lillibet

she/her | 25 | likes to read stuff on here don’t mind me | minors dni

[skzms]

🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter II

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: backstory, jisung is introduced to the crew, the captain and minho have a moment

word count: 7.2k words

warnings: mentions of parent death and pet death (the latter only briefly); attempts at sexual assault; murder; mental health and trauma; nothing graphic! but please be mindful of these warnings!

author's note: aksjdahs thank you so much for all the love on chapter I!!! I swear, this is just the beginning. there is so much more to come. without further ado, have some backstory (check warnings!), jisung meeting the crew, and dramatic man apocalypse minho.

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter I - chapter III (coming march 22, 3pm CET) ->

When you were born, you didn’t cry. They had pulled you from your wailing mother’s womb, and your mouth had stayed stubbornly closed. The midwives had whisked you away in a panic, away from your sobbing mother, into the adjoining room, where they watched you blink up at them and prodded at your slowly purpling cheeks until finally, you had opened your tiny little mouth, your eyes turning into tiny little crescents, and screamed. You often wonder if that was the first time you were the reason for your own downfall, the first time your own actions separated you from those you loved, setting the tone for the rest of your life.

When you were nine, you forgot to give your father your lucky necklace when he left for the sea, and he never returned. For years, you kept the necklace pinned to the wall right next to your bed, where it would be the first thing you saw when you woke up and the last thing you saw before you went to sleep. It was a reminder, a warning to yourself. You never wanted to let yourself forget that you were the reason your father was likely dead at the bottom of the sea.

When you were eleven, your mother remarried. Some rich man she had met she never told you where, and when you were twelve, your ‘new father’, as he called himself, got you a puppy. You called him Davy, like Davy Jones. When you were 14, he killed your puppy in front of your eyes as a punishment for breaking a vase you didn’t even break. You saw the maid bump into it while dusting. He made sure you knew that this death, too, was all your fault. That day was the first time the kraken appeared.

The kraken lived in your chest. It was a hideous creature, slimy and much too big for the space it occupied, so much so that every time it would try to stretch and move, you could feel it, pushing your heart to the side, pressing against your ribcage until you thought it would pop, slimy tentacles reaching up into your throat until you felt like you could no longer breathe. It was also angry. Always angry. It would thrash around, throwing itself against the confines of its bone prison so hard you wondered if one day it would crack ribs. Sometimes it would try to climb out of your throat, blocking your airways until you couldn’t breathe any more, and you could taste the bilious slime of it, nearly making you wretch.

Nonetheless, as with everything, after a while, you got used to its presence.

When you were 15, your mother died. One day, she didn’t appear at breakfast and the man you were forced to call ‘father’ didn’t even make an attempt at pretending he was looking for her. They found her that night, beaten to death in an alley. You hoped she didn’t suffer. You tried to swallow your suffering, protect it from you knew not what. The kraken became a constant companion, writhing in your chest, day and night, getting more violent, more unpredictable, more terrifying every day.

When you were 16, your ‘father’ tried to rape you in your sleep, and you stabbed him 25 times. Technically, it was the first blood you had ever drawn, though when it stained your hands, you could feel the ghosts of your father, of your mother, of Davy in its almost preternatural heat. Nevertheless, you couldn’t get yourself to feel remorse. This was the one death that you did not mind on your ledger. The kraken, too, seemed to like the blood.

Afterwards, you stood up, half-heartedly scrubbed his blood off your hands, packed a bag, leaving your father’s lucky necklace hanging on the bedpost, walked to the shore and enlisted with the first crew you found.

You got lucky with that crew, the captain of which had a daughter himself, somewhere far away. You still believe to this day that he’d seen right through you that cold November night, when you had walked up with only a bag and nothing else in the world, unheeding of the cold or the hollers of random men around you. He barely asked questions, you barely answered, but what you did answer, seemed to satisfy him. He took you on, provided you with your own cabin with a lock and key, and swore you to his protection. When you saw your reflection later that night, there was a thick streak of blood high on your forehead.

The Captain, as you all simply called him, took a liking to you, something that you didn’t find easy to trust. But you proved yourself. You were the hardest worker, the sharpest eye, his most intelligent advisor. So soon he made you his first mate, his apprentice, his protégée. He, and a select few of his crew, taught you how to read maps, how to shoot pistols, how to wield every weapon under the sun – and he taught you everything else, like what it meant to be a captain, what it meant to be responsible for a crew of men, what it meant to make good decisions, the right decisions, and when to concede.

You revered the captain, hung on his every word, believed him to be the best man to have ever lived. You followed his orders blindly, to a T, desperate to prove yourself worthy of his trust, his training. You spent three years on his ship, until you were 19. You didn’t think of the future much, but, one day, after you had led the successful capture of an enemy ship, instead of giving the order to loot and burn it, like he usually did, the Captain turned to you and told you that it was yours; that he had taught you all he knew, that he knew you had a bigger purpose in this world, a fight to lead. He also offered you any of his crew, granted they were willing to go, and his name for you to use in any port you may land.

You had taken his gift, had parted ways with him with nothing more than a low bow, the kraken’s arms tightening around your throat as unshed tears stung your eyes, and you had boarded your ship. The Captain had saluted you as his ship turned westward, and you were left on your own, on your own ship, with your own crew, who suddenly called you captain. You never saw the Captain or his crew again, though you knew they were still out there somewhere, because at every port you landed, you asked if they had seen him lately, and without fail, they always said they did. You breathed a sigh of relief when the years passed and you still got the same answer. Slowly, finally, you let yourself believe that his was a life you didn’t claim.

“Shouldn’t you be walking in the front? I don’t know where we’re going.”

Jisung does his best to try and make his voice sound light, careless, but he’s unable to hide the light tremor of insecurity in it. When he looks back, Chan doesn’t smile, only sighs and pushes past him.

As Chan leads him through the corridors, Jisung racks his brain for what he could’ve possibly done to annoy the man. He had been plenty nice the last couple of days, staying to chat with him for a bit when he brought him food to his cell, asking Jisung if he was cold when they were washing his clothes and even letting him borrow his own coat. But now, now that he was officially a part of them, accepted into their midst by their very own captain, that friendly Chan was nowhere to be found. He doesn’t dare ask, won’t ask. He’ll figure it out. His big mouth may get him in trouble, but he’s always managed to get himself out of it.

They don’t walk for long, but to Jisung it nonetheless feels impressive. The whole ship, a large but stupidly fast frigate, was impressive, seemingly even bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. The captain's cabin and office, situated right underneath the quarterdeck, lies at one end of a wooden corridor, the other end of which forks, the big, heavy door to the deck on the right, a staircase leading down on the left. Jisung has made the trip down this staircase several times now, though so far, his trips always led straight into the lowest parts of the ship, into the darkness, where his cell had been.

But now, Chan stops after the first flight of stairs, wordlessly leads Jisung into a big, warm room. Jisung, having only caught brief glimpses of it, had assumed it to be a type of storage area, but now that he’s walking through it, he realises that it’s a living area, and a pretty cozy one at that. The floor is littered with a haphazard collection of colourful rugs, cushions, blankets, in some spots pushed together to form little conversation circles or shoved into a corner to create little nests. Against one wall, there’s a collection of what Jisung assumes to be dumbbells and a variety of other, heavy things, clearly used as weights. Every available wall space is stacked high with board games and books, framing the portholes where the sun streams in unhindered. Jisung wants to stay, look around, but Chan is still walking, aiming straight for a big set of wooden, swinging doors at the far end of the room, and Jisung hurries after him. Distantly, Jisung becomes aware of the clang of spoons on plates and loud chatter and laughter behind the door, and he panics.

Chan doesn’t give him a chance to catch his breath; when they reach the door, he dramatically pushes both doors open with his hands and stops. All the around 30 men, sitting at a collection of long, wooden tables, chattering and spooning up brown stew from their metal plates, fall dead silent as soon as Chan steps aside and reveals Jisung behind him.

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and sweat starts prickling on Jisung’s neck almost instantly. He wonders what his hair looks like, if his shirt is untucked from when the captain had so offhandedly tipped him over. And the silence won’t end, the only noise in the room coming from the kitchen on the other side of the room, where someone with a shockingly deep voice is singing a sea shanty to himself. Jisung can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and quickly he lowers his head. You already look like a damn squirrel, and now you’re fucking blushing, Jisung, he hears his uncle scream in his head, and he nearly flinches. How is anyone ever supposed to take you seriously if you look like a fucking pussy. Assert your dominance. You’re a Han.

So he lifts his head bravely, though he barely dares look at the faces looking back at him, instead fixing his stare on the wall on the opposite side of the room, squaring his shoulder just slightly as he lets their eyes wash over him.

“This is Han Jisung,” Chan suddenly announces, and Jisung nearly jumps out of his skin. To his left, someone chuckles. Chan’s face is hard, unreadable, and Jisung’s heart picks up its beat again, hammering in his chest uselessly. “He’s the governor’s nephew who we abducted from his ship the other day,” he continues and someone at the far end of the room snorts and mumbles something about how well that ship had burned, then there’s more snickering. It doesn’t seem malevolent, but it’s also definitely not friendly.

“The captain has offered him to become part of our crew,” Chan says then and there’s silence, before whispering breaks out all over the room, “if you have doubts, tell them to me, so I know who to pitch over the side of the ship tonight. The captain has made her decision and if you want to know why, you can ask Jisung yourself. For now, make him feel welcome, you crazy people.”

With that, Chan nods at Jisung, and, to the latter’s horror, leaves the mess, presumably back to his post at the captain’s door. The swinging doors close behind him, leaving Jisung standing in the middle of the room, under the scrutiny of 30 pairs of eyes, with no idea what to do. Does he just sit? Where should he sit? The left table? The right? Should he squeeze in at the end somewhere? No, that will make him look weak, he can’t look weak. You’re safe here, the captain’s soft but firm voice reverberates through his head, and he wants to scoff. He may be safe, but he sure as fuck isn’t welcome. Did Chan have to introduce him as the governor’s nephew?! Well, he supposes they saw him, being dragged kicking and screaming across the plank, shoved down into the hold of the ship.

“I’ve never heard this room so quiet, what the fuck is going on?” the deep voice hollers from the kitchen and Jisung blinks at the doors expecting … well, he doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it sure isn’t a skinny, freckled blonde boy about his age to stride into the mess, wiping his hands on a checkered rag.

“Ah, you’re Jisung!” he exclaims, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he walks towards him with an outstretched hand. “So you took the captain’s offer. Welcome. You won’t regret it.”

He winks at Jisung and Jisung shakes his hand, squeezing it gratefully and trying to smile back at him, but he can tell he’s failing. Because everyone else is still fucking staring.

“My name’s Felix, I’m the cook,” he says lightly and Jisung’s eyes briefly skate over his body. “Oh yeah,” Felix chuckles, “I still have all my limbs. I’m just not a great fighter, so I asked the captain if I could just … not do that, and she agreed.”

Jisung stares at Felix, who’s kind enough not to comment on it, just smiles at him.

“I was about to come out here and eat, but let me fix you up a plate as well. Come,” he says and takes Jisung by the arm, dragging him to a free spot at the end of one of the tables and shoving him onto the bench. Jisung’s wide eyes meet the curious gazes of four men. “Sit here, this is Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin and Hyunjin. Guys, this is Jisung. Why don’t you make him feel welcome, I’ll be right back.”

And with that, Felix flurries out of the room. With Jisung finally seated, a low murmur of conversation finally resumes in the room. Jisung doesn’t remember a single one of the names Felix just rattled off.

“You gave me a really gnarly bruise on my shin,” someone suddenly says, and Jisung snaps his head over at the man he at least knows is Changbin. He grimaces helplessly.

“When we took you to the captain two days ago? And you were kicking and biting and scratching like a feral cat? You really got me in the shin. Still fucking hurts, man.”

“Oh,” Jisung says and blushes. Changbin just raises an eyebrow at him, but Jisung thinks he can see a smile in his eyes, so he takes a chance.

“People usually compare me to a squirrel,” he says lamely, with an uncertain smile, and he’s met with Changbin’s uproarious laughter. It’s so loud he flinches, but he can’t help the little satisfied smile that steals over his face. Finally, he said the right thing. The tall, pretty man next to Changbin gives him a shy smile.

“I like your coat,” he offers gently, and Jisung looks down. Is he making fun of him? He knows he stands out like a sore thumb with it, in his emerald green silk, the coat his uncle had given him for state visits. He did … like the coat, deep down. It made him feel nice. Pretty, even. But he figured it would probably just serve to alienate him further from the new world he had stumbled into. When he looks at the tall man again, he’s smiling, eyes trailing over the fabric. “It’s a very pretty colour.”

Jisung breathes out a quiet thank you, and there’s a beat of silence that weighs on Jisung like a ton of bricks. He needs more of this easy conversation, or he’ll lose his nerve.

“You can borrow it if you want, it would suit you” he says quickly, though he immediately blushes. What is he doing?! These are pirates, and he sounds like a preschooler trying to make friends by lending out his favourite crayons. “I mean, once I have something else to wear because right now, I don’t. So if I gave you this, I’d probably be pretty cold.”

Shut the fuck up, Jisung, he thinks.

But to his surprise, the beautiful man chuckles.

“I’ll help make you more clothes. I actually love sewing, and we collected a bunch of scraps over the past few months,” he says and purses his lips, giving Jisung a once-over. “We’ll make you a new jacket, one that’s more durable, for everyday wear. But we’ll have to make it with a similar cut, it makes your little waist look to die for …”

]Jisung’s breath catches in his throat stupidly at the compliment, and he thinks the man sitting right next to him heard it, if his low chuckle is anything to judge by.

“Stop flirting with the new guy, Hyune,” he teases. His brown hair is shaggy, falls into his eyes that almost disappear when he smiles, drawing up into little crescents. He looks a bit like a fox, Jisung thinks before he can stop himself. Wow, the years of being compared to animals have really done some damage to his brain.

“I’m not flirting with him!” the tall man, Hyune, exclaims, a hand dramatically falling to his chest, “I’m just trying to make sure his best assets are appropriately showcased.”

He grins before he bats his eyes at the man next to Jisung prettily, a wicked little smile on his lips. “Plus, you know I have a crush on you, Innie.”

‘Innie’ next to Jisung rolls his eyes and waves the beautiful man off before he offers Jisung his hand.

“I’m Jeongin, by the way,” he introduces himself kindly as Jisung shakes his big, calloused hand, “I’m the lookout. You’ll usually find me up in the top except at mealtimes, when I condescend to keep these idiots company. And the man trying to dress you up like you’re going on a first date is Hyunjin, he’s our first mate. Think of him as our slave, and he’s much more fun to tease.”

Hyunjin’s face draws into a pout and kicks Jeongin under the table. “I’m the one who makes sure you animals get fed and have enough soap and rum and know where your weapons are, you should respect me more,” he snips back before he smiles at Jisung. “I suddenly don’t have a crush on Jeongin any more, so the spot has become free. You into men?”

Jisung splutters, his whole face turning bright red. How could Hyunjin just say that?! And so loudly – What if everyone hears? Jisung really doesn’t need more of a target on his back than he already does just by being … well, him. His eyes flicker to the other men, but most of them aren’t even listening, or if they are, just looking at him with interest.

“I-,” Jisung stammers out before he clears his throat, “I do. And women. I kinda … like … everything.”

He expects anything, ridicule, violence – but to his astonishment, Hyunjin nods approvingly.

“You really have found the right ship, my friend,” he declares with a pleased smile.

“Of course, he has. Do I even want to ask why you think so, though?”

Felix’s voice suddenly pipes up next to Jisung as he slides a plate of food in front of him. The smell of hot meat and potatoes wafting from it makes Jisung almost shudder. He didn’t realise just how hungry he was.

“Hyunjin is already prospecting Jisung for his matchmaking projects,” the other tall, quiet man next to Hyunjin says. It’s the first time Jisung hears him speak, and he can’t help but notice how soft his voice is.

Felix chuckles next to Jisung as he hands him a spoon – and Jisung doesn’t hesitate to dig it into the stew on his plate, shovelling a hot spoonful of it into his mouth and moaning around it, much to Felix’s joy.

“Good?” he asks, and Jisung just nods at him, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“So good,” he hums, “so much better than any of the food I’ve had in months.”

Felix giggles again and sends him a bright smile. Jisung thinks he could get used to him.

“I can see the squirrel thing now,” Changbin comments from down the table, points at Jisung’s cheeks, stuffed with meat and potatoes. Jisung ducks his head, eyes widening comically, but relaxes slightly when Changbin gives him a wink and a smirk.

“Changbin and Chan are the brawn to our brain,” Jeongin continues, and Changbin sends him a joking middle finger. “They man our cannons and take turns guarding the captain’s quarters when we’re in a harbour.”

Jisung nods, looks Changbin up and down. It makes sense, him and Chan are … ridiculously buff. And strong. Jisung can attest to the last bit, the bruise on his arm is still a deep purple.

“And the quiet one is Seungmin,” Jeongin concludes, watches Seungmin with a small smile as he lifts his hand, “he’s our navigator. Gets us places, makes sure we don’t run aground on a sandbank or a rock. He’s also a cartographer, one of the best out there. He’s mapped out pretty much every inch of these waters.”

Seungmin looks at Jisung, his face an impassive mask. It makes Jisung almost uneasy.

“I’ve been staring at that fucked up map we found on your uncle’s ship for days, and my head hurts.”

Jisung blinks dumbly.

“Fucked up map?” he asks incredulously, and awkwardness descends on the table. What map? Jisung wonders. He had only had a normal map in his quarters.

Felix gives Seungmin a look.

“Let’s let Jisung settle in first, Seungmin,” he suggests calmly, and Seungmin just shrugs, though his eyes stay fixed on Jisung.

“I really don’t know what map you’re talking about,” Jisung mumbles quietly, feeling the need to defend himself. Seungmin’s eyes are still boring into him, and he pretends he’s suddenly very engaged in mashing a potato into his stew until it has entirely disintegrated.

The swinging doors behind Jisung slam open and Jisung looks up just in time to meet Minho’s eyes. They narrow slightly at him before he saunters over to their table and comes to stand behind Felix, placing his hands on Felix’s shoulders and massaging them lightly.

“My sweet, sweet Yongbok,” Minho lilts with a smile, though something seems off, “is there any food left?”

Felix nods and looks up at him, either entirely unaware of it or choosing to ignore it. Jisung thinks the latter.

“Sure, enough for you and the captain as always, I assume she hasn’t eaten yet either.”

Jisung watches a barely perceptible shadow creep over Minho’s face.

“Changbin’s done, he can bring her some. Can’t you?” Minho sneers as he turns on his heels and walks into the kitchen. Seungmin gives Changbin a look, but Changbin balks. Only when Felix nods towards the kitchen does he sigh deeply and push himself to his feet.

“What’s his deal?” Jisung asks quietly, hesitantly, when the heavy swinging doors close behind him.

“Who? Minho?” Hyunjin asks, surprised.

Jisung nods.

“I’m pretty sure he hates me,” he mumbles around a mouthful of meat.

“Why, did you kick him, too?” Jeongin asks teasingly.

Jisung chuckles, mirthlessly.

“No, he slapped me, actually,” he scoffs out, the memory of it so crystal clear in his head, the shock, the smarting pain, “and called me pretty in like, the least flattering way possible. And earlier, when I was talking to the captain, he only glared at me, like I was the one who made her mad at him or something.”

He thinks he sees Hyunjin throw Felix a glance, and Jisung wonders if he said something stupid.

“The captain was mad? At Minho?” Felix asks, gently, but Jisung can practically feel the subtext. He doesn’t try to figure out what he knows he can’t. He nods.

“We were talking when he suddenly stormed in, all crazy-looking, asking if her all these questions about why she was talking to me alone, asking her if she had gone crazy.”

Jeongin next to him sucks in a breath. Jisung tenses up. He probably went too far. He swings his spoon around in a way that hopes feels casual, dismissive.

“I probably shouldn’t have said all that, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, trying to shove the tension back into whatever Pandora’s box he just unwittingly opened, but obviously, he fails.

The crash of Minho slamming his plate down onto the table in Changbin’s abandoned spot rips Jisung out of his thoughts.

Changbin walks past behind Jisung with a plate in his hand, shooting Minho a dirty glare, one the older man returns tenfold as he all but dismembers a piece of carrot.

“Minho,” Hyunjin starts, his voice so soft it surprises Jisung, “why is Changbin bringing the captain her food?”

Minho doesn’t even look at Hyunjin as he shrugs.

“Why not?”

“Usually, you do that. Usually, you have your meals with her.”

Minho stops his assault on his food and looks at Hyunjin with a sarcastic smile.

“What, am I not welcome here?” he asks, acrid sweetness dripping off his words. But Hyunjin doesn’t budge.

“Of course, you are,” he says, rubbing Minho’s shoulder briefly, before pulling his hand back. “I was just wondering if everything is okay.”

Minho slams his fist down on the table so loud the chatter around them falls silent again as everyone watches.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to imply, Hwang, but I’d recommend you shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” he barks.

Hyunjin lifts both his hands up defensively, an unhappy grimace on his face.

“Calm down, I’m not trying to imply anything, Min, I was just asking if you’re okay.”

Minho rises, slams his spoon onto his plate with a clang.

“I’m just fucking fine. The captain is fine. Everything’s fucking fine, why don’t you mind your own fucking business, all of you,” he snarls, picks up his plate and storms out.

Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh, his head hitting the tabletop with a painful-sounding thud.

“Not your finest work,” Seungmin comments from his side, but his tone is sympathetic. He pats Hyunjin’s shoulder. Jeongin gets up and rounds the table, settling into Minho’s abandoned seat, and tugs Hyunjin into his shoulder quietly. Hyunjin falls readily, his frustrated groan turning into a deep sigh when Jeongin’s arm wrap around him.

Felix next to Jisung claps his hands and gets up, smiling down at Jisung awkwardly, almost apologetically.

“How about we give you a tour and Hyunjin can get a cabin ready for you in the meantime,” Felix suggests, and Jisung recognises it for the hint it is. He nods, tries his best at a non-committal smile, and is almost glad to flee the scene of whatever crew drama he just witnessed.

Jisung gets a tour, gets to see Jeongin press a sweet kiss into Hyunjin’s hair right there in the middle of the deck that makes Jisung look around in a panic to see absolutely nobody batting an eye. If Jeongin sees it, he mercifully doesn’t comment, only smiles and waves to Jisung before he climbs up the sails so fast Jisung feels like he’s getting whiplash from just watching him. Felix drags him along, chattering about the ship and the crew as he shows him around the main deck, making a wide berth around where Minho is lying in a hammock on the forecastle, pointedly not even opening his eyes when he hears their voices.

Felix pointedly ignores him back, pulls Jisung back to the big heavy door that leads below deck, past the split path that leads to the captain’s quarters, where Hyunjin briefly disappears into the captain’s office and where Chan sends Jisung a much nicer smile now, down past the officer’s quarters (“Minho’s quarters,” Felix comments lowly, wiggling his eyebrows as if he’s telling a ghost story, but Jisung can’t muster up more than a tense smile.

He takes him back downstairs, shows him the living area again, tells him which books are worth reading, which games are worth playing (his favourite is jackstones, the set they have is a beautiful copper) and shows him his kitchen, including which things in the cooler are available to be taken as snacks and which are definitely not, because it would result in the downfall of his carefully constructed meal plan.

Then they make their way a story lower, to the gun-ports and the weapons storage, where Hyunjin magically reappears and drags them away before Jisung can even ask about a weapon of his own. His face gets hot when he realises that they don’t trust him yet. Of course.

Felix takes him one layer lower, through the storage rooms and past the cells that Jisung was already much too well acquainted with for his liking, before leading them back up to the common area and through a side door. To Jisung’s surprise, he finds himself in a tight web of hallways, a labyrinth of doors. Hyunjin ducks past him, makes a sweeping gesture with his arms.

“These are the cabins,” Hyunjin announces, grandly, proudly. He pushes the door open to one of them, revealing a decently sized room with two bunk beds, a chest of drawers and a desk. It’s rudimentary, but the pillows look soft, all the sheets made from a patchwork of fabrics that he thinks must be Hyunjin’s doing.

Wait, bunk beds. Does this mean … Jisung feels like someone dumped a bucket of icy water over his head. Would he have to room with a stranger? Get changed in front of him? Go to sleep in front of him? He tries his best to regulate his breathing, but when Felix’s hand hits his shoulder, he’s pretty sure he’s still just staring into the room dumbly. Should he say something? Don’t be a pussy, his uncle yells in his head, you just give them mixed signals.

“Jisung,” Felix says gently, and Jisung shakes out of his reverie with a start. He’s about to apologise, but Felix gives Hyunjin a look, and then he takes Jisung’s hand (not his wrist, his hand, Jisung notices with a shudder) and drags him along the corridor until he kicks open a door.

“This is my cabin,” Felix says slowly, watching as Jisung takes it all in.

This cabin looks just like the other one, except the top bunk looks … lived in. The sheets are somewhat coordinated in colour and crumpled on the bed. There are small candleholders with half burned down candles dotted all around the headboard of the bed. A thick knitted sweater hangs off the bedpost, a dried flower dangles from the porthole. The room seems to be close to the water, but it’s high enough that a single ray of sunshine falls onto the floor. Jisung feels a pang of longing, somewhere deep in a part of his heart he thought was long abandoned. It’s so … comfortable. So homey. He can’t believe he’s on a ship. He hasn’t … hasn’t felt this at home in months.

“It’s … lovely,” Jisung breathes out, distantly aware of Felix giving Hyunjin a smile before he turns back to him.

“How would you like to be my roommate?” Felix asks, and Jisung takes a second to process his question before he starts and turns to stare at Felix dumbly.

“I mean,” Felix continues, his confident demeanour crumbling, eyes suddenly shy, “I have to get up pretty early in the morning to get breakfast started, but unless you’re a super light sleeper, I don’t think I’ll wake you.”

“I sleep like a rock,” Jisung says, it comes out as barely more than a whisper.

Felix’s grin widens.

“So … is that a yes?”

Jisung takes all but two seconds to think about it before he nods, a relieved smile on his face. Felix doesn’t look like he’ll assault him. Felix seems safe.

Hyunjin claps his hands happily, tells them to settle Jisung in, to come to him if they need anything and though Jisung’s heart is hammering in his chest, he can’t help but smile when Felix helps him find some downy yellow sheets and a fluffy pillow in a stuffed cabinet down the hall.

He feels no trepidation when, later that night, he buries himself under the blankets in a soft sleep shirt Felix let him borrow. Though his worries gnaw at him, sit in the back of his head as he stares at the dark wood of the door, listens to Felix’s steady breathing above him.

“Felix?” he asks quietly, “should we … I mean, do you usually … it’s okay if you don’t … uh … do you not lock your door at night?”

He screws his eyes shut, braces himself, but Felix doesn’t laugh at him, just pops his head over the side of his bunk and looks down at Jisung with a soft smile. But there’s something in his eyes that Jisung can’t place.

“If it would make you feel safer, we can.”

Jisung thinks it would, but shakes his head nonetheless. He’s not going to make this weirder than it already is. He can deal. Probably.

“No, no, it’s okay, if you don’t usually lock it, then I guess there’s no need,” he mutters, trying to sound casual, but failing spectacularly, his voice a shaky mess.

But Felix still doesn’t laugh at him, only swings his legs over the side of his bunk and plops down. He pads to the door on his bare feet, turns the key, shoots Jisung a little smile and climbs back up to his bunk.

“You’re safe here, Jisung,” he says softly, into the darkness when he has wriggled back into his sheets. Jisung feels every word warm in his belly. “On this ship, we’re family. We look out for each other.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as Jisung’s face burns, his heart rabbits in his chest. Then, quietly, hoping that Felix hasn’t fallen asleep yet, he mumbles a weak “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Felix just yawns and blows out his candle. “Good night, Jisung.”

Jisung mutters a quiet, “good night, Felix”, and turns to his side.

Through the porthole he can see the moon, outside the door he can hear footsteps approach and then pass every now and again, doors open and close, merry laughter and yelling ringing distantly through the hallways all the way from the common room. He lets it all wash over him and tries to think through everything that has happened today, thinks he should try to process it, but he’s too tired, bone-tired in a way he has never felt before. He lets the sea rock him to sleep gently, and he sleeps, sleeps through the night for the first time in months.

The morning sun slants through the big stained-glass windows behind your desk like they only do in the spring, right after sunrise, their cold, yet rapidly warming rays playing tricks on your eyes, making shadows dance across the wood every time the ship rocks in the waves. You’re still towelling your hair dry when there’s a knock at the door to your office. You start. Chan and Changbin are not usually up this early.

“Yes?”

The door opens and Minho barges in, not even bothering to close it behind him or throw you more than a cursory glance before he starts talking.

“We should get aligned on what your plans are for the new guy, captain,” Minho states, voice as neutral as you’ve ever heard it, and your heart sinks. You lower your towel slowly.

“Align?”

You watch Minho falter painfully, blinking rapidly at the floor, before he folds his hands behind his back dutifully. You hate this posture. He feels so far away.

“O-of course, my apologies,” he clears his throat, trying to straighten his back like it’s difficult for him to do so, “it’s of course perfectly within your right to not want me involved. I apologise for overstepping. I will leave you to it.”

He turns to leave without looking at you, but you surge forwards without thinking, catching his wrist to stop him. You tug him back gently, until he’s in front of you, but he still refuses to meet your eyes, eyes locked onto the floor somewhere on his left, his face locked in a tense, unhappy scowl. You’re gentle with it when you finally place both your hands on his jaw and gently turn his head, force him to meet your stern gaze. He looks a little tired, and there’s a guardedness in his eyes that hurts you.

“Minho,” you whisper quietly, and you can feel his breath hitch, “I want you here. For this, for all of it.”

Your heart starts hammering in your chest when you realise what you said, the words resembling a little bit too closely a confession you’re not ready to make. Minho doesn’t answer, just watches you so intently you have to look away, your hands falling from his face until they’re resting on his waist.

“I’m sorry I treated you so harshly yesterday,” you mumble quietly, without looking up, talking to the dark, starched material of his vest. You wish you could nuzzle into the skin you know it hides and avoid having to say all of these words. “You have to understand how hard I have to work for the boys to respect me. And you barging in on me talking to a new recruit and calling into question not only my authority but also my abilities, I can’t … I couldn’t …”

You struggle to find the words and deflate slightly, but now it’s Minho who takes your face into his calloused but gentle hands and slightly tips it upwards until you’re forced to look at him. His presence, his closeness, washes over you like a warm, gentle breeze.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, sincerely, “I never meant to question you, I was just …”

He hesitates, his eyes slipping shut as he lets his head fall forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“You were what?” you breathe out, even though you know the answer. You know the answer, and it’s making your heart rattle against your ribcage.

“I was so fucking worried,” Minho whispers, his eyelids heavily fluttering open, “what if the guy had planned something? What if he had had a knife on him? What if he had overpowered you?”

His voice is getting progressively shakier, and you pull him closer, flush against you, instinctively. You’d rarely seen Minho this worked up, and you feel the overwhelming urge to calm him. You let your hands rub up and down his spine, and he barely perceptibly shivers.

“You know I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but I can’t take any chances,” he breathes back, leaning forward and brushing his lips gently over yours in a gesture so intimate you want to sob. “What if something happened to you? What then?”

Your eyes lock for a second, and it’s like everything you’re terrified of, every single ounce of love he holds for you is right there, staring back at you. The kraken awakens, rolling in its prison, its tentacles feeling their way around your chest until one of them finds your heart and squeezes. A deep, threatening groan rumbles from deep within its chest as it thrashes with a disgusting squelch. You try to take a deep breath to pacify the beast, but it comes out almost pained. You stare up at Minho, the pain in your chest worsening the longer you let yourself indulge in their deep, warm depths.

“B-because I-I’m your captain, right?” you whisper, barely audibly, and Minho pauses. He blinks down at you, then moves as if to step away, jerks almost from your grasp. Your arms tighten around him instantly, a choked sound ripping from your trembling lip as you pull him back, digging your fingers into his back. You know you’re clinging onto him, pathetically, tellingly, paradoxically, but … you’re terrified.

Terrified that if he steps away from you, if his warmth leaves you, the kraken will finally find enough strength to escape, to shatter your ribs one by one, to tear open your chest and leave you to bleed out on the floor as it crawls away to find a new, stronger victim.

Minho doesn’t fight the tightening of your arms. He lets you tug him closer, presses himself even closer still, brings his soft palms back to your face, his thumbs swiping over your cheeks gently. His face is a grimace of pain and love, and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly before he blinks them back open.

“Because you’re my captain,” he affirms, and you can tell he’s lying, but it’s okay because if he’s lying for you, it means he knows, he understands. The kraken cowers, softens its hold on your heart and when you lean forward and press your lips to Minho’s, and he returns it instantly, unhesitatingly, all thoughts of it slip from your mind like sand through your fingers. Because Minho understands, and Minho’s still kissing you.

You breathe a sigh of relief, Minho’s soft lips soothing over yours gently, slowly, until you press closer. He groans, sweetly, brokenly, when you run your tongue over his bottom lip and uses his grip on your face to angle your head to the side. You part your lips readily, submitting to Minho’s tongue when it dips into your mouth, tangles with yours. He isn’t demanding, but there’s something wild in the way one of his hands slips to the back of your neck, thumb digging into the side of your jaw as he tries to pull you even closer, a breathless gasp escaping into your mouth when you suck on his tongue slightly.

“Captain, I– …”

Chan’s voice brutally ruptures the moment and you and Minho flinch apart, clumsily, your bodies detangling, your hand coming up to wipe a remnant of spit from your lips. Chan’s mouth is open, and he blinks from you to Minho stupidly before he suddenly whirls around as if he had caught you in a state of undress. The tips of his ears are burning.

“I am so sorry, captain, the door was open and – I didn’t see anything, I promise. I’ll come back later.”

And with that, he takes off, his footsteps fast and heavy as he bolts downstairs.

< chapter I - chapter III (coming march 22, 3pm CET) ->

series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi

🔖 series taglist and general taglist open! be 18+ and have your age in bio when you ask to be added

taglist part 1: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148 @caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja @maximumkillshot @sungprotector @stayconnecteed @mellhwang @chlodavids @kookiesbunny @noellllslut @warren-thedarkangel @kidrauhlschik @anyhow-everything @krishastumblernow @cutiespaghetti @hobi-szn @usagi---mochi @stolasisyourparent @steadysuitenthusiast @queen-in-the-shadows

@ayoitschannie @starsandrqindrops @redstayrosie @vitrealisbunny @seukijeuxq @bakedlilgoonie @bookworm731 @jazziwritesthings @katsukis1wife @minhos4thkitty @gbskzlover @armystay89 @chuwii3o @foivetimesacharm @palindrome969 @luvyev @binnies-binna @gimmeurtmi @ashareeboobear

[brswyn]

wolfchan version just cause

[hyunniesgirl]

I wanna be yours

Pairing: Bangchan x fem!reader

Summary: it was all a game to him, until all he could think about was you. He wanted to have all of you. Ruin all of you. Love all of you.

Or, the one where Chan is a cocky asshole who's going out with you just for fun and ends up falling in love.

Slightly inspired in the movie 10 things I hate about you.

Genres: angst, smut, fluff

Words count: 10,991

Masterlist

This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact!

Warnings: Corruption kink(kinda), dry humping, fingering, blowjob, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, pet names(princess, baby), Chan is cocky as fuck(and I'm here for it, stan cocky Bangchan), reader gets kinda insecure close to the end(let me know if I missed something)

A/N: should I be answering my requests or updating my series? Yes, did I spend too much time in a super long self indulgent oneshot? I did. It was supposed to be just smut with corruption kink 😭 turns out I can't write the porn without the plot.

It all started as a game for him. He just didn't guess how much you would mess with his head.

Bang Chan doesn't care much about college, with a promising career in music, he's just attending classes so his parents won't nag him too much.

That means he's bored all the time.

So when Jeongin, his youngest friend, begged him to win his girlfriend's sister over and date her for a bit, he almost accepted right away, yearning for some fun. But he didn't, not before knowing who you were.

That's how he ended up here, trying to find you in the middle of communication class. He didn't need to look too much, from Jeongin’s description, he could find you in the blink of an eye.

“A pretty girl, probably wearing black or some neutral color and she'll probably be in a corner. She's very shy, when you speak to her don't be too straightforward, you may scare her”

The way Jeongin described you didn't show any ill intent and he was always a good guy, that's why Chan considered accepting his offer in the first place. He must have his reasons for almost kneeling in front of his friend, asking for him to date you.

Chan sits behind you, observing every movement you make. You're indeed pretty and you really are shy. He notices how you want to raise your hand every time the professor asks a question, but you always hesitate and someone speaks over you. Every time you try to speak, some rude person cuts you and instead of getting mad, your face turns red and you shrink in your seat, trying to make yourself even more invisible.

There's something about you, Chan can't tell what it is, but it's something amusing about how you behave. Someone like you could have every guy in this university wrapped around your little finger and every girl wanting to be your friend.

As soon as the class ends, Chan sends a text to Jeongin, telling him he will do it. He doesn't waste time, waiting for everyone to get out of the classroom while you're still collecting your things.

“Hey”, he says out of nowhere, making you jump and look at him with huge doe eyes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you”.

He kinda did want that, though, curious to see how you would react, he thought maybe you would raise your voice and curse him, but you reacted as calmly as possible.

“It's okay”, you mumble.

You keep organizing your things, trying to ignore his presence.

“So, I wanted to ask if you can let me borrow your notes”, he asks, making puppy eyes.

You turn back to him and Chan can almost see the gears turning inside your head.

“Why does he want my notes if he just attended the same class?” It's written all over your face.

“I pulled an all nighter studying for another class and kind of dozed off earlier”, he lies, smiling sheepishly while scratching the back of his neck.

You stare at him for a bit, pondering if you should say yes, actually, let's be real: can you even say no?

This is Bang Chan, handsome and popular, everyone knows him and the other two guys from 3racha. The last you heard, he didn't care much about classes since he's already progressing in his music career so you still don't understand why he wants to borrow your notes.

“Yeah, okay”, you nod, deciding to agree so this conversation can be over soon. You pull your notebook out of your bag and hand it to him. “Just make sure to give it back by next class”

“Sure, thanks”, he gives you a big bright smile that makes you gulp while staring at him, just a few minutes in his presence and you already know something very important: this man is dangerous.

You look around awkwardly, not knowing what Chan wants more. He's just standing there, staring at you.

“I'll get going then”, you sigh, feeling exhausted by this whole interaction.

You turn around, walking to the door, leaving Chan there, dumbstruck. Jeongin was right, you have no social skills, but you're much more entertaining than he made you out to be.

—

You're having lunch with Yuna, your sister, and Jeongin, her boyfriend, in the cafeteria. You like spending time with them, they are probably the only people you feel comfortable around in this university.

You met Jeongin three months ago. Your sister came home giggling like a child on Christmas, sat on your bed and told you she got a boyfriend.

You ran to your door, closing it after checking that your parents weren't around. There's only one rule in the house: your younger sister must not date before you do.

Your parents are not conservative or anything like that, they just had you two later than other parents, so they are very overprotective. You don't know exactly the reason why they set this rule, maybe it's because they are sure you're never going to date.

Yuna is your best friend, she was a sickly child so all those interactions and fights that normal sisters have, you didn't. You spent most of her childhood and a huge part of yours by her side in the hospital. Fortunately, she was able to go back to a normal life by the time she was becoming a teenager, she was always a social butterfly even in the hospital everyone loved her.

You always thought it was unfair that she had to wait to have a boyfriend simply because you are not interesting enough or can't even hold a conversation properly without stuttering, but there was nothing you could do about it. You even tried arguing with your parents about it but it always ended with them telling you to forget about it.

You see Jeongin waving to someone, something is off, they never invite anyone to eat with them. A tray is settled by your side and you look at the person who sits in the seat next to yours: Bang Chan.

“Hello again”, he smiles at you, a handsome smile with dimples showing and everything. He greets the others after.

You look at Yuna and Jeongin, she is frowning just like you and her boyfriend is eating like this is an ordinary situation in your daily lunch.

“Hi”, you sister answers, “I don't think we met before”

“Oh, yeah, I'm Bang Chan!” He stretches his hand so she can shake it. “Jeongin is an old friend and I have communication class with y/n”

“Ah”, she nods, looking at her boyfriend. You stay in silence, playing with your food, waiting for Jeongin to send Bang Chan away.

“Babe, I forgot I have a project due tonight”, Jeongin says, slapping the palm of his hand on his forehead. He stands up, “can you help me? Chan will keep y/n company.”

No. You don't want him to keep you company. Your eyes widen and you stare at your sister, trying to send her a mental signal so she won't let you alone with him.

What you don't see, it's that she has already caught up on the way Bang Chan is looking at you and she might think she understands what's happening.

“Okay, yeah. Take care of her”, your sister says, smiling apologetically to you while she gets up and follows Jeongin out of your sight.

You should just throw your food away and go to the library, maybe you can eat a sandwich.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” You hear Bang Chan's voice before you can put your plan into practice, turning around to look at him with the most terrified face he ever saw on someone. “Ouch, does the idea scare you so much?” He jokes.

“Why would you want to go on a date with me? We just met yesterday”, you point out, holding yourself back so you won't just stand up and run away.

“I find you interesting, it's just a date so we can get to know each other better”, he shrugs. He's so nonchalant about it, while you're freaking out inside.

“I don't think that's a good idea, I'm not good at keeping conversations, you'll get bored”, you say frantically. You just didn't expect him to laugh.

“I can do all the talking, I love to talk"

Chan knows this move is risky and there's a high probability you won't accept, but he just felt like asking you at that moment.

“Are you sure you won't get bored?” You ask.

His eyes widen and he nods, are you really considering it?

You are, obviously. You bet no one could ever guess, but Bang Chan is your ideal type, actually he is probably everyone's ideal type.

He has the kindest smile you have ever seen and the way his eyes turn into crescents when he's smiling makes your legs weak. He met you yesterday, but you know him since 3racha performed in the university’s festival last year. Since the first time you two crossed paths, everything about him, appearance wise, seemed appealing: his dark eyes, his smile, his dark curls, his broad shoulders and his muscular body. That's why you freaked out so much when he spoke to you yesterday, you never thought he would give you the time of day. So you would be dumb to reject his offer.

“Okay”, you nod, handing your phone to him. “You can put your number there, I'll text you so you can save my contact”, you say and he stares at the device for a few moments before picking it up and typing his number.

This was easier than he thought.

—

“Do you have pepper spray with you?” Your mother asks for the 30th time in the last hour.

“Yes, mom. I'm going on a date with another student, he's not a criminal”, you tell her and your father tsks.

“There are alot of students that commit crimes”, he says.

“I know”, you sigh, “don't worry, I have pepper spray, emergency numbers and I'll turn on my localization”

Your sister is watching the scene unfolding in front of her, while she chuckles.

“You shouldn't laugh, if I start dating you will go through the same thing when it's your time”, you whisper at her and she sighs.

“You're not going to this date just so I can officially date Jeongin, right?”

You grin.

“You think too highly of me, I'm not that selfless”, you hear the sound of a horn in front of your house, “I'm going on this date because he's hot”

Chan thought you were pretty in your everyday clothes but after seeing you ready for your date he just couldn't take his eyes off you. You're wearing a little sundress with thin straps holding your much too generous and low cleavage. Your hair is down and your lips are red with lipstick.

He's waiting for you outside of the car so he can open the door for you, but when you stop in front of him, he just doesn't move.

You frown, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Are you okay?” You ask and he snaps out of his daze.

“Yeah, you're just too pretty”, he tells you honestly, “I just couldn't believe I'm so lucky”

You feel your skin hotter, you're sure your whole face must be red like a tomato.

The restaurant you are going to have dinner at is a bit further than you thought, it takes at least one hour by car to get there.

“Were all the places close to the city closed?” You try making a joke and he smiles.

“Considering your personality, I thought you would like this place better”, he tells you while you go in. A person greets you two, leading you inside. There's no open space, the building is full of rooms and you're guided to one of those. There's a glass wall in the back of the room with a view to a lake and a waterfall, there's colorful lights everywhere, making it even more beautiful.

“So, when I was searching for a nice place to go on a date, I came across this one.” Chan starts speaking and you notice there's a small stove on top of the table. “There's no attendants, so we will cook our own food and only call them if we want more servings”, he explains, pulling the chair so you can sit.

“Oh”, you feel a weird feeling on your stomach, are these the butterflies your sister told you about? You never knew something like this existed and the fact that he was attentive enough to take your shyness into consideration while choosing the place of your date makes you melt inside. “Thank you”, you tell him after sitting.

You don't shut up the whole night. This is the first time you feel so comfortable with someone other than your family.

“So, you want to work with entertainment?” He asks surprised.

“Yes, I really like the whole thing about managing an artist, it sound exciting”, you smile happily, “who knows, maybe one day I can manage 3racha”

“You have heard 3racha?” Chan asks, surprised.

“I really like your music”, you tell him, “besides, everyone knows about you guys”

“Yeah, but I didn't know you knew about us”, he smiles charmingly, leaning on the table while clasping his hands. “So does that win me some points? Maybe a kiss?”

You already are red because of the wine, now you feel your whole face hot. You're already feeling a bit out of it, not drunk enough to make a bad decision but definitely drunk enough to lose a bit of your shyness.

“I don't know how to kiss”, you say simply, no further explanation.

Chan almost chokes on the air he just breathed, he didn't think you would be so blunt about it. Curiously, he finds your innocent face while saying that too enticing.

“I can help you with that”, he says, tilting his head and winking.

“Would you really?” You ask and he nods. “Like now?”

Chan didn't expect that to happen so soon, especially with someone as shy as you. But he won't refuse your offer.

“Are you done?” He asks, eagerly, standing up and you nod. Chan stretches his hand to you, waiting for you to hold it.

He takes you to his car, helping you get in and fastening your seatbelt. He's not in his right mind, not at all, he didn't even drink so why is he so excited? He doesn't think he ever felt this way about a kiss. He drives for a while, looking for the drive in movie theater he had read about while looking for the restaurant.

After fifteen minutes he parks his car behind others, there are a lot of people there to watch the movie.

You have your hands on your lap, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. It's so endearing how innocent you are.

“Would you like to take a seat?” He asks and you frown, looking around and then looking at him. You are already seated.

He tilts his head, chuckling and patting his lap. You nod so fast, it's embarrassing. He smiles, seeing you climb on top of him, legs are over the cup holder, you're using him as a literal seat.

“You never kissed anyone?” He asks, while you adjust yourself on top of him, his breath hitting your neck, making goosebumps rise all over your body. You shake your head, feeling a bit insecure, what if you are no good?

Chan bites on his lower lip, shifting a bit so you won't feel his hardening cock under you, you're just too cute, too sexy.

“Okay, I'll go slowly, we can stop anytime you want”, he tells you, brushing his hand on your arm all the way to your neck, making you close your eyes to his touch. He pulls your face closer, touching your lips with his, it's warm and soft, it feels like heaven.

He brings his other hand to your cheek, caressing. He pulls back a bit, just enough so he can speak.

“Open your mouth for me, baby”, he tells you and you obey instantly, feeling his lips back on yours. His tongue brushes against yours and you whine, lifting your hands to grab on his shoulders to steady yourself, causing your ass to rub on his cock. Chan groans, making you flinch, did you do something wrong?

He notices your hesitancy, so he slides his hand to your waist, squeezing you in reassurance.

“Are you sure you have never done this?” He asks playfully and you smile, shyly.

“Can- Can we do it again?” You whisper, making him chuckle. Dear god, would he be able to stop this with just kisses?

“Did you like kissing me, princess?” He teases, seeing you blush. Chan wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. He lands a kiss on your exposed collarbone, tracing kisses up to your neck.

“You smell so good”, he tells you before leaving a kiss on your jaw, then on your chin and finally a peck on your lips.

“Must taste even better”, he thinks, smiling to himself.

Your phone starts ringing, taking you two out of that hazy atmosphere. You feel embarrassed now, not believing you actually acted that way. Going back to your seat, you pick up the call, it's Yuna.

“Mom and dad are freaking out because you stopped moving for too long”, she whispers. Shit, you forgot your localization was turned.

“Tell them you called Chan and I'm alright, my phone just died”, you instruct her.

“Yeah, got it, just hurry”

Chan probably heard the conversation, but you still feel upset that he started the car right away and drove fast back to your home.

When you arrive in front of your house, you're not sure if you should kiss him goodnight or just wave, both are awkward options for you, so you go with the one you want the most.

You grab his arm and pull him closer to you, kissing him on the lips. Chan is quite surprised with your bold action, but he won't complain, he can't get enough of your lips.

“I will text you when I get home”, he says after pulling away and you nod.

You get out of the car and walk to your door, stealing glances at Chan. He's giggling at your antics, watching until you are safe inside your house.

He should be thankful to Jeongin, he's finally having a good time.

