#chan fluff

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss - Pt.9

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 2943

Summary: Minho and you spend a day at the art gallery, Chan takes you out for dinner by the river. Both of them try their best to make room for you and reconnect. You haven't been so happy in a while.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, dinner date, museum date, soft!min, soft!chan

A/N: Thought I'd surprise you with another chapter today that I wrote after posting chapter 8. I think we could use the fluff🤭🖤

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

You exchange a soft smile with your husband, tilting your head at him. “You’re okay?” you ask gently. For a moment, all you can hear is the low hum of the city life outside the window. 

“Let’s go out today?” he asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the calm. “Just you and me.”

You study Minho’s face, swallowing at the hope in his eyes. It’s been three weeks since you clashed and you’ve been working on easing out the many strains those past months have taken on your life. Sometimes, Minho seemed a little hesitant, not knowing if you’d let him in enough. “Where would we go?” you ask, allowing a small smile to cover your lips.

“You mentioned that art exhibit at the new gallery downtown a few days ago. I thought you might want to see?” he suggests gently.

You feel warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of him still remembering that. “That sounds wonderful,” you say excitedly. “I would love to.”

“Yeah?” He smiles so sweetly that you reach out for him. He leans into your touch as you caress his cheek and searches your eyes carefully.

“Yes, darling,” you mirror his smile.

The two of you get ready in comfortable silence, side by side, occasionally sharing glances that hold soft smiles and unspoken words. As you step outside, hand in hand, the city greets you with the vibrant colors of an early evening. The sun, low in the sky, paints everything in hues of orange and gold.

The gallery is a modern space with stark white walls filled with vibrant art. You wander through the exhibits, Minho’s presence a steady warmth at your side. You’re busy looking at the different pieces, but his eyes can’t stop finding you. Once more, he notices how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, and how safe you always make him feel. A small smile settles on his lips as he watches you, following you around the rooms willingly. 

At one painting, a chaotic blend of dark and light, you pause longer than at the others. Minho beside you observes the play of emotions across your face. “What do you see?” he asks quietly, not asking about the painting but the meaning you give it.

Your eyes linger on the canvas, chewing your lip a little. “Struggle,” you say, your voice soft in the almost empty room. “But there’s beauty in it too. The colors clash, and still they harmonize…it’s almost like…,” you pause, not quite sure if you should continue.

“It’s like us,” Minho finishes for you, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns to look at you, his gaze filled with understanding. “Finding our beauty in the struggle. Finding some light in the darkness.”

You meet his gaze, your heart aching at the truth of his words. You reach for his hand, fingers intertwining naturally as if they were made to fit together. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

Minho’s thumb strokes your hand gently, and his eyes soften. “I’d go anywhere with you,” he replies.

You continue your walk through the gallery, and once you step outside, the sky has turned into a velvety blue, and and stars begin to peek out. You decide to take a little detour on your way back home, walking through the park. The city sounds soften in the background, replaced by the rustle of leaves and distant laughter.

The park is lit by scattered lamps, casting their golden lights on the winding path. You walk slowly, comfortable in the peace you feel with him. At a bench by the duck pond, you sit down with him, gazing at the water that glitters beneath the moonlight.

The air is cool by now, a gentle breeze teasing your skin, making you shiver. Minho notices almost immediately, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm hug. You lean against him, head resting against his shoulder, and sigh happily. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Minho confesses, voice laced with a warmth that reminds you he’s your home. “I missed just being with you without having to try and function. Just..us.”

You turn to look at him, eyes finding his in the dim light. “We don’t always have to be strong, do we? We can just be us, flaws and all.”

“No, we don’t always have to be strong,” Minho agrees, his hand gently cupping your face. As long as we’re together…that’s enough. That’s more than I could’ve ever asked for,” he whispers. Your lips meet in a gentle kiss before he squeezes your shoulder. “Let’s get back home, hm?”

The walk back is quiet but comfortable. As you reach the doorstep, Minho stops, turning to you with a serious expression on his face. “Let’s make a promise,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “No matter what happens, we keep fighting together, we keep finding beauty in the chaos.”

You nod, face softening at the desperation in his eyes. “I promise.”

Minho leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss to seal your promise. It’s soft and sweet and holds the promise and gentle words of today. “Come on, honey. Let’s see if Channie’s home yet,” he says, and you nod happily.

Inside, the house is quiet, making the atmosphere feel almost too serene. As you shed your coats and shoes, Minho calls out gently, not wanting to startle Chan, who might be home. There's no response, and he leads you through to the kitchen, where a note on the counter catches your eye.

"Out with Felix and Binnie. Don't wait up. - Chan" reads the neatly penned message, Minho's lips turning up in a small, knowing smile. "Guess it's just us tonight," he comments.

You nod, missing Chan but also relishing the quiet intimacy that the evening promises with just the two of you. "What do you feel like for dinner?" you ask, turning towards the fridge.

Minho shrugs, watching you with an affectionate gaze. "Anything's fine, as long as I'm with you," he replies, his tone soft. 

Deciding on something light and easy, you opt to make a salad with all the fresh ingredients you have, adding grilled chicken for some warmth and substance. Minho sets the table, his movements relaxed, a playlist of soft music filling the background.

As you both sit down to eat, the conversation flows more freely than it has in weeks. Gradually, the dialogue drifts towards more personal topics, about how you've both been feeling and the little things you've missed about each other.

"It's been tough, hasn't it?" Minho says at one point, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. "But nights like this... they remind me why it's worth it. Why we're worth it."

You reach across the table, your hand covering his. "It has been tough. But I wouldn't want to face it with anyone but you," you admit, your voice thick with emotion.

After dinner, you clear the dishes together, a routine that feels comforting in its normalcy. Minho washes, you dry, and there's a gentle efficiency to your movements, a dance you've performed countless times before, each step familiar and reassuring.

With the kitchen tidied up, Minho suggests a walk outside. The night air is still warm enough to be inviting. "Let's just walk around the block, a little night stroll," he proposes, and you agree readily.

Outside, the neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are dimmed for the evening, and their inhabitants are likely winding down much like yourselves. You walk hand in hand, your steps unhurried, the silence between you comfortable and easy.

At one point, Minho stops, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I don't say it enough, but I do. So very much."

"I love you too," you respond, leaning back to look into his eyes. “And you're right. Nights like tonight remind me of us, of what we have and what we're fighting for."

Returning home, you settle onto the sofa, Minho pulling a blanket over you both. You lean into him, your head on his shoulder, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Let's not wait so long to do this again," you suggest, your voice muffled against his shirt.

"Yeah," Minho says, his arm tightening around you. 

As you nod in agreement, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, you realize that the struggles and the chaos of the past weeks have not been in vain. They've brought you to this moment, safe in Minho’s arms.

-

Chan finds himself back earlier than he planned. After his evening out, he feels the pull of home - of you and Minho - stronger than the laughter and light of the city streets. As he approaches the house, his heart is a mix of nerves and hope. He unlocks the door quietly, half-expecting to find the house still echoing with the tension of previous weeks.

Instead, he steps into a soft-lit silence, low music playing in the living room where he finds you and Minho asleep on the sofa, intertwined under a shared blanket. The sight makes him stop in the doorway, a gentle smile spreading across his face as relief washes over him. Here, in this scene of peaceful slumber, he sees the healing that has begun between you. It almost feels as if you’ve never struggled.

Chan sets down his keys quietly and walks over, his movements gentle to avoid waking you. The intimacy of the moment - the way Minho's arm encircles your waist, how your head rests against his chest - is so sweet. It reminds him of the depth of love and commitment that binds you together, a stark contrast to the coldness that had crept into your interactions lately.

Chan reaches down, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is feather-light, a silent vow to himself to mend the threads of your relationship that he's held too loosely. The small action makes you stir, and your eyes flutter open, meeting his in a sleepy state.

"Channie," you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. "You're back early."

He nods, his hand moving from your hair to gently squeeze your shoulder. "Couldn't stay away too long," he admits, his voice low and warm. "I missed home."

Minho stirs next to you, his eyes opening to Chan's familiar presence. "Hey," he greets, his voice rough with sleep "We were just waiting up for you," Minho teases lightly, though the crinkles by his eyes show his sincerity. He sits up, adjusting the blanket over you, ensuring you're still covered and warm.

Chan chuckles softly, the sound soothing the lingering edges of his earlier anxiety. "It looks like you did more sleeping than waiting," he observes gently.

"Join us," you say, patting the space beside you. 

As Chan settles beside you, the weight of the past weeks—the misunderstandings, fears, and pain—seems to lift slightly. Together, you sit in the soft glow of the room, the silence comfortable, filled only with the soft sounds of your synchronized breathing.

As the evening deepens into night, you all decide it's time to move from the sofa to the bed. Hand in hand, you help each other tidy up the living space before heading to the bedroom.

You all get comfortable in bed, Chan, in the middle this time, turns to face each of you, his eyes holding a soft light. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "For this. For us."

Minho reaches to squeeze his hand. “We love you, Channie.”

“I love you too,” he smiles happily.

-

Chan had suggested it: a quiet evening out, just the two of you. You agreed to the promise of a few hours solely with him, which sounded too good to pass. Chan suggested a small restaurant by the river, one that promised a breathtaking view.

Now that the evening is here, you feel nervous, a soft flutter in your stomach. It reminds you of the early days, the first few dates, and the awkward dance of not wanting to choose between Minho and him. You spend quite some time picking your outfit, wanting to feel beautiful and hoping to see the spark in Chan’s eyes you haven’t seen in a while.

Chan is not one bit less nervous than you are, choosing a simple but elegant shirt he knows you like. When he sees you, ready and waiting, his breath catches in his throat. “You look so beautiful,” he manages, his voice rough with emotion. The sincerity in his gaze and the slow smile covering his lips make your heart beat faster, and your eyes water a little.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

“Thanks,” he smiles shyly, blushing a little.

