⍣ ೋ cw: Terminal illness, character death, anticipatory grief, hospital setting, references to emotional regret, and depictions of silent mourning. Please read with care.
notes: this was requested! i know i've said that i wouldn't write character death but the requestor asked for "heart wrenching angst" and this was the saddest thing i could think of.
“It’s okay, baby. You can rest now.”
You hear him before you feel him. His voice, warm and low, breaking at the edges. Then the slow, familiar weight of his hand curling around yours. Calloused, trembling.
The machines are quieter now. The room, too. The nurses had whispered something about giving you both privacy, and then they were gone. Just the steady beeping. Just him.
Chan.
You can’t open your eyes. Haven’t been able to for a while now. But you feel him. Every breath. Every word.
He leans in, presses his forehead to yours. And even though you can’t see it, you know he’s crying.
“You’ve fought so hard, baby,” he murmurs, like it hurts him to say it. “So damn hard. I’m so proud of you.”
You want to squeeze his hand. Tell him you’re sorry. That you didn’t want this either.
But your fingers don’t move.
“You don’t have to keep fighting,” he says, voice cracking. “You’ve given me everything. I’m so grateful. Just—just rest now, okay? It’s okay to go.”
A pause. Then—
“God,” he chokes, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.”
His lips brush your knuckles.
“I don’t know how to be without you.”
The words land heavy. Like bricks. Like grief already settling in his lungs before you’re even gone.
“What do I do?” he whispers. “You were supposed to be here. At the end of every tour. Every stupid award show. Every night I needed someone to remind me who the hell I am.”
You feel it—his hand clutching tighter. His voice rising just a little.
“Please, don’t go. Not yet. Just—just give me one more day. One more hour. One more smile baby, please.”
His forehead presses harder against yours, like he’s trying to fuse you together. Like if he just holds you close enough, he can stop time. Reverse it. Rewrite it.
But there’s no miracle this time.
No comeback.
No more time.
“I thought I had more,” he says, voice so quiet it’s nearly a breath. “More days. More ways to show you I loved you.”
You can hear him trying to hold it together. Swallowing the sobs. The gasps. The panic.
“I was gonna propose, you know?” he confesses, with a shaky little laugh that sounds like it's breaking open his chest. “Bought the ring months ago. Just… kept waiting for the right moment.”
His thumb brushes along your knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. Gentle. Steady. Like a habit he doesn't know how to break.
“Fucking idiot,” he whispers, not to you—but to himself.
Another breath. It catches somewhere in his chest.
“You would've said yes, right?” he asks, quieter now. “You would've stayed.”
There's no answer. Just the soft hum of the machines beside you. The slow, dragging rhythm of a heartbeat that’s starting to slip between the seconds.
Chan presses a kiss to your temple, and his lips linger there. Motionless.
“I hope you felt loved,” he says. “Even when I was gone. Even when I didn’t say it.”
The monitor stutters. Once.
Then again.
And then—flatlines.
No dramatic alarms. No panicked rush of nurses. Just the sound fading out. The weight of your body going still in his arms.
His hand stays wrapped around yours.
For a moment, he doesn’t move.
Doesn’t blink.
He just breathes in shallow, uneven pulls—like he’s afraid to exhale. Like letting go of that one breath might mean letting go of you completely.
And then his shoulders fall.
No sound.
Just that.
He lowers his head against your pillow, cheek resting beside yours. Eyes squeezed shut. Tears slipping soundlessly down his face, soaking into the same sheets that still hold your warmth.
His fingers keep holding yours, even though your hand is slack now.
Even though you're gone.
And in the quiet that follows, he doesn’t break. Not all at once.
𐙚 ˚Plot - YN returns to Seoul after three years, leaving behind her boyfriend for a work project, and finally gets transferred back just before Christmas. Excited to reunite, she decides to move into her boyfriend’s place, only to discover it isn’t his house at all. To make matters worse, she learns her Christmas gifts have been going to the wrong address all along—leading to an unexpected twist.
𐙚 ˚Genre - Angst, Hurt, Healing,Comedy, Fluff
𐙚 ˚Warnings - Hurt, betrayal, breakup, neighbor au, non Idol au, healing, comfort, Strangers to lovers
𐙚 ˚Word count - 8.7 K 𐙚 ˚ Screenshot Count - 2
𐙚 ˚A/N - Ahh! I'm so excited to share the first episode of Staymas! Dive into this fun mix of Christmas gifts, neighborly banter, and the spark of something deeper. This is just Slight proofread. So apologies for any mistakes 🙂↕️
𐙚 ˚SKZ Masterlist 𐙚 ˚Staymas Masterlist
It was a quiet winter afternoon in Seoul. The capital city, once blanketed in snow just weeks ago, had now settled into the crisp, dry embrace of December air.
The crunch of the remaining snow under your boots brought you back to the present as you stepped out of the taxi. You were home. After three years of relentless overtime, endless meetings, and the nonstop pace of Tokyo, you were finally back in Seoul. Back to the city you had always called home.
Your overseas transfer to Tokyo had been your first project as a lead. While life in Tokyo matched the speed and intensity of Seoul, you missed your home; and, more than anything, you missed your boyfriend, Chris Han.
You had just started dating Chris four years ago after a chance meeting at a club. He had been everything you could hope for: caring, attentive, and loving.
But things took a turn when you mentioned your transfer, barely a year into your relationship. He resisted the idea vehemently, arguing that long-distance relationships never worked. But this was your dream project, and you were determined.
Reluctantly, he agreed, and you left with tears in your eyes, clinging to the hope that distance would strengthen your bond.
At first, it did. Video calls became your lifeline, and you were grateful for his support despite the miles between you. Each Christmas, you went out of your way to send him thoughtful gifts: hand-knit sweaters, heartfelt letters, and cookies you baked yourself. You imagined him opening them, smiling, and feeling less alone.
But as time passed, the calls became less frequent, and the distance began to weigh on you. Yet, your heart remained steadfast, filled with love for Chris. Now that you were back, you couldn't wait to celebrate your first Christmas together in years.
Standing in front of the apartment building, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing nerves. You had gone to great lengths to make this moment a reality, even renting an apartment in the same building as his, though he had no idea yet. This was meant to be a surprise, something special that would bring you closer in a way he wouldn’t expect.
Unbeknownst to him, you'd taken the opportunity to secure a place in the very same building, arranging everything during a video call with the tenant. You had even wired some advance money to her, securing the apartment without him ever suspecting a thing.
The elevator doors opened on your desired floor, and you stepped out, the faint hum of the building filling the quiet space around you. The tenant, the one you had finalized everything with, was waiting for you to complete the paperwork.
She smiled warmly, gesturing for you to come inside. As you hesitated in the hallway, your eyes darted nervously around, scanning for any familiar faces. You didn’t want to risk your boyfriend finding out about your arrival just yet, so you made sure to move cautiously, stepping inside and out of sight, ready to finalize this surprise and begin a new chapter.
You signed the last documents, handed over the remaining deposit, and took the keys to your new home. The apartment, though sparse, felt cozy and warm, just as it had seemed in the calls. After a quick shower, you put on the sweater Chris had once gifted you, applied light makeup, and prepared for the moment you’d been waiting for.
Clutching a box of homemade chocolate chip cookies, your heart pounded as you approached apartment 504- Chris's place. Smoothing your scarf, you knocked on the door, excitement bubbling inside you.
You pictured the scene perfectly: Chris opening the door, stunned, before pulling you into his arms with a cheesy line like, "I can't believe you're mine forever now." The two of you would share cookies, cuddle, and watch movies like you used to. It was the perfect surprise.
But when the door opened, it wasn’t Chris who greeted you....
“Uh, hi?” The man at the door blinked at you, clearly confused. He was tall, with soft, dark hair that framed his strikingly sharp features. He looked effortlessly attractive, dressed in casual sweatpants and a hoodie, as if he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot.
You froze, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation.
“Is Chris here?” you asked hesitantly.
The man tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah… Who’s asking?”
“I’m Y/N, his girlfriend,” you replied nervously. “He lives here, right? Apartment 504?”
The man blinked at you, his confusion deepening. “M-My girlfriend? Sorry, but… do I know you?”
Your stomach tightened in a knot as you stared at him. Maybe Chris Han hadn’t told his friends about your relationship. Or maybe this guy was some distant relative visiting. But wait, he said “My girlfriend?” That didn’t make any sense, you thought. Chris Han was your boyfriend, not this stranger standing in front of you with a perplexed look on his face.
The silence between you both was deafening as you locked eyes. You couldn’t help but admire his features again. This guy was effortlessly handsome in a way that felt almost unfair. His eyes glinted with amusement as he studied you just as you did him. His skin, with a warm golden undertone, glowed faintly in the soft light spilling from the apartment. His jawline was sharp and defined, like a sculptor’s dream, and his high cheekbones gave his face an almost regal quality.
The air hung thick, suffocating in its silence. Yet, you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, just as he couldn’t from you. It felt like something needed to break the tension before you’d be trapped in this awkward loop forever.
“Yo, Chris?” a voice called from inside. “What’s got you so caught up?”
The stranger snapped out of his thoughts and suddenly burst into laughter. Embarrassed by the situation, you stepped back, ready to leave.
“Wait, wait,” he said, holding up a hand to stop you. “You think I’m your boyfriend?” He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not. I’m Chris Bang. And unless I’ve somehow gotten into a relationship I didn’t know about, I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”
Your cheeks burned red with embarrassment. “What?! But… this is apartment 504! Doesn’t Chris live here?”
“Yeah,” Chris Bang said, nodding. “That’s me. Chris Bang. Single. Not your boyfriend.”
The realization hit you like a freight train. “Oh my god,” you mumbled, backing away. “I… this is so...this is a mistake. I’m so sorry!”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Chris called after you, laughing as you turned to flee. “Don’t run away yet! I want to know how this happened. Did you just knock on the wrong door, or did your boyfriend ghost you and give you my address instead?”
You whipped back around, glaring at him. “He did not ghost me! I—” You froze in confusion. Wait. If this wasn’t Chris Han’s apartment, then where…?
Chris Bang watched as the realization painfully dawned on you. “Wait… are you the new neighbor who moved into apartment 404?”
“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice filled with regret. “Apparently, across from you.”
“Well, this is going to be fun,” Chris said, clearly enjoying your humiliation. Before you could respond, the elevator dinged down the hall, and a door opened just a floor above yours. Stepping out of apartment 604 was Chris Han—your boyfriend.
A wave of relief washed over your face. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach again as you watched him approach the elevator. “Babe!” you called out, waving, while simultaneously giving your new namesake neighbor an apology. Chris Bang just smiled and waved it off, closing the door behind him.
“Chris, babe!” you called again, louder this time. At the sound of your voice, Chris Han looked down, his eyes widening in surprise as they landed on you.
“Y/N?” Chris Han called out, his voice thick with confusion. His steps were hesitant as he descended the stairs toward you.
“Chris, babe, surprise!” Your smile widened as he stepped closer to you. You opened your arms, eager to embrace him, hoping he’d pull you into his warm, comforting hug. But he didn’t. Instead of the excitement you’d expected, his gaze remained distant—cold, even. “You’re here?” he asked, his voice stiff. “When did you come back?”
“Just this morning! I wanted to surprise you!” you chirped, trying to break the palpable tension. “And guess what? I even rented an apartment here. So we’re neighbors now!” You pointed toward your apartment door with a nervous smile. “Maybe just a floor apart,” you added, awkwardly scratching your head.
“You rented… an apartment? Here?” Chris’s voice was flat, lacking the warmth you had expected.
“Yeah,” you said softly, feeling your heart sink. “I missed you, Chris. Three years is a long time, and I thought… Well, I thought it was time for us to be close again.”
“And this thought occurred to you… after three years?” Chris’s gaze was sharp, colder than you had ever seen it, and it hit you like a physical blow to the chest.
“Well, the project finally wrapped up, and now I’m back...to you. Won’t you welcome me?” Though your voice lacked some of the earlier enthusiasm, there was still hope in your words.
“You know what? Let’s talk inside.” Chris sighed heavily. “It doesn’t feel right to say this in a public space.” Nodding, you followed him upstairs, your chest tightening with each step.
You stepped into Chris’s apartment, quickly glancing around. The place was neat, but it felt cold, uninviting. It wasn’t the home you had envisioned for the two of you. It looked more like a temporary crash pad than a place filled with warmth and love. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration in sight, not even with Christmas Eve just two days away. The only decoration was a solitary string of fairy lights on a corner shelf.
“Oh, you didn’t decorate for Christmas?” you asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. Chris shrugged. “Haven’t had the time. Last-minute work before the holidays has been crazy.”
“Maybe we can decorate it together?” you suggested, forcing a smile.
Chris let out a long, weary sigh before turning back to you. “Look, Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, but it didn’t feel right to say it over the phone. Now that you’re here, I think it’s best we just move on.” He paused. “From us.”
You stared at him, stunned. “So… you’re breaking up with me? Two days before our anniversary? After three years of making it work long distance?” Your voice cracked with rage as you glared at him.
He hesitated again, his voice soft but sharp, like daggers to your heart. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry, but I think… maybe we’ve been holding on to something that’s not really there anymore. I’m sorry, but… this… us… it can’t work anymore.”
The ground beneath you shook violently as you absorbed the words spilling from Chris’s mouth. Everything you had planned, everything you had believed, crumbled in an instant. After a long stretch of silence, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding back.
Chris stared at you, uncertain, hesitant about what to say next.
"I thought you loved me..." you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Chris stood before you, his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet your eyes. The silence between you was suffocating, each second stretching endlessly.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” he finally said, his voice low and thick with regret. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
You stood there, frozen in place, the words echoing in your mind like a cruel mockery. The sting of betrayal tightened in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your hands clenched at your sides as you fought back the tears threatening to spill.
Finally, a bitter laugh escaped your lips, cold and sharp like shattered glass. “Thank you, Chris. Thank you for ruining everything.” Your voice broke, and your chest ached from the weight of your own words. You took a shaky step back, your vision blurring.
You added, with venom laced in your tone, “Merry fucking Christmas.”
Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back toward your apartment. As you passed Chris Bang’s door, it suddenly opened, startling you. He looked at you with an expression mixed with concern and curiosity.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer this time.
You didn’t answer. Instead, you pushed past him and into your own apartment. The warmth that had once filled the space now felt distant, as if the walls were closing in on you. The contrast between how it had felt just an hour ago and the suffocating coldness now was striking. Closing the door behind you, you sank to the floor, beside the doorframe, tears streaming down your face.
Two days later, it was Christmas Eve. You hadn’t yet moved on from that painful conversation with Chris. Determined to fix things, you decided to meet him later. One awkward conversation wasn’t going to be the end of everything. Maybe you could work through it. Maybe everything would be okay after this.
