yongbbokkie - Tumblr blog

yongbbokkie · 20 days ago

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Ah, this is cute in a way that is hard to explain. Buttersweet, I guess. It's sad, obviously, but also, there's a bit of hope at the end... at least for the audience.

I really enjoy your writing and the way you capture the members. You have a way of making them feel real, while also giving them your own style.

I also like that you didn't really have a conclusion, but left it open-ended so the readers can make their own ideas about what might happen. And that also means you can come back to it, if you ever want to.

Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing, it was a pleasure to read.🥰🫰🩵

(warning: some spoilers in the tags)

Bluebell

"I had nowhere else I could go"

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

💐Bokkie's Garden M.list💐

genre: non!idol au, angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: swearing, cheating (mentioned), best friends fighting, drinking (barely), heart break

pov: 2nd person

pairing: jisung & reader

description: your best friend is trying to protect you from a secret that he knows will hurt you. the two of you get into a drunken fight with words better left unsaid. when the truth comes out, you can only think of one person to turn to.

word count: 8,066

a/n: i am so sorry for what you're about to read...it's kind of based on the most diabolical thing i read on twitter recently. or at least one particular line is...everything else was already in motion. you'll see what i mean later

"Are you guys driving up there or taking the train?" Felix asks before taking a sip of his drink—some mixed cocktail that he had already been drinking when you got to the bar.

"The train is faster and cheaper. Plus, I think it's more romantic." You lean forward and rest your elbow on the table, placing your chin in one hand. With the other, you stir your drink with your straw.

The bar is unsurprisingly quiet for a Thursday evening. Besides your group, only a few other people are lounging around. A couple sits in the corner, enjoying each other's company. A man sits alone with his head in his hands at the counter, a couple of empty bottles of soju sit in front of him. The bar owner has decent music playing that livens the atmosphere. On the TV, a baseball game plays quietly.

Every Thursday, the 9 of you meet up for drinks. Afterward, You all go out for dinner and catch up on what's going on in your lives. Thursday, as unconventional of a day to go out, is the only day when all of you can get together.

Seungmin, Minho, and Changbin are engrossed in a conversation on the other side of the table about something that happened at Changbin's job yesterday. You're on the other end of the table talking to Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Felix about your upcoming trip to Busan with your boyfriend this weekend. Chan sits in the middle, contributing a little bit to both conversations. How he's able to participate in both is something you can't even begin to understand. Your best friend, Jisung, sits beside you quietly drinking beer while completely lost in thought. He checked out of the conversation a few minutes ago, the effects of the beer most likely overtaking his mind.

"Do you think this is going to be the trip?" Hyunjin excitedly drums along to the song that's playing from the speakers on the table, a knowing smile creeps onto his face.

"The trip?" Jeongin furrows his eyebrows as he tries to figure out what Hyunjin is hinting at.

"I think he means," Chan sets his drink on the table and pauses for a moment, looking at you. "do you think he's going to pop the questions?"

Jisung scoffs beside you. When you turn to see what's going on with him, he's facing forward, staring at nothing and taking a large sip of his drink.

"In Busan?" Jeongin's exaggerated response pulls your attention back to the conversation.

"You're only saying that because you're from there and are immune to the true beauty and romance of the city." Felix pats Jeongin's shoulder lightly.

"Yeah, but there are better places to propose...like Jeju or Chuncheon. Busan? Where are you guys going to go? Gwangalli Beach—Ow!" Jeongin's hand flies to the back of his head and turns to Chan, betrayed and surprised by the sudden smack.

"It was a spontaneous trip right?" Hyunjin sits up quickly, shifting the direction of the conversation.

"Yeah,"

Your boyfriend came home last week and surprised you with train tickets. Three days and two nights in Busan. The two of you have gone on trips before, but they were trips the two of you planned together over time. It was completely unexpected, but not unwanted.

Things between the two of you had been awkward for the past couple of weeks. It was almost like he was avoiding you. He'd get up earlier and leave for work. Some nights he'd stay later to work overtime, leaving you to have dinner alone. Texts and calls were less frequent while arguments seemed to happen every time you were together. One time he got mad when he found you holding his phone when you were trying to find a picture the two of you took together from a previous date. Another time, he was complaining about how much time you were spending on your phone because the bill went up. You were worried that he'd come home one day and break up with you. But your worries dissipated when he mentioned the trip and he explained that's why things have been off.

"Well, if I was dating someone and I was ready to take that relationship to the next level, I'd plan a weekend getaway and pop the question." Hyunjin leans back into his chair, stretching his arms above his head.

Beside you, Jisung mumbles something under his breath that you didn't catch. Chan shoots him a confused before joining the other conversation.

"So Y/n," Felix sets his glass on the table and rests both of his elbows on the table. His chin rests in his hands as a smile spreads across his face. "If he does propose, would you say yes?"

"Hey, don't get their hopes up like that. What if he just wanted to take them on a trip?" Jeongin warns.

"Yeah, but they've been dating long enough that if he did propose, it wouldn't be completely unexpected," Hyunjin argues.

"Well, even if it doesn't end up being a proposal, I still think that you two make the cutest couple. Don't you guys agree?" Felix

"I think it's all fucking bullshit," Jisung mumbles louder. This time, you hear him.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem?" You snap. You move so fast you nearly knock your cup over.

Jisung doesn't look at you. Instead, he takes another sip of his drink and continues to face forward. He lets out a refreshed sigh as he finishes his drink. He sets his cup on the table a little too forcibly, making a loud thud that causes the conversation on the other end of the table to quiet down and look at what's going on. "Nothing,"

"Really?" You scoff in disbelief, turning your body towards him fully. "Because you've been weird pretty much the entire time I've been here and you've been making snarky comments the entire time."

Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, creating three little lines between his eyebrows. His lips press together into a fine line like he's trying to stop himself from saying something. After a moment, he lets out a deep sigh and opens his eyes. "Just forget it. It's nothing."

"No, you've been weird with me for the past couple of weeks and now you're sitting there muttering things under your breath. If you have a problem with me, just tell me."

"Drop it, Y/n."

“No, no, no. Clearly, something is on your mind and you need to say something about it. Go ahead, the floor is all yours.”

You continue to stare at Jisung, hoping that he’ll at least look at you. But still, his eyes are locked forward at something the one spot on the wall left bare. His jaw clenched, his arms crossed across his chest, his leg bouncing rapidly under the table, and heat radiating off of his body.

While you spend most of your free time with your boyfriend. Whatever remaining bits of freedom from work and general life admin is spent with Jisung. The two of you met back in university and became fast friends. The two of you did everything together. You spent countless hours in the library trying to complete assignments. You’d walk each other to class even if the other didn’t have classes until later in the afternoon. You were there to hype each other up with budding romances. And you were each other’s shoulder to cry on when those relationships failed. When graduation rolled around, the two of you got a place together. Which you only stayed at until you moved in with your boyfriend nearly two years ago. And until recently, the two of you remained close.

It came out of nowhere. You didn’t think much of it when he canceled on you while you were nearly at his place for your weekly Monday night movie night. He said he wasn’t feeling good and even after you offered to check on him, he was adamant about you not coming over. And when he couldn’t meet up during both of your lunch breaks on Wednesday, you figured he was still sick. So when he when he didn’t show up for the Thursday night meeting with the group, you brushed it off. He’d still answer your calls and texts but not for long. You thought something was wrong when the same thing happened the following week. You wondered if you had done something wrong to hurt his feelings but when you asked, he denied it. Still, he found excuses to not meet up this week. Today is the first time you’ve seen him in three weeks.