The drive to the restaurant is quiet, with music playing in the background. Chan parks near the river just as the sun is slowly dipping below the horizon, painting the water with a golden glow.

Hand in hand, you walk to the cozy restaurant, which has soft lighting and a gentle, nonintrusive conversation. You choose a table near a window with a view of the river, now shimmering under the first touches of twilight.

You two fall into easy conversation as you eat, yet beneath the lightness of their conversation, deeper topics linger at the edges, waiting.  "Y/n," he begins, his voice serious but gentle. “I know things have been tough. I know I've been... distant. Not because I want to be, but because I've been scared - scared of doing the wrong thing, of saying the wrong thing."

"Chan, I understand. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed, too, scared of pushing you away or making things harder for you,” you admit gently.

“I never meant to feel like you couldn’t come to me…or that Min is more important to me,” he tells you guiltily. 

“I know,” you reply, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “But we're here now, and that’s what matters. We can find our way back together.”

Chan’s smile returns, his eyes lighting up as if a weight has been lifted. “I’d like that. A lot.”

As dinner comes to an end, Chan suggests a walk along the river. The cool breeze from the water is refreshing, and the rhythmic sound of the waves against the shore is soothing. 

“Look at the moon,” Chan points up, and you both stop to gaze at the full moon, casting a silver glow over the river. It’s beautiful and peaceful, and for a moment, it feels like everything is right in the world.

“It’s gorgeous,” you comment, leaning into him.

Chan wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Not as gorgeous as you,” he says, which makes you both chuckle.

The moment feels right, and you stop walking and turn to face him. “Chan, thank you for tonight. It means a lot to me. I’ve missed just being with you like this.”

He cups your face gently, his touch tender. “I’ve missed it, too—more than I realized. Let’s not let it go again, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, and he leans in to kiss you softly and sweetly under the moonlight by the river.

On the drive home, the car is filled with comfortable silence. A song that you both love comes on the radio, and Chan reaches over to turn it up. You smile and start to sing along quietly. He joins in, and soon, you’re both laughing and singing at the top of your lungs.

Chan parks the car in front of your house and turns to you with a giddy smile. You smile softly, leaning over to cup his face. “My beautiful Channie angel,” you whisper, and he blushes a little. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he smiles shyly. “My sweet baby girl.”

Minho greets you with a gentle smile as you step inside. “Had fun, you two?” he asks gently, giggling surprised as you give him a long, soft kiss. “Hey, darling,” he whispers adoringly.

“Come cuddle with us?” you plead softly, making him laugh.

“Please?” Chan asks sweetly, kissing his cheek.

“Fine, fine,” he laughs. “Go get ready for bed, I’ll be there in a bit,” he promises.

Not much later you’re all comfortable in bed. You’re in the middle, feeling safe between them. To your left, Minho’s warmth is a comforting pressure against your side, his arm thrown loosely over your waist. His fingers draw mindless patterns on the fabric of your nightshirt. Chan’s body is curved around yours protectively, his breath softly tickling your neck. Minho shifts a little, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes meet Chan’s in a silent agreement of how much they love you. 

“Comfortable?” Minho asks softly, barely above a whisper, as if he’s scared of speaking too loudly.

“Very,” you nod, agreeing. You turn your head slightly to smile at him, reaching to touch his cheek. Chan responds by tightening his embrace around you, his hand splaying across your stomach, grounding you.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the only sounds are the soft rustling of the sheets and the steady, rhythmic breathing of three hearts in sync. You find yourself tracing the lines of Chan’s hand after a while, feeling the strength and warmth of his fingers intertwined with yours. Minho, feeling a surge of affection, leans over to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead, then Chan’s jaw. Chan smiles at the gesture, a small, happy sound escaping his lips. It feels perfect.

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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[milkteabinniechan]

Pink Carnations - A Bridgerton Story

ko-fi // m.list

pairing: Bridgerton Au! Chan x female reader

a/n: This was a labor of love honestly and I wanted to break out of my normal writing comfort zone so thank you all for giving me the platform to do that <3 I hope you all enjoy the first chapter. Please leave feedback!! It helps me out sm

Chapter One

Pink carnations lined the pathway to your house. That's how you knew spring was arriving. Long lines of pink. You'd push open your bedroom windows and breathe in the freshly cut grass, you'd let the warm breeze press past your hair, tickling your neck and shoulders.

It was your wedding day.

"Everyone is waiting downstairs, ma'am." A chambermaid squeaked from the doorway.

She was a new hire. A small, meek little thing that didn't talk much and avoided all eye contact. You had attempted many times to spark up a conversation with her, but all your efforts had fall flat thus far. You turned towards the door and gave her a firm nod. You took a deep breath in and made your way towards the stairs. Your dress swirled and swept across your legs as you moved.

You absolutely adored your dress. Long, flowing chiffon cascaded down your hips, falling to your feet at perfect length. A beaded corset swam up your waist and chest, while delicate lace fabric draped your shoulders, trickling down like a spring rain.

You counted your footsteps as you ascended down the staircase; one, two, three, four. Before you knew it, you were in the main hall of your family home. The kitchen staff had decorated every corner of the enormous mansion you called home. As you glanced around the room, there was only one person you were really looking for.

Chan was a potential suitor but he never pursued you. Gentlemen brought flowers to your door nearly every day. Bouquets of roses and purple tulips filled your room like something out of a fairytale. But he never sent so much as a flower petal.

"No carnations? Do these men not know you at all?" Your sister had notes the lack of your favorite flora.

Now it was your wedding day, a perfectly respectable man by the name of Felix Lee had asked for your hand in marriage. He came from a wealthy family

And had always treated you with the utmost respect. He was very well-liked in the town. Quite the charmer to the gaggle of ladies that had found themselves swarming him every chance they could. He had a beautiful smile and effortlesslessy gorgeous hair. You found yourself shrinking around him whenever he would speak, fearing that the light he exuded would burn you away.

But however magical Felix seemed, you still found yourself searching for Chan around every corridor. The whole town had been invited to this momentous occasion as Lady Whistledown had so affectionately called it.

She had gushed ansd gooned over the entire guest list, right down to the third cousin of the second aunt of the twice removed great uncle of… whatever. This was a spectacle. This was not for you. You were the eldest of your family. As your mother had never bore a son, the responsibility came down to you to marry someone in good standing to provide for your family. Although you would not live in this place anymore, your siblings and your parents would be well taken care of.

“The newest Whistledown has just arrived!” a valet ran into the dining hall with a small white paper in hand. 

“She’s writing on the day of your wedding? That has to be a good sign.” Your sister nudged your shoulder with hers.

The two of you shared a smile that quickly faded when you saw the shocked faces slowly peppering across the room. Judgemental eyes shot through you like rusty nails, leaving an infectious monster spreading through your entire body. Your mother crossed the marble floor to hand you the latest gossip. Your hands began to shake as you lifted the small sheet to your face.

Dearest, Gentle Reader, 

They say what is good for the goose is good for the gander, but what if the goose has taken a GANDER at another? This writer has heard a rumor most scandalous, about a certain Lady that has spent a significant amount of her time and attention on someone who is NOT her groom to be. A man in good standing is only considered as such if the company he keeps holds themselves to the same standards. Perhaps this bride may be having second thoughts?

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[astraystayyh]

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

[soobnny]

ten things bang chan says when he thinks you’re asleep — fluff, established relationship, a tinge of angst

CHAN | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

one. you know what i realized lately? i've been sleeping better. i think it started on the first night you moved in with me. i didn't know sleep could come so easy until i had you next to me. it's really nice to wake up and find you in my arms, too. and i think—i think i wouldn't mind doing this for the rest of my life.

two. your hair is longer these days. i think it suits you a lot, but i think i love it more because it's easier to run my fingers through your hair when you fall asleep on my lap this way, easier to play with them.

three. you used my shampoo today. i don't know why, but that made me love you even more than i did yesterday. maybe it's because my life feels so intertwined with yours this way. you feel closer to me like this. yeah, that must be why.

four. you've worked really really hard to get this far, and it shows. i'm so proud of you, angel. you're doing a great job.

five. i'm learning to love myself more because of you. thank you for loving me as i am. thank you for loving me when i thought i wasn't lovable. i promise i will love myself the way that you love me. promise you'll do the same for me?

six. i'm sorry if i get too in my head sometimes. i'm sorry if i don't listen when you tell me to take breaks. i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry. please stay with me. i promise i'm trying. i really am trying.

seven. a song called 'grows old' played on the radio today. it made me think of you. please also hold my heart until it grows old.

eight. you deserve a place in this world. i'm sorry it made you think for a moment that you didn't, but you deserve to take up your spot. someone's life is better because of you, my life is better because you're in it. i've been learning to appreciate small joys because of you. i love you.

nine. if there's no one to lean on, i'm always here.

ten. one day, i'll marry you.

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・741 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive themes so mdni / 𝗮/𝗻・inspired by our beautiful boy's bbl texts about the nylon shoot. he is so loved. i hope he knows it ♡

𝟬𝟵:𝟬𝟵 — Chan is nervous.

He doesn’t say so out loud. He doesn’t say anything out loud, actually, simply appearing in the kitchen to pluck a slice of toast off the counter. Damp curls dripping into the towel slung around his neck, brushing against your cheek when he leaves a good morning kiss there.

But there’s a squareness in his shoulders. A muted glaze over the brown of his eyes and a tightness in the smile he gives you as he pulls away. The images linger in your vision after he disappears back down the hallway, presumably to get ready for the big day ahead.

Words. There are times when they embrace Chan like orchestral musicians awaiting their conductor’s cue, like sunflowers swiveling eastward in the halcyon morning—but there are other times when they haunt him, like the faceless sea of spectators instead of the hopeful performers, like the shadows that comprise the fathomless night rather than the rays of sun that follow.

