#chan fluff
Text
Lessons in love - Chp.1
Pairing: Hyunchan (mention of Changlix | Minho)
Word Count: 4013
Summary: Chan and Hyunjin, both teachers at Stray Seoul University and roommates, are hopelessly in love with each other, too scared to admit anything. Chan's best friend Minho tries to help after he gets jealous of Felix and Changbin casually flirting with Hyunjin all the time.
Warnings/Tags: college!au, fluff, angst, mutual pining
A/N: So this whole thing is based on this reblog by miu @slutforchanlix and the following rambling with azzy @galaxycatdrawz. This developed into a series real quick and will focus on different dynamics between the rest of the boys as well. I hope you'll have fun reading🖤
do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -
In the quaint corridors of Stray Seoul University, where ancient oaks whispered old secrets and the breeze carried the scent of fresh paint and old books, Hyunjin and Chan found their sanctuary a few years ago. The two of them were close friends and roommates, each harboring a secret that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. This secret was their unspoken love for each other, a silent symphony that played in the background of their everyday lives. It had been for years.
Hyunjin, with his delicate hands and bright eyes, was the Arts teacher. His classroom was on the third floor of the main building, a room with wide windows that bathed his workspace in natural light. Here, canvases burst into life under his guidance as he taught his students the dance of brush and color. His methods were something new, and his critiques were always constructive but layered with an enthusiasm that made every student feel like a budding Van Gogh. His passion for art was evident in the way his eyes sparkled when discussing the texture of a painting or the gradient of a sunset.
Chan, on the other hand, loved his position as an English teacher. His domain was just a corridor away, in a classroom filled with the rich aroma of old books and new paper. Chan’s lessons were a journey through the landscapes of literature and the intricacies of language. He had a reputation for making Shakespeare relatable and teaching grammar without the usual dread associated with it. His students loved his animated storytelling sessions and the way he could bring characters to life, making metaphysical poets as compelling as contemporary novelists.
Their home was a small apartment just a few blocks away from Stray Seoul University’s campus. It was a cozy little apartment, where each room was filled with the artifacts of their professions - Hyunjin’s sketches adorned the fridge, while plenty of Chan’s annotated copies often lay scattered on the coffee table. They moved around each other with comfortable ease, a rhythm perfected over time, shared smiles, and an occasional brush of hands that neither dared to acknowledge the way they’d love to.
Despite their closeness, both Hyunjin and Chan were guarded about their feelings. Their friendship was a delicate vase on the edge of a table, beautiful but terrifying in its fragility. Evenings often found them on their small balcony, where they talked about everything but those feelings. Hyunjin would describe his latest project, his hands painting the air as he spoke, while Chan would listen, his eyes often lingering a moment too long, full of words he couldn't voice.
At college, they maintained a professional but friendly demeanor. Students often speculated about their closeness, their seamless cooperation during faculty meetings, and their mutual admiration when discussing school projects. They were known for spending their lunch breaks together, and every student knew if there were a field trip planned, the other would be the additional teacher. Both were beloved for their dedication and the safe space they created in their classrooms. Their colleagues respected them for their talents and the subtle ways they supported each other - Chan providing literary quotes that Hyunjin might use in a lecture on art history, or Hyunjin recommending visual materials that could help Chan illustrate a point about descriptive narratives.
Yet, in those quiet moments between tasks, when the world seemed to slow down, Chan found his thoughts drifting to Hyunjin more often than he would admit. He remembered their first meeting, an accidental encounter in the university library back when they just started studying themselves. Chan had been searching for a particular book on Elizabethan poetry when he had spotted Hyunjin, a few shelves away, deeply engrossed in a book on Renaissance art. Their eyes had met briefly, and something unspoken had passed between them that neither of them could explain.
From that moment on, their paths seemed to intersect more frequently. Shared lunches in the cafeteria turned into evening strolls around the campus, and those strolls led to late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Each interaction was a new layer added to their growing bond, a bond that was as comforting as it was confusing for Chan.
He often found himself mesmerized by Hyunjin's presence. There was something about the way Hyunjin moved, with a grace that seemed almost ethereal, and the way he spoke, his words like gentle strokes on a canvas. Chan admired his friend’s passion for art, the way he could lose himself in a painting for hours, completely absorbed by the play of colors and textures. It was during these moments, watching Hyunjin in his element, that Chan felt the stirrings of something deeper, something that went beyond friendship. Shit, he was in love, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Hyunjin’s love for Chan had grown slowly over time, like a seed taking root in the fertile soil of shared experiences and mutual respect. He cherished their friendship, but the intensity of his feelings often left him breathless. He admired Chan’s dedication to his students and the way his face would light up when discussing a particularly engaging piece of literature. Hyunjin found himself mesmerized by the passion in Chan’s eyes, the way his hands would move animatedly as he spoke. It was in these moments that Hyunjin felt the stirrings of something deeper, something that went beyond friendship.
Every day, as they walked to the university together, Hyunjin would steal glances at Chan, hoping to catch a glimpse of the emotions that might mirror his own. The soft morning light would play on Chan’s features, highlighting the lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, and the warmth in his eyes. Hyunjin’s heart would beat a little faster, a silent testament to the love he kept hidden.
