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daechwitatamic · 6 months ago

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Not So Loud || LC

banner by @itaeewon <3

Not So Loud lee chan x afab reader || fluff smut baby angst || f2l, only one bed trope NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You've been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years, despite his rejection seven months ago. When you're impossibly coupled up on a friendcation, you're determined not to make it everyone else's problem. Of course, you weren't expecting to have to room with him, and you certainly weren't expecting only one bed...

wc: 16.6k

warnings: language, recreational drinking, sooo much pining, baby misunderstandings, kissing, breast play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), piv sex (no protection mentioned either way), reader on top, mentions of shower sex

request by @eoieopda:

yes my fearless leader you may have even two crumbs of lee dino getting laid at the beach, i hope you enjoy every single second of it <3

“This,” you sigh blissfully, “is the happiest I may ever be.”

The sun is shining. Upbeat pop music runs like an undercurrent below the sound of the highway from the stereo of your best friend’s junky, decade-old sedan. Your iced coffee - light and sweet, but not too much of either - tastes like heaven. And the best part, the part that makes this day the best even if you didn’t have iced coffee or sunshine or Ruby or happy music, is that you’re less than an hour away from the beachfront house you and your friends have rented for the next five days.

All six of you had collectively been saving up for a full year and a half to make this happen, and there were times during the wait when it seemed like it would never come together between scheduling and money and rental availability. But now you’re here, racing down the highway to keep up with the flow of traffic, the ocean beckoning you closer.

“Now, now,” Ruby, the aforementioned best friend, scolds lightly. “What about your wedding day?”

You blow a raspberry. “What wedding day?” you shoot back sourly, but then you take another sip of caffeinated, iced perfection and your mood buoys immediately. It’s gonna take a lot to keep you down, today. Still, you rationalize, “I can’t even get to a third date.”

It was true. Your last third date had been almost two years ago. Since then, everything fizzled after one or two. Embarrassing. Something only Ruby - and, by proxy, her boyfriend Mingyu - would know about you.

“Because you compare them all to Chan,” Ruby says sagely.

The beams of sunlight are glaring. The pop music grates on your nerves, too boppy and much too happy. You set your coffee in the cup holder, your hand suddenly smarting from the bite of cold.

Coincidental to the third date thing, you’ve been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years. Another embarrassing Ruby-and-thus-Mingyu-only tidbit.

“Stooo-ooppp,” you whine. “If you’re going to spend the whole time making it weird about him, I’m going to find a way back home! I will walk there, just try me!”

“Now, now,” she says again, mildly. Your dramatics are nothing new to her. “I’ll behave. But I keep telling you - it would be significantly less weird if you’d just tell him you have a thing for him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. A thing.

An every problem I’ve ever had melts away and my soul floats three feet above my body every time your smile crosses your face kind of thing. A hearing your laugh makes me laugh even if I didn’t hear the joke kind of thing. A finding your gaze across a loud room makes me feel like no one else is there but us kind of thing.

A he doesn’t feel the same way, and he never will kind of thing. He made that super clear, about seven months ago.

And it gets worse.

You’ve had a week to accept your fate on this trip - a week since she’d called to tell you that the original rental had fallen through. To tell you that the replacement place is almost better (closer to the beach! a huge deck! a private pool!) except for the number of rooms. That since the other four people attending are made up of two couples, you and Chan would have to share a room.

(“The rooms are huge,” she’d assured you. “And the third room’s got bunk-beds! I bet will Chan will let you have top bunk if you want it - he’s a nice guy.”

You didn’t say, even though it is very true, that bunk-beds are really only a selling point if you are ten years old. But there were more important arguments to make. “I know he’s a nice guy,” you’d bit out. “He’s the nicest fucking guy I’ve ever met in my life, actually!” Hence the thing.

She’d paused and then pointed out, “You’ve met Seokmin, though.”

And, yeah, maybe on paper Seokmin is nicer but looking at his smile doesn’t feel like being filled with sunshine, so the point is moot.)

Anyway. You’ve had time to accept the fact that you have to share a room with the guy you’ve been in love with for over a year and a half. You’ve had time to accept that he might hear you snore, will see that you’re messy, that you’ll have to get changed in the bathroom for the whole trip, that you’ll have to get really good at pretending not to moon over him every time he speaks.

“I think,” you tell Ruby mildly, “that telling him that I want to lick his body from top to bottom and then get married might actually make things more weird.”

“I would just like to say,” Ruby’s boyfriend Mingyu pipes up from the backseat, his voice weary and long-suffering, “that this is an incredibly uncomfortable conversation for me.”

In your defense, you’d thought he was asleep.

Ruby descends on him like a swarm of locusts. “Don’t you think she should tell him she’s in love with him?”

“I actually do,” Mingyu says, covering his eyes with his hands as if he can’t bear to see what a disaster you are. “But I would heavily advise against mentioning the licking. Or the marriage.”

“It’s hyperbole,” you defend, flapping a hand in his direction. But, yeah, noted.

Excitement bubbles in your stomach, despite the rooming situation, when Ruby flicks on her turn signal and moves to exit the highway. Already, the smell of the air through the open windows has turned salty, and the thick tree-line along the highway has given way to cloudless blue sky and the occasional palm tree. It had been almost hazy when you’d set off at the crack of dawn (Mingyu had taken the back seat so he could stretch out and sleep a little longer) but now the sunrise has burned away all of that haze and given way to a perfect morning.

It takes only minutes for Ruby to navigate through the small, coastal town and to a row of vacation homes. You lose yourself in a daydream of waking up to take coffee on a sunlit balcony, listening to waves crash in time below you. In your daydream, across the balcony someone stretches their arms above their head, a sliver of belly peeking out for only a second, then turns to give you a sleepy smile, thinly-wired glasses perched on his nose.

Someone.

You shake yourself free of the fantasy; part of you feels like Ruby can read your mind, like she’s seconds away from calling you out for placing Chan in your seaside fantasy life.

Ruby, however, is too focused on finding the house to read your mind, and she slows the car and turns into a driveway, chirping, “We’re here!”

You all start grabbing luggage to carry in; the sun feels amazing on your skin, the sea breeze cool almost to the point of chilly and so salty it makes your nose twitch. You three aren’t even done emptying your car when you’re startled by a beep-beep-beepbeep-beep from the road behind you.

“That’s Soonyoung,” Mingyu says without even turning to look.

He’s right - it is. The second car, which carries Soonyoung, his girlfriend Lara, and Chan, pulls into the driveway next to you.

Chan greets you with a wide, happy grin (that, yes, makes you feel full of sunshine, whatever) and a quick, one-armed hug as he comes around the front of the parked car. Your moronic heart lifts, stupidly hopeful - until Soonyoung does the same thing. Your heart deflates again with the reminder that they’re just like this - nice, affectionate with their friends. It doesn’t mean anything. Chan’s attention to you is just as platonic as Soonyoung’s - which is to say, entirely.

You all manage to gather the luggage from both cars, and Mingyu follows the rental app’s directions to work the keypad at the front door. You all ooh and ahh as you step inside - the place is roomy, well-lit from sliding glass doors and windows that face the ocean, and decorated with (what else?) a kitschy, nautical theme.

You kick off your flip-flops onto a mat with an anchor on it (per the theme), and follow the others further into the house.

You head straight back through the house - the living room gives way into a dining room that ends with the sliding-glass doors. In tandem with Ruby, you press your face to the glass of the door and peer outside. You’re delighted to see that the ocean is right there, beckoning you to come play. Gulls swoop and call, loud enough that you can hear their cries from inside. Further down the beach you can see colorful umbrellas and tents that other beachgoers have set up. Below the deck, you can see just a strip of the private pool.

You pull yourself away from the back door and head into the adjoining kitchen, where Lara is standing at an open cupboard, examining its contents.

“We’re going to need to do a grocery run,” she muses, looking over at you. “I think all Soonyoung packed was ramen and soju.”

“What else could we possibly need?” he jokes from down the hall, his voice echoing.

“Coffee,” you say immediately.

“Beer,” Mingyu says seriously.

“Meat? Vegetables? Stuff for breakfast? Something to drink that isn’t alcohol?” Lara suggests.

“Who invited the Capricorn?” Soonyoung (the person who invited the Capricorn) grouses.

“Without me,” she tells him seriously, though the corner of her mouth twitches, “you’d be malnourished at best, and at worst? Dead.”

“Probably true,” you say, giving her a conspiratorial nod, and then you hear Ruby call your name from upstairs. Her voice sounds strained, and a little alarm bell goes off inside your head.

“Yes?” you answer loudly, hoping your voice will carry up to her.

“Can you come up here for a minute?” she calls down to you. Yes, there is definitely an edge to her voice that you don’t like. “Now?”

“Oh jeez,” you mutter, starting to make your way towards the stairs at the front of the house. You take the stairs quickly, calling Ruby’s name as you navigate the unfamiliar house.

She and Chan are both standing in the hallway, open doors all around them. Their faces mirror each other - disbelief, anxiety.

“What?” you ask, a little breathless both from the stairs and from anticipation. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s, uh,” Ruby stammers. It’s very unlike her to lose her confidence, and the unease in your gut churns again.

“What?” you say again, and when she doesn’t answer, you turn to Chan, who looks stricken. “What is it?”

“No bunk beds,” he manages, finishing Ruby’s sentence and gesturing to the room behind him.

You’re pressing forward without making the decision to move, without answering either of them, crowding Chan’s space so you’re chest to chest, peering over his shoulder. His hands hover near your elbows, like you might overbalance and he’s ready to steady you.

The room behind him is huge - as Ruby promised - complete with an ensuite bathroom and the balcony straight out of your daydream in the car. It also, as Chan pointed out, does not have bunk-beds. Instead, one king-sized bed is centered against the far wall, flanked by wicker nightstands with lamps on each and an old-school radio alarm clock on one.

You say nothing - you just back out of Chan’s personal space and swivel, heading for the other doors. Surely that was just the wrong room - one meant for one of the couples. Surely they just didn’t look hard enough, didn’t check the other doors, didn’t find the room with two beds that you’d been promised.

You find a full bathroom, a linen closet, one door that remains locked, and - to your dismay - two identical bedrooms, neither of which hosts more than one single bed.

Realization trickles through you slowly, building up higher and higher as you check the doors a second, and then a third, time. Ruby and Chan stay frozen in place in the dimly lit hallway, watching your frantic, pointless searching.

“Oh, my God,” you say hollowly. Then, turning, you narrow your eyes. “Ruby,” you growl. “You promised. Where is my top bunk?!”

“I don’t know!” she squeaks. “The listing said four beds!”

“Call them,” you demand flatly.

Beside Ruby, Chan’s eyebrows scrunch as he frowns. He says your name quietly, holding up a hand as if to calm you. “We don’t need to move houses,” he says gently. “I’ll take a couch. It’s not a big deal.”

You feel yourself shaking your head immediately. “I will feel like shit if you spend your vacation sleeping on the couch because of me,” you tell him.

He and Ruby exchange a long look (something that you don’t like very much, but no one is asking you) and then she tentatively says, “Could we work it out later? Maybe one of the couches pulls out into a bed or something? Or do you really want me to try and get us a different rental? This is already our second one, I’m not sure there are even other options still available…” She trails off, eyes wide.

You sigh, eyeing the ceiling above you as if it has answers. “Fine,” you say, because you can’t stand the thought of being the one who’s causing problems, ever the people-pleaser. “We’ll figure it out later.”

You head back down the hall, tromping down the stairs in silence to get your luggage.

Chan tries to take one of your bags for you, but you shrug him off and he lets you. You follow him back up the stairs, to the large room you’d looked at a few minutes ago. You both stand in the middle of it, looking around. You’re unsure if you should even unpack in here if there’s a chance you’ll end up moving to the couches.

“It’ll be okay,” Chan says, and it startles you out of your thoughts so badly that you flinch.

“Mhm,” you manage, because you don’t want to lie to him by agreeing.

“Hey,” he says, a little insistently, and you look up at him. He’s looking at you openly, his expression an impossible mix of concern and optimism. It disarms you immediately, in a way nothing else ever has.

There’s something always so earnest about Chan, one of your favorite things about him, and you can’t help but believe him when he continues to speak. “It will. We can, like, take turns with the bed or something. It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t let this ruin your trip. Okay?”

You nod silently, thinking about this. He’s right - there’ll be a solution. “Okay,” you say, managing to give him a little smile. “You’re right.”

The grin he gives you is mischievous. “I usually am,” he quips - and you love that about him, too: the way he’s playfully cocky, something ironic in the way he displays it, like you’re all in on the joke and he’s happily his own punchline. He disappears into the hallway, where you hear him heading down the stairs.

You wait for the tornado of butterflies in your belly to calm back down and then you look around the room. You finally decide to just leave your bags in a pile near the dresser, and head back down to find the others.

Everyone is standing around the kitchen table, where it seems like a grocery list is being split into Things That Can versus Things That Cannot be bought at the local liquor store.

“We can take one car and handle the drinks,” Mingyu is saying as you walk up and lean your chin on Ruby’s shoulder from behind. She absently reaches up to give your head an affectionate pat as you both listen. “Then the grocery team can take the second car, and whoever is handling the rental office can just walk.”

“Rental office?” you ask. “What for?”

“Just to grab our passes for the beach,” Lara answers you. “They’re like little tags. It’s part of what we paid for.”

“The rental’s under your name,” Soonyoung reminds her, “so we should probably handle that.”

“Yah, you just want the easy task,” Mingyu complains.

Soonyoung grins, guilty as charged not at all sorry about it. He grabs for Lara’s hand and heads for the front door. “If we aren’t here when you get back, we’ll leave your passes on the table!” he calls, and then the door slams shut.

“Asshole,” Mingyu grumbles affectionately.

The four of you look at each other in the resulting quiet. Then, Ruby asks, “Anything you want to add to our list?”

You lean further around her to read her phone screen, scanning what drinks had already been requested.

“Nope,” you tell her. “I’m good with that. Does this mean I’m on the grocery team?”

Chan looks up from his phone when you ask this, waiting to hear the answer.

Ruby and Mingyu meet gazes, seeming to have a silent conversation. Then, she gives you a sheepish look, almost a grimace. “Yeah - sorry, but I kind of wanted to go with Gyu on the drinks run, if that’s okay?”

You’ve been best friends with Ruby for a long time. You know her in and out, and you know this: she’s not like this, not sweet and apologetic. If it was just you two, she’d just say what she wanted. The act is for a reason.

You blink at her, trying to figure it out. “Of course it’s okay,” you say slowly. “If you and Mingyu are handling the drink run, then I’ll handle groceries with Chan.”

Ah. That was Ruby’s game - she paired you with Chan on purpose.

Meddler. Pain in the ass. Angel. Light of your life. She contains multitudes.

His eyes drop back to his phone. “You don’t have to,” he says, not looking at you. “If you want to go with them or catch up with Lara then I can handle it by myself.”

You frown. “It’s not really a one person job,” you observe. “And I don’t mind - really.”

“So it’s decided!” Ruby says brightly, moving to rest her hand on her boyfriend’s forearm. “We should beat you back, but we’ll wait for you guys so we can help unload the car.”

“Thanks,” you say, meaning it. For everything.

Ruby and Mingyu head out, and you meander closer to Chan. You’re not alone together very often - you’re pretty much always in a group setting.

You’d met through Ruby and Mingyu, years ago. You and Ruby were a very packaged deal, and Mingyu had a crew of friends that filtered in and out of your social events like they kept a scheduled rotation. When Soonyoung had settled into a serious relationship with Lara, the two of them became pretty permanent fixtures with Ruby and Mingyu, and Chan usually went where Soonyoung did. So then you were six.

How perfectly even. How serendipitous. How nearly fated.

If only he saw it that way.

But he doesn’t, he’s made that clear. It was Lara’s fault, actually. That night is burned into your brain, an unpleasant memory custom-made to slither into your brain when you’re trying to sleep before a big day.

The six of you had been bar-hopping on a Saturday night about seven months ago. It had been cool - late autumn teasing winter, and you’d been shivering as the six of you rowdily made your way up the block to your next stop. Laughing at something Soonyoung had said, Chan had reached around your shoulders sloppily, pulling you tight against him.

“Cold?” he’d asked you, as you tried to keep walking - a challenge because of both the alcohol in your system and the alarm bells going off in your head over his hand on your arm.

“Definitely chilly,” you’d managed to reply, looking up at him sideways. His profile was sharper than you’d realized before, and it sent a wave down your core, sinking like a weight through your stomach and into your lower belly and he grinned down at you.

You never wanted him to let go. Never, for the rest of your lives.

“You two are cute,” Lara had said drunkenly, the words a little slurred, as she leaned heavily on Soonyoung. You’d flushed, a little embarrassed, but Chan’s reaction had mortified you. His eyes had widened and he’d gone so far as to retract his arm from around you as quick as lightning, moving sideways to put inches between you again.

It left you frozen, a block of ice.

“No - we’re - we’re only friends,” he had said emphatically, and Lara had apologized, her hand over her mouth. Then, Ruby had tripped on the sidewalk and ripped the knees of her jeans, and the whole incident was forgotten.

Not by you, though. Never by you. This was the moment that floated up like the ghost of Christmas past whenever Ruby urged you to confess to Chan, which was more frequent than you’d like. The rush of cold in the absence of his arm, the way he’d stuttered in his hurry to refute the misunderstanding.

Message received, Lee Chan. Loud and fucking clear.

Didn’t change a thing about how you feel, though.

Presently, you try to push this out of your head - the fact that there’s no social buffer between you, no Ruby or Soonyoung to hide behind - before it can trip you up. “What’s on the list?” you ask. He hands you his phone, lets you scroll through everything he’d typed up.

“Okay,” you say, handing it back. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Yeah,” he says, a little absently, then starts patting at his pockets, eyes scanning the tabletop. “Yeah, I’m ready. Aish, Lee Chan, where did you put the keys?”

“They’re by the door,” you offer, remembering the small table you’d all dropped them on as you came in.

He shoots you a grateful smile. “Thanks. Let’s go?”

You nod, grabbing your sunglasses from the table and following him to the driveway out front.

It’s less than ten minutes to the nearest grocery, not even enough time for three whole songs to play through the car’s stereo, half-drowned by the roar of wind and sea through the open windows. Chan grins sideways at you as he parks, running a hand through his messy hair before unbuckling and stepping out of the car. You shake yourself from your daze and hurry to follow.

“What’s the game plan?” you ask, as you step out of the summer sun and into the fluorescents and air conditioning. Your skin prickles instantly upon the change. “Divide and conquer?”

He pulls out his phone and brings the list up. “I’d rather just stick together,” he says, looking at you sideways, his voice a bit thin - like he’s nervous you’ll reject the plan. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” you say, shrugging easily.. “I’m just following you. I’m the assistant. You’re in charge.”

Something flashes across his face - a shooting star of an expression, gone before you’re sure you saw it - and then he’s pushing the cart into the produce section, calling over his shoulder for you to go grab some peaches.

You wind your way together through the store. Each time he stops the cart, you each dart after something else from the nearby shelves then reconvene to look at the list again, shoulders pressed together as you squint at the small font.

It thrills you each time that he doesn’t pull away, each time that he doesn’t hurry to put space between you again as he had back in November.

Don’t make it weird, you beg yourself as you load a few cases of soda into the cart. Keep it in check.

A few rows over, the cart a third of the way full, you pause at a row of sauces. You step back, scanning the labels, then drop into a crouch to read those on the bottom shelf. Chan drops beside you, his knee gently bumping yours as he reaches for one of the jars, bringing it closer to scan the label.

“This one’s my favorite,” he says, and there’s something low in his voice that makes you look over at him. Your fingers overlap his for a second as you take the jar from him, turning it over so you can see which one it is. The moment feels staticky, charged with something.

You chicken out, shuffle back on your heels so your knees no longer touch. “It is a good one,” you agree, putting it back in his hand and pressing your palms to your knees as you rise again. “Get a few - I think Ruby likes that one too.”

He nods, looking away again, dutifully reaching to grab a second jar. You move on to the next aisle in silence. You almost feel like his energy seems… disappointed. But that wouldn’t make sense at all.

Turning the corner to the first row of freezers, you feel your body react instantly to the cold and you immediately fold in around yourself, goosebumps rising up your arms.

“Oh, it’s cold,” you complain. “Let’s hurry. Please.”

Chan doesn’t respond, but you can feel his eyes sweep over you, heavy, before he starts pushing the cart past you at, yes, a quicker speed. You shiver once, violently, before you hurry after him.

When you’re done, stepping outside into the sunlight feels like being released - like leaving school on the last day before summer break, like leaving work before a vacation, like stepping outside for the first time after rain has kept you inside for days on end. You let it warm you, happy, as you help Chan load the bags into the car.

You drive the few minutes back to the house in silence. As Chan makes the last turn, you wonder out loud, “Do you think Ruby and Mingyu finished before us?”

“Definitely,” Chan says, and he’s right - as the house comes into view, you can see that the second car is already parked.

True to their word, Ruby and Mingyu greet you at the door to help carry everything in and put it away.

“Lara grabbed us a spot down on the beach,” Ruby informs you, as you both stand at the back of the car, scanning for the lighter bags. “As soon as we’re ready we can head down.”

You let out a happy sigh. “I think an afternoon at the beach will cure me.”

“Nothing will cure you,” she deadpans, then literally stops mid-stride to correct herself. “Actually, something could. And it’s here, and available, and sharing your room.”

“I hate you a lot!” you tell her brightly, pushing past her with an armful of groceries and heading into the relative dark of the house, praying Chan hadn’t overheard her bullshit.

You hurry through the rest - getting the groceries away, getting changed for the beach, throwing the things you need to bring into a tote. Downstairs, the others wait for you by the back door. Chan is wearing Mingyu’s dumb-ass sunglasses and is clearly in the middle of an old-man bit, his voice reedy and sarcastic. Ruby cackles as Mingyu shoves Chan’s shoulder playfully, reaching to get his eyewear back. You can’t help the wave of affection you feel for them, your goofy friends.

You all step out into the sand, eyes adjusting to the sun. You follow Mingyu’s shadow on the ground as he makes his way towards the spot Soonyoung and Lara saved for you. You drop your tote in the sand and help Ruby spread out a blanket, using your shoes and bags to hold down the corners. Mingyu and Chan settle a small cooler off to one side, filled to the brim with ice and drinks.

You pull your cover-up over your head and toss it in the direction of your tote bag and stretch out, closing your eyes happily and letting your body relax under the warmth of the sun, the sound of breaking waves rhythmic and soothing. You’re startled by the sound of music and open your eyes again to find Ruby setting up a bluetooth speaker near the cooler. She looks at you sheepishly and hurries to lower the volume.

“Sorry,” she giggles. “Didn’t mean it to start so loud.”

To your left, Chan is pulling his white t-shirt over his head. Your eyes widen and you look away as fast as you can, catching Ruby react exactly the same, her eyes comically large.

You both turn your backs to the boys, and she mouths at you, what the fuck?

What the fuck is right. You’re used to being around Mingyu, who has an admittedly perfect body, and even Soonyoung is shockingly cut under those baggy t-shirts and cropped hoodies he sports. Chan’s always been the little one, the most normal, the most obtainable in his regular-ness.

Something’s changed since the last time you were all swimming together. He’d always had a nice body, but this…

You close your eyes against the bright summer sun, as if you can block out the curve of his pecs, the shadowed lines hinting at abs. None of those had been there last summer.

That motherfucker. First, he rejects you, then he gets hotter? You hope he gets eaten by a shark today.

You push yourself to stand.

“Where are you going?” Ruby hisses.

“I need a beer,” you tell her flatly. “Actually, maybe ten beers.”

“I’m not holding your hair today,” she warns you flatly, and you flip her off and make your way to the cooler. It’s going to be a long day.

You manage to get a few hours of peace and sanity by laying out with Ruby and Lara, just enjoying the music and occasional chitchat. Further down the beach, the guys run around with a volleyball but no net, making their own asinine rules.

“I still say you should tell him,” Ruby grumbles, after catching you watching Chan from behind your sunglasses for the ninth time, and you shoot her a warning look. But the damage is done - Lara latches on, her eyes sharp.

“Him… Chan?” she guesses. You feel your face heat.

“I’m that obvious, huh?” you murmur reproachfully.

“I mean,” she says uncertainly, looking to Ruby as if for backup, “I think you both are? If it helps?”

“Both?” you repeat flatly. “I wish.”

She exchanges a look with Ruby again, a silent conversation that you aren’t part of.

