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My hero | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader
Genre: Married fluff, (a tiny bit of angst)
Word count: 2.400
Requested: yes
Warnings: mention of a stomach bug (very briefly) insecurities (both), self-depricating jokes (both), some marriage difficulties, caring for a child, they're EXTREMELY in love, tooth-rotting fluff

Both you and Chan loved to have your crazy fun, but to a certain limit. A limit you both understood so well, as if it was truly a shared items between your minds. Therefore, after your long awaited wedding ceremony, where tears were shed, dances were danced, cake ended up on the floor and someone's shirt, the bouquet throwing almost knocked someone out, and fortunately no relative started a fight - you both drove peacefully, home. No long flights to Honolulu, no rushing for any 5 star hotel reservation. Just a long, deep sleep.
You awake and instantly chuckle. You barely remember that you basically threw your wedding dress on top of the bedroom door last night instead of finding a hanger. Slept with the door open and all, but you were so exhausted you don't remember even washing your teeth. You turn around gingerly and find your newlywed husband, Chris, to be slightly salivating on the pillow. Nose half shoved inside the fluff, hair every which way and his cute ears poking through, his silver earrings still on. He was a sight to behold, and this sight was truly now yours.
You brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes, and as you accidently touch his ear he shudders. You procrastinate for a good five minutes, in which you gently pet his hair, and then lean to kiss him on the forehead before you get out of bed.
"No, don't leave." He calls out to you, his voice raspy and his accent thick. You give into the temptation and lay back down next to him.
"Good morning, my husband." You say, and it's so cheesy it makes you giggle.
"Good morning, my wife." He says with a toothy grin. You just married him, and you have a lifetime ahead of you to admire him and love him, and yet you're impatiently urging to jump on him and smother him in kisses for how adorable he looks. Cuteness agression and all.
You decide you won't be eating Chris alive one kiss at the time, and instead you lay your head on his outstretched arm and allow him to wrap the other one around your back, bringing you one breath away from his chocolate eyes admiring you sleepily.
"So, what will be our first important decision taken as husband and wife?" Chris asks you, and you furrow your brows. Does he mean something like deciding to paint the room green or getting a cactus?
"Deciding what to eat for breakfast?" He chuckles at your answer.
"The most important meal of the day! Yeah I think that's a very big decision to make. And as your husband, to showcase my deep trust in you, I allow you to have complete power over this first decision." He speaks so eloquently, you slap him on the arm and he begins to giggle.
"You're just too lazy to help me think!"
"What? Me? Neveeeerr."
"And I'm guessing you also want me to go get said breakfast if you're letting me decide what we eat." Chris pretends to gasp.
"How did you know? See, we're perfect for each other! You can read my mind." He makes that usual tutting noise as he winks at you and you go from adoring him to wanting to shove a pillow in his face. But most marriages are like this, you imagine.
"Fine, I'll do it. Under one condition."
"Anything my wife desires."
"You have to answer why you chose me. Like, as your wife. Why me and not anyone else?"
"Why not?" Chris answers with a laugh and you're reaching for the pillow and he doesn't even try to dodge.
"No but really, why did you?" You try your hardest to not show that this is a real question for you. Not just a joke to put your husband in a tough spot for fun, but an actual curiosity that makes you insecure. And Chan hates it when you're insecure.
"I chose you as my wife." You squint at him in a feeble attempt to understand his words.
"Yeah .... you did, since we just got.... married... But why me?" Chan laughs and flails his arms, probably realizing his words didn't come out very coherently.
"No, I chose you as my wife the entire time. It just took me a very long time to realize it.
When I needed an opinion on a song, for some reason I chose you instead of, y'know, the people who produce music with me. When Seungmin caught that stomach bug and I needed to get him to the hospital, I chose to call you to come with us. When I needed to have a serious conversation with someone, I'd call you up even if I'd be surrounded by 15 close friends in physical range of me. I used to choose you even if it was irrational, even if I was a burden to you-"
"You were never a burden to me, Chris."
"I hope I wasn't." He laughs awkwardly, almost as if embarrassed. "But anyways... Yeah. In the beginning I thought I was just being silly, but then I started to notice what I was doing. When my parents asked me if I've met anyone new, I chose you to talk about. Literally yapped for hours - you should have seen their faces! They knew I was in love way before I did. And when I was tasked with writing a love song...I chose you to write about. And then the next morning I chose to start sending you good morning messages every day. Then when I pictured Valentine's day... There was no other option other than spending it with you. So I chose to ask you out before Valentine's so when the holiday comes I could spoil you. And then I just... Continued to choose you. Over and over again." He finishes with a smile, in contrast to you who started crying many sentences ago. You thought you were done crying after yesterday's ceremony, but Chris is a man full of surprises.
"You even chose me over your career a few times..." You say as more tears escape you, a feeling of guilt washing over you. Although the fact that he sacrificed the thing he cares the most about in this world for your sake should prove his dedication, it also still makes you feel guilty to think about.
"And I'd do it again." He leans closer, wiping the tears off of your face, then taking your hand in his to lay tiny kisses on it. "So you see how I just... Chose you? From the get go? It's like I knew I could rely on you, trust you, love you eternally. From the day we met. So it's not... Anything you said or something specific. I just chose you. All of you. To be mine. All mine." He pulls you into a tight embrace and you feel the way your body wraps around his by instinct. Like you were molded to blend together. "You're mine." He kisses the side of your forehead and butterflies wreck your tummy. "My wife."
"But you could have chosen anyone else..." You still mutter unsurely, but Chris shushes you and pats your head.
"But I didn't. And I won't." He reassures you, rocking you left and right in a calming motion. He truly wishes he would be better at showing you and telling you just how much he loves you, how much he wants you in his life. He could never blame you for having insecurities about yourself, but at the same time he feels although he's failing as a lover if he lets those those thoughts invade your mind. He truly wishes his love could seep into your bones.
"So you don't just want me for my spicy chicken recipe?" You try to joke, to ease the atmosphere, bringing Chan out of his thoughts.
"I mean ... The spicy chicken is included in the package, right?" He continued the joke, but underneath that pearly smile he gave you, Chan was set on making you the happiest wife on earth. Whatever it took.
Even if that meant some arguments, some bumps down the road, and making you uncomfortable with affection and attention until you allowed him to love you well. That was a part of marriage no one warned you about, something you had to figure out along the way - that sometimes you have to make each other uncomfortable in order to grow. Sometimes you have to push some limits to become happier.
And so many years into the future, after the birth of you first son, you pushed a limit that wouldn't even seem humanly possible to Chris. You somehow convinced him to go on tour and leave you alone to care for your son. He was two seconds away from quitting his job and becoming a convenience store worker upon hearing just how many months he'd have to away from you and your four year old son, who needed very much to be around his dad at that age. But you convinced him, reassured him everything was going to be okay in his absence.
"Dada's out there spreading happiness into the world." You whispered to your son, who was sleeping in the same bed as you ever since Chris left on tour.
"Like a superhero?"
"Exactly like a superhero, baby. To every single city he goes, he makes people so happy he saves their lives."
"Dada's so cool." Instead of being able to calm him down to get him to sleep, it seems your son gained energy from the conversation instead. He was now flailing his tiny limbs around.
"Do you wanna watch Dada perform?" There is a video of Chris you have saved up on your phone, from a solo stage he had during a concert where he sang a lullaby. It was the most children friendly performance you had, plus it matched the melodicity of the songs Chris used to sing to you at night to soothe your pregnancy pains.
Your son always falls asleep listening to his father's voice, almost through magic.
When his breathing evened out, you thought it was finally time you kick back and relax with an episode of your favorite show while enjoying some not-so-recommended late night chocolate. As you headed into the hallway, you spotted Chan leaning on the wall and had to glue a hand over your mouth to not scream and wake up your son.
"Chris, you scared the shi- .... heck outta me! What are you doing here?"
"We have a few days off in between stops and I couldn't just sit in a hotel for three days while I was dying to see you two."
"So you're telling me you spent 10 hours on flight, to stay here for one day and then fly back to god knows where?"
"Exactly." He says, face full of dimples and his eyes sparkle in the dark shadows of the hallway.
"You're insane." You laugh quitely.
"No, I'm... a superhero...? That saves lives...? You gotta let me know what you've been telling him, or else he might be disappointed in me when he finds out I can't fly."
"You don't need to fly to be a superhero."
"Oh yeah? Then care to tell me what makes me a superhero?" He flirts with you, gently pushing your hips into the wall behind you as he leans over you. You keep an eye on the door to make sure your son doesn't wake up and walk in to see how big of a flirt his father is. He'll have decades to cringe over it later.
"Remember when I used to feel bad for all the nice things you used to do for me? All the help and the gifts?"
"Mhm." The limits Chris used to push and how they bothered you - they resulted in a lot of friction early on in the marriage.
"And you told me that I need to allow you to make me happy. And since then... I chose to. Just how you chose me to be your wife... I chose to let you make me happy. I chose to allow you to be my hero. It's tricky, because heroes need sleep too ..." You softly caress his cheeks, and even under the dim atmosphere of the hallway you can see the dark bags under his eyes. "and they can't always save the day... but I swear to God you make the world a better place. You make my world a better place. You're my hero."
Chris leans in to kiss you in the same way he did when you were young and unmarried. It's a kiss that burns you, a kiss that makes you feel like a woman. A kiss that made you want to be married. A kiss that teaches you to breathe underwater.
"You call me a superhero when you're literally managing a house, a job, a kid, a long distance relationship, a social life and yourself all at once. And somehow nothing is on fire and you're not losing you mind even when your good for nothing husband doesn't call or text for days."
"Don't talk about yourself like that!" You slap him on the chest, but unfortunately he's not in a joking mood.
"You're the superhero between the two of us, honey. If there's one thing I've learnt along the years it's... That the reason why I chose you as my wife.. the one you were asking me about all those years ago? Maybe there was actually a reason. That you were always stronger than me."
"Me? You're joking, right?"
"Not at all. You're the hero, I'm just trying to be the wind behind your wings. I'm sorry for missing your calls and not video-calling more often, and just.. being gone in general. I've missed you." You decided to drop the subject since Chris seemed too emotional to be coherent. You weren't mad at him for anything, and he surely was undermining himself by calling you the strong one.
Unfortunately, it's not like you would accept the title of hero and he wouldn't accept it either.
The one thing you didn't realize is that you were both superheroes. But it's okay, since your son was onto you a long time ago. He'll protect your secret, and hopefully, also grow into a superhero himself.
©amelee23 do not copy, translate or repost
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pieces of you
single dad!chan. x fem!reader
genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc
summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.
a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated đ€ the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!
winter falls masterlist.

i.Â
âI canât believe youâre making me do this.â
âShh, daddy smile.â
Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation.Â
A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attireâa loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.
âWhatââ the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.Â
âHey there,â your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.Â
âHi, my dad wants to tell you something,â she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.Â
âYour dad?â
âMm. Heâs a bit shy, thatâs why heâs hiding,â she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.Â
âAnd you arenât shy?â you inquire, tilting your head.Â
âNu-uh,â she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.Â
She isn't shy because she feels protected.
You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes. Â
Heâs beautiful.Â
Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.
âSorry for bothering you,â a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.
âI'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually donât have flour,â he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.Â
âYou didnât check beforehand?â you ask, laughter tinting your voice.Â
âI forgot,â he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.
âCan we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said itâs too cold out,â he asks, his hand resting on his daughterâs shoulder soothingly.Â
âIt is too cold out,â you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.Â
âAnd of course, I'll bring you flour. Donât worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?â
âIt's okay, we'll wait here. Donât want to intrude.âÂ
âThank you!â Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.Â
âYeah, thank you so muchâŠâ he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.
âYn. And you?â
âChris.â
âNice to meet you, Chris,â you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if youâre grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes canât behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.Â
Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowonâs nose. âAnd nice to meet you too Rapunzel.âÂ
Your words make her hide behind her fatherâs leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.Â
âSee I'm not the only one who gets shy,â Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dadâs grey sweatpants.Â
Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.Â
âShe gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?â
âAre you calling me old then?â Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowonâs back.Â
âOld enough to forget about flour,â you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.Â
âTouchĂ©.âÂ
A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracksâ Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.Â
âDid sheâŠâ you whisper and he turns to you.Â
âYeah, fell asleep,â he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. âSheâll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.â
âYou donât know how to make them?âÂ
âNo, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,â he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.Â
âWell, keep the flour, in case you need it again.âÂ
âThank you, Yn,â he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.Â
âYouâre welcome Chris,â you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.Â
Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.
âUhm,â he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. âI'll get going.â
âYeah, sleep well, Chris.â
âThank you,â he smiles before turning around.Â
An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you wouldâve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.Â
One hour laterÂ
You knock softly on Chrisâ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.Â
âHi,â you greet, hands behind your back.Â
âHey,â he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.Â
âCookies,â you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.Â
âYou made them?âÂ
âYeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,â you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.Â
âYou didn't have to do this,â he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.Â
âI know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,â you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.Â
âThank you, Yn, I donât even know what to say,â he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.Â
âNo need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,â you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.Â
âNo, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,â he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two.Â
âStudio?â you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.Â
âI'm a music producer,â he clarifies. âI made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.âÂ
âI'm sure she appreciates that,â you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.
âIâŠ. I'll get going.â
âYeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.â
âI'll see you around.âÂ
âYeah, I'll see you,â he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.Â
ii.Â
âCan you wait!â a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.Â
You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chrisâ leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.
You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.Â
âHey, Yn,â he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.Â
âHey, Chris,â you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.Â
âThe cookies were good,â he smiles softly and you grin. âI'm glad you think so.âÂ
âWhere is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.âÂ
The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.
âI can text you the address?â you propose.Â
âYeah, here,â he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screenâ their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.
âCute picture,â you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.Â
âShe insists on trying her makeup on me.âÂ
âShe makes you look better,â you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.Â
âShe wants to become a stylist,â he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.
âI find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,â he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.Â
âLet me guess, she wants to use these on you?â
âYeah. She also said that I quote âneed to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.ââ He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.Â
âShe has you wrapped around your finger,â you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.Â
âShe can be very scary for such a little girl.âÂ
âWhat does she threaten you with?â you ask, feigning horror.Â
âNo goodnight kisses,â he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.Â
âTorture,â you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?Â
âUhm,â you clear your throat, âI can help you. with her hair, I mean.âÂ
âYou don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,â he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the worldâs burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.Â
âI don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.âÂ
And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.
âThank you,â he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.Â
âYouâre welcome. Let me just change my clothes.âÂ
âïžâêłâąâ
âAnd then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,â you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.Â
âIt looks easy when you do it,â he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.Â
âDo you like it,â you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.Â
âPretty!â she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. âYou are pretty.â
âAnd you are pretty too. right, daddy?â
You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.
âVery much so,â he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.Â
Sowon suddenly climbs on her dadâs lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.Â
Were there red neon exits you werenât aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someoneâs hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?
âWhat do you think?â Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.
âI love it!â you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.Â
âFun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,â he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.Â
âDid you just roll your eyes at me?â he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. âDad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.âÂ
âOh, right,â he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, âthen, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?â
âWill you watch a movie later with me?â
âOf course, baby.â
âOkay then,â she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.Â
âYou can stay and watch the movie with us.â
âIt's okay, I have some things to work on,â you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.Â
âAre you okay?â he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.Â
âWeâre conditioned to say yes even when we arenât, right?â he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your bloodâ which one will reach your heart first and flood it?Â
Your facade cracks. His voice wins.Â
âSo, you don't have to reply now,â his thumb swipes once across your pulse. âBut I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.âÂ
iii.
Youâve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.
âShould I start buying groceries for you?â you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the worldâs eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.Â
âFor my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,â he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.Â
âJust with salt?â
âShe added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,â he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.Â
Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.
It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You wouldâve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didnât know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.Â
âCan you please come over,â you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.
âWhy are you whispering? are you okay?â he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didnât ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.Â
âThere is a cockroach. a flying one,â you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.Â
âI'm from Australia,â he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. âI've seen worse,â he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.Â
He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. âI don't think I can sleep in there tonight,â you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, âwhy does it feel like we went through war?âÂ
âWe? You were behind my back all the time.â
 âI was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.â
 âI canât believe a cockroach scares you this much.â
 âYou literally screamed when it flied towards you too.â
 âI didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.â
 âMm, sure,â you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.Â
And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.Â
âLet's watch Tangled,â Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.Â
âBaby, we watched this movie for the pastâŠâ he looks at you for support. âThree,â you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. âYeah, for the past three movie nights,â he whines slightly.
âBut I love it,â she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. âAgain! Again! Again!â
âFine,â he concedes, mouthing âsave me,â from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chrisâ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality sheâs ever known.
It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.
âShe fell asleep,â you whisper, tapping Chrisâ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.Â
âI'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,â he says apologetically and you shake your head.Â
âI don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.âÂ
âAre you here just because of the movie?â he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. Heâs cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.Â
âWhat do you want me to be here for?â you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.Â
âThe company.â
âI do find Sowon entertaining.â
âJust her?â he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.Â
âAnd you too, I suppose, by extension.â
âBy extension, mm,â he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. âThen I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.â
âSo sassy,â you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, âI like your company too, idiot.âÂ
âYeah?â he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesnât care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.Â
âYeah, Chris, I really do,â you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.Â
He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. âYn,â she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.Â
He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.Â
Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece thatâll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps heâd let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.Â
One week later.Â
You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your homeâs entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.Â
"Whatâs wrong?" you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.
âSowon,â he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm.Â
"Sowon?" you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.
"Yes, she has a high fever, and it wonât come down. I tried everything, and I-I donât know what to do anymore. Sheâs shaking, but I canâtâ" He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse. Â
âItâs okay,â you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. âLetâs go see her, okay?â
âIt's her first time being this sick,â he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.Â
âIt's okay. Donât panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?â
âYes, a few minutes ago,â he replies as you guide him towards her room.
âGood, it'll start working soon,â you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.
âHey, Rapunzel," you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.
âHow are you feeling?â you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.
âCold,â she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. âI know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?â
âI-Iâm shaking,â Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.Â
âShh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,â you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.
"Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?" you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.
"Sure. Sure," he repeats, scurrying out of the room.
Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.
"Thank you," you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Someone's knee gently.
âHey sweetheart,â he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.Â
âHey daddy,â she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.Â
âYou're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,â he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.Â
The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.Â
âI love you too,â she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowonâs eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.Â
You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.
âIt's better now,â you smile reassuringly and Chrisâs eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.Â
âWill she be okay?âÂ
âShe will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.âÂ
âOkay, thank you.âÂ
âCan we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?âÂ
âMm,â he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowonâs features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.Â
"She looks just like you," you softly smile.
"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.
âChrisâŠâ you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.Â
âLet's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,â he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.Â
You get your answer soon afterâit takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chrisâs cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.
A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chrisâs hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.
You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.
The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.
Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.Â
"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.Â
âI'm a horrible father,â he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himselfâan adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.
âYou're not, what are you saying?â you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.Â
âI didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.â
âIt's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-â
âNo, no, no, it's not just about this!â he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. âItâs hard. Itâs so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.âÂ
âYou're wrong,â you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. âChris, you're wrong,â you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.Â
âYou love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.âÂ
âWhat if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?â he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.Â
âShe loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.â
You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.
âIf I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,â you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.Â
âYou won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,â you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. âTo be cared for.âÂ
Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak ofâ Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.
âI'm sorry,â he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.Â
âWhy are you apologizing?âÂ
âSo you'd find a reason within you to forgive,â he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.Â
Five days later.
chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?
yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years
chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs
chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didnât mean it like that ă
ă
Â
chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspiredÂ
yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?Â
chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiringÂ
You donât reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.Â
âWhat are you working on?â you ask once youâre settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. âA song for Sowon,â he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.Â
âThat is so sweet,â you pout, inching closer to him. âHow is it going?â
âI've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.âÂ
âCan I read what you wrote?âÂ
âYeah. Yeah, sure,â he searches through his papers. âHere.â
May these words be the first to find your ears
The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here
I'll give you everything I have
I'll teach you everything I know
I promise I'll do better
I will soften every edge
I'll hold the world to its best
And I'll do better
Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.Â
âI'm sorry,â you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and heâs kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.Â
Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. âIs it so bad it made you sob?âÂ
âShut up, you know this isnât the case.âÂ
His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.
âTalk to me?âÂ
âIt's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,â a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. âEverything my parents never felt for me.âÂ
Chrisâ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.Â
âI don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chanâs hold on your hands tightens. âIt stings to remember what couldâve been.âÂ
Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?Â
âCome here,â he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.Â
âYou grew up well, Yn. You did well.â
You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.Â
âLove can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.âÂ
He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.Â
âYouâre doing well too, Chris. You shouldnât doubt yourself as much,â your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. âSowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.â
âIs that what she told you that movie night?â
âPartly,â you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.Â
âWhat else did she tell you?â he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.
You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.
âShe thanked me, said that I make you smile more.â You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. âDo I?âÂ
âThere are small lines that donât show on my face until you're near.âÂ
âOh.â That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. âCute,â he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.
âSorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,â you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chrisâs laptop. âI wanna hear this,â you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.
âThis one? Itâs not really good, let's listen to something else,â his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.
connected.mp3 starts playing.Â
Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isnât you.Â
You wished to be the only one Chris liked.Â
âItâs a- a demo for one of my clients,â he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your bodyâs temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.Â
So, you put on your best taunting smirk.
âI know you want me donât crumble.. No need to be desperate weâre just getting started,â you sing-song back. âYou were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?â you grin, inching your chair closer to his. âFeeling yourself, Mr. Bang?â
He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.
âItâs cute how affected you seem by it,â he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.
âI'm not,â you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. âI think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,â you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.Â
âI was thinking of a pretty girl.â
âYeah?â
âMm,â he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. âThe prettiest.â
"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.
âyââ The door suddenly opens, Sowonâs small frame standing by the door, sheâs rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.
âDaddy, I can't sleep,â she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until sheâs buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.
âWant me to sing to you, sweetheart?â
âYes,â she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.Â
âSleep well, Sowonnie,â you whisper.Â
âCanât you stay with us?â she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.
To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you arenât opposed to it.Â
You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.Â
You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. âI'll stay till you fall asleep.âÂ
Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till youâre no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.Â
iv.Â
Youâre avoiding him.Â
Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that youâre tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.Â
Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chrisâ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.Â
He misses you. He never thought heâd miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasnât a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up forâ one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.Â
He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.
He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles awayâ your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.Â
Heâd remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyesâ the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughterâs rambles.
How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?
âDad?â Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. Sheâs sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.
âYes, sweetheart?â he asks, walking over to her side.
âWhere is Ynnie?â she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.
âI don't know, baby.â
âDoes she not want to play with me anymore?â Sowon whispers, and he doesnât remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.Â
âNo!â he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowonâs face between his much larger hands. âOf course not baby she loves you a lot.â
âOkayâŠâ she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.
âDo you wanna work in the studio with me?â he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. âYes!âÂ
âFinish your food first, okay Wonnie?âÂ
âOkay!âÂ
In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.
So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he wouldâve knocked much sooner.Â
âHi,â you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowonâs bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.
âYou're avoiding me,â he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.
âI'm not,â you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.
"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."
Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.Â
And then you speak.
âYou asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,â you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. âDo you still want to know my answer?â
âOf course, always.â
âI'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,â you chuckle dryly, âbut it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I⊠I can't, I-â
âWhat if I ask you to stay?â he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.