One rainy afternoon, as they sat together in the university café, Chan was grading papers while Hyunjin sketched absentmindedly. The sound of rain tapping against the windows created a cocoon of intimacy around them. Hyunjin looked up from his sketchpad and watched Chan for a moment, admiring the way his brow furrowed in concentration.
“What are you working on?” Chan asked, glancing up from his papers and catching Hyunjin’s gaze.
“Oh, just a rough sketch,” Hyunjin replied, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He quickly looked down, feeling the weight of his unspoken feelings.
Chan smiled warmly at his friend's shyness. “Can I see it?”
Hyunjin hesitated for a moment before handing over the sketchpad. The drawing was a portrait of Chan, his features captured with an intimacy that spoke volumes of Hyunjin’s admiration. Chan studied the drawing, a look of surprise and something else - something tender - crossing his face.
“This is incredible, Hyunjin,” Chan said softly, his voice filled with awe. “You’ve captured…so much.”
Hyunjin’s heart raced as he searched Chan’s eyes for any hint of recognition, any sign that his feelings might be reciprocated. But Chan’s expression remained unreadable, and the moment passed, leaving Hyunjin with a bittersweet ache in his chest. “It's nothing,” he waved him off, taking it back.
Chan chuckled at him, fondly rolling his eyes. “Always so modest.”
Hyunjin hummed gently, staring out of the window as Chan continued working. He watched the raindrops painting their vivid pictures along the glass, but his eyes went back to Chan much sooner than he’d like. He often found himself caught in moments of quiet admiration for Chan, his eyes tracing the contours of Chan's face with the same intensity and focus he applied to his art.
A sliver of late afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, breaking through the clouds and illuminating Chan’s profile. The light danced across his face, highlighting the arch of his cheekbone and the curve of his jaw. Hyunjin watched as Chan read, completely absorbed in his students’ work, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. It was these unguarded, intimate moments that Hyunjin cherished most - the quiet, the soft rustling of pages, and Chan's expressive eyes moving swiftly across the text.
Chan’s beauty was not just in his features but in his movements and expressions. When he laughed, his eyes lit up, creasing at the corners, and his whole face seemed to brighten the room. When he was deep in thought, his lips would purse slightly, and his fingers would tap rhythmically on the surface beside him. These nuances, these small, everyday gestures, drew Hyunjin in deeper, his admiration growing with each passing moment.
Hyunjin's sketches often contained these details. His sketchpad was filled with lines attempting to capture the essence of Chan’s expressions. Each drawing was a silent testament to his deep affection - a collection of moments that Hyunjin treasured.
The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts, a soft smile covering his lips, spotting Felix. Felix, the owner of the cafe, was a charismatic Australian who had quickly established his little shop on campus as a warm, inviting haven. With his sunny smile and talent for remembering his customers' favorite orders, Felix had become particularly popular among the university crowd. His friendly banter and the occasional free pastry for his regulars only added to his charm.
"Hyunjin, Chan! Good to see you guys," Felix greeted them with his usual broad smile, putting aside his jacket. His gaze lingered slightly longer on Hyunjin, something that didn’t escape Chan’s notice.
"Hey, Lix," Hyunjin replied, his own smile a mirror of Felix’s enthusiasm. "It’s getting chilly out there, isn’t it?"
"Yeah, perfect weather for a hot cup of your favorite," Felix chuckled, already turning to prepare their usual orders, spotting their empty cups on the table. "The usual for you both?"
"That would be great, thanks," Chan interjected, trying to sound casual but feeling a twinge of discomfort at the easy banter between Hyunjin and Felix.
As Felix set about making their drinks, Hyunjin browsed through some of the new art magazines stacked on a nearby shelf while Chan watched Felix. He had noticed the way Felix moved with an effortless grace around the café, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, and how he seemed particularly animated, especially around Hyunjin a while ago. He knew Hyunjin and Lix got along quite well, and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and destroy that. It still bothered him.
When Felix brought over their coffees, his hand brushed against Hyunjin’s as he passed him the cup. Chan’s heart sank a little at the sight, the warmth in Felix’s eyes seeming to hold a hint of something more than just friendliness.
"So, Hyunjinnie," Felix started, slipping onto the bench next to him with a casual air, "how’s the new project going? You were telling me about that abstract piece you were working on."
Hyunjin’s face lit up at the question. "It’s going well, thanks for asking! I’m trying some new techniques, so it’s a bit of a challenge, but I’m enjoying it."
"That sounds amazing. You’ll have to show me sometime. I’d love to get a better understanding of your process," Felix replied, his interest seeming genuine but his tone perhaps too eager for Chan’s liking.
Chan watched as Hyunjin nodded, his eyes bright with the prospect of sharing his work. "Definitely, I’d appreciate your feedback."
The conversation flowed smoothly, and Chan felt increasingly like an outsider, his contributions to the conversation feeling forced and hollow in comparison to the natural rapport between Felix and Hyunjin.
The rest of their café visit passed in a blur for Chan. He laughed at the right moments and engaged in the conversation when necessary, but his thoughts were clouded with an unwelcome jealousy. He found himself analyzing every interaction between Felix and Hyunjin, each smile and each glance adding to his growing unease.
Chan tried to talk himself out of his feelings. Felix was just being friendly, he reasoned; it was part of his charm and why the cafe was so popular. Yet, no amount of rationalization seemed to soothe his unease.
