⚠ — Porn shoot (literally public sex), Hyunjin and his oral fixation™ (canon idc i've seen how this mean eats his food), olympic level edging, emotional turmoil, the feels (it's not angst, but i don't know how to describe it) (see masterlist for more)
➥ 9.9k (~42 min. read)
➥ The night before filming, you experience the spiral of your life, but when the morning comes, it's as if Hyunjin is hellbent on wiping your memory.
*a/n: New year, new him. Enjoy your man, Strokes Fan Club; hope the wait is worth it. I personally had a blast working on this chapter.
Contains something bigger than an easter egg if you've read Unprofessional. If not, just enjoy the ride.
𝚃𝙾𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝙼𝙴
[...]
As you were kicking your feet, thinking about what other accidental perks you might have as the lead of a screen production, the door to your trailer opened again. Your lips parted at the unfamiliar sight, but no sound came out. Even if it did, it would be nothing more coherent than a “Hhhaaaaa…” anyway.
Between yesterday and today, WHEN did Hyunjin even find the time to get a goddamn makeover?!
He was slowly walking towards you like the Grim Reaper’s hot cousin, dirty blond hair slicked back, sporting bulging biceps at 7 in the morning like his favorite pastime activity was watching the world burn. The closer he approached, the more you were convinced you were having the horniest fever dream of all time, and there was simply no way that it was your job to have sex with this man.
On fucking camera!
“Oh, hey!” you chirped, greeting him with way too much energy despite the dire lack of sleep, clearly overcompensating. “Good m—”
Instantly. Blank slate.
This man could just blow a kiss at you all the way from the other side of the room, and you would still forget who you were, but unfortunately for you, you were very much being kissed, so vehemently that one would think Hyunjin was a soldier coming back home from 32 months of active duty. It was as if you weren’t the one fast descending to the bottom of your phantom jealousy just hours ago.
“W–What are you doing?” you asked in the smallest voice.
“What does it look like?” he panted into your mouth, eyes half-open as he made you walk towards the bed behind you. “Having breakfast.”
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✉ Enjoyed this? Your feedback & reblogs free my chapters from the draft prison.
⚠ — Very light angst (I think?) compensated with fluff (see masterlist for more)
➥ 1.5k (~6 min. read)
➥ Just like Chris runs to Jisung, you run to your own best friend for comfort, but Naomi's reaction to her mortal enemy is a lot softer than you expect.
This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.
*a/n: I think I messed up big time while updating my taglist, and I apologize for that. If I've been somehow missing you, please let me know in the comments so I can update directly under this post. Thanks! ^^
𝙸𝚃’𝚂 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙰 𝙷𝙰𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙽-𝙳𝙰𝚉𝚂 𝙲𝚄𝙿
“You wanna yell first or cry first?” your confidant asked as soon as she opened the door.
Feeling too heavy after the unpleasant exchange, you made a U-turn halfway home and found yourself at Naomi’s. In all honesty, it wasn’t the best option considering her cold beef with Chris, but what you needed right now was an enabler, not the voice of reason. You gave her the entire rundown of events without any intermissions and waited for her to go ballistic with you so you could spit out all your venom.
It surprised and frustrated you a little bit that she chose this moment of all times to be a mature adult.
“Look, I don’t hate Chris,” she corrected your long-standing conviction while handing you a Häagen-Dazs cup. “It’s the way he acts towards you that I can’t fucking stand sometimes.”
“Can you please revise your statement in a way that unconditionally validates me?” you pouted while dipping the spoon to the bottom of your Rocky Road.
“He’s acting like a little bitch,” she instantly complied. “Better?”
“Loads,” you smiled back at her, albeit with zero joy in it.
You rested your head on the giant cushion behind you and sighed, staring at the ceiling like it would tell you what to do. He was the one at fault here, and you fucking hated that you were still missing him as though you’d been apart for days. You wondered what Chris was doing. Was he back home already, or did he go to Jisung’s? Or was he still out finishing the date by himself? Or was he out at a bar drinking his problems away? Or was he using the bartender as a bootleg therapist? What if that bartender was a woman? What if she was super pretty and offered him a shoulder to cry on and invited him back to her place and he went home wit—?
OH, SHUT THE FUCK UP, you smacked the dramatic bitch living in your head rent-free.
“You can stay here as long as you want,” Naomi shoved a giant spoon of brainfreeze into her mouth, “but I think, and I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, you should go home.”
“Why?” you creased your brows.
“Isn’t it obvious? Ever since your little breakfast talk, he’s been living in constant dread of losing you,” she explained, the unpleasant memories of her failed relationship splattering bitterness all over her face. “I know a thing or two about what that can turn a bitch into.”
“Right, he’s sooo scared of losing me that he doesn’t give a shit about what I specifically asked him not to do,” you rolled your eyes.
“Girl, please, don’t you remember how you reacted when I told you about the subreddit?” she pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged on the couch.
“How the hell is that the same thing?!” you shrieked with the same level of rage as that day. “Random bitches being thirsty for the person you share your life with would make anyone snap!”
“True, yet you went berserk over, quote, random bitches,” she made sarcastic quotes in the air. “Now imagine it wasn’t anyone random at all, but someone he asked to marry. And she broke off the engagement, not him. You’re telling me you’d be able to keep it super chill if you heard they’ll be working together ?”
“That’s work, obvio—”
“In close proximity.”
“It’s not like they wi—”
“Imagine it’s Alice.”
You didn’t say anything out loud, but your eyes were widened enough to read the ‘Oh, heeeeell no!’ written in them, so fast that Naomi started cackling like a witch.
“Yup, there it is,” she cheesed, satisfied that she finally elicited the reaction she was fishing for, then pointed her spoon at you. “And while we’re on the subject, I really can’t tell if you’re turning a blind eye on purpose or if you’re actually clueless about the situation.”
“What situation?”
“Come on, now,” she scoffed. “If you legitimately think Hyunjin is indifferent to you, ya dumb, girl.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“It means I see the way he looks at you,” she leaned in closer, whispering knowingly.
“No, you’re seeing things because you worship chaos, Nay. There’s a difference,” you retorted, a little annoyed at her insinuations. “Hyunjin knows about me and Chris! And he told me himself that he is involved with someone.”
“Oh, reeeeeally?” Naomi dragged out her reaction with an unlimited amount of taunt in her voice. “And who might that mysterious woman be, I wonder?”
“I didn’t ask,” you shrugged.
“A woman who does not have a single drop of online presence…”
“So what? Hyunjin’s always been a private person,” you refuted, slowly failing to convince yourself.
“No one escapes my stalking skills, bitch. I’m the one who told you Chris was head boy in high school,” she deadpanned, albeit clearly taking way too much pride in her know-how. When your aghast silence dragged on, she spelled it out for you as a last resort. “Jesus christ, you’re gonna make me say it. She doesn’t exist!”
“Why would he lie to me unprompted?” you asked, confused out of your mind.
“Unprompted?!” Naomi slapped her forehead, thoroughly frustrated with how much you were trying to dodge the facts. “You turned him down when he asked to catch up with you! That was his way of getting you comfortable around him, that hot-ass sly fox.”
“You were listening?!” you gasped, mortified for some reason even though that conversation barely lasted fifteen seconds. “Reduce your screen time. You’re watching way too many dramas.”
“Fine. Ask to double-date. See if he will agree.”
“And risk sending Chris to jail?!”
In the middle of your heated argument over hung-up ex allegations, a stream of texts started to flow. Seeing the name on the screen instantly soothed your rage, and maybe even gave you a little bit of butterflies.
Chrizztopher
baby im so sorry
i really am
tonight was supposed to be about other things i know
but you said you wanted to break up with me just days ago
thats why i panicked really bad
im not shifting blame i swear
i know its my fault
i’ll do better i promise
You read the wall of texts from top to bottom. Thrice. While nothing could absolve his behavior tonight, you still couldn’t help making Naomi’s Alice comparison in your head. It was easy to hate her since she was the most despicable person on the face of the earth, but what if she wasn’t? What if you gave her the role of a perfectly decent ex? What if you watched them work together day after day, frequently reminiscing about ‘that one time’s of their lengthy relationship? And terrifyingly enough, what if she was still hung up on him?
Was being involved with someone else enough to not get swept up in nostalgia? To not miss the other person at all? Especially if you ended things on rather friendly terms?
Did Chris have a point after all?
“What does he say?” Naomi asked.
“Why do you assume it’s him?” you countered.
“Who else is gonna make you look like Subby at this hour?” she snorted.
You couldn’t even refute her and smiled in tiny, laced with just a drop of joy this time. You showed her the screen for real-time analysis.
“Loving the spiral,” she nodded approvingly. “Bet money he’s blasting power ballads from his ridiculously expensive speakers right now.”
As your first genuine chuckle jumped from your lips, your phone buzzed again.
Chrizztopher
im not asking you to forgive me tonight
just… dont give up on me yet
im begging you
please 🥺
“Yyyup, now that your man landed the fatality, time to go home, girl,” Naomi concluded the evening on behalf of both of you and gave you a tight hug. “If he goes dumb again, you have my spare key.”
After a bit of an idle drive to clear your head, you finally returned home. All the lights were turned off, and you found Chris sleeping on the couch in his sweatpants. Your heart swelled at the sight of him. You gently approached, super careful not to wake him up, and ran your fingers through his hair. Even when he was sleeping, he looked so uneasy. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to rest.
“I still love you so much, idiot,” you whispered, “but I really need you to catch up to me.”
When you softly kissed his cheek, your lips lingered on his skin for a long while. Then you left for bed. When the door closed in the distance, Chris opened his eyes, lovingly caressing the spot your lips just touched.