Sensing the sudden tension at the table, the conversation between Chan, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin dies. The rest of the group shift awkwardly in their seats as Felix leans over towards the other end of the table a tells them what’s happening. Chan looks between the two of you before saying something to Seungmin, who quickly disappears from the table. Chan clears his throat and cautiously pulls your and Jisung’s drinks away. “Maybe we should switch over to water, yeah?”

“I’m not drunk,” Jisung waves off the older man.

“Then why are you being such an ass?” You snap, quickly getting annoyed with your best friend.

“Hey, maybe you two should do this when there’s not a single drop of alcohol in your systems.” Minho interrupts this time.

“But Ji has something very important to tell me.” You turn your body towards Jisung, crossing your arms over your chest. “Maybe it has something to do with why he’s been avoiding me for almost 3 weeks.”

Jisung, still refusing to break eye contact with the wall, lays both of his hands palm down on the table. You don’t miss the slightest twitch in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. His leg is still bouncing under the table. His hands slowly ball up into small fists. “Drop. It.”

“Let’s play a game or something!” Felix claps his hands together loudly, hoping to cut the tension spreading in the room.

“If you’re mad at me, just say so. Don’t sit there all moody and muttering shit under your breath.”

“Leave it alone.” He uncurls his hands and lays them flat again.

You stare at your best friend one more time, hoping he will look at you. Moments pass and Jisung is still refusing to look at you. Instead, he continues to stare at the wall with his leg bouncing as he clenches and unclenches his hand.

Annoyed and over whatever temper tantrum Jisung is having, you grab your phone off the table, take some cash out of the back of your phone case, and toss it on the table. “Fine, whatever. I have to be up early for my trip tomorrow—“

“Don’t,” Jisung grabs your wrist to stop you from leaving. He finally looks up at you. His eyes are large and rimmed with tears threatening to fall out. After a moment, his hand slides down your wrist into your hand. “Please don’t go on that trip.”

“Why not?” You huff, still annoyed at whatever is going on with Jisung but still curious enough to know what's going on in your drunk best friend's mind.

His grip on your hand tightens as if that'll be enough to prevent you from leaving. But as he continues to stare at you, his eyes scanning your face, his mouth stays open, loosely hanging in an empty expression of despair. Like whatever he wants to say is on the tip of his tongue but some invisible force is preventing him from saying it.

You scoff as you yank your hand out of his and march straight towards the door. “Whatever,“

“He’s cheating on you.”

Your body reacts before your brain does. You freeze, hand on the doorknob while you try to process the words that just left Jisung's mouth to no avail. It's as if he's speaking a language you don't understand. They just keep bouncing around in your head as your brain tries to decipher the meaning of the words.

He's cheating on you.

Not a single person in the room breathes while you try to process Jisung’s words. The couple in the corner stops talking, trying to see what is going on with your group. The man fighting his demons has apparently paused the battle while trying to figure out what is going on. The bar owner clinks glasses together as she tries to pretend she’s in the kitchen. You're not exactly sure which one of your friends, maybe Felix, mutters a string of swears under their breath.

With your heart drumming in your chest, you turn around back to the table. Seungmin is back at the table, frozen behind Chan while holding two cups of water and his mouth hanging slightly open. Felix sits quietly with his tongue in his cheek, arms crossed over his chest like he's restraining himself but he can't hide the murderous blaze that's burning in his eyes. Hyunjin and Jeongin aren't any better with flared nostrils and muscles flicking angrily in their jaws as they both stare off into the distance. Chan watches you with a tenderness in his eyes that almost hurts. His hands betray him by exposing how angry he is with white knuckles and his hands rest clenched on the table. Minho stares at the half-empty bottle in front of him with his usual expressionless face, his hands fidgeting on the table like he's not sure which emotion should take priority. Changbin stares at you with brows furrowing in shared concern. Your eyes finally lock in on Jisung. His gaze carefully studying your face, searching for what isn't being said. Or maybe he was searching for a specific reaction.

"That's not funny." You whisper as you walk back to the table slowly. Your voice is tight and hoarse as you choke back tears. "Why the hell would you lie about something like that?"

"Why the fuck would I lie about that?" Jisung's eyes grow impossibly wide as his brows shoot up in surprise.

Your brain refuses to wrap around the fact that your boyfriend would cheat on you. The man who would give you his shoes when yours became unbearable on a night out. The man who took time off work to take care of you when you got sick. The man who could tell when you were having a bad day and would come home from work with your favorite food and ice cream and watch cheesy movies with you until you felt better. The man who will pause the show he's watching to explain the entire plot to you from the beginning so you can understand the joke he's about to tell you. The first man you told 'I love you' to and meant it full heartedly.

"I don't know, you tell me." You laugh dryly.

"Y/n, I would never try to hurt you deliberately like that." His voice is soft, almost like he's talking to a child trying to get you to understand.

"If he's cheating on me, why would he plan to take me away for the weekend?"

"Because he's a piece of shit." Someone, possibly Jeongin, grumbles.

His lips press together as he pauses for a moment. He lets out a deep breath that you're not even sure he knew he was holding in. He stands up and walks up to you. He places his hands on your shoulders and grips tightly. "I saw him myself. Three weeks ago. I saw him...being really friendly with some woman when I went to get our dinner for movie night."

"So...you want me to believe that my best friend allegedly caught my boyfriend cheating on me three fucking weeks ago and didn't say anything?"

“I know, I know but I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you. I confronted him that same night and told him that either he tells you or I do.”

“Hey, maybe we should—” Chan starts to try to calm everyone down but Changbin puts his hand on his shoulder to get him to stop.

“Did you guys know?” Your voice cracks, tears stabbing at the back of your eyes again as you turn to the rest of your friends. A chorus of denials and a wave of shaking heads fills you with a strange reassurance. Especially Minho, Jisung's other best friend. If he didn't even confide in the only other person he's closest to then maybe... "So it's just your word against his?"

"Well considering he hasn't even said anything, it's just my word. And that should tell you a lot." His tone, while slightly sarcastic, is gentle like he's trying to get you to understand.

"I think you're full of shit." You spit. Jisung's hands drop from your shoulders, falling defeatedly to his sides. He gawks at you in disbelief, like you're suddenly a stranger. "I think something else is going on with you and you want me to be as miserable as you. So you're making up some stupid story about my boyfriend cheating on me."

"Y/n—"

"No, no," Jisung waves off Minho and presses his lips together into a fine line. He walks back over to his seat and slumps into it. He refuses to meet your eyes, instead staring at the floor. "If they want to throw a tantrum and choose some piece of shit asshole who obviously does not give one single fuck about them, let them. I don't care anymore."

"Han—"

"I have to go get ready for my trip." Your voice cracks as you look back to the ceiling, blinking back tears. You let out a deep, shaky breath while holding back screams of frustration. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head before storming off to the door again, this time determined to leave.

"Whatever, just don't come crying to me when he breaks your heart!"

💐💐💐

Hwang Hyunjin was wrong, it was not the trip.