—

Chan is taking his mission seriously, he's texting you everyday and even stopped seeing all his fuck buddies. This is the closest he ever got to a relationship, but you're not official yet.

Especially not when you're avoiding him like the plague when it comes to meeting face to face. You answer his texts normally but he has to literally hunt you down so he can find you in this damn university and if you see him before he sees you, it's game over, you'll hide immediately and he has to begin his search all over again.

This time, though, he caught you off guard. You are at the library, seated alone, trying to focus on the book you have in your hands.

He smiles to himself, knowing you can't escape anymore. Chan leans over, caging your body with his two hands around you, gripping the table.

“I missed you, baby”, he whispers and you shiver, feeling butterflies on your stomach.

“H-hi”, you say, closing your book and taking a deep breath.

You will not try and pretend you didn't hide from him for almost a week. But that's not your fault, it's your brain's.

After Chan left you home, you ran to your room, still feeling all tingly and hot from kissing him. Since Yuna didn't come to your room you guessed she was already asleep, so you took your makeup off, took a long bath and snuggled in your nice sheets.

The thing is: you had the most lewd, filthy, awfully good dream that night. You could never even say the things Chan did to you in that dream out loud.

You woke up sweaty, heavy breathing and panties soaked, this never happened to you before.

You just couldn't look at his face after that, you felt dirty and guilty with having those thoughts about such a nice guy.

“Am I wrong or were you avoiding me?” He asks, not moving from behind you.

“No- I wasn't”, you turn around to look at him, bumping into his face too close from yours. He glances at your lips, biting his lower one and chuckles. “I was just, hm, kinda embarrassed”, you tell him, aware that he's going to know right away if you try lying.

“Embarrassed about what?” He asks, tilting his head.

“I don't know”, you look away, trying not to give in and tell him about your dream.

“I think you should come to my place so we can talk about it”, he says and you choke on your own spit, struggling to function correctly. Did he just ask you to go to his house? Just you? And him? Just the two of you?

The apartment is not far from the campus, it's a maximum twenty minutes walk. The building is nice and modern, it absolutely matches what you had imagined Chan’s place would look like.

His apartment is huge, it's not possible that he lives there alone.

“I have three roommates, Jisung and Changbin you already know and Hyunjin, he's an arts major”

“Hwang Hyunjin? I know him, he's friends with my sister”, Chan nods, he forgot your sister dates Jeongin, she probably knows his entire group of friends.

“Do you want to drink something?” He asks, looking at you while you walk around the living room, looking at every corner but not at him.

“Water is fine”, you say, looking at some pictures he has with his friends. He always has that breathtaking smile that makes all your insides turn around.

“What about watching a movie?” He asks out of nowhere, sitting on the sofa. He looks at you, an arm resting on the back of the sofa.

“Sure”, you walk to him, sitting on the far corner. Chan has to bite back a laugh so you won't feel embarrassed, do you really think it's so easy for you to get away from him?

He turns on the movie, adjusting himself on his seat. You're really trying to pay attention to what's going on on the screen, but you just can't. Not when Chan's scent is all over the place, making you remember about your dirty dream.

He knows you're restless, he can see you fidgeting by his peripheral vision.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks, turning his head towards you, with a smirk plastered on his lips. “Maybe you can sit here again, I'm sure you are going to like it better”, he pats on his lap.

You feel your face red.

“Stop teasing”, you mumble, pouting, “that's not nice”

He chuckles. If you're not coming to him, he has no problem going to you, so Chan slides his body closer, making you stare at him with a frown.

He raises his hand to your face, cupping it and caressing your cheek.

“Tell me you don't want this, princess, I'll stop”, he says. But you want this more than anything in the world, how could you not?

You lean a bit, trying to close the gap between your mouths. Oh, how much Chan missed your soft lips, he felt almost like going through a withdrawal staying so long without kissing you.

You learn fast, your mouth opens right away after your lips touch. In a bold move, your tongue is the one to look for his first, making him groan. He puts his right hand on your thigh, squeezing it harder than he predicted, but he didn't predict the bite you would give on his lip at that exact moment.

Chan grabs your hip, pulling you up to his lap, this time with a leg on each side of him. You're looking at him in that innocent way when all he has on his mind are the dirtiest thoughts. He caresses your thigh, sliding his hand to grab your ass and pulling you closer to him.

“Will you tell me now, why you were embarrassed? You looked pretty fine when I left you home after our date”, he asks and you blush instantly, oh, you forgot about the reason you are here. You can't tell him about your dream, you'll die of embarrassment if you do.

“It was- nothing”, you lie, avoiding his eyes. Chan noticed this already, you always look anywhere but him when you are lying to him.

Maybe he'll have to make you tell the truth.

“Really?” He says, skeptical. “Then you were just being mean? Playing with my feelings after just one date?” He's teasing, he knows you'll give in eventually, it's just a question of time.

“No, I wasn't”, you argue, with a frown on your face, your lips shut tight in a pout.

“Baby”, he calls, your legs would definitely give out if he called you like that while you were standing. “I don't like liars”

Chan slides his hands up to your ass, grabbing a handful and pulling you closer. You can already feel something hard beneath you, making you shift and adjust on his lap, involuntarily seeking some friction. Your core is aching, just by staying so close to him.

“I'm not lying, that's mean”, you try changing the subject and he chuckles.

Chan comes closer, lips brushing against yours, his breathing hitting on your mouth, everything just making the wet spot on your panties grow bigger and bigger. He kisses you, a nice and soft kiss with his tongue caressing yours gently.

Chan notices that you're moving your hips slightly, trying to feel his cock. He smiles during the kiss, pulling away while putting his hands on your hips, guiding your movements to be harder.

“Hm”, you whine, feeling his hard on giving you the friction you're looking for. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer into a kiss again.

You never felt this way, like ever. You did masturbate but it's different to do it with another person. It's just so good to feel Chan's touch on your skin, his breathing, his muscular arms holding you. You feel your orgasm coming, you can't believe you're going to cum by just rubbing yourself on this man.

Chan knows you're almost there, that's when he grabs your hips steadying you, not letting you move further. He earns a whine from you, an angry look on your face.

“I will only let you keep going if you tell me why you were embarrassed and avoided me”, he says cockyly and you shake your head, trying to move again but his grip on your hips is too strong.

“I don't wanna”, you tell him.

“Then, I guess you won't be cumming today”, he shrugs. “At least, not with me”, he smirks to your face becoming even redder.

“You're such a meanie”, you whine, pouting, still trying to move again but he just won't let you.

“Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” He tilts his head.

You ponder for a moment, what should you do? It's not going to end here, if you don't tell him right now, you're sure he won't let it go.

“I- I had a dream”, you start, trying to gather some courage.

“Uhm”, he nods, “what about it?” He asks curiously, feeling strangely aroused by the way you're looking around, lips pulled into a line and the way you're speaking leads him to believe you're talking about a wet dream.

“Li- like one of those dreams”, so he was right, did you have a wet dream about him? That's interesting.

“Hm, you'll have to be more specific, princess”, he pushes, “I don't think I know what you're talking about”

“I mean”, you groan, dropping your head to his shoulder so you won't feel his eyes on you. “A sex dream… with you”, you whisper.

The grin on Chan's face after you finish saying that, is priceless. He can feel his cock twitching, he's eager to know more.

“Tell me more about it”, he presses, “I really wanna know what happened in that dream that left you so embarrassed”

“Please, Chan. Don't make me say it”, you beg, but he's not having it. He likes seeing you blushing and struggling to talk dirty, it's endearing.

“No can do”, he grabs your shoulder to pull you away so he can look at your face. “I promise I'll give a nice reward if you tell me”

You nod. If he won't drop it, then you have to try and earn something over your embarrassing situation.

“I- like- you ate me out”, you start and he smiles, he would indeed love to do that. “And I s-sucked you off, it was nice”, you stumble over your words in each sentence. Chan can only feel even more turned on, your lips are so soft, he can't even picture what it would feel like to have them wrapped around him.

“Keep going, princess. You're doing great”, he reassures you. Chan loosens the grip on your hips, guiding your movements back and forth once again.

“And you said all these dirty things to me, I can't say it out loud, please”, he smirks, pulling you even closer and pressing your covered core against his cock.

“Did I tell you how good it felt to have your pretty little mouth sucking on my cock?” He asks playfully and you nod, feeling the warmth creeping in your face again while that tingly sensation grows bigger in your lower stomach.

“Did we fuck?” He asks, feeling himself getting closer to cum too.

“Yeah”, you nod frantically with your eyes closed shut. “You fucked me on all fours and in this same position too”, you tell him.

“Oh? Did you ride me? Did you like it?”

“I did”, you struggle to make your voice come out, feeling too light headed to even speak properly.

“There's something more, right, baby?” He feels his cock throbbing, he's almost at his limit.

“Yes, you- you choked me a bit, I liked that”, and that sentence was enough to make Chan reach his orgasm, being followed by you right after.

He can't believe he really did cum in his pants, like a fucking teenager. It's your fault actually, how can someone make him cum like this and still look angelic and innocent? Like you never told him he choked you and you liked it, even though it was a dream.

Chan kisses you eagerly this time, his chest is feeling hot and he feels a weird sensation on his stomach.

“You shouldn't feel embarrassed about this kind of thing”, he tells you and you nod, because it's true, “if it makes you feel better, I'm sure I had worse thoughts about you”, he smiles, seeing you blush.

“Like what?” You ask, curiously.

“Oh, I won't tell you”, he shakes his head, “you would never look at me again if you knew all the dirty things I wanna do to you”

—

Another week went by and now you were not avoiding Chan anymore. He follows you around pretty much all day at school, stealing kisses and pulling you to empty classrooms to have make out sessions.

It's time for him to meet your parents, it's not something he ever did, he never dated anyone after all. It's a Wednesday night, he brought flowers and a bottle of wine. So five minutes before the set time, he's knocking at your door.

Your sister opens up, greeting him but you're nowhere to be found until he hears your voice from upstairs.

“Is he already here?” You sound panicked and your sister giggles.

“Yes! Hurry up”, she says and Chan hears something falling and making a weird noise. It was not loud enough to be a person so he's not worried you fell, but he finds it funny to think about you nervously stumbling around.

When you show up at the top of the stairs, he has to blink a few times to actually believe you're real. You look so beautiful, showing your nice legs in a short skirt and your shoulders in a tank top.

“Hey”, you greet him, looking at the things he has in hands and he finally regains his composure.

“Hi”, he gives you a peck on the lips, “this is for you” he hands you a bouquet of red camellias.

You stop for a second, you never received flowers. Before you can answer him, your father's head is popping out of the living room.

“Why is it taking so long for you to bring this guy inside?”, he asks grumpy, he's not too happy about you dating but there's nothing he can do about it.

Chan straightens himself, walking to your father to greet him.

“Good night, sir. I'm Bang Chan”, he clears his throat when your father doesn't say a thing, just staring at him. “I brought this for you”, he shows the wine bottle and your father takes it.

“At least you have good taste”, he nods to the wine bottle Chan stole from his father's collection.

He turns around, shrugging to you and you smile, listening to your sister's chuckles. You take his hand into yours, interlacing your fingers.

In the living room there's a woman that looks too much like you and your sister to not be your mother, she smiles kindly at you two.

She's less intimidating than your father so Chan's greetings to her are less awkward this time. As time goes by, your parents warm up to him, making jokes and even telling him about your childhood.

“The night went great”, you say while walking Chan to his car. “Thank you for coming”

“Your parents are great”, he says, leaning on the door of his car. He takes your hands in his and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Thank you for inviting me”

He looks so good tonight, his dark hair is carefully styled and he's wearing much more formal clothes than usual, making him look like a prince.

“Can I have a good night’s kiss?” He asks, slyly, seeing you eyeing him up. You nod, putting your hands on his chest and closing the gap between your mouths. Chan's hands slide from your waist to your ass, squeezing slightly, he can't get too into it since he won't be able to go further than a kiss tonight.

You pull away from him when you have to breathe, his lips are so inviting you could kiss him all night long.

“I will see you tomorrow”, he tells you.

There's something wrong with his heart, it's beating so fast he thinks he may be dying. After driving away from you, he calms himself a bit. It's not possible that you were the cause of that reaction, right? This is supposed to be fun, he only has to date you for a while and then break up, no strings attached. So why does he feel such hurt in his chest after thinking about leaving you?

After one more long and sleepless night Chan realized something: he is in love. This feeling snuck in so unexpectedly he didn't even notice he was falling in love. Chan never fell in love before, so he can only guess that this is how it feels to love someone.

He notices every little detail about you, he jokes around all the time waiting to hear you laugh about something he says. Chan likes the way you smell, the way you smile, the way you just look at him so focused while he is speaking. He is in love with your personality, your cleverness, your kindness, your beauty is just a bonus that makes him even more in love with you.

He wants to confess to you, ask you to be his girlfriend, to never leave him.

He even asked for your sister's help to make something for you, maybe a song, he can definitely make something beautiful and romantic for you. Maybe he can cook too, he wants to make you feel appreciated.

He's waiting for your class to finish, seated on the bench in front of the classroom while scrolling through his phone.

He feels someone sitting by his side and before he can look, a kiss lands onto his cheek. Chan puts his hand on his face, blushing and you laugh seeing his reaction. You two did much more than just a kiss on the cheek, why is he embarrassed about it?

“Did you miss me?” You ask him and he rolls his eyes.

“Of course I did”, he grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers. “Should we go to my place?” He asks and you nod, standing up, pulling him to get up too.

It's still a bit weird that you two are together, you never thought liking someone as much as you like Chan could actually happen to you, you could even say you're in love. The only thing that still makes you doubtful is the fact that he didn't ask you to be his girlfriend yet, you have been going out for a month and you do everything together, so why hasn't he made it official?

You still have many questions in your mind, sitting on Chan's bed while he makes popcorn and you choose the movie you're watching tonight.

He enters the room, closing the door and turning off the lights, two water bottles and a huge bowl in his hands.

“What movie did you choose?” He asks, but you can't hear it, your mind is too loud. “Y/N? Are you alright?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Are we exclusive?” You ask out of nowhere, ripping the air out of his lungs.

“Yes”, he says firmly, “do you want to be with other people?”

Chan asked that, but he's holding his breath until you answer him, hoping you're going to deny. For a moment, you don't say a thing and seeing you hesitate makes his heart ache.

“No, I-” you try speaking, trying not to sound ridiculous, “I want to be exclusive, I just don't know if you want that”

Chan takes a deep breath, putting the things he has in hands on the nightstand.

“Of course, I want to”, he takes your hand into his, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss the palm. He's feeling guilty, he's taking his time preparing a nice confession but you're feeling insecure. “I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't want things to get more serious”, he climbs on the bed, getting closer to you, “let me show you that you're the only one I want, hum? Can I?”

You suck on your teeth, knowing exactly what is about to happen but you just can't say no to him, let's be real, you don't want to say no to him. So you nod, making him smile.

Chan is eager to have you, he has been for weeks, just waiting for you to be ready to give yourself to him. He cups your face, pulling you closer and kissing you.

He helps you lay down on the bed, towering over you while landing kisses down your neck. You feel him biting on your shoulder and he brings his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up. His hands travel around your body, making you hotter.

“You're so pretty, princess”, he says, kissing your chest. You whine, he's taking too much time to get to the place you want the most.

“Channie”, you whisper, “please, touch me”, you ask him.

His smile grows bigger as he mumbles “your wish is my command”. Chan unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs, throwing it someplace in the room.

He slides his hand down to your core, your underwear is soaked. He pulls your panties down your legs and brushes a finger along your folds, collecting the wetness before inserting a finger inside, you arch your back to the feeling. It's delicious, but it hurts a bit. It's different from how it feels doing it alone.

“Is this okay?” He asks and you nod. “You're such a good girl, baby, all wet and ready for me.” He whispers, getting closer to your face again. I'm going to put another one”, he tells you. The sensation it's too much already, his fingers are too much.

“Chan”, you moan, “I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that”

“Oh? But I didn't even get to the better part”, he answers pressing his thumb on your clit, making circles.

“Fuck”, you whine.

His smirk grows while he keeps the movement of back and forth inside of you. Before he can tease you more, your legs are shaking and your tight hole is clenching around his fingers. You put your hand on your mouth, covering it so you won't make a loud sound, but he doesn't like that. He wants to hear how well he's fucking you.

“Let's not do that, okay? I want you to be loud, want to hear you scream my name” He says, pulling his fingers out of you and sliding them on his mouth. He comes closer, kissing your neck and face, helping you calm down after your orgasm.

Goosebumps rise all over your body, his kisses feel like fire on your skin, you thought you'd feel less horny after cumming, but you're still so turned on.

Chan kisses your chest, opening your bra. You feel embarrassed when he sees you completely naked.

“You're still dressed”, you point out, face red.

He gets out of the bed immediately, taking his shirt off and his pants too, crawling back to you in only his underwear. His cock is hard, outlined by the thin fabric of his boxers.

You feel the urge to touch him, maybe taste it. So you grab his length, making him groan.

“What are you doing, princess?” He asks, eyes closed from the pleasure of having your beautiful hands wrapped around him.

“I want to make you feel good”, you tell him, pushing his chest and making him fall on his back on the bed. You kiss his neck the same as he was doing to you, suddenly feeling possessive and sucking on the skin, leaving a few hickeys there.

You go down, kissing his chest and stomach, getting closer and closer to his throbbing cock. You pull his underwear down and his cock spring on your face.

“I just- you need to teach me”, you tell him. How can you look at him with such innocence in your eyes when you're about to suck him off?

“Hold the base”, he instructs, “now you can go up and down with your hand.”

 He feels your movements, making him groan. You are bolder than he gives you credit for, since you lick the head of his cock without being told to. You wrap his dick with your mouth, waiting for the next command.

“You can go up and down, princess, yes, like that” he moans, feeling his cock being embraced by your warm mouth.

Chan feels like exploding any time now, weeks of pent-up sexual tension being released. He sees you rubbing yourself on his bed while sucking on him, that just makes him crazier, he wants to make you feel good now, he can let you do the same for him another time.

“Baby”, you hear him say and you stop your movements. “I won't be able to last long with your soft mouth doing that, I need to feel you around my cock”

You nod, letting go of his cock and climbing up, stopping on top of Chan.

“I wanna be on top”, you say confidently.

“Let's do it slowly okay? I don't want to hurt you”, Chan tells you and you agree.

He grabs the base of his cock, brushing the head on your folds, trying to wet it enough to make it easier for you.

It feels like heaven when his cock finally slides inside of you, you're so tight he feels like he can cum at any moment.

Chan sees the pain in your eyes, he doesn't move, “do you want to stop?” He asks worriedly, putting his hands on your hips to stop you from moving but you shake your head.

You keep pushing it in, trying to relax. Chan kisses you, massaging your breasts to help you relax a bit.

When the painful part is gone and you're feeling all the good sensations back, you don't think you can stop, it's too addictive. You start riding on him freely, hands taking support on his chest and head thrown back, the pleasure is just too much, you'll be coming soon.

“Fuck, you look so good riding me, princess”, he says, feeling his own high almost catching him.

“Oh, Channie, I'm gonna cum”, you whine, fastening the movements of your hips, “please, oh, your cock feels so good”

For someone who couldn't talk about a wet dream a few weeks ago you sure talk dirty in real life, Chan chuckles, feeling you clenching around him and when you squeeze his cock for the last time he cums too, filling you up.

You collapse on top of him, breathing heavily. Your eyes are heavy, you're not sure if you can stay awake. Chan caresses your back and plays with your hair, making you fall fast asleep.

You wake up feeling just a bit sore. You're on cloud nine, the night was amazing. When you open your eyes, there's no one in the bed with you. You wrap yourself in the blankets trying to find and collect all your clothes scattered around the room.

The delicious smell that embraces your nose the moment you step out of the room, is enough to make you drool.

Chan is in the kitchen, dressed in nothing but sweatpants and an apron. That's right, he's shirtless. You're feeling bold today, so you get closer to him wrapping your arms around his waist in a back hug.

He lets out a laugh, putting his hand over yours and turning off the stove. He turns around, hugging you.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, kissing your forehead and you nod, snuggling in his embrace.

“Why didn't you wake me earlier? I woke up missing you”

“Ow, my baby is so needy”, he teases, making you pout. “I was making you, breakfast”

“Hm”, you look at what he was cooking.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, a bit worried, it was your first time after all.

“I'm doing great”, you smile, “just a bit sore, but it's nothing”

He nods, putting his hands on your shoulders and turning you around.

“I'm happy to hear that”, he kisses the top of your head, guiding you to take a seat on the table. “Let's eat so we can go for another round then”, he smirks.

—

“Jeongin is coming here today?” You ask your sister and she nods frantically while fixing her hair.

“He's coming to ask dad's permission to date me”, she giggles excitedly.

“Alright”, you smile seeing your sister so happy.

You're the one opening the door for Jeongin while your sister is getting ready, he's clearly nervous but he's trying to keep his smile.

“Hey!” You give space for him to enter, “Yuna is almost done”

He nods, looking around. Your sister comes down minutes later, leading Jeongin to the living room.

Your father is less hostile to him than he was to Chan, maybe it's because Jeongin is adorable.

After an hour of conversation, you go upstairs, you have a date tonight and need to get ready.

The memories from your night with Chan flood your mind making you giggle and kick your feet, they have been your most cherished thoughts lately. It's a struggle but you finally end your bath after probably an hour.

You walk back to your room, you're already late. However, you stop in front of your sister's room when you hear voices being a little bit too loud.

“You did what, Jeongin?” your sister's voice is a pitch higher than usual.

“I didn't think things would get out of hand”, Jeongin answers, are they fighting?

“In what world did you think that was a good idea?”

“I was desperate, I'm not proud of that”, he answers back.

“There's no excuse for you to ask Bangchan to date my sister”, she tries speaking lower but you still can hear them. Your whole world crumbles with that one sentence, what does she mean by that?

“I didn't do it to be mean, I know how hard it is for your sister to get to meet new people, I thought it would benefit the both of us”, he tries explaining. Your heart is beating too fast, the throbbing in your ears grows stronger and your legs are giving out.

“How am I supposed to tell her now? She is so happy” Yuna cries out. “Don't come any closer, get out of here”, you panic instantly, they can't see you there. But you're too slow, when you finally manage to move Jeongin is swinging the door open. He stops on his tracks, turning white on the spot.

“Y/N-”, he tries to speak, but you run to your room before he can say anything else.

You can't believe this is actually happening to you, you thought that someone finally liked you but everything was a lie? That's not possible, right?

You are going to go to Chan, you two have a date, and he is going to tell you that Jeongin is lying, that he was just joking.

The uber to Chan's apartment doesn't seem to show up fast enough and the ride there couldn't be slower. You're restless, fidgeting with your fingers and shaking your legs.

You pay the man, practically running out of the car and running upstairs. The person who opens the door is not Chan but Changbin, you met him a few times when you were visiting the apartment.

“Hey, y/n”, Changbin greets you. “Chan is not home, but he will be here soon, I heard you have a date”, he says, letting you in.

“I'm going to wait for him in his room”, you tell him, too disturbed to worry about proper manners.

You walk back and forth in the room, anxiously waiting for Chan's arrival. You hear his voice after twenty minutes, he's talking to his friend in the living room when Changbin tells him you're there.

You can hear the fast footsteps leading to where you are, you take a deep breath, trying not to cry.

“Hey, baby”, Chan smiles at you, dropping his bag on the floor and walking towards you with open arms. “Did something happen?” He stops, noticing your face.

You stare at him for a minute, brows knit together and eyes trying to find the least bit of sincerity in the time you two spent together.

“Did you ask me out as a favor to Jeongin?” You ask and his standing falter, how did you find out?

“L-let me explain”, he says, taking a step closer to you.

“So you did”, you feel the tears trying to escape from your eyes.

“Please, just… just hear what I have to say”, he asks, trying to hold your hand, but you pull away from him.

“I don't want to hear a thing from you”, you tell him, running your hands through your hair.

It really was all a lie. How could you be so dumb?

You walk past him, trying to get out of the room, go anywhere but there. But Chan grabs your arm, making you stop in your tracks.

“Please, don't leave”, he begs. You feel a pang in your chest, but it doesn't make a difference since you're already hurting too much.

“You have no right to ask me that”, you pull your arm out of his grasp and walk out of the apartment.

It would be too humiliating to enter the uber while bawling your eyes out, so you decide to walk. You walk for a long time before your feet start hurting and your eyes are burning from how much you cried. You can't believe you really let yourself fall pray to such a scheme, you thought you were smarter than that.

It's obvious you only fell for it because it's Chan, you were attracted to him since the first time you laid eyes on him. You try to believe that it wouldn't be that easy to trick you if it was anyone else.

After at least two hours, you finally reach your house and you're feeling utterly miserable. You greet your parents and walk upstairs, anxiously searching for your room so you can finally let yourself fall and cry as much as you can.

Your sister is seated on your bed, biting on her nails. She stands up as soon as she sees you.

“I'm really sorry”, she says, teary.

You sigh, feeling the weight on your chest even heavier.

“It's not your fault”, you tell her. You start to undress, looking for your pajamas so you can snuggle on your bed until all of this passes.

“I shouldn't have started dating before you”, she whines.

“I don't blame you, so stop doing that to yourself”, you say, even though you feel a bit of resentment because Jeongin likes her truly, he likes her because she's her. Of course no one's going to like you, you're… you.

“But”, she bites on her lower lip, not sure if she should say this, “I think Chan really likes you-”, she stops talking when you give her the meanest glare you ever threw in someone's way.

“I don't want to hear it”, you say.

“He even asked help so he could confess to you in a way you would like”, she continues.

“I'm not going to repeat myself”, you say and your sister knows that tone too well, it's better for her to stay silent for the time being. “If you're done, I would like to be alone”

Yuna nods, glancing at you all the way to the door.

You collapse on your bed, finally able to cry your eyes out without people looking at you in a weird way. This is the moment you realize how much you love Bang Chan, the pain you're feeling is greater than anything you ever felt in your whole life, you truly don't think you'll be able to survive this.

Chan is an idiot, he knows this and you are right to never look at his face again. But even though he knows you're right, he can't accept the thought of you leaving him.

He tried calling and texting you, you blocked him. He tried talking to your sister, she cursed him out and told him to leave you alone. She and Jeongin are on bad terms right now but they didn't break up yet.

He tried to find you in the university, but you didn't show up for the entire week, he just doesn't know what to do.

“You are an idiot”, Hyunjin says after listening to the whole story, “you should have told her about it while you still had time”

“I didn't know I was in love”, Chan runs his hands through his hair, “not until it was too late”

His friend sighs, he just can't see Chan like that anymore. He's just miserable, he looks like he's dying and Hyunjin doesn't doubt it could actually happen at this point.

So as a good friend, he takes this matter into his own hands and calls your sister, trying to convince her to listen to Chan and maybe forgive Jeongin too, Hyunjin is tired of him whining all day long.

“Did you really call me here for this?”, Yuna asks, ready to grab her things and go home.

“Hear me out, okay?” He says. “I know what they did was wrong but they regret it, Jeongin even told you about it”

She huffs, crossing her arms.

“He told me because I was talking about how Chan wanted to ask y/n to be his girlfriend”, she says. “He felt guilty, he would have never told me about it otherwise”

“Chan really likes y/n, he really wants to be with her”

Yuna sighs, she knows that. There was no way Chan could fake the way he looked at you.

“She's not going to believe that”, Yuna says, “y/n is heartbroken, she's not even going to her classes. She just stays in her room all day, crying’

“There's nothing better to fix her broken heart then”, Hyunjin points out, “let's help them meet, they can talk things out that way”

“She doesn't want to see him”, Yuna sighs, “but I do think this is the best solution”

“Okay, I'll text you the day and time, just bring y/n, Chan will take care of the rest”

Yuna nods, collecting her things but before she can stand up, Hyunjin's voice sounds again.

“About Jeongin-”, he starts, but she cuts him off right away.

“This whole mess started because of Jeongin”, she takes a deep breath, “after y/n and Chan resolve this matter I'll see what I'm going to do about him”

Yuna turns around, leaving Hyunjin there. At least he got Chan a chance, he can't save everyone.

Chan can't take it anymore, he has to see you. So he musters all the courage he has and goes to your house. It doesn't help that it's 2 a.m. so everyone is sleeping, except you it seems, since there's light coming from your room.

He begins throwing rocks at your window, trying to make you notice him and after a few tries he sees your face popping out.

Chan wishes he didn't come at all, your face is puffy so he knows you have been crying and the way you're looking at him, it's just awful, he feels despicable. More than he has felt all this time without you.

“What do you want?” You ask, at least you didn't ignore him.

“Can you come down for a bit?”

You sigh, you don't actually want to, but you're afraid he'll make too much noise trying to convince you to go down and wake up the neighbors or even worse, your parents.

You close the window, he knew it would be hard, that you wouldn't want to see him. Before he can turn around and walk away, Chan hears the sound of the front door opening.

You are in your pajamas, holding yourself trying to protect your body from the cold air.

You stop in your tracks, looking at him with an intense gaze, like you can read all his thoughts and know about all his mistakes.

“How have you been?” He asks and you scoff.

“Are you here to survey my mood? I have been feeling like shit, what about you?” He remembers the first time he talked to you, how he wished to see you mad, now he regrets that. He never wanted to see you mad at him.

“I'm not well either”, he says.

You sigh.

“Now that we know how each other is feeling, you can go”, you tell him.

“Can you let me explain?” He pleads.

“Did you start dating me as a favor for Jeongin?” You ask and he sighs, nodding. “That's all I need to know, I would appreciate it if you don't come looking for me anymore”, you say, turning around and going back inside. Tears start running down your face while you go back to your room, when will this pain subside?

—

You are finally back at school, after moping around all day at home for an entire week, you decided it was time to get back to your life. Staying at home just made you feel worse, you didn't have a thing to distract yourself so you ended up thinking about Chan the whole time. That only weakened your resolve to forget about him, you avoided coming to school because you knew you would give in if he tried to approach you.

Your day goes by fast enough and you just want to go home to lay on your bed. You feel your phone buzzing, it's a message from Jeongin. You were so angry with Chan that you forgot to block him.

He should be begging to meet Yuna, so why is he asking to meet you? Maybe he wants your help to fix things between them.

You don't know why you decided to meet him, maybe it's curiosity to know why he did such a thing to you or maybe you want to look at his face and curse at him.

He arrives at the cafe at the set time, looking around for you and walking towards you when his eyes lock with yours.

“Hey”, he says, sitting in front of you. You don't say anything back, not in the mood to be polite.

Jeongin sighs, he expected this much.

“I wanted to talk with you about this whole situation, believe me I didn't mean to hurt you even though it ended up happening in the end-”

“I considered you my friend”, you say making him stop talking.

“I- I'm”, he says, voice a pitch higher.

“Friends don't do what you did”, you say and he nods.

“I know it was an ill executed plan, but my intentions weren't bad, I swear”, he tells you.

“And do your intentions matter if I was the one hurt in the end?” You ask, angrier now.

“No”, he answers. “I'm truly sorry, I swear, I just caught you staring at Chan more than once. I thought this would be good for us both but I was clearly wrong”

You huff, exhausted. You start collecting your things to go home but you hear Jeongin's voice once more.

“Chan really likes you, he fell in love with you”, he says and your heart skips a beat, it shouldn't be behaving like this, not after the heartbreak you are going through.

“I don't care, he lost his chance”, you answer firmly, even though you know it's not true.

“Are you sure?” Jeongin asks, “are you sure you won't regret it? Not let him explain or not hearing him out?”

You glance at him once more, before standing up and walking out of the cafe.

Your mid terms are finally over, that means, you don't have anything to study so you're stuck with your thoughts. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, it's a message from Yuna, asking you to meet her in the arts department.

You reply, saying you'll be there in a moment. What is she even doing there? She's a business major.

The arts department is not far from yours, but it's emptier than you are used to. She asked you to meet in the first classroom of the second floor.

When you open the door, the first thing you see is Bang Chan. He looks awful, worse than you even.

You try going back, but he already saw you, so he stands up, coming closer.

“Don't leave, I'll do anything just… don't leave”

He's pale, and the eyebags he normally has are darker than usual.

“Are you sick?” You ask, worried. It's not like you can stop loving him in such a short period of time, of course you're worried.

“No”, he says, “I mean, I'm not feeling well, but I don't think I have an illness”

You nod, feeling awkward. It's been a while since you felt this way about him.

“Okay, then I'll get going”, you say trying to leave, but his voice stops you.

“I love you”, he is desperate, you can hear it in his voice. However, you're too petty.

“This was part of Jeongin’s plan too?”, you scoff, seeing his lips trembling.

He takes a deep breath, he deserves that, he knows he does.

“I really started going out with you because Jeongin asked”, he starts explaining, “but I fell in love with you, for real”

You feel your heart ache once more, he's about to cry, you can see it. But you're not sure if you can forgive him, even if what he's telling you is true.

“I don't believe you”, you say, shrugging, trying to hold your own tears.

“I will do anything to prove it to you, just say what I need to do for you to believe me”, he says, taking a step closer to you.

“I'm not sure if I'll be able to forget this or even forgive you, Chan”, you sigh, letting your heart speak and not your anger.

“I know I messed up, I don't deserve you I know that too”, he grabs your hand, “but please, I'll prove to you that I deserve a second chance, I'll earn back your trust”, he pleads.

You sigh, even after all this, it seems you still can't say no to him.

“I'm going to need some time”, you say slowly, “but I will give you a second chance, you better not ruin it”, you say.

Chan can't believe you're really going to try and forgive him, he can't ask for anything more.

“I won't disappoint you this time, I promise”, he says, kissing the palm of your hand, the same way he did before.

“Let's see about that”, you sigh, feeling your heart beating fast once again.

You may be making a stupid choice, but you'll only learn by making mistakes. You just sure hope this is not one.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

[skzms]

🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter I

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: fate delivers you han jisung on a silver platter – he's the key to finally taking down your worst enemy, his uncle, the governor Han Yujun. You're ready to force what you need out of him by any means necessary, but it quickly becomes clear that you might not have to.

word count: 8k words

author's note: oh my god!! it's here!! this series has been in the works for 4 months and has its origin in this ask my love @stayconnecteed sent me. the beginning is even still similar, though I did edit it, so I recommend reading it again, even if you're familiar. this is a big story, about love, yes, but also about trauma and chosen family and how to go on despite it all. and I hope you will love them all as much as I do. but enough waffling, here we go!!!!

warnings: mentions of physical violence, mentions of past sexual assault. if either of these things are big triggers for you, please note these will be themes in this story. heed the series warnings in the masterlist!

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

<;- epigraph - chapter II (coming march 15, 3pm CET) ->

It doesn't make sense. It's all you can think as you drag your tired eyes over the same perfectly drawn, painstakingly decorated map over and over again. One of your own, Seungmin’s own, always impeccable handiwork, one that looked similar, but just not the same lies abandoned to your left.

"Penny for your thoughts, Captain?"

You had forgotten he was still here. When you look up, his feline eyes are boring into yours, deep and dark and permeating. He was too attractive for his own good, standing there with his hips cocked to the side, his white shirt half undone, wiping the leftover grime and blood from his bruised knuckles.

“Nothing, just wondering if I’m missing something,” you murmur, your eyes falling back down to the paper in front of you. The wood of the ship creaks, the floor swaying under your feet. It was going to be a stormy night.

Minho sighs, dropping the bloodied and dirty rag onto the floor, which you send him a dirty glare for. But he leaves it there, instead rounding the big, heavy table to stand behind you.

His hands slide over your hips confidently but gently, caressing your hip bones before sliding up to wrap around your waist. Then he steps closer, presses his solid chest against your back, hooking his chin over your shoulder to look down at what you're seeing. One of his hands slips under the material of your shirt, runs over your skin in a way that makes your focus slip. But the frustration persists.

"This map seems like nonsense," you sigh out, turning the strange map over again. "Maybe that bloodbath today was for nothing."

The bloodbath that was the hijacking of a government ship from the man you’ve been trying to take down for years. You had killed them all, except for a handful of them, sending them sailing north in their shoddy lifeboats.

Minho scoffs behind you as his hand splays over your lower belly and presses you closer against his body.

"Then we still got to off some of those government pigs, that's a win in my book," he grumbles out darkly before he presses a wet kiss to the side of your neck. "Plus, we still have him."

Right. Him.

Minho's lips drag over your neck gently, sensually, soft and hot, making heat pool deep in your abdomen. His hands caress your body, and you can feel him starting to fill out against your ass. You know where this is leading, but you have work to do yet.

"Tell Chan to get him."

Minho's lips stop their journey over your skin with the barest perceptible sigh before he makes his way over to the door, sticking his head out to speak to the man standing sentry in front of your office. You may be fucking your second in command, but he still would never dare disobey captain's orders. Minho's good like that; otherwise you would've never let him get this close to you.

Chan's heavy footsteps disappear down the corridor and Minho closes the door softly, makes his way back over to you. His hands come back to your hips, squeezing the flesh softly.

"Any plans for the questioning? Should I get the kit?"

You raise an eyebrow at him.

"He's the governor's nephew, I doubt we need to resort to physical violence to get him to speak."

Minho smirks at you, visibly pleased that he finally has your attention because he leans in slightly, rubbing his nose over your cheek.

"Oh, we'll break him so quickly," he whispers with a dark smile. He's staring down at your lips as he pulls you closer, tentatively brushing his lips against yours at first, as if to see if you'll pull away, before he finally kisses you properly. Parting your lips, you swallow the little moan that falls from his lips when your tongue slides against his. But the kiss is cut short when heavy footfall and angry voices sound from the hallway. Minho pulls away reluctantly. He swipes some spit off the corner of your mouth with his thumb, but doesn't move his hand from where it’s resting against your waist, even as the door opens. It's an open secret, the fact that he's closer to you than even a second in command should be, though nobody dares acknowledge it.

Occasionally, Minho liked to stake his claim like this – and you let him. After all, Minho was also known as the man who would carve the skin from any man's bones if they so much as dared to look at you the wrong way.

The door slams open, revealing Chan and Changbin, their faces angry as they drag in a bundle of green silk and floppy brown hair. The young man is cursing and thrashing around wildly, throwing insults with a surprising venom, until his eyes fall on you and Minho. He falters slightly, eyes blinking rapidly, before they narrow again, and he goes back to kicking out.

"I suggest we tie this one to a chair, he's feral," Changbin spits out, and you just nod, gesturing for them to proceed. Minho's thumb rubs smooth circles over your hipbone. It’s a soothing action, entirely at odds with the chaos in front of you. Sometimes you wonder how he does it.

"Get your hands off me, you brutes," the young man snarls as Changbin shoves him down onto a chair. Chan kneels down to secure his leg, but the guy kicks out, the tip of his expensive brown leather boot almost catching Chan in the chin.

Within seconds, Minho disappears from your side, walks over and cracks the back of his hand across the man's round cheek, making his head snap to the side. He freezes like that before he lifts his head and stares up at Minho, eyes wide in shock, blinking up at him through a curtain of his hair. You think you see Minho hesitate, before he turns around and walks back to your side. But it seems to have taken some wind from his sails because he stops resisting so much, only haphazardly tugging at his restraints as Chan and Changbin finish tying him down.

A bright red hand mark remains on the man's cheek where Minho struck him, and you can't help but think that it's almost a shame to deface such a pretty face.

Because that's what the man is. Pretty. Soft brown, mid-length hair that falls a little past his ears, falling over his big, dark eyes constantly, which seems to irk him because he keeps tossing his head to get it out of the way. His cheeks are round, look like they would be soft to the touch, and his lips are pink and plump and small and almost constantly pursed into a pout of disapproval.

And he's dressed well: a green silk coat, that probably cost as much as the ship you just sank, draping over his wide shoulders. He wears nothing but a simple white tank underneath it, exposing honeyed skin stretching over defined collarbones. There's a little silver cross dangling from his neck.

"Fucking finally," Chan curses out as he secures the last knot.

"Thank you. You may leave," you say, your voice as calm and collected as ever. Chan and Changbin nod and plod out of the room. When the door falls closed, there's silence.

"You're the captain?" the man asks, surprise on his face. Your eyes narrow. Oh, great. Another one.

"I am. Is that a problem?" you ask, icily, and feel Minho's hand sneak around your waist. The man's eyes follow the movement, too, and then a faint blush creeps up his neck. He shakes his head.

"Now," you say as you slowly make your way around the big desk, leaning yourself against it and crossing your arms as you keep an eye on the man in front of you. Minho follows you, coming to stand a few feet next to you, hand on the handle of his knife.

"What is your name?"

"Han," the man mumbles out, "Han Jisung."

The name confirms it. You really did somehow manage to abduct Han Yujun’s nephew. Jackpot. You don’t even try to hide the triumphant grin that tugs at your lips. It seems to unsettle him.

"How’s your uncle?" you ask casually and the man, Jisung, narrows his eyes.

"How would I know? He put me on that stupid ship weeks ago, even though I told him it was a bad idea. But he never listens, does he," Jisung rambles, his eyebrows knitted together. You throw a glance at Minho, who looks back at you, perplexed. This may turn out to be your easiest job yet.

"Why was it a bad idea?" you ask gently, taking a step closer to Jisung. He’s still scowling, a dangerous glint in his eyes that’s entirely at odds with the way he’s rambling, seemingly without a filter.

"B-because I hate him. I hate him and his stupid cronies who always touch my ass and his corrupt fucking government. Like, do you have any idea how many people are starving in our city?"

He's still rambling when you slowly crouch down in front of him. The fact that you're suddenly below his eye level makes Jisung’s monologue stutter to a halt. He exhales a shaky breath."If you hate it

all so much, why are you sitting in front of us dressed in green silk?" you purr and Jisung's pink lips part slightly. It’s a bait question, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He tugs at his restraints, and the movement makes Minho take a cautious step closer to you. But there’s no real intent behind his movements.

"Well, I still had a ship to commandeer, a reputation to uphold. The men already didn't respect me. Had to lock my door every night, and they still tried to break it down …"

You can feel Minho fidget next to you.

"Did you not have a second-in-command?" Minho snarls out from beside you, and Jisung looks up at him, a cynical smile on his face. "Sent him over the gangplank on day three because he assaulted me. It's just been me ever since."

You watch carefully as Minho scoffs, affecting indifference, but you don’t miss the way his knuckles turn white on the handle of his knife.

You look at Minho and Minho looks at you, and a wordless moment later, Minho leans down into Jisung's space. Jisung sucks in a breath and straightens his back, trying to move away as Minho leans closer and closer. Minho supports his hand on the chair behind Jisung's back and watches closely as Jisung blinks up at him and then throws you a panicky glance.

"Are you gonna kill me?" he whispers, his eyes big and round and watery.

You chuckle and Minho's lips curl into a devious smile.

"We won't kill you," you say. "Instead, I'd like to make you an offer." Minho stands back up and Jisung’s body relaxes slightly, though he stays alert, shifting uncertainly when Minho starts pacing around him.

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I’m sorry to disappoint, but my uncle will probably not even bail me out. A tragedy in the family would play right into his campaign right now,” Jisung says bitterly, his lips pulled into an ironic snarl, “or he would bail me out only to drown me in the harbour.”

You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side as you watch Jisung for any sign of a lie. Though, again, there is none. Strange boy.

“Just how much do you hate your uncle?” you ask quietly, and Jisung’s snarl deepens.

“More than you can even imagine. And he hates me just as much.”

You blink at him for a beat before you decide to take the leap. You stand up. Jisung’s eyes follow you up automatically.

“I want to offer for you to join us,” you say calmly, and Jisung freezes, staring at you with wide eyes. “If you hate your uncle as much as you say you do, and you’re really that against what he’s doing, then you’re on the right ship. We’ve been working to take him down for years.”

Jisung’s face gives nothing away as he ponders your offer, and you realise you may have underestimated him slightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Minho shift his weight from one foot to the other. So he’s feeling it, too.

“And what if I don’t? Want to join you, I mean,” Jisung asks carefully, and you smile at him and shrug, but you can feel the darkness swirl in your chest. You let some of it filter into your smile, and Jisung tenses in response. Perceptive. Definitely underestimated him.

“Then you can rot in our cell until we dock at our next safe harbour in about two months. And we’ll see if we can get some money out of your uncle, what he does with you after, I don’t care,” you say casually and look up at Minho who’s smiling at you. There’s a dark glint to his eyes that you know all too well.

“And if your uncle doesn’t pay, I’m sure someone else will. Pretty boy like you should fetch an equally pretty price,” Minho adds, looking down at Jisung with an eery smile, as his eyes flit all over the younger man’s flushed face.

You know Minho is bluffing, but Jisung doesn’t, and his pokerface is slipping now, his red cheeks not helping his case as his eyes race around the room like he’s trying to weigh his options. You decide to let him stew in it for a bit.

“Chan!” you yell, relishing in the way Jisung nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound. Chan walks in and you motion towards Jisung vaguely.

“Han Jisung, take your time to think over our offer. When you’ve decided, let Chan know, and he’ll arrange for us to see each other again. Otherwise, I will see you in two months, to hand you off to the highest bidder.”

You have to rip your eyes away from the spectacle that is Jisung’s flushed, panicked face and nod at Chan.

“Take him back to his cell.”

Chan complies, untying Jisung’s feet from the chair. This time, the young man doesn’t fight it, just sits there, his brows furrowed, his eyes trained on you, and it’s like you can see the gears turning in his head. He’s still staring at you as Chan tugs him to his feet and drags him to the door.

You wait for the footsteps to fade down the hall before you turn to Minho. He’s already looking at you.

“Do you think that offer is a mistake?” you ask him, and he purses his lips, thinks for a second. Then he shakes his head.

“I think the boy’s got nowhere else to go,” he responds, “and isn’t that how most of us found our way here?”

He gives you a crooked smile, eyes trailing over your face, and you remember the first time you met Minho.

It was a stormy day, brutal winds, howling around the sails, whipping ice-cold drops of rain into your freezing face. You were ambushed, stupidly, all your fault, really, getting into strange waters during a storm like this. As so often, Jeongin and his perfect eyesight saved you, flying down the sails in the late afternoon gloom, raising the alarms as quietly and quickly as he possibly could.

Now, you and your men were fighting tooth and nail, your 25 against the other ship’s 20, and you were winning – the last part wasn’t a surprise. Everyone in these waters knew not to fuck with you. You and your crew were the undisputed masters, and only fools would ever cross you. Turns out, these were fools. But they were paying for it now.

You took a moment to escape to the quarterdeck to survey the scene. Chan and Changbin, the muscle of the ship, were on the other ship, taking down pirates easily, brutally, efficiently. Your plank was protected by Hyunjin, your first mate, but coincidentally also the best shot in the seven seas. Your other men were dotted around, fighting wherever they found the enemy, beating the other crew by a mile. Good.

You saw something glint from the corner of your eye and started, whipped your head up in alarm. Up in the fighting top of the main mast of the enemy ship sat a man about your age. He sat up there, away from the action, looking the picture of relaxation, kicking his legs, twirling a knife between his nimble fingers. His hat sat next to him on the wood, his head uncovered, shaggy black hair slicked back with the rain, revealing an angular, criminally handsome face, and intelligent, feline looking eyes.

He didn’t look away, not breaking eye contact even for a second as he watched you, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away, something about him–

You felt the air shift around you before you heard him, the heavy, lumbering brute that was charging at you. Unsurprisingly, he was not just lumbering but also predictable, pulling his fist too far back so you easily dodged his first punch, then the predictable other one. It took you about 20 seconds, two hard punches to the ears, a knife in the stomach and a kick to his gut to take care of him, tipping him over the side of the ship unceremoniously, and when you looked up, the man was still looking at you, and he was as calm as before, seemingly unaffected by the fact that you had just killed one of his mates, potentially one of his friends. Your eyebrows furrowed further, but again, you were interrupted, and this time all thought of the stranger left your head when your navigator, Seungmin’s panicked voice rung from the fray on the main deck.

“Captain!” he yelled, his voice full of panic, and your head snapped over to where he was leaning over Jeongin, who was holding his shoulder, dark blood seeping through his fingers. Ice-cold panic surged through your entire body.

“Shit,” you breathed, your cutlass clattering to the floor as you vaulted over the railing of the quarterdeck, weaving through the fighting to get to them as fast as you could. The bleeding was bad, Jeongin’s face an unhealthy shade of white, but it looked like he might survive. You needed him to survive. You helped Seungmin drag Jeongin’s shivering body into the hallway below the deck, barricading the door behind you, so nobody could follow you, and ran for your surgeon.

As soon as Jeongin was somewhat stable, you and Seungmin left him and made your way back above deck, where your crew had rounded up the last four pirates from the enemy ship on their deck. The man you had seen on the top wasn’t among them, and you felt a stab of disappointment and, if you didn’t know any better, grief.

Changbin gave you a small bow as you walked over.

“What should we do with these men, captain?”

You took a long look at them, watching calmly as one of them gathered spit in his mouth and spat at you, a thick glob of it landing on your boot. You looked at the spit, then the man, then Changbin.