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✉ Enjoyed this? Your feedback & reblogs free my chapters from the draft prison.
synopsis: after watching chan’s sit down with john park, you make it your personal mission your boyfriend gets to see the stars he misses so much. it may not be in the way he suspects, but it’s heartwarming nonetheless.
pairing: bangchan x f!reader
genre: fluff
contains: reader calls chan “chris”, kissing, chan being loved and cared for and sweet :3
word count: 1.8k
now playing: i wish i was the moon - neko case
[a/n]: did i write this during my break at work? yes. did i reread literally any of it? HAHAHAH hell no :3 enjoy !!
“uh, random question.” the pause that follows isn’t long, but it stretches just long enough that it weighs heavy on your shoulders.
“do you sometimes miss seeing the star?”
chan’s voice is soft as it seeps from your computer speakers, but it still manages to punch into you like a truck.
you’d barely been holding in tears in the first place, this whole episode being too damn tragic for how calming it is to listen to, but now? after that single, simple question, you can’t quite hold it in anymore.
there had been talk of childhood, how chan and the kids haven’t gotten a break in god knows how long, how your boyfriend had been a trainee for eight years before debuting. hell, you’d gotten through him calling himself a horrible person for making the kids cry during their survival show- but this?? this hits a spot in your soul far deeper than anything has in a long time.
it takes you a minute to pull yourself together, to wipe away the tears and get your breathing to even out, but even once they’re gone the sadness still lingers.
after the video comes to a close—after your ribcage squeezes harsh around your heart at chan’s sweet laugh after muttering a small when will i get married?—you have to take a minute or two to just sit with yourself.
the thing at the top of your mind is how badly you want to hug chan when he comes home.
over the next week or so you find yourself looking outside at night more than you normally would—or really just for a different reason than before.
you used to look out to admire the city life—the cars crawling along the streets, the neon lights that flicker every now and then, the buildings that reach into the sky—but now you look for something else: the stars.
at first you think maybe chan had just be exaggerating a little bit in the video, that there were some littered across the sky, just not as much as there were back at his home in sydney.
four days in you realize he was being truthful. there’s nothing.
correction: they are definitely there, but they just aren’t visible. light pollution. cloudy skies. it all shrouds them from the human eye.
it’s disheartening, to say the least.
you’ll make do, though. you always do. and if you can’t force away light pollution to dissipate enough to see the night sky in all it’s glory, you best believe you’ll take it into your hands.
the next evening you go to three separate stores in hopes of getting your hands on what would serve to be your saving grace: glow in the dark stars.
you found a few packs at the previous stores, but they were all stupidly small and too pricy for said size. who knew that plastic stars were such a commodity these days?
it’s at the third store—a little shop tucked into a side street—that you find exactly what you need. the pack is modest, a little worn on the edges but otherwise fine. when you flip it over and see the little picture demonstrating how you could arrange them, you know its perfect.
you walk out with five packs. a little overboard? sure. do you care? absolutely not.
chan doesn't get home until late that night, long after you've already arranged the stars across your apartments ceiling in scattered constellations—some real, some completely made up.
you’ve never been super grateful for chan’s tendencies to overwork himself by staying late at the studio, but tonight you can’t help but thank him for it. the stars took a little longer to hang up than originally anticipated, and you would’ve been crushed (and just a tad bit embarrassed) if he’d walked in on you balancing haphazardly on a barstool, plastic stars in hand as you decorated rhe ceiling.
the trail starts right above the apartment's front door, a sparse scatter of luminous stars that dot the ceiling in ones and twos. as the path winds further down the hallway in intentional spirals, the stars began to multiply—three here, five there—growing denser with each step toward the bedroom. by the time the trial reaches the living room, small clusters had formed, like little galaxies emerging from the darkness.
the closer it got to the bedroom door, the thicker the constellations became, stars overlapping and crowding together until they formed an almost continuous river of light that pooled above the bed in a breathtaking canopy.
some of them even spilled from the ceiling down the corners of the walls, filling the room with the softest glow.
it’s ridiculous. childish, even. but you can’t find it in you to care, not when pride grows warm in your chest at how pretty the sight of them is.
you’re making yourself at home in bed when you hear the familiar sound of the front door opening, followed by the soft thud of chan's bag hitting the floor.
"baby?" his voice carries down the hallway, tired but warm. "you still up?"
you prop yourself up on your elbows as you call back a soft “in here.”
you hear his footsteps padding down the hallway, only making it a few feet before he stops. there's a pause, one long enough that you know he's finally noticed.
"what the..." his voice trails off, confusion laced in each syllable.
you can't help but grin as you listen to him move slowly through the apartment, following the trail you’d spent so long layong out. his footsteps are slower now, more deliberate, like he's trying to piece together a puzzle.
when he finally appears in the doorway of the bedroom, his expression is priceless.
his eyes are wide, mouth slightly parted as he takes in the layout of glowing stars above the bed.
you cant help but think he looks like a kid who's just walked into a surprise birthday party.
"did you- did you put stars on our ceiling?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
you sit up fully now, tucking your knees to your chest. a laugh pushes its way from your lips, finding the question obvious but also endearing. "sure did."
"but… why?" he steps further into the room, craning his neck to look up at the constellations you've created. the soft green glow catches in his dark eyes, making them shimmer.
you can’t decide what’s prettier, him or the stars.
you take a breath, suddenly feeling a little shy about the whole thing. "uh, remember that episode you did with john park? when you asked if he ever missed seeing the stars?"
chan's expression shifts immediately. recognition, then something softer. he nods slowly.
"i started looking for them after i watched that," you continue, fidgeting with the hem of chan’s your shirt. "every night for like- a week. but there's nothing out there, chris. the light pollution, the clouds... you can't see anything-"
his eyes haven't left your face, and you watch his throat bob as he swallows.
"i just- i guess i couldn't stop thinking about it. about how you've been working so hard for so long, how you barely get breaks, and how even something as simple as seeing stars got taken away from you. so..." you gesture weakly at the ceiling, cheeks feeling warm. "i thought maybe i could bring them to you instead."
the statement came out more as a question then… well, a statement.
the silence that follows feels impossibly heavy. chan just stands there, staring at you with an expression you can't quite read, and for a horrifying moment you think maybe you've overstepped somehow.
but then his face crumples into something that can only be labeled as completely and utter admiration.
"channie-" you start, pushing yourself up and off the bed with the smallest laugh, taking a step forward to wrap him in your arms.
he beats you to it.
chan crosses the room in three strides and pulls you into his arms so tightly you almost lose your breath. his face buries into your neck almost immediately, and you can feel him shaking slightly.
"you're ridiculous," he mumbles against your skin, voice thick. "you're so fucking ridiculous and i love you so much."
your hands come up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. "i love you too, baby."
he pulls back just enough to look at you, and god, the way he's looking at you—like you've hung the moon instead of some cheap plastic stars—makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.
"i can't believe you did this," he says, letting out a watery laugh. "i can't believe you listened to that stupid video and remembered and went out and bought- how many stores did you even go to?"
"three," you admit, just a tad bit sheepish.
"three," he repeats, shaking his head in disbelief. his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs stroking gently across your cheekbones. "you went to three stores to buy glow in the dark stars because i said i missed seeing the sky."
"well, when you put it like that—"
he kisses you before you can finish, soft and sweet and so full of emotion that it makes your chest ache for the nth time.
when he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours. "thank you," he whispers. "seriously. thank you."
you manage to grt in a "you're welcome," before he kisses you again, then once more for good measure.
finally, chan releases you in favor of looking back up at the stars—his stars.
he lies down on the bed, pulling you with him until you're tucked against his side, both of you staring up at the glowing ceiling.
"they're beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. "you're beautiful. this is-" his voice catches slightly. "i think this is the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me."
you burrow closer into his chest, letting your eyes trace the patterns above you. "you deserve nice things, chris. you deserve to see the stars."
his arm tightens around you, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything. you just lie there together in the soft green glow, wrapped up in each other while the weight of the day finally melts away.
"i don't think i'm ever going to be able to sleep without these now," chan admits quietly, a hint of humor creeping back into his voice.
you smile against his shoulder. "good thing i bought five packs then."
his laugh rumbles through his chest, warm and genuine and so utterly him that you can't help but smile wider.
"i really, really love you," he says again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
➥ What you thought was a client dinner ends up being an opportunity for you to trap the man of your dreams.
This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.
Any street of show business is shady as fuck, but lookism is the boss bitch. She decides who gets to stand before the viewfinder, be it for still images or moving ones. She makes or breaks you. She is cutthroat. She is a cunt. And none of this is fair.
You weren’t about to feel sorry for staring at pretty people for a living.
You were sane enough to know not to shit where you ate, thank you very much, but a photographer flirting with their models wasn’t exactly unheard of. You actually considered it an essential tool of the trade where everybody won—it masturbated the ego of your models and served as a good substitute for your nonexistent love life, sneakily turning your social bar green as if you were on hot Tinder dates instead of work.
“Give me that homme fatal energy. Like you know you can end my life with a single kiss. Just like that. Gorgeous.”
Things did get heated on set every now and then, but the cardinal rule was never to forget the intention. It was for the vibe, to get into a certain headspace. If you were doing an underwear catalog, of course you would want your model to feel like the sexiest person on the planet, and it showed in the final product beautifully.
Then the lights would turn back on, the people who didn’t belong to the moment would walk into the set, and it would be the funeral of the said vibe. Even if you legitimately wanted to fuck whatever ethereal marionette was obeying all your commands a second ago, the urge would evaporate.