There was no fanciful proposal on Gwangalli Beach. But that doesn't mean the two of you didn't have an amazing trip.

You didn't sleep well the night before. You couldn't help staring at your boyfriend as he slept peacefully beside you while you kept thinking about what Jisung told you. Cheating would explain his recent behavior. The late nights, the private calls, the sudden change in his appearance. But as the trip went on, the more at ease you felt. Most of those behavioral changes also coincide with him planning the trip. Working overtime to afford the trip. Private calls with hotels and excursions to make sure everything is booked correctly. And it's perfectly normal for people to want to change their style and appearance.

He really did go all out for the trip. The two of you were only going to be there for three days, but it felt like a week. He booked a nice hotel with a beautiful view of Haeundae Beach. On the first day the two of you at lunch near the hotel and just wandered around, taking in your surroundings. Later that night you went on an evening cruise to look at the night viewpoints and fireworks after dinner. The next day, you two ate breakfast at the hotel and then went on a guided K-drama day tour. You got to spend most of the day pretending like you were a lead in a drama. It was more of an event for you, but your boyfriend had no problem taking pictures of you and pretending to be your main love interest. That night, you went to BIFF Square and ate street food for dinner. You even had time to buy some souvenirs. There wasn't much time left on the last day before you had to catch the train back to Seoul. So you went and had breakfast near the Sea Life Busan Aquarium and spent a couple of hours with the sea creatures, taking cute matching photos with them and even petting a sea lion. For lunch, you did a local cuisine cooking class and ate what you made. After that, all you had time left to do was to grab some food to go and take it with you on the train home.

The perfect weekend getaway.

"Wow, we got home just in time. It's really pouring out there." You close the front door, making sure to lock it before making your way back into the apartment.

It started sprinkling when the train pulled into Seoul. It started to rain a little more during your taxi ride back home. A few minutes ago, you started hearing the loud thuds of rainfall so you went to check how bad it was. You're not surprised, it being monsoon season and all, but you're glad the two of you didn't wait for a later train. Neither of you packed umbrellas and that short distance between the car and your apartment building would have been enough to soak both of you.

You walk quickly back to the kitchen and pull the whistling kettle off the stove. You pull some snacks out from the fridge and set them on a plate before pouring two cups of lemon and ginger tea. You're still in the clothes that you traveled in. You wanted to relax for a bit before settling out of vacation mode. You knew you would be tired after your trip so you requested tomorrow off. But still, being home is back to reality. You have so much laundry to do after this weekend and general organizing to do.

"Y/n, come here for a second." Your boyfriend calls from the living room.

"Okay," You put the cups and plate on a tray and bring them to the living room. You set the tray down on the coffee table. You offer your boyfriend a cup, which he politely declines before you nestle down on the couch with a cup. You can't hide the smile spreading across your face before taking a sip of your tea.

Your boyfriend sits across from you, rubbing the back of his neck. He's also still in his travel clothes. His hoodie is long gone, tossed haphazardly across the arm of the couch but he's still wearing the matching Busan shirt that you asked him to wear home with you. The two of you sit there in somewhat comfortable silence. After a couple of minutes, he clears his throat and looks you in the eyes. "I think it's time we end this."

"Wha...what?" Your voice quivers. Something in you cracks immediately. You're not if it's your heart or your soul. For all you know, it could be the tea cup in your hands. You lower the cup into your lap to keep your shaking hands from spilling it.

"This...this relationship is just...it's not working anymore." He admitted. There was something in his tone of voice that caught you. Like he was revealing something obvious.

"What do you mean?" Your voice cracks. You set your cup back on the table, no longer trusting your shaky figure. Pressure builds up behind your eyes but they stay dry.

"I just mean..." He sighs before readjusting his position on the couch. One foot is firmly planted on the floor while the other gets partially tucked under him. His body is turned more towards you. He takes one of your hands into his and gently strokes the back like he has hundreds of times over the years. "Look, I loved you at one point and now I don't. People change. Feelings change. That's just the way of life."

You yank your hand away from him, almost as if he burned you. "That doesn't make any sense. When did you—"

"A few months ago."

"A few months ago?"

"There's...um, there's no way around this so I'm just going to come out and say it. I've been seeing someone else."

"Jisung was telling the truth..." You whisper to yourself. The pressure behind your eyes builds up more, and your chest starts to ache like something heavy is crushing it.

"Y/n, I know this must be difficult to hear—"

"If you've been..." You swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump forming in your throat. "If you knew you were going to break up with me, why did we go to Busan?"

"Well," He chuckles nervously. His eyes begin to shift around the apartment, not focusing on anything in particular. He licks his dry lips before looking back at you. Something almost indescribable in his eyes. An apologetic look with a mischievous glint hiding behind it. "You normally give a dog one more good day before putting them down."

"Oh my God,"

Whatever little air that still in the room is gone. Sucked up into some black hole that refuses to swallow you as well. Your chest feels hollow as whatever cracked earlier shatters into small bits of dust also being sucked into the black hole. The ache in your chest grows into a sharp burn now that there's more space to attack. And still, your eyes remain dry.

"I know we share the apartment and everything but—"

"I...I...I can't do this right now. I can't be here. I—I—I need to get out of here." You force yourself off of the couch and all but run to the front door.

"Y/n—"

💐💐💐

You’re not sure how long you’ve been walking around aimlessly. It’s dark outside, the only light coming from cars, streetlights, and nearby buildings is not enough to help you navigate the streets through the heavy rain. You’re soaked to the bone, having grabbed nothing when you left earlier. You didn't even stop to put on proper shoes, leaving you to walk through the streets in your house slippers. You lost one a while ago and kicked off the other one in frustration. Walking barefoot doesn’t hurt as much anymore with your feet as numb as you are right now.

You still haven’t cried. Your life as you know has shattered into a million pieces but you know you don’t deserve to cry. You were warned and you chose to ignore it. Now you have to suffer.

You’re not sure where to go. Most of your friends live on the other side of town. If you tried to walk to their house, you’d show up in the morning if you’re lucky. You can’t remember if you took your phone out of your pocket or not. Even if you didn’t it’s either dead or broken from all of the rain so you can’t order an Uber. You’re certain you don’t have your wallet. You remember putting it in the front of your backpack after you got your train ticket earlier so you wouldn’t lose either of them. You haven’t seen a single bus for a while. Not even one of the night buses, so even if you had your wallet you couldn’t take one. Only one person lives within walking distance from your apartment. And while you’re certain you strayed too far from the path to his apartment, he most likely doesn’t want to see you.

All the warmth has long since left your body, leaving you shivering and wrapping your arms around yourself. Part of you wants to give up. What you can still feel in your body is exhausted. Another part of you needs to keep going.

So you do. Your legs walking almost robotically down the street. Into a building across the street from a 24-hour convivence store that you vaguely recognize. They take you to an elevator where your hands, now also taking a life of their own, press various buttons: one to call the elevator another to close the door, and the final one takes you up the elevator. Once you get to the floor your body wants to go to, your legs are off again twisting and turning a few corners. They stop when they reach a door. Apartment 914. Your arms spring back to life leaving two firm knocks on the door. Before your brain can catch up and realize where you are, the door swings open.

Jisung stands in front of you in an oversized faded long-sleeve I Want to Eat Your Pancreas shirt that you two found thrifting one day paired with black sweatpants. He chews on his lower lip subconsciously, one eyebrow raised and head cocked while he stares at you.

