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#LET US NEVER BE RESCUED FROM THIS MESS!!!!!!!
interstellar-gsb · 2 days
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Not wanting to sleep alone
Dogday x Reader - 800 words
Also on ao3
No matter where you went, Dogday was right behind you. This was true from the moment you rescued him, to now, as you brought him and the others into your home for the first time.
The first hours were spent giving each of them a deep cleaning. He assisted you with anything you needed throughout, and didn’t leave your side until you were excusing yourself to take a shower of your own.
Realistically, he knew he couldn’t follow you in, you needed your privacy. But it didn’t stop him from pacing like a lost puppy until you were finished.
Poppy had successfully managed to distract him with reading through some of the books on your shelf, until the sound of the door opening caught his attention.
You approached them with damp hair, dressed in comfortable clothes with the most relaxed expression he’d ever seen you have.
Now that you were back in his sight, he could continue his mission of never leaving you alone. He tagged along while you introduced Poppy and Kissy to your spare bedroom, the pair immediately settling in to the space that they’d eventually make their own.
“Now, I don’t have any other bedroom besides my own,” you began, he allowed you to take his hand and lead you back to the main room, “And I doubt you’d want your first night here to be spend on the couch,” He mimics you in taking a seat on the plush piece of furniture. “So instead, you can take my room, and I’ll sleep out here.”
His tail—which had never stopped wagging since you showed your face again—comes to a stop. You pause, meeting his eyes.
“Is that okay?”
He looks down, idly running his thumb over your knuckles as he considers your offer.
“Angel, I wouldn’t want to take your bed from you.”
You press your lips into a thin line, you assumed that he’d decline at first.
“How about…just for the night? And we can switch tomorrow if you’d like.”
He sighs and you feel like you’ve won.
“One night.” He urges, letting go of your hand as he stands.
“Just one.” You repeat, smiling.
He turns to you just as he enters the hall leading to your room.
“Goodnight, angel...”
“Goodnight Dogday, sleep well.”
He smiles widely, then disappears down the hall.
Half of you expects him to turn around, and the other half hopes that he does.
After accepting that he isn’t coming back, you shut off the lights and make yourself as comfortable as you can on the sofa. The exhaustion catches up to you all at once after you lie down, assuming sleep would come easy.
Thirty minutes of tossing and turning. Everything about the room feels wrong. It’s too cold, too open. You can’t help the restlessness that comes from feeling like you aren’t hidden enough to relax. Every time your eyes drift closed your flight-or-fight response takes over. You’re expecting some kind of creature to be standing over you once you open your eyes.
It’s terrifying. And you’re never going to get any sleep at this rate.
…You couldn’t possibly wake Dogday because of something like this.
The poor man deserved to sleep through the night without interruption, but his absence was making your skin crawl.
The door to your room is right down the hall. It’s so tempting…
With a huff, you pull yourself off of the sofa and take off to your room.
There’s hesitation in the way you reach for the doorknob, but before you can turn it, the door swings open.
Dogday stands in the doorframe, leaning over to accommodate for his height, his white pupils cast light over your face.
“I-I couldn’t sleep…” You start, staring up at him.
He pauses briefly before laughing, “I guess neither of us are ready to be alone, huh?”
You shake your head, grinning. “It’s just not the same when you’re not next to me.”
Your statement makes him jump a little.
“Angel…” His tail is moving so quickly you can hear how it cuts through the air.
You waste no time squeezing past him into the room.
The bed is only lightly messed up, still warm from him when you sink into it.
He follows easily, a routine that feels lifelong as he cuddles up to your side, even thought it’s only been a week.
He tucks the blanket around the both of you as you nestle into each other.
It’s warm and safe, everything either of you have hoped for after escaping, only now waking up won’t bring uncertainty.
It’s almost too welcoming. You can’t help but laugh, teary eyed as you pull him impossibly closer.
His tail thumps against your leg, only making you smile harder.
For the first time, everything feels perfect.
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calvinandhobbes · 2 years
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Aimee Nezhukumatathil, “Baked Goods”
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girlfictions · 1 year
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Aimee Nezhukumatathil, from Baked Goods
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softest-punk · 8 months
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Hiya, could you pretty pretty please do a 12. and 33. prompt for the ineffable husbands? I keep thinking of Bentley just locking them in and not letting them out until they talk cupboard trope style 😔
Yessssss :D
---
"Now you listen to me Crowley, you are going to tell your car—"
"Our car."
Aziraphale stops. Blinks. Gives up on fighting with the door handle.
"What did you say?" he asks.
"It's our car," Crowley repeats, more of a mumble this time, looking away from Aziraphale. A raindrop runs down the window, and he follows it with his eyes until it pools at the bottom, joining the great conference of former raindrops gathering there. They're in for a night of it, by the looks of the sky. "You said that. You made that true. So you're as much at fault as I am for it locking us in."
"I don't see how this is my fault. You kidnapped—"
"Kidnapped? I rescued you. That's. That's what I do. That's what the almighty made me for, I think," he huffs, still not looking at Aziraphale.
One rescue does not a rift mend. He's owed an apology. And even though everything's gone to heaven, like he predicted, he still hasn't gotten one.
He'd take a lot less. He doesn't need to hear that he was right. He needs to hear that Aziraphale's sticking with him this time.
The Bentley is, at least temporarily, seeing to that. Crowley gives the steering wheel a gentle pat. He genuinely has nothing to do with the doors being locked and apparently immune to miracles or temptation, but he thinks it's trying to help.
If nothing else, the constant itch of not being able to reach out and touch Aziraphale, if he wanted, has vanished for a bit. The ache of missing him has eased back just a fraction. It's a good car. A good, loyal car.
"You're cold," he says, shrugging out of his jacket without even having to look at Aziraphale. It's cold out tonight, in the middle of bloody nowhere, and he gets cold easily. Crowley doesn't want him to be cold.
"You'll be cold," Aziraphale says as Crowley shoves his body-warmed jacket at him.
"Demon," he says. "Don't get cold."
Theoretically, an angel ought not to get cold either. Thing is. Aziraphale's never actually been a very good angel. Not that Crowley would ever tell him that to his face.
Besides, he's his angel. He's allowed to be not very good.
"Thank you," Aziraphale says, taking the jacket and spreading it over himself like a blanket.
Silence, except for the pit-pat of rain against the car, falls. And Aziraphale's breathing. Crowley's missed the way he breathes.
He literally twiddles his thumbs in his lap, trying to think of something to say or do.
"Things are a bit of a mess," Aziraphale says after what might have been several eternities. Crowley's lost count.
He opens his mouth to say something—something comforting, like that it's not all that bad, or that they'll figure it out, they're a team, they always figure it out.
And then Aziraphale continues, "and you tried to warn me."
His voice sounds so small that Crowley, naturally, like he always does, deflates like a sat-on whoopee cushion. Because the thing about Aziraphale is that he always really is trying to do the right thing. Because he still believes there's one true Right Thing to do. Because he's precious and wonderful and optimistic and good. Not a good angel. But a good person.
"Did you ever wonder why I might try to do that?" Crowley asks.
He's not sure he wants an answer. Either one's going to hurt.
Aziraphale falls silent again, which is probably for the best. The way the moonlight's hitting the window now, Crowley can see him reflected in it. Still the same Aziraphale. Heaven hasn't really changed him.
"Do you really think God created you to look out for me?"
Crowley sighs. "I don't know. Plan's, y'know, ineffable."
"Well it would explain why you keep doing it," Aziraphale says. "If it's all in the plan."
"Right," Crowley draws in on himself. Not getting through right now, then. "No other possible explanation for it, really."
"Well. There is one other possible explanation," Aziraphale offers hesitantly.
"Oh?" Crowley asks.
"Well... you might. I suppose. Be fond of me?"
Crowley glances over at him. Sighs. Okay, well. He's come to that conclusion, then. It's only taken a little over six thousand years. Practically no time at all.
He takes his sunglasses off. Stares out of the windscreen. Wonders if he can actually be discorporated by way of stomach knots. Gnaws on his lip.
And then gets very, very brave. "I might be," Crowley says, forcing himself to look Aziraphale in the eye. "I might even be in love with you."
Aziraphale swallows. He looks like he might either be sick or pass out from what Crowley realises at the last second isn't disgust.
It's nerves.
"You might," he says, looking away as he fiddles with Crowley's jacket. "And. And if you were. That would be very convenient for me. Because I... I think I've been in love with you for a very long time."
Crowley means to say something to that, but the nice satisfying thunk of the Bentley unlocking beats him to it.
"Well," Crowley says, running his tongue over his teeth. "That's probably enough to save the world, then. Shall we?"
Aziraphale lights up, bright and beautiful and good as always. "I think we really must."
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sunderwight · 3 months
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Bingqiu roleswap where disciple Shen Yuan knows he's gay, and figures out that he has a big huge crush on his handsome Shizun, but also concludes nearly at once that he's not going to be drawing Luo Binghe's eye any time soon. Firstly, Luo Binghe is notoriously straight. Secondly, even if he weren't, he wouldn't go for his scrawny untalented nerd of a disciple! Shen Yuan's not bad looking, not before or after transmigrating, but he's neither a beautiful nor a hot manly man, and he assumes if Luo Binghe were into dudes he'd be into the same kinds of twunks that Shen Yuan likes. Guys on his own level, etc etc.
Plus Luo Binghe hated the original disciple Shen, and only started to warm up to the transmigrated version after Shen Yuan got injured in front of him trying to stop the other disciples on the peak from killing a small animal. For some reason, Luo Binghe brought Shen Yuan medicine. He got even nicer after Shen Yuan distracted the skinner demon by trying to convince it to take his skin instead of Luo Binghe's, and then again when Shen Yuan successfully fought off a demon invader -- though initially when Luo Binghe volunteered him for that job, he thought it was an assassination attempt. His heart was in his throat when Luo Binghe nearly took a poisoned blow for him, but luckily he reacted more quickly and got hit by the thorns instead. His heavenly demon blood took care of the poison, and he managed to convince everyone that he narrowly avoided getting cut at all.
Shen Yuan's careful not to read anything into it when Luo Binghe finds out about his, erm, uncomfortable dormitory situation and moves him into the side room, or when he completely messes up trying to make dinner and Luo Binghe takes over cooking and bans him from the kitchen (he swears he's not actually that bad at cooking, he just never had to use a kitchen without a microwave or an electric hot plate before...)
After all, it's not like Luo Binghe is cooking for him, he's just making food he likes and letting Shen Yuan eat it too! Because he's nice! He's way nicer than the book gave him credit for being, see, clearly Shen Yuan was correct in signing up for his defense squad, "top ten worst villains of all time" his ass that poll was nonsense...
Unfortunately, though, the plot's still gotta plot. Shen Yuan is heartbroken when the Immortal Alliance Conference rolls around and his shizun stabs him and throws him down into the Endless Abyss. Heartbroken, but not surprised. After all, it was always going to go this way, wasn't it?
But at least, now that it's done, he has some agency in how he reacts to it. He's changed the story enough that he doesn't need to go get revenge. Maybe Luo Binghe's still the villain of his story, maybe that was inevitable, but some heroes let the villains get away. Don't they? It's all part of that noble, breaking the cycle of abuse type stuff. He can be that kind of hero. He can let it go. As long as he avoids Luo Binghe altogether, it should be fine, right? It's not like he's obligated to turn people into human sticks. He asked the system, he's definitely not!
Technically he's not even required to conquer the demon realms. He just has to get out of the Abyss and the be sufficiently cool and/or tragic. Conquest is just one means of doing that, and not even Shen Yuan's preferred, since he doesn't exactly want to rule over anybody. Going around the demon realms beating up some jackasses and rescuing some damsels in distress and becoming sworn brothers with Shang Qinghua, one of the current demon kings, is suitable. He definitely doesn't want to marry any of the damsels he encounters (thank fuck the system lets him off the hook for that!)
But eventually he has to go back to the human world. Not only is it mandated by the system, but he also misses living there. The demonic realms are in many ways better than expected, plus a lot of the monsters are really cool, but he misses the weather and plants and the people he's more accustomed to being around.
He misses Qing Jing Peak, if he's being honest with himself. Shizun's cooking and the bamboo forest and the crisp mountain breezes, the comforts of home.
Not that he can actually go back there in specific. Of course not. If he did that, Luo Binghe would try to kill him, or else the system would try and make him kill Luo Binghe. Bad ideas all around. No, he can't go back to Qing Jing Peak, but he can go find someplace nicer than the demon realms at least. He just has to keep a low profile, which shouldn't be hard since the original goods did that even while actively scheming to kill his former master!
Except.
Everywhere he goes, suddenly Luo Binghe is also there?!
Good thing Shen Yuan thought to take a page out of the book of Luo Binghe's actual love interest, Liu Mingyan, and start wearing a veil. He just didn't want any randos who might have seen him at the Immortal Alliance Conference or on any of the other missions his shizun sent him on to recognize him. But one minute he's investigating a strange case in Jinlan City, and the next the streets are full of Huan Hua cultivators (Shen Yuan has no intention of joining them, that's the path the original took to getting revenge! He doesn't want revenge!), and then Luo Binghe and Sect Leader MBJ and Peak Lord SHL show up, and SY is ducking down alleys and hiding behind columns, just trying to stay out of the way until the lockdown on Jinlan lifts and he can leave.
Except...
Luo Binghe really isn't acting like himself?
He looks like he hasn't been eating or sleeping well. There are dark circles around his eyes, and something almost melancholy in his countenance. And he's dressed entirely in white, none of the usual Qing Jing greens and blues anywhere to be seen. Of even greater concern, he's being reckless. Shen Yuan can't stop himself from rushing out when he sees his former shizun get infected by a sower demon.
Luckily, it's been some years since the last time they saw one another. Shen Yuan's gained a few inches in height, so he's almost at eye-level with his old master now, and though he's still more slender than bulky he's picked up some totally new styles from training the demon realms. He doesn't move the same way he used to. With that, plus the veil, it's enough for him to quickly swallow back his words as he grabs Luo Binghe and quickly administers a cure for the sower infection.
Well, he has one of course. He wouldn't need it himself, heavenly demon blood and all, but his time running around playing hero in the demon realms meant he rescued a lot of humans from such fates. Which is hard to do if you don't have a cure to their afflictions, but between him and Shang Qinghua, sourcing such things was almost easy.
Luo Binghe looks at him like he's just seen a ghost. The other Cang Qiong sect members are alarmed by SY suddenly accosting one of their own and of course find him suspicious, so he runs away right after, and then he has to lose Sha Hualing's pursuit in the city.
But what else could he do? He manages to evade the system's attempts to railroad him into meeting Gongyi Xiao, avoids the rest of the Cang Qiong crowd, and drops some of the cure through the current Qian Cao peak lord's window to get the incident sorted out. Then he flees and puts a good amount of distance between himself, Jinlan City, and every righteous sect he can think of.
The only problem is that after this point, Luo Binghe is everywhere.
Any time Shen Yuan stays in one place for longer than a few days, Qing Jing disciples start turning up. Any time he takes a job hunting some cool-sounding monster or pursuing some interesting tome of knowledge, the better to satisfy the system, it seems like Luo Binghe has selected and gone after the exact same target! Which is especially annoying because back when SY was a disciple, Luo Binghe was always assigning him to do this stuff. Since when does his chronic homebody master have an interesting in six-tailed scorpion lemurs or ancient spiritual kilns?
What's weirder, though, are the rumors.
It seems like any time SY stops at some well-populated place and asks for the latest gossip, he has to hear about how the Qing Jing peak lord lost his beloved disciple during the Immortal Alliance Conference, and mourned like a widow, and now wanders the earth in search of solace for his grief. Seeking something, possibly even the ghost of his dear disciple.
What nonsense! Luo Binghe threw SY into the Abyss himself. He had to do it, it was the plot! And also his obligation as a righteous cultivator, confronted with a "dangerous" half-demon. Does it sting? Yes it stings! That's why SY wouldn't just forget it! Despite logically knowing it's pointless, is there some part of him that wishes his master would have chosen differently? That thinks he should have known that no matter what kind of power Shen Yuan had, he would never use it to hurt people recklessly, or harm innocents, or especially not harm... well. It's pointless, his blood condemned him, and if there is some part of Luo Binghe which regrets what happened, it's doubtless just that he unwittingly harbored a monster for so long.
Which is fine and Shen Yuan would leave it at that, if the guy would just let him!
But no. Instead he has to deal with Luo Binghe turning up and asking him questions, trying to get him to talk (SY has no hope of disguising his voice, if he says anything he's not even sure it won't crack as he comes perilously close to tears instead, so he just stays silent), and then asking for his name, asking if he's mute, asking about his background, his sect, his kin. Is his a righteous cultivator? Where did he get that sword? (NOT Xin Mo, thanks, he used that thing once and then tossed it back into the Abyss before the portal finished closing behind him -- he knows a poisoned chalice when he sees one, although knowing the plot twist about that sword from the novel sure helped.) Where did he learn those forms? Is he... does he have a safe place to go home to? Someone to tend his injuries? Make sure he eats his meals?
SY, of course, stays silent. But it's difficult. Not only because Luo Binghe asks, but because he still looks... bad. Sunken, sorrowful, desperate almost. Shen Yuan can't figure out if he knows or not. Maybe he's unsure, maybe he's looking for SY to give him a sign, so that he can figure him out and then flip a switch and try to finish the job he started.
That can't happen. If they fight, SY will win, and he doesn't want to hurt Luo Binghe.
But even if Luo Binghe's not a heavenly demon, he is a highly accomplished cultivator, and it seems he's got his own breaking points to reach. Eventually he corners SY and gets a hand on his veil, and for a moment SY is sure he's going to rip it off, see his face, and confront him all "I knew it was you, you twisted evil demon, you won't escape justice a second time" and he feels a deep, icy terror close around his lungs--
Luo Binghe lets go of the veil before he can lift it.
But then something even worse happens. Because Shen Yuan's handsome, peerless, noble master breaks down. He falls to his knees, begging forgiveness, sobbing, clutching at his head like he's being driven to madness.
It all spills out of him, then. How he pushed his own dearest disciple into the Abyss, which obviously SY already knew, but also how he was apparently qi-deviating the whole time, and his senses could not differentiate between one kind of demonic "threat" and another. How he realized what he'd done only after he regained his senses hours later, and rushed back to the place where the tear to the Abyss had opened, but could not find a way in after the one he lost. How he had betrayed and thrown away the only person who cared about him, and couldn't even explain that he hadn't intended to. How he would accept anything, any punishment, hatred, penance, or revenge, if only he could see his disciple's face once more.
SY is stunned.
Apparently, Luo Binghe hadn't rejected him for his demon blood?
Not only that, but beforehand, he seemed to have valued Shen Yuan a lot more than Shen Yuan would have credited.
Is it a trick? Is he lying? SY would have guessed so, would have assumed that Luo Binghe's plan was to lull him into complacency only to turn on him once he finally had confirmation. But somehow, he just... doesn't think this is an insincere display. His old master is too cool for this stuff! He has too much dignity to just throw it away on a scheme! There are other ways to get what he wants.
Even if it is a lie, Shen Yuan is tired of running. He's the hero. He won't actually lose, and if it comes to it, it's still in his hands to decide if he wants to spare Luo Binghe or not (he does, of course he does, even if this whole spiel is an act). Plus he's got a backup plant body in one of Shang Qinghua's greenhouses if all goes to shit.
He takes the veil off himself.
Luo Binghe, teary-eyed, stares at him as if his face is the most beautiful he's ever seen.
Shen Yuan nearly puts the veil back on. His cheeks heat up. Dear Shizun, aren't you an immortal master? A noble peak lord? Isn't it your calling to vanquish demons? Get up off the dirty ground right this minute! Where did your dignity go? Shen Yuan did not spend all those nights doing the laundry to watch his teacher dirty his knees for no good reason!
There's a quaver in Luo Binghe's voice as he points out that Shen Yuan was terrible at doing laundry. Luo Binghe had to redo it the day after, all the time.
Shen Yuan chides at him that he should have made one of the other disciples do it then.
Luo Binghe just laughs, and stays on the ground, until finally Shen Yuan has to physically pull him up. Muttering about how he's being ridiculous, what's he crying for, why's he been moping so much, doesn't he know that handsome face should never look so bereft? Then he realizes what he's saying and shuts his mouth, but Luo Binghe just looks happy for the first time in years. Since the Abyss. How is it possible that SY, who actually had to slog through that awful place, can still smile more than Luo Binghe, who didn't?
They're standing so close. Holding on to one another. Almost as if... as if the scene's tone is... well...
Oh what the hell!
Shen Yuan closes the last little bit of distance between them, and kisses Luo Binghe.
#svsss#scum villain's self saving system#bingqiu#long post#of course the plot probably interferes further then#turns out that while luo binghe was desperately trying to get sy back he accidentally woke up sy's father#who for this au let's say is sj instead of tlj#sj does NOT approve of this match and also hates all the righteous cultivators (and demons... and everyone mostly...)#but he is also busy trying to resurrect yqy or something#kidnaps sy like well I missed the chance to raise you and actually that's probably for the best but now I need your blood#for Reasons#luo binghe is not a fan of this turn of events#reverse holy mausoleum arc when SY is mostly unconscious except to sometimes throw out advice and LBH is dodging traps and villains#the pining-over-the-dead-shizun arc is probably AFTER the holy mausoleum and lbh self-destructs to rescue sy from sj's plans#sy refuses to accept this outcome he decided luo binghe was NOT to die he didn't need a redemption arc he was FINE sy DECIDED#but luckily they're in the holy mausoleum so sy grabs a resurrection artifact of some kind#has to spend a few years restoring and maintaining lbh's corpse before he can get the to actually work but it's fine#he's fine everything's fine he's GOING to get lbh back lbh is NOT ALLOWED TO DIE#luckily unhinged sy results in way less collateral damage than unhinged lbh#so mostly he just fights off mbj's attempts to honorably recover his shidi's body and offer him a proper burial#while camping out in the holy mausoleum and arguing with sj's detached body parts#y'know normal healthy behavior
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sagaduwyrm · 4 months
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DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:
Now on AO3
So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.
Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.
So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.
Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.
Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.
And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?
Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.
It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are. 
Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.
This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp. 
Tim Drake.
Red Robin.
Shit.
Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.
+++
The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.
They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic. 
They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.
“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.
He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly.  The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.
“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”
Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific. 
He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.
He reached up to call for backup and only got static.
Shit.
He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.
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eternally-racing · 1 month
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how do you like your eggs? | lando norris
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pairing: lando x reader (w/ best friend Danny Ric) 
genre: fluff 
wc:1.2k
summary: Lando’s determined to show you how much you mean to him by cooking you breakfast, even if he is horrible in the kitchen.
— — — — 
“You’re being way too loud, mate, you’re going to wake her up.” 
There’s too much rummaging through cabinets as Daniel asks Lando if he can get his sifter out from the cabinets. It sure as hell would be a lot easier to find if Lando actually knew what a sifter was, but as a boy who’s gotten most of his meals delivered to him and has become a creature of habit for the select few that he does make on his own, it’s safe to say that he is an absolute menace in the kitchen. 
After your boyfriend Lando had last minute decided to go to Australia to visit Daniel, you received enough facetimes and text messages from him begging for you to come visit that you had finally caved to spontaneity and flew into Perth the night before. 
Lando was nothing but a gentleman, and he wanted to do something special to show his appreciation for you going out of your way to spend time with him. Every sacrifice that you make definitely does not go unnoticed, and in the little time that he has during the offseason Lando likes to make sure that you know how much he loves everything that you do for him. 
And somehow that led to his master plan of wanting to cook breakfast for you. He knew that he was no masterchef, but Lando had hoped that having his former teammate help him out in the kitchen would be enough. It started as a plan to make a full English breakfast. Then Lando realized that Daniel’s fridge looked like he hadn’t gone grocery shopping since the two of them were teammates, so the plan got switched to just eggs and homemade biscuits. And after two failed attempts at making dough for biscuits that had only led to a colossal mess on the kitchen countertops they finally settled for making just eggs. 
“There’s a really great breakfast cafe down the road, Lando. I’m sure Y/N would like that just as much as..” Daniel’s voice trails off as he looks at what he used to be able to recognize as his own kitchen “whatever this is that you’re doing.” 
Meanwhile, Lando is at eye level with his bowl of freshly cracked eggs as he is carrying out what he can only describe as a “rescue mission” to fish out the pieces of eggshell that have fallen into the bowl. 
“Shut up Daniel, it’s a labor of love, you wouldn’t get it.” He continues to pick out a concerning number of pieces of shell.
“More like a labor of salmonella” Daniel snickers as he leans against the counter. 
The Aussie is quick to jump out of the way when Lando throws a piece of shell at him and misses, only adding to the mess in the kitchen. Luckily, he’s saved by the bell when you finally stumble out of the bedroom, sleep still clouding your eyes. 
“Good morning sunshine!” Lando yells from the stove as he’s finally gotten into action cooking said eggs. 
With the promise that in 2 minutes there would be fresh eggs for breakfast, Lando guides you to sit at the table. You hadn’t realized until this moment that you’d never seen Lando cook at all, let alone cook for you. He was a great sous chef when he asked you to be, but you weren’t sure of his abilities when left to his own devices. 
“Breakfast is served!” Lando says as he lays the plate in front of you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise, biting your tongue to keep your initial reaction from slipping out. 
“They’re poached!” your boyfriend exclaims with a smile.
Lando looks so proud and there’s no way you can break his heart over what is certainly a non-edible, definitely not poached egg that he has placed in front of you. 
“Thank you, baby” you smile as you pinch his cheek.
You can see Daniel posed behind Lando wildly shaking his hands and mouthing “DO NOT EAT” as he watches you toy with the runny eggs in front of you. You would do anything for Lando, including eating an icky egg, so you pick up your fork and dig in.
It’s definitely still raw, which you expected from its appearance, but there’s subtle hints of vinegar and sugar and something spicy that feels especially vile on your tongue. Your best attempt at a poker face cracks near the end as you try to swallow, but you’re quick to try and cover it up. 
“Wow, you did something really special with these Lan” you say, choosing your words very carefully as you try to wash out your mouth with a non-suspicious amount of water. 
Lando offers to try them and you figure there’s no point in stopping them as he piles some egg onto a spoon. You swear it barely even touches his mouth before he spits it back out right onto the plate. 
“Oh my god - you swallowed that??” The British boy doesn’t even dare to put his tongue back into his mouth as he tries to brush the taste off his taste buds. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles up inside you as you and Daniel start to keel over in laughter. 
“Mate - you let me serve this to my girlfriend?? I could have killed her or something with this!” Lando turns to Daniel in his rage.
The Aussie is laughing and is trying to rationalize that the egg is probably not deadly as he continues to gasp for air. It’s Lando who makes the next move to grab the plate and dump it in its entirety in the garbage.
“That’s a porcelain plate, Lando!” you exclaim from where you’re sitting. 
“”Please, it’s probably a biohazard at this point. I  think I owe Daniel an entirely new kitchen at this point anyways, so he can just add this to my tab.” Lando jokes as he pulls you towards the bathroom, gesturing towards the mess on the counters as you both walk away.
“Lando, she’s so in love with you because you couldn’t pay me to eat that shit.” Daniel says as he watches the both of you share the bathroom trying to brush the vile taste off your tongues with your toothbrushes.
Lando keeps the toothbrush in his mouth as he goes to wrap his arms around your waist, something that has you shrugging away since you’re pretty sure he’s drooling on your shoulder, and you tell him exactly that. From the side Daniel can’t stop laughing as he stares at you two. 
The British boy stays attached to you as he leans over to spit out his toothpaste, mumbling something you can’t quite understand.
“ I sdflksnjo sdlkgsnd” 
You almost choke on your spit listening to Lando’s babbling as you hunch over to do the same in the sink. 
“I was trying to say that I’m so lucky to have you baby. I love you.” 
You can't help but smile against Lando’s lips as you pull him in for a kiss. There’s still a vague taste of vinegar and egg that you know will linger for a little too long, but more than anything, he tastes like love.
---
author's note: this was just something fun and sweet inspired by Lando's recent interview about his Australia trip! Thanks for all the love :) Until next time! - Em 🤍
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(Genshin Impact) Jean, Eula, Rosaria, Ei, Shenhe, Yelan, Navia, Lumine rescuing their S/O
No one requested this, Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out For A Hero" came on and demanded I write. ...Same thing happened for the AK-15 fic actually. I NEED A HERO, I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO-
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The moment Jean learns that her S/O had been kidnapped for ransom, her senses become so hyper focused and immediately sets off to alert the Knights of an abduction.
She wastes absolutely no time in tracking S/O, and does so easily with her and the others searching.
Her adrenaline kicks into overdrive, and she does not rest until S/O is safe inside Mondstadt walls, ignoring any injury sustained and insisting that she can keep going.
For only a brief moment, Jean loses control and doesn't even warn warn the kidnappers or attempt an arrest, immediately using her Vision to blow them back.
The sight of her S/O is enough to get her to snap back to her senses, and promptly make the offenders pay for their crimes by sending them to the jails.
With a sigh of relief, Jean feels the exhaustion on her body start to take its toll, but she smiles as she unties them.
(Jean) "Thank goodness you're alright. Let's get you home."
She gives her S/O the tightest hug of their life, and has one arm locked around them the entire journey back.
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Eula absolutely loses it the moment she learned that someone of the Lawrence clan has kidnapped her S/O.
This was the exact reason she did not want them associated with her-
No. Now was not the time for such thoughts. Now was the time for vengeance.
Being the Captain of the Reconnaissance company, she doesn't have any difficulty in locating their whereabouts.
As much as Eula would like to make sure the Lawrence in question never take another step, she knows it'd be far worse for them to be alive and imprisoned by the Knights of Favonius.
With a swing of her claymore, she instantly puts down the attacker in an ambush and cuffs them. Her gaze turns to her lover before releasing them, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.
(Eula) "Hmph, how careless of you to be captured by another Lawrence. Next time, you will not be so lucky."
By the way her hand was shaking and how close she remained at their side, they could easily see past her words and how worried she was about them.
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VIOLENCE
Unlike most people in Mondstadt, her idea of justice is if the person never takes another breath again.
The person kidnapping S/O more than likely had no idea that she was even associated with them. That was their first mistake.
Their last mistake was assuming they would get away with it alive.
Rosaria stalks the kidnapper to where her S/O is being kept.
For the moment, they were unconscious.
Which worked for her.
Dropping down from the shadows, she quietly but violently dispatches of the kidnapper, taking extra care to not make a mess on S/O.
She unties them before carrying them in her arms out of harm's way, not making a comment until they woke up.
(Rosaria) "Good, you're awake. I'm glad you're okay, but be more careful next time."
Rosaria's grip tightens on them before gently setting them back down if they could walk.
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What do you think happens when you kidnap God's girlfriend/boyfriend?
If you answered death, congratulations! You're right!
Ei on the inside is scared for their safety, but she knows that panicking will not make things better.
Instead, she goes out to rescue them personally while alerting the soldiers at her command to ensure no one escapes.
And to add extra insurance, she sends out the Shogun to find S/O as well, and to exterminate any offender with extreme prejudice.
The skies darkened and lightning split apart the clouds, striking at the entrance of the abandoned base.
The last thing S/O's kidnappers saw was a woman in purple, staring down at them with a katana held in her hand.
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROOOAAAAACHING
There was literally nothing left of the kidnappers to arrest or bury, so Ei casually walked up to S/O before untying their restraints.
(Ei) "I am glad to see you unharmed. Do you require any medical assistance?"
For the next month, Ei and the Shogun personally accompany S/O to wherever they needed to go.
Ensuring that if anyone was stupid enough to try it again, they got to see what they would be up against.
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EXTREME VIOLENCE
The red ropes on Shenhe is barely enough to contain the rage that swells within her at this very moment.
Someone dared to kidnap someone as loving and sweet as her S/O?
Thanks to them and the Traveler, she tries not to use violence as the answer to all her problems.
For this particular situation, Shenhe decides that violence will solve the problem that is the kidnapper's continued existence.
The very second she found out their location, she begins ripping and tearing through anything and anyone in the vicinity that she deemed was responsible.
The treasure hoarders that kidnapped them? Turned to ribbons.
The wooden doors trying to conceal them? In splinters.
That one Hilichurl sitting near the cliff minding its own business and not even realizing what was happening? It's now at the bottom of that cliff. (And if Shenhe didn't do it, you would've, you monster.)
Shenhe is absolutely stained red the moment she frees her S/O, her rage slowly subsiding at the sight of her lover.
(Shenhe) "I am here to rescue you, S/O."
Shenhe is almost super glued to their side from then on, never wanting to let them get hurt ever again.
And Archons help anyone who tried to again.
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Yelan figured something like this would happen. Her enemies would try to kidnap her S/O as a form of revenge or luring her out.
Unfortunately for them, Yelan had a contingency plan if something like this ever happened.
Informants are able to pinpoint the exact location S/O was being held with relative ease.
She infiltrates the building and without warning, her strings immediately sweep the kidnappers off their feet and left them dangling in the air.
(Yelan) "Not so fun when you're tied up, is it?"
Ignoring their shouting, she walks over to S/O and gives them a smile.
(Yelan) "Sorry for the wait. Dinner on me?"
She seems casual about the situation, but when they're out of earshot of everyone, she gives them a firm but gentle hug.
Yelan was no stranger to losing people she cared about, but she was glad she did not have to re-experience the feeling today.
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(Navia) *LOADS UMBRELLA WITH MALICIOUS INTENT*
Oh, perfect! Looks like S/O's kidnappers just volunteered themselves to be target practice!
Navia charges headfirst to wherever S/O is being held, not really worrying about the collateral damage other than S/O themselves.
Her bodyguards were able to find them quickly, and joined her in their rescue.
Navia lets all guns fly, making sure these punks would be taught a lesson they'd never forget.
NO ONE touches her darling, except for her!
When Navia finally gets S/O out, she has them in a near bone crushing hug, kissing them repeatedly on the face, being a bit too playful considering the situation.
But in private, she nearly breaks down crying as her hug on S/O tightens.
She was so afraid that they'd get hurt, or worse.
But she's thanking the gods above that they were unharmed.
The aftermath of the situation, Navia and her guards are almost stalking S/O. For their safety, of course.
Even though sometimes that safety has to be all three of them hiding behind a bush very conspicuously, even after S/O's insistence that they were fine.
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Sadly, this was not Lumine's first experience with a close person to her being kidnapped. Probably wasn't going to be the last either.
While she is worried for their safety, she has no doubt that they're going to get them out fine.
Lumine blitzes into the domain they're being held in and clears out everyone in her way with nearly blinding speed.
No one has a chance to even react as she effortlessly takes out every single attacker, making her way to them.
Finally after knocking out their kidnapper, she has the guards who she informed the kidnapping about make their arrests as she personally attends to S/O.
(Lumine) "You're not hurt are you?" sigh "Good. Come on, let's go home."
Lumine holds S/O's arm the entire time as they get enough distance from town, remaining silent.
She couldn't find her brother, and she didn't want to lose S/O as well.
Brightening up the mood a bit, Paimon appeared behind them.
(Paimon) "Why don't we have S/O stay with us at the Teapot for a while?"
Lumine makes it mandatory for S/O to sleep in the bedroom with her, and has Tubby or Paimon usually keeping an eye on them so she has some peace of mind.
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redclercs · 10 months
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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.
ix. i'm so sick of running as fast as i can
— the one where they painted you out to be bad (so it's okay that you're mad).
warnings: fair warning you're going to be pissed, foul language, this one has more media between text and it's a little long. 2.3k words (+articles and a very long youtube thing!!)
currently playing: it's time to go by taylor swift!
masterlist ✢ next
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By Alana Blake
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YOU read it here first, friends. #YNCHARLES is still going strong even after the mess y/n found herself in during the Spanish Grand Prix weekend.
Rumor had it that after y/n's declarations where she said 'it was not serious' and 'she was just having fun', the Monegasque heartthrob dumped her immediately. This was fueled by the fact that we didn't see any pictures of them together during such weekend.
But sources have come to the rescue, letting us all know they're not broken up! "They talk every day for hours," our source said, "Both are still trying to keep it fun but more lowkey after everyone found out about the cheating."
RELATED: Victoria Presley's top five beauty hacks.
You would think that after a partner refers to you as a 'toy', dumping them is the best course of action, but apparently that doesn't apply to Mr. Leclerc who has "nothing but good things to say about y/n".
"He's excited to see her in New York before the Canada Grand Prix, they have it all planned out since she has her apartment back." The source added.
One thing is for sure, if we see y/n at the next Grand Prix, that's the big confirmation that they are together, since they blew their Elix cover by forcing them to end the contract.
SEE ALSO:
→ Victoria Presley's inauguration after party at the Grand Havana Room, you just had to be there.
→ Taylor Swift defends y/n y/ln: ''All of you have learned nothing!"
→ Aidan Kim on Charles Leclerc: "Never heard of him until my girlfriend cheated on me"
𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝘼𝙔? 𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙒!
You're seeing the top comments.
Anonymous – 4 hr ago
They're both so shameless! and charles was liking tweets saying they were friends like he could really trick us.
kollhha – 3 hr ago
I hate her, Charles dump her ass for the love of god.
adriennewells – 40 min ago
no but seriously what is it about y/n that has men brainwashed?
Anonymous – 10 min ago
They WOULD be cute together, i don't think they're dating though.
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June 10th, Los Angeles, California
You fit your life for the past months into two suitcases, and a carry on. Your room at Vic's house is messy and it feels strangely empty without your discarded shoes and dirty laundry on the floor. But it's time to go, you cannot impose your presence in this enormous house anymore. You have felt like an intruder since you started traveling to Formula 1 and coming back every week like this is your hotel and not your best friend's home.
"Are you really going back to New York?" Vic asks from behind you, voice low with sadness.
"Yes, Vic, I have to." you sigh, turning to meet her. She's dressed up in her fucsia workout gear, holding a light ring in her left hand and her phone in the right. Your flight leaves in the evening and you were hoping to have a meal with Vic before parting to the airport, but it looks like she's all booked.
"No you don't," she argues, entering the room. "Hollywood is here, y/n why do you need to go back to New York? You're an actress!"
You feel like a lot of things, except for an actress right now.
"I don't think Hollywood wants me right now, Vic," you say, going back to the unmade bed to lie down. You asked the cleaning lady if she could leave your room for last so you could finish picking your stuff up, and she agreed gently. "Plus, I really miss New York."
"y/n you haven't even visited my store, you can't go!" Vic's tone changes in octave, and it's not her whiny 'please don't do this' tone you're so used to. "I asked you for ONE favor and you're running to New York and you can't do even just that?"
"Woah, Vic, what the fuck?" you use your elbows as support to lean up and look at her. "Calm down. It's okay." you know her tantrum comes from the fact that she truly believes you could boost her beauty line sales and make her store a 'hot spot'. And it would work, for the wrong reasons. You don't want Vic being dragged down into this mess too. Mati and Charles are enough casualties.
"NO IT'S NOT!" Victoria is full-on yelling now, the light ring has been tossed aside. "I have given everything you've asked from me in the past months since your life started falling apart. I think I deserve something in return."
You ignore the bite of her words. She's angry, which is understandable to some level. She doesn't mean it, right? That she always expected something in return.
"Vic, listen, I know how important your store is to you. But I promise you, you don't want the attention I'm bringing to anyone close to me right now."
"Oh, so you're doing this for my own good now?" she scoffs, ponytail flying in the air as she turns around. "Are you fucking Charles Leclerc for his own good too? Or do men's reputations don't matter?" she spits.
You halt completely, halfway out of the mattress. "What did you say?"
"Oh, please y/n. You really want me to believe you don't want to be seen with me to 'protect me'" she throws the quotations in the air, "And yet you went on your pretty vacation with that bitch Matilde, and you talk to fucking Charles Leclerc every day!"
"Victoria, stop," your brain is a mix of anger, sadness and confusion. You’re having trouble catching up to the where the conversation is going. "That was different, Vic. In case you haven't noticed, things can't stop getting worse. My life is not good right now." You choke on the last words, because it's the first time you say such things out loud. You have never been more miserable.
Victoria scoffs yet again, and it’s a tear in your heart. She's really not backing off. "Of course your life isn't good y/n wah, wah. You have money and beauty and a pilot boyfriend, it sucks so much to be you!"
"Why are you so bothered about it? Why is Charles the main problem here?" you wipe the tears from your cheeks, scratching the skin with one of your rings. "Why the fuck are you acting like this?"
Everything was alright this morning at breakfast, when you reminded her you were leaving and your luggage was almost done. When you thanked her for taking you in and told her you could never really repay her support.
"Because you get everything you want all the time!" Victoria stomps to you, her face inches away when she stops. "You always get what you want no matter what. It didn't even matter that I said you view him as a fucking piece of meat! He still went after you."
The world moves in slow-motion as her words cascade on you. Your lungs close and your throat tightens again, and you want to fight the panic attack because you just know Victoria is not going to help you. How could she? If she's the one who betrayed you.
"How–Why–" you stutter, the hem of your shirt on your fist. You can fight this. "How could you do this to me?"
Victoria finally comes to the realization of what she let out, and covers her mouth. "y/n no– look–"
"Who told you about the ring?" your jaw is locked and you're trying not to lose focus. "How could you tell them about the ring?!"
"How could you not tell ME?! I'm your fucking best friend, you bitch!" she's raising her voice again, her surprise pushed aside because you're still fighting. "I had to find out through Aidan, months later."
The Cannes party. Of course.
You thought about asking her about it. Telling her it hurt you that she hung out so happily with Aidan when he was the reason you arrived at her house one night in February, frightened, sad, and confused. But you didn't because you trusted her. You would have trusted Victoria with your life at some point.
"It really is you, then," tears are streaming down your face again.
You feel stupid because only yesterday, in another rage-scroll through Twitter, you noticed people were already making theories about how it was Victoria who was selling information about you. And you felt so offended, how could they think your best friend would do that to you?
"How could you, Victoria? How could you make all that shit up?"
You talked to Victoria about the articles. You cried and told her you were sorry you didn’t let her in on the failed proposal, it was something you were still processing and couldn’t bring yourself to talk about, still wondering if it had been a mistake every now and then. You told her how sorry you felt to Charles because he just wanted to hang out with you—to be friends with you—and people marked him down as a home wrecker when he had nothing to do with it.
“It was definitely Mia though, wasn’t it?” She said as she rubbed your back and passed the box of tissues to you. “She always hated you, so weird. It was like she loved Aidan in a fucked up way.” Victoria even shuddered exaggeratedly, trying to make you laugh.
“Yeah I’m sure it was Mia, Aidan just won’t admit it.” You let her wipe your tears and smooth your hair down. Nobody could convince you that your ex-sister-in-law didn’t run to People and spewed shit. It was the most logical conclusion that Aidan was protecting his little sister.
This had been three days ago, she lied and made fun of you, to your face.
"So now I'm a liar? You are fucking Charles Leclerc! Or what, you expect me to believe all you do is hold hands and peck each other's cheeks?"
Again with Charles, it infuriates you.
"You told the press I'm a cheater! And I am NOT with Charles, God you're so stupid!"
"How would I know whether it's true or not? You never tell me anything anymore, do you? You don't care about me! I'm your best friend. I deserve to be your priority!"
"You deserve to rot in hell, you lying bitch." you don't even raise your voice anymore, "How could I ever love you?"
Victoria laughs, and your heart finally shatters. "I would do it again, y/n, because it's what you forced me to do."
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The apartment is a mess, and you know it's on purpose. Your clothes are everywhere, the dirt from the plants you kept on the balcony is all over the floor, the coffee table is broken and your room looks like a hurricane passed through. Your coffee maker and your Specialty coffee both lie on the floor of the kitchen, and there is a horrible smell coming from the fridge. Aidan hasn't been gone long enough for things to rot to that extent, especially because every appliance is plugged in.
You don't want to look at the rest of the house, or your belongings. All you do is lean down to pick up your Moka pot, and make time to think, but you're unable to stand straight again. It's like the pain is pulling you down. How did your life become this?
A ruined apartment, a rejected engagement and a backstabbing best friend are things that happen in the movies. You would know. This wasn't supposed to happen to you.
Crying in that ruined kitchen, holding a Moka pot like it's your greatest treasure and not some piece of trash that you will never be able to use anymore, you get angry, furious. Because this is not your life and it was never supposed to be. And it's about time you start doing something about it.
You are sick of running. Of having people question you for not 'defending' yourself when you have no reason to be attacked in the first place. Relationships die, and yours had been past its time to be buried. Saying no is not a crime. And it never will be.
Victoria had burned her own thread with you in the worst way possible because you didn't make her the only person in your life. And you had overlooked every time you felt used by her, unloved, and tossed aside. Friends can break your heart too, and Victoria had ripped yours out of your chest.
