I have put a lot of effort into writing these fan-fictions, and I take great pride in the work I have put in to make them as enjoyable as possible. I want everyone to have a good time reading them, so I urge you to read the warning before you start so that you know what to expect. I hope you enjoy the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them. Please remember to leave a like or reblog if you have the time, as it would mean a lot to me. Thank you!
Content warning: This story is a new adult/college sports romance and contains mature themes intended for readers 18+. It includes explicit language, detailed sexual tension, innuendo, power dynamics, alcohol use, party culture, and eventual explicit sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
The list will be added once chapters with warning content occur.
Dedication: "This one goes out to all the readers who dreamed of becoming something greater — to the ones who stayed up late chasing impossible goals, who pushed through doubt and setbacks, who quietly believed they could rise above the noise. Whether you're still fighting for your dream or finally living it, this story is for you. Keep becoming."
Part one Part two
“Holy shit, Cap, that defense was awesome today,” Jeongin said, slapping my shoulder as he walked into the locker room.
“Chan!” Coach Keller’s voice boomed across the room. “My office. Now!”
The guys kept chatting and laughing, but I felt the shift in energy. I’d been expecting this for months. I wiped the sweat from my face, grabbed my hoodie, and headed toward Coach’s office with a knot already forming in my stomach.
Coach Keller closed the door behind me and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat, son… we have to talk.”
I dropped into the chair, trying to look more relaxed than I felt. These conversations always went the same way: grades slipping, NHL doesn’t mean you can slack off, blah blah blah. But the look on his face told me this one might be different.
“Son,” he started, leaning back in his chair, “imagine my surprise when I wake up this morning, scroll through Instagram, and see Jeongin doing a kegstand in what looks very much like your living room.”
Holy fucking shit.
My stomach dropped. “Uh… are you sure it’s Jeongin?” I tried, knowing how weak it sounded the second it left my mouth.
Coach gave me the flattest look I’d ever seen. “Kid, I’ve been coaching you for three years. I know what your troublemaker roommate looks like upside down in your house at two in the morning.” He rubbed his temple like I was personally aging him. “Chan, your grades are tanking. You’re missing assignments. You showed up to morning skate yesterday smelling like a damn brewery. This isn’t just about hockey anymore. You’re risking your eligibility.”
I opened my mouth but he held up a hand, cutting me off.
“I’m not benching you. Not yet. But I’m not letting you flush your future down the toilet either.” He opened a folder on his desk and slid a paper across to me. “You’re getting a class monitor. Someone who’s going to sit in on your lectures, check your assignments, and keep your ass accountable until your grades are back where they need to be.”
I blinked. “A babysitter?”
“Call it whatever you want. Her name’s Thea. Smart as hell, reliable, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone—especially not cocky hockey captains. She’s already been notified. You’ll meet her tomorrow before your 10 a.m. bio lecture. Don’t be late.”
Thea.
I didn’t know her personally, but I’d seen her around campus. Quiet. Always carrying a stack of books. The complete opposite of the chaos that lived in my house.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “Coach, come on. I don’t need—”
“You do,” he said firmly. “And if you fight me on this, I’ll make it a condition of you staying on the ice. Your choice, Chan.”
I exhaled through my nose, jaw tight. “Yes, Coach.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now get out of here and get some rest. And for the love of God, keep the parties at someone else’s house next time.”
I stood up, feeling the weight of the conversation settle on my shoulders as I headed back toward the locker room.
Thea as my class monitor, you have got to be kidding me.
By the time I got home, the house was already loud. Music thumped from the living room, and I could hear Jeongin laughing his ass off over something. The place smelled like leftover pizza and whatever cheap beer Han had bought in bulk again. Normally I’d just drop my shit and join them. Tonight I felt like I was walking into a minefield.
I kicked the front door shut behind me and dropped my bag. All four of them were sprawled across the couches Jeongin, Hyunjin, Han, and Minho, playing some stupid video game on the big screen.
“Cap’s home!” Han called out without looking up. “You see that sick block I posted about on Insta? Coach is gonna love me.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, already exhausted. “Turn that shit off for a second. We need to talk.”
Minho paused the game immediately, eyebrows raised. The others slowly turned toward me, sensing the shift in my tone.
Jeongin grinned. “Uh oh. Someone’s in trouble.”
“Yeah. Me.” I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “Coach called me in after practice. He saw your kegstand, Jeongin. On Instagram. At two in the morning. In our living room.”
Jeongin’s face dropped. “Shit.”
“Shit is right,” I continued. “My grades are tanking. I’ve been showing up to skate hungover. He’s not benching me yet, but he’s got me on a short leash.”
Hyunjin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So what’s the verdict? Curfew? Extra drills?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Worse. I’ve got a fucking babysitter. Some girl named Thea. Professor Ramirez recommended her. She’s gonna sit in on my lectures, check my assignments, keep my ass accountable. I meet her tomorrow before bio.”
The room went dead silent for half a second before all four of them exploded.
“A girl?” Han sat up straight, eyes wide with glee. “Like, actual female supervision?”
“Bro, that’s brutal,” Jeongin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “We’re sorry, Cap. We’ll chill on the parties”
“No, you won’t just ‘chill,’” I cut him off. “We’re done hosting for a while. No more parties at this house. Not until my grades are back up and Coach is off my back. Take it somewhere else. I can’t risk another Instagram story fucking me over.”
Minho whistled low. “Damn. So this Thea girl… she hot at least?”
I shot him a glare, but the question hit too close. Flashbacks of the quiet, sharp-tongued girl I’d seen around campus popped into my head. The one who always looked like she had her entire life perfectly organized.
“Doesn’t matter if she’s hot,” I muttered. “She’s my monitor. Meaning she’s gonna be up my ass every day making sure I don’t fail. Last thing I need is you idiots throwing ragers while she’s reporting back to Coach.”
Hyunjin smirked, clearly reading something on my face. “You’re already stressed about her. That’s new.”
“I’m stressed because this could end my season,” I snapped, pushing off the wall. “So do me a favor and don’t make it worse. Take the parties to the soccer house or wherever. I’m serious.”
Han saluted dramatically. “Yes, Captain. House party ban activated.”
Jeongin looked genuinely guilty. “We got you, Chan. We’ll keep it lowkey here. Or… not here.”
I nodded, some of the tension easing. “Good. Now I’m gonna go ice my shoulder and try not to think about some straight-A girl holding my hockey career in her hands.”
As I headed toward the stairs, Minho called after me, amused. “Hey, maybe she’s cute. Could be fun.”
I didn’t answer. Because the worst part was… I already knew she was cute. And after tomorrow, I was going to be stuck with her whether I liked it or not.
This story is a new adult/college sports romance and contains mature themes intended for readers 18+. It includes explicit language, detailed sexual tension, innuendo, power dynamics, alcohol use, party culture, and eventual explicit sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
The list will be added once chapters with warning content occur.
Dedication:
"This one goes out to all the readers who dreamed of becoming something greater — to the ones who stayed up late chasing impossible goals, who pushed through doubt and setbacks, who quietly believed they could rise above the noise. Whether you're still fighting for your dream or finally living it, this story is for you. Keep becoming."
Part One
Thea
“Seriously, Iz—come on—” I head down the hall, already preparing the usual responsible roommate speech about schedules and adulting. I push open her door without thinking and freeze.
There she is, riding one of the football players she “definitely wasn’t going to bring home” from last night’s hockey party. The guy’s half-asleep with a dopey grin, and Izzy’s hair looks like it lost a fight with a tornado.
Oh my god. This is not what I needed before coffee. Or ever.
I stand there for one mortifying second. Izzy glances over, still very much… occupied, and gives me a cheerful little wave like I’d just walked in on her doing yoga.
“Morning!” she says brightly. “Five more minutes?”
My mouth opens, then closes. “Izzy. Class. There is an actual human being attached to you right now and we have places to be.”
The football player lifts his head and mumbles, “Hey.”
Hey?! my inner voice squeaks. I’m scarred for life and this man is greeting me like we’re at a barbecue.
I slam the door shut, harder than necessary, and press my forehead against it. From the other side I hear Izzy’s muffled laugh and the unmistakable sound of zero regrets continuing.
Great. Just great. I’m going to need so much therapy. Or at least a bigger bottle of eye bleach.
I shuffle back to the kitchen, pour myself a very large coffee, and call through the wall with as much dignity as I can muster.
“Izzy, if you’re not out front in ten minutes, I’m leaving without you. I’ll tell Professor Ramirez you died heroically. Maybe choking on bad decisions. Your choice!”
A few seconds later her voice floats back, slightly breathless but still way too perky: “Ten minutes! Love youuu!”
I stare into my coffee mug and sigh.
Roommate of the year, everyone. She’s going to graduate summa cum laude in chaos while I slowly lose what’s left of my sanity. And rack up a mountain of debt from all the therapy I’ll need.
Ten minutes later, miraculously, Izzy comes bouncing out of her room looking suspiciously put-together. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun that somehow works, she’s wearing my favorite hoodie (stolen, of course), and she’s got that glowing, post-workout flush that makes me want to hate her a little.
“Ready!” she announces, snatching a half-eaten granola bar from the counter like nothing happened.
I narrow my eyes at her but say nothing as the two of us head out the door and start the familiar walk across campus. The morning air is crisp, birds are chirping, and my brain is still trying to scrub the last thirty minutes from its hard drive.
We’re halfway down the block when Izzy bumps my shoulder with hers, grinning like a cat who swallowed the canary.
“So…” she starts, drawing the word out way too long. “You walked in on me getting railed and didn’t even scream. I’m proud of your growth, babe. Very mature.”
I let out a long-suffering sigh. “Izzy, I’m one more surprise dick sighting away from joining a monastery.”
She laughs, loud and bright, completely unbothered. A couple of passing students glance over, but she doesn’t care. She never does.
After a beat, she side-eyes me with that mischievous look I know too well. “You know… you’re wound up tighter than my freshman-year GPA. When’s the last time you got laid? Like, actually properly, toe-curling, can’t-walk-straight laid?”
I nearly trip over nothing. “Izzy.”
“What? It’s a valid question!” She takes a dramatic bite of the granola bar. “You’re out here acting like a stressed Victorian widow while I’m just living my best life. You need to get some. Badly. I’m worried about your health at this point. Vitamin D is important, but so is the other D—”
“Oh my god,” I groan, covering my face with one hand while still walking. My inner voice screams: This is my punishment for rooming with a chaos goblin. I should’ve known when she showed up to the lease signing with a pet snake and no moral compass.
“I’m serious!” she continues cheerfully. “That one guy from our bio class has been staring at you for weeks. Or we could go back to the hockey house this weekend. I’ll be your wingwoman. I’m an excellent wingwoman.”
“You’re a terrible wingwoman. You stole the last guy I was talking to and brought him home.”
“Details,” she waves dismissively. “That was months ago. Ancient history. Let me help you get dicked down properly so you stop looking like you want to bleach your brain every morning.”
I shake my head, fighting a reluctant smile. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” she sings, looping her arm through mine. “And you’re getting laid this semester if I have to drag you kicking and screaming into someone’s bed myself.”
Great, my inner voice mutters. Now I have a chaotic bisexual fairy godmother with no boundaries. Send help. Or a stronger coffee.
The lecture hall comes into view, and I can already see students filing in. Izzy gives my arm a squeeze. “Think about it,” she whispers conspiratorially. “You deserve to have some fun too.”
I don’t answer, but as we both slip into the back row just before Professor Ramirez starts, I can’t quite shake the tiny, traitorous thought that maybe she’s not entirely wrong.