“Y/n, what are you…Wait, you're drenched. Did you walk in the storm?” Jisung doesn't hesitate pulling you into his apartment and shutting the door behind you.

“I had nowhere else to go.” You whisper. Or at least, it feels like a whisper. Your voice is dull and distant, almost like you're not even there.

Jisung leaves you in the entryway and disappears further into his apartment. A couple of seconds later, Jisung reappears with a large towel. You reach out to take it from him but he ignores your hand, wrapping the towel around you himself. He hurriedly dries your head first, making to give extra attention to your hair. When he finishes drying your hair the best he can, he pulls the towel down over your torso. He helps pat you down with the damp towel as best as he can.

“Where are your shoes?” He asks incredulously, nearly yelling and waking up his neighbors.

You look down at your feet and wiggle your numb toes. You haven't felt your feet in so long, that you forgot that you lost your shoes.

“Probably in the Han River by now.” You joke, your voice hollow and empty, as though there is nothing left inside. Maybe there isn't anymore. Maybe your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—took everything in those few minutes.

Jisung watches you for a moment, trying to read you. The corner of his eyes soften, three faint lines appear between his brows as he pouts at you. He's beyond worried. You show up unexpectedly in the middle of the night sopping wet with rain water like a zombie from a horror movie. Only, you're not trying to eat his brains. You're not doing much of anything. You're paler than he's used to seeing you, even in the winter. The usual brightness in your eyes that he's grown accustomed to faded away, leaving a dull and lifeless gaze. He's not even completely sure you're actually with him right now. For all he knows, he could have fallen asleep on his couch while watching TV and is currently dreaming.

Noticing you starting to zone out a bit more, Jisung taps your cheek to get your attention. At the first tap, he immediately yanks his hand away, staring at it for a moment before turning back to you. Slowly, he moves his hand to your face. He gently places his palm on your cheek. His hand, warm and soft, rests there for a second while his eyes widen in alarm. His other hand flies up to your forehead. “Hey, you’re ice cold.”

Jisung runs his hand through his hair as he looks around his apartment for a moment, looking for—who knows what—before pulling you away from the entrance and further into the warmth. With his hand in yours, grip firm like he'll lose you if he doesn't, he tugs you along with him as he walks to the bathroom. He quickly walks over to the shower and turns it on, letting the water warm up before he moves around the bathroom. He moves around quickly, almost panicked, as he pulls you behind him so he can grab your stuff under the cupboard: the stuff you normally use for showers. Out of habit, Jisung bought them the first shopping trip he went on after you moved out. Now they sit waiting for you just in case. You've only used them a handful of times since then when you went straight to his place to hang out after work.

Something else cracks inside you as you watch your best friend flutter around the bathroom. The two of you fought four days ago. It was probably the worst fight the two of you have ever had. It was definitely the first real fight the two of you have gotten into with each other. And looking back at it you were the worst offender. He tried to warn you about your boyfriend and you accused him of lying. Han Jisung. Your best friend. The one person who you know for a fact has never told you a single lie the entire time that you've known him. You chose your boyfriend over him and yet, here he is trying his best to take care of you when he should have told you to fuck off and slammed his door in your face.

"Ha-Hanji..." You whimper, your jaw trembling as you grasp the hemp of his shirt with your free hand.

"Hm...?" His back is still to you as he sticks his hand under the water, checking to see how hot it is.

You sniffle one...two...three times to keep the tears welling up in your eyes from falling. But no amount of sniffling can stop the tear that briskly escapes, running down your face as quickly as the rain falls from the sky. More tears run down your face as you grip more of Jisung's shirt. Weakness, exhaustion, and all of the emotions that you haven't let yourself feel for the past few hours finally take over your body, causing your knees to collapse. Jisung quickly spins around and catches you before you hit the floor hard. You open your mouth to speak but instead, a choked sob escapes from somewhere deep inside you. Jisung doesn't say anything as he drops your hand and snakes his arms around you in a tight embrace. Like he can squeeze all of the pain and heartache away. Or at the very least, absorb it so you don't have to suffer more than you already have.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” You gasp between sobs, trying to fit words in when you can.

“H-hey, it’s okay. I don’t care about that.” You're not sure how it's possible, but Jisung hugs you tighter as you gasp between cries, barely able to catch the breath needed for the next. He's thankful that your cries are drowning out his own sniffling as he rests his chin on your shoulder. "I got you now, okay?"

The two of you sit like that for a while in the ambiance of the shower and your tears. Or maybe it's a few minutes. You're not entirely sure how much time is passing. All you know is that today is the longest day of your life so far. Jisung doesn't rush or shush you. He lets you cry and alternates between rubbing and patting your back while he hums one of your favorite songs as he tries to console you. Eventually, you calm down enough to revert back to sniffling.

"Y/n...you're going to get sick," Jisung calls softly as he loosens his hold on you. He leans back a bit so you can meet his red, glassy yet dry eyes. He pulls his sleeve into the palm of his hand and pats your face dry. “Let's get you out of these wet clothes and then you can take a hot shower to warm up a bit, yeah?”

Out of tears and low on energy, you pull yourself out of Jisung's arms and nod as you rub your eyes with the back of your hands. Jisung stands up just and helps you pull yourself off of the floor. He puts the rest of your things in the shower for you. He quickly puts a fresh towel on the rack for you before he leaves you alone in the bathroom, closing the door tightly behind him.

You take one deep, labored breath before peeling off your wet clothes and leaving them in a soggy pile on the floor near the door. You waste no time walking into the steaming hot shower. The shock from the temperature change stings against your skin at first but the pain quickly subsides as your body adapts to the warmth draping over you. You stand there for a moment letting the water hit you as you stare at the shower walls, tinted blue from Jisung's new shower curtains. They were green when you lived with him because of an argument you won.

"Green is calming and so are showers so it just makes more sense."

Knock, knock.

“Y/n," Jisung cautiously calls into the bathroom, not wanting to completely invade your privacy. "I'm leaving some clothes for you on the counter.”

You mumble out a string of words that you hope are some version of a 'thank you' before you hear the door click shut again.

💐💐💐

When you step out of the bathroom roughly 20 minutes later in the clothes Jisung left for you, a pair of your sweat pants and a shirt you left at his apartment for sleepovers, you find Jisung sitting outside the bathroom with another towel in his lap. He slides his phone back into his pocket and stands up quickly. He changed his shirt into a plain white t-shirt with a logo in the corner that's mostly peeled off.

"I tossed your clothes in the washer for you. Your phone and keys were in your pockets. Your phone is sitting in rice as we speak.." He announces as he pulls you into the living room.

"Thanks," You croak, your voice hoarse. Whether it's from the rain, your crying, or a combination of the two, you're not entirely sure.

He leads you to the couch, forcing you to sit before tossing the towel over your head and running off to the kitchen. You settle into your seat and pull the towel off your head just as Jisung kneels down in front of the coffee table, a kettle in one hand and two bowls of Shin Ramyun in the other.

"I know you like to do the whole air-drying thing, but you're going to have to dry your hair really well tonight. If you die of hypothermia in my apartment I will raise your body from the dead and kill you myself." He jokes while pouring hot water into both bowls.

You roll your eyes as you bring the towel back to your head and begin drying your hair half-heartedly.

