fic recs

You hated parties. You hated parties because they were loud, because spaces with that many bodies on top of each other were too suffocating, because men always tried to hit on you with boozy breath and wandering eyes.

Now you hated parties because they made your boyfriend want to stick his tongue down other girls’ throats.

Jaehyun had managed to destroy nine months within three minutes – that’s the length of time you’d convinced yourself you’d spent standing there, unable to avert your gaze from the horror unfolding in front of you. Three whole minutes that he hadn’t even noticed your presence, too preoccupied. Too focused on kissing this random girl like he had something to claim, as if you weren’t enough. And worst of all, he hadn’t even cared enough to bring it somewhere private. They were in a corner of the living room, tucked away but not hidden. It had only taken a little bit of squeezing between partygoers and quick apologies to make your way to them. 

They had gathered a crowd, too. A few spectators, voices meant to be whispers – drunk people can’t seem to mind their own volume. 

“Yo, is that Y/N?” 

“Nah, I just saw her getting a drink.” 

“Shit…she’s gonna be so pissed.”

At least the alcohol hadn’t made them completely brainless. You were, in fact, pissed. There was the unmistakable heartbreak too, but you weren’t going to let anyone see that. Instead, you blinked back your tears and cleared your throat to make sure the words didn’t get stuck. Each step you took towards him made it more real, until you were close enough that you knew he could hear you over the raging music.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hiss, far from an actual question. Your voice still broke on the last word, and you hoped he hadn’t noticed. As soon as he registers that it’s your voice, his girlfriend, Jaehyun tries to push the girl away, feigning disgust. It’s almost pathetic in a way, his little act. 

“Shit, Y/N,” he curses. “I didn’t mean to – fuck, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just – ”

He stumbles on his words as if his mouth wasn’t working perfectly fine just seconds before. When he tries to inch towards you, you step back, refusing to allow him the comfort. 

“You’re fucked, Jaehyun,” you say flatly. That’s as much of your energy as you would give him, at least for now. He’d embarrassed you enough by kissing another woman in the middle of a party; you decided against escalating your humiliation by shouting at him and causing a scene. You turn on your heels and begin pushing through bodies again, away from him, and you can tell he’s following. You can hear your name, barely reaching your ears but definitely there. 

Once you make it out of the most concentrated pool of people, he staggers soon after and latches onto your wrist. The same fingertips that used to run across your skin so gently now felt like betrayal and poison. 

“Let me go,” you snap. His grip loosens slightly, but he still holds you there, determined to defend himself. 

“I fucked up, I know, but please just hear me out,” he begs, as if he has the right to. His excuses are the last thing you want to hear right now, and you know that’s all they would be. Stupid excuses for a stupid “mistake,” and it makes you sick to even think about listening to him explain why and how he ended up making out with another woman in the corner of a party he asked you to go with him to.

“No! Fuck you, seriously,” you spit, words laced with venom you prayed would hurt him even a fraction of the way he hurt you. 

And perhaps they did, or at the very least stunned him, because he drops your arm entirely. Now, you take the final steps towards the door, reaching for the handle. He tries to follow you again, unsatisfied, unrelenting. “And if you follow me out this door, I promise you I’ll never speak to you again.”

That stops him in his tracks. Maybe gives him some hope that if he just lets you cool off for the night, you’ll let him explain in the morning. Regardless of how he perceives it, you lunge at the opportunity to escape, finally making it out the door and into the crisp night air. It hits your skin viciously, your skirt and halter top offering little protection from its bite. You’re cold, heartbroken, and, worst of all, not even nearly drunk enough to mask it. 

Without the vivaciousness of the party, you can only see Jaehyun kissing her in your mind, can only hear the hushed whispers of the onlookers, replaying on a torturous loop. You’d only made it down the steps of the house before the tears began to fall. Now you let them, assuming you were away from prying eyes. 

Unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed someone standing right next to the door while you and Jaehyun had your little spat. A certain someone who would get far too much enjoyment out of such a scene. You had been followed once more, but this time not by your stupid cheating ex boyfriend, but by his equally as stupid “rival.” It was still a mystery to you why they hated each other, and at this point, you didn’t care at all to find out.

“Those were some harsh words,” he chuckles, and you don’t even need to turn around to recognize the voice. The same way you don’t need to turn around to know he’s smirking. You hurriedly wipe your eyes, careful not to smudge your makeup; the last thing you need is him to see you crying, another thing for him to derive sick pleasure in. You wouldn’t dare grant him that.

Because it was an unspoken relationship rule that an enemy of your partner is an enemy of your own. So, for no real reason other than the fact that Jaehyun hated him, you hated Bang Chan. 

“Fuck off, Chan,” you snarl, quickening your pace. It doesn’t matter, since he catches up to you in a few short strides. “Why the hell did you even follow me out here?”

He steps in rhythm with you, making it clear he had no intentions of leaving. Not until he got what he wanted, whatever that may be. The satisfaction of seeing you broken? The chance to remind you how shitty Jaehyun is and how great he is? You aren’t sure, but you keep walking anyway.

“I just didn’t expect to hear you say such things to your boyfriend,” he answers. His emphasis of “boyfriend” makes you both angry and repulsed, then bitter and devastated. Nine months of your life gone in minutes, and now you had the displeasure of dealing with Chan on top of it.

You scoff and finally stop, turning to face him for the first time. His eyes twinkle with something devious, and it infuriates you. “He’s not my boyfriend. Not anymore.”

“Oh?” he draws his head back in shock. He’s silent for a moment, and you fold your arms across your chest, glaring at him in a way he finds cute more than intimidating. “I’m surprised you two lasted this long, actually. Figured it was about time for Jaehyun to do what he does best.”

You blink at him incredulously, his careless words cutting deep. There’s no reason anything he says should bother you, but there’s something about it that stings. And Chan notices, too, watching your entire face shift from rage to sorrow. Your features soften in a way he’d never seen before – you’d only ever looked at him with hatred and annoyance – and it deflates him. 

“I don’t know why you two don’t get along. Seems like you should be best friends – you’re both fucked up,” you retort quickly, though it comes out as a strained whisper. 

Chan hates being grouped with him, especially in your mind where Jaehyun now seems to be synonymous with evil. He never expected to be giving you of all people an apology, but he figures he needs to. For his own consciousness, of course. Definitely not because he felt an odd pang in his chest when you looked at him with something other than disdain for once.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that. Are you alright?” he asks cautiously. He never thought he’d be so relieved to see someone roll their eyes, but when you do, he swears he feels ten times lighter. Your hostility he could navigate, but your sadness was uncharted territory; he was glad to be back to familiarity. And since you hadn’t walked away from him yet, he takes the chance to dig deeper. “What did he do?”

“Like I’d want to talk to you about it. Just give it a few hours, you’ll hear about it from someone, I’m sure,” you shrug, trying to pretend that you’re unbothered. That you don’t care that you’ll likely be the talk of campus, the woeful ex-girlfriend people will look at in that pitiful way they look at small, broken things. 

As much as you hate Chan, you’re grateful he isn’t looking at you like you’re small or broken. He’s looking at you the same as always, like you’re a challenge, a puzzle he hasn’t yet solved. Maybe that’s why you decided to keep standing there, holding more of a conversation with him than you’d likely ever had before.

“Probably. But I want to hear it from you. So tell me, what happened?” he asks again.

He doesn’t say it with demand or snark. It sounds almost unsettlingly genuine. It sounds like someone that isn’t Chan, or at least the Chan you’re familiar with. You hesitate, conjuring up another smart remark, but you let it die in your throat. 

“He fucking cheated on me. He was making out with some girl in front of everyone. Can you believe that?” you chuckle sarcastically, forgetting who exactly is standing before you. “Nevermind…I’m sure you can believe it. God, I’m so stupid.” 

“No, you’re not stupid,” he says adamantly. “He’s stupid. An even bigger idiot than I thought, actually.”

It angers him more than it should that you’re degrading yourself over Jaehyun’s horrible decisions, and he has a fleeting thought of going back and telling him off for it. And as the thought passes, he can’t understand why. He knows you hate him. He knows you have likely been fed lies and half-truths by Jaehyun for months. He knows he shouldn’t care about any of this. He can’t seem to figure out why he does. 

“I just can’t get that image out of my head. It’s making me sick,” you mumble, and it replays all over again. The ear-splitting music, the crowd, his lips on hers, that look on his face when he saw you. All your emotions bubble back up to the surface and come out as a loud groan, though internally you just want to scream until your throat is raw. “I wish I could make him feel even half of what I feel right now.”

The idea that pops up sounds ridiculous in his head and likely even more so said aloud, but his mouth opens before he can stop himself. “Well, maybe you could,” he trails. 

“I know it may be hard for you to believe, but I’m actually a good person,” you sneer. “I would never cheat.” 

He laughs dryly and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, awaiting an explanation. “Believe me, I know you’re just a perfect princess,” he mocks, and you’re certain if you roll your eyes any harder they’ll get stuck like that. “But who said anything about cheating? Besides, you’re not together anymore,” he reminds. “And there’s only one thing I can think of that would drive him just as mad.”

You’re intrigued now, though doubtful there’s anything that could reflect the same level of hurt you currently felt. Anything rational, at least. Still, you wanted to hear whatever silly idea Chan had, if not for your own amusement. 

“Which is what?” you question.

“Being with me,” he answers, too quickly, too plainly, as if it was something entirely normal and not an absolutely insane statement. When your eyes widen, he continues, waving his hands urgently to indicate you had gotten the wrong impression. “Okay, not for real, Jesus. Like faking it, you know? Just for him to see and lose his mind.” 

That was quite possibly the last thing you expected, and you’re forced to laugh at the absurdity of it. You wait for him to join in, to tell you he was joking just to fuck with you. That would have been the Chan thing to do. Instead, he stares at you, a half-smile playing on his lips. 

“Yeah, okay, you’re insane,” you scoff. 

“Is it that insane?” he says smugly, poking his tongue in his cheek. “Think about it, imagine how pissed he’d be seeing us together.”

For a moment, you can’t help but realize how attractive he actually is. It’s not that you hadn’t noticed before – you had perfectly functional eyes – but now being single and also inches away from him, it was an unavoidable fact. It made you almost begin to consider his idea. Almost.

“Yes, it’s insane! Just because I gave you five minutes of my time on a shitty night doesn’t mean I want to talk to you ever again, let alone pretend to date you.”

“Oh, Princess Y/N gave me five minutes of her precious time, thank you so much,” he quips, and this time he’s the one to roll his eyes. “Whatever, I gave you a guy’s perspective on how to get back at him. You’re not gonna get any better revenge than that.”

“And what do you get from it?” you ask, certain there must be some mutually beneficial aspect beneath it. There’s no way he would suggest something so outlandish without thinking of his own gain, and you know that’s true when he grins wickedly.

“Just the satisfaction of seeing his face when he realizes he lost his girl to the one person he hates more than anything.”

You aren’t sure why you hadn’t grasped that from the beginning. All Chan wanted, as always, was to get under Jaehyun’s skin, to take something of his, to win. The idea is still crazy, and far more theatrical than you’d usually approve of, but you’re a lover scorned.

Then, you think back to the unspoken rule, the sole reason and origin of your hatred for Chan. Jaehyun hadn’t even followed relationship rule number fucking one: don’t cheat on your girlfriend. So, you figured you could break some rules and allow some theatrics.

“Okay. Okay, fine, I’ll fake date you or whatever,” you huff, trying to ignore his triumphant smirk. “But nothing weird, alright? And once it’s all over, we go back to hating each other.”

He throws his hands up like it’s offensive you’d even insinuated it. “Believe me, that’ll be no problem,” he agrees.

“Good,” you say simply, a forced tight-lipped smile on your face.

“Good,” he repeats.

The silence that falls over you two is uncomfortable, only disrupted by the sound of the wind lifting leaves along the sidewalk and the faint thumping of music. You can still see the house down the road, and it makes you wonder if Jaehyun is still inside and if he went right back to her. Suddenly, you feel the need to get home and cry in the shower with your carefully-curated sad music playlist. 

 “Well…I’m gonna go back to my dorm now,” you finally speak, shifting on your feet awkwardly.

“I’ll walk you,” he offers without a second thought. 

You can’t help the way you exhale a little too harshly. Truthfully, you just wanted a short walk on your own to process all of the nights’ events, including the proposal you’d just accepted. And you had already spent more time than you’d like with Chan for one night (although you know you’ll have to spend much more now).

“Uh, no thanks. I don’t think we need to start the whole fake dating thing right now,” you reject bluntly. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, trying to stop himself from saying the wrong thing. He’s just trying to do a nice thing, the right thing, but you have a way of getting under his skin. The next few weeks are surely going to be a challenge. “It’s not for that, Y/N,” he sighs. “It’s late and dark out. Just let me make sure you get home safe, please?”

The roads are lit only by streetlights and the moon shining above, and you shiver from both the chilly air and the thought of making the walk to your dorm alone. You’d expected to be going home with Jaehyun, definitely not on your own in the middle of the night. 

“Fine,” you agree reluctantly. “But can we just walk in silence? Not really in the mood to talk anymore.”

You deliberately exclude that you feel like if you keep talking, you’re going to break. You’d kept a relatively strong front – far stronger than you thought you’d be after being cheated on – but it was slowly crumbling. Maybe it was all the adrenaline that kept your emotions contained, because now everything was slowing down and soaking in. 

“Sure,” he nods, following closely behind when you turn and begin taking steps forward. Your dorm is ten minutes away, and you walk side by side, arms occasionally brushing against each others. You only make it about two minutes in before he stops, shrugging off his jacket. Then, he holds his hand out, gesturing to it when you stare dumbly. 

“Here,” he offers. “You’re freezing.”

There’s no denying that he’s right, but that didn’t mean you were going to wear his jacket. You could survive a few more minutes of the cold, even though your skin was covered with goosebumps that hadn’t gone away since you’d first left Jaehyun at the door. “I’m not wearing your jacket, Chan,” you shove his hand back. 

Before you can start walking again, he drapes it around your shoulders, ignoring the glares you send his way. 

“Do you always have to be this stubborn?” he groans. “You’re literally shaking, but God forbid you wear my jacket.”

You click your tongue and pull your arms through the sleeves anyway, mumbling a grudging “thank you.” The newfound warmth was a great comfort, and you’re so wrapped up in it you don’t notice the way he steals short glances over at you. His eyes drag down your body, drinking in how his jacket sits on your shoulders like it belongs there. How the sleeves fall past your wrists and the hem lines your thighs, still mostly exposed from your skirt length of choice. How you look good wearing something of his.

And then he curses himself for even thinking it, tearing his eyes away even though he really doesn’t want to. He clears his throat loudly, awkwardly, trying to ground himself, and you look over wordlessly. Any words you were going to say get caught in your throat when you notice how muscular his arms are now that they’re no longer covered. 

Still, neither of you speak again, both thinking silent thoughts that you’d never let the other know. Once you arrive at your dorm building, he walks you all the way to your door despite your protests, muttering something about you being stubborn yet again. 

“Thank you for walking me home,” you force out, gratitude sounding like exasperation. Your back is pressed against the door, hand wrapped around the handle. All you want is to throw yourself in bed and sob and sleep at this point, but Chan’s presence keeps you in the hallway.

He nods, combing a hand through his hair, wondering when it became so difficult to think of the right words to say to you. “Try not to think about him too much tonight, alright?” he sighs. “I know that’s hard, but just try to get some sleep or something.”

Such gentle advice sounds odd coming from his mouth, and he waits for your sarcastic reply. Counts on it, actually. 

It doesn’t come. Instead, you smile at him weakly, telling yourself you simply don’t have the mental capacity to go back and forth with him anymore. Not that you were actually hating him a little less. 

“I’ll try,” you assure. “Oh, yeah. Here.” 

You pull off his jacket, the one that had begun to feel a little too comfortable, and fold it over your arms towards him. 

“Keep it. You can wear it around or whatever,” he suggests indifferently. It would make your fake relationship more believable, but beyond that, it would appeal to that small part of him that enjoyed seeing you in it. 

Fuck, what had gotten into him?

“I won’t,” you sass, bringing the jacket back to your chest anyways. 

He runs his tongue along his teeth, chuckling. “Of course you won’t. So stubborn.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop being that,” he shoots back.

Seemingly, you’d met your match. Someone who could keep up with your quick retorts, your mouthiness. And it came in the form of a man your ex boyfriend hated, a man you hated. You weren’t sure why that made it all the more exciting for you. 

His gaze lingered, a curious glint in his eyes. He was trying to piece you together bit by bit, but you were a more difficult puzzle than most. 

“Have a good night, Chan,” you say, finally turning the handle. When the door swings open, he finds himself looking around unintentionally, another opportunity to figure you out. He can see a few plushies on your bed, posters lined on the walls, and framed photos he can’t quite make out. There’s probably some of you and Jaehyun, and he hopes those are long gone by the next time he ends up at your dorm.

You slip inside hastily, and he realizes he’d been too engrossed in examining your room to respond. The door comes to a close in front of him.

“Yeah, you too,” he breathes out when you can’t hear, standing there just a few moments longer.

Once inside, you wait to hear the sound of his footsteps padding away, and when you do, you crack. The pictures of you and Jaehyun sit on your bedside dresser, mocking you, and you slam them down against the wood. You’re partially inclined to throw them against the wall and hope they shatter, but you don’t particularly feel like cleaning up glass shards through tears. 

At least you let the teddy bear he gifted you stay on your bed, unharmed. An innocent soul caught in the crossfire, a child of divorce even. 

“Fuck Jaehyun, fuck parties, and fuck this whole night,” you curse, though it comes out in choked sobs. And fuck Chan, your brain wants to say, but you bite it back. He had walked you home, given you his jacket…and become your fake boyfriend (soon to be, anyways) within the span of thirty minutes. Still, he was annoying, arrogant, impossible-to-deal-with Chan.

 As much as every fiber of your being yearned for the soft comfort of your bed, you trudge to your bathroom and start the shower, making sure to put on your playlist while the water warms. Because if you were going to be heartbroken, you were at least going to be heartbroken while listening to Cigarettes After Sex.

After thirty minutes of crying and scrubbing your body of any traces of Jaehyun, you finally step out and decide to check your phone for the first time since everything had completely unraveled. Apparently getting cheated on was all you needed to reduce your screen time, so maybe that was a positive?

Naturally, there’s a few texts from people you could hardly consider friends but would now act like you were with feigned sympathy, full nosiness. Among them, however, is a text from a number you hadn’t saved.

y/n? 

who’s this?

I’d say the guy you hate the most but i think someone else might’ve taken that spot

Chan. It was almost impressive that he managed to sound annoying even through texts.

ha. and how’d you get my number…?

I asked someone for it. you think they’ll take the bait?

they’ll probably just think you’re a freak who goes for recently heartbroken girls.

Nah. that’s not really my type.

oh yeah? what’s your type then?

You watch as the typing bubble pops up and disappears a few moments later, and then nothing. Minutes pass and you assume he’s leaving you on read, and that’s fine. It’s late, anyway, and after such a thorough cleansing and crying session, you’re exhausted.

So it’s no surprise when your phone buzzes again just as you manage to get comfortable in bed. 

Just because that’s not my type doesn’t mean i have a type

“Liar,” you mumble to yourself. Whatever, it’s not like you care who or what he’s into. In fact, you’re glad he didn’t answer. Who knows what kind of weird things he’d come up with, if not just to irritate you. 

okay, boring

What about you then? what’s your type?

You’re torn between giving him a genuine answer or something along the lines of “basically the antithesis of you.” Then, you realize you can probably do both at once, since you don’t consider Chan to align with any of your dating criteria.

i like someone who’s warm, attentive, and can make me laugh. someone who notices the little things, too

Yeah, definitely not Chan. But then again….

That can’t be right. i mean, you ended up with jaehyun

Also not Jaehyun. That was something you could admit now, but it was different coming from someone else. Like you were the only one who couldn’t see the flaws, the incompatibility. You feel stupid all over again, trying to ignore the way your throat began to tighten once more.

i’m going to sleep.

HahahaAw man. i was having fun.

goodnight, chan.

Goodnight princess

The nickname might’ve been a term of endearment from anyone else, but from Chan, it was a thinly veiled taunt. You save his contact with a very fitting eyeroll emoji just to spite him, finally drifting off to a surprisingly peaceful sleep soon after. 

“What an asshole,” Jihyo hisses. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, you know I would have ripped into him.”

With all the craziness of the night, you hadn’t even thought to text any of your friends. It was one of the rare times none of them could make it out with you, and now you were being inundated with questions over lunch.

You wave her off, poking at your plate idly. “It’s fine, I promise,” you sigh. 

“Has he texted you today?” Mina asks, glancing down at your phone on the table. You look down too, half-expecting to see another flurry of messages from Jaehyun – he’d already sent about twenty since the morning, all going unanswered. 

“Yes,” you groan, unlocking your phone and passing it to the two girls for them to read the same desperate pleas you’d been spammed with. They scroll through, mouths slightly agape. “Should I answer? I’m worried he’s gonna end up showing up at my dorm if I don’t.”

“Here, let me answer,” Jihyo says, and you reach over and snatch the phone out of her hands before she can type. It wasn’t that he didn’t deserve whatever insults she’d send his way, but that you worried any response would entice him at this point. 

To satisfy her, you finally text him back, telling him to leave you alone and that you would let him know when you were ready to talk. You truly had no idea when that would be, but any more silence from your end would inevitably have him tracking you down on campus. 

Then, you remembered the other half of the night, the part where you agreed to fake date the same man your friends had heard you complain about more than once. There was no way you were going to keep that from them, nor would you be able to, but you weren’t even sure how to approach the subject. 

Hey, by the way, I’m pretending to date that guy I hate. For the revenge plot of course.

“There’s actually something else that happened last night,” you begin, studying their reactions. They wait expectantly, eyes wide with curiosity. “Chan heard us arguing and we…talked a little.”

“Yeah, well, that sounds like Chan. He basically feeds off of Jaehyun’s misery,” Jihyo chuckles.

Mina catches onto the end of your sentence, the words you had said just a little too quickly and quietly. Intentionally so. “What do you mean you talked? You can’t stand him.”

Now, both girls are staring at you, disbelief etched on their faces. You and Chan had never talked. You insulted, glared, and mocked. Talking? They weren’t even sure you two were capable of holding a conversation without spitting names at each other.

“It’s stupid…” you trail. “He had this idea, and…I don’t know, I guess I just agreed to it because I was so angry and emotional.”

You’re stalling, obviously, and they’re growing more impatient with each delayed sentence.

“He suggested we pretend to be together to get back at Jaehyun.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then Jihyo laughs, a full-body laugh that has tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. Mina just blinks at you, unamused. “Y/N! You can’t make me laugh like that while I’m eating, you know,” Jihyo scolds, still releasing occasional giggles.

“You’re not joking,” Mina says flatly. “Are you?”

Realization strikes both their faces when you don’t answer, swirling your straw around absentmindedly. Next comes their looks of disapproval. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you groan. But what did you expect? You had just thrown into question a fact they knew more concretely than grass being green or the sky being blue: you hate Chan. So did your need for revenge trump your hatred, or was your hatred truly never that deep after all? They suspected the latter – they always did, especially when you would go on about how insufferable he was while eyeing him from across a room.

“Like what? Like you’re crazy? Because clearly, you’re crazy,” Jihyo whisper-shouts.

“And with Chan of all people, seriously?” Mina adds. 

Okay, neither of them were wrong, but they’d also never been cheated on to understand all the complex thoughts and feelings you’re experiencing right now. And yes, with Chan, because the plan simply wouldn’t work with anyone else (nor would anyone else be stupid enough to go along with it). It just had to be your ex boyfriend’s worst enemy.

“I know it’s crazy and you know I’d never agree to something like this, but – ” 

“ – but she just couldn’t resist me,” someone interjects from behind you. Then, he throws himself next to you, leaning back against the table on his elbows.

You aren’t sure how long he’s been there or how much he heard, though you guess not much since one of them definitely would have warned you. Either way, add his stupidly good timing to the list of things that piss you off about him. 

He hadn’t texted you in the morning –  not that he was supposed to, or that you expected him to –  and it almost made you wonder if the whole night was a fever dream. Evidently not, seeing as he was sitting a few inches away with a wide grin plastered on his dumb face.

“Are you stalking me across campus?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He huffs out a hollow laugh. “You wish. You guys sit in the same spot almost every day.”

Is he right? Yes. Does it make sense for him to know that? Not really. Unless he’d been paying more attention to you than you thought, which also didn’t make sense. 

“Okay, so you’re not stalking me,” you conclude. “Just watching me.”

“Why does it have to be you? There’s two other lovely ladies here.” 

“Ew,” Mina says.

“Don’t be gross,” Jihyo adds.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, though Chan is unamused. You want to poke him further, to find out why he knows the specific time and place your friends typically eat lunch, but you decide to save it for another time. Especially since those two are sitting right across from you and would hang onto every stupid thing he says, pestering you about it later. 

Chan spins forward, now facing Jihyo and Mina. “Do you girls mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?”

“I mind,” you scoff, but he ignores you entirely.

The two girls look at each other suspiciously, knowingly. Then, Mina shakes her head, basically sending you off to your demise (another uncomfortable walk with Chan  – two in less than twenty-four hours has to be considered cruel and unusual punishment). “Sure,” she shrugs. “We were just finishing up, anyways.”

Were you, though? The conversation hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down until he arrived. 

With the approval of your friends, not yours, he clasps his hand around yours and stands up, trying to bring you with him. You can’t move, you can’t function at all with his hand holding your own, and once it hits you, you yank it away from him. 

And then you stand anyway, as if your body was betraying you and doing everything your brain said not to. 

“I hope you don’t plan on hurting her, too,” Jihyo cautions, an unspoken threat behind her words. 

Her intentions are sweet, but you can’t help but feel the need to chide her for making it seem like you two are actually together.

“I’m not going to cheat on her, if that’s what you’re implying,” he jeers, picking up your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, princess, you’re the only fake girlfriend in my life.” 

He must think he’s so funny, putting on a show in front of your friends, but you’re not laughing. However, Mina and Jihyo are. Snickering under their breath, actually, and probably going to gush all about this odd interaction after you leave. 

The three of you exchange goodbyes, Chan already walking away from the table. You have to take larger strides to catch up to him, and when you do, you reach for your bag, trying to pry it from his arm. 

“Is it going to kill you if you let me be nice and carry your stuff?” he huffs, readjusting the strap. 

“It might,” you glare, but you can tell he’s not budging, so you resign. You wait for him to speak, to offer an explanation. Instead, he scans your face like he’s looking for something beneath the surface. “Is there a reason you took me from my friends just now?” 

“Are you okay?” he asks, answering your question with…a question? So. Annoying. 

But it sounds sincere coming from him, unlike how everyone else had asked you since last night. You can tell the difference now between girls who asked because they wanted to know if they had a chance with Jaehyun, guys who asked because they wanted to know if they had a chance with you, the complete randoms who asked just to be in the know, and now…this. Someone who genuinely wanted to know if you were okay, nothing more, nothing less, no underlying motives. 

“I’m alright,” you shrug, “just numb, I think.”

He swallows hard, then nods. And suddenly the Chan you recognize is back. “Well, you look good for someone who just got cheated on.”

Maybe the compliment would have felt good if he hadn’t tacked on the last part. You had enough reminders throughout the day, so much so that your phone had been on DND for hours. And the reminders came in other forms, too, like your lonely walk to your first class in the morning, the one Jaehyun would always accompany you on. Or the song that came on shuffle that you two had once added to a shared playlist (which you now had sole custody of). 

“Do you know how to give an actual compliment?” you snap, already knowing the answer. Chan would probably drop dead before he complimented you. 

“So you’d rather I just say you look good?” he questions.

Yes, yes you most certainly would. But there was no way in hell you would tell him that and make him think his words actually mean something to you. You can just picture his smug look of satisfaction already. 

So you lie through your teeth.

“No.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, carefully mulling over what he says next. “You do though. Look good, I mean,” he states matter-of-factly. And to your surprise, he doesn’t drop dead afterwards. 

What should you say in return? Thank you? No, that implies you’re appreciative, grateful he complimented you, which you aren’t. You look good too? Absolutely not, unless you want to have him use that against you for the foreseeable future. Ew, don’t say those things? You’re not even sure you can feign disgust like that. 

You end up not saying anything at all, but your face says a lot. Too much. It heats up and your cheeks dust with red, a far worse response than any of the others you’d contemplated. 

“Aw, you’re blushing,” Chan teases, bumping against your shoulder lightly. “Getting all shy on me, where’s that smart mouth?” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, and then you realize you’ve been following him blindly for the past minutes. You see that he’s led you to the heart of campus, the vast field of green where couples, friends, and classmates alike all congregate. He heads straight for a bench, pulling you down next to him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“When’s your next class?” 

You don’t answer.

“You took me away from my friends to bring me here?” And then you look around, convincing yourself everyone’s eyes are on you. “People are staring.” 

He looks over at you, your bag now acting as a barrier between your bodies, and quirks an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

“Yeah, well, newsflash, princess. We’re doing this so they do get the wrong idea,” he reminds, tucking your bag by his side. With the new space, he hooks his arms around your thighs and shifts you towards him, pulling your legs onto the bench and draping them over his lap.

“Chan!” you hiss, trying to move, but he holds you there. 

If you thought people were staring before, they must be drilling holes through you now. Realistically, you’re just being dramatic  – everyone is too entrenched in their own problems, their own conversations, their own world to really notice you. But you know people will talk, because that’s what people do, especially when it involves two individuals who are quite well-known on campus. 

“Relax. The more obvious we make this, the quicker people will see, the quicker Jaehyun will see. And then it can all be over, right?” he explains, and you huff in response. You sit there like that long enough that it becomes comfortable, his fingers tapping idly on your leg while he scrolls on his phone. At the same time, you trace mindless shapes onto the bench, pretending you weren’t melting into him slowly. 

No.

Being like this with Chan shouldn’t feel this normal, and you refuse to accept that it does. So, naturally, you have to say something to ruin it. Almost like an innate reflex.

“I should’ve just stepped out in a revenge dress, but nooo, I had to agree to your stupidity,” you mumble. He laughs, and then his face contorts to something more serious.

“You have a revenge dress?”

He says it hopefully, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. 

“If I do,” you begin, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “you’ll never get to see it.”

His entire body deflates, and you take the opportunity to pull yourself off of him. You had a class across campus to get to and also needed a serious mental debrief to process the last twenty minutes. He hands over your bag, lifting off the bench as well. “Do you want me to like, walk you to your classes and stuff?” 

“Nope,” you decline easily. “Unless you’re willing to walk me to my 8:30 on Tuesdays.” 

It’s supposed to be a joke, and he must know it because he scoffs, shaking his head like you’d just said the most egregious thing ever. You laugh and start in the direction of your class, the feeling of his body so close to yours still lingering.

The weekend comes and goes quickly, with you swearing off any more parties for the time being despite Mina and Jihyo’s pleas. They both mention something about alcohol and loud music being the perfect remedy for a break up. But you already only really went to parties to appease your friends (and Jaehyun, previously), who dubbed them an “essential part of the college experience.” Now, you had the perfect excuse not to. Even Chan texts you to ask if you’ll be going out, though he doesn’t have nearly the same level of disappointment as your friends when you say no.

Instead, you spend your days clearing your camera roll of pictures of your cheating ex boyfriend and boxing up all the things of his you no longer wanted to have in your possession. Maybe you could get Chan to burn it all for you (except for the teddy bear, of course). 

And then Tuesday morning rolls around and there’s an incessant knocking on your door, which is not only irritating but unusual, given the time. You’re in the middle of getting dressed when you answer, top half still in a tank top, bottom half in jeans. 

This person is about to feel all your morning wrath, until you blink a few times and register that it’s Chan of all people.

“What the hell?” 

“8:30, right?” he confirms, leaning against the doorframe. 

You fold your arms across your chest, resisting his charm as best as you can. “That was a joke,” you groan, opening the door wider. “I’m not done getting ready and it’s gonna look weird if you’re waiting outside.”

He steps inside happily, immediately noticing the now barren space on your dresser. You had gotten rid of the pictures, good. He also recognizes his jacket draped along the back of your chair in a way he knows you’ve worn it, or at least moved it recently. It hangs off a little unevenly, one of the sleeves wrinkled in on itself. 

“Yeah, because it’ll look so much better if we come out of your dorm together at eight in the morning,” he chuckles while you walk into the bathroom to change shirts in peace.

“Don’t even think like that,” you shout. Then, you walk out, throwing the tank top at him (which he catches, unfortunately), feeling emboldened. “Everyone knows I wouldn’t fuck you.”

The smirk on your face is wiped away immediately when he grabs your wrist as you bend down to reach your bag. “Yeah? Do you know that?” he whispers. His whole demeanor shifts, gaze intense, grip strong but not painful. You attempt to force out a stammered reply, but admittedly, you’re flustered. Your own body is a traitor, clearly. 

Thankfully, he releases your wrist and breaks the tension with a devilish laugh. “You’re so easy to fuck with,” he says, sounding completely like his usual irksome self. 

Now that you had a glimpse of a different, enticing side of Chan, you craved more and hated yourself for it. After all, you had just said you would never fuck him. And you wouldn’t. 

But can’t a girl just think about it?

You grabbed your bag successfully this time and slipped on a pair of shoes, heading out the door with him right behind. 

“So why did you do this, exactly?” you question, still fighting off sleep yourself. 

“When I commit to something, I go hard,” he explains, though it sounds like a double entendre. “So if we’re going to fake date, I’m gonna be the best damn fake boyfriend you ever had.”

How wonderful. You thought you were agreeing to get revenge against Jaehyun, not to fuel Chan’s ego. Maybe you’d need another fake boyfriend down the line just to knock him from the top spot.

“Well, good thing we probably won’t need to keep this up for very long. I’ve already had people text me asking what’s going on between us,” you click your tongue. “No Jaehyun though.”

“Poor guy’s probably losing his mind thinking his fuck-up made you realize you had repressed feelings for me all along.”

“Oh, I had feelings for you?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs. “That’s how my story goes, anyways.”

When you make it outside, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you just a little bit closer. And now that you understand there’s no reasoning with him, you let him. It’s too early to argue, anyways, but you still roll your eyes where he can’t see. 

“God, you’re insufferable. Can’t even give me some dignity in our fake love story,” you sneer. 

“Okay, fine, I had feelings for you,” he relents, and for a second, it sounds like a fact, not a fabrication. “That sound better?”

You hum in approval, satisfied with the change. Whether he would actually follow through with it, you weren’t sure. 

“So, are you gonna stay cooped up in your dorm this weekend, or are you going out?” Chan wonders, seemingly forgetting why you didn’t want to go to another party in the first place. They were kind of ruined for you at the moment, especially when you never really enjoyed them to begin with. 

“I’m put off of parties for a while,” you wave your hands. “And I need to study, anyway.” 

He squeezes your shoulder, displeased with your answer. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t let him ruin your fun,” he urges.

It was too late for that, though; all “fun” had been sucked out the moment you caught your boyfriend sucking face, and you knew he would probably be there, too. Just because he was playing the regretful, devastated ex in your texts didn’t mean he was depriving himself of his favorite pastime. You wouldn’t even be surprised if one of his “please forgive me, I’m so sorry, I miss you so much” texts had come while he was balls-deep in another woman.

“I’ll have plenty of fun in the library, thank you,” you shoot back.

“Oh? In public? Wow, princess, I didn’t know you were into stuff like that,” he grins, and you shove his arm off of you, staring at him in disgust.

“Oh my god, you’re a fucking freak!”

“I’m the freak? You’re the one that’s going to – ”

“Chan. Stop talking.”

“Okay, okay,” he throws his hands up defensively. “But just so you know, I don’t judge, and if you want some company…”

Fuck this smug bastard, and more importantly, fuck the way he was starting to get into your head. 

The rest of the walk is relatively normal, at least in the sense there’s no more talk about public sex, and you reach your class promptly at 8:28. 

“Well, have a good day,” he says a little awkwardly. “Let me know when you’re planning on grabbing lunch?”

“Unlikely,” you scoff, leaving him open-mouthed as you head inside.

So how you end up with Mina, Jihyo, and Chan at your usual lunch spot, you’re not sure. 

“You guys missed it. Then she goes ‘fuck you, Jaehyun!’ and he looked terrified,” Chan laughs, and your friends join in, loving the cheater lashings. 

“He did not look terrified,” you correct. 

“She’s being modest. Even I felt a little intimidated,” he draws in a sharp breath, “but it was kinda hot, too.”

You’re not sure where that came from, and you kick his foot under the table where Mina and Jihyo can’t see. In return, he places his hand on your thigh, squeezing. 

“You guys sure you’re faking this?” Jihyo questions, her chin resting on her hand while her eyes flicker between the two of you. Like she would be able to figure you out if she just looked hard enough. Impossible, considering you couldn’t even figure out what was going on at this point. He was still annoying, painfully so, but he was also alluring, and the heat between your legs was starting to do most of the thinking.

“Yes,” you and Chan say simultaneously, almost rehearsed. 

“Right,” Mina nods, drawing out the word. “As long as you believe that.”

His hand moves now, rubbing along your thigh softly, and you have to grit your teeth to not snap at him. “I do believe it, because it’s true,” you say harshly (but not convincingly). “I’d rather drink a jean jacket through a fucking straw than actually date him.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop his wandering hand; in fact, it only pushes him further, now sliding lower until his fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh. You shift awkwardly, keeping your eyes locked on your friends. You wouldn’t let him see that he was undoing you. 

“I’m not particularly fond of you either, but a jean jacket through a straw is insane,” he smirks, finding enjoyment in your fidgeting. 

“Then I guess it does a good job of conveying how much I can’t stand you.”

This time, you do snap your head towards him, eyes shooting daggers into him. They gave a silent warning, a threat he didn’t quite think you truly meant. After all, your body had a different message with the way your thighs clenched and shoulders stiffened. 

“So sweet, isn’t she?” Chan smiles sarcastically, drawing his hand back. And you’re grateful – at least, that’s what you tell yourself, ignoring the small voice that said you wanted more. He reads something on his phone before typing quickly and rising from his seat. 

“Anyway, thanks for the invite Y/N, but Minho’s locked himself out of the apartment, so I’ve gotta swing by before class,” he sighs dramatically.

“I absolutely didn’t invite you.”

“Sure you didn’t,” he winks, already gone before you can argue. 

Once he’s out of earshot, Jihyo groans, covering her face with her hands. “God, I think if I’m subjected to that level of sexual tension again, I’ll actually pass away,” she huffs, muffled. 

Bad time to take a sip of your drink. 

“Sexual tension?!” you repeat, nearly choking, completely stunned by her words. 

“We weren’t sure of it when you were with Jaehyun, but now it practically radiates through the air whenever you’re around each other. It’s suffocating,” Mina agrees, only adding to your embarrassment. Your face is heating up quickly, and it makes it hard to deny their accusations. 

“Can you just hate-fuck and get it over with? Maybe you’ll find out you actually do get along in some ways,” Jihyo adds, exasperated. 

You laugh dryly. “Oh my god, do you guys hear yourselves? I’m not having sex with Chan, that’s disgusting.”

“Well then can you two at least not make lunch feel like the build-up of a porno?”

Needless to say you would be informing him he could not join you and your friends for lunch anymore, lest you get lectured again on your “radiating” sexual tension. 

By the time Friday comes, things have quieted. Chan listens when you tell him Mina and Jihyo requested your lunches stay reserved for the three of you (it’s not quite true, but the best excuse you could come up with without mentioning that your friends think you two want to fuck each other). So, you don’t see him much, aside from the couple of times he shows up outside your classes.