One day, driven by a mix of desperation and a desire to understand, Chan decided to confront the situation. He waited until he and Hyunjin were alone, their steps echoing slightly as they walked through the quiet university campus back to Chan’s classroom.
"Hyunjin, can I ask you something?" Chan’s voice was hesitant, a stark contrast to his usual confident tone.
"Of course, Chan. What’s on your mind?" Hyunjin looked at him with concern, sensing the seriousness in his friend’s demeanor.
"It’s about Felix… and you," Chan paused, struggling to find the right words. "Do you feel like he’s… well, flirting with you?"
Hyunjin looked surprised, his eyebrows arching slightly. "Flirting with me? I… hadn’t really thought about it. He’s always nice, but I just thought he was like that with everyone,” he said, pulling the door to Chan’s classroom closed after himself.
Chan nodded slowly, the response not quite easing the tightness in his chest. "Maybe, but it seems different with you. More personal."
Hyunjin considered this for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose I can see how it might come across that way. But he’s with Changbin; he can’t mean much with it,” he giggled. “Changbin does it too, and you never mentioned it.”
Chan anxiously chewed his lower lip, thinking of Felix. There was something undeniably captivating about Felix - his demeanor exuded a warmth and magnetism that drew people to him. Watching him, Chan couldn't help but feel a mixture of admiration and a curious twinge of envy.
Felix's laughter could fill the café, a sound that seemed to echo off the walls and infuse the space with an extra dose of vitality. His hair was tousled perfectly as if each strand had been artfully arranged to give him a carefree, effortlessly charming look. His eyes sparkled with genuine interest as he listened to his customers, making each person feel like the center of his world. It was this quality, Chan thought, that made Felix not just a great café owner but a person who seemed to love his life and his interactions genuinely. It was hard not to think of Felix as someone out of a feel-good novel - the charismatic, adventurous protagonist that made Chan sometimes feel like he was missing from his own life. Sitting there, sipping his coffee, Chan allowed himself a moment to imagine what it would be like to live with that kind of joy and confidence. He couldn’t really blame Hyunjin for preferring his presence over his own.
“Yeah…but Binnie has stated quite often that he’s joking,” Chan argued weakly, his thoughts lingering on Changbin, the PE teacher whose presence seemed to lighten the mood wherever he was. There was an undeniable vitality about Changbin, an enthusiasm that he brought to his classes and interactions. Changbin’s face wore a constant, warm smile, making him approachable despite his imposing physique. His kindness was not just in his gestures or words but in his eyes, which sparkled with genuine concern and interest whenever he engaged with his students or colleagues. Today, Chan had watched him from afar, helping a student perfect their volleyball serve, his patience evident in his calm demeanor and encouraging nods. Chan admired how Changbin treated everyone with the same level of respect and kindness, whether they were star athletes or struggling novices. It was this treatment that truly set Changbin apart in Chan's eyes, making him not just physically attractive but deeply admirable.
Reflecting on this, Chan thought about the subtle strength underlying Changbin’s kindness. It was a reminder that true strength was not just physical but the grace with which one treated others. Changbin’s hands, so capable of demonstrating sports techniques, were also gentle in offering a reassuring pat on the back or a high five. There was a natural charisma about him that made people feel valued - a trait Chan not only admired but also aspired to include in his own teaching.
Hyunjin remained quiet for a moment, frowning softly. “I’m sorry, Chan, I didn’t realize it was bothering you. I thought you liked Lix."
Hyunjin's words caught Chan off-guard, stirring a mix of feelings within him. "I do like Felix," Chan admitted, his voice tinged with reluctance. "He's a great guy, but seeing him around you like that... it made me feel unsettled. And I guess it's because..." Chan hesitated, the words stuck in his throat.
"Because what?" Hyunjin prodded gently, almost hoping for Chan to make a confession right here and now.
Chan sighed, the weight of his unspoken truths pressing heavily on him. "It's because I care about you, Hyunjin. More than I probably should,” he said, missing the hopeful glint in Hyunjin’s eyes as he stared at the floor.
Hyunjin's expression softened, his eyes conveying a mix of surprise and compassion. He reached out to place a reassuring hand on Chan's shoulder. "I care about you too, so much...so, please be honest. What’s suddenly bothering you about it?"
Chan looked into Hyunjin's eyes, finding in them a reflection of his own fears and hopes. "I just don’t want you to get hurt," Chan said, managing a small smile despite the tumult of emotions inside him.
“Oh,” Hyunjin nodded, forcing a smile onto his lips. “There’s no need, really. Lix just loves to flirt a little,” he said, swallowing down the bitter taste of disappointment lacing his throat. “I should get to class; I’ll see you later.”
“Okay,” Chan nodded, staring after him. A shaky breath left his lips as the door shut close behind his friend, and the silence around him grew awfully loud. “Coward,” he whispered to himself, groaning softly. He checked his watch and nodded to himself. One more period until lunch break. Which meant his best friend had his break now, teaching a class later. Slipping his papers into his bag, Chan made his way to the faculty lounge, where he knew he would find Minho, the beloved Dance and Performing Arts teacher and his best friend since childhood. Minho was already at their usual spot in the corner of the university's bustling cafeteria, his tray filled with food. As Chan approached, Minho's face lit up with a welcoming smile.
