I need and miss chan sm stay tuned tmr for my fanfic off him i miss him sm omg chan chan chan chan chan chan chan chan chan chan chan chan he needs to top me fr
Synopsis: Ice cream dates with Chan are a tradition, a way to celebrate your friendship every month and make your presence a constant in each other's lives. Little did you know that one of these dates would also be a vehicle for your repressed feelings for him to see the light once and for all.
Word count: 6,1k
Tags: nonidol!au, bsf!chan x f!reader, meet cute, strangers2bsf, bsf2l, basically pwp, a tiny bit of angst but it's mostly fluff, idiots in love, both chan and reader are overwhelmed by the love they have for each other, forced proximity, mentions of food/dessert (ice cream). Explicit content, MDNI. ice cream play, unprotected piv, dirty talk if you squint, a pinch of degradation, love making, praise kink, a little of aftercare.
Cece's note: Hiii! This is Cece. I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed the process of writing it. Though I think there's a lot of descriptive writing in the smut part (sorry guys, trying to find a writting style around here 😞).
Very special thanks to my dear Yuwen @kugiski for being my beta reader! You and your commentary are the best ;)
*Note's extension at the end of the fic.
🎧⠀Inspired by P1harmony's song Wednesday Girl.
🔗⠀Masterlist.
“What flavor did you get?” Chan asks, curiously looking at the ice cream in your hands as you approach the bed.
“Raspberry sorbet and dark chocolate; what about you?”
“It’s pistachio matcha ice cream. I added some chocolate syrup on it; wanna try?” He offers you the spoon with the creamy green substance.
You blink once, looking at it. “Pistachio matcha ice cream?” You huff a little laugh, “Really?”
“Yeah, what about it?” He pouts a little.
“What in the Gen Z, Pilates-era, TikTok marketing is that ice cream flavor?” You laugh again, a bit louder this time.
He rolls his eyes. “Wanna try it or not?”
You shake your head and giggle, “nah, I’m fine.”
He shrugs, shifting closer on the bed.
You like these nights. Once a month, you and him have a little ice cream meeting to update each other about your lives lately. Since you’re both usually so busy with work and other responsibilities, sometimes this is the only time you have to see each other.
These “ice cream parties” take place religiously on the 20th of every month, at your place or his. They are like a celebration of your friendship. Given you met on the 20th of September three years ago at an ice cream shop, it was only logical to keep this a tradition.
Chan remembers that day very well. He had seen you in that shop before. Actually, you were the reason he entered the shop in the first place. Kind of.
He already had the shop on his radar. Though looking at you enter it from across the street that day was the final push he needed to try their ice cream and have some eye candy with you while at it.
It may sound like a dumb reason for a guy so smart as him to enter an establishment only because a pretty girl caught his eye. But that’s just Chan.
Chan is a loverboy; it is public knowledge among those who know him. Even if he denies it, his actions say otherwise, and the way he went back to that shop every Wednesday after work since he first saw you, only to see if he could see you again, supported all the allegations.
It was almost fortuitous, then, when that September 20th he stumbled upon you, making you spill your coffee ice cream all over your white top.
“Shit! The fucking cherry on top,” you muttered.
That day you weren’t going to go to the ice cream shop, but you had had such a stressful day. You decided you deserved a sweet treat to make your heavy feelings more digestible and gather some energy for the rest of the week. Poor little Chan didn’t know he added a bit more sourness to those feelings.
Naturally, he panicked when your bodies practically crashed, and he started to feel his pulse in his ears when he noticed it was you the victim of his clumsiness.
“Oh shit! I’m so sorry, uh—” he shuffled his napkin, wanting to help you clean yourself. “I’m really sorry, let me, uh, umm—.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry.”
“No!” He exclaimed. You jumped a little. “I mean, it’s not fine; now your top is stained with, umm…” He stopped for a second, trying to guess the flavor.
“Coffee,” you said drily.
“Shit, that’s worse.”
He just stood there, contemplating your messed-up top. He came back to his senses when you were about to leave. You weren’t enjoying being the center of attention, and certainly didn’t enjoy getting your white top stained with ice cream.
“Wait! Let me make it up to you. I’ll buy you another ice cream, even another top, I promise!”
Yet, you ignored his offer and left anyway, leaving a guilty Chan behind.
However, next week, as soon as he saw you entering the place, he already had a redemption plan. As you were deciding what to order that day, he approached you at the counter with a cone of coffee ice cream.
“Hey…” He began, shyly, “I’m—”
“I know who you are. I remember,” you cut him off. There was no real bite in your tone.
“Right… Umm… I just wanted to make sure you were, uuh… Ok? And… Give you this for the ice cream you couldn’t have last week because of… Well, me.” He extended the cone to you. You accepted it.
The nervousness in his voice was so evident it made you smile dimly. You felt a warm wave of tenderness coating your shoulders when you saw his candid expression. He looked as inoffensive as a scolded puppy.
It almost made you shed a tear how clear his eyes looked under the easy sunset light entering through the large windows of the shop.
“I’m ok. It was just ice cream on my top, not the end of the world.”
“Mm, you seemed pretty mad at it…” He spoke with the same delicate voice.
“I’d had a bad day, that’s all. You didn’t have to buy me ice cream, though. I had forgotten it until you came up to me now.”
“Well, I didn’t… And I was looking forward to seeing you again, so that I could apologize. Properly, I mean, ‘cause that day… Agh, I made a fool of myself trying to apologize.” He hid his face in his hands. His confession made you laugh.
You would be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to meeting him again too.
That day you couldn’t help but feel like the unluckiest human being in the world; the only way you could meet a cute guy was in such an unfortunate scenario. It felt like a personal attack on your dignity after a day that could easily be the worst you had in a long time.
Chan felt relief after seeing you smile so widely. Whatever amount of guilt he held for ruining your pretty white blouse —because he did notice how insanely pretty it was— faded after he heard what later on would become his favorite sound in the world: your laugh.
“I told you it was fine,” you shrugged, smiling.
“Yeah, but I still felt guilty.”
With a sweet smile that Chan keeps as one of the most beautiful he has ever seen in anyone, you asked him: “What’s your name?”
He smiled back, “I’m Chan, and I’m really sorry.”
You laughed one more time. “Yeah, I noticed,” you teased, and he laughed back.
It’s curious how that disastrous first interaction would lead to what you had today.
Speaking frankly, you really didn’t understand how you managed to create a solid friendship with Chan, given that, just like him, you’ve been pining for him from afar even before day one.
Of course you had noticed him before the incident. You just weren’t aware it was mutual.
These kinds of routines are like poison for your heart—being a little dramatic. In reality, you don’t know how much longer you can keep up with the best friend act.
At first you thought the feeling was just furor. The fever of meeting someone new, and the promise of new experiences with that person. You assumed that, after you got to know him better, he would become part of the panorama, the attraction would fade away, and you’d end up with a new friend. Which wasn’t entirely a lie, but the fever never went down.
The situation isn’t so different from Chan’s point of view. Even if he started to go to that ice cream shop because he thought you were cute, he wasn’t planning on falling so hard.
The fondness has odd ways to manifest in him. Chan would say more than feelings, there are symptoms. It is very similar to an ailment.