“Good work today.”
“Can I get the B-cuts this time?”
“Sure. Send me $100,000.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“Damn straight.”
It would be a lie to say you didn’t have any favorites, though. Everyone did. Not because of their sheer looks either. Some of these people just knew what you wanted from them as if they possessed a black belt in mind-reading. They didn’t pose; they became someone else entirely. The second they stepped into the light, they left their entire personalities behind and shapeshifted into whatever it was you wanted them to be. However horrific. However scandalous.
A camera was nothing more than a magic lamp granting all your self-indulgent wishes, and you weren’t about to feel sorry that you got to rub it as much as you wanted. You had worked your ass off in pursuit of that lamp for years, mostly out of spite, just to emerge victorious from your major beef with your director friends for calling what you do filmmaking for dummies.
Oh, FUCK—YOU!
Of course they could show emotion in video; they had sixty fucking frames per second to work with. How about they tried to capture a tortured soul, unmitigated lust, or sheer joy in only one of them, huh? Mayhaps filmmaking was photography for the spectacularly talentless!
Needless to say, it was a bit of a sensitive topic…
“Minho is inviting you to dinner at Papillon this evening. What should I tell him?” Mindy asked as she pressed her hand over the receiver.
Have dinner was manager code for ‘Let me treat you to an expensive-ass meal because I need you to show favoritism for my client for this upcoming gig everyone is after.’ You had definitely made friends with the right people back in the day, and you weren’t about to feel sorry that you now got to enjoy the classily executed ass-kissing, all in the hopes of swaying you for a favorable decision. Why, yes, you were available tonight; would 7 p.m. work?
The gospel truth was that the aforementioned dinner was completely unnecessary because Minho happened to rep Chris Bang, the industry’s favorite child and your go-to choice of model for years. Everybody was on his ass to work with him. He was the golden combination of crazy good looks, impeccable work ethic, and a gigantic fanbase, making him the perfect candidate for every pictorial ever.
Well, Minho didn’t need to know you were already planning Chris’s styling in your head because you were never able to get a reservation at Papillon by yourself.
As much fun as it was to work with Chris, it was bamboozling how this man was entirely made up of hilarious contradictions. He clearly liked it when you complimented his figure he took particular pride in, but his ears would turn beet red. He gave pornstars a run for their money with how much eroticism he could convey, but he would throw a cringe fit even at objectively sexy A-cuts when he monitored his poses. He was an incorrigible flirt, heavily rizzing you up like he was building to a semi-decent proposal, but it would never culminate in an actual move—all of which would make the grand total of his personality a shy exhibitionist dork jock. And maybe, just maybe, you had a teensy bit of a crush on him.
Thus the small-scale butterfly invasion in your stomach when you saw him sitting by himself instead of Minho.
“The man, the myth, the legend in the flesh,” you walked up to the table, the floor-to-ceiling window to his left framing the nightscape perfectly. “I heard you went ballistic on your staff during the Givenchy shoot.”
“If they made it to the set on time like they were fucking supposed to, I wouldn’t have,” he widened his eyes in make-believe rage, which quickly transformed into his usual sunset smile. He stood up to greet you, and the soft peck he placed on your cheek instantly parched your throat.
“Where’s Minho?” you asked as you took your seat.
“Yeah, he’s not coming.”
“Ooh, he knows how much is at stake this time, doesn’t he?” you contently smirked. “He sent in the big guns.”
“Let’s get the formalities out of the way first, shall we?” he reached for the menu. “Just say you’re going to work with me for Dsquared2 right now so we can proceed to enjoying our date.”
You wheezed your lungs out, making extra sure it came off as you were laughing your ass off at how ridiculous that sounded, when in fact it was sheer nerves with giddiness frosting. It hadn’t even been sixty seconds, yet the flirting had started at stratospheric heights.
Fuck you so much, Minho…
“What’s so funny?” Chris questioned with a straight face. “I ambushed you into a date in case it wasn’t obvious.”
“Colleagues don’t do dates, Chris.”
“Colleagues also don’t get each other horny on set, but here we are.”
“You’re hilllarious,” you opened the menu and channeled all your attention to the main courses. “Today was a long day, I needed that. Thank you.”
“I volunteer to be your personal comedian if you’re into people who can make you laugh.”
“What is UP with you today, oh my god?!” you raised your voice in protest of the relentless charm. “Fine, I’ll make sure to mention you really really want this gig. Can you stop now?”
“What? I’m just making dinner conversation,” he suddenly switched to puppy eyes.
“Make conversation like a friend, not like a contestant on Too Hot To Handle,” you harshly turned the page to alcoholic drinks.
“Do you think I’m too hot to handle?”
“CHRIS!”
He burst out laughing, extremely entertained by how flustered he was able to get you. Well, at least one thing seemed to be certain.
Tonight was going to be a loooong night.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
If you were around during the inexperienced guy debate, it was for this project. It's more or less the same genre as Channing Bondi and Sam Strokes, but like more cutely (and hornily), I guess?
Reader discretion advised: May cause intensely kicking feet and falling in love.
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➥ Genre/Trope: Established relationship, Possessiveness
➥ Prompt(s) requested (March run)
· 50: Stick your tongue out.
· 63: Hotter than your ex, for sure.
· 64: Just a couple of licks.
⚠ — Exhibitionism, public sex
➥ He has promised not to throw jealous fits when he sees other guys ogling you. You have made no such promise.
“Stop that!” you lightly punch Chris on the shoulder and break into an intoxicated giggle. “Someone’s going to see.”
“Kinda the point,” he sloppily kisses your neck and smiles against your skin while walking. “Is it a crime to want to show off what’s mine?”
“You’re drunk.”
“False, I’m in love.
It’s supposed to be a wholesome night stroll at the park after a fulfilling dinner, but you may have had a bit too much to drink. His hands are in questionable places as you walk, and it doesn’t help the buzzing sensation on your clit when he subtly gropes your ass and squeezes your tits over your shoulder, all to get more flustered giggles out of you. He is taking complete advantage of the darkness along the path, and you reciprocate by stroking his hard on pressing against his jeans. He welcomes the advance but doesn’t seem quite satisfied with it.
“You’re only doing that because no one can see it,” he complains with a fake pout.
“Kinda the point,” you counter and remove your hand as you walk into the well-lit boardwalk. “Why would I jump you when anyone can see it?”
“The question is, why wouldn’t you, baby?” he bites your ear.
You hook your fingers into his belt loops in response, pulling him closer to you. He likes it when no air passes between you. He likes leaving you breathless when he kisses you. He likes it the most when you desperately call out his name as he does unspeakable things to you.
What he doesn’t like, however, is other people ogling you from head to toe in that dress, thinking about god knows what.
His eyes land on the group of people to his right, sitting on a bench and being rowdy as hell. One of the guys seem to particularly like what he sees.
He balls his hand into a fist and cracks his knuckles, jaw tightening beyond his control.
He has promised you he wouldn’t throw fits just because he thinks someone’s looking at what’s for his eyes only. It’s a trying practice for sure, but he tries really hard to swallow the venom for your sake.
Your steps slow down and eventually come to a halt.
You don’t really have Chris’ ballistic jealousy. If anything, you like it when people admire him. It kinda strokes your ego when people compliment him, and it’s so fucking cute when his ears redden at praise.
But among the people whispering things with their eyes glued to your man is his fucking ex, and she’s on her feet to make her way towards you.
Oh, hell no.
“In there,” you impulsively drag him into an alley.
“What the—?”
The secluded space just happens to be right in the suspect’s field of vision. As soon as you step into the narrow street, barely away from the boardwalk, you shove him against the cold brick wall.
“You,” you point at him threateningly, “are not allowed to be anyone’s object of desire.”
“What’s gotten into you, baby?” he giggles, then mimics your earlier words. “Someone’s going to see.”
“They’d fucking better,” you widen your eyes and unleash yourself on him.
He no longer wishes to have lungs if you can stay latched to his lips like this forever. He has never once seen you like this, and he’s scared he might be developing an instant addiction.
He’s so content he could die.
“You should do this more often, you know,” he pants into your mouth. “You’re so fucking hot when you lose your shit over me.”
“Hotter than your ex, for sure,” you sneer begrudgingly.
“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” he smirks, unable to hide how much he’s melting. “You’re marking your territory.”
“Yes, do you have a problem with it?”
“What took you so fucking long?”
He can’t think straight as he gets lost in you. Nothing other than the love of his life exists in this moment. Wanting him. Wanting him in the worst ways. Wanting to show off that she owns him.
He’s so happy he could die.
He shoves his fingers in your mouth, and you swirl your tongue around them on cue. He’s barely holding it together, jaw slack while watching you simulate how you devour his cock, but when you take his fingers three knuckles deep, it’s over for him.
With one quick move, he trades places with you, hoping it didn’t hurt much when your back clashed against the wall. He will apologize later with kisses all over it, promise.
“Fuck me,” you cling to his shoulders.
“No,” he kneels before you. “Taste first.”
“We don’t have tim—”
“Just a couple of licks.”
“Then stick your tongue out,” you command him.
He doesn’t possess a shred of rational thought. He has never once seen you like this, and it thrills him so much that he is about to jump out of his own body. He gives the chastest kiss on your clit before he obeys.
Whatever his baby wants, she gets.
“Ride me, baby.”
Your eyes close when his warmth merges with your wetness. He looks so fucking good between your legs, lapping at you as if you’re oozing the antidote to the venom crawling in his veins. This right here, the man who gives no fucks about anything else other than his name on your lips, belongs to you and you only.
