi, she’s looking at you!”

Levi’s eyes shoot wide open and he whips his back towards you. “What?! Shut up! She has ears!”

“Oh, she turned away really fast anyway,” Erwin frowns.

“What?!” Now, he swivels the other direction, facing the back of your head. Your mother’s hand smooths down your hair. It’s grown a little longer since he last saw you.

Erwin offers a hearty laugh, eyes pinched and head thrown back. His sandy blonde hair glints beneath the sun, and Levi wonders if he had an ounce of Erwin’s charisma—maybe you would turn around and notice him one last time.

“You obviously still like her, Levi,” his friend offers, gesturing towards you. A couple girls your age stop to meet you, throwing their arms around you, and Levi wishes he could’ve met your friends and that you could’ve come to his game and that he could’ve taken you to that diner everyone loves so much. He would’ve paid, too; would’ve let you steal the fries from his plate. He would’ve done a lot of things. He didn’t realize he was so good at making stuff up in his head, but then he remembers, he does that shit all the time.

Levi grunts, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. It’s a pitiful attempt at concealing the heat on his cheeks.

“The least you can do is say hello. It’s not weird. Just being polite after you haven’t seen her all quarter.”

His heart is pounding. That does make sense—it’s not creepy, saying hello to someone you were once acquainted with, who you haven’t seen in a while.

Are you even an acquaintance, though?

You’re just a girl he had a few conversations with. You always ended up in the same English class together and you always got high marks on your essays, and for a while, he was almost tempted to ask you how the hell you did it—every test, every quiz, every essay. You made it so easy, you gorgeous, hilarious fucking genius.

You sit in the dead center of the classroom, where the light reflects on all sides of you. You wear converse on Thursdays, and you doodle in all your assigned readings, and you make bookmarks out of folded paper that you can slide onto the corners of the page when you’re done reading for the day.

Does a week of limited conversation count as an acquaintance? As a friendship? Does four years of creepily gawking at you in English count as anything at all?

Who fucking knows.

If it goes terrible, he never has to see you ever again. He’ll unfollow you on Instagram. You’ll just become some girl who stood him up that one time. It’s not like it’s an uncommon experience.

“This is all your fuckin’ fault,” Levi growls, before shoving his cap into Erwin’s chest. He grunts and stumbles back.

Levi runs both hands through his hair. Today it’s slathered in gel to keep it from falling in his eyes. He pushes a couple of strands over his ears and swallows every last bit of nerves.

Kenny calls after him. Something about taking pictures with the soccer team.

He murmurs a “Watch it” as he shoves past a random senior. When the last group of people flock, and his view clears, he sees you. Your head is tilted backwards and a kid he recognizes—Nile Doc, that fucker from English—is wrapping a coil of your hair around his forefinger. He smiles down at you.

“Heming—!” His hand is midair. He’s never spoken so loud off the field in his entire life.

“There he is!” A familiar, annoying voice jeers.

Someone swings their arm over Levi’s shoulder, but he’s still craning his neck, hoping he meets your gaze.

Nile’s arm slips around your back and Levi has never felt something so sinister boil in his gut before. He clenches down hard on his jaw. He doesn’t fucking understand. Are you with him? No, there’s no way.

Eren Jaeger and Connie Springer—upcoming seniors next year at Shiganshina—are flocking Levi. Jean Kirstein is practically strangling him.

His neck hurts. He doesn’t care if you stood him up, or maybe he does. There’s no way you’re with Nile Doc and not him. The guy’s an asshole, and you’re—you’re goddamn Hemingway!

His heart skyrockets and he thinks he’s going to fucking explode into smithereens when you slowly glance over your shoulder. He notices the outline of nose and jaw and lips from afar, and God, it’s not normal to feel like you’re gonna die when a mere acquaintance meets your gaze, right?

Your real name catches in his throat.

He expects you to throw your hand up. Wave at him and flash him that smile and cackle obnoxiously at him like you did that one night.

He wants to hear you yell his name over the crowd.

But you don’t. You look him dead in the eye. No smile. No nothing. Fucking nothing.

And you just look away. Like he’s dirt under your shoe. He is nothing to you. Just some creep who stared at you all four years of high school English because he was too embarrassed to say hello and too afraid to give a shit about something.

“Fuck, just get lost you guys,” Levi snarls, batting at the limbs tangling around him.

“Of course he’s in one of those moods,” Eren huffs.

Jean hisses at Connie, “You shouldn’t have jumped on him like that, dumbass!”

Levi finds a patch of grass. He stares at it long and hard. You really didn’t want to see him. You really just looked away.

His eyes are fucking burning. His throat is burning. The pit in his stomach opens up to an abyss, and he wants to slam his head against the nearest surface he can find and forget that this ever happened.

Levi goes and takes pictures. He hates it. No one expects him to smile though, even if Kenny prods him like a belligerent father. As if he could ever be a father to him when all he does is drink himself half to death.

He remembers why he doesn’t give a shit about things. He remembers the way you looked at him. Vacant of anything. So fucking empty that it reminded him too much of himself.

He’s having dinner with Erwin’s family. It goes by in a blur.

When he gets home, he finds himself sitting in the dark. Alone. Kenny is downstairs and the television is on, playing some random show as background noise to drown out his drunken snores. At least he tried today. At least he tried. At least he’s still here.

He tries so hard not to care, and he hates that it’s impossible not to.

With a wet face, he tiptoes downstairs and tosses a blanket over Kenny’s legs. He prays to fucking God he will wake up in the morning.

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