just a short drabble about hyunjin's kink to mark your whole body and use you as a living canvas
mdni!
warnings: f! reader, sexual content, biting, marking, fingering, mentions of jerking off
wc: 597
listen, hyunjin has a thing for marking you, leaving hickeys and bite marks all over your pretty skin.
he likes using you as his personal canvas, making you his one true masterpiece.
he invited you over to the dance studio one night, wanting to "show you his new solo choreography". he's already jerked off the thought of you once that day. but it wasn't enough. he needed to see you, to touch you, to fucking smell you.
and you came over, no questions asked, at one in the morning, looking all sleepy and adorable. fuck, he's so obsessed with you. he closed the door of the practice room behind you, hands grabbing your shirt desperately. "let me see." he murmurs, voice low, eyes glued to your body.
you knew he was referring to the marks he's left on you last time. they were already fading, only a light shade of yellow. you lift your shirt over your head, his eyes scanning your chest, stomach, shoulders. "they're almost gone..." he whispered, his fingers tracing the outlines of the bite marks on your shoulders. "i need to fix that." he murmured, eyes meeting yours hungrily. "hyunjinâ" you moaned his name so very softly, it shattered him completely. his hands gripped your hair, pulling your face towards him harshly, his lips crashing into yours. he walked you backwards until your back hits the mirror, tongue pushing into your mouth, claiming.
you kissed him back, his hands roaming over your bare skin, groaning into your mouth. "paint me again, hyunjin. pleaseâ" that one little beg undid him completely. his cock was rock hard in his sweatpants, pressing against you. he fucking wants to paint you again. purple, pink, red. marks trailing over your tits, hips, thighs, neck. this wasn't about fucking. this was about creating his masterpiece.
he buried his face in your neck, teeth sinking into your pulse point immediately, making you moan out. his hands moved to your back, unclasping your bra, revealing the fading love bites on your tits. his teeth and lips trailed over your collarbones, down to your chest, biting the soft flesh, making you gasp in surprise. he only bit harder, marking you immediately, his fingers pinching your nipples roughly as he sucked hard, leaving purple marks on your skin.
and you couldn't help yourself but beg him for his fingers. inside you. while he paints your body. his eyes darkened immediately, pupils swallowing his brown eyes. the way you looked at him so desperately, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, voice thin with need. and you fucking begged. so beautifully.
"keep looking at me like that." he groaned, already fumbling with your pants. he ripped it off, helping you step out of it, hand immediately covering your soaked cunt. he slapped it once, harsh, making you jolt.
he kissed your shoulders, fingers sliding through your wet folds. he bit down hard when he slipped one digit inside, groaning against your skin at how smoothly his finger slid through your wetness. he added another finger, curling them, finding your g-spot, making you cry out.
he grabbed you, spun you around, your hands bracing against the mirror, his fingers still fucking you mercilessly. the other hand wrapped around your throat, pulling your head back. he wanted you to see the masterpiece he's already created on your body. the hickeys, the bite marks, the reddened skin from his rough treatment.
"look at yourself," he growled against your ear. "look at how fucking pretty i'm making you." his thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing roughly.
in which your friend felix introduces you to his friend group. you immediately know you're not going to get along with their leader. he's arrogant, controlling and becoming your number one enemy. but neither of you can deny the deep-rooted desire for each other.
mdni!
warnings: heavy sexual themes, enemies, fem reader, jerking off, mentions of porn, name calling (bitch/whore/slut), a little sprinkle of degradation, deep throating (choking on his cock), use of toys (vibrator), oral, fingering, marks (hickeys/bites), bondage, safe words, spanking, unprotected sex, breeding (let me know if i forgot anything), mentions of food
wc: 9.6k
based on this drabble
felix should have warned you before introducing you to his group. instead, he had only grinned the entire drive over, one hand lazily drumming against the steering wheel while saying things like âjust donât let chan scare you off.â as if that could have prepared you for what would happen.
but you understood the second you walked in. the room shifted around him. conversations paused when he spoke. people looked at him before making decisions. even sitting back against the couch with one arm slung over the backrest, chan carried himself like he owned the place and everyone inside it.
and apparently, everyone let him.
your first impression of him settled quickly: arrogant. controlling. the kind of man who expected obedience simply because he existed.
his first impression of you formed just as fast. too observant.
he noticed the way your eyes tracked everything, the way you watched interactions instead of trying to force yourself into them. most people met him and got nervous. eager to please. careful with their words.
you didnât. worse, you looked at him like something didn't sit right.
felix introduced you with an easy grin, entirely unaware of the tension that sparked the moment chanâs gaze landed on you.
chan leaned back slightly, eyes dragging over you once before he gave a curt nod. âheard a lot about you.â you smiled politely but your tone sounded anything but. âditto.â
a few people in the room choked on their drinks. felix looked between the two of you like heâd just realised he accidentally lit a match near gasoline.
chan's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. and that was the beginning of it.
after that, it became a pattern, predictable in the most irritating way possible. every time you showed up, chan noticed immediately.
it didnât matter if he was mid-conversation, or across the room pretending not to pay attention, the second you walked in, his focus shifted. like some invisible thread pulled tight between you.
you noticed it too. the way his eyes found you first. always. and somehow, every single interaction between the two of you turned into a fight.
âweâre ordering from rossiâs,â chan announced one night from the kitchen, barely glancing up from his phone. ârossiâs is awful,â you said immediately.
a silence fell over the room. han muttered, âoh, here we go.â chan looked up slowly. âawful?â
âtheir pasta tastes microwaved.â
âitâs italian. one of the only italian places around here."
âthat doesnât automatically make it good.â
he stared at you for a second too long before scoffing softly. âyou always this difficult?â
you leaned against the counter. âyou always this bossy?â
his mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile.
that shouldâve warned you. because after that, he started seeking you out. deliberately.
if you sat somewhere, suddenly chan needed that exact spot. if you disagreed with something, heâd argue just to keep you talking longer. if someone else interrupted your banter, he looked annoyed by it.
and the worst part? you kept engaging. every single time.
âmove,â he told you one evening when you stole his usual seat on the couch. you looked up from your drink. âthere are six other places to sit.â
âthatâs my spot.â
you scoffed, âsounds made up.â the room went quiet again. felix was already grinning into his drink.
chan stepped closer, towering over the couch while you refused to move even an inch. âyou enjoy testing me.â
âyou enjoy acting like a fucking dictator.â
âsomeone has to keep order around here.â
you snorted. âorder? how dramatic."
his eyes narrowed. yours sparkled with amusement.
and there it was again, that awful little pull between irritation and entertainment that neither of you seemed capable of escaping.
because no matter how much chan acted annoyed by you, he kept looking for reasons to provoke you. heâd throw comments your way from across the room just to watch you snap back.
he learned exactly what got reactions out of you. the fastest way to make you glare. the quickest way to make you roll your eyes. the comments that made your lips twitch because you were trying not to laugh.
and god, he loved when you laughed. especially if it was usually at his expense.
âyou know,â you said one night after he interrupted somebody for the fifth time, ânormal people let others finish speaking.â
ânormal people have useful things to say.â
you groaned in annoyance, âsee? this is exactly why i canât stand you.â
âfunny." he drawled, eyes fixed on you over the rim of his drink, âwhy do you keep talking to me then?"
your stomach flipped annoyingly hard at that. because he was right. you looked away before anyone noticed the heat crawling into your face.
but later that night, while everyone else talked around him, you caught chan watching you from the other side of the room, completely focused, making it feel far more dangerous than the arguing ever had.
chan realised something was wrong the first time you followed him without actually being there.
he was at the studio, headphones hanging around his neck while he stared blankly at the unfinished track glowing on the monitor in front of him. one hand tapped impatiently against the desk. the bass loop repeated. and repeated. and repeated.
all because his brain kept replaying something stupid youâd said three nights ago. âyou always act like youâre in charge even when nobody asked you to be.â
he could still hear the smugness in your voice. could still picture the look on your face when youâd said it.
âfor fuckâs sake,â he muttered under his breath, dragging both hands over his face. it was ridiculous. you were ridiculous. annoying. argumentative. impossible.
so why the hell was he thinking about you while trying to work? even worse, why did the thought of you make his chest tighten strangely?
he shoved the feeling away immediately. hatred. obviously. that had to be what this was.
except hatred usually didnât make his pulse jump every time his phone lit up with a message in the group chat, secretly hoping it was you.
hatred shouldn't make his cock hard. and it definitely shouldn't make his thoughts slip to you when he was jerking off.
hatred shouldnât have made him notice your absence the second he walked into felixâs apartment friday night.
he asked about you before he could stop himself. felix looked up so fast it was almost suspicious. âdamn,â he said slowly. âyou didnât even say hi first.â
chan frowned immediately. âi was just asking.â felix smirked at that, âsure you were.â
he ignored the grin spreading across felixâs face and scanned the room again anyway. you werenât there. and suddenly, the night felt off. quieter, less entertaining. he hated that most of all.
and once he noticed it, he couldnât stop noticing it. every room he entered, his eyes searched for you automatically. every conversation felt slightly duller when you werenât interrupting him halfway through it. every joke landed flatter when it wasnât making you roll your eyes.
it got worse after that. at the gym, he caught himself thinking about the way you looked at him whenever you argued, so... unimpressed. like you enjoyed challenging him just as much as he enjoyed provoking you.
this was the first time he felt the pressing need to jerk off. to the thought of you.
he rushed home from the gym, cock already half-hard in his pants. had been for the past hour. even an ice-cold shower did nothing.
he dropped his gym back to the floor, making his way to his room immediately, dropping onto his bed. he ran his hands over his face, grabbing his hair.
"fuck you." he said into the empty room before grabbing his hard on through his shorts, squeezing it.
he didn't want to do it, jerking off to you. his pride, his ego, screamed at him to stop. to not do this with you on his mind. he grabbed his phone, unlocking it with one hand while his other slipped into his pants.
porn should do it. watching any other chick, hearing her moans instead of your fucking laugh in his mind. porn used to be his remedy when his mind wouldn't shut up about you. but right now it did nothing. he only saw you. only heard you.
he groaned in frustration, closing the tab on his phone, forcing his hand to stop working his cock. it twitched desperately in his fist, demanding more.
he wanted to text you. to tell you to stop invading his thoughts. tell you how much he hated you. for being so fucking mouthy. for making it impossible for him to jerk off properly. to demand you to do something about it. but he knew you'd only mock him for it.
his thumb moved on its own as it opened his photo gallery. he didn't notice what he was searching for until he found pictures of the last time you hung out with the group.
he loved the shirt you were wearing back then. loved how it made your tits look. fuck. suddenly he was thinking about your tits, wondering what they'd feel like in his hands. he imagined you arching your back, leaning into the touch as he grabbed them, squeezed them, pinched your nipples until you were whimpering.
his hand started moving on his cock again without him realising. his mind was too far gone. he thought about swirling his tongue around your nipples, sucking on them, wondering what your moans would sound like.
but he didn't only want to suck your nipples. he wanted to suck the soft flesh surrounding them. sucking, biting until it left a mark. right on your precious tit. he'd cover you in them, leaving marks all over you. fuck, you'd look so beautiful when he was done with you.
he noticed his fist jerking his cock only when he groaned involuntarily, his eyes fixated on the screen, on the picture of you. he wanted you. needed you. so bad it made his balls tighten.
he felt his orgasm approaching. fuck no, he couldn't cum to the thought of you. no matter how many times he thought of you while jerking off, he always managed to distract himself enough, think of anything but you when he found his release.
but right now he couldn't stop. couldn't stop imagining leaving his marks on you. he wanted to spank you until your butt cheeks were all red and covered in his handprints. finally making you realise who was in fucking charge.
the thought of you surrendering to him, to having his way with you, finally made him come undone. he gave his cock a few more strokes, tearing his gaze away from his phone, head thrown back against the pillow. and he blew his fucking load to the thought of you, whispering your name into the dark room.
after that, chan started gravitating towards you unconsciously. if you were in the kitchen, suddenly he needed a drink. if you were outside, he somehow ended up outside too. if you sat on the couch, heâd lean against the wall closest to you without even realising it. and then there was the hugging thing.
god, he hated the hugging thing. you hugged everyone. felix. the other members. friends arriving. friends leaving. everyone except him.
the first time he noticed it, irritation flared so fast it startled him. the second time, it became impossible not to watch.
youâd grin at somebody, arms wrapping around them casually while chan stood nearby pretending not to care. pretending not to notice. pretending he didnât immediately wonder what it would feel like if you touched him like that. if your tits pressed against him. your scent surrounding him.
it got even worse when someone else made you laugh. especially men.
one night, seungmin had you nearly doubled over at the kitchen counter, laughing so hard you grabbed his arm for balance.
chan felt something ugly twist in his chest. before he even realised what he was doing, he crossed the room. âwhatâs so funny?â he asked flatly.
your laughter faded slightly as you looked up at him.ânothing youâd enjoy.â
âtry me.â
"you donât have a sense of humor.â
seungmin laughed awkwardly before quickly excusing himself the second chan looked at him.
coward.
you narrowed your eyes immediately. âdid you just scare him off?â
âif he got scared that easily, thatâs his problem.â
âyouâre unbelievable.â
âthen stop talking to me.â he said quietly, stepping closer.
the words settled heavily between you. your expression flickered for half a second. and christ, that was another problem entirely.
because lately, every time you looked at him, he forgot for a moment that this was supposed to be hatred at all.
a few days later, a heavy summer storm hit the city. and it had gotten bad fast.
rain hammered against the streets hard enough to blur the city lights, thunder rumbling low and heavy overhead while you hurried towards the studio building with your jacket pulled uselessly over your head. you and felix had made plans to go out for dinner after the studio tonight.
by the time security let you upstairs after recognising you as âone of felixâs people,â you were completely soaked. your shoes squeaked against the floor as you pushed open the studio door with an exhausted sigh already forming, only for it to die immediately when you saw who was inside.
chan sat alone in the swivel chair in front of the mixing desk, one arm resting against the armrest while music played quietly through the speakers.
of course. you sighed dramatically. âyouâve got to be kidding me.â
he glanced over his shoulder lazily. ânice to see you too.â
âwhereâs felix?â
ânot here, obviously.â
you rolled your eyes, already pulling your phone out.âhelpful as always.â
âi try.â but when chan turned fully in the chair, whatever sarcastic response heâd been about to make stopped short.
his eyes dragged over you slowly. rainwater clung to your clothes, your shirt damp enough to stick to your skin, droplets still sliding down your neck and disappearing beneath the fabric. his dick twitched. for once, chan looked genuinely speechless.
your stomach flipped annoyingly at the expression on his face. âtake a picture,â you muttered.
his jaw tightened immediately, like heâd just been caught doing something illegal. before he could answer, your phone buzzed.
felix: ÂŤ stormâs too bad. roads are fucked. canât make it tonight sorry đÂť
you stared at the message in disbelief. âyouâre joking.â
âwhat?â
âfelix bailed.â
chan snorted softly. âsmartest thing heâs done all week.â
and then the power cut out. the room dropped into darkness instantly. you jumped hard enough to knock your knee against the couch beside you. âshitââ
a laugh echoed through the dark. âyou scared of a little darkness?â
âabsolutely not.â
âyou literally jumped just now.â
a flashlight flicked on a second later, illuminating the room dimly from below as chan leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too entertained by your suffering. the lighting made him look unfairly attractive. which only irritated you further.
âwhat, no candles around?â you asked dryly. âcould make this whole thing a little cosier.â
his brows lifted. âthis is a fucking studio.â
âand?â
ânot exactly a place that calls for romance.â
you snorted. âpity. you probably bang a lot of chicks here considering youâre basically married to the studio. couldâve at least provided them with ambiance.â
chan barked out a laugh at that. an actual laugh. "trust me,â he said, eyes glinting in the flashlight glow, âi donât need romance for that.â
âoh, iâm sure your personality alone does all the heavy lifting.â
âyou saying iâm charming?â
âiâm saying youâre bossy. probably sucking up to people if you want something.â
he shook his head slowly, still staring at you in that intense way that always made your heartbeat feel uneven.
outside, thunder cracked loudly enough to rattle the windows. you crossed your arms instinctively, suppressing a shiver.
unfortunately, chan noticed immediately. his eyes narrowed slightly as another tremor ran through you. âyouâre freezing.â
âiâm fine.â
âyouâre shaking.â
âwow,â you deadpanned, âyour observational skills are incredible.â
he rolled his eyes before reaching behind him blindly, grabbing a black sweater from the couch and tossing it towards you.
it hit your chest. you looked down at it suspiciously. then back at him. ââŚyou own sweaters? wow. didn't expect that with you always running around in your stupid tank tops." you loved the stupid tank tops.
âhilarious.â
you held the sweater between two fingers. âthis thing probably reeks of ego.â
âput the fucking hoodie on.â
you snorted softly, still not moving. âi think iâd rather suffer.â
âchrist,â he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. âstop being so fucking stubborn.â
âmake me.â the words slipped out too naturally. too easily. and the second they did, the room changed.
chan went still. the flashlight from his phone cast shadows across his face as his eyes locked onto yours with dangerous intensity.
your pulse skipped. his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before lifting again. slowly. oh, he knew exactly how to make you less stubborn.
âcareful,â he said quietly. your breath caught despite yourself.
but instead of backing down, you tilted your head slightly. âor what?â
his eyes darkened slightly at that. the storm outside seemed louder suddenly, rain hammering against the windows while the studio sat in near darkness around you.
chan leaned back slowly in the chair, one hand still holding his phone loosely against his thigh. âyou really donât know when to stop talking.â
you clutched the sweater against your chest. âyou say that like you arenât the one constantly starting arguments with me.â
âbecause you make it easy.â
âor maybe youâre obsessed with hearing yourself speak.â
he laughed quietly under his breath. âsee?â he murmured. âthere it is.â
âwhat?â
âthat mouth.â
heat crept annoyingly up your neck. you tried to ignore it. âyou mean the one that hurts your feelings every other day?â you said sweetly.
âplease.â his gaze dragged over you again, slow enough to make your stomach tighten. âif anything, i think you enjoy getting my attention.â
you scoffed immediately. âyouâre unbelievable.â
âyou came here soaked out of your mind during a storm.â
âto see felix.â
âsure.â
âgod, your ego is exhausting.â
âand yet you ended up alone with me.â
the words landed heavier than they should have. you hated that your heartbeat reacted instantly. and chan noticed, your flushed face making him way more aroused than it should.
his eyes narrowed slightly, like he was studying every tiny shift in your expression.
âyou know what your problem is?â you said, mostly to regain control of the conversation.
âenlighten me.â
âyou think everybody wants you.â
one corner of his mouth pulled upward. âyou saying you donât?â
your breath caught for half a second. just enough. his expression changed immediately the moment he noticed. to satisfaction? or interest? something far more dangerous underneath both.
âwow,â he said softly. âthat almost sounded convincing.â you glared at him. âyouâre insufferable.â
âand youâre nervous.â
âiâm cold.â
âright.â his voice dipped lower on the word. you hated the way it affected you. hated the way the flashlight glow caught against his jaw, the way his eyes stayed fixed on you like he was trying to peel apart every reaction you had.
outside, thunder cracked again. you instinctively stepped closer to him. not close enough to touch. but close enough for him to notice.
a mistake. because chan's gaze dropped briefly to your bare legs before lifting back to your face.
âput the fucking sweater on,â he said quietly this time. âwhy? worried about me?â
his eyes held yours. âmore than i should be.â
the room went painfully still after that. your pulse stumbled hard enough to make you angry.
you ended up leaving the studio an hour later once the rain calmed enough to be manageable again. not before chan practically shoved the sweater at you a second time after catching you trying to hand it back. âput it the fuck on,â he said flatly.
âwow. so caring.â
âdonât flatter yourself.â
you rolled your eyes, but you still wore it out into the storm. and annoyingly enough, by the time you got home, you realised it smelled exactly like him.
cedar wood and clean laundry. you hated that.
hated it even more when you caught yourself pulling the sleeves over your hands and burying your face into the fabric for half a second while kicking your shoes off near the door.
âoh, this is bad,â you muttered to yourself immediately. because now your apartment smelled faintly like chan too.
meanwhile, back at the studio, chan sat alone in the chair staring at his phone like it had personally offended him. the power had returned twenty minutes ago. music played softly through the speakers again. but he hadnât gotten any work done since you left.
his mind kept replaying the way you looked wearing his sweater. sleeves hanging past your hands.
your hair still slightly damp from the rain.
fuck.
he scrubbed a hand over his face aggressively. this was getting ridiculous. you were annoying. stubborn. mouthy. constantly arguing with him.
he did not fucking care whether you got home safe. so why was he still staring at your contact like a man possessed? his thumb hovered over the keyboard. stopped. started again. stopped.
donât text her. seriously. donât. youâd never let him live it down.
he tossed the phone onto the desk. picked it back up thirty seconds later. âfor fuckâs sake,â he muttered.
before he could overthink it again, his fingers moved.
chan: ÂŤ got home okay? Âť
he stared at the message the second it sent, immediate regret settling in. what the hell was wrong with him? his phone buzzed less than a minute later. and despite himself, his heart kicked hard against his ribs.
ÂŤ no actually. died halfway there. Âť
his mouth twitched instantly. god. there it was again. that stupid rush every time you answered him.
ÂŤ tragic. hope my hoodie survived though. Âť
you snorted softly to yourself while curling further into your couch.
ÂŤ barely. still reeks of your fucking ego. Âť
he leaned back in the chair, smiling before he could stop himself, like an idiot.
ÂŤ you still wearing it? Âť
your eyes narrowed at the message.
ÂŤ why? you miss it? Âť
three dots appeared almost immediately. disappeared. appeared again. you stared at your screen way too intently.
ÂŤ maybe i just donât trust you with my clothes. Âť
heat crept into your face annoyingly fast.
ÂŤ relax. iâm not trying to steal your precious hoodie. Âť
ÂŤ already did. Âť
your stomach flipped. you hated how much you liked this version of him. because somehow, over text, the banter felt even more entertaining. like all his attention narrowed directly onto you. you bit your lip before typing back.
ÂŤ you this annoying with everyone or am i special? Âť
this time, his reply took longer. far longer. chan stared at the message for a while, jaw tightening slightly because the answer came too easily.
youâre the only person who talks back.
youâre the only one i think about this much.
youâre the only one who gets under my skin.
instead, he typed:
ÂŤ donât let it get to your head. Âť
a couple days later, you found yourself back at the studio again. mostly because felix had begged you to bring him lunch after claiming he was âseconds away from starving to death.â dramatic.
you sat cross-legged on the couch while felix inhaled noodles beside you, rambling about some artist they'd been working with while music played quietly through the speakers.
you were halfway through making fun of him for nearly setting the break room microwave on fire earlier when the studio door opened.
and immediately, your attention shifted. chan walked in wearing all black, headphones hanging around his neck, one hand pushing through his hair tiredly before his eyes landed on you.
his expression barely changed. but his heartbeat did. fast enough to irritate him instantly. because there you were again, sitting comfortably in his space like you belonged there now. laughing, talking, wearing that exact expression that always made him want to argue with you just to keep your attention on him longer.
âlook who decided to show up,â you said casually.
âlook who keeps invading my studio.â
felix looked between the two of you with immediate interest.
chan dropped into the chair across from you before his eyes narrowed slightly. âdid you bring my hoodie?â you blinked innocently. âno.â his brows lifted. âno?â
âthatâs what i said.â
âyou keeping it now?â
you snorted softly. âmaybe i like it.â
his gaze flickered over you slowly. "should i be worried?â
âdepends,â you said lightly. âyou emotionally attached to it?â
ânot usually.â
felix looked absolutely delighted. âjesus christ,â he whispered to himself.
you ignored him. mostly because chan was still staring at you with that infuriatingly focused expression that made you feel overly aware of yourself.