“That one? In a boat, alone, no provisions,” you ordered and Chan was already moving, dragging him up and over to one of the lifeboats.

“The others,” you said slowly, watching the rest of the men cower in fear, avoiding your eyes, “You have the option to join my crew. If you choose not to, I’m feeling nice. Boat, enough provisions for a few days. Under the condition that you never, ever draw your sword against me or mine ever again.”

But none of the men took your offer, so you let your crew deposit them into a boat and send them off. They would probably be fine, the sun was set to rise on a clear day in the morning, and if they were smart, they could find their way back to land. If they weren’t, well, then you were glad they didn’t take your offer. There was no margin for error out here. Davey Jones took no prisoners.

You watched calmly as Chan and Changbin set about looting what they could from the ship, standing in the drizzling rain of the waning storm as they hauled crates upstairs, stuck around until they doused the ship in oil and set fire to it. The remaining raindrops crackled in the flames, the heat of the burning ship barely warming you, only making you more aware of the chill that sat deep in your shaking limbs and aching bones. When the ship was mostly burned, you nodded to your men, spoke a word of congratulations, and turned towards your cabin. But before you could open the heavy door that led below deck, a heavy thump of something hitting the deck sounded behind you, followed by the sound of yelling and the metallic swish of 20 swords being drawn.

You whipped around and came face to face with the man from the top, his features even more striking, his eyes even darker, more dangerous up close. An undeniable relief washed through you at the sight of him. Something told you that it would have been a shame if he had just been killed. But instead, he must’ve hid in Jeongin’s abandoned lookout post before he jumped from your main mast onto the deck. A bold move, considering the 25 men that immediately surrounded him, swords and knives drawn.

But the man didn’t seem to care. He stood there, shoulders squared, chest rising and falling with even breaths, his feline eyes boring into yours, unreadable, deep, beautiful. Then he drew his knife from his scabbard, placed it in his upward-facing palms and got on his knee, bowing his head.

Your whole crew was stunned into silence.

“What’s your name?” you asked loudly.

“Lee Minho,” the stranger answered, without lifting his head, his voice muffled by the material of his coat.

“What are you expecting from joining this crew?”

“A captain who cares for their crew, a captain who stands for something,” the man, Minho, said resolutely and without hesitation, and you blinked your eyes in surprise.

“So you know me?”

“I heard much of you, captain,” his answer came immediately, his voice still as sure as it was in the beginning, “I was hoping I would meet you one day, to see if the rumours were true.”

“What rumours have you heard then?” you said with a smirk, and some of your crew laughed, easing the tension. You made eye contact with Hyunjin over to your left, who raised an eyebrow at you, then Chan, who looked puzzled.

“That you’re ruthless, but fair. That you protect your crew like family. That you fight the good fight,” Minho said, and then nobody was chuckling any more. He was serious.

You walked over to the man until you were sure he could see the tips of your boots in his vision, waited for a second. But he didn’t raise his head, a sign of obedience that spoke of the truth of his words more than any promise ever could. Slowly, leisurely, you reached down and tapped his cheek, prompting him to raise his head. It was only when his gaze met yours again, that you suddenly realised what you’d missed these last few minutes. Something red-hot shivered down your spine. Danger. Sparks. Heat.

“What role were you hoping to get on my ship? I have to tell you, we’re pretty fully staffed.”

You weren’t, but he didn’t have to know that. He was still staring into your eyes. Something about the way he looked at you set you on fire, like your soul knew him already. It took everything in you to keep your steady eyes on him.

“I want to be your second-in-command,” he stated, and surprised murmurs broke out all around you. You raised your hand to silence them and nodded for Minho to continue.

“I saw you out there, you were all alone. A captain should always have someone to have their back.”

You cocked an eyebrow and smirked at him darkly, feigning a confidence that you could feel only the barest remnant of after this big battle, the excruciating wet and cold in your bones. But feigning it helped, distracted you from the sheer power he seemed to have over you.

“If you saw me, I think you saw I can handle myself just fine. Or do you disagree?”

Your men were chuckling all around you again. Lee Minho wasn’t. He shook his head, his eyes dipping down to your shoes briefly, in a sign of submission.

“You can defend yourself, but I think you shouldn’t have to. You’re here to lead, not to fight. Let me fight for you.”

He raised the knife he was still brandishing on his upturned palms higher. A shiver racked down your spine and weariness tugged at your eyes. You didn’t have any fight left in you. And something about him seemed … right. He was different, clearly very intelligent and independent. Despite the heat, the sparks, the danger, your intuition told you to accept him.

So you nodded.

“You can stay. But you will have to earn our trust in order to even be considered for a position that close to me. I don’t fancy getting stabbed in my sleep.”

Lee Minho nodded, still on his knee.

You turned around and nodded to your first mate, Hyunjin.“Hyune,

make sure he gets something to eat and a cabin to sleep in.”

Hyunjin nodded with a slight bow, and you turned around without another word, leaving Minho kneeling in the middle of the deck, in the drizzle, surrounded by your crew.

The man you had just made that same offer, to join your crew, was very different from the type of people you usually accepted. Lee Minho had joined your crew of outsiders almost easily, falling into easy companionship into the group of weirdos, outcasts from society, people who didn’t have anywhere else to go because they were trapped, by people, governments, creditors, pimps. They were all people who were mistreated by the very people, like Han Yujun, you knew from the very first day would be your life’s mission to take down.

Han Jisung was not without means, he was not an outcast in the traditional sense, although the way he spoke about his uncle, the quiet determination in his pretty eyes, his steadfast self-respect, it didn’t feel at all like all the other rich government assholes you had met. No, in a very real way, it all felt … achingly familiar. Like looking into a slightly skewed mirror.

But you forced yourself to be patient, to let him stew until he made his own decision. Though you asked Chan to take him to the baths, to wash his clothes for you and bring him some proper food.

Lee Minho, back when he first joined, managed to worm his way into your crew’s good graces in just a few short weeks. Oddly enough, it felt like he fit right in. And despite his closed off demeanour, his serious, feline eyes, it turned out that the real Lee Minho was a lot gentler. Also observant, steadfast, loyal, honest.

But he was also strong and merciless. The first fight you got involved in, even if you hadn’t appointed him, Minho never left your side, fighting your attackers with a ferocity and precision, a grace in his strong limbs, you had never seen in a pirate before. And he remained by your side when the fight was over, when you crossed the plank to the other ship, when you forced the enemy captain to his knees, when you interrogated and even when you dealt with him afterwards – through all of it, Minho stood two paces behind you on your right, his hand on his knife. The look on his face was determined, yet neutral, never questioning; you felt it that day for the first time, something that you would come to learn was one of the most important things about Minho: his support felt unconditional.

Before you parted ways that night, caked in blood and your hair and clothes reeking of the smoke of the burning enemy ship, his strong hands, the ones that had killed and mauled in your name, found your shoulders with a gentle, yet firm grip. He didn’t speak, just stood there looking at you, searchingly, inquisitively, until you gave him a tired smile. When he seemed satisfied that you were okay, he let his hands fall from your shoulders, bowed and turned on his heels, heading for the crew cabins downstairs. Something small and fragile in you wished he would’ve stayed. It felt dangerously nice to be so cared for.

You appointed Minho your second-in-command not much later.

You have to wait for two days before Chan knocks on the door to your cabin and finally announces that Jisung is asking to see you. You briefly weigh the risk of being alone with your captive, whether you should send Chan to find Minho up on deck – but you figure you will be able to defend yourself, no matter how feisty he was the other day. Plus, you have a feeling this one might need a bit of a gentler hand.

So you ask Chan to get him and wait, patiently, leaning against the front of your heavy desk, dark brown booted feet crossed at your ankles. The footsteps that walk up to your door this time are much calmer, one set of heavy steps you easily identify as Chan, the other much softer, more meandering in the way they find their footing.

There’s a low muttering exchange of words before Chan knocks and enters, pushing Jisung in front of him.

“Do we need to tie you to a chair again or are you going to be a good boy?” you ask Jisung, in lieu of a hello, and he narrows his eyes slightly, nose tipping skywards.

“I- I’m perfectly fine like this, thank you.”

You quirk one eyebrow at him, make a show of shrugging at Chan before you dismiss him. But Chan hesitates by the door.

“Are you sure? Should I get …” he starts, but you raise your hand to cut him off. His mouth snaps shut immediately.

“I’m sure. I would prefer it if you didn’t question my ability to question my captive. Leave us.”

Chan nods tersely, face burning as he bows.

“I’ll be right out here,” he says loudly, throwing a warning glance at Jisung before closing the door behind him.

You let your eyes finally fully fall on the young man in front of you.

He’s still in the same clothes from the day you captured, but they look like they have been washed. He looks fine, too, clean and well-rested, his soft brown hair still falling into his eyes in messy waves. Still pretty, you observe. He doesn’t say anything, just waits for you to speak with his lips pursed into his indomitable pout.

“You look like they’ve been taking care of you well, just like I asked,” you say finally and watch him blink at you warily.

“They have …” he says cautiously, and you raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing around your lips.

“What? Do you have any complaints? Surely, it’s not the food,” you ask in an effort to make him lighten up, but Jisung doesn’t respond, only jerkily shakes his head.

“Where’s your guard dog?” he suddenly asks, too sharply, too loudly.

Both of your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, annoyance starting to lick at your neck.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you say calmly, but dangerously, giving Jisung another chance to change his approach before you shove him right back into his cell, this time without such courtesy as you’ve shown him so far. Jisung falters briefly, before he bristles again.

“About your height, anger issues, looks like a greasy cat, smells like one, too,” Jisung supplies feistily.

Irritation starts to bubble deep in your gut, and you try hard to swallow it down, though the tremor in your voice is impossible to control.

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with the power dynamics in a situation like this, pretty boy,” you start icily, taking very slow, calculated steps towards Jisung, “but I’m the one who told my men to allow you to bathe, I’m the one who told them to bring you some of their food, and I’m the one who will decide whether I send you to starve in a boat by yourself tonight, sell you to a slave master in two months, or kill you myself. right. now.”

By now, you’re face to face with him, so close your breath puffs against his skin with every exhale, your eyes roving over his flushed cheeks, the little birthmark next to his mouth. When he still doesn’t say anything, you place a gentle hand on his chest before you shove him, suddenly, and with all your strength-

Jisung reels, stumbles backwards, eyes widening as he trips over his own feet, and you watch coldly as he slams into the hard floor with a loud thud and a groan. The door flies open and Chan is in the room within milliseconds, knife drawn and ready. He gives you a panicked once-over, then glares at Jisung, who’s still groaning on the floor.

“Take him back,” you say coldly and Chan automatically straightens up when he hears the ice in your voice, “and this time? Give the spoiled brat the regular treatment.”

Chan hauls Jisung to his feet without another word, his grip on his arm more than painful if Jisung’s hiss is anything to judge by. He drags Jisung to the door unceremoniously, but Jisung struggles.

“Wait!” he yells, but Chan keeps moving. Good to know your station as captain is still intact. “Wait, wait, captain, please.”

Captain. You look at Jisung expectantly as he is being dragged away.

“I’m sorry, wait, please,” he stammers out, louder, yanking at his restraints, tries to get his arm out of Chan’s grip, though it clearly hurts him. He looks at you pleadingly, and you don’t know what possesses you, but you decide to hear him out.

“Chan, stop,” you order, and Chan does so immediately. Jisung stops struggling and breathes out a sigh of relief. He winces when he tries to move his arm, his breathing laboured from his struggle.

“Captain,” he says, with emphatically, slightly bowing his head, “I … I want to join you.”

He … what?! You huff out a shocked laugh. Even Chan snorts, staring at the young man like he lost his mind.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you breathe out and Jisung grimaces, but stays silent. “You come in here with an attitude like that and then only change your mind at the prospect of shitting into a bucket for the next two months, and you expect me to believe you?!”

“Fuck,” Jisung curses, and you laugh again.

“Yeah, fuck’s about right. Should’ve thought this through.”

Jisung shakes his head. Chan starts tugging at his arm and Jisung starts talking, his words so fast you can barely make them out.

“No, no, I already … I’m … I’m not good at this, okay, scratch that, I’m bad at it. Always been bad at diplomacy. My uncle never failed to tell me, trust me. But in my defence, I have never been abducted before and,” Jisung starts babbling and both you and Chan watch him, blinking stupidly. “And yes, the prospect of shitting in a bucket is horrible, but even before that, the food wasn’t lost on me, okay. Neither was the bath. I’m just not used to being tied up, at least not in these circumstances,” a nervous laugh, “but my mother has always said my big mouth will get me in trouble one day.”

You look at Chan and Chan looks at you, and you slowly raise your hand, to wave for him to wait outside. He once again hesitates, but you glare at him and wave him off again. He relinquishes his hold on Jisung’s arm, who grimaces in relief while his mouth is still going a mile a minute, scuffing the toes of his boots into the uneven planks under his feet.

“… and besides, I wouldn’t have worn this outfit if I had known. But that’s beside the point. What I wanted to say was, I want to accept your offer.”

When he finally raises his head and looks at you, his face is no longer flushed, instead you can see the smooth planes of his chipmunk-like cheeks, watch as his eyebrows furrow with determination. He tosses his head back, shakes the hair from his eyes, meets your gaze with his own, shockingly honest one. Something in your gut is telling you to trust this man, and it feels oddly similar to the feeling you had with Chan and Jeongin, and the same feeling you had with Minho.

Jisung watches you carefully as you un-sheath your knife from where it’s hanging at your hip and take a step towards him. His eyes widen, his mouth drawing into a perfect little o as he stumbles back, almost tumbling to the floor all over again.

“I’m sorry, okay, I thought I made it clear I didn’t mean it – I- Please don’t kill me!”

He squeaks when his back hits the wall, and he cowers in on himself. How he could go from so feisty and angry to so cute and anxious is beyond you. He’s … very different from the rest of you, and you briefly wonder how much trouble that alone could land you in. But then again, you had never turned anyone away just because they were weird. Quite the opposite, it’s what had kept you all stuck together like this.

He’s still cowering, squeaking again when he feels the cold metal press against his thin shirt. You slice through the rope, and he jumps, his arms sliding from where they had been crossed against his back.

His eyes fly open when he realises he’s no longer bound, and he blinks up at you, eyes wide and cheeks puffed out in shock, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at just how ridiculous he looks. Like someone drew him.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you say quietly before you re-sheath your knife and turn around, walking back to your desk and leaning against it again, just like you had when he had first entered. For all intents and purposes, to anyone, even Chan, it would probably look like you were the picture of relaxation. But your whole body was pulled taut as soon as you turned your back on him. Just because your gut feeling tells you to trust him doesn’t mean you’re an idiot.

But the only thing Han Jisung does is walk closer to you one you’re settled against your desk, rubbing the red marks of the ropes on his wrists, the spot where Chan had grabbed him so roughly, a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

“So, you said you wanted to join us?” you say carefully and Jisung straightens up and nods, bowing slightly.

“I want to join you, Captain, if you’ll have me.”

So polite.

“Why?” you ask simply, and he blinks at you. You nod for him to go on.

“Because … because I’m bad at politics, especially the one my uncle is so good at. Like, I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m a pretty bad liar, and I’m pretty sure that’s all my uncle does. Besides, I don’t want to be good at his kind of politics, the kind that starves people and runs them out of their homes and …” he swallows thickly, and you watch him closely. Still, you couldn’t find a single indication that he was lying.

“And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” Jisung adds, suddenly overly interested in the shining leather of his boots, “my uncle might kill me or put me on another ship with men whose only interest is my ass, I have no friends because all I ever did was politics, and my parents are fucking dead.”

His voice breaks slightly at the end, before he chuckles, humourlessly, tosses his head nonchalantly.

“It’s probably stupid that I’m laying out all my cards like this, but like you just reminded me, you hold all the power here.”

He raises his head and when he looks at you now, his big brown eyes are glassy, though his lips are pursed resolutely. There it is again. You make up your mind then.

“We’re all in a similar boat here, pun intended,” you offer carefully. He chuckles slightly and sniffles once, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. He’s so … cute. The thought of anyone touching him without his consent made a familiar, ugly hatred burn deep in your gut.

“None of us had anywhere else to go when we first joined, but now we have found a sense of belonging. The others will tell you their own stories on their own time if they wish to, but rest assured, we were all lost once. Lost and angry and wronged.”

Jisung nods, his eyes glued to yours so attentively it almost made you nervous.

“And …,” you hesitate, something that feels foreign to you, “you’ll be safe here. Nobody will … try to hurt you here, in any way, or … touch you without your consent.”

“Yeah?” Jisung asks, his face still determined, but his voice a quiet, hopeful thing. God, you swear your heart would crack if you still felt like you had one.

You nod gently.

“We’re a family, family should never hurt each other.” The dark, cynical disappointment buried deep in his eyes is painfully familiar. You wonder if he can see it in your eyes, too. You clear your throat, assuming your ‘captain voice’ again.

“Let’s leave it here for today,” you announce, and it’s like Jisung shakes himself out of it, stands up straighter and nods again. Cute little bobblehead, you think. “And tomorrow, I think we should have a long conversation about how far you’re willing to go against your uncle. Because I know family can be a bit–“

You’re interrupted by the door flying open so hard that it rattles on its hinges. Minho barges in, his eyes wild, his shoulders squared, fists balled by his sides. His gaze falls to Jisung’s untied hands, panic all over his face for a brief, unguarded second, before he collects himself. His eyes race over your body, inspect you for any sign of injury or discomfort, but the relief when he comes up empty does nothing to assuage his panic. He walks to your side, his hands reaching towards you before falling helplessly at his side.

“Are you fucking insane?” he hisses out, his breath coming out in short bursts. He looks wild, and yet his eyes are so much softer than he ever allows himself in front of people. “Why is he untied? Why are you alone with him? Why didn’t you tell Chan to get me?”

Your heart soars, plummets, constricts deep in your chest, the panic in Minho’s eyes mingled with something you can’t think too much about, let alone name, making your head swim. You have to take a steadying breath. Then you do what you have to do.

“Minho,” you say coldly and Minho takes a step back as if wounded, his face slipping into his cold pokerface, though the pain that flashes through his eyes feels like it’s stabbing you in the heart. “I will interrogate who I wish, how I wish it. Chan didn’t get you because I asked him not to. Understood?”

Minho nods mechanically, eyes glued to yours as he searches and searches your gaze for any of the warmth that’s usually there. You keep it locked away and it aches. His gaze falls on Jisung and his eyes narrow.

“You,” he spits out and Jisung jumps slightly, going pale under Minho’s wrathful glare.

“Jisung is one of us now,” you say matter-of-factly, and Minho’s gaze snaps back to yours, widening in surprise.

“You just made that decision,” Minho says, as is his habit, sounding out a question like it's a statement.

“He just had a conversation with his captain and said captain made that decision, yes,” you say drily, and Minho swallows before lacing his hands behind his back and straightening his back. He’s no longer looking at you, eyes fixed vaguely on the wall behind you, but you can see his hands shaking. You want to throw up. You chance a brief glance at Jisung and to your relief, he doesn’t seem to be aware of all the implications crackling through the air, the only thing he seems to see is his new captain putting her crew in their place.

“Then the captain has made her decision,” Minho says calmly, and you nod and suffocate the tendril of tenderness and regret in your chest that makes you want to reach out and trace the delicate curve of his clenched jaw until it relaxes under your touch.

You turn back to Jisung, who’s staring up at Minho with something between awe and fear in his eyes. You clear your throat, and he drags his eyes away from Minho back to you.

“I realise I never introduced you. This is Lee Minho, my second-in-command, my right hand,” you say and Minho briefly nods at Jisung, eyes stony.

“Now,” you add and call for Chan, who walks into the room calmly, though he avoids looking at Minho. He must’ve heard. Great. “Chan will take you to the mess, where you can introduce yourself to some of the other boys. And tomorrow we talk about the other thing.”

Jisung nods at you, throws a nervous glance at Minho, before he turns around and gives Chan a tentative smile, one that Chan half reciprocates before he ushers him out the door, closing it behind him softly.

The silence that follows is deafening. Minho doesn’t budge an inch, eyes still glued to the wall opposite him, even when you turn to him and cross your arms over your chest.

“I can’t have you questioning my authority like that, Min,” you say calmly, gently. Minho eyes flutter slightly, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. “Not in front of the crew or Chan, and especially not in front of the new guy. You hear me?”

Minho nods again, his eyes blinking rapidly now.

“Talk to me, please? Is it because I didn’t let you know that I was talking to him? Is it because I made the decision without you?”

It’s like Minho breaks, disbelief swimming in his beautiful eyes when he stares at you.

“That’s what you think this is about?”

No.

“Yes?” you offer, withering under his gaze. But you stay strong, though where you pull the strength from is beyond you.

“You can make any decision you want. You’re the captain. I trust you,” he says, and you can tell he means it, but you can also see much more than you’re able to handle.

“Then what was that?” you ask even though you know the answer.

“Y/N …” Minho breathes out your name like a promise and a sob threatens to scratch itself out of your throat, “I … You … You have to …”

You bitterly realise just how good you’ve become at your poker face when he stops himself, running his hands through his hair with a choked sigh.

“If you don’t know, then …” he starts again before he shakes his head hard and makes for the door. “It was nothing, captain, nothing at all.” He leaves without looking back, letting the door fall shut behind him. When the silence envelops you, you finally allow yourself to crumble.

<;- epigraph - chapter II (coming march 15, 3pm CET) ->

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[hyuk4ngel-deactivated20240125]

— the seven stages of you and i (c.sb)

summary. when you first met soobin, you knew he was going to play a lead role in your life. you were going to make sure of it. you just didn't know what to expect.

or: the story of a boy, a girl, and the turbulence that fills the space between them.

wc. 14,446 words

genre. angst

tags. soobin x fem!reader, childhood friends to lovers to ???, best friends to lovers, minors DNI minor smut (implied virgin!soobin x virgin!reader, first time, protected sex) featuring beomgyu, taehyun, and kai from txt, yuna from itzy, and arin from oh my girl

a/n. classic quintessential fay angst!! we're so back!!! i’ve been writing this story for two months. it’s the longest thing i’ve written and i’m super proud of it. please let me know if i missed any warnings or made any typos. i really hope you all enjoy it. @cultofdionysusnet

playlist more of my writing

you can vividly remember the first time you ever saw soobin.

it was the summer before third grade started.

it had been an unbearably hot summer and with the school year looming just a month away, you were dreading going back to school and trying so hard to not think about having to meet your new teacher and make new friends.

so to take you mind off the soul crushing pressures of elementary school, you begged your mom to let you go to the park. she refused, claiming she had to work, but the two of you made a compromise and you settled for riding your bike around the cul-de-sac where she could still see you from the dining room table.

you had been riding for thirty minutes, quickly growing tired of the rays of the sun beating down on your skin. you were about to call it a day, but that’s when you saw it.

the gray honda civic driving past you, the sun reflecting on the hood of the car. the woman in the front seat, slowly waking up from her slumber. her husband tapping her shoulder excitedly, looking at his new home in awe.

and him.

the young boy staring out the window with wide eyes as the car pulled into the driveway of the house beside yours.

you darted inside to tell your mom you had new neighbors.

at dinner time, she took you over with some food. “hello, we live right next door.” she introduced herself to the woman that opened the door. “i just thought you guys could use a warm meal with moving and everything.” behind her legs, you could see the little boy peeking at you.

she invited you in and you remember the way their house looked so devoid of life. what was supposed to be the living room was a sea of boxes. your mother sat beside his mother on the old brown leather couch that sat in the back of the room.

you caught soobin’s gaze, watching you taking in the sight of his new home. he looked away when he noticed you looking at him. you moved to sit beside him on the floor.

“i saw you,” he said when he registered your presence beside him.

“what?” you were slightly taken aback.

“outside.” he clarified. “you were on your bike.”

“oh,” you muttered. “my name is y/n.” you reached out to shake his hand. he looked at you, a bit puzzled, yet mirrored the gesture, his grip gentle and feeble.

“i’m soobin.”

“how old are you?”

“i’m almost 10.” he answered, glancing down at his hands.

“why did you move here?”

“my dad got a job.”

“do you want to ride bikes tomorrow?”

“i don’t know how.” soobin looked at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, his shy demeanor even more pronounced.

“i can teach you.” you offered.

and the next morning, at 11 sharp, soobin showed up in front of your house ready to learn. after that afternoon, you decided that you liked him and he was going to be your best friend. he didn’t talk much but he always listened to you, with a goofy smile plastered on his face. when he did talk, he answered all your questions thoughtfully. and most importantly, even after he fell down multiple times, he still showed up at your house the next day, waiting to learn.

by the time you got to middle school, everyone knew that you were two peas in a pod. from the day you met, everywhere you went, soobin wasn’t far behind, following you like a lost puppy. you always carpooled together; you always ate lunch together; you were even in all the same clubs.

and so when eighth grade began, you two were separated for the first time in five years and it was so hard for you to adjust to not seeing him every second of every day.

the first morning of the school year, you stopped yourself from asking your mom where soobin was when he wasn’t at your car waiting for you. you wandered through the halls to your regular lunch table a little surprised and mostly disappointed when you didn’t see him sitting with an extra cookie he always got from the lunch lady. after school, you sat awkwardly, alone, on the bench outside of the school building waiting for your mom to pick you up.

when you got home, you didn’t even bother going up to your room. you threw your backpack on the couch and made a beeline for his house. you flopped onto his bed with a sigh as soon as you got to his room, the softness of the mattress cradling you. he didn’t look up from where he sat at his desk doing his homework, but he acknowledged your arrival with a quiet hello. 

“how was your first day of high school?” you asked, emphasizing the last part of your question.

“it was okay.” he scribbled something in his book.

“just okay?” you pressed.

“it was kind of weird.” he turned his chair around and finally looked up at you.

“did you miss me?”

“yeah, a little,” he confessed. a soft warmth bloomed in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

“i think i might try out for the football team,” he blurted out of nowhere. “or maybe basketball? i don’t know yet.” you bursted out in laughter.

“did i say something funny?”

“you have no athletic bone in your body.” you countered, still chuckling.

“we don’t know that.”

“oh, we do,”

he moved to join you on the bed, books in hand, and you watched him with a fondness that didn’t need words as he made himself comfortable.

“i always tell you not to wear your outside clothes on my bed.” he jokingly admonished.

“do you like your school?”

“i mean, it’s only my first day. but it was okay.”

you paused, both to process what he just said and to figure out how to word what you really wanted to say. “i don’t want you to forget about me or stop hanging out with me or whatever.”

“you’re literally going to the same school next year.” he teased you.

“i know, but still.”

“you’re a hard person to forget about, y/n.”

“you’re just saying that,” you felt the blood rush up to your cheeks, and subsequently rushed to hide your face in his sheets.

“no, i mean, you literally wouldn’t let me forget about you.” he laughed and in response, you threw a pillow at him.

but in the back of your mind, you knew he was right – you couldn’t let him forget about you. and as the days rolled on, you made it a point to go over to his house for hours after school. at least for the first month and a half of the smeester. that was until the demands of school grew and he started having to stay after school for clubs and going over to people’s houses for projects. by the time the holidays rolled around, your moments together were reduced to the seconds you saw him in the mornings when you were both leaving for school. and for the most part, it stayed like that going into the summer.

the summer after eighth grade, you saw soobin a total of three times.

the first time you saw him was on memorial day. your dad, not exactly the biggest fan of your plan to stay home the entire summer, pushed you out of the house to go to his family’s barbecue. you went to soobin’s house with a tray of cookies (because you never go to someone’s house empty handed, your mom told you beforehand). he greeted you with a casual wave before disappearing upstairs to play video games with his friends. you lingered around his house for ten minutes, until you felt completely uncomfortable by yourself, when you slipped away back to your room, cocooning yourself in your bed, tears tracing paths down your cheeks, soaking into your sheets beneath you.

the second time was sometime right after the fourth of july. his dad was taking him on a fishing trip and you just so happened to be getting the mail as they were leaving. you tried to pretend not to see him, eyes fixed on the ground, your heart pounding. and you thought it worked. but later that day, a message lit up your phone screen – soobin confessing that he missed you. you deliberated for two hours before typing out a guarded response: “me too.” two weeks stretched out like an eternity before his next message came.

the third time was actually the day before your first day of high school when he came over to your house under orders from his mother. he stood at your bedroom door, a mixture of apprehension and determination etched across his face.

when you opened the door, all the feelings of abandonment came flooding through your mind – every time you cried thinking about how he was ignoring you, every time your parents had to force you to get out of the house and breathe in fresh air, everything came at once.

“what are you doing here?” you spat at him. your words were a shield, sharp and defensive.

“my mom said i should come check on you.” he responded, his hand absently massaging the back of his neck. you yielded, allowing him to enter the room, but he hesitated, lingering by the door, too afraid to sit down.

“are you nervous about high school?” he ventured.

you met his gaze, scanning his eyes for sincerity. “not really.”

“i’m sorry,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “i’ve been pretty shitty to you this year.”

“yeah, you have been pretty shitty.”

“i meant it when i said i missed you.”

“i know.”

“are we good?”

he didn’t really apologize, you understood that. but sometimes, especially in that moment, it seems easier to forgive him than confront him about how horrible he made you feel. and so you concede, not realizing that you’re setting the precedent for you guys to saunter in and out of each other's lives as you please. “yeah, we are.”

you invite him to sit on the bed with you and he joins you.

“so, what is high school really like?” you ask, trying to clear the air of tension that lingered.

“well, it’s nothing like high school musical,” he began.

and although you were apprehensive about forgiving him so quickly, you couldn’t deny how good this felt. sitting here with him, not thinking about the future or the past. just being here talking about nothing and everything at the same time. if you could, you would have captured this moment and put it in a snow globe to look at everyday.

the next morning, you stood at the threshold of the school building, soobin towering beside you. as you walked into the school together, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in the atmosphere. soobin seemed to be a lot more popular than he led on and he navigated the halls with a confidence that belied his usually reserved nature. students and teachers alike greeted him as you walked through the halls.

“okay, mr. superstar,” you teased.

“well, i am class president.” he tells you shyly.

“why didn’t i know this?” you wondered aloud. he offered you a nonchalant shrug but continued guiding you through the labyrinth of corridors that made up the school. 

as you approached your classroom, the reality of where you were dawned on you. you turned to soobin, seeking reassurance from him. “i’ll see you at lunch?”

“yeah,” he affirmed.

with a final smile, you slipped into the classroom, taking a seat beside a girl who was looking at you with wide eyes.

“you know soobin?” she blurted out when you sat down.

your brows furrowed in confusion. “yeah?” you answered, taken aback.

“how?”

“uh, he’s my friend.” you explained, scanning the room for an empty seat.

a spark of hope lit up her eyes. “can you introduce me to him?”

you hesitated, your discomfort growing with each passing second. “i don’t even know you.”

a wave of awkwardness washed over the both of you. without waiting for a response, you quickly gathered your things, seeking refuge in a different seat on the other side of the classroom. what the hell was that? you thought to yourself as the other students filed into the class.

save for that strange moment in the first period, the rest of your classes went by completely unremarkable until lunch time rolled around. you arrived at the cafeteria fifteen minutes after lunch started. you were trying to navigate the way between hundreds of bodies in the hallway and found yourself in a completely different wing of the school. why does a high school have to be this big? you asked yourself when you collided with a girl.

“are you okay?” you asked her.

“yeah, i’m just trying to find the cafeteria.” her response came with a note of relief.

“me too. i’m y/n.”

“i’m yuna and this school is way too big.” she remarked, a trace of exasperation lacing her words.

“yeah, i got a tour this morning and i’m still confused.”

should we ask someone for help?” yuna suggested.

“yeah,” together you venture into a nearby classroom to ask a teacher for help.

meanwhile, in the cafeteria, soobin took advantage of your little detour to offer a preemptive warning to his friends about how to act around the freshman girl that was going to be eating lunch with them.

“i’m serious, you guys, don’t be weird.”

“when have we ever been weird?” beomgyu asked, but his playful tone is punctuated by a stray fry launched by kai, which found its target on taehyun’s head.

soobin gave beomgyu a knowing look.

“we won’t be weird, okay?” his friend reassured him. “what’s with the girl anyways?”

“she’s my best friend and i don’t want you guys to scare her.”

you finally make it to the cafeteria with yuna by your side. soobin introduced you to his friends, and you briefly remember them from memorial day. as the lunch period dragged on, you sat quietly, observing soobin in his element. you never felt this way before, but watching the way he interacted with his friends made him a little more attractive in your eyes. there was a magnetism in his confidence and you couldn’t help but entertain thoughts that had never crossed your mind before.

and from them, you found yourself yearning for those stolen glances, fingers brushing in passing and shared laughter that lingered just a little longer than usual.

being best friends with someone older than you had its perks, especially when that person was as smart as soobin. you were pretty good at biology freshman year, and chemistry was okay too. but no one warned you that knowing the powerhouse of the cell or all the symbols of the periodic table was enough to equip you for an honors physics class.

even though you stayed up for three nights in a row, you didn’t expect to do so bad on the unit test. it was embarrassingly bad. like bringing the class average down bad. like being handed back a folded test bad. you opened your test packet hesitantly, only to quickly close it again upon seeing the harsh, red “36/100” glaring back at you. the room seemed to close in around you, the disappointment heavy in the air.

after class, you went to meet your teacher. “are you sure there’s no way i could get some extra credit or something?” you asked, your voice carrying a mix of desperation and determination.

“y/n,” he said, his tone firm. “if i give you extra credit, i have to give everyone extra credit,” he advised. “if you want a better grade, i suggest you study harder.”

“fucking asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you left the classroom. the slam of the door echoed down the empty hallway.

yuna, who was waiting for you outside your class, scowled when she saw your demeanor. “what’s wrong?”

“he’s such an asshole.”

“what did he do this time?”

you handed her your test and slung your backpack onto your shoulder in frustration. her face scrunched up when she saw the red ink that scattered the page. she reached out to gently caress your hair in a soothing gesture. “oh, honey…”

“and he wouldn’t let me do extra credit.”

“didn’t your boyfriend take this class last year?” yuna asked, trying to find a solution.

“boyfriend?” you replied. you knew where she was going with this, but you wanted to see if she would actually say it. but you knew she was never one to back down. “soobin?” she asks.

“not my boyfriend.” you remind her in a singsong voice, causing her to roll her eyes.

“well, i’m pretty sure he took this class last year. just ask him to tutor you.”

you hum, pulling out your phone to text him.

to soob:

i hate to ask you this but i really need your help

from soob:

you know i’m always gonna help you what do you need

to soob:

one quiz away from failing physics can my bestest friend in the whole entire world help me

from soob:

you know you don’t need to butter me up but i’ll take it

to soob:

you know i love you so much right? can you come over tonight?

that evening, you meticulously laid out your physics notes and textbook on the kitchen island. you were stressing a lot, and in an attempt to calm your racing thoughts, you decided to bake. the sounds of the mixer and the clinking of the measuring cups was always something that soothed your anxious thoughts.

as the timer chimed, you pulled the tray of cookies out from the oven. just as you set them on the cooling rack, the doorbell rang, sending a jolt of nervous anticipation back through you.

you open the door to soobin.

“thank you again for doing this,” you said as you welcomed him inside. you guided him to the island. “i made cookies, so please feel free to take some.”

his eyes brightened with surprise. “you made cookies? i didn’t know you could bake.”

“i started in middle school,” you confessed, a hint of vulnerability crept into your voice. “my therapist said it was a good way to process my emotions. i don’t know.”

“you’re in therapy?”

“yeah, since middle school.”

“oh.”

the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. you both settle into your seats. the tutoring session began, but despite your best efforts, you found it hard to focus. the equations and diagrams that soobin so easily drew out seemed to blur together and your mind drifted elsewhere. the only thing you could concentrate on was soobin’s long, veiny hands as they gracefully navigated the pages of the physics textbook in front of you.

“should we take a break?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

you blinked, realizing that you had been staring at the same problem for a little too long. “i’m sorry. long day.”

“no, don’t apologize,” soobin reassured you. “it’s getting late anyways. we can always try again tomorrow.”

the next few tutoring sessions followed a similar pattern, but today you managed to gather yourself and focus, determined not to get lost in the small smile that graced soobin’s face whenever you correctly answered a question.

“you know what you’re doing?”

“what?”

“you know what you’re doing. just don’t overthink it.” he was referring to the problem set in front of you.

“oh, yeah,” you replied, your hand moving swiftly across the paper. in your mind, even if you got the question wrong, he would patiently explain it to you. this way, you wouldn’t be trapped in your head, thinking about how close he was to you, close enough to pick up hints of his shampoo, or how pretty his eyes looked with the kitchen lights dancing in them, or how soft his hands felt as they brushed against yours when he took the paper from you.

to your surprise, you managed to avoid any embarrassment for the rest of the session.

“when’s your next test?”

“in two weeks, i think,”

“we can meet a couple of nights a week until then,” he suggested.

as time passed, you found it easier to concentrate, the initial nervousness giving away to a growing confidence. you had to admit. soobin was a good tutor and with each passing day, you felt the weight of the test lessen, until the day of the test.

from soob:

test day! how are you feeling?

to soob:

i think i’m going to throw up

from soob:

please don’t you’re going to do great you know i’m always rooting for you!!

you walked into the classroom with your chin held high, determined to “fake it till you make it” your way into a passing grade, but you spent the rest of the week after that a bundle of restlessness and anticipation.

finally, the day you dreaded the most arrived. the door swung open, and your teacher strode in, a stack of papers clutched in his hand. you held your breath, fingers crossed under the desk as he made his way down the rows, inching closer and closer.

“good job,” he smiled at you when he handed you your test.

after class, you practically sprinted to soobin’s locker, eager to share the news.

“check me out! i’m a nerd like you,” you exclaimed, thrusting the test paper towards him.

“har har,” he let out an amused snort, rolling his eyes. “i knew you could do it. maybe next time we can shoot for a 100?”

“i think we should focus on maintaining this 80%,” you chuckled. “i think this calls for a celebration. can you come over tonight?”

that evening, you and soobin set out to tackle the challenge of baking brownies. he was good at a lot of things but admittedly was very useless in the kitchen.

“it’s fine.” you reassured him, “i can teach you.”

“you’re always teaching me things,” he noted, his ears burning as he looked down at the mixing bowl.

“what are you talking about? i’m literally now passing physics because of you.

“not school things,” he explains. “i mean like practical life things. you taught me how to ride a bike; you taught me how to make friends––”

“i taught you how to make friends?”

“yes, you did. being friends with you just made me outgoing, i guess.”

“hmm.”

“anyways, you’re teaching me how to bake, although i think this might be a lost cause,” he quipped, eyeing the ingredients skeptically.

“just crack those eggs,” you instructed.

while you dealt with other things, soobin stood expertly mixing the batter. “can i taste it?” you asked, holding up a spoon.

“wait, this is so good,” you marveled at your own recipe.

soobin’s gaze met yours, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. he edged closer to you. “you have something…” he said softly, swiping your chin with his thumb, then tasting the chocolate batter from his finger.

“oh, uh, th-thanks,” you stammered, turning toward the sink to hide the elated grin that threatened to give you away. inside, you were almost bursting at the seams.

“so, cookies are for nerves, brownies are for celebration?” soobin asked, as you two settled onto the plush couch.

“and cakes are for when i’m sad,” you quipped, fingers deftly flicking the remote to life. “what do you want to watch?”

“i don’t care. whatever you want.”

wrapped in the cocoon of the soft blanket, you both sank into the cushions, the movie’s glow flickering across your faces.

as the credits rolled on the screen, you and soobin sat up, still close, but the proximity was charged with an unspoken confession.

“did you like the movie?” you asked, attempting to dispel the atmosphere.

“we’ve seen it like a million times,”

“yeah, but still.” you press and he just shrugs.

after a pregnant pause, he finally broke the stillness. “i feel like i need to tell you something.”

your heart quickened, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within. “yeah?”

“i, uh,” his voice wavered for a moment. “i like you,” he admitted, his words stumbling out in a rush, eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the middle distance.

“what?”

“i like you,” he repeated, softer and steadier this time. soobin’s heart raced, his pulse thrumming in his ears as he awaited your response. you, on the other hand, were filled with surprise and something else, you couldn’t even decipher. your breath caught. it was like the air had grown heavier, charged with unspoken desires and uncharted territory.

“oh.” you managed to let out. “that’s… oh.”

his gaze flickered back to his hands, usually so steady, that laid, slightly trembling in his lap. “it’s fine if you don’t feel the same. i’ve just been dealing with these feelings for a while and i just needed to tell you.”

“soobin, it’s—”

“you don’t have to say anything; i get it.” he interjected, “just forget about this. i value our friendship a lot more, so i don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“soobin!” you exclaimed your voice firm and determined. “i like you too, but we… we can’t do this.”

“why not?”

“well, for starters, you’re graduating in the spring.”

“and i’m probably going to school, like what? two hours away?”

“i don’t want you to feel like you’re missing out on your college experience by being with me or whatever.”

“y/n, you’re literally my best friend.”

“precisely why we shouldn’t risk it,” you insisted. “i cherish our friendship, and i don't want to jeopardize it.”

“i promise you there’s absolutely nothing that could ever make us not be friends.”

“i don’t… i don’t know.”

“sleep on it, okay?” he conceded, rising from the couch. “i should probably go home.”

you escorted him to the door, the gravity of the moment still lingering. “see you tomorrow?” he asked, framed in the doorway. the threshold seemed both a physical and emotional boundary, like a bridge between the familiar present and the uncertain future of your relationship.

“yeah.”

he leaned forward, a gentle breath of warmth preceding the tender press of his lips against your cheek. “goodnight, y/n,” he murmured before fading into the night. 

your fingers lightly brushed your cheek, still tingling from where his lips had been. the sensation was still tingling, like a spark of electricity had been left behind. climbing the stairs you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. you felt like you were floating as you made your way to your room, crashing on your bed, kicking your feet thinking about the fact that he likes you.

the next day, you decided to skip lunch in the cafeteria. “please can you tell me why we’re eating lunch in the library today?” yuna asks, tossing her backpack onto a beanbag in the corner of the library where you settled.

“something happened last night.”

“did you and soobin finally kiss?” she asked, a sly grin creeping onto her face. you look up at her, trying to suppress your smile.

“well, not really.”

“not really? what happened?”

“he told me he liked me.”

yuna let out an excited squeal, earning disapproving glances from the other students.

“and he kissed my cheek.”

“shut up!” she was practically bouncing in her seat, unable to maintain her excitement.

“yeah, you should shut up.” some guy at a nearby table griped, annoyed by the disruption.

she rolled her eyes, returning her attention to you. “anyways, i’m so happy for you.”

“don’t get your hopes up.”

“oh, no.”

“yuna, he’s graduating soon.”

“okay? i don’t see what the problem is. you’ve had a crush on him forever and he was the one who said it first.”

“i just don’t want to do a long distance thing.”

“he lives right beside you.”

“and he’s moving away in seven months.”

“he’s moving to a different town, not a different country.”

“hey, you guys are making a lot of noise,” the library assistant reprimanded, approaching your table. “and you know you’re not allowed to eat in here.” she referred to yuna’s food.

“sorry,” you apologized, your voice meek.

she walked away, leaving you both to your conversation.

“yeah, ‘cause my carrots are going to crumb all over the books,” yuna quipped, but she complied, tucking away her lunch.

“i just don’t want to lose my best friend.”

with a multitude of thoughts swirling around your head, you knew you needed to talk to soobin. after school, you made your way to his house. as you walked to his bedroom, each step was weighed down by the uncertainty and anticipation that filled your heart.

the soft knock on soobin’s door pulled him from his thoughts. he swung the door open to find you standing there.

“hey,” you greeted, your voice above a whisper.

“hey,” he stepped back, allowing you in. his heart raced, a mix of hope and fear coursing through him.

you walked into his room taking in the decor. it hadn’t changed much from middle school. his walls were adorned with a mix of posters. a bookshelf stood against one of the walls, filled with a well-organized collection of novels, textbooks, and mementos. his desk, which sat by the window, was decorated with photos of the two of you from elementary school that you surprisingly hadn’t seen before. looking at them gave you the motivation to have the say everything that you wanted to say.

he gestured to his bed. you settled into your usual spots, the silence stretching, punctuated only by the soft sounds of the clock. soobin couldn’t help but steal glances at you, the room charged with tension.

“so, we should talk about last night.” you took a deep breath. he turned to face you, his gaze steady, waiting for your words. “i’ve been thinking a lot,” you continued. “and i do want to give this, us, a try.”

a smile broke across his face and you couldn’t help but melt. “you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

you mirrored his smile, a sense of contentment settling in your chest. “but,” you added, your expression turning more serious, “you are graduating soon, so we need to be realistic.”

he nodded. “we can face it together, one step at a time.”

you reach out, your fingers finding his. “okay,”

“can i kiss you now?”

“yes,” you giggled.

he cupped your face, slowly closing the space between you. meanwhile, your hands snaked their way to the back of his neck, pulling him down so his soft lips met yours. the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours.

the first touch was as light as a feather, but as a surge of emotion overcame the initial hesitation, the kiss deepened. time seemed to stand still and the moment stretched into infinity until you heard a cough coming from the door.

you quickly pull away from the kiss, your heart racing. soobin’s eyes held affection, his fingers still lightly grazing your cheek. you looked to the door to see his mom with her hands on her hips, a playful smirk on her face. “i was just checking to see if you were going to stay for dinner, y/n.” she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

looking down at your hands, that sat in soobin’s hands, you responded quietly. “yeah, i’ll just text my parents.”

“okay,” she left the room with a knowing smile

“that was so,” you squealed in embarrassment, burying your face in soobin’s shoulder. his warmth enveloped you like a comforting embrace as his fingers gently traced patterns on your back.

“at least she likes you,” he joked, making you groan. “we should go downstairs,” he suggests, pulling away reluctantly.

as you proceed to stand up, he playfully tugged you back down, his eyes never leaving yours. “wait.” his voice held a soft urgency, his gaze locked onto your lips. “just one more.” he leaned in, the touch of his lips against yours sending a surge of warmth through your veins. his smile melted into the kiss.

“okay, we can go now.”

you followed him downstairs and avoided his mom’s knowing glances throughout dinner.

for the next few months, you spent almost every day with soobin. the two of you were once again attached at the hip, savoring every moment leading up to his impending graduation.

and the dreaded day of the ceremony arrived. soobin, loose tie in hand, entered his parents’ room with a furrowed brow. “mom, where’s dad?”

“he had to stop by the office, but he’ll meet us there,” she responded, finishing up her makeup. as she finished she turned to her son, her eyes sparkling. “oh my god,” she cooed. “you look so handsome.” she pulled him into a hug.

“god, mom, relax.” soobin chuckled, gently extricating himself from her affectionate grip. he smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt.

“is it a crime for a mother to be proud of her son for graduating?”

“no, but i need help with the tie.” he gave it to her.

she took the tie, fingers deftly weaving it into place around her neck. “is y/n coming with us?”

“no, she’s going with her parents.”

“you know, i’m really glad you have her in your life.” there was a tenderness in her voice, her eyes fixed on her son as she put the tie around his neck, adjusting his collar.

“that’s random.”

“it’s not random. i’m just saying you’re graduating and going to college soon, and i just don’t want you to take her for granted.”

“i won’t. i promise.”

“ok,” she declared, a smile gracing her lips, indicating that she had finished. “good to go, we’re leaving in ten minutes so go finish getting ready.”

you arrive at your school’s auditorium thirty minutes before the ceremony began. you quickly settle beside soobin’s mother.

“i’m so glad you guys could make it,” she greeted warmly.

you scanned the hall, searching for your boyfriend in the sea of cap and gowns. the familiar hum of your phone in your lap brought your attention back to the present. it was a text from soobin, asking you to meet him outside the auditorium.

“is my dad there?” soobin’s voice held a note of urgency when he saw you.

“not yet, but your mom said he’s on his way. are you okay?” your hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder, trying to steady his nerves.

“i’m just nervous about the speech and the fact that he isn’t here yet.”

“well, he’s going to be here. who would miss their only child’s graduation?” you offered a reassuring smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “and the speech is going to go perfectly, okay?”

“you don’t know that.”

“yes, i do! you’ve been practicing all week. you’re going to do great.”

“what if i mess up?”

“if you mess up, just find me in the crowd, okay? i’ll be with both your parents and my parents, and we’ll all be cheering on you.”

“alright, thank you.” he took a deep, steadying breath.

you reached up, planting a tender kiss on his lips. “you’re going to do great,” you affirmed, and with that, he headed through the student entrance into the auditorium.

the ceremony flowed seamlessly. pride swelled in you as you watched soobin take the stage. his dad slid into your row just as he went on stage, and you offered him a thumbs-up, met in kind.

you returned to soobin’s house with your parents for the celebration. the living room was adorned with congratulatory banners and balloons, the most bright and colorful you’d ever seen his house.

for most of the party, you didn’t see much of him as he was passed around by friends and relatives that wanted to congratulate him. but eventually, at some point in the night he finds you and the two of you escape from the party to embrace the quiet of his room. the room was dimly lit, and mostly quiet, save for the chatter and the music softly playing from outside the door.