The lecture is actually interesting for once,something about ethical frameworks in modern policy but I’m still only half-paying attention, my brain stubbornly replaying Izzy’s morning performance on loop. By the time Ramirez dismisses everyone, I’m already packing up my laptop when he calls out from the front of the hall.
“Thea? A quick word before you go?”
I freeze mid-zip. Izzy shoots me a curious look, then grins like she’s already imagining scandal. “Ooh, teacher’s pet. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she whispers, waggling her eyebrows before bouncing out with the rest of the crowd.
I make my way down to the podium, trying not to look as nervous as I feel. Professor Ramirez is in his late forties, perpetually rumpled blazer, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He’s one of the few professors who actually seems to care about his students beyond the syllabus.
“I won’t keep you long,” he says, stacking some papers. “I wanted to talk to you about mentoring. You’ve been one of the strongest students in this class consistently excellent analysis, great writing. I recommended you to the athletics department for our peer mentoring program.”
“Oh. Thanks, that’s… nice?” I shift my bag higher on my shoulder. “Who’s it for?”
He smiles, a little apologetically. “Chan Bang He’s the captain of the hockey team. Very talented kid, but he’s struggling in a couple of his courses, mine included, if I’m honest. I told Coach Keller you’d be perfect for it. You’ve got the patience and the grades.”
Chan Bang.
The name lands like a puck to the chest. I know exactly who he is…tall, stupidly good-looking, the kind of guy who walks around campus like gravity works differently for him. Hockey royalty. The same hockey house Izzy keeps dragging me toward on weekends.
I blink. “You… offered me up? Without asking?”
Ramirez has the decency to look mildly sheepish. “I know it’s presumptuous. But you mentioned in your last paper how much you enjoy breaking down complex ideas for others. I thought this might be a good fit. It’s only a few sessions a week, and there’s a small stipend. Plus, it’ll look excellent on your grad school applications.”
I open my mouth, then close it again. On one hand, extra money and a resume line. On the other hand… Chan Bang. The guy probably eats protein shakes for breakfast and has a different girl in his bed every weekend. The exact opposite of my carefully scheduled, low-drama existence.
“I’ll think about it,” I say finally, because refusing outright feels rude.
Professor Ramirez nods, clearly pleased. “Great. I’ll email you his contact info this afternoon. He’s expecting to hear from you. Thanks, Thea. I knew I could count on you.”
I manage a weak smile and head out of the lecture hall, the crisp morning air hitting me again like a reality check.
Izzy is waiting on the steps outside, scrolling on her phone. The second she sees my face she lights up. “Spill. Did he finally confess his undying love for your brilliant mind?”
I rub my temple. “Worse. He volunteered me to tutor Chan. As in, hockey captain Chan. Apparently I’m now the official savior of jocks who can’t write a coherent paragraph.”
Izzy’s jaw drops for half a second before she lets out a delighted squeal that makes two nearby squirrels flee. “Shut. Up. This is the best news I’ve heard all week. Chan? As in tall, broody, shoulders-for-days Chan? The one with the stupidly pretty eyes and the ass that defies several laws of physics?”
“Izzy.”
“You’re going to be alone with him. Multiple times a week. Tutoring. This is destiny, babe. Or at least really good foreplay.”
I groan and start walking toward our next class, but she falls into step beside me, practically vibrating with excitement.
“I’m not sleeping with him,” I say firmly.
“Sure, sure. Famous last words. Just promise me one thing…if he takes his shirt off during a study session, you have to send me photographic evidence for emotional support purposes.”
I shove her shoulder, laughing despite myself. But deep down, that tiny traitorous thought from earlier is back, louder now.
This story is a new adult/college sports romance and contains mature themes intended for readers 18+. It includes explicit language, detailed sexual tension, innuendo, power dynamics, alcohol use, party culture, and eventual explicit sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
The list will be added once chapters with warning content occur.
Dedication:
"This one goes out to all the readers who dreamed of becoming something greater — to the ones who stayed up late chasing impossible goals, who pushed through doubt and setbacks, who quietly believed they could rise above the noise. Whether you're still fighting for your dream or finally living it, this story is for you. Keep becoming."
Chan
"Oh fuck," I groan deeply, my voice rough with pent-up need. Gracie's warm, wet mouth slides up and down my thick cock with eager, practiced strokes, her tongue swirling around the swollen head every time she pulls back. College has been a brutal grind lately endless practices, brutal games, and exams that make my head throb. Right now, though, all that stress is melting away thanks to this eager little puck bunny on her knees between my spread thighs.
"That's it, Stacy—fuck, just like that," I moan, my hips bucking up instinctively.
The pleasure suddenly vanishes as she pulls off with an audible, wet pop, strings of spit still connecting her swollen lips to my glistening shaft.
"Uh... my name is Gracie," she says, that sharp, offended tone cutting through the hazy bass thumping from the party upstairs.
I blink, still hazy with lust, my cock twitching angrily in the cool basement air. "That's what I said, didn't I?" I reply with a lazy shrug, trying to play it cool like I always do. It's not the first time I've mixed up a name mid-blowjob, and it sure as hell won't be the last.
"No, you called me Stacy," she snaps, rising to her feet and planting her hands on her hips. Her perky tits are still out, nipples hard from the cool air and earlier attention, lipstick smeared messily around her mouth. The dim string lights in the hockey house basement cast soft shadows over her flushed skin, making her look even hotter when she's pissed.
I smirk, not bothering to cover myself. My heavy cock stands proudly, veined and slick with her saliva, bobbing with every heartbeat. I lean back further into the worn leather couch, legs spread wide in arrogant comfort.
"Gracie, Stacy... whatever, babe," I say, flashing her the same cocky grin that gets me out of trouble on and off the ice. "You gonna stand there pouting with those pretty tits out, or are you gonna finish what you started? I've got practice at six tomorrow and I need to drain these balls so I can actually sleep tonight."
Her mouth falls open in disbelief, eyes wide. For a second, real annoyance flashes across her face. "Wow. You're actually serious right now?" she huffs, cheeks burning brighter. "I've been sucking your dick for ten minutes straight and you can't even get my name right?"
I roll my eyes and wrap my fist around my throbbing length, stroking it slowly from base to tip right in front of her, making sure she watches every lazy pump. "Look, you're fucking hot, and that mouth felt incredible. But if you're gonna throw a tantrum every time I slip up, there's fifteen other girls upstairs who won't care. Your choice, princess."
She glares at me, chest heaving. The silence stretches, filled only by the muffled thump of music and distant laughter from the party. Her eyes keep flicking down to my hand working my slick cock, pupils dilating with that familiar hungry conflict. Mad... but still turned on. Still addicted to the rush of being the girl who made the star forward feel good.
Finally, she bites her glossy lower lip.
"...You're such an asshole," she mutters, but she's already sinking back down to her knees on the sticky basement floor, crawling between my thighs like she never left.
I chuckle low in my throat, victorious, and slide my fingers into her soft hair, gripping just tight enough to guide her.
"Yeah, but I'm the asshole whose dick you're dying to swallow. Now be a good girl, Gracie," I emphasise her name with a mocking lilt, "and make me forget how shitty this semester's been."
She shoots me one last fiery glare before wrapping her warm lips around me again. This time she takes me deeper, relaxing her throat until her nose presses against my abs. The wet, filthy sounds of her sucking fill the small room obscene gags and slurps that make my balls tighten.
"Fuuuuck, that's it," I groan, head falling back against the couch as pleasure surges through me. I tighten my grip in her hair, guiding her rhythm, occasionally pushing her down until her throat squeezes around me. "Good fucking girl... just like that. Deeper."
Her hands come up to cup my heavy balls, massaging them gently while she bobs faster, hollowing her cheeks. Spit drips down my shaft and over her chin as she works me with everything she has. The pressure builds fast, tight, hot, and relentless.
I look down at her ruined makeup, watery eyes staring up at me, and feel that familiar rush of power. "Gonna cum," I warn, voice strained. "Swallow it all like a good puck bunny."
She moans around my cock in response, the vibration pushing me over the edge. With a deep, guttural groan, I thrust up and explode, pulsing thick ropes of cum straight down her throat. She keeps sucking through it, milking every drop until I'm completely spent and twitching.
I finally loosen my grip on her hair, breathing hard, a lazy, satisfied smirk spreading across my face as she pulls off and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Fuck... that was perfect," I murmur, giving her hair one last pat before tucking myself back into my jeans and zipping up. I stand and stretch, the heavy weight of the semester's stress finally drained from my body.
"C'mon," I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her up off her knees. "Let's head back upstairs. I need a beer."
Gracie quickly fixes her top and smooths her hair as I lead her up the creaky basement stairs, my hand resting on the small of her back. The thumping music grows louder with every step. When we push through the door into the main floor, the party hits us full force bodies grinding, red cups everywhere, and the air thick with weed and cheap booze.
I keep my hand on her waist, steering her through the crowd. A couple of my teammates shout my name and I nod back, still buzzing from the release.
"Thanks for that, Macy," I say casually, leaning down so my lips brush her ear as we move toward the kitchen.
"Your mouth is fucking magic. Exactly what I needed after this brutal week."
She stops dead in the hallway, yanking her arm free like I burned her.
"Macy?! Are you fucking kidding me?!" she snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the music. A few people nearby glance over, eyebrows raised.
I blink down at her, feigning confusion. "What? I said Gracie... didn't I?"
"No! You called me Macy!" Her face is bright red, eyes blazing with real anger now. "I just sucked your dick, swallowed everything, and you still can't get my fucking name right? You're actually pathetic."
I shrug, flashing a half-smirk. "Gracie, Macy, whatever. They rhyme. It's not that serious, babe—"
But she's already done. She shoves my chest with both hands, not hard enough to move me, but hard enough to make her point.
"Fuck you," she spits, voice shaking with humiliation and rage. "Find one of your other fifteen puck bunnies. I'm done."
Before I can say another word, she spins on her heel and storms off through the crowd, pushing past people with her head held high. I watch her go, her tight jeans and messy hair disappearing into the sea of bodies.
A slow, genuine wave of relief washes over me. Thank fuck.
I let out a low chuckle and roll my shoulders, already feeling lighter. No more attitude. No more bitchy corrections. No risk of her clinging to me for the rest of the night like some stage-five clinger. Just sweet, peaceful freedom.
I head straight for the keg, grinning as I pour myself a fresh beer. One of my line-mates claps me on the back.
"Who was that?" he asks, nodding toward where Gracie disappeared.
I take a long sip, the cold beer tasting like victory.
"No idea," I say with a shrug. "Some chick named... something. Doesn't matter." And just as I pour myself a beer, I head upstairs to get some well-earned rest
...
Saturday 6 am
My alarm goes off and I mute that shit within seconds. "Fuck," I groan, rolling over and out of bed. I'm not hungover, I only had one drink last night. I don't like to drink during the season, and this is my last season with the Racers. I want to do well. I want to lead us to the finals for the Third year in a row.
I plant my feet on the cold floor of the old on-campus house I share with four other guys. The place is a total pig sty, red cups and bottles on the coffee table, scrap that not just on the coffee table but everywhere, and the faint smell of sweaty gear that never fully goes away no matter how much we spray. My room's the biggest only because I'm the senior captain. The others are still dead to the world: I can hear Hyunjin snoring like a chainsaw through the wall, Jeongin probably passed out face-down after sneaking back in at 2 a.m., and Han and Minho are crashed in the living room after last night's video game marathon.
I stretch my arms overhead, feeling the familiar tightness in my left shoulder from that big hit in the conference semifinal last season. Still not 100%, but close enough.
