not so loud - dino x reader (@daechwitatamic) | friends to lovers, one bed trope, fluff, smut, slight angst
build this dream together (series) - joshua x reader (@joshujin) | f1 driver joshua x race engineer reader, fluff, angst, smut
rates of change - dino x reader (@wqnwoos) | dino x TA reader, idiots to lovers, fluff, slight angst
the tiger & the moon - hoshi x reader (@memoiresofaneternaldreamer) | circus performer hoshi x artist reader, smut, angst
statistically speaking... - mingyu x reader (@gyuswhore) | TA mingyu x reader, fluff, smut, angst
on call - wonwoo x reader (@kkaetnipjeon) | attending neurosurgeon wonwoo x resident reader, fluff, smut
slacking off - wonwoo x reader (@goldenhourology) | coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut
you've got boba eyes, dude - dino x reader (@wheeboo) | boba shop owner dino x mat racer attendant reader, fluff, slight enemies to lovers
caught in bloom, caught on you - minghao x reader (@wheeboo) | florist minghao x reader, fluff, slight angst, strangers to friends to lovers
double trouble - dk x reader x mingyu (@studioeisa) | fluff!
on the clock - vernon x reader (@sailorsoons) | coworkers to lovers, fake dating, fluff, smut
baby - hoshi x reader (@sailorsoons) | mafiaverse, childhood friends/exes to lovers, angst, smut
untitled - jeonghan x reader (@hoshifighting) | famous poker player jeonghan x famous poker player reader, angst, smut
𓏲ּ𝄢 some seventeen authors i absolutely love with similar fanfics ! :
- @sailorsoons- @studioeisa
- @haologram
- @joshujin
- @gyuswhore
- @memoiresofaneternaldreamer
part 2...
currently listening to... i don't understand but i luv u - seventeen ♫⋆｡♪ ﾟ.
after whining to chan about how bad you miss sex post-breakup, your sweet boy makes sure his noona never misses it again
WARNINGS: +18 mdni, penetrative sex, pussy eating, fingering, crying (from pleasure), mention of body fluids (cum/saliva), wrist pinning, clit stimulation, safe sex, overstimulation i guess, and pillow talk.
a/n: i love this pretty man so fucking much :( and im back, slowly but I'm back! love yall, missed you so fucking much <3 hope yall have a nice week!! not revised, 67 idk
it starts in the most ordinary way, which is probably why it stays with you longer than it should. nothing about that night was meant to change anything. it was just you and chan, like always, sitting too close on your couch, a couple of empty beer bottles on the table, music playing low enough that it felt more like a background thought than actual sound. he had come over after work, complaining about something small, you barely remembering what, and you had laughed it off, the way you always did with him, easy and expected.
chan had always been that for you. easy.
you were older, more resolved, more used to the weight of things. he was lighter, softer around the edges, still figuring himself out in ways you had already gone through years ago. and eventually, somehow, he had become your person. if anything, it showed in the way he listened more carefully than most people your age, in the way he paid attention to details others brushed off, in the way he stayed when conversations got too heavy for everyone else.
so that night, when the conversation drifted the way it did, it didn’t feel strange at first.
you were already a little tipsy, the warmth of the alcohol sitting comfortably in your chest, loosening your thoughts just enough that you stopped filtering them so carefully. he was sitting beside you, legs stretched out, head tilted back against the couch, listening in that careful way he always did, like everything you said mattered more than it probably should.
“you know what’s the worst part?” you said, staring at your bottle, turning it slowly between your fingers.
“hm?” he hummed, not even looking at you, but you knew he was listening.
“breaking up,” you continued, your voice softer now, more honest than you usually allowed yourself to be. “everyone talks about missing the person, or the routine, or whatever… but no one talks about missing the sex.”
that made him glance at you.
you didn’t look back. you just kept talking, because once you started, it felt easier to let it out than to stop.
when you finally turned your head, he was already watching you, brows slightly drawn together like he was thinking too hard about something.
“what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes a little.
he hesitated.
and that was new.
chan didn’t usually hesitate with you.
he looked down at his hands for a second, then back up “i mean…” he started, voice uncertain. “i could help you with that.”
and for a second, you thought you had heard him wrong.
you blinked. “what?”
he let out a small breath, like he was already regretting saying it, but he didn’t take it back. instead, he looked at you properly this time “i’m just saying,” he continued, slower now, choosing his words more cautiously. “you don’t have to… miss it. if you don’t want to.”
you stared at him, trying to process what he had just said, but your mind kept getting stuck on the same thing. he wasn’t joking. there was no teasing tone, no playful smile, no easy way to brush it off and laugh like you usually would.
he meant it, and suddenly, you were very aware of how close he was, how his knee was almost touching yours, how his arm rested along the back of the couch, just behind you, how his eyes hadn’t left your face since he said it.
“chan…”
he swallowed, and you noticed it “i know it sounds weird,” he said quickly, a small, nervous laugh slipping out. “i just— i thought… you know. we trust each other. and it wouldn’t have to be a big deal or anything.”
you let out a slow breath, your heart beating a little faster than it should, because the thing is, he wasn’t wrong. you did trust him, more than most people.
“you’re serious…”
“yeah,” he answered, just as quietly.
you looked at him again, and it hit you in a way it hadn’t before. chan had always been attractive, in that effortless, boyish way you had never let yourself think too much about. it had never mattered, because he was yours in a different way, untouchable in that sense. and it unsettled you, not because it felt wrong, but because it didn’t feel as impossible as it should.
“and then what? we just… go back to normal?”
he hesitated again, but not for long “if that’s what you want,” he said. “yeah.”
you studied him for a moment, searching for something in his expression; doubt, hesitation, anything that would make this easier to dismiss. but all you found was sincerity, because now the choice was yours. you leaned back against the couch, your head resting where his arm was stretched out behind you, and neither of you moved away.
“you’re insane,” you murmured, but there was no bite to it.
he huffed out a quiet laugh. “i’ve been told.”
you closed your eyes for a second, trying to gather your thoughts, but they refused to settle into anything clear. then uou opened your eyes again, turning your head slightly until you were looking at him.
“you really thought this through?” you asked.
he gave a small shrug, “more than i should have, probably.”
and just like that the air between you two shifts thick and heavy like the room itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to say yes or no. but you dont say shit, you just look at him this easy boy who’s always been your safe place, and something in your chest cracks open. because it feels too real too ordinary to be this charged.
the way his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower, like he’s been thinking about this longer than he let on. you swallow hard heart hammering stupid in your ribs and mutter “okay chan fuck it show me what you got” your voice casual but your thighs press together a little, because you’re already wet just from the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing that matters right now.
he doesn’t waste time, doesn’t make it weird or movie perfect, he just leans in slow his hand sliding up your thigh under the hem of your loose shorts. the calluses on his fingers rough in the best way scraping lightly over your skin, making you shiver and think; shit this is chan, your chan, the one who brings you coffee without asking.
and now his breath is hot against your inner thigh as he tugs your shorts and panties down in one go, leaving you bare on the couch cushions the cool air hits your pussy, and you feel yourself clench around nothing, already dripping a little because your body’s been waiting for this even if your brain’s still catching up.
he settles between your legs on his knees like it’s the most natural thing in the world, pushing your thighs wider with those big hands, his thumbs digging in just enough to keep you open and exposed, and you watch him watch you. his eyes dark, but still soft around the edges, like he’s checking if you’re okay and that does something stupid to your inside.
he dips his head and drags his tongue flat and slow up your slit, collecting every bit of your slick in one long lazy lick, the wet heat of it makes your hips twitch, and a low “oh shit” slips out of you, because fuck it’s better than you imagined.
the way his tongue feels smooth and warm pressing against your folds, parting them like he’s savoring the taste of you. he moans right into your pussy, the vibration buzzing straight to your clit, making your breath catch.
he does it again, slower this time, circling the tip of his tongue around your entranc, teasing the sensitive skin there before sucking gently at your folds. the soft wet pull of his mouth creating this obscene little suction sound, that fills the room louder than the music still playing low in the background.
and you can hear how wet you are already, the slick sounds of his tongue lapping at your juices like he’s drinking you down, not rushing, his lips seals around your clit and he sucks harder, the pressure building perfect, and filthy the way your clit throbs under the suction like it’s being pulled into the wet heat of his mouth, makes you feel that familiar burn starting low and sharp. the good kind that makes your toes curl against the couch.
he flicks his tongue fast, then slow, alternating between tight little circles, and broad flat strokes that drag over your swollen nub. leaving you gasping as your hand flies down to fist in his hair tugging hard, because chan knows exactly how to work you, like he’s studied every little reaction you might give, and the strangled moan that rips from your throat is nothing like the ones you’ve made alone.
your mind’s spinning, because this is supposed to be just helping out, but it feels too fucking good. the constant schlick schlick of his mouth slurping up your arousal that’s leaking down your thighs, makes you drip onto the couch, but you don’t even care because he’s humming against you like he loves the taste, and it vibrates through your whole pussy making your walls flutter around nothing.
in a blink, his fingers are there. two of them thick and calloused sliding through your folds easily, he pushes one in first slow and deep curling it just right to rub against that spot inside you, that makes your vision blur. the sound it makes is so fucking wet, a loud squelch as he pumps it in and out lazy at first, letting your juices coat his hand completely before adding the second finger.
he's stretching you open, and the burn is perfect, that slight sting mixing with the pleasure as he scissors them apart then curls, both hooking them deep and dragging back out over and over. the rhythm matching, the way his tongue’s still sucking your clit like he’s trying to pull an orgasm right out of you, his fingers thrusting faster, the wet squelching sounds getting louder and messier every time he buries them to the knuckle.
you’re grinding down on his face without thinking, hips rolling chasing that pressure, because it feels too real, too good, the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, dripping down his wrist, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull back, even when you tug his hair harder.
“chan fuck right there don’t stop” your voice all broken and desperate.
he gives the kind of head that ruins you for anyone else, the kind that’s messy and real and so fucking intimate you feel it in your chest too, not just between your legs.
he pulls back just enough to breathe, hot against your soaked pussy, his chin shiny with your juices and he looks up at you eyes half-lidded, you can see the bit of tiredness in his breath, but he looks like he is far from stopping now.
“you taste so fucking good…” he murmurs, before diving back in tongue fucking into you now alongside his fingers, the combination making your back arch off the couch a choked moan tearing out of you as the wet sounds turn even filthier the constant slick slide of his tongue and fingers working you open.
he pushes you closer and closer and you’re lost in the way your body’s reacting so honest, the burn in your clit from his relentless suction, the deep ache building low in your belly from his fingers curling just right, every thrust dragging more of your wetness out with those loud obscene squelches that make your face heat up, but ends up turning you on even more.
why?
because it’s him doing this to you, your chan, making you fall apart on your own couch like it’s nothing. and you know deep down, this isn’t going back to normal, not after the way he’s devouring you like he’s been starving for it.
your body locks up tight without warning. the orgasm crashes through you like a goddamn wave you didn’t see coming. your back arches clean off the couch, thighs clamping around chan’s head as that deep burn in your clit explodes into white-hot sparks.
his tongue still suctioned hard around your swollen nub, pulling every last drop of it out of you, and you cum messy and loud, a broken “oh fuck, chan—” ripping from your throat while your pussy clenches and flutters hard around his fingers, gushing warm slick all over his chin and mouth.
he moans right into your cunt, loud and deep, like he’s the one falling apart too. his voice vibrating through your pulsing walls, making the aftershocks hit harder. you feel every lick, every swallow as he eats you through it, greedy and filthy, not pulling away even when your hips jerk and twitch, because he’s drinking you down like he can’t get enough.
the way your mind blanks out completely, just pure heat and mess, and the thought that this is your easy safe chan, now tongue-deep in your pussy moaning like he’s starving for your cum. that alone makes you cum a little harder, he keeps licking you soft and slow through the comedown, his moans turning into these satisfied little hums while your chest heaves and your thighs tremble around his ears.
the second he feels your body start to relax, the tension easing out of your muscles, he’s already moving. no time for you to catch your breath or float down gentle.
he sits up quick, his chin shiny with you, his eyes dark and blown wide, and you watch hazy as he reaches down, unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other still stroking your soaked folds like he can’t stop touching you. the metal clink sounds so ordinary against the wet mess between your legs.
he leans sideways, grabbing his backpack off the floor beside the couch, rummaging fast until he pulls out a condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth while his free hand shoves his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip. and you’re still blinking through the fog of your orgasm when he rolls it on quick and messy, not even giving you a second to process before he’s back between your thighs, lining himself up.
your eyes fly open wide the moment you feel the blunt head of his cock push against your dripping entrance, and you arch hard, a needy mewl slipping out as he's right there, pushing in, stretching you open while your pussy’s still fluttering and sensitive from cumming.
the continuity of it hits you so fucking hard, that full heavy slide right after your orgasm making your walls clamp down around him, greedy and wet. you look up at him then, and his perfect abs are clenching tight with every slow thrust, his shirt rucked up just enough to show the way they flex and roll under his skin. his eyes rolling back a little as he bites down hard on the inside of his mouth, trying to keep it together, and you feel it all, the burn, the stretch, the way he fills you so good it makes your toes curl again.
you mewl at him all sly and breathy, “let me feel you, channie.”
he doesn’t even hesitate. he grabs your hand quick, sliding it up under his shirt right over those warm clenching abs, letting your palm drag across the hard ridges of muscle while he leans down over you, his chest pressing close.
his mouth is on yours, swallowing the loud moan that rips out of you the second he bottoms out deep. the kiss is messy and desperate, muffling how fucking loud you get because the stretchand the way his cock throbs inside your still-spasming pussy is too much, balls deep buried inside you, while he's kissing you stupid while your nails dig into his abs and your hips roll up to meet him like you never want this ordinary night to end.
every second surprises you, like he’s reading your body better than you ever could. right when you think you’ve caught your breath from that first deep thrust, chan grabs both your wrists in one big hand and locks them above your head against the couch cushion, pinning you down easy and firm. his other palm slides flat over your lower belly, pressing hard right where his cock is buried inside you, and fuck the pressure skyrockets.
you feel him thicker, deeper, the head of his dick dragging against that spot with every tiny movement, like he’s molding your insides around him on purpose. your eyes squeeze shut and a broken sob slips out, tears already pricking hot at the corners because it’s too much and not enough all at once.
“chan— oh my god,” you choke, voice cracking into nothing but wet mewls.
you can feel it in the way his hips snap harder, grinding that perfect pressure against your belly from the outside while he rails you from the inside, like he wants to erase every lonely night you spent missing this exact feeling. every thrust punches the air out of you, wet slaps echoing loud between your bodies, your slick coating his ballsack and dripping down your ass with every pull back. your pussy flutters and squeezes around him so tight it almost hurts.
he leans down close, lips brushing your ear, and gives you that pretty white smile you’ve seen a thousand times, only now it’s filthy and soft at the same time. “i know, baby,” he murmurs in the prettiest voice, all low and sweet and a little breathless, like he’s savoring the way you fall apart for him. “i know it’s good. gonna make sure you never miss this shit again.”
before you can even try to answer, he pulls out sudden and smooth, flips you over like you weigh nothing, and yanks your hips up so you’re on all fours. your knees sink into the couch, ass up, back arched, and he’s sliding back in before you can whine at the loss.
the new angle hits even deeper, his cock dragging along your walls with every brutal thrust, your pussy taking him so loud it fills the whole room.
you can only mewl, over and over, face buried in the cushion, tears slipping free now “s’good— chan, s’good, please— s’good—”
he laughs soft and fond behind you, that same lovely voice wrapping around the words as he rails you harder, hips snapping in strong rolls “yeah? that’s my girl. just take it, baby. let me fuck all that missing right out of you.” his abs clench tight every time he bottoms out, balls slapping wet against your clit, and you’re crying into the fabric, body shaking, this night just turning into the kind of sex that rewires your brain, and chan’s the one doing it with that stupidly sweet smile and those relentless hips.
you don’t even remember what you were complaining about anymore. all you know is his cock, his hands, his voice telling you he knows, and the way your pussy keeps gushing around him like it never wants him to stop.
it tightens in your belly again without any warning, that familiar coil pulling so fast and so fucking tight you’re actually impressed by how quick another orgasm is already building up, like your body’s been starving for this exact feeling and chan’s the only one who knows how to unlock it.
you don’t even moan anymore. your mouth just drops open in a wide, silent ‘o’, eyes squeezed shut as hot tears slip down your cheeks and you sob without sound, the pleasure so overwhelming it steals every noise right out of your throat. your whole body shakes on all fours, knees sinking deeper into the couch while chan keeps railing you from behind.
his hand sneaks under you then, sliding between your trembling thighs, and he sinks his fat cock completely inside you in one hard thrust, bottoming out so deep the pressure in your belly spikes even higher. his fingers find your swollen clit and start flicking it fast, tight little circles that make your vision spark white. “that’s it, baby, cum on my cock, let me feel you.”
you can’t even answer, just sob silently into the cushion as the orgasm rips through you hard and sudden, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice, squeezing and fluttering so tight it drags him right over the edge with you. he groans deep in his chest, hips stuttering as he cums hard inside the condom, thick pulses you can still feel through the latex while your walls milk him for everything he’s got.
your arms give out completely after that. you can’t even keep yourself on all fours anymore, you just collapse belly-down onto the couch, face buried in the cushion, ass still slightly up because he’s still buried inside you, breathing hard against your back.
chan stays there for a second, chest pressed to your spine, then he lets out a soft little scoff under his breath, quiet enough that he thinks you won’t hear it, like he’s trying so hard not to make you feel embarrassed about how fast and how hard you just fell apart for him.
but you do hear it, and it makes something warm bloom in your chest because it’s so fucking him. he pulls out slow and careful, already reaching for something to clean you up like this was never supposed to be a big deal, even though both of you know it just changed everything in the best goddamn way.
[...]
after the quick bath you two took, with chan’s arm wrapped tight around your waist the whole time because your legs were still wobbling like a damn newborn deer, you both ended up freshly showered and completely naked under the fat, hot, white duvet. the room smelled like your coconut soap mixed with his skin, and the only light came from the stupid little lamp on the side table that you always forget to turn off.
you were curled into his chest, one leg thrown lazily over his thigh, his arm heavy and warm around your back, like he couldn’t stop touching you even now.
you felt boneless and floaty while kssing him, pussy still tingling from everything he did, a lazy throb between your legs that made you shift a little closer. the kiss slows down naturally, like neither of you is in a rush anymore. his mouth moves against yours with a patience that makes your chest ache. you can still taste him, still feel the warmth of him. by the time you both pull back, it’s only enough to breathe, your foreheads brushing, noses barely touching, lips still ghosting each other like neither of you wants to let go fully.
“hey,”
you tilt your head slightly, just enough to look up at him. “hm?”
his fingers pause for a second, then resume, slower this time. “i need you to know something.”
you don’t say anything, but you feel your chest tighten a little, your attention sharpening.
“this… tonight,” he continues, searching for the right words, “it wasn’t just me trying to help you feel better… or distract you or anything like that.”
you study his face.
“i care about you,” he says, more quietly. “a lot more than i probably should.”
you let out a small breath, your cheek still pressed against him, but your eyes don’t leave his.
he gives you that small smile, the one you’ve seen a hundred times, his hand comes up to brush a damp strand of hair away from your face, his thumb lingering just slightly against your cheek.
“i’m not… using you,” he adds, almost like he needs to make it clear. “that’s not what this is for me. you’re not just… this.” he gestures faintly between you, then lets his hand settle back against you.
you swallow, your throat tight in a way you weren’t expecting.
“you’re the person i go to,” he continues, “when my day’s bad. when something good happens. when i don’t feel like being around anyone else. you’ve been that for me for a while.”
you shift slightly, your fingers curling lightly against his side, grounding yourself.
“i like you,” he says, more simply this time. “not just like this. just… you.”
there’s a pause, but it’s not empty. you lift your head a little more, your faces closer now, your breath mixing with his. your nose brushes his, and for a second neither of you moves. “i just didn’t want to go back to pretending,” he adds, almost under his breath.
your chest tightens again, but this time it’s warmer.
“and what are you asking for?” you ask.
he looks at you properly now, his expression open in a way that makes it impossible to look away.
“more than just tonight,” he says. “if you want that too.”
your gaze drops for a second, your thoughts catching up to you, then you look back at him.
“you’re serious,” you say.
“i am.”
you let out a slow breath, your hand shifting slightly against him. “and if i say no?” you ask, not because you mean it, but because you need to hear it.
his expression softens even more. “then nothing changes unless you want it to.”
that answer sits with you. you lean in without overthinking it, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. it’s slower this time. when you pull back, you stay close, your forehead resting against his. “you make this very hard to ignore,” you murmur.
he smiles faintly, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek again. “that’s kind of the problem, yeah.”
Omg I love your works so much and I just saw your bts post on the trend of where like husbands come up behind their pregnant wife and lift their bellies to like help with the weight (?) and I would love to request if your could write one for svt (thank youu)
warnings: mdni, 18+, fluff, husband! svt x reader, pregnant! reader, softness, comfort, pet names, etc.
A/N: Y'all, I know nothing about pregnancy lmao, so your girl tried. [not proofread yikes]
SEUNGCHEOL - You were irritated, but not really, actually, maybe. Your hormones seemed to be flipping back and forth between the little annoyance of feeling your lower back ache by just standing, and the awe that you were actually growing a baby inside of you.
Right now? Annoyance prevailed, and your waddles throughout your home didn't help convey your simmering feelings.
You huffed, puffed, and pouted your way to the kitchen in search of something that could soothe you. You were hoping to find sweets, maybe dessert, but much to your added aggravation, you found nothing.
You bristled, already thinking about the offense you'd feel having to drive yourself to the nearest grocery store, and the fact that you'd have to see people while feeling like the size of a whale.
And that's how your husband finds you.
You were stewing in your thoughts, arms crossed with an adorable pout that makes him want to provoke you into something worse, just because he found it so cute - but survival instincts kicked in first, and he gently moved closer. "How are my babies doing?"
Seungcheol asks this while hugging you from behind, his palms sliding under your round stomach, and automatically picking up the extra weight without a second thought.
Your dull ache minimizes, and so do your negative feelings, your body naturally relaxing into your husband's. "It'd be better if you order dessert to our house in the next twenty minutes."
Your husband laughs, his kiss sweet against your shoulder as he nods his head in agreement.
Whatever you want, he's happy to provide, but he's going to hold you the whole time.
JEONGHAN - Jeonghan is staring at you, but that's pretty normal.
He always seemed to stare at you even back when you two were just dating, but now that you're pregnant with his kid?
"You could take a picture, y'know?" You teased. You had just stepped out of the shower, still naked, as you met Jeonghan's eyes through the mirror.
He was looking at you with soft eyes, a little smile playing on his lips as he leaned against the doorframe that led to your shared bedroom.
"And who said I haven't?" Jeonghan mused, earning an affectionate eyeroll from you. You felt normal, just bigger, rounder - especially in the stomach and breasts, but that was a given. Your body was changing, growing, and it made sense why your husband would stare lovingly.
He always told you that you were glowing, but you're pretty sure it's just him developing dad-brain. So, you shake your head, continuing your after-shower routine as your husband watched.
But it wasn't long before his self-control waned and he came up closer, grabbing your full hips as you combed your hair. His hands rubbed, massaging your hips, your waist, up to your breasts - giving them a squeeze. "So pretty," he praised, and your cheeks flushed as he dipped lower towards your round stomach.
When he lifted your belly softly, his arms flexed, holding the weight you carried daily now as his kid grew and his eyes softened even more.
"I love you."
JOSHUA - Ever since you got pregnant, you couldn't get your husband's hands off of you. He had become glued to you like your own personal bodyguard who had to have his hand on you somewhere, anywhere, at all times.
You wanted to go grocery shopping? Joshua had his large hand on your lower back, slowing his steps to your adorable waddle as you insisted on pushing the cart yourself.
You were washing dishes after a lovely dinner for the two of you? He's drying the clean dishes right next to you, his biceps brushing your shoulder every few seconds like your personal bubble was his.
He'd always accompany each touch with a compliment, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you. It had seemed your pregnancy had only made him more smitten as time went on, and you were definitely not complaining. Especially when he'd twirl you around in his arms, his hands coming down to your stomach to caress as he pointed his next compliments to his child with soft eyes.
He'd tease your kid that they needed to be nice to you while you carried them, and like your kid could hear their dad, you felt your baby stretch into your ribs. "Oh, already doing the complete opposite, they must be yours." You teased, and Joshua rolled his eyes with a happy grin.
"More like they're like their mama, stubborn." He bantered, and his hands lowered, lifting your growing stomach with ease. His forearms flexed, and the weight on your hips eased, letting you melt back into your husband's chest with a happy noise.
"If I recall correctly, I'm pretty sure you told me you liked my stubbornness." You mused, and Joshua's little scoff of laughter tickled your neck before he gave the curve of your ear a soft peck.
"Yeah, and I will be lucky if my kid inherits anything of yours. Whether it's stubbornness or just your love, I'll love you both with all my heart."
