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odigaon · 11 months ago

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༉‧₊˚💍ִֶ ࣪˖ let me stay, I'm ready now bangchan x f!reader

sequel to ୧ ‧₊🎧 let me in your ocean, swim

I decided it’s time to do this last Sunday, when we woke up in your bed, with the sun slanting in through the blinds and right into your face, and you whined and threw yourself into my arms with an annoyed little grunt, trying to escape this blinding light. You caressed your fingers down my side and nuzzled your face into my chest, pressed a soft kiss to the skin, and then fell asleep again. Like an angel. My own personal angel, with some remnants of make-up still smudged around your eyes, the smell of your perfume still in your hair. The soft skin of your body pressed against mine. OR A few years down the line, Chan sits down and reflects on your love. because there's something he wants to ask you.

word count: 5.2k words

author's note: so ... this may be pushing the boundaries of an x reader fic, but believe it or not, it's hard to write a love confession to a character that isn't allowed to have any traits. it's hard enough when it's just physical. if it feels better to you to treat her as an OC, do that. but overall, I don't think it's too bad. I don't think that let me in your ocean swim, even though it's my most popular, is my best work. but I've had this happy ending for them sitting in my drafts for a long time and I felt compelled to finish it today though calling it a happy ending isn't really true. it's a happy beginning of the rest of their lives. and even though it's from his perspective, this is a love letter to chan. my love letter to him is to write him a love that is pure, safe, eternal. a love that makes him bloom, that equally soothes and challenges him to be the best he can be, because the best loves do that. and to anyone reading this - loves like these exist. they're out there. trust me.

warnings: swearing, mentions of unprotected sex, oral, use of sex toys, but no explicit sex scenes. mentions of self doubt and a smidge of (healthy) jealousy, but nothing bad at all.

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

My love,

I’m sitting in the studio as I write this. I left your place maybe three hours ago. Woke up at 11, the kind of lie-in that I would never have in the dorms, no matter how late I went to bed. You were already long gone to work. Probably got up at your usual time, unfolding yourself from my arms at 7am, pressing a sweet kiss to my forehead. So the place was quiet, the sheets cold, but they smelled like you, as always. Your plushie was sitting, all prim and proper on your pillow. I’m not ashamed to say that I took it and hugged it close after you left. I love that little thing.

I got up, made the bed, made coffee. Cleaned the coffee machine because I know you hate doing it because the smell of the old coffee grounds and the mould makes you nauseous. And I don’t mind. I had time. Because I cleared my schedule, booked this studio the entire day, so I could sit down and write this.

It was the morning after the JYP Christmas party. The one we went to together-but-not-together. Separately for most of the night. You in that dress you picked out last week when I nearly passed out when you walked out of the bedroom to show me – not because it was tight or showed off any cleavage, it was for a work event after all, but because it hugged your thighs in a way that made me a little lightheaded and the colour made your skin shimmer and your eyes glow, and you just looked so sinfully good in the way you always do. Sinfully good because you look confident, self-assured, but also gorgeous, in an intelligent way. Also, because I have the privilege of knowing what you look like naked, and because I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen – but I’m biased in that way.

Wow, I just got distracted, didn’t I. I could just delete that part, but since the point of this thing I’m writing is to show you how much I love you, I will leave it in. I hope it will at least make you chuckle at me.

But back to the Christmas party. The kids and I were sat at one end of the room, with all the other talent, and you were at the other. Surrounded by staff. The other producers, some executives. JYP himself. I saw you there, surrounded by all of those people, all of which you smiled at, and who smiled at you, too. You made them laugh, squeezed that one person’s arm when they looked nervous, politely declined another glass of wine, had an awkward moment when you swiped your spoon off the table and nearly butted heads with the person next to you when you both leaned down to pick it up. Hell, you weren’t doing anything special, as Seungmin teased me with when he caught me staring again, but I just … Baby, I was just so in love with you. I am – I am in love with you, but sitting there, I just felt lovesick. And so, so lucky.