Coffee first. I shuffle into the tiny kitchen we all fight over and hit the button on the machine I set up the night before like clockwork. While it brews, I drop into a plank on the worn living room rug, then knock out push-ups until my arms burn. The ache feels good. Reminds me I'm still fast, still strong, and I've still got one more year to make my mark before the real world hits.
My phone buzzes on the counter.
Coach:
Morning skate 8 sharp. Full contact. Don't be late, Keller.
Me:
Wouldn't dream of it, Coach.
The Racers. My Racers for one last ride. We've bled on the ice together since freshman year, won two conference titles, and come heartbreakingly close. This year feels different. The young guys are hungry, the juniors are stepping up big, and as captain I've got that fire in my chest that says we're not leaving without the national championship.
I chug the coffee black, throw on compression leggings and a hoodie, then grab my gear bag from beside the door. Han stirs on the couch as I pass. "Skate's at eight, Get your ass up soon or I'm dragging you," I mutter. He groans something unintelligible and rolls over.
...
The early morning air is crisp as I step outside the house and head toward the arena. The campus is still quiet, frost on the lawns, my breath fogging in front of me. I pop in my earbuds and crank Are you gonna be my girl - Jet mixed with whatever chaos the group chat is blasting. The walk wakes me up the rest of the way.
This isn't just another season. This is the one I've been working toward since I first stepped on campus. One last chance to leave a legacy with my guys in this beat-up house and on that ice.
Pairing: Chan x reader
Word Count: 1.2K
Genre: Thiller, Dark Romance
Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Triggering Content, Adult Content,
You have caught Chan's attention and now you can't escape it
Night fell over the city, dark and heavy.
From the window of his studio, Bang Chan watched the lights flicker on in your apartment across the street. Third floor. Curtains half-open. You always forgot to close them completely.
He liked that about you.
You moved through your kitchen in soft shadows, humming to yourself as you unpacked groceries. Oblivious. Fragile in the way a candle's flame is. One careless gust and it was snuffed out forever.
Chan rested his forehead against the cold glass. “Finally home,” he murmured. The words came out sounding almost affectionate.
His phone buzzed on the desk behind him. Another message from Minho asking where he was, Chan knew he had missed another rehearsal, another excuse waiting to be invented, but that would be later; for now, he ignored it.
You were heating soup now. Wearing that oversized gray hoodie again. The one your ex-boyfriend left behind months ago. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding together sharply. That fucking hoodie. He’d tried to be patient about it, tried to convince himself it meant nothing. But every time you wore it, it felt like someone else’s fingerprints were still touching you.
Not anymore, though.
Your ex wasn’t going to bother you again. The police had called it a drunken mugging gone wrong. Simply a wrong place, wrong time tragedy. Chan remembered standing in the rain three blocks away afterward, blood drying beneath his fingernails while sirens screamed through the night like wounded animals. He remembered feeling calm and relieved, a step closer to keeping you safe.
Because afterward, you’d cried in the laundromat at two in the morning while Chan sat beside you pretending the encounter was a coincidence. And when you leaned into him for comfort? That had felt holy. He smiled faintly at the memory. You disappeared from the kitchen window. A moment later, warm yellow light flooded your bedroom. Chan’s pulse slowed into something worshipful. There you are.
You walked home so often at night, unaware that a pair of careful footsteps always remained half a block behind. He knew your routines better than you did. Knew which cashier at the convenience store flirted with you too much. Knew which coworker kept inventing excuses to touch your shoulder. Knew which men slowed their cars when you walked alone. None of them lasted very long around you. Because people disappointed you. People lied. People abandoned. Chan would never abandon you. That was the difference.
His gaze drifted to the notebook beside his laptop. The pages were crowded with observations written in sharp black ink.
Tuesday: She looked tired. Dark circles beneath her eyes. Bought ibuprofen.
Thursday: Neighbor in apartment 3B argued with her in the hallway. She looked frightened. Resolved.
Saturday: She cried after a phone call with her mother. Stayed awake until 2:13 AM.
Resolved.
Such a clean word for ugly things. Chan ran a thumb along the page before closing the notebook carefully.
Tonight mattered. Tonight was the night he stopped protecting you from a distance. Because recently you’d started talking to someone new. That man from the bookstore. Sunghoon. Chan hated even thinking of his name. He’d watched the way the man smiled at you last week while handing over your coffee. Watched your shy little smile in return. The sight had hollowed something violent open inside him.
So Chan had followed him afterward. Learned his route home, where he parked, and how easy it was to make brake fluid disappear. The memory arrived in flashes. Twisted metal. Screaming tires. Headlines scrolling across phones all morning.
Critical condition. Not dead. Unfortunately.
Chan had sat in your favorite café afterward, watching you stare anxiously at the news on your phone. “You okay?” he’d asked softly.
You nodded, but your hands shook around your coffee cup. Chan nearly reached across the table to hold them. Soon, he promised silently, you won’t have to be afraid anymore.
Across the street, your bedroom light switched off. His heart kicked hard against his ribs. The time had come. Chan stood slowly and pulled on his coat.
The hallway outside your apartment smelled faintly of dust and old carpet. He moved silently. Deliberately. The spare key rested warm in his pocket. You really should stop hiding keys beneath flowerpots. He’d discovered it weeks ago. His hand closed around your doorknob.
For one brief second, he simply stood there listening to the soft hum of your television beyond the door. Imagining your heartbeat. Imagining your breathing.
Then he stepped inside. Your apartment wrapped around him instantly. Vanilla candles. Laundry detergent. You. God. It always smelled like you. Chan locked the door carefully behind him.
You were asleep on the couch, curled beneath a blanket with some terrible reality show still playing quietly in the background. Your hair spilled across the cushion. One sock is half off your foot. So vulnerable.
His chest ached with it. He crouched beside you slowly. You didn’t stir. Chan’s fingers hovered near your face before finally brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
“So pretty,” he whispered. You shifted faintly, brow creasing. His pulse thundered.
For months, he’d watched you from the shadows. Protected you from alleys, bad men, heartbreak, and loneliness, while you never even knew his hands were wrapped around your entire life.
And still you kept searching for safety in other people. It almost offended.
You blinked awake suddenly. For one fractured second, your eyes remained unfocused. Then you saw him, pure confusion first, that morphed into fear. Chan thought fear looked devastatingly beautiful on you, blood rushing lower than he had anticipated.
“Chan…?” Your voice came out rough with sleep. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled gently. The same smile he used in interviews. The same smile fans always trusted. Warm, soft, and safe. A mask stitched perfectly over something rotten. “You left your window unlocked again,” he said quietly. “I was worried about you.”
Your expression tightened. “How did you get in?”
He tilted his head. “You know,” he said softly, “you really shouldn’t trust people so easily.”
The silence stretched. Then you sat up abruptly, blanket clutched tight in your fists, covering yourself from him. Something in the room shifted. Animal instinct finally catches his scent beneath the sweetness.
“Chan…” Your voice trembled now.
Good, Chan's smile transforms into something more dangerous. Good, because maybe now you would finally understand how much he loved you.
“I’ve done everything for you,” he whispered. His composure cracked slightly at the edges. Just enough for the darkness underneath to leak through.
“I got rid of everyone who hurt you. Everyone who would leave you. Everyone who didn’t deserve you.” His eyes glittered. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it’s been protecting you from people?”
You stared at him in horror. And still, even now, he thought you looked heartbreakingly beautiful.
“I know you’re scared,” he continued gently, taking another step closer. “But that’s because nobody’s ever loved you perfectly before.”
“Chan…” You backed further into the couch cushions. “You need to leave.”
“No.” The word landed softly, absolute. His expression twisted with something almost wounded. “I tried giving you space. I tried waiting for you to notice me on your own.” He laughed once under his breath. “But you kept choosing the wrong people.”
His gaze darkened. “They all wanted something from you.”
“And you don’t?” you whispered.
The question made him smile in a terrifying way, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear. “I want everything.”
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies your love and support is eternally appreciated xx
college hockey romance • captain x student monitor • forced proximity • opposites attract • slow burn • he falls first • emotionally exhausted golden boy • grumpy x sunshine-ish • college chaos • “you need to loosen up” 18+ content
Bang Chan is Blackwood University’s golden hockey captain campus favorite, future draft pick, and one bad decision away from losing everything.
Thea Vale is the student assigned to keep him under control.
She’s organised, responsible, and completely unimpressed by his reputation. He’s reckless, overworked, and dangerously good at getting under her skin.
Their arrangement is supposed to be simple:
keep Chan eligible, survive hockey season, and avoid distractions.
Instead, it turns into late-night study sessions, hockey parties, empty ice rinks, and Thea slowly realising the charming captain everyone loves is barely holding himself together behind the scenes.
And Chan?
Chan’s starting to fall for the one girl who sees right through him. ❄️
Pairing: Dance Lee Know x Reader
Word Count: 4K
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Adult Concepts
You know you shouldn't mix work and love but there is something about how beautiful he is and the way he moves that you can't get over
The Boudoir was everything that the facade outside suggested an ostentatious and excessive ladies club that catered to the taste of the wealthiest women seeking entertainment in this cold cruel world. You, who was neither wealthy or needing entertainment, had been working the bar for the past six months casually and it was a fairly good way to get by. The ladies always tipped generously, and you weren't paid minimum wage which was better than any other place you had tried your luck in. The best part however, had to be the view. Every single night you watched beautiful men dance like they were trying to fuck you, and it was glorious. Well, they weren't actively trying to fuck you per se they were grinding on each other or paying customers, but it was still a joy to watch in between mixing cocktails and opening bottles of champagne.
Without a doubt, you had probably been a little bit naive when you applied for the job. Yes, you knew you would be working in a strip club, so you were positive that there was going to be nudity, and you absolutely knew that you were going to see a lot of the men that danced there in a different light to the men outside of the club. But you were not expecting to be so thrown by how different each of them was to their stage personas though. Felix's duality still threw you he could be sweet, caring and funny before he started his shift, chatting with you about your day and then he would flip like a switch and his kind eyes and dimples would be replaced by an intimidating stare that oozed sensuality that would draw women in like a moth to a flame. Then there was Hyunjin who looked like he had been sculpted by an artist, his beauty masking a romantic and artistic side that could be hidden as soon as the lights turned off, the change to the sexiest man in the room who knew exactly how to woo any woman in the building made your head spin. Finally, there was Minho he was somewhere between the two he was quiet, sarcastic and seemed to notice everything, but he too turned into a graceful and incredibly attractive sex fiend the moment the lights hit him.
He was your favorite, not because of how he looked, even though he was the most attractive man you had ever seen, but because of how he moved with such calculated precision like a predator sizing up the right prey to chase he could have the whole room hanging in suspense with just a single step. It was always fun to watch him dance even if you were loathed to admit that even after the months had gone by, he could still get you as excited as the women who were so desperate to pay for his attention. As long as he never caught you watching him you knew you were safe.
"You look distracted" Jia snickered putting one of the cocktail shakers down a little too hard in front of you.
"No, just thinking" you tried to cover for your obvious inattention, Jia didn't look convinced merely raising an eyebrow and gesturing towards the stage that Minho was due to step out on, you glared and moved to serve a customer pouring a glass of champagne for her and smiling as she left to return to her seat.
"Why don't you just hook up with him and get over it?" Jia continued moving closer to your ear as the music started up and the women cheered "That's what I did, fucked my way through the ones I wanted and got it out of my system".
"Well thanks for that info that I didn't need or want" you rolled your eyes raising your voice enough for her to hear you. She laughed heartily stepping away to return to her end of the bar as Minho appeared on the stage dressed as a fucking cowboy, the silent groan that rumbled in the back of your throat making you embarrassed even in the darkness of the room.