JUN - Jun's love language had always been acts of service.
It didn't matter if he came home from a long, exhausting day at work; the moment he saw you, he'd drag you onto the couch with him, your feet pulled onto his lap, and ask you to tell him about your day as he started to massage the curve in your foot.
That was just who your husband was. Caring to a default, and he'd become even more doting when you two had found out you were pregnant.
Suddenly, it went from foot massages to him insisting he could take care of the chores. He'd already taken out the trash, you had deemed that a "boy job", and as you moved into your third trimester, he had become more stubborn in taking on your chores too.
It was like you were some delicate flower when you only felt like an elephant with how much your body changed as your baby grew, and Jun was nothing but loving every step of the way.
He never complained when you stole his pillow to use under your back when you two slept; he never said anything when you woke him up at three am, craving something that brought you out of your sleep and close to tears until he gave you a soft kiss, letting you know he'd get it for you, no matter what time it was and how much sleep he had.
He'd do anything for you, so when he notices that you hold your stomach every now and then, a little discomfort displaying on your face, he turns to the internet to figure out what's going on.
He finds his answer in the first link he's shown, and his eyes soften as he realizes just how much you had to deal with, even when he tried to make everything easier for you.
So, he does his best to help more.
It becomes routine for him to seek you out whenever you two are home, or even when you two are out and about - he'd simply bring you close, kissing your shoulder briefly before he picked up the extra weight in your stomach with his two hands.
It never failed to make him grin as you melted in his arms, sighing in relief as he held you, and he would stay like that for as long as you'd let him before you two continued with whatever you had been doing prior, but not before you gave him another kiss as a thank you.
HOSHI - "Just five more minutes," you sighed. Your eyes were closed as you spoke the words, your body tilting more into Hoshi's as you held onto his forearms. You could feel the veins that ran down to his wrists, and the way his forearms flexed along with his biceps as he held you close.
You could probably fall asleep just like this, standing up, with Hoshi holding your stomach. It's a relief you didn't know you needed during your pregnancy until your husband was telling you he wanted to try something out.
Supposedly, one of his friends mentioned this trend for pregnant women, and Hoshi all but perked up like a dog hearing their favorite words.
If there was anything, anything at all, to help you during your pregnancy, he was going to do it. He'd scoured the internet for tips for new parents, he read baby books in between work, and when he was home, he cornered you like you were going to run from him as he gave you a look that made you raise your eyebrows sceptically.
But as soon as his strong arms wrapped around you, holding your stomach, and letting the dull ache from your lower back disappear? You were putty in his hands.
"We could do more than five minutes, my love," Hoshi said softly, right by your ear, and a shiver ran up your spine as you felt his fingers flex, squeezing you affectionately. "I can do this all night, I mean- you've been doing this every day for the last six months. Let me take over for you."
WONWOO - When you approach your husband, Wonwoo's entire attention reverts to you. His eyes soften, taking in your lovely smile, the glow that he liked to claim was there way before you ever got pregnant, and then finally to your growing stomach.
His heart skips a beat, fluttering in his chest with a warmth that leaves him lost for words, before his eyes flicker back up to yours. "Hello, my love," He hums, and you get a kiss before you can greet him back. "What can I do for you?"
Ever since you got pregnant, Wonwoo had been adamant about providing for your needs even more than he already did. He was the one to go out at any time of the day for whatever your pregnancy craved. He was the one to bring your legs up to his lap, massaging your muscles until you were putty in his hands. He was the one he wanted you to turn to for anything, regardless of whether you were pregnant or not.
So, when you ask him to hold you with flushed cheeks, he can't help but smirk at such an easy request.
"Of course, my love." But before he gets the chance to reach for you, you're shaking your head, a giggle escaping as you move his hands lower.
"No, hold me here, my love."
And then it clicked, and his smile grew as he stepped closer to you.
"Oh?" He hummed, and his hands caressed your growing stomach with soft rubs, lowering until he could lift the extra weight with ease, and the relief was immediate for you. Your lips parted with a cute little "oh!" and your gasp came out before you could stop it.
His large hands barely had to flex to hold your stomach, and he watched with an amused grin as your shoulders sagged in happiness, your hands resting on his chest as you shuffled closer to your husband.
"Just for a few minutes, please." You were so cute asking him with wide blinks, and he couldn't help but lean down, kissing you with a slow kiss that had you melting even further into him.
"Anything for you, my love. I can do this all day."
WOOZI - Woozi was hovering. He was always hovering around you ever since the two of you found out you were expecting. It was like he was in fight or flight mode, trying to be there for you as a partner, but not sure how he could help you the best.
He seemed to have a permanent furrowed brow, his lips set in determination for something you weren’t entirely sure of. It was like he waiting for something, anything, with a tense body that actually distracted you from the way the baby inside your stomach was stretching its little limbs against your rib cage.
Motherhood, how magical.
Seven months along, and you felt like a whale. Your breasts were fuller, your stomach was rounder, your hips ached with your lower back - and there was your husband, hovering like you might let out a warrior cry before running away to leave him dazed and confused. It made you snort, rolling your eyes affectionately as you folded the clean laundry.
“If you’re going to be a helpful baby daddy, at least make yourself useful.” You teased, and your lover blinked, staring at you, dumbfounded for a moment.
“Huh?”
“Come here, make your hands useful for me.” You nodded your head in one direction, beckoning him closer as you folded a towel. You figured he’d either help you fold or help you put away the folded laundry. What you didn’t expect was for him to stand behind you and easily lift your stomach, instantly relieving you of the weight you carried every day now. “Oh!”
“Does this help? I saw it somewhere.”
Your head tilted back, your body naturally leaning back towards him. “Oh my god, never let me go.”
“Never dreamt of it.”
MINGHAO - You were grumpy, and you honestly didn't even mean to be. It was just everything.
You felt bloated, a little hot, a little overstimulated, a little tired, and a lot hungry. Pregnancy had been smooth sailing until you reached your third trimester, but after that, you felt a little crazy. You were ready to get a full night's sleep without a mountain of pillows to assist. Or better yet, if you didn't have to waddle everywhere. You felt like a penguin about to go exploring just to make it to your kitchen.
And you had decided no one could ever complain about back pain other than you. Your child was something you truly felt was testing your body as its own personal martial arts studio, or gymnasium, and you were ready for it all to be done.
The little app you had for your pregnancy said it was the size of a large cantaloupe, and you could feel it. Your hips and lower back ached, and that was just from standing still. So, yeah, you were grumpy, and your husband seemed to be getting the brunt of your sassiness as he greeted you with a smile.
"How are my beautiful loves?" He hummed, stepping into the kitchen to get closer to you.
Normally, you'd match his grin, give him a kiss, but all you could do was pout, stopping him in his tracks as you gave him a pointed look. "Don't even play with me right now."
Your husband was lucky you had missed the way he bit his lip to hold in his laugh, or you'd surely explode in your feelings.
Pregnancy, in his eyes, had made you even cuter than before, but he might be biased since it was his kid you were carrying. "Tell me what you need, let me take care of you." Hao mused, and you couldn't help but melt a little at his words, even if your pout remained the same.
"If you could carry your kid the rest of the way, I'd appreciate it." You didn't mean to be sarcastic, but your emotions had been a whirlwind since you woke up, and it came out before you could stop it.
Luckily for you, Minghao was your husband, and his smile only grew fonder as he moved closer. He took your words literally, and his hands wrapped under your stomach, easily lifting it, and relieving your little aches as he gave a little laugh. "Always. You just need to ask, my love, and I'll do anything for you."
Only your husband could turn your mood around in less than three minutes.
MINGYU - It has become somewhat of a routine between you and Mingyu when it was time for you to get up from wherever you may have been sitting previously.
Whether you were relaxing on the couch in the living room or simply getting out of the car, it had become increasingly more difficult now that you were pregnant. You felt bloated more towards your third trimester, and it took a lot of energy to move if you didn't get some kind of assistance.
It wasn't that you were unable to do things on your own; it was more that your face would pinch into a little wince whenever you did. The weight of your kid pressing into your ribs or back is enough to make you suck in a sharp breath and for your husband to almost insist you spend the rest of your pregnancy bedridden.
Which, if anyone knew you, that would be ridiculous - so you came up with a compromise.
Your husband, Mingyu, would become your anchor. He was always hovering around you anyway, mumbling about "need to protect both my loves." So, it became instinctive to reach for your husband's hand when getting around.
You still waddled and still insisted you could do it yourself, but nevertheless, your hand would go to his, and you were rewarded with kisses to your temple once you were standing on your own two feet.
"I know you can, but let me take care of you anyway," Mingyu murmured, and before you could rebut, his warm hands slid around your waist and underneath your stomach, lifting the weight from your hips and giving you further relief.
All sass left your body as you sighed, relaxing into your man's strong arms with a dreamy smile that matched his. "Fine, but don't let me go then."
"I wasn't planning to."
DK - Computer? How do I get my very pregnant wife out of the bathtub? She won't leave.
DK was kneeling on the right side of the bathtub, eyebrows furrowed with slight worry as he watched you. You had been in this tub of water for an hour, and you were pruning. "C'mon, Baby, get out, and I'll dry you off. Any longer, our baby is going to turn into a mermaid."
This made you snort, your lips curving up as your eyes flickered to the swell of your stomach poking out of the water. You were eight months pregnant and bath time was the only time the small ache of carrying his kid was relieved off your back and hips.
You waddled, you slept with eight pillows, and you were tired. You honestly weren't sure if you could lift yourself up, which made another round of sleepy giggles erupt from you as you stared at your husband with love. "Baby, I might just sleep here."
You watched with amusement as Seokmin brought his phone out, typing into the little screen with another furrow of his eyebrows, and you snorted at his search.
"Help me?" You asked with a grin, and Dokyeom was already snaking his hands around your hips, using a firm but gentle touch to help you. He didn't care if his clothes got wet; he was always happy to be your anchor as you leaned on him.
When you stood up, his hands naturally caressed your tummy, still in awe at how strong you were to carry his kid. And when he lifted your tummy a little, carrying the extra weight, your lips parted.
"Oh!" Dokyeom found a new favorite pastime for you, other than bath time, and he was perfectly happy with it - he wanted the extra practice before he carried his kid everywhere anyway.
SEUNGKWAN - It was no surprise that the moment your husband came home and saw you, he'd launch into a rant about his day like he'd been dying to since the moment he had to leave your side. You and he were truly best friends and lovers all wrapped up in one. You were the first person he wanted to tell anything to, and you felt the same.
It was a routine at this point that if one of you came home, you'd drag the other onto the sofa, giving a play-by-play of the day with the utmost seriousness. You got the gossip, the missed funny moments, everything - and when you became pregnant? Well, now it was a party of three.
But instead of your husband leading you to the couch like normal, he'd simply drop everything as soon as he crossed through the door and dropped to his knees before you. It had progressed to you barely getting a kiss in greeting before your baby, who snuggled into your ribs with a little annoyance for your comfort.
Seungkwan would simply kiss your growing stomach, his eyes sparkling as he flickered from your tummy to you, then back to your fuller stomach. "Have you been being nice to your mom while I was away?" He would hum, and your eyes rolled affectionately as you fought to keep your smile at bay.
"No, your little tangerine actually has been tiresome since you left - I think they know you're gone, they get restless." You teased, and Seungkwan's eyes sparkled brighter, his lips pressing another kiss to your tummy as he shook his head.
"Well, we can't have any of that." His hands move under your stomach, lifting the extra weight and relieving your hips of the little ache you got from carrying his child throughout the day. You sighed happily, and Seungkwan grinned up at you. He was still on his knees, carrying your stomach gently, and his hum was soft as he launched into his day.
He told his growing family all about his workday right in the middle of the entrance way, never once letting go of your stomach as he talked more to your belly than to you.
Eventually, you three would make it to the sofa, but for now, if he could hold you both, he didn't mind the bite in his knees as he kneeled on the wooden floors, his heart full and warmed with love.
VERNON - You don't even realize Vernon is watching you until he's suddenly right behind you.
You're seven months pregnant with his child, and it's beginning to take a toll. Mornings have become more difficult to roll out of bed. You've got at least six pillows tucked into you to try and ease the discomfort your lower back pings to you, but it's still there. It's become this little ache that accompanies you even when you waddle throughout the house.
Yes, waddle. Vernon says you don't waddle, but his opinion is now irrelevant while you carry his kid.
That's why you don't even notice him step behind you as you clean off the table. Dinner was done, and Vernon had insisted you rest while he cleaned up everything, but old habits die hard, and you're a little winded after a few swipes of the table.
"I told you to rest," Vernon murmurs softly and gently, and you're about to retort back before his hands slide around your round stomach, lifting the weight and immediately rendering you speechless.
"Oh!" You're mouth drops, and the back ache is momentarily gone as your husband holds you up.
It makes Vernon grin to see you like this, and he kisses your shoulder as you melt back into his body. "That's it, let me take care of you, Mamas."
DINO - Ever since you got pregnant, your husband has been online more than usual.
It's usually accompanied by a furrowed brow and multiple looks in your direction, but you figured he was trying to learn as much as he could about being a first-time parent. All you cared about were the actual doctor visits and the little app on your phone that told you your baby was the size of a mango today.
The thought was hard to process, but it made you motivated to eat fruit when you saw the message, so you found yourself pacing through your kitchen. You brought out fruit, the cutting board, your favorite knife, which you believed could probably cut through anything, and got to work making two bowls.
And it wasn't because you were eating for two. You rolled your eyes at the silly thought, your lips curving into a grin before you flickered your eyes to your left, where your husband had followed you.
That was the other thing: if your husband wasn't at work, he seemed to be your personal shadow, following you into each room, regardless of whether he had been in the middle of doing something.
You could feel him approach quietly, and you hummed as you put the same fruit equally between the two bowls. "I'm making you one, too."
You can hear him set his phone on the counter, his body coming closer from behind, before you feel his lips brush the back of your neck. "I saw something online-" and just as you go to ask him for more details, his large hands slide under your stomach, lifting the extra weight with ease.
The relief to your lower back is instant, and the knife falls onto the cutting board as you gasp. You can feel yourself melt in relief, leaning more into your husband as Dino grins against your shoulder.
"Does that feel good?"
Your little happy noise you make with an eager nod makes him hold you closer, his smile growing fonder by each second that passes.
대박 - you made it to the end!
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summary: a mix of different editions ~ ot13 individual sections, hyung/maknae line, multiple members, idol!reader, gym rat!svt :)
contains: sfw section may contain potential suggestive content, nsfw section contains 18+ content (mdni), majority is afab!reader
✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩
✩ sfw section ✩
❥ hyung line & maknae line (individual sections) x reader
❥ Bf!Seventeen finding out they aren't your bias hyung line | maknae line - @vernonverse
❥ accidental confession hyung line | maknae line - @minghaoes
❥ Bf!Seventeen being jealous of your female BSF and getting sulky - hyung line | maknae line- @vernonverse
❥ multiple svt members x reader
❥ college besties jihan - @suhnshinehaos
❥ double trouble (seokmin & mingyu) - @studioeisa
❥ ot13 individual sections - idol!svt x idol!reader ver.
❥ how you two met - @seuonji
❥ svt when idol!reader dedicates a song to them - @xinganhao
❥ svt when idol!reader releases a breakup song - @xinganhao
❥ svt reacts to idol!reader having dating rumors - @xinganhao
✩ nsfw section ✩
❥ ot13 individual sections
❥ the seven deadly sins hyung line - @pochaccoups
❥ how svt prefer to get you off - @rubyreduji
❥ how svt spend valentine's day with their partner - @husbandhoshi
❥ seventeen and their favourite positions - @chimivx
❥ multiple svt members x reader
❥ double fucked (vernon & dino) - @rubyreduji
❥ leaderz line polycule (seungcheol, hoshi & jihoon) - @sluttywonwoo
❥ vernon fucking you while woozi watches (vernon & jihoon) - @rubyreduji
❥ melt an igloo (seungcheol & jihoon) - @woozivrsefactry
❥ siblings or dating (jeonghan & joshua)- @bitchlessdino
❥ brat (jeonghan & joshua) - @sunflowergyeomie
❥ untitled (seungcheol & jeonghan) - @mejaemin
❥ while he's gone (hoshi & vernon) - @100vern
❥ threesome with gyucheol (seungcheol & mingyu)- @svtswhorehouse
❥ rec (seungcheol & mingyu) - @hongcherry
❥ splashed (jeonghan & joshua) - @smileysuh
❥ gym rat!svt x reader
❥ gym crush! jihoon - @svtswhorehouse
❥ heavy lifting (mingyu) - @sknyuz
❥ Gym Rat Roommate!Seungcheol - @hoshifighting
bun note: hi all!!! sorry for how like...messy this post is?? there was just a lot of genres/different editions that i wanted to get out as one so here is this monstrosity haha. eat welllll~ sleep well~ enjoy the howoo concert content (weren't they so cool?!?!?!) bye byeeee~
summary: one day, you’re buying a soft, brown fur coat from the thrift store. the next, you have a man on your doorstep claiming he’s your husband.
word count: 6.8k
warnings: selkie!dino, human!reader, references to scottish folklore but a very loose interpretation, swearing, reader is bitter, mildly depressed and very tired of life, chan is the cutest sweetest boy ever, questionable self preservation instincts, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, kinda sub!chan, oral (fem!receiving), riding, slight nipple play.
a/n: so this was loosely based on an ask i got about selkie!dino, and i really did a lot of research on selkies and came up with a plot to go w it. im sure this isn’t what anon originally wanted, but i loved the idea of selkies and i went with it ㅠ
SELKIE (n.) — from icelandic, irish and scottish lore
⦾ shapeshifters. they live as seals or otters in the sea, but shed their skin or fur to change into beautiful humans on land.
⦾ a selkie must hide their skin carefully when they walk on land, because if their skin is lost, they cannot return to the sea.
⦾ whichever human finds and keeps the skin/fur of a selkie is considered as the selkie’s spouse.
These last few weeks have been the most impressive run of insanely crappy weeks you’ve ever had.
Everything just keeps going wrong. With work, with bills, and even a petty fight with one of your closest friends. To top it all off, your last phone call with your mother went awry too, with her complaining about your schedule and you getting a little too harsh on the phone. You regretted it immediately, but now she’s a little icy with you, which only dampens your mood further.
It has just been bad overall, so this shopping trip with Seungkwan is really something you need, even if you don’t have a whole lot of money to spend.
“Oh, I like this one.”
You hold the large coat up to your chest and turn to Seungkwan so he can take a look. It’s huge, falling all the way to your knees, and the fur is dark brown, a neutral and earthy color that looks shiny and smooth. It’s very soft to touch, and you have to wonder how it ended up in a thrift store. It looks and feels so high quality.
Seungkwan tilts his head as he appraises it. “Put it on.”
You do, standing in front of the full-length mirror for a better look. You turn to assess some angles, but you’re quickly being distracted from the way it looks, focusing more on the way it feels. It’s comforting as hell, and very warm. You’re still in awe that you managed to dig up something so good from this store.
“I’m getting it.” You announce before Seungkwan can even give his opinion. You don’t know why, but you really feel drawn to this coat. Something tells you that you need to own it. And after the shit week you’re having (it’s not even Wednesday), you think you deserve this. You haven’t bought anything new in ages. If this can give you a little boost of happiness when you feel like you’re drowning, then you won’t pass that opportunity up.
It doesn’t cost a lot, considering how wonderful it feels on your skin and the fact that you’re getting your next paycheck after the weekend. You feel a positive sensation jump in your chest as you walk out of the store, listening to Seungkwan whine about something work related. You’re quickly swept up in his emotions, augmenting his words and losing yourself in the conversation. You really do need to vent, and Seungkwan is the perfect person for something like that. He matches your energy, understands your struggle since he himself is afflicted with a terrible case of jerk-boss. You feel like you are shedding off pounds and pounds of negative build-up, which you are so thankful for.
Two more workdays follow your trip with Seungkwan, and they weigh heavily on you. By the time the weekend rolls around, you are so grateful you could cry. You need this, the relief of two whole days of no work. You get home on limbs that weigh like lead. With nothing but rotting in bed in your mind, you quickly change into something more comfortable, a loose shirt and leggings. You go through your streaming services to find something to watch as you cook. Just when you’re settling on the couch to start eating your freshly cooked meal, you hear a knock on your door.
Your eyebrows furrow, confused. For one, you aren’t expecting anyone. And for another, you have a doorbell, so the fact that someone is knocking makes even more questions arise. Before you can think further, there’s another knock, more insistent this time, and you’re quickly placing your bowl on the coffee table and scrambling to the door before you can wonder about who it might be. You curse the fact that front doors in your apartment building don’t have peepholes. You carefully unlock and open the door a tiny smidge, peering outside. You blink, confused at the sight.
It’s a man. He looks young, around your age, and has a head of thick, shaggy brown hair that is falling into his equally dark eyes. You look down, and you pause at what you’re seeing. He’s wearing a sweater vest over what looks like another sweater, both terribly mismatched. And he’s wearing…. a skirt?
Yes, it’s a plaid skirt. Deep maroon. Layered over dark denim jeans. And right below them, leather sandals.
You don’t even know what to say. You look back up at the man, and this time, he’s wearing a wide smile. His eyes are wide and bright, and you’re caught off guard by how cheerful he looks.
“Hi.” His voice is fresh, chirpy. You nod your head uncertainly.
“Hello.” Your own is uncertain and damp. You hold the edge of the door tightly, bracing yourself.
“My name is Chan.” He says.
You nod slowly. “Okay.” There’s no way in hell you are telling this stranger your name.
“May I come in?”
Your jaw drops at the question. Who is this man? Why is he dressed so strangely?
“Who are you?” You can’t help but scowl. You don’t have time for this. If this is some strange sales call or something, you are not interested.
The man blinks, as if confused by the question. “I’m Chan.”
Is he stupid? You stare at him for a moment. “Look, I don’t know you and whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”
As you go to close the door, the man rushes forward, knocking his palm on the wood and stopping it in place. You freeze, feeling slightly scared now. He immediately pulls his hand away, now fiddling with his fingers and looking incredibly nervous.
“I’m your husband.”
You blink once. Twice. He doesn’t say anything more, just stares like he has told you nothing more than a fact about the weather.
“Excuse me?”
He looks just as nervous, but he nods slowly. “You took my fur. You bought it. So I’m your husband.”
You are so confused and shocked that you don’t even realise you’ve opened the door properly. You’re just holding the doorframe now, jaw dropped, an incredulous look on your face as you eye him. He shifts a little uncomfortably, swaying back and forth as he wrings his hands.
“I’m a selkie.” He babbles. “You bought my fur. I’ve been looking everywhere for it. I lost it near the pier a few weeks ago. I can’t go back without it. But I’ve found it now. It belongs to you. Which means I belong to you now. I’m your husband.”
You don’t understand more than two words out of his mouth. Briefly, you think of drugs, and you edge the door slowly closed again.
“Listen,” you say, trying to keep annoyance and confusion out of your tone to make it more soft. Maybe he will listen to you that way. “There’s a shelter just a few blocks down. I promise you will find help there. I’m sure if you ask someone, they will tell you exactly where it is.”
You wave your arm to the left in a vague gesture for direction. He just stares at you. You fidget.
“I can’t leave.” He says. “You have my fur. I belong to you.”
You are starting to get a little scared, so you shake your head vaguely as you keep pushing the door closed. “Sorry. I can’t help you.”
You close the door before he can say anything else, immediately locking it. You stare at it for a second, listening. You can’t hear shuffling, or footsteps. You wonder if he has left.
You double check the locks before moving back inside, wondering what you should do. The whole interaction has left you a little shaken. You eye your now cold food, and the paused movie on your television screen. It only makes you grit your jaw and huff, feeling annoyed again. You have enough on your plate without worrying about some weirdo at your door. You can’t let this weigh on you. It’s probably a one-off, someone who just got confused. And you did try to help him, so hopefully he takes your advice.
But you can’t focus. Even as you sink onto your couch and finish absentmindedly eating, your stare blank as you watch the screen. You can’t help but think of the gibberish he spoke. Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for your laptop, pulling it towards you and opening the search bar. Quickly, you type ‘selkies’.
There’s so much you find. Page after page of what looks like old, Scottish lore. Sketches and paintings, as well as written text. They are sea creatures, like seals or otters, that can transform into humans by shedding their skins or furs. You remember the man’s words.
‘You have my fur. You bought it.’
As you keep reading, you learn that taking a selkie’s fur means having ownership of them. It symbolises an intimate, lifetime bond. Like mates, or spouses. You recall him calling himself your husband, making an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach. Everything he said somehow makes sense. It’s fantastical, and outlandish to think it might be real, but in the context of it all, it really isn’t random words strung together. Maybe he was confusing you with someone else. Maybe they are doing some weird role play thing. You’ve seen stuff like that on the internet.
Your phone dings. You absentmindedly look at the text. It’s from the lady who lives across from you.
[minyoung apt 34]: hey. theres a man sitting outside your door. should i call someone? are u home?