Heâs as scared as you are.
âChrisâŠâ
âWhat if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,â he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. âWould you? Would you stay?â
âI'm terrified,â you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.Â
âI know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.â
He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.Â
âOkay.â
âOkay?â
âI'm staying.â
âYou are?â
âI am,â you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.Â
âUm, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,â his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.
âThank you for asking me to stay.â
âYou made it less daunting,â he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. âI missed you.â
âI missed you too.â
He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. âWhy are you so nervous?â
âWhaaat? I'm not,â his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.Â
âWhat happened to connected Chris?âÂ
âHe is flustered by the girl he wrote about.â
Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.Â
âI think the girl should get paid for being the muse.â
âOh yeah?â he smirks, âI'll think about it.â His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. âLet's talk more tomorrow, okay?â
âOkay,â you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. âGood night, Chris.â
âGood night, yn.â
You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.Â
you win.Â
âI forgot something,â he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.Â
Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. âMy hope,â he whispers, as his lips find yours again, âmy missing piece.â
Heâs hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.
bonus (one year later).Â
âSo I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,â Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.Â
âHow much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?â you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.
âAnd⊠Wait, where is the flour?â he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.Â
âDaddy, you are really bad at groceries.â
âAm I?â he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chrisâ name.
âYes, itâs good Mom bought it,â she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.Â
It's her first time calling you mom.Â
You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"
âYes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.â
âWhat happened to being a stylist?â
âI can't be both?â she frowns innocently.Â
âYou can be anything you want, princess.â you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.Â
In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.
Heâll propose to you tomorrow.
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migration â§ b.c.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin
â series masterlist
pairing. bang chan x fem!reader. word count. 5.5k. genre. strangers to lovers, first date, fluff, angst.
warnings: none
summary: youâve never been successful with blind dates, but chan might just be the one to turn that all around
*if youâd like to join the taglist, please inbox me!
authorâs note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and iâm so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3
© please do not steal, translate, or re-upload anywhere else.
âSoâŠI know a guy.â
You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth youâre currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.
âCome on, I havenât even said anything yet!â
âThe problem is that youâve said anything at all.â You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.
Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. Theyâd recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.
Youâd been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the worldâs biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so youâd agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.
Long story short, it didnât.
Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole youâd ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbinâs circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid backâto study music of all thingsâand the sole reason for his fatherâs headache, as heâd put it. Thatâs where he met you.
âOkay, but I think this guy might be the one.â He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.
âAnd what would you know about that?â
âUm, a lot? Youâre my best friend, I know exactly what youâre looking for.â
This is the part where things go southâor so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He wonât get you this time. Not over your dead body.
âAt least let me tell you about him?â
âNo.â
âI met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I donât just say that stuff. That means heâs really good.â
Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.
âHeâs from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication wonât be as much of an issue as other guys.â
A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea isâŠpretty intriguing.
Despite moving here three years ago for school, itâs still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. Youâd basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. Heâd easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it werenât for him, you think that you mightâve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.
Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.
âHmm, what else? Oh! Dudeâs got a killer set of dimples. Youâre into that, arenât you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his nameâJeongsuk? JeongâJinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.â Changbin snaps his fingers like heâs impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. âHe has dimplessss.â He sing-songs for emphasis.
And, really, this should not be the breaking point. Youâre better than this. Youâre not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man youâve never metâlet alone never seen beforeâall because he has dimples.
But, once again, youâre a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.
âWhatâs his name?â
Changbin blinks like he wasnât expecting you to fall for it. âSeriously? Thatâs what got you?â
âYou have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.â
He scoffs, mouth agape. âI went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilitiesââ
âFive.â
ââtried to give you a little bit of a backstory, tooââ
âFour.â
ââand the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?â
âThree.â
âChan! His name is Chan. God. Justâstop counting. It freaks me out.â
Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. Itâs kind ofâŠcute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.
âYou swear this guy is normal?â
Changbin rolls his eyes. âDefine normal.â
âOkay, let me rephrase myself,â you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that youâre serious, âIs he an asshole?â
âNo.â
âHm. Okay. So thatâs a maybe.â
âWhat the fuck? I just said no.â
âYeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries werenât salted?â
âHow was I supposed to knowâŠâ Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.
âNevermind. Justâif this goes bad, Iâm blaming you. And then Iâm never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, Iâm never going on a date again, period. Deal?â
Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.
âDeal.â
đ„đż
Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.
Youâd gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before heâd even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.
When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chanâs name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because heâs early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadnât rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.
Chan [12:32p.m.]
Hey! Iâm really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?
Something came up at the studio
I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably wonât be too happy of their track isnât done on time
Great. Already off to a rough start.
In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that heâs messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldnât be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.
You [2:33p.m.]
no worries!!!
you didnât buy the tickets yet, did you?
Chan [2:34p.m.]
Nope! So we should be fine
Iâll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if thatâs cool?
You [2:36p.m.]
sounds perfect
hope stuff goes well at the studio!!
Chan [2:40p.m.]
Youâre sweet
Thank you, Iâll see you soon :)
Youâre sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.
Suddenly itâs way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really thereâs no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.
To be fair, itâs been almost a year now since youâve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a âItâs not you, itâs meâ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates youâve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.
Itâs a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you havenât even met him yet.
The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that heâs five minutes away.
You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesnât really call for all the dramatics, and youâd hate to overdress for a first impression.
Youâre in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.
Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.
You blink in surprise. Well thatâs a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chanâs face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.
HeâsâŠcute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.
He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. âHi there.â
It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. Heâs using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that youâre not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.
âHey.â You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.
âThese are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?â
You shake your head quickly. âNo! No, these areâtheyâre beautiful. I love them. Thank youâŠChan.â His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.
âGood, Iâm glad,â his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, âThis is weird, isnât it? Iâm sorry, I donât really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and Iâm excited. My car is parked just out front if youâre ready to go.â
Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like youâre in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.
Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.
đ„đż
Chan might not show it, but heâs just as nervous as you are.
You wouldnât be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.
When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasnât looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman heâs ever seen, heâs glad he said yes.
âSo what movie are we seeing?â you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. âWhat? Whatâs funny?â
âItâs a surprise.â He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.
Chan is sweet. He double checks that youâre buckled in before driving off, he asks if thereâs any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like heâs a figment of your imagination.
Chanâs been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when youâre not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything thatâs ever played on the radio.
You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, heâs got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australiaâs summers over Seoulâs winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesnât really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.
Chan talks like heâs an old friend, like heâs re-telling a story youâve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if youâve been here all along.
By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.
The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because itâs hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.
There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land onâ
âTwo tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.â
The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She canât be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that sheâs stuck here on a school night. âThe kids movie?â She asks, unimpressed.
Chan braves a glance in your direction andâah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. Youâd agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant heâd never stop doing that.
âYup, thatâs the one.â
Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. âWeâre seeing a kids movie?â You ask, moving up a spot in the line.
âMmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too clichĂ©,â he eyes you sidelong, âUnless youâre into that.â
You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, âI definitely am not.â
âHm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick wonât work?â His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.
âNope. Sorry. Seen that one before.â You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.
âI guess Iâll have to figure out something else then.â
Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.
âYou like peanut m&ms?â he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. âCould you grab the candy?â
First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. Itâs a little funny, the fact that two grown adultsâno kid in towâare walking into the showing of a kids movie.
Chan leads you to the very back row. âFor the kids, just in case they canât see over us.â He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.
âTaking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? Youâve got some nerve.â You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink thatâs placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.
âThatâs notââ You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.
âLearned this from my dad,â he says, opening the bag of m&ms, âItâs my favorite thing to do at the movies. Havenât been in a while becauseâwell, I donât really have anyone to go with.â
You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.
âOh my god,â he sighs, slumping into his seat, âForgot how good that is.â
When you donât respond, he looks over. âYou okay?â
Are you? Youâre not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.
The thing about it is that you donât do blind dates. And you most especially donât enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like itâs his last day on earth and heâs making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby whoâs wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dadâs favorite movie snack with you. Chan is justâŠChan. And you like him. A lot.
âYeah. Yeah, Iâm okay, Iâm justâthank you. For sharing that with me.â You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.
âStop doing that.â He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.
âDoing what?â
âSmiling. It makes my head spin.â
Your heart slams against your chest. Youâve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like itâs easy for him.
Thereâs no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.
Just like any other kids movie, itâs easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. Itâs almost like youâre a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.
Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. Itâs cheesy and clichĂ© but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.
About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when itâs clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.
âYou okay? You look kind of tired.â
Chan turns, confused. Heâs certain that he wasnât dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didnât run into any obstacles before your date. But that didnât really work out in the end.
âHuh? No, Iâm fine. Honest.â
âYou sure?â you ask, a slight lift to your voice, âI donât know, you looked like you were about to yawn.â
The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. Heâs pretty. So, so pretty.
Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.
âYou know, now that Iâm thinking about itâŠI am kind of tired.â He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since youâre in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.
You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chanâs side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. Heâs unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a âMânot cryingâ that has you giggling and doting all over him.
He doesnât move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like itâs something youâve done a thousand times.
âReady to go home?â He asks, looking over at you.
You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. âIs it weird if I say no?â
âNot at all,â Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, âI was hoping you would say that.â
đ„đż
âFor you.â
Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.
âThanks,â you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.
After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. Itâs quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.
âOh, you donâtââ
âYouâre cold,â he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesnât though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. âPlus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.â
âOh please,â you roll your eyes, âIgnore him. Iâm not a baby.â
Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that youâre staring. âIâm serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that youâre here alone and stuff.â
You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. âSo are you.â
Itâs Chanâs turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.
The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. Itâs kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions youâve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that youâd never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.
âHowâd you do it?â you ask quietly, turning to meet Chanâs gaze. âI mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I canât even imagine what that was like.â
Chan smiles, but itâs sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like heâs glowing. A flame thatâll never burn out. âWould you believe me if I said Iâm still figuring it out?â The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.
âI donât know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.â
Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. âMy parents hated it. Still do, I think.â You donât say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space youâre giving him to explain. âThey wanted more for me I guess. But Iâm not sure that more wouldâve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? Iâm content with where I am now. Iâm doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They donât see it.â He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cupâs rim.
Chan doesnât know why heâs saying any of this. Heâs not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until thereâs nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But youâre different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.
âI see it.â you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. âI mightâve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. Thereâs purpose in that, in you. Itâs okay to be selfish if it means youâre prioritizing your happiness.â You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you donât sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, heâs already looking back.
âYou donât know me enough to say that.â
âI donât have to know you to believe in you, Chan.â
A beat of silence, and then heâs laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.
âYouâreâŠâ
âWhat? Corny?â you supply, smiling over at him.
âNo,â he says, meeting your gaze. âPerfect.â
You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush thatâs spreading across your cheeks. âYou canât justâgod, now whoâs corny? Huh?â
âI never said I wasnât corny.â Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.
âYeah but you canât just say stuff like that.â
âWhy not? I think you like it.â
Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chanâs closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.
âI never said that.â you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.
âYou want me to stop then?â he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what heâs implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.
âIs it bad if I say no?â
Chanâs hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one thatâll never go out.
âNot at all,â he repeats, just like earlier, âI was hoping you would say that.â
A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chanâs lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.
Itâs slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. Heâs soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.
Youâre the first to pull away, admiring the way Chanâs eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.
âI donât think Iâve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.â You smile.
âMe too,â he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. âI donât normally kiss on the first date.â
âYeah, well, I donât normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that donât immediately go up in flames.â
âWhat about now?â Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. âHave I changed your mind?â
âHmm, I donât know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.â
Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.
âIs it bad if I say I like that idea?â He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.
âNope,â you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.
âWorst date ever, then?â he mumbles against your mouth.
âYeah,â you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, âWorst date ever.â
✠masterlist âŸ
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[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]
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flowers and confessions.

group: stray kids !
pairing: nonidol!bangchan x f!reader
genre: fluff, pinch of angst
warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, reader and chan are both whipped for eachother, chan is referred to as channie, yeji of ITZY and changbin have a crush on eachother in this au for the sake of the plot (NOT SHIPPING), reader and yeji are roommates, love confessions, college au, reader and chan like cooking together.
authors note: this is something i was doing with a friend of mine at uni a year back but he had a gf </3 i never ended up confessing, so i decided to make this story a happy ending :) this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)
wc: 3733
âand sheâs more of a tulip girl than a rose girl. got that?â
âyes maâamâ, chan chuckles nervously.
âlisten to me chan. youâre a good man, and i know if she gives you a chance sheâll give in eventually. just⊠please donât fuck it up.â
chan nods his head slowly, processing what sheâs said to him. âokay, iâll try my best not to. thank you, yejiâ
she nods, escorting chan out of her home.Â
âwhat could i doâŠ?â, chan thinks to himself. the walk his dorm isnât all that time consuming, but it feels even longer with the thoughts of you plaguing his mind.Â
the envelopes on his desk seem to strike up an idea. you guys are best friends, he doesnât want to ruin anything of course. so⊠why not confess anonymously?
âlike⊠love letters? from a secret admirer?â, changbin asks incredulously.
âyeah⊠im sure sheâll tell me about the letters and then⊠i can ask if she likes them. you know?â
changbin sighs, staring at chans lovestruck face. âyou do you. i donât need any letters because⊠iâve got these.â, changbin says as he points to his biceps and wiggles his eyebrows. âshut up binâ, chan chuckles.
he quickly goes back to his room, writing the first letter as an opening. he quickly writes the letter, placing it in an envelope and closing it with a red wax stamp.
the excitement was getting to him, he had a hard time sleeping that night.
-
âseriouslyâŠ?â, yeji stares at him, completely unamused.
âwhat⊠is it bad?â
âdude. i give you all of that info, and you use it for love letters?â
chan sheepishly nods at her. he knows itâs crazy, but he just doesnât want to say anything face to face yet. youâre such great friends already, heâs afraid that heâll ruin things.
âyeji, listen. this way, if i ask her about the letters and she says theyâre weird or something, i wonât have to handle direct rejection. she would never know it was me.â
yeji seems to be understanding this more now. âah⊠i see. go on then, make sure to make them super sappy. she loves that⊠for some reason.â, she rolls her eyes.
chan bows quickly, rushing to his next class. he canât stand being late to this one. itâs his favorite class, not because of the subject, but because of you. seeing your face and being able to sit next to you brightens up his mondays every time.Â
you watch as he makes his way up the stairs, a small smile on his face. âhey chanâ
âheyâ, he says with a smile.
he takes a seat next to you, the warmth emitting from his body. you love that you can sit next to your best friend first thing in the morning, especially in the winter.Â
your professor walks in, and you both immediately focus on your work. mr. bae is no joke. chan makes small talk with you of course, as much as he possibly can without being scolded by your professor. heâs been caught too many times for him to be let off easy this time around.Â
class ends not too long after, meaning the two of you have to part ways for now. itâs okay though, you always hang out outside of school anyways.
you make your way to your locker to put away some things before your next class. you donât have much time, but luckily the class is in the same hall.Â
you open the locker and put away your things, but something catches your eye. a beautiful pink tulip, placed nicely on top of a white envelope. thereâs a cute heart on the wax seal, and youâre careful not to rip the envelope while you open it.
you begin to read the letter, a pink hue spreading across your cheeks as you process the words. your heart flutters in your chest, knowing that someone thinks about you in this way.
you donât think your smile is all that special, but this person definitely thinks otherwise. you quickly put away the envelope, reminding yourself to dry press the tulip later.Â
all of a sudden, youâre smacked out of your thoughts. you run towards the hall. youâre definitely going to be late.
-
you arrive at chans with the ingredients, waiting for changbin to get back. youâre cooking his favorite today, so youâre very excited to see his reaction.
the tulip that your admirer gave you is pressed in between a stack of books, you plan on air drying and preserving it later.Â
âwho gave the flower?â, he asks with a smirk.
âoh⊠no oneâ, you reply shyly.
he continues to wiggle his eyebrows at you, causing you to shove him playfully.Â
you and chan continue talking about some studies, when you hear changbin come in.
âchan?â
he stands in the doorway for a second, inhaling for a little while. he rushes to the kitchen when he smells it. âwhat is all this?â
âwe decided to make your favorite tonight, help yourself. weâll bring the danmuji out in a secondâ, you tell him.
he smiles so wide it almost reaches his eyes. âooohhhh thank you thank you thank you! you did all this for meeeee?â, he says excitedly.
âit was all chans idea, thank himâ, you chuckle.
changbin jerks his head towards chan, a cute pout on his face. âyou did this for me channieee?â
chan stares at him for a little while before rolling his eyes. âno. why would i do it for you? shut up and eat now.â
you both knew it was all an act. as much as chan tried to pretend he hated changbin, you knew that it was just brotherly love.
âthanks chanâ, he says with a smile.
chan canât help but smile back.
-
you open your locker the next week to a black tulip, your heart sinking to your stomach.
you pick up the note, reading it quickly before you go to class.Â
âdonât worry, nothings wrong. i just gave you a black tulip this time since i always see you wearing black clothes. i assumed itâs your favorite color.â, it read.
the note went on with the usual, except this time it was about your nose. you giggled to yourself, the words lingering in your mind for far too long. your heart flutters in your chest thinking about who could possibly be writing these.
you run to class, afraid youâll be late. you lost track of time reading the note, but you donât regret it. not one bit.
you hope heâll reveal himself soon.
-
âmmhhh nooâŠâ, you whine.
chan giggles a little, pulling you closer into his embrace for a second. âi really need to go to the bathroom y/nâŠâ
âyouâre warm thoughâŠâ
chan takes your hand in yours, âiâll only be a minute. besides, you have the blanket.â
you nod, watching him go and sitting in the spot on the couch where he previously sat. the seat was warm still, almost enough to pull you into a slumber.
chan quickly locks himself in the bathroom, his heart beating almost a thousand times a second. why did he do that? why did he hold your hand⊠oh gosh. his entire face is red, he tries to wash it away. it doesnât work.
maybe itâs his fault for sitting so close to you in the first place, but he canât deny that he enjoyed it. he wants to be in your embrace forever.Â
-
âgosh⊠this is beautiful.â, you whisper to yourself. the note contained a little poem about your eyes this time. you didnât think they had much effect on anyone.
you pick up the red tulip, admiring it for a moment before placing it back in your locker inbetween some tissues and a stack of book. you enjoyed pressing them.
that way, if you were to ever find your secret admirer, you could keep the memories of your feelings.
wait⊠feelings? do you like this guy? you donât even know what he looks like! maybe theyâre just⊠shy?
you never thought for once that a man would be too shy to see someone like you of all people. youâre not really all that special in your opinion, but surely there was more to you that this guy sees.
maybe you could go searching for himâŠ
-
âyou really like pressing those damn tulips.â
you chuckle nervously, âyeah⊠theyâre really prettyâ
chan is surprised you havenât told him anything yet, but he makes sure not to push you. he doesnât want to let anything slip.
chan sits back down on your bed, admiring you for a bit while you talk about some things that happen at school.
âand sheâs been- she⊠why are you looking at me like that?â, you ask. the look on his face has you tripping on your words, oddly flustered.
âhuh? o-oh⊠um.â, he stutters, afraid heâs made things awkward. he tries to think of an excuse quickly, âyou still have a little sauce on your cheek.â
embarrassed, you wipe a bit at your cheek, trying to wipe the sauce that wasnât even there in the first place. suddenly, chan speaks up. âiâll get it.â
he scoots incredibly close to you, stroking your cheek and âwiping away the sauceâ. your eyes widen, cheeks turning a bright red.
chan seems to notice, smirking at you again and wiggling his eyebrows. you scoff playfully, flicking his forehead causing him to recoil.
âheyyy! what was that forâ, he says with a fake pout. you can only giggle at his antics, running a thumb over his forehead to ease the pain.Â
you continued going on about the girl in your class, ignoring the way chans close proximity made you feel.
-
âwhat the hell?â
the note came with a baby blue tulip this time, writing about how your voice makes his day. âso he knows meâŠâ, you think to yourself.
maybe you two share a class or two. either way, youâre determined to find out. this time, you write a note in your locker for him to read the next week.Â
itâs a simple note, not as cute as his are. the only thing it asks is if you two share a class.
you hope he notices it next time, itâd be a shame if he didnât. you place the note in your locker and quickly run back to class.
now that you think of it, he must have a class in the same hall as you since he always gets to your locker in the morning. maybe heâs in your first class.Â
wait. why are you so eager to know? gosh, how are you falling for someone when you donât even know who they are?Â
-
âoh come onnn, please?â
âjeez, why do you wanna know so bad?â
âbecauseee⊠you seem so happy when you get these flowers. do you finally have a boyfriend?â
you shoot him a look, shutting him up immediately. âwhat do you mean, âfinallyâ? iâve had many boyfriends beforeâ, you say while shaking your head.Â
chan laughs beside you, causing you to laugh a little bit too. âwell, the truth is, i donât know who these flowers are coming from. someone puts them in my locker every monday with a love letterâŠâ
chan looks at you, wide eyed. he fakes his surprise, âwait⊠you have a secret admirer?!â, he giggles.
âyeah⊠i guess i doâ, you smile.
you turn your head to look at him again, his boba eyes staring right at yours. you canât help but think back to what the note about your eyes said. does chan see them the same way? do you⊠want him to see them the same way?
chan pulls you into an embrace when he sees the look in your eye. âwell, hopefully he reveals himself soonâ
your face is painted with a light blush again. how could you possibly be falling for two men at once?
why do feelings have to be so confusing�
-
the weeks go by, different tulips and notes arriving in your locker every week. youâve confirmed that youâre both in first period together, but that seems like the only clue youâre getting for a while.
each day, you press the flowers and place them in your special frame next to the decorative box, in which you place the letters.
your frame is just a blob of colors now, the ivory, purple, and crimson tulips popping out the most.
youâve been meeting with chan a lot more recently for movie nights. youâll have to admit, theyâre really fun, but youâre finding it difficult to evaluate your feelings.
youâve started to develop stronger feelings for chan, as well as your admirer. your heart is torn between the two. you donât know who to choose. you dont even know if you can begin to choose.
how could you break their hearts?
-
you wake up early in the morning, surprised because you normally canât seem to bring yourself to open your eyes. you nuzzle closer into the warm pillow, wondering why it feels so much better than usual.
âsleep well?â, chans voice revertibrates through your entire being. you pull your hands back, scooting away from him and looking up.
âwait⊠i- what the hell?â
âhey itâs not my fault! you were incredibly drunk, and you insisted i stay.â
âohâŠâ
âoh channie⊠please stay! i canât sleep without you⊠youâre so warmâ, he mocks you and laughs.
your eyes go wide, a hand clamped over your mouth in shock.
âi actually said thatâŠ?â, you hide your face in your hands.Â
âno biggieâ, he smiles.
you bury your face in your palms, embarrassed. youâre glad you didnât let anything else slip out though. chan pulls you back into his embrace, drawing patterns on your back and laughing a little.Â
âhey, seriously. itâs fine, i donât mind keeping you company you know. your channie will always be hereâ, he giggles.
âshut. up.â, you reply, your voice muffled in his chest.Â
you hear the door open, quickly jerking your head towards it. âyou lovebirds done? i brought breakfastâ, yeji smiles.
âyejiiiâ you whine, hiding your face again. chan gets out of bed, laughing again as he gets ready for the day.