The dancers had always been friendly and welcoming towards you in the months since you had taken the job, they had never been disrespectful always keeping it professional when they were half, or sometimes completely, naked and casual while off the clock. So, you had no illusions that they held not romantic interested in you, they would have tried to at least chat you up if they had so you were confident that your attraction was entirely one sided. As his song finished you forced your attention to return to your work going out to the back to retrieve another crate of clean glasses to replenish the bar. When you collided with Changbin one of the, thankfully half clothed, waiters.
"Shit, sorry Bin" you spluttered an apology trying to maintain your grip on the shiny plastic in your hands.
"It's fine, here let me help" he laughed taking the large black crate from you and letting you lead him back to the bar. "Did anything break? Did you cut yourself?".
"I'm totally fine I was more concerned that I smashed hard plastic into your bare chest" you snorted a soft laugh to cover your embarrassment.
"I've had worse" he shrugged easily placing the crate down for you and nodding to Jia who waved back "You free to get me another round of champagne for table 12?".
Nodding you returned to work mode pouring each glass carefully as the bubbles replaced your thoughts of Minho for at least a few moments then sending Changbin back off into the dimly lit area of the room he had come from. Ringing up the order you noticed a group of women getting a little bit rowdier and realized that all the dancer’s must have finished their stage routines for the night and were roaming around to offer more private shows for the right price, it seemed to be working for Hyunjin who was being followed by a whole table full of ladies to a more private room. A thought popping into your mind as you watched him move towards room 1. Did the dancers have sex with the people they danced privately for? Did Minho? You mentally chastised yourself it was their business if they did but the thought pricked at your heart none the less.
Once closing time came around and the house lights came back on illuminating the room in a tired glow the lustre of illusion crumbled back into the reality of sticky floors, smudged mirrors and glitter that refused to die. Normally the dancers would leave fairly quickly wanting to shower off the sweat and perfume that trailed after them like evidence, it helped you avoid getting caught staring at him if he was no longer in the building, something that you had been failing to do for weeks and which you knew at least a few people had noticed. Jia teased you, Hana pitied you and Han just made jokes that you could do worse but also far better.
You noticed Minho because he didn’t fit the usual post-show chaos. While everyone else rushed out, he lingered in the hallway outside the private rooms, leaning against the wall like he was waiting for something… or someone. His stage persona sharp smirk, controlled chaos, the kind of confidence that made people forget their own names, was gone. In just his street clothes you only noticed him when you were a few feet away, coming to a jolting stop with your trash bags and bar crates.
"I'm not haunting the hallway I need help with room 3" He shrugged, that faint knowing look was there the one that made it feel like he was always slightly ahead of whatever was happening.
You blinked and paused for just a second too long "Uh, sure" you nodded awkwardly. Minho smirked before opening the door for you. You stopped in the doorway, clutching the cleaning cloth a little too tightly. “Oh…”
Inside, the room looked like a crime scene for bad decisions. Glitter everywhere, a broken heel in the corner and something unidentifiable stuck to the couch that you chose not to investigate for your own mental health. Minho stepped in like it was nothing. You bent down to pick up a pile of crumpled bills, focusing on them like they were the most important thing in the world, unfolding each one before you would be able to count them. The pair of you worked in silence for a bit. He was surprisingly meticulous, like cleaning was a personal mission rather than a chore. At one point, he crouched down to scrape something off the floor with the focus of a man defusing a bomb.
"That goop has been here longer than me." You murmured softly wiping one of the mirrors of what looked like smudged handprints.
"I did wonder if you spoke or if it was only when I wasn't around" Minho replied casually his lips twitching.
You heart tripped over itself "I, um, talk" you swallowed your face flushing at how stupid the words sounded to your own ears. "I'm just, uh, busy."
Minho tilted his head enjoying every second "busy? right" he repeated.
You nodded again even though he had turned back to wipe up a small puddle of something you hoped was spilled wine. He was definitely teasing you and you didn't know if that was better or worse. Silence settled over you again, broken only by the soft sounds of cleaning. You balked at a wet wad of tissues that was almost stuck to the floor "I swear people forget basic human behavior in these rooms" you muttered using another dry napkin to pick it up and toss it into one of your bin bags.
“They don’t forget,” Minho said calmly, now collecting glasses with precise, careful movements. “They just don't care; we are there entertainment not actual people.”
You glanced at him, raising a brow, he had never really been an open book, but his words were more telling than you had expected. “That’s… really dark Minho.”
“It’s true though" he shrugged casually knocking a napkin from the table with a glass, so it landed in the crate he was holding. You worked in silence for a few more moments, the quiet surprisingly comfortable. The clink of glass against glass echoed softly as you both moved around the room. You risked a glance up and immediately regretted it when you found him already looking at you. Only he didn't look away when you caught him "Can I ask you something?"
You froze "I guess..."
“Why do you avoid me?” He continued, his eyes not leaving your face.
Your brain stopped leaving your floundering for anything to explain yourself "I'm not... I don't..." you stuttered unconvincingly.
“You are,” he said lightly, stepping closer. Not cornering you exactly just… closer than before but it was enough to make your pulse thump louder. “You won’t look at me when I come to the bar. You hand me drinks like it’s some clandestine drug deal. If I get too close, you suddenly remember something very important on the other side of the room.” He listed each think off on his fingers.
You opened and shut your mouth twice before you could speak “I… didn’t think you noticed,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.
"I notice everything" he smiled softly although it didn't really reach his eyes.
"I just didn't want to make it obvious or make it weird" you twisted the rag between your fingers before looking down at it.
"That you are avoiding me but seem fine around Changbin or Felix?" he pushed neutrally although not hard.
"No, I didn't want to make it awkward for you" you protested softly still not looking up.
"What would be awkward me knowing you dislike me?" he sighed sounding more like he was expecting you to reject him than want to talk to him.
"No...Ugh... Minho" you felt your face burning with shame, but you had to tell him you didn't not like him "I didn't want you to be awkward around me after you knew I liked you more than I should" you finished quietly your throat feeling tight.
Silence stretched for what seemed like a full minute before Minho started laughing, not cruelly or loudly, it was surprised. "Do you mean that?" he asked a small grin forming on his lips.
You groaned softly, your stomach dropping "I'm sorry, I know this makes it..."
"Don't apologize" he interrupted "it explains a lot actually."
You tilted your head confused "it does?"
"Yeah, you’re so casual with Felix and Changbin I just assumed it was your total lack of interest in me" his smiled remained on his face, "you're cute".
You covered your face "I can't believe I just told you that."
"I've been hoping you would say something like that to me at some point." He while he leaned casually against the wall, watching you with that same unreadable, slightly playful expression but it looked softer now.
You almost choked on your own breath. "What?"
"I was trying to figure out a way to ask you out, without having to actually chase you across the room." He smiled, slow and a little mischievous.
Everything went very still as you processed his words "you're what?" you murmured weakly still flustered.
He pushed off the wall, stepping closer again this time more deliberate. “Now that we’ve cleared that up,” he said, quieter, “I’ll ask properly.” Your heart leapt into your throat. “Do you want to go out with me?”
You didn't hesitate "yes" then your eyes widened, it was too fast, too honest.
He laughed again, softer this time. “It’s okay,” he chuckled. “I got the important part.”
You both stood there for a second longer than necessary, neither moving. Then you remembered. “Oh, the room,” you said suddenly, gesturing around. “We didn’t finish cleaning.”
“It can wait,” he smirked.
“…it can’t” you breathed.
He sighed, glancing at the mess, then back at you. “Fine. But if I find more glitter, I’m blaming you.”
"You're the reason there is glitter in here in the first place" you spluttered as he beamed again.
You almost cancelled three times. Not because you didn’t want to go, if anything, that was the problem wanting it too much made everything feel fragile, like one wrong move would ruin it before it even started. You changed outfits twice, then a third time, before you went back to the second one with different shoes. By the time you reached the address that Minho had texted you realized that it turned out to be nothing like what you had expected. You had figured a restaurant or cafe, maybe a bar or even a bowling alley but not a quiet park just as golden hour was about it hit the sky.
"You're early" Minho's voice was more causal but no less warm than the last time you spoke.
You smiled softly "I don't like being late, but I also wanted to scope where you were taking me."
He chuckled quietly "have I managed to do alright?" He joked reaching for your hand, which you let him take, before leading you through the tree lined paths towards the small lake that sat roughly in the middle of the grassy space.
"This is beautiful" you murmured taking in the cute red picnic rug and basket that sat just ahead of you. "I can see why you picked it."
"Your beautiful here, the park is pretty, but you make it something special" Minho smiled letting you sit on the rug wherever you chose to. The extra pillows, that Felix had insisted he pack, letting you get comfortable.
"I...um..." your brain short circuited at the compliment. Minho had never been that straight forward with you, and you liked it more than you really should.
"Here" he chuckled softly pouring you a glass of wine to go with the food that he had meticulously picked out. You took the glass and sipped it quickly feeling like the liquid would give you the courage to not be awkward the whole night.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, you finally asked him a question "why here?"
Minho thought for a moment "because here we don't have to pretend to be anyone else."
You rose an eyebrow at him "I don't pretend to be someone else at work." Your face heating up at the implication.
"You pretend you're mute" Minho chuckled watching your face flush.
"You pretend to be a cop, a cowboy, a biker..." You listed things off from the last few nights you had seen him dance while you worked "Oh and a fireman."
Minho grinned his eyes sparkling "So you have been paying attention to what I do."
You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times before taking another sip of wine "Maybe."
Minho continued to stare at you while he placed some food on a plate for you "Good, I want you watching me." His voice lower than only a moment earlier.
Your mouth went dry and you had to remind yourself to breath "I thought you performed for adoration and cash" you tried to joke although it came out breathier than you would have liked. You took a bite of some kind of small pastry from your plate as the heat crept up your neck.
"I'm not trying to make you nervous" Minho whispered apologetically a soft smile on his lips when you finally looked up at him. "I just want you to know that the feeling is mutual." He sipped his drink watching you.
"I honestly never thought it ever could be" you admitted a little sheepishly "You are always so distant at work I thought you just hadn't decided if I was worth your time yet."
It was Minho's turn to look taken aback "It may shock you but I'm not the most talkative guy in the building." He joked easily "I figured you were shy until you started to avoid me, then I thought you were rude, I eventually realized it was something else, but it took me a while of watching you to figure it out."
"Oh, no one out talks Changbin, except maybe Han" you agreed intentionally not addressing the other part. "Certified yappers those two."
The sun had dipped behind the trees, and the soft shades of orange and pink were starting to swirl across the sky as Minho fed you another strawberry his finger dragging feather lightly against your lip making your shiver as you chewed the sweet fruit.
"You know," he started slowly his eyes locked on your lips "I wanted to see what this would be like. Just us, no work, no club, no glitter."
You smiled genuinely warmth blooming in your chest "and now you have what do you think?"
Minho eyes met yours as his fingers intertwined with yours, another strawberry already on its way to your lips "that I should have asked you out months ago."
"You should have" you grinned "because this, just us, is nice. I like it." You wrapped your lips around the second strawberry as a faint tinge of pink dusted across Minho's cheeks as he moved himself closer to you.
"You are easy to be with" he breathed lounging back against the pillows that you were sitting on. You followed his lead tucking yourself in a little closer to his side as the sky had deepened to a dusky blue, and the first stars were starting to wink into existence. Your hands remain intertwined as you revelled in how a simple picnic was turning into something far more, something deep and warm that was undeniably just yours.