His texts, however, are frequent. They’ve developed into something expected, a normal part of your days. You talk about mundane things like grades and annoying lab partners. You talk about personal things like favorite songs and future goals. Each conversation is still filled with sarcastic quips and quick insults, but they don’t hold the same edge they once did. It felt more like comfort – like if you kept up the hatred act, you could protect yourself from what it was becoming.

And at the same time, the texts from Jaehyun had resumed because, although he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he had heard that you and Chan were seen together. On multiple occasions. He had even shown up at your dorm finally (the week of freedom you’d had was far longer than you’d expected), and you had slammed the door in his face, telling him it wasn’t any of his business who you hung out with anymore. 

After that encounter, you were grateful for some peace – which was becoming rare in your life – throwing yourself nose-deep in your notebook. With your headphones on and such intense focus, you don’t notice anyone else’s presence.

Until someone makes their presence impossible to ignore. 

“Hey, princess,” Chan greets, a cup of coffee in hand. He slips into the seat in front of you, placing the cup down and sliding it over. You have to pull your headphones back to hear him, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

He shrugs. “You said you were studying, I thought I would bring you some coffee to help your brain.”

He says it so calmly, and you have to fight against the way your heart swells at the simple act of service. Though really, it wasn’t so simple, because this was Chan showing up to the library unannounced on a Friday night, when he would usually be far away from anything academic. For you.

“Well, thanks, because I feel like my brain has basically disintegrated,” you complain, taking a sip. It was your favorite, too – he must’ve asked Mina or Jihyo for your order. “Did you skip out on the party?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling it. Kinda just wanted to chill tonight. I thought a library date might be fun,” he muses.

You scoff, watching his lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Date?” 

Chan blinks at you like you’ve wounded him, although you know it’s all part of his (perfected) act to get into your head. 

“You wouldn’t call it that?” he says, disappointedly, leaning his head against the palm of his hand. 

“No, I’d call it me studying for hours and losing my mind and you showing up uninvited.”

He points behind him with his thumb, turning halfway in his seat, an empty threat. “So, should I leave then?” he challenges.

This is probably the part where you should say yes. You should demand it, actually. But he had brought you coffee, liquid gold for your overloaded brain, and the chances of him listening to your request were slim to none regardless. 

“It’s fine,” you concede, hoping it sounded indifferent. You even shift your focus back to your laptop to play up the act, writing down “notes” that don’t quite make sense. Chan accepts this, tapping his fingers on the table obnoxiously, purposely so. After a few minutes, he straightens in his chair, leaning forward against the table.

“I must say,” he whispers, “I’m a little disappointed to find you actually studying. You had my hopes up the other day.”

It takes you a moment to recall that conversation, and once you do, the realization spreads across your face in red hues. “There is something seriously wrong with you,” you frown.

And there may have been something seriously wrong with you for enjoying it.

“Maybe. But I think you like it. You were basically writhing when I touched you at lunch.”

Now you know you definitely should have told him to leave. He pokes his tongue in his cheek, in that way that could drive you crazy if you let it (which you weren’t). 

“No, I wasn’t,” you argue weakly.

He finds your denial cute, truly, since he remembers your body’s responsiveness so vividly. It was essentially engrained in his mind, spinning it in circles. He could elicit that reaction from just touching your clothed thigh, and it made him feel powerful. And curious.

“Oh, you weren’t?” he chuckles. “So if I come sit next to you now, that’d be fine? And if I touch you like that again, you wouldn’t start to melt under my fingers?”

“I did not melt under your fingers.”

“But you would have,” he says confidently. He drops his voice to a whisper again. “If your friends weren’t there, and I kept going, you would have.”

You’re staring at each other now, wondering who will break first, though his eyes shine with excitement and yours narrow with annoyance. Or rather, desire that you try to disguise as annoyance. 

“You think too highly of yourself,” you snort, scribbling gibberish into the margin of your notebook. 

He releases a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t need to think it,” he corrects. “You’ve shown me.”

You snap now, slamming your laptop shut a little too aggressively. Because you refused to allow him to continue talking with so much confidence, like he knew what you were thinking better than you did.

“I’m sorry, did you forget the part where none of this is real? All of your little touches and stupid remarks have nothing to do with what we agreed on.”

But your boldness only encourages him, biting his lip subconsciously. “No, they don’t. That’s just for my enjoyment. Like I said, you’re easy to fuck with.”

“That's why you decided to come see me in the library on a Friday night instead of going out? To ‘fuck with me?’” you say pointedly, to emphasize how unreasonable it sounded. 

“Well, you didn’t tell me to leave.”

“I asked a question.”

Chan drags his hand along his face, suddenly far less arrogant. For once, he looked like he was struggling to conjure up a smart response. And he was. But you were refusing to back down, finally having a sense of control. 

“I don’t know,” he finally says, and you glare at him. “Really, I don’t. I just wanted to see you.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “Don’t be dumb.”

Because there was no way he meant it. Or maybe you had misheard him entirely. But his whole demeanor had changed, and you no longer recognized the Chan that sat before you without his smugness.

“Right. If I tease you, I’m ‘insufferable,’” he recites, “if I’m honest with you, I’m dumb. Tell me, princess, what can I do then?”

You swallow harshly, trying to ignore what his words entailed. Honest. He said that he wanted to see you and he meant it. The air around you had shifted now, thicker, heavier, falling on your chest in a way that almost made your voice get caught in your throat.

“Are you fucking with me again?” you grimace, waiting for him to laugh in your face. To snap back into the version of him you’re familiar with.

But he doesn’t laugh. “You tell me. Am I?”

“You can’t do that!” you groan, exasperated. “You can’t say these things and then act all cryptic after.”

You cross your arms across your chest, and he relents. “Okay. Yes, I wanted to see you. Is that bad?”

“Yes.”

Yes, it was bad. Very bad, actually. Because you were supposed to hate him, and you thought he hated you. Because none of this was supposed to be real, and once you’d gotten vengeance against your shitty ex boyfriend (however dramatic it may be), things would go on like nothing had ever happened.

But is that what you wanted? It should be. It had to be. 

“Huh. I guess I don’t care,” he breathes. “Do you?”

He awaits your answer, though he already knows what it will be. You had become easy for him to read now; he had studied you like you were his favorite subject. The unsolved puzzle he had finally pieced together. 

And though you try to force yourself to lie and say yes, you simply cannot. All your resolve has vanished since he made such an unexpected confession, leaving you dazed.

“No,” you mumble, and your breath hitches. 

His smirk returns, though it’s different now. Less of an attempt to get under your skin, more of an acknowledgement that one day he’ll get to touch every inch of it. 

“Didn’t think so,” he reaches across the table, trailing his fingers along your hand. You snatch it back, ignoring his snickers. 

He would be the death of you, you were certain. And for some reason, you find yourself thinking that it may not be such a terrible way to go out.

Neither of you are sure how to proceed after that night in the library, an obvious tension lingering between the two of you. You knew you weren’t going to be the one to address it, but you were growing exhausted with pretending that it had never happened. 

It seemed like Chan was perfectly content with that, however. He hadn’t even mentioned it once, continuing to text you and show up outside your dorm and classes like it was all still part of a plan. And maybe it was. Maybe he was a great liar, but that didn’t explain the rift that had settled between you two. If he had lied that night, why could he hardly meet your eyes now?

You didn’t ask, because you feared the answer – both possibilities. Though when you turned to Mina and Jihyo for advice, they were adamant. They were convinced they were right all along, that there was a budding romance beneath the hatred. So, it was quite hard to get any sort of unbiased guidance from them. This was something you’d have to navigate on your own.

And by navigate, you meant continuing to avoid it. Hopefully Chan would crack before you did.

After almost two weeks of letting the unspoken words nearly suffocate you, you had begun to believe you really would have to forget it had ever happened. If he wanted to speak on it, he would. Nevermind that he could say the same thing about you; it was him that had started it, so he had to be the one to acknowledge it. It was only fair.

Your phone rings in the middle of the afternoon, during your thirty minute interval between classes. It’s Chan, which isn’t the surprising part (he had learned your entire schedule by now). 

“Let me take you to dinner tonight,” he says only a few seconds after you pick up. 

You roll your eyes, hardly registering his proposal. “A ‘hello’ might be nice.”

“Hi,” he utters. “Let me take you to dinner.”

If you agree too easily, he’ll know you had been waiting for him to say something like this. And with how straightforwardly he had asked (or stated, rather), he clearly expected your agreement. You could make him grovel just a little bit. 

“You wanna see me again?” you quip, the most you’d allude to the library incident. 

But Chan could match your attitude ten times over, so he has a quick retort. “I just figured if we go to dinner you could post a picture on your story, really commit to the bit,” he explains flatly, and then laughs when you’re silent. “What? You wanted me to say I want to see you?”

“Fuck you.”

“You said you wouldn’t,” he reminds. “Remember?”

If he could see you, he would undoubtedly point out how flustered you were, then follow it up with a dumb joke about how the offer was always open. And you would have to hold back from taking him up on it. 

“Really doing a good job of making me want to say yes,” you chide.

“Please let me take you to dinner. I’ve been thinking about our library date, and I wanna take you on a real one.”

You huff loud enough for him to hear over the phone. “That wasn’t a date,” you correct. “And I’m busy tonight.”

A lie, but he didn’t need to know that yet. There’s shuffling on his end, and then his voice comes out sharply. 

“Busy with what?”

“That’s really none of your concern,” you can’t help but grin at your own mischief. “But if you must know, I’m seeing someone tonight.”

“Y/N,” he growls, and it’s hot. You try to imagine the look on his face (why couldn’t he have FaceTimed you?), and it makes you weak. 

“So, what time are you picking me up?” you ask, voice syrupy sweet despite your antics. Like honey masking poison. 

He exhales loudly, and you can hear all the unease release from his body. If he was going to be so wound up about you even potentially seeing someone else, why had he taken so long to address your ever-present tension?

Maybe he was just as confused as you. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans. “I’ll be there at seven.”

He hangs up before you can hound him about the first half, not even sparing a second to confirm the time. No, you don’t know what you do to him, but it was inevitable that you would find out. And he would make sure that you understood to the fullest extent. 

It’s difficult for you to decide on an outfit for dinner with Chan, one, because you’re still tossing with the idea internally and two, because you aren’t sure what’s an “appropriate” amount of dressed-up. If you look too good, he’ll think you’re trying too hard to impress him, and you’ll never hear the end of that.

Though, you had already agreed to going to dinner with him, so you probably wouldn’t hear the end of that, either.

Mina and Jihyo choose an outfit over FaceTime (and so kindly remind you to “at least make him wear a condom”), one that teeters right in the middle of simple and dressy, and you’ve fixed your hair at least a dozen times by the time he’s knocking on your door.

When you open it, he stares at you, and then tears his eyes away to roam all over your body. He draws in a sharp breath, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Wow,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful.”

The compliment comes with no snarky follow-up, and he doesn’t even tease you when you feel your face heating up. He takes your hand and holds it the whole way to his car, only letting go to open the door for you; you would have never taken him for such a gentleman.

He doesn’t tell you which restaurant he’s picked, but the drive isn’t long before you arrive and are seated, his hand finding its way back to yours while you walk through the aisles.

As you sit there scanning the menu, you can’t help but realize you’re at fucking dinner with Bang Christopher Chan. And he’s staring at you like you wouldn’t notice.

“What?” you question, and he drops his head, chuckling.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just can’t believe how much things have changed.”

“You’re still annoying, don’t get it twisted.”

“Yeah, well, you still agreed to get dinner with me,” he shrugs.

He thinks he’s won with that, turning his attention to the menu. But even if he’s right, you aren’t letting him shame you so easily. “You would’ve begged me if I didn’t,” you smirk.

His eyes snap back to yours, the mischievous glint forcing him to fight back the more impure thoughts. “You know, that mouth is going to get you in trouble one day.”

“Yeah? By who?”

“Careful, Y/N,” he warns, words coming out through clenched teeth. 

You flash him an exaggerated smile, thanking the waitress when she returns with your drinks, and Chan curses himself for being turned on by how quickly you switch from a temptress to the sweetest angel. He stumbles over his words while giving his order, and you giggle softly without even knowing you’re the cause of it. 

Considering Chan had brought you to dinner, you felt confident enough to bring up the subject of what the hell was going on between you two. Specifically the Friday night you’d left unaddressed. “So, is it finally time we talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“This,” you motion between the two of you.

He doesn’t even pause to think about it. “We’re having dinner,” he replies coyly.

You figure admonishing him for his feigned ignorance won’t bring you closer to an answer, so instead you push further. 

“But why?”

“I told you, you can post it on your story or whatever. I’m sure Jaehyun still stalks your socials.”

You’d seen quite a few random spam names in your story viewers, so you knew it to be true, but you also knew that couldn’t be his reasoning. 

“You also told me you wanted to take me on a ‘real date,’” you mention, and he throws his head back against the booth.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we just have a nice dinner and worry about the semantics later?”

Obviously, the answer was a resounding no, which he should have expected since he understood your stubbornness better than anyone. “Oh, for you to pretend it never happened and leave me wondering for weeks? Sure thing, Chan,” you sneer.

You probably should have excluded the part where you admitted you’d still been thinking about that night, because he latches onto it and uses it to evade answering any more questions.

“I really get in that pretty little head of yours, huh?” he grins.

“Or maybe I get in yours,” you shoot back. “What did you say? Something about ‘I don’t know what I do to you’?”

He rubs his jaw, exhaling through his nose loudly. Because you really didn’t know what you do to him.

“Princess, you don’t get into my head. You’ve never fucking left it.”

Your food is brought over moments later, right on cue, leaving you sitting idly, stunned. Chan pretends not to notice, already moving past his previous admission. 

“God, I am starving,” he groans. He takes a bite of his meal, and then blinks at you when you haven’t even slightly shifted. “What’s wrong? You wanna take that picture for your story now?” 

If you heard the word “story” one more time, you were convinced you’d actually implode. And you’d take him with you, just to annoy him in the afterlife. 

“Don’t do that,” you hiss. “Don’t act clueless.”

“Well sorry for trying to be a believable fake boyfriend.”

Nothing about this felt fake anymore, and when he says it, it feels like a harsh reminder. That vicious awakening from the middle of a good dream, pulled to the surface of reality when you’re in such a deep slumber. 

“That’s all you are, right? My fake boyfriend? So why do you say and do all these things that make it feel so real?” you demand. 

Your meals are all but forgotten now, and the booths around you are probably getting more of your argument than any of you would like. You swear you can see the lady in the booth to your right staring at you and then leaning over to whisper in her daughter’s ear. Hopefully she’d give her some advice to never get involved with idiotic men like Chan. 

He rubs his temples, growing more exhausted by the minute. “I’m trying to figure that out. I came up with a stupid plan, and somewhere along the way the lines got blurred.”

“You blurred them!” you whisper-shout, eyes widening in disbelief.

“You let me,” he says simply, and you can’t deny it. Though he’s still far more culpable for your current situation. “Listen, we can talk about it more on the way home, yeah?”

It’s his cop-out, and you should know this, yet you relent anyway. You aren’t surprised when he refuses to discuss it further in the car, either, and when he tries to put his hand on your thigh, you push it away. 

He deserves that, but it still makes him sulk internally. If he couldn’t offer you answers, you wouldn’t offer him any more of yourself. At least, you’d try your best not to (easy to say, harder to do). 

When he drops you off, you hardly give him a goodbye, so he knows he’s fucked up. His chest tightens at the thought of not being able to make it right. Of letting you go without telling you everything he’s been thinking for the last month. 

He isn’t even sure you’ll give him another chance, but he figures he needs to sort his mind out before he faces you again, for both of your sakes. 

The texts slow and then stop altogether, and you don’t see him at all for another week. Maybe you had pushed him enough that he had been scared off (still, he could at least fake break up with you). Though you had never taken Chan for someone who could be scared of anything, especially with his constant arrogance. 

“That’s just how men are. They run when shit gets too real,” Jihyo says, fixing her top. 

The three of you were currently getting ready in your dorm, because the minute you had texted the groupchat stating that you were desperate for a night out, they were basically busting your door down. And you couldn’t blame them, because you were never the one to initiate, but right now, it seems like the only distraction you have left. 

“I think he’s just a little confused,” Mina adds with more eloquence. “I mean, do you even know what you want?”

“Yes,” you grin. “I want to go out, have a good time, and forget about all of this.”

Mina rolls her eyes at your avoidance, and Jihyo clutches her heart dramatically. “My Y/N is so back, I could cry right now.”

You know very well that a party is not the magical cure for all your problems – in fact, it’s the indirect cause of nearly all of them – but your other option was to spend another weekend in your dorm preparing an internal monologue about Chan’s cowardice. So, yes, you were going to a party. 

“You know they’re both probably going to be there, right?” Mina advises. Both of the banes of your existence, though for drastically different reasons. 

“It’s fine,” you wave her off. “I won’t even notice that they’re there”

Between the three of you, there’s not a soul that believes your lie, but nobody questions it. 

Though perhaps they should have, because maybe it would have made you reconsider before you ended up in your current situation. Which was searching through a sea of bodies for one particular person, even if you weren’t sure what you would do if you found him. 

Mina notices, too, watching as your eyes sweep all along the room while nodding every once in a while, pretending to be engaged in the conversation. You really hadn’t caught a single word she’d said for the past three minutes. 

And although there were plenty of people there, you were confident you’d be able to spot Chan out of a crowd. But so far, there was no sign of him, and you couldn’t decide if you were relieved or disappointed. 

Unfortunately, however, you had spotted Jaehyun. In the back of the room, looking completely untouched, sipping on a drink with his friends on one side and a girl on the other. But he looked disinterested, not paying her any mind, nodding along indifferently. He looked like you, searching for someone amidst the chaos.

“Y/N!” Mina barks, and you turn to her immediately. “Are you even listening at all?”

“Uh, yeah,” you lie. 

She throws her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. “Really? So what do you think, should I go over there and talk to him?”

She points to the left of you, but there’s at least five guys in the general vicinity she could be referring to. Of course, you’d know who she meant if you hadn’t been so checked out while looking for Chan.

“Um, who?” you ask carefully, and she groans, frustrated. “I’m sorry! I think I need another drink. To clear my head.”

You take off for the kitchen before she can argue, the counters covered in discarded solo cups and half-empty bottles of alcohol. Tempting. Instead, you open the fridge, pulling out one of the remaining unopened cans. 

When you turn around, you’re stuck in place, a firm chest blocking you from walking away. You’re about to complain, to remind whoever it is that there’s a thing called personal space, but one look up has the words refusing to come out. It’s Jaehyun, of course. 

“Y/N,” he falters, studying your face as if he’d forgotten your features. 

Your heart races, not from anything other than the discomfort of confronting someone who you once thought the world of.

“Leave me alone, Jaehyun,” you spit, and he steps back, granting you some space and the freedom to walk away if you so choose. But you don’t, not yet. 

He takes note of your stillness, encouraging him to speak again. “I will,” he nods. “But you haven’t given me a chance to explain, and I need you to know how much I regret what I did.”

“Yeah, well, good for you.”

He sighs, and a quiet moment passes between you, one that makes you picture him kissing that girl all over again. 

“Are you with him?” he asks, under his breath. You stare at him with feigned confusion, lips pressed in a taut line. This time, he speaks louder, intentionally. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N, please. Are you with Chan?”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“You don’t. But I owe you an explanation, and if you’re with Chan…” he trails, and it sends you over the edge. You tell yourself your anger rises up solely because of Jaehyun, but it’s undeniable that half of it comes from all you’d bottled up during the days without Chan around.

“Then what? Then it doesn’t matter? You cheating on me just gets justified because I’m with Chan?” you snap, voice increasing in volume with each word. “Guess what, Jaehyun, your fuck-up is to blame for all of it.”

Even with the thumping music, your voice carries throughout the room, and a few people glance over, intrigued. Someone pushes through the crowd, entering the kitchen right as Jaehyun opens his mouth to argue back.

“Is everything okay over here?”

Both of you look over, though you don’t need to to recognize the voice. It had become your favorite, even when it was teasing you or whispering innuendos just to unnerve you. 

“Chan,” you whisper, and he heads straight for you, ignoring Jaehyun’s unwavering glare. 

In a few quick steps, he’s beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him like he hadn’t ignored you for a week. “Hey, baby. Are you alright?” he asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

Baby. That was a new one. He had called you princess more times than you could count, but it had started as a taunt and never really felt like anything more than that. Baby, however, had your heart pounding and mind racing. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you swallow, finding more interest in the ground now. For a second, you forget all about Jaehyun in front of you, and it reminds you that Chan’s actions are probably directly correlated. After all, the original plan was to get back at Jaehyun, and what better moment than right now? The final act to your months-long play.

“So you two are together,” Jaehyun concludes, frowning.

“Don’t look so upset,” Chan grins wickedly. “I’ll treat her better than you ever could.”

Try not to take his words seriously, you remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it. This is all for show. But as always, he makes them sound real, adding a layer of intensity you can’t ignore. 

“You’re not good enough for her.”

You’re about to chime in, to remind him he has no say in what or who is good enough for you, and that it was rich hearing that from him of all people.  

“And you were?” Chan laughs humorlessly. “C’mon, baby, let’s get out of here, yeah?”

He squeezes your shoulder, looking down at you, waiting for your agreement. And as you glance between him and Jaehyun, something takes over you entirely. You pull his face towards yours, hesitating briefly to gauge his reaction. When he closes the final inches, your eyes flutter closed, his lips crashing onto yours.

It’s quick, soft, restrained, and not at all like what you expected (or wanted) kissing Chan to be, but it serves its purpose. 

Jaehyun stands there, wordlessly, the most satisfying look of outrage plastered on his face. Chan sees it, too, a small chuckle leaving his parted lips. He’ll probably burn the image in his mind to remember it whenever he needs a pick-me-up. 

And while you’re a blend of emotions between the kiss, facing Jaehyun, and Chan’s declaration, you keep yourself together for now, yanking Chan’s hand to lead him away. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You maneuver through bodies, making it to a noticeably more empty section of the house before you finally release his hand. If you’re lucky, he’ll go back to ignoring you, and you won’t have to discuss whatever just unfolded.

Unfortunately, you haven’t had much luck recently.

“Bold move there, baby,” he quips.

There it was again. Only this time, Jaehyun’s not around, so there’s no explaining away the pet name. Does that make it better or worse? You aren’t sure.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

Your night out had been ruined, and you swore you’d be done with parties for good. At least in your dorm you could save yourself from running face to face with anyone who either cheated on you or refused to share their feelings. 

“I’ll take you home,” Chan states, not offers. 

“I’m not getting in a car with you. You’ve been drinking.” 

It was an assumption, but a reasonable one. Though clearly incorrect, because he quirks an eyebrow and shakes his head immediately. “I haven’t had a drop of alcohol, actually,” he refutes, now pulling his keys out of his pocket and swinging them around his finger. 

So much for that excuse. 

“Whatever.”

He takes this as your reluctant surrender, now grabbing your hand and leading you to his car which was only a little ways down the street. And despite the kiss, you still had nothing to say to him –  or rather, way too much to say to him, and no desire to say it if he wouldn’t talk first. So a thick silence falls between you, leaving you with just the lingering feeling of his lips on yours.

“Quiet today,” he comments, stealing a glance you don’t return. You keep your head pressed against the window, a dull headache already forming from the night’s events and the alcohol. 

“I’m still mad at you,” you grumble. 

His hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter, tongue swiping across his teeth. “I know,” he mutters. 

“And I think I hate you again.”

“Well, the ‘again’ gives me some hope,” the corners of his lips tug upwards. “Means I had you on my side for a little, at least.”

“You did. Until you wouldn’t talk to me and ran like a coward,” you insult, watching his shoulders drop and smile fade as fast as it had come. You almost regret saying it. Because all your insults before had been quick, meaningless jabs that he could brush off. This one came with intent, a bitterness that wouldn’t be forgotten seconds later. 

“Yeah, I deserve that,” he sighs. “We’ll talk soon, okay? When you’re not tipsy and overwhelmed.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say flatly, still not lifting your head from the glass. 

He reaches across the console for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your skin. “I mean it this time. Because I’ve been going crazy without you. And that kiss just sealed the deal.”

“Please,” you scoff, forced. “It was hardly a kiss.” Hardly. Your minimization of it wasn’t wrong in a literal sense; it was short-lived, lacking the passion you knew you both had within. But regardless, it had completely hijacked your brain, so clearly it wasn’t hardly anything. 

“I know. That’s the problem. I need more.”

Now, you turn towards him, trying to decipher his expression. It’s unreadable for once, devoid of that familiar smirk. You want to tell him if he needs more to take it, that he can have everything he wants if he just says the words. But those words don’t come, not tonight, and you close your eyes against the window once more.

Before you leave for your dorm, he reaches for your hand again, pulling it to his lips. 

“Soon, I promise.”

You nod, trying to believe him, though you wonder if it would hurt less if you don’t. 

You didn’t particularly like loose ends.

That’s why after weeks of dangling a fake relationship in Jaehyun’s face and the culmination of it all at the party the night prior, you decided to confront him fully and at least hear what he had to say before you closed the chapter for good. You didn’t owe that to him, certainly not, but you felt like you owed it to yourself. An explanation for why he did it to quell the thoughts that had never completely gone away. Which he also said he owed you, anyways. 

And perhaps this was all amplified by the fact that most of the day had passed and there was no text, no call, no anything from Chan. He had only said “soon,” not “tomorrow,” but still. Some form of acknowledgement would be enough to placate you, but he hadn’t even spared you that.

So, with a final layer of lipgloss, you considered your makeup complete and mentally prepared yourself for the impending doom. You looked irresistible at least, everything Jaehyun could never have again. 

But nothing could ever go to plan (once again, luck hadn’t exactly been on your side), so you aren’t shocked when a knock on your door disrupts your evening. 

“Hi, princess,” Chan grins when you swing it open. Then, his eyes trail down your body, tugging his lip between his teeth subconsciously. “You look good.”

Well fuck. Why did he have to show up now? A text in advance might have saved you from unintentionally double-booking yourself, or maybe you’re at fault for assuming Chan was ghosting you again today.

“Thanks,” you smile half-heartedly, heading back to your mirror to look yourself over once more. It’s far too awkward to face Chan knowing you’re about to go see your ex, especially when you and Chan had almost established…something. Something real, beyond the pseudo-relationship. 

He senses that you’re withholding something, watching you suspiciously. “Going out?” he questions, and you curse under your breath. Bracing for the storm.

“Something like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His tone is already accusatory and you hadn’t even dropped the bomb yet, so you really had to prepare yourself for his reaction. At best, he would storm out and you could deal with it later, after you had dealt with Jaehyun. At worst, you’d have a full-blown argument in your dorm right before the other inevitable argument you’d have with Jaehyun. 

“I’m going over to Jaehyun’s,” you say softly, guilt washing over you when his face drops instantly. But you didn’t need to feel guilty – you were allowed to seek closure, especially when Chan hadn’t yet granted you transparency. Still, you can’t help but wonder if you were making the right choice.

Chan’s blood runs cold, and he waits for you to laugh in his face, to tell him how dumb he looks when he’s angry. Something snarky, something annoying. Something. Anything. He doesn’t care, as long as it means you aren’t currently getting dolled up to go see your cheating fuck of an ex boyfriend.

Instead, you say nothing, shifting on your feet uncomfortably.

“Y/N, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m just hearing him out,” you say flatly. “I don’t think that’s a crime.”

“No, it’s not a crime, but Jesus fucking Christ, you’re looking like that to go ‘hear him out?’”

You look down at yourself, a lacy bodysuit and skirt adorning your body – not to appeal to him, not at all, but to remind him what he had lost. Was it a little melodramatic? Maybe. Were you allowed to be melodramatic when confronting someone who had made you question if you weren’t enough? Definitely.

“Yes! What’s wrong with that?!” 

“Everything is wrong with that!”

“Oh my god, Chan, you got what you wanted,” you throw your hands up in frustration, “I’m sure you’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw us kiss last night.”

“You think his face is what I was thinking about after we kissed, Y/N?” he asks incredulously. “I was thinking about you, only you, and how right it felt.”

Was this his confession? It was beginning to feel like it. If only it hadn’t come at such a horrible time and in such a horrible way, maybe you would be happier. Now, the words sucked the air out of your lungs, leaving you speechless and uncertain. 

“So fuck what I wanted back then. What I want right now is for you to realize you deserve better than someone who broke your heart and your trust in the worst way possible,” he finishes, holding himself back from pulling you into his arms and screaming that it’s him. He’s the one who will give you everything you deserve; he’ll make it his life’s purpose to do so.

“I’m just hearing him out,” you repeat again, emphatically, though no matter how true it was or how believable you made it sound, Chan refuses to accept it. 

“Right,” he scoffs, running his hand through his hair. “Can’t wait to see you two all over each other in the corner of every party again.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he’s already heading for the door, unable to take another second of seeing your face and knowing you won’t be his. 

“Hope it works out, Y/N.”

The door rattles as he slams it shut, and the room feels colder, emptier. And not just because of Chan’s physical absence, but because of what it entails. The same man who you hated - and who you swore hated you - had made you feel more seen and valued in not even two months than Jaehyun had in nine. He had put more effort into a fake relationship than Jaehyun had put in a real one. You were letting that go for some semblance of closure from someone who broke you.

Previously, you had tried to convince yourself your feelings had never become real. That of course your heart would beat a little faster when Chan would remember things about you, that of course you would like the way pet names fell from his lips, that of course you couldn’t stop thinking about him in every single way possible, from pure to downright filthy. This all made sense, of course, because he was the hot guy you were faking a relationship with. It had nothing to do with Chan, and everything to do with your body and mind being too receptive of what you’d been deprived of before.

But you simply couldn’t lie to yourself any longer. And that’s why, for once, you knew what you needed to do. You type out another message to Jaehyun, deliberating each word carefully. It would be the last you’d ever give him, at least in this capacity, where he still felt like he had a small chance at getting you back.

actually, i’m not coming over. i thought about it, and nothing you say can make me forget what you did…i didn’t deserve that, jaehyun.

i know what i deserve now.

i hope you learn from this and treat the next girl better. 

His texts come in quick succession, frantic pleas and apologies and then the angry ones regarding Chan. You don’t answer him or even give him the solace of knowing you’d read them. Instead, you turn your phone on DND and throw it behind you, hoping it’ll get lost in your bed sheets. 

And though you’ve done the right thing, there’s still the unavoidable grief over something that once was. The only person you want comfort from right now is Chan, but you know you should give yourself the space to reflect and process properly. He probably wants some time away from you, anyways. 

So you don’t call or text him. You avoid all the spots you know he frequents. You make yourself as nonexistent to him as possible. And worst of all, he doesn’t even come searching. 

There’s no way for you to know how badly he wants to see your name pop up at the top of his screen, or how he waits for you outside the library on days he knows you usually study. You don’t know that he stayed up late that first night, hoping you’d call him. Each notification made his heart jump, and after the eighth one that wasn’t from you, he finally turned his phone off completely. 

He didn’t want space, nor time. He wanted you. And beyond that, he wanted you to know you deserved more - that he would give you more. But he can’t fault you for any of this; he can only blame himself for not telling you sooner. 

When a week goes by and it’s still silence on your end, he figures you’d forgiven Jaehyun and taken him back. And that’s just something he’d have to live with. 

The days pass by slowly, monotonously, and though you argue with Mina and Jihyo that it’s healing, they complain that you’re just wallowing in needless despair (“Girl, get your man,” had been the phrase of the week). 

And you wanted to, but you weren’t sure how to face him after the way you’d left things. There was a gnawing worry that he wouldn’t answer your calls or texts, so you don’t even try. No, you decide you’ll just have to show up at his apartment, and yes at nine o’clock at night, because you couldn’t put it off any longer. The yearning was almost consuming you. 

Though Chan had been to your dorm multiple times, you had never been to his apartment; it was way less convenient to go off-campus where he lived. You had to get Chan’s address from his roommate, Minho, who you had already known from a shared class last semester. And he had also texted you a few times begging you to do something about Chan’s moping, because it was “making his life miserable.” 

While it was off-campus, it wasn’t far, and your determination was enough to ward off the apprehension of walking alone at night (though Chan would definitely not be pleased). Still, you kept Jihyo on the phone for the whole fifteen minutes, slight reassurance for both of you. 

You can barely bring yourself to knock when you arrive, feeling much less composed now that you were actually there, separated from Chan by only a door and thin walls. Your fist meets the wood without you fully realizing it, and it swings open with ferocity moments later. 

“Hi,” you choke out, all of your composure gone when he’s standing before you.

“Y/N?” he asks, blinking in awe to confirm that you’re real. He’d started to accept that your presence in his life was a thing of the past, a treasured memory he’d hold onto. “What are you – Jesus, it’s so dark out. Come on, get inside.”

He reaches for your arm and drags you inside, leading you all the way to his room; Minho’s home, and Chan doesn’t quite want him to hear the moment the girl he’s been losing his mind over ends things for good. Is “end things” even the right term, since there had never been a defined “thing” in the first place? 

His room is not much different from any other college student’s room, with books and papers sprawled on the desk and empty energy drink cans filling the trashcan. But it’s his, and that makes your heart swell a little. 

“I can’t believe you walked all the way here this late,” he scolds. He gestures for you to take a seat on his bed, and when he sits in his chair across from you, you deflate a little at the distance.

“I had to see you,” you whisper.

He clicks his tongue, trying not to melt at your words. Because to him, you’re with Jaehyun, and there’s probably some other rational explanation for why you’d shown up at his apartment at nine o’clock. He doesn’t know what it could be, but it exists, surely. “You know if you had texted me I would’ve been there in minutes,” he asserts.

“Actually, I didn’t know that,” you correct, folding your arms over your chest, “considering the way you stormed out last time we saw each other.” Which may have been justified, but still. 

“Can you blame me? You told me you were going to see your ex boyfriend who cheated on you, by the way. And then you didn’t even bother to call or text, so what was I supposed to think?”

“You could’ve called or texted me!” 

“I thought you went back to him!” 

He stands, chest rising and falling heavily, and he looks so distraught your anger fades. “I didn’t,” you say, softer now. “I didn’t even see him that night. We haven’t even spoken since. Or I guess that’s not totally true, he’s spammed me and I’ve ignored him.”

His eyes soften, and he crosses those few feet to sit beside you, mattress dipping under the added weight. “Why?”

There’s a million ways to answer that question, and you aren’t sure which is the right one. So you go with what flows naturally, not giving it a second thought.

“Because I realized I need more too,” you confess. “No more pretending, no more lies.”

Though your chest feels lighter with the confession, the room feels smaller and your throat tighter because Chan doesn’t speak, or move, you don’t even think he blinks. He doesn’t mean to stare at you like this, but you’ve left him stunned with words he’d only ever heard in his dreams, and he worries if he speaks he’ll wake up and you’ll be gone again. 

You start to rise from the bed, fighting back tears of rejection and humiliation. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come  – ” 

His hand latches around your wrist, gently yet firmly, and you fall back to the bed with a quiet gasp.

“I haven’t been pretending. Not for a while now,” he breathes, and now you’re the silent one. “You’re right, I was a coward. I’ve wanted you so badly and I didn’t know how to say it.” He cups your cheek, thumb brushing along the skin faintly, confirmation that you and this moment are very real. “I should’ve told you everything. How much I think about you, how much I hate it when you’re not here.”

There’s hardly any space between you now, foreheads nearly touching, breaths intertwining. 

“How I can’t get that kiss out of my head,” he exhales. “How selfish I feel for wanting more.” 

You shake your head. “You’re not selfish,” you whisper, and the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. 

“I am, because I want you all to myself.”

“Then you have me,” you say simply, as though such a claim wouldn’t change everything. You’ve had me without even knowing. 

He can’t hold back anymore – he’s done enough of that over the past month – because those words are his absolute undoing. 

“Can I kiss you right this time?” His eyes drop to your lips, awaiting, begging for your permission. 

You nod eagerly, and that’s all it takes for him to place his hand along your jaw and draw your face towards his. His lips melt into your own, this time with all the passion you’d both held back before. 

And while the kiss starts soft, tender, moving against each other with the carefulness of a blooming love, it quickly plunges into desperate desire. Your fingers thread through his hair, delicately at first, until you tug at the roots and he groans into your mouth.

That sound. That devilish, sinful sound. It causes the heat within your core to grow tenfold, and you kiss him more fervently now, tongues swirling together. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, then drops his head to your neck.

And when your head tilts instinctively, offering him more skin to mark as his, he can’t help but smirk because he loves having this effect on you. He’d realized it that day at lunch, when he couldn’t do anything but skim your thigh under the table. But you were offering, so who was he not to take? He nips at the skin and runs his tongue along each spot afterwards, soothing, claiming. 

“Mine,” he mumbles against your neck, and then he kisses his way back up to your lips, mouth hovering over your own.

“Chan,” you rasp, “I want you.”

His lips crash against yours once more, because he can’t help himself when you’ve just said you want him so desperately. “Yeah? You want me, baby?” he asks, breathless.

You shiver when his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, tracing circles along your waist. “Yes,” you sigh, and then louder, “yes, God, I want you.”

He grips your waist, only sheer will keeping him from ripping off your clothes and fucking you right then and there. Because he wants to savor every last moment of this, but some small part of him is going feral – not a devil on his shoulder, but his throbbing cock trying to push through the seams of his boxers. So actually not a small part, because he’s big, you can see the imprint in his sweatpants.

 “Are you sure?” he questions. “Because if you want me, that’s it. There’s no more Jaehyun, no more anyone else.” 

Was he genuinely asking, or just trying to make you fall apart? You can’t tell, but you’re so needy, you answer regardless. 

“I don’t want anyone else.”

His hands hook under your shirt while he guides you onto his lap, and you raise your arms for him to pull it off while you settle against him. He pauses, drinking in the sight – you haven’t even taken your bra off yet – and then his palms find your breasts, massaging through the fabric.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, thumbs flicking over your covered nipples. The moan it elicits is so delicious that he does it again, and then again, cock twitching in his sweatpants.

“You only think that ‘cause I’m shirtless,” you quip, toying with the hem of his like you needed to make things even.

“No,” he says firmly. “Always thought you were the prettiest fucking girl ever.” He reaches behind his neck, yanking his tank top up and over his head, and you swear your breathing stops momentarily. This is what he’d hidden behind t-shirts and hoodies (and that jacket you still hadn’t given back to him), and honestly, how dare he?

But you can’t focus on that a moment longer, because he dips his head down to press his lips against the tops of your breasts hungrily, dragging wet kisses all the way to your sternum. “So fucking pretty,” he repeats, fingers unclasping your bra and tugging the straps down. 

His mouth is on you again before it even hits the ground, like he’ll keel over and die if he isn’t tasting you, and right now, he really thinks he might. So, for survival, he wraps his lips around your perked nipple, tongue swirling around it, then flicking. 

Each careful movement of his tongue causes your breath to hitch, hips rutting against him for any sort of friction, and he moans against you. His hands grip your waist, stilling your movements, and as a punishment – if you could call it that – he bites gently and tugs the sensitive bud between his teeth.

“Chan,” you moan, and when you feel the curl of that signature smirk, you become emboldened. “Who knew your mouth could actually be useful?”

Because although you definitely didn’t hate him now, you could at least reflect on that history, if not just to drive him a little wild. And hopefully he’d fuck you just a little bit harder. 

He growls then, his hand sweeping along your side to squeeze your other breast, kneading the soft skin in his palm. And when you least expect it, his hand comes down, slapping your breast with enough force to make you gasp.

“Fuck, I’m gonna miss that smart mouth of yours. Always thought it was so hot the way you’d act like you actually hated me,” he chuckles, now massaging the skin.

“I did hate you,” you rasp. You aren’t even sure if that’s true anymore, because you can’t think. His cock pressing into you has your mind in a frenzy. One where your only thoughts are of having him inside you, stretching you open, filling you up. 