-
âfuckâŠâ, you mutter under your breath. itâll be much easier to confess to chan right? you can confront him face to face, but with your admirer itâd be more difficult.
what if theyâre just joking around? if you confess, the tulips will stop. youâll have no more notes to keep in your box. but then again, if you do confess, thereâs a high chance of the both of you ending up together.
thereâs no way chan likes you, but you really need to get it off your chest. you canât pursue your admirer while still having feelings for chan, thatâs not fair to him.
if chan is so excited about this admirer, thereâs no way he could actually like you⊠right? fuck it.
you run over to chans dorm, changbin opens the door for you. ây/n? chans not home right now, sorry.â
âyeah i know⊠i was um- i was meaning to talk to you actually.â
âoh! come inâ, he says with a smile.
you explain the whole thing in depth to changbin, even your feelings for the two boys. changbin laughs to himself, âwhat has he gotten himself into?â, he thinks.
changbin doesnât even seem to notice that tears are leaving your eyes. he quickly grabs your hand, running his thumb over it. âhey, iâm sure nothing bad will happen if you confess to chan. he loves you too much to let you go just because of a crush.â
âno but thatâs the thing changbin! itâs not just a crush- i love him. i love the both of them. and i donât know who to choose, or how to tell them, because itâs not fair to date one without telling the other andâŠâ, you trail off.
âjust tell chan you love him. and if you really want to win him over, tell him while youâre cooking or baking together or something.â
âwhat? why?â
âjust do it, trust me.â
you nod, continuing to plan out your confession with changbin. you figure out how youâre going to confess, you hope chan will enjoy having his favorite dish.
âi should tell yeji about this too, sheâll probably have some advice.â
changbin goes silent, thinking about what else you could do. you notice the way his face goes red at the mention of your roommate.
hopefully heâll confess too.
-
âi brought everything⊠whatâs the occasion though?â
âyouâll seeâ, you say with a smile.Â
you both make your way to the kitchen, smiling along the way. of course your nervous, but itâs a lot easier when you have his reassuring smile.
it seems to be something that always puts you at ease, itâs one of the reasons you love him so much. you feel so safe with him.Â
you guys work on dinner, smiling and giggling the entire time. âthat damn coral tulip really put you in a good mood hm?â
you chuckle a little, âhm, yeahâ, you beam at him. hold on⊠did you tell him about the coral tulip? âwait⊠how do you know about the tulipâ
âhuh?â, chan seems to be confused, but then his eyes go wide. he realizes his mistake immediately, but he doesnât know what to do.
âchan⊠i never told you anything about the tulip. how did you know what color it was?â
he opens his mouth to say something, but it wonât come out. âiâŠâ, the lump in his throat rises more, cutting off his air flow. heâs seconds away from hyperventilating.
âchannie, was it you the entire time?â
tears well up in his eyes, he didnât want it to happen like this. he planned a whole reveal for you, and now it was all ruined.
you quickly turn off the stove, walking over to chan. youâre being careful not to scare him away, a smile on your face. âitâs you isnât it?â
he nods softly, some tears escaping his eyes. âiâm sorryâŠâ
you cup his cheek with your hand, wiping away the tears on his cheek. âcan iâŠ?â
he nods, and you crash your lips into his. âi love you channieâ, you say breathlessly. he grabs your waist, picking you up and setting you down on the island. he pulls away from the kiss and looks you in the eyes.Â
âi love you so much y/n. iâm so sorry i didnât tell you i was just⊠scared of ruining our friendship.â
âchan⊠i um. i didnât- i donât want you to think i kissed you just because of the letters. i was planning on confessing to you today but that just made it so much betterâ
chans eyes twinkled in the light, stunned by the sincerity in your voice. ây/n⊠i truly do love you a lot. i- thank you.â
you give him a quick peck on the nose, wiping away his tears again.
âso, you were making all this so you could um⊠confess?â
you nod shyly, averting his gaze. he giggles at how adorable you look right now, sitting on the kitchen island.
âwhatâs so funny chan?â
he picks you up once again, this time pinning you against the wall. your heart flutters again in your chest, the butterflies erupting in your stomach.
âno. not chan⊠iâm your channieâ, he smiles at you, leaning in for another kiss. you enjoy the moment with him, but all of a sudden you stop.
âchan! we still have to make the foodâ
he looks at you, sets you down on the floor and then turns away from you. youâre a little confused by the sudden change in attitude, but then it hits you.Â
âsorry dork, i meant channieâ
he smiles at you again, helping you fix dinner.
âwow⊠first dinner with my girlfriend and we even cooked it together.â, your eyes widened. you were going to have to get used to chan calling you his girlfriend.
-
âwake the fuck up you two!â, yeji yells from her room.
youâre in the same position as last time, you face nuzzled into chans chest and your arms are wrapped around him. heâs holding you this time, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and stroking his fingers through your hair.Â
suddenly, yeji barges in to see you two practically looking like a pretzel. âoh my goshâŠâ
chan continues running his fingers through your hair, not paying attention to yeji at all. âwait⊠really?!â, yeji says excitedly.
it seems like shes finally gotten the hint, and you reach up to give chan a little peck. you smile at yeji, watching her visibly gag. âyou know, you couldnât just said âoh yeah weâre dating now!â. you didnât have to kiss him. grossâŠâ
chan laughs a little, the sound being music to your ears. âhey, itâs not my faultâ
âyeah yeah whatever. get ready, weâre going out with changbin.â
you turn your head towards yeji again. âchangbin? why so?â
chan lifts his head from the pillow. âare you finally dating now?â, he asks excitedly.
âew no⊠grossâ, yeji says while rushing out the room, not wanting you to see the crimson red covering her face.
-
you open your locker, instantly met with a much bigger envelope. you quickly open it to read it, smiling to yourself as you do. youâre so glad that chan did all this.
you searched your locker again, looking at the floor to see if the tulip fell, but you couldnât find one. you pouted a little, the tulips seem to be something you cherish a lot. just then, you hear chans voice behind you.
in his hand is a bouquet, all different assortments of tulips. he doesnât say anything, he just gives you a kiss and heads off to his next class.Â
you stare at him as he leaves, completely in awe. tears almost spring to your eyes, but you fight them off. quickly placing your bouquet in your locker, you run to your next class.
you make it there just on time, but before taking out your notebook, you grab your phone.
y/n: thank you channie :)
channie <3: i hope you liked them :)
y/n: of course i did!
y/n: i love you channie <3
channie <3: i loved you first <3
<3
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super shy
summary: he's been receiving these letters for the past year but, he doesn't know your name, does he?
w.c: 7.1k.
tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.
a.n: this is the longest fic i ever written omg, i've been playing new jeans latest comeback for a few days and this is the result lol. as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. leave your thoughts if you liked it, means a lot!



It was there again.
Sitting immaculately on top of his messy folders, the envelope was white without any type of decoration, the owner of the cursive handwriting wouldn't even risk placing a sticker since it could give a clue, even minimal, about who was behind it.
The classroom was almost empty, since recess ended a few minutes ago and the students were still lazily getting up from the grass where they were lying, not wanting to lock themselves in a room again for hours while the day was shining beautifully outside the building.
However, Chan looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned his classmates for the smallest trace of uneasiness as he took the envelope in his hands. But he didn't find any, unless the author had a master's degree in poker face no one around him seemed interested in what he was doing.
After the failed scrutiny, he sat down again with no care on the wooden bench, eager to read what that person had to say today. This excited feeling was new for him, the letters had been arriving about a year ago, right at the beginning of the new semester and at first, Chan found it funny. Surely one of his friends (he bet his life on either Seungmin or Minho, those two were always up to something no matter how much they said they weren't) found it fun to piss him off this year, after all, it has been a long time since his last relationship and sometimes he felt the need of affection, so the "joke" made perfect sense in his head.
He didn't read them the first few months, he just crumpled them up and kept them in a hidden place in his backpack, to let whoever was behind them know that he wasn't interested. But they kept coming even after that vile act against someone's real feelings; and that was when Chan began to question if there really was a person genuinely interested in him, interested enough to send him handwritten letters as if they were living in a classic romance novel. The person had a beautiful vocabulary, and it was clear that they paid attention to details that he didn't even noticed about himself.
The notes weren't very long since they didn't exceed ten lines, but each word was full of admiration and affection. They always reminded him to eat and take care of his health, in addition to telling him day by day one of the qualities why his mysterious person had fallen in love with him. Chan blushed every time he read those reasons, it was no secret (to himself, since he didn't like others to know) that he didn't think very highly of himself; from his point of view there was nothing nice or admirable about his existence. But this person believed just the opposite, and they had made their life's mission to let him know that every day.
Today was no exception, the lined sheets were a pastel color (pink? orange?) and had small animal decorations at the bottom and top (he noticed that these came in "groups", the representative animal of these last ten notes was a smiling giraffe). It was incredibly adorable, and Chan found himself laughing softly every time he took out the contents of the envelope.
'Mondays are always hard! Especially this time of year (can't the teachers trust in me and my knowledge of things? I don't see the need for them to take a test).
Anyway, Channie, this weekend I found myself thinking a lot about you, every time I start writing my reasons I feel like I'm going to be left speechless but then I remember that it's not difficult at all to love you. So here is another one:
Your resilience, I greatly admire your ability to always get up no matter how many blows life throws at you. The vast majority of us feel discouraged by the slightest inconvenience, but not you. And that is something incredible.
I hope you have a beautiful start to the week, remember to eat your meals and feel the sun.
Fondly,'
And that's how all the letters ended, the author seemed to hesitate every time they traced the last line, he could feel the uncertainty even on the paper. Chan knew that they were shy and always wondered when they were going to stop being to finally sign with their name and be able to meet that person who stole his heart with every word.
âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ
He was reading the note, hunched over his things, almost shielding the contents of the paper from the prying eyes of anyone who passed by him. You knew he was going to do it (he always did) but you couldn't stop your heart from racing like it was the first time it happened. You watched him from the hallway, hiding behind one of your textbooks while a silly smile appeared on your face, nothing made you happier than making him happy with your words, it's true what people say about "butterflies in the stomach" because that was what you were feeling right now.
His eyes crinkled in the most adorable way possible every time he smiled and from your spot in the hallway you could almost hear the sigh he let out after finishing reading the letter. After scanning his surroundings one last time, Chan placed the paper back into the envelope, and carefully placed it inside his notebook.
"You with your Shakespeare complex again" The sudden voice of your best friend so close made you jump in your place and drop the book you had in your hands. It hit the ground with a dull sound due to the thickness of its contents, and when you picked up the book again you turned around to face the figure of the perpetrator. He just laughed at you and your reaction, which earned him a closed-fist blow directly to his shoulder.
"You deserve it" You didn't even bother to return his reproachful gaze since he clearly felt like fighting, and instead, you returned your focus to Chan's classroom and his figure. He was no longer in his seat and you didn't want to look weird by leaning out the window door to look for him. So you sighed heavily and leaned your body against the wall while closing your eyes.
Until you felt Jeongin's presence come to your side "Are you going to tell him sometime?"
You didn't answer him.
Well, actually you did, with a growl that could mean either 'I'll do it today, stop bothering' or 'not even dead'. However, the blonde wasn't satisfied with your interpretation of an animal as a response and he began poking your ribs with his long fingers, drawing high-pitched sounds of protest from your lips.
"Stop it, Innie" You moved his hands away from your figure and stood firmly looking him in the eyes like a mother who is trying to discipline her misbehaving son. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile crossing his face with foxlike features and, with a movement of his head, he invited you to speak.
"What do you want me to say? 'Hello Chan! It's me, the person who has been sending you letters like a fifteen-year-old for a year now. I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you at my best friend's house. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" You rolled your eyes tiredly and didn't wait for Jeongin to tell you what he thought, and so you started walking towards your classroom, with an exasperated five foot seven boy following closely behind you.
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You still remembered the first time you'd seen him, and how could you not. His presence could illuminate even the darkest corner, and his personality attracted anyone around him.
It was the summer, and you'd hone to Jeongin's house to spend an afternoon together. The air conditioning in your apartment had broken two days ago, and you couldn't stand being in your room for another second, which was already beginning to feel like an industrial oven. When you arrived at your best friend's residence, you weren't surprised by the fact that there were more people than just the two of you. Jeongin was studying singing at a nearby school and had hit it off with some of his classmates; so while you didn't know them as well as he did, you had the chance to hang out with some of them a couple of times and you could say that they were the funniest guys you'd ever come across. Especially Hyunjin, who seemed to be like a glove with your best friend.
Jeongin's house felt cold, as if winter had come only for the Yang family and, although you shivered with every step you took towards the kitchen where voices could be heard, this felt like paradise compared to the hell you lived in your house (and you even thought it was cooler in hell).
Reaching the kitchen, you heard Hyunjin's melodious voice followed by his nasal, boisterous laughter at a comment Jeongin made. You shook your head laughing inwardly as you pushed the wooden door open to enter the space, the boys turning their heads in your direction as they heard the hinges snapping back into place.
Your best friend gave you his characteristic smile as he got up from his seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island to give you a small hug "I thought you weren't coming anymore!"
From Jeongin's shoulder you saw how Hyunjin gave you a smile and a wave, you tried to return the gesture as best you could considering that you were trapped in the arms of a boy who flatly stated that he didn't like hugs. It was getting long in your opinion, so you patted Jeongin on the back, letting him know that yes, you loved him very much, but you were still sticky with sweat from the walk in the sun and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was so cool. When Jeongin let go of you, he opened his palm to introduce you to a person you hadn't seen before, "I hope you don't mind, that's Chan over there. He also goes to singing school, and he goes to university with us! Although he is a year ahead"
You smiled at Jeongin as you walked further into the kitchen to greet the new guest and in front of you stood one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen in your entire life. He wasn't very tall (you could tell even if he was sitting) but his broad shoulders gave him an intimidating presence, his hair looked messy in a swirl of brown curls, and although he was dressed from head to toe in black (you were sure his nails were painted that color too) on his face was a dimpled smile that took your breath away.
From one moment to the next you forgot how to articulate words and you felt like a fish opening and closing its mouth trying to find something to say, but your brain didn't seem to want to work.
You felt a small push on your right shoulder that took your body forward, towards the table, and towards Chan.
"How rude you are" Jeongin rolled his eyes, and although deep down you knew he was doing it to tease you, your cheeks turned red. You felt your tongue heavy in your mouth as the seconds passed and you were unable to utter a single word.
"Leave her alone, Innie. It's pretty hot outside, isn't it?" Chan's deep voice brought you out of your trance and forced you to look him in the eyes. He had a sincere smile on his face and was watching you with raised eyebrows, letting you know that he was going to listen to you when you wanted to respond.
Your heart did a complete turn in your chest, you were surprised in the best of ways at how friendly he was, the vast majority of boys with his attractiveness made that their only personality trait but he was attentive and considerate of all the people around him, even with complete strangers who hadn't stopped looking or saying anything to him in three minutes.
"Yes...yes, it's horrible! And the air conditioning in my house is broken and you can't imagine how hot it is! I feel like I'm going to die one of these days" The words came tumbling out of your mouth, since you hadn't had the time to stop and think about what exactly you wanted to say, and your nerves were playing the worst trick of your entire life.
Chan laughed again (even his laugh was pretty) and he nodded his head, not at all scared or surprised with the lexical vomit you just made.
"It must be like torture, really. You must be tired from the walk under the sun, why don't you sit down for a bit? The boys and I were planning to watch a movie" The brunette softly kicked one of the stools that were stored under the table in your direction.
You nodded shyly and took the seat he offered you, right in front of him. You left your phone on the cold marble of the table and looked around the kitchen for your best friend, you'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't gotten into the conversation for five minutes and to be honest you desperately needed to focus on something other than Chan's penetrating gaze you felt on your face.
"Innie?" You called out to him with a small shout, loud enough for him to hear you even if he'd gone into the garden.
After a few seconds, your friend's blonde head peeked out of the left door that led to the living room, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry! Since you two were talking, we decided to go prepare things for the movie."
Jeongin paused and looked at you evilly, a look that you knew very well and that didn't give you a good feeling at all "Chan, why don't you prepare something to eat? I bought some snacks today, come when you have everything ready~" And before you could protest, he disappeared from your sight again while laughing and yelling something at Hyunjin.
You immediately tensed up and cursed Jeongin in your mind, how dare he leave you alone with your newfound crush. If he was getting revenge for the time you tried to play matchmaker and failed then he was being very childish, that'd been years ago!
While the insulting thoughts against your best friend and all his ancestors accumulated in your brain, from the corner of your eye you watched as Chan got up from his seat and went to the counter where the mentioned snacks and bowls of colors were located, apparently the prankster you called your best friend had already prepared the trap before you even arrived.
You didn't want to look weirder than you already felt so with your limbs shaking and making even the slightest of movements difficult; you also got up from your seat and slowly approached where Chan was, you stood next to him (close enough for him to know that you were willing to help but far enough not to invade his personal space).
He looked at you briefly and smiled sideways, and didn't say anything as he gently pushed a bowl towards you. The task wasn't very complicated per se, but it did become extremely difficult when the only thing you could focus on were the large, veiny hands of the boy next to you, you hadn't realized how attractive it was to see a man opening packets of potato chips and arranging them in a small container until now.
"Jeongin said we go to the same university, do you study the same as him?" You were startled by the sudden interruption of silence, you turned to look at Chan after finishing preparing the bowl with the nachos.
"Yes, I mean, no. We share some classes because some subjects are correlative in each one's career but I could never do the same as Innie" You smiled shyly and shook your head.
"I study psychology," You finally said and looked at your companion, who had his eyes open and bright like a puppy's (how could it be possible for a person to be incredibly attractive and adorable at the same time? It would have to be illegal), and you wondered what it was that'd amazed him so much, there were millions of other people studying the same thing as you.
Without meaning to, you raised an eyebrow; studying his reaction. He laughed again (it was something he loved to do, apparently) and turned his entire body towards you, resting his left hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.
"That's incredible, the human mind is fascinating. I understand why you study that, for my part, I wouldn't read everything you have to read even if someone paid me."
You laughed loudly, infecting Chan as well. He was doing so with his whole body, his shoulders were shaking to the rhythm of his giggles and you could notice that, from time to time, a small squeak would appear in the sound of his laughter.
When the laughter died down, you looked at him again as you put the last bag of snacks in the cupboard in front of you.
"Yes, I mean, it's a lot to read but it's like you say. I'm interested in knowing the reason for behavior, and I would like to help people in the future. Mental health is something important" This last part came out in a whisper, you weren't used to revealing the reason for your career choice, most people told you that you should have chosen something that would make you rich in twenty years.
"That's incredible, I admire you a lot" Chan said in a soft voice, and you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until you noticed the small touch of his fingers on your arm, the color quickly rose to your cheeks again and panic took over you, making you choke up when you spoke.
"Y-yes, thank you... not many think that way" And you moved your body away from his space; maybe a little abruptly but you were sure that if you continued in that position you were going to do or say something ridiculous, you couldn't trust your ability to reason at the moment.
Chan cleared his throat at your reaction and took two bowls in his hands, starting to walk towards the living room. You hadn't realized how loudly the other two boys were talking, were you so immersed in the situation to forget the outside world? Apparently yes.
"Are you done yet? The boys must be waiting" He stopped right in front of the door, waiting for you to take what you'd prepared.
You nodded softly, and after grabbing your preparations, you followed him into the living room.
You don't really remember what happened after that, you assume you watched the movies that the boys had already chosen before you arrived. You also don't remember if you had even paid attention, probably not, because you were very focused on keeping your breathing as normal as you could since unfortunately Hyunjin and Jeongin decided to each sit in an individual chair and by coincidence the only place left to sit was in the two-seat chair that your best friend's grandmother had given to his mother at her wedding, and conveniently Chan sat there too. So as the movie played on the screen, your heart raced with every accidental brush of your arms or legs against Chan's.
The only thing you remember clearly from that moment is that you couldn't help but look at his profile, trying to memorize every detail and every peculiarity of his expressions.
The rest of the summer felt like a haze, every time you made plans with Jeongin you knew Chan was going to be there. And that did nothing to dispel the feelings that were beginning to become more present with every minute you spent in his presence.
You liked him a little too much.
His kind nature and the way he treated everyone made you dizzy every time, but you were too shy to act on your feelings and unfortunately you weren't the only one who thought Chan was a good catch. Every now and then different girls approached him to ask him out, and although he always rejected them; you couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the situation. And there was also the small problem that he confessed to you one night in Hyunjin's garden: his last relationship had been somewhat toxic, and although it ended years ago, he was deeply hurt and didn't feel ready yet to fall for someone again.
That confession left a sour taste in your mouth, so you decided not to actively act on your feelings, you really didn't want to make Chan uncomfortable or force him into something he didn't want to do, let alone ruin the friendship you were building. But something as strong as love cannot be contained, and one sleepless night you found yourself scribbling in your notebook the things you wanted to say to him, the things you liked about him, and how he made you feel when you looked at him.
You weren't thinking when you left the first envelope on his desk, it was a completely impulsive decision that you regretted the moment you left his classroom. But when you turned around to go back and throw the letter into the trash, he already found it.
At first he didn't read them, you knew because you'd overheard when he mentioned it to Hyunjin during an outing the three of you made, Chan believed that one of his friends was playing a prank on him.
And that was the last straw that broke the camel's back, although you told yourself that you weren't going to write anymore letters for the sake of your friendship and your own feelings you had to let him know (even if anonymously) that he was someone worthy of love and that he wasn't what the people in his past made him believe he was.
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Once you arrived at the classroom (miraculously before the professor, you didn't think you could endure another lecture and there were still three more hours before leaving the university) you sat down in your respective seat by the window. The day was really beautiful, and from your place you could see the large patio where the entire student body went to relax between classes, it was your favorite place in the entire building and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be leaning against a tree feeling the warm sunlight on your face.
"I'm not saying you have to tell him that but don't you think it's been too long already?" Jeongin didn't seem to want to drop the topic for today, he'd gotten up from his seat taking advantage of the fact that there was still no sign of the teacher and sat at your table, almost knocking all the things that were on top of it to the floor. You rested your head on the bench and waved a hand in the air, brushing it off in an attempt to say 'leave me alone already'.
Your best friend snorted exasperatedly, "You really are a special case, you've been in love with him for a year, for God's sake."
At the boy's aggressive tone of voice, you took your head off the table and looked at him with a frown. He looked back at you like he always did: challenging and forcing you to speak for yourself.
"It's not as easy as you say, Jeongin" You spat angrily.
"For all I know, if he finds out, he could throw my stupid letters in the trash and confessing would not only make me look weird but it would also ruin the friendship we have" You lowered your face, feeling a little sad "And the last thing I would like to do is lose him"
Jeonginâs expression softened as he realized the depth of your anxiety, and he reached out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I get it, I really do. You don't want to jeopardize what you have but you deserve happiness too, you know? Maybe it's time to take a risk."
âI donât even think I have a chanceâ You sighed, feeling defeated.
Jeongin moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You may have more possibilities than you think, but sometimes you have to give destiny a little push."
You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words and just as you were about to question him further, the professor made an appearance in the classroom ordering everyone to take their respective seats and apologizing for the delay. Your best friend flashed you a bright smile with his trademark dimples and snuck over to his table, effectively ending the conversation and leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.
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If Jeongin's plan was for you to not sleep for a week, then he'd achieved it. His words had been spinning through your head like a whirlpool that seemed to have no end. You knew that he'd been friends with the brunette for a longer time than you, but were they close enough that the youngest knew the secrets inside Chan's heart?
