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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part VII

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1864.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

________

You wanted to slap yourself. What the hell was wrong with you today? Why did you tell Peter that?!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Completely baffled with you behavior, you were deeply ashamed, unable to look the guy in the eyes and wanting nothing but fall into the earth.

“Ah, I got it. It’s Steve, isn’t it?” All of a sudden, Peter let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes skywards and rubbing his neck. “Of course, who else would say such nonsense. Blackmail, really? Funny he didn’t call me a stalker or anything.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it, I’m really-”

“It’s ok.” He closed the locker, slamming its door loudly and making you jump. “It’s not your fault. If I heard that from somebody, I’d be scared too.”

He spent a couple of seconds staring into the wall until he rubbed his neck again tiredly and huffed. It took him less than a minute to regain his composure, and you heard him murmuring, “What a freak.”

He didn't return to the corridor, heading to the sports hall for his PE class, instead moving to the bench in the locker room and motioning you to sit. Feeling terribly awkward, you hoped he wasn't going to do anything out of anger, even though he had every right to be upset at your stupid behavior.

"About what he said," Peter took a deep breath, "it's nothing like that. I don't dig up some nasty stuff in the web to blackmail people. I've never done it. The reason why Mr. I-am-better-than-you said that is because I've made him take me into his little bodyguard group when I heard him talking to Loki. You're nice, and I wanted to help. Of course, Steve started acting like I was some creep, so he refused, and I had to remind him that, technically, he had to report your issue to the administration, not play a hero. I said that if I go and tell the whole story to the dean, Steve's gonna be in trouble because he knew who thieves were and didn't report them."

It was a loud off your mind. Goodness. Rogers called this a blackmail? Really? Just because Peter pushed Steve into taking him into their group?

You were less and less sure Rogers was sane. You definitely had to be careful around him.

"I can't believe he called it a blackmail." You admitted quietly, and the guy sent you a tired smile. "Peter, I'm so, so sorry. It was so stupid of me."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd freak out too if I didn't know the whole story."

You knew your apologies weren't enough, but you hoped Peter didn't take it to heart - if you can take such an accusation easily, that is. Shit, shit, shit, why did you believe everything these guys were saying? You didn't even know them in the first place! Why on Earth did you go asking them their opinions on others if all of them were biased, and every guy could twist the truth the way he liked? You shouldn't have let their words affect you that much.

"Whatever. At least now you know what Rogers is like." Peter sent you a grim smile and got up, picking his bright yellow sackpack from the floor. "Shit, I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. Let's meet in a library later, alright?"

"O-of course." You hurriedly stood up and left the lockers room after him, turning to the library: your Lit class was cancelled, so you decided to go study right away. At this time, the library was usually full, and you felt safe there.

Your thoughts were all about the guys again even when you were staring at your laptop, trying to focus on Excel numbers. Why did you feel like the atmosphere between them was so dense? If they were at such terms with each other, why did they group together to help you? What, because all of them loved you so much? It was ridiculous. There was something else to it, and you didn't know. You had a feeling no one was going to tell you the truth until you figured it all out by yourself.

Weird. It was all so weird. Steve's plan, their behavior, the relationships between them, and your nagging feeling they all were hiding something. Was it them who were actually following you?

The thought scared you to the point you started shivering. Oh shit.

"Hi there," the guy appeared behind your back so suddenly you almost jumped, looking at him wide-eyed, "sorry, did I startle you?"

"H-hi Jake! No, it's ok, I was just... studying." Both of you were talking in hushed voices, knowing the librarian would kick you out immediately if she heard some noise. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how're you?" You could hear concern in his voice: he was one of Thor's friends you met yesterday, and although you spoke briefly, Thor definitely told him more about you. "You look a bit worried."

"Oh, it's Math, I didn't really understand the topic, and we're having an exam on Monday... guess I'll be studying the whole weekend." You gave him your best smile to reassure you were totally ok, and the guy relaxed a little, smiling at you, too.

"I'm sure you'll pass. Thor said you're very smart."

What, he said that to all of them? Was he simply boasting about his girlfriend to his friends or was there something more to it?

"You're too kind. Thank you."

His smile grew wider, and he landed on the next seat to yours, resting his hands on the table. Apparently, there was something he wanted to talk to you about, and you grew uneasy.

"Listen, about these incidents... Thor told us all about it, so if you see any freaks following you around, you can message any of us, and we'll come right away." Looking at his serious expression, his bushy brows furrowed, you hoped he eas being sincere with you: you had enough with people you could no longer trust. "And also... that kid, if he's giving you troubles or anything, just let me know, and I'll tell him to keep his hands to himself"

Oh, he was talking about Peter, wasn't he? He had probably seen that silly photo. Wow, you though, Peter was totally right about Instagram: it was the best news source in the academy.

Thanking him for his concern, you laughed a little, convincing him there was nothing serious except for the theft and promising to tell him if anything weird would be going on. While it should have made you feel safer, in fact, you only grew more frustrated with this situation. You wanted to forget about these freaks and just spend you day like any normal student would, but everywhere you went people were staring at you as if you had a horn; one boyfriend or the other was always close to protect you from some unknown danger, and although you believed they tried to help, you hated the feeling they were hiding something from you. Why did you have to be going through all this? Wasn't it really better to drop off school, spend a year working and then apply to a better place?

Thinking of the faces your parents would make once you returned home, you realized it wasn't. This school with all those creeps wasn't worse than home that never felt like a safe place you wanted to come back to. Besides, all money you saved up until now were only good for buying food and things like that: you'd never afford to rent a decent place unless you found a well-paid job. It meant staying with your parents, and it wouldn't be much better than here, just different. If you wanted to drop off, you had to find a good place to stay.

Well, you could at least try, right?

When Peter met you in the library, the two of you no longer talked about anything important, simply studying together to prepare for the exams next week. It didn't feel off: from time to time you met his gaze, and the both of you smiled. You were thankful he didn’t talk about Steve or other guys or that weirdo in the lockers room.

Once you returned home, you went straight to bed, completely exhausted. Luckily, you did much more than yesterday, so you could rest now, but then you thought of Thor kissing you and bit down the pillow, angry at yourself. Why did you keep thinking of him right now?

______________

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like something was off: your body ached, your throat hurt, and your headache was only making it worse. Dammit, you caught a cold, probably. And that’s when it was finally the day to meet Steve, the guy you thought was a mastermind behind all these manipulations that were making you sick to the core.

Anyway, it’s not like a mere cold would prevent you from doing everything you had planned. You left your bed and went to the bathroom, moving the dresser before again.

Honestly, it felt terrible. It was definitely because of that flimsy dress you wore to school yesterday when the weather was becoming chilly. Argh. Watching your puffy eyes and swollen nose, you sneezed. Today you had to apply way more makeup to look decently.

Steve showed up earlier than either Thor or Peter: you had to skip your breakfast, hoping to buy something cheap in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He said with his everyday polite expression that soon shifted into a concerned one. “Are you alright?”

What, was it that bad? You did your absolute best to apply enough makeup and do your hair. Did you still look so sick?

“Good morning. Yes, I’m ok, just feeling a little sleepy.” You yawned on purpose, covering your mouth with your hand, and Steve’s face softened.

“Did you study all night?”

“Yep, exams are driving me a little crazy.”

“I understand. I also stayed late last night.”

Of course, the student council president studying all days long to be number one student in the academy. If you didn’t know of his twisted nature, you’d think he was the most typical nerd.

You spent most of the time either in silence or talking about studies, the academy, and everything related to it. Steve acted like a gentleman and a scholar, albeit a little too demonstratively. Walking with you as if he were a king of the place, he constantly replied to greetings of others, waved to his acquaintances and smiled. You felt so off you wanted to find Loki and walk with him: unlike Steve, he was considered unpleasant by the prevailing majority of students.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” America golden boy asked you for the last time, and you forced yourself to smile.

“Of course. Thanks for coming, see you later, Steve.”

As he finally left you in peace, you almost fell down into your chair, your fever only getting worse despite the fact you took some painkillers. It was going to be a long day.

_________

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#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #thor x reader #dark thor #loki x reader #dark loki #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #yandere

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yanderenightmare · 4 years

Note

You made me fall in love with fear, it's all just fascinating. The way you write is an aesthetic in itself! It's so beautiful and thought-provoking. If your requests are open, I would love to see your volume one Yanderes with a clumsy s/o. Like, she is accident prone, always injuring herself, etc. I wonder how they would react with such fragility? Thanks! Have a wonderful day! :D

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dumbification, abuse, manipulation, ableism, anxiety, death, murder, drugs, drugging, kidnapping

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He knew fragile things existed in the world.

And he knows that the world was designed to chew such powerless things up then spit them out again.

And he knows he isn’t one of those frail things.

As a child he thought it was fair for the strong to conquer the weak.

And hell… he still thinks it’s fair.

Her brittle nature provides him with such a great excuse too, such a perfect explanation for him to justify taking her.

To justify keeping her in soft frilly clothes, locked inside a room devoid of walls where they have been replaced by cushions and pillows and blankets and furs and stuffed-animals and all things soft, soft, soft against the bruises and scrapes on her knees and ankles and elbows and chin. Keeping her all cozy and clumsy where she’s unable to keep her footing on the plushie asylum floor, reduced to vertigo, especially with that fluffy pink ankle-cuff chaining her down.

Sometimes she’ll hide when hearing Bakugo’s footsteps coming thundering from behind her door. She’ll wrap herself up in all those soft things she’s grown to hate, pray under the covers only to hear the cracking predatory humor of Bakugo’s laugh once he spots where the chain trails to.

He'll drag her out of hiding like a puppy on a leash, all for him to punish, all with that splitting frenzied grin on his face, the one that makes her head dizzy on the sight of seeing how sharp those canines of his are, knowing how they’re going to find her neck as though she’s some chew-toy.

He’ll always make it sound as though that’s what she wanted, that punishment is what her weakness begged him for, as though weakness is synonymous with wanting pain or needing pain.

He’ll sleep there with her most of the time, in the room he’s made so painstakingly clear was her home. She’s coming more and more gradually to the understanding that nothing in reality is hers anymore. Not the room, not the clothes, not her body.

She’s too weak to be allowed to be in charge of anything, better for her to just find comfort in knowing how she has no responsibilities, better for her to just be grateful Bakugo wanted her as his pet rather than his prey. Better for her to listen and believe him when he tells her that she’s safe, instead of thinking of all those crippling reasons as to why she is far from being safe.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Clumsy prey is a sport Shoto always believed to be too mediocre and boring, given how easily the dexterity of the predator can win the chase.

He didn't think he could achieve stimulation without a challenge.

But, he’s now finding that chasing someone who’s barely able to keep her own footing is a game he rather enjoys quite salaciously. Understanding now that it’s less about the quest, less about actually catching his prize, and more about the experience, those funny little moments leading up to it.

The amount of hungry pleasure he derives from seeing her stagger away from him is bottomless.

He doesn’t know why, but it’s the outmost endearing and lovable and precious and cute thing he can think of.

Seeing her stumble and fall, all in the product of mixing her clumsiness with her wild manic fear. Watching those beautiful swivel-eyes spiral as she looks up at him through the thick darkness of the poorly lit hallways, hearing nothing but Shoto’s inhumanly sadistic snickering and her own heavy panting as she tries desperately to drag herself further away. Yet, knowing and awaiting his massive biting cold hand to grip around her ankle to drag her across the marble-floor back into her dungeon, back into the soft bed, so that they can do everything again.

Most chases end up with her hurting herself and eventually aiding her own capture.

She’ll always wake up with bruises she has no recollection of when or how she got, yet looking at them she can tell that they’re way too mellow to be something given to her by Shoto.

It's funny, where he hurts her, he actually ends up saving her more times than most. Where her sporadic escape has almost led her to go tumbling down the stairwell, where were it not for Shoto catching her in her fall, things could have gotten really ugly.

He wouldn’t want her to actually break her legs after all, no matter how many times he might tease and threaten her with the thought. Broken legs would mean no more games, and Shoto doesn’t want that to end any time soon.

But, there are softer aspects to her silliness too.

She can be just as dopey and awkward with her rambling thoughts as him, where her inelegance with her mobility seeps into her skillfulness with words too.

If she’s proper blissed-out she can talk up storms of complete and utter nonsense, rambling on about her dreams and what animal the shape of Shoto’s scars resemble and how pretty his eyes are and how much her body is tingling in the aftershocks of what fun Shoto exercised on her skin.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Naivety really is bliss, isn’t it?

Not just for herself, but for him too.

To watch her, in all her clumsy glory, fall on her face, time and time again, never learning her lesson.

That’s the definition of insanity, you know?

Doing the same thing over and over again expecting things to go differently.

But, no matter how many times she tries to escape, no matter how many times she runs, or screams or cries or swears she hates him until her lungs burn, she’ll always end up right where she started off, right where she belongs, right in his arms, under his thumb, under him.

He doesn’t even have to put any effort in to prevent it.

He just needs to sit back and enjoy the show as she fails so spectacularly all by her very own, then pick her up off the floor and coo and hush and shush and tsk at her to calm down or else she might end up hurting herself all over again.

How has such fickle featherbrained maladroit messes managed to survive? How hasn’t evolution wiped them from existence yet?

Perhaps because other more evolved creatures found them to be such a perfect source for blowing off steam. Entertainment is important after all. Small little escapes through the day where you can forget what nasty troubles you’ll eventually have to deal with and simply just play with your silly little pet.

He saves the world every now and again, the world can allow him this much, to have his very own swivel-eyed toy. He deserves it.

Besides, she needs him. If he hadn’t stepped in and helped her, saved her from her own mistakes, evolution would have done its job and she’d be dead already.

But, he doesn’t expect her bumbling brainless little head to understand that, she’d just get a headache from thinking about it too hard.

No, better for her to focus on other things… like how to entertain him before he decides to show her just how small a foolish little thing she is.

He’ll often play with her, make her turn all shades of hopeless because she’s too forgetful and too soft-natured to comprehend what’s happened.

He’ll give her things, small little trinkets as presents for her good behavior, mostly accessories such as hair-bows, necklaces, anything he can easily slip off her without her noticing, then pretend to be disappointed, scolding her as though she’s some child who’s unable to take care of her things, punish her and kiss her on that scared foolish little face as she splutters out her apologies, having not a single clue she’s right where he wants her, completely clueless to the fact that she’s perfect in every which way imaginable.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

It feels so unexplainably good to hold something infinitely helpless and vulnerable and dainty in his destructive hands without it shattering like glass.

It feels so insurmountably meaningful and purposeful and godsend to save someone for once, even if it’s from themselves.

It’s nice being in the presence of true chaos, the true absence of order, a great real heap of a total clusterfuck. It makes him believe that even life requires a little death to scare them into safety, that even light requires darkness, that even love needs darkness, that even love desires darkness.

He used to think small things such as her were made up of cotton and all things soft like dandelion-fluff, but now he knows they’re made of breakable brittle things such as autumn-leaves, in desperate need of being wrapped up, suffocated, drowned in safety. He’s the one who needs to be soft like cotton, he’s the one who needs to be gentle and soft so she not crumble like the sweet pastry she is.

It’s cute. She’s cute. Unbelievably so too sometimes.

He feels like half the time he spends with her he’s teaching her how to walk properly, catching her when she falls or helping her up from the ground, dusting her off, wiping tears away from her face, patching up small scrapes and gashes, kissing her forehead, letting her know how it’s all okay, making sure she knows she’s no such thing as a burden, though not letting her in on the fact that he loves seeing her fail only for him to save the day.

He’ll take her outside more because of her ditzy nature, knowing how she’s far too dopey to ever manage an escape without pulling out a near miss unintentional suicide attempt, where which after a number of rescues from him she forgets why she was even running in the first place, now too caught up with being close to him instead, with feeling safe, feeling protected.

He’ll save her from wandering off into traffic, protect her when she says the wrong idiotic thing to the wrong batch of people, fight for her when her cuteness lures and pulls and ensnares other predators.

It’s symbiosis, if he thinks about it, if he tries justifying it.

She needs him and he needs to feel needed. She needs to be taken care of, he wants to take care of her, she needs protection from herself, he wants her dependence, he wants the safety of knowing how she cannot survive without him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

It’s hilarious.

She’ll break her own legs for him at this rate.

He wonders how many braincells could possibly be left in that thick skull of hers, with how much she trips and walks into walls and rolls out of bed, bumping her head on every possible thing, he can’t count how many times she’s head-butted him, whether it’s been on purpose or not.

He wonders if she might just be blind.

If maybe she needs glasses…

Well… that’s too bad if that’s the case, no chance he’s giving up watching her agonize over every misstep that leads to her falling on the floor by his feet, her head tipping to look up at him with that ridiculous expression, that dumbfounded adorable confusion.

It probably doesn’t help that he keeps the room so dark.

It probably doesn’t help that he leaves things on the floor in hopes of her foot catching on them.

But, can you blame him for wanting to see her all cute and flushed? Watching her frustrate over herself, too caught up in being mad with her own inadequacy to bother being mad at him. So preciously hopeless as she tries to pick herself up off the floor, her hair always in a mess and bruises and scrapes littering her otherwise soft skin.

Pretty and stupid isn’t usually the type he fawns over, in fact: pretty and stupid is usually the type that disgust him, pretty stupid bitches that never spare him a second glance, pretty stupid bitches that are only worth one fuck before he dusts them.

But pretty stupid and sweet?

That’s the perfect cocktail.

So stupid and sweet she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. So stupid and sweet that she’s surprised he gave her a second glance.

He wonders if he as well would be this careless and reckless if he hadn’t been gifted with that destructive quirk of his.

He wonders if she had been born with a heart made less up of honeycombs and more daggers like his, if she would also second-guess touching things as opposed to making it her mission to bump into every single thing in her path.

If she would be less trusting and more cynical like him.

He’s grateful she wasn’t.

He’s grateful that the only type of death she’ll ever get the chance to taste is him, that as far as she’s concerned… he is death.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Most of the time it’s cute.