âi can go get it right now if youâre gonna be dramatic about it,â you said.
the smart response wouldâve been no. he knew that. he shouldâve said: donât bother. itâs just a hoodie. bring it whenever.
instead, his mouth betrayed him. âgo ahead.â
you stared at him for a second before laughing in disbelief. âyou are such a fucking pain in the ass.â
âyou took my hoodie.â
âyou told me to wear it!"
âdidnât say permanently.â
you narrowed your eyes at him while felix openly watched the exchange like live entertainment. âsee?â you muttered. âthis is exactly what i mean. you always need things your way.â
âand you always pretend you donât like giving me a hard time.â
âi could think of a million things i'd rather do.â
âsure.â god, that smug look on his face made you want to throw something at him.
instead, you leaned back against the couch dramatically. âwell, too bad. iâm not going home right now just because you snapped your fingers.â
his jaw twitched slightly. âfine,â he said after a second. âiâll pick it up tonight after the studio.â
your heart stumbled instantly, hard enough to genuinely piss you off. because suddenly all you could think about was chan standing inside your apartment. wearing that look, talking to you in that low voice, being alone with you again.
you forced yourself to stay casual. âfine.â but the word came out thinner than you intended.
his eyes stayed on you for one extra second too long before the corner of his mouth tilted upward slightly, satisfied. like heâd already figured out exactly what that idea did to you too.
a little after eight, your phone buzzed. you stared at the notification longer than necessary.
ÂŤ address. Âť
your thumbs hovered over the keyboard while your heartbeat steadily picked up speed. this was a bad idea. letting chan into your apartment, alone, at night, after whatever the hell had been happening between you lately, felt objectively stupid.
his hoodie sat freshly washed and perfectly folded on your desk like evidence of a problem you refused to acknowledge. you shouldâve just brought it to the studio earlier.
after another minute of overthinking, you sent him your address anyway. the three dots appeared almost immediately.
ÂŤ be there in thirty. Âť
your stomach flipped. âthis is so fucking stupid,â you muttered to yourself. and yet you still fixed your hair before he arrived. fucking pathetic.
exactly thirty minutes later, there was a knock at your door. of course he was punctual. you had no idea why the smallest thing about him annoyed you this much.
you grabbed the hoodie quickly before opening the door just enough to shove it towards him immediately. âhere. now leave.â
chan looked down at the folded sweater in your hands before slowly lifting his eyes back to your face. âcute welcome.â
âyou came for the hoodie. here it is."
instead of taking it right away, he leaned one arm against the doorframe casually. his gaze stayed fixed on you while he finally took the sweater from your hands. and then he noticed it. the scent. your detergent.
his fingers tightened slightly around the fabric. fuck. he hated how much he liked it. hated the immediate thought that crossed his mind.
you narrowed your eyes. âwhy are you looking at it like that?â
ânothing.â
âyouâre literally glaring at your own hoodie.â
âiâm thinking.â
âdangerous hobby for someone like you.â
his mouth twitched. there it was again. that tiny almost-smile that only ever seemed to appear around you. âyou washed it.â
âobviously.â
âdidnât think you had it in you.â
you scoffed immediately. âgod, youâre annoying.â
âyou say that every time you see me.â
âbecause it remains true every time i see you.â
he laughed quietly under his breath before his eyes drifted past you briefly into your apartment. âyou gonna make me stand out here all night?â
âthat was actually the plan.â
ârude.â
âyou'll survive.â but despite the sarcasm, you stepped aside anyway.
the second chan walked past you, the atmosphere shifted. you shut the door quickly behind him before you could overthink the fact that you were now alone with him again.
his eyes landed on you again almost immediately. âyou nervous?â he asked suddenly. you blinked. âwhat?â
âyou keep fidgeting.â you immediately stopped moving out of spite. âyouâre imagining things.â
âam i?â
âyes.â
he hummed softly, unconvinced. âinteresting.â
âwhat is?â
âyou only get defensive when iâm right.â
âand you only talk this much when you want attention.â his brows lifted slightly. "you think i want your attention?â
you laughed once in disbelief. âplease. you practically orbit around me at this point.â
that hit harder than intended. you could tell immediately by the way his expression shifted.
chan stepped closer slowly, enough to make your pulse spike.
âcareful,â he said quietly. âyouâre sounding very confident for someone whose heart is racing right now.â
your breath caught. âyouâre insufferable.â
âyou already said that.â
âbecause you keep proving it.â
âthen tell me why,â he murmured, eyes dropping briefly to your mouth, âyou still let me in?"
the tension snapped tighter instantly.
âdonât flatter yourself,â you said, though your voice came out weaker than intended. âyou came here for a hoodie.â
âright.â the way he said it made heat spread low in your stomach. because suddenly it very much did not feel like this was about the hoodie anymore.
the room felt unbearably small now. every sarcastic comment, every lingering glance, every argument between you two over the past weeks suddenly sat heavy in the air between you.
chan stayed close. close enough that you could see the tension in his jaw every time you opened your mouth again. which, naturally, only made you want to push him further.
âyou know,â you said lightly, even though your pulse was completely betraying you now, âfor someone who supposedly canât stand me, you spend an awful lot of time in my personal space.â
his eyes narrowed. âyou think this is me trying to be close to you?â
âi think youâre obsessed with annoying me.â
a humourless laugh left him. âtrust me,â he murmured, âif i wanted to annoy you, youâd know.â
your stomach tightened hard at the tone of his voice. but you still crossed your arms stubbornly. âwow. terrifying.â
chan couldn't help but stare at your arms crossed over your tits. those goddamn tits. âyou should be scared.â
âof what?â
his gaze locked onto yours completely. âof how much iâm trying not to lose my patience with you right now.â
the words hit like a physical thing, your breath catching slightly. his expression darkened. âthere it is,â he said quietly. you swallowed once. âthereâs what?â
âthat look.â
âwhat look?â
âthe one you get when you stop pretending you hate this.â
heat flooded your face instantly. âyouâre delusional.â
âam i?â he stepped even closer. your back nearly brushed the edge of the counter behind you now. every instinct screamed at you to move. you didnât. because despite the tension winding painfully tight in your chest, despite how impossible he was, you wanted him close.
âyou talk too much,â chan muttered suddenly, eyes fixed on your mouth now instead of your eyes.
you scoffed softly, though it came out shakier than intended. âyet youâre always listening.â
âthatâs the problem.â your heartbeat stumbled at his low voice. âdo you have any idea,â he said slowly, âhow fucking badly i want to shut that smart mouth of yours?â
silence crashed between you. your breath came shallow now. because suddenly all the tension between you two finally had a name. and judging by the way chan looked at you, heâd stopped trying to deny it entirely.
you shouldâve stepped away. shouldâve said something sarcastic. something sharp. something safe.
instead, your eyes flicked briefly to his lips before you whispered, far too softly: âwhatâs keeping you then?â
that was it. whatever restraint chan had left snapped instantly. his hand caught your jaw almost desperately before he crashed his mouth against yours. like heâd been holding himself back for weeks and finally lost the fight.
the kiss was all heat and frustration and ruined patience. you kissed him back immediately, fingers gripping the front of his shirt as his other hand braced against the counter beside you.
and god, chan kissed exactly how he argued: intense and demanding. like he tried to be in control even in the heat of the moment.
a quiet sound caught in his throat when you pulled him closer, like he couldnât quite believe this was finally happening either.
his forehead pressed briefly against yours when he pulled back just enough to breathe, both of you visibly affected now. and then the idiot actually muttered: âstill think iâm annoying?â
you let out a breathless laugh despite yourself. âthe most annoying."
his mouth curved against yours again. âyeah,â he murmured, already kissing you again, âbut you kiss me anyway?"
you snorted against his lips. "just trying to see whether your ego is justified."
a dark chuckle escaped chan's throat, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, his erection pressing against your lower belly.
"think you can impress me with a hard cock?" chan's hands twitched at that. he wanted to smack that smug expression of your face so badly. wanted to make you shut that goddamn mouth of yours.
instead, he inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. "watch it." he said through gritted teeth, trying to hold onto his last bit of self control.
"or what?" you replied confidently, looking up at him, smiling way too sweetly. chan's breaths came out heavier, his hips grinding against you instinctively.
"or i will show you exactly what this cock is capable of doing to you. and spoiler alert, you're not gonna like it."
you snorted at that. actually snorted, right in his face. "yeah? think you're gonna break me, channie?" the soft nickname on your lips were his complete undoing. his cock twitched, you felt it through the fabric. he placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, pulling back but caging you in. he could no longer be this close to you, he had to get his cock away from you. because he was about to snap.
"you have no idea what you're doing to me." he spoke, voice rough. a smug expression crossed your face, you leaned forward, breath hot against his ear as you whispered, "what if i know exactly what i'm doing to you?"
his hand shot up, grabbing your hair so hard it hurt, tilting your head back. you couldn't help yourself but moan out, legs clenching together. chan smirked, grip tightening in your hair, "you fucking like that? being manhandled? where's your fucking smugness now?"
you stared at him, hating how your body betrayed you. "fuck you, chan." you muttered. but that only encouraged him. he knew he had you.
"that the only comeback you can think of?" he mocked, his other hand now grabbing your jaw, holding your head in place. he pressed his body against you again. "c'mon, put that smart mouth to work. i dare you."
but you remained silent, breaths coming out in puffs as you tried to calm your racing heart. "where did your attitude go, hm?" he asked, pushing his leg between yours. he pressed his thigh against your core, making your breath hitch, looking at you with mocking eyes.
"you asked me if i think i can break you? yes, i can. tell me to stop and i will leave right through that door. but if you say yes to this, i will make sure you forget your own fucking name."
he waited. patiently. for any answer. for a simple yes or no. you blinked up at him, mind racing, until you finally nodded your head confidently. "is that a yes?" he asked, tone still mocking. "use your fucking words." his tone was commanding as ever. but he needed to hear it, needed your verbal consent.
"yesâ" you choked out. and after that, all hell broke loose.
a low sound escaped chan's throat, his grip on your hair tightening, yanking your away from the counter and towards the couch. it hurt, the way he was handling you. he pushed you towards the sofa, finally letting go of your hair. "undress." he said, standing tall in front of you, arms crossed as he watched you. "i'm not gonna ask again."
your fingers trembled slightly as you started undressing yourself, eyes never leaving his. "for fuck's sake." chan muttered, clearly impatient. he smacked your hands away, basically ripping your clothes away. his hands roamed over your body, feeling your warm skin against his fingertips. you felt better than he could have ever imagined. he groaned, his mouth suddenly back on yours. the kiss was laced with desperation as his hands grabbed your tits, squeezing them through your bra before taking it off with skilled fingers. "fucking perfect." he muttered more to himself than you.
he pinched your nipples hard, needing to know how you react to it. you hissed, biting your lip, gaining a smirk from chan.
he pushed you down on the couch, standing tall in front of you. his thumb traced over your lower lip. "open." he grabbed your hair, tilting your head back. "tongue out." your jaw clenched slightly, not wanting to obey him, wanting to challenge him. but when his grip in your hair tightened painfully, you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. chan leaned forward, spitting into your mouth before sliding two fingers along your tongue. he moved them further into your mouth, his cock twitching in his pants.
"i'm gonna show you how to put that smart mouth of yours to good use, yeah?" he muttered as he started sliding his fingers in and out of you. you wrapped your lips around them, looking up at him. he pulled your hair harder, tilting your head further, retrieving his fingers from between your lips and smacking your cheek hard. "fucking answer when i'm talking to you."
your breath caught in your throat, eyes watering the slightest bit. "well right now, you're all big words and no fucking action." your snappy response earned you another slap against your cheek, coating it with your saliva that was still on his fingers.
"you fucking bitch." chan just shook his head, unable to believe that you still had the audacity to talk back. he yanked your hair. hard. moving you to lie on your back, head on the armrest of the couch. he pulled you further until your head was hanging over the edge.
he was already working on his pants, pulling them down, freeing his cock, right over your face. he gave it a few strokes, watching you. he didn't waste another second, tapping it against your lips. you smelled him, the saltiness of his precum coating his tip.
he didn't push in, not yet. he smeared his precum over your lips. "tap my thigh three times in a row if it gets too much. understand?" he asked, growing more impatient by the minute. you nodded. fucking nodded. "words, sweetheart." he said through gritted teeth.
"i understand." you said.
"good girl."
"don't fucking call me that. i'm not your good girl."
chan only grinned at that. "you'd rather i keep insulting you?"
"i'd rather you finally put that cock to use." you snapped back. he smacked your tit, making you flinch. "yeah, i fucking should. shut that goddamn mouth of yours for once."
and with that, he pushed his cock past your lips, his hips snapping involuntarily, shoving his length down your throat. "fuckâ" he cursed loudly, watching your throat, how it took shape of his length. "holyâ"
you immediately gagged around him, not having expected him to just shove his entire length in with no further warning.
and he fucking kept it there, making you choke, cutting off your air supply. you tapped his thigh three times, and he immediately pulled back, realising that he got caught in the moment. you immediately took a deep breath, coughing.
"you want to be treated like a fucking whore, then fucking take it like one."
"you're a fucking asshole, bang chan, you know that?"
a dark chuckle erupted from somewhere deep inside him. "yet you still take my fucking cock like you're my own personal slut." and before you could say anything, he rammed his cock back into your mouth, deep down your throat.
his hips moved in quick little thrusts, fucking your mouth till you couldn't breathe, pulling back to let you get some oxygen before repeating his movements. his hand reached for your throat, squeezing it, feeling the pressure of his own hand around his cock buried deep down.
you choked. hard. your body started jolting until he finally pulled out, a long strip of saliva still connecting your mouth to his cock.
"you're trying to fucking choke me to death?" your voice sounded hoarse, your throat so raw it hurt to talk. chan just grinned down at you, his fingers smearing your own saliva all over your pretty lips. you caught his finger, biting it.
"fuck! you bitch!" chan called in surprise, withdrawing his hand, connecting it to your cheek with a hard smack. and of all possible things you could have done, you fucking moaned at his action. "you're un-fucking-believable." chan muttered through gritted teeth.
"on your hands and knees." he ordered, voice way too calm for the storm inside him. you snorted. "don't fucking boss me around like that."
chan was losing his patience. he grabbed you, handled your body with a strength that left you breathless as he flipped you over on your stomach. "don't make me tie you the fuck up."
you snorted again. fuck, it drove him wild. he wanted to punish you for fucking breathing. "be my guest. i don't own any ropes."
a slow, wicked grin spread on chan's face. "oh, trust me. i can get very creative." and with that, his hands left you and you heard him wander off. you turned your head to the side, watching him waltz around your apartment like he fucking owned the place.
"what the fuck are you doing?" you snapped, already shuffling to get up.
"if you dare move even a fucking inch, i'm gonna spank your ass till it's burning red." your breath hitched at his words. but that still didn't stop you from rising to your feet and following him. who did he even think he was?
you found him in your bedroom, picking up a belt that was stored neatly in one of your drawers. he looked ridiculous. going through your stuff, half naked, his stupid cock still glistening with your saliva.
you stood there, butt naked, crossing your arms over your chest. "stop fucking going through my stuff."
"why? hiding something you don't want me to find?"
you snorted, "no. just don't like fucking assholes going through my things."
he walked past your bed, opening the drawer of your nightstand. "oh my god! you have no fucking respect!"
you knew what he would find. and you couldn't care less. he held up your pink vibrator a few seconds later, grinning like he found a precious treasure. "cute." he muttered.
"oh wow, blame a girl for owning a goddamn vibrator."
chan turned around, standing in front of you, vibrator in one hand, belt in the other. "you get yourself off with this thing?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"yes." you replied confidently but couldn't suppress the soft flush spreading from your neck to your face. chan grin only widened. his eyes travelled past you, landing on a light scarf hanging over the back of your desk chair. "perfect." he muttered, walking past you to grab it. "remember how i told you not to fucking move?"
you rolled your eyes, "remember how i told you not to boss me around?"
chan came up behind you. you could feel the heat radiating from his body. he threw the vibrator and the scarf on the bed. your eyes followed the items. "you know, that scarf is actually my favourite, if you ruin itâ"
"don't care." he cut you off, grabbing your wrists, yanking them behind your back harshly. he tied the belt around them, making you gasp.
"and the only thing i plan on ruining," he moved his hands up your arms, fingertips ghosting over the skin, giving you goosebumps. "is you."
his lips connected to your shoulders, leaving a few kisses till he reached your neck. his arms snaked around you from behind, pulling you flush against him, his cock hard against your butt. he bit your neck hard, making you hiss, before sucking the flesh, making sure to leave a fucking mark.
he pulled back slightly, watching the skin change colour, grinning in satisfaction, before repeating it a little further up. your ass ground against his cock, making him suck your skin harder.
"fuck, you like getting marked like a fucking whore?" he whispered against your skin, his hands squeezing your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you moan. "chanâ"
you moaning his name like that was his complete undoing. he needed more. needed more of you moaning his name, screaming it.
he grabbed the small vibrator from the bed, turning it on and guiding it over your hardened nipples. you pressed yourself harder against him, soft moans now constantly leaving your lips. he started grinding his hard cock against you, moving the vibrator down to your cunt, running it over your clit lazily. you arched your back, your hips starting to move against the toy. "chan, pleaseâ" you couldn't suppress the soft whimper, no idea where the sudden needy tone came from. but it made him lose his mind.
he threw you on your bed, yanking your ass up before you could even gather yourself, your hands still tied tightly behind your back.
he started wrapping your scarf around your thighs in figure 8s, tying them together. once he was done, he took a step back, admiring the view. you turned your head to the side, pressed against the mattress, ass in the air. you tried to get a glimpse of him. he stood there, swallowing hard, just... watching you.
"you're a fucking weirdo, bang chan."
his eyes didn't move away from your bare core, "shut up or i will gag you." he said as his eyes finally met yours. he moved closer to the bed, leaning forward, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of your face. "if anything gets too much, you use the word 'red' and i will stop immediately, okay?" you blinked at him a few times. the fact that he still ...cared, despite the hatred, despite you riling him up constantly, made something warm settle in your chest. "okay."
his hand started caressing your butt cheeks, way too softly. the serious expression on his face was replaced by a smirk. and then he smacked you. hard. you couldn't move, hands tied together, thighs tied together. all you could do was flinch.
"you should learn to fucking listen. if i tell you not to move, you don't fucking move." another smack. you opened your mouth, wanting to protest. he cut you off with another deliberate slap. "don't you fucking dare talking back right now." he said, making you grin. fucking grin.
"godâ" he shook his head, his next smack making you wince from the sting. and then his finger just entered you with no fucking warning. you moaned out loud in surprise, moving back against his touch.
chan let out a dark chuckle. "you're so fucking desperate, it's pathetic." he said, his finger moving in and out of you with ease. "so fucking wet."
his free hand slapped your ass again, so hard it left a handprint. he added a second finger, curling them inside you, making you moan involuntarily. "fuck, chanâ"
his cock twitched at you moaning his name again. fuck, that did things to him. "again." he muttered, teeth clenched, trying to keep any bit of self-control. "moan my fucking name again." he pumped his fingers faster, curling them at just the right spot, his name leaving your lips in soft moans, driving him insane.
he dropped to his knees, pulling his fingers out of you and burying his face into your cunt. "fuck!" you cried out, body jolting forwards. he grabbed your hips harshly, holding you in place as he fed on you like a man starved.
"tastes so fucking good." he groaned against you, his tongue swirling around your clit a couple of times before licking up to your entrance, pushing inside you. he reached for the vibrator again, turning it on, bringing it to your clit, while his tongue moved in and out of your hole.
you ground your cunt against him, moaning shamelessly as you felt your orgasm build up. "chanâ" you moaned and he knew. he wanted to deny you the orgasm, wanted to edge you, to make you feel as desperate as you always made him feel. but he couldn't. not when you were moaning so sweetly. not when your cunt was grinding against his face so desperately.
your legs started trembling and he threw the vibrator away. it scattered on the floor somewhere as chan grabbed your hips harder, fingers digging into you so hard, they'd leave bruises. he held you in place, burying his face deeper inside you.
"just fucking come on my face already." he murmured into you, big hands moving to your ass, squeezing the cheeks harshly.
you tried to hold back your orgasm, not wanting him to feel even the slightest amount of pride for making you come. and he noticed. noticed the way you tried to hold back.
"for fuck's sake!" he groaned, pushing two fingers back inside you, curling them right where you needed them, making you cry out.
"stop being so fucking stubborn." his fingers pumped into you relentlessly, hitting your g-spot again and again, making you see stars, head spinning. until you finally could no longer hold back. with one last flick of his tongue over your clit, you came undone. he guided you through your orgasm and you could feel his fucking grin against your cunt.
"that's it." he murmured, clearly satisfied with himself. "just shut the fuck up." you snapped. bad idea. he smacked your cunt so hard, it made you lose balance, collapsing onto the mattress. with your legs and hands still tied, you couldn't lift yourself up, legs still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.
chan just chuckled darkly behind you, giving his cock a few pumps, watching you being completely at his mercy. he's been dreaming about this, fantasising about it. his eyes wander over your body, spotting every goddamn mark he left. bites, hickeys, fingerprints. he loved it. but he needed more.
he reached forward, grabbing your hair and yanking you back. his breath was hot against your ear, his cock pressing against your ass. "i'm gonna fuck you now, yeah? fill that pretty little cunt. mark you properly."
he gave you a few seconds to protest, but you didn't. you were still catching your breath, body still trembling. he let go of your hair, starting to undress himself. you didn't want to look. you knew he was handsome as fuck, didn't need a proof of that. but you couldn't help turning your head, watching him over your shoulder. fuck.
"stop staring." he said, not even looking up as he neatly placed his clothes over the chair at your desk. your eyes traced his toned body, all the way to his perfect ass. goddamnit.
"don't fucking flatter yourself." you snorted, but your words lacked any bite. chan ignored it, standing behind you, cock fucking throbbing and all. "ass up." he ordered. you struggled against the restraints, trying to move back onto your knees.
"fucking pathetic." chan murmured as he gripped your hips and pulled you up. his hands sprawled over your butt cheeks, squeezing them. you hissed. they still hurt from earlier.
chan just watched you for a while, with you getting impatient. "stop staring." you repeated the words he just threw at you, grinning to yourself. his hands flinched against your butt cheeks, ready to smack the shit out of you, but he took a deep breath instead.
he spit down on his cock, using one hand to spread his saliva over it, before pushing inside you with no further warning. "fuck!" you cried out, jolting forwards. "godfuckingdamnit chan!"
you were so fucking wet, he just slid right in, all the way. he gritted his teeth, trying not to think too much about how fucking good you actually feel. trying not to think about how he actually, finally, has his cock buried inside your fucking cunt. trying not to think aboutâ fuck. his cock twitched inside you, realising how your walls are clamping down on him.
it pissed him off. how good you felt. how warm you were. how fucking wet. how much he wanted you, even though he finally had you.
he grabbed your hair, wrapping it around his hand, yanking you back forcefully, his cock buried to the hilt. he yanked until you were pressed against his chest. "i'm not gonna last long if you keep clenching your fucking walls around me."
your soft moans turned into a snort. "who's pathetic now? you haven't even fucked me properly, channie."
he lost it at the sweet nickname on your lips. his free hand smacked your ass. hard. grabbing your hips. the grip in your hair tightened as he started moving. his hips snapping brutally, each thrust into your sensitive cunt making you whimper.
"you drive me fucking insane." he murmured against your neck before biting down hard, making you cry out in surprise. he groaned against your skin, keeping a steady rhythm. you cried out his name again, and again, making his head spin.
he let go of your hair, forcing you to fall onto the mattress, grabbing your hips, fucking deeper into you. his pace brutal and intense. until your legs could no longer hold you up. they shook so violently, you collapsed onto the mattress.
but he didn't stop. he adjusted to the changed angle within seconds, pushing your hips further down, hips slamming against you, fucking you into the mattress. he moved one hand between your shoulder blades, the other staying on your hip, almost his entire weight holding you down.