Or was he giving you the advice that all friends gave to their other friends desperate to believe in the illusion that the person they like reciprocates their feelings? No, Jeongin wouldn't do that, he was too honest for his own good and besides you'd known each other longer (your mothers said you were born to be friends). So did that mean there really was a chance?
No, of course not, that was ridiculous.
You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts as you rang the doorbell at Hyunjin's house. Your group had agreed to meet to study and you needed to have a clear mind, the exams were around the corner and you couldn't afford to keep your brain preoccupied thinking about something that would never happen.
The minutes passed slowly as you waited for the homeowner, and while you were thinking about ringing the doorbell again fearing that the boys inside hadn't heard you, the door suddenly opened, and nothing could have prepared you to see the person who has been living rent free in your mind, you knew he would be there, but you didn't expect to face him so quickly.
"Hey, you arrived just in time, Hyunjin's mom just brought us some drinks" Chan was his usual self, with his beautiful smile plastered on his face and his relaxed attitude.
You blinked once, twice, three times before you managed a small forced smile and responded, "Oh, great, thanks," and you stood there in silence, unable to look him in the eyes.
Chan tilted his head in silent question at your attitude, "Is everything okay?"
His concern for your well-being was evident in his voice and he struck a chord in your heart. You looked at him briefly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment and nodded, still struggling to find your voice.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â You finally responded, trying to sound casual despite the jumble of emotions inside you.
Chan's friendly demeanor never wavered as he led you into the house, you followed him with a notable distance between your bodies and so when you arrived at the living room where the boys were already seated with open textbooks and a monstrous amount of things to eat you almost ran to sit next to Jeongin, an attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, who looked at you with his eyebrows raised in a telepathic question.
Meanwhile, Chan didn't take his eyes off you as he sat next to Hyunjin on the couch in front of where you and your best friend were.
The afternoon went by slowly, too slowly for your liking, you'd gone with all the desire to study and get your mind out of the anxiety that was consuming you, but that attempt had been futile.
Although your gaze remained glued to your notes and your blue highlighter (which hadn't highlighted anything in the last hour, you'd read the same paragraph five times without getting a clue of what it was trying to say) you felt how two eyes were burning holes in your figure. The room was suffocatingly silent, and you were sure that your irregular breathing was evident to the entire group; your nerves were so on edge that when your best friend's voice filled the void you almost jumped in your place.
"I'm tired, how about we take a break?"Jeongin raised his arms towards the ceiling, stretching his back and then collapsing gracelessly against the soft cushions of the sofa.
Hyunjin nodded while massaging his neck, stiff after so many hours of looking down at his notes and reading "I thought no one was going to say it, I was going crazy."
Chan didn't say anything, he just closed his notebooks and imitated Jeongin in his relaxed pose against the couch. You felt out of place when the boys started chatting about meaningless things to lighten the atmosphere.
You only nodded when you felt your input was necessary, or laughed when you thought that was the reaction you should have but you didn't speak, because in fact, you weren't sure you were going to say anything coherent or at least make your voice louder than a whisper, so you decided that the best course of action was to stay quiet.
If the boys noticed it, they didn't say anything, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.
"You know" Chan interrupted the laughter of the other two boys after a not-so-funny story told by Hyunjin.
Everyone focused their attention on him, the tone of voice he'd used was more serious than his usual; so serious that it forced you to look up for the first time since the recess began and you found Chan's brown eyes looking directly at you, doing it so intensely that you thought he was staring right into your soul.
You held your breath, but you weren't prepared for what he said next.
"My secret admirer hasn't written to me in a few days" He was still looking at you, but there was something strange hidden in his irises, something you couldn't decipher.
Silence once again took over Hyunjin's living room, and the tension could be cut with a knife, it almost seemed like time had stopped when the brunette pronounced the last syllable. Your mouth felt dry, and your palms began to sweat. The weight of his words floated in the air and a thousand thoughts passed through your mind, each one more disconcerting than the last.
Hyunjin snorted, and looked maliciously at Chan "Maybe they are tired of you."
His mocking comment broke the heavy silence like thunder. Jeongin joined in with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to tease Chan mercilessly. âMaybe your secret admirer found someone else,â he joked, his tone light and teasing, âOr maybe they are just playing hard to get.â
Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanting to burst while the boys laughed at Chan's expense while he, in response, rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically at the jokes that his friends kept saying, he also looked at you from time to time making your discomfort even more evident.
You desperately searched for words to contribute to the conversation, your voice choked by the rising anxiety. But as Jeongin and Hyunjin's playful teasing continued, you remained silent, feeling like a bystander in a conversation that was becoming more cryptic by the second. Chan's gaze never left you, and despite the teasing, there was something in his eyes that betrayed a deeper understanding. His comment felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, yet you couldn't put your finger on what he truly knew.
As the laughter subsided, the room descended into an awkward silence once more, and then Chan finally spoke up, his tone more subdued than before. "Well, whoever it is," he began, his eyes still locked on yours, "I hope they know they've brightened my days with their letters."
The comment hung in the air, carrying a weight that seemed to pull everyone into its gravity. Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged glances, their playful demeanor suddenly giving way to something more conspiracy.
You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The anxiety that'd been building throughout the day reached a crescendo. You wanted to say something, to respond in some way, but the words caught in your throat.
Hyunjin broke the silence once more, this time with a touch of sincerity in his voice. "Whoever they are," he said, "they must really care about you, man." Jeongin nodded in agreement, and the room seemed to shift, it was a subtle transformation, but one that you couldn't help but notice.
Chan smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, "They do mean a lot to me."
You desperately needed a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions after that serious conversation, so you mumbled something about getting a drink from the kitchen, excusing yourself with a weak smile and slowly, you retreated from the living room, the voices of the boys fading as you put some distance between you and the group.
In the dimly lit kitchen, you leaned against the countertop, your heart still racing from the tension in the room. The realization that Chan cherished those anonymous letters hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd never imagined how much they meant to him.
Just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind you made you jump. You turned to find Chan standing there, a serious yet gentle expression on his face. His presence seemed to fill the room with warmth, and your anxiety ratcheted up another notch.
"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"
You nodded, unable to form words an he took a step closer, his gaze never left yours.
Chan's brown eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had frozen around you. You couldn't contain the thoughts racing through your mind any longer. With a trembling voice, you finally asked the question that'd been gnawing at you.
"Do you know who's been sending those letters?"
Chan's expression remained calm, but you could see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a hint of knowing. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between you.
His voice was soft as he replied, "I have a feeling I might have a clue."
Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his face for more hints. What did he mean by 'a clue'? It was clear he was being deliberately vague, and it only added to your curiosity.
"But," he continued, "I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me, do you know who it is?"
You hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. The walls between you and Chan seemed to dissolve, and the vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in your own. With a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice quivering with fear and anticipation.
"It's me."
The admission hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the floor as you waited for his reaction. The seconds felt like hours as you replayed all the letters, and the emotions you'd poured into them.
Chan's silence stretched, and the tension in the room became palpable. Your heart raced, and you feared the worst â rejection, awkwardness, or even laughter.
Then, he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. The warmth and kindness in his gaze melted away your fears.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "I've cherished every single one."
As tears welled up in your eyes, Chan reached out to gently wipe them away with his thumb. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as your emotions overwhelmed you. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you nestled into his embrace. He whispered soothing words, his voice a balm to your soul, reassuring you that everything would be okay.
After a moment of shared comfort, you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. "But how did you know it was me?" you finally asked, your voice still trembling.
Chan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and replied, "I had my suspicions, especially after some of the things you wrote. But what really gave it away was your handwriting."
You blinked in surprise.
Handwriting? You hadn't considered that, no, haven't even thought about it when you started this a year ago, and to be honest you felt a little dumb.
Chan continued, "I recognized your handwriting from a birthday card you gave me a while back. It was similar to the writing in the letters. And then, well, I saw you looking at me during our hangouts, and it all just started to make sense."
You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. It seemed like you'd left more clues than you thought. But instead of feeling exposed, you felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that he'd noticed your feelings all along.
With a shy smile, you said, "I guess I'm not very good at hiding my feelings, am I?"
Chan chuckled softly. "No, but that's okay. I'm glad you told me."
As you gazed into Chan's eyes, you noticed something change in his expression. The initial surprise and curiosity gave way to a more tender, understanding look. He cupped your face gently, his touch warm and reassuring.
"You know," he began softly, "I've always appreciated those letters. They made me feel special, like someone out there truly understood me. And I never wanted to pressure you into revealing yourself," Chan continued. "I wanted you to do it when you were ready."
"I was just afraid," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what you might think, of how it might change things between us."
Chan's thumb traced small circles on your cheek as he reassured you, "Don't be. This doesn't change how I feel about what we have. If anything, it makes it even more special."
A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but this time, it wasn't a tear of anxiety or fear. It was a tear of relief, of happiness. You leaned into Chan's touch, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours, and before you knew it, his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to melt away as your lips met his, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. His hands cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let you go.
The taste of his lips was sweet and comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's day, you could feel the steady beat of Chan's heart, matching the rhythm of your own. The world around you disappeared, and there was only the two of you.
And just as you were lost in that sweet moment, the kitchen door burst open, and in walked your friends, their playful banter filling the room while wearing grins so wide they threatened to split their faces. Jeongin couldn't help but tease you, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone finally got the courage to make a move!"
Hyunjin joined in with a mock-sympathetic tone. "And here we thought we'd have to wait another century for this to happen!"
You blushed furiously, pulling away from Chan who chuckled in amusement, still holding you close. "You guys have impeccable timing," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.
Jeongin winked at you, "Hey! We're just glad we won't have to hear you two mooning over each other anymore."
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cookies and cream âą bang chan
genre: stray kids bang chan fluff. husband/dad au. (bang chan x fem! reader)
synopsis: in which chan goes on a spontaneous ice cream date with his little family.
warnings: none.
wc: 900 words.
notes: another fic i wrote a while ago :"). so proud of skz's s-class promos!

âCan we get ice cream after this?â you hear your son softly ask your husband, tugging lightly on the hem of his T-shirt. Youâre out for dinner with your parents, and you can tell the kids are getting restless.Â
As your son and daughter look at Chan with a mixture of admiration and pleading, he looks over and makes eye contact with you. He raises an eyebrow, as if to silently ask, âIs it okay, babe?â You shrug and smile.Â
âYeah, we can after,â Chan replies, to the delighted squeals of your children. âAfter dinner though. Just wait a bit longer.â He shushes them, and they look at each other, eyes glowing at the prospect of ice cream after the long night.Â
After dinner is over, you say goodbye to your parents and Chan starts the car to drive you and your family to a nearby ice cream parlor.Â
âIce cream!â Your son squeals. Chan chuckles, his laugh full and deep.Â
âYeah, bud, I didnât forget,â Chan reassures him. The drive is short, and you arrive at the shop quickly.Â
The kids rush to the glass cases and admire the myriad of flavors: pink-tinted strawberries and cream, tan java chip, swirls of chocolate fudge in pure white vanilla.Â
âWhat are you gonna get?â You ask your husband softly as you stand in line, the kids deliberating with each other.Â
âGreen tea, probably,â He responds. You know green tea is his favorite. âWhat are you feeling like, darling?â  Â
âIâm not that hungry, actually,â you reply. âI was planning on just stealing some of yours.â He shoves you slightly when he hears that but nods in approval, like you knew he would.Â
âDad! Dad!â Your son says excitedly. âItâs our turn! Come on!âÂ
The worker smiles at your sonâs excitement, which doesnât go unnoticed by Chan. âSorry about him; heâs a bit excited,â Chan says with a laugh.Â
âUnderstandably,â the worker replies. âIâm always excited for ice cream too.â This makes the children laugh.Â
âAlright guys, what do you want?â Chan asks, looking down at the kids, who order their cones proudly.Â
âAnything else for you?â You hear the worker ask after handing the kids their cones. You donât hear your husbandâs response as you usher your kids to a nearby table.Â
âBe careful, guys,â you say. âDonât drop your ice cream.â You sit them down and grab some napkins before sitting with them. âHow is it?âÂ
âYummy!â âSo good!âÂ
âIâm glad,â you say, giggling. Their faces, smeared with ice cream, are so joyful, that you canât help smiling with them. You see Chan gazing over at you and the kids from the cashier as he pays, but miss the loving gaze in his eyes as he observes you.
He pulls a chair from the table next to yours and plops down with you.
âWhat did you get, Dad?â Your daughter asks as she licks her cotton candy-flavored ice cream cone, looking at the cup of ice cream Chan places on the table between you two. There are two spoons in a cup of ice cream that definitely isnât green tea flavored.Â
âCookies and cream,â He replies, taking one of the spoons and beginning to eat.Â
âYour favorite, right?â Your son says.Â
âNo, isnât Dadâs favorite green tea?â His sister asks.Â
âBut he always gets cookies and cream! He only gets green tea when he buys us ice cream without Mommy.âÂ
âCookies and cream is Mommyâs favorite,â Chan responds simply. He looks at you and pushes the cup closer. âEat, love.âÂ
âIf cookies and cream isnât your favorite, why do you always get it?â Your daughter asks incredulously.Â
âBecause Mommy likes cookies and cream,â Chan says. âAnd I like Mommy.â He turns back to you as you start to take small bites of the scoop.Â
âWhen Iâm older, I hope someone who really likes me always gets cotton candy ice cream, because thatâs my favorite, just like Dad always buys Mom her favorite!â Your daughter declares then.Â
âIâll buy you cotton candy ice cream!â Your son says, and you all laugh.Â
After you finish eating, you grab more napkins and leave the shop. Chan starts the car and you head home.
âWhat do you all say to Dad?â You ask before your family enters the house upon returning.Â
âThank you, Dad!â âThanks for the ice cream!âÂ
The children run into their rooms once you unlock the house and once youâre alone, you feel Chan wrap his arms around your waist in a tight back hug. You spin around to face him and he places his large, warm hands back on my hips.Â
âThank you for the ice cream, Chan,â you say, looking up at him. âThank you for this.âÂ
âIâm in love with you,â he responds suddenly. You must have reacted in shock, because Chan simply laughs before placing a soft kiss on your forehead and pulling you into a hug. He rests his chin on the top of your head. âIn love with you and the kids.â Â
You smile and rest your head on his shoulder, moving closer into his hug. He begins to rub your back and shoulders and you sigh, allowing yourself to relax in his protecting arms. Â
"Iâd do anything for our family, my love,â Chan says. And with that, you know just how in love he really is.
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â„of floral lace (m)
âł Wedding planning is a stressful enough job as it is, without the added trouble of a handsome best man who can't seem to take his attention off of you.
But when it comes to 'meant to be,' maybe he knows something that you just don't quite know yet.

best man!bang chan x wedding planner!fem!reader â strangers to lovers, meet-cute, unrequited (?) pining, explicit sexual content. [11,2k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, protected penetrative sex, Chan wants it bad-bad, a lot of teasing and wanting and flirtatious banter.
In February, the weather is still cold. Bitter and icy, some days. Windy, with occasional snow, and itâs days like this that make it feel as though the warmth of spring and summer may never come. Sometimes, itâs the small reminders that life â the world itself â is ever changing. Spring will always come, winter will always end.
Such is life, isnât it?
Walking up to the glass and platinum plated front doors of the expensive building, Chan muses the thoughts. Despite it not being for him â simply being an accomplice, of sorts â being involved in the wedding party tends to bring about the thoughts of ones own, personal love life. Life in general. Cycles of love and loss, all encompassing. A tall, white, building in a busy and upper class side of town â not where Chan is from, but where the bride-to-be was from. Completely foreign while simultaneously being familiar in proximity. Stepping forward and reaching for the door with his dominant hand, opening it for the couple and attempting to push his long, blonde hair out of his eyes with his other hand, the woman that his best friend would marry looks towards him kindly and chuckles â a comment about knowing the struggles of women with long hair versus the wind, and Chan smiles in response to her.
He likes her. Always had. Nothing romantic, but he was proud of the choice that his best friend of many years had made in a life partner. Chan often found himself hopeful that he, too, may one day make such a choice for himself.
The three enter the building as he continues the attempt of wrangling his hair â best friend in question, Lee Minho, laughing under his breath as to not disturb the quiet ambiance of the room they had just entered.
âAre you gonna cut it before the wedding?â he asks, lightly nudging Chan in the arm, and Chan looks at him in a slight state of shock, as if the thought had never even dawned on him for a second previously.
âShould I?â
âYou donât have to.â
Looking around, briefly at their surroundings: white furnishings, carpeting, walls â gold accenting mostly, with hints of forest green among the well-kept plants and coming together along the counter outline of the desk â he feels wholly out of place. It was much too expensive for him, and if he ever were to be planning a wedding in the future, it likely would not be here.
He brings himself back to the conversation, âdoes she want me to?â referring to the bride in question, and Minho only shakes his head. âNo, she doesnât mind.â
âIâll be with you in just a second!â
A womanâs voice calls from another room â back behind the desk they stand before. Beige envelopes and paperwork lightly strewn across it; itâs somewhat messy, but nothing completely unmanageable, and the phone begins to ring at that moment.
Chan hears the same voice that had just called to them curse lightly under itâs breath. He cracks a smile at the break in character, as it were.
Itâs in that moment that he finally lays eyes on you â beige pant-suit and hair in a ponytail, pen in mouth as you fly around the corner and attempt to answer the phone with the item still snug between your teeth before you realize that that simply will not do, hurriedly tugging it from your lips and lightly tossing it on the desk in front of you. You look up to the party of three in front of you, waiting patiently, and smile.
âJust a second.â
âNo problem, take your time,â the bride insists.
Chan can only watch on in awe, though.
Itâs a relatively quick phone call, confirming an appointment for flower arrangement the following week and then itâs all eyes on the individuals in front of you. You look at the bride, the groom, and then Chan â quite obviously not the one getting married. Messy, wind-swept golden hair and beady brown eyes â but in jeans and a hoodie with a small spot on it that looks akin to a child who had accidentally spilled some sauce on himself and forgot to clean it up.
A little charming, due to the fact that heâs good looking. Turns out that can get one pretty far in and of itself.
âRight so,â you begin, taking a deep breath before continuing, âwhat can I do for you?â
Minho and his soon-to-be wife begin the discussions that they had gone there for, Chan listening on and truly as if he were playing the part of the son that had been dragged along for the ride due to no childcare being available. Your eyes canât help but creep towards him every now and then â watching the way that he looks around the room, almost as if in awe of the sights â not that the interior was anything to call home about. You found it charming, his simple appreciation forâŠwhite, you supposed.
Calling for them to come into the back with you, the group sit at a table filled with thick binders with numerous labels atop them. Things like âreception,â âflowers,â âlighting,â anything that you could think of and even many that you hadnât lined the table, and Chan considers for a second that maybe he wonât get married, after all.
He brings his attention to Minho, who happily dives into one of the binders â evidently delighted by the prospect of wedding planning. A complete disintegration from the stereotypical male response â the response that had just immediately come to Chan, himself.
He figures that maybe you have to be there, then.
âThese are the more basic, common options up at the front on these pages, theyâre labeled with this color,â you point out towards one of the binders displayed in front of Minhoâs fiancee, âthe further back, the more expensive and intricate the options become. Itâs good if you have a budget in mind so that we can plan accordingly, of course.â
And of course, Chan is listening. Of course he is. But he canât help but get lost in his own thoughts, as well as he watches you work. Taking notice of your smile and how pretty it is, the few loose strands of hair that have fallen away from the rest that lie bundled up into a tie at the back of your head. Chan watches your eyelashes when you blink and notices their length, and how pretty the color of your eyes are. Your earrings â expensive looking, hopefully not expensive in price, he thinks to himself as he loses himself in wishful imaginative thought â because if the two of you were to date, he wouldnât be affording anything of the sort, and Chances are, that if they were expensive, then you wouldnât be interested in dating him, anyways.
Chan had a habit of romantically getting ahead of himself, that much was evident.
âChan?â
A sudden, vocal intrusion once again pulling him back to earth, itâs the sound of his best friends voice calling towards him. âYou okay?â
âOh,â he says, clearing his throat and sitting himself up in his chair properly. âYeah, sorry, was spacing out. Whatâs up?â
âWhat do you think of this color? We need an outside opinion, thatâs what youâre here for.â
Chan leans himself forward and out of his chair to look over the shoulders of the couple. Napkins. They forced him to stop fantasizing about dating the cute wedding planner for napkins.
Because obviously what he had been doing was of much more importance.
âUm, I like the lavender.â
âSee, I think I like the pink, actually,â the fiancee replies.
âKeep in mind you donât have to commit to anything today,â you remind them, âthis visit is really only to get an idea of where we want to go, weâre not setting anything in stone.â
âSays you, Iâm planning our own wedding,â Chan thinks to himself in response.
With pinks and roses decided among numerous other items, itâs a couple of hours later that the four of you bid farewell. You shake the hand of Minho, and the bride-to-be hugs you â much to your surprise, but with Chan, itâs a bit more awkward of a goodbye â due to the necessity of his being there in any capacity being up for discussion. However, you smile, thank them all for coming, and wish them well on their day.
Little do you know, however, the plans that the airhead friend have already set into motion.
According to him, of course.
The sound of the doorbell rings through the room as you look up from your paperwork in the back office. Gently pushing things aside in an attempt to find your schedule book, you gaze on in confusion to find that you have nothing on the agenda for this hour â and with the firm not taking walk-ins, you fail to guess what it could possibly be.
It does, however, make more sense upon finding out what the wind had blown in today.
âHey!â
Youâre shocked to find Chan standing at the door. Less the shock of it being him, and more the shock of him looking just as disheveled as he had the few days prior when you had met him. How could an adult man be so not put together, and especially on this side of town? Itâs something you contemplate but only for a moment, as you are forced to address him now that he is presented before you.
âUh, hey, so we donât take walk-insââ
âOh no, itâs not like, a thing, I was just asked to drop by to relay some information.â
âWhy you?â
âWas in the area.â
âYou were inââ and you pause, trying to think of a polite way to carry on with the thought, ââthe area.â
Chan sort of realizes that the gig is up at that moment, in his shorts and his hoodie in twelve degree weather, and smiles gently. âYeah.â
You roll your eyes, but motion for him to follow you into the back office with you nonetheless in order to take notes about whatever it is that he had gone there for â chuckling to yourself about the fact that he showed up to a very expensive office in winter, wearing shorts.
You donât even want to do the soul searching it would take to figure out why you find that endearing, perhaps best left for therapy.
Sitting down in your chair, you pull out the file for the bride and groom in question and pick up a pen. âHas the client changed their mind about something we had discussed the other day?â
âYeah,â Chan begins, but itâs slow, as he looks around and takes in the sights of the somewhat chaotic back office space that you call your own. You gently, playfully, call out a âheyâ towards him to bring him back to the topic at hand. âOh uhh, yeah, so instead of the pink, they decided on the lavender after all.â
âInteresting, your choice,â you respond.
âYou remembered?â
Realizing what you had done, that you had, in fact, remembered what his input had been, you feel a bit of the heat of embarrassment rush into your ears â but attempt to play it cool.
âOf course, you were a part of the planning.â
He doesnât respond, and only smiles down at you, shoulder holding him upright against the wooden frame of the doorway.