And then you looked over. And we made eye contact. And you smiled. And my whole body filled with warmth and a sense of calm that I only ever feel when I’m with you. And I knew then, that I needed to do this.

Even when … ha, god, even when the guy who scrambled to pick up your spoon for you stared at you with hearts in his eyes and put his arm around the back of your chair. I don’t think you even noticed. I hate to admit it, but he may have been one of the reasons that I made the waiter bring you that drink. Your favourite, with the love note that, I hoped, would fly under the radar if I was careful and didn’t add my name. The reason that later in the night, when everyone was drunk and nobody was paying attention, I pulled you onto the dance floor and held you close to me, where I know you belong. My heart felt so full when I felt the giggle reverberate through your body into mine. I was missing you all night. It felt wrong to be in the same room, yet so far away. So we danced. And then we left. And I kissed you in the back of the car, swallowed your laughs and savoured your warmth until we were at yours and could finally cuddle into bed. Intertwined. How we are meant to be, always.

You said once that you thought it was boring that I never got jealous. It was a joke, I know it was because we’ve talked about this before. Because I always have the same answer: “I’m not jealous because I trust you.” And you always, without fail, say the same thing: “I know, and I’m so glad you do. Because you can, you know?”

And it’s serious to you. You always wait for me to say that I do trust you, and I have to say it like I mean it. Otherwise, you would want us to talk it out, I’m sure. But I haven’t had a reason to not mean it yet. So usually all I get is one of your beautiful smiles.

God, those smiles of yours. I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but your smiles make me feel like everything will be okay. Like as long as we’re together, as long as I can turn around, and find you smiling at me like that, nothing can hurt me.

When you smile at me, there’s so much calm in your eyes, and most importantly, so much trust. The kind of trust, born out of love, that I never thought was possible in my wildest dreams, and boy, did I dream of it. It’s the kind of trust you have in your parents when you’re a child, but it’s even better – because it’s not a trust born out of necessity or naivety, but a trust that we painstakingly handcrafted, together. Especially you, unused as I was to trusting anyone, not even myself. You took every little thing you learned about me, especially in the beginning, everything I told you about what I liked, disliked, what kind of love I shied away from him and which I sunk into, what situations made me pull away, made me shrink into myself – and you took all of these things, and you built our love and our trust from it, brick by brick. You never forget a single thing, or if you do, you frown, and you make a new brick, carve an exclamation point in it, put it somewhere where you’re sure never to miss it again …

My metaphor is falling apart on me, and it’s probably because, really, I have no idea how you do it, and I can’t explain it. But I feel it. You love me the way I have always wanted to be loved, and then some. The way I wanted to be loved, and also the way I never knew I needed to be loved. And you did this for me without ever asking anything in return, and like it didn’t take any effort at all. Like it was obvious that this was how you were going to love me. Like I deserved to be loved like that. Baby, do you know how long it took me to be okay with being loved like this? It was terrifying, to be offered a love so warm and so safe, when it’s all I never knew I wanted and never dreamed could be real.

Baby, I have never felt this loved, this safe in my entire life. And I try, every day, to give you all of that and everything more in return, and I hope that it’s enough. I dare hope it’s enough when you grab and squeeze my hand when you’re nervous, or when you fall asleep against my chest at home, or even in the back of cars on long rides home. When your breathing evens out and your fingers loosen on my shirt and your leg does the little twitch it always does right before you fall asleep. It makes me hope that I make you feel as safe as you make me feel.

God, I’m getting distracted again.

So … when I say I’m not jealous because I trust you, I mean it.

But, and I never told you this – there was one time when I did get jealous.

It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you then, either, I can tell you that much up front. Nah, it was … it was just one of those days. You know, the ones.