You hit send on the message, asking him to meet you at 8 in the evening at his favorite restaurant. He agreed, and you smiled at your phone, slipping it back into your pocket.
Since you were meeting him at 8,three hours after your shift ended, you decided to treat yourself to a little coffee at the cozy cafe beside your new apartment. It wasn’t long before you were settled inside, the warmth inside a welcome contrast to the biting winter wind outside. Ordering a cappuccino, you took a seat by the window, sipping your drink as you stared out at the wind-whipped scene.
Not long after, something caught your eye. Across the cafe, a familiar silhouette of a man and a woman sat at a table just a little farther away. You squinted, just to be sure.
And there he was—Chris Han—feeding an unknown woman a piece of cake. The woman, with long brown hair, blushed and laughed at something Chris must have said. They looked so comfortable with each other, so intimate, and Chris smiled at her with the same warmth he used to smile at you three years ago. And then they kissed.
Kissed ?!!
A sharp pang of betrayal struck your gut. Your mouth hung open in shock. Rage boiled inside you, and before you could stop it, your legs carried you over to their table.
"So this is why you decided to move on, huh?" you called, standing at the edge of their table.
"Y/N?!" Chris exclaimed, clearly caught off guard. "What are you doing here?"
"Me?" you scoffed. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’m just waiting to meet my boyfriend after his shift to fix things."
"And look what I find! He’s here all along, kissing and feeding cake to another woman, like the past three years meant nothing to you." Your voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Chris, who is this?" The woman looked awkwardly between the two of you.
Chris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, now’s not the time."
"Not the time?" you trembled. "So, this is why you said ‘it’s not going to work,’ is it?"
"You were cheating on me all along, and now that I’m back, you’re too scared to admit it. So, you fake this 'it’s not going to work' nonsense!"
"This is the reason I told you long-distance doesn’t work for me, Y/N. But you didn’t listen to me back then!" Chris shot back.
"Our relationship meant nothing to you, did it? I was just a fool, believing our love was still alive!" you spat bitterly.
Chris sighed again, looking at you with something that resembled pity. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but… I’ve moved on. " " I told you my answer remains the same"
"Unbelievable!" you blinked back tears, refusing to let him see you cry. "I hope she’s worth it," you said coldly, turning on your heel and storming out of the cafe.
You clung to your jacket as you waited for the elevator, feeling the weight of the evening pressing on you. It was uncomfortably cold in the lobby. Maybe it was because of what had just happened—that the warmth and hope you once carried for a fresh start had been snuffed out, leaving you broken and alone.
Just as you were about to step into the elevator, a voice called out, "Hey, wait for me!" You looked up to see Chris Bang rushing toward the elevator. Quickly, you wedged your hand between the doors to stop them from closing as he hopped in.
"Thank you," he panted, taking deep breaths to steady himself after running. You nodded, acknowledging him silently. You just wanted to be alone, but the elevator seemed to take forever to reach your floor. The tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill as you replayed everything that had happened. Was it your fault? Could you have prevented it? If you hadn’t taken on the new project, if you hadn’t been transferred… maybe this wouldn’t have happened...
These thoughts clouded your mind as the elevator slowly ascended. When it finally reached your floor, you stepped out, your head still in a daze.
"YN, is it?" Chris suddenly asked. You nodded, barely meeting his gaze.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
You realized you must look like a mess,your mascara smudged, your hair disheveled, your eyes red from holding back tears. You sighed and gave a shaky laugh. "Not really."
Chris tilted his head, his sharp features softening. "Wanna talk about it? I’ve got cookies, and I promise I don’t feed cake to random people in cafes." He smiled, his warmth surprising you.
You blinked, taken aback. How did he know? But he wasn’t teasing you. There was no smug grin or sarcastic quip, just sincerity.
"Cookies?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.
Chris smiled, a soft, lopsided grin that felt genuine. "Yeah, cookies. And hot chocolate. The perfect cure for whatever mess you just walked away from."
If this had happened on any other day, you would’ve brushed him off and retreated to your apartment to cry in solitude. But something about the warmth in Chris's expression, the absence of judgment, just pure sincerity, made you pause and truly look at him. Maybe it was because it was Christmas Eve, or maybe it was the way his dark oceanic eyes and his sincere smile spread warmth inside you. You sighed, quickly wiping your eyes. "You know what? Sure. Why not."
You motioned for him to lead the way as he opened the door to his apartment. Reluctantly, you stepped inside after he gestured you in. Despite your lingering embarrassment, curiosity got the better of you as you glanced around.
The apartment was cozy, though not overly decorated. It was minimalist at best. A single gray couch sat in the living room, with two plush cushions resting on it. In front of it was a wooden coffee table with what looked like an empty mug of coffee. Yet there was a festive vibe in the room: small fairy lights twinkled around the window and shelves, and a medium-sized Christmas tree stood in the corner, neatly decorated with baubles and stockings. It felt inviting, almost like home.
You awkwardly sank into the gray couch and waited for him, as Chris disappeared behind the kitchen counter for a few moments, telling you to make yourself comfortable.
The scent of vanilla and chocolate soon filled your nostrils, making your stomach rumble. You hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast; the last-minute workload had kept you too busy. Save for a couple of sips of cappuccino at the café, you hadn’t had solid food all day. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until Chris placed a plate of cookies and a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. Your mouth watered at the sight.
"There you go, YN," Chris smiled, handing you the cup of hot chocolate he’d made. "Please, help yourself."
"Thank you," you muttered, taking a sip. The sweetness of the hot chocolate melted away the bitterness in your heart, filling you with warmth. “Hmm, it’s so good,” you sighed in satisfaction.
“It sure is,” Chris hummed, settling beside you on the couch.
"So..." Chris leaned back, studying you carefully. "If you’re comfortable sharing... is it boyfriend trouble, or...?"
"More like ex-boyfriend trouble now," you interjected, a bitter laugh escaping your lips.
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.
"Actually, we met four years ago. A year later, I had to leave Seoul for a project in Tokyo. I had to lead a new company project."
"He didn’t want to do long distance. It led to a lot of disagreements, but somehow, we agreed to give it a shot. But when I came back two days ago, he didn’t seem too happy about it." You paused. "He told me it wasn’t working anymore..." You looked away, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. "I thought our love could withstand the distance, but I guess I was wrong."
"And today, you saw him with someone else, right?" Chris asked gently.
You whipped your head back toward him, stunned. "H..How’d you know?"
"It’s the only café in the neighborhood. I was there for my daily coffee and happened to witness it," he said, glancing at you with an apologetic look. "I’m sorry if I intruded on your space."
Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but somehow, you still wanted to keep talking. "Yeah, that’s how I became single on Christmas Eve," you said wistfully, a small smile forming on your lips.
"That’s rough. I’m so sorry," Chris winced.
"Yeah, I was an idiot for holding onto it for three years," you said with a bittersweet smile. "Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the transfer. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe we wouldn’t have broken up..."
"YN," Chris said softly, turning you to face him. "Look at me."
You met his eyes, and he continued, "I know, for what it’s worth, that it’s not your fault. That Chris Han... he can go screw himself for letting go of someone like you."
His words caught you off guard. "Now, aren’t you going a little too far ahead of yourself?" you replied with a half-laugh, half-smile. "You barely know me, Mister. How can you say that?"
"I know for a fact, YN," he said, his voice calm and sincere. "I know how much you loved him, and how unappreciative he was. I know he didn’t care about you." "For what it’s worth, from my two cents as your new neighbor, I believe you deserve so much better. Way more, YN," Chris smiled at you.
"How do you know, for a 'fact'that I loved him?" you asked, half-smiling, half-curious.
"Because of all the love you poured into those gifts you sent..." he smirked.
"Gifts?" you asked, confused.
Chris nervously scratched his head, realizing he may have said more than he intended. You raised an eyebrow, and that’s when it clicked.
"Don’t tell me..." you gasped.
"Promise me you won’t be mad, YN?" Chris smiled sheepishly.
You gave him a stern look as he got up and pulled a cardboard box from the cupboard. Inside were neatly wrapped packages with handmade bows, festive papers, and labels that read: "To Chris, Merry Christmas Love, YN."
You stared at him, stunned. "Chris Bang! Why?" you glared at him. "You promised me you wouldn’t be mad!" he nervously chuckled.
"How can I not be mad when you’re literally stealing my ex’s gifts?" you protested. "For the past three years, you’ve been stealing them, and you didn’t even think to check if they were yours or not!"
He just silently stared at you, nonchalantly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. His boyish grin didn’t help either. In fact, it made this bizarre turn even harder to comprehend.
"Let me get this straight," you said, holding onto the edge of the couch to steady yourself as you leaned back. "You’re telling me that for the past three years, you’ve been getting the Christmas presents I meant to send to my ex? And instead of, I don’t know, returning them, you just... kept them?"
Chris rubbed the back of his neck, his expression somewhere between amused and sheepish. "I mean, technically, yeah. But in my defense, your handwriting on the shipping label was pretty bad. It just said ‘Chris,’ no last name, and my address."
Your mouth hung open. "Now you’re blaming my handwriting for this?"
"Not entirely," he admitted, his grin widening. "I figured it out eventually, probably by the second gift. But by then... well, I didn’t have the heart to send them back. Plus, they were really thoughtful gifts. And I thought, hey, maybe the universe just wanted me to have them."
You gaped at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant amusement. "The universe wanted you to have my ex’s gifts?"
"Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty creepy," he laughed lightly. "But come on....who wouldn’t keep the presents? It’s Christmas!"
"Unbelievable," you scoffed. "Maybe this is the reason Chris Han broke up with me... He didn’t get my special handmade gifts, thanks to a certain gift thief..."
Chris laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Hey, don’t be too mad. You kind of made my Christmases a lot less lonely. I mean, who wouldn’t love surprise presents from a stranger? It’s like I had a secret admirer."
"I wasn’t your admirer, Chris," you snapped back, your face flushed with embarrassment.
"Well, technically, you were, even if you didn’t intend to," he chuckled. "But seriously, thank you for the gifts every year, YN. The handmade cookies, the blue scarf, the mugs, and that beautiful coat you sent really made me feel at home. I wore them all winter and used the mug every day."
"Don’t tell me you read the letters too..." you groaned, burying your face in your hands.
"I did, YN," he said softly. "And they just gave me a sense of fulfillment, a sense of not being alone... like someone was with me."
"Thank you for making my Christmases unintentionally," he added with a huge grin, his eyes shining. A smile so sincere it made your stomach do flips, and your cheeks turn a shade of red you couldn’t explain. What was happening to you? It was too early to be swooning over a guy you just met. Or maybe it was because his hand brushed against you for a second?
"And even if you think that gifting those things to Chris Han would’ve made things better," Chris continued, looking at you seriously, "I believe you’ve got a lot to learn before dating guys who cheat behind your back."
"Backstabbers will always be the same, YN. Even if you think they’ve changed, they won’t."
At his sincere confession, you looked at him, realizing he was right. Chris Han was an utter POS.
You laughed, genuinely, and even surprised yourself. "Oh, and I suppose you think you set the bar higher?"
He grinned, leaning back and resting his arm on the back of the couch. "I mean, I’ve been told I’m a decent neighbor."
You rolled your eyes. "Yep, a decent neighbor who steals other people’s gifts” you smirk
"Flattery won't save you, you know..." you laughed, your voice light but teasing.
"Wasn't trying to save myself either," he replied, leaning back casually against the couch with a carefree smile. "Just telling the truth."
You busied yourself nibbling on another cookie, pretending to focus on the snack while trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Okay, Chris," you said, your lips quirking into a small but genuine smile, the playful banter making you feel oddly at ease.
Suddenly, an idea popped into your head, making your smile widen mischievously. "As an apology, why don't you bake me these delicious cookies and hot chocolate every day until New Year's?" you suggested, raising an eyebrow, your voice playful yet sincere.
"Sounds like a deal, YN," he replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling.
"But before that," you added, a hint of mischief in your voice, "how about you close your eyes for just a couple of seconds?" You could see the flicker of curiosity in his expression, and you couldn't help but smile.
Chris raised an eyebrow. "Now, if you're trying to kidnap or murder me, I can, you know..." you said, throwing a couple of playful air punches in the air as you chuckled, enjoying the light-hearted moment.
"Wasn't tryin' to do that, but thanks for telling me anyway," he laughed, shaking his head, clearly entertained by your antics.
Something soft was placed in your hand, and after a brief moment of waiting, you slowly opened your eyes. To your surprise, there was a small gift bag resting in your palm. You raised an eyebrow, your mind racing with confusion and curiosity.
"You're returning the wrong Chris' gifts?" you asked him, half-joking, half-puzzled.
A smirk curled onto his lips as he leaned forward slightly. "More like giving you one," he replied, his voice filled with a touch of mystery.
Just as you were about to respond, the clock in the room struck twelve with a soft chime, followed by the cheerful cuckoo bird popping out and singing its song. The atmosphere felt like it belonged in a holiday movie, warm and comforting.
"Merry Christmas, YN," Chris grinned at you, his smile wide and sincere.
"Merry Christmas, Chris," you replied with a smile that felt more real than anything you'd said in a while. It was a moment that you wanted to hold onto, even if it was fleeting.
"And what's this?" you asked, nodding toward the gift bag, still trying to figure out the meaning behind it.
"This?" He held it up between his hands, looking down at it with a gentle expression. "This one’s for you."
Your brows furrowed in confusion as you took a closer look at the bag. "For me? Why?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.
"I figured out two days ago that you're the one who's been sending me the gifts for the past three years..." He paused for a second, his eyes softening, as though the weight of the moment was sinking in.
"Consider it my way of saying thank you—for three years of accidentally making my Christmases a lot less lonely," he said, his tone sincere but tinged with something that made your heart ache slightly.
"Lonely?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the word lingering in the air. This was the second time he had mentioned his loneliness in the conversation, and it made you wonder about the deeper layers of his feelings.
For just a fraction of a second, his smile faltered, and you noticed his gaze shift as if lost in thought. The change was so brief, but you could tell there was something he wasn’t saying.
"Australia is my real home," he said quietly, his voice distant. "And I'm settled in Seoul now for work. I miss my family, my sister, my brother, and my dog, Berry, so much. Christmas is when I miss them the most, but it is what it is..." His words trailed off, and there was an unspoken weight behind them, something raw that he hadn’t fully expressed.
Your chest tightened unexpectedly. There was something in his tone, something guarded, like he didn't want to reveal too much. You didn’t press, giving him the space he needed, and the silence between you both was comforting, almost as if you both understood what the other was feeling.
Wanting to change the subject and give him a bit of relief, you spoke softly, "Okay, let’s see what you’ve got."
He handed over the bag, and as your fingers brushed briefly against his, you ignored the flicker of warmth that spread up your arm. You focused on the bag in your hands, pulling out the tissue paper with careful movements. When you revealed the contents, your breath caught in your throat: it was a beautiful bag in your favorite color - blush pink. The sight of it made your heart skip a beat.