"chanâ" everything was overwhelming and the familiar knot started tightening in your stomach. his cock rubbed against that sweet spot deep inside you, making your walls clench violently around him as you came hard.
chan cursed under his breath, your orgasm triggering his own. his thrusts become sloppy, desperate to fill your cunt with his load. desperate to fucking breed you.
with a guttural groan, he stilled deep inside you. his arms shook slightly as he emptied himself into you. you felt it, his thick load warm inside you. "fuck, that's it." he murmured almost inaudible, his hips doing small micro thrusts.
he removed his hands from you, placing them on the mattress beside you. but he didn't pull out. not yet. he reached for the belt around your hands, undoing it, freeing you.
you were both breathless, panting heavily. chan's hand reached for your face, swiping some loose strands away. "you okay?"
your body was sore. you were hyper aware of every mark he left on you, your skin burning. but you nodded. the intensity of both your orgasms was enough to make up for the soreness.
he pulled out slowly, sitting back, watching you. your legs were still tied together, looking absolutely perfect to him.
when his cum started dripping out of you, his eyes widened, addicted to the view. "fuck," he groaned, fingers catching the thick liquid, smearing it over your cunt. when more started dripping out, he groaned.
he collected every drop, pushing two fingers inside you. "chan?!" you called out in surprise, but his name died on your lips, turning into a moan. his mind was fucking gone, as he started fucking his cum right back into you with his fingers.
"fucking appreciate the load i gave you." he said, voice dark. he smacked your ass, fingers pumping in and out of you, pushing his cum back inside.
"don't lose a single fucking drop or i'll have to fill you up again."
and right then, fucking his seed back into your cunt, having you whimper at his touch, moan his name with a broken voice, one thing became perfectly clear to him. that he didn't want this to be a one time thing. already too obsessed with the way your body reacts to his.
just a short drabble of what it'd be like to have chan as your enemy
mdni!
warnings: f! reader, rough sexual content, fantasising, jerking off, oral, breeding, fucking his cum back into you
wc: 838
okay, hear me out. we don't talk about enemies to lovers with chan enough.
i get that he seems too sweet a person to have enemies. but let's face reality, once you do something that pisses him off? he won't hold back.
chan tried to be nice to you. when felix introduced you to the group. but something about you just annoyed him so deeply. he didn't even know what it was. maybe it was your smart mouth, your overly confident attitude, the way you had the audacity to talk back at him if something didn't sit right with you.
he hated it. but even more, he hated how much it affected him. physically and mentally.
chan hated how your constant banter and bickering turned him on. hated how his cock twitched in his pants when you talked back, trying to stand a little taller in front of him, crossing your arms over your beautiful tits.
he hated how much he thought about them. hated how badly he wanted to bite them, leave marks all over them, cover the soft flesh in bruises.
and that smart mouth of yours? he hated how badly he wanted to shut you up properly. not just by verbal sparring. but by shoving his thick length deep down your throat until you would be gagging and choking around him. and he'd smack your face if you even dared to pull back, grab your hair, tell you to take it like a good girl.
and you'd fucking hate him calling you that. if you could, you'd keep insulting him, mocking him. but with his dick shoved deep down your throat? you could only try to protest. your tiny fists hitting against his thighs. and he'd fucking thrive on it.
he'd throw you on the bed, head dangling down from the edge. and he'd use your throat like a fucking toy. until it was all sore, your voice hoarse. keeping you from ever talking back at him again.
he wouldn't stop there. absolutely not. as much as he would love to shoot his thick load down your throat, he needed to mark that pretty cunt of yours.
he wouldn't even need to prepare you, you'd already be fucking soaked from him fucking your throat.
he'd grab your hair, yank you up, force you on your hands and knees, yanking your pants and panties down in one swift motion.
he'd taste you. he'd have to. he'd been thinking about it too much, wondering what you'd taste like. so his mouth would latch onto your core, making you jolt forwards, gripping your hips so forcefully, it will leave bruises, holding you in place.
he wouldn't stop until you were whimpering, begging him to finally fuck you, causing him to groan into your cunt.
and he'd ask once again, for permission, for consent. because despite his deep hatred for you, he'd never do shit without consent. and once he has it, there's no holding back.
he'd thrust his still wet cock into you, not giving a single fuck about wrapping it. he needed to breed you. finally make his fantasies become true.
he'd grab your hair with one hand, using his free hand to smack the shit out of your butt cheeks, making sure to leave his handprints on them. he'd thrive on leaving his marks all over you. bruises, bite marks, handprints.
he'd love to hear you moan out in desperation, cry out from the overwhelming sensation. he'd fuck you until your legs gave out, your whole body trembling. and even when you couldn't hold yourself up any longer, he'd continue his merciless thrusts, fucking you into the mattress.
when you finally reach your high, you will have forgotten everything but his fucking name. he'd make sure of that.
with your walls clenching around his cock, gripping it, trying to get it deeper inside you, he'd come undone. shooting his load right into you.
you think that'd be the end of it? think again. he'd keep his cock buried inside you for a while, letting the two of you come down from your highs, his mind slowly catching up to what just happened. when he'd pull out... when he'd see his thick load dripping from your pretty cunt... something primal would take over, an animalistic sound leaving his lips.
he'd use his fingers to fuck his cum right back into you. making sure it stays deep inside you. he'd smack your ass, telling you to fucking appreciate him granting you his seed. telling you that you better keep that shit inside. that he'd only have to fill you up again if you dared to lose a single drop.
and he would fuck you again. because he'd get addicted.
yet right now, he can only fantasise about this in the darkness of his bedroom. his cock in his fist, moving violently up and down, teeth gritted, cursing you for making him feel this way.
and he will once again cum all over his abs with your name on his lips.
a/n: yeah well... fuck. should i write a fic about this?
in which chan figures you're the remedy for his sleepless nights, finding peace not only in some much needed rest but also in grinding his hard-on against you still fast asleep next to him
mdni!
warnings: dry humping, reader being half asleep, somewhat oblivious to chan's actions, mention of alcohol
wc: 970
it had started a few weeks ago, when chan had revealed to you that he suffered from severe insomnia. you blamed it on the alcohol in your system back then that you offered him to come over when he can't sleep, mentioning that you're usually up late because of uni assignments. you didn't expect him to take you up on that offer. but when his message came in a couple of days later, asking if your offer still stands, you let him come over.
that was the first night he fell asleep on your couch while you were typing away on your laptop.
the couch soon became your bed, engulfed in your scent, feeling at peace. you'd climb in at some point. and soon, his arms would wrap around you as soon as he felt your presence.
you let him. let him because it felt good. let him because you felt protected.
and each night he stayed over, the space between you during the night decreased. until you were all tangled up, bodies pressed together.
when chan woke that morning, he couldn't help but notice your closeness, couldn't help but notice his raging hard-on against your butt. he cursed softly, trying to move away from you subtly. but when you only scooted back in your sleep, trying to be close to him again, he stopped. fuck. he was screwed. his control shattering in the morning haze.
he buried his face into your neck, lips brushing against your skin unconsciously. he was completely wrapped around you now, literally and figuratively. his brain still foggy with sleep.
goosebumps spread over your skin when his lips brushed against the skin of your neck, pressing yourself harder against him.
he felt the goosebumps rise under his fingertips where his hand rested on your waist, and he knew you felt that feather-light brush of his lips against your neck. a warm flutter spread through his chest, knowing he affected you even in your sleep.
he pressed another soft, barely-there kiss against the sensitive skin of your throat, unable to resist the temptation. his thumb stroked soothing circles over your hip.
when you move again at the feel of his lips, your butt brushes against his cock, making him remember how hard he was. he curses softly against your throat, but can't seem to keep his lips away from your skin.
he tried to stifle a moan, feeling you against his aching cock. his body pressed instinctively against you, seeking friction, his hips arching slightly. his lips continued their innocent assault on your neck, kissing, nibbling, sucking softly. his mind is conflicted embarrassment wars with desire. should he stop?
his soft kisses and nibbles on your neck made your hips continue moving against him, your breathing becoming heavier, and he couldn't help it but grant himself the friction he so desperately needed.
his breath caught as you unconsciously ground against him, even in your sleep. it's innocent, but it felt so fucking good.
he lost control, his hips moving instinctively against you, seeking more contact, more pressure. his lips sucked harder on your neck, marking you unconsciously as his arms pulled you flush against him. he was completely lost in the moment, his hard cock grinding against your ass through the fabric of your clothes.
you moaned his name softly, still asleep. it didn't pull him out of his haze, if all, it encouraged him, made him get even more lost in the moment.
his name falling from your lips in that sleepy, breathy tone was his absolute undoing.
he groaned against your throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. his hips buck more insistently now, his cock throbbing painfully against you. he needed more, needed to be inside you, needed to feel you wrapped around him. but you were still sleeping. he couldn't. wouldn't. so he settled for grinding harder, using your body as his personal friction toy, his mouth latched onto your neck like a lifeline.
he was about to cum in his pants but he didn't care, he needed this. he hasn't managed to jerk off properly in weeks, his mind too full, too busy. he hasn't felt this fucking good in so long. he needed that release desperately. and the unconscious moan of his name, the way you ground against him even in your sleep, threw him right over the edge.
he came hard, his body shaking with release as he was grinding out his orgasm against you, his hot cum leaking into his boxers. he buried his face in your neck, muffling a loud, guttural moan as he rides out the wave, his arms clinging desperately to you.
his hips stuttered and jerked against you as he emptied himself completely, his body limp and satisfied for the first time in forever.
once he came down from his high, he pulled away carefully. he noticed the tiny mark on your neck he accidentally left there. it was barely visible, but it was there. the tiniest amount of guilt tried to spread in his chest but was replaced by the overwhelming sensation of the orgasm he just had. he hasn't felt like this in weeks and it was intoxicating.
he watched you sleep, his fingers gently tracing the faint hickey on your neck. the guilt tried to surface again, but he quickly pushed it down, replacing it with the warm afterglow of his orgasm and the comforting feeling of being wrapped around you. he decides right then that he doesn't care about the guilt or the consequences. you made him feel too good.
and just like that, this became a new routine. chan started coming over at night whenever his schedule allowed it, falling asleep in your bed, in your arms, waking early to find you wrapped around him, grinding himself against you.
a/n: hi hello, i know it's been a while. i had a lot going on with uni but umâ couldn't help but get back into writing drabbles. is it still okay to use my old taglist even though it's been like what? six months since i last posted haha
anyway, about writing... it's good for uhhâ motivation
you didnât remember ordering the last drink. one second youâd been laughing at something chan said, something stupid and very him, and the next the glass was empty in your hand and the warmth in your chest had spread too far, too fast.
âokay,â you said, squinting at him. âi think iâm officially past the fun drunk and entering the honest drunk.â
chan smiled, âyeah? that sounds dangerous.â
you bumped your shoulder into his. âyou say that like youâre not always dangerous either.â he snorted. âiâm literally just a guy.â
âa very attractive guy,â you muttered. he froze for a second there. âwhat?â he asked lightly, like he hadnât heard you. you turned your head, blinking at him. âwhat what?â
âyou said something,â he replied, eyes searching your face. ârepeat it.â you laughed, waving a hand. âno, i didnât.â
âyou did,â he said, gentle but firm. âhey. you okay?â
âiâm great,â you said. âi justââ you frowned, words slipping loose now that the door was open. âi just think itâs funny how you pretend you donât know.â
âknow what?â
how did you explain years of small moments in a sentence? how did you explain late-night talks and shared headphones and the way he always walked you home, no matter how tired he was?
you stepped closer to him, close enough that you could see the tiny crease between his brows. âthat youâre⌠you. and that it affects people.â
his voice dropped. âyouâre drunk.â
âyeah,â you said. âbut not wrong.â his smile faded.
âletâs get you home,â he said.
âchan,â you said, tugging lightly at his sleeve. âdonât do that.â
âdo what?"
âthat thing where you decide for both of us.â
he exhaled through his nose, eyes flicking away. âiâm deciding for you. youâve had too much to drink.â
âi know i have,â you said. âthatâs why iâm saying this now, before i chicken out again.â
that made him look at you. âsaying what?â he asked.
you swallowed. suddenly very aware of how close you were. of how his shirt smelled like laundry soap and him.
âthat iâm attracted to you,â you said. the words tumbled out messy. âthat i have been for a long time. and i tried not to be, because youâre my best friend and i didnât want to ruin anything, but i think about you all the time and i notice things i shouldnât notice andâ"
âhey,â he said softly.
you laughed, a little hysterical. âsee? this is why i shouldnât drink.â
he reached out, hands warm on your arms, grounding you.. âhow long?â he asked quietly.
you blinked. âwhat?â
âhow long have you felt like this.â
you hesitated. âsince before i let myself admit it.â
his jaw tightened. âthatâs not fair,â he murmured, more to himself than to you.
âi know,â you said. âiâm sorry.â
âdonât apologise,â he said immediately. âyou didnât do anything wrong.â
you looked up at him. âthen why do you look like that?"
he huffed a breath, shaking his head. âbecause i want to do something i shouldnât.â
your heart skipped. âlike what?"
he leaned in before he could stop himself. you felt the shift, the gravity of it. his forehead hovered inches from yours, his voice barely above a whisper.
âlike kiss you,â he said.
your breath caught. âthen why donât you?" you whispered.
his eyes closed. just for a second. when they opened again, there was something raw in them. "because youâre drunk,â he said. âand i care about you too much to ever wonder if i took advantage of a moment.â
that hurt more than if heâd laughed it off. âso thatâs it,â you said quietly. âyou donât feel anything.â
he pulled back just enough to look at you properly. âdonât say that.â
âthen say something else.â
his hands slid down to your wrists, thumbs brushing over your pulse. you could feel how fast your heart was racing. you wondered if he could too.
âiâve wanted you for a long time,â he admitted. âlong enough that i learned how to lock it away. long enough that i convinced myself it was safer to stay quiet.â
your chest ached. âchanâŚâ
âbut i wonât cross this line tonight,â he continued. âno matter how much i want to. and believe meâ" his voice wavered just a little. âi really want to.â
you nodded, suddenly emotional. âokay.â
âokay?â he asked, surprised.
âokay,â you repeated. âthank you. for being⌠you.â
he smiled sadly. âyeah. thatâs the problem.â
chan walked you home, the silence was heavy with things unsaid. when you reached your door, he hesitated.
âtext me when you wake up,â he said. âjust⌠so i know youâre okay.â
you smiled at him. âworried about me?â
âalways,â he said without thinking.
you went inside before you could say something stupid.
the next morning, your head hurt less than your heart. your mind replayed everything. every word. every look. the way heâd almost kissed you.
your phone buzzed.
chan.
ÂŤ hey. you awake? Âť
ÂŤ yeah. unfortunately very sober. Âť
there was a pause.
ÂŤ do you remember last night? Âť
you stared at the screen.
ÂŤ yeah. i do. Âť
another pause. longer this time.
ÂŤ can i come over? Âť
your fingers trembled as you typed.
ÂŤ yes. Âť
he showed up twenty minutes later with hot choclate in one hand and nerves written all over his face. he stood awkwardly in your doorway until you laughed and stepped aside.
âyou donât have to look like youâre about to be executed,â you said.
âi kind of do,â he replied. âthis conversation feels important.â
you sat next to each other on the couch, knees almost touching.
âare you okay?â he asked. âreally?" you nodded. âare you?â he smiled, relieved. âbetter now.â
you took a breath. âeverything i said was true.â
he didnât hesitate this time. he leaned forward, hands bracketing your face, eyes searching yours one last time.
âme too,â he said. âevery feeling. every want.â
you blamed the alcohol for the confidence. normally, you filtered yourself around minho. normally, you matched his energy. sarcasm for sarcasm, insults disguised as affection. but tonight the line between teasing and truth blurred until it didnât exist at all.
âyouâre walking funny,â he said, glancing at you as you stumbled slightly on the pavement.
âiâm walking honestly,â you replied. âbig difference.â
âthatâs not a thing.â
âit is when youâve had three cocktails you didnât pay for.â
he scoffed. âthat explains why youâre acting like this.â
âlike what?â
âlike youâre about to confess to a crime.â
you stopped and turned to face him. âoh, i already did that once. remember when i said i didnât eat the last dumpling?â
his eyes narrowed. âyou did eat it.â
âsee? honesty.â
he shook his head, lips twitching. âyouâre unbearable.â
âyou like that about me.â
he shot you a look. âdonât push it.â
you smiled at him, a little too soft for the joke. âbut you do.â
there was a beat. just a fraction too long. âyeah,â he said dryly. âplatonically. unfortunately.â
you laughed, but it came out quieter than you meant it to. âwow. devastating.â
âyouâll recover,â he replied. âyouâre resilient. like a cockroach.â
âyou think iâm resilient and disgusting?â
âi didnât say disgusting.â
âyou implied it.â
âyou inferred it,â he corrected. âthatâs on you.â
you walked a few steps, then glanced back at him. âdo you ever get tired of pretending you donât know things?â
he raised an eyebrow. âdepends. what am i pretending not to know now?â
âthat youâre hot.â
he barked out a laugh. âokay, youâre definitely drunk.â
âiâm serious.â
âyouâre always serious when youâre wrong.â
âiâm not wrong,â you insisted. âyou know youâre attractive. you just hide it behind sarcasm and looking annoyed all the time.â
âthatâs just my face.â
âliar.â
he stopped walking. âare you flirting with me?" he asked, deadpan. âi might be,â you said. âis it working?â
âno.â
you crossed your arms. âwow. rude.â
âiâm just confused,â he said. âyou donât flirt. you insult me.â
âi can multitask.â
he stared at you, expression unreadable. âyouâre drunk.â
âyes, congratulations. gold star.â
âyouâre going to regret this.â
âi regret not saying it sooner.â
that got him. his mouth opened, then closed. âokay. say what?"
you stepped closer, invading his space on purpose this time. âiâm attracted to you.â
he laughed immediately. âno, youâre not.â
âwow,â you said. âdid you just reject me before i finished?â
âiâm saving us both time.â
âiâm serious, minho.â
âyeah, and iâm the king of england.â
your heart started racing. âstop doing that.â
âdoing what?"
âlooking at me like that.â
âlike what?"
âlike youâre thinking.â
âi am thinking.â
âseems dangerous.â
he scoffed, but his eyes flicked down to your lips. just for a second. then he straightened. âyou donât mean this,â he said. âyouâre drunk and sentimental.â
âiâm drunk,â you agreed. âbut iâve been attracted to you sober too.â
âsince when?"
you shrugged. âsince you started caring more than you pretended to.â
his jaw tightened. âthatâs not an answer.â
âit is for you.â
he exhaled slowly. âyouâre a menace.â
âyou like that.â
âi really donât.â
you reached out, fingers brushing his sleeve. for a moment, you thought he might kiss you. the air felt charged. his hand hovered near your waist, not touching.
then he pulled back. âyouâre drunk,â he said flatly. âand iâm not dealing with this version of you.â
that stung. âouch.â
âdonât look at me like that.â
âlike what?"
âlike i just kicked a puppy.â
âyou kind of did.â
he rolled his eyes, but his voice softened. âlet's get you home. sleep. weâll pretend this didnât happen.â
you swallowed. âand if i donât want to pretend?"
âyou will tomorrow,â he said. âtrust me.â
you didnât.
the next morning, your head was clearer and your phone was buzzing.
ÂŤ you alive or should i start planning a funeral? Âť
you stared at the screen.
ÂŤ alive. sober. unfortunately still remembering everything. Âť
three dots appeared. disappeared. reappeared.
ÂŤ tragic Âť
ÂŤ youâre not funny. Âť
ÂŤ iâm hilarious. youâre just embarrassed Âť
ÂŤ iâm not embarrassed. Âť
ÂŤ then why are you avoiding the point? Âť
you sighed.
ÂŤ everything i said was true. Âť
there was a long pause.
ÂŤ âŚgreat. Âť
ten minutes later, there was a knock on your door. you opened it to find him leaning against the frame, arms crossed.
âyou look too awake,â he said.
âyou look too annoying,â you replied.
âgood. balance restored.â
you stepped aside. âare you here to mock me or have an actual conversation?â
âboth,â he said, walking in. âmostly the first.â
you faced him. âi meant it.â
âi know,â he said quietly. âthatâs the problem.â
âwhy is that a problem?"
he stared at you for a long moment, then stepped forward abruptly and kissed you
you noticed it immediately, the shift. one moment changbin was laughing, cheeks flushed, leaning against the bar as he listened to you ramble about nothing. the next, you slurred his name just a little too softly, and everything about him changed.
âbinnie,â you said, blinking slowly. âcan i tell you something?â he straightened. completely. like a switch had flipped.
âhey,â he said gently. âyeah. whatâs up?â
you smiled at him, warm and loose and unguarded. âyouâre really handsome, you know that?â
his breath caught. you saw it. his smile faltered. âokay,â he said slowly. âyouâre drunk.â
âi know,â you said. âthatâs why iâm brave.â
he chuckled under his breath, but there was no humour in it. âthatâs usually when youâre not brave.â
you stepped closer, swaying slightly. instinctively, his hands lifted, then stopped midair, hovering like he was afraid to touch you.
âhey,â he murmured. âcareful.â
âsee,â you said fondly. âthis. this is what i mean.â
âmean what?"
âyouâre always so kind,â you continued, words spilling now that theyâd started. âand funny. and you listen. and you make everyone feel safe without even trying. and i hate that i noticed all that, because youâre my best friend and i shouldnât be thinkingâ"
his jaw tightened. âthinking what?" he asked quietly.
you laughed, embarrassed but honest. âthings. things i really shouldnât think about you.â
that did it. whatever buzz heâd had left him completely. his eyes darkened, focus sharpening, like heâd sobered in a single breath.
âokay,â he said firmly. âweâre stopping right there.â
you frowned. âwhy?â
because if you say one more nice thing, iâm going to kiss you, he didnât say.
instead, he stepped back. put space between you on purpose.
âbecause you donât deserve this conversation like this,â he said. âyou deserve to remember it. to choose it.â
you tilted your head. âi am choosing it.â
âno,â he said softly. âyouâre choosing it drunk.â
you reached for him again, fingers brushing his wrist. he froze, eyes flicking down to where you touched him, then back up to your face.
âchangbin,â you said, voice earnest. âyouâre everything i ever wanted. ever dreamed of.â
his throat bobbed. his hands curled into fists at his sides. âdonât,â he whispered. âplease donât say things like that right now.â
âwhy not?"
âbecause i want you,â he admitted, voice low. âand i donât ever want to wonder if you only said yes because youâd had too much to drink.â
you searched his face, suddenly emotional. âyouâre such a good man.â
that almost broke him. he closed his eyes for a second, then opened them, steady again. âlet me walk you home.â
the walk was quiet. every step felt like restraint. at your door, he hesitated, hands shoved deep into his pockets like that was the only way to keep them there.
âget some sleep,â he said. âdrink water. text me when you wake up.â
you nodded. âwill you still want to talk to me?"
he smiled sadly. âi donât think i could stop myself.â
he left before you could say anything else.
he didnât sleep. by noon the next day, he was standing outside your apartment with takeaway bags in both hands, heart pounding like he was about to step into something irreversible.
you opened the door, hair messy, face bare, eyes clear.âhey,â you said.
âhey,â he replied, suddenly nervous. âuh. i brought food.â
he held the bags up like proof of good intentions. you smiled. âyou didnât have to.â
âi wanted to,â he said. then, more carefully, âare you sober?â
you didnât hesitate. âyes. and i meant every word, binnie.â
the way you said his name so softly undid him completely.
the bags slipped from his hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud, forgotten. he stepped forwards, hands cradling your face like it was instinct, like heâd been holding himself back for too long.
