their stocks are falling, the petition is around LESS THAN 100k signatures away from reaching ONE MILLION, there have been almost EIGHT MILLION posts on x/twt about this, multiple protest trucks outside the building of hybe THAT HYBE STAFF THEMSELVES TOOK PHOTOS OF !!!! and reminder there have been NO news of his contract termination even if he’s supposedly (let’s assume) under a soloist contract THERES STILL NO NEWS OF HIS CONTRACT TERMINATION FOR ENHYPEN. as bad as it may feel and look like for us rn it’s looking WAY worse for hybe/belift. there’s still sm hope don’t any of u dare to give up pls — mass email, call, use as many emails as you have, do anything in your capability because nothing has been fully confirmed and decided yet we still have a chance !!!
SIGN THE PETITION !!! LINK
• READ THE THREAD TO HELP: LINK
• EMAIL THEIR INVESTORS: LINK 1 | LINK 2 | LINK 3
• KOREAN [in person] PROTEST: LINK 1 | LINK 2
• GIVE BAD REVIEWS (they’ve currently deleted over hundreds of bad reviews to fix their image — meaning that they’ve seen and heard everything!!! keep going!!!): LINK
• EMAIL KOREAN JOURNALISTS/MEDIA: LINK 1 | LINK 2 | LINK 3
• TRUCK DONATIONS: LINK 1 | LINK 2
• TIMES SQUARE BILLBOARD DONATIONS: LINK
• BANNER DONATIONS / FUNDRAISERS: LINK
• EMAIL JBTC CHANNEL [one of the biggest news outlets in sk]: LINK
one of my favorite subtle implications in the series is that it seems the Titan Army was fully banking on Percy being the host of Kronos. Why else would they make their main base a cruise ship if their primary enemy is a son of Poseidon? Named after Andromeda, the wife of Perseus? Why would they work on Oceanus specifically being free so much? Side notably with other children of Poseidon? Why plant Zeus and Hades' items of power on Percy when Luke already had them? Why only Zeus and Hades' items, not Poseidon's? Well because they really need Percy as Kronos' host, that's why. (and Poseidon siding with them because of that would be a bonus as well)
I like to imagine Luke's cabin on the Princess Andromeda is fully decked out with like "WELCOME PERCY" and sea-themed sheets and everything and he hates it so much cause it's a constant reminder he failed and he was Kronos' second choice. Also then he gets his super special pegasus not even exactly stolen by Percy, but the pegasus willingly defects to be Percy's personal steed instead, which must just be insult to injury. Luke has immense one-sided beef with Percy and Percy has no idea.
LOL. well, the conversation didn’t actually happen. it was only how percy imagined a conversation would have went. so technically, it IS an incorrect quote 😂
leo: you know, lately, i’ve kinda been thinking about settling down. i’m well into my 30s—maybe it’s time.
percy: that’s great, man! you should!
leo: i just—i don’t know. you got any advice for me? you’ve been married forever. you’ve got kids, a nice house, a nice beard… what’s it like? i guess i’m just worried it will change me, which i’m sure you’ll tell me it doesn’t.
percy, letting out a bark-like laugh: oh, it definitely changes you.
leo: what? how?
percy: well, uh… let’s just say i used to be the type of guy who never kept track of dates or remembered events on the calendar. and now… well, what’s today? wednesday, april 7th? that means i have to drive my parents to the airport this weekend, tomorrow is trash day, my oldest son’s birthday is in about three weeks, the dog is due for a vet checkup, it’s my night to make dinner and do the kids’ bath time, and uh—*does quick mental math*—annabeth is ovulating.
Synopsis: A certain dark haired leader of a biker club caught your attention online and you've been watching his weekly races in secret—or so you thought. Little did you know, this handsome biker already knows about his cute little stalker...
Content Warnings: Stalking but online. Smut🔞 after a bit of plot. Unprotected sex, P in V (from the behind), riding, rough, dirty talk(?), ass slapping, pet names, choking(kinda—), aftercare in the shower. Chris is a tease (maybe like a bit?).
Minors do not interact!!!
Note: 17 days late, but better than never— HAPPY NEW YEAR! I've been wanting to draw and write biker Chan for a LONG LONG TIME, so finally here it is. (Yes that drawing is done by me haha)
If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.
The bike flashed away into the stretching tracks in a blink of an eye, leaving a trail of excitement and dust in its wake. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices drowned out by the fading growl of the engine.
You pushed your hood further over your head to cover your hair flying in that direction, blending into the mass of onlookers while your eyes stayed glued to the figure disappearing into the night.
Christopher Bang Chan.
Did an accidental misclick on a hashtag "NightRider" lead you into his world? Yes.
You did have an unexplainable attraction towards bikes. It was the thrill, the speed, the freedom. Even if you couldn't ride one, the way bikes looked like a beast that could conquer the roads, it fascinated you.
But this— this wasn't just an attraction towards the sleek BMW S1000rr that was speeding this evening. No.
A random late-night scroll had led you to a short video of him—helmet off, his hair dark slightly tousled, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he dismounted his bike like he owned the world. That pulled you like a magnet to steel.
You watched him, racing the tracks with swift motion, in practice ease, over taking every other rider, everything about him demanding attention.
Every other rider was left in his dust, and the cheers of his friends, 7 guys echoed above the deafening roar of the engines.
"Teach these bastards why they can’t touch you!” one of them bellowed, pumping his fist in the air, his blood red hair catching the rays of the setting sun.
“Eat that, losers!” another laughed, slapping the back of the guy next to him as they all leaned against their bikes, eyes glued to Chan’s figure dominating the track.
In a final swift, Chan drifted his bike as he reached the finish line, the tires screeching against the asphalt in a perfect arc. A plume of smoke curled up from under the wheels, his dimpled grin flashing at his victory and triumph.
The lingering growl of his bike continued as he sat there for a moment, one leg propped on the ground as if soaking in the chaos he had just commanded. His friends were the loudest of all, their jeers and cackles cutting through the noise.
Chan finally killed the engine and swung off the bike with the same effortless grace that had first caught your attention online. He pulled off his helmet, shaking his head slightly to ruffle his dark hair into place.
His eyes gleamed with a mix of adrenaline and triumph as he tucked the helmet under one arm and began walking toward his friends.
“That’s how it’s done, you fucking legend!” yelled one in a strong Australian accent, smacking Chan’s shoulder, the redhead taking his helmet from him and handing in a water bottle.
“Told you it wasn’t even a competition,” Chan quipped, his voice smooth but laced with that cocky edge that made your stomach flip.