"Chris, how do you know?" you asked in surprise, your voice a mix of awe and wonder.
He shrugged casually, his grin widening. "I may have done some detective work," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "One of your letters mentioned the bag color," he added with a wink. "Thought it might mean something to you..."
You stared at the bag, your fingers gently brushing over the smooth, polished handle. It was a stunning blush pink crossbody bag, perfectly suited for going out to dinner nights or for the holidays. It was exactly the type of bag you’d been admiring for months, and yet, you’d never mentioned it to him.
Of all the gifts you’d sent in the past three years, none had ever felt this thoughtful or this personal. It was as if he truly understood you in a way you hadn't even realized.
"Wow," you murmured, your voice a little breathless. You looked up at him, your smile widening with genuine appreciation. "That’s... actually really beautiful and sweet."
A wide grin spread across his face as he leaned back a little, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Sweet enough to make up for the whole 'stealing your ex’s gifts’ thing?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with teasing amusement.
You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Not even close," you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "But it’s a start."
As the night continued, you felt the weight in your chest slowly lighten. You weren't ready to move on yet, but sitting there, sharing cookies and banter with your neighbor Chris, felt like a step in the right direction. The conversation flowed effortlessly from there, transitioning from light teasing to stories about each other’s lives. Chris had a way of making you laugh, even when you felt like crying. By the time you left his apartment, you realized you were looking forward to seeing him again, something you hadn't expected just a few days ago.
The days following Christmas blurred into a whirlwind of family gatherings, catching up on work, and the bittersweet calm that often followed the holiday rush. Yet amidst the festive cheer and the soft lull of post-holiday routine, there was a lingering ache—the heartbreak Chris Han had left behind. It was a quiet, constant presence, one that refused to be ignored despite your attempts to distract yourself. Happy couples strolling hand in hand, cheerful holiday music playing in every store, and glowing lights in every window served as unwelcome reminders of what you had lost.
But then there was Chris Bang, your accidental neighbor and self-proclaimed Christmas gift stealer. Against all odds, he became the unintentional solace you hadn’t realized you needed. He had a knack for showing up at just the right time: bumping into you in the hallway with a witty comment about your landlord’s questionable taste in decorations or surprising you with coffee and cookies when your day felt particularly heavy. "Caffeine and cookies cure everything," he’d say with that mischievous grin that never failed to draw a reluctant smile from you.
One day, when you were especially weighed down by the sight of happy couples and the ache in your chest seemed heavier than ever, Chris knocked on your door, insisting you come with him to the fair. At first, you refused, wrapped in your own melancholy, but his persistence wore you down. And so, hours later, you found yourself laughing in the crisp winter air, your hands full of hot cocoa as Chris tried, and failed,repeatedly to win you a plush teddy bear from a claw machine. You teased him mercilessly for his lack of skill, and his mock frustration only made you laugh harder. The ache in your chest lightened, and for the first time in days, you felt like yourself again.
He never left your side, even as work got busier and the New Year dawned. Whether it was a simple message, a casual phone call, or a surprise invitation to take a walk in the park when the sun came out, he made sure to check in, offering little moments of comfort when you needed it most.
With time, you learned more about the man who had unexpectedly found his way into your life. He told you about growing up in Australia, how Seoul had never been part of his plan until his online friends Jisung and Changbin lured him here with the promise of his dream job as a music producer, so he moved across the world. How he had an impressive art collection from his best friend Hyunjin, an artist he was incredibly proud of, and how he’d used the holidays to stay in and unwind from a stressful year. He’d been surprisingly open, sharing details of his life that he usually kept close to his chest.
For your part, you had shared a lot with Chris, your work, your best friends (who were instantly curious about him), and how your parents had been gently pushing you to settle down, despite the fact that you were struggling to imagine your life on anyone else’s timeline. You were beginning to realize how much you enjoyed these quiet, meaningful conversations with him, especially considering how effortlessly everything seemed to flow. Even the things you thought might make you feel vulnerable, you found yourself talking about with surprising ease.
Chris, in turn, had opened up more about his family life. He talked about the playful dynamic he shared with his sister, how they loved to tease each other and how he cherished the annual trips back home to visit. He shared stories about his dog, Berry, whom he missed dearly. There were other little details too, how much he had been adapting to life in Seoul and the adjustment from his home in Australia. Each time he shared something new, you found yourself appreciating him more, and the more you learned about him, the deeper your connection seemed to grow.
You shared your hesitations, your dreams, and the small quirks that made you who you were. It felt natural, easy, even the things that had once felt like guarded secrets seemed safe with him.
And Chris listened, truly listened. He never rushed you or offered hollow reassurances. Instead, he met you where you were, matching your vulnerability with his own. Slowly but surely, the cracks in your heart began to mend, and in their place, something new and unexpected began to grow.
Each shared moment, each quiet laugh, and each tender look made you realize just how much Chris had come to mean to you. The heartbreak that had once defined your days began to fade, replaced by the warmth of his presence...
As December 2024 arrived, you found yourself surprised at how quickly the year had passed. It was as if time had slipped through your fingers, leaving you wondering how the months had gone by in a blur. Despite a rocky beginning to the year, one thing was clear, Chris Bang had been a steady and reassuring presence in your life, his bad jokes, comforting smile, and unassuming nature making 2024 a lot more bearable than 2023. And now, every time he spoke, you found yourself struck by how his voice, that familiar warmth, could make your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. His smile, his presence,it was beginning to feel like something more than just a friendship, something you weren’t sure how to define yet.
So, when Chris invited you over for his Christmas Eve gathering, you decided to go all in. You wanted to make this night special, just as much for him as for you. You crocheted him a sweater, carefully stitching his initials into the fabric. You baked cookies, filling your kitchen with their delicious scent, and chose a red dress that made you feel both confident and beautiful. As the evening approached, your nerves kicked in, the anticipation of seeing him making your heart race.
When you finally arrived at his door, you knocked lightly, trying to calm the fluttering feeling in your chest. The door opened quickly, and to your surprise, it wasn’t Chris standing there. Instead, it was his friend Han Jisung, whom you’d met briefly a few months ago. His bright smile was instantly familiar, putting you at ease.
"Hey, YN!" Jisung greeted warmly. "Come on in!" he added, stepping aside to let you enter. You walked inside, immediately feeling the cozy Christmas atmosphere. The living room was stunning, with a large tree in the center, its lights twinkling softly against the backdrop of garlands and ornaments. It felt so festive, and for a moment, you forgot about the nerves that had plagued you moments ago.
Chris and his friends were in the middle of a lively conversation when you stepped into the room. But the moment Chris saw you, everything else seemed to fade away. He froze for just a moment, mid-sentence, his eyes wide as they locked onto you. The effect you had on him was immediate, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in your chest.
You were standing there in your red gown, your hair styled in soft beachy waves that cascaded down to your shoulders. The sight of him standing there, visibly taken aback, made your cheeks flush with warmth. You couldn't help but smile shyly, and when you caught his gaze, his expression softened, his lips parting as if searching for words.
"Hyung!" someone called out, a playful voice that broke the moment. You turned to see a big, muscular guy, probably Changbin, giving Chris a teasing look. "A fly will enter if you don’t close your mouth."
Chris's face immediately turned a shade of red that matched your dress, and he shot a mock glare at Changbin. The others burst into laughter, but Chris quickly composed himself, a sheepish grin replacing his flustered look. "Welcome, YN," he said, his voice warm and inviting. He gestured for you to sit next to him on the couch, his eyes still lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and affection.
You nodded shyly and walked over to the couch, your heart racing as you sat beside him. But as soon as you did, the teasing began. The others couldn't resist. "Ooooooh!" they shouted in unison, their voices full of playful mischief.
You and Chris both erupted into giggles, trying to stifle your laughter. It was clear that no matter how much you both tried to pretend otherwise, the chemistry between you was undeniable. As the teasing continued, you both found comfort in the easy banter, laughing together until the weight of everything else seemed to disappear.
The night unfolded like a beautiful dream, with the flickering lights of the Christmas tree casting a soft glow over the cozy room. Laughter echoed through the space, mixing with the gentle hum of conversations and the clink of glasses. You were surrounded by the warmth of good friends, but there was something about the way Chris's presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, making everything feel just a little brighter. Of course, his ever-present humor kept the atmosphere light, and his jokes, though admittedly cheesy, had everyone laughing, including you.
"Do you know this man right here is a Christmas gift stealer?" you said, pointing toward Chris with a playful grin, recounting the story of how you met him to the group.
"No way!" Hyunjin exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise as he absorbed the details of the story.
“We thought you were the new neighbor, and that’s how he met you,” Changbin added with a teasing tone, looking at Chris as if he’d just discovered some hidden truth about him.
“I had better expectations of you, man,” Jisung laughed. “But you’re no different than the rest of us.”
Chris sighed dramatically, playing along with the teasing. “Hey, in my defense,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “How was I supposed to know that gift wasn’t meant for me? It said ‘Dear Chris, love YN’ with my address on it. I thought the universe had decided to bless me with early Christmas gifts.”
The entire room erupted in laughter, some of the guys doubled over, clutching their stomachs. Chris sat back in his chair, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, his dimples making an appearance as his signature smile spread across his face.
“You guys act like I planned it,” Chris protested, though his playful tone made it clear he was enjoying the moment. “It’s not my fault the universe decided to shower me with gifts every Christmas.”
“Free gifts?” you raised an eyebrow, not letting him off the hook that easily. “You’re lucky I didn’t press charges for theft, Christopher Bang!”
The room burst into another wave of laughter, the sound so infectious it had you all grinning ear to ear. Chris shook his head, chuckling. “Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “But those gifts were too nice to ignore. I figured I must have been extra good that year.”
Hyunjin leaned forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “Or maybe someone was really in love with you and you didn’t even know it.”
Chris’s cheeks immediately turned a shade of pink, and he hastily averted his gaze to the floor, mumbling something incoherent. The group caught on to his sudden shyness and burst out with a loud, collective “Ooooooh!”
“Wait a second,” Jisung interjected with a raised eyebrow, now eyeing Chris in mock disbelief. “So you’ve been using scarves, mugs, and all those gifts knowing full well they weren’t even yours?”
Chris’s grin widened mischievously. “Hey, they came with my name on them. Technically, they were mine.”
Changbin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking at Chris as if he were a detective revealing a crucial piece of evidence. “You’re lucky YN didn’t track you down sooner. This could have turned into one of those true crime documentaries where the victim is the ‘mystery gift giver.’”
You shook your head, chuckling softly at the thought. “Trust me, I almost did. But now, I’m starting to think the universe had its reasons.”
For a moment, the laughter died down, and the room grew quieter as your eyes met Chris’s. There was something in his gaze, something softer than the playful teasing that had filled the air just moments before. The noise of the room seemed to fade, and all you could hear was the rhythmic beat of your own heart. His smile remained, but there was a depth to it now, a quiet understanding that seemed to bridge the gap between you. It felt like the world was holding its breath as you shared a moment that was just for the two of you.
As the clock inched closer to midnight, the lively chatter in the room began to fade, replaced by the soft hum of smaller conversations and the gentle melodies of Christmas tunes playing in the background. The festive atmosphere lingered, cozy and comforting, as the glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in warm, golden light.
You found yourself nestled beside Chris on the couch, a glass of wine cradled in your hand. He seemed relaxed, his attention caught by a show playing softly on the TV. But your focus was elsewhere, on the small, carefully wrapped package resting in your lap.
Gathering your courage, you turned to him and gently nudged his arm. "Here," you said, offering him the gift with a shy smile.
Chris’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he looked down at the neatly wrapped present in your hands. "For me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Or did you forget the right address again?"
You laughed, rolling your eyes at his teasing. “Shut up and open it!”
As the paper fell away, his face lit up with genuine delight. Nestled inside was a periwinkle sweater, his initials lovingly stitched into the fabric, alongside a neatly arranged box of homemade cookies. His grin widened as he looked between the gift and you, his eyes sparkling with warmth.
"You made this?" he asked, his voice soft with wonder.
You nodded, biting your lip nervously. "I did. Took me a while, but... I wanted it to be special."
Chris held up the sweater, admiring the intricate detail, before carefully setting it aside along with the cookies. His gaze returned to you, his smile softer now, almost reverent.
Chris carefully set the sweater and cookies aside, his attention fully on you. He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, as if the room around you had faded away and there was only the two of you left in this quiet, intimate space. “YNnie,” he whispered, the nickname he had given you rolling off his tongue with such warmth that it sent a shiver down your spine, “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve changed my life this past year.”
You blinked, your heart suddenly racing in your chest, caught off guard by the weight of his words. “Me?”
Chris nodded, his hand moving gently to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and almost reverent. “When I met you, I thought it was just some funny coincidence, a mix-up that led to free gifts and good laughs. But you... you turned out to be so much more than that. You’re thoughtful, kind, ridiculously talented, and you've made this year brighter in ways I can’t even put into words. And I’m not just saying that because you bake the best cookies.”
You let out a soft laugh, a tear threatening to spill as his words wrapped around your heart. “You’re just saying that because I made you a sweater,” you teased, trying to deflect the overwhelming emotion building in your chest.
“No,” he said firmly, his eyes never leaving yours, his voice unwavering. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
The room felt smaller now, the Christmas lights casting their soft glow around you, wrapping you both in a bubble of warmth and intimacy. It was as if time had slowed down, and all that mattered was this moment, the two of you. His hand found yours, gently resting over it, his touch grounding you.
“You’ve made me laugh when I didn’t feel like laughing,” he continued, his voice rich with sincerity. “You’ve reminded me that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful. And every time I look at you, I’m reminded that maybe, just maybe, the universe finally got it right.”
Your breath hitched in your throat, tears threatening to spill as you absorbed the weight of his words. “Chris…”
Your cheeks burned as you gazed at him, unable to deny the depth of the feelings that had been quietly building between you over the past year. The way he had supported you, respected your space, and been there when you needed him, all without hesitation. How had you never realized before just how much he had changed your life? Maybe, just maybe, he was the one you had been waiting for all along.
When Chris leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur, you felt it,the certainty that the so-called mix-up, the mistake that had brought you into each other’s lives, was anything but coincidence. It was fate. A quiet, unspoken connection that had led you here, to this very moment.
Your breath hitched as the distance between you disappeared. Without hesitation, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the magnetic pull of his presence. His lips brushed against yours, featherlight at first,hesitant, almost as if asking for permission. When you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, unfolding with a slowness that spoke of intention and meaning. It was tender yet passionate, every movement deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second.
His hand gently cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing delicate circles against your skin. The warmth of his touch grounded you, even as your heart threatened to soar. You melted into him, losing yourself in the quiet intimacy of the moment. For that brief, perfect moment, the world outside ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered,only him, only this.
