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Misplaced Lens Cap
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Love Begins
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One Nice Bug Per Day
Discoholic 🪩
Cosimo Galluzzi
we're not kids anymore.
occasionally subtle
oozey mess
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AnasAbdin
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@resi4skz
Hello! I'm Resi and I write mostly skz fanfics!
As you see from my masterlist, my ultimate bias is Bang Chan (but bias wrecked by other members on a daily basis).
I love feedbacks and comments on my stories! Last but not the least, enjoy my unhinged posts :)
Requests are OPEN
I'm also on Wattpad where my other fanfics are.
Masterlist
Caramel // Sleep Token
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥
And they ask me // Is it going good in the garden? // I say I'm lost but I beg no pardon
Hi! Hello!
I'm slowly coming back from being MIA for so long. I'm working on my fanfics whenever I have the time. It will be a while till I start posting new stuff. But this will be my 3rd year as a STAY! I'vw also been into Sleep Token lately!
But yes! I will be back soon 🤘🏻
• not wearing a bra around Stray Kids | Hyung line
Notes: why do I remember doing this in the past? I don’t know but apparently I never did it or never posted it, so here we have texts about not wearing a bra around them. Maknae line will probably be posted in a matter or days.
Some are boyfriend!SKZ, some friend!SKZ.
Bang Chan [friends to lovers]
Lee Minho [relationship]
Seo Changbin [friends to lovers]
Hwang Hyunjin [relationship]
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ skz 5'clock fanmeeting concept pics ✧˖°
BANG CHAN ♡ LEVANTER M COUNTDOWN (200102)
spike, the dog (still derogatory)
who: John Price x wife!reader
what: continuation of this fic and this thought about john price being a softie for his wife and the dog you found on the side of the road (y’all LOVEDDDDD this, thank u omg)
word count: 0.9k
“We are not naming the fucking dog Gremlin.”
“Pooh Bear.”
“No.”
You and John are sitting in the living room, staring at the dog you picked up from the side of the road a few days ago, trying to come up with a name for him.
Convincing your husband to let you keep the dog was a challenge. It felt like you were debating with judge, jury, and executioner. Stakes were high. He was sitting across from you at the dining room table, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. His eyes were narrowed at you and his face was expressionless, giving nothing away as you plead your case.
Somehow, you won.
So now, here you both are, brainstorming names to replace “Puppy”. You’re holding the dog in your arms on the couch and John is sitting across from you in his chair.
“And where the hell did you come up with these names?”
“I have a list.”
“You have a list?”
“I have a list,” you say, “of dog names and baby names. Every girl does.”
And then, for just a second, the room stills.
“Baby names?” John asks.
A shiver runs up the bottom of your spine and you sit up a little straighter. You feel the air buzz and John’s heavy gaze on you.
“Yeah,” you say, glancing at John and then back at the dog in your lap. “But—Pooh Bear?”
After a long second, he says, “No.”
“Georgie Banks.”
“The actress?”
“Wha— no, fucker, Georgie Banks from Mary Poppins.”
“… I’ll consider it. What else.”
“Ja’Marcus.”
“My love,” he says, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands together, looking at you seriously. “What the fuck are you talking about. It’s a dog.”
“Tra’davious.”
“I’m making a list,” he scoffs, sitting back again. “Jesus.”
“It’s a nice name!” you exclaim. “What are you gonna name him, Scout?”
He looks at you.
You look at him.
“No.” Your face drops and you almost shudder. “No, John, that’s not even funny.”
“Oreo?” The corner of his mouth twitches but he quickly steels himself.
“Stop.” You hold the dog close to your chest, horrified.
“Rocky?”
“No!”
“Buddy?”
“John.”
“We could just call him Puppy.”
“What is this, Bird Box? When Sandra Bullock named her kids Boy and Girl? We can’t just name the dog Dog. We would sound like neglectful parents.”
“Your friend has a dog named Cat,” John says.
“And that gets confusing because she just got a cat. I think she’ll have to rename Cat. And by Cat I mean the dog. Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head, eyebrows furrowed. What a mess that would be.
“We could name him after your team…?” you say, the idea popping into your head. Then, you frown. “I’m not calling him Kyle, though. That’s too human. Ghost? He is—you know.” You rub over the dog’s mangey back gently. “A little ghastly, still.”
“Riley?”
“Who’s Riley?”
“No one.”
You eye him. “Must be one of your other wives…”
He ignores you. “It would inflate their egos too much. They’re already insufferable enough. And,” he adds, “they don’t need another reason to suck up to you.”
“They don’t suck up to me,” you say.
“Sweetheart,” he says. “They suck up to you.”
“A pun with Price? Uhhhh… High? Low? Buy one get one? Bogo?” You hold up the dog, as if to present him. “Bogo Price, son of Mr. and Mrs. John Price?”
“You think you’re funny,” John says.
“I think I’m hilarious.”
“How about Mackie? For Mack? Soap’ld love that–Scottish for ‘my son’.”
“… I’ll consider it.”
“You did find him near Notting Hill. Maybe Notting?”
You shudder. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Knotting. It’s a—I’ll explain it to you later.”
(By later you mean never. Explaining A/B/O to your husband who doesn’t have any social media? And has never heard of the website Ao3? He’d have an aneurysm and then wonder why you know about it. And you cannot have that conversation.)
“What are the characters from Notting Hill again?” he says, scratching his chin. He needs to shave—well. You need to shave him, rather. “We just watched it. William Thacker, Anna Scott, uh, her shit husband, what’s his name—“
“Jeff King.”
“Jeff King, yeah. King, maybe?”
“Look at him, John.” You turn the dog to face him. He wiggles in your hands and yips, his tongue falling out of his mouth. “He’s not a King.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “He’s not a King.”
“What about William’s weird roommate? Uh, Spike?”
“Spike,” John repeats slowly.
You nod. “Spike.”
You both focus on the dog.
“I like Spike,” you say.
“I like Spike, too.”
You hum, considering this. “Spike…” You narrow your eyes and study the dog closely, holding him tighter in your hands.
He yawns with a high-pitched whine and then hacks.
“Jesus,” John mutters, shaking his head.
“Better than Georgie, Banks, or Mackie?”
“Yeah,” John says, “look at ‘im. He’s a Spike.”
“He’s such a Spike,” you muse. “He’s gonna be huge, too. I mean, look at his ears and paws–they’re already too big for him. Shit, he’s probably gonna be 70 pounds or 30 kilos.”
“We need to train him.”
“Yeah. I can hire a trainer? Find one online.”
“I could get a trainer from base.”
“I do NOT want an army dog.”
“It wouldn’t be an army dog. It would be a dog trained by the army.”
You eye him. “John.”
“Love.”
You sigh. “Fine.”
“Good girl.”
note: prob gonna make wife!reader and spike a universe/series bc i loveeeee them. I hope you enjoy!!!!
posted 01.02.2025.
do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.
to masterlist.
john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)
who: John Price x wife!reader
what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife. continued here!
word count: 2.4k
warnings: mentions of cheating but it’s NOT TRUE! you’ll see… just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man.
It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price thinks he hears his wife cheating on him.
“Shhh!! You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.”
He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of. The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.
He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants. He has one sock on with a hole in the toe. You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway.
“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here. Damn lock… can never— oh, shit. Heh. Wrong key.”
He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in.
It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely. He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila. You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off.
“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside. I bet you’re so cold, all naked. Here, you can go in my dress, is that better? Fu—ow! Don’t bite my tit, Jesus! Sharp teeth…”
Price suddenly feels much more awake. He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer.
“This damn door… ah! There we go.”
The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered).
“Remember, we have to be quiet. My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up. He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.”
Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit. And you’re being louder than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet.
“My husband is gonna be soooo mad. He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me. He’ll understand. I had to. I just had to!”
He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark.
“Stay there, don’t move, okay? Stay, yeah? You know that, don’t you? Mummy will teach you if not. Just stay right there. Lemme get these damn heels off…”
There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp—
“Wait, don’t run—“
Bang!
You groan loudly.
Price flicks on the lights.
You’re lying face down on the rug. You have one heel on. The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over. Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched.
“You okay there, love?” John asks, torn between amusement and concern. You just groan. “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.”
“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad.
“You hurt?” he asks. “Anything broken?”
You shake your head and curl up a little. “I’ll just sleep here.”
He laughs softly. “Come on, none of that.”
“It’s so comfortable. I’ll just—“
There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement. You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you. You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view.
He blinks. “What you got there, love?” he asks after a second.
“Nothing,” you say innocently.
“Right.” He crosses his arms, looking you over. “Who were you talking to just now?”
“No one,” you say quickly. “Myself.”
“Right,” John says again slowly. “Show me what you have.”
You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry. “No. You’re gonna be mad.”
“Just show me.”
“Promise you won’t be mad.”
He sighs. “I won’t be mad.” You give him a look. He sighs again. You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes. They’re unfocused and heavy. “Promise. Now show me.”
You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest. “Okay,” you whisper (to your tits?), “you need to be very well-behaved, okay? No biting, please. Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay? Can you do that? Yes? Okay.”
You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement. Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband.
It’s a puppy.
It’s quiet.
The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes. He barks up at John, high pitched. A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth.
It’s still quiet.
You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John. “You said you wouldn’t be mad!”
“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad.
“You look mad.”
“I’m not mad,” he says again. “It’s just… dirty.”
You gasp. “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog. You pull him to your chest. “He’s just a little mangey, you see. But that’s okay. It can be fixed. You know—they have medicine for that. Or lotion, or whatever it is. He’s very nice, John, I swear. I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow! That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.”
“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you. Yep. You’re fucking wasted.
“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.” You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you. “I think you’re very cute, puppy. You’ll grow on Daddy. Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you? Yes, you can.” You whisper, as if John isn’t standing right there, “We’ll wear him down. Don’t worry.”
“I thought it was something else,” Price says.
“What did you think it was?” you ask, not looking away from the dog.
“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering.
This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied. You, cheating? As if.
How silly of him to even think that. For a moment, his stomach twists with the guilt of doubting you. He should have known better.
Of course it’s this. What else could it have been?
A puppy.
A puppy!
“Oh, hello, there.”
You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road.
“What are you doing here, all alone? Come here, love, I won’t hurt you. Come on, puppy, come to me. Yeahhh, there we go. Oh, look at you. You’re so cute. You’re all mangey, though. Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.”
You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, halfway through your walk home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, about to cry while petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind. He wags his tail and nips at your fingers.
“Where’s your Mummy? You shouldn’t be out here all alone. No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you? I don’t want to leave you. I’m not sure what to do.”
He barks at you, high pitched.
You nod at him seriously. “Oh, yes, good point.” He barks again. “Mhm. Yes, yes. I thought so, too. Exactly right.”
He runs in a circle around you.
“What are you, a month? You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone. Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.” (He’s wagging his tail.)
“It’s so cold.” (It’s summer.)
“Maybe you can come home with me?” (Your husband would be so mad.)
“Yes,” you decide. “You’ll come home with me.” (Your husband is going to be so mad.)
That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life.
“Well, puppy, my name is Mrs. Price. I’m from around here. I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much. It’s very cute. He let me decorate it. He doesn’t understand feng shui, you see. You should see his office, puppy, it’s so bland. No taste for interior design.”
“Our house is only 10 more minutes away. See that big tree there? That means we only have 10 minutes left until we’re home. I’m not great with street names, you see, so I go by landmarks.” He barks. “Yes, yes, you get it.”
“Anyway. So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John. I love him very much. You’ll like him, too,” you tell him seriously, “he’s very likable. I like lots of things about him, puppy. Actually, I like everything about him.”
“He says I can’t have a dog, though. He says it’s for my own good—booooo. Boo! But maybe we can sneak you in. What do you think, puppy? Should we do that? I think we should do that. We’ll have to be very quiet, though. Very quiet.”
“John waits for me to get home safely—he’s so nice, he’s so kind to me, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up. This is one of them—uh, covert operations. He’s very well-versed in those. My husband is very talented, puppy, he’s a Captain. So we’ll have to be extra careful.”
And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug.
“Where did you find it?” John asks you as you sit on the floor after you presented the dog to him.
“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.”
“By Notting Street?”
You furrow your eyebrows. “Notting Str—I dunno. Maybe? I just know the big tree. The one with all the branches.”
“‘The one with all the branches,’” he repeats, nodding slowly. “Right.”
“But he was there all alone so I took him home. I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little. And he’s very cute, look at his little ears? And his little feet? His toes are soooo small. His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark. Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“You heard? Oh. I was trying to be quiet. I didn’t want to wake you up.”
He smiles at you. “I know.”
You smile back.
“Give me the dog.”
You frown. “No.”
“The dog, please.”
“No.” You hold him tighter. “You’ll take him from me.”
“Well,” he says, “yes.”
You sigh heavily. “Be gentle.” You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him.
A puppy.
“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully.
He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy. “No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“But…” You trail off and he looks back down at you. You’re starting to tear up.
“Oh—love, don’t cry.”
“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s all alone and he’s just a little baby and…”
“Okay, okay, darling, we can keep him.”
(By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’)
“Really?!” you gasp.
The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause. For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.
“Oh, John, really? Oh, thank you so much! Puppy, did you hear that? Daddy said yes! See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember? He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, and I—“
“The dog can’t understand you.”
“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.
He looks down at you. “Right.”
You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor. “How are you handsome even from this angle?” You frown deeper. “Stupid face,” you mutter.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Let’s get you up.”
“I’m so comfortable.”
“Hand.” He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you. He crooks his long, thick fingers at you. “Now.”
You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his.
“Good girl.”
He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder.
He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal. “Hey!!”
You kick your feet (still with only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip, heavy fingers digging into the plush of your butt, as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand.
Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him.
“Well,” Price drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
You grin. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” He takes off your shoe (singular), your dress, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest.
“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed. “I’m so lucky. I don’t know how I got so lucky. And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too. You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world. He’s so good to us.”
“‘Puppy’ is asleep,” John says. “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.”
You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue.
He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him. He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him. “Hush now. Your Mummy is asleep.” He shakes his head and sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”
He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor. His paws slip a little on the cold tile. John puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog. “I can’t believe this.”
He reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you) and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.”
In the morning, despite John Price’s best efforts to say no to you, you end up convincing him to keep the dog. He’s a military Captain but the pleading of his wife is enough to make him crumble.
The happiness on your face when he finally says yes, makes him wonder why he ever said no in the first place.
note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!
posted 12.26.2024. revised 01.02.2025.
do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.
to masterlist.
Fallout
John Price x wife!reader OC
Summary: John Price faces the fallout with his wife after missing his youngest child’s birth.
Warnings: NSFW, angst, smut, porn with plot, barley a lactation kink¿, makeup sex, talks of divorce, mentions of child birth, domestic arguments, not edited.
——————
A ringing took over John Prices ears like it had many times before. It was the same high pitched squeal he heard after a close call near one of Soaps explosives or when he’d cracked his head off the side of an armored vehicle while in a brawl.
His icy blue eyes were unblinking and fixed on the brown carpet underneath his military grade dusty boots. Hunched over he had his elbows resting on his knees and hat placed on the side table next to him. The noises around him seemed to be drowned out by this ringing as John’s brain tried to work out what he had just heard.
“John?” Finally the voice who had now repeated his name for a third time broke through.
Lifting his head up John’s gaze fell on the woman who sat in front of him. She was medium build with black springy curls and tan skin. Dr. Valdez was staring through her thick rectangular glasses expecting a response. John only stared at her blankly, no emotion peaking through which the doctor found unusual. With a measured sigh she shook her head and glanced down at her notes, then back up at the man dressed in camouflage cargo pants and a fitted beige quarter zip.
“Your wife just told you she thought about leaving you. And you have no response?” There was the ringing in his ears again.
Hearing those words come from your lips had to be his mind playing tricks on him. But now, hearing your couples therapist repeat it; that meant you had truly uttered those words. That you, the love of John’s life, had contemplated leaving him.
Glancing from the corner of his eye John could see you wiping your nose with a tissue, unable to look in his direction. John’s ears tuned in again and he could hear your sniffles and choked breath as you tried not to sob. It was then that he realized his lack of response might only be hurting you more. So he tried to come up with anything to say.
“What is there to say?” John unclasped his hands for a second, unintentionally dismissing the truth you had just so painfully shared.
“There should be plenty to say. How does that make you feel, John?” Dr Valdez asked only for silence to envelope the room. So she continued.
“Your wife is crying. She’s clearly very upset and just told you that you missing your daughter’s birth was so hurtful she thought about leaving.” Hearing this again was testing John’s patience.
John felt blindsided, ambushed. How could he talk about this when he had no time to process it? How could he talk to you about it with a stranger involved? It felt like an invasion of privacy or a breach of trust. It was all too much and part of him knew he deserved to be held accountable but the other truly resented you for even thinking that way. In this heart wrenching moment John felt you were trying to hurt him just as much as he hurt you as payback. Although this was far from the truth.
“You don’t need to keep saying it.” John snapped back, unable to hide the nasty look he had cast at the therapist.
“You’re upset?” Dr Valdez asked.
“I’m-“ John paused, biting his tongue before it betrayed him. He was angry, feeling spiteful and wanting to say something equally as hurtful.
“Yes, I’m upset.” With a frustrated sigh John sat up straight, ran his right hand down his face, then leaned back into the couch you were both sitting on.
“Could you explain what you’re upset about?” These questions were driving John mad. Wasn’t it obvious?
He felt pushed to have his thoughts figured out so quickly. What he wasn’t understanding was this was an open conversation to talk about things. He wasn’t on trial or needing to have the perfect response. The therapist was here to facilitate a clear line of communication between you two since you hadn’t been communicating at all on this subject.
“Y/N wants to leave me. Are we going to act like we didn’t see that coming? She’s always hated my job because it gets in the way of. . . Life, I guess. I knew it would amount to her leaving so yeah, I’m upset. I’m upset because I thought I’d have more time before she walked away.” Showing his hurt and emotion was hard for John, so like always he lead with anger.
“See it coming!? That’s a bullshit response and you know it John.” You snapped at him utterly offended and with big tears in your eyes.
Never once in your entire marriage did you show a single sign of wanting to split up. John saying this only added to your hurt, like you were some heartless woman who had one foot out the door this entire time. As if you had some blame to take in this situation when in actuality he was the one to put work above you and your daughter’s health and well being. For John to say you would be the one to leave was beyond hurtful.