There are days in which he wouldn’t have any appetite. The thought of you is just enough to keep him full. The tummy ache he has when he is around you isn’t artless butterflies. It feels like he’s being devoured from the inside. And the headache he gets when he doesn’t have the time to talk to you throughout the day haunts him like a ghost until he finally hears from you.
Lee Chan is, sort of literally, sickly in love with you.
Be that as it may, years have passed, and still the closest you’ve ever been to confess was once last year, when a hang out late in a rainy night slowly pushed you two to almost kiss under the feeble protection of Chan’s jacket.
“Chan, I’m serious, it is insanely far, and it’s already late.”
“That’s exactly why I wanna do it. The more you talk, the more you give me the reason.”
You had gone out for dinner. He didn’t let you pay, of course, and just like the perfect gentleman he is, Chan offered to take the bus with you and walk you home. The only problem was —for you, because Chan couldn’t care any less— that your place was too far away from his.
“Please,” he pleaded, your name slipping through his lips melodically, “the only way I’d be sure you’re safe is if I see you crossing the door with my own eyes.”
You didn’t feel comfortable making him go such a long way to your apartment, and back to his. Especially when the cold wind and the distant lightning were an omen of the raging rain that fell afterwards.
His first instinct was to take off his jacket to cover you. Yet you brought him under it to run together to the bus stop. Bus stop with no shelter.
Chan’s soaked jacket was of little help against what felt like a storm. Still, he kept pulling you closer. For that single instant, it felt like the rain was a minor inconvenience, and he was the real force of nature with dreadful effects in your heart. In your head. Your mind was filled with fuzzy, incoherent thoughts.
Every time he squeezed your waist, like if he was afraid you’d fly away with the wind, it was like a death sentence for you. His hand anchoring you to his side was the only warmth you felt in the middle of the gelid weather, and it was the only thing your body was —hyper—aware of. So much so that you didn’t notice your hands moving up and groping his shirt until he looked down at you.
“Hmm?” He purred, leaning closer, but you didn’t answer.
The night was bright, despite the overcast sky. It was that, or you were so close you could see him perfectly. His dark eyes were glowing as they looked right into yours. Even while at the mercy of the stormy weather, his top priority was you, and it showed.
You felt exposed. You had the sensation he could read your mind, that he knew how done you were with the best friend role, and how ready you were to let him claim you as his. Even if it was with a simple, quick kiss. That would’ve been enough to shut your aching heart for once.
Chan was silently begging for a kiss as well. He felt as soul-naked as you.
The bus arrived after what felt like an eternity, and you didn’t argue when he sat next to you. You were resigned to him taking you home.
You were wrapped in a comfortable silence all the way to your apartment, sharing his headphones, listening to your shared playlist. He spotted you shivering, took your hands in his to try to warm them up, oblivious of the fact that the reason for your shaking hands wasn’t the cold air. It was him.
The moment passed, and you didn’t really talk about it. Chan regretted being a coward that night. Because now, three years after he first landed his eyes on you, he is still stuck in the friend role. If he hadn’t been such a fraidy-cat, these ice cream meet-ups would be a lot more… Romantic now.
“I haven’t seen you eating coffee ice cream in a while.” he takes a bite of his own dessert. “It was your favorite.”
“Well, it is, but they changed the recipe, and now it’s not the same,” you pout, and Chan has to do a monumental effort to not smile at it, “so my new go-to is this: Raspberry sorbet and dark chocolate.”
“That’s a very specific combination.”
“It has personality, unlike your late-stage-capitalism-flavored ice cream, or whatever.” You tease.
He rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t criticize it if you knew how good it tastes”
You huff a laugh, “I doubt it, really, but…”
You are cut mid-sentence. You get distracted by the sight of Chan licking a drop of ice cream sliding on the side of his cup, and looking up at you.
Something lights inside you. A familiar heat in your chest and between your legs is what you feel. A pulse in your core that you’ve forced yourself to ignore before.
You’d say the sexual tension was always there. You aren’t blind, and neither is he.
You had caught him checking you out more than once when you hang out, but you convinced yourself it was just you imagining stuff. Because it was you who felt attracted to him, not vice versa. Or so you thought.
His piercing look feels like a provocation. This time you’re not ignoring the heat. Instead, you let it fill you up with the courage to finally do something for it.
“You know what? I may try,” you say with conviction.
He doesn’t doubt. He offers you the spoon with the green creamy dessert. You take it from his hand, getting closer. Your thighs are touching. You lean and press the spoon on his lips, smearing them with ice cream.
The growing confidence, combined with the dizziness of the proximity, doesn’t let you notice the confusion in his expression, which soon shifts to astonishment when you press your lips against his.
Chan feels the tip of your tongue rinsing the ice cream off his lower lip. A sudden warm wave paints his face red. He is simply too stunned to even move, and you take advantage of it.
“Mm, I don’t know, it kinda tastes like perfume? I don’t know how to describe it, let me try again,” and so you do the same. You smear his lips once more. This time, when you close the space between you, you stop for a fraction of a second to see if he stops you, but he doesn’t. So, you kiss him again, nibbling his lower lip.
“It tastes like…” You peck him, “earthy? And strong…” and peck him again, “but somehow soft around the edges”, and one last time in the corner of his lips, “I don’t know if it’s for me; I don’t like ambiguous flavors.”
“Maybe…” Chan begins, whispering, “maybe you should try again.”
You pout, shaking your head, “I tried enough.”
“I don’t think so. Two times is far from enough. It’s less than the minimum.”
“And the minimum is…?”
“Three, minimum three.”
“Why three?” You giggle, frowning.
“It’s a good number,” he shrugs.
You burst out laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
Chan is boiling from the inside just as much as you. His lower abs feel tense, a product of the burning desire those little kisses woke up in him.
He is so easy. He thinks. A few childlike pecks are enough to make him flustered. To make his dick twitch, as pitiful as it sounds, and drive him to a state of hunger that can only be satiated if you are the main course on his table. Or his bed.
Impatient, he puts down his cup on the nightstand. He grabs you by the hips and sets you on his lap. He is not being a coward tonight.
“I am. Are you really not giving me another one?” His voice is firm, but not demanding. Low and velvety, yet fluid. Like an intoxicating beverage.
You’re startled. You can’t answer verbally. The touch of his heavy hands dangerously low on your hips, far from being grounding, is distracting. You can’t formulate a coherent thought. The only thing you do is offer him a bite of your ice cream with a vague gesture.
He huffs, mildly irritated by the growing tension in his pants. He places your cup beside his.
“You can’t do that and just distract me with ice cream.”
His tight grip on your hips is a clear sign of his annoyance, you think. Before you can stop it, a cascade of mumbled apologies leaves your mouth. You’re sure you look and sound beyond pathetic, sat on his lap, face down, nervously murmuring nonsense, like a scolded child struggling to justify their behavior.
You crossed an implicit boundary somehow violently. Your head races with a million other scenarios in which you could have shortened the emotional distance between the two of you differently. You contemplate easier ways, softer ways. Ways that wouldn’t have left him looking at you like you erased a line he wasn’t willing to pass.
“He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want you,” states a loud voice in the front of your mind. “But if he doesn’t, why is he asking for another kiss? Why did he not stop you when he had the chance?” Replies another voice in the back, distant.
You are a mess of contradictory thoughts and tongue-tied apologies. The urge to run away from the situation you created yourself invades you, and as you attempt to do so, he sets you back on his lap with ease.