âAnd they decided on lilies instead of roses, also.â
âGood choice,â you answer, scribbling onto the paper in front of you and quickly penning something over the mark to replace it. âI preferred the lilies, myself.â
âIâll keep that in mind,â Chan answers, and itâs so smooth it sounds as if he never said anything unusual at all.
You know heâs flirting with you, you simply choose to ignore it.
âIs there anything else?â
âNo, just those two things.â
You stop, furrowing your brows in confusion and taking a moment to truly consider the oddity of the scenario before you. âWhyâŠdidnât they just call me, why did they send you in person? These sorts of matters can be dealt with over the phone.â
But Chan merely shrugs and continues smiling at you. âDunno, didnât ask.â
You donât take yourself for much of a detective, but figure itâs pretty simple to see whatâs going on here. Itâs cute, but youâre not interested.
You stand, motioning out towards the main lobby of the building and walk ahead of the man.
Chan takes it upon himself to view all of the ways in which you exist before him. Your hair, your eyes, your clothes.
Perhaps a moment where most men would objectify you, Chan is merely finding all of the intricate details, all of the little things â tiny ways in which he can talk himself into falling in love with you.
And youâre just trying to get the work day over with.
âI think if it were my wedding,â Chan begins, elbows on the desk and chin placed into his palms as you sit at your swivel chair and gently look up towards him as if heâs somewhat of an inconvenience to you. âI think, forest green and gold, a bit like this,â he says, pointing towards the detailing of the marble just under him. âWhat about you?â
âYou think about wedding planning?â you canât help but ask, unusual for a presumably straight man. You consider for a moment that you had been picking up all of the wrong vibes from him. Maybe he wasnât into you, after all.
âYeah, well,â and he pauses, thinking again, âwell, truthfully, I hadnât until the first day we all came here. I have been since then.â
âThatâs cute.â
âSo what about you?â
âI have work to do, if weâre done here,â you respond, ignoring his question entirely and instead meeting him with a tonally cheeky reply, avoiding eye contact as to not laugh.
âAnswer me and Iâll leave then!â Chan whines in response, and you really wish you didnât find this sort of behavior endearing in any way.
But you sigh in defeat, putting the pen that you had just picked up back down in a huff and looking up at him in gentle irritation, âfine.â
âBurgundy,â you start, pushing papers around to find a tablet of color swatches beneath them, and you point to a color on it with a freshly manicured nail. âSimilar to this, more blue-toned. and thenââ you pause, pushing the present swatches aside in favor of different ones that you had located in the meantime. âGold accenting, like this. And yellow roses.â
âWhy yellow?â
âI just like them.â
Chan knows that he responds to you, although if you asked him just after he had left what he had said, he wouldnât have been able to tell you. Instead, the man loses himself immediately in thoughts of a quickly developing crush. He watches your fingers dig through papers and point to colors â watches the way that your lips move with the words that you speak and the way the corners of them pull up when you talk about the things that you like in particular. Itâs all in the way that you so matter of a factly say that you âjust likeâ yellow roses â no other thoughts, no other reasoning. Just because.
Chan wonders if this is love â an absolutely, mind-numbingly, all-encompassing smittenness for another person that you barely know anything about. Juvenile and reckless and for all of the wrong reasons. Love at first sight. The honeymoon period that hasnât even begun yet, and Chan was full-swing all the same.
And you wish it had been different for yourself â a child-like innocence to him that you found so charming and disarming in so many ways. a cute crush that surely would never develop past the phase in which it had already reached â you found yourself daydreaming about cute dates and picking out colors with him regardless, before shaking yourself out of it and returning back to your work.
bad idea, dating the clientele â even if only tangentially related as such.
âHey.â
The smile on his face carries through the simple, verbal notion and you manage to pick up on it, even with all of the hustle and bustle going on around you.
That doesnât stop him from having scared the shit out of you, though.
You watch Chan grin in response to your sudden yell and turn, âJesus Christ,â escaping through your lips in exasperation and he still only carries a hopeful, happy curl of his lips.
âBad time?â
The irony of the question being, of course, that he is asking it all the while you pick up the numerous sheets of paper, spools of lace, and other such items from the floor â items that had been suddenly relinquished from your grasp at the ill-timed intrusion of a man, a man not even getting married.
âYes, you could say thatââ you respond, an attempt not to sound rude but perhaps failing ever so slightly. He was being irritating, after all. ââif weâre going to talk, then weâve got to talk and walk,â you say, finally pulling everything into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder just before hurriedly rushing out from behind the desk and past the man before you â nearly dumbfounded in appearance at the way you move about in the middle of the day â even if for work. âIâve got places to be, so make it quick.â
Rushing down the sidewalk, heeled shoes clattering against it, Chan watches in amazement at his inability to keep up. He wonders how you muster up the strength and ability to do this day in and day out â and with a smile on your face, at that.
âYou need to take this,â you finally say to him, stopping only briefly enough to push some of the things in your hands, into his own. âMake yourself useful.â
âHappy to,â he begins to respond, but only to watch as your back turns towards him again â ponytail in full swing, rushing back towards where ever it had been that you had been roped into stumbling towards.
Chan stops to smell the flowers â literally. As a few of varying different types had been thrown into his arms â but itâs quickly off to the races again, as to not disappoint.
And he canât help but watch in complete, smitten, awe of you as you dart in and out of shops and doorways as you go. He never goes in with you â waiting patiently out front of where ever it is that you end up in the next moment, but he finds that he is never waiting long â that you work quickly. And he knows that he doesnât know the workings of your job, your career, really at all, so maybe this is normal, but he smiles to himself at the way that the details of the situation donât even really matter to him. Chan makes sure to watch you in a sort of make-shift slow motion that he crafts himself from scratch in the moment â capturing you and your essence and all of the things that he finds himself oh so quickly becoming enamored with, even just the way the wind some times catches your coat, it feels like a movie to himâŠthe way his heart seemingly gets swept away in the same gust.
You step out of a building, as Chan is mid-thought, watching your every movement as he does. You donât even notice it. Notice him. Not really.
He knows that.
Smiling, you bid the client farewell and give a sigh of relief towards the man that had aided you in your short, but fast-paced journey. âThank you, sorry to make youââ
âGo out with me.â
The question arrives as a shocking on, albeit looking back on the situation, perhaps it should not have. You actually do give it some thought, as well â which in and of itself comes as a bit of a surprise to you, as well.
And youâre almost disappointed when you have to turn him down.
âTonight, letâs get a drink.â
âChan, thatâs nice of you butââ pausing briefly, you consider how to word the dismissal delicatelyâŠand sort of in a way to not shut down the possibility of going out in the future. âI have too much work to do tonight, and tomorrow. Iâm sorry.â
You donât want to talk to him like a child. Like someone to pity, but the refusal always finds a way to come out that way anyways. You watch Chan smile at you all the same, nodding to himself and simply saying âokayâ as a response.
âYou have a good night then, alright?â he adds, turning to head towards where home would be, and youâre not sure which part it is thatâs yelling â the head or the heart â but one of them certainly is not being quiet about itâs desire to change itâs mind about the drink matter.
But you stand strong. Thereâs always more men.
âI will, you do the same.â
âI will.â
Chan loves watching you work. Hell, suffice it to say Chan fell in love watching you work. And perhaps itâs too much, too quick â something he tells himself from the logical part of his brain. You donât even know her, dude. Which is true and he knows it, but the truth is that Chan has sort of taken it upon himself to fill in all of the blanks in the most shining, beautiful ways that he can. A man that lives on the precipice of a romantic comedy at all times â heâs always only been waiting for this moment. for someone like you. Someone to come in and sweep him off of his feet, as it were.
Just a hopeless romantic, that Bang Chan.
âNowâs not really the best timeââ you manage out towards him, mouth full of safety pins and fingers attempting to fumble through loads of white, shimmering fabric.
Dress fittings, the best part of the whole getting married gig, to some.
He doesnât reply, carefully discarding himself from the doorway as to not be an obstruction physically in the same way that his presence is in every other way. He does smile, though. Halfway. A sly curly of the lip that you catch before pressing more pins into the bodice of your client.
Chan watches the whirlwind before him â feeling like the exaggerated display of floral lace and shiny shoes being tossed up and around like in the cartoons one sees when growing up werenât actually that far from the truth â he smiles all the same, because heâs charmed by it all.
He especially takes note of your tied back hair and the way your jacket had been discarded probably long before he had arrived. How it appeared as though your day had already been a long one, despite it only being the early afternoon.
Itâs the first time that Chan thinks to himself that you might really be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
But his attention is pulled back to reality, a woman gently leaning towards him and softly addressing him â as if she had known that his thoughts werenât there with them at the time.
âAre you with the bride?â
Taken by surprise, Chan shakes his head â hands up in submission. âOh, Iâm with her!â he says, and points towards you as you continue diligently working on the fitting before you.
âOh my God,â the client suddenly exclaims, turning towards him so suddenly that it sends you reeling. âYouâre getting married, too!?â
Fuck sake.
âWow, what a coincidence, huh?â the staff smiles towards Chan, before heading towards the small cooler behind the counter and pulling out a bottle of champagne. âWe certainly have to celebrate this!â
Itâs a roller coaster, for sure â and as hilariously charming the confusion is, Chanâs eyes canât help but stay glued to your figure. Scanning your reaction. A chance you donât hate this? A chance you might be willing to play along? Play pretend? Just for him, just for today?
The staff member comes back over to Chan without any time wasted, handing him a glass of bubbly gold liquid before sauntering over to you and handing you the same. Drinking is pretty strictly against the rules while on the job â except in situations where not drinking could cost you the job, of course. Itâs up to your own discretion, case by case basis.
Suppose weâre pretending weâre getting married today. Just another check mark off of the list of completely insane things that the job every so often required of you.
Chan finally makes his way to the back and towards you, gently smiling â it says sorry that this happened, but itâs kind of fun, right? And you wish that you could deny him the pleasure of being right.
âSo, have you started dress shopping yet?â the bride asks, eyes sparkling and excitement lacing her voice. You found it so lovable â the absolute delight that she seemed to receive from just the mere prospect that someone else might be just as happy as she was â who were you to ruin her day, then?
âN-no, not yet,â you stutter out, bashfully smiling towards Chan and then quickly away from him, because what the fuck? âIâm quite picky.â
You can see Chan trying to reign in the curl of the corners of his mouth at the response. Heâs enjoying it way too much for your liking, possibly more than the client before you.
âYou should try something on with me! Oh my God, please!â she gasps, grabbing at your free hand and shaking it gently. âPlease! It would be so fun!â
âOh, Iââ suddenly looking up towards Chan â full on smiling, now â and back at the client, you feel a bit outnumbered. âI shouldnât, Iâm workingâŠâ
âYeah, for me!â she answers, hands on her hips in a playfully authoritative way, âso I think if I want you to try on a dress with me, that you should probably do it!â
Itâs a mischievous threat, not backed by any actual ill-will, but you do have to consider any possible implications behind it â she is a big client, an expensive client.
You should probably just do what youâre told, right?
Running your hands down the front of the beaded bodice, itâs sort of an impulse to avoid your own reflection in the numerous, angled mirrors before you. Set up to show you every inch of yourself â you find irony in the fact that you wish to see none of it, because it feels wrong. Itâs out of place, and not how you had dreamed your first dress try on to be â to appease a rich, pushy client and for a man that for all intents and purposes, you donât even know. Playing dress up and pretend at your big age, it wasnât the ideal outcome.
You hear the woman call out for you â indiscernible words that you know the meaning of all of the same. Hurry up, come out, become a spectacle. But you had already agreed, and the faster you begin, the faster it will end. You look up, finally making eye contact with yourself in the reflection, and your heart drops â but not for any of the aforementioned reasons you had expected. In a flash, all of your previous concerns simply melt away, just like that.
You looked beautiful. Ethereal.
And in the moment, you became painfully aware of all of the years that you had spent attending to the romantic wants and needs of everyone but yourself. Seeing yourself in the dress became an acutely stark reminder that maybe â just maybe â it was time to allow yourself to focus on you.
And despite barely knowing the man before you, watching the way his eyes lit up at the sight of you as you gently strolled into the room â as if he had never seen a sight more beautiful in his life â you think to yourself that if this guy can look at you this way, then imagine the way that someone who loved you would look at you.
Irony.
A few hours later into the evening, the sun setting and air cooling, the four of you say your goodbyes as the staff locks up the shop and the client joyfully heads off and on her way. When only the two of you are left â you and Chan â you let go a heavy sigh of relief, one that feels as though it had made a happy home in your chest, never to be evicted or removed in any way.
âWhat a horrifically stressful day,â you start, as to set the tone of the conversation and not let the man before you get any ideas that you may have actually enjoyed any part of the goings on of the day. âBut she was happy, thatâs all that matters.â
âIs that so?â Chan replies, a hint of doubt in his tone. âYou really hated it that much? You looked pretty.â
The compliment sends heat rushing to your face. Since when was that a side effect of engaging with this gentleman?
âI guess itâs good that you played along,â you say, pulling your messy ponytail out and beginning to put it back up into a more well-maintained one. âItâll be a really positive memory for her, and thatâs my job, after all.â
Chan simply watches you, taking in every moment as if itâll be the last because really, who knows.
âAnyways, since she was so happy, if you donât have anything going on tonightââ
âYes.â
âYou donât even know what I was going to say!â you respond in a playful-yell, slapping at his arm, but Chan only laughs.
âI do know what you were going to say! You were going to ask me out! I said yes!â
âI wasnât going to ask you out!â you quip, slightly embarrassed by how transparent you had seemingly been. âI was going to agree to going out with you, since you had asked me before, theyâre different things, actually.â
âAh, I see,â Chan replies, only playing along with your asinine explanation but not willing to push it any further because in the end â he was getting precisely what it was that he had wanted all along. âWell in that case, I know just the place.â
Only a few blocks down the street and a quick right, Chan stops and holds his hand out as if you usher you ahead of him. Gray, stone steps trailing down into what appears to be a basement, hole in the wall type establishment â youâre almost a little concerned. This is an upper class area of the city, and this is where he takes you? And itâs as if the man just behind you is capable of reading your mind, chiming out âjust trust me, youâll like it.â
You open the door, holding it for him to follow, and the dimly lit atmosphere almost sweeps you just off your feet. A beautiful, antique adorned establishment, decorated as if to appeal to numerous generations before; but in the most swanky, high class, way. The type of surroundings that just about anyone from any walk of life could find charm in.
So shocked, you forget that you had stopped to take in the sights.
âCome on, letâs not linger in the doorway,â Chan says as he passes, cheeky-toned and knowing that he had caught you.
Shrugging your coat off, you hang it on the rack and take a seat next to him at the bar. Drinks are ordered and quickly served due to it not being a busy night, and Chan wastes no time getting into the nitty-gritty of what it was he was interested in: you. Everything about you. Where youâre from, where you live now, where you went to school and what you studied and your hobbies â itâs all things that he, of course, has a genuine interest in â but that doesnât change the fact that they are but stepping stones to the meat and potatoes of what it was that he really wanted to know.
Your relationship status. Are you single. Are you looking. Are you open to the possibility of falling in love, and not just with anyone, but with him, specifically.
Although, perhaps he would not be one to lean so hard into the tail end of the obvious.
âTruth is,â you begin, shimmering glass of red wine pressed delicately to your already stained-red lips. âIâve been single for a while. Sort of on purpose, I suppose. I wanted to focus on work and really get my career going for a while before I put time and effort into adding another person into my life.â
âIs that serving you?â Chan questions, his own glass mirroring yours against his mouth.
You pause for a moment to consider the answer â remembering how you felt in that fleeting moment back at the dress shop, seeing yourself in that dress. Was it serving you?
âYeah, I think so,â you finally answer in an accompanying nod, âI think itâs important to be able to be happy by oneself before attempting cohabitation of some sort.â
And Chan chuckles in response, much to your surprise. â'Cohabitationâ makes it sound so clinical, like the concept of dating someone is a science experiment.â
âIsnât it sort of?â
âYeah, suppose it is, in ways.â
âWhat about you?â
And now he pauses, thinking himself through the slew of potential replies that bounce through his mind in an instant â some more insane than others, admittedly.
âHappily single, but always open to the possibility.â
âI think thatâs a good way to look at it.â
Chan takes a slow sip from his glass and eyes you intently, as if trying to gauge your interest in his answers based purely off of a single, minute, change in facial expression. Hell, he wanted it so bad he was willing to make it up himself.
Itâs the gentle curly of your lip at his reply that catches him off guard â burned into his memory forever and always â or at least until a moment were to come that the two of you would have made enough memories together that such an insignificant one need not be held onto for so long anymore.
Drink glasses emptied and coats slung back over shoulders, the two of you head back out and onto the chilled sidewalk to head your own separate ways. You canât help but take notice of the way Chan looks at you â eyes shining in the florescence of the street lamp just behind you â the first time that you acknowledge to yourself that you think he is handsome, as well as the first time you acknowledge that feeling in your chest that you get when he happens to come around.
Itâs a bad time.
âLook, I had a nice time butââ
Chan rolls his eyes in response already, and you havenât even finished the sentence.
âWhat? Youâre a clientâŠkind of.â
âIâm not, and on top of that, I can assure you that they would not care at all! Theyâd probably think it was cute, actually. Iâm sure Minho would already have so many stories to tell at our wedding from the first consultation.â
âWell thatâs not reassuring,â you snort, âtelling me I was already so memorably unprofessional from the beginning, huh?â
âOnly in my eyes, donât worry, they loved you.â
âChan!â
âCome on, Iâm kidding,â he replies again, âitâs not a big deal, they wouldnât think anything of it. Youâre making it into a bigger deal than it would be in your head.â
You know that that is likely the case. You also know that itâs just so easy to say one thing â like that one is ever so willing to look for love â and then construct the simplest walls given to you to avoid it at all costs.
The two of you still in silence for a moment, as if in a stand-off of sorts, but you more than capable of breaking the silence and constructing just one more wall â for good measure, of course.
âI donât think itâs a good idea,â you say, with finality. âThank you for tonight, I had a nice time.â
Chan thinks to himself as he watches you walk away, that if it were any other woman, in any other circumstance, he would have already live and let live. That even in watching the way you turn him down and walk away, that youâre still simply the most beautiful woman heâs ever seen. Musing about every word that you said and the way in which you said it â how your glass of red wine stained your lips just the perfect amount that it made it nearly unbearable to not kiss them, how pretty your hands looked around the wine glass and how cute your smile was every time he said something that â purposefully, of course â you found mildly irritating.
Making his way to his empty apartment again, and standing just outside, Chan knows that there is progress made.
But what are you running from?
When you hear the jingling of the front door, and look down to your planner to find nothing having been scheduled for that time, you know that trouble is awaiting you in the lobby â trouble in the form of a kinda beefy, 171cm handsome gentleman by the name of Bang Chan.
Eh, suppose things could always be worse.
Lazily buttoning the deep maroon button of your vest as to look presentable, you look up and lock eyes with him as you come around the bend and into the front of the establishment. Chan â in all of his glory â a fitting pair of jeans for once and a shirt to match, youâre a little surprised. Had he made the effort all for you? Charming, if not for the fact that you told him you werenât going to date him only a week prior to now.
Some men have a problem taking ânoâ for an answer, unfortunately, sometimes itâs kind of charming when thatâs the case, as well.
âHoney, Iâm home!â Chan chimes, and you roll your eyes as you make your way to the front desk and seat yourself down.
âYes Chan? Can I help you?â
âAlways.â
âWith something involving my job in some capacity.â
âOh, right, that!â he answers. You know that he knows what you mean, heâs always just doing his utmost to be as much of a problem as possible. Youâre not happy about how charming you find that, either.
âSo, rehearsal dinner is in two weeks, on Thursday.â
âI know that, itâs my job to know that, I already talked to the bride two days ago.â
âWell Iâm not here to tell you about it, Iâm here to ask you to be my date to it.â
The brazen admission takes you off guard. It wasnât really the first time Chan had ever asked you out, but this feltâŠdifferent. Perhaps because of the night at the bar not too long prior.
You werenât particularly fond of the way it made your stomach flip, either.
âIâll be there, but for work, not for fun.â
âFor pleasure, I think is how they call it,â he corrects, and youâre not proud of what the implications of that do to your mind.
You clear your throat, Chan watching all the while with a grin, and avoiding eye contact altogether, you stand again â pulling some items from the counter top into your arms and heading into the back from where you came.
âRight, well,â you say, attempting to play off how flustered youâve now become in his incredibly flirtatious presence. âI have work to get back to, so, I will see you at the rehearsal â because it is my job and I suppose that you will also be there.â
With a smile on his face and eyes never leaving your form, before youâre able to scurry off to freedom, one last thing leaves his lips â because of course it does.
âDo a little something nice with your hair, itâs an occasion, isnât it?â
You had never felt the need to keep a pillow to scream into in the back end of your office prior, but perhaps now were as good a time as any to invest.
On rehearsal night, catching your reflection in one of the mirrors of the wedding venue, you sort of wish that you had been a stronger person. You wonder how it was, exactly, that this man that you truly, barely knew, had managed to wear down your resolve in such a way that you were playing dress up for him. No, your attire not different than a typical work day â you were still on the clock, after all.
But your hair. And you canât stand the way Chan looks to the floor with a smile when he first catches glance of you. Well, canât stand it, and also sort of adore it.
âSo, the brides mother, father, and sister weâre thinking of having here â but if thereâs something that Iâm missing, let me know so I can arrange it in a way thatââ
âHey there.â
Frozen in place, you donât have to turn to check who it is anymore, and meeting eyes with the catering planner you had been speaking to, you smile gently before motioning that you need a moment, and turning towards Chan. âIâm working, can you give me a moment?â
âWe need you to sit in for rehearsal, weâre missing someone.â
âAbsolutely not, are you crazy?â
âCome on, you only have to pretend you have a crush on me, you donât really have to have one.â
Turning back to the caterer in an instant, you insist that youâll email the finalized plans over to him right away in the morning before finishing your conversation with Chan.
âIf you keep interrupting me at work, I might not have a crush on you, real or make believe.â
âI think itâll take more than that,â he replies with a cheeky grin, and nodding his head over towards the table, ânow get over here and pretend youâre in love with me.â
Itâs sort of sick, how easy it is for him to talk you into it. All of it. Any of it.
When the seating plan goes smoothly, and all of the wedding participants stand to take in slow views of the rest of the venue ahead of the big day, as you finish off some notes, Chan saunters over towards you with two glasses of wine in hand. âCome out with me?â
Stepping out and onto the large, white stoned balcony, you sigh in relief at how smooth the night had gone. You explain to Chan that â even in spite of having done the job for years, thereâs always parts of every new client experience that feel brand new, that you feel as though youâve never done before. Chan gazes on intently as he watches you speak with vigor, with self-respect, and with love and adoration for yourself. He thinks, in that moment, it might truly be the sexiest thing about you â at least, thus far.
When the gentle wind blows your lightly curled hair to one side and sends a shiver down your spine, Chan reaches out and pulls you towards him â into his warm embrace.
âItâs still chilly this time of year, yeah?â he says, and itâs almost a whisper. Perhaps the quietest you think youâve ever heard him.
You opt out of responding verbally, and silently enjoy the warmth the man brings to you.
âHey,â he says again, suddenly, and pulling you from him ever so slightly. Again, you choose not to reply, assuming that there were to be more words following up such a statement.
But you were soon to find that to not be the case â as Chan leans down and into you, plush lips gently pressing into your own.