When he lifts his head from your breasts, his eyes are dark, lidded, and boring right through you. Daring you to say it again. To lie and see where it gets you.

“You sure?” he whispers, tauntingly. “Because I always saw that look in your eyes.” His fingers dip lower, slipping into your panties, and he laughs when you shudder. “Deep down, you wanted to know all the filthy things I could do to this gorgeous body.”

Maybe you did. It matters little what you wanted back then, because you could only think of what you wanted right now, and his fingers were drifting dangerously close to it. But he was playing with you, not bringing them any further, waiting for your admission. 

“You flatter yourself,” you whisper. The wrong answer, clearly, because he pulls his fingers away, gripping your chin now. Forcing you to look at him, because he knows you won’t be able to keep up the act if he’s staring at you so intensely. 

“Say it’s not true then,” he orders.

You should be able to say it. You should be able to look him in the eyes and tell him he was once everything you wanted no part of. But he starts peppering open-mouthed kisses along your neck again, unfairly, and your voice betrays you. “It’s not true,” you mumble weakly.

Your fingers fly to his hair and tangle at the strands, but he won’t let you off that easily. Of course not. He grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. 

“No,” he growls. “Say it like you mean it.” 

His commands only add to the ache between your legs, and you accept that you can’t win. Your silence tells him everything, and he releases, hand patting your cheek like he pitied you. “That’s what I thought,” he hums, satisfied.

Your breathing becomes ragged when his hand trails down again, and this time you’re sure that he’ll relent and give you what your body was craving. Or maybe that was just you trying to convince yourself. 

“You never hated me. You hated that you knew I was better than your boyfriend,” he smirks, slipping his fingers into your jeans. They drag down, slowly, finally stopping right at your core. “You hated that you wanted to know what it would feel like if I touched you here,” he taunts, rubbing your pussy through the soaked fabric of your panties. 

“Shit, you’re this wet for me?” he groans, fingers gliding up and down, pressing harder when they pause at your clit. “I guess I was right, then.”

Any other time you would have been able to throw something sarcastic right back at him, but not now, not when he was teasing you like this. It was the closest he’d gotten to touching you where you so desperately needed him, and your hips buck unwittingly again. “Please, Chan. Need you,” you moan.

“Yeah, I know baby,” he coos. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you everything I’ve been dreaming about doing to you.”

And then you’re pushed off of him and onto the bed, hitting the sheets with a quiet squeal. The same fingers that had been rubbing your clothed pussy now hurriedly unbutton your jeans, and you lift off the bed slightly to help him drag them down along with your panties.

Once you’re completely naked before him, his movements lull, now taking in every inch of exposed skin. 

You feel like you’re drowning under his eyes, because the last person to see you like this had betrayed you, had touched someone that wasn’t you. This was the reality of infidelity – the insecurity, the nagging, cruel insecurity that seeped into places it shouldn’t. Because Chan would never.

And he sees it, too. The way you begin to falter and drift elsewhere. Your head turning against the pillow, refusing to face him.

“Hey,” he whispers, cupping your jaw, pulling your face back towards him. “Where’d you go, baby? Don’t hide from me, please.”

You swallow harshly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Not hiding. Just…worried I’m not enough,” you mumble, and the words break him. He hated Jaehyun before, but he despises him now, because he made you  – who he considered the most beautiful girl to ever grace the earth, even when you were calling him an idiot – feel less than. And that’s something Chan would spend the rest of his life undoing if he had to.

His thumb strokes your skin now, trying to wipe away the remnants of anyone’s touch that wasn’t his. “No, stop that. You’re more than enough. You’re perfect,” he says. 

Your cheeks heat up from the affirmations, and he kisses you to cement them. But it's short, subdued, as he moves further down, lips grazing your neck, your chest, then your navel. He sinks lower, hovering right above your cunt, spreading your legs apart. 

“So perfect for me,” he breathes, and you can feel the air hitting against you. “You’re mine now. You won’t have to worry about anyone else ever again.” 

The words can barely sink in before his tongue is on you, licking a slow, tantalizing stripe between your folds. It’s so sudden that your hips lift off the bed, and his hands come quick, wrapping around your thigh and pinning you down. He swipes his tongue again, and then he takes as much of your pussy into his mouth as he can, devouring what had been kept from him for too long.

“Fuck, Chan, please,” you moan, grabbing at his hair for something to ground you. He groans into you, both from your fingers tugging and the sound of you moaning his name like that. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he rasps. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive nub hard, tugging, releasing. Then, he swirls his tongue, creating a pattern that has your back arching, threatening to come undone. 

You’d thought about this. Lonely nights in your dorm, touching yourself at the thought of how he would look between your legs, about how his tongue would feel against you. But there was no way to anticipate this. He lapped at your pussy like he was starved and you were the only meal he’d get again. He’d like that, truthfully.

Your body is trembling by the time he draws his head back, and the lack of his warm tongue causes you to whine. “Patience, princess,” he coos. 

Before you can beg him to touch you again, he spits directly onto your cunt, letting his fingers spread it as if your slick wasn’t enough. And the action is so erotic, so filthy that your thighs clench involuntarily and he has to hold them open.

Two fingers push inside you, and his tongue is back, flicking your clit with urgency. He pumps them languidly, curling them against your g-spot and then pulling back until you’re almost empty. His name leaves your mouth through choked cries and it only drives him further, because he needs you to unravel just like this. His tongue circles your clit in rhythm with his fingers, hitting your sweet spot with each pump, and his pace quickens when he can tell you’re close. 

“Chan, please don’t stop!” you pant. “Fuck, I’m so close.” 

It’s all too much - his fingers, his tongue, the lewd noises of them bringing you to the edge. “Go on, baby, give it to me,” he coaxes. “Come on my tongue for me, just like that.”

With his permission (which was much more of a plea), you let go, throwing your head back against the pillow. Your whole body comes alive with the intensity of your orgasm, ripping through you in currents while he continues lapping at your pussy lazily. It’s only when he pulls his fingers out for the final time and sucks them clean that you come down, chest heaving. 

“My mouth sure is useful, huh?” he teases, laughing when you roll your eyes. 

His laughter is cut short when you sit up on your knees and tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, head lowering. Your intentions are clear, but he grips your shoulder, halting your movements. 

“No, no, princess, it’s okay,” he huffs, using his last bit of self-restraint. He can’t believe he’s turning down head from you, but right now, being buried inside you is his priority. 

You can’t believe it either, blinking up at him sweetly, eyes wide with confusion. “But I wanna return the favor,” you pout.

Jesus, were you an angel from above or a succubus from the depths of hell, he wonders?

“Fuck, I know, baby,” he groans. “But I need to be inside you, right now.”

He sounds so desperate that you feel like you’re in control now, and you reach for his cock through his sweatpants. Wrapping your fingers around it, stroking softly. “You wanna fuck me, Channie?” you purr. 

“Yes,” he growls, grabbing your wrist – all your control, gone. “You want it too, don’t you baby?” He stands, ridding himself of his sweats and boxers at once. His cock springs free, precum beading on the tip, and he cages you against the bed. “Or can you not take it? Hm? Is one all this pretty pussy can give me?”

The flip switches in you instantly, arms slithering around his neck, yanking him to you. His lips crash onto yours, all teeth and tongue, both of you at your neediest. When your hand slips down to stroke him, thumb spreading precum along his length, he lets out a low guttural sound into your mouth. 

“Baby, shit, you’re killing me,” he rasps.

“Can you die inside me, at least?” 

That he could do. Happily. Willingly. He reaches over you, pulling open a drawer and rummaging inside. And though you shouldn’t, you bring your hand to his wrist, stopping him. 

“I’m on the pill, if that helps,” you whisper. “I need to feel you, nothing else.” Your words are sinful but your eyes are so sweet, looking up at him like you’d break if he denied you. 

“Fuck, princess, you’re trouble,” he groans, shoving the drawer closed and bringing his hand to your cheek instead. He swipes away a few strands of hair that had fallen, trying to soak in every inch of your perfect face. 

“You love it,” you giggle.

“God, yes I do.”

He grasps his cock and fists it a few short times, then guides it along your pussy. Your slick coats his shaft immediately, slow drags making your head spin. And when he slaps the tip against your clit, you know he’s doing it just for that. To drive you crazy, to hear your whines, to see you writhing for it. For him. Would it be appropriate to call him a smug bastard again?

“Stop teasing,” you beg, your voice a strained whisper.

“But you’re so cute like this,” he says. “What’d you say again? ‘Everyone knows I wouldn’t fuck you?’”

You buck your hips against him, a poor retaliation, and he laughs, positioning himself at your entrance. “Well look at you now, princess.”

He presses into you just the smallest bit, enough for the tip to slip inside, still teasing when all you wanted was for him to plunge inside you and fuck you senseless. That small amount of pressure is gone in an instant, leaving you empty once more. 

“Chan,” you whimper. “Please just fuck me, I can’t take it.”

You might cry if he keeps this up, still sensitive from your last orgasm but so desperate for another. And while he wouldn’t mind driving you to that point, his cock is painfully hard. Even he’s at his limit. 

“Oh, baby, you’re gonna take it,” he taunts, thrusting forward in one swift motion. He bottoms out and stays there, immobile, reveling in your cunt stretching around him. “Fuck. Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.”

“Would feel more amazing if you would move,” you hiss, and he actually listens. His hips snap against you with a purpose, slow and deep, watching every inch sink further. 

Each thrust reaches that sweet spot that has your back arching and nails digging into him. You can already feel the fire building inside you again, clenching around him in a way that has him wondering if you’re a dream. “Fuck, your pussy was made for me,” he groans, hips bucking faster now. Less restraining and savoring, more adhering to his primal urge to fill you up entirely.

“Funny. Jaehyun said the same thing,” you pant. You aren’t sure where the confidence comes from, especially when he’s the one pounding into you; maybe he’s fucking the attitude back into you. But you know it’ll get you into trouble, the good kind of trouble, the kind where Chan wrecks you mercilessly. 

And oh, he does. He thrusts wilder, rougher, almost carelessly, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing throughout the room. 

“Yeah? Well he fucking lied, baby,” he growls. “Because you feel that?” His hand presses down on your stomach. “That’s all me. My cock you’re squeezing like a fucking vice.”

His hand slides down, thumb rubbing tight circles against your clit. The added sensation brings you closer to the edge, and he’s nearly there as well. “Chan, oh my god,” you moan, nails dragging along his bicep. 

“You’re so tight,” he grunts. “Did he ever fuck you right?” He won’t even say the name, because it holds no meaning now. You’re his, and he’ll fuck you enough times that you won’t remember anyone else. 

Your walls clench harder around him, his thumb circling relentlessly. “No,” you cry. “Not like you. Not like this.” That answer satisfies him, and he pulls back all the way just to slam into you harder.

“I didn’t think so,” he muses. He leans down, nipping at your neck. “Forget about him. All you need to remember is me and my cock ruining you like this.” 

You’d already forgotten, only able to think about how Chan was the one currently fucking into you like he had something to prove. You’re so close to release, strangled cries of his name escaping your lips while your thighs clench around him. “Ah, Chan, I’m gonna come!” you whimper.

“Fuck, me too, baby,” he grunts. “You want me to fill you up? Leave your pussy leaking with my cum?”

His words are your final propulsion, and he emphasizes them with each rut of his hips. Your back arches off the bed, face contorting in pure euphoria, and Chan commits the image to memory. It matters little that he knows he’ll see it many, many more times; he wants to watch you ride every single high until the end of time. 

Your orgasm washes over you, setting every inch of your body aflame, and you want more. More of him. All of him. “Yes! Please fill me up, please,” you beg, voice breaking from the overstimulation. 

He can’t deny you, doesn’t want to deny you, and he couldn’t anyways. You’ve basically sucked him in, legs keeping him held in place. He thrusts into you one final time, a low groan emitting from someplace deep within, hips jerking erratically as thick, white strings of cum spurt inside of you.

When you’ve milked every last drop from him, he pulls out from your spent heat and falls to the bed dramatically, limbs flopping as if he’s dead. And maybe he is, because that was definitely heaven. 

You lay there side by side, chests rising and falling in sync, staring at the ceiling like it might offer an explanation for what just happened. How you ended up like this, his cum dripping from you, your scratches welting along his back, when just months ago you couldn’t stand each other. Supposedly. 

Then comes a knock on the door, and you both are struck with the realization that you’d forgotten Minho was home, in another room, hearing everything. Or rather, Chan had forgotten, and you’d never known. Never even considered it. 

“Are you two done in there?” he calls from outside. You lift your head and look at Chan with wide eyes, and he shrugs like he’s just as clueless.

“Uh, yeah,” Chan shouts back. You bury yourself under the sheets, expecting the door to swing open. Thankfully, it doesn’t. But the alternative might be worse.

“Y/N, when I asked you for help, I didn’t mean by moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors in my apartment.”

Minho’s footsteps pad away from the door, and you pull back the sheets, horrified. “Was I really that loud?!” you exclaim. He hadn’t said anything about your volume or even tried to quiet you, and you were far too consumed to notice. 

“A little…” Chan rubs his neck sheepishly.

You wish you could melt into the bed and disappear forever, because how would you ever face Minho again? And their poor neighbors, no less. The walk of shame was going to be unbearable. “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing!” you groan. 

He shakes his head vehemently and kisses your forehead, a small reassurance. “No! No, baby, it was so hot,” he coos. And then it hits him. “Wait. Minho asked you for help?”

“I guess you were going crazy without me,” you smirk. This time he groans, and you laugh, nuzzling into his neck. “Don’t worry. You’re not getting rid of me now.”

“Like I’d ever want to,” he whispers. 

Too loud. Too confident. Too all over the place.

Every class, every group chat, every hallway you tried to exist in—he was there. Smirking. Teasing. Rolling his eyes at your notes, talking over you during discussions, always finding ways to get under your skin like it was a personal hobby.

But your girls had insisted. “You need a break. You need tequila.”

So you’d gone.

Lip gloss, crop top, shots lined up like soldiers.

By midnight, the living room was a haze of heat and laughter. Someone had started a game of truth or dare with twisted rules. Everyone was half-drunk and full of bad ideas.

You should’ve seen it coming. The moment your turn came and the bottle pointed at you, a few smirks lit up around the circle like a warning.

“Okay,” Layla grinned, “truth or dare?”

You hesitated. Truth was safe. Predictable. But everyone had been choosing it all night, and you’d mocked them for it. Now it was your turn to be bold.

“Dare.”

Layla didn’t hesitate.

“Send a nude to Seo Changbin… or run a full lap around the football field naked. With a suction dildo stuck to your forehead.”

The room howled.

Someone immediately got up to rummage in a drawer. “I have the dildo!”

Your stomach dropped.

You tried to laugh it off, eyes wide. “Are you fucking insane?”

“You’ve got beef with him, right?” someone snorted.

“This is perfect.”

“You’re always bickering, it’ll shake him up.”

It wasn’t the nudity that scared you. It wasn’t even Changbin.

It was what was already in your camera roll.

A photo you’d taken months ago during a particularly filthy night, when you were feeling reckless and painfully needy. The lights had been low, your skin warm, your thoughts wicked. You’d spread yourself wide open on the sheets, wet and glistening, lips parted, your own fingers pulling at your skin. Your face was in it. Your expression ruined.

You had stared at it afterward, thinking: This is too much. No one can ever see this.

But you hadn’t deleted it.

And now… your hand hovered over it. Over the send button. The whole room was watching you, waiting.

You felt drunk. Braver than you should’ve been.

So you said, too calmly, “Fine.”

And tapped send.

It only took thirty seconds for regret to sink in like poison.

What had you just done?

He was going to lose his mind. Or worse, not react at all. He could ruin you. Show people. Mock you in class. Bring it up next time you tried to speak during a lecture.

You curled into the couch, face hot, eyes burning from the alcohol and the humiliation chewing through your stomach. Your phone buzzed once.

Then twice.

You turned it over.

Changbin 💢:

Did you mean to send that?

You stared at your phone like it had grown teeth.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Every possible answer felt wrong. You almost typed “ignore it”, but deleted it. Then you typed:

“It was a dare. Just forget it.”

Another ping.

Changbin 💢:

That’s not the kind of photo you send as a dare.

You swallowed.

Your face was burning. All the background noise in the living room—the music, the laughter, the clinking glasses—faded to a soft murmur. The heat of the dare was starting to wear off, replaced by a sick rush of adrenaline and humiliation.

Changbin 💢:

Jesus fucking Christ.

I… I didn’t know you looked like that.

You’ve been walking around class with that between your legs?

You tightened your thighs instinctively.

You typed:

“It was a stupid dare. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

But he wasn’t letting it go.

Changbin 💢:

You already had that pic?

That wasn’t a selfie. That was planned.

You took that for someone. You were gonna send it eventually.

You bit your lip.

“It’s old. I never sent it to anyone.”

Changbin 💢:

That makes it worse.

You paused.

“Why?”

Changbin 💢:

Because I’ve never wanted to fuck someone I hate more than I do right now.

You looked so good. So fucking wet. Like you needed someone to take care of it.

You blinked.

Your stomach flipped. The burn between your legs sharpened. You weren’t sure if it was arousal or pure nerves—probably both.

“This is insane.”

“You’re insane.”

“You’re still the asshole who makes me want to throw things in class.”

You deleted it all.

Instead:

“You’ve seen it now. Can you just forget it?”

The reply came back instantly.

Changbin 💢:

No fucking way.

Changbin 💢:

You’re seriously gonna act like you didn’t send that on purpose? Like you don’t want me thinking about it?

Changbin 💢:

You want me hard for you, don’t you?

“No.” “Fuck off.” “Stop.”

You didn’t send any of those.

“You’re full of yourself.”

Changbin 💢:

Nah, princess. You’re the one dripping in that pic, not me.

You closed your eyes.

He was unraveling you.

The way he talked in person was always irritating—too loud, too smug. But here? In text? At 1:03 a.m.?

He was… different. Sharper. Controlled. Bold in a way that went straight to your core.

“You’re lucky I’m drunk.”

Changbin 💢:

You think I need you drunk for this?

I’d still be hard for you even if we were sober in the library.

You bit back a noise.

Your thighs rubbed together involuntarily.

Changbin 💢:

You want me to send something back? Would that make it fair? Even the score?

Your fingers twitched.

“You’re bluffing.”

Changbin 💢:

Try me.

Your pulse quickened.

“You’re not actually going to—”

Ping.

The photo loaded slowly.

Dark sweatpants. No shirt. His abs were tight, skin glowing with a warm amber sheen like he’d taken the pic right after a workout. His hand tugged the waistband down low, and the bulge beneath was unmistakable—huge, thick, pressed to the fabric like it was dying to be freed.

You inhaled, sharp.

The outline of his cock was ridiculous. Heavy. Thick at the base, curving up. The tip clearly outlined. The kind of size that made your body react before your brain caught up.

And his caption?

Changbin 💢:

Now you can imagine what’s gonna fill you the next time you talk back in class.

You didn’t realize your mouth had gone dry until you swallowed hard.

Someone from the living room called your name. “Babe! Your turn!”

“I’ll be right back,” you called, voice strained.

You grabbed your phone, pushed off the couch, and disappeared into the hallway. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere you could breathe.

And think.

And maybe—just maybe—look again.

Because for the first time since you’d met him, you weren’t sure if you hated him… or if you just didn’t know what to do with how badly you suddenly wanted him.

—

You thought you could outlast the tension.

After the photo he sent—the dick print, the way it looked too big to even be real, the caption that made your thighs clench—you told yourself it was just late-night chaos. That once the sun came up, you could pretend it hadn’t happened.

You left him on read.

Muted the conversation.

Avoided every look in class, kept your expression cold, distant.

But Changbin?

He was different now.

Quieter. Sharper. Dangerous.

He still joked with the guys. Still sat in the same row as always. But whenever your eyes flicked up, he was watching you—really watching. Like he could still see that photo of you spread open and dripping every time you bit your lip or crossed your legs.

And when your professor assigned a partner project and called out his name alongside yours?

You knew it was over.

Later that afternoon, the library was quiet. Too quiet. The air between you was thick with something unsaid as you stood beside where he sat, laptops open, pretending to focus.

You tried not to look at him.

Tried not to remember the outline of his cock stretching grey fabric. The way he’d said “what’s gonna fill you next time you talk back in class.”

Your body hadn’t forgotten.

You’d touched yourself to that image more times than you were ready to admit.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured, eyes on the screen.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m working.”

“Right.”

“That’s what you were doing the other night too, huh? Working?”

You stiffened.

“I didn’t take you for the type to keep that kind of photo in your phone. Or was it just waiting for someone better to see it?”

You finally turned. “Are you done?”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, smirking—but something darker hid behind his eyes. He leaned in towards you, low and quiet.

“No. Not even close.”

You didn’t notice when he stood. But you did feel it when he moved behind you.

At first, it was just his hand brushing your shoulder as he leaned to peek at your screen.

Then he didn’t move away.

Instead, you felt the heavy press of his chest behind you. His palm slid slowly—casually—over your back. Lower. Resting at the curve of your waist.

And then he shifted—just slightly—and you felt it.

The unmistakable weight of him.

Hard. Thick. Pressed right up against your ass.

Your breath hitched.

“Miss me?” he whispered.

Your cheeks burned. “You’re disgusting.”

“Am I?”

“Because this…” his hand flattened against your hip, pulling you subtly back into his body, into his cock—“says otherwise.”

You should’ve shoved him.

Should’ve snapped, slapped, screamed.

But your body betrayed you.

Your thighs clenched. Your breathing went shallow.

And when his fingers brushed the hem of your skirt, you didn’t move away.

If anything—you leaned back.

“You liked it,” he murmured, lips just behind your ear.

“You liked knowing I saw you like that. That I wanted to fuck you from the second that photo lit up my screen.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, voice dropping lower, hungrier. “But your body doesn’t agree.”

His hand slid lower, palm resting on your ass now—really grabbing, squeezing, like it was his already. He rutted against you once, slow, just enough to let you feel the size of him again.

You gasped, barely holding in the noise.

“Poor thing,” he whispered.

“Trying so hard to act like you don’t want this cock stretching you open.”

You closed your eyes. “We’re in a fucking library.”

“And you’re soaked,” he growled. “Aren’t you?”

You were.

You hated him for it.

But God—you wanted more.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice a low rumble in your ear.

“Tell me you don’t want me pushing these panties to the side and sliding in right here.”

You didn’t say anything.

And neither did your body.

Because for the first time, you weren’t sure who was in control—him, or the ache between your legs screaming for more.

His grip on your waist didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened—fingers flexing into the curve of your hips like he wanted to memorize the way you fit under his hands.

You told yourself to move.

To snap out of it.

To shove his cocky ass away and slap the heat off your face.

But instead… you shifted.

Barely. Subtly. Almost like a breath.

Your hips arched back just the tiniest bit—and you felt him twitch.

Big. Hot. Hard against you.

And god help you, you did it again.

This time, he chuckled. Low and raspy.

“Keep doing that and I’m gonna take it personally.”

His voice buzzed against the shell of your ear, warm and wicked.

“I can swear you’re wet.”

“I’m not,” you breathed, barely able to form the words.

“No?”

One of his hands slid from your hip, slipping lower, slow and deliberate. Your skirt offered no protection—his fingers eased beneath the hem with practiced ease, knuckles brushing your thigh.

“Then you won’t mind if I check.”

You gasped. “Changbin—”

But it was too late.

His hand slid up. Under your skirt. Under your panties.

And then—his fingers paused.

Right at your slit.

Slick. Dripping. Heat soaked through cotton and flushed onto his fingertips.

He let out a quiet groan, something dark and pleased.

“Fuck me…”

You froze.

“You’re soaked.”

You should’ve died of embarrassment.

Instead, you whimpered—barely, breath catching in your throat. Your thighs twitched, instinctively trying to close, but his hand was already there, slipping further, middle finger pressing through the wetness and parting you open.

“Look at that,” he muttered. “Fighting me in public, dripping for me in private.”

“You can’t—” you whispered, but your voice cracked halfway through.

“I can,” he said. “And I am.”

His fingertip circled your entrance, not quite pushing in. Just enough to tease. To test how badly your body wanted him.

And it did.

God, it did.

“All this just from my picture?” he murmured. “You really are a dirty little thing.”

“Changbin, we’re—someone could—”

“Then stay quiet,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear. “Be a good girl and let me feel what you’ve been hiding from me.”

You squirmed against him, helpless. His hard-on grinding into your ass. His hand between your legs. Your body betraying everything your mouth refused to say.

But then—he pulled back. Slow. Measured and wicked.

“Not here,” he muttered. “Not yet.”

You let out a shaky exhale, unsure if it was relief or frustration.

“You’re not ready.”

He said it like a promise. Even more like a plan.

—

That night, your phone lit up before midnight.

Changbin 💢

You touching yourself right now?

You swallowed, heat curling in your stomach.

“No.”

A lie.

You’d been thinking about his finger, barely there, slicking through your folds. The way he pressed against you like he could fuck you through your clothes. The restraint he showed—pulling away just when you were about to lose it.

Changbin 💢:

Liar. You were dripping earlier. You think that goes away?

Changbin 💢:

You want help?

Your breath caught.

Then another message.

📷 An image.

A mirror selfie. Taken low. No shirt. Sweatpants slung low on his hips. But this time… no filter, no teasing.

His cock was hard. So obvious. Thick and curving up in those grey sweats, the head visibly straining against the fabric. His hand was wrapped around the base, gripping himself through the material.

Your core clenched.

Changbin 💢:

You made me like this. Do something about it.

Another ping.

🎧An audio file.

You hesitated… then tapped.

His voice—low, breathless, filthy—filled your room.

“Wish you were here right now. I’d be in you already. So deep you’d cry. Want you moaning my name with your thighs wrapped around my waist.”

You bit your knuckle.

“Bet you’re wet again just hearing this.”

You were.

And you knew damn well… this was only the beginning because it was obvious that you knew you should stop.

Mute the chat. Turn your phone off. Go to sleep.

But instead, you hit play again.

Changbin’s voice filled your room for the second time, low and unsteady.

“Wish you were here right now. I’d be in you already. So deep you’d cry. Want you moaning my name with your thighs wrapped around my waist.”

Your hand had already slipped under the waistband of your shorts. Shame curled hot in your chest, but it wasn’t enough to stop you.

Not with his voice saying things like that.

Not when your body was still aching from what he’d done in the library.

You typed, hesitant:

“You’re a menace.”

Changbin 💢:

And you’re quiet. You touching yourself again?

“No.”

Changbin 💢:

You’re such a bad liar.

Another ping. Another message.

Changbin 💢:

Say my name once, and I’ll show you the real thing. But let me hear how down bad you are first.

Your legs squeezed together.

He wasn’t letting up.

Not just the teasing — the control. The way he peeled you open without even being in the same room. It was like he’d figured out every weakness you had and was pressing on all of them at once.

You typed:

“You want me to say your name?”

Changbin 💢:

Just once. Out loud. Right now.

I know you’re touching yourself, i just want to hear you.

Your heart pounded. You stared at the audio reply button. Your thumb hovered.

“I’m not sending you a voice note.”

Changbin 💢:

Why not?

You’re already soaked. Already picturing it, aren’t you?

Changbin 💢:

Me pulling your legs apart. Spitting on your pussy.

Sliding in nice and slow while you beg me to ruin it.

You let out a shaky breath.

Changbin 💢:

C’mon, baby.

Be a good girl and let me hear how badly you want it.

The words good girl punched straight through your resolve.

Your finger hovered over the record button.

You didn’t overthink it. Didn’t script it. But at the back of your mind, you knew shouldn’t have done it.

You knew the second you hit record—you were crossing a line you couldn’t uncross. But the heat in your stomach, the ache between your legs, the way Changbin’s voice still echoed in your ears? It all left you trembling.

So you moaned. You whimpered.

And you said his name.

“Changbin…”

You sounded so fucking needy. So shameless and desperate.

Exactly how you felt.

You hit send with your heart in your throat, thighs clenched tight around your own hand. And then you waited—seconds dragging, breath caught in your chest.

Then: ping.

🎥A video.

No caption. No warning.

You hesitated, pulse in your ears, then tapped it.

The first thing you saw was skin—his hand, wrapped tight around the base of his cock. Thick. Hard. Heavy. His head was a darker shade of his skin, glistening with precum, veins running thick along the shaft.

The next thing you heard?

His voice. Ragged. Strained.

“This what you want, baby?”

He was filming from above, cock in his fist, his abs flexing as he pumped slowly, steadily. Each stroke was loud and wet. His hand moved like he was imagining you were already wrapped around him—tight, dripping, ruined.

“Been jerking off since you moaned my name,” he growled. “You sound so fucking pretty when you’re begging.”

You bit your lip so hard it almost bled.

“Wanna cum in you so bad,” he panted. “Wanna watch it drip out of you. Want you to feel it for days.”

And then—he grunted. Shuddered.

And came.

Ropes of it. Thick spurts shooting across his abs, the head of his cock twitching violently in his grip.

“That’s all for you,” he breathed, voice wrecked.“Next time, I’m doing that inside.”

The video ended, but you were done for.

You stared at your screen like it had punched you in the stomach. Heat licked down your spine. Your hand had slipped between your legs again before you even realized it.

You replayed the video.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

You wanted to taste it. Feel it. Be under it.

Then your screen lit up again.

Changbin 💢:

You still there?

Your fingers trembled. You didn’t even overthink it.

You typed:

“I need you.”

[📍Location Shared]

And hit send.

—

You barely had time to think.

One knock. That’s all it took.

You opened the door and he was on you—mouth crashing into yours, body pinning you flat against the wall like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

He kissed like a man possessed.

Like your voice note had ruined him. Like your moan had carved something primal into his chest and he couldn’t shake it loose.

His tongue slid past your lips, rough and greedy, tasting you like he had to claim you first.

“Fuck,” he growled against your mouth. “Took you long enough.”

You barely had time to respond—his hands were already under your shirt, palming your tits like they were his, thumbs flicking your nipples until you whimpered.

“This all for me?” he asked, breath hot.

“This pussy been soaking since the second I sent that video?”

You gasped as he shoved one leg between yours, grinding up against your clothed heat—his cock already hard, pressing through his sweats like a weapon.

“God,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Can’t wait anymore.”

He picked you up like you weighed nothing, carried you into your own apartment without breaking the kiss, and dropped you—hard—onto the kitchen counter.

Before you could speak, your shorts were yanked down and off. Your panties, too. Ripped aside with one rough pull.

“Fucking knew it,” he muttered as he spread you open. “Look at this wet little pussy. So damn ready for me.”

“You’re such a—”

“Say it,” he snarled, two fingers sliding through your folds, circling your clit just right.

“Say it while I ruin you.”

You choked on a moan, hips jerking up. His fingers dipped inside—thick, slow, curling—testing you.

“Tight,” he hissed. “So fuckin’ tight already.

How the hell you gonna take my cock, baby?”

You looked down—and froze.

He’d pushed his sweats down just enough, and there it was. All of it.

His cock was thick. Long. Veiny. Angry-red at the tip, already leaking. You’d seen the outline. You’d watched him stroke it on video. But up close?

It was fucking terrifying.

And you wanted every inch.

“I’m gonna mess you up real pretty.” he whispered, dragging the head through your slick folds.

“You’re not walking tomorrow.”

You whimpered, thighs trembling.

“Changbin—fuck—”

“What’s that, princess?” he smirked. “You scared of this cock now?”

“Shut the fuck up and give it to me.”

That was all he needed.

He lined up and slammed in—

The stretch was obscene. Your back arched, a broken cry ripped from your throat. He didn’t wait. Didn’t tease. He bottomed out in one brutal stroke, hips snapping forward until his balls slapped against you.

“FUCK,” he growled, head dropping to your shoulder. “Tight little cunt’s squeezing the shit outta me.”

You clawed at his back, desperate to breathe, but it felt too good. The way he filled you—so deep, so thick—you felt him in your stomach.

“Took it all, huh?” he rasped, pulling back just to thrust in harder. “Greedy little thing.”

He fucked you like he meant it. Like he was punishing you for every time you rolled your eyes in class. For every time you told him to shut up.

You were moaning like a pornstar—loud, shameless, wrecked—as he pounded into you on the kitchen counter, sweat dripping, his abs flexing with every thrust.

“You were made for this cock,” he groaned. “Fucking built to take it like a good girl.”

He pulled out suddenly, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you into the living room.

“Bed’s too far. Couch. Now.”

You stumbled, legs shaking. He bent you over the armrest, slapped your ass once—hard—and buried himself inside again with a brutal snap of his hips.

“This ass…” he groaned. “You know how many times I’ve stared at it in class?”

“Wanted to fuck you bent over all the damn desks.”

Your moans were broken now—choked sobs of pleasure every time his hips slammed into you.

He wrapped his hand around your throat, not too tight—just enough to own you.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled. “Big cock splitting you open. My hand on your neck. My cum dripping out of you.”

“Yes—fuck—yes, Changbin, please—”

“Please what?”

“Please don’t stop.”

His grip tightened. His thrusts turned savage.

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he warned. “I want it leaking down your thighs when you go to class tomorrow. I want everyone to know this pussy’s mine.”

You clenched around him—hard—and he lost it.

“Fuck—fuck—baby—”

He came deep inside you, groaning like he was unraveling from the core. Hot spurts filling you up, cock twitching inside your walls.

You collapsed forward, shaking.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out, flipped you onto the rug, and dropped to his knees.

“Need to taste you.”

His tongue went straight to your core, licking up his own mess, spreading it across your folds as he devoured you like he’d starved for days.

“Not leaving till you cum on my face.”

And you did.

Screaming his name. Shaking. Barely able to think.

Your first mistake had been sending that photo.

But your biggest mistake?

Letting him in.

Because now?

You’d never get him out.

—

You couldn’t move.

You were sprawled out on your back on the rug, blinking at the ceiling, your entire body throbbing with the aftershocks of what he’d just done to you. You felt wrecked in the best, most glorious way.

And yet—somehow—Changbin was the one panting like he’d just gone through hell.

He lay beside you, arm thrown over his face dramatically.

“I’m filing a formal complaint,” he groaned. “Your pussy should come with a fucking warning label.”

You wheezed out a laugh.

“Says the guy who just broke my uterus.”

He turned his head, looked at you.

And melted.

The shift was instant—his gaze softened, mouth twitching into the tiniest smile. He scooted closer, propped himself on one elbow, and brushed your sweaty hair off your cheek.

“You okay?” he asked, voice gentle. “Like… really okay?”

You nodded. “More than okay.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for ten years. Then leaned in and kissed your forehead, your nose, your cheekbone—everywhere but your lips, like he was saving those for dessert.

“I swear I didn’t mean to fuck you like a caveman,” he mumbled. “I blacked out. You made that sound and I was just—gone.”

“You were terrifying,” you whispered, smiling. “In the hottest possible way.”

That made him grin.

He reached over for the hoodie he’d left slung on the chair and helped you into it—actually helped, like lifting your arms, guiding it over your head, kissing your shoulder once it was on.

Then he grabbed a warm towel, knelt between your legs, and started cleaning you up with the softest, most careful touch.

“Can’t have my girl leaking all over the carpet,” he murmured.

“Your girl?”

He looked up with a cocky smirk.

“You just let me raw dog you and you screamed my name for the neighbors, baby. Don’t play shy now.”

You tried to glare, but he leaned forward and kissed your knee. Then your thigh. Then higher.

“Next time,” he said, “I’m taking you slower. Gonna edge you until you’re crying.”

Your stomach flipped.

“You’re already thinking about next time?”

He glanced up at you with a boyish little shrug.

“I think about you all the time.”

Your heart stuttered. Because it didn’t sound like a line. It sounded real. Raw. Like the truth.

He saw your expression shift and leaned in, his lips brushing your temple.

“Not just the sex,” he murmured.

“I think about you when you fight with the professor. When you tie your hoodie strings in knots. When you roll your eyes at me like you always do.”

“Binnie—”

“I like you,” he whispered.

Simple. Honest.

And it hit you harder than any orgasm.

You buried your face in his chest. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, one big palm cupping the back of your head like he could hide you there forever.

“You hungry?” he murmured.

“Starving.”

“Good. I got us pizza and fried chicken.”

You looked up. “You really ordered food while I was moaning your name?”

He smirked. “Actually did it on my way here but I can multitask baby.”

You laughed into his chest, and he kissed your head again.

When the food arrived, you sat curled in his lap, eating from his chopsticks while he kissed sauce off your lips between bites.

Later, when you were tucked into bed and halfway to sleep, he whispered:

“You were fucking perfect tonight.”

“I’m gonna be addicted to you now.”

You didn’t say anything back. You just pulled his arm tighter around you and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.

Because you already were.

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

Authors note: Its been a hot minute without a Binnie smut 💪🏻 How are we liking this cute little enemies to lovers?? 🤭❤️

“What do they want daddy,” She whines, and a few of them have the grace to look chagrined, “I wanna show you the whales!”

“One second sweetheart,” He growls, forcing himself to keep his face neutral as these fucking extras shove pieces of paper into his hands. They move in closer, until his broad shoulders are flush against the cool glass, and he doesn’t immediately notice the lack of the tugging on his pants, the silence where usually a barrage of questions would be, but after about sixty seconds he looks down, and Sana is gone. All neutrality melts from his face, he whirls around, looking desperately. “Fuck off,” He snaps, jogging away from the people moving down the hallway. “Sana,” He calls, running down the tunnel where Manta rays float above your head, and past bright tropical fish, his heart pounds, could it have been a villain, how could he have let his fucking guard down like that-

-and there she is, bright giggles spilling from her lips, facing an aquarium employee who’s squatting in front of her in khaki shorts and a bright green polo.

“Don’t cry,” You coo, making huge bubbles with your hand that spill into the empty room, opalescent spheres that catch the light and pop when they brush anything solid. Bakugou spots the tear tracks on his daughter’s face and moves towards her but you slot your body between him and the little girl.

“Can I help you sir?” He blinks a couple times, so angry his hands are shaking, counting slowly in his head, down from ten, just like his therapist taught him.

“That’s my daughter.” he barely manages to get the words out and Sana leaps from behind you, climbing right up his leg like the worlds cutest spider monkey.

“All those people were scary,” She hiccups, “I didn’t like it.” Bakugou sighs, rubbing a comforting circle on her back.

“My fault.” He mutters, “All daddy’s fault, alright, let’s uh, let’s go home.” Sana starts to kick and scream in his arms.

“NO!” She yells. “I WANTED TO SEE MORE OF THE BELUGAS?” She bursts into tears. “They were rude, so now WE have to leave? That’s not f-f-fair.” Bakugou sighs, bouncing her a little, searching for the right words, when you take a step forward, and speak.

“Um, sorry, Mr. Um, Mr. Dynamight.” He regards you coolly, you look a little sheepish, perhaps, he thinks, for not recognizing him sooner. “If um, you’d like,” You glance down the manta ray tunnel, “I’m closing up tonight. If you come by at 7 I can give you a tour after closing, in exchange for you posting something about kids not throwing garbage in the ocean or something on Instagram.” He swallows. “It’s um,” you look so genuinely concerned that he softens a little, heart rate slowing, “She’s right, it’s not fair.”

“PLEASE DADDY!” Sana screams in his ear, leaning back, begging, grabbing one of his cheeks.” The huge man shifts his weight a little, considering, as Sana runs her hands down a huge scar, running down from the side of his face down under his thin t shirt. Sana turns back to you, “Sing the song pleeeeeeeeeeeeasseeee,” she begs, bending her back, trying to squirm out of the pro hero’s arms. You face burns with subtle embarrassment, your eyes flicking to Bakugou’s face, he was unbelievably, ridiculously handsome, and you were about to ruin any chance you had with him, even in the worlds ugliest work uniform.

