greyyeti

[greyyeti]

🥹🥹🥹

ᯓ★ 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆ 𓆩𓆪 ⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

͙͘͡★ Genre: Idol!au, angst, fluff

͙͘͡★ Warnings: Self appreciation issues (Chris)

͙͘͡★ Characters: Chris, Y/N (ft. Jeongin)

͙͘͡★ Word Count: 2.8k

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Complete silence engulfed Y/N when she stepped inside. It was, after all, nearly two in the morning; the living room was cloaked in shadows, the faintest sliver of moonlight outlining the sofas and cabinets with the essence of ivory. She was extra careful when slipping her key back into her pocket before padding around the furniture, heading towards the door at the other end. Through the faint crack between the bottom of the door and the floor, Y/N could make out a faint sliver of light, and she hesitated. She retreated and turned towards the kitchen instead.

Y/N knew Chris was awake, no doubt lost in the depths of the maze of his own mind - a place she found him in more often than she could count. She found two of the largest mugs in Chris and Jeongin's cupboards, and looking at both of the mugs, Y/N chewed her lower lip. 

Y/N: Are you awake?? 

Yenie 👵: Creepy question. But yes. I'm awake

Y/N: Do you want some hot chocolate?

Yenie 👵: You're here???

Yenie 👵: I didn't hear you 😧

Y/N: 😏😏😏

Yenie 👵: I would

Yenie 👵: Like some 

Yenie 👵: Please

Reaching for a third fat mug, Y/N soon stirred up a steaming batch of hot chocolate, its fragrant warmth thawing the cold she had brought with her from outside. She sprinkled some extra chocolate onto the froth before making her way to the Jeongin's bedroom, knocking softly on the door.

“Is that my hot chocolate?” Jeongin called out, and Y/N laughed to herself as she pushed open his door. He was laying upside down on his bed, a thick headband pushing his hair up in spikes away from his forehead. A creamy coloured sheet mask hid his features, and Y/N almost jumped at the sight of him, making him grin devilishly as his head hung off the end of his bed.

“Where do you want me to put it?” Y/N asked with a smile.

Jeongin sat up then, crossing his legs underneath him as he reached for the mug. 

“Thanks,” Jeongin pulled a funny face at her before taking a sip. He exhaled before taking another, and Y/N crossed her arms, satisfied.

“Good?”

Jeongin nodded. “Are you here to see Channie hyung?”

Y/N nodded. “How is he?”

“You haven't seen him yet?”

“Nope. Thought I'd make hot chocolate first.” 

Jeongin grimaced. “Good luck.”

Laughing, Y/N cocked her head at him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Thanks for the hot chocolate,” Jeongin flicked his thumb up at her in response, making her grin. “Get out.” 

“Wow, okay,” Y/N giggled, and she moved towards the door. “Goodnight?”

Jeongin's eyes sparkled. “Goodnight.” 

Chris's room was as neat and tidy as ever; the carefully thought out light systems that adorned the walls were glowing on their lowest setting, blanketing the space with a gentle ambiance. Light waves of cedar and vanilla and the familiar sweetness of skin musk enveloped Y/N with a welcoming caress as she quietly shut the door behind her. She couldn't help but notice the bed in the middle. Its sheets were pristine and completely crease free. The woman lightly shook her head to herself with a near silent sigh as her gaze travelled to Chris who was sitting at his windowsill, head against the glass. His face was tilted up as she had guessed it would be, moonlight spilling onto his ethereal features as he blinked up at the giant light in the sky in silent wonder. He turned a moment later as if sensing a change in the atmosphere behind him, and faint surprise flickered in his eyes before melting and turning into the quietest of relief. 

“You should have told me you were coming,” Chris's voice was low as Y/N moved towards him. She slid an arm around his strong shoulders after depositing one of the mugs into his chilled hands, and the man immediately dropped his head against her stomach as his eyes fluttered shut. “Mmm … coulda picked you up.” 

At that, Y/N smiled. She rubbed his shoulder softly, coaxing a gentle grunt out of him. “And miss seeing you sitting here brooding like a lone wolf? No thanks.” 

Chuckling under his breath, Chris looked up at her. “I missed you. Thanks for the drink.” 

She hummed in acknowledgement. “I missed you,” Y/N whispered back as she traced her fingers over his face. He leaned into her touch; her palm was warm on his cheek, and Y/N brushed her thumb over his jaw as she pressed a tender kiss to his temple. “Your bed's all made up. Again.” 

Chris wrinkled his nose. He looked down and reached for Y/N's hand, entwining their fingers. He gently tugged and signalled for her to sit down with him. So she did, settling herself beside him as his gaze returned to the window.

“Bed’s uncomfy,” Chris said quietly, leaning his head against the window pain. His eyes were hooded; they followed the movement outside slowly, the rich brown orbs flashing with flickers of cherry and amber as vehicles travelled down the roads. They looked almost like toy cars from here, each one whizzing down the matching slender roads. “Been uncomfy for weeks now … “ 

Sitting with her back against the opposite wall to where Chris leaned, Y/N turned her gaze onto him. The planes of his face were angular, sharp under the night's blue shroud; she caught them softening ever so slightly when he returned her look, and the mild furrow between his brows dissolved a fraction. 

The woman sighed lightly. She knew what he was thinking, what it was that he was feeling; Chris always missed his home, but his heart had been aching for the vast fields and fresh air more than usual lately. It broke Y/N's heart knowing that she couldn't do anything about it. If Y/N had her way, she would fly him home and make him stay there. But Chris was stubborn, and she knew his career currently had its claws into the forefront of the man's mind. 

“I bet Berry keeps your bed warm every night,” Y/N said. 

Chris's eyes watered. 

Y/N's smile was gentle as she looked at him over the rim of her mug. “If I steal the Opera House and put it outside your window, will you sleep?”

There it was - that deep, throaty chuckle that set Y/N's marrow alight. The man adjusted a little, his head tilting back against the wall as he looked at her through his slitted eyes, the shadows making them glisten like discs of onyx. 

“You're funny,” Chris huffed. 

“I know.” 

He smiled then, his thumb tracing over the back of her hand in the minimal space between them. “Home doesn't feel so far away when you're here.”

Y/N's eyes lit up her entire face. They crinkled in response to his words, and Chris raised their entwined hands slowly before pressing the warmth of his lips to her knuckles. 

But his eyes returned with the distant look he had sported a mere few moments ago, and Y/N frowned. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Chris blinked. “Hmm?” 

“I asked what you were thinking about,” Y/N let out a soft puff of laughter. “You okay?” 

“Mmm … “ Chris nodded, blinking again as if to clear whatever cobwebs had draped themselves over the inner depths of his mind. 

Y/N squeezed his hand. “Just one of those nights, huh?”

He nodded again. 

“Well, that's okay,” Y/N hummed as she looked up at the navy clouds. “You don't have to force yourself to be happy all the time. Sometimes it's good to just … let yourself be sad.”

Chris smiled, the corners of his pretty mouth curling up at the corners. “I love that about you, you know? You let me sulk.” 

Y/N grinned. “Maybe it's for my own selfish reasons. You're adorable when you sulk.” 

Her words made Chris chuckle under his breath. He sat up then, and he wriggled closer to her, his bare shoulder bumping hers in gentle greeting. The lights below them shone against the raindrop stained window and reflected against the pits of the man's eyes as he looked at her, turning them into multidimensional jewels that sparkled when he smiled. Y/N found herself automatically leaning closer to him, her cheek brushing the curve of his shoulder as she dropped a lingering kiss to his skin there. 

Chris reached for her hand again, tangling their fingers in his lap. For a while, they were both silent, watching the cars move in the distance as they sipped their hot chocolate. Then Chris spoke, and his voice was so quiet yet so full of emotion that Y/N's chest twinged. 

“What do you reckon it'd feel like if everyone in the whole world liked you?”

It was Y/N's turn to blink. She surveyed Chris's face, taking in the pure vulnerability laid out on his sculpted features.

“Is that what's been bothering you?” she asked softly. 

He shrugged again. He shook his head, his nose wrinkling a little. “Nah.” And then, “But … don't you think it'd feel pretty amazing?” 

“Christopher … is that what you really want?” 

He didn't reply this time. Just looked at her, his bottom lip caught anxiously between his teeth. 

“Okay … well, let's say everyone in the world did like you,” Y/N hummed. “What then?” 

“Then … maybe I'd feel satisfied. Like I'm … “ 

His words trailed off into a mumble, his head dipping so she couldn't see his face. But he looked up again after a second, turning his gaze back onto the damp scene beyond the window. 

“I don't know,” he sighed suddenly. “I just … I know it's stupid. But I can't stop thinking about it. In the back of my mind I keep wondering what it'd feel like … if the whole world liked me, would I feel better about myself? Would I still feel the need to work so hard? Because right now … right now I break my back for the people around me and honestly? I don't think any one of them could care less.” 

His words flew out of his mouth like little shards of glass, lodging themselves into Y/N's chest. It was one thing silently knowing what Chris felt, but it was another thing completely for him to say the words aloud. Y/N knew well just how much Chris had been struggling lately; he was nowhere near satisfied with his current situation, and he wore himself down to the bone day after day, night after night, in the hopes that somehow the void in his heart would finally fill over - for good. Yet all that he felt he had achieved was pure exhaustion, every new day piling onto his broad shoulders like a tonne of jagged boulders. Y/N knew first hand just how hard he tried to keep the people around him happy. She also knew just how little the care he showed was reciprocated; Chris often acted like he didn't care. Brushed it off with his easy smile and gentle disposition. But Y/N could see just how much it hurt him sometimes - and it broke her heart, knowing how he was treated. 

“Do you really think if the whole world liked you, it'd fix everything?” Y/N's voice was gentle, like a kiss against his cheek. 

Chris was quiet. His shoulders fell and he looked down at their clasped hands, the way her fingers fit so perfectly in the gaps of his own. 

“Even if everyone alive loved you, I don't think it would change anything,” Y/N said as she traced her thumb over his knuckles. “People come and go, their opinions change and warp with time … it's a fickle world out there. Their opinion could be the absolute best of you but … somehow I don't think that would change anything with how you perceive yourself.” 

Chris gave her a sidelong glance. His mouth twitched, and he let out a soft puff of laughter. “Wow. So I'm just destined to hate myself forever, huh?” 

“That's not what I meant,” Y/N tutted and gently bumped her arm against his as he chuckled again. “I just mean … your problems all share one thing in common. You're not satisfied with yourself. About anything. Who you are as a person, your looks, your work, your choices … they're all things to do with you, not other people. That's why I don't think people loving you more would help.” 

She leaned her chin on her shoulder then, looking up at him as Chris's eyes found her own. Her hand ran softly up and down his back, his skin velvety beneath her fingers. “I just think … you need to finally accept yourself for who you are. You're all you have, Christopher Bahng. I know people haven't been very nice to you in the past, and have made fun of how you look, or your name, or just who you are in general … but Chris, none of their words held any truth. If they couldn't understand the goodness and the beauty that you carry, then that's on them - and they don't deserve to have their words living in your brain to this day, you know? And look … I could sit here and let my voice go hoarse from telling you over and over just how beautiful I think you are and how proud of you I am, and how much I love you … but none of that is going to make any difference to you if you've still got your door closed.” 

Y/N wasn't surprised when she saw crystalline tears dripping off of his nose and splashing onto his thighs a second later. But her eyes softened nonetheless and she set her mug aside before fully pulling the man into her arms, letting him bury his face into the crook of her neck like a clingy puppy.

“I … I don't know how,” Chris sobbed into her skin, his fingers clutching at her top. “I've tried but I just … can't.”

“You can, baby,” Y/N whispered. “I know you can. You just need to be gentle with yourself. This is going to take time … healing is never going to be linear, Chris. It's ugly, and it's painful, but you'll get there. I promise you will.” 

He raised his head then, tears streaming down his face like shooting stars, and Y/N cupped his cheeks with a tenderness that made more tears flood his eyelashes. “And you do not need everyone to love you, Christopher. You have people around you who love you very much … you just need to remind yourself that you're worthy of receiving it. Because you are, baby. You so are.” 

Sniffing hard, Chris scrunched his eyes tight as Y/N caressed his tears away. He didn't say anything, just held onto her a little firmer and let himself be held by the steady reassurance of Y/N's arms. 

“I want to go home,” Chris gasped then, words muffled against Y/N's chest. 

“I know baby,” Y/N's own eyes squeezed shut as she kept stroking the long curls of his hair. 

“I miss Berry,” Chris hiccuped. “And I miss dad. I miss mum … “ 

Y/N was crying now too, her tears silently trickling down her cheeks and into Chris's hair. It was all she could do to slip off from her awkward position on the windowsill and tug Chris with her to his bed, where she fluffed up his pillows and tucked him in beside her. 

Curling her arms back around him again, Y/N reached for his phone on the nightstand and slipped it into his hand. “Call them,” she said simply, kissing his forehead. 

Rubbing the back of his hand over his nose, Chris nodded. But his face broke into a watery smile a second later, and he sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder. 

“In a bit,” Chris sniffled. “Bet my face looks like a wreck right now.” 

Giggling at that, Y/N cupped his jaw. “Lemme see?” 

She studied his face with an exaggerated expression on her own, her fingers tracing the redness of his cheeks, the soft swelling of his eyelids. She smiled warmly, and leaning closer, Y/N pressed her forehead against the overwhelming heat of his. 

“You look beautiful,” she whispered, stroking her hands down his arms. 

Chris chuckled against her lips. Blinking away the last of his tears, Chris looped his arms around Y/N's waist and tugged until she was pressed flush against the bare skin of his torso, and he grinned, closing the space to tenderly press his mouth against hers. 

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Tag list ~ @dalamjisung @ateez-babygirl @waverzzzzzzzz @smutdumpskz @hotmesshapa @chanssmiles @leand125 @foivetimesacharm @dprkbyn @super-btstrash-posts @sleepyleeji @ka-ni-ma @straystaychan @mylifesupsidedowm @armystay89 @shut-up256 @hanstan34 @blackfangedreaper @suhomylife @kannaexe @kookie9704 @notastraykid @strayfoxxchan @elizalabs3 @jdopes-recorder @forever-in-the-sky2 @peachygiku @chansducky10 @shakalakaboomboo @jisuperboard @zandra-42 @whyyougottadothatbro @skzcoffeemachine @where-is-innie @miin17 @nappynapnaps @prettymiye0n @lost-leopard-beanie @chnbngs @hann1bee @stayceebs97 @solandiszale @cosmicalily @chanlixart (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

[greyyeti]

HAN ✦ CEREMONY (250822)

[greyyeti]

Jeez goodness!!

ᯓ★ 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋?