Without any other word, he cups your face and kisses you again. It takes you aback for a second. To say he’s kissing you senseless is an understatement; it is like delicacy is nothing but a suggestion worth ignoring for the sake of his satisfaction.
His kiss is like sandpaper to your rough, unorganized thoughts. The noise in your head tones down the more he presses you, flushed to him. You whimper in relief against his lips when his hand finds the way to your hair and pulls it slightly.
Oh, fuck…
You pull away. Suddenly, your cheeks paint with embarrassment again. Chan sees it in your eyes how your mind starts to form incoherent ideas, and so he wastes no time entertaining them.
He sets you right on his crotch, cupping your face, and you can feel the growing erection caged in his jeans. “Don’t waste your time guessing. This is what you do to me.”
A tender little kiss lands on your cheek, the beginning of a path of faint kisses trailing down your jaw, then your neck and collarbones.
“Tell me to stop.” More than a reminder that he would go as far as you let him, it is a command. It is Chan trying to hold on to the last bit of sanity left in his body. Except, far from listening, you roll your hips forward, getting another moan from him. His face sinks into your neck again.
Chan is usually a very well-behaved boy. He rarely raises his voice; the loudest he can be is when laughing. He has gentle hands, and an even gentler way to carry himself. However, there are no traces of said gentleness now. He attacks your neck like a predator securing its prey in place.
His teeth rasp along your neck, hips buckling up every now and then. He bites the most sensitive spot with such aggressiveness; you think he might want to literally eat you. But you don’t complain. You’re more than glad to let him do with you as he pleases.
You slowly start to become a mess of little moans and whines. The stronger he bites, the louder you get. He licks the abused skin to calm the sting, pressing his tongue flat over the blooming bruise.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
You couldn’t ever imagine Chan being this bold, and it lights a flame in your core to imagine how much bolder he can get if he goes further. You shudder in anticipation.
The wet sensation in your cunt distracts you. You know your panties are already ruined. Even with the barrier of clothes, you can tell how big he is. Your mouth waters at the single thought of freeing his cock out of his pants and swallowing him whole.
One hand sneaks under your tank top, deliberately going upwards on your back. He’s searching for your bra clasp. When he finds it, he unclasps it with a few simple motions.
“Off,” He tugs at your top. Your mind has been absent for a good few minutes now, so you do as he says without questioning.
He takes a handful of seconds to observe you once your upper half is completely exposed to him. His eyes savor you first; later his hands travel to squeeze your breasts as if they were stress relief balls.
It is amusing, actually, how gone he looks having a pair of boobs on his face. It’s not like he starts drooling at the sight of any pair of tits, he’s not a virgin. But a scenario like this has been running around his head in circles for a while now, so he’s not going to get distracted by unimportant things. He’s focused on you.
He massages, pinches, presses, and eventually puts one in his mouth. He drags long, purposeful licks on your nipple before nibbling at it. It makes you nearly scream and initiate an eager sway of your hips, his clothed dick. Back and forth, you chase that pleasant thrill starting to form on your lower stomach.
“Chan…” Leaves your lips breathily.
Although he doesn’t listen, too fixed in exploring his new toy, he pinches your neglected nipple while he sucks the one in his mouth. Your little sounds and squirms seem to encourage him more. He sucks harder, ruder.
Your hands find the way to the hair on the nape of his neck. The constant friction between the two of you is bringing you closer to the edge. Your shoulders tense, your hips falter the higher you feel.
Chan stops. He has other plans, though.
“Don’t.” He says sharply. He holds your hips in place, preventing them from moving. “Don’t you dare cum. " I'm gonna make that pussy cum on my cock. D’you understand?”
You can’t help but whine in frustration as you feel your orgasm drawing away. “Since when do you talk like that?” You ask, nearly out of breath.
“Since I have a slut on top of me grinding on my dick.” Chan slaps your ass in response, a cheeky grin adorning his stupid handsome face.
“Huh.” You laugh.
God, you love this side of him.
Two can play a game, but there have to be equal conditions. You take his shirt off, throw it away like it’s something disgusting to touch.
You salivate thick spit at the sight of his sharp build. He’s defined, chest solid. His abs are decorated with a delicious-looking happy trail. The vista inspires your broad imagination.
You picture a vast number of possibilities related to the scene hiding in his pants. You wonder about the length and girth. Would it be anything similar to what you’ve fantasized before? It certainly feels quite imposing already, even clothed. How would it feel in your hand? How would it feel in your mouth? Would it be hairy? If it is, is it just slightly or heavily?
Stop wandering, just recall his words.
“Don’t waste your time guessing…” And you won’t.
You’re unable to resist the itch on the tip of your fingers. Your index slowly draws a thin path from his pecs down to the happy trail. He shivers; you chuckle.
You catch the forgotten ice creams sitting on the nightstand from the corner of your eye. They are more than melted, but a mischievous thought takes form in the back of your head.
“You think you’re the only one with a dirty mouth?” Smiling playfully, you unbuckle his belt, unbutton his jeans. He shifts back on his elbows, hips up so it’s easier for you to take his pants down. Your shorts disappear from the equation too. Your panties and his boxers are the only thing preventing the skin-to-skin contact.
Excitement is evident in his expression. Oh, sweet Chan. He may feel like a naughty boy talking filthy words, but whatever he thinks you’re about to do, it’s not even remotely close to what the engine of your mind is working on right now.
You stretch over him to grab your ice cream cup. “We can’t let it go to waste, can we? It’d be such a shame.” Without warning, you let the melted ice cream drip on his abs, covering them with chocolate and raspberry sorbet. He jolts at the cool sensation; his skin tenses.
“What the—"
“Oops! Clumsy me.” You giggle, feigning innocence. “Agh, these jelly hands of mine. Let me clean it.”
You bend and lick the ice cream all the way from his lower belly up his abs, following the guideline of his happy trail.
“Shhhit.” Chan grits.
You stick your tongue out, showing him all the dessert gathered on your tongue before swallowing it. For the nth time in the night since you first kissed him, his dick jerks beneath you.
“Better now.” You hum, contemplating. “You didn’t try my flavor, did you?”
He barely manages to answer monosyllabically, disoriented, “Huh?”
“My ice cream flavor, did you try it?”
He shakes his head, lips parted.
“Mm… That doesn’t sound fair,” you pout. “Well, sharing is caring, isn’t it?”
Then again, you repeat the operation. Ice cream on your tongue, you go up until you’re just mere inches away from his face. One or two taps on his chin beckon him to open up. You spit it all on his tongue; he swallows it with pleasure. A drop of the content runs down his chin; you take it on the tip of your fingers and shove it back in his mouth.
How delightful it is having him looking up at you like you hung the stars while his tongue plays with your fingers. Those dark shiny bubbles he has for eyes meet yours, and your stomach does a weird turn as he sucks them clean. Your core pulses after an obscene pop! echoes in the room when you take them out.
The damp sensation of his spit wrapped around your fingers is provocative. You find it impossible to fight back the creeping desire bubbling in your pussy. You’re in no position to wait any longer; thus, you strip off the last piece of clothing left.
Your panties fly across the room, and Chan can’t believe his eyes the moment you start rubbing off your clit. Legs wide open. Fully displayed for him.
“Chan…” You moan.