"Channie! How's the master of Shakespeare today?" Minho teased, pushing a chair out with his foot for Chan to sit.
"More like the master of self-conflict," Chan muttered as he sank down into the chair, his shoulders slumping.
Minho's expression shifted to one of concern. "What's up? You look like you've lost a fight with a couple of your metaphysical poets."
Chan chuckled weakly. "It's not the poets giving me trouble. It's...it’s about Hyunjin."
Minho raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Hyunjin, huh? What about him? Don't tell me you finally confessed?"
Chan shook his head, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. "No, nothing like that. It’s just... Felix was flirting with him again, and I don't know; it made me feel weird."
Minho's laughter filled the air, a light-hearted sound that made a few nearby students glance over in curiosity. "Oh, Channie hyung! That’s classic!"
"It's not funny, Minho," Chan protested, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t help feeling... jealous."
Minho burst out laughing again, covering his mouth with his hand. "Jealous? Of Yongbokie? That man flirts with anything that breathes—it’s probably just his way. But this is good!"
Chan frowned, puzzled. "How is any of that good?"
"It means you’re finally facing your feelings head-on instead of burying them in your lesson plans and Shakespearean monologues," Minho chuckled, then became more serious. "Look, Chan, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’ve got it bad for Hyunjin. Maybe it's time you did something about it."
“Do what? He’s probably happy about Felix showering him with love,” Chan sighed heavily. “He might…oh fuck you,” he snorted at Minho’s intrigued grin.
"Might fall for his devilish charms?" Minho finished for him, his voice dripping with mock drama. "Come on, Chan. Hyunjin’s got eyes for someone else, even if he doesn’t know it yet."
Chan sighed, knowing Minho was referring to him. "I wish that were enough to stop me from feeling this way. I just hate feeling so... powerless."
Minho reached across the table, placing a reassuring hand over Chan's. "Listen, hyungie, what you’re feeling is totally normal. But you can’t control how Felix acts or how Hyunjin responds. What you can control is what you do next. How about you focus on showing Hyunjin just how much he means to you?"
"And how do I do that without spilling my guts and potentially ruining everything?" Chan asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
"Subtly, Channie. Subtly. Start with small things. Be there for him, make him laugh, and share more of those deep poetic thoughts you keep locked up in your brain...do it with him for once instead of drooling all over my food during lunch break,” he teased softly, pulling a small smile from him. “Build the connection you already have. Trust me; actions speak way louder than confessions thrown out during a moment of jealousy."
"But what if it ruins everything?" Chan’s voice was tinged with worry. "Our friendship, our living situation... I can't lose him, Minho."
Minho nodded, understanding the depth of his friend's fear. "I get it. But consider this—what if telling him opens up the chance for something amazing? You won’t know until you try. Besides, Hyunjin's a great guy; he won’t let this ruin your friendship."
Chan considered Minho's words, the fear mingling with a flicker of hope. "I... I don’t even know where to start."
"Start with the truth. Tell him how you feel, how you've been feeling. It’s not about Felix or anyone else. It’s about you and him," Minho advised, his tone gentle yet firm.
"And if he doesn’t feel the same?" Chan’s voice was barely a whisper now, the weight of his unspoken love heavy on his chest.
Minho’s face softened. "Then you’ll deal with it like the mature, sophisticated intellectuals that you are," he said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Seriously, Chan, honesty is terrifying but liberating. Hyunjin deserves to know, and you deserve to be honest with yourself and him."
Chan considered Minho's advice, feeling a semblance of a plan forming in his mind. "Maybe you're right. I just need to be patient and more... proactive."
"That's the spirit!" Minho exclaimed happily. "And who knows? Maybe Hyunjin is closer to seeing the truth than you think. You've got to give some credit to our boy; he's an artist, after all. He sees beauty where others see the ordinary."
“Talk about being poetic,” Chan giggled at him, and Min winked at him fondly.
The bell signaling the end of the break rang, pulling them back to the reality of their day. Minho stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Think about it, okay? I’m here no matter what happens. And who knows? Maybe Hyunjin is waiting for a sign from you."
Chan nodded, feeling a mix of dread and determination settling in his heart. "Thanks, Minho. For listening... and not making too much fun of me."
Minho laughed, pulling Chan into a brief, tight hug. "What are friends for if not to listen to your romantic worries and push you out of your comfort zone? Now, go inspire the future lovers and poets. And think about what you want to say to Hyunjin."
"Thanks, Minnie. Really," Chan said, feeling genuinely grateful for the pep talk.
"Anytime, Chan. Now fuck off and finally be the leading man of your own love story," Minho cheered, giving Chan a playful shove toward the door, giggling as the older flipped him off.
MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES
As their ways parted, his mind raced with possibilities and what-ifs. The thought of confessing his feelings to Hyunjin was daunting, but Minho's words echoed in his mind, a mantra of encouragement and challenge. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind their friendship and take a risk that could potentially change everything.
Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):
@atinyniki @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves
#stray kids#skz#chan#hyunjin#bang chan#hwang hyunjin#chan fic#chan au#chan fluff#chan angst#hyunjin angst#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin fic#hyunjin au#bang chan fic#bang chan fluff#bang chan angst#hwang hyunjin fic#hwang hyunjin angst#hwang hyunjin fluff#hyunchan#hyunchan fic#hyunchan fluff#hyunchan angst#stray kids fic#stray kids angst#stray kids fluff#skz fic#skz fluff#skz angst
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Straight from the Tortured Poets Department (Bang Chan x Reader)
Summary: It’s 1964 and Chan is well aware of his place in the world, and it is not with some upper class girl who’s way out of his league. That doesn’t stop either of them from falling in love.
Authors note: Sorry I haven’t updated for so long, I hope that this will make up for it. This is part one of a two part story. No warnings for this one, but part two will have smut. Anyways, get ready for some poetry, Taylor Swift references and overuse of the word babydoll. (Unrelated but Ateez Golden Hour is so so so amazing, I’m obsessed)
“Rich folk.” The man comments as he walks around the rich part of town. Looking around at the pillers of houses and multiple cars in the driveway, he whistles, “With a fence around every tree.” He kicks the metal bars around a tree lightly, the sound startling a few birds. He doesn’t end up in this neighborhood that often, but sometimes he zones out during his walks and finds himself here. That, or he is too busy running away from an angry shopkeeper or a policeman to focus on where he is going. He’s about to turn around to make his way back to town as he’s not welcomed by the upper class, but a little something catches his eye first. ‘I guess I can take a detour.’
Laying with her back on the soft grass of her backyard, Y/N takes in the warmth of the sun. Much more pleasant than the blinding white light of the hospital. After a long year, she finally got to come back to her home after exam season. It’s the very first beginning of May and she will not have to go back to school until September. She is happy to be back home, she lives in a more upscale neighborhood and is oftentimes left by her lonesome as her parents work all day. It doesn’t bother her. Her neighbors, Jongho and Seungmin, pay her visits frequently. They’re sweet and younger than her by some years. She answered all their questions about school, how long she would be back and whatever else they wanted to know.
The light breeze makes the wind chimes let out a lovely tune and she sighs. Nothing could ruin the serenity that she has built for herself.
Well, maybe it would be if she noticed that she was being watched. The metal fence surrounding the backyard is small, only reaching Chan’s hip. He admires the girl, viewing her as Persephone in her garden. It nearly feels criminal for him to even look at her. For a moment, he considers speaking to her but forces himself to take a step back instead. It nearly hurts him physically. Looking at her house, he sighs before leaving the neighborhood he is unwelcomed in. He’ll have to leave properly meeting her up to the cosmos.
Taking a nice walk is one of Y/N’s favourite ways to pass the time. She will walk to town and visit the bakery, florist and the pet store. The girl has always wanted a dog and oftentimes leaves food and water dishes out for the strays. Unfortunately, not many people are as caring as her. Hearing a crashing sound coming from the alley she is walking past, Y/N peers over and sees a few men her age throwing rocks and trash at a dog.
“Excuse me!” She announces herself with a steady voice. Once the men face her though, her sudden bravery disappears, “Um.. please don’t do such things…” her voice trails off and she shrinks into herself as their gazes become predatory. At least the dog ran off at this point.
“Well, aren’t you pretty broad?” One guy steps forward into her personal space, “I can tell we will have a good time.”
While Y/N can be stupid, she is smart enough to not stay around to figure out what he means. Within two seconds she is running down the street. Dreadfully, she can hear footsteps close behind. After running long enough to feel the burn in her legs, she reached a dead end in some alley. With nowhere else to turn, Y/N presses her back to the brick wall trapping her. Heart racing, she stares wide eyed as the men creep closer to her.
“Now, that’s no way to treat a lady.” The man closest to Y/N turns around, and is instantly punched by the new person to appear. Y/N watches the stranger as he beats the three men that chased her. She is not used to seeing much violence, but the way the stranger moves reminds her of a dance. Almost organized although chaotic. And he’s so handsome. His jawline is sharp and his biceps bulge in the confinement of his leather jacket. His clothes are dirty and his onyx hair is messy, but she finds it adds to her attraction to him. Oh, god forbid her father learns about her thoughts. After a few minutes, the stranger allows the bloody men to retreat, watching with a threatening gaze as they leave. When he faces the girl, it’s like the flame has been doused, as he looks softly at her.
“You alright, babydoll?” Ignoring the blush that comes from the nickname, Y/N nods. “I-yes. Yes I am, thank you. Are you?” Stepping closer to him, she notices his knuckles are bleeding. Without a second thought she grabs his hand and examines it, “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No it’s not. You’re bleeding because of me. Allow me to take care of you.” Guilt overcomes Y/N. Even with the knowledge that he must have been a number of fights to be able to handle himself so well.
“Doll, it’s fine. I can’t feel a thing.”
“I insist.” She is firm on her stance and starts to walk out of the alleyway, “Come along now.” And like a loyal dog, the man follows. She leads them to a little store that Chan has never stepped foot into, which is a good thing. He would hate to be recognized by a shopkeeper and be called a criminal in front of a girl he will soon be going out with. It’s weird, Chan has never felt an instant pull like this towards anything. Such a strong feeling of need. He felt it the first time he saw her and it only becomes more intense with every word she says.
When she’s buying the bandages, he is bashful. Keeping his head down as the girl thanks the cashier. Afterwards, she leads him to a empty bench nearby. All while Chan ensures that he is along the outside of the sidewalk.