The crowd began descending, slowly leaving you alone in your place, your hood over your head, covering your face slightly. Just as you were about to look away, his eyes briefly landed on you.
Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his gaze on you. It was like he knew who you were but that was impossible. You've been secretly coming to the race every Saturday (telling your parents that you're going to the library) ever since you discovered his page and of course he doesn't know who you are.
It's out of the question.
Chan's smirk deepened, something wicked flashing in his expression. You quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with your phone, but you could still feel the heat of his gaze.
Before you made a fool of yourself, you stood up and walked towards the end of the track, pulling your hood lower to shield your face. Just as you were about to step into the shadows, a sharp, confident whistle cut through the air, freezing you in your tracks.
Your heart was pounding in your ears, you didn't turn around but felt Chan's lingering gaze pressing against your back. You turned slightly to see through your shoulders but then turned around and walked away as if you didn't hear anything at all.
“That chick’s been here for the last four weeks.” Minho commented, his voice casual as he tipped back his can of Red Bull.
Chan didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the spot where you had disappeared into the shadows. His jaw tensed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his gaze.
He could still picture the way you had glanced over your shoulder for a split second, like you’d been caught but refused to admit it.
"Oi, Chan," Felix called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You losing your touch, mate?"
The group erupted in laughter, their cackles echoing against the emptying track.
“Maybe she’s got better taste than you thought,” I.N added, smirking as he leaned against his own bike.
"She’ll come around." Chan said smoothly, shrugging nonchalantly, the cocky edge in his voice masking the intrigue bubbling beneath the surface.
"Will she now?" Hyunjin mocked, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"
"Trust me," he said, his tone low and deliberate. "No one comes to my races four weeks in a row without a reason." A devilish smirk tipped the corner of his lips that made the guys exchange glances.
"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Changbin interrupted, pushing himself upright with a sharp look.
"You don't even know what I was thinking." Chan shot back, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair. "Besides, if she keeps coming back, she’s going to slip up eventually. And when she does…”
Changbin rolled his eyes at him and grabbed a Red Bull from the ice box. He knew that Chan wasn't going to listen to what he's gonna say anyway.
Chan walked towards his bike and hoped on, revving his engine as it roared to life and slipping his helmet on. He glanced at his friends, his smirk turning downright wicked.
"Then what?" Hyunjin asked, crossing his arms.
"She wanted my attention, so she got it. And I want something in return.”
With that, he sped off into the night, leaving the guys behind in a cloud of smoke and laughter.
***
"Three, two, one, let's gooo!..."
You kept scrolling through Instagram reels, nothing interesting that grabbed your attention.
But you couldn't stop thinking about Chan...
It's Saturday, four o'clock in the evening. His races start at five. You went through his Instagram and TikTok, creating a folder in your saves for his biking videos and you catch yourself rewatching his highlights again and again.
Were you guilty for stalking him online? A bit—but you couldn't stop it. His bike didn't even fascinate you anymore the way it did the first time. You just were feeling obsessed with him.
The race track was only a few blocks away from you and you couldn't help but think, could he have crossed your home? You never noticed it but now everytime you hear a speeding engine, you look out your window, hoping it's Chan.
Yeah you were pretty much obsessed.
You went back to Chan's account and scrolled down his feed, opening some of his old posts when suddenly the phone slipped out of your hand and fell on your face.
"Fuck!" You yelped, rubbing your forehead, eyes widening as you glanced at the screen in horror.
Oh fuck—
You accidentally liked a picture of him from two years ago.
The red heart stared back at you, mocking your clumsiness, your heart sank as panic took over.
“Oh, no, no, no…” you whispered, scrambling to unlike it. You tapped the heart again, watching it disappear, but the damage was already done. Your phone trembled in your hands as you stared at the post, your reflection visible in the darkened screen.
It was a picture of him leaning casually against his bike, wearing a tank top with his buff arms crossed, a majestically inked dragon flexing on his bicep.
"Shit," you muttered under your breath, clutching your forehead. Does he get notifications for old likes? Does Instagram even do that?
You sat up, your mind racing just as fast as his bike. He had half a million followers, so maybe he wouldn’t notice, right? But what if he did? What if he checked? What if he remembered your face from the track and connected the dots?
"Calm down," you whispered, trying to reason with yourself. "He probably won’t even notice."
But deep down, a small voice in the back of your mind said otherwise.
Because if there was one thing you’d learned about Chan from watching him race, it was that he noticed everything.
~
"She'll be here today." Chan said, tossing the Red Bull can in the trash and turning towards his friends.
Seungmin tilted his head, looking up from his phone, arching a skeptical brow. "Oh, so now you're a psychic?"
Chan rolled his eyes, leaning casually against his bike. “No. She's been coming every Saturday, there's no way she'll not come today."
“You’ve been stalking your stalker?” Felix chimed in, his deep voice carrying a note of amusement as he slipped his hands in the pocket of his pants.
Chan smirked, unbothered by the jab. “I don’t need to stalk. She makes herself obvious. Hood up, always at the same damn spot. Like clockwork.”
“Maybe she’s just here for the bikes,” Seungmin said with a shrug, going back to scrolling on his phone. Chan shook his head, his smirk widening.
Chan shook his head, his smirk widening. “Nah, it’s not the bikes anymore. Her eyes practically screamed busted when I whistled at her.”
“That’s because you’re fucking annoying.” Jisung piped up, sipping from his own can of soda. “If someone whistled at me in public, I’d leave too.”
The group laughed, but Chan’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the track like he was already envisioning you standing there.
"Race instead of me." Chan effortlessly tossed his keys at Changbin.
"What?" Changbin caught the keys with a sharp reflex, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"If she's really into the bikes, she wouldn't care if the rider is different. But if that's not the case..." His smirk grew wider.
"Then she'll know it's not me the second you hit the track." Chan finished, rolling his helmet between his hands. "She’s been watching me, not the bike. Let’s see if she’s as observant as I think."
Changbin raised an eyebrow, twirling the keys in his hand. “So, you’re basically using me as bait?”
“Not bait,” Chan corrected, handing Changbin his helmet and clapping him on the shoulder. “More like... a decoy. Just ride, keep it clean, and make it convincing. Wear my helmet, keep your head down, and let me handle the rest.”
“This is either genius or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” Felix said, shaking his head.
“Shut up and watch,” Chan said, his tone light but confident. He turned back to Changbin. “You good?”
Changbin sighed, slipping the helmet on. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t blame me if I win and your little stalker realizes you’re not as fast as you think.”
The group laughed again, but Chan was already focused, his gaze cutting across the other riders getting ready for the race and watching the crowd gather, waiting for his shadowed muse.