âgood,â he breathed. then he kissed you. desperate and warm and full of everything heâd swallowed the night before.
you kissed him back just as fiercely, hands clutching his shirt like you were afraid heâd disappear.
he pulled back only enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath shaky. âiâve liked you for ages,â he whispered. âi just didnât think i was allowed to.â
you were already emotional before the words even left your mouth. maybe it was the music, which was too loud and echoing in your chest. maybe it was the way hyunjin was leaning close so you could hear each other, eyes bright, hair falling into his face like he didnât even realise how unfair he looked.
âyouâre staring,â he teased.
âiâm appreciating,â you corrected, swaying slightly. âitâs different.â he smiled, âyouâve had a lot to drink.â
âyeah, i think iâve had enough,â you said. âenough to finally say it.â
that made him pause. âsay what?"
you laughed, but it came out fragile. âthat i think iâm in love with you.â
the world seemed to slow.
âyouâreâ" he stopped himself, then laughed quietly. âokay. wow. bold.â
you frowned. âdonât joke.â
he blinked. âiâm not. i justâ" he searched your face, suddenly serious. âare you serious?"
you nodded. âiâve never been more serious about anything in my life.â
his breath hitched. you watched his hand lift, fingers twitching like he wanted to touch you, then curl back into his sleeve instead.
âyouâre drunk,â he said, almost mournfully.
âyes,â you agreed. âbut i didnât invent these feelings tonight.â
he stepped closer anyway, unable to help himself. his voice dropped, turning soft without trying. âdo you have any idea,â he said, âhow long iâve imagined you saying something like that?"
your heart skipped. âthen why do you look like youâre about to cry.â
âbecause this feels like a tragedy,â he replied. âperfect moment, wrong timing.â
you smiled. âyou always talk like weâre in a movie.â
âbecause it feels like one,â he said. âand i donât want to ruin the ending.â
you reached for him. he caught your wrists gently, holding them between you. âif i kiss you right now,â he whispered, âiâll never forgive myself.â
âhyunjinâŚâ
he leaned in anyway, forehead touching yours, breath warm. âi want you sober. i want you choosing me with clear eyes.â
then, with visible effort, he stepped back. âlet me walk you home,â he said. âbefore i do something poetic and stupid.â
the next morning felt unreal. you remembered everything. painfully clearly.
your phone buzzed.
ÂŤ did you sleep okay? Âť
ÂŤ yeah. i hope you don't think i forgot anything i said last night. Âť
three dots appeared instantly.
ÂŤ good. then i can be honest. Âť
a knock came at your door not ten minutes later.
when you opened it, he was standing there dressed simply, nerves obvious. in his hand was a singel flower. just one.
you blinked. âis that⌠for me?â
he nodded, suddenly shy. âi thought one felt more⌠intentional.â
your chest tightened. his eyes softened like heâd been waiting to exhale.
âlet me say this properly,â he said. âiâve loved you quietly for a long time. like a secret i didnât think i was allowed to keep.â
you reached for him. this time, he didnât stop you.
he kissed you slowly, reverently, like the moment deserved to be remembered forever. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
âsee,â he murmured. âmuch better scene.â you laughed softly. âhappy ending?" he smiled. âweâre just getting to the good part.â
I have read some of your fanfics and they are all so nice. Where do you take the inspiration for your stories? And how long do you write one of your longer stories?
thank you so much, truly :')
i have a rather vivid imagination, so most of my stories are imaginary scenarios i come up with in my head before falling asleep hahaha. i'm always very grateful for requests, they always inspire me a lot, even if i sometimes change them the slightest bit.
as for how long it takes me to write them, it usually varies. sometimes, when i'm really inspired, i finish a 4k+ story in less than a week, yet a 2k one can take me multiple weeks up to multiple months to finish. it also always depends on how much time i have at hand, considering i just started attending university after working for many years to save up for it âĄ
hey how do you do the fake text? I would like to try it out but I donât know which program to use or how to make them in generell. Do you use a program or an app to make these?
i have an iphone so i basically just use the imessage app to create the fake texts. i unfortunately don't know about any apps or programs which can be used. perhaps one of my followers/anyone who sees this can comment some? âĄ
summary: tucked away in the back room of the art gallery, the tension finally boils over and the connection only grows deeper, far beyond something physical
genre: strangers to lovers, smut! {~3.9k words}
warnings: explicit language, fingering, sexual intercourse, use of darling once
this is part two of exhibit a
mdni !
the backroom was quieter than the gallery, the door clicking shut behind you like a secret being kept.
the daylight shining in from the tiny window seemed softer here, casting gentle shadows over canvases stacked against the walls. some were unfinished, some rejected, some simply too personal to be framed and displayed.
hyunjin stepped inside slowly. he didnât speak. didnât rush. he moved from one painting to the next with deliberate care, posture attentive like he was afraid of disturbing them. his eyes traced every line, every colour choice, every hesitation youâd ever left behind in brushstrokes.
but his thoughts werenât entirely on the art. every few seconds, his gaze drifted to you. trying not to be obvious about it. just quick glances, checking your expression, your posture, the way you breathed as he lingered in front of a piece. like he was trying to memorise you alongside the paintings, stitching the two together in his mind so neither could exist without the other.
you felt it. the way his attention brushed against you even when his body faced the canvas. the tension sat thick in the room, pressing in closer with every quiet step he took.
there were questions burning inside him. you could see them in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his lips parted slightly before closing again. questions about intent, about pain, about you. they sat heavy on his tongue, begging to be asked.
but he couldnât. not when all he could focus on was the sound of your breathing behind him. the subtle shift of air when you moved. the faint trace of your scent. something that was so grounding, yet impossibly distracting.
he stood in front of one painting for to long, realising he hadnât absorbed a single detail. because his body had already decided.
whatever he wanted to know, whatever he was afraid to ask, it wasnât going to start with words.
he turned towards you before you realised heâd decided to move.
the distance between you disappeared in a single step, his presence suddenly everywhere. he didnât say your name. didnât say anything at all. his hand came up slowly, like he was giving you time to stop him, fingers hovering just short of your waist.
you didnât. that was all the permission he needed.
his touch settled firmly against you, and the tension that had been coiled tight in the room finally gave way. he leaned in, forehead brushing yours for half a second, close enough for you to feel his breath, before his lips found yours again.
the kiss seemed different this time. slower. deeper. like he was trying to memorise the shape of your mouth, the way you responded to him. his hand tightened slightly, anchoring you there, and you felt the way his body relaxed into the contact, like this was where heâd been trying to get since the moment heâd stepped into this room.
a quiet sound slipped from you before you could catch it. he reacted instantly, a soft exhale leaving him as his mouth moved more insistently against yours, encouraged by the way you melted into him. the world narrowed to heat and breath and the steady pressure of his hands, to the way his thumb brushed unconsciously at your side like he needed to make sure you were real.
your hand slid around the back of his neck, fingers curling into his hair as hyunjin deepened the kiss. and he was no longer able to stop his hands from roaming. his cold fingertips slipped under your shirt, giving you goosebumps.
you inhaled sharply, your mouth parting just slightly, enough for him to push his tongue inside it. you moaned at the sudden sensation and hyunjin was about to lose it right there.
he pulled you flush against him, needing you as close as humanly possible, one hand steady on your back. the other traveled the front, up to your tits, squeezing them gently through your bra.
both of you were too caught up in the moment, forgetting all about where you were, what you were doing, who you were doing it with. a complete stranger. in the back room of an art gallery, door closed but not locked.
hyunjin kissed your throat, and you arched your back, throwing your head back to grant him better access. his teeth grazed your skin and he just wanted to bite the soft flesh, suck on it, mark you. his hips bucked into you involuntarily at the thought of making you his.
"hyunjin," you wanted to say his name softly, wanted to make the two of you come back to reality, but instead, his name came out as a moan.
he acted on that, his leg moving inbetween yours, thigh against your clothed core. he grabbed your arse as he guided you on it and you couldn't help but rub yourself against him.
hyunjin groaned in desperation as he finally pulled away from your throat. he wanted to ask you if you were okay with this, if you wanted this as much as he did, but the way you looked at him made it impossible for him to keep his lips away from yours.
so he kissed you instead, the soft whimpers that left your throat went right into his mouth. his cock throbbed painfully with desire.
he whispered your name against your mouth, like a prayer. whispered it again, grounding himself, trying to swim back to the surface of reality. and when he finally pulled back, his grip on your hips loosening, he looked deep into your eyes.
"do you want me to stop?" he asked genuinely. even if it would have broken him physically and mentally, if you were to say yes right now, he would stop.
"don't you fucking dare, hyunjin."
that was all he needed. he pushed you back until your back hit the wall. a small, free space between canvases. he was quick to undo your trousers, hand slipping inside.
your own desire was painfully palpable, panties completely soaked, your walls clenching around nothing as his fingertips rubbed the smallest circles on your clothed clit. he was towering in front of you, watching you, studying your reaction.
"please, hyunjin." you needed more, craved his touch.
"it's about remembering you're alive." hyunjin repeated your words from earlier before he slipped his hand into your panties. he inhaled sharply as he felt you, your arousal.
his fingers were covered in your juices immediately. he kissed your temple as he slid one long digit inside you. "you're allowed to feel desire." he whispered against your hair, moving his finger in and out of you. "you're allowed to feel alive."
his words alone almost undid you. the sound of his voice hit something deep inside you.
his free hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, tilting your head back, making you look at him as he slid a second finger into you. and then he knew no mercy. his fingers pumped in and out of you at a fast pace, curling against the inside of your cunt, making you roll your hips against him.
his gaze never faltered. his eyes held yours intensely, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered. you were a moaning mess by now.
he rubbed his clothed hard on against you, desperate for some friction. it was almost embarrassing how much you loved the feeling of it. of knowing you had this effect on him.
your hand shot down, palming him, squeezing gently. "please, hyunjin." you begged. he clenched his teeth, clearly trying to control himself as he repeatedly curled his fingers at just the right spot.
your walls clenched around him, wanting to guide his fingers even deeper into you.
hyunjin swallowed down a groan. "come for me and you can have my cock." he murmured into your ear, kissing the skin just underneath your lobe. "come for me and i promise i will fuck you against that wall, darling."
and you did. hard. your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly, you feared your legs might give out. but hyunjin held you in place, pinned against the wall, guiding you through your orgasm, groaning a quiet "fuck, that's it."
once you came down from your high, he removed his fingers and slipped them into his mouth, the softest sound escaping him as he tasted you. as much as he wanted to eat you out, to cover his whole face into your juices and fuck his tongue into you until you came all over it, he knew he wouldn't be able to last. he would blow his load into his pants. and he had made a promise he had to fulfil.
he yanked down your trousers and panties in one swift motion, helping you step out of them. you reached for his belt with shaky hands, while he was busy fetching a foil packet from his wallet.
the thought of just dropping to your knees and sucking him off to repay the pleasure came to your mind. but you wanted him inside you so badly, the need for him burning embarassingly in your lower belly.
and his eagerness mirrored his own desire and desperation. he opened his fly with one hand, ripping the foil packet open with his other and his teeth.
his eyes never left yours, studying your face for any sign of regret as he freed his cock. you watched him, still out of breath, reaching for his length and giving him a few strokes. hyunjin threw his head back, eyes shut, half opened foil packet between his fingers. he let the moment linger for a bit, allowed himself to feel the touch of your soft hand around him.
he rolled the condom onto himself, grabbing one of your legs and placing it around his waist, knees slightly bent to find the right angle to line his cock at your entrance. he looked at you again, unable to speak but he didn't need words.
you nodded, soft smile on your lips and his heart jumped. he pushed inside you, slow, embracing the feeling of your warmth around him, watching his cock disappear inside you.
you moaned, the sensation of him stretching you out overwhelming. his eyes found yours again, watching your reaction with utmost care, before he finally started moving.
his cock slid in and out of you, rubbing your insides in just the right way, his tip hitting a spot so deep inside you as he fucked you against the wall.
hyunjin clenched his jaw, trying to suppress any sounds that threatened to escape. he wasn't usually very vocal during sex, but with you he had troubles holding back.
hyunjin's hands moved to your arse, palms stretching over your cheeks. "jump." he commanded, voice low. you wrapped your arms around him, and jumped up, wrapping your other leg around his waist as well.
hyunjin stilled for a moment, securing his grip on you, arms sliding under your thighs to steady you. when he moved again, his thrusts were slower but so much more intense. his lips were on yours in a heartbeat, wanting to feel connected to your body in every way possible.
it's about remembering you're alive. your words from earlier still echoed through his mind. he hadn't realised what an effect they've had on him back then. but right now, he felt more alive than he had in a very long time. with your cunt clenching around his cock, your lips chasing after his, your soft moans that were meant only for him.
and when you came around his cock, it didn't take him long to follow, to thrust deep inside you once more, movements coming to an halt as he filled the condom with his cum, his forehead resting against your shoulders, breaths heavy, arms shaking, but continuing to hold you.
you were tucked away here, hidden behind unfinished canvases and unspoken truths, and for a moment nothing else existed.
when he finally pulled back, it wasnât far. just enough to take a look at you. his forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath in the quiet.
he gently let your legs slide back down, his grip strong until your feet hit the floor. while you were still trying to comprehend what just happened, he was quick to remove the condom and tie it shut, before fixing his pants.
he picked up your trousers that were scattered on the floor and handed them to you, placing a tender kiss on your hand in the process. you laughed softly at that, and he was no longer able to hide his smile.
and only then, only once the need had eased into something softer, did he look at you like he might finally be able to ask his questions.
âi donât usually do this,â he stated quietly. he pulled you close to him again, hands resting at your waist like letting go would cost him something.
âi donât let myself give into my emotions this fast,â he continued. âi look. i think. i analyse until whatever iâm feeling makes sense.â a humourless breath left him. âyou donât make sense.â
you swallowed, heart beating too loudly in your chest. "you don't make sense either.â you whispered. his eyes softened at that, but something pained flickered there too.
âyour paintings,â he said, âthey felt familiar in a way that scared me. like they were pulling things out of me iâd already buried.â he hesitated, jaw tightening. âand hearing your explanations, your thoughts... only made it worse.â
you let out a quiet laugh that held no amusement. âi paint because i donât know how else to survive what i feel,â you admitted. âbecause if i donât put it somewhere, it stays in me. festers.â you looked at him. âi didnât expect someone to see it. not like you did.â
he nodded slowly, as if that confirmed something heâd already known. âiâve spent my life convincing myself that longing is dangerous,â he said. âthat if you want something too badly, itâll ruin you.â his thumb pressed unconsciously into your side. âstanding in front of your work made me realise i still want. and meeting youâ" he stopped, breath catching. âit made it impossible to pretend i donât.â
the silence that followed was heavy, almost crushing. you felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with skin.
âmaybe thatâs why this feels comforting yet terrifying,â you said softly. âbecause we recognise each other too well. because weâre built from the same kind of hurt.â
his forehead dropped against yours again, eyes closing briefly. âyeah,â he whispered. âthatâs exactly it.â neither of you pulled away.
the connection between you had grown heavy now, almost frightening in its depth. this wasnât infatuation or coincidence. it was two people standing too close to something raw, something honest, knowing that once acknowledged, it couldnât be undone. and still, neither of you stepped back.
he didnât give either of you time to overthink it. his hands slid up from your waist, one settling at the back of your neck, thumb brushing just beneath your ear as he pulled you in again. the kiss was unrestrained, like everything youâd just said had stripped away the last layer of caution.
his mouth moved against yours with urgency, but there was tenderness threaded through it now, something aching and deliberate. he kissed you like he was trying to hold onto this exact moment, like he knew how rare it was to feel this seen.
you responded without hesitation, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left to close. your breaths tangled, soft sounds spilling from you as the kiss deepened, emotion bleeding into every movement. bodies speaking where words had failed.
for a few seconds, maybe minutes, nothing else existed. not the world outside, not the pain, mot the fear.
a sharp sound interrupted you, completely out of place.
you froze first, the reality crashing back in as the alarm on your phone echoed softly in the room. hyunjin pulled back slowly, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard, eyes still dark with everything that had been building between you.
â5pm,â you whispered, more to yourself than to him. âi have a guided tour to give.â
the moment cracked open, fragile but not broken. he nodded, disappointment flickering across his face even as understanding followed. his hand lingered at your neck a second longer than necessary, having to memorise the feel of you before letting go.
neither of you said anything. there was nothing that could make leaving easier.
you smoothed yourself down before stepping back into the gallery, hands steady despite the way your pulse still raced beneath your skin. the space felt different now. brighter. louder. too open.
the small group gathered near the entrance turned towards you with polite smiles. they didnât know what had just happened a few meters away. didnât know how the air back there still felt charged, like it remembered.
you began the tour anyway. your voice came out even, practiced, guiding them from piece to piece. you explained techniques, themes, progression. how the exhibition moved through loss, grief, endurance. they listened intently, nodding, murmuring appreciation, asking thoughtful questions.
âyour work feels incredibly honest,â someone said.
âthereâs so much vulnerability,â another added.
you smiled. thanked them. answered with grace. but your thoughts kept slipping. back to the backroom. to the way hyunjin had looked at you when he kissed you goodbye. to the way he hadnât said a word, like anything he tried to offer would fall short.
as the tour ended, they applauded softly, congratulated you, lingered to offer praise. hands shook yours, compliments stacked up. you accepted them all. and still, your chest ached with the absence of one person who wasnât there anymore.
that night, sleep refused to come. you lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the room too quiet, your thoughts far too loud. every time you closed your eyes, he was there. leaning too close, breathing uneven, looking at you like he was seeing something fragile and sacred all at once.
you replayed everything. the way he listened. the way he kissed you like it meant something. the way neither of you had said goodbye.
your chest tightened as the questions crept in.
will you ever see him again?
was it too much, too fast, too intense to be real?
were you drawn together because you were compatible, or because you were both broken in the same places?
you turned onto your side, then onto your back again, the sheets twisting beneath restless hands. part of you wanted certainty, something solid to hold onto. another part feared it just as much.
maybe it was better this way, you thought. a moment suspended in time. something beautiful that didnât demand more. and yet the thought of never seeing him again made your throat ache.
somewhere across the city, unknown to you, hyunjin lay awake too.
the gallery replayed behind his closed eyes. the warmth of the backroom, the sound of your voice when you spoke about living through pain, the way you felt under his hands. he stared at the dark, jaw tight, heart heavy with the same impossible questions.
two strangers, who felt closer, more connected than they could have ever imagined, separated by distance now, both staring into the night.
the next morning arrived too quickly. you stepped into the gallery with heavy eyes and a body that felt like it hadn't fully rested, the events of the previous day clinging to you like a second skin. the familiar scent of paint and polished floors greeted you, grounding and disorienting all at once.
you barely made it two steps inside before someone hurried towards you.
it was one of the younger interns, the one whoâd helped you hang the frames, measure the spacing, adjust the lighting until everything felt just right. her face was lit up, practically glowing, a grin stretching so wide it bordered on disbelief.
âyour paintings are sold,â she blurted out. you stopped short. âsold?â you echoed.
she nodded rapidly, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. âyes. people started buying them last night. it happened really fast.â
your heart stuttered. âall of them?â you asked, breath catching.
âalmost all of them,â she said, leaning in conspiratorially. âandâ" her grin widened impossibly, âabout three of them were sold to the same buyer.âyou stared at her, shock washing over you in waves.
âguess you have a fan,â she added, clearly delighted.
not long after, you were waved towards the gallery ownerâs office.
the door was slightly ajar, warm light spilling out into the hallway. you knocked softly before stepping inside. she sat behind her desk, an elderly woman with kind eyes and a presence that felt both commanding and gentle. she looked up at you with a smile that carried genuine pride.
âsit,â she said, gesturing to the chair across from her. âi wanted to speak with you properly.â
you did, hands folded in your lap, heart still racing faintly from the news.
she spoke about your work with care, about its honesty, its emotional depth, how rare it was to see something so unguarded resonate with so many people. you listened quietly, gratitude swelling in your chest.
then she leaned back slightly. âthe final painting,â she said, âthe one with the red, gold, and white.â
your breath hitched. want after grief. âit brought in the highest sum.â
she told you the number. your eyes widened before you could stop yourself, the air leaving your lungs in a soft rush. âthatâs too much,â you whispered.
she smiled knowingly. âno,â she said. âitâs exactly what it deserves. and so do you.â
you swallowed, emotions tangling. disbelief, pride, something close to fear.
she continued, more casually now, âsome buyers have requested to pick up their pieces personally. theyâll be coming on sunday, when the exhibition finishes.â
you nodded slowly, still trying to steady yourself, unaware that the answer to every question that had kept you awake the night before was already waiting on a list just within your reach.
you waited until you were alone to look at the buyers' list.
it sat on the small desk near the back, neatly printed, names aligned with titles and notes in tidy columns. your fingers hovered for a moment before you picked it up.
you scanned the names slowly. some were familiar, collectors youâd met before, patrons who had followed your work quietly over the years. others meant nothing to you, just ink on paper, strangers who had seen something of themselves in what you made.
then you saw it.
hwang hyunjin.
your breath caught so sharply it almost hurt. your eyes dropped, reread the line like it might rearrange itself if you werenât careful. but it stayed exactly where it was. beneath his name were the titles. three of them.
the opening painting.
the one you had told him was your personal favourite.
and the final piece. the one about want after grief.
and beside the last entry, written neatly in the margin, were the words: pick up on sunday.
your heart began to race, heat blooming in your chest, spreading outward until your hands trembled slightly around the paper. he hadnât just bought one. heâd chosen the beginning, the end, and the piece youâd bared yourself most completely in. heâd understood.
slowly, you lowered the list, a quiet, disbelieving smile tugging at your lips.
sunday meant the exhibition would close.
sunday meant the gallery would be quiet again.
sunday meant he would walk through those doors knowing exactly who you were.
the thought sent a shiver through you.
the stranger who hadnât felt like a stranger at all was coming back. and this time, you wouldn't just let him slip away.
pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (no pronouns mentioned)
summary: when walking through your own art exhibition with a complete stranger turns into something way too emotionally charged and heated. a deep connection neither of you can deny
genre: strangers to lovers {~3.6k words}
warnings: reader is an artist, a lot of charged tension, mutual attraction
the gallery had been quiet all day. you stood near the far wall, half hidden by the angle of the space, watching people drift in and out with slow steps, hushed voices, polite distance. most of them skimmed. some lingered. none stayed long enough to feel heavy.
then the door opened again.
you noticed him immediately, not because he was particularly loud, but because he wasnât paying attention at all. and because he looked absolutely breathtaking.
he stepped inside almost absentmindedly, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes unfocused, as if he hadnât fully decided to be here. his gaze flicked around the room, like this had been a detour rather than a destination. you could tell he hadnât read the placard outside. hadnât prepared himself. he was just⌠here.
from his point of view, the gallery barely registered at first. white walls. soft lighting. quiet air. his thoughts were elsewhere, unfinished.
but then he stopped. simply halted in front of the first painting, as if something had caught him by the collar and pulled him back. his hand loosened at his side. his breathing slowed without him realising why.
the longer he looked, the more the rest of the room dissolved. the clean lines of the gallery faded, replaced by colour and texture. the painting didnât shout for his attention, didnât demand it. it waited. and somehow, that made it worse.
he leaned in slightly, head tilting, eyes tracing shapes he couldnât yet name. there was a tension in his posture now, the kind that came from being caught off guard. he hadnât expected to feel anything. certainly not this quiet pull in his chest.
you watched the way his expression shifted, how distraction gave way to focus, how focus sharpened into something almost reverent. the absentmindedness peeled off him layer by layer, replaced by stillness.
his lips parted before he realised he was speaking. âitâs fascinating,â he murmured, barely louder than the hum of the lights.
and that was when you turned your head, already knowing he was going to matter.