Nobody has to tell you who you are, because you know. And you are nothing of what you've let tabloids, netizens and reporters say. You cannot keep running and you cannot keep hiding, and though you wish you had understood that earlier. It's never too late to pick yourself up.
Mildred and Walter are going to be pissed, but their advice was that you remained lowkey for however long it took Hollywood to get their next big scandal. Weeks, months, years.
And you're not about to scurry away into darkness like a rat.
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FROM “JUST WATCH THIS” POSTED IN Y/N Y/LN'S YOUTUBE CHANNEL POSTED JUNE 12TH
[y/n,minute 01:30]: ❝...So I've finally decided to come here and tell you everything that has been happening for the past months. It's the truth, but whether you believe it is a personal choice.❞
[y/n,minute 05:56]: ❝It was a three-year dead-end relationship. You cannot, and should not, have a future with someone who laughs at your dreams, and tells you how you should behave and how to look to exalt him.❞
[y/n, minute 07:15]: ❝I said no. And I have not regret it for one second. I didn't tell anyone because I respect Aidan, although I don't think that is reciprocal by now.❞
[y/n, minute 10:01]: ❝I never cheated on him, and I know the source of those rumors. It breaks my heart to know that someone I trusted made up stuff about myself, and a part of my life that was so important to me. I am not telling you who it was, however, I will take legal action against them if the defamation continues.❞
[y/n, minute 14:54]: ❝Aidan decided to tell this person about our failed engagement, and I do not know if his intention was that this all became public. But I wish he'd been mature enough to handle it privately, like the adults we both are.❞
[y/n, minute 16:59]: ❝I started attending Formula 1 races because of an Ambassador contract I held with Elix until three days ago, when they decided to rescind it.❞
[y/n, minute 18:07]: ❝That's where I met both Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, back in April. Since they are the drivers for Ferrari, we spent a lot of time in the same place, which led to us becoming friends.���
[y/n, minute 19:04]: ❝Charles Leclerc is my friend and we are not romantically involved, I urge you to stop making stuff up about him too. He never messed with my past relationship, we did not know each other.❞
[y/n, minute 21:55]: ❝When all of this started, I believed—naively— that it could just die down on its own. I am an actress. I was not only 'Aidan Kim's girlfiend' and I am not only his ex-girlfriend now. I am y/n y/ln.❞
[y/n, minute 23:31]: ❝I should have spoken sooner. I should have shut everything down the moment I started feel miserable and out of control. But I also know, I was being crucified so badly because I am a woman.❞
[y/n, minute 26:00]: ❝You have made me feel miserable and anxious, I have suffered from panic attacks and sleepless nights. And I'm not saying this to make you all feel bad and regretful, because the one thing you lack the most is empathy.❞
[y/n, minute 28:45]: ❝But I want you all to think that, if it had been the other way around and Aidan hadn't wanted to marry me, you would have said 'he wasn't ready' and you would have let him move on and find "The One" in peace.❞
[y/n, minute 31:35]: ❝If it was Timothee Chalamet—whom I also have a deep appreciation for—doing RomComs and nothing more, you would call it 'his specialty' and never question his talent.❞
[y/n, minute 33:17]: ❝If I was a man, this wouldn't have killed my reputation.❞
[y/n, minute 36:21]: ❝I will not remain quiet anymore while you step on me and diminish my work. I do not owe anything to Aidan Kim except for the drama the past months have brought me.❞
[y/n, minute 38:11]: ❝I'm going to focus on the future. And I am well aware this will be continue to be a topic of conversation, but I am not scared anymore. Because I know who I am and who I can count on.❞
[y/n, minute 40:12]: ❝If it weren't for my fans, who have been fighting my battles so hard, I wouldn't be here either. They're here for me, and I can never repay such pure love.❞
[y/n, minute 42:22]: ❝If you watched up to here, I'm sure you're wondering whether you should believe all of this, and like I said, it's all up to you❞
[y/n, minute 44:50]: ❝I will not be speaking about Aidan Kim again, so I ask you to refrain from asking about him. It's all been said and done, and I'm eager to move on.❞
[END]
You are looking at the all the comments.
aidanbabes WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BITCH EVEN ON
flowerbedkim Oh so now Aidan forced her to be with him? Bullshit. You are never saving your lying ass y/n, fuck you!!!!!
thatbitch123 You are absolutely right y/n if you were a man this wouldn’t have happened it's so sad
ynbabes2 my queen i waited for you to speak for so long!!! WE HAVE TO MOVE ON FROM THIS
leclercstar you all have made this girl's life absolute hell, i hope you never find peace!! I'm glad she's friends with Charles and Carlos.
presleyvibes wait and you thank people but not Vic who let you stay at her house? you're an ungrateful bitch
albstappen I saw her pic with Lily Muni and I just knew she was one of the good ones
ynmybeloved EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST YN SHALL FALL
kim41d4an IT'S YOUR WORD AGAINST AIDAN'S YOU CHEATING WHORE
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June 12th, SoHo, New York.
You are trying to clean the mess around you as best you can. And although you could call someone to help you, sweeping and scrubbing keeps you busy and distracted. The first message you received after posting the video was from Mati a 'proud of you xx, tell me all about it later please!' text that made you take your first deep breath of the afternoon. You made an appointment with a doctor first thing in the morning, you want the panic to go away, you need it to.
Thoughts of how they're destroying you again, calling you a liar and a whore, swarm your brain and you try to toss them in the trash along with your ruined Dolce & Gabbana coat, mysteriously cut up with scissors. You told the truth, and not even the whole of it.
The video is being shown everywhere, you're sure you'll see it tomorrow in Good Morning America where they'll dissect every single move you make and every word that comes out of your mouth.
It's almost 9 pm when you finally stop wiping the apartment down, trying to get rid of every sign that Aidan Kim was ever inside it. It's not true that he paid for the apartment, you picked it yourself and made it a home and then he chose to come and live here, paying the rent once every three to five months. This is your home and you are reclaiming it.
Your phone rings and you take another deep breath before picking it up. Mildred and Walter have resorted to communicate with you through email, so you wonder who it is. Victoria called a few times during the weekend, left voicemails and text messages until you blocked her. Each of them with a new excuse and a more creative way to pin all of what she had done, on you.
It's a FaceTime call from Charles.
"Charlie!" you greet with a smile, before the image of him loads completely. "It's 3 am in Monaco, what the hell are you doing awake?"
Charles shrugs and you notice his bare shoulders, he's shirtless. You're suddenly self-conscious about the way you look. With your hair sticking up from the sweat, your greasy face and ragged shirt. It's a silly worry.
"I wanted to talk to you," he says, and you know he's tired. "I saw your video earlier, but I was doing something else."
"Oh, you saw that."
"I'm proud of you y/n, you are brave for speaking your mind like that. I know it must have taken some effort." Charles moves again and you see his chest, he's already in bed.
"Charles, go to sleep, we can talk about this later," you chuckle, heat is rising to your face.
"I wanted to see you y/n, it doesn't matter what time it is. And I really wanted to tell you I'm glad you posted that video."
"Thank you, Charlie. I should have done it sooner."
"The only one who knows what timing is right for you, is yourself."
"Yeah, I guess so." you sigh, you're exhausted too and you blame it more on the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through than deep cleaning your apartment.
"Are you tired?" he asks, suppressing a yawn.
"No more than you," you retort, but can't help yawning as well. It's a scientific fact that yawns are contagious. "Go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow."
You talked yesterday too, and the day before, and you cried so much on the phone again you thought he would eventually hang up until you calmed down. But Charles soothed you through the phone at 1 am Monaco time and told you to let it all out, and listened without interrupting you once how you called Aidan and Victoria every name in the book.
"Fine," Charles says, rubbing his left eye carelessly. "Will you give me a tour of your apartment tomorrow, then?"
"Yes! I finished cleaning it today!"
Charles laughs softly at your excitement. “We’ll talk tomorrow then, just because you need to sleep.”
“Sure I am the sleepy one,” you roll your eyes and Charles smiles, both dimples showing. “Goodnight Charlie, sweet dreams.” The last part you say it in a slightly mocking tone but Charles doesn’t take it as such, smile widening.
“Goodnight soleil,” he says and waits a few seconds for you to react to your newly given nickname before hanging up, anxious but satisfied.
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─── team principal radio: ❝thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are liking the story so far. We're slowly getting to the y/n redemption. Once again, i really appreciate all of your interactions they mean the world to me. Also check out the series playlist if you haven't♡❞
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abbysdolly · 4 months
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୨ ℛ𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℐ𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑡 ୧
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˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Abigail, the best soldier in w.l.f has an encounter with a Seraphite girl, her enemy. She could attack, but she didn't, why? She didn't knew but soon after everything made sense, suddenly she was Romeo.
˗ˏˋ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mature content +18, MDNI, canon violence, mentions of blood, use of a knife as a weapon, reader is referred to "the girl", reader is a Scar, death of a canon character (not Abby), enemies to lovers kinda? Let me know if I should add another thing! ౨ৎ
˗ˏˋ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫´𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hiii! ♡ this is the longest fic I ever wrote hehe, hope you all like this little twist I made in the story! I wrote this after a big writers block so forgive me if it's not the best! Also it isn't proofread so there could be some errors because English is not my first language >.< If you like it please like, reblog and comment! xoxo ♡
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"𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝛪 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝒉𝑒𝑛 𝛪 𝑚𝑒𝑡 𝒉𝑒𝑟, 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒. 𝑊𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝒉 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑔𝒉𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦..."
⊹   ᳝ ࣪ ♡ ࣪   ᳝ ⊹
Her voice echoed like the sweet melody of an early bird, her eyes pleaded for help or simply just for mercy.
A now forgotten white cotton blouse viciously adorned with crimson droplets of who knows how many people, thankfully all that blood wasn't hers.
It was almost mystical how the blonde found her; soft-looking face full of dirt, hair in a beautiful mess and tears falling like cascades from her mysterious eyes, sitting in the grass with wildflowers surrounding her. Similar to the numerous injured deers she rescued with her father, a misty memory she treasured jealousy.
"Please, help me" the injured girl begged. Looking into the blonde's eyes in a desperate attempt of human empathy, innocently hoping to find some relief in another human.
The blonde inspected the injured girl, cold blue eyes searching for any sign of lies and also weapons but there was none of that, the girl's sweet voice sounded with undeniable need and her trembling hands holding her twisted ankle showed clearly that she hadn't any weapons near her.
"Are you a Scar? Why are you here if your people are miles away?" The blonde girl barked. Adrenaline still rushed through her veins, her years of training showed in the way her strong hands holded her rifle against her front, always ready to attack.
"Seraphite. And yes I am... Was, I ran away. I can't be with them anymore." The injured girl shivered as she explained to the blonde. Tears washing the dirt off of her cheeks and neck, making the blonde stare for a little too long.
"I'm not bit or armed, I just need help with my ankle. I ran almost all day and I accidentally twisted it a few hours ago. I can't stand on foot and I need to go somewhere safer" the injured girl spoke again. Her eyes drifted to the blonde's arms, to her rifle and to her piercing eyes. She wondered if her prayers were answered, and if they did she was certainly seeing her savior angel in front of her, with long golden hair and deep blue eyes like the sky at night, full of mystery.
The blonde stared and stared, her exterior looked angry and tough but in her mind she was having a whole battle. The thought of helping that girl was fighting with her "duty" that was imposed by a man who wanted just to massacre and murder people for a territory that in reality wasn't of someone in the first place.
"Please, soldier" the injured girl begged again. The blonde girl blinked as soon as she heard that soft voice again, her thoughts temporarily subsided by those teary eyes staring at her.
The blonde didn't respond, instead she just put her rifle on her shoulder and kneeled gently next to the injured girl. This was so new to her, she was the best and most deadly soldier in the QZ, she never showed mercy before. Why did she suddenly have the need to help someone? Especially one of the people she considerate the lowest of all. The blonde didn't knew but a small part of her felt powerful for doing that, she felt capable of doing more than chaos and death.
The blonde girl took a few bandages of her washed out green backpack and began to roll the thin white material around the ankle of the injured girl. She did it as gently as possible, it was almost sweet due to her big and tough appearance.
"What's your name?" The injured girl asked in a gentle whisper. She watched how carefully the blonde was and also how the blonde's features were hardened but strangely sweet and angelic, a beautiful mixture of deadly beauty and danger.
The blonde stopped her actions, surprised by the sudden curiosity of the mysterious girl. She turned her attention now to those beautiful doe eyes that magically weren't pooled with tears anymore.
"Abby" the blonde whispered back, soft and warm voice filled the cold air. She watched intently how her eyes told her many things.
"Thank you, Abby" A gentle smile appeared on the other girl's slightly chapped lips. The blonde's face mimiqued the action with a slight blush on her nose and cheeks, accentuating her freckles. Abby felt so lost, she felt that she hadn't control of her body. Those strange feelings were more than new to the blonde, she felt so different like she wasn't her anymore.
The moment went as fast as it came, in the form of hurried whistles and crushing leaves. The remaint group of Scars in that place were persistent, and they searched for the girl who was a traitor, an apostate.
"Fuck, we need to get out of this place, we're too exposed" Abby whispered hurriedly, taking her backpack and weapons with rush. She looked down at the girl on the floor, poorly trying to stand up but it was no case. Her muscles were too sore to even try to stand up.
"We can go there, that way there are some hidden cabins that the elder used as ceremony places, they're abandoned we can hide there" the mysterious girl explained. Abby wanted to think this was a lie, that it could be some sort of ambush but the other part of her brain said that she needed to believe her again.
Without a warning, the blonde lifted the girl from the ground so easily. The mysterious girl gasped at the sudden action but didn't complain, she just limited herself to cross her arms behind the blonde's broad shoulders. The air filled with tension and a certain awkwardness from both parts. Surely Abby had helped some other soldiers in patrols, even helped them to get rid of their clothes to treat their wounds but this time she didn't feel the same, she suddenly was hyper aware of her moves and how skin collided with skin.
୨ 🔨 ୧
After what it felt like an eternity, Abby and the other girl were now inside one of those ceremony cabins. Thanks to Abby the windows and door were barricaded with different wooden furniture. The abandonment evident in the rotten flowers near some sort of paint of a woman with a divine halo; The Prophet.
"They haven't come here since I can remember, it's too far from our campsite so they won't find us here" the mysterious girl explained. Her figure resting on a chair near a table as Abby stood in front of her, backpack and guns still on as she crossed her muscled arms.
Abby wasn't really proud of this situation, she always accomplished her missions, she did what she was told and not more. She got used to it after almost seven years of doing the same routine. At least that kept all those negative thoughts and anxiety on border.
The blonde's eyes didn't leaved the girl at any moment, her soldier brain told her to kill her, to get back at base and recover that sense of had "cleaned" everything, but the truth was that she felt curious about the girl, she wanted to know why she suddenly deserted. There was something about that girl that caught Abby's attention bladly.
"Why did you leave your people?" Abby asked. Her voice was husky enough to cause the other girl to squirm nervously in the chair.
"I was one of the many people taking care of the elders and children. I knew our people prepared soldiers but they only said it was just to defend our people from the Demons, until I found a letter saying we were in a war with some group of people and we needed to kill them all... even children and women, innocent people. So I ran away just in time when those people arrived to the Island" the mysterious girl explained. Her face and especially her eyes showed a deep sadness and a deeper disgust.
The explanation caught Abby out of guard, how could a Scar not know the actual state of the growing tension between Wolves and Scars? How could someone be so stupid to not know? Certainly this was a situation that Abby didn't knew how to deal with.
"I thought all your people wanted to kill everyone who weren't into your fucking religious stuff" Abby scoffed. Half smile and voice tone sarcastic as ever, the comment came almost without thinking and as the girl's eyes grew watery again she knew she fucked up, her and her sarcastic humor always finding the worst timing to appear.
"We aren't like that, at least not all of us. They just twisted her texts, If she were here all those conflicts would have disappeared" the Scar girl whispered. Her gaze relied on the worn out mural painted into the wooden wall. The image of that woman smiling so sweetly and showing both her hands made Abby want to puke, she was tired of that same image and those same stupid prayers everybody recited after their last breath.
The blonde remain in silence, opting to just sit on another chair near the window to search for any sign of Scars, Infected or Wolves. She couldn't get involved with a Scar, no, because surely Isaac would kill her before hearing a reasonable explanation.
୨ 🔨 ୧
The gloomy and freezing night came and with it, a sharp muscle pai too. Abby was beyond tired, she left the base a week ago and since then she had no real breaks, just occasional naps in abandoned buildings with her patrol group. Speaking of them, they surely were searching for her and wondering how the hell she went through "another path" in the woods.
Abby layed on the floor, unfolding a small sleeping bag out of her backpack, ready to have some sleep and hopefully forget about the pain in her back and legs.
The mysterious girl did the same, laying on the floor with nothing to keep her warm. She was squirming on the floor, trying to hug herself to feel her own body heat. Abby and the girl haven't spoken since that conversation they had a few hours ago but Abby couldn't help looking at the girl and feel pity.
"Here... Use it to keep you warm" Abby spoke as she handed her black jacket to the girl.
The girl took it with caution at first but then she just didn't care anymore, she was freezing and she needed it. She put on the jacket, this last one almost swallowing her whole frame but at least she was getting warmer.
A Scar wearing a Wolf jacket, really ironic.
"Thank you, Abby. I'll give it back to you in the morning" the girl answered as she got back down to her previous position, ready to sleep and hopefully find some peace in the events she had been through these past hours.
୨ 🔨 ୧
The night passed by as fast as a shooting star, the distant chirp of birds and warm bits of sunlight were a gentle call to wake up.
The Seraphite's eyes opened slowly, a soft groan escaped through her lips. The aftermath of all that happened yesterday in the presence of sore muscles and low energy.
She sat up, the blonde's jacket hugging her body and dipping her in a spiral of scents; Pine, dirt and a slight touch of gunpowder. Speaking of the owner, she wasn't there, no sight of her belongings, no sight of her, just that forgotten item and the bandages resting on the girl's ankle.
Anxiety built deep inside the girl's chest, she was facing the consequences of her previous acts, she was alone. A part of her mind scolded herself for thinking that Wolf would've stayed with her, for thinking with so much innocence.
Her ankle was a lot better than the day before but she wasn't sure of what to do, she survived and that was beyond her expectations. Her hands shook as they clinged to the jacket, she watched out the window but there was nothing to see, she was gone.
୨ 🔨 ୧
Those eyes, those beautiful eyes. So deep almost she could see her reflection in them, so crystal clear. Two little windows to the shiny galaxies, reflecting in a deep beauty even the most lethal human being, Abigail.
And oh her voice as sweet as a juicy peach in summer season, sweeter than the purest maple syrup in the whole world, calming like the morning breeze. Maybe all of that caused Abby to feel guilt of leaving the girl there, or maybe all of that caused something deeper and complex inside her that Abby wasn't able to understand.
"What the fuck am I doing? Shit, Abby" the blonde muttered to herself as she walked to the cabin. The outside looked the same after four days, Abby knew the girl could not be there but she tried to console herself repeating that 'there was a chance'.
"Please be there, Please be there" again, the blonde muttered. She gently knocked the door, there was a tense silence and then the door opened slowly. It was her, the girl, she had a wooden stick in her hands, something to defend herself.
"Abby?" the girl whispered. She lowered the stick and kept looking at the blonde, her wide eyes full of hope. A new found spark in them.
"Hi" the blonde smiled sincerely and continued "Are you alright? I thought you wouldn't be here, staying here is too risky" Abby's voice was shaky, she felt like a sick dog wanting to jump to the girl's bones and drag her out of that rotten cabin.
"I was going to but I was too scared to leave the cabin by myself" the girl explained as she opened the door fully. "Why are you here, Abby?" she continued, resting the stick on the table. And there was Abby's jacket, doing the same thing it did four days ago, keeping the girl warm.
"I'm giving you a chance. You'll go with me" Abby answered. Her voice was firm, she wasn't asking, she was commanding.
"What? Where? Abby, if your people see me they're gonna kill me with no hesitation!" The girl's voice was filled with desperation and fear. A Scar in a Wolf territory? Unthinkable!
"I know, I know but listen to me. I know a place, you could be safe there. I just– I can't let you here all by yourself" Abby spoke. Her jaw clenched tight, searching for the best way to say it, looking into the other girl's eyes wanting to communicate just by it.
"Why?" the girl answered. Abby blinked as soon as she heard it. Why? Why was she doing all of this?
Abby couldn't speak or think straight, her eyes searched for an answer in the worn out image of The Prophet, in the rotten flowers, in her jacket resting in the table, in the eyes of that girl.
"Because– I don't know, to lighten the load I guess. I want to do something right for the first time in ages" the blonde confessed. Her mind was still in a constant dilemma but she was sure at least that she wanted to do something different, to take a different path just like she did when she found the girl.
The girl didn't respond but her eyes never left Abby's. The blonde could feel how her eyes could read her entirely, she swore those pretty eyes could disarm her in mere seconds. Oh those eyes.
୨ 🔨 ୧
"Stay behind me, be careful and watch for any sign of infected or people. You know how to fight?" The blonde whispered. Both of them were outside the cabin.
"Just the basics I think, but don't worry about me I'll help you if we cross with Demons" the girl whispered back. Her body was framed with Abby's jacket, shaky hands holding the wooden stick and doe eyes looking at Abby. She was clearly scared and Abby knew it.
୨ 🔨 ୧
The golden light was already gone, the sound of leaves crushing with every step grew louder as the night approached. The minimum noise made Abby hold her gun tighter and point to the place where the sound came from, she was more focused than she normally was, she felt fear for the first time in so long.
Everything was quiet, oddly quiet. It had passed at least two hours and according to Abby they were really close to 'that place' she kept talking about during the walk. Everything was quiet, oddly quiet, until it wasn't.
"We are just a few minutes away from it, We can– shit! Get down!" Abby whispered hurriedly. She and the girl used an abandoned car as cover, a group of Scars were patrolling near an area full of containers.
"Fuck, we have to pass through them, it's the only way" Abby spoke again. Her gun ready, taking glances at the group of Scars from time to time "Okay, this is what we're gonna do. We're going to sneak and kill those two guys on the left and there we can cover with those containers, as for the rest leave them to me, got it?" There was that commanding Abby again, and it was fascinating to the other girl.
The girl nodded, too focused on the whole change in the blonde's demeanor. Her voice deep and firm, her eyes darker and her features getting even more sharped if that was actually possible.
Abby sneaked behind some other cars getting nearer to that area, followed closely by the girl. The tension and fear were palpable, sweaty palms holding to dear life to a gun and to a wooden stick.
The blonde nodded to the girl and in a blink she got one of the men from behind, her bicep making pressure into the man's neck and in seconds he was gone, as if his neck was a mere toothpick, so easily.
The girl watched it all, she saw how Abby ended a life like a cold war machine. How Abby killed one of "her people" and she was going to do the same, she had to do the same.
Abby did all automatically, it was the same to her. Infected or not infected, she couldn't care less but the Seraphite girl wasn't like that.
"Use this to kill that guy, I'll kill the other ones. We got this" Abby whispered. Her big hand wrapped the girl's, giving her a knife she had found somewhere and as she did this her grip was tighter, encouraging the poor and terrified girl to kill.
Everything happened so fast, Abby was gone dealing with other Scars as the girl got closer to the man, her hands shook and tears threatened to come out. Then everything went downhill.
The girl tried to grab the man from behind just like Abby but it was obviously impossible to recreate what the blonde did. The girl sneaked her arms on the man's neck trying to stab him but the man threw her away as soon as he felt her, whistling hurriedly and walking to the girl, ready to attack her.
The sudden shock of what happened made the girl act by pure instinct, she crawled to reach the knife and when she did nothing was going to be the same. The man turned her around violently and as soon as he did the girl stabbed him in the neck.
She choked a moan of disgust and fear, blood dripping from her face as well as tears. The eyes of the man lost their shine, losing the life on them as well as his body. The girl froze instantly at the realization of what happened, of what she did, she swore she wouldn't be like those who called her family before, she swore she was going to be better than them and there she was, she took a life.
As soon as Abby noticed and heard the whistles she ran, searching for the girl. She found her there on the floor with a dead Scar on top of her.
"Hey, hey– Are you okay? Fuck" the blonde breathed as she throw the dead body to the side and helped the girl to be on her feet again.
Panic, fear and disgust filled the girl's eyes, she kept crying as Abby spoke again "Hey, look at me, look at me. We need to move now, we're close" Abby's hands tried to wipe the blood out of the girl's face, guilt covering her heart once again. She knew that wasn't easy at first.
୨ 🔨 ୧
"What are you thinking? You seem a bit off since this morning" the blonde asked. The book she was reading was now closed on the table.
"Oh sorry, I just– I was thinking of when we met and all the crazy things that happened after" the girl answered. A small smile appeared on her plush lips.
The time passed faster than the girls intended. After arriving at the aquarium the bond between Abby and the Scar girl grew and grew.
Abby explained to her how that place was discovered a long time ago from one of her good friends named Owen, who soon after she awkwardly confessed that he was her romantic interest when she was younger, but after his mysterious death she had claimed the aquarium as her personal place to recover when everything was too much. The blonde also showed some pictures of her other friends, from the W.L.F too. Abby and her soon found calm in each other, a friendship blossomed from all the disgrace, death and sadness.
But nothing was that easy. The Wolves were searching for Abby as soon as the rumors ran across the FOB halls, everyone talked about how Abby betrayed them just for a Scar. Abby had to constantly go out the aquarium and kill whatever thing threatened to disturb both her and the girl, it didnn't matter if they were infected or people from both groups, Scars and Wolves. It was a miracle that the only few people that knew about the aquarium wouldn't say anything because Abby was their friend.
“Yeah,” the blonde chuckled. “Everything happened so fast. When was that? Like five months ago?” She looked at the girl and smiled. That was something she did more, smile.
“Yeah, but in those few months I've learned more than all my years in this world” the girl answered between giggles. And she was true, Abby had taught her a few self-defense things, she taught her how to use a gun and how to fight if she needed to and the girl was beyond thankful for everything.
“Well, you've learned from the best fucking soldier in Seattle” the blonde answered back. A cocky smile appeared on her face as she crossed her arms and groaned when her back touched the old couch.
“Whatever you say, Anderson!” The girl rolled her eyes at the usual antics of the blonde. She walked close to Abby, sitting on the other side of the couch, “You're such a goober” the girl whispered, looking at the blonde with a deep admiration, and other things. A warm smile on her lips.
“Hey! That's my word!” Abby gasped fakely. Another gorgeous smile appeared on her lips. She turned to the side to see the girl properly, the side of her face resting on her strong bicep just as the girl did.
Both admired each other's features, silently bathing in each other's presence. Abby and the girl developed the habit of talking with their eyes, a short look and they already knew it all.
Abby knew that this “friendship” was more than that, she felt it. After a couple of weeks after being with the girl in the aquarium she knew that the feeling in her chest wasn't just a platonic feeling, it was beyond that. Especially at night when the awful memories came back in the form of chaotic nightmares, for both of them, but the warm embraces melted every nightmare and fear.
Abby caught herself thinking about the girl when she read a classic novel or sometimes she stared too much at the girl when she was brushing her hair or was cooking. Oh and it was even more evident when a blushed Abby directed the girl's body when they were training, it was all the time and she knew the girl felt the same way she did, her flushed cheeks and shy smiles when Abby praised her for doing something correctly, or when she wrapped her arms around the blonde's torso at night.
“Thank you, Abby” the girl whispered. Her hand reached Abby's, softly running circles on her palm and there was again that soft blush on the girl's cheeks, the exact same way when Abby found her.
“Why are you thanking me?” the blonde answered. Her brows furrowed with confusion.
“For everything you gave me and you still do. And because you didn't kill me that day” the voice of the girl broke like thin glass. Abby felt a lump in her throat, glossy eyes and mouth agape at the girl’s words.
“I– You don't need to thank me. I do this because I l– because I care for you!” The blonde stuttered with her own words. Her heart beated wildly inside her strong chest, she wanted to say more but she simply couldn't.
Abby wanted to scream all her feelings, to name whatever she was feeling. But for a reason it was so hard, even when she had that teenage romance with Owen she didn't feel like this, not even a little.
Sometimes at night Abby had to wake up and go to her little bookshelf to read something to distract her mind, she even roamed the aquarium wanting to do dumb things and distract herself from the pretty image of the girl sleeping so peacefully next to her. “Damn it Abby, why did you bring the brilliant idea of asking her to sleep on the same bed?” The blonde thought, every night.
“I know, Abigail,” the girl whispered back. The hand that was touching Abby's was now gently stroking Abby's cheek. Her soft skin kissing the blonde's face, her fleckles deep and a mauve color adorning her nose and cheeks. The way the girl said “Abigail” felt so intimate, just her father called her like that and that was at least ten years ago.
The girl didn't allow Abby to react or respond, she got off the couch and smiled. The girl walked to the little room they designated to cook.
୨ 🔨 ୧
Dinner went normal, and for normal we could say just Abby being a little awkward as the girl talked about different recipe books she had found.
“Can I show you something? I know you like when I read out loud and uhm– I remembered that I wanted to read you something” the blonde spoke. She and the girl were cleaning the dinner dishes.
“Oh I would love that, Abby. Please show me” the girl answered. Her voice filled with curiosity as her eyes lit up. Abby loved seeing her like that.
“Okay, leave this for tomorrow yeah? This is important” Abby's voice showed her nervousness and all the emotions she tried to swallow deep deep down. She took the hand of the girl and dragged her to the room they had to sleep, the girl laughed softly and almost ran in contrast to the long and fast steps Abby gave.
“Abby, you're going to make me fall!” the girl said between giggles “what's something so important that you are practically making me run?” the girl spoke again. A foolish smile appeared on her face.
“Just sit here and listen to it, please. It's important to me” the blonde answered back. Her voice and stern face made the girl's smile drop in a look of concern.
Abby's hands pushed the girl's shoulders down to make her sit on the neat bed, then she took a small storage box where she kept her favorite books, classics novels that belonged to her father and she could keep them thanks to Mel, one of her friends.
“I've read this book a couple of times. I always thought it was too dramatic or corny compared to how I saw life years ago. But now it makes sense, and it feels so amazingly strange, you know?” the blonde explained. A copy of Romeo & Juliet was in between her hands as she sat on a chair in front of the girl.
The girl didn't understood too much at the beginning, surely Abby was acting a little bit strange and that made her heart beat wildly inside her chest.
And as for Abby, she was so nervous and tried to stay focused on what her heart, mind and body wanted to say.
“So the other day reading it again I felt something warm on my chest, I felt like something clicked in my head. And I needed to tell you before it's too late, listen carefully please” the blonde finally looked at the girl. The dim light of the room made the situation more intimate, as if it was just them in the whole world.
“I will, Abby,” the girl answered. Her voice as sweet as ever.
The blonde smiled with shyness but opened the book in the page she had put a paper on to remember it. And then she proceeded to read out loud, soft and velvety voice adorned the background with a sweet melody of words.
“But soft, what light through the yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that you, her maid, are far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off” the blonde read it with emotion filling her chest, her voice was sweet as her gloomy blue eyes danced across the letters, her grip tight and her cheeks warm and pink.
The girl listened to Abby, focused and instantly warped around her as Abby's voice seemed to put the girl in a trance, Abby's words echoed on the girl's brain and heart.
“It is my lady. Oh it is my love. Oh, that she knew she were, she speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it” she paused. Looking up to the girl to see if she felt that feeling coming up from her stomach to her chest and to finally her throat. And she smiled again when she saw how the girl's eyes glowed like the pretty moonlight, like the chaotic fire. And Abby knew the girl felt the same as her.
“I am too bold. ‘Tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, there in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the air region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were day and not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand, oh that I were the glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek…” Abby read. Her cheeks got even more reddish and her gaze positioned on the girl's form, again. Nervousness eating her from the inside.
“Oh Abby,” the girl whispered. She got up from the bed and gave short little steps to be right in front of Abby, closer than before. The delicate hand of the girl took Abby's making her look up from her position in the chair, admiring the delicate and serenity in the girl's face, her dark eyes were capable of making the burning fire in the blonde's heart burn wildly.
The Seraphite girl smiled, oh that sweet smile that Abby adored a lot, and as she did so her arms instantly wrapped Abby in a tight embrace. The blonde's face rested in the girl's chest hearing the melody inside it, her fears no longer important, her feelings clearer, her heart raced with happiness and everything because of her. Her own Juliet.
“It makes sense now because I feel like Romeo, I understand him! I envy the sunlight that caresses your skin, I envy the moonlight who can make your eyes shine like stars, I–” the blonde paused her rambling. She stood up, taking in between her large hands the girl's face, and continued, “I love you” she whispered. Her face inches apart from the girl's, baby hairs framed her beautiful face as her nose gently caressed the girl's.
“I know, Abby. I always knew it because I feel just the same, you were my savior angel, and I will always be thankful for that. I love you, I love you, I love you” the girl confessed. Her own hands caressing Abby's face, bathing in the deep ocean in the blonde's eyes, her dump kissing little scars on the blonde's cheek, scars of long forgotten fights, of forgotten sadness.
Abby leaned to kiss the girl. The most precious and sweet of the kisses, lips exploring the other ones with such passion and love. A first kiss that told more than all the romantic novels in Abby's bookshelf, calm after the storm, igniting fire building on their bodies.
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Thank you for reading! Any like, reblog or comment are really appreciated, have a good day/night and don´t forget to drink water! love ya! ♡
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sleepyangelkami · 11 months
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you totally don’t have to take this into consideration at all but what if in the pastors daughter pt3 there’s ANGST. maybe readers parents find out and try to punish/harm her but ellie comes to the rescue 🫡
PASTORS DAUGHTER III (e.w)
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a/n: here me out... angst AND smut! tysm anon i love this idea!
pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader.
summary: you have a secret, one only few people could know, what would happen if the preacher found out that his daughter was dating such a dilinquent, or more importantly a girl. ellie williams doesn't hesitate to jump in when she finds you and your parents in your bedroom after your sister let your secret out. some smut at the end because you're all waiting for it.
warnings: innocent reader, smut, angst, violence, fighting, yelling, unpacking heavy homophobia, use of a slur, mentions of blood, physical violence, making out, innocence kink, corruption kink, kina size kink if you squint, fingering and oral (r. recieving), scissoring, kinda sub!reader and dom!ellie, my shitty writing, my also unawareness of anything in a catholic church (i'm literally catholic), intended lower case.
series masterlist
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you never kept secrets. when you were young, you did everything in your will to keep your mouth shut but you were a blabbermouth, you couldn't help the words tumbling out from your lips. if someone were to ask you what your deepest darkest secret was, your lips would screw shut because truly, you never did keep secrets. any secrets kept from your parents, were secrets that not even your mind was fully able to comprehend, something you had not yet accepted about yourself.
but this. this was your favourite secret of all time.
it all happened so fast. how ellie once was your sisters best friend, the one in which would call you pretty names, have you a blushing mess before she even glanced sideways at you. and now, she was the same girl pulling you away from the others at school just to kiss you.
kissing. that had to be your favourite part.
call it what you want. some may say that you were so drunk off her kisses because you had never been kissed before, the feeling so foreign however you knew what the problem was, not that it was a problem at all. ellie knew how to kiss, better than anyone else in the world, you guessed. her tongue didn't bother fight for dominance, it slipped in so easily and you let it, you let her explore your mouth as crude sounds fell from your lips. you were drunk off her lips, the way they could kiss you so roughly, having you sitting with your hands placed on her shoulders to keep you up for you had chose kissing the girl over breathing a long time ago. the way she would kiss you so gently when she wished, whether she was leaving you off to class, pretending to brush something off your shoulders as she dipped her head down, a chaste kiss against your lips. you could drown in them, you were sure. in fact, you could drown in anything related to ellie, you'd die a happy woman. ellie williams had single handedly wrapped you around her finger and all it took was a mere kiss. if she had known this, she would have done it a long time ago.
however, it was still but a secret. you acted as though you were mere acquaintances in public, a small smile and a nod. but when she got you alone, god when she got you alone she couldn't help but ravish you. after all, she had been wanting you all day.
though it was a secret, it wasn't just you and ellie who were aware of the relationship. ashley had been over the moon when you had announced it and ever since then she had been asking both you and ellie about every little detail of the relationship. she was a fangirl, and you were her favourite couple. and, of course, joel miller had been made aware almost instantly.
you giggled, seated on your girlfriends bed, fiddling with the weird ball she had just given you. she made it a habit to hand you strange toys and watch your face try to figure out what it was in the most humorous way known to man. you were still getting used to being in a relationship. having a girlfriend. but with ellie, you didn't feel guilty for it didn't feel as if anything was wrong with what you were doing. ellie was an angel despite the devilish image she had created for herself in her mind. "you girls hungry?" you turned to see joel miller standing at the doorway, hand on the door handle as he bent through the crack.
"no, thank you, joel." grinning up at the man who had been only welcoming towards you since the moment you met him. you had already spent too many dinners at his house, however, your parents were dead certain that your choir practice was going amazing.
ellie gave you an amused glance before turning towards her step father. "suit yourself, i'm fucking starving." and of course she dragged you straight towards the kitchen because ellie was simply like that, she couldn't go anywhere without you, even in her own house. joel would only grin at you both, shaking his head as he looked down at the bread he was buttering. you were good for ellie, he deemed from the very first second he had been introduced to you, of course you and ellie weren't a 'thing' then, however, he could see right through the girl he knew something had to have been going on. he liked how ellie's days seemed brighter, how she seemed to be getting less slips from school, how she seemed to be doing her homework, that was one he was sure he'd never see again. he adored how sweet you were, always offering to clean up after you all, you had even cooked one of the days when joel had challenged your amazing cooking skills, you brought cookies over whenever you made them at home, you did seemingly anything to make his daughter smile, that was enough. and although he adored you, along with your older sister ashley l/n, he couldn't get over his distaste of your parents, one of which he had made quite apparent to you. he, of course, swore to keep your relationship a secret for he knew mr. l/n and he knew that he'd want you nowhere near that household, along with your mother who seemed to become witchier everytime he glanced at her. joel had come to grow quite very fond of you and when he saw how upset you could be with your parents, how you'd plant a smile on your lips and say 'oh it's fine' as ellie explained the situation, however, your eyes glassing over. when he saw how upset you were, his loathing grew for the nasty couple. he'd let you move in with them in a heartbeat, but he had grew to know you, and he knew you wouldn't wish your parents to be upset, so you simply brushed it off and continued with the constant abuse.
joel was always more than happy to let ellie use the truck on date nights too. it was a busted up, rusty red truck, whenever you glanced at it, joel always added "a truck that has been loved, y/n, adored even." insecurely, you might add. but you never cared, in fact, you had grown to love the truck.
of course, ellie always had to park at least a block away from your house, it would look too sketchy to walk in at the same time as you did. you'd enter, smiling and telling your parents that choir practice was, as usual, quiet but extremely interesting. ellie'd wait for at least ten minutes after that, then she'd enter with an eye roll from your parents as she greeted ashley, two screw ups, that was all they saw. and on those nights, you and ellie would try not to look at one another during dinner, to make sure it wasn't too obvious, of course.
ellie williams was a dream, a secret one that you closed off from the world. your teachers didn't know, your friends didn't know and most importantly, your parents didn't know.
princess i think it's very rude that you always come to see ash and not me, actually.
els would you rather me rat you out to joseph and mary?
you rolled your eyes at the message, her referring to your parents as such names.
princess no thanks but you should definitely come into my room with ash and watch a movie :D
els I'll do my best to convince the wicked witch of the west
princess eeeeeek thank youuuu
els you owe me, baby
princess psh watever now stop texting 'n driving
you grinned down at your cellphone before placing it flat down on your drawer, if only you didn't, perhaps you would have been able to see the many notifications that popped up from your sister, frantic. pushing the covers off, you stood from your bed and towards your wardrobe. you wanted to look somewhat presentable for tonight, you wanted to be pretty for ellie, there was simply no other reason to be rooting through your clothes at such an hour.
you pulled out an old, large, t-shirt. to be exact, ellie's t-shirt, the one in which you were gifted the before day that she had kissed you. you and ellie hadn't been together for a very long time, however, you were upmost embarrassed looking back at how much you shoved her away, fear eating away at you. it was shameful, how scared you were to let her in but you thanked every star in the galaxy that you came to your senses before it was too late.
you dressed in a simple baby pink long sleeved top and a grey sweatpants, after all, you didn't want to look like you were trying too hard. you didn't want to think about it too much, after all, you were sure that ellie wouldn't truly care to so much as look at what you were wearing. the thought was stupid, that the shirt you wore, or the way you fixed your hair had anything to do with your relationship, however, that didn't change the fact that you sat in front of your mirror and attempted to matt down the cows lick of the left side of your hair, teeth tugging at your lip in concentration.
you never wore make up, didn't even think about it, but you did when with ellie, you wondered if she truly liked the way you looked or if she just thought better not to mention it. nevertheless, everytime she hummed and called you 'pretty girl' those thoughts seemed to leave your mind in an instant.
your door bursting open caused your eyes to shift from the mirror, hairbrush caught between your teeth and hands on the top of your head. ashley was close to frantic, hands in the air, the look on her face had your own contorting to concern. "ash? what's wrong?" setting the hairbrush down and walking closer, wondering what on earth had been wrong with your sister.
her and your parents were out that evening with some college meeting. the thought of your sister moving had your heart wrenching. "i— i'm sorry, y/n." the closer you got, you could see the way her eyes were glossed over. before you could open your mouth, she was blubbering again. "it was an accident, it just came out and— oh my god." her hands pulling at her hair. "i'm sorry, im so so sorry."
you walked closer to her, confused as to what she was apologising for. by now, you stood directly in front of her. grabbing her hands softly, you pulled them down to view her face properly, it seemed as though her mind had been stuck on this for a while. this certainly wasn't her first set of tears. "hey, i'm not mad." of course you weren't, you didn't know what happened. "tell me what happened, i promise i won't be mad."
but your sister merely choked out half a sob as she heard the front door slam shut. your parents were home. "you're gonna hate me." a mere whisper, as if a warning. before you knew it, your parents were at your bedroom door, up the stairs in mere seconds. your father stood, a menacing look etched to his face. his brows were contorted into a heavy frown and his lips pursed, your mother, in tears, stood by his side with her arms crossed. you, baffled, looked between ashley and your parents, two of which had never looked so... angry. sure, they had looked at ashley like this, at non-blievers like this but never was it directed at you. "y/n/n, they know."
your eyes shifted between your parents and your sister again, heart stuttering. whatever they knew, it wouldn't be too bad, surely it couldn't. they couldn't know about ellie, they couldn't. you did everything in your power to assure that they didn't find out. the only people that knew was you, ellie, joel... ashley. "know what?" it came out feeble, small, as if you were a glass ready to shatter at any given moment.
"we know." your mothers strong voice rang out through the room and the moment it did, you realised. everything was so fucked.
teary eyed, fear stricken, your mouth opened and closed, turning towards your sister who was biting her nail, her own eyes glassy and apologetic. you ripped your eyes away from her instantly, you couldn't look at her. your heart dropped to your stomach, everything inside you twist. that familiar knot came back, the very one that had left the moment your lips fell to ellie williams' the second time, it was back and oh how it had multiplied. this was your secret, your only secret. why couldn't it just stay like that.
"so it is true then?" your father spoke as he abandoned your mothers side, walking right into the room. "you're one of them." he spat the word out like venom. you stayed silent, taken aback as you stared at them in pure horror, the very thing you had never wished to happen, happened. your body stood frozen still, mind frozen in time, too. "no." he spoke, shaking his head at you. and suddenly... he looked at you the very way you did everything in the world to avoid. he looked at you like you were a monster. "no daughter of mine would behave this way." looking you up and down like filth. "you are not my daughter."
you blinked back the first tear. you knew the minute it began... it would never end. "I— i am." you stressed, voice breaking as you looked at the man you loved with the most pleading expression you had ever had. "it's still same me, i'm not any different than i was before, you have to listen to me. i tried to fight it, i did!" and suddenly, you couldn't stop the waterworks. "daddy, plea-"
"it was those friends." your mother interrupted, stepping so much closer than your father willed. "i told you. I told you that you would ruin everything!" your mother had never been the forgiving type. "look where you are now! what you did, what you have destroyed!" and your eyes pleaded with your father who turned his nose down at you, he wouldn't look at you. "do you know what this will do to your father? to you? to us?" and her own voice broke, as if anything was hurting her. they'd never understand how hard you tried. how much you wished to not be this way but it didn't work, it never did. "why are you doing this? is it to make a stand against us? to rebel against your parents because you're fed up of going to choir?!" you mumbled something beneath your breath. "you better speak up before i-"
"you don't get it." frantic hands pushing at your hair. for the first time in your life, you spoke against your parents, not for them. "i tried— i really tried to get rid of everything, the feelings, the thoughts but i just-" you sniffled and wiped your sleeve against your nose. "i finally, for once in my life figured out who i was and i don't know what i was expecting..." turning your head away from them. but you knew better, how every were you supposed to get it out turning away. so you turned back, eyes burning into your mothers. "i suppose i guessed that you and him would finally take a second— just a second to stop being so focused on yourselves and understand where i'm coming from, understand me!"
your mother locked her jaw. "you think we're selfish, is that it?!" your father yelled, turning back to you. "I have done this, all of this for you!" hands flailing in the air causing you to flinch.
