It was raining when he saw you for the first time in three years. So hard, that when he passed by you at first he thought he was hallucinating it. Even after so long, he could never forget your face. You tried to brush past him, but he wouldn’t let you.
Blending in was what you did best. Nobody ever spared you a second glance, wearing dark clothes that blended in to the crowd making sure most of your features were covered. You should have known no matter what you do the obsessive hero would have been able to spot you no matter what you did.
“(Y/n)?” It felt so good saying your name after such a long time. He just wished it was under different circumstances.
“Sun Eater? That’s not me,” you tried to leave but a strong hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.
You looked around desperate. It was crowded, but people brushed past you with no problem, too worried about getting out of the rain or believing that one of the top pro heroes was just doing their job.
He pulled you into his arms, catching you off guard as you almost slipped on the wet concrete. His muscular arms wrapped around you, caging you against him as your head was forced to rest against his hard chest, muffled in case you tried to make a scene. You didn’t know if had just been a long time, but he seemed much stronger, more dangerous, than he had before you escaped.
Tamaki felt happy, relieved, so much that he wasn’t even paying attention to the flickers of curiosity that followed you and him. That’s why he always needed you by his side, you made him feel calm, normal. Anxiety never holding him down when you were with him. He’d been at his worse ever sense you left, to the point it almost affected his work. For the first time in three years, it felt like he could breath again.
You felt the gilded cage that you had been trapped in shutting and locking for good. He bent down, inhaling your scent that caused jolts of pleasure to shoot up his spine.
Hot breath hit the shell of your ear as he spoke softly. “You’re coming with me. Please don’t try anything, I’d hate to have to detain you like a villain.”
That was the worst thing about this, he could get away anything, having connections with the top heroes as well as old, but still powerful ones. Even if yo fought him, screamed at the top of his lungs and attacked, you’d only be making things worse for yourself. For better or worse, the world would always be in his favor.
As you walked with him, hand in hand, you kept your head down, pushing down the urge to scream; feeling like a stuffed animal about to burst from the seams after being filled with too much stuffing. He opened the car door and you slowly got in. When he did the same, he didn’t waste anytime to drive off.
His knuckles paled as he gripped onto the steering wheel. The ride was uncomfortably silent, yet neither of you bothered to speak up. Your hand ghosted over the handle, almost tempted to risk it and jump out, but decided against it when you felt his gaze briefly snap to where your hand was. Your hands rested on your lap where he could see them and you inhaled the faint scent of rain and watched the water trickle down the car, knowing it would be a very long time until you were ever able to enjoy it again.
The ride was a lot shorter than you would have liked, pulling up to the large house you’d thought you’d never see again. The inside almost looked the same it always had, like he’d purposefully left everything untouched for your return.
You stepped back as he grabbed the key and locked the multiple locks on the door, before turning to you. There was even more than before, as a matter of fact, everything seemed more advanced. He slipped off his shoes when he entered and you forced yourself to do the same.
“I got a new security system,” he said as he walked with you up the stairs. “It senses any unnatural movements and immediately alerts me. I was told to get it because of how high in rankings I’ve gotten, but that’s not the reason I got it.”He didn’t have to say anything, you knew he got it so once he had you in his grasp he could kill what little chance you ever had of escaping again. You despised it, and you almost wished that you’d caused a scene when he found you in the middle of the city, that way there would be a possibility for someone else to get involved.
The room is what surprised you the most, looking around, the dreary atmosphere never disappeared. All black sheets on the bed, black curtains covering the windows, a few pictures on the grey walls, and a book for you to entertain yourself with on the nightstand. The TV remote was on top of the dresser, usually where you couldn’t get to it.
Worst of all was the cuffs that he had connected to the bars on the head stand, the silver metal glinting like it was taunting you. They greeted you like an old friend, welcoming you back. He turned to you.
“I got those out the moment I learned that you left, they’ve been connected to the bed ever since.” You could feel the anger that he’d been pushing down surprisingly well.
You looked down in shame, focusing on the clean white carpet instead of anything else as he sat by your side. Tamaki was an interesting captor, he could be clingy while almost being able to be normal and then switch to something terrifying. That’s why you’d ran away, he was much more dangerous than someone that was constantly acting crazy.
“Look at me, (Y/n),” he muttered, crawling on top of you and making you lay down on your back, a large hand trapping your wrists together just in case.
Slowly, you made eye contact with surprisingly dark blue. For being so timid, he knew how to scare people if needed, you being no exception. Especially not after what you’d pulled.
“You’re not leaving me again, understand? I’m not the same as when you left me. I don’t care what I have to do, if I have to keep you in chains for the rest of our lives or otherwise. I love you so much, I almost went insane when you left me, and I will never let that happen again.”
The storm outside had grown worse, hearing the wind shake the shatterproof windows and the rain patter on the roof, thunder and lightening raging loudly. It was like nature was mourning your loss of freedom as well.
He let go of one wrist only to reach out and grabbed the cuff. You winced as the cold metal dug into your wrist, the other one quickly following. You looked up at him desperately, but he met you with a cold gaze.
"That’s just a precaution, until I can trust you again.” You shivered as his hand ran up your leg, clamping down and squeezing your inner thigh. “And that won’t be for a very, very long time.”
[ SUM ] — choso works at the dying seaside movie theater, permanently high and painfully untouched. you’re the new regular that gives him mean glares, then cute smiles? he tries to blame the summer heat… but really? he’s just one shift away from snapping—and you’re the only one he’s got his eye on.
[ A/N ] — i actually don’t read a lot of choso fics, but this idea was not leaving my head, so enjoy!!!
choso was many things. but caring about his job was not one of them.
and that’s how you find the movie theater worker. sitting behind the counter scrolling mindlessly on his phone, loose baggy jeans and an oversized band tee, hitting his vape. and with just as much boredom, if not more, you step up to the counter and with the least amount of enthusiasm in your voice, and ask.
“can I get one blue raspberry slushy.”
choso practically jumps ten feet in the air. dropping his vape and phone the second he sees you standing there. the theater was completely empty, considering it was a monday afternoon, but it looked like you appeared out of thin air—
“jesus christ,” he heaves, catching his breath. “yeah sure.”
he shoots you one glance, eyeing your casual outfit, before moving to grab you a cup in their only available size. you stand quietly, hand briefly coming up to suppress a yawn. it’s silent. just the quiet actions of the worker.
he places the drink in front of you, turning the small screen for you to pay. but you just pull out a twenty, before pointing to one of the posters they’re showing in their three theaters. “and one ticket.”
choso hums, rubbing his eye as he includes that in the total, printing out your ticket.
“anything else?”
you shake your head for half a second, grabbing your drink and ticket, then heading to theater two.
he muttered a good night once the film ended and you were leaving. you barely offered him a polite wave in return.
that was the first time you met choso, but you didn’t know that was his name until the third week you came. you point to your chest.
“shouldn’t you guys have name tags?” you ask as he fills your cup with your usual blue raspberry slushy.
“lost mine,” he mutters, placing the drink on the counter, eyes clearly bloodshot and lidded. “my name’s choso if ya need anything,” he rings your drink and ticket up, turning the screen.
then his brows crease briefly, eyes snapping up to you, almost like he finally processed your question again before he starts sputtering, “don’t report me though, if that’s why you wanted to know my name. I don’t even smoke in the theater, it’s just a vape.”
and that was the first time he saw you smile.
your eyes gleam with a little mischief and amusement, taking your drink and ticket without uttering a single word.
choso worked at the small local movie theater every summer and winter break. primarily to get away from his nagging dad asking him about his future, as if he’s convinced choso actually attends all his classes and isn’t moving around pot for extra cash. and also to get away from his uncle who’s doing god knows what with megumi’s dad.
either way, the theater job was chill. the owner was his gramps and he let’s choso handle practically everything, and lately choso’s found himself looking forward to seeing you come in multiple times a week so he’s taken up more shifts.
sometimes he would casually stand at the front of the theater when it was empty, which it usually was, and smoke a joint. his dark bloodshot eyes shining when he’d see you cross the street.
the hot summer sun was beating down on you, your cropped top was stuck to your body like a second skin, hips swaying in your jeans.
“fuck,” he exhales lowly. your chest gleaming from the sweat.
you wipe your forehead, slightly out of breath as you shoot him one single glance, smiling to yourself once he follows you inside like a lost puppy.
“were you running?” choso coughs, putting out his joint, and picking up his pace as you reach the counter.
you nod, “yeah, was at the old diner a few blocks away with my friends,” your shirt was pretty low cut, desperately controlling his eyes from wandering as he grabbed a cup and went to the slushy machine.
“friends?”
“yeah from high school and stuff. we usually jus’ hangout in the summer since we all go to different schools now,” your tone is so easy and light, choso always feels like he’s floating when you speak. or it could be because of the weed he just smoked. either way, every time you come in now, he feels it’s less and less awkward talking to you.
“so why’d you rush here?” he casually asks, placing the slushy in front of you, hands leaning over the counter. you were shorter than him, but you still carried yourself high which had lately started to make him fantasize about things.
you glance between his sunken eyes, chest still coming down from the light jog you had. “I always come around this time,” was the explanation you’d give him. but deep down, choso was praying you’d say it was because of him. still, you point to another old movie that’s playing and finally disappear into the theater.
it wasn’t until a few weeks later, and the fourth of july rolled around.
surprisingly, the owner kept the theater open, and choso would rather smoke on the job, than get caught by his dad or uncle back home so he took the shift. however, the last thing choso was expecting when he was walking absentmindedly in the theater as fireworks went off outside, was for someone to walk in.
and that someone being you.
“you guys really stay open,” you smile, something you’ve started doing more with him. choso’s red eyes widen, heart palpating at the sight.
you were fucking breathtaking.
his mind was so high in the clouds he couldn’t control it anymore, his eyes immediately wandering down. his ears burn red, eyeing the short short skirt you’re wearing, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. even the half-zipped sweater you’re wearing barely covered your top which was a red bikini top that hugged your breasts as they bounced lightly. “choso?”
his eyes quickly snap to your face, cheeks aflame as he stutters out a reply, “yeah, uh—you wanna watch something?”
choso swallows thickly glancing down at your chest again as you walk up to him, fingers at the hem of your sweater, fixing up the zipper before slowly pulling it up. “someone told me,” you stop in front of him, big seductive eyes batting up at the stoner, “that there’s a better view of the fireworks, from this roof.” your finger points up.
it takes a moment for choso to register your words, his eyes now glancing at your glossy lips, beyond tempted to brush his thumb across it. “someone told you?” he repeats, brain still processing as you hum. suddenly his eyes snap to yours, wide and alert, “wait I said that!”
your lip tugs up, laughing softly, and it feels like a shot of dopamine was just injected into his veins. “you said I should come to see the fireworks here. did you forget?”
choso gulps, remembering now, how could he forget. maybe because he thought there was no way you’d ever come. which is ridiculous considering you’ve been coming every week since the start of summer. but it was the fourth of july you had to have been doing something before this to be dressed like that.
“choso?”
the stoner blinks, electing a light giggle from you which sends him into orbit, but he manages to push his hair back, biceps flexing in his old tee shirt, catching you by surprise.
“shit, yeah—here follow me.”
choso felt like he was floating the second his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you further into the theater all the way into the back. the marijuana in his system easing his nerves as he led you up to the second floor. completely unaware how flustered you’d suddenly gotten.
your heart was racing at the sudden contact, his hand warm, cheeks hot as you glanced at it wrapped around your smaller wrist. your chest heats up as you notice the veins that run up his forearm. the tee he was wearing was much more firm fitted than his usual oversized ones, which extenuated his broad back.
“woah,” you exhale.
“huh?” choso glances over his shoulder, catching you by surprise. “did ya say something?”
you swallow thickly, shaking your head. his lips part before closing into a tight lipped awkward smile, turning. you’re so hot. you watch him reach the ladder in the back room on the second floor.
“lemme just unlock the hatch first,” he says, letting go of your hand to climb the latter. your fingers loosely wrap around one of the bottom steps as he reaches the top. he digs his hand in his pocket grabbing the set of keys.
maybe this wasn’t the best spot to stand because now your entire body feels like it’s on fire as you watch the, once, chill slightly dorky movie theater worker reach both arms over his head, his shirt riding up and exposing a sliver of skin, along with the few hairs that peak out of his black Calvin Klein boxers and loose jeans. oh fuck, you can see his defined v-line—
“there we go!” choso smiles, pushing the hatch up hearing it bang and the lights shine in the night sky in the distance. choso hooks the keys back on his belt loop as he climbs to the top, hand stretched out for you.
damn, your heart is thudding against your chest as you reach the top. his shockingly muscular arm flexes once your small one falls in his palm feeling a second wave of heat flood your body. you were so consumed by how flustered you’re suddenly getting that you miss a ladder step and slip—
“woah! careful,” his arm catches the edge of the latch, holding your bicep with his other hand. “grab the ladder,” but before you could even find your footing again, he’s lifting you higher. your body weight seemed like nothing to him. you’re halfway out of the hatch when you’re finally able to stand on the final step. “you okay?” he’s heaving lightly, hand falling from your bicep to your waist, brows creased and eyes still bloodshot.
this is bad.
your name leaves his soft voice again, a tinge of concern in his eyes when he notices you staring off. “a-are you high too?” he cuts again, finally able to shake you back to reality.
“no, I’m fine. thanks,” you gently pat his shoulder as a thank you, the action filled with timid awkwardness, nothing like how you usually were.
his brow raises, glancing at your sudden attitude change. are you acting differently?
you wet your lips, crossing your arms feeling slightly more self conscious as you walk further away from the hatch you came out of. choso is not far behind, dusting his jeans and stepping up beside you, hand digging in his pockets for another joint.
“wait,” he puts the joint in his mouth, then stands behind you. both his hands come up to your arms as he walks backwards. completely unaware of the shock his touch sends throughout your body, even over the sweater! your heart hammers louder, mouth dry as you try to look over your shoulder. “yeah, here. now look up.” he unconsciously squeezes your arms, nodding his chin up, hands sliding off you to grab his lighter.
your face burns, mouth going dry as you watch the theater worker casually light his joint, jaw flexing at the action as he inhales.
his dark black lashes flutter as the smoke fills his lungs and dulls his senses. he looks so effortlessly pretty….it felt like this is the first time you were seeing him. like you hadn’t realized the first fifty times you came to the theater that he was actually pretty attractive. or that his lips were a pretty pink as he exhaled the smoke. or that he was taller than you, of course you knew that, but your body didn’t fully sink that fact in until now.
“you sure you’re not high?” choso cuts, glancing down at you seeing you still staring at him.
your eyes widen, glancing away. “no, not high.” choso’s hums, shoving one hand in his pocket as he stands beside you, both of you silently waiting. as for choso, the joint from earlier had loosely dulled his anxious heart, but he could still feel the heat creeping up his neck. your body heat so close to his arm, occasionally glancing down at you. eyes flicking over your breasts, then face, then back down.
“where were you before this?” choso breaks the silence.
you glance down at yourself then up at him. “there was a fourth of july party at my friends beach house.”
choso hums, “sounds fun.”
you nod, “yeah. it was fun.”
another sound leaves the man’s lips, rocking on his heels, keeping the conversation going as best as he can. “how come you never bring one of your friends to the movies with you?”
a silent beat passes.
choso looks back at you, your smile no longer playing on your glossy kissable lips. the joint slowly burns between his fingers, heart picking up at your silence.
“was that tmi?” he quickly cuts, salvaging the moment, no filter whatsoever.
your fingers lazily play with the zipper on your sweater, shaking your head. “no…I just like watching movies alone,” you shrug, “all my friends talk through the whole thing anyways.”