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆ 𓆩𓆪 ⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

͙͘͡★ Genre: Domestic, fluff, crack, slightly suggestive

͙͘͡★ Warnings: Suggestive references

͙͘͡★ Characters: Chris, Y/N

͙͘͡★ Synopsis: Y/N tests Chris's patience by playing a *small* prank on him

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Tag list ~ @dalamjisung @ateez-babygirl @waverzzzzzzzz @smutdumpskz @hotmesshapa @chanssmiles @leand125 @foivetimesacharm @dprkbyn @super-btstrash-posts @sleepyleeji @ka-ni-ma @straystaychan @mylifesupsidedowm @armystay89 @shut-up256 @hanstan34 @blackfangedreaper @suhomylife @kannaexe @kookie9704 @notastraykid @strayfoxxchan @elizalabs3 @jdopes-recorder @forever-in-the-sky2 @peachygiku @chansducky10 @shakalakaboomboo @jisuperboard @zandra-42 @whyyougottadothatbro @skzcoffeemachine @where-is-innie @miin17 @nappynapnaps @prettymiye0n @lost-leopard-beanie @chnbngs @hann1bee @stayceebs97 @solandiszale @cosmicalily @chanlixart (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

[greyyeti]

❤️❤️❤️

PAIRING: OT8 X READER (SEPERATE) SYNOPSIS: how i think stray kids would do a gender reveal with their partner GENRE: FLUFF CONTENT: IMPLIED FEM!READER, BABY'S GENDER NOT SPECIFIED WC: 0.5k NOTE: scratching my domestic dad!skz itch finally THIS BLOG IS USUALLY 18+! PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR AN AGELESSS BLOG. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Balloon Pop

♡ he’s so nervous  ♡ laughing the whole time ♡ careful holds the balloon and gives you the pin to pop it ♡ he did tease you and your guys' friends and family about popping it tho ♡ he couldn’t pop it himself bc if nerves ♡ hugs you immediately after seeing the confetti color ♡ holds so so tight and spins you around ♡ just feels so real and hes so happy ♡ literally so in love

Baby Fights

♡ you brought it up and he was 10000% down for it ♡ utter chaos ♡ it’s Han and Seungmin in the inflatable baby suits ♡ clumsy and can’t fight ♡ it’s literally a mess of chaos and running away from each other ♡ a chair is grabbed at one point? no one knows where it came from ♡ is so busy laughing his ass off with you ♡ everyone claps at the end ♡ he just turns and kisses yo ♡ thanks you for carrying his baby girl/boy, and the good laugh ♡ took him back to pre-debut

Smoke Bomb

♡ is so hyped honestly  ♡ he’s yelling at people to record ♡ shaking the canister ♡ lots of kisses prior ♡ yells the count down ♡ he was gonna scream no matter the color of the smoke ♡ kisses and a tight tight hug

Body paint

♡ in love with the idea of just you and him in a field, one friend to give you the paint and record the reactions ♡ Smiles so fucking wide as your both spreading paint on each other with your eyes closed ♡ Is so nervous to opens his eyes honestly — it’s just becoming so real he can't contain his emotions ♡ Screams then almost cries when he sees the paint color ♡ kisses you so hard ♡ there is paint on your face because he forgot he had it on his hands when he grabbed your face to kiss you

Cake cut with cup

♡ very very nervous ♡ both of you end up covering each other's eyes as a joke ♡ no peeking ♡ tells you to wait when the cups are all the way down ♡ he’s really not ready ♡ count him down ♡ almost dropped the cup on the floor when he saw the color ♡ it takes him a few seconds to fully process it ♡ happiest person there

Tic-Tac-Toe

♡ shaking with excitement  ♡ just happy he’s having a baby with you ♡ gonna be his little gaming buddy no matter what ♡ will try and peak. stop him ♡ jumping up and down ♡ screaming before pulling you in for a fat kiss ♡ literally happiest person ever ♡ drops to his knees and kisses your belly too ♡ he can’t wait any longer to meet your guys baby

Baseball smoke bomb

♡ is so excited when you show him videos of dads hitting a smoke baseball ♡ immediately wants to do it ♡ gets so excited for the day ♡ bouncing up and down until he gets a bat in his hands ♡ then he’s all serious ♡ he coached you on how exactly to throw it too ♡ spent weeks making sure you could do it ♡ smiles wide as hell when the smoke disperses and runs over to you ♡ he’s just happy to be a dad

Balloon in box

♡ is honestly very nervous and very camera shy ♡ yelling at the boys and his brothers to stop teasing him ♡ trying to hide behind you before you both grab the ribbon ♡ holds you closer as you two open the flaps of the cardboard ♡ happy baby bread ♡ big ole hug and cheek kisses ♡ he’ll kiss you more later

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© 2025 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[greyyeti]

HAN ★ CEREMONY M/V — MAKING FILM

[greyyeti]

© Rin | do not edit and/or crop logo

[greyyeti]

🥹🥹🥹

You're still Beautiful

Synopsis: How do skz comfort mom!y/n when she's insecure about her body after pregnancy

MASTER LIST TAGLIST REQUEST RULES 

방찬 - Bang Chan

You were standing in front of the mirror again. It had become a quiet routine lately, the kind Chan didn’t notice because you always did it when he was distracted, usually after he’d settled the baby down. Tonight was no different. The house was finally quiet, just the hum of the monitor in the background, and you stood with your shirt lifted slightly, fingers running over the stretch marks across your stomach. They felt like permanent reminders into skin you didn't want to change.

Then thought hit you before you could stop it. He must miss how I used to look. I miss how I used to look.

Your throat tightened. You pulled your shirt down quickly when you heard the bedroom door creak. Chan walked in with that soft smile, which he always had after putting your daughter to sleep. But the second his eyes landed on you, his smile dimmed.

“Baby,” he said carefully, “why do you look like that?”

You shook your head, forcing an awkward laugh. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to cry.” His voice lowered.

You turned back to the mirror, hating how heavy your body felt. “It’s nothing. Just… I don’t know. I look at myself and I don’t know who I am anymore. My body doesn’t feel like mine. And I hate that you have to see it like this.”

The silence that followed made you regret saying anything. You didn’t want pity. You didn’t want him to have to reassure. But then Chan stepped forward, slow and deliberate, standing right behind you.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, pressing his chest against your back, his arms sliding around your waist. He held you firmly, like he could keep the words from falling out of your mouth if he just held on tight enough. “Don’t you ever say that to me again.”

You shook your head stubbornly. “Chan, it’s true. I don’t look the same. I don’t feel the same. You didn’t sign up for… for this.” Your hand gestured vaguely at your body, frustration spilling out of you.

But he caught your wrist before you could pull away and pressed it flat against his cheek. “Listen to me. I signed up for you. Every version of you. Do you understand that? I don’t care if you’ve changed. I love that you’ve changed, because it means you carried our daughter. It means you gave me a family.”

You bit your lip, tears blurring the mirror. “But what if I never look the way I did before?”

Chan’s grip on your waist tightened, grounding. “Good. I don’t want you to look the way you did before. I want you exactly like this.” His voice with emotion. “You don’t know what it does to me, seeing you with her, knowing what you went through. I’ve never been more in love with you. Never.”

When you finally let the tears fall, he turned you around, cupped your face, and kissed you, not rushed, not desperate, but slow and reverent. He kissed the corners of your eyes where the tears clung, kissed the curve of your cheeks, kissed your mouth like he was trying to breathe his love straight into your lungs.

And when you whispered again, broken, “I don’t feel beautiful,” he pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Then let me show you until you believe it.”

The rest of the night, he didn’t let you cover yourself. Every place you were insecure about, your stomach, your hips, the faint softness in your arms, he touched with a gentleness that bordered on worship. He whispered things he never usually said aloud, because Chan wasn’t one to waste words unless they mattered.. You’re mine. You’re perfect. You’re everything.

By the time you fell asleep in his arms, pressed so tightly against his chest you could feel his heartbeat, the sharp edge of your insecurity had dulled. It didn’t disappear, but Chan’s love wrapped around it like a shield, stubborn and unrelenting.

And you knew, without doubt, that he wasn’t going to let you forget how he saw you, not tonight, not ever.

리노 - Lee Know

You were folding laundry in the bedroom, the baby finally napping after what felt like an endless afternoon of fussing. The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that should’ve felt like peace, but instead you felt heavy in your own skin. You pulled one of your old pairs of jeans from the drawer and sighed, remembering how easily you used to slip into them.

On impulse, you tried them on. They wouldn’t even button. The waistband dug into your skin, the denim uncomfortably against your hips. Frustration filled in your chest, and before you knew it, you were standing in front of the mirror again, tugging at the fabric, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

The sound of the door opening made you jump. Minho walked in, his hair slightly messy from lying on the floor with your daughter earlier, his steps soft. He froze the second he saw your face.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was even, but his eyes sharpened, scanning you like he already knew the answer.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, fumbling to unzip the jeans. “Just… they don’t fit anymore. I should’ve known better.”

He watched you for a beat too long, the kind of silence that made your skin prickle. Then, quietly, he asked, “Why do you sound like you’re blaming yourself?”

You tried to shrug it off, but your throat was too tight. “Because it’s my body, Minho. I look at myself and I don’t recognize who I am anymore. Everything feels wrong. I’m softer, I’m stretched out, and it’s not fair to you.”

You turned away, embarrassed, but Minho was already moving toward you. His hand closed around your wrist, firm but gentle, pulling you back to face him. His expression wasn’t anger, it was pain.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he said flatly, his voice carrying that sharp honesty only he could deliver. “Don’t you ever think you’re being unfair to me by existing the way you are.”

Your lip trembled. “But..”

“No.” He cut you off, his tone softening. “Look at me.” His thumb brushed against your jaw, tilting your chin up. “Do you know what I see when I look at you? The woman who carried our child. The person I love most in this world. The only person who can make this house feel like home. You think I care about jeans?” His mouth curved into a smile. “I’d burn every pair if it meant you’d stop hurting yourself like this.”

You tried to protest, whispering, “I just don’t feel beautiful anymore…”

Minho’s eyes softened in that quiet way that always broke you. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice soft. “Then let me love you enough until you do. Because I swear to you, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Especially like this.”

His hands slid to your waist, gripping the curve of your hips, like he wanted to claim it as his favorite part. He kissed you then, slow at first, then deeper, like he was trying to chase every doubt out of your body with his mouth.

When he pulled back, his breath warm against your lips, “You gave me her. Our daughter. You think I’ll ever see you as anything less than perfect after that? You’re mine. Always.”

The words were too much. You buried your face in his chest, and for once he didn’t tease you for crying. He just held you there, his hand stroking your hair, his heart beating steady against your cheek.

Later that night, as you rocked the baby to sleep together, Minho wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple. Under his breath, so soft you almost missed it, he whispered: “My girls. My whole world.”

And for the first time in weeks, the reflection in the mirror didn’t feel like a stranger anymore, it felt like someone loved, chosen, wanted.

창빈 - Changbin

The shower steamed around you, fogging up the glass, you couldn’t wash away the ache in your chest. You stood in front of the bathroom mirror wrapped in a towel, staring at your reflection. Your skin still glowing with the faint stretch marks, your stomach still felt softer than it used to, your body heavier in ways you hadn’t expected. You dug your fingers into your waist, pinching at the curve that wasn’t there before pregnancy, and whispered under your breath, What happened to me?

The door cracked open and Changbin stepped inside, holding the baby monitor in one hand. He was smiling, about to tell you that the little one had just drifted off, but the second his eyes landed on you, his smile fell.

“Babe?” His voice was cautious, soft but worried. “Why are you looking at yourself like that?”

You jerked the towel tighter around you. “It’s nothing.”

But he wasn’t buying it. He set the monitor down and came closer, his brows knitting. “Talk to me.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes blurring with tears. “I don’t feel like myself anymore, Bin. My body’s ruined. I look at me and all I see is… stretched out, tired, heavy. I hate that this is what you see now too.”

For a moment, he just stared at you. Then, without a word, he took the towel edge from your hands, peeling it away gently. You gasped, trying to hold it back, but he shook his head.

“No hiding.” His voice was low, full of honesty and love. “Not from me. Never from me.”

You froze under his gaze, every insecurity screaming louder now that you were exposed. But Changbin didn’t flinch. His eyes roamed over you slowly, deliberately, like he was memorizing every line, every curve, every change. Then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest tightly.

“You think I see ruined?” he whispered into your hair. “I see the strongest woman I know. I see the love of my life. I see the mother of my child. That body you hate? It carried her. It protected her. It gave me a family. I can’t even put into words how much I love you for that.”

Your tears broke free, hot against his chest. “But I don’t feel beautiful anymore,” you choked.

He leaned back just enough to cup your face. “Then I’ll remind you every single day until you do. You hear me? I don’t care if it takes months, years, I’ll never stop reminding you. You are beautiful. You are mine. And I’ve never wanted you more than I do right now.”

He kissed you then, not rushed but deep, steady, filled with every ounce of devotion he had. His hands pressed against the parts of you hated, your stomach, your hips, your thighs, each touch saying what his words couldn’t.

When you finally broke the kiss, breathless and teary, he rested his forehead against yours. “If I could show you the way I see you, just once, you’d never doubt yourself again.”

Later that night, while the baby slept between you in her crib, you woke to find Changbin still awake, watching you. When you asked why, he smiled so softly and said, “Just making sure my two girls are safe. My whole world’s right here.”

And for the first time after giving birth, you loved your body.

현진 - Hwang Hyunjin The nursery was quiet except for the faint lull of the mobile above the crib. Hyunjin had just finished humming your daughter to sleep, his voice soft and steady, the kind of sound that always seemed to calm both of you. You slipped into the room a little later, intending to check on them, but caught sight of yourself in the mirror on the wardrobe door.

The reflection only emphasized the things you’d been trying to ignore, the softened curves of your body, the tired lines in your face, the stretch marks that seemed to get deeper than before. You touched your stomach and exhaled shakily, the whisper escaping before you could stop it: How could he ever still see me the way he used to?

“My love…”

You jumped. Hyunjin’s voice came from behind you. He was leaning against the crib now that the baby was asleep, his eyes trained on you with that piercing, knowing gaze. You hadn’t even noticed him watching.

You tried to brush it off. “I was just… nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

But Hyunjin pushed away from the crib and crossed the room slowly. His reflection appeared in the mirror beside yours, his eyes softer than before.

“Tell me what’s hurting you.” He saying holding your hands gently.

Your throat ached as you tried to find the words. “I don’t feel like me anymore, Jinnie. I look at this body, and all I see is… ruined. You used to look at me like I was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. And now...” Your voice cracked. “Now I don’t believe how you could still.”

His breath hitched, sharp, like your words had physically struck him. For a moment, his expression faltered, hurt, desperate. Then he moved closer, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you against him. His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered, “You are still my muse. Always. You are still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And not even time, or anything else in this world could take that away.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “But I don’t feel beautiful anymore.”

Hyunjin turned you gently, his long fingers curling under your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his. His eyes were glistening too, filled with emotion he couldn’t hide. “Then let me love you until you do. That’s what I want, my love. To spend every day showing you how perfect you are to me, even when you can’t see it yourself.”

When you tried to look away, embarrassed, he lowered his head and kissed your cheek. Then he kissed your hands, your cheeks damp with tears, and finally your lips, slow, deep, tender.

“You gave me her,” he murmured when he pulled back, his voice breaking. “Our little girl. Do you think I’ll ever see you as anything less than perfect after that? You’re not ruined, my love. You’re divine. You are everything.”

You crumbled into his chest, and he wrapped you in his arms, swaying slightly, the way he did when he rocked your daughter. His hand stroked through your hair, his lips pressing against your temple over and over.