You rise out of your seat, a quiet sigh leaving your lips. Chan needs the sun, today.

Inside your bedroom, Chan’s towel sits atop your duvet, right beside the white material of the T-shirt he slept in. The bathroom door is ajar and spilling yellow light onto the hardwood. You nudge it open further.

Free to roam after the towel’s removal, transparent waterdrops pave silvery trails down the sides of Chan’s neck, over the gentle incline of his collarbones and the naked hills of his chest. His palms are pressed flat on either side of the sink, his eyes glued to the mirror before him, his jaw set as squarely in his reflection as it is on his person.

He jumps when your reflection joins his. Parts his lips, prepares to speak. But his whole vernacular evaporates when your hands find his waist, when your breath hits the nape of his neck. 

“Baby,” he breathes.

There’s a question embedded in the word. The only answer you give him is the quiet drag of your fingertips down the center of his back. He expels an involuntary shudder, and with it the muscles beneath your touch shift like fields of marigolds tousled by a kindred breeze.

You kiss the highest ridge of his spine, letting your lips linger against the smooth skin for a few moments before doing the same, just below his ear. 

“What—” He pauses, swallows. “What are you doing, angel?”

When your hands return to his hips, they request something this time. He complies, lets you turn him around, his lower back meeting the marble with a soft bump.

You bring yourself close to him. Close enough to gauge his blushing cheeks and trembling breath and brown, brown eyes, crossed from trying to look at you. Close enough that you only need slightly dip your head to mould your lips to the hollow right under his jaw.

He moans, the sound melodic and low and quickly muffled by the lower lip he bites down upon. You suck lightly, careful not to leave a mark yet entirely fine with the alternative, then graze your teeth over the tender skin, pull away. You don’t go far, though, as your next destination is his Adam’s apple, which you reach not by boat or by plane but by short, wet kisses that resound in the silent bathroom, that draw from Chan’s throat another gorgeous whine.

As you progress in this fashion, traipsing across the plane of his clavicle, the valley of his pectorals, you want to tell him that he’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful when he laughs so hard that his smile turns boxy and his voice gets all squeaky. He’s beautiful when he’s trying not to cry and his eyes look like mirror pools because he’s failing. He’s beautiful in front of the cameras; he’s beautiful away from them. He’s beautiful always, your Chan, your Chris.

That is what you want to tell him.

But you don’t. Not even when his back hits the mattress moments later and he looks like your every wildest dream come to life underneath you: pupils blown so wide that they’ve swallowed his irises, lips glistening and quivering and inconceivably kissable as he sighs your name, chiseled upper body rippling when he props himself up on his elbows. Straining to look at you as you lower your mouth to his navel, undo the knot of his sweatpants with a gentle tug.

You’ll show him instead.

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[becomingmina]

Mad - fluff and suggestive w/Chan. 18+ only mdni

Mad series is here 🤍

“Please! Can we go out?” You tugged at your boyfriend’s shirt.

You and Chan were tangled up on the couch on a Friday afternoon. When he had told you his afternoon was free you were quick to straddle his lap, begging for him to take you out. He laughs at your eagerness while he was laying on his back with one arm under his head, the other caressing your thigh.

“I have to wake up early tomorrow. Can’t we just stay home? We can play some games and order in,” he tried to convince you.

“But you’re finally free for the afternoon and we have like..” you counted your fingers “.. we have like 7 hours before you can wind down..” you begged with a pout.

“Or we can do something else for 7 hours baby,” he suggested with a smirk, inching his hand up higher on your thigh.

“But I got this pretty dress—” you huffed; you didn’t want to take no for an answer.

“—Then go out by yourself,” Chan sharply replied, removing his hand from you to join the other one under his head. You can tell he wasn’t serious evidently by his smile, but you were.

“Maybe I should.”

“Good.. I get to rest more without you on me,” he scoffed, playfully.

“Pffffft, you want me on you!” You rolled your eyes.

“Not today baby. Go.” he flickers his eyes to the front door then back at you.

“Fine.”

You got off him and went into your shared bedroom, sitting on the bed in silence. You were waiting for him follow you and maybe change his mind about not going but he never entered the bedroom. You rolled your eyes and decided to check what he was up to, slowly opening the door to peek, only to see him asleep, his cheeks was pressed up against the surface of the couch.

“Gosh..” you smiled at your sleep-deprived boyfriend. He looked so worn out, so cute like this, you know you couldn’t force him out..

..But you were still longing to get out, itching for a boost of confidence. You had just ordered a pretty dress online and it finally arrived. You wanted to wear it, wanted to doll up since all you have been in the past couple of weeks was Chan’s big t-shirt and sweatpants feeling a little ugly.

You sat back on your bed again, pondering what you should do with the rest of your day, what you should do to make you feel better.

You pulled out your phone, dialling a number. “Hey, you wanna go out S/GF/N?”

While your boyfriend was still passed out, you got ready to go out with the girlfriends of the other boys and threw in a quick nap. You straighten your hair, put on your make up before slipping on the dress. It was just a simple black halter body-con dress, but you felt extremely sexy in it.

It was 7pm by the time you were done with everything. You strutted out with a pair of high heels towards your boyfriend who had just woken up, occupied on his phone.

“Hey baby, how was your sleep?” You ask softly, bending down to give him a peck on his cheek.

“Good,” he says pulling you onto his lap as he sat up.

He locks his phone before looking up at you, gasping at your appearance.

His eyes widen, travelling from your shoulders down the curve of your body to your legs then back up to your pretty face. He found you extremely sexy like this, not that he never thought you weren’t. But it’s also been a while since he saw you all dressed up.

“Woah.. Where.. Where you going pretty girl?” He stuttered.

“Out! Gonna go clubbing!” You say cheerfully, wrapping your arms around him while his drops around your waist.

“Y/N, were you serious?” He was taken off guard at your quick reply.

“Yeah, I told you I wanted to go out,” a hint of desideration showing.

“Baby— but with who?” It was his turn to whine now.

“With the girls now since you didn’t want to go,” you teased him and Chan shoots you a guilty smile. “I wanted to be pretty today. My pretty dress finally arrived.. Look,” your hand smooths over the hem of your dress before pointing at the neckline, showing it off to your boyfriend.

“You are pretty, always will be baby,” he says caressing your arm and looking up at you in adoration. “Now I’m mad.. at myself.”

He’s mad at himself. He feels like a bad boyfriend not registering your cues of you wanting to feel and look pretty. He retraces back to the past couples of week how you have been cooped up in his apartment in nothing but lounge wear, you couldn’t even dress yourself up for work since you work from home. Although you have always been the prettiest to him, he understands how you feel. You were just a girl, his girl.

“Why?”

“That I’m going to be home by myself now while my pretty girlfriend will be out in this sexy dress.. all because I didn’t know she wanted to feel pretty,” his eyes traces down your body one more time, feeling his start to get flushed.

“Is it too late?” he genuinely asked.

You laugh. “Mhmm, the other girls are ready to go.”

“You really going to leave me like this?” He looked down to the area you weren’t quite sitting on, indicating to something that was growing hard, but you just laugh. You were already running behind, so he just has to suck it up and wait till you come back so you can take care of him.

“I’ll let you kiss me, but I will have to leave you like this,” He smiled at you before pulling your face closer, letting your lips finally touch each other. He deepens the kiss quickly and you let him have his way for a little bit until pulling back completely.

“Can I’ll drop you?”

“Are you sure?” You didn’t want to bother him. After seeing him pressed up against the couch exhausted, you feel guilty because he never has time to himself.

“Of course! I would love to do my boyfriend duties for my baby.”

You had blast to be very honest. You have never felt this sexy and confident in a while. And to feel this way all night with the best of your friends was very special to you. You enjoyed girls night alot, but there were moments where you missed Chan. But you knew he was going to be home waiting for you so you just had to wait till the end of the night to see him again.

“How was it?” He asked the second you got into his car.

“It was fun. We drank and danced alot and.. I missed you heaps,” you slurred cheerfully, drunk and a little horny.

“Missed me?” He smirked.

“Mhmm, missed you Channie,” you pouted reaching out for his hand.

“Gotta go home first..” he says as he lets you hold his hand. “Gotta go home first and then I’ll let you show me how much you missed me.” He gives you a flirty glance and pull his hand to your lips, pecking the back of it.

“How did you feel though?”

“I feel sexy, Channie,” you confess.

“I’m happy to hear that. You look so extremely sexy tonight baby,” he complimented, making sure you know he acknowledges your feelings.

Once you got home, he instantly drags you into the bedroom, pushing you to sit in the bed.

“Missed you so much..” he crouches down and steady himself by his hands on either side of you. “I can’t believe I rather sleep than go out with you today..” planted a kiss to your shoulder making you giggle. “..I’m such bad boyfriend..” he continues and you nod.

“Such a bad boyfriend for my good Y/N,” he kisses your other shoulder before pushing you down on the bed.

“Hmm, you’re such a bad boyfriend,” you jokingly agreed, pulling him ontop of you as you make space for him in between your legs.

“You gonna let me make it up to you?” His hands inches up your thigh, bunching up your dress.

“Yes Chan please. Make it up to me..” you couldn’t wait any longer now, practically whining underneath him. “Just wanted to be pretty for you today..” you say breathless and he starts to nip the skin on your neck.

“No.. no more…” you whimpered as he pulls outs of you. You were out of breath, close to blacking out.

“Okay okay.. shhh shh.. that was last one, my pretty girl..” Chan comforted you after coating 5 orgasms out of you. He wiped you down before throwing the towel away, pulling you into his chest.

“Ohh— is it 5 already?” He questioned after glancing at the alarm clock which made you look up to confirm.

It has been 4 hours since he peeled your dress off you. And although you were wrecked, it was worth every second.

“I got no sleep.. Gotta call off practice,” he says and your face immediately lits up. The tiredness gone the second you know he was finally going to be home on a Saturday morning. He smiles at you before reaching out for his phone and unlocking it.