âwhat is?â your voice cut through the quiet gently, not loud enough to startle the room, only him.
hyunjin flinched, shoulders tensing as he turned towards you, eyes widening just a fraction.
he clearly hadnât expected anyone to hear him, hadnât realised heâd spoken aloud at all. for a split second, he looked caught, almost embarrassed, like youâd interrupted something private.
then you smiled. just a soft and curious smile. and something in him loosened.
he hadnât expected that either, the way the tension slipped from his spine so easily, the way his breath evened out without effort. it surprised him how quickly his body responded, how instinctive the relief was. he stood there, momentarily thrown by the fact that a strangerâs expression could settle him so completely.
his eyes stayed on you longer than they should have. he didnât mean to look the way he did. didnât intend for his gaze to drift, from your face down to the line of your shoulders, the way you stood so comfortably in the space, like you belonged there.
it wasnât hunger exactly, more like recognition without context. a heavy pull he couldnât immediately name.
from where you stood, you could see it happen. the pause. the quiet gravity of his attention.
hyunjin caught himself a heartbeat too late. he shook his head slightly, barely noticeable, as if the movement alone could snap him back into place.
his posture straightened. his focus shifted, deliberately this time, back to the painting in front of him, back to reality.
but the air between you had already changed.
and he knew, even then, that whatever had drawn him into the gallery in the first place had just taken a different shape.
he cleared his throat quietly, as if grounding himself, then lifted his hand towards the painting. he didnât touch it, never would, but his fingers hovered close, tracing invisible paths through the air.
âthis one,â he said slowly, choosing his words with care, âit feels⌠restrained.â
his eyes followed the lines as he spoke, sharp angles cutting through softer washes of colour. dark blues pressed in on themselves, bruised purples layered over grey, everything held in a kind of tense balance.
âi think the painterâs a reserved person,â he added after a moment, almost apologetic about the assumption. âor at least someone who learned early on how to keep things contained.â
his hand moved again, outlining the harsher strokes.
âthese parts, see how theyâre rigid? controlled? itâs like grief that never got permission to be messy.â his brow furrowed, concentration deepening. ânot the kind that breaks you open, but the kind you carry quietly. the kind you fold up and tuck away because there isnât room for it.â
he shifted closer, leaning in just enough to catch details most people missed.
âand then thereâs this,â he murmured, indicating the softer shading beneath the darker lines. âeveryone would call this comfort. acceptance. but i donât think it is.â his lips pressed together briefly. âi think itâs containment. like the emotion is allowed to exist, but only inside very specific borders.â
he paused, hand dropping back to his side. âit feels like someone who never let themselves fall apart, someone disciplined,â he said finally. âsomeone who decided early on that grief was something to be endured, not expressed.â
his voice was quiet now, as if he were afraid the painting might hear him.
you watched him as he spoke, the way his eyes stayed locked on the canvas, the seriousness with which he handled something that wasnât his. there was no performance in it. no desire to impress. just honesty.
when he finished, he glanced at you uncertainly, as though bracing for disagreement.
âthatâs just how it reads to me,â he added softly.
and in that moment, standing beside the man dissecting your pain with such care, you realised how dangerous it was to be truly seen, even anonymously.
you didnât answer right away. you let the silence stretch. not out of hesitation, but out of respect. his words still lingered in the air, and you didnât want to trample over them with something too quick, too decisive.
when you finally spoke, your voice was calm. âi agree with you,â you said, and watched the way his shoulders eased at that alone. âabout the restraint. about the quiet.â
his eyes flickered to you again, attentive now, like heâd leaned into an invisible current.
âbut i donât think itâs discipline,â you continued, stepping a little closer to the painting yourself. close enough to feel its presence, not close enough to touch. âi think itâs fear.â
you gestured towards the softer areas heâd mentioned. âthose parts arenât comfort,â you said gently. âtheyâre hesitation. like someone standing on the edge of something they already know is going to hurt.â
your fingers traced the air, mirroring his earlier motion. âthe lines donât soften because the feeling fades. they soften because it hasnât been named yet.â
you glanced at him briefly before returning your gaze to the canvas. âitâs not grief behaving,â you added. âitâs grief waiting for permission.â
the words settled between you. hyunjin didnât interrupt. didnât rush to respond. he just stared at the painting again, seeing it shift under your interpretation, like a lens clicking into place. something in his expression changed, not disagreement, but recognition.
slowly, he nodded. âthat makes sense,â he said under his breath. âmore than what i thought, actually.â
his eyes lingered on the canvas for another moment, then drifted back to you. this time, there was something different in his gaze, like curiosity sharpened by intrigue.
âyou explain it like youâve been inside it,â he said, not accusatory.
and you smiled carefully, already knowing how much you were giving away without meaning to.
he hesitated after that, like he was standing at the edge of something he hadnât planned to step into.
you could see the shift in him, the way shyness tried to reassert itself, tugging him backward, even as curiosity pulled harder in the opposite direction.
his fingers flexed at his side restlessly. his gaze drifted briefly to the rest of the gallery, then returned to you, as if the space between the two of you had quietly narrowed.
âi, um,â he started, then stopped, lips pressing together in thought.
when he spoke again, his voice was steadier, driven less by politeness now and more by want. âwould you like to walk through the rest of them with me?â he asked. âonly if you want to. i justâ" he exhaled softly, a hint of a laugh slipping out. âthe way you talk about it. itâs⌠fascinating.â
the word landed differently this time. heavier. intentional.
he met your eyes fully now, and there was no mistaking it. the longing wasnât just for the art anymore. it was for your perspective, the way you saw beneath the surface, the way you articulated things heâd felt but never named.
you felt a flicker of something warm in your chest. you hadnât planned to walk through your own exhibition like this. hadnât planned to hear it filtered through someone elseâs voice. and yet, the idea of staying anonymous, of letting the work speak without the weight of authorship, felt suddenly irresistible.
you nodded. âiâd like that,â you said. âbut only if you promise to tell me what you see, too.â
his eyes widened just slightly, caught off guard again, then they softened, and he smiled. genuine, almost uncontrollablly, like it had slipped out before he could stop it. it transformed his face completely, âi promise,â he said.
and as you turned together towards the next painting, you hoped quietly that the gallery would keep your secret just a little while longer.
you moved together slowly, as if the pace had been agreed upon without words. the second painting waited a few steps away, its colours darker, the composition more fractured. hyunjin stopped in front of it, hands sliding into his pockets as he tilted his head.
âthis one feels louder,â he said after a moment. ânot in sound, more like pressure.â he frowned slightly, searching. âlike everything is trying to occupy the same space at once.â
you hummed softly in agreement, and his eyes flicked to you almost immediately, as if heâd been waiting for that small confirmation.
âit reminds me of losing something before you realise itâs gone,â he continued. âthe chaos comes first. the understanding comes later.â he paused, then added quieter, âor maybe it never comes.â
you stepped closer, your shoulder nearly brushing his. âi think youâre right,â you said. âbut i also think itâs about identity.â you gestured towards the fragmented shapes. âpieces of the self competing when thereâs no clear center anymore. like grief doesnât just take something away, it rearranges you.â
his breath caught, just slightly. he nodded, lips parted, eyes bright. âyeah,â he said. âthat. thatâs exactly it.â
you moved on, and with each painting, the rhythm repeated itself.
he spoke with care, never rushing, never claiming certainty where there wasnât any. he noticed small details, repeated motifs, changes in texture, the way certain colours softened as the exhibition progressed. his interpretations werenât academic, they were emotional, grounded in empathy.
âthis one feels tired,â he said in front of another canvas, voice gentle. âlike itâs already mourned too much.â
âor like itâs learned how to live with the weight,â you offered.
every time you spoke, his attention sharpened. he glanced at you as often as the paintings now, eyes searching your face for reactions, for additions, for more. sometimes he asked outright.
âwhat do you think this part means?â
âdoes this feel intentional to you?â
âdo you think itâs anger, or resignation?â
and sometimes his questions drifted elsewhere.
âyou think about things like this a lot, donât you?â he asked at one point, almost shyly. ânot just art. life.â
you smiled at that, âi try to,â you said. âi think it helps me understand people better.â
his gaze lingered. âit shows.â
with every step, the space between you narrowed without any of you noticign. just a quiet gravity pulling you closer. your arms brushed. your shoulders aligned. at one point, you realised your footsteps had synchronised without either of you trying.
he leaned in when you spoke. you angled towards him when he did. neither of you commented on it.
you were both too busy being drawn in. by the art, by the conversation, by the strange, undeniable feeling that this wasnât just about paintings anymore.
the room shifted subtly as you approached the final piece. he felt it before he saw it, the way the air seemed warmer here, heavier, like something was waiting. hyunjin slowed instinctively, his steps faltering until he stopped altogether in front of the last painting.
he didnât speak right away. this one didnât demand careful decoding. it didnât hide behind restraint or fragmentation. it simply existed, open and unapologetic.
the colours were warmer. deep reds threaded with gold, pale whites cutting through like breath against skin. the lines were looser, almost trembling, as if the hand that painted them had hesitated and surrendered at the same time. nothing was fully formed, yet everything felt intentional, intimate.
hyunjin exhaled slowly. âthis oneâs different,â he said at last.
you watched the way his eyes moved across the canvas, slower than before. the intensity in his expression had shifted, sharpened into something more visceral.
âthe others feel like aftermath,â he continued. âlike pain being processed. carried.â his jaw tightened slightly. âbut thisâŚâ he swallowed. âthis feels like want.â
he lifted a hand, then stopped himself, fingers curling instead. âthereâs still grief here,â he said, thoughtful. âyou can feel it underneath. but itâs tangled with something else. something physical.â his lips curved faintly, almost disbelieving. âthe strokes feel almost⌠erotic.â
he glanced at you, checking your reaction, then back at the painting.
âoverwhelming. like the kind of beauty that makes your chest ache. like standing somewhere too vast to comprehend.â
his voice dropped as he found the comparison. âit reminds me of those old nature writings,â he said. âwhere the land is described so intensely it borders on desire. not because itâs meant to be possessed, but because it makes you feel painfully alive.â
"william bartram." you murmured softly. "you know him?" hyunjin asked. you just nodded without looking away from the painting.
his gaze lingered on the canvas, pupils dark, breath slow. âitâs like the body remembers how to feel before the mind can catch up,â he murmured.
when he finally looked at you again, the distance between you had all but disappeared. there was heat in his eyes now, deeply curious, drawn tight with fascination.
and the way he watched you told you he wasnât just looking for confirmation anymore. he was looking for permission to feel exactly what this painting had awakened in him.
the air between you changed without either of you moving. it thickened, like something had shifted just beneath the surface. you felt it settle in your chest, in the way your breath slowed, then deepened. when you spoke, your voice dropped only slightly, but enough to matter. âitâs want after grief,â you said quietly.
hyunjinâs attention snapped to you fully then, the painting forgotten behind him. his eyes were dark, unblinking.
âthe frightening part isnât the pain,â you continued. âitâs realising that desire survives it.â you swallowed softly. âthat after everything, the body still reacts. still aches. still reaches.â
you didnât look at him as you spoke, your gaze fixed on the canvas, as if the words needed somewhere neutral to land.
âitâs not about seduction,â you said, barely above a breath. âitâs about remembering youâre alive.â silence followed.
when you finally turned your head, you found him closer, far closer than before. he hadnât meant to move. his body had reacted before his mind could catch up, pulled forward by something instinctive and unignorable.
his chest rose and fell heavily now, breaths deeper than they had been moments ago. his lips were parted, eyes locked on your face like you were the only thing in the room worth anchoring to.
you could see it written all over him, the fascination tipping into something rawer, the way your words had struck somewhere beneath thought. he wasnât analysing anymore. he wasnât interpreting.
he was feeling.
and the space between you had dwindled to almost nothing, charged with the knowledge that neither of you was untouched by what had just been said.
hyunjin didnât answer right away.
instead, he studied you. really looked at you this time, like he was stripping away context, replaying every word youâd said, every certainty youâd carried so effortlessly. you could almost see it happen, the realisation clicking into place piece by piece. his gaze sharpened, no longer hazy with feeling but precise, searching.
âyou know an awful lot about these paintings,â he said. his voice was deeper than before. dangerous in the way it vibrated low in his chest.
you inhaled quietly, the breath catching just enough to give you away.
before you could say anything, he turned. his eyes dropped to the small plaque beside the painting, scanning it once, then again, slower this time. his lips parted.
he whispered your name. it didnât sound like a question. it sounded like reverence. like something fragile and sacred.
then he looked back at you. âthatâs you, isnât it?â he said, this time louder, steadier, though his eyes betrayed him.
you nodded. no words came. your throat felt too tight for them.
something in his expression softened instantly, awe flooding in where suspicion had been. he stepped closer, one deliberate step, and held out his hand.
âhwang hyunjin.â
you stared at his hand for half a second too long before whispering, ânice to meet you.â
when you took it, the tension finally snapped.
his touch was warm and grounding. and it lingered. fingers curled just enough to be intentional. electricity raced up your arm, and you saw the same jolt register in him as his breath stuttered.
neither of you pulled away.
the gallery faded. the paintings blurred. all that remained was the heat of his hand around yours, the quiet, impossible chemistry boiling over between two strangers who suddenly werenât strangers at all.
something in his expression shifted. dangerously decisive.
his eyes darkened, pupils blown wide, the last trace of hesitation burning away as if heâd finally stopped arguing with himself. you saw the exact moment the choice was made, when fascination tipped into need, when restraint lost its hold.
without another word, he moved. his hand tightened around yours and he pulled you with him, steering you around the corner of the gallery, away from the open space, away from the soft lighting and the possibility of eyes. the world narrowed to motion and heat and the sound of your pulse in your ears.
your back hit the wall with a soft thud, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. before you could inhale again, before you could think, before you could react, he was there.
his hands came up to either side of you, caging you in, his body close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the tension coiled tight beneath his skin. his breath was heavy now, brushing your face.
then his mouth was on yours.
the kiss was intense. all the careful analysis, all the quiet conversations and unspoken longing collapsed into that single point of contact.
it was charged, it was desperate, like heâd been holding this back since the moment heâd first stopped in front of your work.
his lips moved against yours with purpose, hunger threaded through every second, as if he were trying to communicate everything words had failed to carry. the fascination that had lived in his eyes became action, heat, urgency.
the tension youâd built together finally boiled over, spilling into the kiss, into the way neither of you pulled away, into the knowledge that this had been inevitable the moment he let himself really see you.
the kiss deepened without either of you meaning it to.
his hands slid to your waist, steadying you against the wall as if he needed the contact to ground himself. his touch was firm, thumbs pressing in like he couldn't refrain himself any longer. you felt the way his body leaned into yours, heat unmistakable, breath warm and uneven against your skin.
a soft gasp slipped from you before you could stop it. he felt it immediately.
his mouth stilled for half a second, then moved again with renewed intent, like the sound had unlocked something in him.
he kissed you harder, hungry to draw another breathy sound from your lips that he seemed to feed on, encouraged by every quiet noise you made. each one pulled a low sound from his chest in return, a soft exhale that trembled against you.
when he finally pulled back, it was only just enough to breathe.
you were both panting, the space between your mouths barely there. his chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes dark and blown wide as they scanned you, your expression, your lips, the way you looked utterly undone beneath him.
attraction burned openly now, tangled with awe. not just for you, but for what youâd created. for the way your mind worked. for the fact that you were standing here with him.
you swallowed, voice barely a whisper. âi have a few more works in the back room.â
the words hung charged between you.
hyunjin let out a sound that was almost a groan, his grip tightening instinctively as his eyes flicked up to meet yours again.
âshow me,â he said desperately, adding a breathless "please".
and the way he looked at you told you he meant it.
summary: when your best friend starts dating someone, you're happy for him. at least you try to be. but when the distance continues to grow between you, it shatters both of you, and he starts realising who he truly wants {requested by anonymous}
genre: angst! with a happy ending {~5.8k words}
warnings: jealousy, hurt, miscommunication, mentions of food, (use of y/n once)
the kitchen smelled faintly like toasted bread and instant ramen, the kind of comforting mess that always came with spending too much time at felix's place.
you were perched on the counter, legs swinging as felix leaned against the opposite side, laughing at something on his phone. his laugh filled the space so easily that you barely noticed how natural it felt to be there with him.
it always did.
you were wearing the hoodie heâd left at your place weeks ago, sleeves a little too long, and he was absentmindedly fiddling with the thin bracelet around his wrist. the one youâd made him years ago, back when friendship bracelets felt like promises.
âlisten to this,â he said, shoving his phone towards you. some ridiculous video played, and you snorted before you could stop yourself.
âyou have the worst sense of humour,â you told him, smiling anyway.
âthatâs a lie and you know it,â he shot back, grin wide. then, almost casually, like it didnât mean anything at all, he added, âoh, by the way, iâm going on a date tonight.â
the words landed wrong. they felt absolutely⌠off. like a note slightly out of tune.
for half a second, your chest tightened, breath catching before you even realised why. your mind scrambled to keep up with the sudden shift, to shove the feeling down before it showed on your face. you forced your expression into something bright, something easy.
âoh,â you said, then quickly, âreally? thatâs great, lix. iâm happy for you.â
and you meant it. you did. at least, you wanted to. you cared about him, wanted him to be happy, wanted his life to be full and exciting and everything he deserved.
that didnât stop the small, sharp sting in your chest, the one you pretended not to notice.
felix blinked. it was subtel, the way his smile faltered for just a moment before he smoothed it out again. his fingers stilled on the bracelet, hand dropping to his side.
âyeah?â he asked, like he was checking your answer. âyouâre⌠happy?â
âof course,â you said, too quickly. âwhy wouldnât i be?â
he hummed, nodding slowly, but something in his eyes shifted. confusion, maybe. disappointment. something unspoken settling heavy between the two of you.
heâd expected something else. he didnât know what exactly, maybe surprise, maybe hesitation, maybe a crack in your voice that betrayed something deeper. anything that proved he wasnât the only one who felt that strange, tightening pull when the idea of someone else entered the picture.
but you were smiling supportively. and for reasons he didnât fully understand yet, that made something sour twist in his stomach.
âi should get ready,â he said after a moment, pushing himself off the counter. âdonât wanna be late.â
âright,â you replied, nodding. âhave fun.â
he paused at the doorway, glancing back at you like he wanted to say something else. instead, he just smiled again, brighter this time, almost forced. âi will.â
when he left, the kitchen felt quieter. too quiet.
you stared at the spot where heâd been standing, fingers curling into the sleeves of his hoodie. the bracelet on your own wrist felt heavier somehow, the thread digging softly into your skin.
you told yourself it was fine. that this was something you knew would happen at some point. that youâd get over your iwn feeling like you always did.
you didnât see the way felix, down the hall, glanced at his reflection and frowned, thinking about how much heâd wanted your reaction to be different.
you were still sitting on the counter when the door opened again, the sound of shoes being kicked off echoing through the hallway. seungmin walked in, hair damp, practice bag slung over his shoulder, radiating that tired-but-energised post-practice vibe. he headed straight for the kitchen, nodding at you in greeting.
âhey,â he said easily. âyouâre quiet.â
âam i?â you asked, though your voice felt distant even to yourself.
he didnât push it. instead, he grabbed his water bottle. the normalcy of it grounded you a little, the familiar rhythm of someone else just⌠existing.
âfelix around?â seungmin asked, unscrewing the lid.
âyeah,â you replied. âheâs getting ready.â
seungmin paused, eyebrows knitting together as he looked up at you. for a second, you could almost see the thought forming behind his eyes.
ready for what? shouldnât you have to get ready then as well?
his gaze flicked over you, your hoodie, your lack of urgency, the way you were very clearly not scrambling to leave. the confusion lingered, then something clicked.
âoh,â he said, eyes widening slightly. âwait, whoâs he going out with?â
you shrugged, the motion small, almost careless. âno idea.â
seungmin frowned, clearly unsettled by that answer, but before he could say anything else, you pushed yourself off the counter.
âi should head out,â you said. âsee you.â
he watched you leave, the quiet click of the door closing behind you leaving the kitchen feeling oddly incomplete.
down the hall, felix stood in front of his mirror, tugging at the collar of his shirt for the third time. he shouldâve been excited.
instead, his mind kept replaying the same image. you, smiling. supportive. unbothered.
he swallowed, jaw tightening. it shouldnât matter. it didnât matter. you were his best friend. you always had been. the feelings heâd buried for so long were stupid, inconvenient, and clearly one-sided.
you didnât feel that way about him, he told himself. so why keep holding onto it?
felix exhaled sharply, straightening his posture. fine. heâd go on the date. heâd really go through with it. heâd let himself try, let himself prove that he could want someone else, that he could finally get over this stupid crush heâd carried for way too long.
he grabbed his jacket, forcing determination into his movements.
this was for the best.
for both of you.
when felix came back later that night, the dorm was dim and quiet, the kitchen light still on. seungmin was there again, rinsing a plate, glancing up when the door closed.
âyouâre back,â seungmin said. âhow was it?â
felix dropped his keys onto the counter, shoulders tense as he shrugged out of his jacket. he hesitated for half a second, long enough to notice the faint, unfamiliar emptiness settling in his chest.
âit was nice,â he said finally, tone carefully neutral. âi thought iâd give her a chance.â
seungmin studied him, something thoughtful in his expression, but he didnât argue. he just nodded slowly.
âyeah?â he said. âthat so?â
felix nodded, even as his fingers curled unconsciously around his wrist, rubbing over the place where his bracelet sat, like he was reminding himself of something he hadnât meant to forget.
days passed, slipping into each other the way they always did, and on the surface, nothing really changed.
felix still texted you the moment he woke up, half-coherent messages riddled with typos and voice notes where his voice was warm and sleepy. he still sent you pictures of the sky when it looked especially pretty, of his food when it looked especially bad, of anything that made him laugh because his first instinct was still you.
you replied like you always had. you teased him for his spelling mistakes, sent him memes in return, complained about your day, listened to his. sometimes you forgot that anything had shifted at all.
until it did.
a pause before he answered. a message left on read for longer than usual. a conversation that ended earlier than it would have before. you told yourself not to overthink it. he had a girlfriend now. things were bound to be different.
felix felt it too. every time his phone buzzed with your name lighting up the screen, something warm spread through his chest, and right after it, a sharp prickle of guilt.
his girlfriend would glance over, lips pursed. âyouâre texting her again?â she asked once, not quite accusing, but close enough.
âyeah,â felix replied, instinctively tucking his phone closer to himself. âwe always text.â
she hummed, eyes lingering on him for a second too long. âdonât you think thatâs a little⌠much?â
the word settled uncomfortably between them.
after that, she started hovering. leaning against his shoulder while he typed, peeking at the screen, commenting on your messages.
âwhatâs so funny?â
âwhy does she need to know that?â
âcanât it wait?â
felix started angling his phone away without even realising it, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. he hated the feeling crawling up his spine, like he was doing something wrong just by wanting to talk to you.
so he replied slower. shorter. sometimes not at all.
you noticed and didnât say anything at first, but the ache built quietly, every unread message and delayed reply chipping away at something you hadnât realised was so fragile. when you did see him in person, he seemed distracted, his attention split, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
the worst part was that he still laughed with you. still cared. just⌠less openly.
one afternoon, you caught sight of his wrist and your heart sank a little. the bracelet was gone.
you didnât ask about it. you just swallowed the feeling and smiled like everything was fine, even as felix rubbed absentmindedly at the bare skin there later that night, a hollow sensation blooming in his chest.
the tension finally snapped the night the boys invited you over. it was supposed to be casual. food, games, too much noise and not enough space. the kind of thing that usually felt like home. but felix barely looked at you.
he laughed at jokes that werenât yours, kept his answers short, his body angled away like he was trying to create distance on purpose. every time you caught his eye, he looked away first.
your patience wore thin. you waited until he stepped into the hallway to grab a drink, then followed him, heart pounding as you called his name softly.