Later in the late night, you woke to find Hyunjin sketching quietly at his desk by the window. The lamp cast a golden halo around him. When you asked what he was drawing, he turned the page toward you.

It was you, not from before, not imagined differently, but who you are now. Every curve, every change, every line exactly as you were. And you’d never looked more beautiful.

“See?” he whispered, coming to tuck you back into his side. “Still my love, my flower, my wife.”

한 - Han Jisung The living room was a mess of baby toys and bottles when you sank onto the couch, exhausted. Jisung had just managed to put the baby down for a nap, humming under his breath as he rocked her to sleep. You should’ve been resting too, but instead your eyes caught the reflection in the darkened TV screen.

Your body.

Your shirt clung in places you didn’t want it to. Your stomach didn’t feel like it belonged to you anymore. You tugged at the fabric, frowning so deeply you didn’t notice Jisung walking back in.

“Why are you making that face?” he asked suddenly, his head tilting as he padded over, hair sticking up in every direction from where the baby had tugged at it earlier.

You jumped. “What face?”

“That face.” He crouched down in front of you, trying to peer up into your downcast eyes. “The one that looks like you’re mad at yourself. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, looking away. “Nothing, Sungie.”

He narrowed his eyes, his voice softer. “Don’t, baby please. Talk to me.”

The words came out before you could stop them. “I don’t feel like me anymore. I hate the way I look. I hate that I don’t fit into anything. And I hate that you have to see me like this.” Your throat tightened.

The silence that followed felt suffocating. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, until Jisung’s hands suddenly closed around yours, kissing them.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he whispered, his voice breaking at the edges. When you finally looked up, his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Do you even know what you are to me? You’re everything. You gave me our daughter. You gave me a family. You think I care about clothes not fitting?” He laughed, shaky. “I care about you breathing, smiling, being here with me. That’s it.”

You shook your head, whispering, “But I don’t feel beautiful anymore.”

Jisung’s expression softened, pained, like your words were tearing him apart. He moved to sit beside you, tugging you into his lap with a strength you weren’t expecting. He wrapped himself around you, burying his face in your neck as he whispered, “Then let me feel it for you. Let me carry it for you until you can.”

His hands moved to your sides. He pressed kiss after kiss against your skin, your shoulder, your jaw, the curve of your cheek. Every kiss was shaky, like he was desperate for you to believe him.

“You’re mine,” he murmured fiercely against your skin. “The only person I’ve ever wanted like this. You’re not ruined. You’re real. You’re the most real, most beautiful thing in my life. Please don’t take that away from me by doubting it.”

Tears blurred your vision as you clutched at his shirt, and for once he didn’t joke, didn’t try to lighten it, he just held you tighter.

That night Jisung got up to check on her, you caught him whispering to her softly, thinking you were asleep: “You know, your mommy’s the prettiest and strongest woman in the whole world.”

That made something inside you start to heal.

필릭스 - Lee Felix

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at your reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. The baby had finally fallen asleep after a long, fussy evening, and for a moment, the house was quiet enough that your thoughts could breathe, but all they did was spiral.

Your stomach felt heavier than it ever had. Your hips were softer, your thighs fuller, and the stretch marks that lined your skin made you flinch every time your gaze fell on them. You tugged at the waistband of your sweatpants and muttered to yourself, almost under your breath, “I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

“Hey.”

Felix was standing in the doorway. His head tilted, eyes immediately taking in your expression, the way your fingers clutched your sweatpants.

“Felix… it’s nothing,” you murmured, trying to smile.

“No,” he said, stepping closer, his voice firm but gentle. “It’s not nothing if it’s making you look like this. Talk to me.”

Your lips trembled. “I don’t feel like myself. I hate the way I look. I hate that my body isn’t… what it was. And I hate that you have to see me like this.”

Felix’s chest tightened, and he walked right up to you, crouching slightly so his eyes were level with yours. He took your hands in his, warm and steady, squeezing them gently. “Hey… look at me.”

You hesitated, but something in the steadiness of his gaze made you tilt your chin up.

“You are not ruined,” he said, softly but certainty that made your heart catch. “You carried our little one. You brought life into this world. You’re strong, you’re incredible, and you’re still the same person I fell for. Every change only makes me love you more. You’re my world.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “But I don’t feel beautiful anymore.”

Felix pressed his forehead to yours, holding your face gently. “Then let me remind you, every single day. Until you believe it yourself. I see you, all of you. And I am endlessly in love with you.”

His hands trailed over your stomach, hips, and shoulders, not avoiding the places you hated, but holding them as though he was memorizing them. His lips brushed your hairline, then your cheeks, then finally your lips in a slow, lingering kiss, conveying more devotion and reassurance than words could carry.

Later, as he tucked you into bed and kissed your temple, he whispered softly, almost to himself, “My whole life is right here.”

And in that moment, for the first time in weeks, you felt seen, truly seen, and somehow, even in the mirror, you could start to believe him.

승민- Kim Seungmin

You were sitting on the floor of the nursery, legs curled to your chest, staring down at your reflection in the windowpane. The city lights outside blurred with the tears that had been threatening to fall all evening. Your stomach was softer, your hips wider, and the faint stretch marks along your skin.

Seungmin had been quietly folding baby clothes across the room, humming a low tune, when he noticed you staring so intently at your own reflection. He stepped closer, soft, tilting his head as he observed your change in mood.

“Hey,” he said gently. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing. I’m just… tired, I guess.”

“No,” Seungmin said softly but firmly. He crouched in front of you and took your hands in his. “Talk to me.”

You swallowed, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I don’t feel like myself anymore. I hate the way I look. I don’t even recognize my body… or who I am now.”

His expression softened immediately, a mix of concern and reassurance. He reached forward, cupping your face gently in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You’re still you,” he whispered, his voice steady and warm. “The same person I love. Maybe even more now. You carried our child, you brought life into this world. That changes a body, yes… but it doesn’t take away who you are. It doesn’t take away how beautiful you are to me.”

Tears swelled up, and you shook your head, biting your lip. “But I don’t feel beautiful.”

Seungmin pressed his forehead to yours, letting his hands rest firmly at your jaw and shoulders, grounding you. “Then let me show you. Every day if I have to. I see you. I see everything you are, strong, soft, fierce, loving, and I can’t stop loving it. You are not less, you are not ruined. I am forever grateful for you.”

His hands lingered, tracing gentle, comforting circles over the parts of your body you hated. He leaned down slowly, pressing kisses to your forehead, the bridge of your nose, your cheeks, each kiss a promise. Then, finally, his lips met yours in a slow, deep with reassurance, warmth and love.

Later that night, Seungmin held you close in bed. “You gave me the greatest gift in the world,” he whispered against your hair. “Don’t let doubts take that away. I still love you regardless.”

And lying there in his arms, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you felt something lift inside you. You were still you, still seen, still loved, and maybe, slowly, beginning to believe it again.

아이엔 - Yang Jeongin

You were sitting on the floor, legs curled up to your chest, staring at your reflection in the darkened TV screen. The apartment was quiet, the baby finally asleep, but you felt anything but peaceful. Your body felt different, your stomach softer, your hips wider, your thighs fuller. The faint stretch marks that lined your skin made you flinch every time you looked.

You tugged at the waistband of your sweatpants and whispered to yourself, “I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

Jeongin stepped quietly into the room, holding the baby monitor, and froze when he noticed your expression. He came closer, kneeling beside you.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Talk to me. Why are you looking at yourself like that?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “It’s nothing. I’m just… tired, I guess.”

“No.” His voice was gentle, patient, but firm. “It’s not nothing if it’s making you look so small. Tell me what’s going on.”

Your voice trembled as you spoke. “I… I don’t feel like myself anymore. I hate the way I look. I don’t even recognize my body… or me.”

Jeongin reached out immediately, taking your hands in his and holding them gently. “You’re still the person I love,” he said softly, his eyes steady on yours. “Maybe even more now. You carried our child. You brought our little one into the world. That changes a body, yes… but it doesn’t take away how strong, how beautiful, how important you are. It doesn’t take away how much I love you.”

Tears started to spill, and you shook your head. “But I don’t feel beautiful anymore…”

He tilted your chin up gently, his fingers brushing your cheeks, forcing your gaze to meet his. “Then let me show you, every day if I have to. I see you. I see all of you, the strong, the loving, the tired, the brave, and I love every part. You are not less. You are not broken. You are strong.”

Jeongin’s hands traced slow, comforting paths over the areas you hated the most, your stomach, your hips, your thighs. He pressed soft, grounding kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, then finally your lips, each kiss carrying every ounce of reassurance he could give.

Later, after checking the baby one last time, he held you in bed, arms wrapped around you, whispering softly, “You gave me our greatest treasure. Don’t ever doubt yourself. I see you. I always will.”

Lying in his arms, feeling his heartbeat, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his chest, something inside you began to shift. You were still you, still seen, still loved, and slowly, maybe, beginning to believe it again.

Dividers:@uzmacchiato Tags: @240724coups @jeonginsleftcheek @paborachaslvt

A/n: Hello lovelies, this was a rq by @dokidokidraft 🫶🏻, thank you so much for the idea! <3 I just want to say that there are a lot of mothers and young women as well who are insecure of their body, but you all are beautiful regardless, every woman is a unique art piece as they are and nothing about them should ever considered "ugly", we are women, we give life to this land, and we grow happiness even if we're dying inside. So to those beautiful mothers and women out there, you're not anything less than beauty, you are strong, brave and very much self-giving so don't ever put yourself down 💗

[greyyeti]

WHY. SO. CUTE!!!!!!! 😍😍😍

[greyyeti]

😆😆😆

Fanfic Secrets (Maknae Line)

summary: when he catches you reading his fanfic

pairing: skz maknae line x fem!reader

genre: fluff, humor

Hyung Line

~°~

Han Jisung

Lee Felix

Kim Seungmin

Yang Jeongin

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Permanent Taglist 1:

@lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos @silly250 @thecutiepieme @stay-tiny-things @inlovewithstraykids @skz-ot8-stay @emilyywhyy @havenwithleeknow @hungryhobbit815 @seungminnieinthebuilding @geni-627 @ye0lkkot @yaorzu-blog @butterflybananabread @nightshadeblooming @rockstarkkami @finannn @poody1608 @scarlet789 @mbioooo0000 @icannotbelieveit @casperlynn23 @rtyuy1346 @maddy24207 @ari-hwanggg @jisuperboard @nougatjade @skzlover24 @velvetmoonlght @unintentionalbee @theeonlywanii @enhacolor @aria-again @millannniii @silentreadersthings

[greyyeti]

🤭🤭🤭

Fanfic Secrets (Hyung Line)

summary: reading your idol boyfriend’s fanfic was fun… until he caught you in the act

pairing: skz hyung line x fem!reader

genre: humor

a/n: this is based on this request ♡

Maknae Line

~°~

Bang Chan

Lee Know

Seo Changbin

Hwang Hyunjin

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Permanent Taglist 1:

@lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos @silly250 @thecutiepieme @stay-tiny-things @inlovewithstraykids @skz-ot8-stay @emilyywhyy @havenwithleeknow @hungryhobbit815 @seungminnieinthebuilding @geni-627 @ye0lkkot @yaorzu-blog @butterflybananabread @nightshadeblooming @rockstarkkami @finannn @poody1608 @scarlet789 @mbioooo0000 @icannotbelieveit @casperlynn23 @rtyuy1346 @maddy24207 @ari-hwanggg @jisuperboard @nougatjade @skzlover24 @velvetmoonlght @unintentionalbee @theeonlywanii @enhacolor @aria-again @millannniii @silentreadersthings

[greyyeti]

This reminds me of the opposite one! Where Minho was getting surprise! Hahahaha!

Surprise Plan - Lee Know

summary: your first birthday with him, and he's determined to make it memorable

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: fluff, humor

a/n: this was requested by @yxna-bliss happy birthday, hope you like it ♡

Masterlist

~°~

----------------

Permanent Taglist 1:

@lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos @silly250 @thecutiepieme @stay-tiny-things @inlovewithstraykids @skz-ot8-stay @emilyywhyy @havenwithleeknow @hungryhobbit815 @seungminnieinthebuilding @geni-627 @ye0lkkot @yaorzu-blog @butterflybananabread @nightshadeblooming @rockstarkkami @finannn @poody1608 @scarlet789 @mbioooo0000 @icannotbelieveit @casperlynn23 @rtyuy1346 @maddy24207 @ari-hwanggg @jisuperboard @nougatjade @skzlover24 @velvetmoonlght @unintentionalbee @theeonlywanii @enhacolor @aria-again @millannniii @silentreadersthings

[greyyeti]

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

You Live Like This? - FINAL

Series master list PART 2 INFO

pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: home invader!Chris makes good on his promise to rob your ex to avenge your painful breakup, only to find that you're already there trying to collect your belongings. In order to keep your ex-bf from including you as an accomplice in his inevitable police report, you have to pretend you don't know the robber who keeps flirting with you. (plus like a lot more)

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence.

word count: 2k

JUST KIDDING ☺️

You hadn’t thought the woods surrounding the campsites were so densely packed and extensive, but the man hauls you through what feels like miles of forest. By the time he stops trying to cloak his steps in silence, allowing himself to pant loudly, not caring if his boots fall on snapping branches, you’re getting feeling back in your extremities.

And by now, the grief that shreds your heart into ribbons has transformed into beast of rage.

When he stumbles over a root, you let your body go completely limp and feel his hold on you slip in surprise. When you have more room to move, you bunch all the strength in your core and lift your legs beneath you to slam into him.

Your heel strikes his pelvis. Your other thumps harshly against his upper thigh.

He grunts, snatching you back against his chest in a steel grip. “Stop fucking moving.” He snaps, the hand once over your mouth now closing over your throat.

You’re thrashing, writhing, throwing elbows and fists and kicking as hard as you can.

The man hisses, curses, hurls you to the ground so hard your wrist snaps when you jab it out to catch you.

A scream tears from your throat. “Fuck you!” You roll to try to get distance, but in the next second he’s on top of you, his hulking mass pinning you to the forest floor.

His fist smashes against your jaw, stunning you all over again, and then both of his hands are around your throat.

His fingers are tight, but you can still breathe. He’s just holding you. Holding you down, completely restrained, wholly immobile under his weight.

“Don’t you want to know why?” He hisses furiously. In the dim light, you see a trickle of blood streaming from his nose.

You got him.

If nothing else, after everything he’s taken from you, you hurt him.

You fling your arms up, clawing at his face, yanking at his hair. He tries to lean out of your reach but you keep finding purchase.

You want his skin under your fingernails. You want his hair clutched in your hands.

If you’re going to die tonight, you want to seal his fate right along with yours.

He utters an angered growl, and you see his head cant back to bash you in the forehead again. You spit. As much and as hard as you can.

“Fuck.” He snaps, his movement interrupted as your desperate attempt blinds him.

His hands tighten around your throat, slamming your head back in the dirt. “Bitch!” He slams your head back again. “Don’t you want to know why?”