“ahhh yeah, that’s like super annoying,” choso nods in agreement, earning a soft giggle from you. “watching movies alone is such a vibe.” you hum again, smiling.
another beat of silence follows, but luckily the second round of fireworks begin. you and choso simultaneously tilt your heads up, faces illuminated by the lights.
“woah,” you both exhale. choso snorts, taking another hit before passing it over to you. you glance at the joint, leaning forward. “oh,” choso blushes, bringing the joint up to your pretty lips, watching you closely as you wrap your lips where his once were, and inhaling.
you can still hear your heart racing behind your ears.
your fingers lightly brush his wrist, before pulling back. you do your best to hold in the smoke, then exhaling, onto for a throaty cough to come out.
“shit,” choso bursts out laughing, softly patting your back. you flush deeply, still coughing as you hear the man laugh a little louder at how flustered you are.
to think you were this nonchalant regular that would give him attitude, and finding out you’re just as awkward as him. well maybe he’s still the weird one, but it was cute seeing you struggle to take another hit to prove some stupid thing to him. so he holds the joint for you again, letting you hit and you do better this time. eyeing him down as if you really showed him.
“cute,” he mutters.
flustered by his comment, you distract yourself, and move a step forward before squatting carefully to sit on the roof. however, when you start to lean backwards—
“what’re you doing!” choso suddenly lurches forward, stopping you from laying down with a hand on your head.
your brows fly up, “I’m just laying down??”
“this roof is dirty as shit!” choso scrambles, looking around for god knows what. you’re still looking at him, even more confused. why is he suddenly freaking out? “here!” he resolves the problem the only way he knows how.
his arm comes over his head, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking the material off.
“what the—“ your cheeks sting, eyes bulging wide at the sight of choso completely shirtless. what the fuck! your brain short circuits. he was built! his abs were defined, and his arms are huge. he’s literally the definition of sleeper build. and is that a “tattoo?”
choso was bent down, laying his shirt behind you, catching a glimpse at the large tattoo on his back. “huh—“ he glances up catching your eye as he looks over his shoulder, almost like he forgot he had a giant tattoo on his sculpted back. “oh yeah, cool right?” he smiles widely.
how can he be so hot and dorky at the same time?! you internally scream, because now you’re just nodding, too flustered to respond.
“my dad fucking killed me when he found out. here lay down,” he pats his shirt, then crawls beside you and lays down.
now the two of you, side by side, stare up the flashing lights, and distant laughs and cheers from the town, everyone’s eyes were up. and then you realize…
“I was gonna put my hood on, you know…so like…you didn’t have to take your shirt off, dude.”
a beat.
choso’s ears are a bright red, then you feel him turn his head to you.
you do the same.
and the deadpan look on the man’s face had you sucking in your lips, holding back a horrible laugh.
“well…” was all he could respond with.
your lips curve into a smile as the sound of your laugh bursts out and fills his ears. your eyes close laughing harder when he tries to keep that deadpan look, especially with how bloodshot his eyes were, he was not fully present.
but eventually, he gives in. laughing with a touch of embarrassment, grumbling under his breath, before nudging you with his muscular arm. “it’s summer so it’s not that crazy,” he huffs.
you laugh again, but make him feel better with an encouraging nod. “for sure. I’m wearing a bikini under here so I can’t really say anything,” but you still laugh at him.
“yeah whatever,” choso sarcastically snorts, but then his eyes fall to your bent knees, your beach skirt exposing more flesh as it rests on your waist. you couldn’t stop laughing, hand on your stomach as you lean towards him, leg touching his waist.
“sorry sorry,” you wave, “just the face you pulled was crazy.” you slowly come down, stomach hurting from how much you’d been laughing. unaware of the warm palm resting on your thigh now, until you feel the light caresses of a foreign touch.
“my bad for tryna be a gentleman,” he mutters, tone laced with amusement, but his eyes were slightly lidded. gaze locked on your face, brushing his calloused palm over the surface of your thigh.
your heart skips a beat. skin breaking out into goosebumps. how did we get here?
the bursts of fireworks fall quiet, senses focused on him and his heavy breathing. his dark orbs glance over your lips. face inching closer. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating louder, not when you feel his warm breath fanning across your face now. is going to kiss you? please please let him kiss you.
similar to you, choso couldn’t not keep his heart from pounding in his ears. palms turning clammy, the sudden confidence, slowly sinking now that he’s so close. fuck—
“is it—“
his words are cut by your lips. his gasp eaten by your hungry mouth as you swallow another whimper from him. your hand gently cups his jaw, lips molding against his, parting them to swipe your tongue across his.
“open,” your soft command, had a pathetic groan escaping the man’s throat.
your confidence was souring at his response. his hand squeezes your thigh, letting you hook your leg across his lap. sliding closer to him as the kiss deepens. neither of you could focus on anything else other than the touch and taste of each other.
you pull away, catching your breath as he pants, hand squeezing your waist under your sweater. “you’re so pretty,” he husks, cupping your head and pulling you back to his lips, taking control. the shift in dominance has a wave of heat pooling between your legs. pressing yourself against him, just to feel a hard tent.
choso swears under his breath as your leg shifts on his bulge. your name leaves his lips, jaw straining. “I needa sec…”
his breath is hot, swallowing another moan when you purposely shift again. blushing at the moan like whimper that leaves his mouth. your nails slide across his pecs, sending shivers down his spine, and blood to his crotch.
“seriously,” he squeezes your waist, groaning as you press your thigh firmly on the bulge, smiling at the twist in his expression.
your lips brush his lightly, smirk tugging at the corners, “is it okay if we keep going?”
choso freezes. his eyes are wide, completely out of his element, unable to react as he watches you climb on top of him. cheeks flushed as you settle back on the large bulge that tent his jeans up. your pretty hands fall on his warm chest, lashes fluttering down at him.
he must be dreaming right now.
the fireworks go off above you. the lights beaming in the night sky and illuminating your seductive silhouette. now this was the same girl that gave him teasing banter for the last month.
“choso?” you softly coo, hips slowly grinding down on his bulge, the friction of his jeans against your thin swim suit bottom had your stomach twisting in pleasure. “you still with me?”
an embarrassing noise leaves the stoner’s lips. his face turns a darker shade of red.
your lips part again, a gentle sigh of pleasure escaping. “do you like me, choso?”
the man finally is able to nod, followed by his hands on your thighs and waist again. you smile, leaning forward, lips hovering over his as you whisper softly, “I think I’m starting to like you too.”
all sanity flys out the window. his lips crash into yours, swallowing a gasp as your bodies mold perfectly. it was amusing to anyone else, the way two young adults, both playing at the timid confidence and flirting, making out heavily on the roof of a struggling movie theaters. desperately dry humping like your life depends on it.
“ngh fuck,” choso grunts, hips bucking as he pulls the zipper of your sweater off. his hand easily falls on your breast, groping the flesh. “this okay?” he asks, nibbling on your bottom lip. however, he doesn’t wait for a response before pulling your bikini top down exposing your tits to the warm summer air.
“choso,” you whine, jaw slacking as he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking like he’s been deprived of water. he moans around the bud, hand falling to grab your ass, rocking you more.
the air grew thicker around you. his bare chest was burning under your palm, his heart racing as you continued grinding your clothed pussy on his jeans, unaware that the material has been sliding to the side, allowing your arousal to stain his pants. the two of you were possessed. his teeth tugged on your nipple, eyes flicking up to catch your pretty face twist in pleasure, jaw going slack as you began shivering.
“y’ look like you’re gonna cum?” he mutters, tongue swirling around your nipple like a lollipop.
an incoherent whine leaves your lips, unable to speak when you’re so close.
“fuck, you’re gonna cum now. yeah—haah gonna cum just from humping me?” he’s both amused and so unbelievably turned on. his cock was leaking desperately in his boxers, jaw clenched when your humping grew sloppier, pretty lashes fluttering. “shit…” choso groans as he watches you come undone. your luminous eyes are glossed over, jaw slack with a silent oh escaping your lips.
your thighs tremble around his waist, back curving forward, cumming from just a measly dry hump session.
you bury your face in the man’s neck, completely embarrassed. did you seriously just cum? the heat spreads up your neck, to the tips of your ears. however, a deep voice suddenly breaks your anxious heart.
“that was really fucking…hot.”
your heart clenches.
“you feel good?” choso is completely unaware of your reserved reaction to what had just happened. his words just spew from his lips without a second thought. it was usually how he spoke to you before, but in this setting, it brought you more comfort than you were willing to admit you needed.
your lips turn to the shell of his ear, arms wrapped around his neck, and lowly replying, “yeah.”
the slight rasp in your tone sent shivers down the man’s spine, his cock twitching in its confines, hips pushing up. his hand slides to your ass, biting his lip as he grabs a handful of your cheek. the other brushed along your spine under your sweater.
“I don’t know if you noticed,” he starts, face turning to nudge you up, a lopsided grin plays on his lips as you hover close to him. “but I’m really fuckin’ hard.”
you swallow thickly, cheeks burning hot, his lips brush yours again, kissing your bottom lip. his sudden switch between submission and soft dominance left you spinning. now you’re wondering how big he is. especially when you start to sit up, shuffling further down his lap so you’re straddling his thighs.
“I’m gonna….” you trail off, wetting your lips as you start to unbuckle his belt, heart racing as you eye the light hairs that grow darker the lower you go.
choso is in a similar position, possibly worse since he’s rethinking you taking his cock out. his heart is racing, praying the moment you wrap your hand around him he doesn’t cum.
choso doesn’t sleep around — he has slept with the occasional clients back in university, but he definitely doesn’t compare to the fuck boys in the frats. but to say, even with those experiences, watching you unzip his jeans, still two layers over his bare cock, was the most exhilarating feeling ever.
you flush as you thumb his boxers, hooking your fingers around them before—
“what the fuck are you doing on the roof!”
a loud yelp escapes your mouth as you duck to the side of choso, covering yourself from the stranger’s head popping out of the hatch.
choso immediately sits up, turning around in fury, hands coming to his pants.
the low whistle sends even more heat bursting through you and choso, followed by the stranger’s boisterous laugh. “ah ya took her to the spot. told ya this always gets em in.”
your heart stops.
“shut up,” choso snaps. fully sat and reaching to help you fix yourself. however, you immediately brush his hands off, zipping your sweater on your own.
what did that guy mean by this always gets them?
“can you give us a sec?” choso huffs, the stranger was now standing on the roof beside the hatch, hands in his pockets and lit cigarette in his mouth.
“ya left the theater unlocked, you’re lucky it was me and not the old man that came around,” the man tilts his chin to the fireworks still in the sky. “plus i wanted to see the view,” he smirks, sharp crimson eyes skimming your figure.
you brush your skirt off, skeptically glancing at the man as you and choso stand.
“yeah whatever,” choso huffs, cheeks burning red as he faces you, away from the man as he tries to hide his obvious boner.
“who is that?” you glance over choso’s shoulder, the man was still smiling wickedly.
choso tsks at the question. he does his best with his bulge before turning around.
“that’s my uncle ryo.”
uncle? your heart speeds up, so it definitely wasn’t some joke then. why would he say this always gets them?? your mind starts spiraling, hands getting clammy as you glance at his uncle again, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes as you follow choso to the hatch.
“sorry to breakup the lovemaking,” his uncle adds.
you reach the latch when choso is suddenly stopped by the older man, his hand catching his shoulder, turning choso to face him.
“dude,” choso tilts his face away, knowing exactly what’s about to happen, but his uncle holds him still either way.
“how fucked up are you?”
choso’s tsks, jaw clenching, “jus’ smoked like two joints, I’m fine.”
sukuna eye’s narrow at his nephew, letting go. “I won’t tell ye’r dad—“
“yeah, I know. you owe me—“
“cut the shit,” his uncle snaps, pointing at him, “walk home. leave the car.”
choso waves him off in disinterest, turning back towards the hatch when—you’re gone.
his sweat turns cold, quickly racing down the ladder, sharp eyes catching a familiar raven haired man at the bottom. of course his uncle and toji are about to do some shady ass shit now. choso brushes it off and quickly jogs down to the lobby catching your pretty skirt exiting the front doors.
“wait!—“ choso calls your name, sprinting out and catching your wrist with a firm, gentle grasp.
your heart lurches in your throat, stomach twisting into an uncomfortable knot. he’s panting beside you, dirty t-shirt thrown over his shoulder. the fireworks were still going off, and the streets were filled with teenagers and young adults running around with sparklers and making bad decisions.
“I’m really sorry about my uncle. i didn’t know he’d come by—“
“s’ fine,” you cut in, unable to stomach a second thought about what his uncle had hinted at. “I’m gonna head home.”
choso can’t help the sudden jump in anxiety he’s feeling. did his uncle really mess things up with you for good? he treated you nicely though, does that not mean anything. choso swallows the lump in his throat, nodding his head, but instead of letting go of your wrist, you’re suddenly being pulled to his broad chest.
his muscular arms carefully wrap around your smaller form, hugging you close, eyes shut tight. “I’ll see you later…?”
choso’s question hangs in the humid summer air. his heart thumps louder the longer you’re silent, biceps twitching with nerves.
it was an unfamiliar experience. your skin was sticky with sweat, insides hollow and unsure, but your body moved before you can think too much. “yeah,” you quietly mutter, giving him a gentle hug back, allowing him to finally pull away from you.
the booms and cracks of the fireworks echoed through the alleys and streets, quietly rattling store windows as choso watched you disappear into the crowd. and the moment you left his sight, he definitely knew something was wrong.
his anxiety was only proven correct once the following week came around…
choso was sat at the counter, heart thumping loudly as he waited for your usual intimidating aroma to walk through the doors, monday afternoon. you’d be stoic, but the moment you asked for your blue raspberry slushy and he’d make some lazy comment, you’d grace him with your smile.
but you never came.
not monday, or tuesday, or wednesday, or that entire week. and with every passing day, choso grew more and more heartbroken and bitter. was it really because he tried to fuck you on the first night? you kissed him first!
“nah man, girls are just weird,” his close friend ino drags, the usual beanie still covering his light brown hair even in the summer heat. his arms were covered in grease stains, gloves resting on his lap.
choso frowns, joint still between his fingers as the two sit outside toji’s beachside car shop. “that’s not an explanation,” he huffs.
“well,” ino thinks some more, “did you say something wrong?”
“no,” choso’s leaning on his knees, fingers scratching his sharp jaw. “i said sorry because my uncle interrupted.”
“so she’s mad at sukuna?”
choso’s shakes his head, “but that doesn’t make any sense? why would she ignore me?”
suddenly a deep voice cuts behind them, “she looked heartbroken when i saw her running out.”
the two young adults turn their heads, toji was standing a few feet away clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. his white wife beater was covered in grease stains and sweat that trickles down his back and chest. the older man swiped his forehead with his arm.
“what’re you talking about?” choso’s brows pinch.
toji shrugs, wiping his hands with a rag, “the cutie on the roof with you last week. saw her climb down the ladder lookin’ devastated as shit.”
choso’s jaw clenches, “how do you know she was upset?”
the older man scoffs, wicked smirk on his lips, “i know when a woman is heartbroken.”
ino holds stifles a laugh, glancing at choso who doesn’t bother to question toji, he’s known him long enough to trust his instincts with women. however, this leave choso even more confused.
“so was she upset at uncle? or maybe that i made her vulnerable and he saw?”
“vuLnErable,” ino chuckles, just for choso to kick his friend.
toji shrugs, walking over, “could be.”
“or she’s a virgin!” ino shouts, solving mystery.
choso’s eyes widen, “a virgin?!!”
toji deadpans at the young men, “don’t listen to him,” he tosses his dirty rag at ino. “from what y’ said, i fuckin’ doubt she’s a virgin—“
“she’s not a slut!” choso defensively cuts.
toji rolls his eyes,” I didn’t say she was slut.” choso’s eyes are still aflame, standing his ground. toji sighs, “ino’s right.”