To you John was the one who left and he left often to potentially get blown up halfway across the world. You stayed home and took care of your family. And when he came home you took care of him, supported him, loved him with all your heart. But it wasn’t enough to keep him home for the birth of your daughter.
“Now, let’s keep the profanities out of this. John’s sharing his feelings and thoughts. That’s what you’ve been asking for, right?” Dr. Valdez put her hand out signaling you to calm down.
“Yeah, but not like that.” You blurted out.
You had just shared the most vulnerable aspect of what John missing Lily’s birth did to you. For the first time you had truly contemplated if your marriage would survive. Talking about it here was suppose to help you feel better but it had you feeling even more wounded by John’s response.
“Let’s allow John the space to say what’s on his mind so we can work through this together. He’s had very little time to process what you just told him.” She stopped you but you felt yourself bristle up and reacted how you expected John to, with anger.
“No. He left me 9 months pregnant and only gave me five minutes to work through it before he was out the door. I always have to put up with his leaving and sometimes theres no return date. He doesn’t get to have all this time to figure things out, it’s not fair.” You took a steadying breath trying to stop yourself from bursting into tears or throwing the decorative pillow next to you at John.
“I’m going home.” You stood from your spot on the opposite end of the couch as John. Wiping your eyes and tears streaked cheeks you walked across the room to the door and exited without glancing back.
“See what I’m dealing with.” John motioned to the door and looked at the therapist. Dr Valdez looked at John completely unimpressed.
“I don’t think that’s helpful.” She shot down John’s snarky comment.
“Well, I should go after her.” Clapping his hands against his knees John stood and grabbed his hat.
“John, can I give you some advice, not as a therapist?” Dr Valdez asked, also standing. John nodded not really sure how she could help. In his opinion these sessions only stirred up more trouble for him at home.
“Love her through this. If you wall up or get angry now it’s going to push her away and build even more resentment. Then she really might leave.” Patting John’s shoulder he looked down at his feet and then nodded.
You leaving was the absolute last thing he wanted.
John exited the office and went down to the parking garage where his truck was. To his surprise you weren’t there. Walking over to the opening that looked over the surrounding area John spotted you walking down the street, well more like storming.
“So bloody stubborn and proud. She’s going to walk home.” John spoke to himself in utter disbelief.
Blinking a few times John scratched the back of his head before he hopped in the truck to go get you. He rehearsed what he should say to try an convince you to get in. John knew his hard headed wife could be even more stubborn than him at times so it would be a challenge to get you to ride home with him.
Pulling up next to you John rolled down the passenger side window to get a better look at you.
“You really going to walk the whole way home?” John called to you but you didn’t bother to look at him.
Functioning from your emotions wasn’t how you normally worked. You tried your hardest to be reasonable and rational especially around John. He was a man who didn’t tend to function from an emotional place unless anger decided to rear its head.
You were consumed with anger and felt yourself reacting in a way you normally scolded your husband for. But for once you didn’t feel like being introspective. Your hurt was deep and raw enough you finally didn’t care how it affected the great Captain Price. He missed your daughter’s birth. That was a fact and there was no easy fix. You were allowing yourself to not hide how damaging it was for him to put work above you over and over. Now it had truly gone too far.
“Darling, please get in. We don’t have to speak. It’s getting late and I don’t want you walking home in the dark by yourself.” John pleaded with you. His eyes continued to glance at the road as he slowly followed next to you.
“Oh so now you care!” You snapped, eyes filled with a fiery rage John wasn’t accustom to.
“Of course I care. Please get in.” John asked again trying to be as sweet as possible.
“No. I don’t want to be around you.” You continued to walk down the street getting odd glances from passerby’s as you were being followed by your husband’s truck.
John let out a frustrated huff at how stubborn you could be. Pulling over he threw the car in park and swiftly got out and went after you. Jogging down the street John watched you from behind storming in the wrong direction from home. Grasping you lightly by the elbow John took a step back as you whipped around and stepped toward him like you were ready to fight.
“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me ever again!” You hissed in his face. John had his hands by his shoulder silently telling you he meant no harm.
Without a word he dangled the car keys in front of you as a silent offer. You watched as the silver keychain he bought you when you were dating shone in the street laps warm glow. It was a silver dog tag with both your names and your old anniversary date from before you had gotten married; he had it custom made. The memory of him giving it to you and how loving and sweet the gesture was made you angrier. That man back then would have never left you in the lurch. But this version of him, that stood in front of you had, and it made everything hurt all that more.
Snatching the keys from his large hand you pushed past him and went over to the truck. It felt just that you got to drive home and John was left to walk. To you it was a punishment and what he deserved. So you got into his truck and left him there. Maybe being left behind would have him feeling a fraction of the abandonment he left you feeling all those months ago.
——————
Walking into your bedroom John found it empty to his surprise. The kids were already tucked in and asleep when John arrived home hours later. It took him over two hours to walk all the way home and it gave him time to think; but more importantly it gave him time to cool off from being mad.
Checking the bathroom John found it empty too. Quietly John exited your room and went to check Lily’s nursery thinking you must be nursing her. Opening the door John’s chest felt strange. It felt like a void opened up seeing you asleep on the floor of Lily’s nursery. You had found an old sleeping bag and took your pillow with you. Lily was sound asleep on her tummy with her bum in the air. She looked like a little ball in her cream colored sleep sack.
This moment felt similar to John offering you the car keys. He would much rather be the one to sleep on the floor while you got to sleep in a comfortable bed. Much like he willingly chose to walk home and give you the truck instead. To him maybe the little digs and punishments would add up enough that you could forgive him. Or maybe it would help him make peace with what he had done.
Slowly coming into the nursery John crouched down and went to pick you up like he had a hundred times. He had carried you to bed more times than he could count from the couch and this felt no different. As soon as his hands began to slip underneath you, you startled awake. It happened so fast but you pushed John off of you causing him to loose his balance and plop back on his bum. You were puffing out ragged breaths clearly startled and eyes wide. John expected the normal barrage of apologies from you for startling like that but they didn’t come. You had always been jumpy.
“What did I say about touching me.” You quietly hissed trying not to wake up your four month old.
“I was going to carry you to bed.” John said simply, not making a move to stand up.
“If I wanted to sleep in bed I would’ve locked you out.” Again another venomous remark.
“Why are you sleeping in here then?” Dumbstruck John asked.
You two were both speaking in a hushed tone as you sat on the nursery floor.
“Because you may have left me all alone but I got the most beautiful baby and I just want to be near her.” You wanted to say these words with just as much anger but it fell off half way through. Saying the word ‘baby’ had you breaking, the words becoming shaky.
Lily had become your comfort through the abandonment John left you with. For months instead of acknowledging your hurt you poured love into your new addition to the family. She was perfect and had done nothing to deserve her father missing her first moments in life. So you overcompensated with love and iced John out.
Casting your eyes down to your lap your fingers curled into the nylon of the sleeping bag. Clenching your teeth tightly the hot tears ached behind your eyes and spilled down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” John went to wipe your tears away but stopped himself.
Not touching you was going to be hard. You had already been avoiding his touch for the last four months but now it was outright not allowed. You had been putting pillows between you both at night claiming you needed them for your back. Little attempts to peck your lips were avoided and John had only gotten the corner of your mouth but mostly your cheeks. You stopped cuddling on the couch and even turned him down to watch movies or television together.
Sex was completely off the table and the few times John tried to initiate it you told him your stitches were still healing; although that hadn’t been true for months. The lack of physical intimacy both sexual and non was what pushed John over the edge and had him finally agreeing to couples counseling. Not being able to hold you at night when he could hear you quietly crying or lace his fingers with yours as you walked down the street with your kids was torture.
“Should I leave you here then?” John asked as you continued to lightly cry into your hands.
“Please.” You croaked out.
John felt his own eyes begin to ache from how heavy his heart was becoming. Slowly John stood and made his way to the door. Stopping before he shut it behind him John took in the sight of you. Crumpled on the floor in front of your babies crib and crying into your hands. It broke his heart. All he wanted was to take this hurt away from you and he hated himself for being the one to inflict such heart ache on to the woman he loved most in this world.
“I love you.” John voice quivered as he spoke. Tears coming to his own eyes as he shut the door behind him not able to stay and wait for you to not say it back.
——————
“Are you sick daddy?” Evelyn asked from where she was sat at the kitchen table. She had an entire pancake on the end of her fork that she was eating bite by bite not wanting to put in the effort to cut it.
John had finally appeared much later than usual for breakfast. He had sat awake almost the entirety of the night. Television, reading, his phone, nothing helped get his mind off you sleeping in your youngest room. John eventually turned the lights out and laid down to hopefully force himself to sleep. To his dismay he ended up staring at the ceiling with his mind racing until 6am. By the time he finally fell asleep his alarm clock went off an hour later and he hit snooze until 8am.
John didn’t know if you would want to see him at breakfast so he chose to shower and try to stay out of your hair for as long as possible. Walking into the kitchen he saw Jj and Evelyn eating pancakes like they did most Sunday mornings. You were by the sink washing up with Lily in a baby carrier napping against your chest. John tried to give you a soft smile but it was obvious you were refusing to look at him. Coming over to you John came close but not enough to make you uncomfortable.
“Darling? I really think we need to talk.” John spoke softly so you could only hear him.
“About what? You leaving again?” Your words cut deep and you meant for them to.
“Dad’s leaving?” Jj asked seemingly distressed by the notion.
“I’m not leaving.” John was quick to set the record straight.
“If you need space I can stay at Sam’s.” John whispered to you.
Hearing that had you quickly looking over to your husband but he was already walking toward the backdoor. Him wanting to stay somewhere else had you instantly regretting being so hurtful. You didn’t want him gone or out of the house, but you understood why he thought that since you were using him as a verbal punching bag. You watched as he slipped on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and headed out.
“Where are you going? Can we come?” Evelyn asked John who gave her a genuine smile. It had been awhile since you saw that happy side of him.
“‘Course you two can. Finish up and meet me in the truck.” With a kind smile he turned to you and you watched that charming smile flatter. John nodded as a way to say goodbye and headed out the back door.
“That was weird.” Jj looked at you funny as he grabbed his plate and walked over to the sink to put it there.
“What was?” You asked giving your son a smile although you just wanted to curl up and cry.
“Dad didn’t kiss you or say bye.” Jj was as perceptive as always, picking up on the subtle things no matter how hard you tried to hide them.
“Did he not?” You feigned ignorance trying to make things seem like they were no big deal.
“Mum?” Jj asked coming closer to you and slipping his hand into yours.
“Yeah?” You asked seeing his father’s eyes as he looked up at you.
“When are you and dad going to be normal again? Or is this what happens when people have babies?” Jj asked in a hushed voice. He didn’t want his sister noticing the odd behavior he had been witness to the past few months.
“We’re working on it. But don’t you worry yourself.” There was no point in lying to your son. He was too perspective for his age and he would be able to tell if you lied to him; and that wasn’t a way to build trust.
It hurt you to your core that Jj had picked up on the turmoil between you and John. The fact he thought it might have something to do with having a baby made you wonder how long he had noticed this fissure.
“Okay.” Jj smiled softly, gave you a hug, then kissed Lily on the cheek.
“Bye mummy!” Evelyn ran up to the sink and put her plate in and then was running to the back door with Jj.
——————
“Where’s your dad?” You asked Evelyn and Jj as they came through the back door.
“He said he had to help Gaz with something.” Jj said as he kicked off his shoes.
They had been gone all day, even missed dinner. It left you alone in the house with just Lily. You thought John had taken the kids to spite you but it dawned on you that maybe he was giving you time to focus on Lily. After the previous night and you sleeping in her nursery it would make sense you might want some time to cherish her.
“Oh.” You whispered to yourself.
“Did you eat?” You asked watching as Evelyn bounced over to you.
“Yep! Daddy took us all around London today! We had so much fun!” Evelyn squealed. Hugging you around the middle then placing the fancy little red shopping bag on the counter.
“That’s from daddy.” She smiled hugging you again.
“Wished you could’ve come mum.” Jj smiled waving for Evelyn to follow him.
“C’mon, we promised dad we’d brush our teeth and go straight to bed.” With that reminder both your kids gave you a hug and kiss and went on their way.
“Goodnight mummy! Will you give me a kiss when you come upstairs?” Evelyn asked from halfway down the hall.
“Of course.” You called over your shoulder inspecting the little red paper bag.
It was finely made and had to be from an expensive store based off the quality. Opening it up you saw a ruby red square box sitting at the bottom. Taking the shiny expensive looking box out of the bag you slid the top off. Inside was a decadent sticky toffee pudding and you quickly grabbed the bag to check if it had a store name, and it did. It was the bakery you and John loved back when you were dating and living in that decrepit old flat. You were both so broke at the time you could only afford to stop there on special occasions or that time you won a raffle at work for free dessert. What caught your attention was that John remembered what you always got even though it had been almost ten years since you last went there.
The gesture was just as sweet as your first bite of that dessert. It had your mind replaying memories of times long past. Launching your sticking toffee pudding into the near by river was the memory that stuck out the most. Those days of a young lieutenant John Price so madly in love with you it was palpable at times. It turned the dessert bitter on your tongue. You missed those feelings and that kind of young love, how that man back then would have done anything for you.
——————
It was later than John ever came home. So late in fact you had given up and assumed he was staying somewhere else for the night. Him not telling you this had you wondering where he was sleeping and then feeling uneasy about him not coming home. The idea he was cheating crossed your mind for a second but then you felt like an idiot for even thinking that. John would never and you knew that.
But never before had you two been in a position like this. Where you admitted to him you thought about doing a trial separation because seeing him after he missed Lily’s birth was too difficult for you. You ultimately decided against it, loving your husband too much to ever be without him. Now you were still left with that hurt and had no way of truly dealing with it. Wondering now if telling John had caused him to go seek comforter in somebody else’s arms.
You had thought about it. Not cheating but being held and making love with the man John was before he hurt you this deeply.
Him giving you this space had you feeling strange. You’d realized how mean you’d been since your counseling session and wondered how he hadn’t gotten upset with you. It was hard because you were so hurt that you kept pushing him away with your actions and words. While he continued to be kind to you and love you through this. But all you wanted was to feel close to John again.
Laying in bed and staring over at his empty side of the bed it felt similar to when he was deployed and you were truly alone. The memories of your past hard times coming to mind and how they didn’t compare to this. You craved those days and the man John was before this happened.
You wanted to be held by your lover again. To be kissed by the man who chased after you to ask you to be his girlfriend. You wanted to be the mess of a woman you were the night he dropped to one knee and asked you to marry him. These moments were seared into your memory and when you thought of them and the hard times you were facing in those days they seemed to fade away and be replaced by this true sense of love and being loved.
Your mind continued to wander finding itself hooked on the idea of what it felt like to be loved like that. To be held tenderly in strong arms and shown physically how deeply John adored you as you made love. You missed that. It was ever present in those days of first dating, right after he proposed, and after you were married. You couldn’t remember the last time you two made love like that and when things had devolved into only having sex. There was no shame in it but you missed feeling cherished like that more so now because things had become so loveless.
You heard your bedroom door creak open quietly then followed by near silent foot steps as John came in. Sitting up you flicked on your lamp to see John looking at you in surprise. John was convinced you would be asleep by now which is why he came in at all.
“Where have you been?” You demanded to know.
“I wanted to give you space.” John looked tired and you picked up on how he didn’t answer the question. You watched as he tossed his wallet on to his dresser and then rooted through it to grab pajamas. Soon he was heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” You asked again.
“Sleep on the couch.” John didn’t bother turning to look at you as he tried to leave.
“Wait.” You spoke abruptly.
Turning, John saw you staring at him with those big bright eyes he’d fallen madly in love with over a decade ago. You looked different than you had earlier, it seemed the anger had finally left you.
“I want you to kiss me. Like you did when you asked me to be your girlfriend.” It was embarrassing, to ask your husband this and part of you wondered if he even knew what you meant by it.
Your request had John stilling. An uncertainty clutching his chest as to why now you wanted him. It had been so long since he last kissed you, fully kissed you like he meant it. The idea of getting to do that again had John speeding past the alarm bells going off in his head and ready to feel you under his finger tips again.
John slowly came over to your king sized bed. Kneeling on it, he made his way to you and crowded your space. Taking his right hand he laced it through your hair with confidence, his fingers tugging at the roots and pulling your head back with little force. It was possessive, like he was of you at that time in your lives. John pressed his lips to yours firmly and held you right where he wanted and yours moved along with the same hungry intention. It felt familiar and tasted of your past desire for the young Lieutenant. Your lips slotted together and moved in tandem as a heat began to build between you both. It was desire that started to flood your veins and it felt addictive in this moment. You felt young again for a second and wanted to chase after that feeling and leave behind who you were.
Pulling away John looked at you closely, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.
“Now kiss me like you did when you asked me to marry you.” The words were just above a whisper and John’s mind wandered to the young woman you were that early morning.
You had been crying because you so desperately wanted a family with him but he had been on the fence about having children, thus keeping him from proposing. John remembered how he planned on proposing the following week but ditched his original plans because in that moment he knew you couldn’t wait another second on his account. He loved you so much he wanted to wash those tears away and he did. He dropped to one knee in a puddle and asked you to be his one early morning in the misty rain.
John didn’t kiss you this time. He leaned in close and hugged you like he had done that early morning. Holding you close John felt that young woman in his arms again and just like then you began to cry. Only this time it wasn’t because you were excited to start a family and life together. You were mourning the loss of trust and wishing you could go back to these moments when life didn’t seem all that bad compared to now.
John slowly pulled away to wipe your tears but you didn’t give him the chance. Wrapping your arms around his neck you kissed him desperately. Pulling him closer you were soon lying on your back with John hovering over you, tears still streaming down your face. It took him off guard to have you making out with him and pulling him in to you with lustful intentions. Breaking away John was surprised to see you chasing after his lips.
“Darling, we’ve gone from me not touching you to this. Are you sure?” John was a bit breathless as he asked. Apprehension was taking over not sure how things had changed for you so quickly. He wanted this, craved your body but mainly he longed for your love.
“I want to feel you again. Like we use to. Before everything fell apart.” The admission made John’s heart still.
This was you coping. Not what he thought it was. John was hoping you were reaching out to him because you missed him and wanted his comfort as the man he was today. But you wanted reminders of the past, something to pacify you tonight to hopefully make the pain go away.
“I-I’m going to go sleep on the couch.” Slowly John slipped from your arms and got out of bed. He could see the devastation in your eyes immediately, not being use to rejection from him.