“Why?” You scream back at him. If only you could make his ears bleed the way your voice made your own throat raw. “Why you killed my ex boyfriend? Why you killed my friend? Because you’re a fucking psychopath.”

He twists, and his elbow smacks you right in the mouth.

As you go limp under him, a cry of pain weeping past your lips, he leans in closer. “Stop moving or I’ll make this last. Do you hear me?”

You don’t say anything. What’s the point? He has you. He killed Chan. He killed Jisung, and Woosung, and whoever that poor person was at Red Ridge.

You can’t escape him anymore than they could.

Not with his hands already around your throat, his body sitting on yours, your wrist broken.

He’s got claw marks on his cheeks from your fingernails now, and a broken nose. Maybe now he’ll be caught. After you.

After he’s done with you.

Maybe you’ll be his last victim.

Maybe a bear will eat him on his way back to his car.

“Your ex boyfriend was a victim of opportunity. Dumb fucker moped outside his tent for hours. Took himself on a walk through the woods. He was easy.” The man loosens his grip on your throat when your cries become ragged. He lets you breathe. “It’s what I found on him that started everything else.”

The man starts laughing. Tickled, amused, delighted laughter cascading from the depths of his barrel chest. “That man had it out for you. He had a whole case file compiled on you. I expected a crime board to be on the walls of his tent, with red string and photographs and shit.”

You go quiet, finally listening.

“I found a notebook in his pocket, and lemme tell you, that was some good reading. Apparently, poor Mr. Woosung had been robbed six months ago. And you were there.”

Dread sinks in your gut.

“The police never found out who did it, but your boy Woosung did. He’s one smart cookie. You weren’t.”

You’re tempted to scream again, to make as much noise as humanly possible, but he leans on your throat again and you squirm as blackness swarms your vision.

“He took notes. Did you know he was tech savvy? Your dumbass ex boyfriend had the bright idea to check his router from the day he was robbed. Read that network traffic like a book. Apparently, while you were being tragically held hostage in the other room by an armed gunman, your phone was connected to the WiFi. Purchasing concert tickets. Isn’t that weird?”

Guilt floods you even as you dangle on the edge of consciousness. He knew.

Woosung found you out.

He knew the whole time.

“Now, what kind of robber lets you browse the internet for concert tickets while he’s holding you hostage? Woosung must have thought that was weird, because he started following you. Imagine his surprise when you went on a date, talking out loud in public about the whole thing as though your date knew all about it. It’s all in the notebook, babygirl. He had you figured out. You and your new boyfriend, dead to rights.”

He lets you breathe again, just for a second.

“Once he decided he couldn’t forgive you, finding out about your travel plans was apparently easy. You probably should have logged out of your email on his computer when you broke up with him. Rookie mistake. He had a whole plan in place. He broke into your apartment after you left, did you know that? Decided to give you a taste of your own medicine.”

It all makes sense now.

Woosung wanted to hurt you.

He may not have wanted you dead, but he was pissed. Rightfully so. He’d followed you out to Hydrangea Falls to exact his own form of revenge.

“I found all these things he had prepared. And once I unlocked his phone, I found all the things he was gonna do just to freak you out a bit. I figured carrying on his legacy after he died was just icing on the cake since I was working with a ghost story anyway. A shattered mug in a bag. I thought that was weird, but apparently it sent a message. I left that for you. The note on your windshield. I was gonna leave another one at Red Ridge, but you guys never made it. You should really tell your friends to be careful about posting their locations on Instagram.”

He had Woosung’s phone the whole time. He was following you through their posts.

“I bet I scared you good.” The man cackles. “Boy, it was fun this time. I don’t usually get to have this much fun. The carving in your table was my own personal touch. I got a little too into it. I thought I was gonna lose my chance, too, but then your boyfriend wandered off and left you alone just to take a piss. The opportunity just fell into my lap.”

He shakes his head and grins down at you, teeth glinting white in the moonlight. His hands clench around your throat. “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

You scream.

As loud as you can.

Forcing your voice past his grip on your windpipe, screeching and howling at the moon with all your might.

“Bitch.” He grumbles, shoving his weight down on your throat.

Your voice chokes out.

His grip hurts so bad you can feel it in your spine, shrieking behind your eyes, your throat feeling like a cardboard tube as he crushes it in his hands.

Your vision blinks out.

You’re out of time.

“Count yourself lucky.” The man hisses gleefully. “None of the others got to know why.” And then he closes his hands into tight fists around the length of your throat, and everything fades to black.

A crack explodes through the air.

Wood splinters.

The hands go slack around your throat. Air rushes into your lungs.

The man falls like a bear on top of you, punching the oxygen right out of you all over again.

Confusion slams through you, a broken cry escaping your lips, but the man doesn’t move.

He’s just laying there. On top of you. Not choking. Not holding. Unmoving.

“Baby,” a raspy grunt reaches your ears, and the weight on top of you shifts. “Baby, talk to me.”

Chan.

You sob, fighting the crushing figure on your chest. “Chan, help me.”

“I got you baby, hold on.” He grunts, and the weight of the man tumbles off of you. “I got you, babygirl, I’m here.”

When the man is gone, you can see the stars above you. The midnight blue sky. The moon watching you unblinkingly. Chan dropping to your side, cradling your head in his hands.

“Chan, I thought—” you’re weeping, croaking in a voice that doesn’t work, letting him drag you to his chest, sucking in the familiar scent of him and feeling your heart explode against your ribs. “I thought he killed you.”

“He knocked me the fuck out.” Chan breathes shakily, and you can see streams of blood trickling down his neck. “When the tent was empty I—” he crushes you against him, and a whimper falls off your lips.

You’ve never been in so much pain. Every breath feels like fire in your throat.

“God, baby, I thought I lost you. I just ran off into the woods—fuck I thought I’d never find my way out again.” He cups your face in his hands, thumbs brushing over the swollen flesh of your injured throat. “And then you screamed. God.” He lays you back down carefully, seeming to suddenly realize that he’s potentially screwing with your damaged spine. “Thank God you screamed.”

You’re nestled in the leaves, but this time you’re alive. You’re breathing.

“I’ve already called the cops.” He says, brushing his hands through your hair. “As soon as I saw the tent was empty. They’ll be here soon.” He digs his phone out of his pocket. “Shit, I started yelling so loud I woke everyone up. Minho is somewhere behind me. They’ll find us.”

“He—“ you break off. It hurts too much to talk. “He’s—“

Chan reaches back and grabs something, showing you a splintered log the size of his arm. “I knocked that shithead out of the park.” He reassures you. “If he’s not dead, I swear to god I’ll finish the job.”

You couldn’t care less if he’s dead.

Chan isn’t.

You’re not.

You think your neck might be broken, but you’re alive.

As Chan leans over you, murmuring brokenly against your lips and cheeks, overwhelmed with relief that he found you in time, swinging flashes of light and shouts of discovery fill the woods around you.

Minho found you.

And he brought the police with him.

FIN.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

< last

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[greyyeti]

WTF!!! NO NO NO!!! IT CANNOT END LIKE THAT!!! NO WAY!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

You Live Like This? - pt. XIII

Series master list PART 2 INFO

pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: home invader!Chris makes good on his promise to rob your ex to avenge your painful breakup, only to find that you're already there trying to collect your belongings. In order to keep your ex-bf from including you as an accomplice in his inevitable police report, you have to pretend you don't know the robber who keeps flirting with you. (plus like a lot more)

warnings: camping, murder, Ateez mentioned, mature.

Big thanks to @mrsminseochoi for her help with the graphic! <3

word count: ~6k

Chan helps the guys clean up after dinner. He leaves you with Changbin at the picnic table, the two of you discussing a route back. The whole thing would be easier to arrange with a laptop, but you didn’t bring yours.

Changbin has an iPad, so you let him do the routing while you deal with canceling your hotel reservation. It’s just barely twenty four hours before your check in, and fortunately doesn’t cost you a fee to give up your room.

He tells you where each ideal stop would be by day, and you search hotels in the areas.

By the time all the food is put away and Minho has revived the fire for light, you have a plan mapped out. Changbin books four rooms at each place, and you book your own.

This time you go through official channels. Booking through proper websites, making your own schedule predictions without relying on ShowTripper. You’ve never planned something like this before, but Changbin seems to know exactly what he’s doing.

He knows how to account for pit stops and potential traffic, reminding you that a six hour day by map can easily turn into an eight or nine hour day in reality.

If you had been doing this alone, you would have blocked yourself eight-hour travel days and probably found yourself stuck with a week of driving for ten hours straight.

You’ll cover more distance since you’re not stopping at campsites that require you to check in with enough daylight to be able to set up your gear. The trip back will actually end up being shorter than the first trip, even going the long way around. And this time you have friends volunteering to help you drive.

When everything is scheduled and booked and properly planned, you set your phone down with a sigh of relief.

That’s one less thing to worry about.

It takes the stress out of wondering how you’re going to get home, and knowing that you’re traveling with company alleviates your fear of venturing out into the world where a killer could be lurking anywhere.

“Alright, that’s that.” Changbin tucks his laptop into his backpack. “You feel comfortable with this?”

You nod honestly. “Yeah, it feels good to me.”

“It’s a lot more work without that app, huh?” He laughs wryly.

Despite your agreement, realizing it took you well over an hour to sort through the route by hand, you don’t resent the inconvenience in the slightest. “I will never use that app again.”

“I suppose it’s just as dangerous as Facebook or Instagram, depending on how you use them, but yeah. Really makes you think twice about what you make public.” Changbin picks up his phone and deactivates his ShowTripper account, then deletes the app. “Of all security concerns.” He scoffs. “Why couldn’t someone have just stolen our card information?”

Even though you’ve dealt with compromised banking information before, even though that experience in itself is a nightmare, it would be a breeze compared to this.

“I’d give anything for it to have just been a credit card scam.” You say, propping your elbows up on the table. “Am I crazy for wanting to throw away all of my camping equipment?”

Changbin glances at you, reading your expression to see how serious you are. “Do you like it? Camping?”

You snort. “I did. Before all this happened.” Should you be so glib about it? You don’t feel glib, but you’re pretending that all you’re talking about is a bad camping trip. You’re compartmentalizing.

He shakes his head. “Then hold off on throwing it all out. Most people don’t have camping trips like this. Someday you might want to pick it up again.”

You don’t picture yourself yearning to pitch a tent again any time soon. “I think I might be traumatized.”

He pushes himself away from the table. “If you like camping, keep camping. It won’t be like this every time, and life’s too short to let fear get in the way of the things you really love.”

You glance over to where Chan has just finished cutting the tape on the box they’d used to bring the groceries from the store, folding his knife and tucking it back into his pocket. His eyes find yours as he flattens the box and tosses it on the fire, and flashes a sweet smile at you. Your heart warms as you reflexively return the easy grin.

Changbin pats your arm companionably and walks away, stretching tiredly. You watch as he gathers Hyunjin and Seungmin and leads them off to the restrooms for showers.

“We all set?” Chan’s voice surprises you, his hands landing on your shoulders and rubbing soothing circles into your muscles with his thumbs. “You guys got us all sorted?”

You nod, leaning back into his touch. “All set. We’ll have to leave tomorrow morning before ten.”

He bends down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug. “How am I supposed to feel?”

His hands slide across your back as he climbs over the bench to sit next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s fair.” He tugs you closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Hey.”

You turn your head, letting your cheek rest against his brow. “Yeah?”

“I really like you.”

Surprise brings a short laugh to your lips. “Yeah, I gathered that.”

He squeezes your waist tighter, puffing an annoyed breath against your throat. “I really like you.” He says again. “More than just spending this trip with you. I don’t want you to disappear after we get home.”

That strikes you as oddly absurd, even though it’s been in your thoughts for the past few days. “I can’t believe you’re acting like I’m the one who has a history of disappearing.”

Chan drags you closer, until you have to lift your legs over the one he has straddling the bench to sit between his. “I want to try this with you.” He tells you seriously. “Properly. Dates. Real life. I want you to see my work. I want to see your work. I want to really get to know you.”

You’re still on the fence.

Not about him or your feelings. You’re more than certain about those. Everything you’ve learned about him this week has been a confirmation of the kind and charming man you were first attracted to.

You’re worried about your future with him. You just gave the police an angle to investigate that may very well lead them to you.

You’re still on the fence about whether or not you’ll resent him for potentially destroying your life.

“I told you that your past doesn’t scare me.” You say softly, reminding yourself of the perhaps ignorant words you’d spoken before you became confronted with the actual possibilities. “I told you that I want you in spite of it.”

He’s frozen around you, waiting for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind.

“I want to try this with you, too.” You feel him relax against you ever so slightly, but he can hear the ‘but’ coming. “But what happens if it catches up to us?”

He’s quiet, thinking.

“I made myself an accessory when I led you to Woosung. When I helped you hurt him.” You’re careful with your words, aware of the rest of the guys sitting around the campfire. “I want to try this with you but I want us to be aware of the chance that things might change if something happens.”

Chan lifts his head from your shoulder and watches you. His eyes are conflicted, his brows furrowed. “If you would rather we stop all of this now, I’ll back off. I’ll leave you alone. I’ll make sure you get home safe, and nothing else. But if you really want to try—if you’re willing to take a chance on me—I will do everything in my power to protect you from what I’ve done. I swear. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You can imagine what he means. Giving himself up. Telling the police that he forced you to help him. Make it seem like he coerced your assistance under threat of pain or death.

It would ensure his own incrimination.

You don’t want that for him, but it makes you feel better to hear him say it. That he wouldn’t throw you to the wolves. That he’s remorseful for what he’s done. That he cares about how it affects you.

“I don’t want this to end.” You say quietly.

Chan beams at you. There’s pure relief and excitement on his face, in the sudden straightening of his spine and bouncing of his shoulders. “Really?” He scoots you closer until you’re practically on his lap. “You really want to stay?”

You’re stupid.

You’re young.

You’re making decisions based on emotions.

“I want to stay with you.”

The sun is going down, darkness closing in, but you can see the exhilaration in his expression. Chan lets out a pent up breath, looking at you like you’ve just given him the perfect Christmas present.

“I’m gonna make everything right.” He promises. “I’ll make sure you’re safe. I’ll make sure the things I’ve done never get back to you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you. Everything back then and all of this.”

Your face screws up in confusion. “All of this? Chan, none of this is your fault.”

He shakes his head. “You weren’t happy to see me and I didn’t give you any peace about it. I fucked things up with Jisung, and I’ll never forgive myself for the way I made him spend his final day. And you would have had a fun, peaceful, solo vacation without me and the guys butting in.”

You lean out of his grip just enough to see his face again. “Hold on, wait. I’m glad that you were persistent. I want to be here with you. I’ve wanted it for months. And your friends are great. I’m heartbroken over Jisung, but I’m glad I got to meet him. And even if I never met up with any of you, I still would have been dealing with Woosung. He still would have been killed. The things that have happened on this trip have been horrible. But I’m so glad you were here. It would have been so much worse to go through even half of this alone, so far from home.”

You’ve said all of this to him before, but now he finally seems to be listening. “I’m glad you’re here too.” He whispers. “If I didn’t have you—if I had to lose Han without you, I don’t know what I would have done. I try to be strong for the guys, you know? But with you here it’s like I can process. I can slow down and think for a minute.”