You couldn't help studying his perfect side profile not turning away when he tilted his head towards you. The world shrank away and you were captivated by how warm his eyes were as the locked with yours, the air became thick and a flicker of hesitation flittered across his face before his other hand gently cupped your cheek. Without thinking it through you closed the distance. Minho's lips met yours in a soft tentative kiss, warm and sweet. The delicate moment somehow electric as your hearts synced with the meeting of your lips.
You pulled back just slightly feeling a mis of breathless excitement and shyness "wow" he murmured his voice low, "that was... I've wanted to do that for so long."
You laughed softly watching the smile that tugged on his lips "me too" your fingers brushing your lower lip.
"Would it be too much if I asked to do that again?" He grinned his thumb stroking your cheek gently.
You felt a shiver of excitement, the night stretching before you full of possibilities. “I think I’d like that,” you admitted, heart racing, words soft yet certain.
He leaned in again, slower this time, lips brushing yours in a kiss that lingered, deepened, and carried the promise of more touches, more closeness, more stolen moments where the world felt like it had melted away, leaving only the two of you. Minho’s lips were still curved into a faint smile when he pulled back the second time, though now there was something warmer in his expression less nervousness, more confidence. His thumb traced lazily against the back of your hand, the slow movement making your stomach flutter every single time.
“You’re staring,” you teased softly.
“I know,” he admitted immediately, completely unapologetic. “Can’t help it.”
The honesty in his voice made heat creep into your cheeks. Under the dim glow of the nearby park lights, he looked softer than you were used to seeing him. At the bar, Minho always carried himself with practiced confidence flirtatious smiles, smoldering eyes, effortless charm that drove the customers insane. But here, sprawled beside you on a picnic blanket with his hair slightly messy from the breeze and his cheeks pink from kissing you, he felt real in a way that made your chest ache. His hand slid gently to your waist as he leaned over you slightly, the blanket shifting beneath you both. You could feel the warmth of him even through your clothes, could feel the way he smiled against your mouth when your fingers curled into the front of his jacket to pull him closer.
"I think we might have a small problem" you whispered as he pressed his forehead against yours.
"Hmmm" he hummed "what would that be?" The tension between you had changed it was simmering now; you could feel his breath ghosting across your skin.
"I don't want this night to end" your confession was quiet but honest and you could feel the way his breath caught as you spoke.
"It doesn't have to end yet" Minho tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. “I mean…” he started carefully, though the growing smile on his face betrayed him completely, “we could always continue this somewhere less public.”
"Minho" you laughed softly "you're dangerously close to me saying yes."
He shifted closer until your noses almost brushed, his voice dropping lower. “Come back with me,” he murmured. “We can order dessert, pretend we’re going to watch a movie, and absolutely fail at paying attention to it.”
Butterflies erupted in your stomach, but there was nothing rushed in the invitation. Nothing pushy. Just warmth and want and the unmistakable excitement of two people realizing they didn’t want to stop discovering each other yet.
You looked at him for a long moment before answering.
“Dessert first,” you said finally.
"I can live with that" he smirked kissing you again this time rolling you under him as he deepened the kiss further, enough that the rest of the world faded into the background while the two of you stayed wrapped together on the picnic blanket already reluctant to let the night end.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies a always your love and support keeps me creating and I am eternally grateful xx
Warnings: This story is about to get real dark so if you don't like that shit stay clear.
Summary: Inspired by the amazing Fourth wing novel's, take a deep dive into my fucked up brain.
Her whole life, all Y/N wanted was to use her powers to heal those who had been broken. However, she didn't expect her life to be completely turned on its head the moment Han Jisung walked into that hall. He forever changed the way she viewed the world, altering her life in ways she could never have imagined.
Welcome to oddinary!
“Welcome to the Healers' Quadrant!” Professor graywood exclaims with an enthusiastic smile, his presence filling the classroom with infectious energy as he strides confidently through the doorway. The vibrant colours of the room—rich greens and warm earth tones—are designed to inspire healing and creativity, and they seem to come alive under his dynamic presence.
“This will be your home for the next three years,” he continues, gesturing broadly to the space adorned with inspiring artwork and shelves filled with books on healing practices. Here, you will experience a growth, discovery, and transformation journey.” As he glides gracefully from one student to another, he makes eye contact with each of them, igniting a spark of excitement and anticipation in the air.
“Many of you might already possess the remarkable gift of mending, but this class serves as a sanctuary for those who are just embarking on their journey. It offers a unique opportunity to refine and develop your abilities in a nurturing and encouraging environment. Take this chance to explore the nuances of your craft, learn new techniques, and share experiences with fellow aspiring menders.” As he scanned the room, his warm smile landed on a group of first-years huddled together in the corner, their expressions a mix of excitement and uncertainty. He gestured towards them, inviting their participation and encouraging them to embrace the thrilling adventure ahead fully.
“Alright, everyone, let’s dive into our lesson! If you could turn your books to page 109, we’ll get started,” he said with a warm smile, effortlessly pulling his book from the table behind him and bringing it to the front where he stood, eager to begin.
…..
“Did you hear?” Changbin exclaimed, practically slamming his food tray onto the cafeteria table, sending a couple of apples rolling across the surface.
“No… and I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me,” you replied, stifling a yawn. Changbin was a great guy, but you were running on fumes after the gruelling healer’s class. The sheer amount of energy required to concoct that elixir had left you utterly drained, and all you wanted was a moment of peace.
“Han just sent a first-year to the infirmary,” Changbin said, absently pushing his food around on his plate, his brow furrowed slightly.
“What? Is the poor kid okay?” you exclaimed, springing to your feet, a rush of concern washing over you—the table.
“Yeah, he’s fine now, I think,” Changbin replied, finally breaking into a grin, easing the tension in the air.
The cafeteria door swung open, and in strode Jisung, his knuckles bruised and stained with blood, still clad in his gym gear. He made his way to the lunch table, grabbing a couple of sandwiches and bottled water, and your heart sank as you noticed how the other students instinctively parted ways for him, letting him pay for his food first.
“Y/n, don’t get involved. He’s nothing but trouble,” Changbin warned, fully aware of Jisung's pull on you.
As he approaches the cafeteria exit, Jisung’s gaze meets yours for a fleeting moment. Your heart races as you call out, "Jisung!" hoping to catch his attention.
But he continues walking, turning his back on you. Panic sets in, and you shout, “Please wait! You’re hurt—I can help!”
Without a second thought, you pick up the pace, breaking into a jog to keep up with him. The distance between you seems to grow, but you refuse to let him slip away.
He pauses just outside his door, his hand hovering over the handle. Before he can turn it, you gently grasp his hand. “These look so painful,” you say, your voice filled with empathy.
Before he could utter a single word, an instinctive surge of energy coursed through you, compelling you to intervene. With a gentle touch, you focused your power, weaving a calming warmth around him that began to seep into his being, alleviating the heaviness of his pain. His eyes widened in astonishment, the flicker of understanding dawning upon him as he felt the relief wash over him, transforming his anguish into a fleeting memory.
“How are you…?” he gasps, his eyes widening in disbelief as the words escape his lips. A mixture of confusion and astonishment is etched across his face.
“Most healers have a specialty,” you say with a grin, your eyes sparkling enthusiastically. While your extraordinary ability to alleviate pain is a rare gift amongst healers, it’s fascinating to think that each healer often possesses a unique ability.
“Is that yours?” For the first time in what feels like ages, he’s finally broken the silence with more than just a grunt.
“It’s one of them,” you reply with a teasing grin. “Want me to clean up that knuckle for you?”
Just as he began to form a response, you swiftly grasped his hand, urgency propelling you forward as you pulled him through the threshold of your enchanted bedroom door. At Evermore, every student was granted a protective barrier, a magical ward that ensured privacy and safety; the only means to enter another's room was through an invitation. The air crackled slightly with the protective energy surrounding the door as you both crossed the boundary into your personal sanctuary, leaving the outside world behind.
“Sit,” you command firmly, gesturing towards the desk chair with a pointed finger.
Han hesitates for a moment, the doubt flickering across his face before he finally takes a reluctant seat, the chair creaking under his weight. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re too trusting of strangers?” he asks, his voice tinged with skepticism as he leans back slightly, crossing his arms defensively.
“What are you planning to do now?” you inquire, your brow raised, curiosity mingling with caution. “Kill the only healer who's willing to help you” you smirk knowing full well he doesn't have the guts to harm you.
You let out a haughty laugh when he fails to respond, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “You don’t scare me, Jisung,” you say, your voice dripping with confidence. “I grew up surrounded by greater element benders than you. I know exactly what you’re capable of... and, more importantly, what you’re not.”
With deliberate calmness, you reach into your pocket and pull out a syringe, the cold metal glinting under the dim light. You expertly twist off the needle tip and toss it aside carelessly. Then, with precision, you plunge the syringe into a glass bottle filled with the shimmering, metallic-blue sayleen solution, drawing it up into the chamber with steady hands.
“This might sting a bit,” you remark, gently pouring the solution over Hans's knuckles while carefully dabbling away the dried blood.
“I should…” he winces, the sharp pain breaking through momentarily.
“What should you do?” you inquire, your curiosity piqued by his unfinished thought.
“Scare you…” he groans, his voice strained as the stinging sensation of the antiseptic hits him, momentarily eclipsing the pain of his injuries.
Disregarding his earlier comment, you carefully apply antiseptic cream to his knuckles and gently wrap them in a bandage. As you look up to meet his gaze, your smile catches you off guard; his eyes glimmer like the deep blue ocean.
“Aren't you going to say thank you?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.
He scoffs, a smirk creeping onto his face. “For what? I could have handled this myself.”
You can’t help but laugh as you stand up. “Right, you better grab your food tray and get back to your room. Wouldn’t want anyone seeing you get help and looking all weak now, would we?”
You observe intently as his eyes gradually return to their usual warm brown hue, the strange flicker of colors fading away. With a hint of frustration in his demeanour, he snatches up his tray, the clatter of dishes echoing slightly in the quiet room. As he strides towards the door, you can’t help but stifle a chuckle at the dramatic way he closes it behind him, the soft click punctuating the tension that had just been between you. “What a dick,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head with a smile as you begin to tidy up the mess you've made. The remnants of your earlier chaos—cotton pads and scattered wrappers—now wait to be cleaned up, a stark contrast to the anguish still lingering in your mind.
…..
“I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” you yell, the agony of Minho's grip forcing every ounce of air from your lungs.
“Did Jackson teach you anything?” he snarls, the intensity in his gaze unwavering as he finally releases you from his hold.
“Jackson and I…” you begin, pausing as you search for the right words. “Let’s just say we don’t see eye to eye,” you continue, choosing your phrasing carefully. It’s an understatement, really. The truth is, Jackson was adamant about keeping you away from Evermore Academy.
If it were entirely up to Jackson, he would have eagerly arranged for you to attend a local healer's school right in your hometown. This way, you could remain close to your mother.
“After our father passed away,” you begin, your voice catching slightly as you clear your throat, “he changed a lot.” You swallow hard, anxiety knotting in your stomach, silently hoping that Minho would brush off this conversation and let the moment pass without delving deeper.
“Jesus Jackson,” Minho exclaimed. “Alright, it looks like we'll need to go back to the fundamentals. You’ve got the talent; we just need to refine it and tap into your potential.”
……..
You doubled over, pressing your palms into your knees as Minho circled you like a hawk. His shadow loomed over the training mats, the faint torchlight of the Quadrant’s practice hall flickering across his sharp features.
“I hate you,” you wheezed, your voice ragged with exhaustion.
Minho arched an eyebrow, unfazed. “Good. Hate fuels you. But only if you know how to use it.”