Most of the time he loves watching her fall prey to her own absentmindedness. Watch her trip on nothing but her own poor footing.

After all, he does love catching her before she hits the ground. He loves being her hero, seeing that shocked expression on her face, that cute blush of embarrassment as he smirks down upon her jumpy skittish person.

Then of course there’s the less salvageable moments, yet still no less cute, where she’ll drop dinner plates or her glass or the wine bottle or the remote-controller, where she’ll get so frustrated with herself and her stubby fingers, her feet always needing bandaging where she always manages to step in her own mess of glass-shards.

Those times where she fucks up and fears Keigo’s temperance so much she’ll turn into a timid little ball of apologies and gratitude, where she’ll fear that any more screw ups will cost her his understanding attitude and awake something livid inside him.

She’ll be so sweet with fear as opposed to when she’ll jerk away from his touch.

So yeah, most of the time it’s cute, most of the time it’s beneficial.

But that habit she has of not thinking before speaking or acting gets her into a whole lot of trouble too.

Especially when she pushes him away or calls him something unsavory. When she acts like a brat, forgetting who’s in charge.

Keigo feels the need to teach her a thing or two about being a bit more careful and a little less brainless.

He’ll pose her in the middle of the living room, with only red lace adorning her tiny frame, looking cold but not so much to be the reason to her shivers, he knows better as he can smell the fear laced in the air.

On top of her head he’ll put a perfect plump red apple and tell her to stand as still and picture-perfect as possible.

She’s pretty good at it too, at being still and quiet and pretty, speaking only when spoken to, at least until he starts sending knife-sharp feathers in her directions, creating her silhouette in the wall as the feathers fly just short of nicking her skin, where if she moves only a slight mere inch, the crimson edges will slice open her skin.

And if the apple should fall, well… if she can be sweet and apologize and show him just how sorry she is, he’ll think about making the punishment enjoyable.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Hitoshi can’t manifest how much awe he has for that ditzy nature of hers.

So forgetful, so clueless, so cute.

She’s like a little girl, a child, a baby in a cradle, yet with the ability to get lost, wandering off at every slight distraction.

He’s tempted to put a bell around her neck if only to be alerted off when her curiosity has taken her out of his eyesight. She would look adorable with a little golden jingle bell around her throat, hanging on a velvet choker.

But then again… he wouldn’t have the joy of finding her all tousled and knotted up in her newest little fuck up.

Little Miss Forgetful forgetting all her lessons, all those rules Hitoshi’s taught her, forgetting her manners, forgetting her chores, forgetting how to be his good little girl or else suffer the consequences of being punished and becoming Master’s little puppet on strings.

Little Miss Messy making a total clutter in the kitchen when trying her best to get her hand on a knife, but only managing to bump into everything, shards of glass painting the crime scene with the culprit displayed and trapped all perfectly in the middle of her own mess, all for Hitoshi to come and catch red-handed.

Little Miss Bump with new bruises and scratches as she’s fallen yet again on the floor in the midst of her newest escape attempt.

He could go on all day about his sweet little Miss Silly, his little Miss Scatterbrain, his little Miss Stupid, who’s always getting into trouble, constantly needing Hitoshi to come to her rescue.

But, when he’s not home, he can get anxious.

Scared that she might actually hurt herself just a bit too much and he’ll arrive just a bit too late.

It should take a lifetime to die, yet she’s on the verge of death nearly every day, it only takes an instant and it’s over.

He’ll check in on her at home more times than he probably should throughout the day, praying before he unlocks the door and steps inside the quiet stillness of their house, picturing her having cracked her skull open when slipping or accidently managing to hang herself off of something or drowning in the tub after having fallen asleep, there’s no end to what horrors he can picture.

His anxiety only satiated when finding her still asleep on the bed, soft untroubled snores hanging off the walls.

It makes sense with how much melatonin he slipped in her drink before she dozed off…

Just a little safety measure.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

It manages to surprise him each and every time… just how much danger such a little thing is able to wrap herself up in.

It’s as though she chases the trouble, as though she wants the punishment that follows.

He doubts she ever really thinks anything thoroughly through.

She’s reckless, ruthless in her disregard for safety. Hare-brained and untrustworthy and in desperate need of his protection and his correction, or else she might just accidentally kill herself one day or worse… end up in the wrong set of hands.

It’s come to the point where he’s stopped gifting her with jewelry, because he gets so hysterically uneasy whenever she’s gotten her hands on anything sharp.

Before he’d get angry when she threatened him, wrathful, raging because she doesn’t listen, her foolish little brain unable to follow the simplest of directions.

Now though, he gets scared because she’s unable to understand what’s best for her, because the only thing she'll ever manage to hurt with those sharp trinkets is herself.

And if she hurts herself, if she risks getting bacteria in her bloodstream, infections in her wounds, scarring and marring that beautiful body, he’ll have no choice, he’ll see no other option but to make sure she can never manage such a thing ever again.

He often humors the idea of simply tying her to the bed and feeding her with a silver spoon, only liquids so she not choke when she forgets how to chew properly.

He’ll act as though she’s a nuisance, but it will be a lie most of the time, while actually finding an inane amount of reassurance and relief in her whimsy, in her gracelessness. Where yes, she is a danger, but she’s far from deadly.

And besides, it’s nice getting a little break from all formalities, someone he can finally be a little rough around the edges with, someone he can let himself enjoy soft pleasures with, someone he can smile or even laugh with when the occasion calls for it.

Sometimes he’ll place her in high-heels, only to watch her stumble around awkwardly like a little deer skating on ice.

She’s so determined too, determined to prove she isn’t a klutz, how she too can be elegant enough for a dance fit for the ballroom.

He’ll humor that fantasy, but she’ll always throw her heels off in favor of standing on top of his surgically white sneakers and letting herself get floated and swayed with how swiftly and precisely Kai has the established proper poise to enact.

He’ll smile then, when those flirty bubbling giggles erupt from her as she holds onto him, telling how him wonderful flying feels like.

TIP-JAR

2K notes · View notes

saphirered · 3 years

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I’m in love with your writing and binged your entire page one night lol

Could I request a story with Caleb where the M9 find a wounded reader on the run from people who want to use her for her very powerful magical abilities. She doesn’t trust Caleb at first because he’s a wizard and just as she opens up to him and starts to develop feelings discovers he has been studying her powers - thought with no bad intentions. Some good old angsty enemies to lovers type of beat. Preferably with a good ending but do what you wish ;))

Apparently I'm giving you more stuff to binge as this is looking more and more like a several parter 😅. Prepare for loads of angst and conflict and some good hurt/comfort to come but for now, here comes part 1! 😘

Nobody pays attention to a vagrant dressed in rags, looking about a week past their last proper bath begging on the side of the road for money or standing by a shop, mouth watering at the food. Nobody pays attention to what they don’t want to see in their pristine cities. Not unless they want to chase you away because you’re in their way or you’re tarnishing their image. Speaking about image, sometimes some rich folk will take pity upon you, casting a coin your way to make themselves look good and generous in the eyes of others.

That’s exactly what you became when you needed to disappear. You needed to become unseen, unnoticed and a shadow among a crowd. You succeed casting away all remainders of your previous life because in the end, your life is worth more to you than your earthly possessions. Survival above all. You’ll live this way until you can get somewhere where no one will question you, or where you’ll be under the protection of others, far away where your enemies cannot reach you. Maybe Vasselheim is a good place to go? They’re not fond of the arcane magics. Sure you’ll have to give up using some of your own gifts but it’s worth being able to live your life freely.

You’re still a ways away from Vasselheim and you don’t have the funds to get there yet. Even if you make it to a port, stowing away on a ship is fine but you can’t trust them to not throw you overboard or leave you stranded at the nearest island to save provisions. And that’s if they don’t hand you over to any authorities and risk you getting back to square one. You’ll have to wander around Wildemount until you’re able to book passage or find somewhere to lay low, forever on the move. It’s not the worst and you get used to it pretty quickly.

Weren’t you lucky when you saw the recent champions of the Victory Pit were strolling around town flaunting their winnings. You need food. You need warm clothes. And most of all, you could do with some extra change in your pocket. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal all of it of course. Just enough to get by and they wouldn’t notice. So you trail them, sticking to the shadows. They don’t seem to notice you.

Then you struck. You got the coin pouch from the ostentatious one. It was child’s play really. He didn’t even notice you lifting the pouch from his belt when you brushed against his shoulder muttering an apology. You were already amidst the crowd when you heard the tiefling exclaim his coin pouch was gone and he put two and two together quickly, the charlatan he is so before you knew it they were on the lookout for someone fitting your description. You had to move quick, buy your necessities and get out of the market. You know just the place to hide out; the Evening Nip. Nobody asks questions there.

Once you found yourself safely sipping on the shitty ale served at the Evening Nip you didn’t expect the colourful group of strangers to stroll in. It was already too late when you spotted them and you had no where to go. Still your quickly gathered up the coin back into the ornate velvet pouch and put it in your own pocket hidden beneath the layers of your clothes putting your hands behind your back as you tried to make a break for the exit. They did not let you pass, a relatively buff looking woman gripping the handle of her sword stepping in front of you while another one, though shorter blocked your escape by interposing her staff.

“No funny business, friend. You have something that belongs to my companion here, and he wants it back.” The half-orc speaks as you grit your teeth. You’d really hoped to avoid this but you weren’t stupid enough to bring out the big artillery… yet… so you lift your hands in surrender and allow them to lead you over to one of the tables taking a seat of your own accord while you’re flanked by the buff woman on one side, the purple tiefling on the other and the rest of them takes up seating of their own around the table keeping an eye on you.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” The half-orc leads as the tiefling next to you holds out his hand brushing his other over your shoulder in a soft push, mimicking what you had done when you pickpocketed him. Are they mocking you? Bastards.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, friend.” You speak innocently. You know they won’t buy it anyway, their minds already made up, but it gives you just a second more to get a grasp on all of them. You’re already plotting your escape, despite the odds being turned against you. You have to try.

“Oh, I think you do, and we simply want a conversation. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this new friendship now would you?” The tiefling grins as you look at him. You can feel the strings of enchantment pricking into your mind but you know how this works. You’ll just have to play along. You smile, like being faced with an old friend, just as the spell would have you have, letting your defensive mannerism fade.

“You’re quite right. It’s no way to treat new friends. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.” You glance between all of them and you feel a pair of blue eyes stare into you, right through you. There’s just something about him that doesn’t add up and you’re almost afraid he knows you’re not under the tiefling’s spell after all but you do whatever you can to not show that on your face and play along.

“Should we get some drinks to commemorate new friends?” You suggest about to get up but the woman in blue’s staff moves across the table right onto your shoulder urging you to stay in place. You don’t look fazed and merely amused with this action as if it is a harmless joke and not a threat. The tiefling moves the staff from your shoulder as you turn your attention back to him as he smiles.

“I think that’s an absolutely wonderful idea. Drinks on me.” He stands with you and begins leading you over to the bar. Clive takes the order and begins pouring the ale as requested while the tiefling keeps conversation with you, completely oblivious and detached from his friends. You play along and when you reach to the coin pouch, you pull out the coins owed to the barkeep. The tiefling smiles and you can see from your peripheral the red head notices too. Both confirm you have the coin pouch. So once you pay you reach for your pocket grasping for a short iron rod placing it in your hand, whispering words under your breath as the tiefling talks to the barkeep, your hands begin to move according to the familiar motions and before the redhead can warn his lavender companion, the tiefling is frozen in place unable to move and you’re making a break for the door.

Spells fly left and right and you dodge a few, take the damage from others as the fighters dependant on close range rush for you. A crossbow bolt hits your thigh and a large cat’s claw appears in front of you. You try to dodge it reaching for you but it catches you and holds you in place despite your struggling to get free. They circle you, bind your hands, take back the coin pouch and your own limited belongings from you as you fight back trying to keep them away from you but you’re just alone and they are the many.

You feel helpless and desperate. That’s when you make eye contact with the blue eyed wizard. There’s a look of recognition in his eyes. Not for who you are directly, but the way you’re acting and lashing out, like some caged animal wishing desperately to be free, like a creature on the run, like you’re two sides of the same coin. His eyes reveal to you pain and suffering and pity but you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone’s pity.

“Why did you steal that coin?” The wizard asks as you glare at him from your seated position on the ground.

“Why does anybody steal anything? I’m hungry. I’m cold and I’m broke as hell.” You spit none too kindly.

“Then get a job. Make some money. Or at least learn to be a good thief.” The rude woman snorts. You roll your eyes. Typical. You know plenty of people like her, maybe you even used to be like her but not anymore. You grew out of that the hard way. She will too, in time.

“None of you noticed until you went to pay for something.” You grin and the woman is about to lunge for you at your provocation. So easy to piss that one off. Funny, actually.

“I don’t think she can just get a job. Not a regular one anyway.” The wizard observes as he stares into you. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Your silence, biting your lip says enough. You don’t have anywhere to go. Once you did but that’s gone. Torn away from you.

“How about this? You spent a good deal of my friend’s coin but we’ll give you the opportunity to make it back as a repayment. Stick around for a little bit and go our separate ways when the debt is repaid?” There’s some protests but the half-orc quiets them down when the wizard speaks up in your favour. He doesn’t trust you, not after the stunts you just pulled, especially not when the look on your face mirrors his own so closely but perhaps it’s something within him that calls to him to make right a wrong, or prevent another soul to be lost to the troubles he’s faced.

With these idiots bound to make a scene they’ll call attention to themselves and by default that means away from you. This might work in your favour. They’re adventurers and given that they seem somewhat familiar with the Evening Nip, you can only assume they’re not exactly always on the right side of the law. You’re not judging but that gives you some safety and assurance should things go south or you need a quick way out. And if things really do turn in your favour, they’ll be your cover to places and funds to get you far far away from this hell hole.

“Looks like you got yourselves a new companion then, friends.” You don’t smile, only displaying an expression so neutral that makes the wizard think for a second he might have made a mistake but for now you have mutual interests and if there’s anything he can count on, it’s the reliability of a common goal, and a lot to lose should you get outed.

So next you know, you’re somewhat absorbed into their little group, learning their names and where they’re from, chatting happily but you can’t help but notice that yours and Caleb’s stories are similar in some ways, mostly the lack of detail. You’ve been raised within the Empire, but found yourself on a less fortunate path fending for yourself. The only difference between you and him is that he found Nott on his path while you had remained alone. The group didn’t seem to mind your lack of details, going with the excuse you’re not about to bare your life story to the people you only just met and you’re lucky. You hadn’t told anyone what happened since you’ve been on the run and you don’t plan on doing so anytime soon, especially not to people who haven’t earned your trust yet.

Of course you’ve been roomed with Caleb and Nott, finding yourself in one of the most expensive inns in the city, paid for by the group. Unlike Nott, who goes through your stuff when she thinks you’re not looking, Caleb is the perfect roommate. He doesn’t cross any boundaries, ask too many questions or has any annoying habits. He just reclines on his bed, going through his spellbook, transcribing new spells to add to his own collection. Every time he does you get extremely uneasy and snappy and do whatever you can to not be in the same space as the wizard. It doesn’t do your roommate relationship any good and may leave you at odds at times. Caleb may not understand why but it’s not his place to ask questions, nor does he think you’ll actually answer them. Instead you make up excuses, helping Beau with training, letting Jester braid your hair, keeping Fjord company while Molly claims their room for one of his escapades, getting some booze for Nott, or when Yasha is there, watch the storms with the woman, anything to get you out of that shared room with the wizard.

————

Rain hits the window of your room in the Pillow Trove as the redheaded wizard strolls in throwing his backpack on his bed and sitting down with a deep sigh. You look up over the edge of the book you’re reading seeing the wizard soaked through the bone wringing out his hair best he can. With a wave of your hand and words uttered under your breath you grin as the water evaporates from Caleb’s form, leaving his hair slightly more curly and frizzy, and his clothes warm and comfy. He gives you a look as you continue reading as if you’re completely unaware of anything going on in the room, completely absorbed into your book. Ignoring Caleb.

“I didn’t take you for the type that reads smutty romance novels.” He comments and gestures towards Courting of the Crick. You finally look at Caleb as if he only just gained your attention, as if you’re only just aware of his presence in the room. Both of you know better but this is how it is.

“You wouldn’t. But according to Jester you enjoy them very much.” You grin, having gotten to hear all about their little trip to the Chastity’s Nook. Caleb gives you a disapproving look as he begins to unpack his things, taking out the fresh ink and paper, setting out his spellbook and you mark your page, putting the book on your side table as you quickly get up and go for the door.

“Where are you off to all of the sudden?” Caleb asks as you grit your teeth. Can he not just leave you alone? Does he really trust you so little you’re not allowed to leave of your own accord?

“I’m going to see Jester and Beau in their room. Now I will bid you good day unless you think I need an escort for the room two doors down.” You snap. Okay, that may have been unnecessary. You could have at least been neutral. Too late for that now. Caleb waves his and as if dismissing you. Act like a child, get treated like a child. So you leave the room letting the door fall closed a little harder than you normally would in protest and make your way over towards Beau and Jester’s room.

Jester, happily lets you in and while Beau has definitely warmed up to you, things are still rocky. She wouldn’t go as far as calling you a friend, but more that one neighbourhood kid her parents tried to get her to play with despite the two of you never really having been friends at all. At least you can bond over your slightly criminal tendencies. It’s Jester who’s completely accepted you as one of her own, questioning you about anything and everything, preaching to you about the Traveler, gushing about her romance novels, specifically Oskar, which you’re pretty sure is actually reflecting her major crush on Fjord but let the girl dream. Who knows what will come of it?

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.2

"Oh my god!" Your shriek nearly deafened the yaksha while your nails dug into his shoulder and back. The wind whipped your hair into both of your faces, much to his dismay as he struggled to keep track of his footing. "This is crazy! This is awesome!" Another leap and your heart dropped to your stomach in a fashion that sucked the breath out of your lungs. "W-wait this is terrifying! Xiao! Slow down!"