You’re glad he feels this way. You’d recognized his role among the group, and seen the way he saves his own emotions for later. If there’s nothing else you could do for him through all this, you want to be able to give him someone to turn to when he’s the one who needs a chance to grieve.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” Your voice comes out small, timid. “We’re gonna make it home?”

Chan brings you back to his chest and smoothes a hand down your hair. “We’re gonna make it home.”

You reach for your phone and click it on to check the time. Nearly ten. As you’re turning the phone back to lay on its face, the glow from the screen illuminates something on the surface of the table.

Peering closer, you let out a short laugh.

It’s carved into the picnic table with all the other cute knife etches, just waiting for you to notice. You roll your eyes and bring your arms back around Chan’s back. “You’re such a dork.”

His face is in your hair, nuzzling closer. “It’s not my fault. You make me all sappy.”

It’s cool enough now that your mind is stuck on the sweats he gave you, aching to crawl back into them and pull the hood over your cold ears.

Rather than ruining this moment, you tuck yourself into him and let the warmth of his body surround you.

“I could tell by the way you stopped robbing me to make cocoa and watch a movie with me.” You whisper back, enjoying the feather light touch of his fingers under the hem of your shirt.

“You might say you disarmed me.” He quips, and you remember the kitchen knife that he abandoned for the sake of your impromptu movie night.

You playfully smack the back of his head, but leave your hand there to tickle your fingers through his hair. His neck cranes at your ministrations, leaning into the sensation.

“Hey, lovebirds.” Hyunjin calls from where they all sit around the fire. “Wanna stop whatever that is before it becomes X-rated and join us? We’re not into voyeurism.”

Chan groans with a huff and leans back. “Next time we go out, we’re leaving the peanut gallery at home.”

You let him help you off his laugh, snickering at the jeering hoots from his friends. “They’re your monkeys.”

“I swear, it’s like they’re my kids sometimes.” Chan takes you by the hand and leads you to the campfire. “You guys are ruining my love life.”

Felix snorts. “Your love life is ruining our star gazing.”

You plop yourself down in your chair, which they already had pulled into the circle, waiting for you. When you tilt your head back, you see stars poking through the trees, bright and steady.

It’s beautiful.

“And nobody brought marshmallows.” Minho mutters disappointedly. “We had a whole camping trip without cocoa and marshmallows.”

“If we had cocoa and marshmallows, Han would have eaten them all.” Seungmin responds, but the usual sarcastic bite in his tone is softened by grief.

Minho flinches like he’s been slapped and returns his eyes to the fire.

“Remember last time?” Jeongin utters quietly. “When he poured only like four ounces of cocoa in his cup and piled the rest with marshmallows and then pretended his cup was full of cocoa?”

The pain on Minho’s face softens with fondness. “He did that all the time.”

Chan sits next to you, and his hand tightens around yours. “The man had an insatiable sweet tooth. It’s a wonder his teeth didn’t fall out of his head.”

You cross your legs, now regretting the shorts you changed into in the heat of the day. “You guys camp a lot?”

Changbin nods. “Any time all of us can get a chunk of time off from work, we find a camping trip. We do it at least once a year.”

“Next year we should pick a campground with a lake. I miss swimming.” Hyunjin comments, leaning closer to the fire.

“You want to keep camping?” Jeongin asks, surprised. He glances around the faces, but they’re all focused on the crackling flames.

“It’s tradition.” Felix murmurs. “I want to keep it up to honor him. Like as a memorial.”

“That’s a good idea.” Chan shoots him a reassuring smile.

“It would be too hard to break the tradition.” Seungmin adds. “I think it would make me miss him more.”

Minho stays quiet, eyes never leaving the fire.

Changbin reaches over and taps your knee. “You should come with us.”

You falter, eyes wide. “Oh, I don’t know.” You glance around the faces, finding some of them watching you in agreement and the rest not reacting. You don’t want to intrude on their tradition, and you certainly don’t want to appear as though you’re trying to slide into Jisung’s place. “I’m not sure I’ll be camping again any time soon.”

“You can come with us if you want to.” Hyunjin says. “It’s been fun, doing this with you.”

You can’t imagine how, since you haven’t really gotten comfortable enough to match their energy yet. It strikes you as more of a polite invitation than a convicted one. “Thank you, that’s kind of you. I’ll probably let you guys keep up your tradition in peace, though. I might go back to being a homebody after this.”

Chan kisses the back of your hand, drawing a disgusted groan from both Seungmin and Jeongin. “We’ll see how you feel when the time comes around. Invitation’s open.”

Minho stands up. “We should go to bed. We have to drive tomorrow.” He picks up his chair and drags it a safe distance from the fire before turning back to you. “We’re grateful to you for sharing your camp with us. You’re welcome on our trips if you ever want to come.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he tucks his chin to his chest and turns away to crawl into his tent.

Felix and Jeongin get up too, stretching and muttering goodnight to everyone, including you. They slip into the tent with Minho and zip it up behind them.

In the silence that follows, you cast a timid look around. “I hope you guys don’t think I’m invading your space. I wasn’t trying to insert myself—”

Seungmin stands with a yawn. “Nobody thinks that. Don’t mind Minho. He’s socially constipated even when he’s not sad.”

Hyunjin nods. “Yeah, that was the Minho equivalent of a hug. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t talk to you at all.”

As Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin retire to their tent, you scoot your chair closer to the fire and let the heat pound against your skin until you feel like you’re roasting.

Chan’s hand runs soothing trails up and down your back, staying just enough behind you to keep from scorching his face off.

He definitely runs warmer than you do.

“Don’t want to go to bed yet?” He guesses.

Instead of telling him that you are trying to glean all the enjoyment of possibly your last camping trip ever, you rest your head on your shoulder to put him in your peripheral. “Are you going to sleep in my tent?”

He blinks at you, a light grin playing at his lips. “Do you want me to?”

Annoyance narrows your eyes. “Answer the question.”

He chuckles, leaning forward to brush your hair off your forehead. “I think you’d freeze to death without me.”

You roll your eyes. “And I’ll burn to death tomorrow morning with you.”

Memories of this morning’s chaos come back to both of you, and he laughs hard enough that his eyes squeeze shut with the force of his smile. “You are so unstable. How can you fluctuate temperatures so drastically?”

You throw a punch behind you and hit his arm. “Don’t call a woman unstable. What’s wrong with you?”

He just keeps laughing, catching your fist gently. “You’re the one literally going hot and cold on me.”

“Are you sleeping in my tent or not?” You grumble, having no defense for your poor temperature regulation that you have no control over.

His mirth subsides into a quiet snicker. “If you can promise not to assault me in my sleep.”

“You fucker.”

As the fire dies down, Chan walks you to the restrooms so you can both clean up and change your clothes. The night is calm, dotted with other campfires and filled with the sounds of wildlife and conversation from other campers.

You keep your flashlights pointed at your feet, but neither of you are immune to the sounds of the forest around you. Every snap in the bushes makes you jump, every rustle in the leaves drawing your light.

The expectation of finding a face staring back at you, or spotting a killer following you through the night, keeps your heart racing in your chest.

Chan is just as nervous, holding your hand tightly, swinging his light like a force field around you.

On your way back from the restrooms, your conversation has run out and he sings under his breath to fill the silence. You can’t bring yourself to interrupt or question him, because the sound of his voice is wrapping around you like a security blanket.

Like no one can jump out and attack you as long as he keeps singing.

Maybe that would work if it were a bear in the woods, keeping your presence known and giving predators a chance to slip away without being startled by you, but this particular predator poses the opposite threat.

You know it’s a false sense of security.

You don’t make him stop.

When you both crawl into your tent, you dig through one of the canvas pockets for your tiny colorful padlocks and hand them to Chan.

He glances at them, then at you, confused.

“For the zippers.” You explain. “I forgot to latch them last night, but I want them on tonight. Please?”

He nods without a word and begins fastening them to the zippers, locking you inside.

Any determined intruder could slash through your walls with a knife, but it reassures you all the same to know that nobody will be opening your tent flaps while you sleep.

“I might have to get up to pee in the night.” Chan admits to you once he’s finished.

You show him the tent pocket where you keep the keys. “Just wake me up before you leave.” You mutter. “I don’t want any surprises.”

He nods and slips into your sleeping bag, opening his arms to you. You slide in next to him, finding yourself on the side of the zipper this time, and nestle yourself against his chest.

You’re already infinitely warmer with his cozy sweats on, but being burrowed in the sleeping bag and pressed up against the length of his body is immediately the coziest thing you’ve ever felt.

It makes you want to never go camping alone again.

He tucks your head under his chin and loops his arms around your waist. “Have dinner with me when we get back.” He whispers. “Something nice. Dressed up. Wine and candles.”

Your heart flutters at the thought of a proper romantic night with Chan, nodding before he even finishes speaking. “That sounds nice.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Are you a homebody?”

“I like going out,” you squeeze your arms between the two of you so your hands are warmed against his chest. “But most of my time after work is spent at home, yeah. I’ll do stuff on the weekends.”

“Like what?”

“I like going to museums. Aquariums. I’ll go to a mall and walk around, eat fun food. I’ll go to whatever event is going on, like a local play or concert. Small things that don’t break the bank. Go to a movie, spend the afternoon in the park, read at the beach. Stuff like that. In the winter time I go ice skating as often as I can.”

He hums into your hair. “Busy bee.”

You shrug. “I don’t want to waste my life on my couch.”

“You go to the beach to read?”

“I swim. I picnic. But when I’m done in the water I like to lay there and read for a bit. It kind of scares me to do things alone so I try to drag out the experiences to make sure I enjoy them. If I just go out and come back I feel like I’m making myself more anxious.”

“That’s adorable.” He whispers. “You know you can go ice skating in the summer? They have indoor rinks.”

You pinch his chest at his snark. “My rink is indoors, you ass. If I do things seasonally, it makes me appreciate the seasons more. What’s the point of Christmas if you keep your decorations up all year, you know?”

He’s pressing kisses into your hair, moving down to your cheek, a finger tilting your face up in the dark. “You’re cute.” He kisses you. “I don’t think you’re a homebody, though.”

You pause as he captures your lips again. “That’s just the weekends. Most of the week I’m just at work and back home.”

He tilts your face further and trails soft kisses down your other cheek, leaving sparks in his wake. “That sounds pretty normal to me.”

You shrug, clutching at his shirt as his lips coast over your throat. “I think I’m pretty boring.”

“Are you bored with yourself?” His tongue flicks over your collarbone.

You’re not. You like your life now that you’re financially secure again. “I’m not bored. I’m tired sometimes, but I’m not bored.”

He hums against your skin. “You still teach yoga?”

You nod.

“So you work at a spa, do yoga all day, and then experience the world on the weekends?”

You nod again.

“Your life sounds like a dream.” He’s leaning over you now, pressing another firm kiss to your lips.

“It’s not always as nice as it sounds.” You utter through a gasp. His fingers are clenched around your waist, sending tingles up your spine.

“It doesn’t have to be. But you sound happy.”

“I am.” With your life. In this moment. Doesn’t matter.

“Then I’m happy.” He straddles you in a sudden movement, weight falling over your hips, and pushes your hoodie up to bare your stomach before lowering himself to litter kisses over the skin of your abdomen.

You wriggle under his touch, pulse quickening. “Chan—”

“Shh.” One of his hands touches your mouth, not enough to muffle you, but to remind you that you can be overheard. When he moves back up towards your face again, you can feel his breath on your cheeks. “I want you.” He bumps his mouth against yours. “But I’m not letting our first time be in a tent, babygirl. I want you on a bed,”

His hands slide up your stomach. “Spread out on the sheets,” he grips you at your ribs. “Making all those noises that only I can hear,” he tugs the lobe of your ear between his teeth and you bite back a gasp. “With the lights on.”

You feel the palms of his hands skate over your chest before he abruptly rolls himself off of you and hugs you against his chest again. “But you’re damn hard to resist.”

You’re practically panting into his throat, hands clenched in his hoodie. “You’re mean.”

He sighs happily. “Gotta build up your anticipation.”

You jerk a knee and hit his thigh. “Ass.”

He snickers. “You like it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Do it yourself.”

“I hate you.”

For a moment it’s just soft laughter between you, and finally you settle again, resting your hands against him. “I thought the carving was cute.”

“What carving?”

“The one you scratched into the picnic table. Chris hearts babygirl.”

He freezes against you. “I didn’t carve that.”

In a flash, the serene atmosphere shatters. “What do you mean you didn’t carve that? I saw it.”

He sits up, staring down at you in the dark. “I didn’t carve anything into the table.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I didn’t. I swear.” He says severely. “Maybe one of the guys did.”

“Wouldn’t they have written Chan? And my name? I called you Chris when we met. And that first day. I’ve only called you Chan ever since.” You’re panicking now, scooting yourself up to sit too. “Chan, who wrote that?”

Who else knew that you called him Chris?

Who else knew that he called you babygirl?

“When did you see it?” He demands. “How long has it been there?”

“I don’t know. I only saw it a little bit ago when we were sitting there after dinner. I saw you with the pocketknife. I thought you did it.”

You see him shake his head seriously. “I didn’t. Maybe it’s been there since that night. Maybe the host did it. If he’s been following us the whole time, he could have overheard us that first day.”

Your hands are shaking, panic clawing up your throat. “What if it hasn’t been there the whole time? Wouldn’t we have seen it? The guys would have seen it. They would have laughed at us.”

He makes you lay back down. “Breathe. Let’s just breathe. Maybe we had stuff on it until after dinner. Maybe we just couldn’t see it. It’s okay.”

You’re pressed into his chest again, sucking in lungfuls of air that smell like him. “But—”

“There’s nothing we can do about it tonight. Let’s say it’s been there since the day we got here. Let’s try to sleep. Okay? It’s okay. We’re okay.” He kisses your forehead and bands his arms tightly around your waist. “You’re safe. We’re safe. I promise.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

You lay in each other’s arms, whispering quiet conversation that has nothing to do with the fear that’s turning your blood cold.

Finally, when you can’t hear other campsites anymore and the flashes of light from other campers walking to and from the bathrooms stops shining against your tent, you find yourself drifting off.

You fall asleep with Chan’s voice singing sweetly in your ear.

Sometime later you’re awakened by his hand on your arm. “I’m gotta pee, I’ll be right back.” His hand swipes around the wall of the tent for the pocket with the keys. “I’ll just be outside.”

Through the heavy fog of sleep, you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek. You roll over into the warm spot that he leaves behind as he crawls over you. “Okay.” You murmur, and snuggle down into the sleeping bag.

You barely hear him work the zipper and clamber out, already slipping back into cozy slumber by the time he zips it back up.

Sleep drags at you so strongly that your decision to stay awake until he gets back is waylaid by dreams of waiting for him, but it’s only when the tent opens again and he slips back inside that you realize you had drifted off again.

Chan settles down on the side you had previously occupied, staying on top of the sleeping bag as he lays down behind you and drapes his arm over you. “Are you asleep?” He whispers.

You shake your head blearily, but you’re in and out.

An amused huff hits the back of your neck as he nuzzles into your hair. “You’re so cute.”