Chan Practice cancelled for today

Seungmin Why?

Chan Gotta deal with Y/N

You watch as he converses with his group members. “Okay but then thats makes me seem annoying,” you complain and he looks down at you.

“She’s sick?” He chuckles, with a raised eyebrow.

“But then I don’t want them to think you took the day off just because I’m hung over,” you complained again, with a fake pout.

“Should I just tell them the truth then?” He suggests, placing a kiss to your forehead. “Tired from fucking Y/N since she came back from the clubs,” he says and you playfully hit his chest getting all shy at how he blew your back just a couple minutes ago.

“They all will understand. I’m sure they missed their girlfriends too,” he said, throwing away his phone and pushing your head in his chest so you can finally rest.

���Since I’m home today baby..” he starts, and you hummed. “What do you want to do when we wake up?”

{🏷️ Taglist for this series: @lolareadsimagines}

[hanichani]

texting channie when he's back in australia

Pairing: chan x gn!reader

Warnings: none that i can think of

a/n: I thought all these little text convos w skz were so cute so I made one as well since channie is in australia now… lemme know if u like this type of content!!

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

hoodie season || Chan x Reader

Summary: You're not stealing Chan's hoodies. He's not happy about it.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings & Tags: Tooth-rutting fluff, established relationship, that should be it.

A/N: Wrote a silly lil one-shot for an idea I got tonight! This was literally written in under two hours, so, uh, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did lol and I apologize for any typos.

Reblogs, feedback and comments are welcome and encouraged!

It starts, without you being aware of it, on a July evening. You and Chan have only been dating for a couple weeks then, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. For the better half of the night, which you’re spending with his friend group, you’re in his arms, your back against his chest, his chin comfortably resting on your shoulder. Changbin and Jisung tease him about it, but he shrugs it off like it means nothing. He’s got you now, and he likes showing you off, so why wouldn’t he?

It does take you aback when he lets go of you and the cold hits you. It was hot outside all day, and you hadn’t realized that the temperature had dropped by this much. A shiver shakes you to your core, which Chan doesn’t miss, even if he’s being called away to play the guitar.

“You want my hoodie?” he asks, eyes filled with concern.

“No, I’m okay, babe,” you say with a smile. “I’ve brought a jacket.”

He nods, and that’s all there is to it.

It comes back on a night the two of you are spending out. Chan takes you out to this fancy restaurant, and you dress accordingly, always pleased when you get a chance to impress him — and impress him you do. He does that thing that you think is adorable, where he keeps giggling throughout the meal. Under the table, your knees keep touching, and every time, without fail, his ears turn bright red. You love that you still have that effect on your boyfriend of three months.

After that, because you’re near a park, you decide to go for a walk in the night air. It doesn’t take long before you’re shivering in your small, tight dress.

“I’ve got a hoodie in my car,” Chan says, ever the gentleman. “Want me to go get it for you?”

You’re not keen on being left alone in the dark, and your high heels mean that if you go with him, it’ll take much longer than it should. Plus, it would ruin your outfit.

“It’s fine,” you say, arranging your scarf so it wraps around your shoulders. “We’ll be heading home soon anyway, right?”

“Sure,” he nods quickly, and it’s your turn to giggle, because it’s so cute, how Chan always indulges you.

He ends up picking you up when you’re walking back too slowly for his taste, and you protest, but you’re no longer cold when you get to his car.

 The subject — which, by the way, you still haven’t realized is a subject — comes back yet again on a night you’re spending in his apartment. You’re coming out of the shower, a towel wrapped around you, and you’re going through your bag to find the clothes you’d planned on wearing for the night when something lands on the bed in front of you. You glance up to find Chan looking at you, leaning against the door frame.

“Just in case you get cold.”

You have, slowly but surely, made your way into November, but Chan’s place is warm, and you know you’ll have a human radiator, so you grin at him.

“I have a feeling I won’t be needing it tonight.”

Chan grins — but his ears turn red, even now.

 You do a Secret Santa, a few days before Christmas, with Chan and his friend group, at Changbin’s place. It’s an incredibly nice house, but it’s big and it’s old, and you soon find yourself huddling against Chan for warm. It makes him laugh at first, and he presses a kiss into your hair, arm solidly wrapped around you as he rubs your arm. When you don’t appear to warm up as the night keeps going, he disappears for a few minutes, ignoring your protests.

He comes back from his car and hands you one of his signature black hoodies.

“You’re my savior, babe,” you sigh as you pull it over your head.

Chan beams.

His victory is short-lived, though, because you pull away from him after that — with the hoodie, cuddling makes you too hot.

You leave the hoodie neatly folded in his car when you both go back to your place for the night.

It’s just a few days later that you meet Chan’s family for the first time. You’re all dressed-up, determined to do your best so that they’ll like you, even if Chan’s promised you that they would, no matter what, because he loves you, and that’s all they care about.

He dropped the word so easily, and you were left speechless. You haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Even now, when you’re sitting next to him, making small talk with his mom and listening to his sister tease him playfully, you have butterflies in your stomach. The hand he’s placed over yours on the table, again making it look so natural, so easy for him, isn’t helping.

“Wanna go for a midnight walk?” he offers, later that night. “It’s kind of a family tradition.”

“Sure,” you say, voice squeakier than usual, and he tilts his head as he studies you, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“You’re not dressed warm enough,” he warns you, and before you can say that you’ve brought appropriate clothing, he’s taking off his hoodie and pulling it down over your head. “There. All good.”

It’s late when you come back, so you both wish his parents a goodnight before Chan drives you back to your apartment. You wait until you’ve made it up the stairs and you’ve opened the door to put your arms around him and pull him down for a kiss. It’s soft, slow, and filled with all of your emotions.

“What’s that for?” Chan whispers against your lips. He’s warm against you, his hands on your hips, and you feel so grounded by him. You always do.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

The hoodie ends up forgotten on the floor.

You celebrate New Year’s Day with Chan’s friends, again, but really, they’re your friends by now. You get at Changbin’s house early so you can help with the cooking and decorating the place, and end up teaming up with Felix and Minho in the cooking department, while Hyunjin takes over the decorations and forbids everyone from approaching him while he works.

It’s not because he’s shy. It’s because he thinks you’re all terrible.

Chan arrives kind of late minute, busy working on songs, as always, while you’re putting out the drinks you’d brought with you. You greet him with a quick kiss. You still have a million things to do.

“I’ve got your hoodie in my bag, you should put it back in your car,” you just tell him as you rush back into the kitchen.

You miss the way he pouts at you.

It’s later that night, but still with a couple hours to go until midnight, that he approaches you while you’re outside, staring up at the night sky and enjoying the fresh air after hours cooped up inside. He wraps his arms around your waist, buries his head in your neck. You lean back into the familiar touch with a satisfied sigh — until he mumbles something unintelligible.

“What was that?” you ask with a frown.

Even with the only light coming through the windows of Changbin’s house, you can tell he’s blushing when he pulls away from you.

“Why aren’t you keeping my hoodies?”

You blink at him.

“…because they’re your hoodies?”

He opens his mouth, closes it.

“Yeah, but they’re kinda… your hoodies too, y’know?”

You tilt your head slowly, and soon, you’re unable to fight the grin that’s spreading on your lips as you watch him get increasingly pouty.

“Do you want me to steal your hoodies?”

The blush spreads.

“Do you like it when I wear them?”

You’re just having fun now.

“Yeah,” he answers, before cocking an eyebrow at you. “Think it’s hot, by the way.”

You burst out laughing, and he tightens his hold around you when that takes you away from him. God, do you love that man. Once you’ve collected yourself, you reach a hand up to gently cup his cheek.

“Okay, I’ll steal your hoodies. Anything for you, love.”

He smiles, satisfied, and kisses you softly. He brings a hand to cover yours, entangles his fingers with yours.

You don’t tell him, but the truth is, you feel warm and fuzzy all over inside whenever he’s around.

So you don’t see the point in having a hoodie when you can have him instead.

taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

Masterlist

[classicalchan]

liar

pairing: bangchan x f! reader

rating: sfw

tags: sharing a bed, just pure softness, cuddling, best friends to lovers, pining, confessions, tired chan

wc: i'm too lazy to count but idk it's probably 2k 😭(I'm definitely wrong)

your doorbell rings when it's close to midnight, its sound reverberating through every corner of your little apartment. your socked feet carry you from bed to the door on autopilot. you weren't sleeping, but you were nearly there.

you open up your front door and off-white light from the hallway spills shamelessly into your dark living space. Chan stands there, bag slung lazily across his shoulder, eyes droopy with sleep.

"they borrowed my place for a party i don't wanna be at," he declares. "I'm sleeping here."

he walks in without waiting for an answer, wrapping you in a quick, one-armed hug for a greeting on his way. his bag finds its place on your couch. he switches a couple of lamps on here and there and fixes a photo frame on his way to your bathroom with a towel and some clothes in hand.

you kind of like how it's so natural for him to be at your place. like he belongs here. like he could live here.

you wished he would.

you lay back in bed, shifting to a side, leaving the rest of the space for Chan. ever since you first cuddled up with him a few months ago, it became an unspoken rule between you to always sleep cuddled up when alone.

it was one of the best parts of your friendship with him. you could abandon every care in the world when he was around and just be. He was always there- gentle, warm, protective, kind. everything you wished for in a man.

everything you can't have.

it had been weeks since you had gone to bed without thinking of him. even in the face of extreme exhaustion and no contact, Chan never failed to slip into your thoughts. he needed to compensate you for all the nights you couldn't sleep just because he did something adorable during the day and you wouldn't stop thinking about it.

he needed to apologize for every time you accidentally called one of your friends by his name, just because he wouldn't leave your head.

and he needed to desperately make up for nights like these. nights when he would touch you and let you touch him, but never enough. there was always a weighted, invisible boundary you hated with all your guts. a burning line you couldn't cross.

so, over the days, you had learned to make peace with what you got, no matter how little. you had learned to make the most of his arms around you, the firmness of his torso pressed to your back, the warmth of his breathing behind your ear, his occasional sleepy rambling.

sometimes he said your name.

before you knew it, the mattress dips beside you, the familiar scent of Chan's shampoo filling up your senses. you came alive a little.

his arm slips across your middle, pulling you as close as humanly possible into the abyss that was his warmth. you could spend an eternity here without a syllable of protest falling from your lips.