“So what’s your name?” Y/N asks as she starts to wrap his right hand. He completely forgot he never introduced himself.
“Chan.”
“I’m Y/N.” She finishes bandaging his hand but doesn’t bother wrapping up the other one since it was barely bleeding. Chan flexes his right hand, “You did this really well.”
“I would hope so. I'm a nursing student.” Y/N laughs, “I’m here on my break for a few months, but I go to school towns away.” She lets go of him and Chan hums a melodic sound. “So you’re smart aren’t you?” He smiles, crossing his arms, “Too smart to be wasting time with a guy like me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Chan simply shakes his head with a smile, standing up and offering his arm to the girl. Y/N grasps the crook of his elbow and he leads them out to the sidewalk.
“Nothing.” The man looks up at the sky. It's only mid afternoon and bright outside. He’s surprised Y/N nearly got attacked in daylight, “Just- if I were to ask you to waste your day with me, would you say yes?” She smiles, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“As a matter of fact, I would. But what would we do?” Chan stands up, wearing a handsome grin on his face.
“Go on a little adventure. You in?” He holds out his hand to her and it only takes a second for Y/N to take it.
They end up wandering through a park, Y/N admiring the flowers as Chan admires her. Y/N has gotten a closer look at Chan and noticed that his clothes are stained and he has a few light scars on his hands and a faded one on his neck. She wonders how many fights Chan has got in, he doesn’t seem like a very violent person. Even when he was beating up those men. Chan is older than Y/N by a few years, him being twenty five and her twenty. He does many odd job, but works as a bartender. Chan refrained from telling her he makes shit from it since he lives above the bar for next to nothing.
“So Chan, is there any reason you asked me to spend the day with you?” She’s holding onto Chan’s arm with one of her hands, unconsciously rubbing her fingertips on the creases of his leather jacket.
“There is.” The man leads them towards a water fountain and they sit down on the edge, “I wander and strain to hear the movement of the stars above our encounter and what if you are to be my fate..” Chan finishes the verse with a smile, “The Encounter by Vladimir Nabokov.” Y/N is left in a state of bewilderment from Chan’s words.
“I did not take you as the type to know, well, any poetry.” Letting out an awkward laugh, Y/N looks down at her Mary Jane’s. Chan isn’t offended, he is rough around the edges and appears much more feral than he is.
“I always have. The poem was written for Nabokov’s wife hours after he met her.” He lifts Y/N’s head up with a gentle hold on her chin, “Maybe you are to be my fate. I think so. ” Y/N doesn’t notice that he said that as if he’s seen her before today.
“Why is that?” The girl smiles softly and Chan pulls away from her, dipping his hand in the fountain.
“I am heaven strucked.” He said the words so quietly, Y/N didn’t even hear them. And before Y/N can question him more, Chan lifts his unbandaged hand and flicks water on her. He laughs when he sees her flinch.
“Rude.” Forming a cup with her hands, she scoops up some water and quickly pours it on Chan’s head. To retaliate, Chan splashes her and Y/N shouts slightly as she stands, grabbing the attention of a few others at the park. The man pays them no mind as gets up.
“Let’s get outta here doll. I think I saw a candy shop nearby.”
And that continues throughout the week. Y/N will run into Chan while she is out and about and they will go do something together. Chan walks her home since her parents are out of town for a month. Not that Y/N is ashamed of Chan being her friend, but her parents are rather protective. Especially when it comes to boys. It explains why she has never been on a date before. Chan found it funny when she told him that.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing babydoll?”
“No, we have to be a couple to be dating.” He leaned closer to her at that moment, the corner of his lips curved up in a smirk, “And what would I have to do to make that happen?” After watching her struggle for a few moments, he placed a quick kiss on her cheek.
“You’d have to meet my parents.” Y/N finally answered and Chan’s smile had faltered. Y/N didn’t know that it was because Chan believed that he would not be approved of.
“Hello Channie.” Y/N greets the man with a grin on her face, resting her hand on the doorframe of the front door.
“Hey pretty girl.” Chan reaches out and twirls a stray lock of hair around his finger, “I like your hair up. You should style it like this more.” Y/N makes sure to remember that.
“What are you doing here?”
“We’re going to that old movie you mentioned yesterday.”
“Old yeller? You’ll really go with me.” He shrugs.
“ As long as you’re happy, doll.” Y/N blushes. He has to stop saying things like that before she completely burns up. She looks past Chan’s shoulder and sees a car. A white thunderbird.
“I borrowed it from a friend.” It was easy to convince Changbin to lend him the car. He simply explained he needed it for a pretty dame.“Ah okay.” She steps out, closing and locking the door behind her, “I will enjoying seeing you cry.” “I’m not going to cry.” Chan opens the passenger door for her.
“You are.”
“Told you.” “Shut up.” Y/N grins and leans across the console, wiping Chan’s tears. “How are you fine?” Y/N shrugs.
“I read the book, so I was prepared. Don’t worry, I was much more of a wreck than you are now.” She tries to place a firm kiss on his cheek but he moves his head, so she ends up kissing the corner of his lips. After pulling away she bashfully looks out the window and avoids eye contact.