Scooting back into him, you tug the cuffs of your sleeves over your cold hands and bring the edge of the sleeping bag up to cover your nose. “Go to sleep.” You murmur. “I’m making you drive for me tomorrow.”

“Oh really?” He snickers, his hand gripping your hip over the layers.

it’s quiet for a few minutes, just long enough for you to go under again.

“You’re just so adorable.” He whispers. “I love watching you. You’re so focused when you work, so cute when you’re worried.”

“Chan.” You grumble. “Go to sleep.”

He kisses the back of your head, and then the shell of your ear. “That guy had no idea what he was doing when he cheated on you.”

You shoot a foot back, striking his knee in annoyance.

He keeps talking, whispering in your ear with heavy breaths. “I just couldn’t figure it out. Why he would throw you away like that if he was gonna be so fixated on you.”

You’re barely even trying to listen. You want to sleep. If you focus on his late night diatribe, you’re going to be wide awake until morning. So you cling to the weariness that still ebbs and flows on the edges of your consciousness and allow his words to be noise in the background.

“You never have to worry about that again, babygirl.”

A soft sigh escapes your chest as you lean back against the solid form of him behind you.

“You’re mine now. All mine.”

Managing a lethargic nod, you reach for his hand on your hip and grip it gently. “Sleep, Chan.”

“I’m sorry about Han.” He whispers against your skin. “It seemed like you really liked him.”

“I did. He was very kind.”

“It’s just that he’s the only one who left his tent that night.”

You stretch your toes to the end of your sleeping bag, only distantly aware enough to be miffed that he’s not in it with you.

“I usually do it that way. Waiting for an opportunity. People start to think they’re cursed by a ghost, it’s all in good fun.”

You’re awake in a snap of ice down your spine.

“But with you, it’s like I’m serving a purpose. Doing Woosung a favor. Carrying out his last wish.”

You jerk away, rolling over in a clumsy rush, arms and legs tangled in your oversized clothes and loose sleeping bag.

The man next to you snatches your hands in an iron grip. “It’s like my own personal side quest.”

Not Chan.

He’s huge. Even the silhouette of him in the dark boasts his long height beside you and the thick muscle packed on his body.

“No,” you tug against his hold, but he doesn’t let you budge, now laughing softly. When his voice rises above a whisper, you hear him plain as day. It’s not Chan’s voice. It’s low, gravely, the same one that told you about the Kingston Steps, the same one that bellowed an obnoxious greeting to you the night before Jisung died.

“Where is Chan?” You demand loudly. “No, let me go!” You open your mouth to scream, but his shadowed form rushes towards you and stars explode behind your eyes as his forehead smashes against yours.

Your voice dies off in a weakened whimper. You can’t move. You feel like a bird that’s crashed into a window, stunned, unresponsive.

The man yanks you closer, one arm slipping around your body and jerking you out of your sleeping bag. He covers your mouth with his hand as he hauls you out of your tent, breath huffing hotly against your ear.

Your socked feet scrape through the dirt as he drags you away from the campsite, into the woods.

He doesn’t falter as you try to thrash and bite, your body numbed by the blow to your head.

“You wanted Chan?” He whispers, and comes to an abrupt stop. He yanks your body towards a tree and waits until your eyes find what he’s pointing you towards. “There he is.”

Chan, on the ground, face down.

In the glow of moonlight, you see an inky wetness coating the back of his head, soaking through his hair.

A choked whimper tears up your throat, but doesn’t make it past his hand.

Your eyes stay fixed on Chan’s body, tears flooding your cheeks, heart aching in your chest. You can’t move. You can’t fight. Your arms hang limp at your sides, fingers tingling with numbness.

It wasn’t over.

You weren’t safe.

Chan couldn’t protect you.

The campground sleeps on peacefully as the man drags you off into the dead of night.

THE END

< last chapter | final >

tag list : @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella @babyphotos0325 @softfor-svtptg @furfoxsake22 @tubelightanyaa @kayleefriedchicken @rockstarkkami @sp1derst0rrr @eastjonowhere @its-stayville-forever @allenajade-ite @naraportokala @jinniejjam @blackberryrains @feetoffthemalfoy @highandalive @scarlet789 @ramadiiiisme @thecutiepieme @lemonn015 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @dreamingartist13 @ebnabi @bangtan-sonyeondamn8 @lemonn015 @thepoeticpurplepotato @brbwritingfanfic @skzlover24 @stephanieeeyang @my-neurodivergent-world @xgridx @igotajuicyass @annovaz @robinnotgood24 @butterflybananabread @tirena1 @nougatjade @wickedbutlovely @justiceforvillains @beewilko @nougatjade @ellelabelle @qwonyoung23 @hwangjoanna @akindaflora @uhnanix @staylovesmiley @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 @ateez-atiny380 @diekleinesuesse @skzswife @sspersonally @love-and-other-possibilities @inlovewithstraykids @igotajuicyass @beal-o

[greyyeti]

Railway and Red Lights 🤣🤣🤣

Pregnancy Prank

summary: you prank him by texting "I'm pregnant" and send a covid negative test image

pairing: skz x fem!reader

genre: humor

a/n: this was requested by @silly250 , and you can read han's first one here

~°~

Bang Chan

Lee Know

Seo Changbin

Hwang Hyunjin

Han Jisung

Lee Felix

Kim Seungmin

Yang Jeongin

-------------------

Permanent Taglist 1:

@lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos @silly250 @thecutiepieme @stay-tiny-things @inlovewithstraykids @skz-ot8-stay @emilyywhyy @havenwithleeknow @hungryhobbit815 @seungminnieinthebuilding @geni-627 @ye0lkkot @yaorzu-blog @butterflybananabread @nightshadeblooming @rockstarkkami @finannn @poody1608 @scarlet789 @mbioooo0000 @icannotbelieveit @casperlynn23 @rtyuy1346 @maddy24207 @ari-hwanggg @jisuperboard @nougatjade @skzlover24 @velvetmoonlght @unintentionalbee @theeonlywanii @enhacolor @aria-again @millannniii @silentreadersthings

[greyyeti]

🥰🥰🥰

Stray Kids When They See You Cuddling With Their Skzoo

Pairing: Gender-Neutral Reader x Stray Kids (individual)

Genres: Fluff, Established Relationship, and Slice of Life

Hyung Line-

Chan:

Lee Know:

Changbin:

Hyunjin:

Maknae Line-

Han:

Felix:

Seungmin:

I.N:

dividers by @/lausnotverybright and @/enchanthings-a

[greyyeti]

😏😏😏

You Live Like This? - pt. XII

Series master list PART 2 INFO

pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: home invader!Chris makes good on his promise to rob your ex to avenge your painful breakup, only to find that you're already there trying to collect your belongings. In order to keep your ex-bf from including you as an accomplice in his inevitable police report, you have to pretend you don't know the robber who keeps flirting with you. (plus like a lot more)

warnings: camping, murder, Ateez mentioned, mature.

word count: ~5k

As you halfway expected, the detective asks to speak with you individually. As he’s already talked to the others before you arrived, he pulls Chan aside first, leaving two police officers with the rest of your group.

“How are you guys doing?” One of the officers asks kindly. “I know this is all very difficult.”

Felix is the only one who has it in him to respond. “None of us are doing very well. Have you found anything? In the woods or at our old site?”

They’re hesitant to offer information when all of you are still possible suspects, but the one who spoke first seems to want to offer some comfort. “We’re still looking. We have a number of angles to follow up on at this point.”

That means nothing to you.

It sounds like a line; something out of a textbook that he’s regurgitating automatically whether it’s true or not.

He turns to Minho and Felix. “The two of you shared a tent with Han Jisung, right? He was with you when you all went to bed?”

Felix nods glumly. “We all stayed up talking for a while after we went into our tent for the night. He was the first to fall asleep. Must have been after midnight.”

Minho glances away and adds nothing. His body language is tense, angry. He looks like he’s seconds away from putting his fist through someone or something, and you can see tears shining in his eyes that don’t get the chance to fall before he blinks them away.

“How long have you all known each other?” The officer asks.

Part of you thinks he’s keeping any of you from talking to each other, eliminating any opportunity to get your stories straight on the chance that any of you are hiding something.

“A long time.” Felix says. “Over fifteen years now.” He shoots a glance at you. “Most of us.”

The officer turns to you. “And you’re not part of this group, right?”

You’re about to respond, to confirm the odd phrasing of the truth, when Seungmin looks up with narrowed eyes. “She is.” He says flatly. “We met her a few days ago, but she’s part of the group. We all moved to her campsite for God’s sake, what do you think?”

Surprised by the firmness in his tone and the aggravated claim to your presence, your eyes travel to where he sits near his tent.

He doesn’t look at you, but he isn’t looking at anyone. His jaw is tight, eyes hard, and you wonder if he’s being protective of your new role in the group or if he’s simply irritated over being questioned by the police.

“We kind of all got to know each other on this trip,” you say by way of explanation.

The police officer nods, uninterested in agitating the more testy members further. “I’m not accusing you of anything,” he says calmly.

You know he’s not.

They have your dash cam footage on file from the nights of both murders that put you in your tent with they happened.

“Nobody’s comfortable with any of this.” You mutter. “Being questioned over the loss of their friend doesn’t help.”

“We know.” The second officer finally speaks up. “But it’s necessary for the investigation.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes. “Our friend was murdered and you’re wasting time talking to us instead of finding his killer. Sounds like crack police work to me.”

“Anything you can tell us about what you’ve experienced might help us find who did it. You never know what might be important until it’s put into the right context.” The first police officer says.

As true as that undeniably is, it doesn’t put anyone at ease. It doesn’t erase the anger on their faces.

“Do you guys have enough food for the day? You’re welcome to make a run into town after we’re done with interviews.”

Interviews.

Interrogations.

You can’t take anything they say at face value. It all sounds like a good-cop manipulation routine to get your guards down, like they’re just waiting for you to inadvertently walk into a trap.

The others seem just as wary.

No one answers.

It takes nearly half an hour before the detective comes back with Chan. The detective is smiling, Chan is not.

Despite your paranoia, you can see that the smile the man bears is one of friendliness, probably put on for the sake of professionalism, but it doesn’t look like a gotcha smile.

He doesn’t give Chan a chance to come find you before he beckons you over.

You get up from your canvas chair, forcing your heart to settle. If you’re going to be weird and anxious, you have to make it look like fear and grief. You can’t be antsy about the information you’re not intending to share.

You can’t incriminate yourself.

When you approach the detective, he greets you with a kind grin and a warm handshake, calling you by name. “I’m Detective Davis. Are you ready to step over here and answer a few questions for me?”

Nodding mutely, you let him guide you a few yards away until you’re standing under the shade of a pine tree.

Davis pulls a notebook and pen out of his pocket, and gestures for you to sit in one of two camp chairs that he’s probably borrowed from the ranger station to cart around and conduct interviews more comfortably with.

“I know this is all very difficult. I understand you knew two of the victims personally.”

Before you confirm what he already knows, your mind goes back to what Changbin told you earlier about the murdered camper at the next site. “Two of the victims?”

Davis nods soberly. “There was a third killing at a campground the next state over. We’re working with local authorities and we believe it’s likely connected.”

“We saw an article posted about it.” You say quietly. “We didn’t know for sure that it was the same killer.”

“We don’t know that, for sure.” Davis agrees kindly. “But we’re acting as though it’s a possibility.”

You nod and fold your hands in your lap. “That’s horrible. Terrifying.”

“Yes.” Davis watches you carefully. “Let’s talk for a few minutes about the first victim. Kim Woosung.”

You straighten your spine, prepared to focus on his questions, but he just goes quiet and waits. Waiting for you to fill the silence. You know better than to let silence be his ally rather than yours. Instead of volunteering a demonstration of word vomit, you glance at his notebook. “What would you like to know?”

His mouth twitches slightly. “What was your relationship to him?”

“He was my ex boyfriend.”

Davis seems to pick up on the fact that you’re not inclined to carry the conversation by yourself, and spends a few minutes asking you how long it had been since your breakup, if you had parted on friendly terms, and if you had interacted in the days surrounding his death.

Once you’ve given him the main points, he asks you if you’d noticed anything strange or unusual in the days or moments leading up to the murder.

That’s when you pull your phone out. “Actually, I wanted to ask you if you had confirmed that the body you recovered was Woosung.”

His eyebrows lift with surprise and he flips back through his notebook. “I was under the impression that you had confirmed his identity yourself.”

You shake your head. “An officer came to my camp the next morning and showed me a picture of Woosung, one of his selfies, and asked if I knew him. At that point he told me that he had been found in the lake. I never saw the body.”

Davis leans forward, confusion furrowing his brow.

You know it must be fake, because he’d just spoken to Chan. Chan would have told him all of the odd things you’d been seeing.

He just wants to see your version of the story.

“Why would you think it wasn’t him?”

You log into your phone and find the Instagram post that Chan had uploaded of the two of you this morning. “Because his Instagram account commented on a post this morning. And then he made a post a few hours ago. It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You show him the posts in question, and watch him scan them quickly and then take notes before handing your phone back. “It is possible, of course, that someone else is logged into his account and pranking you.” He offers carefully.

“Did you recover his phone from his campsite?” You ask.

His smile turns terse. “We’ll look into the Instagram account, don’t worry. But I can put your mind at ease and confirm that his body was positively identified by DNA and next of kin.”

“By his girlfriend?”

“His girlfriend?”

“He said he was traveling with his current girlfriend. I assume she identified him.”

Davis finally seems genuinely confused. “No one was camping with Woosung. He had a solo camp site, and only his gear and belongings were present.”

For a second you just stare at him. There was no girlfriend. Of course there was no girlfriend. He’d thrown that out there to see how you reacted. Just to see if he could hurt you with it.

You should have just asked Chan. He’d stolen firewood from Woosung’s camp that first night. He would have noticed that no one else was camping with him.

Finally, you let out a scoff. “Figures.”

“You think he lied about having a girlfriend to make you jealous?”

You shrug. “Or to seem less pathetic.”

Davis makes a note in his book. “Now about the second victim. Han Jisung. You had only met him recently?”

“On the second day of my trip, yes.” You confirm. “He was very friendly and helped me with my campsite, and we hung out a little for the next two days until he…” you close your eyes and clear your throat. “Until that day.”

“And did anything unusual happen during those days? Did you notice anybody lurking or passing by your camp a few times too many?”

Now you pull up the dash cam clip of the camp host. You show him the footage of the guy arriving, sticking the note on the window, and talking to you and Chan before driving off. “Chan and I first met this guy on the second day of the trip. He was working at a gas station we stopped at, dressed as a cashier. He checked out my snacks. Then the night that Jisung died he showed up with grounds gear and acted like a camp host. We went and talked to the rangers, and they say he doesn’t work here. He’s not even a volunteer.”

Davis looks at your phone, at the still shot of the man’s face, but he doesn’t study it. You know Chan must have showed it to him already. “And you haven’t seen him except for those two times?”

You shake your head. “No. That’s all.”

He nods once and puts his notebook away. “I don’t know if you’re aware of the murders that happened last summer. They followed the same path, from Hyndrangea Falls to Red Ridge.”