This bitch better know her place.
“Chris, faster…”
He breaks into a diabolical smile and suddenly stops, jumping to his feet like he has a timer he’s competing against. He swiftly turns you around, and you hear his belt unbuckling behind you.
“Your jealousy tastes fucking delicious,” he growls into your ear, his tip already prodding your entrance. “Bend over.”
He doesn’t enter you. He gatecrashes.
He’s the one inside you, relentlessly thrusting his way to the finish line, but it still feels like you’re claiming him. You’re in public, but when his arm coils around your waist, it still feels like you’re in your bedroom with all the lights dim. You turn your head around and pull him into a kiss, clenching as hard as you can so he cums when he’s trapped within your lips.
It’s better than an orgasm when he floods you like he’s been touch-starved for weeks.
“My legs are limp because of you,” you hold onto his arm as you walk out to the boardwalk again. “Could you redo the strap of my shoe, baby?”
As he kneels, you stare right at the woman in the distance burning in invisible green flames. Your eyes never leaving hers, you scrape the single drop of cum trickling down your thigh and lick it clean, reminding her once and for all what she can no longer possess.
“Let’s go home,” Chris kisses your forehead. “You owe me a proper meal.”
The woman makes sure you hear it when she spits the most hateful “Fucking cunt,” as you walk past. But honestly?
You can’t care any fucking less.
✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog & leave your thoughts so that I can keep writing more stories like this.
As you sit in the passenger seat of Chan's car, wearing one of the hoodies that he happened to have in his car, you can’t help but feel guilty. It's late, too late for the two of you to be parked in front of a 24-hour convenience store. But you didn't want to go to his place yet and you needed to get out of your parent’s house.
With your head leaning against the cool glass of the window, you watch as Chan disappears and reappears through various parts of the convenience store. A few times, you catch him glancing in your direction, with an expression that you can't see all too well from where you are but you know that at least part of it is concern.
Your heart has finally settled down to a normal rhythm after overworking itself for several hours. You're not sure if it's because of the familiar scent from being in Chan's car or the music he has playing while you wait for him or the melodious pattern of the rainfall hitting the car. Or maybe it's simply being out of your house. Either way, you feel calmer and more relaxed.
You also feel exhausted.
"Sorry for making you wait," Chan says as he hops back into the car. He sets a bag in the center console and shuts the door behind him. He pulls the hood of his jacket off, sending raindroplets flying around the car.
"Sorry for making you leave your place at 3 in the morning." You mumble, not moving from your position.
"Don't do that. You didn't make me do anything. If I thought you were bothering me, I would have said so." Chan softly pats your head before reaching for something in the bag. "Give me your wrist."
You give him your left hand without protest. He slowly rolls up your sleeve, careful not to add more discomfort. He looks over your wrist, moving it around like he knows what he's doing while you wince at the forced movement. He offers whispered apologies each time you express even the slightest sign of being in pain.
"Okay, I think it's just a bad sprain and a bruise, not broken." He whispers more to himself than to you. You glance over at him and spot his phone in his lap open to a WebMD page. He gives you back your arm, making sure to rest it on your lap.
He rummages through the bag for a second before pulling out everything. He does his best to place them on his lap, but the limited space being mostly taken over by the steering wheel makes it nearly impossible. Whatever he can't put on his lap is either placed back into the center console or on that dashboard. He takes two cups of ice that you didn't see him holding earlier and emptys the contents into the bag before tying it as tightly as he possibly can. He stacks one of the empty cups into the other before turning them upside down and putting them over the gear stick.
“This is going to be a little cold,” He warns before gently putting the makeshift icepack over your wrist.
Silence takes over the car again. The music is softer now and partly being drowned out by the pitter-patter of the raindrops hitting the car, falling harder than it was earlier. You rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes, focusing on the rain. Even then, the soothing rhythm is not enough to combat the jackhammering in your head that is slowly, but surely, drowning out every incessant thought flooding your brain.
"Are you hungry?" Chan offers, breaking the silence.
You shake your head and leave it at that.
You are hungry, starving almost. You can't exactly remember the last time you ate anything. Days blurred together in your head, distant and disconnected as if they happened to someone else. And yet, you're drowning in them, caught in the riptide and being dragged further away as the days continue. Classes during the day, work in the evening, and screaming at night.
"You can talk if you want," Chan tries again, words flowing slowly as he chooses his words with gentle care. "Or if you don't we can just sit in silence. Or I can drive around."
You sit there quietly for a moment, trying to figure out where to start. You can't remember what you've already told him, or exactly how much. You're not even entirely sure he knows exactly what's going on in your life at the moment. Still, as you look back at the last few weeks--no, the last few months--your lips remain sealed, trapping every thought and emotion filling your head. Your eyes slowly open. Unfocused and glassy, staring off at the blurry lights coming from the convenience store.
"I'm just so fucking tired," you finally mumble, your voice barely audible, as though you're speaking to yourself rather than to Chan.
Chan waits patiently in silence, hoping that you'll offer more. His hands fidget in his lap with a desire to reach over to you and embrace you in a tight hug. His heart silently shatters in his chest as looks into your eyes, now devoid of the light and warmth he's grown so accustomed to seeing. Now all he can find is a dull, lifeless gaze.
"I just...I can't do this anymore. I can't...I'm exhausted. I don't know what to do. I just..." You ramble, your voice trembling as you try to make sense of your thoughts.
"Just take a deep breath and start again," Chan's voice drops to a gentle tone.
"I can't," Your voice strains. You take one long, shaky breath before trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat. "I can't fucking breathe, Chan. I'm, I'm at the end of my rope here and I don't have it in me to keep holding on."
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to contain the tears that well up in your eyes. Only, one escapes, and then another and another until a steady stream rolls down your cheeks. You can't stop the choked sob that escapes your throat.
No longer able to watch silently from a distance, Chan wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. The sudden warmth and comforting scent of his body washed and shampoo mixed with his laundry detergent force more sobs out of you. Your right-hand rests on his chest, lightly gripping the fabric of his hoodie.
Chan doesn't shush you or try to get you to stop crying. Instead, his hold around you tightens with one hand on your back and the other on the back of your head. The hand on your back moves slowly, going up and down trying to soothe you a bit. Chan's head hangs low, almost resting against yours.
"It's okay, I'm here. Let it all out." His voice is just above a whisper and yet, he's louder than your sobs.
You're not sure how long you sit there crying with Chan holding you. Eventually, when you're out of tears and your throat starts to ache, Chan lets you go and you lean back into your seat. You start to tell him everything that's been happening for the past few months. The arguments between your older brother and your stepdad. How they end in screaming matches in the dead of the night. Your mother's wails to get them to stop. How you're somehow the one responsible for getting them to stop. The tension in your home and how you've been walking on eggshells, worried about setting either one of them off. With hardly any sleep or peace at home, you leave your house right at the crack of dawn and sit in the library on campus trying to get a few minutes of sleep before your first class of the day. How, even though you finish classes relatively early in the day, you'll stay on campus longer to get your school work done or study for exams without the interruption of the usual chaos in your home. You let him know about all of the extra shifts you've taken at work just to avoid the drama, but even that is wearing you down. And that most days, you come home so exhausted that you skip dinner and head straight to bed before being abruptly woken up by more screaming.
"Did they..." His voice trails off, unsure how to finish the question cautiously. But you don't miss how his eyes drift down to your arm before snapping back up to meet your eyes.
"No, neither of them would lay a finger on me." You shift in your seat so you can face him better. "This was an accident."
"Accident how?" There's an air of accusation in his tone, almost like he doesn't believe you. After hearing to story you just told him, you're not sure you'd believe you if you were in his position.
You move the makeshift ice pack to the other side of your wrist. Most of it melted, probably from the heat of your hug with Chan. "It was mostly my fault. Normally I just try to calm them down from the sidelines. But they were really on one today. One of them was drinking. Maybe both of them, I don't know. But they were really getting into each other's face and it looked like they were going to hit each other. I stupidly jumped in between them and got shoved. I tried to catch myself and landed badly. I forgot that they're both taller than me and when they're arguing, I'm quite literally in their blind spots. They both felt horrible...and then they started fighting again because I got hurt. I snapped after that and cussed both of them out before texting you."
"Were they still fighting when you left?" Chan's hand finds your head again. His fingers move slowly and he starts to massage your scalp, almost as if you're a puppy he's trying to calm down.
"Yeah," You sigh as you focus back on the rain running down the windshield. "Pretty sure one or both of them were drinking. It reeked of alcohol. My mom was crying and begging them to stop and begging for me to not leave. She probably thinks I'm not coming back."
Chan stops massaging your scalp and instead taps on your head to get your attention. It takes a second before you face him, part of you is embarrassed that he's watched you break down. And yet, you don't find a single look of judgment on his face. Instead, you meet eyes filled with so much tenderness it hurts. A gentle, understanding smile touching the corners of his mouth appears on his face when you finally look at him. His hand stays on your head, holding it in place as he starts to dry your face with the sleeve on his other hand. "Do you want to?"
"I mean, I don't have a choice. I'm a student working a part-time job. I don't even make enough money to rent a room in someone's house. My brother staying with us was only supposed to be temporary. Temporary means like six-plus months apparently."
"You're more than welcome to stay with us. That storage room that Jeongin puts all his packages in is actually a spare bedroom." Chan chuckles as he drops his hands. He focuses his attention back to your wrist. He grabs a tube that resembles toothpaste and squeezes some on your wrist. He takes a napkin that he has sitting next to his phone and spreads it around, making sure to spread the cool liquid evenly.