You asked for this yet have the audacity to panic? Xiao tensed under the increasing grip around his body and made another leap. Well, a 'leap' is a bit of an understatement; whether he was teleporting or zipping through the air, you couldn't tell--it happened so fast your mind couldn't keep up. The two of you were nearing the top of Mount Tianheng, and with every 'jump' he took you'd look down to find another fifty or so feet added to the distance between you two and the ground.

Just as Xiao was beginning to think you wanted him to stop, an exasperated laugh left your lips. "This is awesome!"

The yaksha clicked his tongue at the myriad of sounds you were making. First you were screaming with excitement, then terror, then laughing, and now you're gasping? Will you just make up your mind? Are you scared or not scared? He couldn't keep up with your quick switches just as you couldn't keep up with his speed.

And then there was the fact that you asked him specifically to carry you up the mountain, not climb up with you or merely teleport to the top. Was this the duty of a boy friend? He didn't recall you ordering Aether to carry you at all during your travels. Minus the time you had your leg clawed by that lawachurl, but that doesn't really count--

His feet lightly landed onto the grass at the top of the mountain and he stilled, stealing a glance at your profile. "We're here." Archons, your grip finally relaxed against his stinging skin. He was expecting that classic dumbfounded look on your face, but you pulled away with the widest--and dumbest--grin once your feet lowered to the ground.

"That was amazing-!" You nearly lost your balance from the vertigo of travelling so quickly, but Xiao grabbed your arm before you could stumble over the edge of the cliff. "Can we do that again?"

"You can't be serious," his eyes narrowed in disdain.

"One hundred percent! Come on, please?"

Wha-What is this all of a sudden?! Xiao averted his eyes the second your pleading ones took hold. He let go of your arm as his gaze fell to the grass.

You couldn't contain the gasp within your lips, "You're...blushing?" You don't remember if it's happened before, but the very tips of his ears were pink and it was painfully obvious in the sunlight of late morning. "Xiao, the Vigilant Yaksha, BLUSHING?!"

"I suggest you keep your quips to a minimum unless you--"

"I can't believe this is happening! What did I do to make you blush? You're ears are bright red!" Your hands cupped the sides of your face as you freaked out. He was so neutral when it came to emotion, but the past sixteen hours or so he's shown you more of his vulnerable side. But the adeptus was visibly showing emotion! "This never happened before!"

"There's nothing timid about you, having the courage to mock me. So fight me," he started to raise his glare from the ground. "How long do you think your body will last against my blows?"

"Rex Lapis must've blessed me-!"

In your excitement, you failed to remember that the ledge was right behind you. One second you were laughing your ass off with a face as bright red as Xiao's, and the next you were flailing breathlessly in the air attempting to find solid ground. Xiao's figure shrunk at the top of the cliff as you plummeted. The shock rendered you unable to scream and instead you gasped for breath as the wind whistled in your ears.

Xiao lifted his gaze in time to watch you fall over, and he simply moved so that his gaze could still follow your shrinking figure. "It's a wonder humans survived this long," he muttered with a slightly amused expression. Does she not realize she has her wind glider? He failed to notice the corner of his lips curling upward.

He had no intention of letting you plummet to your death. But after the stunt you just pulled on him, he figured it wouldn't hurt to tease you a bit too. You were by no means anywhere near the ground or any other hazardous objects; his enhanced vision and depth perception confirmed it. Why not let you fall a bit? Maybe your wits would return to you and you'd actually remember the glider attached to your back.

Three...four...five...Xiao counted the seconds. You were nearly half-way down the cliffside. ...Six...She's not going to remember, is she? Seven..."Tch." He prepared to jump.

I-I'm going to die! You finally managed to inhale a reasonable amount of air, not daring to peek behind you at the ground that was closing in. Your thoughts were racing with nothing but panic. Think, think! Think of something! You wanted to smack yourself when you remembered who accompanied you. He wouldn't just let you die like this, it was stupid of you to even forget that much! You involuntarily reached for the cliffside where Xiao was now nothing but a miniscule dot in the distance.

"Xiao!"

Warm arms wrapped themselves around you the instant his name fell from your lips, and the familiar sensation of teleporting enveloped you. You spun around and hugged him as tightly as you could the second your feet touched the ground. He didn't even tense up this time--

"You didn't remember your glider," he pointed out nonchalantly. Almost teasingly.

"That's why you just stood there?!" He grumbled something you couldn't hear and returned your embrace with his head buried at the crook of your neck. His ears were still red. Are you telling me this is how he acts when he's shy?!

The two of you stayed in that position for awhile, never quite loosening your hold on the other as if to ensure they wouldn't float away like an anemo slime or a bloaty floaty. A cool breeze slid across your skin--an intimate gesture Xiao wouldn't dare outright commit, much less think of. And yet the wind entangled itself in your hair much like his hand would clasp around your nape. It seemed to embody the long-lost gentleness of the yaksha. It was subtle. Soft. An indirect display of affection. Maybe it was just your imagination.

Just awhile longer, Xiao's heart yearned as he held you close until rational thought returned to power. Your absence would sting more now that he's seen you, but that didn't take away from the fact that this visit allowed the sealing of your bond, and therefore saved you from a painful demise for the time being. The last thing he wanted was for you to return to Childe, but maybe this is what would prevent his karma from touching you. The farther you are from him, the safer you'd be.

But for right now, just awhile longer, he'll allow himself to drown in your warmth.

...................

"You seem more than eager to get back to work, Mezzetin," Childe teased as he led you through the halls of the palace. The two of you had just returned to Snezhnaya, but the Tsaritsa had apparently no intentions of letting either of you rest after your long journey.

"Don't mistake my happiness for the Lantern Rite as happiness for the Tsaritsa's operations. I'm only cooperating to keep the peace in Teyvat."

"So, when are you going to tell me what you and Xiao did?"

"Excuse me? Since when is my private life any of your business?"

"I have the right to know since you so blatantly disobeyed my orders not to leave the harbor." Childe grabbed the door handle and faced you. "I expected more professionalism from you, but honestly, I'm not at all surprised," he baited with narrowed eyes. "I could tell the Tsaritsa, you know."

Your heart seemed to skip a beat at the thought of facing her again. Something about that nightmare you had when you were with Xiao ignited a vague fear of her that you didn't really have before. You swallowed hard before jutting your chin up at the harbinger. "Do it."

"Oh?" Childe squinted as he towered over you.

"Do it," you repeated. "Who do you think she'll discipline more, since it was a certain harbinger's idea to bring me along and didn't properly watch me?" Childe stared at you for a few silent seconds before twisting the door handle and entering Dottore's lab without another word. Yeah, that's what I thought.

"GAHHHHH!" A deafening, sickening cry of pain snapped you out of your gloating session. It was much like the rest that you've heard; the test subjects of Dottore were often strangers to mercy. But unlike the trials before, there were no piles of bodies lying in the middle of the arena.

"Did he just start for the day?" You forcefully peeled your eyes away from the suffering man and kept them on Childe. It would be unusual if he did; he started in the early morning hours, but you and Childe had arrived in mid-afternoon.

"Dunno," he shrugged slightly.

"Ah! Childe." Dottore noticed your presences and gave a signature manic grin, his arms spreading wide. "We have made a breakthrough!"

"This doesn't look like a breakthrough to me," you muttered loud enough for him to hear. Anger flickered across the masked man's face before he reset his eyes on his fellow harbinger.

"This is the fifth subject of the day." The man's cold stare eyed the suffering Fatui agent with something similar to a sadistic excitement. "It appears your idea to bring that brat with you succeeded."

You didn't hear Dottore, intent on watching the Fatui agent closely. He had finally stopped shrieking, and he pushed himself to his feet rather unsteadily while wiping the sweat away from his forehead. He was healthy despite being drenched in sweat and breathing heavily while he recovered from the subsiding pain. You let out a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding in. You didn't have to watch another person die at your feet--

Wait a minute. He wasn't dying.

A cool shiver crawled down your spine at the realization, and you flinched when a manic laugh escaped Dottore. "That was the original serum at work. How's that for a breakthrough, brat?"

"That's...impossible," you uttered with wide eyes.

"Thank your superior for making it possible."

Your attention slid to Childe, who didn't bother to look you in the eye. His expression was unreadable, and it remained that way when he escorted you to your room in silence. His presence couldn't feel more hostile in that moment.

"You...my bond...," you choked when the two of you were at the door of your room. "You lied. You used me! You used our bond for your own selfish purposes! How could you?"

"Don't start this, Mezzetin," a weary sigh left him as he turned to you. His allegedly guilty appearance only infuriated you.

"Outside, now."

The second the two of you were outside the palace walls, you let yourself snap into a fit of rage. Childe had barely started to turn around when an ice shard shot at his face, slicing across his cheek. His blood splattered onto the snow, and he wiped at his face to examine his blood on his fingers. "Mezzetin--"

"Don't 'Mezzetin' me!" Hundreds more icicles shot at him in a flurry until he had no choice but to defend himself and summon his hydro blades to parry the blows. "This was the last straw! I'll kill you!"

"Then I'll be more than happy to give you a fight." Despite his usual excitement when it came to battle, he was calm and collected, even so much as cold and distant. He lacked the usual spark fighting always gave him. His eyes were empty and lacking of enthusiasm.

"Tch." Your vision glinted in the sunlight as the temperature surrounding you dropped below zero. Snow whipped through the air to create a barricade that caged the two of you in a small arena. The blizzard made the snowflakes like needles that could cut through skin if one got too close to the edge. Your own powers seldom hurt you, but in your anger, a few rogue icicles cut across your forehead, arms, and your back.

At the pace you were going at, it was self-destructive.

Childe noted this as he parried your every attack despite his blades turning frozen solid now. "Mezzetin! Keep this up, and I won't hold back!" His warning fell on deaf ears.

"What makes you think I want you to hold back? I'm settling this here and NOW!" The snow beneath his feet erupted, sending him spiraling out of the eye of the storm and into the blizzard's rage. You summoned your polearm without hesitation and began to walk towards him.

His arms were stuck to his blades, which were stuck in the ground. He must've attempted to summon a new set and accidentally froze his limbs. He watched you approach, hunched over to shield himself from the blizzard.

"You said visiting him would be good for me!" Your screams were carried away by the wind. "That you realized your own selfishness! This was nothing but more manipulation, wasn't it? You're NOTHING but a lying monster!" The wind grew harsher. Your blade grew sharper once you were a few feet from him.

Cold eyes looked down upon the Tsaritsa's war dog. What a pathetic site it was; an esteemed harbinger on his knees before you. A harsh kick to his jaw dislodged his hands from the ice they were trapped in, and more blood was splattered onto the snow.

"That's it," a smile of satisfaction spread across Childe's lips, making your eyes narrow in disgust. "You're finally showing potential." He sat up with his back to you. "If you constantly fight like this, I'd listen to you more carefully."

"Shut up--!" Your lance stabbed at his figure, but in one fluid motion he swung around and deflected your blade with his hand. A sudden burst of electricity sent you flying several feet backwards. "Ngh!"

"But unfortunately for you, ojou-chan, you misinterpreted the entire situation." Your clearing vision settled on the electro delusion that glinted at his hip. His figure stood over you and a sharp, hot pain tore through your side.

"Gah!"

"I have the right to discipline my subordinates as I see fit," he twisted his blade and dug it deeper into you, completely uncaring that you were squirming around and twitching from the electric shocks pulsing through your body. "Listen closely, girlie, because I won't say it again." You desperately clawed at his weapon, but he held it firmly in place and refused to remove it. "You needn't tell me what you learned from Mr. Zhongli or your adeptus boyfriend. I don't care for that information.

"My bringing you back to Liyue was truly for your own benefit, and it just so happens it was for the Tsaritsa's benefit as well. Make no mistake Mezzetin, I am on your side when it comes to private life. But when it comes to work and the Tsaritsa, my loyalty lies with Snezhnaya.

"I don't care if you don't believe me. If you so badly want to escape the Tsaritsa's grasp, you have much to learn. Patience, for starters." He ripped his blade out of you. "Don't take this too personally, ojou-chan. I don't condone disorderly conduct from anyone under my supervision."

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao #xiao one shot #xiao fanfiction #fanfiction #say my name and ill be there #childe #tartaglia #childe genshin impact #genshin impact childe #tartaglia genshin impact

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emkay512 · 3 years

Text

Once Upon A Time

Chapter 3

Summary: This starts at the beginning of TRR book 2 with the Fydelia ball but with a different series of events. This AU is based off the show Once Upon a Time with Riley and Liam mirroring Snow and Charming. Characters belong to Pixelberry.

A/N: I felt like I needed to still post this, even though I’m terrified with living up to my own hype. Let me know what you guys think.

A/N 2: thank you for pre-reading @queenrileyrose and @sfb123 both of you have given me such encouragement and I really appreciate it!

Warnings: This will contain NSFW adult language and content. By reading, you acknowledge you are 18 and over.

I’m keeping the same tags from my earlier post, please let me know if you want to be removed, absolutely no hard feelings! If you’d like to be tagged, I would be happy to add you!

Tags: @burnsoslow @ao719 @kat-tia801 @callmeellabella @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @iluaaa @jared2612 @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @secretaryunpaid @ladyangel70 @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @shanzay44 @ofpixelsandscribbles

“Wait.... what!?” Drake’s face had gone white with shock. “But, we all saw! We all saw her fall in love with you. She loves you for sure Li, what the hell is going on!?” Despite his best efforts, Drake had come to accept Riley as an important person in his life, she was a truly trustworthy friend and she was a chance to see his best friend marry for love. Surely she’d never give up on hope and love, she was the epitome of both.

Liam wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he watched the latch on his bedroom door shut with Riley’s departure. He had dropped to his knees unable to stand with the weight of his broken heart still staring at the door trying to unsee what just happened. He was so sure of her love for him, he had never seen such happiness and sincerity exist in his life than when she told him she loved him in the hedge maze at his coronation ball. All this time he’d been apart from her was spent planning for a solution, clinging to the memory of her smile the last time he saw her before getting engaged.

Getting engaged. Then he started to think about the effect this had on her. He hated himself, she was vulnerable and abandoned, of course she’d fall out of love. Liam’s head was still foggy, but he remembered pouring two glasses of whiskey and calling Drake to meet him and briefly telling him what happened and now getting his reaction.

“You.. you don’t understand.” Liam was still just only choking out words. It was bad enough to live in this reality, but to have to utter the words and make someone else understand what was happening was like living his nightmare over again. “She said she did love me, or that maybe she did, or that she couldn’t love me anymore... God, it feels like it all happened so fast! I can barely get my head straight!” His tone was clearly crossing into frustration, he lifted both hands to his head and balled his fists into his hair while groaning out his hurt and anger. “This is my fucking fault.. in so many ways, Drake. She said I let too much time pass, that it convinced her that I should forget about her, and that she didn’t love me. I should have protected her from those goddamn photos and fucking Tariq. I never should have gotten engaged to Madeleine, and I shouldn’t have kept her away.” Liam was huffing his words.

This was difficult for Drake. He’d never seen his best friend so defeated like this. Liam always knew how to maintain his stoicism keeping an air of calm and rationalism. But that was not the man before him now, Liam was completely disheveled with eyes bright red from all his earlier sobbing, he looked completely broken. Drake understood the pain, he knew all too well how easy it was to fall for a girl like Riley, but like he said, their entire gang watched them fall head over heels for each other, and that was what he wanted for both of them.

Drake knew he needed to reel Liam back in, and once he could get the full picture, he’d know how to return Liam to his sharp tactical self. “Ok, ok, ok. I know your feelings are all mixed up, and judging by your overall behavior it looks like you hit the whiskey long before I got here, and I’m sorry, but I need you to get a grip and tell me everything.”

Liam nodded and sucked a breath in recalling everything. How she walked in his room, how he thought he was protecting her, how she said he didn’t want to know who was responsible, how she noticed the missing lock on the door, and how she walked out. Drake felt like he hadn’t blinked once after hearing everything and he could see it seemed these obvious clues hadn’t dawned on Liam. “Li, it sounds like she gave you like a dozen red flags. You didn’t press on any of those strange things she said and did?”

Liam wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. “I.. all my instinctual strategies were out the window. I couldn’t focus on anything at fucking all except the sound of being dumped. There’s no tactical training on having your heart smashed since this bloody institution snuffs out the idea of love from day one. I feel like my mother was the only exception, and look what happened to her.”

Drake sighed and pinched the top of his nose with closed eyes. He himself was having a hard time comprehending things, he couldn’t imagine Liam’s anguish. “Look. First of all. This is not your fucking fault. There is clearly something large at play here, and you and Brooks seem to be the center. I think... I think Brooks knows something. She’s a smart girl and I think she was leaving you clues.” Liam could feel the gears moving in his mind as Drake went on. “It’s odd that she just walked in through the door.. how would she have just walked through the halls undetected? Weren’t you expecting her on the balcony? Which, by the way... wild expectation, bro. Shouldn’t Romeo be beckoning Juliette on the balcony, not the other way around?” Liam side eyed him hard, yes they’re best friends, but really? Was now the time to bust his balls? Drake couldn’t help himself and continued, “When you told her you wanted to find out who was responsible for the tabloid photos, why did she try to convince you to stop? It would be one thing if she just wanted to end things, but why mention that you wouldn’t want to know who it was? To me, these suggest that she either knows or has an idea who the culprit is. Then, the smoking gun. Another lock-less door and her freely walking out again.”

Liam shot up, determined and clear headed. “You’re right. I won’t play victim to this scheme and I sure as hell won’t let her be one either. Ok. We need to get a hold of Maxwell, either she’ll talk to him, or we can have him check on her without any suspicion.”

“Then I’ll call him so it can’t be immediately traced to you.” Drake pulled out his phone and clicked Maxwell’s name putting the line on speaker.

“Yo, Drakester! What’s up? Hate to break it to you, but the party’s over, you missed it.”