The warmest you had felt all evening, you think to yourself â and perhaps interested in more where that came from, after all.
A short drive in Chanâs car lands the both of you in front of your apartment building â a gentleman, having offered his services of bringing you home in one piece â albeit, the thoughts of being torn apart by him figuratively becoming more and more of interest to you as the moments near him pass. Surely, one glass of wine wasnât enough to throw all caution to the wind.
Unless�
âCan I walk you up?â
Grabbing your belongings from the floor of the front seat, you chuckle. âNot much to walk, my building has an elevator.â
âWow, fancy,â he replies smugly. âDidnât know you had elevator-money in this sort of economy.â
âGo to Hell, yes you can walk me up, sheesh.â
His playfulness was what really had you, and you hated to see it. Broken down by the childlike innocence and joy of someone who was becoming more intriguing, more desirable, and more sexually attractive by the second. Truly, what had happened to your resolve?
Manicured finger pressed into the up arrow button, the elevator is silenced completely â no indication of it ever having registered the button being pressed at all. You press it again, and still nothing.
You sigh.
âBroken?â he says.
âProbably just asleep,â you quip back, âyes itâs broken. Have to take the stairs I suppose â you donât have to come, I live on the fourth floor, Iâm sure I can make it.â
âBetter safe than sorry, really.â
Rolling your eyes, the both of you head towards the stairwell â all the while you hoping the slamming beating of your heart against your chest wonât reverberate through the echoing halls of the winding concrete cave that you are about to enter.
Floors two and three go without a hitch â well, mostly. Itâs between three and four, that you realize there was never any Chance of you getting out of this stairwell unscathed. Or un-somethinged, at least.
He had plans all along.
âHey,â Chan quietly calls towards you from behind, a hand reaching out and snatching your wrist from behind. Itâs gentle, but enough to have you stumbling ever so slightly. He catches you â turning and pressing your back against the cold, white, wall â and them himself even harder against you.
Hot breath ghosting against the skin of your face, Chanâs lips fail to make contact with your own â instead opting to press into your jaw, and then your neck â and not without the direct contact of his hard thigh wedged into the apex of your own.
Youâre a little ashamed of how little it took for him to pull from you a verbal response. It wasnât much, but a breathy whine all the same â and you can feel the curling of his lips against you in affirmation that he had, in fact, heard it.
âI want you,â he whispers into your flesh, and the admission makes you dizzy with desire, pressing yourself down and against his leg for friction even more â as if to say that you felt the same way.
âDo you want me?â he follows up, mildly irritated at the fact that heâs asking, given the physical cues, but you still manage the breathy âyesâ that he had been waiting oh so long for.
Chan thinks that it sounds so much better than he had ever even imagined it would. Unfortunate that this was not to be the time nor the place.
Pulling away, the loss of body against your own leaves you confused and frazzled â chest heaving and eyebrows furrowed, but you choose not to speak, because surely he would.
Because what the fuck?
And right on cue, ânot now, I meanââ he pauses, looking down at the tenting in his own pants and adjusting as for it to be not as obvious in the case of running into other people. âNot here, or now.â
âMy apartment is right thereââ
âI know,â he nods, âtrust me, I want to â obviously â but I like you, soââ
âYou canât have sex with someone you like? Are you one of those Madonna-whore type guys? I knew there had to be something wrong with you.â You spiral off, adjusting your pants and trying to gather yourself properly. Chan merely laughs in response for a moment.
âNo, itâs nothing like that, Iâm perfectly capable of fucking you,â he answers clearly, and with decisiveness. âAnd I will, presumably. But letâs get to know each other a bit more first, yeah?â
âOh my God,â you exclaim, a little annoyed at the games that Chan seemingly loves to play with you, and yet, willing to continue playing them on his terms all the same. âFine, I guess Iâll get to know you or whatever.â Playful sarcasm dripping from the tail end of your response.
He laughs, gentle smile taking his features â and in his mind, all of the ways he plans to have you when the time is right.
When Chan shows up to your place of employment only three days later, itâs bad timing. The truth of the matter, is that itâs always bad timing, thatâs the nature of a fast paced job such as your own, though. Shoving items into a bag and slinging it over your shoulder â followed by desperately trying to free your ponytail from the confines of the sling as you run towards the door, you only manage out with a âletâs go, move, move!â as you rush past the man in the doorway.
By now, Chan knows better than to ask very many questions. Heâs quick on the uptake. He knows what he may sign up for upon arrival. Today? A handful of miscellaneous binders â sticky notes and fabrics sticking out of the tops, bottoms and sides of them.
âAlready comfortable with bossing me around, huh?â he says, a brisk stride catching him up to you on the sidewalk as the both of you hustle down the concrete path.
âYou know how it is,â you say, âif youâre gonna be here then Iâm gonna put you to work.â
âI kind of like it,â flirtation lacing his voice. âBeing told what to do by a beautiful woman definitely isnât the worst way to spend the day.â
âThatâs what you like? Iâll keep that in mind.â
âMaybe, canât give everything away on the first date, Iâm not easy.â
âSo I noticed.â
You take notice of how easy it is now to engage in these types of conversations with him. Cute, curly blonde hair flowing in the breeze as you both run-walk towards the destination a couple of blocks away â youâd be lying if you said that it wasnât a charm point â his absolute willingness to go above and beyond already. Carry things. Help you at work. Hell, he had sort of already showed up for you better than a lot of the guys you had dated in the past.
And now the flirting â playfully toying with each other in tone and topic that borders, if not fully crosses, the line of appropriateness â especially with you being on the clock.
Not that anyone is with the two of you to monitor the conversation. Or know that he took you home the other night. Or any of the other misdoings of that particular evening.
âPlace is up here, did you come by for a reason or do you have a sixth sense for when I need help carrying things?â you ask, finally slowing down when the time on your phone insists that you have perhaps a minute or two to spare extra.
âYeah, actuallyââ he starts, slowing down next to you and stopping to face. âI wanted to ask you to be my date to the wedding.â
And youâre floored. Thatâs your immediate, gut, response anyways, but the more you grant a second to it, the more unsurprising you become.
He either genuinely does not understand how your job works and what proper boundaries are, or he just truly does not care. Youâre fairly certain you know which it is.
âChan, Iâm working the eventââ
âNo, I know!â he interrupts suddenly, and for the first time it appears as though he had actually put some thought into it, and the inappropriateness of such a situation. âIt can be our little secret. Just between us two.â
Looking down at your phone to check the time, and following it with an exhausted sigh, you roll your eyes. âThen whatâs even the point?â
One corner of Chanâs mouth pulls up, and now you know he put thought into this. Which may or may not be advised, after all.
âThe real fun would be after the event, obviously.â
Visually, you give off no tells, that of which youâre sure, but inside? Screaming, at the top of your lungs.
Youâre not entirely sure if he means sex, or a date, or sex and a date or what he means at all. A man with something sly constantly up his sleeve, you simply had to assume: all of the above.
And so, you agree.
Weeks pass, and youâre surprised by the fact that when the night of the wedding comes around, Chan is actually no where to be found all of the time prior. The man that could not resist the urge to bother you at work, suddenly ghosting you? Were you being ghosted? Did he lose interest? Perhaps the allure of sleeping with the cute wedding planner had worn off all just before the big night itself. Tragic, you think to yourself, you didnât even get to sleep with him, after all.
But when he meets you for the first time at the reception near the open bar â a smooth hand brushing the small of your back â so brief that no one nearby would ever catch it, the glimmer in his eye is enough to let you know that the plan is, in fact, still on.
And through the sound of a private bathroom door slamming against the wall, and your back up against it â met once again with the enticingly crushing weight of him against you as his mouth meets your own in fervent, needy kisses â you forget why you thought it was ever off anyways.
âW-we have to go back out there, Chanââ you manage out between mouths and gasps of breath, fingers curled into the white coat of his blazer. âYou wore white? Thatâs so tacky.â
âNot my choice, bride wanted it,â he answers back in similar neediness and much more expressed disinterest in the topic. âI want you.â
âLast time you said thatââ and Chan kisses you on the mouth hard again. ââlast time you said that you didnât do anything about it.â
âAnd I canât again, not yet anyways.â
âNot into exhibitionism?â
âI donât perform well under pressure.â
You laugh as he pulls away from you, allowing you to straighten yourself up to go back out into the public eye. âYouâd be terrible at my job.â
âI know, just the most soft-dicked wedding planner ever, itâd be humiliating,â Chan chuckles, leaning back to check himself in the mirror as well before reaching forward and placing his hand on the door knob. âGood?â
âGood.â
As the reception carries on, you stand back to watch from a distance â available when necessary but for the most part, out of the way. For all intents and purposes, the large portion of your job was finished. The clients were happy, and the night a beautiful one â dimly lit fairy lights and silver plating along white, linen tables. You watch as Minho and his bride share a dance together, smiling into one another's eyes. Truly and madly in love.
A moment later, you catch Chanâs from across the room â a look held in time longer than it would typically be held. You feel it in your chest more than anything, and more than that, youâre hopeful that he might be catching the same.
When the night festivities finally come to a close â shaking more hands than you remember ever having mingled with in all of your time working with the client, Chan finally makes his way over towards you as the crowd dissipates â two glasses of wine just as he had offered on the rehearsal night, and you grin at him knowingly.
âRemember what happened the last time I had a glass of wine on the terrace with you?â
âNothing much, as far as my recollection goes.â
Following him out and looking out towards the view, a breeze passes by the both of you â warmer than the last time, inviting, almost. Your gaze pulls from the trees and the buildings before you and towards the man next to you â handsome and charming and seemingly full of love and passion.
Had heâŠall of the things that you were looking for in a man?
Feeling your piercing gaze, he turns towards you â ashamed at your gawking, you chuckle lightly and bring your wine glass to your lips, but Chan only smiles in adoration of you.
Inhaling, Chan begins to speak.
âIâm not going to sleep with youââ
Itâs sudden, and sends Chan visibly reeling â so much so that you feel the need to amend the statement in earnest.
âWhat I mean is like, like a one night standâŠhook-up sort of thing.â
Eyebrows gently furrowing, Chan remains silent as he watches you talk through your thoughts in real time, not wanting to interrupt where ever it was that you were intending on going with this.
âIâ I have feelings, so,â you stutter out, avoiding direct eye contact and instead, choosing to speak to the golden liquid in your glass. âSo I donât think itâs a good idea, is all. Sorry.â
Silence takes the balcony briefly. Seconds that feel like years to you, but in real time, Chan responds quite immediately. To that, you are thankful.
âWhat? Of course Iâm interested in you. Iâve always been interested in you,â he says, âI donât carry around binders full of color swatches just for any olâ woman I want to sleep with, are you kidding me?â
âChan shut up! Iâm being serious!â
âI know, I knowââ he giggles, avoiding your playful slap to his arm. âI am, too. Iâm serious.â
And taking a step forward, Chan leans down into you once again. Itâs not the first kiss that the two of you have shared, and hell, not even of the night.
But it was different. It was new in all of the ways that love is and can be. The blossoming feeling of being seen and held by the one person that you wish to perceive you.
Walking back inside as the catering staff begin cleaning up the remains of the evening, Chan turns to you and takes a deep breath, as if somewhat insecure about where to go now.
âSo,â he begins, the word exhaled through his mouth as if attempting to mask it to be as unheard as possible. âWant to come back to my place, then?â
You look at him with feigned surprise before replying, âaww, look at you. You look so shy now. What happened to tough guy in the bathroom a few hours back?â
âTough guy has to perform now, if you say yes. Remember what I said about pressure?â Chan laughs in response.
You lean in to whisper, as to not allow any passerby into your banter. âAre you warning me of something?â
âDoubtful, but imagine how good itâs going to be if you go in with low expectations.â
âYouâre so annoying.â
Turning off his car, you take a deep breath before grabbing your bags and moving towards crawling out of the passenger side of the vehicle.
âNervous?â he asks. Itâs obvious, after all.
âA little, I guess? Kind of silly since Iâm a grown woman.â
âNot really, pretty normal,â he says, opening the car door and ushering himself out as well. âOn the bright side, you donât have to climb any flights of stairs, my building elevator works.â
âElevator? After everything you said about mine! Jerk.â
Finally stepping foot into the mans apartment, you realize in the moment that you had never given even an inkling of a thought to what it would look like prior.
Nice furnishings, a clean kitchen area, and a bed thatâs made â despite a relatively small apartment, it was well kept, and if you didnât know any better you would think that he werenât a single man at all.
âWant anything to drink?â he asks from behind you, rustling around with keys and coats by the door. You hum in response that you donât need anything.
The next thing you know, youâre being hauled off towards the bedroom, in a set of arms much more muscular than you ever remember them being.
Dropping you back first onto the mattress, Chan wastes no timing climbing up the length of your body and nestling himself between your legs â mouths making contact yet again, and more needy than ever before â Chan only stops long enough to pull his own shirt off and over his head, thrown across his bedroom before settling back down and against you.
It lasts only momentarily, however â the heat of the moment quickly over taking him as he becomes acutely aware of how much clothing you are wearing and how much he desperately does not want that to be the case. Ushering himself up and onto his knees, he begins fingering at the buttons of your blouse, and smiles as your own hands reach down towards the buttons of your slacks.
âCan I take this off?â Chan asks hurriedly, already gently pulling you up and off of the mattress as if he anticipates the affirmative response. He receives it, of course, and slings the fabric along with the previously discarded of his own.
âIn a rush?â you giggle, lying back down and watching his hands work in a rush against all of the confines keeping the distance between his skin and your own intact.
âA little bit, should I slow down?â
âNo, itâs okay, we have more time for slowing down in the future.â
âThatâs what I was thinking,â Chan responds, motioning himself in reverse to create space to pull your pants from your legs. âThat reminds me though, be my girlfriend?â
âYouâre asking me now?â you laugh, the only clothing remaining on your body a pair of panties.
âShould I wait until iâm in?â
âYou should shut up.â
âIâll take that as a 'yesâ then.â
Chan makes fast work of his own jeans, kicking them along with his boxer briefs off before climbing back onto the bed, and you realize that youâre staring.
And unfortunately, that he notices, too. A cheeky grin, followed by a bright redness to his ears. Itâs not often that you see him shy, but you canât help but enjoy the sight.
Well, both sights.
Reaching down and hooking fingers into the remaining fabric, he pulls them from you and wastes no time pressing two fingers against â and then into you. A dull stretch, relieving in a sense â the feeling that this is finally going to happen, and apparently you had desired it much more than you had thought going in.
Chan leans down, pressing his mouth against yours only to trail his lips down your jaw, up and over towards your ear. Gently pressing his hand into you, you exhale a whiny â and you can hear the way it makes his own breath hitch.
âI want you,â he whispers into you, and if not for the fact that you knew it would finally happen, you might be annoyed by the admission.
âPlease,â is all you can groan out, but thankfully, itâs all that he needs.
Pulling back and off of you again, Chan leans over to his dresser, opening the small wooden drawer and fishing out a plastic packet before ripping it open with his teeth and gently motioning it along himself.
As Chan leans back down into you, you feel the beginning of his gentle intrusion â guided by his hand in the beginning, then by the sharp inhale of your breath at the stretch. Forearms flat against the mattress on either side of your head, biting into your lip and eyes screwed shut â Chan groans under his breath as he presses himself all of the way into you, fully buried in your warm, wetness.
âGodââ he exhales into your mouth, you swallow it down happily, his admission of submission to you. âYou feel amazing.â
âYou feelââ you begin, feeling as though it necessary of you to meet him halfway in the discussion. After all, no one likes to be left hanging all alone. But itâs the slow, drag of his pull out, followed by another velvety push inside that catches the words in your throat and only allows them out in the form of a groaned out âfuck.â
Only a few more strokes before Chan is able to get his head screwed on properly again â enough to make use of himself at least â and settles into a slow, strong pace against you. Bringing a hand up, he finds your hair and wraps fingers into it â not pulling, but as if you keep you grounded, keep you in place for him â for the both of you, in a way.
âCh-Chan, Iââ you whisper against his cheek, voice shaky and seemingly already fucked out.Â
He snaps his attention to, albeit a bit surprised by the fact. âAlready?â
You nod quickly. Followed by a sigh of relief from him.
âOh thank God, I'm so cl-closeââ
Digging your nails into his strong shoulders, you feel your abdomen tighten in impending release, and itâs only a few more strokes before heâs pulling it from you â teeth gritted hard, unsure about the potential of a noise complaint from any neighboring people and not wanting to risk it â you groan loudly into the flesh of his arm, only causing him to meet you the same â three, four especially hard, rough pounds against you before heâs clenching his eyes shut and emptying into the barrier between you.
Rolling off of you to lie in next, chests heaving even in spite of the short session, Chan tosses his arm across his face and chuckles to himself after only a minute or two of silence between you.
âIâve been waiting to do that for weeks.â
You giggle, snuggling up towards him. âYeah? I could tell.â
âHey, hey, hey!â he snaps back, bringing his closest arm to you up and around you. âGive me time, itâs been a while, alright?â
Tying off the condom eventually and getting up for glasses of water, he hands you one as the both of you sit at the edge of the bed.
âBurgundy and gold, right?â
The sudden thought catches you off guard, because what does that have to do with anything?
âWh-whatâ?â
âYour wedding colors, burgundy and gold, was it?â
And now youâre really caught off guard, because heâŠremembered that?
âYes, how do you remember that?â
You watch him smile, looking down into his glass of water before turning back towards you with his grin never diminishing. Chan leans in and kisses you on the forehead delicately before answering the question.
âGonna be important,â he begins, âcanât hire you to work your own event, now can I?â
⥠send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.
âthis is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.
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So Pretty | Bang Chan
Summary: you give Channie the love he deserves
Notes: Channie's recent live has given me sad hours and I want you all to imagine what it would be like if bang chan could receive the love and affection he absolutely needs and deserves
Warnings: none, other than the fact it's too short:(
"You are so pretty," you coo to your lover. You adjusted your position on the couch so you could lean over, cupping his cheeks between your palms and squishing them together gently.
Chan's eyelashes fluttered closed as your lips pressed soft kisses to the eyelids. "You're the beautiful one in this relationship," he mumbles.
"Hmm, while I can certainly take a compliment, you also have to learn to accept my opinion. And that is: you are the most beautiful person to ever exist."
Chan giggles at your confession, finding the embarrassment to be too overwhelming. "What are you even saying?"
He opened his doe eyes to look at you, a little sparkle flaring in them as he caught the genuine love in your eyes. You smiled sweetly, placing another peck to his face. "As you know, I'm never wrong. So I couldn't possibly be wrong about this either."
Your lover couldn't fight you anymore. He knew better than to let the moment get pushed into a deeper conversation, potentially ruining the happy mood you intentionally set for him. Instead, he watched you carefully tuck tendrils of his hair away, enjoying the way you looked at him. Your smile always made his heart light up like the starry sky.
Chan dipped his hands down to grip your waist, tugging you into his lap to hold you properly. He watched you adjust comfortably, thighs on both of his hips. He rested his hands on yours before leaning down to lay his head on you shoulder.
"Tell me I'm pretty again," he mutters quietly, eyes closing to peacefully listen to your voice.
You play with the strands of his hair softly. "You're so pretty," you whisper, humming afterwards. "So, so pretty. I could stare at you all day long. The many different shades of brown your eyes can have when they glisten in the sun. The shape of your eyebrows," you paused your words as you thought about it.
Chan let out a short laugh. "My eyebrows?"
You nod. "Yes. Your right eyebrow sticks straight up after a really good nap! But the minute I go to smooth it out, it stands right back up. And yet, it's such a handsome feature. Because it's you all natural."
Chan hums softly, truly listening and hanging onto your every word. He never thought he could hear someone compliment him and accept it. Chan found himself compelled to believe your words, despite his own internal differences.
"I love your lips, and how you've learned to tilt your head for cute pictures because your smile curls more to one side. It just fills my heart with butterflies seeing you smiling so prettily for me. I love your curly hair the most out of all the styles, no matter how unruly it may get. The soft way it lays on the top but goes crazy on the sides, practically begging for me to play with it!"
The laughter bubbling between the two of you forced him to pull away. Chan looks into your eyes to ground himself again, his lips curling into that smile you loved. "You are so charming with words."
"I wasn't done-"
"It's fine!" He cuts off quickly, hand covering your mouth. "I'm fine. I love you, and I appreciate your words. I appreciate you."
"But?" You press, finding a mischievous glint behind his eyes as you remove his hand.
"But....I need a shower. My hair needs to be washed, actually."
"Curly Chan?!" You gasped.
He nods. "Curly Chan. Please order some food because we are about to have a long night in." With a wink, your lover set you back onto the couch and ran for your shared bedroom, swiftly closing the door behind him.
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hi stayville!!
I was thinking on writing something based on the song "boys don't cry" by camila cabello and I was wondering if you guys think it would be better with lix or chan
i love how the song empowers vulnerability and openness in relationships and I think that concept would be great with both of them but I have to choose one hahah
I don't have a structure for it except for the concept of the song, like the reader supporting the s/o through reminding them of the beauty of their vulnerability + making their relationship a safe place to be vulnerable
if this sparkles any ideas or suggestions you'd like me to include, let me know!! âš
#bang chan fluff#bang chan imagine#bang chan oneshot#bang chan scenarios#chan fluff#bangchan fluff#lee felix fluff#lee felix imagines#lee felix x reader#bang chan x reader#stray kids oneshot#stray kids fluff#straykids imagines#straykids fluff
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Lean On Me



Genre: schoolboy!Chan, angst, hurt/comfort, crack
Warnings: vaguely suggestive, vague mention of toxic parents
Request: no
Characters: Chan, Y/N
Word Count: 2.6k
"Ow ⊠" Y/N muttered under her breath as she landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. The concrete beneath her scraped across her knees as she felt her tights rip, giving way to her already bruised knees.
She sat up and dusted her hands; the bottoms of her palms were red but unscathed. She peered down at her knees and visibly blanched - blood was trickling from two large welts in her knees, and it was congealing around the fraying edges of her tights.
Y/N sighed. She was glad she was in a concealed part of the school grounds. No one would accidentally walk past and witness her in a state of vulnerability.
Shrugging her backpack off of her shoulders, Y/N unzipped it and hunted around for her little first aid kit. She had always been clumsy; after her face had had too many encounters with the seemingly intriguing ground, she had begun to carry a small pouch around with her. Equipped with plasters, rolls of bandages, gauze and disinfectant, Y/N's kit had become more dear to her than her mobile phone.
However upon opening her kit, she quickly noticed something in dismay. She had no plasters left, nor any bandages. Shaking the pouch upside down in feeble hopes that something useful would fall out, Y/N groaned. She tossed the empty pouch back into her bag and dropped her face into her hands with a groan.
She hardly noticed the quiet footsteps approaching her as he had a quiet breakdown on the concrete.
"Are you okay?"
Y/N jumped at the soft voice; she whipped her head up to see a boy she'd seen around in her class. She remembered his name was Chris - he looked worried, his brown eyes narrowed as he cocked his head to the side.
Instinctively, she twisted around so he couldn't possibly see the state of her knees. "I'm fine."
Chris wasn't convinced. He rubbed the nape of his neck, perplexed; he didn't want to pry, but he couldn't just walk away either. He wondered if perhaps she had fallen ⊠he saw how clumsy she was, even if she thought no one knew.