“Please, John.” You sat up clutching your comforter to your chest. Pleading eyes were fixed on your husband as he slipped out of bed and grabbed his pajamas.
“What you’re asking for isn’t something I want. I’m sorry.” Apologizing felt pointless in a moment like this.
Rejecting your advances now of all times felt cruel but John couldn’t go from how you two had been to shagging like you did when you were younger. It was a way to ignore the now and drown out what was going on in your lives.
“Please.” You begged again, desperate to feel anything besides the crushing weight of abandonment.
“I want to be enough now. And we’ll get there eventually. But let’s not do this thing where we pretend. It’s only going to hurt more.” John admitted to you not able to give you what you wanted.
It hurt just as deeply as everything else did to hear that.
“Okay.” Nodding your head you reached over and turned off your lamp, the room now shrouded in darkness.
“I love you, John.” You spoke with certainty as your bedroom door opened.
“I love you too.” And with that your door clicked shut.
——————
The smell of fried onions was what woke John up, the sound of sizzling soon followed. It’s was a symphony to John and it culminated in the familiar feeling of being home. But then his mind caught up to him and he was soon reminded of the turmoil in your marriage.
Taking a centering breath John tossed off his blanket and got up from the couch. He was dressed in black sweat pants and a blue athletic t-shirt. He took the time to fix the couch back up to normal and put his blanket back in the chest that sat on the right side of the room.
John wondered what you were making this morning and if you would be making enough for him. Yesterday he didn’t want to test the waters and decided to go out early to eat. It was nice having the kids tag along for the day it made everything feel a lot better.
Walking into the kitchen he expected to see his family all sat at the kitchen table ready to eat but he only found you at the stove. Instantly John thought you let the kids sleep in. To John’s shock he watched as you turned to look at him with a shy smile. You weren’t ignoring him anymore.
“I made your favorite.” Your eyes fell to the plate in your hands and John saw you had made a full English breakfast for him.
“Thank you.” John’s words were barely audible, a tight lipped smile gracing his bearded face.
It was strange feeling this uncomfortable around one another. You attributed it to your inability to treat John with love and care and instead allowed your anger to get the better of you. John didn’t know what to expect from you. It was like emotional whiplash constantly and he was exhausted but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying to fix things.
“Where are the kids?” John looked around and then back at you.
“My dad took Jj and Evie for the day and Lily’s with your sister.” Your eyes scanned John’s face trying to read any emotion he might show you, but he stayed stoic.
“Calling in all the favors.” It was an attempt at humor but you both awkwardly stood in your kitchen.
The silence was deafening and you wanted this weird tension to end between you two. It almost felt easier being angry because seeing how uncomfortable you made John was causing you to look inward at your actions. And you could see how horrible you’d been.
“Eat. We can talk when you’re finished.” It felt forced but you pushed your hands out and offered John the plate of food. It was your lame attempt of winning him over which you knew was far from enough.
John wasn’t particularly hungry but no part of him could reject you for a second time. Nodding a silent ‘thank you’ in your direction John took the plate and sat down at the kitchen table. He quietly ate and watched as you cleaned up the kitchen, the both of you staying silent.
Eventually he had finished his food and you were now sitting at the kitchen table together. With two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits between you both you tried to make this as comfortable as possible.
“I’m sorry about last night. I’m embarrassed for the way I acted.” You opened up the conversation having been plagued by your behavior. The anger was easier for you to stomach than being desperate for sex and being rejected for having impure intentions.
“Don’t be. You wanted to forget for a moment. I can understand that.” You could see the pain in John’s icy eyes. He was a clever man and it was no surprise he had figured out what was going on last night without having to talk about it.
There was a long lapse of silence that you tried to fill by taking a sip of your tea. John sat silent looking off into the distance while he stirred his tea.
“I’m still so angry at you and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to move on or forgive you.” Instead of beating around the bush you decided to get straight to the point.
“You can be angry at me for however long you need. I’ll always regret my decision and be sorry for leaving you in such a vulnerable time.” John couldn’t get himself to look at you.
The shame he felt reached down to his very core and he didn’t think he was deserving of forgiveness. The hard truth he realized on his walk home yesterday was that you had every right to leave him for what he had done. Any sane person would have. But you were still here and he didn’t understand why.
“Why did you do it? I know worked called and they said you had to. . . But why? Why didn’t you say ‘no my wife’s due any day’?” It was a question you had been asking yourself and you racked your brain endlessly wondering why John didn’t push back on his orders.
John stared down at his hands, scared the truth would only upset you more.
“Please tell me John and be honest.” With pleading eyes you begged for John to be honest.
“I thought we had time. Your due date was far enough away I thought I could make it back. I thought. . . I thought I could make everything work out and wouldn’t lose my job and still be there for you. . . Clearly I was wrong.” You could hear the pain in John’s voice as he admitted his intentions. How he thought he could have the best of both worlds but ended up failing you.
“Your jobs that important.” It was meant as a question but came out as a statement. Because this was fact to you.
“I can’t just not show up. You know that’s not how this works.” John tried to reason only to be given a nasty look.
“That’s bullshit and you know it. What happens when I need you or the kids need you and work comes up again? You going to leave us all in the lurch?” The meanness was coming back as you felt anger spike your veins.
“I don’t know.” John practically blurted out feeling under pressure. He normally functioned well under pressure but this wasn’t the kind he was use to. Having to answer to you about how he failed and abandoned you was becoming too much.
“You don’t know? John that’s not good enough.” You pushed even more watching as John seemed almost panicked to have the right answers.
“I promise I’ll make things work, you just have to trust me.” John hated the way you looked at him. The trust from before was absent and he felt desperate to have your loving gaze back on him.
“I don’t know if I trust you like that anymore.” You couldn’t look John in the eyes as you told him that. Hearing that made his ears ring like they had when you admitted to thinking about leaving him.
“Let me build that trust back up. I know I can’t do it in a day or even a year. But please, let me show you because that’s all I can do. It’ll just take time.” Hesitating to take your hand John pushed past being uncomfortable about touching you. So he took the risk and lightly took your hand. It felt nice to not be pushed away and you willingly held his hand too.
“Time.” You nodded being able to stomach that this might be able to fix itself with John’s efforts and a ticking clock.
“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much and I want you to hold me and love me with everything you have. But from one moment to the next I go from that to being so hurt and upset I could throttle you. It doesn’t feel fair to pull you close and then push you away.” This was the biggest thing you had been struggling with in your journey to forgive John.
“And that’s why you wanted to separate?” John asked, having never heard the true reason. It hurt him to even admit to himself you had those intentions.
“I thought about it because I didn’t want to be around you at first. But then I realized having you gone was so much worse. I was hurt and was trying to figure out anything to make myself feel better.” As hard as it was to have this conversation it was long overdue. You had been avoiding talking about it for months only bringing it up in couples counseling.
“Did you really consider it?” John asked his hand tightening in yours.
“Yeah, at the start before you had come home I did. But then you held Lily and I knew in that moment I couldn’t do it. I needed you just as much as she does.” Pressing your lips into a firm line you willed yourself to stop crying. It seemed that was all you could do most days now.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ever put you in a situation like that. You went through it all alone and I should’ve been there. You must have been so scared.” The words came tumbling out as John tried his damndest to hold himself accountable. It was all for your sake and he was ready to truly hear what his absence had done to you.
“I was.” You admitted and finally broke into sobs.
——————
“Dads suppose to be here.” Jj grumbled as he tied up his cleats. You were crouched in front of your son with Lily on your hip while you gave him a pep talk before he joined his football team for his match tonight.
“Focus on the match. You’ve still got me and your sisters in the stands.” Ruffling your son’s hair he rolled his eyes and jogged off towards his team to do warm ups.
With a heavy sigh you made your way back to Evelyn who was playing with your phone in the bleachers. She had roped the man sitting next to her into helping her with the phone game. You awkwardly apologized and reminded your eldest daughter not to talk to strangers. She cheekily asked how she was suppose to make friends then. You took your seat and plopped Lily in your lap as you waited for your son’s championship game to start.
John had been roped into another assignment at work and was off to God knows where last week. It was tough having him leave, it had those old resentful feelings cropping up again but he was very understanding about them. Giving you space when you needed it and showing you love when you asked. Jj was extremely upset because he knew his dad would miss his big match. To your surprise John promised he’d be there before even checking with work. You didn’t believe him but you weren’t going to tell anyone that.
“Fuck, sorry, excuse me. Sorry.” John’s voice stuck out amongst the chatter around you.
Your head snapped in the direction of his gravely tone and you saw John making his way to your seats. He was still dressed in his military attire; beige cargo pants, and a fleece army green quarter zip with a collar. He had ditched the hat showing off how his hair had gotten a bit longer and his beard was starting to get over grown.
“Didn’t save me a seat?” John’s smile was bright as he pointed to either side of you because there was no room for him amongst the other spectators.
You could only blink at him, words caught in your throat. John was right you didn’t save him a seat because you didn’t think he would make it. It didn’t seem to upset him there was no seat. John simply picked up Evelyn who squeaked and hugged him and plopped her in his lap so you could all sit together. Evelyn introduced John to her new friend and the two men hit it off once they realized they were both Liverpool fans. You sat there quietly playing with Lily’s hair. Your heart thumped loudly and you felt your heart swell that John was sat next you, his broad shoulder bumping into you every so often as he chatted.
“Didn’t think I’d make it?” John leaned over and whispered in your ear. He then placed a welcoming kiss to your cheek.
You could only smile at him in surprise, your head nodding, confirming his suspicion.
“Good, I’ll keep proving you wrong.” With a cocky grin John turned his attention to the match that was just beginning.
It was hard to keep your eyes on your son’s game when you had John sitting next to you. Continuously you were glancing at him and a few times you brushed your hand over his forearm or thigh to check if he was real. You wanted to scream out in joy that he made it but also keep yourself from getting to excited because if he disappointed you later it would hurt more.
Jj was ecstatic when he saw John at the end of the match. Babbling on and on about winning and if John saw how well he played. It made your heart swell to see your husband cheer Jj on from the stands and walk with his arm around the young boy as you all made your way to the cars. Jj asked to ride with John to the restaurant he chose and you all headed out.
John took notice to your soft gaze on him all of dinner and the little comment you made of wishing you had all taken one car. To him that meant you wanted to be around him and that was a step in the right direction.
Once home John helped with the nighttime routine and got the kids down to bed easily. Soon enough he was showering in your bathroom leaving you to your own devices in your shared bedroom. Listening to the sound of the shower you looked through your pajama drawer trying to figure out what to wear. Normally you threw whatever was easiest on but tonight you wanted to feel pretty. Because tonight you found yourself craving John like you use to. The only thing holding you back was how he had turned you down the last time you tried to initiate sex.
Taking out the silk night dress you knew John loved you slipped into it and ditched your bra and panties. Taking a moment you admired how the powder blue fabric looked amazing on your skin and the white lace spaghetti straps and bottom of the skirt accented the piece nicely. It was on the short side and came down to just above mid thigh and cinched at the curve of your figure.
The sound of the shower turning off had you quickly dashing toward the mirror. Pulling your hair out of the ponytail you had it in, you quickly played with your hair to make it fall in a way the framed your face nicely. Taking a deep breath you nodded at yourself finding the bravery to try and seduce your husband after five months of keeping him away.
Stepping out of the bathroom in just his boxer briefs John was ready to settle into bed and hopefully get to hold you as he drifted off to sleep. To his surprise he found you lounged back on his side of the bed in that little nightgown that drove him mad.
With wide blue eyes John’s gaze wandered up the exposed skin of your legs, admired your pert nipples through the silk fabric and the settled on the shy smile gracing your beautiful lips. He didn’t bother speaking because he knew you weren’t doing this to forget like you had before. You were laid out in front of him for the man he was now not who he use to be.
“Are you sure?” John checked in not wanting to read too much into things and make sure you were okay with him making advances toward you.
“I miss you. All of you. And I want you.” And with that response John was smiling softly at his very beautiful wife.
With that confident walk where his hips swayed you giggled lightly as John came over to you and crawled on top of you. You wiggled down the bed so you were lying flat with your head resting on his pillow. John hovered above you, hands on either side of your head and admired the way you stared back up at him. He had slotted one thigh between your legs and ever so gently leaned forward so the taunt muscle pressed against your pelvis giving you the option to grind down if you ever so pleased.
Lacing his finger through your hair John took in your features with care. He took notice of how time had aged you like fine wine. The wrinkles in your skin were barely present and they had amounted to cute laugh lines from the times you had shared together. Your eyes were just as bright as the day he met you. Moving slowly John focused on your plump lips and finally pressed his own against them.
It felt like sticking a fork in a wall socket.
Your whole body reacted as electricity shot through your veins. He tasted of younger years that had aged deliciously. No longer did you crave that young Lieutenant but were desperate for the man he had become. Your lips continued to move in tandem a heat building between you both. Pressing your hips skyward you ground your cunt against John’s bare toned thigh. The muscle was the perfect soft yet solid thing to press yourself against. The wiry hair of his thigh only added to the erotic pleasure that was building in your belly. Groaning softly John pulled away from the slow yet searing hot kiss to look down between you two.
“No knickers?” John breathed, his right hand coming down to your thigh and pushing the silky blue fabric up to pool above your hips.
The sight of your bare cunt grinding against his thigh had John ready to bust almost immediately. It had been five months since you two last had sex and it was finally occurring to him just how pent up he was.
“Fuckin’ Hell.” John muttered.
You watched as John continued to scan your body and you felt his apprehension. It made John seem stiff and unsure yet the way his eyes devoured you made you feel beautiful beneath his wandering eye. You knew instantly he didn’t want to push too hard too fast. So you helped him. Slipping the straps of your gown down you slid the fabric so it was now pooled around your waist, leaving your breasts exposed. They were full and larger from breast feeding and you knew how much John loved this part of having a baby. With a guttural groan John’s mouth was back on you. Hairy face shoved between the valley of your breasts and he sucked and nipped at the supple flesh. A light gasp was pulled from you feeling John suckle at your nipple.
“I need you John.” You whispered and your very attentive husband was springing into action.
Pulling away with a pop from your right nipple you watched John swallow the nectar he’d gotten from your full breasts. John’s hand grasped your hips and pulled you down the bed. He moved to be between your things and finally graced you with the sight of his pretty cock. It stood tall and it had been so long you swore you forgot how massive it was. John had tossed his boxers to the floor realizing this was the first time in a long time you admired his naked form. Leaning forward John positioned himself over you and locked eyes, searching yours for reassurance. He wanted you more than anything but did not want to make you feel that you couldn’t back out now.
“I’ve missed you. Please, John.” The breathy words had a small smile dusting John’s rugged features.
With matching love struck looks you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close. His arms slid under your shoulder blades and hugged you his burly chest. The action had John slowly sliding in to your sopping wet warmth. Your velvety walls parted for him and wrapped him up just like you did in your arms. The stretch felt other worldly, a mix between pain and pleasure while your body adjusted to the intrusion. You could feel John’s cock head nudging at the deepest parts of you sending a shiver up your spine.
“You’re so beautiful.” John groaned into your ear. Settling his weight on you your bodies now flush together. The pressure of your lover above you and his body molded into yours was the perfect comfort as his hips slowly pistoned in and out of you.
“I love you. I love you so much. Fuck, you feel so good.” Your breathing was picking up as John spoke.
You couldn’t form words with the breath being pushed out of you with each slow measured thrust. It was sensual the way John moved. Earnestly trying to get as deep as possible while holding you tenderly, a focus on your pleasure and having you impossibly close. So close he could feel you under his skin, coursing through his veins, John wanted to be smothered by you.
“I love you. I absolutely adore you, darling.” Feeling John’s hot breath against your ear added to your desperation. His lips were kissing your neck, teeth every so often nipping at your earlobe.
The wiry chestnut hair of John’s chest rubbed against your breasts and his scratchy beard was leaving your skin raw on your shoulder and neck. His much large frame dwarfed you making feel small, safe, protected in his capable hands. It felt amazing having his muscular body pressed against you, you could hardly focus on his hips bucking into you. The pleasure was there but the comfort of being in John Price’s arms and feeling so loved was truly the better feeling.
John was mesmerized by the way you felt beneath his finger tips. How your finger nails scratched down his back, squeezed his ass when it felt particularly good for you. He thought he would only last a minute or two with how long it had been. But feeling you pliant beneath him, hugging him, holding him as close as physically possible, loving him in the most intimate way was intoxicating. You felt amazing around his cock but nothing compared to being loved by you in this moment.
He had missed you. From your touch to the way you smiled at him. Feeling how your love was returning to your marriage in a physical way was more of a relief than getting off ever could be. It meant John had done right by you. And that was the better feeling, now you shared that wrapped in each other’s arms.
“You’re mine? Always be mine?” The normally possessive statement became a question tonight. It was a plea for you to never leave and you both knew that.
“I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.” The confession had John’s lips crashing into yours, devouring your soft moans.
John’s pace picked up the both of you becoming desperate and losing yourselves in the pleasure. Pulling away only slightly a thin strand of saliva connected you as John rested his forehead against yours. With an adoring gaze you two stared into each other’s eyes both feeling the tension build and build until you teetered on the edge of your climax. You loved the way John’s pupils ate up almost all of the gorgeous icy blue of his eyes. While John was lost in your bright eyes that had become hooded with pleasure while his hips moved faster and rougher.
“I’m so in love with you.” John confessed as if it were a sin to feel that way.
“John, oh fuck. God, I lo-” the words caught in your throat and you wanted to tell him you loved him too. But with the perfect snap of his hips rubbing against your clit for this long you finally came. Gasping and muscles tightening you moaned John’s name and chanted it like a mantra.
“Darling-“ John grunted, a shaky breath forcing itself from his lungs. You both maintained eye contact as you felt a warmth flood your quivering cunt. John’s body shook as his orgasm tore through his body, months of pent up sexual tension flooding into your pretty cunt. So much filled you it was leaking out of you with John still fully sheathed inside of you.
Catching your breath John settled against you making it hard to breathe, but you didn’t mind. Rubbing your hands up and down his back he squeezed you closer. Soon enough you both were lightly laughing and John was taking you with him while he rolled on to his back. With legs intertwined you soaked in this moment together never wanting it to end.
“You know I’ll always love you.” After speaking John placed a kiss to the crown of your head.