I don’t know if you even remember that specific day because at least my stupid jealous brain didn’t do it while you were still there to see it. It was last year, when we ran into Young-hyun in the JYP cafeteria. It was so late and everything was deserted, and we’d shared one of those ice creams from the vending machine, and I was tired because it was the first day back in Seoul after two fan meetings in a row in Japan, and I’d missed you like crazy, in every way possible. All day that day, my body was aching to be close to you. I was so clingy I would’ve felt ridiculous, but you didn’t mind it. You indulged me without so much as a little chuckle, holding my hand even if it was inconvenient for editing, hooking your foot around my calf while we were eating dinner. Later you said it was because you missed me, too, but I think you’d do it even if you didn’t miss me. Though you’d tell me that that’s not possible. And I’d probably tease you, tickle you, as an excuse to fold you into my arms, your laughter reverberating through my body, your warmth against mine –

I love when we’re like we were that night, like we only just fell in love, not an inch between our bodies, always touching, heart fluttering with every brush of your fingertips, every kiss you steal when nobody else in the studio.

That night, after we had our dinner and shared our ice cream and were on our way back to the studio to finish that one thing before heading back to yours, I was bringing our trays back and when I came back, I found you talking to Young-hyun.

Looking back, I know I was overreacting a little bit, but God, you should’ve seen the way he smiled at you. The way his eyes wandered when you weren’t looking. And you, being you, you were so nice to him. You smiled so widely, so prettily, tossed your hair all sweet. I know you weren’t flirting with him, I know you would never – at least not intentionally, but your flirty nature will be the death of me one day, in more ways than one – but he was enjoying your attention like you wouldn’t believe.

I’m not trying to justify myself, but it was a bad day from the morning onwards when I stared at my puffy face for too long in the bathroom mirror, and hyung is so … he’s himself! Tall, handsome and talented, with a perfect smile and high cheekbones and, again, so tall and built he could sweep you off your feet, and I … I know you won’t let me be self-deprecating right now, but let’s just say I was suddenly so very aware that I am none of those things.

It’s silly, it’s immature, it’s absolutely stupid to even get jealous of some physical appeal of a friend of mine, when you’ve spent the last years worshipping my body, detailing every inch of it, kissing that spot on my shoulder and jokingly calling it your favourite part of me because the skin is so soft – hell, it’s stupid to even be jealous of anything physical at all when we have the sex we have, and we’ve spent years slowly weaving every aspect of our lives and every inch of our souls together.

But there you were – laughing with Young-hyun. And for a split second, I saw you as you used to be. Single, JYP Entertainment’s most successful producer, every idol’s favourite to work with, stupidly gorgeous, always dressed nice with your jewellery and your perfume – god, your perfume – and so appealing and sexy without even trying. In my mind’s eye, I saw Young-hyun do what I was always too chicken to do. Ask you out. Confidently sweep you off your feet with nice dinners, his nice car, his handsome smile and a kind of charisma that I could only dream of – and I remembered me, tiptoeing around my feelings, barely able to touch you, staring from a distance, until you got mad at me and …

God, I felt pathetic. And you know I don’t care for all that bullshit about gender roles, about some macho masculinity, but … but something in me rebelled at that moment. I felt pathetic and like I was only half the man you deserved, like you should be with someone like Young-hyun, who wouldn’t let his insecurities get the best of him so badly that he almost let the love of his life slip away.

Did I have a normal reaction to that? Like, get sad and talk to you?

Ha, no.

Like a feral dog, I got territorial instead.

You were perfect. Blissfully unaware of the fact that you could have the man in front of you if you only wanted, that you had him wrapped around your little finger and could probably get him to buy you an engagement ring and a house and car within the month, not like those are the things you’d even care about but – you just turned, saw me, and waved me over with the brightest smile in the world.We

weren’t official, then, couldn’t really be, with the unspoken rules at the company, but I’m convinced that almost everyone knew. And I knew hyung knew.