The air began getting slightly colder, riders hopping on their bikes getting ready for the race. Chan stood with the guys, his back facing the crowd and his face hidden with a hoodie, watching Changbin rev up the engine.
He gave a small thumbs to Bin who responded with his own one and held the handle, preparing to flash away.
You finally managed to slowly get in your spot blending in with the crowd, your usual hood on, hair in front to shield your face, eyes glued on the riders before you.
At this point it felt silly than anything else, sneaking around every Saturday like you were some undercover agent. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The magnetic pull Chan had on you was impossible to ignore, even if you didn’t fully understand it yourself.
Your eyes scanned the lineup of riders, automatically locking onto the sleek, black BMW S1000rr. The sound of its engine roaring to life sent a familiar thrill through you, but something felt... different tonight.
The rider atop the bike gave a sharp nod, helmet obscuring his face. You couldn’t tell, but the way he usually carried himself—effortless confidence paired with a hint of smugness—seemed oddly subdued.
Your heart sank slightly. Was he even here tonight?
You pushed the thought away, gripping the edge of your hoodie to ground yourself. Focus. It didn’t matter. You were here for the race, for the thrill, not for him.
At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself since the last four races.
The countdown began, the cheers of the crowd growing louder with each passing second. The sound of engines revving filled the air, and you found yourself leaning forward slightly, anticipation buzzing through your veins.
Three... Two... One—
The riders shot forward, a blur of color and speed tearing down the track. Your eyes stayed glued to the black bike, trying to shake the unease gnawing at the back of your mind.
Is it him?
You watched curiously for the first two rounds, pushing away the feeling that it's not Chan but when it was the third round and you still didn't see his dramatic drift at the curved corners of the track, you were sure that it really wasn't Chan racing.
You leaned backwards exhaling and pulling out your phone, your interest in the race quietly dying down.
"I caught you princess..." A smug grin spread across Chan's face who had been secretly watching you but the race.
Hyunjin, who had also been watching you with Chan, waiting for him to be wrong, sighed dramatically, pulling a crumpled fifty out of his pocket and slapping it into Minho’s palm.
"Unbelievable," he muttered, shooting Chan a side glance. "She really is here for you man."
Chan chuckled, low and confident. “Told you,” he said, brushing past them as he made his way toward you.
You were distracted with the reels playing on your phone to notice until he sat next you, your eyes fell on that unmistakable silver bracelet you recognised instantly.
Your heart pounded in your ears.
“Enjoying the race?” a low, teasing voice asked, so close you could feel the faint vibration of it in your chest. You stiffened, your head snapping up.
And there he was. Bang Chan.
Sitting casually next to you, leaning back like he owned not just the seat, but the entire universe. His hoodie was slightly pushed back, giving you a perfect view of his sharp jawline and those maddening dimples that tugged at his smirk.
For the first time, you noticed how sharp his features were up close—perfectly sculpted, how his lashes framed those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you.
You swallowed hard, your nerves threatening to spill over, but you kept your guard up and tried to calm your racing heart.
“You okay there, princess?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe... me?”
You quickly snapped out of it, your face heating. “I’m fine,” you said, sitting straighter and forcing your voice to sound steady. "And I think you've mistaken me, I don't really know you."
Your lie was so bland, it practically hung in the air like a neon sign screaming caught red-handed.
Chan raised an eyebrow, playfully scoffing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Is that so?” he said, his tone laced with mock sincerity. He leaned in slightly, and you caught a faint whiff of leather and something distinctly him—sharp, clean, and deathly intoxicating.
“Yeah,” you replied, your voice firm despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “I don’t really follow bikers.”
“Hmm.” He tapped his chin theatrically, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Funny, because someone who doesn’t follow bikers somehow managed to stumble across my page. And, oh, what’s this?”
He mimicked scrolling on an invisible phone, his grin wicked. “Liked a post from two years ago? Now, that’s dedication for someone who doesn’t know me.”
Your stomach did a somersault, and for a moment, you were certain your face betrayed you. But you quickly composed yourself, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms. “That was an accident,” you said coolly, trying to ignore the way your pulse thundered in your ears.
Chan tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “So you accidentally clicked on my profile, accidentally scrolled back two years, and accidentally double-tapped? Seems like a lot of accidents for one person.”
You huffed, glaring at him. “Are you always this full of yourself?”
“Only when I’m right.” He shot back smoothly, his dimpled grin so close now, you could count the faint freckles dotting his cheekbones.
You could do nothing to calm your racing heart as Chan adjusted his seat and leaned back, watching whoever was racing in his place. He didn't say a word after that, just stayed silent and concentrated on the track.
You kept glancing at him with the corner of your eyes without fully turning, focusing on the race as well, but you could have sworn that he could hear your pounding beats in your chest over the screeching tires.
Of course whoever was riding in on behalf of Chan won tonight's race in an equally dramatic drift, you caught Chan smirking and nodding proudly. You were unsure what to do and stood in your place while the crowd began standing up, then when you were about to leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist.
"Where are you off to now?" His dark eyes glinted under the dim lights, mischief oozing from every inch of his expression.
“You’ve been sneaking in to watch the race for weeks, and now that you’ve got what you wanted, you’re just gonna leave? That’s kinda rude, don’t you think?”
You bit your lip, debating your next words. His confidence was infuriating, but it was also… dangerously attractive. Finally, you sighed, meeting his gaze head-on.
“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “Maybe I did. So what?”
Chan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your honesty, before breaking into a wide grin. “Well, that’s a first. Didn’t think you’d actually own up to it.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?” you shot back, your tone laced with feigned impatience, though your pulse still raced from his lingering touch.
Chan tilted his head, eyeing you thoughtfully, then exhaled a sharp breath. “Don’t you think it’s time you saw what it’s like on the track?”
You blinked at him, your breath hitching. “What are you talking about?”
He straightened up, fixing his hoodie. “I’m offering you a ride, princess. Around the track. Are you up for it, or not?”
The sass in his tone lit a fire in you. You loved bike rides, the rush of speed, the wind in your hair—but doing it with him? That felt like stepping into dangerous territory. Still, your pride wouldn’t let you back down.
You crossed your arms, feigning indifference. “Fine. Let’s see if your riding skills are as good as your ego.”
Chan chuckled, the sound deep and low, and it sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Careful what you wish for, princess,” he said, stepping closer. “You might not be able to handle it.”
You scoffed, though your heart was pounding. “We’ll see about that.”
You followed Chan as he descended the stairs and made his way towards his friends, all of them surrounded with their own bikes, cans of Red Bull, wearing leather jackets.