“for real?” the twenty-two year old smiles.
“women are confusin’, ya gotta talk to her and ask,” toji shrugs, like it’s that simple.
choso’s head falls forward, “she hasn’t been around the last week. that’s the whole point man!” he groans into his hands. “I thought you know women.”
toji snorts, leaning down to snatch the joint from choso, taking a drag. “I do if I’m with ‘em. I read body language, kid,” he winks.
ino laughs, while choso frowns, “her body language was that she came from dry humping me.”
toji exhales from his nose, laughing, “not just sex. general body language, facial expression, eye contact.”
“oh…”
toji takes one last drag before dropping the joint on the ground and putting it out.
“dude!”
“y’er dad’s comin’ to pick up his car,” toji nods towards ino, the kid sighs dabbing up choso before jogging back to the shop. “she’ll come.”
the week following your absence was worse than the one before. all choso could do was wait. wait until you finally come to theater so he can clear whatever miscommunication managed to happen without him even realizing. all of it was infuriating, especially because he didn’t have your number or any of your socials so it was impossible to contact you—
“one blue raspberry slushy.”
choso jumps so violently and inhaling like someone just unplugged him from the universe and plugged him back in at full voltage.
the vape he was twirling between his fingers clatters onto the counter. he hadn’t even seen you walk up, he was too busy having an out-of-body experience staring at the theater’s carpet pattern, convinced the swirls were breathing back at him.
but then you speak. and suddenly you’re there. right in front of him.
his soul launches into the astral plane for the second time tonight. “oh—” he chokes, jerking back so hard his elbows smack the slushy machine. his eyes shoot to you, wide and slightly bloodshot, like a startled cat who just saw god.
and god, apparently, looks like you.
after ten dry, agonizing, notification-less days, there you stand glowing in the neon reflection of the concessions menu like an angel descending from the heavens with a halo.
you’re an angel. a terrifying, sudden, beautiful angel who kissed and dry humped him days ago then vanished like a fucking heart stabbing tragedy. and then you just fucking walked in holding exact change.
“you scared the shit outta me,” he whispers, voice shaking, but there’s no real accusation in it, just awe. the kind that sounds a little like heartbreak and a lot like love.
you don’t grace him with a smile. your eyes don’t even meet his fully, only flick over his face briefly, then glancing at the three films playing, pointing to one.
choso’s heart beats erratically. palms clammy as he grabs your drink. you were wearing the same sweater you wore that night, but this time it was a cute spaghetti strap sundress that reached mid thigh underneath….are you gonna say anything? maybe something happened to you that’s why you didn’t show up…fuck no, toji already confirmed you were upset with him, or uncle ryo. fuck!
“can we talk about—“
you turn on your heel once he placed your drink and ticket down. disappearing into the theater.
“what the fuck?” choso’s insides twist into a fighting pit of anger and confusion. so you’re not even going to talk to him now? acting the same fucking way you did the first time you met??
his heart hammers against his chest with every passing minute. knee bouncing on the floor glancing at the theater door.
“fuck me—“
the stool slams back into the counter as choso rises. the adrenaline quietly pumps through his veins as he enters the theater, eyes scanning the room, before landing on your form two rows from the back.
it was the first time he left his position to see you. not counting the fourth of july.
“if you tell me what’s wrong or whatever, I’ll leave you alone,” choso whispers, not caring one bit that you’re trying to watch chungking express.
his jaw clenches at your silence, your legs crossed and hands holding your blue raspberry slushy, sucking the straw with a frown tugging at your brows. you’re definitely upset.
“is it about my uncle? I’m really sorry he walked in. for real, I had no idea he was coming,” choso whispers, heart beating quickly, desperately trying to remember the other things he wanted to say. “and I should’ve taken you on a date first, o-or just asked you out first. so I’m sorry for being douche and tryna fuck you—“
your head suddenly snaps to him, your lips blue. his breath catches, and his heart immediately sinks to his stomach at the sight of your glassy eyes glaring at him.
“I’m not mad that you wanted to fuck me, choso,” you whisper, chest rising in anger. “I’m mad that this how you fuck me.”
huh? choso shakes his head. “what’re you talking about??”
your jaw clenches, eyes narrowing at him, “how many times have you done this with other girls? it’s—“ your face contorts, “it’s disgusting.“
choso is even more lost than he was before.
your heart beats erratically in your chest, eyes wavering as you glance between his. the large theater screen the only source of light, as choso shifts closer to see your face.
“honestly, I’m sorry, but i have zero clue what the hell you’re talking about right now. what trick? I didn’t trick you?? and other girls. I’ve been bumming my whole summer in this theater??”
you frown, “I don’t need an explanation seriously,” you mutter turning back to the screen. “we’re not even a thing.”
“I want an explanation because I’m really lost here,” choso’s agitated voice irks you, throat drying as your eyes flick to him.
“your uncle said some bs about, this always gets them in, how else am I supposed to interpret that?”
your words suddenly clear the fog in chose’s mind. breaking the surface as he blinks with absolute annoyance.
“are you kidding me?” he whispers, voice low sending chills down your spine. you frown. “so you assumed he meant me?”
your eyes flick between his, “well…yeah.”
choso’s face is suddenly inches from you, his hot breath fanning over yours. “my uncle used to work here when he was in school. i’d mentioned you once to him and he told me about how he brought girls up here to watch the fireworks,” choso’s lips brush your ear, deep husky voice laced with inconvenience. “there were no list of girls. I already knew the view was good from there and invited you just for that.” your heart suddenly starts beating with anxiety, throat growing dry as he continues. “there was no master plan…my uncle’s jus’ a narcissistic dick and thinks he deserves credit for everything.”
choso’s lips brush the shell of your ear, his hand hesitantly touching your wrist. “I never took any girls up there. and you would’ve known all that if you just asked me to clarify.”
with a blink of an eye, you’re pushing his chest back, pretty eyes glowing up at him.
“really?”
choso immediately flushes, heart pounding out of his chest as his ears turn pink.
how are you able to go from zero to a hundred in seconds?
he’s left speechless by you’re shining orbs, nodding wordlessly.
then, straight out of his prayers, you finally grace his humble self with your warm, infectious smile.
“i—“ your words don’t come fast enough as you embrace the stoner. arms wrapped around his shoulder hugging him close. “I’m sorry.” your apology doesn’t even attempt to ease his racing heart. “I don’t know. I was being dramatic, but like we also don’t know each other that well anyways, so you can’t blame me for just yeah—“
“I wanna know you,” choso suddenly cuts, his arms wrapped around your waist.
“me too,” you smile bashfully, relieved he can’t see your face. “but you know what I mean…right, choso?”
his hands squeeze your torso, humming against your shoulder as he inhales your ocean-coconut scent. “so were you mad about what happened on the roof?” he can’t help but question, especially when your lips are ghosting over his ear now, sighing softly with a slight shake of your head.
“I wasn’t mad about that. it was all perfect until your uncle came,” you exhale, sending shivers down his spine.
the creaking and hushed whispers in the back barely concealed the truth behind what was unfolding.
his body is unable to stop himself from guiding you to his lap, lips ghosting over one another.
“so you wanted to have sex with me?” choso whispers, smile playing on your glossy lips.
“mmm…felt bad about leaving you unsatisfied like that,” your lips part along with his, your tongues connecting, just as his hand squeeze your waist with a pathetic whimper. he’s so quick to whine, it sends a flood of heat between your legs.
“you’re hard now,” you mutter, settling on his bulge for the second time.
choso swallows a moan, “can’t be surprised. got an angel devil on top of me.”
you’re heart skips a beat, lips crashing onto his. neither of you care that you’re in an empty theater, and the risk of anyone walking in was still high. your actions remained hushed, intimate.
choso was melting the second he had his hands on you. tongue tasting you the blue raspberry slushy on your tongue, unashamed by your smirk. “cho?” your fingers move between you, unbuckling his belt.
heat breaks out across his face, heart speeding. “you wanna?”
you nod, mischief gleaming under your lashes.
choso silently swears under his breath, biting his lip as he quietly helps you shimmy his jeans down, breath catching once you place your palm on his bulge. “feels big,” you mutter against his lips. his cheeks sting, cock twitching in his boxers. you continue groping and feeling him, smile playing on your lips as he whimpers.
“s-stop teasing,” his grip tightens on your waist, your sweater slipped off your shoulder.
“jus’ wanted to feel,” you coo lowly, licking his bottom lip like a seductress. you then gingerly thumb his waistband, slowly pulling it back and slipping your small cold hand inside. his entire body locks up once you grip his base, pulling him out. “oh.” you’re pleasantly surprised by the size in your hand. “it’s big.”
choso let’s out a shaky exhale, hips rising briefly once his cock touches the cool air. his pretty eyes flick up to you watching you spit in your hand, and slowly start working his cock.
“you’re not gonna cum in my hand, right?” you coo against his lips, back arches over him as you press your pretty breasts agaisnt his chest.
choso swallows a whine, shaking his head. “n-not even you don’t want me too.”
you smile adorably, like you didn’t have this man in the palm of your hand, “good boy.”
fuck.
choso’s head falls back, jaw slack with quiet moans as you jerk his thick cock. his abs clench every time your thumb swipes his tip. tapping the crown like a devil. “d-don’t,” he whimpers.
“but it looks so pretty, cho,” you whisper, kissing his lips. he only whines in reply, kissing you back with more fever. jaw slacking and tongue pushing into your mouth desperate for the taste of the blue raspberry that’s stained your tongue.
it was easy for choso to get drunk of you, and he realizes that when he’s feeling his tip brush a wet soft flesh.
“oh fuck—“ he chokes, he pulls away briefly, gaze dropping to his lap to see his flushed cock rubbing your bare pussy. “wait,” his head snaps up to you, brows furrowed in worry. “is it not to big, I can stretch you out first?”
your fingers brush his jaw, tilting his head up as you kiss the corner of his mouth. your voices hushed, “s’ fine, I can take it.”
choso swallows thickly, hand finding purchase under your dress to grip your waist, and the other holding your ass as you slowly nudge his tip against your entrance.
“okay,” you exhale coolly, slowly sinking down.
“shit,” choso swears between clenched teeth. grip unforgiving as you gasp against him. your cute whimpers were the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. it felt like honey being dripped into his ear as you did your best to swallow his thick pulsing inches. “y’er squeezin me, r-relax baby.”
you whine quietly, gently moving up, just to push down again and take a few more inches. “bigger than I thought cho,” you pant.
his head tilts, capturing your lips, “sorry,” he apologizes, and it actually sounds like he’s sorry for how big he is, especially when you let out another adorable whimper.
but still, he kisses you like it’s the first time he’s ever been intimate with someone. and after a few more shallow bounces, you finally settle every big chubby inch of him inside your gummy walls.
“fuh—you feel so good,” he mutters, “feel so good wrapped around my cock,” your tongues collide as you start grinding against him. hips rocking slowly, as you adjust to his impressive size.
your hearts beat together. breaths colliding as the world slowly disappears, likes it just you two quietly moaning and whining on a theater seat. the creaking and quiet squelches that left your pussy with every bounce didn’t register in your ears. instead your focus remained on one another.
on his voice. your gasps. his curses. your coos.
“I feel so full, choso haah,” you babble, lips glossy from his spit. “d-do you feel me to anh too?”
choso whimpers as you clamp around him as you sink down again. his fingers dig into your ass the other fully wrapped around your waist, biceps flexing around your back. “course I do,” he grunts, bitting your bottom lip. moaning once you drool into his mouth.
nothing else mattered now.
his thick thighs part. his hips angle up, and his firmly plant themselves on the ground. “c’mon, keep riding my cock princess,” choso moans agaisnt your lips. his hips snap up getting you to pick up the speed.
you gasp in surprise, cheeks flushed, sweater falling at your elbows, and the straps of your dress starting to slip of your shoulders as you fix your feet to rest over his knees for better balance. “o-okay choso,” you hold his shoulders as you start picking up the speed.
neither of you could think about the sounds of your ass clapping against his thighs, or the whines that left both your pathetic mouths.
choso kept your pace, helping you bounce your pretty ass up n down his cock like one of his toys. and with every bounce, your pretty breasts followed, until one strap fell low enough for it to expose you to him.
“haah fuck,” choso groans, lips wrapping around your nipple sucking immediately.
“ahh,” you clamp around him, whining. he only moans around you, humming as your nails comb through his hair.
you were lucky you were the only one in the theater, because now it was obvious what was happening. the creaking, the clapping, the moans. it was beyond lewd, and obscene.
“m gonna cum cho,” you whine, bouncing quicker as you chase that coil twisting in your tummy. his flushed tip continues hitting your sweet spot, dragging against your gummy walls with each bounce.
“fuhck—fuck I’m close, keep movin’” he huffs, drooling against your chest as he kisses up your sternum to your neck, panting harshly as he bucks his hips as you start to grow sloppy. “don’t sto—ah-p—“
“I can’t—angh—“ your vision turns white, drool escaping your lips as you fall apart, creaming around the stoner.
choso swears, arms holding you desperately to his chest as he starts pumping his messy cock into your weeping hole. “fuck—tight pussy, melting inside ya—haah—“ his thighs start trembling, muscles flexing underneath you as his head falls on your shoulder.
“so good baaby…ngh haah god—“ his own climax hits him like a truck. the words fall off his tongue and pull out flashes in his mind, but the searing white that blinds him leaves him frozen inside your deep warmth.
“chosoo,” you whine into his neck as the thick ropes of white cum fill your insides.
the stoner pathetically whimpers, hips still bucking as he milks every last drop, emptying his balls, hand wrapped around your nape as the other squeezes around your waist under your dress.
“fhuck,” choso pants, chest heaving as he slowly comes down, lips parting as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your exposed shoulder. trailing them up your neck. “beautiful,” kiss, “so sweet.” his hums and sighs left shivers down your spine as you stroke his long hair. scratching his nape as your lashes flutter.
that’s when a loud whistle cuts the air.
you freeze hugging the man desperately as he lifts your strap up. neither of you realizing the movie had ended.
“y’er shameless, kid. your daddy would be disappointed ya turned out like me.”
a vein pops from choso’s neck.
“dude, what the fuck?” choso groans, hand coming up to fix your sweater on your shoulders again at sukuna laughs beside the door.
“I’m not the one fucking in a public space—“
“fuck off,” choso swears under his breath, choking quietly as he pulls out, electing the softest whimper from your lips. “sorry,” he mutters.
“why is he still here?” you whisper, fixing your dress as you stand up, glancing at his uncle still beside the door, choso quickly tucks himself ignoring the stickiness of your mixed juices.
“because he’s a dick,” choso tsks, leading the way out.
sukuna smirks, eyeing his nephew, “all good?”
“you need the space again” choso holds your hand this time, glaring at his uncle,
sukuna exits first, revealing another man standing beside the door. “something like that. don’t tell your gramps.”
choso hums digging for the theaters keys in his pocket, “don’t tell him about today then,” he tosses the set,
“I don’t talk to that old man anyways,” sukuna catches them. “take the girl out for dinner, can’t just keep fucking her here.”
“dude!”
you glare at the uncle making him smirk wider, shooting you a wink.
choso leads you to the exit as you hold his arm, “your uncle is weird,” you grumble.
“yeah, sorry ‘bout him,” choso catches toji, accepting the wink he gives the kid before exiting the theater. “but uh—you down for dinner—on me?”
you smile, lips still stained blue, “yup. and we needa get plan-b.”