“I’d love to have a dog.” Chan says out of nowhere, “As long as I didn’t have to kill ‘em like in the movie.” He shivers at the thought, “I have a name picked out and everything.”
“Oh really, what is it?”
“Berry.” He fakes an offended expression when Y/N laughs, “ What? It works for a boy or girl.”“No, it’s cute.” The next movie of the night starts but neither of them care to pay attention, “So a dog named Berry. What else do you see in your future?”
“You.” His answer is instant, and Y/N’s face turns red. The air in the thunderbird becomes thicker and she just noticed how close Chan really is to her.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He hesitates for a moment, but leans closer to her. Eyes closed, Y/N feels Chan’s lips barely brush against hers. Her mouth parts and just as Chan is about to kiss her, a scream makes both of them jump. It’s only one of the characters on the screen but the moment is already ruined.
“Hey I’m- I’m gonna go grab a soda. Be right back.”
“Wait.” He shoved a five dollar bill in her hands. Much more than enough
“Thank you.” She quickly gets out of the car. Groaning, he rests his head on the steering wheel. It’s not like him to be so down bad for someone, but he’s starting to feel like he might as well just die if he doesn’t have the girl.
“Fuck.”
Y/N actually did want something to drink so it’s not like she was lying. She got a coke for Chan too. Hopefully the rest of the night won’t be awkward. Just as she is about to leave, she hears someone call her name.
“Y/N? That you?” Turning around, she sees San, a boy she went to go to high school with.
“San!” She exclaims, giving him a hug the best she can with her hands occupied, “Lovely seeing you, how’s school?”
“Going good. You?”
“It’s just fine.” He looks down at the two cups in her hands.
“Now, who are you here with?” Y/N has always admired how straight forward he is.
“My friend.”
“Who, someone from school?”
“No no.” San suddenly smirks, making her confused, “Why are you-“
“Hello baby.”
Arms wrapped around Y/N’s waist, she feels herself being pulled against a man’s chest. Blood rushes to her face and San doesn’t have to speak for her to know he’s teasing her. She’s so embarrassed she barely registers Chan taking one of the cup’s from her hand.
“Hey man.” San greets, a knowing glint in his eye, “Miss.Y/N here was just telling me about you. Choi San.”
“Chan.” He sounds pleasant, but Y/N can feel the tension in the older man’s chest, “How do you know my girl?”
My girl. The words echo in Y/N’s ears. Her heart flutters at the meer thought of being Chan’s.
“We- we went to school together.” Y/N says softly as Chan rubs his thumb just above the waist line of her skirt.
“It’s cool Chan.” San smiles, “I’m not into your lady like that. Just friends. I’ll see you around Y/N, let’s catch up sometime.”
“Of course.” San walks away and Chan holds Y/N’s free hand with his own.
“Let’s go.” He starts to lead her outside.
“Were you nervous around San?” Y/N asks him, earning a confused glance from Chan, “You were all tensed up.” Shaking his head, he grins.“No. Not that.” Y/N thinks about it for another second, before she grins. “You were jealous weren’t you?” He laughs, “What, you were getting ready to beat the man?”
“Only if he touched you again.” Y/N tsks as the get inside the car.
“We’re old friends. Besides, you shouldn’t be so quick to pick a fight.” She grabs Chan’s hand and lifts it while resting her elbow on the middle console, “Look at these scars. That’s all fighting is gonna get you. You’re gonna break something.”
“Isn’t that why I have you, Nurse Y/N? To fix me?” She sighs, putting down their arms.
“I will try my best too.” Chan reaches over and cups the nape of her neck.
“You’ve been doing pretty good so far.” He doesn’t elaborate on how she makes him want to better himself. Become someone worthy of her time.
If Y/N heard his thoughts, she would be quick to deny. Chan does not have to change in any way.
When the movie ends, Chan drives Y/N back to her house. He walks her to the door, but the girl doesn’t make a move to go inside. She faces Chan and grabs one of his hands.
“So.” She starts, face heating up, “Am I your girl?” Chan seems confused fora second, before he lets out a small laugh.
“Yeah babydoll.” Placing his hands on her waist, he pulls her closer to him, “As long as I’m your man.” Instead of answering with words, Y/N takes a tiny step forward. Hands on Chan’s shoulders, she leans up on her tiptoes.
“What about your parents?” Chan whispers, glancing at the house they’re infront of, “I thought you wanted me to meet them first.”
“I don’t care anymore.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, Y/N sighs, “I only want you, my dear.” The endearment makes Chan lose all sense of self control he had. He kisses her softly at first, to give her the feel of it. Odds are he’s her first kiss. The thought makes his hold on her waist tighten, as if she will fly away if he doesn’t.
Tilting his head, he deepens their kiss, running his tongue over her lower lip. Y/N could swear he moaned a bit. When Chan pulls away, Y/N sees that his face is flushed and he smiles shyly. Cute. Y/N steps away from the man and quickly unlocks the front door. Stepping inside, she turns to the other.
“Goodnight Chan.”
“Night doll.”
“Sorry this isn’t so fancy.” Chan apologizes to Y/N as she looks around the diner. As much as he would love to bring her to a nicer place, he simply can’t afford to.