When you finally broke apart, both breathless and overwhelmed, Chris rested his forehead gently against yours, his tender smile radiating warmth. “Merry Christmas, YNnie,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with affection, as though the words were meant for you and you alone.
“Merry Christmas, Chris,” you murmured in return, your voice trembling with emotion. Your heart felt impossibly full, and the heat in your cheeks lingered, a reminder of the moment you’d just shared.
As the world around you softened, wrapped in the glow of twinkling Christmas lights and the quiet hum of holiday melodies, you leaned into the comforting presence beside you. In that stillness, a profound realization settled over you. Sometimes, the most precious gifts in life aren’t the ones you meticulously plan or chase after. They’re the ones that catch you off guard...the ones that find you, that feel like fate wrapping itself around you in the most unexpected, beautiful way.
And tonight, that gift had come wrapped in a heart, a dimpled smile, and a name that had become your favorite sound....
Comment your @ If you wish to be added or removed from this list ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
𐙚 ˚ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!
The high elves (Elf!Scoups x reader, Elf!Dino x reader)
One day you wake up in a beautiful enchanted forest. It looks straight out of your prettiest and most ethereal dream. The trees seem to be calling to you, pulling you in many different directions. Who knows what or who you will encounter on your way...
Genre: elf AU, fantasy AU, smut, fluff wc: 2.7 k
Warnings: mean cheol and kind dino, experienced reader, inexperienced dino, smut, penetration (unprotected), creampie, oral giving and receiving, name calling, rough sex, vouyerism, public sex, no mxm, no threesome
A/N: first chapter of the series, I hope you like it. Divider by @strangergraphics
The light filtered through the trees making beautiful intricate patterns on the ground. The grass was soft and comfortable. Your eyelids felt heavy, the sun warmed you beautifully and the birds were chirping a tune so alluring. You just wanted to go back to sleep, but the shaking did not seem to stop.
“My lady, are you okay? Can you hear me?” You whined and tried to swat the hands gripping your shoulders away, but they didn’t let up. You were wide awake now. The only choice possible was to open your eyes.
The first thing you noticed was that your legs felt a little..breezier than usual. You reached out to feel your flannel pajama pants but instead you found rough and light material.
‘What the hell?’
Your eyes focused on the person in front of you, still shaking you. He had short dark hair, sharp and handsome features. An inhuman scream ripped out of your throat.
“Who the hell are you? Where am I?” Last thing you remembered was going back to sleep in your dingy apartment, how were you suddenly in a meadow? In a dress? With two handsome guys with…pointy ears?
“My lady?” your hands shot up unconsciously and tugged at his ear. It didn’t budge.
“Wow, did you have plastic surgery or something? It’s a little weird, but they really did a good job. I didn’t know surgeons did elf ears,” you replied groggily. Your head was still spinning and your limbs felt so heavy, you couldn’t get up from the ground. The hand of the man in front of you, strategically placed under your head, was the only thing keeping you from laying on the grass like a rag doll. The man with pointy ears looked to his right where another man stood. He was even more handsome than the one hovering over you, he was broader, had longer and darker hair. The other man looked at you, he seemed strangely annoyed.
“My lady, I’m afraid I do not understand.”
“The fake ears.” The first man narrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
“These are not an imitation, my lady. I am an elf.”
“Yeah, right, an elf,” you laughed in his face.
A couple of hours later, you sat on a log in front of a fire with Chan’s cloak on your shoulders.
“You really are elves..”
You were shaking like a leaf. When you had woken up that morning you would’ve never thought that teleportation and world hopping were on the list, but there you were.
“If you are from another world like you said, we need to take you to our queen. To be judged,” ordered the other elf. You quickly learned that the pair was very different. Seungcheol, the grumpy, long haired one, was the oldest and the captain of the royal guards. He called the shots and didn’t like disobedience. Chan, the young and kind one, was the newest recruit, but so promising that he became the captain’s right hand in a matter of months.
“If? Are you serious? Do I look like I’m from here?” Seungcheol didn’t bother giving you an answer, he only glanced at you like you were a mere fly in his peripheral vision.
“Captain, if i may, she doesn’t look-” Chan immediately stopped when his captain stood up.
“Let’s go, we are a few days away from the next guard post.”
Seungcheol and Chan grabbed their horses and climbed on them.
“Sir, what about the lady?”
“She walks, she is a prisoner.” Chan sent you a pitiful look.
The only positive outcome in the predicament you found yourself in was that the forest and the general landscape were breathtaking. The sight in front and around of you alone, should’ve tipped you off when you had initially wondered where you were. It looked like nothing you had ever seen and certainly it didn’t look like it belonged on earth. The trees shined under the sunlight; all kinds of animals were scurrying between the bushes or flying above you. They weren’t even scared of you, it was clear that they weren’t used to the destructive human presence and the elves treated them well. And at night the place filled with fireflies, hundreds of them everywhere. They warmed your heart. Everytime you looked at the wonders of nature, Chan looked at you and his heart melted in his chest. You were cute and seemed to like the world he was living in, you didn’t take it for granted like the other elves he knew.
The first night, you couldn’t sleep. The ground was very unforgiving unlike your deluxe soft mattress. So you found yourself staring out into the forest and listening to the life all around you.
“Everything alright, my lady?”
The voice of the younger elf scared you,and you let out a muted shriek against your hands, pressed against your mouth. At your reaction, Chan was even more taken aback by your reaction and started to apologize profusely. After you had both settled down, he turned to look at you, really look. You seemed tired and uneasy.
“My lady, how is your world?”
That night Chan had let you talk his ear off most of the time until you had fallen asleep out of exhaustion. Seungcheol laid on his side, pretending to sleep but intently listening to your story.
Everytime you stopped to eat or sleep, you had taken the habit of sitting in a high place in the company of the young elf. The conversation flowed naturally between you two, unlike his captain he was pleasant to be with. And most importantly he was handsome, more than any human man you had ever met; he was also easy to fluster which you loved.
“Channie,” the nickname made him blush every time, elves weren’t so friendly with each other, “how are elven women? Are they similar to human women?” Chan straightened his back and looked at you.
“They are female, so the physical appearance is similar, even if human women seem to be rounder in general.” You scoffed.
“Are you calling me fat?”
“No, my lady, I would never offend you! Human women are softer, that is all. They are also more passionate.”
You finally turned to face him.
“Passionate? Are you talking about sex, Channie?” It amused you, his reddened face. But you couldn’t deny that you were taken aback from his courage to bring up the topic.
“Elves mostly have intercourse to produce offspring, it is very mechanical.”
“Yikes, seems awful. Sex should be fun.” Chan started ripping and fiddling with strings of grass beneath him. An idea popped up into your head. Could he be..? Your hand came in contact with his perfect, unblemished cheek. It felt warm under your fingertips. Chan let you get closer and closer to him until you could feel each other’s breaths, and then you closed the distance between you two. His lips were soft and cool, just like his skin. The kiss was nothing but a peck but when you pulled away to look at Chan he looked elated.
“Tell you what, convince your captain to let me bathe tomorrow and I’ll teach you how to have fun.” Unbeknown to both you , said captain was a few meters away, behind a tree listening to what you were saying.
The next day not only Chan had convinced Seungcheol to stop by a river big enough to bathe in, but he had also convinced him to let you ride on his horse. The young elf's body was pressed behind yours and you could feel every single muscle. He felt like he was made of pure steel, but you had a hunch that all elves were like that. The ride had been pleasant at first, it was nice having not to walk on flimsy shoes for a whole day. But the more you went on, the more yours and Chan's body rubbed together. It had been a long time since you had felt the touch of a man, so you had scooted closer to him in hopes of rubbing against him more insistently. By the end of the day both of you were out of breath and crazy with need. As soon as you jumped off his horse, you dragged him to the river, away from Seungcheol’s judgy eyes. Or so you thought, because the captain had followed you once again.
Unaware of the prying eyes on you two, you quickly stripped off your clothes and threw yourself into the water. Chan stood on the bank, eyes glued ok your body. Human women were truly different.
“Are you gonna join me, Channie?” you giggled. He didn't answer, “No? Then I'm gonna come to you. Sit down for me at least,” the boy immediately followed your orders, like a good soldier would. Cute.
You swam to him and when the water started getting too shallow, you made a show of crawling your way on top of his frame. Your wet skin immediately drenched his clothes, but neither of you truly cared.
Your lips crashed together, desperate and needy after a day full of rubbing against each other and getting stimulation that could not quite cut it. He wasn't an experienced kisser, on the contrary he made mistakes. His teeth clashed with yours more times than you could count but his hands felt heavenly squeezing your hips. When you pulled away, Chan used his inhuman strength to bring you back down, and chased off your lips, but you stopped him.
“Easy, soldier, I want to show you something. Relax for me, okay?”
Your hands traveled down his torso and to his pants where they slowly, too slowly, undid the knots keeping them together. His cock sprung up, angry red tip leaking precum. Your mouth watered. Your hand wrapped it around it and to your surprise his skin was still cool to the touch. And soft. Chan threw his head back, his hands closed into fists.
Your mouth wrapped around his tip and his tongue swirled on the small little hole on his tip while trying to collect as much precum as you could. Chan thought he was going to have a heart attack at the sensation, nothing could've prepared him for how good it felt, but then your head started bobbing your head and your hands found his balls and he was sure he could see the universe in front of his eyes. His toes curled inside his light shoes and his back arched off of the ground. His chest rose up and down, up and down, faster and faster and faster until just as quickly as everything started, it finished and he was cumming down your throat. His orgasm and post orgasm bliss shook him so hard that he didn't even notice that you weren't at his side anymore but were now patting your hair dry.
“Liked it?” all he mustered was a light nod, with his mouth hanging open. And you giggled, that sweet little giggle that he had learned to love in the past few days.
Seungcheol groaned quietly and thumped his head against the tree behind him, he should've been ashamed. Spying on his young soldier like that wasn't high and mighty, but his cum splattered on his hand and his still painfully hard dick told another story. He was gonna have to deal with you the following day.
After having laid down for what felt like an eternity, Chan had gotten up and asked to pleasure you. He was a natural, and greedy too. He had spent what felt like hours between your legs, had lapped up at your pussy until your legs were shaking like an earthquake and your slick was dripping off of his chin. You had to physically remove him from your abused and red clit and when he looked up at you, his eyes were big and sparkly. He had muttered a small “thank you, my lady” and then kissed your hand delicately. It was a shame you had to go back to your world, you could've fallen in love with him.
The next morning while your lover had gone to retrieve the horses the captain approached you.
“You ride with me today prisoner.” You grinned.
“Did you enjoy the show yesterday, captain?” Seungcheol's hand wrapped around your throat and you widened your eyes.
“Let's see if you're still cocky after I've dealt with you.”
Seungcheol was a different rider than Chan, he was more aggressive and most importantly he kept you pressed up against his frame tightly. By midday, your breath was heavy and your pussy was pulsing with need; the only thing keeping your arousal from dripping down your legs was the saddle under you. Cheol’s hands had begun to wander your body, his feather light fingertips traced your thighs and torso and neck. You were grateful for the protocol that forced Chan to ride way behind his captain.
“Make a noise and I throw you off this horse and spank you raw,” Cheol's voice was rough against your ear, but what startled you were his fingers, finally, dipping under your skirt to trace your pussy. His middle and ring finger lightly dipped into your waiting hole to gather your wetness and bring it to your clit. He began gently flicking your delicate bundle of nerves with light and quick movements. He was skilled. You wanted to wail and thrash around, you wanted to scream at him to go faster and harder and to make you cum. But you couldn't.
When you finally stopped at the end of the day, you were delirious with pleasure, slumped against the elf's broad chest with tears straining your cheeks. Seungcheol didn't want to admit it but he was as worked up as you, his cock had been leaking precum for hours, so much that it made a big and visible stain on the front of his pants. He wasted no time in dismounting his horse and hauling you over his shoulder.
“Take care of dinner, soldier.”
Cheol strutted deep into the forest until he found a place he liked and then unceremoniously dropped you on the ground. His toned body pressed your front and cheek against the bark of a large, solid tree.
“What do you say, slut? Are you done being cocky?”
“I'm sorry sir, I'm sorry. Please fuck me. Please, please, please…” you continued sobbing in desperation. Seungcheol grinned and shoved down his pants. He didn't have to prep you, you were plenty wet. Your arousal stuck your pubic hair to your mound and he groaned at the sight. He loved that human women could grow so much hair.
With one rough thrust he entered you, his cock stretched you in ways nothing had ever had, not even your XXL dildo back at home. With just one fluid movement, you were already cumming around his cock. The torture of the day had took anything from you and your limit had very much been reached.
Your pussy gushed and splashed clear and sticky liquid on Cheol's pelvis.
“Dirty human,” he tsked at you, but his hips picked up their pace. Soon he was pistoning in and out of you, fucking you to his heart's content while you were limp, whimpering and drooling against the tree, too lost in the pleasure he was giving you. With how worked up the captain was too, it didn't take him too much time to cum. His hot seed flooded your insides and made you wail. If you could've cummed one more time, you would've. When Cheol pulled out of you, your visions went black.
When your eyes fluttered open again, you were laying on Chan’s lap, and by the look in his eyes he knew what you and his captain had gotten up to. Your heart ached for the boy.
“You’re my favourite, Channie. Your captain is a meanie.” The soldier let you touch his cheek and deep down you knew all was forgiven. He was too kind.
“I can hear you,” Seungcheol was trying to seem mad, but you could see a small smile illuminated by the light of the fire.
The journey with Chan and Seungcheol had come to an end. You all had stopped at the edge of a clearing, a large tower stood proud in the middle of it. The outpost.
“This is where we part, human.”
“Have a safe journey, my lady.” And with that the two guards turned their horses around and left you alone once again.
It didn’t take long for another pair of elves to approach you, one was tall and tan, the other shorter and paler.
“Are you the human we’re looking for? You’re pretty.”
Synopsis: What was with the hype behind your handsome roommate? You wanted to know, but you didn't have plans on becoming one of his damsels in distress.
Genre: Smut, Friend to ? , Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. Mentions of alcohol, a slight hint of body image issues (if you squint), protected sex [piv] (wrap it before you tap it, folks. Safety first), oral [fem receiving], adult themes, adult language, please let me know if I missed any
Author's Note: Truthfully, this is a little angsty at the end, so reader discretion is advised. It's not too bad in my opinion, but to each his own.
Special thanks: @therhythmafterthesummer, @edanzgarden, @infamouskem For reading over this and giving me feedback, so I could post this confidently. I really appreciate the support you give me.
Word Count: 3,000+ [13 minute read time]
Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.
AGELESS BLOGS & MINORS DNI
There was just something cathartic about doing absolutely nothing on a Sunday morning. Lots of people referred to them as lazy Sundays for a reason, right? Yours started earlier than expected, but the early start worked in your favor. You treated you and your best friend to breakfast from this little hole in the wall restaurant, and now you are currently in the middle of a mani-pedi and face mask session. Relaxing.