“Baby beluga,” you sing softly, “Baby beluga,” Sana wipes her tears, away, totally focused on you, “Is the water warm, is your daddy home, with you, so happy, baby, beluga,” Bakugou watches Sana soften and reach for you, singing along.

“Baby, beluga, in the deep blue sea,” she sings, “Swim so wild and and you swim so free.” She turns back to Bakugou, “Your turn daddy!”

“Alright, Sana,” he rasps, “Let the lady do her job.”

“Can we come back later? Please?” She begs. He looks at you carefully.

“You won’t get into trouble?” He asks, eyes narrowing and you laugh.

“Of course not.” You smile warmly, “Besides, you risk your life every day for us. I think I can risk a talking to from my boss if you forget to post about being here.” He nods.

“I’ll have my manager take care of it,” He shifts Sana’s weight in muscled arms, looking even larger somehow with his daughter in them. “Seven?” You nod, and there’s a noise as more people start coming down the manta ray hallway in search of the number two pro hero.

“There’s a backdoor.” You say quickly, and he nods gratefully. You lead him around a corner into the empty gift shop, moving briskly through the racks of multi colored t-shirts and stuffed animals. Sana grabs a beluga whale plushie just as people start to filter into the gift shop, so you pick up the pace, pushing the metal door to the exit open.

“Put that back,” Bakugou hisses, as the crowd of people moves closer.

“It’s fine.” you say quickly, looking at the people taking pictures. “I’ll pay for it.”

“I can’t let you-” He growls.

“Get out,” you say pointedly, customer service smile never leaving your face, “Seriously, she doesn’t like the cameras.” He looks sharply down at Sana, who’s cowering against his chest. “She told me.” You say urgently and he nods,

“Thank you.” He darts out the exit into the mid afternoon sun.

“Why do people do that?” Sana sniffs, taking a fistful of his t-shirt. “I hate going places with you daddy.” There’s a silence, Bakugou holds her tightly enough so that she can’t look up and see the wetness in his eyes.

“I dunno, sweetheart.” he says after a long moment. “We’ll come back okay? Tonight.” She nods slowly. “Hey,” he coos, as she snuggles her new stuffed animal, “That fella got a name?” She nods.

“If it had teeth I’d name it after Uncle Kirishima,” She considers, “But it’s so soft,” She squeezes it tightly. “What do you think of ummmm,” she pauses, “SOFIA, like SOFIA THE FIRST!” He laughs lightly.

“We’ll have fun tonight, okay, no people, just you and me and uh,”

“Y/n.” She finishes happily. “With the bubble quirk.” Bakugou nods, the image of your soft smile, and how embarrassed you’d looked singing in front of him tattooed on the back of his eyelids. He thinks now, of the way you’d just shoved yourself in front of Sana when you thought he was a strange man barreling towards a lost girl.

“Y/n.” He repeats. “Yeah, and the belugas.”

“Of course,” She rolls her eyes, “Daddy the belugas will be there because that’s where they live!” He nods and lets her squirm out of his arms, leading her back to his car. At 6:15 Bakugou’s in the bathroom, shaving, while Sana plays with her toys. He listens to the way she gives each stuffed animal their own voice, and hears her words from earlier echo in his head. I hate going places with you daddy. He swallows, examining his face in the mirror, his scars, the dark circles under his eyes, the white hairs mixed in with the blonde. He warms some hair wax on his hands, styling his undercut carefully, unsure of who he’s doing it for.

He arrives 15 minutes early, according to the website, you close at 6:30 and he’s relieved to see only a couple cars in the parking lot. Sana bounces excitedly next to him as you push the heavy door open.

“I’m early.” He says, and you smile brightly.

“I had a feeling you might be,” you wave them inside, “Sana are you ready for the exclusive tour?”

“Yes!” She squeals, dancing in her little plastic jelly shoes, the ones with glitter that she’d begged for for Christmas. Bakugou follows easily as you lead them into the huge entrance hallway. “Wait!” She says, her little voice bouncing off the marble columns and high ceilings. “Why do we get the special tour?” Bakugou is about to jump in when you speak

“Your daddy’s a special guy.” She nods sagely.

“I know.” She whispers conspiratorially. “He saves people.” You laugh, it coruscates across the empty space, the sound sweet and pure, stirring something in Bakugou’s chest that he’d considered long dead. It reminded him of sweaty palms in classrooms, of thumping music at a party he didn’t want to be at, of the sound of a chair scraping against the restaurant floor on a first date. It felt like that, but better. Warmer.

“Let’s keep going,” you point to the huge replica of a killer whale hanging from the ceiling, “Can you tell me what that is?”

“That’s SHAMUU!” She says, and you smile.

“That’s right!” You take them through the main room, stopping and explaining, Bakugou watches silently, when you talk you gesture wildly, as if you’re spelling the words out with your hands. You’re in the Manta ray tunnel, the lights lower than earlier, creating an odd blue ambiance.

“What do you know about manta rays Sana?” You ask and she thinks about it.

“Manta Ray’s are gentle giants,” She says, like a scientific authority. “They like to make friends with divers and snorkelers, they’re very curious.” You beam at her.

“That’s right!” One swims right above your head and a shadow passes over the three of you, Sana jumps and curls herself around your bare leg, Bakugou takes a step forward to remove her, to apologize, but you reach down and ruffle her hair. “It’s okay, gentle giants, remember,” she nods and you squat down to her level, “It’s okay to be afraid, but take a step closer for me, he just wants to get to know you.” Sana nods, chewing her lip, releasing you and moving towards the glass in the tunnel. She presses her hand to the glass, and the manta ray comes closer, examining her. She laughs nervously and you look up at Bakugou meaningfully. He swallows, remembering himself, getting down on his daughter’s level.

“What uh,” he asks, “What else do you know about Manta Rays?”

“They can swim up to 22 miles per hour,” She breathes, as the brown creature comes closer to her, inquisitive. “They have huge brains, and they probably talk to each other somehow, but we haven’t figured out how they communicate.” You stand back up, inching away from this intimate moment. She squeals loudly when the animal comes right up to glass, resting its belly on it, right above her hand. Bakugou reaches out, covering his daughter’s hand with his own, as the manta ray flutters it’s huge wings. “Wow,” She says quietly. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” Bakugou opens his mouth, looking for words.

“No.” He says eventually. Sana’s attention snaps to you, waiting quietly in the low light, a few steps ahead of them in the tunnel.

“You too,” Sana orders, “You touch too, please.” She juts her chin out and Bakugou swallows.

“Sana, she doesn’t have to-”

“It’s okay.” You say quickly. You press your hand on the glass next to his.

“No,” Sana whines, “Under daddy’s so that the sizes make sense.” You laugh lightly, Bakugou withdraws his hand,

“You don’t have to do what she says.” He growls, and you shake your head.

“That’s just not true.” You put your hand on top of hers, the Manta Ray centers itself on that point and stays there. Bakugou reaches out, and covers your hand with his own. Your skin is soft, nails unpainted and short, he imagined for touch tank related reasons. “Your hands are huge.” The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them, and Bakugou smirks. “I mean,” you flush, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugs. The Manta Ray loses interest then and so does Sana, ripping her hand away and tearing off down the hallway.

“It’s BELUGA TIME,” She yells, and you jog to keep up with her, Bakugou close behind. The whale room looks different at night, most of the light coming from the tanks, the huge white belugas more active, zipping around the tank. She takes off running, doing laps in front of the huge tank, dancing and twirling. “Sing the song!” She begs, without looking at you.

“Oh Ah,” You look over at Bakugou,

“She doesn’t have to, Sana,” Bakugou calls.

“But YOOOOOUUUU DO!!!” Sana calls, turning around, a familiar wicked smile on her face.

“She looks so much like you.” You murmur, turning to the pro hero, whol looks down at you, a hint of desperation on his face.

“What are the fuckin’ words?” He hisses. Your face burns.

“It’s um,” you start to sing, “Baby beluga in the deep blue sea,” She giggles happily, “You swim so wild, and you swim so free, heaven above and the sea below, and a little white whale on the go,” you turn to Bakugou, prompting him to join you on the chorus. “Baby, beluga,” you sing and to your shock, he joins you in a tone deaf rasp.

“Baby, beluga,” He sings, “Is the water warm, is your daddy home,” a lump forms in his throat as his daughters laughs spiral towards the ceiling, “With you, so happy,” You see his eyes get misty, and quickly move to distract Sana.

“Hey Sana,” You call, waving your hand in a wide arc, making a huge long bubble, “Does this look like a beluga to you?” She screams loudly, running back over to where you’re standing with Bakugou. He watches his daughter lean up to pop the bubble you made, and then she takes off down the hallway towards the penguins. You follow her, Bakugou matching your strides.

“You got a license for that shit?” He asks quietly and you laugh.

“Gonna report me?” He shakes his head.

“Thank you.” He stares off at Sana, jumping around. “I didn’t uh, plan on having kids.” You nod, listening. “I wish I could give her, more normal things, like this.”

“Are you kidding?” You turn to him, eyes wide and sad, “I would have killed to have my father take me to the aquarium at all.” You smooth your hair, modulating your tone. “You’re trying, I mean. That matters.”

“Huh.” He says, and you shrug then follow Sana to the penguins, pointing out the different species of them, all while wringing his favorite sound from his daughter, bright explosive laughter.

The rest of the tour is uneventful beyond Sana’s dramatic gasps, and the way she cowers behind her father at the hammerhead sharks. She’s tearing through the gift shop with a fervor when you turn to Bakugou again, speaking very quietly as she digs through a big bin of polished shells.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” He looks at you sharply, inspecting your face, your inquisitive eyes, perfect lips, the way your hair framed your face, surely he’d remember you if he’d met you before. “You actually,” you laugh nervously, “You saved my life.” He blinks at you. “It must have been your first or second year out of school but um, there was a villain robbing a bank, and I was inside.” You shrug, “I maybe, sixteen, and you came in, all confidence and power and the whole thing was over in a few minutes.” He searches his memory for that day, remembering the bank, and the tentacled villain, and, oh yes,

“You were hiding behind the couch.” He rasps, the scene vivid in his mind, it was one of the first times he’d been on the front of every paper, back then, it had felt like the ultimate victory.

“I was so afraid.” You say, “M-mr. Dynamight,” He scoffs.

“Bakugou.”

“Right, um,” Bakugou,” you look up at him, “You know when she’s memorizing those facts and spouting them, she’s not showing off for me,” he crosses his arms, looking away, “She wants you to be impressed with her.” There’s a silence. “Not to overstep.”

“‘S fine.” He grunts, remembering the stuffed animal, fumbling for his wallet, “How much for the stupid plushie whale?”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I’ll rephrase. Tell me how much the fuckin’ toy was.” He says, staring down at you. You jump a little at his coarse language, but Sana’s not in earshot.

“F-fifteen dollars.” You get out, immediately embarrassed by your stutter. He peels a twenty from his wallet. “And the post.”

“I emailed my manager, she’s taking care of it.” Bakugou responds. He eyes the sinking sun. “Is one of those cars out front yours?” You shake your head.

“I take the bus.”

“Today you don’t.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“That’s so kind of you.” You fidget a little. “I live pretty far though.” He shrugs.

“She sleeps in the car. You’d be doin’ me a favor.” You let out a long breath.

“Ah, alright.” Sana is dancing around the exit while the two of them wait for you to get your things.

“She’s nice daddy.” Sana says. “And she said I could come back and see the beluga’s anytime.” Bakugou nods. “And maybe, if she came around more, mommy wouldn’t worry about you being so lonely.” Her words hit him like a sucker punch.

“Mommy uh, Mommy worries about me?”

“Yeah,” Sana says, nodding, “I do too.” He swallows, plucking her off her feet.

“You never need to worry about me,” He rumbles, “Remember, daddy’s the strongest,” he tickles her and she giggles, kicking her little legs, “And the smartest,” she laughs harder as he lifts her up and blows a raspberry into her soft stomach, “And?” He waits for her to finish.

“The best hero ever!” She squeals loudly, reaching her little hands out for him, he nestles her against his broad chest. You come out, in a sweet little sundress that fits at your waist and then floats down around your thighs. He does some math at light speed, if you were sixteen when he’d ended that bank heist then you were, five years younger than him? So when he’d had his first kiss, you’d been in middle school, when he’d gotten married you’d been in high school, when he’d-”

“Ah, Mr. um,” you catch yourself at his scowl, “Bakugou, I’m ready, if you want to go.” He nods, leading you out to his car, a sleek black luxury model that flew just underneath the radar.

“What neighborhood are you in?”

“Uh, downtown, by the bridge?” He unlocks the car and it beeps softly, he waits until Sana is clipped into her seatbelt and the car door is closed before turning to you.

“That’s a shitty area.” You shrug.

“We’re not all pro heroes.” He walks around the car and for a moment you’re confused, but then you realize he’s opened your door for you. “Oh, um,” your face warms, “Thanks.”

“You look shocked.” He says dryly, as you swing into the seat. He moves around the car quickly, settling into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” You laugh lightly, “Guys my age don’t do things like that.” He nods, at the press of a button, the engine hums to life.

“Mind if I drop her off first?” Bakugou palms the steering wheel, expertly navigating out of the nearly empty parking lot, “My ex loses it if she’s late.”

“Of course, that’s fine.” You say, as smoothly as you’re able, palms slick as you think of the idea of being alone, in the car, with the handsomest man you’d ever seen. Even the way he drove was attractive, the subtle scent of whatever cologne he was wearing wafting through the small space, changing lanes decisively, the engine letting out a low roar when he accelerated. One hand rests on the console, inches from your thigh.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Sana inquires from the backseat, the wicked smile you recognized from early posters of Dynamight on her face again.

“Sana,” Bakugou cautions, looking over his shoulder before merging onto the highway. “We don’t ask people that.” You laugh.

“It’s alright, Sana, I don’t.”

“Did you EVER have a boyfriend?” She pushes, and Bakugou glares at her in the rearview mirror while she ignores him.

“Yeah,” Bakugou’s eyes move to your hands, doing a nervous little dance in your lap. “He wasn’t my prince charming,” You say, twisting in your seat to face the little girl, reaching for words she’ll understand.

“What was wrong with him?” Sana asks, fascinated.

“Sana,” Bakugou says again, “You don’t have to answer that.” He turns to you. “You’ve indulged her plenty.”

“That’s ok!” You coo, making a big distracting bubble. “Some people, you know, are not so nice,” You explain, as the bubble floats through the back of the car, and she watches it.

“Like the villains daddy fights!”

“Yes,” You agree, “Like that.”

“Did you know my daddy is a hero?” She asks, sitting up in her seat a little. “The best one ever.” Bakugou grins despite himself.

“I did know that!” You respond, and she yawns loudly.

“I am, SO tired.” She announces to the car, “Daddy I’m gonna go RIGHT to sleep.” He chuckles deeply.

“Yeah, I’m sure mommy will be thrilled to hear that.”

“Gonna sleep so fast there won’t be ANY time for vegetables,” She explains, winking at you.

“Ahh,” You nod, “I understand.”

“Vegetables are delicious,” Bakugou counters, “And Sana always finishes them when she’s with daddy.”

“Daddy, your food is better!” Sana complains, yawning again, “Daddy’s the best cook.” She closes her eyes, the hum of the car and the excitement of the day too much for her. There are a few minutes of silence, you turn back around and watch the city flash by.

“You in school?” He asks, and you nod.

“I’m doing my masters in Marine Biology, so I work at the aquarium a few days a week when I’m not studying.” Bakugou searches his mind for topics, for maybe the first time in his life he’s desperate to make conversation, to draw you out a little before he lets you go. He reaches down and turns the radio on low. To his delight you let out a soft coo,

“I love this song.” He nods, he’s never heard the soft strumming of the guitar, but your face warms like a candle.

“Bad breakup?” He asks, and then kicks himself, was there such thing as a good breakup? Fuck he was so-

“Yeah.” You pause. “He um, he had a drinking problem.” Sana’s snoring softly in the back. “And some other problems.” Bakugou shakes his head, a shadow moving over your face as he turns onto his ex wife’s street.

“Mommy had some problems too.” He says, eyes flicking to Sana in the backseat. “But I wouldn’t change it.” Your jaw sets.

“I don’t think about the past like that.” You mumble, “I mean, I like to analyze, or maybe over analyze, but I, I mean, I’m who I am, right, because of it. I don’t know any other version of myself.” He nods, but you continue. “I think, I’m so terrified of making a mistake and screwing up my whole life.”

“It’s harder than you think,” He rasps quietly, “To ruin your own life, most things, start as mistakes, but end up feeling like choices.” He parallel parks in front of the stately marble building he pays rent for but seldom steps foot in.

“Can you park here?” You wonder out loud, and Bakugou smirks.

“I park wherever the fuck I want.” He gets out, scooping Sana out of her seat and closing the door with his hip. You’re only alone for a few minutes but it’s enough time for you to completely lose your grip on reality, to wonder, what the fuck you were doing in Dynamight’s car, what you were doing telling his daughter about your shitty ex, why you’d offered to stay late just on instinct, why he’d even come? Your pulse races, he wasn’t flirting with you, not a nobody, not someone who looked like you, who had barely bothered to do their makeup, men like him, they dated models, and famous philanthropists. He was just being nice. He had to be.

In the elevator coming down from dropping his daughter off, Bakugou doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He tries shoving them in the pockets of his jeans, but that feels wrong, and crossing them feels strange, but he’s too keyed up to let them hang at his side. He sees you before you see him, you look so genuinely nervous, eyes huge and unfocused, he almost gives up right there. His feet however, still carry him to the front seat of his car.

“Downtown, you said?” He asks.

“Yep.” There’s a brief pause before you speak quickly. “I shouldn’t have, you know, talked about my ex, that was weird.”

“I asked.”

“I mean, yes you did, but I still feel like it was weird, I mean I’m some random Aquarium employee who you met a few hours ago, I shouldn’t be just, like, sharing-”

“I asked.” He says again, looking over at you. “Because I wanted to know.”

“Oh.” There’s another pause. “You’re different now, than you seemed, I guess, when you were younger.”

“I’m older now.” He says, and then kicks himself again, he shouldn’t be drawing attention to the age gap, and what the fuck kind of a response was that, I’m older now? What were you supposed to say? Instead of speaking, you turn the radio up. “I know this song,” he blurts out, and you laugh.

“Because it’s old,” and he swats at you on instinct, you giggle and avoid his halfhearted attempt, “It is!” You protest, leaning on the console. “Won’t you, take me by the hand, take me somewhere new, don’t know who you are, but I, I’m with you,” you sing along, and he shakes his head.

“At least it’s good Avril Lavigne.” He mutters. “Not whatever the shit girlfriend was.” You nod, looking out the window again, and he wracks his brain for something to draw you back to him.

“Do you uh, have any siblings?” Lame.

“Yeah,” You say, turning back to him. “A younger brother.”

“So you’re the oldest?”

“Yep,” You confirm, “The pseudo parent.” You scoot a little closer to him as he looks down to turn his signal on. “Do you want more kids?”

“I didn’t even want one.” Bakugou says honestly, “But now that I’ve got her I want a million of those little fuckers, she just,” He laughs, “She’s got me wrapped around her damn finger. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“That’s so lovely,” You sigh happily, “I think I want a bunch too, and a house somewhere quiet by the ocean, maybe.”

“With someone who opens car doors?” He rips his eyes from the road and allows himself one second of looking at your legs before focusing again.

“Well gentlemen are an endangered species.” You take your phone out, “Do you want to hear what’s waiting for me on this dating app?” He grins.

“Yeah, let’s hear what the extra’s think is gonna win you over.” You hold up one finger and read.

“Hey baby,” You say, “How do you like your eggs in the morning?” Bakugou snorts and catches a wicked glint in your eye, “Should I say, unfertilized.”

“He’s not worth the caloric energy you’d burn typing that response.” He says, making a wide left turn. “What makes a guy, a gentleman, to you?” He rasps, keeping his voice casual. “Ya lookin’ for someone who’ll bring ya flowers and write ya poetry?” You giggle.

“No,” you take a deep breath and let it out through your nose, “This is so lame, you can’t make fun of me.”

“I do not promise that.” He says. “Don’t say somethin’ stupid and I won’t mock ya for it.”

“Okay, okay,” You speak again, gesturing like you did earlier when you were giving the tour, “I’m the oldest sibling, I’m responsible, and smart, and I would like for once in my life, to be the person being taken care of rather than the other way around. I want,” you pause, thinking, “I want to be with someone who is always thinking like, what can I do to make her smile, to make her life better, because that’s how I am, and I just, never found someone who matches me there.”

“Huh.” He says.

“Go ahead.” You stick your chin out. “Mock me.”

“Can’t.” He says, frowning. “Too sincere.”

“I also hope he’s tall.” You quip, and Bakugou laughs harshly,

“Think one of those two things is gonna be easier to find than the other.” You flip through the dating app. “Those are shit, by the way.”

“I work too much to meet people any other way.” You sigh. “Sorry, this isn’t what you signed up for, when you offered to drive me home, I’d give myself 0 stars on uber for oversharing.”

“You edit a lot.” he says gruffly.

“Yeah, I’m um,” You touch the back of your neck, “Maybe the most nervous I’ve ever been.”

“Because of me?” He asks, looking over at you, measuring the warmth of your cheeks, your soft smile, the slight tremor of your hands. “Are you cold?”

“Um, yes, and no.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m nervous!” He pulls up to a red light, bathing both of your faces in crimson.

“Why?” He asks, “Because I’m a hero?” You swallow, close your eyes and throw caution to the wind.

“Because I was gonna maybe ask you inside for a drink, but um, if you’re gonna say no, then I didn’t ask.” His heart thrums in his chest.

“If I’m gonna say no you didn’t ask?” He repeats, just to watch you crumple with embarrassment, adorable. “Relax, princess, I’m comin’ up.” You lift your head.

“You’re terrible.” You say with a warm smile, and he matches it. “I mean it.” He reaches over and pats your knee, unsure what possessed him to touch you, but unable to stop.

“You ain’t seen nothin’.”

“I’m a little messy, heads up,” you confess, and he shrugs. “And I only have whiskey.”

“Tryna get me drunk?” He asks, slowing down as he enters your neighborhood.

“No!” You protest, “No I promise I’m not-”

“Relax,” He says again, “I’m just pushin’ your buttons.” You cross your arms and huff. “You really just jumped in front of Sana today,” He says after a moment.

“I didn’t think about it.” You say honestly. “Now I feel silly, if you did want to take her, I’m fairly certain there’s nothing I could do about it. You look at his defined biceps and thick forearms. “Oh, here.” You point and he frowns. This isn’t just a crappy neighborhood, it’s a dangerous one. Your building is in disrepair, bricks crumbling down into the ally , the air condition unit drips on the dirty sidewalk. He parks quickly and gets out of the car, and gets do your door so quickly that he’s able to shut it on you when you try to open it yourself.

“What did I tell you?” He grins, “I open the doors around here.” Your stomach does a backflip.

“R-right.” He offers you a hand, lifting you out of his car, and not releasing it as you move towards the building. He watches you fumble with your keys, and where you would have struggled to open the sticking door in the humidity he’s able to wrench it open with one firm yank. “Thank you.” You murmur, and you lead him up the dark stairway, the building smells like cigarettes, your footsteps are muffled on the filthy brown carpet. There’s a faint buzzing from fluorescent light in the hallway. and it flickers a little. You wince when you finally get to the door, “I know the building’s depressing but,” You open your door, “I think my place is nice.” He ducks his head to get through the door, the ceilings here are low, clearly in violation of some building code. Your apartment is messy, strewn with books and papers, a couple plants on the window sill, he recognizes fresh basil, the rest must be herbs. The light is soft and yellow when you flick it on, and the colors are warm and inviting. You slip your bag off your shoulder and it’s hard to focus on anything else when you bend down in front of him, he heard the clang of glass and you pop back up with a bottle of whiskey.

“That’s shit.” He says, shaking his head, but you just giggle.

“More for me.”

“Get me a glass.” He orders, and to his surprise you nod, padding into your kitchen and taking two mugs from the cabinet. “Don’t you have glasses?” He asks and you shrug.

“Nope.” You pour each of you a hearty serving then gesture to the couch, handing him his mug. “Sorry to make the number two hero rough it.”

“I can handle it.” He takes a sip of the whiskey, and manages not to wince. “I’m more worried about you, princess,” He says lowly, watching you sip the liquor like it’s water.

“I’ll be fine.” You mumble. “Sorry, really, that my place isn’t so nice.”

“I like it.” He says, scooting closer to you on the couch, and willing his hands not to sweat as he reaches for you. He slips an arm around your shoulders, you’re sitting with your knees tucked into your chest.

“Do you um,” he’s so close to you, you can count every freckle on the bridge of his nose, “Want to watch tv?” He snorts, setting his mug on the table.

“Fuck no,” He breathes, before reaching out and cupping your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Can I, uh,” he feels so stupid, in his youth, he’d have just pinned you down, he’d have one hand around your neck by now, “Can I kiss you?” You nod, lifting your head to his.

“Please,” you breathe, and presses his lips to yours and then sucks gently on your lower lip, his hold on your face gentle but firm, guiding you. With his free hand, he takes your drink and sets it on the coffee table, then his hands drop to your waist, lifting you with a soft grunt, so that you’re facing him in his lap, straddling him on your knees. His hands drop to squeeze your ass, your thighs, letting out a soft groan at the give in them, before bringing one of them to the small of your back to move your hips against his.

Your head is spinning, mind swimming, as your face gets warmer and your need grows, you gasp softly into his mouth, and he slips his hands under your shirt, palming your breasts, first through your bra, but quickly losing patience with it, taking it in two hands and tearing the fabric like paper.

“Bakugou,” You gasp, more surprised than annoyed, but he just grins.

“I’ll get ya somethin’ nicer.” He flicks his calloused hands over your nipples and watches your delicious reaction, your pupils dilating, your soft lips parting, he could watch this for hours. You suck on your pouty lower lip for a second when he pinches them softly, it’s like you’ve never been touched before, you’re so sensitive. “Fuck,” He growls, when you mewl for him, “Get this shit off.” You nod emphatically, flopping on your back to take your t-shirt off while he pulls your leggings off and yanks your plain cotton panties to your ankles. You go to sit up but he snaps, “Don’t move,” and tugs his own shirt off, revealing layers of scarred, tanned muscle. You must show your desire on your face because he smirks.

“Like what ya see?” You look away, embarrassed he caught you staring, but he climbs on top of you, catching your chin in one hand, “You look so cute when you’re embarrassed,” he says, “Do’ya do this often,” and you squirm more underneath him, “Pick up dads at the playground?”

“No-ohhh,” you sigh through your denial when he buries his face in your neck, his rough tongue on your soft skin, kissing and biting, bringing pleasure with just the edge of pain, “I didn’t think you’d,” you cut yourself off with another moan when he slots a thigh between yours, and presses it firmly against your sex, “Fuck, I didn’t, think you’d-”

“You didn’t think,” he laughs, trailing his lower lip across your skin, taking your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard enough to make you breathe in sharply and arch your back, “That I started thinkin’ about how much you’d cream on my cock while you were squirmin’ in my front seat?” You whimper and grind your hips against his thigh, “Needy little slut,” he growls, sticking two fingers in your mouth, “Suck.”

You hollow out your cheeks and he watches in awe as he pushes them further between your perfect lips, flicking your tongue over his digits, eyes wide and opium blown.

“That’s it,” He grunts, “Get ‘em nice and wet for me.” He pushes a little farther, and finally gets what he wants, triggering your gag reflex, making your hips buck underneath him, your throat convulse, and tears well in your eyes. “Good girl,” He says, in the softest tone of voice he’s capable of taking his soaked fingers and trailing them up your slit, he notices you soften a little at the words. “You like that?” You blink at him and he slaps your thigh, “I asked you a fuckin’ question, you like it when I tell you you’re my good girl?” Your mouth drops open as he choses that moment to part your folds, stealing the air from your lungs by way of dipping his middle finger into your burning core.

“Fuck,” you chirp, “Yes, yes I like it.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you a couple times, and you roll your hips against his hand, he curls them inside of you and you moan loudly, “Daddy please,” you squeal as he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit.

“Daddy,” he repeats in a low growl, “You filthy fuckin’ thing,” He leans down and speaks directly in your ear, wedging himself between the body and the couch, “Spent the day with me and my daughter and now that I’m knuckle deep in your cunt you wanna call me daddy?” Tears burn in your eyes, you whimper, he’s pressing against that bundle of nerves with every thrust now, your thighs are trembling, “Go on then, cum all over daddy’s fingers, you dirty,” his teeth graze your earlobe, “fuckin’ slut.” Your orgasm rips through you, and you cry the loveliest half choked sobs, curling into his body. He rubs your back, trailing his fingertips over your skin, making you shiver.

You look up at him, with soft, wet eyes, and take his hand, bringing it to your lips. He watches, transfixed as you gently lick his fingers clean.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he breathes, when he can speak again, “You wanna be daddy’s good girl?” You squirm underneath him and he chuckles. “Nah, you’re not gettin’ away that easy.” He sits up, moving you with him, sitting you gently on his lap. He unzips his dark jeans, and hooks his thumbs in his boxers, pulling them down, letting them fall to his ankles. His cock springs loose, thick and heavy, slapping against his abs.

“Oh, my god,” The words fall from your lips before you can stop them.

“Think ya can take it?” He asks, sitting up and pressing his forehead to yours. “Think you can handle daddy’s fat fuckin’ cock?” You roll your eyes and he chuckles dangerously, catching your face roughly in a calloused hand. “Now was that a good idea?”

“N-no, probably,” you get out, his hand squishing your cheeks, muffling your words.

“Good guess,” he snarls, releasing you and rubbing the head of his cock against your softness, pressing it directly against your clit which is still throbbing from your orgasm. You feel just the head of it at first, and you hiss as eases into you, pressing down on your hips as you sink down on his length.

“Fuck,” you choke out, “You’re s’big,” he guides your hips, lifting you an inch up and and slamming you back down so hard you cry out, burying your face in his neck.

“Too much?” He asks lowly,

“Don’t stop,” You beg, breathless, “Please,”

“Squeezin’ me so tight,” He groans, “Relax a little,” he moves his hips, bouncing you experimentally, delighting in the soft broken gasps spilling from your lips into his neck. “That’s it,” He growls, “Atta girl,” He picks up the pace a little, grabbing a fistful of your ass and then slapping it hard, “Atta fuckin’ girl.” You lean back a little, lifting your head and kissing him as he fucks you hard, hips slapping against yours with every thrust. Your hands tangle in his straw hair, and he lets out a low rumble when you pull, “Harder,” he orders, bouncing you faster, until your breath is coming in short little gasps between moans, completely undone in front of him.

“D-daddy,” You warble, giving in, collapsing against him, “Need to cum again.”

“Now that she needs to cum I’m daddy again, huh?” He lets out a sharp breath, “Fuck, though you’ve got a tight little pussy,” he moves you, pressing his forehead to yours again, so that he can look directly into your eyes. “Gonna let daddy take care of you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” You chant, nodding emphatically, “Please,”

“Gonna be daddy’s sweet little cocksleeve?”

“Mhm, yes, please, daddy,” You mewl.

“Fuck,” He snarls, thrusts getting sporadic as he nears his own high, leaning forward and biting down on your neck, “Cum for me.” He snaps, and you clench down on him, cunt fluttering around him as you cry, and as he rakes his nails down your back, letting you milk him dry. For a few minutes there’s only breathing, he draws patterns on your soft skin. “Good girl.” He whispers, breaking the silence. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him. You stay like that, resting, breathing until Bakugou feels you shiver, and moves a little, waking you up.

“Oi,” He murmurs, “Time to put some clothes on, huh princess?” You swallow. Of course, you think, he got what he came for. You nod, climbing off of him, legs shaking as you pull your panties back on, and step into your leggings. You pick up your ruined bra. “Toss it,” he orders, “I’ll get you somethin’ nicer.”

“You don’t have to.” You say, and he bristles at the edge in your voice.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” You say, disappearing down the hallway to find clothes.

“Uh, uh,” He follows you, pulling up his pants and boxers, leaning against your door frame as you dig in your dresser. “What’s goin’ on?”

“You just um,” You speak without turning around, “You can go if that’s what you want.” He laughs harshly.

“Is that what this is about?” You’re wiggling into another bra and he frowns.

“I don’t like that one either.”

“Could it be you just like my tits out?” He steps into your bedroom, wrapping his thick scarred arms around you.

“Are ya poutin’ because you thought I don’t wanna stay the night?” He says in a low rasp.

“I would understand-”

“Oh, I’m not sleeping here.” He says meanly, and your shoulders droop so immediately that he can’t tease you for another second, “Because we’re going back to my place, you fuckin’ moron.” He flicks your forehead then shudders, “I don’t wanna find out what your cheap ass mattress is gonna do to my old man back.” He picks you up, holding you by the thighs while you avoid eye contact, “And in the mornin’ I’ll make you the best damn breakfast you’ve ever eaten, so smile for me or somethin’ dumbass?”

“I don’t eat breakfast.” You mumble and he shakes his head.

“You do now princess.” He tosses you roughly onto your bed. “So get your shit, because we’re leaving.”

“You seriously don’t have to pretend you want-”

“If you say that again,” Bakugou scowls, annoyed, “I swear to god I’ll take you right over my fuckin’ knee.” You blanch. “Or would ya like that too much? Gonna soak right through your panties for me? Tch.”

“Well I mean technically speaking, my panties are wet, because,” Something hits him.

“You’re on birth control, yeah?” You snort.

“Yeah, Bakugou.”

“No need to look so relieved.” He puts you down. “Betcha’d like it if I locked you down, huh?” You swat at him halfheartedly searching your closet for some pajamas resembling lingerie. “Also uh,” He pauses, “‘S Katsuki.” You shove some clothes into a beg, and he waits for you while you grab your things from the bathroom. He leads you down the stairs, out of your crappy apartment, into his sports car. He speeds through the city, taking tight turns and running yellow lights, one hand on the wheel and one hand on your thigh.

He pulls up in front of his building, and you reach for the car door but think better of it.

“Good girl,” He coos condescendingly, “She’s learning.” He takes his time walking around the car, opening the door for you and helping you to your feet before tossing the keys to his building’s valet, draping an arm around your neck. Your sneakers look out of place on the shining marble floors, and when you see your reflection in the closing elevator doors it’s distorted. He runs his wallet over a sensor, and it beeps, flying you up to the penthouse floor. You step into his apartment, and gasp at the view of the city from his floor to ceiling windows, but you only have a second to marvel in the darkness because he’s snatching you up, and carrying you down the hall to his bedroom, with soft grey sheets and the blinds closed.

“You can drool at the view in the mornin’.” He growls and you reach for your bag.

“I brought stuff to um, sleep in.” You mumble and he relents, stepping out of his jeans, and putting on a clean pair of boxers before flopping on his bed, watching you strip, body glowing in the low light. You slip on a pink satin tank top and high waisted shorts, and turn to him, unconsciously asking for his approval.

“C’mere,” he says, lifting his arm, and you dive under the covers, shivering. “He tucks your chin under his head. “Meant it by the way earlier, no take backs.” Your eyelids are drooping and you’re so warm and comfortable that you almost don’t question it. He hooks a leg around yours trapping your thigh between his.

“What?”

“Said you’d let me take care of you.” He mutters.

“Oh.” You tighten your grip on his arm. “You were serious, about that?” You can practically feel his eyeroll as he tightens his grip on you.

And now, in the huge ocean, when you thought nothing would surprise you anymore, Eywa seemed to turn every assumption you had upside down. Jake had taken you with him and his family to the place where the Metkayina Clan lived, leaving the Omaticaya behind, leaving the shelter that the forest offered you, to now be surrounded by the ocean; salt water and sandy land.

They had been kind enough to accept you into their home and to show you their ways, noting the great difference from your own, but, apparently the younger members of the clan were not as friendly to strangers as the older ones.

Ao'nung had been rather harsh with you, especially Kiri, whom they had addressed as a freak, as they had nicknamed her, and from there, the problem grew larger, for you and Lo'ak had taken up against them in her defense.

“Look at her.” Ao'nung called out, following Kiri like prey, looking at her with big, disgusted eyes. “Is she a freak or something?”

“Don't call her that.” You stated in a not at all friendly tone, scowl and defiant eyes looking up at the chief's son, pointing at him with your index finger and thus causing him to move backwards. “You have no right to call her that, did you hear me? The Chief's son or not, I'll kick your ass.”

With a tilt of your head, you stated the threat, making him snort ungraciously, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“For such a pretty little girl, you sure have a big mouth.” His big eyes narrowed as he spoke, demonstrating a smug attitude as he heard a couple of snickers from his little friends at his words. “You are one of us, little flower. Why you waste your time hanging out with these aliens?”

“Hey!” Lo'ak exclaimed, appearing at your side, fists clenched and face angry. “Don't call her that, get away from her!”

“Please, leave us alone.” Kiri grumbled behind your back, hearing how now, you were the target of annoyance from the little group.

Your mouth hung open wide, totally offended now, feeling the fury shake your body from head to toe, your tail wagging angrily as you lunged at him at the same time you heard an 'oh uh' from Lo'ak.

But your movement was halted as you watched as a body larger than yours stepped between you and the bully, leaving you in view of nothing but a broad back you knew all too well and blocking Ao'nung's smug, sneering face from your view.

“That's enough.” Neteyam said in a stern tone, deep voice and tense body, always as diplomatic and calm as ever, braids moving under the command of the wind and his head, which rose slightly, giving him a more stern and much more menacing stance. “As long as we are here you will treat my family with respect and call no one by other than their names.”

His head moved so that he could look at the faces of the little group that had formed, friends of Ao'nung, as silly as he was, apparently, but who, in Neteyam's presence, seemed to have been brought back to reality and put back in their places. They were not so foolish after all, they knew that against him they would have no choice but to flee. Cowards.

“(Y/N) is just fine for you, got it?”

“Whatever.” Ao'nung replied, rolling his eyes and starting to walk, bumping his shoulder against Neteyam's as he walked past him, his eyes met yours for a couple of seconds and he offered you a smirk, making you grunt and by the time you could take a step towards him, a hand found itself on your forearm, stopping any act of violence you had planned to do.

“Cowards.” Kiri spat, rolling her eyes.

When you looked back, Neteyam was looking at you with eyes, dark, but now filled with concern, his fingers barely caressing your skin before he pulled away from your arm.

“Are you okay, syulang?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily. “I'd be better if I'd beaten that skxawng—”

“Hey.” He interrupted you, noticing how your ears were still bent and your tail twitching behind your back and he laid both of his hands on your shoulders now, in an attempt to reassure you, giving you delicate petting strokes. “It's okay, it's all over now.” His gaze traveled to his siblings behind you, moving his head and face transforming to one of authority, chin up. His voice came through loud and clear, almost scolding. “Home, now. You've had a lot for today.”

Lo'ak lifted his hands, looking incredulous. “But they were bugging-”

Neteyam was quick to interrupt him. “Home. We will talk to father later.”

The younger boy let out a snarl and without further ado, began walking back to where his family was staying, followed closely by Kiri, who kept a glum face, arms crossed over her chest.

And now, all of Neteyam's attention landed on you, as it naturally did, as his body always seemed to do instinctively, even though he didn't even intend to, he always focused on you, as if you were the center of the universe, the sun of his world, the core of his heart, the magnet of his mind and the horizon of his eyes. He saw you. He had always seen you. And practically everyone in his family knew, perhaps everyone on the whole planet, except for you, of course.

Neteyam had expressly refused any offer or even, even idea from his parents to find him a Tsahik as his position as the future leader of the clan, it was his duty and it behoved him to follow to the letter the duty that rested on his shoulders as the future chief, but now, all that had been left behind with his leaving. Now all he cared about having was you. All that mattered was you.