Already annoyed, Drake responded, “Cut the crap, Beaumont. We got a problem, Riley is gone, have you seen her? You need to check her room, but for the love of god, do it quietly.”

“What the hell are you talking about, I just left her, she was on her way to see Liam. Drake, please don’t tell me you’re cock blocking the king.”

Drake and Liam had no time for Maxwell’s carefree antics, they were both on strategy mode. Hearing this, Liam spoke first, “Ok so we know she was always on her way to see me with the intention of actually being with me. Something happened between her leaving Maxwell and her walking into my room.”

Maxwell was completely shocked to hear Liam’s voice on the line and started to panic that what Drake had said might be true, “Liam!? So she’s really gone? Last I saw her was getting her outside, as she was on her way to your balcony..”

She does love me. Was Liam’s immediate thought when Maxwell said she was on her way to his balcony.

As Maxwell recounted his interactions, Drake and Liam ignored any of his inquiries and focused on each other, working out the information they were getting.

“So she had to have been intercepted..” Liam realized. “Someone TOOK her!”

“Guys...” Maxwell was still being ignored on the line

“...And convinced her to say those things to you. Blackmail. It’s the only explanation.” Drake was finishing out the same conclusion Liam was getting to.

“Guys!!” Maxwell screamed and got their attention. “I made it to her room, we’re too late, it’s been ransacked. She’s on the run. What. Happened?”

Drake filled him in with strict instruction to keep this a secret, they would have to investigate quietly to prevent getting caught. He disconnected the call and looked at Liam, “Ok, she’s MIA, which only supports the theory of blackmail. If she was making a voluntary move back home, she would have said goodbye. We just need to find out where she went.”

Liam squared his shoulders and steeled his expression, now knowing he was on a rescue mission, “I’ll find her, I will always find her.”

#choices trr #king liam #liam x riley #choices #trr #the royal romance

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fanfic-she-wrote · 3 years

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Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Dracula helped you out of the coffin and held you close in his arms, not wanting to ever let you go again.

"Vlad, I was so scared." You told him, pressing your face into his chest.

"Me too." He said, stroking your hair. So he was right after all. You were Maria. You had finally come back to him at last.

You still felt weak and held on to Dracula for support. Not only did you feel weak, but you felt... different. You didn't know what it was, but it was like all your senses were maxed out. It was so overwhelming. There was also this new scent that you discovered. It smelled delicious, but what was it? You wondered looking around trying to find the source.

"What did you mean that you remember everything?" Van Helsing asked, concerned for you.

You faced him, realizing just where that smell was coming from. Your eyes shined bright red, an intense hunger in them...hunger for blood. Normally you would have been repelled by such a thing, but right now you needed it more than ever. Van Helsing watched you nervously as you inched toward him.

"Y/N?" He said nervously backing away, but you did not answer. All you could think about was his blood, the taste of it on your lips. Dracula noticing your odd behavior, grabbed you by your shoulders and held you back. Why? He did not know. He had wanted to kill Van Helsing himself earlier. Perhaps he was trying to prevent you from doing something you would regret.

You squirmed, trying to wriggle free, but Dracula held you firmly in place. "Let me go!" You hissed at him, revealing for the first time your fresh new set of fangs. Van Helsing stared at you wide eyed. What had he done? You were no longer the sweet, brave, and kind Y/N, you were now a monster. He should never have let Dracula turn you. But then you would be dead...looking at you now, maybe it would have been better that way. He just lost it in a moment of grief.

"Calm down, darling." Dracula spoke in a soft voice, trying to soothe you. "You will feed soon, I promise."

Van Helsing glanced up at him. "What do you mean?"

"She is in a very crucial time right now. She needs to feed." Dracula urgently explained to him.

"So what will you do, go kill another innocent person?" He asked, raising his voice.

"We have no choice."

Van Helsing sighed. "Then she can have some of mine."

"That is not necessary, Doctor Van Helsing." He refused.

"Yes it is. I won't have you or her killing anyone else. I'll run into town and get my supplies. I'll be back soon." He said, buttoning up his coat, turning to leave.

"Henry, take the coach if it's still there and take him home." Dracula ordered. Henry nodded and promptly followed Van Helsing out.

A few minutes later the tapping of horseshoes against the ground could be heard as they disappeared into the night leaving you and Dracula alone. You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh, then looked up at him.

"Is that what it's like for you all the time?" You asked, now realizing how difficult life was for him. How tempting it was to feed on human blood. Even now with no mortals around, you desired it. Dracula simply nodded. "It's horrible...I can't believe I wanted to...to..." You winced at the thought of hurting, maybe even killing Lawrence. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you close.

"Come, let's wait for them upstairs." Dracula said, guiding you from the dungeons and up the stairs. When you reached the entry hall your mouth fell open in shock. This was the first time you had seen the castle in ruins. You felt a very intense anger. How dare the townspeople do this to your home, to Dracula's home!

"What do we do Vlad?" You ask, looking around. He squeezed your shoulder and replied, "We'll find some place else. Anywhere is home as long as I have you."

As you waited for Van Helsing to return, your mind wandered. You thought about how strange fate was. In your previous life you were married to Dracula and Van Helsing was his power hungry step-brother who killed you. In this life you were Van Helsing's friend who ultimately reunited you with your lover.

"What's wrong?" Dracula asked, noticing how quiet you had become.

"I was just thinking. What happened after...after I died all those years ago?" You asked. Dracula knew this question was inevitable now.

"Well, Van Helsing fled and joined the Turks. Soon after, we went to war and I was killed during one of the battles. As I lay there dying from my wounds, the devil appeared to me. I sold my soul and in return I would have my revenge on the Van Helsings." He told you.

"That's when you became one of the living dead?" You asked. He nodded. "But Lawrence doesn't know about any of that. He told me he wanted to get rid of you because he thought you were a threat to humanity."

"He's right. I am." He admitted. "I didn't care how many lives I took. How much blood I spilled. None of them mattered as long as I didn't have you. I was just as ruthless in life as I am in death."

"And now?"

He paused for a moment, thinking. "I don't know..."

Suddenly, from out of the wreckage you heard some rustling followed by a series of painful moans. Dracula pushed you behind him ready to attack whatever it was. From beneath the debris, a man crawled out. He was covered in dirt and blood, the smell instantly flooded your nostrils. "H-help me..." The man pleaded as he slowly pulled himself across the floor. Dracula looked over at you and saw the hunger return in your eyes and how you licked your lips, desperate for just a little taste. He didn't want to admit how turned on he was by this. He smiled and stepped aside, letting you pass. He wasn't about to let you miss out on your first meal.

Your eyes were fixed on the man before you, like a predator staring down it's prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

"I'll help you." You lied, your voice sounding menacing.

"Oh, thank you I-" He peered up at you and saw what you had become and let out a blood curdling scream. "Nonnnoo! Please!" He cried, cowering away, but you didn't hear him. You were focused on one thing. You grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off the ground making him eye-level with you. You hesitated for a moment. You knew you shouldnt. That this was bad, but he did try to kill you and your love after all. He deserved it. Your mouth was practically watering as the sound of his pulse pounded against your eardrums. Dracula stood behind you and whispered in your ear, "Do it." Before the man could utter another plea for mercy, you sunk your fangs deep into his neck. His blood dripped down your lips and chin as you sucked every last drop from his body. Dracula wanted you now more than ever. You moaned and threw your head back enjoying the taste of blood as it ran down your throat. Once you were finished, you tossed the corpse back into the rubble he crawled out of.

"How do you feel now?" Dracula asked, eyeing you lustfully. You grinned at him. "Much better, darling." You answered in a husky voice, running your finger under his chin. Unable to resist you a moment longer, he twirled you around and pressed you flush against him. Leaning down he licked some of the blood from your lips, then he roughly pressed his mouth on yours. He could still taste the blood as he slipped his tongue inside. It drove him mad. You couldn't help but let out a moan when he suddenly nipped your bottom lip as he pulled away. You both stared longingly into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity.

You went to kiss him again, but were interupted when Henry and Van Helsing returned.

"Y/N! What have you done?!" He exclaimed noticing the fresh blood around your lips, running towards you. He looked down at the man's lifeless body, a horrified expression on his face. "You killed him..."

"What of it?" Dracula sneered.

"Don't you understand? She killed an innocent man!" He yelled.

"He wasn't so innocent when he tried to kill us." You quickly pointed out.

"Y/N, why? I thought you were better than this."

"I guess I'm not who you thought I was." You said coldly. Van Helsing felt his heart break again at how much you changed. He wanted to take you far away from here, far away from Dracula. To try to find a way to get his Y/N back. He'd rather you be dead than live out eternity like this...Van Helsing sighed. He had no other choice. He had to kill you and Dracula before it was too late.

"I guess not." He agreed. "There's nothing more I can do if this is the life you've chosen. I'm leaving for London tomorrow." Dracula eyed him suspiciously. Was he really willing to just leave you alone? To just ignore the fact that you might kill again. Did he really care for you that much?

"Will I ever see you again?" You asked, still wishing to remain friends. Even though his ancestor had murdered you in your past life you didn't hold it against Lawrence. He was different.

"No, I don't think so." He replied, looking away.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said sadly, but you understood.

"I am as well." Van Helsing said. You pulled away from Dracula and went over to your friend, pulling him into a hug. Why did you have to do that? He thought. It only made things more difficult for him. He knew the real you was still in there somewhere, but the vampire took her place leaving a shell of what you once were. You placed a quick peck on his cheek and backed away.

"Goodbye, Y/N." He said, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see you alive, knowing that when the sun came up it was up to him to end your damned existence. He turned and left without another word.

Dracula felt your distress and wrapped you in his arms in a comforting embrace. It was getting close to dawn now. He needed to find you a coffin before daylight broke. So, after he knew you were alright he left with Henry to the local cemetery to find you a coffin.

You wandered the castle ruins thinking about Lawrence. He had been your only friend in the world till now. No one else had stopped to give you a second thought, but he did. He was there for you when no one else was. At one point before you came to Transylvania, you thought you loved him, but he was too involved in his work. His work was his ultimate passion, and you knew you couldn't compete, so you never did. You sometimes wondered what it would be like if you had chosen a life with Van Helsing. Would you be a silly little domestic couple with a house and kids? It was an amusing thought, but neither of you were the type.

Finally, Dracula and Henry returned a little while later carrying a coffin. It wasnt anything fancy, but it would do. Perhaps later, you could get a better one. Sunlight started peeking in through the windows as they hurriedly carried it into the dungeons, placing your coffin beside Dracula's.

"Too bad they don't make couple's coffins." You joked.

"Maybe we could have one made." He teased, kissing your neck where he had bitten you, making you shudder. "I love you." You said softly running your fingers through his hair.

"I love you too." It was so pleasant to hear him utter those words. You wanted to hear him say it again and again.

"Sleep well, darling." You said with a yawn, as you lay down suddenly feeling tired. You took one last look at him before shutting the lid. This wasn't an ideal lifestyle, but you loved him and that's all that mattered.

The sun rose into the sky and the birds began to sing their morning song. It would have been a beautiful day if it not had been for the task that Van Helsing had set out to do. He crept back inside the castle, bag in hand, being careful not wanting to draw attention to himself. He stood in the doorway to the dungeons, contemplating his next move. His chest was heavy as the thought about driving a stake into your heart. But he had to do it. He slowly opened the door and walked inside, and down the flight of stairs to the room where Dracula's coffin had been earlier. Now he noticed, that there were two coffins lying side by side, one belonging to you.

He reached inside his bag and pulled out a hammer and a couple of stakes. Van Helsing strode over to your coffin and pulled open the lid. Inside, you lay looking peaceful and content, a small smile on your face. If only it didn't have to be this way...

He pressed the stake between your breasts and raised the hammer high into the air, ready to strike. But he couldn't. The longer he stared down into your beautiful face, the harder it became to do it. He closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look at you...But he just couldnt. Why was this so difficult?

Suddenly, a voice shouted out behind him startling him. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Henry shouted, running at him, tackling him to the ground.

"Stop!" Lawrence yelled, shoving Henry off of him. Not listening, Henry raised his fist and slammed it into the side of Van Helsing's face, quickly tearing the stake and hammer out of his grasp.

He shook his head, feeling dazed for a moment.

"How could you do that?! I thought you wanted her alive?!" Henry asked throwing away his weapons across the room.

"I did, but after seeing what she has become I couldnt let her live like that...but I can't do it. I can't release her from this curse....It's all my fault." Van Helsing sobbed, his head throbbing. This is why he never let anyone get close to him in the first place. He had only himself to blame for this. There had to be another way and he was going to find it by any means necessary.

#not my best work #pretty satisfied with it tho #i think this might have more parts than i planned #hope you guys like it!#dracula x reader #van helsing x reader #hammer dracula #x reader #reader inserts #christopher lee

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taexual · 4 years

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i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (13)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst, years of longing escalating into something serious

words: 8.6k (send help)

chapter thirteen

The lamp posts on the street illuminated Jungkook’s face with a warm yellow haze as the two of you walked back to your dormitory, the noise of the party – and the argument you’d had outside of it – already behind you. You didn’t dare to watch him for longer than just a split-second but you could feel his eyes on you when he thought you were too focused on the pavement to notice.

You hadn’t said a word to each other since you left the front yard of his house – and that was already two and a half blocks away – and both of you were busy worrying what the right way to say goodbye once you reached your dorm was. A wave didn’t feel enough but a hug seemed inappropriate after the intense conversation you’d had.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook volunteered to make your trip less awkward.

“Were you actually going to have me arrested?” he asked, recalling your previous threat with surprising clarity – probably because it had impressed him so much.

You sighed, recognizing the amusement on his features – no matter how hard he tried to play it off as simple curiosity – and then said, “no, probably not. That would have only ruined your whole plan and your future—”

“I already have a record,” he pointed out. He said it like that was supposed to make you feel better – it’s totally fine if you get me arrested, you know – but you almost stopped walking in surprise.

“Y-you do?” you asked, unable to fathom how a family as rich as his could not find a way to ensure their beloved son remained a flawless citizen.

“It’s not the first time I got into a fight,” he explained simply and, if you hadn’t known the truth, you’d have thought he really was just your usual troublemaker with no strong backing from his relatives whatsoever. “Some of those fights were more public than others.”

“And your dad—?”

“He took care of it to the best of his ability,” Jungkook admitted, sounding far less dignified than when he mentioned he had a record – as if that was something to be proud of. “But he can only do so much without staining his own reputation. It’s just a few misdemeanors anyway, so he decided it wasn’t worth it. If it proved to be a problem later on, he thought he could just blame it on my youth.”

You chose not to voice it – to avoid an argument that would certainly arise because that was just how Jungkook was – but you couldn’t help thinking that his father’s reasoning was actually different. Maybe he chose not to cover Jungkook’s previous arrest up to teach him a lesson.

“Does that bother you?” you asked instead.

“What?

“That he didn’t put enough work to cover this up.”

Jungkook looked down. All of your questions about his feelings, his wishes, his ambitions were so unusual to him that he didn’t even know what the proper way of answering them was, because you looked like you genuinely wanted to know. You didn’t ask just to be polite.

“No,” he ended up saying, “I didn’t want him to cover it up. And it’s not like I acted out to get his attention, or anything. He seemed really tired of it all when he had to deal with that. You know he’s usually the sort who gets his frustrations out vocally?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Well, when he picked me up from the police station, he didn’t say a word,” Jungkook said. “It was like I’d unlocked a new level of disappointment – one I’d never seen before – where he was just quietly fuming. Or just… so disappointed, he couldn’t even begin to find words.”

You felt jittery. It was hard to walk when your legs kept trying to bounce nervously, hoping to rid you of the excessive anxiety.

“I never knew this,” you said.

Jungkook gave you a smile that wasn’t supposed to seem sad but, because it was purposefully meant to conceal his despair, sad was exactly what it seemed like.

“My mom didn’t tell yours,” he said.

“But they tell each other everything,” you felt the need to point out but you could feel your own naivety getting the best of you – even the people, who had no secrets, had secrets.

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook replied. “But I don’t think my mom would have had it in her to brag to her best friend – with a straight-A student for a daughter – that her son got arrested. She may have been less obvious than my dad, but she was still just as disappointed.”

Your heart clenched uncomfortably when he mentioned your scholarly achievements and, for a brief moment, you almost felt bad for being such a good student when he was struggling to be a good person.

But you didn’t think now was the time to feel bad about yourself – especially since there wasn’t anything you should have felt bad about in the first place – and you eyed Jungkook carefully before finally daring to ask, “did they ever say they were disappointed in you?”

“They don’t have to say it, it’s plain and obvi—”

“No, but maybe that’s just you assuming things,” you interrupted. Your mind conjured up a thousand scenarios of how this conversation could have gone wrong, but your mouth kept moving, “you have that right. I mean, they have been disappointed in you plenty of times before. But maybe this time they weren’t. Maybe they were just scared for you.”

Jungkook looked at you and he wanted to believe that you were basing your speculations on some legitimate evidence that he’d missed, instead of just hoping that this was true. But he’s known his parents long enough to recognize their defeat.

“Why would they be scared?” he questioned rhetorically. “I know how to throw a punch.”

“Well, maybe that’s why,” you said.

“No, that’s not it,” he said firmly. “They don’t get scared when I get into fights. They get frustrated, like how did I dare to do that? And then do that again. And again. Maybe they also get confused: I am their son and yet they can’t explain why I am this way.”

He said it like he was diseased – like lacking proper conflict-resolution skills and being impulsive was an illness he’d inherited from someone and, since no one else in his family was sick, that had to mean he didn’t belong there. He belonged somewhere else.

And every time he did something that did not fit into the frame of acceptable behavior in his family’s eyes, it just reminded them that he was the black sheep in a herd of white ones. How did he get here?

“It’s not just you,” you said, your heart hurting. No matter if his parents were really disappointed in him or if they were just worried for him, no child should ever feel like he didn’t belong at home. “Kids from close, loving families rarely grow up to be impulsive or, well, aggressive.”