“i don’t have a shirt on, is that okay?” he mumbles into your hair.

more than okay, you wanted to say but for the sake of the friendship you had spent years building, you resorted to a small hum. he usually slept barely clothed, but when with you, he always asked. he made sure never to cross any lines. he was cautious, reserved. too far.

“is everything okay?” you ask. “you usually do not turn down a chance to party.”

you feel him move behind you, long fingers fiddling with the thin fabric of your t-shirt. he yawns like a puppy.

“i’d had a busy day,” he begins. “i needed some sleep and you know how bad i am at getting to sleep alone...”

his knuckle accidentally brushes your navel. you shiver.

“…besides you weren’t there. i’ve missed having you around y/n, now that i see it.”

your skin flushes hot, lips involuntarily swelling into a smile. you turn your face into your pillow, determined to bury your happiness into the fluff.

“i’ve missed you too,” you confess.

his blunt nails graze against your flesh again, and you wonder how much of it was accidental anymore. could Chan tell? did he know how down bad you were for him?

“liar,” he whispers, squeezing your body lightly into his own.

he liked to do that, you had noticed. almost as if finding a way to inch closer, as if making up for the fact that there would always be some molecular distance between you no matter what.

or maybe you were just reading too much into it.

you place a hand over his own, fingertips drawing subtle lines into his pale skin, tracing the veins you stared at shamelessly in broad daylight.

“you really think i’d lie to you?”

“you wouldn’t?” he asks.

you turned around, facing him. your hand settles on his bare chest. you could feel his heart beat beneath your touch.

“no,” you confirm. “never.”

he smiles, his hair getting into his eyes as he puts his forehead against yours.

“okayyy,” he giggles. “tell me something then, since you claim to not lie.”

your heart picks up pace, hammering beneath your chest, and you were half afraid Chan might hear it. you swallow thickly, a small lump forming in your throat.

“yeah?”

his gaze wraps over you like a veil, clouding everything else just enough that he is all you can see.

"do you like me?" he whispers.

the question drops in your heart and sinks into your gut. you've been caught, red-handed. but you were so careful, so vigilant, looking but never for too long, complimenting him but being careful not to flirt, telling him you love him when he needed to hear it but taking care to conceal the love you felt.

you want to play it cool. you're scared of how it's going to go.

"duh," you say. "of course i like you, why else would we be friends?"

he clicks his tongue, a soft laugh escaping his lips. he drops a light kiss on your forehead and you sigh.

"you're not that naive," he states. "come on, I'll wait for you."

you feel your cheeks heat up. it gets harder by the second to stay still, not with chan's fingers rubbing warmth into your back, his face so close you could steal a kiss. he was no fool. he never had been. who did you think you were hiding from?

"i..." you begin, your mouth drying up. "yeah."

you feel his marble fingers slip under your chin. pressure, soft but commanding, forced you to look at him.

"you what, sweetheart?"

the endearment sent you spiraling. you squeeze his muscled shoulder, fingers digging into flesh.

"don't be an ass," you say. "i'm not gonna say it."

he chuckles. you watch his gaze move across your face, settle on your lips, and then back to your eyes again. you didn't want to think ahead of yourself.

you didn't want to break your heart.

he leaned in, his arm circling around your waist, his mouth leaving a soft kiss to your temple. you could die like this and it wouldn't be so bad.

"please," he whispers. "you said you'd be honest."

and who were you to turn down chan with his gentle voice and sturdy hands and body warmth and huge heart and ---? you could go on forever.

you grind your teeth together unconsciously, draw in a deep breath, and sigh. he knows you're giving in.

"i do like you," you admit finally. "so much more than a friend."

his palm slides up your back and finds your hair, long fingers gripping them and pulling you in. he smiles when he kisses you- mouth tasting of cinnamon and longing and want.

"fucking finally," he breathes. "you've got no idea how long i've waited for this."

you melt into a caramel puddle in his hands. you lean in again, pressing your lips onto his like he'd disappear, like this is all you've got.

taglist: @tinysoftie

NAVIGATION

join the taglist <3

[babyleostuff]

౨ৎ voicemails lee chan leaves you while he’s on tour - fluff (with a pinch of angst), established relationship, gn!reader (pet names used: baby, sweetie)

...one: hi baby, so we just landed. i can't wait to get to the hotel, i'm exhausted. hope you're sleeping well too, i'll call you in the morning. love you

…two: huh, i think i forgot how it feels to sleep without you. i couldn’t fall asleep yesterday, at all. did you, um, did you sleep well? or is it me just overreacting maybe

...three: why did you turn off your location, baby? you're acting suspicious again, and i'm scared. don’t think for a second i forgot about that last prank you pulled

...four: what are you up to today? any plans? make sure to eat before you go out, and text me when you have some time

...five: hi, so this is seungcheol. shut up dino, or i won’t give you the phone back. your boyfriend got a bit, eee, drunk, and he wanted to call you to tell you something. someone hold him back or else. the point is, he was too drunk to dial himself so i had to do it for him. dino come here, and say what you want to say. I LOVE YOUUUU

...six: shit, i was so drunk yesterday. i hope i didn’t say anything embarrassing. i’m sure the boys would stop me if i was about to make a fool out of myself, though (pause) yeah, they definitely wouldn’t stop me

...seven: i checked the weather back home, and it’s so cold. make sure to wear my coat that i left you sweetie, it’s the one that you like so much. if you need any hoodies or sweatshirts you can always borrow mine

...eight: saranghae nunbit

...nine: i never would've imagined a game of monopoly could be that intense

...ten: i miss you a lot, you know? i didn't want to tell you earlier, so you wouldn't think i'm clingy, but i really do miss you. do you think we can talk over face time? i don't want to fall asleep alone tonight

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom

[lixie-phoria]

ੈ✩‧ 🎀🩰 ➛ chan thinks he's subtle as he pines over you

pairing : chan x gn reader

prompt : chan was hopeless when it came to flirting with you. his idea was to post on instagram and wait for you to like the picture and magically realize one day that you're just as much in love with him.

genre : fluff !

felix's ver. | hyunjin's ver. | jeongin's version | lee know's ver. | changbin's version | han's ver.

felix is the first one to notice chan sitting by himself in one corner of their dressing room, brows furrowed and anxiously chewing at his lower lip.

"what's wrong, hyung?" he asks from across the room, successfully capturing everyone's attention.

"nothing." Chan tries to brush it off, but everybody notices the blush creeping up his cheeks.

han giggles, eyeing the phone their leader keeps checking every two minutes. everybody knew what had the idol in such a mood.

you probably hadn't liked the latest selfie he had posted.

Bang Chan was a producer, instrumentalist, singer, dancer, rapper, and leader of one of the biggest 4th gen kpop groups, but when it came to you, he couldn't help himself. the thought of maintaining eye contact with you for longer than a second, much less flirting with you, reduced him into a blushing-stuttering mess. hence, he resorted to the least noticeable option - posting semi thirst traps on their public instagram account, waiting for you to notice the post and like it.

"if you want them to see it, just send it to them." lee know teases.

"I am not waiting for y/n to like my post!"

"I never said I was talking about y/n."

That shuts chan up. he throws a hand over his face, groaning. "I can see that they're online. why wont they just like it?"

jeongin rolls his eyes, pulling out his own phone and sending you a message, which you read giggling.

[ innie ] hey, please do us all a favor and like chan hyung's latest post?

the next minute chan jumps up from his place, a wide smile pulling at his lips.

"They liked the post!"

jeongin really didn't have the heart to tell chan what he had to do.

©lixie-phoria, 2023.

[astraystayyh]

All for you

skz and the vows they'd write for you.

fluff. gn reader. word count-3.9k. listen to video games by lana del rey if you can!!!

a.n: thank you to @a-cute-french-fry and @dorisnumber1fan for brainstorming some of these with me <3 i made myself very delulu with this so ENJOY. happy 3k!!! i love you all muahhh <3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 chan ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

Chan's warm hands are in yours, fingers tangled with one another tightly- like the sturdy roots of an ancient tree.

“Baby,” he calls out softly, and you can already feel tears well up in your eyes at the tenderness in his voice. His thumb reaches out instinctively to wipe the lone tear that managed to escape. His right hand remains on your cheek, cradling it gently.

“Seungmin always liked to joke that I was nearly half-fifty-two. Then half fifty-three on my next birthday,” he starts, as a faint giggle escapes your lips. “That's how I counted time too, with the different days I lived… That is until I met you.” He pauses, a shaky breath leaving him and crashing onto you. “Suddenly I was no longer twenty-six. I was one week old since I met you. Three months since I’ve loved you. And then five years since you changed my life. Years no longer marked the passage of my time. It was you who marked the passage of me.”

“I always had this idea in my head, that I was only worth loving easily. If I diluted all my problems, concealed all my flaws and insecurities to please the ones around me, only then was I deserving of love. But you...” His eyes soften, even more so than they were before. “But you loved me, you loved me on my happy days, and on my darkest ones. You loved me, even when I couldn't understand it, even when I couldn't see what was there to care for in me. So, thank you, for showing me that I am worthy of love, simply because I am me. Thank you for choosing to be patient with me. You don't always know what to do to help, nor do I, but you try, and I try, and isn't that what love is, in the end? To take time out of your day to try, for the person you love?” His voice cracks, as sudden tears wash over his rosy cheeks.