With a beautiful sunset behind him, he began to speak to you once again, hands gently running over your shoulders and arms, becoming more attentive, affectionate, but still concerned. His brow furrowed slightly and you knew immediately that a scolding was coming now. “What were you thinking, hm? Fighting them all?”

He was always like that with you, especially when you were alone together. Neteyam never felt he was enough for his father, and he too never seemed to be satisfied of him, let alone see all that his son did for his family, for his siblings and for him, but with you, with you everything was different, he could be different, he could be himself and he knew that was enough for you, you made him feel enough, you made him feel special.

“If that's what I had to do for protecting Kiri, Lo'ak and their family's honor, of course.” You answered immediately and with your words, sounding so sure and affirmative, Neteyam felt his heart be flooded with a most familiar warmth, an emotion quite well-known to him whenever you were near him and said things such as those, always putting others before yourself, putting the welfare of his family before yourself.

A smile tugged at Neteyam's lips, admiring you with bright, big eyes, his hands trailing down your shoulders, sliding down your arms to your hands, taking them between his own tenderly, fingers toying with yours absentmindedly as he watched the clear size difference.

“He called you little flower.” Neteyam stated after a silence of a couple of seconds, twisting his head. His jaw was clenched and ears barely tilted back. “I call you that.”

You bit your lower lip, holding back the smile that threatened to curve your lips at his clear display of jealousy. He was upset about it and you had to reassure him. Your fingers caressed his wrist, tracing imaginary lines down his forearm. “I like it better when you do it.”

“I sure hope so.” He smiled again and tugged on your hand, inviting you to walk with him, both of your hands tangled between his arm, and he didn't waste a second in drawing you to him. “I want to show you something.”

. . .

Neteyam had found the spot walking along the local beach, it was a bit far from the place where his family was staying and it was far from the town in general, but that made it a perfect location. It was a small bay, surrounded by coastal vegetation, a couple of palm trees and soft silky sand, but what was really amazing, was the glows of bioluminescence under the clear ocean water, algae of all colors, small animals swimming, with the sunset light bathing exquisitely over the turquoise sea.

It was beautiful, of course. But your reaction at the sight of it was even better; mouth half-open, eyes huge and amazed, face in wonder.

“'Yam… it's beautiful.” You murmured in a soft, barely audible tone of voice, but he was right next to you, as close to you as possible, so he could hear you perfectly. His fingers were intertwined with yours and he pulled you with him across the sand to the perfect place to sit.

“Yes it is. I found it as I was passing by... I immediately thought of you.” His gaze lowered with a hint of embarrassment flashing across his pretty face. “I know how much you love nature, all the things our great mother has given us, so, I thought, you would like it.” He stated and then shrugged, attitude becoming quite braggy now. “I've seen more beautiful things, though.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing your shoulder against his in amusement as you wrapped your arms around your knees, admiring the scenery in front of you. “Don't lie now.”

“I'm serious.” He laughed, looking up at you, analyzing every expression on your pretty face. “I'm no liar, you know that.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning your head so you could look at him now. “Really, huh? So what have you seen? What possibly have you seen prettier than this?”

Neteyam smiled thinly, stirring his arm lightly, his hand passed down your back, resting on the sand, fingers fiddling with it. “Something prettier than this?”

“Hm.” You hummed, looking at him curiously.

His ears perked up, gaze dropping to his lap, steeling himself inside, trying his hardest to calm the nerves that were practically eating him alive. And then, he moved his eyes up your body, until he met yours. “I'm looking at it right now.”

Your breath hitched and your mouth parted, feeling your body freeze. Your arms fell to either side of your body, adjusting your position.

“Nete…” You whispered in a shaky voice.

“Yes, sluyang?” He tilted his head softly. “I'm being honest.” He swallowed saliva, his hand trailing up your arm, caressing your shoulder and tracing your jaw, down to rest on your cheek, fingers tracing every inch of skin he could, arranging your hair and tucking it behind your ear. “I've always seen you as the most beautiful thing…” His lips trembled, faltering for a few moments. “I see you, (Y/N).”

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I see you too, Neteyam.”

He closed his eyes too, caressing your face with his. “When that idiot called you flower and treated you that way… like you were nothing.” His hands cradled your face now, and you rose up to face him, completely silent, breathing agitatedly. He was breathing in an agitated way too, looking frustrated, disturbed. “I was furious. They should respect you. Every one of them should know that you are mine and they should treat you as such, as my equal, as my mate.”

You opened your eyes to find his eyes already on you, your fingers stroking his arms subconsciously. Your lips brushed his as you opened your mouth to speak in an agitated voice. “I want to be yours, Neteyam.”

“I can't pretend anymore.” He declared between shaky breaths, gaze traveling between your eyes and mouth as he shook his head. “I don't care what anyone else says, I don't want anyone else. I have already chosen. I just want you, (Y/N)... I was made for you.”

“Then just take me.” You murmured against his lips before joining them with yours in a needy, agitated kiss that felt as if everything at last, made sense, as if life had been created just for this moment, as if you had been brought to life just this moment, for each other.

It felt as if all the constellations had aligned for you, as if you had all the stars just for you, and that was given just once, you knew. Everything made you feel as if Ewya had created you for each other. You were made for each other and perhaps the Great Mother had aligned the whole universe for it, for you.

“I am yours.” He promised. “I always have been.”

Your legs tangled between his as you landed on his lap, being drawn in by his arms chaining themselves around your body, massaging your waist, tattooing his touch on your skin.

“You think they’ve noticed how long we’ve been gone?” He asked, playing with your hair as your foreheads were yet to separate from one another.

You sighed, still smiling as you took his cheek into your hands, “Is this your way of telling me we have to go?”

He mistook your sigh for disappointment, placing his hand on top of yours affectionately and leaning back to look at you, “I don’t mean that I don’t want to be here with you. I just meant—“

“My Neteyam.” You interrupted, prompting his mouth to part in surprise, his heart melting at the way you said his name.

His reaction made you giggle, and you took hold of his other cheek, “You don’t need to explain anything. I’m just teasing you.”

“Why do you love to tease me at times like this? Seriously.” He whined, helping you get up as he stood.

“Well, it’ll be a lifetime of teasing for you.” You smirked, before turning around to dive back into the water, leaving him taken aback, his feet still planted on the cave ground.

After you and him finally bonded, Neteyam knew exactly how you felt about him, but he was so amazed at how you could still make him speechless so easily.

You swam out of the cave, entering back into endless ocean. The world suddenly looked more beautiful and felt more alive. You admired what was in front of you, amazingly awed by things you never really noticed before. The colossal anemones and various different plants were waving, as if they were just meeting you, kindly making their cordial introduction with the motion of their seemingly lively arms. The blue water all around was enveloping you into an embrace as the sun peeked through its surface, reflecting shimmers onto everything it touched. The wildlife, the fish, the many wonders with odd-shaped fins, each of them, somehow spoke to you as they swam by, following the example of their plant and anemone counterparts, jovially greeting you with every sway. Turning, you expected to find Neteyam beside you, taking in the beauty as well, but he was not. Instantly, you swam back up past the entrance of your cave.

Taking a breath before propping yourself up on the edge of it, you called out to him, “What are you standing around for? Come on!” Before he could even process what you said, you pulled him in, his body plunging into the water and sending large ripples to its surfaces, ones that quickly dissipated as you swam further and further down.

Neteyam followed after you, and once at the entrance, he called his ilu over, who promptly swam toward the two of you. You motioned for him to come quickly, swimming toward his ilu and petting her affectionately as you waited for Neteyam. He nodded, beginning to follow, but his eye caught the luminescence of two blue shells resting on one of the tall, bulky rocks beside the cave’s entrance. He picked them up, feeling their ridges against his fingers, the paw-like shape intriguing him, but more importantly, the meaning of the shells reminding him of you. Wanting to give them to you as presents, he quickly hid them in the inner pocket of his hip cloth before finally swimming to you.

Neteyam finally took your hand, leading you as you sat behind him, and wrapping your arms around his torso, he looked over his shoulder, making sure that you were ready to go. You nodded, and you caught his expression change as he focused, connecting with his ilu before she started to swim back toward the village.

When you reached the shore, you walked in front of Neteyam, stealing glances over your shoulder as he looked at you playfully. He pulled at your tail mischievously and you smacked his hand, too happy to really be annoyed at him.

“So…” You asked, turning around to face Neteyam, his eyes raised expectantly, nodding as he waited for what you had to say.

“How do you want to tell everyone? We should be having dinner soon, let’s do it then.” Your expression was calm, but Neteyam’s eyes glinted slightly with panic and uncertainty.

“Must we tell everyone right away?” He asked, trying to conceal the veil of nervousness coating his voice.

“Well, yes.” You began, laughing at the absurdity of the question, but Neteyam’s expression remained unchanged, and at the sight, your laugh faded and your smile fell, “You don’t want to.”

Neteyam looked at you with such shame in his eyes, “It’s not that I don’t want to. Please do not mistake it for that. I just…I’m afraid.” His tone revealing how vulnerable he felt.

“What are you so afraid of?” You were concerned and confused, taking his hand and ribbing circles on his palms reassuringly.

“It’s alright if my parents are disappointed in me, but I don’t want them to be disappointed in you. I just— I can’t.”

Your heart broke, feeling tears threaten to fall as you looked at him. When you bonded, you felt beyond the love you had for him. You knew his pain and his struggles. Seeing him in front of you so vulnerable, you wanted be strong. For him.

“You are a good son. The best any father could ever hope for” You smiled confidently before continuing on, “We can wait. for as long as you feel you need to. But, Neteyam, please don’t wait too long. I really don’t want to sneak around stealing kisses forever.”

You kissed him on the cheek before wrapping your arms around his neck. Neteyam, comforted by you, wrapped his arms around you too, “I promise.”

—

Returning to the village, the sun had gone down a fair amount and you were walking back to the hut for dinner. The walkways were bustling as everyone was busy going back to their huts to eat and cook. You had barely noticed the Sully children, until Tuk spotted you, Lo’ak and Kiri following behind her.

“Y/n! You’re back!” An innocent voice called from the distance, and instantly recognizing it, you turned your head.

“Tuk!” You enthused, waving as she approached.

You dropped your knees to hug her, Neteyam patting the top of her head lightly, which she protested to.

“About time you came back.” Lo’ak complained, but, he squinted his eyes at you quizzically, “Where did you guys go anyway? You were gone for kind of a long time.” He was fishing for a particular answer, glancing over at Kiri, who had her arms crossed, unamused by her little brother.

“Nothing special. Just around the reef.” You shrugged nonchalantly, turning your attention back to Tuk, who of course, kept asking you questions about practically everything.

Neteyam furrowed his eyebrows at you, reluctantly playing along, “Yeah,” Neteyam glanced at everyone before his eyes fell on you, the blasé in your voice challenging his pride, “It was nothing special.”

Kiri and Lo’ak looked at each other, Lo’ak giving his sister a knowing look as she merely shrugged at him.

Thinking that changing the subject would help ease him, Neteyam cleared his throat, his voice trying to submit authority, “What have you been doing while we’ve been gone? Hopefully not getting into trouble.”

“Relax, okay? Believe it or not, I was trouble free.” He replied as innocently as he could manage.

But Neteyam didn’t believe him, raising his eyebrows at his dubious little brother.

“Nooo,” Tuk exclaimed, “Lo’ak went out to find Payakan.” Neteyam glared at his brother, but you were suddenly unaware of everything going on around you.

“Who’s Payakan?” You asked.

“Haha. Very funny y/n.” Lo’ak’s face deadpan as he looked at you, but you didn’t have an amused expression, confusion entrapped in the lines of your forehead.

A moment of realization took over as Lo’ak put a hand to his head, “Right, you were passed out when Tsireya was telling the story.”

Neteyam turned to you, still eyeing his brother with daggers, “The tulkun that saved you. He is Payakan. Outcast from the rest of the tulkun.”

“What?” You exclaimed in horrified disbelief, “But, how could he be outcast? He saved us.”

Lo’ak’s eyes brightened, “Thank you y/n. That’s what I’ve been saying, but no one wants to listen.”

“Have you told Jake yet?” Lifting an eyebrow at him.

Faking a smile, he turned to you, “Of course I did! And we all sang and held hands about it.” Lo’ak said sarcastically.

You merely chuckled at him, but Neteyam huffed in annoyance.

“Whether or not he saved you, he is still outcast according to their ways. Do not go back out there and look for him again. It is the rules, Lo’ak.” Pushing a finger into Lo’ak’s chest as he maintained a steely glare against Lo’ak’s irked face.

“Listen to your brother, Lo’ak. Going back to see him is dangerous.” You said, matching the sternness of Neteyam, a sternness that Lo’ak didn’t expect from you.

He looked at you with disbelief but it quickly faded once you winked at him, only feigning your disciplinary attitude. In truth, you wanted to see Payakan too, to thank him for saving you and also to reassure him. He was alone, and that must have been hard on him.

Lo’ak instantly caught on, turning his face away to smile slightly, before walking off, only seemingly angry.

“Lo’ak wait!” You called out, running off to follow him, waving to all of them before catching up to him.

Slinging your arm over his shoulder you were beaming, “How was it really? With Payakan.”

Lo’ak’s grin was genuine, more genuine than it had been in a long time, “Fun. More fun than I’ve had in all the time we’ve been here.”

“That’s great Lo’ak. Really great. Next time you go to him, take me with you.”

He squinted at you, “Are you sure? Neteyam is gonna be so mad at you.”

“Well, let him be. Payakan saved us. I want to see him too.”

His eyes lit up, but it turned to bewilderment, “I’ve seriously always wondered,” He put an arm around your shoulder, “How are you so cool and into my brother at the same time? I really don’t get it.”

You laughed a little too loud at Lo’ak’s comment, “I have no idea what you ‘re talking about. I’ve known Neteyam my whole life.”

This time, he laughed, “And I’ve known you for my whole life. You’re a shit liar y/n. You both are.”

He started batting his eyelashes, mocking your voice as he pretended to be you, “Nothing special, just around the reef.”

You hit him lightly on the chest, but his face remained serious, “Did you not notice my brother’s face? He looked like you just shot him, he was so hurt.”

You looked surprised at first, but shook your head, “Can we just get back on track to what we were originally talking about? Payakan? Let’s go tomorrow, after breakfast.”

“Ah, so you don’t care about your man’s feelings at all? Ouch.” His manner of tone was entirely obnoxious.

“Seriously?” You laughed, tightening your arm around his neck.

Gasping for air, he pulled at your arm, but you only tightened your grip even more. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Yes, tomorrow after breakfast.” His voice breathy as he took in as much air as he could.

You were about to let go too, but you suddenly remembered something else, “And you better not tell anyone about Neteyam and I or you’re dead.”

“Agh fine fine. Speaking of him….Neteyam! Neteyam!” Hearing his name, even in such a strained state, got his attention, and he ran over with an amused look.

“Neteyam, can you tell your mate here to stop choking me.” He managed to let out, making his brother’s eyes widen.

Neteyam turned to you, his face almost disappointed but you defended yourself, “I didn’t tell him, okay. He figured it out.”

Finally letting go of him, he took a breath in, huffing as he gave you a dirty look, “I take back what I said. You’re a bitch.”

You put a hand on Neteyam’s chest before he could scold his brother, laughing off the insult.

“Aw, Lo’ak that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. You can be so sweet sometimes when you’re not being annoying.” You touched your hands to your heart in fake sentiment.

“Thanks. I try my best.” His sarcasm cutting through his apparent sincerity, his expression dulling.

You broke into a fit of laughter, but Lo’ak just stood there, eyes narrowed at you.

“Come on, let’s just go before we’re late for dinner.” Clearly feeling defeated by how you bested him— just a little too easily for his pride.

—

Walking into the hut, everyone was already sitting down, the corner of Neytiri’s eyes crinkling as she looked at the both of you. “Come, sit. The food is ready.”

You both nodded your head in thanks, smiling at each of the Sully kids, your eyes falling on Neteyam last, twinkling as you let yourself hold his gaze for only a moment before sitting down next to him while Lo’ak sat on the other side of you.

“We are glad to see that you are alive and well, y/n. But, I hope that you waited to get into the water. The saltwater could delay the healing.“ Her voice was concerned, although her entire demeanor conveyed how relieved she felt.

You smiled widely at Neytiri, quickly glancing at your back where you earned your scar. “Thank you, Neytiri. There’s really no need to worry. The scar looks deep, but it does not hurt. I actually raced Aonung today on our ilus.”

Leaning backward, Lo’ak glanced at Neteyam, who was gritting his teeth at the mention of the name, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as he tried to keep in how affected he was.

“Really?” Jake asked, trying to keep his authoritarian tone but his curiosity got the best of him, “Did you win?”

The corners of your mouth quirked up, beaming, “It was like racing a baby. Too easy.”

“Hey, it’s not right to make fun of the chief’s son,” Jake scolded, making you nod obediently, but he couldn’t contain his proud excitement, “It’s not his fault he went up against a Sully.”

Raising your eyebrows, you looked at Jake in bewilderment, “A Sully?”

“Come on, y/n. Don’t act surprised. You’re a Sully. Always have been.”

“Especially after today,” Lo’ak whispered under his breath, but as soon as it came out of his mouth he mentally scolded himself.

You and Neteyam looked at each other, before your heads went downcast. There was nothing that either of you could do. Jake wasn’t stupid and neither Neytiri.

The room fell quiet, no one saying anything as we waited for him to speak, the silence bearing into our souls as his usual disciplinarian attitude took over.

“What are you talking about?” Jake’s expression rigid as he stared the three of you down. Yet, he was only asking, hoping that he would not be told a lie.

“It’s nothing, Dad. Seriously.” But Jake wasn’t buying into Lo’ak’s attempted reassurance.

Jake’s eyes darted to Neteyam, who avoided his father’s gaze, before he looked to you, “Go take the girls somewhere. I need to have a talk with my sons.”

“But Jake, I am also as much a part of this as them.” You protested, but he instantly refused, “Just do as I say y/n.”

“Yes Jake.” You complied, Kiri, despite the whining of her sister, took Tuk out of the hut with you behind them. You walked a few paces before quickly and quietly making your way back, finding a crevice near the outside of the entrance to listen in.

Jake, Neytiri behind him, looked at them with a cold stare. “Tell us. What happened?”

Neteyam could feel the fear gathering within him, pitting at his stomach in an unbearable way. Yet, from the outside, that fear was nowhere to be found, There was only a serious, fixed expression affirmed by his straight posture.

“We are mated for life. Y/n and I.” The words flowed out easily, Neteyam unblinking as he watched his parents’ reactions.

Outside, Kiri nudged your shoulder, radiant as she mouthed her congratulations. Tuk wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, tugging at her sister to explain.

Whispering, Kiri carefully chose her words, whispering quietly, “You know how mom and dad are together? That’s how Neteyam and y/n are now.”

Tuk, nodding her head, instantly understood, her eyes wild with excitement as she hugged you.

—

“You bonded with y/n?” Neytiri questioned, her eyes were more stunned than furious, but she remained stern in her demeanor.

Jake on the other hand kept his harsh, scolding glare, crossing his arms as he waited for his son’s response.

Your words echoed in Neteyam’s mind, his inner resolve strengthening as he held onto every comfort he felt from you. Despite all the pressure he felt and how afraid he was to disappoint his parents, he had a greater fear now.

Losing you.

He was confident in how he felt about you, his voice strong as he defended himself, “I’m not a little kid anymore. Y/n and I… we’re not little kids anymore. I know this is the right choice, and I know that you know it too. We grew up together Dad and I—“

“I know!” Jake blurted, his eyes becoming downcast, the suddenness shocking Neteyam, and even Neytiri, who looked at her husband with a concerned confusion.

Putting a hand on his head, he reluctantly let the words settle into his mind, “I know you aren’t little kids anymore.”

“Ma Jake.” She said softly, coming up from behind him to place her hands reassuringly on his shoulders.

Her presence calmed Jake down a little as he sighed, glancing back up at his son, his oldest son. For the first time in a long time, Jake’s face was not stern. Immersed in a softened, but contemplative expression, Jake didn’t just look at his son. He saw him. It was as if Jake had put a filter on Neteyam before because suddenly, he looked all grown up. He wasn’t the little son he had taught to fish and hunt so long ago. And suddenly, Jake felt as if his own youth was slipping, his purpose as a father slipping out of his reach as he took in what his son really was. Neteyam was grown, and he had grown into everything that Jake could have hoped for in a son.

Neteyam stood looking at his father with disbelief, not only by his outburst, but also by his rare, soft expression. He was unsure what to do. Neteyam had grown so used to the militant attitude of his father that the contrast of vulnerability made him feel awkward, as if he was forbidden to ever see his father in such a state.

“You’re old enough to make your own decisions.” Jake admitted, his heart slightly aching at the fact. But still, Jake was the father, and although it felt like he had lost grip of it for a moment, he did what he always had to maintain that role, reclaiming his strictness as he began to lecture Neteyam.

“But this was a big decision, Neteyam. Where was your head at?” Jake’s eyebrows furrowing as he waited for Neteyam’s response.

“Well, we know where his other one was.” Lo’ak snickered quietly, but everyone heard him, sending him a death glare.

Neytiri threw her hands up, her voice aggravated, “Must I sew my youngest son’s mouth shut for him to learn?”

Lo’ak’s face dropped, tight-lipped at his mother’s scolding, but he still couldn’t help himself.

Jake’s eyes were expectant as he turned his attention back on Neteyam, waiting for his son to answer him.

You, Kiri, and Tuk were also eagerly waiting, eyes bouncing back and forth between Jake and Neteyam.

No longer afraid or hesitant, Neteyam stood tall in front of his parents. His eyes glimmered and knowing exactly what he wanted to say, he spoke with a conviction that couldn’t be ignored, “Dad, I see her and I love her. I won’t apologize for loving y/n. I am only sorry that you and mom had to hear about it like this.”

You were overcome with such a heartwarming feeling in your chest that you let out a sigh, holding your hand to your heart affectionately as you kept your eyes on your Neteyam. Kiri looked over at you, smiling warmly and putting a hand on your shoulder.

Jake let out a huff, taking in his son’s words. He wasn’t sure what else he could say. There was no authoritarian dialogue left for him to say, no scolding script, or even a strict, reticent glare.

“Come here,” Jake finally let out, hugging Neteyam.

Shocked, Neteyam blinked before finally returning his father’s hug, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He looked to his mother whose hands were at her mouth, the moment making her smile uncontrollably.

“You too, knucklehead.” He called out to Lo’ak, placing his hand on his son’s head. Neytiri joined too, placing her hands around everyone, her head resting on Jake’s shoulder.

“Me too! Me too!” Tuk ran in, squeezing herself in between her brothers,

Jake’s eyes darted over to the entrance of the hut where you and Kiri slowly appeared in. You suddenly felt awkward knowing that you were eavesdropping on the whole conversation. Kiri’s conscience seemed to be clear though as she ran to join her family. Her parents welcomed her, snuggling her in and laughing. You were still hesitant, standing in the door, but smiling at them. They were the family that took you in and loved you for as long as you could remember. You suddenly remembered your parents too, your heart missing them and wishing that they were there to celebrate such joyousness.

Jake and Neytiri both looked over to you, opening their arms, not an ounce of anger or shame could be found in their eyes. Jake raised an eyebrow at you, “Are you really going to just stand there? This group hug won’t be complete without my favorite Sully.”

“Your favorite Sully, dad? She’s clearly mine.” Neteyam said lightheartedly.

“This is really getting more and more barfworthy by the second.” Lo’ak complained, his face in disgust while everyone else hardly shared the same sentiment.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you made your way over, opening your arms as everyone enveloped you into the group hug, this time with you snugly included in the middle.

“You know dad,” Kiri murmured, all of you turning your attention to her, “Even when we’re all grown up and having our own families, you’ll still be our dad and mom will still be our mom. You always say it. Sullys stick together.”

Jake eyed her for a moment, a smile on his face, “That’s right. Sullys stick together. Just don’t grow up too fast like your brother here. “ He paused, taking in the sight of all his children, his eyes suddenly flashed with warning, “I mean it, okay? No funny business, no mates, and no families.” Neytiri glared at him, his expression turned guilty as he added to his response, “…At least not for a while.”

Everyone agreed and after, fits of laughter burst into the hut, engulfing you in an undeniable blanket of warmth. You embraced the moment, internally thanking Ewya for giving you what you saw as a second chance at life, a life with a family that loved and cherished you beyond what you could have ever dreamed. When the Sky People killed your parents, everything had spiraled into an abyss of nothingness, emptiness that had only been fed by the loneliness that crept into your heart after being orphaned in such a tragic way. 

But, the Sullys, they found a way to bring you out of the abyss, starving the emptiness you felt in your soul and filling your heart anew. They were all in your heart, so wedged in there that it was impossible for them to ever not be there. But, your parents still had their place in there too, like shrapnel that was difficult to remove, but a pain to carry. You still missed them terribly, and in this moment of unadulterated happiness and warmth, you felt the flecks of coldness from that shrapnel in your heart, your inner self wishing that they were still around to experience such joyousness with you.

Jake leaned back, looking at you and Neteyam, the rest of the Sullys separating to match his gaze. Clearing his throat, Jake spoke, “As for you two, though…don’t make me a grandfather too soon. I’m still your father and I have the right to enforce that.”

You kept your heart’s shrapnel at bay, managing a smile as you nodded at Jake, Neteyam also reassuring his father of his responsibility to the family and to you. That was all Jake wanted to hear, and with another satisfied grin, he dismissed you all.

“Don’t be late going to bed you guys.” Jake warned, eyes wide at his kids in search for their compliance. The three youngest nodded, bolting out of the hut, but you and Neteyam were slow with your pacing, calmly walking out.

Now that you were out of the hut, you let your smile fall, your head downcast as you played with your fingers, trying to distract from the happenings in your mind. Naturally, Neteyam noticed, holding your hand as you walked, “My y/n, what is wrong?”

Your heart fluttered the way he said your name, relaxing the inching impressions of loneliness that crept up on you, “I am so happy to be part of your family and for your family to be so accepting toward me all these years. But, I don’t know I just…” You paused, tears delicately falling out of your eyes, “I miss my parents so much suddenly, and I don’t know it just feels like I-I turned my back on them for leaving home. I’m sorry if this is too much.”

“No, no it is not too much,” He halted, stepping in front of you, “No one will ever be able to replace your parents, not even us. We know that and it is alright. It is okay to miss them. Loving people also means missing them. Your parents are still with you, y/n. In Ewya. Even though we are far from our Tree of Souls, I know they are proud of you and I know that they wouldn’t want to see their beautiful girl crying either.”

You had no words suddenly, feeling the metallic of your heart’s shrapnel falling away, the tender effect of Neteyam’s words replacing it. You caressed his cheek as he reached up to wipe your tears. Looking down, he reached down into his cloth pocket, sparking your curiosity. His hand revealing two shells, he placed one into your hand gently.

You tilted your head, “What’s this?”

Excitement glinted in his expression, the corners of his mouth upturned into a warm grin, “I saw these by our spot. Tsireya told me that shells symbolize love, so I wanted you to have one and then I will have this one.” He replied, pointing at the other shell in his hand.

The butterflies kicked in once more as you observed the shell, your heart’s pace quickening with every nudge of your finger, “Neteyam, it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful and I…”

You felt the tears around your eyes again as whatever heaviness that could still be lying in your heart lifted with Neteyam’s reassurance. HIs eyes glistened at you with concerned love while you spoke, “Thank you Neteyam. I do not know if I will ever be able to tell that to you enough to really express how much I mean it.”

His eyes continued to gleam as he pulled you into him, your hearts touching as he wrapped his arms around you, “Good thing we have a lifetime ahead of us then.”

—

for those who asked for a part 2, i’ve tagged you! thank you so much for enjoying my fic! i truly appreciate all of you and your kind words :)

if you would like to be tagged in the next post, please let me know through here, or if you are more comfortable with sending a dm or an ask, please do! thanks!

<3

@he110hon

@perseny 

@jasmineee05

@notmeduhh

@ntyilh

@drxwstxrkxy

The bus stops in front of you, its brakes squeaking. You close your umbrella and get on, sitting where you usually do, at the back, next to the window. Placed between your legs, your umbrella is getting your jeans wet, but you don’t care. You close your eyes, letting the music in your ears soothe you. You’ve been taking the same bus route everyday for years, so you know exactly how much time you have before your stop. It’s not like you’re afraid of falling asleep, anyway. You never sleep in transportation, and it’s not like your mind has been able to rest easy recently. 

Your playlist transports you through melancholic melodies, pianos and violins lulling your senses. Your favorite songs do not let you forget the ache - they remind you of it, softly, tenderly. That’s what you want, anyway. 

You’re not interested in forgetting. You just want to heal.

When you open your eyes, your stop is a minute away. You press the button and get up, ignoring the inevitable looks of the other passengers on the bus. People are always staring. Always judging. Often, you care. These days, not so much. You can’t control them, what they do, what they think. They’ll see the shadows under your eyes, the pale skin, the chapped lips, and they’ll tell yourselves, she isn’t sleeping much. She looks terrible. She must be going through something. 

So what if I am, you want to tell them? Aren’t we all? 

When you step off the bus, it’s barely raining anymore and you decide not to open your umbrella. You let the rain slide through your hair, against your hands. You’re so cold but you’re used to it. You haven’t been able to warm up in a while. The rain feels good, actually. It makes you aware of your body, of your skin. As you walk towards your apartment building, you tilt your head backwards and let the rain fall down your cheeks like tears. 

Daylight has almost vanished when you unlock your apartment door, and you step inside with a sigh. You’ve grown to hate this place so much, but there is nowhere else to go. You should look for another apartment, but moving seems like an insurmountable amount of shit to go through and you just don’t have the energy. Maybe in a few weeks. Maybe in a few months. Maybe. 

You start by taking a shower, the boiling hot water contrasting with your icy cold skin. You wash your hair, apply lotion. Your movements are slow but you get there eventually. Wrapped in your bathrobe, you open your closet and stare at your clothes. It’s not that you hate them, you just have no idea what to choose. You’re not going someplace fancy, so you end up slipping on a simple pair of jeans and a warm sweater. 

You should probably eat something, but your stomach is in a tight knot. There will be food at Yeji’s place, anyway. 

As you check your phone and realize you still have some time before you have to leave, you let out a long sigh and sit on your bed. You’re not sure you really want to go, but your friends organized this movie night a while ago and they are excited for it. Yeji’s place is perfect for it - she has a projector, which allows the movies to play as wide as the wall. Everyone has been tasked to bring their favorite snacks and drinks. It’s going to be a chill night, and you’ll be happy to see your friends, but everything feels exhausting. 

You promised you were going to be there. So you will go. 

It’s not like they will bother you, anyway. They all know you pretty well, although some more than others, but they are all aware of what is going on with you. No secrets to have. Still you don’t want to be a bore, and you know you’ll do your best to smile throughout. It’s not that they want you to - but you’ll still do it. It’s just who you are. 

At least he won’t be there. Yeji said he wouldn’t - had plans already, apparently. It would be okay if your ex was there - actually, you’ve seen him a couple of times already since your breakup. But you need to be in the right mindset - and today you aren’t, so it’s good he’ll be absent. 

You let out a long sigh and stand up to dry your hair. 

You apply simple makeup, a bit of eyeliner, some mascara. You put on your favorite necklace. You decide to wear perfume. Little things to make you feel better, like you aren’t crippled inside, like you don’t have a decaying organ in your chest. It’s recent, that you’re able to do that. A week ago you would’ve showed up in sweatpants and messy hair. 

Little steps. 

As you grab a tote bag to fill it with the snacks you bought yesterday, you get a text from Yeji. 

Everything okay? 

Come anytime <3

She’s checking up on you and you’re grateful for it. Not a lot of people do, not even your closest friends. You don’t blame them - you haven’t been good company and sometimes it’s hard to find the right words. Some of them have been anxious that your breakup with San will mess up their friend group, and in fear of seeming like they’re taking sides, they just decided not to say anything. They take care of you differently - but sometimes you hate that they can’t talk about it with you. 

Yeji doesn’t do that. She’s been there for you at every step - and it’s not because she blames or dislikes San. It’s just different for you and her, because your friendship not only goes way back when your friend group got together, but also way beyond. 

Leaving in 5, you text back, and she sends a heart emoji. 

Once you’re ready, you slip on your jacket and stare at your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look your normal self, except for the obvious exhaustion on your face, and the slightly vacant look in your eyes. 

You can do this. 

You won’t let your stupid, broken heart define you or your life. 

When you get to Yeji’s, she pulls you into a tight hug. A few people are already there - Jeongin is already snacking on a huge bowl of popcorn, talking to Lily, who’s on her phone scrolling down Pinterest boards. Changbin and his girlfriend, the newest addition to your friend group, are bundled up under a blanket on the couch and wave at you. 

You follow Yeji to the kitchen, putting the cans of soda you brought in the fridge, adding your snacks to the pile on the counter. 

“You look really pretty,” Yeji tells you with a smile. “Is that the sweater we got together the other day?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m still not sure about the color, though.”

“No, it suits you. I promise.” 

You give her a sincere smile as she empties a bag of potato chips in a bowl. It’s quiet in the apartment, but you know it won’t last very long - except for Changbin, the loudest people have yet to arrive. 

“How was work today?” Yeji asks. 

“Fine,” you shrug. “Boring.” 

She gives you a long look. 

“You know you don’t have to stay there, right? You can find something else. With your skills it would be easy -”

“I know, Yeji,” you say in a low voice. “But not right now.” 

You play with your nail polish, chipping a small piece from your thumb. 

“Right now boring is good,” you nod, your voice a little more firm. “When I can focus more, I’ll look for something else. Promise.” 

She smiles, taking your hand to give it a squeeze. “I just don’t want you to waste away where you don’t belong. You’re worth so much more.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

You put your head on her shoulder for a second as Jeongin’s laugh resonates through the apartment. It’s a sweet and familiar sound, and you start to believe it was a good idea to come. 

Grabbing the filled bowls of potato chips, you and Yeji join the others in the living room. You sit down next to Jeongin, who quickly shows you the funny puppy video Lily has shown him, and you giggle at the screen. As Yeji starts to set up the projector, the door opens on a few more of your friends and you know it won’t be quiet anymore. 

Chan, Jisung and Minho are yelling about something, raising the volume of the conversation a million dozen decibels, and you shake your head at the sight of them. Chaotic and loud as they are, even in your state you are grateful for them, because whatever the circumstances they can always make you smile, or, at least, provide welcome distractions. 

They drop down in the remaining spots, either on the couch or the floor, Minho diving his hand down Jeongin’s popcorn bowl and Jisung arguing with Changbin about the type of beer he bought - of course, as usual, Jisung’s only answer to Changbin’s complaint is a simple traitor. 

“THIS AGAIN…” Changbin yells at the top of his lungs. 

You can’t help but smile. That game has been going on since Changbin moved out of his apartment with Jisung and Chan to move in with his girlfriend - Minho took his spot since, and there really isn’t any bad blood between them, but Jisung loves to remind Changbin how he abandoned them. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Minho says, sitting down between you and Jeongin. You took the spot at the end of the couch, a blanket covering your legs. “How’s it going?” 

“I’m okay,” you say with a smile. “What about you?” 

“Fantastic. Did you check out that link I sent you?” 

You start to talk a little - you and Minho work in a similar domain and it’s always nice to exchange ideas and anecdotes. You find yourself immersed in the conversation, the noise of all your friends chatting and laughing mixing into a background noise you can’t get enough of - it definitely helps the black hole inside your chest. You don’t feel so cold, you don’t feel so empty. You know it won’t last, and reality will catch up to you quickly, but for now you allow yourself to relax. 

“Y/N.” 

You turn towards Chan, who has stopped at your level. He’s smiling kindly at you, looking a little tired - but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Like you, Chan barely sleeps. Neither of you can stop the ceaseless train of thought in your heads - while you stare at the ceiling, Chan works. 

“Hey, Channie.” 

“You want something to drink?” 

“Yeah, maybe a soda.” 

“Cool, coming right up.”

“Oiiiii, what about me?” Minho whines. 

He asks for a can of beer, followed by Lily who has finished her previous one, and soon everyone is yelling at Chan to bring them something to drink. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and you chuckle. 

“Let me help you,” you say, standing up. “Y’all are lazy,” you add, squinting your eyes at your friends. 

Their protests all tangle together and you laugh, following Chan to the kitchen. 

Your friends. 

They are all precious to you, all in their own way. 

But Chan. Chan. 

The first time you met him you felt your heartbeat accelerate because he looked so damn charming. A kind smile, eyes like stars, and an energy that immediately soothed you. It did not take long for you to develop a crush on him. How could you not? He was kind, funny, talented, and smart. He truly cared for the people in his life and never broke a promise. Handsome, too, of course. The kind of guy that made you weak in the knees, that sent your thoughts reeling whenever he touched you. 

Your crush had always been one-sided though, which was fine. You had quickly worked to overcome your physical attraction to him and made it a priority to develop your friendship. Because Chan understood you. You found yourselves exchanging looks and agreeing on similar things often enough so that one day, you sat down next to him during a party to ask for advice and you ended up talking for hours, forgetting to get drunk like everyone else. 

You are not particularly close. You don’t know everything about each other. You mostly see each other with the rest of your friend group - rarely alone. You don’t text each other everyday - in fact, you barely do. But he’s a steady presence in your life, a friend you rely on, and you know it’s the same for him. 

Tonight, you’re especially grateful for him. 

Chan gives you a smile as he opens the fridge. 

“I like your sweater,” he says, handing you a pack of sodas. 

You put it on the kitchen island, smiling. 

“Thank you. I like your earrings. Are they new?” 

You’re used to Chan wearing his silver hoops, but today he’s sporting a simple black dot on one ear, a small lightning bolt on the other. 

“Yeah, I felt like a change,” he nods. “They say it’s good for us, right?” 

“I guess,” you answer simply. “It suits you.”

“Thanks.” 

You exchange smiles, gathering all the desired drinks slowly. You glance at him sometimes, at the angle of his nose, at the dark curls that brush his ears. Your crush on Chan eventually faded away, although never entirely. You have just buried it so deep inside you sometimes you forget it is there - you haven’t thought about it for a long time.

Then again, your heart has been entirely occupied by San. 

Heart.

Body.

Soul.

All of which lay in pieces, now. 

Chan must see the shadows in your eyes, because he frowns a little, looking intently at you. 

“Is something wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to shake the bad thoughts away at the same time.

“No, no, don’t worry.” 

Chan gives you a smile and a short nod, although he’s still frowning. He can feel you don’t want to linger on it - you hope he knows it’s not that you don’t trust him. Besides Yeji, Chan is perhaps the friend you trust the most. 

You remember every single hug he’s given you. 

Always so warm. 

Always at the right time. 

He probably doesn’t know some of them gave you the strength to hold on. The most recent one, about two weeks ago. 

“Can I have another one, please?” 

The barman gives you a nod and turns to prepare you another beer.

Besides you, Yeji gives you a long look. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” 

“Just one more,” you tell her, lifting an index. 

She smiles, throwing an arm around your neck. She keeps a close eye on you - that’s why you feel comfortable to indulge in another drink. You need it, after all. Since your breakup with San, you’ve barely touched alcohol, choosing instead to drown in snacks and utter isolation. 

So for your friend, it’s a step forward that you’ve agreed to come tonight. 

It’s just you, Yeji, Chan and Jisung. A quiet night at the local pub. 

A few beers, a board game.

When you have a new full pint, you and Yeji head back to the table and sit down. All of you decide to play another game, and Jisung starts shuffling the cards, telling you some dumb joke. You know he’s doing that to make you feel better, and it works. You find yourself smiling so much your cheeks hurt a little. 

You place your head on his shoulder, affectionately, and cross Chan’s gaze. He’s smiling, too, fondly. 