“god, i really needed this,” he confessed, stretching out on his bed. you nestled beside him, resting your head on his chest. he enveloped you in arms, fingers entwined with yours. “talking to people is exhausting,” he sighed.

“you were amazing today,” you reassured him.

“because i had you there with me.”

“and your dad came.”

“yeah, half an hour late. i can’t believe he went to work today.”

“at least he was there.”

“i don’t even care anymore. i’m just happy you were there and that we’re here together right now. i can’t wait for this summer.”

“i need to tell you something.”

“yeah,” he turned to you, fingers gently playing with yours.

“you know how i’m vice president of culinary club?” he hummed in acknowledgement.

“well, our faculty advisor told me about this culinary school that she thinks i should apply to for college.” you explained. “anyways she thinks i need to get a job or internship or something this summer to make my application stronger.”

“yeah,” his voice took on a more tentative tone.

“well, she connected me with one of her friends who owns a restaurant downtown and he said that i could, like, shadow him for the summer.”

“that’s great but–”

“i know. i don’t think it’s going to stop us from spending time together. we’ll still be able to do everything that we planned on doing. it’s just not going to be everyday.”

“baby, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“i just feel bad.” your voice softened.

“why?”

“we had so many plans.” you pouted

“and we’ll still be able to do them,” he assured you. “i think it might be good practice for us when i go to school in the fall.”

“yeah, you’re right.”

you leaned up to kiss him, and he kissed you back.

the two of you lingered on his bed, the world beyond the room fading into insignificance. then, a gentle rap on the door pulled you out of your trivial conversations. 

“soobin,” his dad entered the room, voice cutting through the hush.. “some of your guests are leaving. go downstairs to say goodbye.”

soobin shot up from the bed. “yeah, i’ll head down now.”

“y/n can i talk to you?” his dad asked. soobin looked back at you before leaving the room.

“yeah, what’s wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong. i just wanted to talk to you about soobin.”

“what about soobin?”

“why don’t you sit down,” he suggested. you complied, perching on your boyfriend's bed. “i wanted to talk about soobin because well he’s going to college in the fall and i just want to make sure that he’s not wasting his experience or losing his focus.”

you weren’t sure how to respond. “i’m don’t know–”

“see y/n, you’re a great girl and you’ve been there for soobin for a long time, but you also distract him.”

“what?”

“i work really hard to make sure that my family can live in this neighborhood and so that my only son can go to a good school. i don’t want to see him waste his life over his high school girlfriend.”

your chest tightened, emotions surging. you wanted to speak up, to yell at him and tell him off for inserting himself into your relationship. you wanted to yell at him for even saying this to you when he couldn’t be bothered to show up for his only son’s high school graduation. you wanted to defend your love and your commitment to soobin. but as the tears welled up in your eyes, the words caught in your throat. all you could manage was a quiet, “okay.”

“i’m glad you understand. i know we both care about him and we both want the best for him.”

he exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your tears. the last words he spoke echoed in your mind. we both want what’s best for him.

you gathered enough composure and strength, wiping away your tears, and made your way downstairs. you attempted to slip away quietly, but soobin caught you at the door.

“you’re leaving?” the dim light from the porch illuminated his face, casting soft shadows across his features.

“yeah, it’s getting late.”

“are you okay?” he noticed the tremor in your voice.

“yeah, i’m just super tired.”

“oh, okay? what did my dad want to talk to you about?”

“oh, he just asked me to send him the videos and photos i took of you earlier.” the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you pushed it out regardless, hoping to shield soobin from the weight of his father’s words.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, taking hold of your hands. “do you want me to walk you home?”

“no, yeah, i’m fine.” you pull him into a hug for what felt like an eternity. if he noticed anything wrong with you after that, he didn’t bring it up. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

that night, you couldn’t fall asleep. the room seemed to close in around you suffocating in its emptiness. the echoes of the conversation with soobin’s father reverberated in your mind, haunting you.

you grappled with the weight of your fears and insecurities. what if he was right? what if you were holding soobin back? distracting him? the thought had always lingered at the back of your mind since you began dating. and now that he was actually starting at college, that unspoken fear threatened to consume you.

maybe his dad was right. you needed to give him the space that he needed to grow. and it’s not like you had to break up with him. you just needed to keep him at an arm’s length and this summer was a chance for you to learn how to do that with you working. so in the weeks that followed, you found yourself pulling away and creating that distance. the space between you stretched as you took more shifts at work and spent less time with your boyfriend.

“i might move into school a week early,” soobin told you one day when you were hanging out in your room.

you felt your heart sink.

you hadn’t spent that much time together and now you had even less time together. it felt like a cruel twist of fate. still, you masked your disappointment with forced encouragement. “that’s good.” you muttered. “get to know the area better.”

“you think i should go?”

“i mean, if you want to. it seems like a good idea.”

“okay,”

as the day arrived for soobin to leave for school, you felt a void open up within you. the weight of missed moments and unspoken words crushed your soul, suffocating in their intensity. you called out of work but stayed in bed all day, cocooned in the covers, crying about the fact that you couldn’t allow yourself to savor the little time you had with soobin.

when soobin facetimed you later that evening, your heart both leapt and sank at the sight of his face. “hey, let me see your face.”

“i look horrible,” you groaned, but still revealed your face that was covered by your blankets and pillows.

soobin’s brows furrowed when he saw your face with your eyes red and your nose puffy. “have you been crying?”

“no, i’m just sick.” you tried to hide it, to mask the pain, but the cracks in your facade were all too evident.

“please, y/n, don’t lie to me.”

the raw vulnerability in his voice cracked something open within you. “i just miss you and i wish I could have helped you move in.”

“maybe i can come home on the weekend after classes start?” you wanted to revel in the possibility of seeing him again so soon, however the question lingered heavy in the air.

“do you think i’m holding you back from getting the full college experience?”

“where did that come from?”

“what if there’s like… i don’t know, a really cool frat party that weekend? would you miss out on that for me?”

“i think i’d rather see my girlfriend than go to some hypothetical frat party.”

“i’m being serious.”

“do you not want me to come home?” his question hung in the air, like a delicate thread of vulnerability. the room seemed to pulse with unspoken tension. your fingers tightened around the edges of your blanket, grasping for comfort and grounding, as you thought over your answer. every second of the silence felt like a weight on your shoulders.

you sighed. “i do, but–”

“then what’s the problem, y/n?” soobin’s voice, slightly raised, tinged with frustration, cut through the hush. “it seems like ever since the summer started you’ve been pushing me away, and i don’t know if i did something wrong.”

“you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“so what’s up?”

“i just don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time focusing on your high school girlfriend when you have so much life ahead of you.”

“you’re not just my high school girlfriend.” his voice softened.

“that’s not what i meant.”

“you’re also my best friend. and i don’t ever feel like i’m wasting my time by being with you.”

you contemplate telling him what his dad said, but you ultimately decide against it.

“what are you thinking?” he asked after you didn't respond for a while.

“i don’t know.” you confessed, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“i need you to be honest with me because i don’t know what you need or how much more i can reassure you that you’re it for me.”

“maybe we should take a break?” the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“what?” soobin’s eyes widened, disbelief and hurt dancing in their depths.

“just maybe for the semester.” you rushed to explain, “so you can get your footing in school and i can focus on college apps.”

“so, you want to break up?”

“not like a real breakup. we’ll still talk and everything, just with some space.” he looked away, his jaw clenched, like he was processing the idea.

“i can’t believe you’re suggesting this.” his voice cracks as he blinks back the tears welling up in his eyes.

“maybe it’s what we need right now. we’ll still talk.” you promised, mostly trying to convince yourself.

the call ended and the weight of your decision settled on your chest, like a heavy ache that echoed the emptiness you felt inside. in your head, you were making the right choice for both of you, but that didn’t make it any easier. and as hard as you tried to maintain your relationship with soobin, over the next few months, the calls and messages became less frequent. the space between you was growing wider and each interaction held a bittersweet tinge, a mix of familiarity and the painful reminder of what once was.

the next break from school came quicker than you had expected. you sat at your desk, catching up on homework as the late morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. the creak of your bedroom door announced your dad’s presence.

“how are you doing?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

a faint smile danced on your lips as you turned to face him. “i’m not going to kill myself dad,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. “i’m just doing homework.”

“you’ve been in your room all break. i think i’m allowed to be worried.”

you bristled, the walls rising around you like a fortress. “well you shouldn’t be, okay? i’m fine.”

“okay so you don’t care to know that i saw soobin’s car pull up into the driveway?” he asked. you let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, your gaze shifted to the patch of sunlight dancing on the floor.

“are you going to see him?” he gently suggested.

“i don’t know if he wants to see me,” you admitted, your voice a hesitant whisper. the weight of uncertainty settled around you, and your dad’s brow furrowed in empathy. he approached you to comfort you. “i think i messed up,” you confessed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

he paused to study your face, and then he spoke, his tone filled with reassurance. “i’m sure whatever you did isn’t that bad. who could ever not want to see you?”

a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, grateful for his attempt to ease your worries. “you’re just saying that because you’re my dad.”

he reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “you know that’s not true. and you know he wants to see you because he cares for you, and he knows you care for him too.”

“and what if that’s not enough?”

his gaze softened, “then you shouldn’t base your worth on what some guys thinks of you.”

“some guy? i thought you liked soobin.”

“yeah, but i like you more.” he pulled you into a warm embrace, the strength of his love wrapping around you like a shield. as he left the room, a sense of comfort lingered in the air. you sat there, the moment stretching, the decision before you felt like a bridge to cross, but you chose to not let fear dictate your actions.

with a determined exhale, you reached for your phone.

to soob:

hey, i saw you just got home. whenever you get a chance, can you come over? i think we need to talk.

later that night, in the quiet stillness of your room, you receive a knock on your door. your heart quickened. you leaped out of bed, ready to face whatever awaited for you on the other side of the door. 

“hey,” you breathed, the door swinging open to reveal soobin.

“hi,”

“please come in,” you invited him in. you held the door open, allowing him to step into your sanctuary. “how have you been?”

“good,” he replied, though there was a subtle hesitance in his tone.

“really?”

he left out a soft chuckle, a nervous habit that betrayed the calm facade he tried to maintain. “well, no, but i thought it was the appropriate thing to say.” his hand moved to rub the back of his neck. “how are you?”

“been better,” you confessed.

he settled onto the edge of your bed, and you joined him.

“so you wanted to talk?”

“i’m sorry,” the words tumbled from your lips.

“for?”

“everything?” the raw honesty of the moment threatened to engulf you. “asking for a break, not talking to you. i messed everything up.”

“you didn’t mess anything up,” he countered.

“but look at where we are,” you murmured, your gaze falling to the floor, unable to bear the weight of the truth in his eyes.

“and where is that?”

“here.” you took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “i just want us to be good like before,” you said after a long pause.

soobin’s expression softened, “me too. i’ve missed you.”

“like crying and throwing up every night?” you teased.

“eh, something like that,” a hint of a smile played on his lips, the lamplight catching the warmth in his eyes.

“good to know,” you replied, a smile tugging at your own lips.

“i’ve said this before, but you’re really it for me.” 

“is that so?”

“yeah, even though your dad was giving me a stank as i was coming upstairs.”

“he was?”

“yeah, and i thought your parents loved me.”

“they do!”

“that doesn’t sound convincing,” he joked, a genuine laugh filling the room, echoing off the walls.

“they do, they do.” you try to convince him. “they’re just really protective.”

“well, how can i get in their good graces again?”

“maybe by kissing me.” you suggest, teasingly.

“you think kissing their daughter is going to make them not hate me?”

“yeah, i think it might be a start.” you replied, your voice soft, but sure.

“okay.” 

he cups your face, pulling you into a tender kiss. as your lips met his, a surge of warmth spread through you, grounding you in the present moment. your hands found their rightful place on the back of his neck, fingers intertwining with the soft strands of his hair. in that fleeting, stolen breath of moment, the world outside seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you suspended in this fragile, but powerful connection.

when you finally pulled away, the room took a breath with you. in that moment, everything felt right again. you were back to your version of normal, and it was perfect.

soobin sat cross legend on your bed waiting for you to bring up some snacks. it was the first weekend of your spring break and he decided to come down to surprise you. while waiting for you, his gaze fell upon a large envelope on your bedside table, its seal embossed with the emblem of the culinary school that you had told him about.

“okay, this is a new recipe that i’ve been working on.” you announce, walking into the room with a plate of cookies in your hand. “i want you to be honest with me. that being said, if you hate it, i’m going to cry.”

“why didn’t you tell me that you got in.” he asked as he inspected the envelope.

“because i’m not going.” you set the plate on your bed.

“why not?” concern was etched into the lines of his face.

“for starters,” your gaze drifted to the windows. “i got more money from other schools. besides, it’s on the other side of the country.”

“so?”

“so, that’s too far.”

“but you knew where it was when you applied,” he pressed. “and it’s your dream school.”

“That doesn’t matter, soobin.”

“well, why not?”

“because, you’re here.” you admitted.

“so, you’re staying for me?”

“you don’t want me to?”

“no,”

“oh,”

“y/n,” he leaned forward, reaching out to touch your hand. “i don’t want you to give up on your dreams because of me.” his thumb was tracing patterns on your hand. “why is it so easy for you to understand when it comes to me but not when it comes to you?”

“i’m not giving up on my dreams,” you argued, your eyes meeting the boy on your bed with determination. “i just want to be with you right now.”

his fingers tightened around yours, trying to grasp the gravity of your decision. “we can still be together.”

“with 2000 miles between us?” you questioned. “we could barely handle a hundred. we’re finally good again. i don’t want to go to school across the country and have that change.”

“nothing’s going to change.”

“you don’t know that.”

“you’re right, i don’t know that.” he began, “but i do know that we literally broke up six months ago, and now i’m sitting on your bed again.”

“it wasn’t a break up; it was a break,” you interjected, a small smile playing on your lips.

“okay,” he dragged out the last syllable. “but my point still stands. we’ve been through a lot and we always end up right beside each other.”

you get your laptop from your desk and log into the admissions portal. “are you going to accept it now?”

“no time like the present.”

five months later, you found yourself getting in a taxi to your dorm with your parents by your side. they insisted on driving you there, but you managed to convince them that a cross country road trip would cause more harm than good to your familial relationship.

as you settled into the backseat of the cab, the familiar scent of your mother’s perfume enveloped you. the engine hummed softly beneath you, and the rhythmic sound of tires on pavement created a comforting backdrop.

your mother’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and a touch of sadness. she reached over and gently squeezed your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “are you excited, honey?” she asked.

your father, who sat in the front seat, spent the entire ride bombarding you with questions about pepper spray.

you managed to drown out your parents, looking out the window, watching the cityscape evolve as you approached your dorm. the towering skyscrapers seemed to reach for the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling streets. you felt a knot of nervous energy settle in your stomach.

at your dorm, your parents helped you carry your bags up to your room. the air tingled with the scent of freshly painted walls and the promise of new beginnings. your room was a blank canvas, waiting for you to imprint it with your personality.

as you unpacked, your mother offered suggestions for organizing your belongings, and your father, more practically, made a list of all the necessities you needed to get like extra blankets and a first aid kit.

yuna, whose school went back in session a few days earlier, texted you inviting you to hang out with her and her roommate. you walked your parents back to their hotel, eating takeout from a nearby chinese restaurant in their room.

as the meal came to an end, there was a bittersweet air, as you gathered your things and left their room. you met yuna in a park downtown, sitting with her roommate. you ran towards her, the anticipation and joy bubbling over. she enveloped you in a tight hug. “i’m so glad you’re finally here.”

as you walked through the park, the conversation flowed effortlessly. you felt a sense of peace settle over you. it was like the first taste of the home you were building for yourself in this new, unfamiliar place.

you arrived back at your dorm alone. your room greeted you with a sense of familiarity. your side was a collage of memories and personal touches – framed photos, trinkets from home, and the soft glow of fairy lights casting a warm, golden hue.

you sat on your bed, looking out the window, the skyscrapers now standing in line with you. the city’s pulsed thrummed faintly in the distance. gone were the nerves that accompanied you earlier. in their place, a newfound sense of determination settled within you. you knew you had to do what you needed to make this place your own. it was the beginning of a new chapter, and you were ready to embrace it with open arms.

and luckily for you, this new chapter did not come at the detriment of your relationship at first. for the first two months of the semester, you and soobin were still talking everyday and about everything – your classes, the new recipes you were working on, how one of your professors worked at one of the most famous restaurants in the world, and about your friends, how much yuna’s presence helped you settle in, how your roommate neither leaves the room nor says a word to you.

for the first time in this relationship, you could almost say that everything was fine.

but as time went on, you felt yourselves shifting into your old patterns of not talking to each other. in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that soobin had lied. it seemed like everything was changing. or maybe he was right. maybe this was how it always was. there were never enough hours in the day for you guys to be together and you were coming to find that had always been a pattern throughout your relationship. it was just like eighth grade, or the summer before he left for college, or his first semester of college. the story was almost exactly the same – first it was missing texts because of conflicting class times and time zones. but then hours became days which became weeks and before you knew it, winter break was knocking on your door.

this was the first time you would see soobin in four months and the only thing that you wanted to do was melt into his arms. the familiar sights of your childhood neighborhood rushed past as your dad drove you home from the airport. every turn brought you closer to that one house on the street, the house that held so many memories, and now, the promise of reconnection.

as the car pulled into your driveway, you couldn’t contain your excitement. leaping out, you dashed inside your house, tossing your bags onto your bedroom floor with reckless abandon.

his mother greeted you at the door. “y/n, honey, you’re back!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

growing up, you never spent much time outside of soobin’s bedroom in his home. his father’s relentless work schedule and his mother’s hesitancy to host guests left the rest of the house shrouded in a quiet unfamiliarity. as you walked through the hallways, you thought about how cold and gray the house looked the summer they moved in. it wasn’t much different now.

a deep breath steadied you as you approached soobin’s closed door.

some things didn’t change. the butterflies that swarmed around in your stomach were a constant companion that signaled you were exactly where you needed to be. but then you thought about how lonely you were without him this semester and you decided that maybe everything changing was for the best.

“y/n, you’re home?” his face betrayed him showing confusion. he never had the best poker face.

“yeah,” you affirmed softly, pushing open the door. there, before you, sat a girl at his desk.

or not.

“uh, this is my friend from school, arin. she couldn’t get a flight home for winter break, so she’s staying here.” soobin explained.

“oh,” you responded with a mix of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

arin extended her hand to you. “hi, it’s so nice to meet you. you must be soobin’s neighbor.”

“and his girlfriend,” you added, declaring your place in the room.

awkward tension hung in the air, a palpable shift in dynamics. as the evening unfolded, you settled into a corner of the room, watching the two converse. your gaze shifted between them, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. you marveled at the ease with which they fell into conversation, recounting stories, laughing. a truly unsettling sight. a pang of envy tugged at your heart.

as the night wore on, their voices became a distant hum to you. you felt like a silent observer, a piece of scenery, fading into the background. you did not plan on watching your boyfriend giggle at someone else’s stories for three hours. you longed for his attention, but that seemed like an impossible request.

soobin, engrossed in his conversation, was too oblivious to your discomfort. it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but rather he was just caught up.

you watched them with a mixture of longing and resignation, trying to convince yourself that this was just a temporary moment of disconnect and that soobin would turn his attention back to you soon. but with each passing minute, that hope waned.

gathering resolve, you got up. “i think i’m going to head home.” you announced.

soobin and arin turned their attention to you, momentarily pulling away from their conversation. 

“are you sure?” soobin asked you.

you nodded. “yeah, it’s been a long day. i’ll see you later, soobin. it was nice to meet you, arin.” you turned back to your boyfriend, waiting for his response.

“i’ll walk you home,” he offered.

leaving the room, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at arin, who was now engrossed in something on her phone. the ache in your chest grew.

the two of you stood in front of your house, the chill of the evening air settling around you. the soft glow from the porch light illuminated the path that led to your front door.

“so, she’s staying the entirety of winter break?” you asked.

“yup,” soobin replied, his words punctuated by a casual pop of the ‘p’. “is there something wrong?”

you hesitated for a moment. “no,” you finally shook your head, a small, rueful smile gracing your lips. “i just wanted to spend time with you alone.”

“we can still spend time together,” he assured. “i feel like you two would get along. she’s a lot like you.”

the reassurance didn’t offer the comfort you sought. instead, it settled uneasily in your stomach. you offered a distracted response, your gaze drifting from the quiet street to your front door. 

“yeah, maybe.”

“are you okay?” soobin asked, pulling you back to the present moment.

you forced a smile, masking the swirl of conflicting emotions beneath the surface. “yeah, just tired.”

“okay, goodnight, i’ll see you tomorrow.” he said, leaning down to kiss you. the touch of his lips felt foreign, like a puzzle piece that no longer fit quite right. it was an odd sensation, leaving you with a lingering sense of disconnection. like you were slipping away from each other. you didn’t want to think too much about it, but deep down you knew that no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, it would be no use.

“goodnight,” you whispered, stepping back and slipping into the warmth of your house.

the days that followed were a dance of awkwardness and unspoken tension. you yearned for soobin’s attention, for the familiar touch of his hand, but it just seemed so out of reach.

one chilly afternoon, you all gathered at a small diner on the corner of town. the warm scent of comfort food wrapped around you as you settled into the vinyl booth opposite arin. your boyfriend trailed behind you, hesitating for a moment before sliding into the booth beside you, a subtle shift that did not go unnoticed. it was a tiny pang, but it was there.

you smiled and tried to shake off the unease, focusing on the menu in front of you. as you chatted about school and plans for the break, you couldn’t help but notice soobin’s gaze flickering between the two of you. it was as if he was trying to find balance in a delicate equation.

another time, the three of you planned to visit the ice skating rink. when you arrived at soobin’s house, you were met with the unfamiliar sight of arin in the front seat of the car. you hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to sit. the glance you exchanged with arin held a silent question, but before you could say anything, soobin assured you it wasn’t a big deal.

as the car pulled away, the hum of their conversation and the pulse of the music filled the space, leaving you feeling like a distant observer.

you invited soobin over for a movie night, so imagine your surprise when you opened your front door to see both of them. you smiled dropped as you welcomed them into your house. this was supposed to bring back a flicker of normalcy. you were supposed to nestle into your boyfriend’s side. but even as the movie played, there was a subtle shift in the air. every moment spent with arin was a reminder of the growing distance, like a river slowly widening between you and the person you held closest.

then came that one precious weekend, a rare convergence of circumstances. both of you found your parents out of town at the same time. you invited soobin over and unfortunately, arin was working on a project for school so she couldn’t join. you had to stifle a surge of joy that threatened to bubble over.

“i’m so happy that we’re finally spending time together,” you exclaimed, gently closing your bedroom door behind you. soobin sat on your bed, with your computer resting on his lap. “alone.” you emphasized, a smile playing on your lips.

with purposeful steps, you crossed the room. you carefully lifted the laptop from his lap, placing it on your bedside table. then, with a graceful movement, you straddled his lap, feeling the warmth and familiarity of his presence beneath you.

“i really missed you,” you murmured, your breath mingling with his. leaning in, you captured his lips in a tender kiss.

the room pulsed with newfound energy as the kiss deepened. soobin’s touch was gentle as his hands found their place on the small of your back, holding you close, grounding you in the moment.

as passion ignited between you, a fire that had been smoldering for far too long, you hands moved with purpose, fingers deftly working to remove the barrier that separated you from him.

but then, he pulled away, his breaths coming in measured, uneven intervals. “w-what are you doing?”

“i’m ready,” you replied, your own voice barely above a whisper. the air crackled with tension, every beat of your heart echoing in the silence that followed.

he sat up straighter, his gaze locked with yours. “are you sure?”

“yes, soobin, i’m sure,” you asserted, mustering more confidence. “i want this.”

he took a moment, his breath steadying, before he spoke. “alright,” he said softly.

he gently guided you back onto the bed. “it might be more comfortable if i’m on top,” he suggested. he removed his shirt, casually tossing it to a corner of your room. “please tell me if you want me to stop.”

you nodded in understanding.

“i’m serious, y/n. i need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

“okay, i will.”

your heart raced as you laid there, your senses heightened. nervous energy tingled through your veins as his hands caressed your sides. his fingers traced the curves of your hips and thighs slowly. every inch of your body lit with flames as he touched you ever so lightly.

slowly, you mirrored his movements, your hands reached for the hem of your t-shirt. with a deep breath, you took off the old t-shirt to match him, laying eagerly in your pretty pink bra.

he stopped to look at you. “wow.” he breathed out. a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks, and you instinctively buried your face in  your hands. he pulled your hands down. “don’t hide your face from me, baby.” he murmured with tender eyes. “you’re just so pretty.”

you pulled him down to kiss him. “i need you,” you moaned into the kiss.

soobin’s mouth never left your body as he fumbled with his pants. he licked and sucked on your neck, taking his time with his gray sweatpants. soft moans and sighs kept slipping from your lips as he marked your skin.

“wait,” he stopped. “do you have a condom?”

“top drawer,” you breathed out.

soobin reached into the drawer by the bed, his fingers deftly finding the box nestled amidst an array of trinkets.

“open up for me.” you did as he said, and spread your legs a little wider. he could tell you were nervous as he pulled down your shorts. “do you trust me?” he asked, to which you nodded. “it might hurt for a second, but i promise you, it will only be a tiny amount of pain.” you wrapped your legs around his waist and he slowly rocked his hips against you.

you felt him position his hips so that they were perfectly in line with yours, his tip edging your entrance. he began to work his way into you inch by inch, before steadily pushing in until you were filled with his entire length. he threw his head back in pleasure as he bottomed out in you. your hands still on the back of his neck, you nudged him closer to you. “i know it hurts, baby. i’m sorry. just tell me what you need.”

the pain and discomfort was quickly replaced with pleasure. you gasped quietly, and soobin took it as a sign to finally begin moving. he fell into a rhythm of deep slow thrusts just sent you spiraling. he leaned his face down to your neck for a moment, pressing kisses along your flesh and nipping at your shoulder.

“f-fuck, you feel so good.”

he raised his face again, your noses inches apart. your face was contorted in pleasure and he couldn’t help but groan, thrusting into your harder.

“soobin?” you moaned out.

“yeah, baby? i’m right here.”

“i love you.”

he leaned back down to kiss you, his lips trailing down your jawline to your neck.

every kiss, every thrust progressively getting faster was sending you over the edge, making you pant and moan underneath him. the sounds coming from you were making his head spin and he could feel himself getting closer to his orgasm.

he was hitting you in the right spot, causing a knot to form in your lower stomach as you approached your breaking point. the knot in your stomach tightened and snapped. your walls spasmed and clenched around him as you released all over his cock. your body was shaking from the intensity, as you cried his name out. fueling his organs. his hips stuttered and he joined you in climax.

his movements ceased to slow rolls of his hips before eventually stopping.

soft pants and deep breaths invaded the space and filled the room around you. you stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath. he then carefully pulled out. he held your body close to his chest, his eyes softening as he looked down at your exhausted face. 

you nuzzled your head into soobin’s neck, kissing along his jawline. “that was so good.” you said between kisses. soobin responded with a contented hum, his fingers gently rubbing against your arm. the soft rustle of the sheets provided a soothing backdrop to the intimacy you had just shared, cocooning you in a bubble of fleeting bliss

but as the minutes passed, a subtle shift began to settle between you, like a distant tremor foreshadowing an impending quake. soobin’s touch, once tender and reassuring, began to falter. his breath, once steady and calming, now held an undertone of uncertainty.

“i should probably go back home,” soobin said, his arm slowly retreating from around your shoulder. “arin is alone.”

“seriously?” you turned to face him, a mixture of confusion and anger plastered on your face.

“what? she’s a guest.”

“you’re leaving?” you hold onto his arm, desperate to keep him close. “i thought you were going to spend the night.”

“i can’t leave her alone.”

“soobin, i just lost my virginity to you…” your voice trailed off, tears forming in your eyes. your hands dropped to your lap. the room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence.

“y/n–” you could feel your blood boiling.

“don’t.” you shifted away from him on the bed. “i just lost my virginity to you and you want to spend the night with some other girl.”

“i’m not spending the night with her.”

“what’s so special about her?”

“what?”

“why have you chosen to spend every moment of this break with her instead of me?”

“we spend time together.”

“yeah, with her always there.”

the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of your words settling into the air.

“she’s my friend and i care about her.”

“you care about her?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, every word laced with a pain that cut through the silence.

“yes i do. she couldn’t go home for winter break. I just want to make sure she doesn’t feel alone.”

“well what about me?”

“y/n, come on.”

“i told you i loved you.”

“y/n, i–” you could almost hear your heart break. he couldn’t even say it back to you.

you quickly sobered up, your walls rising like a fortress around you. “i think you should leave.”

“hey,” he reached out to hold you, but you swatted his hand away, the touch too little, too late. his fingers hung in the air for a moment before dropping, defeated.

“no. i don’t want you here anymore. you should go home.”

soobin stood up and got dressed. his movements were deliberate and slow as he gathered his scattered clothes. he dressed in silence, every gesture laden with a sense of finality. as he stood by the door, fully dressed, soobin turned to look at you. his eyes held a mixture of regret and longing, a silent plea for understanding that hung in the space between you. you met his gaze, your heart aching with a complex blend of emotions – love, betrayal, and a yearning for something that now felt impossibly distant.

the door creaked open and closed softly, the sound echoing in the hollow space left behind. 

putting on a robe, you sat by your window, watching him go into his house, praying, hoping that he would turn around, see you sitting by your window, come back to you. but he just walked into his house, the door closing with a finality that sent a shiver down your spine. your room felt emptier than ever before.

you laid in your bed and let the tears fall freely, each drop a painful release. the weight of reality settled on your chest. a heavy ache seeped into your bones.

the days that followed felt like a slow-motion train wreck. it was as if the color had drained from the world, leaving only shades of gray. every passing moment that you didn’t hear from soobin was a jagged piece of glass, cutting into your soul. each night seemed longer than the last, filled with the silent echo of his absence.

you didn’t even know what hurt more — the raw vulnerability of giving him everything, only to have him leave, or the deafening silence that followed. the unanswered questions swirled like a storm in your mind. why hadn’t he reached out? was he feeling the same heartache that clung to your every breath?

his even parents visited for dinner and you had to paint a smile on your face throughout to hide the storm that raged within. when his mom inquired about your absence, you concocted a tale, your voice steady even though your heart felt like it might shatter.

other than your parents, the only person you spoke to was yuna, who became your lifeline even though she was on vacation with her parents. she was a voice of reason and a source of much-needed laughter. “honestly, fuck him. and fuck her too,” she declared.

“she didn’t even do anything,” you murmured in arin’s defense.

“who the fuck sits in the front seat of someone else’s boyfriend’s car?” yuna fired back, making you chuckle.

"i wish you were here. it's so miserable. i can't even leave my house because i'm scared i'm going to see him," you confessed, your voice a whisper edged with pain.

"if i was there, he'd probably have to file a restraining order against me."

returning to campus was like stepping onto a battlefield, but yuna was determined to wage war against the memories that threatened to engulf you and make you forget about a certain dark haired boy whose name you were no longer allowed to say. “you know what they say: in order to get over someone, you need to get under someone else.” she proclaimed from your closet, picking out something for you to wear tonight.

“i don’t know if i’m ready to get under someone else,” you admitted, fixing your mascara in your bathroom mirror, dressed in your robe.

“doesn’t matter if you actually do. you just need to get your mind off of him.” she hands you a black dress. “wear this. it always looks good on you.”

and so, you allowed yourself to be swept up in a night of bar hopping. the pulsing music and laughter washed over you like a healing balm. for a few precious hours, you were just another college student, drowning your sorrows in neon lights and thumping bass.

between the nights out, you threw yourself completely into your studies, the pursuit of a summer internship becoming your north star. you came to school to do something, and you weren’t going to let your heartache consume you.

spring was always a happy time for you. the air was warm, carrying with it the promise of renewal. it had been months since you had thought about soobin, and even longer since you had seen him. for the first time since that unfortunate night, you felt like you were completely over him. or at least getting there.

as you strolled back to your dorm from class, the world hummed with a quiet energy. the sun hung low in the sky and the air was soft and warm against your skin. but then you saw a familiar silhouette leaning against your dorm building. time seemed to stretch in that moment, the world around you fading into a blur. your heart quickened its pace, a staccato beat echoing in your chest.

"y/n," he breathed, his voice a soft plea that hung in the air. his presence was a sudden gust of wind, stirring the carefully constructed walls around your heart.

your guard was up, a fortress of steel around your heart. you wouldn't let him waltz back into your life just to tear you apart again. "what are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

"i wanted to talk to you."

"how did you find my address?"

"your mom gave it to my mom, who gave it to me."

you let him into your building, signing him in with the security guards in the front. the familiar surroundings now felt foreign with him there. in the confines of your dorm room, he looked around, his gaze grazing over the familiar details that now seemed foreign.

“you said you wanted to talk. so talk.” you said to him sitting down. you were so grateful that your roommate had gone to class. you really didn’t need her to be in the room with you now.

he glanced around, his face marked with uncertainty. “i don’t know where to start.”

you met his gaze without a word.

“i guess… i could start with sorry.” he offered with a nervous chuckle.

“i think that’s too little, too late, soobin.” you asserted, matter of factly.

“i miss you.”

“you can’t keep saying that.” your shoulders sunk. looking at him now, you could feel all the emotions bubbling back up — the anger, the hurt, the tears, they were all coming back to you.

“i know, but it’s true.” he rushed to add. “that’s why i came here. i wanted to see you. i know we didn’t leave things the right way.”

“soobin, you were the first person i ever had sex with and you left me right after.” you tried to keep your cool and maintain your composure, but it was getting increasingly harder.

“i-i know. i’m sorry,” he stammered, remorse filling his eyes.

“is that all you came here to say? sorry?” he looked at you apologetically, offering no further words. “you hurt me so much and you couldn’t even say anything to me afterwards. i waited everyday for months to see if you would ever call me and you didn’t. it was like i meant nothing to you. it was just so easy for you to forget that i existed.” as the words flowed, you felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness wash over you. the wounds were still fresh, but there was a catharsis in finally addressing the unspoken.

“i’m s—” he stopped himself. “i know i hurt you. i don’t know what i can do to make it right.”

“i don’t think there’s anything you can do to make it right.” you said, wiping the slow tears from your face. you sat up, meeting his gaze squarely. “i spent our entire relationship fighting for you to pay attention to me. i can’t do that anymore. i don’t want to beg someone to care about me.”

“i care about you. you know that.”

“do i?”

“i didn’t think this conversation would go like this if i’m being completely honest.”

“i’m not angry at you anymore. at least i’m trying not to be.” you tell him. “and i don’t hate you, if you thought i did. i don’t think i could ever hate you.”

“i don’t think i can’t not have you in my life.”

“i’m still your neighbor.” you joked.

“it’s not the same.” he admitted quietly, sitting beside you. “y/n, i love you.”

“soobin–” you turned to face him, searching his eyes for any sign that he understood the depth of your pain.

“i know, it’s too late. i just wanted you to know.” his gaze fixed on his hands, fingers tracing invisible patterns on his jeans. “i can’t erase the past. but i want to try to make amends, to find a way back to some semblance of… of friendship, maybe.”

friendship. the word hung in the air, a fragile bridge between your shared history and the uncertain future.

“i don’t know if we can be friends. not right now, at least. maybe not ever.”

he looked up, pain etched in the frown lines across his face. “i understand,” he murmured, voice heavy with regret.

silence enveloped, broken only by the distant sounds of life outside. after what felt like an eternity, you finally spoke, your voice softer now. “i think i need time. to you know, figure out my shit.”

he nodded. “i want you to know that i’m sorry. truly.”

“i know.”

with a heavy heart, you walked him to the door. as he left, you closed the door behind him, leaning against it for support. alone in the quiet of your dorm, you let the tears come. finally you had a release of all the emotions long held in check. you had tried your hardest to bury them, but now it was time for them to finally come out. the pain was still there, but with each tear that fell, you felt a small measure of healing begin.

in the days that followed, you took each moment as it came, allowing yourself to grieve for what was lost and to slowly rediscover the strength within you. spring continued to dance outside, and you vowed to find your own renewal.

[ch4nb4ng]

Over the 8 seas: Jisung

Pairing: afab!reader x jisung

Word count: 9.1k … (yeah we got off track on this one)

Warnings : dom!jisung, sub!reader, lots of mentions of breast, masturbation (m and f), titty fucking (?), intercourse, mentions of male ejaculation, praise, perv (jisung is a massive perv lmao), Inspo (warning: it’s literally porn), male aggression, mentions of intoxication and alcohol.

Note: welcome to another installment !! tagging @j-0ne25 bc they wanted to be tagged:) hope you enjoy :))))

Summary: One thing leads to another when Jisung admits to having his eyes on you when he definitely shouldn’t have.

The salt of the air, the combination of the water and descending of the sunrise was not only the signal of the closing day, but the winding down of the summer season for another year. The peak was over, and that meant your stress levels could go back to what they were before this all started. 

Lifting a very heavy weight off of your shoulders meant there would be less things to do and people to worry about. Yes, Bondi was one of the busiest beaches, but as soon as March hit, most of the tourists were gone, and it was nothing but pretentious locals walking the dogs along the shore, or running along the beach line at 6:30am before the typical 9-5 office job. It’s not like you were judging all 9-5 goers, just specifically the joggers, because you couldn't remember the last time you had a decent interaction with one of them.

The back of your hand came to your forehead, swiping the precipitated skin as you took what felt like a seat in a long time. A sigh of relief came from your lips, exasperated from the variety of missing children, adults illegally bringing and littering alcohol bottles on public property, oh boy, the people who did not swim between the flags. It was a long day, meaning that you were looking forward to just slumping down on the couch and watching another episode of whatever HBO series you were watching with a heavy pour of red wine.

“What a fucking day,” Jisung sighed, scaring the complete shit out of you.

“Jesus Jisung,” you cried, almost falling out of your seat. Your reaction made him chuckle, throwing his hands in the air like a weapon had been pointed directly at him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jisung was one of your oldest friends at the beach. He is one of the only people that have worked at the beach for as long as you have. Always keen, eager, motivated. Helping others was the joy he got from life. Jisung possessed many qualities that you wish you possessed. Patience, warm heartedness. It was easy to fall for Jisung, and you have a couple of times. It was just too bad that your job got in the way and the minute detail of Jisung having a girlfriend most of the time. You thought that maybe this was it for you. Time to give up.

“It’s okay Sungie,” you giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful manner, “today was crazy, wasn’t it?”

“That’s an understatement,” he scoffed, turning away and opening the communal fridge, grabbing out a sandwich. He turned back around, sitting next to you. Your gaze became one of disappointment.

“Don’t tell me that’s your lunch?”

He shrugged in response, “It’s okay. Like you said, today was busy right?”

A hint of anger simmered in your heart. It was admirable yet frustrating that this was kind of the person he was. So selfless that he never put himself first. Taking care of himself last. This was something that he was adamant about. Something he always did from the day you met him.  

“Still,” you playfully smacked him again, “you have to take care of yourself first before anyone else.”

He took another bite of his food, resting the calloused palm that was his right hand on your right knee. He gave you a look. One that mixed gratitude, but there was something else, something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His lips almost trembled, like he was hesitant, nervous to say something. 

“Y/n, you don’t have to worry about me,” he whispered, like for some reason he was worried that someone would hear, like a big secret, “I know you do and I appreciate it, but I’m okay.”

Jisung’s body language was the catalyst for the tension in the room suddenly changing. He leaned closer, the hair on your skin rising with each movement. His gaze was to the floor, but yours was stuck on him. Was this finally the moment that you had been secretly hoping for? The gentle kiss of the perfect man that has been by your side the whole time? Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, really not sure what you were supposed to be anticipating. Jisung was a man that held his cards close to his chest.

“Y/n, I-”

You blinked a couple times, making sure that you were not dreaming and that it truly was a real moment.

“Yeah?” your stare practically glued to him, his features, any indication that he was giving to help you understand  any cognitions he was having. But he was like an actor: able to hide and convey his emotions when appropriate. There was not one flaw to this man, and it was slowly killing you on the inside how long this was taking, even this event was anything.

“I-”

“Summer is fucking over let’s go!”

For fucks sake. You almost fell out of your chair once more, having the second fright of your life when you heard the loudmouth that was Changbin walk into the tearoom with just way too much energy for someone who was at the end of their shift. He froze in his step, already seeing too much between you and Jisung.

“You guys okay?”

“What? Oh yeah,” you huffed, hitting the air with your palm, “just tired from a long day, right Jisung?”

Your eyes widened at him, sincerely hoping he would not blow your cover of whatever it was that just happened. 

“Yeah, super tired, only eating my lunch now.”

The smile on your face faded gently as you got up, placing your coffee cup in the sink. “Fuck,” you whispered, dropping your phone on the floor. Jisung, of course being the gentleman he was, noticed and dropped the floor with you in an attempt to pick it up for you. What you didn’t expect to see was where his eyes landed. It was only for a split second, but it was enough to make the heat in your cheeks rise. You were right, this particular lifeguard shirt was that little too big for you, however, what you didn't expect was Jisung, the man that could be by defined chivalry and dismantled the patriarchy taking advantage of said gap, with his eyes. They were wide too, like it was a kid finding their favorite flavored lollipop in a candy store. It really was enough for you to squeeze the fabric together as the two of your rose. It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable, if anything it was the opposite. It was more just to save face as Changbin was still lingering around with his very unwanted presence that the current moment. He still, between the ogling, managed to pick up your phone.

“Here,” he mumbled, now unable to look at you completely.

“Thanks,” you smiled, a silence filling the room as the two of you stared, unsure whether to mention the tension in the air coming to an all time peak. Did he know that he had been caught? Were you perceiving this completely wrong? It was one thing to accuse the guy of staring at your tits, it was another to embarrass him in front of his other colleague and superior when it may not have even been true. An objective perspective, however, could see that there was so much more, the layers of chemistry was an overwhelming revelation.

“What the fuck is up with you guys?”

Heads snapped simultaneously, a look of disdain causing your cheeks to turn upwards and the lack of manners Changbin, with his legs spread wide, chewing and talking, yelling, interfering with his mouth open. Crunchy flakes crusting on the sound of his mouth. 

“Jesus christ, Changbin,” your mouth was upturned in the most disgust, “ever heard of talking after swallowing your food?”

“Yeah dude” Jisung scoffed, “I love you and all, but you really have to learn how to act like you're not a neanderthal sometimes.”

The adult child scoffed, a large chunk of corn flake coming out.

“You guys stop deflecting, and just fuck.”

An audible gasp was heard from the bellows of your throat.

“Changbin,” Jisung growled, chest beginning to puff, “what the fuck-”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his chest to deflate him a little, “Changbin, that is so inappropriate. I understand this is a friendly environment and we are friends, but I will not be disrespected in the workplace like this. Don’t make this hostile, otherwise I will report you, do you understand?”

The young man nodded, small, suddenly closing his legs and off from the two of you, eating the rest of his food in peace. Wanting to evade the awkwardness, you nudged Jisung, signaling him to leave with you. He was flabbergasted, not used to seeing you talk like this. Maybe it was an overreaction from you. Maybe because part of you wished it was true. It was still unprofessional to say, especially in front of others.

Walking into the locker/shower room was fine, needing to grab yourself. So did Jisung too. Another silence fell over as the two of you packed your things for the day.

“Do you think I was too harsh?” you questioned, closing your locker door behind you.

“Not at all,” Jisung reassured you, following your actions with the locker door, “it’s super inappropriate to talk like that at work?”

“Right? And where would he even get that from?”

A forced laugh came from your lips. Definitely not from the way you were exchanging lingering looks for an abnormally long time. Not him staring at the gap in your shirt. There was definitely no reason for Changbin to come to such a conclusion.

“Yeah,” Jisung scoffed, way too loud to be convincing, “that’s crazy talk.”

“Definitely. Anyways, I’m going to have a shower and then go. Did you need anything from me?”

“Uh,” scratching the back of his head, he became stuck in thought, “not that I can think of.”

“Okay,” you smiled, heading into the stall, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He nodded, about to turn and leave, but it was when you forgot to completely close the stall, and he detected out of the peripheral vision of his right eye that your hands were above your head, initiating the process of discarding your clothes. Was this a test for him? He wasn’t sure. But he was willing to take the bait. Creeping to the side of the stall, Jisung had a perfect view of you, your bikini top resting atop your chest. He had never been so jealous of a piece of clothing in his life. He had to stop his breathing when it was then discarded next, the image of your breasts, almost like relieving themselves from a hard day of work,  they escaped the suffocating clothing, well in his mind they were suffocating.  He really had never been so attracted to someone in his life. Jisung could feel the tent in his pants approaching as soon as the water was turned on and you were standing under it. A simple hum escaped your lips as you allowed the cascading stream of steamy water to enclose your body, tiny droplets pitter pattering across your chest, the intensity of the water making your nipples hard; Jisung was in heaven.

The only part of you that he was focused on was your chest. Jisung did not even take a second to notice your glistening arms, legs or waist. He was so fixated that he truly forgot where he was. It baffled him that you failed to notice his presence there, hard, longing for you in an amount he never had before.

The water felt nice. It was able to help you relax from the intense situation you had found yourself in. Almost a little too much. Your mind couldn’t help but wander, traveling to the multitudes of scenarios that popped up from the various half and hour of being that close to Jisung. It was easy to take those times further, the storytelling part of your brain was exquisite. It’s what helped come to the visually pleasing image as you closed your eyes, hands roaming across your hips, stomach, waist, chest. Exactly where he was looking. You knew better than to do what you were about to do at this very moment; but you couldn't help it. Forgetting where you were was way too easy as your fingers attached themselves to the sensitive nubs, gently pinching and squeezing in such a comfortable way. A gentle groan came from your lips as one hand flicked, the other massaged the corresponding breast, now a multitude of soft whimpers and moans spilling from your throat, quiet in a poor attempt of making sure no one heard. But you didn't know any better. This was almost an everyday ritual, whether at home or here, it did not matter. When you have privacy (or so you thought) it was a moment alone when you were at peace with yourself. Your mind, however, is always racing, consuming thoughts of him. Jisung was the perfect man in your eyes. So care free and fun, while simultaneously respectful. It was almost impossible that such a man existed.

Or so you thought, because when the moment he saw you reach for what he considered to be those beautifully shaped nipples, his jaw was on the floor, slack in complete disbelief at the idea of you just touching yourself like that, in public, door open, anyone able to walk in at any moment. Maybe that’s the hottest thing he found about this. That you were so confident yet concurrently careless. Fuck, were you doing this on purpose?

It didn’t matter, because even when your fingers disappeared from your chest down to your core, the damp tingling in between your legs, he paid no mind, truly fascinated at how they got harder with each passing second. Jisung was careless about his own hardening body parts, truly in a trance of how beautiful he perceived your actions to be. He didn’t even think about it in a way that was nasty, hot, sexy, even though it was. He was in a truly mesmerized state, one that he could stay in forever. Even when you were leaning against the wall of the stall, hips caressing your fingers, getting closer and closer to the edge. It wasn’t until he heard footsteps vaguely close to the locker room that he shit himself, a quick step into the empty stall next to him until it was gone. It was only then he realized the ramifications of his actions. An immense level of guilt washed over his body at the epiphany. What made it worse was that he was still completely erect, cock far from cooling off even though the hurts that swiped across his mind were telling him how disgusting he was. He felt betrayed by his brain, like he was a massive hypocrite. If he was being honest, any chance he got he took the chance to stare at your chest. A split second when you’re talking to him. When you can see him, when you think he can’t. Jisung was a dirty boy with a pervasive mind. He even remembered the first time he did it.

You were standing there, back to Jisung, innocently taking your top off and turning around to him, bikini only as you were having a serious conversation about supplies or funding or some fucking irrelevant shit about the beach; his actual fucking job. 

Like yourself, he prided himself on being respectful, a gentle gentleman. Chivalrous, everything you described him to be, he was; on the outside; but Jisung truly, was a dirty boy with a pervasive mind.

Panic began to flood his limbs as he tiptoed as fast as he could, grabbing his stuff and heading for the door. He was whipped lashed, however, by Felix, the younger amateur lifeguard that he very much forgot he promised to give a ride home. He was way too distracted by a pair of boobs, but he was also very much in denial about it.

“Jisung?”

He said nothing, instead turning to the boy who had a confused look on his face.

“I’ve been waiting for half an hour for you. Didn’t you finish at 6?”

Fuck, 30 mins he spent staring at your fucking chest. To jisung however it still wasn’t enough.

“What? Oh, yeah I had to help Y/n with putting some equipment away, sorry dude I should have texted you.”

“Oh that’s cool,” Fliex shrugged, really unsure how to interpret Jisung’s face. It truly was like he had just seen a ghost.