"Ah, not like that—Hold on," He places the kettle on a coaster and yanks the towel out of your hands.

He stands up next to you and begins vigorously rubbing the towel against your head. You get pulled and jerked in several directions as he tries to make sure he covers every part of your scalp.

"You know, I might get sick faster if I'm bald." You mutter under your breath as a few strands of hair get yanked clean off.

"Okay, okay, sorry." He releases your head before thinking quietly for a minute. You're startled by a sudden clap. "Oh, I'm so fucking stupid. Wait a minute."

The towel falls to the floor and Jisung runs out of the room. Not even a minute later he's back with a hair dryer in his hands. He walks to the back of the couch and plugs the hair dryer in the outlet. You hear the loud whirling of the machine go off for a second as he checks to make sure it works before he clumsily climbs over the couch, nearly falling off of it.

Jisung quietly dries your hair for you on a low setting so you're not overwhelmed by the noise and so that he can hear you if you decide to start talking. Halfway through, you do. You tell him about the trip that only a few hours ago held a special place in your heart. Now, there's a bitter taste in your mouth as you recount each detail. Slowly, you tell him about what happened when you got home. Not everything just what your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—said at the end right before you stormed out.

"I'm going to beat his ass," Jisung mutters under his breath as he shuts the hair dryer off, setting it off to the side.

"I think you might lose there." You lean over to the table and grab one of the bowls of soggy noodles.

"Hey, I've bulked up recently since I started working out with Chan hyung and Changbin hyung...I'll get one good hit in at least before he knocks me out." He takes the other bowl and starts mixing it around. "I'm sorry your ex is a massive piece of shit."

You set your bowl on your lap as you stare at it for a moment. You watch the vegetables swirl around the broth as guilt brews in the pit of your stomach. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you..."

"You know, I was really pissed off at first." He shoves a mouth full of noodles in his mouth and chews for a bit while he thinks about his words. He swallows half of what's in his mouth and starts again. "But when I sobered up a bit and really, truly sat there and thought about it, I realized that I would have most likely done the same thing if the roles were reversed. Nobody wants to believe that the person they love wholeheartedly would betray them like that."

"Yeah...but still—"

"Nope, not doing that. Just shut up and eat. You warmed up the outside of your body, now you need to warm the inside."

💐💐💐

After the two of you eat and Jisung forces you to take a shot of ginger, turmeric, lemon, and honey—payback for all the times you make him do it to prevent him from getting sick—he takes you to his room. He cleaned it a bit while you were in the shower. Not a lot, but enough so you don't trip at least. As you settled into his bed, he tossed one of his hoodies that he threw in the dryer so it would be warm. You recognized it right away as the one hoodie of his that you two would fight over frequently. An oversized black hoodie with an image of two, what you assume, herons on the front. You've stolen it from him so many times that he started keeping a close eye on his clothes when you lived together.

Once you settled into the bed, Jisung shuts off the light and starts to leave the room.

"You're not staying?" You whisper. The two of you have slept on the same bed before. Once when the neighbor above you had a leak that was directly over your bed and a few times during sleepovers. It's second nature to the two of you by now.

Jisung pauses at the door for a moment, his silhouette outlined by the living room light. His finger quietly taps along the door frame as he thinks. "You had an eventful weekend. I thought you might want some space to...decompress or whatever."

"If I decompress or reflect or just sit here with my thoughts, I will spontaneously combust." You force a chuckle, the strained laughter unable to fully mask the underlying disgust in your voice. "Can you stay...please? I really, really don't want to be alone tonight."

"Of course. Just let me give me a couple of minutes to shut everything off." Jisung doesn't wait for you to respond. He doesn't need to.

You lay on your back, staring at the black ceiling. The low hum of Jisung's fan rings through the room. You rub her temples with a gentle, circular motion, seeking relief from the persistent ache that started throbbing behind your eyes halfway through your meal. A sigh turns into a yawn as you think about every decision that led you to this exact moment: heartbroken in your former apartment with your best friend.

"Hey, tomorrow we can head over you your place with whoever is free and get your stuff. Or if you're not up to it, you can just tell me what you want to grab and we'll get them for you. You can move back here, your room is still free." Jisung yawns as he walks back into the room.

You hum a response, not caring at this point what happens. You're too drained to think about it anymore. Your eyes quickly start to pull shut when the familiar scent of Jisung's body wash and shampoo hits your nose.

And yet, despite how much fatigue takes control over your body, a small thread begins to unravel in your brain. You think back to every moment in your relationship. Every gift. Every kiss. Every 'I love you.' You know what they meant to you. The joy that would radiate through your body for every little "just because" gift he gave you. Flowers that he said he saw on his way home that he knew you'd like. A little trinket that caught his eye that reminded him of you. Something you mentioned once in passing that he remembered and picked up for you. Every little kiss good morning he peppered you with when you started to stir while he was getting ready for work. The random kisses he would give you throughout the day because he felt like being as close to you as possible in that moment. The good night kiss he'd give you as you crawled into bed. The first time he said "I love you" when you were cooking dinner for him for the first time. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. And even though you had flour in your hair and you were on the verge of tears because of how disastrous the night had gone, he looked at you with the most awe-stricken eyes and said those three big words. Every single "I love you" he uttered every time you started rambling about something you were interested in. The random "I love you" calls and texts throughout the day that always seemed you find you when you were down. Was that all conditional? After thoughts? Replacements? "Here's a gift because I screwed up and cheated on you." "Here's a kiss because you're right here but I rather kiss someone else right now." "I love you...until I find someone else."

You didn't realize you were tossing and turning until Jisung's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him and trapping you in one position. The soft, gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against his chest gives you something else to focus on, slowly quieting your thoughts. His fingers softly drum a song against your back that you're not even going to try to figure out.

"Hanji," Your voice soft and weak.

"Yeah?" His voice is equally as quiet, his voice laced with sleep.

"I'm done...I can't go through this again. I can't get hurt like this again.

His fingers stop moving along your hack for a moment as he thinks to himself. For a second, you think he fell asleep. Or that he was asleep the whole time and he answered subconsciously. But his fingers start again, playing a new song. Something familiar but the name escapes you.

"Somewhere out there, there's a guy so stupidly in love with you that it hurts to watch. And one day, when you're ready...when all of this is behind you...you'll find you. And he's going to shower you with all of the love and attention you deserve. So much so that you're not going to remember this little speed bump. You won't remember how you feel or what was said or even the name of the guy who fucked it all up."

"I don't think that'll happen." Your voice droned in a weary monotone.