“oh shit!”
a/n: sorry ending if the ending felt rushed! but I hope u guys enjoyed the fic, i just couldn’t get movie theater worker choso out of my head!! (divider by @/strangergraphics)
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Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?
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Katsuki hates me.
You bite down on your lip, doing your best to keep from crying. Even now, your heart is still racing uncontrollably. You never thought you would actually be scared of Katsuki. Of the boy that you’ve known ever since you were a little kid. Part of you can’t help but feel like you’re overreacting, like you’re just being overly sensitive. Katsuki says all sorts of hurtful things, as if it’s routine. You’re no stranger to the threats that come out of his mouth, but words are just that. Words . And for the longest time, you really thought that deep down, he didn’t actually mean what he said.
However, now, it seems all but certain. Katsuki knows that you’ve been keeping Izuku’s Quirk a secret. In his eyes, something like that is an unforgivable crime. Even more so because he’s still struggling to make sense of the fact that Izuku is no longer the weak, powerless loser he always saw him as. The way he looked at you just now was so cold, so malicious , that it makes you doubt if those happy, childhood memories were ever even real.
“[Name],” Uraraka gently nudges, still visibly concerned. “Are you going to be okay?”
…no.
That’s what you’d like to tell her, but it’d be selfish to drag her into your personal problems, not to mention that she wouldn’t understand anyway. You have to keep the truth behind Izuku’s Quirk a secret. All Might made both of you swear on it. Besides, even if you explained it to someone, it probably wouldn’t make you feel any better. Not when your relationship with Katsuki seems to be damaged beyond repair.
“I’m fine.” Fortunately, you manage to hold back your tears, and you even smile for good measure. “Katsuki’s always like that. Him and Izuku really don’t get along, and because I’m so close with Izuku, he gets mad at me all the time too. I’m used to it, so… it’s really fine.”
Neither Uraraka nor Iida look awfully convinced, but out of respect for you, they don’t try to pry any further.
The three of you walk out of the building together, and although you tell them they’re free to go ahead, they insist on waiting to make sure Izuku is okay. He went to get treated by Recovery Girl for his broken finger, but he should be just about done by now.
“Ah,” you perk up. “There he is.”
Izuku walks over, and despite how exhausted he clearly is, he smiles the moment your eyes meet his. If there’s one silver lining in all of this, it’s that nobody ended up being expelled, at least. Also, all things considered, Izuku looks happy. He was able to use his Quirk in such a way that Aizawa acknowledged him. If that’s not a step in the right direction, you’re not sure what is.
“Is your finger all healed?” Iida asks.
“Huh? O-Oh. Yeah,” Izuku nods, shrinking away out of reflex. “Recovery Girl said I’ll be fine. I’m just feeling a bit tired.”
“[Name] said you two always walk home together, so we figured we’d all head to the station as a group, if you don’t mind,” Uraraka smiles. She pauses for a moment, looking a touch confused. “By the way, which is it?”
“Huh?”
“Your first name. Is it Deku, or Izuku? Because Bakugou calls you Deku, but I keep hearing [Name] refer to you as Izuku, so…”
Unsurprisingly, Izuku flinches. He’s been conditioned to have a negative reaction to that nickname. Well, not that you can blame him. If someone randomly assigned you a new name and used it to demean you for the better portion of your life, you would probably hate it, too.
“Ah, um, Deku is just what Kacchan calls me to make fun of me,” Izuku mumbles, gaze drifting towards the ground.
“So, it’s an insult,” Iida mutters, crossing his arms in obvious distaste. “Good grief. What’s wrong with Bakugou? Just earlier, he was incredibly hostile to [Name] as well. Has he really always been like that?”
“...he did what to [Name]?”
Izuku immediately lifts his head up, and there’s no trace of the awkwardness or embarrassment from just moments ago. He stares at Iida, gaze firm and unwavering, and although you don’t notice it, one of his hands is clenched into a fist.
“It was no big deal,” you reassure. You don’t want to worry him for no reason. All Katsuki did was get angry at you, but that’s hardly anything new. Even if it scared you more than you’d like to admit. “He was just mad, like always. He was upset because he thinks I’ve been hiding things from him.”
Izuku clearly realizes you’re referring to One For All, so he nods in understanding, but even as he slowly unclenches his fist, the discomfort stays with him.
But he puts on a smile, so that he can hide it from you.
“As long as you’re okay,” Izuku says.
Uraraka blinks. “I’m not really sure what’s going on, but it sounds like things are really complicated. It sucks that Bakugou acts that way. But, you know, I actually think Deku sounds pretty cool! It gives the impression of never giving up!”
She grins, enthusiastically pumping her fist in the air, and you have to admit, she has a point. You never thought there was anything wrong with the nickname Deku, per se. It’s just that Katsuki made a point of constantly shaming Izuku with it. You consciously avoided using it because you figured it would only upset him more.
Maybe it’s time to stop thinking of it that way, though. U.A is supposed to be a fresh start. Already, things are changing. Izuku has a Quirk now. He got into his dream school, and he was chosen by none other than All Might. Maybe… it’s time to finally leave the past behind. And this doesn’t just apply to Izuku, but you as well.
“Um… I-I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use that nickname at all,” Izuku mumbles, decisively rejecting what Uraraka just said, as well as your own thought process.
“Oh.” She looks a bit surprised, but her smile doesn’t fade. “Don’t worry, I understand if you’re not comfortable with it! So, your real name is Izuku, right? In that case, I’ll just—”
“That’s what [Name] calls me.”
“Oh,” Uraraka says again. This time, she actually does stop smiling. “R-Right. You two are close friends, after all. Sorry! That was rude of me, asking to call you by your first name all of a sudden. I’ll just stick with Midoriya from now on!”
Izuku smiles appreciatively, and the four of you start heading to the train station. As always, you don’t bother reading into Izuku’s behavior. In your eyes, he’s no different than usual. Having people refer to him a certain way all comes down to personal preference, and the fact of the matter is that you’re the only real friend he’s ever had. You’re sure he’ll become more comfortable opening up to others over time.
After all, it’s not like his world only revolves around you.
Maybe it’s because of how stressful your first day of school was, or maybe it’s because you’ve always had an active imagination, or maybe —and sadly, this is most likely the real reason—the truth is that you’re already much more traumatized than you realize.
Whatever the case, that night, your dreams are more vivid than ever before.
It starts off with a familiar scene. Snow is falling from the sky, covering the ground in a blanket of white. You’re dragging your feet along in an attempt to finish your 20-kilometer run, limbs feeling as if they’re heavier than lead, when suddenly, you stop.
Dabi is standing right in front of you.
By the time you scream, it’s too late. Blue flames engulf your body whole. Unlike in the real world, you don’t manage to use your Quirk in time to save yourself. It’s only a dream. A nightmare. Unfortunately, in your present state, you’re not conscious of this fact. You truly believe that you’re dying. That you’re being burned alive.
Please… someone, please. Please just make it stop …!
Miraculously, your prayers are answered. When you blink, you find that you’re completely unharmed. Your skin no longer feels as if it’s being melted off. There aren’t any burn marks, either, and it seems as though Dabi has also disappeared.
You press a hand to your chest and take a weak, shuddering breath. Thank goodness. You’re safe now.
Except you’re not .
The scene changes again. This time, you’re in an alley, and there’s a knife pressed to your throat. You already know all too well what comes next. Sobbing, you grit your teeth and prepare yourself for the sensation of having your throat slit open.
But that doesn’t happen either. Instead, Chisaki appears behind the man that’s holding you hostage, reaching an ungloved hand towards him, and by the time your assailant realizes what’s going on, it’s already too late.
You watch, terror-stricken, as the man’s body erupts. It barely even takes a second. A single one of Chisaki’s fingers grazes him, and just like that, he’s nothing more than a puddle on the ground. You blink repeatedly, somewhat in a daze. There’s a slick sensation against your cheeks, and a distinct, metallic scent filling the air.
“I-It’s—It’s all over me,” you gasp, realizing that you’re now covered head to toe in the man’s blood. “Get it off! Get it off !”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Chisaki growls. He slams you against the wall and holds you there, anger flashing through his golden eyes. Unfortunately, this just scares you even more, and your sobs grow louder, more agonized and desperate.
Until finally, Chisaki runs out of patience.
“Such a headache. All you had to do was be quiet. Didn’t I warn you before? But you didn’t listen. That’s why… you have no one to blame but yourself.”
What follows is a strange, sickening sensation that honestly makes you wish your throat had been slit instead.The pain is instantaneous, like a wave that just crashed into you head-on. It somehow feels as if you’re being ripped apart from all angles, broken down into an infinite number of pieces. You feel everything , down to an atomic level. You can feel your existence being completely and utterly eradicated.
And the worst part of it is that you know that if Chisaki really wanted to, he could bring you back.
But he won’t.
Over and over again, you die. The nightmare replays on a near endless loop, and each time, the outcome is no different than before. You don’t understand why this is happening to you. You don’t understand what you’ve done so wrong to deserve this.
You don’t understand why you’re so fucking weak .
At some point, you awaken, gasping for breath and choking on your own tears. It takes a while to even make sense of everything. You swear you still feel the pain. Either that or you’re being purposefully taunted right now. You’re being granted false hope, a brief respite before someone will inevitably kill you all over again.
“...honey, are you alright?”
It’s your mother’s voice. She must have heard you hyperventilating, and she steps into your room with a worried expression. Seeing her helps you regain your sanity a bit. It really was just a nightmare. The most frightening kind of nightmare of all.
One that could easily become reality.
“I’m fine,” you sniffle, and as nice as it would be to just stay home and wallow in self-pity all day, you don’t have the luxury to do that. Not if you want to break out of this cycle of hopelessness. Not if you want to become a hero.
I need to stop whining. Lots of people have it harder than me. And heroes risk their lives on the job, every single day. This is nothing.
You forcefully push the nightmare—or rather, the trauma —to the back of your mind. As always, Izuku greets you at your front door, and together, you walk to school. Admittedly, seeing him helps. Now that the Quirk Apprehension Test is done and there’s no longer any threat of expulsion, all that remains is excitement. His enthusiasm is so contagious that you can’t help but smile. You really are happy for him. This is everything he’s ever dreamed of.
Contrary to yesterday, you’re surprised to find that everything is so normal . In the morning, U.A has regular academic classes, like you’d find in any other high school. Rather than being bored, as some of your other classmates appear to be, you’re actually grateful for this mundane familiarity. It gives you the chance to calm down. To prepare yourself for whatever this afternoon has in store.
“Let’s eat together!” Uraraka beams. It’s lunchtime now, and even though it’s barely the second day of school, it looks like her and Iida have already integrated themselves as part of your little friend group. Not that you’re complaining, of course.
The cafeteria is huge, as expected of U.A. They’ve also got way more lunch options than you could’ve ever imagined, courtesy of the Cooking Hero who works here as a staff member, Lunch Rush.
“What do you think we’ll be doing for hero studies?” Uraraka asks, shoving a generous helping of rice into her mouth.
“I don’t know, but I can hardly wait!” Izuku exclaims. “All Might’s going to be the one teaching us. I’m so excited!”
You chuckle softly. He’s already closer to All Might than anyone else could possibly fathom, but ultimately, he’s still a fanboy at heart. Some things just never change.
Just as you’re about to take a bite of your own meal—which looks amazing , might you add—someone calls out to you.
“[Name].”
The voice is familiar, and you quickly turn, only to find Monoma standing behind you. He’s not doing much besides holding a food tray, but for some reason, he’s wearing a cocky smirk. It might just be his face, though. He has a pretty arrogant-looking face to begin with.
“Oh. Hey, Monoma,” you greet. Come to think of it, you already knew he ended up in the other Hero Department class, 1-B, but yesterday was so hectic that you didn’t get the chance to ask him about it.
“Are these your classmates?” Monoma asks, gesturing towards the table. His eyes lock with Izuku’s for a split second, and the latter’s smile noticeably drops.
“Yep. Well, you’ve already met Izuku, but this is Uraraka, and this is Iida,” you introduce.
“Hello!” Uraraka beams.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Iida nods.
“So, you’re all in Class 1-A. I heard a rumor that you guys did some kind of weird test yesterday. And that someone was almost expelled,” Monoma frowns. “Is that true?”
“Our teacher tricked us,” you sigh. “It was honestly pretty scary. But no, nobody got expelled. Apparently, he just wanted to push us to our limits and see how well we could do. We were evaluated solely based on our Quirks. It was like those physical tests we used to do in middle school, but this time, using Quirks was allowed. Which was… kind of challenging for me.”
“Ah, right. Because your powers rely on other people, like mine.” Monoma scrunches up his nose, looking somewhat offended. “Well, not that you’ll ever tell me how it actually works. You just love keeping secrets.”
“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” you say, letting out a humorless chuckle—which doesn’t go unnoticed.
Monoma frowns. He wonders if he’s reading into things too much, but sometimes, it really seems like you don’t like your own Quirk. Just based on the way you talk about it, with such tedium and visible reluctance. It’s strange. Being able to control others is a powerful ability for a hero. What’s there not to be proud of?
“Well, if I was there, I definitely would’ve scored higher than anyone else,” Monoma proudly states.
Honestly, he’s probably right about that. Being able to copy others’ Quirks would have been perfect for the Apprehension Test. He could’ve alternated between the most suitable abilities for each trial. His Quirk is similar to yours in the sense that he needs someone else present in order for it to work, but the difference between your Quirks’ practicalities may as well be night and day.
As shameful as it is, you’re jealous of him. Jealous of pretty much everyone, really. Jealous of those who aren’t stuck with a Quirk as awful as yours.
You force a smile. “That’s nice, Monoma.”
“Hey, am I imagining it, or did that sound kind of patronizing?”
“You’re imagining it.”
“Well, whatever,” he snorts. “Anyway, come say hi to my classmates. I want to introduce you to some of them. We’re sitting at that table over there.”
He points off into the distance. You spot a few students, like a boy whose entire body appears to be encased in silver—or is metal? There’s also a girl with orange hair pulled into a high side ponytail, and a dark-haired boy wearing a headband.
“Oh, sure,” you say. “I wouldn’t mind meeting them.”
You slowly stand up, but almost immediately, a hand latches onto your wrist.
Izuku is staring at you, green eyes disturbingly wide. “[Name]? You’re… leaving?”
“Just for a bit. I’m leaving my food here. I’ll go say hi to everyone and be right back,” you reassure.
You try to walk away, but his grip remains firm. Is he worried that you’ll spend your lunchtime with the Class 1-B students instead? Of course you wouldn’t do that. You’re only going to be gone for a few minutes, at most.
…isn’t he overreacting a bit?
“Izuku,” you laugh, finally managing to pull away from him, with a forceful tug. “I’ll seriously be right back. Don’t worry. I would never ditch you. Do you want to come with me and say hi to them too?”
“No… it’s fine.”
You’re relieved to see him smiling again. Clearly, you must have been worried for nothing. He’s used to always having you around. It’s only ever been the two of you eating together at lunch, practically every single day for the past several years. He just needs to get used to a little change, that’s all.
You follow Monoma over to the table where his classmates are seated, and even though you don’t look back over your shoulder as you walk, Monoma sure does. And in doing so, he inadvertently meets Izuku’s gaze.
As always, it’s unsettling.
A Battle Trial. It turns out that’s what you’ll be doing this afternoon. All Might had you all change into your hero costumes and meet up outside, where he promptly announced that you’ll be going head-to-head against your classmates.
I might have a chance.
Unlike with the Apprehension Test, maybe you’ll actually prove yourself this time. Your Quirk is best suited to incapacitating others, or at the very least, briefly hindering their movements. Not that you want to use your powers in front of all these people watching, but you always knew you wouldn’t be able to hide them forever. It was only a matter of time before everyone found out. For now, you need to push your shame aside and try to win .