“Holy… fuck…” He thinks out loud.
“I need you, please.” You’re all whiny already. The heat in your cunt is overwhelming. It’s insufferable. You need him to do something now.
No other word is required. All of a sudden, Chan’s boxers are nowhere to be found. You bask at the spectacle in front of you.
His dick is just like you imagined it would be; the happy trail leads to his mons pubis, adorned with soft curls of thin, trimmed hair. Rosy mushroom-like head spilling precum like crazy. It’s full-sized. Nonetheless, the throbbing veins framing its shape provide it a sort of presence that has you cussing under your breath, as your fingers press rough circles on your puffy clit.
He's mesmerised by you. “You’re a whole view, you know that?” He carefully sets you on your back, kisses your lips kindly, then starts to go down on you. “So… Fucking beautiful”
“Please, Chan. That can wait,” You whimper.
“Let me taste you first, baby. Please.” He insists.
“Lee Chan,” you pull his hair to make him look at you, “I need your cock.” The word falls from your lips lewdly. “Fuck the hell out of me. Right. Now.”
You see, it's not like you don’t want him to eat you out. You have the theory that he gets pussy drunk very easily. Actually, after he got practically glued to your neck and tits earlier, you’re almost convinced he has an oral fixation on some level. But you’ll have time to prove all your speculations later.
Chan laughs at your desperation. “Eager much?” He teases. You roll your eyes. Grabbing your hips, he motions you to turn around.
You settle on your knees, chest pressed to the mattress, ass up high. Chan positions himself behind you. He doesn’t need to become someone in life, he thinks, your slick cunt at his disposal is all he needs to die a fulfilled man. His fingers knead at the tender flesh of your cheek, while his free hand bumps his hard cock carefully.
He teases the glans up and down your swollen folds, mixing his precum and your arousal.
“You’re so wet. Look at that.” He taps the tip on your entrance a couple times. “You’re all ready for me, aren’t you baby?”
“Yes.” You sigh, “Chan, please.”
“Don’t worry, I got you.”
And without further ado, he finally stretches you out as you swallow him inch by inch. The texture of his veins stimulates your throbbing walls even more.
“Mmph.” He groans, slides out, then back in, and repeats. He sets a cautious but steady pace at first. Testing the waters, probing what makes you moan the loudest.
Sooner rather than later, the force and rhythm increase, up to the point where he has to grab you by the hair to keep you in place while he bullies his hard cock into your pussy.
“Fuck, Chan. Ngh—"
Your moans follow along with the rhythm of his relentless thrusts. The wet sounds of your squelching cunt are offensive. What is more, his heavy balls pound impetuously against your ass, generating a stimulating clapping sound that sends you dangerously close to the edge.
Your thighs tremble. You’re so close. All the tightness folded in your belly is just about to snap when you abruptly feel empty again.
“Fucking hell, Chan!. I’m gonna kill you!” You cry, looking at him over your shoulder.
He hums, out of breath. “No, you will not.” As if you weighed nothing, he turns you on your back. “I just wanna see this pretty face when you cum, ‘kay?”
He kisses your forehead before he goes back to his ministrations. Loving words fill the little space between the two of you.
“So beautiful,” he whispers on your lips, “you’re an angel. You’re my angel.”
Each word of adoration coming out of his mouth is a gentle push that shoves you closer to you high. Every time your name leaves his lips, your lower belly tenses, your nails dig deeper in his back.
Chan is very sure he is going to be sore in the morning, and as he doesn’t give a fuck, he’s determined to make you reach heaven. The sting of the scratches on his skin emboldens his thrusts. He’s eager, sloppier. He presses your hips further into the mattress as your gazes meet.
A smug smile draws on his face as he sneaks a hand between your legs to rub his thumb on your clit. You nearly scream. The pleasure envelopes you both in a dense blankness that clouds your senses.
You don’t feel anything. You feel him, and only him.
The initial frenzy slowly washes away to make room for the affection burning under your skin, demanding to flourish to the surface.
His eyes trail all over your face, there is a crystalline spark in them despite the dim lighting. They are as clear as the first time you talked to him in the ice cream shop. So transparent you swear you can see your reflection in them for a tiny second.
He now moves more deliberately, controlled. The desperation that once blurred his mind disappeared. He knows you’re right there. You’re breathing heavier, letting out broken moans due to the lack of air. He’s dying to see you and feel you cum all over him.
“Cum for me, princess. C’mon. Let me see you, all glorious.”
There’s a pressure on your ribs constraining your breath. A tension that finally breaks when he calls your name one last time. The orgasm that rips through you is overwhelming, loud, and devastating. It triggers his as well. A couple more thrusts and Chan spills his warm seed inside your silky walls.
His fucked expression and a cracked “F-fuck, baby,” accompanied by ragged whimpers, are the last thing you see and hear before he falls over you like a soulless body.
You’re both spent as hell. He is exhausted to the bone, but never felt as full in his life.
“Chan, you’re crushing me…” You chuckle after a few seconds of silence and heavy breaths.
“Oh, sorry.” He mirrors your little laugh. “Are you ok?”
“More than ok. I’ve never felt better.”
He smiles brightly, caresses your back gently, and showers your face with honey-like kisses, carefully pulling out. You whine at the loss. Your mixed juices run down your thighs. The sticky feeling between your legs is not uncomfortable now, but you’ll need a very good and long shower soon. Right now, however, you’re feeling too light and frisky to leave the bed.
“So…” You bite your lip. “You gotta admit I have better taste in ice cream than you,” you tease.
He laughs, amused by your ability to tantalize him even when he literally just fucked the sweet heaven out of you. “Yeah, sure.” He replies halfheartedly, “I don’t know if it’s for me, though. I might have to try again.” Mocking your voice tone, he tickles your ribs.
“Don’t!” You jolt and giggle. “You’re an idiot.”
He echoes your little laughs, hugs your waist. “For you, yes.”
His little pecks take over your face once, your smile growing wider after every single one of them, his palm firm on your ass. “Such a smiley princess. So pretty.” He whispers over your lips.
“Oh, so I’m a princess now. I thought I was a slut who was gonna cum on your cock.” You mock him back.
He burst out laughing. “Yah, I don’t know where that came from, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, I… kinda liked it.” You admit, voice whispery.
“Mm... Is that so, huh…?” The grin on his lips warns you of the teasing comment forming in his mind. You kiss him before he can even take a breath and say it.
“Shut the fuck up.” You mumble against his smiley lips.
Lee Chan is not a self-centered guy. He thinks being full of oneself is a waste of time. He strongly believes that throwing away time and energy feeding his ego is of no use when he can put that effort into taking care of his loved ones.
In every possible scenario, Chan engages in fulfilling everyone else’s needs before his own. It causes a specific kind of peace that he only experiences when his actions bring comfort to the people around him: fixing any broken artifact at his mom’s house, sharing food with coworkers at lunch, making a friend company in a difficult moment, or doing little favors. All those are simple things that make him feel like his friends and family get the best of his presence in their lives.
Therefore, it is needless to say that he takes whatever opportunity presents itself to take care of you. And this time is no exception.
You’re waiting for him, wrapped in his bedsheets while he runs you a bath. Mumbles and rustles come out of the bathroom before his still naked figure appears, stepping into the room again.
“The bath’s almost ready,” he sits at your feet on the bed, “how do you feel?”