“Yo, I.N!” Chan called out as you approached, his voice carrying over the noise of the dispersing crowd. He looked up from his phone, his expression curious.
“What’s up?” I.N asked, his brows lifting when he saw you trailing behind Chan.
Chan jerked his chin toward I.N’s helmet, which was resting on the bike parked beside him. “Hand that over. Our guest needs it.”
I.N blinked, clearly surprised. “Wait, she’s riding with you?”
“Finally got yourself a passenger?” Minho, who was leaning casually against his own bike, snorted.
“Just a little gratitude to her for being so kind and showing up to my races every week.” Chan replied smoothly, throwing you a sidelong glance.
Your cheeks flushed crimson but you didn't say anything. You couldn't because you felt like your throat was shut tight.
The group erupted into low chuckles, Minho gave Chan a knowing look, shaking his head in mock disbelief.
“Don’t mess up my helmet,” I.N said, handing it over. “It's my favourite one.”
You hesitated for a moment, then took it, your fingers brushing against his. “Don't worry, I won't.” You said softly.
The group watched you curiously as if they were waiting for you to make a mistake but Chan’s gaze was the only one you cared about. He stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear.
“Nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk.
You lifted your chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Not even a little.”
His smirk deepened. “Good. Don't hold back and enjoy the ride.”
Changbin threw the keys at Chan and handed him the helmet, moving aside revealing the sleek black BMW, shining under the bright full moon light.
Chan got on the bike and you climbed up behind him. The tension crackled between you like static, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to throttle him—or hold on tighter.
The engine roared to life, the deep, guttural sound vibrating through your body. Your grip on the seat tightened as Chan revved the engine, his dimpled smirk still firmly in place as he glanced back over his shoulder at you.
With a swift twist of his wrist, the bike shot forward, the sudden burst of speed forcing a gasp from your lips. Instinctively, your hands flew to his waist, gripping tightly as the world blurred around you.
The track stretched out like a silver ribbon under the moonlight, the cool night air whipping past your face, your hair dancing in the wind like a wild, untamed spirit. Chan maneuvered the bike with practiced ease, leaning into sharp turns and accelerating down straightaways.
The bike slowed slightly as he leaned into another turn, and you took the chance to glance at him. The confidence in his posture, the way his shoulders moved with the bike—it was magnetic.
“Enjoying the view?” he teased, his voice cutting through the wind.
You scowled, your cheeks heating. “Focus on the road, Chan.”
“I always do,” he replied smoothly. “But you’re making it a little hard, princess.”
Your grip on his waist tightened involuntarily, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you might regret. The speed continued until Chan slowed down, pulling to a stop at the other side of the track, the starting point looking like the size of an ant.
The sudden stillness was deafening compared to the roar of the engine moments ago. The cool night air clung to your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between you and Chan.
He shifted slightly, his body still straddling the bike as he turned his head toward you, his dark eyes glinting under the pale glow of the moon. “Tight grip you’ve got there, princess,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
“Didn’t think you’d want to hold on that bad.”
***
“Ah-Chan—” your moans poured out of your lips like an erotic symphony, blood rushing down like a flood bursting out of a dam as you felt his length inside of you, breasts bouncing up and down.
Oh you were holding on that bad.
“Ride my cock, baby. Good girl.” Chan hissed, your pussy clenching him so nicely it drove him wild.
What started off him not knowing your existence to getting to know eachother to now him fucking the senses out of you escalated fast.
You can't lie, you did have fantasies about him during the nights when you scrolled through his socials. Imagining how he would be in bed. Those dirty nights when you moaned his name, imagining his cock replacing your vibrator.
Would he be gentle? A complete opposite to the menace he was on the road?
Boy you were wrong. He was anything but gentle.
He was rough. Hard. Strong. And you enjoyed that very much.
Chan's hand fisted your hair as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing yours drinking the taste of you. Your fingers clung onto his shoulder, nails grooving scars on his smooth skin, rocking your hips for more friction.
His cock filled you completely, stretching you in ways that made your vision blur. Every upward snap of his hips drove you closer to the edge, the friction against your walls making your toes curl.
“Chan—” you whimpered, breaking the kiss to gasp for air, your head falling back as his pace quickened.
He didn’t let up. If anything, the sight of you unraveling only spurred him on. His mouth trailed down your throat, teeth grazing your skin before he latched onto the sensitive spot just above your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
His lips latched on your erect nipple, sucking and licking on it, the obscene sounds of him groaning feeling like music to your ears.
Wetness gushed down your thighs and onto his, a sinful symphony of wet, desperate noises that only fueled the fire between you.
“So fucking perfect for me.” he praised, his lips brushing against your ear as he pinched and played with your slick nipple that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.
You felt so dirty and depraved, shamelessly riding his cock, his praises turning you on even more.
“Should I punish this pussy for stalking me baby? Hmm?” His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit, triggering an orgasm to break free just from his words.
He already “punished” you for stalking him by bending you over and fucking you to oblivion on his bike a week ago but he is so cocky and mean, he loved using that every chance he got.
“Or should I fuck you from behind and wreck you till you make a sweet mess all over my cock?”
Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your release slammed through you, your body convulsing and your walls clenched around him, drawing a deep, guttural moan from his lips.
You couldn't even process the aftershocks of your climax and before you knew it, you were on all fours, Chan's eyes glued on your glistening slick pussy, the angry tip of his cock grazing and teasing your swollen folds.
“Chan— mngh,” you pushed back against him, whining with need, feeling the anticipation rebuild as you kept feeling the tip nudge against your entrance.
“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice a dark purr that sent a shiver down your spine. “Barely gave you time to breathe, and here you are, already begging for me to ruin you again.”
Your fingers clenched the sheets, your body trembling from the mix of frustration and desire. “Please, Chan,” you breathed, voice muffled and desperate.
“Please, what?” he sneered, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his silver chain and bracelet on his wrist touching your skin, cold.
His breath was hot against your ear, and his hand slid up your body to grip your throat. “You want me to fuck you? Say it.”
Your cheeks burned, but the heat between your legs overshadowed any embarrassment. “I need you to fuck me, Chan,” you whispered, then louder, “Ruin me. Wreck me.”
He groaned at your words, his hand tightening slightly around your throat. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”
Without another word, he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, knocking the air from your lungs. Your hands flew forward to steady yourself, a gasp tearing from your throat as he set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours with a force that had the bed creaking beneath.
“Look at you,” he continued, his tone dripping with arrogance. “So fucking cock-drunk, you can’t even think straight.”