He loved this feeling of having you resting against his chest, sweaty and worn out from making love after so long. You both laid in the sticky mess you created and there was a silent communication after a shower you’d be changing the sheets. A year ago John took a moment like this for granted and after everything he would be cherishing you a lot more.
Playing with the tufts of hair on John’s bulging pectorals it felt like a daydream. You didn’t think you two would get to a place where you could enjoy each other again let alone make love. But here you were listening to the steady rhythm of his heart and feeling cherished in his strong arms. Having John show up and keep his promise was the first step toward healing. You thought back to how he told you it would take time and he was right. It left you excited to see him continue down this path for the sake of you and your family. Some may call you foolish for being so hopeful but maybe this was how trust was built.
“And I’ll always love you.”
——————
“Why are you so happy?” Evelyn was giving you a bratty look as you set out a huge breakfast for your family.
“Just am.” You smiled at the young girl who gave her father a funny look.
“What?” John asked around his fork as Evelyn looked at him skeptically.
“What are you so happy about?” She turned the question on to her father. You and John shared a look knowing exactly why you were both so happy.
After last night you woke up in the middle of the night and coaxed John awake for another go. Only this time you sat atop him and showered him with your love. Then this morning was a lot less about love and a whole lot more about getting your back blown out; but you weren’t complaining. In fact you egged John on to go harder the whole time.
“I’m happy to be home.” John fibbed. It wasn’t an outright lie he was truly happy to be home but his chipper mood was truly due to you.
“Yeah right! You’re way past normal happy. You’re Liverpool just won a match happy.” Leaning closer Evelyn narrowed her eyes trying to pick John apart. He could only lightly chuckle and go back to eating his breakfast.
“Well Jj did win his match last night. Can’t I be happy about that?” John asked, quirking an eyebrow at his very suspicious daughter.
“Mum and dad are just getting on, leave it be.” Taking his fork Jj tapped the edge of Evelyn’s plate to get her to stop staring.
“They’re always getting on what are you talking about?” Giving Jj a confused look she turned her attention to you.
“Mummy tell me.” Evelyn pleaded.
“I think you’ve had too many pancakes and they’re going to your head. Your dad and I are just happy today. Isn’t that a nice thing?” Your comment didn’t seem to persuade your oldest daughter. In fact it seemed to light a fire under her and she needed to know the reason why.
“You’re both big fibbers and I’m going to figure out why you’re so happy! Did you get one of those coupons in the mail again for half priced icecream!? That made daddy really happy once!” Evelyn’s guess had you snorting out a laugh. The coupon was John’s excuse to take you all out for icecream and to his dismay it ended up being expired.
“No I didn’t get a coupon.” John chuckled deeply now wanting to go check the mail to see if maybe he had.
“Okay, then was it. . .” Evelyn tapped her chin as she tried to think of another reason.
“Baby Lily did something cute!” Jj tried to guess but Evelyn clicked her tongue and shook her head in disapproval.
“No, that’s too obvious. It has to be. . . Auntie Sarah’s going to watch us so you two can go on a fancy date and smooch!” Pointing her finger at John, Evelyn’s statement felt more like an accusation.
“Not a bad idea.” John winked at you.
“I’ll give her a call.”
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Ruined for anyone else - Bang Chan
"If we ever broke up, I think you ruined me for anyone else."
Chris sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through his phone while you cuddled into his side, head resting on his shoulder. The soft glow of the TV bathed the room in muted light, but neither of you paid it much attention. It was one of those quiet nights where words flowed easily, the kind of comfort that came from being completely at ease with each other.
You tilted your head to look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips as a thought came to mind. Without much preamble, you murmured, “You know, if we ever broke up… I think you ruined me for anyone else.”
Chris froze mid-scroll, his fingers hovering over the screen. Slowly, he turned to look at you, his brows furrowing, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.
“I mean,” you said softly, “you’ve set the bar so high. You’re so attentive, so thoughtful… I don’t think I could ever find someone else who loves me like you do. You’ve shown me what it’s supposed to feel like.”
His phone slipped from his hands as he let out a quiet, almost shaky laugh, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know… You know, I don’t always feel like I’m enough,” he admitted, his voice low.
Your heart clenched, and you sat up a little to take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “Chris, stop,” you said firmly. “You’re more than enough. You’ve raised my standards so high I couldn’t even imagine anyone else. That’s why I said it – you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He lifted his eyes to meet yours, wide and searching, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t quite believe you. Then he gave a small, disbelieving laugh, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
“Ruined you, huh?” he finally said, his tone teasing, but the slight break in his voice betrayed how deeply your words affected him. He reached out, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “You think I’d ever let that happen? There’s no ‘breaking up,’ alright? You’re stuck with me.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his response, but he wasn’t done. His voice softened, taking on a vulnerable edge as he added, “But… hearing you say that? It means everything to me. I just – I try so hard to be good for you, you know? To make sure you know how much I love you. So… thank you. For saying that.”
You reached up, placing your hand over his. “You don’t have to try. You just… are.”
He stared at you for a long moment, then leaned in and kissed you, slow and lingering, as if to say all the things words couldn’t. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“For the record,” he whispered, “you’ve ruined me too. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
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SEOSPICY PREVIEW.
THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR: FINAL PART.
Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)
Previous chapters: Part I / Part II / Part III
Synopsis: When a new fuckboy, Minho, moves into the building, Chan’s sense of security is shaken. Minho’s flirtatious confidence and bold claim to win you over rattles Chan, igniting a rivalry. As Chan struggles to defend his relationship, he’s forced to confront his insecurities while proving his worth to you.
...
The evening air feels warm and easy inside Chan’s apartment. You're perched on a stool next to his DJ setup, your fingers hovering uncertainly over the turntable as Chan stands close, guiding you through the basics. His voice is soft but enthusiastic as he explains how to cue up tracks, mix beats, and create seamless transitions.
“See? Just like this,” he says, demonstrating the movement with fluid precision. His hands brush against yours, and you feel the slight buzz of electricity from his touch.
You bite your lip, pretending to concentrate. “So, what happens when a girl comes into your DJ booth?” you ask teasingly, glancing up at him with a playful smirk.
Chan grins mischievously, his dimples deepening. Without missing a beat, he takes you gently by the waist, pulling you into the open space of his living room.
“This happens,” he replies, starting to sway with you to the beat of the music.
You laugh, a little awkward as you try to follow his lead. “You know I’m terrible at dancing, right?”
“There’s no such thing,” Chan counters, spinning you around playfully before demonstrating a goofy dance move, making you burst into laughter. “See? Now you’re better already.”
Shaking your head, you try to mimic his move, but it’s hopeless. He chuckles and takes your hands, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. “Alright, let’s make it simple,” he says, lowering his voice. “Just follow me.”
Despite the upbeat track playing in the background, Chan slows his movements, leading you into a slow dance. The contrast feels silly and intimate all at once, and your heart beats faster as he gazes at you with a soft, unguarded look.
He leans in, his lips brushing yours, and you melt into the kiss. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, anchoring you as the world shrinks to just the two of you and the music in the background.
When you pull back, you tilt your head and narrow your eyes playfully. “Do you do this with every girl who comes into your booth?”
Chan smirks, his dimples making another appearance. “Absolutely not,” he says smoothly, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’m very selective about who gets into my booth… especially who gets to touch my turntable.” He pauses, his grin turning cheeky. “And let’s be honest, no one handles my knobs like you do.”
Your jaw drops as you laugh at his lewd joke, swatting his arm. “Chris!”
He laughs along with you, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “What? It’s true,” he says with a wink, pulling you back into his arms for another dance, the music now forgotten as the two of you move to your own rhythm.
The music hums softly in the background as Chan’s lips move with yours, his hands firmly holding your waist as the two of you sink into the plush sofa. The warmth of his body against yours, combined with the way he kisses you—urgent yet tender—sends shivers down your spine.
Chan’s fingers trace slow, teasing patterns along your sides as the kiss deepens, pulling you closer. His breath hitches as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a low groan from him.
Then comes the knocking.
Chan stiffens slightly but doesn’t stop, his lips still lingering on yours. When the knocking persists, you reluctantly pull back, breathless. “Chris,” you murmur, your lips still brushing his. “Someone’s at the door.”
He groans audibly, his forehead dropping against yours. “Ignore it,” he mutters, his voice heavy with frustration.
The knocking grows more insistent, and you nudge him lightly. “You can’t just ignore it forever.”
With a resigned sigh, Chan pulls himself up, running a hand through his messy hair as he trudges to the door. He swings it open, already prepared to send whoever it is away, but freezes when he sees Minho leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Chris,” Minho greets with a smirk, his tone infuriatingly casual. “Nice party you’re having. Could hear it from my place.”
Chan narrows his eyes and lets out a sigh. “What do you want now, Minho?”
Before Minho can reply, you appear behind Chan, peeking over his shoulder. “Minho,” you say with a smile. “What brings you here?”
Minho straightens up and gives you a polite nod before turning back to Chan. “I actually need a favor,” he starts, leaning just a little too casually against the doorframe. “There’s this heavy piece of furniture I need to move from my old apartment, and I figured Chris here could help me out. It’s too much to handle on my own.”
Chan’s jaw clenches, clearly unimpressed by the request. Deep down, he’s looking for an excuse to say no, but when you glance up at him with an encouraging smile, he knows he’s already lost.
“That’s so nice of you to ask Chris,” you say warmly. “He’s always so helpful.”
Chan exhales sharply, knowing he can’t refuse in front of you. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone begrudging. “When do you need help?”
“Tonight,” Minho replies, his grin sly and victorious. “I’ll swing by to pick you up in... 15 minutes?”
“Okay,” Chan replies just so the conversation ends quickly.
“Thanks, man.” Minho gives Chan a quick pat on the shoulder before sauntering off, clearly pleased with himself.
Chan closes the door a little harder than necessary, turning to you with a pout. “You know I didn’t actually want to do that, right?”
You laugh softly and loop your arms around his neck. “I know,” you tease. “But I like having a boyfriend who’s nice and kind. It’s very attractive.”
Chan pouts deeper, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t like him.”
You nudge him playfully. “Come on, Chris. We didn’t like each other at first either, remember?”
He crosses his arms, his pout unrelenting. “This is different. I’ll never, ever be in love with Minho.”
Laughing, you pull him into a hug, resting your head against his chest. “Good,” you murmur with a smirk. “One reformed fuckboy is enough. I don’t think I could handle another one.”
He softens under your touch, his arms coming around you as he mumbles, “I told you, I’m not that anymore.”
You lean back just enough to meet his eyes, a teasing smile on your lips. “Exactly. That’s why I’m keeping you.”
He grins despite himself, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his earlier frustration melting away entirely. He sighs as he pulls away, knowing he has to get ready.
“I'll go get changed.”
You playfully slap his butt as he walks towards his room. “Now, that’s my good boy!”
...
Full fic will be released this Friday, Dec 20!
Things I can absolutely hear Chris saying in bed:
"Fuck, good girl" - classic. His voice? Instant nut.
"That's it. Fucking take it." - yes sir I don't know where I am the room is spinning.
"Come on, you're not done yet." - all in a days work the job is never done.
"Oh, you're being greedy today, huh?" -yes always hello?
"Ah, that's not fair. You're doing that on purpose." - probably digging your nails into his back to make him nut quicker lmao.
"Nah, you don't need my help. You can do it." - legs giving out but he doesn't cater until you're collapsing sorry.
"Fuck, don't hurt yourself." - deepthroating too enthusiastically, sorry champ.
"One more, yeah? Just for me." - Yes boss on it boss.
"Jesus Christ, you're gonna make me cum." - BET
"You're not tapping out already, are ya?" - bro I'm dying I'm ascending earth.
"Fuck yourself on it. Yeah, just like that." - what year is it even.
"Stop hiding from me. Lemme see you." - suffocate me with a pillow I can't.
"Fuck, look at that pretty cunt." - SUE ME. HE IS VULGAR.
"All mine, yeah? My fucking girl." - END MY SUFFERING
THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.
PART III
Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)
Chapters: Part I / Part II
Synopsis: After a mishap on his part, you doubt that Chan is ready for a relationship but he is determined to prove it, except that he's having problems following your one condition. (17k words)
Author's note: Sorry for the late post. Hope you like the new chapter and don't forget to share your thoughts on it x
Chan has always been the type to run when conversations gets hard, when the truth is too heavy to carry. But not today.
Today, he is standing still, facing it head-on. His hand hovers over the wood, hesitating for only a second before he knocks again, his heart is beating out of his chest.
The second knock seems to last forever, but then, the door creaks open and youu stand there, looking at him with an expression that made it clear you aren’t surprised to see him.
Chan feels a lump forming in his throat—he was expecting more. Maybe shock, or even anger. But what he gets is quiet resignation, and that hurt more than he thought it would.
“Can we talk?” His voice comes out softer than he intended, laced with the weight of what he needed to say. His eyes searched yours for any sign of what you're feeling, but you are calm, too calm.
For a moment, you consider his request, eyes narrowing slightly before you step aside to let him in.
Chan exhales a breath he hasn’t realized he is holding and steps past the threshold. The apartment feels familiar, yet foreign—last night’s tension still lingering in the air like a ghost. He can feel the weight of his own mistake pressing down on his shoulders as he moved toward the living room.
You followed behind him, closing the door with a soft click before turning to face him, waiting for him to speak.
Chan runs a hand through his hair, his nerves making him fidget more than usual. He isn’t used to this—staying when things got hard. But here he is, about to dive headfirst into the conversation he would have normally avoided.
“I’m sorry,” he begins in the best way there is: with an apology
“About last night. I know it looked bad,” he winces as the whole incident flashes through his eyes.
Your expression remained unreadable, and that only made his stomach twist. He pauses, carefully find the right words to say next.
“I sent that text before you came over,” he admits, his eyes finally meeting yours. “It was stupid, I know. I was angry... knowing you went on that date. I acted out of impulse, and I didn’t even think she’d show up. Hell, I didn’t even think you’d come.”
You cross your arms in front of you, your silence heavy with expectation and he knows you are waiting for more.
“I messed up,” he continues, the next best thing to do is acknowledging his mistake.
“It’s my fault. I should’ve never sent that text, and I’m so sorry for how things turned out,” he continues, his voice tinted with regret.
Chan’s chest aches with the weight of the confession. He is baring it all, and the fear of rejection, of messing this up even more, is creeping up on him. He takes a step closer, his gaze softening as he looks at you.
“I just... I didn’t want to lose you. And when I saw you with someone else, it hurt. More than I expected it to,” He painfully admits, then he stops talking and waiting for you to respond.
For what feels like an eternity, the silence hangs between you and him like a barrier. Finally, you sigh, dropping your arms to your sides.
“I know it wasn’t great timing,” you begin, your voice calm but firm. “And I know you didn’t mean for things to go the way they did, but Chris... this isn’t just about last night.”
Chan blinks his eyes repeatedly, surprised, “What do you mean?”
You turn to lean against the back of the sofa, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About how fast all of this has been moving, and maybe... maybe I moved on too quickly from my last relationship.”
Then you look away as if searching for the right words, “Maybe we both aren’t ready for this.”
The idea of losing you now, after everything, is unbearable. His heart is sinking but he sees the doubt in your eyes, the walls you are building to protect yourself. And yet, he couldn’t walk away from this—not when he is feeling things he hasn’t felt in a long time.
“I know I’m not perfect,” he says, taking another step closer, his voice thick with emotion. “And I know I’ve made mistakes. But what I feel for you... it’s real. And it’s different from anything I’ve felt in a long time.”
Your eyes flicking up to meet his, and for the first time, he sees something soften in your expression. He presses on, sensing that this is his only chance to convince you.
“I’m not the guy I used to be,” he continues, his voice growing more confident. “Yeah, I’ve had my moments, and yeah, I’ve been a fuckboy. But that’s not who I want to be with you. I want this to work. I want us to work.”
The vulnerability in his voice hit you harder than you expected. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the raw honesty in his words. And despite all the doubts and fears swirling in your mind, there is something about the way he is standing here, owning up to his mistakes, that makes you want to believe him.
“I don’t want another heartbreak, Chris,” you openly share, “The last thing I need is to go through that again.”
He nods, fully understanding the weight of your words but it only encourages him to convince you more, “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here because I care about you. More than I can put into words.”
For a moment, neither of you say anything. The room feels thick with emotion, but there is also something else—a glimmer of hope. Something worth fighting for.
You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you look at him, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. But all you see is sincerity, and that is enough to make you consider his plea.
“Okay,” you finally whisper, “Let’s give it a shot.”
Chan’s face lights up with a warm smile, his heart swelling with happiness at your decision. But the joy in his expression doesn’t last long as you look at him seriously, your gaze sharp.
“In one condition,” you add.
His smile falters, and a flicker of panic replaces it. “W-What condition?”
“There’ll be no sex,” you say plainly, your voice calm and firm.
“No–no sex?” He stammers, looking at you like you’ve just told him he’s not allowed to breathe. His eyes widen, his mind scrambling to process what you’ve just said.
You nod, your expression unwavering. “I don’t want you to confuse this— physical attraction with emotional connection... Sex will only distract us from our goal.”
Chan’s mouth opens slightly, as if he’s going to protest, but no words come out. He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as he tries to gather his thoughts.
After a moment, he nods, though his expression is one of disbelief. “Okay... okay, no sex.” His voice is strained, but he’s doing his best to sound agreeable.
But then, something flickers in his eyes, and a small hope sneaks back in.
“Just sex, right?” He asks for clarification, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face. “I’m still allowed to kiss you...?”
Your eyes narrow slightly, and a sly smile spreads across your lips. “I’m afraid not.”
His face falls, the hope vanishing in an instant. “Not at all?” He asks, his voice horrified.
“At all,” you confirm, your tone playful but firm.
He stares at you, his expression a mix of shock and despair. “You’re serious?” He mutters, more to himself than to you.
You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow as if you’ve just remembered something else. “Oh, and that includes no more barging into my place.”
Chan blinks, still processing the former information when your next statement hits him like a second wave.
“I know you’ve been keeping my spare keys," you say with your eyes narrowed at him, "I want them back.”
He closes his eyes, letting out a long, exasperated sigh as if he’s in the middle of a nightmare he desperately wants to wake up from. But when his eyes open, nothing has changed. You’re still standing there, waiting for him to comply.
“Come on,” you say, nudging his arm gently, “give them back.”
With a deep, reluctant sigh, Chan reaches into his jeans pocket, his movements slow, as if giving up the keys is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He pulls them out and holds them in his hand for a moment before finally passing them over to you.