"You know what she told me?" You bestie Jodie waved her freshly painted nails around dramatically as you listened intently. "She said that my mouth was way too pretty to be so fucking foul. Then she had the audacity to try and neg me" she huffed, "If I stopped talking I'd be exactly her type." She scoffed, "Well excuse-fucking-me. That bitch can kick rocks, her and her seven figure bank account.." She pretended to cry towards the end. "The verbal abuse was almost worth it. She could have funded our girls' trips. Why'd she have to be so pretentious?" Jodie had a tendency to be a little over dramatic to say the least.
"To be fair, babe, you do have a foul mouth. She wasn't wrong there. But, if she liked you for you, she'd accept that, no questions asked." You dipped your wand back in your bottle to add another layer of polish to your toes. "But it's her loss if you ask me. You're a prize, a jewel." She gasped, putting a hand to her chest.
"Aww babes, that's the sweetest thing I've heard all year. Maybe I should've tried to date you in -" she paused as a door in the apartment opened. There were faint voices and footsteps that gradually became louder the closer they got.
Your roommate emerged from the hall, hand on the small of some random girls back. "You were wonderful last night, Chris. Thanks for taking care of me." She smiled all dreamily at him as you and Jodie watched from the couch.
"It was nothing, baby girl, I'd do anything to help." She leaned in to try and peck his lips, but he turned, letting her kiss his cheek instead. You watched with a smirk on your face. These girls never had any clue what they were getting themselves into. But you enjoyed watching them crash and burn nonetheless. You were a bit of a sadist in that way.
He saw her out and only noticed the presence of other people on his way back to his room. "Good morning, ladies."
You and Jodie shared a look before you spoke, "Brought home another stray, I see, Chris. What was it this time? Her boyfriend stood her up, so you made sure to fuck her till she felt loved?" Jodie snickered while you genuinely waited for an answer.
"Cute." He smirked at you, leaving you answerless as he returned to his room with a soft click of his door closing.
"Look, you know I only swing that way on occasion. But I have to say, your roommate is fucking hot. Like the sun colliding with the rest of the stars in the universe. A fucking Supernova."
You laughed at her antics. She was jumping on the couch to get her point across. "I mean… yeah, he is. But he's also a fuck boy with a savior complex. There is a new face in this apartment every other day it seems, and trust and believe, all of them have issues. His life isn't complete without saving some hapless bimbo and dumping her off on our doorstep the next morning."
Jodie's nose wrinkled at your words, but you continued anyway. "I'm surprised he doesn't wear capes out every night."
She chuckled at you. "Someone sounds bitter." She pursed her lips after singing her words.
"As if." You threw a pillow at her, but she dodged it.
"Missed me." She stuck her tongue out at you, then laughed.
It wasn't that you had something against Chris and his need to help out anyone in need. That was actually a good trait to have. No, your problem lies with his projects constantly invading your space. Though a shared bathroom was the least of your problems when you let him move in, your thoughts never went to him bringing strays home every other night.
Not when he seemed to be the boy next door who was wholesome upon first meeting. What made things worse for you was when these technical one night stands would have the audacity to ask why you were in your own apartment. Or ask what your intentions for their man of one night was.
One girl even went as far as to contact you at work to tell you to back off. Unhinged behavior, if anyone asked you. What was he doing to the girls to make them act this way? It couldn't have been the kindness. He was genuinely nice to everyone. And you meant, everyone. Even people who you would've considered less than deserving, he gave them a chance and, for some, multiple chances. And while he is very handsome, handsomeness isn't something that would make someone go batshit crazy. At least you hoped that was the case. It had to be the dick. There was no other possible explanation.
Chris was one of your closest friends. Even though you started off as just roommates, you quickly became close. Finding that you had a lot of common interests in music, movies, and fashion.
Truthfully, you'd never been so close to a man who wasn't your boyfriend before. He was honestly different from anyone you'd met before, and you absolutely adored that about him.
"Are you completely sure that I should be your plus one for this?"
You were in a fitting room, trying on a dress that he was buying for you to be his date to a premiere. "Who else would I take? You're the only person I considered beautiful enough to be on my arm." He spoke jokingly, even if he was being completely honest.
"Christopher, stop lying to yourself. We both know how hot that girl you picked up at the bar last week was. Hell, if you hadn’t hit on her, I might have." To you, she was absolutely his style. Beautiful and damaged.
"I mean, she was okay. But she's not you." You poked your head out the curtain, making sure to keep your lack of clothing hidden.
"Seriously, Chris…" You deadpanned. "Stop it. We both know she'd look far better in the dress than I do." You closed the curtain to finish adjusting your dress, making sure no bits were showing.
He'd been frowning at his phone since you brought the girl up, but his face softened when you stepped out. You adjusted the beading on the shoulders and smoothed your hands over the black, silky fabric on the hips.
"I mean, heels are necessary…" You lifted up on your tiptoes. "But I think I like it." You turned a little, showing off just how the fabric fit your body.
Chris was speechless. All the words he had previously thought to say had all died on his tongue.
"Is it bad?" You immediately started to panic due to his lack of verbal confirmation. "I can find another one if this doesn't look good." You started for the dressing room, hand on the curtain when he stopped you.
He could have sworn he had never moved that fast in his life. One second he was sitting. The next he was up, pulling you back, flush to him, hand on your hip to stop you from leaving. You made eye contact in the mirror.
"It's perfect. You… you're perfect." His words melted your anxiety. "I don't think any other dress will do you justice. This is the one.." He smiled, causing you to reciprocate.
"All you had to say was 'It's fine, Y/n.' That would have sufficed." He chuckled, then leaned in to peck your temple.
"No, I think my response was just fine." That dress was by far one of the most expensive things he had ever purchased for a woman that wasn't his mother. But with the way it looked on you and the smile on your face while you wore it? It was worth it. He'd give anything to keep that smile on your face.
Work was kicking your ass. Long days of staring at a computer screen, answering customers' questions about high-speed internet options, wouldn't have been your first pick. But it paid your portion of the rent and kept food in your refrigerator.
After a particularly long day, you kicked off your heels at the front door and grabbed a beer out the fridge. Leaning against the counter as you took your first refreshing swig. "Long day?" You nearly choked hearing your roommates voice. You must have been so out of it you didn't see or hear him come out of the bathroom.
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, "That obvious?" Your eyes landed on him as he slotted himself in the space next to you, towel around his waist, fresh from the shower. You quickly averted your eyes, suddenly finding the countertop very fascinating.
"I mean, you don't usually come in and drink without taking off your work clothes first. So, yeah." Chuckling, he continued, "Everything alright?" He asked.
You hummed. "Just burnt out, I guess. I got an email about retirement benefits today, and it just kind of made me realize that selling internet packages might not be what I want to be doing in twenty or thirty years."
He puffed out a small laugh. "That's what made you realize that?"
You playfully nudged him. "Oh, shut up. We can't all do what we love and be kind of successful at it. It just doesn't happen for everyone like that." Chris had been acting since childhood. He had a string of successful commercials and short films.
He had recently gotten the call to be the second male lead in a Netflix drama. He'd be flying out soon to start filming. "It could. If you want it, that is."
You tilted your head, face scrunched in confusion. "We can't always get what we want, Chris." You scoffed, just now noticing how close he was to you.
"I think we can if we put in the effort." He shrugged, “Knowing what you want and going after it wholeheartedly is key.” he leaned in closer, his warm, peppery scent invading your senses.
You gulped but covered it with a chuckle. “I don’t know what I want.” You picked at the label on the beer bottle. “Can’t chase after something when you don’t know what that something is.”
He softly grabbed your chin to make you look at him, "We can figure it out together." The way his eyes sparkled as he talked seemed to pull you in. The next thing you know, your lips are on his. It felt like longing. Like both of you had wanted this forever.
He cupped your face, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones. His touches and kisses were both very soft, lulling you into this cocoon of safety. He lifted you on the countertop and slotted himself between your legs. There was something comforting about his presence, something that made you feel like you were wrapped in the warmest of blankets.
You both pulled away from the kiss, trying desperately to catch your breath. He stripped you out of your shirt, tossing it somewhere between the kitchen and entrance. His lips were soon back on yours before migrating down to your neck to your chest. He left light bites on your skin, making it down to your breasts where nibbles soon became full of bite marks.
He didn't even bother getting rid of your bra. He just pulled the cups down enough to free them to have his fill. He took his time, plush lips circling over your bud, tongue swirling around it before teeth sunk into it. He was soft, then rough, just to be soft once more, and you were loving every bit of it.
You worked your fingers into his hair, lightly tugging the strands. He groaned. Did he like having his hair pulled? You tested the waters again, tugging a little harder this time. He pulled away from your breasts, but not without dragging his teeth over your nipple. "Unless you like it really rough, I suggest you stop." Your brow rose, intrigued.
He pinched your nipple, his eyes boring right into yours. "We can try that some other time." What made him think you'd be crazy enough to do this again? But then again, all the girls eventually came back. So he must be doing something right. Curiosity got the better of you, and you tugged the towel, watching it fall. Your mouth might as well have dropped to the floor with it.
"Well, I'll be damned." No wonder these girls were absolutely obsessed with this man. He was huge. "All this time?" You questioned, more so to yourself than him.
"Eyes up here." He grabbed your face again, making you look him in the eyes. "Keep your eyes on me." You didn't know what it was about his voice that made a shiver run down your spine, but it did. You nodded, complying almost immediately.
He pulled you off the edge a little before lightly pushing your shoulder to lie back. Off went your slacks and panties, probably landing wherever your shirt was. He continued his trail down your stomach to your mound, where he placed an open-mouthed kiss there. He made his descent, and the first lick felt like a shock of lightning. It felt like his tongue covered your whole pussy.
Your head fell back as you moaned. His breath danced along your lips as he moved from your cunt to your clit, seemingly savoring the taste. He moaned around your bud, sending chills through you. It really felt like you'd ascend from the way he used his mouth.
Like your soul would just leave your body, just to watch the sensual things that man could do with his tongue. When he dipped his thick tongue inside of you, you could help but cum for him. The way he wiggled it, lapping up every drop of you, you had no choice but to give in.
Your toes curled, your hands gripped at the edge of the countertop, moans ringing out and bouncing off the way. The sound of a starved man came from between your legs as he cleaned you up. He lapped you up while you rode out your climax, legs finally closing around his head. He chuckled and effortlessly pulled them apart. He placed kisses on his way back up to your lips. Leaving a peck on every little bite mark he had left on the way down.
He let you taste yourself as he leaned in for a heated kiss. His hand roamed your body before settling on your waist. He pulled back and looked you in the eyes, seemingly searching for consent. You nodded. With one keep swoop, he picked you up and carried you over to the couch, laying you back on the plush surface.
Your head lightly hits the armrest, making you laugh. "Sorry. Are you okay?" He looked over at you before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
"I'm fine, Chris. You don't have to try and save me from every little inconvenience, I promise I'll be alright." He chewed on his bottom lip, looking as if he wanted to retort, but he didn’t.
He silently reached past you and dug into the side table drawer, pulling out a condom. "You just have random condom hidey holes?" You looked around to see if he could be hiding them anywhere else.
"Not really." You gave him a suspicious look as he tore the packaging and rolled the condom on. He lined himself up to your entrance and pushed in. The stretch was something you hadn't felt before. How in the hell were people taking this? You bit down on your bottom lip to suppress any strange noises you might have made. He noticed
Chris was kind and hated to see people in pain or upset. He always seemed to try and help, no matter what. So seeing you, his roommate, a friend in pain, pulled on his heartstrings like no other. He leaned in, pressing kisses to the side of your mouth, your jaw, and then your neck. The soft, open-mouthed kisses had you melting. You relaxed. Making it easier for him to slip in. Once he bottomed out, you draped your arms around his neck. Fingers playing with the duck tail of hair at the back of his head.
He kept his eyes on you, focused. His thrusts started slow. Building up a pace to where you could feel every single last vein and inch of skin. Despite the initial struggle, he was like a perfect fit. Your walls wrapped around him like a tight glove. He pecked your lips, then your cheek. "You're amazing, you know that, right?"
You chuckled, not buying into his words. "I'm sure you say that to all the girls you have the pleasure of being balls deep in." He shook his head but didn't bother replying.
It felt like his thrust got a little deeper, like he had something to prove. You could feel your wetness being drawn out with each push of his hips. Your eyes rolled back, walls quivering around his length. You stuttered out a curse, trying your best to stay composed. But this man was hitting something so deep in you that you felt you could see stars. You clawed at his forearms desperately. "Faster… please.." You begged. If he made you cum like this there was no telling how your body would react.
He changed his position, putting one of his feet on the floor and pushing your legs in towards your chest. If you wanted him to go faster, he'd oblige. But you didn't specify how much faster. He sped up just a little, but the way he started pounding into you made everything worse.
"Oh.. God…" you groaned out, legs starting to shake for how good it felt. How good he felt. He hadn't taken his eyes off you. Sweat was beginning to pool at his brows, some curls sticking to his forehead.
Your walls clenched around him involuntarily, causing him to whine. He had kept up the façade that this was doing nothing to him. But that couldn't have been far from the truth. The way your walls gripped him, the sounds you were making, the look on your face, how wet you were, and how this was all because of him.
He wanted to make you feel good. Because it was you. Only because it was you. He licked his thumb and started rubbing your clit in harsh circles. You grabbed the armrest, attempting to run away. But he wasn't having that.
He leaned in, pushing your legs even further towards your chest. He felt impossibly deep now. Now, you couldn’t run or hide from him even if you wanted. You were trapped. Forced to stare him in the eye as he rearranged your atoms just to put them back together again. There was just something in the way he looked at you that you couldn't shake. It once again felt like longing. Like he wanted to tell you something that you wouldn't believe. Like he loved you.
You quickly shut your eyes. There was no way you wanted to get caught up in whatever spell he was putting on all the other girls he was fucking. You didn't want to become a crazy girl statistic right here in your own house, on your own couch.
"Look at me… please." He sounded so soft, so sweet, but yet, so sad. Against your better judgment, you did as asked, looking him right in the eyes. Things seemed to go on like this for an eternity until he hit a spot that made your toes curl. He leaned in, kissing you passionately as you came around him.
Your nails dug into his neck and shoulder, making him groan through gritted teeth. He wanted to make it last, and he honestly tried his best. He didn't want the moment to end. He fucked you through your orgasm, just to pull out and cum on your mound and lower stomach. He caught himself before he collapsed on top of you. "W-was that okay....?" It seemed as if his confidence and charisma were at an all-time low.
The air became awkward after you both caught your breath and came to the realization of what you had done. "We.. we shouldn't have done this." You sat up, pulling away from him completely. "I don't know what got into me." You now understood how he could be with so many different women. He felt like comfort personified.