"Why are you on the floor?" Chris asked carefully. He moved a little closer to her; his eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of her knees. "Oh my ⊠that looks like it hurts. Are you sure you're okay?"
Y/N bit her lip. She was used to hiding her injuries away and biting her cheek to ignore the pain; her parents had made it very clear to her over the years that she was to get no sympathy from them with her injuries. Nor was she to make a fuss over them - she was to get up and pretend nothing had happened.
Y/N was convinced they wouldn't bat an eyelid if she was to fall off of a cliff. Not that she cared about their response either way.
"I'm fine," Y/N repeated, looking down. "Go home ⊠don't let me stop you."
"Hey, no," Chris plopped down beside the startled girl, crouching as he tried to get a better look at the girl's knees. He pulled an expressive face, one that an adult might give a child. Y/N was amused and she blinked up at him.
He suddenly stood back up again. He pulled his bag off and set it down on the ground beside the girl.
"Stay there," Chris said. "I'm leaving my bag here so you know I'll come back. Don't go anywhere."
Then he dashed off back the way he came, leaving a dumbfounded Y/N staring after him.
She had no choice but to stay now that he'd left his bag. Y/N peered down at it. She couldn't help but smile; it was fully black, animated keychains hanging off of the zip. Tiny enamel pins decorated the front pocket, and Y/N found herself leaning closer to inspect them out of interest. They were sports themed ⊠some had inscribings in the metal, depicting times and places. Y/N tilted her head to the side.
Were these from competitions?
Before she could ponder further, hurried footsteps made Y/N look up; Chris was jogging towards her, his hair flying in the breeze. He had a tiny bag clutched in his hand and it jangled lightly with his movements.
"I brought you some plasters," Chris said cheerfully, retrieving a small box from the bag. Then he frowned, looking around. His eyes lit up when he saw a tiny bench tucked away a few feet away. "Can you stand?"
"Yeah ⊠" Y/N nodded; she hoisted herself to her feet and immediately stumbled. She braced herself to fall again and was surprised when she felt a pair of warm arms around her shoulders and waist.
"Careful," Chris chuckled. "Did you twist your ankle?"
Circling her foot around, Y/N winced. She nodded. "I think so."
Chris adjusted his hold on her. He was careful in ensuring his hands didn't stray, and he gently held her waist with a firm but soft hold. "Just lean on me. There's a bench over there."
Unable to find a reason to object, Y/N couldn't do anything but lean on him like he said. With the help of Chris, Y/N limped and hopped until they reached the bench. Chris gently dusted fallen leaves off of the seat with his free hand before helping her sit down.
"Just how clumsy are you?" Chris joked, his eyes melting into tiny half moons as he jogged back to retrieve their bags. He placed them on the floor beside the bench before sitting next to Y/N. "Your poor tights!"
Y/N smiled at him. "I can't help it. I ⊠I always have plasters and bandages with me but I forgot to fill my kit up last time."
"Well, it's a good thing I walked past then, huh?" Chris grinned, reaching into the bag he had brought. He pulled out a small box, taking out individually wrapped antiseptic wipes from it. "Can I clean this up for you?"
Y/N blinked at him. She couldn't recall if anyone had ever helped her when she'd hurt herself before. For as long as she could remember, she was the one who tended to herself.
Her first instinct was to say no. That she could do it herself. But his face seemed so genuine and friendly that Y/N felt herself being swayed.
She swallowed as she nodded. Maybe she'd regret this later. Maybe she wouldn't.
Only time would tell.
"Okay," Y/N said.
Chris smiled. Then he laughed nervously, his nose turning red. "How am I supposed to do this? Your knees are so far away."
Y/N was surprised when she felt herself suddenly laugh at that. He was so frank that her guard suddenly began to drop, the caution that was making her shoulders stiff suddenly melting away.
"I could ⊠put them over yours?" Y/N suggested. Then she quickly dismissed the idea. "Or not. That's a bit weird."
"It is," Chris laughed, rubbing the nape of his neck. "But it would work. Go for it."
Y/N moved slightly; but then she stopped, sitting back again. She realised this was a bad idea; what if her skirt rolled down her thighs?
"Yeah ⊠I think I should just do it myself," Y/N suddenly said. She took the wipes out of Chris' hands and despite the boy's wide eyed gaze following her, she ripped one of them open and bent over.
But the bench was an awkward length; it was slightly too tall and made it difficult for her to attend to her injuries. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks with the effort, and she suddenly felt very light headed with the pain she was trying to ignore in her knees and her ankle.
"Y/N?" Chris' voice was gentle. "You're going to hurt yourself even more ⊠let me?"
She sat up again, inhaling deeply. She knew he was right; and she hated it.
"Can I?" Chris gestured to her legs. "I'll be careful."
Y/N nodded. She had barely spoken to him in the past, and she was mildly surprised at how respectful he was being towards her.
She moved slightly and Chris gently cupped a hand around both of her knees before swinging them up and over his thighs. His cheeks pink, he gently used his fingers to smooth the folded fabric of her skirt down her legs, making sure she was decent before he took the wipes again.
"This is so ⊠strange," Y/N suddenly burst into laughter. She was leaning back against a small wall, her legs in Chris' lap, in the middle of a quiet corner of the school grounds. "I don't even know you."
At that, Chris' shoulders shook with mirth. "Sure you do. You know my name is Chris and you know I like sports. What else is there to know?"
Y/N raised an eyebrow and he smiled as he pulled the wipe out of its packet.
"I saw you. Looking at the pins on my bag," Chris hummed. He grimaced then, looking down at her knees again as he hesitated pressing the wipe to her skin. "You know this is going to hurt, right?"
"Tell me something new," Y/N sniffed. "Something is always hurting."
Chris pulled a sad face at her. "Grab onto me if it gets too much okay?"
"And what is that gonna do?" Y/N asked.
Chris laughed. "I don't know. Don't they do that in the movies? It has to help somehow."
Y/N giggled under her breath. Her face broke into a soft smile as Chris bowed his head again, his hand fluttering around above her knee.
When he began to dab the disinfectant onto her wound, Y/N's intake of breath was sharp. She gasped as she sat up straight, her hand automatically shooting out. She curled her fingers around the sleeve of his shirt, heat from his bicep flooding up through her skin.
"Is that helping?" Chris asked, trying to distract her. His touch on her knees was so gentle that Y/N was sure he had to be some sort of strange fairy.
"Nope," Y/N breathed. She clutched at his shirt tighter. Chris laughed, a small dimple appearing in the side of his cheek.
Y/N cleared her throat, looking away. Her eyes landed on their bags clustered together on the floor. "Where are all your pins from?"
"They're from different competitions and matches," Chris explained. "I like collecting them. Like little memories."
"You're cute ⊠" Y/N couldn't help but say. But then she realised what she said and she yelped as Chris looked up at her with wide eyes. "I mean that's cute! You know ⊠the idea of them being memories."
"Oh!" Chris laughed and looked down again as his ears flushed beet red. "Yeah, I guess so."
He then leaned back and gathered up the dirty wipes. He shoved them into the empty packets and tossed them into the bin beside them. "Okay, worst part over. How are you?"
Y/N stared at him.
"I mean, how's the pain?" Chris corrected, gesturing to her knees. "Is it still bad? How's your ankle?"
"Ah ⊠no it feels a bit better I think," Y/N shook her head before leaning back again. She had no idea what was happening; she had begun to feel a little faint again, and Chris seemed to realise for his brows creased with worry.
"You're looking a little pale ⊠" He mused. He bent down and reached for his bag from which he pulled out a small packet. "Here, eat this."
Y/N looked down at it. "Mini cookies?"
"Everything tastes better when it's mini," Chris said. He pointed to the packet, his eyes a little stern. "Eat."
As Y/N opened the packet of cookies, Chris opened up a tube of thick looking cream. He squeezed it out onto his fingers before slathering the cooling medicine onto her knees. Y/N held the bag of chocolate chip cookies to him, shaking them in his direction.
"I can't," Chris said. He wiggled his fingers at her. "My fingers are drugged."
Y/N grinned. She reached into the packet and pulled one out before leaning closer to him. She held it out and Chris blinked rapidly at her in mild alarm before he used his teeth to take it out of her hand.
"Good boy," Y/N joked.
Chris snorted; he choked on a chocolate chip, his eyes bulging out of his head like a deranged goldfish as he coughed aggressively.
"What?" His voice was hoarse as he stared at the girl; her mouth was open in shock as she stared back.
"I don't know! You looked like a puppy or something," Y/N whined, rubbing her eyes. "Sorry."
"No, no, it's fine ⊠" Chris cleared his throat. He laughed again, turning away to hide his red face. "Just caught me off guard."
He pulled out two large, square shaped plasters from the bag and after methodically placing them over her knees, Chris smiled in satisfaction. "Can I see your foot?"
Now it was Y/N's turn to choke; she thumped her chest as Chris' hands hastily waved around in the air, trying to amend his words.
"Not like that!" He wheezed. "I meant your ankle ⊠I want to bandage it up so you don't strain it."
"Oh," Y/N sighed. She rubbed her face with a hand, completely flabbergasted. "Yes. Okay."
"Okay," Chris repeated with a chuckle. He carefully slid off her boot and then her sock. His eyes widened at the sight of the purple bruising around her ankle and the top of her foot, and he touched the swelling gently as his mouth fell open. "Y/N ⊠I don't think you twisted it. I think you sprained it."
Y/N groaned. "Again?"
"What do you mean again?" Chris hissed, shocked. "How often do you do this?"
Y/N hummed as Chris began to wrap a sturdy bandage around her foot. "I don't know. Every few months?"
"My gosh ⊠" Chris shook his head as he secured the bandage with another plaster. He replaced her sock and carefully placed her boot back on, lacing it up gently before throwing his rubbish away. "Well ⊠I'm not letting you walk home. I won't allow it."
"What else am I supposed to do, doctor Chris?" Y/N tutted, making the boy laugh. "Fly? One problem ⊠I don't have wings."
Grinning, Chris gently moved Y/N's legs before standing up. He then crouched on the floor with his back towards her, his hand stationed at his sides.
"Come on," Chris wiggled his hands. "I'll carry you."
"Are you joking?" Y/N squealed, embarrassed. "You can't carry me! I'm like ⊠really heavy."
"So?" Chris peered at her over his shoulder. "I don't work out for nothing, you know. Just get on."
"But ⊠Chris we don't know each other."
Chris tutted. "What did I just say? You know me perfectly well ⊠and I literally just saw your foot. I think we know each other as much as we possibly could."
Snorting with unexpected laughter, Y/N had no other choice. She carefully slid her arms around his neck, and once her legs were around his waist, Chris stood up. His hands rested below her thighs, and he grinned at her before he began walking.
---
Tag list ~ @koos-euphoria @raethethey @hugs4chan @hotmesshapa @manonblackbeak-trash @hendsernoodle @stanskzseungmin @ateez-babygirl @dalamjisung @dinosdawn @cookiemonstermusic258 @strwbrryfroyo @gazelle-des-pres @qtieskz @stigmvta @necromancersupreme @super-btstrash-posts @changlix-mp4 @exonations @changboobies @jeyelleohe @rae-blogging @planetdemon @dani41 @jumbocircus @octalalica @velvetand-roses @foivetimesacharm @anaaam @waverzzzzzzzz @peachy-flxwr @elizabeth11moreno @lenfilms @xhazmania @starshine-moon @justoutfromdead @snow-pegasus @lixiesbabyhands @bbychannie97 @laylasbunbunny @laceheartz @americanokisses @bluechans @bellamuerte1987 @meowmeowisdaname @chanssmiles @minunivers @septicrebel @bangchans-angel @spacegirlstuff (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)
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Hi! May I ask for angst/fluff request about Chris comforting his reader-best friend/long time crush crying after something serious? And, like, reader suddenly blurting out "I love you", Chan is very much thunderstruck but uses all his tenderness to confess back? First kiss is optional, but it'd be perfect.^^ ...if you both are comfortable writing about traumas and such kind of things, of course.:)
bestie. when i tell you this request was literally everything. like my brain started coming up with ideas the second i read it. i am absolutely obsessed with any angsty content, but especially angsty chan so i had such a good time writing this and it ended up being very self-indulgent. i really hope you like it ! thank you soooo much for this absolutely brilliant request!!
<3 abbie & courtney
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pairing: chan x gn!reader
genre: angst, fluff
word count: 2.2k
warning(s): panic attack, anxiety, insecurities, mild language, brief kissing
a knock sounds on the door of your apartment, but you don't even register it.
taking a gasping breath, you pull your knees even tighter to your chest, trying desperately to calm yourself, but another sob rips through you, robbing your lungs of air. you choke on it, head tipping back against the bathroom wall behind you. tears continue to run down your face in streams, your shirt already damp with them. you don't know how long you've been here, but it's been long enough that the bathroom is thick with steam from the running shower you never got into.
"hey! where are you? i brought pizza!" chris' voice breaks through the panicked haze clouding your senses. you blink a few times in an effort to refocus yourself while sniffling and trying to hold back the continued sobs you feel rising up your chest. but all you manage is a choked gasp before fresh sobs rack your body.Â
"you in the shower?" you hear chris' voice again when he knocks on the bathroom door and you furiously wipe at your eyes, but you know it's futile. there's no hiding the mess you are right now and knowing chris is about to see it only adds to your panic. he's been through situations like this with you a few times over the years of your friendship and he's always been incredibly helpful and comforting, but that doesn't stop you from always trying to hide it from him. it makes you feel like a burden. this is your issue, it shouldn't be his to deal with.Â
"well i'm coming in, so if you're not decent you better say something now or it's your fault that i see you nak--" his sentence cuts off as the door swings open and he sees you huddled on the floor against the wall. the playful grin on his face quickly fades into one of concern as he drops to his knees next to you. he immediately wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest, holding you tightly against him.Â
another sob clogs your throat and his hand moves to start softly stroking your hair while he tightens his embrace further. "it's okay, just breathe. just focus on your breathing. i've got you now."Â
he continues long after your sobs die down and your tears dry up, just holding you silently, letting his presence comfort you. finally, you pull away. his eyes scan your face quickly, giving you a once over to check that you are actually okay.Â
"thank you," you whisper, offering a small, shy smile.Â
"always," he says simply and the gentle smile on his face warms your heart even further. "do you wanna talk about it?"Â
with anyone else you would immediately say no, you hate opening up about yourself. but this is chris. your best friend. the person who has been there for everything for the last seven years. so, instead you simply nod in response.Â
"it's my mom."Â
he gives you a knowing look before settling back against the wall next to you, his arm pressed against yours. his warmth melts into you and you lean your head against his shoulder as you start talking, telling him about everything that occurred between you and your mom leading up to your panic attack.
as you recount the events of the last week tears spring to your eyes and roll silently down your cheeks. you can feel yourself relive everything as you tell the story, but somehow you manage to remain calm the entire time, your best friend's presence stabilizing you in a way that nothing else ever could. you don't ever feel yourself slip back into the previous state of panic. not when you talk about the manipulation, or the lying, or the blatant gas-lighting, or even when you explain the phone call from your mom that triggered the panic attack in the first place.Â
chris listens patiently the whole time, silently offering you the comfort and support he knows you need. when you finish your story the room goes silent for a moment before you hear him mumble a curse under his breath.
"i'm so sorry," he says, turning his head to look at you, "i'm sorry you're still dealing with all this shit from your mom. you don't deserve any of this. if there's anything i can do, literally anything, just say the word and i've got it."
your heart warms with how selfless and genuinely caring he always is and your lips tip up in a small smile. "thank you. really. thank you so much, i don't know what i would do without you."Â
"the feeling's mutual." he smiles back at you before standing up and offering you his hand to pull you up off the floor. "okay, now, how about you rinse off in the shower and then we can eat some pizza and watch a movie. i got your favorite."
"that sound's perfect. but....do you think.... maybe," you pick at the skin around your nails nervously, staring at the ground between your feet. your words die off in your mouth and you shake your head, abandoning your request before you even make it. "nevermind."
"what is it?"
"it's nothing, just nevermind." you continue picking at your nails until chris' warm hand envelopes both of yours, gently stopping you.Â
"what is it?"Â
"it's just.... could you maybe.... yould you stay? like obviously not in here, but would you mind sitting just outside? and i'll leave the door open? that way i can still talk to and hear you?" you feel a blush rising up your cheeks from your embarrassment. aaying it out loud makes you feel even more stupid then when you just thought it in your head. he probably thinks it's pathetic that you can't even take a shower by yourself.Â
"of course," he says immediately, "there's nothing i'd rather do." you sneak a glance at him, unsure if he is being genuine or just nice and find a soft smile on his face. he squeezes your hands gently. "really, i mean it."Â
how does he do that? it's like he always knows exactly what you're thinking.Â
he moves to the hall, sitting up against the wall right next to the door while you undress and get in the shower. he tells you all about his day while you scrub away the tears and sweat and snot from your breakdown. you don't respond to most of what he says, but he keeps on talking. he knows that what you need most in these situations is just to feel his presence, to know that he's there. so, you simply listen and let the comforting sounds of his familiar voice soothe you.Â
you turn off the shower, dry off, and get dressed while he continues to talk about random nonsense and you lose yourself in thoughts of him. you don't know how you survived without him. he's the most genuine person you know and so caring and selfless. he always knows exactly what you need, sometimes even before you know yourself. and he's so funny, you don't think anyone has ever made you laugh quite as much as he can. and he's just the greatest person you have ever met.
god, i'm so in love with you.Â
his words die off mid-sentence and you immediately realize what you accidentally just did.Â
"shit. i said that out loud didn't i? i didn't mean to say that. shit, i'm so sorry, ummmm... just... just pretend you never heard that." you lean against the bathroom wall, burying your head in your hands as embarrassment and fear take over. a million thoughts start to race through your head as silence fills the air around you.
you never meant to say that out loud to him. yes, you've been in love with him for a while now, but you were never going to admit it. that would ruin your friendship. and chris' friendship means the world to you. today is just one of the many examples of why you don't think you could survive without him. but then you had to accidentally blurt out the one thing that could change all that. "chris, i'm so so sorry. i didn't mean to say that out loud, i just-"Â
"you didn't mean to say it out loud, or you didn't mean to say it?" he cuts you off mid-sentence with an unexpected question that catches you completely off guard.Â
"what?"Â
"you didn't mean to say it out loud, or you didn't mean to say it?" he repeats himself, his voice much closer now. a moment later you feel him pulling your hands from face. the look in his eyes is intense in a way you've never seen before, as though your answer to his question is the most important thing he will ever hear. "which is it?"Â
"well, i-" you cut yourself off, unsure of whether to take the safe route and lie or bare the truth while risking jeopardizing your friendship. your decision doesn't end up really mattering because chris continues before you can make up your mind.Â
"because if you didn't mean to say it, i totally understand. it's been a long day full of a lot of emotions. all you have to do is say the word and we can just pretend it never happened."
even though you never meant to ever say those words aloud to him, the thought of taking them back now makes your heart ache.Â
"but if you did mean them.... if you really, truly meant them," he pauses for a moment and you watch his throat roll as he swallows. you can feel a slight tremor in the hands holding your face and you don't think you've ever seen chris so nervous. you reach up and place your hand over his, squeezing gently. you do it not only to reassure him, but also to give yourself some confidence for what you say next.Â
"i did."
the two words come out so quietly you're not sure if he'll even catch them. but when you hear him release a breath, you know he did. his hands slip down from your face to grip your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him.Â
"you have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that. because......i'm in love with you too. god, i've been in love with you for years. every time i ever made you laugh and i knew that broad, beautiful smile of yours was all for me, i fell harder. and every time i got to hold you in my arms while you cried and opened up about your darkest moments, i felt like the luckiest guy on earth."Â
your heart is racing and your mind is spinning from the confession that just poured from him. for a moment you don't respond. you just blink. you take a breath. you take a second to soak in the fact that this is really happening and not just a dream.Â
"i.... i don't know what to say.....i just can't believe that you've felt the same way all these years. i was so afraid to say anything because i was scared it would ruin our friendship."Â
you watch as he tips his head back against the wall and lets out a pained laugh. "god, that's the exact reason i never said anything! i have been madly in love with you for so long, but the last seven years of friendship with you have been the best years of my life and i refused to give that up."
he pulls you even closer before reaching up and gently grasping your face again, one thumb softly brushing against your cheekbone. he leans in ever so slightly and you feel your heart jump into your throat. "i'm going to kiss you now because if i don't get to kiss you in the next five seconds after all these years of waiting i think i might die. so, if you don't want me to you better say something now or else--"Â
"just kiss me chris"
the words have barely left your mouth before he closes the small space between you and presses his lips to yours.Â
your mouths intertwine and you marvel at how soft his lips feel moving against yours. the kiss is new and exciting, something you've been waiting for. but it also feels familiar, as if you were always meant to be kissing him.Â
after a few moments he gently pulls away and kisses your forehead before resting his own against it. a comfortable silence envelopes you both as you soak in what just happened.Â
"did we really just have our first kiss in a bathroom?" you wonder aloud. chris chuckles softly in response and you feel his chest rumble against yours as he pulls you even closer. he wraps his arms tightly around your waist as he dips his head to whisper softly in your ear.Â
"have i ever told you that i'm so in love with you."
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Valentine's Don't
Bang Chan x Female reader
Word count: 4k
Synopsis: Sick of spending every Valentine's Day in a rut you impulsively ask a cute guy at the bar to go out with you. Will your plan to meet up backfire in your face?
A/N: This was a wonderful idea brought to me by one of my sweet friends. I'm not sure if they want to be named but they know who they are. I loved this idea as soon as I heard it! I was hoping to have it all done in one part for Valentine's Day but couldn't quite make it. Oh well. Hope you all enjoy! If you do please like, comment, share, shoot an ask, I love to hear from you all! Also there is no smut in this part but there will be in part 2.

Warnings: None really. Swearing/strong language, drinking/mentions of alcohol. That's it I think. If I missed something let me know!

Why, why did you let your friend talk you into coming to the bar one week before Valentineâs Day? You always hated the âholidayâ ever since elementary school. It was just a popularity contest that you never won, hell you never even placed. Now you were at the bar alone, ditched by your friend that made you come out in the first place when the first halfway cute guy approached her. Not that you blamed her. If a halfway hot guy approached you right now you probably wouldnât be so bitter but alas you clearly werenât winning any popularity contests still. Which may be your fault, you were not always the most approachable person, but your past had taught you to be guarded.Â
âHow many times a day do you get told your gorgeous, it's gotta be in the double digits.â He turned towards you smiling and his ears instantly turned red.Â
You were working on your third drink since your friend had disappeared and after you emptied the glass you happened to catch a look at a guy from across the bar. He was way beyond halfway hot he was scorching, fire, lava. Whatâs hotter than lava? He was that! He looked away when the two of you made eye contact.