You chuckle, “You have asked me that like a million times already,” he pouts, taking your hand to press you flush against him, “I’m ok, I feel good, I promise.”
“Mm…” He kisses your shoulder as he draws little circles and hearts on the bare skin of your back, “I just wanna make sure you’re not sore, or I didn’t go too carried away.”
“I could never feel bad when I’m with you.” You give him one last kiss before entering the bathroom.
And of course, he kept asking if you were alright all night. But there really was no room for discomfort among his delicate kisses, attentive hands, and loving words.
Chan remembered that Wednesday very well. He felt like it was fated that he ran into you, and he had never felt more grateful for being a clumsy loverboy.
Please tell me what do you think! Feedback is also highly appreciated. It took me a while to finish this fic. I started writing it on June 18th and I could finally finish it on August 6th. A few things got in the way, stress, school, migranes and whatnot, but I finished it and I'm very happy with the final result, even if it's not all perfect.
I write fics to practice my writing skills in English and it was my first time writing a story this long in a foreign language. I think that was one of the million things that kept from finishing it earlier. I was #scared, but here we are.
I've been thinking of starting a new series and this has been on my mind for a few weeks! I hope y'all enjoy!
Work has been horrible lately. Each day you dreaded going there more and more. The guys noticed immediately how you went from being excited to work, waking up on the first alarm, to how you started waking up later and later to the point you’re almost late. It started to worry them, especially Chan. Ever since you met SEVENTEEN, you instantly became close to Chan due to how close in age you both were. When he would ask about what’s been going on, you immediately brushed it off. You knew his comeback was coming, and he was looking forward to CARATS getting to listen to a whole solo album of Pi Cheolin. You didn’t want your problems to be a burden to Chan.
“(Y/n) I know something is bothering you,” Chan would say every time you went over to their dorms. And today was no different.
“Chan, I’m okay.” You told him, just like you do every time. “Nothing is bothering me.”
“Lying gets you nowhere,” Seungkwan pipes up, looking over at you from the couch.
“Guys, it’s nothing,” you assure them, though the look Chan gives you makes you know that he can see past the bullshit. “Dino, you have your comeback soon. You need to focus on that.”
He runs a hand through his hair, “I can’t when my best friend is going through something and won’t tell me.”
“He makes a valid point,” Jeonghan cuts in from the kitchen. “We all can tell something is up.”
You sigh, “works just been rough. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Says the girl who was almost late today,” Mingyu interjects, popping another chip in his mouth.
“Almost late doesn’t mean I was late,” you tell Mingyu in an unamused tone.
Chan looks at you with soft eyes, “you know you can tell me, right?”
You give him a small smile, “I know.”
And just like that, the topic was dropped. At least until Chan used his emergency key to your apartment because he couldn’t reach you all day.
It was not even a week later, Chan was texting you all day with no reply. It wasn’t like you not to return his messages or even his calls. So he went to your place and knocked. He knocked a few times before his slight worry became too much.
“(Y/n)!” He calls out, noticing your bag by your couch and your phone on the counter. “(Y/n/n)!” He calls again, now going through your apartment fully until he stops in the hall to see your bedroom door cracked just a bit. You’re in bed, Rapunzel playing on tv. You’re holding a bunny stuffed animal, fast asleep. He walks in the room completely, placing his hat and glasses on your dresser. He was still dressed up as Pi Cheolin, going straight to your place after having to shoot a few things. Chan then sits at the end of the bed, looking at you with gentle eyes. He never seen you look so soft, so innocent and small. It seems like you’re so at peace compared to the last few times he seen you. He moves slightly, trying to get more comfortable but he accidentally bumps you a bit, in which you slowly wake up.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” Chan whispers, noticing your eyes fluttering open. The sound of his voice makes you freeze, not wanting him to see you in this state. “I used the emergency key because I haven’t heard from you,” he continues, keeping his voice low, not really noticing how you’re frozen. “I came straight here, I was a bit worried.”
That’s when you look and see he is still in a suit, and his sun glasses and hat sit on your dresser. “S-Sorry, I left my phone in the other room.” You reply. Your voice is the softest Chan has ever heard it. The slight stutter, the gentleness of your voice, it seems almost childlike.
“I noticed,” he responded, his eyes now drifting to the rest of the room. His eyes land on a sippy cup with a small amount of milk in it with a paci right next to it. “Umm, who is that for?” He ask curiously, looking back at you.
You looked to the direction he was previously looking at and panicked. “I, uhhh” you stutter out, not really knowing what to say. Your eyes water and you quickly get out of bed and grabbing your things before leaving the room.
“(Y/n),” Chan says, his voice now concerned as he follows you to your kitchen as you start putting things away. “Hey, hey.” He starts softly, gently grabbing your shoulders and searching your eyes.
You don’t say anything, your bottom lip trembling.
“Aish, none of that.” Chan mumbles, wiping your tears immediately before they fall completely down your face. “What’s going on?”
You just shake your head, turning away from him as you continue to put everything away, hiding it from his view.
“Why are you putting everything away?” Chan asks, his voice barely a whisper.
You sniffle, “I don’t want you to see.”
“Why?” He asks, now standing infront of you.
You avoid his eyes, “it’s weird…”
“Nothing you do is weird,” Chan assures but you don’t believe him. “Explain it to me.”
You shake your head, looking at the sippy cup that is still on the counter.
“Is it work?” Chan asks, bending down slightly to look at you better.
Your eyes land on his, and you nod.
“Is it becoming too much?”
You hesitate, but nod your head.
“Aish, I see the issue.” He replies, giving you a small smile. “My girl needs a break.”
He then grabs your sippy cup and pours out the old milk before cleaning it and setting it back down.
“What are you doing?” You ask him, your eyes wide with innocence.
“I’m about to pour you some juice,” he responds like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you feel tiny?”
The questions catches you off guard, causing you not find any words to respond.
He notices, of course he does. “It’s okay if you do, it’s honestly preferred right now.” He gives you a boyish smile, something to set your mind at ease.
“Preferred?” You asks, your eyebrows raised in childlike shock.
“Of course it is,” he replies, going get some juice from your fridge then goes pour it. “If it helps you feel safe, then I always prefer you to feel safe.”
Your cheeks redden at his words. And they get more red when he screws the sippy cup lid back on and hands it to you.
“When you feel up to it, you we can talk about the things you need.” Chan brush’s a strand of hair out your face. “But until then, I’ll still be your Channie.”
“Channie…” you say in the sweetest voice he has ever heard. Your eyes then travel to his outfit. “Channie is uncomfortable.”
He laughs at your pronunciation, but shakes his head. “I’m not uncomfortable.” He does a small stretch, “the suit is actually very comfy.” He then winks, “but regardless, I look stylish.”
You giggle, and nod your head. “Pi Cheolin!”
Your words are slightly slurred, but he gives you such a fond smile in return. “사랑의 눈” he says, making you giggle.
“사랑의 눈” you try to say, and he laughs, ruffling your hair.
“My cutest fan,” Chan says, crouching down in front of you. “Now, let’s get you even more comfy for the night!”
He then takes your hair gently, and you both head to your room. Chan has a lot to learn, but he will learn everything if it means making you happy.