You blink. Red Ridge is the final campground you’re booked at, the last one before you arrive at the hotel where you would have slept the night of the concert. “The same campgrounds?”

“And we believe the same killer.”

You feel your spine relax. “So, following the pattern, do you think he’ll come back? Are we safe?”

The detective smiles again. “I believe you’re safe. He didn’t commit multiple murders at the same campground last year. It was three, one at each park, and then nothing until this year.”

“So he’s not following us.”

He wags his head like you’re both right and wrong. “He hunts from the same groups. Last year it was friends traveling. This year it’s a group of people headed to a concert.”

That doesn’t comfort you at all. He was targeting you.

Maybe not you specifically, but he had selected your group to hunt from.

It could have been you.

“How? Why?”

Davis lifts his eyebrows. “How did you choose these campgrounds to book for your trip?”

“I used an app.” Realization dawns on you. “We all did. It mapped the route for us and booked everything in-app.”

“ShowTripper?” He guesses.

Your stomach turns. “Yeah.”

“The app has a forum for people using the same route to join and get to know each other. We believe the killer uses the app to keep tabs on the groups he’s hunting. He would have known exactly where and when you were traveling.”

You feel stupid. Of course an app like that would have presented security concerns. Of course a serial killer could have used it as the perfect road map.

How had you missed that?

“Oh my god.”

“I know. It’s scary.” Davis says softly. “We’ve been trying to push for the developers to tighten up their screening and shut down the forum. It’s a safety nightmare.”

He’s right about that.

“The man you just showed me is our main suspect.” Davis continues. “We’ve got a few images like you have, him popping up in all of the corresponding places with different disguises. We haven’t been able to ID him yet. He’s smart. He covers his tracks. But we’re looking for him. Since he’s already moved on to Red Ridge, we’re confident that he won’t be doubling back. You guys are free to travel on after today, though I advise you in the future to be cautious of apps and websites that package your bookings like this.”

You nod, feeling sick. “I can assure you, I’ll never be doing that again.”

“That’s good.” Davis smiles again. “Be careful out there, and I’m very sorry for your loss.”

You blink. “That’s it? We just go home?”

Davis lifts himself out of his chair, and you stand too. “You’ve been very helpful, Miss, thank you for speaking with me.” He shakes your hand and nods back to your site. “I’ll walk you back.”

The police are gone by dinner. The campers are free to go. Park rangers inform everyone they have to be out by one o’clock the next afternoon so they can reopen the campground and honor future reservations.

It all feels so wrong.

So unfinished.

The killer has struck three times. The pattern is complete. For the second year in a row, he’s in the wind.

You’re all expected to just travel home and go on with your lives knowing the killer who hunted you is still out there.

“Told you it wasn’t a ghost.” Seungmin remarks to Felix.

Changbin and Minho have just returned from a grocery run and are preparing dinner while the others try to plan a way home.

Felix shakes his head with a grumble. “It was still stupid to go up the steps. You don’t just ignore curses. You don’t know what could be possible.”

“That’s probably why he does it.” Hyunjin muses. “Chan hyung said he was the one who told them the story about the ghost. What if he kills people to propagate the legend?”

You’d wondered if that was the motive yourself. Other than choosing victims from the same groups, the killings seem so random. It sounds more like the campgrounds are the pattern than the people.

“He did push it kinda hard,” you say. “Like he wanted to make sure we were aware of it. I didn’t know anything about it until he told us.”

Chan brings you a bottle of water, sitting next to you. “Did you notice there was a huge display of souvenirs and stuff for the Kingston Steps right in front of his register? If the ghost story is his thing, it’s no accident that he pretended to be a cashier right in front of that display.”

“Did you guys ever call the gas station?” Changbin wonders, speaking loudly over the crackling of the flames.

You shake your head. “I didn’t.”

Chan grimaces. “I don’t have my receipt anymore. I wouldn’t even know which one to call.”

“I still have mine,” you reach to your pocket for your car keys. “I put it in my trip folder so I can keep account of my expenses.”

“So organized.” He teases, grinning at you. “We should call.”

“You should call,” you correct, already getting up and moving to your car. “You came up with that story for the rangers, you can probably come up with something better than I could to get an ID on that guy.”

Chan shrugs humbly, but there’s a flushed edge of pride to his smile at your acknowledgment. “Sure, if you want me to.”

It takes you only a moment to thumb through the receipts you’ve tucked in a zipper pocket of your binder before you pull out the wrinkled one that lists the drinks and snacks you bought from that gas station.

“Here, it’s got the time and location and the cashier’s name on it.” You hand the slip of thermal paper to Chan, and sit back down in your seat.

He slides his phone out of his pocket, quickly Googling the gas station and finding the phone number.

The guys gather around him, crouching in the dirt to listen.

Chan puts the call on speaker, tapping his fingers against his knee as the dial tone sounds. He checks his watch.

It’s only 5pm. Even if it’s a corporate phone number, it’s possible that someone should still be in the office to answer.

The tense silence only lasts a few seconds.

“FlyBy Quick Pit, this is Emi speaking, how can I help you?” The crackling voice of a young woman answers, and the sounds of barcode beeping and soft music fills the background.

Chan flinches, lurching towards the microphone. “Yeah, hi, I stopped by your location a few days ago and I think I left something in the store. Last time I remember seeing it, I handed it to the cashier and I don’t think I got it back.”

“What is it that you’re missing?” Emi asks distractedly, not sounding at all interested in Chan’s dilemma.

“Can I speak to your manager please?” Chan asks politely, ignoring the question.

Her tone comes back dry and impatient. “I’m the shift manager. Can you tell me what you’re missing?”

He rambles on as though he’s miserable at getting to the point. “Oh and I have the receipt for when I was there. It was five days ago at 2:35pm. My receipt says the cashier’s name was Jin. He was a tall guy, light brown hair, super nice, with facial hair. Like a mustache I think. I handed him my fuel rewards card.”

Emi pauses. “You can look up your account number and order a new card. In the meantime, your phone number will access your rewards at the pump. Is there anything else?”

Chan stiffens with panic and Hyunjin reaches for the phone. Chan smacks his hand away. “No, you see, my card has a collectible skin on it. I can’t just get another one. I really need that card back. If I can just talk to Jin, that would be great.”

Terse silence ticks by, and every one of you holds your breath.

Emi sighs heavily. “Jin is the manager who was on duty, but he’s not how you described him. The register was logged in for him. Can you describe the clerk any further?”

Chan squeezes his eyes shut, trying to recall details while you scramble to pull up your screenshot again. “Yeah, okay, he was a tall guy, like maybe six foot. Medium build, kind of muscular. Definitely muscular, he wasn’t lanky or anything. He had like a squarish face.”

It’s not much in the way of a description, but you wouldn’t have anything else to add even after looking at the picture.

The guy is almost generic in features, except for his obvious height and build.

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong gas station, and I’m not finding anything in lost and found.” Emi says with finality.

“No, it was definitely your location. I’m looking at the receipt right now.” Chan argues desperately.

“I’m sorry, sir, no one who works here fits that description. I’m the hiring manager. I can assure you you’ve got the wrong store. Good luck finding your card, have a good evening.” She hangs up.

Chan falls back in his chair, head swiveling to stare at you. “So if she wasn’t just blowing me off, he doesn’t actually work there either.”

“Dude the collectible card skin was a stroke of genius. How did you think of that?” Felix praises, eyes shining with admiration.

Jeongin snorts, elbowing him. “Because he’s got Seonghwa on his credit card.”

“So if he doesn’t work at the gas station and he doesn’t work at the park, there’s no way of finding him. How will the police even track him down? They’ve got his picture and they still can’t identify him.” Hyunjin straightens and turns to follow Changbin back to the cookfire with Minho.

It’s a good question.

How can someone have his picture out there and still remain unfound?

You don’t know anything about actual police work or the investigative process, but you would think that it’s unlikely for a known suspect to go so long without being caught.

Chan puts his phone back in his pocket and reaches for his hand. “I don’t know, but it’s all out of our hands. Davis said he’s likely done, at least for the year. And since we’re leaving tomorrow, there’s nothing we can do.”

“So, what, we just forget about it? Let it go? Some fucker killed Jisung and we just move on?” Jeongin shakes his head in anger.

“We’re not cops.” Chan says calmly. “We don’t have the means or the resources to do any more than we’ve already done.”

You feel helpless.

You’re not detectives. You can’t get to the bottom of Jisung and Woosung’s murders. You don’t get to discover all the details together and wrap the case up with a neat bow.

All you can do is go home and keep an eye on the news and hope that one day they catch him.

It sucks.

It feels like you should be able to do more. Like you should have the right to follow it through to the end.

But you know that’s not how it works.

“Dinner’s ready.” Minho announces, already placing trays on the picnic table.

The guys get up and circle the table, shuffling to make room for each other on the benches, but you stay seated, lost in thought.

You’re going home tomorrow.

Headed back to your damaged apartment, to see the remnants of your ruined collection, to be reminded of your murdered ex boyfriend everywhere you look.

Hopefully your parents have dealt with the police. Hopefully they’ve fixed the door and put reinforcing locks on it. Your dad would handle that for sure. Maybe they’ve even cleaned up the mess for you, so you won’t have to see it.

But that shelf will still be empty.

Chan pulls you up, eyes wide and searching yours. “You gonna be okay?” He asks softly, holding your hand tight. “It’s okay if you’re not, you know.”

He’s sweet. He’s a breath of fresh air. Even just his voice pulls you from the depths of your thoughts.

“I’m okay.” Your voice is quiet. “But it sucks.”

He nods. He reaches for you, sliding his free hand around the curve of your waist. “Yeah, it does. But it won’t be like this forever.”

It won’t.

The fear will fade.

The grief will soften.

You may never go camping again.

Things will be different.

You won’t be lost in an uncertain wilderness forever.

“Do you think it’s really over?” You wonder, allowing yourself to step closer to him.

He’s thoughtful as he answers. “I think the only way this guy hasn’t gotten caught is because he sticks to a meticulous pattern. He’s already completed it. I think it’s over.”

That feels right.

It’s the only thing that’s actually comforted you all day.

“I’m kinda hungry.” You murmur, and watch his eyes crinkle with a fond smile.

“I can fix that.” He presses a kiss to your lips that barely lasts more than a heartbeat, and tugs you over to the picnic table.

After a few light hearted shoves at Changbin’s arm, he makes space for the two of you and urges you to sit first so he can take the last narrow edge of the bench.

Food fills your plate and distracted conversation reaches your ears, and you settle in to dinner with determination to forget everything for the rest of the evening.

“So, we’re getting hotels on the way back, right?” Felix asks hopefully, glancing at Minho next to him. “Sorry, Hyung, but I don’t think I can take anymore camping right now.”

Minho just nods reassuringly and places another piece of meat on Felix’s plate.

“We’re definitely getting hotels.” Seungmin agrees. “And booking through official websites.”

You couldn’t agree more. You’ll have to spend some time tonight mapping your own route home. Maybe you’ll book one hotel at a time, and take it day by day.

“And no going through the same states we took to get here.” Jeongin adds. “Even if it takes longer to get home, we should take a different route.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Changbin complains. “If we go around, it’ll add two extra days to our trip.”

Chan reaches over you to flick the man’s ear. “We’ll take the different route. Two extra days is okay. We’ll need to cancel our reservations at the hotel we already booked, too.”

“That hotel is gonna lose so much business this weekend.” Hyunjin mutters. “Do you think anyone will notice that everybody who was on this trip won’t be showing up to the concert?”

“People are probably still going.” Seungmin argues. “Not everybody had the same experience we had. They probably just see it as a freak delay. A story to tell their friends.”

They hadn’t all lost people.

Nobody else had suffered the murder of an ex boyfriend.

Nobody else had suffered the murder of a best friend.

They probably already left, speeding on down the road to try to make the concert in time.

“I don’t even want to go to the concert anymore.” Jeongin mutters. “It doesn’t even sound fun.”

Not without Jisung.

Not after this.

“It will be good to be home.” You say, trying to steer the conversation back in a positive direction. “I miss my bed. And my dogs.”

“Me too.” Hyunjin says.

“Will you go back with us?” Chan asks you. He puts a piece of meat on your plate, watching you eat with fondness on his face. “You’re welcome to follow our route back.”

You can’t help but feel a little distanced at the way he’s phrased it. Like he’s shifting you back into the friendzone.

Is that a good thing?

Should you let it happen?

Should you just part ways with him now and try to forget as much of this trip as possible?

“Yeah, we’d love to have you.” Felix says cheerfully. “And honestly it would make me feel better to know you got home safe.”

Changbin makes a noise of agreement, and Minho nods silently again.

“Plus we can help you drive.” Hyunjin offers. “So you’re not doing it all by yourself.”

It’s enticing. So enticing that acceptance is on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back. “Oh, I don’t know—” you should cut Chan loose. If he’s pushing you away anyway, you might as well take the opportunity.

You try to ignore the sting in your chest at the thought.

But then he leans closer to you, until his arm is pressed wholly against yours. “I want you to. I would really like it if you stayed with us.”

All rational thought flies straight out of your head. “Really?” Maybe he’d just phrased the invitation casually to hold off the jeering of the others. Maybe he’d been trying to save you from their teasing at his obvious attempts to keep you close.

His eyes flicker with surprise. “Yes. I want you to come with me. If you want to, of course, but—”

“Oh, he definitely wants his girlfriend to come.” Seungmin comments smartly. “Who wants to bet he drives her the whole way?”

Chan flushes beet red.

“Anybody know where he slept last night?” Changbin asks innocently, scooping food into his mouth as though it will save him from the smack Chan delivers to the back of his head.

“She knows.” Minho utters flatly.

“Imagine our surprise,” Changbin fakes a cough. “Not,” he coughs again. “When he came crawling out of her tent this morning. All glowy and shit.”

You could die in your plate of food. “It wasn’t like that—”

They’re not listening to you.

“Yeah he snuck out of our tent pretty late last night.” Jeongin smirks at you. “Imagine what we could have thought. A killer running around and he sneaks out.”

That is finally a valid point. “Yeah, and you know what he did?” You speak up, vindicated.

All eyes turn to you with curious delight as Chan buries his face in his hands.

“He started scratching around the door of my tent—then unzipped it slowly—all without announcing himself. I thought I was gonna die.”

“Oh my god.” Chan groans.

The table erupts.

“Dude what the fuck.” Seungmin deadpans.

“You asshole.” Changbin is cackling, nearly choking on a bite of chicken, stretching his arm around your back to punch at Chan’s arm.

“That’s so mean, you scared her.” Felix stares at him, then at you with adorable pity.

“I was terrified.” You agree easily, taking a bite.

Chan shoots you an apologetic look, but he’s too busy drowning in humiliation to come up with a response.

“How romantic.” Jeongin laughs. “Finally get a girl to look at you and you scare the pants off her.”

“Yeah that’s not how you’re supposed to get them off.” Minho says dryly.

“Hey.” Chan snaps, finally lifting his head. “Don’t be disrespectful. She’s sharing her camp with you.”