His words weren’t cruel, more like steel sharpened against steel. He wasn’t here to coddle you, and though every fiber of your being screamed to collapse, a stubborn ember within you refused to let him see you break.
“You think anyones going to go easy on you because you look tired?” Minho pressed, his tone low but piercing. “You think the people like jisung will give a damn about your grief, about Jackson holding you back all these years? No. They’ll eat you alive if you don’t fight.”
At the mention of Jisung, your throat tightened. Images of his bruised knuckles under your hands of the fleeting warmth when your power touched him flashed unbidden in your mind. You straightened, clenching your fists until your nails dug crescents into your palms.
“I’m not weak,” you shot back, defiance sparking in your eyes.
Minho smirked, finally satisfied. “Prove it.”
The impact rattled through you as his palm slammed against your shoulder, sending you crashing backward into the mat. The breath whooshed from your lungs, stars sparking behind your eyes.
“Get up.”
You rolled, coughing, and pushed yourself onto shaky feet. Your arms trembled, but the fire in your chest burned hotter. Again. He struck again, this time faster, aiming low. You stumbled but twisted, barely managing to avoid a takedown.
“Better,” Minho barked. “But you’re still thinking like a healer defense, retreat, hesitation. You want to survive here? You strike first. You finish it.”
His fist came toward you again, but this time, something inside you snapped. You dropped low, swept his leg with all the force your tired body could muster, and he hit the mat with a grunt of surprise.
You stood over Minho, panting, sweat dripping into your eyes, a wild grin tugging at your lips despite the ache in your body. “Guess you’re not as unshakable as you thought.”
Minho’s laughter rumbled low in his chest as he sat up, brushing off the dust. “Finally. That’s the Y/N I’ve been waiting for.”
But then his expression sobered, his eyes narrowing with something like warning. “Just remember… you won’t always be sparring with me. And the next opponent won’t care if you’re tired, or if you’re scared. They’ll want you broken.”
His words sank into you like iron weights, heavy but galvanising. For the first time, you realised what this training was really about.
At Evermore, it wasn’t just about surviving. It was about proving you deserved to.
Summary: Your favorite pastime is getting under your boyfriend Chan’s skin, playful teasing, harmless defiance, and testing his patience just enough to feel the thrill of it. But when you finally push too far, the mood shifts. Calm, commanding, and impossible to ignore, Chan shows you that some lines aren’t meant to be crossed… and that he’s always been the one in control.
Word count: 700k
⚠️ Read at your own risk: This story includes mature themes, strong power dynamics, possessive behavior, restraint imagery, and intense emotional tension that may not be suitable for all readers.
Tonight, you didn’t just cross a line.
You skipped over it altogether, looked back with a daring smirk, and smiled as if you knew you had won.
There’s a fleeting almost imperceptible moment of regret flickering through you, triggered when you truly observe Chan and notice how eerily still he remains. Not relaxed. Not amused.
Coiled tightly like a spring.
He’s sprawled in the chair as if it’s a throne he claims, legs spread wide, elbows resting on his knees with deliberate ease, his gaze fixed intently on you like you’re a problem he’s eager to solve. The chain hangs loosely from his fist, intentionally slack, the metal glinting faintly under the dim lighting, ignored as it dangles.
This subtle slack indicates he’s choosing patience. That’s the part that should scare you. But it doesn't instead, it fuels your evil intent. Tonight you are going to get your boyfriend all worked up.
“You’re quiet,” you whisper softly, stepping closer, deliberately invading his space as if you belong there. Like you’re not playing with fire but dancing on its edge. Your voice light, teasing, almost sweet, as you add, “That usually means you’re thinking something mean.”
You exaggerate the pout on your lips, push your luck, prod him further, and beg silently for a reaction.
His lips twitch just slightly an almost unconscious betrayment before he quickly smooths his expression.
“You’ve been in a mood all night,” he says calmly, his eyes dragging over your form with calculating intent, as if tallying every mistake, misstep, or flirtation so far. “I was hoping you’d talk yourself out of it.”
That's laughable. Honestly, that's absolutely not going to happen.
You close the gap completely, moving slowly and deliberately, each step taken with purpose. Your smile is smug and challenging, no apologies evident in your expression. You tilt your head slightly to the side, her gaze daring him to make a move to stop you.
Bold. Reckless. Brat behavior at its finest.
Your lips brush his,soft and teasing, just enough to make him tense beneath you, muscles corded with anticipation. A pulse of heat erupts instantly, familiar and addictive like fire licking at your skin, igniting every nerve. And because restraint has never been your forte you bite his lip. Not hard. Just enough to be disrespectful, to test boundaries.
The room snaps into focus.
Chan’s hand shoots up, gripping your jaw firm, grounding, asserting control. He pulls you back just enough to meet his dark, feral gaze.
“…Ah.”
That sound is dangerous.
“Is this how we’re playing tonight,” he murmurs, the T in pet cracking sharply, like a whip, “my pet?”
Before you can even breathe, he’s rising. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he moves, the chain snapping taut as he steps forward. You don’t stumble your footing is sure but the reminder hits you with force.
You feel it.
He leans down until his forehead presses against yours, warm breath enveloping you, commanding presence overwhelming.
“Who do you serve?”
Your pulse races wildly, instinct propelling your mouth to reply.
“Chan—”
The chain jerks once, precisely.
“Answer.”
“You,” you whisper.
His thumb traces the collar at your throat slowly, deliberately, possessively. Not gentle. Not cruel.
Measured.
“Again.”
“You,” you say louder, breathless now. “I serve you.”
That earns him a fleeting look of satisfaction, sharp and quick.
Still not enough.
He steps back, sinks into the chair again, spreading his legs as the chain slides through his fingers until it’s just tight enough to hold your attention.
Then, he looks at you, really looks.
“Now,” he says calmly, voice smooth and lethal,
“crawl to me.”
You hesitate just to be intentionally annoying.
His eyebrow lifts.
“Like a good girl.”
You drop to your hands and knees, the cold floor pressing against your palms as you make your way toward him. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t rush you. He lets you decide everything, every inch, every breath, every defiant second.
When you stop between his boots, he leans forward, looping the chain once around his hand.
“Brats don’t get freedom,” Chan growls lifting your chin with the chain until your eyes meet.
“They get lessons,” he continues, his grip tightening just enough to promise consequences.
Pairing: OT8 x reader
Word Count: 1.2K
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None
a/n: There will be one final part to this with an alternate ending for some of the members x
Your friendship weathered the storm of that one night and perhaps things might be ready to change.
Han
Han waits until he’s sure not an impulsive sure or a spiraling sure. The kind that settles in his chest and stays gives him comfort instead of adding to the weight on his already full shoulders.
You’re sitting together on the floor of his room again, familiar territory, but the air feels different this time. Much calmer and easier. He fiddles with his sleeve like he often does, then stops himself and looks at you.
“I’m not scared the way I was before,” he says quietly his confidence obvious. “I still feel things deeply. That didn’t change. But I’ve learned how to sit with it instead of panicking.”
You tilt your head, listening thinking that all this time you had spent healing and hoping had finally managed to give him the space to learn himself. You had remained close despite the very large bump in the road, and you had watched him slowly grow and change.
“I’ve been working on myself,” he continues. “Boundaries. Saying when I’m not okay instead of pretending I am. And through all of that… you never stopped being important to me.”
He swallows, eyes searching yours. You nod encouragingly urging him to continue a soft smile on your lips.
“I don’t want to sneak around feelings anymore,” he says. “I don’t want to almost-love you.” His voice softens. “If you’d give me a chance, I want to be with you. Not because I need you. Because I choose you.”
You give him a moment to breath before you speak "So, you want to be my boyfriend now?" you smirk watching his eyes go wide "I dunno..."
"Hey!" he yelps in protest, reaching across and pulling you by the arms towards him "I always wanted to be your boyfriend! I just didn't know how."
"Well, we better test that out then." You grin kissing the corner of his mouth and enjoying the loud squeak that erupts from him.
Felix
Felix approaches the topic carefully almost like he’s holding something fragile that he refuses to drop. You’re walking together, late afternoon light spilling across the pavement. He slows his steps, then stops altogether, making you follow his actions head tilted slightly in confusion.
“I feel steadier now,” he says, not looking at you yet. “Happier in my own skin. I didn’t realize how much I needed that before.”
He turns to face you, expression open, unguarded. Like the boy you met years earlier when you became fast friends who could weather any storm together, even when they were self-inflicted ones.
“I used to be afraid that if we tried, I’d lose you,” he admits. “But I’ve learned that hiding my feelings was already doing that.”
His hand hovers between you, asking without words. You answer the same way slipping his hand into yours and letting the warmth sink into your palm. "You know you will never really lose me Lix, surely the last year and a half has showed you that." you smile tentatively.
“I still care about you. That never went away,” he says softly. “And this time, I think I can protect what we build instead of worrying I’ll break it.”
You can see the truth of his words in his eyes, the same beautiful eyes that had looked at you with such adoration that night so long ago and looked at you with kindness when you tried to move on afterwards even though no relationship you tried to have had managed to work out.
A small smile curves his lips. “If you want… I’d like to try. Properly with no fear only love.”
You couldn't help the tears that pricked your eyes, the warmth of his hand in yours, the way being with him felt as natural as breathing "I would like that Lix".
Seungmin
Seungmin chooses his moment with precision, just like always. You’re sitting side by side, sharing silence in the ad break of the drama you are watching the way you always have. Then he speaks, voice even but warmer than before.
“I’m in a better place,” he says carefully. “I’ve cleared space in my life. Not just time. Space in my head.”
You glance at him, curious as to where he's going with his statement. He meets your eyes without hesitation.
“I told you once that the timing was wrong because I couldn’t give you my full attention,” he continues. “That’s no longer true.”
You change your position moving so you can face him, subconsciously putting a little more distance between you. You had fought to save your friendship with Seungmin but it had taken time and energy that you then couldn't give to anyone else, your life was put on hold while you sorted through if it was even worth staying friends with a man who would sleep with you and then pull away in the very next breath.
He exhales slowly. “I care about you, deeply and I always have” he says. “And now I’m ready to show that instead of analyzing it to death.”
You bite your lower lip, it's a nervous habit and you know he knows this about you, but your cautious with your heart now, you have been ever since that night, you no longer are willing to give it to him freely after he proved that he was willing to say that the only time you were completely truthful with your feelings with each other was a mistake. But the warmth that bloomed in your chest as he said each word was hard to ignore.
There’s a pause, deliberate. “I’m not asking out of habit or comfort,” he adds. “I’m asking because I want to build something with you. If you’re willing to give me that chance.”
"We can try," you whisper "But you can't repeat what happened last time, I don't think we could come back from that again."
He smiled sadly before taking your hand in his and tugging you under his arm to hold you against him "I was wrong then, but I will never wrong you again. I swear."
Jeongin
Jeongin is nervous, but it’s a brighter nervousness now, a hopeful kind that is not afraid. He rocks back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes shining when he looks at you.
“I think I finally know who I am,” he says with a soft laugh. “Or at least… I’m not scared of finding out anymore.”
You smile. "I'm happy for you, Innie." It had taken a good few months for the pain that had taken root in your heart to fade, longer still for you to realize that you too had needed time to grow into yourself and become someone who could handle the pressures of being in a relationship with an idol, even if you wondered some days if that person would be Jeongin.
“I needed time to grow,” he continues. “To learn how to stand on my own without leaning too hard on anyone else. And I did that.” He steps closer, voice gentler. “But I never stopped wanting you,” he admits. “I just wanted to meet you as someone whole, not someone still figuring out which way was up.”
Taking your hand in his he slowly brushed a feather light kiss to your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours, leaving you a blushing mess in the process.