You stare at the text, confusion and a small bit of realisation dawning on you. You throw your phone on the couch and stand up, quickly beelining to the door and unlocking it, pulling it open.
He is sitting beside the door, back against the wall just to your right. He looks up when you appear, blinking at you. You gape at him.
“You’re still here.” It’s more of a statement than a question.
He nods. “I can’t leave.”
The cheery, bright tone seems to have drained out of him. He sounds….. sad, almost. Unsure. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. His silly skirt is bunched up to his thighs, and the jeans are maybe two sizes too big for him. You hesitate, and then you make a very stupid decision. You brace yourself.
“Get up. Come on.”
He seems surprised, and honestly, so are you. You pull the door open more and step aside, watching him quickly scramble up. His face seems to have lightened, but he still looks apprehensive. Slowly, he walks in. You sigh deeply and shut the door behind him.
He’s looking around like he has never seen a house before. Or a living room. Four walls, pictures, a couch. His eyes are wide and beady as he stares at the television. You watch him carefully. In complete honesty, you don’t know why you invited him in. But there’s something in his voice that doesn’t ring any warning bells in your head. You’re sure your parents would have a heart attack if they heard of this, cursing at themselves and you for not instilling ‘stranger danger’ as well as they should have. But he doesn’t give you that vibe at all. When he turns to look at you again, there’s something earnest about it. Sincere.
You shift uncomfortably. “Chan, was it?”
He nods.
“And you’re… a selkie?”
His nod is even more vigorous this time.
“Okay.” You don’t know what to do with your hands. He keeps staring. “And you came here because…”
You prompt him to continue, and he does. “I’m your husband.”
You feel a flicker of irritation. “Yeah, you said that already. But I don’t know what that means.”
He frowns a little, lower lip jutting out. It’s almost cute. You shake the thought away.
“You bought my fur.”
You huff. “Yeah, I don’t know what exactly that is, but I don’t have anything of yours, buddy.”
He tilts his head, as if thinking hard. You start to regret inviting him in.
“I-it’s brown.” He says. “Dark brown. And very soft. A little heavy. And it smells like the sea.”
Your face smoothens in realisation. Wait, does he mean….?
The coat. Your newly bought fur coat. You haven’t worn it yet, since it’s a little too warm for the current weather. You’ve been waiting for a particularly cloudy and chilly day to put it on. Realisation dawns on you.
You leave Chan in your living room, taking less than a few seconds to find the thing and carry it back out. The way Chan’s face lights up at the sight of it has your heart racing. Again, you are hit with the reality of how sincere and pure he feels. No one can be this good an actor.
“You can have it.” You hold it out. “This is what you’re here for, right?”
While he looks happy to see the coat, he shakes his head, turning his bright eyes back to you. “I’m here for you.”
You feel your face heat a little, remembering the spouse and mate stuff you just looked up. You fidget where you stand, considering him.
God, your run of insanely crappy weeks just won’t end. And you really feel like you can’t deal with this right now. So you just huff and nod, feeling drained.
“Fine. But you will sleep on the couch until I know what to do with you.”
His resulting smile is so blinding, you wonder if there truly is something mythical about him.
…………………………………….
You don’t tell Seungkwan about Chan. Frankly, you’re still not sure what you will do about this whole situation, since you know that even if Chan leaves, he will just go back to sitting outside your door. He tells you as much himself. You also don’t know how supportive Seungkwan will be when he finds out that you have an unknown man living on your couch, claiming to be a supernatural creature of the sea. You honestly don’t have the energy for that lecture, or to convince Seungkwan that something deep in your chest is telling you that Chan is harmless. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, a strange reverence in his eyes, like he has never seen something more fascinating in his life. Or maybe it’s the fact that he genuinely doesn’t know anything.
You find some of Seungkwan’s and your brother’s clothes in your stuff, telling him to change into a sweatshirt and pants and to take off whatever ridiculous clothing he is wearing. He looks much better that way, more normal, but he claims to feel weird.
“Are you sure this is enough clothes?” He looks uncertain. You can’t help but feel amused.
“Yes, because you’re indoors. You can put something else on top when you go outside.”
He nods, albeit a little hesitant. But he seems to trust your judgment.
When you offer him a meal, he accepts it carefully, eyeing the bowl of noodle soup like he has never seen it before. He picks at it, and makes a face when he eats it. He tries to quickly hide it, but he can’t fake anything to save his life, so you spot it immediately, and when you ask him what he usually eats, he lists varieties of fish and shellfish you have never heard of before. You do end up buying some for him, and conveniently, you don’t even have to cook it. He eats it raw.
“You would love sushi.” You quip as you watch him eat. When he gives you a confused look, you just shake your head and wave it off, mentally making a note to take him to a sushi place sometime.
Chan tells you he has never left the water before. His pack never trusted him enough to do it, and apparently they had been right. He lost his fur very quickly, without even realising, and he has been trying to track it for weeks, claiming he can’t go back without it.
“So now that you’ve found it, you can go back.” You say, but he shakes his head.
“I can’t leave you. You’re my wife.”
Right. He keeps saying that, always in the softest tone, looking at you like you hung the moon and stars. It lights your face on fire, makes you fidget where you sit, but he is never fazed by it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It’s not like you’ve never had anyone’s romantic attention before. You have had boyfriends. Granted, most of them ended terribly. You’re still not sure if you’re completely over your ex cheating on you. But Chan is different. Hell, he’s not even human, so it’s not like you can compare him to anything from your past. Dating has always been difficult for you, and you kind of gave up on it when you moved and got hit by the shitstorm that is now your life. It was put so effectively on the back burner that you had forgotten what this felt like. Having someone like you like this.
With Chan, it’s hard to figure out how to act. You don’t know what to do with all his…… positivity. Chan feels like something untouched, untainted. He reminds you of how you were when you just moved to this town. Hopeful and ready to start your adult life. And then the universe decided to start beating the crap out of you, until you felt like you were just surviving, going through the motions.
Chan isn’t like that. Chan is….. luminous. He randomly compliments you, talking about how nice and colorful your apartment is (you don’t think it’s anything special). Or saying he likes something you’re wearing, or that your hair is pretty and shiny. Simple compliments, nothing too poetic, but he says them all with so much earnestness. He especially gets giddy when you wear his coat, saying you look best in it, patting you down before you go to work. It always leaves you hot and fidgety. You really don’t know how to handle him, or his easy affection.
Your life changes as the weeks go by.
Work is just as hectic as always. You get the mountain load of two or three people, enough to have you ready to pull your hair out. You slave away all day, dragging your feet as you finally get home, but this time, it is not to an empty house. Because Chan is there. Chan and his bright smile and his endlessly curious but simple questions. Chan with his many, many stories about life under the sea. He always notices that you’re tired, and he offers to cook for you. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he is good at following instructions. So if whatever he is cooking comes from a packet with directions on the back, he ends up making something very hearty and nice. Usually, you are so tired that you don’t mind anything he makes. You will eat it as long as you aren’t the one who has to cook it after working all day.
You complain to him that your legs get cramped up from sitting on your desk chair for so many hours. He pulls your legs towards him before you can protest, plonking them down on his lap and kneading the calf muscles. All your rejections die in your throat as soon as you feel the glorious pressure of his hands. You moan appreciatively, not noticing how Chan positively perks up at the sound, doubling down on his efforts to lessen your fatigue.
That becomes a daily occurrence.
A few weeks of Chan living with you has made you much more comfortable with him. You watch the screen with tired, bleary eyes as he runs his fingers over the soles of your feet from where he has them in his lap. It feels wonderful, as always. While you watch the TV, he watches you. He does that often, just openly staring. It used to make you uncomfortable, and you got very close to scolding him a few times. But the look on his face always makes you stop. A look of awe that you’ve never felt directed at you before. There’s nothing creepy about it, only pure, unfiltered marvel. So you just let him do what he wants.
A voice deep inside you says you don’t actually mind, you might even enjoy it, but you try not to think about that voice.
You let out a weary sigh and shift a bit, rolling your shoulders to adjust the ache in them. Chan notices, because he always notices, and he pauses his movements on your feet.
“I can rub your shoulders.” He offers.
You blink, considering it. You already know how good it will feel, but you don’t know if you want to cross that boundary. This is different, having your feet in his lap. But you don’t know how you feel about Chan’s hands all over your back and shoulders. It would feel too much like testing dangerous waters.
The truth is, you like him. He has become a breath of fresh air in your bitter and depressing days. Every day, you come home while looking forward to his company. He is so different, light, cheerful, effervescent. He talks and talks and talks, about any and everything. And it doesn’t annoy you. Never. He injects something warm in your cold, silent evenings.
You don’t have to worry with him. There’s no agenda here. He doesn’t want anything from you except your company. He takes care of you like no one has for a really long time.
Sometimes, he feels like a dream. And you perpetually carry the fear that one day, he will go away.
He’s still watching you, anticipating your reply. His hands slowly work on the arch of your foot. His eyes, that deep warm brown, pores into yours. For the first time in a long time, you can’t bring yourself to care about consequences. You just nod.
“Okay.”
He ends up seating himself beside you, coaxing you to turn your back to him on the couch. You can feel him touch your sweater before speaking again.
“Would it be better without this?”
You flush but nod, reaching down to tug the sweater off, so you’re left with a long sleeved shirt instead. You feel his touch right in between your shoulder blades. Slowly, he starts pressing into the skin over your shirt.
Chan is way too good with his hands for a creature that didn’t even have hands until a few weeks ago. He digs his thumbs into the lines of your shoulder blades, making your eyes roll as he breaks knot after knot of tension in your muscles. He purses his lips and frowns as he gets a feel of it. You hear a soft huff of breath.
“Your muscles are so tense.” He murmurs. “This only happens to me when I swim for a very, very long time. Hours and hours. With no breaks.”
You crack a little smile at the comparison.
“It feels like that sometimes.” You mumble, staring at the opposite wall while lost in thought. “Like I’m just swimming and swimming. No breaks. No end in sight.”
His touch slows, but doesn’t lose its strength. His fingers coil around your shoulders, kneading. Your eyelids flutter.
“Human lives are difficult.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but you hear him in the silence of the muted television screen. “I feel like none of you are happy.”
You purse your lips. “What makes you say that?”
Another exhale, this time almost like a defeat. “You never smile. You never laugh.”
You blink, processing. You don’t know why that is unexpected, but it catches you off guard. Your mind whirs. You think on it.
When was the last time you were truly happy?
When you try to look back on the last few months, you can’t pinpoint anything. Then, a memory floats to the surface, from just a couple of weeks ago. Chan had tried to bake something, and while he succeeded, he left the kitchen in such a mess that he was almost reduced to tears by the end. He had pouted and whined about it, saying it is ’way too difficult’ to make a cheesecake. You couldn’t help but muffle your laughter at his flour caked face.
It still makes you smile.
“You make me happy.” You say.
His hands pause. Not a falter, a complete halt. You wonder if you’ve crossed a line.
“I do?” There’s something shaky in his voice, like he can’t believe it. You just nod.
With the hold Chan has on your shoulders, he maneuvers you to turn around. You do, finally able to see him face to face. Your breath hitches at the hope in his eyes, the unadulterated happiness.
“I make you happy?” He asks again, like he just can’t bring himself to accept it.
You can’t help the lift of your lips. You nod again. “You do.”
You don’t expect him to kiss you, but you don’t stop him either. His lips are endlessly soft, and so, so eager. When you don’t push him away, he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You are hit with the very faint scent of sea salt, and it feels like you’re on the coast. Your heart squeezes. Your hands reach up, cupping his face, and you push harder into him.
Chan whines, whines, lapping at your lips like he needs them to breathe. His tongue licks into your mouth. His enthusiasm is almost too much for you. It should be a surprise, but it’s not, because it’s Chan, and he has always been like this. He hangs on to your every word like it’s law. He looks at you like you’re the mythical creature, not him. You feel his hands now, on your knees before they slide up, gripping your hips tightly. He inhales your every sigh, and something warm and electric coils in the pit of your stomach. Your hand winds in his hair. It’s soft, just the same texture as your (his) coat, and you can’t help but grip it tight. He moans openly into your mouth. It’s too much. You break away for air with a loud gasp.
It doesn’t seem to deter him, because he smooches over your cheek, your jaw, further down your neck. Your eyelids flutter, tilting your head back, your hand still in his hair. You encourage his movements. His tongue licks over your skin. He moans again.
“I want to taste every part of you.” His voice is breathless, desperate. You feel yourself clench. He pulls away so he can look at you, his eyes pleading, brighter than you’ve ever seen them. This close, you can see that his pupils are completely blown.
“Please? Can I?” His tone is shaky.
God, he needs to stop doing that. It’s making wetness pool at an alarming rate between your legs. You so desperately want him down here, it makes your hips buck up involuntarily. You don’t even think about it, all inhibitions thrown out the window. You nod.
He doesn’t let you undress yourself, gently brushing your hands away because he claims he wants to do it himself. He lays you down on the couch, hovers over you on his knees as he peels your clothes off, until you’re left completely naked under him. He watches you with so much hunger in your eyes that your face flames, and it takes everything in your power not to shrink into yourself. Truthfully, you love it, love seeing the sincere lust in his face, the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, eyes lingering over every inch of you, like he wants all of you.
Something about being so deeply desired has your head spinning.
He is true to his word. His lips trail over every inch of you. He runs them over your shoulders, your arms, even holding your hands gently to kiss the pulse point on your wrist. Every few inches, he lays a soft kiss, before going back to running his lips and tongue over the skin. He licks down the valley of your breasts, burying his face in them for a few seconds. He spends extra time on your nipples, sucking and flicking his tongue over them until they are stiff and peaked. By the time he is anywhere close to your core, you’re already gasping and trembling under him in anticipation.
Finally, finally, he spreads your legs. He stares for a long time, thumbing at your outer lips, opening your slit to the cold air, peering at your little nub, swollen and ready, neglected.
“Pretty.” He whispers. “You’re pretty all over. Every inch of you.”
You feel a pressure build behind your eyes. Fuck. You can’t be this lame. You can’t be the one crying during sex. But Chan isn’t touching you, he is worshipping you. In his hold, under his hands, you feel like something precious, something worthy of this kind of reverence. It’s an unprecedented feeling. You don’t think anyone has ever wanted you this much. Not before him.
He leans closer, and you feel his breath on your pussy as he speaks.
“This is it, right? This is where I can pleasure you the most?”
You suddenly remember that Chan isn’t really familiar with human anatomy. So far, you haven’t felt his lack of experience at all, mostly because you think his enthusiasm is so intense that it masks the inexperience completely. You nod at him, swallowing tightly.
“Yeah.”
He licks his lips. “Can I taste it?”
The words are way sexier than you thought they would be. You throw your head back. “God, yes. Please.”
Something about the ‘please’ does it for him, because he licks a long, thick stripe all the way from your clenched hole to your clit, dragging slowly over it. He hums when his tongue withdraws, just for a second, just to taste, and then he’s digging in again, flattening his tongue over and over on your slit, like he approves of the taste, like he wants more.
He’s sloppy, not bothered by the filthy wet noises your sopping cunt makes, lips and tongue running over every nook and cranny. But there’s one spot where you need him the most, and you can’t help it. You wind a hand through his hair, tugging his head up until his tongue runs just over your clit. Your hips jerk.
“There,” you gasp, “right there.”
He’s a quick learner, just like he learned to cook after just a few tries, and how to work the television and your Netflix account, and how he figured out which clothes go together. His tongue flicks eagerly over your clit, like he’s hanging on to every cry and moan that falls from your lips. He must register how the noises amp up when he pays attention to your clit, because he pushes your legs further apart, buries his face deeper into your cunt, wraps his lips around it and sucks hard. Your back arches right off the couch, gripping his hair tightly. He groans into your pussy.
It’s a cycle. His lips and tongue make you feel good, you tug at his hair in encouragement, he hums into you, and the vibrations feel even better, sending chills up your whole body. Your high builds a little too quick, and you wish this could just go on for hours and hours. You have no doubt in your head that if you asked him, he would do exactly that. And very happily too. But your need for release is more pressing than that, so you hold him close, you babble about how you’re almost there, and when your orgasm hits, you go cross eyed with it, wave after wave of pleasure cresting inside you as you shake and cry through it. Chan doesn’t slow for a single second, letting you writhe and twist under him, chasing your hips wherever they go. It’s only when you tug his hair hard enough to pull his head away that he finally stops, looking up at you with dazed, teary eyes. His whole face is sweaty, wet, and blotched pink over his pale cheeks.
He’s a vision.
You pull hard at his sweatshirt until he’s scrambling up your body, and you kiss him hard. He moans appreciatively, immediately licking into your mouth like he needs it to breathe. Your own taste invades your tongue.
“Let me do that again.” He whines. “Please. Wanna make you feel good. Let me lick you again.”
You moan and feel yourself clench hard, head spinning with how badly he’s turning you on. But you feel so empty, and you need him in other ways too, or you feel like you might combust.
“Later.” You promise him. “Need your cock right now.”
“My what?” He pulls back, still looking unfocused as he frowns down at you. You blink a little, clearing the fog in your head a little. Oh.
Your hand travels down until you palm the bulge in his pants. He jerks violently and gasps.
“This,” you whisper, biting your lip. Chan’s eyes shoot down to where it is trapped between your teeth. “Need this inside me.”
“Inside….?”
It’s better to do than to explain, so you push yourself up, arranging him under you until you're straddling his lap where he sits, undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants and pushing them down enough to free his cock. Your mouth waters at the sight. He’s girthy, way more than you’ve ever taken before, and he curves just at the tip in a way that you know is going to make you see stars when he fucks you right. You run your hand over him, and he gasps again, hips bucking into your touch.
“Feel good?” You ask. Chan nods furiously.
“Wanna make you feel good.” His voice sounds wrecked. You can’t help your giddy smile at his laser focus on making this pleasurable for you.
“You will.” You adjust yourself until you’re hovering over him, running his tip through your slit. You feel him grip your thighs tightly.
The first slide in is glorious. He’s so thick that he stretches your poor pussy out enough to make your legs tremble violently. He runs his hands over them, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure and pain. If you had more control of your mental faculties, if you weren’t so busy taking his massive cock in, you would try to placate the worry on his face, but you have other things to concern yourself with right now.
The deeper he slides in, the farther up his eyes roll. His jaw goes slack, and you watch with a tinge of amusement as the feeling makes his own face go through a million emotions in the span of a few seconds. It makes you brave, more daring, and it makes you feel so sexy to have the power to make him feel all this for the first time. His grip on your thighs is near bruising, which you don’t think he realises, too lost in how warm and tight your cunt feels. Finally, you are fully seated on him, all the way up to the very base.
“Good?” You manage to gasp out. It seems he chokes on his own words, because he just pulls your body close and jerks his head down in a nod.
“What about you?” He looks up at you, blinking furiously. He looks like he might cry if you say that it doesn’t feel good, not that you would lie like that. You giggle breathlessly.
“It’s so good, Channie.” You coo, running a hand through his hair. “You fill me up perfectly, like you were made for me.”
He whines, so loud and thick with want that you think he might cum right there. He holds you tight against him.
“Yes.” He gasps. “Made for you. My wife. Wanna be with you forever.”
It’s incoherent babbling. Uninhibited because of the lust. You shouldn’t take him seriously. Except you know Chan. You know he doesn’t lie. You know he means this with every fiber in him. Your heart stutters, your exhale shaky. You hug his body tight to you, unable to respond. You want him impossibly closer. You tug at his sweatshirt.
“Off.”
He doesn’t waste a single second, revealing wide expanses of built muscle. You run your eyes over him, hungry for the sight, for the feel of him. Once more, emotion builds inside your chest, filling you up from the inside out.
Finally, when you feel like you’ve adjusted to his size, you rock your hips on him, testing. He gasps immediately, hands running everywhere he can reach you and feel you. You let him, basking under the attention now that your hesitation has melted away and the lust has left you wanting. You slowly build up a rhythm, bouncing on him with less and less care until you feel his cock properly fuck into you the way you wanted. Little gasps and moans leave your lips as well as his. Your body warms under the exertion, the deep penetration making your core clamp up slowly and steadily, pleasure building inside you. Skin against skin makes wet plopping noises, a dirty sound that only adds to what you’re already feeling. It seems Chan just can’t stand to have his mouth unoccupied, because he quickly finds your nipple and starts sucking, making you cry out at the feeling.
Exhaustion starts pulling at your limbs after a while, and you squeeze your eyes shut in frustration. You’re so close, you can feel it. You just need a little more, his cock really ramming into you, just a few well aimed thrusts and you know you would topple over.
“Chan.” You pull his head up with a tug on his hair, a habit you’ve created by now. “I’m- I’m tired-”
He doesn’t even wait to hear more, gripping your hips tightly and pistoning up hard into you. You gasp, arching into him.
“Like this?” His voice is raspy, rough. You nod vigorously, unable to form words as he keeps going, fucking up hard into you until you feel nothing but the intense stimulation on your sweet spot, his tip rubbing insistently over it again and again. His pelvis grazes your clit just right with every thrust. You don’t even have time to warn him, clamping tight around him as your orgasm racks through your core. Your whole body winds up with the release, toes curling and eyes rolling. Your lips release a mantra of ‘oh god, oh god, oh god’ as you weep through it, nearly blacking out with how intense it is.
Chan groans loudly then, and you feel something warm coat your insides. Beneath you, you can feel his body jerk and shake, and you hold him tight against you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He moans into your chest as he comes down from his high.
He leans up, kisses you slowly, softly, a welcome feeling after the harsh pounding you just took. You hum into his lips, savouring the feeling of it. Your head is fuzzy, like someone just cleaned it out, leaving nothing behind. Chan nudges his nose against yours, and you blink your eyes open. His smile is dopey, giddy, and you can’t help your giggle.
“I like you like this,” he whispers, “you look so relaxed.”
“All thanks to you.” You brush his hair away from his sweaty face, scratching his scalp a little. He visibly shivers. You can’t help but smile.
You kiss him again, still light and soft. You feel his cock twitch inside you.
“Can I lick you again now? Please?”
You are a little caught off guard, huffing in amusement. “I don’t think I have it in me, Channie.”
“I’ll be gentle.” He runs his hands carefully up your bare back, as if to make a point. “Please. Wanna make you feel good.”
Something stirs in your core again. God, this man will be the death of you. Well, not really a man. A selkie. Your selkie. And his blinding smile when you give in to his begging is enough to tell you that there’s no coming back from this.
Not that you would want to. Like Chan said, you want him to be here with you forever.
synopsis: you're struggling to get out of a bad academic slump, feeling overwhelmed by the constant pressure of grades and the inability to focus. after a few failed attempts to get motivated, you decide to do something different—start going to the gym. at first, it’s just about getting out of the house, but that all changes when mingyu, the gym’s resident greek god, notices you. no amount of reps or cardio can compare to how fast your heart races every time you cross paths, and it becomes impossible to ignore a six-foot tall kim mingyu.
pairing: mingyu x reader (ft. dino and riize wonbin + roommate!jeonghan)
genre: college au, romance, smut (18+ markers for start and end if you wanna skip), fluff, slice-of-life, slow-burn, gym buddy!mingyu
warnings: slightly awkward moments, gym-related humor, slow-burn, soft smut, heavy flirting, unprotected sex (do not do this lol), aftercare <333, making out with random ppl at a party, alcohol consumption, y/n is an absolute LOSERRRRR, profanity of course, mentions of body image (positive)
wc: ~8.5k
a/n: oh my godddd it’s finally here !! my first full fic <333 tysm for 500+ notes on the preview alone like ??? taglist is massive as well so that will be placed under the cut ^^~ shoutout to @meltinghershey, @mochisdayone, and @tigerhoshii for beta reading and dealing with my chaos lmaooo. hope u enjoy <33
you’ve always been the kind of person who keeps yourself busy. your friends say you get “flustered” a lot, but you know it’s less about nerves and more about not seeing the point in stretching out conversations when you could be doing something useful. you’re good with people — you can hold small talk, swap stories, even keep up in a group chat when you need to — but it never feels as rewarding as finishing a project or getting ahead on an assignment. practical, that’s what you are. efficient with your time. so when the stress of midterms and the constant pressure to stay ahead starts to pile up, you fall into a familiar cycle of overworking without actually getting anywhere.
jeonghan, your roommate, always tells you to “take a break” when he finds you buried under a pile of textbooks, but you ignore him. while your dorm neighbor, seungkwan, who’s become your unofficial therapist, insists that maybe a change of scenery might help, but you brush it off. you don’t know what’s worse—failing or the thought of being the one who’s not keeping up with the others.
that’s when you decide to take a leap. you’re not sure if it’s just the idea of doing something different, or the fact that every other option has failed, but you sign up for the gym. you’re not sure what you’re expecting—just that you need to shake things up.
the first day is terrible. you’re awkwardly trying to figure out how machines work, watching everyone around you who seems like they know what they’re doing, while you’re stuck on a treadmill wondering if you’re supposed to be running or walking faster.
that’s when he notices you.
kim mingyu.
he’s not hard to spot—tall, broad-shouldered, a greek god in a compression shirt, with muscles you can’t even begin to fathom. you try not to stare, but your eyes can’t help it. he’s on the other side of the room, lifting weights with ease, his form flawless. you can’t even imagine having a fraction of that confidence. you turn back to your treadmill, your face flushed as you try to focus on not tripping over yourself.
but then, out of nowhere, he’s right there in front of you.