"I can't do that,"
Chan looks around for something for a moment before finding it on the floor by your feet. He leans over a container for a wrist brace. He flips it over to the back and starts reading the instructions. "Why not?"
"I can’t do that to you and Jeongin.”
“Do what?” He doesn’t look up as he takes the brace out of the packaging and carefully tugs it onto your wrist. “If anything, you’d be doing both of us a favor. I’ll get to see and hang out with my best friend more often. And Jeongin will be more than grateful to you for getting me off his back.”
“Well if you left the man alone and didn’t get cute aggression around him all the time then maybe he wouldn’t escape from the apartment all of the time.”
Chan finishes adjusting the straps and making sure he didn’t make it too tight before softly patting your hand and looking back at you. “Listen, I’m serious. Isn’t our place closer to the university anyway? You could probably walk. Or we could drop you off sometimes. Way cheaper than the bus.”
You subconsciously chew on your bottom lip as you consider it. Your job is also closer to their apartment than your house, something you were grateful for when you had a shift right after class. And yet, the image of your mom trying to deal with both your brother and stepdad alone pops into your head. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to erase the image in your head and the sound of your mother’s desperate pleas to stop both men. You bow your head in defeat and let out a small sigh. “It’s not fair to my mom,”
“It’s not fair to you either. Look at me,” Chan tucks his finger under your chin and forces you to look at him. “You are one of the strongest people I know but you’re wearing yourself thin trying to solve everything.”
“Yeah but…it’s my family. At the end of the day, I have to be there for them.”
“Are they there for you? Are they supporting you by keeping you up at night over petty bullshit when they know you have school or work in the morning? What about when you’re picking up extra shifts just to avoid being around them? Or making it impossible to do your school work?”
“All families are complicated, you know that.” You laugh awkwardly as you push Chan’s hand away.
“True, but…” Chan pauses for a moment, studying your face as unspoken words linger between the two of you. He runs his hands through his hair, making the already messy curls even more of a disheveled mess. “At least spend the night tonight. Or for a few days. You have exams coming up, right?”
“I could…but for one, I brought none of my stuff with me. Just grabbed my phone and left when you picked me up.” You hold your half-dead phone up. It’s been buzzing in your pocket the entire time with texts and calls that you can’t be bothered to look at right now. Part of you is scared to check.
“You’re already in your pajamas so you’re fine for now. And I’m sure we can find something for you to wear in the morning. I can take you back home when you get up to grab some stuff.” Chan shrugs as he settles his back against the door.
“Okay sure, let’s say I do stay. We go and get my things and I stay with you until exams are over or whatever. You don’t have a bed in that spare room. And as comfortable as your couch is, I can’t just live in your living room for a week. You, specifically, will go crazy.”
Chan lets out an amused laugh as he stares at you, “That’s cute, you think I’m going to make you sleep on the couch. Real funny joke,”
“Well other than the floor, there’s really no other options.”
“You can take my bed. I like the couch more anyway, it’ll give me a reason to sleep on it without being judged by In.”
“I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”
“If I’m willingly offering my bed, you’re not kicking me out.”
“Yeah but—“
“Stop acting like you’re burdening me. You aren’t. I like being around you and you’re genuinely one of my favorite people. You are not and never will be a burden to me. So get that out of your head.”
The last sentence echoes in your head. You never want to inconvenience or bother people, especially your friends, so they never know you’re going through something until it’s already over. You’re not sure what changed and made you text Chan tonight but you’ve spent most of the time feeling bad for waking him and forcing him out of the warmth of his bed.
You are not and never will be a burden to me.
Those simple words, combined with the soft look in Chan’s eyes hit you harder than they should. Your body feels lighter like a boulder has been lifted off your chest, allowing you to breathe for the first time in years. Possibly for the first time ever.
“H-hey, don’t cry,” Chan sits back up in a panic, rushing to wipe the fresh tears falling down your face. “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep. Pretty sure that convenience store worker is ready to call the cops on us for loitering. Let’s go home, hm? We can just share the bed tonight and talk about the rest later.”
You nod quietly as you wipe your face with your good hand and melt back into the seat. Chan moves everything off the dashboard and center console, haphazardly tossing them into the back seat, before getting settled to drive.
After backing out of the parking space Chan rests his hand on your lap, palm up, waiting for you to take it. You don’t think twice before slipping your good hand into his and resting your head on the window once again. Chan’s fingers lightly tap along to the beat of the song playing.
“Sorry for waking you up and falling apart on you,” You mumble with a small yawn, exhaustion slowly taking over your body.
“You don’t have to apologize. I’ll always be here to pick up the pieces whether you want me to or not.”
—
Buy me a coffee?
—
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➥ Fighter Pilot/Childhood BFF!Bang Chan x Reader (f) — 4.8k (~20 min. read)
➥ First love, Mutual pining, Smut with feelings
➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve tension and some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to read at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.
⚠ — Explicit sexual content
➥ You used to fly paper planes together; now he's commanding real ones in the sky. You spend every minute of every day missing him, having no idea you're all he thinks about night after night as he watches the ceiling of his empty room.
One chilly duskfall brings him back to you again along with little confessions a lifetime in the making.
The setting sun had painted the sky with the most beautiful gradient of cotton candy pinks, warm oranges, and pastel purples, flooding the kitchen with the golden glow of a summer day even though it was freezing outside. You spent the entire Sunday with Chris’ great-aunt making citrus jam. She had this habit of making her nephew’s favorites whenever she missed him too much, even when he wasn’t around to taste them. You knew how much solace she found in your presence when Chris wasn’t around, but it wasn’t just to make an old lady happy that you readily accompanied her every time she invited you.
It was your silent attempt to appease the excruciating longing you had for the curly-haired rascal you used to ride seesaws with.
“How’s this?” you held your hand under the tasting spoon carrying hot drops of jam and offered it to Helen.
“It’s perfect!” she loudly clapped, “We’ll label your batch with a gold star. I’ll go bring more jars from the cellar.”
You brightly smiled at her as she disappeared into the hallway, but the curls of your lips flattened in an instant. It just wasn’t working this time around. Every contrail in the orange sky outside was making your heart sizzle. The sweet and zesty scent permeating the kitchen was making you miss him even more terribly, reminding you of the eighth-grade summer you and Chris had to help Aunt Helen make fifty jars of citrus jam as punishment for not doing your summer homework.
“Wish you were here, Falcon,” you mumbled to yourself, heaving a deep sigh as you slowly stirred the pot, “It’s just not the same without you.”
“And what are your other two wishes, Chickadee?”
The extremely specific nickname rendered in that familiar voice gave you such a start that you thought you went certifiably insane for a second. When you swiftly turned towards the entrance, the jar you were holding said goodbye to this cruel world and loudly crashed into dust. Your heart was singing horribly out of tune while doing somersaults, and you were rapidly going back and forth between the urge to break down crying and die laughing for being able to manifest him out of sheer willpower.
“I know I was away for too long but you do remember who I am, right?” he dropped his large duffel bag on the floor, smiling at you with mischievous lights flickering in his eyes, “Where’s my hug, you klutz?”
You choked back a sob of relief and bolted into his embrace. You threw your arms around his waist, clawing at the fabric wrapping his body like he was going to evanesce otherwise.
“You’re back,” you whispered into the crook of his neck, breathing all erratically and trembling like a leaf, “You’re really back.”
He held you as tightly as he could to bask in your warmth, hoping you would forgive him for slightly hurting you. If it meant you were going to welcome him like this, he would gladly go to the bottom circle of hell any freaking day.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?! I heard the jar—”
Helen’s eyes widened in shock looking at the handsome young man clad in his civilian uniform made up of a plain white t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots, her blood pressure promptly climbing at the unexpected sight.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” she shrieked as she hasitly made her way towards the door, “Showing up out of thin air. You said you wouldn’t be back until March!”
“Mission ended much earlier than expected. I thought I could spend my time off with my favorite girls,” Chris reluctantly let you go for another big hug in the making, “but I can go if you’d rather—”
“Shush, you! Come here.”
Oh, the sight of a mother reuniting with her son… This. If there was a singular silver lining to the torture that was Chris being gone, it was this right there. Even though Helen was quietly sobbing in his chest, your heart was so full it was about to burst.
“Come, now, milady,” he gently wiped her tears with a comforting smile, “No tears allowed when I’m here, yeah?”
“Don’t tell me what to do, brat! God, I’m so glad you’re safe and sound,” she pulled him close again, then nailed her boy to the chair in the kitchen as you two started preparing a lightning-fast dinner accompanied by his stories.
Chris’ job description came with a bunch of potentially fatal risks, but it didn’t stop you from being worried sick as if every damn day was the worst-case scenario. His eyes were still as sleep-deprived as ever, but they were at least smiling, and as long as he was healthy, maybe you could consider overlooking his bedtime problem. He was back now. He was with you. And that was all that mattered at the end of the day.
There was so much catching up to do that nobody realized how fast time flew by. Only when Helen rose to her feet to call it a night did you realize the clock was showing midnight hours.
“Alright, I’m off to bed now. Don’t stay up too late,” she toggled to mom mode again, then turned to you, “I’ll make your bed in the guest room today, okay sweetheart?”
“Oh, no need! I’ll go home after ca—”
“Nonsense!” she immediately protested, “You are staying, and we are having a feast tomorrow morning together as a family again.”
“But I shouldn—”
“I’ll put a deadbolt on the door so she can’t leave,” Chris reassured his aunt with the firmness of a drill sergeant, albeit smugly smirking at you, “She owes me a year’s worth of pancakes anyway.”