“He’s not into me,” you say, easy, like the words don’t cut at you. The salty air hits the wounds and makes them sting. “He’s been clear about that.”

Ruby’s brow furrows; you’ve never actually articulated this in front of her before.

“He has?” she asks, her voice suddenly gentle and almost sorrowful. “You never told me-”

“You were there,” you protest, then look over at the guys to make sure they hadn’t stopped yelling and running. “You both were, actually. That night when you tore your knee open outside of Ivy and Ivory?”

“Yeah,” Lara says slowly, her eyes on you, “I remember that night. That was… kind of the first time I thought he had a thing for you? Like, I know it was a while ago, but -”

“A thing for me?” you echo, working hard to keep your voice quiet. “When you called us out he was so horrified he couldn’t even touch me - he acted like it burned him -”

“Honey, no,” she says seriously, leaning forward. She looks incredulous at your perspective.

“Bestie,” Ruby says, giving you a please believe me, your best friend, who would never lead you astray look. “He was terrified that you’d get spooked.”

You press your mostly-empty beer can to your chin, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

“He wasn’t embarrassed at the idea of being coupled with you,” Lara whispers, her eyes on the guys, whose game has drifted only minutely closer to your blanket. “It was one of those like, shut up or you’ll scare her away moments. He wanted to kill me.”

“Literally, if he’d had a cartoon thought bubble, it would have said shhhh, not so loud!” Ruby adds. She peers at you. “Did you really take it like that this whole time? You thought it was a rejection?”

“He practically pushed me into traffic!” you hiss defensively, and both girls explode into laughter.

“That is not what happened,” Lara insists, and then heads to the cooler, leaving you, Ruby, and your very confused thoughts.

You look at her. She looks at you.

“I thought you knew,” she says finally, holding up her hands in mock innocence. “I had no idea you took it that way.”

You can’t respond - the boys return at this exact moment, Mingyu flops dramatically next to Ruby, panting heavily, sweat running down his face.

“Jagiya,” he gasps like he’s dying. “Water. Please.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, but a water bottle lands next to Mingyu’s head before she can get up. You turn towards the cooler and see Soonyoung standing with his hands on his knees, also panting, while Chan digs around for presumably another water bottle.

“You need anything out of here?” he asks you over his shoulder.

You shake your head. “Thanks, though.”

You rise, brushing errant sand from the backs of your thighs, squinting at the water. The waves are breaking evenly, and there’s room to tread further out past the breaking point. “I think I’m gonna go in,” you announce to whoever is listening.

Lara shakes her head, reaching one hand up to tug at Soonyoung, obviously wanting him to sit by her. Ruby flaps her hand at you as if to tell you go on. She’s never been a big swimmer, more of a giant unicorn floatie kind of girl.

You stop when you’re ankle-deep, letting a few waves break and rush over the tops of your feet, adjusting to the temperature. You start to wade in, the water rushing around your shins, when you hear your name called breathlessly behind you.

Chan jogs up, his hair pushed back, a thin silver chain bouncing against his collarbones. You look away before you can get caught. Ruby and Lara’s words race through your brain. Have you been wrong about him this whole time? Have you misread every signal over the last three years, viewed it through the wrong lens?

“You can’t leave me alone with them,” he complains, face twisting in exaggerated suffering.

You laugh. “Can’t stand being the fifth wheel, huh?”

He shakes his head, smiling, still trying to catch his breath from volleyball and then the jog over here.

“You coming in?” you ask him. “I was gonna go out and tread for a while.”

He nods. “You don’t mind if I join?”

You look at him appraisingly, new information starting to process inside your mind, shifting the rules you’d followed for months. The sea air makes you bold. “You?” you say. “I would never mind.”

You don’t wait to see his reaction; you step further into the water, hitting just above your knees when you reach the spot where the waves are breaking. You stumble a little as a wave hits your thighs, and Chan’s hand finds your elbow, firm but unassuming, helping you steady yourself again.

When you reach waist-deep water, you eye the spot just ahead where the waves reach their tallest point as they gather on their way to shore.

“We’re gonna have to go under that,” you tell Chan. He actually looks nervous, which makes you laugh. “Want me to hold your hand?”

The smile he sends you is both self-deprecating and relieved, like he can’t believe his answer is yes, but yes, and he’s so glad you asked.

“Come on,” you say, laughing again. You hold out your hand and he takes it, and when the next ocean swell rises before you like a mighty wall you hold your breath and tug him under. It’s an act of faith, dipping below the roaring ocean, hoping you time it right. You keep his fingers tight between yours and let your body sink.

You surface on the other side, in an area of relative calm. Beside you, Chan wipes at his face with his spare hand, which makes you realize you’re still holding the other. You release it gently, treading water easily. Chan can probably just touch sand if he stretches.

You tread together quietly for a few minutes, less than six inches apart. The sun glints off the water around you, dancing and sparkling as the water moves. You wish you could ask him about that night, years ago, confirm Lara and Ruby’s interpretation of the events. You could - you just aren’t brave enough.

You look at him, familiar and beautiful and - until today - unobtainable. What if you swam closer, what if you pressed yourself close and kissed him, right here in the ocean?

If it ruined everything, you could just let yourself drown. And if it didn’t… well, you could let yourself drown a different way, then.

You chicken out. You chat about inconsequential things instead - his upcoming trip with his family, a work project you’d recently wrapped up that you’d been talking about for months, what the plan will be for dinner when you all get tired of the sunshine.

It’s easy to talk to Chan - it always has been. He’s quick with a joke or a bit, but always open and earnest. He watches you quietly when you talk, accentuates his stories with his hands when it’s his turn. Eventually, Ruby joins you. Mingyu stands at the edge of the water, one hand shielding his eyes, watching her go.

“He’s not coming in?” you ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Doesn’t want to get his hair wet. God, the water feels great. Anyway, we’re thinking of heading in soon, to get showers and stuff before we figure out dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Chan says.

“I’ll be right in,” you say, and beneath the water you grab at Ruby’s hand. Stay.

Chan gives you both a wave goodbye and heads towards the beach. You both watch as he steps onto land, approaches Mingyu, and shakes like a dog, spraying water all over his friend. You can hear Mingyu’s shout of protest even from here, and Ruby’s maniacal laughter echoes around you.

“How’s it going?” she asks you slyly, when she’s finished laughing at her man. Like she knows the answer already.

“Nice of you to ask!” you cry. “Actually! I’m kind of having a meltdown! Because for nearly eight months I thought he’d told me unequivocally, irrevocably no, and now I am finding out that he… I don’t even know. What does it mean? That was ages ago, surely even if he felt something then…”

“Only one way to find out,” Ruby says, way too sensibly.

“That’s not helpful,” you grumble.

“It is helpful, it’s just not easy,” she says sagely. You splash a handful of water towards her head and she shrieks, swimming further away from you.

“That’s enough of you,” you tell her, and start heading in towards the sand.

Back at the blanket, the boys and Lara have mostly packed up. You pull your rolled up towel out of your tote and dry off briskly. When everyone is accounted for, you all collect your things and head back up the walkway towards the house.

You put everything away - leftover drinks in the fridge, wet towels in the washing machine, etc - and the couples disappear into their rooms, doors closing and locking up and down the hallway.

Which just leaves you and Chan.

You follow him to the end of the hall and into the large room you’ll be somehow sharing. He turns on one of the bedside lamps and stops to plug his phone in, then looks over at you.

“You wanna shower?” he asks, tossing his phone lightly onto the bed. You can only stare at him, short-circuiting, until he clarifies. “Do you want to go first?”

“Oh,” you utter, quickly trying to recover. “Yeah, if you don’t mind?”

He waves his hand graciously towards the dark bathroom, as if to say, be my guest.

Showering turns into a reprieve - a locked door between you allowing you to jumpstart your brain again as you feel the hot water remove all the hidden bits of sand clinging to your legs and back.

While Chan takes his turn after you, you escape outside with a cold soda from the fridge. The beach beyond your rental’s deck is still pretty busy, but the crowd has thinned a bit since you all packed up. The sun descends behind the house, which means the sunrise tomorrow morning will come over the beach.

Mingyu seems to be preparing the grill, and Ruby bustles around, bringing out ingredients and setting them close to the grill. On one of the cushioned benches, Lara drapes her legs over Soonyoung’s legs and talks with him quietly, both of them giggling.

Since it seems like your help isn’t needed anywhere - you’ll help set the table when the food is almost ready, as is your usual job as a non-cook - you sit with your cold drink and watch the waves break, lost in thought.

Lara and Ruby seemed so sure that you’d misread Chan that autumn night. There’s a small part of you that’s still doubtful, but at the end of the day you do trust their judgement. So, assuming they’re right, Chan had been interested in you. That was over six months ago, though. It doesn’t mean anything now except that… well… if he was interested in you once, there’s a possibility he could be again. Or still.

Your move, it seems, is to figure out if that’s the case. Chan hasn’t done anything recently to indicate that he’s disinterested, but he also hasn’t done anything to indicate that he is. He - like you - has played it very safe. It isn’t until now that you’ve questioned if it’s because he actually sees you platonically, or if he thinks that’s what you want.

One of you is going to have to push the boundary, to test the waters.

When Chan emerges from the house, freshly showered and hair falling over his forehead nearly to his eyes, you look up from where you’re sitting and watch him thoughtfully. He pauses at the grill to ask Mingyu something, then passes by the mess of limbs that is Soonyoung and Lara, then drops onto the seat next to you.

“Mingyu says it’ll be another twenty minutes or so until everything’s done,” he informs you.

“Guess I should get the plates and stuff,” you sigh, leaning forward to set your drink on the table.

“I can help you,” he offers, and follows you inside, where you both open cabinets and drawers in the unfamiliar kitchen until you find everything you need.

He heads outside ahead of you, his hands loaded with utensils and condiments, and you pause, watching his dark silhouette against the evening sunlight. Your heart tumbles, and you jerk back into motion, following him into the light.

You all stay on the back deck until well after sunset. As the sky sinks into deeper and deeper blues, you rise and plug in the string of lights that weave through the beams above the deck, casting everyone in a nearly-orange glow. Mingyu sets up the tabletop fire pit, but you end up chilly anyway as night takes hold.

You shiver once, and you notice Chan looking sideways at you.

“Cold?” he asks, and the wave of deja vu you get is almost dizzying.

You shake your head instinctively, more against the memory than actually answering the question. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you do have goosebumps rising along your arms.

He gets up anyway, heading into the unlit house without a word. You rise a beat later and head across the deck.

Ruby calls your name like a question, and in answer you point at the cooler tucked behind the grill, where you’d all stashed beer and water bottles. She gives a quick “ah” of understanding.

“You need one?” you ask her, as you shuffle behind the grill and pull on the cooler’s lid.

“I’ll take a beer,” Mingyu answers for her, and you dig through the bottles and cans until you find his preferred brand, reaching to pass it to him over Soonyoung’s head. Then you turn back and look at your options, trying to decide if you want a can of spiked seltzer or if you want to go inside and mix something a little harder.

While you’re deciding, the glass door to your left slides open, and Chan steps quietly back onto the deck. He’s in a baby blue hoodie that he hadn’t been wearing before, and he carries a bundle of dark material in his hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, holding it out to you. “It felt weird to dig through your luggage, so I grabbed one of mine.”

You take his offering silently, fighting a tiny smile. “Thanks,” you say, equally quiet, like you’ve both agreed you want to keep this moment between you, not call the attention of the others. You shake the dark hoodie out and pull it over your head, slipping your arms into the sleeves and fixing the hood so it’s not inside-out. The hem falls almost past your shorts, and the sleeves reach past your fingers.

Chan bends to grab a beer from the cooler, then heads back to where he was sitting before. You reach for your own drink, settling on a seltzer after all, and when you turn to head back to your spot you can’t help but notice him watching you through the flickering fire pit, something unreadable on his face.

“You good?” you ask him as you settle back into your spot.

“Yeah,” he says, but there’s something tight in his voice that makes the goosebumps rise on your arms again despite the new layer of warmth you’re wearing. That smells like him. You tug on the edges of the sleeves to pull the shoulders tighter and curl up on your chair, tucking your legs into the baggy material and locking back into the conversation.

The night moves slowly, the constellations rotating centimeter by centimeter above you, everything made comfortably fuzzy by the drinks and the firelight. Sometime before midnight, Ruby suggests a walk along the beach.

You go in bare feet, the cool wood of the deck stairs giving way to sand as soft as silk. Mingyu and Ruby take the lead, the rest of you trailing behind. At some point - long after the house disappears from view - Lara stops, pointing up at the moon - a sliver above the undulating sea.

The four of you stop and look for a minute. Down the beach, you can hear Ruby and Mingyu but they’re out of sight in the dark.

“We should probably catch up with them,” you say, looking in the direction of their disembodied voices.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the house, actually,” Lara says, looking up at Soonyoung to gauge if he agrees. “We’ll leave the back door unlocked for you all?”

They say their goodbyes and head back hand in hand, leaving you alone with Chan and that sliver of moon. For a minute, the night seems to expand around you, growing bigger and bigger and leaving the two of you so small within it. Chan looks at you silently, as if he’s waiting for something, one side of his mouth quirked into an almost-smile that makes your stomach swim with the desire to cause a real smile, to push that little almost into something fully-formed.

Then, Ruby calls your names loudly from further up the beach, and the spell is broken.

“Guess we better catch up,” Chan says wryly. You both turn and start walking in silence, nearly shoulder to shoulder. As you walk, the back of your hand brushes the back of his just once, and your entire body prickles at the contact. You almost shift away, give him a little more space, but something urges you to hold the line. You want to see what he will do.

You keep walking, close enough that you can hear him breathing, hear the sand slide each time he takes a step. The back of his hands brushes yours again, warm. He doesn’t react, so neither do you.

You carry on, knuckles occasionally bumping his, until you find Ruby and Mingyu. They’re standing watching the moon, Mingyu wrapped around Ruby’s back like a giant, love-sick koala.

“Where’re Soonyoung and Lara?” Ruby asks, when she notices you.

“They headed back,” you say, stopping a few feet away.

“We should, too,” Ruby muses, eyes on the moon. “But it’s so pretty here.”

“It is,” Chan murmurs from beside you and you glance sideways at him, trying to read him. He’s staring out at the dark sea, the stars flickering in and out above it, giving you his profile. Ruby’s eyes flick to you, one eyebrow quirked. You look away, not wanting to get caught in this silent conversation, but you can feel the heat on your face, the smile tugging at your mouth.

The house is dark when you all return, and you let yourselves back in quietly, just in case Soonyoung and Lara are actually sleeping. You bid Ruby and Mingyu goodnight in whispers and head to the end of the hall. Chan closes the door and you flick on the bedside lamp, casting a low yellow light through the room.

Wordlessly, Chan begins to rummage through his suitcase, transferring items to a small pile - a pair of loose shorts, a toothbrush, his phone charger. It occurs to you, suddenly, that he’s gathering what he needs to leave - to go sleep on a couch.

“Chan,” you say. You don’t even know what you want to say next. You just know you don’t want him to go, don’t want him to sleep on a couch, don’t want to be here alone.

He pauses, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

What do you want to say? Stay? You balk, suddenly chicken again.

“I can take the couch tonight,” you say instead. He shakes his head, but you press on. “We can switch tomorrow.”

“Nope,” he says easily.

“Chan,” you say again. He keeps rummaging, his back to you.

“Chan,” you repeat, insistent. He turns fully, still crouching, and raises his eyebrows as if to say, yes?

“Do you want to just stay here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking. It feels like a moment of great enormity.

He shakes his head, and the rejection stings enough that you feel your breath catch.

But then he says, “No, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch. I’m trying to be a gentleman - quit fighting me.”

You realize, slowly, that he misunderstood what you were offering.

“No,” you say. “I meant… like… no one on the couch.”

He stares at you blankly, his hands open like he forgot he was searching for something.

Embarrassment licks up the back of your neck like flames. “The bed isn’t that small,” you say, a little defensive. “We could just, like, stay on our own sides.”

The blank look on his face slowly transforms. His brows come together, his mouth tucking into a rare frown. He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask something, but nothing comes out. His eyes flick to the bed and then back to you.

“I don’t…” he says, and the heat of embarrassment heightens. He clears his throat and tries again, “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he says slowly.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t okay with it,” you point out.

He nods slowly, then pushes himself to stand. “Are you extremely sure?” he asks, peering at you. “This isn’t a High Noon decision, is it?”

You laugh, the tension dissipating a little. “No,” you assure him. “I just… feel bad putting you on a couch… and I don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch either… and I think we can… not make it weird?”

“We can,” he says, like a promise.

You second-guess your decision the whole time you get ready for bed - as you brush your teeth, as you change into pajamas, as you settle into the side of the bed by the balcony and plug in your phone. You’re nervous you won’t be able to keep it not weird - nervous that you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, that the magnetic pull to touch him will be too strong.

But when Chan climbs into the other side of the bed and clicks off the light, illuminated only by his phone screen, his warmth seeping into the blankets around you, it isn’t your hands that inch towards him. It’s your words. They claw their way out, desperate to reach across the six inches of darkness.

Chan, I’m actually really into you.

What really happened that night, when we were walking from bar to bar?

I’m in love with you, probably. I think.

Are you interested in me? At all?

You fight them all back, hold them all in. You don’t relax until Chan’s clicked his phone off and placed it on the nightstand, whispered goodnight to you, until you hear his breathing deepen. Just in case. Just in case the words get out the second you unclench - you need him to be asleep first so you can be sure he won’t hear them. You fall asleep with your face buried in the crook of your elbow, one last line of defense.

You wake up with your face buried in the crook of Chan’s neck instead of your own arm. You realize it instantly, body freezing like you’re about to get caught stealing, your whole body tight with panic. Like if you don’t move, you won’t wake him, and he won’t know that you cuddled him in your sleep.

Mortifying.

He’s mostly on his back but sort of tilted towards you, and you have one arm over his ribs, your nose pressed into the juncture of his shoulder. But, you realize as you stay frozen, his arms are around you. This was a mutual cuddle. Your legs are touching, too, one of your shins between his.

You try to breathe as shallowly as possible, fight the urge to stretch or roll or scoot away. You don’t want to alert him, pop this bubble, make the moment end. Chan is holding you as the sun rises over the ocean outside. It feels like another daydream, too good to be true. You never want it to end. You wish it was more real than this.

Slowly, you relax, one limb at a time, letting your muscles unclench and inhaling deeply. His skin, warm against your cheek, smells good - still a bit salty from the ocean, even after showering. But it’s only moments later that he stirs, his arms tightening around you and then loosening again as he makes a satisfied, low noise in his throat.

Then he goes still. You freeze back up, watching him for a reaction.

His mouth moves first, quirking sideways, and then he cracks one eye and peers down at you. A laugh bubbles from him and the cuddle is disintegrating around you as he shifts himself backwards and up on his elbows, still chuckling.

“Sorry,” he’s laughing, “sorry. I didn’t - that - I did not expect to do that in my sleep.”

You can’t help your own sheepish smile in return. “Me either, but it was actually comfy,” you admit. Now disentangled, you feel kind of cold and a little sad. But he’s acting like it was a funny goof, your bodies clinging to each other the second your brains turned off, so you’ll go along with the joke.

He rolls over and rummages on his nightstand, returning with his phone in hand and pushing thin-framed glasses up his nose. You look away, heart clenching. You love him in those; combined with the bedhead and his smell in your nose and the warmth of his skin not yet evaporated from yours and the feeling of his arms around you… it’s all a lot.

“I’m gonna… get dressed,” you say, reaching for your own phone. Chan hums a response and you vanish into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting ready as slowly as possible. When you come out, the bedroom is blessedly empty. You close your eyes and exhale. It’s going to be a long day.

When you finally head down to the kitchen, Lara and Chan are chatting easily at the table, steaming mugs in their hands. He’s still in those damn cute glasses.

“Good morning!” Lara greets you brightly. “There’s coffee!”

“God bless you,” you tell her seriously. You open a cabinet in search of a mug, but you’re faced with only plates and glassware instead. Chan appears at the cabinet next to you, reaching up and offering you a white mug with a cartoon seagull on it.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling weirdly shy considering you just woke up pressed against him. Once you fix the coffee how you like it, you take the seat next to Lara at the table. “Everyone else still asleep?” you ask.

“Soonyoung is, but I have to go wake him up in a minute,” Lara says, clicking on her phone screen to check the time. “We have a snorkeling thing at ten.”

“Ruby and Mingyu are out already,” Chan tells you. “Sunrise yoga. She texted us.”

“God,” you say, horrified. “Mingyu’s gonna hate that.” You realize at the mention of her text that you’ve left your phone upstairs.

Chan laughs. “Right?”

Lara rises, presumably to go wake up her boyfriend. “Her text said they’d be out until around four,” she tells you as she moves back into the kitchen to rinse out her mug. “I think they’ll beat us back, but not by much. Maybe we can go grab dinner when everyone’s back?”

“Sure,” you say, shooting a look at Chan to see if he has any opinions on this plan. He shrugs - no opinions to be found. You’ve always loved the way he could just go with the flow, happy to be along for the adventure.

You and Chan are still sitting at the table, coffees dwindling, when Lara pulls a bleary-eyed Soonyoung through the front door with a shouted goodbye, the sound of the car’s engine reaching you from outside. You look at each other, left alone together.

Again.

He gives you a flat, unamused look that he definitely picked up from Seungkwan or Vernon. “Are they doing this on purpose?” he asks, and a jolt goes through you. He’s said it. It’s like a curtain being pulled, shedding sunlight on something that had been shadowbound until now.

“Doing what?” you say, even though you know. “Leaving us by ourselves? Probably. Ruby likes to fuck with me.”

Chan laughs, and you’re filled with shaky relief that the moment isn’t weird. You both knew what this was, apparently, and facing it has put you on the same team against it.

“I thought it was to fuck with me,” he admits, still smiling.

“Two birds with one stone,” you muse. “For the sake of efficiency.”

But you wonder… why would it be fucking with him if he wasn’t interested in you? Is he admitting something?

“Well,” Chan says, stretching his arms above his head, fingers linked, “by all means, you can do your own thing today. You don’t have to babysit me. But it’s supposed to storm later, so I was thinking I’d use the pool a bit this morning while we still can, and then maybe go into town for lunch.”

You consider this. “That’s very pragmatic of you,” you observe lightly.

“That’s one of the first words I’d pick to describe myself,” he tries to deadpan, but the smile is too quick, telling on himself.

You let him get changed first, and when you make your way out back to the pool he’s already in the water up to his waist. You toss a towel onto one of the chaises.

“How’s the water?” you ask him, as you move to sit on the edge, preparing to let your legs dangle.

“It’s great,” he tells you, smiling easily, like he’s happy - happy you’re here, happy to be here with you.

You wonder if that’s the case, as you slowly lower your legs in, the water coming to lap a few inches below your knees.

“Feels cold,” you tell him. It doesn’t, really - way warmer than the ocean you played in yesterday, but you want to tease him a little.

Suddenly, his hands are on your ankles, holding you firmly. His hands are on your ankles.

“You should get in quickly,” he tells you, trying - again - to pretend to be serious, despite the smile he can’t combat. “Like ripping off a band-aid.”

“Lee Chan,” you warn, but a giggle rises up in you. “Don’t you dare. I will get in when I am good and ready!”

“I’m just trying to help,” he says, pretending to be hurt. His fingers are still pressing against your skin, your brain impossibly aware of the exact spot his thumb presses, as if there’s a beacon illuminating the place.

He gives your legs a playful tug, too lightly to actually move you. You squeal anyway, reaching down to splash water towards him. “Chan!”

He releases your ankles, taking a step back to avoid the splash, laughing. “Be careful,” he warns. “If it’s war you want -” He holds his hand like a knife above the water, ready to retaliate the splash.

“Oh my God, you menace. I’m getting in!” you cry, gripping the lip of the pool and sliding in, staying on your tippy-toes as your body adjusts to the temperature.

“Come on,” he goads, backing away from you, bobbing towards the shallow end. “You have to go under or it doesn’t count.”

“You’re a menace,” you repeat firmly, and he laughs, enjoying that his teasing has worked you up.

You eye the expanse of water between you - you’re at opposite ends of the pool now. “Do you think I could make it across in one go?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow. “Like, underwater? I don’t know - how’s your lung capacity?”

You laugh. “Maybe not good enough,” you admit wryly. “But I’ll try.”