“hey, are you new here?” his voice is so casual, but your heart skips a beat at the sound of it. “first time at the gym?”
you freeze, where the fuck did he come from?
pretty hard not to spot a giant like kim mingyu walking towards you, y/n.
without thinking, you mumble, “oh shit—” and immediately stumble forward. you try to catch yourself but end up tripping over your own feet, your hands flailing to find balance.
“whoa!” mingyu’s quick reflexes kick in, and before you know it, he’s right there, steadying you with one hand on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, voice tinged with concern, but there’s a hint of amusement in his smile.
you gulp, heart racing. “i—yeah. i just—uh, didn’t see you coming.” you let out a pathetic laugh, heat flooding your cheeks.
mingyu chuckles, his laugh deep and warm. “i kind of figured. you look like you’re on the verge of a wipeout.”
you can’t help but give a lopsided smile, despite your embarrassment. “thanks… i guess,” you mutter, still trying to regain your composure.
“don’t worry about it,” he says with a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “you’re still alive, so that’s a win in my book.”
and just like that, mingyu’s gone, back to his workout as if he hadn’t just saved you from making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.
for the next few days, mingyu’s presence haunts the gym. you see him everywhere—lifting weights, chatting with people, giving advice, being… well, perfect. and all you can do is watch from the sidelines, still too embarrassed to approach him, but also unable to tear your eyes away.
there’s something so confident about him, so effortlessly kind, and you begin to notice the way he always looks out for people. he’s just a regular guy, right? except he’s mingyu, and somehow, he makes everything look effortless.
oooh, and those. arms.
and you? well, you’re still stumbling through the basics. and you learned pretty early on that no amount of cardio can beat your heartrate every time your gaze catches a sight of kim mingyu.
“y/n, you’re going again?” jeonghan asks, raising an eyebrow as you tie your sneakers, preparing for yet another trip to the gym.
“yeah, i—um, just need to clear my head,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes to avoid his teasing gaze.
jeonghan grins. “mhm, sure you do. so, what? you’ve got your eyes on some hunk down there?” he teases, making air quotes with his fingers, clearly referring to some “eye candy” at the gym. “someone’s been going to the gym a lot recently…”
you freeze, trying to play it cool. “what?” you ask, slightly panicking. “no, i-i’m just, you know, trying to get out of a rut with my studies. nothing else.”
jeonghan watches you carefully, then his eyes widen. “wait… there is someone, isn’t there?” he grins widely, and it suddenly hits you. “wait, y/n, don’t tell me that it’s kim mingyu? the gym’s golden boy?” he laughs, clearly amused by your flustered face.
you freeze in shock. “what? no—he’s just a guy who works out a lot! i mean, yeah, he’s nice, but it’s not like—”
jeonghan bursts out laughing. “so you do know him! oh, honey, don’t even try to act like you’re not into him. everyone knows who mingyu is. have you seen him? dude’s got the perfect physique, perfect grades, perfect car, and perfect everything. i’ve heard he’s loaded too. his dad’s some big-time olympic weightlifting official. he’s literally the walking definition of the ‘golden boy’ on campus.”
you blink, your mind struggling to keep up with the avalanche of information. “wait… the olympics? his dad?”
jeonghan nods. “yeah, exactly. i’ve heard he comes from a pretty well-off family too. so yeah, mingyu’s literally perfect. it’s no surprise that he’s in everyone’s top ten crush list.”
you feel your face heating up as the realization settles in. “oh my god…”
jeonghan chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. “don’t worry, y/n. if you want to stare at a perfect person in peace, you just gotta deal with the fact that you’re not the only one who has their eyes on him.”
you groan, burying your face in your hands. “stop teasing me,” you mumble, but there’s no denying the fact that you’re definitely starting to feel a little more… interested than you’d like to admit. but it’s just a silly gym crush. definitely.
as if he wasn't already a regular in your daydreams, you bump into him again, outside of the gym this time.
the first time is when you’re standing outside the lecture hall, waiting for class to start, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie. your mind’s still racing from last night’s study session, and you’re so absorbed in your thoughts that you barely notice when the doors to the hall open. as you look up, though, you catch a glimpse of a familiar face.
mingyu.
he’s wearing his usual easy-going smile, his gym bag slung casually over one shoulder, walking right into the building like he owns the place. you stare at him, frozen, as your heart rate picks up. he’s in your class?
“y/n?” a voice snaps you out of your trance.
you look over to see jeonghan, who raises an eyebrow at your flushed face. “you okay?” he asks, his lips quirking into a teasing smile as he follows your line of sight.
“uh, yeah… just didn’t expect to see… him.” you try to sound casual, pointing toward mingyu, but your voice cracks slightly.
jeonghan looks over, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just see your face turn fifty shades of red. “oh. him. so, you’re saying you haven’t noticed our campus' very own golden boy in your minor classes? phys ed major, i heard.”
“he’s a…?” you blink, confused.
“yeah,” jeonghan smirks, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “mingyu. doesn’t surprise me, though. he’s always around. always looks like he’s got his life together, the body of a perfect poster boy for fitness promos in those gyms across town.”
you watch mingyu walk into the lecture hall, now knowing the one thing that had never occurred to you: he’s actually here, at the same school as you. sharing a class with you, at that.
it’s like a punch to the gut. of course he is.
and you? you’re here, stumbling through calculus with a mountain of textbooks you can never seem to get through.
but you can’t stop thinking about how easy mingyu makes everything look.
turns out… going to the gym wasn’t the worst decision you’ve ever made.
you weren’t exactly sculpting a six-pack yet, but you didn’t feel like complete shit all the time now. your brain fog was thinning, your mood was lighter, and you kinda liked walking past your reflection and noticing how your arms didn’t look so soft anymore. jeonghan had clocked it too.
“look at you,” he teased one night while you were getting ready for another house party he dragged you to. “all swole and glowy. is this a gym glow? did mingyu spot you or something?”
you rolled your eyes, fumbling with a random lock of your hair. “well… he’s definitely a looker, i do think it wouldn’t hurt to gawk at him wearing a compression shirt a few times a week.” you admitted, trying to keep your voice casual but you could already feel the heat crawling up your neck.
jeonghan gasped, immediately abandoning his lip balm to lean closer. “no way. tell me more.”
you huffed, giving in. “he’s just—okay, he’s really tall. and stupidly buff. and he always looks like he walked out of some greek mythology fanfic. and he’s nice?? like unfairly nice.”
“oh, babe. poor you. no one comes out of a gym crush on him alive.”
you both laughed it off, but the truth was… you were actually starting to enjoy the gym. not just for the obvious eye candy, but because it made you feel good. and you were slowly clawing your way out of that academic slump one sweat-soaked session at a time.
and parties helped too.
jeonghan had been on a social streak lately, dragging you to every decent gathering he caught wind of. and for once, you weren’t staying glued to the walls. you mingled, you danced, you maybe flirted a little.
like that one night with the guy named chan.
cute boy. bright smile. quick to pour you a drink and compliment your hair. he was a little too eager, but harmless. you didn’t mind giving him a peck on the cheek, his cheeks blushing a dusty pink in response.
“what year are you in?” you asked casually over the music.
“i’m a sophomore!” he beamed.
“oh,” you blinked. “you’re...”
his smile faltered a little at your sudden reluctance. jeonghan appeared at your elbow at the perfect moment, smirking. “poor kid. you just got downgraded to ‘little brother’ status.”
chan pouted but took it like a champ, even offering to get you another drink before you politely excused yourself. harmless. kinda endearing, honestly.
but the real kicker came a week later.
you were halfway through a very sad attempt at curling a dumbbell too heavy for your current strength level when someone suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision.
“oh, hey,” a boy with bright eyes and soft features said, slightly breathless like he’d jogged over. “you’re… y/n, right?”
you blinked. “um— yeah?”
“i—i’m chan.”
“nice to meet you, chan.” wait.
you stopped your reps abruptly.
he rubbed the back of his neck, looking nervous. “i, uh, think we met at that party last week?”
oh no.
the pieces clicked a little too late in your brain, but they did click. he was the same guy from the party you went to last weekend who’d offered you a drink and talked you up. and you, in a half-drunk, affectionate spiral, planted a quick kiss on his cheek before finding out he was way too young to be your type, jeonghan saving you as you both run away, making a break for the kitchen.
he looked so hopeful now it physically hurt.
before you could fumble out an apology or awkwardly escape, a very familiar voice called over from the other side of the room.
“yo, chan! quit slacking, get your ass over here.”
mingyu.
he was leaning against the leg press, towel draped over his shoulder again like a damn fitness magazine model. chan gave you an apologetic little smile and jogged over.
you took a moment to quietly die inside.
and then—as if fate wasn’t already laughing at you—mingyu clapped a hand on chan’s shoulder and grinned, talking loud enough for you to catch while pretending not to.
“this kid’s soft as hell, y’know that? started hitting the gym ‘cause some random girl at a party ghosted him.”
you nearly choked on your water.
oh my god. you had hope chan had attended a few more parties since then. because if not, then...
it was probably you. you were the girl.
you quickly turned away, pretending to be very interested in adjusting your earbuds (it wasn’t even connected to your phone).
chan would clear his throat awkwardly at this—mingyu didn’t know, of course. he was teasing chan like a big brother would, completely unaware that the object of the kid’s little tragedy was currently staring wide-eyed at her reflection in the nearest mirror.
fuck. fuckfuckfuck.
it had been a week or so since your… unfortunate run-in with chan at the gym. you’d done your best to laugh it off, though the way mingyu casually mentioned some poor kid started training because of a heartbreak at a frat party had you spiraling internally for a solid three business days. because what were the odds? your chan? apparently heartbreak over a 15 minute encounter was a hell of a pre-workout.
either way, you were ready to get back out there. another weekend, another party—fingers crossed you wouldn’t unknowingly crush some poor guy’s spirit this time and discover their glow-up arc at the campus gym. you sent up a silent prayer as you got dressed, hoping the universe would cut you some slack for once.
you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been a little more… experimental with your outfits lately. nothing wild, just a few tops cropped a little higher, jeans sitting a little lower. maybe if you showed a bit of skin, you’d start to feel as hot as you hoped you looked. besides—you’d been busting your ass at the gym. you deserved to show it off a little.
“okay, i see you!” jeonghan wolf-whistled from the other side of the room when you stepped out of your closet. “damn, baby, if i didn’t know you were one tragic gym crush away from full insanity, i’d think you were tryna pull tonight.”
“maybe i am,” you teased, smoothing your hands down your sides, a little proud of how good you felt lately. maybe it was the gym, maybe it was the new skincare routine seungkwan bullied you into, maybe it was pure spite toward every man who’d ghosted you, but you were glowing a bit, and you weren’t about to waste it.
jeonghan grabbed his keys and slung an arm over your shoulders. “alright, let’s go break hearts—consensually.”
the party was already in full swing when you got there, neon lights bleeding into every room, the bass so deep it made the walls thrum. you lost jeonghan somewhere between the kitchen and the makeshift dancefloor, though not before downing two shots together like some chaotic ritual.
an hour later you were a little tipsy, flushed from dancing, with the beginnings of a hangover clawing at the edges of your brain when you found yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on lukewarm water. you’d just successfully escaped making out with some ridiculously pretty boy named wonbin you barely knew. his hands had been nice, sure, but his cologne was giving you a headache and you had a 10 a.m. gym session you weren’t about to flake on.
“look at you,” a familiar voice teased, low and warm and way too close to your ear.
you turned your head—and there was mingyu, grinning down at you, tight black polo stretched over his chest and looking like he’d walked out of a men’s fitness ad. or maybe a sin. who could say.
“don’t tell me you’re partying too,” you half-giggled, setting your cup down. “and here i thought you were some gym purist.”
“could say the same for you,” mingyu shot back, leaning against the counter beside you. “what kind of maniac hits the gym after a night at a rager?”
you let out a laugh, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “an insane one, apparently.”
your gaze dropped—you couldn’t help it—to the way his biceps flexed as he lifted his drink. god, you were barely sober and apparently even less subtle. before your brain could stop you, your hand reached out and squeezed his arm.
a full, proper squeeze.
and then you registered what you’d just done.
“oh my god,” you blurted, snapping your hand back like it burned. “i can’t believe i just did that. i’m so sorry—”
mingyu just barked out a laugh, reaching out to catch your wrist before you could flee the kitchen entirely. “nah, it’s cool. you like it that much, huh?”
his grin was sharp, teasing, and you were definitely too sober for this now. your pulse jumped as his fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, giving it a little squeeze back before letting go.
“i—” you started, but your brain short-circuited.
mingyu tilted his head, still smiling. “come on, i’ll walk you back. wouldn’t wanna lose our future gym freak to some frat house debauchery.”
the walk back was… quieter than you expected. not awkward, just easy. mingyu had one hand shoved into his pocket, the other loosely holding the bottle of water he’d swiped for you on the way out. the cool night air sobered you up faster than any coffee could’ve, but it didn’t stop the way your heart kept doing this stupid little jump every time your arms brushed.
you should’ve felt bad about ditching jeonghan—traitor behavior, honestly. but in your defense, he’d disappeared into a dark corner with someone you swore was a philosophy major who looked like trouble, so technically you were both abandoning each other tonight. friendship cancelled out.
“you good?” mingyu asked, glancing down at you.
you hummed. “better now. needed that fresh air.”
mingyu’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “told you. you’re almost as insane as me.”
you snorted. almost. the man had a literal six-pack under that shirt and probably ran marathons for fun. meanwhile, you nearly keeled over after fifteen minutes on the treadmill your first week.
by the time you reached your dorm building, the campus had quieted down. only the hum of street lamps and the occasional tipsy laughter echoing from other party stragglers.
you fished your keys out of your bag, hands clumsy from a mix of nerves and residual buzz. mingyu leaned against the wall by your door, watching you with that same soft amusement you hated how much you liked.
and you weren’t drunk anymore. you couldn’t blame it on that. not the flutter in your stomach. not the way your fingers twitched at your side.
you liked to believe it was the alcohol, but you knew better. because even sober, even under these shitty yellow hallway lights, mingyu looked unfairly good. and you were still a little bit of a loser inside.
you swallowed, gripping your keys too tight before blurting out, way too fast, “do you—wanna come in? or, i mean, just for a bit. like—i have snacks. and, uh. water. and… i guess my air conditioning’s nice.”
jesus christ.
your voice cracked a little at the end and you wanted to throw yourself out a window.
mingyu’s brow arched in surprise for half a second before a slow grin spread across his face. not cocky. not smug. just… warm. maybe a little endeared.
“snacks and air conditioning, huh?” he teased, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “hard to say no to that.”
your ears burned. “it’s fine if you’re tired or whatever—”
but he was already stepping forward, hand reaching to nudge the door open when you finally got the key to work.
“lead the way, gym buddy.”
and god help you, you did.
you don’t know what possessed you. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way mingyu looked under those shitty streetlights, hair a little messy, grin too easy. either way, you were now standing in your tiny dorm, watching him take a seat on your bed like he’s been here a hundred times before.
and you? you were having a mental breakdown.
“oh my god, what am i doing,” you muttered under your breath, moving to your tiny fridge to grab two bottled waters like your life depended on it. your hands shook a little, and you cursed yourself for acting like you’d never had a boy in your room before — let alone this boy. this unfairly gorgeous, golden boy, smile-that-can-take-down-roman-empires , literal greek god of a man—kim mingyu.
“you good?” mingyu chuckled, and when you turned, he was grinning at you, legs spread lazily, leaning back on his hands like he owned the place. “you’re acting like you just smuggled me in past your strict parents or something.”
you huffed out a laugh, plopping down a water bottle next to him on the bed and keeping a very respectful distance on the opposite side. “sorry. i just—this wasn’t planned. like at all.”
mingyu shrugged, cracking open the bottle. “spur of the moment’s fun sometimes.”
you eyed him, unsure what to do with yourself, fidgeting with the label on your own bottle. “if you wanna head back to the party, you totally can. i mean, i’m tucking in for the night anyway. i promise i’m completely sober now, so no babysitting required.”
he looked at you, one brow raised, a teasing glint in his eye. “and miss out on the snacks and air conditioning you promised? no way.”
you rolled your eyes but smiled, heart doing its usual ridiculous flip when his knee brushed yours. casual. accidental. but you felt it all the same.
“plus,” mingyu added, leaning a little closer, voice dropping in that way that made your stomach twist up in knots. “what about our gym sesh tomorrow? together?”
you blinked. “our… what now?”
he laughed, reaching over to pluck the bottle from your hands and set it aside like you were both settling in for a long talk. “you’ve been avoiding me at the gym, you know.”
“i have not—”
“have too.”
your face warmed again. “okay, maybe a little. it’s intimidating, okay? you’re like… you.”
mingyu’s grin softened, eyes crinkling into those damn crescent moons. “i’m just a dude, y/n. and apparently, i’m now a dude who ditches parties for you.”
your head spun.
“you’re insane.” you try to brush it off.
“almost as insane as you.” he pushes further.
you laughed, the sound filling the room like something easy, and when mingyu’s hand found yours for half a second—a fleeting touch, a gentle squeeze before letting go — you didn’t even think about pulling away.
and you know what? maybe jeonghan was right. maybe you did have a type.
snack wrappers littered your coffee table, the air conditioning blasting at a level jeonghan would dramatically declare a war crime if he were here. you glanced over at mingyu, who looked far too at home on your couch, long legs stretched out, hair a little messy, that annoyingly perfect face lit by the glow of the tv screen playing some random old action movie neither of you were really watching.
“you don’t mind me staying over, do you?” mingyu asked, suddenly, tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.
you choked on your water. “w-what? no! i mean—no, not at all! you can stay. totally. of course. i mean, obviously you’re gonna be on the couch, hahah, it’s totally fine, not weird at all.”
he raised a brow at you, clearly amused. “didn’t even ask to share the bed, y/n.”
“right! of course. couch it is.” you fumbled, standing up a little too quickly. “i’m—gonna wash up.”
you darted toward the balcony, trying not to faceplant on the way, heart hammering so stupidly hard in your chest it felt like a crime. outside, the night air was cool against your skin, and you grabbed a hanger off the clothesline — one of jeonghan’s oversized shirts and a pair of old sweatpants, thankfully dry and still carrying a faint scent of clean detergent and your roommate’s obnoxiously expensive cologne.
when you stepped back inside, mingyu was still sprawled on the couch, only now looking over his shoulder at you with a soft little grin. you cleared your throat, holding up the clothes. “these should fit. jeonghan’s taller than me, but probably not as tall as you, but he loves baggy clothes, so… y’know. good enough.”
“they’ll be perfect.” mingyu smiled, and you couldn’t believe how easy it looked on him.
you escaped to the bathroom, scrubbing your makeup off and washing up as fast as humanly possible, trying not to analyze your reflection too hard, might risk an existential crisis if you did. when you came out, hair wet and towel draped over your head, you froze.
because mingyu was already changed.
and holy shit—jeonghan’s oversized clothes looked offensively good on him. the shirt stretched just enough over his broad shoulders, the sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he gave you that soft, grateful grin like he wasn’t lowkey ruining your life.
“thanks for this, by the way.” he said, plucking a stray thread off the hem of his sleeve.
you nodded wordlessly, eyes shamelessly fixed on him now, not even bothering to pretend otherwise. your feet carried you over to grab your own water bottle, and then—because your brain was fried and you didn’t know what else to do with yourself—you dropped down cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, towel still draped over your head, grabbing the remote with one hand and surfing aimlessly through streaming services, while the other dried your hair with the towel.
mingyu leaned forward. “give me that.”
you blinked, snapping out of your momentary daze. “huh?”
“your towel,” he said, grinning like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your hair’s dripping. let me dry it.”
“you don’t have to—”
“i want to.” he smiles. that damn smile again.
and because you were a fool, you let him.
he sat on the couch, legs on either side of you, the towel over your head as his hands worked gently, drying your hair with easy, practiced motions. his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and your heart straight-up stopped functioning properly. the domesticity of it all, the weird, too-close familiarity, it was driving you absolutely insane.
you swallowed hard, your cheeks heating up so bad you were thankful your wet hair could still pass for cold skin. and maybe it was the way his thumb lingered on your jaw, just a little too long, or the fact that his legs bracketed yours like some kind of ridiculously domestic setup—either way, you felt that invisible line between you both shift. and for the first time since this night started, you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay on the safe side of it.
“there,” mingyu murmured after a while, pulling the towel off your head with a final little tousle, his voice low and weirdly fond. “all good.”
you fiddled with the hem of your shorts, feeling way too aware of how close he was. the room felt quieter now, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of the tv playing some car chase scene neither of you were watching.
“okay, so… um.” you cleared your throat, standing up abruptly. “you can take the bed. i’ll sleep on the couch.”
mingyu’s brows shot up. “what? no way.”
“what do you mean ‘no way’? you’re a guest.” you protested, already grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket from the closet.
“y/n, look at me.” he gestured down at himself, at the way his knees practically hit his chest sitting on your too-small couch. “i can’t even sit on that thing properly, let alone sleep. you’d be sentencing me to a night of back pain and leg cramps. i’m not making you sleep out here just for my sake.”
you scowled, stubborn. “but it’s my bed.”
“exactly. and it’s your apartment, so you deserve the comfy bed.”
“jeonghan’s room’s locked.” you grumbled, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. “he never leaves it unlocked when he’s not here. no other choice.”
mingyu leaned back against the couch, flashing you a crooked grin. “then we share.”
your brain practically bluescreened.
“w-wait, what?”
“the bed. we share. it’s big enough, isn’t it?” his grin widened. “i promise not to hog the blanket.”
you opened and closed your mouth a few times, grasping for some kind of coherent argument but coming up short because damn it, he was right. the couch barely fit him sitting down—there was no way he’d be able to sleep on it comfortably. and you weren’t about to let him throw his back out for a stupid reason like this.
“fine,” you muttered, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “but stay on your side.”
“scout’s honor.” he held up two fingers in mock solemnity.
“and don’t snore.”
“i don’t snore.”
“i’ll be the judge of that.”
you grabbed your phone charger and shuffled into your room, leaving the door open behind you. mingyu followed a beat later, still grinning like the smug menace he was. and even though every rational part of your brain screamed that this was such a bad idea, a tiny, reckless voice at the back of your head whispered that maybe, just maybe, you kind of wanted to find out what it felt like to fall asleep next to someone like him.
for the record: it was totally the alcohol talking.
probably.
maybe?
…fuck.
you told yourself it was fine.
just two pals. gym buddies. campus friends. besties.
two completely platonic people sharing a bed because of spatial logistics and the cruel, unrelenting limits of furniture design.
haha.
ha.
you were malfunctioning.
you sat on your side of the bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline as mingyu tugged the blanket over himself with an ease that should not have made your stomach flip. he lay there, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately like the world’s most peaceful golden retriever, while you stared at the ceiling, brain absolutely going to hell.
‘totally normal. nothing weird. just two amigos. chingus! bros!’
you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to sleep, repeating the words like a desperate mantra. and for a while, it worked. you drifted off into something hazy and warm, the hum of the air conditioning and mingyu’s even breathing lulling you under.
until a shift in weight on the mattress made your eyes snap open.
and you felt it—a puff of warm breath against the curve of your neck, so close you shivered.
‘oh my god.’
you yelped, a tiny, startled squeak that made mingyu jolt awake, eyes bleary and confused.
“shit— sorry! sorry, did i—” he started, voice rough from sleep.
“no, it’s— it’s okay, i just—” you flailed for words, completely undone.
he rubbed at his eyes, blinking at you with a sheepish smile. “i tend to roll over a lot when i sleep. didn’t mean to get all up in your space.”
“it’s fine,” you mumbled, cheeks burning.
he studied you for a beat, then tilted his head, grinning softly. “you sure? i mean… you didn’t seem that mad.”
you wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out.
“it was…” you swallowed. “weirdly nice.”
his grin turned smug. “yeah?”
before you could lie or backtrack, he shifted again—leaning in until his lips brushed the same spot on your neck, the featherlight contact making your skin prickle.
“like this?” he murmured, half-asleep and reckless.
you could barely breathe. “mingyu…”
your voice cracked, hoarse and small in the dark.
he hummed against your skin, one strong arm draping lazily around your waist, pulling you back against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. you could feel the steady beat of his heart, the solid warmth of his body.
“i like this,” he whispered, barely audible.
and just like that, every single one of your loser brain cells went into cardiac arrest.
his arm around your waist felt heavy. solid. grounding in a way that made your breath hitch.
and then there was his hand—splayed across your stomach, fingertips brushing the hem of your sleep shirt, barely touching skin but leaving a trail of heat in their wake. his face was still buried against your neck, his lips pressing featherlight there, like he wasn’t fully awake, like his body was moving on instinct alone.
and god, it shouldn’t have felt this good.
you swallowed, pulse stuttering in your throat, trying not to focus on the way your thighs instinctively pressed together under the covers.
‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’
this was mingyu. your gym buddy. the guy who spotted you when you were too scared to touch the free weights. the man who chugged protein shakes like water and complained about his laundry bill.
but now he was pressed up against you in your tiny dorm bed, all warm muscle and lazy affection, and you felt… something.
something low and traitorous in your stomach, fluttering sharp and hot between your legs in a way you hadn’t expected. a dull ache, a clench of nothingness that made you shift in place without meaning to.
and of course, of course, mingyu noticed.
“hm? you okay?” he mumbled, voice still husky with sleep, his hand tightening a fraction around your waist.
you let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a whimper and hoped to god it passed for sleepy noise.
“yeah,” you whispered. “just… warm.”
“you want me to move?”
the words made your stomach drop. panic spiked sharp and bright in your chest.
“no!” too quick, too loud. you winced, immediately mortified. “i mea—it’s fine. i like it.”
his smile was lazy, smug even in half-sleep. “yeah?”
you bit your lip. “yeah.”
and then his hand slid a little lower.
not on purpose—you told yourself it wasn’t on purpose—but the way his palm brushed the dip of your hip, fingers grazing bare skin, made you feel that something again.
your breath hitched.
‘oh my god.’
your brain was a storm of sirens and red flags but your body didn’t care. it was already reacting, warmth pooling in places you didn’t dare name, and you squeezed your eyes shut, praying he couldn’t tell.
but mingyu, perceptive even in sleep, let out a low chuckle against your skin.
“you’re kinda squirmy, y/n,” he teased softly.
“shut up,” you croaked, absolutely humiliated, heat rushing to your face.
he laughed, that same warm, boyish sound that always made your chest hurt, and settled in closer.
“don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips ghosting your ear. “i don’t mind.”
you didn’t know who moved first.
maybe it was the way his fingers curled against your skin, rough pads stroking just a little too slow, a little too deliberate.
maybe it was you—traitorous, loser brain short-circuiting—turning your face toward his, catching the curve of his smile in the dark.
maybe it was the sheer tension that had been crackling between you for weeks, building in glances, brushes of hands, the weight of his gaze on you across a crowded gym floor. it had to break sometime.
and it did.
because then his lips were on yours.
soft, warm, tasting faintly of the cheap beer from earlier and the mint of your toothpaste. it was clumsy at first, a messy slide of mouths and teeth, a surprised noise catching in your throat as his hand tilted your jaw, deepening the kiss.
“fuck,” you breathed when you broke apart, and mingyu just grinned against your skin.
“you sure?” he murmured, thumb stroking under your chin, eyes searching yours in the dim light.
and you—flustered, awkward, a little tipsy but painfully sober now—nodded. “yeah. yeah, i’m sure.”
he kissed you again, slower this time, one hand at the small of your back pulling you flush against him. you felt everything—the press of his chest, the solid heat of his thigh between yours, and the unmistakable, undeniable hardness against your hip.
your head spun.
‘oh my god.’
mingyu pulled back just enough to laugh, breath warm on your cheek. “now who’s feeling something?”
“shut up,” you gasped, but you were smiling, you couldn’t stop smiling, even as your face burned and your hands trembled where they clutched his t-shirt.
his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “can i—?”
“please.”
he was so gentle, like he thought you might break if he touched you wrong, murmuring your name like it was a prayer, all those muscles for show but his touch impossibly careful.
the room spun, your heartbeat louder than the air conditioner, mingyu’s breath ragged in your ear as he settled between your thighs, his hand slipping under the waistband of your shorts and—
“mingyu,” you whimpered, your voice cracking, half-laughing at yourself because holy shit this was really happening.
“i got you,” he promised, lips ghosting your jaw. “i’ll take care of you, y/n.”
and he did.
slow, achingly careful, like you were something precious—and for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe you were.
then it was a tangle of hands, mouths, clothes splayed somewhere in the dark, it was messy and desperate and you should’ve known better than to underestimate him. you’d seen those muscles at the gym, felt them under your hands—but it wasn’t until now, when he hooked your thigh over his hip and pressed you down into the mattress, that you realized just how strong he really was.
and when he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, his palm sliding down your back in a slow, reverent stroke, your brain short-circuited.
“jesus christ,” you gasped, cheek pressed to the pillow.
“like this?” he murmured against your ear, voice low and warm.
you barely managed to nod.
he started slow, careful—his hips rolling into yours, lazy and deep, one hand laced with yours against the pillow. you felt the strain in his forearm where it bracketed your head, the soft curse in your ear at how tight you clenched around him.
then, when your hips pushed back into him, a helpless little sound catching in your throat, something in him snapped.
the next thrust was harder—not rough, but deeper, firmer, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that made your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut.
“fuck—mingyu,” you choked out, hands clawing at the sheets.
he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “feel so good, baby,” he rasped. “been wanting this—wanted you—”
you couldn’t answer, too busy trying not to drool into your pillow as he kept going, the thick drag of him inside you dizzying. it was too much and not enough at the same time, your body trembling and brain turning to static.
every roll of his hips made your breath hitch, the room filled with the slick, filthy sound of skin against skin, the low broken noises leaving both your mouths.
and even as his pace picked up, as your body went pliant under his and your legs shook, mingyu was still achingly gentle in how he touched you—hand smoothing your hair from your face, lips brushing the back of your shoulder.
“good girl,” he groaned, voice cracking as his rhythm faltered. “fuck—‘m close—gonna—”
his hips stuttered, a deep, desperate moan spilling from his throat as he pulled out last second, rutting his cock against the curve of your ass as he came hard, hot ropes of it painting your lower back and thighs.
your body trembled, face buried in the pillow, breath ragged and uneven as you felt the warmth of it on your skin, the heavy, shaky way he exhaled against your shoulder.
and for a moment, neither of you moved—just the soft hum of the air conditioner, the buzz of blood in your ears, and the lingering ache between your thighs.
he collapsed on top of you, catching himself just in time, his strong arms holding you close as he tugged you into his chest. you were too tired to protest, too exhausted to do anything but let him hold you, feeling the heat of his body against yours.
his arms were so strong, tanned and muscular, yet the way he held you was impossibly soft. despite everything—the hours you’d spent at the gym, the newfound strength you were building—you felt so small in his hold, a feeling you couldn’t deny you loved. it wasn’t in the sense of weakness, but in how careful he was with you, how you felt like he was holding you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. his warmth, his scent—it was all consuming in the best way.
“fuck,” he whispered, his voice raw. “you’re amazing.”
you smiled, your heart fluttering, but you didn’t have the energy to respond. all you wanted to do was lie there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek as he held you close. it was almost as if the world had stopped. just the two of you, tangled in the sheets, in each other’s arms. his hand ran over your back, a soft, soothing motion that made you want to curl further into him, to let yourself fall into the safe space he’d created.
after a few quiet minutes, you felt the bed shift as mingyu reluctantly untangled himself. you made a small sound of protest, but he just chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “hang on,” he murmured. the mattress dipped again when he returned, and then—
a wet, warm cloth brushed over your skin.
your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping before you could stop it. the gentle, careful way he wiped you down made your whole body ache in a different way, a deep, fluttery warmth blooming in your chest.
“just cleaning you up,” he said quietly, his voice so tender it made your stomach flip. “can’t have my girl falling asleep like this.”
and you would’ve made some flirty comment if you weren’t so bone-tired. though, in your haze, your eyes flickered down and caught the cloth in his hand—wait. was that… jeonghan’s shirt? you squinted, brain foggy, but you could recognize that obnoxious band tee anywhere. a breathy, disbelieving laugh slipped from your lips.
“is that—?”
mingyu grinned, clearly unbothered, continuing to wipe you down with maddening gentleness. “it’ll go missing after tonight, hope he won’t miss it.” he lets out an airy chuckle.
you wanted to laugh with him but the tenderness with every touch and wipe over your skin made your throat feel tight, your eyes blinking back slumber, overwhelmed in the best, most ridiculous way.
when he finished, he tossed the poor shirt aside and pulled you back into his arms like he’d never let go. “don’t wanna move,” he mumbled against your hair, pressing another kiss to your forehead. his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “sleep. we’ve gotta be up for the gym later.”
you almost giggled, but let out a dreamy sigh instead—you were too tired, too content with the way he was holding you. the night had been a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, but here, in his arms, everything felt right. you nodded, not trusting your voice, but somehow, that was enough for him.
the room was silent now, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and your steady breaths. he shifted just slightly, ensuring you were tucked securely against him, and before long, you felt the weight of sleep tugging at your eyelids.
you drifted off, wrapped in his warmth, still feeling the echoes of everything that had happened. for once, you didn’t feel like that burned out student who can barely lift anything at the gym anymore. not when you had someone like mingyu holding you this tightly. you could lift the whole world with this euphoric feeling.
the next morning came too fast.
mingyu kissed you before he left, still smelling like your bodywash and the lingering trace of sweat and skin. you were half-asleep, face buried in your pillow as you felt the press of his lips against your temple, his voice a low murmur. “i’ll see you at the gym, cutie.”
then the door clicked shut, and you groaned into your sheets.
by the time you dragged yourself to the gym, your legs were jelly, your thighs aching in ways you hadn’t expected. you caught mingyu leaning against the front desk, grinning like he hadn’t just rearranged your guts a few hours ago.
“leg day?” he asked innocently, one brow arched.
you scowled. “i am so not doing leg day.”
he laughed—the kind of laugh that made you want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. “c’mon, i’ll go easy on you.”
“you said that last time, you liar.”
still, you let him lead you through the warm-up, pretending you weren’t staring when his shirt lifted a little, exposing tan skin and the cut of his abs. your banter bounced back and forth, teasing, smug little grins exchanged between reps. you managed to trip over your own foot during lunges, and mingyu caught you by the waist like it was nothing, steadying you with those massive hands—the same ones that held you close last night, skin to skin. before you had the chance to get over the thought, he had already tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“careful, lightweight,” he teased.
you rolled your eyes, heart pounding way too hard for a simple gym mishap.
it was gonna be a long morning.
after the gym session, you and mingyu were a mess of sweat and sore muscles, but there was still an undeniable energy buzzing between you. you didn’t want to go home yet, not when he was looking at you like that—eyes soft, smile easy, and that unmistakable pull between the two of you that hadn’t quite worn off yet.
“smoothie?” mingyu asked, his voice almost too casual, but you could tell he was trying to keep his cool.
you blinked, still trying to catch your breath after a killer session. “uh, sure, i’m down for a smoothie.”
the smoothie place was just a block away, and soon enough you were sitting at a little outdoor table with your huge cups, the kind of smoothies that were so large you could probably share with a small army. but instead, mingyu leaned toward you, grabbing one of the oversized straws and slipping it into his mouth.
“i’m serious about the flavor,” he said with a grin, “this is the one. trust me. the secret add-on’s spinach, by the way.”
you rolled your eyes and gave him a playful look, but didn’t argue. you took a sip from the same straw, the cold tang of mango, strawberry, and pineapple flooding your senses, no weird spinach flavor in sight. it tasted like summer. and something else, too—something sweet and comfortable that made you want to stay here in this moment forever.
mingyu was looking at you again, that soft, almost shy smile on his face, and for once, you didn’t feel like you wanted to leave, even if conversations stretched for hours. you didn’t feel like the try-hard academic you push yourself to be.
no, with mingyu, you were just you—the girl he had kissed and laughed with and shared a smoothie with. there were no pretenses between you two anymore, no more awkward glances or confusing feelings. it was simple. it was easy. and that made everything feel right.
“it’s good, right?” mingyu asked, taking another sip.
you smiled at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss the night before. “yeah. you were right.”
he leaned back, looking like he was about to say something, but instead, he just chuckled softly. “this smoothie tastes like something my future partner would like.”
you raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “bold of you to assume they’d date a guy who puts spinach in his smoothies.”
mingyu laughed, eyes crinkling. “what, you don’t think so?”
you leaned back, crossing your arms with a smirk. “guess that’s something my future boyfriend will find out.”
and with that, everything seemed to click. it wasn’t just the gym, or the smoothies, or the fact that you were already falling asleep on him every night. it was this—being with him, sharing these little moments that felt so much bigger than anything you could’ve imagined.
mingyu looked at you then, his expression soft and sincere, and you realized that this—whatever this was—was real. you weren’t just friends anymore. you weren’t just gym buddies. you were something more, and that was enough for you.
as you sat there, sipping your smoothie and enjoying the warm morning sun, you couldn’t help but smile. things with mingyu were simple, but they felt so right. and right now, that was all you needed.
a/n: phew this has been such fun to write <33 and i hope it gets as much love as its preview !! tysm to carats and other multistans ^^~ if u liked reading this, drop me a follow, lets be moots !! and feel free to send in prompts of ur favorite idols to my inbox ~ i prioritize requests and they r always open !! have a nice day every1 !!!!!!!!!!
synopsis... you accidentally text svt a thirst message about them, thinking they were someone else... inspired/directly quoted from things @mylovesstuffs and @eclipsaria said today.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ pairing... svt x reader
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ genre... smau, fluff???, smut??
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ trigger/content warning... mature/nsfw content - minors dni, a lot of phallic symbols, freaks, jealousy, breeding, mentions of p0rn?, leg spreading, swearing, mingyu's feelings, pls let me know if i missed anything!
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging!
a/n... literally pumped this out in half an hour because of how inspired i was LMFAO... i did not mean to post this fast again but here we are YAYYY!! please thank yuki and cel for these amazing one liners... i was shocked once, twice, thrice, and then a bijillion times. i tried to make it more pg but it was kinda hard...
SYNOPSIS. Chan has had a massive crush on you since the day he first saw you. He never thought he’d have a chance with you, since you were so obviously out of his league. But it turns out life has a way of writing the right things with crooked lines.
PARING. Lee Chan x F!Reader
GENRE | TAGS. Oneshot, non idol!au, comedy, fluff, pinning, down bad!chan, acquaintances to lovers, smut.
WC. 20k (sorry)
RATING. Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI).
WARNINGS. Explicit language, alcohol consumption, allusion to use of weed, mentions of cheating, Chan is down bad to the point he is doubting himself, reader has an unspoken noona kink, switch!chan, switch!reader, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), fingering, face sitting, pussy eating, cum eating, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie.
AN. Officially my first Chan fic and I’m SO happy I finally get to post it... hope you love it as much as I loved writing it! Also, since I forgot to say it earlier: this whole fic is based on End Up Here by 5SOS.
🎧 SOUNDTRACK. end up here – 5 seconds of summer; i would – one direction; obviously – mcfly; loverboy – a-wall; best friend – rex orange county; espresso – sabrina carpenter; out of my limit – 5 seconds of summer; shup and dance – walk the moon; heart out – the 1975; intoxicated – the cab; wait – dino.
He knew the exact moment you walked into the apartment. At this point, it was as if he had a sixth sense for your presence, a Y/N sense, if he had to name it.
Not that it was hard to tell when you did, since every face in the room turned the moment you walked in. Most people already knew who you were, and those who didn’t? Well, their expressions made it very clear: they were dying to find out.
There was this energy about you that demanded attention, even when you weren’t trying. It wasn’t just the way you carried yourself—though that certainly played a part—it was the way people gravitated toward you, their eyes lingering, their conversations subtly shifting as if they were waiting for you to say something, to do something.
And he, well, he had always been attuned to it. To you. Even before he truly understood why.
Tonight, when you walked through the doors of his apartment looking absolutely breathtaking, Chan felt his head spin. It could have been the ten shots of tequila he’d been forced to drink after losing some random game against Yeonjun a couple of minutes ago, but he knew it wasn’t.
That was simply the effect you’d had on him since the day he first laid eyes on you during orientation day, two years ago. You had been in charge of welcoming the freshmen to their dorm building, and when you smiled at him like he was the most important guy there, he was a goner.
Of course, he knew you were probably just doing your job as a sophomore, but still, your smile had been stuck in his mind ever since.
“Pathetic,” he heard Seungkwan’s voice, followed by a slap on the back of his head.
Chan barely flinched, too busy pressed against the wall watching you every move as you wave through the crowded room like you owned the place. For him, in a way, you did. You weren’t loud about it, didn’t strut around making a scene, but there was an undeniable pull to you, one that made people shift to make space, one that had them leaning in, hoping for even a sliver of your attention.
And him? He was no better than the rest of them.
He tore his gaze away just long enough to shoot Seungkwan — who was looking at him like he was the saddest excuse for a man to ever exist — a glare. Vernon was right beside him, looking high enough to be in another dimension, and yet, was still wearing the same expression as the eldest of the three.
“What?”
Seungkwan sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. “You look like a lovesick puppy. Again.”
It was no secret to anyone that Lee Chan had a huge, enormous and gigantic crush on you. If he was being honest, by this point, it was a surprise you didn’t know—which he had some doubts—, since he wasn’t exactly very skilled at hiding it.
Not that he was openly hitting on you whenever he had the chance, because that was far from his reality. Very far, really. He had never done so and whenever he had a chance to be near you or participate in the same conversation as you, he would turn just as red as the lipstick you were wearing tonight, not to mention the stuttering he didn’t even know he had.
It was a mess. He was a mess.
Not that he would admit that to Seungkwan, anyway.
Chan scoffed, forcing himself to straighten up. “I do not look like a lovesick puppy.”
Seungkwan snorted. “Yeah, and I’m a backing vocal for Beyoncé.”
“You do,” Vernon stated, deadpanned. “Mingi just asked me if you were okay because, and I quote, ‘Chan looks like he just got hit by a truck.’”
Yeah, he was that obvious.
He watched as Seungkwan tilted his head to the side, nudging him with his elbow. “Chan-ah, are you seriously gonna spend the rest of your college years pining after this girl?”
His face flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration tugging at him. Chan opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Because what was he supposed to say? That he wasn’t pining? That he wasn’t completely, utterly, hopelessly gone for you? Even he wasn’t delusional enough to deny it.
Seungkwan, apparently sensing his internal struggle, let out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s what I thought.”
Chan scowled, lifting his drink to his lips only to hide his face and Vernon chuckled, clearly enjoying the way his younger friend was unraveling under the pressure of their teasing.
“Just go talk to her,” he said, voice slow and lazy. “She doesn’t bite, dude.”
“Easy for you to say,” Chan muttered, his eyes flickering back to you, who were now chatting with your friends in the corner. “She’s your friend.”
Oh yeah, there was also this little detail: you were Vernon’s classmate.
Not only were you both seniors, you were also majoring in the same program, meaning you shared the vast majority of your classes. Chan knew you were in the same study group and that you were paired up for most of the projects, which had led to a friendship that he very much envied.
You might think that having a mutual friend would make things easier for him, but you’d be completely wrong. Soon he discovered that Vernon wasn’t willing to help. Not because he didn’t believe Chan had a chance with you, but because he insisted that Chan should grow a pair and talk to you himself.
Which of course, he had already shown incapability of doing so thousands of times.
Seungkwan clicked his tongue. “You really are pathetic.”
“Hyung—” Chan groaned.
“I mean, come on,” his eldest friend cut him off, trying to finish his point. “You can deadlift three plates but you can’t say one sentence to a girl you like?”
Chan glared at him again. “That is not the same thing.”
“Yeah, one requires actual effort,” Vernon added, scoffing.
By now, he was used to all the teasing from his friends. It didn’t keep him from wanting to strangle them any less though.
Either way, there wasn’t much he could do. It wasn’t just about the amount of courage he had or how much effort he put into it; crushing on you for the last two years had felt like playing a game he was destined to lose. Even though in the deepest desires of his mind he was your boyfriend, that role was already filled by someone much older than him.
A Marine dude, apparently. His name? Chan didn’t care.
Not only was he the luckiest dude on the planet by having you as his girl, he was also tall, strong and a walking definition of everything Chan wasn’t: confident, assertive, and the complete opposite of the shy mess he’d been around you since day one. He would probably kill Chan if he could peek into his brain and see all the dreams he had about you over the years.
The guy also irritated the fuck out of him. Something about his attitude, his hundred tattoos, the fact that he was probably three times his height and the way he marked his territory by walking you to every class, every day. Like, damn, dude, we get it, she’s yours. At least let the rest of us appreciate the divine gift the universe sent us by looking at her.
Every time Chan saw him, he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of the competition. The worst part? You didn’t seem happy with him and everyone knew it. And even though it was clear from every word and every look that you were completely unaware of Chan’s feelings, the thought of you with someone else — someone like him — made his insides twist in ways he didn’t know he could feel.
“She has a boyfriend,” Chan finally said, feeling the bitter taste on the tip of his tongue as he did.
“So?” Seungkwan arched an eyebrow. “I don’t see him here. Do you?”
He directed his last question to Vernon, who just shrugged and shook his head. “Nope.”
Chan swallowed hard, eyes darting toward you again. Sure enough, there was no sign of your boyfriend. Not that he was about to get his hopes up. He had enough self-awareness to know he was probably just grasping at straws, because even if he never existed at all, Chan still wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to walk up to you.
“Look, man,” Seungkwan stared again, breaking through his dark thoughts. “You’ve gotta stop comparing yourself to him. You’re Lee Chan. You have a million things going for you, and besides…” He paused for effect. “You’re way better looking.”
“Thanks for the support,” Chan replied dryly, rolling his eyes.
“Seriously, dude,” Vernon chimed in. “You’re smart, funny, and way more likable than that guy. You just need to show her that.”
Chan sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “It's not that simple, guys.”
“It is that simple,” Seungkwan shot back. “You’re making it complicated.”
Before Chan could argue, the music shifted, the bass thrumming through the floorboards, and a new wave of partygoers stumbled in, laughing and chattering loudly. His attention snapped back to you, just in time to see you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your lips curling into a soft smile at something one of your friends said. The sight alone made his pulse quicken.
Then, as if you could feel his eyes on you, your gaze flickered up and locked onto his.
He froze.
It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t just a glance that skimmed over the room, landing on him by chance. No, this was intentional. You looked at him like you had known he was there all along, like you’d expected to find him in that exact spot, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand and his friends at his side.
And then, as if to send him straight into cardiac arrest, your lips — marked by the most beautiful shade of red he had ever seen — curved into a smile.
For a split second, it felt like the entire world blurred, muffled voices fading into static. Your eyes lingered, holding his in a way that sent a rush of heat down his spine. Then—just as quickly as it happened—, you turned back to your friends, your fingers wrapping around the red cup in your hand and leaving him to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.
He was sure he had just checked off a box on the list of clichés where the lovestruck fool forgets how to breathe. His fingers tightened around the cup in his hand, his heartbeat hammering so loudly he was certain Seungkwan and Vernon could hear it.
Chan looked away just a second before he heard, “She’s coming over,” announced Vernon, and for once, his voice didn’t sound amused. It sounded almost surprised.
He blinked, breaking free from whatever trance he had fallen into. “What?”
Seungkwan’s hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him once. “She. Is. Coming. Over.”
He barely had a second to react before you started making your way through the crowd, weaving between bodies with practiced ease, heading straight toward them. The air in the room seemed to thicken with every step you took in his direction, and though he told himself to stay cool, to not let it show, he knew the battle was already lost. His grip tightened, his pulse a frantic rhythm beneath his skin.
Seungkwan shifted beside him. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he muttered, half under his breath.
“Act normal,” he whispered to himself. Or at least he thought so.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Vernon mumbled.
Chan shot him a glare, but before he could tell his friend to shut the hell up, you were there, standing right in front of him, close enough that he caught the faint scent of your perfume, something so sweet and heady that made his head spin.
“Hello, boys,” you greeted them, your voice light but with a touch of something so soft and delicate that made his breath catch.
Trying to play it cool, Chan swallowed hard as he forced himself to meet your gaze. Up close, you were even more mesmerizing, your eyes alight with something he couldn’t quite place, the corners of your lips curving into the kind of smile that made his stomach flip.
“Hey,” he managed to say collectively with the other two, his voice steadier than he felt.
Beside him, Seungkwan looked like he was barely restraining himself from narrating the entire interaction like he was watching some kind of reality TV show on Netflix: Lee Chan’s Inferno, the live show.
Your eyes flickered between the three of them briefly before settling back on Chan.
“Nice party,” you said, flashing them a smile as you nodded towards the crowd of people scattered around their apartment. “Full house, I’ve been told.”
It was the first party the three of them had thrown since Vernon and Seungkwan became seniors and he a junior. They hadn’t expected it to be a great success, but judging by the number of people in their apartment right at that moment, it seemed they had been wrong.
“Thanks,” they chorused in perfect unison. You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows in curiosity.
“Are you guys okay? What are you drinking?” He knew you weren’t just talking to him, but Chan was pretty sure his soul was leaving his body slowly but surely. “I know for a fact Hansol is just as high as Namsan Tower.”
It wasn’t just that you were standing in front of him, looking every bit like you walked straight out of his dream, it was the way you were looking at him. Like you were actually interested in what he had to say, like he wasn’t just another person in this house, and like you weren’t effortlessly stealing the air from his lungs.