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PAIRING: lee chan x tarot reader!reader
GENRE: romance, hurt/comfort
WC: 4,831
WARNINGS: reader has some psychic abilities, mention of a bad breakup, mention of minor character death, themes of depression and loneliness, alcohol consumption
A/N: this was requested by @haologram and @pikachudino for my Cosmos event!! ♡ disclaimer that i don't know literally anything about tarot, so i apologize if i got anything wrong but i did my best :) also, no beta we die like men xoxo
SYNOPSIS: An old schoolmate suddenly turns up in your psychic shop asking for a tarot reading. You never knew him all that well, and he looks so different now that you didn't even recognize him at first — but you quickly begin to become re-acquainted with each other.
Today was such a slow, boring day at the shop that you nearly closed early and went home.
It's not like business is particularly booming these days anyway, but you only had a single customer today, and the strange elderly woman who lives in the apartment above your shop and comes down every Wednesday at 10am on the dot to buy a pack of incense hardly counts. But you were close to finishing your book, so you figured even if nobody else came in you could at least sit behind the counter reading for the remainder of the day.
You have 15 pages left when the light jingling of the bells hanging above the doorframe snap you back to reality. You look up from your paperback to see a dark-haired man entering your shop; he's around your age, and he looks familiar, but you can't place who he might be — strange, considering that you know pretty much everyone in town. The man peers around, seemingly looking for somebody, but his eyes linger on all the various oddities displayed on the hodge-podge of shelves and vintage furniture around the small store.
"Hi there!" you say cheerfully, rising to your feet. The man jumps slightly at the sound of your voice.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there," he apologizes, looking startled and a bit embarrassed.
"No worries," you smile at him politely. "I was kind of hidden back here."
Now that you're making eye contact with him, you're certain you must know him from somewhere.
"What brings you in today?" you inquire.
The man raises his brow at you. "I thought you were a psychic. Shouldn't you already know the answer to that question?"
You smile. "Well, that's not exactly how it works," you explain. "But if I had to guess…"
You study him for a moment. You could tell he had nervous energy from the moment he walked through the door, but his aura is heavy and murky, as if he is utterly plagued with despair. He feels lost, and he is desperately searching for anything that might give him some answers or peace of mind. You also get the sense that he has been crying a lot lately.
"Wow, you have been going through it," you say to him, staring back at him sympathetically. You can tell he's skeptical about psychics, witchcraft, anything that might be considered woo-woo nonsense — but the deep look of concern on your face makes him feel like you genuinely just peered right into his soul. He stares back at you anxiously.
"You're here in search of guidance to help you overcome your recent heartbreak, yes?"
He nods timidly. You give him a soft smile.
"I recommend a tarot reading," you tell him. "I find the cards to be the most useful medium when one is in search of answers."
"Yeah, that sounds good," he replies. He's still unsure of all this, but at this point he's willing to try anything.
"Perfect," you say as you step out from behind the counter, gesturing toward the back wall, where a deep purple velvet curtain hangs closed over a small opening. "Step through the curtain and make yourself comfortable, I will be right in."
You quickly disappear into the back of the shop. He shuffles over to the wall, hesitantly parting the curtain. Behind it he finds a tiny room, lit only by one low-wattage light bulb overhead and big enough only to fit two armchairs and a small table with a large, ornate piece of fabric draped over it. He takes a seat in the chair nearest the entrance.
A few moments later you emerge through the curtain, carrying a candle, matchbook, and a deck of cards. You take a seat and light the candle.
"This is your first tarot reading," you say as you open the small gilded box of cards and begin to shuffle them.
"Uh, yeah," he answers. "First time."
You make eye contact with him. He still seems nervous, but you also notice recognition in his gaze — he knows you. You still can't place why he looks familiar, but you're positive you must know him from somewhere. But, you don't want to distract him, so you decide you'll inquire after the reading.
"Great! I'll explain how it works: First, you can either start out with a question, or I can do a general reading. Once the cards are shuffled I will draw three cards — these represent the past, present, and future, and their meanings can vary based on the card itself and as well as its orientation. I will give you my insight into what I believe each card means for you, but how you fully interpret the reading is up to you. Make sense?"
"I guess so," he shrugs.
"Perfect, let's begin then. Did you have a specific question you want to explore? The only requirement is that it's not a yes-or-no question."
"Um… not really."
"No problem — I will do a general reading for you."
You shuffle the deck a couple more times, then set it face down right in front of you. You draw the top card and place it face-up on the table before your customer, revealing an ornately-illustrated tower being struck by a lightning bolt.
"This card deals with the past," you explain. "The Upright Tower represents a sudden or tumultuous change, often resulting in great loss or broken pride."
The man lets out a huff of laughter. "Yeah, I'll say."
"This card can seem quite ominous," you continue. "But it doesn't necessarily have to be negative. Change is a part of life — it can be scary, but in order to overcome it we have to embrace it. Sometimes our old ways no longer work for us, and we have to shift our beliefs and habits to help us grow and carry on."
He grimaces slightly. "You're probably right," he admits. "But I still hate it."
You smile. "It certainly isn't always fun. But evolving from our old ways will allow us to live as our genuine selves, and will prepare you for things to come."
"So you're saying I need to get over it," he says bluntly.
"I'm not saying you need to do anything one way or the other," you remind him. "The cards are meant to make you think, and it's up to you to decide what you want to do with their insight."
He nods, but you can tell he is still reluctant.
"Next, we'll take a look at the present."
You draw the next card from the top of the deck, placing it on the table beside the first card.
"The Hermit, Reversed."
His cheeks turn noticeably pink, a look of embarrassment coloring his face, but he doesn't say anything.
"When reversed, The Hermit can indicate that you want to be alone. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but too much seclusion can have negative effects on your wellbeing as well as on others around you. Isolation can cause you to lose perspective on the world, and may trap you in a downward spiral of loneliness and depression."
"Honestly, I think I'm already there," he says glumly.
"And that's okay," you reassure him. "It's a much more common experience than you think. The recommendation here is self-reflection: search within yourself, find the root of your troubles — it may not be as obvious as you'd expect. Don't dismiss human connection, either. It can be hard, but it's essential in the healing process."
He stares at the card, frowning.
"Honestly, I didn't know I was signing myself up to get roasted here," he tells you. You bite your lip, stifling the giggle that wants to escape you.
"There is no judgment here," you assure him gently. "I'm human too. Reading cards for others often helps me learn something about myself as well. You're not alone in your struggles — despite how it may feel in the moment."
He still doesn't look convinced, but he nods somewhat acceptingly.
"So the last card is going to be about my future right?" he asks.
"It's not going to explicitly tell you what's going to happen," you remind him. "But it can be useful when it comes to thinking about decisions you will have to make."
"Okay," he shrugs, letting out a small laugh. "Can't be any worse than the first two…"
You draw the third card, setting it face-up before him.
"Death, Reversed," you read.
"Oh my god I'm going to die," he groans, dropping his forehead into his hand.
"I know how it may sound," you smile. "But it has nothing to do with actual death. It's true that Death holds great power, but it's more so about change and the metaphorical 'death' that comes with letting go of the past. The card is Reversed, which still refers change, transitions, endings — whatever you want to call it; but the reversal indicates that you're afraid of letting go. It may mean that you've been resisting the change out of fear of the unknown, which can actually limit your future — instead of healing, it may lead to negative patterns, causing you to feel stuck."