You take a deep breath of salty sea air, only minorly marred by chlorine, and slip down below the surface. You let the bottoms of your feet find the flat cement wall of the pool, and you give a hearty push. It’s hard without being able to see how much farther you have to go, but you hate getting chlorine in your eyes, so you kick and pull blindly until your lungs start to burn. When your natural buoyancy pulls you upward, you don’t fight it.

Your hands find something warm and solid before you surface. Surprise causes you to rear your head, fucking with your balance, and your feet find the floor of the pool. You stand up unsteadily, blinking water out of your eyes.

Chan comes into focus, his expression tight, and you realize that your hands had found his stomach, centimeters above his belly button.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, pulling away.

It’s like ever since last night, you can’t stop touching, your bodies fighting to come together even as you both dig in your heels and try to stop it.

“No worries,” he says just as quickly. You try to cover the moment by wiping water out of your face, but you feel warm all over, the cool water useless against your heated skin as you try to push away how his muscled stomach had felt under your fingertips.

You spend a good hour just floating and splashing around. Sometimes you chat and sometimes you lapse into comfortable silence. At one point you hear him singing lightly under his breath, his voice surprisingly clear but frustratingly quiet.

Eventually, your stomach growls. “I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell him. “You up for lunch in town, maybe? I’d just need to shower super quick first.”

“Sounds great,” he says easily, and you both head for the single runged ladder at the deep end. Chan climbs up first, standing by the ladder, dripping onto the concrete. You grip the metal handles firmly and find the bottom rung with one foot, pushing heavily to hoist yourself up.

And Chan helps you up - his fingers finding the dip of your waist and guiding you until you’re steadily on the pool deck, something protective in the touch.

Your entire body thrums, electric, cells vibrating. You hurry to your towel and wrap yourself up, hiding your face in the material - pretending you’re just chasing droplets away from your eyes, but actually smothering the urge to scream, if you’re going to touch me then get over here and do it properly!

“Did you know there’s a hot tub under the deck? Was that mentioned in the listing?” Chan asks, and you uncover your face.

“Huh?”

He’s pointing, and then you see that he’s right - tucked beneath the deck is a decently-sized jacuzzi, the lid on and straps fastened shut.

“Oh,” you say breathlessly. “Well, I know what I’m doing after dinner.”

Chan laughs, and you head inside, careful not to drip a trail of pool water through the house.

The rest of the morning passes pleasantly and without any touching; you shower and get changed and go on foot into the small beach town. You find a cute open-air cafe and order lunch, the iced coffee absolutely divine under the warm summer sun. The company’s not bad either.

After you’ve paid and left, Chan pauses on the sidewalk and gives you a mischievous smile. “Up for a little adventure?” he asks.

You frown. “What level of adventure?” you ask cautiously. “Like, on a scale of jumping out of a plane being ten to laying on my towel in the sand being one, what are we talking here?”

He laughs. “Like a three,” he assures you. “We just have a bit of a walk - maybe twenty minutes?”

The walk is pleasant - you don’t even get too warm, as there’s a constant breeze off the ocean and clouds pass overhead, pitching you momentarily into shade between longer bouts of sunshine. When you turn a bend and see the lighthouse rise against the sky in the distance, you actually gasp.

“Can we go up?” you ask, delighted.

“That’s the plan,” he tells you, and for once you can read his face perfectly - he’s pleased that he’s surprised you, pleased to have made you happy. Something warm simmers under your skin, affection and happiness and something else.

It takes forever to reach the top. You have to stop and rest more than once, your calves burning and protesting the many stairs. A few families pass you on their way down, one mother telling you cheerfully that you’re almost to the top. This motivates you to continue, and you press on until you reach the final landing and step through the metal doorway.

The view is absolutely worth it. The beach and the ocean stretch out before you, the town in the distance behind you. Alone at the top, you feel like you’re in your own little world, surrounded by sunlight and the calls of gulls, just you and Chan.

You stand, holding the railing, watching the waves undulate far below you for a long time. “Chan,” you say, and then falter. You don’t know what you were going to say. Some part of you thinks maybe you’d been about to confess, or to finally ask him something to shed light on his feelings.

When he looks at you, expectant, you say only, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

And maybe you did confess something, because he reaches over and squeezes your hand, just once.

And then, he looks over your shoulder and utters, “Uh oh.”

You spin, following his gaze, and echo, “Uh oh.”

Dark grey clouds gather to the west. You remember him saying it was supposed to storm later; it looks like rain will be rolling in soon, ushering in the storms behind it.

“We’d better head down,” he says regretfully, and you follow him back inside.

You make it down and outside before the rain comes, but the sunshine of the morning has gone and left gloomy grey in its wake.

“You think we can make it back to the house?” you ask breathlessly.

Chan checks the time on his phone, already walking brisky back towards the direction of town and your rental. “Maybe,” he says, but he sounds doubtful. “We’ve gotta be quick, though.”

You barely even make it into town; you aren’t even back at the cafe where you’d had lunch before the sky opens. It happens exactly like that - one second it’s not raining, the next second you’re drenched, hair plastered to your face, shirt sticking to your back, spluttering breaths through your mouth like you’re being sprayed with a hose.

You let out a cry of surprise, and then Chan is grabbing your hand and tugging, pulling you off of the sidewalk and into a nearby doorway. You don’t even manage to see what the doorway belongs to - Chan is already pulling it open, his hand still in yours as he leads you inside.

It’s dark, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust as you wipe rain away from your eyes and shake droplets off of your arms. Beside you, Chan is doing the same, running a hand through his soaked hair and huffing out a noise of disbelief.

“That,” you say, ��was bonkers.”

You seem to be in a dimly-lit dive bar, the kind that only locals go to. It’s pretty empty, since it’s early afternoon on a weekday, so when Chan raises a soggy, questioning eyebrow at you, you shrug and follow him towards the bar. Why not?

You take a seat wearily, and pull out your phone.

“We’ve got almost an hour until everyone is supposed to be back,” you inform him.

“In that case,” he says, and when the bartender meanders over, he orders you a row of shots to share.

You clink shot glasses for the first one, but after that you turn it into a game.

Chan narrows his eyes at you, mock-thoughtful. “What would you do if you woke up and your hands and feet had switched places?”

After answering (use my toes to order an Uber to the hospital), you volley with, “What would you do if aliens invaded tomorrow?”

Back and forth the game goes, punctuated by shot glasses being emptied and returned to the bar. What would you do if you woke up married in Vegas? … What would you do if you woke up one day and could only speak in rhyme? … What would you do if you were suddenly allergic to your favorite food? … What would you do if you were forced to join the circus?

You’re both laughing deliriously. Chan is wiping under his eyes in mirth, and you’ve hunched over so far that you find yourself with your hands on his knees, using him to stay upright on your barstool. Your surroundings have faded into colors and muted sounds with the alcohol in your system. All you can focus on is Chan, warm and solid under your palms, his eyes on you, the sound of his laugh cutting straight through the fog.

Then his next one isn’t so funny. “What would you do if you found out you only had a day to live?” he asks, and despite the seriousness, one last chuckle rumbles through his chest, like an aftershock.

Tell you. Tell you the truth.

You swallow. You take your hands off of his knees - you’re not sure he even noticed them there - and flex your fingers. And then, filter demolished by both alcohol and the sheer amount of time it’s been keeping you in check, you break.

Instead of answering, you fire back your own. “What would you do if I came onto you right now?”

Chan blinks at you, eyes as wide as you’ve ever seen them. He blinks twice more, and then his mouth opens. Your heart pounds.

“I’d - I - I guess, I’d probably kiss you,” he says, voice suddenly hushed, as if he’s a little unsure if he’s supposed to be honest or if the game is still a string of jokes.

You stare back. The two of you are frozen, both a bit wide-eyed, like neither of you is sure how you ended up like this.

Then, you breathe, “Okay, then do it.”

He nods immediately, breath coming sharply, and shifts closer on his seat. You feel like you’re holding your breath, waiting. Tentatively, he reaches up, brushes your jaw with his thumb.

Beside you, your phone blares to life on the bar. You both jump, startled out of the moment.

“Ruby,” you tell him hollowly. His hand still hovers near your face, but he nods, pulling it away. You feel like you can barely breathe as you slide your thumb to take the call.

“Hey,” you say into the phone, your eyes on Chan.

“Hey,” Ruby says, “where are you guys? Our thing ended early because of the rain so we’re back at the house.”

“Oh,” you say, trying hard to focus on her voice in her ear and not what just almost happened. “We’re in town. At… a bar? We came in to get out of the rain.”

“Perfect,” Ruby says. Across from you, Chan is rubbing his hands down the tops of his thighs, like they’re sweaty. You wonder if he’s nervous. “We’ll get changed and come get you guys in the car, and then we can go grab dinner together.”

You agree and hang up, then repeat the plan to Chan, who nods. He looks how you feel - a bit shell-shocked, a bit uncertain.

“We need to sober up,” you say. “Or, at least, I do.”

“No, me too,” he says, shaking his head. He sighs, and he might as well have said, goddamn Ruby. You hear it all. Then he seems to give himself a shake, orders you each a water, and asks to close his tab.

“They’re just up the street,” you tell him when Ruby’s text rolls in a bit later.

He nods, uncharacteristically quiet. You wish you could peek inside his brain and see what’s going on in there.

“Hey,” you say, and his eyes snap to you, that open look you know so well on his face. Your voice softens, and you resist the urge to reach out and touch his hand when you continue. “Here’s what I don’t want to happen - I don’t want Ruby to sniff out that something’s going on and interrogate me before we can… talk, ourselves. So let’s pull it together, and get through dinner, and then we can…”

We can what? Pick up where we left off?

He nods anyway, even though you’d left the thought unfinished. “You’re right,” he says.

And, somehow, you do. You both pull it together, rush through the pouring rain from the bar to the open car door. You smile and tease and laugh through dinner, like nothing had happened at all.

You feel relieved, in the back of Ruby’s car, as you all make your way back to the house. You did it - you got through dinner unscathed. Now you can go inside, and have some privacy, and talk and maybe figure out -

“Did you guys know the rental has a hot tub?” Chan asks, and you turn to look at him, baffled.

“It has a what?” Ruby gasps.

“Yep,” he says cheerfully, like he hasn’t just shattered your dream of getting a moment to yourselves. “It’s under the deck. Which means - hey! - it’s covered! We could totally go in, we wouldn’t even be in the rain.”

“That sounds great, actually,” Lara muses.

You say nothing, but when he catches you looking sideways at him, Chan sends you a wink, quick as lightning. You feel your face go puzzled, and he smiles and looks away, giving you no answers.

You’re somehow the first one to get changed and outside; it’s still pouring rain and you cover your head with your towel as you make your way down the steps and under the deck where some drips make it through, but you’re mostly out of the rain. A quick sweep of the area with your phone’s flashlight shows that there’s a string of the same lights down here as above on the deck, and you hurry to plug them in. Now that you can see, it’s actually kind of cute under here.

You unsnap the first strap for the lid, and jump when a pair of hands reaches next to you for the second one. You hadn’t heard Chan approach, but you silently accept his help as you push the lid up and off. You watch him out of the corners of your eyes to see if he’s going to say anything, address it at all. When it seems like he’s not, you turn to climb up the little set of steps, resigned.

His hand closes around your wrist, stilling you. He gives the tiniest of tugs and you relent, turning around. He gives you another tiny tug - you could resist if you wanted to, but you don’t, you don’t, you don’t. You let the tug pull you closer and look up at him, waiting. He kisses you quickly, firmly, close-mouthed for now but sure, his hands forming loose loops around each of your wrists as if he might want to tug you into place again.

The sliding glass door above you slides open and you step away, heart racing.

“Later,” he says quietly, and then you don’t get another second alone, Mingyu and Soonyoung’s voices bouncing through the space as they clamber down the deck stairs.

You climb into the warm water and choose a spot. Chan follows and sits a few solid feet away from you. You try not to look guilty when the other guys round the corner.

“Brought you a beer,” Mingyu says, reaching the extra can towards you.

“You are a legend,” you tell him gratefully.

Chan frowns, and for a crazed second you think maybe he’s jealous that Mingyu did something nice for you, but then he whines, “You didn’t bring me one? Hyung.”

“Calm your ass down,” Mingyu says, climbing into the water and finding a seat. You’re instantly more crowded, just from the sheer amount of space his long legs take up. “Soonyoung has yours.”

You snicker a little, and Chan gives you a light kick under the water. Above you, you hear the door slide open again, and a minute later Ruby and Lara appear beneath the deck, sheltered from the rain by Ruby’s towel.

“Oh,” Ruby says, surprised. “It’s not bad under here!”

“It’s cute, right?” you agree. “Still getting a few raindrops, though.”

“Eh, we’re in water anyway,” Soonyoung says easily, reaching up a hand to help steady Lara as she climbs in.

It’s crowded, and Chan’s two-feet-away doesn’t last. Instead, you’re crowded together, just inches apart. Ruby leans over the edge and turns on the jets, the top of the water creating a frothy layer.

“This is nice,” Lara says happily, closing her eyes and leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“It is,” you murmur, sipping at your beer. Under the cover of the jets’ bubbles, something touches your hand. Someone’s hand touches your hand. Chan’s hand touches your hand.

Your heart lurches. You beg your face to behave and give nothing away. And ever so slowly, you turn your hand over.

He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes on Soonyoung, who’s telling a story animatedly on the other side of the jacuzzi. But his fingers lace between yours, and his thumb brushes along the back of your hand, slow and tantalizing.

You’ve never been so undone by hand holding in your life.

You try to breathe. You sip casually at your beer and interject into the conversation when you can. You laugh at the jokes and look at whoever is speaking. You have no idea what the conversation is about. You hold onto Chan’s slender fingers like he’s a lifeline, like if you let go he’ll slip away, again and for good.

Later, he’d said, and his voice echoes in your head as you pray for later to be now. And finally, blessedly, Lara finally yawns, loud, and starts making moves to get out and head in. Which means so does Soonyoung. Then Mingyu lifts a hand from the water and examines his fingers, complaining, “I’m all pruny.” Chan gives your hand a squeeze and lets you go, reaching for his beer nonchalantly, watching Ruby and Mingyu carefully. You know you’re both waiting, impatiently, for them to leave you alone.

Leave, you silently beg, still trying to appear as casual as possible. Leaaaaave.

“You staying a little?” Ruby asks you, pausing halfway out of the hot tub.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to force your voice to stay casual. “I slept pretty late this morning - I’m not really tired yet.”

“Not all of us got up for sunrise yoga,” Chan says dryly, and Mingyu laughs, reaching for Ruby’s hand, clearly wanting to get inside.

“Okay, then,” Ruby says, her eyes still on you. “See you in the morning then.”

“Bye,” you tell her, and you have to fight the giggle out of your voice. You can’t help it - you feel giddy, nearly bouncing with excitement. You and Chan have been skirting the brink of something all day and you’re finally standing on the cusp of it, toes curled over the edge, ready to dive.

The second you hear the sliding door above you close, Chan’s hand is on your wrist again, pulling much more insistently than he had earlier in the day. Surprised, you let him tug you onto his lap, settling with your thighs bracketing his own, his hands wasting no time in finding your hips and pulling you more firmly against him.

His mouth is on yours, as insistent as his touch. You answer him readily, nearly sighing into his mouth as you get something you’ve wanted for years. You skate your hands up his chest and bring your arms around the back of his neck. He tips his head back a little, his hands sliding up your back, and the change in angle makes you sigh again.

“Thought they’d never leave,” he mutters against your jaw, and you let out a quick huff of a laugh before your breath leaves you entirely as his teeth nip a line down your neck, tongue and lips soothing behind each quick sting.

You chase his mouth, wanting him back, and he groans quietly when he realizes - like you wanting to continue kissing is just as good as actually kissing. But nothing is as good as the kissing, not if anyone asks you, nothing is as good as his tongue against yours, his teeth gentle on your lips, his hands clutching at your back and your arms and your hips like he can’t pick a favorite.

His hands roaming your body ignite you. You become only aware of their migration as they map the width of your shoulders, survey the dip of your waist, skate over your ass, then repeat the expedition. Your fingers have found his hair, curled up and held tight. He takes your hips in his hands and shifts you on his lap, causing you to tug slightly, and his exhale holds just the slightest hint of a whimper. You almost unravel, right there.

The shifted position also makes it absolutely unignorable that Chan is hard beneath you, and you can’t - don’t even try to - stop yourself from pressing yourself closer, your hips rolling almost involuntarily as soon as you feel him. Chan gasps at the sudden friction, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he’s already going under. Then his hands - frozen on your hips while his brain rebooted - come back to life, slipping up your ribs to cup both of your breasts over your bathing suit, giving one slow knead to both in tandem. You moan, low, unable to stop it, and he responds almost instantly, letting out an audibly shuddering breath.

He surges upwards to kiss you again, one thumb still rubbing circles against your hardening nipple, the other hand trailing back down your side and gripping your waist, holding you in place. You continue to move against him, his mouth hot against yours, the water bubbling around you and surrounding you in mist.

Chan’s nimble fingers leave your chest and work their way down between your bodies, pausing at the edge of your bathing suit bottoms. He looks up at you, pupils blown, panting out controlled little breaths like he’s fighting to keep himself in check.

Eyes unwavering on yours, watching your reactions closely, he slips his fingers between your legs, pressing the material against you, sliding down your slit and back deftly. His cock kicks beneath you when you whine. His gaze on you feels charged, almost like a challenge.

And then you’re blinded by a flash, followed almost instantly by an alarming crack of thunder.

“Fuck,” Chan hisses, twisting to peer out towards the ocean, his hands finding your hips again as if by instinct. “The storm.”

“Guess we have to head in,” you say, and it comes out wispy and breathless. Your legs feel like jelly and he’s barely even started.

“Yeah,” he says, the single syllable tight. He adjusts himself as you vacate the water, the rain beyond the safety of the deck seeming to redouble its efforts. You both hurry to turn the jets off and replace the cover, then stand at the edge of the dry space, looking out at the raging rain.

As hot and heavy as things were only a minute ago, you feel oddly still now, staring out at the storm. Chan places your towel over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, looking sideways at him.

“Ready?” he asks you, and you think he means ready to brave the storm. But your heart is answering another question - are you ready to continue, ready to move forward with him, ready to give life to something that has remained only a daydream in your mind?

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.

He slips his hand into yours. “I’ve got you,” he promises.

You move quickly but carefully through the rain, eyes on your feet as you take the slippery wooden stairs up the deck and towards the house. Chan doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re inside, sliding the door shut behind you. The house is dark and quiet, lit only by a single light above the kitchen sink. You both stand near the door and try to dry off, but your towels got soaked by the rain and don’t do much good.

“Come on,” Chan whispers. “There are fresh towels upstairs.”

You follow him through the house, up the stairs and down the darkened hallway. Chan pauses at the linen closet, pulling out two fluffy towels. You lead him into your shared room, closing and locking the door behind you as he clicks on one of the lamps.

Chan comes back into your space quietly, wraps you both in his towel, the spare forgotten on top of your dresser. You’re pressed tight together, warm in his arms. He presses his lips to the top of your head, leaving them resting there, just holding you. The moment is soft, heavy, a stark contrast to the lightning physicality of what happened outside. Something about the intimacy of it makes you feel hesitant.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling away a little to look at you.

“Yeah,” you breathe back. Your heart is racing. But it’s Chan. It’s Chan with his arms around you, and Chan who was kissing you and touching you, and - it all feels like something you aren’t allowed to have. “Just… maybe we shouldn’t?”

“We don’t have to,” he says immediately, shifting backwards and loosening his arms around you, giving you the option of pulling away if you want it. “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with. If you want to just go to bed… or if you want me to take the couch tonight, I can -”

“No,” you say quickly, because that’s the opposite of what you want. “No, it’s just… Chan…”

He seems to hear your uncertainty in your voice, his face softening and his arms pulling you back in. “What is it?” he asks quietly, and you slip your arms around his middle, giving in.

“I think I want this a lot more than you do,” you whisper, glad you don’t have to look at him while you say it.

He laughs, and you step back, looking at him quizzically. You’d been afraid of his reaction - of making him uncomfortable, of pushing the line too far. You hadn’t expected laughter.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he tells you, and you just stare at him, not comprehending. He reaches up, fingers still clutching a corner of the towel wrapped loosely around his back, and brushes a thumb along your jaw. You feel your face warm, but you wait him out. He adds, “I want this… a ridiculous amount. I’ve wondered for a long time if we could… be more.”

He says it like a confession. He says it like he’s embarrassed about it.

“Well,” you say, a fire - a hope - coming back to life behind your ribcage, “maybe we should find out.”

And there it is, that smile that makes the whole world melt away.

The towel drops to the floor, forgotten, and his fingers are at the back of your neck, tugging on the knot that ties your bathing suit top in place. When the material falls away he makes a satisfied noise in his throat as he moves to kiss you again, walking you back towards the bed.

You’d both been eager, but when the mattress hits the backs of your thighs Chan lays you back slowly, almost reverently. He kisses you sweetly, tracing your jaw again, and then lets out another little laugh.

“What?” you breathe, smiling despite being clueless. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing. It’s not,” he says, but he’s still smiling, eyes tracing over your face and body. “It’s just… hard to believe this is real. That it’s you.”

Your breath leaves you. It’s exactly how you’ve felt.

“I know what you mean,” you whisper, and you kiss him again. This time he doesn’t hesitate when his hand slips between your legs, brushing right past your bathing suit and pushing the pads of his fingers into the wet mess he finds there. You shudder an exhale into his waiting mouth as he presses one finger and then a second deep into you, his eyes on you as you arch into the touch.

You let your eyes drift close as he pumps them slowly, and outside the room there’s another flash of lightning chased by the crack of thunder. For a little, there’s only the sound of rain beating against the windows as Chan works little whimpers and half moans out of you.

He switches his angle, something snagging behind your navel, everything beginning to tighten. You gasp his name, and you’re answered by his too-familiar huff of a laugh again.

“What?” you demand through your own smile.

“You say my name like that again and I’m gonna bust,” he tells you seriously. Then he brings his attention back to where his fingers disappear inside you, and his gaze sharpens. “These are in my way,” he murmurs, pulling out of you and reaching for your bathing suit, which had been pushed to the side.

“Yours too, then,” you object playfully, lifting your hips for him as he slides the damp material down your legs. He smiles at you indulgently and shuffles backwards on the back, standing long enough to tug at his swim trunks, letting them drop unceremoniously before crawling back up to you, pressing his mouth to yours and cupping your jaw with one hand, like he’d missed you in the seconds he’d been gone.

“Chan,” you whisper, because you need more of him, because this isn’t enough.

He slides lower down your body, his chest brushing against yours, his lips mapping a path down your sternum, down your belly, pausing near your navel. He looks up at you, all glinty-eyed, that million-dollar smile going slightly sideways, a little mischievous.

“Can I? Please say yes,” he says in a rush, pushing his nose into your lower belly and caressing your inner thighs with his thumbs.

You lean up on your elbows so you can look at him better. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing for a minute. He’s going to give you a cardiac event. “If you want to,” you tell him.

He laughs again, so quiet. “You have no idea,” he says, shaking his head, and then he’s attaching his mouth to you and your arms give out. You eye the ceiling, a strangled moan working up your throat as Chan’s tongue delves into your heat. You squirm, trying to push him deeper. He loops his arms under your legs and then reaches over, his hands pulling you tighter against his chin, both of you working to the same goal.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time imagining how Chan might eat pussy, but you’re surprised that he dives right into fucking you on his tongue, determined and rhythmic. You’d have pegged him for the type to go slow, draw it out, tease and taste and work you up little by little. Instead he grunts in satisfaction, pulls on you hard enough that you wonder if he’ll leave little bruises from his fingertips, and spears his tongue in and out of your hole with abandon, his nose bumping your clit every few thrusts.

You’re a whimpering mess, fighting the urge to roll your hips into his face, one hand slapped over your face to muffle the sound. He shifts, lips working their way up to your desperately pulsating clit, and you feel your whole body seize with the change of sensation, a long, low groan emanating from your chest. He suctions his lips around your clit and sucks gently, then a little less gently, and your feet scrabble against the sheets, trying to find purchase.

His fingers enter you again, his spit and your wetness giving them the perfect slide, and it’s exactly the extra stimulation you need. He only has to pump his wrist twice, that delicious suction steady around your clit, before you’re grasping desperately at him - one hand sliding into his hair and the other finding his wrist and holding tight, which doesn’t stop him at all from pistoning his fingers into that spot on your front wall that has you unraveling faster than you ever have before.