“Thank you,” you say sweetly, taking the keys from him.
He watches you with a defeated look on his face, his shoulders slumping as you put the keys away. His lips press into a tight line, clearly still processing the fact that not only has he agreed to no sex, but now he doesn’t even have access to your place anymore.
Chan sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is going to be harder than I thought."
You catch his thoughtful expression and smirk, a playful glint in your eyes. “Well, you can just quit now,” you tease, the words light but with a hint of challenge.
His eyes snap to yours, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Oh, just wait and see,” he replies, his voice low, but there’s a spark of determination behind it.
The teasing grin lingers on your lips, but Chan’s heart is set. This isn’t just about sticking to your rules—it’s about showing you, through his actions, that he’s no longer the guy who flirts and leaves when things get complicated. He’s here, and he’s staying.
You chuckle softly, shaking your head as if amused by his newfound resolve. “We’ll see.”
"You will," he boldly remarks, his voice steady, and there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. It’s not just a flirty remark or an empty promise. It’s real.
This time, it’s different. He’s different. And he’s going to show you that he’s ready to be the person you deserve.
-
When Chan thinks about it again, you’re not asking for much beyond that one condition—but deep down, he knows it’s more than that. It’s not just about avoiding physical intimacy; it’s about proving himself. He’s not the guy who plays games or casually dates for fun anymore. He’s not that fuckboy. He’s changed, and he’s ready for something real, something meaningful.
However, words are just words until he acts on them.
That’s why Chan waits in the lobby around the time you usually get home from work. To pass the time, he chats with the new guy working the concierge, trying to distract himself from the nervous energy building up.
The second you step into his radar, he can almost sense it. He turns his head toward the entrance, and there you are—pushing through the apartment door with a bag slung over one shoulder and another in hand.
Without missing a beat, Chan rushes toward you, grabbing the bag from your hand. “Great day at work, darling?” he asks with a cheeky grin.
You let out a low scoff, eyeing him skeptically. “And you’re still doing your best at work, huh?”
“Well, I aim to please,” he playfully responds, giving you a wink.
Before you can protest, he takes your bag to the concierge and talks to the new guy to keep it safe, leaving you standing there, eyebrows raised.
“Why... what are you doing with my bag?” you ask, looking at him in confusion.
“He’ll be keeping it safe,” he simply replies, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “While I’m taking you out for dinner.”
Before you can get another word in, he takes your hand, pulling you with him as he drags you right back out the door. You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
It’s clear: Chan’s not just saying things this time—he’s showing you.
The restaurant he is taking you for dinner is only two blocks away from your apartment building, and it surprises you that you didn’t know about it until now.
“How come I didn’t know about this place before?” you ask in wonder, chewing on your food.
Chan clasps his hands together in front of him and props them under his chin, “Maybe if you were being a lovely neighbor from the start, I would’ve taken you here sooner,” he teases.
You narrow your eyes and take a jab back at him, “And maybe if you weren’t busy taking girls home and avoiding them in the morning, you would’ve taken me here sooner.”
Chan sighs in defeat, putting his hands off the table, deciding to let the conversation slide. “But you agree that you like the food, right?”
You shovel another spoonful of food into your mouth and nod in approval, "Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.
Spotting something on the corner of your mouth, he grabs a napkin and, with a soft touch, dabs it away. You look at him, raising an eyebrow.
“You had something on your face. Was I just supposed to leave it there?” he defends with his grin.
You take the napkin from him and finish the job yourself. “You know, you don’t have to try this hard,” you say.
It's not a surprise that you would think that way, that he’s overcompensating, but he's doing it all because he genuinely cares for you.
“What? I’m just taking my lovely neighbor to one of my favorite spots nearby,” he says with his signature dimpled grin.
Shaking your head, you sip your drink, unsure how to respond. Before you can think of anything, he changes the subject.
“So, what are we doing this weekend?” he asks, as if it’s a given that you’re spending it together.
“Bold of you to assume I have nothing to do this weekend,” you say.
“Well, if you do have something to do, I can only hope it’s me,” he says with a wink.
You groan and toss a crumpled napkin at him. “I have to work this weekend.”
His groan is louder than yours. “If you’re working weekends too, when do you have time for me?”
You shoot him a look. “As far as I know, you didn’t have a problem keeping yourself entertained before.”
Chan’s smile turns cryptic as he slumps in his seat. “True... but it would be fun to play with you.”
“You remember my one condition, right?” you remind him.
He tosses the crumpled napkin back at you. “There are so many ways to have fun without sex.”
“Sshh,” you shush him, glancing around.
“Why are you still weird about it? We’ve had sex twice al—”
You cover his mouth with your hand, glaring. “You might as well announce to the whole restaurant we’ve had sex twice!”
He pulls your hand away, grinning wide as if he’s about to do it for real, just to see the horror in your eyes. But then he bursts into laughter instead and catching you off guard by kissing your hand softly which makes you withdraw your hand immediately.
“Did you really think I would do that?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.
“For a second, yes,” you admit, a smile tugging at your lips.
“You were right,” he playfully says.
When the server arrives with the bill, you get ahead of Chan, placing your credit card down before he can.
“So you’re the one paying in this relationship?” he teases. “I could get used to that.”
“Don’t,” you warn, rolling your eyes.
The server returns with your card and receipt, but she also gives Chan a familiar smile. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she says, flirtatiously and completely dismissed your presence there.
“Uh, yeah, I’ve been busy,” he replies, glancing nervously at you.
“Next time you stop by, I’ll give you a little free service,” she says, smiling a bit too much.
You’re not blind to her tone, but you keep quiet as the two of you leave the restaurant. Once you’re back at the apartment building, you retrieve your bag from the concierge, muttering your thanks as you take it. Chan offers to carry it for you as you head up in the elevator.
“You should invite that cute server to play with you this weekend,” you say, a hint of jealousy in your voice.
His smile grows, sensing you care more than you let on. He doesn’t respond, leaving you to wonder if he’s considering your suggestion. Even after the elevator doors open, he follows you to your apartment, still carrying your bag.
“I can take it inside for you,” he offers, clearly hoping for an invite in.
“I can take it myself,” you say, effectively blocking his plan.
He hands over the bag with a pout, lingering as you unlock your door. He leans against the doorframe, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
“You’re going away for the whole weekend, and I get nothing?” he asks, inching closer.
You cross your arms. “And what do you expect?”
“A kiss would do,” he says, almost shyly, though the glint in his eyes says otherwise.
You shake your head, staying firm on your one condition. “No kisses.”
“Just a nibble then?” He grins wider.
“A nibble?” you laugh. “I’m not some... snack.”
“You’re not. You’re a whole damn feast,” he says, lowering himself to your eye level, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and not hiding his eyes from looking at them.
Your breath hitches as he inches closer, his lips brushing past your ear. His boldness catches you off guard, and your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your jaw. Then, just as he’s about to claim your lips, you block him with your fingers.
“You’re good,” you admit with a smile, “but not that good.”
For a guy who always gets what he wants when he wants it, this is frustrating. He lets out a heavy sigh then drops his head onto your shoulder.
“I have to go,” you mutter, even as you let him hold you.
“Just give me a minute,” he mumbles, nuzzling his head further into your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
He savors the moment, holding onto you a little tighter, soaking in the feel of you against him. Everything about you—your warmth, your softness, your scent— oh, it’s all so right.
“I have to wake up early tomorrow,” you whisper again, rubbing a hand along his broad back.
“Fifteen more seconds,” he mumbles, discreetly letting his hand slide lower, only for you to catch it and place it firmly on your back.
You stay like that for a moment longer, neither of you wanting to let go until you finally pull away.
“Goodnight, Chris,” you say softly, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Goodnight,” he replies with a smile, slowly letting you go, though everything in him wants to hold on.
As you take a step back, he does the same, the two of you locked in a gaze to keep the intimacy of the moment continues through your eyes until you close the door with a faint smile that lingers in the back of his head.
Letting you go isn’t easy, but sometimes he knows he has to if he wants to bring you closer.
-
Chan lies awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The weekend he had envisioned was simple: hanging out with you, maybe grabbing dinner or spending lazy afternoons together. But since you weren’t around, the plan had crumbled, leaving him stranded with nothing to do.
He could go out, like he usually does on weekends, but something in him resists. It's too easy to slip back into old habits, to fall into the routine of partying and avoiding the emptiness that comes with it. So instead, he’s here, in his apartment, doing nothing.
With a sigh, he reaches across the bed, his hand brushing against the smooth fabric of something familiar—your underwear. He’d kept it from that night, the night everything between you two changed.
Lifting it to his nose, he inhales deeply, letting your scent flood his senses. Just a whiff, and he’s already lost, a fire igniting in his gut. His cock twitches, aroused, stirred by the memory of you.
Closing his eyes, he lets his mind drift back to that night—the way he had kissed you, held you close, felt your warmth pressed against him. He remembers the way his hands explored your body, how he had parted your legs and exposed you, tantalizing and perfect, making his every nerve scream for more.
"Fuck," he mutters, the word hanging heavy in the quiet of his apartment. His frustration is palpable, throbbing inside him.
The thoughts alone aren’t enough. He needs more. He needs you. But you're not here, and that only makes the ache more unbearable.
Thankfully, his phone rings, pulling him from the spiral he was sinking into. He groans and drags himself out of bed, grabbing the phone off his nightstand. The call is brief, no more than a minute, but it does the job. It snaps him out of the rut he was teetering on the edge of.
It looks like Chan has to go out tonight after all.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he stares at the text that came through. Someone had pulled out of a gig last minute, and now he’s been asked to fill in. It’s a valid reason to get out of the apartment, at least. Better than staying cooped up and letting his thoughts eat at him.
Before he knows it, he's dressed and heading out the door. The club he’s heading to isn’t unfamiliar—it’s one of his favorite spots to work. Maybe it's the crowd, or maybe it’s just because he desperately needs a distraction tonight, but it feels less like work as he steps inside and feels the pulse of the music hit him.
He takes a deep breath and dives into the scene, ready to let the night carry him wherever it leads, all while keeping you in the back of his mind.
After his set, he decides to hang around the club for a bit, rewarding himself with a drink. It’s been a good night, the crowd was lively, and he deserved a little downtime.
He leans against the counter, sipping slowly as the music thumps around him. Girls have been giving him smiles, glancing his way, but he’s used to that. It’s nothing he can’t handle, especially now when he’s keeping his focus sharp.
Then the bartender sets another drink down in front of him.
“This one’s on her,” he says, nodding toward the far corner of the bar.
Chan follows the bartender’s gaze and spots her—a girl with a sultry smile, waving at him. She’s undeniably attractive, but he’s not interested.
Still, it’s just a drink, and rejecting it feels unnecessary. So he lifts his glass, offering her a polite smile of thanks from across the bar.
Before he can even take a sip, someone else steps up to him, practically radiating anger.
“Are you flirting with my girlfriend?” the guy growls, eyes dark and filled with rage.
“What?” Chan responds, confused and caught off guard.
“I said, are you flirting with my girlfriend?” The man’s voice rises, his presence looming over Chan.
“I’m not,” Chan says quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “She bought me a drink, and I thanked her. That’s all.”
But the guy isn’t having it. He steps closer, grabbing the front of Chan’s shirt with one fist. “How dare you lie to me!” he shouts, pulling Chan closer, their faces inches apart.
Before things can escalate further, the girl who started all of this rushes over, forcing herself between them.
“Stop! He’s telling the truth!” she says, tugging at her boyfriend’s arm and dragging him away from Chan.
Chan can see the regret in her eyes as she mouths, “I’m sorry,” before leading her fuming boyfriend toward the exit.
As they leave, Chan sighs, straightening his shirt and shaking his head. Maybe tonight, he should have just stayed in his apartment after all.
-
Chan arrives at his place, feeling weighed down by the events of the day. You've only been gone a day, but it feels like an eternity to him. Everything feels off without you around, stretching out every second into what feels like endless suffering.
He needs you. Desperately.
He knows it's late, and he isn’t even sure if you're home yet, but he finds himself walking toward your door. His feet move on their own, driven by an overwhelming need for comfort. When he gets there, he knocks gently at first, waiting in the quiet hallway. No response.
With a sigh, Chan leans his forehead against your door, feeling a sinking hopelessness wash over him.
“Please… open the door,” he mutters, almost to himself.
Then, to his surprise, he hears movement on the other side. He steps back quickly, his heart racing as the door creaks open, revealing you—looking slightly disoriented, your hair tousled from what must’ve been sleep.
"I'm sorry," Chan says, his voice soft with guilt. "I didn’t know you were home already."
"I just got home not long ago," you reply, your voice still thick with sleep.
Seeing you—standing there in the low light, with tired eyes and that familiar warmth—pulls at his heart in a way that makes him ache. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself before speaking again.
“I’ve had a really, really bad day,” he admits, his voice low, almost breaking.
The truth is, you’re a big part of why his day feels so unbearable. The distance between you gnaws at him, creating a physical ache he can’t shake. He needs you, even just your presence, to feel whole again.
Without thinking, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently but firmly, as if letting go would mean losing his grip on everything.
"Can I stay the night with you?" His voice is heavy with vulnerability.
You hesitate, shaking your head. "You know that we can't—"
“I swear I’m not trying to do anything else,” he cuts in quickly, his eyes pleading. "I just... I just want to be with you tonight. Please?"
The sadness in his voice is raw, and you can see how much he needs this, needs you. You massage your neck, the exhaustion of the day visible in your eyes as you consider his request.
For a moment, silence hangs between you two. Then, finally, you nod. “Okay.”
From the way you're giving in with less resistance than usual, Chan can tell you're too tired to fight him on this tonight. He feels a pang of guilt but, at the same time, relief. A win is a win, and right now, he just needs to be near you, hoping his presence might bring some comfort, as yours does to him.
Once you let him in, there's no more talking. You silently lead him to your bed, making space for him without any fuss.
"You can have that side," you gesture to the left side, your voice soft with exhaustion.
Any side would do. As long as he's here, next to you, he couldn't care less. You crawl under the covers while Chan stands there, starting to unbutton his shirt.
"What are you doing?" Your voice holds suspicion, your eyes peeking over the blankets.
He smirks, pulling the shirt off. "I told you I sleep naked."
"Naked naked?" you ask, eyebrows raising as his fingers move to his jeans.
He notices the way your eyes fixated on his body, he knows you like what you're seeing so he makes a good show out of it. He's working his jeans open in a painstakingly slow motions, stripping down to his dark boxers.
"Your expression is filthy," he jokes, "what are you thinking?"
You let out a scoff and tuck yourself into the blanket, trying so hard to not to be affected by what he just did.
Chan can't help but quietly smiling in triumphant and comes over to the bed. Climbing into bed next to you feels surreal. It's more than just sharing a space now; you're sharing your bed.
The scent of your sheets is intoxicating, subtle yet enough to make him feel like he's sinking into you even without touching. He pulls the covers over himself, careful to leave a respectful gap between you two, honoring your one condition.
He rolls onto his side, facing you, while you lay on your back, eyes closed. The darkness wraps around both of you, the room heavy with quiet and the faint smell of your perfume lingering in the air.
"What happened?" you ask, eyes still shut, your voice breaking the silence.
"What?" Chan asks, fingers barely brushing the edge of your arm, almost on instinct.
"You said you had a bad day," you repeat, softly, your voice drifting through the stillness.
He sighs, staring up at the ceiling now. "Well, I went out tonight and I tried to be... good," he starts, his voice low. "But it turned out to be not easy."
You don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, your presence alone urging him to be honest.
"I was at this club after my set, just hanging out. Someone sent me a drink, and next thing I know, this guy is in my face, accusing me of flirting with his girlfriend," he explains, his tone frustrated. "I didn’t even do anything. But... it just made me realize how easy it is for things to get messed up. One small misunderstanding, and it all spirals."
His fingers lightly brush your arm now, the contact gentle, but you don't push him away. He takes that as permission to continue.
"I don’t want to be that guy anymore—the one who gets mixed up in stuff like that," he murmurs. "I’m trying to be better... for you."
You don’t respond right away, your breathing steady, as if you’re already halfway to sleep. But your silence is enough of an answer for him. He feels calmer, just being here with you.
"He almost punched me," Chan dramatically shares to gain sympathy from you.
You chuckle softly, "So, the usual, huh?"
"The usual, yeah," he responds, grinning.
"But that's also where you're doing it wrong, Chris," you say, turning your body to face him and see his eyebrows knit in confusion.
"You're doing it for me." You say, resting your hand under your head as you clarify, "When you should be doing this for you."
That sinks in, and it hits him why everything's felt like a struggle lately. He's been trying to change because of external pressure—because of you—not because he truly wanted it for himself.
"Don’t get me wrong," you continue gently, your voice low and soothing. "I appreciate that you’re willing to change for me, but I want you to change because you want it. For yourself."
Your words, so calm and caring, open up a new perspective for him. It's not just about trying to impress or be better for you, but about becoming someone he's proud of. It all feels clearer now, and at the same time, he feels a deep sense of reassurance—he really is with the right person.
"Can we cuddle?" Chan asks, pulling his best puppy eyes to win you over.
You don’t answer verbally, but the way you open your arms for him is all the permission he needs.
Without wasting a second, he slides in closer, wrapping himself around you, his arm draped over your body as he nestles his head into the crook of your neck. The warmth of your body envelops him, bringing a sense of comfort he desperately needed.
"Goodnight, Chris," you murmur, patting his head softly.
"Goodnight," he mumbles back, sneaking in a kiss on your jaw.
You let it slide this time, smiling into the darkness before closing your eyes, drifting off.
Chan, however, is still wide awake, his mind buzzing with the proximity between you two. There's only a thin layer of clothes separating your bodies, and he's doing his best to respect your boundaries, but the way your warmth radiates against him makes sleep the last thing on his mind.
Still, he takes a deep breath, doing his best to settle down, grateful for this moment of closeness with you.
-
Chan is used to waking up unsure of his surroundings, but this morning is different. He knows exactly where he is, and for once, he doesn't immediately rush off. Instead, he nestles his head closer to yours, savoring the warmth of your body pressed against his while you're still unaware that he's awake.
The sound of your alarm blaring from your phone finally breaks the silence. You groan, forcing yourself to wake up, eyes still closed as your hand fumbles around the bedside table to turn it off.
After silencing the alarm, you yawn and stretch, your body still heavy with sleep. "Ugh, I have to go to work," you mutter, tapping Chan’s forearm in a silent request for him to release you.