You tried to speak, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust that made you cry out. His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he pounded into you mercilessly.
Every stroke hitting deeper, harder, until you were a squirming mess beneath him. His balls slapped against your clit, an almost tight hand around your throat had your vision going white.
His teeth sank into your soft skin, leaving a ruthless mark on your shoulder and his hand met with a sharp slap! on your ass. The pleasure of it overlapped the pain, relentless drilling on your sloppy cunt that made you grab the headboard.
“FUCK! I can't—” Your cries echoed off the walls of your bedroom, loud and feral.
“You can’t what?” Chan snarled, his voice laced with mockery as he dragged his cock out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that spot and your skin meeting with another sharp slap!
His teeth grazed your earlobe as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place. “Can’t take me? Too much for this tight little cunt?”
“Y-yes—no—I don’t know!” you sobbed, your fingers clawing at the headboard as your body quivered beneath him.
His hand slid up on your throat, pulling you upright so your back was flush against his chest. The new angle made you scream, his cock hitting even deeper, harder, the relentless pace leaving you on the verge of tears.
“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “Scream for me, baby. Let the whole world know who’s making you feel this good.”
The way his cock kept hitting the right spots made you climb higher and higher, the knot tightening, only seconds away from snapping, your whimpers and moans poured out endlessly.
“I'm gonna come— I'm—”
You couldn't even finish your sentence as the second orgasm left you shaking, trembling and reeling beneath him. Your walls clamped down on his cock, pulling him deeper until he spilled his seed in you.
“Fuck.” Chan groaned, his grip on your throat loosening as he chased his own release. His hips stuttered, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips, cock twitching as he pumped you full.
Breaths ragged and heavy, the room was mixed in scents of mint and sex. Chan collapsed forward, but braced himself to avoid crushing you beneath his weight.
“You did so good, baby,” He murmured, his voice low and thick, trying to catch his breath while he nipped your sensitive skin.
Both of you were drenched in sweat, the mingling of your bodies making the heat in the room unbearable, yet neither of you moved.
His cock softened inside you, but he didn’t pull out. Instead, he just leaned forward kissing the nape of your neck and shifted slightly, you winced at the feeling of him still inside you, oversensitivity making your nerves spark.
Slowly your bodies untangled and he fell on his back next to you, the both of you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of what just happened settling in.
You gently turned your head to see Chan, who was lost in his own thoughts. He felt you watching him and he turned too, a soft smile tipping the corner of his lips, his fingers brushing a few strands of hair from your face.
His eyes trailed down your body, skin peppered with his bite marks and hickeys, something unusually painful stung in his chest even though he had never felt that before.
You moved closer to him, pecking a sweet kiss on his nose that made him knit his brows smiling.
“I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me if you think you did.” You said reassuringly.
Chan let out a soft breath, his smile faltering for a moment as he studied your face. His fingers ghosted over a particularly dark bruise on your collarbone, his touch featherlight.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, his teasing edge nowhere to be found.
You rolled your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.” He huffed out a laugh, the sound vibrating against your cheek and kissed your forehead.
Chan got up from the bed and carried you in his arms towards the shower, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a content sigh as your head rested against his chest.
Under the spraying water, the steam curled around the two of you, but his touch was what kept you warm.
He grabbed a washcloth and the soap, lathering it before starting at your shoulders. His touch was slow and deliberate, careful not to press too hard as he cleaned every inch of your skin.
When he reached your bruised hips, his lips ghosted over one of the marks that made your heart flutter.
Once he was satisfied, he handed you the cloth, smirking faintly. “Your turn, princess.”
You laughed softly, taking it from him and mimicking his careful actions. You then saw the scratch marks and crescent scars you had left on his skin, etched like tiny badges.
Your fingers ghosted over them as you cleaned him, a pang of guilt flashing through your chest.
“Sorry about these,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Chan chuckled, his smirk softening into something warmer. “Don’t be. I like them."
Heat rose up your cheeks and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.
When you reached his bicep, you couldn’t resist tracing the outline of his tattoo, your fingers brushing over the ink that decorated his skin.
“You really are full of surprises,” you said, your voice soft.
His brow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “The rough biker with the soft side. Didn’t think I’d ever see it.”
He smirked, pulling you closer under the spray of water. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”
You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway, letting the water cascade over both of you. Pearl-like drops of water slid down your bodies, your back pressed against the cold titles as Chan's mouth claimed yours.
After the shower Chan changed into his clothes and you slipped into comfy sweats, he grabbed his keys and helmet from the living room, walking toward the door with a cool, confident stride.
“My race is on Saturday,” He said, slipping on his helmet. “I hope you'll be there, princess.”
A chuckle escaped from your lips, your mind going back to how you went watch his races every Saturday without him knowing who you were.
“I guess I’ll see you there, then.”
Chan nodded, opening the front door and stepping out, you watched him climb on his bike, revving the engine back to life. With a twist on the handle, he zoomed out into the night, flashing away into the stretching darkness leaving a trail of himself behind.
You couldn’t help but think that stumbling across that video online of a certain biker had definitely been the best misstep of your life.
Genre: Exes to lovers, second chance love, fluff, smut
Summary: Even a year after your divorce, you can't get over Chris. You keep seeing him all the time because you're co parenting your daughter, and you see that he's still the same man you fell in love with. And you both haven't moved on at all.
It’s late. Your apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator, as you sit on the sofa, nursing a glass of wine when you hear the doorbell.
You find Chris on your doorstep, punctual as usual, holding your toddler, Mia, against his chest, her small body curled into him like she’s still a newborn.
Your heart does a funny little lurch. It must be the wine. Definitely the wine.
“She fell asleep in the car,” he whispers, stepping inside. He is still dressed in his formals, and your traitorous eyes drink him in.
“Rough day?” he asks softly, noting the wine and the way your shoulders sag.
“Something like that,” you mutter, gesturing to Mia’s room. “You can put her to bed.”
Chris nods, carrying her toward her bedroom. He emerges moments later, quietly shutting her door behind him. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and a little too comforting.
“What happened?” he asks, folding his arms against his chest.
“It’s nothing,” you say, but Chris raises an eyebrow.
“Bullshit,” he counters smoothly, sitting next to you on the sofa. “You know you can't lie to me.”
You roll your eyes but relent and say, “Work politics. Same old garbage.”
Chris winces, before he leans forward and says, “You’re too good for them, you know that, right?”
Those are simple words, but they hit harder than they should. You glance at him, something raw flickering in your chest.
“Oh please,” you murmur, looking away.
“What?” He asks. “It’s true.”