Had he been looking at you? Only one way to find out. Tipsy you was about to make a big move because why the fuck not at this rate? The worst he could do was say no, well no, the worst he could do was laugh in your face and tell you youâre dumb and ugly. You were going out on a limb that he wasnât the type to say that. You approached him with all the BDE you could muster.Â
âProbably about half as much as you do.â You grimaced.Â
âYikes. That bad huh?â He laughed at the jab you took at yourself not realizing it was one hundred percent true. No one ever walked up to you let alone walked up and told you you were gorgeous. Maybe it was the âdonât fuck with meâ look that had a way of unintentionally appearing on your face or maybe they thought... you were hit with a realization you, for some stupid reason, hadnât considered before approaching himÂ
âOh wait, oh shit, Iâm sorry you have a girlfriend donât you. Iâm so sorr-â He shook his head.Â
âNo no. Youâre fine I donât have a girlfriend.â You quirked an eyebrow.Â
âBoyfriend?â He laughed so hard his dimples appeared.Â
âNo boyfriend either no, Iâm single.â You nodded.Â
âSo do you come to this bar a lot?â he wiggled his hand back and forth.Â
âSometimes, some of my friends are in the band.âÂ
âWhat about next Tuesday?â It was so random, and you asked so quickly it caught him off guard.Â
âOh uh...â He thought for a moment.Â
âOhhh isnât that Valen-â You waved and shook your head.Â
âYea okay look Iâm gonna give it to you straight is that okay?â You legitimately waited for his reply, and he nodded. Just lay it all out for him, fuck it.Â
âYouâre probably the prettiest person Iâve ever seen in my life, and I donât even know your name, but I have never had a good Valentineâs Day, Iâm always angry and alone. I donât want another repeat, Iâm sick to death of it, for once Iâd like to go out with a cute guy and actually enjoy the stupid holiday. So here it is, Iâm going to come to this bar at 7 pm February 14th. If you think spending Valentineâs with me might be fun, meet me here. If you donât, well then, no hard feelings.â You turned to walk away, and he caught your hand to stop you.Â
âChris...â You looked at him confused.Â
âMy name...itâs Chris...â You smiled and nodded then turned and headed straight out of the bar. You would text your friend to tell her you left, you had to go after that move. As soon as you were out the door you were mentally kicking yourself. God that must have seemed so desperate, you hoped it came off as confident. Ugh why did you do that!? Â
Every day that week up until Valentineâs Day you went back and forth between freaking out and trying to be optimistic. He did laugh and heâd told you his name, but you were never very good at being optimistic. Your internal monolog was louder. âHe could have been laughing at you not with you, Chris is so generic he probably said the first name that came to mind.â Then you would be back to freaking out again.Â
âHey! Uh... wait hey!â The voice sounded like it was getting closer and closer. Whoever they were looking for was evidently in your direction.Â
Valentineâs Day. You had decided you were going to go, now all you had to do was muster up that same BDE that youâd had when you asked him out in the first place. You dressed nicely but not too fancy, put on a little make up and just threw your hair up, a few of those stubborn pieces refusing to stay put, falling around your face. Your nerves started to get to you again, and that voice. âNo sense in trying too hard, he wonât be coming.â
You second guessed even going yourself and you had just about talked yourself out of it, then you saw yourself in the mirror. You had put in a little effort to look nice already, you could at least go and have a drink then leave when he doesnât show. No one would know the difference anyway. Â
So you were sitting there at the bar about halfway through your first drink, you were trying to pace yourself, but when you looked at the clock and saw seven fifteen you downed the rest of your glass and signaled to the bar tender for another.
At seven thirty and two drinks down, you decided you would rather get drunk at home alone than in a bar full of couples groping each other while wearing literal heart eyes. You threw some cash down on the bar and went to leave. As you were making your way through the sea of people you could hear someone from the crowd behind you calling for someone.Â
âWait! Fucking hell, I... I donât know your name... fuck. Hey gorgeous!â For some reason that struck you and made you turn. When you did you saw that the person who had been yelling was in fact yelling for you and that person was Chris. You must have looked shocked when he walked up.Â
âIâm so sorry Iâm late I was taking care of something really important and it took me a little longer than I thought it would.â You still stood there stunned. He actually came? You shook the cobwebs in your brain loose and remembered how to speak.Â
âOh, uh no thatâs fine, I just figured...â He frowned a little.Â
âI was standing you up? Sorry, Iâd have texted and told you, but I didnât know your number, or your name...â He chuckled rubbing the back of his neck.Â
âNo really it's okay, did you want to grab a drink?â He shook his head.Â
âWe should probably get going if weâre going to make our dinner reservations.â You stood there stunned again.Â
âD-dinner?â He laughed, his eyes scrunched and his dimples showed.Â
âYes, dinner. Itâs Valentineâs Day and Iâm taking a cute girl out to dinner.â You started giggling like a teenaged girl talking to her crush. Your giggle transformed into a cough as you cleared your throat, trying to maintain your cool façade from the week before.Â
âRight of course dinner. Letâs go then.â Chris smiled and placed his hand on the small of your back. You wished it didnât send a shiver up your spine. God you were touch starved. Chris led you out of the bar and to his car, opening the door for you. Right at that very moment you actually stopped and thought for a second. What you were doing seemed so crazy you hadnât told any of your friends. Cute or not, no one knew you were meeting this guy and you were about to climb in his car. You hesitated getting in.Â
âYouâre not some serial killer, are you? If I ask and you are, you have to tell, thatâs the rule.â Chris laughed with his whole body. You really liked his laugh; it was warm and made you smile. Â
âI think thatâs for undercover police but no, Iâm not a serial killer.â You nodded side eyeing him.Â
âThatâs exactly what Iâd expect an undercover cop to say.â Tears were in his eyes, every time he thought he had a hold of himself you had him laughing again. What Chris didnât realize was humor was your security blanket when you were nervous. It was kind of hard for you to make friends, it wasnât easy for you to open up and be vulnerable enough for people to really get to know you. When you did make friends it was usually because you made them laugh, so that was your go to safety net when you werenât sure if being yourself was okay. Â
After a short ride you pulled up to a small restaurant. The only way it stood out was the neon sign with its name in cursive. You could blink and miss it. When Chris led you into the dimly lit restaurant you could hear salsa music playing. There was limited seating and a dance floor took up quite a bit of space. The only time you had ever danced was at prom and that was more shuffling back and forth while being groped than it was actually dancing. Â
âWe donât have to dance. I picked this place because they have great food and music, the dancing is optional.â He must have picked up on your immediate apprehension.Â
âWe can dance.â The fuck were you saying?Â
âLooks fun.â FUN!? Oh God why was your overzealous mouth sabotaging you like that.Â
âReally?â He asked surprised and you noddedÂ
âYea really!â âYea reallyâ you mocked yourself in your head as you continued to speak without thinking.Â
âThatâs great, I used to be a dancer. I donât get to do it very often anymore.â Of course he used to be a dancer, look at him. Making an ass out of yourself in front of a hot amateur wasnât enough, go ahead and make a fool of yourself in front of a hot professional instead. Â
âYou used to be a dancer?â That was in fact what he said. Braindead much? He nodded and suddenly your mouth was overriding your brain again.Â
âExotic?â Chris laughed shaking his head.Â
âYou know someone in the band here too?â You asked sarcastically and sipped your drink. His dimples appeared again.Â
âNo no, mostly hip hop but some contemporary and ballroom as well.â Fantastic. You dropped the subject as you made it to the table. Maybe it wouldnât come up again. Once you were both seated and your drinks were ordered you started to loosen up a bit. You had a little small talk, but you still didnât open up about yourself.
Chris was friendly and open. He struck you as the type that never met a stranger. You both ordered your food and he was right, the meal was delicious. The music was good, and he was pleasant to talk to also. After you ate you both sat there listening to the band. Chris smiled and tapped his toe along with the rhythm. Â
âYes actually.â You almost spit your drink out.Â
âReally?!â He nodded smiling ear to ear and pointed.Â
âSee the buff dude playing drums?â You shook your head.Â
âThatâs my friend Changbin, he fills in here sometimes, but he usually plays at the bar where we met.â Then you recognized him, you had seen him playing at the bar before.Â
âSo how about that dance.â You laughed nervously. You really hoped heâd forgotten about that.Â
âArenât you supposed to wait twenty minutes before dancing after a meal?â Chris shook his head laughing again. You really liked his laugh.Â
âIâm pretty sure thatâs swimming but if you donât want to-â You quickly shook your head.Â
âNo, I want to!â Internal face palm. Way to not take the out he gave you genius.Â
âYou sure?â You nodded. There you go! Double down on your chance to look stupid, why not?Â
âGreat come on!â He held out his hand and you took it. As he led you towards the dance floor your heartbeat got louder and louder in your ears, you almost couldnât hear the music. When he turned to face you, you had no idea what to do. Chris picked up on that pretty quickly if he didnât know outright from the start. He pulled you closer by your hips, then he placed your hands on his shoulders before grabbing your hips again.Â
âJust follow my lead.â You gave him a small smile and shook your head as he started to sway both of your hips to the beat of the music. Â
âThere you go, now look at me.â Your eyes had been glued to your feet. Two of Chrisâ fingers placed under your chin tilted your head up to look him in the eye.Â
âPerfect. Gorgeous.â You could feel yourself starting to flush.Â
âNow when I take a step forward you take a step back and when I take a step back you take one forward. Itâs easy.â He took a step back and you followed taking a step forward. Chrisâ hips swiveled to the rhythm as he took a step forward and you back.Â
âA natural!â You bit back the smile trying to force its way out.Â
âSo why do you hate Valentineâs Day?â He suddenly broke the silence between you. You looked up and shrugged your shoulders opting to look over his shoulder and not in his eyes as you attempted to be a little open.Â
âYea a natural disaster, just like a tornado.â You scoffed and Chris laughed. You made it through the first song only stepping on his toes a few times, then a slower more sultry song started.
Chris pulled you closer, your hips almost pressed together, you didnât think your face could burn any hotter when his hips started swaying with yours, his arms around your waist, yours wrapped around his shoulders. You bravely toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck while watching your feet again. When you did, he started rubbing his thumbs gently against your lower back making your skin erupt in goosebumps. Â
âMight as well be Friday the thirteenth to me. Itâs just never been a good day, I dunno. Break ups always seemed to happen around that time for me, I always end up alone. When I caught my last boyfriend cheating on me on Valentine's Day that just kind of sealed the deal for me.âÂ
âHow long ago was that?â You just shook your head. It had been years but you had given up on finding someone, trying to be content in your loneliness. This stupid holiday just always got to you. You finally willed yourself to look at him, Chris gave you a tight smile. Â
âSorry.â You shook your head and tried to laugh it off putting up the wall again.Â
âWhat are you sorry for? Itâs just some corporate holiday to make money off saps. Itâs not that big of a deal really.â You looked back over his shoulder again focusing on the wall behind him hoping he wouldnât press the matter as you tried to hide the overwhelming sadness you felt suddenly. He didnât thankfully and you finished dancing to the song in silence. Â Â
âCome on let's get out of here.âÂ
âWhere to?â Chris shook his head.Â
âNnnope, itâs a surprise and why I was late. I hope that it makes up for it.â Â
âYouâve already more than made up for it just by coming at all Chris. Thanks.â He smiled and his hand braced the small of your back as you both got your things and left the restaurant. Once you both were in the car and on your way a silence hung between you again and that internal monolog of yours came back. âYou sounded desperate before now you sound sad and des-â As if Chris could sense the spiraling thoughts in your head, he finally broke the silence.Â
âSo Valentineâs Day is a bust holiday for you, whatâs your favorite?â You thought about his question and then shook your head not wanting to give him the sad answer.Â
âCome on you can tell me, please?â He pushed his bottom lip out and it was too cute not to give into.Â
âHalloween was my favorite when I was a kid.â Chris smiled.Â
âAll the candy is pretty awesome.â You shook your head.Â
âNo, I mean yeah, the candy was great, but I liked it because I was able to be someone else for a day, anyone else. I donât know just someone that wasnât me.â Chrisâ brow furrowed.Â
âWhy wouldnât you want to be you?â Chris was pulling up to an iron fence and parking as he asked. You couldnât help your attention suddenly being drawn to your surroundings.Â
âJust because I... uh Chris why are we at a cemetery?â He shook his head.Â
âItâs not a cemetery itâs a botanical garden. A friend...â Â
âPlays in the band here too?â He laughed, that warm sweet laugh of his.Â
âNo no they run the place though and when they closed at seven I met her and got the keys to the place. Which is why I was so late. Sorry again about that.â You shook your head, you were shocked. If Chris put so much effort into a Valentineâs date with a total stranger he must be a really good friend. You hoped after that night you could be friends. Â
âChris... I... just... you did all of this for me? Dinner? This garden? For me?â You were genuinely confused because you had never met anyone like him before, as beautiful inside as he was outside. Your cool façade was melting, you had no joke or punchline.Â
He unlocked the gate and led you into the garden. It was kind of hard to see just at first then Chris disappeared for a second and the next thing you knew hundreds of thousands of twinkle lights lit up the whole garden. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Suddenly Chris was by your side again startling you.
You turned to him with your hand still over your heart. When you looked up at him you couldnât speak. He was beautiful, you knew that, anyone with eyes knew that, but with the lights and the garden, his smile that scrunched up his eyes, he was stunning, hence the speechlessness. Finally you forced yourself to form words.Â
âWell itâs not like I strung up all the lights or anything, but yeah! I know itâs not much-â You kissed him. You threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed him and he kissed you back. It was a soft innocent kiss, a thank you, that words alone couldnât convey.Â
âThank you.â You whispered as you pulled back with your eyes closed. He tasted like mint and smelled like the woods.Â
âUm, heh, uh why donât I show you around the place hm?â You nodded and Chris grabbed your hand and started to lead you through the garden. You both walked quietly for some time looking at all the beautiful flowers and reading different descriptions before Chrisâ voice cut through the silence.Â
âYouâre welcome-â His voice was a breath; he cupped your face and immediately kissed you again. There was more passion behind his lips the second time, his hands cradled your face as he tilted his head, his plump lips slightly parting to taste more of yours. You followed, your lips parting, head tilting. Chrisâ tongue gently invaded your mouth, teasing yours.
You toyed with the curls at his neck again as the two of you slowly, softly kissed. Chris let go of your face and wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer. After a moment you two broke the kiss, having to breathe being your only reason. You both stood there flushed, chests rapidly rising and falling with heavy breaths, arms wrapped around one another. He chewed at his bottom lip and smiled at you, forcing a small smile onto your face.Â
âYou know you really are gorgeous.â It caught you off guard. You must have looked shocked. You had been looking at flowers, but Chris had really only been looking at you this whole time.Â
âW-what makes you say that?â He stopped walking and turned to you, grabbing your other hand holding both in his own.Â
âBecause you are and because I really want to kiss you again.â Before you could even think of how to reply to that Chrisâ lips were softly pressed against yours again, his fingers threading through your hair. You gripped the front of his shirt and kissed him back, things getting heated rather quickly between the two of you. Finally Chris broke away apologizing.Â
âIâm sorry Iâm sorry Iâm... uhh, Iâm trying to be respectful, just... when I kiss you...â He wasnât even sure of what he was trying to say.Â
âItâs okay Chris...â You pulled him closer by his shirt and kissed him again both of you getting lost in the other momentarily. When your lips parted again you both started laughing.Â
âHow about I get you home?â Chris chuckled and you nodded, smiling the biggest smile you had in the longest time. You walked back out of the garden the way you came in so Chris could turn off the lights and lock back up. You both hopped in his car, you gave him directions to your place, and you were off. The car ride there was accompanied by some soft music Chris had put on. Once you got to your place Chris parked the car.Â
âHold on lâll get your door.â Before you could insist that it was unnecessary, he was out of the car making his way around to your side. He opened the door and helped you out. He kept a hold of your hand the whole way to your front door. You fished your keys out and stood there a moment.Â
âThis has been the best Valentineâs Day Chris. Thank you.â You couldnât look at him only your feet, you felt so vulnerable at that moment. Chris traced the back of his fingers along your cheek, you tilted your head up and he leaned in and kissed you goodnight. Â
âThank you for inviting me to spend the evening with you.â Just before you opened your front door Chris cleared his throat. You turned and looked at him confused.Â
âWell I was just wondering I mean... Iâd like to take you out again some time if thatâs alright?â You nodded smiling.Â
âIâd really like that Chris.â He stood there for a moment like he was still waiting for something more.Â
âWould it be okay if I got your number?â He handed you his phone as you laughed.Â
âOf course, I wasnât even thinking!â You typed your number in and hit call. Your phone started ringing and you hung up.Â
âThere now Iâve got yours too.â You handed Chris back his phone.Â
âJust one more thing?â You stood there waiting for his final request from you perhaps another goodnight kiss.Â
âWhatâs your name?â Oh holy shit, you had gone this whole evening and not once did you bother mentioning your name!Â
âOh my god Chris Iâm so sorry!â He laughed then you leaned in and kissed him, your lips slightly parted from his.Â
ây/n.â He nodded and gave you one more peck on the lips smiling.Â
ây/n... gorgeous.âÂ
@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh
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strawberry cheesecake
pairing: non-idol?han x gn!reader [reader has a uterus/is menstruating]
word count: 1.0k~
warnings: menstruation tw. food tw. this was meant to be non-idol but honestly read it however you like, idc. reader gets kind of emotional bc have you ever had really good food when ur having a bad day? its healing. also this isnt proofread.
daisyâs notes: oh to have a cute boy and enjoy cheesecake w him and then take a lil nap while being comforted⊠han would understand me on the cheesecake part. he would. also this has been sitting in my drafts for three months. be free.
âOh, hey! Sorry to bother you, but, uh⊠Why did Jisung tear ass out of here like⊠maybe ten minutes ago?â
Continuar a ler
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I loveeeee love LOVE that last Binnie thing omg my baby
Could you write something like it's the next day and he's sleeping in and you got up to make breakfast for him because big boy needs to eat a lot to maintain those muscles and he wakes up all grumpy because you were not in bed but then he's all shocked that you made him breakfast??
Lmao I'm so weak for him, yes I'll do the cooking yes I'll do the cleaning đ§đ»ââïžđ§đ»ââïžđ§đ»ââïž
tysm hun! âč3
FLUFF BELOW CUT â MDNI
part one
warnings: gn!reader, mentions of the gym & food, changbin is soft af, this is just sickeningly sweet :)
10:10 am. your eyes slowly peel open, squinting in the harsh morning light. you bring a fist up to your eye, softly rubbing the sleep away. you let out a yawn slowly sitting up to look down at your sleeping lover.
flat on his stomach, head turned to you. his arm bent just above his head showing off his biceps. his lips parted as soft snores escape his lips, duvet covering his bottom half, his curly hair tousled and face puffy with sleep.
you melt. sure, changbin is very attractive, but seeing him in his natural, sleeping state where he is at his most vulnerable â is beautiful to you.
you slowly shuffle out off bed, feet hitting the cold wood floor. you walk out of the bedroom, closing the door slowly behind you. you do your usual bathroom routine before settling on cooking you and changbin some breakfast.
you know changbin inside and out. you've been living with him for two years now so you know his morning routine by now. that also means you know what he likes to eat in the morning.
changbin would typically wake up, get dressed for the gym, have a big breakfast stacked with protein and nutrients before heading off for the gym for an hour.
you start by cooking him some breakfast, boiling a pot of water for your tea/coffee. whilst cooking, changbin stirs in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open.
he groans softly, reaching out to the side as he expects you to be there for him to be disappointed when his hand comes into contact with your cold side. he sits up, brows furrowing together as his bottom lip sticks in a pout.
changbin cannot start his day off right without a cuddle with his fave person!
feeling himself get grumpy, he gets out off bed. he ruffles his hair, walking out of the bedroom. the smell of breakfast hitting his nostrils, his grumpiness disappearing as he approaches the kitchen.
his heart melts as he watches you cook for him, plating his plate high with food before making his protein shake. he sighs softly to himself, making a mental note to buy an engagement ring on the way back from the gym.
he walks behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.
âoh! morning sleepy head.â you giggle, looking at the clock that's hung on the wall. âor should I say afternoon?â
âi slept that long?â changbin mumbles. you hum softly, nodding.
âi think you needed it bin. did you sleep well?â
âmhm, I did. although, I was sad to see my darling wasn't with me when I woke up.â
âim sorry love. I wanted to make you breakfast before you go to the gym.â
âyou did all this? for me?â changbin's heart beating against his ribcage, his body melting against you. you nod slowly and giggle.
âof course darling! cooked to perfection, just how you like it!â
âfuck y/n.â changbin gently spins you around so you're facing him. you blush softly, changbin tracing your jawline with his finger before placing his hand on your cheek gently. âmarriage material.â
âoh hush bin.â you flush pink as Changbin leans in slowly, pressing his lips against yours gently in a sweet and delicate kiss.
ânever.â
â TAGS [open]: @chaneomma | @sstarryoong | @laylasbunbunny | @oshimee | @septicrebel | @bbujiikseu | @cixrosie
â m.list â â tell me what you think here!
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in my dreams

sweet night - taehyung (bts)
genre: fluff
âChan, stop it!!! My whole head is covered in snow now, and my pretty hairstyle is ruined â
âoh noooo, Iâm so sorryâŠâ he threw all of the snow in his hands away, coming closer to you âlet me fix itâ
He placed his big, cold from the snow hands on your hair.
âI like when your hair looks a little messyâ he giggled, making his face even prettier with the smile on it. âI really donât care if you have braids, a ponytail, or a fresh blowout, I like your hair in its natural wayâ
You were confused and didnât get what the reason for such an unexpected dialogue was.
âWhat are you talking about?â you paused, raising one of your brows up, â I thought you were just gonna take all the snow from my hairâ
He suddenly took his hands off your head and looked at you, lowering his head to match your face. âI wanted to say that I donât want you to be perfect, and worry about how your hair looksâ
You froze, looking him right in the eyes. his eyes. His eyes look like they have a whole universe in them. His eyes look at you with such love and warmth.
 Millions of thoughts were travelling in your head, trying to come up with what to say to him. Why all of a sudden your snow battle turned into something like this?!
 âI always see how you are trying to look good, spending time on your makeup, your hair, and your outfitâ, without breaking eye contact, he continued âbut I want you to feel comfortable around me even without doing all of these things. You look beautiful just the way you are. So, when I said I liked your hair in its natural way, I meant that I like you just for you, not for your looks.â
You still couldnât believe that someone like Chan was in love with you. He is standing here, right in front of you, telling you the most precious things someone has ever told you.
Your eyes immediately became watery and a few teardrops fell on your cheek.
Chan didnât expect you to react like this, even though he knew how sensitive you were.
He quickly wiped off your tears with his thumb and asked you to look at him.
You hesitated because you were sure that if you did so you would burst into tears, which wasnât something you wanted.
Chan didnât want to force you to do it; instead, he just embraced you, placing one of his hands on your head, and the other on your waist.
The smell of his cologne made you feel like you were dreaming. You didnât hear anything around. Just the sound of Chanâs heart, pounding so fast that you thought it would just jump out of his chest.
âI love youâ
âI love youâŠâ his voice was shaking when saying this âyou truly mean so much to me and I can not imagine you not being with meâ. He hugged you more tightly like he was protecting the most wanted treasure in the world.
âI really donât want to sound clichĂ© with all what Iâm saying nowâŠâ
You unexpectedly broke the hug, lifting your head up in order to catch chanâs eyes. Even though he wasnât smiling you could clearly see the pure joy in his eyes. His dark, brown eyes were telling you everything chan himself couldnât say.
âI love you, chan,â you said it with such warmth in your voice. âI really do mean itâ
Two of you couldnât stop smiling, while both of your faces were painted in such a vivid red colour. Maybe it was the cold weather that made them like this, or maybe it was the feeling of love you two were filled with.
Chan came closer to you one more time, reaching his hand to your head âso, should I get all of the snowflakes from your hair as we have planned?â he smiled.
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