You lay a hand on his arm and shake your head at Minho as he glances at you, abashed. “No. It’s fine. You guys are fine. That didn’t happen, by the way.”

Hyunjin nearly falls over laughing. “Wow, you put on all the sketchy moves and she didn’t fall for it? Crazy.”

Chan groans, falling into his hands again. “This is hell.”

“Maybe if he had texted first.” You respond casually, eyes innocently on your plate, and smirk with satisfaction as it sets the guys off all over again.

Through the cackling and teasing, Chan meets your eyes with a wicked grin. “You think you’re funny?”

You just shrug, listening to Hyunjin make kissy noises across the table.

Chan’s hand drops to your leg, sliding across your thigh with a punishing squeeze that no one else can see.

Your breath catches in your throat.

He just turns away and tunes back into the conversation, laughing along, but there’s a dangerous promise in the way his fingertips creep towards the inside of your thigh and rest there firmly.

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[greyyeti]

It’s been awhileeeee!!! But as always, I’m loving every friggin chapter!

You Live Like This? - pt. XI

Series master list PART 2 INFO

pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: home invader!Chris makes good on his promise to rob your ex to avenge your painful breakup, only to find that you're already there trying to collect your belongings. In order to keep your ex-bf from including you as an accomplice in his inevitable police report, you have to pretend you don't know the robber who keeps flirting with you. (plus like a lot more)

warnings: camping, murder, Ateez mentioned, mature.

word count: ~3k

You’ve never been a woman of particularly delicate constitution, but this camping trip has been testing your limits.

What are you supposed to assume?

That your ex boyfriend is back from the dead?

Or that he never actually died?

Is he a ghost?

Was it all an elaborate hoax?

Is he a zombie? The type that can use Instagram?

Did he fake his own death just to fuck with you?

Whatever happened, if that was the end goal, it’s a successful one. It’s fucking with you.

Chan stands over you worriedly, one hand braced on your car next to yours and one still clutching his phone. “Hey, breathe.” He says softly. “No matter what’s going on, we’ll be okay. Alright? You’ll be okay.”

“My dead ex boyfriend just posted on Instagram.” You bite out through a ragged breath. “I’m not okay.”

Changbin appears next to you, prying your overnight bag out of your hand. “Do you need to sit down? Come over to the bench.” He glances over your shoulder at Chan, and then at the post that Woosung made.

You don’t want to sit down. It won’t help. You don’t feel like you’re going to collapse, you feel like you’re going to be sick. “I want to take a shower.” You mutter. “I want to take a shower.”

Chan pockets his phone and slides his arm around your waist, easing you back from the car when your feet don’t move. “That’s a good idea.” He takes the bag from Changbin. “We’re gonna go change and shower. We’ll be back.”

“You look pale.” Changbin says to you, still worried. “Do you want something to eat before you go? Can you walk?”

You can’t find it in yourself to be grateful for the concern he’s offering you, rather shaking your head. If you eat anything, you’re likely to throw it all up again. “No. I’m good.”

The guys stand back, looking as shell shocked as you feel, and watch you and Chan leave again. You can hear them talking amongst themselves as soon as you’re away from the camp, and it sounds like a lot of accusations towards Woosung being thrown around.

You can’t make sense of any of it.

Is Woosung the real killer?

Is it the guy in your footage?

Is it both of them?

The questions follow you into the restroom, into the shower stall, under the scalding water, until they fill your senses like the steam that rises from your skin.

The soap doesn’t scrub off the shock. The water doesn’t rinse off the fear. Your skin turns pink and raw from your wash cloth and the panic in your gut just sinks claws deeper into your bloodstream.

When you step out of the shower and move to the mirror, your reflection is obscured by a layer of condensation that feels like an accurate representation of your current sense of self.

Foggy. Obscured. Unreachable.

You can wipe the mirror to find your face, but no matter how hard you try to scramble to get out of the confusion, the smoke shrouding your thoughts doesn’t clear.

When you leave the restroom and step back under the blistering sun, your clothes stick to the dampness of your skin and you realize that you’d barely dried yourself before struggling into your clothes.

Chan is waiting for you outside, similarly in weather appropriate clothes, but he looks more put together than you do.

It’s not fair.

You should be able to let this all roll off your back. If your ex is screwing with you, you should be able to ignore it and pretend he can’t get to you.

That’s what you do when an ex tries to haunt you.

Right?

You’re supposed to pretend you’re untouchable.

Maybe the rules are different when people are dying.

Maybe they’re different when your ex is supposed to be dead.

“Feel better?” Chan approaches you with an easy smile that is meant to make him appear calm and unbothered.

You can see the cracks in his mask, the tension around his eyes and mouth that tells you he’s just as worried as you are.

“I feel cleaner,” you say honestly. “Not as suffocated.” You gesture to your oversized tee shirt and shorts. “Thank you for waiting.”

He reaches for your hand. “Of course. No one is going anywhere or doing anything alone until we know we’re safe from this. Don’t worry.”

You feel a little bit better, but your mind goes back to Jisung. Had he been in the tent with his friends when the killer had taken him? Had they been together and safe?

Could you really protect each other from this?

Chan waves his phone at you, and for a second you think he has another horrible Instagram post to show you. You may never use Instagram again after this. But he just shoots you a small smile and nods towards the camp. “Minho says the detective is ready to talk to us. You ready to head back?”

You’re so relieved that it’s not more news from a ghost that you automatically nod. “I just need to check something,” you shuffle your overnight bag and sleep clothes under one arm and reach into your pocket for your own phone. “I need to look at my doorbell footage from the day I left. Or maybe the day after. I want to confirm that it was Woosung who broke into my apartment.”

He immediately gives himself the job of guiding you in a straight line back to your site, allowing you to keep your face buried in your phone as you walk.

“It’s great that you have so many cameras,” he says conversationally. “I don’t remember you having a doorbell camera at your old house.”

You shoot him a sideways glance. “Yeah, no offense, but you’re kind of the reason my brother came down on me pretty hard about not having one.”

His expression freezes. “Right.” A moment passes. “You told your brother about it? But I didn’t actually rob you.”

You’ve got your footage pulled up now, scrolling back to the couple of days surrounding when you left for your trip. “You snuck around my house and held a knife to my throat. I had to talk to someone. It’s not like I had extra money for counseling.”

He sucks in a low breath, hand tightening around your waist. “I’m sorry.”

You’re so far past the relatively minimal trauma of the event now that you’re in the middle of this absurd murder spree that it genuinely doesn’t bother you to offer a distracted shrug. “It’s fine now. Don’t worry about it.”

Chan scoffs, and you feel his arm clench against you. “I really am an ass, aren’t I? I bet your brother hates me.”

“I didn’t hate you.” You offer easily. “I told him you were a work friend playing a dumb prank. He would have made me go to the police otherwise. He thinks you were just messing around and that we hung out and watched tv with pizza.”

He’s surprised by this. He obviously hadn’t expected you to cover for him even while you were dealing with the effects of his actions. “I bet he still hates me.”

“He hates my nondescript former coworker who has a fucked up sense of humor. He doesn’t know you.”

Chan is quiet for a minute, steering you around potholes in the road as you scrub through footage. “I’m really no good for you.”

Your finger pauses on the screen momentarily. His words replay in your head, sounding more and more ridiculous with each repetition. “You were a dumbass when we met. Now, you’ve inconvenienced yourself a dozen times to show me care and kindness. You’re not irredeemable, you’re a person experiencing growth. At least from my point of view.”

“You might be biased.” He mutters, an obscure way of accusing you of being blinded by emotion.

“These are quite literally the worst things that have ever happened to me, and you’ve been by me through all of it, when you didn’t have to. You still don’t have to. No matter what you do for the rest of your life, what you’ve done these past few days make all the difference to me. Think of yourself what you like, but you’ve kept me from doing all of this alone. That matters.”

It matters to you.

Maybe it doesn’t matter to him, or convince him that his perhaps insignificant actions towards you have altered his character in any positive way, but it’s you he’s talking to, so it’s your opinion that frames your feedback. That’s all you can offer.

If it’s not good enough for him, that’s for him to deal with.

“There he is.” The revelation escapes you in a whisper.

Right there in the playback footage, Woosung. He’s in a dark blue hoodie, smiling and waving at your camera like it’s no secret, right before he hauls back and puts his foot through your door.

“That fucker.” Chan mutters, leaning over your shoulder. “What day was this?”

“The day I left.” You screenshot the still, and save the clip to your archive. “Hours after I headed out.”

More questions circle your thoughts as your feet carry you closer to the campsite where the police are waiting for you. Do you tell them about everything related to Woosung? If you tell them that you just discovered him breaking into your apartment and then presumedly following you across the country, they’re going to ask you what might have prompted him to target you.

And even if you didn’t tell them, they would investigate. They would find his polite report from when Chan broke into his house. They would find Woosung’s statement that you were there, in another room, the whole time, and that you refused to speak to the police about it.

In all likelihood, if you keep your mouth shut now, their investigation will put you alone under suspicion. They may never learn that Chan was part of it.

If you don’t tell them about your complacency in Chan’s robbery, you’re the only one who will take the fall for it. And who’s to say Woosung didn’t tell someone about his suspicions about you and Chan? It certainly looks like he told the fake camp host, who left one of Woosung’s notes on your window.

You’ll be directly under the spotlight of suspicion.

Maybe not for the murders, but certainly as an accessory to armed robbery.

You just had to go and fall for Chan and make this complicated for yourself.

The dilemma is enough to make you pocket your phone and bring your attention back to the man walking next to you.

What are you supposed to do? Just rat him out? Ask him to come clean with you, so you don’t take the fall alone?

Do you like him enough to protect him and pay the price?

You will literally be paying the price.

It will literally be money out of your carefully cultivated bank account just to protect the allegedly straight edge life he’s created for himself.

You both rose from the mire of destitution and built your lives back up into good standing, and yours is the only one that’s going to be set back because of this?

He gets to keep moving forward with career success and social development while you trudge through the criminal legal system on your ass?

It’s in your power to drag him down with you.

But it’s not in your character.

You’re not inclined to show your gratitude for his presence and companionship in this nightmare by giving him up the first chance you get. What you said to him was true. You needed him these past few days. The day that you learned of Woosung’s murder, you very likely could have driven yourself off the road if he hadn’t stepped in.

Even now, you’re terrified of the danger that you’re living in, and he’s still beside you, even though one of his own was ripped away.

You can never thank him properly for not making you go through this alone, but protecting his past is the most you can do. Even if you grow to resent him for taking the fall for his actions, even if you can’t bear to continue whatever relationship this is after your life falls apart for a second time, you can’t bring yourself to throw him under the bus just so you don’t go down alone.

It’s not who you are.

You can’t fix the obvious mistake of assisting him in revenge against Woosung by taking out more revenge against Chan.

That’s not how you come out of this with growth and betterment.

Maybe the only way up is down.

It’s bitter medicine, but it feels better than pulling him underwater with you.

Your feet halt in their path, and you turn to Chan. His hand slips down your back at the change of position, and he blinks down at you in surprise. “Don’t tell them what you did.” You say seriously.

His jaw clenches.

You grip his arm, digging your fingertips into the muscle. “Don’t tell them about my old house or Woosung’s apartment. If they find out, they find out. But you don’t have to lay it all out there voluntarily.”

“Isn’t it worse to hide it and be discovered later?” He asks gruffly, glancing over your shoulder to your campsite.

You shrug. You don’t know the ins and outs of criminal law. “That’s your call. But I’m okay with just telling them what we’ve found out about Woosung and leaving out all the rest.”

Chan’s eyes search yours, obviously conflicted. He knows it’s a slippery slope to withhold things from the police, that it’s a bad idea to try to get away with anything, but the idea of giving up everything he’s worked for in one fell swoop is too devastating to surrender to.

Still, he seems to realize that you’re likely to be implicated in the crime, and he shakes his head with a groan. “This is a mess. I’ve gotten you into such a mess.”

You got yourself into this mess.

You didn’t have to text him Woosung’s address. You didn’t have to tell him what to steal. You didn’t have to go out with him, or try to maintain contact. And you certainly didn’t have to fall headfirst into whatever this dynamic is now.

“I made all the choices that got me here.” You refute simply. “I think you should only give necessary details. Think about your work. Your life. That all goes away if you just come clean.”

It’s his choice.

If he wants to live a life of transparency and suffer all the consequences that go with it, that’s his choice.

But you need to know the plan before you go in there and potentially give conflicting information to the detective.

“Just what we’ve learned about Woosung.” Chan repeats carefully. He checks your expression again, to see if his resignation is a test that he’s failed.

At the relief on your face, he looks a little more resolute. “Necessary information only.”

You nod. “And the fake gas station cashier slash camp host.”

He’s quiet for a second, rethinking. No matter how much guilt he feels over the impact he’s had on your life, the fear of losing everything seems to outweigh his conscience.

Chan pulls you closer, slipping both arms around your waist, pressing you to his chest. “It’s going to be okay,” he says, but you’re not sure who he’s reassuring. “No matter what, I’ll make sure everything’s okay.”

You lean into his embrace. It’s hot and muggy and your wet hair is sticking to the back of your neck, but you can’t give up this moment for the sake of relative comfort.

He’s a complication in your life, for sure.

He’s a fucking trainwreck, and he might have derailed you right along with him.

But damn it if your heart doesn’t still flutter when he holds you.

“Are you sure you want to keep being around me?” He asks softly. “I’m serious. If you want me to back off and get out of your life, I will. I don’t want to ruin you.”

It would be smart to take him up on the offer. It would be wise, even, to recuse yourself from him now and let whatever happens to him not drag you down too.

Maybe after this trip is over, you will step back. Maybe you’ll lose his number, maybe you’ll look for a companion who doesn’t have a record.

Right now you don’t want him to go anywhere. It’s not his protection that keeps you clinging to him, though that does comfort you. You want him to keep looking at you like you’re something he wants. You want him to keep holding you like you’re the only person on earth.

You want to keep listening to him talk, to keep watching him teach you camping skills, to keep feeling the way you feel when he’s next to you.

“I’m sure.” You say, holding him tighter. “Please don’t leave.”

That’s all he needs to silence his doubts. Chan eases back slightly, peering into your eyes with the softest gaze you’ve ever seen. “Then I’m with you.” He pushes strands of your stringy hair away from where it’s stuck to your temples. “We’ll get through this.”

You nod, and finally feel like you’re breaking through the fog.

He’s just a guy.

He’s just the person who happened to be in your house that night.

A thousand other guys could someday make your heart pound like this.

And yet, despite everything, he’s the one you want. He’s finally in your life the way you wanted for the past few months, and you don’t want to let go.

Chan hooks a finger under your chin and brings your lips to meet his, stealing your breath. You kiss him back, melting into him like he can give you all the strength you need to go talk to the police.

“Are you ready?” He breathes against your mouth, and kisses you again.

He’s hot and firm against you, his chest thrumming beneath your hands with the racing beat of his heart. You don’t know if it’s your effect on him or if it’s anxious anticipation for whatever comes next, but you don’t care.

You’re just as confused.

When the kiss finally breaks, it takes considerable strength to lean away from him. “I’m ready.”

You’re not.

But it has to be done.

< last chapter | next chapter >

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