"no you didn't!" no one in the room seemed to hear ellie's truck pull up, nor hear the door open. "you did it for you because it's always you, you, you! maybe if you took a day off to look around you might realise that ashley's done a better job at raising me than either of you have!" and as angry as you were at the girl, you couldn't deny that ashley was a true guardian, they were not. "and maybe you'd realise that i'm not going to change." you stood your ground, as much as your voice wavered and your hands shook, you spoke, despite the tears. "okay? I'm gay." that was the first time you had ever spoken the real sentence. "i— i'm gay and i always have been! and maybe if either of you took your nose out of a bible and i don't know- at least tried to understand you'd realise that it's not a choice!"
your mother shook her head at you. "i don't care what the internet says. god doesn't listen to your kind's stupid excuses." your kind. as if you were some kind of an animal.
"uh... what's going on?" oh god no. there stood ellie williams in all her glory, jacket covered in rain and her boots beginning to soak your carpet, you didn't much care because by the sounds of it, you weren't going to be living here by tomorrow.
everyone whipped around to see ellie, an umberella in her hands yet soaking wet, sometimes you wondered if you truly were dating an idiot. "you." your father shot towards her. "you stay the hell away from my daughter!"
she gave him a raised eyebrow, however, she didn't flinch back. "which one? gotta be more specific man-" confused as ever.
"this is it, y/n." your mother turned back to you. "this is who you're turning your back on your life for, who you're turning your back on your family for." ellie's brows furrowed in confusion until finally, they relaxed in shock. oh. "i'm giving you one last chance to make this right."
it seemed as though everyone in the room was watching you. "turn back to the light, y/n." your father spoke as if it were some evil rooted inside of you. "turn to god and he'll wash away all of your sins. we can forget about this."
and you looked between your parents, both their faces as they waited patiently for you to cry out and hug them. you'd state that it was all merely for attention or lack of which you had gotten. you wanted to lash out, rebel against them because that was simply what teenage girls do and you knew the only way to hurt them was this. but it didn't come. your eyes glanced back to ellie williams, standing as dishevelled as ever before and she was staring right at you, pretty emerald eyes boring into your own. she didn't look scared, nor did she appear any bit concerned for your answer because she knew you better than you knew yourself, she knew what your answer would be before it even came out of your mouth. and yet, she knew you would chose her, between every galaxy in the universe, constellations in the sky, and yet, you still managed to shock her.
"i love her."
your mother and father dropped such sympathetic looks and suddenly, you were no longer a l/n, they didn't have that glint in their eyes as they stared back, it turned to pure rage. and yet ashley's eyes had softened on your frame, ellie's eyes could only go wide. you... loved her? you loved her too. she was frozen in time, her hands stuck to her side and her umbrella nearly slipped from her fingers. she stared at you and you stared right back at your parents, eyes nowhere near hers and yet even so she felt as though you were talking to her, communicating to her through your crystal fallen tears.
your mother breathed a sigh of pure fury. "you disgust me." and you knew she meant it, with every single bone in her body. but as much as you knew she meant it, you never would have thought she'd do what she did next. you didn't think it was so much as a possibility for her to bring a hand up like she did. suddenly, you felt a pang, you could feel your nose drip almost the same time that her hand came in contact with your face. you expected silence, one in which you could just stare at her, your mother, your supposed protector in which hit you because of what? she couldn't accept the fact that you were happy. truth be told, you were sure you and ellie would be happier than she and your father ever were.
the silence never came.
commotion enveloped the bedroom. "fucking hit her again!" ellie was in your mothers face before you were out of it. ashley swooped in then, grabbing a hold of you as you cradled the side of your face, blood from your nose dripping down your hand. "no, seriously!" as much as your father attempted to push ellie away, she wasn't scared, she was nearly as tall as him for bloody sake. "fucking try it!"
your mother was just as angry as she. "get out of my way, faggot." despite the tears, your eyes blew wide, where did she even hear such a word?
you didn't get to hear much more of their conversation for before your mother could so much as take a breath, ellie's fist connected with her face. you attempted to push yourself further, ashley could only hold you back as tears stung at the rim of your eyes.
this was all of your fault.
ellie didn't swing once, nor did she swing twice, she punched the woman at least three times before your father interfered. he didn't use violence, why would he? he was a man of god. "fucking pussies." ellie muttered as your mother and father stood off, your mother completely sobbing now, as you were, silently as you could in your sisters arms.
if only you didn't kiss her. if only you didn't allow yourself the satisfaction. if only you listened to that instinct that told you to run away that night. but you didn't want to run from ellie, no, if you could do anything different you would have run further, out of that room, that house, you could be in a different state by they so much as notice you had left.
your father stood off to the side, cradling your mother in his arms. "get out of my house." staring at ellie who merely glared right to him, not a shot of fear in her eyes. "now."
she scoffed, locking her jaw as she turned her head. "c'mon, sweetheart." eyes pointed at you. your lip was tucked beneath your teeth as ashley let her arms fall from around you.
"she won't go with you." your father scoffed back. "she's my daughter." if only he knew how little that meant after that night. ellie williams didn't utter a word, she simply held her hand out from behind her, eyes locked with your fathers. so you did what you had longed to do for so long. hesitantly, you stepped forward and stretched your hand out, it fell into hers. instantly, she locked your fingers together, a proud grin on her lips as she looked right back at your horrified dad. "by the holy bible, you will regret this, y/n."
"no, i don't think she will." ellie tsked and like that, she got you right out of that bedroom.
you didn't remember when you stopped crying that night. what you did know, however, was that it was not down the stairs or when you got in the truck or when ellie had sat you on the bed after assuring you that joel had a night shift. "ellie th-they hate me." you blubbered as the girl attempted to wipe your nose with a damp cloth, it was proving difficult with the tears mixing with the blood and the dried blood that had stuck to your pretty skin. you hated crying, you hated being vulnerable and you did not have any intentions of doing so in front of the girl you adored so dearly and yet here you were, unable to stop the tears from flowing.
"they don't hate you, sweet girl." doing her best to keep your face still as the damp cloth wove it's way around your skin. "they're just.. shocked is all." funny, she didn't think she'd hit a grown woman three times for merely being shocked. she was almost done with your face, still trying to get the bits of dried blood around your left cheek off.
you shook your head, still crying. "they hate me, they hate you. els 'm so sorry." ellie dropped the cloth onto the floor beneath her.
"hey, hey, look at me." she grabbed your face between her hands. "none of this is your fault." you tried to look away, she wasn't letting that happen any time soon. "it's not your fault they're close minded cunts. they can go— i don't know fuck the three wise men or something." this sprouted the quietest, lovelies of giggles from you, small, quiet but enough. ellie grinned, her eyes tracing every perfect imperfection of your skin. "there she is." a dazing smile on her lips as her eyes raked your face.
you sniffed, realising her hands had clapsed around your own. "you're not mad at me?" you questioned oh so quietly.
"mad at you?" she laughed under her breath. "baby, i'd never." she disconnected one hand, you ignored the way only one of hers was enough to cover both of yours. the free hand came to your face, you didn't flinch like before, you relished in it. the way the pads of her fingers traced around your skin, slowly pushing your hair behind your ear. a whisper left her lips. "you're too pretty to be mad at, anyway."
something in the air had shifted.
"els..." as her finger pads danced against your pretty skin. she hummed quietly, entranced by your pretty face. "can you kiss me."
"don't need to tell me twice."
her lips were ecstatic, rough against your soft ones. she captured you in a kiss so blissfully that it sent your face backwards slightly. her hands fell to your thighs as your hands sat on her shoulders. she was on her knees before you, kissing you so roughly as you ignored how hot you suddenly felt. you never kissed someone before ellie but for an inexperienced person or an experienced person, ellie had to be the best kisser in the world. it seemed as though everytime you forgot what to do, she was doing something to make up for it. she kissed you roughly, you sloppily chased her speed. her right hand travelled further up your thigh and softly squeezed. your lips parted and a noise left your lips, ellie took the perfect moment to slip her tongue inside your mouth, allowing it to explore easily as it pushed your own down, not bothering to fight for dominance, she would win anyway.
she picked your hips up slightly, detaching your lips so she could push you further up the bed, she stood before you, you looked up at her with pretty doe eyes. "fuck me." she mumbled beneath her breath before attaching your lips once more. she slowly guided your back to hit the sheets beneath you and continued to kiss roughly at your hips. your hands came up, gathering around her neck while her own fell down to your hips, groping the plush skin of your waist while her teeth came down to softly nip at your bottom lip, tongue soothing down the skin soon after before she returned kissing you. the feeling was so euphoric, so many things happening at once, you didn't have a chance to acknowledge them all at once, too busy focusing on the sudden ache between your legs.
oh no. it was happening again, that funny feeling that always settled in when ellie kissed you too long, when her hands found home on your skin in a somewhat different way than the others. "els..." you breathed out, detaching yourself from the kiss, you looked right up at her with desperate eyes, she knew then and there.
"what's wrong, baby?" as her lips came down to trace across your leg, littering small kisses against the sensitive skin that had your back arching against her and off the mattress.
you breathed out in frustration. "ellie... need you." pulling at her sleeve, she knew exactly what you needed, she could practically see the wet pool already despite the fact she wasn't even looking. "please..."
"please what, angel?" kissing against your neck once more, just beneath your jaw. you made a noise, one of more frustration. one that told her you needed her more than any other gesture or words would have. but she wasn't having it. she wanted to embarrass you, make your cheeks go pink and your eyes flutter the way they did. "be good and use your words and i might..." hands tracing against the bottom of your stomach, so close to where you needed her. "give you a reward, hm?"
you had never had sex before. in fact, you hadn't even thought of how it would happen let alone did you ever think it would be with your sisters best friend. a girl, you may have guessed but ellie williams, never. sure, you could wish but a girl can dream, never did you think it would be reality. there was one thing and one thing alone that you were sure about, however.... "please, ellie, t-touch me."
she moved away from your neck, looking down at you as she positioned herself above you. "you sure this is what you want?" clarifying before you began. "if you're still upset we can just relax, we don't need to do anything you don't want to." and your heart swelled, ellie williams cared about you more than she cared about anyone else in the whole world.
a small smile brushed across your lips. "i want to, ellie." you spoke, in a mere whisper. "I really want to." because it was her and ellie could make you comfortable enough to jump off the earth if she wanted to. she made you feel so warm... so loved, however, she also had this special trick where she made your panties wetter than anyone before.
"in that case." chuckling as she bent down to place another kiss against your lip, this one so much more passionate, not as rough. she kissed you again and again while her hands managed to ease around your skin once more, suddenly her fingers and large hands were tracing every inch of you, you almost held your breath. she soothed your shirt up a little, hands falling onto your stomach as she pushed her hands around, rubbing your sides up and down as you shivered into her touch. "you ever touched yourself, angel?" angel, a quite contrasting name to such an event. your face grew hot at the question, lips parting and closing once more with a small huff, the situation much too shameful. "don't go shy on me now, sweetheart." she pushed your chin forward, eyes locking into your own with lips brushing against one anothers. you breathed heavily, eyes boring into her pretty green irises and tracing her freckles that littered across her smooth skin. you made a certain hum with a nod, a desperate one as your back arched off the mattress. "yeah?" you whimpered as her lips came down to soothe your neck, pressing sloppy kisses across the delicate skin. "you ever came, baby?" a fragile whisper as the image of you in your bedroom, pretty legs parted with your hand between them as you desperately tried to get off. of course, how would you even know how to. her long fingers traced your skin, she had pushed your sweatpants down ever so slightly so that she was just above where you needed her. you whined into her touch, pushing yourself down the bed further with a small shake of your head, admittedly embarrassed. "no?" an almost teasing smirk in her face. of course you didn't know how to tease yourself, not properly at least. you were so fucking innocent and oh how ellie couldn't wait to taint you.
"ellie." it was a whisper, almost a warning so she would stop teasing you. endless nights, you had your hand down between your legs, hoping to any saint above that no one would walk in. you never quite reached that euphoric feeling the books explained.
"i know, angel, i know." you were far from an angel, you deemed. "let's get this off, hmm?" fingers slowly trailing up and down your pant leg. you nodded, breathlessly and panting as the girl gripped the waistband between her fingers. she waited a moment, watching your desperate face whither once more before slowly, dragging it down your legs with ease.
her eyes never left your body as the material grouped up in her hands, she tossed it somewhere then, she wasn't really looking but the silence that followed without a clatter seemed to be good news. her eyes fell, sitting on your pretty white cotton panties. a smirk fell across her face, of course they were. your breath caught in your throat, feeling the cold air nipping at your bare yet soft legs. ellie took the chance to place sloppy kisses against your stomach, her hands toying with the silky flesh of your legs. your back arched.
but before the girl could get to the place you needed her the most, you whined out, grabbing her shoulders. she stopped in an instant, coming back up to your face. " 's wrong, baby?" and you almost whimpered at the name, but you controlled yourself... for now.
your grasped at her sleeves, pushing yourself closer to her. "your turn." you mumbled, looking up at her with those hazy doe eyes, she smirked right at you. bending down, she placed three kisses against your lips before sitting herself up slightly, pushing her arms through the holes of her t shirt, you watched in awe as she tossed it somewhere in the room. your eyes immediately fell to her chest, ignoring the growing pit in your stomach. while in awe, she reached down and kissed your dazy state away. tugging at your own long sleeved top, she tossed it somewhere with the pile of clothes too, all sitting together rather neatly, considering she threw them when she wasn't looking. white bra, how cute.
"better?" she mumbled seductively against your lips, hands moving up to cup your covered breasts, palming her hands over them.
"better." you whispered, trying to keep every sound you possibly could contained and yet it proved to work to no avail as a small whimper fell from your lips.
she kissed down your stomach once more, slowly, excruciatingly so. hot, sloppy, open mouth kisses against every fraction of your skin. your back arched off the mattress, hands steady on the girls shoulder. no bra. of course she was wearing no bra. her lips trailed further down your stomach, past your belly button and only did they stop right above your pretty panties. " 'm gonna take 'em off." you didn't respond with yes but a mere whimper and you did what you simply couldn't control. bucking your hips up, almost hitting your core off the girls face. she grinned at what she had created, a rather damp spot soaking through your panties. "so fuckin' eager." you assumed she would grab your panties, toss them somewhere foreign like she did so many times before. you assumed wrong.
her teeth slightly scratched against your hip bone as they hooked around the side of your panties. slowly, she dragged the panties down with her mouth with little to no effort, sliding them smoothly along your legs. you glanced down, out of breath already. she had her eyes closed and it looked as though she were trying not to get too caught up in the situation, as if she were holding herself back. she pooled them at your feet then grabbed them with her slim fingers. you watched as she pocketed them in the back of her jeans and yet you said nothing, just watched as she grinned down at you, menacing face contorted into an almost evil grin.
but she couldn't look at you, not yet, before she let what she didn't want... unfinished. "before i do anything..." she mumbled, hand coming towards your chest. you gasped as you felt her pull your pretty silver cross from your neck, she didn't pocket that, nor did she toss it away, she simply placed it delicately on the desk beside her. who did she care, the clasp was surely broken anyway. maybe it was just a silly souvenir. you looked up at her, eyes barely blown wide. "what? y'don't need it no more, pretty girl." because the cross was a symbol of purity and you were anything but pure now. and the way your puffy lips stretched out, the way your eyes dazily glanced up at her as if she were made of diamonds. she knew it was official. she had corrupted you, molded you to her own liking.
you gasped at the sudden sensation of her hand cupping your dripping cunt. she almost laughed at you. "haven't even touched you yet, baby." you bucked your hips into her hand, oh how you wanted her to touch you. "all f'me?"
you nodded, panting like a lap dog. "please, els." whimpering once more. and who was ellie to deny such a request? you gasped out, breath stuttering as her hands parted your legs and one fell on your cunt. she rubbed two fingers against your pretty pink nub, watching as you reacted so... verbally. the way you moaned at the way she simply drew circles on your clit had herself almost grinding in her jeans. while she controlled herself, she simply couldn't stop by how reactive you were, you were in much too deep now.
fingers fell down to your hole, collecting your juices on her fingers. she groaned as she pressed her lips to your neck, anything to distract herself from practically fucking you then and there. she shoved one finger in, watching as you jumped at the foreign feeling. you had rubbed your clit before, of course, but never had you inserted a finger into yourself. and even if you did, nothing could have compared yourself for her slim, long fingers.
you moaned out. "oh... ellie." eyes squeezing shut as she began to move. she pumped her finger in and out, watching as you moved your body with it, practically fucking yourself with her finger. a knot made it's way to your tightening stomach. for good measure, she didn't add another finger.
she added two.
the feeling of her stretching you out had your back arching and mewls falling from your pretty lips while ellie attacked your neck with kisses. she pumped her fingers in and out of you, watching as you wriggled in her grasp, grinding yourself off her fingers. she didn't say anything, simply kissing your neck and allowing you to get off on her fingers. there would be more time to tease you in the future. besides, she'd be lying if she said she didn't adore the sounds leaving your lips and the way the bed creaked with the movements of ellie shoving her fingers in and out of you.
"feeling desperate, hm?" as she kissed up your jawline. you were sure, this was the euphoric feeling they explained. "want me to make you cum, sweetheart?" and what were you to say? deny yourself of the pleasure? certainly not. relish in it? absolutely.
"mmph." whining into her mouth as she captured your lips, tongue slipping into your mouth. "please ellie." you could have screamed for her then and there. "please ellie, make me cum!" her big body against your tiny one, she couldn't help but fawn.
"your wish is my command, princess." something you never would have guessed could be so hot. she moved her lips from your face and down your body. you moaned out at the feeling of her fingers, still fucking you senseless as your hands moved from her shoulder to her head. she positioned her face right in line with your core. you suddenly felt nervous but that feeling of her against your cunt was just so much more overpowering.
she didn't give you so much as a warning as her tongue flattened out against your clit, her fingers never stopping their fast pace. "oh!" your legs had spread with ease, sitting up bent at the knees with your socks sitting at either side of ellie's head, your back arched, hands on the back of her head while your own fell into the cushions behind you. eyes screwing shut, her pretty mouth working so perfectly on you.
mewls. whimpers. ellie could have come from the sound alone. they were nothing short of pornographic. how could she not smirk against your core as she lapped you up, holding you still with her free hand. she was making you make these sounds. she was making you squirm as you did. she made that knot in your stomach tighten.
your chest quickened its fast paces. "ellie— ellie, i'm gonna-" you were going to come. you had never reached anywhere close to that and here ellie was, effortlessly making you reach a hundred.
she parted her mouth from your clit. " 's okay, baby, let it out." and you assumed she'd slow down. once again, you assumed wrong. pouncing forward, she began licking and lapping your tongue against your clit once more, watching as you squirmed against here, almost screaming. it was when her name ripped from your throat that she knew you were so close. so close that she could feel your walls clenching around her fingers. she didn't stop, nor did she slow down as she awaited the arrival in which she had dreamt of the day she met you.
"oh god, oh god!" you hoped god was nowhere near that bedroom. "ellie!" and that was the last thing ellie heard before she felt you completely collapse around her. she felt white, hot liquid gush out from your pussy all over her fingers. she could taste you. your body jerked, the most pornographic mewls falling from your lips as you bucked your hips over and over again. she continued to fuck you through your high, tongue doing anything it could to pick up all your juices. the salty taste had her wanting more.
she didn't stop until your body was practically vibrating.
ellie came back up to meet your face which was embarrassed and flushed. sweat caused your hair to stick to your forehead and your chest moved up and down rapidly due to your irregular breathing pattern. pretty plush lips parted as you panted heavily. her breathing had picked up too, eyes grazing over your pretty skin as she lifted her fingers to her mouth, sucking off your juices. you watched entranced, innocent eyes blown wide. you wanted to shy away, suddenly beyond embarrassed as the euphoric feeling began to fade away. but you didn't, your eyes were too focused on the pretty girl in front of you. "you okay to keep going?" she breathed heavily as your head fell deeper into the pillows beneath you. there was more? you nodded your head rapidly, head moving up in an instant to lock your lips to ellie's, she got the hint almost instantly. you were ready, you were beyond ready.
the adrenaline sat in your chest, burrowing there as your lips moved at seemingly the same pace as ellie's, though you wouldn't deny the fact that she was leading the pathway, you could only sloppily follow. your eyes a little heavier, you assumed it was that euphoric feeling taking a toll on you however by the way ellie was beginning to unbotton her jeans, you could only assume that whatever was to happen next was going to please her just as much as it did you the first time and boy did you want that, desperately.
she was above you, kissing your lips roughly as her hands fiddled with the buttons and zipper of her jeans, rough material sliding down her legs with a little less ease than your own. however, she didn't waste a second to toss them into the pile of your discarded clothes from before. dressed in black boxers, you couldn't help but gawk at her but she didn't allow it too long for in seconds she was desperately raking them off her body, eagerly pushing the material off her body so she could feel you again.
you made a noise into her mouth, her kisses making your face hot, cheeks pink and mind beyond ditsy. as soon as she was bare, all fabrics discarded, she had pushed at your knees, sending them up so you were practically making a bridge with them. "fucking hell." a whisper beneath her breath as she looked at your already soaked pussy in your own juices from before. she did that. she couldn't help but grin in pride at your abused cunt. her hands fell to yours, pushing them down against the mattress as her larger ones cupped your smaller ones, holding you in place so easily. you were like her very own doll and oh how she loved playing with you. you watched as she hooked a leg past your waist, knee planting itself on the other side of the bed from you. you swallowed thickly and watched her in anticipation. you had never done something like this before. it was safe to say that you're stomach was doing flips, that your heart rate sped as fast as it ever had before but you couldn't deny the sole comfort her big hands brought, almost grounding you.
she didn't take another breath, state another word, before planting herself right on top of you.
her pussy fell on yours, she let out a groan at the feeling, sudden relief washing over her. you whined at the contact, holding her hands tighter if even possible. she bent her body towards you, hands still clasped together as she slowly rolled her hips against your own. you whimpered at the feeling of her clit bumping off your own. "ellie." you all but mewled. "f-feels so good." as she continued to slowly roll her hips, grinding down onto your pretty cunt.
ellie was in no mind to stop, eyes closed and her throat held many sounds of her own. "fuck." trying to do everything in her will to not take it to the extreme, it was your first time, she wanted to be gentle. "tryin' not to push it, sweetheart." alerting you of how badly she wanted to fuck you senseless.
you breathed heavily, the feeling of her pussy on your abused one so stimulating. "i can— i can take it." pretty doe eyes looking up at her as if you wanted nothing more than for her to feel good. and you did, you'd do anything to make sure she felt as good as you, it would be almost monsterous to deprive anyone of this euphoric feeling, the one in which had your legs trembling and lip wobbling as you tried to contain your sounds, ignoring the lump in your throat. "please, els." you whimpered, grinding your own hips against her, she let out a grunt, holding your hands tighter. "want you to."
she didn't need to be told twice.
she pushed her hips up and down, heavily and swiftly as she felt your pretty cunt against your own.
she practically got drunk off of your noises. holding you close, she never stopped her agonising pace as she even began pushing her hips to the side, rarely yet every time it had a new sound coming from your lips. she wondered just how many sounds she could make you make.
rutting her pussy roughly against yours, she listened to the crude squelching sounds from your wetness mixing with her own. "yeah." she breathed, lips close to your own as she held your hands so hard you couldn't feel them anymore. the feeling was too elating to move your mind from. your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of your stomach tightening again. "takin' me so well, sweetheart." and she meant it so much. she allowed her own eyes to close as she never stopped her pace. rubbing herself against you so carelessly and sloppy, she could feel her high coming on just as it had the many nights ellie imagined this very moment. hips roughly shoving your own down, you couldn't help but move with her as she fucked you senseless.
"ellie!" you whined, back arching off the bed. her sweaty forehead was pressed against your own. she knew that tone, the very one you had used before, the very one she imagined so many times.
she breathed out a huff, eyes still closed. "me too." and the knot was so close to untangling, she all but swallowed back her noises. opening her eyes she roughly shot her face forward, lips latching to yours. you desperately kissed her back as she began to rut her hips so eagerly.
you would have screamed if it weren't for her lips on your own, maybe that was why she had done it, to silence you or maybe to silence herself. whatever the case, you were much too wrapped up in your own world to so much as consider it. you felt your stomach finally give out as ellie's did almost simultaneously. her juices mixed with your own, like to complimented chemicals in a science fair. with her lips on yours, she groaned deeply while you whimpered, your hips slowly stopped grinding to her own and she too slowed her rutting. noises falling between one another, you could barely breathe. her lips were suffocating you and you would have died happily there and then if you could have.
two damp cloths and a toilet use later, you sat drowsy in ellie williams bed. your head was limp against the crook of her neck as she laid with you in her arms. after you had cleaned up, she offered you some of her clothes, stating she'd tell joel everything in the morning, claiming he'd be more than happy to let you crash because apparently 'he'd rather you as a daughter anyway'. you brushed her off but thanked her heavily, kisses falling around her freckles as she laughed at your giggly yet drowsy state. it was only seconds later that you ended in the predicament that you did, arms wrapped around her loosely while her own squeezed you close.
thoughts of that night swam through ellie's head. she wondered how fast that mood had changed, from crying with a damp cloth on your face to almost brought to tears by ellie williams' pussy. she smirked to herself before glancing over at the broken silver chain that sat on her desk, you hadn't even mentioned it.
the girl turned back to you, your eyes were closed and your breathing was slow, cheeks pink and lips plush. if she didn't know any better, she'd think you were asleep. "baby?" you hummed, quietly yet barely heard, you were too far deep in sleep, ellie wasn't even sure if you'd register her words, she didn't care, she needed them out. "i love you too."
crazy to think a little lust for the pastors daughter led her well... here.
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main masterlist/ellie's masterlist
a/n: cringy aa argument im sorry. this is not just my first time writing gay smut but any smut like at all ever. i hope it was alright but please if you have any tips or advice feel free to share. also, sorry this took so long i have so many exams in school and i'm so stressed (maybe i'll self project and make a fic about it who knows) end to the series but i wouldn't mind doing pastors daughter drabbles if you guys want it!
send requests PLEASE.
taglist: (comment or message to be apart of it/taken out of it) @catostrophiclesbian @blairfox04 @wren-ly@audreebowlss@dyk3ification@muthafuckingstargirl@ucannotcompare@elliedinatheworldtachiharas-gf@evangelinejxyccinnamongrl@godswlwwarrioridontknowabtyou
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mistyresolve · 1 year
Text
| Hostage - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader
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Word count - 1.9K
Summary - When y/n is taken hostage because she is their combat analyst and knows a significant amount of information in regards to the 141, Ghost goes ballistic. Driven by fear and anger he locates you and is able to rescue you but the fear lingers and he struggles to wrestle his feelings back down.  
Warnings/Tags - Violence and blood, allusions to a brief panic attack  
A/N - I’m thinking of doing an epilogue to this but I’m really on the fence  
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Ghost feared very little. Knew that very little could actually kill him, and even fewer people could do the same. He knew he wasn’t invincible, and someday his luck would run out. Someday his heart would stop, and his blood would run cold. He couldn’t run from the inevitable; thus, he welcomed death with open arms like one would an old friend. He didn’t have a death wish though. He was merely passive towards it. Sometimes he liked the thrill a brush with death gave him. It reminded him he was alive, that his heart did indeed beat like everyone else’s. 
When it came to you, it was an entirely different story. The very idea of you being hurt, and dying, scared the shit out of him. The thought of you leaving him behind plagued him. Even in his sleep, nightmares of you taking your last breaths in his arms would force him from sleep. He’d spend the rest of the night watching you sleep, watching your chest rise and fall, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. He feared for the day he wasn’t able to protect you. 
A day like today. 
“Ghost,” Price spoke slowly and low like he was talking to a wide animal. Which wasn’t that far off, “We’ll get them back, we just need more information. We can’t run in there blind and deaf.” 
Price might as well have been talking to a brick wall because all Ghost could hear was ringing. An incessant, grating sound that shrouded him from all sense and reason. He remained utterly silent, seeth in his own wrath. The wrath he was sure to bring down on everyone and anyone who stood in his way. The 141 was well aware of this and stood aside as Ghost stalked to the door, his shoulders rolled and taut ready for a fight. He had turned so wholly maniacal that even Soap was disturbed by the look in his eye and backed down. Ghost went AWOL, but the 141 provided as much support as they could. They were able to give him updates and new information over the radio, but they were never able to catch up with his unrelenting pace. Instead, they only stumbled over his messes. Their own anxiety and unease about the meaning behind it all grew. It was as if humanity abandoned him as he tracked—No. As he hunted down the men who took you, smelling their blood in the air and following the scent. Ghost spared no one. If someone wasn't giving him the information he’d slay them and move to the next. If the next person wasn’t giving him information fast enough they were executed.   
When he finally located you, you were in a warehouse, he communicated back into the radio for the first time to tell the rest of the 141. 
The captors had yet to start drawing blood, but only because they were trying a psychological approach. It had already been three hours. Three very long hours. You were a combat analyst, you weren’t a trained soldier like the 141. And you sure as hell wasn’t prepared for something like this. He didn’t let himself think too hard about the possibilities. He didn’t let himself think about the probability of finding you dead inside the warehouse. You had crucial information on the 141 that they wanted, and he could only hope that information was keeping you alive. 
He slaughtered his way into the building, leaving nothing but carnage behind him. When he got visuals on you, alive, he nearly collapsed. Not completely unharmed though.
You were soaked from waterboarding. They had used ice-cold water, and somehow it was colder still. The big industrial fans hanging from the roof blew cool air, but it was only amplified tenfold for you. He could hear your shivering, see how your lips had turned a scary shade of blue. Your hair stuck to your face in wet clumps. Your hands were bound to a chair, your fingers curling into your palms in search of any warmth. Your eyes burned holes into whoever stood in front of you.     
“Where. Are. The 141. Hiding?” Your captor asked again, the same question he’s been asking from the very beginning. He forced your head back, getting ready to place the towel. He hadn’t gotten anything out of you yet, but he could tell you were breaking. 
You bit out a smile, although it was more of an act of you baring your teeth at him, “Go to hell,” Your teeth chattered, despite your best efforts. Before the captor could place to sopping towel back over your face he emerges. 
It’s almost as if Ghost was made from the shadows themselves with the way he seems to materialize out of them. The way they clung to him. He couldn’t remember losing his handgun, but at some point, he’d resorted to knives. 
You knew he wasn’t here for your blood but alarms and warnings went off in your very bones. They screamed, Danger! Danger!       
Ghost was every bit his reputation at this moment. His eyes were wide and unseeing. His movements were swift and snappy like elastics were snapping in his limbs. He’d taken his time when he dragged the blade across the man's throat, wanting to keep him alive to feel every ounce of agony at his life quite literally drained from him. 
The speed at which he moved in front of you almost made you think him inhuman. He uncuffed you and pulled you into his arms, squeezing you hard enough that you thought he was going to break bones. He was panting, almost unable to catch his breath. You could almost smell his fear; that and the blood that was surely hiding among the black dye of his clothes.  
You repeatedly murmured, “I’m okay. I’m okay,”  into his shoulder. Not sure if you were comforting him, or yourself. Both, you very quickly realized. As whatever came over him in those few hours of your life in danger, ebbed from his veins, he finally, finally returned to his body. Before it had felt like he was watching himself from outside his body, watching himself from someone else perceptive. Someone may have thought he wasn’t a mundane soldier, but a vessel for whatever god wished to experience true unchecked rage. 
But he was human.
He felt true terror today, and his body was starting to feel the effects of it. He kept repeating, “I’m sorry,” like they were the only words he could remember. His body began to tremble uncontrollably, and his skin felt too tight and itchy. You let him hold you, let him feel your heartbeat against his.   
The 141 arrived with a medic. Simon immediately stepped aside, allowing the professional to assess you. She’d immediately announced hypothermia and called for a medevac. She’d wrapped a reflective blanket around your shoulders and removed her own jacket and put it on top.  
Once Simon was completely and utterly sure you were in good hands, he’d stumbled to the wall, choosing a spot where he was obscured from your view. Everyone’s view. He’d fallen to his knees then, his strength leaving him. They cracked against the concrete, but he welcomed the sharp pain. He’d lifted his mask and thrown up. 
It had been a long, long while since he’d had a reaction like this. Where panic and hysteria claimed him. Guilt and self-loathing suffocated him. Filled his chest, and bubbled up into his throat.  
He let this happen. He wasn’t careful enough. He got too comfortable. 
And this was the result. 
It was his fault. 
His fault. His fault. His fault.   
He clenched his jaw, fighting back hot tears. He leaned his back against the wall, rested his arms on his knees, and let his head hang between his legs. If circumstances were different he would have crawled into the safety of your arms and begged you to make this feeling stop. To make it go away. It was a selfish thought, he knew that. Knew that you were one who needed comfort and reassurance right now. Knew that you needed him just as much, but he didn’t want you to see this. For if you looked into his eyes, you’d be faced with the reality that he truly had had no idea what to do. He came looking with no plan and hardly any direction. He’d once again gotten lucky by following breadcrumbs and whispers to find you.  
He almost lost you.  
You were alive, yes, but what if he’d come an hour later? A minute?  
The 141 knew where he was. Had watched him as he melted back into the shadows, but respected Simon’s silent request for solitary. They understood that he needed to wade through these emotions on his own and that no matter what they said or did wasn’t going to fix it. 
When he heard the familiar sound of a chopper overhead he forced himself to collect himself. Allowing himself 10 more seconds before remasking, and finding you. The medic and Price were escorting you to the front doors. 
“Simon,” Soap appeared at his side, Ghost jerked his attention to him, “There is nothing you could have done differently.” 
He didn’t say anything, but his silence was enough for Soap to understand that he disagreed. With that, he made his way over to you taking Price’s place at your side. 
You were still shaking but you held your head high with your shoulders squared. Simon could have cried at the sight. To see you were defiant in the face of it all was enough to ease the tiniest bit of worry from his shoulders. He knew you weren’t totally unaffected and it was going to take you years to repair the damages, but here you were walking out of this building on your own two feet. 
The medic tried to tell him he couldn’t come with but he downright refused to leave you, “Try and tell me no.”, and she must have known immediately she wasn’t going to win because she let him in anyway. 
He held your hand in his the entire flight to the nearest hospital, eyes darting about. He stayed at your side the entire time you were in the hospital too. He slept in the chair beside your bed, or at least pretended to until you drifted off into sleep, but was wide awake and alert for the rest of the night. Only leaving when Soap came for a visit the next day with clothes for him, telling him he’d take the next shift. Simon changed and came right back to the room. Only this time when he sat in the chair with the hood of his sweater pulled over his head, did he sleep. Finding some solace in knowing Soap was here too.  
Tomorrow he was going to have a meeting with Price about his insubordination. And about the ramage he went on. Tomorrow he was going to have to tell Price about how he’d completely lost himself, didn’t even remember half of it.   
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Epilogue
Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form 
A/N - Price isn’t mad, he’s worried 
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juiles · 7 months
Text
Sticking out sucks.
Summary: You are taken in by the Avengers at 13 and the first four months are hell until after one fateful mission, Wanda and Natasha really step up the moment you need parent figures the most.
Age: 13
Warnings: blood, gunshot wounds, broken bones, fever, fever haze, hydra, red room, a little mean Nat but she comes back quick, asshole Tony mentioned, surgery drugs
Important questions!!!
Type: angst, hurt/comfort
Here is the masterlist!!
Here is the request form!!
pic credit to the amazing jaylerdoodles
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———————————————————————-
I sat in a daze, my world tilting just slightly as i listened to Steve ramble about something after a rough mission. Tony had messed up but somehow got everyone else to believe it had been me. Now here i sat, staring at the table, my hands folded, placed there. I gently picked at the skin around my thumb.
This is how it’s been for 4 months. 4 months of someone messing up on a mission and then me getting blamed as the youngest member. 4 months ago, Steve rescued me from a Hydra cage at 13. I’ve spent half my life being raised by Dreykov to be a perfect widow but at 8, Hydra got a hold of me. Turned me into the perfect weapon. Years of abuse and torture makes you older than you are. Something that Natasha and Wanda don’t like. They’ve never liked me.
I squirmed in my seat, wanting to escape the yelling. As soon as he let us all go, i stood from my chair and made my way up to my room concealing a limp. As soon as my door closed behind me, I grabbed the first aid kit i kept under my bed and changed out of my dirty, bloody suit and into a tank and bike shorts. The gauze on my thigh was already bright red, despite only being on for a couple of hours.
Slowly I peeled it back and winced at the gaping bullet hole. I fished around gently pulling the bullet out, knowing it was a very shallow wound, i gave it a few stitches and wrapped it up tight with a sterile gauze and some ointment. Looking down, I sighed and gently got up. I cleaned the blood off my leg and took a look out my door, creaking it open slightly. It seemed empty and the bucket and mop i would need to clean the blood up is only a few feet away. I glanced down at my bandaged leg then back at the bucket that i could see. Using my powers would only alert Wanda so I slipped out of my room.
I limped over to the bucket and grabbed it, accidentally knocking over the mop in the process. I flinched and whipped around to run back to my room but with the bullet wound, a concussion and a few broken ribs, I got dizzy and instead of running to my room, i fell face first on to the floor, i managed to catch myself before i could hurt myself but at the same time i heard a bedroom door open and could basically feel Natasha rolling her eyes at me as Wanda gasped.
“Don’t baby her Wands.” She cooly said to the girl standing beside her. “She tripped after waking us up. She’ll be fine.” I winced as I crawled up the wall. I looked over my shoulder to see them standing in their bedroom, Natasha leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, Wanda holding one of her arms, her face twisted slightly in concern.
“Why is there blood on your leg y/n?” I heard a small whisper before i glanced down at my leg and winced seeing blood streaming from the gunshot wound, the stitches must have opened when i fell.
“It-it’s nothing…” I muttered and tried to mask my limp to make my way back to my room but was stopped by a red wisp. I glanced back over my shoulder to see Wanda stalking towards me, I flinched out of habit when she got to me. She turned me around by grabbing both my shoulders and a gasp echoed around the hallway when she saw the red gauze, the blood trickling down my leg.
“Y/n! It’s clearly not nothing!” I took a glance up at her and almost immediately melted when I saw the look of pure fear and care in her eyes but pulled myself together. “It is! I’ll just stitch it up and then clean up my mess.”
“Baby you’re not stitching anything up. You and I are heading down to see Bruce to get you checked over.” I froze and turned properly to face her. “Since when do you care?!” I snapped making her flinch slightly before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking back at me. “I’ve always cared love. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to show you it but I can’t let you do this on your own.” I sucked in my breath and closed my eyes.
“I didn’t do it… Tony wasn’t paying attention and I had to jump in front of him. He knocked the switch over, I’m sorry… i’m sorry…” I could feel my chest tighten and i tried to push Wanda’s arms off me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
Wanda simply pulled me closer in her arms and slid down the wall, pulling my head to lay flat against her chest so I could hear her heartbeat. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Natasha crouching down in front of me or feel her hands rubbing my back until my chest started to loosen and the knot in my throat slowly released, i gasped in breaths which merely just cause me to sob harder due to the broken ribs. “Baby breath. Take a deep breath. Come on baby. Follow my breathing okay?”
I could feel myself calm down slightly as I listened to Wanda’s heart beat, feeling her fingers massaging my scalp while Natasha drew shapes on my back lightly. My eyes slowly drooped as my fingers tangled into her sleep shirt. “No baby. You can’t sleep yet. Stay with us okay?” I groaned sleepily and fluttered my eyes open to look up at her with a slight pout on my face. “I’m sleepy…” I muttered sniffling slightly.
“I know sweet girl but Wanda is right. I’m going to pick you up and we’re gonna bring you down to Bruce okay?” Natasha murmured shifting me into her arms, making me look up at her. I smiled sleepily before breaking into a coughing fit. “I feel gross…” I felt a cool hand on my forehead before Wanda cooed. “Oh darling you’ve got a fever… you’re sick too…”
“You look like me Natty…” I mumbled staring at her green eyes. “I wish you could be my mama… but you don’t like me… i’m sorry for whatever i did…”
“Darling… you did nothing wrong and I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like you did… but i’m here now okay?” She said placing me on the bed, Bruce walking up next to us. I smiled slightly up at her giggling slightly. “Okay mama…” I muttered, to out of it to even realize what i had said.
Wanda’s POV
Both Natasha and i struggled to understand why a 13 year old needed to be on the team. She’s way too young. We haven’t treated her the best, hoping she would quit. Keep her safe. That was until today.
When i heard the bang on the floor in the hallway, i got up and opened the door leaning into Natasha. I watched y/n scramble to get up and i saw the blood trickling down from a bandage wrapped around her leg. I gasped, instantly frowning when Natasha scoffed.
Honestly the next few minutes were a haze, the next thing I knew Nat had a fever hazed y/n in her arms and I was checking her forehead. “Oh darling you’ve got a fever… you’re sick too…”
“You look like me Natty…” Y/n mumbled slightly staring up at the woman. “I wish you could be my mama… but you don’t like me…” My heart shattered at that, we had been so awful to this little girl that she thought we didn’t like her. Her little pout breaking my heart more. “I’m sorry for whatever i did…”
“Darling… you did nothing wrong and I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like you did… but i’m here now okay?” Natasha said through her tears as she brushed the hair out of y/n’s face. “Okay mama…” She mumbled before she fell asleep. Bruce quickly shuffled us out of the room. Natasha plopped down in a chair in the waiting room with wide eyes filled with tears. “Natty?”
“She called me mama… she- god i messed up Wandz… she’s so young… she doesn’t deserve any of this…” Natasha broke down, i quickly pulled her into my arms as she buried her face into the crook of my neck.
“We’ll talk to her when she’s more awake… for now shen she gets out of surgery she’s going to need us to support her… she’s got a gunshot wound to her leg, some broken ribs, a concussion and a nasty flu.” Natasha stiffened. “She got shot… how did none of us notice?” I muttered as Natasha sat up slightly and cupped my cheeks. “We were stupid but we’ll do better Wandz.”
We both looked up when the door opened. “She’s fine. She’s awake and still a little loopy.” Bruce said with a small smile. “She called me Brucey.” He chuckled slightly. “She’s sleepy but asking for her ‘guardian angels’ by the way.”
We all let out a soft chuckle and Nat and I made our way into the room to see y/n trying to rip the IV out of her arm. “No baby…” I mumbled taking her hands into mine. “You need to keep them in for now okay?” I looked at her face and her big green eyes looked up at me, brimmed with tears.
“I don’t like it…” She mumbled. I cooed kissing her knuckles gently. “I know but it’ll help you get better okay?” A small whimper came out of her mouth before she turned to Natasha.
“Mama… hi…” She giggled sleepily up at Natasha who smiled softly and she brushed her fingers over the girls cheek bone. “Hi detka… you aren’t going to remember any of this tomorrow huh? Well i’ll soak it in while i can hmm?” She asked softly sitting next to the girl.
“Mama don’t leave…” Natasha chuckled.
“I’m not detka…” Y/n scooted over slightly looking up at Nat with the biggest puppy dog eyes I had ever seen. “Mama cuddle…?” Natasha hesitated, making the girls eyes water. “Mama…?”
Natasha instantly laid down next to the girl and pulled her small frame into her arms petting down the auburn hair. “Mamas here detka…” I sat down beside the two of them and started playing with her hair. She glanced up at me and smiled sleepily. “Hi momma…” She mumbled burying into my hand.
“Hi malyshka. It’s time to go back to sleep for a little okay?” She nodded a little and buried into Natasha, arms wrapping around mine. I chuckled and looked at Nat who stared at the girl in her arms, her eyes filled with love.
“Goodnight Detka. I love you.”
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changbunnies · 4 months
Text
If You Call Me, (18+)
♡ Pairing: Bad Boy!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader
♡ Genre: heavy angst, fluff, very slice of life at times, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, college au, slow burn, eventual smut, kind of love at first sight?
♡ Word Count: 43.4k
♡ Summary: After spending much of her high school life mercilessly bullied, Y/N hoped that going to college would finally allow her to move on from her past and put the pain behind her. Her hopes are crushed when it becomes apparant that the biggest perpetrator doesn't intend on letting the past stay the past- that is, until she gets unexpectedly rescued by the one person her past bullies seem to fear messing with, and he promises to protect her whenever she calls him.