“In the interest of fairness, your teammates and opponents will be randomly chosen,” All Might announces. “Now! Let’s draw lots to see who ends up with who!”
Luck has never really favored you. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. Your luck is absolutely abysmal , to the point that you wonder if it might be a curse. Which is why you don’t have high hopes. You suspect you’ll probably be partnered up with a total stranger. It’s certainly not like you’ll be fortunate enough to end up on the same team as Izuku.
…right?
“Whoa!” Izuku exclaims, grinning ear-to-ear. “I can’t believe we get to be together!”
You grin back at him. Look at that. Something actually went your way for once. It’ll be much easier to strategize with someone you know, not to mention that you have full faith in Izuku’s strength and resourcefulness. You trust him. If there’s anyone who can help you achieve victory, without a doubt, it’s him .
Unfortunately, as is so often the case, you’re not allowed to be optimistic for very long.
Moments later, you discover who your opponent is.
Katsuki is glaring at the both of you with such intensity, such hatred, that you unknowingly take a step backwards. Izuku looks every bit as shaken up, if not more . Being matched up against him is the worst possible outcome. Whatever confidence you had just moments ago has completely dissipated, into nothingness.
The outcome of this trial won’t make a difference. No matter what happens, there’s just no way to make both of them happy. There’s never been a way.
You are fighting a losing battle.
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The first time you met Manjiro Sano, you had no idea who he was.
Well, correction: you knew he was someone. The guy had swagger, an aura of danger, white hair that looked too pretty for his attitude, and an expression like the world bored him to death.
What you didn’t know was that he was that Manjiro Sano. Bonten’s leader. Japan’s most dangerous crime boss. Someone who could literally blink and make people disappear.
And you? You were a barista. Working the morning shift, half-asleep, armed with nothing but caffeine and sarcasm.
So when the man strutted in, cut the entire line, and leaned against the counter with an arrogant tilt of his head—you didn’t even flinch.
"You gonna pay for that coffee? Or are you just here to stand around and look mysterious?"
The room went dead silent.
You didn’t notice the flinch from the guy in the suit behind him. Or how the woman next to you suddenly ducked.
Mikey, however, blinked.
His head tilted. Just slightly. He looked you over. And for the first time in years, his lips twitched.
"What if I like standing around?"
You squinted. "Then stand over there. After you pay."
He paid. Silently. Didn’t say another word. But he came back the next day. And the next. And the one after that.
Sometimes he ordered the same drink. Sometimes he just stared at you, sat in a booth, arms crossed, like you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.
You ignored him. Mostly. Gave him nicknames like "pouty gremlin" or "white-haired menace" under your breath.
Until one day, you saw him again. Not in the café. Not in his fancy coat.
He was bleeding.
It was a rainy night, and you were walking home when you found him slouched in an alley, breathing heavy, eyes sharp even through the pain.
"Oh my god—are you okay?"
He looked up. Recognized you. Still tried to play it cool.
"It's nothing."
"Nothing?! You look like you got run over by a truck. Twice."
You dragged him to your apartment. Cleaned him up. Forced him to sit still.
"You know, for someone who looks like a villain, you bleed like everyone else."
He snorted. "You talk too much."
"And you sulk too much."
He didn’t leave for a while. Slept on your couch. Ate your instant ramen. Watched movies with a permanent scowl, until he started actually laughing.
And one day, out of nowhere, he just—
"You’re mine now."
You looked up from your cereal. "Huh?"
Mikey didn’t even blink. "You’re mine. Don’t make me repeat it."
"Is that your version of a proposal or a threat?"
"Yes."
And somehow, from that moment on, he just... never left.
The Bonten execs were horrified. Some were in denial. Sanzu needed a week to recover.
But Mikey? Mikey was obsessed. Protective. Clingy.
He dragged you into his world, but made sure you were untouchable.
The first time someone called you "Mrs. Sano," you almost spit out your drink.
But Mikey just nodded proudly. Arm around your waist. Dead serious.
Yandere who breaks into your home and just won't leave.
Tw. Stalking, Yandere, nsfw themes, blackmail
You came back one day from work, tired as hell, only to find some strange man sitting on your couch with some boxes scattered around him. You threatened to call the cops, to scream and get him out, but he remained strangely calm if not a little boyishly eager.
"H-heh, I knew you'd be kind of upset. Don't worry, I already paid your rent for the next few months. T-took a bit of time to scrape together, but you're worth it babe."
When you then persisted on throwing him out, he simply took out a folder with shaking hands and showed you a mile wide stack of compromising photos that he'd somehow taken while you were completely unaware.
"Don't worry. I won't release them unless you make me."
So now you lived with your stalker now turned roommate.
It was strange. You couldn't kick him out, so you were forced to tolerate him. At first, you thought you could just wait until he left so you could hastily change the locks, but he just never left. He worked on his computer saying he had a remote job, and all of the groceries were delivered to the door. You didn't even have a chance to try and stop him.
He would creep his way into your bed at night, cook you breakfast, and act like nothing was wrong.
Yandere who likes to take photos of you openly now.
He snaps his camera at you while you brush your teeth or put on shoes. Every angle of you has been painstakingly catalogued and printed out in the albums now scattered on every table. He especially liked having pictures of the two of you together.
"Hehe, I used to have to edit myself in..."
You really didn't like mulling over what that could've possibly meant, so you just chose to gloss over it.
Yandere who likes to bathe and pamper you. It's so domestic that it's almost sickening. He makes homemade soaps to lather your skin in, and he's not half bad at making scrubs either. He learns how to do your hair in every style you like, and if you like getting your nails done, he learns that too. You asked him if it was to help save you money, but his reply was... less than ideal.
"I just don't want anyone else to touch you," He said sheepishly as he stashed the strands of your hair to use for god knows what.
Yandere who doesn't stop you from going out and living your life, but the second you get home, he's all over you. he's like your second skin, and even though you try to push him off, he just keeps nuzzling into your neck and practically humping your leg.
"C'mon! I was so good today... I cleaned and everything! At least kiss me!"
He becomes more and more comfortable in your apartment, and you slowly start to live with it as well. After all, a clean home, good food, rent paid and he pampers you like crazy: It's not exactly the worst deal in the world. Plus, he hasn't actually made any moves on you yet. No, most days he sits there smiling at you with a dopey grin and an obvious, untouched bulge in his sweatpants. He never touches himself around you, so at least he had the decency to not do that.
All in all, he's not the worst thing that could've broken into your home. Sure, it's not what you'd ever have wanted, but your starting to grow fond of this strange intruder. After all, it's hard to not be just a little bit endeared when he's snuggling up close and seeking your warmth like it was the only thing on the planet that mattered.
You certainly love your poor himbo!vampire lover, but he’s definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Like all vampires, his saliva has healing properties so his victims don’t bleed out during his feedings. Because of this, he’s taken to freaking out when you get injured and immediately licking the wound, planting a soft kiss on it after.
He smells your blood, and he gets nervous. The man adores you, he’d be lost if you died!
So when you woke up to the soft ache in your cunt being combated by the pleasure of your boyfriend sucking on your clit, you were quite confused.
As you rubbed your sleepy eyes, you heard your boyfriend choking on his sobs, tears rolling down his pale cheeks as his hands held onto your thighs.
“Y-you’re gonna be okay, angel. Going to… going to make it better…” he blubbered, your blood dripping down his chin before he moved back to your aching cunt.
“Love…”
He sniffled as you reached out a hand to cup his cheek, gently swiping your blood from his lip. “I’m not injured, I’m just on my period.”
Your lover blinked, his eyes going wide, and you could tell if he could blush his cheeks would be a bright red with embarrassment.
“O-oh…”
As he pulled away, you grabbed him by the hair and guided his lips back to your pussy. “But you’re still helping, sweet thing.”
His eyes softened and he settled back down between your thighs, his cheek resting against your belly as he softly nuzzled against it. “Then I’ll take care of you… I’ll always take care of you, my angel…”
So you sat back and relaxed as he fed, making sure to gently push you over the edge and ease your pain.
Being a livestock for a vampire has never sounded good until you were kidnapped by a vampire as his spouse.
TW: Yandere, NSFW, SH, and massacre
The vampire was intrigued by the puny human he ran into when he was walking around the river in the morning, testing his new potion and spell that would keep him immune to sunlight.
What was once a plan to kidnap you as one of his livestock turned into a moment where you had to nurse him because he suddenly dropped his whole weight onto you, face blistered from the sunlight.
“You are awake now.”
Your voice stirred him awake more than ever. His once droopy eyes were wide opened in shock. He didn't remember having anyone in his manor.
Your eyes were locked with his Emerald ones and he defensively squinted his eyes. You raised both of your hands, “You passed out right behind me and I had to drag you all the way from the riverbank to my cottage.”
The curtain was drawn close suspiciously, not allowing any light to filter inside the bedroom. Did you know he was a vampire already?
“Was it an allergic reaction?”
“Huh?” he asked, baffled.
“Your face was blistered because it was the only part of you that was exposed. Nonetheless, you healed really fast so there was no need for any extensive care from my herbs. You were only out for a day.”
He started to feel his face, aside from patches here and there, there was nothing wrong with it.
“Ah yes, let me get the hand mirror for you—”
Just before you could stand up, his hand grabbed yours and held you on the spot immediately. If you were to realize he had no reflection.
“Can you help me stand and get me to the kitchen instead? I'm quite thirsty since I haven't drunk in a day.”
You stared at his eyes and glanced at his pale hand. It took you seconds before you agreed to him and supported him by slinging his arm over your shoulder and walked toward the kitchen downstairs.
His eyes scanned through your cottage, it was mainly dominated by white, ornaments, furniture, trinkets, and even flowers.
“You must have really loved white, considering even having flowers that can't grow in this land.” Yulian glanced at the potted flowers. Lilies of the Valley, daisies, baby’s breath, and lilies.
At that, you only hummed and sat him down on one of the chairs. You placed a cup of water for him and returned to the sink to prepare him what he assumed to be breakfast, judging from how bright it was outside the window.
Mindlessly staring into the window, he accidentally hissed from the sunlight reaching his bare-handed hand, alerting you of his discomfort.
“Oh dear, what happened?”
Yulian flinched at the endearment term you spoke before he regained his composure.
“Nothing, I just accidentally bit my tongue.” he lied as he tried to cover his blistered hand. You nodded and turned your focus back to the breakfast you were preparing.
“Are you allergic to dairies?” you asked him.
“No.”
“Thought you were one unlucky man, it seems like you are not immune to light or something like an albino. I'm assuming Your skin is very sensitive to light since you were so covered.”
He only mumbled a few incoherent words before you snapped him out of his trance with a clap of your hands, “So what's your name dear?”
“Alan-” instinctively, the man shut his mouth and took a few seconds of silence before answering you.
“Yulian. My name is Yulian.”
“Nice to meet you,” you served him a plate of sandwiches, “I’m the local physician here, you’ll be staying here with me for rehabilitation.”
Yulian raised both of his eyebrows, “But I am not wounded terribly in any way.”
“Perhaps not, but this is how I work. Could it be that you are not a local?”
Yulian shook his head.
“Where’s your house? Do you need to go back home to your family immediately? I can stay in your place for a few days to make sure there are no more anomalies.”
Yulian frowned, what a persistent human. It was almost annoying, breaching people’s boundaries just to sate their own curiosities. He could read you that much.
But he agreed to stay in your cottage nonetheless.
𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.
But you had always been attentive, drawing the curtain for him when he walked out of his bedroom. Offering to hold the umbrella for him when he wanted to walk.
What was once a plain bedroom was slowly adorned by flowers, mainly baby’s breath.
The food you made or bought was also not bad. They were decent for a human but not a vampire. Sometimes he had to mask his distaste to any food that consisted of onions.
It was not easy to sneak out of the cottage since you were sometimes awake and roamed around the cottage.
But it was a rather peaceful life. There was bustling sounds and noises from the cottage, unlike his dead and dark manor.
It was bright in your cottage but it didn't hurt him in the slightest bit. Was it because it was a ‘White House’?
𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔.
If there was something he disliked from you then it had to be your silver ring. Whenever you touched him with your hand ring, you would sometimes graze his skin with your ring.
He tried not to hiss but there were occasions when it was unbearable, just like when you were compressing him and felt his temperature.
Unlike in a few cases where he could hide his blisters, it was visible that his forehead was bleeding from the contact.
It was alarming for both of you, paranoia and fear downed him as he suspected you were testing him while shock and suspicion flashed onto your face.
There was a rift but Yulian was a great reader, he knew you did not mean anything bad and decided to lie his way out again. Alas, it's harder this time.
Another thing he didn't like about you was how you could be ignoring him for a whole day sometimes. It could be something interesting that got your whole attention or another patient coming.
Perhaps he was simply unamused by the idea of a lesser being taking away your attention from him.
𝑬𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔.
You often strolled around the riverbank and forest, collecting herbs and wildflowers, sometimes walking down toward the village to buy daily necessities.
You didn't allow him to follow you at first, making him have to secretly follow you out of boredom and partial curiosity.
But upon week later, Yulian started to show you his interest in going out with you. It took him lots of convincing that he wouldn't fall sick from this and you reluctantly agreed to it.
For the first time, he could finally walk side by side with you instead of following you from the dark. It almost felt like his still heart was beating from excitement.
Apparently, all the villagers recognized you as a talented physician. They were all friendly to you and would do anything to help you as well.
It made something within him sting. Was it envy that he wasn't treated just as nice?
𝑽𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚’𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉.
Sometimes the two of you would sing under the moonlight as a pastime. Sometimes you would come to his bedroom at night and converse with him until he pretended to fall asleep.
Sometimes you would diagnose him. Sometimes you would tell him stories of your life. Sometimes you would ask him questions about his life. Sometimes you would cry in your bedroom.
He couldn't help but wonder what sorrowed your frail heart.
Sometimes he would enter your bedroom and observe your patterned breathing while you were asleep. It was almost as if the role was reversed. He was observing you out of curiosity and perhaps, adoration.
A human’s lifespan is as short as a stick. Not only couldn't they live long, but they were also vulnerable to almost everything.
Yulian brought his hand to cup your cheek, squeezing it just a bit before his fingers traced down toward your neck, feeling your jugular vein pulsating in rhythm with your heart. You were alive but he wasn't. You were loved but he wasn't. You were adored but he wasn't.
Was it envy that brought his fangs close to your neck? Was he envious of your life? Or was he simply being unreasonable?
You stirred awake from your sleep, eyes adjusting to the moonlight that lit your bedroom. No one was in sight and the water you placed on your nightstand remained warm despite the chilling temperature.
Perhaps the envy in him was never directed at you.
The only reason why Yulian was still resting in your cottage was because of his self-sabotaging. You were a physician and he was a patient, unless he had a logical reason to stay in your cottage then he had to excuse himself.
It started with how Yulian started to fake food poisoning, burn himself from the sunlight, fake an anemic, and wound himself with the silver ornaments you had in the cottage.
But Yulian understood it was only a matter of time before your dense self realized that something was wrong and chased him out of your cottage.
Would you scream at him in fury, fear, or disappointment? He thought he was used to rejection already but something changed within him with the time spent living with you.
And he didn't want to betray your trust. You trusted him with your little secret. The secret that you were actually the village's 'Witch'.
Yulian sighed audibly as he walked toward your bedroom, observing it from corner to corner for any anomalies. It had always been a paranoid habit of his. He wanted to make sure nothing dangerous was inside your bedroom or, to be frank, your surroundings.
Yulian walked toward your dressing table and gazed into the mirror. There was not a single reflection of himself, a reminder that he was never supposed to let you live in the first place.