You got up from the couch and started to pace. "Oh my gosh, Y/n, what have you done?" You mumbled to yourself. How could you have let this happen? Regret washed over you immediately. Chris was supposed to be your friend, not someone you found this type of comfort in.
Chris was quiet. He wanted to hug you, comfort you, but you were going through emotions because he couldn't keep his to himself. See, he was in love with you, always had been. But despite him trying his best to show you how he felt, he always went unnoticed. When you started to casually date other people, he fell into the cycle he's in now. Finding comfort in whatever woman that needed the same thing. That's how he got the reputation he has now.
The crazy part was, that most of the time he didn't even sleep with them. He was just a shoulder to cry on, someone that gave great advice from a male's perspective. But the damage to his reputation, being know as a sweet playboy had already stuck. There was nothing he could do about it.
"I know we can't take it back… but let's pretend this never happened? Okay?" You were pleading with him. Asking for a clean slate. Begging for what had been done to be undone. He nodded, eyes shifting to the spot where you were just under him in the throws of passion. His heart clenched. It was breaking.
"I'm so sorry, Chris.." With nothing left to say, you ran off to the bathroom to clean yourself of your indiscretions. You left him there. Alone. You didn't dare look back. Your heart wouldn't be able to take it. Because you did indeed have a heart that you were trying to protect. Even if you might have just broken his.
Chris sat on the couch for what seemed like hours. Truth be told, he really did like you, and he really hoped that maybe something could come out of this. Maybe you'd realize that he had been pining after you this whole time. That he really only had eyes for you. But it seemed that his feelings would stay unnoticed. You'd never reach out a hand and pull him from the abyss he had fallen in. That he would continue to fall at high speeds with no parachute. That you'd never save him.
Fin
A.N: Please reblog, leave a like, or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.
[Rewrites, Reposts, and Translations are Prohibited]
Chan takes a sip of his drink, a cocktail of sorts, as his eyes find yours in the dim lighting of the bar. The sound of the waves in the distance renders it peaceful, the jazz music behind you fruity in its blend of musical instruments. There are a few people milling about on the public beach before you, but you find you cannot raise your gaze from the coke and rum in your hands.
"Care to elaborate?" He murmurs.
You sigh, "I'm just being petty."
You have been going out for more than four years after all. There's no one else you'd rather be with. And you know it's the same for him.
Yet, it always comes back to haunt you. A ghost from your past.
"I still want to hear it," there's a smile playing on his face. He feels like indulging in your childish manner today, "tell me."
"I..." you fumble with your glass. Take a sip. Swallow it down like it's medicine, "I..."
The words fail. It's so hard to talk of such things. Even the thought of it renders you speechless, annoyed, with that zpark of anger that follows.
He prods you with his shoulder, "c'mon. Spill it."
"Well," you start off as your hands find purchase in the fabric of the couch on which you're seated, "you know how your...you've had a girlfriend before me, right? And...I just hate the thought--it comes very rarely, but still--I hate the fact that you've experienced various things with her...that you--you did it all with her and I'm just--I'm never going to be the special first. You know? Like...there's always going to be someone else and when I think about it, it kinda makes me...i don't know, upset? Disappointed?"
There's silence as Chan takes in your words and you wonder whether you've strayed too far. It's obbiously no one's fault and yet, you don't want him to think you're just being dramatic. It is genuinely something that bothers you.
From the corner of your eye, you spot him taking another sip of his cocktail while mulling over your words. It's a long stretch of silence before he finally speaks up.
"I can't erase what I've experienced before you," he says slowly. His eyes find yours, reflecting the lustrous colours from the jazz bar beyond, red and gold and deep blue, "I understand what you feel sometimes. I can barely imagine your ex-boyfriend sneaking his hand down your shirt. It makes me uncomfortable," he purses his lips and one of his hands find your thigh before he rubs it in slow circles.
The movement spreads tingles of warmth up your body, unconsciously making you relax.
He continues, "but what I do know, is that the previous relationship I had makes me realize that ours is what I want. I love that we laugh and do stupid stuff together. I love that we talk, and I mean really talk, to each other. It sounds stupid, but it's true. I never really talked to my ex-girlfriend. I--I think that now, looking back, I should've definitely treated her better. It might sound bad but...yeah. it's the truth."
The music fades out as you concentrate on his words. Play them again. And again. A broken record on replay. You wish you can believe him. You will your heart to believe him. But it’s easier said than done. There’s so much fear, so much apprehension for the fact that you’ll never be his first and that, essentially, being first always wins, no matter what the result.
He probably notices the doubt on your face, for he’s quick to add, “and you know…of course I’ll compare you to her. That’s inevitable—“
You snort, “of course—“
“Well yeah it’s just natural,” Chan makes a grab for your hand, entwines them in his own. A rare occasion. He’s not one to touch so casually and you know for a fact that he’s no hand-holder, “but to be honest, it’s better. You’re better. And I’m not just saying that because I think you’re better than her, but you’re better for me. Maybe she was great too. She was perfect and we never had any fights. But that doesn’t mean she was it for me. I—I didn’t feel it. What we have.”
You sip down some more of your drink and grimace at the sting brought forth by the alcohol. His words ring with honesty, a fragility that settles in the distance between your two bodies. Love, care, tenderness. All of that wrapped up in those words like a gift he’s presenting to you.
You’re not convinced. It’s hard to when there are so many things you wish to improve on. You’re not perfect, but so is he. And what you do know, is that you trust Chan more than you can trust yourself.
In the brown eyes that glimmer in the reflection of the lights dancing upon your silhouettes, you wonder how much time it’ll take for all these scars to fade. You can’t help but hold his gaze, wanting, wishing to make sure that you’re his as much as he is yours.
“Come here,” he finally murmurs while his hand slips around your waist to pull you closer. His jaw finds solace at the side of your head and he can’t help but rock you back and forth with him, “I get it,” he says softly, rubbing a hand up and down your back as he does so, “I get why you might feel unsure about yourself.”
You hum into him in response.
“But I love you,” he continues in a whisper, “I don’t want you to neglect that fact.”
“I know,” you reply, “I love you too.”
It’s not great. But it’s a start. Everyone has to start somewhere in the first place, right? It’s never going to be enough and Chan’s previous encounters form a part of him. You can’t erase that fact, no matter how much you try.
But lying in his arms underneath the new moon rising in the horizon, you think that maybe it feels a little bit better just to have him holding you close like you’re the most precious thing in his world.
→genre: strangers to lovers
→synopsis: it’s rare that one night stands are good, but ones you simply cannot remember? their chances of turning out well are one in a million, and chan has proven himself a douchebag by your standards. things pan in a different direction on a coincidental cabin trip.
→pairing: chan x fem reader
→word count: 7.4k
→warnings: mature content (suggestive, light smut?), swearing
I.
There is a boy in your bed.
Drowsiness triggers his pouted lips to plump out further. He rolls over, facing the wall, as he tugs the duvet over his bare, broad shoulders. Admittedly, it suits the boy; but, you can’t exactly focus on his naked beauty right now. Mainly because he is, well, naked.
Panic travels the lengths of your veins as you attempt to remember the details of last night. New year, new boy toy. It’s a resolution anyone can have—some might even be jealous of you right now. Which would be fine, of course, if you knew who this boy was.
Sharp pain in your frontal lobe disrupts your attempt at recollection. You silently hiss, a hand pointlessly flying up to aid the internal aching.
Who is this boy? You must have met him at Hyunjin’s New Year bash. Where tons of free alcohol was presented before you. Peach champagne lingers on your tongue still. And a hint of something else. Is that beer? You must have been completely out of it for the free drink of choice to be beer.
Maybe he’s one of Hyunjin’s friends? He seems oddly familiar. Like you’ve seen his face in a passing Instagram post or something.
You glance to the bedside table beside the mysterious sleeping boy. Sure enough, your phone is there. Plugged in, too. At least you were responsible enough not to lose it in your drunken rampage.
Stealthily, you crawl out of bed, locating forgotten clothes that belong to you on the floor. You ignore the strewn heels and underwear, stealing the black dress as a shield before dashing into your closet. You drop the dress when the door latches shut with a single, loud click. Blindly, you search in the dark for new garments of protection.
Admittedly, the situation is bad, but you acknowledge the positive fact that you are in your house. Shame would drown you if you had to borrow a stranger’s clothes.
Clothed and slightly warmer than before, you step back into the familiar bedroom. Your eyes scan the room like a hawk to your phone. Next to it is his. Overflooded with curiosity and presented with an opportunity to quench it, you rush over.
You tap on the screen, displaying a selfie of him and one of his friends at the gym. They are both flexing their biceps. A smile with hints of laughter rests on the face of the boy who now sleeps beside you. He has dimples tucked in the plush of his cheeks. You roll your eyes. An avid gym-goer with an ego so inflated he has a picture of himself as his wallpaper? Are you serious? You couldn’t have bagged a peculiar boy who could make this investigation a bit more intriguing?
You unlock your phone after discovering he was smart enough to put a passcode on his. You open your text logs, hoping to steal even the tiniest of hints. Nothing new, though.
If anyone, Felix or Saerom would know, they were with you all night—from what you can remember.
You scroll to their group text, promptly typing a vague inquiry along the lines of “did you see me leave with anyone?”
The bubble that pops up to alert you that Felix is typing sends a pit of butterflies wild in your stomach. Please offer some insight. Please.
Lee Felix: Hmm, not sure. Why? Did you score? Lol
Frustration triggers an unintentional huff. The boy stirs from the noise. You wince.
Felix was supposed to be the designated driver. He should have been alert to make sure you didn’t slip away with someone of harsh intentions.
Saerom holds the most hope for you now. You just pray that she didn’t go wild with the alcohol like you apparently did.
You slip your phone into your pocket. The boy is hugging your dog plushie like it’s the last thing he’ll ever hold. He suddenly whimpers, whispering in his sleep, “Don’t leave me.”
Investigation takes over your vision, and you step around the discarded garments to further your search. You crouch beside his pants. They’re nice, expensive black cotton. A tie lays a few feet away. Hmm. Part of a suit.
Maybe drunk you’s option wasn’t too bad? Fashion sense outweighs the factor of his potential narcissism.
You slip a hand into the pocket. Relief flushes over your skin as you feel the thick leather of his wallet. His driver’s license gives you the greatest hint of personhood.
Bang Chan. DOB: October 3rd, 1997. He wields a serious, blank face. So different from the one he shows in the peace of sleep. But still, you don’t know who he is. Sure, you have a name to match the face, but that doesn’t make him any less of a stranger.
You return the wallet to its home while your phone continuously vibrates in your pocket.
Lee Saerom: Oh, I watched you leave with that guy in the suit. One of Changbin’s friends. Chan maybe?
Lee Felix: No way you fucked Bang Chan
Lee Saerom: Do you have a pic of him?? I can confirm his identity.
Lee Felix sent an image
Lee Saerom: Yup. That’s him. They looked pretty close haha.
Lee Felix: Oh Seungmin’s gonna love this
You rest your forehead against your palm as you stare at the chat. A deep sigh escapes your lips. “Fuck,” you mutter.
Seungmin, you’ve heard that name. Is he the tall one who was mocking Hyunjin about his new haircut? You think so, but that could have been Minho.
Hyunjin and Felix have too many friends to keep track of.
Behind you, the boy groans as he disappears from his dream world. You sit on the floor, looking up at him. A hand flies up to push his hair out of his eyes. “Shit,” he blinks hard, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. His eyebrows knit.
“Hi. Good morning?” you start.
He flinches at the sound of your voice, sitting up defensively. He glances down at his chest and yanks a pillow to cover himself.
You sputter a laugh. “Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.”
“Who are you?” he asks.
“Who am I?” your eyebrows jump in amusement. “I should be asking you that, considering you’re in my room.”
He takes a long look around your room, finally acknowledging the possibilities of last night. “Right,” he draws the word out. “I’m Chan. Bang Chan?” He doesn’t seem too sure of his own identity. Perhaps he thinks this is some unthinkable dream.
“Friend of Changbin?” you ask.
Confused, he hesitantly nods.
“Hmm. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you. Soberly.”
This rises a half laugh from him. The smile lingers on his face, and there those dimples are, peeking out so boyishly your heart tugs. “You too.”
After a disturbingly long silence (what do you say to someone after you’ve drunkenly had sex with them?), you say, “Seungmin’s probably going to make fun of you for this.”
“You know Seungmin?” His tone tips upward in curiosity.
“No, my friend does. But he said, and I quote, ‘Oh, Seungmin’s gonna love this’ end quote.”
He tilts his head to analyze your face. Maybe he thinks he sees familiarity in your features, but you’re sure he’s never seen you before this encounter. “Who’s your friend?”
“You have a lot of questions,” you observe.
His eyes narrow at this. “I feel like I have the right to.”
“Fair point. His name’s Felix. Now, what do you remember from last night? Because personally, I got nothing.”
His face lights up as though you’ve just told him he’s won the lottery. “Oh shit, you’re friends with Felix?” he laughs.
You nod. “Four years now. We met at the airport. He was flying to Australia, I was going to the States for a rendezvous with some guy from Tinder.”
“That’s crazy. Felix never talks about you.”
For some reason, this alerts a harmful pang in your chest. You thought you were closer to Felix than that, but maybe this just proves this Chan guy is so different from you that Felix has never felt the need to introduce him to your existence.
“Okay, answer my question now,” you say.
“I don’t remember anything either,” he admits.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I don’t exactly trust you on that. You’re a gym rat after all. You could be some gross dude who uses girls for sex and I’m the perfect prey,” you snap. It was the Felix comment. Hurt triggers some mean words.
“How do you know I’m a gym rat? I’m not a gym rat,” he defensively shakes his head, letting the pillow rest in his lap.
Right, you think, because non-gym rats have perfect pecs and a set of abs that look chiseled carefully by the gods.
You tip your chin towards his phone. “Your wallpaper.”
“You went through my phone?” he scoffs, face twisting into shock.
“I didn’t exactly know who you were. You’re not Mr. Popular, you know.”
He stares at you with wide eyes. “Other girls would disagree.”
You marvel at this oh-so-manly admission. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
You lean over and grab his pants, promptly throwing them at him. The last thing you want is to continue this conversation. You don’t even listen to your guy friends talk about their game, so the interest of listening to a stranger speak on this is skyrocketing in the wrong direction.
Pulling yourself up, you say, “Do you want breakfast?”
“Um, sure?”
“All I have are Eggos.” He gives you an incredulous look, causing you to add, “Be grateful I even offered.”
II.
Saerom and Felix sit on your couch while you pace the room, recounting the angering fling in great detail.
“Are you sure that was Chan? It doesn’t sound like him,” Felix shakes his head in disbelief.
“Well, does he have an evil twin with the same name or something?” you throw your arms around to emphasize the tense feeling in your stomach.