♡ Warnings: flashbacks to bullying, physical assault, implied sexual assault (nothing is explicitly written), past / referenced parental death (not described), self-worth issues and self-destructive behavior, an abundance of strong language, discussions around depression / being depressed, brief descriptions of blood and injury, theft.
♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (baby, angel), implied loss of virginity (reader), as usual for my works there is so much kissing, nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), handjob, multiple orgasms, protected piv (shocking)
♡ Notes: please keep in mind that heavy topics and traumatizing events are a main theme of this fic, so please read with discretion! don't force yourself to read something you can't handle and won't enjoy! other than that, you can also read the story on my a03 where it is divided into chapters here (and includes an update on where i've been) and if you're interested, you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams
♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.
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Isolation, exile, a profound sense of loneliness. Those are the feelings you are used to, the feelings that have permeated your being and seeped into the very foundations of who you are as a person. And you weren't always this way– in fact, you can pinpoint the exact moment in time where a sad, loathful existence became all you knew.
It began a little over 3 years ago, when you started your first day of high school. That first spring semester came upon you quickly, and while you were anxious to begin, there was an almost equal level of excitement. You unfortunately were arriving alone, with your friends from middle school having spread out to various different schools that suited either their families or their own ambitions for their future.
While you would have liked to go to the same prestigious schools as some of your friends, your father simply didn’t have the money to pay for that sort of thing. On top of that, admissions were fiercely competitive, and being intelligent didn’t matter if you weren’t in the top 1% lucky enough to earn yourself a scholarship. You needed to be perfect in every single way to be considered for the honor, and that’s something you simply weren’t, and would never be.
Maybe that was bleak, but you preferred to keep your hopes and expectations grounded in realism. You wouldn’t say that you lacked confidence necessarily– just that you know what is a realistic outcome and what isn’t. And realistically, what were the chances of a miracle happening? Slim to none. So you tempered your expectations, you kept your hope on a leash, and you continued to have mundane hopes and dreams.
So it wasn’t arriving at your new, average school alone that made you the way you are now; you’d made your peace with that long before it happened. Sure, you would miss the friends you made in your younger years, but high school is supposed to be the place with the most opportunity. As long as you gave it your best effort, you’d make new friends and new memories. You’d discover what your goals for the future are, you’d work towards them with earnesty and diligence, you’d make your father proud.
At least, that was your mindset going into it; and maybe those thoughts were a bit more optimistic than your usual, but they weren’t unrealistic by any means. All those hopes were tangible and achievable, nothing about them should have been out of reach or unobtainable. And it wasn’t like you were losing contact with your friends forever– cellphones existed, and it would only be a matter of time before a free weekend arrived for you to meet up with them again. So all in all, you’d felt good. Sure, your circumstances weren’t the most ideal, but you were more than capable of making the best of them.
That’s what you thought at the time, anyways. Despite the perceived realism of your wishes, it quickly became clear to you that life had other intentions for you in the name of Park Jaehyung. A boy in the same class as you, who took a keen interest in you for reasons beyond your understanding.
It started with you noticing that he was often looking at you. You’d look up from your textbook or notes, eyes aimed at the board or your teacher for further instruction, and you’d notice his gaze in your peripheral vision. It didn’t bother you necessarily; you were friendless after all, and you thought maybe he was just trying to figure out if he should approach you.
You knew first hand how shyness or doubts could make a decision you really wanted to make more difficult than it needed to be, and the simple act of approaching a person for friendship could become the most nerve racking experience of your life. You even considered approaching him first to make it easier on him. There were plenty of times you were able to be the brave friend simply because you wanted to help, moments where all anxieties were trumped by the simple desire to help a friend.
However, he ended up approaching you first in the end, on an otherwise uneventful Friday. Most of your classmates left quickly, eager to get a start on their weekends or meetup with fellow club members for practice for their upcoming events. You were nervous as he approached but not necessarily in a negative way; at the time, you had no reason to believe he had any bad intentions with you. In fact, you were excited at the prospect of finally making a friend in your new environment after weeks of being awkward around everyone.
You were so ignorantly optimistic.
When you finished tucking your things away and lifted your head to look at Jaehyung, you met him with a smile. The conversation was pleasant at first, albeit a bit mundane. Simple small talk such as “how did you do on the test,” “how do you like the school,” and things of that nature. You don’t remember how long you two talked like that, but what you do remember is the shift in atmosphere when his friends came into the room looking for him.
“What are you still doing in here, Jae? We’ve- Oh?” you remember one of his friends saying as he stepped into the room, pausing his sentence when he noticed the two of you stood at your desk talking. The shift in Jaehyung’s expression was shockingly instant, the positivity of the boy in front of you quickly warping into an animosity that you could hardly comprehend. The friend, who you recognized as a boy who sat in the back of the classroom, let out a laugh as he stood in the doorway.
“I knew it! You do like her,” the boy chuckled with a smug expression. Jaehyung scowled as he turned away to face his friend's direction. “I told you, I don’t. I was just telling her to stay away from me,” he spits at his friend, “She’s obsessed with me.”
You were stunned, blood running cold as you looked at him in bewilderment. You just spent the last several minutes talking pleasantly and laughing, and now he’s lying about it right in front of you? So blatantly? Why? Before you could even open your mouth to defend yourself, his friend laughed loudly. “I told you, you need to stop playing with the easy ones. They get way too attached, man.” He’d said as Jaehyung stepped away from you quickly, making his way to the door with haste.
You simply watched, the words playing in a loop in your brain. Jaehyung took one last glance at you before the pair of them exited the room, leaving you by yourself with your thoughts running a mile a minute. Easy? Easy how? Because you were alone all the time? Because you’re shy? You didn’t really understand why his friend said that, or why Jae’s attitude changed so quickly. Naively, you started to think that maybe it was all a big misunderstanding, and you could clear it up on Monday when you saw him again. It was unlikely, but the shift in tone was so sudden that you really had nothing else to grasp onto to make sense of it.
But Monday came, and it was immediately clear to you that the pleasant Jaehyung you’d known for a short time was entirely fake. He’d approach you with venom, antagonize you any chance he got, his friends always cackling in the background. He’d call you names and push you around, a sick enjoyment clear on his face every time. You’d wondered if this was his intention all along; to make you like him, to spend time with you because you were vulnerable, before he’d turn it all around on you and embarrass you. His friend walking in on you in the classroom probably just sped things up a bit, and made him lose the need to build trust with you first.
Some days, you’d be lucky and were able to avoid them by bolting out of the room the minute the bell rang. Of course there were still times they caught up to you or got you into a corner, but for the most part, the strategy had worked. Eventually though, that method became nearly impossible as they got used to the trick and found ways to get you in a corner consistently. You only ever managed to catch a break on days that they needed to stay behind for detention or to be disciplined by the staff.
You hoped, you prayed, harder than you ever had for anything, that one day they would grow tired of tormenting you and just leave you alone. That staff would actually help you instead of turning a blind eye, only intervening when the boys’ actions inconvenienced their ability to work. You prayed they’d get suspended, expelled even- an unrealistic hope you knew would never come true, as little of a priority to the school’s staff as you were.
But hope was all you had then. In those incredibly dark days, where your life was the hardest it had ever been, you’d started to see the appeal of having outlandish dreams. It was comforting to imagine a world where everything about your life was perfect, where you'd easily obtained your goals and led the life you had always dreamed of, free of hurt and sadness. There was no comfort in being a realist, no solace in the tangible. And you were tired. Not the physical kind of tired that came with a hard day's work, but mentally.
You were exhausted from the constant abuse, the unending loneliness, the hopelessness that was laid out so plainly in front of you. And so you would hope; hope for a better day, an easier existence, a friend. You hoped that you’d be a braver person than you were the day before, hoped that one day the school would finally take action, hoped that one day Jae would get bored of you and finally leave you alone.
You knew painfully well how improbable it was, but it was all you had. All of it was out of your control, no matter what you did or how hard you prayed; it didn’t matter, it wouldn’t change, but even still you couldn’t let go of that hope. It was around that time however, that you realized there was something you could control- your academic scores. If you just devoted yourself to studying, to doing well on tests and keeping up your GPA, you could get yourself into a good school and put all this behind you.
You didn’t get into as good of a school as you would have liked, the strain that Jaehyung’s bullying put on your brain made studying a herculean effort, but you managed to do well enough to get accepted into a decent college just outside the city. It was enough- as long as you stuck to campus, you’d likely never see Jae again. He’d stay in the city, doing god knows what, and you’d get the fresh start you desperately needed, away from the person that made you miserable.
It's been 6 months since you moved into the campus dorms and began attending classes. Your roommates already knew each other, having been childhood friends who promised to go to the same school, but they never made you feel left out or like an outsider in your shared dorm room. They were kind, funny, and outgoing, and it would be no exaggeration to say they adopted you, bringing you out of your shell bit by bit and helping you return to the person you used to be.
There’s still pain, sadness, and loneliness, of course. Those feelings don’t just go away, but for the first time in years you began to feel.. Happy. Like things were finally going your way. You could breathe without needing to constantly look over your shoulder, or be perpetually afraid of when a moment of happiness would inevitably crumble. You could finally live. The universe seemed to want to have a laugh at your expense, however- because what would be more ironic and tragic than bringing you back to the person you hate most.
You’d never been to a party- not entirely by choice, but because the opportunity had never come your way, solitary and friendless as you were. And now that you were in college, where the surroundings are rife with parties and carefree nights, it just felt.. Unnatural for you to be involved. Like you were trying to blend where you didn’t belong, and that everyone would see through you, would recognize you for what you were all through high school; a girl desperate for friends that no one ultimately cared about.
But your roommates, the social butterflies that they were, insisted that you come with them after excitedly telling you of the invite they received. You protested at first, feeling like you'd be much too awkward and out of place in the situation to have any fun, but they were tireless in their efforts to convince you to go with them. And really, you couldn't blame them for trying so hard- you'd told them about your desire to branch out, to make more friends and experience new things, and a party was arguably one of the best places to do that. So you conceded in the end, letting them help you plan your outfit and be your guides through what was supposed to be a fun, new experience. 
And it was fun, for a time. Your friends helped you come out of your shell the most you’d ever had, introducing you to other people they knew either from their classes or from the clubs they were part of. You felt included, like you were finally part of a group, like you no longer had to be the person who watched from afar while others mingled and laughed together. 
It’s almost funny how that feeling of belonging and joy you finally felt came crashing down on you in an instant. You didn’t see him at first, and if you had, you definitely wouldn’t have separated yourself from your friends. You were supposed to be gone just a moment, a quick run to the bathroom and refresh of your drink before you’d rejoin them.
But there Jae was, standing near the stairs that led up to the bathroom, chatting with the same group of friends he’d had in high school. Your mind reeled, blood chilling as your eyes settled on him for the first time since graduation. You stood frozen for a moment, body being bumped by those trying to dance or move past you as the music continued to blare.
You suddenly became conscious of every little thing- the volume of the music in your ears, the amount of people standing between you and him, how the hairs on your neck and arm began to stand on end. You could feel the way your palms clammed up as you closed your fingers into a fist, and the thumping of your heart became loud and erratic, to the point it began to drown out everything else.  
You tried to rationalize with yourself, to calm your screaming nerves and bring your racing heart under your control. He hadn’t noticed you, and if you were lucky, and quick, he wouldn’t at all. Besides, you weren’t the same person you were in high school. You had friends now, a new home and a new life. He couldn’t torment you anymore- you wouldn’t let him. 
You take a breath, steeling yourself to walk past the man who brought you so much misery, and hope for the best. Your legs felt like lead, each step taking excruciating effort to complete. You try to keep your head down, letting your hair fall over your face to hide your recognizable features as much as possible.
You look up as you reach the steps, realizing that you’re unconsciously holding your breath as you do. Your eyes meet- not Jae’s, but his friends. And you can tell by the way he laughs, one of disbelief as much as it is amusement, that he recognizes you easily. “What?” you hear Jae question as he turns his head to see what his friend is reacting to, his eyes landing squarely on you. 
Dread is the only word that can be used to describe what you feel when his eyes meet yours. Your reaction is immediate, panic settling in before you could even hope to act rationally as you dart up the stairs. You just had to make it to the bathroom, and then everything would be fine. And you do, closing the door shut quickly behind you and locking it with a loud click.
You take a moment to breathe, to think with clarity now that you were within the safe space of a closed, locked room. You’re not proud of the visceral reaction seeing Jae gave you, the way you ran as soon as you saw him,  in what likely appeared to be a drunk girl’s desperate dash for the bathroom to those settled around the steps. It was certainly unceremonious and embarrassing, and you hate the thought that it gave Jae or any of his friends a laugh.
You let out a sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends, hoping they’re not too drunk or that the music is too loud for them to hear their phones. You do your business, wash your hands, check your appearance in the mirror. You check your phone, and then check it again, and then once more, but no response from your friends ever comes through. 
You sigh, knowing you can’t camp out in the bathroom much longer than you have already. There are loads of people here, and someone’s going to need it sooner or later. And besides, he surely wouldn’t still target you now that you were all grown adults, right? It’s likely he didn’t even follow after you, and is just laughing that even now you’re still afraid of him. But you can’t let your fear of him control you the way it did when you were in school together. 
With another breath to calm your nerves, you unlock and open the door, and see that a small line did in fact start to build in front of the bathroom door while you were holed up inside of it. You offer an apology to the people waiting as you move past to allow the first person in, making your way quickly back towards the steps in the hopes that Jae is either no longer in that area, or has no interest in you anymore, and that you can return to where your friends are without issue. 
But of course, he’s there, standing at the top of the steps, very clearly waiting for you. Your heart sinks to your stomach, the smile that spreads on his face making you sick. “Long time no see, huh?” he says as he takes a step closer to you, his light, airy voice a stark contrast to the intentions you know he has. You don’t respond, which he takes as his sign to continue. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Don’t you want to catch up?” 
“I need to get back to my friends,” you say, finally finding your voice after the initial shock. It’s not as strong as you’d like, but considering you’ve never stood up for yourself before now, it’s enough to show how much you’ve changed since he last saw you. “Oh, you have friends now? That’s interesting,” he responds easily, taking what little pride for yourself you fostered and crushing it beneath his heel.
Before you realize it, your back is pressed against the nearest door, Jae closing the distance between you with proficient ease. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes darting to the side where the line for the bathroom remains unchanged. If you made a scene, would they help you? You honestly weren’t sure; they were all strangers to you, with varying levels of intoxication affecting them, and from their perspective, you and Jae could easily appear to be a couple sharing an intimate moment before trying to sneak away to a room. The thought alone makes your stomach churn. 
“Oh don’t worry about them, they won’t interrupt,” Jae says, that same sickeningly smug smile on his face as he seemingly has the same thought you just had. You know what comes next- his hands on you, a contact you loathe above all else, that makes your skin scream and recoil. Things were supposed to be different now. You weren’t supposed to ever see him again, but maybe you were a fool for believing that you created enough distance from him for that to be the case. 
But you didn’t come this far to be the same person you were then- you were supposed to be different, to be strong. You want to be strong, to have the courage to stand up for yourself and tell him to go fuck himself. If you don’t act now, then what was it all for? You can’t let yourself go back to the meek person who just accepted it whenever she was hurt. You clench your fists, you gather your courage, and for the first time ever, you raise your voice to him. “Don’t fucking touch me.” 
He doesn’t take you seriously in the slightest, laughing as if your words mean nothing as he reaches his hand out to touch you. In a moment of unparalleled bravery on your part, you slap it away, conveying clearly that you won’t allow him to torment you anymore. There’s surprise in his eyes for a moment, though it fades as quickly as it appeared, replaced by seething anger.
He wraps your hair in his fist, holding your head back with so much force that a searing ache spreads over your scalp. “You wanna try that again? I don't think you're thinking clearly." Jaehyung's voice is dark and threatening as he holds your head in place. So now he’s taking you seriously, huh? You glare at him, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as your fists tremble, 3 years worth of contempt rising forth all at once, practically begging to be set free, to be unleashed on the awful man before you who made your life a living hell. 
You were still scared of him, if you were being honest with yourself, but you had to be different. You had to. He was much stronger, his grip on you was painful, but if you gave up now, then what was it all for? Your perseverance had to mean something, it had to lead you to somewhere better, to help you become someone you were proud to be. You can’t let it be meaningless. 
You’re about to open your mouth to scream, determined to make a scene that can’t go ignored by anyone in the vicinity, when a voice you don’t recognize takes the both of you by surprise. “What the fuck are you doing?” You hear the unfamiliar voice call from the direction of the stairs, and you’re able to turn your head just enough to see someone standing at the top of them, arms crossed with an incredulous look on his face.
“Shit,” you hear Jaehyung mutter under his breath when he turns his gaze away from you, looking at the man who is (thankfully) interrupting the moment. “What are you doing here?” Jae asks as he slowly loosens his grip on your hair, his teeth clenching as he begrudgingly releases you from his grasp.
“Don’t tell me you came to this party not knowing you’re in my fucking house. That’s my room you’re blocking, so move,” the man says, voice stern and unflinching. Jaehyung’s expression in response is strange- he’s very clearly annoyed, angry, but there’s something else there too that you’ve never seen on him. He’s… intimidated? “Oh come on, man. You don’t mind letting an old friend borrow your room, right?” Jae’s voice turns jovial, a vain attempt at familiarity and friendliness. The stranger’s expression changes, a scoff leaving his lips as he looks at Jae in disbelief. 
The man looks at you next, observing your body language and quickly processing what it tells him. You’re very clearly distressed, body trembling, eyes angry and glossy with unshed tears; you want out of this, and now. “Doesn’t seem to me that she’s into you,” the stranger says matter-of-factly, stating the truth of the matter as he sees it. “And you’re insane if you think I’m letting you use my room for this shit. Or anyone’s for that matter.” 
“She’s just shy, isn’t that right? You’re not used to us being interrupted?” Jae says it with a sickly sweet smile before he turns his gaze back to you, leaning closer as his next words leave him in a whisper intended for only you to hear, a not so thinly veiled threat for you to play along with him, “I’m not done with you yet.” 
If it were the you of half a year ago, you probably would have buckled under the pressure, yielded to whatever it was he wanted from you. You would’ve been too afraid of the repercussions that would follow if you didn’t, afraid of what worse action he’d have in store for you if you didn’t listen to his commands. 
And that’s what Jae wants- he wants to put that fear back inside you, to remind you of all that he made you feel, all that he caused you to lose, to turn you back into the person he knew and expected you to be. You refuse to give him the satisfaction. “Get the fuck away from me,” you say, doing your best to make your voice as steady as you can possibly make it. 
You can feel the rage radiating off him, and you have to admit, it’s extremely gratifying to watch him struggle, to see him flounder after being challenged. He storms off, anger and bitterness seeping off him, as the man who saved you steps aside to let him pass. A sigh of relief leaves you once Jae is out of sight, thankful for the ordeal to finally be over.
“Are you alright?” the stranger asks as he takes a tentative step closer to you, clearly not wanting to make you feel boxed in and cornered the way Jaehyung had. “Yeah, I’m fine, thank you,” you say as you separate yourself from what is evidently his bedroom door, fixing your clothes in the places that Jae caused it to crumple. 
When you look up, you see that he is looking you over for any noticeable injury- whoever he is, it’s apparent he knows who Jae is and how he does things. It also makes you curious about how they know each other, and what it is about him that made Jae leave without putting up a real fight. 
He has dark curly hair that pairs well with his piercing gaze, but you didn't find him particularly frightening based on appearance alone. In fact, you actually thought he'd look sweet if he wasn't frowning so hard right now. He did seem quite athletic though, and you could see how bulky his arms were underneath the sleeves of his black tee. Maybe it was the difference in strength that deterred him? Jae is stronger than you, sure, but he wasn’t as built as the stranger who saved you.
Or maybe Jae is simply all bark, and no bite? That’d be ironic- your biggest tormentor being someone who is inherently a coward. But isn’t that how it usually goes? The weak preying on the weaker for the sake of gratification and a sense of superiority they wouldn’t otherwise obtain. And who better to play that role for him than you? You, who was lonely and eager to make a friend, who was too timid and kind for her own good, and without the inner strength to fight back. 
“You’re welcome to join me in my room, if you want. Uhm, not in like, a weird way or anything- just to make sure Jae will leave you alone. We’ll leave the door open so you’re comfortable and- uh, yeah.” You can’t help but smile a little following his suggestion- it’s a little awkward, but well intentioned, and you appreciate the attempt he’s making to comfort you following a tense interaction. 
You follow him inside, and true to his word, he makes no move to close the door behind you, leaving it wide open and looking out into the adjacent hallway. Looking around, you notice that his room is more.. Minimalistic than you would’ve expected from a college aged guy. A decently sized bed, a bookshelf that contained more empty space than anything, a desk that held only a laptop and a rather old looking stuffed wolf toy that you assumed was from his childhood. 
There was no clutter, no mess, no decoration- nothing that tells you a guy in his early 20s occupies the space. Apart from the led lights circling the ceiling, the walls are bare, with no pictures or posters to give insight into his interests or personality. “You can sit wherever,” he says, intending to let you have first pick for comfort’s sake. 
You decide to sit at his desk, deciding that is the better of your two options, and he flops on his bed, eyes on the ceiling as a slight sigh leaves his lips. “Regretting throwing a party?” you ask, noticing how exhausted he seems to be- dark circles under his eyes serving as a clear sign that something in his life is causing him fatigue and lack of sleep. 
“It’s not my party, it’s my brothers. The whole party thing isn’t really for me, but he wants the “whole college experience” or whatever, so, you know.. Yeah,” he closes his eyes for a moment as he speaks, seeming to think about what he wants to say before he continues to speak. “He won't have time for things like this once the fall semester starts, so why not let him have his fun until then? That’s what I think, anyways.” 
You nod, silently wondering if his brother is anyone you met downstairs, though you don’t recall meeting anyone that looks similar to him. “Do you both go to school here?” you ask, thinking it’d be nice if they do- you could do with some more friends in your life, especially ones that go to the same campus you do. 
“Oh, no, I-” he hesitates a moment, an almost indiscernible look on his face as he slightly tenses, just enough for you to gather that this topic is a bit tense for him. “I dropped out. Of high school, I mean. The whole school thing doesn’t suit me- got enough bills to pay and things to take care of without that added expense and worry, you know?”
You get it- you honestly do. Dropping out is a hard decision to make, one that society doesn’t understand comes with great personal grief and difficulty. Most people who drop out don’t do it because they want to, but because they have to, or feel there’s no other choice in the face of whatever it is they’re dealing with. There was either a time you considered it, when your bullying was at its worst, and before you found solace in pouring all your energy into studying. 
“I completely understand; I almost dropped out too. And I wouldn’t even be going to school now if it wasn’t for my scholarship.” “Really?” he sits up now, surprise written on his face as he looks at you. “Yeah, I.. didn’t have the best high school experience,” you sigh, hesitating to meet his gaze right away. He’s a stranger to you, you don’t know what happened to him, and he doesn’t know what happened to you, but there’s a strange sort.. Connection you feel? 
Like kindred spirits- two souls who lived different lives, who are on a different path, but somehow are still the same. You look at him again, realizing you don’t feel the need to hesitate or hold back your words. There’s something about him that seems trustworthy, and the sincere empathy in his eyes makes you believe that he’s someone you can confide in without regrets. 
“I was depressed, alone. I had no friends, and I don’t mean it felt that way, I literally didn’t have anyone. And Jaehyung, he- well, you saw. It was like that every single day, unrelenting. Studying was the only thing I had to escape my thoughts and feelings, so I poured everything I had into my grades. I started to view college as an escape- like if I got accepted, all my problems would be solved. I could start over, be a different person,” you swallow, emotions threatening to choke you up as you talk about your experience, but you continue on despite it. 
“Unfortunately, schools are competitive, and recruiters could easily see that despite having good grades I didn’t have the confidence or social standing to back myself up, so they chose other people. But the school here accepted me, and even though it’s still close to where I grew up I hoped it would be enough. I could meet new people, get away from everything that brought me down, and become the person I always wanted to be. And I have- you know, for the most part anyways.”
There’s a silence that lingers for a moment, one that makes you start to feel stupid for deciding to unload all that information on someone you just met, but when you meet his eyes again you no longer feel shame. As before, there is a sincere empathy, an understanding, a care, that you’d never experienced before now. 
You never talked about Jae to anyone new you met, and even your friends only know about him in the vaguest of terms because it was so hard to relive and talk about openly. But the person you met today- he saw it, in its rawest, unfiltered form, and he cared. Genuinely cared. And when you think back to all the times someone saw what was happening and ignored it, knew you were suffering and didn’t think twice about it, that care matters. 
He looks contemplative as well; like he’s thinking carefully on his words, and what impact they’ll have, as if formatting the perfect response to your admission is of crucial importance to him. And in a way, it is, because even though he’s just met you, he sees you for who you are- someone like him. Damaged. Lonely. Yearning for a connection that doesn’t yet exist, but could if you found the right person. 
He opens his mouth to speak, the words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, but is quickly interrupted and drowned out by your phone suddenly ringing. You pull it out of your pocket quickly, and see your friend's name and photo brightly illuminated on the screen. “Y/N? I’m so sorry, I just saw your text! Are you still upstairs? I’ll come get you-” your friend comes through loud and urgent, doing her best to be heard over the loud music that surrounds her downstairs. 
“I’m fine, I promise! Where are you right now? I’ll meet you,” you assure her as you stand up from your seat, preparing yourself to leave the room. The conversation ends quickly, with you confirming with each other that you’ll meet at the base of the stairs and then head home together. 
“I’ll get going now, my friends are waiting for me, but.. before I go I just wanna say thank you for tonight, uhm..” your sentence trails off as a realization hits you. Right. You still don’t know his name yet. Thankfully, he seems to know where you’re going, and offers his name to you before you have to ask. “Chan,” he says simply, “I’m Bang Chan.” 
You smile as you repeat his name, offering your own afterwards to which he acknowledges with a nod. You make it to the door before you stop, turning back to look at him one last time before you go. “I’ll see you around..?” you ask, hoping you don't come across as too desperate to meet him again. 
“Mm, yeah, sure,” Chan replies nonchalantly, though the corners of his mouth raise in the hint of a smile. And though it’s only a slight display, it makes you smile back at him. Because even though he comes across as aloof and reserved, you've gotten the impression that he's a nice person underneath his layers. 
You found yourself thinking a lot about him when you were in bed that night; wondering about who he is beyond what you initially see, about what makes him who he is and drives what he does. Someone who is clearly empathetic beneath their rough exterior, who has compassion even for those he doesn't know, someone you want to befriend. You hoped you'd meet and talk to him again soon. 
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You sigh as you approach Sunshine Cafe, your go-to stop for coffee and a sweet breakfast before beginning your day in earnest. The fall semester has spared you no mercy since it began weeks ago, with your new professors hitting you with an increasingly grueling workload and frustratingly tight deadlines. You’ve barely had time for anything, and your daily coffee is truly the only thing getting you through the immense amount of homework and academic papers that’ve been dropped into your lap. 
It always occurred to you that you greatly overestimated your ability to run into Chan again. You thought it’d only be a matter of time, at first. Though he doesn’t attend college like you and his brother do, he still has a house near campus, and even if meeting at another party was unlikely, there were still plenty of places you could end up seeing one another. And yet, either due to the amount of work that needed done keeping you home, or Chan himself also having a busy schedule, that time never came. 
Should you have just asked for his number before you left? It’s something you’d think about since that night, wondering if that would’ve been too forward or made him uncomfortable, because who knows if he wanted to be your friend as much as you wanted to be his. There was a lot you liked about Chan following your first interaction with him, but was there anything he liked about you? 
It was hard to say; you certainly hoped so, but you weren’t exactly confident in your ability to make connections with people. Apart from that, a search of his name online didn’t lead to any social media platforms you could add or follow him on. A bit strange for someone his age to be completely void of a social media presence you might think, but he didn’t really seem the type to spend his days scrolling instagram or writing personal posts on twitter in the first place. 
And honestly, wasn’t it silly to be so stuck on someone you’d met and talked to so briefly? You were broaching pathetic territory if you were being honest with yourself, but you truly couldn’t help it. There was something different about him, and not in that corny love at first sight way your friends might assume if you brought the issue up to them. You could see it in the way he interacted with you and listened to you. 
The more you thought about it though, the more embarrassed you felt about it; why did you unload your deepest feelings on a stranger? Because he was nice to you? That’s so pitiful, you’d laugh at yourself if it wasn’t so depressing. Even if you did run into him again, it’d probably be best to avoid his gaze, and save yourself from the realization that he actually thought you were a fucking weirdo and only listened to you to be polite. 
God, you were spiraling- one minute thinking it’d be best if he never saw you again, and the next praying he’d show up in your life again, even if just for a moment. But really, you just wanted to know- know for sure if you just imagined the way he cared to make yourself better, or if what you felt then was real. And if it was real, why? 
No one ever protected you before, and it was hard for you to imagine a world where someone would do that for you purely out of the kindness of their heart. You know selfless, compassionate people exist, but not for you. Even with the friends you had now, you’d hesitate to believe that they’d do anything for you beyond the surface level of friendship. And that was no fault of their own of course, you knew it was a response to your own trauma that led you to think that way, but now that you were met with the evidence that someone could be kind to you purely for the sake of it, you struggled to grapple with it. 
You could argue that your friends are nice to you purely because you’re also assigned roommates, and you needed to have a good relationship for your home life to be copasetic. They introduced you to the people in their life because living in their space meant you’d be around them as well, and by extension they were only nice to you because they needed to be. But Chan- what reason did he have to do anything for you? To listen to you or offer kindness? 
He wasn’t the first person to show you kindness after you came here, but he was the first to do so with seemingly no explanation behind it. To be kind and help you just because it was what was right, and for no reason other than that. And that’s what made him different, and made you want to see him again, to get to know him.
Another sigh leaves your lips now as you stand in line, waiting to order. You really need to stop dwelling on it and focus on more critical things at hand, i.e your paper that's due tonight and still needs to be proofread. Yes, it’s best to do what you’re used to doing, and pour all your frustrations and worries into getting yourself the best grades you possibly can. You’ll head back to your dorm as soon as your coffee is in hand, and spend the rest of your morning (and a good portion of your afternoon) into ensuring that your paper is as perfect as it can be. 
Felix, the blonde, freckled barista who has come to memorize your order, smiles sweetly as soon as he sees you. “Here’s your usual,” he says as he hands it over to you the moment you reach the counter; benefits to being a regular, and a creature of habit, you suppose- lately, he always has your order ready for you by the time you make it to the front of the line. “Thanks, I really need it today,” you reply as you put your card in the reader to pay. 
“Professor still kicking your ass?” he asks as he confirms the payment on his screen, letting you take your card out swiftly and fit it back into your wallet. “Pretty much,” you answer, though it’s not entirely true anymore; the amount of work you need to complete is definitely a major stressor, but it’s your brain’s fixation on Chan, and your subsequent worry about how you were perceived by him, that plague yours thoughts and makes finishing your work much harder than it needs to be. Felix doesn’t need to hear about any of that, though. 
You thank him for serving you before you step away to allow the line to continue to flow, and he wishes you luck with the rest of your day before he greets his next customer. You scarf down your doughnut before you step outside to leave the building, the crisp fall air instantly helping to bring your mind back to a place of normalcy. A few small sips of your drink, a tossing of your trash in the public bin, and you’re ready to make your way back to your room to tackle the behemoth of a paper you wrote that needs reviewing. 
You make it only a few steps before you’re stopped by a voice you dread hearing saying your name from behind you, one that the universe seems to love to remind you that you can’t run away from. “I’ve been looking for you,” he smiles as he steps in front of you, cutting off your path and making you stop walking. The blood in your veins feels ice cold, the alarms in your brain deafeningly loud. Fuck. How did Jae find you here? 
Stumbling upon each other at a random party, as unpleasant and unfortunate as it was, was at least feasible. College parties weren’t limited to the host’s affiliation; word of mouth took campus parties to new heights, their friends invite their friends who then invite theirs, turning what one might intend to be a simple get together between close friends and roommates into something much larger than the host ever intended. 
Yes, as much as you hated it when you ran into him, the party setting you were brought into made the most logistical sense. But here? At a small off-campus coffee shop at 9am? What the fuck was he doing here? Surely if this was a place he frequented you wouldn’t have gone so many months without coming across one another. Which leaves you to think only one thing, that you desperately hope isn’t true- he sought you out on purpose.
“I don’t want to see you,” you say, voice as stern as you can possibly make it despite the way your nerves threaten to eat you alive. You’re doing your best not to panic, reasoning with yourself that things on your side in the situation; you’re in a public space, on a fairly active street with plenty of witnesses, and lots of options for safety. As long as you don’t freeze up or mentally shut down, you’ll be okay. 
You take a step in an attempt to walk past him, but of course, he doesn’t want to allow you to leave so easily. “C’mon, don’t be like that,” he says in a tone that’s supposed to portray himself as innocently pleading for your time, but his smirk deceives his intentions. You opt to ignore him, shifting to the side to once again make your way past him. 
He reaches out to grab your arm, instantly stopping you in your tracks. “Let go of me!” you protest, trying to pull yourself out of his grasp, but to no avail. Your eyes scan the area, seeking a way to get yourself out of this situation as quickly as possible. As if sensing this, Jae pulls you towards the nearby shop alley, dragging you into it with him. 
Your coffee falls to the ground in the struggle, splashing your legs and drenching the soles of your shoes. Your eyes water, race burning red as a wave of emotions washes over you- shame, anger, misery, all of which make him laugh. “It’s a shame we were interrupted last time, isn’t it? And you don’t have your guard dog here to protect you, how sad,” he taunts, infinitely condescending in the way he speaks to you, “Go ahead and cry, he’s not gonna save you this time.” 
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying your hardest to suppress the rising panic. You need to will yourself to move, to be loud, to make it impossible for him to take advantage of you any further. You take a breath and open your eyes, surprised to see someone standing directly behind Jae- Chan. He’s yanked away from you in a sudden motion as a hand grabs his shoulder, stumbling backwards and landing awkwardly on his right foot to steady himself. “Wha- Who the fuck?” 
“Fuck off. Don’t make me teach you a lesson again,” Chan’s voice is low as he grabs Jae by the wrist and twists it, causing him to grit his teeth and release you from his grasp. Jae scowls as Chan’s grip on his wrist loosens, curses and insults quickly being muttered under his breath as he shoots you both furious looks. “You heard me. Go,” Chan says, eyebrow raised with a look that says ‘test me and you’ll regret it.’
Begrudgingly, he retreats while calling you both less than kind names and rubbing his wrist. Chan hears them of course, but making sure you’re okay is more of a priority than fixing Jae’s loose mouth. “You alright..?” he asks, looking you over for injury as he did the first time he stopped Jae from harming you. You stayed silent however, your brain struggling to process the fact that Chan is here and helped you again, and he eventually frowns. Jae may be a fucking imbecile but he was smart when he wanted to be; he didn’t hurt you enough to leave any marks- at least not anywhere Chan could see clearly. 
On top of that, you still hadn’t responded yet, and wasn’t entirely sure when your altercation even began; it was pure coincidence that he turned the corner to reach Sunshine Cafe and saw you being pulled away to the adjacent alley. But he heard what he said as he approached; “guard dog,” Jae called him. Yeah, that’s exactly what he’ll be if Jae refuses to leave you alone- your personal guard dog, ready to attack as needed.
He cautiously taps your shoulder, his eyebrows knitting together in a clear sign of concern, “Hey… you okay..?” You nod, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat. You were in shock more than anything, you think. Jae tormented you for years, and you’d grown used to it over the years. Hair pulling, tripping, slapping, dumping water on you.. Things that though you hated, you were used to and came to expect. 
But now? Now that you’d left that behind, began to live your life with a sense of fulfillment and joy, were away from all that once dragged you to the depths of despair.. You realized how much those things still hurt, how the time and distance didn’t cure or absolve you of your pain. And you hated that he found you, hated that his presence still had an effect on you, hated how easy it was for him to reverse all of the positive progress you made, hated him most of all. 
You could tell you were shaking, felt the tears in the corners of your eyes threatening to fall, embarrassed by the fact that Chan once again has to see you at your lowest when you’ve just barely formed a friendship. It’s humiliating in a way that’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t felt it themselves- the shame that comes with feeling inadequate, in looking weak in the face of someone you don’t want to see you that way.
Chan looks down, seeing what he assumes is the remnants of your fresh coffee spilled on the concrete, whipped cream and caramel splattered in all directions from the impact they made with the ground. He kneels down, grabbing the plastic cup and turning it to the front, confirming what he already suspected; your name, written in big, black letters with a sharpie, followed by a sticker with the specifics of your order.
He looks back at you as he stands back up, still holding your cup in his hands despite how sticky it’s become from splashed coffee. “Hey, look.. I’m sorry. Jae was pissed that I helped you last time, right? Why don’t I buy you a new coffee?” “Huh? Oh- you don’t have to do that! It’s not your fault, he’s always treated me that way. He probably would’ve done this again even if you hadn’t helped the first time,” you respond, not yet meeting his gaze. 
Chan frowns at your answer; he knows Jae well enough to know that’s true, but it doesn’t piss him off any less. He’s always been like that- a coward in wolf’s clothing, always preying on whoever wants and thinking he can get away with it.  “Unlock your phone and hand it to me,” he says, holding his hand out to you expectantly. You furrow your brows in confusion, but do as he asks regardless, fishing through your pocket and quickly putting in your password before passing it to him. Chan locates your contacts page easily, adding his name and number to the relatively short list. “Call me next time,” he says as he hands it back to you.
You stare at your phone for a few moments, processing the information slowly before you look up at him. “You.. I can call you?” “Of course.” His response is nonchalant in tone, but you can tell he’s being genuine, just as before. You don’t understand why he’s consistently so kind to you, someone who is effectively a stranger, who he has no reason to look out or care for. Stopping a bad situation you come across once made enough sense, especially since it was happening in his own house, but to devote himself to regularly helping someone was completely different. Was he really that selfless? 
“What if you don’t answer..?” you finally ask after a moment, fully expecting a rejection. “I’ll answer,” he replies easily, as if that’s the only option there is. “What if Jae takes my phone? Or I can’t reach it?” you continue, because surely he can’t be serious. Why would he do that for you? Chan’s expression shifts to one you can’t read, full of thoughts and emotions you couldn’t possibly read before he speaks again, “Yell if you have to. If you call, I’ll hear it. I’ll come running as soon as I can.”
You tear up for the second time today, though this time for a reason completely different from before; you’re grateful to have someone who wants to be there for you unconditionally. After suffering for so long, you began to believe that you were beyond selfless kindness, that it was something you would never experience or have offered to you. And in your current state, it seems that even the smallest ounce of kindness is enough to make you emotional. 
“H-Hey, don’t cry!” Chan’s voice is suddenly filled with worry, a stark contrast to the aloof tone he seems to typically have. And really, he isn’t sure what to do- he’s never had to comfort a girl who was crying before. You wipe your face, trying your best to calm down quickly and offer him an appreciative smile. “Sorry, this is actually super embarrassing..” you awkwardly laugh as you rub your eyes dry, hoping that he won’t change his mind and decide you’re not worth it. 
“No, it’s okay.. You’ve been through a lot on your own,” his tone softens, clearly trying to relay sympathy for you. You nod, steadying yourself with a deep breath before you finally look at him directly, without embarrassment or shame for your feelings. “Thank you, Chan.” “Of course,” he says, giving you a small pat on the head in the same way he used to do to comfort his brothers when they were upset. “Let’s get you a new coffee, yeah?”  
You nod again, deciding to take him up on his offer and let him buy you a new coffee. “Just stick close to me, okay?” Chan reaches his free hand out to you, offering for you to take it if you’d like to. And you do, deciding to ignore the way your heart picks back up in speed when your hand is in his. You know there’s no romantic intent, but that doesn’t stop the butterflies from erupting in your stomach at the contact.
You can tell he’s just a sweet person, that there’s nothing special about this interaction, that he’d likely do this for anyone in a similar situation to you, but regardless of your rational thoughts, you can’t calm your heart, or prevent it from skipping a beat when he gives it a reassuring squeeze before leading you out of the alley.  
It doesn’t take more than a few moments to reach the cafe again, the line having drastically shortened since you were here minutes prior. Rather than wait in the line however, Chan walks directly to the counter, with you nervously in tow. The waiting customers shoot you both angry looks, but ultimately choose not to say anything about your transgression.
“I’m sorry, I need to take care of this real quick,” Felix says to the angry girl waiting at the front that Chan just caused you to cut off, giving her an apologetic look before turning to the both of you. “Channie-hyung, and… Y/N..?” He looks puzzled to see the two of you together, and really you can’t blame him. You were just here, and now here you are again, with a guy you’ve never brought up, and- 
Wait. Channie-hyung? They know each other?
“Felix, can you make her another one of these? I’ll pay for it,” Chan says, holding your ruined coffee cup to the poor barista to look at. “Don’t worry hyung, I know her order. And you don’t have to pay! I’ll take care of it,” Felix says as he takes the cup from Chan’s hands, tossing it in a bin underneath the counter before he turns to make you a new drink. Chan grumbles something under his breath about how Felix should let him pay, a subtle frown growing on his face.
“Chan,” you speak up, and he turns his head in your direction, a small “hmm?” leaving his lips. “Your other hand- it’s sticky from the coffee, isn’t it? Do you want to go rinse it off?” “Oh- yeah, uh, I guess it is,” he says, clenching and unclenching his fist as if he only just realized when you brought it up. “I’ll be right back,” he says, letting go of your hand to make his way to the public bathroom on the other end of the cafe.
You breathe a sigh of slight relief, because as much as you enjoyed holding his hand, it made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your chest. “Here you go,” Felix says as he holds your newly made drink out to you, though instead of his usual smile, he’s looking at you full of curiosity. “How do you know my brother?” he asks, and wow, does that take you by surprise.
The cute, freckled boy who takes your order everyday and serves you with a sweet smile is Chan’s brother? You honestly can’t believe it. “I uhm, met him at a party. Wasn’t it your party?” you ask, remembering how Chan told you it was his brother’s and not his. Though as you recall, you didn’t see Felix there, and you definitely would’ve remembered if he was. “Oh, no! It wasn’t mine, it was Changbin’s!”
Oh, so Chan has more than one brother then? You’re about to ask to confirm, but the lady you cut off clears her throat impatiently, clearly fed up with waiting. “Sorry ma’am, I’ll be right there!” Felix tells her politely before shifting his focus back to you, “Well, gotta get back to work, but I hope you’ll come by the house again when I’m there next time! So we can talk more and be friends outside of the cafe!” 
He then waves goodbye to you with a bright smile, turning his attention back to the customers in line while you’re left more than a little stunned. You always thought Felix seemed extremely sweet and fun to be around, so you’re definitely not opposed to seeing him outside of getting your morning coffee, but you didn’t expect a friendship to happen like this. Chan returns shortly after, and though he isn’t smiling, he does seem glad that you have a fresh coffee in your hands.
“You gonna be okay? Don’t need me to walk you to class or anything?” Chan asks and you shake your head, though the fact that he even asked practically makes your heart erupt. “N-No, I was just gonna head home, I have a paper I need to work on and turn in tonight,” you explain, and he nods in acknowledgment, thinking a moment before he speaks. “I’ll see you around then. And uh.. you know. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” 
“I will,” you smile, one that he returns ever so slightly. You thank him before you say your goodbye, waving as you make your way out of the door and back out onto the street. You take a sip of your coffee as you take your first steps back to your dorm, finding that it tastes much sweeter than the first one you had- and you like that. Everything in your life has been that way; sweeter, more enjoyable, with Jae absent from it. And you hope that with your new friends by your side to help and support you, it will stay that way.
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Chan is late getting home that night, the shit he had to do for work tonight being beyond exhausting and dirty. The first thing he does is shower, eager to get all the grime off his body so he can eat dinner and hopefully relax, if his brain and body will let him. He eats a microwave meal in relative silence when he’s clean, thinking about all that happened before he set off to work. 
He knew it was only a matter of time before he met you again, but he didn’t expect it to be in negative circumstances again. He had a job in the area that day, and figured he’d stop by Sunshine Cafe to see and get a coffee from Felix before getting things done, only to stumble on the sight of Jae dragging you off against your will. 
Without even thinking about it, he ran- he didn’t know how far Jae was going to take you, what he planned to do with you, and so he wasted no time to catch up to where he saw you go. Jae has a knack for pissing him off, but this went beyond a feeling as simple as that. What Chan felt instead was.. Disgust. The thought that Jae was easily the most reprehensible person he’d ever met, and that if he has nothing better to do than harass women, then he deserves to get his teeth knocked out of his skull- and Chan would happily be the one to do that. 