He clenched his jaw after you said this and that was when you knew that, despite feeling shunned for not being the son his parents had wanted, Jungkook was still their son. They were still his parents.

“I was always like this,” he declared. “From the day I was born. You know that. The relationship with my family hardly changed anything.”

You wondered if he was aware he was defending his family – the family that constantly hurt him with their expectations – by shifting all blame to himself.

“They could have worked as a preventative measu—”

“How, exactly? Remember the time I gave three kids from my pre-school class bloody noses?” he said to prove his point. “Because one of them mocked my drawing of a giraffe and the other two laughed.”

“I-I remember—” you struggled to find a word, “that. It’s not an acceptable way to solve conflict. If they’d taught you that—”

“Acceptability is subjective,” he snapped.

“Uh, sure,” you said and then stopped to wonder if you had the right to draw these conclusions about him.

You thought that, if only Jungkook had gotten more love from the people who were most responsible to love him, he may have grown up to be different – but saying that out loud would have made you sound far too condescending and it would have made a normal person feel uneasy.

Someone who was as arrogant as Jungkook was bound to get riled up – he was already defensive enough as it was – and, maybe, rightfully so. He wasn’t telling you about his family to have you psychoanalyze him. He was just talking to you.

“I-I guess there are other factors that determine how a person chooses to react to something,” you said, threading more carefully now. “For example, you let your testosterone make your decisions for you.”

The sudden transition to biology confused him as he turned to look at you with furrowed eyebrows. “My testosterone?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s obviously your uncontrollable hormones that get you in these situations in the first place. You’re like a twelve-year-old boy, unsure what to do with himself, so you just go with whatever your instincts tell you.”

“Fourteen-year-old boy,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I was fourteen when we stopped being friends.”

That only confused your further. “What does that have to do with—”

“Maybe you were the preventative measure that my family was supposed to be for me,” Jungkook said, the words pouring out as smoothly and elegantly as the floating of your skirt in the windy night. He chuckled humorlessly as he finished, “and then I lost that – the only positive influence in my life.”

You wanted to tell him that he never lost you. That he tried to rid himself of you, he tried to walk away – but he never lost you. No matter how much you wanted to detach yourself from him, to walk away, to move on – he never lost you.

And, more than that, you wanted to ask him why that happened – to demand why he walked away – but allowing him to shift the focus to your relationship would have been selfish. This wasn’t about you-and-him right now. This was about you and him.

Because you were here. You were always here. But Jungkook wasn’t – not always. Often, he fell out of touch with himself completely. And if there was no him, there could never be you-and-him.

“You… you need to be the positive influence in your life,” you said instead, advocating for independence when all you wanted was for him to let you hold his hand so he was steadier on his feet. “You can’t rely on others to get you out of the messes you create all the time.”

“I know,” Jungkook said but he no longer felt like discussing the reasons for his behavior, because every reason eventually led back to you – and when he thought of you, he couldn’t think of anything else. “But I never learned how to take care of myself, did I?”

“No, you never did,” you agreed and then, watching him smile appreciatively – you rarely ever agreed with him – you continued more playfully, “maybe it’s time you started learning, you big baby.”

He laughed and even the wind stopped to listen.

“Maybe,” he said then, the same pathetic hopeful tone that was in your voice before, now evident in his, “I do have you to help me again, don’t I?”

You do, you wanted to say, you’ve always had me. But you only smiled.

“I can’t be the one to handle your conflicts for you,” you said instead. “You have to learn how to do that yourself. How to do that responsibly. I can just… be there for you.”

And, much to the joy of your body that was aching to support him, he smiled and said, “that’s more than enough.”

“Okay,” you swallowed. You felt relieved suddenly – like the tension that surrounded you since you left the party had finally dissipated – and, paradoxically, nervous. Like you didn’t know how to act anymore.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice that, however, as he teased, “support me even when I inevitably fuck up again, though, yeah?”

You raised your eyebrows, countering his lively pout.

“That’s not a very good attitude,” you said. “How do you expect to change if you’re setting yourself up for failure from the get-go?”

He shrugged. “By a miracle?”

“Jungkook.”

“Come on. I have you rooting for me. I won’t let you down,” he assured you and then, carelessly throwing his arm around your shoulders, added, “I am a great actor. I just have to start playing a responsible role.”

“It’s your father you’re supposed to prove your responsibility to, not me,” you reminded him – just like he’d reminded you a few days ago in your dorm room – although your skin was burning from his touch. “But I’m hoping that by pretending to be responsible, you’ll actually learn a thing or two and prove yourself to us both.”

Jungkook looked at you – his face so close and so welcoming – and said, in the most laid-back fashion that was possible for someone who’d just crossed half the campus while analyzing his childhood issues, “you’re very preachy when you’re drunk.”

It felt like you’d left the party years ago as you said, “I don’t feel drunk anymore.”

“Oh, well. That doesn’t surprise me then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he leaned his head against yours and the touch of your temples was electrifying -- like shock therapy that numbed every one of your senses except the ones that consumed his close presence. “I’ve missed your lectures.”

You doubted that but your voice didn’t sound convincing when you spoke – he probably wouldn’t have even heard you if he wasn’t so close, “have you, really?”

“Hmm,” he purred and your pulse nearly flat-lined. “I’ve missed everything about you.”

If you two weren’t walking so close to each other, if he didn’t have his arm around your shoulders, if his head wasn’t pressed against yours – then maybe his words wouldn’t have strummed the strings of your heart so terribly and so delightfully. Maybe you wouldn’t have forgotten all about the seven-year-long silence when you heard the song his words played for you.

But you were walking so close to each other – so close, in fact, that a passerby wouldn’t have been able to tell where your body ended and his began; you shared a silhouette.

And he did have his arm around your shoulders – pulling you closer to him while making sure you were steady on your feet even if his own balance was off.

And his head was pressed against yours – so gently and yet so naturally, it was as if there were magnets inside your skulls and they literally pulled you to one another.

And, thus, when you reached the door of your dorm room, you could not imagine yourself saying goodbye. You couldn’t imagine watching him walk away.

“Are you coming in?” you asked as Jungkook waited a few steps away, unsure how to behave now that the moment-at-the-end-of-the-night had arrived.

“I thought you said you felt like going to sleep,” he said perhaps a little awkwardly.

“I do,” you said and maybe you were still drunk without realizing it but you felt bold enough to add, “but I also feel like spending time with you in a place where... we don’t have to worry about what other people think. Not to mention, your wound needs to be taken a look at.”

“My wound?” his bruised cheekbones had completely escaped his mind. “Oh, that—it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“At least, let me put a band-aid on it,” you asked.

“And cover up my beautiful face?” he scoffed, using his favorite strategy of dealing with problems – deflection. “No.”

You sighed. “It won’t be beautiful if it scars.”

“Are you kidding?” he still didn’t give in, bringing a hand down the side of his own face and clenching his teeth so you wouldn’t see him wince when he touched the wound. “It’ll make me look badass.”

“You’re a baby,” you declared and then ordered, “come inside.”

“Not if you’re going to be pulling your medical equipment out on me—”

Groaning, you cut him off with a reluctant – but irritated – promise, “I won’t. Now, come in.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook checked again but he was already reaching for the door that you kept open for him.

“Yes,” you said.

He still hesitated. “Because you don’t have to—”

His uncertainty did terrible things to your boldness – it seemed to vanish with every moment that he did not enter your room.

“Look, if you’d rather get back to the party,” you said, “and drink some more of Taehyung’s painfully unbearable drinks, then, by all means, go—”

“No,” he cut in sharply – maybe too sharply – and then, just to be sure you understood why he cut you off, he said, “I’d rather be with you.”

“Well, come inside, then,” you said and, because you were nervous, you felt the need to add, “but I can’t promise to be more entertaining than absinthe.”

He snickered, finally walking past your doorway. “Oh, you have a far bigger effect on me than absinthe.”

He stopped to take his shoes off. You stopped to lock the door.

The hallway of your dorm-room was very small for two people but, locked away from the rest of the world, you suddenly felt like you were home. Like there was nothing to be nervous about here. Like you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades.

“Ah,” you started to say because you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades, “so it burns your throat when you get in contact with me and you feel sick every time you look at me?”

“That’s—” Jungkook paused, one sneaker off. He raised his eyes to look at you. “You really hate it that much, huh?”

“It’s a rational feeling,” you said, unbuckling the strap of your own shoes. “Absinthe is not meant to be enjoyable.”

“Well, if we’d stayed longer, you would have seen what my bandmates do with it,” Jungkook said. “It involves a cube of sugar and a whole lot of cursing because their hands shake too much to do anything.”

He hadn’t realized just how hypnotizing it could be to watch someone take off their shoes so, when you finally placed your shoes on the floor, your feet aching from the torture you’d put them through tonight, he was still staring at your legs.

You cleared your throat, somewhat self-conscious now. “I’m, uh—I’m a little intrigued.”

This got him to lift his eyes to your face. “Oh? So… does that mean there’s a little possibility you’ll go to the party with me again next week?”

“Next week,” you repeated, realizing that this was Parental Advisory’s routine: parties every Friday, hangovers every Saturday. You turned around with a soft sigh and headed into the bedroom, plopping down on your bed. “I didn’t sign up for that.”

Jungkook chuckled, sitting down on the bed next to you.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, keeping respectful distance from you – because you weren’t walking across campus anymore, now you were on a bed – but still remaining close enough to hear your faint breathing. “I was just kidding. We can stay here.”

You looked at him. “No.”

“No?” he repeated, his voice breaking in surprise. “Okay, then. We don’t have to do anything togeth—”

“No, I just mean—you like that,” you clarified before his stomach could drop any lower. “You enjoy partying, hanging out with people, drinking, dancing, and all that. I don’t want you to give that up to hang out with me here.”

You were saying you didn’t want to bore him. You were saying you didn’t want him to overstep the boundaries of your fake relationship.

He’d never heard you say something so stupid before and he didn’t realize that it was his own words that got you to feel this uncertain.

“I’m not giving anything up,” he said because, apparently, even the smartest people sometimes needed to have it spelled out for them. “I do enjoy that but I also enjoy spending time with you.”

In your defense, it wasn’t spelling out that you needed. It was reassurance.

“We haven’t done that since we were… well, in middle school,” you pointed out and your last words were an incantation of a silence spell that prevented you from saying anything else for the next few minutes.

This time was no exception, as both of you shared a thoughtful moment, avoiding each other’s eyes, and then Jungkook clapped his palms on his knees, nodding his head in the direction of your laptop on the desk across the room.

The spell was broken. You weren’t going to speak of that day. Not today.

“Well, come on, then,” he said. “We have a lot of catching up to do, it’s been seven years. Show me the movies I’ve missed.”

“Lots of movies came out in seven years,” you replied but got up from the bed to get your computer nevertheless.

“Well,” Jungkook said, dramatically extending his arm to check the non-existent watch on his wrist. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

You sat back down, smiling at his antics, and pulling up your Videos folder. You scanned it briefly, trying to pick one movie that would leave a long-lasting impression on him – even though you couldn’t explain why you wanted to impress him.

“Don’t think about it,” he suggested. “Just choose the first one. We’ll watch them all.”

You scoffed. “There’s not a chance in hell you’ll stay awake through more than one movie.”

“You want to bet?” he countered, knowing your taste in movies too well. “After the movie you’ll choose, I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep for a week.”

You rolled your eyes as you smiled – he’d never grown to like horror movies as much as you did – and teased, “don’t be a baby.”

“I can’t,” he pouted on purpose, hoping for more of your sympathy and not knowing that he already had all of it. “I scare easily.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You just get distracted all the time and everything catches you unprepared.”

“That’s the same thing,” he insisted.

Sighing as you finally settled on the movie, you gave him a look. “Just try not to fall asleep on me, okay?”

“Do you mean that literally or—”

“I mean it in every sense of the word,” you replied. “If you start snoring during my favorite part, I might not be able to forgive you.”

“So strict about snoring,” he said, a mocking grin on his lips.

“I am,” you replied, completely serious. “So, now that we’ve established that—”

“We established that in second grade,” he reminded you, “when you tried to suffocate me with a pillow during our sleepover.”

“I…” you started to say but the memory was too unexpected and overwhelming – and he didn’t remember it correctly. “I tried to get you to stop snoring!”

“By putting a pillow on my face!”

“Nothing else worked!”

“You could have kicked me!”

“I did!” you said. “Several times. My feet bruised.”

He rolled his eyes, adamant to prove your murderous tendencies. “Oh, please.”

You shook your head, the argument so pointless and unnecessary that you chose to opt for a compromise. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen tonight, alright?”

“It won’t,” he assured you, “I stopped snoring after that incident. I guess, you could say I haven’t recovered from that trauma. I’m constantly afraid someone’s going to try to use a pillow on me—”

“I wasn’t trying to do that!” you said with a groan and when he opened his mouth to protest again, you cut in quickly, “drop this or I really will suffocate you with a pillow.”

He closed his mouth again and then nodded, impressed.

“Still very strict about snoring,” he corrected his earlier statement. “I’ll keep my breathing in check.”

You finger lingered on the mouse button, ready to play the movie you’d picked, but your mind lingered on the memory he’d brought back and all the other memories that came with it. It’s already been a long night, full of reminiscing, discussing, and analyzing.

But you couldn’t resist it.

You’d wanted to know for so long – even if there was nothing to know and it was something that just happened as things sometimes did – that even the late hour couldn’t stop you.

You didn’t want closure. Seven years have gone by – you didn’t want it.

You needed it.

“Can I ask you something?” you started, swallowing slowly.

“Of course,” Jungkook said, unsure why your face had clouded all of a sudden.

“It’s been seven years,” you said and the thunderclouds started to make sense. “Why did you talk to me that night at the party?”

The question was so loaded, he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer it without reflecting on his entire life. But right now, after the night he’d had, you managed to catch him off guard and his mind was void of any answer that made sense.

“Because you were there,” he said because that was the simplest way of explaining it.

You needed more. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” he shifted his weight to his side until he was half-laying on your bed, his left shoulder pressed into the corner where your bed met the wall. His body was facing you but his eyes were on your hands, “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a very long time. Actually, since the day I told you we shouldn’t be talking anymore,” he paused here. He never learned how to talk about that without pausing. “Not a clever decision on my part.”

“Mm, no, not really,” you felt the bitterness in your voice as you said this but you didn’t try to justify it – and Jungkook didn’t need you to.

“Yeah,” he only nodded. “So, I don’t know. I saw an opportunity to talk to you again – and I was drunk, and sort of on a post-show high – so I took it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he confirmed but it sounded like only one half of an answer that you needed. Jungkook didn’t know how to explain the other half and he naively hoped he wouldn’t have to. “Timing, right?”

You weren’t sure if that was right. He could tell.

“You deserve a better answer,” he acknowledged, sighing heavily, “but I don’t want to lie and make up stories about how I’d been—I don’t know—bracing myself to talk to you for a long time, how I planned it all out, because that’s not true. I did want to talk to you, I’ve wanted to every day, but I probably never would have. Not if I wouldn’t have seen you right then and there, in front of me.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think I was in any position to seek you out,” he replied, “and, actually, I sort of got the feeling that you weren’t that excited to see me, either. Every time I saw you on campus, I’d blink, and you’d be on the other side of the street, already far away from me.”

Fair enough, you weren’t entirely blameless in this, either, you decided, and then admitted, “yeah. Maybe I was avoiding you a little.”

He chuckled. “I deserve that. I made the decision to… to stop talking to you and I knew I should have stuck with it.”

“Can I ask you something else, then?”

He knew what you were going to ask as he exhaled shakily and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Why did you make that decision?” you asked, unafraid of the potentially childish connotations in your voice. You just needed to know. You’d waited for this long enough. “Why did you decide to stop being friends with me?”

Even though he hadn’t answered you yet, just getting the question out of your system felt so relieving, it was as if Sisyphus had dropped his boulder on your chest seven years ago and now, at long last, you’d rolled it off.

The boulder seemed to roll off onto Jungkook, however, as he tried to open his mouth to speak several times, but always ended up closing it again. He didn’t know where to begin.

“We… we were so different back then,” he finally said. He looked at you then and there was hope in his eyes – he wanted you to understand him without any words. “Remember?”

“From right now?” you asked. You weren’t willing to try to decipher the signals his eyes were sending you. Right now, you needed him to use his words.

“From each other,” he clarified. “You were always so focused on your studies and spent so much time working with the school staff when you were in the student council, you were essentially the de facto headmaster of our school.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Right. And I was… well, you knew me then. I haven’t changed much.”

“The troublemaker,” you said and then, almost automatically, tried to make light of the situation because he looked like he was having a hard time and you didn’t want that. “Good thing there are no more PTA meeting in college, huh?”

Jungkook laughed at this but his laughter lacked humor.

“Yeah,” he said, not sounding wistful in the slightest. He wouldn’t go back to high school even if someone paid him to do it. “There’s still the risk of expulsion even without them. That never goes away in any institution.”

“It’s what brings you to life, though,” you said, your previous discussion returning to your mind. “You love the adrenaline, the danger of doing something that might have long-lasting repercussions. You always have.”

“And you don’t,” he said sadly. “That’s why I felt like—I didn’t want to—I was bad for you.”

Your loud heartbeat momentarily halted your ability to comprehend his words. “Hmm?”

“You probably don’t know this, but,” he hesitated on the very edge of what he knew you needed to hear, “I’d overheard my parents talk about us once, after our middle school graduation.”

There it was again. The last day of your middle school.

Thankfully, this time, the silence spell didn’t linger and Jungkook continued. Actually, this time, the spell didn’t even work on him – now that he’d decided to answer your question – now that he’d found how to answer it – he couldn’t be silenced.

“And the only thing I remember from their conversation,” he said, “is my mom – who’s been on my side for as long as I could remember, standing up for me to my teachers even when they believed I was a lost cause – saying to my dad that she was afraid I was going to be the end of you.”