Your friends are talking and your heart hurts so fucking much.

You miss San. You’ve fallen out of love a long time ago, you now realize, but it’s still painful. You have to start over. You have to find yourself again. It’ll be long work - but you’ll do it. And as you look at your friends, you think to yourself they will make it easier. You’ve been drinking a little, and the emotion swells in your chest. 

“Y/N, don’t cry!” Yeji cries out, noticing the tears on your cheeks.

You have not even realized you are crying. You touch your skin in surprise, letting out a giggle.

“Awwww, no, honey,” Jisung says, drawing you in his arms. 

He rocks you like a child and you laugh as more tears drip down your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I love you guys so much.” 

“Nooo, you’re gonna make me cry too,” Yeji cries out, taking your hand.

“I know it’s not… Not easy for you, because San is your friend, and…” You sniffle. “I don’t want this to be difficult for you.”

“Don’t say that, Y/N,” Jisung whispers. “We’re your friends, too.” 

“We’re here for you,” Chan nods. 

Crying and laughing at the same time, your friends decide to keep playing to get your mind off of things. You’re grateful.

Yeji wins, of course. She always does. Once all your beers are finished, you agree to go. Chan will drive Yeji home - he’s only had one pint. Jisung lives close to you, so you decide to walk together. 

You say goodnight to Yeji. She places a kiss on your cheek, squeezes your hand. Chan draws you into a hug. 

It’s so loving. So steady. 

It takes the breath out of your lungs. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he says in your ear. “I’m here if you need me.” 

You’re too dumbstruck to reply. But you know you’ll remember those words for a long time.

You do. 

You still remember the words - you can still hear them. 

He’s here.

He loves you.

Like a friend, of course. 

But that is more than enough.

“Y/N?” 

Chan’s voice brings you back to the present. You shake your head and chuckle.

“Sorry. I was just lost in thought.” 

He nods, biting his lip nervously. “By the way, I wanted to ask. There’s this concert next -” 

That’s when you hear the door open - followed by a voice.

His voice.

Your blood freezes in your veins, and you stare dumbly at Chan, unable to move. 

You feel like bursting out in tears. No, no, no. 

Not him, not tonight. 

You feel Chan’s eyes on you. Yet, you don’t really see him. He delicately puts a hand on your wrist. 

“Y/N…” 

You try to gather your thoughts. You should’ve prepared, just in case. You feel so stupid. Of course it was all going too well. 

You’re startled when Yeji bursts in the kitchen, puts her hands on your shoulders and seeks your eyes. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, honey -” 

“What the hell?” you hear Chan mutter next to you. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to come.” 

“He wasn’t,” Yeji hisses. “I swear, he told me he couldn’t.” 

“Fuck’s sake, this dude…” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. 

Slowly, you look up at your friends, gathering a smile. 

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice clear. You take Yeji’s hands in yours, nod at her. “I’m fine.” 

“Y/N…” 

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I’ll be fine.” 

You look at Chan next, and you feel like your heart will burst out of your chest. There’s something in his eyes you can’t identify, a spark that is also a shadow. He’s frowning, his body slightly bent towards you, like he’s about to pull you into a hug. You clear your throat and nod, praying to all you can not to let your voice tremble. 

“It’s all right,” you say. “He’s our friend. He should be here.” 

And to some degree, you mean it. 

Yeji gives you a tight hug, and you can hear Chan let out a long sigh from behind you. You can’t linger on it - you have to focus on yourself. 

Stay calm. Breathe. 

You can do this. 

The breakup was hard for the both of you, you remind yourself. You loved each other, you really did, that much you’re sure of. San was never that good of a liar. You have a much more vulnerable nature than him, which was always a source of conflict between you, but you know your breakup affected him. You remember the tears in his eyes. The vein in his neck, pulsing, as he held them back. You remember the way his hand clenched yours. The way his words came out broken from between his teeth. 

It’s over, isn’t it? 

You fell out of love. 

It happens. 

You take a deep breath. You still want San to be your friend. You’ve agreed that you would try, and you intend to follow through on your words. 

You take a step to follow Yeji back to the living room, but Chan puts a delicate hand on your shoulder. You turn around, plunge your eyes in his. You’ve always thought of them as a haven, a night sky full of stars, both deep and bright.

He stares at you with a clenched jaw and a furrowed brow. He smells as he always has, a smell you’ve wanted on your pillow for so long - and it still makes you slightly dizzy although you know there’s no chance with him. 

“If at any moment you want to go home, tell me, yeah?” he whispers to you. “I’ll drive you.” 

You’re a little entranced by the soft lines on his full lips and the way his low voice scrapes - but you manage a nod, after what feels like a long second. 

“Thank you.” 

He nods, gives your shoulder a squeeze and lets you go. The warmth of his hand lingers there, and it gives you courage to move forward. 

San has already taken a seat next to Jisung and glances at you when you walk into the room. Your friends are kind enough to keep the conversation going, so the room doesn’t fall silent, but your heart sinks at the bottom of your chest. 

Because San doesn’t look tired. He doesn’t look sad. 

In fact, he beams. 

Eyes sparkling. 

New clothes, new watch. 

A smile so wide it slices right through your heart. 

Fuck, he looks so happy. 

You have to bite your tongue so you burst out crying. You stagger a little bit, but Chan is right behind you and it prevents you from falling back. His warmth, the voices of your friends, everything makes it better. 

“Hey,” you manage to say, although you’re not sure how. “You look good.” 

“Thanks, you too,” he tells you, but his voice is distant. His eyes are too, like he doesn’t even see you anymore. Not like he did before. 

It’s abundantly clear - your ex has moved on. 

It’s not that you still have feelings for him - you just need time to grieve what you had. San was a huge part of your life for a long time, and suddenly he isn’t there anymore. That absence, that void, that’s what is difficult to deal with. Being so goddamn alone all the time. No one to make you feel loved. No one to love, either. 

You’re still putting yourself back together. 

You’re still healing. 

Not him. He’s done it. 

You should be happy for him, and in a way, you are. You’re not mad he’s moved on. But it happened so quickly. It hasn’t even been two months. You were together for more than a year. Maybe you’re jealous, maybe you’re bitter. But mostly it hurts. 

How long is it going to take you? Why are you so goddamn sensitive? 

You breathe out and help Chan bring everyone their drinks. San’s laughter is a haunting melody and you can’t wait for the movie to start so you can think about something else. You take your previous seat, and Jeongin rubs your back affectionately, offering you the bowl of popcorn. 

Chan sits at the opposite side of the room. Pathetically, you wish he was still next to you. Instead you focus on the images that start playing, projected on the white wall in front of you. It’s a movie you’ve already seen, but that’s ok. It’s not like you can really focus, anyway. 

Because all you can see is San. Funny, clever, happy. You know him, you’d know if he was pretending, but he isn’t. He’s liberated. It’s the only word that comes to mind. You wonder for how long you’ve been bringing him down. If he realized it and hated you for it. If he couldn’t wait to get rid of you. If he was just looking for an excuse and -

You close your eyes and put a stop to the intruding thoughts.

No. It wasn’t like that. 

Was it? 

You don’t know anymore.

You barely follow the movie because your thoughts keep spiraling. Around you, your friends are chatting, making jokes, and commenting on the movie. Jisung’s laugh is so loud it takes over sometimes and you take refuge in it. But your heart feels frozen in place, in the middle of two beats, unable to go forward. You stare into nothing. You don’t even touch your soda. The popcorn, either - so you hand it back to Jeongin. His presence feels good, too. 

You hate yourself for being unable to live in the moment. For letting your mind wander like it is, dizzy and unkind. 

In the movie, people say what they think. 

In the movie, loving doesn’t seem so hard. 

In the movie, it doesn’t rain. 

It’s a blessing and a curse that everyone is watching the movie, and that you’re sitting in the corner, in the dark. Your eyes are filled with tears and suddenly one escapes and slides down your cheek. You fidget in your seat, faking a yawn to wipe it away. You pull the blanket over your trembling body. You laugh when the others do, although it’s heartless. Nobody notices - or so you think - and it’s a good thing. 

You try to focus on the movie. It’s entertaining, it’s funny, and for a minute, maybe, you succeed in feeling better. Then you see, from the corner of your eye, San pulling out his phone. He stares at the screen, and in the dark, its blue light illuminates his face. He smiles at it and types a few words. You know that smile. Fuck, you were that smile, once. 

You clench your jaw, hard, and wanting to look away you accidentally fall into Chan’s eyes. He’s looking at you, and although you can’t see his face very well in the darkness, you notice the worry in his eyes. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t say anything - but you hear his silent question. You need to go?

You shake your head slowly, forcing a smile. I’m fine. I’m fine. 

He nods. He doesn’t believe you. 

You stand up on shaky legs and head to the bathroom. Once you close the door, you don’t even open the light. You wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of your own reflection. You just breathe out, breathe in, and then breathe out again. The tears fall down your cheeks, warm. They taste bitter on your lips. 

Why can’t you be like him? Why can’t you move on, be happy? 

You take a few minutes to collect yourself. It’s fine - you don’t mind seeing San. It’s good, if, unlike you, he’s able to rebuild himself. It’s all you wish for him, and you know it’s all he wishes for you, too. He’d probably be honestly sad to know you aren’t doing well. You can never tell him, of course. You’ll pretend as well as you can - you can’t allow yourself to be vulnerable with him for now. You’ll keep it for yourself, shamefully, selfishly. 

It will be fine. 

You’ll get over it. He did, so why not you?

Once you feel ready, you head out the bathroom, and Chan is there, leaning against the wall. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” you chuckle. “I didn’t realize someone was waiting. Did you -” 

You stop as Chan puts his hands on your shoulders and pulls you to him. You fall into his arms, and you’re a little shocked so you don’t move at first. Still, Chan holds you there. You stammer. 

“C-Chan, I’m okay, you don’t have to -” 

“Y/N,” he says, and there’s something about the way he whispers your name that makes your heart ache. “I saw you crying. Please. You don’t have to hide.” 

Gently, you let your head fall against his chest. He hugs you a little tighter. 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” he whispers. “You don’t have to hide.” 

You nod. He said it in such a way, you don’t know what it is. 

You are friends. 

You’ve been for a long time. 

Despite your crush on him, despite the awkward period where he was aware of it but didn’t say anything, despite all of that, you are friends. 

But Chan has always been more than that for you.

Chan is a pillar, Chan is a mess. 

Chan is both the lighthouse and the storm. 

You like the feel of his arms around you. The way his chest moves as he breathes. The texture of his t-shirt. 

Oh, God. Not again. 

You can’t let your crush come back running. You’re just sad. You’re just lonely. It wouldn’t be fair to Chan, would it? He’s your friend. He’s not a pretty face you can choose to lust over whenever you’re lonely. 

Don’t do that to yourself, Y/N. 

Don’t do that to him.

Chan is your friend and he is only trying to be here for you. 

“Do you want to go home?” he whispers in your hair. 

You take a deep breath and nod. Chan takes a step back, smiling kindly at you. You do the same, although it’s a little faint. He bends his knees slightly to be at your height, gently rubs your cheeks to remove the tears and replace your hair. 

“Let’s go, then, love.” 

You don’t have time to gawk at him for using a nickname he’s never said before, because he turns and waves at you to follow him. 

He tells your friends you’re feeling a little sick and he’ll drive you home. You say there’s the flu going around at the office, and you hate lying to your friends, because you know some of you will believe you and some won’t. Right now you don’t really care - even if they all knew it was a lie, they wouldn’t judge you. You make sure to not avoid San’s eyes and smile at him. You don’t want him to start asking questions. 

You get your things. Yeji gives you a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, making you promise you’ll text tomorrow. You nod, squeezing her hand and glancing at your friends. There will come a day when you’ll be yourself again. 

You just need time.

Time and a lot of courage.

When you step outside, with Chan right behind you, you realize it’s raining again. You look up at the sky, now a profound black painted by hints of grey clouds. You run to his car, the rain heavy and cold.  

The car is clean and smells nice. Chan pulls back his hoodie, starts the engine and drives away as you look back at the apartment building. You wish you were stronger. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Chan says, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping on his thigh to the rhythm of the song on the radio. 

“Do you?” you tell him with a smile. 

“I do,” he nods, matching your smile. “You’re telling yourself you should be stronger.” 

You gawk at him, feeling both embarrassed and scandalized. He shrugs. 

“Didn’t I ever tell you I can read you like an open book?” 

“Tsk,” you retort. “Wasn’t that when we played Mafia?” 

“Whatever applies to Mafia applies to real life.” 

“Not sure that’s true.” 

“This is.” 

You glare at him and he does the same, playfully. You feel much more relaxed now that you’re here. It was always easy to talk to Chan - never does that change, whatever the circumstances. You are much alike in that you tend to put others before yourselves, often at the sacrifice of your own feelings. For some reason, though, that didn’t work between you. The walls immediately fall apart.

“So I’m an open book, huh?” you say, staring at your hands. 

“To me, yes. When I have my eyes on you.” 

“And you had your eyes on me tonight?” you ask without thinking. 

“Of course,” he answers, stopping the car at a red light. “I stayed sober, kept a close eye on you. Just in case.” 

You wince. “Just in case I started crying hysterically or made a scene?” 

He shakes his head, looking at you. The red light reflects on his face, enveloping the car in its hue. The rain thumps on the car in soft sounds. Chan’s dark hair is messy on his head, charmingly curled at the tips. 

“More like in case he did something,” he eventually says. 

“Why would he?” you ask with a frown, assuming he’s talking about San.

“Well…” Chan sighs. “He can be a dick sometimes.” 

You’re surprised by his words - you never would’ve thought that Chan disliked San. On all accounts, they are good friends. Chan chuckles nervously at your look, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry. I know you were a thing for a long time, but… It’s just what I think.” 

“Did he do something?” 

Chan shrugs. “It’s just a feeling. Never really did anything. Except breaking up with you, of course.” 

You scoff. “He’s an asshole for breaking up with me?” 

“Yeah,” Chan stammers. “Just - like - who would ever let a girl like you go?” 

His words don’t make a lot of sense to you. They come to you muffled, as if you are plunged in a dream or in a drunken state. You honestly can’t believe your ears. 

“What are you -” 

He quickly waves his hand, looks away from you to the road ahead - and fortunately for him, the light turns green, so he has a good excuse to change the subject. 

“Don’t mind me. I’m just rambling.” 

You really don’t want to let this go. Your heart is racing, and you honestly wouldn’t know San’s name if someone was to yell it in your ear right now. All you can see is Chan, his tightened jaw, gripping the wheel of his car, driving you home. His words echo in your head, and you’re trying to put everything together. 

Did you miss something? Clearly, Chan has something on his mind, an itch he can’t scratch. Have you been so intoxicated by your grief and sadness that you blacked out? You haven’t been a good friend, that much you know. You just wanted to feel better, first. You were of use to no one feeling this sad and broken. But Chan’s agitation has clearly been there for a while. How long have you been this blind? 

You open your mouth, trying to find the right words. Chan, what is going on?

Chan, are you angry at me?

Chan, please, tell me what’s on your mind. 

You sigh in frustration. You’re silent for a while, your thoughts spiraling, and just when you’re just about ready to ask, your phone rings. You glance at the screen instinctively, and San’s name is like a slap on the face. 

Are you okay? he asks in a text. Tell me when you get home. 

Hints of your boyfriend. Remnants of the past. The text feels like a ghost is speaking to you. It makes you angry. It makes you ache. 

You might not love San anymore, but you miss him. 

“Are you okay?” Chan asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. 

You’re about to say you’re fine, which has become an automatic response, but you remember what Chan said. I can read you like an open book. So instead, you take a deep breath. 

“It’s San,” you explain. “He’s asking me if I’m okay and to text him when I’m home.” 

Chan scoffs, and there is nothing amiable in the sound. “The guts on this guy,” he mutters. “I’m literally driving you and he knows that.” 

You frown, sensing the anger in his voice. 

“Seriously, Chan, did something happen between your two?” 

Chan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to look at you. 

“Chan,” you insist. “Tell me, please.” 

He lets out a sigh, gripping the wheel tighter. 

“We might’ve had… an altercation.”

“An altercation?” you repeat. “Like a fight?!” 

“Not a fight,” Chan sighs. “Not a physical one, anyway.”

“What the fuck happened?” 

The words escape your mouth. An uneasy feeling washes over you. Nobody has told you about this. Nobody has said a word. 

“When did this happen?” you ask when Chan doesn’t answer.

“Like… a week ago, I think.” 

“Why didn’t no one -” 

You interrupt yourself and close your eyes. Looking out the car window, you realize you’re already parked in front of your apartment building. How did it go so fast?

For how much longer are you going to keep losing track of time? 

“Chan,” you say, your voice shaking. “Please tell me what’s going on.” 

He looks at you with timid eyes. They shimmer in the darkness but you can’t focus on them. You are trembling and you can’t hold on to a single clear thought. Your mind is a blurry mess.

Chan looks out through the window before he takes a deep breath. 

“I didn’t want to do this tonight. You need to rest, you -” 

“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll never be able to sleep, so it will be worse.” 

You feel your hands shaking, so you clench your fists. Outside, the rain accelerates, pounds loudly on the car. The sound is almost unbearable but you don’t care. 

“If you’re trying to protect me, I’m grateful,” you add, when you see he’s still hesitating. “But I can take it. I’d rather know.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice quivering. 

“We’re friends, right?” you tell him. “That’s what you said. Be my friend, Chan.” 

He sighs and rubs his eyes. You’re scared, and yet a part of you feels perfectly calm. You hate the fact that something was hidden from you, but you’re so ready to withstand whatever storm is heading your way.

You’d rather stand in chaos than into nothingness. 

At least the chaos makes a little sense. 

“Before I say anything…” Chan sighs. “I don’t want you to take any of this on you, yeah? I know you’ll feel bad, but please, just remember -” 

“For fuck’s sake, Chan,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Get to the point.”

“He has a girlfriend.” 

You stare back at him. 

“What?” 

“San. He has a girlfriend. I thought it was too soon, that it was disrespectful of you, so I told him and it got heated, but… Yeah. Shit. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

It’s like the rain suddenly got quiet. 

A girlfriend. 

You should’ve known. You saw it, after all. The phone, the text, the smile. The happiness in his eyes. The trendy clothes, the new watch. All the hints were there. 

He has moved on. 

More than you expected. 

Everything happens quickly. Your body acts before your brain registers it, and in the blink of an eye you’re outside in the pouring rain. You slam the passenger door behind you, you forget your bag, you don’t even think about it. You just walk forward.

It’s bitter cold. 

In seconds, you’re drenched. 

Your knees feel weak and you’re sure you are going to fall.

A sob escapes your throat. 

It shouldn’t hurt that much. 

You hate your heart. 

You hate how vulnerable it is. 

You want to move on, too. 

“Y/N!” 

You turn around, halfway to the door of your apartment, to find Chan running towards you. You raise your hand slowly. It’s shaking like a leaf.

“It’s fine, Chan. I’m f-” 

“Stop saying that!” 

You’re a bit surprised at the sudden anguish in his voice. He stops inches away from you, getting soaked by the heavy rain. It slides down his cheeks like tears, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. He looks at you fiercely, his eyes blazing with light. 

“I’m sorry, I just - I see you’re hurting and it’s killing me.” 

You don’t know what to tell him. You wish he would go away. You wish he would hug you. You wish the pain would just stop.  

“Y/N -”

“I don’t care!” you scream, the sound getting lost in the rain. 

Chan frowns. 

“I don’t care if he has a girlfriend,” you cry out. “I just…” You shrug, your eyes lost in Chan’s. “I just want to heal, too. I want to move on, too. I’m sick of being sad. I’m sick of hurting.” 

There is such despair in Chan’s face you can hardly bear it. You wish you could tell him not to take the weight of your pain on his shoulders, but you know him better than that. He can’t help it. That’s why he’s here with you.

“You just have to give me time,” you say, your voice falling apart. “I’ll be fine eventually.” 

He lets out a sigh, slides a hand through his drenched hair. A raindrop slides down his face, gets caught on his lips. 

“Please, let’s go inside,” he pleads. “Let me be here for you.” 

You hesitate, but the cold rain keeps you on your toes. You want to be home, in your own space, but you also don’t want to be alone. So you nod, and Chan lets out a sigh, thanking you in a whisper. 

When you step inside your apartment you’re a little shy to turn on the lights because it’s messy, but you can’t really be bothered about that right now. Chan waits on the other side of the door, a hesitant look on his face. 

“Come in,” you tell him. 

He nods, closing the door behind him. Your place is modest, just big enough for one person, situated in the semi-basement of the building. It does not get much light, but it feels cozy and it is cheap. 

The first thing you do is get a towel for Chan so he can dry his hair and his clothes. He hangs his hoodie on a hook near the door; luckily the t-shirt underneath is only damp. His dark blue jeans took the worst of the rain. You suggest giving him some dry clothes, but he insists he’ll be fine. 

You tell him to get comfortable and go to change in your room. Your limbs feel weak as you slip on a pair of sweatpants and a crewneck. You cannot stop thinking about Chan's words. 

San has a girlfriend. 

He has opened his heart to love again. 

The rain keeps falling. 

It’s time you heal. 

When you come back to the living room, Chan is anxiously staring at his phone. He puts it away when he sees you, smiling a little timidly. 

“Feel better?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Want a drink?”

“Sounds good.” 

You give him a gentle smile and you both head to the kitchen, where you fill two glasses of soju. He takes one, clinking it against yours. You drink it in one go. 

“Now that feels better,” you sigh. 

Chan smiles at you fondly, and you nudge his arm. 

“Chan. It’s all right. It had to happen.” 

“So quickly, though?” he winces. 

“We all heal at different paces,” you say softly. “Or maybe it’s his way of healing. Either way I’m happy for him.” 

Chan leans one elbow on the kitchen counter, giving you a long look. You hold his gaze, confused at the sudden calmness you feel.

“You said you can read me like an open book,” you remind him, pouring yourself another drink. “Am I lying?” 

He smiles briefly. “No.” 

“Cheers.” 

He takes another sip, and you imitate him. 

“How about we sit down?” you propose. 

Once in the living room, you sink into the couch. Chan sits at a comfortable distance, twirling his glass between his fingers. It’s strange to see him at your place - because of the size of your apartment, you rarely have friends over. You remember him driving you home a couple of times, but he must have been inside only once or twice in the three years you’ve lived here.

You talk a little, about everything and nothing. You drink some more, perhaps a little too much, but the soju warms your body. Chan relaxes, too. The bottle is quickly empty. 

You both fall silent, and you stare at the bottom of your empty glass. The tears come back too easily. 

“Chan?” 

“Yeah, love?”

You peck your lips. Hearing him say that feels too good. It’s so new, but you already don’t want him to ever stop. 

“Is she pretty?” you utter.

“Y/N…” 

“She must be. Pretty and smart.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“Do you know her?” 

You look up, and Chan shakes his head. His hair is untidy, his cheeks a little red, his full lips as inviting as ever. 

“I don’t. Ji told me they met at a party.” 

You let out a shaky sigh. “So everyone knows?” 

You hate the way your voice shudders, but you can’t help it. Chan shuffles closer to you, gently taking your hand in his. It’s warm and familiar. 

“No,” he answers in a soft voice. “Just a few. We wanted to wait for the right moment - well, actually, I thought San should be the one to tell you.” 

You laugh, wiping your tears. “No offense, but that would’ve been worse.” 

Chan snorts amusingly. “Oh. Good thing it didn’t happen, then. I thought it’d be a good idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” 

You both end up giggling, and Chan doesn’t let go of your hand. You sniffle. You don’t let go either.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you say. But why are you so invested in this?”

“In your breakup?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m not invested in your breakup,” he shrugs. “I’m invested in you, you’re my friend.” 

“But it’s - you don’t have to, you can just be like the others, not take a side, you don’t have to fight anyone.” 

“Why wouldn’t I speak out? It bothers me, you know me, I don’t shut up when it comes to people I care about.” 

“But San is your friend, too.” 

“But you’re -” 

You frown. “I’m what?” 

“You’re Y/N.” 

The tenderness in his voice takes you by surprise. It seeps through his lips, echoes in his eyes. You feel your heart twist and turn - and just like that, his fingers slip away from yours.

“Sorry, I…” He closes his eyes, shakes his head. “Hell, I’m doing it all wrong tonight. And I should really stop drinking. How the fuck am I supposed to drive back home?” 

“Chan, wait,” you say, ignoring him. “What are you trying to say?” 

He sighs heavily. His face falls in his hand, and he breathes there for a second before he looks back up at you. He looks so tired.  

“I know you had a crush on me,” he breathes. 

You smile nervously. “Why are you bringing this up?” 

“Because I have a crush on you, too,” he says. 

You blink, and it’s like the world tilts. You haven’t been drinking that much, it can’t be the soju. Still, you feel dizzy and warm. Chan is looking at you with fondness and anguish. 

He didn’t say had.

He said have.

His words are right there, still on the tip of his tongue. 

In his eyes. 

So damn bright. 

No - he’s here because he’s your friend. That’s it.

Isn’t it? 

“I don’t understand,” you breathe out.

“I never acted on it because San had wanted to ask you out for a while,” Chan explains with a shrug. “And you know me. I never put myself before others. And although I sorta knew you had a crush on me, I convinced myself San was better for you.” 

You look down at your hands, feeling completely overwhelmed. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” you whisper. 

“Because you were so happy with him,” Chan says, his voice shaking. “You found each other and it was good, and who was I to say anything? At one point it didn’t even matter anymore, and I buried it deep inside of me, told myself I was over you. You were over me, after all. It was just a crush, anyway. I was so sure you’d be in this with San for the long run.” 

So did I, you want to say. Your throat feels so dry, however, you can’t say anything. You can just stare at Chan. He smiles at you almost carefully. 

“When I heard about your breakup… Everything came rushing back. The other night, after we got drinks, and I saw you crying… I was just so worried about you. So gutted to see you hurt, it was almost unbearable. And then he said he found someone else and I couldn’t understand, and we argued. It was heated, but it’s fine now. We’re good.” 

You close your eyes because the world can’t stop spinning. You were so cold earlier, but now you’re almost sweating. You’re too warm. The world is ablaze. 

Chan is your fire.

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you. I can’t say I am. But if I let myself go…” He stumbles on his words. “I just might.” 

Time has stopped. You can barely breathe.

You feel the sting of shame.

The delightful warmth of Chan’s confession.

You’ve been so blind.   

“You just mean so much to me,” he says, his voice both low and soft. “I just want you to be happy. I just want you to be loved as you should be loved.” 

When you open your eyes, it feels like he’s sitting closer to you although he hasn’t moved. He’s not touching you, but his smell overwhelms your senses. You can’t look away, and he watches you back.

“How I wish I could,” he breathes, his eyes drilling into yours. “Fall into you. Show you how you could be loved. ” 

You drink his words like they’re the essence of life. You feel, in each one, a wish, a hope, a possibility. Ropes that were drawn and never knotted together. Lifelines, waiting to be grasped. 

“I never was,” you breathe. 

He frowns. “What?”

“Over you,” you explain. “I never was over you. I’m not.” 

He closes his eyes. 

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t tell me that.”

“It’s true,” you say, voice trembling. “I loved San, of course I did. But you were always in my heart and you will never not be.” 

Chan’s eyes drip down your eyes to your lips. You feel an ache inside your chest. It’s like it’s starting to rain indoors. What an odd feeling. 

“You don’t love him anymore?” he asks carefully, weighing every word.

“No.” 

Your voice comes in a whisper, but it’s full of certainty. 

“But Chan, I…” You swallow. “I can’t - I can’t listen to what my heart says about you, it’s not fair, you’re not… You’re not a stand-in, you’re not - you’re more important than that, and…” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

The question catches you off guard. 

“Just once,” Chan smiles. “I want to taste your lips. Just once.” 

What could you say to that? How many times did you dream about Chan’s lips on yours, wondering what they felt like? Were his kisses kind, delicate, hungry? You’d see him drink whiskey and wonder if the taste would linger on them. You’d see him kiss another girl and picture yourself in her place. 

And now he was offering you a kiss.

Hell, he wanted to kiss you. 

So you find yourself nodding, and Chan takes a long look at you, as if he’s waiting for you to change your mind. You remain immobile, lips parted, awaiting his. Slowly, he plucks them, grazing them against his - and they sink into yours, soft, like a cloud, deep, like the ocean. 

You collapse in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. He slides his fingers through your hair, his other hand embracing your waist to pull you closer. You can’t hold back a sigh from escaping your lips, and Chan responds by kissing you deeper, the movements of his lips getting almost feverish. 

“Chan,” you moan when you gasp for breath.

“Fuck, I can’t stop,” he growls, placing small kisses on your lips.

His fingers dig in your skin, and you desperately want to disappear against him, so you move your leg so you can straddle him. Chan wraps himself around you, and you feel the dampness of his clothes but you don’t care. You take his face in your hands, plunging back into a needy kiss. Chan’s hands wander on your back, on your hips, on the back of your neck. You can only lean into him. His tongue teases your lips and you open your mouth to let it in. It plays with yours, and you can feel walls tighten. 

By now you are fully making out, your hips grinding against his. You can feel him getting hard, and it sends your mind reeling. 

“God, you’re so perfect,” he moans around your lips.

“I’ve thought about this so often, Chan,” you admit.

“Same,” he grins. “I… Fuck, I can’t tell you this.” 

“Tell me,” you insist, trailing kisses alongside his jaw, on the delicate skin of his neck. It makes him shudder, and can almost feel his cock pulsating under you. 

“I thought about your lips,” he breathes out. “Your body. How you would sound moaning against me…” 

“Fuck, Channie…” 

You clench at his words, pressing your core on his erection. He grunts, his fingers slowly making their way under your shirt. You tug at his, and suddenly, like a flash of lightning, you realize what you are doing. Your heart skips a beat, and your mouth dries. Everything rushes back. You stop, and he does the same, leaning back. 

He looks more attractive than ever with his hair tousled by your fingers, his full lips red and wet from your kisses. 

“I’m sorry, I just -” 

“Is this going too fast?” he asks you gently. 

You hesitate. “It’s not that. I just - I don’t want to give the wrong impression.” 

Chan frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Like you’re just a rebound or something,” you shrug.

Chan smiles - that cheeky grin of his, his eyes sparkling at the same time. It toys with your heartstrings. How could anyone not adore this man? 

“I don’t care,” he answers. “I’ll be your rebound.” 

“Chan, I’m serious,” you sigh.

“So am I,” he says, twirling a strand of your hair around his index. “If it’s something you want, then I’m here. I want to. And it doesn’t have to mean anything tomorrow, or ever. We’ll always be friends.” 

You breathe out, briefly closing your eyes. All you want is to keep kissing him, to forget the world in his arms. To be desired, to be loved. 

It’s all you want.

But your heart still aches.

So much has happened tonight - you feel so heavy. 

You sigh again. “I just… Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

Chan cups your cheek. 

“It’s okay, love,” he says, placing a kiss on your forehead. “It’s all so fresh. I can leave if you -” 

“No,” you quickly interrupt him, pushing a finger against his plush lips. “Please. Stay with me.” 

Chan nods, his eyes not leaving yours. You should move. You should get going - get a glass of water, sleep it all off. But you can’t move, lost in Chan’s gaze, your body a bundle of nerves. You lean forward, settling your forehead against his. 

“It’s killing me,” you chuckle nervously. 

Chan giggles, and the sound is delightful. “We have time, love. I won’t let you go, now. I got you.” 

He places a soft kiss on your lips.

“If you’ll have me.” 

As an answer, you give him another kiss. You slide your fingers through his humid hair, inhaling his scent. 

“Will you sleep here tonight?” 

“I’m here, baby.” 

The word makes something melt inside of you. You shiver, and instinctively, he sprawls his warm hands on your back. 

You’re overwhelmed by the tenderness and the hurt. 

You feel so loved. 

So abandoned.

So alone.

So supported.  

So seen. 

Your lips find him again like a magnet. You kiss him deeper than before. You’re losing your mind. 

“Y/N,” he breathes in your mouth.

The words escape your lips. “Fuck it, I want you.” 

He groans, his fingers diving in your skin. His cock twitches under you, making you lose all sense. 

“I want this, Chan,” you sigh, biting his lip. “But I don’t - I don’t want you to think I’m using you, all right? You’re my friend, I care about you, I -” 

He laughs. “You can use me all you want.” 

He starts kissing you again, feverishly, as if it hasn’t just been a few seconds since he last did it. You arch your back, closing all distance between your bodies. Chan starts placing kisses down your neck, his tongue teasing your thin skin. 

“I’ll make you feel good, baby girl,” he whispers. “I’ll make you forget for a little while. Do you trust me?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s just you and me tonight. Let the rest fade away.” 

He puts his strong hands on your ass, and slowly moves it. You sway your hips, and the friction of his erection against you makes you moan softly. You plunge your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his shoulder blades. 

“Just you and me, yeah?” he whispers.

“Just you and me,” you nod. 

In a swift move he removes your shirt, groaning at the sight of your bralette. It’s made of a thin lacy material, so he can perfectly see your nipples, and immediately leans in to brush his lips against them. You shudder, your nails digging in the back of his neck. 

He removes your bra to gain access to your breasts, gently massaging them in his hands and sliding his tongue around them. Meanwhile, you caress his cock above his jeans, loving the way he tenses at your touch. 

“Hold on to me,” he tells you in a breath.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he lifts you up, only to gently lay you down on the couch so he’s on top of you. 

“Let me see you,” you breathe, grabbing his t-shirt. 

He obliges, removing the piece of clothing so you revel in the sight of his toned chest. You take off your sweatpants and stare as he removes his jeans as well, giving you a better sight of his athletic body. His boxers do nothing to hide his erection.

“Before this goes any further,” he says, and his voice sounds so raw it sends shivers down your spine. “Do you have -” 

“Bathroom,” you say with a nod. 

He smiles, bends to steal a kiss and disappears. You look up at the ceiling, suddenly very aware of your nakedness, of what you are about to do. 

It feels like you’ve been through ten days in one. 

This morning you woke up with dread. 

Now you are filled with hope. 

Is this going too fast? Should you wait? 

Maybe. 

You don’t want to. 

This feeling in your chest, that Chan helps surge, that threatens to burst - all this light, all this love. It’s been a while since you’ve felt that. From someone else, from yourself. 

So what if it’s too fast? You want to live. 

And if there’s a person you trust, it’s Chan. 

“Got it,” you hear him say as he reappears. 

You don’t really know what to say because you have all this love and light inside your chest and words would not feel enough, so you stay silent, only pull him back into a kiss. He lays on top of you, warm and a little unsteady. You can feel he’s a little nervous, just like you, but you don’t mind. You need his softness. You need his realness. 

You push his boxers down, feeling his cock touch your stomach. The sensation is enough to clear your mind, and you bite Chan’s lower lip a little. He answers with a slight chuckle. 

You want to tell him how crazy he makes you. How nice it is to feel him so warm and hard. How much this means to you. But for some reason, you can bring yourself to say anything, and neither does he. You just breathe together, febrile and eager. His fingers graze your wetness, and you shiver. Sensing your pleasure, Chan applies some pressure on your folds, leaning two fingers on your clit. You arch your back, moaning a little louder than you expected. Your hands reach for him, palming his cock, your own fingers brushing his tip. 

“Fuck,” Chan grunts. “Y/N…” 

“Channie, please,” you whisper. 

“Wait,” he answers. “I want to do something first, if this is my only chance.” 

You frown, opening your eyes as you feel him move. You quickly understand what he means, however, as his lips trace a path of wet kisses on your stomach and your thighs. Soon his breath is against your core, and you forget how to breathe. 

When his tongue touches you, it’s like a hundred sensations at once, and you can’t hold back a shaky moan. Your fingers grab the couch as Chan pushes your legs further apart. He kisses you, pressing his tongue into you, attentive to your reactions. 

“You’re gorgeous, you know?” he says, although you barely hear him. “Keep moaning for me, baby girl.” 

A surge of pleasure goes through your body, enveloping you in silk, and you grab Chan’s hair, instinctively pushing him against your clit as his tongue encloses it. 

“Fuck, fuck, Chan, I’m…” you whimper.

“Are you coming?” 

You nod, and he buries his nose in you, embracing your sensitive spots. Your orgasm makes your whole body tremble against him, and he holds your legs as you do, making sure to accompany you throughout. 

As you come down, slowly, you blink back into reality. You look at him a little timidly, realizing your fingers are still tangled in his hair. You place your palm against his head, caressing it tenderly.  

“I’m so sorry,” you mutter. “Did I hurt you?” 

“Not at all,” he chuckles. “It was beautiful.” 

You bite your lip and he moves so he can kiss you. Your taste is on his lips and his tongue and it’s making you a little dizzy. 

It’s been a while since you’ve felt as good as this. 

Not that the sex with San was bad - but it faded at the same time your love did. When you broke up you had not touched each other like that - barely kissed, even - for weeks.

Although you’re sensitive, you really want to make Chan feel good. You need him inside you, stretching you, making you whole. You align your legs so his cock falls between them, and you grind slowly. His breath hitches against your lips, and you take it as a hint he likes it. 

“You made me feel so good, Channie,” you tell him in between kisses. “I want to do the same for you.” 

“Fuck, you’re so warm,” he lets out. 

“I want you inside me,” you say. 

He nods fervently, puts on the condom he got from the bathroom and aligns himself with your entrance. You feel so relaxed and tense at the same time, tucked in his arms on the couch, the rest of the world faded away. He enters you slowly, letting you time to adjust to his size, and you breathe out slowly. 

He feels so different. He feels so right. You are a bundle of nerves he unmakes.

He thrusts his hips at a measured, exquisite pace. Each time he goes deeper, and you cry out in pleasure, your fingers digging in the skin of his muscled back. You feel the fever, you feel the want. He breathes heavily against your neck, holding you tight. 

“You okay?” he asks in a whisper. 

“Don’t stop,” you tell him, arching a little to facilitate his movements. 

Chan doesn’t stop. As he makes love to you - because it is what he is doing - you sense his thrusts getting a little more erratic. In the quiet of the living room you hear nothing but the sound of him plunging inside you, his cock smeared by your wetness, his breathing mingling with yours. It is so erotic, so loving, your second orgasm is building quickly and deliciously. 

Chan accelerates. You pant, moaning nonsense. 

“Come with me,” he breathes, and that is the last thing you need to come undone. 

It’s enthralling how your soul escapes you and yet stays right there, against Chan, around him, with him. As you clench around his cock, you hear a delightful moan escape his throat, rough and hoarse, and it keeps you right above the clouds with him as he comes inside of you. You feel him twitch before he relaxes slowly. 

His lips find your forehead and he plants the softest of kisses there. 

As you sink into the couch, he removes himself from you, and lays down on top of your body. You don’t mind the weight - in fact, it feels just right. His nose is in your neck, his breath tickling your sweat-covered skin. Your fingers slide in his hair, and you close your eyes. 

You give yourselves time to recover. As the high fades, you feel Chan’s breathing relax and get more steady. 

“Channie,” you whisper with a smile. “Don’t fall asleep.” 

“Hm?” he groans, lifting his head to look at you. 

With his hair all over the place, his small eyes and swollen lips, he looks ready to pass out. It elicits a large smile from you, and you tenderly caress his cheek. 

“Let’s get to bed,” you tell him. 

He nods. You stand up on shaky legs, and help him on his feet. Together you close the lights in the apartment, and then you take his hand to guide him towards the bathroom. You take the time to clean up and head to the bedroom. The lights are off except for the fairy lights hanging above your bed. Once you’re there, you open a drawer, take out a t-shirt that will fit him. 

You slip under the sheets, Chan next to you. He pulls you into his arms, and you put your head on his shoulder. 

The rain has slowed to a drizzle.