"I know so," Jisung says definitively. Like he can look into the future and knows what he's talking about.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Hm...just a feeling. Take my word for it." He shifts around a bit before leaning down and pressing a kiss into your head. "Now go to sleep. If we wake up early enough, we can egg his car before he goes to work."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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#minho trying to step in but jisung waving him off is so minsung #amd the members immediately going into defence mode on y/ns behalf #cute #exbf gotta watch his back #she got eight protectors #and at least three know martial arts #most of them lift #and one is Kim Seungmin #he doesn't know what's coming for him #hehehe #also that last bit where hanji sort of not quite confesses his everlasting love for her #i melted #ahshajajajsnaksjanjaks #cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute #i hope it hits her like a ton of bricks one day amd she finally understands and all the boys are just like... yeah? obviously?!#hahaha #felix slapping himself on the forehead #chan looking at her with soft bemusemest and never ending patience #ah #i love it #anyway #a really good story #that prompt is great #and anyone who uses that line is a pile of shit #feelbokkie writes #feelbokkie fanfic #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids #stray kids fanfic

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yongbbokkie · 3 months ago

Text

agshsjakajsjakahxsjajaa aaaaahhhhhh dead dead dead im dead so dead this was amazing I'm hyperventilating oh my god

WET ‘n’ WILD

Pairing: Bestfriend! Chan x Reader

Tags: Smut, feelings realization, accidental voyeurism, subtle seduction, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, breeding (idk what’s wrong with me), oral

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Chan and you have always been best friends, sharing everything from inside jokes to travel plans. But when you take a trip together and end up in the same hotel room, things start to shift. After an accidental reveal in the bathroom—where Chan sees you in a way he never expected—he can’t seem to shake the image of you.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn’t knock.

Of course he didn’t knock.

You should’ve locked it—you knew that. But you were in a rush, hair wet and clinging to your back, steam curling around your shoulders as you stood beneath the spray, eyes closed, miles away from reality.

Until the door opened.

And in walked Chan.

Shirt half off. AirPods in. Whistling.

He didn’t even notice you at first.

You turned, shampoo dripping down your forehead, blinking water out of your eyes as his figure passed the mirror—and froze.

A beat.

Then another.

His head tilted.

And then you watched his jaw drop.

Because the shower was glass.

Clear. So fucking clear.

And you were completely naked.

“Oh—shit—” He yanked an AirPod out, eyes going wide like he was staring down a demon.

“Chan—!” you yelped, covering yourself too late, spinning toward the wall with a slap of skin on tile. “Get out!”

He stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“I—I didn’t know you were in here—I couldn’t hear—fuck, I’m sorry!”

He slapped a hand over his eyes.

But not before you caught the way his gaze had dropped. Lingering.

“Chan!”

“I’m leaving—I’m leaving!”

The door slammed shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Your heart pounded in your throat.

His face when he saw you—not just shocked… stunned. Like he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you were anything other than his best friend. Like he’d never imagined you had curves, softness, skin like that.

Like he’d just discovered a whole new you.

And suddenly, sharing a bed tonight didn’t feel so harmless anymore.

You wrapped a towel around yourself with shaking hands, your skin still flushed—not just from the heat of the water, but from the look on his face.

That stunned, wrecked, “holy shit she’s hot” look.

You’d never seen him look at you like that.

You cracked the bathroom door open a sliver, peeking out.

He was across the room, pacing like a man on the verge of an existential crisis, hands on his head, shirt still bunched halfway up his chest, and his AirPods now clutched in a death grip.

When he saw the door move, he flinched like you were holding a gun.

“I swear I didn’t mean to!” he blurted. “I—I wasn’t looking!”

You stepped out, towel hitched high on your chest, dripping onto the carpet.

“Chan.”

His eyes did a quick flick—towel, legs, towel again—then snapped to the ceiling like it offended him personally.

“I didn’t know the shower was—was like that. I thought the glass was—was frosted or something!”

You crossed your arms. “You literally built like a Greek god but you’ve never seen a naked body before?”

He let out a strangled laugh. “Not yours, I haven’t!”

Silence.

Your heart thudded.

Not yours.

You watched the realization hit him in real time—how loud that sounded, how different it felt saying that out loud.

He looked at you then.

Actually looked.

And his gaze did something… weird. Like it didn’t know whether to apologize or worship.

You swallowed.

“Do you… need the bathroom now or?”

He blinked. “Uh—no. Nope. I’m good. I can hold it. Forever, probably.”

You turned, heading toward your suitcase, pretending your heart wasn’t jackhammering against your ribs.

Behind you, you heard him mutter to himself:

“Why is her ass like that…”

You froze. “What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Yeah. Nothing.

Except everything had changed.

You’d dried your hair in silence.

He’d scrolled his phone on the edge of the bed like it was going to save his life.

Neither of you spoke about the glass. Or your body. Or the way he stared like he’d seen a forbidden fruit and accidentally took a bite.

By the time you slipped into your sleep shirt—long, soft, just barely enough—he’d already tucked himself under the covers and pretended to scroll through TikTok, screen dimmed, thumb unmoving.

You climbed in beside him, careful not to touch.

The air was thick.

He was stiff.

In more ways than one.

Chan lay on his back, arms above his head like he was physically restraining himself. You could feel the heat rolling off him, the tension coiled in every inch of his body.

He hadn’t said a word since you turned off the light.

But he hadn’t stopped looking.

You were facing the wall, pretending to sleep, when you felt it. The tiniest brush of fabric—his shirt sleeve barely grazing your arm.

A jolt lit up your spine.

You didn’t move.

He did.

Another shuffle. His leg shifted. The bed dipped just slightly closer. His breathing hitched.

You rolled over.

He flinched like you caught him red-handed.

Your faces were close now. Just inches apart in the dark, your features soft in the moonlight through the window.

“Chan,” you whispered.

He stared at you like he was watching a horror movie and a porno at the same time.

“I’m fine,” he said too fast. “Everything’s fine. This is fine.”

Your eyes flicked down.

Oh.

There was no mistaking it now.

The very obvious, very hard outline straining against his sweats.

You raised a brow.

“Is it… uncomfortable?”

He let out the weakest, most pathetic laugh you’d ever heard.

“Uncomfortable isn’t the word,” he muttered, slapping an arm over his face. “I’m dying.”

“Because of me?”

Silence.

Then a groan.

“You can’t just look like that,” he hissed. “Like—you’ve always been hot, okay? I just didn’t realize you were built to ruin me until today.”

Your breath caught.

And you felt it—his restraint crumbling, the tension snapping like a rubber band stretched too far.

You shifted.

A little too close.

Your thigh brushed his.

His jaw locked.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he asked hoarsely.

You leaned in, your voice a whisper in the dark. “Doing what?”

He let out a low curse.

And then—your knee nudged his thigh. Just a little. Accidental. Maybe.

But the noise he made?

Absolutely not accidental.

Low.

Guttural.

“Don’t—don’t move like that,” he begged, voice strained. “I’m seriously one shift away from embarrassing myself.”

You bit back a smile.

Then shifted again.

This time, deliberately dragging your leg across his thigh, grazing right over the problem area.

His hand shot out and gripped your hip.

Hard.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Unless you want me to lose every last bit of control I’ve got left.”

You didn’t answer.

But you didn’t move away either.

And neither did he.

—

Chan had always thought of you as his best friend.

No complications. No weird tension. Just you.

But that was before he saw you in the shower.

Now? Every single second felt like psychological warfare.

He first noticed it in the elevator.

The way your sundress clung to your hips, the curve of your ass shifting when you leaned over to press the button. The little dip of cleavage just peeking out when you turned your head.

He swore he didn’t look.

But he did.

And once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He noticed it at brunch.

You laughed at something one of your friends said, leaning forward on your elbows. And he swore to god—the way your breasts pressed against your top? Unholy.

He had to excuse himself and splash cold water on his face.

He noticed it again at the museum.

When you bent to tie your shoe and your shirt lifted just enough to show your lower back. That tiny flash of skin was enough to send a pulse straight to his groin.