âfelix.â he turned, expression already tense. âwhat?â
you hesitated, then took a breath. âdid i do something? youâve been really distant lately and i justâ if i upset you, i want to know.â
for a moment, he looked like he might crumble. his jaw clenched instead. âno,â he said, too fast. then, louder, âit's just... i have a girlfriend now, okay? i canât be there for you twenty-four seven.â
the words hit harder than you expected, a cold shock spreading through your chest.
you stared at him, searching his face for something, any emotion, but you didnât find anything.
âokay,â you said quietly, with a forced nod, âfine.â
you didnât wait for him to respond. you turned and walked away, grabbing your things, ignoring the way your hands shook. when the door closed behind you, the sound echoed painfully through the dorm.
felix stood there, staring at the empty hallway, heart racing.
the second you were gone, the anger drained out of him, leaving only a sick, sinking realisation in its place.
he thought heâd just done something he wouldnât be able to take back.
you went home, kicked off your shoes, sat on the edge of your bed and stared at the floor for a long time, replaying his words over and over until they lost shape and still somehow hurt just as much. you told yourself you were being dramatic, that this was what youâd agreed to the moment you decided to stay quiet about your feelings.
still, the ache lingered.
hours later, when the apartment was dark and your thoughts refused to settle, you reached for your phone. not to start a fight. not to demand anything. just to⌠make sure you hadnât imagined it all.
your fingers hovered over his name before you typed.
ÂŤ hey. i donât want things to be weird between us. Âť
you hit send.
the message stayed grey.
you frowned, waiting. refreshed the chat. tried again.
ÂŤ is everything okay? Âť
nothing.
a cold knot formed in your stomach, your pulse quickening with every second that passed. then you realised it.
you were blocked.
your breath left you in a shaky exhale. you laughed once, softly, like you couldnât quite believe it. âwow,â you whispered to no one.
embarrassment burned hot, followed quickly by anger. you wanted to march back to the dorm and scream at him, wanted to slap that stupid, apologetic look off his face that heâd probably wear if you ever confronted him. instead, you tossed your phone onto the bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling until the ache settled into something dull and heavy.
fine, you thought. if thatâs how he wants it.
back at the dorm, felix sat on his bed with his phone in his hands, screen lighting up his face every few seconds as he checked it again. and again.
nothing.
you hadnât texted. not once. no memes. no sarcastic comments. no got home safely! like you used to send without fail.
his chest tightened.
maybe you just need some space, he told himself.
but the days dragged on, stretching thin, and the silence grew louder with every passing minute.
the memory of your voice earlier replayed in his head, softer than heâd ever heard it.
did i do something?
guilt clawed at him.
he reached for his wrist without thinking, thumb brushing over bare skin where the bracelet used to be. the absence felt wrong, like heâd misplaced something important and only realised too late.
maybe you were upset. maybe you were hurt. maybe, his stomach twisted, maybe you just didnât care enough to reach out anymore.
the thought hurt more than he expected.
he unlocked his phone again, opening your chat, ready to type something, anything, to fix it. he stared at the empty space where your messages should have been, waiting for the familiar buzz that never came.
with a frustrated sigh, he set the phone face down on the bed and ran a hand through his hair.
you probably don't want anything to do with him anymore, he thought. the idea settling heavy in his chest.
and as he lay there in the quiet, felix realised with a sinking feeling that pushing you away had hurt a lot more than heâd ever meant it to.
weeks passed, each day blending into the next. felix threw himself into schedules, practices, anything that kept him busy enough not to think too hard about the quiet that followed him everywhere. he laughed when he was supposed to, smiled for cameras, nodded along to conversations, but it all felt hollow.
his girlfriend didnât notice. or maybe she didnât care. "we should go out again,â she said one afternoon, scrolling through her phone while sitting next to him. âsomewhere nice. people love couple content.â
felix hummed noncommittally. âiâm kinda tired. maybe we could just stay in?â
she looked up, visibly unimpressed. âstay in? felix, thatâs boring. youâre an idol, you canât just hide. i want people to see us.â
us, she said, but it never felt like it included him.
another time, as he poked at his food, appetite long gone, he tried again. âiâve just been feeling off lately,â he admitted quietly. âlike⌠not myself.â
she waved a hand, already losing interest. âyouâre overthinking. anyway, i was thinking we could do a couples shoot. itâd be great for my socials.â
his words dissolved in the air between them. whenever he talked about himself, about being tired, overwhelmed, lonely, sheâd redirect the conversation so fast it left his head spinning.
âyouâre so sensitive lately.â
âcan we not talk about this now?â
âwhy are you making this such a big deal?â
once, when he went on for more than a minute about missing the things he used to enjoy, she scoffed. âwhy do you always make everything about you?â
the words stuck with him. around the studio, the others noticed.
chan watched felix retreat into himself, shoulders hunched, smiles shorter. jeongin whispered to changbin one night about how quiet heâd gotten. even hyunjin frowned when felix flinched at a joke that wouldâve made him laugh before.
late one evening, the studio was unusually quiet, the kind of quiet that made thoughts too loud.
chan found felix curled into one end of the studio couch with his phone in his hands. he wasnât really scrolling, just staring at the screen like he expected it to change if he looked long enough. chan lingered in the doorway for a moment before speaking.
âhey,â he said gently. âi havenât seen y/n in a while.â
felixâs thumb paused. he didnât look up.
âhow is she?â chan continued, tone casual on the surface. then, more carefully, âhow are you?â
felix shrugged, the movement stiff, practiced. âi donât know.â
chan frowned, stepping closer. âyou donât know?â he echoed. âarenât you two talking anymore?â
felixâs grip tightened around his phone. your chat sat at the top of his screen, empty, silent, mocking him with weeks of nothing. no good mornings. no stupid videos. no did you eat yet?
nothing.
âi donât know,â he repeated, quieter this time.
chan raised his eyebrows, disbelief creeping in. âyou donât know how sheâs doing? felix, she used to be here all the time.â
felix swallowed, jaw tightening. he hated how small his voice felt when he spoke again. hated how much effort it took just to keep it steady.
âpeople drift,â he muttered.
it sounded like something heâd rehearsed. something heâd told himself over and over, hoping one day it would stop hurting.
chan crossed his arms. âsince when?â
silence stretched between them.
felix stared at his phone like it could save him, like if he kept his eyes down long enough, he wouldnât have to face what chan was really asking. his chest felt tight, lungs burning, the weight of everything pressing in at once.
he hated who heâd become. hated how quiet he was now. hated how empty his days felt. hated waking up and realising the person he wanted to tell everything to wasnât there anymore.
his life felt wrong. like he was living someone elseâs version of it, smiling for the wrong reasons, holding onto the wrong person.
âi have a girlfriend now,â he said finally, voice flat.
chan scoffed, the sound sharp in the quiet room. âyeah,â he said, shaking his head. âbut she was your best friend.â
was.
the word hit felix like a blow to the chest. something inside him cracked, breath stuttering as he pushed himself to his feet too quickly. he didnât trust himself to speak, not if he wanted to keep whatever composure he had left.
he grabbed his jacket, keys jingling in his trembling hand, and headed for the door.
âfelix,â chan called after him, concern threading his voice. âhey! where are you going?â felix didnât answer. he didnât turn around.
the door closed behind him with a soft but final click, leaving chan staring at the empty space and felix walking out into the night, heart pounding, the word was echoing in his head long after he was gone.
he was different around her. smaller. tense. nothing like the felix they knew. nothing like the felix heâd been with you.
you had always been his calm. the person who grounded him after exhausting days, who listened without judgment, who cared about the parts of him that existed far beyond the stage lights. with you, he never had to perform.
chanâs message came late at night.
ÂŤ hey. random question, but do you think we could meet up sometime? Âť
you stared at it for a moment, thumb hovering. you hadnât talked properly in a while, not to him, not to anyone from the group, really. still, chan had always been kind to you. safe.
ÂŤ yeah Âť
ÂŤ i could swing by the studio during my lunch break tomorrow, if that works. Âť
ÂŤ perfect Âť
the next day, the studio smelled familiar, it made your chest ache. you barely had time to set your bag down before chan was pulling you into a gentle hug, arms warm and steady around you.
âi missed having you around,â he said quietly. âgame nights arenât the same without you.â
you laughed, the sound lighter than you felt. âplease,â you teased, stepping back. âyou should consider yourself lucky. now you actually have a chance of winning instead of constantly losing to me.â
chan grinned widely.
inside, the joke twisted into something sharper. felix hadnât invited you once since everything happened. not a single text. not even a half-hearted âyou should come over.â the realisation stung more than you wanted to admit.
âguess iâm not welcome anymore,â you added lightly, like it was nothing.
chanâs gaze sharpened immediately, like heâd been waiting for that. âhey,â he said firmly, âyouâre always welcome. you know that.â
you shrugged, looking away. âi donât know. iâm not so sure a certain someone wants me there.â
chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. âseriously,â he said, voice soft but weighted, âwhat happened between the two of you? if you donât mind me asking.â
you shook your head at first, pressing your lips together. you didnât want to open that door. didnât want to say his name out loud. but chanâs expression which was genuinely worried, made your resolve crumble.
âi justâŚâ you exhaled slowly. âi didnât want to interfere with his happiness. he has someone now. i figured it was better to step back.â
chan scoffed, disbelief flickering across his face. "i think he misses you."
you let out a small, humourless laugh. âchan, he blocked me.â
that wiped the expression from his face entirely. âhe what?â chan asked, brows furrowing. âblocked you?â
you nodded, arms crossing instinctively. âyeah. weeks ago.â
chan fell silent, staring at you like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that suddenly didnât make sense anymore. something about this felt wrong. deeply, unmistakably wrong.
felix blocking you?
it didnât add up.
felix missed you. the longing grew heavier with every day, until it pressed down on his chest and made it hard to breathe. until one night, sitting alone in his room, he broke.
he needed you.
without thinking, he grabbed his phone and opened your chat, fingers already moving.
ÂŤ are you awake? i really need to talk. Âť
he hit send. nothing happened.
his stomach dropped. he tried again. refreshed the chat. checked his signal.
then he noticed. blocked.
panic surged through him. his hands trembled as he stared at the screen.
âno,â he whispered. âno, no, noâŚâ
you'd blocked him. that had to be it. the realisation felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. the thought of you wanting nothing to do with him, of cutting him off completely, hurt more than he thought possible.
his chest felt tight, vision blurring as he swiped through his phone, desperate for some kind of explanation.
he checked his settings. his blocked numbers.
yours was right there.
his breath stuttered to a halt. panic twisted into confusion, his mind racing as he stared at your number listed under blocked. his fingers hovered over the screen numbly, as the pieces slowly fell into place.
confusion hardened into something hot and sharp. rage.
the truth hit him all at once, heavy and unmistakable. his girlfriend had done this.
sheâd taken the one person he needed most and cut you out of his life without him even knowing.
felixâs hands curled into fists, heart pounding as anger surged through him. anger at her, at himself, at the way heâd let things go this far.
and for the first time in days, his next move felt painfully clear.
the moment the truth settled in his chest, he pulled out his phone and called her. she answered on the third ring, voice sweet, almost lazy.
âhey, babeâ"
âwe need to talk,â felix cut in. ânow.â
there was a pause. âwe could meet at that cafĂŠ nearâ"
âno,â he said, already grabbing his jacket. âno more public places. iâm coming over.â
he didnât give her time to argue. he ended the call and was out the door seconds later, moving on pure adrenaline. the drive blurred past him, streetlights streaking like lines of fire against the windshield as his thoughts spiraled.
you hadnât messaged him in weeks. not because you didnât care. not because youâd moved on. but because you couldnât.
the realisation made his jaw clench so hard it hurt. you mustâve thought heâd blocked you on purpose. mustâve believed heâd chosen someone else so easily, that heâd cut you out without a second thought.
he gripped the steering wheel tighter, anger and shame tangling painfully in his chest.
how didnât i notice?
how did i let this happen?
by the time he reached her place, his hands were shaking.
she opened the door with a smile, stepping forward like she expected a hug. felix walked right past her.
âdid you block her from my phone?â he demanded.
he didnât say your name. he didnât need to.
her shoulders dropped as she sighed, already bored of pretending. âyes,â she admitted easily. âi did.â
something in him snapped.
âshe was constantly texting you,â she continued, crossing her arms. âshe was demanding way too much from someone who has a girlfriend. you barely have time as it is, donât you think you should spend what little you have with me?â
every word felt like another knife. before he could respond, she stepped closer, fingers sliding around the back of his neck, trying to pull him down. âletâs not fight about this,â she murmured. âyouâre just stressedâ"
felix stepped back sharply, her hand dropping uselessly to her side. anger and frustration burned openly across his face, eyes bright with something close to fury. "weâre done,â he said.
her mouth fell open, but he was already turning away. he left without looking back.
he didnât remember the drive to your place. he just knew he was there, heart pounding, breath shallow as he knocked once, twice, a third time. then he called your name, voice breaking despite himself.
âplease,â he said softly through the door. âi know youâre home. just let me explain.â
inside, you froze. your heart slammed against your ribs, his voice sending a shock through your entire body. you stood there, staring at the door like it might disappear if you didnât look directly at it.
minutes passed. too many.
finally, you reached out and opened the door and let him in.
felix let out a shaky sound of relief, eyes wide and desperate as he saw you. without thinking, he stepped forward, arms already lifting, needing you close like he needed air.
you pushed him away. harder than you meant to, maybe, but you couldnât let him touch you.
the look on his face when you did was covered in hurt. he looked so devastated it made your chest ache.
but you held your ground, arms crossing over yourself as the space between you filled with everything that had been left unsaid.
felixâs breath was still uneven, chest rising and falling too fast from running up the stairs because he hadnât wanted to wait for the lift, not when every second without you felt unbearable.
âiâm sorry,â he said, voice rough, hands clenched at his sides like he didnât trust them not to reach for you again. âiâm so sorry. but i swear it wasnât me who blocked you. i didnât do it. i would neverâ"
âi donât care, felix.â
the words came out sharper than you meant them to. a lie. a blatant lie, because of course you cared. but the damage was done the second they left your mouth. he flinched like youâd struck him.
âi messed up,â he rushed on, desperation bleeding through every syllable. âi know i messed up. and i hurt you. iâm so sorâ"
âyou didnât just hurt me,â you exploded, the dam finally breaking. âyou abandoned me.â
his breath hitched, shoulders jerking like the word had physically slapped him.
âyou made me feel like i didnât matter to you at all!â
something snapped then. because for once in his life, felix couldnât stay calm. âthatâs bullshit and you know it,â he shot back, voice rising despite himself. âyou matter so fucking much to me.â
âyou say that,â you fired back, anger flooding your veins, âbut it certainly didnât feel that way!â
the air between you grew hot, heavy with everything youâd both swallowed for too long. your words spilled over each other, tangled and sharp, and felix raised his voice too. frustration, fear, and hurt crashing together.
âthen why didnât you just tell me how you felt?!â he demanded.
âbecause it wouldnât have mattered!â
âhow could it not matter?!â he snapped. âof course it would have!â
you laughed then, short and humourless, the sound bitter. âi was blocked, felix. even if i wanted to, i couldnât have reached out. besides, i thought you didnât want that.â
that stopped him. his jaw clenched, then unclenched, breath slowing as guilt settled deep in his chest. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, strained.
âyou couldâve told me how you felt before. before our first argument. or during.â
âtell you how i felt?â you scoffed, arms crossing tightly over your chest. âabout how jealous i was?!â
his voice softened immediately, confusion and something fragile threading through it.
âjealous?â
âof course i was jealous!â you shot back, even as your voice trembled.
his eyes widened slightly, disbelief washing over his features. âyou⌠were?" his voice was gentle now.
âgod, felix,â you said, the anger giving way to raw honesty. âyes, i was jealous. ever since you first told me about her. iâve been crushing on you for years. but i just didnât want to wreck what we had. i valued our friendship too much to ruin that. i thought iâd get over it. i thoughtâ"
you didnât get to finish. felix moved suddenly, like the decision had been burning inside him all along. his hands came up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kissed you. fierce, desperate, breath-stealing.
the kiss tasted like pent-up longing and apology and everything heâd never said out loud. it said iâve wanted this too without needing words.
you gasped against his mouth, fingers curling into his shirt, but he only deepened the kiss.
he pulled you closer before you could think, one hand sliding to your lower back, the other still warm against your cheek. it was messy and aching and full of too much feeling, like he was trying to tell you everything heâd failed to say with his mouth alone.
you felt it in the way his hands trembled, in the way he kissed you like he was afraid this might be the only chance heâd ever get.
you were the one who pulled away first. barely.
his lips chased yours for a second before he stopped, breath uneven, forehead dropping against yours as if that was the only thing keeping him upright. his fingers traced the sides of your waist, grounding, familiar.
âwhat are you doing, felix?â you whispered, voice shaking despite yourself.
âkissing you,â he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. his eyes were closed, forehead still resting against yours, breath warm on your skin.
âwhy?â you asked.
he opened his eyes then and looked at you, and something in his expression made your chest ache instantly. there was no confusion there anymore. just truth. raw and unguarded.
âbecause iâm a fucking idiot,â he said quietly. âbecause iâve been in love with you too. for so long.â
his voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. âi thought you didnât want me like that. so i tried to make myself not want you.â
he shook his head, almost laughing at himself, the sound breaking halfway through.
âbut i canât,â he admitted. âi never could. i want you so bad it hurts. it always did.â
his grip tightened slightly at your sides. âshe was just⌠a pathetic attempt to get me to stop hoping for something i thought would never happen.â
the words hit you one after another, impossible to ignore.
"iâve been miserable,â he continued, quieter now. ânot just because of her. but because i lost you.â
his eyes shone, tears threatening but not falling. âevery day felt wrong. like i was living someone elseâs life. i hated who i became. i hated waking up and realising the first person i wanted to talk to wasnât there anymore.â
you felt your own eyes burn. âi missed you,â he said, voice barely above a whisper. âso much it scared me.â
something in you finally broke. âiâve been miserable too,â you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. âi tried so hard to pretend i was fine. i told myself it was stupid to feel the way i did. that i was selfish for being jealous.â
your voice cracked. âi watched you drift away and i couldnât even be angry at you because i thought i was the problem. i thought you were happy."
you laughed softly, sounding broken. âevery day i told myself to get over it. to stop hoping. but it just⌠hurt more.â
felixâs expression crumpled.
âi thought losing you was what i deserved,â you whispered. âi thought that was the price for staying quiet."
he pulled you into his chest then, holding you tightly, like he was terrified you might slip away. his chin rested against your hair, his arms firm and warm around you.
âiâm so sorry,â he murmured. âi shouldâve fought harder. for you. for us. our friendship."
you clutched his shirt, breathing him in, heart pounding painfully but steadily now.
his arms were firm around you, protective, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in like he needed the reminder that you were really there.
âcan weâŚâ his voice came out soft, almost hesitant. âstart over?â
his breath tickled your skin as he shifted slightly. âor⌠start something new?â
your heart ached in the best way. you lifted a hand to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands before you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.
âwe can start whatever you want, lixie,â you whispered.
he let out a quiet breath that sounded suspiciously like relief, his shoulders finally loosening. he smiled softly against you.
he leaned in again, lips brushing against your skin as he kissed slowly up your jaw, over your cheek, lingering like he was savouring every second. when he reached your lips, he paused just long enough to murmur, voice barely there, âiâve always been yours.â
then he kissed you again.
this one was softer than before, unhurried, full of promise instead of desperation. his hand cupped your cheek, thumb warm against your skin, like he was grounding himself in the moment. you kissed him back just as gently, heart full and fragile and hopeful all at once.
summary: after everything you've been through with your abusive ex, life finally feels peaceful. healing isn't linear, but chan is there to help you through it all, good days and bad
genre: comfort! with a little bit of angst {~4.4k words}
warnings: trauma, chan being stressed and raising his voice without meaning to
this is part three of save haven and safe constant
healing doesn't feel like a breakthrough. it feels like waking up every day and choosing to fight.
most mornings started slow. you woke up tangled in chanâs sheets or your own, sunlight spilling softly through the curtains.
chan was usually already awake, watching you like he was making sure you were really here. when you noticed, heâd smile sheepishly and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, almost like an apology for staring.
days settled into a rhythm. therapy appointments. uni. long walks that ended at the studio or one of your places. sometimes you didnât even talk much, you just were, existing side by side in a way that felt safe.
at the studio, you either curled up on the couch with a blanket, or worked on your uni appointments while he worked. sometimes you just watched him, watched how focused he looked, how his brow furrowed when he was deep in thought.
every now and then, heâd glance back to check on you. âyou good?â heâd ask softly.
you always nodded. he'd grin sheepishly then, "good. then stop staring. you're making it hard to focus."
evenings were your favourite. soft lighting. quiet music. chan cooking while you sat at the counter, legs swinging slightly. heâd pass you little bites to taste, watching your reaction like it mattered more than the food itself.
touch came back slowly. a hand resting on your knee. a thumb brushing your knuckles. feather-light kisses pressed to your temple.
chan touched you like he was undoing something, like every gentle gesture was meant to replace a memory that never shouldâve existed.
and you let him.
you learned the sound of his breathing again. learned the warmth of his chest. learned that it was okay to lean into him, to take up space, to be held without fear.
some nights you talked for hours. other nights, silence wrapped around you both comfortably.
when you slept, it was usually with his arm around you, his heartbeat steady against your back. sometimes you woke in the middle of the night, panic flaring for no clear reason.
chan always noticed. his arm tightened instinctively, voice barely above a whisper. âiâve got you.â
and somehow, that was enough.
life wasnât perfect. some days were heavy. some moments still hurt. but slowly, peace crept back in.
you laughed more. you breathed easier. you began to trust your body again. and chan stayed. like a constant, in his own gentle way, unwavering.
one night, sleep wouldn't find you. the night stretched long and restless. youâd been turning over again and again, sheets tangling around your legs, breath never quite settling. you tried to stay still, tried not to wake him.
but chan noticed. he shifted closer, arm slipping around you, pulling you gently into his chest. your face pressed into the warmth there, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. one of his hands began tracing slow, sleepy circles on your back, grounding without effort.
âcanât sleep?â he murmured, voice soft with exhaustion. you sighed against him and nodded.
for a moment, he didnât say anything else. just held you. just breathed with you.
he asked quietly, âwhatâs on your mind?â the question broke something open. the words spilled out before you could stop them.
how scared you were. how the fear still lingered even on good days. how you worried youâd never be able to live a normal life again. one without looking over your shoulder, without bracing yourself for something bad to happen.
your voice wavered as you kept going. how you felt like too much sometimes. how you worried you were a burden. how you felt broken. not enough.
âespecially for you,â you whispered, the words barely audible. âsometimes i donât know why youâd want to deal with all of this.â
chanâs hand stilled. then he shifted, just enough to tilt your face up, his other hand coming to rest gently at your jaw. his eyes searched yours in the dim light, there was no sleepiness left in them now. only focus. only care.
âhey,â he said softly but firmly. âno. stop.â
you blinked, tears gathering. he shook his head slowly, thumb brushing beneath your eye.
âdonât ever talk about yourself like that,â he continued, voice steady but full of emotion. ânot to me.â you tried to look away, but he wouldnât let you.
âyou are not a burden,â chan said. âyou never have been. not once.â his forehead rested against yours.
âyou are enough,â he went on quietly. âfor me. for this world. and one day, when youâre ready, for yourself too.â your chest ached.
âyouâve been through things that wouldâve broken most people,â he said. âand youâre still here. youâre kind. youâre gentle. you still worry about everyone else even when youâre hurting.â
his voice softened even more. âdo you know how rare that is?â he kissed your forehead once. twice.
âyou donât need to be fearless,â he whispered. âyou donât need to be ânormal.â you just need to exist. and even on days where all you can do is breathe, thatâs enough.â his arm tightened around you, protective but gentle.
âi choose you,â he said simply. âevery version of you. the scared one. the healing one. the one who laughs. the one who cries at three in the morning.â
a tear slipped free and soaked into his shirt.