You don’t answer, reaching instead for the bottle of wine. Chris doesn’t stop you as you pour a second glass.
“Here, celebrate my failures with me,” you tease, trying to ease your own heart. “I don't feel like wallowing in self pity alone tonight.”
He snorts, shaking his head, but takes the glass.
“You're so dramatic,”
“And yet, you were married to me for five years,” you quip, with a grin.
The wine loosen you both faster than it should. Soon, you’re reminiscing about Mia’s first words, and the road trip to Busan where the car broke down, and you ended up making out in the car till Minho came to rescue you both.
“I miss this,” you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Talking...and everything,”
You and Chris had been good friends before you both fell in love. It had been the most beautiful years of your life before things started falling apart.
He doesn’t say anything, but reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s subtle, but it sets your heart racing. Like always. Even a year after your divorce, you clearly haven't moved on.
“I miss it too,” he finally says, his voice low. “All the time.”
“Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” you mumble.
He leans in, closer than he’s been in a more than year, his dark eyes locked onto yours.
“You think I don’t mean it? You think I ever stopped wanting you?”
Your breath catches as he closes the distance between you. His lips hover inches from yours as he says, “I never stopped…”
It’s reckless, stupid, maybe even a mistake - but you don’t care. You let him close the gap, his lips crashing into yours, and everything you’ve been holding back spills over.
The kiss is messy and heated - all the pent-up frustration and longing coming crashing down. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt against him, your arms circling his neck. His lips move against yours desperately, like he is afraid to let go.
When you finally break apart, breathless and a little lost, Chris brushes a thumb over your cheek.
“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper.
“No. But it’s a start.”
It’s intoxicating - the feel of him, the heat radiating off his body. You both pull each other close again, his lips moving down your neck, leaving soft kisses.
But somewhere in between, reality raises its nagging head and you falter.
“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back slightly.
Chris freezes, his breathing ragged, as he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“This is… reckless,” you whisper, though your heart won't allow you to let go of him.
He exhales sharply, leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. “Y/N, I -”
“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice trembling. “I don't want us to mess up again.”
He gives you a look and you think he might argue. But then he sighs. He looks exhausted and a little heart broken. But he stands up and says, “You’re right. We can’t… not like this.”
“You have to go.” You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.
He stares at you for a long moment, then he nods.
“Right. I’ll… I’ll call tomorrow to check on Mia.” he says, clearing his throat.
You nod, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. Because this feels even harder than the first time.
“Goodnight, Chris.” you whisper.
“Goodnight,” he says, his voice rough.
As soon as he’s gone, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You sink onto the couch, your face in your hands, and you cry until your throat is raw. You missed him. And you still hate yourself for letting this happen.
It starts with a look. It always does.
The next time Chris comes by, it’s late again, Mia’s tiny backpack slung over his shoulder, and her hand clutching his tightly as they walk to your door. You try to play it cool, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed and a polite smile fixed on your face.
But then he looks at you and the air shifts.
“Hi,” he says, his voice lower than it needs to be, his gaze lingering on your mouth.
“Hi,” your voice shakes but it's soft.
Mia is already running into her room, way too excited to get to her new playset, and Chris watches her for a moment, before his gaze settles on you.
And then there are no words exchanged as his hands grab you towards him and he's pushing you against the kitchen counter, kissing you.
You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand slips down your back, cupping your butt before pulling you flush against himself.
“Is this going to keep happening?” you ask breathlessly, as he kisses down your neck. Past your collarbone. Down your chest. His face is buried in your breasts, before he kisses them over your t-shirt.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him, and you gasp as he bites your nipple over the fabric and a dull pleasure courses through your body.
“What?” he murmurs, his lips back on yours again.
“This,” you say between kisses.
He kisses you again, rougher than before and says,
“Tell me to stop,” he says, and his hands cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes.
You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you pull him closer, your bodies so familiar with each other.
It becomes a pattern after that. Anytime he comes over - whether he’s dropping off Mia or picking her up - it happens.
Sometimes it’s rushed and frantic, like the time he cornered you in the kitchen, your lips colliding as the coffee maker sputtered in the background. And other times, it’s slow and sweet. Especially when he knows you're a bit down or you're having a bad day.
You don’t talk about it. It’s easier to pretend this is just an outlet, a way to scratch the itch that never seems to fade.
You tell yourself this is only because he's the only man you've been with for so damn long. You two had married so young. You hate thinking about it.
So you don't. But deep down, you know it’s more than just sex. But you’re not ready to acknowledge it. Neither is he.
Friday evenings with Minho are sacred. He's your best friend, your big brother, your pillar of support. The one person who held you up during your separation from Chris. The only person who knows that you still loved him with everything in you.
Minho brings take out, you both talk, watch a movie, sometimes two. And fall asleep on each other because obviously, you both were the laziest besties in the world.
You've been trying to tell Chris to leave, but he is busy pounding into you. You stand with your hands grips the kitchen counter as he thrust into you from the back, his hands holding onto your hips tightly.
“He's gonna be here any minute!” You hiss, and Chris moves faster, and more rough. You try not to moan as waves of pleasure hit you, and you clench so hard around him, he's shuddering with his release.
“Fuck-” He groans, pressing his face against the back of your neck before slowly pulling out of you.
You both clean up and look somewhat presentable when the doorbell rings. You sigh because Minho will see right through you.
And he won't let you live this down. Ever.
You glance at Chris before opening the door. And Minho steps in already ranting about his day and he stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Chris.
Well that's a first - Minho being at a loss of words.
You freeze, your cheeks burning, while Chris awkwardly shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Hi, Minho,” Chris says, giving him a quick nod.
Minho doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks between the two of you, his lips twitching in amusement, before slowly smirking.
“Hey, Chris.” Then, he strolls further inside saying, “Don’t mind me. I'm just here for my niece.”
He disappears into the living room, leaving you and Chris standing there like a couple of teenagers caught doing something bad.
“I should, uh, get going,” he says, though he doesn’t move.
“Right, yeah,” you stammer, smoothing your hands over your skirt nervously.
“See you on Sunday,” he says, opening the door.
“See you,” you manage, your heart racing again, and Chris flashes you a smile before leaving.
The moment the door shuts, Minho reappears, a wicked grin plastered across his face.
“Soooo…”
“Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re clearly fucking Chris freaking Bang and you want me to not start?”
“Minho,” you warn, making a beeline for the living room, and he follows you with that menacing grin still in place.
“So, when exactly did this ‘we’re just co-parents’ arrangement turn into ‘we’re fuck buddies again’?”
“It’s not like that!” you protest, though your face feels like it’s on fire.