“And I love you. I love to love you. And I cannot not love you, not when my heart beats to the melody of your existence. I promise that even when I’m eighty, I’ll always try to love you better, softer, gentler. I'll never stop trying to be worthy of your love, to be worthy of being yours. Only ever yours.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 minho ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“Angel,” Minho smiles softly, the back of his hand brushing tenderly against your cheek. “I love you, so so much. You know that, right? I probably don't say it as much as I feel it, because I always do. Every second of my existence is spent loving you. Even when I’m not fully awake, and still floating in that hazy space between dreams and consciousness, I can still feel it deep within me that I love you. It is the one thing that ties me back to life itself.”

“And I never... I never imagined that I could adore someone this much. So much that I always think of you, always miss you, even when you're near. Because I feel as if I missed out on years of loving you, back when we didn't know each other. And I- I want to love you, hard enough so it'd feel as if I’ve done it for your entire life.” He's blinking repeatedly, you're surprised he can still read the words scribbled on his paper. You can sense that the tears glistening in his eyes are on the verge of spilling, so you grab his hand and squeeze it gently. 'I'm here', you silently say- he understands.  

“Thank you for holding my hand. Now, and every time I’ve needed you. Thank you for being here for me, with me. I... I always thought that people like me were destined to be alone. But- but being with you feels like I’m with myself. There's no need for me to pretend. Thank you for not making me pretend anymore. You are my mirror, you and I are one, and I- I hope...” He brings your hand to his chest, where his heart beats wildly- 'stay with me' it sings to you.

“I hope you can always feel my love for you. Now and when we're too old sitting on the patio of our home, and my hand is still in yours. Because my heart belongs to you, it beats for you and I breathe for you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 changbin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“You're breathtaking,” Changbin whispers in awe, his eyes tracing the contours of your body with each lingering look, like the brush of a skilled artist.

“So are you,” you giggle, but he shakes his head vehemently, drawing nearer to you. “You are the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I can't believe I’m marrying you,” he chuckles in disbelief, before grabbing your hand and twirling you around, showing you off for all to see. 

“Look at who I’m marrying!” he shouts with bursting excitement, as he dips you down, his nose grazing yours gently, a soft touch amidst the loud exclamations around you. 

“Still sure you want to marry him?!” Seungmin shouts from his seat and you giggle, wrapping your arm around Changbin’s waist. “I do!” 

Your laughter gradually fades, as Changbin clears his throat. His head is tilted to the side, a small, incredulous smile drawn on his lips as he contemplates the loveliness of this moment- of marrying you. 

“My baby. My beautiful baby. I think this is the happiest day of my life. But again, every day is a happy one with you. I... I've never known that love could be unconditional, that loving someone would feel as simple as breathing. Until you. Loving you doesn't feel like I’m taking something out of my being, and giving it to you. But rather, I’m nurturing something within me, a blossoming tender emotion that grows within my soul. Loving you...” he steps forward, cradling your cheeks in his warm hands. “Loving you makes me happy, immensely happy. Because you are the sunset that makes people stop in their tracks to admire it. You are the beautiful scenery that gives hope to everyone who witnesses it. And you make me feel alive. More than I’ve ever been before you.”

“And I promise...” he pauses, wide eyes trying their best to embrace each feature drawn on your face. “I promise to love you more today than I did yesterday. I promise to shoulder the pain that slips through the cracks in your heart, the one that you try so hard to conceal from me. I promise to hear your silent cries and to hug you until your soul stops bleeding. I promise to see you, even when you try to hide from me. I promise to hurt if it means you'll feel less pain. And I-” his voice trembles as it washes over your old scars, delicately erasing them from your memory. 

“I will love you. When the pain seems too big, I will love you. And when your happiness shines the brightest, I will love you. I am madly, irrevocably, desperately in love with you. My heart is tangled in yours.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 hyunjin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“My love,” Hyunjin begins before abruptly stepping forward, pressing his lips onto yours. The kiss is dizzying and sweet, it reminds you of the figs he hand-fed you yesterday- honey dripping down his tongue onto yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers once he steps back. “I couldn't help myself. You're so pretty,” he admits sheepishly, and you giggle, too in love to ever mind.

“Where was I? Right, hi, my love. Writing these vows was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Not because I didn't know what to say, but there is so much I wish to express, to talk about when it comes to you. How my soul seems to burn for you. How you’re my last love, but also my first, because I don’t think I’ve ever truly loved before you. Not when you are love itself. But I… I found this journal entry, from four years ago. And I want to read it to you.” He clears his throat, a useless attempt to erase the quiver in his voice.

“I used to believe that love was meant to be grandiose. Extravagant gestures and confessions that will seem too magical for any ordinary human. That’s what I craved; a love so big it would overtake my being completely. But... But tonight, you played with my hair as I laid my head on your lap. And we held hands while drinking warm tea on your couch. And it felt enough, more than enough for me to lead a beautiful life. One worth remembering, one worth commemorating. All because it’s with you.

I realize now that I no longer have to search for love all around me, because you hand it to me, so freely, so selflessly. You love me on our extraordinary days and our mundane ones. I never have to second guess it with you. We may be angry, sad, or frustrated, but the love always remains. It's the one emotion that ties us together, that anchors us to one another. My compass. You.

I don't think I ever 'fell' in love with you. Because a fall can never be gentle, it always hurts, even if for a little. And you must always get up afterward, in a minute, in an hour, in a few years. You can't stay down forever. But this, what I feel for you, the emotion that makes my heart beat is tender and soft. It feels like walking inside a home where the light is golden, the windows are wide open, and every past version of me finally finds what it was looking for all along. I want to stay in you for a while. For a long time. For the rest of my life. And I’ll do whatever it takes so you’d let me.

P.S: I am sleeping with a light heart tonight. I hope that, for as long as I’m breathing, you will always too. You deserve it, more than anyone who has ever walked this earth.”

There is a long pause, as Hyunjin’s words hang over the air; they knock the breath out of you but simultaneously fill you with life. You step forward, swiping away his tears gently. He brings your hand to his mouth, soft rosy lips brushing against your knuckles. 

 “I guess I've been writing my vows since the day I met you,” he smiles softly, delicate love overflowing from him. “Every painting, every journal entry, was to you, by you, for you. Thank you for being my home. Thank you for choosing to love me, every day. Thank you for allowing me to witness the magic that is you. I will forever and always orbit around you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 han ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“Have I ever told you that you're my favorite artist, sweetheart?” Han’s voice is gentle, as he begins speaking. It reminds you of the waves lapping at your feet when he proposed to you. “I feel as if, as soon as you stepped into my life, you began to paint it with the most vibrant colors. The ones I’ve been desperately longing for. Because it is hard… to see the world as a rainbow when you've felt in blacks and whites for so long.” Han’s gaze softens as he spots the tears now trailing down your cheeks. “Shh, don't cry, honey. Or I’ll start crying too, and I don't think I can stop then,” he whispers and you nod, a breathy giggle escaping your lips.  

“My mind used to be a scary place. But it no longer is, because it's now filled with thoughts of you. I like to imagine that you planted yourself a little garden there, vibrant tulips and roses. And these flowers may wither down. But they will always bloom again, watered by my love for you, and your love for me. And I hope you know that I... I'll always be there for you too. When the thoughts in your head won't quiet down, I’ll talk for as long as it takes to distract you. And when you want to sit in silence, I’ll be near you, holding your hand. And when you want to be alone, I’ll be there, lingering around the door, within your reach. In whichever shape you want me, you'll get me. I am here, I won't ever leave you.”

“And now I’m crying too” Han chuckles softly, and through the shimmering veil of your tears, you cling to his hand to see.

“I really, really don't know what I ever did to deserve you. But I know I’ll try my entire life to be worthy of you. For as long as I’m here then there will always be someone who loves you. Someone who is proud of you; for breathing, for trying, for never giving up. Please never forget that. You are my strength, my peace, my home. You are everything I have ever dreamed of in human form.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 felix ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

The golden rays reflect on Felix’s eyes as he looks down at his paper. A summer wedding- he insisted, his only condition to you. It is ridiculous, you wanted to tell him, to expect it to be any season but summer when he is the sun.

“Hi baby,” he grins, twinkling brown eyes captivating yours. “God, I’m so nervous. I rehearsed this ten times in front of chan. I think he learned it by heart now.” You giggle, as Chan’s laughter travels across the venue. “I’m not usually afraid of speaking in front of people. But you aren't anyone. I guess that's why I’m nervous. You look really beautiful today. This isn't in my papers, I just wanted to tell you. Because you are. You're always beautiful but today you're absolutely breathtaking and I can't believe I’m marrying you. Thank you for saying yes,” he pauses, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “I’m rambling, aren't I?” you nod, a wide grin on your face. You love him.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I... I'm known as the massage fairy, right? I think I might've massaged almost everyone present in this room.” The loud cheers of your friends signal that they agree.

“I used to, I mean, I do it because you get knots in places your hands can't reach, and it feels nice, for someone to ease the ache of your muscles for you. And I always thought that massages were strictly physical. That it just undoes tension in your body, nothing more, nothing less. And I never told you, because it sounded silly in my head. But I knew... I knew I loved you when you massaged my shoulders for the first time. Do you remember, baby?” he asks, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “That was two months into our relationship. Which is fairly early, but time means nothing when it comes to you.”

“My shoulders were sore, and when I told you, you stood behind me instantly. You started to massage my shoulders and I almost cried right there and then. Because your fingers worked delicately, and it felt as if you were kneading your love into my body. You lifted an invisible weight off of me that day, an emotional one. I didn't even know it was there until you touched me. That's how I knew you were different, to me. That your touch wasn't strictly physical, that it reached into depths of my soul, that it soothed aches I’m not even fully aware of,” he pauses, drawing in a deep breath.