“Attaboy,” she ruffled his hair lovingly and bade you two goodnight.
Chris was finally home. Of course it was going to be a good night even if the world was ending the morning after.
“I’ll go take a shower,” he stood up as well, “Meet you upstairs in a bit?”
You retreated to his room to change into your nightwear from the day before. This particular corner of the house always took you back to when you were a bunch of kids running around the neighborhood looking for birds, but it was fascinating how much of a difference Chris’ physical presence made. When he was away, the room felt gigantic but tighter than a coffin at the same time. You would start having trouble breathing just being in it for three seconds, drowning yourself in the sweet pain of nostalgia and getting crushed under the weight of love you had for him. You didn’t know why you were willingly hurting yourself to this extent; maybe it was the only way for you to feel alive in his absence, but when he was home…
Oh, when he was home…
There was no place on earth that was cozier. It was an everlasting carnival where cotton candies made of happiness were sold. The thrill of the roller coasters constantly rushed through your veins.
It was pure heaven.
“Have you been sleeping in my room?”
Chris’ voice echoed like a record scratch, immediately stopping you from internally kicking your feet. You flinched in your place, feeling guilty for some reason like you got caught red-handed doing something utterly shameful.
“W–What?”
“It smells like you in here,” he sniffed the air as he was drying his hair with a towel, “Also you’re using my favorite shirt as a nightgown.”
“Shut up, I spilled tomato sauce on mine!”
He burst into toned-down laughter, tousling your hair to annoy you further. The chain of his necklace peeked through the collar of his t-shirt, and it took everything in your willpower to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot. You had the pendant of two little chickadees custom-made and gave it to him before his very first deployment. All these years later he was still wearing it.
So many butterflies were holding hands and doing a line dance in your stomach that you were about to combust.
“Okay, Falcon, you’re gonna tell me everything now.”
“Sure, would you like me to share classified tactical plans, too?” he sat cross-legged on the bed across from you, leaning against the headboard.
“You know what I mean! There has to be some stuff you couldn’t say in front of Aunt Helen,” you slapped his bare arm, “How are you? How is your insomnia? Are you eating all your meals? Did you g—?”
“Breathe, Chickadee,” he held your hands and gave them a firm squeeze, “One at a time.”
Your heart beat so hard in your chest that you were pretty sure it looked like a hiccup.
He started answering your questions, but you couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying at all courtesy of your limbic system abruptly taking over the microphone. The orange glow emitting from the nightstand lamp was casting a somewhat sultry spotlight on him, unnecessarily pointing out some changes in his physique. His sunkissed skin was stretched tight over his now bulkier body, and unless your eyes were deceiving you, his shoulders had somehow gotten broader and his thighs looked a lot thicker. One look at the bulging veins on his arms, and your mind rendered an unsolicited mental picture for you in 4K, depicting him doing bench presses half-naked.
Oh, he looked gooood.
“Are you listening?” he lowered his head to hold your gaze.
“HUH? Y–Yeah,” you shook your head to snap out of it.
“What were you thinking about that intensely?”
You in your uniform but topless, would be the correct answer, but you hadn’t lost your mind that bad to give him the uncensored version.
“I was just thinking you must be a hit with the officers in your fleet,” you told him instead.
“How do you figure?”
“I mean…” you gestured in his general direction, “You got quite the eye candy situation going on. I’d look forward to going to work if it were me.”
He narrowed his eyes and slightly tilted his head with a barely there smile. By your usually levelheaded standards, this would be considered straight up bold, and Chris was clearly loving the change in demeanor.
“Yeah?” he clasped his hands under his nape, posture way too cocky for no reason, “Would you fall for me if you saw me in the locker room?”
“Oh, christ, I totally forgot you can’t take compliments like a normal human being,” you slapped your forehead.
“Would you gossip about me with other officers?”
“Chris…”
“Would you tell them I’m very bangable?”
“Cut it out!”
You lunged at him as a knee-jerk response to put a stopper to his giggle fit. You didn’t have any intention to legitimately hurt him, so it naturally scared you when he suddenly hissed in pain.
“I’m sorry! Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s nothing,” he pulled on the collar of his top as if to hide something, but it was very much in vain.
You had already caught a sliver of what you prayed to be an optical illusion.
“What is this?” you tried to remove his fingers, “Did you… Did you get hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t the question,” you grabbed the hem of his shirt.
“Let it go, it’s noth—”
“Stop squirming!”
In one swift move, you took his shirt off. There were remains of a stitched wound there, and it looked like it had been healing for a while now.
“W–What happened to you?”
“It’s just a scratch,” he shrugged it off and tried to put his shirt back on clearly as an attempt to avoid confrontation, but you immediately stopped him because…
One of the chickadees on the pendant seemed slightly disfigured and discolored.
The one on the left…
“Is this… a gun wound?” deep creases formed between your brows upon the unpleasant realization.
“Shh, keep your voice down,” he abruptly sat up and covered your mouth.
“Were you in combat? DID YOU GET IN—?”
“Look at me. Look at me. I’m fine,” he held your face to force you to look at him before you started spiraling, pacifying you with a warm smile, “It was just an accident during training, so don’t worry about it, okay?”
Your quickening breathing took a U-turn, and you chose to believe him because the alternative was simply too unbearable to even think about. You hesitantly touched around the still somewhat raw skin.
“Does it… hurt too much?”
“Nothing I can’t manage,” he held your hand over his wound.
You didn’t know what came over you. As you were staring at the scar, you instinctively leaned forward and gently kissed it, and your lips lingered there for quite a bit. Chris had heard of the term kissing it better before, but he had never believed it would actually work.
Until now.
“I will worry,” you retreated, averting your eyes away from him, “I already worry all the time wondering if you’re safe. I worry if you—”
You stopped. Otherwise you were going to cry.
“Didn’t know you liked me that much, Chickadee,” he teased like he always did to disperse the dark clouds whenever you were sad.
“Well, you’d better, stupid!”
His smile shapeshifted then. This time he leaned forward and held your face, looking at you with so much adoration in his eyes.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why I wanted to become a pilot?” he asked as his thumb caressed your cheek.
“Because you thought you’d be Ironman.”
“Well, that, too,” he quietly chuckled, “When we were kids, you would drag me around the neighborhood every time you spotted a chickadee. I’ve never seen someone this enamored by those fluffballs.”
“Because they’re so cute!”
“They are,” he quickly agreed, but his voice carried the fragrance of defeat for some reason, “But you seemed to like them more than me.”
This time for sure it looked like you had a hiccup. You didn’t know what to do with yourself at all.
“I worry, too, you know,” he pulled his hand back and started playing with his fingers, “I worry you will forget about me one of these days. I worry you will give your heart to someone, and—”
He stopped. Otherwise he was going to cry.
“I wanted to learn how to fly for you,” his smile was broken enough to shatter your heart, “Maybe you would like me just as much then.”
You were stunned.
What was he even saying? What kind of nonsense was maybe you would like him? Maybe. Had his prolonged lack of oxygen somehow managed to blind him, or were your performances for him to take the hint much more applauseworthy than you intended?
All the words that insisted on eluding you finally decided to come back home, and you started speaking before you could form coherent sentences in your brain.
“They say people are immune to their own scents but not to others’,” you reflected his broken smile back at him, hoping yours would be able to complete his, “I do sleep here a lot. It’s crazy how it still hasn’t vanished by now, but every time I walk in, it still smells like you. It feels like we’re still hiding under the blankets together when I close my eyes.”
Your words helped him find a bit of courage to look up at you. His gaze was filled with pleasant surprise. He prayed to everything he could think of that you weren’t just saying these things because he was feeling something very dangerously close to hope again. He tried. God knows he tried so hard not to hold onto even a shred of it, but every time he resolved to give up, you would do something, say something, or just breathe the same air as him, exist under the same sky, and everything would come rushing back to him.
Everything.
“It feels like you’re hugging me when I wear your t-shirts,” a single tear let itself fall free down your cheek as you assumed your best impression of a smile, “I can’t bring myself to wear them often. I’m scared your scent will fade away.”
His brows were furrowed as if he was mad, but his eyes were welled up with tears. Oh, you were cruel. You were so cruel for not telling him any of this sooner. And he was a coward for telling you how much he loved you only when you were sleeping. He was unbelievably selfish for hating the idea of you moving on with your life, but he couldn’t help it. The only way he knew how to love you was with destructive greed.
Would you have said yes to him if he asked for ownership of your heart? Would you despise him if he begged you to have eyes for him only?
Would you slam the door to his face or take a step back to invite him in if he asked to hold your hand for an eternity?
“I have no heart left to give. Someone already stole it,” you reached for his hands and squeezed them way too hard than you should have, “How can I ever forget you when you’re the only thing on my mind?”
Chris didn’t know why he was getting hiccups all of a sudden.
Did you know how many mountains he had to carry on his back since he was fifteen? Did you know they only multiplied when he turned twenty three? Did you know it didn’t lessen the burden one bit when he soared as high as he could, even to the point of defying gravity?
One hesitant kiss loaded with a crippling fear of loss, and everything he had kept locked away for so long ripped their chains apart.
His soul was being tortured every time he was away from you, loudly withering, yearning for its missing piece, calling out to it in heart-wrenching pleas to have mercy and come make him whole again. He was living half a life without you. He was only half a man.
He heard something click when he held the first girl he ever loved in his arms. It fit. It fit better than a puzzle piece.
He finally felt complete.
“I miss you. I miss you every minute of every day,” he breathily whispered into your lips, “I’m dying when you are far away.”