âyou donât have to earn my care,â chan murmured. âyou already have it.â
you melted into him then, body finally loosening, breath evening out as his hand resumed its slow circles on your back.
âiâve got you,â he whispered, voice barely louder than your thoughts. âalways.â
and he kept his promise.
it was one of those evenings where conversation flowed without effort, laughter came naturally. you sat together on the couch, legs tangled, chan talking about something trivial, some silly thing changbin had done earlier, the way he always exaggerated the punchline just to make you laugh. and you did. you laughed, leaning into him, fingers idly tracing shapes into his sleeve.
somewhere between his words, something inside you softened even more. you grew quiet without realising it. but chan noticed the stillness.
he kept talking for a few seconds longer, but his mind was already elsewhere, rewinding the last things heâd said, searching for a misstep, a wrong tone, anything that might have dimmed your smile.
when he couldnât take it anymore, he stopped. âhey,â he asked softly. âis everything okay?â
you looked up at him then, eyes warm, smile gentle.
âyeah,â you said. âjust⌠happy.â
the word hit him so hard his heart almost stumbled.
before he could stop himself, chan pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like instinct. he kissed you softly. you kissed him back just as gently, the moment stretching into something warm and unhurried.
it was just lips brushing, parting slightly, smiles against skin. quiet, tender kisses that felt more like reassurance than anything else.
when you finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, you exhaled a soft laugh. âactually,â you said quietly, âiâve been thinking about something.â
chan leaned back just enough to look at you, eyebrows lifting. âoh?â
you slipped out of his arms and stood, moving towards the small drawer by the door. chan watched you with quiet curiosity, heart beating faster for reasons he couldnât name.
you came back a moment later, holding something small in your palm. you placed it in his hand.
âitâs the spare key to my apartment,â you said softly. âi want you to have it, chan.â
for a second, he couldnât speak. he stared at the key like it might disappear if he blinked, like it was something absolutely sacred. something that carried far more weight than metal ever should.
âwhatâ?" he started, then stopped, swallowing hard.
something tight pulled at his chest, emotion rising so suddenly it stole his breath.
trust. love. choice. all wrapped into one quiet gesture.
chan stood and pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if grounding himself. he blinked rapidly, voice a litte unsteady when he spoke.
âthank you,â he whispered. âyou have no idea how much this means to me.â
he pulled back just enough to look at you, hands resting at your waist. "i promise iâll never use it without your permission. iâll never cross your boundaries. not ever.â his forehead rested against yours.
âiâm so grateful for you,â he murmured. âfor trusting me.â you smiled, pressing into him, and chan held you. and in that quiet moment, with the key resting warm in his palm, you both knew, this wasnât just the usual closeness. it was trust, chosen freely.
it hadnât just been one bad day. it had been a week.
the kind that settled into his bones and refused to leave, pressure stacking until his chest felt too tight to breathe properly. the company called constantly. deadlines, revisions, expectations piling on top of each other without pause.
sleep became optional. the studio lights stayed on long after midnight.
more than once, chan found himself staring at his phone at two in the morning, fingers hovering over your name. every time, guilt flared. he didnât want to disturb you, didnât want to drag you into his chaos.
but every time he texted anyway.
ÂŤ are you still awake? Âť
ÂŤ is it okay if i come over? Âť
your replies always came faster than he expected.
ÂŤ chan, itâs past midnight. why are you still at the studio? Âť
ÂŤ you know you have a key, right? Âť
ÂŤ thereâs leftover dinner on the stove. come home. Âť
home.
the word wrapped around him like a promise.
he remembered standing in the studio, phone pressed to his chest, the tightness in it easing just from reading your messages. how you never sounded annoyed. never overwhelmed. only worried for him.
you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. his schedule hadnât scared you away. the late nights hadnât driven you off. instead, you met him where he was in your caring and patient way, steady in a way he didnât know he needed.
you took care of him. and he loved you for it in a way that went deeper than words.
the week only got worse. calls from the company turned sharper. the pressure from above became relentless. even the members noticed.
âhyung, you should take a break,â seungmin said gently.
âcome eat with us,â hyunjin tried.
chan almost snapped at them. it wasn't that he was angry with them, just frustrated, fed up with being told to slow down when everything around him demanded the opposite.
when you arrived at the studio later that day, he was already frayed to the edge.
you stepped inside quietly, holding a small bag of snacks, eyes soft as they always were when you looked at him.
âhey,â you said gently. âi brought youâ"
âcan we not do this right now?â chan said sharply, eyes never leaving the laptop screen. "did the boys send you?" he groaned.
the tone was wrong. too loud. too harsh.
your breath caught. it felt like ice water down your spine. your body reacted instantly, shoulders pulling in, voice shrinking without you meaning it to.
âiâm sorry,â you whispered. âi just thoughtâ"
chan kept typing, jaw clenched, frustration still buzzing through him like static.
âI just need to finish this,â he snapped. âokay?â the words werenât cruel. but the tone was. and it terrified you.
your heart hammered painfully as your world narrowed, fear crawling up your throat. you stood there for a moment, frozen, before quietly stepping back. you didnât say another word.
chan realised it a second too late. the room felt wrong. too quiet.
âfuckâ no,â he muttered, finally looking up. âiâm sorry. i didnât mean toâ"
he spun around. you werenât there. panic hit him like a punch to the chest.
âshit,â he breathed, already pushing his chair back, standing abruptly, hands shaking as the realisation hit him all at once.
he had raised his voice.
at you.
he paced the room, heart racing, every worst fear clawing its way to the surface.
did i scare her?
did i trigger her?
did i just become the thing sheâs afraid of?
his phone was in his hand, but he hesitated.
running after you... would that overwhelm you?
would it make things worse?
he hated that he didnât know. hated himself even more for putting you in this position.
chan sank back into his chair, hands covering his face, breath uneven.
âiâm so sorry,â he murmured to the empty room.
he ran. out of the studio. down the hall. through the doors and into the street, scanning faces, shadows, corners, anything.
nothing. no sign of you.
his heart raced uncontrollably as memories surged uninvited. the night you disappeared, the fear, the phone on the ground, the waiting. but this time it was him who'd driven you away.
âfuck,â he whispered again, hands shaking as he turned in circles, searching desperately, pulling out his phone to messahe you.
ÂŤ please donât be scared of me. Âť
ÂŤ please donât run from me. Âť
he walked the streets, faster now, eyes darting everywhere, cursing himself under his breath with every step.
the worst part wasnât that heâd snapped. it was the thought that he might have sounded like someone else. and the idea that heâd become even a fraction of what you feared, terrified him more than anything.
the walk to your apartment felt endless. chanâs thoughts spiraled faster with every step, fear tightening around his chest until breathing hurt.
he replayed the moment over and over, the edge in his voice, the quiet apology you hadnât needed to give.
what if i scared her?
what if she thinks iâm angry at her?
what if she thinks iâm like him?
the thought made him feel sick.
when he reached your building, his hands were shaking. the key was heavy in his pocket. he didnât take it out.
instead, he raised his hand and knocked softly. carefully. like anything louder might shatter something.
âhey,â he called quietly through the door. âitâs me.âsilence. he swallowed hard.
âiâm not coming in,â he said quickly, voice gentl. âi just⌠i wanted to check on you. thatâs all.â
no answer. chan rested his forehead briefly against the door, eyes squeezed shut.
âiâm really sorry,â he murmured. âi didnât mean to raise my voice. i was stressed and i took it out in the wrong place. thatâs on me. not you.â his hand curled into a fist at his side.
âyou donât have to talk to me,â he added. âi just need to know youâre okay.â
still nothing. his chest tightened painfully.
âi wonât use the key,â he promised softly. âi wonât come in unless you ask me to. i justâ" his voice wavered. âi just donât want you to think i donât care.â
he waited. counted his breaths. counted thr seconds. nothing.
eventually, he stepped back. leaving felt wrong, but staying felt like pressure he didnât want to put on you.
âokay,â he said quietly. âiâm gonna go. but iâll be nearby. if you need me. anytime.â
he lingered for one last moment, hand hovering uselessly in the air. then he turned and left, cursing himself with every step down the stairs.
he tried to be patient... but that didnât last long.
by the time evening settled in, worry had eaten through him completely. calls unanswered, his messages weren't even read.
he stood outside your door again, heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
this time, his voice shook despite his effort to keep it calm.
âhey,â he said softly. âitâs me again. iâm sorry for coming back, i justâ" he exhaled slowly.
âiâm really worried about you. if youâre okay, could you just⌠text me? one word. anything. i just need to know.â
silence pressed in around him.
images crashed into his mind uninvited, flashing lights, police radios, your name shouted into phones.
his breath stuttered. âiâm gonna come in now,â he said carefully, loudly enough for you to hear. âiâm not coming near you. i swear. i just need to make sure youâre safe.â
his hand finally went to the key. the lock clicked and the door opened.
the apartment was dark. empty.
chanâs heart dropped straight through the floor. panic surged violently, his pulse roaring in his ears as he stepped inside, scanning every corner, every shadow.
before his thoughts could spiral further, his phone vibrated in his hand.
the vibration startled him so badly he nearly dropped his phone. chan froze, breath caught painfully in his throat as he stared at the screen.
your name.
his hands shook as he answered, the word tumbling out before he could stop it.
âheyâ" you said but he cut you right off, chest rising and falling too fast.
âwhere are you?â he asked, barely holding himself together.
there was a pause on the other end.
âIâm so sorry,â you said softly. âi didnât mean to ignore your calls or messages.â
the tension snapped. chanâs knees gave out, and he sank down onto your couch in the dark apartment, back pressed against the cushions as relief washed over him so violently it made him dizzy.
âare you okay?â he asked quickly. âare you safe?â
âyeah,â you replied. âiâm okay. i promise.â
he closed his eyes, forehead dropping forward as he breathed out a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob.
âthank god,â he whispered.
you explained how your therapist had time for you on short notice that afternoon. how youâd needed to ground yourself, to process what the snapping had stirred up. how you hadnât meant to disappear, hadnât realised how long it had been.
âi shouldâve told you,â you added quietly. âiâm sorry.â
âno,â chan said immediately, sitting up straighter. âdonât apologise. i should never have snapped at you.â
you cut him off gently. âchan, itâs okay. i know you didnât mean it. you were stressed. i shouldnât have reacted like that.â
his jaw tightened. âyou had every right to react,â he said firmly. âwhat you felt was real. and iâm so sorry i caused it.â
there was a small pause. âwhere are you now?â he asked, voice softening. âi just want to see you.â
âIâm⌠actually walking to the studio,â you admitted. âi wanted to come back to you."
his heart skipped.
âfunny thing,â he said quickly, laughing softly, already standing, keys in his hand. âi'm actually at your place. just come here? iâll meet you halfway.â
âyou donât have toâ"
âi want to,â he replied, already heading for the door. âiâm not hanging up until i see you.â
he moved faster with every step, eyes scanning the street, breath uneven but determined.
âwhere are you?â he asked.
âtwo blocks away,â you said.
chan slowed when he spotted you. you stood under a streetlight, one arm wrapped around yourself. he stopped a few steps away, forcing himself to keep distance, to let you decide.
you looked up, saw him, and smiled softly.
you stepped closer and poked his belly lightly, like you used to. âokay,â you said.
that was all it took.
chan crossed the space between you instantly, arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest. he held you tight but careful, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing slow, reassuring circles into your back.
âIâm so sorry,â he whispered into your hair. âiâm so, so sorry.â
you relaxed into him, fingers gripping his hoodie.
âItâs okay,â you murmured.
âIâm really proud of you,â he said softly. âfor taking care of yourself. for going to therapy. for coming back.â
he pressed a kiss to your temple, then another to your hair, holding you like he was afraid to let go.
and he didnât let go right away.
he stayed there with you, arms wrapped around your back, forehead resting against your temple, breathing you in like he needed the reminder that you're okay.
when he finally pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes were glassy, rimmed red with emotion he hadnât let himself feel yet.
âiâm really sorry,â he said again, voice a little unsteady. âabout earlier. about snapping. i never want to sound like that with you.â
you shook your head gently, lifting your hand to rest against his chest, right over his heart. âi didnât blame you,â you said softly. ânot for a second.â
his brows knit together, like he didnât quite believe that was allowed.
âyouâre allowed to have bad days,â you continued. âyou donât have to be okay all the time around me. you donât have to carry everything so carefully.â
chan swallowed hard.
âi know,â he said quietly. âbut that still doesnât justify it. i shouldnât have raised my voice. iâm⌠iâm so sorry.â his voice broke on the last word.
âi never want you to think iâm angry at you,â he whispered. âi canât be. i physically canât. itâs impossible.â he let out a shaky breath, shaking his head slightly like he was overwhelmed by the truth of it.
âyouâre everything,â he said. âand iâm so damn grateful for you. every day.â
your hand lifted then, fingers brushing his cheek gently, thumb resting just beneath his eye. the softness of the touch nearly undid him, emotion rushing through him so fast it made him dizzy.
he closed his eyes.
âi love you,â he whispered, like a confession, like a promise.
you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. âand i love you, chan,â you replied just as gently.
his eyes flew open. the smile that spread across his face was unguarded, and full of relief and devotion all at once. he leaned in without thinking, hands cradling your face as he kissed you beneath the soft glow of the street lamp.
the kiss was needy yet emotional. like he was pouring everything he couldnât say into it.
his lips moved against yours with quiet desperation, holding you close, grounding himself in the feel of you. you kissed him back just as earnestly, fingers curling into his hoodie, heart wide open.
when you finally pulled apart, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, the world felt softer again.
"wanna grab some dinner?" you asked softly and chan nodded.
by the time you reached the food place, the heaviness had lifted.
chan insisted on paying for you, squinting at the menu like it had personally wronged him.
âwhy are there twenty-seven options for the same thing,â he muttered.
you leaned into his side, amused. âitâs called variety, channie.â
he glanced down at you, deadpan. âitâs called stress.â
you laughed, the sound bright and easy, and chan visibly relaxed like heâd been waiting for that exact confirmation that the world hadnât ended.
when the food finally arrived, he carried everything despite you pointing out, repeatedly, that you had two perfectly functional hands.
âabsolutely not,â he said. âyou had a tough day. you can't be trusted carrying food containers around."
you poked his arm, laughing. âso rude, mister.â
you ate sitting on the curb, legs stretched out, sharing bites and stealing chips from each otherâs containers. chan pretended not to notice every time you reached over, until he dramatically gasped.
âdid you just steal my last fry?â
you blinked innocently. âno?â
he stared at the empty box. then at you. ââŚyou monster.â
you laughed so hard you nearly choked, and chan reached over instantly, patting your back with exaggerated seriousness.
âthis is why i canât leave you unsupervised,â he said solemnly. you wiped your eyes, still smiling. âyou'd be bored without me.â
he didnât even hesitate. âabsolutely.â
on the walk back, chan swung your joined hands lightly between you, humming under his breath. at some point, you caught him staring again.
âwhat?â you asked. he smiled softly. ânothing. just⌠happy.â he repeated your words from a few weeks ago. your heart did a little flip.
âsame,â you said.
when you reached your place, he waited like always, until you turned to him and tugged him inside yourself.
âyou know,â you said thoughtfully, kicking off your shoes, âfor someone who snapped earlier, youâre being suspiciously relaxed.â
chan gasped, offended. he immediately pulled you into a dramatic hug, squeezing just enough to make you squeak.
âthis,â he declared, âis called emotional compensation.â
you laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist. âiâll allow it.â
you ended up on the couch again, legs tangled, chan stealing your blanket and then pretending he hadnât. âchan.â
âwhat? you want to be under the blanket, you come iver here." he grinned wickedly. you sighed and leaned into him anyway. he kissed the top of your head, smiling to himself. and as chan pulled you closer, resting his cheek against your hair, you realised something quietly wonderful.
you werenât just healing anymore. you were happy. and this time, it felt real.
the teasing lingered that night. little comments thrown back and forth, soft smiles that stayed a second too long.
âyouâre doing that on purpose,â you said quietly when he continuously brushed over a specifically ticklish spot.
âdoing what?â he asked, far too innocent, continuing.
you tilted your head, eyes narrowing playfully. âthat.â
he smiled slowly, the kind of smile that made your stomach flip. âmaybe,â he admitted.
you reached out, pushing at his shoulder lightly. âmenace.â
chan laughed, and before you could pull your hand back, he caught it, fingers threading through yours, tugging you just a little closer.
âyou like me,â he murmured. you rolled your eyes, but you were already leaning in. âunfortunately.â
his thumb brushed over your knuckles, then up your wrist, touch slow and deliberate. the air between you felt charged, heavy with things neither of you were saying out loud.
âjust kiss me already,â he whispered. you didnât need to be told twice.
the kiss started gentle as always. lips brushing, testing, familiar in the best way. chanâs hand came to your waist, pulling you closer like it was the most natural thing in the world.
you sighed softly against him, melting into the kiss, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. the sound made him inhale sharply, like it went straight through him.
the kiss deepened, full of emotion bleeding into every movement. his other hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as if he needed to feel you, ground himself in the moment.
you kissed him back with the same need, the same reassurance.
âi missed this,â he murmured. you smiled softly. âme too.â
he kissed you again, slower this time, his hand traced comforting lines along your back, holding you close, never rushing, never taking more than you offered.
you stayed like that for a long moment. kissing. breathing. holding on.
and wrapped in each other, with laughter still lingering in the air and love humming quietly between you, everything felt right exactly as it was.
pairing: lee minho x reader (no pronouns mentioned)
summary: working with skz is a blessing, unless it comes to minho. you think he's arrogant, with his constant bickering and rude comments. but you don't let him irritate you. quite the contrary, you fight back, which only sharpens the tension between the two of you
genre: enemies to lovers! {~6.2k words}
warnings: lots of bantering, reader is a videographer, mentions of drinks, tension, there might be a little heated kissing scene at the end
you worked at jype long enough that the building felt less like a corporate maze and more like a second home. you knew which elevators were slow, which hallways echoed the most, which editing rooms had the best lighting at night. most people knew you, too, if not by name, then by reputation.
you were the video producer and videographer who always delivered. the one who stayed late without complaint, who caught details others missed, who somehow made even the most exhausting shoots feel lighter. you joked around easily, laughed loud, swore under your breath when equipment malfunctioned, and somehow still managed to be professional when it mattered.
especially with stray kids.
you were around them constantly. comeback teasers, behind-the-scenes content, vlogs, dance practices, music videos. it was inevitable that you got close.
chan trusted you, leaned over your shoulder to watch the shots and asked for your opinion like it actually mattered. changbin hyped you up whenever you showed him a cool cut, and felix brought you snacks during late edits like it was his personal mission to keep you alive.
they joked with you the same way they joked with each other. you gave it right back, quick comebacks flying without effort. it felt natural.
everyone liked you. well... almost everyone.
lee minho didnât. at least, that was how it felt.
you didnât notice it at first. you werenât exactly sensitive. working in this industry had given you thick skin, and you were used to sarcasm, teasing, people poking.
when minho first started making comments, you assumed it was just his version of humour. a dry remark here. a dismissive snort there. an offhand âare you sure that works?â delivered with raised eyebrows.
you laughed it off. fired back lightly. treated it like the same playful back and forth you shared with the others.
except⌠it didnât soften. if anything, it sharpened.
his comments came more often, aimed more directly at you. when you gave instructions, he questioned them.
when you praised a take, he shrugged it off. when you joked, he didnât laugh, he smirked. like he was always one step away from rolling his eyes.
and it started to piss you off.
you remembered the moment it really clicked. you were reviewing footage during a shoot, focused, crouched slightly in front of the monitor. you pointed something out, timing, framing, something small but important. minho leaned in just enough to invade the tiniest bit if your space and said, âyouâre really confident for someone behind a camera.â
something in you snapped.
you looked up at him slowly, met his eyes, and said, âand youâre really opinionated for someone whose group asked for my feedback five minutes ago.â
the room went quiet for half a second. then han laughed, while felix choked on air. chan cleared his throat like he was trying to reset the universe.
minho didnât say anything. he just stared at you, lips pressed together, eyes dark and his expression unreadable.
you thought that would be the end of it. it wasnât. from then on, it was war.
every shoot became a battlefield of sharp comments and quicker comebacks. he poked, you stabbed back. sometimes you left him momentarily speechless, and you hated how satisfying that felt. sometimes he managed to get under your skin so badly you had to look away, jaw tight, pretending you werenât affected.
and the worst part? he seemed to enjoy it.
youâd catch it sometimes, when you groaned in frustration, when you shot him a glare, when you muttered his name like it was a curse. the corner of his mouth would twitch just slightly. like heâd won something.
the others noticed, of course. how could they not? the tension followed you into rooms, crackled between you like static. felix and hyunjin liked to linger whenever you and minho were within five feet of each other, just to see what would happen. chan watched more carefully, eyes flicking between you, concern hidden behind easy smiles.
as for you, you told yourself you didnât give a damn. you told yourself minho was just irritating and arrogant.
you told yourself that whatever was happening between you was nothing more than mutual annoyance.
and if your heart kicked a little harder whenever he looked at you, eyes bright with challenge... well? you ignored that too.
minho noticed you the first day, telling himself you were just another staff member, another face in a building full of them.
except you werenât quiet, and you didnât shrink when you walked into a room full of idols and managers and expectations. you moved like you belonged there. like the space adjusted around you instead of the other way around.
he watched you from the corner of his eye during that first shoot. the way you crouched by the monitor, completely focused. the way you spoke, casual, certain, like you trusted your own instincts. when you laughed, it was unrestrained, and it pulled his attention without you even trying.
it annoyed him. the problem was that he liked you too fast. faster than he was comfortable with.
he caught himself listening for your voice, glancing over when you entered a room, noticing stupid things like the way you pushed your hair back when you were concentrating. it was inconvenient.
so he did what he always did when something made him feel off-balance. he pushed it away.
sarcasm was easier than sincerity. distance was safer than interest. if he treated you like an irritation, maybe the tight feeling in his chest would ease. maybe he wouldnât notice how naturally you fit in with the others. maybe he wouldnât care when you smiled at everyone but him.
except you didnât back down. that threw him.
you fired back without hesitation, eyes bright. you didnât soften your tone. you didnât get flustered. you met him head-on every single time, and somehow, that only made it worse... better? both.
every comeback you landed felt like a hit and a thrill all at once.
he lived for the moments he managed to get under your skin. the sighs. the eye rolls. the way you said his name like it tasted bad. he told himself it was victory, but it felt too warm in his chest to be that.
when you shut him down in front of everyone, he had gone quiet not because he had nothing to say, but because he had too much. something dangerous sat on his tongue then. something honest. he swallowed it down.
it was easier to be mean than to be vulnerable. easier to be your enemy than to risk wanting to be something else.
so he kept the wall up. sharpened his words. smirked when you glared at him. pretended he didnât notice how well you did your job, how everyone trusted you, how effortlessly you belonged.
because the truth was simple, and minho hated simple truths. he didnât dislike you. he liked you far too much.
working with minho was unavoidable. it wasnât like you could ask to be reassigned every time he was on the call sheet. he was in stray kids, and you were the video producer assigned to half their content.
so you did what professionals did. you showed up. you focused. you ignored the tension buzzing between you.
most of the time.
today's shoot was supposed to be simple. a performance-style video, clean lighting, minimal cuts. you stood behind the camera, headset resting loosely around your neck, eyes focused. the room was quiet except for the music and the soft sound of movement.
âthat was insane,â hyunjin said when the take ended, walking over to peek at the playback. he leaned closer to the screen, eyes wide. âno, seriously. the way that shot moved. this isnât just filming. itâs like⌠an art of its own.â
you blinked, surprised, then laughed softly. âdonât let the managers hear you say that, theyâll start raising expectations.â
hyunjin grinned. âiâm serious. you make us look unreal.â
minho stood a little farther back, towel draped around his neck, pretending to stretch. he didnât look at you, but his eyes flicked briefly to the monitor. the framing was perfect. the timing seamless. exactly how youâd envisioned it.
hyunjin was absolutely right, but heâd rather choke than say it out loud.