His smile turns shy. “If you’d let me,” he says, “I’d really like to be with you now. If you will let me.”
You cup his face and nod watching as his whole face lights up before you are pulled into a tight hug that feels a lot like home.
a/n: Thank you so much for reading my lovelies, I cannot express enough how grateful I am for you all x
Pairing: OT8 x reader
Word Count: 1K
Genre: Angst
Warnings: None really
The morning after doesn't always usher in the fairytale ending, you find this out when a night tangle up with your close friend is not what you expected.
Han
Han doesn’t pace or run his hands though his hair repeatedly. That might be what scares you his normal stress related tells are off. He sits across from you on the floor, back against the couch, fingers worrying the sleeve of his hoodie. The air still feels close, heavy with things neither of you slept through.
“I’ve been replaying it,” he admits, eyes flicking up to yours and away again. “Last night. The way it felt so… easy.”
Your chest tightens. “Easy is bad?” You can't help the crease that forms between your eyebrows at the idea that the two of you being together was too easy that it was wrong.
He laughs once, sharp and nervous. “Easy is everything I want. That’s the problem.” He rubs at his face, then finally looks at you properly. There is too much honesty there to hide from.
“I like you,” he says. “Not in a passing way. In a way that makes my brain spiral and my chest feel too full. And if we keep going right now, I’m gonna cling to you like a lifeline.”
You start to speak but he shakes his head making you pause.
“I don’t regret being with you,” he says quickly. “I regret the timing. I’m still figuring myself out. My anxiety, my swings, all of it. I don’t want to make you responsible for holding me together.”
His voice softens. “So yeah. Sleeping together was a mistake. Not because it meant nothing. Because it meant too much at the wrong moment.”
You look at him, really look at him before nodding slowly, "So we just pretend it didn't happen?"
"No," he says immediately his hand reaching for you before stopping in mid-air "we just continue as it was until I can't get my shit together." His sad smile making you see that it's not just you who is hurting.
Felix
Felix tries to smile but it doesn’t quite work out the way he wants it to. He sits beside you, knees drawn up, hands clasped together like he’s bracing himself. The sun is up now, and it paints him too gently for what he’s about to say.
“I need to be honest with you,” he says, voice low and careful. “Even if it hurts.”
You nod, heart already sinking like a stone in a pond.
“I care about you,” he continues. “You’re one of my safest people. And last night felt… right, warm. Like coming home.”
Your throat tightens.
“But I’m not in a place where I can protect that,” he says softly. “I’m still learning how to be okay with myself. If we turn this into a relationship right now, I’m scared I’ll lose you. As a friend. As someone I trust.”
He finally looks at you, eyes bright but steady.
“I don’t regret you and I don't regret what we did,” he says. “I regret crossing a line before I was ready to stand on the other side of it with you.”
His hand brushes yours, lingering for half a second before pulling away. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “The timing just isn’t kind to us yet.”
You let him finish before smiling sadly at him, you understand, you always had maybe it would be a fleeting moment but if you were willing to stay by his side maybe you could be more than just friends eventually.
Seungmin
Seungmin is calm. Too calm. He hands you a cup of coffee before sitting down, like he’s already decided how this conversation will go and refuses to let emotion derail it. “What we did,” he says evenly, measuredly “was a mistake.”
The bluntness stings, making you flinch away from him, even though his eyes soften immediately afterward.
“Not because I don’t have feelings for you,” he adds his hand twitches like he wants to reach for you. “I do. I’ve had them longer than I admitted to myself.”
You blink unable to speak. He exhales slowly.
“But I also know myself,” he continues. “When I get into something serious, I go all in. And right now, my life is… crowded. Responsibilities, expectations, pressure I haven’t sorted through yet.”
He folds his hands together, knuckles white, and rests them on the table.
“If I start a relationship with you now, I’ll be distracted. Short-tempered. Absent in ways you don’t deserve.” His gaze meets yours, steady and sincere. “You’re too important to me to let that happen.”
Softer now. “Last night doesn’t change how much I care. It just reminded me that caring isn’t enough if the timing is wrong.”
You sip the coffee and swallow hard, the liquid scalding your throat "so we just pretend?"
He looks away for a moment before looking at you again letting you see what he is trying to keep hidden "No, we can't pretend last night didn't happen, but I hope we can keep it as just a moment between us until it can be more."
Jeongin
Jeongin looks wrecked. He sits on the edge of his bed, hair still a mess, hands dangling uselessly between his knees. When he speaks, his voice wobbles despite his effort to keep it light.
“This is awkward,” he mutters. “I hate this part.”
You wait beginning to feel more exposed than you even had in just his t-shirt, sheets still pooling around you.
He glances back at you, eyes full of conflict. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a while. And last night felt right in the moment. Too right.”
Your heart lurches in your chest making you close your eyes to stop the tears from forming.
“But I’m still growing up,” he says quietly. “Figuring out who I am outside of everyone else’s expectations. And if we start something now, I’m scared I’ll lean on you instead of standing on my own.”
You open your eyes to look as him again he is still looking at the floor again his hands now tightly clasped together.
He swallows. “I don’t want our first step toward each other to turn into something that holds us back,” he says. “So even though it hurts like hell, I think sleeping together was a mistake.” He offers a small, sad smile. “Just not one I wish I could erase. One I wish had happened later.”
You nod wordlessly as he meets your eyes again trying to hold yourself together.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies, as always your support keeps me going and I am incredibly grateful to all of you xx
Pairing: OT8 x reader
Word Count: 1.2K
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None
Your friendship weathered the storm of that one night and perhaps things might be ready to change.
Chan
It happens late one night. Not dramatic late more comfortable late. The kind of hour where the city hums instead of shouts. You find Chan in the studio again, but this time the lights are softer, his shoulders looser. He looks up when you enter, surprise flickering into something warmer, steadier.
“You’re here,” he says, like it’s both a statement and a small miracle.
You nod trying not to laugh at him. “You asked me to come, Chris.” His face is half lit up by the glowing screen of his laptop, and you are willing to place money that he hasn’t eaten yet.
He smiles at that, a real smile that lights up his eyes. Not tired, not guilty.
“I didn’t know if you would,” he admits. “But I’m glad you did.”
There is a pause. Not awkward one more an expectant one. Giving you time to sit on the black leather couch while he spins on his chair to face you
“I told you once it wasn’t the right time,” he says, voice low. “I was stretched thin and scared I’d break you by accident.”
You lean closer. “And now?”
He sets the notebook in his hands aside, rolling his chair nearer to you.
“Now I’ve learned how to put things down,” he says. “How to leave space. And I keep thinking… I want you in that space. Not as an escape. As a choice.”
Your breath catches, after months of a slightly strained friendship you had found yourselves in a back to a near normal friendship and being around him had become easy again, but you had kept your hope that he would one day want you again close to your chest.
His hand finds yours, steady. “If you’re willing,” he adds softly. “I’m ready to do this right.” He presses his lips carefully against the inside of your wrist giving you a moment to think.
The smile that crosses your lips gives him the answer he is waiting for, but he stays silent until you manage to speak "I want that so much Chris."
“Yeah? Even though I kept you waiting for longer than I should have?” He whispers cupping your face with his other hand.
You stared at him for a moment his caring eyes, filled with more than just hope “Lets go get something to eat and we can talk about it some more” you finally smirk watching him let go of a breath he was holding and relax.
He helped you stand up pulling you closer “Or maybe I could show you again?”
Lee Know
Minho doesn’t overexplain; he never has just like he doesn't sugarcoat truths. You run into him at a quiet cafe, coincidence or fate pretending to be casual. He blinks when he sees you, then smirks like he knew this would happen eventually.
“Sit,” he says, nodding to the chair across from him.
You do, pulling the chair out and sitting as casually as possible. There is a beat while he studies you, eyes sharp but gentle now.
“I’m not running anymore,” he says. “From feelings, from timing and especially from you.”
You raise an eyebrow. “That’s your big speech?” You can't help the smirk that pulls at your lips.
He huffs a laugh. “You know me better than that.” His foot nudges yours under the table, tentative in a way that makes your chest ache, that maybe it could work.
“I didn’t want to lead you along until I could stay,” he continues. “I don’t do half-measures. If I’m in, I’m completely in.” His gaze locks onto yours. “So, I’m asking you, not assuming and definitely not rushing you.”
He pauses and you stare back at him; your friendship had been stretched almost too far by that night almost a year ago but you had both worked hard to move forward and maintain the friendship you had, however, the way he was looking at you makes you realize this time he means it.
“Would you like to try again,” he says, quieter, “now that I can actually show up?”
"Yes," you smile broadly "you should probably start by buying me a coffee and then figure out how you are going to break it to Ji that you got yourself a girlfriend."
He snorts getting up and walking to the counter not even bothering to ask what you want. Your grin only gets bigger when you hear him order your favorite drink from memory.
Changbin
Changbin is grinning before you even reach him. He looks healthier and more importantly happier. Like someone who finished a long argument with himself and finally won.
“You look good,” he blurts, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded so much smoother in my head.”
You laugh loudly, and his shoulders relax instantly.
“Okay,” he says, taking a breath. “So, remember when I said I didn’t want to give you half of me?”
You nod his words had seared themselves into your heart all those months ago, but you had pushed yourself past them to remain his friend because at least you could still have him in your life.
“Well,” he spreads his arms a little, playful but sincere, “I’ve got more to give now. I figured some stuff out. Therapy. Balance. Sleep. Actually cooking.”
You snort; you can't help yourself.
“I’m serious,” he insists, stepping closer. “I still want you. I still love you that never changed. I just needed to be someone who wouldn’t fumble you.”
His hand hovers, giving you the choice. When you take it, his smile turns soft.
“No mistakes this time,” he says. “Just intention.”
"Intention is a good start but taking me on a date would be a better one" you tease softly squeezing his hand in yours.
"The first of many" he whispered pressing his lips to your knuckles.
Hyunjin
Hyunjin meets you at an art exhibit, because of course he does. He stands beside a sculpture of a woman and child, hands in his pockets, eyes bright when he sees you. There is no hesitation this time. No retreat.
“I used to think love had to hurt to be real,” he says quietly as you stand together. “I was wrong.”
You turn toward him a small smile on your lips. It had taken six long months to get back to what you had previously considered to be your closest friendship so seeing Hyunjin happy made the pain of that day worth it.
“I’ve learned how to stay,” he continues. “How to feel deeply without drowning in it. And every time I imagined a future that felt peaceful… you were there.”
His fingers lace with yours, slow and deliberate, giving you time to pull away should you want to. But you don't, you had wanted him, loved him for years you weren't going to pull away now.
“I don’t want intensity anymore,” he says. “I want consistency. I want us.” He smiles then, soft and sure. “No fear this time,” he adds. “Just choice.”
"Thank you for choosing us, even if it took you a while." you whisper meeting his eyes.
He squeezed your hand “Can I take you to dinner after this? If you don’t already have plans that is” his eyes sone with hopeful adoration. “It can be our first proper date.”
Your smile widens “I would love that Jinnie.”
He grins at the use of his nickname leaning his cautiously to press his lips against your cheek, making your breath hitch. “Good, I need to make up for lost time.”
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies, your continued support means the world to me x
Seungmin seethed with anger. This wasn’t the quiet, simmering kind. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes sharp with frustration as he paced back and forth, like the very room had personally offended him.
“You don’t listen,” he snapped, raking a hand through his hair. “You just assume everything will be fine because you smile and the world bends for you.”
You blinked, sunlight in human form, brows knitting together. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“That’s the problem,” he cut in, his voice cracking just enough to betray him as he came to a stop. “You never mean to hurt anyone. And somehow, that makes it worse.”