He would be lying if he never once imagined you naked, but his imagination just did not compare to what he witnessed when he stripped you bare. Your skin. The curves on your body. He wanted to set up camp in each of them and dedicate weeks to fully exploring you. He pulled you under him, still completely incredulous you were actually in his bed like he always pictured you to be, and took in the sight for a while.
You were beautiful under that soft orange light.
You reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, and he let you drag it down, watching you tease yourself with how slow you were taking it. The silent groan you let out at the sight was complete music to his ears. How could you not? His gorgeous figure hovering over you, his girth threateningly swollen, his mouth watering staring at your nakedness as bad as you were salivating over his.
Trying to decide whether you wanted him to pass through you right fucking now or worship you all night was the worst dilemma you had ever faced in your life.
He lowered himself on your lips first, picking up where he left off as his hands sketched an outline of your body, committing every single nook and cranny to memory. It was a slow descent down to your jawline, then to your breasts, then all the way into insanity. Each kiss he left behind as he made his way between your legs felt like a brand was scorching your skin. Your breathing was fully irregular when he made it to his destination and wrapped his arms around your thighs.
“Do I ever pop into your mind?” you ran your fingers through his hair, “When you’re… by yourself.”
“Are you asking me if I’m jerking off to you?”
You nodded fervently while biting into your lips. He placed three kisses on your pussy, one before, one during, and one after his answer.
“Every… day.”
“How do you imagine me?” you pressed further.
“In my bed. In the shower with me. Even in the jet sometimes.”
“How’s that gonna work?” you let out a soft chuckle.
“It’s called a cockpit for a reason,” he spoke matter-of-factly, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you in there.”
“While flying at an insane speed?”
“On the ground, know-it-all,” he grazed his teeth on your thighs as a warning, “I’m the one who’s allowed to make you fly, not the plane.”
He wrapped his lips around your clit, and you almost let out a suspiciously loud sound when he started sucking on it. You sank deeper into the pillow in rapture when he got messy, slurping all over your pussy like he wanted to see for himself how much more you could ooze.
“Do you think about me at all?” he asked in between his sloppy kisses.
“Are you asking me if I fuck myself to you?”
He slowly nodded, swirling his tongue around your clit as he stared right into your soul, and while his tongue worked absolute wonders on your flesh, that intense gaze was what was about to make you cum. His eyes were screaming his lust for you, ablaze with an insatiable appetite.
“Every… night,” you dragged on each syllable.
“How do I fuck you in your fantasies?”
“God, you fucking ruin me,” you threw your head back and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, pressing his face closer into your cunt.
You started riding his face when he started licking you deeper, but you were aching to feel something inside you. Maybe it was because of how hard you were throbbing, or maybe you somehow managed to form telepathy through gustatory sense, but mere moments later Chris was shoving his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, getting them properly wet and slippery, then gently prodding your entrance like a warning shot.
“Like this?”
“FU—!”
You had to press a pillow on your face to stop yourself from screaming at the last second. His tongue was still hard at work, licking illegible words all over your pussy while his fingers were beckoning for your doom, pushing you dangerously close to the ledge. A line. A line. A line. A circle. A curve. Wet.
Wet.
Wet.
An unfamiliar and muffled noise escaped your lips as you arched into his mouth, tasting sweeter than citrus jam on his tongue, and if Chris was touching himself, he would legitimately cum when those sounds of pleasure hit his ears. He was having the hardest time deciding whether he found it cute or extremely erotic. He obscenely licked his fingers clean, then climbed back up to kiss you.
“Is it… Is it true?” you flashed him a fucked out smile.
“What is?”
“Do I really save a plane if I ride a pilot?”
“Let’s just say that you do,” he joined the curls of your lips with an amused chortle.
“Then the Air Force is about to be very grateful for me,” you mustered all your strength to straddle him.
You had always imagined what it would feel like when you finally had him disappear into you, but none of those daydreams could have prepared you for the stars you saw when he hit that dead end inside you. He put his hands on your hips and started rolling them, letting you have your way with him to your heart’s content. It was as lazy as a Sunday morning, allowing you to feel every inch of him fully. You felt his palm pressing on the small of your back, lowering you to kiss him again. You couldn’t tell how and when he hijacked control, but he was holding you in place to fuck into you. A little faster. A little harder. Soaking him as much as he soaked you.
“Fuck… Under me.”
You found yourself on your back, your legs on his shoulders as he paved such a deep path into you that he was quite literally marking his territory. Trapping himself in your leg lock, he leaned a bit more forward, then held both your hands while kissing your life out of you.
“I’ll cum if you say you love me,” he panted hard, eyes barely open as he chased his high at full speed.
If you said you loved him… A simple I love you could not do justice to the mythological extent of your feelings for him. You held his face in your hands and crowned your best kept secret with a kiss.
“I’ve been ridiculously in love with you for fifteen fucking years.”
Chris didn’t cum; he was reborn deep inside you. Each drop that mixed with your essence, each tremor that passed through his body glued the pieces of his shattered soul back together. Each kiss you placed on his face soothed a part of his charred heart that he used to believe was beyond saving.
He fell deeper in love with you, never ever to resurface again.
As his feet were about to touch the ground, he pulled you close and started counting the circles you were drawing on his chest. You reached for his necklace and started playing with it.
“Do you always wear this?” you asked him, gently rubbing your thumb on the pendant.
“I even kiss it goodnight hoping you will feel it someday,” he responded while caressing your hair.
“So that was you tickling me in my sleep.”
Your tired chuckles melted into each other, but it didn’t take long for yours to take an unexpected leave of absence. Your mood turned somber all of a sudden when you remembered the inevitable.
“When are you…? When are you leaving again?”
Your anticipated answer was somewhere around March, but certainly not…
“I won’t go if you ask me to stay.”
Even if it was only for less than a second, the sparks that flew from those words were dangerous enough to set you on fire. You knew it didn’t work that way. Of course he was going to leave. He had to. No one threw a lifetime’s worth of hard work into the trash for any reason.
But it didn’t stop you from pleading your deepest desire to him anyway.
“Don’t go, Falcon,” you hugged him tighter and buried your face in the crook of his neck.
“Fine, I won’t.”
“Don’t joke about it,” you responded from your hideout, “It’s painful enough as it is.”
“I’m not joking.”
You suddenly lifted your head and stared at his face. It had better not be a fucking joke because there was nothing funny about a looming heart attack.
“Wh–What do you mean?”
“The girl of my dreams is asking me to sta—”
“Be serious!” you snapped at him with a very loud whisper, “You didn’t… resign or anything, right?”
“Nope.”
“Then?”
You knew this play. He always grinned like that when he was sitting on some juicy news. You raised your brows, expecting him to give an answer before you became the first person to assault a military officer for dragging on suspense.
“I got stationed here,” he finally satisfied your curiosity, ending your life just a little bit in the process.
You stared at him blankly for some time, utterly unable to process the piece of information he just dropped on you. So this entire time… when you thought you were holding on to him for dear life…
Just how hard were you holding on that you managed to nail him in his goddamn place?
“Couldn’t you have told me that when you first walked through the door?!”
“I was going to!” he immediately raised his hands to surrender, “I just got… distracted a little bit.”
You couldn’t help it. The feeling of relief was so overwhelming that you lost complete control of your tear glands, but not because of your longing for the days that were never going to come back. Not because of the pity you had for yourself, relentlessly chasing something that could never be yours.
It was out of unmitigated happiness for once.
“You’re my home, Chickadee,” he pressed his forehead against yours, “I’m home now.”
He kissed your tears away and pulled you into a tight embrace, brushing your hair with one hand as his idle one locked his fingers within yours. You lent your ear to his chest and listened to his heart, calm and steady like a homebound contrail drawn in the sky by a jet plane somewhere.
“Welcome home, Falcon,” you mumbled with a smile, drifting to sleep in your home for the first time.
Summary: As the year ends, you are scrolling through your photos. But you realise that you and chan have growth apart over the years. With that, chan comes home. And a conversation happens when you realise you couldn’t recognise him or a second.
Genre: Angst/slight fluff/ a bit crack if you squint
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: cursing, (I don’t think there is anything else, but if you find it please tell me!)
Writer’s note: This is my first time ever writing anything sooo bare with me here. I did proofread this by myself but if I missed anything let me know. Feedback is welcome! I hope y’all enjoy this little something created from a thought I had. Also, condolences to SK for the accident yesterday. And give your loved ones a hug, it’s almost 2025!
———————
The four years with Chan has been a blessing and a curse. Throughout those four years, you’ve been there for the ups and downs of both his and his team’s lives. From Hyunjin’s suddenly hiatus to different comebacks and now being a “First Act In History” group. But for you and chan, it’s been the same yet so different.
The both of you still have this little tradition of movie nights, whereas now the date is always changing to fit into chan’s tight schedule. You both still go on the trips with the kids before every comeback, just not every single one. You still visit chan in his studio even at the weirdest times, just not as often. Now as you sit on your bed in your shared bedroom scrolling through your photos as the year is ending, you start to realise just how far you’ve grown apart. From the constant rise of popularity of the group to the sudden changes of chan’s schedule, the time spent together has lessened and lessened. Turning to your right, you realise that his spot on the bed has grown cold. As you try to think, when was the last time he was home with you? When was the last time you shared a face to face moment, a meal, a date, even just a simple talk apart from good mornings,simply greeting or a few texts throughout the entire day. A ache started to form in your heart.