Who knows what the sky will look like tomorrow? 

For now you just want to sleep against Charm’s warmth.

“Get some rest, love,” he whispers to you. 

“Goodnight, Channie.” 

“Goodnight.”

Fluffy snow waltzes in the sky, sparse and light, catching onto tree branches and wool hats. You lift your eyes to observe the scene, admiring the blend of colors on the horizon. Distracted, you don’t notice the patch of ice ahead of you, and the sole of your boot slides on it, making you lose your balance. You let out a small cry, sure you are going to fall, but an arm catches you, holding you upright. 

“Careful, there,” Changbin chuckles. He pulls you closer to him, still holding your arm, making sure you won’t slip again. “Hold on to me.” 

You smile at him, wrapping your hand around his arm, squeezing his bicep at the same time - a small gesture you can rarely resist. 

“What would I do without you?” you ask a little playfully. 

He shakes his head in exasperation although he looks amused, and you carefully cross the rest of the parking lot. Inside the store, Christmas music is playing, and there is so much to see you get slightly overwhelmed. There are a lot of other customers browsing, looking for gifts, holding crumpled pieces of paper with lists scribbled on them. You find Christmas shopping both delightful and torturous, but doing it with Changbin lessens the blow a lot. 

You look at him as you wander around the store, with his open black parka, curly hair and faded jeans. He looks like a dream, like the kind of guy you would fall in love with at first sight, like the definition of boyfriend material. Your heart skips a beat as you remind yourself, he is your boyfriend, your dream, your best friend’s brother, your best mistake, your Binnie. 

He notices you staring, of course. 

“What?” he asks with an amused smirk. 

You take both sides of his parka, pull him down for a quick kiss. “Just thinking to myself how cute you look.” 

“You’re definitely the cutest,” he says, his eyes settled in yours, glimmering with tenderness. He bounces his index on your nose with a chuckle. “But you have to focus. We have to find Lix a good gift.” 

You nod, turning to the tables and shelves around you. “This should be easy, right? I mean, you’re his brother, I’m his best friend…”  

Despite your words, you let out a sigh, your shoulders falling back. 

“But gosh, I can’t come up with any ideas.” 

“That’s fine, baby,” he says, putting a kiss to your temple. “That’s why we’re here. We’ll find some inspiration.” 

Glancing at him, you take a deep breath, and start to look more seriously at the products. Everything seems like both a terrible and wonderful idea, and after a good thirty minutes of roaming around the store, you still haven’t settled on something. 

A recipe book? He’d just glare at Changbin and tell him, if I want good food, I’ll just ask you. His favorite Christmas movie? Everything’s on streaming services and you’re not sure Felix would even have something to play it. A new edition of his favorite book? You can’t know for sure what he has, and what he doesn’t. 

Getting a little tired of the people and overthinking, you eventually burst out laughing when you come across a big plushie in the shape of a cat sipping a coffee mug. You hold it up to show Changbin who arches an eyebrow at you. 

“Really?” 

“Oh, come on, he would love it. I bet he would even sleep with it.” 

“Hm…” 

You pout, showing the plushie’s big, shiny eyes. “But look. It’s so cute. It even has little paws and everything.” 

“Maybe we should just keep our idea of getting him new earphones. I know you wanted something a little more fun, but he does need them.” 

You sigh, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. But we could also buy the plushie? Then it’s both fun and practical.” 

Changbin chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Yeah, fine. Sounds good to me.” 

You head towards the register with a triumphant smile. The line is awfully long, but it doesn’t feel that way next to Changbin. You play with the plushie, not caring at all at looking silly. Changbin and you whisper in hushed tones, naming the plushie Bookie and discussing what food you’ll bring to Felix’s dinner. 

You received the invitation about a week ago. Felix had decided to host a Christmas dinner at his place with just you, Changbin, and his girlfriend. They have been going out for a while, and Felix was extremely excited to spend a first Christmas with her and wanted it to be memorable. You were going to spend Christmas Eve with the Seos, but a dinner with just the four of you, to drink good wine and play board games, sounded wonderful. 

“They said they’d take care of the main course and the wine,” Changbin tells you. “So I suggested doing appetizers and dessert.” 

“Do you know what you’ll do?” you ask him, sliding an arm around his waist, settling your head on his shoulder. 

“Probably my kimchi dumplings, they’re Lix’s favorite. But there’s a mini quiche recipe I want to try with sautéed schrimps, it -” 

“I’m sold,” you laugh. “What about a Baba au Rhum for dessert?” 

Changbin grins at you. “Yeah?” 

“Or a Paris Brest?” 

“Ooh, nice.” 

“Black forest cake?” 

“Are you giving ideas or just listing desserts you like?”  

“Both,” you laugh. “I’ll be happy no matter what. You know I can eat anything you make. So does Lix.” 

Changbin suddenly frowns, looking down at his feet. “What if his girlfriend thinks I’m a bad cook?” 

“Bin,” you say, shaking your head. “You’re a professional chef who works at a very successful restaurant, whose menu you created from nothing. And you still improve it every day. Of course she’s going to like what you cook.” 

Changbin gives you a little pout, fidgeting like a child in your arms. “Aw. You really think I’m that good?” 

“Even better than that,” you say, giving him a kiss. 

You finally reach the register, pay for the plushie, and then head inside the mall to get Felix the rest of his gift. There’s a lot of people everywhere, but Changbin holds on to you tight, never letting you go. If his hand isn’t secured in yours, it’s placed on your back or around your arm. His presence is comforting, his smiles and glances enough to make your heart flutter each time. 

You are so in love with him, and it doesn’t hurt anymore. 

When you finally get home a few hours later, your bellies full of a spontaneous trip to McDonalds, you put on some good music and wrap Felix’s gift. You also got something for his girlfriend, who, you’ve heard, dearly loves to draw. 

You’ve moved into Changbin’s apartment months ago, but you are looking for a new place together. Somewhere closer to Chan’s restaurant, with a little more space, perhaps a beautiful view of the city. After New Year’s you’ll get on it more seriously, but for now you’re trying to juggle the holidays, work, and life as the owners of a new cat. Neither of you were sure at first, because you already had Samara, but Minho had rescued a stray that had a litter, and you couldn’t say no to adopting one. Jisung got one as well, and keeps trying to find a way to organize what he calls “family reunions” for the kitties.

You were worried that Samara wouldn’t like the new kitten, who you named Blueberry, but she adopted him like it was her own. The four of you lead a good life. Never perfect, of course - but you are together. 

Once the gifts are ready, you go and take a shower while Changbin prepares cups of tea. When you come back to the living room, wearing an old band t-shirt of his and pajama shorts, Changbin is standing in front of the wall, staring at the painting. 

You smile tenderly, approach him slowly, and put your head on his shoulder. 

“I still can’t believe you did that,” he tells you. 

“You’re one to talk,” you say. 

He spins you around, pulling you into a kiss. You lean into his arms, inhaling his familiar scent, dancing with his plump lips. His fingers slide into your wet hair, holding your head so he can kiss you deeper, and you whimper softly against his mouth. 

You kiss in front of the painting of the maple tree.

Months ago, you and Changbin were taking a walk in the park, and you saw that the maple tree had been cut down. Half of the park would be replaced by an apartment building. You were devastated, but you didn’t hold on to resentment or rage.

Instead, you called Hyunjin and asked if he could make a commission for you. You wanted to offer something special to Changbin for Christmas, something significant. You couldn’t bring the maple tree to him, not really, but Hyunjin could. There was no one else you could trust to do it - no one could resurrect it like this. A burst of vivid colors, oranges, yellows, reds, browns, all brushed and stroked magnificently against a delicate blue sky. It was like you could hear the wind blowing in the leaves, making them shiver, like you could hear the tree dancing, like you were standing there, right next to it, reminding you of your worst and your best, of the then and the now - and of the future. 

Hyunjin painted the maple tree back to life. 

A few days ago, Hyunjin called to say the painting was ready. You went to his studio after work and cried a lot when you saw it. Hyunjin held your hand for a long time.

That night you gave it to Changbin as an early present. 

Everyday since, you kiss him in front of it. 

You are standing close to him, your lips embracing each other’s, and it’s like you could disappear in his arms. But as you feel your passion take control, something grazes your leg, making you look down. 

Your cat is walking in circles around your legs. 

“Kitty? What’s up?” you ask, as Changbin kisses your forehead. 

As an answer, the cat meows loudly. You laugh and arch an eyebrow. “Jealous, much? Well, I don’t blame you. He’s a very good kisser.” 

Changbin laughs against you, his chest vibrating, and you snuggle in his arms. 

“I love you, Binnie.” 

“I love you.”

Changbin steps inside the bedroom and stops, eyes wide. You glance at him, securing your earring, and smile nervously. 

“You all right there, Binnie?” 

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

You look down at your dress. It’s a black velvet dress that hugs your body, with an off shoulder neckline. You bought it a few weeks ago in a thrift shop and you haven’t been feeling confident about it - until now. Because although he isn’t, Changbin is positively drooling. 

“Is something wrong with my dress?” you tease him. 

He shakes his head, sliding his hand on your waist, looking up and down at you. He gulps. 

“You look fucking gorgeous, baby.” 

You chuckle, giving him a kiss as a thanks. “You look dashing too, Bin.” 

He’s wearing a fitted blue shirt tucked in black pants, a silver chain around his neck. His hair has been growing a little, and he often lets it curl, which you adore. 

“Damn,” he chuckles, pulling your body closer to his. “It’s going to be hard to focus tonight.” 

You gently slap his chest, your cheeks reddening a little. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to Changbin’s praise, but you’ve grown to accept it a little more. 

“Please do,” you tell him. “Don’t burn the food, or Lix will be mad.”

You kiss him, ruffling his hair a little, and lean towards his ear. 

“You can take the dress off me when we come back home.” 

Changbin lets out a frustrated groan, biting his lip as you step back, putting on your second earring. 

“You will be the death of me,” he sighs dramatically, sitting on your bed to put on his shoes. You do the same, smiling cheekily at him. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed this shirt situation,” you tell him, pointing at his chest. “This is very form-hugging, Mr. Seo.” 

He grins and points a finger at you. “If I have to behave, so do you.” 

You fake a shocked expression. “Me, misbehave? I would never.” 

The banter lasts until you leave the apartment and get in your car, which you and Changbin bought from your cousin. You reach Felix’s place in just a few minutes, and gasp at the decoration he has put up all around his apartment. The fairy lights and snowflakes garlands look beautiful, making the place look like a Christmas wonderland. His girlfriend welcomes you timidly but happily, and the atmosphere is light and fun. 

Changbin and her quickly head to the kitchen to prepare the food, and you stay with Felix, already sipping your glasses of wine. Your best friend shines with his newly cut hair, white shirt and black tie. His smile is as broad as usual, but it shimmers even more since he’s been with his girlfriend. They truly make each other happy, you can feel it - and you are so grateful for it. 

You’re looking at the Christmas tree, which is decorated with a variety of small ornaments. When you see a familiar one, you burst out laughing. 

“Don’t tell me you really kept this,” you tell Felix, pointing it out. 

It was the cap of a beer bottle that dated all the way back to one of your first college parties. You and Felix had gone together in the hopes of making friends, but you had ended up just talking to each other all night, decorating the cap with a permanent marker. You still remembered that night vividly - you and Felix had talked so much your voice hurt the next day. 

“Of course I kept it,” Felix chuckles. “It’s like our friendship token.” 

“Is that really a thing?” 

Felix shakes his head. “I refuse to believe you don’t hoard stuff like that somewhere too.” 

You chuckle. “All right, maybe I do.” 

You glance at your best friend, nudging him playfully. 

“So, did you ask her?” 

Felix lets out a sigh, but he nods, and you squeal excitedly. 

“What did she say?” 

He smiles and lets out a small giggle that warms your heart. “She said she’d love to go.” 

You laugh triumphantly, pulling Felix into a hug. He had been a little anxious at the idea of inviting his girlfriend for a weekend away together - there was this hotel out of the city he wanted to try, so they could relax, get massages, and walk around the forest. It sounded wonderful, but he had been scared to ask. Felix took each new step of his relationship carefully, a little worried that each would be too much. It was a process, to learn that she was more than willing to accept all the love he had to give - and that she gave back exactly the same amount. 

“I told you she’d say yes.” 

Felix opens his mouth to answer but suddenly stops. He loses his smile, grabs your wrist and pulls your hand up to his face, staring at your fingers. 

“What the fuck is that,” he stammers.

You blush.

Was about time you noticed, Lix. 

“It’s a ring.” 

“I can see it’s a ring,” Felix says, his voice several decibels higher than usual. “But is it a - a - that - like a - that kind of ring?” 

You bite your lip, staring at your best friend until he meets your eyes. He gasps loudly, dropping your hand, pulling his fingers in his hair, on each side of his head. He takes a step back, mouth open. 

“You’re joking. You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking. This can’t be real.” 

“I’m not,” you say softly. “Bin asked me the night I gave him the painting.”  

Felix’s eyes are filled with tears. Your own heart threatens to burst. You stare at each other for a few seconds before Felix runs into your arms. You both burst out crying, not caring about being quiet or reasonable. Your best friend’s warmth is comforting, and feeling him sob against you makes the whole situation so real you almost can’t breathe. 

When you showed Changbin the painting, he stared at it for minutes without saying anything. You could see his eyes traveling over every inch, taking in every shade of color, every detail. He blinked and tears trailed down his cheeks, although he still didn’t move. You were nervous he wouldn’t like it, but really, why were you? This painting was the both of you. And when Changbin finally turned towards you, eyes filled with tears, he asked you, in a whisper, I want to marry you. 

You cried a lot. You nodded a lot. You kissed him a lot. 

The next day you got rings. 

In a few months he’ll be your husband. 

Undoubtedly alarmed by the sound of you and Felix wailing, the latter’s girlfriend and Changbin run to the living room. After a second of astonishment, Changbin bursts out laughing. 

“Oh, Lixie, did she tell you, then?” 

Felix glares at him, his eyes already puffing up, his cheeks wet with tears. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, you stole my best friend!” 

“What - I did not steal your -” 

Felix interrupts him with another gasp. “Y/N, you know what that means, right? You’ll be my sister in law, holy SHIT -” 

Felix’s girlfriend seems to understand and pats his hair gently, smiling widely. 

“Congratulations, you two.” 

“Thank you,” you laugh, wiping your eyes. 

Changbin places a kiss on your head, and you and Felix go back into each other’s arms, letting the tears fall. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Felix whispers in your ear. “I love you both so much.” 

“We love you, Lix,” you breathe. “Thank you for bringing us together.” 

As Felix holds you tight, you open your eyes to see Changbin, standing in the middle of the dazzling lights, smiling affectionately. You hear the soft cries of your best friend, the music playing softly on the speakers. You smell the homemade food waiting for you in the kitchen. Outside, the snow keeps falling, and you’re breathing.

I hope this very small one shot could bring a smile this holiday season. I appreciate and love each and every one of you. Thank you for reading me, thank you for sending me your thoughts, thank you for being so kind. It takes a lot to be these days, so please know how strong and beautiful you are.

A very very special thank you to @sstarryreads for creating two very beautiful playlists for Binnie and Felix. I am so grateful for them and they encompass the series beautifully. Please give them a listen here and here ♡

Do not worry. I do plan on writing a one shot about Felix once I get the right ideas and the mindset to do so. I want to make sure it honors him (he is the best of us all). In the meanwhile I hope you like this! Merry Christmas if you celebrate, if not, please accept a big virtual hug. Take care ❤️

• series taglist (minus permanent): @bitchoftomorrow​ ; @hyuneater-recs​  ; @ipegchangbin​ ; @valreadsfics​ ; @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream​

The automated voice of your GPS announces you’ve reached your destination. You step on the breaks and frown at the screen of your phone, attached to the dashboard. No, this can’t be it. You’re at a cul de sac. There is no house here. No other cars. Just trees and snow and an empty road. This can’t be your destination. 

“Fuck’s sake, fuck me,” you hiss between your teeth. 

You try to enter the address you’ve been given away, but it gives no new results. Apparently you are there. Did Jisung give you the wrong address? You wouldn’t put it past him. You sigh deeply, rubbing your temples. What are you supposed to do now? The roads are a little icy, it’s getting dark, and you have no desire to drive around in the middle of nowhere trying to find this mysterious house. 

You take your phone from the holder and call your cousin. After a few rings, a familiar voice answers - it’s not Jisung, but Felix. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Hey, where are you?” 

“In the middle of fucking nowhere!” you cry out. “Are you sure Ji gave me the right address?” 

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“Tell me what?” 

“The GPS will only take you so far. He didn’t say anything about turning right and following the side road?”

You sigh deeply, pushing two fingers against your upper nose. In your ear, Felix lets out a chuckle. 

“I guess he didn’t,” he says. “Ok, listen.” 

He gives you a few more directions, which you try your best to remember, and you tell him you’ll be there in a few minutes - and if you’re not, that he calls you back because you’ve probably gotten lost in the woods. 

You put down your phone and accelerate slowly, making your way through the woods. The side road is mostly clear of snow, luckily, and when you spot a lighted house in between the trees, you sigh in relief. A few cars are parked there, and you can hear faint music coming from inside. 

Once you’re parked, you grab your bags from the trunk and make your way to the front door. The place is bigger than you imagined, looking modern and expensive. It’s apparently the home of a friend of Felix’s who is away on vacation for the winter and agreed that Lix hosted his party there. The whole thing had been Jisung’s idea, who wanted to make this New Year particularly memorable after a difficult year. He wanted all his friends in one place, and of course Felix had to make it dramatic and host a party of more than twenty people in a house that isn’t even his. 

Jisung and Felix, your cousins, are also twins. You grew up together. Your mother raised you on her own, had to work a lot, and so she ended up entrusting her sister to watch over you. This resulted in you spending way too much time with your cousins, the incarnations of chaos. 

A few seconds after you knock the door opens on Jisung, and he opens his arms wide for a hug but instead you gently slap the back of his head. 

“Oi, what the hell?!” he whines. 

“Forgot to tell me about the side road,” you say, still pulling him into an affectionate hug. 

“Oh, right… Sorry about that,” he chuckles. 

“I nearly got lost in the woods,” you cry out dramatically. “I could’ve frozen to death. I could’ve been eaten by a bear.”

As Jisung continues to apologize, you keep doubling down on the worst possible scenarios that could have happened. It’s certainly one aspect of your character that developed by hanging out with Jisung and Felix - a flair for the dramatic. 

A few people have already arrived for the party. Some of them you know, some you don’t - Jisung makes sure to introduce you and tells you where to put your bags. The house is big, but not that big, and all of you will have to share the different rooms with a few others. You don’t mind, it’s just for one night, and you’ve had enough sleepovers with your cousins to be comfortable sleeping in the same room as them. That’s if all of you even make it to the rooms - you can already bet people will be falling asleep all over the house in the early hours of the morning. 

You meet Felix in the kitchen, giving him a tight hug, admiring the blue highlights he’s had made in his dark hair, and start to help him get some food ready. 

On the speakers is a dynamic playlist, and you hum to the music, cutting pieces of smoked salmon to make rolls. Felix dances with you, his booming laugh filling your chest with warmth. 

A few more guests come in, a few passing in the kitchen, which you welcome with broad grins. As you are putting colorful cupcakes on a platter, the door opens and a familiar voice reaches your ears. You’d recognize that shrill laugh anywhere. You glare at Felix, who is carefully avoiding your gaze.

“You invited Daki?!” you hiss, squinting your eyes. 

Felix pinches his lips, trying to hold off laughter. “She invited herself, you know how she is. Besides she’s also our cousin, it would’ve been awkward to say no.”

“She’s not my cousin. You’re just too nice,” you groan. “I’m not going to be.” 

“Don’t be petty.” 

“Felix, she’s been mad at me ever since Hyunjin chose me to be a part of his team for that board game. And we were eight years old. I’m not petty, she is.” 

You exchange a knowing look, Felix letting out a sigh. 

“Speaking of Hyunjin, is he coming?” you ask. 

“Yes, but later,” Felix tells you. “After he gets off work.” 

“Fashionably late, as always.” 

Hyunjin was your cousin’s neighbor when you were young, and he ended up spending a lot of time with you. So did Daki, for that matter. She was Jisung and Felix’s cousin from their father’s side, and your nemesis since that fateful board game many years ago. She had a crush on Hyunjin at the time - well, she still does - and when he had chosen you to be his partner instead of hers, she had looked at you like it was your fault. You still remember her telling you, some time later, that you did it to steal him away from her. 

You had laughed because you had never been interested in Hyunjin that way, and somehow that made it worse. Ever since, everytime you met, Daki made it her job to provoke you, flirting with your boyfriends, making sure to eliminate you from games, that kind of thing. At first you fought back, but you had gotten tired. At this point, you just found it ridiculous. 

When she comes into the kitchen to put the drinks she brought in the fridge, she is closely followed by Jisung who is already giggling. When he sees your face he bursts out laughing, running away as you slowly turn the knife in your hands. 

“Hi Daki!” you say, giving her your fakest smile.

She gives you a similar one. “Y/N, it’s been so long!” 

Fortunately she does not acknowledge you more than that and you turn away, grimacing, leaving Felix to take care of her. Instead you chase your other cousin down to give him another slap behind the head, and you steal his beer for good measure. You’re not going to let this ruin your evening. 

Jisung throws an arm around your shoulder, his grin taking half of his face. You sit down on the stairs, sipping his beer, looking around, while Jisung answers a message on his phone. People are spread around the room - a few are chatting around the fireplace, others are already busy playing a card game. On the couch next to the fireplace, a bit further away, is a gorgeous looking girl with long chestnut hair, Yuna, who your cousin has a crush on, talking with a guy with wide shoulders. You don’t know either of them, but you find yourself staring at the guy in question. 

Dark hair, almost black, unevenly brushes his forehead. Glistening eyes of deep brown, plump lips in the shape of a heart that are slightly pouted. He wears silver jewelry, a simple chain around his neck, two small hoops on his ear, a bracelet that moves as he explains something. On his shoulders, a fitted beige sweater that hints at an impressively muscled chest, tucked at the waist in a pair of black pants. You eye him up and down, all the way to his elegant leather shoes. 

His sleeves are rolled up a little, his smirk leans on the left side of his face, and from where you sit you can hear the hints of a rough, loud voice.

You slap Jisung’s shoulder, getting his attention. 

“Who is that?” you ask him, nodding towards the stranger. 

Jisung follows your gaze. “Oh, you haven’t met Changbin?” 

Changbin. That’s his name. It suits him.

You glare at Jisung. “No, but I want to.” 

Your cousin lets out an amused laugh. “We work together. He’s the one that came up with the concept I told you about?” 

“Really?” you say, unable to hide the interest in your voice. 

“Keep your panties on, please. But don’t worry, your favorite cousin will introduce you. It’ll give me an excuse to flirt with Yuna.” 

You roll your eyes at the “favorite cousin” appellation - he and Felix have been at it since you were old enough to understand the concept - but give him a thankful nod. You follow Jisung, who taps Changbin’s shoulder when you get close enough. Both him and Yuna look up. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jisung says cheerfully. “Bin, I wanted to introduce you to Y/N, my cousin.” 

Changbin glances at you with a smile, turning on the couch to get a better look at you. You wave at him with your most charming smile. It wouldn’t be much of a party if you didn’t get to flirt a little, right? 

“Oh, the infamous cousin,” Changbin chuckles. “I actually heard a lot about you. But then again, Ji talks a lot.” 

You laugh, ignoring Jisung’s complaints beside you. “It’s nice to meet you. I actually heard about you, too. I love that city lights concept you came up with.” 

Changbin’s face lights up, and you feel your heart flutter a little. You can’t help it - he’s incredibly charming, his smile even more. Jisung clears his throat next to you as you stare at Changbin, and him at you. 

“Hey, Yuna, want to get a drink?” 

The latter chuckles, nodding at Jisung. “Let’s go.” 

They walk away, and you point to the spot on the couch next to Changbin. “Can I sit down?” 

“Please,” he says. 

You sit, unable to stop looking at him. Of course Jisung would not have mentioned how hot his colleague was to you, but he is exactly your type and your cousin knows that. He’ll have to get another slap behind the head for that. 

“So you grew up with Ji, huh?” Changbin asks, leaning back on the couch. 

You nod. “Yup, him and Felix. My mom worked a lot, so my aunt watched over me.” 

“That must’ve been… exhausting,” Changbin chuckles. 

“I’m not that much better than them, to be honest,” you laugh. “Sometimes I might even be worse.” 

Amusement flashes in Changbin’s eyes. “I’m sensing good stories here.” 

You smile, unabashedly flirting. “You want one?” 

“Please.” 

So you tell him about the time the three built a fort when you were about ten and you had designated yourself main architect. You had made them build the whole thing, and then had pretended to throw a fit and destroyed everything. You played the same game two more times until you were “satisfied,” leaving your cousins frustrated and exhausted. 

Changbin listens attentively to you throughout, laughing, and you quickly grow fond of the sound. It’s playful, makes you laugh even more, and you get so immersed in your conversation you almost forget about the rest of the party. 

You notice a little scar on his chin. A beauty mark on his right ear. 

You talk for a while, sitting close to each other, when Felix appears from the kitchen and asks for your help. You apologize to Changbin, who tells you to go. 

“We’ll talk later,” he tells you with a wink. 

When you head to the kitchen, your legs feel a little wobbly. You’ve been smiling so much your cheeks hurt a little. 

You help Felix bring the food to the big table, which is set like a buffet. When you catch a glance of Changbin staring at you, you almost drop all the plates in your hands, because he is looking up and down at your body almost hungrily. If you were the type to blush, you would be scarlet right now. 

But you’re not. Instead, you have to refrain yourself from just walking over to him, dragging him over to the nearest room and making out until you can’t breathe. Your thoughts derail as you walk back to the kitchen. 

It’s been forever since you’ve felt such an instant attraction with someone. It has happened before, with one of your exes, a colleague at work. But like this? You aren’t sure but it might have never been this strong. All you want is to look back at him. See that lust in his eyes again. Know everything about him. You feel like you could run away to the other side of the world in this instant, take the biggest risks, a leap into the unknown, and he’d be holding your hand, laughing with you.  

What if you did drag him to a private spot? What would he say? Would he kiss you back, slide his fingers under your blouse? You would feel his muscles against your hands, bite into his full lips, push him inside you…

“You all right, cuz?” 

You look at Felix, who is frowning. 

“You looked really out of it just now,” he says. 

You bite your lip. “I’m fine, don’t worry,” you answer, although you can’t stay impassive.  

Felix’s mouth breaks into a grin.

“What were you thinking about, huh?” he giggles. “Or rather, who were you thinking about?” 

You nudge him, smirking to yourself. 

“Leave my dirty thoughts alone,” you tell him. 

He gasps. “So there IS someone… Tell me, tell me, please.” 

“No way,” you laugh. “If I tell you, next time you talk to him you won’t be able to stop giggling. I love you, Lix, but you’re the worst at keeping secrets.” 

He pouts, gathering forks to put on the table. 

“If you tell me your secret, I’ll tell you mine.” 

“What?!” you say. “You have a secret?” 

“I do.” 

“What is it?” 

“Only if you tell me who you were thinking of.” 

You squint your eyes, trying to decide if your cousin is making all of this up just to get the name out of you. It just isn’t Felix’s style, but you never know. As you’re trying to make up your mind, Jisung appears, sliding in the space between you.   

“What are we whispering about?” 

“Y/N was just going to tell me who she’s daydreaming fucking the brains out of,” Felix says with a sleazy smile. 

“Oh, Changbin?” Jisung says. 

You give him a furious look as Felix bursts out laughing. “JI, FUCK’S SAKE…” 

“Oops,” Jisung chuckles, putting a hand over his mouth. 

You slap his arm repeatedly, pouting. “Now I’ll never know Felix’s secret.” 

“What secret? That he hooked up with theatre guy?” 

“JISUNG,” Felix yells. 

It’s your turn to laugh hysterically, shaking your head. Eventually the three of you are snickering like you’re twelve again and looking up porn on the internet - you just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. 

“Never mind what I said, Lix,” you say, wiping tears from your eyes. “Ji is definitely the worst at keeping secrets.”

You’re eating too much, you’re drinking too much, you’re laughing too much - but is there such a thing as too much when it comes to those? It’s what parties are all about to you, anyway. 

Another thing you’re doing too much is flirting. You’ve always enjoyed it and clearly, so does Changbin, because like other things, you indulge in it a little too much.

There’s really no other way to say it - Changbin and you have been eyefucking each other since you met. Sitting beside one another, or being on opposite sides of the room, it seems like your eyes have constantly drawn to the other’s. At one point you thought he would be the one to take your hand and drag you away from the crowd, but neither of you have made a move yet. There has been some hand brushing, a few suggestive looks, even a seductive eyebrow raise or two. You gather that both of you are enjoying the tension that is rising, the what if that is surely turning into a when, waiting for the right opportunity. 

That has made an already wonderful evening even better. The food is delicious, the booze is plentiful, and Daki has barely bothered you so far, too busy glancing at the door, clearly waiting for Hyunjin to show up. She’s made you a few snarky comments but you can’t be bothered by them when Changbin stretches his arms, flexing his biceps a little, his shirt embracing his pectoral muscles. You’d rather focus on that.

Music is playing loudly, people are getting decidedly drunk, midnight is approaching, and you agree to play a game of poker with your cousins, Yuna, Changbin and a few others. Daki joins you seconds before the game starts, sitting next to Changbin. You can guess she’s noticed you and him flirting, and that she will try and get his attention to annoy you. Too predictable, Daki. She’s probably bored because Hyunjin isn’t here yet and she can’t annoy him. 

You are right, of course. You haven’t been playing for two minutes and she’s already whispering things in Changbin’s ear. However, the latter isn’t responding to her at all - he even shoots her annoyed glances, which makes you snicker. You try to focus on your own game, but it’s too entertaining to see Changbin repeatedly shooting down her attempts to flirt. When she giggles hysterically, leaning against him, Changbin directly takes her hand and puts it away from him, giving her a look that clearly says leave me alone. 

You bite your lip so hard it almost bleeds, trying not to burst out laughing. You’re not petty, but this is almost better than sex.

As you end the first round, Daki finally seems to give up on Changbin. You hope she will just go away, but of course she stays for another round and changes her target - you. 

When you make a raise, she laughs mockingly. 

“I think Y/N has good cards, guys,” she says. “Look at her face, it’s just so obvious.” 

You ignore her, keeping a straight face, but of course that only makes her laugh harder, and she points at you. 

“Aw, look, she’s trying to bluff. That’s cute, Y/N, really.” 

You keep ignoring her - her words aren’t getting to you. You notice that Changbin, however, is getting angry. He scrunches his nose, tilting his head to the side, as if he’s trying to stop himself from telling her to shut up. You try to smile at him to reassure him, but he’s too busy damning her to hell with his eyes. 

As if he wasn’t already so damn attractive. 

Daki continues taunting you, inciting the others to ruin your game, but except for those who don’t know you, none of them are having it. The atmosphere is tense. You will thank them later - for the moment, you focus on playing, because you have a plan and it is working perfectly. 

It ends up between you and Daki, of course, as you planned. You stare at her as she reveals her cards. A flush. 

“Not bad,” you say. 

“I’m so good at poker, Y/N, don’t worry!” she laughs.

“Yeah, like, I don’t know,” you say, putting on a fake confused expression as you put down your cards. “Isn’t this better?” 

Everyone looks at your cards. You have a flush, too - except it’s a straight one. The tension evaporates as the table erupts in screams and applause, and you finally break into a grin. Felix and Jisung jump on you, making you fall backwards, while Yuna gets a bottle of whisky to pour a few shots. You just get a glimpse at Daki’s defeated face, not giving her your attention. Instead you focus on Changbin’s shining eyes and amused smirk. 

You raise your shot glass to him. 

Hyunjin arrives not long after, holding the hand of his new girlfriend. She has red hair and the most beautiful smile. As you hug your old friend, you take a look at Daki, who looks like she’s just been slapped. Karma’s a bitch, huh?

You can’t help but snicker. That might be a little petty, but you’ve been drinking and you don’t care. Daki’s hurt your feelings more times than you can count in the past, and you feel like her having a shitty evening barely grazes the idea of payback. Unluckily, she catches you laughing and heads towards you, fists clenched, eyes full of rage. 

“What are you laughing at, you fucking bitch?” she spits at you.

You raise your hands. “Woah, calm down, will you?” 

“You think I’m pathetic?” she chuckles mockingly. “Have you seen yourself acting like a fucking slut all night? You think that guy’s going to be interested in you? You’re just a skank and everybody knows -” 

“What the fuck’s your problem?” 

You and Daki turn your heads towards Changbin, who has appeared next to you. His jaw is clenched, and he’s looking down at Daki with disgust. 

Daki scoffs. “This is none of your -” 

“Leave her alone,” Changbin interrupts in a dry voice. 

“I’m not going to -”

“Fuck off.” 

His voice is so commanding that Daki pales a little. She straightens her back, shoots you a last malicious look and walks away. You breathe out, shaking your head. 

“Fuck,” you sigh. “I thought she was going to hit me for a second there.” 

Changbin shakes his head, giving Daki a dirty look. 

“You guys have history or something?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “A long one.” 

He gives you a nod, sensing you do not want to talk about it too much. Instead you smile at him, sliding a hand through your hair. 

“Thanks for the intervention. I appreciate it. I’m too drunk to be the bigger person, so it would have ended badly.” 

He smirks, leaning towards you. You get a whiff of his cologne and it makes you a little dizzy. Fuck, he smells good. 

“I have an idea,” he breathes in your ear. 

You frown, giving him a questioning look. He raises an eyebrow. 

“On how you can pay me back.” 

The words send your thoughts reeling. Oh, fuck. Is he finally going to do it? Take your hand and lead you to an empty room to ruin you? You hope so. You so desperately hope so. 

Are you a little too horny? 

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice a little weak. 

“Follow me.” 

He takes your hand and guides you through the room. Your heart is pounding, your eyes fixed on the back of his neck. Is this happening? It’s going too fast and not nearly fast enough. Your mouth is dry, your legs weak, and -

Changbin goes to the kitchen. You frown when he stops at the counter, looking at the numerous bottles of strong alcohol that are stored there, carefully choosing one. You’re confused - but clearly, you misread his intentions. 

He shows you the bottle of tequila rose, and you chuckle. 

“You want me to take a shot?” you suggest. 

He grins. “Jisung came to work one morning with the worst hangover I’d ever seen. Said it was the fault of homemade shots with tequila rose in them. Made by you. I don’t know why, it stuck in my head, and I’d like to try one.” 

“Oh,” you laugh. “You mean the Hot Lips.” 

You don’t miss Changbin glancing at your mouth, looking perfectly satisfied with the turn of events. “Is that what they are called?” 

“It is,” you answer, taking the bottle from his hands. “Give me that. You’re not ready for this. Your liver will hate you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.” 

You get busy gathering the ingredients while Changbin gets the shot glasses, and you talk about that infamous night with your cousins. You, Felix and Jisung had gotten so ridiculously drunk on your shots you had gone outside in the freezing winter to build a snowman at three in the morning wearing no shoes. You were horribly sick for nearly a week after that. 

Changbin stays close to you as you pour the right ounces of the ingredients. Tequila rose. Grenadine. Soda. A little vodka. A little whisky. And a little surprise of your own. 

“Just a little bit of lemon to soften the sweetness,” you whisper to Changbin, giving him a wink. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

He’s standing so close to you you can feel his breathing in your hair. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” 

You turn to face him, keeping your eyes in his. You hand him his shot, filled to the brim, and take yours. 

“See you on the other side,” you tell him. 

You cheer and take the shot. The taste is almost overwhelming in your throat, and you let out a sharp woo. Glancing at Changbin, you realize he’s closed his eyes. He shakes his head and groans. 

“Damn, fuck, that is strong,” he laughs. 

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh too much, but his eyes are glimmering with mischief. He puts down the shot glass, licking his lips slowly. His eyes find yours again, and he takes another step towards you. You’re just drunk enough for your inhibitions to have disappeared. Changbin smells good. Changbin looks good. 

“Delicious, though,” he states, staring at you intently. “Just the right amount of sweet. Just the right amount of rough.”

You swallow, mouth parted. You’re not even sure what he is talking about, at this point.

“I can see why it’s addictive,” he smirks. “Can I have another?” 

“As many as you want, baby.” 

The nickname escapes your lips but he doesn’t seem to mind it. On the contrary, his smirk deepens and you feel the warmth pooling between your legs. You must already be soaked at this point. Fuck, there’s no one in the room. What if I sucked his dick in the kitchen? Would he like that? 

You chuckle to yourself, and Changbin looks at you questioningly. 

“I was just thinking about sucking your dick,” you say. 

Changbin remains silent, and you realize that you’ve actually said this. Out loud. 

You gasp, your eyes wide. You stammer. “Holy fuck, I’m sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, it just -” 

“Why don’t you?” he interrupts, his voice low and husky, placing his fingers underneath your chin to lift your head. You meet his gaze, dark and lustful. “I wouldn’t mind you sucking my dick right now. I bet you’d look even more sweet with your mouth full.” 

You gulp, feeling your walls clench at the sound of his words. Fuck, you need this man to ruin you right now. You’re dizzy with arousal, and he gently takes your hand, guides it on his crotch. He places your palm around his hardening cock, and you can’t hold back a whimper. 

“You’re not going to leave me with this unattended, are you, baby?” 

Instinctively, your hand squeezes his cock, and you smile. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” 

Outside the kitchen you hear people bursting into laughter. The risk of someone walking in is so dangerously high it makes you dizzy, but you’re a little too drunk to care. And honestly, it makes the whole situation even better. 

Keeping your eyes in his, you unzip his pants, taking out his cock. It’s decidedly hard now, which makes you very happy. You kneel on the cold floor, looking up at Changbin. Slowly, keeping your eyes in his, you lick the length of his cock, smearing your saliva on it so you can lazily stroke it. He pushes the hair out of your face, biting his lower lip. 

“You look fucking good like that, Y/N,” he growls. “I fucking love that dress, by the way. Made me want to snuggle my dick between your tits all night.” 

You chuckle, kissing the tip of his cock. “Who knows, if you’re nice to me, your dream might come true.” 

“Nice?” he laughs. “I’m not sure I know how to do nice. But I can certainly fuck your brains out.”

“Sounds nice enough to me.” 

You guide his cock in your mouth, slowly taking it as deep as you can. Changbin breathes out, holding your hair. You start to bob your head up and down his length, swirling your tongue at the same time. 

“Good, that’s good,” he whispers. “Fucking good.” 

Encouraged by his praise, you accelerate your movements, and Changbin thrusts his hips sharply. Surprised, you gag a little, taking a deep breath. 

“Hm,” he chuckles. “Let’s try it again, huh? I know you can do better.” 

It’s like he knows exactly what to tell you - you can do better, and you want to prove it to him. So you take him in your mouth again, taking your hand off his base, and make sure you almost reach his pelvis. Changbin breathes a guttural growl, pushing your head against the kitchen island, trapping you there. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes.” 

He fucks your mouth and you feel your eyes tear up, but you adore the sounds he makes, the way his face scrunches as he throbs in your mouth. When he pulls back after a few seconds to let you breathe, you give him a broad smile. 

“This is so fucking hot,” you chuckle. 

Changbin smiles, grazing your cheek with his thumb. “You like this, Y/N?” You like the way he says your name, like he’s still learning it, tasting it on his tongue. “Well, maybe you are a slut, huh?” 

“For you, definitely,” you tell him. 

“That’s the attitude,” he grins. “Keep sucking, my little slut.” 

You go back to it. As you moan around his length, the kitchen door opens, and Changbin quickly pulls himself out of your mouth. Luckily, from where you are behind the kitchen island, you are not visible from the entrance of the kitchen, and the island is high enough to prevent the person from seeing what is exactly happening. 