“What?” you asked, perplexed.

After spending almost every day with Jungkook – and his family, too – for years, you hadn’t even considered that they may have been talking about you when you weren’t there.

“She, um… she saw something between us that we didn’t, I guess,” Jungkook continued as his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of your blanket, his eyes on the shredded fleece. “And she believed I would be the reason why you stopped working so hard. Why you lost your ambitions. She thought I’d turn you into someone entirely different.”

“But that’s—why would she—” all the questions you had tried to pour out of you at once.

“She saw how much we meant to each other and—”

“Yeah, but—” you cut him off and, closing your eyes for a moment to settle on just one of the many things you wished him to explain, you tried, “I mean, why couldn’t she have looked at it from a different perspective? I could have been the good influence that you needed in your life. Y-you said I was.”

“I thought you were. I still think you are. But, um…” Jungkook spoke to the fleece blanket because he couldn’t speak to you, “she… she didn’t seem to think you had it in you to resist me.”

“Resist you?” you repeated, unexpectedly offended. But that only lasted for a second before you felt it necessary to disarm yourself and stop pretending. You were absolutely devoted to Jungkook when you were growing up. “Oh, fuck it,” you said. “She probably had a point.”

Jungkook was prepared to hear your offence. He was not prepared to hear that.

“She had?” he repeated, looking at you for the first time since he started talking.

You swallowed the ball in your throat. “Yeah.”

Shakily, Jungkook concluded, “so, I made the right choice, then.”

“By putting an end to our friendship?” you asked, suddenly aware of how cold your body seemed to be, your hands especially – and painfully so, too. Dancing with the ghosts of your past proved to be difficult. “Was that for my benefit, then?”

It wasn’t the disbelief in your voice that he focused on. It was the anger.

You’d moved on. He thought you moved on – you were still the same in almost every aspect that he remembered, but you were also so different: so mature, so determined, so certain.

And he was partially right – you clearly didn’t hold a very strong grudge. But he also felt ridiculous for assuming that, despite it being so long, you wouldn’t still be angry about this now.

You’d allowed him back into your life and blessed him by not asking him to explain himself for weeks before you finally gathered the courage to do it; it was natural for you to feel angry about something that you’d waited for for so long.

“That’s… well, it was supposed to be,” he explained and then felt the need to defend his decision by saying, “that’s how everyone seemed to see it. I didn’t want you to lose the best parts of yourself because of me. And I don’t doubt that your parents were also relieved when I was no longer such a prominent part of your life.”

You had considered the possibility that Jungkook ended your friendship per the request of his parents. But you had assumed they saw you as a threat to him – even if, in retrospective, that didn’t make a lot of sense; what threat could you have possibly posed to him or the company?

Instead, it was the other way around.

Looking down, you said, “my parents weren’t relieved.”

“They weren’t?” Jungkook repeated because he couldn’t find enough words of his own.

“No,” you confirmed, remembering the not-so-distant times when Jungkook’s name was a forbidden word at your dinner table. “Hardly any parent would feel relieved to see their child cry her eyes out for days.”

Admitting this made you feel vulnerable and it would have made you feel pathetic, too, if Jungkook didn’t immediately wince after you said this – not from pity, but from his own hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said because he had to, and because he was. And then, even though he didn’t have to, he continued, “I didn’t handle that well, either. I broke my leg in a bike accident about three weeks after we last talked.”

You frowned, focusing all of your energy into your confusion so your wet eyelashes wouldn’t release the droplets of tears down your cheeks. “Was that—”

“That’s how I deal with my emotions,” he said with a nod, confirming your guess. “That is, I don’t. I get reckless and I do stupid shit. That’s the last time I ever saw Dad’s beloved Ducati. He sold it.”

“He sold the bike?” you asked. The bike had belonged to Jungkook’s father who was a casual collector of sports cars and motorcycles – much to the joy of his underage son – but Jungkook was never permitted to drive any of them, at least, not until he was “old enough” according to his father’s standard.

“On the same day they ‘scraped my body off the pavement.’ That’s how he put it,” Jungkook said. “I only got to ride it that one time. Clearly, I’m not a natural. But dad couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to get on a bike for the first time without a helmet or any help at all. He wasn’t even looking for reasons why I did it, he didn’t ask me anything. Just sold the bike, locked up the garage, and didn’t talk to me for a week after I returned from the hospital. Actually—t-that was the first major thing that lead to me moving out of their house later on.”

You replayed his words for a long time, thinking and trying to understand.

“Why did you ask me to put this act? To play a couple for your parents?” you asked when you thought you were ready for the final cross on the last T. “If they thought you were a bad influence on me, this—seeing us back together again, could have painted you in the wrong light again.”

He didn’t think so.

“It’s been so long,” he said, “and you’re arguably the best student in your year. You’re determined and driven. And you’d rather kick my ass to the curb than give in to me and what I want. You… you affect me in ways I could never affect you. Control me in ways I could never control you. And I mean that in a good way. You are a good influence on me. And my parents can see that now.”

Obviously, he wasn’t entirely aware of how much control he still had over you, but because now you knew that this was precisely the reason why you’d stopped being friends seven years ago, you chose not to bring it up.

“I… I don’t control you,” you said.

“You do,” he disagreed. “Maybe not intentionally—actually, probably not; I’d like to think that you didn’t want me to suffer—but you do. You want to stay inside of your room, watching movies – and I want that, too. You want me to come to class and I want that, too. You want me to change and I’m changing.”

“I just—I don’t want you to kill yourself with your recklessness. But I don’t want you to be different,” you said, looking down. “I’d... always liked you the way you were.”

Your broken-up confession couldn’t have warmed his heart more. And yet, he had to point out, “I was unbearable.”

You gave him a look that wasn’t threatening at all because your eyes were still glossy from the tears.

“I know,” you said.

He smiled in spite of himself. “And you still liked me that way?”

You nodded, not saying anything else because he already knew the answer to that—and every other—question.

“I’m sorry for these seven years,” Jungkook said then and maybe that wasn’t enough to cure the wounds the years had left but it was a start. “You had a future ahead of you and I didn’t. My parents could see that but there was little they could do. I had to understand and deal with the fact that I was going to fall off the rails sooner or later myself. I was fourteen and I had to understand that. And I did. I knew that. And I also knew I didn’t want to drag you down with me. You didn’t deserve that.”

You fell into silence again.

You knew you wouldn’t have walked away from him then – anything he’d have asked, you would have given him. Any cliff he would have jumped off of – you would have followed.

To realize that Jungkook didn’t let you go because he didn’t want to be your friend anymore, or because he got tired of you, or because he didn’t care about you anymore -- or because of any other reason you tried to find over the years -- but rather, he let you go because he knew you wouldn’t, was groundbreaking.

It didn’t fix the hurt, it didn’t make it better, and, perhaps, nothing would – the years have gone by and you couldn’t get them back – but now you knew that the end of your friendship was a sacrifice of sorts.

You were intertwined together – it was you-and-him, always you-and-him – and you were comfortable living this way, both of you were. But that wasn’t right. It wasn’t healthy.

Except, you weren’t the one who had her eyes opened seven years ago – if there was no you and him, there could never be you-and-him – and so Jungkook ended up having to break out of your comfort zone, to leave your sanctuary, and walk in a different direction. On a different road.

All so you could have a road for yourself.

“I’m…” you tried to say but the tears that had welled up in your eyes were now cascading down your face and Jungkook – alert as soon as he saw that you were crying – sat up straight. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. Thank you for telling me.”

“I… you’re welcome,” he said, wanting to reach out and wipe the tears away but watching you do it yourself. “Although, I wish I didn’t have to tell you anything. Not just because I don’t want you to think about my mom differently after this—she always wanted what’s best for you, we both did—but also because I… I wish there had been a different way. A way where we could have kept in touch and still remained individuals.”

“Maybe there was no such way at the time,” you said. “We’d been close from the day we were born. Maybe we needed to spend some time apart to learn how to be ourselves.”

“Maybe,” he agreed but he didn’t think that was fair. “We were too close.”

“We were,” you said and couldn’t help sniffling; the tears have started to block your breathing. “Sorry, I just—it didn’t have to be seven years. I-I mean, it doesn’t take that long for people to mature.”

“No. It didn’t have to be,” Jungkook said but the fact that he agreed with you didn’t bring you much joy because his words were sad. “I have no excuse for that.”

Knowing that you could have been setting yourself up for more heartache, you still dared to ask, “would you have talked to me sooner if I hadn’t been avoiding you?”

“Probably,” he said, afraid to look at you in case he’d lose control of himself at the sight of your tears. “I-I couldn’t resist myself. But would you have replied to me?”

You looked down, making it easier for another tear to trail down your cheek. “I did that night at the party.”

Jungkook bit his lip. “Would I have seen you again if I hadn’t crashed my car?”

You inhaled sharply, not liking that this was what it came to. “No. Probably not.”

“It didn’t have to be seven years,” he said again, nodding thoughtfully, “but I think that we… started to talk again right when we had to. When it was time.”

You didn’t like that, either. “That can’t be true.”

“We’ll never know what’s true,” he said, leaning in closer to you but still not daring to reach out and touch you. “But it’s been long enough.”

“It has been,” you said, nodding and, feeling more tears coming. You sniffled, throwing your head back to fight the crying, and excused your emotions again, “it’s been a long day. It’s been seven long years.”

It’s been a long life; but you didn’t think of your years as his best friend to be draining. If anything, these were the years that made you feel alive: both of your families so close, it was like you grew up with two sets of parents, and with a soulmate for a best friend.

It’s what happened next that was a task.

Life had been pouring out in every shade of color around you when you knew him, when you laughed with him. And when you didn’t, you had to physically strain yourself to see the world in anything other than black-and-white.

You’d worked so hard to get used to the darkness of your life that the explosion of the color spectrum when you finally got to laugh with him again was almost painful. You’d grown so accustomed to monochrome that seeing colors all over again felt scary. Dangerous. Potentially hurtful.

But now you knew he never meant to take the colors out of your life. By doing so, he ended up having to sacrifice his own brightness. His own light.

Maybe what hurt the most right now wasn’t the memory of the years that you’d spent without talking, but rather the pointlessness of it all because here you were again: together. Affecting each other in ways ordinary people should not have been allowed to affect one another.

“Come here,” Jungkook finally asked, extending his arms, but you shook your head, not wanting to admit to how big the hurricane cloud in your chest was. “Come here, please.”

The insistence of his tone wasn’t what got you to move closer in the end – it was the pain in his eyes.

This had hurt him, too. He was the one who had to find a different way so he wouldn’t have to end your friendship. He was the one who eventually failed and had to say goodbye – stone you so you’d run away. Wound you, so you wouldn’t come back.

It would have hurt your pride if you didn’t love him so much.

And he couldn’t find it in himself to say how much he wanted you to come back after he told you to leave; how much he agonized over your phone number – which he’d deleted off his phone only to realize that he knew it by heart – and how much he wished he was different—better—so he wouldn’t have to stay away from you. He couldn’t find the words.

So, he just held you – like it was the first and the last time he was ever going to hold you. And he hoped that this would be enough for you to know that he knew you loved him. He’d always known.

And he loved you, too.

“I’ve missed you. Everything about you,” he whispered, clutching your body tightly against his own and sinking his face into your hair. “So much.”

Your hair grew wet – you could feel the pain leave his heart in tears – and, even though you’d seen him cry before, you’d never cried with him. But it felt inevitable now – like everything you’d done together in the past few weeks was only the prologue and tonight you were turning the page, you were starting the first chapter of the rest of your lives.

It hurt because of how long the prologue was. It hurt because of the seven empty pages.

But it felt so relieving to reach the end. So freeing.

You wrapped your arms around him tighter because you were ready to work on letting go of the pain, and you were ready to move on, and you were so happy to have him with you. You didn’t know what awaited you after tonight but that scared you much less than all that you’d already survived.

“If history repeats itself,” you said, your nose stuffed from the crying, “we’ll find a different way, right?”

Jungkook considered pulling away when you said this but that didn’t seem right. Not holding you when he could, didn’t seem right.

“We will,” he said into your hair. “I’m not leaving again.”

And he meant it – in the long run, at least. Because this night was coming to an end.

Your laptop – and the movie you didn’t get to watch – was long abandoned as you and Jungkook sat on your bed, your legs crossed and hearts open, and you talked.

You talked and the seven empty pages filled. The filled with words, written in different fonts with different colors, but they filled.

You talked and your bodies grew tired even if your minds didn’t, so you lied down on your backs next to each other, the white concrete ceiling painting itself in the colors of all that you’d missed about each other.

You talked and the hours went by – minute by minute, morning was creeping up on you.

“It’s late,” Jungkook said when your room got so dark, he couldn’t make out which bits of skin, glistening in the pale light from the street lamps outside, were yours and which were his. But even so, he remained on his back next to you. “I should probably go home. Maybe we can watch a movie tomorrow? Or next week?”

“I… I don’t have plans tomorrow,” you said and you wanted this night to keep going so badly, that if you’d been Faust, your soul would have gone straight to hell: beautiful moment, do not pass away! “Will the party be over now?”

“No, probably not yet,” Jungkook replied, “won’t be the first time I’ll be woken up by someone drunkenly smashing a bottle or something,” he said and then, when you bit your lip, clearly concerned, he added, “it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Then, because you were not Faust and the devil had not chained your soul to the pits of hell just yet, you found a way to stop the moment as you said, “you could stay here.”

“Hmm?” Jungkook turned his head to look at you, unsure if he understood your offer. “H-how do you mean?”

“Just… stay here,” you said with a shrug as if it was that simple. Your eyes remained on the ceiling. “The RA didn’t see you come in with me. And, usually, no one smashes anything in the middle of the night here.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again. He didn’t want to go – but just like he did before coming inside earlier tonight, he didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for; God knew you’d already done so much for him.

But you assured him, “yeah. You didn’t want me walking home alone, well, maybe I don’t want you stumbling around at 3 AM, either. You’d already had one fight today.”

“It’s, uh,” he checked his phone, “four-thirty.”

You gave him a look.

“But your concern is understandable,” he added quickly, catching on, “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable with you here.”

“Okay,” he said, your gazes so intensely focused on each other, both of you were almost paralyzed as you lied side by side.

“Yeah?” you asked. “So, you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay if you let me.”

You turned to your side, facing him. Your eyes never left his, just like his did not stray from yours. You even seemed to blink in unison.

“Stay,” you said. “I’m letting you.”

He turned to his side as well and, as his eyes fell to your lips – he could have touched them with his own if he dared to move a little bit closer – you knew you would have allowed him do a lot more than just stay here for a night.

But you’ve come a long way tonight, both literally – when you walked back here from the party – and figuratively – when you scratched the wounds until they bled because there was no other way for them to heal properly – and maybe that was enough for one night.

“Goodnight,” Jungkook whispered because you’d walked so much tonight but your road hadn’t ended yet. He didn’t dare to touch you.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back because just having him here with you after so long felt enough right now. You didn’t have to to touch him.

keep reading | masterlist

#bts reactions #bts fanfiction #bts college au #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #bts angst #college au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #friends to lovers au #bts f2l #fanfiction #bts au #angst

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hikarimiyanaga · 3 years

Text

I'll Always Be Yours (Part 4)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Fourth Song : Kung ‘Di Rin Lang Ikaw (If it’s not you)

You finally try to move on… but you’ve always had a stubborn heart.

A/N : Had to get help because google translate is making my brain hurt.

Warning : Angst Still

That doesn't get removed until the last three songs. So enjoy.

Dialogues that are in parenthesis are spoken in Japanese in this.

If you were not the reason

Will it force my heart not to be hurt?

If it’s not you then it won’t matter

I will be forced to hope for the two of us

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try to love other girls before… just. When you had the best, others can’t really compare. Even if you have touched others, you still remember her the most. Even if others have kissed you, it was still her lips that you crave the most. Even if others flirt with you, it was still her laughter that you want.

Loving has never been easy for you… Not when someone has stolen your heart and has never given it back.

“Y/N?” Silvia calls out and you hum. The woman besides you stir and you quickly wear your clothes. You sigh and open your hotel room door.

“Had a late night snack?” You groan as you glare at her.

“Where’s Miyuki?” “Right here!” Miyuki greets and she waves a box of donuts at your face. You quickly snatches it and takes one for yourself. You let them inside as the woman from the night before opens the bedroom door.

“Oh. You have visitors.”

“Yeah.” The woman, still naked, goes to you and gets a donut without a care. She goes back inside your bedroom and presumably dresses herself.

“Jesus. What the fuck?” You see Silvia has turned around while Miyuki just gets a donut from the box.

“Seriously? Are you a virgin?”

“Still! GOD!”

“She’s a gentlewoman.” Miyuki answers and you nod.

“Yeah. I got that… have you done it?”

“DAMN IT! Don’t answer, Miyuki! I swear!”

“Oh! Sp-“ Silvia screeches and you laugh at her.

You were listening to music as Silvia and Miyuki flirt in the other room inside the Ryokan that you were in. You decided to travel around Japan while… trying to get over Natasha. Your phone pings. Another video of her. You decide to ignore it this time and look out of the window. You hum along with the music.

“Hey, boss?” After what seemed like hours, Silvia finally checks in on you.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You going to go in the baths, boss?” Miyuki asks and you shake your head.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay. Call us if you need us.” You nod and they close the door to your room.

You’ve been in Japan for a week now. And was it breathtaking. You wonder why your mother never brought you here before… oh.

Natalia hums as you kiss the top of her head.

“What’s that?” You ask as you sit besides her.

“Japan.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’ where my next target is.”

“Oh. Damn.” Natalia hums and she snuggles into you more. “I wanna go there with you.”

“For real?” You hum.

“Yeah. I want to travel the world with you. No mission, no target. Just us.”

“Is that a promise?” You smirk and nod.

“Of course, for our forever.”

You run a hand through your hair and sigh… that’s why.

“She’s in Japan right now.” Natasha and Clint groans at that.