Just as you got lost in thought wondering when it started to go downhill, the long forgotten sound of his keys jingling and the door unlocking snapped you out of it. As you stood up to go greet chan, your eyes caught something shiny to your left. Oh, our matching bracelets. Had I taken it off? As u reached to grab it, you looked at the clock. 03:38. Is it that late already? Huh. As you start making your way out of your room, you hear the voice of the man you loved with your whole heart. “Babe, I’m ho-“ You hear him stop halfway. Knowing him, he probably suddenly realised the time and stopped thinking you were asleep.
As you hear him shuffling around, you step out of the corridor to say hi. But as you look at the man in front of you, the words got stuck in your throat. The only thing u managed was a gasp. Chan’s head snapped up at the noise, eyes wide as he looked at you. “Babe? Why are you still awake? It’s so late.”
But you can’t talk, you’re just stuck in place looking at the man in front of you. “Babe, you ok? Why are you looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost or something.” He chuckled softly, hands reaching up to rub behind his neck. You were in shock, too stunned to even reply.
You slowly make you way to him, “Babe you’re scaring me. Are you ok? I missed y-“ You stopped him halfway through his sentence as you cupped his face, your eyes roaming across his features, taking him in. You bring your hands down to rest on his shoulder. They’ve become so much wider than you remembered. “You, you’ve changed.” You start softly, looking back into his eyes again. For a fleeing second you couldn’t recognise him. His eye bags have grown deeper, exhaustion all over his face, his shoulders have gotten so much wider, he has gotten so much bigger. Has his hair grown longer too? As you looked at his curls, you slowly run your fingers through his hair. He let out a sigh. As he looked down at you, “Works been hectic lately, from the tour to the recent comeback. I guess I just didn’t rest a lot.” He said softly. You looked him in the eyes as you feel your tears starting to brew. No, stay strong. You’re finally seeing him after, after. How long? This is not the time to cry. You told yourself. “No I meant. You changed, physically. I almost didn’t recognise you for a second.” A silent message passed between the two of you, I haven’t seen you in so long that I couldn’t even recognise you. He stood there frozen, something flashed through his eyes. “I-l’m sorry. I guess I was just too caught up with work I just-“ “No I get it, it’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home again.” You spoke up, smiling at him weakly. His eyes were sad mixed with confusion. “Again? Baby you’re being silly. I was home just a few da-“ He froze. You slowly moved back, letting out a sad chuckle. “You can’t remember? Maybe you could use some rest. But seriously Chan it’s fine, you’ve been busy. I get it. I’m used to the bed being cold anyways.” He flinched, looking up at you. But before he could say anything, you started, “Want something to eat? Knowing you, you probably skipped meals again.” You chuckled, or at least, a sound somewhere along those lines.
You started to move to the kitchen to cook him something to eat, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into an embrace. He slowly patted your hair hesitantly. “Enlightened me when was the last time I was home, please. Or the last time we had a date, a meal?” His voice slowly getting smaller. “Please, just. Anything.” He cupped your face as he looked deep into your eyes, searching for something. You wanted to say something, but the only time you remembered actually having a good look at him or even having a proper conversation was maybe 2 months ago on his birthday. You stood there, trying to reassure him with something recent. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell a lie you know fully well is far from the truth. You could see his face flashed with hurt, tears starting to form on his waterline. Your heart cracked. You loved this man far more than you could have ever imagined loving someone. And yet somehow, you’ve grown accustomed to being far away from him. But you still smiled at him, leaning up to give him a peck. “It’s fine. Just let it go, it’s no big deal. What do you want to eat. Eggs? Ramen?” You slowly slipped out from his embrace and quickly turning around before you got an answer. You can’t let your mask crack when he is already so tired. He doesn’t need another thing to worry about.
You know he doesn’t mean to stay away. His job meant everything to him. The kids, STAYs, you will never know what is like to carry that big of a burden and expectations on your shoulders all the time. So you just let him do his thing, settling on a simple video call or texting throughout the day. Because seeing his hard work pay off, his smile while performing, receiving awards, breaking records meant everything to you. Seeing him in his nature made you so proud of him, even if it meant sacrificing some of your time spent together for the sake of it. You quickly wiped your tears away and started fixing up some ramen for him.
-Time skip-
“Hey, come eat when it’s still hot” You call out to chan. As you dish up the ramen. “Chan? Come eat” You called out again, but you didn’t hear anything. So you put the ramen on the table and walked over to the living room to look for him. When you turned the corner and saw his figure on the sofa you tried calling him again. But stopped midway as your registered how he was. He was sitting on the sofa with his elbows on his knees and his head buried in his hands.
“Hey hey are you ok? Do you want to sleep instead? I can-“ He shook his head, “no i-it’s fine, I’ll go eat.” His voice soft, but he couldn’t hide the slight rasps and sadness in his voice. “Hey, talk to me? Is something wrong? Has work been too stressful? Or are the kids being too much to handle again” You ask, trying to skip over the obvious elephant in the room, as you move to kneel in front of him, taking his hands away from digging into his eyes and into your hands. “You know I’m here when you need me, and you can tell me anything. So what’s going on big guy.”
He couldn’t bring himself to look at you and sobbed when he heard the pet name. “I’m so s-sorry y/n. I-l-l feel like I’ve let you down. You’re always there for me when I need you and you’re always just a call away. But l-l can’t even be home with you. I’m not there to hold you when you sleep, I’m not there to listen to your problems, I’m not even here to listen to you talk about your day. I-I’m here so little to the point you don’t even recognise me anymore. How is that ok?” As he talked, his voice got louder until he was borderline shouting.
You flinched at the sudden outburst. He looked up at you, tears rolling down his face, red linings his eyes. He whispered, “how is that ok?” You gave a sad smile and gripped his hand tightly. “Chan, remember when I said I’d be there for you, no matter how you are, where you are, or who you’ve become?” He gave a weak nod. You continued, “As long as you’re mine and I’m yours. Nothing is going to change that. And I’m never letting you go, ever. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to date you, I knew how hectic your schedules can get, and I knew how busy you are. But every single time I come back to you. Because I love you, I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much to the point where I can’t even imagine what life would be without you. I love you so much that words nor actions can express what I feel for you. And I love you so much that seeing you happy and doing what you love and do best makes me happy too, even if I’m cheering from far away. Every couple has their own ups and downs, we just have to make it through together.”
You take his face into your hands as you look him deep in the eyes. To try and convey your love and reassurance. “Chan, I say it’s ok because I’ll never understand the stress and burden you have, or how you are constantly being pressured under piles and piles of deadlines, expectations and work. I say it’s ok because you are doing what you love. I say it’s ok because I know no matter what you’d drop everything and anything in a heartbeat if I ever needed you, and that is enough for me. I can’t be the one who becomes an obstacle in between you and your love, your passion. The fact that you still take the time out of your day to text me and check in on me is more than enough. And don’t you dare tell me I’m settling for too little, I knew what I got myself into when I fell for you, when I chose to date you. You being you is enough. Yes, I haven’t seen you in god knows how long to the point I ALMOST couldn’t recognise you. But I know you’re doing what you can, and that is why this is ok. Yes, I’m sad that I don’t remember when the last time we had a date was, when was the last time I slept in your arms. But right now, having you here with me. This is more than enough, and that’s all I ask for right now. Is to spend the little time you have together.” You pour your heart out and lay it bare in front of the man who means everything to you. You slowly wipe his tears off his face while he just stares at you. You can see in his eyes the love and affection he has for you. “Fuck y/n, what did I even do to deserve you. I’m never home, I’m never here with you. And yet you are still here with me. Why don’t you just-“ “Shh, don’t talk about nonsense. I told you, I’m never ever leaving you. Ever. And that’s final.” You stand up, bring him along with you. “But Chan, I need you to promise me something. Just one tiny thing.” He sniffs and nods. “I know your schedule is hectic, but I just want you to try. To try to be home more often, at least once a week. And to take care of yourself, stop staying up so late and skipping meals. It’s not healthy.” You say with a smile on your face as you slide your arms around his neck. “Can you do that?” He takes a breath and pulls you impossibly closer to him. “I swear on everything I’ll try, I’ll try to be better for you. I’ll come home more often and earlier. I’ll take you out on dates and do things you love with you too. To make up for lost times, yeah? I’m sorry y/n, I didn’t even realise how I’ve been neglecting you. I was too caught up on improving and getting more opportunities for the kids I completely neglected the one person I love and care for the most. I really am sorry.” He looks down at you with so much love and determination in his eyes that makes everything around you start to blur, as if everything disappeared on earth except the two of you.
But suddenly you remembered something snapping you two out of your tiny bubble. “Oh shit! I left your noodles! Fuck they’re probably all soggy now. I’ll go make a new one for you, I’ll just eat it.” As you turned to run into the kitchen. You hear chan’s lighthearted and whiny laugh. “It’s fine! You’re too good for me l swear. I’ll just eat it, it shouldn’t be that bad. I can’t have you eat that while I enjoy something else.” As he runs into the kitchen to stop you from cooking something else again. “Fuck, I love you so much. How did I even get you.” Chan whispers, and starts laughing at you trying to protest on making him a new one. “Let go of m-! Christopher stop tickling m- CHRISTOPHER!” “You look so cute when you laugh. Hey! Comeback! Im not done with you!”
As laughter fills the once quiet and empty apartment. Everything seems to be falling into place again. The love and warmth slowly creeps back into place around this little apartment. Unbeknownst to the both of you, this night was just the start of a new chapter that the both of you will be exploring together. And a step closer to something great that is to come.
-End-
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Heyy, I hope you liked reading this. If you want to give any feedback, please do!
Have a great day and I hope 2025 treats you well<3