He thinks, absorbing your words. "You're not wrong," he eventually says with a sigh. "But what am I supposed to do about it? How am I supposed to cope?"
"I can't answer that for you," you reply. "That's a solution you need to come to on your own. But I can tell you that even though it's scary to face the unknown, you have to trust yourself. Life moves on whether we want it to or not, and resisting it will only cause you more pain in the long run. Take things one step at a time — it may be hard to see now, but believing in yourself a little can go a long way."
The poor guy looks like he wants to burst into tears. He stares at the cards for a moment, deep in thought; but he shakes it off, reluctantly making eye contact with you again.
"Is that… the end?" he asks awkwardly.
"That concludes the reading, yes," you nod. "But hopefully you have found something useful to take away here. Remember that your fate is not tied to the cards, but they can be helpful in offering insight and direction if you allow them to."
You snuff the candle and place the cards back into their box, then head back into the main area of the shop, the man trailing behind you slowly. You return to your spot behind the counter; he slowly walks over to you, still eyeing all the strange items around the store. The fact that he looks so familiar is still bothering you. You've been debating bringing it up, but you're not quite sure how to ask — after all, that might be an awkward conversation if he is someone you should know. But, your curiosity is getting the best of you.
"You know, you're the first person who's walked through my doors in a while that isn't a regular customer," you say casually as he approaches the counter. "Are you just passing through town?"
"Actually, uh, I just moved back," he answers, shoving his hands into his pockets, seemingly nervous again all of a sudden.
"Oh! So you're from here," you reply, genuinely surprised.
He chuckles. "I could tell you didn't recognize me. I'm Chan, I was a grade behind you in school."
Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. Of course you remember Chan — he was the small, nerdy kid with thick-rimmed glasses who hardly ever spoke, spending all his lunches doing homework alone or trading Pokémon cards with the other nerdy kids. He lived down the street from your best friend, but that's about all you ever knew about him. Rumor had it he was going to Harvard to become an aerospace engineer, but after graduation you never saw or heard from him again.
But that was all years ago. The man standing before you now is unrecognizable from the dorky kid you knew from childhood. You have so many questions, but none of them feel appropriate to ask right this moment.
"Oh my god," you say, trying not to look as shocked as you actually are. "I thought you looked familiar, but I wasn't sure…"
"It's okay," he smiles sheepishly. "I've been getting that a lot. I guess that's what happens when you've been gone for almost eight years. I was actually really surprised to see you in here, I always remember this being your mom's shop when we were in school."
"Yeah, I took over managing the store when she got sick," you tell him. "I wasn't ever planning on doing it long-term, but after she passed it felt like a good way to keep her memory alive."
"Oh," Chan says softly. "I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Thank you," you say sincerely. "She was sick for a few years, so it didn't come as a surprise. But it still was really hard, especially moving back into the house by myself."
He nods sympathetically. "Not exactly the same, but it is weird to be back in my parents' house all these years later as well. I just never thought I'd find myself back here, not like this anyway."
You figure his recent breakup is the reason for him being here, but you definitely don't want to bring up a sore subject. He is clearly suffering enough as is.
"Life sure knows how to throw a curveball, huh," you say with a slight smile.
"You can say that again."
"Well, thanks for coming in," you say warmly to Chan after he pays for his tarot reading. "Hopefully I was able to help you find some answers."
"Yeah," he nods. "I hope so too."
He is almost to the front door when a thought pops into your mind.
"Wait," you call out. He turns, looking back at you with a confused look on his face. You grab something off the counter and walk over, handing the small object to him. He takes it in his open palm — it's a small bird-shaped pendant, carved out of jade and hanging from a leather string.
"For good luck," you tell him as he stares at the talisman.
"I don't—"
"It's on the house," you smile at him.
Chan looks up at you, his brown eyes locking with yours momentarily.
"Thank you," he replies, looking down at the pendant again before slipping it in his pocket. You can tell he doesn't really believe in good luck charms, but he is genuinely appreciative of the gesture anyway.
The next time you run into Chan, you're in the middle of the bread aisle at the grocery store.
"Can I help you find anything?" a voice calls out from behind you. You turn around to see him, wearing the green Lee's Market and Pharmacy employee vest, restocking six-packs of bagels on the shelves.
"Oh, hi!" you respond suprisedly. "I kinda forgot your parents own the grocery store," you say with a chuckle.
"Yeah," he laughs sheepishly. "They were happy to let me move back home — with the one stipulation that I helped out at the store."
"Hey, nothing wrong with that," you reassure him.
"No, I suppose not," he replies casually, but he still carries the same heavy aura he had when he stepped foot in your shop a couple weeks ago.
"You know, I never knew what happened to you after we graduated," you say to him. "You were one of the few people who actually ever made it out of this town."
He chuckles. "I suppose that's true."
"Everyone thought you were gonna go work at NASA or something."
He cocks his head, a confused expression appearing on his face. "What?" he laughs. "Why did people think that?"
"Because you were always the smartest kid in school."
"You mean I was a nerd," he raises his brow at you.
"That's not what I said!" you protest playfully, but he just smiles.
"It's okay, it's true. I was an absolute dweeb. Definitely not cool enough to work at NASA or anything."
"But you did go to college."
"Yup," he answers. "UChicago. Got my degree in Computer Science."
"Holy shit," you respond bluntly. "That's so impressive."
He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, well, look at me now," he replies, gesturing to the store around him. "Some use of my degree, huh?"
"I'm sure you'll be able to find a new job soon," you console him. "Everyone wants to hire smart computer people these days, or at least so I've heard."
He looks at you, debating whether to elaborate any further. He's already said too much. But, for some reason, talking to you comes easily.
"It's not really finding a job that's the problem," he admits. "I just… needed to get out of Chicago. But my whole life was there, so it feels like I'm completely starting over now."
"I'm sorry," you tell him sincerely. "That's definitely not easy."
"Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all this," he shakes his head.
"It's okay — really," you smile softly at him. "Happens all the time. You wouldn't believe some of the things people have told me."
"Is that a psychic thing?"
"That's part of it, I think," you answer. "I've been told I'm a good listener."
"You are," he replies warmly.
The aura of sadness he carries still surrounds him, but it seems a little bit lighter than before. As he leans over, you spot a black leather string around his neck. The pendant is hidden beneath his shirt, but you can immediately tell its the jade bird charm you gave to him.
"Well, I'll let you get back to work, now," you say amicably, trying not to smile too much. "It was nice running into you again!"
Chan smiles back. "You too, y/n."
A few weeks pass without you running into Chan again, but you've thought of him more times in that duration than you'd like to admit. You also don't want to admit that you got butterflies when he suddenly walked into your shop on a random Tuesday afternoon, but alas, you did.
"Hi!" you greet him cheerfully, trying not to smile too much.
"Hi," he grins back at you. "I thought I might run into you here."
"Good intuition. You must be psychic, too."
"Well, I don't know about that," he laughs.
"What brings you in today?" you inquire.
"Actually, I was wondering if you could do another tarot reading for me," he says shyly. "I don't know how often I can do that or anything, but… yeah. If you can."
His earnestness make you giggle.
"There's no limit to tarot readings," you tell him. "You can do it every day, if you want."
"Oh, cool," he smiles. "Then yes, one tarot reading please."