Yet your touch never failed to soothe his stoned heart, it never failed to make him melt under your touch. And your existence did not hunger him in any way unlike the others would.
He had learned to co-exist with you before he realized it, it was too late for him to undo this dependence and bond, let alone feed on you.
Yulian walked out and waited for you to come back from your visit to the local church. As much as he wanted to join you, he couldn't risk getting caught by them.
Hours passed and the sun sank, the moon lit the dark sky and yet not even a single sound of your footsteps approaching the cottage was heard. Yulian dissipated into thin air and teleported to where you were supposed to be but you were nowhere in sight.
The church was eerily silent to human ears but not to an otherworldly being like him. He could hear an ominous chant beneath him. He could smell the sickeningly sweet incense lit beneath him. And he could feel the mark he left on your neck that night beneath him.
The 'Witch' play ends tonight.
-
You woke up in someone's embrace, the night was lit by the moonlight above you yet there was an unbearable heat nearby.
"You are awake now."
His voice stirred you awake more than ever. Your once droopy eyes were wide opened in shock. You didn't remember seeing him.
Your eyes were locked with his Emerald ones and you stared at his eyes. He smiled at you, “You passed out amidst the fire and I had to carry you all the way from the village.”
You looked behind his back and saw a huge fire consume the village, the villagers' cries were audible despite the distance. You clutched his black robe, "Wait, no! The villagers, they need me! I need to save them!"
"May I know why?"
"Because I'm a Witch, the protector of this village!"
Yulian chortled at your remarks before he smirked, "And yet you let an outsider reside in your cottage for months."
All colors were drained from your face, and your heart sank down; "What do you mean?"
Yulian sat you down on one of the rocks and knelt in front of you, his gloved hand brought your hand ring, "Observe this."
He took off his glove and pressed your ring finger to his palm, the skin blistered from the contact and you instinctively pulled away, "What was that?!"
There was a tale of vampires and you wished he would deny it.
"It was troublesome for me having to avoid the mirrors in your cottage and anything that would reflect."
Hand mirror.
"I never really like the dishes you made with onions but I stomach it all because I just couldn't muster the courage to see your sullen face,"
Onions.
"I really hate strolling when the sun is still up because I have to carry an umbrella with me all the time."
Sun.
"Though I must say I don't mind being touched by you with your ring hand because it was worth the pain and trouble."
Silver.
You backed away from him and just before your back could hit the grassy ground, his arm prevented you from tumbling back,
"And I must say, it took me lots of time to properly mark and make you submit to a contract with me."
Contract?
Yulian cradled your confused body into his chest, the warmth you felt was not emitted from his skin but instead, the fire that devoured all the villagers who had been deceiving you.
All of the shock that weighed upon made you succumb to unconsciousness again, mainly from stress and trauma. Yulian frowned at your limp figure as he stood up and continued walking deep into the forest to his manor.
Yulian did not like the hostility that you showed him at all. The ongoing stress and trauma drowned you in the hysteria that would also make you harm yourself. It pained him that he was one of the causes of your hysteria, a hypothetical scenario would sometimes flash across his mind. What if he had not appeared in your life? Then perhaps your heart wouldn't sorrow to this extent.
Yulian tried his best to help you adapt. The once dark and grim manor slowly turned white. The exteriors and interiors were white before you could remember how it originally looked like. Flowers were blooming in the garden to your liking and a potted white flowers near you for you to adore.
While Yulian had the patience to make you warm up to him and face the reality of your life, he did not have the heart to see you suffer for so long. And as much as he wanted to change you into a vampire just like him, he'd rather not have it done unwillingly.
But time was not so kind for your age. The longer he delayed it, the older and frailer you would be.
Alas, luck was on his side when he secluded himself in his room for a long time for the first time you came here. He didn't expect you to find his presence soothing for you.
It appeared that all his efforts had made you think that his action of kidnapping you was just an attempt to save you from the villagers who tricked you into thinking that you were a 'Witch'.
You looked for him, calmly at first then frantically when you suffered from a panic attack. He didn't mean to test you but he knew well deep inside he was hurting you.
Even for a selfish and cold-blooded creature like him, he had to steel his heart before he could see you again. Everything he was feeling after he met you was his first. You brought colors to his monochrome life. You taught him that the smell of a morning was calming. You taught him how to spend his time with pastimes.
He could not find it in his heart to leave your side. It was his first time to feel alive and he was greedy, wanting more of it.
You stood in front of his chamber, waiting for him to open his door instead of avoiding you altogether.
--
"The servants took great care of you while I was away right, dear?"
Yulian never found the charm in terms of endearment, but whenever you called him 'dear', incomprehensible emotion and feeling surged into him. He still remembered the day you first called him that, it was foreign and weird to him but he didn't find it that bad at all.
You squirmed under his touch, squeezing yourself closer and deeper into his embrace while your hands clenched on the bedsheet. That was not the only thing you were clenching though, for his fingers were knuckle deep inside you.
You tried to form a coherent answer but what came out was simply a blubbering. Tears dripped down from your cheek from the way he curled his fingers, feeling your spot until your toes were curled.
You didn't know that even vampires could feel this much stimulation from sex. You assumed they just reproduced while feeling only half of the pleasure humans could have because of how cold-blooded they were.
You thought they only did it out of curiosity or memories of their past lives, or perhaps from the mood itself instead of doing it for pleasure as well.
Yulian brought his lip to yours, nibbling your lower lip why urging you to open your mouth, allowing his tongue to roam inside you while his fingers did not stop even one bit, drawing multiple orgasms out of you.
You really loved every bit of the man who once tried to kill you. The way his soft fangs felt your skin, pricking it playfully instead of sinking it deep inside your jugular vein and killing you on the spot.
You loved it when he caressed your cheek, you loved how gentle he was when he wiped the tears from your eyelashes.
You loved it when he was inside of you, you loved it when he knew every inch of your body so well to the point he could make you cry out of pleasure effortlessly.
You loved to see his cute face from how fast he came inside you but he never stopped his hip. You loved it when he kissed your face. You loved it when he intertwined both of your hands.
You loved it when he made your insides feel warm and full.
You loved him for severing the illusion of the 'Witch' inside of you.
It was undeniable that Yuliad had saved you from the villagers' torturing you for accepting an outsider into your cottage for the first time.
You were simply curious of his condition and yet you were punished terribly for not keeping the said tradition.
Yulian knew there was never a tradition, it simply was a doctrine for you who was a prodigy of a physician to save everyone from your village.
You were exiled deep in the forest so that you couldn't learn the life beyond the forest and village.
Yulian knew just as much when he first joined you on your stroll to the village. Everyone treated you differently as though you were a deity and you considered it to be something normal.
It looked normal to him considering they believed in the 'Witch' but Yulian knew better. You were just a human and all of these were just a doctrine from the church. To ensure the prodigy never left the village and was forever loyal to the church.
Spies were sent and he knew the church had probably noticed him as not only a weird outsider but also a vampire. It was unfortunate of you to be dragged into the church's underground and interrogated, forced to drag him to the church and had him staked to death. But you were persistent, you didn't trust them.
Just before Yulian was about to save you, you made a grave mistake of swearing on your name to make a promise with the devil to save you and your companion which was him. He knew you had always been so kind but wasn't that sort of naivety a little bit too much for a stranger like him? Perhaps this was the reason why the church wanted to force a much stronger doctrine onto you.
Their mistake was to not sense the danger that was him earlier.
Your flaw was that you were too kind-hearted.
It gave him more reasons to seclude you from the world beyond the White House. His paranoia and obsession growing stronger with each day never seemed to unnerve you who were just a bright soul with a kind heart. A kind heart that was a contrast to his stoned heart.
That alone justified his paranoia of losing you. Surely you understood him right?
Author's Note: Thank you for reading this half-hearted work, I was so motivated to write a damn vampire fic but got writer's block mid-way smh. Happy 7th Anniversary to LIfE Project and 5k to this blog!
TW: Mild gore. mentions of blood and death. Established relationship. mild submissive zombie bf
Summary: You have a boyfriend that unfortunately became infected. He's possessive, protective, and very clingy. All he does is grumble and say a few words, but you love him all the same.
WC: 4185
Inspired by character made by nipuni on character.ai (link for the character)
All Chen Ming could see was red. Red, red, red. It dribbles through the crevices of his pale fingers, runs down the stitches of his arms.
There is no taste on his tongue. Instead, there's a feeling of disgust he feels within his conscience--anger towards the aggressor. Still, he continues his assault on the writhing figure under him, just as you stared on in horror at the sight of gore and carnage.
They nearly hurt you, he thinks. He needs you safe.
It's been weeks since the apocalypse hit and the world had been turned upside down in a matter of days.
They nearly hurt you, he thinks. He needs you safe.
It's been weeks since the apocalypse hit and the world had been turned upside down in a matter of days.
It all started with an infection, then leading to the process of decay and undeniable bloodlust towards the fallen victims. Ming was determined to protect you from it all. He had been turned while attempting to escape a hoard with you.
The blackened bite on his leg was a reminder of his inevitable death.
"…" he manages to will his limp limb into wiping at the crimson blood that dotted his lips, dull eyes frantically moving to where you stood to make sure you were there and well.
You're untouched. Unharmed from the danger, for now. With the memories he's retained carried his previous feelings of deep love over to his undead body from when he was human.. it's the least he can do, obsessing over you just the same. Only this time, by tenfold.
Y/N is terrified but you look over your undead boyfriend, checking to see if there were any injuries. While it wouldn't really affect him anymore, you often still took care of his wounds, sewing them up if they were small enough or putting gauze over the bigger ones. "Chen? Are you okay?"
Ming's head tilts to the side slightly at the sound of your voice, snapping him out of his frenzy. As if he'd forgotten about you in the moment of his bloodshed, he's quick in shuffling himself over to you.
His hand reaches out to grip your arm, cold fingers wrapping around your limb like a band. He's checking you over, his eyes scanning everywhere to make sure you weren't hurt in the scuffle.
"I'm fine, baby." You tried reassuring him. You were getting used to the way of things, and while the gore of everything he did still terrified you, you knew it wasn't something that you could change unless there was a cure for all of this.
Ming's tense form somewhat relaxes at the knowledge of your safety. He gently pulls you close, his slender arms circling around your waist as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. His shoulders heave slightly as he takes in your scent, letting out a grumble in his throat in an attempt to soothe the rage flowing within his dead body.
He's silent for a moment, his arms tightening his hold in a possessive manner.
"Come on, we need to finish getting supplies here then we'll go back to our safe house, okay?" you say, gently urging Chen Ming forward as you wanted to gather as much supplies before the sun sets.
He simply hums in understanding, the slight nod of his head as a response. Though he doesn't make the effort to pull away just yet, preferring to keep you close to his form, his fingers tracing over the skin of your back. It's a soothing feeling he relishes in, feeling your heat sink into his corpse.
" .. S'f… Safe." Ming rasps quietly. It's a few words uttered for the day, using his vocal cords and limited ability to form anything more complex than a few short sentences.
You sigh, knowing his protective traits had paired easily with his stubborn personality when he was alive. "Yes, safe. Just the both of us." You reassured.
The grip he has on you tightens at the words. He can't help himself. He's obsessed, possessive. You're his alone. His fingers dig into your flesh and he lets out another low sound from his raspy throat, pulling you in closer until there's hardly any space between your hips. Despite his current undead state, he had the ability to feel, and in this instance his body craves only for you.
You gently place your hands over Ming's where they grip you tightly, feeling the cold intensity of his touch. His fingers loosen slightly at your touch, but his eyes remain fixed on you, a mix of desire and possessiveness swirling within them. He hesitates, torn between his overwhelming need to protect you and the realization that his grip is too tight.
"Chen," you say softly, trying to convey both reassurance and firmness in your tone. "I know you're trying to keep me safe, but you're stronger now. You don't need to hold on so tight."
He can't stop himself. A whine leaves his lungs as his fingers grip into your body even harder than before, not wanting to let you go. You're his.
His. You're his.
" No. Need… Stay… Keep you.. safe."
He mumbles into your ear, his head buried in the crook of your neck as his arms refuse to loosen their tight grip.
As Chen Ming's grip tightens around you, you feel the strength in his undead arms, a stark reminder of his protective nature taken to extremes. His cold touch presses against your warmth, his fingers digging into your flesh with an intensity born of his unyielding need to safeguard you in this harsh, apocalyptic world.
You gently stroke his hair, trying to soothe the turbulent emotions swirling within him. "Chen, I know you want to keep me safe," you murmur softly, your voice a gentle reassurance amidst the turmoil. "And you do. You always do. But I need you to loosen your grip a little. You're hurting me."
Ming's hold tightens momentarily in response, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. His undead body reacts instinctively, possessively, unable to fully grasp the difference between protection and possession in this new existence he inhabits.
"I am safe, there's no one here. Why don't you hold my hand? Just hold my hand and follow me." You compared him to the children you took care of before in the daycare you worked at. Most times, redirecting his attention to something else would help or providing other ways he can do as he wants. Gentle parenting.
" .. Hold. Hand."
That seems to do it. He releases his tight grip around your form and instead takes your hand into his. The slender fingers intertwine with yours as he follows behind you, not daring to separate from your touch.
"Good boy." (Y/N) took a deep breath in. You start to lead him to the store aisles as you put stuff in the bad, a bit hard with only one hand but you got by. Once every thing is done, you lead him back to the entrance and out. "Stay close and if you see someone, tell me first." you warned.
He follows quietly behind you, his hand still securely clasped in your own as you continue to lead him around. He keeps vigilant, staring in every corner and shadowed area. He's tense, but he keeps his pace close to you.
Every now and then he'd gently squeeze your hand, reminding him that you're still there. When you leave the building, Ming once again positions himself beside you, following close to your side as a silent guard.
" .. S'a.. Safe.." He repeats, keeping his dark gaze trained on your surroundings.
"Yes, we're going back to the safe house." There are a few stragglers around but they leave you be as long as you're with him. His scent covers yours and you're thankful for it. Squeezing his hand, you lead him down the streets. Fortunately, the bunker basement you found is only several blocks away. 30 minutes of walking but relatively close compared to any other store.
Throughout the relatively short walk back, Ming keeps a careful eye about their surroundings.
He's a silent, yet protective presence, not uttering a word as he stuck beside you. The sight of stragglers would send a growl from his throat, his grip on your hand tightening in a possessive manner, almost as if he's letting the zombies know that you're his.
Finally, the bunker comes into view, a low hum leaving his lips at the sight of their safe haven.
You lead him to the entrance and release his hand to open the door. It's a heavy metal door leading underground, so you strain with all your strength to push it open. Once it's open, you guide him inside first, then close it securely behind you.
Despite wanting to help you open the door, he's forced to release your hand, instead opting to wait patiently as you lead him down into the safehouse.
Once the door shuts behind the two of you, he immediately takes your hand in his again. It's an action of comfort and possessiveness, making sure to pull you close to his side as the two of you make your way deeper down into the bunker.
You're used to him by now and continue walking further inside until you spot the warm lights of the bunker room. Despite the circumstances, it's surprisingly cozy. One corner of the room is neatly stocked with all the supplies you need: clothes, food for yourself, medical supplies, and whatever else you've managed to scavenge. The soft, warm glow emanates from some fairy lights you found and hooked up to a solar panel on the roof of the two-story house. This bunker has been your sanctuary for weeks now.
You set the bags down near the entrance, making a mental note to sort through them later. Leading the two of you to your makeshift bed, you gesture towards the mattress on the ground layered with blankets and pillows. The heater consumes too much power, so you've opted to keep it off, relying instead on the warmth of the covers or the small grill stove you found at the store.