âpositions again,â you called, clapping once. âsame marks, but tighter on the turn.â
they reset. music started. you watched closely, tracking every movement, every angle. when minho turned, his body hit the mark perfecty, but his gaze didnât.
âcut.â the word echoed sharper than you intended.
âminho,â you said, keeping your tone even, professional. âeyes on the camera. after the turn. i told you.â
he sighed, long and dramatic, rolling his shoulders like the weight of the world had just been placed on them. âi know. i just donât like looking at whatâs behind the camera.â
there it was. that tone. way too casual, completely dismissive, and absolutely irritating.
you dragged a hand down your face. âyouâre insufferable.â
a few snickers sounded from the side.
minho tilted his head, lips curling slightly. âthatâs a strong word for someone who just yelled cut in the middle of a perfectly good take.â
âperfectly good?â you scoffed. âyou missed the most important part.â
âor,â he countered, stepping a little closer, âmaybe the camera should work harder to keep up with me.â
you laughed once. âoh, trust me. the cameraâs doing all the work perfectly here.â
his eyes flicked down to you, amused. âso harsh.â
âso forgetful,â you shot back. âshould i write my instructions down next time? maybe in a cute font?â
he leaned in just enough to be annoying. âas long as itâs legible.â
you met his gaze, unblinking. âas long as you actually follow them.â
for a moment, neither of you moved. the air felt thick, charged. then chan clapped his hands from across the room, far too cheerfully. âalright! letâs reset before someone gets murdered.â
you broke eye contact first, turning back to your camera. minho stepped away, jaw tight, smirk firmly in place.
behind the camera, you muttered under your breath. in front of it, minho smiled to himself.
because even if heâd never admit it, not to you, not to anyone, every time you called him out, every time you challenged him like that, it felt dangerously close to losing control.
a few nights later, you were barhopping with friends. it was the kind of night where time blurred softly around the edges. laughter spilled easily, conversations overlapped, drinks kept appearing in your hand before you remembered finishing the last one. the city felt alive, warm despite the late hour, music bleeding out of open doors as you moved from place to place.
you were mid-story, hands moving as you talked, when you spotted familiar faces near the entrance of the bar. chan and hyunjin.
your expression lit up instantly. you waved without thinking, arm raised high above the crowd. âhey!â
they noticed you a second later, chanâs smile breaking wide as he nudged hyunjin. they made their way over, weaving through people, greetings exchanged easily.
then you saw them. felix first, bright grin already forming when his eyes met yours. and behind him... minho.
your smile faltered for half a heartbeat. his did too. barely noticeable, but you caught it. his eyes flicked over you, took you in, then rolled skyward like heâd just walked into a minor inconvenience. you sighed.
felix hugged you without hesitation, squeezing tight. âfancy seeing you here!â
âi could say the same,â you laughed.
minho stopped just out of armâs reach. close enough to feel, far enough to avoid. no hug. no greeting. just a glance and a flat, unimpressed look.
âwow,â you said dryly. âhello to you too.â
"donât strain yourself,â he replied, deadpan.
your friends watched the exchange with immediate interest.
the group merged around a table, drinks rearranged, introductions made. everything flowed easily, except the space between you and minho, which felt deliberately charged. you were still standing in the same spot.
"the music is way too loud here." he said to chan. "maybe you're just getting old." you countered. he raised an eyebrow, shot back that at least he wasnât shouting over it. you smiled sweetly and suggested a hearing test.
the table grew quiet for a second. hyunjin pressed his lips together to suppress a grin. felix looked between you like he was watching a tennis match.
you were still standing in front of minho, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, delivering one sharp line after the other.
minho opened his mouth. then closed it. for a split second, he had nothing.
several people bit the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing.
your friend leaned closer to felix, voice low. âseriously, how do you bear that? are they like this when youâre working together as well?â
minho finally recovered, lips curling into a slow, dangerous smirk. his eyes met yours, dark with challenge. âyou done?â
âoh, iâm just getting started,â you said lightly.
before he could respond, chan stood up. the movement was calm, protective in that quiet way only he managed. he placed his hands on minhoâs shoulders and steered him gently but firmly away from you, to the other end of the table. âenough,â he murmured, voice low.
minho didnât fight it. he let himself be guided, jaw clenched, eyes flicking back to you once. the look he gave you wasnât playful.
you exhaled slowly and sat back down, forcing yourself to relax. you could still feel his gaze on you from across the table. when you looked up, he was already watching, one corner of his mouth lifted, eyebrows raised like he was daring you to say something.
you held his stare. neither of you backed down. chan broke the tension first. "alright,â he said, clapping his hands once. ânext roundâs on me.â
a collective cheer went up around the table. he moved easily through the crowd towards the bar after gathering orders. the moment stretching just enough for everyone else to breathe again.
the night softened after that.
conversations splintered and reformed naturally, people shifting seats, leaning closer, voices lowering as the bar grew louder. laughte came easier now. stories were shared, some ridiculous, some nostalgic. drinks kept arriving, glasses clinking, ice melting slowly as time slipped past unnoticed.
you found yourself talking with felix for a while, listening to him animatedly describe something that had gone wrong during practice earlier that week. hyunjin drifted in and out, dramatic as ever, describing parts of the story with exaggerated gestures.
across the table, minho was deep in conversation with chan, posture relaxed now, one arm slung over the back of his chair. he looked different like this. looser. less guarded. peaceful. you hated that you noticed that, that you couldn't seem to look away.
âyou know,â you said to felix, raising your glass slightly, âif he put half as much effort into following directions as he does into complainingâ"
âi can hear you,â minho cut in without looking at you. you smiled sweetly. âgood. then i donât have to repeat myself.â felix choked on his drink, while chan sighed into his glass.
the conversations shifted again. this time you were leaning close to one of your friends, voices low, talking about work frustrations.
âat least youâre good at what you do,â your friend said. âpeople notice that.â
âsome people,â you replied pointedly.
âoh, i notice,â minho said from somewhere behind you. âitâs just⌠hard not to be distracted.â
you turned slowly. âby what, exactly?â
he met your eyes, unbothered. âthe constant talking.â
you scoffed. âfunny. i was thinking the same about you.â
hyunjin slapped a hand over his mouth. âwill this ever stop?â he whispered to chan.
time passed like that, full of half-finished conversations and overlapping laughter. sometimes you were laughing so hard your cheeks hurt. sometimes you found yourself staring into your glass, listening to someone talk about things that mattered a little too much.
and every now and then, without fail, you and minho collided again. a comment overheard. a remark thrown over a shoulder. a glance followed by a sharp reply.
âare you always this loud?â he asked at one point.
âonly when people are being particularly irritating,â you shot back.
he hummed thoughtfully. âmust be exhausting for you, then.â
you raised your glass in mock salute. âi manage.â
despite yourself, you were smiling. he noticed. you noticed that he noticed.
the edge between you dulled, just slightly, softened by alcohol and the hum of the night. the hostility didnât disappear, but it shifted, less defensive, more charged. like the banter wasnât just a weapon anymore, but something else neither of you wanted to name.
eventually, people started checking their phones, glancing at the time. some said their goodbyes, hugging, promising to meet again soon. the bar felt quieter now, the crowd thinning, the music less intrusive.
you leaned back in your chair, stretching slightly, exhaustion settling into your bones. the night had been long. full. minho watched you from across the table.
eventually, you decided it was time. your head was light in that way that told you one more drink would be a bad idea. you pushed your chair back and stood, smoothing your jacket down as you scanned the table. minho wasnât there, bathroom, you assumed, and you took the opportunity without hesitation.
quick hugs followed. felix pouted dramatically, whining about you leaving already. hyunjin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, mumbling something about looking forward to tomorrow. chan pulled you into a warm hug.
âtext when you got home safe,â he said quietly.
âwill do,â you replied, smiling.
you turned towards the entrance, weaving through the pub, already mentally halfway out the door.
you made it only a few steps. minho appeared in front of you like a bad habit.
you stopped short, blinking once before regaining yourself.
âbye, meanho,â you said smoothly as you passed him in the middle of the bar.
âthank god youâre leaving,â he replied instantly, eyebrows raised.
you turned around, walking backwards for a step just to face him. âyouâre welcome. youâre the main reason for it.â
he let out an exaggerated breath, hand pressing to his chest. âam i really? i feel honoured!â
âno,â you said flatly. then added, âbut in case you forgot, we have a video shooting tomorrow.â
his face fell immediately. âdamn.â
you snorted, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. the expression was worth it. you turned again, intent on finally escaping.
âhey,â he said suddenly. you paused despite yourself, glancing back. âwhat.â
âis your taxi there yet?â
âiâm walking.â
his expression shifted just slightly. eyebrows knitting together before he smoothed it out, like heâd caught himself doing something he didnât mean to.
âshould you be walking alone this late at night?â
your eyebrows shot up. âyes. donât worry, iâm perfectly capable of doing that, minho.â
he clicked his tongue, unimpressed. âi wouldnât be so sure of your capability, but good luck.â
you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. âgoodnight.â
you didnât wait for a response. you turned and pushed through the door, the noise of the pub fading behind you as cool night air hit your skin.
inside, minho stood there for a moment longer than necessary, watching the door swing shut.
minho walked back to the table slowly.
it was only chan, hyunjin and felix left now. they leaned in towards each other in quiet conversation. laughter drifted between them, the kind that came at the end of a long night. minho took an empty seat without a word. he didnât join in.
his gaze fixed on the table in front of him, eyes unfocused, mind somewhere else entirely. the faint ring left by a glass. a scratch in the wood. anything but the door youâd just walked through.
âyou okay?â hyunjin asked after a moment.
the question cut through the fog, snapping minho back to reality. he blinked, lifted his head. âyeah.â
he pushed his chair back abruptly. âiâll be right back.â
before any of them could respond, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and headed for the exit.nthe door swung shut behind him.
the three of them stared after him for a second. then felix grinned. âwhat were your bets again?â he asked, voice low but amused.
chan shook his head, already resigned. âbefore the next comeback.â
âend of the year. you?â hyunjin added confidently.
felixâs grin widened, eyes sparkling. âbefore christmas,â he said. âlooks like my chances of winning are getting higher.â
outside, the night air was cool. minho pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the screen as he opened maps. he knew which apartment complex you lived in. he just needed to figure out which direction you would have gone.
after a brief glance, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and started down the street, pace quickening as he went.
youâd always liked walking home at night. the streets felt different then, softer around the edges. the city hummed instead of roared. you passed restaurants with warm light spilling onto the pavement, voices drifting out in laughter. it usually always felt safe.
so when you felt a presence behind you, you didnât panic at first. âshouldnât be walking around alone at night.â
you spun around, heart jumping despite yourself. recognition followed quickly. an acquaintance. a friend of a friend. someone youâd run into a handful of times before, always in passing. he stood just outside a bar, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air.
âgod, you scared me,â you said, exhaling. he laughed, holding his hands up. âdidnât mean to. saw you and figured iâd say hi.â
you talked for a minute. small things. you mentioned being out with friends, named a few people he recognised. he pretended to be offended you hadnât invited him, grin a little too wide, laugh lingering a second too long.
then he stepped closer. you shifted back instinctively, the unease settling in your stomach. he didnât take the hint.
âlet me get you a drink,â he said. âor i can walk you home. my place is close too.â
âiâm good,â you replied, forcing a polite smile. âreally.â
his hand brushed your arm lightly. you stepped back again. âheyâ stop it.â
he didnât.
he moved closer instead, crowding your space, the smell of smoke thick now. âiâve always thought you were so goddamn beautiful,â he murmured, arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you in.
panic flared sharp and sudden. you tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, stronger than you expected. âlet go,â you said, voice firmer now. âi mean it.â
âjagi?â the voice came from behind you. the arm around you disappeared immediately.
âthere you are,â minho continued, stepping into view. relief hit so fast it almost made you dizzy. he moved to your side without hesitation, arm wrapping around you in a way that was protective and sure. practiced, even.
it should have felt wrong. but it didnât.
the guy raised his hands quickly, backing off. âohâ shit, man. sorry. didnât know there was a boyfriend involved.â
minho didnât look at him. ânow you do.â
the guy muttered another apology and disappeared back into the bar.
the silence afterward felt loud. minho dropped his arm almost immediately, stepping back like heâd crossed a line. âsorry,â he said, quieter now.
you shook your head, still catching your breath. âno. thank you.â
he nodded once, jaw tight, eyes scanning the street like he was checking for threats that were already gone.
then you looked at him properly. âwhat are you doing here?â
he hesitated, then reached into his pocket and held up a scarf. âyou forgot this.â
you frowned. âthatâs not mine.â
âoh,â he said, far too casually. âone of your friendsâ, maybe?â
you both knew it wasnât. it was felix's.
before you could argue, he waved down a passing taxi. it pulled over quickly.
ânow,â he said, opening the door, âyou better take the fast way home. video shooting tomorrow, remember?â
you sighed, exhaustion washing over you. you didnât have the energy to fight him on this. âfine.â
as you slid into the back seat, you looked back at him. âthank you. really.â
he shrugged like it was nothing. you huffed a tired laugh. "just don't be insufferable about saving me."
minho grinned, "no promises.â
he tapped on the driverâs window, leaned in long enough to give your address, then paid in cash before you could protest.
the door closed and the taxi pulled away.
minho stood there on the sidewalk, watching until the car disappeared from view, heart still pounding harder than he liked to admit.
the next day felt heavier than it should have. your head still ached faintly, not from the alcohol but from everything else. the memory of last night lingered in flashes. the arm around your shoulders, the way his voice had cut through the fear, the quiet concern heâd tried so hard to hide.
so you decided to try something different. when you arrived on set, you greeted everyone like usual, coffee in hand, clipboard tucked under your arm. when minho walked in a few minutes later, hair still damp, expression neutral, you didnât brace yourself. you smiled.
âmorning,â you said with a voice that sounded too sweetly. âthanks for yesterday.â
his steps slowed. he looked at you like youâd just spoken a different language. âfor what.â
âyou know,â you replied, softer than usual. âthe taxi.â
a beat passed. then his lips curved, âwow,â he said. âare you sick or something?â
you blinked. âwhat?â
âyouâre being weird,â he continued, eyes narrowing slightly. âwhereâs the attitude? did i finally scare it out of you?â
there it was. you let out a quiet breath. ânever fucking mind.â
so much for being nice to him today.
during the first take, you were focused, tracking the movement, fingers adjusting settings by instinct. halfway through, his voice cut in.
âare you sure this angleâs right?â he called, loud enough for the room to hear. âor should i look away again so you can yell cut?â
a few heads turned. you ignored him, jaw tight. âkeep going.â
the music resumed. you counted the beats under your breath. just as the formation shifted, âwow,â minho muttered, noticing you were just off-mark. âguess weâre improvising now.â
your fingers slipped. âcut,â you said sharply.
reset. again.
you repositioned the camera, double-checking marks youâd already gone over. âsame thing,â you reminded them. âeyes forward on the turn.â
minho met your gaze, eyes bright with something unreadable. âyes, boss.â the word grated.
the take started. this time, he did look at the camera, but exaggeratedly, chin tilted, stare almost mocking. it ruined the mood of the shot completely. ruined the vision you had.
you closed your eyes for half a second. âcut.â
a sigh echoed through the room. minho stretched his arms above his head lazily. âwhat now?â
âwhat now,â you repeated flatly. âyou know exactly what.â
he shrugged. âjust following instructions.â
âdonât play dumb.â
âiâm not,â he said lightly. âyou just seem a little⌠distracted today.â heat crawled up your neck.
the shoot dragged on. every take felt like walking through a minefield. comments slipped in under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. timing remarks. exaggerated reactions. a raised eyebrow every time you corrected something.
once, as you adjusted focus, he leaned towards felix, whispering something.
you snapped your head up. âfocus, minho.â he smiled. âyou first.â
something in your chest tightened painfully. this wasnât the usual back and forth. this was deliberate. pointed. like he was trying to push you until you broke. and slowly, you did.
your concentration shattered piece by piece. you missed cues you never missed. your patience wore thin. the room felt too loud, every movement scraping against your nerves.
finally, after another ruined take, after another unnecessary comment, you lowered the camera and exhaled hard.
âlunch break,â you said, voice cutting through the noise. the room stilled. chan looked at you in surprise. âalready?â
âyeah,â you replied, not looking at anyone in particular. âweâll resume after.â
people filed out, murmurs filling the space as the tension followed them out the door.
you stayed where you were, hands braced on the equipment, breathing slowly. behind you, you felt him. minho didnât leave.
the door clicked shut behind the last person. the silence was suffocating.
you straightened slowly, turning to face him. âare you done?â minho scoffed. âwith what?"
âwith whatever this is,â you shot back, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. âbecause if youâre trying to sabotage the shoot, congratulations. youâre doing great.â
his jaw tightened. âdonât flatter yourself. i donât want you to mess things up.â
you laughed. âright. because you were being so cooperative today.â
âyou were the one calling cut every five seconds.â
âbecause you wouldnât stop running your mouth.â
he stepped closer. âmaybe if you werenât so distractedâ"
âdonât,â you snapped. âdonât you dare put this on me.â
his eyes flashed. âwhy not? youâre the professional, right? the golden producer everyone loves?â
there it was. you crossed your arms, mirroring him without realising it. âwhat is that supposed to mean?"
he shrugged, careless. âjust funny how patient you are with everyone else.â
your laugh this time was bitter. âare you serious right now?â
âam i wrong?â he pressed. âchan messes up, you smile. hyunjin misses a mark, you laugh it off. felix breathes wrong and youâre telling him itâs okay.â
you stared at him. âyou want a medal for noticing basic human decency?â
his voice rose. âor maybe you just donât bother hiding how much you prefer them.â
the words landed heavy. you stepped closer now, heat rushing through you. âi tried to be nice to you today.â
he blinked. âwhat.â
âi tried,â you repeated, sharper. âi thanked you. i didnât bite back. i gave you space. and you saw that and decided to make it worse.â
âbecause it was fake,â he shot back immediately. âyou donât do nice. not with me.â
âmaybe because you make it impossible,â you snapped. âyou push and push and then act surprised when i push back.â
âyou enjoy it,â he said. âdonât pretend you donât.â
âoh, screw you.â
âhit a nerve?â he asked, stepping even closer. âyou light up when you argue with me. youâd be bored without it.â
your heart was pounding now, anger and something else tangling together painfully. âyou are so unbelievably full of yourself.â
âand you hate that i see through you.â
you laughed breathlessly. âsee through what? that iâm tired of you acting like an asshole for no reason?â
âthere is a reason,â he snapped.
âthen say it,â you challenged. âfor once, say it instead of hiding behind your shitty comments.â
his hands curled into fists at his sides. âyou wouldnât like it.â
âtry me.â
the air between you felt charged, electric, like one wrong move would set everything off. you were standing too close now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that his breath brushed your face when he spoke.
âyou get under my skin,â he said, voice low and tight. âyou always have.â
you swallowed, refusing to step back. âcongratulations. join the club.â
âyou think this is easy for me?â he scoffed. âwatching you laugh with everyone else like iâm nothing?â
your chest tightened. âthen stop treating me like iâm the problem.â
his eyes searched yours, dark and intense.
the room felt too small. the tension too thick. every breath felt like a challenge, every second stretched tight and dangerous.
you clenched your jaw, voice shaking despite yourself. âi canât fucking stand you, minho.â
and something in his expression finally snapped.
the moment the words left your mouth, something in him broke. minho moved before you could react.
one second you were glaring at each other, breath heavy, the next his hands were on you, firm and urgent, pinning you back against the wall with a force that stole the air from your lungs. the impact rattled through you. not painful, just overwhelming. his body was close, heat everywhere, nowhere to escape even if you wanted to.
then he kissed you. hard. unforgiving. like heâd been holding back for far too long and finally gave up trying. it was neither careful nor questioning. it was claiming.
his mouth crashed against yours with all the anger and want and frustration tangled between you, like he already knew youâd kiss him back.
and you did. your hands shot up to his shirt without thinking, fingers curling into the fabric, gripping tight like you needed the anchor. the kiss was messy, teeth knocking, breaths breaking apart as if neither of you knew how to slow down. it tasted like everything youâd never said out loud.
he pulled back just enough to breathe, chest rising and falling fast. âsay that again,â he whispered, voice rough, barely holding together.
your heart was pounding so hard it hurt. your lips tingled. you should have pushed him away. you didnât.
âi canât fucking stand you,â you breathed. something dark and satisfied flickered across his face.
âgood,â he murmured. then he kissed you again.
rougher this time. deeper. like he was trying to prove something, like he needed you to feel it as much as he did. his hand slid to your jaw, thumb pressing just enough to tilt your head back, his mouth fitting against yours like it had always belonged there.
âi canât stand you either,â he muttered between kisses, the words swallowed by the way his lips kept finding yours.
there was just heat and tension and everything youâd buried under insults finally spilling over. the world narrowed to the press of his body, the sound of your breathing, the way his grip tightened like he needed you to know you were already his. always have been.
the kiss became messier, more reckless, the argument still humming under your skin even as his lips traced along your jaw, hands roaming where they shouldn't. but neither of you could stop yourselves.
you breathed out a shaky laugh against him. âyou really get on my last nerve.â
âyeah?â he murmured, already kissing down your neck, teeth grazing skin just enough to make you shiver, hand grabbing your hair to hold you in place. âyouâre insufferable.â he murmured.
you tilted your head back despite yourself, fingers fisting in his shirt. âyou keep saying that.â
he hummed against your skin. âbecause itâs true.â
âif iâm so insufferable,â you whispered, breath unsteady, âthen keep your lips away from me.â
his movements stilled. then his hand closed around your neck, not tight, but firm enough to demand your attention, thumb pressing under your jaw as he forced you to look at him. his eyes were dark, blown wide with want and frustration, mouth already parted like he hated the distance between you.
âdonât you think i would,â he said quietly, voice rough, âif i fucking could?â
his lips crashed back on yours. harder. deeper. like he was proving his own point, like the words had only pushed him further. your back pressed into the wall, his body fitting against yours like it had always known where to be. your hands slid up into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth. his hips bucked once, making you feel him. you moaned softly, and minho was about to lose it, right there in the shooting room.
the door opened. footsteps. "hyung?" a familiar voice called. luckily, you were tucked around the corner, shielded.
minho pulled away immediately, breath coming fast, jaw clenched so tightly, like it physically hurt to stop. you were both breathing hard, faces flushed.
you dragged a hand through your hair, trying to undo the damage his fingers had done, smoothing it back as best you could. your lips were swollen. your pulse was everywhere.
he watched you as you stepped away, eyes following you like he hadnât quite accepted that you were no longer pressed against him.
you walked back towards your equipment, hands busy, anything to look normal. minho followed without hesitation, not caring how disheveled he looked, hair mussed.
jeongin stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, eyes flicking between the two of you far too quickly. trying to piece the picture together.
âuhâ chan asked me to go check where you were,â he said.
âgive me five,â minho muttered, irritation sharp in his voice. jeongin nodded once and practically bolted.
the room fell quiet again, though not empty.
âwill you get dinner with me tonight?â minho asked, suddenly softer, like the fight had burned itself out and left something raw behind.
âabsolutely not,â you replied immediately.
his eyebrows shot up, smirk already pulling at his mouth.
âyou want me to say please?â he asked. you bit back a grin and failed. âperhaps i do.â
he stepped closer again, slower this time. his hand found your hair once more, gentler now, tilting your head so you had no choice but to look at him. his lips hovered just over yours, close enough to feel his breath.
âplease?â he whispered.
then he kissed you, almost teasing, like a promise instead of a demand.
you exhaled. âonly if you behave for the rest of the shooting session.â
he let out a breathy laugh, âfine. iâll try to be good. if thatâs what it takes.â his kiss deepened. like the argument was over. (for now)