“Fuck, fuck, Chan -” you gasp. Your eyes squeeze shut and your grip on him might actually be painful, a belly-deep ahhhhh ripped from you as the onslaught of sensation sends conscious thought spinning away.

“Shhh,” he soothes, fingers slowly but continuing to work you through it. You whimper, gasp for a breath, the room coming back into view. “Not so loud, baby.”

“God, Chan,” you groan, releasing your hold on him, flexing your fingers.

He grins at you, lightning quick, then kisses the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl.”

You peer at him, boneless. “You up for more?”

He pushes himself up on his elbows, the triumph not completely melted from his face yet. “I’m up for whatever you want,” he promises. “You’re calling the shots here.”

“Excellent,” you joke. You reach towards him, barely stop yourself from making grabby hands. “Come fuck me.”

He damn near scrambles to obey. He comes up to kiss you, deep and heady, and you hook one of your legs behind him, pulling him closer. The head of his cock slides along your slit and you tilt, trying to get him where you want him.

You look up at him, feeling like he hung the stars, and whisper his name. His answer is a bite of a kiss as he pushes himself into you, stopping only when his hips are flush with yours.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he breathes, eyes closed for a second, as he holds himself over you.

“Please move,” you beg, needing more.

“God,” he groans. “Okay. Okay. I got you.”

And he does. Chan fucks like he moves - quick and precise, each motion purposeful. His eyes have narrowed with focus, brows slightly furrowed with exertion as his hips snap. He slides one hand under you to help lift you, the angle changing just slightly.

“Yeah,” you breathe, desperation lacing your voice. “There.”

The drag of him is delicious, and so is the feeling of his body under your hands, and so is the sound of his ragged breath mixed with occasional gasps and groans. It’s the fact that it’s Chan driving you even higher.

A crack of thunder sounds directly overhead, and Chan takes the moment to roll you over, laying back and letting you straddle his lap without even slipping from inside you. You whine as the new position drives him deeper than he’d been before, your hands splayed over his pecs. He’s breathing rapidly now, struggling to keep his eyes open as he continues to fuck you from below.

“I-I’m - so -” he pants, “close. Really close, baby.”

You lean down to kiss him, his arms coming up around your shoulders to pull you chest to chest until his strokes grow sloppy and his hands tighten on you. You kiss along his jaw sweetly until he releases you with a sigh. He kisses you once more before he pulls out, and then again when he returns from the bathroom with a damp cloth.

“I might need to actually shower,” you muse.

“Yeah, okay,” he says easily, nodding. “Maybe I’ll go after you. I smell like chlorine.”

You shrug. “Might as well just join me. If you want.”

He grins. He follows you into the bathroom, waits with you while the water heats up. And then he fucks you again, against the cool tiles of the shower wall.

Later, back in bed, you face each other through the dark.

“I should have said earlier,” you whisper. “But I’ve liked you for a long time, too.”

His smile makes you feel full of sunshine, even when it’s shy, even when he’s asking what you want to do about it. Especially when he’s asking you, "What are you doing next Saturday?"

Tonight, the decision to cuddle is made while you’re awake. When you wake up in the morning, sunlight streaming through the windows, Chan wastes no time in reaching between your legs, finding you ready, and rolling over top of you, pushing between your thighs before he even has his eyes all the way open.

When you both emerge from your bedroom, stomachs growling and with the beginnings of a caffeine headache, your friends are all sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded with the evidence of a breakfast come and gone. They begin a slow clap, eventually lauding you in a mostly sarcastic but still loving round of applause.

“It’s about time,” Mingyu grouses. “You two have been circling each other forever.”

“Shh,” you tell him, as Chan slips his arm over your shoulders with a grin. “Not so loud.”

thank you for reading!!! <3

1K notes · View notes

cheolaholic · 22 days ago

Text

amourous; lc

summary; You’ve worked hard to escape the shadows of a painful past. But what happens when it resurfaces, threatening the image you tried to build – and the bond you’d built with someone who wasn’t supposed to see the real you?

hybrid au • university au • modern au • fluff, smut, angst

pairing; lee chan x fem! reader | wc; 14.2k | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw

contains; wolf hybrid! chan, human(?) reader, performance unit focused, wolf hybrid! hoshi, wolf hybrid! minghao, human! jun, jun has a wolf gf in this fic, possessive chan, performance unit performs in public, hoshi is kinda ooc (bro is a bit too calm/cool than usual + a bit mean), halloween party organised by SVT

mature/trigger warnings; anxiety/panic attack, mentions of cheating, mentions of bullying, trauma resurfacing, discussion of hybrid stigmas, discrimination/prejudice, the group has a fight at some point (but they do make up), mentions of hazing, dom! chan, sub! reader, scenting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, doggy-style, tail-play (?), praise kink from both parties

petnames; his (Channie, Wolfie), hers (Baby, Foxy, Pretty Fox)

a/n; hope yall enjoy this fluff and lighter themed fic after the semi dark themes in bty lmao 🥴 i'm really sorry that there was no teaser/trailer and that this fic was overdue – work was hammering me and i was lowkey just tryna survive and catch up on sleep (sis was running on a min of 3-4 hrs of sleep rip) also, ik this is like kinda in the theme of halloween, but i can’t wait five months to post this solely bcs it’s been in the backlogs for at least two years lmao (the idea manifested the same time as ROL)

✨ support me by becoming a patreon (enjoy exclusive perks & content) OR tip me on kofi !! 💜 if you are unable to do so, you can also show support by reblogging your favourite works of mine !!

Your peers considered you to be a reserved person, quiet and usually kept to yourself. You were quite, for lack of a better word - picky, with your social circle. Not to mention, you were always on high alert with your surroundings, especially if you were in a new environment.

Walking through the hallway of Pledis Private High, your new high school had your anxiety peaking. You held your tears back as you timidly but hurriedly made your way to your classroom. You took a seat at the back of the class, close to the backdoor as you could just exit immediately without any trouble.

“Before we start, we do have a new student who has joined us for the school year!” the teacher announced, gesturing towards you. You felt your heart in your throat as all eyes fell on you while you stood up, feeling the room closing in on you. “Could you introduce yourself, dear?”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself, “___, my name is Choi ___.”

When the lunch bell rang, you snuck out through the back door and towards the cafeteria. Sitting at an empty table near a corner, you quietly enjoyed your lunch until a trio approached you, peaking your anxiety as you looked up from your food to look at them.

Two boys - one blonde, one dark haired; and a girl with orange hair.

The girl reached out her hand, a vibrant smile on her face. “Hi, ___, right?” she reached out her hand, “I’m Yejin, Kang Yejin. The blonde haired is Junhui, while the dark haired boy is Chan.” When you turned your focus to the boys, Junhui gave you a small smile while Chan gave you a nod.

“We’re friends of Chan, but we’re a grade above.” Junhui said, “Chan mentioned you’re new to the school, he’s your deskmate.” Your eyes darted to Chan who had a small blush on his face as he sheepishly rubbed his nape, “You didn’t notice me taking a seat next to you earlier… And… before I could try and talk to you, you were already out of the classroom…”

“Chan’s a little shy, but he’s a sweetheart,” Yejin stated as she popped a grape into her mouth, “You’re in safe hands with him around.”

You spent the rest of your lunch break with the trio, quietly observing them. You’ve learnt that Junhui and Yejin are dating, Chan is a dancer and seemingly has a personality that’s similar to yours - at least that’s what you’ve gotten from the 20 minutes of interaction with them. As the bell rang and you were about to head back to class with Chan, Yejin called out to you.

“Out of curiosity, what kind of hybrid are you?”

Junhui nudged his girlfriend, shooting her a disapproving look. “What? You can’t tell me you aren’t curious!”

“Yejin, you just met her!” he hissed, “You shouldn’t be asking these questions!”

Before the bickering could continue, you rushed out your answer, “Human.” As the trio shifted their focus onto you once again, you took a steadying breath and repeated yourself.

“I’m a human.”

Three years since that day, you’ve seamlessly integrated into the trio, now a quartet.

You even find yourself attending the same university as them. When Yejin and Junhui graduated, you vaguely remember Chan mentioning Junhui had gone back to ShenZhen for a year to see his family and did his Foundation Studies there while Yejin did hers in Attacca University.

Once you and Chan had graduated high school, you both enrolled into Attacca University for your Foundation Studies of your respective courses - you pursuing Language Studies while Chan pursued Sociology. You were glad to be enrolled into a university with the trio, at least there were familiar faces - easing your anxiety.

“.....hear me? ___!”

Snapping out of your trance-like state, you looked up to see Yejin and her boyfriend, Junhui, standing in front of you with worried looks.

Letting out a confused ‘huh?’, you watch how Yejin’s eyebrows furrowed. “I've been trying to get your attention for the past ten minutes, ___. Are you okay? Did something happen before we got here?”

You shook your head, giving her an assuring smile as she sat next to you. Junhui quietly took a seat across from both of you, texting away on his phone as his girl continued to question you.

“Are you sure? You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“I promise, I’m fine, Yejin.”

While still unconvinced, she stops her questioning and redirects it towards her boyfriend. Junhui had flown back to Korea to resume his degree in Business; coincidentally ending up in the same course with Yejin. Chan had pointed out how the couple were attached to the hip and were so inseparable that even the universe decided to put them in the same university, in the same study course.

Though, you do admit – Yejin and Junhui were essentially textbook couple goals.

“Who’re you texting, Junnie?”

“Chan.” he answered, “Just asking if he’s finished with his class and if he’ll be joining us for lunch.”

“Is he coming?” you asked curiously, the couple looking at you as a knowing smile spread on their lips. A blush formed on your cheeks as you tried to avoid making eye contact, attempting to stutter out a response but failing. Within the years of friendship you had with the trio, you had somehow developed a small (read: massive) crush on Chan. Though you had managed to keep in under wraps from the majority of your peers, had they been as observant as Yejin, they would’ve noticed the subtle signs.

In fact, it had been Yejin who got you to realise your feelings for the wolf hybrid. She noticed the faint blush that would dust your cheeks when Chan would get too close or help you with a task, how only Chan was allowed to refer to you by a certain nickname (which has led to you only responding to him when he calls you said nickname), the extra decorations on his pastries when you’d bake for them - she noticed it all. When she had initially brought up the topic, you heavily denied it.

“I don’t see Chan that way, I swear!” you exclaimed, “It’s just- I just-”

Yejin placed both hands on your shoulders, attempting to calm you down. “___, dear, please take a deep breath. I’m not saying it’s a fact, okay? I’m just… suggesting that you might, based on what I’ve noticed.”

Junhui approached with a cardboard cup holder tray, passing you a drink as he sat next to you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to believe it. Maybe you haven’t fully processed everything yet, but from what Yejin’s told me, I think there may be a chance you fancy Chan.” You whined, burying your face in your hands as your face burnt bright red from embarrassment.

“At the end of the day, it’s your feelings and I’m just making a hypothesis based on my observation.”

“And if you set aside the whole… rut and aggression stigma, Chan’s a gentleman and always looks out for those he cares for. You’re no exception, too.”

Junhui gives you a teasing smile and before he could reply, Chan was standing at the end of the table with two other male students. “Hi, gang!” he greeted in an excited tone, gesturing to the two, “Meet Soonyoung and Minghao! They’re friends I made from the dance club, and we’re actually coursemates! Can you believe that?”

You watch how Yejin’s nose twitched slightly at Soonyoung and Minghao’s presence, “Are you both wolves?”

“Yejin!”

“They smell like wolves!”

The table watches as Junhui’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as he asks, “They smell like wolves?” Yejin later explained how each hybrid has a distinctive smell, making it easy to identify the different species of hybrids. “So… let’s say there are two different cat hybrids in the room,” Junhui hypothesised, “One’s a Siamese, the other is a Maine Coon, can you tell the difference?”

“Okay, I don’t know about differentiating two breeds of the same animals,” Yejin replied, “but, if you put a human and a wolf, two wolves and a cat, or even just two humans in a room, any hybrid would be able to tell.”

“Not all hybrids.” Minghao chimed in, “While any hybrids can differentiate the smell of a human and a hybrid, only some can differentiate the smell of two hybrids of the same breed.”

Chan felt the seat he was sitting on slightly shake. When he looked down, he noticed your leg bouncing – something he’s come to realise was what you’d often do when you’re feeling anxious. Placing a hand on your thigh, he watches as you tensed up, your head turned towards him with a panicked look.

“You okay, ___?” he asks, the group focusing their attention onto you. “I-I’m fine,” you forced out, “Just… Just feeling a little stuffed. I’m gonna go and get some fresh air.”

“I’ll come with you.” Yejin offered, getting up from her seat and you rushed out a quick “No!”, startling her.

“I… I just want to be on my own for now… I’ll… I’ll see you all at the end of the school day, okay?” Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you got out of the cafeteria as quickly as you could, feeling even more uneasy when you could feel eyes following you.

“Did we… did we scare her…?” Minghao asked, looking at Chan who shrugged. “I hope not,” Yejin said, “I still remember the first time the three of us met and talked to her. Poor girl looked like she was about to cry.”

“She is a human, right?” Soonyoung asked, turning to the female wolf. When Yejin nods, the blonde haired wolf asks again, “But, she has an odd scent… I don’t think I’ve met any humans that smell like that.”

“Well, ___ hangs out with the three of us a lot. And since Chan and I are wolves, alongside the other students she could have to interact with throughout the day, maybe the scent got mixed up.”

Soonyoung considers Yejin’s explanation for a moment before nodding his head, accepting it. However, there’s a voice in his head that’s nagging at him – telling him the human who had just left isn’t who she presents herself to be.

Over the next few months, the boys had gotten closer thanks to their shared passion for dancing.

Junhui’s dance style was more towards contempt, similar to Minghao but you could see some elements of b-boying, which when asked out of curiosity, he confirmed that he indeed has a background in b-boy. On the other hand, Soonyoung and Chan shared a similar dance style of hip-hop and urban.

You’ve never seen them perform, possibly because they are yet to perform as a group of four. Junhui and Minghao were the first to perform – signing up for the Attacca’s International Cultural Night, and their performance had blown everyone away. With the help of Jihoon, one of Junhui’s classmates, the trio had successfully produced a song titled ‘My I’. And after a week of brainstorming, the duo had managed to self-choreo a contemporary style dance for the song.

You remember witnessing the performance for the very first time.

A day prior to said Cultural Night, the duo had practically begged your group to attend the event and support their performance.

“So, you’ve been stealing my boyfriend for a performance and not even bothering to tell us until the very last minute?” Yejin asked, arms crossed as she’s sat on the couch of hers and Junhui’s shared apartment. To outsiders, they might think she’s mad but to the group, at least except Junhui and Minghao at the moment, she’s just teasing.

“Baby, please, I’m so sorry for hiding this from you,” Junhui pleaded, kneeling in front of his girlfriend and looking up at her with puppy eyes. “We wanted to tell you all a few days ago but Minghao had a test, I had a big presentation – and it just slipped our mind!”

You can’t help but giggle at the memory.

“Thought of something funny?” Chan asks, taking a seat next to you on the picnic mat Yejin and Soonyoung managed to secure that was provided by the event (it was also a front row seat to the stage, a better view to spectate the duo). A faint blush paints across your cheeks as you answered, “Just remembering how they told us they’d be performing.”

The wolf chuckles as he recalls the memory, “Yea, I’ve never seen Junhui and Minghao hyung look that scared.”

“Have you ever thought of performing on stage?”

Chan looked taken aback by your question, as if he wasn’t expecting you to have any interest in his hobbies since not many people have asked him anything about his own life. “Well… I had performed in the past – middle school, before you joined Pledis. Every school event, Junhui hyung and I would always perform and everyone called us ‘The Dance Bros’ back then. We kind of went on a hiatus of some sorts when Junhui hyung started high school and wanted to focus more on his studies.” “Did you continue performing?‘

“I may like the solo spotlight, but I still prefer having company if I were to go on stage. When hyung said he wanted to focus more on his studies, I decided to do the same.”

“Some people don’t take Chan seriously with his studies because of his passion for dance.” Yejin chimed in, “Sometimes, they even tell him dancing doesn’t really secure him a future. But, our little wolf boy never let that stop him from occasionally picking up dance gigs.”

“Dance gigs?” Soonyoung, who has been quiet all this while, finally speaks up upon hearing the revelation. You were equally curious, looking at Chan expectantly.

There was a sheepish smile on Chan’s face, “Well… the gigs were just me as a backup dancer, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

Soonyoung leaned in, causing Yejin to lean back a little as she’s sat in between them, his curiosity piqued. “Tell me more about these dance gigs.”

“Guys!” Chan exclaims as he runs up the stairs of Attacca’s football field. “Guys!”

Minghao wanted some peace and quiet; coincidentally, you also needed some peace after the morning you had. Your lecturer had decided to have some kind of Pre-Halloween celebration (it was the middle of September) and after an entire morning of loud noises, you’ve had enough.

So, when Minghao suggested the group just relax and eat lunch at the bleachers of the football field, you gladly took his side.

As Chan ran up the bleachers, Junhui can’t help but chuckle. “He gets any more excited and his tails and ears are gonna pop out.”

“That’s happened before?” Minghao asks.

“According to him, not as often as it did in primary school,” you replied, “He’s managed to get in under control, but tell him exciting news or something extremely good happens, out poofs his ears and tail.”

“Should’ve seen him when he found out you were accepted into Attacca,” Yejin teases, nudging your sides, “I have never seen his tail wag so… violently? Happily? Whatever the term is, his tail was wagging and he was happy.”

“Happy is an understatement,” Junhui adds, “He was over the moon.”

You blush, patting your cheeks in an effort to get rid of the redness as Chan reaches the row you were all sat in. “What’s up, Channie?”

The wolf pants, “Seungcheol wants us to join the SVT Frat and we got a busking offer!”

A moment of silence.

“I’m sorry, but could you repeat that?” Minghao asks, “You said it in one breath and so quick that I only heard Seungcheol’s name.”

You guide Chan to take a seat on the row in front of the group, letting him catch his breath. You hand him your water bottle which he happily accepts, taking a large gulp and wiping his mouth. “Seungcheol wants us to join his frat,” he says after catching his breath, his voice still slightly strained. He hands the water bottle back to you with a sheepish grin.

“Seungcheol? The president of the SVT Frat House?” Minghao recalls.

You’re not one to join a fraternity or sorority so your first question was, “What is that and what does SVT stand for?”

Junhui shrugs, “I think you know what frat houses are. Think sorority sisters but for guys where depending on the guy in charge, they’re either cool guys or… drunkards and druggies. SVT is more on the cool guys spectrum, think big seasonal parties or smaller pool parties.”

“As for what they stand for, according to what’s being said, it’s apparently Sigma Vitae Triumphalis. A Latin-inspired phrase for Sum of Life and Triumph.”

Yejin raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in her seat. “Since when do they recruit mid-semester?”

Chan shrugs, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “Beats me. But he said Jihoon recommended us and something about needing more members, how he’s been keeping tabs on us for the past… two months? Plus, you know how popular their parties are. It might not be the worst idea to check it out.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Are you considering it?”

He hesitates, keeping his gaze on you. “I mean, I don’t know… It’s not every day we get offered into a frat house like SVT. Could be a good opportunity, right? Connections, parties, networking…”

“Correction, you boys get offered into a frat house like SVT,” Yejin snorts, “I’m not into the whole sorority sisters thing and ___ there has social anxiety. We avoid that shit like the plague.”

“There… There won’t be any kind of hazing, right? I heard that frats from NeoCity University…”

“Oh yeah, I know what you’re talking about,” Soonyoung joins in, grimacing at the memory, “The 20XX NEOCITIZEN Hazing Incident.”

You wince at the mention of that incident. While you weren’t apart or knew anyone that were involved, you would consider yourself an empathetic person to some degree. The frat house that was involved weren’t disclosed, but a quick mention of the victims and what they’ve endured were quick to reveal it was the ANOM House.

Two humans suffered from alcohol poisoning, having digested a concoction that police suspected to have at least ten different types of alcohol; and a cat hybrid was forced into a ‘Mountain Dew Baptism’ as his pledge.

The worst part was when investigators announced that the frat seniors had multiple chat rooms where they would upload photos of the newcomers blindfolded and completely nude.

A shiver goes down your spine as you recall the news, deciding to push it back down before unwanted images or your imaginations think of something similar happening to your friends.

Minghao was the one who tried to ease everyone’s minds, “They don’t do or condone hazing, at least that’s what I’ve heard from Jihoon. They’re pretty selective of who they let in, usually depending on connections and like Chan said, recommendations and some tab keeping.”

He goes on about how the boys in SVT were good people to some degree, saying how one guy named Jeonghan may look sweet and is like an Angel; but he sure as hell knew how to cheat when it comes to playing games. “Wonwoo and Mingyu look like they’re best friends, but they’re practically dating each other and a girl from Wonwoo’s class. Polygamy, if you may.”

You turn back to Chan, who’s surprisingly looking at you with puppy-like eyes, “Why are you giving me that look? You should be giving it to the boys, not me.”

“I dunno…” he mutters, “It feels right.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks flushing at the answer. “How about we hear him out first? See if it’s the real deal and make sure they aren’t secretly trying to haze you guys.”

“Deal.” Chan grins, already looking more optimistic. “Let’s just hope they’re not expecting us to pledge by chugging a gallon of milk or something.”

The group laughs, Junhui shrugging, “I dunno man… They had Jihoon drink that twenty ounce bottle of Coke Zero as his pledge.”

“I mean, the man has a strange obsession with Coke Zero so it’s no problem for him,” Minghao adds, “Remember that mini fridge he had in his room when we visited? I opened it and it was filled to the brim with Coke Zero.”

You turn your head back to Chan, “Hey, didn’t you also mention something about a busking gig?”

“Oh yeah! The gig!” Chan’s wolf ears popped right out of his head, a large grin on his face. “We got an offer for a busking gig!”

Chan was nervous.

You could practically smell it on him.

The boys took close to three weeks to practice their routine, Soonyoung wanting everything to be levelled and in sync for a more smooth or perfect performance. Chan had come to you for comfort several times, his entire body worn out whenever Soonyoung wanted to repeat a certain move or when he made them repeat the entire choreography with little to no breaks in between.

“___…” Chan mumbled, plopping into your arms the moment you were within reach. He didn’t even care that his ears and tail were out on display. “I’m so… tired…”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around him and giving him some back rubs. His tail slowly wagged behind him, “My body aches, ___…”

“Well, that’s a small price to pay for landing a big gig. You guys must’ve made quite the impression on the SVT Frat,” you responded. “Getting recommended to the frat house president and a talent manager? I’m so proud of you, Channie.”

His tail wags faster. “Thanks…” he mumbles as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent; an action that causes you to shiver. “You’ll… You’ll come watch, right..?”

You run a hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. A low, rumbling noise from his throat, concerning you just a little because you thought he’d wag his tail off with the speed it was at. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Y’know, if you don’t calm your balls down,” Yejin speaks up, holding up a fan to Junhui’s face, “You’re gonna end up drenching that outfit and it will not look good.”

“Hey, this is the first time we’re busking for a talent scout!” Chan snaps, sending Yejin a glare only to immediately shrink back when the older wolf shoots him a sharp and unimpressed look. He looked down and muttered, “Sorry.” only for you to tilt it back up so you could pat down the last bit of setting powder along the sharp line of his jaw.

You notice the way his ears tint red – whether from heat or embarrassment, you aren’t so sure. Junhui groans, tugging at the white choker around his neck. “Soonyoung, explain again why we look like emo Angels?”

“It’s for the aesthetics, Jun,” he replies, flashing peace signs at an imaginary camera that was behind the taller male. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Minghao scoffs, the fabric of his tunic swishing dramatically as he shifts his weight. “We look like we walked out of an early 2010s Tumblr moodboard titled ‘Sad Celestial Beings Who Listen to Fall Out Boy on Loop’.”

Chan snorts, clearing his throat when he realises it almost smeared the lipstick you were putting on him.

“Honestly,” Yejin says, “Hao’s not wrong. All y’all are missing is a grayscale filter and an unnecessary Latin quote about lost souls.”

Soonyoung pulls out his phone, a big smile on his lips, “Give me five minutes. I can totally make that happen.”

“But, seriously Yejin, how the hell are you not melting?” Chan asks while you carefully pat at the sweat beading along his forehead with a tissue. “You’re like… Jade from Victorious or something? Are you blessed with some kind of internal ice box?”