So I let my hand linger on your waist and my eyes linger on your face and told you to go ahead, that I would catch up with you, relished in the way your hand trailed down my arm as a goodbye. And when you were out of sight, I … well … god, you’re going to laugh at me.

When you were out of sight, I stared hyung down, and I said: “If I was the jealous type, I would tell you to stay the hell away from my girl, hyung.”

Hyung should’ve laughed, too, but I think in my blank desperation I looked deranged enough to actually be a little intimidating. That or he knows me better than I think. He blinked at me, like he was trying to figure out if I was being serious, then took a defensive step back.

“Ah, I was wondering if the rumours were true!”

I scoffed.

“Well, they are.”

Hyung started smirking at me.

“Plus, you could’ve asked. You have my number.”

He just shrugged, a half apologetic smile on his face. I wanted to still be mad at how nonchalant he was being, but the fight was leaving me, and I was starting to feel ridiculous. But I think hyung is a better person than I ever gave him credit for because he just threw an arm around my shoulder, and squeezed hard as he led me out of the cafeteria.

“You’re right,” he admitted, a smile in his voice, “I’m sorry, Channie. Congratulations, she’s a catch.”

As if I didn’t know.

By the time I got to our studio, I thankfully wasn’t blushing any more. Did you know back then? What was going on? Or was it a coincidence, that you pulled me into the room, locked the door and kissed me breathless until I stumbled onto the sofa and pulled you into my lap and we … God, I would say spontaneous, hurried, desperate studio sex is my favourite, but you know what’s actually my favourite?

Birthday sex on your birthday – because it’s the one day of the year that you let me take care of you the way I want to.

You don’t fight, don’t argue with me when I guide you into the pillows. It’s the one day a year that you don’t fight me when I make a home between your legs, when you let me take my time eating you out, let me work your orgasm out of you so intentionally slowly that it racks through you so hard your toes curl, and you bury your face in the pillow, so nobody hears your moans when you come.

I stop then because I know you can only come twice in a row, and I still want to fuck you like you deserve because you love getting fucked.

God, I can’t believe how much you love getting fucked. I’m not gonna lie, sweetheart, it still gets me as hot and bothered as it did the first time you told me, dragging me into bed with your hair and your eyes wild, forcing me onto my back so you could ride me. It’s a wet fucking dream. You always are, but god, the way you beg for me, beg for my cock. The way you sigh happily and squirm when I slide into you. The way you flutter around me just from the feeling, try to suck me in to the hilt. I can’t believe you love getting fucked so much that we got me a cock ring, so I could go for as long as you want to – bend you into every single position, fuck you slow, then hard, then impossibly deeper, until just a few rubs of your clit make you come, gushing hot slick around my cock.

It’s crazy in general, how compatible we are in almost every aspect, but especially in bed.

I hadn’t been with many people before you, and most were semi casual at best, and I never thought sex could be anything but just that. Like, I knew that I was always intrigued by different dynamics and experimenting, but I didn’t have anyone to do it with and being an idol doesn’t exactly offer many opportunities for casual experimentation, so I just kind of shoved it to the back of my mind.

But sex with you – sex with you is liberation.

Especially in the beginning, it felt like you were rewiring my brain with every orgasm. You taught me how to listen to my body. How to be in the moment, to be able to listen to yours, so I could give you the same pleasure back that you gave me. You helped me explore what it meant to be confident, to take charge, to care for someone.

And before I knew it, all of these things were bleeding into my daily life. The confidence, yes, but also the care. I found myself carrying myself differently. I felt so much more at home in my skin, so much more empowered within my self-expression. And I could be funny and say that it was because I had the sexiest, most incredible woman I’ve ever met on my knees for me or sitting on my face almost every possible night, but it would only describe the tip of the iceberg of all the things you did that changed me.

And I know people always say that the people they love changed them, but I never knew just how true it was. How it felt to be the one who was being changed.