“You already know this, but I... I never really learned how to deal with sadness, because it all happens so suddenly with me. One bad thought always brings with it ten others and suddenly I am pulled into a pool of horrible feelings. But your hands keep me afloat until I’m ready to swim by myself again. I think... I think you understand my sadness more than I do. Maybe because you're a part of me, two halves of the same heart.” His voice softens at the last word, as unshed tears glimmer in his eyes.

“I hope, I pray, that my hands massaging your sore shoulders would also reach into your soul and heal its ache. And I know I might not make you feel better, instantly, or in a day, or the following one. But I promise that I won't ever leave, even if the bad times stretch forward. I'll be with you, patiently, just as you do to me. I may not understand myself fully, but I know that my soul was crafted to love you. Every atom in me is yours, and that is enough knowledge for me.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 seungmin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

You take a step forward, brows knitted in concentration as you carefully readjust Seungmin’s black tie. Your hands then glide to his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his suit. “Nervous?” You ask, and he responds with a subtle nod, planting a chaste kiss upon your forehead.

“Don’t be. It’s just me.”

“It’s never ‘just you’ to me.” He gently holds your chin, dainty fingers commanding a cascade of butterflies inside you. “Just look at me, okay?” You smile tenderly and he nods, taking a step backward.

Seungmin draws in a deep breath, eyes traveling over the entire room before finally settling on you.

“I’ve always liked math. I liked the security that numbers gave me, the exactitude of this science. Because one plus one equals two, and no change in our world, however grand it may be, could ever alter it. I liked things that I could grasp, that I could wrap my head around fully. Tangible rules and formulas. They were my safety net. Until you came into my life. You were the wildest variable I’ve ever encountered, and being near you made me crave things I’ve never known. You pushed me out of my comfort zone, but I wasn't afraid to fall into the unknown, because I knew you'd be there to catch me. So, you became my risks and paradoxically, my safety net, all in one.” He doesn’t look down at his paper- his kind eyes never leave yours, and you’re suddenly the only two humans existing in this world.

 “I remember a Tuesday night, two years ago. You slept over at my house, and we didn't do anything special. We just talked a lot, about everything and nothing, just saying whatever crossed our minds. And then you dozed off on my chest. You looked so... Peaceful in my arms, and I was surprised you weren't woken up by my wild heartbeat. Because I suddenly realized that I wanted a forever with you, right there and then.” You both step forward at the same time, hands reaching out blindly to hold one another.

“I’ve always found it a bit weird to crave something to last for a duration that we humans cannot grasp. Everything we know is ephemeral. Everything has a beginning and an end. So, I never really believed in forever, until you. Forever exists because I can't see myself ever not loving you,” a faint hiccup courses through him, as he looks up at the sky- an earnest attempt to stop his tears from falling. It is useless, because once he looks at you again, emotion overtakes him, rippling from him in waves.

“Even- even when we're both no longer here, and my body can no longer contain my soul. Even if I only roam in space eternally, as a small speck of light, my destination would always be you, because my love for you would be the only thing my soul would remember. The core foundation of my being, the essence of who I am is my love for you, and even if everything around me fades, the love for you will stay.” His forehead presses onto yours, a last whisper, only meant for you- “My eternity is you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 jeongin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

Jeongin's lips graze the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse dances in fervor- for him alone. He looks self-assured, as he lets go of your hand to take out a paper from his pocket. But there is a faint blush tainting his cheeks; it travels down his neck when he clears his throat.

“Baby,” he starts, voice hoarse from barely hidden emotion- the notes of it settle inside your heart. “I don't know where we will be many years down the road, or what we will be doing. But I know that there are things that won't change between us. I know that I’ll listen to all your rants about your favorite show, and I’ll buy you ice cream when you're craving it at 3 a.m. I will still buy two bottles of my shampoo because you love to use mine more than yours. And I like it when you carry a part of me with you, even in such a subtle way. I will still give you my jacket, even when you insist you aren't cold, but I can tell, because I know you. I will...” He sucks in a deep breath, as his vision grows blurry from the tears in his waterline.

“I will make you coffee in the morning, exactly how you like it, down to how many ice cubes you use. I will warm up your towel as you shower and I will fold your laundry because I know you hate doing it. And I- I will hold your hand when we cross the road, and in crowded places, and in the lines of every coffeeshop we’ll go to. I will run my fingers down your spine when you're about to sleep, and I will-” Jeongin's tears splatter across the paper, smudging its black ink. His lips are quivering, as the paper shakes in his hands.

“I will kiss your tiny bruises and remind you to breathe on- on days where...” Jeongin crumples the paper in his hand as he finally looks at you. He’s crying, a stream of tears trailing down his cheeks like a floodgate that isn't planning on stopping. “On days where it seems impossible to.” He finishes, the words he's written long forgotten by him. He didn't need to read them when he had you in front of him- the sole holder of his love.

“And I will hug you tight on nights when your sadness feels bigger than what your body can contain. And when words don't seem to make sense in your head, I’ll- I’ll listen to you, I’ll understand you, I’ll learn you. And I will love you. I will love you and I’ve loved you and I love you. And I- I wish there was a word bigger than love to describe how I feel for you. Because four letters never seem enough when it comes to you. But I am yours, body, heart, and soul. Wherever you go I follow. Till the ends of the earth, I'll be there.”

[christronomy]

been thinkin about a soft make out session with channie. he's been so stressed lately, and you noticed, so you decided to pay him a short visit one night while he was still working. you didn't expect things to end up this way—you straddling your best friend's lap while he's seated on the sofa in his studio, his arms wrapped around your body, holding you close. you're making out slowly, lazily, touching anywhere your hands can reach. he jolts just a little when you slip your hands under his shirt to feel his soft skin. "cold," he whispers against your lips, and you can't help but giggle. he simply looks up at you and doesn't speak for a long time, but the silence between you is extremely comforting. it's always like that with him.

it's like you can practically see the hearts in his eyes as he looks into yours. you always make him forget. you always make things better, even by doing something as simple as looking at him. it's always like that with you. "baby?" he starts, and you hum softly, nodding to let him know that you're here, you're listening, he's got your undivided attention. he loves how easily you respond to that nickname, as if he's called you that all this time. and he loves you. he wants to say it so badly, and that little voice inside his head is practically screaming for him to do so, but he can't just yet. so instead he just shrugs, shaking his head and muttering a soft "nothing" as he puts a gentle hand on the back of your head, pulling you in for another kiss.

he loves you, has loved you all this time, and although he can't bring himself to say it yet—because this all happened in the blink of an eye, and he's still trying to process whether or not it's actually real—he just hopes that the urgency in his kisses, the way he's holding onto you like you'll disappear at any moment, the way he looks at you... he hopes that, at least for now, that is enough to make you know.

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.2k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, berry being the perfect girl she is. inspired by these bubble messages and @cosmic-railwayxo's treachery. (love u deni)

𝟬𝟲:𝟯𝟲 — “Where’s my baby, hm?”

This is the question on Chan’s lips the moment he lets go of the bedroom door, closed with agonizing caution as to not wake the figure still curled up under the duvet inside.

It’s early. Early enough so the walls are colored a rich beige by new rays of sunlight, so his footsteps are the only sound reverberating around the hallways when he commences his search. Early enough to evidence how he was only bestowed a few hours of sleep before waking up with a budding headache and leaden eyelids.

But he doesn’t mind the lack of rest, not this time. Not when there’s a wad of love with a freckled snout and floppy ears under the same roof for the first time in too long.

“Berry?” Chan calls, his voice tattered and low, like sandpaper. He rakes his eyes over the spots he remembers to be her favorite. Maybe they’ve changed since he was last home. Maybe everything has changed since he was last home.

The thought causes a familiar pang to go off within him, poignant and powerful, but the quiet scuffle of paws against hardwood takes the edge off the guilt straightaway.

Chan finds the beginnings of a smile on his lips before she even rounds the corner, and when she does, well. His grin might as well split his face down the middle. He’s on his knees in seconds, outstretched hands rediscovering home in the puppy’s silky fur as she clambers onto him with blown pupils and excited pants.

His adoring coos of her name falter into muted laughter, which then fragments into a sob. His vision narrows to his precious girl and then starts to blur. When Berry climbs up to give his cheek a few happy licks, she’s fascinated by its saltiness.

You emerge from the bedroom a little over an hour later. Sleeping is hard enough when you’re jetlagged, and even harder when there’s only mattress where you remember Chan’s warm solidity to be. The fabric of Chan’s hoodie suppresses your vocalization of his name as you ungracefully pull it over your torso, still struggling to rouse your body from sleep.

Your beckon produces no response. You wrap a hand around the nearest door frame and peek your head into the living room, a little more alert now.

“Chan? Baby?”

You feel silly. How many visits has it been for you to still feel this nervous, wandering around Chan’s family home? Yet you undoubtedly are, whether because of your absentee boyfriend or that his whole family is a few walls away. You pad through the silent abode with mounting trepidation and intense care to not make any more sound than necessary.

Then you reach the family room and instantly come to a standstill, hands drifting to your sides, features deliquescing to a soft smile. 

Lying on the nearest couch is your boyfriend, head propped up on top of his elbow, his fluttering lashes and gently oscillating shoulders indicating that he’s asleep. You can’t see his face below his eyes, as he has his nose nuzzled into the Cavalier spaniel resting securely in his arms, snoring tacitly into his sleeve, slumbering as deeply as her human companion.

You’ve been stumbling upon Chan sleeping in unexpected places for the better part of two years now, but you still liquefy every time as if it’s the first. These are the moments, you’ve come to realize, when you can care for him in ways he would never let you while conscious: a lift of his laptop off his thighs, a brush of your lips against his hairline, a cardigan draped lightly over his back. These are the moments when you understand in full how far you’ve come together, for him to trust you with his exhaustion with such transparency, to be so vulnerable as to leave you with memories of him that he’ll never have.