Yejin rolls her eyes, “It’s called antiperspirant.”

The younger wolf moves to argue back, but you’re quick to grab his jaw before he can do so. You hold up the eyeliner, narrowing your eyes at him, “Don’t move, Romeo, or I will stab you in the eye with this.”

He freezes instantly, wide-eyed, as if you’d just threatened him with a loaded gun instead of a makeup product. He blinks before giving you a sheepish grin, “Right… Statue mode… Got it.”

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “You’re lucky I’m patient,” you mutter, carefully drawing on his eyeliner. “More like I’m lucky I’m cute,” he whispers, earning himself a small pinch to his sides once you were done with his eyeliner – followed by a very undignified yelp.

“Once you’re both done flirting, we got a busking performance to do,” Soonyoung calls out, his voice dripping with exaggerated impatience. You don’t glance up as you cap the eyeliner with a decisive click, “We’re multi-tasking, Soonyoung.”

Chan sticks his tongue out at the blonde before turning to you with a grin that’s half mischief, half gratitude. “Thanks, makeup fairy,” he says, voice low and teasing.

You snort, setting the eyeliner back into the makeup bag. “Call me that again I’ll make sure your eyeliner on both sides are even.”

He’s quick to shut up, hands flying to his face protectively in a dramatic manner, making you laugh harder than you mean to.

“Alright, alright,” Yejin claps her hands, gesturing to the area that’s been sectioned off just for the group’s performance. “Go impress that talent scout with your dances, and maybe not scare some kids.”

You sat right behind the speaker as the boys began to perform, the energy buzzing through the air. Beside you, Yejin carefully holds up Junhui’s phone, recording a fancam of her boyfriend with the concentration of someone defusing a bomb.

“You’re not helping Chan film his?” she questions, glancing at you briefly.

You casually point toward Seungcheol who’s standing not too far away, phone in hand and already filming Chan’s every move with the intensity of a proud father at his son’s first school recital.

“Damn,” Yejin chuckles, “Chan’s already his favourite, huh?”

“From what I heard from Channie, he gets teased a lot, but they still look out for him.”

Yejin smiles softly, returning her focus to recording Junhui. “Well, the SVT frat is like that. Bite and bark at each other one second, then defend each other like their lives depend on it the next.”

You hum in agreement, shifting slightly to make yourself more comfortable. “Guess that’s just how wolves are, huh? Family first… even if they drive you insane half the time.”

“I heard from Junhui that he’s not the only human,” she adds, her fingers still steady on the recording. “There’s these two boys, Jeonghan and Vernon, they’re humans too. And the wolves are super protective over their human frat brothers.”

Your ears perked up, “Really? I thought most humans and hybrids don’t mix well. Stigmas and whatnot.”

“Yeah, but if you give them a chance, you’ll see it’s not that bad. Take me and Junhui for example.”

You snort, “You two are like, stupidly good together. He looks at you like you’re the only person on the planet.”

Yejin rolls her eyes, her cheeks warming slightly. “Yeah, well, sometimes he looks at me like he’s plotting to steal all my fries too.”

You both laugh.

“But, yeah, you could say we’re both proof that hybrids and humans can work out. Coexist in harmony. It may not be easy, but if both parties respect each other, I’d say it’s definitely worth the ups and downs.”

“Seungcheol said their fraternity is… different. Like, once you’re in, you’re family. No questions asked.”

“Oh, speaking of Jeonghan and Vernon, I heard they’re protective over their wolf brothers too!”

Yejin raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. “I heard from Chan that Vernon once decked a guy for saying his wolf friends aren’t welcome in the cafeteria during a rainy day because they ‘smelled like wet dogs’.”

“Jeonghan?”

“Apparently one of the students on our campus was involved with the NEOCITIZEN hazing incident. Jeonghan posted an exposé document of it with receipts and everything. I guess you can say he’s more of a…’I will ruin your life with a smile’ type of guy.”

Yejin lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Humans with wolf instincts. That’s terrifying."

“Yeap, but not as interesting as that.” You lift up your phone, capturing a few shots – not of the boys’ performance, but of Seungcheol mouthing every lyric, completely unaware. Yejin leans over slightly, whispering behind her hand, “At this point, we should just get him a varsity jacket that says President.”

You stifle a laugh. "He'd wear it. Proudly."

The busking performance wrapped up as the last notes of the song drifted into the warm evening air. The boys bowed dramatically, thanking the small crowd that had gathered, while you, Yejin and Seungcheol cheered from the sidelines like proud, mildly embarrassing parents.

It wasn’t long before someone suggested food and because all five men were made up of mostly bottomless pits disguised as people, everyone agreed.

“___, you wanna take the aisle seat?” Chan asks as everyone takes their seat at the corner booth of a cozy Italian restaurant. You blink, a confused look on your face. “Why?”

He shrugs with a small smile, “Figured you don’t like cramped spaces. You’re always on the outer seat of class or at the back where there’s more space.”

His voice is light, but there’s a warmth to his words that makes your heart flutter. You hadn’t expected him to notice that behaviour of yours. It may feel like a small gesture, but it was one that made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t felt nor expected.

Plates of pasta, pizza and baskets of bread covered almost every inch of space, the scent of garlic and tomato sauce filling the air.

Junhui was stealing bites from Yejin’s plate despite her swatting at him with a fork. Seungcheol was dramatically telling a story with hand gestures that nearly knocked over his glass of iced tea. Soonyoung and Minghao were locked in a serious debate over the best pasta sauce. And Chan was just happily demolishing a mountain of beef bolognese pasta as though he was trying to regain the energy he’d spent the past few weeks preparing for the performance.

You smile to yourself, twirling another spoonful of carbonara as you enjoy the warm chaos around you. The clicking of silverware, the laughter, and the occasional playful argument all blended together into a symphony of comfort.

This was like a dream come true.

For the first time, you were actually happy to be surrounded by others.

As the night winds down and everyone starts to slip into a comfortable haze only good food and company can bring, Chan leans forward. “Hey,” his voice was a little softer, like he didn’t want the others to hear. “Do you need a ride back?”

His offer catches you by surprise, “O-Oh… I was just gonna call a cab, actually…”

He’s quick to offer you a ride, “I-I can drive you back! It’s on my way home, plus it’s getting late. It’d be safer too.”

A small, shy smile tugs at your lips. “Are you sure? If it’s a hassle–”

Chan shakes his head so quickly it causes a few strands of his hair to fall into his eyes. “You’re not,” he says firmly, his voice a little softer. “Really, I want to do this. Let me drive you back, ___.”

Your heart does that little flutter again, and you find yourself nodding before your brain can overthink it. “Okay… Thanks, Chan.”

He grins, cheeks a little pink as he finally remembers the fork in his hand and dives back into his bolognese with renewed enthusiasm, like just asking you had taken more energy than he’d thought.

The drive back to your apartment was peaceful, the streets mostly empty as the city settles into a quieter rhythm. Chan kept the conversation flowing almost non-stop, talking about everything from the production of the song with Jihoon to a funny story about how Dokyeom, another wolf in the fraternity, accidentally put salt instead of sugar into a batch of cookies.

You listened, amused at how the considerably shy wolf is yapping. You can’t help but notice how… he was more animated than usual. His grip on the steering wheel was a little tighter than necessary, and he was tapping his fingers along the leather in a restless rhythm. Finally, as he launches into a ramble about how he should probably start learning how to cook properly, “I can’t just live on instant noodles forever, right? Even wolves need proper nutrition or whatever it is that–”

“Chan.” You interrupted him gently, “Are you okay? You’re… yapping a lot tonight.”

“Am not!” he blurts out immediately, voice cracking just a little.

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow, and he let out a helpless laugh, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Okay. Maybe I am,” he admits, eyes still fixed on the road. His voice drops to something softer, returning to that shy Chan you know, “It’s just… I kinda over-talk when I’m nervous. I can’t really help it.”

You turned fully towards him, curiosity piqued. “Nervous?” you repeated, “Why are you nervous, Channie?”

He almost chokes at the nickname, feeling the blood rush lower and he hoped to every god out there that you hadn’t noticed the way his thighs tensed, how he was about to have a half hard-on.

The car slowed as he pulled up to a red light, the glow casting a soft, almost intimate light over Chan’s face. He finally turns to look at you fully, his eyes struggling to make eye contact with you. With a deep breath, he answers, “Because I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that I like you. Like, I like like you.”

The light turns green, but neither of you move, suspended in that breathless second (thank God there were no cars behind, else you’d be faced with multiple angry drivers). Chan scrambled to keep talking, panicked by the silence. “And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same! I just– I didn’t want to keep pretending that it’s just… platonic for me. Because I really do see you more than a friend. You’re an amazing person. Sweet. And you make the worst day feel like nothing, and I just–”

You interrupt him by laughing quietly, “Chan.” You reach out to place a hand over his on the console, and he shuts up, eyes wide like you’d just physically stunned him. You smiled, heart thudding in your chest as you confessed your little crush on him, “I like you too.”

The only sound in the car was Chan’s stunned inhale, then he blinked. Finally, the biggest, most radiant grin spreads across his face, pure joy lighting him up brother than the sun in the day.

“Really?” he breathed.

“Really,” you reassured, laughing a little and motioned to the green light. “Now maybe drive before any cars show up behind us and try not to crash from excitement.”

Chan lets out a shaky laugh, nodding frantically as he drives the car forward again. Throughout the remainder of the drive, he can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at you, like he couldn’t believe that you reciprocate his feelings.

Pulling up in front of your apartment building, he shifts the gears into park but makes no move to unlock the doors just yet. Instead, he sits there for a second, drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

“What’s up, wolfie?” you teased, an amused look on your face.

He hesitates for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip like he was holding back the words. Then, he finally blurts it out, “Would you, um– would you wanna go on a real date with me tomorrow?”

The way he rushed it out all at once had you giggling. “You… You deserve to be asked out properly and well, if I were to ask you to let me be your boyfriend, I would want it done right. I could come pick you and we could… Get coffee? Brunch? DInner? All of the above. Whatever it is that you want.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest at the sheer nervous hope in his voice. “I’d love that, Channie.”

Chan’s body relaxes, but only slightly. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Totally chill about this. Not freaking out or anything.”

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “Text me when you’re here, okay? I’ll be ready by then.”

Before you left the car, you leaned over the console and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to his cheek. The wolf froze, eyes wide and stunned – but the slow, bright smile that followed was enough to make your cheeks burn too.

“Nighty night, Chan,” you said, slipping out of the car with a giggle and a wave.

He stays frozen for a second longer, fingers lightly brushing against the spot where you kissed him. He calls out to you after with a huge, beaming grin, “Night, ___! Sleep well and dream about me!”

Attacca announced that for the week of Halloween, all classes would be suspended after 5pm, citing “seasonal engagement and student well-being” as the official reason on the letters and emails they sent out. But everyone knew what it really meant.

Halloween at Attacca wasn't just a holiday – it was a tradition. A week-long carnival of curated (but mindful) chaos, underground dares, and elaborate, unsanctioned events that blurred the lines between myth and reality. The staff pretend to discourage it, the administration feigned ignorance. But every year, as the leaves of October fell, the campus came alive in a way no syllabus could prepare the freshmen or you for.

On Monday night, the lampposts flickered with orange lights that weren’t there before. The usual LEDs were replaced with vintage bulbs that cast long, warped shadows across the quad. At exactly 11:11pm, the fountain in the center of campus would dispense black water and dry ice smoke. Scattered across campus were boxes labeled, ‘OPEN ME IF YOU DARE’.

Masks appeared in each on-campus dorm room on Wednesday. They were hand-carved, and the students suspected it to be the work of the uni’s drama teacher – Baek Jongho. He always did have a flare for the dramatics.

The masks were antique-looking, each one came with different designs. Some had feathers, others had horns. A few were grotesquely beautiful, almost… sentient. Whether or not they were meant to be worn, the masks certainly had students locking their doors afterwards. Even the usual campus troublemakers kept their heads down.

Then came Thursday, where the air shifted.

Literally.

Attacca’s main hall smelled of old wood and spices – you figured it’s a mix of clove and cinnamon. Students began preparing for the climax of the week: the Halloween Parties organised by each frat house. They all had different themes, it’s what made Attacca Halloween Parties so special.

BANGTAN was known for masquerade balls.

XLOV was known for their drag shows.

And, SVT? The wildest costume party you’ll ever attend.

The scent of takeout lingers in the air – fried chicken, tteokbokki, and kimchi fried rice. You’re curled up on the couch, Chan’s hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, idly scrolling your phone while Chan argues with Junhui about whether vampires or werewolves would win in a dance battle. You cuddle closer to your wolf, already feeling the cold autumn air – that or because they had the air conditioner turned on.

Soonyoung lounges across the arm of the opposite sofa, legs dangling as he sips on his coca-cola. “By the way, what are y’all wearing to the party tomorrow night?”

You blink. “What party?”

Yejin gasps like you’ve just taken the last piece of fries from her. “The Halloween party SVT is throwing! Y’know, the one that got shut down by campus security because Mingyu set off the smoke machine too close to the fire alarm.”

Minghao snorts, scooping up a spoonful of kimchi fried rice. “Yeah, and that was before they could unveil the haunted basement.”

“Aren’t SVT parties invite only?” you ask, setting your phone down. “I didn’t get an invitation so–”

“___, you’re Chan’s girlfriend,” Junhui points out. “You’re practically invited by just being his girl.”

You glance at your boyfriend, who only shrugs with a sheepish smile. “I just assumed you’d come with me.”

“Romantic,” you deadpan.

Chan is quick to scoot closer, wrapping both arms around your waist while giving you those puppy eyes; hoping that it’ll keep you from escaping the conversation. “Come on, baby~” his voice low and coaxing, “Just this once? Please? I’ll make it worth it.”

You raise a brow, “That sounds vaguely threatening.”

“I mean it,” he insists. “Tell you what, baby? You can pick any couple’s costume. Literally anything. I’ll wear ears, if they aren’t wolf ears – crown, body paint, a crop top – name it; I’m in.”

You shift to get a better look at him, “So if I asked you to wear a full-body suit?”

“If it gets you to come to the party, I’ll be a banana. I’ll be the peel if you want. I’ll even let Minghao film it!”

“Wow, you are whipped.”

“Hello?” Chan leans his cheek against yours, “Have you seen my girl? She’s gorgeous and a fucking baddie! I’d be damned if I weren’t whipped for her!”

Soonyung narrows his eyes, “Not bad for a human. Usually it’s foxes that have these kinds of effects – no matter on hybrids or humans.”

His words caused you to shift, like it made you uncomfortable.

Chan waves it off dismissively, “Hyung, enough of that. We don’t need to hear about you and your ex for the nth time.” Returning his attention to you, he pleads once again. “Baby, please~ I really wanna go with you. It’s more fun when you’re there and well, I wanna show off my girl.”

Your stomach does that annoying little flutter thing it always does whenever your boyfriend goes from clown to Prince Charming in a matter of seconds. Yejin makes a gagging noise, acting as though she hadn’t planned a matching costume with Junhui too. “Disgustingly sweet. I love it. Say yes.”

You sigh, giving Chan a dramatic side-eye. “Fine. But if I go, we’re doing my costume idea and you cannot leave me to fend for myself. You know how I am with crowds…”

“Deal,” he nuzzles his face into your neck almost immediately. “Thank you, and I love you. I’ll be the hottest… Mario or the shiniest disco ball you’ve ever seen!”

The bass from the frat house speakers is already making the floorboards vibrate, but none of that matters at the moment. Chan has you pressed up against the walls of his room, your hands flat against the wood as your boyfriend looms behind you, his warm breath brushing against the curve of your neck. His arms cages you in, one hand resting just above your head, the other firm on your him, thumb brushing the edge of the red satin.

“Chan,” you whisper, half-giggling, half-breathless, “We’re gonna be late–”

“Don’t care,” he mutters, nose trailing along your jaw. “They can start the party without us.”

His tail sways behind him, ears twitching every time you shift to press yourself back against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, his scent thick and lazy in the air – musky, familiar, and distinctively him. It curls around your senses until you’re practically drowning in it.

“Pretty baby smells so fucking good,” he murmurs, nuzzling behind your ear, his voice low and raspy. “You wore this just to drive me insane, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes, though the way your heart hammers against your chest betrays you. “It’s just Red Riding Hood, Channie… It’s not lingerie…”

The laugh he lets out were equal parts soft and dark. “Could’ve fooled me. Look at you…”

His nose brushes the base of your neck, then his tongue darts out to slowly lick up, stopping right where scent gland pulses. You shudder. He doesn’t bite, it’s not like he’s marking you but it’s close enough. He switches between nipping at the skin of your neck and his licking it, letting his scent seep into your skin, into your clothes – deep enough that every single hybrid in that will be in the frat house knows who you belong to.

“Need to make sure everybody knows you’re mine,” he says, lips ghosting your neck. “No one touches, and no one looks too long. Got it?”

You turn your head slightly, meeting his eyes. “Is that jealousy talking?”

Chan grins, eyes glowing just a little with the thrill of it. “Maybe. Add a bit of possessiveness into the mix.”

You turn around to face him, adjusting your red cape and smoothing down your skirt. “You’re lucky I like it when wolves get territorial with their partners.”

“You’re lucky that you being in that costume is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You’d consider yourself… somewhat put together. After two years of therapy, you’d gotten better at managing your anxiety. You knew how to recognise the signs, how to slow your breathing, how to ground yourself before it spiraled.

However, nothing could prepare you for this.

Chan had only stepped away for a moment – to get drinks, he said; kissing your cheek and telling you to stay put. You do as you’re told, staying close to the wall – trying to stay away from the worst of the flashing lights and sticky drinks, fingers toying with the hem of your cloak. You scan the room, trying to soothe the buzzing in your chest. Maybe it’s the heat, or the lack of Chan’s presence, or–

“...___?”

You know that voice. You remember that voice.

There, just a few feet away in a glittered vampire cape and hesitant expression, stood the one person you hadn’t seen since middle school – the one person you prayed you’d never see again. Suddenly, you feel as though you’re thrusted back into your middle school years – how that venomous voice of hers echoed in the back of your skull after countless nights of crying into your pillow, how you begged the universe to let you be anything else but your current self.

Lee Minjae.

She has the same face, just… older. Softer, as though any cruelty she had back then had melted away. But the moment your eyes met hers, the room tipped sideways.

“Hey,” she said, her voice less venomous. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you here. I… I know this is weird, but can… Can I just talk to you for a second?”

She sounded so much calmer now. Gentler. But your body didn’t believe it.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

The music fades out as the room dimmed, faces blurring at the edge of your vision as adrenaline takes over every nerve in your body. You feel a tingle go up your spine and panic curled in your lungs like smoke.

“___?”

As she approached you, you backed away instinctively – flashbacks of that day playing right before your eyes.

Her laughing at you. The cruel words. The humiliation. The isolation.

“Whoa, careful there, baby.”

Chan. His voice was sharp and anchoring as his hands closed over your shoulders firmly.

You flinched like you’d been burned. Your wide, glasses eyes turned up to meet his and you watched his expression drop instantly into full concern. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?”

You wanted to respond, but you couldn’t.

It was like a hand was wrapped around your throat, stopping you from speaking. Stopping you from breathing properly.

The room was getting too loud. There were too many people. Too many eyes.

You couldn’t ground yourself.

Chan’s scent was there, but it wasn’t enough.

Your breath came in short, shallow bursts.

Then, you feel the slip.

Your hood fell back.

And your fox ears – golden-beige, velvet-soft, twitching anxiously; sprang up for all to see. A beat later, your tails unfurled from under your skirt, bristling like a storm.

There was a gasp from someone nearby. And then another.

“Oh my God–”

“What the fuck– She’s a hybrid?”

“Not just a hybrid, a fox.”

Dozens of eyes were on you.

Chan’s hold on you tightened, his body moving immediately to step in front of you so he could shield you.

But you were already running.

You stumbled out the back door, into the cold October night, lungs stinging and vision swimming. Your legs carried you blindly across the lawn, away from the music, away from the party – away from everything.

You didn’t even feel the tears until the wind kissed your cheeks. It was all too much.

The flashbacks. The exposure. The eyes.

Everything you’d spent years learning to manage, to keep hidden – gone in one night.

The autumn chill had transitioned into the beginning of winter, and most students had begun retreating indoors. The group lounges across the benches and stone planters, passing around warm drinks and lazily throwing acorns at each other while waiting for Chan to finish his lecture.

“She hasn’t texted back today either?” Junhui asks, voice lower than usual.

“She left me on read…” Yejin sighs, “At least that means she’s still using her phone…”

“Could be worse, y’know..?” Minghao adds quietly, “At least we know she’s not ghost ghosting us.”

Chan hadn’t said much the past few weeks either. The grief in his silence was loud enough. As much as he wants to help you, as much as the group wants to help, they knew they had to give you the space you needed.

However, Soonyoung seemed to have a different view. He leaned back with scoff, barely hiding the disdain in his voice. “You’re all acting like she didn’t lie to us for months. Hell, like she hadn’t lied to you three for years.”

Yejin blinked, clearly taken back by the wolf’s tone. “Excuse me?”

“She hid what she was. What she is,” Soonyoung said bluntly, voice harder than usual. “You don’t think that’s messed up? She calls you her friends, yet she hid the fact that she’s a fox from you for years.”

Minghao’s brows furrowed. “She didn’t owe anyone that information. Especially when she didn’t feel safe because of the discri–”

“This isn’t about what she owed, Hao,” the older wolf snapped. “It’s about trust. And don’t act like I’m the only one who felt something was off with her from the beginning.”

Junhui frowned, “Soonyoung, come on–”

“You’re a human, hyung,” he interrupts, arms crossed and jaw tensed. “You wouldn’t know the difference between the scent of a human and a hybrid. I fucking knew it. Not only did she smell not-human, she’s always deflecting questions. Jumpy. Always looking like someone’s about to bite her head off.”

Yejin stood abruptly, “So now she’s the villain because she didn’t fit your vibe?”

“No, she’s the bad guy because she played us. Played Chan. Foxes will always be foxes, right? They’re tricky little things. They get close just enough to sink their teeth in.”

Junhui attempts to calm his girlfriend down, urging her to sit down. “Soonyoung, you don’t believe that.”

The blonde wolf shrugged like it was obvious. “She got what she wanted. Attention. Someone to fawn over her, and now that everyone knows what she is, she runs? Doesn’t even bother to explain herself to Chan? Tell me that’s not manipulative.”

“You’re projecting your own bias onto her,” Minghao says sharply. “That’s not fair.”

Soonyoung laughs bitterly. “Am I? Or am I just saying what everyone’s thinking and too polite to say out loud?”

Silence fell over the group.

No one argued.

“Excuse me?”

The group turned in unison at the unfamiliar voice.

Minjae stood a few feet away in a fitted coat and soft scarf, hands buried in her pockets. Her expression was uneasy, like she knew what kind of welcome she might get, but came anyway. “I… I was wondering if any of you have seen ___?” she said carefully. “I-I was told she’s always seen with you and I haven’t been able to find her since the party.”

Yejin stood back up. “What the hell do you want from her?”

“I just… I want, need, to apologise to her,” Minjae replies. “It’s… It’s long overdue, but I really feel awful about it and I–”

Minghao cuts her off, “Apologise for what?”

She swallowed, “I was awful to her back in middle school.”

“So… You bullied her?”

Minjae’s silence confirmed it. There was a heavy pause, like the air itself had frozen.

“I know it sounds cliche, but I didn’t know any better back then. I just… She didn’t deserve what I did to her, and looking back, I realise that I shouldn’t have let discrimination or stigmas cloud my judgement of a person’s character or who they really are. ___ was really a sweet girl and I–”

“She looked like she saw a monster,” Yejin cuts in. “Even I couldn’t recognise her with how terrified she looked.”

Minjae tried to speak again, this time more subdued. “Look, I’m not here to make excuses for my actions. I really do want to make things right. If she wants me to leave her alone forever, I will. I just… I want to at least tell her I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused her.”

Yejin chews on the inside of her cheek before exhaling sharply. “We’ll pass on the message and she’ll reach out if she does feel like talking. Until then? Stay away.”

Minjae gives a small nod, slowly backing away.

As she walks off, Chan appears from the other end of the courtyard, catching only her retreating form. “...Who was that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“No one important,” Yejin answered, turning to the younger wolf. “Let’s head inside. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

You can hear your phone vibrating non-stop on the coffee table of your apartment. You didn’t need to check who it was – you knew it was your friends (and boyfriend) texting and calling to check up on you.