But instead of letting you go, he tightens his hold, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "No, stay," he mumbles, his voice low and groggy.
"Not everyone makes money from spinning records," you tease, a playful jab at his career.
"I’m not going to take that personally," he grumbles, his voice muffled as he refuses to lift his head from your neck.
You chuckle softly, your fingers naturally slipping into his curls. Gently, you start brushing them with your fingertips, feeling the texture of his hair as you absentmindedly comment, "Is this your natural hair?"
"Hmm," he hums, affirming.
"They’re a bit dry and..." You pull back slightly to take a better look, "...a little dull too."
"Mmh..." he hums again, clearly enjoying the gentle scratching of your fingers against his scalp.
"You should condition them better," you suggest, offering hair advice out of the blue.
An idea forms in Chan’s mind, and though he knows you’ll likely see right through him, he can’t resist. He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, a cheeky grin forming on his lips as he asks, "Can you show me how to take care of my curls?"
The playful gleam in his eyes is unmistakable, and you can already tell what he's up to. But the question catches you off guard enough to make you laugh.
"Show you how exactly?" you ask, raising an eyebrow as you pretend to play dumb.
Chan, trying to sound casual but failing miserably, stumbles through his words, "You know... we could, uh, get in the shower together, and you can, um, show me how to... condition my curls, or whatever…" He flashes you that dimpled grin, the one that always manages to make his adorable babbling irresistible.
You lift your head slightly, propping it up with one hand as you look at him skeptically. "You want us to shower together so I can teach you how to wash your hair?"
He nods, eyes wide with feigned innocence, fully expecting a refusal and maybe a reminder of the boundary you’ve set about physical intimacy. But instead, you surprise him by giving in.
"Okay," you simply say.
The stunned expression on his face is priceless, his eyes widening further as if he didn’t quite hear you right. "Wait, really?"
You shrug nonchalantly, "Sure. You want to learn, right?" You give him a smirk, teasing him without saying it outright, fully aware of what he's really after.
His grin grows, and for a second, he looks like he’s about to leap out of bed with excitement. "Yeah, of course," he replies, trying to keep his voice steady, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him.
Without another word, you swing your legs out of bed, standing up and stretching a bit before heading toward the bathroom. Chan watches you, dumbfounded for a second, before scrambling to follow.
-
Nothing could have prepared Chan for this.
The moment you slip your nightdress off and pull your underwear down your legs, his brain shuts down. His eyes roam over your bare skin, every curve, every inch of you exposed, leaving nothing to the imagination.
As if that weren't enough, you gather your hair into a messy bun on top of your head, exposing your neck—a sight that only intensifies his desire. He stands there, frozen, unable to decide which part of you to look at first.
You step into the shower, and Chan steps aside, barely breathing as the water begins to cascade down your body. He watches the droplets slide over your skin, wishing desperately that he could replace the water, that he could all over you like that.
When you turn to face him, he lets out a low breath, trying to keep his composure. His gaze travels down your body, soaking in every detail, every inch that he so badly wants to touch. He grips the shower stall handle tightly, fighting the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you.
Your hands slide down your body, the action as innocent as washing off yesterday's weariness, but in his mind, it's anything but innocent. You're driving him crazy, and you know it. The way you look at him, allowing him to watch you like this—it's tantalizing, almost cruel.
"Okay, first," you break the silence, your voice echoing in the small shower chamber. "We need to get your hair wet."
He almost forgot the pretense of this shower. He tears his eyes away from your body and focuses on your words, trying to remember that this was supposed to be about hair care. You take the showerhead and aim it at him, chuckling as he remains rooted to the floor.
"It's hard if you stand so far away," you tease.
He steps closer, knowing that proximity will only make things worse for him. Still, he obeys. The moment you're close enough, you bring the showerhead to his hair, gently wetting it with your fingers brushing through his curls. He's so close to you, his lips mere inches from yours. He has to fight the urge to kiss you, to taste your skin.
"Now it's wet and ready," you murmur, putting the showerhead aside and reaching for the shampoo. You work it into his scalp, massaging it in slow, circular motions.
"That feels good," Chan mutters, his voice rough with desire.
"Yeah?" you whisper, stepping even closer, your chest now grazing his. "You like that?"
"Yeah, I like that," he says, his voice strained as he struggles to keep it together.
The intense eye contact is too much for him, and though he's usually good at holding a gaze, this is different. He closes his eyes, trying to calm the heat building inside him. His body is betraying him, and the situation down there is getting harder—literally—to control.
"Okay, now we're going to wash it out," you say, grabbing the showerhead again and rinsing the shampoo from his hair.
Chan almost groans when you step away, the loss of your touch leaving him aching for more. He keeps his eyes closed as you instructed, but every brush of your fingers against his scalp, every sigh you let out, sends him spiraling.
"It's all good now," you say, smiling as you wipe a stray bit of foam from his face.
He's at ease, yet burning inside. He feels taken care of, but also teased to the brink of madness.
"What's next?" he asks, his voice hoarse.
"We're going to condition it next," you explain, turning away to get the conditioner. "Your curls need moisture, so you have to condition regularly. Or just condition without shampooing sometimes."
He nods, barely hearing your words. The proximity, the feel of your breath on his ear, is driving him wild. As you apply the conditioner, you're even closer than before, so close that he can feel your breath on his neck. He’s barely holding on.
Then you ask, casually, "Do you want me to wash your body too?"
The offer hits him like a shockwave, and for a moment, he can't speak. Blinking, he nods, his heart pounding. You take a bar of soap, lathering it up before sliding your hands over his skin. Every touch is electric, and when your hand glides over his abs, he clenches them, trying to maintain control. Your hand goes lower, tracing the path along his pelvic bone.
But then, mercifully, your hand moves away. You rub down his legs and even grab his rear, making him chuckle nervously.
"Something funny?" you ask, feigning innocence.
"Nothing," he replies, swallowing hard as he lets you continue. He’s letting you do whatever you want, helpless under your hands.
When you finish, the two of you just stand there under the warm water, the tension in the air thickening by the second. The bathroom feels smaller, the space between you more unbearable.
Chan snaps. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you flush against him, his body fitting against yours perfectly. He presses his lips against your neck, kissing the soft spot under your ear. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his dark, lust-filled gaze.
"What’s next?" he growls.
You wrap your arms around his neck, dragging your lips along his jaw until your mouth hovers near his ear.
"I'm going out of the shower," you whisper, "and I'll give you a few minutes to..." Your eyes flick downward, pointedly glancing at his hardening member. "...sort out your situation."
You kiss his cheek and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself. With one last playful smile, you say, "I can't be late for work."
And just like that, you leave him standing there—wet, aroused, and utterly flabbergasted.
-
Chan’s life is different now—less chaotic, more focused. He’s found a new rhythm, avoiding old habits and temptations, reminding himself that he can be better. At work, he's polite, giving empty promises when girls ask him for drinks, knowing full well he has no intention of following through. His nights out have become rare, and if he feels that sexual urges, he'll channel that energy into working out at the gym.
Tonight, he's watching for you, keeping his apartment door open so he can see when you arrive home. The moment he hears the elevator chime, he rushes to the door and spots you stepping out, looking exhausted from work.
“Hey, neighbor,” he greets, leaning casually against the doorframe.
You give him a tired but warm smile. “Hey.”
Chan walks over, grabbing one of your bags to help lighten your load. “Come on, I cooked us dinner.”
The sight of you eating so well makes him feel proud. Every bite you take feels like a reward for the time he spent preparing the meal. When you finish your plate and look at him with a shy smile, asking for more, he grins and happily gets up, placing more fried rice on your plate.
“Thank you,” you say sincerely as he refills your glass of water before sitting back down.
“You’re very welcome,” Chan responds, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment.
Dinner ends with a cold can of beer, and soon, you're both on the sofa, enjoying the comfortable silence that fills the space. Chan sits there, the question he’s been wanting to ask weighing on his mind. He takes a breath.
“Do you have plans this Saturday?” he asks casually.
“Why?” you inquire, taking a sip of water, sensing something behind the question.
“A friend asked me to play at his sister’s wedding,” he explains, his arm resting on the back of the sofa, his hand just brushing your shoulder. “and I want you to come with me.”
“As a date?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
Chan grins, trying to suppress his excitement. “As a date, yes.”
“I’d love to,” you say, but something in your tone makes him sense there’s more.
“But?” he asks, bracing for the letdown.
“I can’t. I have a guest coming over that day,” you explain apologetically.
“A guest?” His eyebrows raise in curiosity.
You nod. “Yeah, a guest.”
“Family?”
“No.”
“Colleague?”
“Nope.”
“Friends?” he asks, growing more curious with each question.
You shake your head, hesitating for a moment before finally revealing, “Ex-boyfriend.”
Chan leans back, exasperated. “So, you're not coming with me because Lee is coming over?”
“Yes,” you answer, trying to keep things simple.
He stares at you, dumbfounded. “But why?”
“Because I told him to,” you respond, trying to sound nonchalant, though you know it’s frustrating him.
“What?!” Chan looks at you in disbelief, his eyes wide.
You laugh softly at his reaction, putting your glass down and settling into the couch. “I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying to make this work, so, I thought maybe it’s time I do my part too.”
He’s silent, listening intently, trying to understand what you mean.
“I told Lee to come so he can take his things from my place,” you explain. “That way, I can have space for… new things.”
Chan’s pout fades into a smile as the meaning behind your words sinks in. Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently on your lap. For a moment, he can’t believe it—the two of you are really doing this. You're starting fresh, together.
“Okay,” he says softly, understanding now. “I get it.”
“Thank you,” you whisper, smiling back at him.
“I still want you to come with me, though,” he says, the hint of disappointment still lingering.
“I’m sorry,” you reply, genuinely apologetic. Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you offer, “But I can still help you with your hair if you want.”
Chan laughs, his grin returning. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”
Later, when he walks you to your apartment door, he dreads the moment of parting. You share a long, warm embrace, and as usual, you're the first to pull away, though you keep holding his hand for just a little longer.
“Thank you again for dinner,” you say softly.
Chan smirks, joking to lighten the mood. “If you’re really thankful, you should dream of me tonight.”
You smile, playing along. “I’ll try.”
“And I’ll try to dream of you too,” he pauses, his voice dropping to a mischievous whisper, “preferably naked.”
You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh. “Good luck with that!”
He gently caresses your face, his eyes warm as they meet yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly, then adds with a smirk, “I think we should start picking pet names.”
You shake your head, but there’s a smile on your face as you step back, ready to go. “Goodnight, Chris.”
“Goodnight… baby?” he tries, testing out the pet name.
You say nothing, just smiling at him one last time before you let go of his hand and step inside, leaving him standing there, heart fluttering, wondering when he’ll get to hold you again.
-
Chan stands in front of the mirror, buttoning up his shirt, though leaving the cuffs open for now. He can’t help but think what a shame it is—looking this good and going to the wedding without a date. You had refused his invitation, but he can’t fault you for it. There’s something good in your intentions, and all he can do is be understanding.
He’s about to grab his suit jacket when there’s a knock at the door. With a smile, he heads to open it, already knowing who it is.
There you stand, a can of hairspray in one hand and a hair straightener in the other. “It’s your hair appointment,” you announce with a grin.
Chan chuckles and motions you inside. He sits in front of the mirror while you stand behind him, carefully styling his hair. As he watches you work, he’s struck by how focused you look—creases forming between your brows, your lips slightly pursed in concentration. He never thought it was possible for someone to be both cute and sexy at the same time, but here you are, proving him wrong.
“Would that suffice?” you ask after spraying his hair one last time.
“No,” Chan says, his tone playful, “not if you’re not coming with me.”
You smile but don’t respond, busying yourself with taming the last few stray hairs at the nape of his neck. “You’re done now,” you announce, satisfied with your work.
He glances at himself in the mirror and smiles. “Aren’t you going to kiss me on the cheek and tell me I look handsome?”
“I don’t remember saying that,” you tease, tidying up the clutter on the table.
Chan stands, smoothing down his shirt, but there’s one more thing to complete his look. He picks up the tie from the table and holds it out to you. “We still have a problem here.”
You glance up, understanding immediately. Without a word, you take the tie from his hands and skillfully knot it around his collar. Your fingers work quickly, and before long, the tie is secured neatly in place.
“Okay, you’re ready now,” you say with a nod.
Chan puts on his suit jacket, then spins around with his arms spread wide, showing off the full look. “How do I look?”
You step closer, and to his surprise, you plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You look handsome,” you say with a soft smile.
He stands there for a moment, warmth spreading through him from that simple gesture. It’s enough to make him feel like he’s already won, even if he’s going to the wedding alone. He places his hands gently on your waist and pulls you closer, his voice soft but persuasive.
"It's not too late to text Lee and tell him to come another day," he suggests, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reconsideration.
You chuckle lightly, looping your arms around his shoulders. "I don’t think it's wise to cancel it on the last minute," you explain, your tone gentle but firm.
He nods, accepting your decision even though it’s not the answer he wanted. At least you have a good reason, and it’s not as if you’re choosing your ex over him. But the tension lingers, and Chan pulls you even closer, savoring this tender moment before Lee shows up and disrupts his day. He knows he has no reason to be jealous, but it nags at him anyway—what if Lee has other intentions with this visit?
"Can't you just... put his things in a box and mail it to him?" He asks, a hint of frustration seeping into his voice.
You chuckle again, tilting your head slightly. "We’re grown-ups, Chris. We broke up on good terms. I don’t see why we can’t be civil after everything."
Chan tightens his grip around you, his eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. "But what if he asks you to get back with him?"
Instead of answering, you raise an eyebrow and ask, "And you think I’d say yes?"
His grin widens, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."
You shake your head, smiling. "Oh, Chris... you're ridiculous."
He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. "Yeah, but I had to ask. I just don't like the idea of him coming around."
"He's just going to come, pick up his things, and leave," you explain, trying to reassure Chan that there’s no need for jealousy.
Chan takes the opportunity to pull you even closer, his arms tightening around you with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "No deep talking, no reminiscing the shared memories, okay? No smiling either," he warns, his voice full of playful intensity.
You laugh at his protectiveness, letting him rest his forehead against yours.
"I love the way you smile," he says suddenly, the words catching you off guard. "I want to tell you to do it more often, but I don't."
"Why?" you ask, curiosity piqued.
"Because you don’t give it to everyone," Chan murmurs, his lips grazing your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. "And I don’t plan on sharing you."
The possessive edge in his voice stirs something in you, and you feel yourself relax, leaning into his embrace. His fingers cup your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly as he draws closer, his gaze flicking down to your lips.
Just as he’s about to close the gap, a knock sounds—not on his door, but across the hall. You gently break away from his hold, heading to check with Chan trailing behind, a bit flustered.
"Oh, Lee, I'm sorry, I was at Chris's place," you say as you open the door and spot your ex, Lee, standing there.
"Oh hey," Lee greets you, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug. A hug that, to Chan, feels way too long. Chan clears his throat loudly, making his presence known.
Lee finally lets go of you and acknowledges him. "Oh, hey, Chris," Lee says, extending his hand for a handshake.
Chan hates that Lee’s actually being nice—he's a good guy, and that makes him feel like the bad guy.
"Hey, Lee," Chan mutters, reluctantly shaking his hand.
"You look dashing. Going somewhere?" Lee asks, genuinely.
"Yeah, uh... a friend's wedding," Chan replies, his earlier hostility fading slightly.
As they exchange pleasantries, you unlock your door and gesture for Lee to come inside. "Please, come in," you say.
"Are you joining us, Chris?" Lee asks, seriously offering for him to stay.
Chan would love nothing more than to stay and keep an eye on things, but he checks the time on his phone and realizes he’s already pushing it if he doesn’t leave now. "I have to go, actually," he says, regret heavy in his voice.
"What a pity! I brought us food," Lee says to you, smiling. "It’s the baked ziti from your favorite place."
You smile awkwardly, glancing at Chan. "That’s so nice of you, Lee."
"See you next time, Chris," Lee says as he steps into your apartment.
Chan sighs, feeling torn between wanting to stay and knowing he has to leave. His chest tightens as he glances at you one last time.
"I’ll see you later, okay?" you say, smiling, though it does little to comfort him.
"Don’t smile at him!" Chan grumbles, trying to cling to his playfully jealous tone.
You laugh softly and surprise him by stepping forward, placing a quick but tender peck on his lips. The brief contact sends butterflies swirling in his stomach.
"Have fun at the wedding," you say sweetly, flashing him one last smile before closing the door.
Chan stands there for a moment, his heart racing, the taste of your lips lingering. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as he turns to leave, knowing that despite everything, you’re still his.
-
Seeing that most of the guests have already left and only a few remain on the dance floor, Chan decides it’s time to wrap up his set. Grabbing the mic, he announces, "Everyone, this is the last dance."
His suit is no longer in its proper form—he ditched the jacket long ago, his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck. He inhales deeply, satisfied with a job well done.
As he packs up, his friend, the groom's brother, hands him a bottle of champagne as a token of gratitude. "You killed it, mate. Thanks for stepping in."
"Anytime, man," Chan says with a grin, accepting the bottle. Just as he’s about to take a sip, a voice interrupts him.
"Are you planning on sharing that?"
He turns around, surprised to see someone he least expected. "Sue?"
"Oh, I thought you forgot about me," Sue says with a teasing smile.
How could he? Sue was his first love, the one who gave him his first heartbreak. She’s older and taller than him, just like before, but Chan sees her differently now—not as the boy who once idolized her, but as a man. Yet, the admiration still lingers.
Sue chuckles and gives him a quick hug. "Of all places, we meet here?"
"I know, right?" Chan shakes his head, still bewildered. "My friend is the brother of the bride."
"And I’m one of the groom's family," Sue says, showing off the dress. "What a small world!"
They share the bottle of champagne in the garden, sitting by the pool as they catch up. The evening air is warm, and the conversation flows easily.
"Is it alright that you're here with me?" Chan asks, glancing around as though expecting someone to pop up and claim her.
"Why wouldn’t it be?" Sue replies.
"I don’t know. I figured your boyfriend would be looking for you soon," Chan jokes, though there’s a part of him that’s curious.
"I don’t have a boyfriend," Sue says casually, taking a sip from the bottle.
Chan arches an eyebrow. "That's a lie!"
Sue playfully elbows him. "Oh, I know you’re happy to know I’m single," she teases.
"You can’t be single," Chan insists.