Meanwhile, his brain? Completely fried.
Your laugh—soft, amused and way too pretty—sent something dangerously warm through his chest. You tilted your head to the side, as if you were analyzing his face.
“What’s your name?”
His world seemed to stop for a second.
Even though the two of you weren’t close, or even friends, he was sure you knew his name. I mean, Vernon was one of his best friends. You were Vernon’s friend. You knew his name… right?
This was the worst possible scenario. The girl he had a crush on bigger than the entire Asian continent didn’t know his name? Yeah. The ground could open up and swallow him whole right now, and he wouldn’t even fight it.
This couldn’t be happening.
“You don’t know my name?” He didn’t even know he could finish a whole sentence around you, let alone a question, his voice somehow steady despite the absolute horror pooling in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Seungkwan and Vernon exchanging a surprised and amused look, definitely holding back laughter.
“Oh, I know your name, Channie.” Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. “Just making sure you're still sober enough to remember it.”
Chan felt his face heat up instantly, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over him all at once, brain barely registering the sweet way you said his name. Seungkwan outright cackled, slapping his knee, while Vernon just shook his head with a knowing smirk.
“Oh.” Was all Chan managed to say at first, his brain short-circuiting at the way you looked at him, teasing, confident, completely in control of the situation. “Chan. Lee Chan.”
You tilted your head, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Good.”
Suddenly, Chan was painfully aware of how close you were. Close enough that he could count the faint shimmer of highlight on your cheekbone, see the way your lashes fluttered when your gaze briefly flickered down to his mouth? No. He had to be imagining that. Maybe he had had a little too much tequila. Maybe it was time to put his cup down, go to his bedroom and sleep.
He blinked. Then, realized he had been silent for far too long.
“I—uh—” he started, then immediately hated himself for it. He could already feel the tips of his ears getting hot from how red they possibly were.
“He’s fine,” Seungkwan answered for him. “We’re all fine.”
You just smiled again, that knowing, unreadable smile that sent Chan’s pulse into overdrive. “If you say so.”
Vernon cleared his throat. “So, uh…” he was clearly trying to fill the awkward silence that Chan had created. “Are you having fun?”
“I just got here, actually,” you said, taking a slow sip from your cup. They already knew that, yet they nodded anyway. “But everyone else seems to be having a lot of fun.”
The four of you glanced around the packed apartment, noting also the constant flow of guests coming and going through the front door. Some faces were familiar to Chan, ones he had seen somewhere on campus, while others were completely new. The living room was almost unrecognizable with the couch pushed aside to make room for a dance floor. A mini bar had been set up in one corner with beer and even more booze filled the kitchen for those who wanted specific things.
Everywhere he looked, people were jumping, grinding, kissing, chatting animatedly, smoking and drinking, while plastic cups littered the floor alongside crushed cigarette butts, joints, and scattered snacks trampled underfoot. Chan was so absorbed in your presence that he didn’t even think about the mess he’d eventually have to clean up after the party was over.
The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat and perfume, and honestly, Chan was surprised none of the neighbors had called the police yet. Sure, the homecoming parties that were happening around campus this time of year were always packed, but this one was on another level, and he felt very proud of it.
The music thumped steadily, neon lights casting shifting colors over the crowd. Then Seungkwan threw out another question for you, so casually that Chan almost missed his intention. “Did you come alone?”
“Well, I came with Nayoung and Dahyun,” you replied, shrugging. “But I lost them somewhere by coming here to talk to you guys.”
Seungkwan shot Chan a look—one that screamed don’t mess this up—before turning back to you with a knowing smile. “Ah, so you chose to be here with us instead of running off to find them?”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I guess I did.”
Chan, who had been determinedly sipping his drink to avoid making a fool of himself, nearly choked. His mind latched onto your words like they meant something far deeper than casual conversation.
Seungkwan smirked. “Makes sense. We’re a great company.”
You grinned. “Exactly.”
“So your boyfriend’s…” Vernon trailed off.
“Not here.”
The words slipped out of your mouth like a subtle declaration, and just like that, Chan felt the weight of it. Your boyfriend wasn’t here. For some reason, the confirmation made him feel a little lighter, though he knew that was dangerous territory.
He had no right to feel relieved. You weren’t his, after all.
Seungkwan raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “Really? No boyfriend? That’s new.”
You shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by his teasing tone. “He’s busy with something, I guess.”
You glanced down briefly, scratching behind your ear before your eyes flicked over to Chan again, catching his gaze for a fraction of a second before he quickly looked away, embarrassed by the sudden spike in his heartbeat.
“Ohhh,” Seungkwan dragged out, exchanging another look with Vernon. “So you’re free to enjoy the night however you want.”
You let out a hum, tilting your head slightly as if considering his words. “I suppose so.”
Chan took another sip of his drink, trying to play it cool once again, but his grip was a little too tight around the cup. His mind was running a mile per minute, filled with thoughts he probably shouldn’t be having.
“You seem awfully interested in that drink.” You pointed to his cup, raising a curious eyebrow and shifting your weight to one leg, one hand resting on your hip. “What are you drinking?”
Chan glanced down at the red cup in his hand like he’d never seen it before. In truth, he had no idea what was in it, he’d grabbed it off the counter earlier when someone shoved it at him, too distracted by your presence to care.
“Uh…” He swirled the liquid inside, like that would magically tell him what it was. “Something… alcoholic?”
Seungkwan groaned beside him. “Wow. Smooth.”
You chuckled, the corner of your lips quirking up. “That’s very specific, Channie.”
Chan nearly choked. The way you said his name so casually, so effortlessly, made his brain short-circuit again.
Everything he wished for — right after you, of course — was that he had scientific explanations for the way his body and brain reacted to your actions and words. And even then, maybe it wouldn’t be enough for him.
I mean, Chan was a popular guy. A lot of people knew him around the campus. Hell, he was the current best dancer on the program since Xu Minghao had graduated, packing the school theater every time he performed, and he also wasn’t exactly unknown among girls; he wasn’t particularly proud of it, but he had a reputation.
So why was it that, whenever he was around you, he acted like a complete loser?
It was a case to be studied closely and for days, perhaps years.
Seungkwan, probably sensing that Chan was never going to get a full sentence out at this rate, answered for him. “Tequila. Too much tequila. Yeonjun was bullying him a little.”
At the mention of Yeonjun, you hummed in amusement, your lips pressing together like you were holding back a laugh. Then, without warning, you reached forward and plucked the cup from his hands, bringing it to your lips for a sip. You pulled a slight face at the taste, but to Chan’s absolute horror (and delight), you took another small sip before handing the cup back to him.
“Sounds about right,” you mused, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “And how’s that going for you?”
Chan blinked.
“Oh, you know…” he forced out, voice slightly rougher than intended, “just trying to stay upright.”
It was a miracle. He had managed to form a coherent sentence.
You laughed, and Chan felt like he had just been hit with a wave of relief. The sound was like music to his ears. “Well, that’s an important skill to have.”
Seungkwan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like pathetic, but Chan was too busy trying to figure out if you were just being nice or if there was something more behind your words.
“So…” you mused, drawing out the word as if weighing it in your mind. “You having fun?”
Fun. Right. That was why he was here. “Uh. Yeah. It’s a party, so… yeah.”
You raised an eyebrow. “That convincing, huh?”
Chan cleared his throat, trying to wrest away the heat creeping up his neck. “I mean, yeah. I’m having fun.” He nodded a little too enthusiastically as if trying to convince both of you.
You just hummed, unconvinced, tilting your head just slightly. The way your eyes scanned his face sent his brain into overdrive. Was he being obvious? Did you know?
But before he could embarrass himself further, the speakers erupted with the unmistakable intro of Livin’ On A Prayer by Bon Jovi, and the entire room burst into excited screams. Just like you, who threw your head back and let out a moan of happiness.
Chan was certain he felt his entire body shiver at the sound, his mind drifting to places it definitely shouldn’t. He was pretty sure he was already halfway to living on a prayer.
“I love this song,” you said, eyes lighting up and a smile so radiant it nearly knocked him off his feet.
Two seconds later, and before any of them could say anything, Dahyun called your name from across the room. “Come dance with us.”
You turned your head slightly, offering her a small nod of acknowledgment before looking back at them.
“I have to go.” You pointed with your thumb over your shoulder at your friend like they haven’t seen her there, shattering Chan’s dream of spending more than ten minutes near you. “See you guys around.”
His heart sank a little at your departure, the moment slipping away faster than he could grasp it. He opened his mouth, almost as if to protest, but the words never made it past his lips. He was still fumbling, unsure of what to say or do in this kind of situation.
But then you gave him one last smile—quick, but enough to leave him breathless—and started to turn away. You took a few steps forward, then stopped, turning around and staring directly at him; not at him, Vernon and Seungkwan, just him.
“I love your shirt, by the way.”
And just like that, you were gone, moving through the crowd again, leaving him standing there with his heart pounding and his mind reeling, staring in astonishment at the Kurt Cobain shirt he was wearing.
Seungkwan snorted beside him, pulling him out of his daze. “You’re hopeless.”
Chan, still staring after you, muttered, “I know.”
You had disappeared from the party half an hour ago, using the excuse of heading to the bathroom, only to end up on the balcony of one of the bedrooms with an unlocked door.
To be honest, you weren’t really in the mood for partying tonight, but after Nayoung and Dahyun insisted so much on getting you out of your room, despite your repeated insistence that you weren’t affected at all by the recent events in your life, you eventually agreed to join them.
So far, it had been a lot of fun; you’d danced with your friends, played beer pong and pool with people you didn’t even know and a couple of people you did know. But when everyone decided it was time to start a game of seven minutes in heaven, you knew it was time to get away, especially since the only person you wanted to kiss wasn’t in the circle and was clearly avoiding you, as he always did.
That person was currently somewhere in the living room, probably laughing at something his friends said, or even kissing someone in the coat closet, completely unaware of how much space he took up in your thoughts.
With a sigh, you sat down at the railing, the cool night air a relief against your flushed skin. The music from the party thumped through the walls, muffled but still loud enough to remind you of the chaos inside. You were fine with missing the game, better than sitting there, pretending you wouldn’t feel a pang of jealousy if someone else pulled his name.
That last one, of course, was a scenario you created in your own head where he decided to show up and play just because the universe hated you that much.
You weren’t even sure when it had started, this thing. The way your eyes always searched for him in a crowd, the way your heart did that stupid little skip whenever he smiled at you, especially at times when he didn't seem to realize he was smiling. Maybe it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to make itself known and now was the perfect opportunity for it, considering all circumstances.
Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the door creak open behind you until the warmth of another presence filled the space.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
It was nearly two in the morning when Chan finally decided he’d had enough of the party. You had disappeared a while ago to God-knows-where, and even though your friends were still in the living room playing seven minutes in heaven, he was pretty sure you’d gone home without them. Your boyfriend had probably swung by to pick you up at some point—like he always did—and Chan miraculously hadn't noticed.
All night long, he had watched you from afar, dancing and playing games with his friends. You were laughing with Vernon, teasing Seungkwan, and even giving Yeonjun a hard time. You looked completely at ease, like you belonged there somehow. But every time his gaze lingered on you, he felt that familiar twist in his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly, but the kind of longing that made his chest tighten in a way that hurt.
You were surrounded by his friends, sure, but in his mind, you were still just very much out of reach.
Now, Chan was exhausted, tired of feeling like a failure for not having the courage to approach you, even just to start a conversation. He hadn’t taken Vernon’s advice, hadn’t shown you how much better he could be than your boyfriend. So, instead of dwelling on it any longer, he simply said goodbye to everyone and headed to his bedroom.
After cursing himself for forgetting to lock the door, Chan headed inside, silently thanking the universe that no one was there. Everything was in place, neat and undisturbed, clearly showing it hadn’t been used as a place for a couple to make out, or worse. After finally locking the door behind him, he sat on the edge of the bed, calmly taking off his shoes as he recapped the night in his head.
He sighed, lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Seungkwan was right: this was getting pathetic, really. He had talked to people all night, joked around, even had a decent time despite the chaos around the apartment. But when it came to you, his heart always raced in a way that made him second-guess every single move.
He was such a big fool.
A fool for you, apparently.
For a brief moment, Chan watched as the long curtains that divided the room from the balcony swayed in the wind, revealing a figure sitting on the railing.
When the fabric shifted again, his breath caught in his throat. It was unmistakably you perched on the balcony railing with your legs dangling over the edge, one hand resting casually against your knee. Even under the dim glow from the city lights below, he knew that silhouette by heart. He didn’t know how long you had been out there, but seeing you, calm and distant and seemingly lost in thought, entirely unaware of him, rooted him to the spot.
He hesitated. Again.
The cool night air slipped into the room, sweeping the curtains aside and making them billow like they were inviting him forward. For a brief moment, Chan considered staying put, convincing himself that you probably just needed some space, some quiet time away from the party. But the thought of you sitting out there by yourself pulled at him, tightening something deep in his chest. It felt like the universe was placing a second chance right in front of him, daring him not to waste it this time.
Before he could overthink, before doubt could drag him back down, Chan pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room toward the balcony.
He reached the balcony door quietly, not wanting to startle you. The breeze hit his face as he stepped outside, the sound of music and laughter from the party still faintly echoing in the distance. Chan took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, but it was hard when you were so close, when all it took was one glance to unravel him completely.
You looked like an angel sitting there, and his brain nearly short-circuited when he noticed you were wearing the hoodie he had left on the chair earlier that day.
Chan never really liked people invading his space — especially his room — and even less so when they were uninvited. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have kicked them out on the spot. But this was you. Not only did it not bother him, but he found himself loving the sight of you in his clothes.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
You turned your head at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise at his appearance. “Chan?”
The way your voice sounded when you said his name — disbelieving — made it seem like you were the one wondering if he was real, not the other way around. And he couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Hey,” Chan managed to say, words just loud enough to be heard over the distant music. “Are you alright?”
You nodded, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Just needed a break. Parties aren’t really my thing.”
Chan hesitated for a beat before leaning against the railing beside you. His posture was a little stiff, like even though it was his bedroom, he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to be there, intruding on your moment alone. Yet, somehow, your presence made him and the space feel calmer.
“I get it,” he said quietly, his gaze shifting down to the street below. “I kind of feel the same way sometimes. All the noise, all the people, it’s a lot.”
You chuckled softly, turning slightly toward him. “You? A dance major?”
He really wanted to use this opportunity with you to make a good impression and follow his friends’ advice. But when he looked at you again, his brain went into a tailspin trying to process the way his hoodie looked on you, as if they’d been made for you just as much as for him.
Still, Chan forced himself to get the words out.
“Yeah. Well, dancing is… different,” he admitted, glancing at you with a small, almost sheepish smile. “It’s loud, sure, but it makes sense, you know? It’s the kind of noise I can control.”
You hummed in understanding, swinging your legs slightly. “And parties?”
“Not so much.”
A comfortable silence settled between you, the distant music from the party below blending with the rustling trees. The longer Chan stood beside you, the more his nerves settled, though that didn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest. He had spent so long watching you from a distance, convinced that any moment spent too close would give him away. And yet here you were, wrapped in his hoodie, on his bedroom balcony, as if you belonged there.
Chan opened his mouth, but nothing came out, as usual. He was already surprised that he had managed to form other sentences before, since his brain was still trying to catch up with everything that’s happening.
God, you were standing in his bedroom—his bedroom—at two in the morning.
He couldn’t help but wonder if you had any idea what you did to him with just a small action.
You shifted a bit, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, the breeze tugging at your hair while you analyzed his well-defined profile.
You’d known Chan and his friends long enough to recognize their signature chaos. They moved like a unit, very loud, unfiltered, and unapologetically themselves. Each one matching and amplifying the other’s quirks without a single trace of embarrassment. It was refreshing. Maybe that was why you liked being around them so much; they weren’t like the typical guys you met on this campus.
Every now and then, you’d end up hanging out with one of them. Sometimes it was Vernon, your friend, your classmate, basically unavoidable. Other times it was Seungkwan, who somehow knew everyone and always drifted into whatever group you were in.
Lee Chan, however, was the one you barely ever heard speak. You could never tell if he was always that quiet… or if he just became that way around you. You suspected it was the last one.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” The question left you in a light tone, trying to keep the mood casual, though there was an underlying curiosity in your voice.
Chan laughed under his breath, running a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed but still amused by it. He scrambled for words, anything to not look like a complete idiot. “I—uh. No, I mean, I do. Sometimes. I talk.”
Brilliant! Just brilliant.
For someone who was usually a yapper, he had become an expert at being at a loss for words around you. Before this moment, Chan hoped you wouldn’t notice, but your question showed him that was clearly not the case.
Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. But it wasn’t in a cruel way, not like you were laughing at him. “That’s good to know,” you replied, nodding like you were filing the information away for later.
He couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips, even with the awkwardness hanging in the air. Only this time, it wasn’t heavy. You didn’t make him feel self-conscious. If anything, you made him feel noticed, and something about that sent a slow warmth spreading through him.
“I promise I can carry a conversation most of the time,” he defended himself, shoulders lifting in a small shrug, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Just… not always the best at small talk.”
You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Small talk is overrated anyway.”
Silence settled between you, strangely comfortable. From where you stood, the cheers of the crowd faded into the background with each new pair being chosen, distant enough to feel like the two of you were sealed off from the rest of the world. Right here, it was just you and him, standing at the edge of something Chan couldn’t quite name.
He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing the concrete railing as he debated whether he should say more, whether he should push this moment just a little further or not, since you seemed to be enjoying your own company until a few minutes ago, even if it was in his room.
The only thing he didn’t want to do was let it slip away.
So instead, he asked the question that had been circling in his mind the moment he spotted you through the curtains. “So, uh… how did you find my room?”
Chan watched as you suddenly froze, eyes widening as his question sank in. Your gaze followed his, tracing down to the hoodie hanging loosely on your frame, and the realization hit you. A soft laugh slipped past your lips and it sent his pulse straight into overdrive.
“Oh shit.” You blinked rapidly, the disbelief written all over your face. You seemed to realize the absurdity of the situation at the exact same moment the words slipped past your lips, your gaze flickering between him and the hoodie. “Wait, no—” you rushed out, clearly flustered. “I wasn’t snooping or anything, I swear. I didn’t even realize this was your room. I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t come in here to—”
“You just… what?” he asked, the words slipping out before he could catch them.
He was still trying to process all of it. you, standing in front of him, frustration and embarrassment coloring your face, and wearing his hoodie of all things — did he stress that enough?
Chan had spent the entire night convinced he’d already ruined every chance he might’ve had with you, and now here you were, undoing every conclusion he’d drawn.
You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. There was no way this could be less embarrassing. “I was looking for a quiet place to hide from the whole seven minutes in heaven thing. I found an unlocked door, thought it was an empty guest room, and uh… turns out, it wasn’t.”
He stared at you, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “And the hoodie?”
A sheepish smile tugged at your lips. “It was on the chair. It was cold. Thought it looked comfy.”
It was comfy. But that wasn’t the point.
He swallowed, trying not to let the warmth spreading through his chest take over his whole body. This—you—was the last thing he expected tonight. And yet, here you were, standing in his room at two in the morning, looking impossibly good in his clothes. Maybe the universe was on his side after all.
You stayed seated there, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you should stay or go. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, but for the first time all night, Chan didn’t feel like running away.
Instead, he exhaled, leaning back as he met your gaze. “Well,” he murmured, forcing a small smirk. “It looks better on you anyway.”
He had no idea where this sudden courage was coming from. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in his system, even though hours had passed since his last drink. Maybe it was the cool night air. Whatever it was, he was just glad he had found the nerve to flirt with you. Even if just a little bit.
Your lips twitched, and for a second, he thought you might say something. But then you just shook your head, voice quieter now, almost shy. “I’m sorry for invading your space. Do you want me to leave?”
Chan swallowed hard. He knew what the right answer was. Knew what Vernon and Seungkwan would tell him to do. Knew that you still had a boyfriend. But with you standing there, wearing his clothes, looking at him like that. Yeah. He was completely screwed.
“No, stay,” he blurted out, a little too eagerly. Then, realizing how desperate he must’ve sounded, he cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “I mean… if you want to.”
You tilted your head, watching him in that way that made his stomach flip. “You sure?”
Chan let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. Still, he wanted to make sure. “Yeah. Unless you want to go back?”
You glanced toward the door, as if weighing your options, before exhaling a small laugh. “Not really.”
He tried not to read too much into it. He tried not to let the fact that you were still standing there, apparently in no rush to leave, get to his head. “Then stay,” he said again, softer this time.
You held his gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering in your eyes.
“Okay,” you said at last. Then your lips curved into a teasing smile. “But only if I get to keep the hoodie.”
Chan huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. Like he could ever say no to you. “Fine. You can keep it.”
You grinned. “Thanks, Chan.”
“I mean… I might have to fight you for it later.”
“Oh, I’d win,” you shot back without hesitation, a smug little smirk playing at your lips.
And god, Chan believed you. Because you would only need to say the words and that hoodie would be yours forever.
There was a comfortable silence between you after that again, just the weight of the night settling in. The distant cheers from downstairs had died down a little, and the music had shifted to something slower, more subdued. It felt like the whole world had softened around the edges just for you and him.
You tilted your head slightly, studying him, studying him like you were trying to figure out a puzzle, and Chan felt his pulse jump all over again. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so nervous. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself or the way your eyes were holding an amused curiosity whenever you looked at him.
Or maybe — just maybe — it was simpler than that. Maybe it was because he wanted to be on the receiving end of the softness you reserved for your boyfriend.
At the thought of him, Chan’s expression faltered slightly, and he turned away, gripping the railing a little tighter than necessary. He had no right to feel the way he did, no right to want things he couldn’t have. But he was here now, alone with you in the quiet of the night, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that things were different.
Chan turned to you again, watching as you stared out at the horizon now. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he spoke next, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them. “So where’s your boyfriend?”
If you were surprised by the question, you didn’t let it show. He saw you lowering your head and letting out a not very happy laugh through your nose.
The truth was, you were surprised by his question, but at the same time, you weren’t. Jongin wasn’t exactly known for being non-territorial; he was always where you were, and when he couldn’t be, he made sure to show up at some point. But the way Chan’s question slipped out so easily, so curious, paralyzed all your instincts—the ones that told you to take it slow, to breathe between the end of your relationship with Jongin and the leap you were considering to take when you agreed to come here tonight.
And then, the confession slipped out of your lips before your brain could stop it. “He’s...not my boyfriend anymore.”
Chan’s eyes widened slightly at your words. His stomach churned with an uncomfortable mix of relief and confusion, and he blinked a few times, processing your words.
Would he go to hell for feeling immensely happy with that confession you had just made? Probably. And he would slow dance with the devil, grinning from ear to ear nonetheless.
“Not your boyfriend anymore?” he repeated after you. “Why not?”
You shrugged, a casual motion that didn’t match the weight of your words, finally looking up to meet his gaze again. “Didn’t want to be, I guess.”
That was only half true, and you knew it. It wasn’t like you wanted to be his girlfriend either. But still, you weren’t the one who ended things by cheating on him with his step sister. You’d probably still be with him if he hadn’t decided to put an end to it in the worst way possible, even if your heart was beating for someone completely different already.
Was it weird that you felt relieved to be cheated on, because it finally gave you a reason to leave?
“Then he’s an idiot,” Chan muttered with no hesitation. Like it was a fact, not a judgment.
When you looked at him, his eyes were filled with genuine empathy. You smiled gratefully, appreciating his compassion. Not wanting to weigh the moment, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”
Chan frowned slightly. “I doubt it,” he said, before adding, “But why?”
You shrugged again. “It wasn’t like I was dying to stay in that relationship, you know.”
The way you said it, almost too calmly, threw him off. I mean, he knew you weren’t very happy in your relationship; it was evident in your body language around Jongin. But he didn’t expect it to go as far as you wishing you weren’t actually in it.
He wanted to ask more, to understand what had happened, but a part of him feared that prying would make him sound even more pathetic. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing on, his voice low and a little uncertain. “Wait, so you didn’t want to be with him either?”
You didn’t hesitate, your expression not betraying any emotion, but your voice was a little more sharper when you replied. “Not really. I didn’t even like him in the end. I guess I just stayed longer than I should have because it was… comfortable.”
“That doesn’t sound like a great reason to stay.”
Chan bit his lip, trying to digest your words. Part of him wanted to reach out, to comfort you somehow, but he didn’t know where to start. The realization that you were no longer with him, the guy who seemed to have always been in the picture, stirred something in him, like a sense of hope he wasn’t prepared to feel tonight. But he kept it buried, not wanting to come off too eager, too quick to assume.
“It wasn’t,” you admitted. “But it’s hard to walk away from something when you don’t have a reason big enough to leave.”
“And what finally made you leave? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“You’re funny.” You smiled, head tilted to the side as you locked gazes with him. “I’ve never really got to actually talk to you before. Yet, here we are,” you gestured to the space between you with your hands. “I like this side of you. Curious and talkative Chan.”
“Yeah?”