Despite your prolonged experience, it’s hard to describe what exactly you’re feeling in this moment. The mere mention of Berry has always dissipated the shadows that veil his face, has always chased off the burdens that cling to his spine. How do you put it into words, seeing your happiness at his happiest?

It suddenly occurs to you that the window beside them is cracked open. That, and you spotted extra quilts in the top shelf of Chan’s closet last night.

Chan’s eyelids lift when he feels the gentle weight of a blanket fall upon his body; so do the corners of his lips, when the culprit materializes before him. Sitting on the edge of the couch, a hand hovering over his frame, face creased into a flinch.

“Sorry,” you whisper, closing the distance between your fingers and the curve of his neck. The pad of your thumb moves over his cheekbone like a willow branch skimming water. “I didn’t think that would wake you up.”

Both of you up, you mentally amend, seeing as Berry has noticed your presence and is wagging her tail with enough vigor for it to thump against Chan’s chest. He lets her wriggle out of his arms and into yours; you emit a noise of glee and gather her into you.

If only you had seen the expression he wears then, watching your eyes scrunch closed at the frenzied kisses she presses to your face. His first love and his very last.

“Don’t apologize,” he answers. “I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you in bed, I just…”

His voice trails off, but he knows by the softness in your irises when they meet his that you already know.

You move like clockwork. Chan presses up into the back of the couch, the quilt’s edge lifted in wordless invitation. It is your chest that Berry burrows into this time, the top of her head sliding into the space between your chin and the sofa’s cushion. It is Chan’s chest that you’re folded into, the arms around your waist like the coziest of cabins in a sun-spattered wood. It is the back of your neck that he nuzzles his nose into, but not before he litters gossamer kisses across the expanse of skin, as if printing the notes to a lullaby he knows well.

Everything is warm, so warm, so right, and jetlag starts to feel like a distant trouble.

You open your mouth while teetering on the cusp of a dream.

“Baby?” 

He hums into you, listening.

“Always be happy, okay?”

You don’t notice the solitary tear that traverses the bridge of his nose, lands in the cotton of your hood, and dyes the bunched-up fabric a few shades darker. You don’t notice how his embrace around you tightens marginally, like how one’s eyes can’t help but find their dearest possession when the building’s on fire.

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your nape once more. Your and Chan’s eyes close together. Berry licks your chin again, then follows suit.

(Another hour later, Chan’s parents walk into the family room. They decide to go out to breakfast for fear of making too much noise in the kitchen, Chan’s mother blotting away tears as she ducks into shotgun, Chan’s father laughing at her sentimentality while blinking back his own.

Another few hours later, Hannah takes maybe fifty-some photographs of the triad of unmoving heaps occupying their couch. Then she grumbles at Berry for being dead asleep at eleven in the morning: “Those two arrived here from across the world yesterday. What’s your excuse?”)

🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support.

[pettypuppy-jonghyun]

So Pretty | Bang Chan

Summary: you give Channie the love he deserves

Notes: Channie's recent live has given me sad hours and I want you all to imagine what it would be like if bang chan could receive the love and affection he absolutely needs and deserves

Warnings: none, other than the fact it's too short:(

"You are so pretty," you coo to your lover. You adjusted your position on the couch so you could lean over, cupping his cheeks between your palms and squishing them together gently.

Chan's eyelashes fluttered closed as your lips pressed soft kisses to the eyelids. "You're the beautiful one in this relationship," he mumbles.

"Hmm, while I can certainly take a compliment, you also have to learn to accept my opinion. And that is: you are the most beautiful person to ever exist."

Chan giggles at your confession, finding the embarrassment to be too overwhelming. "What are you even saying?"

He opened his doe eyes to look at you, a little sparkle flaring in them as he caught the genuine love in your eyes. You smiled sweetly, placing another peck to his face. "As you know, I'm never wrong. So I couldn't possibly be wrong about this either."

Your lover couldn't fight you anymore. He knew better than to let the moment get pushed into a deeper conversation, potentially ruining the happy mood you intentionally set for him. Instead, he watched you carefully tuck tendrils of his hair away, enjoying the way you looked at him. Your smile always made his heart light up like the starry sky.

Chan dipped his hands down to grip your waist, tugging you into his lap to hold you properly. He watched you adjust comfortably, thighs on both of his hips. He rested his hands on yours before leaning down to lay his head on you shoulder.

"Tell me I'm pretty again," he mutters quietly, eyes closing to peacefully listen to your voice.

You play with the strands of his hair softly. "You're so pretty," you whisper, humming afterwards. "So, so pretty. I could stare at you all day long. The many different shades of brown your eyes can have when they glisten in the sun. The shape of your eyebrows," you paused your words as you thought about it.

Chan let out a short laugh. "My eyebrows?"

You nod. "Yes. Your right eyebrow sticks straight up after a really good nap! But the minute I go to smooth it out, it stands right back up. And yet, it's such a handsome feature. Because it's you all natural."

Chan hums softly, truly listening and hanging onto your every word. He never thought he could hear someone compliment him and accept it. Chan found himself compelled to believe your words, despite his own internal differences.

"I love your lips, and how you've learned to tilt your head for cute pictures because your smile curls more to one side. It just fills my heart with butterflies seeing you smiling so prettily for me. I love your curly hair the most out of all the styles, no matter how unruly it may get. The soft way it lays on the top but goes crazy on the sides, practically begging for me to play with it!"

The laughter bubbling between the two of you forced him to pull away. Chan looks into your eyes to ground himself again, his lips curling into that smile you loved. "You are so charming with words."

"I wasn't done-"

"It's fine!" He cuts off quickly, hand covering your mouth. "I'm fine. I love you, and I appreciate your words. I appreciate you."

"But?" You press, finding a mischievous glint behind his eyes as you remove his hand.

"But....I need a shower. My hair needs to be washed, actually."

"Curly Chan?!" You gasped.

He nods. "Curly Chan. Please order some food because we are about to have a long night in." With a wink, your lover set you back onto the couch and ran for your shared bedroom, swiftly closing the door behind him.

[mixtape-racha]

boyfriend!chan thoughts

chan would be the best bf so yeah | sfw and nsfw under the cut

warnings: mention of having a period and taking medication, mentions of getting engaged/married, moving in together, mirror sex, shower sex, public sex, hickies and marking, voyeurism, home videos, pegging, somnophilia // minors dni, 18+

sfw

boyfriend!chan who learns all the names of your stuffed animals because you have specific ones for specific circumstances (if you're sick, tired, stressed, etc.)

boyfriend!chan who tells you he's going to marry you one day at Least three times a week - and the thing is he truly means it!! he's just waiting for the right time to really propose

boyfriend!chan who wears a necklace with your name/initials on it so everyone knows he's entirely, wholeheartedly and 100% yours in every way, shape and form

boyfriend!chan who has reminders on his phone for any medication you take and when your period is due - just in case you forget to take them or forget to track it. he even messages you to remind you when he's away on tour

boyfriend!chan who gets a tattoo of a heart that you've drawn on his chest, right above where his heart is, because to him you ARE his heart and he wants part of your close at all times

boyfriend!chan who wished you happy national girlfriend's day before you were even together because he knew he wanted you to be his girlfriend from the moment he met you

boyfriend!chan who proposes to you when you're in his hotel bed in a foreign country - because to him, the fact that you'd even consider flying out to see him on tour just because he missed you is the biggest green flag he's ever seen

boyfriend!chan who makes a joint pinterest account with you to make inspiration boards for your dream house, and tries him damn hardest to make all those dreams come true when you finally move in together

boyfriend!chan who sweeps you off of your feet and carries you to bed even if you only seem slightly tired or unwell or achy. like, literally carries you bridal style from the front door and tucks you into bed, refusing to let you move and literally carrying you tho the toilet and back if you need it

boyfriend!chan who can't keep a secret from you At All !! like even if he tries to tell a white lie, or tries to hide a surprise date or anniversary or birthday present, it just doesn't work - crazy how a guy is so in love that he literally cannot tell a lie

nsfw

boyfriend!chan who loves fucking you in front of a mirror so he can make you watch how you fall apart on his cock - drool, makeup and tears everywhere

boyfriend!chan who is capital o Obsessed with shower/bath sex !!! in the mornings while you're getting ready, late at night when you need a break from the test of the guys, when you take a bath together to relax - he just loves it

boyfriend!chan who marks you up so often you've never Not had hickies since you got together. he loves seeing the traces of your late night activities on your neck and chest, and knowing that you trust him enough to make you completely his is such a turn-on

boyfriend!chan who drags you into a club bathroom so he can flip up your tiny skirt and pull your thong to the side so he can pump you full of his cum - don't worry about being quiet, baby, no one's gonna hear over the music anyway

boyfriend!chan who has a video camera hidden in his wardrobe purely for making home videos with you - and by god, there's a lot of them over the years. all the tapes are kept in a shoe box under the bed too

boyfriend!chan who doesn't stop pounding into you when one of the boys accidentally walks into the room. in fact, it gets him going even more and he nearly busts a nut when he sees hyunjin's flustered face and hears your moans get more choked up and high-pitched

boyfriend!chan who adores it when you cuff him to the bed and put a blindfold on him before riding him. it sends all his other sense into overdrive and overwhelms him in the best way possible - especially when he hears the wet slaps of your pussy leaking all over him

boyfriend!chan who gets so high on the adrenaline of performing that he physically can't contain himself from picking you up onto the nearest surface and eating you out the second he comes off stage... and mayb he goes back on for the encore with your juices all over his face, his dick straining in his pants

boyfriend!chan who got caught fucking himself with a dildo when you came home one day, and know his favourite form of stress relief is having you peg him, an god he looks so pretty with his back arched for you

boyfriend!chan who ruts against you in his sleep, little whines and whimpers spilling from his lips and reminding you just how much of a cute puppy he really is, and if you stick a hand under his boxers to help him out, who has to know?

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