"But I am," she assures him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"No way," Chan shakes his head, unable to believe it. "I mean, you’re taller and more beautiful than the last time we met. You can’t be single."
Sue leans in, her tone shifting ever so slightly. "And maybe that's why we met again tonight."
The suggestion in her voice throws him off balance, and before he can say anything, they bump into a group of people running around in their underwear, dripping wet and giggling as they pass by. Some guests have clearly taken the after-party to the hot tub.
Sue looks at the now-empty, steaming hot tub and asks, "What do you think?"
"You... you want to get in the hot tub?" Chan asks, incredulous.
"You and me, together," Sue says with a mischievous grin, her fingers already reaching for the zipper of her dress.
Chan's eyes widen as she strips down to her undergarments, standing confidently in front of him.
Before he can protest, she grabs his hand and pulls him toward the tub. "Come on! It’s getting cold!"
Seeing no harm in it—and after all, it’s been a lovely night—Chan relents. He strips down to his boxers and slowly lowers himself into the steaming water. The heat engulfs him, relaxing his muscles.
Sue leans back in the tub, her fingers playfully skimming the surface of the water. "Chris, you’ve really grown since the last time I saw you."
"Nah, I’m still the same," Chan says, feeling oddly shy. Despite the years that have passed, Sue still has a way of making him feel like a nervous kid.
"You're... hot. Like, really hot," Sue says with a giggle, her eyes sweeping over him.
Chan shakes his head, his ears turning red. "Nah, nah."
Sue moves closer, her voice dropping. "I’ll admit, I regretted rejecting you back then."
"You’re only saying that to make me feel better," Chan says, trying to deflect, but there’s a seriousness in her eyes that throws him off.
"Let's hope that's the case," Sue replies, and for a moment, their gazes lock, the tension thickening between them.
The heat of the water and the intensity of her gaze make Chan’s heart race, and he’s not sure if it’s just the temperature that’s making him feel this way. "It’s getting late," he finally says, breaking the moment.
"Yeah, you’re right," Sue agrees, being the first to climb out of the tub. She picks up her dress from the sun chair—and grabs Chan’s clothes as well.
"Hey, Chris," she says, a devilish grin spreading across her face as he’s about to step out of the water. "I have your clothes."
Before he can react, Sue takes off running, leaving Chan standing there, drenched and half-dressed.
"Sue!" Chan shouts, scrambling to get out of the tub. With no other option, he chases after her, his laughter echoing in the night.
As a family member of the wedded family, Sue has a room reserved at the resort, and she generously offers it to Chan so he can clean up after their impromptu dip in the hot tub. Chan stands in the bathroom, holding a hair dryer in one hand and his damp boxers in the other. He’s wrapped in a towel, waiting for his clothes to dry as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other.
"Chris, are you done?" Sue’s voice calls from outside the door.
"Almost done!" Chan shouts back, his voice strained. The air in the bathroom is warm and heavy, matching the tension he feels in his chest.
Before he can finish drying his boxers, Sue barges into the bathroom, still in her wet undergarments, her towel loosely wrapped around her. She doesn’t seem to care that he’s there.
"I can't wait any longer," she announces, her voice playful but firm as she strides confidently toward the shower stall, tossing her towel to the floor.
Chan swallows hard, eyes widening as she starts stripping out of her wet underwear. His gaze flickers to the mirror, catching glimpses of her body before he quickly tries to avert his eyes, heat rising to his face.
"I–I'm almost done..." Chan mumbles, his voice barely audible now as he turns the hair dryer off, but his words trail off because Sue isn’t listening. She’s busy shedding the last of her clothing, standing completely exposed now, her back to him.
His heart pounds, and though he desperately tries to look away, his eyes betray him, catching her figure in the reflection again. She moves toward the shower, but then she pauses, noticing his gaze through the mirror. A small smile curves her lips as she saunters back toward him, utterly confident.
"Chris," she says, her voice dropping to a low, sultry tone that sends a shiver down his spine. She steps closer, her bare body now in full view. "Want to shower together?"
Chan’s throat tightens, and he can’t seem to find the words. His mind is racing, caught between a surge of old feelings and the shocking reality of the moment. Sue stands there, teasingly exposed, as if waiting for him to make the next move.
Chan was a boy back then but now, he's just a man.
-
Is Chan still mad about Lee visiting you? Or did he go somewhere after the wedding and forget to tell you? Or... maybe he simply doesn't want to see you?
You’ve been turning these thoughts over in your mind ever since that night. You thought he’d come over after the wedding, share his usual stories about the day, about anything, really—like he always does. But the silence has been unsettling.
Coming home from work today, you half-expect to see him standing at his door, greeting you with that dimpled grin, his usual "Hi, neighbor." But all you see is his closed door.
You convince yourself that if Chan wants to see you, he’ll come around like usual, to poke fun at you or make you laugh. But it’s been too long now, and a knot of worry forms in your chest. What if he’s sick? What if something’s wrong?
After dropping off your bags and changing into comfortable clothes, you make up your mind and head over to his door. You knock, heart thudding with anticipation. A few moments later, you hear footsteps from inside.
When the door creaks open, there he is. He looks well—he looks good, as usual—but something feels off. There’s no dimpled grin, no sparkle in his eyes.
"Hey, can I come in?" you ask, hoping your voice doesn't betray the unease creeping in.
"Sure," he says, stepping aside to let you enter.
You walk in and sit on the sofa, waiting for him to join you. The silence feels heavier than usual, and he seems distant, avoiding your gaze.
"How are you?" you ask, breaking the quiet.
He lets out a long sigh before replying, "I’m good." He says but it doesn’t feel like the truth.
"That’s good to hear," you say, though you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.
You reach out to press your hand gently against his forehead. "You’re not sick, are you?"
He lets you touch him, and you tease, "Ooh... you’re still the hottest tenant in this building."
You hope the joke might lighten the mood, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s faint, distant. You don’t want to push him too hard, but this isn’t Chan. Not the Chan you know.
"Are you trying a new persona?" you tease again, nudging him lightly. "Because this brooding emo guy thing doesn’t suit you."
This time, he chuckles, and the sound makes your heart lift a little. He finally looks at you, and his hand reaches for yours, fingers loosely intertwining with yours in the space between you on the sofa.
"I’m sorry," he murmurs, the apology catching you off guard.
"What for?" you ask, scooting closer to him, sensing that he’s carrying something heavy. You want to comfort him, whatever it is.
He leans back against the sofa, exhaling deeply. You wait, giving him the space to gather his thoughts.
"I met someone at the wedding," he begins, his voice careful.
A flicker of unease ripples through you, but you don’t say anything. You stay calm, letting him explain.
"Oh no, don't say you ran away with the bride," you joke, but it's more to ease the tension you feel building inside you.
Chan doesn’t react. He keeps looking straight ahead, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.
"I met Sue," he starts, his voice struggling to push the words out. "She’s... someone I knew from the past."
You stay quiet, sensing that there’s more he needs to get out, but the pauses between his words are long and heavy.
"We met there, talked, had some drinks... and we ended up taking a quick dip in the hot tub."
"Sounds fun," you say, but your voice is flat, far from convincing.
He swallows hard, visibly uncomfortable. "We ended up in her hotel room... we were in the bathroom at the same time, and then... she asked if I wanted to shower with her."
Your heart sinks, but you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You stare down at your lap, your thoughts swirling, every unkind possibility flashing through your mind.
"I didn’t take her up on it," he quickly adds, "but... I hesitated. And in that moment, I realized I completely dismissed your feelings. I hate myself for it." His voice cracks with regret, and you can see the pain etched across his face.
"Maybe I haven’t changed at all," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "Maybe I’ll always be... this... ‘fuckboy Chris.’" He lets out a heavy sigh, tilting his head back as if trying to escape the weight of his own thoughts.
He turns to look at you, his eyes full of sadness. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not ready for this." His voice is small now, hesitant. "And I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue."
It’s a lot to take in. The silence fills the room, and you let yourself feel everything. The disappointment, the hurt, the empathy. You need time, just a few moments, to let it all sink in.
When you finally lift your head, you give him a soft, bittersweet smile. "Thank you for being honest with me," you begin, your voice steady but quiet. "And I know it wasn’t easy to say... but I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed."
His expression is heartbreaking. "I’m really sorry," he whispers.
"But Chris..." You take his hand, resting it on your lap, your fingers curling around his. "The fact that you acknowledged what you did was wrong, and that you took responsibility for it, shows me you're on the right path."
His eyes shift, the glints of warmth starting to return. "Don’t ever say you can’t change. You’re changing... I can see it, believe me."
Chan lets out a breath, his relief palpable. He pulls you closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "Goodness, what did I do to deserve you?"
You chuckle softly, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. "You don’t have to be perfect for me, Chris. You just need to be good for yourself."
He buries his head into the curve of your neck, his arms tight around you, holding on as if to remind himself this isn’t the end. Not yet.
"But, you know..." you tease, your voice light. "You could always quit now."
"Never!" he exclaims, pulling you even tighter into his embrace.
The two of you sit there, holding onto each other, your flaws laid bare. The silence between you feels different now—it's full of understanding, and something deeper starting to grow.
Chan tenderly cups your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and his eyes soften as they lock with yours.
"Thank you for not giving up on me," he whispers, his voice full of quiet gratitude.
You meet his gaze, the same emotions swirling within you. "Thank you for not giving up on me," you echo, because this journey hasn't been easy for either of you.
The moment between you is tender, delicate, and charged with something deeper—something that goes beyond words. You can feel it in the air, and in the way he looks at you. It feels right, like it needs to be sealed with something more, something real.
Your hands gently cradle his face, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. You swipe your thumb across his mouth, your touch lingering as you think about how much you missed the feel of him, the taste of him. Slowly, you lean in, closing the space between you, and press your lips to his.
The kiss feels unlike any you've shared before. It's soft, deliberate, and filled with all the unsaid emotions between you. His lips move against yours with such tenderness, and in that moment, everything melts away—the hesitation, the doubts, the fear. This kiss marks the start of something new, something deeper.
Chan kisses you gently, and it makes your heart tremble in your chest. Every brush of his lips against yours speaks of the emotions he's been holding back, the sadness and the sweetness of what you’ve both been through. It’s bittersweet and lovely, all at once.
This kiss signifies that you’re ready—both of you are ready to take this leap, to explore this new depth together.
When the kiss breaks, Chan can’t help but smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. He buries his head in your neck, inhaling your familiar scent that always calms him down. The feeling of your hand rubbing his back as you rest your head against him only solidifies how grateful he is that you're here, that he didn’t lose you.
He almost blew it, and yet here you are, forgiving him, giving him another chance. It's moments like this that make him certain—you’re the right person for him. Everything feels just... right.
You interrupt the peaceful silence with a playful tone, "It's your turn now."
"My turn for what?" Chan asks, momentarily confused as he lifts his head to look at you.
"Your turn to host the pajama party," you say, reminding him of the promise he’d made.
For a second, he’d forgotten all about that. "Huh?" he blurts out before realizing what you mean.
"I'll bring the snacks," you offer, and Chan nods, still smiling.
"Okay," he agrees without hesitation.
But you quickly add, "No weird movies, please?"
He can’t help himself from teasing you. "I know this French porn movie where the man—"
"Don’t make me cancel it," you cut him off, shooting him a stern look.
Chan laughs, "Okay, no French porn movies. Noted."
A mischievous idea crosses his mind as he playfully grins. "It's my party, though. I can do whatever I want, right?"
You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly seeing through his intentions, but to his surprise, you don’t outright protest. "Well... yes."
His grin widens as countless thoughts—most of them lewd and not remotely innocent—flood his mind. You’ve given him too much freedom now, and with that playful look in his eyes, Chan’s already thinking of ways to push your buttons.
-
The pajama party is officially on, and Chan has everything set to perfection. The bed faces the TV, freshly made with new sheets, and a scented candle flickers nearby, filling the room with a light, romantic scent. He carefully curated a movie list that’ll support the atmosphere he’s trying to create—a mix of feel-good films with enough romantic tension to get you in the mood.
As for himself, he keeps it simple yet calculated—gray sweatpants, worn low enough on his hips to give you a glimpse of his pelvic bones, knowing full well how much you like that.
He checks the room once more, muttering to himself, "What else? What else?"
After a while, he spots something."The lights!" he says, darting toward the switch.
Setting the lights to a soft, dim glow, it ensures the perfect balance—just enough to see but low enough to encourage a little closeness.
Just as everything’s ready, you arrive, right on time. He’s been buzzing with excitement, but he tamps it down, making sure to keep his face casual as he opens the door slowly.
"I'm on an all-protein diet, but I can't say no to this snack," he teases, his eyes shamelessly traveling down your body. There’s a flicker of disappointment when he sees you in an oversized sweater, hiding your figure.
You hand him the bag of snacks with a smirk, "I hope you like grapes!"
He places the bag on the table, watching as you stroll into the room, eyes observing the cozy setup he’s prepared.
"I see that you did a little renovation." You comment with eyes narrowed.
"And I see that you're not dressed according to the dress code," he quips, pointing at your large, cozy sweater with a mock frown.
"Is it necessary though?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, already anticipating his answer.
"Yes," he insists, determined.
You sigh in playful defeat, tugging at the hem of your sweater and lifting it over your head, revealing a short, black slip dress underneath. It's silky, tight, and leaves just enough to the imagination—but not too much.
As you bend slightly to place the sweater on the sofa, Chan catches a glimpse of the lacey black underwear peeking out beneath the dress. His eyes widen for a second, and his pulse quickens. Suddenly, he wonders if maybe insisting on the dress code was too good of an idea. That slip dress, especially with the way it clings to you, is dangerous.
Oh, this is going to be fun, he thinks, trying to steady his breathing as he watches you settle in, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him.
"Do you want me to prepare the snack or something?" you ask, snapping Chan out of his daze. He’s been standing there for what feels like a full minute, just staring at you.
He quickly averts his gaze, trying to shake off the image of your nipples lightly pressing through the silky fabric of your slip dress. It's too much of a distraction. "No, I'll do it. You can just..."
"I'll just get comfortable," you say with a teasing smile, turning away and heading toward the bed. His eyes can’t help but follow the way the hem of your slip rides up with each step, revealing more of your thighs than he's ready to handle.
He manages to gather his thoughts long enough to prepare the snacks. When he returns with the tray, he finds you nestled in the bed, already looking far too comfortable. A pillow is propped behind your back, your legs casually stacked and splayed across the bed, and the hem of your slip dress rides dangerously high, showing off even more skin.
You crawl over to the side of the bed, the neckline of your dress dipping low and giving him an accidental peek at your soft, unrestrained curves. You help him place the snacks on the bed, and his mind keeps wandering as he tries not to lose focus.
"So, what are we watching tonight?" you ask, clearly unaware of the war going on inside his head.
"I don't know," Chan blurts out without thinking, his mind still stuck on how your body moves so effortlessly in that dress.
Your brow furrows, and you pout in response to his non-answer.
"I mean, I've chosen a few, but I’ll let you make the final decision," he says, completely surrendering control of the night, which had not been part of his plan.
He places the tray of snacks in the empty space on the bed, and you pick up a chip, popping it into your mouth with a playful grin. He takes a seat next to you, keeping a safe distance—for now.
"Okay, now I’m curious about your choice of movies," you say as you crawl over him to reach for the remote.
The scent of your skin, the warmth of your body so close, it’s all so utterly distracting. His breath catches as you move over him, the proximity stirring something deeper inside.
"No porn," you say with a laugh, scrolling through his movie selections. "That’s a good start."
Chan grins, but the effect you have on him is overwhelming. He needs to cool down fast before his mind strays too far. Thinking quickly, he suggests an action movie, something that could help him focus on anything other than you.
You agree without hesitation and settle back against the pillows as the movie starts, the room dimly lit, and the night now filled with a tension that neither of you can completely ignore.
"So, the father no longer lives with his daughter?" you ask, eyes glued to the screen while Chan’s attention remains fixed on your body.
"Uh-huh, yeah," he mumbles, clearly distracted.
"I don't like the stepfather," you comment about the movie, unaware of how little Chan is actually paying attention.
You turn your head to him, catching him in the act of staring. You pretend not to notice, reaching casually for a grape from the bowl he's holding. But as you bring it to your mouth, it slips from your fingers, rolling down Chan’s bare stomach and stopping right at the waistband of his sweatpants.
Without hesitation, you innocently reach for the grape, your hand brushing dangerously close to where he’s most sensitive. The moment is fleeting, but it lingers for Chan. He feels the heat rise in his chest as your fingers pull the grape free and pop it into your mouth as if nothing happened.
For a second, he’s frozen, his breath catching as the proximity of your touch leaves him wanting more. His carefully crafted plans for tonight? They seem to be backfiring, with you unintentionally driving him wild.
-
Chan may think all your actions were innocent accidents, but little does he know every move was calculated. You've been noticing his wandering gaze, the way he keeps getting distracted by you rather than the movie. His bare torso, though distracting, only adds fuel to your own plans.
When the first movie ends, you decide it’s time to build a little anticipation. You scoot to the edge of the bed, casually announcing, "Bathroom break."
You linger in the bathroom longer than necessary, letting the tension grow. When you return, Chan has cleared the tray and is fluffing your pillow—a sight that makes you grin inwardly. He’s already under your control.
"Can we watch a romcom next?" you ask as you climb back onto the bed, this time settling even closer to him.
"Sure," Chan agrees without hesitation, confirming that you've got him wrapped around your finger.
The second movie begins, and a few minutes in, you fake a yawn, casually resting your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t move at first, but eventually, his arm slips around you, his hand gently rubbing your arm. You smile softly, knowing you’ve set the perfect stage.
You lower your voice and whisper, "She’s beautiful, don’t you think?" referring to the actress on screen.
"Yes, she is," Chan replies quickly, too quickly.
You chuckle, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "I thought you'd say something like, 'but you're more beautiful,'" you tease.
That comment finally breaks his concentration on the movie. He looks at you, eyes locking with yours. The tension between you simmers, everything falling into place.
"You are more beautiful," he says, catching you off guard with how sincere he sounds.
You gently hold his chin, making sure his gaze stays on you. "Yeah?"
"Yes," his voice is low, thick with desire.
"Thank you," you sweetly murmur, leaning in to plant a soft, lingering kiss at the corner of his mouth. It's a tease, just enough to leave him wanting more.
Chan is clearly struggling to hold on, but you're determined to push him further. You move swiftly, pulling one of his legs aside and slipping between them to sit.