“No,” he mumbles, sinking back into the couch.
“He could have at least been grateful for the Eggos,” Saerom chimes in.
You’re glad she gets it.
“I don’t even remember the sex,” you admit.
“That wasted?” Saerom’s lips press into a fine line of shared disappointment.
“What a great start to the new year. Do you want to know something about Chan to make you feel better?” Felix inquires. His eyes are warm and welcoming, and you can’t bear saying no to him.
“Chan’s not a one-night-stand kind of guy. He probably just didn’t know what to do when he woke up. And he’s not a gym rat. He spends more time at work than anything. Changbin just drags him along every Saturday. I know because he tried doing the same to me. Except I’m not a sucker for my friends the way Chan is.”
“You are a sucker for your friends, though?” Saerom comments.
Felix offers her a short look. “Not as bad as Chan is. One time, he drove three hours across the country to pick Minho up from a dance competition gone wrong. I would never waste my gas like that.”
“Felix, this doesn’t make me feel any better,” you say.
He takes a deep breath, contemplating his next words with great concern. “If you run into him again, just give him a chance. Alright? I wouldn’t hang around a douchebag. You know that.”
You doubt you’ll willingly run into this man ever again, but you do have mutual friends, so you don’t dismiss Felix’s words entirely.
III.
You have made the executive decision to skip Hyunjin’s upcoming rager. Not because of the Chan dude. It’s been months since the fling even happened and you honestly forgot about it until Felix interrogated you about skipping.
“Chan’s not even gonna be there, you won’t risk running into him,” Felix had said, and you had to stop and think about who Chan even was.
Parties are just too much sometimes. Plus, you and Saerom have had plans to go up to the mountains for weeks and the party just so happens to fall upon the same weekend. It would be rude of you to miss out on a trip you helped plan.
“Should I pack a bathing suit?” Saerom asks over the phone. “I mean, the Airbnb has an indoor hot tub listed in the description.”
“Sure, I’ll pack mine too,” you say, backtracking to your dresser and grabbing the first suit you could find. You toss it in your suitcase.
“So you know how we’re sharing the place with another renter?” you start.
Saerom hums.
“Do you think it’ll be anyone cute?” you smile to yourself at the possibility.
“I hope so,” she chuckles on the other end. “The host told me there would be a group of boys around our age but she said they reminded her of frat boys.”
You throw your head back in agony and groan. What is this luck you have?
“Hey,” Saerom defends, “Frat boys can be nice. It’s just a-”
You cut her off, picking up one of your sweaters and holding it to your chest before tossing it on your bed, “One in a million chance?”
“Right.”
Saerom starts asking about music for the drive but is promptly interrupted by an incoming call.
“Shit, sorry, Hyunjin is calling. I’ll call you back,” you profusely apologize before accepting the new call. Felix probably told him you were bailing.
Before you can say hello, Hyunjin’s voice bombards your ears. “Are you skipping my party to go see your secret, mysterious boyfriend in the mountains?”
A laugh drifts past your lips. “Hello to you too.”
“Answer the question, Y/N.” He can’t possibly be angry at you for this, but he’s making a show.
“Since when do I have a secret, mysterious boyfriend?” you counter.
He huffs. “Nevermind. You have to come to the next party though, okay? It’s mandatory for maintaining your status as my best friend.”
“Ha! Best friend? Really?”
You’re truly amused by the silence that follows as he tries to spin a believable lie.
“Just free up your schedule, okay?” he whines.
“I’ll think about it.”
He makes a noise of histrionic Hyunjin-ness. A mix between a scream and a groan. Exaggerated in a way only he could pull off. “Please? I’ll get you that peach champagne shit again.”
“Hmm,” you consider.
“And I’ll make sure your boy shows up,” he hurriedly adds.
“My boy?”
“Yeah, well, a boy. Not necessarily yours.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What else do I have to throw in to convince you?”
You take a moment to draw his neediness in. Finally, you admit, “I was honestly just waiting to see if you’d bribe me. I’ll go. But make sure that peach stuff is there. It was really good.”
You think he’s screaming into a pillow for a second. He comes back to the phone, voice completely even. “I will ensure that the peach alcohol is waiting patiently for your return. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a minute. Have fun on your trip. Be safe. Tell your mystery boyfriend I say hi.”
Before you can shut down the secret boyfriend accusations, Hyunjin has already hung up.
IV.
Saerom has earned the award for the best Airbnb scouter in the history of your friends.
You hadn’t seen the pictures until the drive up. Saerom wanted to keep it a surprise but failed in the final hours. The log cabin is straight from a movie—one with a budget of a couple million. The high ceilings, the exposed support beams that add to the character, the tall windows that offer a view of the nearby mountaintops. Beauty doesn’t end there. A miniature theater, the hot tub room shares a view of the snowy trees, even the bedrooms have unique personalities.
“This is so cool!” you exclaim, spinning slowly to take in the living room. The leather couch is in pristine condition. Not a single scratch. You offer a round of applause for the owners of this place. They even put a wicker basket of blankets next to the couch for optimal coziness.
“Let’s go claim our rooms before the other group gets here,” Saerom grabs her suitcase handle and starts for the hallway adjacent to the kitchen. You trail after her like an amazed child, looking around with saucers for eyes.
She takes the room on one end of the Jack and Jill bathroom and you take the other. It comes in agreement that it would be too awkward to share a bathroom with a random (allegedly frat) boy.
In true vacation format, you have packed a book or two to reach maximum relaxation. So here you lay, on the queen-sized bed feeling like royalty with a book hovering over your face. Your phone lays beside you on Do Not Disturb mode. Royalty doesn’t feel obligated to respond, so neither should you for this weekend away. Still, you check it periodically to make sure no one’s dying.
Sudden noise alerts you that the other group has arrived. Saerom rushes through the bathroom.
“Should we go say hi? Scout out the cute ones? I’ll let you pick first dibs.”
You grin, setting the book down and following her anticipating footsteps. She peeks out into the living room, greeting them joyously. Before you analyze faces, you take a headcount. One, two three, four. Four boys. That’s kind of intimidating-holy shit is that Chan?
The moment your eyes fall on him, your heart skips at least two beats. His eyes catch your stare. You’re sure he sees the abrupt shift of your expression because he offers a small, apologetic smile. Then, in case that’s not enough, he mouths, “Sorry.”
You break eye contact, glancing to Saerom for advice, but she’s busy introducing herself.
The other boys are named Bambam, Minghao, and Seokmin. Against your own thoughts, they seem rather nice. Not outwardly frat-esque. Chan keeps trying to steal your attention, but you keep your eyes glued to the one talking, nodding along to his words, and playing your best acting role.
In the moment of silence, you say, “Well, I’m gonna head back to my room and get some reading done. It was nice meeting you all.”
The boys chorus their regards before you sneak back into the hallway. Shutting the door behind you, you take a deep breath. It offers temporary calm. You grab your phone as a distraction. Noticing Felix has sent you a Snapchat, you rush to open it. It’s a screenshot of his location tracker that shows you and Chan being in the same place. Beneath the picture is an array of question marks.
You quickly type back: I had no idea he’d be here. Saerom got a dual boarding bc it was cheap. What are the chances of this??
One in a million, you think. Likely less than that, if we’re being realistic. You’re three hours away from Seoul. How? Just how?
Lee Felix: Hmm. You sure he’s not your secret boo or something?? Seems pretty convenient
Felix’s words trigger a light switch in your brain. Angrily, you scroll down to Hyunjin’s contact and click the call icon. You hold the phone to your ear, impatient at every ring that echoes.
When he fails to answer, you leave a frustrated voicemail to call you back when he can or text you at the very least.
At the same time, Saerom texts you.
Lee Saerom: Holy shit?? Is that the guy you slept with at the beginning of the year? The super rude one who scoffed at your Eggos offer??
You text back a simple frowning emoji, and she understands instantly, apologizing profusely. She swears she didn’t know.
You: No, it’s okay. I know you couldn’t have known who the group would be. I’m just gonna be avoidant and it’ll be okay, but don’t let me ruin your vacation. Socialize!!
Really, you try to be genuine. Maybe you won’t even have to avoid him. Maybe he really just feels bad. As Felix said, he probably just didn’t know what to do. Everyone has their moments.
Lee Felix: Remember what I told you, okay?
It’s like he can read your mind. You’re typing a response back when there’s a knock on your door. Your eyes shoot up. The sound echoes in your ears as you realize who’s on the other side. You keep quiet, drafting your text back to Felix when the knock repeats. Again, you stay silent; but, the knocker persists.
You start for the door, swinging it open. “What?”
Chan’s fist is hovering to knock again, and his eyebrows jump in shock when he acknowledges that you stand before him. His arm falls to his side. “Can-Can I come in? I just want to talk about…you know.” He nervously looks to his feet, then up to your stony eyes, and then back down.
There are mean words waiting on the tip of your tongue, but Felix’s heavy voice rings in your ears and you sigh, stepping out of the way and quickly waving him in.
His shock intensifies at this, but he steps inside. You close the door behind him and turn to look at him, arms crossed expectantly. “Go on,” you urge.
“Look, I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t present myself in a way I would proudly do now, so I would like a redo if you would graciously allow me that,” he spits the words out in a hurry.
You’re only doing this because of Felix. Kind, beautiful Felix who has never intentionally hurt you, and thus you trust his judgment, despite your inner contradicting thoughts. Sticking a hand out, you say, “I’m Y/N, very nice to meet you. And you are?”
He takes your hand in his, “Chan. A pleasure to formally meet you in a sober state in which I’m not a douche.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you smile, playing along.
“Right, I don’t know what I’m talking about either,” he laughs, and his dimples are on full display.
Chan stays for a bit longer, sitting next to you on the foot of your bed. You learn that he’s a hopeful actor, but in substitution for his lost time, he’s studying law. He only goes to the gym when Changbin fears he’s too involved in his studies, by means of distraction.
You were wrong about him. In all ways but one: his beauty is strikingly overwhelming. When he talks, you catch yourself glancing down at his lips with a weird sense of hope. In your defense, you’ve already reached peak intimacy with him so there’s no point in acting like attraction requires levels of achievement.
Some people have to be friends first. Some people skip that, and that’s decently fine. Friends to lovers? Overdone in your book. Failed hookups to lovers? It’s new. This is the path that you wish to explore, but you still want to admire the beauty along the way.
V.
In the morning, you sneak into the kitchen to make breakfast. Plans abruptly change when you see the boy on the couch nearby. A blanket pulled to his chin, his lips gently parted. Light snores escape from the gap.
Was the walk to his room really that troublesome?
You step over a forgotten throw pillow and push his shoulder. He groans, burying his face in the blanket. You try again. “Chan.”
“What?” he whines, not bothering to open his eyes.
“I’m about to make breakfast. Either endure the noise or help me.”
His sleep swollen eyes try to make out your face. “Fine. Since you ask so kindly.”
If you were to have a nickel for every time you’ve seen this man wake up, you’d have two, which doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice given the context of time between you (or lack of).
After an intense debate, you settle on French toast. You monitor the pan while Chan dips the bread into the egg mix. Perfect teams always derive from people who were recently strangers.
“The girl you came with,” Chan starts, “Saerom?”
You hum, urging him to continue.
“She’s nice. Was she at the party?”
“Which party?” you ask, though you know which one he’s talking about.
“The only party that I could be talking about. You know,” his voice trails off.
You laugh at the pouted look on his face. “I’m just messing with you. She was there. She was the one who told me your identity the next morning. And Felix was the one who notoriously spilled the beans because he just so happened to be in the group text.”
He nods, letting the information permeate. The look on his face. It begs to ask more, but he fails to act on it in time. One of his friends has blanketed the space with his presence.
“Good morning,” Minghao yawns, stretching his arms above his head.
“Morning,” you turn to him. “French toast?”
“Please.”
You still don’t know why Chan showed up again. Coincidence? Fate? Often mistaken for each other. Fate proposes an idea of hope, and getting your hopes up is a crime in the changing world we live in. You shake the idea. It’s just a coincidence. But if the path allows, you plan to travel it.
VI.
The boys decide to hit the slopes as a token of their vacation. When prompted with the notion that the check-in cabin offers loan skis and garb, Saerom shrugs and joins them. You lag behind, making up some excuse to stay home. What you really want to do is sit in the hot tub for an hour or two.
A phone call from work delays your entry. And then a call from Hyunjin (“When are you coming home? I probably look so suspicious at the ABC store right now trying to scout all of their peach shit.”). And another from Felix (“If I were a worm, would you build me a haven? No, Y/N, this can’t wait. I must know ASAP.”).
By the hour the time comes, the sun is tilting towards sunset. What was meant to be a solo relaxation is now threatened by the group’s return. Regardless, you sink into the hot tub and bask in the warmth. The view really is no joke. You look onto it for so long you lose track of time, and yet, you can’t find yourself being bored of it. The world is ever changing. There will always be something new to admire.
“Tsk. Beat me to it,” a voice says from behind you.
You jump at the sudden appearance of the intruder, splashing water everywhere as you turn to look at them.
“Don’t do that! You don’t just creep up on a girl like that!”
“Sorry,” Chan winces, offering a meek smile as further apology.
You breathe out, looking back to the sea of trees past the glass.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not particularly,” you glance back at him. There is a hint of a smile on your face, you can feel the muscles betraying the internal want to be alone.
“I will return, then,” he says, disappearing back into the house momentarily.
You check your phone in the meantime. A few texts from Felix (“Are you sure about what you said about my worm transformation?”) and one from Hyunjin—a simple picture of a cart filled with peach flavored vodka, beer, and the likes. You laugh to yourself.
“What’s so funny?” Chan asks, pulling the glass door shut behind him. You glance up. He’s in swim trunks, of course. Chest fully exposed. Collarbones. Abs.
It’s a lot to take in.
“Oh come on,” he points at your awed face. “You’ve seen me naked!”
You sputter, looking back to your phone, “Oh, shut up.”
He sits opposite you, a smug grin resting gently on his lips.
“How was snowboarding?” you ask, setting your phone back down before dunking your arms in the water. You nervously trap your hands between your thighs.
He shrugs. “It was fine. Cold.”
You chuckle. “I expected that much.”
“How about you? What did you do all day?”
“I was stuck in the dimension of phone calls for most of it. Work, Felix, Hyunjin.”
His neck vein pulses outwards as he makes a yikes face. “Let me guess: worm haven?”
You laugh and shake your head. “How’d you know?”
He struggles to get the words out in between laughing, “He asked me the same thing last week. Wouldn’t let me leave his apartment until I gave him an in-depth response on how I would structure his worm utopia and everything.”
“Sounds so very Felix of him.”
His laugh wanes into a faraway smile. Those eyes of his stare into yours like they hold the moon, and he’s always wanted to see the moon up close. He pushes himself to move towards you.
“I’m not the best with words,” he offers.