“Damn it.”

“Oh. Her paintings look beautiful.” Natasha’s ears perk up at that.

“Paintings?”

“Yeah. Look. The highest price ever of one of her paintings is 10 million dollars… she donates most of them to charities.”

“Oh. Wow.” Natasha smiles at your paintings and her heart stops at a particular portrait… it was her.

“Nat.” Clint calls out and Natasha looks at him. “You’re crying.” Natasha quickly wipes her tears away as Tony zooms on the portrait.

“Is this you?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know her?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting… I’ll have to go to one of her exhibitions then.”

It's cold and I can't move

My difficult heart wants is all you

You were at a club with Silvia and Miyuki, and the two were clearly grinding to each other. You were cold already but didn’t want to ruin their fun so you stayed despite your freezing ass.

(“Hi?”) A woman asks as she sits besides you.

(“Oh. Hello.”) You reply in Japanese which made her smirk.

(“So you know Japanese. I thought you were a foreigner.”)

(“I am. I just love languages… and learned some of them.”)

“Baby, shouldn’t you be resting when you’re with me?” Natalia bites her finger and hums. “Nat. Come on.”

“But I need to learn this!” She huffs as she plops onto you. You grunt as she settles on your lap.

“Don’t worry.” You pick up the book and smile at her. “I’ll help you.”

You learned together with her.

(“Oh. So you’re smart too.”)

(“You could say that.”) You take a sip of your drink and you check the woman out. She was gorgeous and sexy… but somehow you’re mind can only think of Nat tonight. (“And my friends are so drunk.”) You stand and pay your tab. (“Maybe I’ll see you around, gorgeous.”) She giggles and nods at you. You go to Silvia and Miyuki who are just straight making out in the dancefloor. You break their kiss and drag them to the Ryokan you were staying in.

If it’s not us at the end

Restrain myself not to fall in love again

If it’s not us at the end

Will I stop my heart to love you?

You hum as Silvia and Miyuki groan. The three of you are eating breakfast at the Ryokan. And while you were calmly eating yours, they were both in pain.

“This is what happens, when you two are jealous and are drinking.”

“What?”

“Silvia is jealous of that man that you called your best friend.”

“Oh. Shinichiro?”

“So many syllables.” You mumble as you drink down your green tea. Miyuki is teasing Silvia when you leave them. Your phone pings and it was an e-mail this time… from Stark Industries? No… from Tony Stark himself.

Jesus. A promise of at least a million if you reserve a spot for your next exhibition. You replied.

“I’m in.” Tony smirks at Natasha and tosses his phone to the table.

“What?”

“Your girlfriend? The Painter? I got her to reserve me a spot for her next art exhibition.” Natasha smiles and hugs Tony.

“Thanks, Tony.” He nods at her and gets his breakfast.

“Hey, boss?” You hum and look at Silvia. “A woman is trying to get past Miyuki and insists that you know her.” You turn and see the gorgeous woman from the bar.

“I know her. Let her through your girlfriend.”

“You sure?” You nod in confirmation and Silvia leaves to let Miyuki let the woman go through.

(“Your bodyguards are overprotective of you.”) You smirk.

(“That’s what I pay them for.”) She laughs then sits beside you.

(“I haven’t introduced myself yet.”) You hum and look at her. (“The name’s Yukino, I’m a curator.”) You raise your eyebrows at her. (“And you’re master Y/N Y/LN.”) You chuckle.

(“So you have any motives in talking with me?”)

(“Yes?”) You hum. (“A date, if I can.”) You laugh and agree.

It’s been a week since you’ve been casually seeing Yukino. She wasn’t just gorgeous and sexy. She was also kind, smart and a bad-ass… she kinda remind-

You take a sharp breath to stop your mind from going back to her… but you can’t help it. Specially when you think of how Yukino laughs. It sounds so good but. You run a hand through your hair.

“GODDAMN IT!” You shout in frustration and you rip away the sketch that has her face on it. You cry and break down. You have to break up with Yukino. She was amazing… which is why you can’t promise her a relationship. Not when Natasha clearly still has your heart.

You were eating ice cream while binge watching true crime documentaries… they were morbid for other people but you always loved them. Specially when you watched them with her. You had to see a teary-eyed Yukino while you told her that someone else still had your heart. Your stubborn heart would have loved her. If only you had it then you would’ve fall for her.

“Fuck you, Nat.” You mumble, bitter on missing out on a relationship that would’ve been amazing.

If you were not the reason

Will you choose to avoid to not get hurt?

If not you then who else?

The tears in the morning for the two of us

Releasing because I’m unable to move

Do you stop your heart that is shouting another?

You’ve gathered all of your sketchpads that was full of her drawings… and damn was it a lot.

“Damn, boss.” Silvia whistles when the two steps into your room.

“What are you planning to do with all of them?”

“I don’t know either.” You groan and lay on the floor.

“Want us to burn them?” Miyuki punches Silvia’s shoulder who winces.

“No.” You sigh as you sit up. “Just. I need time to myself.” They nod and leave you alone. You cry as you mourn your heart. The what-ifs. Every relationship that could’ve been happy. And you mourn your future. Because you know… you could never truly get over her.

You release all of them as you think about how easy it was for her to kiss Steve. How good they looked together. How being heroes together must’ve cemented their relationship.

You break down as you sob your heart out.

I’m lost and the view is distant

Preventing my heart that is forcing you

You stare out at the view… it was beautiful but you somehow can’t appreciate it enough to draw it.

“Boss, lunch.”

“Wha- Oh.” You get the food and thank Miyuki. They were both worried for you. You’ve been staring but were not moving your pencil.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” You sigh and shake your head at her. “Do you still blame yourself for Yukino?” You chuckle.

“No. I don’t blame me.” You smile weakly at her. “I blame Natasha.”

“Natasha?”

“Yeah. Romanoff.”

“The Black Widow?” You nod in confirmation and Miyuki tilts her head at you. You smile.

“She used to be mine.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t get over her?”

“I don’t think I ever will.” You eat your lunch.

#Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader #Marvel #Marvel Fanfic #Black Widow x Reader #Black Widow x you #Natasha x you

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xiaodejunletsact · 4 years

Text

i still love you | zhong chenle

word count: 17, 367

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

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

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

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

🏀

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

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

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

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

Today is not one of those days.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch, Donghyuck .”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. He actually sees you.

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

🏀

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

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

But it wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m- im good.” You stutter.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

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

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

“Be honest with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘No’ is not a word in your dictionary.

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

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

🏀

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah!” You say, “Like Curry!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I- I don’t-“ you begin.

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

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

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

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

“As if.”

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

“It’s enough with you.”

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

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

You’re damn right. It’s you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

🏀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🏀

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

“Woah!” He acts, “Are you serious?”

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

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

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

Chenle refrains from gasping, “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Right now?” He nods firmly.

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

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

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

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

“Chenle, maybe we should pull over.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to talk about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chenle chuckled sadly before commenting, “Ouch.”

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

“You really mean that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

22 [9:15am]: hey

22 [9:15am]: I hope you’re good :)

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

22 [9:16am]: if you want

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

22 [9:20am]: please come.

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

🏀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🏀

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s-“

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

“Oh.” Is your reply.

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

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

“Is this your room?”

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

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

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

“I have the same ones on mine.”

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

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

The silence is comfortable this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did he want to protect you forever?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘The truth’ Chenle thinks. ‘Okay.’

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

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

“I like you.” He repeats. “So much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🏀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chenle…” you say.

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

You don’t say no.

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

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

You were wrong.

🏀

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

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

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

“Y/N-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, please-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chenle nods, “Okay, then let’s go.”

“Not with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if he ruined everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is this about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🏀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to know.

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

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

“Y/N,

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

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

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

The past tense makes your chest tighten.

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

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

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

Please come. - Zhong Chenle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The game goes on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for it to be real.

🏀

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that it?” He asks, jokingly.

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

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

Chenle’s face is hopeful, happy and lovestruck. He whispers: “You love me?”

You can only nod, overwhelmed. Chenle smiles wide, you can almost see his molars and his eyes disappear. “Say it.” He says, in a wondrous tone.

“I love you, Zhong Chenle.”

“Oh my god, yes!”

And he’s kissing you, arms wrapping around you and pressing your body against his, his finger grip at the jersey on your body and he moves his lips against yours. Every memory that you have ever shared, every kiss, every touch, and every laughing fit come to your mind. It’s all you can think about as you think about this boy. You don’t think about the bad part, because that doesn’t matter anymore now that Chenle is yours and you are never letting go.

4 months later; Graduation

“Chenle! Come on!” Jisung yells as he sees the boys floppy newly dyed orange hair amongst the crowd of people.

You were all posed for a picture, blue cap and gowns adorning your bodies and your parents huddle you together for a picture. “I’m coming!”

Your boyfriend appears from the crowd with his cap in his hand along with a giant bouquet of flowers. He walks directly to you, extending it with a smile. “For you.”

Your friends start squealing, playful hitting you and Chenle and your parents smirk at each other at the portrayal of young love before them. You cover your face with your hands to hide your blush. Chenle laughs and hugs you to his side.

“Y/N! Chenle! Pose for the picture!”

The two of you run to where your other friends are posing, haphazardly getting into the frame and posing crazily.

The air is full of laughter and youth as the sun begins to set on your time in high school. For a moment, you’re too busy basking in the presence of the relationships you have developed while in there that you forget you won’t be seeing these people every day like you had been for so many years. Or that your lives might take completely different courses and things won’t be the same after this. Instead you allow yourself to enjoy this moment.

🏀

You do think about it when you are on your way home though, in the passenger’s seat of Chenle’s car. His hand holds yours over the gear and he smiles to himself while humming along to the songs on the radio, unaware of the internal conflict going on in your head.

It wasn’t until he parks outside your house that he realizes that something is wrong.

“What is going to happen to us now?” Is your reply to his questioning. Chenle’s eyebrows furrow.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean-“ you collect your thoughts, “high school is over, and we’re going to go to college and we will be so busy and what if-“

“Whatever you think will happen, won’t happen.”

You look at him, offended that he could dismiss your worries so easily. “You don’t un-“

“I do understand. You’re worried that now that we won’t see each other every day that we’re going to drift apart, right? And that we won’t be together, am I right?”

You nod silently.

“Y/N, how many times am I going to tell you that I’m crazy in love with you? I won’t let you slip out of my hands, baby. Not again.” Chenle says firmly, sincerely. His eyes widen so you can see right through him and know he is telling the truth.

His pale hands come up to cup the sides of your face, making you face him. Your tear filled eyes meet his own. He brushes away your tear that rolls down your cheek. “I’m sorry, I was just overthinking.” You say.

“Don’t be sorry.” Chenle shakes his head, leaning forward to kiss your cheek lovingly, letting it linger for a few seconds before pulling back. Smiling upon seeing your smiling face.

It happens in a flash, now that the moment was right. Chenle gasps, starling you. “What?! What’s wrong?!”

“I love this song!” And he’s turning it up all the way on the car radio, rolling down the windows and stepping out. “Come on, Y/N!”

You don’t let him see the pure happiness on your face that you wanted to mask with annoyance. Chenle dances on the sidewalk crazily and you laugh in the passenger’s seat. You decide it was best to not let your boyfriend embarrass himself alone, wiping the excess of your tears and step out of the car. “M’lady has arrived to the dance party!” He exclaims.

And as you start dancing wildly together, the sun begins to set causing a golden hue to fall over your features. Anyone watching the scene could either think that you’re crazy or they will see what is really there: split aparts that have finally found one another.

Chenle thinks so too, he stops dancing for a bit to catch his breath and just watches you. He remembers the pain it took to make you his, how much you both cried and the beginning of the relationship was far from ideal. But there is no doubt in his mind that there are not enough glow in the dark ceiling stars in this world that will amount to the love he harbors for you in his chest. He was so happy that he had met his split apart, he couldn’t thank the universe enough.

This when he reaches forward and spins you around to face him. His chest against your own, you feel the rumble of his words from his chest when he says: “I’m so glad I found you.” And then he is kissing you, and the ground seems to melt away from your feet. You’re floating hundreds of feet in air and forget to take a view of your neighborhood from up here because Chenle is all you can think about. Because he makes you feel this way. You whisper in between kisses, he smiles knowingly, he feels it too.

“We.

Are.

Off.

Our.

Feet.”

1K notes · View notes

jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 3 years

Text

Sun and Fun (S2, E12)

I can’t believe FOX has cancelled this absolute masterpiece of a show. I’m devastated. I’d like to think we’ll get picked up by another network for season 3 but I’m a pessimist and I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’ll be hanging around the fandom either way though.

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:20 - Malcolm losing it in Martin’s cell? *chef’s kiss*. 1) excellent performance by Tom. 2) This is the Malcolm mental health content I subscribed for. This is Malcolm feeling overwhelmed, helpless, worthless, and frustrated all at the same time. This. Is. Wonderful. And. Realistic. This is what overwhelming anxiety (especially if you have an anxiety disorder) can feel like. It builds and builds until all of a sudden you’re consumed with all this nervous energy and frustration and it all turns to rage in an instant. But you’re not angry at other people. You don’t want to hurt anyone. That rage is just self hatred because you hate that you feel this broken and your stupid brain won’t function normally.

0:33 - annnnd then when the excess nervous energy is spent but that feeling of self-hatred, despair, and fear still remains - you’re physically exhausted and 7/10. times you cry. Again, crying because of how stupid you feel for your little rage outburst, for how stupid you feel for feeling this terrible all the time. Malcolm is depicting a severe anxiety episode perfectly (in my experience) and THIS is why FOX is moronic for cancelling the show. The gorgeous and accurate depictions of mental health in Prodigal Son is unprecedented, truthful, and heartbreaking. It’s like nothing else on television.

0:50 - This kind of hurts. Look at how cautiously Dani enters the room. Almost as if Malcolm is a wild animal she doesn’t want to scare. It makes sense given the state of the room she just entered and how completely openly and uncharacteristically vulnerable Malcolm is. I will say this though, despite how cautious she is, it’s obvious that she cares about Malcolm more than whatever happened before she walked into the room.

1:03 - “So all eyes are on his head case son right?” This line is a direct quote from Malcolm’s anxiety disorder and depression. This is how you feel about yourself when in the middle of an anxiety episode when you’re also depressed. BUT OUR GIRL DANI!!! <3 This girl looks confused and concerned to hear Malcolm diss himself like that. The fact that she tries to comfort him when he’s in this state, makes her an absolutely A++ friend.

1:11 - “No one cares about that.” “I CARE. I can’t live like this.” This scene resonates with me so so so much. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been 100% aware of how irrational my anxieties are and simultaneously 100% unable to do a damn thing about it because I’m too scared of who I’d be without the fear. Because I’ve defined myself by my anxieties for so long that it’s become the only definable element of my personality visible to me. I’m getting that vibe from Malcolm. I’m sure that’s exactly how he’s feeling right now.

1:30 - “That’s not what scares you. What scares you is living the rest of your life without your father in it.” Dani knows and I felt personally called out. THIS EMOTIONAL WHUMP IS GIVING ME LIFE. <3

1:39 - Look at our floppy haired, devastated boy. :( <3 I’m genuinely shook that he didn’t have a full mental breakdown this episode (but it’s coming....it’s inevitable at this point :) ). ALSO the look of absolute love and concern Dani is shooting towards Malcolm? Absolutely perfect. <3

1:51 - I genuinely find it so interesting that Malcolm keeps referring to “The Surgeon” as “Martin”. If you read my thoughts on 2x11 you know I think it’s because Malcolm has separated ‘Martin Whitly’ into three separate people in his head. “The Surgeon” = the serial killer who traumatized him and ruined his childhood. “Dad/Father” = the man who loved and cared for baby!Malcolm. But “Martin” = unknown. Malcolm doesn’t know who Martin is yet and it scares him.

1:58 - “For once in your life slow down and acknowledge what this is doing to you.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love this line. So. So. SO. MUCH. <3 <3 This is the kind of comfort Malcolm needs. SOMEONE needs to tell him that he’s breaking, it’s not his fault, and he doesn’t deserve to suffer for Martin.

2:07 - annnnnnd Malcolm has gone full crazy-person string murder board. He’s right but he’s still acting like a manic crazy person. Like, a real one. Not his usual manic behaviour. This is straight up - this boy needs medication, a nap, therapy, and a doctor. Now.

2:34 - Ugh. This whole cop/Vivian scene made my skin crawl. So gross. So creepy. I hate Capshaw. So much. This woman is manipulative, evil, and so so creepy. The cop was also gross. But I 100% thought she was going to kill the cop because this felt like an opening scene to Criminal Minds.

4:38 - “THEY WERE HAVING SEX.” hhahahahahahaha holy shit. This is both hilarious and really upsetting (not just because Martin/Capshaw is NASTY). Malcolm is manically, yelling about his theories in a room full of people who love him. He sounds crazy. He’s acting crazy and Dani, JT, and Gil are just staring at him with a mixture of disbelief, concern, and sympathy. <3 It’s heartbreaking. Malcolm is an inch away from a mental breakdown. I’m here for it.

4:49 - “TMI bro.” <3

5:05 - Ugh. This breaks my heart. The team doesn’t think Malcolm is crazy. They just know he’s at the end of his rope. The looks they’re exchanging aren’t based in anger, contempt, or a lack of trust. They’re based in concern and I LOVE IT.

5:21 - LOOK AT OUR BABY. He’s breaking. He’s so close. :( Look at how desperate he is to find Martin.

5:35 - “That’s exactly what it means.” “Gil, please. You know how much I need this.” THIS HURTS. Gil isn’t angry here - he’s frustrated and scared for Malcolm. And Malcolm? This boy is toeing the line of a full breakdown in front of 3 of his favourite people - that’s out of character for him. Despite the shaking hand and general mania - Malcolm usually refrains from raising his voice in front of Dani and JT. He tries to stay calm-ish so he doesn’t get labelled as ‘violent’ like his serial killer father.