And that’s what he planned to do when he pulled Jae back, but when he saw the look on your face, your eyes full to the brim of unshed tears and fear, he stopped. He didn’t want you to see his violent side, he realized. The side of him that will punch and maim and hurt, that left people bloodied and bruised. When he told you that he was a drop out, and you didn’t judge him, and instead offered your understanding and shared your experience with him, he knew you were someone compassionate and good.
Why did people like you always get hurt? He’d seen it countless times, and it always made him sick and angry. And everyone in his life knew that about him, saw first hand the things he was willing to do to protect someone, but for some reason he didn’t want you to see it. Was it because he didn’t want to taint your impression of him? Because there was a part of him that was afraid that if you knew the kind of things he’s done, that you’d retract any desire to form a friendship with him? He wasn’t sure, but what he did know is that for whatever reason, he wanted you to see him as someone better. 
It’s just past 11:30 when he flops down the couch with a sigh next to Hyunjin, who has some drama Chan doesn’t recognize playing on the tv. It was nights like tonight he wished he could turn his brain off, and not worry about what people think of him, nor be plagued by the memories of horrible things he’s done just to survive. 
Checking his phone in hopes to find something else to focus on, he sees he received a few texts while he was in the shower- most from clients, a few updates from Changbin, who was complaining about the group project he was assigned from his professor and how he’s staying out tonight to complete it, and a few more from an unsaved number that he can safely assume is yours. 
Hi Chan, it’s Y/N! 
Thank you so much for everything. I really appreciate it &lt;3
If you’re still sure, I hope it’s okay to rely on you while I keep gathering my courage
9:12 PM ✓
it’s fine rly i’m not gonna let some dickhead like jae do whatever he wants
you can rely on me as long as you want i don’t mind
call me anytime you need
11:34 PM ✓
“What are you smiling about?” Hyunjin asks as he peers over Chan’s shoulder to take a peek. Chan jumps slightly in surprise, locking his phone screen before sliding it into his pocket. “I wasn’t smiling.” “Uh-huh, sure you weren’t. I believe you,” Hyunjin laughs in response. Chan sits there in an awkward silence for a few moments, before he glances over to see Hyunjin looking at him with a grin. 
“What?” Chan questions and Hyunjin lets out another small laugh. “Y/N, huh? Is that the girl from Changbin’s party?” Chan wants to be angry that Hyunjin saw the name on his phone and is asking about it, but honestly, he’d be curious too if it were the other way around, so he can’t fault him for asking. “Yeah. I saw her again today and gave her my number. Jae was harassing her again, and it pisses me off when he gets away with shit, so. You know.” 
He’s leaving out the part about his complex, unfamiliar feelings towards you, but Hyunjin doesn’t need to know them, he thinks. Better to leave those unsaid until he figures them out for himself. Hyunjin meanwhile clicks his tongue in disapproval, displeased to hear that Jae’s up to his usual bullshit. “What’s wrong with that dude? He and his prick friends need to get a job or something and leave everyone else alone.” 
“Well if at this point he still doesn’t get the hint, he’s an even bigger dumbass than I already think he is,” Chan says and Hyunjin laughs, agreeing with the sentiment instantly. Chan feels his phone vibrate against his leg as Hyunjin shifts his attention back to his show, and is surprised to see its response from you this close to midnight. 
Don’t say that, I might rely on you for a long time then!
11:47pm ✓
i said i don’t mind
i’m here for you okay? 
11:48pm ✓
The two of you continue to text, and unbeknownst to himself, Chan has a small smile on his face again, that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by Hyunjin. However, rather than tease his older brother again, he decides to let it be. As fun as it is to poke some fun, he did genuinely like seeing Chan smile. It felt so rare these days to see happiness on his face, and he was grateful to see it now, even if it was only by a small margin. 
Chan glances up from his phone to see if Hyunjin is still peeking at him, and is relieved to find that he isn’t. It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be seen texting you, but.. Before he dropped out, he had a reputation in high school for being a bad guy, with all kinds of rumors being spread about him during his freshman year. And while a lot of them weren’t true, he didn’t mind leaning into them and letting people believe whatever they wanted to if it meant he was left alone. He had no interest in the things his classmates were interested in; grades, exams, college applications, after school clubs… None of those things mattered. 
He was forced to grow up quickly after his parents passed away, and it left him jaded to the worries someone his age would typically have had. And while he encouraged his friends-turned-brothers to do well and go after anything they wanted to, he couldn’t find it within himself to care about such fleeting things after all he’d been through. At the time, all he wanted was to coast until graduation, and then start working full time to support himself and help his found family reach their goals. As long as the people he cared about had a chance to lead a better life than him, that was enough. 
Chan figured then, and especially when he dropped out and started working full time, that he wouldn’t have time for new friendships until much later in life, and he made his peace with that a long time ago. However, he couldn’t deny the possibility that perhaps he pushed down the idea that he did want someone to spend time with that wasn’t from his own bubble. Someone he could talk to about mundane things, who lived a normal life with normal hardships, someone who knew nothing about the shady shit he had to do to survive, and who could distract him from the weight of his responsibilities. And maybe it was okay to let you be that friend for him. 
He was sure the others would tease him and say he has a crush, but honestly, his intentions are nothing like that. Despite what rumors would lead you to believe, he’s always been the kind of person to lift up those who needed help, and give them a place next to him. Anyone who had been dealt bad cards in life, he would help if he had the means to, because he knew how awful it felt to be alone with no one to turn to. 
Regardless of gender, you both needed someone. And if you could be that someone for Chan, he would be that someone for you, because that’s just the kind of guy he is. As long as you needed him, he’d be there for you, he’d protect you, he’d be your friend. And he hoped you’d be his friend too, and that you’d never stop needing him. 
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Hiraeth; a deep sense of longing, a deep-rooted desire to return to home that no longer exists, or never existed to begin with, a homesickness tinged with grief and sorrow over what is lost and cannot be regained. A word that encompasses Chan in his entirety, though he’d be loath to admit it to any who asked, emotionally solitary as he is. 
When others feel nostalgia, there is an associated happiness- that even though you miss or long for that period of time in your life, you accept that you cannot return to it, and look back on it fondly, happy to have those memories and able to appreciate what you had. You miss the joy you felt in those simpler times, the days where you were taken care of and pampered by your parents, where every meal was provided for you and you spent all of your free time worry free, watching your favorite cartoons on tv or playing video games for hours on end. 
But what do you do when your only memories of childhood are encompassed by an overarching sadness? When what should be happy memories are tainted by the knowledge that you lost your joy too young, that fate held no mercy, not even for a child so young- what do you do? Chan wished he knew, because the reality is that even nearly 15 years since the day he lost his parents he still doesn’t know how to cope with his grief. 
And those are the thoughts that kept him up at night, his insomnia complexly woven with heartache and melancholy, unable to be separated no matter how hard he tried. He doesn’t dare check the clock, knowing that whatever number he sees reflecting back at him will just add to the misery he feels. He shifts onto his back with a sigh, eyes now pointed directly to the bare ceiling. 
How different would his life be now if his mom and dad were still here? It was no use thinking about it, it didn’t accomplish anything other than making the ache in his chest grow tighter, but he couldn’t prevent it from happening anymore than he could turn back time and change it. There was no way to make the impossible possible, and there was equally no way to prevent his brain from fixating on the what-ifs and should-bes of his life.
There was a part of him that felt selfish for not being happier- like he was asking for too much, expecting some sort of retribution for all the suffering he’d endured, though such a thing would assuredly never come. It wasn’t like he was always miserable, either- he had so many people in his life he cared about and made him feel sane when life was running him to the ground, he had enough money to afford the things he needed and keep everyone afloat, he was strong and (mostly) healthy.
He should be grateful for all those things, and he certainly is, but just.. It’s hard. You never stop missing the people you lose, he supposes. Even when you’re grateful, even when you’re happy and smiling, even when everything is seemingly perfect, the pain is still there. Lingering in every interaction, present in every moment, sometimes ignorable but never forgotten, always reminding you that the hole in your heart exists, and will only ever grow larger, impossible to fill. That’s what Chan feels. 
Fuck it. 
He reaches for his phone on the coffee table, bright light immediately straining his eyes as he unlocks the device. 2:14am- not the worst it could be, thankfully; it means he’s only been stuck in his head for a little over an hour. Should he text you and see if you’ve fallen asleep yet, he wonders? No- better not to disturb you, and risk himself saying too much about what he feels due to lapse in judgment. 
The thought of telling anyone about how sad and lonely he is inside makes him physically ill- he dreads the feeling of vulnerability, hates the way his emotions catch in his throat and eyes fill with tears whenever he tries. He’s always regretted sharing in the past, not because of the fault of anyone he told, but purely due to his own inability to not feel shame and embarrassment when he lets someone in. 
His friends, brothers, found family, whatever you wanted to call them- very few of them saw Chan at his worst, but in an ideal world, none of them would’ve seen it. He can still remember the look on Minho’s face the first time he broke down in front of him, and it plagues him. He couldn’t control it- the tears just wouldn’t stop coming no matter how hard he tried to keep them in, choked, broken sobs leaving him uncontrollably as his body shook and trembled. 
Minho comforted him, of course- he wasn’t going to leave Chan to suffer alone after seeing him in such a state. But when the moment passed, there was no comfort or consolation within him to be felt- just the shame and embarrassment that twisted itself into a gnawing self-consciousness. And the thought of being in that state of self-doubt and hatred in front of you was even worse, because you were the absolute last person he wanted to see him that way. Maybe one day, but not now- not when your friendship was still relatively fresh and still being built upon. 
But.. even if he’s not ready to share his deepest thoughts and feelings, he still wants to talk to you now. He wants to see you smile at him, he wants to listen to you talk about what your plans are for when the winter semester is over and the weather starts to become warm again, he wants to see the twinkle in your eye when you talk about what your newest favorite song or meal is. Because as silly as it is, in the few months it’s been since he first became your friend, those are the things he’s come to enjoy most and look forward to. 
Are you still awake now? Are you staring up at his ceiling the way he is now in the living room? Is his bed comfortable enough for you? Did he leave you with enough blankets? He could text you so easily to find out, but for some reason the thought of it makes him extremely nervous. You’ve been to the house plenty of times now since becoming friends with not only him, but Felix, Hyunjin, and Changbin, but this is the first time you’re staying overnight. 
You initially came at the request to help Changbin, who is currently taking a class you took last semester but is struggling with the material and needed assistance to understand the concepts he was being introduced to. You brought your laptop with you, using it to show Changbin the detailed notes you took and offering him copies of the study guides you made, and it truly made Chan happy to see you helping his brother out so diligently. 
After a couple hours, Changbin let you off the hook, citing that his brain was tired from the overload of information and he’d be hitting the gym to let off some steam. “Oh my god, it’s this late already? I still have to work on my discussion post for this week,” you groaned, evidently dreading the work you’d have to put into making it decent enough for your professor’s obnoxiously high standards. 
“I can help you,” Chan offered without even thinking, and God, why did even do that? Because how was he, a high school dropout with no GED, realistically going to help someone as smart as you? He wasn’t dumb by any means, but what kind of input could he even offer that would benefit you? But despite the way his brain made fun of him for his lapse in judgment and convinced him that you’d absolutely refuse his help, you smiled at him.
“Yeah, okay! We should get some food too, I haven’t had dinner yet and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” you spoke cheerfully, opening up a new tab on your laptop to check over the delivery options in the area. He was stunned for a moment, feeling like his entire nervous system was zapped the moment you accepted his offer. There was no hesitation, no doubt in your mind that he could help despite what you know of his education history- why did that make him feel so warm inside? 
The corners of his mouth tugged in a smile as he helped you pick out a restaurant to order from, the two of you munching on burgers and fries as he listened to your thoughts on what your discussion post should be about. You bounced your ideas off him, and while he wasn’t knowledgeable on the subject you needed to write about, discussing it with him still seemed to help you. It was kind of like thinking aloud- like voicing what you thought worked and what didn’t, what you thought your professor would like to see and what he wouldn’t helped you to formulate a more cohesive outline in your mind.
Chan watched as you typed furiously, tongue slightly poked out and brows furrowed as you concentrated on the screen in front of you. You’d occasionally seek his input, asking things like “does this make sense?” or “do you think this is too much or not enough?” He was entirely out of his depth if he was being honest, but he was happy you wanted his input regardless, and enjoyed seeing a side of you he didn’t typically see. 
With Chan’s (albeit limited) help, you managed to finish before the midnight deadline, hitting submit on your post with just a few minutes to spare. You stood up and stretched your arms and legs, feeling stiff from all your time spent hunched at the same spot, a sigh of relief leaving you shortly after. But then there came the next dilemma- getting home this late into the night. Chan didn’t live far from campus, and thus was near the dorms as well, but the thought of you walking home in relative darkness by yourself didn’t sit well with him. 
“You could stay here if you want. You can take my bed, I’ll stay here,” he suggested. You blinked, staying silent as you processed the offer. Chan, who took the quiet as discomfort, was quick to speak up again and try to remedy it, “Or uh, I could walk you back if you’d prefer that-” “N-No!” you quickly blurted out, face reddening slightly as you clear your throat to speak more calmly, “I mean- I’ll stay.” 
Chan nods, standing up to go up to his room with you; you don’t need to be led there of course, you already know where it is, but Chan needs to at least grab a few things for himself before leaving it to you for the rest of the night. A pair of clothes to sleep in, a blanket, a pillow, his phone charger, and he’s all set. You watched him move about the room while sitting on his bed, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you did. 
“I’ll see you in the morning, uhm- let me know if you need anything, yeah? I’ll be on the couch, so.. Yeah, good night,” he says with a slight smile before he departs, doing his best to close the door behind him despite how full his hands were. Another sigh leaves his lips now, followed by another check of the time; it’s already 2:30am. Well, if he’s going to lose sleep no matter what, he’d rather lose it thinking about the fact that you’re upstairs in his bed right now than anything else.
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How on earth were you supposed to sleep?
You were in Chan’s bed, surrounded by the smell of his cologne, his stuffed toy wolf clutched closely to your chest because you always held something to fall asleep, but obviously didn’t have any of your own plushies here to do so. And God, your heart absolutely refuses to be still no matter how mundane of a situation you’re in. Who cares if you’re spending the night in the bed of the guy best friend that you’ve started to develop a crush on? It doesn’t matter!
You’re going insane, you think- you can’t take it. You’re stupid, delusional, thinking about if he was still here with you, what it’d be like if he were laying down next to you. Wrapping his arm around you, pulling you against his chest, speaking to you in a gravelly, tired voice and- PLEASE BRAIN STOP.
You pour all your mental effort into stopping yourself from thinking about it any further as embarrassment flushes over you. Isn’t this kind of.. Cringey..? Getting a crush on the first guy to ever be nice to you seems so.. Cliche? Pathetic? What is even wrong with you? But when you look at him, you can’t help it. 
He may look intimidating to others, but you’ve seen the truth of him since becoming his friend. Maybe it’s just puppy love that will fade with time, but you can’t help but admire him. And maybe that admiration is being fueled by the fact that he’s also incredibly handsome, but that’s besides the point. Underneath the aloof exterior, he’s sweet, caring, humble, generous.. How could you not like him? 
And you think about the first time you saw him smile- really smile, full and bright, teeth showing and eyes crinkled as a laugh escaped him. It was so beautiful, you felt like time slowed down around you. You learned that he had dimples that day; cute ones that made his smile endearing beyond explanation, and that you hoped you’d see again and again and again from that day forward. You loved the way he looked when he was happy, when his hard exterior melted away to reveal the soft features he hid underneath.
Every day spent with Chan was full of a joy you thought you’d lost the capability to feel. You found yourself endlessly enamored by him, and every thing you learned about him, every interaction you had with him, intensified the feeling that welled in your chest. He was so considerate of you, always watching out for you and making sure you were okay when you were out together. Like the time a few weeks ago when all of you were out together, celebrating Felix’s birthday.
You also met the other guys Chan considered his brothers that day; Jisung and Seungmin, who also had birthdays very close to Felix’s, Minho, who was close in age to Chan and equally as aloof in appearance, and Jeongin, the youngest of them all, though only by a small margin. It was fun to watch them all interact together over dinner, their dynamics quickly becoming apparent.
Changbin, who was typically loud to begin with, became even more so in the presence of Jisung, the pair becoming so explosively loud and chaotic that even the quieter ones like Chan and Minho would end up roped into whatever shouting was currently taking place. You’d laugh as you observed the chaos, and you enjoyed seeing a new side of Chan- one who let loose and had fun, who smiled freely and laughed just as much, who was beautiful beyond words. 
You learned a lot about them that day too- about how Minho moved to the opposite end of the city to go to vet school and how Jisung moved into a small apartment with him to make sure he was taking care of himself (and to help care for the cats the older had adopted shortly after.) Hyunjin, who you already knew was an avid painter, expressed his desire to own a studio some day, and Felix, your favorite barista and baker, talked about all the times he failed at a dessert and forced the others to eat them anyway so they wouldn’t go to waste. 
Seungmin was scouted to play baseball, and so moved pretty far away from the others now, but still loved to come back to the city and visit when he could, often with a camera in hand to capture moments he found beautiful. Jeongin was taking a gap year before going to school again, trying to make sure that he was sure about what he wanted to do with his life before committing himself to the hours of work and money spent. 
You were in awe of them, truly; they were all so different, yet came together and loved one another so genuinely, as real brothers would. And they all unanimously agreed that Chan was the one who held them together, the one who supported them through everything and helped them during the hardest times in their life. You loved how anytime someone praised him or had something positive to say about him, his ears would light up red with embarrassment as he turned his gaze away from them. 
You knew Chan was softie underneath, that was obvious to you from the day you met him, but it was still nice to have your opinion of him affirmed by others, to know that was the kind of person he always was. And he expressed that he didn’t see his actions as praiseworthy, always feeling awkward when it was brought up. To Chan, it was just human decency to help someone if he had the means to- a feeling that stemmed from the time he spent alone and in need of help when he was a child. 
He was well acquainted with that pain, knew how miserable it was, and he didn’t want anyone else to experience it. He couldn’t ignore someone who was clearly in need, so he always helped; even if he wasn’t in the best of circumstances himself, he would do whatever he could for them, no questions asked. And he never asked for anything in return, because to him, seeing the person back on track and happy again was reward enough. 
You knew every kind thing they said about Chan was no exaggeration, knew first hand that he truly was the kindest person you’d ever met. He put on a mask of toughness, sure, but there was no one in the world who was as generous and caring as him. You looked at him with pure adoration, which certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Hyunjin, who smiled to himself whenever he saw the way you’d blush or smile whenever Chan looked back your way. 
And when you were leaving the restaurant together, each saying your goodbyes as you readied yourselves to head in your separate directions, you saw him. It was pure coincidence- Jae was across the street, talking with some friends as he stood outside the bar smoking, completely unaware of the fact that you were even in the area. Chan looked at you, noticed the way you suddenly stopped in place and just stared across the street, and he followed your gaze to the culprit.
He stepped close to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his body. “It’s okay, he didn’t see you,” Chan comforts you, bringing his other hand to your face, directing you to look away from Jae and at him instead, “and even if he did, I’m right here. Just stick close to me, okay?” 
You nodded slowly, wondering if the thumb that rested on your cheek could feel the way heat rose to it. The others who were there, a group consisting of just the 3 who lived with Chan, just observed, not daring to step in until the moment was over. They all knew Jae well, and were also well aware of the things he’d done to you, at least on the surface level, and they promised that they’d look out for you too. 
You thanked them earnestly at the time, honestly unable to think of a single time you’d ever felt such solidarity, deeply appreciative of them, and Chan, who brought you all together. But now, as they all stood there watching, they felt it’d be best to leave it to Chan, who you quite obviously had feelings for. Hyunjin and Felix shared a knowing look, deciding to drag Changbin down the street with them before he’d have the opportunity to accidentally interrupt your moment. 
Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he squeezed your shoulder, leading you to walk away from the area with him. There was no romantic intent, you knew that- he was keeping you close to make sure you were okay, to ensure that you were within his reach should anything happen. Chan was a kind hearted person who did anything needed to protect others and there was nothing special about this interaction, you knew that. 
But regardless of all those rational thoughts you were repeating to yourself, you couldn’t stop the way it made your heart skip a beat, couldn’t help the way his care for you made your knees weak and face hot. Because even if he never liked you the way you liked him, he still cared about you, and that was enough for your growing crush on him to make your heart beat out of control. 
Was he still awake? Chan and the others told you before that he was an insomniac, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he was just as wide awake as you are. Should you go check? There was certainly no harm in it- if he did happen to be asleep, you’d just quietly slip back to his room and let him get some much needed rest, and try again to get some sleep. There was really no reason not to go. 
Carefully, you rise from the bed, wolf plush tucked safely in your arms and blanket wrapped around you, quietly opening the door and exiting out into the hallway. You’re careful not to make the stairs creak as you make your way down to the living room where Chan is supposed to be, and he immediately comes into view once you’re at the bottom. It’s obvious he’s awake, phone screen brightly illuminating the otherwise pitch black space.
He hears your footsteps as you step closer, lifting his head just enough to see who is approaching him this late at night. He looks surprised to see you for a moment, an emotion you can’t read in the relative darkness on his face for just a second before he’s sitting up and scooting to the side to make room for you on the couch next to him. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” he asks as you plop down in the spot he’s provided for you next to him, “Is my bed uncomfortable?” 
“Oh, no! Your bed was fine, it’s just..” I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it was driving me crazy “.. a lot on my mind, I guess.” He hums in acknowledgment, definitely feeling the same way; but he didn’t need to drag you down with all that. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offers, but you quickly shake your head, mortified at the thought of revealing your crush on him. That’s the last thing you should do. “Thanks, but no, I just want to take my mind off it.” 
He chuckles a little at your response, opting instead to change the subject, “I see you have Wolf Chan with you.” Wolf Chan? You look down at your arms, the cute wolf toy’s head peeking out from between your arms. “Oh, he has a name?” you ask and he nods, smiling ever so slightly as he speaks. “Yeah, kinda embarrassing but I had a huge wolf phase as a kid, so my mom and dad got me him for my birthday. Named him after myself cause, you know, kid brain thought it was cool.” 
“That’s cute! When is your birthday?” you ask, hoping that you’d have the chance to plan something nice for him as thanks for all he’s done for you in the time you’ve known him. “October 3rd,” he answers swiftly, and you frown. “...What? It already passed then? Why didn’t you tell me?” your frown transitions into a pout, sad at the realization that you all celebrated his brother's birthdays but not his. 
“I.. don’t really celebrate it. Wolf Chan- it was the last gift I got from my parents, the last birthday I had with them before.. Yeah. So I just.. Don’t acknowledge my birthday anymore, I guess?” Your heart sinks, not only because of how sad that is, but because you’re holding something clearly so important and personal to him without even having known it. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know- should I go put him back?” 
“Oh no, don’t worry. I like it actually,” he smiles softly, sincerely, “I haven’t touched him in a long time myself, so.. He needs the attention. I’m sure he was feeling neglected.” You smile back, relief washing over you instantly, thankful that you didn’t unintentionally make a drastic error. “Well I hope you know, I can’t let your birthday go ignored now that I know it.” “I expected that,” he replies, knowing full well you’d share that sentiment with his brothers, who still always wish him a happy birthday and get him a gift despite how often he expresses that they shouldn’t.
“Can I ask you something? It’s okay if you don’t want to answer,” you ask carefully, voice quiet and unsure, an underlying worry carried in your tone. Chan swallows, already anticipating what the question will be, the same question he’s answered countless times, but never gets any easier to talk about. “Do you think about them a lot?”
Oh. That wasn’t the question he was expecting; he’s used to being asked what happened, how he feels, if there’s anything he needs.. He anticipates pity, or a sympathy that while mostly appreciated, makes him feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Even with practice, there’s still times where he doesn’t know how to react, a hesitant, “I’m fine, thanks,” leaving him as he plots the quickest way out of the conversation. 
Safe to say, Chan isn’t good about talking about his feelings, or even feeling them to begin with for that matter. Apart from moments of weakness, when his facade cracks due to the mounting pressure and overload of emotions, he shares only what he deems necessary, never offering more than the minimum of what is needed. Even when it came to his brothers, who he trusts more than anyone else, it was hard for him to go beyond his practiced response, taking him a great amount of emotional effort to do so. 
“I do,” he answers after a moment, surprising himself with how easily he was able to do so. It was a simple question, sure, but not for Chan- nothing related to this topic is ever simple or easy for him. But somehow he feels.. Comfortable. And maybe that’s because it’s encroaching 3am and lack of sleep really takes a toll on one’s mental defenses, but he doesn’t think that’s all there is to it. 
He trusts you, as he does anyone he’s grown close to, but it takes more than trust alone to be able to open up. You could trust someone with your life and still struggle to express an emotion, still have the words you want to say die in your throat. Maybe it’s because of what else he feels when he’s around you- an unfamiliar emotion that encroaches on his chest whenever you’re in the room with him. 
The one that intensifies his desire to protect you from people like Jae, the one that leads to him wanting to talk to you at all hours about any and every thing that comes to your mind, the one that makes his heart pick up when you smile at him and always makes him return the smile despite himself. He wants to share with you, he realizes; share everything he can, from his happy moments to his sad ones, his thoughts, his feelings, his entire life even.
“Even just before you came downstairs, I was thinking of them,” he continues, his honesty unfamiliar to himself but not unwelcome; it’s not that he’d lie about anything he felt, but he was just.. Avoidant. He didn��t want to talk about it, refused to even, most times. But you- you make him want to be honest, not just with you, but with himself. Maybe it’s because of the feelings for you that have begun to accumulate in his heart, or maybe because he knows how similar you are.
The circumstances were different, but the feelings were the same; isolation, sadness, hopelessness. No one to turn to, no one to rely on, fighting all by yourself, with only your own ability to pick yourself back up to carry you forward. Chan knew first hand how painful that existence is, how much it hurts to have nothing, no one. He’s also come to learn, time and time again, that even when you’ve found your place in the world, the void lingers.
The hole in his chest never closes- even if he can stop it’s growth, it never shrinks, never collapses or recedes. There’s reasons for that, he knows; it’s his own fault for not allowing himself to feel, to share, his hesitancy to allow anyone past arm’s length or to chip at his walls. He doesn’t want that with you- if he wants something with you beyond this, beyond the boundaries of simple friendship, he needs to do more, feel more, share more. It was something he thought he would be terrified to do, an irrational fear that your opinion of him would change if he wasn't as strong as he appeared to be; but now that he's met with the opportunity, instead of fear, he feels.. safe? 
“I lost them really young, you know; I was just a kid with a lot of grief he didn’t know how to handle, and the people who took me in didn’t care. ‘Suck it up,’ ‘get over it,’ ‘stop being a baby and grow up,’ shit like that. Didn’t matter that I was only 7 and lost everything, I should just be grateful they gave me a place to sleep and eat. Got emancipated at 16 to get away from them, dropped out of school cause I couldn’t balance it with how much I had to work, and I wasn’t gonna miss it anyways. And here I am now,” Chan is hesitant to meet your gaze when he finishes talking, worried about what feeling it might conjure in him when he sees your eyes laden with sympathy. 
You move across the couch and wrap your arms around him in a hug, an action he didn’t expect and takes him entirely by surprise. “That must’ve been so hard..” you say softly, care and concern for him evident in the way you speak to him. He blinks, a lump forming in his throat that normally he’d try to ignore, to push away and act as if he’s fine, but this time he doesn’t. He’s choked up, he’s emotional, and for once, that’s okay. 
Carefully, he wraps his arms around you as well, his head resting atop yours as he lets out a shaky exhale. “Can we stay like this for a while?” he asks quietly, his fingers clutching at your shirt, as if afraid you’ll leave him the moment he lets go. “Of course,” you assure him, moving just enough to make yourself more comfortable and settle in against him, “as long as you need.” He mumbles a ‘thank you’, to which you hum in response, following his lead as he lays back and settles with you in his arms. 
You stay like that for a long time- long enough for your breathing to slow, eyes closed and arms beginning to fall from the hug as you drift off. Your head has sank to his chest, his heartbeat, that started fast and erratic, has slowed to a comforting, steady rhythm that lulled you to sleep. Chan is careful to pull the blanket up to your shoulders, ensuring that you at least are covered and will stay plenty warm until you wake up. 
He closes his eyes, keeping his arms wrapped around you under the blanket, wanting to keep you close and not let go. He doesn’t know if he’ll always have this with you; this close comfort, this feeling of peace and calm, of having you in his arms and being able to be held by you, while holding you in return. He likes it, wants it engraved in his memory in case it never happens again, to always remember the way you felt, the way you cared, the safety he felt with you. A small, but cherished moment, special and important to him beyond words.
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Was it okay to be this happy? It’s something Chan thought about lately, whenever he had finished spending a day with you, laying in his bed and playing them over in his mind, making sure every little detail was memorized. The way you smiled, the way you laughed, the feel of your soft skin when he touched your hand or you hugged him tight, the way your perfume lingered in the room long after you’d left it. 
Did he deserve it? He certainly didn’t feel like he did, but he welcomed it all the same, too selfish to let go of the small piece of joy he’d obtained. His feelings for you had grown considerably, and he was sure it was obvious to his brothers, who never failed to notice the way he'd change when he was around you; they just knew him too well and were around him too much to not notice something different about his behavior. 
He liked you a lot, and there was certainly no way he’d be able to deny it if they asked about it. They didn’t overtly ask about it though of course, more often opting to make subtle nods to their knowledge of it or make suggestions like ‘wouldn’t it be fun if Y/N came too? You should invite her!’ when they had plans together. Sometimes they even lightly poked some fun, one instance that sticks in Chan's mind being when Hyunjin wanted to show him what he called an “adorable picture.” 
It was of you and Chan, asleep on the couch together that first time you stayed the night; your head on his chest, his arm loosely wrapped around you, blanket having fallen from your shoulders just enough to make Chan’s hand on your back come into view. His face flushed when he saw it, ears burning as they turned red. Hyunjin was right, it was an adorable picture, and Chan was embarrassed beyond belief to see the moment captured. 
Hyunjin giggled in a mischievous sort of delight upon seeing the older’s reaction, evidently very pleased with the result he obtained. His typical response in a situation where his feelings are exposed like this would be to play it cool and act like it’s not a big deal, which truthfully, he didn’t want to do. Why should he pretend he doesn’t like you as much as he does? Especially after he’s decided he’ll do his best to be honest with himself, and by extension, the others in his life (you especially.) 
Even if it’s embarrassing, or uncomfortable because he’s not used to his emotions being obvious and out on display, it’s what he wants, needs even. He needs to let them out if he’s going to be a better man than he was the day before, to be deserving of you when the time is right. So instead, he does what would normally be the unthinkable- he owns it. No denial, no avoidance, no playing it off as less severe or important than it really is to him. 
“Can you.. Send it to me? I- I want to keep it,” Chan asked, easily the most shy and embarrassed to ask a question he had ever been in his entire life. Hyunjin blinked, initially surprised, but then immediately smiled. “Of course Channie-hyung! You should send it to Y/N too, I’m sure she’d like it,” he said as he eagerly opened his message tab, clicking Chan’s name to send the photo he took. 
“You could send it to her,” Chan responded before the words following fully sank in, “You think she’d want it too?” “Why wouldn’t she? You’re friends, aren’t you? And it’s a cute memory,” Hyunjin said, doing his best to convey why he thinks you’d want it without revealing that you absolutely have as bad of a crush on Chan as he does on you. (And it’s not like you explicitly told him either; it’s just that you’re as obvious about it and easy to read as Chan is.) 
“Right, yeah, of course.” Was it silly to hope that Hyunjin would say something like ‘obviously because she likes you!’ …Yeah. Definitely. But when he looked at the picture, it gave him hope that maybe you felt the same way; and if you didn’t, that maybe you would in the future, after he gave his earnest effort to be someone good. 
His next bit of hope came during a get together for Hyunjin’s birthday. The weather had just begun to turn warm, the days slowly getting longer and longer and allowing for more frequent outings. Thus, by Hyunjin’s own request, you went to have some fun downtown, hitting up local art scenes and scouting out opportunities for the birthday boy to get some fresh, new supplies. It turned out to be a long day, with Hyunjin’s interest piqued towards various different places and sights, and as night rolled in most of the group had empty stomachs and aching legs. 
You all settled for having dinner at the house, picking up takeout and a birthday cake on the way back. You seemed different after eating dinner, Chan noticed, sitting on the couch away from the group in the kitchen, who were crowding around the birthday cake waiting for a slice. You were watching them with an almost somber expression, and Chan could’ve sworn your eyes were fixated on him in particular. 
Had he done something to upset you? There was nothing he could recall, but he wasn’t exactly well versed or experienced with understanding or handling the complexities of feelings. He could easily imagine a world in which he unintentionally said or did something wrong, but he hoped that maybe you were just tired, and Chan only thought you were looking at him in sadly, when in reality, exhaustion was just catching up to you. 
In reality, you were staring at Chan, but not for the reason he feared; he hadn’t done a single thing to upset you- quite the contrary, actually. He was good- not just to you, but to everyone. You watched the way he’d shoulder everything, how he’d support endlessly and rarely accept anything back, always so selfless and caring, withstanding anything thrown his way with generous consideration. 
You learned a lot about Chan in your time with him; about his youth, what his family dynamic used to be like, how even before he dropped out he had a bad reputation at his school for appearing stand-offish and cold. That reputation followed him for a majority of his life after leaving as well, with most people who knew him having a great dislike for him due to their perceived vision of him and the half-truths (or outright lies) they believed in. It was only people like you and his brothers, who took the time to know him beyond the superficial front, that knew what a great person he truly was. 
And truthfully, it angered you; why were people so quick to judge someone they didn’t know? Sure, that impression helped sometimes, like with Jae who obviously wanted nothing to do with him, but he was the exact opposite of what people made him out to be. He wasn’t violent or cruel, nor was he scary or someone to be avoided at all costs. He was just a boy, now a man, who had suffered far too much pain and cruelty for someone his age, who was just doing his best to navigate the world with the limited resources he had. What was so wrong with that? 
But despite all the misconceptions of others, the burdens he carried, or the responsibilities he had, you never once heard him complain about any of it, or show any sign of annoyance. Because despite what people might think about him, the people close to him knew who he truly was- someone who lived his life with compassion and kindness, who was misunderstood but not ill-intentioned, always trying his best despite the difficulties that came his way. 
Sometimes you would wonder, though- is he really okay? Chan had dealt with so much, enough to easily break down even the most resolute of people. And as much as he shared, there was equally as much that you didn’t know; about what he felt, if he ever received as much as he gave, if he was truly happy. You did your best to ensure he was, that you always returned whatever favor he gave you, by being a reassuring presence for him as much as he was for you, but it was hard to know if that was enough. 
You wanted to ask, but you didn’t know how best to broach the subject, or if he’d even be willing to talk about it if you did. He had opened up to you before, during late night chats or if something he saw reminded him of a memory he held, but the moments themselves were quite fleeting, and you worried about him. You always worried about him, no matter where you were or what you were doing, because simply put, you loved him. 
You weren’t in love with him (you definitely were), but he was an undeniably important person in your life, who you had a lot of love and care for. He was your friend, and you wanted the best for him. You’d never force him to share with you or tell you anything he didn’t want to of course, but you hoped he knew that he could if he wanted to, that he never had to be scared or uncertain when it came to opening up to you, and that you would always listen and be there for him. 
Chan approached you carefully, working up his courage to talk to you and see if you were okay, and to know if there was an apology he owed you for some unknown grievance. “Are you okay? What’s got you so deep in thought tonight?” he’d asked, trying his best to not show how nervous he felt; you’d stopped looking at him, but he could tell even from afar that you were focused on something. “Oh, I..” You hesitated a moment, wondering how you should best phrase what your honest thoughts were. 
You took a quick glance towards the kitchen where everyone else was, noting that everyone still seemed to be involved in their own conversations and antics, not paying any mind to the two of you. That made it a little easier; you think you’d die of embarrassment if they heard what you planned to say next. 
“I was thinking about you actually,” you said quietly after turning your gaze back to Chan. What surprised him wasn’t just how openly you admitted it, but how you didn’t seem the least bit angry or upset with him like he was worried you were. So.. what about him had you so deep in thought, then? “What about me..?” he asked hesitantly, hoping for the best but still slightly scared he was reading you completely wrong. 
You swallowed before continuing, worried that you were somehow going to offend him by bringing up what you were thinking. While you felt like you knew Chan fairly well at this point, people can still become defensive or agitated when asked about something personal, and that’s the last thing you wanted him to feel. But he’s looking at you expectantly, eyes fixed solely on you as he waited to hear what you had to say, so there was no getting out of it now. “I was wondering if you are okay lately. Like.. really okay, and not just saying you are so we don’t worry about you.” 
Oh. He was completely stunned by your words, unexpectedly taken aback. No one had ever said that to him before, and he didn’t know how to respond to such earnest concern for him. Obviously, he had been asked if he was okay plenty of times in his life, but never in a way such as this, that insinuated there was a lot more hiding below the surface. And there was. Deep buried feelings gnawed at him, begging to be acknowledged, but he always pushed them down further, reasoning that now wasn’t the time and he’d confront them later, when the time was right. 
But when was the right time? It never came, no time ever feeling like the right one, or maybe Chan just spent so much time avoiding his feelings that now he didn’t know how to confront them. He was so used to sharing so little, that even his earnest efforts were still small in comparison to what most others were able to do, he was sure. But how did you realize that about him? Was it just coincidence, or were you already so acclimated to him that you could recognize the way his brain worked? 
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” you said after his prolonged pause, worried that you did in fact make him uncomfortable as you feared. “I- No, I was just surprised,” he finally responded, turning to look in the direction of his friends just as you had done a moment prior. They were all joking around, laughing loudly as they made the birthday boy wear a stupid party hat they picked up and putting frosting on his face, leaving Chan in his own little bubble with you. 
He turned his gaze back to you, wanting to say something, anything, but finding it difficult to speak, as usual. His words were trapped in his throat, refusing to come to the surface no matter how much effort he poured into trying. You took notice of his hesitancy, and decided to speak again in the hopes of giving him some comfort. “I just.. You’ve done a lot for me since I met you, more than anyone ever has, so… I want to be there for you too. If you need it, I mean, because I really, really care about you..” Your face heats up a bit when you’re finished speaking, feeling nervous from the admission. 
This must feel so out of the blue from Chan’s perspective, and that thought made you feel silly for bringing it up in the middle of a birthday party in the first place. And on top of that, you’d openly said how much you care about him, which is embarrassing all on its own. Even if it’s not a love confession by any means, it feels similar enough that it makes your heart pound like crazy. 
Chan’s face grew hot, positively burning, heart rate picking up drastically. He hopes you don’t notice the obvious red creeping on his features, or hear how fast his heart is beating against his chest. It wasn’t just the fact that he hadn’t expected this moment to happen that made him react this way, but the way you expressed your concern for him. You wanted to support him, you wanted to make sure he was okay, you were thinking about him. Normal things, sure, but when coming from someone you have undeniable feelings for, it’s enough to make your blood pressure skyrocket. 
He swallowed, preparing himself to make another attempt at speaking. “Thank you, Y/N, I really appreciate that,” he said, offering a timid smile your way to ease your growing anxiety as he continued, “It might be hard for me, but.. But I’ll try, at the very least.. To tell you if I’m not okay, I mean.” You returned his smile earnestly, evidently pleased with his response. You couldn’t ask him to open up easily or suddenly share all his close-held concerns and deeply buried thoughts, but the fact that he’d try and was open to it was what’s important. If he could trust you the way you had grown to trust him, that’d be more than enough for you to be happy.
From a distance, Felix had taken notice of the way you and Chan hadn’t joined in on the chaos of chasing Hyunjin around the kitchen to cover him with icing, and paused to look in your direction. The others stopped too when they noticed his pause, following his gaze to be met with the same sight of Chan’s burning face and the beaming smile you held towards him. They had hope, as much as Chan did, that there would come a day where the two of you would become a couple. 
Was it okay to be this happy? Was it okay for Chan to hope that you returned his feelings? Was it okay to plan his confession, to wonder how his life would look if you said yes, to picture himself kissing you and holding you close at all hours of the day? There were still things he had to do first, things to get out of and people to get away from, but you were his driving force to do that, the motivation to turn his life into something better, the hope he needed to get through it all. 
Even if he didn’t deserve it, you made it worth trying. His life, which was plagued with bad memories and remorse for actions taken, became brighter and more livable when you were there to share it with him. Maybe it was okay to have someone to lean on, someone to confide in and share his burden with, someone to ground him and remind him that happiness is possible for him, and that it doesn’t always have to be a fleeting hope or dream. 
That’s what you were for him- hope in human form, a dream come true. Everything he wanted, everything he needed, beautiful and perfect in every way. And if you accepted his feelings, he’d never stop showing his appreciation to you, he’d shower you with all the love you could handle and then some, making sure you always knew just how much you meant to him.
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There were many things in this life that left Park Jaehyung feeling resentful; the way adults expected absolute obedience from him, the way he was expected to be an exemplary student with no flaws, and the way society projected their version of ‘success’ onto him. He wanted to do what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it, with no one to tell him what is or isn’t proper. All he wanted in life was to have fun and live by his own terms, consequences be damned. If he wanted to smoke, he’d do it. If he wanted to party, he’d do it. And if he wanted to get with a girl, even one who absolutely loathed his existence, he’d do it. So, what by far angered him more than anything else was the way Bang Chan had thrown himself into your life. 
Jae would say that he knew Chan and his crew fairly well, often finding themselves within the same spaces. And from an outside perspective, comparisons definitely could be made between the groups; after all, how different from each other could some ex-school delinquents be from a shady drop out that no one gave a shit about and his friends that followed him around like lost puppies?
They’d often find themselves rooted in the same places, attending the same parties, pissing off or scaring the same people; but that was the extent of any similarity between them. Contrary to what an outsider may believe, Jae absolutely hated Chan and his group of stupid ass friends. And anyone who would look at them and come to the conclusion that they were friends were blatant fucking morons. 
From Jae’s perspective, Chan was pretentious and irritating; he always had a holier than thou attitude, looking down on Jae and his friends as if he was any better. Who was Chan to preach about morals and principles? Who gives a fuck about any of that bullshit? Jae certainly didn’t, and he was tired of being told he was ‘in the wrong.’ If Chan wanted to spend his whole life worrying about whether or not what he was doing was right or wrong, he could, but Jae wasn’t going to listen to it. Besides, it was pretty fucking ironic to get lectured by a “professional” fixer of all people. He really should drop the “I’m better than you” act.
But for the most part, Jae could live his everyday life without interacting with Chan or seeing any of his loyal idiots. The occasional glare on the street or punch thrown at a party was the extent of their relationship, if you could even call it that. As long as both sides minded their own business, there wasn’t much conflict to be had. Sure, Jaehyung would love to instigate a problem given how much he disliked them, but he wasn’t stupid enough to start a fight he wouldn’t assuredly win. Some might accuse him of cowardice, but he would argue that it was just being smart. There was nothing to be gained from a losing battle; it was better to bide his time, and wait for the right moment. And there was a critical piece missing in the “right moment” that he still needed; you. 
For as long as he could remember, Jae found school pointless. It was repetitive, boring, and everyone around him was exceedingly fake. They all wore such obvious masks, trying (and failing, in Jae’s opinion) to appear without fault. No one was perfect and he found it pitiful to even try and pretend they were. No matter who you are or what you do, something will be flawed. There will always be something wrong with you, always something there for someone to criticize. So what was the point of it all? By the time he entered high school he was used to this monotony and the ignorance of his peers. 
And that’s when he saw you for the first time; shy, vulnerable, unmasked you. You weren’t trying to project anything to anyone that wasn’t authentically you, though at first he couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not. Whether you simply had no reason to, you were comfortable not to, or maybe didn’t even realize how different you were amongst the people he’d grown to hate; whatever the reason, he was intrigued by your ‘realness’ in a sea of two faced, judgemental people. You were smart but not boastful, kind but not pretentious, beautiful but seemingly modest; and he liked it. 
At first, his fixation with you started with simple curiosity driven observation. You were always at the top of the class but never once looked down on anyone below you. And while he personally found studying incredibly tedious and pointless, he did oddly admire how much you devoted yourself to it. You weren’t born smart, at least he assumed so from how often he witnessed you studying, rather you reached your heights through effort and determination. And instead of finding it a worthless effort like he would if it were someone else, he found himself meeting a strange feeling he couldn't name. 
He wasn’t sure why, but watching you give your earnest effort to your studies didn’t piss him off like it did with everyone else. Normally he’d tell someone like you that they were wasting their time- studying was stupid, school was stupid, and anyone who cared about it was stupid as well. So why didn’t he have that same sentiment towards you? Why did he want to encourage you? 