What it really was, however, was the lingering guilt, disgust, repulsion he felt for himself in the moment. Even the drive home was quiet, unable to even comprehend the music playing. Jisung was really just going through the motions as he dropped Felix off, parked his car, walked into his apartment and threw his shit on the ground, falling in the shape of a snow angel on his bed.

He pondered as he stared at the ceiling, robot-like actions coming to a halt, the familiar feelings of disgust and guilt coming back. The way he opened your instagram late at night and jerked off to almost all of your pictures. You were his best friend, he really shouldn’t think of you like that.

You, on the other hand, were no better. The similar, perverted thoughts consumed your mind as well. You just fucking masturbated at your place of work, to your coworker, in a public space that anyone could have seen. Your extremely sexy and attractive coworker, but that didn’t make it better. 

A shower at home, again, was enough for the moment to rid yourself, quite literally wash yourself off your sin. Forget the mind boggling orgasm that was provoked by the thought of Jisung being close to you. It was back to grandma mode for you, glasses on, side lamp on and reading a book to help you fall asleep. Your mind was back at peace, partly wanting to forget today. It was always a lingering thought in your mind.

Your lids were shutting, on the verge of falling into a deep sleep, that was, until your phone buzzed, almost falling off your side table as you opened one eye, groaning in annoyance that you had to check it. Huh? J-han00 liked your post? You didn’t post a pic. Your curiosity got the better of you, clicking on the notification. But as soon as you did, opening instagram, it was gone. What an idiot you thought. Stalking you. The smile on your face, on the contrary, told another story. It didn’t matter, because it was time to sleep, and you did like a baby.

It was when you got to work, the calmness and lack of regret switched into full blown anxiousness and real regret, because your heart sank to your ass when you saw him. But you couldn't forget that you were a leader. You were the managing lifeguard of the fucking Bondi beach. You knew better than to let this little crush overtake your very serious work. A born leader does not walk away when the going gets tough.

Today, thank god, was an admin day for you. No active duty. This meant you got to sit at your desk, closed off from the others. A sigh of relief came from your lips from the fact that any necessary interactions with Jisung had not occurred. Your bag was on the floor, you sitting in your chair as you opened your laptop, connecting it with your desktop. It was somewhat annoying how long it took this ancient system to reboot. If anything you could fall asleep at the turtle pace. What did keep you awake, however, was the triple knock that came from the opposite of your door.

“Come in.”

Failing to turn around was a mistake, the familiar voice of your friend on the receiving end of your cold gesture.

“Hey Y/N,” Jisung mumbled, resulting in you turning around to face him. Fuck. He actually did his hair today. The gel pricked strands pushed up, exposing the bare skin that covered his forehead. Clothes looked together, a tank with the sleeves cut off. His shoulders had not been exposed like that for a while. Suddenly you were feeling hot, hastily grabbing the water in your bag,  sculling generously before actually acknowledging his presence with words.

“Jisung? Hey, how are you this morning?”

The sudden memory of your, well, activities last night flooded into your mind like an emergency tsunami; currently consuming all of your thoughts. You were unable to look at him straight. Was it him or was it you? Did he actually put in an effort, or did the lenses of your vision and how you perceive Jisung suddenly change? 

“I’m good. Uhm,” his voice was quiet, swaying his foot from side to side as he looked at the ground in front of him and not at you, “I just wanted to clear up something with you.”

Oh shit. This could literally be anything. But he did not look like his usual self. Jisung was far from the nervous type.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh uhm, just the like on your profile by accident. It wasn’t me. I was with some mates and I-”

“Oh,” you replied, tone oblivious, “you liked my photo? I didn’t see.”

“Oh,” his eyes widened, face turning red at his unnecessary admission, “yeah, I, nevermind.”

“Is that all today?”

Your smile was kind, wanting to make him feel comfortable. The tension between the two of you since yesterday was tense, wound up if you will. It still, however, did not need to get in between your work. 

“I wish, “ he chuckled, posture now upright and returning back to the man you know, “there’s a couple of drunk people on the beach. We want to kick them off but they won't leave unless they talk to a supervisor.” 

An excessive eye roll took over your vision. Drunk people on the beach were the worst. Just always taking it too far and a complete hassle to get rid off. He felt bad coming to you also, knowing that this was your least favorite thing to deal with.

“ For fucks sake,” you scoffed, getting up from your seat, “Australian’s are just bunch of fucking alcoholics.”

Without thought, you grabbed the yellow shirt out of your bag, practically ripping off your current attire, completely. You were too consumed by rage to realize that you were now bra and bikeshorts only. Jisung quickly turned the other way, even though he really did not want to.

“Right,” he mumbled, not wanting to interrupt your vigorous rant, “yeah, crazy stuff.”

“Like it’s midday and they’re already smashed? Go to your fucking 9-5.”

The current oblivion was a disaster for you, because once again, you failed to realize that Jisung was still in the room with you, and now creeping those perverted eyes back to your body. A frustrated hand ran through your own hair, pacing back and forth as words continued to be spewed a consistent string of curse words. He knew it really shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did. Mainly because half your tits were out and you were cursing back and forth, easy to fuel his desires of what you would sound like under him, on top of him. It didn’t matter, it was not what was important right now.

It felt like years of waiting for you to dress yourself, grab a walkie talkie and head out to the beach to confront these losers. Ah of course, there they were. Two quite large, muscular men laughing their heads off, sitting right next to the water: idiots. It was easily audible how drunk they were by the mass slurring of words when trying to converse.It wasn’t a difficult task to kick intoxicated people off of the beach, but you were reducing someone from being unable to swim any day of the week. Jisung followed you in pursuit, not wanting to take over his supervisor. You approached slowly, unsure how they were going to react to the news of being kicked off.

“Good afternoon gentleman, how are we doing today?”

The two said nothing, instead bursting with laughter at the sight of you.

“What seems to be the entertainment here guys?”

They smiled again, looking at each other before the one closest to the shore line spoke.

“You’re the supervisor are ya?”

“Yes I am.”

The two laughed, again. Great. Two misogynistic, drunk pricks. Today was supposed to be the first day of relaxation, not even on active duty. But of course there had to be people that always made your job that more difficult. Jisung went to step forward, but you placed your hand on his chest, motioning that you’ve got this in the bag.

“Is there an issue with that?”

“We w-want to speak t-to a r-real s-”

“Well I’m all there is. My colleague has asked you nicely to please leave the beach as you are currently committing a crime or we will call the police and have you forcibly removed.”

It was the first time they had paid attention to you, the look of humor on their faces quickly dissipating, turning into anger. Their eyebrows were furrowed as they attempted to stand, swaying quite a bit before stepping closer, a poor strive at intimidation as they puffed their chests in an overbearing compensation of masculinity. Yes, they were much taller, and bigger, but they were certainly no match for you.

“You heard her,” Jisung grumbled, fitting in between the small gap between you and this hideous man, “leave or we will kick you off.”

“Wow you think you’re a tough guy huh,” he chuckled, now pressing his chest up against your fellow colleague. The last you wanted is for him to get into a fist fight with two very intoxicated individuals. You nudged him to the side once again, wanting to relieve some of the tension that was unfolding at this moment. You couldn’t help but let the small part of your mind admire the way he stood up for you. Like he would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat. Jisung really was the most urbane human you had the pleasure of meeting, so you would die if anything happened to him because of you.

“Let’s not be brash so we can all come to a single understanding.”

“Fuck that,” he scoffed, “we aren’t d-doing anything ill-iilegal.”

“Listen here buddy,” you growled, patience beginning to wear thin, “you are breaking the law by bringing a substance prohibited on the beach, as well as public intoxication, though I’m sure you’re not too capable of understanding a word I just said, did you?”

They said nothing, instead the quiet one pushing you into the water, head hitting the crushed up shells digging into the back of your head. The shore line washed over your face, eyes crippling with what felt like fire as the salt water took over your eyesight. Mumbled voices could be heard from the water. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes at the embarrassment and humiliation you felt at this current moment. The only thing you could concentrate on was the limbs, hands, fingers reaching out to lift you up, opening your eyes, you took the invitation, standing up next to them. Pulling out the walkie talkie, you pressed the button, speaking into it,

“Did you get that over?”

“Yup,” Hyunjin replied to the speaker, “the police have just arrived and are walking over to the two of you. Can you see them, over?”

“We can, thanks Hyunjin, over.” Luckily there were always people watching from the tower.

Jisung’s first concern was you, the police already over and standing in front of the two humans that you could barely call men. Jisung, seeing as you were a little bit out of it, eyes red from the acidity of the water, explained what happened. A police report would need to be filled out, but that was something that could be done later. Now wanting to interact or provoke them again, you fled the scene quickly, running back to your office and slamming the door behind you. Do not disturb the sign on the door. That sign was only used for when you were on conference calls or competing for confidential information about beach goers or staff. Today, however, was a cop out excuse to use it. 

A couple of tears choked you as you checked the back of your head in the mirror, making sure there were no lumps and cuts from the rough beach surface. It was one thing to be disrespected, it was another to be looked down on for who you are. It was always disheartening, and you don’t know if being a woman in a male dominated industry would ever get easier. 

A knock interrupted your feel sorry for yourself session, but you ignored it, not wanting to face any of your staff that all saw you fall flat on your ass. Your staff would never make fun of you for such a thing, but it did bruise your ego a little bit. The knock came again, followed by you continuing to ignore. It wasn’t until the knock was persistent, a small voice coming from the other side. 

You were thankful, however, that out of all the people that could be at your office door, it was Jisung. He stormed in, closing the door behind him. 

“Jisung I’m really busy I-”

“Shush,” he hissed, turning your chair in front of him, grabbing your arm, and sitting you down. He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs apart so he could scooch in between. A small torch appeared in the palm of his hands, the switch flicked and swiftly brought to your eyesight. Of course. A concussion test. Maybe it was just an excuse to be close to you. It didn’t matter, because Jisung’s closeness was something that you always craved, in any form.

“Jisung I don’t have concussion,” you sighed, “I’m not in the mood for fun antics.”

“I know but it sounded pretty hard when you fell. Look to the left, I wanted to make sure you were fine.”

It was unfair to be harsh to Jisung, especially when he was being caring and kind. He really didn’t need to do any of this. 

“I’m fine, just a little embarrassed,” you mumbled, causing Jisung to grab your chin with his thumb and index finger.

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

His face was close, eyes boring into you while he attempted to console you. The feeling of the room was the same as the one yesterday, when your phone fell to the floor. It had to be an invitation. It had to be a sign.

“I don’t?”

Your voice was soft, fear that it would crack and ruin what was becoming an intimate moment.

“Never. Those guys are the ones that should be embarrassed. You’re a great lifeguard. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

It was this moment, the brief seconds of silence in between Jisun’s last words, and the way he was looking at you, that you lunged forwards, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. The kiss was short, because you pulled away, coming to the realization that this was crazy. Your jaw dropped, arms withdrawing from and and the left hand covering your mouth.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry I-”

Jisung took the hand from your mouth that was covering your mumble. His smile was big, giddy almost, as he took you in again, this time his hands cupping each side of your face as he returned the first unrequited kiss, much more vigor applied to your lips. Eyes fluttering shut, Jisung glided his lips together with yours, things heating up at a rapid rate as his tongue begged for entrance. You complied, a soft groan releasing from your throat at how good his tongue felt. The sudden sensation of touch was  imminent to you. His hands on your face, the texture of them felt so strong, and what you could equate to this longing of closeness that you always desired towards him. Your arms came to his chest, scrunching the material and you brought his body closer, any part of him that you wanted you could get.

“Wait,” he mumbled, pulling away in a sudden movement of desperation, “I can’t do this.”

Your heart sank, face heated at the new level of humiliation you didn’t know was even possible. Was he really about to shatter your heart into a million pieces? Even if he did, you knew that you wouldn’t be that sad, purely because he would do it in a way that was so polite and gentle. Unlike you.

“Can’t do what?”

The guilt was eating him up alive. He knew he had to confess to his sinful desires before doing anything. It felt unfair any other way. He took a step back, standing up with his hands behind his back.

“I have to be honest with you.”

“Okay?”

“I, yesterday, after the locker room, when I ‘went home,’ I didn’t go home.”

Your wrinkles in your forehead became apparent at the confusion in what he was about to say.

“Okay?”

“Fuck, I noticed that you left the shower door open and well, fuck how do I even say this?”

“Just spit it out,” you mumbled. The anticipation was killing you inside.

“I was watching you.”

At first, a swipe of anger coursing through your veins. Why the fuck would Jisung, the well known individual for gentleman like behaviours would watch you shower. You stood up,chest on your hand as you subtly walked closer to him. His eyes went straight to the digits that lay along there. He couldn’t believe he was still doing this. Confessing to you his dirty secret while also still partaking in it at the same time.

“You were watching me shower?”

Fuck he couldn’t even look you in the eye now. Full shame taking over his body, every fiber of him. This was the most humiliating moment of his life.  You weren’t far behind however, because when your mind traveled back to last night’s shower, you weren’t exactly using it for showering purposes either. Oh my god. You had to find out what it was he actually saw.

“Yes. I watched you shower. I saw you, taking your shirt off, bikini, panties, all of it. The way the shower water trickled down your body, over those beautiful tits. I saw everything.”

The vulgarity of his words took you by surprise. It was never the way you had heard your friend speak. Part of you is surprised that he would take it that far; but part of you is not. There were multiple times that you had caught him staring at your chest. You were still speechless however, unsure if you should still ask, did he see everything? You could tell Jisung was getting nervous too, seeing as you had no reaction or slight verbal communication. Honestly, he was dying on the inside, and if you didn’t speak now, he might explode.

“Are you mad?”

His voice came out small, but honestly, you didn’t know if you were or not. Your gaze left his eyes for a moment, consumingly drifting down to his shorts. Surely he wasn’t hard from this conversation? Oh my god he was fucking hard. The tent in his pants was impossible to miss. You took a step closer, Jisung biting down on his bottom lips, eyes not moving a millimeter as he watched you come closer and closer.

“Y/n, please,” he whined, desperate to know your inner thoughts, “are you mad? I’m really sorry, if you want to fire me-”

“Fire you?”

He hated that he found your tone of voice so seductive right now. It just made his eyes want to flutter shut, listen to your voice like an ASMR video that he found deeply pleasurable. He knew that you noticed his cock tenting in his pants, but he didn’t care. It was already out in the open that he was perv, hiding it would just be a waste of energy. The more you looked at him, the quicker the anger or any negative emotion of that matter faded. It made you curious. Almost like testing the waters. Using some force, you took a wrist from behind his back, opening up the closed fist and hovering it over your pussy. His jaw was agape, but you could tell that’s not where he wanted to touch you most.

“I don’t want to fire you, and no I’m not mad, if anything, I’m kind of flattered.”

Once you placed his own hand over your shirt, it was game over. Jisung’s lips smashed against yours, tongue begging for access as soon as the two of you collided. Hand that was free digging into your hips on one side, hands already placed staying where it was as he walked you back, the curve of your ass soft hitting the front of your desk. Jisung’s hard on was rubbing against the side of your leg. Sitting atop of the desk and spreading your legs, you invited him to come in closer, now able to feel it against your rutting crotch. The ache was already far from dull, but it didn't matter. You wanted this to last as long as possible. The do not disturb sign was up, and the walls were mostly soundproof, so it really could be dragged out as long as you wanted, no softness needed.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, breaking away to breathe for a split moment, “your lips are so soft.” 

He continued to break away, spreading a multitude of kisses across your cheek, down your jawline, to your  ear lobe. The Jisung you knew before was already gone, and you could see from the darkness in his eyes that this was who he really was.

“Jisung,” you gasped in between, his teeth gently nibbling on the peachy skiing texture, “what happened? I thought you were such a gentleman?”

“That’s just a facade,” he whispers, licking a thick stripe of the side of your neck, “I’m anything but a gentleman, and now I'm going to show you me, the real me.”

His teeth dove into the easily accessible skin that met your neck and collarbone. A deep groan, one of shock , bellowed your throat, Jisung sucking in the most sensitive skin you had. He kept his hand firmly on your left tit, kneading and massaging it as much as he could without losing control of himself. If he had a dollar for everytime he thought about wanting to do this, he would never have to work again. It was something that constantly consumed his cognitions. Even his subconscious if he knew what was in there. Jisung was a filthy animal that had nothing but brain rot for you and your tits. He wasn't endeavoring it, like you had planned to yourself, but the impatience was growing. You swatted his hand away, lifting your arms and giving him the single to take it off. The noise was loud when it hit the concrete floor, still wet from the tow douchebags. But Jisung didn’t care. All he could focus on was that fact that this was the first time you were voluntarily exposing yourself to him. The guilt he once had was gone, and the fact that he was in a way being rewarded is what baffled his mind. His face let your shoulder, giving you a look.

“Wait, can you, do you have, it’s probably too much to ask.”

Your chest was heaving up and down, very fast, symbolic of the past couple of minutes before you could answer.

“Is this something you think about when you think of me?”

“Honestly, yeah. It’s your bikini top.”

“Oh,” you smirked, reaching underneath your desk and grabbing the desired item out of your bag, “you mean this?”

Jisung’s eyes lie up like a christmas tree as you gently unclasped your bra, watching the way it elegantly fell across your waist and to the floor. Jisung was much more fixated on covering yourself back up with the flimsy piece of fabric rather than your actual naked upper body itself. Once the material covered the front, you turned around, pointing to the strings from behind.

“Could you help me tie them up?”

Your voice was low, seductive, putting the man beside you in a trance, hands sliding up the sides of your body until they reached your upper back. His fingers were delicate, the feeling of his calloused palms removed as he tied the strings to each other, perfect bows in length and strength. Once he spun you back around, he pressed another sensual kiss to your lips, this time completely intending to completely devour you and your lips. It was working, because the longer his lips were lingeried, the stronger the throb between at your core. Jisung was already attractive enough as it was, but it hit you again like a ton of bricks. The way his lips, hands, body, his whole being worshiping the ground you walked on. The sweet mixture of his care and attention mixed with the saltiness of his perverted desires was making your mind spin, and he really hadn’t even done anything yet.

He pulled away, another smoke coating his lips as he looked at you with heavy lust.

“I was going to make you get on your knees, but you can sit on your chair if you like, wouldn't want those pretty knees to get bruised do we?”

“Use me however you want Jisung.”

You wanted to comply, partly because Jisung’s lust driven haze was controlling your mind, but also because it was nice to have someone take control for once. The last thing you wanted to do after a day of work was take care of more people. It was honestly a fantasy of being marched around, told what to do, and Jisung was about to fulfill this perfectly. 

It was his turn to undress himself, taking no time to undo the drawstring on his yellow shorts, swiftly removing boxers in one motion as he stood closer. The way his cock sprung free, like it was beginning to release almost made you drool. You opened your mouth automatically, assuming that you were going to have the delight of tasting him, but he had other plans. Jisung gave himself a few strokes of relief before lining himself up with your chest; ah, now you understand. Lifting your hands from your side, you pushed your tits together, the contact of his tip with your chest making you gasp. His cock slid very easily in the space created by your hands, Jisung’s head rolling back automatically once he moved back and forth. This would not have been something you thought about doing, but you’re glad that Jisung has these dirty ideas of his own, because you were moving every second. Taking one hand away from your chest you placed it at the base of his cock, making sure that all of his cock was receiving the love that was the sensation of your body, your touch.

“Oh my god,” Jisung growled, voice deep in thought, “I can’t believe how good this feels.”

“I’m glad,” you giggled, enjoying with much innocence this was affecting Jisung, “I bet you’ve thought about this many times.”

Your whole body was moving with each thrust, Jisung’s movements increasing with stamina the more he lost himself in the pleasurable feeling. 

“Wait,” you questioned, making him come to a halt. You pumped his cock, not wanting him to lose any sensation as you used your other hand to pull down your top, now completely exposing yourself to him. His head snapped and his eyes looked like they were almost about to cry at the sight. His hands went for the automatic grab, palms grazing the hardness of your nipples as he pushed them together himself, cock running back and forth the cleavage.

“Hmm, your hands,” you moaned, chair beginning to creak at how hard he was pumping his cock, “feel really good.”

“Shit,” he hissed, “I’m gonna cum if I don’t stop.”

But there was a cognitive dissonance with his words and his actions, because he didn’t stop. The position was somewhat awkward,but you didn't care, completely infatuated and aroused by how fixated Jisung was on your tits, and using your body to get himself off.

“You okay baby,” Jisung groaned, “am I hurting you?”

“No baby,” you cooed, a soft moan and the flicking of your left nipple, “feels really good.”

“I want you to feel really good though baby,” he leaned down, pressing another sensuous kiss to your lips, “want to make sure you know you’re all mine.”

Mine, the word made your heart flutter.

“Well,” you hummed, keeping a hand on the base of his cock as you stood up and out of your chair, “you have your fantasies, I have my own.”

Jisung was taken aback by your statement. He thought he was the only one that was dirty minded, clouded by lustful and devil crazed things he wanted to do to you.

“You do?”

“Of course,” you huffed, letting go of him and pushing by the chest back into your seat. He couldn’t help himself, gently gratifying himself with his hands as he observed you taking off your shorts, now damp panties following, leaving you completely nude. Jisung took his bottom lip between his teeth, noticing how sticky the insides of your thighs were.

“When I was showering, last night, you know when you were watching me?”

You smirked, so easily resulting in him being embarrassed once again.

“Ha ha,” he mocked, still stroking himself. He was shameless at this point.

“I was thinking about you, you know.”

“You were?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, taking a straddle seat on his lap, “exactly like you are now.”

His length pressing against the outside of your folds  a small moan leaked. This stickiness that was your arousal coating his shaft as you tenderly initiated the grind, pussy folds opening up and messing up his cock. The anticipation was killing you, as it was him, however, at the same time, it felt too good to stop, and you knew it wasn’t enough to make either of you cum in the moment.

“Yeah baby,” you whispered, a euphonious sound escaping your lips in between your words, “you’re not the only one that has a perverted mind.” 

And when Jisung smiled at your words, you knew that he was your person. He was you in the male form. It was disgustingly sexy how much of him being a sexual pervert for you turned you on, and you should feel ashamed, guilty for it. But the equally morally corrupt part of you loved it, thrived on it. You were so fucking dirty, and so was he, and it was something that you really fucking loved about him.

“Fuck, you’re so mine,” he chuckled, a deep growl to his voice as his hands stayed on your tits in any way shape and form. He went back to kneading, then using his mouth to suck on them, hard, pinching, flicking with his fingers. He was obsessed, and now he was worried that he needed to be touching them all the time; he was selfish and couldn’t help it. The use of mine, again, made your hips jump, the tip of his cock nudging at your clit, which singalled the moment that the tease, prolonged fest was over.

“Can I sit on your cock?”

He didn’t even take the time to reply, taking his hands off your tits for a split second, a hand guiding you to the tip of his cock, the other wanting a simple taste of you, dipping his index and middle finger taking an intense swipe from your hole, through your folds, and up to his tongue. Your breath became heavy at the extremely attractive behavior jisung was displaying. It helped speed up the process, hand on his base and you leisurely slid down his length, allowing yourself time to adjust to his girth. A simultaneous sigh of relief escaped both of your chests as he filled you up all the way, bottoming you out, before you rose again, yourself completely in charge of the pace. The start was slow, giving you the perfect amount of time in between thrusts to feel him buried deep inside your pussy.

“God you’re so wet,” Jisung scoffed, the sounds of squelching and skin slapping filling the room, “so tight too.”

Your hands were now wrapped around his neck once again, his hands on your tits as he did not massage them, letting them spring free and very, very thoroughly enjoying the bounce they showed as you rode him.

“Hmmmm,” you whined, unable to form a coherent sentence, “so good.”

“You like my cock baby?”

“Yes.” The mumble was low enough, but Jisung wanted to hear you. Wanted to hear how well his cock was making your crumble. How well he was filling your lustful desires. He needed the validation of knowing that he was doing a good job. It’s something he looked for when he did his job patrolling the beach. Even though he was just as experienced as you were. He valued you and your opinion that much, so this was very important to you.

“You’re doing such a good job riding me cock like that baby,” he chuckled, hand snaking up your back and around your neck as he brought you close for another deep, longing kiss. God, he just couldn’t get enough of you, and the feeling was mutual.

“I fucking love you cock Jisung,” you grunted, pulling away from his swollen lips, beginning to find it difficult to keep a consistent rhythm. He moaned at the way you said his name, beads of sweat forming on his forehead the longer the two of you sat there, inside of each other. Your head was on the verge of rolling back, the slight assistance of Jisung spanking your tit and completing the full action of your neck practically snapping back. Eyes screwed shut, solely concentrating on the small moans and string of cuss words escaping his lips as you brought your pace to a very slow rate, hips now in more of a rolling motion rather than straight up and down.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he spat, juices covering your tits now, the sight ver visually pleasing to him, “I die when you say my name like that.”

“Jisung,” you whined, “Jisung, baby, I want you.”

“You want me to fuck you princess?”

“Yes,” you huffed, almost out of breath.

“Tell me baby,” he cooed, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, “say it.”

“Fuck, please,” you begged, legs emerging into shaking as you became desperate for him, “please fuck me.”

“Hmm, okay, such a good girl for asking.”

Jisung’s hands reluctantly withdrew from your chest one last time, the pressure mounding on your hips as you forced you to a halt. Palms now moving to your hands, he stood up, legs wrapping around him without a thought to remain close to him. Another make out session has begun, and jisung had the smooth effort of walking you around, pinning you up against the wall. He kept you there, legs still wrapped around his torso as he began to move, however, an unforgiving pace was being set. It forces you to pull away, a face of shock yet desperation plastered across your facial features. This was impossible to last to, but maybe that was the point. Jisung was definitely sick of your antics at this point. Your chest eye level with his face as he leaned forward, moaning at the way your tits fell on his face with each thrust.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned, “I can’t handle it anymore.”

“Fuck I’m, I-” your voice cm out weak, slightly cracking at the last word, “I can’t hold it much longer.”

“That’s okay baby,” he puffed, practically out of breath at how hard he was working to please you, “just tell me when you’re cumming okay?”

You nodded, pussy beginning to unconsciously clench around his length. A high pitched moan escaped your lips as you felt the pit of your stomach reaching what you knew to be your peak. Jisung’s was becoming sloppy himself, not sure how much he can last, but the last place he wanted to finish, respectfully, was in you.

“Jisung please,” you cried, “I can't last any longer.”

“It’s okay baby,” he whispered, slowing his pace down to satisfy you, “cum for me.”

On cue, your body reacted in the exact way he wanted you to do, mouth wide open and eyes screwed shut as you came what felt like over and over. Jisung took you off the wall, soothingly hushing you and placing you on your desk, legs hanging on his shoulders as he allowed you to ride out your high. He, however, was on the verge too, and he was dying to ask you one thing.

“Y/n, baby, I need to bust,” he whines, making you giggle, “fuck.”

“You want to cum on my tits?”

He nodded vigorously, taking no time to pull out of you and pump himself with so much purpose. The loss of contact made you whimper, but you were easily distracted by the moans and groans that escaped his lips as the copious amount of white ropes were released, coating your, in his opinion, precious tits to a pulp. His waist shuddered, but nonetheless, Jisung was back to his gentleman self, carrying to your seat and getting the lucky tissue box on your desk, Jisung wiping the remnants of himself off your chest. You giggled at the motion, somewhat embarrassed at what had just occurred in the ‘professionalism’ of your work office. Jisung clothed himself first then grabbed your discarded items and helped you dress yourself. You had to stand, holding his hand as you stepped into your shorts and panties. 

Once the both of you were fully clothed, you pressed one more kiss to his lips, unable to rid yourself of the grin the was woven into your face. He followed, finally happy that he was able to get the girls of his dreams. Holding your hand, the two of you lingered, all of a sudden unable to look at each other.

“There’s something else that I lied about by the way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. That wasn’t my friend. It was me.”

[svngcore]

JEALOUSY

PAIRING :: bang chan x afab!reader

GENRE :: smut, pinch of angst (blink and you'll miss it), established relationship, porn with little plot

WORD COUNT :: 1.3k

WARNINGS :: soft pleasure dom!chan, over-stim, multiple orgasms, praise kink, light dumbification, hickeys/marking, crying. multiple positions, nicknames, my twist on possessive!chan >:)(?), let me know if i missed anything !

SYNOPSIS ::  "jealousy is fear that someone can take you from me and that's impossible."

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

"does that feel good, pretty?" chan purrs into your calf before kissing it, stroking slow and deep into your cunt and sighing out when you clench down on him again. "i can't believe you were jealous of that girl," he mutters with a small frown. the room is filled with the sound of chan's thighs lightly slapping against yours, your previous releases staining the sheets below you and sticking to his skin. his lower half is drenched in it, marking him and making him shiny under the moon's light.

he had you on your back 30 minutes ago, legs pressed to your chest as he stroked his cock between your folds and paid attention to your clit. he refused to slide inside you until you came twice, kissing you as you begged him to get on with it, and left hickeys and bite marks on your neck and collarbones. being trapped between him and the bed with your nipples rubbing against his chest as he moaned and sweet-talked you right in your ear had your head spinning.

he had your hands pinned above your head with one hand while his other hand pressed your hips into the mattress to keep you still. each glide of his cock made you shiver, your orgasm sneaking up on you right in the middle of his rambles. "there's a good girl," he groaned, watching you ride out your high. "cum for me some more, okay?" he said sweetly, kissing your cheek as you kept going, over-stimming your clit as he pressed down harder. this man was going to be the death of you. 

your second orgasm came when he slid into you with no warning in one thrust. you groaned so loudly, eyes rolling into the back of your head from being so full. chan moaned in surprise, not expecting to accidentally thrust inside you, forcing himself not to come as you clenched down on him. he leaned back on his haunches, moving his hands to one leg, and started to grind inside you to prolong your orgasm. 

minutes later, he has repositioned you onto your side. sliding one of your legs underneath him and holding one leg over his shoulder was the position you were currently in as you pressed your face into the sheets, moaning his name as he thrust deep into you before pulling out slowly. keeping the same torturous pace that was making you lose your mind. you throw your head back with a low whine as he grinds into you, making you gush and roll your eyes back. "that girl has nothing on you, i'd give you anything."

ah, yes. the reason you were currently getting your entire lower anatomy rearranged and couldn't remember your last name, let alone the first. you and chris had been invited out by your friends to some random house party, as it was the only weekend everyone's schedules properly aligned. getting all dressed up and pumped to go, taking pre-game shots with the group, you were excited for a nice night out. that went out the window about 2 hours in when some random girl decided to test her luck and try and hit on your long-term boyfriend.

she even went as far as to say that she didn't care that he was in a relationship as you were walking up to them and could very clearly hear them. chan immediately shut it down before you could say or do anything, but it still left a bad taste in your mouth and in a sour mood. you told chan the truth when he asked and he decided that it wasn't okay, so he took you home straight after. your friends were all smiles and teasing remarks about you two leaving early to go home. "they're leaving to do anything but sleep!" jisung laughed but ended up being so unequivocally right. 

you felt your mind melt out of your ears as chan kept the same pace, your cunt clenching up and you whimpering when his cock kisses your cervix. your body was kept in a state of perpetual sensitivity so that even the slight grind he did was enough to pull noises on you. "you sound so sweet when you’re cumming, baby." you whine at his words, feeling his tongue drag against the back of your calf as he stretched out your leg, biting it when he fills you back up.

"channie!" you practically squeal when his hand wanders down to your clit, just pressing down softly. "there we go, was wondering where my pretty girl's voice had gone. talk to me, baby?" you couldn't even get your thoughts straight enough to really speak to him, all you could do was whine his name over and over again. "i can feel your stomach starting to tense, do you want to cum again?" you furiously nod into the sheets, "yes, please pl-please channie-" you cut off into a whine.

chan slowly started to rub your clit into circles, matching the pace of his thrusts and sinking your body into more pleasure. "you don't have to beg me, lovely. cum whenever you want," chan encourages, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back when your orgasm rolls over you again. "love when this pussy when she cums around me," he groans out loud as your body trembles from your third orgasm.

chan finally starts to speed up in the middle of our orgasm, watching with low hooded eyes as he prolongs your body again. you don't know how much of this you can take. "ch- channie pl-please," you mewl, body unable to come down from your high. "no begging, i mean it," chan rasps breathily, hugging your leg as he starts to pound into your g-spot. your jaw drops open and you really squeal this time, taking a hand to push against his abdomen and the other to pull at the headboard to pull away.

chan immediately catches and stops his movements to grab at both of your hands, spreading you out and using your hands as leverage. "don't run from me, baby. I'm trying to remind you of something," he explains with a grunt as you try to tug away, tears welling in your eyes at the continued onslaught of pleasure to your body as he continues.

even at this angle, he does his best to aim for your g-spot and pound into it with nowhere for you to go. you mumble his name over and over, chan groaning when he sees a tear roll down your face as you moan out. "good girl. keep cumming for me, okay?" he purrs, groaning at how wet you are and turning his gaze to your gushing cunt.

"you have to understand something, sweets," he starts, slowing down to give you a reprieve after a couple of moments. "i don't like jealousy. it means you think someone can take me from you. that i'd leave you and this pretty pussy for someone else." your body shudders as he pulls out, only whimpering when you're flipped onto your stomach, a pillow stuffed under your hips.

you tense as you feel chan press against your entrance again, sliding in you slowly and pulling a groan from both of you, "as if i would ever leave, you are too precious to leave," he says into your ear as he settles in you. your hands claw at the sheets before chan grabs at them, holding them tightly. he kisses your cheek and forehead before resting his own in your hair, "gotta remind you that i'm yours, sweetheart. no one else's, channie promises," he softly promises before starting to thrust again.

you babble into the sheets below you, completely cock-drunk as he whispers, "i'll spoil you rotten if that means you'll believe me, honey."

all writing content created here belongs to @/svngcore, you are allowed to reblog my posts but please DO NOT repost any of my works on other platforms without permission.

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[tasteleeknow]

BETWEEN

PAIRING: minho + chan x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. f2l. roommates au. threesome/poly. CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. WORD COUNT: 5k

SUMMARY: Your two roommates are your best friends in the world. You’d also love nothing more than to be sandwiched between them. Queue tension and smut with feelings.

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

It’s laundry day, a day you’ve put off a little long. You end up grabbing a shirt from Minho’s clean clothing he’d left in the dryer to throw over your head as you wait for your own load to finish. Neither of them were around. You’re leaning over the counter to grab a paper towel when the front door opens. You peak around the corner just as Chris is throwing his shoes aside. Okay, this is fine. The shirt is just long enough to hang over the tops of your thighs, covering the pale blue underwear you’d slept in.

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[hwangyeonjun]

prompt: “now everyone’s going to know you’re mine”

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

warnings: smut, (un)protected sex, neck biting and marking, breaf mention of insecurities

word count: 563

2k followers celebration masterlist

jisung loves bragging. one of his biggest accomplishments aside becoming a kpop idol is getting you. he was tailing after you for a long time and when he finally got you, he promised himself to never let you go.

sometimes even literally, everywhere you go, he always has his arms on you, and at home, he just can’t get enough. you don’t mind, it’s nice knowing that you are wanted and loved.

but sometimes it gets too far for his own good. whenever he sees someone else talking to you, or making you laugh, jisung can’t help but get this uncomfortable feeling in his chest. many thought overflow his mind which leads to insecurity. though he never weighs those thoughts down on you, he’d never want this effecting you or your relationship and you are pretty oblivious of what’s happening in his head. actually you are so oblivious that the poor guy spent a whole week sulking over you rejecting him after he confessed that he likes you only for you to realise what he meant seven days later.

tonight though, he was voicing out his thoughts, or more accurately - showing them as he has you pinned against the bathroom wall. his hands are holding you by your thighs tightly while yours are wrapped around his shoulders holding on for dear life as he keeps ramming his cock into you.

“what are you doing to me” he grunted, lips brushing against your neck as he spoke.

you had your head thrown back, giving him access to your neck, your eyes tightly shut, unable to keep them open.

“i-i don’t know” you choked out, not knowing what exactly are you talking about but still feeling the need to answer.

“i think you do” jisung breathes out, thrusting his hips harsher, knocking the air out of you in the process. “you are a little minx, always so oblivious of everything but i know you. i know that you know”

before you could answer, he bites into your neck, making you gasp from the sudden pain. “i don’t” you meek out, digging your nails into his skin when you felt the knot in your stomach tightening.

jisung doesn’t answer, as he still focused on the spot on your neck that he bit just a few seconds before. he kisses it gently, before starting to suck on the spot as an idea popped in his head.

you were too focused on trying not to cum but the tingling feeling on your neck made it harder, the pleasure mixing together.

“jisung i- i want to cum” you whine, trying to pull him closer if that’s even possible.

you completely forgot about the party happening downstairs as jisung encouraged you to let it go, covering your mouth with his to quiet you down at least a little bit knowing you get really loud when you reach your orgasm.

after a few seconds of quick breathing, you opened your eyes to finally look at jisung, while he was already staring at your neck. remembering that he paid a lot of attention to your neck, you already knew what he was looking at. before you can voice your thoughts out, he opened his mouth to speak with a little smirk playing on his lips.

“now everyone’s going to know you’re mine” he muttered, while brusing his fingers through the bruise.

[sunboki]

“i don’t wanna.” you leaned your head back, exposing your neck that’s now being peppered with chris’s attention. he smells like cinnamon, lingering from his coffee run before you woke up.

it occurs to you this could take a lust-filled turn, but you’re not concerned—the minimal light that sneaks through the curtains is a good enough sign not to continue last nights affairs. too early.

instead, chris places a gentle hand on your back, easing you up from your position on the mattress to straddle his lap whilst he threads his bigger fingers with your own. all he wants to do recently, simply kiss your skin in the comfort of your shared bedroom. soft, gentle pecks or deep, passionate kisses that might leave a mark or two. no biting, at least, not unless he’s jealous. a rare occurrence, but it does show up occasionally.

you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive. but this day started off gentle, still tired from last night but not quite ready to get up.

“soft..” chris whispered, breath ghosting over a bare expanse of supple skin by your collarbone. admire. draped in his old t-shirt, hair askew. you look like an angel. plush and warm, his love.

you hummed out a mumbled “yeah?”, eyes dusting closed as you leaned in his partial embrace, head resting against your boyfriend’s chest. a steady heartbeat to drift away to. he wasn’t remotely phased by your sleepiness, easily titling his head to gain better access, access to places to kiss. obsessed.

“you smell like me,” he grumbled a satisfied tone, cheekily smiling when you shuddered from his attention just below your ear.

“‘s too early chris.. ‘m tired and sore…” you squirmed, sighing when he pressed warm hands against your achy hips, massaging the bruised skin.

this time though, instead of your body he landed a careful kiss on your lips, cherishing the sugar-sweet contact for a tad longer than usual, “‘wasn’t planning to, wouldn’t wanna hurt my pretty baby now would i?”

another lie would be to say your heart didn’t skip a beat.

coordinated the song aphrodite by RINI with this, along with some relation to my dream last night😵‍💫 basically soft mornings-after with channie, and dw my dream was sfw ahahiwbsisbwj dear lord

[pettypartypooper]

! han jisung fic recommendation ¡

s = smut , f = fluff , a = angst

drabble [s] by @planet-dusk

summary: dom!jisung

cinderella [f,s] by @j-0ne25 (as a part of christmas evel series)

word count: 6.2k

summary: after your father’s death you’re made to play your evil stepmother’s servant. your life seems overall helpless, until you find three magical hazelnuts

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[lvandrmoon-deactivated20230924]

— from eden

❝ all my life i've been heading for hell, but never had i thought i'd drag you down as well. ❞

synopsis: god created adam & eve… and then eve fell in love with the snake in her garden.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

genres: angst, smut, god!au, non idol!au, college!au, past lives, soul bonds

word count: 18.3k

warnings: 18+, religious themes/references, unprotected sex (practice safe sex pls), cheating, marking, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), light corruption kink (reader is a virgin), chan cums inside, slight major character death but he lives don’t worry!

m.list

playlist

a/n: the creation story is just a summary of the actual verse or wtv, but the adam & eve story is not the original. this fic's version of "God" is not the version of God that christians or other religions worship. it is simply my take on religion & spirituality. greek mythology and christianity are kind of intertwined here, but it is not a reflection of the actual religions or mythologies that the original stories are from, so with that being said, enjoy! & thank u @yeonjunszn for helping me & betaing for me 🫶🏻 love u (gay) and forever appreciate u. if u didn’t help i’m sure i would have died (real). also! new drinking game ! take a shot whenever Chan tells Cato to shut up!

❝all the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.❞

When God created the universe, he first created light. He separated the light from darkness and called them “Day” and “Night”. Then He made the sky, separating the water with a dome to keep it in two separate places. Then he made the sun and the stars, weaving his essence to light up his beautiful creation to help guide those who will soon live on it. Then He created animals, for both the sky and the water. He blessed them and told them to live in the sea and the sky, to fill the ocean and the earth with bustling cycles of life.

On the last day, he created humans. He created man and woman, and told them to have children so they may produce their own descendants to walk over earth and bring everything into their control. The first two humans he created were Adam and Eve.

He provided them with an abundance of fruits and grains for them to eat in a beautiful garden he called Eden.

In the garden of Eden, they were to fall in love and create many children. Adam was the first one to fall, and Eve pliantly went along with it. 

But, something in Eve felt… empty. Like Adam was not the one she was to be with. Adam was not the one she was to share this beautiful, vast, garden with. But, she wasn’t sure who she was to share this with. Eve knew she couldn’t delve much more into the unsettling pit in her stomach at the thought of her fate already sealed by Adam’s side, as it was not smart to defy God. 

“God knows best,” she would tell herself as she lay with Adam in the garden of Eden.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

I’m dying.

If the blood flowing around him wasn’t enough of a tell, or the way his sight blurs in and out. The heavy rain pelting against his dying body is a desperate, yet pathetic, attempt of the universe trying to save him and wash the red sticky liquid away. His breathing is shallow, hitched. He feels the urge to cry, to mourn the life he’s no longer going to be able to have. He was so close to reaching his goals too, and now they’re all washed up and ruined, like trash washing back up on the shores of beaches he visits. Or, in just a short while it’ll be visited.

“I’m sorry, m—” Chan chokes. “Mom. I did everything I could.”

Just as he is about to slip into eternal sleep, a bright light opens up in the sky. It’s blinding, and warm? 

Why is it so warm? Is this heaven?

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on his body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in the road. The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. His entire body relaxes, and he feels himself being pushed further into his body, into his own mind.

Is this really what dying feels like?

—

Chan wakes up in a hospital room. 

His body is aching, and his head is filled with an uncomfortable pressure. Breathing hurts, and he’s sure his ribs are broken. The machine that’s keeping track of his vitals beeps rhythmically, and he lets out a, albeit pained, sigh of relief at it. 

He looks up at the ceiling, like he was looking up towards the heavens and thanking whatever God was gracious enough to let him keep living. 

“Ah! You’re awake!” A voice says, cheerily. A woman in her late thirties is standing in the doorway. Her slick black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, a few strands falling into her face from being up for what Chan presumes to be hours. “I’m your nurse, Eunkyung. I’ll go grab the doctor.” Chan barely has the chance to respond before the nurse leaves, the sound of her shoes squeaking steadily quieting as she hurries down the hallway.

The doctor follows her into the room a few minutes later, inspecting his eyes and the nasty bruising around his ribcage. “Do you remember your name?”

“Bang Chan,” he answers. “Do you know how I got here?”

“You walked yourself here, do you not remember?” The doctor asks, bewilderment encasing his wrinkled face. “You were a sight to see. I don’t know what kind of God has your back but, you should have died last night. It’s quite literally a miracle.”

Chan’s head pounds at the doctor’s words, and he flinches. He pinches the bridge of his nose as an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“We’ll keep you here for another day or two to see how you’re feeling. Do you have any family we can call?”

“Oh, uh,” Chan looks down at his scraped hands, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I don’t. My emergency contact should be Seo Changbin, though.”

Changbin does make it up to the hospital that same night, with Han Jisung bounding in right behind him. Changbin and Jisung aren’t one to shy away from theatrics, so when they finally enter the room, the younger of the two is loudly shouting in distress as he practically launches himself onto the bed to lay with Chan. 

“Oh, my precious hyung! I can’t believe you almost died!” He wails out, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders and obnoxiously crying out, the sound of his faux wails echoing into the room and piercing Chan’s eardrums and racking his brain even more. 

“Ah, Sung. I love you, but please don’t yell. My head feels like it’s splitting.” He whines out, pinching the bridge of his nose once again. 

“Yeah, the doctor said you have a pretty nasty concussion,” Changbin says. Chan nods, trying his best to move his shoulders to shake the younger boy off, but to no avail. Han Jisung is glued to his side, no matter how much pain it’s bringing to his ribs, but he eventually decides to give up and relaxes in the younger’s hold. Before he can fully relax, though, boney knuckles are making contact with his bicep, which then makes him groan and lurch up, shooting more pain into his torso. He opens his eyes to see that the worry is wiped clean off Changbin’s features, and instead replaced with a feign look of anger. “You idiot! How could you get yourself hit by a car!” Chan flinches at the rising level in the man’s voice. 

“Did we forget that I said my head hurts?” Chan whines. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was crossing the street and then the next thing I know I’m laying in the middle of the road.”

“The doctor said you walked here,” Jisung says. “How did you even manage to do that, hyung?”

“Funny thing is, I don’t even remember doing it.”

— 

Chan’s discharged after three days, and given a stern order from Ms. Eunkyung to “take it easy” until his head fully clears. He chuckles to himself, because he knows he’s not exactly going to follow that order. 

Not if he wants food on the table. 

Speaking of food; his fridge is empty. Save for a stick of butter, a gallon of milk Chan is more than a hundred percent sure is expired, and a singular tomato staring at him pitifully. Even the tomato looks like it’s on its last leg, too. He cringes.

Suddenly, his head starts pounding again. He groans, shutting the fridge door and stumbling to his couch where he throws himself down on it. He lets out a pained whine as the pressure in his head builds, and he’s almost convinced his head is going to explode.

“Am I dying for real this time?” Chan whispers to himself. The pressure feels almost familiar, like how it did when he was dying because soon it’s encasing his entire body again and his eyes slip closed.

—

When Chan awakes again, he feels so far away, like he’s not fully in his body.

He must have taken a harder hit to the head than he thought. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone when he moved to his bed. He thinks maybe he should call Minho over to watch him in case he passes out like that again. Maybe he really is dying this time.

Fuck. This isn’t entirely how he wants to go out. Alone, in his shitty apartment with no one around, barely any food in the fridge and nothing to his name that can be tied to any sort of legacy.

Though, he isn’t surprised he’s dying this way. It’s just his luck.

“Can you stop thinking so loud?”

What the fuck.

That was his voice. But he’s sure he wasn’t talking. 

“Oh you mortals and your need to constantly think, think, think!” He feels his palm hit against his temple. 

What..

“You’re not dead, kid. Well, not until I leave this vessel,” He says… to himself. He sighs. “I’m a god. Gotta say, you decided to go and get yourself killed at just the perfect time too. I didn’t even have to find you.”

What?!

“Don’t yell! You echo in my head and it’s giving me a headache!” The god scoffs, rubbing at his temples. “I’ll explain it to you in a second I just…” just then, Chan’s stomach growls and the god groans. “I’m fucking starving. When’s the last time you ate? You mortals love treating your bodies like shit.”

I ate… Wait, what time is it?

“It’s the next morning,” the god responds. 

The next morning?!

“Yes! Gods, stop yelling!” Cato shrieks, gently knocking his fists on the top of his head in an attempt to quiet the human in their shared consciousness. “You were out for quite a while. I was convinced I completely shoved you out of your body. Just my luck I got someone who holds on, though. Tsk.” Chan watches as the god moves his body to sit up in his bed, swinging his legs over to firmly plant them on the ground. He groans, his body is sore and his joints are aching. Chan groans too, still able to feel everything. Just a little more dulled, but he still feels that incessant knot in his neck he’s never been able to get rid of. “You really let this thing get this rickety? How old are you?”

Twenty five.

“So young,” the god says, an almost mournful tone in his voice as he stretches his (their?) arms above his head. He walks out of the tiny bedroom and into the main apartment. “Cute place,” he chuckles. Chan doesn’t respond, as he watches the god look around the small apartment and take in everything. The god’s curious gaze lands on his stack of records, old vinyls he’s collected since he was about fourteen. “Nice collection.”

Thanks. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?

“After I feed myself,” the god quips. “So impatient.” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen. Chan doesn’t miss the grimace that paints across his face as the god stares at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

Don’t roll my eyes at me.

“I’m piloting this plane right now, so they’re my eyes.” The god snaps. 

Can you at least tell me your name?

“Cato,” the god responds as he opens the fridge. Cato lets out an indignant sound at the sight. The same stick of butter, expired milk, and pathetic tomato are glaring back at them once again. “You have no food, you useless man! How are we supposed to eat!”