He kept trying to think of math. Taxes. His childhood trauma.

Nothing worked.

And then, of course, came nightfall.

He stood in front of the bed like it was a trap.

You crawled under the covers in that same oversized sleep shirt, brushing your hair out of your face, oblivious to the way his soul was crumbling.

“Night, Channie,” you said sweetly.

“Night,” he choked, voice cracking like a boy going through puberty again.

He lay stiffly on his side of the bed, hands folded over his chest like he was at a funeral.

Because it was a funeral.

Of his sanity.

Of his ability to think of you like a normal friend ever again.

He tried not to breathe when you shifted in your sleep.

Tried not to feel when your leg brushed his.

Tried not to imagine sliding that shirt up your thighs and finding nothing underneath.

He failed. Every time.

And still—he didn’t touch you.

But god, did he want to.

⸻

You were in a tank top now. No bra. Chan could see the outline when the air conditioning kicked in. He nearly spilled his drink trying to look away.

He avoided eye contact the entire morning.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded too fast. “Yep. Great. Fine.”

He was not fine.

He was edging. Emotionally.

You came back to the room early while he was changing.

He had just dropped his towel when you walked in with a bag of takeout and froze in the doorway.

Your eyes widened.

Chan nearly dislocated a hip trying to cover himself.

You blinked, then said, “Oh.”

Just—oh.

You turned around like it was nothing.

He, on the other hand, had to sit down for five minutes and reevaluate his existence.

Now she’s seen me too.

And the worst part?

He wanted you to look again.

⸻

The afternoon sun was unforgiving, golden and heavy as it beat down on your shoulders.

You adjusted your sunglasses, sipped your drink, and stretched out on your lounger—legs bare, back glistening, swimsuit snug in all the right places.

Chan sat nearby in board shorts and regret, pretending to scroll his phone while sneaking glances like a pervert in training.

You caught him once.

He looked away so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

You smiled.

“Hey,” you said, flipping onto your stomach. “Can you help me with sunscreen?”

His head snapped up.

“Wh—what?”

You held out the bottle. “My back. And, like… everywhere else I can’t reach.”

You were facing away from him now, bikini riding low on your hips, legs spread just enough to make him forget his own name.

Chan swallowed.

“Y-Yeah. Sure. Of course. Yeah.”

He knelt beside you, squeezed some sunscreen into his hand, and tried not to hyperventilate.

The first touch was careful.

Gentle.

His palms gliding across your shoulder blades, working the lotion in with slow, cautious movements. You were warm beneath his hands—soft and smooth and dangerous.

He moved lower.

To the small of your back.

Then down.

To your waist.

Your hips.

He hesitated at the top of your thighs, fingers twitching.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t stop him.

So he continued.

Hands sliding down the back of your thighs—kneading, pressing, lingering.

You let out the tiniest exhale when his fingers grazed too close to the edge of your bikini bottom.

His hands paused.

You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

But your thighs clenched.

And his cock twitched.

He cleared his throat, voice tight. “You, uh… you want me to do your legs too?”

You hummed. “If you don’t mind.”

Oh, he minded.

He minded so desperately.

Because now he was smoothing lotion down your calves, back up your inner thighs, fingertips dangerously close to a line he shouldn’t cross—and his dick was practically fighting for freedom in his shorts.

You shifted slightly.

Just enough to press back into his hands.

His breath hitched.

“You’re playing with fire,” he muttered.

You turned your head, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses, but your smirk unmistakable.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have come near the flame.”

He sat back like you burned him.

But the damage was done.

And that night? That bed?

There was no pretending anymore.

Not when his hands had already memorized your skin.

⸻

You were only meant to rinse off.

Quick shower. No big deal.

But of course, the universe had other plans—and the tiny metal clasp of your bikini top had declared war.

It was stuck.

Tangled in the curls at the nape of your neck, pulling and snagging no matter how gently you tried to free it. You twisted, yanked, whined under your breath—but the more you fought it, the worse it got.

You were officially topless, wet, and trapped.

Awesome.

You sighed and stared at yourself in the mirror, arms folded over your chest.

There was only one option.

“Chan?” you called, wincing.

A pause.

Then his muffled voice from the other side of the door: “Yeah?”

You exhaled. “I, um… I need your help.”

“Everything okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “The clasp’s caught in my hair and I can’t get it out.”

A beat of silence.

“…Are you naked?”

You huffed. “I’m trying not to be.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then: “Okay. Yeah. Coming in. I’m not looking—I swear I’m not—”

The door cracked open and he stepped in, eyes averted, one hand shielding his vision like a Victorian maiden scandalized by ankles.

You couldn’t help laughing. “Chan.”

He peeked.

And then he froze.

Because there you were.

Hair dripping. Skin flushed. Bikini bottoms still clinging to your hips—but your top was hanging awkwardly from your neck, one arm twisted back, hands barely covering your breasts.

“Don’t stare,” you said, cheeks hot.

He blinked rapidly. “I’m not. I’m—fuck, I’m trying.”

You turned, exposing the tangled mess. “Just get the clasp, okay?”

His hands trembled as he stepped closer, fingers brushing the wet strands of your hair.

He was so careful.

So quiet.

But the moment his knuckles grazed the slope of your spine—your breath hitched.

And he felt it.

All of it.

The tension. The heat. The barely-covered body standing inches away.

His fingers paused.

You whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“I…” His voice cracked. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart pounded.

“Chan…”

He turned you around, slowly, still holding the strap—his eyes dark, jaw clenched.

Your hands instinctively covered your chest again, but he caught your wrists gently, easing them away.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered.

Your lips parted.

And then—

His gaze dropped.

To your breasts.

To your waist.

To the water trickling down your skin, beading between curves he’d only touched through fabric—imagined, fantasized about.

He was completely fucked.

And he knew it.

You reached for him first.

And when your hand met his chest, he shuddered.

The next second was a blur—he grabbed your face, kissed you like he’d been holding his breath for years, like he was starving and you were the feast.

Your back hit the bathroom counter.

His hands were everywhere—cupping, kneading, memorizing what he’d only dreamed of. Tongue licking into your mouth, hips pressed firm between your legs, his cock thick and hard and grinding against your soaked bikini bottoms.

He pulled back, breath ragged.

“I’ve wanted you every night since that shower,” he rasped.

You smirked, lips swollen. “Which one?”

He growled.

“Get in bed,” he said, lifting you like you weighed nothing. “I’ll show you.”

He didn’t make it to the bed.

Didn’t even try.

Because the second you reached between your bodies—fingers bold, cupping the heavy length straining against his swim shorts—Chan snapped.

His breath hitched, hips jerking forward like you’d electrocuted him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice low and wrecked. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You bit your lip, hand squeezing gently.

“Maybe I do.”

That did it.

He hauled you onto the counter in one fluid, desperate motion—bikini bottoms dragged down in a flurry of wet fabric, discarded somewhere on the tile. You gasped at the chill of the marble under your bare ass—but Chan was hot, burning between your thighs, and he stepped in close, slotting his hips to yours.

His mouth was everywhere.

Kisses rough and endless, biting down your throat, teeth scraping your collarbone, hands gripping your thighs like he could mold you to him.

And then—he paused.

Looked at you.

His gaze dropped to your chest.