They’ve been trying to reach you for weeks.

Ever since the Halloween party.

Ever since your panic attack.

Ever since your secret was placed under the spotlight for everyone to gawk at.

You’d made it home that night on autopilot, barely remembering the run, only the sting in your lungs and the cold on your cheeks. Then came the sickening ache in your chest when you realised what had happened.

What everyone had seen.

People started to whisper about you whenever you walked by, the looks they gave you were enough to have you quickening your pace and averting your gaze. Hell, you even pretended the world was something you could mute.

But your phone didn’t stop.

Chan calls the most. You hear it in the way the vibrations stretched longer because he’s always letting it ring until it goes to voicemail. Sometimes you pick up your phone just to watch his name light up on the screen.

Channie ❤️ is calling…

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Because deep down, no matter how many times Yejin tested “we miss you” and now matter how soft Minghao’s voice had been the last time you answered a call, only to hang up halfway through–

You saw the look in Soonyoung’s eyes.

You’d heard what he said. Not directly, but word travels fast when the gossip involves a fox hybrid who “tricked” her way into a circle of wolves.

“Foxes will always be foxes.”

You’re not even sure who repeated it to you. Maybe it was overheard, or whispered. Either way, it echoed, over and over, even now.

That’s why you’ve stayed away from them.

Because maybe Soonyoung wasn’t the only one who thought that way. Maybe the others were just better at hiding it.

And maybe… maybe even Chan was, too.

You curl tighter into the blanket wrapped around you, as if it could shield you from the thoughts clawing at your chest.

It’s not that you don’t miss them. You do.

You miss him.

But your silence has become a wall now – cold, thick, and possibly safe. If you break it, you’re not sure what you’ll find on the other side.

A few days later, you find yourself standing in front of the SVT frat house, your heart lodged somewhere in your throat. The winter air bit at your skin, and your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve. It was the same house – loud, warm, alive. But to you, it felt like standing on the edge of something you weren’t sure if you were still welcomed.

It took you 15 minutes of mental debate to finally raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound was softer than you thought – hesitant, almost guilty. A few seconds passed, then the door swung open, revealing a very surprised Junhui. He blinked at you like he wasn’t sure you were real, mouth parting slightly in disbelief.

“___?”

You give him a small, anxious wave. He takes a step aside, giving you an assuring smile to welcome you in. “Come on in, Bambi.”

You scrunch your nose, “Bambi..?”

He chuckles softly, “Your eyes are wide like his with how nervous you are, ___. Can I get you anything? A snack? Maybe a glass of water?”

His hospitality is gentle, the kind that makes your heart ache a little because you didn’t realise how much you missed being treated like you mattered. He doesn’t ask why you ghosted them, doesn’t mention the night of the Halloween party. Instead, he just offers warmth, like a heater in the middle of winter.

“No, thanks,” you give him a small smile. “I… I came to talk to Chan.”

Junhui gestures towards the stairs, “He’s upstairs with Soonyoung and Yeijn.” You nod, taking a hesitant step forward as the heavy weight on your chest threatens to drag you back down.

Just as your foot hits the bottom step, he calls out softly behind you. “I know you’re a good person. It’s unfortunate that stigmatisation is something we have to deal with in this society, but I want you to know that hybrid or not, I believe you aren’t what they’ve labelled you as.”

You freeze mid-step, fingers curling slightly against the railing. His words settled over you like a second layer of comfort, barely enough to silence the storm inside you; but enough to keep you moving.

“Thanks, Jun,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you realised you had forgotten to ask Junhui which room the wolves were in. As you’re about to try your luck by knocking on the rooms one by one, you hear muted voices coming from one of them.

Approaching one of the doors that was slightly open ajar, the voices became clearer and you wished you hadn’t come by in the first place.

“So what if she’s a fox?” Yejin’s voice was sharp, laced with the kind of anger that came from defending someone she cares about. “That doesn’t suddenly erase everything she’s done or the kind of person she is!”

“She lied, Yejin!” Soonyoung shot back. “She lied to all of us! You think that doesn’t matter? She’s exactly like how foxes are!”

“She didn’t lie, hyung,” Chan’s voice came then, low and controlled, each word carrying weight. “She’s protecting herself. It’s not the same thing.”

You stood frozen just outside the door, heart hammering against your ribs. It was… surreal, to say the least. Your name – your identity, being dissected out in the open. As though you were no longer a person, just a debate.

“Foxes are deceitful! She literally lied to us, to you! Need I mention their unfaithfulness? Their tendencies to jump partners?” Soonyoung’s voice was raw with something between bitterness and conviction.

“Stop.”

Chan’s voice was so cold it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Hyung, as much as I love you, you’ve gone too far. ___ may be a fox, but she is not someone for you to project your biased views onto. You don’t get to talk about her like she’s some kind of warning label.”

“Lee Chan, are you fucking serious right now?” the elder barked, anger bubbling over. “Foxes aren’t like us wolves! We’re bound to one partner for all eternity while foxes can barely–”

“You don’t know her! I do, and she’s not like that!”

“Lee Chan!” Soonyoung warned, voice rising in pitch.

“Just because you were cheated on by Jihye means ___ would do it to me!” Chan’s voice cracked like a whip.

Yejin rises from the bed, “Okay, both of you, that’s enough–”

But it was too late.

Soonyoung’s eyes blew wide with rage as he marched forward, grabbing Chan by the collar of his shirt with both hands. “Don’t you fucking bring that name up,” he growls out, breath hot and trembling with fury.

“Soonyoung, let him go–”

“Then stop questioning my girl’s loyalty,” Chan bit back, unflinching despite the tension snapping between them like a live wire.

“Boys-” Yejin’s voice came again, edged with panic.

But it was Minghao’s voice that cut through everything.

“___? What are you doing here?”

All heads turned in an instant, towards the doorway where you stood frozen – fox ears flicked upwards but flattened just as quick, wide-eyed and trembling, like a prey caught in the glow of a spotlight. The weight of every stare crushed your chest.

You didn’t wait to see Chan’s face.

Didn’t stay to hear the silence shift into something else.

Because you turned.

And you ran.

Down the stairs, past Junhui’s startled call, out the door. The cold winter hit you once again, but it couldn’t numb the way your heart was racing nor the tears that blurred your vision. Your breath came in shallow bursts, the frantic sound of your footsteps drowned by the thunder in your ears.

You weren’t sure which hurt more.

The fear that Soonyoung could possibly be right…

Or the fact that Chan had to defend you like you were something shameful.

The cold didn’t leave your skin even after you slammed the apartment door shut behind you.

You leaned back against it, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Your hands were trembling – whether from the sprint across campus, the leftover sting of Soonyoung’s words, or the echo of Chan’s voice calling you his girl, you weren’t sure.

You slipped off your shoes, barely kicking them aside before trudging towards the couch. The silence was a cruel contrast to the chaos still ringing in your head. Collapsing onto the couch without turning on the lights, you wrapped your arms around your knees. You hadn’t realised how tightly you’d been gripping your phone until it buzzed.

Flipping it over, the bright screen illuminates your tear-stained cheeks.

Three (3) missed calls from Yejin🐺

Five (5) missed calls from Channie❤️

Then came the messages. So many messages.

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your sweater, but the tears kept coming. You weren’t even sure what they were for anymore.

Maybe it’s the shame of being seen.

Or the guilt of running.

Or the fear that maybe Soonyoung was right.

Worst of all, the ache in your chest that came with the sound of Chan’s voice defending you. Because part of you… Part of you didn’t think you deserved it.

hao🐺: hey hao🐺: jun caught me up with what happened earlier hao🐺: i can’t justify soonyoung’s actions or words hao🐺: but i just want to say that he’s only looking out for chan hao🐺: and he’s been hurt by a fox hybrid in the past hao🐺: i’ll only say that much bcs it’s not my story to tell hao🐺: but pls take care ok? hao🐺: if you could, at least text or call back Chan

Then, Chan’s name lights up your screen once again. His contact photo, the one Yejin took during the last summer festival, smiling at you like nothing’s changed.

But it has.

channie❤️: baby channie❤️: please pickup the phone channie❤️: or at least answer me channie❤️: idk how much of the convo you heard channie❤️: but pls talk to me

The cursor blinks in the message box.

You could, want to answer. But your fingers don’t move.

Because you’re still trying to figure out if hearing him defend you made things better or so much worse.

You were in the middle of stuffing your face with ice cream, ears flattened against your head and tail thumping sadly. The sound of your doorbell ringing jolts you out of your fog. Pausing the sitcom playing on your TV, you wiped your mouth with a tissue and cautiously padded over to the door. Peeking through the peephole, your breath catches in your throat because on the other side of your door stood Chan – dishevelled, worry etched deep in his eyes.

You don’t answer. Maybe you weren’t ready.

Moments later, the doorbell rings again.

“Baby?” His voice was soft, but urgent through the door. “Baby, I came to talk to you… You weren’t answering my calls or texts, and I’m just… I… I just want us to talk, ___.”

Still silence.

He sighs, words slipping under the door like a warm breeze.

“___, I know you’re home and behind the door. I can smell you, y’know.”

A small squeak escapes you before the door creaks open slowly. Relief floods Chan’s face as he sees you standing there, timid and vulnerable. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, removing his shoes, and pulled you into a tight embrace. His hands settled on your waist as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “My sweet baby fox, why’d you hide from me?”

That term had you freezing up momentarily, breath hitching as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “I… I lied to you…” you confessed, voice shaky. “I… I deceived you… Soonyoung was–”

“Fuck Soonyoung and his words,” Chan’s tone was firm as his hands slid up from your waist to cup your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, “___, I know you have your own reasons for hiding the fact that you’re a fox. But that won’t change the face that I love you. I know you love me too, baby.”

“Chan–”

He presses a finger to your lips, “I think you know wolves only have one partner, don’t you? A partner they’ll spend the rest of their lives with – their one true mate.” Leaning in, his lips brushed against yours as he whispered, “And I’ve made up my mind on who my mate will be.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. “But, Chan–”

Chan captured your lips with his, as though he’s closing the gap between your doubts and his devotion. The kiss was slow, deep and claiming; each movement tender but charged with a quiet promise.

His hands tightened its grip on your waist, fingers digging into the fabric as he pressed closer – his body heat grounding you in the moment. Your tail gave a hesitant twitch at first, flicking once in uncertainty before curling around his left thigh. It trembled just a little, but the way it clung almost possessively revealed betrayed the little faux shyness you had.

You didn’t mean for it to move, at least not consciously, but your body was responding to him – craving his closeness.

You melt into him, heart pounding fiercely, breath hitching as his hands slid lower to pull you flush against him. There was a hunger beneath his touch, patient but it was unmistakably there while he eases you back gently toward the couch.

His strong hands caught you fully before you could fully settle onto the couch, his fingers tracing the curve of your body as he pressed you gently back against the soft cushions. You shivered slightly under his touch, but it wasn’t from the cold – it was the anticipation.

“Look at me, ___,” Chan whispered, his voice low and rough with need. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, admiring the way your ears twitched as his thumb lingers on your cheek. “You don’t have to be scared, yea? I’m here, foxy. I’m all yours if you’ll have me.”

You meet his gaze, the honesty in his eyes making your chest ache. “I’m scared,” you admitted softly. “After… After everything… What about Soonyoung and the others..?”

He shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Forget about them and their opinions. They don’t get to decide who or what you are. You’re you. You’re my girl – clever, strong, the only one I want.”

His fingers trailed lower, sliding beneath the fabric of the oversized sweater you wore with a tenderness that was a complete opposite to the intensity burning behind his eyes. Your gasped softly as his touch found your bare skin, tracing slow and deliberate patterns along your thigh before finally easing inside your panties.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay? As much as I want to feel you, I also want you to feel safe.”

You nodded, breathless. “I do. Always. With you.”

He presses a kiss to your temple before sliding his hand down fully, two of his thick fingers sinking into your pussy with a groan he tries to bite back. “Fuck, foxy,” he whispers, dragging his fingers through your slick folds. “You’re already so wet and I barely even touched you. Do you get turned on whenever I tell you you’re mine?”

You whimpered – quiet, needy – and arched subtly into his hand. He curls his digits and your tail curls around his wrist like it was trying to hold him there.

His thumb brushes up to your clit, gentle at first – drawing small, slow circles; all while his fingers start to move at a maddening rhythm – curling deep and stroking your gummy walls just right. A startled moan leaves your lips at how quick he found your g-spot.

“There she is,” he purrs, voice dipping into a low tone. “There’s my pretty little fox.”

You shivered. Not from the cold, but from the way he said my. You take notice of the way his eyes darkened whenever he looks at you underneath him, like you were the only thing in the world that could calm the storm inside him – even if you were the cause of said storm.

You clenched around his fingers involuntarily, your face flushed with heat.

“I’ll never take you for granted, baby.” His voice was soft, but his movements weren’t. His pace gradually picked up, still careful and loving, but they were no longer shy. “You’re mine. No matter what they say.”

You gasped as he shifted closer, his hand never stopping their ministration. His thumb rubbed your clit in tight circles now, each rub expertly timed with the thrust of his finger. Your hips bucked, breath stuttering with every pulse of pleasure.

“C-Channie!” you cried out, “You’re making me feel so good!”

“Shit, love the way you sound when I pleasure you, foxy…” He sounds a bit more breathless now. It was a known fact that you both shared a praise kink – you get off when he praises you and vice versa.

“Those sweet little noises you make… Only I get to hear them. You know that, right?

You nodded frantically, eyes already glossy.

“Say it,” he urged, fingers pushing deeper into your squelching pussy. “Say that you’re mine.”

“Yours!” you moaned, hips bucking up only for Chan to press it back down. “I’m yours! Chan, I’m… Oh-Oh God..!”

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice a little rougher. “That’s my girl.”

You cum at the praise, crying out as your body shakes underneath him. Your tail gave a sharp twitch before tightening again around his wrist, clinging as the waves of your orgasms crashed over you. Chan’s hand doesn’t stop, fingers slowing but not stopping, his thumb rolling your clit gentler as he murmurs praises against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful… So good for me… My pretty fox…”

Your tail quivered and wrapped tighter around his arm. Even when the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, he didn't pull away. He just holds you, his fingers still resting inside you, his other hand now moving to stroke the base of your tail, coaxing tiny shivers from your spent body.

“You’re not alone, baby,” he whispers into your hair. “You never will be. I love you. Just as you are.”

You meet his gaze, feeling your heart swell at his affection, and for the first time that day, or even in weeks – you smiled.

Chan’s fingers never leave your tail as you lay there, still catching your breath. He slowly traces the soft fur, his touch featherlight but purposeful, pulling out every tiny twitch and flick from you.

“Can’t get enough of you, foxy.” His hand curls around the plush tail, tugging just enough to make you whine. “Such a pretty tail… So soft… So beautiful…”

You felt your cheeks flush, hips shifting instinctively toward his hand. The tail was yours, but at that moment, it felt like Chan owned it instead. His hands move to your waist, “C’mon, baby, turn over f’me.”

You hesitated for a moment, heart hammering against your rib cage before obeying; rolling over onto your stomach before pushing yourself up onto your hands and knees. Chan’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight, exposed and vulnerable, your tail flicking nervously as he settled behind you. You hear the sounds of his pants being undone before he presses himself forward, warm and hard against your slick folds.

“Ready, foxy?”

You nodded and with a slow, steady motion, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. Your tail flicked wildly against his stomach as he started to thrust – slow and deep, matching the pounding rhythm of your heart.

The room was quiet except for the sounds of skin meeting skin and breathless moans as Chan moved behind you at a steady pace. The soft glow of the lamp casts shadows on the wall, dancing across the bare curves of your back, and illuminating the possessive gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes.

Chan had a firm grip on your hips, guiding you back onto his cock with each slow, deep thrust that leaves you gasping and trembling. The stretch was overwhelming but in the best ways possible – filling, grounding, possessive; and you couldn’t get enough – neither can he.

His low groan rumbles from his chest, his head dipping to brush his lips down the nape of your neck as he presses a kiss to your damp skin. “You’re doing so well for me, foxy,” he praises, his voice rough and edged with pride. “Pretty little pussy taking my dick so perfectly.”

His fingers trail down your spine until they find the base of your tail and your breath hitches. He raises an eyebrow, gauging your reaction before dipping his head to kiss the back of your neck again, slower this time – sending another shiver down your spine.

“Your tail is sensitive, isn’t it?” he teases against your skin, voice full of dark amusement.

You squirmed weakly beneath him, cheeks burning. “C-Channie~”

Suddenly, in a deliberate motion, Chan wraps his fingers around the base of your tail and gives it a firm tug. Your response was immediate – a strangled cry rips from your throat as your body arched back into him instinctively, your walls fluttering violently around him.

The jolt of pleasure surging through your body was white-hot, sharp. You cum around his thick cock and you barely had time to recover when he gave you a particularly deep thrust, leaking cockhead hitting your g-spot continuously with perfect, practiced precision.

“C-Channie!” you cried out, voice cracking as your vision blurred from the intensity.

Behind you, Chan lets out a dark chuckle, clearly pleased with your reaction. He leans forward, pressing his chest against your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You liked that, huh?” he growled softly, a wicked grin on his lips as he gave another tug on your tail, eliciting another high-pitched moan from your throat. “You’re so sensitive here, foxy… So responsive.”

Your fox ears flicked up in excitement before flattening shyly against your head, a clear sign of how overwhelmed and sensitive you were from the pleasure. His teeth grazed your clothed shoulder as he bit down lightly, anchoring you as he thrust into you harder this time, rougher – making your arms tremble beneath you as you struggled to hold yourself up.

“Say it,” he commanded. “Say you’re mine.”

“I– I’m yours,” you gasped, dizzy with need. “Only yours, Channie–”

“Louder.”

His pace grew erratic and you knew Chan was close too. The thought of him filling you up with his cum has you tightening around him, and he keeps slamming his cock into your sopping cunt with the goal of making you gush all over him.

“I’m yours!” You sobbed out, feeling another orgasm approaching. “Please! Please, Channie, I–”

His hand leaves your tail to find your clit, two fingers rubbing it in tight little circles as he continues to drive his aching cock into your sensitive pussy. “Cum for me, my pretty fox. Cream all over my cock with this sweet pussy of yours.”

The way he praises you and how his tip grinds against the spongy spot inside you was all it takes to have your orgasm crash over you. With your tail still tingling from the earlier tugs and his name on your lips like a prayer, you came hard – body trembling beneath him. Your moans echoed through the room as Chan fucks you through it, riding out your orgasm with a groan as he chases his own.

Your pussy clenches and unclenches rhythmically as Chan buries himself to the hilt, cock throbbing as he shoots his hot load inside your cunt. You mewl softly when you feel hot ropes of cum filling you up to the brim, some of it already dripping out your stuffed hole.

Chan stays close behind you, his hands gently sliding up your sides, wanting to ground your trembling frame. His touch was no longer urgent – just warm and tender.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks, voice full of concern. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod faintly, still catching your breath as you rested on your forearms, muscles loose and spent. “Y-yeah… I’m okay, Channie…”

He shifts carefully, his dick still lodged inside you, keeping you plugged up. He slides an arm underneath your body to pull you up and cradle your body against his stomach. His hand comes to gently stroke the skin of your stomach.

“I… I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your hair. “I just… I love you, ___. All of you.”

Your fingers found his, lacing them together.

“I know, Channie,” you whispered back, exhausted but safe. “I love you too.”

Chan smiles against your shoulder, holding you just a little tighter as the room settles into a peaceful hush – nothing but your soft breaths and the quiet hum of affection.

The gossip of your revelation as a fox hybrid finally died down. But of course, there are still those that would test your loyalty.

The campus open study area buzzed with low chatter, and your focus was on the assignment that was handed out yesterday.

“Well, well, looks like I found the famous fox hybrid. I hear you’re not as fierce as they say.” The words slid from Jaemin’s lips, coated with false charm as he stepped close, trying to read your reaction. Several students nearby paused, a few leaned in closer to whisper amongst themselves.

You felt the familiar prickle crawl up the back of your neck – the attention alway came with a sharp edge, like waiting for someone to prod just hard enough to see if you’d fight back.

“Maybe you just need a friend… or something more.”

The words hung in the air like a trap disguised as flirtation.

Your eyes narrowed, seeing right through his attempt. A low, guttural growl escaped from deep in your throat, wild and warning. The room froze and Jaemin’s smirk vanished, replaced by a startled flush of unease. His brows shot up in genuine surprise, “Whoa, okay. Didn’t expect that.”

You bared your teeth just enough and fixed him with a cold glare, “I’m not who they made me out to be.”

The space quiets down as the male takes a hurried step back, swallowing hard. “Right. Noted.”

You straightened, calming your breathing as the adrenaline faded. Everyone got the message – you weren’t some heat-crazed fox for them to mock or flirt with just to see if you’d fold. It was clear that your loyalty wasn’t something anyone would ever question again.

The familiar buzz of SVT’s frat house buzzed through the air as you stepped inside, Chan’s hand firmly holding yours. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, every step feeling heavier than the last. You stayed close to him, hiding just a little behind his broad frame, the comfort of his presence keeping you together from falling apart at the anxiety clawing at your insides.

Chan’s eyes met yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can do this, okay? I gotchu.”

The room fell momentarily silent when the group noticed your arrival. Junhui’s eyes grew wide, Minghao’s lips parted in shock, Yejin’s expression softened; but Soonyoung’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. You take a shaky breath, summoning every ounce of courage.

“I… I’m sorry,” you start, voice small and hesitant. “I… I didn’t mean to ghost you all. I… I’m sorry for not answering your calls or texts. I wasn’t ready.” Your eyes darted nervously between their faces, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and regret. “I didn’t mean to worry or hurt any of you.”

Junhui steps forward, his tone gentle but firm. “There’s no need to apologise, ___, really. We get it, things have been complicated. But you don’t have to face it alone anymore.”

Yejin nodded, a warm smile breaking through. “We missed you.”

The attention shifts to Soonyoung as he steps forward, his usual confident stance replaced by something more vulnerable. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding direct eye contact at first. “___,” he greets.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Soonyoung…”

“I… I want to apologise, ___. For what I said and how I acted.”

He finally meets your gaze, the emotions in his eyes sincere. “I let my past and my pain get the better of me. I know that’s no excuse, but… I understand now that it wasn’t fair to take it out on you. You didn’t deserve that, and you don’t deserve to be treated like an outsider.”

He takes a deep breath, the tension in the room slowly melting away.

“Chan’s really important to me, and when my suspicions were confirmed… I thought… I thought that maybe you’d hurt him the way I was hurt before. But you’re not that person, I see that now. I’m sorry for doubting you, for being harsh.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his apology and earnestness. The air between you shifted, heavy with relief. Taking a steadying breath, you managed a small smile. “Thank you, Soonyoung. That… That really means a lot.”

The mood in the room shifted as the group rallied around you, eager to shake off the silence from the past few weeks. Junhui clapped his hands together with a bright grin. “Alright, enough heavy talk. Let’s celebrate having Bambi back!”

Yejin turns to her boyfriend, “Since when have you started calling her Bambi?”

He shrugs, “With those wide eyes, the answer is pretty obvious.”

Minghao pulls out a small box of cupcakes he’d bought, handing them around with a smile. “Welcome back party! Let’s go!”

Laughter fills the room as snacks are passed and music starts to hum softly from the speakers. You feel a comforting warmth surge through you, not just from the food, but from the genuine smiles and open arms around you.

As the night deepens, the noise and chatter starts to overwhelm your senses again. Quietly, you slipped away, making your way to the safety of Chan’s room. You sink into his bed, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the woodiness of the room.

Your tail flicked lazily beneath the covers as your ears twitched at the muffled sounds from the party outside.

A few minutes passed before the door creaked open.

“Baby?” Chan’s voice called out gently, and when he saw you all curled up on his bed, he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the whole night. “There’s my pretty fox.”

He closed the door behind him, crossing the room in a few long strides. The bed dipped as he took a seat beside you, reaching out to brush a few strands of stray hair away from your face.

“You okay?”

You hum, “Just… Just needed to take a breather…”

He smiles softly, slipping under the covers next to you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“I missed this,” you whispered.

“Me too, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll hold you for as long as you need.”