You return to the small reading room with Chan. As you light the candle, it somehow feels more intimate than before. Maybe because you actually know who he is now; but you can feel that you've formed a strong connection with him, completely unintentionally — but you sense that he feels it too.
"Alright," you start once you're all set up. "Do you have specific question today? Or would you just like a general reading again?"
"Just a general reading."
You shuffle the cards thoroughly, placing the deck before you and drawing the top card.
"Strength, Reversed," you read as you set it on the table. "This represents insecurity, self-esteem issues, lack of confidence in your own abilities. You feel like the happiness is being drained from you, and you might even feel depressed. But remember — this first card represents your past. To me, that suggests you might be overcoming this negative period in your life."
"I sure hope you're right," he chuckles halfheartedly. You sense that, for the first time in a very long while, he's feeling cautiously optimistic.
"For the present," you say as you draw the next card, placing it beside the first. "We have Temperance, Upright. This represents balance and moderation — you are able to remain calm even in the face of stress, which indicates you are experiencing a period of inner peace. You have a clear vision of what you want to achieve in the future, so you are able to grow."
"Okay, not bad," he nods, a slight smile poking at the corners of his mouth. "I like the sound of that."
"And for the future…"
You draw the final card, displaying it beside the others. "Death, Upright," you read, making Chan's smile drop.
"Again?!" he exclaims, slumping despondently into his chair.
"Well, the good news is it's upright this time," you tell him. "It still has to do with change, but this indicates the end of an old cycle and the beginning of something new. A metamorphosis in your life, if you will."
"Oh," he says softly, perking back up. "Really?"
You nod. "I didn't need the card to tell me that, though," you say with a grin. "I could already sense it."
Back out in the shop, you try to tell Chan the reading was on the house, but he insists on paying.
"Okay, at least let me give you my friends and family discount, then."
"Are you calling me your friend?" he asks cheekily, but you just nod.
"Yes, I am. If that's alright with you."
"Of course it is," he grins.
An idea pops into your mind. Without a second thought, you blurt it out before he can leave.
"Would you want to come over for dinner sometime?"
"Oh!" he replies, sounding surprised but excited. "Sure!"
"I'm not exactly a Michelin star chef or anything, but I can cook up a decent meal."
He smiles at you. "I would like that a lot."
You haven't had anybody over to the house in years.
You have a few friends around town, sure, but no one you're particularly close to anymore. Normally, this doesn't bother you — you enjoy being by yourself. But, as much as you hate to admit it, you have been feeling a bit lonely lately.
You spend the day tidying up the house, making it look extra welcoming. You even cut some fresh flowers from the garden, placing them in a vase to display on the table. There's a couple more hours before you have to start cooking, so you curl up on the couch with your book to pass the time. Once you finish the book, you're about to go start on dinner, but the deck of tarot cards on your coffee table catches your eye. You haven't actually read for yourself in a while, so you figure why not?
You shuffle the deck and draw your first card — it's the High Priestess, Reversed. You frown slightly. This is telling you that recently, you've been ignoring your intuition, not following your gut as much as you should be. You think again about the loneliness you've been feeling lately, about how you've been wishing to do something about it, but have done nothing.
Your draw the next card, revealing it to be Judgement, Reversed — telling you you are currently in a period of reflection and renewal. You're finding a sense of purpose, and gaining a clearer understanding about where you are and what you want for your future. Which is certainly true — because as much as you'd like to ignore it, you do wish you had someone to be by your side at all times, someone to share your life with on a much more intimate level than any of your current relationships.
The third card you pull is The Lovers, Upright. Because of course it is. The start of a supportive relationship is in your future, bringing you balance, harmony, trust and love.
You put the deck away, heading to the kitchen to begin cooking before it gets too late. But the whole time you're prepping veggies you can't stop thinking about Chan. There has to be a reason he came back into your life right here and now — maybe one you can't see at the moment, but you trust that the universe is on your side here.
Dinner is nearly finished when the doorbell rings. You flutter over to the front door, opening it to reveal your dinner guest, dressed handsomely in nice slacks and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, carrying a fancy-looking bottle of wine. A big smile lights up his face when he sees you, and you can't help but smile too.
"Wow, you look so nice," you say as you invite him in. "I feel underdressed to my own dinner party."
"Nonsense," he shakes his head. "You look lovely."
As you lead him inside to the dinner table he hands the wine over to you.
"I hope this is alright. I wasn't sure what you liked."
You look at the label. It's a Cabernet Sauvignon, five years aged — definitely a little bit fancy.
"No, this is great," you smile. "I actually bought some wine as well, but yours looks much nicer."
"Okay, good," he replies, looking relieved. "I don't know anything about wine, so I kind of just grabbed this off the shelf at the store and hoped it was a good one."
You return to the kitchen and open the bottle, pouring the both of you a generous glass of the dark red wine. Dinner now ready as well, you plate up the food and bring it out to the dining room.
"This looks amazing," he praises as you set the salmon and risotto in front of him.
You chat as you eat, talking about anything and everything. Conversation with Chan seems to come naturally — you don't even usually feel this comfortable talking to people you do know well, but with him you can talk about childhood memories as if you are old friends.
"Do you remember that one summer when everyone was convinced there was a bigfoot in the woods?"
"Oh my god, I do," Chan replies with a laugh. "I never played outside, but even I went out there and tried to find bigfoot."
"Did you ever see him?"
"No, I took three steps into the woods and got scared," he admits. "I ran all the way home. Ran so fast I had an asthma attack, actually."
"Oh no," you gasp, but he shakes his head.
"It's okay, my mom never let me leave the house without my inhaler in my pocket," he grins. "That was one of the few times I ever got into trouble as a kid."
"My mom said there was probably just a crazy old man living out there, and that's what everyone was seeing," you say, sipping at your wine. "But I always liked to think there were magical creatures in the woods. Made life more interesting."
"Do you still think that?" he asks.
"Not exactly," you smile. "But sometimes I like to pretend."
As you finish your glass of wine, Chan offers to pour you another.
"I wasn't planning on having this much wine, honestly," he tells you as he fills both of your glasses. You can tell he's a little bit tipsy — if his giggly state didn't give it away, the tomato-red ears and neck certainly would.
"Me neither," you gush. Your cheeks burn hot, and you know it's not just from the wine.
Meal and drinks long gone, you sit there with Chan for far longer than you anticipated, talking and laughing and enjoying each others' company. Eventually, you both realize how late it's gotten.
"Well, I don't want to overstay my welcome," Chan tells you reluctantly. You can tell he's being polite, because he doesn't want the night to end either. This is the most fun he's had in a long while — you hate to know that he was in a dark place for so long, but the fact that his aura feels significantly brighter after tonight makes you smile.
You linger together by the front door for a minute, dragging out your goodbyes. He finally turns to leave, reaching for the doorknob, but he pauses. Turning back to you, his dark eyes meet yours, and you notice how little space there is between the two of you.
"You can say no," he says softly, his heart beating a million miles a minute. "But can I kiss you?"
A huge grin spreads across your face. Without a word you step forward, grabbing gently onto his waist as you kiss him on the lips. For a second, he is genuinely stunned, but with your lips on his he quickly wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as you both melt into the kiss. After several sweet moments, your mouths part, you let go, stepping back slightly to meet his gaze again.
"We should do this again sometime," you beam at him. He smiles back, staring at you affectionately.