Why did he want to always look at you? What was it about you that infatuated him so much? He could have any girl he wanted, ones who lined up with his view of the world and he could woo as easily as he could tie his shoe, but instead he always found his gaze landing on you. To like someone like you went against everything he ever told himself, but maybe that was okay. Maybe you could change his perspective, make him the kind of person that could care about shit like this.  
That’s why he approached you that day. He didn’t tell any of his friends what he was feeling or about his intentions to get to know you- it was something he wanted to do for himself. He didn’t want to look at you from afar anymore, he wanted to be next to you. He wanted to talk to you, get to know you, find out what makes you the person you are. 
And then his friend fucking ruined it. Maybe it was Jae’s own fault for always putting himself in the leader position, for being the kind of person who can’t let someone else take charge, because that meant he had people waiting on him. In hindsight, it was obvious someone would notice his absence from the group and come seek him out, but it still pissed him off. And what pissed him off even more was the words his friend spoke. 
“I knew it! You do like her!”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now what was he supposed to do? His friend’s smug fucking grin was infuriating. Who was he to look at Jae like that? He couldn’t admit he genuinely liked you or say he wanted to get to know you, he had a reputation to maintain. So, he did the opposite of what he truly wanted to do; he treated you the same way he treated the girls he had flings with, acting like you were some lovesick puppy who couldn’t handle that he didn’t like you the way you liked him. 
You were going to hate him after that, he knew it; and maybe he was stupid for even thinking he could have genuine friendship with someone like you given the kind of guy he was. And why should he want that? He doesn’t do shit like that, he never has, and the fact that you even managed to get into his head and make him doubt the way he’s lived so far pissed him off. You were just a girl, at the end of the day. 
And so his complicated, unresolved feelings of frustration and hatred were endlessly unleashed upon you, the undeserving outlet for his confusion and stubborn desire to never change his ways for anyone. He’d live his life the way he wanted, regardless of what anyone had to say about it, and like-minded people could come along for the ride as long as they recognized him as the one on top of it all. 
And you, the one he liked for a fleeting moment before it all came down on him; he wouldn’t let you go. Because whether you liked him or hated him, you wouldn’t be able to ignore him. As long as you felt something for him, even if that feeling was hate, fear, or dread, it was a feeling for him, and he’d take anything from you he could, because that was the best he was ever gonna get. 
When he saw you at that party, it felt like fate. God didn’t do favors for men like him, but maybe he could start to believe in shit like that if he kept getting blessed like this. When graduation day came, he was sure he’d never see you again. You were moving to god-knows-where, while he’d stay stuck in this shitty city with his shitty friends, doing the same shit he always does. 
Well, his time with you couldn’t last forever; this was the inevitable conclusion, after all. He’d just crash wherever he felt like it, work when he felt like it, and maybe get a girl on his arm to take your place when he felt like it. But then he saw you, at this random ass party he went to by chance, purely cause his friends were going and booze was promised. 
You hadn’t moved all that far, it turned out. You were still within his reach, and he had you now. Oh, and the look you gave him when your eyes met; he knew he missed it but damn, did it light a fire in him. He had you again, he had you, and then Chan fucking ruined it, like he ruins everything he comes in contact with. 
It was okay, he thought. There would be more chances, and Jae could be assured of the fact that no one fucking likes Chan, and you wouldn’t either. Now that he knew you weren’t all too far from where you grew up, he could find you again, and relive his glory days before they ever even faded. But every fucking time he saw you again, Chan was there, ruining it. 
Fuck, it infuriated him. And the way you looked at him? What the fuck was that? The way you smiled at him made him absolutely sick; Jae never knew you could smile like that, and why would he? He never did anything to warrant something like that, but if he didn’t get to have it, then why did Chan? Chan didn’t deserve shit, and especially not you. 
You smiled at him like he was the world, stared at him with twinkling eyes and a flushed face, let him wrap his arm around you and hold your hand with the most shy delight Jae had ever seen. And it all went to Chan? All your pretty looks and radiant smiles were for him? No, he couldn’t take that. If there was one thing Jae was going to do, it was going to be making sure he ruined it for Chan, the way that Chan ruined everything for him. 
And finally, his patience was rewarded, because he sees you walking alone in a shopping plaza not all too far away from where you go to school. It’s a popular spot for the local college students, carrying everything they need to get through their daily lives, as well as a few luxuries. It’s not all that busy at this time of day however; it’s still fairly early on a Friday evening, and if Jae had to guess, that’s precisely why you’re here now, instead of an hour or two later when there will be a rush of students all looking to do some shopping or have a bit of weekend fun. 
He wasn’t here for you, having come instead to look for a hook-up, but he’s not going to ignore a perfectly good opportunity when it’s presented to him. He wastes no time in approaching, smiling has he does, eager to put a plan in motion to bring everything Chan wants crashing down on his fucking head. You freeze when he calls your name, heart sinking as you register the voice you’re hearing. 
You know it all too well, never able to forget it. Despite your better judgment screaming at you to just keep walking, you turn in the direction you heard the voice to see Jaehyung standing against one of the plaza’s many support beams. What was he doing here? You want to believe he didn't come out looking for you purposely, but you wouldn't put it past him; he's certainly capable of it. “Long time no chat, huh? Have you missed me?” he asked with the signature condescending tone you were once so familiar with. 
“What do you want?” You ask sternly, deciding you absolutely will not entertain any of his mocking. “Wow, so hostile already,” Jae fakes a disappointed sigh as he crosses his arms, “That’s pretty brave of you given your guard dog is nowhere in sight.” You glare at him as you stick your hands in your pockets, wanting to have your phone at the ready in case he tries something with you. “If you touch me you’ll regret it. Chan will know it was you,” you say, trying to sound braver than you feel. You had no doubt that Chan would kick his ass if Jae did anything to you tonight, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try anyways if he really wanted to. 
“Yeah, you’re right, which is why I’m not gonna do any of that shit. I just wanna talk to you," Jaehyung says, and your brow immediately raises in suspicion. He just wants to talk to you? Yeah fucking right. “Talk about what? There’s nothing I want to hear from you,” you counter, and he chuckles, fully expecting a reaction like that. 
“Just hear me out. How well do you know Chan? Like really know him?” he counters back. “..Why?” you ask with a frown. You wanted to say you knew Chan well, but the truth is that there’s still a lot about him you don’t have insight on. Despite that, you’re sure that anything Jae has to say about him isn’t going to be the truth, and you certainly won’t let anything from Jae’s mouth change how you feel about someone, especially not Chan. 
“Mm, I see,” Jae responds, seemingly amused at the way you refuse to offer anything up. “How about this then, do you know what he does for a living?” You narrow your eyes at his question. What is he getting at by asking you something like that? “He works at a convenience store,” you respond flatly, not wanting to give away anything you feel from his pestering. “Oh, does he? Are you sure about that?” he responds with a sarcastic smile that leaves you feeling uneasy. “What are you insinuating?” 
“Do you really think that the money he makes at a convenience store earns him enough money to pay for that big ass house he lives in? All the food they eat, their bills, school expenses, everything? Even with some extra help and a hell of a lot of overtime, that’s a bit unrealistic, don’t you think?” he once again counters your question with one of his own, clearly trying to plant seeds of doubt about Chan within you. “Come on, you’re smarter than that, why don’t you think about it harder?"
You glare at him again, refusing to listen any further or reach whatever conclusion he is attempting to bring you to. “Whatever you’re trying to say about Chan, I don’t care. Tell it to someone else.” You start to turn to walk away, feeling fed up with his game at this point, but he quickly grabs your arm to stop you. 
“Let go,” you protest as you try to tug your arm away, but he tightens his grip. “Just listen,” he says as he keeps a firm hold on you, “Chan isn’t as good as you think he is.” You scoff at his words. As if someone like him was any better? You’d take Chan over him any day, no matter what it is you don’t know about him. “You’re going to lecture me on good people? After all you’ve done to me? Whatever Chan may or may not be involved in, I’d take my chances with him rather than spend even another second around you.” 
Jae’s face contorts in anger at your words, and he roughly throws your arm back at you. “Fine, go fuck your piece of shit criminal boyfriend and see where it gets you!” 
…What?
Jae sees the shock and confusion clearly on your face, and his usual smug smile replaces the scowl he held just a moment ago. “What, you didn’t know? He does some real bad shit in his free time, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets arrested one of these days,” he returns to his mocking tone, clearly trying to get even more of a reaction out of you. 
“I don’t believe you,” you respond and he laughs, as if he expected to hear that. “Of course you don’t. But I can prove it to you.” “Prove it how?” you question despite your better judgment. You know you shouldn’t indulge Jae by leaning into whatever he was trying to make you think, but if there was some semblance of truth in his statement.. What would that mean for Chan? What would it mean for you?
“Meet up with me later, you’ll see then,” he says plainly and you frown in response. “I trust you even less than I believe you,” you say as you cross your arms and Jae laughs again; you certainly have gotten more of a spine since the last time he saw you. “If I did anything to you, Chan and his friends would find out about it, so I really have nothing to gain from tricking you unless I have a death wish.” 
You narrow your eyes, contemplating the situation before making any definite decision. You supposed what he was saying is true at least; anything he tried would get back to the guys and they’d go after him with no hesitation. But even so, you were still hesitant to go along with this. You really didn’t want to give him any satisfaction by buying into whatever he was trying to tell you, but now there was a gnawing feeling in the back of your head telling you that if it was true, and Chan is a criminal, you needed to know. 
“..Fine, but don’t expect me to go anywhere private with you,” you finally say, a knot building in your stomach as you commit to seeing what Jae thinks is so terrible about Chan. “Fine with me, princess, just show up where I tell you to and you’ll see everything you need to,” he smirks at you and your stomach churns, both from the smug look on his face and the nauseating nickname.
“I’ll reach out, so don’t chicken out, ‘kay? I expect to see you,” he grins before he turns away, leaving you to resume your evening. As he gets further away, guilt and uncertainty begins to creep up on you. What if this is something you and Chan can never come back from? What if you can never trust each other again? Is it worth potentially losing someone so special to you? You hope beyond words that this isn’t a decision you’ll come to regret.
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It takes Jae a week to reach out to you again, doing so on social media cause there was absolutely no way in hell you’d ever give him your phone number. You also didn’t see Chan much that week, the guilt and worry eating away at you every time you looked at him, knowing that at some point, Jae was supposedly going to present you with evidence of Chan being a bad person. You still don’t believe that he is, but you need to put this to rest yourself, and not give room for any doubts about Chan to live in your head. 
The address Jae sends you is indeed a public one, a relatively large park just outside of the city that you imagine is popular with the families that live close to it. At the time you’re going though, there definitely won’t be any families there. You have reservations about meeting up with Jae at night, even if it’s at a public place, but he insists that night is the only time that’ll work because “people don’t do shady shit during the day” apparently. 
Begrudgingly, you go to the park well before the appointed hour, passing the time on a bench until Jae shows up, having your phone at the ready just in case this is all some sort of elaborate plot to get you where he wants you. He grins when he sees you, shooting you a wave that you don’t reciprocate. “Nice to see you,” he says with a smirk as he walks up to you. 
“Can’t say the same about you,” you respond flatly, “let’s just get this over with.” “Gladly,” he responds, motioning for you to stand up. You do, hesitantly, and he walks over to a small hill at the edge of the park, walking up it and expecting you to follow. “What are we doing?” you ask, cautiously taking steps to reach the top. “Look there,” Jae points across the street, where street lights illuminate a rather empty street, with a small alley just within your line of sight. 
“Just wait, this won’t take long,” he says, holding his characteristically smug smile as he leans his weight against a tree. You frown as you turn your attention back to the street, looking around for anything you’re supposed to be noticing but aren’t, but you don’t notice anything in particular of importance. On top of that, your mind is at war with itself, one part scolding you for really following along with this, while the other demands you see it through so you can put any doubts about Chan’s character to rest.
“There we go,” Jae says enthusiastically as two figures appear on the street walking next to each other, one man that you don’t recognize and one that you definitely do- Chan. “What is this?” you ask, not sure what’s so critically important about watching Chan walk the street with some guy you don’t know. “You’ll see, just don’t take your eyes off him,” Jae responds, pointing forward and urging you to not look away for even a moment. 
The pair step into the alley, and while there’s no light to illuminate them fully when they’re off the main street, you can still see them well enough. They’re talking, you think, calmly at first, but then it becomes more animated, with the stranger becoming increasingly more expressive with his arms and hands. He’s.. panicked? He takes a step back, trying to put distance between himself and Chan, but then it happens- a punch thrown, by none other than Chan himself. 
He hits the man hard, and he crumples to the ground instantly, arms coming up to protect his head after he’s hit the floor. That should be it, you think, but no, it continues, with Chan throwing punch after punch, unrelenting. You can hear the main cry out in pain now, his voice carrying easily to you in the otherwise silent area. You don’t understand- what is Chan doing? You’ve never seen him like this, but surely there’s a reason, right? 
Chan reaches into the man's pockets now, fishing for something, and he finds it soon enough- his wallet. You watch in disbelief as Chan takes the money and shoves it in his own pocket, throwing the wallet back at the man as if it’s worthless now. When he emerges from the alley, it’s even worse- you can see the blood on his knuckles, can see how it drips down to the ground, evidence that there was no mistake in what you saw. 
“Chan!” Jae calls out enthusiastically, rushing down the hill to make his way to him, “Thanks for the show!” Chan looks visibly surprised to see Jae running up to him, but then sighs, rolling his eyes as Jae approaches him. You move down the hill hesitantly, not sure if Chan has noticed you’re here too, but hoping for some kind of explanation. “Why were you watching?” You can hear Chan question as you start to get to the bottom of the hill. 
“What, can’t a guy watch? It’s entertaining seeing a shitty guy get what's comin’ to him,” Jae answers and Chan scoffs before he holds his hand out to Jae, clearly waiting to be given something. “Ironic coming from you. But whatever, I did what you asked, so just pay me so we can get out of here.” “Yeah, yeah, good doin’ business with you and shit,” Jae smiles as he reaches into his pocket, putting a large stack of bills into Chan’s hand. 
Jae looks back at you then, who is still standing across the street at the bottom of the park’s hill, confusion and disbelief threatening to rip your brain apart as it tries to make sense of everything. “There you go princess, all the proof you need,” he says with a smirk; he accomplished exactly what he was hoping to- anything you had with Chan is ruined.
Chan is clearly confused, and follows Jae’s gaze straight to you, who he realizes just witnessed the entire exchange. His face changes in an instant when his eyes meet yours, blood draining from his face and eyes going wide. Jae says something to him then, but he says it so low that you can’t hear it, and Chan’s gaze remains fixed on you, as if Jae isn’t even there anymore. “Well, I’ll leave you two to sort this out. And don’t worry about the guy in the alley, he’s a good friend of mine so I’ll get him home,” he says in a smug tone, clearly happy with the situation he’s created. 
“Fuck you Jae,” you bite as you shove past him, rushing up to Chan who has begun to hurriedly step away from the scene. You hear Jae laugh behind you, but you ignore it, fixed on your goal. You need to talk to Chan. “Chan, please wait!” you call to him, doing your best to keep up with him despite how much faster he is than you. You know what happened just now is wrong, that whatever is going on with him is bad, but you need to hear him tell you why he’s doing it, you need to know what’s going through his head. 
“Chan-” you’re about to plead again but he stops, allowing you to catch up with him. He slowly turns to you, hesitant to meet your gaze even as you look up at him. Fuck, he felt so stupid. How could he believe you'd never find out about his secret life? How could he believe that one day you'd be with him happily? He was so incredibly naive, and he hated it, hated how he had tricked himself into believing he could have normalcy and happiness with someone else. Who was he kidding? There was no way he'd ever be allowed to live a life like that. 
“..I need to call Changbin, and then I’ll take you home,” he says lowly as he takes his phone out of his pocket, and you watch as he puts some distance between you, not trying to get away from you but just far enough to have as private of a conversation with Changbin as he can. “Hey hyung, what’s up?” Changbin’s voice comes through on the other end, but can tell immediately something is wrong when all he hears is a shaky exhale as Chan tries to find the words. 
“Hyung, what’s wrong?” A million possibilities race through Changbin’s mind; he knows what Chan does for extra cash, and he knows the dangers that can come from it. He’s trying not to assume the worst, but fuck, whatever happened must be bad if Chan is choked up on the other end. “I’m gonna be late coming home tonight. I, uh.. I need to take Y/N home. She’s with me,” Chan says and Changbin is quiet for a moment as he processes the information he was given.
“I thought you had a job tonight, though. Are you saying..?” “Yeah, she saw me,” Chan interjects, not even needing to let Changbin finish his question. “Fuck, okay, just.. Take your time, alright? Don’t rush to come home, we’re fine. I’ll let them know what's up so don’t worry about it, just take care of Y/N.” “Yeah, I will.. Thanks, I’ll see you later,” Chan mutters into the phone before he hangs up, stuffing it back into his pocket and taking another shaky breath before he turns back to you.
“Chan-” you start when you see him walking back over to you, but he quickly cuts you off. “Let’s get you home, I didn’t park my car from here,” he says tersely, walking briskly towards the end of the street. You frown, but decide not to dwell on it too much; you can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now, and the last thing you want to do is make the situation even worse than it already is. 
You follow him swiftly, trying not to be concerned about the silence between you. It doesn’t take long for you to see his car, parked in a nearby empty parking lot, the only car in sight. Chan doesn’t drive much, his car basically reserved strictly for work and emergencies, so you’ve only been in it a handful of times. You wonder now though if this is the reason he only uses it when he has to- do police know his license plate? You don’t know if you’re ready to find out. 
When you reach his car, he unlocks it wordlessly, and you both enter quietly, neither of you uttering a single thing even as he starts the engine and pulls off the street. You want to try talking to him again but you aren't sure if you should even try yet; he's very clearly upset but if he's not ready to talk about it yet then there's nothing you can do. 
Truthfully, Chan desperately wants to say something, hating the silence he was subjecting you to, but found himself at a loss for words and stuck in his own head. Jae's words before he walked away rang in his head over and over again. "If you think a good girl like her can fall in love with trash like you, you're pathetic." And it was true, he was pathetic.
It was pathetic to pretend he could have a better life than this. Pathetic to think you would always be with him. Pathetic to think anything about him was worthy of love. What kind of happy life was he hoping for when this is what his life was truly like? He knew there was no easy way out of this kind of shit once you entered it, but at the time he really had no choice. He tried everything else possible and there was nothing left; and even with how dangerous he knew it could be he was resolved to see it through because when he began he was just a kid in desperate need of cash at any cost.  
He wishes things could be different now. He didn't want you to ever see this side of his life, to see the kinds of things he had to do to afford all of the things a person needs to survive. And while the rational part of Chan's brain was telling him there was no way you'd just walk away or hate him, it was overpowered by the wave of self loathing washing over him. 
Because even if you didn't hate him after this, could you love him? Could you even still look at him the same way you could just last week, when you gave him that bright smile you always did. Would you still want to confide in him? To rely on him? To let him rely on you? He doesn’t know if you realized it, but Chan has come to rely on you a lot. 
Not in the overt ways like asking for help or opening up about his deepest thoughts, which he only did on occasion, but in the normalcy you offered him. In your presence, Chan felt like the life he wanted was attainable, like he could leave all the bad behind him and have something good. You were always there to distract him from the life he led privately, to give him a sense of peace. He could be comfortable around you, and allow himself to relax. 
He could be carefree and live in the moment instead of being stressed about what the future held for him. He could forget about all his regrets just from seeing you smiling up at him. Late at night when insomnia was gripping him, he would look over your messages fondly and wonder what it would be like to share a bed one day. For you to be next to him on his worst nights and help lull him into a peaceful sleep that he wasn't normally rewarded. To kiss you awake and bask in how beautiful you’d be naked with the morning sun glowing around you. 
To Chan, any chance of that future with you was taken away the moment you saw the ugly truth of his life. Even if by some miracle you decided you still wanted to be around him, he knew it wouldn't be the same. There was no way your view of him wouldn't be tainted after this. You'd become strained, being pulled away from each other little by little until nothing was left of the friendship you once held, or of the feelings he'd hoped to admit to you when he was able to leave behind the things that bound him. 
He should just leave your life now, before things get even worse; the pain he'd have to endure if he held on now would become unbearable. You'd distance yourself from him, you'd meet a good guy who actually deserves you and fall in love, you'd forget all about him.. And that's how it should be. You deserved better than him; he knew he had nothing of worth to offer you. 
And he was sure in response you'd bring up how he was there for you and supported you, but anyone could do that. That was the bare minimum of a relationship. What did he have to offer you other than support? There was nothing he could think of that felt good enough or like he was worthy of anyone's time, much less yours. It was better to get the heartbreak over with now.. it would hurt, but much less so than if he prolonged the process. He needed to just rip the bandaid off now and get it over with for both your sakes. He couldn't delay the inevitable.
You felt stiff, the silence deafening as he drove you to your dorm. You couldn't tell what Chan was feeling anymore, his face completely void of anything, as if he turned his emotions off. You didn't know what to do; he cut you off when you tried to speak to him earlier, and now it seemed like anything you said now wouldn't reach him. It was as if he was running on autopilot, like he wasn't truly there with you anymore. 
It didn't take all that long to reach your street given that you were traveling by car, and you felt dread welling in your gut. You wanted to talk to him, to tell him you know he must have his reasons, that you understand that life is cruel and he's probably just doing what he has to, to tell him you understand why he didn't tell you but that you want to hear him out and be there for him regardless. You were approaching your dorm now, and you turned to look at him once again. 
He was so close but felt so far away, his face remaining devoid of emotion. His gaze didn't meet yours, instead he stared straight ahead at the street even after he parked, as if purposely avoiding your eyes. "Chan.." you start again, hoping he'll finally respond to you. You see him swallow and his hands tense up, clutching the steering wheel tighter now. 
His lower lip begins to tremble, but he tells himself he can't give in. This is what is best for you, he's sure of it. Just rip the bandaid off now, it'll be better that way. He can't make your life worse if he steps away now. He can't give himself false hope if he lets you go now. "Chan, I-" "Just go inside," he cuts you off, the pain evident in his voice despite how hard he's trying to mask it. 
"But I-" "Don't. Please don't. Just go." Tears well in your eyes, but you obliged, feeling like now isn't the time to push him on anything. Chan doesn't watch as you exit the car, nor does he acknowledge the way you look back at him one last time before you enter your dorm. It's better this way. It's better this way. It's better this way. He lowers his head to the steering wheel, resting his forehead against his shaking hands. And for the first time in years, he really cries, knowing that you'll never look at him the same again. 
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You woke up the next morning with the hopes that Chan was ready to talk to you. You texted him when you were in bed last night, telling him that you care about him and that you just want to talk to him, but he left you with no response. You reasoned with yourself that he’d need more time; Jaehyung unveiling Chan’s deepest secret to you must have shaken him far more than you can imagine, and it makes sense that he’d need time to process. 
Chan led an undeniably hard life, you knew that well at this point; he lost his parents young, his adoptive family were terrible to him, and he dropped out and left them behind to try to make it on his own. He never shared any details about the things he had to do as a child to get by, just leaving it at simple statements that offered no further context. And you weren’t deluded into expecting anything from him; regardless of details he did or didn’t share, you knew he had been through a lot and you weren’t going to ask anything of him that he wasn’t prepared to offer up himself. 
You figured that one day, when Chan had grown comfortable enough and was assured that you were a safe person to share the details of his life with, he’d break down his barriers on his own. All you had to do was be there for him, be consistent with your words and actions, and offer him a safe space to be his authentic self; whatever that self may be. 
And while this wasn’t the outcome you had expected, you hoped that all your efforts up until now had shown him that you were someone he could trust. You weren’t going to judge him, you weren’t going to abandon him, your opinion of him hadn’t changed with the truth. And you told him as much through messages, hoping that when he read them that he’d believe your words. When he didn’t respond you were saddened, but it had only been a few hours since everything took place so you didn’t fault him. You were sure he just needed time, and you didn’t want to put any further pressure on him when he was clearly upset, so instead you just offered kind words to assure him everything was okay. 
However, as the days passed on, you began to lose hope that he’d ever respond. You did your best to stop the sadness encroaching in your heart, telling yourself that there could be a ton of reasons he isn’t speaking to you right now. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions, there was surely a reasonable explanation. His life didn’t revolve around you after all, and a small break in communication shouldn’t linger over you like this. You continued to comfort yourself with rational explanations as you went about your days, hoping with all your heart that you weren’t just deluding yourself.
Felix, who saw you most days due to your routine of coming into the cafe he worked at, could see the toll it was taking on you to have Chan not talk to you. He didn’t even know what exactly happened; Changbin said the two of you had a tiff, but that it should resolve itself after a bit since the two of you cared so much about each other. But as time went on, with Chan so distant and holed up in his room unless he was working, he wasn’t so sure that whatever went on between you was something minor. 
And then when you stopped in one morning, you confirmed what Felix already feared; that Chan’s isolation didn’t extend to just them, but to you as well. He wasn’t replying to any of your texts, and that made Felix’s concern for the two of you grow tenfold. So he talked about it with the others he lived with, barring Chan, and the 3 of them agreed that you should come over to try and make whatever happened right. And besides, all of you were friends, so it only made sense to facilitate a resolution between you. 
They ask you over on a friendly pretense; it’s been a while since you all hung out together, and some fun seemed like it was much needed. You were nervous given the state of your friendship with Chan, but ultimately agreed because you really did miss them as well. Changbin was the one to answer the door when you arrived at their house, smiling and easing your anxiety by making casual conversation with you. Hyunjin and Felix smiled as well when they saw you, greeting you warmly and offering you hugs before you sat down on the couch. 
Hyunjin sat next to you, while Changbin and Felix sat on the chairs nearby. “Is Chan here?” you asked, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you glanced toward the stairs. “Not yet, but he will be soon! While we wait, we should figure out dinner. Anything you want?” Felix suggests and you smile as you nod, feeling comforted by the fact that you have such good friends. 
Chan walks into the house not much later, freezing up once further inside and seeing you sitting there with his brothers. “Hey hyung, we’re just ordering some food before we have a movie night! You should join us,” Felix smiles, hoping that once Chan sees you all together, he can put aside whatever made him so upset and can go back to how things were before. 
Your heart breaks when you look at him, noticing that his dark circles are worse than before, hurt by the knowledge that he must’ve lost even more sleep than he already does, and it’s all your fault. He avoids your gaze, looking instead at his brothers; he knew this was bound to happen, you became friends with them just as much as him, after all. And while Changbin knew the real reason behind Chan’s distance from you, the other 2 didn’t, so of course they’d invite you over to the house and try to rebuild the bridge that he’d burnt. 
But he couldn’t take it; the way all of you stared at him, expecting something from him. You swallow, trying your best not to cry as you look at him, waiting for him to say something to ease all the sadness and anxiety within you. “..No, thanks,” he mutters, going quickly up the stairs and straight to his room, the sound of his door closing clearly heard once he’s reached it. Dejection settles in your gut, your heart shattering into more pieces than you could possibly count. 
Changbin, who is sitting directly across from you, is the first to see your crestfallen expression, and he tries to offer you words of consolation, but you can barely even hear them. You stare down at your lap, trying to blink away the tears that welled in your eyes. Would he never speak to you again? Did you irreparably damage his trust in you? Why wouldn’t he say anything to you?
He was the first person in your life to ever see what Jae was doing to you and help, and he brought with him the kindest people you had ever known. He supported you through your tears, he protected you from the people who wanted to hurt you most. He listened to you as you talked about your life's worries, even when it was something silly like not wanting to do the night's homework. Chan became a constant in your life, truly living up to his promise to be there for you during any and everything, both good and bad. And now that same person was pulling away from you for reasons you couldn’t understand. 
The tears begin pouring before you can even try to stop them, falling to your lap and darkening the fabric of your pants where they fall. Hyunjin notices right away, and pulls you into a hug, trying his best to comfort you by assuring you that nothing happening was your fault. “It is my fault,” you choke out between sobs, burying your face in Hyunjin’s shoulder as sobs escape you. Felix quickly moves in next to you as well, rubbing your back and offering just as much kindness as his brother. 
Changbin’s expression turns into a grimace as he listens to you sniffle and sob, how you blame yourself for everything that was happening despite his brother’s best efforts to calm your aching heart. What the fuck is Chan doing? Felix watches him stand, a look of concern painted on his features; nothing good happens when Changbin is angry. “I’ll be back,” he says with irritability clear in his voice, stepping away from the chair and to the stairs. 
He reaches Chan’s bedroom door in a matter of seconds, trying the door knob without hesitation and is pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked. Good, so he didn’t have to pound at the door and make him come out then. He opens it swiftly, met with the sight of Chan simply sitting on his bed, doing not much of anything. Chan frowns as he turns to his now open door, but isn’t all that surprised at this turn of events. He knew one of them would confront him eventually, and Changbin wasn’t one to hold his tongue if something was on his mind, so it was only a matter of time before Chan got what he was anticipating. “What the fuck are you doing?” Changbin questions, wasting no time at getting straight to the point. 
Chan expected that Changbin wouldn’t waste any time dancing around the subject, but he still wasn’t prepared to unearth the extent of his self loathing. Was he really going to admit how pathetic he felt out loud? Admit to how much he hated himself? Admit to how he felt unworthy of anyone’s time? The silence only served to spur on Changbin’s annoyance, and he crosses his arms as he steps closer to Chan. “Are you really not going to say anything?” 
Chan looks up at Changbin from his seat, meeting his accusatory gaze. “It’s better this way.” he says and Changbin scoffs in response, clearly finding his answer unsatisfactory. “Oh yeah? Y/N crying her eyes out because you refuse to acknowledge her is better?” Chan’s heart squeezes in his chest at hearing that you’re crying, but he still knew it was for the best. After the initial pain she’ll move on and forget about me like she should. She shouldn’t want someone like me. She shouldn’t support someone like me. I have nothing. I am nothing. “Yeah, it’s better.” Chan manages to force the words out. 
“What about what you promised her? Are you going to sit around and do nothing if Jae targets her again?” Changbin’s voice raises, not quite a yell but still louder than his previous speaking tone. “She still has you and the others.” Chan frowns as he answers. It’s not like he was leaving you completely alone and defenseless; his friends were your friends too now, and he knew they wouldn’t let anything happen to you.��
“We’re not the ones she wants,” Changbin nearly shouts, and Chan tenses at this, the statement clearly striking a chord in him. “That’s the whole problem! I shouldn’t be the one she wants!” Chan shouts suddenly as he stands from his bed now, seemingly unable to control the sudden outburst. He freezes after realizing he just said what he was thinking out loud for Changbin to hear; now he knows how pathetic and cowardly he truly is, and there would be no taking it back. 
Changbin’s brows furrow in bewilderment at Chan’s sudden outburst. He understood that what Chan did to make money has risks, and he understood why Chan wouldn’t want you to be a part of that. What he couldn’t understand was why Chan was shutting you out now that you knew about it. Why was he needlessly subjecting you to pain when, in his opinion, you could simply talk it out? 
From Changbin’s perspective, everything would be okay. You clearly didn’t think negatively of him after the reveal, you were still seeking him out and wanting to be near him regardless of what you’d found out about him. And even if you did harbor some ill feeling about it that Changbin couldn’t notice, you were at least trying. You weren’t going to let something you cared about go over a single event, unlike Chan, who was acting like a fucking coward right now. He was throwing everything away, and for what? He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.
“You’re being a fucking idiot,” Changbin scowls. “You just don’t understand,” Chan counters and Changbin scoffs at the statement. “Then make me understand. What am I not getting here? I’d love to know.” Changbin challenged him, words dripping with animosity. 
You don’t understand that she’s too good for trash like me. What is there to love about me? What can I offer her that couldn’t be given by someone else? What kind of life can we live together with the things I've done? She’s smart, ambitious, beautiful.. She can strive for better life and a better person. Someone with high aspirations. Someone who has a better education. Someone who didn’t lead a dangerous life and could put her in danger just by association.  
But instead of saying all that he just averts his gaze, stepping down from Changbin’s challenge without a word. “Fine then, you can have fun with your pity party by yourself, cause I’m not staying to watch it,” Changbin bites as he swiftly turns his back to Chan, preparing to leave his room. “You may be willing to treat a promise like it’s nothing, but don’t expect the rest of us to be okay with it.” He leaves as soon as he’s finished, slamming Chan’s door behind him as he goes.
Right. This is what he deserves. To have nothing and no one, just like before. Because why should he have anything good after what he’s done? He wanted to be the good person you saw him as, but he just isn’t. He’s the worst kind of hypocrite, his virtue circumstantial and fleeting. The good things he did for the people he cared about didn’t cancel out all the bad that came before it, forever staining him no matter how many layers he scrubbed. 
He tried to comfort himself by saying he did it because he had to, because he had no other choice and couldn’t afford to live otherwise, but did it matter? Could he say he lived a life his parents would be proud of? No, but you made him want to try. And he was trying, so, so hard; to leave all that bad shit behind, to be someone worth caring about, to be better. But there are some things that never change, some things that can’t be left behind or escaped from no matter what you do, and he supposes this is just another reminder of that lesson. 
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The weeks that followed Chan’s refusal to see you were easily the most painful of your life. You’d never experienced a heartbreak like this before, any pain you thought you felt before paling in comparison to the utter anguish you felt from the loss of Chan in your life. At least before, when you had become distant and separated from friends, you still had contact; you could message each other freely, you could meet up during school breaks or even weekends if time permitted, you still had your bond despite being in different places. But with Chan, it felt like he burnt every bridge he ever had with you. 
You gave up trying to talk to him all together, letting the amount of messages you’d send in a day fizzle more and more, until they inevitably reached zero. In your daily life, you still had the others, but it didn’t feel the same; you felt like an intruder now, like you were encroaching on their space and would just cause strife by being there, so eventually you stopped accepting invitations to hang out with them. Even when you saw them away from the house, you couldn’t meet their smiles the way you once had, because all it did was deepen the ache in your heart. You wanted to appreciate it, to thank them for trying to keep your friendship alive, but every time it just served as a reminder that Chan wouldn't be there for you anymore. 
You also felt at fault for causing a rift between them. Though you stopped staying around the group pretty soon after Chan made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you, you could tell things weren’t the same between them anymore. Changbin especially always seemed to be upset with him, calling him an idiot or a coward, making his distaste for what happened well known. Hyunjin would continue to assure you that nothing was your fault, that Chan just had complicated feelings to work through, but despite his words, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling at fault regardless. 
If Chan had never helped you in the first place that day he saw Jae on you, their friendship wouldn’t be in this state. If you were a stronger person back then, someone who could handle things by herself, then he wouldn’t have had to step in. And now even Felix makes an effort to comfort you all the time, going as far as to give you an extra cookie and discounting your coffee whenever you’re in his cafe. They always showed you just how kind they were, compassionate beyond words and so patient (well, maybe except Changbin, who definitely was not patient.) 
Truly, you admired them, and Chan above all, who they credited for bringing them together and making them who they are in the first place. But now that same person who you had quickly grown to admire so much was avoiding you on all fronts, leaving you with nothing else to do but move on or wait for him to come to terms with whatever he was struggling with. And truthfully you didn’t want to move on, but waiting wasn’t becoming any easier. Despite the fact that he was within reach, there was nothing you could do. Every glimpse you caught of him or reminder of his absence from his friends left your heart aching in your chest. 
Before you realize it, your last class of the day has ended, and you sigh as you look down at your nonexistent notes. You found it difficult lately to focus on your work with your mind cycling through all its thoughts about Chan. Before, you used to find an escape in your school work; even if everything was crashing around you, you could pour your energy into your work, and find some satisfaction with the good grades you got in exchange for your efforts. But now even that was difficult for you, and you sighed as you knew you’d have to play catch up in your spare time if you wanted to maintain your grades. 
It was the first time in your life you’d ever felt so inadequate; even though it was merely a stress induced performance loss, it still tanked the confidence you had in your ability to succeed, which was the last thing you needed to add to your growing list of problems. Your only saving grace at this point was that Changbin agreed to help you out, and that your professors were gracious enough to let you re-do assignments or get in some extra credit (which they only did because of the good track record you had before your personal life tanked.) 
Truthfully, you felt terrible requesting Changbin’s help to catch back up in your classes, but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and thankfully agreed to study away from the house so you wouldn’t risk seeing Chan and having your heart shatter again after having just managed to start picking up the pieces. You text him now that your class has ended to make sure the study session is still on, and with his confirmation, you decide it’d be a good idea to head back to your room and prepare to meet up with him. 
It takes you no more than 15 minutes to get back to the dorms from where your last class was, and you spend a decent amount of time cramming your bag full of all the textbooks and supplementary materials you’ll need for the evening. The plan was to study together at Sunshine Cafe, where the two of you could sprawl your belongings out on one of the coffee tables towards the back and sit on the comfort of the couch, while Felix would provide you with snacks and drinks to get you through the brain overload you’d certainly begin to feel. 
It’ll still be some time before Changbin meets up with you given that your class schedules don’t entirely align, but it’d still be good to head out and get some self study in until he gets there (and you could really use a change in secenery given that all you've done lately is go to you classes and then straight back to your dorm when they were over.) Once assured you have everything you need tucked in your bag, you sling it over your shoulders, letting your roommates know you might not be home till late before you head out. 
Walking to the cafe with all the extra weight on your back and shoulders certainly isn’t pleasant, but you’ll just have to deal with it if you want to make sure you do well on your catch-up assignments and upcoming exams. And all in all, you actually feel pretty good right now; your friendship with Chan and emotional state might be in shambles, but at least you’re trying your best to pick yourself back up, and that’s what matters most, right? 
But all that positivity you feel is drained in an instant, when at the end of the street you’re on, you see Jae standing right in your path, looking at you with a smile once he notices you’re there. You curse, knowing you still have a few blocks to traverse before you reach your destination, and that anything could happen in the time it takes to get there. 
He starts to approach you, smirking as he does- you don’t know what he has planned when he reaches you, but you don’t want to find out. Did he know that Chan stopped being there for you? Does he think that now that Chan is out of your life he can do whatever he wants? Or was it a cruel coincidence that he saw you here, a coincidence that he now plans on taking advantage of? 
You still have the others, but it’s extremely possible that Jae either doesn’t know, doesn’t care, or is willing to risk it now that Chan being out of the picture takes away one of his biggest threats. There’s a slight hope that maybe he just wants to say something, rubbing salt in your wound by saying “I told you so,” and then he’d go on his way, but the look in his eyes tells you otherwise. He has the same insidious look you saw every day when you were in school together, the twisted delight in his eyes that told you whatever you were in for wouldn’t be pleasant. 
You quickly turn the other direction, ducking into a side street you’d passed moments prior, hoping that you can either use the side streets to make it to the cafe or make Jae lose sight of you. If you were lucky, you’d make it there with no problems, and Felix could shelter you in the cafe until Jae left on his own or Changbin showed up and made him leave. You hear Jae’s laugh behind you, and you panic as you notice that he’s catching up to you much quicker than you’d hoped, the weight of your countless textbooks and study materials definitely not doing you any favors. 
Shit- what do you do now? It becomes increasingly apparent that Jae catching up to you is inevitable, and there is nowhere for you to turn to escape him. As quickly as you can, you grab your phone from out of your bag, hoping that Jae doesn’t realize what you’re doing. You needed to call Chan; you weren’t even sure if he’d uphold the promise he made to you at this point, but what other hope did you have? Chan was the person who said he’d always answer if you called him, and you wanted to believe that. No, you had to believe that. 
Not wasting any further time thinking about it, you send Chan a ping of your location before promptly pressing the call button on his name, haphazardly shoving your phone back in your bag and praying that Jae doesn’t notice as thing when he reaches you. 
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Chan frowned as he sat on his couch, once again thinking about you despite his best efforts to get you off his mind. Despite how much he knew it was best to detach himself from you, he still found himself unable to do so easily. Maybe it was his underlying selfishness that didn’t want to let you go, or that his feelings for you had just grown far too much to be quashed, but he couldn’t help but continue to worry about you every day. He felt stupid being so upset about a decision he made, that he truly felt was the right thing to do, but the right decisions are never the easy ones, or so the saying goes. 
Despite all he told himself though, the gnawing feeling continued to eat away at him day after day. ”You’re seeing Y/N today right?” he couldn’t help himself from asking Changbin before he left for the day, and he rolled his eyes, giving Chan an incredulous look. “So you care all of a sudden, huh? Heard me talking about it with Felix? Yeah, we’re meeting up when my classes are over. But don’t worry,” Changbin says with a mildly sarcastic tone before he continues, “I’ll do a good job of looking after her since you won’t.” 
Chan frowned at Changbin’s tone, but he knows it isn’t entirely undeserved given the circumstances. You’re their friend too after all, and he wouldn’t talk kindly to this either if the roles were reversed and it was someone else doing this to you. “Binnie-hyung is still giving you a hard time, I see,” Hyunjin said as he stepped in from the kitchen, sitting next to Chan with his breakfast in hand. Chan just sighed in response, closing his eyes and letting his head hit the back of the couch. 
Was he really doing the right thing or was he just deluding himself into thinking so? Even putting aside the fact that he hasn’t loved himself a day in his life, isn't it just objectively true that you should want nothing to do with him? He knows you care about him, but it’s not exactly uncommon for good people to put their love in the wrong places, and Chan was definitely one of those wrong places. “It’s not too late to make up with Y/N if you want to, you know,” Hyunjin spoke carefully, hoping that at the very least Chan would openly admit and talk about what went so wrong instead of keeping everything so bottled up inside. 
Time passed, and for a moment Hyunjin thought Chan wouldn't say anything at all, before he suddenly spoke up. “I.. don’t know about that. I’m not sure if I even want her to forgive me.” “Why not?” Hyunjin asked, taken aback by the admission. Chan sighed again, self-doubt and anxiety making their presence obvious as they always did when he was dealing with complicated emotions. Truth be told, there was a lot of lingering doubt about his reaction towards you that Chan was scared to confront. 
Should he stop being so stubborn and talk to you or should he be assured in his decision and maintain his distance? He heard multiple times that he was an idiot for detaching himself in the first place (mostly from Changbin, who was the most outspoken with this thoughts), and though he felt like it was the right decision at the time given all his faults and self-doubt, he couldn’t fight the way he missed being around you every day. He knew how much it would hurt to separate himself from you, but it’s what felt right at the time given the tirade of self-hatred that told him he had to. 
He knew the guys didn't agree, and he knew it hurt you just as much as it hurt him, but how was he supposed to explain to everyone how much he hated himself? How much he loved you but knew he would just hold you back? You deserved better than to fall in love with a criminal for hire with no future ambitions. You deserved better than someone who was just coasting through life until the day no one needed him anymore and left him behind. Not to mention that the only ones who knew what he did in secrecy were Changbin, Minho, and now you. 
He used to not think at all about what it would be like to fall in love with someone; he assumed he could just figure it all out when the day came, even if it was years down the line. His mental health was in the gutter and life was hard, but when isn’t it? Aren’t most people unhappy? Besides, he still had his friends, and that was good enough for him. And he didn’t want it to sound like he was never happy, or always miserable, but it wasn't until he spent more and more time with you that he realized how much he yearned for a deeper connection with someone.
Sure, being with his brothers made him happy, and the time he spent with them was valuable and irreplaceable to him, but what would happen in the future when they had their own lives? He barely sees half of them anymore, and soon the other half will move on too, following their dreams, meeting more and more new people, making new friends and building families. And what would Chan have at the end of it all? Nothing, he had come to realize, he would have absolutely nothing. 
No goals, no ambitions, and nothing to offer other than the bare minimum. And he knew you well enough now to know you would say that it's enough, but he just couldn't agree; to Chan, it was nowhere near enough for you, enough for anyone. Becoming your friend opened his eyes to how many mistakes he’d been making, made him confront the reality that feelings and wants you bury deep down will always resurface, and he knew he couldn’t avoid all the things he’d been trying to anymore. 
A lifetime’s worth of sadness, more regrets than he could count on his fingers, and a longing for connection with someone who would love him as he was, faults and all, and help him become better. He had that chance with you, and he blew it; and then, instead of trying to make it right, he retreated back into the very shell he tried so hard to break out of. Instead of putting out the fire that had grown, he watched it burn, telling himself it was better to let everything become ash than risk the burns he would suffer from trying to salvage what little he had. 
In the end, it’s all excuses. He didn’t want to face the fact that he was scared, or admit how little his self-worth he really has, so he fled the scene, and when he was called out, his arguments rang hollow, because even Chan himself knew how little his words could actually be believed. It was true that Chan didn’t believe he deserved anything good, but maybe it was okay to let people care about him regardless. Maybe he needed them to, so that he could finally allow himself to be happy. 