The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the distant hum of the city outside the window. You took a careful step closer, your eyes searching his face.
“Seungmin—”
“I don’t like people,” he said, the words sharp and raw, like he was ripping the truth straight from his chest. “They drain you. They disappoint you. They leave. And they expect you to be someone you’re not.”
You didn’t interrupt. You never did. That was your curse and your kindness all at once.
“But you,” he continued, his gaze darkening, hands trembling at his sides, “you walk in like it’s safe. Like warmth is allowed. Like I won’t shatter everything just by touching it.”
Your breath caught.
“I’ve spent my entire life avoiding people because it’s easier to be alone than to care,” he went on, his voice softening despite himself. “And then you showed up. Smiling. Asking about my day. Sitting beside me like I wasn’t made of broken edges.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Do you have any idea how unfair that is?”
You swallowed. “I just wanted you to feel… less alone.”
His eyes snapped to yours.
“That’s it,” he said quietly. “That’s exactly it.”
He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, the storm barely contained. “I don’t like people,” he repeated, slower now. “But you’re the exception. And I hate it. I hate how much I notice when you’re not around. How quiet everything feels without you.”
Your eyes shone, but you were still smiling. Always smiling. “You don’t have to hate it,” you whispered.
His voice broke completely. “I don’t know how not to.”
For a moment, he looked terrified. Vulnerable. Nothing like the grumpy, sarcastic boy everyone thought they knew.
“I care,” he admitted softly. “And I don’t know how to do that safely. But if I don’t say this now, I think it’ll tear me apart.”
You reached for his hand, gentle, like you already knew he might flinch.
“I don’t like people,” Seungmin said one last time, resting his forehead against yours. “But I think I’m in love with you.”
Your smile was soft. Warm. Devastating.
And just like that, the world didn’t feel so loud anymore.
Pairing: Han x reader (established relationship)
Word Count: .6K
Genre: Fluff & Crack
Warnings: None
Your boyfriend really shouldn't snoop
Jisung finds your photo card collection by accident, which is to say, he is absolutely snooping around your Stray Kids collection. He’s supposed to be looking for a charger in your desk drawers. Instead, he finds a binder, tucked away behind your collection of Han Quokka plushies and albums. Clear sleeves, neatly arranged and glimmering under the light like forbidden treasure.
“…Oh,” he says flicking through the pages seeing a theme appearing before him.
“Oh.” This one is louder and you hear the tone from the other room. The dramatic one. The one that means something terrible has happened, like discovering pineapple on pizza or losing at Mario Kart.
You peek around the corner. “What?”
Jisung is sitting on the bed, the binder open on his lap, staring at it like it personally betrayed him. “You,” he says slowly, “have been hiding a homemade shrine.”
“It’s just photo cards, Ji” You smile softly feeling the urge to laugh at him bubble up.
He flips a page. Felix. Felix again. Felix smiling. Felix winking. Felix looking like sunshine had become a human and learned how to pose. Felix being effortlessly sexy. Felix being cute.
Jisung’s jaw drops his eyes wide in indignation. “…Felix?”
You wince. “Yeah.”
He clutches his chest. Literally clutches it. “As in Lee Felix. My band mate? The one who breathes glitter and joy? My sunshine twin?”
“Yes.” You try even harder to swallow your giggle.
“The one who steals hearts just by existing.” His pout is growing by the second.
“That’s him.” You nod.
Jisung falls backward onto the bed with a loud groan, arm flung dramatically over his eyes. “I can’t believe this. I trusted you.”
You finally laugh at him. “Jisung, it’s just a bias.”
He sits up again instantly. “JUST a bias? Do you know how much effort I put into being lovable?”
He gestures wildly at himself. “I rap fast. I make sad songs. I make dumb jokes. I have dimples too.”
“I know Ji.” You walk to the edge of your bed when he is laying pathetically pouting at the ceiling.
“And yet,” he says, flipping the page again, “not a single Han Jisung in the front section.”
“That’s the Felix section.” You sigh knowing what is about to happen.
His voice cracks. “You named the section?”
Before you can answer, he squints at another page. His eyes narrow.
“…Wait.” He flips again. Then again. His expression shifts from betrayal to suspicion. “Why,” he asks slowly, “is Changbin appearing… increasingly often.”
You clear your throat. “Oh. Yeah.”
He looks up at you, hopeful and terrified all at once. “What is Changbin to you?”
“My bias wrecker.” You finish innocently with a small shrug.
Silence for a moment. Then the dramatics evaporate.
Jisung’s shoulders slump. His mouth turns downward. His eyes go big and glossy. He lets out the tiniest, saddest little huff. “Oh.”
He closes the binder carefully and sets it aside like it is too heavy to touch anymore. “So,” he mutters, curling into himself slightly, “I’m not the favorite. And I’m not the threat.”
You sit beside him, nudging his knee with yours. “No Ji, you’re my boyfriend.”
He peeks at you. Another huff. Smaller. Softer. “…Do I at least get a photo card?”
You smile. “I can make you a whole separate Jisung binder.”
He brightens immediately. “Really?”
“With sparkles.” You promise earnestly.
He leans into you, pout fading just enough to press his forehead against your shoulder. “…Okay,” he sighs. “I’ll survive. But Felix is banned from smiling near you.”
Elsewhere in the city in the dance studio, Felix feels his neck begin to itch for no reason at all.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies, all your support and love is greatly appreciated xx
Pairing: Seungmin x reader
Word Count: .8k
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Swearing
Relationships aren't games except no one told Seungmin that.
You don’t find out in a dramatic way. No shouting. No confession under rain. It was worse than that it was completely by accident, in the cliche way of hearing things you shouldn't have.
The dorm door opens quietly, Seungmin and Felix having finally got the hinges fixed so it didn't squeak every time it opens. Because of this when you go to slip your shoes off you can tell they don't know you have arrived. Laughter spills into the entrance hall first. Familiar and comfortable ones. The kind you’d learned to separate by tone alone after the past six months of dating Seungmin.
“…I still can’t believe you pulled it off,” Jeongin says, half-laughing.
"You shouldn't have doubted me,” Seungmin says. “I told you I would.” The voice you loved now sounded different, more indifferent.
"It was a shitty thing to do, Seungmin" Felix interrupts from somewhere deeper in the apartment his deep voice slightly muffled by the distance. You stop loosening your shoe, confused.
“So, what was it, three weeks? A month?” Hyunjin teases ignoring Felix completely.
“Two weeks,” Han casually adds his tone amused.
“Doesn’t matter,” the Jeongin says. “You still won the bet.”
The word slithers around the corner and hooks itself into your chest. A bet?
Seungmin laughs. The familiar easy laugh that slips from his lips when hes enjoying himself. Just like the laugh you’d kissed out of him at 2 a.m. A laugh you thought meant safety. “I didn’t think she’d say yes that fast,” he agrees, like it’s trivia. “I figured I’d have to try harder.”
The room hums with noise, with someone bumping a table, with life going on. Your ears ring anyway.
Han asks, “So… are you actually catching feelings or what?”
There’s a moment of quiet, a pause. Just long enough for hope to try to exist.
“…I mean,” Seungmin says, slower now. “It started as a joke. You all know that. But it isn't anymore.”
It started as a joke. You feel something in your chest shatter, your breath comes out wrong. Too thin. Too loud. You step around the corner into the lounge area finding them sitting around looking at the TV or their phones.
The room freezes. All four of them turn to face you. They are faces that have eaten with you, teased you, welcomed you in like you belonged there, like you were part of their little family. Seungmin's face drains of color.
You look at him like you’re seeing a stranger wearing his skin. “…What bet Seungmin?” you ask, your voice is unnaturally calm. You hear something drop from another room and footsteps, but no one answers. Hyunjin looks down at the floor like it might open up and save them. Han's face flushes vermilion.
Your boyfriend swallows hard. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” That’s his whole defense. Not a denial. Not an apology. Not even a backtrack of what was said.
“Was it,” you say, your voice steady in a way that surprises you, “real at any point?” The silence is heavy now. Suffocating the room with guilt and shame. Felix appears at the door his eyes wide and filled with pity.
Seungmin steps toward you making you take half a step back “It’s not like that anymore. I love you”
Anymore but it was at the beginning, the admission is like a punch to the chest.
“So it was,” you take a deep breath "just a game for you to start with."
Seungmin hesitates and that hesitation says everything he’s too afraid to. You nod slowly, the pieces clicking together with a cruel clarity. The first message. The sudden interest. How perfect the timing had felt. How lucky you’d thought you were.
You smile, small and broken. “Did I help you win something? Dinner? Chores? Bragging rights?”
Seungmin flinches like you have slapped him. “That’s not fair.”
You laugh once. It sounds awful. “Neither was making me the punchline for your fucking amusement.”
“I didn’t mean for it to hurt you,” he whispers desperately. “I swear, I care about you now.”
You shake your head. “You don’t get to decide when this became real. Not when I was not in on the joke”
You turn before he can reach for you. Before he can touch you with hands that once felt like home. He follows you and at the door, you stop.
“For what it’s worth,” you say quietly, coldly. “I wasn’t a game to me. I'm glad you won the bet at least because you've lost me.”
Then you leave. The hallway feels longer than it ever has. Behind you, the laughter doesn't return just the sound of Felix snapping at the others while Seungmin calls your name from the open doorway.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies, I'm back on the angst train apparently xx
Pairing: Han x Reader
Word Count: .4K
Genre: Smut 🔞
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities
a/n: I have no idea where this even came from.
Jisung doesn't care if you get caught or not he is just sometimes too needy to care
"Ji, Chan will be back any second." You whimpered weakly the stretch of your walls around his fat cock making your mind fuzzy. "We can't."
"Shhh, he won't even know." he whispered, smothering your sounds with his lips. He had pinned your chest to the desk the moment Chan left the room tugging your jeans down and your underwear aside before spitting on your folds and punching the air out of your lungs as he sheathed himself inside you bottoming out with a needy groan.
"Too much Ji," you gasped the rawness of your walls yet to give in to the way he was desperately pushing himself deeper into you.
Your boyfriend continued snapping his hips against your arse as he grunted quietly biting his own lip to keep the noise down. "You love it, jagi. Already clenching around me so hard."
You whined arching your back making him moan loudly only to be rewarded with a sharp slap on your right cheek. You couldn't stop the yelp that followed or the way your body reacted as he sped up the moment the door opened and closed rapidly. Turning your head your whole body flushed when you saw Chan standing with his eyes wide, Jisung however kept slamming his hips against yours, his needy gasps and moans loud in your ears.
Chan swallowed hard, you saw his Adam's apple bounce in his throat "Fucking hell" he ground out his eyes glued to where Jisung was stretching you open.
Your brain short circuited and your eyes almost crossed as your orgasm washed over you, your velvet walls clamping down around your boyfriend's cock as wave after wave of pleasure surged through you.
"Holy shit, jagi" Jisung groaned, his hips stuttering as he began to come undone inside you. "You're squirting all over me." He thrust himself into you once more stilling once he bottomed out and painted your walls white with thick ropes of cum.
Chan cleared his throat, his face bright red, his eyes still locked on where you were now leaking your boyfriend's cum and your own arousal, watching it dribble down your thigh.
Jisung turned his head with a broad smirk on his face as he watched his friend stare at the pair of you. "Hey hyung, you wanna have a turn too?" Your walls clenched again around his softening dick "I bet she would love to let you fuck her while we finish writing".
He was right. You would let Chan do whatever he wanted to you.
a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies, I adore you all and am so grateful for your support xx