I haven’t had the time to go grocery shopping. 

“How have you not died earlier?” Cato asks, sarcastically. 

You’re so not funny.

“It’s still a sensitive topic, I see,” Cato quirks his eyebrows. “Where can we get food?”

There’s a convenience store down the street I usually go to when I’m in between groceries.

“Is this your definition of in between groceries?”

Shut up. I’m a busy guy. 

Cato doesn’t respond as he goes and gets himself dressed. He pauses putting on the tee shirt he chose to look in the mirror the human has hanging on his wall. He’s bruised heavily on his torso and his face is scraped up. He and the god both grimace at the damage done to his body. “How did you even manage to do this?”

It’s not like I was playing chicken with the car. It just happened.

“You got hit? And they didn’t take you to the hospital?” Cato presses down on the bruise along his ribcage, which sends a sharp pain to crawl up his spine. Chan whimpers quietly in his head at the touch. Cato whimpers out loud. “That’s why I had to walk us there myself.”

That’s usually what entails in a hit and run. Stop touching it! That hurts. Wait – you were the one that took me to the hospital?

“Yeah. I was in a lot of pain… You can feel that?” Cato asks, eyebrow raised as he looks in the mirror. He presses on it again. Chan lets out a whine.

Yes. It hurts. A lot. My ribs are broken. I don’t know if you remember, but that’s what the doctor said. At the hospital. That you walked me to.

“You lost a lot of blood last night,” Cato says. “I don’t know how I managed to heal your cracked skull but not the bruises and your ribs. But also, this isn’t just your body you stupid mortal. It’s mine, too.” Chan sighs, annoyed.

Maybe they weren’t life threatening? 

“No, it’s not that,” Cato murmurs. He places a finger on his chin, eyebrows scrunched as he racks his brain (or, his borrowed brain) for an answer. His stomach growls again. “Oh, man. I can barely think. Food first, everything else later. Oh, and try not to talk to me. I don’t wanna look like a weirdo talking to myself on the street.”

You could just not respond out loud.

Go fuck yourself.

Walking to the convenience store was quick. The cold winds nip at Cato’s nose, painting it a delicate shade of red by the time he enters the store. The heat from inside the building wraps him in a hug, thawing his frozen nose and hands as he steps in almost instantly. The store itself is small, maybe four aisles at best with a line of freezers and fridges lining the back wall. There’s a table with a microwave and two two-seater tables next to it. 

Cute.

The old lady that owns it gives me a discount because I help her stock sometimes. 

That’s called a job. 

I don’t work here. 

But you do — whatever I’m not arguing with a stupid mortal. 

Didn’t know God can get hangry. 

I’m not “God”, I’m a God. Did you not hear me when I made that exact distinction when you woke up earlier?

I see I’ve hit a nerve.

It’s like if I called you an animal when you’re a human. It’s rude. 

To whom?

To me! And to the big man himself, but that’s not who we’re concerned about right now.

Sorry, God.

Are you not going to apologize to me?

No.

“Fucking mortals.” Cato whispers under his breath as he walks the aisles.

I heard that. 

You were meant to!

“Chan?” a soft, pretty voice speaks out from next to him. Cato whips his head to find a girl. She has a look of uncertainty on her face, but once she realizes it actually is who she thought, a bright smile paints across her angelic face. “Hey! Missed you in class yesterday.”

Cato stands there, shell shocked. His mouth drops open and he’s standing there, gawking at her for a full ten seconds. For some reason, after seeing this girl, a hole feels as if it’s torn open in his chest, where his heart should be. It’s painful. Raw, carnal pain shoots through his chest and it makes his eye twitch.

Answer her, idiot! Don’t make me look stupid!

“Oh!” Cato sounds out, plastering a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, you…”

Y/n. Her name is Y/n.

Y/n. Why does that sound so…familiar?

“Hey?” You say, confusion lacing your voice. The confusion is wiped away once your eyes settle on the scrapes along his jawline and eyebrow, concern replacing it instead. An attentive hand reaches up and carasses against his cheek, and both Cato and Chan have stopped breathing. They both can feel how their cheeks heat up at your touch. Cato has half a mind to flinch away, and he does. Your hand retracts immediately, your mouth pulling to the side in regret for accidentally hurting him. In truth, you didn’t touch him. But the heat of your hand so close to his skin felt as if it was burning. Your pretty eyes are filled to the brim with worry, and you ask, “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just took a pretty nasty fall last night,” Cato responds, sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “That's why I wasn’t in class yesterday. Had to go to the hospital and get my head checked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful! I’m glad you’re okay, though!” You respond, your bright smile coming back to your face, though it is tainted with worry still. “Since you missed class, we were partnered together for a project. Maybe we can meet and I can go over the notes and the project with you? Or I can just… send them to you.”

Tell her we can meet tonight. 

What happened to ‘taking it easy’?

Chan only laughs in response.

“I’m down to meet you tonight, if that’s okay.” Cato smiles down at you. 

“Yeah, for sure!” You chirp. “I’ll see you at your studio tonight, then? I get off work at seven!” 

Studio?

Y/n and I major in music production. 

“Cool, I’ll see you there.” Cato responds. You give him a wave goodbye, making your way up to the cashier to check out your things. Cato was so in shock he didn’t even notice you were carrying anything. 

His stomach growls. He groans quietly. 

For someone who had such a sense of urgency over eating, you sure are taking a long time to get something to eat. 

Will you shut the fuck up?

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door.❞

As Eve bore child after child for Adam, for the earth, that pit she so desperately tried to bury in her stomach grew bigger. More insistent. She watches as more and more of her children experience many things she didn’t get to; exploring, meeting, falling in love with who they choose and so on and so forth. 

As much as she hates to say it, let alone even let it into her heart, she resents her children. She resents Adam. She resents the life that the strings of fate have weaved for her, as she watches her children experience the freewill that God gifted them. Yet she and Adam are forced to simply be their means to an end, to push their future generations along so the human race may flourish. 

As she sits in the garden, weaving a crown of flowers and singing a song she does not think has been orchestrated yet, the stream she sits in front of singing quietly with her, a snake slithers up to her. It’s beautiful brown scales and equally as beautiful brown, slitted eyes glint etherally in the early morning sun. She extends a gentle hand towards it, its forked tongue stretching out to slide across her fingers curiously. She giggles at the ticklish sensation, watching with her own curiosity as he climbs up her forearm and upwards so its head rests gently against her naked shoulder. 

She goes back to weaving the stems, the soft melody she hums lulling the snake to sleep against her shoulder.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

So, I’m… your vessel?

“Correct,” Cato responds, watching the electric kettle impatiently. Cato had finally decided on food after you left, a bowl of ramen and a couple seaweed snack packages he managed to find in Chan’s desolate cabinet. Seriously, why doesn’t this guy have any sense of care for himself? “Every God and angel has a vessel on earth in case we need to come down.”

Can you just not come down in the way you look?

“No. Our heavenly form will drive an ordinary person insane,” the god lets out a small noise of glee once the kettle settles, indicating it’s finally done heating the water. Humans, as stupid as they can be sometimes (he’s looking at Chan, specifically), they sure have made quite a few amazing inventions. Just like this kettle. He’s absolutely enamored with it. “We originally weren’t supposed to have access to earth. We were just supposed to observe from the heavens.”

But?

“But, there’s just some things the Big Man dangles in front of you and you take the bait,” Cato pours the water in the bowl of ramen, watching as the spices he added immediately dissolve in the scolding liquid. He chuckles in amusement to himself as he recloses the paper lid, laying a pair of chopsticks over it to keep it closed. “Hey, how long should this sit for?”

Like two or three minutes. What do you mean by bait?

“A lot of god’s fell in love with mortals on earth,” Cato answers. “You ever read any Greek mythology stories? Apollo and Hyacinthus. Eros and Psyche. So on and so forth.”

I mean, yeah, but, I didn’t think they were real or anything.

“Oh, they’re definitely real,” the god chuckles. “Apollo and I are friends, actually.”

No way! So, like, is every God from every religion real, then?

“Yeah.” Cato shrugs. He takes the chopsticks off and rips the paper cover off of the bowl, excitedly using the chopsticks to stir the broth and noodles around.

So, why did you come to earth?

Cato pauses. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot, frozen in real time as he stares dumbfounded into the bowl of noodles. Why… Why did he come to earth?

Hello? Earth to Cato? Your food is gonna get cold.

“Oh, right,” Cato shakes his head to rid him of his internal struggle. “I… I don’t know why I came to earth. I don’t seem to remember.” He manages to make his way to Chan’s kitchen table, which is just a small round table with two rickety chairs in the corner of his living room.

So do vessels usually die before god’s possess them?

“No, not usually – ah! Fuck, that’s still hot,” Cato whines, sticking his burned tongue out and waving air onto it with his fingers. Chan’s laugh echoes in his head, and he makes an offended noise from the back of his throat as he continues fanning his tongue.

So, me dying the same time you came down was just… pure luck? 

“Yeah,” Cato makes sure to blow cold air onto the noodles this time. “I mean, lucky for me. Not so much for you.”

What’s gonna happen when you leave?

“You’ll probably die.”

But you healed me? Shouldn’t that stay when you leave?

Cato shrugs. “Don’t know. You’re technically not even supposed to be conscious like this, either. I’m supposed to have full control of your vessel if I possess it.” 

Comforting.

It’s silent after that. Cato is grateful Chan has stopped playing twenty questions. It gives Cato’s one track mind a way to fully focus on his food and not about the fact that he does not remember why he’s even here in the first place. But it’s not like he can just go back up to the heavens and ask someone. As annoying as he is, he quite likes the human that’s his vessel. It’s a shame that once the god is done on earth, Chan’s fatal wounds will most likely come back full force.

Cato hopes he’s able to leave fast enough to not have to witness it.

After Cato ate, Chan was insistent on switching when it came time for his meet with you later in the evening. It took a lot of bickering back and forth, but once Chan got it through the stubborn god’s head that you would know something was off with him (that didn’t have to do with his head injury) the second Cato opened his, in Chan’s words, “big dumb mouth”.

“Why do we have to pass out to switch?” Chan asks as he steps out of the shower. 

Do you always have this many questions? Gods, I feel like I’m speaking to a toddler. 

Chan copies his words in a silly voice, rolling his eyes as he does so. “Sue me for wanting to know how to work my body with someone else camping in it.” 

The way you said that just sounds so… weird. 

“And a god possessing a human body is just a regular Tuesday, right?” the human jokes. 

For us, yeah. 

“Shut the fuck up, Cato,” Chan chuckles, shaking his head in faux annoyance. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror and runs his fingers through his thick curls. For some reason his stomach is buzzing at the thought of being in his studio with you. 

Why are you so nervous to see y/n?

Chan’s cheeks heat up. “I’m not,” he mutters.

You know I can feel everything, right?

Chan doesn’t respond, too afraid that his voice might way to just how flustered he is. It’s true he finds you very attractive, and your personalities mesh well together. You both have a lot in common and since the day he met you he’s felt a weird, otherworldly pull towards you. “You said her name was familiar to you. Why?” Cato doesn’t respond for a minute, and Chan almost wonders if the god even heard him ask. “Cato?”

I… I don’t know. Just when you said it it just felt like deja vu for some reason. How long have you been friends?

“Since she started college,” Chan replies. “She’s like two years below me.”

Chan doesn’t miss the weird boulder that settles in his stomach. But for some reason, it feels distant. Like it’s not his boulder.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝apollo showed me the sun. told me not to fly too close or else i would be one with the people on the land.❞

The snake visited Eve in the garden everyday, in the same spot, resting its head on her naked shoulder as she weaved crown after crown of flowers every day, humming the same tune. It became a routine, and then it became something for Eve to look forward to. She finally had something for herself! Adam was out every day for most of it hunting so Eve spent a lot of time with this serpent. 

She couldn’t place her finger on why, but when she was alone, weaving her flowers, with the snake on her shoulder, she’d talk. Like word vomit, she vented about her unhappiness in the garden and her jealousy towards her children being able to explore the vast earth and experience things she will never have the privilege to. For she was cursed to stay here, day after day, weaving her flowers in the garden, and bearing more and more children for a man she felt absolutely nothing for. Even the garden, once vibrant and vast to Eve, was now growing dull and shrinking in on her. She feels trapped, she’d say. Her world was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

“Why me?” She asked the snake one day. “Why did I have to be the first one made? Why do I have to carry this responsibility? Why wasn’t I asked first? Where’s my freewill?” 

The snake nuzzles its head, like it was gesturing that it was listening to her. “I wish you were a person,” Eve whispered. “Maybe then I’d have someone who gets me.”

The serpent nuzzles its head again. Eve’s eyes well with hot tears. 

She’s so lonely. 

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

Chan is reeling. 

It’s hotter in his studio than usual. It’s definitely not because you’re alone with him in his studio and for some reason that’s making him more flustered than usual. Definitely not. He’s definitely not noticing the perfume you used, or the way your fingers flit over your laptop keys almost elegantly, the click of the keys echoing in his ears. He also most definitely was not looking at how your thighs look sitting in his extra chair, or how your dainty necklace falls on your neck, the charm brushing against the low collar of your tee shirt. 

You’re sweating profusely right now. Calm down, you pervert.

Shut up, Cato. I feel like I can barely breathe right now. 

Yeah, I know. That’s why I said calm down, pervert. Did you not hear me?

“Are you okay, Chan?” You ask him, concern washing over your pretty features as he tugs on the collar of his shirt for the fourth time in thirty seconds. “Do you want to cut this short and meet another day? You don’t look so good.” 

Chan all but stops breathing when your delicate hand reaches up and presses gently against his forehead. Your hand is cold, and it works to cool his heated skin almost immediately. His eyes fall close, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m okay,” he says, opening his eyes again and giving you a gentle smile. He watches as your cheeks flush the slightest bit. “Just needed a second is all.”

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” You say, closing your laptop as an excuse to not look at him for a second. Chan nods, and then it’s quiet for a minute. Neither of you know how to act around each other. Sure, you were friends but you weren’t best friends. Chan and you also never really hung out one on one; it was really always you, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung or anyone else in your classes. While he didn’t consider everyone to be his friends, always keeping to his close knit circle, he did know a lot of people, and those people also happened to know you. So it was never the right time to get know you by yourselves. “So… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” You puff your cheek out, shyly. Chan can’t help but let the smile stretch across his face.

“What’s there about me you wanna know?” He asks. Your cheeks flush again, and you scramble to keep your hands busy, opting to twirl your pen between your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “We’ve known each other for so long but I don’t think we’ve ever really had the chance to actually know each other.”

He nods. “You’re right,” he sucks in a breath, letting his gaze fall towards his desktop as he thinks of what to tell you. “Well, I was born in Australia.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you giggle. “You and Felix talk about it all the time. What’s it like there?”

“Hot,” he chuckles, shrugging. “It’s beautiful, really. All my family is still there so there’s… like this part of me that’s still there with them, if you get what I’m trying to say.” Chan lets out another breathy laugh, suddenly embarrassed. 

“I think I do,” you say, nodding your head. “Like a piece of you is missing because it’s back home?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Chan says. “I miss it sometimes.”

“I bet. It must have been hard moving here all by yourself.”

“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know, as much as Australia is my home, this is also home, you know? I love what I do and I’ve found my people. So it makes up for the part of me I left at home,” you both nod along to his words, small smiles shyly turning up your mouths. “What about you?”

“Well,” you sigh, still twiddling with the pen. Your leg starts shaking. “I’m from here.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Chan copies your words, which brings out a giggle from you. His heart lurches. 

I felt that. 

Shut up. 

“I don’t know, I…” you trail off, letting yourself think of what you wanna say. “My moms a school teacher and my dads a realtor, so we’re well off on my dad’s money. They’re kinda the… traditional, married at nineteen, had me at twenty, church every sunday, and have a certain plan for their daughter kind of people.”

“And?”

You shrug. “For the most part I went along with what they wanted me to do. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect boyfriend that I’ll one day have to marry and continue the cycle,” Chan doesn’t miss the way his eye twitches at the mention of a boyfriend. “But, I really rocked the boat when I said I wanted to go into music production.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s… Well they say it’s unrealistic,” you sigh. “I’ve always loved music, and when my perfect, middle class family life got to be too much pressure to uphold, it comforted me. I taught myself all the instruments I know.”

“Impressive.” He chuckles. 

“Right?” You giggle along with him. Chan decides he really likes that sound. “But, they expected me to almost go into something… I don’t know, easy? Something that will let me rely on Seojun when we eventually get married.” 

“Do you want to get married?” Chan asks, eyebrow raising a little. Your fingers stop twiddling with the pen and your leg goes still for just a second before it picks up again. 

“Honestly? No,” you say. “It’s just not something I feel like is for me. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with someone but I don’t need a piece of paper or an expensive ring to solidify that I love them and they love me.”

“How long have you been with Seojun?” Chan almost feels the bile that coats the man’s name as he says it. 

“Three years,” you answer. “My dad is business partners with his dad and we met at a company party and it just kind of… I don’t know, happened.” You shrug.

“Is he in college too?” You nod your head yes.

“He’s in finance,” you glance over at him. “He’s actually almost done. He’ll be working under his dad after he graduates. His dad is also paying for his real estate classes after he graduates so he can sell commercial properties.” 

It’s quiet again, and your leg is still shaking. Your face, now pointedly looking away from him, holds a sort of… loneliness. And almost a hint of regret for even saying what you did out loud. 

Don’t ask that. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan interrupts the heavy silence, and pointedly ignoring Cato’s warning. You hum, letting yourself look at him again. The loneliness he saw on your face floods your eyes. It’s almost overwhelming. “And you can tell me if I’ve crossed the line and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

Don’t ask that. 

“What is it?”

“Do you… like Seojun?” 

And you asked it. I cannot believe you.

Your face falls, but it doesn’t morph into anger like he thought it would. You don’t yell at him, or tell him to mind his business and storm out. He doesn’t know why he was expecting you to lash out at him like that, though. Call it anxiety, he guesses. Instead, that loneliness intensifies — if that was even possible. You’re quiet for a minute, almost like you were deciding to lie to him or if you were about to spill something he’s not sure he — or you — would know what to do with.

“He’s nice,” you settle on. “We don’t have that much in common, but he treats me well.” 

I don’t like that answer. 

Neither do I.

Chan only nods, though.

“Should we get back to it, then?” You ask, your mouth turned into a tight lipped smile. 

“Yeah.” He smiles.

You both delve into a rhythm of bouncing ideas off each other, and the building almost obsessively on the idea you both really like. Chan doesn’t know why he hasn’t worked with you before this, you’re so smart and your ideas are so unique and full of life. He can really see your love for music and the creative process behind making it. His heart flutters a bit at the thought that you both share this pure love for music in the same way.

“Do you wanna maybe meet again tomorrow?” You ask as you pack up your stuff. By the time you both decide to call it quits, it’s nearing one in the morning. He walks with you to your dorm, and he can’t help but smile shyly at the hopeful look in your angelic eyes. You're holding onto your tote bags strap that sits comfortably on your shoulder. He sees you shiver a little, and then only notices the pathetic little jacket you decided to wear despite it being less than forty degrees outside. He fights giving you his jacket. He would, normally without hesitation, but after learning you have a boyfriend he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries, no matter how cute he thinks you would look swimming in his hoodie.

Down boy, down.

Will you stop?

I’ll stop when you stop being such a male.

“We can go to the cafe on campus after class,” Chan suggests. You nod, giving him a bigger smile at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your eyes glint with excitement as you nod your head. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do.” He reassures you as you open the main door to your dorm and walk in. He waves to you from outside and then steps off the porch, walking down the lit walkway, unable to erase the smile from his face.

You like her.

“Shut up,” he sputters out. “She’s always been in my sights, and I always thought she was cute. We just never had the chance to bond like that before. Changbin or Jisung are always usually with us, or my other friends.”

Too bad she’s someone else’s.

Chan rolls his eyes. Quietly, though, he wonders what would have happened had he met you before you met Seojun. Would you be his? Would you be happier with him?

Cato heard those too.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝didn’t know my world was dark until you came.❞

Eve sits in her usual spot, weaving her flowers once more. It’s another day, but this time she’s by herself. The snake hasn’t showed up yet, but she hopes it's on its way now. She tries not to let herself get too upset over not having her usual companion today, but she can’t help it. This newfound routine of her weaving flowers and talking to the snake while he rested peacefully on her arm has brought her more happiness than anything else in the garden – even the entire world – could.

So when a day turns into two, and then turns into three, then seven, her mood worsens. Even Adam, as unobservant as he is, noticed her change in mood. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong though, of course he doesn’t. As much as he claims to love her, to cherish her with his entire earthly being and his heavenly soul, he never seems to notice her until he wants to bend her over in the grass and give her another baby. Or two. Or three.

On the eighth day, when Eve is back at her favorite spot, weaving flower stems, a frown on her lips, a man approaches from out of the brush. It’s a man she has never seen before, but he is beautiful. Chocolate brown eyes and pretty brown hair to match with them, he gives her a gentle smile. “Hi,” he says. “You might not recognize me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eve says, on guard. She’s covering her body, cautious. “You’re not one of my children. So who are you?”

“I– I’m the snake,” he says. “My name is Cato. I’m a god.”

“Cato,” Eve repeats, the name swirling around her tongue pleasantly. “That means all-knowing.”

“Yes.”

“So, why did you come to me as a snake and not as yourself, Cato?” She asks, sitting up straighter against the tree behind her. “Why not show yourself to me from the start instead of deceiving me?”

“Forgive me, my dear,” he bows his head in apology. “I did not have an earthly body, and my heavenly form would have scared you. I transformed myself into a snake to meet you, and until my earthly body was ready. I am sorry for tricking you.” His eyes, his beautiful eyes, shine with genuine regret.

“What do you want from me?” She asks.

“Forgive me if I sound weird,” he starts. “But I was there when God made you. You are so beautiful, I will never understand how he did not make you an angel. Alas, I fell for you. And then before I could say anything, he sent you down here with Adam. And I had no way of meeting you anymore.” 

“You…” she trails off. “Fell? For me?”

“Yes, my angel,” he says, walking closer and settling himself on his knees before her. “I fell for you. You have my heart. And if you let me, I would love to have yours.” The god takes her delicate hand into his, running his thumb over her knuckles. His hands engulf hers, long, spindly fingers holding hers with such love, such gentleness that she’s never felt from Adam’s rough, calloused hands. 

She finds her heart fluttering at his honey coated words.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

When Chan gets home from dropping you off at your dorm, he remembers to send you a quick text before he retires into bed. 

When he sleeps that night, he dreams. He dreams of him, in an earlier time, walking with you through a beautiful garden.

Your cream colored dress encases your body so elegantly, and the way you wore your hair out of your face yet still cascading down your back makes you look so… ethereal. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

He wakes up in the morning, confused. The sadness he felt within the dream stays with him as he gets ready for the day, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable, and he tries to get it to go away by saying to himself in the bathroom mirror, “it’s just a dream. Why are you so upset about it?”

Upset about what?

“Oh,” Chan says, startled by Cato’s questioning voice in his head. “Just… A weird dream. It’s nothing.”

Whatever you say, human.

Chan doesn’t respond, brushing his teeth in a tense, perturbed, silence.

—

Classes were dragging. He’s unable to fully pay attention to what his professors are saying because he can’t get the dream out of his head. Why did it feel so… real? And familiar? Like it's actually happened before? And the loneliness in your eyes from the dream matched the loneliness he saw in them last night when you were talking about Seojun. 

Your thinking is echoing and it’s annoying me. What was the dream about?

A nicer way of asking “what’s wrong” is just asking what’s wrong, you know.

Chan’s eyes roll, but he doesn’t do it himself.

Don’t roll my eyes for me, I’m the one in control right now.

Sorry, I just had to show you my annoyance somehow. 

This time, Chan does roll his eyes. 

“Hyung?” Minho whispers from next to him, tapping his pen against the older man’s forearm. “Are you okay? You keep rolling your eyes.”

Damn, were they that dramatic?

Roll your eyes quieter next time, idiot.

You’re the idiot.

“I’m okay,” Chan reassures quietly. “Just trying to keep them from falling shut.”

“Did you not get enough sleep again? Do I need to start coming over and knocking you out?” Minho balls his hand into a fist, and it takes everything in Chan to not laugh at his friends' antics. Before he can respond, though, their professor clears his throat in annoyance, giving them a glare from his spot in front of the lecture hall. They exchange embarrassed glances before going back to listening to the lecture. 

He quickly makes eye contact with you from a few seats in front of him, and he watches in amusement as you scramble to face completely forward, flustered that he caught you staring at him. He exhales a laugh at your antics, shaking his head slightly as he goes back to typing on his laptop.

Cute. 

Yeah.

After class ends, and Chan’s packing up his stuff, you walk up to him, your tote bag over your shoulder, giving him a shy smile.  “You ready?” 

Minho wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, and he tries not to notice how his cheeks flush at his younger friends' antics. “Yeah, let’s go,” he responds. He turns to Minho, who’s giving him a raised eyebrow. “See you around, Min.”

“Yeah,” the younger male responds. “Bye, y/n!” He waves her a goodbye, of which you copy quite excitedly. The corner of Chan’s lip turns up into a small smile at your antics towards the other male. He knows that out of their whole group, you seem to be closest with Minho and Hwang Hyunjin, always seeing you three together in passing. He wonders if you two will start getting closer, even after the project is finished. He hopes so. He doesn’t think he can go about just being casual to each other – especially after last night's conversation.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, causing him to shake his head a bit in response. 

Good going, idiot.

Shut up, Cato. As if you’ve done any better with her. Remember the convenience store?

This isn’t about me right now.

He fights rolling his eyes. “No reason,” he answers you. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

The cafe he took you to is the one right across the street from the building your class was held in. It used to be a house, now repurposed as a cafe, and it has the perfect homey feel to it to help you feel comfortable and relaxed as you picked a seat in one of the upstairs rooms that has a couple tables in each of them for a little more privacy. The morning sun is shining brightly into the window, and Chan can’t help but let out a small chuckle to himself as he watches the way you squint from the sun as you try and look out the window. “Should I close the blind?” He asks as he sits across from you, pushing your tea to your side. 

“No,” you say as you happily pick up the cup. You blow on your tea to cool it down, and Chan can’t help but let his smile grow at the way your cheeks puff out dramatically when you blow on the drink. “I like sunbathing. Minho’s cats and I will lay on our bellies together in front of the big windows in his living room.”

“I’d love to see that sometime,” he laughs out. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush and you giggle shyly in response. “I’m sure Min has a plethora of pictures of it.”

“Don’t tell him I told you but,” you start, taking a sip of your tea. “He joins us.”

“Somehow I really don’t doubt that.”

You fall into a rhythm once more over your project, and after a couple hours, you both decide to take a break. 

“So, are you seeing anyone?” You ask him out of nowhere, now sipping on a second cup of tea. Chan chokes on his coffee, but he quickly covers it up by clearing his throat.

Cato laughs. Nice one.

Shut the fuck up, Cato.

“No, I’m not,” Chan answers, taking a more cautious sip now. “I’ve never actually been in a serious relationship.”

“Oh?” you say, quizzically. “So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“No, I have.” He answers, his cheeks heating. He doesn’t understand why he’s so flustered with your questions, even if they did come out of nowhere. Well, he does understand why. He just doesn’t wanna say it out loud. 

They weren’t y/n, though, right, Channie boy?

Cato, I swear to God.

Don’t bring the Big Man into this.

“But?” You inquire.

“But,” he copies. “They just didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. “Why the sudden interest in my love life, y/n?” The teasing lilt to his voice causes you to stammer out, falling (rather cutely) over your words, trying your best to come up with a reason. Chan chuckles at the rattled expression on your face.

You know why she’s asking.

I don’t.

Don’t be stupid, Chan.

Chan fights a scoff at the god’s words, not wanting to give you the wrong impression. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to explain who’s camping in his consciousness with him without taking a trip to the nearest psych ward. 

‘Man claims God lives in him’ has been a headline I’ve seen too much in the time humans have existed.

I wonder why.

Before Chan can continue the conversation he has with you (more like redirect it so he doesn’t have to admit to his commitment issues), something – or someone – catches your attention from behind him. The way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and a flash of disdain that goes away as fast as it showed up cause Chan to turn around. A man is seating himself in the room across the hall, a blonde girl at his side as they laugh at something the man says. He turns back around to see that you’re still looking at them. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that’s Seojun,” you say. Chan’s stomach drops, turning back around at the exact time Seojun turns to look at the two of you. Something flashes across the other man’s face, but it’s gone before Chan can even fully register what it is.

Seojun turns to the blonde next to him, before he turns back and starts walking towards their table. Seojun is… wow, is he tall. And buff. Chan almost feels intimated.

Oh great, here comes the jolly green giant.

Chan has to force himself to not laugh at Cato’s comment as he turns back to you. You give him a weird face, which he decides to ignore.

Cato, please.

I’m just saying. Why is God so unfair when he makes you humans? He could have given Seojun’s extra height to you.

Stop it!

No one needs to be that tall is all I’m saying.

“What are you doing here, babe?” Seojun asks as he stands next to you at the table, a rushed lilt to his voice. Almost like he’S panicking. Chan watches your face as it drops, the tight lipped smile you give to your boyfriend is clear to no one but him. “Who’s this?”

“This is Chan,” you answer. “He’s my partner for a project.”

“Hey. I’m her boyfriend, Seojun,” the other man says, outstretching his hand for Chan to take. He does, giving it a firm shake and a quick head nod in greeting. “Though, I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”

Arrogant.

Tell me about it.

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty,” Chan responds, the snark in his voice subtle enough that it seems like a genuine compliment. “She said you were in finance.”

“Oh, yeah,” Seojun answers. “It’s gonna help out a lot, money wise. This girl right here wants a big wedding. Isn’t that right, babe?” 

Chan’s eye twitches as he looks to you for your response. Your smile is that of discomfort, tight lipped as you rigidly nod your head, not making eye contact with Chan.

“Who are you with?” You ask, changing the subject as you strain your neck to look into the next room. “Is that Aecha?”

Seojun’s face drops. “Oh, uh, no. That's my project partner,” he answers quickly. “We have a business plan due in a couple weeks so we’re meeting to get it done early.”

“Oh, okay,” you say simply. Your eyes stay on the girl in the other room, squinting a little in suspicion.“I didn’t know you had a project.”

“Yeah,” Seojun rubs his neck, almost nervously. “Well, I should get back to her. I’ll leave you two alone, now. Don’t forget about the dinner with our parents tomorrow.”

“How could I,” you mutter as he starts walking away. “I’ll see you later.”

Chan’s almost grateful that Seojun didn’t kiss you. It seems you look grateful he didn’t, too. He can’t help but notice the way your mood instantly sours after Seojun leaves, though you try not to show it too much. You give him a forced smile. “Shall we continue with our project then?” You ask him, your voice pitches higher towards the end, and Chan knows you’re uncomfortable.

I don’t like him.

Neither do I.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝i could die in your arms.❞

Eve is giggling.

She’s resting her head on the soft grass that encases her body, the edges of the blades tickling against her naked waist. Cato lays next to her, chuckling along with her. “So,” she starts as she sits up on her side, picking a flower from the field and rolling it between her fingers gently. “If your name means all-knowing… Does that mean you’re a god of knowledge?”

Cato quiets. Eerily quiet. In the short time Eve has known him as his humanly self, he is never short of words. He always has a story or a joke to tell, Eve wonders how his puny human lungs can even hold that much air for him to talk so much. So, for him to go as quiet as he did, she worries. 

“Did I say something to upset you?” she asks, her delicate fingers stopping its movements. He also sits up on his side, letting his long fingers brush through the front of her hair as a small smile encases his beautiful face. 

“No, my angel,” he responds. “You could never do anything to upset me,” his thumb swiped gently across her bottom lip, and then down her chin before his hand fell back to his side. Eve feels her face heat up. “I’m not the god of knowledge, as you might think. Actually… I’m a calamity god.”

Eve doesn’t respond. “Like… the flood? That kind of calamity?”

He nods. “I was ordered to flood the earth myself.”

“It killed everyone…” Eve whispers, widened eyes filled with tears. “Why?”

“God is…” Cato trails, unsure if he should continue. His eyes, so beautiful and such a deep color, cascade down to glare at the grass blades dancing in the wind, unbeknownst to them that a god is staring them down with a look of disdain on his expression. Eve can see the regret and the anger in his eyes as he stares down at the earth beneath them. Eve wishes she can rid him of the hatred he feels for himself.

He doesn’t have to say anything, though. Because Eve knows how God is. She knows how He is all too well. For she, too, has been forced to be things she does not wish to be, solely because the person who created her says so. Her own eyes well with tears. Tears of anger and sadness, for both her and Cato. She doesn’t think anyone on this damned planet will ever understand them the way they do each other.

“Did you want to?” She asks. Cato shakes his head.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he adds. “It’s what I was created for. To bring destruction.”

“I think you’re more than what you were meant for.” She says, a smile on her face. 

Eve doesn’t expect it, but the god starts crying. And as he cries, she cradles him in her arms, brushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You are good, Cato,” she whispers in his ear, letting her lips ghost gently against the shell of it. “It does not matter what you have done, you are good.”

She presses a gentle kiss to his temple as his wails echo in the garden.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

Chan doesn’t hear from you all weekend. You weren’t in class Friday morning, and you haven’t answered any of his messages since before your dinner with your parents. He hasn’t thought much of it. He assumed you had a late night on Thursday and just skipped class the next morning because you were nursing a hangover. 

“Hey, have you heard from y/n?” Minho asks him Monday afternoon, when their whole group is sitting at a table in the cafeteria. “I’m only asking because you two have been… close recently.”

His cheeks flush as he watches his other friends look at him with widened eyes and agape mouths. “Uh, no I haven’t. I was actually just gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Didn’t she have dinner with her parents on Thursday?” Jeongin asks. Chan nods in response. “Last I heard from her was when she was asking me which outfit was appropriate for the dinner, she didn’t seem like she wanted to go, though.”

“Yeah, she was texting our group chat during it and she wasn’t having a very good time. But she never usually does with her parents involved.” Hyunjin adds, taking a bite of his noodles. 

“What group chat? I didn’t get anything in our group chat,” Jisung whines, opening his phone to double check. 

“Me, y/n, Minho hyung and Felix all have a separate group chat together,” Hyunjin answers casually. “She was texting in there.”

Chan tunes them out as Jisung and Changbin start whining that they want a group chat with you, but all Chan can focus on is how you’ve gone completely silent since Wednesday. 

“Hey, hyung,” Felix says, getting the older man’s attention by waving his small hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about y/n. She’s okay. She goes ghost like this sometimes, especially after an event with her parents. She’ll come back around soon, she just needs to recharge.”

“Are you mad at her for not answering you?” Minho questions, eyebrow raised. The younger male looked as if he was waiting for Chan to answer the wrong way. 

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Chan shakes his head in response. “I was just worried. We’ve just… been talking a lot recently and I wasn’t sure if I did something to upset her or anything.”

“I don’t think you could ever do anything to upset her.” Felix mutters, and Chan watches in confusion as he and Hyunjin both share a knowing look with one another. Minho elbows Hyunjin in the ribs. 

It means she likes you, idiot. 

Do you know how to be nice?

Chan doesn’t get any response from you until Tuesday night. A simple “can i come over?” was all you sent him.

Now, he’s panickedly cleaning his apartment while he waits anxiously for you. 

Why don’t you clean like this on a normal day?

“Because,” Chan grunts as he scrubs at a particular stain in his bowl. “I’m a busy guy and don’t have time to keep up with things regularly.” 

Just as Cato is about to respond, there's a knock on the front door. Chan stops in his tracks, hurriedly rinsing the bowl and adding the last couple of dishes into one side of the sink to hide them as he runs to answer the door, clumsily drying his hands on his pants. When he opens the door, you’re standing there, glaring at the space where the door was a second ago. “Hey,” he says, which snaps you out of your trance to look up at him. 

“Hi,” you answer softly, smiling. Though it doesn’t match the defeated look in your eyes. “Can I come in?”

Chan nods, stepping aside as you walk into his apartment. He follows you to his couch, where you both sit on opposite ends. Your legs immediately go up, knees pressing against your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. You’re not making eye contact with Chan, and it makes his stomach hollow in anxiety. You look so sad it almost feels like it’s creeping into his bones, souring his mood and ramping up his anxiety as he sees you cave in on yourself from the other end of his couch. He watches as you bat away tears, rolling your eyes in annoyance as they fill your pretty eyes. 

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Chan asks softly, scooting himself closer to you. He crosses his legs on his couch and turns his body to you, giving you a softened, welcoming look. The hand that isn’t propping his head against the back of the couch is twitching on his legs to reach out, to hold yours to comfort you. But he doesn’t want to over step and make you uncomfortable. You don’t answer, seemingly falling back into a spaced out trance, if the unfocus in your eyes is anything to go by. He lets his finger gently rub against your shin to get your attention, and he watches as your eyes fill with tears once more as you look up at him. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip. “Just… wanted to see you.”

Chan doesn’t believe it, giving you a raised eyebrow. “Just to see me?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing. “I missed you is all,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him a small smile. “I got used to seeing you all the time now.”

Chan’s cheeks flush, and he tries not to let his smile get too dopey as his heart flutters at your words. 

Oh! You pathetic man. 

Stop. 

“How was the dinner with your parents?” Chan asks. You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your throat as you look away from him. “Was it bad?”

You’re quiet. You look as if you want to say something, the words on the tip of your tongue and threatening to spill over. But you hesitate. You’re biting your tongue as you contemplate your next words. It almost concerns him. 

“If I do something,” you start quietly. “Would you be mad?”

Chan’s eyebrows scrunch, his head tilting to the side in question. “What is it?”

“Can I try something?” Eve asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between Cato’s mouth and his pretty dark eyes. Cato nods, watching in nervous anticipation as Eve climbs over his lap, plush thighs on either side of his lips as she leans in and ghosts her lips against his. 

Cato catches her mouth in a soft, tender kiss. It raises goosebumps to their skin, and their heartbeats quicken. Eve’s belly erupts in butterflies, climbing up her throat and she lets out a small sound. Cato hands find home at her waist, the pads of his fingers indenting her skin as he squeezes gently.

You finally look at him, eyes flitting down the length of his face, stopping at his mouth before looking at him again. Your gaze flickers between his mouth and his eyes before you lean forward, your nose ghosting against his as your lips meet. Chan responds immediately, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.

It’s shy, yet so electric. The butterflies you feel in your stomach are intense, prickling up your back and making you light headed. It isn’t long before you're clamoring across the couch and into Chan’s lap. His hands slide down your waist before he wraps his arms around your back, caging you into his body. He keeps his mouth working against yours, and can’t help the way his cock jumps when your hips shift a little, pressing your clothed core against him. Your hands hold his face, your thumb brushing against the apples of his cheeks every once and a while. His heart swells at the noises you make as you shyly start to grind yourself down against him, wanting to feel him more and more against you.

Should you really be doing that?

Doing what?

Kissing someone who isn’t yours.

“Wait,” Chan says as he pulls back. He has to swallow the groan that’s threatening to escape his throat as he takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are red, lips swollen and spit slick. You already look so fucked out and all he’s done is kiss you. He feels like he’s going crazy. “What about Seojun?”

“What about Adam?” Cato asks Eve as he breaks away, his fingers rubbing circles on her hips. 

“It was never Seojun,” You respond, shaking your head. Your thumb swipes against his cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Chan.”

“It was never Adam,” Eve responds, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders. “I waited for you for so long, Cato.”

“Since the day I met you,” you continued, breathless. Somehow, your cheeks turn redder. He doesn’t think you could look more angelic than right now. “I’ve wanted you.”

“Since the day I came into existence,” Eve sighs out. Cato thinks she looks absolutely ethereal this way. “I’ve waited for you.”

Cato can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips as he leans up to kiss her again.

Chan doesn’t respond, only placing a hand at the back of your neck and pulling you back down to him. He kisses you again, this time a little more desperate, a little more aggressive. You whine, letting your lips fall open so his tongue can explore inside your mouth. Your mouths work in perfect sync with one another, a desperate, needy, rhythm that says more than any words in the English and Korean lexicon could ever say. He can’t explain the way he feels while he’s kissing you, but he feels as if clouds are filling his head.

His hands move back to your hips, helping you to grind down against his hardened cock, and he doesn’t miss the way your whines sound more and more breathy each time he moves you against him. “Have you ever had sex before?” He asks you.

“No,” you say. “No one’s ever touched me, either.”

“You mean, in the three years you’ve been with Seojun, he hasn’t fucked you once?” Chan asks, eyebrows furrowing and a sense of pride filling his chest. You shake your head. “Why?”

“I didn’t want him to.” You whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist as he stands up from his couch, carrying you into his bedroom and gently placing you atop his sheets. 

Cato lays her naked body gently on her back in the soft grass. She looks so pretty like this, some of hair still laying softly over her shoulders and the rest blending beautifully with the grass, eyes widened in curiosity. “I got you, my love,” he says in a gentle voice as he crawls over her. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He thinks this sight alone is enough to be painted and framed in a gallery. Eve, splayed out like this for him with her ruddy cheeks and widened eyes. It was a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

He kisses her again before letting his mouth move from her own to her cheek, jaw, then down her neck, biting softly on his way down. 

Chan unbuttons your jeans, and you help him with getting them off your legs and onto his floor. He takes off your shirt and bra next, leaving you only in your underwear. He crawls over you, his thigh slotting in between your legs and ghosting against your clothed cunt. “Let me take care of you, my love.” 

He kisses your lips once more before he places a kiss on your cheek, then along your jaw, then down the expense of your neck, leaving pretty purple marks along the way. He stops at your breasts, ghosting his mouth around one nipple before taking it into his mouth. His free hand comes to tweak the other, softly pinching and rubbing along the top of it while his mouth works at the other. Your hand weaves its way into his soft curls, pushing them off his forehead so you can see what he’s doing better. He almost moans at the feeling of your hips bucking up to slide your cunt against his thigh. 

“Just like that, angel,” he mutters against your skin. You whine, your fingers almost kneading the top of his head. He presses his thigh more into your core, giving you more friction that makes your sensitive body jolt and your breath hitch.

He doesn’t stay long at your breasts, opting to let his kisses and marks trail down your torso, right to your hips. He settles onto his stomach, hands holding the under part of your hips as he takes in the sight of your cunt. A wet patch has soaked through your underwear, sticking to your lips and outlining the shape of you. He presses a gentle kiss against the wet patch, and he doesn’t miss the way your hips jolt back. “Chan,” You whine. 

“Yes?” He coos, freeing a hand from under you and letting his pointer finger gently ghost along your cunt. You wiggle your hips, trying to get more pressure from his finger but he pulls it away. “You have to tell me what you want, angel. Wiggling your hips isn’t gonna help me know what you want.”

He watches in adoration as your cheeks flush yet again, your eyes darting to look everywhere but at him as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “Please, touch me.” Your words come out so breathy, so desperate, it makes Chan’s head want to explode. He gives you a smile.

“Anything for you, my love,” he responds before he sits back up on his knees, letting his fingers grab ahold of the waistband of your panties and sliding them slowly down your legs with your help. They fall somewhere on the edge of the bed behind him, but it’s not something he’s concerned about as the musky smell of your cunt hits his nose again as he lays back down. Your cunt glistens so prettily for him, and he forces himself to hold in a moan. “You’re so pretty.” 

His fingers slide up and down between your swollen lips, and you let out small whines whenever his fingers rub a teasing circle against your clit that’s peeking out between your slit. He kisses along your inner thighs, across your mound as he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance. 

Cato kisses along Eve’s thighs, before he gives a broad swipe of his tongue up the expense of her cunt. She gasps, hips twitching. “Has he ever done this to you?”

“No,” Eve sighs out as Cato gives another broad swipe. “He barely touches me.” Cato doesn’t respond, letting his tongue circle around Eve’s clit, which elicits a moan to fall from her pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry, my angel,” Cato says. “I’ll show you just how a man should love you.”

Your walls clench around his finger, and he places gentle kisses against your sensitive nub, whispering, “Relax, baby. I got you.” Your body deflates when you let out the breath you were holding, your own hand falling towards the hand that’s gripping onto your hip. You intertwine your fingers together, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze as he crooks his finger up into that spongy spot that has your back arching slightly and a gasp falling from your pretty lips. His mouth attaches itself to your clit, alternating between lightly sucking and feverish kitten licks. Your hand squeezes his as shy moans involuntarily fall from your lips at his ministrations. 

He feels his cock pulsing at each sound you let out, and he can’t help but grind his hips down onto the bed for some friction of his own. “Chan, more, please,” you whine out, bucking your hips into his face. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, scissoring you open as his mouth continues at your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance slowly, making sure to hook up when he plunges back in. You’re so tight around his fingers, and he can’t help but let out a moan at the thought of you taking his cock, sucking him into your warm walls. The fact that no one has ever touched you – not even your own boyfriend – and that he has the honor of being your first is driving him up a wall.

Only he gets to see you this way. Only he gets to hear your whiny moans, and only he gets to see the pretty way your body reacts to his touch. He can't help but let his fingers get a little faster, a little more prominent in the way they press against that sweet spot that has the coil tightening in the pit of your belly. “Chan.”

“You gonna cum, angel?” He asks against your pussy, keeping his steady yet harsh rhythm of his fingers plunging into your hole. You let out a hum as your response, and he can’t help but smile against your cunt. He keeps his mouth on your clit, his eyes rolling back as you let out another moan, your hips bucking to feel more, more, more. You clench around his fingers, your pretty sounds are strangled as your body clenches up, and that’s when he knows to remove his mouth from your clit, watching your face as your jaw slacks, and your body writhes so prettily under him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He slows his fingers, helping you ride out your high on his fingers. You feel so much more wet than before, and it takes every ounce of control Chan has to not dive back in and overstimulate you, drive you to another one. And another one. Until you’re spent and begging for him to stop, yet pushing him closer to continue.

Next time.

He moves up your body, and kisses you again. You let out a whine when you taste yourself on his tongue, your own essence covering your chin from his own as he licks into your mouth. You use your legs to redirect him, so his clothed cock lines up with your dripping pussy as he grinds his hips down against you. You shiver, still sensitive from just a second ago. “I want you,” you whisper. He pulls away, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Cause if you’re actually not ready, tell me. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ve waited for you long enough,” you answer, rutting your hips up against him. He sucks in a breath. “Please?”

Chan only nods as he climbs off you to discard his clothes to the floor. The bruising on his side hasn’t fully gone away, but it’s not as bad as it was last week. “Was that from your fall?” You ask him as he climbs over you again, your delicate fingers ghosting over his ribcage. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down at your hand. “I didn’t actually fall, though. I got hit by a car.” 

“I know.”

Chan gives you a double take, eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agape in confusion. You giggle and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You know?”

“Yeah, I was with Changbin and Jisung when he got the call,” you respond, still giggling. “I just figured you said you fell to not worry me.”

Yeah, we can go with that. Really I was just saving you the embarrassment. Who gets hit by cars these days?

Don’t ruin this, Cato. 

Chan only chuckles softly, his smile widening and crinkling his eyes in such a pretty way. You can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks to bring his face down with yours. He kisses you back quickly, letting you take the lead as he opens your legs and maneuvers himself so his cock can glide along your slit. You lift your legs more, letting the head of his cock catch along your entrance. “Please,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m ready.”

Chan moves a hand down to guide the tip of his cock into your entrance, and he goes slow as he sheathes himself inside. You tense up, the pressure a foreign feeling. “Relax,” he whispers, kissing along your cheek and down your jaw. A small whine leaves your mouth and he stills his hips immediately. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt it just… feels full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, letting himself move again. One his hips are touching yours, you can fully feel him snugly inside you. You feel so full, and it’s so overwhelming but so addictive at the same time. It feels as if you were molded to fit him. He gives an experimental movement, and your hands immediately go to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You can move.” He kisses you, distracting you as he pulls out and then plunges back in again. He keeps it at a slow rhythm at first, letting you get used to the feeling before he gradually starts speeding up. You were so tight around him, your velvety walls welcoming him in with each time the head of his cock ghosts along that spongy part that has the breath punched out of you again and again.

“You feel so good, angel,” he grunts against your neck. “Like you were made for me.” You can only choke out a moan in response, nails raking over his shoulders. He intertwines his fingers with yours above your head, and he digs his face further into your neck as he places wet kisses along it. 

Cato intertwined his fingers with Eve’s as he slowly moved his hips. “You’re mine?” Cato asked.

“Yours. I’m yours,” Eve gasped in response.“I love you.” Cato can only smile as he dips his head down to capture her lips in a messy kiss.