And he groaned—deep and guttural—like the sight of your tits was something he’d dreamed of too many times and was now seeing in high-def reality.

“Fuck, baby…” he whispered, reverent. “These… god—”

He dipped his head.

And feasted.

Tongue flicking over your nipple, lips wrapping around it, sucking so fucking deep you arched with a cry.

Your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging as he kissed and licked and moaned into your skin, worshipping you with his mouth like your tits were salvation and he was begging for forgiveness.

Every flick of his tongue sent a pulse straight to your core.

You were already soaked.

Already panting.

And then he slid two fingers inside you without warning—curling, pressing, thrusting slow as he suckled your other nipple—and you saw stars.

“Chan—fuck, oh my god—”

“That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “Let me hear you.”

You were shaking.

Legs trembling as he fucked you with his fingers, mouth never leaving your chest, his cock hard and leaking against your thigh through his shorts.

“You’ve been teasing me for days,” he growled, biting gently. “Walking around like you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I didn’t,” you gasped, “not really.”

He looked up at you.

And then—he kissed you.

Deep. Tongue and teeth and claiming.

“I’ll show you.”

With one hard thrust of his hips, he pressed against your center—bare, swollen, aching—and you whimpered at the pressure.

“Please,” you breathed. “I want you.”

“I’ve wanted you since that first night,” he confessed. “I can’t hold back anymore.”

He grabbed your ass, tugged you to the edge, lined himself up—and slid in.

All the way.

In one deep, hungry thrust.

You cried out—head falling back, nails digging into his shoulders—because nothing had ever felt like that. Like him. Stretching you full, stuffing you so deep your body didn’t know where he ended and you began.

“Jesus fuck,” he gasped. “You feel… you feel so fucking good.”

He stayed there a second—buried inside you, panting, trembling—then started to move.

Hard.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Every snap of his hips sent a jolt through your body, every grind of his pelvis against your clit had you whimpering his name.

“Say it,” he growled into your neck. “Say whose you are.”

“You,” you choked. “Yours.”

He fucked you harder.

“Again.”

“Yours, Chan—please—don’t stop—”

He didn’t.

Not until the counter was soaked, your thighs were trembling, and he spilled inside you with a moan so guttural it left you breathless.

And still—he kissed you like he was starving.

Over and over.

Like it was never just sex.

Like it never could be.

⸻

The silence after was thick.

Heavy.

His breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling against yours as he held you there—pressed to his body, still buried inside you.

You could feel the tremble in his arms. In his thighs. In the way he kissed your temple like he didn’t know how to come down.

And then, softly:

“Let me take care of you.”

He lifted you gently, careful even though you were wrecked, and carried you the few feet to the bathtub.

Turned the faucet on.

Checked the temperature.

He was quiet—almost reverent—as he set you down on a stool and adjusted the water.

Then he knelt behind you.

“Hold still,” he whispered.

You felt his fingers in your hair—delicate and slow, undoing the mess of tangles caused by your bikini clasp. He took his time, gently easing the metal free, brushing through the curls like they were something precious.

“I got it,” he said, voice warm.

You turned your head.

He smiled at you, soft and small, like you were a secret he didn’t know how to share.

“Come here.”

The tub was full now, steam curling around you, and he helped you in first—settling you between his legs, your back to his chest, water lapping around you both.

It was peaceful.

Safe.

His hands slid over your arms, your stomach, cradling you under the water like you were fragile glass.

You let your head rest against his shoulder.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” you murmured.

“Like what?”

“Soft.”

He chuckled. “You made me soft.”

He was hard again.

You felt it—pressed against your ass, twitching under the water, completely unavoidable.

You smirked. Shifted just enough to make him twitch again.

“Baby…” he warned, breath hitching.

You turned in his lap, water rippling, and straddled him slow.

His eyes widened. “Are you—?”

“Still want you,” you whispered. “Need you again.”

Chan didn’t stand a chance.

Not when you lined him up and sank down with a moan, not when the hot water made everything slippery and sinful, not when your tits were right in his face and you were riding him so fucking slow he thought he was gonna pass out.

“Fuck, baby—fuck, you feel—” he grabbed your hips, guiding you, panting against your collarbone— “you’re gonna kill me.”

You leaned in, kissed his jaw. “You love it.”

He nodded frantically. “I fucking love it.”

You moved faster, grinding down, letting your nails scrape his scalp as he groaned and pressed kisses to your chest like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

Water sloshed.

Steam clung to your skin.

He looked up at you, breathless and undone, and whispered like a prayer:

“Let me come with you this time.”

You nodded, hands on his shoulders.

And when you clenched around him, gasping his name—he followed, head thrown back, arms wrapped around you, cursing against your skin like he couldn’t believe this was real.

And when it was over?

He held you there.

Still inside you, water cooling, hearts pounding together.

He kissed your forehead.

And for the first time all trip—maybe ever—you felt like more than his best friend.

⸻

The soft, golden light of morning crept through the curtains as you stirred awake, still tangled in the warmth of the sheets—and Chan’s arms, which were wrapped around you like he couldn’t bear to let go.

You blinked sleepily, then smiled, feeling the gentle pressure of his body against yours. His lips were pressed lightly to your neck, breath warm and slow.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice still thick from sleep.

You stretched, turning in his arms, and kissed him gently on the lips. “Good morning.”

Chan smirked, his hands sliding down your back and pulling you closer. There was something different in the air now—a tension that wasn’t there before, but it was sweet. His touch wasn’t just comforting—it was possessive, but in a playful way.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hand gently brushing your side, his fingertips lingering a little longer than necessary.

“You’re my girl, you know that?” he said, his voice low, lips still pressed against yours.

You pulled back a little, eyes wide. “I’m your girl?”

He nodded, the teasing glint in his eyes making it clear he was serious, but also having fun with the whole idea.

“Yeah,” he smirked, running his hand down your side, his fingers grazing your hip. “You’ve always been my girl, haven’t you?”

You raised an eyebrow and leaned back, giving him a cheeky smile. “I’ve always been your girl, huh? Is that so?”

Chan’s face softened as he grinned at you, his hand brushing your hair back from your face. “Mm-hmm, but you’re really my girl now,” he teased, his tone turning almost mischievous. “And no one else gets to have you.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him. “Always so possessive.”

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Nah, I’m just saying what’s true. You’re mine now.”

You tilted your head and raised a playful eyebrow. “I’ve always been yours, Chan.”

His smile faded just a little, his gaze turning more intense, and there was a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes.

“No,” he said softly, looking right at you. “Now you’re mine.”

And then, as if to prove it, he kissed you deeply, his hands pulling you closer, his lips sliding over yours with an urgency that made your stomach flip.

For a moment, it was as if the whole world stopped, just you and him, tangled up in the sheets.

You pulled back, catching your breath, and smirked at him. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted.”

He chuckled, his hand resting on your cheek. “I always get what I want when it comes to you.”

You smiled back, that little spark in your chest igniting again, something more than just playful affection building between you two.

And when his lips found your neck again, soft and tender, but possessive in its own way, you realized this wasn’t just some morning after kiss.

This was his kiss.

And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what you wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: Awwww! I loved this one so muchhh 😭😭❤️❤️ Chan was so cute in this fic! I’m gonna be writing a lot more chan fics from now on.

If you know you loved it more than i did, drop a like for encouragement and REBLOG! Its important!

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