235 notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 2 years ago

Text

『♡』 Rises the Moon

♡ featuring: dan heng IL x f!reader

♡ summary: you help dan heng work through his heat cycle wc: 3.1k+

♡ cw/tw: canon-divergent, breeding, praise, kinda sad but wholesome, monster-fucking, heat cycle, blowjob, cunnilingus, mentions of blood, biting

notes: super canon divergent ik vidyadhara can't have kids but ahhh dan heng breed brainrot :P ruahh I need that lc

Cracked from a shimmering pearl into the cold deception of a ship no longer home, that damned his ill-fated legacy. A lonely forgone dragon wanders a lifetime in purgatory, searching for hands to follow, for he was reborn into the dead silence of solitude. He stretched his inhuman heart as far as it could reach, enough for anyone to hold. But it twisted and tangled in thorns, cradled by serpents' eyes that prayed for his ruin. In brief moments of rest, his visions were suffocated with catastrophic destruction unbeknownst to the reincarnate. When he was eventually released, no one turned for him; a trail of fire he would have to walk alone, bleeding for repentance until his sin was permanently consumed by the collapsing universe.

A race cursed to live forever rarely knew joy or love to its full extent, as all things mortal would return to the ground beneath them. It wasn’t worth the attachment, nor the deserved doom of a man denied salvation.

Your arrival at the space station upturned his perception. He wasn’t sure why he yearned to be near you, why his senses craved your smell and sight. He had to distance himself from you as much as possible, but the melody of your pure voice stored a rhythm in his core that could not be removed. He lamented the blooming affection in his discernment. Often lying awake at night, struggling to satiate the urges.

To you, he was Dan Heng. The solemn, headstrong friend that seldom spoke in your presence. Your favorite pastime was playful banter; he rarely smiled, but it pulled at your heartstrings when the corners of his lips slightly lifted. When he picked at his food, you went out of your way to find out what he preferred and arranged your meals around his. You spent almost all of your time on the parlor car. That isn’t to say you weren’t interested in adventuring, you frequently noted the prettiest gems March showed you during their trips. You asked Dan about the stuff he enjoyed, but it’d usually amount to “I was too focused on staying alive to take in the scenery.” You recall entering your room after their return and noticed an iron scrap flower sitting on your windowsill. Dan nonchalantly admitted to the act, mentioning how he overheard your liking for metallic constructs. You originally thought this was simply an extension of your friendship, but the burning ache in your body spoke otherwise. The little things he did, such as bringing small gifts or ingredients for you to experiment with made you seek that numbed heart, imprisoned in ice.

Himeko joked about your sour mood whenever Dan Heng was gone. You read while she stared at you, amused by the pout on your face. “Hmm, your boy toy is missing. Feeling down?” Your head shot up, ears hot from the assumption.

“W-what? No, of course not. We’re friends, Himeko.” you panicked. She softly giggled.

“Don’t worry. They’re coming back soon.” You peeked up from the pages.

“...When?” you mumbled. “A few days. Now you can stop being so sad.”

You were ecstatic when they arrived, ready to hear about their grueling journey, and more so happy to see Dan Heng. As March relived her storytelling, you observed him. He seemed to be in a trance. His expression was the same as always, but he felt disconnected from you, like he discerned a grim future. He didn’t come to dinner and went to sleep. When you asked March if something happened, she shifted uncomfortably but finally spoke.

“Dan Heng...he changed on the Xianzhou Luofu.” She’d conveniently left out most of the story.

“What do you mean ‘changed’?” you questioned, finding it hard to mask your worries. “He had horns and... It was all really new. I kinda wanna forget about it, too.” You didn’t pressure her for more information, and she went to her room shortly after. You tossed in your sleep, wondering what he must’ve gone through, and what you could do to help him.

You awoke in an inky blue void, the stars cascading a brilliant aura across the night. There were no other planets visible; only the vast moon, a divinely warm glow, alluring and protective in your gaze. Heavenly bodies carried infinitely above, shaping the moon in its godlike image. You stood in a comparatively small pool of iridescent liquid that waterfalled off each side. It marbled from refracted shimmers, cool to the touch. Somehow life emerged in the barren quiet, white lotus’ decorating most of the area. They never spilled down the stream, as if they'd been waiting. In said pool, was a man with elvish ears and gleaming horns, kneeling turned away from you. His pale arms were shackled behind him, and his delicate hair cascaded down his naked back. If you listened closely, you could hear the faint sobs he tried to stifle. You wanted to comfort him, to calm his nerves. You took a step, and he stopped. He didn’t acknowledge you. You took another step, your hand wishing to touch him. Before you could, you phased out of your dream.

For the next two weeks, he didn’t leave his room. Not when you were around. At the same time, this reoccurring dream was plaguing your thoughts. It ended the same way each time. March aimed to console you, but you felt she knew more than she led on. Fatigued from your restless mind, you decide to talk to Himeko instead. She stirs her drink while Welt reads the paper.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” said Welt.

“Good...morning.” you yawned, rubbing your worsening eyebags.

“You don’t seem okay. Is everything alright?” Himeko asks, motioning for you to sit beside her.

“Something is wrong with Dan Heng and March isn’t telling me everything. I was hoping you would.” Welt clears his throat, sets the paper on the table and walks away. Himeko puts her hand on your knee.

“He’s feeling unwell right now. It’s best we don’t disturb him.”

“I’ve been having this weird dream, of a guy with horns. He’s crying. And I can’t save him. What does this mean? Why is everyone keeping this from me?” Alarm flashes in her expression, but she composes herself. She sucks in a deep breath. “Do you know what a Vidyadhara is?”

“No.”

“Vidyadhara descended from dragons, and they’re very powerful. Dan Heng is a special case of Vidyadhara, so we must treat him as such.”

“So why can’t I see him?”

“It’s important that we avoid him while he’s in the process of...getting through this.”

“But someone has to check on him, right? I could be the one to do it-”

“(Y/N). Dan Heng requested specifically, that I don’t allow you to see him.” You felt your heart pierce. You believed you were friends with him, so why was he forcing you away? “Oh. Okay.” you said meekly. You went back to your room to contemplate.

You were a ghost throughout the day, serving food in silence. When the crew went to bed you prepared a hearty soup to soothe whatever illness he had. He’d probably reject it, but the selfish side wanted to know why he was upset with you. Even if he didn’t have an answer, perhaps his voice would be adequate. Arriving at his door, you knock twice gently.

“I have some soup for you. Himeko said you were feeling ill. I won’t disrupt you, just want to make sure you’re eating.” He said nothing. “If you’re not hungry, let me know and I can store it for tomorrow. You can’t get better on an empty stomach.” You hear rustling inside, but he still said nothing.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, but I need you to go away.” His voice is feeble, and it scares you.

“Can I please leave this on your desk? I’ll go away right after, I promise.” You 're practically begging, but you need to see him and know he’s okay. Dan Heng’s weakening mindset rationalizes his risky judgement, and he allows you to come in. He should be able to defend you from himself with the strength he has left; there’s no other choice. “Okay.”

When you open the door, you’re horrified at the state. Books and precious documents were strewn across the floor or shredded, along with most of the blankets. He’s hunched over on the futon clenching his abdomen, strands of hair sticking to his shiny forehead and puffy lips. He was in a form you've never seen, dressed in elegance in contrast to his shaking figure. The clothes were disheveled, however, the window on his top ripped down the middle, exposing the muscular torso underneath with his pants pulled just under his v-line. He's flushed and sweating, a look in his eyes that both terrifies and excites you. What was most shocking were the pointy ears and horns protruding from his head. The same ones from your dream. He tracks you as you walk to his desk. He’s undoubtedly weak, and yet you feel hunted. You set the soup down.

“Shouldn’t you ask Bailu about this?”

“I did already. There’s nothing she can do. I have to wait.” You get on your knees next to him, and he recoils from your proximity.

“Wait for what?”

“I'm hot all over, all the time. Nothing I do works, even when I feel good it’s not enough.” he rasps. His eyes are shut in an attempt to null the intense sensation blazing in his veins. You ultimately realize what he means and regret your cluelessness. Still, you don’t leave, deconstructing his resolve. Suddenly, Dan Heng feels the tender press of your palm to his forehead; the touch of someone he could recognize in different timelines and different bodies. The scent of morning dew at early sunrise, the light in its darkness, bitter and sweet and persistent. He punished the thought of ravaging you, but the incessant thump of his member was staggering. He grabs your wrist tight, a guilty look in his eyes.

“I can’t control myself. Go. Now” he shouts. His anger doesn’t scare you, and your other hand caresses his cheek.

“Does it hurt? I can help you.” Dan Heng’s frozen as your fingers travel down his Adam's apple, then his chest, to the hem of his bottoms. He’s on his back taking deep labored breaths, the print growing from your airy brushes.

“I don’t want you to be in pain anymore.”

You spring his cock free, and it bounces into your hand. It’s thick and almost twelve inches, a rosy-brown gradient to the mushroom tip. His veins dance around the rounded spikes lining up his shaft on both sides. A frustrated sigh leaves him, beads of pre come dripping down his balls. You lubricate your hands with his slick and start to slowly pump him. His head is spinning, the intoxicating ecstasy makes him rut his hips and bite his blushed lips. You fondle his balls with one hand while massaging the tip with the other. Whimpers echo pleasantly in your ears, and he can’t stop watching you, drinking up your shy glances. It twitches in your hold; you can feel how close he is. He’s falling apart because of you and your dampened underwear accepts it. You push your thumb in his mouth and part it to reveal excessive drool and sharp canines.

“Do you like it?” you tease. He makes noise resembling an “uh huh” through teary eyes.

“You wanna come?” He quivers from the question. He can only manage a moan. You move to his base, and you slaver at the daunting size before running your tongue along the urethra and taking him in your mouth. He throws his head back but tries to restrain himself from bucking into you. You can barely get it halfway as his cockhead kisses the back of your throat. You hollow your cheeks and start bobbing your head, he trembles from unconstrained pleasure.

“Please, I’ll do anything please let me come” he whines, tears spilling down his cheeks. You move your hands with the suction along his gradually noisy whimpers, the occasional gag from sloppy grinding.

“Ah, ‘m gonna come-” he chokes, his chest hitched rapidly, spurting ropes that flood your throat. He rides the wave against you until you pull up. When you meet with him again, his demeanor changes. He instantly snatches you into his arms and smothers his nose in your stomach. He tears your clothes off impatiently, just to taste your bare skin. “Dan-”

“You smell so good. Aeons, why do you smell so good.” He gazes at you darkly, littering wet kisses across your stomach and chest. His slender hands grope and explore anything they can reach. It was like he had a burst of energy; he nearly lifts you off his lap. You notice his horns get progressively longer, a dim radiance outlining them. His nails grew too, they dragged light scratches over your breasts to your hips. He pulls you to him, lips barely hovering before they collide into a deep, passionate exchange. Unspoken words allow teeth and tongue to mix, and you moan into each other. The pheromones hugging his consciousness are addictive, he needs more of it. He promptly flips you on your back, his eyes look down on you with a starving glint.

“I’m hungry now.”

“Oh sure, I can warm up the-”

“No. Let me eat you.” His statement was more of a demand than a request, as he mangles your panties down your legs. He forces your thighs back and appreciates the glistening sticky folds. “Stunning” he purrs. He licks a flat strip to your clit and laps up your juices, then envelops his mouth in your heat. His firm squeeze prevents you from escaping the determined pink muscle, swirling and twisting around you. He switches between French kisses to your vulva and merciless sucking on the erect bud. He’d rather drown in you than catch his breath, your essence covers his jaw and chin. You card your fingers through his scalp and accidentally sweep his horns; he shudders. You rub the pad of your thumb on it, earning a strangled whimper. His tongue sinks into your passage and begins to move at a brutal pace. You tease the sensitivity in his horns, flicking and circling them. The vibrations from his moans rock against your walls and your hips stutter. “Ah- I’m close” you plead. He stimulates your clit, and you pulse around him before your back arches, and you unwind. His mouth is stitched to you as you try to wriggle out of his grasp. He continues to devour your climax. He hoists your lower half off the ground, savoring your honeyed desire, laughing from your overstimulated cries. You’re spasming and feel your heart racing in your ears. He stops at the approaching precipice and lays you down. Balmy kisses dot your knees.

“Please Dan Heng, more” you beg.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to hurt you.” He's throbbing, and he straightens your legs to roll his hips between your thighs. The plush fat cuddles his cock and he pants. You grab his hand.

“It’s okay, I’m yours. I know you don’t mean to hurt me.”

“But-”

“I love you” you blurt out. “Please, I want to have this with you. I can handle it, I promise.” Your vulnerability surprises you, and he stops.

“You...love me?” he questions. For a split second, you see sadness and despair. No one stood to consider an exile incapable of love, but you did. No one bothered to defrost the drifting hollow, but you did. The undying weeps.

“I love you. I would destroy every star and planet in your name. Carve your worth into the cosmos so that even Fuli could worship your memory. I am yours in its entirety, and I’ll only live for you.” You wipe the tears as they come down and kiss his troubles away.

“I want you inside me” you whisper. He stands and scoops you up, his hands on your ass and your arms around his neck. He aligns his tip with your sex and lowers you into the plunge. The stretching blaze of your walls accommodating his girth is excruciating.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” You give him a reassuring smile. He’s stuffing you full, the spikes knead your inner walls the deeper he goes. He bottoms out and stays there for a while.

“Tell me when to move” he soothes.

“Go ahead.” He starts an unrelenting tempo, and you grip him like a vice, your arousal drenching his balls. The thundering sound of desperate huffs and squelching, smacking flesh is almost embarrassing; you both don’t care, indulging each other. You could’ve sworn you saw something similar to a dragon's tail swaying behind him, or maybe your mind played tricks on you. Strings of saliva connect his fangs, eyes cloudy with carnal impulse and cock twitching from the friction. He can see the bulge snapping in and out of your stomach and groans.

“Deeper.” He pulls out and lays you on the futon before positioning you in a mating press. In one swoop he jackhammers your cunt, balls swinging and ragged breath on your ear. His hair blankets you and you soak in his sweating physique, his needy appearance.

“Gonna breed this pretty pussy” he moans. Eyeing the unoccupied space on your neck, he salivates. You guide his lips to your neck, encouraging him, and he takes the bait. He ruptures the skin with sharp teeth; harsh puncture wounds remain. He licks the blood away, adamant on claiming you. The spikes massage your g-spot, and your eyes loll back, pleasure and pain blurring. Dan Heng loses his composure, frenetic thrusting as he chases his release.

“I’m gonna come!”

“That’s it, come with me, my love” he groans. You see black as tremors overtake you and a stream of squirt coats you both. Your wails flow into the halls. Your contracting vulva sends him over the edge, and he finally comes undone, painting your insides to the hilt. You milk every last drop of his gushing seed, and he jerks a few times until limp. The creamy, swelling base pushes your folds to capacity. It's barbed wire in your gut. He strokes and kisses your face.

“I'm sorry, it’ll go down soon.” With your legs wrapped around him and his head snug against your cheek, you weren’t sure if you wanted it to go down.

His curse may not be lifted through your embrace. But in your arms, his shackles don't feel as heavy.

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #dan heng smut #dan heng il #dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng hsr #dan heng imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae

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lunarcovehq · 2 years ago

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POPPY REED (REBECCA RITTENHOUSE) HAS FOUND.

Connection: Advisor to the coven

Suggested Name: UTP

Age Range: 30-45

Species: Witch

Suggested FCs: UTP, but some suggestions include Lucien Laviscount, Michael Trevino, Zeeko Zaki, Sidharth Malhotra, Luke Mitchell, Berk Cankat, Michael B. Jordan, François Arnaud, Charles Michael Davis

Connection Description:

They were one of the front runners expected to lead the coven along with Poppy’s younger sister, while they made it to the last part of the trials they were declined. While they pretended to be sad for their parents and the covens sake they were secretly glad they weren’t picked.

They would have alluded to or told Poppy as much after she was named supreme by the coven. Which actually caused Poppy to pick them as advisor.

They have been the advisor for a year now along with Poppy as supreme so they have worked together for a bit. They’re one of her biggest supporters as supreme.

As an FYI Poppy died around July 4th and was brought back to life. They would have been part of the vote to bring her back. You can read about the event here.

Extras that would be cool if they work with your bio/we can talk about:

While they are Poppy’s biggest supporter, their family and sibling (potential wc here) is now against Poppy being supreme.

Please be sure to contact the player before applying:

Kourtney is available for DMs on @moonglowmagic !!

#lucien laviscount fc #michael trevino fc #zeeko zaki fc #sidharth malhotra fc #luke mitchell fc #berk cankat fc #michael b. jordan fc #Francois Arnaud fc #charles michael davis fc #closed wc #closed connection #witch wc #all wc #lc wc

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helenanell · 2 months ago

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Pushing It Down || Dr. Abbott

Dr Jack Abbott x OC - (Also functions as X Reader)

This is Part Three of - You’re Good (But could be read alone)

Summary: Years after transferring off the night shift, I finally accept that I may have been running away from someone. From Jack. And I realise this, sitting beside him on a park bench.

Notes: Just Egregious Yearning in this one. Fluff. Angst. This is really them grappling with the power imbalance that kept them apart when they first met. Age gap. (OC / Reader is early 30s, Jack late 40s)

WC: 2.6k

This part was partially inspired by @youvebeenlivingfictional ‘s story - you shouldn’t be (down here with me) - it’s SO GOOD.

@madsmilfelsen @nyheartbreak @rachel2494 @lc-birdie @pear-1206

Many minutes passed uncounted in the quiet company of my colleagues, all of us downtrodden yet still standing, propped up by the hard-earned camaraderie that exists between us.

One by one, they drifted away, seeking shelter from the emotional storm in their homes, with loved ones or just in blessed quiet.

As the group thinned, there was a slow, creeping awareness that Abbott and I may be the last left, but it was not entirely unpleasant. It was a warm, honeyed trickle. Sweet if not a little sticky and uncomfortable. Bittersweet.

When we had arrived with Robby, we had sat side by side on the bench, closer than was necessary, leaning into each other’s sides.

It’s where we remain, Pittsburgh's restless, nocturnal rambling, our only remaining company. The fountain behind us offers its own incoherent, aquatic babbling.

I put it down to how tired I am that once we were alone, I didn’t stop my head from falling down onto Abbott’s shoulder.

I have no explanation for the arm he has wrapped around my back, either. His hand is resting on my upper arm, fingers flexing as if he’s fighting the desire to move them, to actually feel that I’m really in his hold. Despite the chill, he’s still just in his scrub top, arm bare.

When I speak, it doesn’t feel as though I’m breaking the silence, more that I’m reaching out for him in a secondary way; physical proximity that I can convince myself is real if I talk to him and he talks back.

“Admit it, you’re itching to get back to your police scanner.” I say quietly.

“What makes you say that?”

“I figure it’s too quiet here for you, with me.”

“It isn’t. Not with you.” He assures me a little gruffly. Before those words can hang too heavily in the air, he knocks them away with more. “I don’t use the scanner as a white noise machine, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Don’t you? In a way?” I ask gently, “I don’t think you can bear silence.”

The night shift is him busying himself in the dark hours in which I’m certain he can never find sleep.

When so many relinquish consciousness, he’s tending to the trauma of others because if he stops, if he stands still in his apartment without the crackle of the police scanner spitting out more disaster and pain for him to focus on, his own will come crashing down on top of him.

To my surprise, Abbott drops his head on top of mine, his stubbled cheek on my hair. And it is as if that connection between our bodies, no matter how tentative, eases something within him. He lets out a steady exhale, perhaps an expulsion of air which carries an acknowledgement of my words which he can’t bring himself to verbalise.

When he murmurs, I feel it travel into me. Gentle, yet seeking.

“Why did you transfer off the night shift?”

It has been years since I made the choice, but my mind has been slow to react to the change. Resistant, as if it is on a stubborn lag. Sometimes, even now, I catch myself going on autopilot and drifting into the routine I had when on night shift.

It seems Abbott has struggled to reconcile my absence within himself, too. That must be the case, if he’s asking that question with such intensity, years after I made the change.

The night shift is where I transitioned from medical intern, through to residency. I became a doctor in the cradle of the night with Abbott’s guiding hand at my back.

Robby is a phenomenal physician, I respect and adore him. But sometimes I find myself leaning back, a fear of falling, aching for the absence at my back that used to be occupied by Abbott.

Too often, during particularly shitty weeks, when I’m a marionette to delirium, I walk into work and expect to find Dr Abbott there despite the sun shining outside.

I seek him out, in ways I’m both conscious and unconscious of.

I realise that I haven’t registered him as a loss in my life until he’s been returned to me for what I know will be the blink of an eye in our fast-moving profession.

I sit with him now, cocooned by his presence, wrapped up in the familiar comfort of him.

Did I ever realise when we worked together how tangled up in him I had become? Nowadays, I only see him when we pass each other by.

He’s only ever coming and I’m always going.

Yet, that’s still enough for us to snag on each other, caught on the sharp points of what we both left unsaid. What I didn’t let us say, when I transferred without much warning at all.

I never thanked him properly for all he did for me and I still haven’t. It bothers me daily, a sharp stone in my shoe.

I shift my head and he lifts his own so I can peer up at him. We’re so close, closer than we’ve ever been.

I feel his breath on my cheek and his eyes tracing the wearied lines of my face. He knows it so well, but he seems to be mapping it anew, as if taking the opportunity to see any evidence of our years apart in my features.

If it has left visible marks that he might have prevented.

“I left the night shift because it became a hiding place.” I say, voice hushed.

I was hiding in you. Clinging to you. Is what I don’t voice out loud.

My attending. My mentor. Never a friend and yet someone who I had felt intimately tied to. Dependent upon. I’d had to tear myself free. To grow away from him, in the warmth and the light.

Jack smiles down at me. It’s small and edged with a kind of melancholy, almost as if he’s not conscious of it. He reaches out and tucks a fly away hair behind my ear. His hand lingers.

“Come on, Hotshot. Home time.”

Hotshot. I haven’t heard that fall from his lips in such a longtime.

I had been an intern for maybe six hours when he first gave me the nickname and it stayed all through my residency. But then, when I became a full-fledged doctor, he stopped.

I never figured out why, but knowing how he is with all of his staff, he was probably trying to afford me respect. To give me confidence and affirm I was now qualified and deserving. It was always Doctor after that. No nickname.

I’ve missed Hotshot, though. It makes me smile tiredly at him. And it’s probably why I revert to the teasing nickname I had given him once he’d no longer terrified me.

“Are you getting sleepy, old man?”

It’s only as his hand falls away from my face, that I realise he’s been cradling my cheek. There’s a warm buzz where his thumb has been brushing back and forth on the skin, the tingle of bee stings with none of the pain.

“Careful,” he murmurs, “those are fighting words.”

“There is implied fondness in old man.” I say, a little too spacey to reel myself in.

Drinking alcohol around him, even a little, is clearly asking for trouble.

“You are exhausted.” When he pulls away to put his prosthetic back on, I know he’s readying to leave. It has a mournful effect on me.

It’s how I know I’m still in deep. Too deep.

How had I ever believed the lies I’d told myself? That I had pulled myself out of whatever dependency I’d fallen into with him.

Had that not been part of my reasoning for switching shifts too, though? To shake him off? I had found myself wanting him close all the time, needing him in ways that had begun to go beyond the clear lines of professionalism and into a blurry realm with a dizzying lack of clarity.

It’s old earth being turned over, uncovering things I thought I had buried deep.

Needing to move away from him, I get up off the bench far too quickly to be casual and grab my backpack, swinging it onto my shoulder.

Abbott follows suit, watching me in that all-too-perceptive way of his. God, why is he always so insistent on eye contact?

“How close is your place?” He asks.

I grip the strap of my bag a little tighter. “Close. About a fifteen minute walk.”

He frowns. “You walk?”

“I’m saving the planet.”

Abbott shakes his head at me and then holds a hand out, seemingly beckoning me to his side. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

I take a step back, but he immediately recovers the space by moving forward.

“No, Jack, you-“

He cuts me off. “It’s not respectful to argue with your elders. Get moving.”

It’s pathetic how quickly I succumb to him. It feels like I blink and then we’re walking to my apartment, side by side.

His hand keeps brushing mine, never making full contact but the repetition of the action tells me that he might want to.

Abbott walks me right up to the door of my apartment.

I turn the key in the lock, expecting to hear his shoes padding back down the hall any second now. But when I step inside, I feel him follow me in.

The air shifts to accommodate Abbott in this place that’s never encountered him.

My heart stutters, but I say nothing, as if I’m afraid that acknowledging him will shatter what will turn out to be an elaborate illusion.