Following you down into the makeshift room, his dark gaze takes in the surroundings as you settle down. He doesn't spend much time admiring the furnishings, preferring to opt for clinging to your side as you go about sorting the bags.
When you finally settle down on the bed, he's quick to situate himself at your side. His form is pressed close against you, his head burying itself into your shoulder as he continues to keep a tight grip on your hand.
The room is quiet other than the sound of his ragged breath, low and raspy.
A week into his infection, you noticed that Chen Ming's aggression had intensified, though thankfully never directed towards you. Even after ensuring both your safety, he never quite settles until you're both in bed, nestled close together. Over time, you've grown accustomed to his cold touch, finding it oddly comforting during the quiet, warm nights in the bunker.
With one hand clasped in his, you lay down and gently pull him towards you, allowing him to settle beside you as he likes. His presence, though changed by infection, still brings a sense of closeness and security amidst the chaos of the world outside.
The moment he's allowed to pull you close, he's quick in doing so. His cold, stiff body curls around you as he buries his head against the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you to hold you there.
The feeling of your heat against his freezing skin is something he's found comfort in ever since he's turned. It's a strange, yet welcomed feeling. The need for your touch is a drive that he can't ignore, needing to feel you at all times.
His breathing is low and ragged, cold lips gently brushing against your skin as he holds himself against you.
-----
As you start to stir awake, the grip around you tightens immediately. Even in his dead sleep, he can feel you moving, and his body automatically responds, tightening his hold around you in an attempt to keep you there. He lets out a grumble, pulling you flush against his body as he subconsciously nuzzles his head against the crook of your neck.
"Morning, my love. You okay?"
When you speak to him in the morning, his form stirs slightly. He gently nuzzles his head against the crook of your neck, letting out a low sound in response.
" .. Mm.. Morning.." he rasps quietly, his arms holding you tightly against his body. His grip is firm, not giving you an inch of space to move without his permission.
"Good boy. Go and get some meat in the freezer for you." It was mostly meat that you find around. Either from the ones he killed or fresh ones you find during scavenging. You understood at some point that having regular meals for him calms him down, maybe lessens how aggressive he is with others. So you let him eat as much as possible. He did let you know that fresh is tastier. You shiver at the thought.
A low sound leaves his lips when you praise him. Despite being a zombie, he reacts the same to your affection. He releases you and allows you to move, albeit only for a moment as he trails after you like a lost puppy. When you mention the idea of eating, the dead man lets out an excited sound. His dark gaze is trained on you while he waits for your permission to leave to get food.
"Go ahead. I'll get some canned goods in the pantry for me. Please eat in the freezer." Seeing a disembodied arm didn't really do well for your appetite, so as much as possible, You ask him to eat where you don't see him.
He nods to your words, clearly happy that he's allowed to eat. His eyes are trained on you, watching as you move to get food for yourself. When you mention him feeding in the freezer, he lets out a grumble in agreement. Although clearly wanting to stay close to you, he knows that you don't like the sight of him eating.
A grumble leaves his lips as he nods in response, knowing that you're looking out for him. With that, he's quick to turn and make his way to the freezer on the other side of the basement. He disappears into the shadows, leaving you alone as he gets his meal.
Several minutes later, both of you are done eating. The good thing with frozen meat is that it doesn't leave him as messy. After helping him change some clothes from earlier, you station yourself at a table to update the town map you have.
As he finishes eating, he steps out of the freezer and returns to your side. His gaze is trained on you, watching as you sit down to update the town map. Standing close to your side, he can't help but let his fingers gently rest on your arm, needing the comfort of your touch in his undead body. His gaze glances down to the map that you're working on, curiosity slightly filling him as he studies it with you.
"The grocery store is going to help for several months as long as there aren't any looters. That's why it's best to keep our neighbors alive." By neighbors, you meant the other undead people. "But if we're thinking long term, we may need to move someday. Or find a way to get fresh food. Even you need to eat." You sigh as you stress over planning. Overthinking has always been your problem. "You don't decay, but human bodies do. And you can't feed on the neighbors. We need them."
He listens to you speak, his dark eyes focused on the map as you point out the locations of the nearest food source. He seems to be taking in all of the information that you're saying, his grip on your arm tightening slightly as you continue to speak. When you mention that he needs to eat, his gaze flicks over to you, almost as if he's silently agreeing with you. He knows how important it is to have fresh food. Yet he also knows that he can't feed on the neighbors. He lets out a grumble at that thought, not wanting to feed on anyone but you.
I perk up at his grumbling. "You trying to say something, hun?"
A grumble leaves his lips as his dark eyes flick up to meet your gaze. His expression is one of irritation at the thought of not being allowed to feed on anyone but you.
" .. Can't.. feed.." he rasps quietly, his grip on your arm tightening a bit as his undead body presses closer to you. " .. Need.. fresh.."
"It's not like you eat me. Unless that's your plan?"
His form tenses slightly at your words, the thought of feeding on you clearly not to his liking.
You chuckle but can't help the feeling of relief at the words. Keeping him fed is a priority because despite everything, you're not sure if he'd keep to his word if he's been starved for long. His gaze shifts down to you, his dark eyes studying your expression as you laugh and feel relief. He can tell that you're relieved at his response and maybe even a little worried that he'd go back on his word. He can't help but feel a pang of guilt at the thought. He doesn't want you to be scared of him. He wants you to trust him. His hands gently tighten his grip on your arm, as if silently reassuring you that he wouldn't feed on you.
Suddenly, loud bangs come from the door, making you jump. You stare at it as it bangs against the barricades we made. Groans and moans come from outside. At the loud bangs and groans from the basement door, Ming immediately tenses. He's instantly on guard, his body positioning itself in front of you in a protective manner. His gaze is locked onto the door, his undead body ready to defend you at a moment's notice.
" .. Zombies.." he rasps quietly, his hands gripping your arm tightly as he keeps himself between you and the potential threat.
"It's just the neighbors, hun. Leave them be, and let's keep quiet. They'll leave soon." You hold his hand, making sure he doesn't do anything rash, and whisper to him. Soon enough, shuffling comes from the doors signaling that the zombies left.
His form relaxes even further at your words, a low hum leaving his lips. He knows that you wouldn't lie to him. If you say everything is safe, then it's safe. His gaze flicks back to the door for a moment, his hand holding yours in a firm grip as he continues to keep himself positioned between you and the door.
" .. Safe," he repeats quietly, as if he's reassuring himself.
His gaze shifts back to you as you speak, listening intently to your words. He's still in a somewhat state of alert, his undead body on edge from the potential threat outside. When you mention the idea of staying indoors for a few days, his expression turns to a quiet grumble. He clearly doesn't like the idea of being stuck inside and not being able to get fresh food. Yet, he knows it's necessary. He nods quietly in response to your question. " .. Eat.. frozen.." he rasps slowly.
"Good boy. Just let me know if you need to go outside, okay?"
He lets out a hum, clearly pleased with your words. His dark gaze remains locked onto you as you speak, his undead body relaxing a bit. He nods in response to your words, his hand giving yours a gentle squeeze. " .. Tell.. you. If need.. outside," he rasps quietly, agreeing to your condition.
He lets out a low hum when you smile at him, his dark gaze lingering on you for a few more seconds before he turns to get the radio. He knows the basement like the back of his hand, able to navigate through the room in a few seconds before grabbing the radio and returning to your side.
Got it.
" .. Got it." He rasps out quietly as he hands the radio over to you, his gaze still locked onto you.
"Thanks." You put the radio on a low volume and try to find an open channel. There are still some that keep playing music, more often on a loop, and others that talk about sanctuaries.
He stands beside you, watching as you turn on the radio and adjust the volume to a low setting. His dark gaze is fixed on the radio, listening intently to the sound coming from it.
The faint sound of music and the talk of sanctuaries fills the room quietly. His undead body is positioned in front of you, his hands occasionally fidgeting by his sides.
"Wanna sit down?"
At your question, his gaze shifts from the radio back to you. He tilts his head gently, pausing for a moment before giving a small nod.
" .. Sit." He rasps quietly in response, his undead body moving to sit down next to you.
A channel opens up about the military sanctuaries in the city. A few miles drive from here. You take a peek at it from time to time to see if it changes, and every other day it does. It's a last resort. It's not something you can go to for now with Chen Ming in mind, but it doesn't hurt to note it down.
He sits next to you, watching as you flip through the channels of the radio. He can tell that you're jotting down important information in your mind and noting it down on the map.
When the radio mentions the military sanctuaries in the city, his gaze shifts towards the radio. His dark eyes focused on the sound of the news, silently listening to the information.
"Remember when you joked about going to the military? I was close to smacking you in the head."
His expression changes to a subtle sheepish look as you mention his old joke. A low hum leaves his lips as he nods in response, remembering the time when he had joked about going to the military.
"Maybe I should have let you go. It might mean we'd be there now." You said while thinking that on the other hand, we both could be dead. Many military men died to the virus, some even wander in town.
He watches you closely as you speak, his dark gaze locked onto your expression. He can tell that you're thinking deeply about the past, thinking about what could have been.
When you mention that you should have let him go, he lets out a grumble. He shakes his undead head slightly, not liking the idea of being apart from you.
His hand reaches out gently to grasp your arm, his grip firm as he pulls you closer to him. He doesn't want to think about that. He doesn't want to think about a life without you. You lean your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arm around his.
He lets out a low hum as you lean your head on his shoulder, his undead body shifting slightly to accommodate your closeness. His dark eyes glance down to you, his gaze fixed on your every movement.
When you wrap your arm around his, he gently returns the gesture. His arm pulls you closer to him, his hand tightening its grip on you, almost as if he’s afraid to let you go.
"Can't think of being without you though. You're always there for me and I probably won't survive without you."
He listens to your words quietly, his gaze still fixed on you. A low rumble sounds from his chest as he listens to your confession. Your words bring a pang of guilt to the undead man.
When you mention that you can’t think of being without him and probably wouldn’t survive without him, his grip on you tightens. He pulls you even closer to him, his undead body almost molding against your own.
" .. Always.. be with you." He rasps quietly, his dark eyes never leaving you.
"Always be with you too."
He hums at your words, his undead body practically enveloping yours in his embrace. His grip on you is firm, yet gentle at the same time, almost as if he's holding something precious.
When you say that you’ll always be with him too, he lets out a low whine, his undead body shuddering a bit as if your words affected him deeply. He can’t help but cling to you tightly, needing your touch and your presence.
♡ TW: nsfw implication, enemies to lovers, kinda bitchy reader,
♡ FEM reader
Thinking about the poor college boy who’s struggling to get used to dorm life and his loud neighbor who isn’t making matters any better.
He has never been shy about telling someone off. People should have the common decency not to blast their infernal music so loud that the entire dorm shakes. And you, whoever you may be, are no exception—he thinks while pounding on your door with his fist. Fuck knows if you can even hear him over your speakers.
But lo and behold and despite all odds, you open up.
“Excuse me, can you turn it down?” His words might be polite, but his voice is anything but—glaring down at you… who quickly turned out to be a girl…
Yeah, definitely not the idiot ass-hat with the shitty body odor he was expecting. But a pretty girl in a short tank top without a bra and booty shorts so tight and short he would think you’d bought them ten years ago.
“It’s eight?” You raise your brow at him, face otherwise dull.
Okay, so you weren't what he was expecting. And sure, it might make his throat a little tight, among other things. But still, he not going to let it change anything.
“Yeah, I’m tryna study.”
That was a lie. He was actually about to go to bed. But he wasn’t about to tell you that. Judging by the way you were looking at him, he’d say you’d just laugh and slam the door in his face. Maybe even turn the volume up to spite him.
Not that telling you he was studying was any better.
“There’s something called a library for that sorta thing,” you drawl.
He’s right—you’re the sardonic type. There’s usually no use fighting with people like you, but still, he must stand his ground and insist, “Yeah, well, I prefer my room.”
You reply in kind, smiling now with a short excuse for a laugh, “Oh, what do you know, me too.”
You’re a little hard to read. That felt like sarcasm, but it wasn’t all that easy to tell. He’s mostly certain you couldn't care less, but at the same time, you’d humored him this long. So, maybe…
“You’ll turn it down then?”
As expected. You just laugh and shut the door in his face.
He stands there for a moment. You must be blowing your eardrums sitting in there. He thinks about knocking again, maybe dropping some of the politeness this time and demanding you turn it down.
But he ends up going back to his room. He decides then to wait another hour, thinking you might come to your senses despite your poor attitude. But at zero point, do you turn your music down by even a single lousy notch.
Lying in his room, he’s hoping someone else might come by and tell you off. That maybe then you’d listen.
But a couple more minutes later, he realizes he can’t wait for that to happen and decides to test his luck again. Abruptly springing from his bed, he marches over to your room. Doing as he did last time, nearly kicking your door in with his banging.
“Oh my god, dude, what is your problem!?” you bark once seeing him.
And his eye nearly twitches in turn. “My problem? Really? You’re one to talk!”
You gape at him, both glaring at the other.
“It’s eight-thirty. What? Is it your bedtime or something?”
“No. But I would appreciate it if I could hear myself think in my own room!”
“Oh? Well, maybe you should call your mommy and cry about it!”
Again, all you do is slam the door in his face. However, this time, you skip the laugh and settle for a simple yet efficient grimace that lets him know you’ll not be answering the door again.
Several days pass. He caved and invested in a pair of noise-canceling headphones. But still, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep when he wanted. But suppose that wasn’t all your fault. To be honest, he’d probably be struggling either way, with or without your music. It’s not easy living in a new place.
It’s lonely, too.
But that can’t be helped. At least not for him. He’s not too good at trying to make friends. And yet, there’s someone at the door.
Three firm knuckle knocks let him know. But who it might be is anyone’s guess. Still, he begrudgingly answers.
“Oh… so this is you, huh…”
It’s you—the hot but nasty girl next door, wearing that same pair of shorts he’s been thinking about every day without wanting to.
You don’t seem too pleased to see him either, even when you’d been the one to knock.
“Ugh…” You look around, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly before gritting your teeth and finally mustering up enough gall to actually spit out what you’d come there for. “You wouldn’t happen to have a screwdriver or something?”
This time, it’s him who raises his eyebrow. “Or something?” he repeats. “What would that be exactly?”
You scoff then, about to leave, grumbling out, “Never mind–” but he interjects before you’re fully turned around.
“Wait there.”
It’s to both of your surprise when he disappears into his room.
He isn’t gone long before he’s back with a screwdriver.
“Here.”
You don’t say anything, just rudely rush to grab it without even looking at him, but when you pull it to yourself, you’re pulled back, stuck to the same spot. He holds onto the other end, looking you right in your shocked eyes.
“You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone does something for you.”
You look flushed—a little chagrined, maybe—but ultimately, you can’t really argue with it, mumbling out a bitter “Thanks.”
He smiles then, chuckles even. Not nicely. Smugly.
Admittedly, it’s not his best moment, but who can blame him? You haven’t exactly been so nice yourself. Right now, he can tell you almost feel like rejecting his offer altogether, but that refusing at this point would be too petty so you just have to grin and bear it.
It’s actually kind of cute.
“Bring it back once you’re done,” he says, then lets go of you, and off you go, nearly stomping away.
He goes back to studying, shaking his head at you. You can’t have many friends either with that attitude. Suppose you have that in common.
Sometime later there’s a frustrated scream coming from the other room. Then, the sound of a door handle roughly getting yanked, someone storming down the short distance of the corridor before throwing his door open unannounced.
“Your useless screwdriver isn’t doing its stupid job!” you yell in a whine, almost throwing the tool at him where he sits by his desk. It lands in his bed next to him instead.