“Uh-huh.” He says, starting to plate up the food. “You two were totally not flushed and guilty. Try again.”
You bury your face in a throw pillow.
“Linooooo stopppp!! It’s complicated.” you whine.
“It always is with you two,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re like Ross and Rachel, except somehow more frustrating.”
You peek out from behind the pillow, glaring at him.
“We’re not -”
“Don’t even think about saying you’re not into him,” Minho interrupts, pointing his chopsticks at you. “I know you, Y/N.”
You open your mouth to argue but immediately close it, because he's stating the obvious and there is no real use of denying it.
“I’m just saying, if you’re going to jump your ex-husband, at least warn me so I can avoid walking into it.” Minho smirks, leaning back smugly.
You groan, throwing the pillow at him. He dodges it easily, laughing as you sink further into the couch, hands covering your face.
“Seriously, though,” he says after a moment, his tone softening. “Are you okay? I mean, this whole Chris thing… are you sure about this?”
You sigh, staring up at the ceiling.
“I don’t know. I love him, Minho, and I swear I tried to move on…but, everytime I look at him…he's the same person I fell in love with. He's not a monster. He's a great father. He's a good friend. And.. and I don't even know why…” Your voice cracks a bit as you struggle with your thoughts. “Then we talked, and it’s like… like nothing’s changed. But everything has changed, and it’s so… messy.”
“Messy’s okay. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Whether that’s with Chris or someone else.” he says softly. “If you're sure, then go for it.”
His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be honest with Chris. To let go of the pride and the fear and just… try again. Because God, you really want to.
Sunday arrives, and Mia is up early, ready for her day with her daddy. She even picks out her favorite toy to take along with her and insists on wearing the sparkly dress she knows Chris loves.
When Chris texts, you think it's to let you know that he's on his way. But it wasn't.
Chris: Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule Mia’s time for today?
You blink at it for a moment, heart sinking slightly. You don’t question it - life happens, after all. But Mia doesn’t take it as well.
“Daddy’s not coming?” she asks, her lower lip trembling and her little shoulders slump in disappointment.
You kneel down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.
“No, sweetheart. He’s just busy today, but we’ll see him soon. How about we have a girls' day instead?”
She looks up at you with big tear filled eyes.
“Girls' day? With Mommy?” she asks, and you nod, pulling her into a tight hug.
“That’s right. Just you and me. Let’s make it special.” You say, kissing her cheek and getting on with it.
You spend the afternoon indulging in ice cream, shopping for new art supplies, and of course, toys. You also take her to an indoor play area that she loves, and by the time you get home, Mia is falling asleep in your arms.
You carry her to her room, tuck her into bed, and she’s out within minutes. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you step out of her room.
The apartment falls into a quiet, peaceful lull. You wash up quickly and sit in front of the TV, hoping to watch an episode of that show you've been trying to watch for a while now. It's not exactly easy with a toddler around.
But around fifteen minutes into the show, you hear the sound of the doorbell. You open the door, and there stands Chris, holding a small box in his hand.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low, as he meets your gaze. “I'm sorry about today. I brought her favorite cupcakes.”
Your heart does a little flip at the sight of him.
“That’s sweet of you.” you say, “But she's already asleep.”
“Oh…I was hoping to see her before....ah,” Chris says with a little sigh.
You give him a small, sympathetic shrug.
“It's okay, she can eat them tomorrow,” You say with a smile and step aside to let him in.
He nods, stepping inside and setting the box of cupcakes on the kitchen counter. There’s disappointment in his eyes and it stirs something deep inside you.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he says, and it feels like he’s apologizing for more than just missing his day with Mia.
“It’s really okay. Mia missed you, but we still had a good day. She was really happy.” you tell him.
Chris’s gaze lingers on you a moment too long before he says,“I feel like I keep letting you both down.”
“Chris, please don't say that,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “We know you’re doing your best. I know you’re trying.”
He nods, though he doesn't look completely convinced.
“So,” you say, trying to keep it light, “I’m about to have dinner… want to join me?”
It’s an innocent enough invitation. Casual. Polite. But the way he looks at you gives you an idea of what's about to happen next.
Chris takes a step forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and then his lips are on yours. The kiss deepens almost instantly and he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together.
You stifle a sob, and Chris is quickly pulling back to look at you, tipping your chin up to see you better.
“Baby, please don't-”
“I love you-”
There is a moment of silence - Chris's eyes soften as he watches the tears fall. You can't believe you just said that. But this whole thing was getting more and more difficult to manage. The constant need to be close to him. Waiting for the days he spent with Mia, just so you could see him.
And then he's kissing you again, mumbling a hundred ‘I love yous’ you against your lips, and the next thing you know, he's scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards your bedroom.
He closes the door gently (so that it doesn't wake Mia), and places you on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you on the floor.
“Baby, I never stopped loving you. And there isn't a day where I don't regret letting you walk out of my life… we could've handled things better…and everytime I came here for Mia, I wished you would just ask me to stay. I selfishly wished that you wouldn't move on.” he says, his voice soft and his touch even softer as he placed his hands on your knees.
“I don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you. If you give me another chance, I promise I'll not let you down. I'll spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you that you're my everything… and I will be here for you, always.”
You nod and tears falling more rapidly now, and throw your arms around Chris's neck, and he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing against your neck as he holds you close.
“I love you, baby I'm sorry-” You cry, your arms tightening around him. “I didn't know what to do…the baby, the job, there was so much noise, and I wasn't well…I'm sorry I didn't see that you were suffering too-” you hiccup through your tears.
You feel his hand moving up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you.
“I know baby, I'm not mad. We were both suffering. We were both hurt. But we're here now.” Chris whispers.
“I love you, I want you back. Please don't leave me again-”
Chris kisses you again, stealing your breath away.
“No more crying over me ok?” He says with a soft smile. “I'm not going anywhere…I love you and Mia so much, I am going to be here-”
More kisses follow and you move back into the bed, and he follows, both of you pulling at each other's clothes.
He trails his lips down your neck, and it feels like the world outside your bedroom might as well not exist. His hands glide over your skin, gentle, but just as desperate.
You can feel the way he trembles against you, the way his breath catches as your hands move down his chest. And then when he slips inside, as gentle as ever, you can't help but cry, because as beautiful as the moment feels, you realize just how miserable you have been without him.
Chris moves slowly at first, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds. He peppers so many kisses on your lips and neck, like he can't kiss you enough.
His fingers work on your clit as he moves, and soon your body shudders as your orgasm ripples through you. You moan softly, and it obviously has him crashing down too.