Chan keeps a steady pace, making sure to angle himself upwards when he thrusts back in. He hits deep, stretching you around his cock and every time he’s at the hilt, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. The breathy moans you let out at each thrust sends Chan deeper and deeper into the clouds, mind hazy and senses full of you. You’re everywhere, it seems, encasing his body in yours as the whole world melts away. He about loses his hold on himself when your quivering walls start clenching around him, greedily sucking him back in. His thrusts speed up, his one hand letting go of yours and finding home under your head, a fist full of hair as he brings your body as close to his as possible. The feel of your breasts pressing against his chest grounds him a bit, and he lets out a strained moan from the back of his throat.

“Cum in me,” you manage to say in between strangled sounds. “I want it, please.”

“Just a little more,” Chan grunts out. “Almost there. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, angel.”

Chan’s hips still, his cum shooting into you and painting your walls. He moans, whiney, as he shoves his face back into your neck. Your hands move to his hair, raking through it as you whisper in his ear. “I love you.”

Chan smiles. “I love you, too.”

—

You spend the night at Chan’s house, only sending a simple message to your group chat with Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix where you were staying and that you were okay. Your simple message respectively blows up the group chat, with Felix and Hyunjin practically screaming to tell them details, and then Minho crashing into your world like a meteor with one single question.

Did you break up with Seojun?

You decided not to answer that question (because you haven’t), only texting back that you’ll explain when you get back to class on Friday and then shakily put your phone down on the coffee table. You look over towards the kitchen to see Chan’s back towards you, the sizzling of the food in the pan the only sound filling the apartment. You can’t help but smile at the sight. You uncross your legs from the couch, walking into the kitchen area and standing behind Chan. Your arms wrap lovingly around his waist, your cheek pressing into his back and you feel his body relax into your hold. He turns down the stove and turns around in your hold, a smile adorning his features as he places a kiss against your lips.

“Thanks for letting me stay last night,” you say as he pulls away from you. “I didn’t want to face Ryujin’s interrogation yet.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to face mine,” Chan says, raising his eyebrow at you. You smile sheepishly at him, your gaze tearing away from his. He lifts your chin up, forcing you to keep eye contact. “What happened?”

You sigh, pulling your body away. You run your hand over your face as you lean against the counter behind you. Chan does the same on the opposite side, giving you an expectant look as he waits for you to start talking. “I found out Seojun was cheating on me. At the dinner.” You say, voice a little shaky.

Chan pauses, and his stomach drops. Seojun was cheating?

Don’t act as if you aren’t happy to hear that. 

I’m not happy! That’s awful!

You know what I mean, you idiot. You’re happy he’s out of the way now.

Chan doesn’t respond to Cato, focusing his attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n,” he responds, his arm stretching over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that.”

You take in a breath. “Yeah, well,” you shrug. “It happens. Sad thing is, I can’t even say I’m surprised. Looking back, it makes a lot of sense.”

Chan’s eyebrow furrows. “Did… you break up with him?”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I… haven’t yet.” 

And you slept with her. 

“You… You haven’t?” He asks, confusion painting across his face. “Why?”

“I— I was going to,” you start. “I just… I wanted to see you first,”

“y/n,” Chan says, voice shaky. “Am I a rebound?”

You shake your head vigorously, your own eyes shining with unshed tears. “No! No, I really wasn’t planning on last night happening at all. I wanted to break up with him first but I just… I don’t know, I had to see you first.”

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks. “About wanting to be with me as long as you said?” 

“Yes,” you nod. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Hyunjin or Felix. Even Minho. They know how I feel about you.”

Chan’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think. On one hand, the selfish hand, he’s over the moon he had you in his bed last night, and he’s still a bit drunk off your words from last night. But, on the other hand, he wants to send you on your way, to give himself, and you, some space. He can’t believe he didn’t prod further about what you meant last night. He just assumed by your confession, you had already broken it off with Seojun.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably go.” 

“Call me when you break it off with Seojun, okay?” Chan finally says, nodding his head. His heart clenches as he sees a tear fall down your face. “We’ll talk about us after that.”

The silence that replaces the apartment after you leave is deafening. 

Chan?

“Not now, Cato,” Chan replies, shaking his head. He can feel a migraine coming on, his eyes becoming sore and sensitive to the bright lights of his kitchen. “Shit,” a pained whimper falls from his throat as he massages his eyes. “I think I need to call someone.” 

I remember why I came to Earth.

“Can it wait until later, please?” Chan winces, annoyance mixing with the pain in his voice. “My head is fucking splitting.”

Chan…

“Cato, for fucks sake, please!” He yells, which makes his head pound even more. “I can’t figure out your problem right now.”

Cato doesn’t respond.

Chan calls Minho, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea, but he knew Jisung and Changbin would be loud and dramatic and he really didn’t want that right now. Minho is quiet, and he knows what to do when Chan is under the weather. 

The younger male is quick to arrive, immediately shoving pain pills into Chan’s hand and ordering him to take them. “Were you making something?” Minho asks as he points to the pan. 

“Oh, yeah,” Chan said from the couch. His head feels as if it can explode. “I was making y/n and I breakfast when—” he stops himself, looking over through his lashes at the other man. 

“I already know,” Minho says. “So, where is she?”

“Uh, well,” Chan starts, having to take a second to will away the urge to vomit. “I slept with her…”

“And?”

“She never broke up with Seojun before we did.” Minho sighs, shaking his head as he joins the brunette on the couch. 

“I told her she needed to do that first,” Minho responds. “She’s just as impulsive as Han Jisung. Worse than Han Jisung, actually.”

Chan wants to chuckle, but his head is somehow getting worse. His body starts aching again, as if the bruises are coming back. And suddenly it hurts to breathe. “Min,” he grunts out. “Min, I think we need to go to the hospital.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Chan?

I feel like I’m fucking dying again. 

Chan collapses to the floor, and when Minho slides down with him does he notice the blood pooling and staining the rug underneath the older man’s head. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Hold on, hyung. I’m calling for help.”

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on Chan’s body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in his living room. He starts to panic, lungs starting to work overtime as Minho calls the emergency hotline from somewhere in the room.

Cato, what’s going on?

Your… Your injuries are coming back. 

A white, blinding light floods Chan’s vision from the ceiling, and he feels a pull from the light. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Cato?

I’m getting taken back, Chan.

Cato! Don’t leave me!

The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. He feels like a layer of his skin is being peeled away as the pressure in his head worsens, and Cato’s voice gets farther and farther away.

“Ca—” Chan tries to call out to him, but he passes out before he could.

I’m dying.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝took my breath from my open mouth, never known how it broke me down.❞

Cato and Eve snuck around under Adam’s nose after that fateful morning in the garden. Always meeting at the spot where they first met, making love to the song of the stream whenever they could. It felt different with Cato. It felt… good. Like lying with this man wasn’t a chore, but something she felt was their way of bonding. Connecting. She didn’t give a damn what God said. 

She was not made for Adam. She and the god, Cato, were weaved from the same essence that brought them life — a single soul split into two different beings. And by lying with him, it strengthened that. She was his, as he was hers. 

Cato was such a gentle lover, compared to Adam (if you could even call Adam a lover). Cato took her into his arms and worshiped her body as if she was a Goddess herself. The way his fingers indented her skin on her hips when his head was in between her thighs, lapping at her nectar, had her seeing stars. She found God in a lover, and the forbidden fruit tasted so sweet on her tongue.

Eve was happy.

That happiness didn't last long, though. And she was foolish to think it would.

She swore Adam went out to hunt that day, she saw him off. So, how he managed to find Eve at the stream hanging off a cock that wasn’t his, she’ll never know.

Adam told God right away.

Cato was ripped from her before she could even get to her knees. Before she could beg. She watched as a bright light encased Cato’s earthly body from the heavens, the light so blinding she’s forced to look to the ground if she still wished to keep her sight. She wailed that day, a mantra of inhuman, throat curdling sounds ripped from deep within her core as she punched her fists into the soil. 

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” She howled. Adam stood behind her, face stoic as he watched Eve mourn the loss of her lover. 

“It’s what you deserve,” Adam spits. “You’re lucky I’m gracious enough to let you live. Your pretty face would be one with stone if I was anyone else.”

Eve’s crying stopped then. The garden of Eden was silent, not even the stream was brave enough to sing. Everything was dead still, a simmering animosity burned brightly just under the surface of Eve’s plush skin. Adam’s stoicism fell as he caught the look on his wife’s face. 

It was that of pure, unadulterated rage.

“I should have strung you up to that tree when I had the chance.” The venom drips from her words and poisons Adam’s veins the second they hit him.

—

“You weren’t supposed to tempt Eve,” God’s commanding voice boomed across the heavens. Cato sat on his knees, wrists and ankles chained to the marble ground. Different god’s sat around, watching the serpent intently, curious as to what was to happen to him. “You weren’t even supposed to make yourself known to her.”

“I told you why I was going to Earth,” Cato responded, voice tired. “I told you I fell for someone.”

“And that person was not supposed to be Eve!” Thunder cracked angrily across the sky. Murmurs erupted among the other gods. “You have tainted her, driven her off her path to her purpose.”

“Her purpose?” Cato repeated, indignant. “Her purpose is to be a breeding cow for a man who can’t even bother to see her as his equal?”

“And you were equals?” God laughed, a bellowing, boom laugh at the lesser god’s foolishness. “You’re a god, Cato. A heavenly entity that simple mortals can barely fathom the concept of. And you think Eve and you are equals?”

“I love her.”

Whispers of “love her?” echo through the chamber. 

“She’s not yours to love!” God’s angry voice silenced the whispers, a tense stillness crushing Cato and pressing on his lungs. “You know I have to punish you.” 

“Punish me all you wish,” Cato spat. “It will never deter how I feel for Eve.”

“Oh, my sweet child, it will.”

— 

Cato wakes to cold biting at his skin. It’s so cold, so so cold. His eyes open to gray skies and heavy snow sprinkling along his cheeks. Snow covered trees line the horizon of his bleary vision, head pounding and body aching. He moves his fingers, feeling under the layer of snow and making way to the dead grass underneath. 

He’s on Earth.

He tries to sit up, but his chest is burning and he’s having a hard time moving his arms. He feels like his body is being held down by a cinder block, unable to move himself from his spot. 

“General Bang!” A voice shouts, muffled. He moves his head to find the voice, but a face comes into his line of vision as he looks right. “General Bang! You’re badly injured, don’t move. Wagon! I need a wagon!” 

“What happened?” Cato whispers out, and the man grabs one of his hands from the snow. “Who are you?”

“It’s Hwang!” the man yells. “Hwang Hyunjin, do you remember?” 

Cato wasn't able to respond as his eyes fell heavy and then closed.

When he awakes again, he is in a tent. He shoots up in a panic, looking around the space. A sharp pain shoots through his chest, making him groan and his elbows give out. “Hey, easy,” the same man says as he helps Cato lay back down. Hyunjin. His long black hair is tied up out of his face, a look of relief washing over it as he settles back down in the chair next to Cato’s cot. “You got a pretty nasty gash across your chest. It’s a miracle you didn’t die out there, Chan.”

“What do you mean?” He asks. 

“I mean a dozen other men died from the same wound,” Hyunjin responds. “Your guardian angel is really looking out for you.”

“What happened?”

“Did you hit your head? We’re in a war,” Hyunjin responds, his eyebrows furrowed. “This was the most brutal battle we’ve fought in three years. How hard did you hit your head?”

Chan’s memories of the past couple years flash in Cato’s mind – like a short synopsis of what his vessel has been up to before he took over. Cato realizes that at that moment, Chan was dead. Cato was the sole entity keeping this body alive.

But why?

“Pretty hard, I guess,” Cato chuckles in response. “Does that mean… we won?”

“You bet your ass we did,” a smirk spreads across the male’s mouth. “We lost a lot of good men out there, though. Not looking forward to letting their wives know they’re widows now,” Cato nods his head, his gaze flitting around the ceiling of the medical tent. Hyunjin nudges his arm again, a grin on his face. “Are you gonna go back to y/n?”

A pulse shoots throughout his entire body at the mention of your name, a sinking feeling in his stomach that’s accompanied by the racing of his heart. He only shrugs. “If she’ll have me.”

“I don’t think she’d have anyone else.”

—

The war ends, and the troops all come back home. And Cato finds himself in front of a beautiful castle. Memories of Chan courting you for years flash in his mind. He seemed to have really adored you. Cato feels a twinge in his heart at the thought that Chan will never be able to experience being with you. 

But, to Cato, you give him an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Like he already knew you. Like he already knew your body, your soul, like the back of his hand. So, when he visits you after three long years, and you were already taken by another man, his heart shatters. For Chan, and for another unknown reason he doesn’t think he’s ready to explore.

He still walks with you in the garden that day. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

Cato doesn’t respond, only letting his eyes flicker around your face, sadness overtaking his gaze. You both stare at one another, so close to each other. It’s quiet, between you two. Not tense, but not comfortable either.

His eyes widen in shock when you lean up to kiss his lips. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, letting his hands cup your cheeks. You pull away after a second though, tears pulling into your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… needed to know what it felt like to kiss you.”

You turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the garden with the taste of you still on his lips.

Cato is sentenced to live a life next to the reincarnation of Eve, always at his fingertips but never having the right to have her. Chan’s soul was with him for every single one. Each life is a punishment, a test. Each time he gives into his temptation of having Eve to himself, of dancing along that line with her, he is ripped from his mortal body and Chan’s own soul is torn with him. 

Chan dies every time.

Again. And again. And again. And again. For millennia, Cato is subjected to always losing Eve in the most brutal of ways just as he finally thinks he has her for himself. As soon as he lies with her, he is forced to leave her soon after.

He can never escape it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝i won’t die for love, but ever since i met you, you could have my heart and I would break it for you.❞

Cato sits on his knees in a desolate chamber. It’s deathly still, and eerily silent. The only sound is his breathing – which is slowed. His wrists, bound in enchanted steel cuffs, sit chained to the ground in front of where he sits on his knees. His hair lays on his shoulders, dirty and knotted. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here — it could be months. It could be centuries.

He doesn’t think he cares anymore.

Chan is dead. He has to be. There’s no way he managed to survive the way Cato was ripped out of him like that. He hasn’t survived it in any of the lifetimes Cato spent using his body. 

It was cruel — the way Cato and Chan are subjected to this, lifetime after lifetime, a never ending cycle of Chan losing his life before he can even turn thirty all because Cato fell for someone he had no business falling for. He grimaces to himself, shaking his head in defeat as he remembers the way Chan was crying out for him when he was ripped from his subconsciousness. 

“When are you ever going to learn?” A voice echoes in the chamber. God.

“I do not wish to speak of this.” Cato snaps.

“Don’t you wish to see how Chan is doing?” God asks, snapping his fingers. A gateway to Earth opens under Cato, and he watches in horror as medics work on his dying body in the middle of his living room floor. “He’s still holding on. For now.”

Cato looks away, clamping his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear to see Chan like that. Not when he knows he’s the cause of it.

Chan is going to die. Again.

“Please,” Cato whispers. “Please, kill me.”

“Kill you?” God repeats.

“Yes, fuck!” Cato spits, his shout echoing deafeningly throughout the empty chambers. The silence that refills the space is enough for the god to break, sobs racking through his body from where he is chained. “I can’t do this anymore. Let Chan live, and let me die. Please.”

God does not respond, only watching as the calamity god wails, a mixture of snot and tears pooling on the concrete from under them. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Is that what you truly want?”

Cato can only nod his head. “Chan’s life, for my mortality,” he responds, still crying. “I can’t keep watching him die.”

“You know that means he might not be reincarnated,” God says. “The only reason Chan is a living soul on earth was for you to use him as your vessel. He’s not needed after that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Cato shakes his head. “That’s a better outcome than having to die before twenty six every single time.”

“How do you wish to go?”

“Like Icarus,” he doesn’t hesitate to respond, finally looking up at his creator through his bangs. “I will fling myself into the sun.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

Walking away from Chan has to be the hardest thing you’ve done.

You genuinely weren’t planning on sleeping with him the night before. You don’t know what took over you. It just happened. That’s not to say you regret it, though. Because you don’t. While you’ve never slept with someone before, laying underneath Chan felt so… right. Even if it is wrong from a moral standpoint. But, it felt otherworldly. Not just because the sex was good, but you felt as if it was meant to happen. You and Chan were meant to happen. As cliche as it is, and you cringe thinking of it, you wholeheartedly believe you and Chan were written in the stars, destined to find each other in this life. And the next. Nothing has felt more clear than being with him, and you use that as courage to knock on Seojun’s door.

When he opens it, he’s still in his sleep clothes. “Did I wake you?” You ask, voice and face void of any emotion.

“Kinda,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I just came to say that I know you’re cheating on me,” you start. His eyes widen in quick panic, and he’s about to respond when you put your hand up to stop him as you shake your head. “I just want to tell you that we’re even. And it’s over.”

“You cheated on me?” Seojun repeats, indignation in his voice. “You fucking whore!”

“Yeah, save it, Seojun,” You scoff, shaking your head. “I already know about Aecha so you have no room to take a moral fucking high ground. Just nod and say okay and shut the door with what little dignity you have still intact.”

“Y/n?” A voice echoes from behind Seojun. His mother walks up behind him, a cup in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed. “Did you just say you cheated on my son? Do your parents know what you did?”

“I also said he cheated, too, so,” you shrug. Her mouth drops open, her face scrunching up in anger. It looks as if she’s about to scream at you before you continue, “I’ll leave your stuff with Aecha.”

You don’t let either of them speak as you turn around and walk down the stairs and out onto the street. You pull out your phone, about to call Chan and let him know you’re on your way back when Felix’s contact name pops up on your screen. You slide to answer, placing the phone against your ear. “I know what you’re gonna say, but I just broke up with Seojun and I’m–”

“You need to get to the hospital right now, y’n,” Felix cuts you off, his voice shaking. “Chan had an accident, and he might not make it.”

Your phone falls from your hand.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

God’s of all origins gather around in the chambers to witness Cato’s execution. Everyone is whispering anxiously amongst one another. One deity stands silent, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at where Cato is chained intently. His heart is heavy, having to watch his dearest friend kill himself in the worst way possible.

“Have you spoken to him yet, Apollo?” Artemis asks as she walks up behind him. “I’m sure he would love to see you one more time.”

“What am I to even say?” Apollo asks. “Nothing I say will change his mind, you know how stubborn he is, that bastard.”

“It still must hurt,” Artemis responds. “You’ve been in love with him since the day he was created. I know it must kill you to see the torture he’s gone through.”

“There is nothing I can do about it,” Apollo shakes his head. “I love him, but it hurts more to see him be thrown back to earth again and again. It’s better this way.”

“He will live on in your heart,” his sister assures, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But you don’t have to put yourself through the torture of seeing this.”

“After a millennia of divine punishment, Cato, god of calamity, has decided to take his life,” God’s booming voice echoes through the chamber, silencing everyone in an instant. “He will join Icarus in the deep sea below.”

Hushed whispers resound once again through the chambers, all of them having remembered watching the man’s wax wings melt from the flaming star and plummeting to his death in the never ending, and unforgiving seas. 

Cato does not look up at anyone, not even to God himself. He does not speak, nor does he try to beg for forgiveness. He’s tired. He’s so tired. 

God stands next to him, a hand on his shoulder as two angels unlock the shackles from his wrists and ankles. “Chan will wake up once you have hit the seas. You have my word.” Cato only nods in response.

And as he launches himself towards the sun, the burning heat of it burning at his skin and singing his feathered wings, he wails. He wails and screams, mourning his love for Eve and the time he’s spent being tortured with her almost in his grasp. Truly, he thinks death is better than being without her. The sun dries his tears, and it brings him a dark sense of comfort. And when his wings are all but ash, and he’s falling into awaiting waters, he smiles.

Apollo cries quietly as the god’s body is swallowed by the dark blue seas.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

Chan wakes up in a hospital room.

© lvandrmoon — all rights reserved. no reposting

[hyunsung]

HAN ‘IF I HAD TO SAY’ (221216) – FACECAM 

[strayngesparkyds]

♡ A Good Bad Day ♡

Author's note: thank you for 1.5k followers! This is a reupload (with edits) of one the most favourite fics I've ever written. It was written around the time Chan replied to the person who asked him to pin them to the wall to say "please" and the whole fandom went feral. I only incorporated that part at the end because I was already done with the fic for my lovely ♡ chanonie ♡ from my other blog, who is now my dear friend. Enjoy ♡

Characters: Chan x Y/N

Warnings: smut, minors dni. Unprotected sex, slight anxious scenes, loving and leaving scents, dirty talk, pet names: princess, baby, pussy eating, fingering, and a healthy appreciation of Chris' amazing big nose, Chan fucks you in his hoodie and he has a thing for your scent + leaving his scent on you like he's a fucking wolf. Lots of praising. Lots. Of. Praising. Dirty talk too.

Word count: 6.8k

All the people in your life are busy. To be fair, you are too, but the thought of burdening someone with your problems makes you grimace in annoyance with yourself. Especially at the thought of sharing your problems with your boyfriend, the certified-by-all-and-himself as the busiest individual in JYP. 

You’ve just had the lousiest day. First, it was when you forgot to turn on the charger, so your phone’s basically dead. And then of course you were late for class because alarms don’t work on dead phones, which in turn resulted in your professor making you answer all his questions throughout as compensation. You consider it public humiliation, especially because the introvert in you just hate having to talk in front of crowds and not to mention, his questions were fucking hard – you only got 1 correct out of the 7 questions he made you answer. 

Oh, one would think that’s the end of a lousy day but no, no, no. Once classes end, you finally check your social media only to be greeted with rumours of your very friendly boyfriend allegedly in a relationship with a very pretty and basically perfect female idol; hint: his best friend Sana. All because you lent her a hoodie that you forgot your boyfriend bought as a matching set for the both of you. 

Stupid y/n. Now you’re not only having a bad day but the PR team for Stray Kids and Twice, and not to mention Stray Kids and Twice themselves would probably be too. Good job, stupid brain. Way to go! 

If only you could be like Joey in his Dr. Drake Ramoray character and have a fucking brain transplant… how nice would that be? 

Because now you’re just stuck with this current brain that’s just so anxious, waiting for your boyfriend to come home, so you could apologise even when he reassured you multiple times that the little hoodie slip up happens and it’s not really a big issue because they have the best PR team when it comes to dating scandals. 

So, you do the only thing you can do, which is sit in front of the stand fan, on the floor and just watch the blades go round and round, round and round, round and round. Somehow this is the most therapeutic thing you can do right now, and if it doesn’t work, you’ll go and stare at the ten lava lamps Chan bought for you all because you mentioned to him that you like to see pretty jello-like lights. 

You really don’t know how you managed to snatch this man from every woman in this universe. But as much as you think you don’t deserve him, you’re one selfish girl who would never let him go. You would never in your right mind let this man go. Because no matter how much you mess up or how  much he does, he would always find a way to make it work. 

His understanding, although sometimes very anxious, nature is what makes the both of you work. And you want to always make it work. 

But your mind today is just filled with disappointment in yourself that you are even considering ending the relationship because Chan would be better without you, right? 

You're deep in your negative thoughts, the fan just becoming a prop in your mind rather than the distraction you badly needed. 

“The wheels in your head are moving just as fast as those blades, princess.” 

Chan’s voice startles you, making you jump in your sitting position, head nearly hitting the fan if it were not for Chan’s fast reflexes. He has a protective hand on your forehead, keeping you in place as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head. 

He plops himself onto the floor, legs spread in between you so that he could trap you in his embrace. 

“Chris,” you say, wanting to greet him properly but you can feel the heat of incoming tears coming up to your face, so you only trust yourself to say his name. 

“Hi, y/n, my pretty princess,” he says, and you can feel the smile in his words. Chan props his chin on your right shoulder, nose playfully nudging and rubbing your cheek. 

You whine, not feeling so pretty at the moment, especially not mentally. “I’m sorry, Chan,” you corak out, voice shaky, turning your head to look at your boyfriend who now has a worried look on his face. 

“I told you, baby. Everything’s okay. Especially because it’s not true. I’m not dating Sana, my best friend. I am dating y/n, the prettiest princess, my soulmate and my little hoodie stealer,” he reassures you, making you giggle a little at his last statement. 

“I didn’t mean to give her the hoodie,” you pout. “We were hanging out here and she was cold and I didn’t have other clean ones, so I gave it to her. I forgot how fans can be detectives, I should’ve been more careful,” you try to explain your side, wanting Chan to know that you really didn’t mean to cause such issues. 

“I know, pretty princess. I figured as much. But everything’s okay. It’s been taken care of,” he tells you, hand now wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Don’t worry, you trust your Channie, right? So, believe me when I say everything’s okay.” 

You nod timidly, your boyfriend’s reassuring words finally allow yourself to melt into his hold. 

“How long have you been on the floor, baby? Isn’t it cold?” Chan asks, voice laced with concern. With not much effort on his part, he slips an arm under your butt and with his other hand on your waist, he pulls you up from the floor for a brief moment as he crosses his legs and then softly places you on his lap, earning a surprised shriek from you. 

“Channie, you surprised me,” you him, pinching the non-existent fat on his arm. 

“Mmm, you love it,” the man chuckles, burying his head on the crook of your neck. “How’s your day, baby?” Chan asks like the best boyfriend that he is. 

You sigh, not knowing if you should really tell him or not. You know Chan appreciates honesty but wouldn’t push you if you didn’t want to talk about things. But his soft touch, rubbing softly on the side of your waist makes you want something else rather than talking. 

You haven’t had much alone time with him in a while. He’s been really busy, with the new album promotions and the preparations for the world tour. Chan does try to go to your apartment every night, except for when practice ends too late or when his creative juices either help him or mess with him in the studio. 

But times like this, you and him, sitting close together, being literally glued to the hip – this is rare. And you miss it. You miss him. 

“I missed you, Christopher,” you say in a whisper, neck turning to rest your forehead on his. You can see him smiling at your confession. 

“I missed you too, my princess. So so much,” he replies, his big palm resting on the side of your face, caressing softly. “How’s your day been, pretty girl?” he asks, knowing too well that it hasn’t been the best for you. You only post photos of the sky when you’re upset, despite your captions sounding cheerful and only praising how beautiful the sky looks. 

You sigh at his question. You should be the one asking him. Compared to yours, his life is pretty much a million times more hectic, more deserving of attention. 

“It’s been okay. Just not thrilled about causing a dating scandal between you and Sana,” you tell him, choosing to avoid talking about the other things that happened, which now you find miniscule in the presence of your boyfriend. 

“I told you, pretty girl. It’s okay. It’ll die down. It happens,” he says, placing a soft kiss on your nose. 

“I’m sorry, Channie,” you apologise once again, to which he makes a soft shushing sound, peppering more kisses on the side of your face. “How about you? How has your day been?” you ask. 

Chan does a little tsk sound at your question. “We always talk about me. I wanna know about your day. You know I love hearing your experiences just as much as you love hearing mine.”

“But it’s the same thing everyday for me.”

“Yet you always want to hear about what happens at the routine dance practices and vocal lessons.”

“They’re exciting!”

“Your classes and your thesis preparation presentations are exciting to me!” 

You whine at his reply. This cheeky man always knows how to get what he wants. 

“Well, today isn’t as exciting. Ready to hear it?” you huff, still feeling silly because you just know you would start crying when you tell him about your day. 

“Always ready for my princess,” he chuckles, giving you a slight nod. 

You take a deep breath, wanting to prepare yourself. You place the tip of your tongue on the roof of your mouth as preparation, in case you start tearing up. 

“Well, I forgot to turn on the power outlet for my charger, so my alarm.. It didn’t work.. And when I got to class, everyone stared, then my professor.. He.. he made me answer a lot of questions, but I can’t-” you tell him but your voice cracks when you try to tell him about the incident in class. 

You hate feeling stupid. You hate when you’re seen as stupid, especially in front of people. The anxious and humiliated feeling you felt when you couldn’t answer questions in front of a full lecture hall comes dawning back to you, and you can’t stop the tears from flowing. 

Chan panics a little at this. She must have had a really rough day, he thinks to himself. But this is good. Chan has always had to coax it out of you because you would always make sure he gets engrossed in telling you about his day. He’s glad you managed to tell him without much coaxing today, making him feel trusted. 

“Oh, princess. Slowly, slowly. You can do this,” he tells you, wanting you to finish your sentence. 

You take a deep breath, but the sobs won’t stop, so you just turn your body and straddle your boyfriend, wanting to just cling onto him and bury your face on his shoulder so he wouldn’t need to see your face. 

“My pretty princess, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he tells you, hands now on your hips as you straddle him, knowing how you need to be in his hold rather than have him try to make you talk. 

You continue sobbing, no longer feeling the need to suppress your emotions because you know Chan’s there with you. He’s there with you no matter how silly you think you’re being. 

So you sit there, on his lap, both on the floor as he rubs your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 

If you thought you were being silly for having these thoughts, you feel even sillier for thinking your boyfriend wouldn’t understand. 

Chan’s your safe space, just as you are his. 

♡♡♡♡♡

“There you go,” Chan says in a cheerful voice after he helps you wash your face. “My pretty girl, let me help put on your moisturizer,” he says in a sing-song voice, making you giggle. 

You don’t say no to that, somehow the feeling of wanting to be pampered is just too strong for you to push away. Not to mention how the little splashes of water has made Chan’s shirt cling onto his chiseled body makes you pray a little, so that he would want to initiate some intimacy today in the bedroom because you’re too shy to ask. 

“Got it,” Chan announces, jogging his way back to the bathroom after taking the moisturizer that you put in your school bag. His eyes are fixed on your smaller frame, looking so pretty in his shirt and that little pair of shorts that is covered by how big his shirt is on you. 

“Got it,” you repeat his words for no reason, reaching out your hand to get the moisturizer but he pulls away from you. 

“Nope, your boyfriend is going to put it on you,” he says, smiling. You giggle at his cuteness but agree anyway. 

“Okay but you need to be really thorough, need to massage the moisturizer properly, so it absorbs into my skin,” you tell him, redoing your tied up hair that’s getting loose. 

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he tells you but you know Chan’s also thinking about something else, something that’s not about applying the moisturizer on your face. 

You look at him, waiting, wanting to see how this pans out. But when Chan shakes his head a little, as if to break himself free from his thoughts, you frown a little. Luckily, Chan’s fast enough to catch it. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, secretly hoping you would say something that would eventually lead him to at least eating you out. But he doesn’t want to push it. He knows you’ve had a bad day and just really wants to make sure you’re comfortable and happy. 

“Nothing,” you tell him in a whisper, turning to the mirror and turning on the faucet to wash your hands even when it’s basically clean from the wash you just did not even 5 minutes ago. 

“Be honest with me, baby,” he tells you, engulfing you in a back hug. He feels a little guilty for being turned on at how much smaller you are compared to him but he can’t help it. He misses you. He misses getting to touch you. 

You just shake your head, not wanting him to hear your thoughts. It’s enough embarrassment for today. You’ve been honest with him about the rough day you had, you can save your dirty thoughts for another day. 

But what stuns you a little is when you feel something hard pressing against your backside. 

Chan’s hard. Chan’s hard. Chan’s hard and you’re very happy to know that. 

“How about you be honest on what’s happening in your pants there, Mr. Bang?” you tease him, giggling at your own sudden change of behaviour. He must really like seeing you in his shirt. 

Chan chuckles, pinching your side, making you yelp. “What’s wrong with the happenings in my pants, Miss y/l/n? I don’t suppose you want to check it out - or do you?” he teases, making your face flush. You can never get the upper hand with this man. He just knows how to make you putty in his hands. And the hardness pressing against your ass is not helping your case. 

“I don’t wanna force you to do anything, baby. I’m happy to get to spend time with you. And make you feel happy from your long day,” he tells you softly, detaching his lower side from yours but it only earns him a whine. 

Chan raises an eyebrow, smiling at how cute you’re being. 

“Or I can also make you happy… in other ways,” he cautiously adds, wanting to give you the other option that he, too, craves. 

You make eye contact with him in the mirror and your little nod, accompanied with a breathy and needy sounding “Yes, Chris,” is all Chan needs to hear before he leads you to the bed, moisturizer forgotten on the sink. 

You’ll have to wash up again after this anyway, so why bother, right?

♡♡♡♡♡

Chan has you sit on the edge of the bed, legs spread with your shorts already off, leaving you in his shirt and your white lacy panties. 

“Such a beautiful princess,” he praises you, on his knees, eyes raking your clothed body. God, he’s just so in love with you. And the contrast of his black shirt with your white panties just makes his cock throb with need to rip the clothes off of your body. 

But not yet. He wants to try something out with you tonight. 

“Tell me, princess. What do you want me to do?” he asks, knowing how shy you get. And you just whine at his instruction, making him chuckle. 

“Too shy? But look at you, already wet, soaking through the pretty panties you wore for me as an apology for giving someone the hoodie I bought for us,” he teases, pressing his forefinger onto the wet spot, making you squirm. 

“Channie,” you whine and moan out his name, feeling sensitive. You don’t really touch yourself, not being able to cum without having Chan tell you what to do. And him touching you just a little bit like this drives you crazy. 

“I’m here, baby. Just have to tell me what you need,” he tells you, tone soft and levelled, different from how needy you are. “You can do it, baby. My lovely princess can tell me what she needs, can’t she?” 

You try to nod, breath stuck at your throat. His finger feels so good pressing onto your clothed pussy, your mind getting fuzzy at how hot your body feels, wanting nothing but for your boyfriend to fuck your worries away. 

“Then tell me, princess. Only good little girls get treats, and I know you’re the best girl there is, the only girl for me,” he praises again, knowing how much you like it, and how much he himself loves it. You moan at the praise, feeling good at the thought of being the best girl for Chan, the only girl for him.

“You, want you,” you tell him, trying to spread your legs wider for him to get the hint, not that he doesn’t. 

“Pretty princess wants me? Hmm, maybe you want me here,” he says, touching your hand, “or here,” your thigh, “or here,” your lower lips.

“Anywhere, anywhere,” you tell him, desperate. You know so well he’s just teasing you because he knows it gets you so wet. And it’s apparent how this little chasing game of his is affecting you because you physically feel yourself getting wetter, your natural lubricant flowing in such a generous amount that you know Chan would have no problems impaling your needy hole with his thick cock. 

“Anywhere? I’m guessing my pretty princess also wants me here,” he says, fingers teasingly drumming over your clothed cunt. “Look at you, so pretty like this. I almost can’t get mad at how you let someone else wear the hoodie I bought for you,” he teases, earning another whine from you. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, small fingers raking through his curly locks, the fading blue only means he would be keeping his little promise to you of dyeing his hair black – a promise he made when you let him cum on your face and let him lick your face clean, which is totally worth it. 

“Mmm, I sleep in all the hoodies I give you because I know my princess likes to smell me. Why do you think they’re all a little stretched out?” Chan chuckles, knowing that he purposely keeps this information to himself just because he feels good doing these little things to make you happy without you knowing. But he thinks it’s time for you to know that because he only wants you to wear the clothes he specifically stretched out and make smell like himself. 

The revelation makes you whine in protest, wanting to call Sana right away so she would never use the hoodie again until the day she gives it back to you. 

“Jerked off in the new one I gave you too, so don’t give that one away to anyone,” he tells you, swiping your panties to the side, revealing your glistening cunt to him. “Oh my pretty princess. My pretty little princess with the prettiest pussy.” 

“Fuck, Chris, please,” you moan, mind filled with the thought of your boyfriend wearing the small hoodie that must have been really tight on his body, jerking off to the thought of you. Your man is full of surprises, and the dirty ones just make their way to your heart and cunt at the same time. 

“Look at you, all wet for me. So soft too,” Chan groans, giving an experimental swipe on your pussy lips, making you tug on his curly locks harder. 

“Chris!” you moan, feeling yourself getting so needy that you can just pull this man’s face and bury it in your cunt. 

“Patience, princess. Gotta admire this perfect pussy first, don’t I? Haven’t touched your princess parts for a while now, need to test if you still remember me,” he gives you a sly smile before snapping your panties back in place. 

“No, no, please,” you beg, not wanting Chan to leave you like this but the man just chuckles at your reaction. 

“Oh my sweet baby, I’m here. Channie’s here. Just need to take off your panties, yeah?” he smiles, getting up to give you a sweet kiss on the lips to calm you down. You melt into it, his lips moving against yours does indeed calm you down, making it really easy for Chan to take off your panties. 

“There we go,” Chan says, smiling against your lips as you feel his fingers spreading your pussy lips apart. 

“Let’s appreciate how wet you are before I lick it all up,” he tells you, crouching back down so he’s face to face with your cunt. “Fuck,” you hear him curse, making you shiver at how low his voice is and how you can feel his breath on your pussy. 

“Won’t you look at that, what a pretty pussy. You’re getting wetter, baby, look at you leaking on the sheets,” he teases and praises at the same time, making you whimper in shyness. 

“Don’t be shy, love. You just need to let me lick you up and then make you cum, so that you’ll be even wetter for my cock,” Chan says, eyes looking into yours. 

You nod, giving him a definite “Yes, please,” and Chan is not Chan if he doesn’t dive into your cunt like an eager puppy. 

“Fuck, oh fuck, Chris!” you moan, your elbows giving up on you when Chan starts licking, making you lay flat on your back, hand fisting the sheets as you let your boyfriend eat you out. 

Chan’s amazing with his tongue, as he is with everything else. But his tongue plus his nose nudging your clit just makes being eaten out a heavenly experience you can never say no to. And the fact that your boyfriend just loves slurping up your juices makes you feel like a real princess who’s being served on a platter for the hungry prince. 

Slurping sounds fill the room, Chan’s tongue licking you up nothing short of a man starved, every lick resulting in him trying to reach deeper into your hole, his only aim is to make you feel good. 

And God, you feel really good. 

The way he’s fucking his toungue into you, the way his nose rubs against your clit and sometimes when he’s being too eager, he gets messy and accidentally has his nose buried into your hole but it all feels fucking good that your whole body shakes. No more teasing Chan, this is just full blown hungry Chan who wants nothing but to pleasure his woman. 

Chan has his palms spreading you open because he knows his little princess gets so squirmy when he has his head down between her thighs, always trying to squeeze his head. He usually doesn’t mind it because his little princess is not that strong to crush his head – and to be honest he likes the dizziness that comes after being free of her thighs sandwiching his head, an euphoric feeling that not many enjoy – but he doesn’t want his ears to be blocked because that means he wouldn’t be able to hear your moans clearly. 

“Chris, oh, Chris, you’re so- so good!” 

“Oh God, ngh, I- Chan, Chris-!” 

“Ah, ah, ah Chan- fuck, you’re- God!” 

He loves hearing you all fucked out, not being able to even form coherent sentences because of how much you love him going down on you. Chan might be insecure about his big nose but he definitely knows how to make use of it when he’s licking your pussy clean. 

Chan pulls his face away and if you were looking at him right now, you would see your juices messy on his cheeks and chin, shining under the dim neon lights you bought to match Chan’s. But you weren’t because you couldn’t keep your head upright, couldn’t even force yourself to keep watching Chan giving you the head of your life because it feels too good, you nearly pass out from the pleasure. 

“Pretty princess, look at me,” Chan says and you open your eyes slowly, greeted with the sight of Chan who already has his shirt off. What a nice surprise. 

“You did so well, baby. So, so well. Letting me eat you out and giving me your sweet juices. You’re such a good princess,” he praises, making you pull your legs together to have some stimulation on your cunt. 

“I'm good princess," you breathe out, trying to catch your breath from Chan's heavenly tongue. 

Chan smiles as he looks at you, already fucked out without even having his cock. Oh how cuter and prettier would you be when he finally lets you enjoy his cock, lets you take his cock like the pillow princess that he loves. 

"You are. Such a good princess. The best princess," he coos at you, making you purr in delight.

“Doing so good for me. No more thinking you’re stupid, okay? You’re the smartest, most hardworking princess I know. Got it, love?” he adds, going up to face you, his big frame making you feel so small, so safe. 

You nod, eyes staring into his shiny ones. “Kiss. Need you,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear, needy enough for him to fulfill your wishes without a second thought. 

He kisses you again, lips molding into yours. The kiss is more passionate, the both of you needy for each other. And Chan channels all his love to you through the kiss, biting your lips just because he needs you to gasp, so he can taste your mouth with his tongue. 

And he does. His tongue dances with yours, making you taste yourself and eliciting soft gasping sounds from you. But gasps turn into moans when you feel Chan slowly pushing in a finger into your cunt while he continues to kiss you. 

Your hands automatically grips onto his shoulders, head thrown back, no longer kissing your boyfriend as you succumb into the heavenly feeling of his thick finger prodding into your hole. 

“Chan,” you moan, chest heaving, heavily breathing at the euphoric intrusion, trying to keep your eyes open because you know Chan loves it when you look at him as he fingers you. 

“There you go, princess. Taking my finger in so well, aren’t you?” he praises, pushing his middle finger in and out of you softly. 

“F-fuck,” you moan, more like a whimper. It feels too good. His finger reaches deeper than yours ever will and it’s been a while since he took his time with you like this, slowly fucking his finger in and out of your cunt. 

“Such a pretty girl with a cute little cunt,” he says, voice raspy, mind thinking of how good it would feel when he has you clenching around his cock. “Want another one? My princess wants another finger?” Chan asks, finger fucking into you faster. 

“Yes, yes, ano-another. P-please,” you stutter out your response, mind only filled with the thought of Chan’s fingers filling your hole. 

Chan smiles sweetly at your response but instead of giving you what you want, he takes out his finger. 

“Nggh, no, Channie,” you whine, nearly sobbing at the loss of something in your hole. But Chan just gives you a kiss to calm you down. 

“I need to get a good look at your cunt now, baby. Need to see how pretty your hole stretches around my fingers,” he tells you, kneeling on the bed so that he can see your body. 

Slowly, Chan inserts his forefinger and middle finger into your cunt, only to take them out again. He repeats this three times, all the while watching how pretty your hole tries to accommodate his fingers, and all the while listening to your pretty moans pleading him to do something. 

“Channie, channie, please, please no teasing,” you beg him, hips bucking to chase his withdrawing fingers only to get playful taps on your pussy lips. 

“But you get so wet and needy when I tease, princess,” he chuckles, continuing his light taps. “Don’t look at me like that, baby. My princess can handle a little more, can’t she?” Chan tells you softly but his tone does nothing to hide his devious act. 

This teasing man will get a taste of his own medicine now, you think to yourself. 

“I- I can. But- need you in me. Nee-need any part of you in me. Need to remind my princess parts who they belong- belong to, right?” you say, the little stutter goes unnoticed by Chan because now he’s just stunned at your sudden change of demeanour. 

Chan’s eyes glimmer with mischief and adoration, his naughty fingers stopping their little game and now changing it to another level, putting just his fingertips in and never more as you say those words. 

“Need to– need to have you now, Chris-Christopher,” you breathe, little fingers holding the edge of his shirt that you’re wearing and slowly dragging it up bit by bit. “You’ll take– take me, right? Make me– make me forget bout my day. Make me take your- your cock?” 

And that does it for Chan. He grips your hand, taking it away from your little striptease, leaving his shirt on your body but resting on the bunched up fabric on your chest, your underboobs showing. 

Without a word, he starts to finger fuck you. Hard and fast, as hard and as fast as your greedy cunt allows him. The squelching noises are even louder, paired with your pleasureful screams of his name and his grunts, his fingers relentless and your moans that fill the room just motivates him to make you cum like this. 

“That’s it, princess. Take my fingers, there you go, God, look at you,” he rasps. “You like this, you do, hmm? So pretty for me,” he keeps on praising, making you moan louder, your restricted hands make the only option for you to keep yourself grounded is to curl your toes onto the mattress, messing up the sheets even more. 

Your boyfriend is giving it to you hard. After all the teasing, you’re more than satisfied with the turn of events. Your hips keep bucking up because of how good your boyfriend’s fingers feel inside you, consistently nudging that sweet spot inside, always knowing how to curl and aim just right to make you see stars. 

“Chan, Chris, God please,” you moan, not even producing full sentences. Who are you kidding? You haven’t been talking coherently ever since your boyfriend touched you. 

“Can feel you clenching around my fingers, princess. You wanna cum for me?” 

“You do, don’t you. Babbling like a cute little baby. God, you’re so pretty like this.” 

“Already so fucked out from two fingers, you’re so precious. Such a precious princess with the cutest cunt.” 

“Cum and you’ll get my cock, princess.”

And that does it for you. The promise of Chan’s cock and the little rubbing of his thumb onto your clit makes you convulse around his fingers, making him chuckle at you lovingly. 

“Good girl, what a good girl. There you go, there you go,” Chan soothes you, slowly bringing you down from your high. But you need more, you need Chan’s cock. 

His grip on your hands is loose, so you wiggle yourself out of his hold and circle his neck, bringing the man close to your face, the sudden movement makes him withdraw his fingers from inside your hole, you can feel the wetness from his fingers dripping onto your thigh. 

“I need you now, need you to make love to me,” you say in one breath, hoping he hears you. Hoping he would let you have his cock. 

Chan might be a tease but he knows a deserving princess when he sees one. And you are definitely a princess who deserves to be filled with his cock and cum. 

“Anything for my princess,” he tells you, giving you a soft and sensual kiss right after. 

Chan lets you go briefly to take off his pants. You lick your lips as he stands in his naked glory, his abs are just asking to be licked and his cock so hard, it bounces on his stomach when he takes off his boxers. Your mouth waters at the sight, wanting nothing more than to suck him off. This beautiful, wonderful man. And all yours to admire and touch.  

But when you’re about to take off his shirt that you’re wearing, he stops you. He takes the bunched up fabric and instead of taking it off all the way, he makes you bite it. Now the shirt is between your teeth, tits bare to him. 

“Wanna fuck you in my shirt. So I can have something that you’ve cum in and you have something that I’ve cum in,” he tells you and you swear you’re about to have another orgasm just from that. The thought of Chan wanting to have something of his associated with the act of you cumming is just so hot. 

You can only give him a desperate nod, loving how sexy but also intimate it is to have him say that. Chan kisses your forehead as a sign of thanks, his cock now hard and ready to fuck you to oblivion. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he moans as he prods your entrance with the tip of his cock. Your small frame is more apparent now that he’s about to fuck you with something bigger, something  a lot thicker. 

You, on the other hand, can only moan through the shirt, now all muffled. Chan keeps on playing with your hole using only the tip of his cock, hissing at how good it feels to have you clench around him. 

But his focus is not just on your cunt because now he’s presented with his other favourites; your tits. “Pretty princess with the prettiest cunt and the prettiest tits,” he praises, tongue immediately lapping up your nipples, biting and licking as he has his cock head playing with your entrance. 

Your head is just filled with Chan. The way he’s so greedy with your tits but so stingy with your cunt is driving you crazy. But you can’t say anything. The fabric of the shirt that you’re biting is already wet with your saliva but you don’t care, you just want to be good and get Chan to finally fuck you. Make love to you. Anything that involves him shooting his load in you. 

“Fuck, fuck, I should just make love to you like this. Tease you with my tip, just like this, fuck!” he groans, head filled with only the thought of cumming inside you. But he knows you want his whole cock in, so when he sees your eyes getting watery, he admits defeat. He can no longer tease his princess, not when she’s been so good and obedient. And especially not when she’s tearing up, all needy and greedy for all his cock to fuck into her cute little cunt. 

Chan gives into you, finally, sinking his cock little by little, the stretch so good you let go of the fabric in your mouth, moaning so loudly, telling Chan how good it fucking feels. 

“Oh Chan, ah, ah, fuck Chan!” you nearly scream, the stretch too good for you to not let the neighbours know. “Oh fuck, so big, so big,” you say to him, this time reserving the praises all for your amazing man. 

“Yeah? You like it don’t you? Like having me stretch your pretty pussy,” he tries to tell you in a confident tone but a man like him is weak when he’s presented with a cute princess like you, what more when he’s engulfed with such warmth from a pussy he wishes he can use everyday. 

“Fuck, princess. So fucking wet and tight,” Chan runs his mouth, not caring if he’s just repeating his praises because all he can think of is you. You. you. His one and only princess, one and only love. 

You’re no better. Fingers clawing Chan’s back as he starts his thrusts, you being so turned on that he doesn’t need to start so slow, hips already snapping into you, the plan of making love to you thrown out the window. 

“Made for me, fucking- fucking made for my cock, aren’t you, princess?” he asks, his cock rubbing against your throbbing walls, the tip finding the sweet spot inside you so fast. 

“For you, just you, you Channie,” you answer him, legs that were initially propped up now limp on the bed, just taking what you’re given. Your boyfriend’s cock never disappoints, the girth stretches you out more than you think you could handle but he’s known your body enough to make his big dick an enjoyable experience for you. 

“For me, fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking sexy. My princess, my fucking baby,” Chan moans, feeling himself already on the edge of cumming but he needs you to reach your high first. His thumb sneakily rubs your clit, and his mouth latches onto your nipple, giving you a lot of stimulation at once, making you cry out in ecstasy. 

Your moans bounce off the walls, your brain no longer computing actual words, just meaningless babbles of “Chan”, “Chris”, “cock”, “big”, “full”, “cum” all used separately. 