You look utterly disheveled at this point. Dewy-faced and frustrated, hair a total mess and even hotter still. It’s really unfair. How come a bitchy brat like you looks like that, even when you’re a wreck? It shouldn't be allowed.
“I highly doubt it’s the screwdriver's fault. You positive it’s the useless one?”
This time, you just growl without words before turning on your heel, about to stomp out the same way you’d arrived—but again, he finds himself stopping you for whatever reason he still can’t understand.
“Wait.” He gets up from his chair and picks up the screwdriver you’d chucked. “Le’mme have a look.”
You shake your head with a scoff, “No way. I’m not letting you in my room.”
“You didn’t seem so reserved when you came barging into mine.” Ignoring you, he walks straight past you.
“Wait–” you protest, but he doesn't bother.
He just opens your door and reveals the breakdown you’d had just earlier. Having but one word to ascribe to the scene.
“Wow.”
Suppose you were both in your own right struggling with acclimating to dorm life…
“It’s not my fault I’m not a carpenter or whatever. The instructions said it was simple,” you excuse the mess of planks and screws and bits all belonging to your unassembled wardrobe among all the clothes that are meant to be in it. “They lied.”
He scratches his neck, feeling a little bad for you despite everything. This would take anyone over an hour—probably even more, to be honest. Even if you managed on your own, you’d have a hard time pushing it into place. Not that it’s any of his business. But hey… if he played his cards right, maybe he could get something out of this in the end.
“Alright. I’ll make you a deal,” he says then, folding his arms upon his chest while looking down at you. “I’ll set this up for you.” He leans down, that same smug smile from before plastered on his face as he comes with his condition, “If you promise to lower your music after eight.”
Honestly, with your looks, you could probably knock on just about anyone else's door and ask for their help instead. They probably wouldn’t ask anything in return. But hey, can’t blame a guy for trying.
And to his surprise, you actually seem to think about it. Maybe you’re one of those girls without a clue. You even do this cute thing where you chew your lip in thought, a furrow between your brows.
You look up at him when you’re finished. “Ten.”
You’re bargaining with him now? He was expecting you to say something like fat chance. But no, you’re really that desperate.
He thinks about agreeing but then doesn’t. No, it might be a little scummy of him, but since he’s gotten this far, he might as well keep the act up and stand his ground.
“Eight,” he insists.
And you’re face scrunches as you fold, going down to “Nine.”
But no, following the same logic that had worked for him up until now, he still doesn’t budge. “Eight.”
You purse your lips, and he thinks he’s blown it, that you’re just about ready to bark at him to get the fuck out. But you don’t. Instead, you become even cuter. Giving in with a sigh, “Okay, fine.”
He honestly can’t believe it. Though his face shows no shock, he’s dumbfounded on the inside. He can’t believe that worked. Here’s this chick who all but told him to go fuck himself just a few days ago, now all but begging him for his help. Or no, begging is a strong word, but still.
He has to go back into his room and fetch the rest of his toolbox. Turned out you did need an or-something—a drill. No wonder you weren’t managing. But after a little over an hour of tinkering while you lay on your bed reading a magazine—and at some point asking you if it was okay if he removed his shirt before he died of heatstroke, then bothering you for a drink—it was finally finished.
“Alright, all done.” He announced, and after sliding it into place for you, he clapped his hands together and said, “Ta-dah.”
He then takes a look at his wristwatch, wanting to see how long he’d spent, but comes away with another fun discovery.
“My my, would you look at the time?” he grins again, showing it to you. “Just passed eight.”
It makes him snicker. And not expecting a thank you after that comment, he just gathers his tools and slings his shirt over his shoulder, ready to excuse himself.
“Let me know if you need a cup of sugar, neighbor.”
He’s just about to open the door when you speak up.
“Thanks, but I'm good on sugar, actually.”
Your voice is a little different this time—not annoyed, though not chagrined like earlier either—no, something new. Something that makes him turn around again.
You’ve rolled off the bed, now standing just a short distance away, hips tilted, standing slanted with your arms crossed loosely, wearing those same tight little short shorts he’s never seen you without but could definitely picture on the floor.
Yeah, in his wildest dreams, or so he thought…
“I might need some help breaking in my bed, though, if you’re interested.”
You step closer, sizing him up where he stands, and then you smile, offering him a small coy laugh. “That is, of course, if it’s not already passed your bedtime.”
He swallows thickly—nearly drops the toolbox to the floor but manages to keep his cool, though just barely.
You know, the one you broke up with because he couldn't focus on anything but his career, the one you just couldn’t stand by and watch any longer as he nearly ran his health into the ground—not to mention your relationship—all to reach his goals.
He’d been so mean—meaner than you ever thought possible when you told him you couldn’t do this anymore—said it was a real class act of you to abandon him now when it mattered most. He’d made it about you not wanting a no-known sportsman for a boyfriend, how you never believed in him anyway, how you never cheered for him, how he thinks you don’t even want to see him succeed.
He’d been so loud and so ugly you’d been in shock for weeks afterward, unable to wrap your head around it. You didn’t even dare tell anyone—feeling it was a beast of burden you ought to keep for yourself. Oddly enough, you felt that if anyone knew or saw him like that, it would be not just detrimental to him and his image but embarrassing for you both.
And you hadn't spoken to him since. At least not face-to-face. He’d sent you a few drunk texts then and there, which you’d replied to in short, though mostly ignored. You’d thought about blocking him at one point, but you didn’t want to be dramatic, either. And suppose, in some way, you were still waiting for an apology.
But months passed, and nothing like it ever came, and so, instead of being bitter, you accepted that was just how the two of you ended. And that was that.
Still, it's a little awkward. You wonder if you should congratulate him on his rise in popularity, how he’s finally getting all those long hours spent training back in full—but somehow, you feel it would just sound petty coming from you. And so, you don’t bother.
He’s got other people in his life cheering him on now—he doesn’t need a measly text from his ex. No, it's better to leave it be, is what you think.
Which is why it’s surprising when you get the dinner invitation.
And following the initial surprise, you don’t really know what to expect of it either. But you end up accepting—some part out of curiosity, wondering what he might want after all this time, and another part hopeful it was to finally address the awful break up so that the both of you could move on without it hanging heavy over your heads and hearts.
This, however, was the last thing you had in mind when sitting down with him for the first time in a long time.
“Will you marry me?”
Your whole body flares up with something reminiscent of the feeling when you trip and fall—that type of split burn that rushes through you from head to toe and then leaves you feeling cold all over. Heart in your throat, you’re speechless.
Or no, you just don’t know where to begin.
“What are you doing?” you end up accusing—a little too harshly, maybe, but who could blame you? Looking around, you’re glad your table’s in a more private sector of the restaurant before you look back at him, eyes wide and brows knit.
“I–we broke up a year ago and haven’t seen each other since—and you’re—” Your eyes fall back to the thing in his hands. It’s an outrageous ring. “Asking me to marry you?”
He makes no move to withdraw the offer—keeping his hands where they are, on your side of the table. “You said yes to the dinner. That must mean something. I thought—”
“Yeah. It means that I still worry about you,” you say. “It doesn't mean–”
“I fought my way up. I’m finally at the top,” he cuts you off in earnest. “I’m the best, and the world finally knows it now–”
“I don't care about any of that,” you state, feeling it should have been something you told him from the very beginning. “I'm sorry. But I never cared about you being the best. I just wanted…”
You just wanted the two of you to be like other couples—together and happy. You just wanted that to be enough, but it never was for him.
“Never mind…” you end up saying. “I think I should go.”
You’re about to get up when his hand, suddenly around your wrist, tightens in a harsh grip.
“I don't think you understand,” he utters, voice lowered with a hint of a growl. “It’s either this ring or I bury you in rumors that won’t leave you a moment’s worth of peace.”
You go stiff while looking back at him.
Did he just… did he just threaten you?
You blink. He's got that same warped expression you remember from the last time you saw him, that very odd look as if the guy you know has been switched out with someone entirely different.
Only this time, it just as quickly disappears, and he lets go of your wrist, quickly pulling his hand to himself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–I’m just—” he apologizes with a stutter, looking startled.
He puts his face in his hands. Then there's a sound—close to a sob.
“I’m just a mess without you.”
Goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin when hearing it. And swallowing thickly, you sit back down again, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But spotting how he trembles, you just can’t stop feeling sorry for him.
You sigh. “No, you’re not. You just…” Reaching across the table, you stroke his arm. “You just lose your head a little sometimes, that’s all.”
He peaks up from his hands. A sheen under his eyes reflects the ceiling light, and your heart twists in your chest.
He really is a mess.
“But I know you…” you try smiling. “You were always destined for greatness.”
He takes your offered hand in his, stroking it, then sniffs, voice fluttering weakly, “Yeah, well…”
He keeps his head low, resting it in his other hand as if he just couldn't muster the strength to sit straight or even attempt to pull himself together.
“If I'm so great, why wouldn’t you stay?”
He sounds as if he’s been holding things back for the entirety of the year since you left. Broken now... it's all spilling out.
“Because," you start, even though your throat’s tight and you’re fighting back tears of your own, your mind hasn’t changed.
(yandere! ex crush x gn! reader) (cw: gaslighting, self harm)
you don't really remember why you liked him. he was one of those popular kids who only hung out with other popular kids and disrupted class. he was one of those guys who was effortlessly attractive and had the admiration of other girls and guys. he was basically the perfect guy.
you... you were a bit of a nerd. not an outcast, but certainly not popular. you had your own fair share of friends but that was about it. you were just average.
but him.
he...
he was out of your league, that much was certain. you fell for him anyway despite knowing that. maybe it was your teenage brain being delusional, seeing things as signs when there weren't any. when exactly you fell? you think it was because the two of you got paired for a project together in the final year. yes, that was probably when you started to fall for him.
he was nice.
he was nice.
and you fell for that. how foolish.
sure, he gave you attention and spent time with you after class... yeah he might have told you how beautiful you were when you laughed.... hell, he even gave you something you've always wanted all because he wanted to see you smile... but you shouldn't have taken those the romantic way! of course not! it's not like you and him could ever be together. you were too different from each other.
"you thought i liked you?"
his voice.
it was full of disgust. as though he were looking at something utterly filthy. trash. something so simply unworthy of his gaze. yet, there seemed to be a hint of hesitation behind them. as though he were afraid.
"come on, just because i treated you decently for the project... you're a good friend but..."
then it was pity. like you falling for him was something worth pitying. it was like you were a charity case and his attention was his donation. still, his words were hesitant, shaky.
"honestly, i wouldn't have talked to someone like you if it weren't for the project. you really think you're in my league?"
he was rambling at this point, fiddling with his fingers and avoiding eye contact. still, it was very clear how he felt about you. in your eyes, at least. he didn't like you, at all.
everything came crashing down. your fragile teen heart, the infatuation and rose eyed lens watering away as he continues to hurl hurtful things at you. his words seep deep into your wounds, causing the pain to burn even more.
someone like you.
was that how he saw you? just... someone? like you? how little did he think of you to not even address you as your own person? was all that kindness just a facade? did he really... dislike you that much?
"i... forget it. let's just finish the project and never speak about this again."
the unsaid words only left you hurting more. what was he going to say? what did he want to say? you'll never know because you fucked things up by telling him how you felt.
you never talked to him after the project. never looked at him, never spoke about him, you avoided him like he was the plague. even when... did he try approaching you after that? you don't remember. you don't want to remember.
thankfully, he wasn't all that bad. he never told anyone of your confession and you soon graduated high school without any further drama. you wonder if it was out of pity or just disgust. the sheer disgust of being associated with someone like you. of being confessed to by someone like you.
you decided to forget about him after that day and focus on yourself. so what if some guy rejected you? at least you have yourself, that's something.
you went to college, graduated with honors, and got a job in something you loved. all was great and life was good.
until it wasn't.
you saw him again. this time, instead of the popular high school kid, he was your neighbor that just moved in.
"u-uh..."
he had bags under his eyes, skin that was cold to the touch, and an appearance that looked like he was going to pass out at any second. yet he was still as handsome as ever. something about that disheveled look... sure he wasn't that golden boy he was back then but you couldn't deny that he was still handsome. handsome but tired.
you shake your head, temporarily putting those thoughts to the side. first, how were you supposed to greet him? do you act like you know him? act like he wasn't there and just walk off?
"welcome to the apartment complex, you new here?"
he nodded and his eyes lit up.
ah damn it.
thus was the start to your rekindling with him yet again. your ex crush, now your next door neighbor and friend. apparently he ended up in computer science and was unemployed. something about the current job market or whatever he was mumbling about. he moved out of his parent's house to try and find a job in a new place which is why he's here.
you two start out slow. greeting each other in the morning if you come across one another. then it evolved to going to the grocery store together. things were good. and it felt... nice having him around again.
eventually, the two of you end up befriending each other once again. how sweet! old friends rekindling the flame, right? wrong.
"i love you."
it came so suddenly, but also not really. you should've seen the signs and distanced yourself. the blushing, the increased codependency, his entire clingy boyfriend persona even though you're not together... now things have turned out like this and there's absolutely no way you're getting back with him. not when he's your ex-crush.
"uh..."
before you can say anything, he starts apologizing like his feelings are wrong.
"sorry... 'm sorry..."
he was crying. crying. on his knees, face wet with desperation as he dares not to touch you. his fists were clenched tight, nails breaking the skin on his palms as rushed words fall from his lips.
"i know i don't deserve you but please! i can't live without you!"
he wishes he had never said those harmful words all those years again. that ruined everything between the two of you.
he had really fallen for you all those years back in high school. that much was obvious with how much time he spent with you and how you're the only person to this day to remain in his heart.
but he made the mistake of choosing popularity.
back then, he chose his fake friends that didn't want anything to do with losers over his one true love. they saw his affection for you and called him out on it, causing him to panic and leave you in the dust. but it's okay... he's changed! really! couldn't you tell from how you hung out with him lately? he spends all his time with you, gives you gifts, and does whatever you want him too! he really just wants to show his love! honest!
"i can... i can be better! please, don't leave me!"
meanwhile you were just awkwardly standing there, watching as he bawled his eyes out. well... what now? you're not gonna accept him. definitely not.
sure, he has been treating you nicely recently but didn't he treat you nicely back then too? and what happened when you fell for that huh?
"please... just one chance. i won't hurt you again."
he won't hurt you but he will hurt himself. that's just common sense obviously. if you don't want him it must mean there's something wrong with him, and he'll be more than happy to punish himself for that.
anything for you.
"dude i just- you're not really my type."
that's true. you've grown from your high school self and while it is nice to have him as a friend again, you can't see him as a future partner.
he's just not that guy. and that's not the only reason. he's getting too dependent and clingy to you and it's weird. really weird. if that was his definition of treating you better it wasn't a really good one.
you watch silently as he sniffles, rubbing at his eyes before making eye contact again.
"you don't want me?"
you nod.
"really?"
you nod again.
"i guess it's a sign to end it all then..."
wait what?
"no no no- dude you can't kill yourself just because i rejected you!"
"why not? there's nothing to live for if I can't be yours."
the only sounds heard are the sounds of your breathing and his sniffling. the two of you are engaged in a deep staring contest that he wins as you pull away.
damn it, you didn't want him to die. why'd he say that? now things are awkward-
"there's no meaning in my life if you reject me. I'm just a useless man."
you sigh and rub your forehead.
what are you supposed to do now, huh? he's obviously not in the right state of mind and he doesn't seem to want to move unless you accept his confession.
"you-"
"no one likes me..."
okay that's it.
"listen, I'll go on one date. if after that I don't want to date you, please just move on."
there. nothing will go wrong now. he'll be happy and you'll have him as a friend.
"ah..."
unfortunately for you, you've underestimated a man who's desperate to make up for lost time.and he won't stop until he's gotten what he wants.