You don't let go, because truth be told, you're afraid he's going to leave. And tonight? You don't want him to. Actually, you don't want to see him walk out that door ever again.
And Chris isn't planning to, because he holds you just as tight, promising softly that he'll be here when you wake up in the morning. And you let your eyes fall shut, trusting him.
You both decide to take it slow, for Mia's sake.
Chris doesn’t officially move in, yet, but his presence is…undeniable. There are more of his things around the house, and more than anything else, it's the way Mia’s laughter grows louder every time he walks through the door. You’ve caught yourself smiling more too - wide, genuine smiles you hadn’t worn in ages.
You love watching him help Mia with her bedtime routine, fixing squeaky hinges around the house you’ve ignored for months, and finding every excuse to stay a bit longer.
And Minho? Well, he’s having the time of his life.
---
One Friday evening, you’re all gathered in the living room. Chris is helping Mia build a tower with her blocks while you sip wine and half-listen to Minho’s dramatic story about his latest “date gone wrong.”
“And then she said she didn’t like cats. Cats, Y/N. Can you imagine the nerve?” Minho says, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks as he digs into the takeout he insisted on bringing.
“Oh my God” you say, laughing as Chris adds, “Sounds horrible, but maybe try not to bring home every stray you find?”
“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to steal my best friend away. Again.” Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at Chris.
“Jealous, Minho?” Chris quips, and Minho scoffs, leaning back dramatically.
“Of you? Please.” Minho says. “But whatever this setup is, it's sure looks promising.”
You freeze mid-sip of your wine, while Chris raises an eyebrow.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.
“I’m just saying, for exes, you two sure look cozy.” Minho grins, and your cheeks burn, as you try not to look at Chris.
“Minho…” you warn.
“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m rooting for you,” Minho says, winking before turning back to Mia. “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll adopt Mia. Because you two are idiots. And we're done dealing with you. Sorry, not sorry.”
Mia giggles at the mention of her name before getting back to her game.
---
Later that night, after Minho has left (eyeing you mischievously because Chris was still there) and Mia is asleep, you and Chris are clearing up the kitchen.
“You know,” he says, his voice low, “Minho isn’t wrong.”
“About what?” You ask, glancing at him, wiping your hands on a dish towel.
“About us. About this.” Chris says, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.
Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at him, watching him push off the counter and walk towards you.
The towel slips from your hands as his fingers brush against your cheek, and his lips land on yours.
It’s slow at first, warm and tender, but it doesn’t take long for it to snap and you're both pulling each other closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your body responding to his touch like it always has.
He pauses, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.
“I love you,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.
“I love you too,” you admit, and he smiles, his dimples making an appearance and your heart races as you reach up to run your fingers over it.
He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second of it. And at that moment, this doesn't really feel like a second chance.
It’s the beginning of everything you’ve ever wanted.
The smell of pancakes fills the house as sunlight filters through the kitchen windows. Chris stands at the stove, a spatula in one hand, flipping golden-brown pancakes onto a plate. He’s wearing his usual gray shorts and a fitted black T-shirt. His hair is messy, a sign that he’s only been up for about twenty minutes, and he’s humming softly to himself as he works.
Mia sits at the table, still in her pajamas, happily coloring into a giant coloring book. This is such a dream. You lean against the counter, sipping your coffee, watching Chris with a faint smile that you haven’t been able to shake since he stayed over last night.
For the first time… in a very long time.
And then, the doorbell rings. You frown, setting down your coffee.
“Expecting someone?” He asks and you shake your head, walking to the door and opening it to find your mum standing there, a purse slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face.
“Mum?” you say, blinking in surprise.
“Surprise, sweetheart!” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to see my girls, and I brought muffins!”
She holds up a bakery bag, grinning, then stops dead in her tracks.
Her gaze falls on Chris, who’s just turned around from the stove, spatula still in hand, his expression frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
“Oh,” your mom says.
There's silence for a second before Mia screeches, “Grandmaaaaaaaa!!!”
Your mum picks Mia up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before asking if she could play in her room for sometime. Mia pouts, but runs off with a muffin.
Her eyes narrow slightly, taking in how casual Chris looks, his messy hair, and the way he just seems to be part of the scene.
“Good morning, mum,” Chris says smoothly, recovering faster than you could've thought.
He smiles, dimples flashing, as he asks, “Pancakes?”
Your mum raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. She folds her arms, looking at you.
“Y/N… what’s going on here?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” you start, suddenly feeling like a child again.
“Mhm.” She gives you a look that says she doesn’t believe you for a second. “You’re telling me it’s normal for your ex-husband to be in your kitchen, making pancakes, looking like he just rolled out of bed?”
“Technically, I did just roll out of bed,” Chris says, unable to resist.
You shoot him a glare, but he has already turned back to the stove, hiding a smirk.
“Y/N?” Your mom’s eyes narrow further.
“It’s… kind of...,” you say finally, rubbing the back of your neck.
“Yes?” she prompts, looking from you to Chris and then back at you. You think she's going to give you a nice big lecture about responsibility. But she lets out a sigh, her posture softening.
“You know,” she says, her tone gentler now, “I always thought the two of you were good for each other. When you got divorced, I was shocked and devastated - for you, for Mia.” She pauses, her eyes locking with yours. “But if you’re giving this another try… I just want to make sure you’re happy, sweetheart. That you’re doing this for the right reasons.”
“I know I messed up before. I know I hurt your daughter. But I love her. I always have, and I’m doing everything I can to show her - and Mia - that I’m here to stay. I realize that I need them more than they need me…so yeah,”
Your mum’s gaze softens as she studies him, and then she looks at you.
“And you, Y/N? Are you happy?”
You glance at Chris, who’s watching you with that steady loving gaze that’s always made you feel safe and sure, and you nod.
“Yeah, Mum. I am.”
Your mom smiles, stepping forward to press a kiss to your cheek.
“Well, then. I suppose I’ll have to stick around for breakfast. Those pancakes smell amazing.”
Chris grins and gets back to work, and your mum nods, making her way in to properly greet her granddaughter again.
Just as she disappears, Chris slides up beside you, his hand brushing yours as you start setting the table for breakfast.
“That went better than expected,” he murmurs, his voice low.
“You’ve always been her favorite, you know.” You glance at him, your lips twitching into a smile.
He smirks, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip a beat.
“Good to know I still am.” He pecks your lips quickly before getting back to work.
You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as your mum comes back with Mia in her arms. And you all sit around the table and enjoy breakfast.
It’s chaotic and imperfect, but it's home. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be. All the scattered pieces of you finally fit.
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