He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, even though a smile tugged at his lips. He was happy that being alone with you had finally awakened that side of him: more talkative, made him braver, lighter, more him.
You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I do.” Then you sighed, before saying, “To answer your question: he cheated on me with my step sister.”
His eyes widened and suddenly he was back to not knowing what to say, so he stayed quiet for a moment.
Chan’s brain raced, his heart pounding. Was it bad that the idea of you being available—of there being a chance for something, whatever it might be—be the only thing that appeared in flashing neon signs in his head?
Either way, he was glad you had gotten out of a relationship that clearly wasn’t good for you. He was happy that you had gotten rid of the asshole who was known for only dating girls ten years younger than him, the asshole who never let you breathe.
“Why did you date him anyway? Guy’s a jerk.” The words escaped his mouth before he could even control them.
“He gave me just the right amount of attention, at the right time,” you answered without hesitation, shrugging again. “Have you ever heard ‘We accept the love we think we deserve’?”
Chan frowned, processing your words. Well, that was sad. The way you spoke about it, almost like you were talking about a lesson learned the hard way, made him feel a pang of sympathy for you.
“I’ve heard of it,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” you continued, eyes searching his face. “I didn't realize I deserved more until the moment I woke up from the trance I’d been stuck in for two years.”
Listening to you confess to him all of this without thinking twice and sounding so sincere, made his stomach twisted with something like a mixture of frustration and admiration. He could see how hard it must’ve been for you, but at the same time, something in him wanted to protect you, to offer the kind of attention and care that wasn’t half-hearted, something real and full of understanding.
Something you truly deserved.
“You do deserve more,” he finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Everyone does. And if you want it, you can have it. No one should make you feel like you don’t.”
Chan hoped you understood the undertone of his words. Though he was genuine in what he said, he wanted to be everything you deserved—the more you could and should have. God knew how much he wanted it, and how far he would go to show you that. But in that moment, he also wanted to offer words of comfort, to be the shoulder you might need.
You didn’t say anything for a while, just standing there, letting the noise of the party hum around you both. Finally, you exhaled.
“It’s hard to let go of what you’ve known, even when it’s not good for you,” you admitted, almost like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But sometimes, I guess you need to make space for something better, even if it’s scary.”
His heart beat faster at your words. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew one thing: this conversation, this moment between you, felt different than anything he had experienced with you before.
“Do you think…” he started, and then stopped, unsure of what to ask. He was afraid that anything he said might ruin the moment.
“Maybe,” you murmured quietly, though your voice didn’t waver, eyes locked on his. “Maybe I need to stop accepting what I think I deserve and start going after what I actually deserve.”
Chan swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The air between you felt charged now, heavier than it should have been. He felt as if he were teetering on the brink of something, something he was not afraid to jump into and also couldn’t stop himself from wanting, hoping you wished the same, even if he was too crazy or delusional to consider that possibility.
Just as he was about to say something, he suddenly felt light raindrops hitting the spot where the two of you were standing on the balcony. The first few drops were light, barely noticeable, but within seconds, the drizzle grew heavier, the scent of rain taking over the air.
Chan watched you look up, your eyes tracing the sky as it darkened, the city below shimmering through the mist. When you turned back to him, he was staring at you, not at the rain, not at the sky, but at you. You met his gaze, and for a split second, everything else faded; the sound of the rain, the distant hum of the city below, even the pounding of his own heart.
He blinked, breaking the spell, his gaze flickering toward the curtain of rain before inevitably returning to you. “Maybe we should go inside,” he suggested, the hesitance in his voice sounding less like uncertainty and more like an offering. Chan was trying to give you an escape, if you wanted it.
You nodded slowly, and without saying a word, you jumped off the balcony railing, following him inside. You looked around the dark room for a second, before saying, “Maybe I should go. I don't want to hold the party host down with me.”
Chan turned to face you, his eyes softening as he took in your words. There was something about the way you spoke, in the tiny pause, the quiet wobble of your voice, that made him want to step closer, to reassure you that you weren’t an inconvenience. If anything, you were the one person he wanted there, more than anything, more than anyone.
“You’re not holding anyone down,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “If anything, it’s me who should be worried about keeping you from having fun.”
“Never,” you replied, sounding casual, though something in your voice slipped past his understanding. Particularly when you added, “Besides, the person I wanted to kiss isn't even downstairs.”
He stopped dead in his tracks, his heart giving a sharp, startled kick. At this point, a heart attack felt like a valid possibility. He blinked, not quite sure if he had heard you correctly, but the way your gaze held his, steady and unflinching, told him that he hadn’t misheard.
Chan cleared his throat, his voice coming out a little too thick for his liking. “Oh? And, uh… who exactly were you hoping to kiss, if not...?” He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer.
As the curtain moved in the wind, bringing the streetlight into the room, he saw a mischievous smile grow on your lips.
What the hell was happening? Was his brain betraying him? Was he imagining this moment? Had he passed out on the bed when he went to his bedroom and was now in a dream, after spending ninety percent of his energy thinking about you at the party he should have been enjoying with his friends?
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you answered, and turned your back to him, eyes immediately darting to the shelf of his trophies from dance competitions and photographs.
Yes, I do! I want to know! Chan wanted to shout, but contained himself.
Instead, he stood there for a moment, unsure whether to follow up with another question, or to let the silence stretch on. The way you spoke, so casually and yet with that playful glint in your eye, made everything feel… electric.
So he simply watched you there, in his room, moving without hesitation, slowly walking over to his shelf, running your finger along the wood and observing each one of his trophies, medals and pictures with meticulous care.
He couldn’t help but think—and wish too—that he could get used to this scene.
The golden plaques gleamed under the dim light, each one marking a victory of his. Some were polished to perfection, while others bore the faintest scratches, proof of the years Chan had spent chasing dreams in the dance field. Your gaze drifted to the framed photographs beside them, each snapshot telling a different story of his life.
There were several photos of him as a little kid, beaming as ever, dressed in performance clothes, on stage, with a medal around his neck. In another, he stood beside his previous performance group, whom you recognized as Kwon Soonyoung, Wen Junhui, and Xu Minghao, their grins wide and carefree. There were also photos with his parents and grandmother, and some with what looked like his younger brother.
Chan was probably the cutest kid you had ever seen, and that realization made you smile genuinely.
“Lee Jung Chan?” you read aloud, curiosity threading through your voice as your eyes went back to his children’s dance trophies. Your fingers brushed over the small golden plaque, the engraving slightly worn from time.
Behind you, he let out a soft chuckle. “It’s my name on my family tree. The government name is just Lee Chan.”
“You went by your full name back then?”
He shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Only because my mom insisted. She said it sounded more professional, like I was already a star or something.”
“It’s cute,” you remarked, throwing him a look over your shoulder. “You were so cute.”
“Yes, well, the kids used to call me Jimmy Neutron.”
You laughed, turning fully to face him. Neither of you had noticed how close you were until you did. If you reached out your arms, you’d only be able to touch each other slightly. But even though both of you thought about it, neither of you made any move to change your positions, continuing your conversation.
“What? Jimmy Neutron?”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair as if reliving the embarrassment. “Yeah. They said my head was too big for my body. And, you know, the spiky hair didn’t help.”
You bit your lip, trying to suppress another laugh. Chan holded his breath at your movement, forcing himself to look elsewhere, forcing himself not to think about your lips or else his blood would rush south.
“I can totally see it now,” you teased, releasing your lip from your teeth and looking between him and the photo on the shelf.
He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Wow, okay. I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am!” You held up your hands in defense. “I just think it’s adorable. And look at you now. You certainly grew into it beautifully.”
Chan smirked, tilting his head and crossing his arms. “So you're saying I look beautiful now?”
You rolled your eyes, turning back to the trophies. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Jimmy Neutron.”
He laughed, stepping up beside you as his eyes skimmed over the shelf briefly, before turning back to you. “Yeah, but I kinda see it. My head was huge.”
You tilted your head, studying one of the photos of him mid-dance, his tiny frame caught in motion. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and black fingerless gloves, hair is slightly messy and spiky, adding to the fun and carefree to his edgy look. His bright smile revealed a gap between his teeth, and you thought to yourself that you’ve probably never seen anything so lovely before.
“Well, I think you were adorable,” you said under your breath, your finger tracing the edge of the frame. “And talented, obviously. All these trophies…”
He shrugged, a little bashful. “My grandmother was really proud of them. She used to polish them every weekend.”
Your smile softened. “She sounds sweet.”
“She is,” he replied, voice tinged with fondness. “She used to call me ‘our little star.’”
Something about the way Chan said it made warmth bloom in your chest. You turned toward him, and he was looking at you again, his expression unreadable but undeniably intense. The streetlights made his features look even more defined, shadows deepening along his strong jawline.
If there was one thing you knew about Lee Chan, it was that he was a star. Every performance he was part of filled the university theater, without failure. Not to mention the countless admirers he had on campus, and with good reason.
Watching him do what he loved was a pleasure simply because he was that good. Confident and unwavering, he dominated the stage effortlessly, as if wrapped in a bubble no one could pierce. It was mesmerizing to witness.
“You still are, you know,” you said gently. “A star.”
His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Just studied you like he was trying to figure something out. Finally, a small, shy smile tugged at his lips. “I think I prefer when you call me cute.”
“Duly noted.”
Chan exhaled a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the desk beside the shelf. “You know, I don’t usually let people snoop around my room like this.”
You glanced at him over your shoulder again, your fingers still lightly tracing over the edge of a picture framed. “Oh? Am I special, Channie?”
You didn’t need to say his name that way, or shape the word with your lips like that. His eyes dipped to your mouth, and a flicker crossed his expression. His eyes met yours.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, you are.”
To mask the fact that your breath hitched slightly, you offered him a playful smirk. “Good to know.”
As Chan moved to sit on the edge of his bed, you continued the exploration of his shelf, eyes stopping at a picture frame in the middle where he was standing between what seemed to be his parents, both of them kissing his cheek sweetly.
“Is your father a dancer too?” you asked, running your fingers over his face on the picture.
“Yeah. My dad and my mom,” he explained. “They kind of stopped after I was born.”
“Wow. It’s in your blood, then.”
Chan nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. My dad always says I got his footwork, but my mom says I got her rhythm.”
You leaned against the table by the shelf, watching him as he spoke. “So they gave it up for you?”
He paused, considering, then nodded. “Yeah. My dad started teaching instead, and my mom focused on raising me. They never made me feel like I took anything away from them, though.”
“That’s love.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Another comfortable silence settled between you as you turned back to the photos, your fingers absently tracing the edges of the other frames. One photo in particular caught your eye. It was from the exact same day you first noticed him, during the university’s annual arts week in your sophomore year.
He was dressed in a white button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, black dress pants, and his hair dyed a faded dark blue. You knew he had worn a tie too because he had taken it off during the performance.
Out of the four members in the unit, he immediately stood out to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but it was as if no one else existed on that stage besides him. Your eyes were locked on him and no one else, watching in awe as he moved across the stage, completely captivated.
“I was there that day, you know?” you pointed out, showing him over the shoulder the photo you were referring to.
Chan’s eyes widened as he stared at it. It was one of the images from his first big performance at the university’s annual arts week back in his freshman year, a moment that had felt like a turning point for him, when everything had clicked. He hadn’t realized anyone had been paying attention back then, least of all you.
“You were?” His voice held a note of surprise. There was something so disarming about the way you were looking at the photo, and then at him.
You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze before turning back. “Yeah. I was in the back, by the side stage,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You were… mesmerizing.”
He felt a warmth spread through him at your words. Chan hadn’t expected to hear something like that, especially not from you.
“Really?” He couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. His brows lifted slightly, as if he was trying to picture it. “How come I didn’t see you?”
“I don’t think you noticed anyone that night,” you teased. “You were in your own world up there.”
He hummed, eyes flickering back to the photo. “Maybe,” he mused, then glanced at you again, a slow smile crept onto his lips. “So, you’ve been watching me all this time, noona?”
There was a teasing edge to his voice and you exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“No?” He titled his head. “Then how would you put it?”
He saw you hesitate for a second, fingers still resting on the shelf. Then, meeting his eyes, you admitted, “I noticed you. That night, and every time after that.”
Chan felt his breath catch in his throat.
There was something about the way you said it—so simple, so honest—that made his heart stutter.
You noticed him.
Not just that night, but every time after.
He had spent years analyzing every interaction you two had ever had. Every glance, every small word, every time you did so much as acknowledged his existence. And now? Now you were standing here, saying things that made his heart race like it was the easiest thing to do.
How did he end up here?
Chan felt lightheaded.
He wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t rare for him to be speechless around you, so there he was again, standing in front of you, feeling like the floor beneath him wasn’t quite solid anymore.
“You noticed me,” he echoed, more to himself than to you.
You nodded, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of the photo before you finally pulled your hand away. “Yeah,” you confirmed, laughing softly. “I did, Channie.”
Chan swallowed. Hard. He wanted to ask why. What was it about him that had caught your attention? Was it his performance? His presence? Something else entirely different?
But instead, he found himself saying, “I wish I’d noticed you in the crowd.”
Your lips parted slightly, but instead of speaking, you simply smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
His fingers twitched at his sides. God, he wished he could go back in time to that night so he could scan every face in the crowd to find you standing by the side stage, maybe watching him with that same look you had now. You weren’t even dating Jongin at the time, and if your words were any indication of what he was imagining, maybe he had missed an opportunity by acting as though you were unattainable. Maybe he had lost precious time.
Chan watched as moved away from the shelf, turning to him entirely. His breath hitched slightly as you stepped closer, each movement deliberate, unhurried. You didn’t hesitate as you sank down beside him on the bed, the space between you shrinking just enough to make his pulse quicken.
The room suddenly felt smaller, quieter, like the world outside had dulled, leaving only the two of you in this charged silence.
He forced himself to breathe, to act natural, even as every fiber of his being buzzed with awareness of your presence beside him. You were close enough that he could catch the faintest trace of the sweetness of your perfume again, making his head spin in the best way.
His eyes stayed fixed on you as you pressed your hands into the mattress and stared at the wall ahead, as if you were deliberately avoiding his gaze for reasons he couldn’t name.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Mhmm.”
You wet your lips, a brief hesitation before finally voicing the thought that had lingered in your mind all night. “Were you avoiding me tonight?”
Chan felt his heart slam against his ribs. “I wasn’t—” he started, then stopped himself because, well… yeah, he had been avoiding you. But only because every time he looked at you, he felt like his brain melted, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to not make a fool of himself.
You smirked, clearly amused by his silence. The question seemed to be answered to you. “That’s what I thought.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t avoiding you, I just—” He paused, eyes lifting to the ceiling and then settling on you again. Halfway through, Chan decided that it was no longer the time to second guess things, so he simply admitted, “You make me very nervous, noona.”
You wished you had an explanation for the way you shivered slightly when he called you noona. But instead, you chose to ignore the feeling, letting the sensation fade into something softer, something more curious.
“I make you nervous?” you repeated, tilting your head slightly as your eyes widened. “That’s a first.”
Chan huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You say that like it’s impossible. I bet–I know I’m not the only one.”
You shrugged. “I don’t know… you’ve always seemed so confident. Especially on stage.”
“That is just an act,” he confessed. “On stage, I could pretend to be someone else for a little while. But you?” He turned to you. “You’re real. You’re right here.”
And he still couldn’t believe it, the words leaving his lips as if he were pinching himself to prove that this was really happening and not just a fever dream.
Hearing him, you wondered what Chan would think if he knew how your stomach was doing backflips because of the way he was looking at you like you were something impossible and unreal all at once.
You hadn’t expected this and most certainly didn't expect him to say something so… vulnerable. Something that made your heart race so fast with all the implications of his words.
“I didn’t mean to make you nervous, Channie,” you whispered, your voice softer now, sounding like you were trying to defend yourself. You had never looked so cute as you did now.
“I don’t think you can help it,” Chan tried to explain, letting out a breathless chuckle. “You know, you probably didn’t know this, but I had a, um… a crush on you.”
Okay, he knew he was straying from the truth. But there was a limit to his courage, and even though he had sensed a bit of flirting between you, he wasn’t about to risk rejection after the nice conversation you’d had tonight, because maybe he was just imagining things.
And he wanted you to walk away from here at least as friends rather than leave an awkward situation for the two of you. He’d rather have you like this than not have you at all. That was why he decided to test the waters with that small lie.
Your lips parted slightly at his confession, your mind racing to process what he had just admitted. “You… had a crush on me?” you repeated, almost like you were trying to make sure you’d heard him right.
Chan nodded, his expression somewhere between amused and nervous. “Yeah. A major one,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Something inside you fluttered at the thought. It seemed like every word that came out of Chan’s mouth was meant to surprise you, even if you didn’t believe he was doing it on purpose. You hadn’t expected this at all, not from him, least of all, not tonight.
“You’re bullshiting me, aren’t you?” you accused, narrowing your eyes playfully.
He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Nope. Dead serious.”
“But you never said anything!”
“Didn’t think you’d be interested.” He shrugged. Then he nudged you with his elbow, playfully. “Plus you had a boyfriend.”
You blinked at him, momentarily stunned into silence.
Didn’t think you’d be interested?
It was absurd to hear those words coming from him, the same person who had commanded every room he walked into without even trying, the same person who had owned the stage so effortlessly that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.
What would he say if you opened your mouth to confess that you’d realized you weren’t happy in your old relationship the moment you started noticing him everywhere? Noticing his smile, the way he blushed when you talked to him, the way he seemed so unreachable, like he wasn’t the least bit interested in getting to know you, always running away when you were around.
Maybe that should’ve been your first clue that he had a crush on you too. But perhaps you were too caught up in your own melancholia to notice.
So, instead of spilling out, you decided to test something. “Is it just in the past?”
Chan’s brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by your question. “What?”
“Your crush.”
“Uhh..”
“Because it would be so sad if it was” you said before you could stop yourself, eyes searching for his.
“Really?”
You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head with a small smile. “Mhmm.”
He swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting at your response. Of all the ways this conversation could have gone, this was not what Chan had expected. Maybe he was in a dream. A very lived one, but still, a dream.
“You—” He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like he had forgotten how to speak. “You think it would be sad?”
You hummed. “Yeah. I think it would be a shame if something like that just… faded away.”
Chan's heart was doing something ridiculous in his chest, and he wasn't sure if it was panic or hope or a chaotic mix of both. He should say something. He should joke about it, keep it light, make sure this moment didn’t carry more weight than it should. But he couldn’t because the way you were looking at him right now felt dangerous.
“Would it?” he managed, clearing his throat in the process.
Your smile again, nodding.
He let out a breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really know how to mess with a guy’s head, huh?”
“Maybe,” You grinned, leaning in just a little. “But only when it’s fun. Besides who says you’re not messing with mine too?”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
You didn’t say anything else and Chan stared at you for a long moment, his mind racing with a million things he wanted to say, a million things he wanted to do. But instead, he smiled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were real. That this moment was real.
He was messing with your head? That’s a first.
“Noted,” he simply murmured.
“What about now?” You looked at him expectantly, not letting silence settle between you.
Chan inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. “Now?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded once more. Chan’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second before he recovered. “Are you asking if I still have a crush on you, noona?”
You rolled your eyes, trying to mask the way your heart had started hammering. “Forget it,” you muttered, getting up from the bed.
He reached out, closing his hand around your wrist, and gently pulled you back to sit on the bed again. For a second, it felt like the world had stopped moving. It all faded into nothing. It was just you and him, standing there in this uncertain space that he used to call his bedroom.
Chan’s throat went dry, and he swallowed hard. His first instinct was to joke, to brush it off, to act nonchalant, as he always did. But the look in your eyes—quiet, expectant, tinged with something dangerously close to hope—left him no room to lie.
And before you could escape the moment, Chan leaned in ever so slightly, just enough that you felt the warmth of him beside you. “For the record,” he started, voice lower now, just for you. “Some things don’t change that easily.”
You turned to look at him, and for the first time that night, you weren’t sure who was more nervous: you or him.
You held his gaze for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile curled at the corners of your lips. “Good.”
Chan blinked. You were going to give him a whiplash.
“Good?”
You nodded, shifting just a little closer, the space between you growing small. “Like I said: it would be really sad if it had faded away.”
A few seconds passed, he just stared at you, his heart pounding, his pulse roaring in his ears. He could barely think, could barely breathe. “Are you messing with me?” he asked, a nervous chuckle slipping out.
“What do you think?” you asked, biting your lip, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re trouble.”
You grinned. “Only when it's fun, remember?”
“Noted.”
Chan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. This time, there was something different in his voice, something lighter, something hopeful.
You kept your lip under your teeth for a second, analyzing him carefully. For the first time, Chan didn’t feel intimidated by your gaze. He didn’t feel exposed. Quite the opposite, his skin felt like it was on fire, but for a very good reason.
Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a fraction of a second. If he hadn’t been watching you so closely, he would’ve missed it.
You were too close. Or maybe not close enough.
“Chan.”
“Yes, noona?”
“Do you wanna kiss me?”
He felt every neuron in his brain misfire at once, completely abandoning him at the worst possible moment.
Did he hear you right?
Did you—did you really just ask him that?
But the way you were looking at him—head bent to the side, eyes locked onto his with quiet amusement—made it clear that he hadn’t.
His fingers twitched against his knee, his pulse hammering in his ears so hard he was sure you could hear it. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Suddenly, every single response he could think of felt either too much or not enough.
He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, the way your gaze never left his, searching, waiting.
“Uh…” He cleared his throat again, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I—um—”
“Because you keep looking at me like you do,” you continued, “and if you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I just thought I’d ask.”
He was absolutely, utterly doomed.
He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Noona, you can’t just ask me that.”
“Why not?”
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Chan let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head.
You grinned. “Is that a yes or a no?”
You were still watching him, waiting, and damn it if he didn’t want to kiss you more than anything. He always had. But now? With you looking at him like that, teasing, testing, daring him? It was like he was malfunctioning.
Yeah, he was probably overthinking this. Hell, scratch that, he was definitely overthinking this. But the truth was, this wasn’t just some random moment to him, with a random person. It was you. And you weren’t just anybody to him.
He didn’t want to screw this up.
But at the same time…
God, he wanted to kiss you. More than he would like to see the sun rise again.
So, he took a breath, gathering every ounce of courage he had left, and finally, finally, he answered.
“Yes,” he admitted, voice quiet but steady. “I really, really want to kiss you.”
Your smile turned softer, less teasing now. “Then what are you waiting for?”
That’s all it took.
Chan closed the space between you, his hesitation melting away the second his lips brushed against yours. It was slow, tentative at first. He wanted to memorize the feeling of your lips, engrave it into his memory in case he never got the chance to do it again. But when you responded to him, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in just a little closer, something inside him snapped completely.
He exhaled sharply against your lips before deepening the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he tilted his head, molding himself to you like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life, and not just two years of it.
If the party outside still carried on, now it felt absolutely muted. The only thing that existed was your lips against his, the way they fit together, your fingers threading through his hair, the soft sound you let out when he nipped your bottom lip.
Chan was dizzy. Overwhelmed.
And completely, absolutely ruined for anyone else.
Your fingers dung into his tight, searching for support, and you felt him groan against your lips. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a reaction deep within you. His hand slipped from the back of your neck into your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he tilted your head to the side, and that was it. You were lost too.
When a soft gasp left your lips at the feeling of him pulling your hair slightly, Chan saw the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips, teasingly, deliberately, claiming the space with an intoxicating slowness. They way kissed you left you breathless, lightheaded, as if he’d stolen the very air from your lungs.
Your knees bumped against his as you tried to move closer, and instead of pulling away, Chan only tightened his grip on you, his arm slipping from your hair to your waist. In one smooth motion, he guided you into his lap, pulling you over his legs until you were straddling him.
A surprised giggle bubbled from your lips at the sudden shift, but he didn’t falter, if anything, the sound only seemed to spur him on. His hands settled firmly on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as if committing your shape to his memory.
One kiss bled into the next, and then another, and another, until the only force pulling you apart was the desperate need for air. Your forehead rested against his for a fleeting moment, both of you panting, neither willing to let go.
Then, with a boldness that sent heat surging through you, you leaned in, taking his bottom lip between yours, sucking gently as your hips rolled forward in an instinctive motion. A groan tore from both of you at the same time at the feeling of you core meeting his half hardened cock for the first time.
Chan’s head tipped back, his throat exposed to you, a silent invitation too tempting to ignore. You pressed an open-mouthed kiss just below his perfect jaw, feeling the way his pulse leapt beneath your lips. His hands traveled slowly and torturously from your hips to your thighs, hovering just above the hem of your skirt, while you traced your tongue over the skin of his neck, giving it a playful nip with your teeth.
His breath hitched at the feeling, gripping on your tights for dear life as his heart raced like crazy. The fire in his veins was undeniable, every inch of him consumed by you. Your touch, the way your lips moved, was driving him to the edge of something he wasn’t sure he could come back from.
As Chan looked at you, his eyes begging to close in pleasure, he was sure his pupils were dilated at the scene before him and the fact that you looked like a goddess on top of him.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispered, a rasp of desire that sent a thrill racing through you.