5:39 - “StOp. I am scared.” Dani knew exactly how to diffuse the situation. Malcolm can be manipulative and dysfunctional but he never wants to scare people (at least, not unless they’re suspects or obstructing justice).

5:46 - “I’m not ordering you this time. I’m begging you.” Papa!Gil’s seen Malcolm like this before. SO WHY IS NO ONE HUGGING MALCOLM?!?! The boy is clearly coming apart at the seams.

5:48 - Malcolm’s reaction to Gil sending him home is gorgeous. He looks sad, betrayed, and resigned. It’s as though he’s convinced himself that the team doesn’t trust him or care about him anymore. He doesn’t walk out angry. He walks out sad and determined. Head held high but eyes full of grief.

5:54 - I’d give anything to have heard the conversation between Dani, JT, and Gil after Malcolm left the room. ANYTHING.

6:02 - “He thinks I’m a liability.” No. Not exactly. He thinks Malcolm is in the throws of a mental health crisis and that he shouldn’t be responsible for catching his serial killer father. Again.

6:15 - “I support Gil’s decision. That does not mean I want your father dead.” #coparenting but also, true. I honestly don’t think Jessica wants Martin dead. I think she wants Ainsley and Malcolm to be happy and free from Martin but not dead. She knows that Malcolm might never recover from Martin’s death with all of his unanswered questions and suppressed childhood trauma. She also knows that Ainsley would always resent being prevented from bonding with her father. I think Jessica still loves Martin - well, the man she thought she married. Jessica doesn’t care for Martin Whitly. But she loves the man he pretended to be and even though she knows he wasn’t real - she doesn’t want him to die. I think she wants him to disappear (maybe get transferred to a prison in a different state?) but she doesn’t want him dead. That would make her no better than the serial killer (in Jessica’s mind anyways).

6:25 - “You have become consumed by this Malcolm.” Check out the side eyed look Ainsley gives Malcolm. She’s jealous. Her brother is on the verge of a mental breakdown but she’s jealous of the attention he’s getting from Jessica. I get it - Jessica hasn’t been the best mom to Ainsley. BUT GIRL, gain some perspective. Don’t you care about your brother?!?! That should trump the jealousy for a few minutes at least.

6:35 - “I love you.” <3 <3 <3 I’m going to cry. This might be my favourite Jessica+Malcolm moment to date. So precious.

6:43 - THIS. “I love you. Both of you. More than I hate him.” This is why Jessica doesn’t want Martin dead.....but she also doesn’t care if he lives. I know that sounds like a contradiction but it’s a real thing and if you’ve never felt that way about someone - I pray you never have to.

7:06 - “Then she’s a victim.” .....I disagree. Capshaw had a (weird and manipulative) consensual relationship with Martin. She has as much of an agenda as Martin (although, Jessica didn’t know that here). Capshaw isn’t a victim. She’s not being compliant with Martin as a form of self-preservation or fear. She’s doing it because she’s a manipulative crazy person who is in love with a convicted serial killer.

7:45 - I’ve never felt this unsettled while watching Prodigal Son. Capshaw showing her true colours is so so so disturbing. This woman is insane (with all the stigma). The dress. The martini (Jessica’s favourite drink?). The fact that she dressed Martin up in a suit. The music. The weirdly elegant wheelchair. The lovey way she’s talking. It all makes my skin crawl.

8:33 - OMG. What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel bad for Martin Whitly?!?!?!

9:55 - JESSICA AND MALCOLM doing a rich person ambush tag-team IS AMAZING. <3

9:57- How sad is this? 23 years and Jessica still can’t walk into a room without people whispering and judging her behind her back. :( This woman keeps her head held high - despite the pain she must be in - she’s a superhero. Change my mind.

10:30 - "Malcolm Whitly? You're.." I have this headcanon that the general public assumes Malcolm is dead. He changed his last name and fell off the grid. People treat Jessica like a social pariah so she wouldn't be able to tell them otherwise. And sure, Ainsley referred to Malcolm in the present tense during her Surgeon interview but how many people actually watched it actually paid attention to that little tidbit after Martin went full blown psychopath on camera? Plus, no one really cares about the Surgeon's son enough to look him up 23 years later. At least, no one who matters.

11:25 - Like mother, like son. You can't change my mind. They have the same manipulation style. It's justice based and determined. Ainsley and Martin's style? Vindictive and self-serving.

11:30 - Oh look. ANOTHER CONTINUITY ERROR. WHO PROOFREADS THESE SCRIPTS?!? I CAN’T KEEP OVERLOOKING THESE. For God’s sake. Send copies of the script to fans who sign NDAs or something. At least we know what happened in previous episodes.

12:33 - "Gross." I'm with Ainsley on this one.

12:45 - "My assistant." "Long suffering". hahahha omg. I love this for two reasons: 1) it's hilarious 2) it's true. Malcolm literally disposed of a body for Ainsley. He's her assistant and he's suffered for it.

13:05 - Yo. This dude is whack. Like this is some serious Stockholm's syndrome going on here. Vivian is his hero?!? .........I can't.

13:55 - Why do the gifts Vivian sends Zeiger look like human bones? Damn this is twisted. This is like some sort of twisted serial killer pseudo-trophy situation?

14:52 - "I don't think Vivian is the victim here. I think our father is." Yikes. This is not going to help Malcolm's mental stability. At all. He's been trying to fully accept that his father is a serial killing monster who was literally never capable of loving him for the past 23 years. BUT NOW our boy has taken the role of 'good son' (prodigal son is you will) and has returned to his 10 year old mentality "I love dad. Dad loves me." and 'dad' is in trouble. Malcolm is trying to save his serial killer father and the emotional and mental hoops he's jumping through are terrifying, complex, and hauntingly realistic. <3 It's gorgeous.

15:04 - "I'm not used to this type of confinement." I love this line because of how deeply it rings true. Martin isn't used to confinement. Sure, he's been chained to a wall for 23 years but he's been relatively happy about it. He's been able to manipulate Malcolm and the other inmates. He's been given TV time, phone time, consultations, books, music, free food, and a massive private cell (seriously that cell is as big as the bachelor's suite I rent for $900 CAD a month). The man has been living a life of luxury (given his crimes). His only 'punishment'? He's stuck inside his cell and he's not allowed to kill anymore. THIS is Martin truly suffering. I kind of feel bad for him (which I never thought I'd say).

15:20 - Damn. Michael Sheen is incredible. He's genuinely making me feel concerned and scared for Martin.

15:32 - Something tells me a man hurt Capshaw in some way throughout her life. This has to be deeper than the whole "I didn't fit into the 'boys club' of surgery". Her issues with men are aggressive and alarming. This woman is nuts. This woman is why I hesitate to call myself a feminist (I generally think we should drop the titles of feminist/misogynist/racist/homophobe... and just treat people with respect. I think the titles and groups just further divide people.)

15:50 - "You're finally free." Yep. Capshaw is a nutcase. She actually believes that she's committed a perfect crime.

16:09 - This place has virtually no furniture but I’m expected to believe someone is paying the phone bill?!?! Nah.

17:08 - That. Smile. This woman is a devil. Like, I think I hate her as much as I hate Umbridge. But unlike Umbridge, Capshaw is downright terrifying.

17:12 - Was anyone else kind of surprised that Martin called Jessica? I mean, I guess she was a safer choice than the cops but still...

17:20 - As creepy and this whole ‘Martin is a victim’ thing is - it’s kind of nice? Like - I just keep thinking “How does it feel Martin?!?! This is how you made your victims feel. Do you like it?” and then I realize I’m a terrible person.

17:55 - Ainsley’s in on this. I swear, she’s somehow involved with either Capshaw or Martin.

18:18 - Oh look. Martin is shackled to the bed. Just like Malcolm shackles himself to bed so he can sleep every night. .....I keep oscillating between being vindictive toward Martin and feeling bad for him. That’s what makes this show incredible. The ‘villain’ is human and 3 dimensional.

18:44 - Oh God. The psychopath is jealous. This woman is UNSTABLE. How has no one locked her up yet?!?

19:43 - She’s crying. She’s actually crying. Even the rewatch of this scene is painful. I just feel so uncomfortable (which was probably the intent) and I hate both characters. They’re both actively trying to manipulate each other and it’s so creepy. Damn.

20:15 - Holy. Shit. This woman is by far the scariest villain Prodigal Son has given us.

21:17 - ..............I have nothing to say. My brain has short circuited. I can’t get past how horrifying this scene is. She’s a maniac.

21:57 - No one will make eye contact with Malcolm. :( They all think he’s losing it but they’re not scared of him. They’re scared for him.

22:10 - “A trusted member of my team has a theory I run it down.” THANK YOU GIL. SUBTLY TELL MALCOLM THAT YOU TRUST HIM. That’s what he needed to hear. He was doubting that anyone cared. :(

22:45 - “Do you HeAr yourself?!?” Ouch. Gil’s right - Malcolm sounds nuts. Unfortunately, Malcolm’s also right (more or less). Look at how sad Malcolm is - he honestly looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. :( Malcolm thinks Gil doesn’t trust him anymore. Malcolm thinks Gil thinks he’s crazy. It’s heartbreaking. SOMEONE HUG THIS LITTLE CINNAMON ROLL.

22:54 - JT, buddy. Not the time. You’re making this worse. :( Malcolm is two breaths away from crying.

23:40 - “Dani, you up for this? Cause he sure isn’t.” Gil is losing it. Look at him. Gil is watching the boy he considers as his son unravel and Gil can’t do anything about it.

23:45 - “Either way, he’s going there. I’ll keep an eye on him.” I love Dani for this. Brightwell or not - the fact that she’s willing to chase smoke in an attempt to keep Malcolm from having a full mental breakdown makes her a hero.

23:48 - JT, hug Gil! He needs a hug!

24:16 - Martin is screaming while shackled to a bed.....where have I seen this before?

25:39 - “I did this for you because you needed it.”....”Dani, I respect you.” Excuse me while I go sob in the corner. Malcolm just uttered the words “I respect you.” and my heart exploded.

26:11 - “You don’t care. None of you care if my father lives or dies.” No, Malcolm, you’re wrong. They care. They all care so so much. Not about the life of the Martin Whitly though. They care about how Martin Whitly will continue to torment you if he’s caught alive. They care about how badly you’ll grieve if he ends up dying. They care about how this will affect YOU. because they love you.

26:22 - “You would be free.” SAY IT LOUDER DANI! He’d be in enormous pain for a while, but Malcolm would heal.

26:56 - “Let him go, Malcolm.” <3 <3 Malcolm is listening to Dani. He’s opening up about his fears. This is good (for Malcolm’s mental health). I am happy.

27:04 - WOW BABY! That kiss was......passionate? I mean, we all knew they were going to kiss (thanks previews) but I honestly didn’t expect a kiss this long or passionate? They’ve both been clearly denying their feelings for each other for a while though so I guess it makes sense?

27:20 - We all know Dani was going to talk about how they could make a relationship work for them and/or how she loves Malcolm but thinks he should focus on his mental health before they start dating. BUT MALCOLM? That boy thinks he just ruined his friendship with Dani and I’m heartbroken. Look at his sad little face. :(

28:31 - sooooo when exactly did Malcolm’s phone call drop? I feel like Ainsley had more access to the conversation that just what she shares with Dani in a couple of minutes.

29:08 - Look at this sad, scared little boy. He genuinely thinks that saving Martin will earn Martin’s love. I’m heartbroken.

29:22 - THIS. Malcolm is so desperate for Martin’s love that he essentially consented to being kidnapped, tortured, and potentially murdered. :( This is bad.

30:06 - Malcolm took unknown drugs from a crazy person. UGH. The stress of loving this unstable man-child is going to kill me. I’m so worried for him. ALSO WHO THE HELL CHEWS PILLS?!?! That’s disgusting.

30:24 - Dani thinks Malcolm is being a typical guy - terrified of relationships/talking about his feelings. She’s hurt. The Brightwell ship has encountered another storm.

30:35 - Anyone else get major flashbacks to 1x11 when Gil shows up to the townhouse to tell Jessica that Malcolm’s been kidnapped? You know, when he walks past all the reporters?!

30:50 - Ugh. :( Poor Jessica. That call from Capshaw gave her quite the emotional dilemma. As she said earlier, she loves her children more than she hates Martin. Soooo does she tell someone about the call, save Martin, and let Martin continue to torment her children? Or does she let Capshaw kill Martin, compromise her morals, let her children grieve for a while - but ultimately heal? It’s an impossible choice.

31:13 - “I know why you’re anxious Jess.” UGH. Get yourself a man you looks at you the way Gil look at Jessica. So much love. So much concern. If Gil wasn’t fictional and I wasn’t asexual (and 24) I would marry that man.

31:23 - “He has become convinced that his father is a victim in all of this.” Gil is so upset. He’s angry - at Martin for having this much power over Malcolm so many years later. He’s angry that Malcolm is still suffering so much because of his father. He’s upset because Martin is still hurting the people Gil loves 23 years after he was initially arrested.

31:33 - “There’s no good outcome here Jess.” Thank you. Gil is a man with awareness into Malcolm’s psyche. He knows this is going to hurt Malcolm no matter what happens. He’s scared and he’s bracing himself for impact. I love him. I want more people in the world who love people this deeply.

31:50 - “It’s okay to hope for that you know.” THANK YOU GIL. THANK YOU. Someone needed to tell Jessica that she’s not a monster for wanting the reason her children continue to suffer to disappear (even if tha means he dies). It’s not a malicious, evil thought toward Martin. It’s a hope for her children’s wellbeing.

32:04 - “And in my weaker moments, I want him dead too.” <3 I’m imagining Gil praying that Martin is killed by an inmate after he comforts a teenage Malcolm from a nightmare. I’m imagining Gil praying Riker’s finally kills Martin as he watched Malcolm spiral into Martin’s grasp again last year. I’m imagining Gil crying himself to sleep because he’s so damn tired of watching Jessica and Malcolm suffer because of Martin. I love him for it. <3

32:15 - “Maybe things could be different.” .....I’m sorry. Does this mean Gillica is off again?! The flirting and dancing from 2x9 meant nothing?!? It was a hoax?!? I’m furious.

32:35 - “It’s the actions that matter.” Damn. Gil is too good for the nonsense that is the Whitly family. Doesn’t he know that life isn’t always that simple?

32:46 - Annnnnd now Jessica will convince herself that she’s a bad person because she didn’t tell anyone about Capshaw’s call. She will also convince herself that she’s not good enought for Gil. AND I will cry myself to sleep.

32:55 - That hug <3 Sooooo Gillica is still on? I’m hella confused.

33:05 - There it is. Dani is still upset with Malcolm. The Brightwell ship is taking in water my dudes.

33:52 - Wow. He looks pretty in that makeshift hospital bed. Sleeves rolled up. Shirt half unbuttoned. Glazed, disoriented look about him as he wakes from a drugged sleep. <3 I’m in heaven.

34:30 - This is why Malcolm can never let Martin go. There are moments when Martin absolutely convinces Malcolm that he loves him.

34:50 - “Because he also happens to be my father.” THIS. IS. THE. MOST. REALISTIC. PORTRAYAL. OF. ABUSIVE. DADDY. ISSUES. Take from someone who lived through an abusive Dad. You hate him. You know he’s messed up. You don’t like or respect him. But a part of you will always love him. Even though you hate that part of yourself.

35:12 - “I want all of you.” .....I’m terrified. This woman is crazy. Crazier than the Surgeon. Is that possible?

36:05 - “You want him to love you. But he can’t.” Have you said that to yourself Malcolm? You know that logically but you don’t feel that in your heart. ....and the writers don’t know that because we’ve seen that Martin loves Malcolm? Sort of? Unless the writers are playing some sort of weird long con on us.

36:50 - This is whump content I signed up for. This crazy bitch just killed Malcolm. We saw the terror in his eyes. BUT HE LIVES. So. I’m. Here. For. It.

36:58 - Martin’s devotion to Malcolm is so so interesting to me. Martin is a psychopath - he’s not supposed to be capable of love. But he clearly loves Malcolm. How? Why? It makes no sense but I love it?

37:47 - Malcolm’s little wheeze when Vivian starts mitigating the embolism. <3 So cute.

37:53 - “I can do without the mansplaining.” I’m getting PTSD. There are too many real women who are this crazy about feminism and mansplaining (this is coming from a woman). Martin isn’t trying to ‘mansplain’ he’s scared and he’s trying to save his son. That’s not mansplaining. He’s not explaining something because he thinks Vivian doesn’t know it. He’s explaining something in a desperate attempt to remind her of the severity of the situation.

38:16 - HOW THE HELL did Ainsley and Dani know where Martin, Capshaw, and Malcolm were? Either 1) Ainsley is somehow working with Capshaw, or 2) they were able to trace Malcolm’s cell (assuming Capshaw didn’t trash it), or 3) Ainsley knew her mom was lying about that phone call and they had it traced?, or 4) this is a convenient plot thing.

38:34 - This bitch is devious and I hate her.

39:30 - Martin Whitly is the hero of the episode. What alternate reality are we living in?

41:15 - Malcolm struggling for breath. <3 The whumpers are being FED.

41:17 - “Run.” This is 23 years of guilt for turning his own father into the police surfacing.

41:31 - “Where’s my family?” I honestly don’t know how I feel about this line. It bothers me but I can’t figure out why.

41:43 - This ending sequence is a work of ART. Malcolm is in physical and emotional pain. Dani (without backup) trying to save Malcolm from Martin. The epic music. The shot of Dani seeing the blood-filled syringe next to the makeshift hospital bed+restraints. Martin Whitly. Driving. A. Boat. And. Laughing - completely elated - with Malcolm passed out (and looking adorable) in the aft seating. The fact that the ONLY house you can see on the shoreline is the house the just escaped from.

THIS EPISODE WAS EXCITING, STRESSFUL, AND WONDERFUL. I’m excited for the SEASON finale and I pray we get a season 3 from a network other than FOX.

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