He can’t possibly be in my home. This place I’m unhealthily protective of; the peace I let almost no one shatter.

When I want to see friends, we go out and I meet them there. I almost never invite them over. And dating…I haven’t done that in years. The few romantic liaisons I have had, I ensure unfold at their place.

But here’s Abbott, slotting into place as if he’s been the missing piece all along.

When I carelessly kick off my sneakers, he immediately, almost instinctively, reaches down to put them neatly on the shoe rack. Then, he picks up both of our discarded backpacks and leans them side by side up against the wall.

All of this he does without looking up, brow drawn tightly, intent on the task as if it is something imperative.

I catch myself watching him, a stupid, infatuated smile on my face and force myself to walk into the open plan kitchen. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and crack it open.

As I lean back against the counter to take a sip, Abbott appears across from me, bracing his hands on the kitchen island.

I could ask him why he’s still here and what exactly he thinks he’s doing looking at me like that, but I don’t.

I stay still and make myself an easier target for his assiduous assessment of me.

“You going to eat something?” He asks.

I shake my head. “I’m going to sleep.”

“You’re running on fumes.” He grumbles and pushes off the island, moving into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge door.

“This might not legally be a home invasion, but it certainly feels like one.”

I’m half-joking, but Abbott looks at me over his shoulder, his expression achingly sincere, a touch too close to tender.

“Say the word and I’m gone.”

I scoff weakly, cheeks heating. “No. You…stay.”

“Good.” He goes back to examining the contents of my fridge and makes a disgruntled noise at what he finds. Or rather, the glaring lack of things to find. “So, you don’t eat at work or at home. Noted.”

“I order in.” I defend myself.

Abbott turns around and leans back against the fridge door once it closes, strong arms crossed over his chest, muscles flexing.

“Don’t make me worry about you, Hotshot.”

There it is again. Hotshot.

I feel my numerous, near-breakdowns that he has been witness to in the last few hours alone justify concern, but I can hear in his voice that my lack of foodstuff isn’t really what he’s talking about.

Still, I go along with it. I make myself complicit in this lie by omission we have wrapped ourselves up in when it comes to our feelings towards one another.

I shrug. “Tomorrow’s my grocery shopping day, it’s fine.”

“After today, all I’ll see when I think of you is this empty fridge.” Abbott says wryly, but there’s some truth pressing up from beneath, the shape of it ghosting the surface.

“You’ll have to do your best to put me out of your mind then.”

He gives me an indecipherable look. It lingers; outstays its welcome. It makes me shift in place.

Mercifully, he shakes the expression away and walks over to me, stopping only when he’s looming above, his face peering down at mine.

Then, holding eye-contact, his hand reaches out and dips into the pocket of my hoodie. He draws it back, revealing the protein bar he’d given me as we’d left the Pitt.

The way he smirks at my petulant huff, tells me that he knows that I had already forgotten it was there.

I roll my eyes. “Ah yes, gourmet dinner for one.”

Abbott chuckles, takes my wrist in his free hand and turns my palm up so he can place the protein bar in it.

“Sit down and eat that.”

“Giving me orders in my own home and then leaving? That’s just bad manners, old man.”

Abbott shakes his head. “I’m not leaving. I will be making you proper food, while you eat that bar of soap.”

“They’re nice.” I counter, ignoring the coil of warmth unspooling within my chest.

He grimaces, turning his nose up as I begin unwrapping the protein bar.

“No, they’re edible. After the day you’ve had, you deserve better than edible.”

“So do you.” I state simply. Then, I dare to add a demand of my own. “Make enough for two.”

Abbott beams at me. I’ve never seen him smile like this. It’s debilitating and does something unalterable to how I see him.

It makes me feel damned.

It makes me feel safe.

“You got enough in your kitchen for that?” He asks.

I grin at him, a little breathless as I back up into my living room. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

I drop down onto my couch, legs curled beneath me and take a bite of the protein bar.

Perhaps it should set off alarm bells that I fall so easily into just watching him move around in my home, but instead, it’s a soothing balm for the aches and pains of the day. And the way his eyes flick over to me every now and then, leads me to believe that maybe it feels just as good to him.

It does feel good. I realise. He makes me feel good.

Maybe, for tonight, I have just supplanted the police scanner as his fixation: seeking out other people’s troubles to ignore his own. But I can live with that.

I can accept whatever reasons he has for being here, so long as he stays.

Part I - Part II

#the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt hbo #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x oc #dr jack abbott #jack abbott x reader #jack abbot #dr jack abbott x reader #jack abbott x you #Spotify

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diamonddaze01 · 7 months ago

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69. "You know my name?" + chan omg im begging u or ill beat u to it and write it (lol stares at all my wips 💀)

call me by my name

Pairing: lc x f!reader | wc: 971 words prompt: "You know my name?" au: university au! | warnings: none a/n: HANEULLLLL thank u for the ask this was so cute and fun to write i hope you love it <33333

The lecture hall buzzed with the usual pre-class noise—pens tapping against desks, chairs creaking as students settled in, snippets of conversation floating from every direction. The air carried a faint hum of fluorescent lights, blending into the background chaos. You sat at your usual spot in the front row, pen poised and ready, eyes skimming the lecture notes you’d pulled up on your laptop.

Behind you, it was less preparation and more pandemonium.

“Seungkwan, what the fuck! Stop throwing shit at me!”

You didn’t have to look to know it was Soonyoung. His voice carried, loud and incredulous as always.

“That’s not throwing—it’s called handing,” Seungkwan shot back, his words dripping with mock seriousness. “Get some spatial awareness, idiot.”

The sound of a paper airplane slicing through the air followed, landing somewhere near your seat. You glanced down briefly at the crumpled attempt at aerodynamics before looking back at your notes.

“Is that supposed to be a plane or modern art?” another voice chimed in—Chan this time, laughter in his tone.

Turning your head slightly, you caught sight of the trio in their usual seats toward the back. Soonyoung had crossed his arms, glaring at the offending paper in Chan’s hand. Seungkwan was smirking triumphantly, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head.

“Give it here,” Chan said, snatching the airplane and inspecting it with exaggerated care. “Yeah, no. This isn’t a plane. This is, like… a bird that forgot how to fly.”

The paper flew again—this time courtesy of Chan—and barely made it past the second row before nose-diving onto the floor. The resulting laughter spread like wildfire across the room, even prompting a raised eyebrow from Professor Lee, who was just arriving.

“If the three of you could channel even half this energy into engineering,” the professor said, setting down his coffee with a thud, “you might actually pass this class.”

A round of chuckles rippled through the room as Chan held up his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll consider it!”

You shook your head, letting the familiar chaos wash over you. It had been like this all semester—Chan, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung acting as the unofficial class entertainment. Their antics had a way of filling the space, loud enough to distract but not enough to pull you from your work.

Professor Lee called the class to order, his voice steady as he launched into announcements. You settled in, fingers flying over your keyboard as you took notes.

Until he dropped the bomb.

“Alright, folks, listen up,” Professor Lee announced, raising his voice over the chatter. “Big news today—it’s time to kick off your group projects.”

Groans and murmurs spread through the room like wildfire. People immediately started swiveling in their seats, calling out to friends to lock in their groups before anyone got left behind.

You stayed put, as you always did. You’d learned from experience—being the quiet one meant waiting out the storm. Once the dust settled, you’d deal with whatever scraps of a team were left.

“The project is worth thirty percent of your grade,” Professor Lee continued, adjusting his glasses. “So choose wisely.”

“Thirty percent?” someone whispered behind you.

“Yeah, that’s fucked,” another voice muttered.

You ignored them, jotting down the project details from the board. If no one picked you, you’d just work alone—it wasn’t ideal, but you’d survive. Your eyes flicked back to your laptop, but before you could even finish writing down the assignment details, a shadow fell over your desk. You blinked up, startled, only to see Chan grinning down at you, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket.

“Uh, hi?” you said cautiously.

“Wanna be in a group with me and my friends?” He jerked his thumb toward Seungkwan and Soonyoung, who were mid-wrestle over a pencil in the back corner of the room.

Your pen froze mid-word. “You… know my name?”

Chan tilted his head like you’d just asked him if the sky was blue. “Uh, yeah? Considering you’re the one who ruins the curve every time… yes, I know your name.”

Oh.

“But also,” he continued, “you clearly know what you’re doing, and we’d be stupid not to team up with you.”

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting for a moment. “Okay.”

His grin widened, and he gestured for you to follow him.

By the time you reached Seungkwan and Soonyoung, they’d paused their argument and were now watching you with matching mischievous smirks.

“So,” Seungkwan said, leaning closer to Chan, “you actually got her to join us, huh?”

“Guess today’s my lucky day,” Chan muttered, side-eyeing him.

Soonyoung jabbed Seungkwan in the ribs, grinning like an idiot. “Told you he wouldn’t chicken out.”

“Shut up,” Chan hissed, his ears already pink.

But Seungkwan wasn’t done. “You didn’t have to use the whole ‘you ruin the curve’ thing. You could’ve just said, ‘Hey, I think you’re super smart and pretty, and I totally have a crush on you.’”

Chan’s eyes widened as if someone had just slapped him with a textbook. “What the fuck—”

“Or,” Soonyoung added, tapping his chin theatrically, “you could’ve been, like, ‘I sit two rows behind you every day because your hair smells like strawberries.’”

“I do not—”

Seungkwan gasped, fake-shocked. “Oh my God, you’ve smelled her hair?”

Chan groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I hate both of you.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, covering your mouth as the trio dissolved into chaos.

“Don’t listen to them,” Chan said quickly, turning back to you with an apologetic look. “They’re dumbasses, but I promise we’ll actually get work done. Eventually.”

You raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “As long as no one brings paper airplanes to the final presentation.”

“See?” Soonyoung crowed. “She’s funny too. You’re screwed, Chan.”

Chan didn’t answer, but the flush creeping up his neck said more than enough.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

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rubyreduji · 2 years ago

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omega envy — lc

summary: chan goes into rut while you two are wrestling and you offer to help him out

tags: smut (minors dni!), a/b/o dynamics, alpha!chan, beta!reader warnings: cringe omegaverse, play wrestling, reader is implied smaller than chan, rough play, explicit unprotected sex, oral (f. rec), fingering, (f. rec), breeding kink wc: 3.2k an: i made a post abt writing an a/b/o story months ago and i told mika i’d write one for her so mika this is for you (tbh i dont even know if ur still interested in this/remember but shhh)

Chan’s restless as you two sit on the couch, attempting to watch a movie that he picked out. You reach over for the remote and pause the movie before turning to Chan.

“What is your problem?”

He stops fidgeting and turns to you, caught off guard. His eyes are wide and he looks like a puppy. “What?”

“Sit still,” you tell him. “You’ve been jittery for the past hour.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters. He turns away from you, pretending like he’s watching the movie again, but you can still see the way his fingers tap against his thighs and the slight bounce of his leg as he taps his heel up and down.

You’re not too annoyed by it, Chan has always been a restless body, but it seems to be even worse than usual. You think about what the other pack alphas would do if they were here right now. Mingyu and Cheol are pretty restless too and they often like to go to the gym to release some tension. You can’t exactly just drag Chan to the gym right now, but you can think of a couple other ways to get his jitters out.

You smirk to yourself before launching yourself across the couch at Chan, tackling him against the cushions. He lets out a yelp that quickly turns into a growl. He doesn’t question you, his instincts taking over as he grabs at you, trying to pin you back.

This is your favorite part about being a beta. The ability to blend well with both the alphas and omegas while still being your own thing. You can cuddle with the pack omegas while they’re in pre-heat or you can wrestle with the alpha when they get too rowdy.

Chan quickly flips you two around, so your back is against the couch as he hovers over you. You’re held down for only a second before you roll both of your bodies off the couch and onto the floor. You know that it’s probably a bit childish to be rolling on the floor, play fighting like you’re still pups, but it’s clear Chan needs this and you don’t mind indulging in some fun every once in a while.

You can sense Chan’s scent getting thicker as he doubles his efforts, doing his best to overpower you. You’ve always liked the youngest alpha’s scent, a mix of spices like they’re being mortar and pestled right next to you. That’s one thing you’ve always been jealous of being a beta. You like not having to go through a heat or be so controlled by your instincts, but you always wished you had a strong scent. That your pack could better sense your emotions without having to say a word. Chan has always sworn you do have a scent, but you know it’s nothing like the one he has.

You’re not sure how but someone you and Chan are now completely on the other side of the room from the couch. Chan’s got his arms wrapped around your waist as you push at his head, your knee pushing against his stomach to get him off you.

Chan just barely loosens his grip on you, and you take the opportunity to pull yourself free, standing up quickly to regain some composure. Chan scrambles to his feet as well and you’re quickly throwing yourself at him again.

It’s clear that Chan is stronger than you, not only due to his size but also his orientation. That’s not going to stop you from trying to overtake him. You jump on his back, wrapping your legs around his waist as you hook your elbow around his neck, half choking him. Chan claws at your arm, trying to throw you off.

You’re stubborn though and only budge when Chan slams his back down onto the couch, crushing his weight on top of you. You dig your heels into his stomach and Chan squirms in your grip. You both eventually let up and Chan quickly spins his body around so he’s on top of you again. You reach up to grab him but his reflexes are quicker, slapping your hands out of the way so he can pin your shoulders down against the couch, the weight of his body heavy on top of your hips. You wiggle your hips though, trying to buck him off. You reach up and jab at his sides, forcing him to fall back off you.

You try to get up to try and push Chan down, but he gets the upper hand once more. He picks you up only to throw you back down onto the couch. You grab at him, pulling him closer, ready to throw both of you off the couch like you did earlier. Chan doesn’t allow though, holding you down so you can’t move at all. He stares down at you with a fire in his eyes.

And then you feel it. The distinguishable press of something hard against your thigh. Chan lets out a low groan and his hips rut forwards against your thigh even more, his strong scent suffocating your nostrils and throat.

“C-chan,” you gasp out. This seems to wake the boy up from the daze he was in and he quickly reels back from you, falling off the couch and onto the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his face quickly turning red. “I-”

You wrinkle your nose up at the way his scent turns sour, yet still tinged with arousal. You stare down at him on the floor, allowing your eyes to flick down to his crotch for only a second. His sweatpants protrude out, his hardened cock lying beneath the fabric.

You sniff the air once more, your mouth forming a small ‘O’ shape. “Are you…in pre-rut?”

Chan whimpers a bit, looking away from your piercing gaze. “I don’t know. I thought I still had another two weeks, but you know how irregular it can be for me. I- maybe you should go.”

“Are you sure?” You find yourself asking. You’ve never been a rut partner for anyone in your pack before. You’ve helped some of the omegas out before, but never an alpha. Not that you’d be opposed, especially if it was Chan.

“I mean, I think you’re right so like, it would be best if you weren’t here when I you know…succumb to the urges.” Chan shifts where he’s sitting, his hips lifting off the floor for a moment, exaggerating his bulge. You can see how he’s twitching to shove his hands down his pants.

“And what if I want to be here when you ‘succumb to the urges’?”

“Wh-what?” The sour scent in Chan’s smell fully disperses, the smell of his arousal increasing tenfold.

“Let me help you Channie,” you tell him softly, sinking to the floor next to him. “I know I’m not an omega, but betas can still be great rut partners. You can tell me fuck off you really want me to, but I know it will feel better if I’m here. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

“Shut up,” Chan grits out.

You’re a bit taken back. “Excuse me?”

“I said, shut up. If you keep talking like that I’m gonna fucking mount you.”

“And what if I want you to?”

That’s all it takes for Chan’s resolve to break. He lunges at you, pushing you so you fall back onto the floor. Chan climbs over you so his body covers yours. His nose is at your neck, biting and licking and sniffing all over.

Chan whines. “You smell so good, jagiya.” His hands grip your hips, holding you down.

The feeling of Chan’s mouth all over your bare skin as you wriggle under him, your panties quickly dampening.

As much as you love being a beta, when you presented you had one mortifying thought that you’ve never shared with anyone. You hated that you didn’t present as an omega, because that meant you weren’t able to mate with Chan. You get embarrassed whenever you think about that thought, but it comes to your mind again now as Chan ravages you. If only younger you could see you now.

Chan paws at your shirt, desperate to reveal even more skin. You help put him out of his misery, tugging the article of clothing over your head. Automatically Chan’s mouth lowers, licking over your chest, kissing right above your breasts.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Chan mutters, barely lifting his mouth off of you. “You don’t even know.”

“But I’m not-”

“An omega? I don’t care. You’re you and that’s all I need.”

Fuck. Chan’s words send goosebumps down your arms. God, you need him horrendously.

“Bedroom,” is all you can choke out. Chan picks you up and throws you over his shoulder before carrying you to his bedroom. He throws you onto the bed before shucking his own shirt off.

You’ve seen Chan shirtless plenty of times, but you’ll never not drool a little when you see his nicely formed torso. He’s got the typical alpha physique with a thick chest and rows of abs to spare.

“I’m going to fucking destroy you,” Chan growls, low and primal, making the obsessive need for Lee Chan grow under your skin. Despite your hesitations when you first presented, you’re glad you’re a beta, because if you were an omega you’d have fully soaked your panties and your shorts with slick by now.

Chan pushes his pants down his legs as well and you follow suit, leaving you both in nothing but your underwear. You can see the way Chan takes shallow breaths as he stares at your body, laid out and vulnerable for him.

Chan knocks himself out of his stupor and he descends on you, attacking you with his mouth. His tongue laves over your collarbones and his fingers dig into your hips. His scent is thick in the air as he works himself up more and more, getting closer to hitting his rut.

You feel Chan’s hands push up your torso and dip under your bra, pushing it up your chest to expose your breasts. Chan doesn’t hesitate to get to work, his fingers kneading at your boob, rubbing your sensitive nipple, while his mouth attaches to the other one. It reminds you of a hungry dog, though you guess that’s exactly what he is.

The alpha’s hips are positioned right over yours and you can feel his cock bump up against your clit. You’re sure he can feel your wetness through the thin layers of both of your underwear and you push your hips up a bit to get more friction. Thankfully Chan takes the hint and he trails his hand downward, shoving his hand into your panties to connect his fingertips to your clit. He rubs at it roughly and you throw your head back with a gasp as the pressure starts to satisfy the ache in your core.

“You smell so good,” Chan growls, his voice deep and thick. “Even without my hands on your cunt, I can smell how wet you are.”

Chan moves down the bed, so he’s in between your legs. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and strips them down your legs. You go to close your legs, embarrassed at being so exposed, and not enjoying the sudden chill of the air hitting your bare pussy, but Chan is quick to grip your thighs and pry your legs open once more.

The boy groans at the sight of your bare pussy exposed to him. “Baby,” he mumbles, “I need to taste you.” He grabs you by the ankles, pulling you closer to him so he can line his face right up to your cunt.

“Wait, wait,” you tell him. “Don’t focus on me, you’re the one in rut.”

“Not yet,” he says. “So let me have this.” With that he dives right in, his tongue licking a thick stripe right through your folds. You gasp, quickly clenching your thighs down around Chan’s head. This just makes Chan bury his head further between your legs, his lips wrapping around your clit. He sucks at the bud harshly, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine.

His mouth is messy against your cunt, kissing and licking and sucking wherever he can. You can hear the soft growls he emits from his throat, the sound getting more aggressive the more he licks at your pussy. Your body is already buzzing with pleasure and all you can do is whine as he pushes your legs apart further, feeding his fingers into your dripping entrance.

You can’t help but throw your head back, moans flowing freely from your mouth as Chan’s finger pushes deeper and deeper into you.

“Ch-chan!” You gasp as he brushes up against your g-spot. Your hand flies to the bed, gripping the sheets tightly as you lock your legs around his back.

The smell of arousal in the room increases, overtaking your senses and driving your mind further away from coherency. As Chan prolongs his time between your legs, you can feel his rut creeping closer. You know he feels it too, by the way he starts to get more restless, his hips rutting down against the mattress.

“Can’t take it any longer,” Chan grumbles as he finally pulls his head up from your legs. His face is slick with your arousal and there’s a dark look in his eyes. “Need to fuck your cunt.”

Suddenly Chan’s scent changes, completely overtaken by lust. You gasp as Chan shoves his boxers down his legs, his leaking cock releasing from the confines. It’s huge, larger than you were expecting, and you don’t have time to warn Chan to be careful because he’s lining himself up and pushing his tip in.

Unlike any normal omega, you’re not made to take alphas in rut, but Chan isn’t thinking clearly anymore and continues to push into you, ignoring the tight fit and doing his best to put it all in.

“Open up, baby,” Chan growls. “Let your alpha fuck you.” His thumb rubs at your clit mercilessly and you gasp and whine, doing your best to relax for his cock. Finally Chan is able to bottom out and he lets out a low groan at the feeling.

The alpha barely lets you adjust though, pull his hips back only to slam them back in. Your body is jostled at the sheer force of his thrust and this seems to entertain Chan, as he does it again and again, slamming into your cunt.

The feeling of his alpha cock inside of you has your mind reeling. You’ve never felt anything like it before and you need more, you want him to fill you up as much as he can, knotting you like you’re his omega.

“You’re so tight,” Chan says. “Pretty little beta pussy taking my alpha cock so nicely.”

The pace of Chan’s hips contrast his speech, like they have a mind of their own. His grip on your hips is tight, pinning you down to the bed so you stay in place for him to fuck into. You already feel so close to your orgasm, but you know Chan is only just starting, and even if he does cum, he’ll be insatiable for a while.

“A-alpha!” You squeal, your fingers digging into Chan’s back. You’re sure his whole back will end all scratched up, but you don’t think Chan will care too much.

Chan leans down, pressing his mouth all over your bare skin. His lips and teeth clash against your shoulder and chest as he nips and sucks all over, marking up your skin. He lets out soft whines as he does this and you run your hands through his hair, petting him like the pup he is.

The alpha’s mind is completely gone now, his only thoughts now being on his growing knot. For the first time in years you start to wish you were an omega, once again. You wonder how it would feel to get lost in pleasure the way they do, going dumb at the feel of an alpha’s cock filling them up. Just the thought of an alpha and omega mating, nothing in their minds but each other, you can’t help but yearn for that feeling.

Almost as if Chan can sense your thoughts, he nudges his nose right into your neck. You can feel his nostrils brush up against your scent gland as he whines into your neck. “You smell so good. Fuck baby, you’re so perfect for me. You know that? Fuck my pretty, perfect beta. Just for me.” Chan grabs your legs, hiking them up around his waist so he can fuck into you at a new angle. “Gonna breed your little cunt. Fill you up with my pups and get you so round and pregnant.”

“C-chan!” You gasp at his words. Your pussy betrays your mind though, clenching at the thought of being bred by Chan.

“See baby, you want it, you need it. And I need to give it to you. You’ll let me, right baby? You’ll let me give you all my pups?” Chan’s mouth strays dangerously close to your scent gland, his teeth teasing the spot.

You can barely think about his words, your mind only on the mating bite you wish he could give you. You know it won’t do much, not in the way it would with an omega, but god do you want it nonetheless. You’re not like Chan, you’re completely in the right headspace, not overtaken by your hormones, but you still want it. You want his bite and his pups and to be his. His beta.

“Fu-fuck, yes!” You cry out. “Breed me, please. Give me your knot.”

Like Chan was holding off until your word, Chan grips your hips tightly and pulls his hips back until he’s nearly pulled out, and with one fell swoop he thrusts his cock back into you, shoving his knot into you as he does. As soon as your cunt clenches down around his knot he’s milking himself into you, his cock twitching as you feel yourself fill up to the brim with his cum.

“Good girl, so fucking good,” Chan mumbles against your skin as his body sinks down against yours. He’ll be satisfied for now, but you’re sure he’ll need a few more rounds until his rut is completely ebbed away. “My pretty beta.”

“Channie,” you say, lifting his head up in your hands. Chan gets what you want and leans forward to kiss you, letting your lips slide together as he deepens the kiss.

When you two pull away Chan rests his head on your shoulder. His mind should be clearing up for the time being, at least until the next wave hits. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. I know I’m not-”

“Shhh, don’t. I don’t care if you're not an omega. You’re even better than one, okay? Because you’re you. My beta.”

You flush at the term. You’re not sure if it's still his rut brain talking, but from the way he’s nuzzling his nose right into your scent gland, you doubt it is. You want to talk about it with Chan, but you’re still stuck on his knot and you will be for the next day or so until he’s in his post-rut.

You’re not worried though, because from what you can tell, being Chan’s beta is way better than being any regular omega.

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