And so he talked to Hyunjin; he told him everything, about what he did, how he felt then and how he feels now, and about how much it hurts to be away from you when he’s so fucking obviously in love with you but feels too worthless to be around you. It was a lot of information to take in, but Hyunjin was truly happy he was finally doing something that was long overdue. Chan had spent so much of his life avoiding his feelings and keeping his thoughts to himself, that Hyunjin expected him to dance around it, but he hadn’t. It was proof of the positive effect you had on him, evidence that Chan needed you maybe even more than you felt you needed him. 
Chan didn’t cry, though he certainly felt like he would at times, and Hyunjin truly was proud of him. Sure, he learned some things about Chan that definitely came as a shock, but he had hope that once Chan was done processing all his complicated feelings and getting himself out of the bad shit he no longer wanted to associate with, that the two of you could go back to the friendship you once had. 
He’d left Chan alone after that, citing that he had commissions to work on, though really he just thought it would do Chan some good to have some time to himself to let his thoughts and feelings settle, and hopefully get another step closer to reconnecting with you. Chan himself was still on the couch, thinking a lot about what he should do going forward. Why did everything always have to be so complicated? 
He’s there for a while, cycling between various thoughts related to you and his feelings, when his phone suddenly buzzes from within his pocket. He pulls it out, immediately being met with a message from you, the first you've sent in weeks. But it’s… your location? You’ve never sent him it before, and the fact that you did so without a follow up explanation spreads worry through him. And before he can even react to receiving the message, a call comes through, caller ID clearly displaying your name. Out of all the time you'd known him, this was the first time you were actually calling him. He swallows before he answers, nervous as all hell but knowing he shouldn’t hesitate if you need help. 
“Hello..?” Chan answers carefully, unsure if he should speak at full volume until he knows what kind of situation you’re in. His hand immediately clenches around his phone when he hears Jae’s voice clearly taunting you on the other end; it’s muffled, your phone’s speaker clearly blocked by something, but the voice Chan hears is unmistakable. He curses under his breath as he moves the phone from his face to mute himself, not wanting to accidentally make Jae aware that you managed to call him. Chan refused to risk Jae finding out and ending the call before he can find out what exactly he’s doing to you. 
"Aww, crying already?" he hears Jae's voice patronizing you. Chan scowls, fully aware that there’s no time to waste. He gets his shoes on as quickly as possible, sprinting out of his front door and rushing down the street in a matter of seconds. The location you sent him is on a side street not all too far away from the house, and he hopes that Jae hasn’t dragged you too far away from the spot you sent him. The city is huge when you’re in the heart of it after all, and there would be more possibilities than Chan can count as to where you would be if you’re no longer there. 
He runs as fast as his feet can possibly carry him, not wanting to waste even a single second in getting to you, or give Jae the opportunity to do something terrible. He holds the phone to his ear even as he runs, desperate for a sign that you’re doing okay despite whatever situation you’ve been put in. “Chan taking you away from me really pissed me off. I like you a lot, you know,” Jae’s voice comes through the phone again, and his tone makes Chan grit his teeth. 
Chan wants to rain absolute hell on Jae, make him regret ever laying a single hand on you, but he knows he likely won’t get that chance. Making sure you’re okay and getting you away is his priority, and as much as he wants to obliterate Jae, it will have to wait until after he takes care of you. No matter what Jae deserves, no matter how much he hates him, you are his one and only priority right now, and he will protect you. 
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You stare up at the bright blue sky, eyes fixed on the fluffy, passing clouds above you, and you don’t react. You’re limp against the cold, unforgiving wall you’ve been pressed against, completely numb, blocking out everything around you. You hear Jae’s voice but his words don’t register, his hand on your body but your skin no longer reacts to what it feels. Your vision has blurred from tears in your eyes that haven’t fallen, but you continue to stare upward, making no effort to blink them away. 
You had no words to describe the way you felt; it was a devastation so deep that it turned into nothingness, a void. You knew Chan wasn’t coming to help you and you shouldn’t have hoped for it. All you did was set yourself up for the worst heartbreak of all, an incomparable feeling of betrayal and hopelessness, the solidification that this was your reality now, and you just had to face it instead of holding onto hope that it would be different. 
But despite it all, you can’t really blame Chan for not being here. You knew you were weak, and you knew you were a target, but that isn’t Chan’s fault or responsibility. It must be a burden to worry about you all the time, or annoying that you don’t stand up for yourself nearly as much as you should. Your few moments of strength get reduced to nothing in mere seconds, and you always revert back to the scared person you’ve always been. 
And no matter how foolish it is to hope for, all you can think about is how you wish Chan was here. You hoped he’d be here, hoped he’d reassure you. You wanted to feel his gentle embrace and hear his voice, knowing he’d console you with tender words and a soothing tone. And most of all, you really just missed him, missed him more than anything, so, so much.
The way he smiled at you, the way his expression changed when he was embarrassed or being teased, the way he cared for everyone and everything more than you’d ever think a person capable of. Though he certainly did bad things, his kindness towards you was radiant. You didn’t want to define him by what you saw, because you knew him beyond that. You knew how sweet he is, how caring he is, how much he wanted to help others. He understood the value in a helping hand and offered it freely to anyone who needed it without a second thought.
You couldn’t find it within yourself to feel anything but compassion for him even with how alone you felt from his absence. Your glimpses into his life allowed you to see him for who he was beyond what his appearance would suggest. You knew there was more to him than you even learned, hidden parts of his past, his life, and his feelings that you hadn’t yet uncovered. So even when he distanced himself from you, you couldn’t hate him. You knew there was a reason, knew there was something underneath that he was scared to share with you. Chan wasn’t the type to leave someone behind nor break a promise, you refused to believe that he was. 
You just wished he was here, wished that he’d share his thoughts and feelings with you. Wouldn’t things turn out differently if he had? You wanted to support him as much as he supported you. You wanted to encourage him and cheer him on. Even with Jae’s words circling around you and his touch against your skin, your mind was consumed by Chan. At this point you felt you were crying more from his loss than from anything Jae was doing to you. He had just become a catalyst for your feelings to burst, his presence feeling almost nonexistent against the yearning you felt for Chan. 
You loved him. Truly, and above all else. And you knew that no matter what, it wouldn’t change. Chan’s presence in your life irrevocably changed you; he supported you when no one else had, and you loved his personality and his endearing smile. You loved the contrast between his tough exterior and his sweet characteristics. He was simultaneously strong and gentle, both cold and warm, sunshine and rain wrapped into one person. And you loved him, for all that he was.
"Get your fucking hands off her!" You hear Chan's voice shout and you blink in confusion, allowing the tears that were stuck to fall. Is he really here? Or are you in so much pain that now your brain is tricking you, trying to comfort you with a lie? You don’t know, but you welcome it all the same, because even if it is just a trick, it’s the best one you’ll ever be given. 
Your body barely registers the feeling of Jae's weight being shifted off of you, Chan's voice having a chokehold on your senses. Your gaze shifts from the sky to the right; You see Jae, who has evidently fallen backwards onto the floor, the left side of his face a stark red from what you assume was an impact. He’s clearly shocked, but the emotion quickly changes into one of pure hatred directed to the presence left of you. You swallow as you shift your gaze to the left, heart squeezing in your chest when you see Chan, more tears welling in your eyes. He's really here? He really came for you?
Chan's fists are clenched, gaze piercing into Jae with disgust and vitriol. He wants to fucking kill him if he's being honest, but he has to do his best to keep a level head for your sake. He has to get you out of here, keep you safe. "You ever fucking touch her again, I promise you'll regret it," Chan spits at Jae, stepping closer to him and giving one more punch for good measure, assuring he'll stay down and not follow your exit. 
"Y/N, don't let go," Chan says as he turns to you, taking your hand in his. The moment still feels surreal to you, but you do as he says, keeping your grip tight as he runs with you, leading you quickly away from Jae. You run for what feels like ages, but surprisingly don’t feel tired; must be adrenaline coursing through you, or maybe the emotions you feel right now are preventing you from noticing any sort of ache in your legs. 
The next thing you know, you’re at his house, with him leading you up to the safety of his room. You collapse to his bed the minute you’re fully inside, trying to catch your breath after all the running as you still hold tightly to his hand. “I’m just gonna close the door, okay? I’m not leaving,” he says when he notices the way your hand clings to him when he tries to separate, not wanting to let him go. You hesitate, hand trembling as you hold onto his. Everything still feels unreal, and like if you let go he’ll vanish from your sight, and you’ll wake up in the same place you were before, with none of this having happened. 
You look at his face, taking in his soft but serious expression. You feel the warmth in his hand, see the care in his eyes, and you know- you’re okay now. You don't have to be scared anymore. So you eventually nod as you let go, watching as he closes the bedroom door before returning swiftly to your side. He examines you carefully, scowling at the disheveled state of your clothes but overall relieved to see no injury. He steps away for just a moment to rifle through his drawers, pulling out a shift and handing it carefully to you. 
“Here, put this on,” he says, and it prompts you to look down at yourself for the first time. The buttons at the top of your blouse are almost entirely undone, with some buttons completely missing and leaving your bra partially exposed. You frown at the realization that with the buttons missing you won’t be able to button up your blouse again and it’s effectively ruined, but you’re thankful that Chan is offering you something to wear in its place. 
He turns his back to you to let you change in peace, and he doesn’t turn back around until you’ve made it clear that you’re done. “Are you okay..?” he asks softly now as he kneels in front you, eyes fixed straight on you. You meet his gaze, lip trembling as you look at him. You feel overwhelmed, confused, relieved.. Where do you even begin? You look down, swallowing the lump in your throat as more emotion threatens to spill out from your eyes. 
"I'm sorry," he breaks the silence, and you look up, blinking away the tears in the corners of your eyes. "I.. I should've been there for you. I shouldn't have let that happen to you.. I'm sorry," Chan tells you, voice shaky through his apology. He feels so fucking guilty. He wished so badly he didn't let the voice in his head affect him, that he didn't self-destruct so badly and drag you down with him. 
"It's okay," you say, reaching your hand out to grab his, and Chan shakes his head, voice breaking as he talks to you. "It's not okay, I- I broke my promise to you." "You didn't," you say with a small frown and Chan's brows furrow in response. "Yes I did, I-'' You shake your head, cutting him off with your own words, "Do you remember what you told me when we first became friends? When you put your number in my phone?" 
Chan swallows as he thinks back to nearly a year ago, when he found you cornered and vulnerable, Jae tormenting you and expecting to get away with it. "I.. told you to call me," he says after a short moment. "Call me next time, I'll answer. If you call, I'll hear it. I'll come running," you quote him, the words having engraved themselves in your memory. They were probably small to Chan but they meant so much to you. You'd never experienced such kindness before, such an earnest care for your wellbeing, and from someone that was basically a stranger to you. 
That was your proof that he was a good person; someone who deserved kindness and appreciation just as much as anyone else. He was kind, caring, and selfless even to a fault. And you knew Chan didn't believe he was, didn't think anything he did was special but it was, and you want to repay all the care he's shown you, in any way you could. "That was your promise," you continue and Chan's breath hitches in his throat at your words, "I called and you came, just like you said you would, so.. You don't have to apologize. Not for that."
He curses, turning his face away from yours with a small chuckle of disbelief. "I should be the one comforting you right now," he says and you smile softly as you respond. "No matter what you might think, I'd never hate you. Never. And I forgive you." You squeeze his hand in reassurance, trying to convey the sincerity of your words.
"I.. don't think I deserve that," he whispers, swallowing as he tries to control the shakiness in his voice. You're forgiving him this easily? He hasn't earned that, doesn’t deserve it.. You should be furious with him, you should hate him.. So why don't you? "I can't think of anyone who deserves it more than you, Chan," You say and his lip trembles, eyes squeezing shut as he tries not to embarrass himself by crying in front of you. 
He’d grown a thick skin in his life, built his walls sturdy and high, or at least he thought he had. But there you always are, tearing his barriers down so easily, prying open the confines of his heart with the simplest of words and actions. And that's the feeling of love and connection he'd been missing in his life, isn't it? The one he’d be yearning for despite all his doubts and concerns? 
All he can think about when he looks at you is how much he hopes you'll always be with him, even if it's just from afar. He wants to protect you, wants to hold you close, wants to laugh with you on good days and support you during the bad. Even if he never gets the courage to tell you just how much he truly loves you, he'd be happy just being near you. And that’s why he owes it to you to be better, reaffirms his desire, his need, to be honest and open about everything.
“I should.. Be honest with you. About why I was avoiding you,” Chan says after a shaky exhale, and you nod, ready to hear him out. “I was.. Ashamed, when you saw me like that. I never wanted you to see it, you know? I was- I still am, trying to get out of it, and I hoped that when you did know about it, it’d be like.. A thing that happened in my past that you’d never have to worry about. So when you saw it, I just.. I freaked out. I didn’t know what to do, and so I just..” 
Oh no. He’s tearing up again, and the empathetic look in your eyes doesn’t do him any favors. The way you look at him, the way you hold and squeeze his hand as he speaks, the way your eyes water with his, as if it’s just as emotional for you to experience as it is for him. It probably is, to be fair; you cared a lot about him, cried a lot because of him, tried countless times to support him, even when he was closed off, hesitant and scared to try. 
He’s still struggling to believe he deserves to receive your compassion and understanding, but he wants to accept it regardless. He wants to let you care about him, to let you console him, to let you be his comfort, his home. And he’d be that for you, he’d give you back all you gave and more, all to make sure you would never cry because of his actions ever again. 
“I just-” Chan tries again, falling short as the words get stuck in his throat. You’re patient though, giving him all the time he needs to collect his thoughts and put the words he wants to say together. “I just.. Everything felt like it was caving in on me. When it started I was just a kid desperate for money, you know? No one wants to pay a livable wage to a 16 year old, they think you don’t need it, assume you still got your parents and a cushy bed to go home to. So when the offer came up for me to make some quick, good cash in exchange for a favor, I took it.”
“The favors.. What I’d do depended entirely on the person making the request, but they were never good. Usually it was something the person desperately wanted, but didn’t have either the strength or willpower to get their own hands dirty, or couldn’t risk their public image by being associated with a criminal act, so they look for someone to do it for them under the table. So I got mine dirty in their place, and got paid well doing it. And I truly fucking regret it,” Chan spills it all out for you- the woes of his life, his bad deeds and regrets, all for you to see and judge. 
But you don’t judge him; you never would, even if he deserved it. What he said is what you expected, what you hoped to hear- that he wasn’t given a real choice, his circumstances unfair and the world before him too cruel. It hurt your heart to know someone as kind and caring as Chan was forced to do things he hated for money, things that plagued his mind with guilt and tanked his already low self-esteem to new depths.
This wasn’t a case of “ashamed only because he got caught”; his shame and guilt was true, the resentment he felt for himself complexly interwoven with his human nature to survive at all costs, a dilemma that no one should have to face, but that he was forced to time and time again. To say it was unfair felt like an understatement, but it was all you had to describe what life had offered him. 
And still, you admired him; you hear all the time how the circumstances of one’s life changes them, how good people can only tolerate so much pain before it warps them into someone unrecognizable. But through it all, he was still someone full of compassion, of tenderness, who was doing his best to make amends with himself and make up for what he’s done. It wasn’t your place to tell anyone to forgive him, but you hoped that one day Chan could be free of the shackles that weighed him down, both physically and mentally. 
The world doesn’t exist in black and white; good people do bad things, make mistakes, and hurt others, often even without meaning to. What truly makes a person good isn’t whether or not they’ve never hurt someone before- it’s whether or not they’re truly sorry. No one can exist without making mistakes, without hurting feelings and having theirs hurt in return, the human experience is far too complex and not meant to be perfected. No one is perfect, but imperfection is what allows you to grow. 
The things in your life that you regret, that make you feel embarrassed, ashamed, sorry- they make you human. They make you someone worth loving, someone deserving of compassion and empathy. To be human is to love and forgive, to make mistakes and pick yourself back up and try again to be better, to connect with others and build a life with them that makes you happy and proud to be where you are. And it’s what Chan deserves to have a chance at, just as much as anyone else in the world does. 
“You can cry if you need to. I’m here for you, Channie,” you offer, holding your arms out for him to accept a hug if he wants one. It’s a promise, really. You’ll always be here for him, because he’s the person you love most. “I might take you up on that,” he says as he accepts your hug, his tone the most light-hearted you’ve heard all evening, but you can tell he’s grateful. He squeezes you close, and you can feel his body start to release all its built up stress as he relaxes against you. 
He needed this; needed the reassurance that unconditional love is available to him and obtainable, that happiness was something he was allowed to have, that he wasn’t an irredeemable person doomed to endlessly suffer. “There’s something else I should tell you,” he says after a few moments, voice soft and a bit timid, his arms still holding you firmly. You hum in acknowledgment, pulling back from his embrace just enough to look at him. “Whenever you’re ready,” you encourage him, and he smiles just a bit before taking a breath to steady himself. 
“I love you. And I didn’t want to tell you that until everything was behind me, because I thought you wouldn’t return my feelings if you knew about it. If it was just a part of my past, and not something I was actively involved in anymore, then maybe you could, but I didn’t think you’d ever love me otherwise, so.. That’s the other reason why I freaked out.. I thought I ruined any chance I had at being with you.”
Oh. Did you hear him right? He loves you? He wanted to be with you? Wants to be with you? Romantically? “You don’t have to return my feelings, I just.. Wanted you to know, because it played a big part in why I acted like I did to you. You didn’t deserve to be ignored just because I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings, you know?” Chan elaborates, your silence making him increasingly nervous. God, he hopes you respond soon, even if it's a rejection, because the silence is killing him. 
“You didn’t ruin your chances,” you finally say, a shy smile on your face that instantly fills Chan with relief. He smiles too, and you settle fully back into his embrace, your head against his chest as your arms hold him close. You hear the thumping of his heart, the evidence that his feelings for you are indeed real- that he loves you. Maybe this happiness is more than Chan deserves, and maybe you’ll change your mind about him someday, but for now.. He’s happy, and that’s all he could ever ask for. 
-
Chan spent the rest of the evening glued to your side, the two of you only separating from each other if you had to. You canceled your study session with Changbin for the night as well; way too much happened today for you to be able to even remotely focus on school work. He understood completely though, and was more than relieved that you and Chan were talking again. 
You had dinner together, all of you, and you finally started to feel like your fractured relationships could be pieced back together. There were still lingering questions, a litany of things to still discuss together, but now that you knew you could, there was a sense of calm you felt; like no matter what happened going forward, everything would be okay because you had each other, and neither of you would let that change again. 
Even in a group, your eyes would always unconsciously find their way back to Chan, and he’d smile back at you. Not a big, toothy smile, but a small, soft one- a special one just for you. He loved you, and you felt it; and you knew without a doubt that this is where you belonged. In their group, among the kindest people you’d ever met, with Chan by your side.
When night settled in, he did everything possible to ensure you were comfortable, such as offering you another change of clothes if you wanted it, or to take you home if you’d prefer that. But honestly, you wanted to stay with Chan as long as possible, not just because of your desire to stay at his side, but because of how safe being with him always made you feel. You always felt secure in his presence, like any problem you had just melted away when he was hugging you or holding your hand. And despite the good turn the day had taken, you could definitely still use his comfort. 
“Wait,” you called to him when he was going to turn to leave, his plan the same as the other times you stayed the night; he’d be on the couch, while you took the comfort of his bed. “Did I forget something you need?” Chan asked, quickly surveying the bed; you had plenty of pillows, and you weren’t too in need of blankets given that it was summer now, but he wouldn’t put it outside the realm of possibility to forget something you needed. 
“No, it’s not that,” you say, and you can see the gears turning in his head, mild confusion mixed with concern appearing on his features. “What’s wrong then?” he asks carefully, stepping away from the door and back to you. “I.. want you to stay. Here, with me,” you mutter, shyly looking down at your lap and his face flushes as he tries to blink away the initial shock. “Like.. until you fall asleep, or..?”
“N-No,” you look at him, a bit hesitant to meet his gaze due to your nervousness but doing it anyway, “like.. Sleep with me..?” Fuck. He knows you don’t mean it like that but what the hell, you’re gonna give him a heart attack. “Are you sure? You won’t be uncomfortable?” Another careful step closer, watching you closely for any sign of hesitation, wanting to make 100% sure that you really want him next to you all night. 
You nod, scooting to make space for him so he knows you mean it. He swallows before he crawls in next to you, doing his best to settle in comfortably despite the way his body tenses from laying so close to you. What makes it even worse is that instead of laying with your back facing him like he expected, you’re turned towards him, looking straight at him. He’s never been this close to your face before, and he feels like his heart is going to erupt. 
“Don’t need Wolf Chan?” he asks after you’re settled, noting the fact that you don’t have him in your arms as you normally did when you spent the night. “Not when I have you,” you reply, and thank God he turned off the lights before he got into bed with you, because you definitely would’ve seen the blush on his face burn tenfold. “Chan..” you breathe out, your voice slightly hesitant and tense, and though the room is dark, his eyes have adjusted enough to see you looking at him nervously. 
“Yeah..?” he asks softly, and carefully you reach out to him, your hand lingering on his arm. “I want you to promise.. That you’ll keep trying to get away from the people who have you do bad things, and that you won’t do them anymore once you’re out,” you say, eyes still nervous and desperate to find reassurance. That’s exactly what he planned to keep doing anyway, but hearing you say it just reaffirms his choice- he’ll get out of it no matter what, for your sake. 
“I promise. You’ll be the first to know, I promise,” he affirms, and you finally smile, fully believing in him. “I’ll make a promise too! That once everything is settled, I’ll officially be your girlfriend.” Chan chuckles at your statement, pulling you into a hug as he does. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he tells you, smiling at you fondly as he pulls you in closer. “If it’s okay.. Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, and you nod, heart racing in anticipation.
Your first kiss- soft and sweet, his touch light and gentle, your stomach erupting in butterflies. Again, again, and once more, both smiling when you pull back. You’ve never felt so warm, pure elation in your veins as he holds you close. “I love you,” you tell him as you settle your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and basking in the joy and comfort you feel. “Love you more,” he says, landing a soft kiss on the top of your head, “Goodnight, Y/N, sweet dreams.” 
Was it okay for Chan to be this happy? Was it okay to have the things he dreamed of? Regardless of the answer, he was thankful. There were few things in this world that Chan allowed himself to crave selfishly, you being the most primary desire of them all. Did he deserve you? Maybe not now, but he would someday soon- he’d make sure of that. He’d keep his promises, make sure he became someone worth being around for, someone that you could be proud to say is the person you love.
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6 months since the day Chan told you he loved you and made you his girlfriend. Well, maybe not officially one might argue, since he still had a myriad of promises to uphold before then, but as far as Chan is concerned, it counts! And to the credit of his point, you still acted like a couple most of the time, all sweet touches and bashful glances whenever he was near you. Neither of you could help it, really; how do you resist in that scenario? All he ever wanted to do was shower you with affection any chance he got, and why would you deny the opportunity to experience it? 
Chan’s duality also extended towards your romantic relationship, in ways that endlessly endeared and fascinated you. He adapted to the boyfriend role well all things considered, or maybe his kind hearted and compassionate nature made him naturally good at caring for you. He was extremely open with his love for you, full of soft touches and charming words. That was always in private however; when around his friends he was much less.. Sauve, you could say. 
He was shy, simply put; his face and ears burning red whenever you kissed him for all to see, bashful giggles leaving his lips whenever you complimented him or told him you loved him so, so much. You always loved seeing his cute dimples show up whenever he was happy, and knowing you were the person making it happen filled you with more joy than you could express in words. 
But the biggest display of his duality would always come when he felt the need to protect you- all his shyness would melt away, his desire to keep you safe and close much stronger than anything else. Whether it was holding your hand as you walked through crowds of people, directing you away from the edge of the sidewalk when you walked together, or kept an arm snuggly around you when belligerent, overconfident men approached you at a party- he was your protector above all else, and he made that clear to everyone. 
He was perfect in every way, at least to you. It’s not to say that he was suddenly without fault, and he certainly wasn’t absolved of all the wrong he’d committed in his past, but his growth and earnest effort didn’t deserve to go unrecognized. He was the sweetest, kindest person you’d ever known, and every day he showed his resilience and determination to make a better name for himself, and that made him perfect to you. 
Chan worked hard to get away from what kept him connected to the dark underside of the city, and it didn’t come without its sacrifices, but he did his best to make it work and come out of it all ready to wash his hands clean of the past. He made substantially less money for one, but a fair exchange when you consider that the money he made now was through honest means. He agreed to share the burden as well, to accept help and not take on so much responsibility all on his own. 
He was used to taking the brunt of everything, shouldering it all for the sake of everyone else around him. He thought that's what made him useful, what made others want to be around him- what use did he have as a person if he wasn’t providing something for them? Chan was a pillar, one who didn’t want to acknowledge that his foundation was inherently broken and not built on solid enough ground. 
Slowly but surely however, he began to see his worth beyond the material, and stopped seeing his friendships as ones that could easily be stripped away from him by superficial means. It’s not that he thought the people in his life were shallow either, it’s just.. When your self-esteem is so low, and all you’ve ever known is pain and sadness, where the people that were supposed to care for you were either gone or didn’t give a shit, it’s hard to see yourself in the same lens that the people who love you do.
It’s nearly impossible to shake doubt once it has its grip on you, hard to convince yourself people mean it when they say they care when you’ve only ever experienced the opposite. You can’t explain what it’s like to have a brain at war with itself, and he imagines that the only ones who would ever truly understand are the people like him, who have experienced it for themselves and truly know what it means to be lonely. 
But he had come to realize that he wasn’t as alone as he felt; he had countless good people in his life, and all he had to do was open the door and let them in. It wasn’t easy to unlearn all the things Chan had told himself over the years, and there were still many days where he struggled with his self-worth and having compassion for himself, but the people he loved made it worth trying his hardest. 
And you, the person Chan loved most of all, was the catalyst for the change he needed. You pushed him in the right direction, opened his eyes to all the feelings and wants he tried to push away and made him face them head on. He was endlessly grateful to you, and he wanted to show you just how much; which is why now, on your 6 month anniversary (which was actually more like 3, officially speaking), he wanted to do something special. 
But what should he get you? What would be good enough? He knew you’d appreciate the sentiment of his gift more than the price tag of it, but he still felt stuck when considering what would be best for you. He could take you out on a date, but what he really wants is the chance to be alone with you. As much as he loves his brothers, and loves that you’re all friends and get along well, but if they interrupted or crashed his alone time with you one more time he might burst a blood vessel. 
Theoretically he could do some research and find somewhere for the two of you to be one on one, but his career change didn’t leave him with much of a travel fund (or a gift fund, for that matter.) He could always ask the guys to make themselves vacant for a night, or to just please let him have some alone time with his girlfriend, but God, he could already picture how they’d tease him for asking. Or worse, ask him what his intentions are and make him embarrassed in the process. 
In the end however, Chan swallowed his pride, and asked his brothers kindly but firmly to let him have the house to himself so he could spend his 6 month anniversary alone with you. He did get some teasing and embarrassing questions, but overall not as bad as what he anticipated, thankfully. Did he want to have sex with you? Yes, obviously. Was that the reason he was doing this? Absolutely not. 
That’s not to say he wouldn’t welcome it if it happened of course, but it was in no way his sole motivation. He hadn’t done that with you yet, and though he wanted to, he was in no way going to rush you into it. Sure, it drove him a little crazy every time you stayed the night and he had you pressed up against him, but he was a gentleman above all else. He had self control.
What he didn’t know though, is that you were also being driven a little crazy by him. The first time he called you “baby”, your stomach did full on somersaults, and if he called you that before he kissed you? Your heart went absolutely crazy! Then, the first time he removed his shirt to sleep you nearly had a heart attack. You’re guessing he usually slept that way but kept a shirt on when you were spending the night, but now that you were a couple, he didn’t have to. 
He was so toned, and well, you figured he was from how strong he appeared to be, but actually seeing it with your own eyes made your heart race unbelievably fast. And then, one night when you were lying in his bed together, your back pressed against him as you watched a movie on his laptop, and he leaned forward to kiss you, but the kiss landed on your neck- it was over for you. 
You bit your lip to stop yourself from making an embarrassing sound, face flushing and growing hot. And lately, you came to realize more and more how bad you wanted Chan more intimately. Every time his hand lingered on your waist, every time you felt his body pressed to yours when you hugged, every time you were laying together and he had his arm wrapped around you- you wanted him. 
But how do you go about admitting that? You’d never done this sort of thing before, nor had you been faced with such a strong desire to be intimate with someone before being with Chan. But now, that it was your 6-more-like-3 month anniversary, you thought maybe now might be the right time to talk about it. It might be difficult to do so without getting shy or embarrassed but you definitely wanted to, and to find out if he ever thought about you in the same way.
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Much to Chan’s delight and relief, you didn’t seem at all upset that his plans with you involved having a date at home. His gift to you was a cute, new wolf plush, that while certainly was no Wolf Chan, he hoped would comfort you when you weren’t with him. You loved it, instantly hugging him and promising that you’d sleep with Wolf Chan Jr. (as you promptly named it) every night that you weren’t with Chan. 
He put on a movie that you’d once said was a favorite of yours but that he had never seen, and it warmed your heart that he remembered and wanted to watch it with you. He ordered your favorite take out meal, spent the entire evening cuddled close to you and sweetly reminding you how much he loved you. When night settled in and you began to grow tired, you changed into your pajamas separately before you went to his room.
“Chan.. can I ask you something?” He sat up a bit upon hearing you, finding your eyes in the darkness to give you his full attention. “Of course, what is it?” He asks and you swallow, taking a moment to steady your voice before you come right out with it. “Do you ever.. think about having sex with me?” Holy fuck. That is the last thing he was expecting to hear. “W-What? I-I-, well-” he sputters nervously, his face growing hot within seconds. “I-I just.. I have so.. I thought I’d ask..?” You mutter shyly, hoping you won’t be faced with a mortifying rejection. 
Oh no. That admission makes his brain short circuit for a moment, mind reeling as he processes what you’ve just said. You’ve thought about it? With him? You want to… with him? “O-Of course I have, I just didn’t know if you wanted to, a-and I didn’t want you to feel pressured if I instigated so..” he trails off, hoping that he didn’t unintentionally make you feel undesired by holding off on touching you more intimately. 
Relief rushes through you, happy to be reminded what a gentleman your boyfriend is and to know that he wants you too. “I-In that case.. do you want to tonight?” you ask, and you feel him suck in a breath before he answers. “Yeah, I want to,” he says, shy but honest as he seeks out your hand, “as long as you’re sure you’re ready.” “I’m sure, I really want to,” you tell him, squeezing his hand and offering him a smile. 
Chan gets up from the bed to turn on some dim mood lighting, because he definitely doesn’t want his first time with you to be in complete darkness- he needs to see you. You sit up, watching him in nervous excitement before he sits next to you. “I’ll.. I’ll take care of you so.. Just let me know if I’m going too fast or you need to stop, okay?” he asks and you assure him that the minute you feel even slightly uncomfortable, you’ll let him know. He smiles, a shy and cute one, guiding you to turn so both of your bodies are facing each other before he lets you know, “I’m going to kiss you now.” 
His hand rests just below your ear, fingers on your neck and his thumb tracing circles on your cheek as he leans in to kiss you. The kiss is slow- much slower than all the others you’ve shared with him until now. It’s.. sensual, each kiss soft and languid, pulling away for only a second before he connects his lips with yours again. You can feel the butterflies flutter in your stomach as he deepens the kiss, his other hand carefully landing on your waist. 
Your hands sit awkwardly in your lap at first, not quite sure what you should do with them and what’s okay, but to your surprise, the more Chan kisses you, the more you find yourself naturally following his lead, as if this isn’t something entirely new to you. He tilts you back, carefully guiding your back to the bed, his body finding its place between your legs. 
You bring your arms around his neck, urging him to press his body closer to yours and leave no free space between you. You want him as close as possible, to feel his weight on you, to be enveloped by him and feel him all over. You’re so responsive to his touch that it drives Chan crazy with want; the way your body shivers when he runs his hand down your waist to your hip, the way goosebumps rises on your skin when his fingers linger near your waistband, the way your mouth opens for him when he licks your bottom lip- he loves it all. 
A soft sound escapes your throat when he lets his tongue in your mouth, your arms moving from around his neck to let your hands explore his body, running down his chest and feeling his abs under your fingertips. Feeling his tongue circle around yours, his breath being shared with you and yours with him, it’s enough to make you dizzy already; you’ve never felt a desire like this before, this overwhelming want to have his hands explore every inch of your skin. 
When he pulls away from the kiss, wow, he’s breathless just from the sight of you. Your lips red and glossy, your eyes hazy with need, your hair having fallen around you like a halo; his angel- you’re forever his angel. Chan caresses your lip with his thumb, wanting to stare at you for just a moment longer before he diverts his attention elsewhere. He smiles when you kiss his thumb, finding the action cute (and hot if he’s being honest, but he’ll explore that thought later.)
He lowers his head back down to you, giving you one more kiss before he leans towards your neck, kissing just under your ear before trailing hot, open mouthed kisses slowly down the expanse of your jaw and to your neck. Some of them tickle, making you giggle softly in response, but he knows he’s found the right spot when instead of giggling, you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you tilt your head to the side, allowing him to have more access to your sweet spot. 
You can feel him smile against your skin before he resumes his wet kisses and licks, latching his mouth to the spot that makes you react the most and sucking gently. The noises that leave you are intoxicating and addictive, soft breathy little moans that almost get completely drowned out by the sound his kisses leave on your dampening skin. His hands travel to the hem of your shirt, and he separates from your neck, looking at you for any sign that you want him to stop before he begins to pull it up. 
You look shy, maybe a little nervous, but not at all hesitant or scared of his touch. You welcome it, letting him strip you of your top and toss it to the floor. You’re not wearing a bra, you never do when you go to bed, and while Chan suspected that to be the case, he never asked or commented on it, because admitting that he noticed a difference would also mean admitting that he’d look at your chest. But now, he'll be able to do so freely, to stare at you openly (and hopefully not be too embarrassed about it.)
The way he stares in awe of you makes you blush, and when he calls you beautiful on top of it, you almost want to cover your face from how shy you feel. He can’t compliment you while you’re exposed to him like this, you don’t think your heart can take it. Your reaction makes him smile, but he hopes you know that he means it; Chan isn’t saying you're beautiful just to say it, you truly are- the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both body and soul. 
“Is this okay?” he asks, hands lingering patiently near your breasts, not wanting to touch them until you give him clearly spoken permission. You nod, but he still hesitates until you say it, which you simultaneously appreciate but feel extremely embarrassed from. Chan rewards you with a kiss, another long one meant to ease away the embarrassment and put your focus entirely on enjoying the moment. 
Your breath hitches when he finally touches your breasts, your body quivering when his calloused thumbs brush over your nipples. He lingers on every kiss so sweetly, every touch of your body slow and careful, not just for your comfort but also to commit it to memory, to ensure that he always remembers what his first time with you was like. He kisses down your neck again, and you watch with bated breath as he draws closer to your chest. 
Chan takes his time fondling your breasts as he covers them in kisses, squeezing gently and listening intently to all the sounds he draws from you. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and spending some time softly sucking before giving the other an equal amount of attention. The more attention he showers your breasts with, the wetter you become, your panties becoming increasingly drenched with your arousal. 
If he wasn’t between your legs, you’d be pressing them together in a desperate attempt to gain some relief, your pussy aching to be touched but at the same time wanting to let Chan take his time making you feel good. He doesn’t separate from your chest until he’s satisfied, starting to trail kisses down your stomach, stopping to look up at you once he’s at the waistband of your shorts. “Still okay?” he asks and you nod (perhaps a bit too eagerly), lifting your hips up so he can easily pull your clothes down your legs. 
He hooks his fingers into your shorts and panties, hands slightly trembling as he pulls them down your thighs and then off your legs, discarding them off to the floor with your top. Now that he sees you fully exposed to him, Chan feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest, his cock unceremoniously twitching as he stares at your body. You can see how hard it’s grown from beneath his sweatpants, and God, you can already tell it’s big. 
You sit up, this time being the one to initiate a kiss as you tug at Chan’s sweatpants, not so subtly asking him to help you take them off. It’s his turn to feel shy, face starting to burn to the tips of his ears as he separates from you to remove them more easily. The way you attentively watch him certainly doesn’t help, nor the way you overtly stare at his cock when it’s freed from his clothing. 
You look back to his face, and though he’s feeling shy, he offers you a smile, one that you return just as timidly. Another kiss before you lay back again, your heart racing as you watch him resume his earlier path, placing kisses to the soft expanse of your skin. From your cute tummy down to your thighs, it’s driving you crazy how close his face has gotten to your core without having given it any attention yet. 
He carefully spreads your legs further apart, swallowing when your pussy comes entirely into his view. So cute and dripping wet, all for him, because of him- God, you’re perfect. As he’s done with every inch of your body up to this point, his first course of action is to kiss. Your hips jolt when he kisses your clit, and when he flattens his tongue and licks, oh, you’re in heaven. 
You’ve never felt anything as good as this, your entire body shuddering as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. The slow pace he starts with drives you wild, taking his time familiarizing himself with the way you taste, the motions you like, and indulging in the pretty sound of your whimpers and moans. Chan picks up the pace exponentially, alternating from pushing his tongue as deep into your hole as it can go and then back to your clit.
He uses his hands to keep your legs spread, can feel the way they tremble and twitch as your orgasm grows closer. Your hands clutch at his bedsheet, desperate mewls growing in volume as the knot in your stomach builds. He diverts all of his attention to your clit, keeping his pace steady as he squeezes your thighs in his hands, his eyes closed as he focuses entirely on getting you to cum all over his tongue. 
He can’t help but groan when your hands move to his head, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging just enough to cause a slight sting. “C-Close, so close-” you warn and he hums, ready and eager to taste your release. You cum with a choked cry, your entire body trembling as the blinding white pleasure courses through your veins. Your heart pounds, chest heaving as you try to collect your breath, mind hazy from your post-orgasm bliss. 
You don’t even register that Chan has moved from his spot between your legs until he kisses you, tasting yourself on his tongue bringing you back to reality. Seeing you like this not only fills Chan with an insane amount of want, but also with pride, knowing that he’s the reason you’re in this state. “Baby,” he calls to you, urging you to look at him. His face flushes when you do, cause fuck, you’re so pretty like this, but no use getting shy again now.
“I– I want to get you ready to take me, i-is that okay?” Chan hates that he stutters a bit while asking, but he can’t help it when he’s this worked up and you’re laying there looking pretty beyond words. “Y-Yeah, please,” you practically beg, and fuck, he’s weak for that. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to resist giving you whatever you want if you make begging like that a habit of yours. 
He carefully moves from between your legs to be next to you, kissing you sweetly as he rubs his fingers between your folds. You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and leaking, his pre-cum smearing on the skin it touches. “C-Channie-” you call and he immediately comes to stop, looking at you in concern. “What’s wrong, angel? Change your mind?” he asks, brows furrowing in worry. 
You quickly shake your head, trying to dispel any concern before you speak up again, “I want- Can I touch you too?” You can feel his cock twitch from your question, his face flaring and ears burning. “Y-Yeah, of course,” he says, adjusting his position enough for his cock to be within reach of your hand. He can’t help but shudder and gasp when you bring your fingers to his flushed tip, coating your fingers in pre-cum and spreading it down the length of his shaft. 
Your hand is so much softer than his, so warm, and fingers barely able to wrap fully around due to how thick he is. He can’t help but get lost in watching for a moment, eyes transfixed on the way your hand slowly moves up and down. You look at Chan, watching the way his expression changes as he bites his lip- how does he look so gorgeous and sexy at once? 
Regaining his focus, he prods at your hole with his fingers before he slips the middle one inside. God, you’re so warm and wet and tight, that the thought alone of being inside you is enough to make Chan want to cum. He can’t wait to fuck you, to feel you squeezing him and to find out what noises you’ll make when his cock is touching the deepest parts of you. 
But first, he needs to prep you well- so he starts by moving his finger in and out slowly and carefully until he’s sure you can take another. You whimper when he adds a second finger, your motions on his cock stopping for just a moment as you adjust to the new sensation you’re feeling. His fingers are much longer and thicker than your own, and it sends ripples of pleasure throughout your body with every move they make. 
You match the pace of your hand with that of his fingers, mirroring the slow movements, but adding pressure by squeezing your hand around him. When he picks up his pace, you do as well, and your stomach flips when he curses under his breath and groans. You’re mesmerized when his head falls back for a moment, his breathing becoming heavier and his stomach and thighs flexing from the pleasure he feels. But when his fingers curl, your concentration breaks, the spot he touches making you see stars as loud a moan falls from your lips. 
It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, head falling back against the pillows and your eyes rolling back as he prods it over and over again. Your pace on his cock loses its rhythm, trying your best to keep steady through the immense pleasure you feel but failing at the task miserably. Chan doesn’t mind in the slightest- in fact, he welcomes it, because he doesn’t want to cum before he's had the chance to be inside you.
He brings his thumb to your clit, applying pressure as he draws circles over it, and that’s enough to make you entirely crumble. “Oh my god-” you gasp, your hand falling away from his cock as you succumb to what he gives you. You’re cumming before you can even really process it, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body trembles. He doesn’t stop until he’s sure you’ve come down from the high, carefully sliding his fingers out of you and licking them clean. 
Your eyes are closed, breath shaky as your heart pounds, and you feel so good. Chan carefully pushes the hair stuck on your face with sweat away, and you smile at him when you open your eyes. “Felt good, huh?” he asks with a shy smile of his own, “Do you still want to keep going? Not too tired?” “Wanna keep going, wanna feel you inside me,” you answer, and you can feel him twitch against your thigh again, evidently excited by your words. 
He stands from the bed to rifle through his nightstand, pulling a condom from the drawer as you settle comfortably in the middle of the bed. Chan takes his place between your legs, and you watch as he opens the package and rolls the condom on with no trouble (despite how much his hands are trembling from the anticipation.) He takes his cock in his hand, lining himself up with your entrance and then looking back to your face. 
“You’re still sure?” he asks, and you nod without hesitation. “Mhm, I love you so much Channie, wanna do this with you and only you,” you assure him, and wow, does that make him positively melt. “Such an angel,” he tells you before he kisses you, happy beyond words, “my angel.” He slides inside with relative ease given how slick you are, the only resistance he meets being from how tight you still are even after having gotten his fingers. 
He watches you the entire time, stopping when he notices you wince, and only resuming his slow push when your body starts to release its tension. Chan kisses you, holds your hand and lets you squeeze as hard you need, not moving a single inch until you’re ready for it. To your surprise, it doesn’t take all that long for you to adjust to the stretch, and soon enough you find yourself eager for stimulation. 
You don’t verbally say it, but Chan can tell you’re ready by the pleasured whimper that pours into your kiss when you feel him twitch inside, and how you unconsciously move your hips to try and seek the friction you crave. He starts slow, for his sake as much as yours, because he’ll cum much sooner than he wishes to otherwise. He’s still kissing you, swallowing your soft moans and letting you consume his low groans. It takes him a moment to find your spot with just his cock, but he can tell he’s got it when you loudly gasp and clench tightly around him. 
He moves his hands to your hips and then to your legs, holding them in his hands and using them for leverage when he starts to pick up his pace. Your hands are on his face, holding him close as you continue to kiss and muffle each other’s noises that are beginning to grow in volume. You’re glad Chan asked the guys to leave for the night, because with how good it feels you couldn’t possibly keep your voice down even if you wanted to. 
“Fuck, baby, feel so good, ‘m gonna cum,” Chan tells you between breathy groans and your stomach flips, eager to find out what he looks and sounds like when he’s cumming inside you. He brings two fingers to your clit, rubbing in quick circles to ensure you cum again too and that he doesn’t leave you wanting. You whine, sensitive from all the attention you’ve received but still feeling way too good to ask him to stop. 
“Cum again for me, please angel, need you to so bad, please-” Oh, that really does it for you. You cum hard, making a mess of his fingers as you do, clutching tightly to his arms as your head falls back. Chan’s high follows close behind, his thrusts turning sloppy as he chases it, his cum spurting into the condom in quick bursts. The two of you stay like that for a time, breathing heavily as you come down from your highs together. 
Chan pulls out slowly once he’s caught his breath, quickly removing the condom and trying it off, disposing of it in the trash can at the foot of his bed before he lays down next to you. You immediately turn towards him, wrapping your arm around him and pulling him into a hug. “We should get cleaned up but.. Wanna cuddle first,” you say and Chan smiles, always finding it so cute when you’re clingy towards him, and even more so now after an intimate moment. 