It’s not even that you did anything, or that you tried to change me – quite the opposite, you loved me just how I was from the first day – but being in your life, getting to watch the way you live, the way you carry yourself, the way you take your life so seriously and take ownership of who you are and what you want – it changed everything for me.

I tried to tell you this once, and you brushed me off with a laugh. Said, “what do you mean?! I just live!”

Darling, sometimes I think what you’ve done with your life, is worth more than my entire career. Harder, too.

Yes, somehow I persevered through those seven years as a trainee, found the boys, and we somehow made it here, through blood, sweat and tears, to now live this life that less than 1% of people on earth get to live, a life that allows me to touch so many people and change the world. And that, most days, makes me feel like I’m on top of the world. But sometimes I look at you, with your life, entirely outside of the public eye, having become an expert in your field, enabling the lives of people like me – and I think you’re happier, more fulfilled, more at peace than anyone I’ve ever met. Hell, more than I have ever been. Like you’ve managed to strip life back to the bare necessities and figured out for yourself just how to live it well. And then you just did it.

It’s this, I think, that I learned the most from you about. About how to live well. About how important it is to figure out who I am and what I really want out of life. What will make me happy, yes, but not just in the moment, but for a long time – what I need to do to be not just happy but fulfilled.

I think you made me realise that those two things are separate. That I could be there, on top of the world, at the pinnacle of my career, but that that doesn’t mean that I’m automatically a good person. Someone I want to be.

It’s hard work, but every day, you show me the levels of happiness, of fulfilment that lie on the other side of that hard work, and you make me want to do it. You make me want to be better. Hold myself to a higher standard, be an even better person, for you, for the members, for Stay.

I think the members noticed. None of them ever said anything in particular. Well, Changbin smiles at me a lot when I mention going to your place after a studio session. Also, the way he grins at you and gives you a hug when he sees you? He only does that with you. I think in his mind, you’re already his sister-in-law or something. Binnie’s funny like that.

But the other members – they’ve been saying a lot that they think I’ve changed, that I seem happier than I’ve ever been. Calmer. More self-assured. They say they’re glad to see me taking care of myself, after all the years of taking care of them. It makes me feel a lot of things that I have no idea how to decode. I’ll need one of our nights of talking for hours in the half dark kitchen, eating ice cream or leftover tteokbokki, to unravel all of it.

The kids may have noticed, and they say a lot of things, but it took me along time to figure out what it is that changed me. And all of this, all of these big words I’m writing here now and will soon, hopefully be able to say to you – they are meant to express it.

But the magic of our life, of my love for you, they’re in the moments like our late night talks in the dark kitchen. In the safety of our little rituals. The ones that just belong to the two of us. They just happened, grew almost organically out of who we are. It’s mind-blowing to me, how that happens. They may be my favourite part of us. Our little rituals … Oh, and your little rituals, too. It feels like a privilege, every time I get to see one of yours.

Like, I love watching you get ready for bed.

When I’m at yours at a reasonable time for once, already tucked in, just scrolling through my phone or something, and you’re padding around. Pulling off your socks and, every night without fail, throwing them next to the hamper because you know you’ll pick them up and put them where they belong the next morning.

Skipping around on your bare feet because the wood floors are cold. Fixing your hair, applying that sweet lip balm of yours that always ends up on my lips instead because I can’t just kiss you goodnight once.

God, angel, sometimes I just sit somewhere, and I think about you, I think about us, and I just … I try to find a flaw, you know? Like something that’s missing, or something that you do that bothers me, but I just – there’s nothing because there is nothing that I can’t talk to you about, nothing we couldn’t figure out.

You’re not perfect. Hell, neither am I. Neither are any of the people I love the most. And I wouldn’t want you to be.

Just as much as I love the little silvery stretch marks on your hips, I love the way you get insecure sometimes. Or defensive. Or the way you lash out when you’re annoyed and then get really hard on yourself when you calm down again.