“Gonna cum? My pretty princess wants to cum?” Chan grunts with every thrust, feeling his ego boost because of how you’re now just a mess because of him. 

You nod and nod and nod, and with one more push of his cock into the spongy part that makes your eyes roll, your head thrown back as you finally let go, your cunt squeezing Chan’s cock but the man is relentless, he doesn’t stop although you’re already cumming and sobbing at how good it feels to cum around your boyfriend’s cock. 

“My. Cunt. Mine. Fucking. Mine,” Chan says with every punishing thrust, his cock hitting the spot in you repeatingly, overstimulating you a little but in the best way. 

“Fuck, fuck you’re throbbing around my cock, princess. So good, so good, i’m gonna, gonna fucking cum, make you mine, make you take all of it, all- fuck, fuck fuck!” and your boyfriend finally lets go, hips stuttering as cum shoots from his tip, filling you up just as he promised. 

You moan at the warmth, your request of being filled up with your lover’s come finally coming true, and it makes you smile like a dumb puppy, all satisfied. 

“Yeah, there you go, there you go, take all of me, all of me,” Chan chants more to himself, still filling you up, always having a lot of cum to give you. He bends down to kiss you, wanting to remind you of his love despite the rather hard fucking he gave you. 

You thank every lucky star for your boyfriend’s thoughtfulness – as well as for his kindness, and not to mention amazing cock and stamina, not to forget the copious amount of cum this man can provide your needy self. Only thing you have to do next time is fuck in the hoodie that’s with Sana. Some purification in the form of cumming with it on should be done. 

“Thank you, Chris,” you say, voice rather breathless. Chan still has his cock in you, still slowly pushing in and out of you for added stimulation. But his next words make you salivate. 

“Oh princess, it’s still too early for appreciation. Now I have to pin you to the wall and fuck all my cum out of you, don’t I? Need to make sure you really forget about the bad day you had.” 

You can confidently say that today is actually a good bad day. 

"Yes, please."

[userwoodz-archive]

random chan gifs 2/♡

[gimmeurtmi]

no nut november — stray kids edition || masterlist

what’s a little healthy competition between friends?

a collaboration with @sluttywonwoo

part one ~

part two ~

part three ~

part four ~

part five ~

part six ~

part seven ~

part eight ~

⚠️ general series warnings: swearing, no nut november as a bet, references to sex as a need/impulse, ot8 talk about their sexual relationships to the other boys, smut!!!🔞

each chapter will be written by one of us (four each) and released in chronological order of who broke first. place your bets on the winner!!

[koorminii]

gold rush | bangchan (m)

“I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch, everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.” Or, a lot of people love chan but he only loves you. He just wishes you could see that.

⇝ pairing: bangchan x f!reader ⇝ rating: 18+ (for the most part it’s pretty pg) ⇝ genre: childhood friends to lovers | angst | fluff | smut ⇝ word count: 10.6k :o ⇝ warnings: lots of pining, based off of gold rush by taylor swiftie, attempt to use metaphors, kinda angsty, also fluffy, chan is rlly popular, minor character death (not mentioned in detail), misunderstandings kinda? but they’re bearable, chan halfway confesses like three times, but you just don’t want to get your hopes up :(, changbin is kinda mean, self indulgent!!, romantic-ish smut (I tried), the smut is skippable it’s like a bonus part <3, blow jobs, pussy eating, kissing, unprotected sex (we know better), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, lovey dovey stuff, time jump, lmk if i’m missing anything

a/n: hi angels, <3 this is now my longest fic… I listened to evermore on wednesday and gold rush and tolerate it filled me with the most insane inspiration ever, so despite my four current wips i whipped this up and posted it in a day so if it shows… i’m so so sorry </3 I could’ve made this way better so let’s pretend I couldn’t have! I hope you like it! It’s way longer than I planned considering it was only supposed to be like 2k. I also added smut which I hadn’t planned on but I made it as soft as possible just to fit the overall vibe I was going for. I wrote this in like ??? 8 hours maybe?? and most of all this shit is self indulgent as fuck like… i’m so !???? i love chan

playlist: gold rush by taylor swift, tolerate it by taylor swift, sad beautiful tragic by taylor swift, she by harry styles (idk anywhere near enough good romantic songs to make a playlist and this is all i listened to as i wrote so… yea idk what’s up with me)

mlist | taglist | navi

When did you fall in love?

You think you could most likely tie it back to when Chan first came to town, brown curly hair falling over his eyes, a fuzzy orange sports headband on his head, and a permanent blush on his cheeks. Or, perhaps it was when he’d introduced himself to you, blond hair curling behind his ears as he stared you down, looking less youthful yet even more handsome. Or, maybe it was when he sat next to you in your freshman year of university, spreading his books along his desk, badgering you for one of your shiny pencils, and winking at you when class began.

Maybe it was after all of this. Maybe you still aren’t really in love, but the way your heart beats when he’s around, when he smooths his hands over your shoulders and tucks his head under your chin, makes you think that maybe you are.

It doesn’t matter though– and it never will. Everybody wants him. All you are is another face in the crowd, a friend to talk to when things get tough. You’re someone with whom his shoulder’s brush as he walks past– not someone who gets to feel the wonder of his embrace. The feel of his lips against your skin, the sweet words saved for his lover. That’s never been you.

The sun beams down on you, its rays glittering over the wooden benches of the park, reflecting off of streetlights and seeping in through the cracks of windows and doors. Your feet move leisurely along the street, and in your hand you cradle a warm latte. It’s the middle of September and occasionally sharp gusts of wind leave an air of frigidness over your skin. Your lashes flutter under the breeze, and despite the cold you’re content to saunter along campus. It’s still warm enough for you to leave your hands exposed without them falling victim to the biting chill of autumn, and it’s exactly what you need to distract your mind.

Each step you take allows the thoughts that have been plaguing you to fall away one by one until they are no more. You’re free to ignore them until you have to see Chan again in all his boyish charm and utter cluelessness. Your eyes shut momentarily as the image of him comes to the forefront of your mind, each crinkle in his eye as he smiles, his dimple, his laugh. It brings a familiar ache to your heart. One that can’t fall away with your steps nor with the frigid air. It is one that never leaves you no matter how much you beg or how much you wish. It's become a part of you, and of that you’re sure of.

What you’re not sure of is how to feel about all that your life has become. When you were younger you were no stranger to love– to watching the way your parents interacted as if their life was a simple romance film. You had never lived a loveless life, whether through platonic love or familial, you had felt it all your life. It was normal.

When you were younger you never thought you’d have the same type of love that your parents had. You’d witnessed all forms of love– the best kinds and the worst kinds– and didn’t think you’d get the chance to experience either one. You’d been on the receiving end of many emotions, the good and the bad, though your attraction to others since you knew what attraction was had always been shallow. A simple crush that made your heart flutter, but nothing that made you want to dance to an imaginary song in the dim glow of the kitchen at night. Nothing that made you think waking up to them everyday would be a blessing, and losing them would be a tragedy. For you, it was just like it was for everyone else. Nothing special like the love you’d always laid witness to. Nothing like the love people on your television would cry and cheer about, completely and irrevocably in love with whom they considered their other half.

When you were younger, you envied your parents. As wrong as it had always seemed, as horribly shallow as it had felt, their love constructed a jealousy in you, an insecurity, a flaw. For something you had been exposed to since being a mere infant, why was it so hard for you to feel? All you wanted back then was the love that made people stupidly happy. The feeling that made a comfortable ache form in their chests and an irreversible smile form on their cheeks.

Now, you think that you simply don’t deserve that love. You feel it, you understand it, yet it doesn’t feel as good as it should. It doesn't feel like theirs.

You’ve tried to reverse it, to become the shallow young girl you once were, but the ache in your chest remains through it all, and the complete devotion you feel towards your best friend is just agony every day it isn’t returned.

You’ve arrived at your dorm room, the grandiose building imposing as it towers over you, yet bringing with it a sense of comfort. You don’t miss out on any chance to revel in that feeling– constantly feeling as if a rug has been pulled from under you in every waking moment of the day. It’s tiring, and at any moment you feel like you’re ready to crumble under the weight of it all. Was love supposed to be so agonizing? So terribly heartbreaking? Was it right to tear you down this way?

Your keys jingle on the loop, and your Mary Janes click with every step along the lacquered wooden floors, the entire building spotless in its entirety and poshness oozing uncomfortably from its walls. Though with every step you took you became more and more at ease just happy that you’d be able to crash in your bed and pity yourself for the next few hours.

That was all your life consisted of now, after all.

You jogged up the stairs, your legs burning with effort and your movements restrained from your long pencil skirt. A blazer was buttoned deftly over your chest and black tights made it so that barely any skin was exposed. Not that it mattered, anyway. You’re a grown woman free to do whatever you please, and if that includes getting sick in the late autumn weather then so be it.

Upon arrival at your dorm room your shoulders sagged in visible relief. The door couldn’t unlock quick enough as you shuffled your way inside, dropping your purse to the side and setting your empty coffee cup on the kitchen island. You knocked your head back, looking up at the ceiling through bleary eyes and a tired frown. Your feet ached in your shoes and you wanted to spread your legs wide without feeling like you were wearing an exercise band.

You plopped down on your couch, unstrapping and kicking off your confining shoes and curling your feet into the couch. You relaxed into the chair, letting the misery and affliction of the day seep into the fabric. Your eyes closed of their own accord, and a content sigh left your lips in bliss. This was your comfort after a long day. Sitting alone to your own thoughts— or rather with no thoughts, allowing the silence to envelop you and comfort you with an imaginary hand on your back. It was this that made every day worth working through— the knowledge that you’d be able to curl up at the end of the day and relax your muscles just to do it all over again the next day.

Ever since you were a child being alone was a comfort you always sought out. Being left to your own devices was the best thing your parents could have ever done for you, and it was when you were able to fully relax. Reading, writing, drawing— the silence of your bedroom was a safe haven for your turbulent mind. Always running, never stopping to give you a break or catch your breath. Your thoughts ran rampant ever since you could remember, tormenting you and making your life an aching bout of anxiety. Silence was something that should’ve made it worse, but it was when you could fall into your daydreams and pretend your life wasn’t your own.

Sleep pulls you under, insistent as it forces your eyelids down.

Chan has always been a stranger to love, and that’s why he’s always done his best to give as much as he could. Since he was a young boy he had never known his father, had never known what it was like to play in the backyard with him or watch basketball games. He never knew what it would be like to hang out with his own dad, sharing secret handshakes and joking around with his mom. He didn’t know what it would be like to feel fatherly love, to feel the embrace of who should’ve been one of the most important people in his life.

Since he was a young boy it’s just been him and his mother, in their downtrodden family home, barely standing no matter how hard his mother worked to support them both. His mother had shared as much love as she could, fighting through the bitterness Chan’s father had left her with and pushing herself harder to provide for them both without any help. She had tried her hardest since Chan was a child until he was a senior in high school, constantly making sure he was provided for and well taken care of. This love should’ve been enough, but for a long time it wasn’t.

Chan had never known what it was like to love someone completely and irrevocably, wanting to shout from the rooftops his devotion to another. He had never seen his parents love each other, had never met either of his grandparents, and had no aunts or uncles or cousins in his life or who cared about him enough to even pretend they wanted something to do with him. In elementary school he was ridiculed, fatherless and pitiful. He didn’t live in a house as nice as the other kids, he didn’t have a complete and happy family like the other kids, or the same amount of money, or the same amount of privilege. To them, he was nothing.

In middle school it was much worse. By that time Chan had been no stranger to bullying. He had struggled through it during elementary school, had been tormented by his peers since before he was a teenager, and didn’t let the words affect him no matter how much harsher they became. To him, his oppressors were the pitiful ones. They were the ones who had not experienced enough love, and no matter how much he lacked he would always hold enough love in his heart for others— so that they didn’t have to feel as worthless as he did.

Chan knew from early how hard-working his mother had been. He knew she tried her best, that she worked herself to the bone just to make him happy. How much she wanted her love to be enough— and maybe it would’ve been had he not had to experience all that he did. He knew, and that’s why he had never voiced his feelings to her at all throughout elementary school and middle school, and why by the time high school came around he was an expert at masking the pain in his heart with a smile on his face.

When Chan’s mother told him they were moving it felt like a weight had been lifted. Leaving all the pain of his past felt like the beginning he needed, the start he wanted to finally be happy. To finally let his mother’s love be enough.

By the time Chan turned seventeen, his smile was the brightest it had ever been. He didn’t know how good it felt to be admired, to be held in high regard, to love and be loved back. It felt good. He never wanted to let that go, and if it was up to him he never would.

Before Chan made it to college his mother fell ill. Chan willed the love in his heart to be enough, hoped that his prayers and wishes would bring his mother back to him. That the love she had always given him would strengthen her and allow her to live as happily and carefree as she deserved. Chan had a plan, he would be the one to take care of her this time around. He was 18, had his own car and his own job. He was going to college to start his career so he could be there for her in return. So she could be taken care of like she deserved. He begged for his love to be enough, but sometimes it simply isn’t. And when the casket closed on the worst day of Chan’s life, he realized that to be true.

Chan rushes out the cafe, umbrella in hand, giggling to himself as he runs across campus— two coffee cups in hand as he goes. Bystanders watch him warily as he runs, wondering if he’ll drop one of the items he’s carrying or wondering if he’s alright, but Chan doesn’t notice and if he does, he doesn’t care enough to stop. His feet splash in puddles, carrying him to your dorm room as swiftly as possible. He’s careful not to slip on the wet pavement and tightens his grip on your drink to make sure it doesn’t spill.

The building is still the same imposing grandiose thing that it always has been, but to him it’s nothing but slabs of cement between piles of brick. He pays no mind to the water that drops down his umbrella over the once pristine wooden floor, simply running up the stairs and to your room. You should be awake by now, he decides, all too familiar with your daily naps after class and after work. His cap hangs low over his eyes so no one recognizes him as he shuffles through the halls.

He knocks rapidly on your door and only stops when he hears your groan through the drywall. His giggles float from his lips freely and unfiltered, and he’s filled with unadulterated joy just at the simple thought of seeing you. His heart thuds in his chest and he hopes he’s early enough to see your face puffy from sleep, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled as if he had finally gotten the chance to wake up next to you.

When the door opens he grins, dimple on full display as you sigh, grabbing a cup from his hands and moving to the side to let him in.

“How was your day?”

“Same as usual— hey!” You place the cup on the table next to your empty one from earlier and move his umbrella outside the door, sending him a glare as you shut it behind you. “Not on my floors,” you huff as he ruffles your hair in response.

“I missed you,” Chan hums, bringing his cup to his lips. “How was class?”

“I missed you too. Class was fine, just tiring Channie.”

A smile flits upon your lips as you cross your legs on the couch, turning towards your best friend’s form sprawled opposite you. “How was the interview?”

Chan smiles, rubbing at his neck in mock modesty. “It went great, honestly. They said they’d call me, tell me what the next steps are and all that shit.” He turns to you, smile blindingly bright. “Fuck, I’m so happy.”

The happiness on his face is palpable in the air between you as you lean forward and bring him into a hug. His cologne sticks to your skin and you bury your nose deeper into his jacket just to feel a little closer to him. “That’s great,” you beam, “If anyone could do it, it’s you.”

His arms encircle you and his lips brush against your cheek. His fuzzy sweater rubs along your bare skin, leaning a trail of warmth in its wake. Chan’s hands run up and down your back and he chuckles. “I know, I can always count on you.”

“Count on me?” you repeated, curling closer in Chan’s embrace as he grinned.

“To be there for me, to trust in me, to support me. You’re always there for me.”

“And you’ll be there for me too.”

“And I'll be here for you too,” Chan whispers, his voice much quieter than it had previously been. He noses into the top of your head, tickling his skin with your hair.

Your breath is silent to match the sudden silence in the room. Chan is still, his nose still pressed into your hair but his hand rests against your back and he leans into you, still holding his weight but allowing himself to relax a bit more in your embrace. You shuffle closer, digging your chin into his shoulder as lightly as possible so that it doesn’t hurt him, and squeeze at his sides.

You know how hard it is for him having lacked a stable support system in one of the most stressful times of his life, and you’re just glad you could be that for him. You allow his cologne to relax you as the silence becomes heavier, enveloping you in its embrace. You let yourself think about things you shouldn’t, allow yourself to wonder if you’d be able to leave a soft kiss against his skin. If he would leave a kiss against yours, trailing fingers across each other and whispering sweet words to one another, simply lounging in each other’s presence. You let yourself think about what would happen next. Would he hold you close? Pull you into his lap? Tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and lean in slowly to kiss you?

“I wish I could tell you what you are to me.”

Chan’s voice almost makes you jolt, so wrapped up in the previous silence that it takes you a moment to recognize he’s spoken. His words bring a frown to your face— one of confusion and one of false hope. You know that no matter how much you want to, you can’t wish for feelings. His hair is soft to the touch as you run your fingers through it, curling tendrils behind his ear and ghosting over his skin as if he was yours.

“I wish you could too.”

When did you fall in love?

Maybe it was when Chan would run his hands along your skin as if you belonged to him. Touching you with such a gentle caress that it was painful to your fragile heart, treating you with such tender care that it was almost unbearable. Yet like a drug you were addicted. To his attention, to his words, to his love. As platonic as it was, it still felt like something to treasure and hold close. It was all you could get and probably all you ever would. Or, perhaps it was when he would take your hand in his, dragging you to a new secret spot and setting up a picnic.

He’d lay out a large blanket, ground it with books and shoes, and then lay out all the food he cooked. Preserved in tupperware he’d make a show of having you try each one, watching with bated breath as you put a contemplative look on your face with every spoonful of food and only relaxing when you’d break character and assure him that his food was the best thing you’d ever tasted, and it was true. It was his and that’s what made it perfect to you.

Or, maybe it was when he’d come to your dorm room every night, right when you’d wake up from your nap, bringing a latte or a snack and lounging on your couch catching each other up on your days, on what’s been happening in the week, and later curling up and falling asleep to a movie. He’d grab ahold of your hand and thread your fingers together— never noticing the hitch in your breath but holding you close to him all the same.

He’d run a hand along your waist, let it slip under your shirt and ghost his fingers across your skin when you hugged. It was all earth-shattering, yet things that were so normal. You couldn’t allow yourself to think of it as anything more than it was.

“So I take it you’re never gonna confess.”

“Confess?” You question, bringing your croissant to your mouth and taking a bite.

Hyunjin sighs, bringing a hand to his hair in order to run through it. “Confess that you have feelings for Chan.” He grumbles, bringing his americano to his lips and looking at you through long eyelashes.

“Be serious, Hyunjin. Absolutely not.” You hiss, leaning forward against the table and settling him with a glare before returning to your croissant. “He practically has an entire entourage. The last person he wants is me when he can have literally anyone.”

“Y/n, are you an idiot? If you had even half the awareness the rest of us have you’d see the way he looks at you. The way he touches you? It’s practically like you two are dating already.”

“But we’re not.”

“But you could be.”

“Hyunjin—”

“I don’t get the big deal? I mean it’s just so obvious-”

“Hyunjin!? The big deal is that I could lose my best friend. It’s really not worth it.”

The eye roll Hyunjin sends your way is borderline petrifying, but you’re adamant in your refusal. You straighten up, swallowing the last bit of your croissant before staring at him with stubborn determination.

“Have you seen any romance movie ever? They always say that and then they end up together because, shocker, they both liked each other the entire time. Don’t be a typical mc.”

“Real life is not a movie,” you scoff, “You can’t possibly expect me to base my reasoning off that?”

“I do expect. You should listen to me. As someone with an outside view and who doesn’t have this fear of rejection I can observe you both very well and you obviously like each other. Just rip the bandaid off and move on.”

“Rip the bandaid off?? Really? Is that the best you’ve got? Not very comforting is it?”

Hyunjin sighs, grabbing your hand from across the table. His hand is large, warm, and you can’t help but be comforted when it envelops you.

“Just trust me.”

Against your wishes Hyunjin’s words stick with you for the rest of the day. It’s not the first time you’d considered confessing, finally letting the feelings that have been building up since high school free— wondering if getting all of it off your chest would make you feel better. But then again, you’d just be like everyone else who’s ever confessed to chan. Begging for him to love them back, face in a red flush, wondering what it would be like to love him.

Day by day the air gets colder, blowing against you so harshly it feels like needles prick your skin. The sky is a deep blue, only covered by a few wispy clouds. Around you couples and friends walk through town together, hand in hand, leaning on each other, hands running over each other’s waists. Happily in love.

You look down at the ground with a sad smile, quivering with each step you take, and this time the silence doesn’t allow your thoughts to disappear— it just lets them come knocking even harder. It happens sometimes, when no matter what you do you can’t escape them.

Against your better judgement you hope Chan is at your dorm. He slept over after a movie night, face pressed against the couch and bangs covering his eyes. you watched him for longer than you’d have liked, but you revel in any opportunity to imagine you both are more than you really are. You know it’s all in your head, you know you’ve got everything wrong, you know it’s just hurting yourself more— but when it comes to Chan you find that it doesn’t matter.

The walk to your dorm is slow, with you stopping to look at everything you could. Staring at worn down buildings, waving at cute dogs, and smiling at people as you walked past. Attempting to immerse yourself in the world around you and stop feeling like a passing viewer— to make it so that it felt like people saw you, and you weren’t just there.

You’d left your dorm room early this morning, meeting up with Hyunjin due to plans you’d both made the week prior. You always enjoyed talking to Hyunjin. He knew what was important in life, was strong-willed and attentive. He gave you the best advice, even if sometimes you didn’t follow it. Besides Chan he was probably one of your closest friends, as well as a boy named Lee Felix and your dorm mate. It’s been a while since you’ve seen them both, and it makes you a little sad. You feel like you lose grip over the people that’s important to you, and that after a while they’ll have no problem leaving you behind.

You heave a deep sigh to get the thoughts out your mind, wishing the September sun was a little brighter so it could lift your spirits. Your latte is still warm in your hand, and you tap your nails against it as you trudge up the road leading back to campus. Hyunjin had other business in the city so you two went your separate ways after breakfast. It was still early, unfortunately, and you had no idea how you’d spend the rest of your day. It was too cold to do anything really fun, and most of your friends had classes today anyway.

It was obvious when you’d arrived back on campus. If the intricate buildings weren’t enough, the perfectly paved pathways and neatly trimmed hedges were. People carried books with them as they walked, wearing big jackets and hats. It was really getting colder, and it almost saddened you. Another year coming to a close and you were still stuck with the same problems and the same feelings. You waved at people as you passed, recognizing a few familiar faces along the way. Attention fueled you, made you feel that maybe you were more in this world than you thought you were. That maybe things could be different, that you and Chan could walk side by side and all those people that usually follow behind him could follow behind you too.

Heat punches you in the face as soon as you step inside your housing, your feet clicking against the hardwood floors in something that’s become a comfortable routine. Your jacket now feels like it’s too warm, sticking to you and trapping heat inside. You rush up the stairs, by passing the elevator that’s been out of order for weeks now, and hurriedly shove your key in the lock on your door.

When you come in Chan isn’t there, but he could be in any of the other rooms of your dorm. You don’t call out for him, not sure if you want to hear the silence that might come as a reply. You kick your shoes off and hang your jacket on the door, unwrapping your scarf and tossing it on the couch on your way to your bedroom. The door is cracked open and the light is on, and the view brings a smile to your face without your control. You open the door wider and peek in. Chan is sitting on your bed, feet propped up in front of him, book in hand. Chan has always loved to read since the day you first met him in Junior year of high school. You thought that like a typical boy if he was reading at all it’d be a comic, or an action series, but it was a romance. At first it was anything he could get his hands on. He’d read pride and prejudice three times, and then decided to spend all his free time in the library. You always joined him, of course, happy to have a friend who liked the same things as you.

When you gifted him a large set of romance books for his birthday that year you were sure he’d kiss you. He stared at you like he would, before smiling and bringing you close into a hug. He still has every book, and it makes your heart flutter in silly ways. Right now, he’s holding a book out in front of him, reading glasses perched on his nose and a cup of tea on his nightstand. He’s really a sight for sore eyes, lips pursed in frustration or concentration you’re not sure. When reading it could be either. He flips the pages deftly, running over each line with the intention to devour every word, to soak it in with everything he could.

He’s so immersed you’re sure if you spoke he wouldn’t even hear, and if he did he’d only answer when he was done reading the page. You two were the same in that sense. You stepped into the room fully and closed the door behind you, dropping your latte and the coffee you got for Chan on the nightstand next to his tea and then laid flat on your bed with a sigh. Your arms sprawled out beside you, and your chest raised with every breath.

You turned your head to the side to look at Chan and couldn’t help the flush that warmed your cheeks when you met his eyes, him already staring down at you with a fond smile on his face.

“Hi.” You whispered, rolling onto your side to look at him more comfortably.

“Hi,” he murmured, closing his book and pushing it to the side. He rolled onto his side to look at you, moving himself even closer before running a hand down your hair and cradling your neck, running a slow finger across your skin.

“How was your day?”

“I read myself into oblivion while waiting here like a poor housewife for my dear best friend to come back.”

“House husband,” You correct, “And I went to the cafe with Hyun,” you whined, “don’t tease me.”

“I’m serious,” Chan laughed, moving his finger from your neck to slip it under the hem of your shirt and lightly tug it. “I was so lonely and I didn’t call ‘cus I know how much you like hanging out with him.”

You giggle, sitting up and facing him. “Oh yeah? I like hanging with you too, you know.”

“I know. I’d rather argue with you than laugh with anyone else.”

“So what does that say about you?” You scoff, laying back down beside him and trying to ignore the fact that you both have gotten even closer, and each breath that leaves his lips lingers against your skin. You see his lashes flutter under your gaze, yet he doesn’t stop staring intensely at your face.

“That I love you.”

It comes as a whisper, like a confession. But you can’t get your hopes up. You won’t. You pray for some miracle that Chan didn’t hear the hitch in your breath, or the fact that you noticeably flinched at his words, your lashes fluttering closed under his gaze. Your heart beats erratically, thumping against your chest and pounding harshly against your rib cage. If chan moved closer, if he pressed his body fully to yours, you wonder if his heartbeat would match your own.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Chan holds his phone tightly, a frown etched onto his face. The group chat is blowing up and he can’t stop for a moment to read any of the messages. He weaves between groups of people, waving at most of them as he goes. A lot of people know him, a lot of people admire him. He helps out as many people as he can and makes friends with most, just trying to be a pillar for others— someone other people can look up to and lean on when they need to. That’s something that he’s always wanted to be, who he felt like he needed to be since a young age.

He remembered what you’d had to say about it during your second year and his third, your books spilled over the desk in your bedroom. You had dark circles under your eyes, and you were getting thinner, yet you still managed to smile at him so brightly. As if he was someone that deserved to see such beauty, such love in your gaze.

“So that's the face someone makes when they know everyone’s obsessed with them, huh?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Chan, it’s good, you deserve to be loved.”

Just not in the way he’d like, Chan guesses, frowning at the memory. He still remembers how much it bothered him that he couldn’t do anything more but bring you company during one of your hardest years in college, just having to watch as you worked yourself to the bone. He would’ve taken all your exams if he could, but you would’ve never let him, too content in neglecting yourself rather than letting your friends do the same.

The sun is practically nonexistent this afternoon, hiding behind heavy clouds. It's been raining for the last few days, coating the city in a bleak atmosphere that heavily resonates with him. It almost feels like the lower his mood becomes the dimmer everything around him does too. Sighing, Chan turns around to face the large, grandiose building that’s become the meetup spot for him and his friends.

He skips up the steps, and pushes open the door to the studio, feeling good at the wave of heat that brushes over him. He goes there enough to bypass having to sign in, simply sending a nod the receptionists way and walking to the elevator. Judging by the state of the group chat, Changbin and Jisung are already there. Jeongin might be too, but he knows the younger one is busy with his own workload. It sucks to never have time to see each other anymore, and even though the school year just started he’s hoping to see the end of it sooner rather than later.

When he pushes open the soundproof doors and ambles into the studio, Jisung is on his back in a matter of seconds. As jumpy as ever and unnaturally excitable, he latches on to Chan already asking a million questions. Changbin just laughs where he’s seated in front of the soundboard, messing with the dials and settings until they’re at a level he’s comfortable with.

Chan drops his bag down before plopping onto one of the padded seats in the studio and Jisung wastes no time sitting next to him. Though when he finally stops his chattering a frown etches into his face.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asks, a hand coming to Chan’s shoulder and squeezing lightly, attempting to bring a warmth of comfort.

“Nothing,” Chan laughs, shaking his head.

Changbin has come closer now, either finished with the setup or wondering what’s going on.

“I swear! I’m just having a long day, that’s all.”

“Is it what I think it is?”

“Well what do you think it is?” Chan tenses, eyebrow raised at Changbin where the latter stares down at him.

“Is it this shit with Y/n again?”

“I’m sorry, what? It’s not anything, exactly like I said.”

“We already know when you come in here pouty and upset it’s because of her. Dude, I think you just need to let it go.”

Chan sputters, his eyebrows furrowing more in confusion than anger. “Let what go?”

“These feelings? It’s just hurting you more than helping and maybe you need to realize that this thing between you two isn’t meant to be.”

“Bin-”

“Please, Sung, you’ve said the same thing yourself.”

“What!? So you two have just been talking about me like-”

“No, that’s not it. We’re just worried and it’s translating poorly.”

“You don’t need to be worried, and like I said it’s nothing, so leave it alone.”

“Whatever, man.”

Chan grabs his bag where he's set it down and wraps his jacket around him once again. He hears Jisung call out to him but he can’t work there, not with the hostile energy that’s bouncing around in that studio. The door slams shut behind him and he doesn’t even bother looking back. He bypasses the elevator, instead running down the steps and rushing outside, welcoming the chill of the afternoon air. It cools his heated skin and his angered heart, and gives him the strength to leave the area and walk back where he came.

He sees people he knows on the way but he pretends he doesn’t, not in much of a mood to pretend to be happy to see everyone he meets. His mind is a tornado of thoughts, and his feet move quicker than his mind. When he sees your dorm up ahead he scoffs at himself, at his stupidity, at his dependence on you. He continues anyway, running up the stairs and turning his key into the lock. You’re breaking so many rules for him, allowing him so much freedom in your life, and it just makes the spot he’s carved in his heart for you to deepen.

His mind is frazzled as well as his hair. His chest heaves in frustration. At himself, at his choices, at everything. It seems so difficult for everything to go the way he wants, as if the world makes it so that everything he wants to go his way simply doesn’t. His key is still in the door. He hasn’t pushed it open. He wants to pretend this act he’s got going on isn’t hurting him, pretend that acting like you’re only a friend to him isn’t something that carves pieces in his heart at every moment. His hand trembles at his side, wishing he had yours to hold. Wishing he had your skin to run over and calm him.

He doesn’t know when you’ve become such a comfort to him. Maybe it was when you’d smiled at him for the first time. When you offered him a seat at your lunch table and shared what you didn’t want with him when he asked. Or, perhaps it was when you’d accompany him to the library everyday after school, sitting next to each other and reading whatever books you both could get your hands on. Or, maybe it was when you’d spent your savings from your summer job on a stack of books for his birthday, and it was the first time someone besides his mom had ever gotten him a birthday gift.

Or maybe it happened after all that. When he’d cried in front of you for the first time and you just held him tightly, refusing to let go. Or, perhaps it was when you’d come to his mothers funeral. A sad one, it was, with only four people in attendance. Chan couldn’t afford a casket, couldn’t afford to have a church with a pastor. He didn’t have anything, but he had you holding his hand, rubbing his back as he cried at the loss of all he had left.

Chan didn’t know back then that he’d gained something too.

Let it go? He can’t let it go, because you’re a part of him now too and losing you, losing his love for you, would be like losing a part of himself. Chan pushes the door open, content in how much he’s relaxed in the moments before the door. You’re standing in front of the door when he opens it, a mug in hand and a smile on your face.

“You look like you could use a hug.”

“Yeah,” Chan chokes, wrapping his arms around you and cradling your head close to his chest. You slide the mug onto the table beside you so you can pull him even closer, gripping his shirt tightly and positioning yourself so that Chan can lean his head into your neck. His body trembles with the tears that were begging to be let out as he asks in your warmth.

“You know I love you, right? I- I love you so much it hurts me.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, whimpered and muffled as they’re spoken against your skin. “What’s wrong, Channie? Talk to me.”

Chan shakes his head, knocking against your chin. “I can’t. I can't.”

“Yes you can. You can tell me anything.”

“I want a lot of things that I shouldn’t.” Chan whispers, bringing a palm to smooth over your hair. “I think about a lot of things I shouldn’t. Wondering if I could have it.”

“Chan…?”

“You are one of those things.”

You don’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until you let out a long exhale, your face screwing up with unshed tears as Chan starts to sway your body against his. His palm continues to run along your hair as if it’s anchoring him, giving him the courage to continue.

“For years, I’ve wondered what it would be like to hold you as more than a friend.”

Chan digs his face deeper in the crook of your neck, pressing his nose into your skin, and letting his tears wet your sleeve. His eyes flutter shut and his grip on you tightens. He didn’t plan on confessing to you tonight. He didn’t plan on cradling you close to his chest, feeling your breath against his skin as he poured his heart out, letting you into the one part of his soul he’s shown no one. It’s fitting, he thinks, for you to be the first to know. He’s peeling himself bare, letting you see the pieces of him he’s worked so hard to hide. The parts of him that he’s held so close to his heart, unraveled with a few simple words.

“Everytime I said I love you, I meant it. I meant it with more of me than anyone has ever seen. I’ve meant it with every fiber of my being, and you have a place in my heart no one else could ever have.” Chan releases a shaky breath, chuckling lightly before he continues.

“You’re already the most important person in my life, and I can’t imagine life without you. I wish I could tell you what you are to me.”

Your vision is blurred by tears, and your hands tremble where they grip Chan's shirt. He's so broad, covering you with all of him. He’s all around you, suffocating you with his words and himself. Your lip wobbles, but you muster up all the courage you don’t have, the strength you wish you held, to open up your heart in return.

“I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch, everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you,” you start, your words muffled and your breath jagged.

Chan is quiet, his heart beating faster than what should be humanly possible.

“When I'm near you, in this space, the pause between this breath and the next, you’ve carved a piece of yourself in my heart.”

“…”

“And I’m not afraid to love you— only afraid that my love won’t be enough. If I know what love is, it’s because of you.”

Chan strokes a thumb against your cheek, moving from your neck to lean his forehead down against yours.

“So please love me. As more than a friend, because it’s unbearable to hold you and look at you without being able to call you mine.”

“I’m yours,” Chan murmurs, “for as long as you want me.”

“So forever?” You laugh, but it doesn’t sound much like a laugh, wet and nasally from your tears.

“I really want to kiss you,” Chan whispers, hooking a finger under your chin and pulling you close. His nose brushes against yours and your breaths intermingle, mending with each other.

“Please.”

Your breath is labored as Chan’s lips ghost over yours. His shirt is soft under your fingers and his hand is strong where he grips your waist. Your lips brush, and you realize that this is it, the moment you’ve been wishing for, begging for, since you met him. Since you realized you were in love with him. With his silliness, with his laugh, his smile, his care. Since you realized his genuinity, how determined he was and is to take care of the people around him.

It’s tentative— gentle and soft— but not hesitant. You’re sure of what you want, and what you want is Chan. Your best friend. Your lips move slowly at first, exploring each other, before they press closer, lapping over each other and locking you both against one another. Your body buzzes with warmth, and you wrap your arms around Chan's neck— pulling him impossibly closer as he smiles.

You feel so warm, so happy, the kiss becomes less of a kiss and more of your teeth hitting each other from the force of your smiles. Tears still drip steadily from your cheeks but this time from happiness.

“I like kissing you,” Chan giggles when you both break apart for air, sighing against your skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

You leave a kiss full of relief on his lips, salty and wet, moving your mouth against his as he returns it. Slowly, your lips start to press against each other more eagerly, lapping over each other and filling you with warmth.

You find that you’ve fallen.

Truly, madly, and completely.

Fallen for a man that treats you like you’re his saving grace.

For a man who holds you like you’ll disappear without his hands on you.

For a man who’s simple confession made your heart stop momentarily.

You’re in love, and as much as it had been a part of you for all these years, you’re finally letting yourself admit it.

And he, you.

It’s been a few weeks since then, and you’ve been thinking. Every time his lips brush over your skin, when he pulls you up into his lap and kisses you breathless, when he digs his fingers into your hips content to leave marks that last for the next few days, you think about why he stops. You think about why he doesn’t touch you more. After all, now you both finally can.

Chan sits on the couch, your legs swung over his own, and a romance movie plays quietly in the background. You brush his hair from over his forehead, and your nails gently scrape along his skin. Chan hums, the vibrations traveling through your shirt and into your skin.

You feel the happiest you’ve ever been. You feel like maybe this could be what your parents have always had. A love that sticks forever. You want Chan to be your person. You’re so sure that he is.

“Are you tired?” You question, leaning down to get a look at his face. “We can sleep.”

“No, I’m not.” Chan smiles, grabbing your free hand and tugging it close to his face, leaving a kiss on each of your knuckles. His touch lingers against your skin and warmth blooms inside you. He leans forward, leaving a sweet peck on your lips but you lean in, pressing insistently against him. He lets you, opening his mouth and swiping his tongue across your lips.

He runs his thumb across your cheek, gently caressing your skin and everywhere he touches you, it feels like your body is in flames. This something has been building up inside you and now you're not sure how long you'll be able to control yourself. “I trust you, so please.” You plead, nosing against him. His lips feel so soft, so fitting on your mouth, you let out a whimper when he goes further than just a gentle kiss, taking your bottom lip between his properly.

Chan hadn’t even thought about properly responding to you before he was flipping you over, caging you under him and grinding his hips against yours. Your fingers trailed down his skin, running over the fabric of his clothes before tucking inside the waistband of his sweatpants and sliding them down his hips. Chan was gentle. Always gentle. He pulled your shorts down slowly and you sent a nod his way when he asked you if you were sure.

He nosed against your stomach, trailing his fingers against your bare legs and pulling your underwear down with his teeth. A shiver runs through you at the sight, and you grab at his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself. “You’re so gorgeous.” He sighed, as if he couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that you were his, that he was yours.

His mouth moves along the sensitive parts of your neck, down the line of your throat, while his other hand separates from your own to run down your waist and touch you where he knows you shiver with need.

He slips his leg between your parted ones, allowing you to settle down right on top of his muscular thigh. As the kiss grows deeper, your hips begin to move, gyrating and pressing down against him. As your bodies move with one another, your pleasure continues to rise, forming from your center and spreading over your body.

You desperately try to avoid bucking your hips upwards into him, but fail again and again. Eventually, Chan drags his mouth away, trailing it down your neck. You’re gasping against him, and you curl into his touch, whimpering when sharp teeth nip at you. There’s a tongue soothing the wound, sucking at the same spot, lapping over it. You can feel yourself starting to shake, whimpering more often than not, before you’re dragging Chan’s face back up into a kiss rt. You can feel Chan smiling into it, chuckling just the tiniest bit, but resume kissing him.

He holds his gaze on yours when you fall apart, relaxing your body while the pulsing of your orgasm courses through you. He leans down into your arms right after, pressing tightly against your chest, so tight that you could feel his heartbeat pacing fast against yours. The kisses he gives you are soft and gentle, your thighs still trembling when he pulls away, pulling his grey t-shirt over his head.

The unmistakable shape of his erection that you feel brushing against your stomach lets you know just how turned on he is, and you equally so. His lips return to yours only after he has stripped himself, and your hands move from his shoulders to his chest, trailing down his naked skin, where you slide your fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

You lean forward, taking him into your hand. He’s heavy, full of cum, and you slide your body down so that your mouth is right against his cock. You leave a kitten lick on the underside of his shaft, feeling the veins and the way Chan throbs. He’s a pleasant weight on your tongue and you swirl it around the tip before sucking him into your mouth.

Still with your eyes on his face, you lean closer, kissing his sensitive tip before fitting your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth again. You hear him gasp before it turns into a deep groan, sucking and licking as you take him deeper.

Chan sighs, every time you inch down onto him you can feel his skin against your nose and hear the spit fucking back in your throat. Your eyes lose focus as Chan continues to rut into you, and your body buzzes from the sensation. You feel hot all over, allowing him to use you the way he wants. His low growl vibrates down to your core and you resist the urge to reach down and stroke your fingers to search for your own pleasure, choosing to focus on pleasing him instead.

His lips fall open with a few deep grunts escaping his soft lips, his hips moving faster as he pumps himself into your mouth. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

"You are so beautiful," he sighs, his thumb brushes back and forth over your cheek, relishing the way your body leans into his touch. "You have no idea how many times I wished I could take you like this."

He traces down your panties, soaked with your arousal, running over the lace and moaning at the feeling of it clinging into your clit. His thumb follows the wet trail on the flimsy fabric to find your opening, hardly shielding you from his touch. He twists his hand while he continues to press his thumb in circles over your covered entrance, his fingers find your clit, and then he pinches, hard, sending you over the edge a second time and into one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had.

You squirm at the feeling of your release, his fingers slowly peeling the scrap of black lace down your thighs, making a show out of it while he makes you wait. He continues to tease you, staring you down as you slip your feet from them and he pulls them off. His eyes roam over your body, inhaling deeply, breathing you in. His lashes flutter, and the view of him taking you in so shamelessly makes you shudder.

He drops the fabric in the next moment, looming over you with hooded eyes, and leans down to leave a lingering kiss on your lips. He continues to kiss you as he spreads your legs apart, holding them down with heavy hands. His lips find your hips, then he moves down, running his tongue down your legs, taking time to trail along your thighs, your calves, your ankles, and keeping his eyes on you the whole time.

You let out a gasp at the first stroke of his tongue over your clit. Your legs lift a little, but Chan presses them back down, keeping you in place— keeping you right where he wants you.

You run a shaky hand through his hair as you cry out at the feeling of his tongue resuming its ministrations on your throbbing core. You can’t do much but moan and sigh, an incoherent mess from Chan’s mouth. It’s funny to you, how you started this but he has you shaking from under him, building you up and then breaking you down with immense pleasure— a feeling that you can barely think around.

You hear his soft chuckle as he gives you a few more kisses with his tongue, tasting you, before he looks up again and whispers, “Does that feel good?” He teases, unrelenting in showing you just how determined he is to make good of his words. His grip tightens on your thighs, as the swipes of his tongue grow more intensely. He sucks at your clit, pressing his tongue against you to send you into your second orgasm.

Your hips move desperately against his face, hopeless in your need for more. Chasing pleasure with each roll of your hips and his head buried in your heat. You spasm, shaking in pleasure as you cum, soaking his tongue with your release and closing him in with your thighs. He doesn’t stop, sucking your clit in his mouth and using his tongue to lap up every bit of your orgasm. You cry out in protest, your body squirming away from his touch as instinct but the grip on your thighs doesn’t let up.

“Chan please, oh god.”

His chest shakes with a chuckle, rising up and slotting himself between your thighs. You want him, more than anything, no matter what. He kisses the corner of your lips, smiling against your mouth. “I love you,” he sighs, and a smile crosses your face.

“I love you too.”

As he continues to litter kisses against your skin, he presses his cock against your clit, rubbing his hard length against you, coating himself with your arousal. The next time he pulls himself back from you, he only does it briefly— and when he pushes himself back it’s with a thrust into you hard and fast, nearly bringing you to another orgasm despite you just coming down from your previous one.

Your thoughts leave you as he continues to move in and out of you, filling you up and satisfying you the way he always does, but you manage to speak without realizing. “You make me so happy,” You whimper, and your walls contract as he slams into you deeper, lifting your legs and situating them against his shoulders. He buries himself so deep inside it’s almost like he’s melded himself into you. He’s so big, you can barely breathe, allowing him to bring pleasure to you both as he moves.

“Shit, Y/n.”

Even this moment feels too good to be true. To have him rocking against you, pulling you closer than anyone ever has. It feels like a dream.

Your words become nothing but a moan when his thrusts don’t falter and instead pick up. You don’t know how he’s managing to keep going, how he’s managed to move even quicker.

"Come on, baby," he whispers, clenching his jaw, letting you know that he’s on the brink of orgasm. Chan bends down, taking your lip into his mouth, making you sigh in bliss. Then his fingers come down to find your clit, sending you erupting into another orgasm.

The next thing you know Chan is groaning above you, his body going lax against you and his cum shooting into you forcefully, making you clench harder around him. Chan whimpers as he continues to cum, again and again, releasing into you and painting your walls.

“Oh Channie,” you sigh, “does it feel good?”

Chan nods, his hair brushing against your naked skin, and he presses a soft kiss against your collarbone. His lips rest there as you both come down from your high, basking in the glow of your orgasms and relishing in the presence of each other.

He pulls out of you, dragging his tip against your skin before littering kisses against your face. Small pecks that tickle with the gentle force of them, and you giggle, running a hand through his soft locks.

Your chest heaves with the force of your breaths but otherwise your body feels light, airy, and any negative thought you’d entertained before is completely gone. You didn’t need this to prove that he’s yours, to feel comfortable, but he’s shown you that he wants every part of you, and it fills you with an undeniable warmth.

“How is it that you’re this cute even after all this?” Chan murmurs.

“Shut up.”

You trace your fingers against his skin, tracking his breathing and basking in his warmth. Your fingers slide through the grooves in his abs, tracing shapes over his collarbone, and tweaking his nipple just for Chan’s barking of a laugh when he shoves you away saying that it tickles. You lean your forehead down so that it’s resting just near Chan’s armpit, hairless like usual, and inhale— breathing in his scent, his proximity, him. He's perfect, and he’s yours, no matter what.

You’ve always wished for the closeness and transparency of a trusting relationship— have always wondered if you’d be able to get that, if you’d be able to keep it— and Chan is proof that you have. It feels good to know that there are no secrets, no doubts or worries, and that there can only be acceptance between the both of you. A secureness that would be hard to find anywhere else. It fills you with butterflies, as if you and Chan had just started dating, —and though you have, you’ve been best friends for years— but it makes you incredibly happy to know that those feelings will remain, and you can only hope it'll stay that way forever and always.

When Chan runs his hand down your back, reaching below the covers to squeeze your ass, you huff, poking him in the chest as a warning. Yet you know, and Chan knows, that it makes you happy that you have this. A home, a loving boyfriend who loves you just as much as you love him, and a trusting relationship.

Chan likes this familiarity. Laying down with you, bare emotionally and physically, and unworried about being judged or ridiculed. It feels good, it satisfies him more than he ever thought it could, and makes a comfortable, warm, feeling bloom in his chest. He’s happy, he’s loved, and he inhales— taking in the scent of you, your proximity, your love, and he smiles.

6 years later

Fire crackles in the fireplace of your childhood home, the smell of baked goods wafting through the air and filling your nose with delectable goodness. It’s warm, yet the sweater you adorn only feels even more comforting— though the hand around your waist feels even more so.

In the kitchen your parents chatter with your other family members and with your friends, and in the background a christmas movie plays. A christmas tree stands tall in the living room, ornaments dangle from the branches and twinkle with the small gusts of wind from the heater. Stockings line the fireplace and pictures of you and your family decorate every surface around the house. Pictures of chan, too. Him as a child, you both as teenagers, pictures of you on the first day of college, on the day you graduated, at your first job, a picture of you both carrying keys to your first apartment, and a picture of you both under the altar.

The warm, fuzzy feeling that you first had when you and Chan had started dating has yet to disappear even after all these years. It’s still there every time you look at him, every time you hold his hand, every time he kisses you. You nuzzle into his chest and sway. There’s no song playing, only the sounds of the tv and your loved ones, but still you sway together.

The picture of romance you thought you’d never achieve, yet it’s so much more than that. It’s a completeness that fills your heart, a happiness that doesn’t go away even on your worst days, and the comfort of knowing that someone will be there after a long day— there to hold you and whisper their love to you. You’ve been surrounded by love all your life, but this love is something you never thought you’d have. You’d envied your parents for the fact that they’d achieved it, but now that you know what it feels like you can only be happy at the fact that they’d been so lucky. That you’re so lucky.

So, when did you fall in love?

You think you could most likely tie it back to when Chan first laid a kiss on your skin, cheeks flushed and eyes red with tears. Or, perhaps it was when he’d confessed his love to you, waxing poetic about the feelings that you thought were only yours to hold. Or, maybe it was when he took you into his arms for the first time, holding you with care and treating you as if you were something to be treasured.

Maybe it was before all of this. Maybe you still aren’t really in love, but the way your heart beats when he’s around, when he smooths his hands over your shoulders and tucks his head under your chin, or the way unshed tears brim at your eyes when you look at the ring on your finger, makes you think that maybe you’re in something much deeper than that.

a/n: 😭😭 as always i hope you all enjoyed and tysmm for reading <33 ily

mini taglist: ily all sm <;33 @itsisa @myjisung @raspbinniecreme @ughbehavior & @svintsandghosts (i can’t remember if u asked or not <33)