He rubs soothing circles on your back and kisses the top of your head, watching you fondly as you yawn and snuggle as close to him as you can. “Baby, you’re gonna fall asleep if we stay like this too long. Let’s get you cleaned up before you get too cozy, yeah?” Chan reasons and you pout, knowing he’s right but not wanting to leave the comfortable, blissful place you’re in. He chuckles when you look at him with that pout, so adorable and cute in his eyes. 
“C’mon, won’t take long. And we’ll go straight to bed as soon as we’re done, promise,” he tries again and you reluctantly agree, begrudgingly tearing yourself away from your boyfriend's warm embrace. Your legs are a bit wobbly after your endeavors so Chan helps you stabilize yourself, walks you to the bathroom and helps you in the shower, takes his time to dry you off well and get you dressed in fresh clothes, and helps you back into bed.
You yawn and snuggle into Chan as soon he’s settled next to you, eyes heavy and body beyond exhausted. You’re a little sore, but so happy, and Chan took such good care of you that you feel relaxed despite it. He holds you close, whispering a soft ‘I love you’, smiling when you sleepily mumble it back. He’s so lucky to have you, so blessed to have you here in his arms, loving him in both his good moments and his bad, never giving up on him even when you likely should have. 
You saw how flawed of a person he was and loved him regardless, knew of his mistakes and regrets and supported him anyway, encouraging him every step of the way on his road to change. There were so many times he felt he didn’t deserve the love and compassion he received, so many times he felt worthless and miserable, and you graciously helped him to see that he was a person worth more than he gave himself credit for. 
It was still hard at times to have love and compassion for himself, to extend himself the care he freely offered to others, to believe it’s what he deserved, but he’d never stop trying. Until the day came where he could confidently say he loves himself, that he believes in his heart that he’s not someone worthless, he’ll keep trying. And you’ll be there, holding his hand, giving him the safe space he needs to cry and to feel, your unconditional love giving him the reassurance and hope he needs to live a life he can be proud of- a life he promises to always share with you.
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sprout-fics · 6 months
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Engravings (Chapter One)
(Makarov x F! Reader)
Engravings Masterlist
Word Count: 4.2k Rating: Mature Tags: Brainwashing, Emotional Manipulation, Kidnapping, False Romance, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Injury/Blood, Whump, Stockholm Syndrome, Winter Soldier AU, No Fluff, Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Mind the tags (Read on Ao3)
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“How do you think you’ll die?”
His fingers still as they trace your bare spine.
It’s silent in the solitude of his apartment, one of many he moves between to keep safe. This is one of the nicer ones. Furnished with silk sheets, the interior is immaculately clean. Wide windows overlook St. Petersburg below, a sight you never see with towering curtains blocking the view. Carefully curated art hangs from the walls, an abstract painting flecked with gold above his bed. You see shapes in it, think you see something akin to a lynx staring back at you. There’s never anything on the counters, no mess that would indicate someone lives here. It feels too pristine, almost artificial.
Hazy, bluish light drowns both of you as you both sprawl in bed. You like it when he makes love to you here. The large space makes you feel so alone, so much closer to him, like you have him all to yourself. Greedy, you drink in his scent, claw at his back, listen to his breath stutter as he rolls his hips into you.
Makarov is silent as you tuck into his side, shift and tangle your legs a little closer to his. You can’t see his face, but you know the look in his eyes. Precise, calculating, almost detached. His silence is indicative of his answer before he even speaks it.
“With glory.” He responds, fingers resuming their lazy path. “For Russia.”
You nod without any response. You’re not sure what you expected, but it should have been that. Makarov is a soldier, just like you are. A warrior, one who will kill, die for his ideals. As much as you long after him, as much as he loves you in return, you know his death will be exactly as he says. Not gently, not beside you in old age, sighing softly into your arms with his last breath, a lifetime of joy he left behind. His mere existence speaks of violence and retribution, a danger you yourself are caught in as an inescapable tide.
You don’t remember a time before Makarov.
There’s glimpses, yes, whispers of a time before he found you, but they’re distant echoes drowned by the sound of his voice. He says you were a soldier, and you know this much is true. He says he found you dying, on the brink of death. He scooped you from the ashes, rescued you from the embrace of the grim reaper and brought you here. Home. Your earliest memory of him is when he sat in the hospital chair, looked upon you with curious, sad eyes and asked you your name.
You didn’t know.
Marionette, your callsign. A name he bestowed upon you, the one who holds the strings. You’re his blade, his weapon, the arrow in his bow. You fly in the direction of his enemies, cut them down with lethal precision, feel their heartbeats stutter and still in your hands. You’re used to the scent of blood by now, arrive back to him awash in red and let him kiss it from your lips, the taste of your murder on his tongue.
You know what the others say about you. You see them as they watch you walk with him, two steps back, by his right shoulder. A designated position. If someday he were to be betrayed, shot through his spine, you know the bullet would enter you first.
You know too that you’ve accepted this.
Marionette. The puppet, the other soldiers say. Beautiful, poised, but empty. He holds you in his palms and you go willingly, holding onto every scrap of warmth he offers like it will fill the hollow inside you. The others, they’re scared of your devotion to him, the way you’d be ready to die if he asked. Yet there’s something else there too, glimpses of desire for a thing they’ll never touch. A longing to feel your skin, to see the glimmer behind your gaze. Those who look too long disappear, and you know without having to ask that it was through his hands.
You’re his, after all.
In private he calls you милая, дорогая, любимая. Honey, darling, beloved. He cups your face in his hands and presses gentle kisses to your forehead, presses you into the sheets with endless praises of your violence. He treats you like he loves you, even though he never says it. You think perhaps it’s taboo for people like you, speaking of blessings only to have them stolen as soon as you confess. He gathers you to him when he sleeps, presses your bare form to his. You stay awake just to hear the sound of his even, steady breaths, watch how his face doesn’t soften even in sleep.
In the morning he’s gone before you rise. You tiptoe to the living room, see him standing at a crack in the curtains, awash in the hazy dawn. When you wrap your arms around his bare torso, he kisses your knuckles but says nothing. Eyes distant.
Loving Makarov is hard.
He always seems not completely there with you, eyes gazing into a distant future you cannot see. You’re stuck in the present, helplessly watching him discern the spinning axis of the earth, blinking as you see constellations sparkle in his gaze. Copernicus, he watches the stars rotate with him at the axis, tracing across their glimmering brightness like he’s drawing prophecies from the heavens. All for once was a far-fetched dream of Russia, one that becomes closer with every death in your grasp.
You don’t do it for his vision. You do it for him, and there’s some days where you wonder if you could ever stop.
“Come back to bed.” You whisper against the flesh of his shoulder, and he holds your hand to his chest where you feel his pulsing heartbeat.
“There are things to be done.” He murmurs instead. He’s silent for a while, as if waiting for you to protest. You never do.
“Dress. Eat.” He tells you in Russian, as he turns to hold your face in his hands. “I have somewhere to send you.”
That’s how you end up in Prague.
Trailing an informant, one of his own. He’s a twitchy sort, constantly looking over his shoulder in a way that means he knows he’s being followed. Your mission is not to kill him, not yet. First you must see who he meets, which enemy he speaks to, and then bury them both.
December. Snow dusts the streets. You’ve long since become accustomed to the winters in this part of the world, the way the sun hides during this part of the year. You’re bundled in a stylish coat and matching scarf- his choosing. It brings him a certain pleasure, somehow, to choose how you dress. You find you don’t mind, leaning up to his words of endearment with every fine thread he drapes you in.
It’s a shame the coat will get stained. You find he doesn’t mind that either, as if he prefers the color red on you.
You sip on coffee in a chair of the cafe, wishing instead for hot chocolate. The bitterness is familiar, even as the temptation of sweetness lingers in your senses. You hide your face between sips, pulling up the mask that covers the lower half of your face. The informant sits in a corner booth alone, leg bouncing. Sloppy. Obvious. You watch him with cat-like eyes, blinking slowly, wondering if he’ll beg when you kill him. The man that meets him is calmer, dark haired, clearly English. His mere presence seems to soothe the other man, and you watch as they discuss things in hushed detail, the informant sliding a USB across the table where their drinks sit untouched.
The Englishman leaves first, gives a small farewell and shrugs on his coat, neatly slipping the traitorous item in his pocket. You wait a minute until after he leaves, watching your fidgety comrade count on his watch by instruction until he too is supposed to depart. You’ll be back for him later. You know where to find him.
You trail the Englishman into the overcast afternoon, following his dark coat until the street is empty. Yet as you close the distance between you and the spy, a figure rounds the corner just in front of him. Your awareness roars to life a moment too late, and even though you stab your knife forward the man before you counters it easily. His movements are experienced, practiced, and strong. They counter your quick, precise agility in a flurry of movement, before at last you’re forced into the shadow of a building, his broad form crowding you from behind.
“Where is he?” The man breathes in your nape. Cigar smoke, musk, the grip on your wrists speaking of a soldier’s strength. You don’t need to ask who. You already know. You know you’ll die before you tell him.
“Minsk.” You lie easily, and the grip on your hands tightens.
“Try again.” He growls.
“You’ll never find him.” You offer instead, voice easy, almost detached. It makes him pause for some reason, and you wonder if that alone has startled him.
You don’t expect him to flip you around, press his forearm to your throat and rip down your mask.
You see him for the first time then. He’s worn in the way warriors are, years of duty etched onto his face. Thick brows, a beard, eyes that you think in another lifetime could have been kind. He stares at you with open astonishment, a bewildered shock that fades to a strange grief you can’t understand.
“You’re alive.” He whispers.
You blink at him, and for the first time feel your expression change to that of confusion. He seems to recognize you. You’ve never seen him once in your entire life.
He whispers a name, one you don’t know. Yet the voice he speaks it in is that of despair, a realization that seems to eclipse the fabric of his soul.
“What has he done to you?”
Panic flares inside you, and suddenly your entire being is consumed in the instinct to run, run, run. The man holding you captive radiates a danger far beyond that of duty, a fear that roots inside you and cracks at the foundation of your composure. You throw a leg up between you, and in his attempt to dodge his grip loosens on you. You duck under him, seize the knife that had been wrestled from your grip. A slash on his leg brings him to a knee. You dart a distance away from him, shaking, looking back with wild eyes. Red drips from your blade.
You should kill him. You’re not sure you can if you try.
You run.
When you find the informant, let his blood pool over his fingers, you see your own fear mirrored in his eyes.
The Englishman gets away. It’s an unacceptable failure, and when you send an encrypted message to Makarov he is silent for some time before he responds.
Report back.
He’s displeased to say the least when you arrive, mouth pressed into a scowl, brow drawn tight. You try to stand tall, refusing to show just how shaken you are by the whole ordeal. You know better than to show him weakness. Yet the man’s words from before haunt you, repeating in a ceaseless echo that sends the world under you spinning violently.
Makarov paces away from you, but at the mention of the stranger he snaps to look at you, blinking in something akin to shock. It flashes over his features for only a moment before he stills back into his stony passiveness, and then it darkens into something that makes your stomach sit heavy, making you nearly take a step back at the glint that warns of danger.
He strides over to you, and this time you do falter. You’ve seen Makarov angry before, but it was always with his subordinates, the men who show fear, hesitation, those who don’t follow orders. You’ve seen him shoot a man dead for daring to question him, and as he stood over the man’s oozing corpse he had murmured that Russia’s future did not include traitors.
Yet this- as he crosses the room with surprising speed, as you reel backwards out of pure instinct, as he captures your jaw and presses you to the wall so the lynx painting rattles- is different.
“His name.” He growls, teeth bared, jaw clenched, and he doesn’t notice the way your hand encloses his wrist in a pleading grasp. “What was his name?”
“I-I don’t know.” You manage in hardly a whisper. “I swear.”
He holds you for moments longer, stares into your eyes and waits for your gaze to falter with dishonesty. Your heart beats at an aleatory rhythm in your chest, a tremble starting in your hands and spreading along the sinews of your body. Yet as Makarov waits for you to stumble, to confess something you don’t have, you stare into his eyes.
and you see fear.
The ground cracks under you like splintering ice. A flare of panic takes a frigid hold of your veins. Makarov is not afraid. He is not fearful. He isn’t scared of death, of defeat. He throws himself in the jaws of lions and peels their teeth to use as daggers. He does not waver, he remains steadfast, unmovable. So this...this....
He releases you, and it takes all your strength to not gasp in relief, practically sagging against the wall as he turns. There’s a coiled tension to his shoulders, his fists clenching and then releasing before he turns back to you, eyes almost gentle.
“I’m sorry, darling.” He murmurs, reaching forward to loop his arms around your waist. Despite the tremble in your limbs you learn eagerly into the safety of his embrace. “I shouldn’t have scared you. I just can’t imagine the thought of someone like that taking you away from me.”
He presses your cheek to his shoulder, and even though you stay there your eyes are unblinking, wide, as if seeing the first glimmer of the truth to come.
As you sleep in his arms that night, you lay awake with wide eyes still, the stranger’s words repeating endlessly in the cacophony of your mind.
“What did he do to you?”
He gives you a few days to rest but leaves you alone in the too-large apartment. You feel miniscule against the towering windows that overlook the city, and in the absence of his touch your thoughts spiral in uncertainty.
How did he know you?
You’re sent out once more, and this time you aren’t alone. It unnerves you. You’ve worked by yourself for so long that the men on either side of you on the plane feel like they crowd into your space. One of them, the younger one, is fairly talkative. You pass idle exchanges, but every time he asks something that even remotely pertains to you his older comrade hisses at him, as if they’re not allowed to know. As if the mere knowledge of you as anything other than a weapon is a sin.
The rifle in your hands is familiar, the weight grounding as you perch on a snowy rooftop, examining the ambassador’s aide just outside his home. You watch him kiss his wife, blink and feel something familiar and forbidden tug in your ribs.
The older soldier is beside you, his own sights trained on the driver. His younger comrade scans the surrounding rooftops for interference. He doesn’t flinch at the gunshot, the scream from the wife.
He does, however, collapse at the third gunshot. Not yours.
You bolt, rifle hoisted to your shoulder. The older comrade calls for his friend, and you tug him back even as he fights you. He acts as a shield when the next shot rings out, and his blood coats your arms. You duck, roll, plant yourself behind a vent cover and search for the other sniper. You find him on a taller rooftop, his sights glinting in the dawn. A shot dents the steel, and you focus your sights on its origin.
A skull mask. A reaper.
It tugs at something inside your thoughts, the same place where the stranger’s words echo. Distant, a whisper of familiarity locked behind a terrible dread. Brown eyes. The color of rust. They widen when they see you, and in his hesitation you fire a single round.
Your aim is off.
It catches him by the shoulder, and he rolls out of view. As police sirens howl, you take that moment to escape, cast a lingering glance to the neighboring rooftop and wonder why it feels as if you just saw a phantom.
You lose two men, and the deaths are acceptable. They died for the cause. Martyrs for the future that Makarov divines even as he licks the blood clean from your fingers.
It’s only then that the dreams begin.
You sleep in an empty bed. Cold, the phantom chases you through sleep. The bone white mask fades at the edges like mist. It snakes into your lungs, chokes the air and freezes your ribs. In the hollow of your chest there’s whispers of a name you don’t recognize. Yelling, screaming, hands reaching for you amidst chaos and flames. You fall through the sky, descending too quickly. Their voices are lost to the wind, and as you pull at your shoulder, the thing that unfurls above you is shot through with debris. The ground races up, up, up-
You fall, wake up on the floor, trembling, chest heaving, trying to remember where you are. Who you are.
The voices chase you on your next assignment, pulse in tandem with the heartbeat that fades under your fingertips. You try to blot them out, try to replace them with the sound of his voice, and in the midnight darkness they return, howling like the gale. Faces you don’t recognize, hands, touches, laughter.
“You were talking in your sleep.” Makarov tells you when he rouses you in the darkness of a safehouse. Your bruised ribs from your last mission heal under bandages, and as he soothes a hand over them you wince but don’t protest. “Were you dreaming?”
Yes. You think, and open your mouth to tell him, confess the chaos of your nightmares. Yet something howls in the gale inside you, screams in a soundless cry that stifles the air in your chest, sends your voice into wordless silence.
“I don’t know.” You whisper, and it’s the first lie you’ve ever told him.
After that, you only dream when you’re alone.
Never alone on missions, not again. You’re constantly accompanied, flanked, and you have the itching, uncomfortable feeling that you’re being monitored.
You try to ask why you aren’t allowed to go alone and see the way the smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he holds you close.
“To keep you safe, дорогая.” He coos, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. “How could I ever lose you?”
You accept this, but the hollow of doubt inside you wonders that, if that were true, why he would risk you at all. Hardly a week goes by without another injury, another bruise from a target, a mission, an enemy he throws you at and you carve into fatal stillness. It feels in some ways like he’s punishing you, forcing you to bear the cost of his love. Yet he presses kisses to your cuts, the blossoming yellow and purple across your skin, sighs endearments and swallows your whimpers with the slant of his mouth against yours.
Yet you fall into him, your only source of comfort, your beacon. You’re lost without him, a marionette with no master. You don’t whisper the sin of your loved confession even as it tightens in your chest, knowing he can never say it back lest it summon destruction. Taboo, forbidden, just like the doubts you refuse to share with him. You cling to him instead, listen to his heartbeat and try to synchronize it with your own.
“You’re shaking.” He whispers as you shiver in his arms following something akin to lovemaking. “Are you scared?”
“No.” You tell him, another lie. It’s not of him, never him. Not yet.
Your dreams are the thing that terrify you, and you fear them because you don’t understand. They paint images you struggle to discern. Falling one moment, caught in an embrace the next. Gunfire replaced by the clink of glasses and a bark of laughter. Cigar smoke envelopes you, war paint smears charcoal across your fingertips. An arm slings across your shoulder in warm familiarity, hands wrap a wound, and blue eyes turn to you in an affectionate concern. They whisper a name that bores into your marrow, takes holds like rot, and the deeper you carve to dig it out the more you begin to fracture.
Doubt, and it terrifies you. You never have to doubt Makarov. You turn to his hands as they guide you, surrender to his touch as they hone the fatal edge of your killing strike. You’re his, and his alone.
It’s in Belgrade that you begin to understand.
The details of the mission are obscure. Moving a Belarusian oligarch, a team with you. Different from your usual assignments, your carefully curated wardrobe is exchanged for plate armor, gloves, bracers. You wear it like a second skin. The weight is familiar, almost relieving. There’s not much for you to do, sitting in the back of the Humvee beside the package, watching the nighttime city fade to countryside and listening to the loud thrum of the convoy. You’re still healing from your last mission, a sprain that aches in your shoulder. You didn’t protest when he pressed it, took note of your grimace and declared you fit for duty. You must have made a face, because he’d tipped his knuckles under your chin, and had forced you to meet his gaze.
“You’ll do it for me, won’t you, Marionette?” He murmured with those dark, soft, velvet eyes, and you found yourself empty of protests.
The Belarusian oligarch grumbles the entire time, and you don’t entertain him. Yet eventually he seems to take notice of you in a different sense, eyes roaming over the dip of your waist that your gear obscures, then up to your eyes hidden by your helmet. You see it out of the corner of your eye, ignore his sly murmur and hungry gaze. He plants a hand on the thigh hidden by your canvas pants, and you resist the fatalistic urge to separate his fingers from his-
A whoosh of noise, a shout by the soldier in the front seat. Garbled, surprised Russian, and you make out the shout of GRENADE!! before the world groans and twists violently around you.
The truck lands upside down, and you kick out the window to escape, haul the unconscious oligarch out behind you, then the driver. The convoy screeches to a halt, darkness illuminated by growing flames and bright bursts of gunshots. A comrade runs to assist your stumbling stance even as you try to drag your package to another truck, and he gets three steps before he crumples to the ground. The bridge where the convoy is halted is precarious, prone to gunfire, and you can hear panicked shouts as those in the trucks behind you realize the mangled wreckage of your Humvee blocks the way.
Another grenade, and this one is close. It knocks you flat onto your back, scatters asphalt and dust over you. There’s a ringing in your ears that deafens gunshots to distant pops, and even your groan of pain sounds like it comes from under water. Your helmet has been knocked from your face, and when you tilt your head to the side you see hostiles growing closer, nearly atop you.
You stand, turn, fall again as a bullet grazes your shoulder. Yet there’s a shout then from behind you, one you stubbornly ignore as you rise once more, stagger towards the edge of the bridge.
That name again, the once that’s become familiar to you by now, the one that isn’t yours. You bend over the railing, stare at the current below, racing in the darkness. The voice calls again, and you turn, stare at the face partially obscured by his helmet. Brown eyed, a mustache, younger than your spirit feels. You’ve seen him before, and you don’t know where, like he’s appeared in a distant dream.
Hands off his weapon, he takes a step towards you, repeats the name in a cracked, desperate call. You look at him, feel fear of the unknown once more pulse between your ribs. The ringing in your ears grows louder, and you stumble backwards in uncertainty. He reaches for you.
“Wait-” He tries, gaze open with despair. “Please.”
“I know you.” You breathe, seeing the way the fire alights across his brown skin in amber hues. “I...”
A step back, a stumble. You pitch over the railing, into the water.
Darkness surrounds you.
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undercoverpena · 1 year
Text
yours to keep
johnny 'soap' mactavish x f!reader
wordcount: 4.6k || dedicated to @guyfieriii an: teensy smut, fluff, banter, friends-to-lovers babeh summary: You’re in a dress. Your legs are fucking out. His throat all of sudden dry, suddenly unable to focus on anything—hand grasping his glass, the ice clinging and clanging against it. Then your eyes land on him. The rest of the room faded to nothing. He can feel his cheeks warm, his smile beginning to rise—all of it natural, all of it without thought.  other soap work.
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“Why’d they call ya, Squid?” “‘Cause I’m tiny and can swim well.” “Seriously?” You smirked. “No. I kinda… maybe took out a room full of people with a knife. Nothing really. Just… My old Lieutenant said I must have had eight arms or something. So, Squid.” He watches as she looks down. “They tried Octo and Pus for a day, but… realised even within the military, the latter bordered on an HR complaint.” “Steamin’ Jesus.” 
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Soap remembers when the rumours swirled about you and Gaz. 
The two of you were—and are—just good friends. He knows that, believes it, even. He knows there’s nothing but innocence when Gaz’s arm is slung over your shoulders, pulling an easy laugh from you—even if you were bruised and covered in blood, dirt and whatever else. You both knew one another—the only two out of the whole 141 that did—before it was formed. 
It didn't matter how good you were, the whispers still followed. They pricked at you. Soap remembers how you’d dip your head when you passed certain tables in the mess. How you only walked a little taller if you were with him, Ghost or Gaz. 
Now, the rumours were about you and him. 
The two of you having shifted and changed. One minute work colleagues, and then two people who’d needed the other for body heat. He hadn’t meant for the jokes to flow when the only thing that separated the two of you was underwear. But, your eyes had been shimmering, surrounded by snow tinting your lashes. Your beauty was apparent to him before, but harder to ignore when he looked down at you close to him. 
“You d’this with all the boys, lass?”  “No. Just ones from Scotland, it seems.” 
Truthfully, he’d thought you were stunning the moment he first saw you. But, there’s something about seeing the specks in someone’s eyes that makes things feel more intense. Been given the rare chance to study each angle of your cheeks, nose and brows—the way your lips curl when he makes a joke you clearly don’t want to laugh at. Letting him commit you all to memory, in case he never got a moment quite like it again.
Then evac rescued you both, and he half-expected things to go back to how they were. 
But they didn’t. 
The two of you remaining close, flirtatious banter flowing even in a room full of people. He thought you’d be less bothered, but you were more riled by the rumours. Especially at the beginning—when they first began—making your head dip, fists clenching and your eyes struggle to meet his. 
Now, he’s sure you lean into them, practically desperate for someone to dare egg you on so you can tell them he blows your back out. 
Not that he’s had the chance. But, fuck, would he. 
He’d do more than that given half a chance. Not just because you’re beautiful, not just because you make him laugh—but because you make his whole fucking heart soar. You make him better without doing anything, easily able to pull the good parts of him out. 
It had all been gradual, having crept up on him. The way you’ve embedded yourself into his thoughts. 
At first, it was in admiration at your hand-to-hand, the way you use your smaller frame to bend and twist. Then it was because you let your hair down, your head bent back, and your neck all exposed. The dark and dingy inn is full of weightless laughter and thudding music in some country far from home. Gaz pouring a clear bottle directly into your mouth. The way your eyes hit the light and how big your smile was when you stood straight, doing something instantly to him. Making him almost cross the short distance and wipe the vodka from your chin and lips with his tongue. 
Before, you were just Squid. 
Now, you’re more than that. 
You’re paradise and perfect days—and a messy bunch of emotions and snark he hates being away from.
Has been since you let him call you a nickname he’d only ever heard Gaz use and Gaz alone. He’d tried it, tested it, rolled it around on his tongue before he even said it to you. Almost having said it at the inn, when your eyes were glazed and your tongue loose. But, he’d waited—wanting you alone, all to himself so he could watch your reaction. 
See if he’d earnt calling it you. 
“Mari.”
“You know that's not my name, right?”
Your face having turned, the slyest smirk on your face. 
And he had hoped you don’t know he’s been working up to saying it. Almost getting lost in the odd twinkle of your eyes.
He knows, down the path of whatever the two of you become—if anything—this would be the moment he realised he liked you, liked you. That he imagined, for a brief fucking moment, that there could be a future. 
“Oh? Aye? Heard Gaz call it y’… just assumed.”
Shrugging, you stabbed your food again, a soft laugh escaping the air, blessing the space between them. “No, no, no. But it’s okay, you can call it me too. I mean, we did share some floorboards and a ratty blanket, the least I can do to thank you for keeping me warm.” 
He can’t even remember what he wanted to ask. The image of you against him—slightly shivering, eyes staring into his as your hand clutched his back—at the forefront. 
Everything else had vanished, stolen from his mind. Plucked by your beautiful eyes and brain-wiping smile. 
“What is your name?” 
“You know that’s classified, Johnny.”
“You know mine.” 
You had shrugged again, smirking. “If you keep letting me steal your fries, I might let you know.” 
He pushed the rest of his plate towards you, “Y’got it, lass.” 
“Why you want it so bad?” 
He leaned close, even if the rest of the mess hall wasn’t listening—not even paying attention. “Just be nice t’know what t’call y’when I’m fake blowin’ yur back out.” 
Your eyes met his. 
Time all of a sudden frozen. His own flicking from your eyes to the rest of your face, watching, waiting. The two of you have been towing this line so well, recently; dancing on the line of will-they-won’t-they flirtation. And sometimes, he’s not sure if he’s gone too far—if they’ve gone too far. 
So he hopes for a message. One from your face directly—cause it can never lie. 
And he sees it, a twitch of your lips, a slight narrowing of your eyes, before you steal another one of his fries, and bring it to your lips. 
“You’d learn it quicker if you actually blew my back out, Johnny-boy. I’d be like putty in your fuckin’ hands,” you had said, soft, sultry, and so low it took him a moment to realise what you’d just said. 
And then, like all good moments, it broke—Lt appearing, looming over the table. 
Since then—when shit really hits the fan—he seeks you without question. Your eyes land on him, instantly knowing—as if he’s a book and you already know all of his pages. 
When it’s you, he knows from the way your shoulders are sunk, the clear need to be held being written into each muscle. Mostly, it’s the dullness sitting in your eyes. Usually, they sparkle. Not quite a disco ball, but something close to it. When they shine bright, they make the darker days easier and the good days that bit better.   
He won’t admit it to anyone, but he loves having your head on his chest. For a moment able to dream—think—of a time when you’d be here for reasons not so sad. That you’d be here because it’s the two of you, against it all. 
Not just as friends. 
As something so much more. 
Then you leave before he wakes, the reminder it’s not quite that yet, feeling something close to a blade making tiny cuts—not enough to bleed him dry, but enough to make it sting, singe and ache. 
He really does hate the rumours—mainly because he wishes they were true.
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“If you could eat anything for breakfast, what would you choose?”  “Gotta b’ a Scottish brekkie, ain’t it?”  “Streaky bacon?”  “Aye. Not a brekkie without it.”  “I guess.” “Y’not a fan?”  “Prefer cock for breakfast, if I’m honest.” “Fuckin’ hell, Mari.” “What? You forgot for a moment you’ve been stabbed, mission accomplished.” 
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It’s rare. Unusual. 
The whole lot of you crammed in a bar, never mind some small pub in Manchester. Even more unexpected that it was booked out—a specific request for the group of you to bask in the success of the last mission. The one which had taken weeks—stole more from you all than you’d known you could give. 
It had been hard. Long. Difficult. 
So many more words he couldn’t quite think. But in all of it there were moments, tiny fragments he clutched onto. You seek him out, your face sunken and sad, burying your head into his chest as you hold onto him for what felt like hours. Him on a rooftop, staring out into the dark with Ghost, the two mindlessly talking, thinking, and planning, before he asks him where he wishes he could be. 
Now, as he sips his first drink, he replays it. Smiling to himself, because while Lt didn’t say this place, he suspects the name he whispered belonged to the person behind the bar. The one who keeps side-eyeing him, the occasional half-smile gracing their mouth. 
He takes another sip as he thinks of you. 
You who Soap had watched lose sleep. Finding you huddled over a map or screen with Gaz, low whispers, reluctance to rest. Using the few free hours of any given day to train—needing to be better. 
You didn’t ask him—or even Gaz—you’d asked Ghost. 
It ate at him. Chipped away. 
Soap blamed the lack of sleep for where his mind went. Using the same time stuffing down his jealousy over the fact you didn’t ask him. The wallowing peppered with thoughts of being inadequate, making his jaw clench, making him unravel just that bit more. 
In a way, they were all protective of you—not that any of them needed to be. But, it wasn’t something bizarre, out of character. It was something they all felt, tied together by the simple fact they’d come to care for the five-foot-something Squid. 
Even with that, he knows he feels something more. 
It’s been churning, twisting and transforming inside of him for weeks—months. His heart almost leapt from his chest when he thought you were in the building he’d watched being blown up. The compass he relies on to keep him north, disintegrating, dark shadows coming down around his eyes until he sees you emerge from smoke and flames—without your pissing helmet. 
Y’know how to scare me, lass.  Keeping you on your toes, Soapie. 
Now, he’s waiting for you. Paying attention to the hands on his watch—side-eyeing the door until it opens, blasting in cold, Gaz leading you in. 
And—
Fuck. Shit. Bollocks. 
You’re in a dress. 
Your legs are fucking out. 
His throat all of a sudden dry, suddenly unable to focus on anything—hand grasping his glass, the ice clinging and clanging against it. 
Then your eyes land on him. The rest of the room faded to nothing. He can feel his cheeks warm, his smile beginning to rise—all of it natural, all of it without thought. 
Punctuating it all is the soft lulls of Friday I’m In Love playing as he takes the moment to truly drink you in. It feels like minutes, maybe an hour—and he isn’t going to squander it for a second…
And then you blink, stepping up to the bar. 
“Hi, could I order—wait, you are beautiful,” you say to the woman behind the bar—your eyes staring at her. 
Gaz steps in, apologising, but all he’s focusing on is you. 
You’re here. 
Looking every inch radiant from head to fucking toe.  
And he needs another drink. He needs a shot. 
He needs…
A fucking hope and a prayer because he’s not sure if he can pocket his feelings anymore—unsure if stuffing them down will go well with alcohol, bitterness, and the smoothest scotch he’s had in ages. 
So he orders another. 
And three drinks down, and Soap is sitting across from you. A wobbly table between you both, your elbow leaning on it, rocking it from side to side occasionally. 
The scent of fusty ale and brass having faded, swapped for a floral perfume and the elements of his drink. 
You’re focused, even with slightly glazed eyes, on the bar—on the others behind the two of you. Likely on the girl behind the bar, the one you keep staring at—the one who keeps shooting Ghost smiles. 
And he’s jealous. 
He’s jealous because he’s wondering if you’re jealous.
If you want him—your two’s Lieutenant. The one who trained you, sparred with you, and made you go to sleep. 
“C'mon, lass. Desert island, who’d y’want with you?” 
“It’s her.” 
“Wha—?”
You blink, staring at him—your glass in hand as you shake your head. “What?” 
“Who’s ya best friend, lass?”
Your hands play with your glass, spinning it on the wooden table—the one with chipped and glass rings all over its mahogany surface, “From that, I’m guessing you’re hoping it’s you.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
His throat dries. 
Suddenly realising he shouldn’t have pushed this button. Not sure his frame of mind can even take it. Alcohol bubbling in his stomach, his throat—
“Who then?” 
“Gaz. Obviously.
“Why is tha’obvious?”
“He lives closer.” 
“Is that wha’ makes a friendship, then?”
“Well, my best friend wouldn’t willingly choose to live further away from me, would they?” 
He smiles, realising you’re pulling his leg. Winding him up. Teasing him. 
“Don’t you live closer to, Lt?” 
Leaning closer, you take a purposeful sip, staring him down. Searing down to the core. “Yes, but he can’t be my best friend.” 
Tell me why. Tell me it’s me. 
Choose me. Pick me. 
His heart thumping more, almost in beat with the song. Thump. Thump. Thump. It almost rises up, almost in his throat, pounding against the space he needs to breathe through.
“And, why’s that?” 
You drain your glass, clanking it down. “I can’t be best friends with someone who calls me ‘Squidlet’, Soap. It’s demeaning enough that I let him call me that, never mind rewarding him for it by giving him more of my awesome personality. He can be third in line.” 
And it sinks. 
That feeling. The hope. The want. 
“Well,” he says, quickly. “Ah, I’m glad y’pulled y’self away from Lt to drink with me then, ya fourth.”
“What?”
“Nothin’”
Your hand clutches his arm, stopping him from raising his own glass. “Tell me.” 
“Yur’ always wit ‘im. Before. Could n’va find ya.”
“Who? Gaz?”
“Nah, Lt.”
Inwardly, he cringes. Hating the alcohol, hating how it makes his tongue loose in his head. Letting all of it, each festering feeling, bubble to the surface. 
Because you’re more than his friend. 
You’re so much more. 
“Johnny… it… we were just sparring.”
“Yea, it’s alright—“
“Wait. Are you jealous?”
“No!”
He doesn’t mean to snap. 
Your eyes stare at him, hand dropping from his arm as you slowly reel back. And then you stand, and he inwardly pleads for you to sit. 
Please, Lass. Please. 
Your mouth opening, words all set to be spat, but then you shake your head, walking until you’re out of his sight—the cold draft on his back is enough of an indication of where you've gone. 
Leaving him with a choice. 
One that begins to grow inside of him as the song begins. One he’s heard already, but now it feels different. It’s motivating, it’s making him down his drink, slamming it back down. 
It’s making him stand, turning, watching the other three men staring at him, two with a knowing smile, one with a knowing stare. Even the woman—he doesn’t know the name, who he’s sure is fucking Ghost—leans against the pumps has that look. 
And he knows.
Like they all do. 
His feet move him to the door as Price grabs him around the forearm. “So, the rumours true, or?” 
“Aye, well ther’ about to be, sir.”
“That so?”
“Yeah… I’d apologise, but, excuse me.”
It’s cold. 
That’s what he thinks first when he steps outside. Eyes adapting to the dark, to the mist from the rain—letting the bitter feeling coat his bones. The dread, the fucking ache caused by even letting you go. 
He pleads. 
Hopes, too. 
Please don’t have left, lass. 
Scanning, looking, and then he hears it. Pacing—pacing that he knows so well it’s burned into his brain. Finding you, watching you down the side of the alleyway, turning to face him as you stop, hands flexing at your side as you stare at him. 
“You’re very annoying.” 
“Aye, probably,” he says, stepping closer. “But, that’s cause y’drive me crazy, and I canne’ stop thinkin’ bout ya. And then, your wir’ him and…” 
Your eyes roll, strands of hair sticking to your face. “Oh, shut up. You know it’s you. You know I like you. You have to.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. Because it’s woven neatly between my faux-contempt and sarcasm.”
“Well, y’can probably see how I may have missed that, ay?”
“Not really. I think it’s pretty obvious. Personally. I don’t share a bed with Gaz. And I’m not standing outside as it fucking pelts it down in a ridiculously thin dress because I like British weather. I’m stood out here because the guy who is my best friend, and that I’m pretty sure I could be in love with, is being a dickhead.”
Staring, he steps closer, watching you fold your arms. “Y’in love with me?”
“Of course, that’s the part you heard.”
“Mari—“
You cut him off, not just with your eyes, but with your words. “I mean, as big as Ghost is, it’s not him I ask to lie in bed with after a difficult mission. It’s not him that I go to when I need to smile or laugh. Fuck, I only chose him for sparring because he doesn’t go easy on me, and… and I can’t have you thinking you need to save me.”
“I don’t—“
“—but you do. You practically ripped up Urzikstan to find me.”
“Cause y’were ambushed, lass. Not cause I dunna think y’can handle y’self. Shittin’ Jesus, I know y’can. Y’terrify me because I canne’ lose you. Not cause I dunna think y’can do it.”
It sits there. 
His words. Yours. The two of them ferment, shifting. The space between the two of you gets smaller until his hand is on your cheek, and yours is on his waist, and he wants nothing more than to close the gap. To kiss you. To taste the drinks you’ve been sipping from your lips. 
But he pauses. 
Needing to capture this, the two of you. 
“Soap…”
“Yea’, Mari…” 
He watches you swallow, how your eyes flick from his own to his mouth. “I’d be lost without you, Johnny.” 
He’s not sure who moves first. You, or him. 
But you taste like sweetness and alcohol—your lips cold against him, tinged with the droplets from the sky. Your perfume envelops him, swirling with his, making a concoction of something he thinks he wants to bottle. You and him. A scent he’s both never smelt before and yet had been craving as his hand slides around your cheek—clutching you close as he feels your hands dig into his waist. 
You moan against him, soft, low, almost vibrating through him. Your soft, fucking lips and he slides his tongue against your teeth, and he almost loses his goddamn mind. 
Because it’s happening. 
And he doesn’t want it to slip through his fingers. Not now, not ever. Moving you, as you suddenly begin guiding him, his back against the wall of the pub. 
For a moment, he stops, and then your fingers crack open his belt. The sound loud, so loud, in the silence of the night and the rain making puddles. Your mouth capturing his, your hand sliding down the space and nestle of hair between his stomach and cock. Your hand wraps around him, and it’s…  
More than he thought it could be. 
Even more so when you stroke him, pumping him with your hand, eliciting a groan as he feels your grip tighten, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you slowly lower to your knees in front of his very eyes. 
“Fuck, Mari. Y’dont even know what y’do to me.” 
“I can feel it, if that helps.”
“Ay, behave.”
Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, lips practically touching the head of his cock as your breath dances over the tip. 
“Make me, Johnny.”
He blinks. 
Stares. 
And then your mouth is around him, taking him into your warm fucking mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip of him. And it’s everything. The image of it alone almost makes him come down your throat until it hits him—
“What the fuc—“ you snap.
His hand dragging you off him, up onto your feet. 
“No girl o’mine is suckin’ me off on her knees in this shite weather.” 
Your lips part, rendered silent as you just stare. “Your girl?”
“Aye, if you want to be?” 
Just the wind blowing down the alleyway, your perfume hitting his nose like it has done all night. Scratching the back of his brain, coaxing him closer with its scent-filled fingers. 
“Did you… did you just stop me from sucking you off?” 
“Aye.” 
“Fuckin’ hell, you love me, you love me back...” 
He runs his tongue over his teeth. Because fuck, he kinda does, but, also, fuck. 
“This fuckin’ dress—“ he groans instead, turning you, pressing your back against brick as you smirk. “—that fuckin’ smile.” 
You clutch his waist as he winds his hand up your thigh, his belt clattering against his legs as his trousers slide down. “All for you, Johnny.” 
“Steamin’ Jesus, Mari. Call me that again,—“
And then you say your name. 
Surrendering it, presenting to him. It’s the best thing he’s ever been given. It almost mingles with your breath, it’s that silent. The only evidence of you speaking it is the wisps of your exhale swirling with the air. 
He rolls it around his mind, as he did with your nickname, and then he says it as he slips his fingers under the band of your lace. Sliding two inside of you, groaning at the feel of you—of how much you want him. Not Simon. Not Gaz. Him. 
“Only you,” you say, all breathy, eyes closed. 
As if you can read his thoughts. Like you’re living in his fucking head. 
“Only ever you.” 
“Fuckin’ hell.” 
Your eyes open, lust boldly staring at him as he finds that spot—the one which makes you grip his shoulder, nails digging in through his shirt. 
And he’s going to ruin you. He’s going to fuck you until neither of you can take anymore. 
He promises it to you with each stroke of his fingers inside you, each ghostly kiss he gives you as you chant his name and he catches each one. 
He will. But not here. 
That’s what hotels are for. 
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“Hey, none of that being cute, shit, today. I’m in enough trouble with Price as it is.” “Ay. Alright. But, y’think I’m cute?” “Shut up, Johnny.” “Got it, lass.” A beat happens, him staying as he watches you. “You don’t have to stay, Soap.” “I want t’.” “Okay.” “Alrighty.” 
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He awakens to a knock. 
It’s not loud, but dull. 
And very bloody insistent. 
Slowly, he opens his eyes, half-hoping his mind hasn't lied to him, before finding your face close to his—turned to him, watching him. 
It’s not a dream. 
“Hi…”
“Hello,” you say, rocking your hips as you smile. 
If you ever try to tell him you don’t look beautiful in the morning, he’d pull up this image of you—right here. 
“Someone’s at the door, Johnny.” 
“Y’got legs, Mari.” 
“No, I don’t, actually,” you say with a smirk. “Someone fucked me to the point they’re broken. I almost knocked myself out getting to the bathroom for a wee an hour ago. You did this, so you go.” 
It blooms in his chest as he stands, throwing on his underwear as he heads to the door. 
The smirk not fading, not just because of the knowledge he’s done that to you—made your legs weak—but that you were staring at him how you just had been doing. The realisation that your body is naked under those expensive, Egyptian bed sheets—the same ones he’d fucked you under, on top of and likely around throughout last night. 
If you’re trying to blow my back out, you’re succeeding.  Y’know I don’t like t’fail missions, hen.  Call me that again. Wha? Hen?
It’s different, unique. 
A look he’s never seen. It’s almost content mixed with adoration, happiness trying to be hidden by disdain—the latter something you’ve perfected over time. 
Am I your best friend now?  No. You’re something else. Oh, upgraded, am I? What is it you say? Aye?
He looks back, finding you watching him, hand up, close to your face, trying to shield your face. Maybe hiding a smile, a devious smirk. But, it’s the look in your eyes he almost can’t place, it almost stops him. Makes him ask what is wrong. 
But they knock, again. Interrupting a moment he’s been wishing for more than he does a shower after being covered in guts and blood. Whoever they are, impatiently bothering them. 
It’s not until he opens the door, the person standing with a cart and metal dishes on it does he realise—
“Room service.” 
The minx. 
The beautiful, fucking minx.
He grins, almost to the point it makes his cheeks ache as he takes it from them. Trying to guide it back into the room with minimal clanging and difficulty. His hands are desperate to pull the lid off, finding your hand on top of his—body covered in pulled sheets from the bed, teeth biting your lips. 
“What’cha done ‘ere then?” 
His hand brushes your cheek, finding it as soft as it always is—your eyes softening, lips widening as you move into him. It’s different, and he’s glad. It’s closer, with no space between the sides of your body, no remaining space left purposefully because of friendship. 
“Streaky bacon…”
“Aye?” 
Lifting the tin, seeing a whole plate full of it. His head turning, looking at you, watching you smile up at him—your hand on his chest, drawing those soft shapes—the same ones you did when the two of you caught your breaths after the third… maybe fourth… time he made you come on his cock. 
“Y’still like t’ same thing for breakfast, Mari?” 
“Only if it’s yours.” 
His cheeks burn—his ears too. “Y’heavenly, you are.” 
“I try” 
You lift the other tray, his eyes finding an array of fruit. Watching you take a piece, popping it in your mouth. His questioning look must be evident, your eyes watching him as you swallow. 
“Ghost once told me sugar is good post-workout—refuels the muscles or something,” you say, swiping your tongue against your bottom lip. “And we still have this room till 11am, don’t we? And I thought, since we’ve already wasted a lot of time—” 
He captures your lips. 
The sheet falling from between the two of you, like paper to the floor—effortless and silent. His body flush against you, feeling your giggle bubble through you to him. All light, airy—and fucking perfection. 
“Mine,” he whispers against your lips as the two of you fall back into bed. 
“Yours,” you whisper back, throwing your leg over him as you straddle him, hovering your lips over his. “All yours, till you’re sick of me.”
He moves your hair from your face, grasping your hip—thump fitting over the growing bruise he’s already left. “‘never be sick of you, Mari.” 
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an: reader is called mari... because of calamari... squid joke ;)
prequel jealous!soap fic here
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