Your response to his words was to rock your hips against his, feeling his full hardness now pressing your folds through his pants and listening to him whine, breathy and desperate. At the sound of it, you couldn’t help but sink your teeth into his neck, sucking to ensure you left a mark, to ensure everyone saw what you had done to him.
Chan’s breath came in uneven, his body shuddering beneath you as your lips lingered over the mark you’d left on his skin. His hands tightened around your tights, fingers twitching like he was resisting the urge to take things further, to let his restraint unravel completely.
“Fuck,” Chan rasped, his head tilting forward until his forehead rested against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You hummed against him, dragging your lips up toward his ear, reveling in the way he shivered beneath you. “What do you want, Channie?” you teased, nipping at his earlobe.
Your hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips tracing along the defined ridges of his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, his hands now gripping your thighs like they were the only things keeping him grounded, like he was afraid you’d slip away.
His eyes fluttered open, dark and desperate as they locked onto yours.
“You,” he admitted, breathless, “I just want you.”
The raw honesty in his words sent another shiver down your spine. “Then take me, baby,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his jaw, the ghost of a challenge in your voice.
Chan groaned, his hands sliding up from your thighs, gripping your waist with a reverence that made your pulse stutter. His thumbs traced slow, teasing circles against your skin, his restraint evident in the way his fingers flexed but didn’t pull you closer.
“You really are on a mission to kill me, aren’t you?” he whispered, his breath deliciously warm against your lips.
You smirked, tilting your head just slightly, an exhalation away from his mouth. “What gave it away?”
He exhaled sharply, his patience snapping like a thread. One moment, you were teasing him, savoring the slow burn, and the next, he was kissing you like he’d been starving for you his entire life. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, all-consuming, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him.
The heat between you flared, intoxicating and undeniable. Your fingers slid up his chest, tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, breathy moan from his lips. The sound sent a thrill through you, your body pressing closer, chasing the feeling of him, the warmth of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that existed.
His hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your shirt, his touch searing against the bare skin of your inner thighs. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, mapping out every inch of you like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to memorize it, in case this was the last time he’d ever get to.
Your hips rolled instinctively again, pressing down against him, and Chan groaned into your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. “Fuck,” he breathed, his head falling back as he sucked in a sharp breath.
You leaned in, pressing another set of kisses to the column of his throat. “Too much?” you teased, your voice sultry, full of mischief.
Chan’s jaw clenched as he let out a breathless chuckle. “Not even close.”
His hands traveled higher up your thighs, and the moment his index finger traced a slow line over the fabric of your already-soaked panties, a moan slipped from your lips into his. He grunted something unintelligible as he tugged your panties to the side, his fingers finally feeling how wet you were beneath them. Then, he dragged his touch torturously up to your stomach before slipping inside the lace, and you instinctively lifted your hips, giving him better access to where you needed him most.
“Are you this wet for me, noona?” he asked, pulling back to meet your gaze. Two of his fingers pushed inside you, while his thumb circled your most sensitive spot and you cried out. “Is this all because of me?”
You nodded desperately, almost missing the disbelief in his eyes that only fueled the intensity between you. It heighted every touch, made you move in sync with him, your teeth sinking into your lip as he worked you over with deliberate precision, taking his time to drive you absolutely crazy with his fingers moving into and out of you.
“I want you to sit on my face.” His voice didn’t waver; it was an order wrapped in certainty, his eyes darkened with something you’d never seen in him before, something you instantly craved. The sheer weight of it dragged a whimper from your lips.
Still, you can’t help but think about his safety.
“Are you sure?” The words slipped out on a shaky exhale, your breathing already unsteady.
Both of his hands returned to your thighs, slowly trailing up to your ass beneath your skirt.
“Never been more sure in my entire life. Please”
“Fuck. Okay.”
You got off him for a moment, quickly slipping off your boots as you stepped out of the bed. You pulled off your skirt and panties, while Chan got up to remove his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. Then he returned to the bed, sitting comfortably and leaning back on his elbows, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes burned with desire as he watched you slowly take off his hoodie before taking your sweet time freeing your breasts from the tight black corset, clearly on purpose.
When your breasts finally spilled free, his mouth parted slightly, eyes locked onto your hardened nipples as if it were one of the seven wonders of the world.
“Come here, baby.”
You slowly crawled across the bed toward where he was lying close to the headboard, and Chan helped you position yourself on top of him. Each of your thighs settled on either side of his head as you both adjusted, ensuring the position was comfortable for both of you.
“You have the prettiest pussy,” he whispered against you, followed by a groan, and you felt his breath hit your entrance, making you tremble slightly.
You knew that you were so fucking wet that even in the dim light of the room, you were sure he could see your folds glistening. But instead of feeling embarrassed, a thrill ran through your body when you glanced down and saw Chan licking his lips, his eyes locked onto your core just inches from his face. He stared at you like you were the most delicious meal he was ever going to have in his life.
“You smell delicious, noona.” The way he spoke made you moan softly, your hands instinctively moving to squeeze your breasts. “Bet you taste even better.”
Chan gripped the back of your thighs, pulling you closer until your heat was right in front of his face, his eyes drinking in the sight. His lips found your inner thigh first, sucking a mark into your soft skin, slow and deliberate.
When he finally placed his lips exactly where you needed him, your hands flew straight to grip his hair, holding tightly between your fingers as your legs trembled from the indescribable sensation of his mouth on you. Still, Chan sensed that you were trying to hold back, worried about hurting him, so as soon as you shifted just an inch away from his face, he pushed you back down, holding you tight against him.
The gasp that left your lips was a sound you’d never made before, completely immersed in the pleasure he was giving you. His nose nudged against your clit, his tongue gathering your arousal before his mouth moved over you with deliberate hunger, like a man who had been starving for far too long.
“So good, Channie,” you cried out, body almost falling forward. “Holy fuck!”
The way Chan’s mouth moved on you was pure, unrestrained hunger, and it felt so good that, only for a moment, you entertained your brain with the idea that his mouth was made to do exactly what he was doing: eating your pussy. His lips cupped your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bud with slow strokes, alternating with long, deep sucks that made you shiver around him.
His tongue circled your entrance, sliding in as more of your slick spilled into his mouth, all for him to savor. The taste of you—god, he never wanted this to end. All day, every day, Chan was sure he could do this for the rest of his fucking life. All he wanted was to drown himself in this, inside the wet dream that was you with your pussy right in his face.
Your hands pulled his hair tightly after one particularly harsh suck on your clit, back arching deliciously. Your moans were the only sound filling the room and Chan was pretty sure this was the soundtrack of paradise and he couldn’t wait to get there.
When his hands moved to your ass, squeezing tightly, it was as if the last shred of self-control in his body had evaporated. You started to rock your hips instinctively, grinding against his face desperately to chase your release while his nose offered you the most earth-shattering sensations.
“Oh my god, Chan,” you choked out, closing your eyes shut.
“Hmm.” His hum sent vibrations through your core and suddenly you had to use his shoulders for balance or you would have fallen forward on the bed.
Chan was certain he had died and gone to heaven the moment you started grinding against his face. He could feel your legs tense around his head, and when he opened his eyes to take in the scene above him—hands traveling up your body until they reached your breasts, squeezing them tightly—the way your face crumpled and the sounds escaping your parted lips, Chan knew he was in love.
He was done. Gone.
There was no one else for him in this world.
Only you.
You.
You.
You.
You bucked your hips against his face with more urgency as his thumbs rolled over your nipples in the most delicious way. His other hand found your neck, wrapping around it and squeezing lightly, and your head fell back, granting him free access to do whatever he wanted with you. At that moment, the familiar, intoxicating tingling built in the pit of your stomach, moans and sighs spilling from your lips more desperately and loud as you tightened your legs around his head.
“Hmm, suffocate me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick and low.
That was all it took for your orgasm to crash over you in the most intense way, your mind bubbling with euphoria, completely lost in a haze of pleasure.
Chan licked and sucked up every last drop, swallowing your release in loud gulps as if it were the only thing capable of keeping him hydrated. As you let go of his shoulders and collapsed onto the bed beside him, your legs, weak as jelly, trembled uncontrollably, matching the shivers that ran through the rest of your body.
When you looked at him, you saw the dazed, blissed-out expression on his face mirroring your fucked-out one, like he were the one who had just come. His red lips were parted, his chin glistening, and you couldn’t resist the dopey smile on his face. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, tasting yourself on him. With a strength you didn’t even know you had, especially right now, you pulled him on top of you, parting your legs so he could fit there.
Chan barely had time to register the movement before letting out a small chuckle. He broke the kiss for a second, brushing your hair from your face to meet your eyes, your pupils blown wide with a desire that was reflecting his own.
He could only be dreaming.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips.
Normally, words like that spoken so close would have made you shy. But right now, you could feel his hard length—aching, neglected, and probably leaking—pressing against your inner thigh through the fabric of his pants.
Your hands traveled from his chest to his pants and you fumbled with his belt, struggling for a moment until your fingers remembered how to work. You unfastened his zipper, hands moving with growing urgency each passing second. As you pushed his pants down, your fingers traced the firm and defined lines of his abdomen, the sharp cut of his hips, and the soft hair on the back of his thighs.
The moment you managed to free him from his underwear, Chan’s cock rested on your hip, hard and thick. He groaned at the feeling of your skin against him and you arched into him, desperate to feel more, to press him even more against you, to take him in.
“Wanna ride you, Channie,” you told him, leaning forward to kiss him again. You reached between you, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling him thick and burning hot against your palm.
Chan let out a shaky breath at your words, his grip on your waist tightening instinctively. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours and your parted lips, as if trying to ground himself, trying to believe that this was actually his reality and not just another figment of his imagination.
“You don’t have to feel obligated, baby.”
“I want it.” You batted your pretty eyelashes at him, and he was lost. “Please.”
“Okay, noona.”
Your fingers brushed over his jaw, tilting his face up to meet your lips in another deep, searing kiss. Every part of you was incredibly drawn to him, turned on by him, the heat between you almost unbearable now. Slowly, deliberately, you rocked your hips forward, savoring the way his breath stuttered against your lips.
“You were driving me insane,” he groaned, his hands tightening their hold on you.
You smiled, feeling the way his pulse raced beneath your lips. “Good. Now lay back for me, baby.”
Chan didn’t argue. He shifted slightly, scooting back and patting his thighs in invitation for you to hover over his cock. The dim light cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the curve of your back and the way your hair fell around your shoulders. He watched you, his breath catching in his throat as you met his gaze. He lay back and propped himself up on his elbows again, anticipation thrumming through his veins.
You moved with a slow, deliberate grace, straddling him once again, your bare pussy covering his length. The feeling of his cock against your lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you also felt him trembling a little beneath you.
You paused, savoring his gaze locked on you. His eyes were filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. Smiling down at him, you slid your pussy against his cock, feeling his head rub on your clit. A simultaneous moan escaped from both of you. The next second, his lips were on your breasts, sucking and squeezing the flesh with both hands, clearly impressed by how responsive and sensitive you were to his touch.
After a particularly harsh suck, he released your nipple with an audible pop, the sound echoing in the still-charged air. A smile spread across his face as he watched the flush recede from your skin, leaving a rosy imprint in its wake.
“Beautiful.” He licked your nipple one more time, gaze locked on yours, as he said, “There’s a condom on the nightstand.”
He didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive.
“Didn’t you wanna take me raw, Channie?” You pouted, sliding forward again. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.”
He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat working as he fought for control. Your words, so casually spoken, were a potent aphrodisiac, fueling the fire that already burned within him. The feel of you against him, the heat radiating from your core, was intoxicating, clouding his judgment, making it hard to think straight.
The thought of skin on skin, of being completely, utterly connected to you, was a temptation he wasn’t sure he could resist. His gaze drifted up to your lips, then lower, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the way your hips moved against his. He could feel himself hardening even more, his body betraying his attempts at restraint.
“Fuck, noona,” He breathed. “Don’t say shit like that.”
“So?” you purred, meeting his gaze.
“I’m clean too. Put it in. Please.” The words were a raw plea, a confession of his surrender.
Another soft moan escaped you as you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance. You lowered yourself onto him inch by inch. The way he fit inside you felt achingly right, as if your bodies had been carved for each other.
Chan groaned as you took his full length in, his hands instinctively reaching for your waist, holding you tight against him. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening with passion, while you pushed him just a little to lay down so you could use his chest for support.
“Fuck,” he cursed out, griping your sides. “You feel so good.”
You began to move, slowly at first, teasing him with each gentle sway of your hips. The rhythm between you built, a slow, sensual dance that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your bodies. Chan’s hands tightened on your waist, guiding you, encouraging you, as he moaned softly, his head falling back against the pillows.
“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, voice rough. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.” He arched his back, pushing himself further into you. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he urged you on. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Another slow smile spread across your face. The power you held over him was intoxicating to you, maybe even a little dangerous to your ego. You leaned down, brushing your lips against his. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
You increased the tempo, your hips moving with a newfound urgency of driving him to the edge. The rhythm between you grew harder, more intense, driven by pure need.
You knew you were already close, that the precipice of orgasm was just within reach. The feeling was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely. Chan’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the tension building within him too, the pressure mounting with each thrust.
You continued to move, faster now, your bodies locked together in a frenzy of desire. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of him inside you, the heat, the overwhelming pleasure. You were lost in the moment, consumed by the fire that burned between you.
A low moan escaped your lips as he pressed against you, his fingers tracing tight circles around your most sensitive spot.
“Fuck, Chan,” you screamed, your head falling back, eyes closing as the pressure began to feel exquisite.
He peppered kisses across your chest and neck, his touch alternating between quick pinches and slow, tantalizing rolls of his thumb against your clit. Without warning, his hips surged upwards, driving him deeper inside you. You cried out his name again, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“That's it, baby,” he commanded, “scream my name.”
One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you against him, while the other braced him against the mattress. He began to thrust into you, a relentless rhythm that belied the fact that you were supposed to be the one in control. But neither of you cared. His cock felt so incredibly good inside you, your pussy clenching around him in a tight embrace.
“Chan!”
The head of his cock found that sweet spot deep within you, and he immediately noticed your reaction, repeating the movement, again and again, until stars began to burst behind your closed eyelids.
The more Chan rhythmically rubbed your clit, the more you felt yourself tightening around him, your release imminent. His breath hitched as you reached your peak, your body shuddering with release. He cried out your name, his own release following close behind as spilled himself inside you. You collapsed against him, your bodies still trembling, your hearts pounding in unison.
The world dissolved around you, the only thing that existed was the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible, lost in a sea of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His arms wrapped around you comfortingly, as if he were afraid you’d run away, and you buried your face in his neck, trying to regulate your breathing and savoring the aftershocks, the incredible feeling of your skin melded together.
Still buried inside you, Chan could hardly believe any of this was real. The reality of you, of this, was almost too much to comprehend. He felt the warmth of you surrounding him, the gentle pulse of your muscles contracting around him, a constant reminder of the incredible intimacy you shared. He looked down at you, your face flushed and relaxed, your eyes closed in contentment.
He traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb, marveling at the softness of your skin. It was real. You were real. And you were here, with him, wrapped in the aftermath of a moment that had left both of you breathless.
Chan wanted to stay like this forever, locked in this perfect intimacy, lost in the wonder of you. And he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he would do anything to keep it.
He brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, before confessing, “I wanted this for so long.”
Your eyelids fluttered open, and you met his eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Mmm,” you hummed, snuggling closer to him. “Me too.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, and Chan blinked. “Really?”
Certainly, he hadn’t expected that. He thought he was the only one clinging to this moment, the only one so deeply affected by it, that he was certain he was thoroughly gone for anyone else. The fact that you felt the same way, that you’d wanted this just as much as he had, sent a fresh wave of warmth through him.
You nodded, your smile widening. “Really, really,” you confirmed, fingers tracing the line of his beautiful jaw. “I’ve been wanting this… for longer than I care to admit.”
He felt a blush creeping up his neck, a mixture of pleasure and disbelief swirling within him.
“Wow,” he breathed. “I...I didn’t think…”
“Didn’t think what?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.
He hesitated, suddenly feeling shy again. “Didn’t think you felt the same way. I thought… I thought you were just a little bit out of my limit, I guess.”
Looking away for a moment, Chan suddenly felt fascinated by a stray thread on the sheet. Saying that out loud sounded ridiculous, he knew. Seungkwan and Vernon would probably laugh at him if they could hear him now. He was a grown ass man; a successful dancer, yet he felt like a nervous teenager confessing his feelings for the first time to the girl he had a silly little crush on.
Except it was no longer silly for him anymore, and he was sure the feeling burning in his chest was much bigger than a crush. Love? He preferred to think about it after the effects of the afterglow had worn off.
His mind was filled with something else. For instance, the fact that, once, he’d been so sure you were out of his reach, so convinced that he was lucky just to be in your orbit. To know that you felt the same way, that you saw him as an equal, was both exhilarating and terrifying.
You gently cupped his face in your hands, turning his gaze back to yours. “Out of your limit?” you echoed. “Channie, I’m so in your limit that is actually embarrassing. I’ve always been in your limit.”
He raised an eyebrow, another flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “Always?”
“From the moment I saw you on that stage, two years ago,” you confessed. “I saw something in you, something special. Something… that made me want to get to know you better.”
Chan chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. “And you weren’t scared off by my… awkwardness around you?”
You laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the room. “Your awkwardness is part of your charm,” you teased. “Besides,” you added, leaning in to whisper against his lips, “I can be pretty awkward myself sometimes.”
He grinned, his earlier shyness melting away. “Is that so?”
You nodded, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Absolutely. But you’ll have to stick around to find out just how awkward I can be.”
He chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “I think,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “I’m willing to take that risk.” Then he paused, a shadow crossing his face briefly. “Can I ask you something, tough?”
“Mhmm.”
“Jongin. Why… why did you date him?”
You sighed a hint of weariness in your eyes. You should have seen it coming.
“Honestly?” you began, “Because at the time, I didn’t think you were interested too.” You met his gaze, your eyes filled with honesty. “Like I said earlier, he showed me the kind of attention I thought I needed. He was… persistent. And you,” you paused, choosing your words carefully, “you seemed… distant. You ran away whenever I tried to talk to you. At least now I know why.”
He winced slightly, recognizing the truth in your words. He’d been so afraid of rejection that he’d inadvertently pushed you away. “I… I was an idiot.”
You smiled sadly. “We both were,” you shrugged. “But,” you added, a brighter note entering your voice, “we’re not idiots anymore.” You leaned in, kissing him softly. “And now,” you gave him another peck, “I have exactly what I want.”
Chan cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “Me too.” He pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you.”
“For what?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.
“For giving me a second chance.”
You pulled back slightly, searching for his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, baby,” you said softly, with a teasing smile playing on your lips. “You just came inside me, I think you earned it.”
A slow grin spread across his face, a mixture of amusement and pure adoration. His eyebrows raised suggestively.
“Oh, is that how it works?” he teased, his eyes sparkling. “So, every time I…you know…”
You laughed, playfully shoving him in the chest.
“Don’t get any ideas, Jimmy Neutron,” you said, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed your words. “I’m a tough negotiator. You’ll have to work a lot harder than that to earn my gratitude.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m a very hard worker. And, I’m more than happy to put in the overtime for you.”
“We’ll see about that,” you whispered against his lips, though the smile playing on your face suggested you were more than willing to let him try. “You’re incredible, Lee Chan. Don’t ever forget that.”
He smiled, his heart overflowing with love. “I won’t,” he promised. “Not anymore.”
Not even seconds before he fully opened his eyes, Chan already had a smile on his face.
His arm instinctively reached for you, only to find you already curled against him, leg thrown over his, your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your hand sprawled across his bare chest like it had always belonged there. His shirt — the one you’d stolen off the floor around 3 a.m — was hanging loosely on your body, oversized, and entirely too intimate. Your soft breath tickled his chest, and he couldn’t help but smile wilder, fingers lazily tracing circles on your bare shoulder.
He loved that sight. Your sight. It felt like a livid dream.
Except he knew this wasn’t a dream because last night replayed in his mind on repeat. Every whispered word, every touch, every breathless plea. He had thought about it for so long, imagined it in so many ways and scenarios. Yet, nothing compared to the reality of holding you now.
Morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains, bathing the room—and you—in a soft golden glow. Chan swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you in that moment: peaceful, warm, and completely wrapped up in him. His heart swelled as he took in the way your lashes fluttered slightly, the way your fingers still clutched at his arm like you never wanted to let him go.
God, only if you knew.
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, tightening his arm around your for a bit. You only stirred slightly, nuzzling closer to him with a soft sigh. Chan chuckled under his breath, his hand running down your back soothingly. He wanted to stay like this forever, stay with you here forever. But he also wanted you to feel welcomed in his house, to make you never want to leave.
So carefully, Chan slid out from under you, heart pounding as he sat at the edge of the bed. You curled into the warm spot he left behind, sighing softly like his scent comforted you. He had to bury his face in his hand to keep from screaming into them.
With a quick look around his room — the clothes on the floor, shoes scattered as if they had been thrown off their feet, the hoodie you’d worn discarded on his desk chair — and exhaled a shaky, lovesick breath.
Yeah, he was a total lovesick puppy, and honestly? He didn’t mind admitting it one bit.
Taking just one more look at you sleeping in his bed, dressed in his clothes, looking very much like an angel sent from up above, Chan smiled. He took a mental picture of the sight, hoping it would be the first of many, then slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door without a sound.
The first thing he saw when he entered the kitchen was Vernon pouring cereal like a man who hadn’t slept in three days and was on the verge of starvation. Seungkwan was slumped over the counter, half-dead, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Both looked up when Chan walked in wearing nothing but sweats and a very evident bruised neck.
Seungkwan squinted. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” Chan asked, voice definitely not and octave higher. The look on their faces said it all; they already knew he had something to say. He was terrible at pretending to be nonchalant.
“Like you’re thrilled to be alive,” Vernon added, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth. “Did you see god or something?”
Very close.
Chan opened the fridge just to have something to hide behind. “I didn’t see God. I just… had a very good night.”
Seungkwan snorted loudly. “You? A good night? With who? Your pillow?”
“Actually…” Chan closed the fridge door, trying his absolute hardest to be casual. “Y/N and I—”
They both rolled their eyes as if to say, ‘here we go again with this subject,’ and Chan did his best to hide the smile threatening to appear on his lips, along with the urge to shout to the four corners of the apartment about what had happened last night. Of course, he held back, because you were sleeping like an angel in his sheets, and he would never risk disturbing you.
“Chan, seriously,” Seungkwan said, exhausted. “It’s time to let it go. You couldn’t even speak in front of her last night.”
Vernon nodded. “Pretty sure her boyfriend came to pick her up anyway.”
“Could you let me finish?” Chan huffed, arms crossing over his bare chest. “As I was saying, Y/N and I… we kinda talked. A lot. And then we… uhm… we—”
“Are you high right now?” Seungkwan cut in.
He blinked. “What?”
“Why are you referring to you and Y/N as ‘we’?”
“Because… last night we finally…”
Vernon stared at him, monotone as always. “You didn’t.”
“I DID!” Chan whisper-yelled, pointing vaguely toward his bedroom. “She was wearing my hoodie and then we talked and the she kissed me and—”
Seungkwan burst into laughter so loud it echoed. “Okay, sweetheart. I love you, but you dreamed that. No way Y/N was in your room last night.”
“I didn’t dream it!”
“You definitely did,” Vernon said, crunching cereal like this was a court trial. “You were drunk. Did you use that thing I bought Wednesday? Seungyoun said the trip was insane—”
Chan groaned. “Guys, I’m serious.”
Seungkawn patted his shoulder sympathetically, shooting his voice like he was speaking to a child. “It’s okay, buddy. One day you’ll kiss her for real. Just maybe not in your dreams next time. Okay?
He opened his mouth to argue, but footsteps echoed down the hallway, making Vernon and Seungkwan look over and watch intently. It didn’t take long for Chan to notice their eyes growing wide in their socket, almost popping out. Vernon dropped the cereal bowl, while Seungkwan looked like his soul had been yanked straight out of his body and shoved back in, choking violently on his iced coffee.
And there you were.
Smiling shyly. Sleepy-messy hair. Bare legs. Chan’s oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder like it was made for you. Blinking in the sunlight and looking way too soft and way too pretty for this hour, and for anyone else’s eyes; he should be the only one allowed to see you like this from now on.
You walked over to Chan like it was the most normal thing in the world, wrapped your arms around his neck, and stood on your toes to peck his lips.
“Morning,” you murmured against his lips.
He smiled into the kiss. Vernon and Seungkwan were nothing but white noise now. “Good morning, beautiful. Sleep okay?”
“Like a baby.” Then you finally noticed the two frozen men staring at you. “Oh—hi. Good morning. Do you guys have coffee?”
Seungkwan made a noise so high-pitched only dogs could hear it.
Vernon blinked slowly. “Bro.”
Chan shrugged at them with a smug little smile, arm slipping around your waist. From now on, it was the one place it belonged.
“Told you.”
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