I don’t love you despite those things, but I love those parts of you the way I love everything else. Because they make you human. And the same way I learned that you don’t like it when I pay too much attention to your stretch marks, even if you say they don’t bother you much, I want to learn what it is that makes you insecure. Or defensive. I want to understand what it is about those things people say that makes you lash out. And as much as I want to understand them, I also want to learn what it is you need in those moments – if you want me to be right there with you, angry at the world, or if you want to be held or distracted, if you want to laugh or cry it out.

I want to know you. All of you. There’s nobody I’ve ever felt like this about, and there will never be anyone else. You’re it for me. Baby, I could shout it from the rooftops. You’re it. You’re my home. I’ve found you.

All my life, I never thought I could have this. But by your sheer existence, you taught me that nothing is impossible.

You’re the love of my life. There’s nothing I’m more sure of than this. And there’s nothing I’m more sure of than that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. In every way possible.

So I want to ask you. Even if our lives go on the way they are now. Even if we may not be able to live together for a while. Even if my work will take me halfway across the globe for months on end. Even if I will still crawl into your bed at 4am for an hour of cuddles before you have to get up – I want to ask you if you will marry me. If you would be willing to let me give you my heart, for keeps. Because nothing would make me happier, or more proud, than to go through this life, through this crazy, fucking life I’m leading, with the knowledge that you’re right there beside me.

My love, my angel, my everything – will you marry me?

༉‧₊˚💍ִֶ ࣪˖

“So, do you think it’s good? Do you think she’ll like it?”

Chan looks up from his notes and finds Jisung with his face buried in his arms. When his back shakes, he realises Jisung’s crying. Sobbing, even.

“What the fuck, hyung,” he blubbers, lifts his head, stares straight at Chan with his eyes bright red and swollen, “of course she’ll like it. How could she not?! That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

Chan feels his cheeks heat up. He wrings his hand in his lap nervously.

“So you think she’ll say yes?”

Jisung throws his head back and wails in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious, Chan-hyung,” he throws his hands up, “have you seen how she looks at you? She’d say yes tomorrow, if you asked her over lunch.”

Chan’s cheeks are burning now, but he finds himself nodding. Deep in his heart, he thinks so, too, but still, he’s nervous. But Jisung’s probably right.

“I had one more question, though,” he starts, and Jisung yells, nearly throws himself out of his chair.

“Hyung, you drive me crazy! What is it?!”

Chan takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Will you be my best man?”

Jisung freezes. The room is suddenly dead silent. His eyes are huge.

He hiccups quietly.

“Me?” he whispers, “not Changbin-hyung? Lix?”

Chan smiles, shakes his head.

“Are you, like, sure sure?”

Chan can’t contain the laugh this time. He nods.

“You, Sung, if you’re willing to do it.”

Jisung blinks. Then a sob pushes past his lips. Then another, and before Chan knows it, he has an armful of a hysterically crying Jisung.

“O-of c-course, hyung,” he wails, his arms in an iron grip around Chan, “it w-would be my honour! What the fuck!”

There’s no more work that will be done that night, Chan knows it. So he gathers Jisung’s stuff, tucks it under one arm and Jisung under the other. He takes Jisung home, deposits him at the other dorm, waits until a surprised Minho folds Jisung into his arms, and only then does he make his way to your apartment.

You’re probably still up. Working on the couch, with that lavender candle burning. Maybe you can order a late night snack. Chat about your days. Have sloppy sex on the sofa. Ignore it when Jisung inevitably tells Minho and Minho tells everyone and the group chat starts blowing up. Chan doesn’t really care. Whatever you do, he knows it will be lovely. His girl. His home. The love of his life.

He doesn’t know when he’ll propose yet, but he knows he wants it to be soon. He’ll make it a little special. Not too special because he knows you don’t like big surprises and big moments like that, but he’ll figure something out. Something that is just perfectly you and him. Him and you.

Forever.

no one is allowed to cry about this, okay? (im joking, just click the link)

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

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