“Oh, Changbin,” the person says, and you realize it’s Felix.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Have you seen Y/N?” your cousin asks, his voice slurry. “It’s going to be midnight soon, and we always celebrate together, and…” 

He rambles on, clearly drunker than you. That might help prevent him from suspecting anything, you tell yourself. Still, you bite your lip hard, trying not to move or breathe too loud. 

“I haven’t, sorry,” Changbin says. “Just fixing myself a drink. Maybe she went to get some air outside?” 

Felix gasps. “Oh, right. Good idea.” 

For a second you think Felix might have gone, but Changbin remains immobile, and when you look up he’s giving your cousin a broad smile. 

“You need help with something?” Felix offers. 

“Nope,” Changbin quickly replies. “All good.” 

“Cool,” Felix says. “I’ll check outside, thanks, Changbin.”

You see him wave, and the kitchen door closes behind your cousin. You breathe out, and you look at each other for a second before starting to laugh. 

“Fuck, that would’ve been awkward,” you say. 

“He’s so drunk I bet he wouldn’t have noticed,” Changbin replies, stroking your hair. “You still good to go?” 

You smile. “Fuck, yeah.” 

“Oh, you like that, don’t you? The risk of being walked on. I can see it in your eyes.” 

You don’t deny it - instead, you take his cock and slap it against your tongue. Changbin throws his head backwards and guides himself back in your mouth. It fits back easily, and you secure your hands on his thighs. 

“How does my cock fit in your mouth so well?” he breathes. “My good little slut.”

You let him fuck your mouth, feeling his thrusts getting a little more restless, and from the way he grips your hair, you know he is close. 

“I’m gonna come,” he grunts. “Look at me, Y/N.” 

When your eyes flutter up to meet his, Changbin lets out a shaky breath. You hold his penetrative gaze as he buck his hips and empties himself in your mouth. He manages not to make too much noise, clenching his jaw, and when he relaxes, you take his cock in your hands and proceed to lick him clean. You trace his length, lick your lips, and he twitches a little, coming down from his orgasm. 

“Did my little slut swallow everything?” he asks hoarsely. 

You nod, showing him your tongue. He chuckles, putting his cock back in his pants. You look at his face, smiling, and he brings you up to your feet. 

“Let’s fix you up.” 

He proceeds to put your hair back in order, taking a napkin to wipe the corners of your mouth and the mascara that dripped down your cheeks a little. Meanwhile you just take the opportunity to look at him. When he’s done, he eyes you up and down, and you pout. 

“What about me?” 

“What about you, sweet thing?” 

“I want to come in your mouth, too.” 

Changbin smiles, and you take his hand to guide it under your dress. You open his palm so he cups your soaked underwear. The contact already makes you moan, and you roll your hips against his hand. 

“I’m so fucking wet, Changbin…” 

He parts his mouth at the same time the kitchen door opens again. You twirl around, Changbin’s hand escaping the throbbing space between your legs. It’s Felix again. 

“I didn’t find her, so I -” 

Your cousin stops, staring at you, blinking, visibly confused. 

“I found her,” Changbin smiles. 

You grin at your cousin, who finally breaks into a smile and walks up to you, oblivious, rambling about the fact that it’s almost midnight and you almost missed it. You can feel it - you’ve been lucky not to get caught during the blowjob, and you can’t push it. Your drenched, aching cunt will have to wait.

“THREE, TWO, ONE… HAPPY NEW YEAR!” 

As per tradition, you, Felix and Jisung grab each other’s shoulders and start to turn in a circle. It’s something you’ve created when you were kids. You call it your manifesting circle, invoking good energy for the rest of the year. It’s bullshit, but you couldn’t see yourself not doing it every New Year’s. 

Felix smooches you on the cheek, Jisung runs away to find Yuna, and you feel someone tapping your shoulder. You turn to find Changbin standing behind you, a smirk on his lips. He takes your chin in his hand and guides your head upwards, kissing you deeply. Felix yells happily in your ear, but you barely hear him, drunk on the booze, drunk on Changbin’s tongue playing with yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, making out with him for what seems like hours, until you’re out of breath, until you can barely stand straight. 

When you look at him afterwards, his eyes are shining, and his smile steals your heart. 

“Happy New Year,” he whispers. 

The only thing reminding you that what happened with Changbin is real is that your mouth and throat feel a little sore - but other than that, you might have thought it was some kind of vivid, waking dream. 

You want to keep talking to him, but Felix really wants to dance with you and you can never say no to him, so Changbin just decides to do it with the two of you. You giggle excitedly as he rolls his hips seductively, and you and Felix show him a choreography that you created when you were kids. Changbin laughs so hard he holds his sides.  

When the three of you get too tired, Felix joins a board game and Changbin sits down on the couch next to you, his arm around your shoulder, not caring in the slightest at what people might say. You snuggle against him as you talk to Hyunjin, who wanted to talk to you about Daki. She has gone home, apparently. You feel bad for her, but not really. It never brings any good to be mean with no reason, Hyunjin tells you. 

You and Changbin keep close to each other, exchanging knowing smiles. His hand is resting on your thigh, and your head is leaning on his shoulder. You’re a little impatient for more, but it’s also thrilling. You want to kiss him. You want to know how his tongue feels against yours. How he would use his lips on your pussy. How his cock would feel inside you. You want to hear him groan again. 

Although he’s softer outside of sex, you’re not surprised by his dominating personality, and you find yourself craving it. It’s not always a kink of yours, but with the right person, it can reduce you to a trembling mess, which is exactly what you want to become in Changbin’s arms. There’s just something about him. 

So you slowly and discreetly pull on your dress so it falls higher on your thighs. Changbin’s eyes drop on them, and he slides his hand higher. You repeat the same game two more times, stopping before it gets downright inappropriate. Eventually you can’t focus on anything else, so you stand up and say you’re going to the bathroom. 

You’re hoping Changbin gets the hint. You don’t care much anymore - everyone is either too drunk or busy to notice, and you’ve seen people disappearing for a while inside rooms. Why not you? It’s the new year, open to all opportunities, and you’re not going to waste this one. 

You walk up the stairs, glancing back at Changbin who is staring at you, biting his lip. You just smile back, and you walk very slowly upstairs. You’re almost there when you hear footsteps behind you, and you barely have time to twirl on your feet that Changbin grabs your wrist and pulls you inside the bathroom. He slams you against the door, his eyes drilling into yours. 

“I think you might be having an issue with your dress,” he smiles. 

“Do I?” you ask innocently. “Maybe you should help me with it.” 

He chuckles, spinning you around. Your palms rest against the door, your ass facing him. Changbin hikes up your dress slowly, revealing your panties. He groans and slaps your ass, kneading the skin.

“My little slut,” he breathes. “Already can’t get enough of me, huh?” 

“I can’t focus on anything,” you admit with a chuckle. “I need you, Changbin, please…” 

You breathe heavily as he brushes a finger against the fabric of your panties, over your clit and your entrance. You are soaked. 

“Fuck, please touch me…” 

He slaps your ass again, drawing a sharp breath from your mouth. 

“You want to show me your pretty pussy?” he breathes in your ear. 

“Yes.” 

“You want my fingers or my tongue?” 

“T-tongue.” 

He chuckles, taking a step back, and you glance above your shoulder to see him kneel behind you. He grins at you, pulling down your panties. 

“Arch that cute ass for me, will you?” 

You do, and he hums appreciatively, spreading your legs to get better access. He starts by coating your pussy with his fingers, licking your juices off them, and then his tongue flicks you. 

“Fuck,” you moan, twitching a little. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he sighs. “I’m going to make you come so hard your legs won’t be able to hold you up.” 

You breathe out, aching for more of his touch, and fortunately Changbin obliges. His mouth comes to rest against your throbbing cunt, and he starts to eat you out hungrily. His tongue swirls against you, presses against your clit, teases your entrance. Changbin holds your thighs apart, massaging your skin, and as you whimper and pant against his caresses, his thumb circles your folds. 

“Don’t fucking stop,” you cry out, feeling your orgasm building quickly. 

He doesn’t, only smiles against your pussy, and it’s the best feeling in the world. He kisses you, rolling his tongue on your wetness, and you only wish you could see him there, buried between your legs, his mouth and chin coated in you. 

You push your fingers against the door, biting your lip as your orgasm suddenly flashes through you. A cry escapes your mouth, your entire body shaking against Changbin who does not stop and even accelerates, guiding you through. When your muscles untense, you feel your legs give in, but Changbin quickly sits up to hold you up by the waist, pulling you to him with a chuckle. 

“What did I say, huh?” 

He groans in your ear, and you feel his hard cock against your ass. 

“I need to fuck that tight little cunt of yours. Just like it is now. Still throbbing, all drenched and ready for me.” 

“Do it, Changbin,” you nod, still hazy from your orgasm. “P-please.” 

He quickly undoes his belt and frees his cock, and brushes it against your still sensitive folds. You moan, Changbin breathing hard against your neck. 

“Ready, baby?” 

You nod, and he enters you slowly, leaving you time to adjust to him. He feels big and thick, but you’re so wet he slides in easily, not stopping until he is deep inside of you. Once he’s there, you both breathe out, chuckling in delight. 

“That’s where my cock belongs,” Changbin growls. “You good?” 

“Fuck, yes,” you sigh. 

You roll your ass against him, and Changbin takes it as an invitation to start moving. He draws his hips away from you only to thrust sharply, fucking you hard. Soon he’s pounding into you, and you’re moaning, and he’s holding your waist and burying himself inside of you like he’s going mad. 

Neither of you are going to last long, you can feel it. The teasing has been enough, and deep down you know this won’t be your last time fucking. 

“I want to fucking come inside of you,” he breathes. “Will you let me, little slut? Take my cum deep, keep it in you?” 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Give it to me. Fuck, I’m gonna come again.” 

He’s rubbing against the right spots and you’re rolling your eyes in your head. As your second orgasm flashes through you, you clench around Changbin and he lets out a low groan. You feel his cock twitch and then spurt inside of you, warm and heavy. 

He fucks you until you both ride out your orgasms, breathing heavily, his body laying against yours. Once your breathing steadies, Changbin removes himself from inside of you, and you feel his cum, mixed with your own, sliding down your inner thigh. 

You fall into his arms, letting out a long, shaky sigh. 

“Fuck… That was so good,” you breathe with a laugh. “You are so good at this, what the fuck?” 

“Right back at you,” he chuckles, pushing your hair away from your face before giving you a long kiss. “Let’s clean you up. We still have a party to attend.”

Felix is trying to explain a board game to you. He’s the worst at it. You really should just read the instruction manual, but you like hearing his voice, so you let him do it. Eventually, though, he just gives up. It’s way too late and you’re both too drunk to play such a complicated game, anyway. Instead Felix relaxes on the couch, and you lean against him. 

You talk about food, about family, about work - and then Felix catches you looking over at Changbin, who is clearly winning a game of beer pong not too far. 

“So, Changbin?” he asks, grinning. “Anything happened between you?” 

You smirk, and Felix breaks into giggles. 

“Tell me, tell me,” he begs. 

“A lady doesn’t tell,” you reply, poking his chest. 

Felix scoffs. “You, a lady? Please. I’m more of a lady than you.” 

“True,” you laugh. “Well… Yeah, something might’ve happened.” 

“Oh, that smile,” he says. “You really like him, huh?” 

You nod. 

Felix wiggles his eyebrows. “Why not go spend more time with him?” 

“Maybe later,” you smile. “For now I like spending time with my favorite cousin.” 

“Tssssk,” Felix chuckles. “I don’t believe you. You say that, but I know you tell Ji the same.” 

“Well Ji is clearly busy somewhere else, so it’s you I get to annoy.” 

You start to tickle him, and Felix gets distracted into another conversation topic, and you lose track of time, soothed by the sound of your cousin breathing, the music, the conversation around you. 

It feels like seconds later when you open your eyes, realizing you’ve been dozing off on Felix’s shoulder. Your cousin is deep asleep next to you, cuddling the plush mushroom he got from the gift exchange. He’s not the only one - a lot of people have gone to their rooms, the music is softer, and the place is a reassuring mess, with plates and glasses and pieces of wrapping paper everywhere.

Near the fireplace, Hyunjin is stroking his girlfriend’s hair, lovingly whispering things in her ear. You stand up on shaky legs, looking around for Changbin. He’s sitting in a corner with another guy, playing a quiet game of cards. You catch his gaze, and he smirks, waving at you to come. You drag your feet towards him, settling down on his leg. You nestle your head in the crook of his neck, and Changbin chuckles. 

You’re good there. You doze off a little again, and open your eyes when you hear Changbin’s friend say he’s going to sleep. You expect him to get up and walk upstairs, but instead he draws his hoodie on his head, leans against the wall and closes his eyes. You giggle, turning your face towards Changbin. 

“You want to go to bed?” he whispers. 

“Hm,” you nod. 

“Let’s go.” 

He takes your hand gently and you follow him upstairs. The first room is locked, another is already packed. The last one you find has two other people in it, so you head back downstairs and decide to nestle in an unoccupied corner of the living room. Changbin finds two blankets, laying one down on the floor, and another on your bodies. You snuggle against him, his arm enveloping you. You feel his breath in your neck. 

The living room is silent. All you can hear is the hushed whispers of Hyunjin and his girlfriend - but even those stop after a few minutes. The fire is nearly extinguished, the living room plunged in darkness. You feel warm and safe in Changbin’s arms - but you can’t bring yourself to sleep. All you can think about is how nice his body feels, how wet you are - and how you feel his cock hardening against your ass. 

“What are you thinking about?” you whisper. 

He lets out a breath. “Are you still wet?” 

His low voice in your ear makes you shiver. You nod. 

“Good,” he answers. 

His hand slips on your waist, feeling the fabric of your dress. You breathe out, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation. His fingers go further up, cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples. You arch your back, pushing your ass against his crotch. Changbin starts to breathe heavily in your neck, sending strands of your hair dancing. 

You don’t even care that you’re in the middle of a room filled with people. You just want to feel him. Besides, nobody is paying attention to you. The room is dark, and you’re protected by the blanket. 

Changbin’s hand pushes up your dress, removes your panties. When his fingers finally find your still soaked cunt, you softly whimper. 

“Fuck, you’re so warm,” Changbin breathes. “Can you be a good girl and be silent, baby?” 

You nod again. 

“Just don’t stop touching me,” you tell him. 

He smiles against the back of your neck, planting a kiss there. You open your legs a little, facilitating his access. Changbin takes two fingers and pushes them on your swollen clit, tracing wide circles, exerting just the right amount of pressure. You shudder, biting your lip to keep from moaning aloud. 

But you keep breathing, holding it back to enjoy Changbin’s caresses. His fingers relieve the ache of your folds, and then he teases your entrance. When he plunges into you, caressing your inner walls, you have to grab his sweater behind you, anything to keep yourself from moaning his name. He starts to finger you, relentlessly. It feels so fucking good. 

“Is that good, Y/N? Do you love my fingers deep inside your cunt?” 

“Yes, Changbin, fuck…” 

“I can’t wait to replace them with my cock.”

You clench around his fingers, and he must feel it, because he chuckles. 

“Do you want that, huh? Do you want me to fuck you in the middle of a crowded room?” 

“I want you to fuck me, Changbin, please… Fuck, I’m gonna come -” 

He removes his fingers in a sweep, leaving you gasping. Changbin pushes a hand against your mouth, muffling the sound. 

“Can’t have you waking everyone up, baby,” he whispers in your ear. 

You feel him pull down his pants, the tip of his cock brushing your cunt, and you breathe against his fingers. He holds them there, pushing himself inside of you, stretching you. He feels big, he feels good, already familiar - and you fall back against his body. His chest feels firm, his arms big and strong. Although there’s not much space for maneuver under the blanket, Changbin still manages to buck his hips, filling you deep. His thrusts are slow and powerful, making your body shake, and the rest of the world becomes a blur. 

“Shhhh,” he breathes in your ear. “Do you want them to know I’m fucking you?” 

You can’t help but whimper a little against his palm as he fucks you deeper, slamming his hips into you, and then you’re coming, writhing in his arms. Changbin growls in your ear, fucking you even faster, and then you feel him come inside of you. You are still trembling, slowly coming down your high, and Changbin removes his hand. 

He sighs, and you let out a chuckle, turning to face him. 

“Do you think anybody noticed?” you whisper, and he smiles. 

“I don’t really care.” 

You smile back, rubbing your nose on his jaw, his neck. Your eyes are heavy, and you feel yourself drifting off. 

“Y/N?” he asks in your ear. 

“Hm?” 

“Will you go on a date with me next week?” 

You open your eyes just enough to see him look at you. You kiss him, gently, and put your hand against his chest. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

i. midoriya — flower shop worker

i can totally picture this. izuku is such a sweet baby boy, he'd be perfect for taking care of all kinds of flora and knows how to make the most beautiful bouquets. knows a lot about the specific meanings of different kinds of flowers, too. just imagine him humming to himself while taking care of his flowers, sometimes even talking to them, with that gentle smile plastered on his face. my heart.

definitely makes a special bouquet for you every week 'n brings a few loose flowers home almost every single day, just to put them in your hair or place them around the house because he knows it brightens your day. the type of guy to leave rose petals leading up to the bedroom, just because he can (and he's sappy like that).

it's not a very well paid job by any means, but he keeps doing it because he loves to make people happy with his flowers. baby boy just wants to make people smile.

it's not very hard work either, so he often has some free time on his hands. so when you drop by the shop every now and then, he'll always find a reason to take you out back bend you over the flower arranging table to manhandle you to his heart's content. doesn't care if you walk out the shop with hickeys scattered all over your pretty skin, he just wants to make sure you know how much he loves you — and that others can see it too.

“fuck, bunny, you're so soft... you don't mind if i leave some marks, right? please let me, i'll make it up to you later, i promise. i'll make you an extra large bouquet, okay?”

k. bakugou — chef

sorry but this just sounded so right in my head i had to make it a thing lmao. gordon ramsay headass.

ok but, seriously. since he's very skilled when it comes to cooking, it just made sense that he'd be a professional chef at some point. probably has his own restaurant, too.

this man is busy in the kitchen 24/7, and the pros for you is that he lets you taste his food when you drop by before opening hours, or sometimes he'll bring some delicious leftovers. being a head chef can be stressful, so when you drop by the restaurant just before opening time, katsuki won't hesitate to bend you over the nearest counter and fuck your brains out — even if he has to order his staff out for a few minutes to be able to.

and on rare occasions, you pay him a visit when business is booming and the restaurant is packed full. you know how stressful and hectic work is for him on days like that, so you know just what he needs. texting him that you came through the back door and that you're waiting for him, he'll order his staff to take over for a few minutes and slips out to meet you in the back. this man will make you drop to your knees and facefuck you until your mascara runs down your cheeks, then forcefully push you against the door to the freezer and pound you until you're seeing stars. katsuki loves it when you let him ruin you to blow off some steam and clear his head. it's one of the many reasons he's so fucking in love with you.

“oh yeah, you like that, huh? you like choking on this big fat cock? let me hear those pretty moans when you choke on me baby, fuck– i'm gonna ruin you.”

s. todoroki — CEO

businessman shoto??? yes please.

instead of owning a succesful hero agency, enji todoroki used to be the head of a large business corporation for years, until shoto inevitably had to take over the position. he doesn't like his job — hell, he probably hates it — but considering how much he earns, he can't really complain. the only positive thing about it is that he can spoil the hell out of you, something he (surprisingly) loves doing.

it's become a regular thing for you to swing by the firm, usually bringing some of his favourite food for lunch. his personal secretary knows you very well by now, so you don't have to ask twice before you can enter his office.

more often than not, shoto's busy making phonecalls to clients and other high and mighty businessmen, a necessary task he clearly dislikes. so what better way to make it more worthwhile for him than to get down on your knees and give him some good ol' head? he secretly loves it when you do that, even if it's anything but convenient for him.

shoto's a pro when it comes to keeping his voice down or staying quiet, but that doesn't make it any less fun. just seeing him struggle to keep his attention on the phone call instead of on how deliciously you're sucking him off is enough to keep going.

the way he bites his lip as he slowly rakes his fingers through your hair, gently guiding your head up and down his pretty cock is truly a sight to behold. and when he finally gets off that phone call, you know damn well you're in for some punishment for trying to distract him. he loves it though, and so do you.

e. kirishima — firefighter

firefighter kirishima!!! i may or may not have read a fic about this some time ago and it stuck with me. can't imagine him doing anything else.

eiji is a big guy. he's hella strong, so he'd have no problem carrying multiple people out of a burning building and things like that. he's a great asset to have on the team, and his boss and coworkers are very happy to have him. and he's so cute too — just imagine his adorable face covered in soot and his hair messily tucked back in a ponytail after coming back from having casually saves like a dozen people. yeah.

eijirou loves it when you visit him from time to time at the department. if he isn't busy, he'll sneak out with you to the changing rooms for a quickie. you always have so much fun, giggling and kissing your way to a spot where you won't be bothered for a while. his kisses are always salty from the sweat, his hands are rough and calloused, he looks like a mess, but who cares.

DEMANDS to eat you out first before anything else. so eager to please, but he also does it for his own enjoyment. he gets so fucking hard from eating you out, he can't control himself after. it doesn't matter what position, he just wants to feel you clench around him as soon as possible. always always always finished inside, because he likes to eat you out some more after. literal king of pussy-eating.

“damn baby, you taste so fuckin' good... i wanna cum inside you, can i? please baby, i wan' it so bad, wanna feel you cream all over my cock when i fill you up, fuck–”

t. iida — librarian

tenya likes to read, so naturally he'd feel at home surrouded by books.

he absolutely adores it when his beautiful girlfriend comes to visit him during his shift, it just melts his heart right away. it shows him that you care a lot about him and his interests. luckily for him, he could turn his hobby into his job — and he takes his job very seriously.

tenya loves talking (or rather, whispering) to you about the most recent releases of books they just got in, or the books he's been reading himself lately. gives you lots of reccomendations for books he'd want you to read, and he knows just what genres you like.

that being said, the thrill of being caught fooling around really turns him on — and the fact that you have to be quiet only adds to that excitement. he'll take you to the far back of the library, hook his arms under your legs and lift you up, pushing your cute panties to the side to slip his cock inside your needy cunt. his soft groans in your ear makes your body feel like its on fire, and the way he's thrusting into you harder and harder makes you cover your mouth with your hand and desperately try to keep your voice down.

to try and keep his own groaning to a minimum, he'll bite down on your neck and shoulders, leaving bite marks and hickeys all over you in the process. not like he could care less though. he likes to hear how much you're struggling to take him, wanting to see how far he can take it until you start losing your mind.

“ssh, keep your voice down, princess. we don't want people to hear us now, do we? although it would be really hot if someone were to find us like this. you'd like that, don't you? you naughty girl.”

h. sero — bartender

mixing drinks, chatting with customers, listening to soothing jazz music — it all fits perfectly for a guy like hanta. with standing behind the bar, he's able to pick up on a lot of local gossip too, which he certainly doesn't mind. he's surprisingly skilled in the art of mixology, too. it's no surprise that you visit him so often at the bar. this guy can make the best cocktails, hands down.

that aside, he really enjoys it when you come to the bar and order a drink or two, just to watch him work. that way, he can keep stealing glances from you and admire you while he does his job.

whenever he's on break, he signals it to you so you can meet in the bathroom. he goes in first, so you can follow a few minutes later.

because there's usually some amount of alcohol involved, he likes to take it slow and take his time to feel you up. lazily rubbing your clit through your panties and nibbling at your ear while he whispers the filthiest things to you. the sex is slow, messy, sensual. desperate.

he's got you pushed up against the bathroom stall door, panties hurriedly pushed to the side so he can slip inside with ease. your kisses taste just like his cocktails, with a hint of sweetness from your cherry lipbalm. his heavy breathing against your skin gives you goosebumps, and his pace is agonisingly slow; so much so that you're quickly to the point of begging him to fuck you harder.

the closer he gets, the faster and more irregular his pace gets. he'll speed up quickly, the sudden change in pace making your head fall back. when he cums inside, he's got his face buried in your chest, leaving hickeys everywhere. luckily you always bring some makeup in your handbag to try and conceal those hickeys afterwards, so they're not too obvious.

“heh, sorry princess, i think i went a lil' overboard this time. i just couldn't resist you. make sure to leave a few minutes after me so people won't suspect us, m'kay? i'll pour ya 'nother drink on the house to make it up to ya.”

d. kaminari — club owner

at first i was thinking of something super cliché, but then i thought of this and (to me) it fits him perfectly.

denki's a fun and outgoing guy, and he seems to me like the type that loves to go out for a night on the town, so eventually he'd start his own club — the perfect place he'd want to go to every night. and it's quickly become one of the most popular clubs in the area.

he can always be found at his club, be it mingling with the customers, having a smoke, or having drinks at the bar. he even hires sero to be his bartender and jirou to play there with her band from time to time, since they're such good friends.

whenever you visit, you always know exactly where to find him. he likes it when you act like just a regular customer, as if you're meeting for the very first time. fantasies like that really turn him on. he always looks forward to when you visit him next.

some flirtatious chatting, maybe a little dancing and a few drinks later, he'll take your hand and lead you up the stairs to his private office. it has a large one-way mirrored glass window, so you're able to oversee the entire club from up there. once inside, he'll lift you up onto his desk, lustfully making out with you as his hands sneak their way up your thighs. loves to tease you until you're all flustered 'n needy for him.

he fucking loves it when you give him a strip tease, too. he'll sit down onto his chair and watch you undress yourself for him, admiring every inch of your body like the masterpiece that you are.

fucks you slow and hard against his window, pressing your body against the cold glass and making you look down at all the unknowing customers enjoying themselves down below as he bites at your neck.

“that's it baby, moan f'me, fuck... look at all those people, so oblivious to how hard i'm fucking you up here in my office. it's a shame they can't enjoy it with us. how about we give them a little show next time, hm?”

m. ojiro — martial arts teacher

i mean, of course. who better to teach martial arts than mr. tailman himself?

he primarily teaches younger age groups, because he's actually very good with kids. he has his own dojo where he teaches, and sometimes you drop by near the end of his classes just to watch him do his thing. he acts like he doesn't notice when you come in, but you both know he always does. (the tips of his ears turn bright red whenever he knows you're staring at him). some of the kids know you very well by now, and always greet you when they get ready to leave.

seeing how good he is with children — and how sexy he looks afterwards, all sweaty, hair messed up, his karetegi a bit loose — is enough to make you want him. and he knows this.

mashi makes sure to double check if everyone has left before he throws you onto the mat, kissing you passionately as his hands roam every inch of your body, helping you lift one leg up to spread your legs apart. you make it a game too, wrestling each other playfully, trying to get the other on their back. you both know he'll overpower you with ease, but he often holds back and lets you win, just to see you straddle him. before long, clothes are scattered all over the floor and all that's audible is your heavy breathing and the sounds of skin slapping against skin.

mashirao loves looking at your ass, so he makes you bend down and gently but firmly presses your face against the floor while he fucks you, arms tied behind your back with his black belt. he loves using it to tie you up, making you surrender to him and have his way with you all he wants.

“damn baby, look at you. so pretty, all for me to use. want me to breed that pretty pussy? yeah? ass up then.”

r. sato — baker

this one just makes sense. if two plus two equals four, then rikido sato is a baker lmao. or maybe more accurately, a pastry chef. this man can probably do it all so it doesn't even matter.

i just love the idea of rikido having his own lil' bakery, baking delicious goods all day so his shop (and by extention, he himself) smells like freshly baked bread all the time. it's no surprise you gained a few pounds by dating him, this guy will show his affection and love for you by feeding you his homemade pastries and other delicious confectionaries. you know where i'm going with this.

he finds it adorable that you're willing to help out with the bakery from time to time, and to show you his appreciation, he'll reward you in the best way possible; with some good dick. rikido is PACKED y'all, holy shit. absolutely huge. and because of that, he loves seeing you practically being split open on his massive cock. you'd be lying on the kitchen floor covered in flour 'n he's got your legs hooked over his broad shoulders, folding you in half 'n pounding into you like there's no tomorrow.

rikido is such a sweet lover too, it's insane. he's so caring and loving while he can also be rough with you. it's the best of both worlds. goes absolutely feral when he sees your eyes roll back and breathless moans fall from your lips as your body starts contorting from how deep he's going.

loves to cum all over you, but loves it most of all when you swallow his seed. he cums so much too, it's insane. it's messy, filthy, but he goes absolutely crazy over it. Can you blame him for wanting to decorate his favourite lil' cupcake though?

m. shoji — construction worker

let's be honest; with those arms and the strength he posesses, shoji would be perfect to work in construction. being able to lift up a lot of heavy stuff, while also being able to watch out so accidents don't happen. gosh, just imagine him in some heavy working boots 'n his bright yellow vest that's a little too small for a big guy like him, covered in sweat and dirt from all the hard work.

he doesn't really approve of you visiting him while he's working, since he wouldn't want anything to happen to you on accident (working at construction sites can be dangerous!). but even so, his heart beats a little faster every time you do. you just look so cute, strutting towards him with a lunchbox you made just for him.

it gets him pretty riled up, not gonna lie. he gets flustered pretty easily, and even just acts of kindness and love like these is enough for him to get hard. he'll be a little embarrassed to ask you outright, but you see right through him instantly, as if he's made out of glass. You know how he gets when he wants you.

it's up to you to take initiative — take his hand and lead him to a safe spot where you can't be seen so you can do your thing in peace. he'll be reluctant at first, but the second you two are alone, he pushes you up against the nearest piece of concrete and hungrily manhandles you, the loud noises of machines drowned out by the sound of your passionate kissing and deep breathing.

shoji is always careful with you, because he's aware of his strength and how big he is compared to you — but that doesn't stop you from trying to conquer him though. he's a service dom, so he'll do anything to please you. lays down on the ground and makes you sit on his face so he can eat you out first, then lets you ride him while he thrusts up into you. he's so big, making you whine as soon as he enters you, but he shushes you and gives you non-verbal affirmations for taking him so well.

doesn't mind it if you make a mess of him or his clothes, because he's already looking pretty rough from all the hard work anyway. he'll have plenty of time to shower with you once he gets home. after a round two, of course.

The way he’s leaning against the counter, shifting his weight as he listens intently over the phone, he’s a sight to see. His hair, normally tied up tightly on the top of his head, is unusually loose today. It is Saturday after all, so he’s dressed casually. Pieces of his soft, jet-black hair fall against his neck, tangled with each other. His bangs keep brushing in his eyes, and he tries to pull them behind his ear with his free hand.

Feeling elated at how perfect he is, you're reminded of how he belongs to you. And you want him to feel good.

The pads of your feet are nearly silent as you creep into the kitchen. Once you’re directly behind him, his lean back slightly arched as he’s tapping his fingers on the counter, you rest your hands on his shoulders. He doesn’t turn around, the tension in his body softens from your touch. You both are the only ones home that day, so he isn’t startled by you.

You rest your forehead on his back, letting your hands slide down his biceps, gently. He loves your little touches; nuzzling your face into him randomly.

His lips curve upwards as he nods, “Yes, I heard you. This coming week we can plan how we’d like to approach the upcoming mission..”

Aki continues his conversation, letting you grope his toned biceps. He tries not to smile too much while you feel him up, but you're so cute when you can't keep your hands off of him. If anyone else had come into the kitchen and interrupted him, there’d be hell to pay.

You inhale him, grazing your lips across the old t-shirt he’s wearing. It’s been worn so many times, the fabric is thinning in certain areas. You’ve worn it before too. Aki’s gotten a little mad before because you keep stealing it from him, and it ends up in your drawers instead of his.

As much as you like wearing it, you love when he’s wearing it. The way it drapes over his shoulders, the collar beginning to stretch over time, revealing his collarbones… the dip in his neck. You like watching him do mundane things around the house when he’s wearing the shirt; how it falls open when he bends over while vacuuming, revealing a clear view of his lean chest.

It’s insane how he doesn’t understand how sexy he is. How fucking beautiful he is.

You drag your hands up his back, fingertips massaging his stiff muscles. Aki likes when you scratch his back; he drops his head lightly while he continues humming affirmations over the phone. He relaxes more as you dig your fingers into the space between his shoulder blades.

Your excitement begins to swell at the thought of how you can make him feel good like this, how he surrenders almost always to your touch. Slowly, your hands trail over his abdomen, fisting the old shirt up in your palms to reveal his tummy. Aki huffs through his nose, your warm hands surprising him. He tries to turn his head to face you, but you shrink away, hiding behind him playfully.

“uh–no, we’ll have to get that information from…,” he stammers, still trying to have a coherent conversation with the recruit.

Pressing your mouth against his back, you chuckle. He acts like he doesn't want you playing with him like this; he could easily overtake you with one arm and push you out of the room. But he turns forward, trying to divert his attention back to the phone.

Aki sighs unintentionally, making the recruit think he’s irritated with him, which is partially true. But the poor guy has no idea that you're dragging your fingertips across the waistline of his jeans. His happy trail is soft, gets fuller as it leads from his belly button, and disappears under his boxers. You drag your fingers along the trail, twisting the hairs lightly between your fingers.

Aki’s abdomen flexes when you do this, and he pushes the end of the phone past his chin to look down. He can see the bulge appearing beneath his jeans, becoming harder against his thigh while you continue toying with his waist.

A melodic giggle escapes your mouth when he reaches back to grab you abruptly. His big hand grasps your waist, fingers digging into your side; he can’t decide if he should push you away or keep you right where you are.

Smiling mischievously, you bury your face into him more. You snake your hand lower to his growing bulge and give it a quick squeeze. His mouth drops open, watching your pretty hand rub him. It's been a few moments too long since he’s spoken to the recruit, and you can hear a faint voice still yapping away.

With his arm still wrapped around you from behind, you fiddle with the button of his jeans popping it open and proceed to unzip him.

Aki exhales quickly, “Huh– well, why don't we discuss the details of it on Monday…w-we could meet in the lobby…” he’s stammering now.

His cock is rock hard now, and you struggle to pull it out of his boxers, trying to be gentle so as not to hurt him, but your lustful urges are getting impatient. He feels so warm and heavy in your hand, with perfect girth. Once he plops out, you give him a few lazy strokes before letting go, his dick resting against the kitchen counter. Aki’s arm falls away from your waist and he tries turning around to face you again, his lustful culprit.

Stepping back, you mouth to him, “Hang-up-the-phone.”

Wide-eyed, he clears his throat, “Ahem–I apologize but I’ll need to call you back in a few minutes. Yes, yes, that's fine, I have your number. Yes–goodbye.” He quickly hangs the phone on the receiver with a ‘click’ and turns back to you.

“Are you trying to get me fired, missy?”

You coyly take a step back from him and in turn, he steps forward. His cock is still sticking out the top of his jeans, prominent and hard. Aching. All because of you.

All you can do is smile at him, teasingly, your grin infectious, “No, of course not. I just thought I could help you,” you dart your eyes between his legs.

He gives you a dubious look, lifting his chin, “Oh, yeah? You thought this would help me?” he holds his cock with one hand, firmly. Seeing him hold it, how his fingers wrap so elegantly along his length makes your pussy ache.

The throb is too much, and you have to rub yourself. Biting your lip, your hand slides over your shorts and you press firmly into your swollen lips, feeling the wetness seeping through the cloth.

Seeing you grope yourself, so needy, makes him twitch in his hand. So he leans back against the counter and proceeds to pull his jeans down to his thighs; toned, and covered in soft downy hair. They lead up to his groin; get darker and fuller over his pelvis, with his balls nestled sweetly in his bush. They’re full and heavy, the kind that makes you want to bury your face in them.

Breathily, he sighs, “c’mere, baby,”

You rush to him, letting your hands snake under his old shirt before your mouths crash together. The eagerness of your kisses makes him chuckle against your mouth. Aki holds your face firmly with both hands. Kissing him makes you feel like you’re on fire; a delicious fire that you welcome.

The heat emanating from your core spreads into your abdomen, then into your heaving chest as he sucks on your tongue. You can feel his cock pressed against your tummy, so warm and firm. And wet.

“I want you right now, please,” your moans are needy and shameless.

“What do you want, baby?” He manages to slur between sloppily kissing you, pulling you closer into him. Aki knows what you want…he just needs to hear you say it. He fists his hands in your hair, knuckles protruding out of the thick mass, and whispers “Tell me what you want,”

Gasping at the sudden grip he has, your voice half-chokes, “I… I want you inside me, I want you closer to me…”

Aki nuzzles his nose to yours, adoring the sound of your voice.

“Yeah? And how do you want me inside you…how should I do it?”

He pulls your head to the side and gives your neck soft, slow kisses. Your low whimpers are uncontrollable, the juxtaposed sensation of his sweet kisses in contrast to the sting you feel from your scalp.

“…from behind,” you choke, “—I want you t’fuck me from behind.”

Your words ignite inside him, and he loosens the grip on your hair, leaving kisses across your soft face, across your lips, adoring you. You feel so helplessly lost in the anticipation of what’s next, kissing him back as he pushes you to the counter. Breaking away from your mouth, he flips you around, pushing you flatly to the surface.

Aki lifts his shirt up over his head in one swoop, dropping it near your face. His body is chiseled, defined by lean muscles, the veins in his forearms seeming more prominent than normal. He pulls your shorts down, the plush of your ass enticing him to kiss the curves as he pulls them from your feet. Feeling feverish from your taste, he licks a quick strip up your pussy lips, between your cheeks, making your legs quiver.

He grabs your ass and pulls you apart, wasting no time, lapping at your folds. As many times as he's eaten you out from behind, it still feels so vulnerable. The apples of your cheeks get hot, a hint of embarrassment mixed with ungodly pleasure from his wet tongue.

“You make me crazy, you know that?” he slurs between his sloppy licks.

Your mind wanders for a split second, reminded of how you're both alone today and how thankful you are that the roommates won't be back for a while. They'd never recover if they walked through that front door and witnessed this obscene position: you naked from the waist down, belly first, sprawled over the kitchen countertop, with Aki on his knees, nose buried in your ass, pants still snug around his naked thighs.

The phone rings. He pulls away quickly, face shining with your juices, and remembers how he needs to call the guy back. It’s been much longer than a few minutes at this point. He utters a low “shit” and stands up behind you, his jeans starting to sag to his ankles.

Pushing back on him, your ass jiggling on his length, you tell him “Better hurry up,”

Without another word, Aki grabs your hips, positioning himself, sliding his swollen head through your folds, until he’s able to sink in effortlessly. Once he’s inside, his pace is relentless. Your whole body bounces on the countertop; your ass and thighs rippling with each thrust of his hips.

Lewd sounds of his hips smacking your ass fill the kitchen. You know when he’s getting close because his rhythm gets sloppy; switching between clean, hard thrust to grinding upward, lifting your feet off the tiles. He fucks you so well. Especially when he’s in a rush.

The phone stops after the fifth ring. He’s still grinding into you, desperate to finish. Looking back at him, you see he’s flushed, eyes fixated on where you’re connected. The angle of his thrust starts hitting the right spot inside you, and your legs go slack. Relaxing, you lean on the counter, and concentrate on the feeling of him pounding your g-spot.

“oooh— you’re gonna make me cum,”

Even in his rushed state, he still wants you to finish first. He knows having you gush all over him will make his climax feel better than anything. Aki continues grinding upward, hitting your spongy spot. The sound of your voice mixed with the visual of you struggling to keep yourself grounded, hands searching for something to grip is getting him closer.

It happens when you least expect it; your walls fluttering around his length, your hot essences drenching the both of you. Aki groans at the warmth as it drips down your thighs, and it only takes a few more pumps till he’s pulling out, laying his pulsing cock on your ass as it spurts across your back.