“Who says you had to be?” Your eyes linger on his lips as he draws closer. Falling back into the habit, one that doesn’t beg to be broken.
With his body virtually flushed against yours, you jump to meet him. He breathes a laugh through his nose, which tickles your upper lip. His lips feel so familiar against yours. Matched. Fated. The warmth from his body (or maybe that’s just the water) ignites a hive of buzzing bees in your stomach. Different from the butterflies associated with proximity. Bees are less archetypically beautiful, and yet they hold this specific beauty at the moment. Who would ever want butterflies when there are bees that he offers you? This is how love is addictive. Yet, you will fall for its ruses if it means kissing Chan like this. His hand reaches up from the water and cups your cheek, all the while holding you closer to him.
Despite your attempts to hold on to the moment, he pulls away. “Have you ever kissed anyone in a hot tub before?”
You shake your head, confusedly staring back at him.
“You sure? Feels like you’re a pro at this.” He leans back in, pressing a quick kiss at your lips before submitting to a longer one.
Your stomach feels warm—and you’re 99% certain it is not of fault by the hot tub.
VII.
He dedicates his night to getting to know you better, claiming that one with your capabilities should not simply slip through his fingers. Plus, tomorrow you return to Seoul. It’s only appropriate to pull an all-nighter seeing as you aren’t driving.
You lay on your bed, staring up at the blank ceiling. He beside you, though with considerable distance.
“Where do you work?”
“Confidential information,” you declare.
“Oh, come on. You’ve used that same excuse for the past three things I’ve asked you.”
You roll over to look at him. “Some things you don’t reveal before the first date.”
He squints at you, convinced, “Touche.”
You press on, “Because how do I know you’re not one of those psychos who show up at my place of work and harass me?”
“I won’t,” he shakes his head.
“How can you be so sure?”
“First of all, I’m studying law. If I wanted to stalk you, I’d do it in a way that wouldn’t get me convinced. Plus, Seungmin’s a law student. He’d kill me or any of his friends if we tried something like that, and he’d especially kill me if I tried to abuse the law.”
“Seungmin’s a law student?”
He nods.
“A gossip-loving law student. Seems oxymoronic, doesn’t it?” you laugh.
“You’re right, but I hope you know we’re going to be his favorite spectacle for a while,” he chuckles, reaching an arm around you and pulling you closer.
You melt into his touch. “Can I blame him? Not really. We are a spectacle.”
VIII.
The morning you leave, you get Chan’s number and text him the whole ride home.
“What are you smiling at?” Saerom glances between you and the road before you, a teasing smile of her own on her lips.
“Nothing.” Your voice is that gross, nasally intimate kind. Part of you hates it, but another piece of you loves the thrill. Right now, the concept of being with someone is still a game. Nothing is set in stone and nothing is serious. You are navigating things at your own pace, just the way you want it to be.
Saerom drops you off at your apartment, and you thank her for the getaway.
“Anytime you need, just call me and I’ll book us a place. Keep me in the loop with Chan,” she winks.
Despite shooting her a threatening look, a smile creeps onto your lips. You wave her off as you advance toward the building, suitcase in tow. You greet the doorman with a bouncy nod of acknowledgement. His eye curiously follows you, but he fails to question you by the time you step into the elevator.
A call disturbs your silence.
You glance at the contact. A smile graces your face.
“Hello?”
“Are you coming to my party this upcoming weekend? I know you’re home because I’ve been ardently supervising your location.”
You suck your teeth. “Hmm. I might have plans.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Hyunjin groans.
Once the elevator doors allow, you step into the hallway and follow it until your door. Pressing the phone against your shoulder, you struggle with the key. “I’m playing. I’ll show.”
If he had continued to ignore your calls, you might have been serious about skipping another one of his parties. As it turns out, Hyunjin knew Chan was going on vacation at the same spot but didn’t mention anything to you or him. He simply sat back and watched like a man graced with playing Cupid on one special occasion, armed with precious secrets he couldn’t reveal until his accidental plan followed through. As for Felix, he was out of the loop too. Simply a coincidence that he used the same words as Hyunjin.
Coincidences are weird, aren’t they?
“Sweet. Knew I could count on you.” He blows kisses through the phone before returning you into the world of quiet. After the weekend, it’s peacefully comforting. The vacation was relaxing, but Chan and his friends were a little loud. Especially when video games entered the mix.
Tired, you rest the suitcase by your bed before throwing yourself on the mattress. You wrap your arm around your midriff, expanding the illusion of someone else’s arm. Within minutes, you are completely out. Who knew car drives could be so draining?
When you wake, there are texts waiting for you. Saerom announced she made it home safe with only an almost minor crash at the intersection by the city’s huge grocery store—infamous for its dangerousness. A selfie from Chan and Felix. Below it, Chan sends a saccharine text regarding how excited he is for the next meeting with you. Your stomach swells with glee.
IX.
The week drags on. Mundane workdays that stretched into your free time. Winddown time went into napping. You barely had time to interact with your friends.
But, the weekend is here. As you promised, you will make an appearance at Hyunjin’s party. Chan will be there too, so that means you must devote special care to your evening look. You call in the big guns (Saerom and Felix) to aid your search for the perfect outfit.
They sit at the foot of your bed while you stand before your closet of options.
“So, are you and Chan gonna,” Saerom hesitates before gesturing a finger into a hole established by the okay signal.
“No!” you shout. Heat rises to your cheeks and, oh my god, is this embarrassment? You’ve never been ashamed of your sex life before. Why now? This is the danger of becoming attached.
Felix’s shoulders shudder in a failed attempt to suppress laughter. “Chan’s favorite color is black. Not that you’re dressing for him or anything.”
You rush to agree. “Right.” Meekly, you add, “I’m dressing for me.”
Neither of them believes you, but they help you nonetheless. Saerom points at your closet. You follow her aim to an article that has been left forgotten since the fateful party. “Isn’t that what you wore to the New Year’s party?”
You turn back to her, dumbfounded but forcing a nod.
She tilts her head in contemplation. “Hmm.” She makes her plotting thoughts known. All she needs is someone to question her before she continues.
“What are you thinking?” Felix beats you to the punch.
Pleased that someone has fallen into her trap, she confidently states, “If it worked the first time, it’ll work again.”
You stare at her. She has a point.
“What if he thinks I’m some weirdo who only owns one dress even though I actively attend these hustler parties?” you ask.
Felix shakes his head, almost with the same intensity as someone who’s offended. “He wouldn’t think that. If anything, he’d just be like ‘wow this girl has a favorite dress and it looks good on her.”
“Plus he said he didn’t remember meeting you before the sober wakeup anyway,” Saerom jumps to add.
“Drunk him liked the dress, so sober him will too,” Felix assures.
This is all the convincing you need. The dress does look good on you. And it’s one of your favorites. A black bodycon dress has never failed you, so you hope that fate does not change tonight. You can pair it with those thermal tights to combat the outside chill.
You smile gratefully at your friends. “Thanks. Wish me luck, then.”
X.
Per usual, Hyunjin’s large house is a staple for college students seeking a fun time. It helps that Hyunjin has connections as his recent alma mater. And his roommate, Jeongin, is still a junior. The kitchen is crowded with beer pong games and chatting groups. You stalk into the living room where you last saw Saerom. Unfortunately, you don’t see her perfectly styled hair among the sea of people. However, you do catch the eye of a boy with dimples on either side of his smile. The smile broadens when he notices it’s you, and he steadily evades a conversation to approach you.
“Look at you!” he says, wrapping an arm around you while balancing a drink in his hand. He’s in casual clothes, but he still wears them as though they were businessy. With confidence and poise. His cologne is strong. Vaguely woodsy but particularly resembling the sea.
He steals away quicker than you hoped.
“Did you just get here? Do you want a drink?” he presses.
“Yeah, I just saw Hyunjin so I stopped to talk with him before I came to find you. Hyunjin’s getting me stuff from my hidden peach alc stash,” you chuckle, and he mirrors it.
“You’re on that good terms with Hyunie that he has alcohol specifically for you? Damn. Jealous.”
You shrug. “It was a bribe so I’d keep coming to these things. I feel too old to be partying with college kids. But, Hyunjin has referred to me as his ‘best friend’. So that counts for something, right?”
“Oh, definitely,” Chan trails. He glances back down to your body, quickly returning to your gaze.
“You look beautiful, by the way.”
“Thank you,” you grin. Mission accomplished. You add, reaching out to adjust how his black tee sits on his shoulders, “You look good too.”
“Psh,” he shakes his head, “I came from the gym with Changbin. So apologies if I smell bad. Sweaty.” He shudders in disgust.
“Very much the opposite, you smell nice.”
Hyunjin interrupts your conversation. Two red solo cups rest in either hand. He juts the one in his left hand out to you. “Yours.”
“The man of the hour,” Chan declares, pulling Hyunjin in a disattached friend hug.
Hyunjin sheepishly laughs. “Jeongin orchestrated this one. All him, man.”
They engage in an overbearing bro-conversation that you tune out of when you hear the word ‘gym’. Hyunjin grabs Chan’s muscles, but his words fail to permeate your ears. You zone out completely.
Until Hyunjin waves a hand before your face. “Hello? Anyone home?”
“Sorry,” you blink, taking a sip of the drink (vodka?) to regain consciousness. Chan looks at you curiously.
“I asked how your love life is going,” Hyunjin says.
You glance quickly at Chan. Playfully, you ask, “I don’t know, how is it going?”
Chan’s cheeks blister red. He shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head. “I think it’s going pretty well, but that’s how I see things. We should probably go on an official date soon, though.”
“And with that, I take my leave. Have fun, lovebirds,” Hyunjin shakes Chan’s shoulder, a means of encouragement, before stepping back and shooting you a wink. Gone he is, and thus your night begins.
“Date, huh? That’s a scary word.”
“Only if you want to,” he quickly amends.
You nod. “I’ll go on a date with you. Felix hyped you up too much, and now I’m curious.”
If it were possible, his cheeks grow lusciously more crimson. He takes a deep breath, “Right. I hope I’ll live up to the standards Felix has set for me.”
You don’t say, but he’s exceeded them so far. With this in mind, you remind yourself that all good things must come down. But, for now, you think you can enjoy the high safely. Heartbreak is merely a conditional clause of messing around with someone.
Only a few hours later, his lips are hungrily pressed against yours. Your back is against the wall of his bedroom door, and despite the liquor in your system, you are unequivocally here. In the moment. His cold hands sneak under the cloth guarding your shoulders. He breaks from your lips only momentarily to ask a simple question. “Is this okay?”
Fervently, you nod, hurrying back to the kiss. His hands move from your shoulders. They curve past your ribs, down to your hips, and land on the underside of your thighs. “Jump,” he orders huskily. Of course, you oblige. Your legs link around his hips. You steady yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck.
Despite the neighboring alcohol in his system, his walk is steady as he guides you to his bed. Gently, and never abandoning your lips, he sets you down. His palms press into the freshly washed duvet, holding himself confidently above you.
He slips away from you to remove his shirt. You reach up to trace the outline of his abs as he hovers over you.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he pants. Eagerly making out causes you to lose your breath, break a sweat. It’s a workout better than the gym could offer.
You nod. “Yes. I’m here this time. Decently sober. So at least I’ll remember this in the
morning,” you joke. He releases a breathy laugh.
“Are you okay with this?” you counter, absorbing the moment in great detail. You want to remember this. The way he looks at you. The way gravity plays with his hair, leaving it to hang off of his forehead.
“Yeah. 100%. No, scratch that. 110.”
“Alright then,” you say, snaking your hand around his neck and pulling him closer to
return his pretty lips to yours. Euphoria takes hold of your body. The buzzing bees strangle your insides.
Before you proceed, he mumbles lazily against your lips, “I’ll take you on all the extravagant dates you deserve starting tomorrow. Free up dinner so I can see you. K?”
“K,” you smile.
XI.
When consciousness meets you again, the smell of unfamiliar laundry detergent and distant cologne tickles your senses. Abruptly, your eyes shoot open. There is a moment of time in which you look around the empty room with great confusion. It passes quicker than it came.
You roll over, stretching your legs beneath the comforter as you reach for your phone.
It’s 10 AM.
There is a text awaiting you.
Bang Chan: Good morning, beautiful! Sorry I’m not there, I had an 8 AM lecture that I completely forgot about. I should be done by 11. Do you need me to bring anything on my way back?
Bang Chan: Oh btw, help yourself to any clothes you need.
You bite your nail, giddily smiling to yourself.
Before you, there is a path. An unbelievably rare and unique path, a one in a million chance of exploring it. You anticipate the flourish ahead of you. Oozing with finality, you glance behind you before taking a lavish step forward.
genre — fluff (highly inspired by his way of proposing)
warnings — none, just chan being sweet af
words — 0.5k
waves crashed by shore as you were walking with chan by the beach. it was quiet and peaceful, the sky was blue and the clouds were so fluffy to look at. your feet felt the cold water from the beautiful sea which made you wonder with a smile. it was delicate and pure, white seashells scattered on the sand and shiny pebbles were washed up with them. the wind felt so friendly as it was dancing with your hair which made chan admired your beauty even more.
he invinted you to come with him by the beach to have a picnic, saying you needed time to unwind. your boyfriend prepared everything, you ate and talk about how you were doing, the current events on his job and of course, your future with him. you planned to travel the world and make memories to cherish forever. just like how this date should become.
chan held your hand, locking your fingers together as you walk slowly beside the crashing waves. smiles on your faces as you felt the pristine feeling of how relaxing it was to spend your day off on the beach. there were no other people aside from you, it was only the sounds of nature and the voice of your boyfriend are all you wanted to hear. your barefoot felt the sand tickling as chan started to giggle. you always admire how cute he is, and you never get tired of that face even if you grow old.
you knew he was up to something.
chan suddenly stopped walking as he reached a perfect spot to have a better view of the ocean, including the trees around it and the birds flying above. he smiled at the thought of how beautiful it was, even the sun is welcoming that it didn’t hurt from touching your skin. his eyes suddenly met yours, with his smile not fading away.
“i wanted to ask you something,” he said. “we’ve been together for a while, and i cherish every second i have with you. i’ve been attached, i couldn’t bear to have myself away from you, words cannot express how grateful i am to have you in my life y/n... i wanted to have a bright future with you where i could enjoy and live without regrets,”
on one second, your heart felt so warm that made you flustered and red. no words escaped from your mouth until he kneeled with one knee and took a small box from his pocket, revealing a ring. “do you want to spend your forever with me, y/n y/l/n?” he asks as he look up to you with the wind playing with his locks.
tears fell from your eyes as your heart race faster. the amount of serotonin boost made you so happy that you kissed him on the lips before answering him.
“yes!”
chan smiled as he placed the ring on your finger, pulling you into a hug. the happiness that lies between the two of you will be felt as you spend your forever with each other.