The sheer panic in his voice when he asks, "What are you doing?" is impossible to miss.
“I want to sit here so we can cuddle,” you reply, playing the innocent card. You settle yourself against his chest, making sure to let out a low, sultry hum as you lean back into him.
He remains tense for a moment, but you feel him give in, his hands slowly trailing down your sides. His fingers gently squeeze your waist, and then his arm wraps around you, pulling you in close. His lips find your skin, starting with soft kisses on the top of your head, then trailing down the side of your face and to your bare shoulder. Each kiss becomes more ragged, more desperate, and you can feel the weight of his breath against your skin.
Finally, he turns your head, and the intensity in his eyes says it all—he’s done resisting. His lips crash into yours, the kiss raw, hungry, filled with more than just lust. It’s deep, hard, and leaves you breathless. You're barely keeping up as he kisses you with an urgency that feels like he’s been waiting for this forever.
“How can I walk away from this?” he asks, his voice heavy with emotion, his forehead resting against yours.
You smile, your lips barely grazing his as you reply, "You don’t, because it's your party, and you can do what you want."
That’s all it takes. Something inside him snaps. Chan gives in entirely, kissing you more feverishly, his hands roaming your body, touching you everywhere at once. You feel his fingers tug at the hem of your slip dress, and you lift your body slightly, allowing him to pull it off. The fabric falls away, leaving nothing between his hands and your skin.
“You’re so soft it's ridiculous,” he murmurs in awe, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
You watch as his hands trail down your arms, over your shoulders, down your sides, claiming every inch of you. He traces the lines of your body like he’s memorizing them, his breath hot against your neck as he leaves searing kisses along the way.
“Everywhere my hand slides, you fit me,” he whispers, showing you just how well with every touch—from your throat to your breasts, your hips, and down. His mouth follows his hands, kissing, tasting, marking you.
You let out a quiet whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. “Please let me touch you too,” you manage to whisper.
Chan doesn’t hesitate. He flips you over so that you’re straddling him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your every move. You waste no time, leaning in to kiss his neck, trailing your hands down his broad shoulders. Your fingers explore the firm muscles of his chest, and your lips follow, savoring the feel of his skin against yours.
You pause, admiring his sculpted abs, running your hands over them. "How do you even look like this?" you ask, awestruck.
Chan grins shyly, clearly not used to the compliments. “I don’t have anything better to do than go to the gym.”
“You do now,” you tease, tugging at him playfully.
Before he can react, you pull him down with you, both of you collapsing onto the bed together, laughing as the tension between you grows thicker.
In the dim light of the TV, Chan’s body hovers over yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he props himself on one elbow. You can feel the tension in the air, the weight of everything unsaid building between you. His eyes are locked onto yours, and you respond by slipping your hand down into his sweatpants, wrapping your fingers around him.
The way he groans, half-broken, sends a shiver down your spine. His hardness pulses under your touch, and each breath he takes sounds more ragged than the last. It’s intoxicating, knowing how undone he is because of you. Every stroke of your hand, every gentle squeeze makes him unravel a little more, and for a fleeting moment, you realize just how much power you have over him.
But before you can dwell on it, you feel his mouth. It takes you a second to pinpoint where, but then you feel it—hot and hungry, kissing your abdomen. His lips trail down, kissing along the curve of your stomach, his breath hot against your skin. The tension coils tighter inside you with each kiss.
With a playful grin, Chan grips the elastic band of your underwear between his teeth. The memory of last time flashes in your mind, and you can’t help but laugh at the familiar sight.
"Someone better not interrupt me again," he mutters between clenched teeth, determination and amusement laced in his voice as he tugs at the fabric.
The laughter bubbles out of you, half from the tickling sensation of his chin grazing your skin, half from the irony. But soon enough, the underwear slips away, and your laughter turns into a breathy sigh.
Chan wastes no time, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. You can barely catch the words he murmurs between kisses, your focus completely stolen by the feel of his lips and tongue, his warm breath ghosting over your skin.
It’s too much, and not enough all at once.
Your legs part instinctively, and you know exactly what’s coming next. Anticipation swirls inside you, tightening in your core as Chan’s mouth ventures dangerously close to where you need him most.
The first contact of Chan’s mouth on your wetness is deliberate—a slow, teasing swirl that feels like the soft lick you’d give to the top of a melting ice cream cone. The sudden sensation draws a sharp gasp from your lips, and you almost snort from the intensity of it. He rewards you with a soft kiss on your inner thigh, as if pleased with himself.
The second contact is a gentle kiss, a reminder of the first kiss you shared. It’s pure, almost chaste, without any tongue, yet it holds a promise of what’s to come. As you stare up at the dark ceiling, a single thought pulses through your mind—you deeply wish that his kisses were meant for no one else but you.
Then comes the third, another kiss that slowly progressing from pure and innocent to something much dirtier. His lips linger and press deeper, his tongue tracing lines that send electric shocks through your entire body.
Chan takes his time, savoring every second, and with each passing minute, your body alternates between moments of tension and relaxation, yielding completely to him.
All of a sudden, he lifts his head, groaning in frustration. "I can’t handle it..." His voice is rough, desperate. He rests the side of his head on your thigh, his fingers lightly circling your clit as he breathes out, "I need more. Please."
His words are strained, raw with need. He’s hanging on by a thread, teetering on the edge, and you know that if you don’t give him what he wants soon, he might just break. You slide your hand through his curls, tugging lightly to bring his gaze back to yours.
“More?” you ask, voice low, teasing, though his desperation makes your heart race.
"Way, way more," he whispers, the hunger in his voice unmistakable.
You smile softly, the pet name slipping out so naturally it surprises you. "Okay, baby."
At that, Chan hurriedly kneels, shedding his sweatpants in a rush, and when his erection springs free, it’s impossible not to stare. The sheer size of him, the desire etched across his face, it’s all aimed at you, and the heat between you intensifies.
He positions himself above you, taking your hands and tangling them with his own, pinning them above your head. "Finally..." he breathes, his voice thick with excitement and relief, almost bordering on ecstasy.
Despite the waiting, the teasing, you realize you were just as desperate as he was for this moment, "Finally..." you repeat.
As he pushes his hard length into you, he does it slowly, savoring every inch as your body adjusts to him. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can hear every sound that escapes his lips—soft gasps, sighs of pleasure, as if he’s trying to survive this moment and let it consume him all at once.
Fully sheathed inside you, he flexes his hips, and your eyes flutter shut. The sensation of him filling you, hot and hard, is overwhelming. It’s perfect.
"God, I was so right," he groans, his voice filled with awe. "You fit me perfectly"
Chan kneels again, his muscles contracting, his skin flushed red from the intensity. The view of him above you—his sculpted chest and arms—is breathtaking. He starts moving, each thrust measured, controlled. You can feel the pressure building inside you, and something similar to panic grips your chest, a raw intensity that threatens to overwhelm you.
“Talk to me,” Chan murmurs, leaning down to place a quick kiss on your lips.
You smile weakly, your eyes half-closed as you try to keep yourself together. "This is... this is nice," you mumble, barely coherent as your mind reels from the pleasure.
He looks almost offended, his brow furrowing as if the word "nice" is beneath him. "Nice, huh?" he repeats, voice low and teasing.
Before you can respond, his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you just enough to create a new angle. The depth he reaches now makes your breath hitch, and any attempt at keeping a coherent thought vanishes as he thrusts harder.
"Nice is good..." you start to say, but the words are swallowed by a moan as his pace increases, hitting just the right spot with every thrust. Your eyes roll back, and he grins at the reaction he pulls from you.
“I don’t do... nice,” Chan says with a smirk, leaning down as his movements grow faster, deeper, shaking the bed with every thrust.
You let out a sob, the sensation too much, and your body tightens around him, trembling as the knot in your stomach pulls tighter and tighter. It’s a battle to hold on, but there’s no escaping what’s coming.
Chan hovers lower, his face close to yours as he studies every expression, his hips moving with precision. "Is it still nice?" he growls, his voice hoarse.
You can’t answer, not with the way he’s pushing you right to the edge. Your breath hitches, and just as you open your mouth to say something, a desperate cry escapes as your body finally gives in, releasing all the tension in a wave of pure ecstasy. You cling to the sheets, legs shaking, your voice echoing in the room as Chan continues to drive into you.
Moments later, you feel Chan reach his own peak, his body shuddering against yours as he releases with a deep, guttural groan, collapsing onto you, exhausted and trembling from the intensity of it all.
Once he's come to his senses, he lets out a shy laugh, his cheeks flushed. He’s so different from the brash, confident man you expected him to be—soft and vulnerable in ways you didn’t anticipate. You gently stroke his cheek, feeling a surge of affection for this man you’re getting to know in a completely new way.
"We’re going to miss the end of the movie," you tease, glancing at the TV still flickering in the background.
Chan laughs, his voice rich and warm. "I think we finished just in time."
-
Every time Chan wakes up in the morning, he no longer wonders where he is. He’s right where he belongs, lying next to you.
On weekdays, you live your separate lives, each sleeping in your own beds. But on weekends, you’re his, and he makes the most of it. It’s not just about sex—though there’s plenty of that. Your nights are filled with movies, video games, long dinners, and endless cuddling that eventually leads to even more sex.
Once, he warned you that it would take him days, weeks, maybe even years to get enough of you.
As expected, your alarm rings just as Chan is about to pull you closer, his arms instinctively reaching for you. With a quick motion, he grabs your phone, turns off the alarm, and shoves it under his pillow, refusing to let you go.
“Work,” you murmur, still half-asleep, rubbing your eyes as you reach for your phone.
“You know what time it is,” he teases, pulling you on top of him with ease.
Chan brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears so he can plant soft kisses all over your face. When his lips finally reach yours, his hand glides down your spine, resting on your rear before slipping his fingers under your underwear, teasing you through the fabric.
"Chris..." you mewl, your voice a mix of protest and desire.
“It’s either we do it here or in the shower,” he says, voice thick with need. He doesn’t care about the setting—he just knows he needs you to start his day right.
“As long as you’re doing all the work,” you reply, half teasing, half serious.
His eyes widen in disbelief. "Since when do you ever—"
You cut him off with a kiss, your lips pressing firmly against his. "Are we doing this or not?"
No matter how much you protest, Chan always gets what he wants. And he knows you secretly love catering to his desires, just as much as he loves pleasing you.
Your lips move together again as he pulls his cock out of his boxers, positioning himself. You lean forward, lowering yourself onto him slowly, feeling him fill you inch by inch. His hands rest on your hips as you stay on all fours, your back arching beautifully while he thrusts into you from below.
You glance down, watching his cock move in and out of you, and let out a playful giggle. “How do you have so much energy in the morning?” you ask, a little amazed.
He grins up at you, his hips never stopping their rhythm. Honestly, just looking at you is all he needs to feel alive in the morning. Your moans, your smile, the way you move—it all drives him wild.
“That feels so good, baby,” you purr, leaning down to kiss him deeply.
Chan’s mind wanders for a brief second, wondering how he got so lucky. There was a time when he feared you might think this was only physical, that he mistook lust for something deeper. But now, he knows it’s not just his body that craves you—his heart does too.
“What are you thinking, mmh?” you ask, your nose brushing against his.
"Nothing," he murmurs, looking at you with the softest expression. "I’m just so happy."
You smile at him, pressing another kiss to his lips, and he holds you close, your bodies fitting perfectly together as he continues to move, his hips rocking into yours until both of you are lost in the sensation.
When you finally reach your peak, he follows, planting his seed deep inside you to complete what’s now become his favorite morning ritual.
As you get dressed, Chan stays in bed, a satisfied grin plastered across his face. He watches you with lazy, contented eyes, still basking in the afterglow.
"I’ll cook dinner tonight," he says, hands propped behind his head, already thinking of the next time he’ll see you.
"Okay," you reply casually, slipping your sweater over your head.
"It would be easier if you gave me your spare keys," he says, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the underlying hope in his voice. "So I can cook at your place."
You pause for a moment, a coy smile creeping across your face. "You want the spare keys to my place?"
"Yes," he replies eagerly, sitting up a little straighter, hope flaring in his chest.
"Well..." You walk toward the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder. "You’ll have to earn it first."
As you leave his apartment and head across the hallway to your own, Chan lies back on the bed, his grin widening. It seems he has a new quest: earning the spare keys to your place.
And knowing Chan, he’ll do whatever it takes to get them.
-
Chan knows your morning routine by heart. He lingers in bed for a moment after you leave, his mind wandering back to the last time you were together. Whether it was this morning or the night before, the memories of your body against his make him smile lazily.
Eventually, he gets up, washes up, and grabs a quick breakfast before heading out of the apartment to send you off to work.
As he steps out of his door, he sees a sight that surprises him: you're helping someone unload boxes from the elevator. Without thinking, he rushes over to help, noticing that there are still several boxes left inside.
“You should be on your way to work,” Chan says, more concerned about your punctuality than anything else.
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t get into the stuffed elevator,” you reply with a shrug, clearly unbothered by the time.
Just then, someone else steps out of the elevator, carrying the last box. “You can use it now,” he says, smiling.
You turn to Chan and introduce him, “This is Minho. He’s our new neighbor.”
Then you turn to Minho and gesture to Chan, “And this is Chris, the other neighbor.”
Chan feels a pang of disappointment. Just the "other neighbor"? He swallows it down, deciding to let it go for now.
Minho puts the box down and extends his hand to Chan. “Minho,” he says with a friendly grin.
“Chris,” Chan replies, shaking his hand. As their hands clasp, Chan gets a quick read on him. He knows the type—game recognizes game—but for now, he decides to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“I’d better get going,” you say as Minho holds the elevator door open for you.
“Yes, please, I’d be devastated if you were late to work,” Minho says with a smile that seems just a little too smooth.
You laugh softly, waving it off. “It’s fine. No worries.”
That laugh—the ease of your interaction—it’s all too friendly for someone you’ve just met. It takes Chan back a little, knowing how long it took for you to warm up to him. Still, he lets it slide again.
As you move to leave, Chan pulls you close, intending to kiss you goodbye, but at the last second, you turn your head, and the kiss lands awkwardly on your jaw.
“Bye,” you say softly before stepping into the elevator.
“Have a great day at work, neighbor!” Chan calls after you, trying to play it off with a wave as the doors close.
Left standing in the hallway with Minho, Chan notices the pile of boxes still waiting to be moved into the new neighbor’s apartment. He offers to help, not feeling right about leaving the guy to handle it all alone.
After placing the last box inside, Minho hands Chan a can of soda as thanks. They sit for a moment, taking a breather from the unexpected workout.
“I must say,” Minho says suddenly, cracking open his can, “that was hard to watch.”
Chan’s brows knit together in confusion. “Sorry?”
“You and that pretty neighbor of yours,” Minho continues, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
Chan straightens up, his grip tightening on the can. “What are you trying to say?”
Minho lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I can see you like her, but her… I don’t think she likes you back.”
Chan feels the jab, but he doesn’t let it show. He knew there was something off about Minho from the start.
“She introduced you as her mere neighbor,” Minho adds, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “And that kiss dodge? Ouch.”
Chan tries not to take the bait, but it’s impossible not to feel a little stung by the comment. Pissed, actually.
“How long have you been chasing after that cute neighbor?” Minho presses, his chuckle laced with condescension. He doesn’t even give Chan a chance to defend himself.
“Hey, you can mess with me all you want, but not with her,” Chan warns, his voice low, a dark edge creeping in.
Minho only snorts, crushing the empty soda can in his hand before tossing it casually into the trash. “And here I thought you were just like me.”
Chan tenses as Minho steps closer, eyes narrowing with a fierce smile. “I could have that girl in a week,” he declares boldly.
Chan’s jaw clenches. “I told you not to mess with her.”
Minho shrugs, completely unfazed. “Just watch me.”
And with that, it’s clear: there’s a new fuckboy in the area, and Chan’s got more than a little competition.
-
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Oh shiiittttttttttttt
Late - Bang Chan Hard Thought
WC - 472
✧ Masterlist ✧
“Baby, baby.” Chris bites his tongues in a futile attempt to suppress another moan. “We’re gonna be late. Shit, we’re already late.”
You only spare him a doe eyed glance up from where you’re kneeling between his legs. Your lips are stretched around him, lipstick smeared over the lines and your hair frizzy from where his hands have found purchase to keep himself grounded. “You already - fuck, you already made me cum.”
His sentences are broken into breathy fragments as you bob your head over him. His head is thrown back with another skilled swirl of your tongue while his fingers dig into the blanket you gifted him today. You pull off of him with a lewd pop, taking his throbbing length in your hand.
“Are you complaining about getting head? On your birthday?” You spit down onto the head of his cock, spreading the slick with your palm to mix with his dribbling precum. “I thought you’d like it.” You fake a pout and he groans, bucking his hips into your hand.
“I’m not, I'm not.” His knuckles are white in the soft fabric, his feet are sore from pressing into the soles of his shoes and his cock is sensitive. So much so that the faintest tickle of your exhale has him whining above you. “We have dinner, the guys are waiting.”
You nod, sticking your tongue out to tease his tip. He watches, stuttering a bit at the start of his sentence. “We have to go.” Chris sucks in an inhale so sharp it could’ve cut him when you welcome his sex back into the warmth of your mouth.
He groans, ending it in a breathless whine as you sink him back into the warm wet space inch by perfect inch. You take all of him, sinking down until he hits the back of your throat and you choke around his pulsing tip. “Fucking hell.” His hands are in your hair again, fisting the curly tresses to keep you down to the hilt.
“Look at me.” His request is choked out but coherent and you follow it immediately. Your teary eyes find his and he nearly loses his bearings. “You’re so pretty with a mouth full of my cock.”
He speaks as though he’s admiring a reminiscent memory. Like he’s imagining every other time he’s ever had you like this, on your knees in a pretty dress in your disheveled bedroom. “We’re already late.” He pulls you up ever so slightly by your hair only to guide you back down at the same pace. A small sigh floats past his parted lips as he watches with furrowed brows. A single tear escapes your lash line and he wipes it away with his thumb while admiring the pretty glisten of your auburn eyes.
“Might as well make me cum again.”
I haven't been able to write ANY birthday posts since Binnie's birthday week but I couldn't let Chan's day go by without trying to do SOMETHING. - Happy Birthday to my first bias and best leader <3
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@krayzieestay, @soulsbbg , @stay-bi , @yzsqu , @gho-ster , @lghtdarling