“Oh it’s charming.” The diner is small and quaint. Very colourful too. The booth they sit at is baby blue and the stools at the front are bright red. The large windows give them a view outside. Specifically of a couple birds hopping around and looking for crumbs, “Just like you.” Getting Chan flustered is one of her favourite hobbies Y/N decided, much to Chan’s dismay. He lifts up the menu to cover his face, making her laugh.
Y/N takes a forkful off her cake, chocolate of course, and holds it across the table up to Chan’s lips. He instantly opens his mouth and takes the bite of the desert. It would normally be a little sweet for his tastes, but he has a newfound fondness for sweet things.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” He swallows and shakes his head.
“All good here.” He looks past Y/N’s shoulder, “Wait one sec.” Chan gets up and Y/N watches as he makes his way to the jukebox at the back wall. He flips through the records until he finally decides on one. Can’t help falling in love with you plays throughout the diner.
When he is infront of Y/N, he dramatically bows with one arm at his back, the other wrapped around his front.
“May I have this dance, Y/N?” She has to conceal a laugh at how serious he sounds. He barely ever uses her name, preferring to go for a nickname ever since they first met.
“Here?” Y/N looks around. The diner is mostly empty, but she still finds it embarrassing to do such things in public. When Chan urges her by holding out his hand, she takes the last bite of her cake before accepting it. Chan pulls her up and puts her hand on his shoulder, his own going to her waist. Their free hands are held up and linked. Chan starts to lead her into a dance.
“My my Channie, where did you learn to dance?”
“I picked up a few things throughout the years.” He spins her and when he brings Y/N back to him, she rests her head against his shoulder.
“Are you moving back here when you’re done school?” Chan asks after a few quiet moments. Y/N lifts her head and looks at him.
“I don’t really have any other choice.” Their swaying slowly now, not acknowledging the song change, “Everything is here. My house, my family, you.” She says the last word quietly. Chan pulls her closer to his chest and lets go of her hand to hold her waist.
“I’d follow you anywhere.” Y/N laughs at how outrageous he is.
“This is our first date.”
“First of many.” Chan rebutted and Y/N would be lying if she protested.
“You’re such a romantic, Chan dear.”
“I can be even more romantic.” He gestures to the door, “Let’s get out of here.”
Chan leads her to a somewhat small hill and holds her hand as they start walking up it. Once they get to the top, they sit down on the grass under a cherry blossom tree.
“I’ve been looking for a job.” Chan breaks the silence, leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree, bark slightly digging into his scalp.
“I thought you already had one.”
“I need a better one.” He sighs, “The one I have pays shi-“ He stops himself, “Now that I have you, it’s not enough anymore. It barely was to start with.” Y/N hums.
“I’m happy for you.” She thinks of his words for another second, confusion growing, “What do you mean ‘now that I have you’?”
“You’re mine, are you not?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” Chan lifts his head and looks at her properly.
“Babydoll, as of now it’s my job to take care of you. Provide for you. I don’t want your life to be less than you deserve just because you chose to be with me-“
“Hold it.” Y/N slaps her hand against Chan’s mouth, “If you think I’ll be any less happy with you, you're truly mistaken. Money has nothing to do with that.” She moves her hand and Chan stares at her for a second, before he grins a boyish smile.
“Still. I don’t want to be jumping people for twenty bucks just so I can take you on a date.”
“You rob people?” It shouldn’t be surprising, but Chan’s personality doesn’t come off as someone who looks to fight. Chan looks amused though.
“I’m not a great person, doll.” Y/N thinks for a moment, not really minding if Chan steals or robs. It’s what some people have to do.
“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyways.” Upon hearing the quote, Chan smiles. He leans over and kisses her cheek before wrapping his arm around her. “That would take too long.” Y/N leans her head down on his shoulder, “Besides, I’m leaving all that behind me.” Become as amazing as you are. He doesn’t say the words, but lets the thought linger. Chan would change himself a hundred times over to be what Y/N should have.
“Speaking of leaving…” Y/N starts, tugging at the bottom of Chan’s jacket, “I’m leaving town at the end of summer. You’ll- you’ll wait for me, won’t you?”
Chan doesn’t answer. He lifts Y/N’s head up and cups her face, bringing his head down to kiss her. It’s not nearly as soft as the first time, making both of them lose their breath.
“We already established you’re mine.” He whispers between kisses, “I’m yours.” He kisses her neck, making Y/N shiver from the unfamiliar contact, “I’d wait for years if I needed to. You’re my fate, remember?” Another kiss on her neck.
“Yeah.” A large hand is placed on her thigh as Chan starts to nip at her neck, free hand tangling into her hair. Suddenly, the chirping of nightingales and the sounds of crickets disappears and all there is, is Chan.
It’s not until his hand rides a little higher, does Y/N come back to reality. She flinches and grabs Chan’s hand, making him pull away. Before she can talk, Chan starts apologizing.
“I’m sorry.” “No it’s-“ “It’s not okay. It’s unacceptable. I’m sorry.” Silence fills the air around them for a few moments. Chan didn’t mean to get carried away. Y/N just makes him a little out of control, though that gives no excuse.
“I can help you. Look for a job, I mean.” Chan’s happy for any break of their awkward silence.
“Really?”
“Yeah. If that’s what you want.”
“Thanks babydoll.”
#stray kids oneshot#stray kids fic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fluff#stray kids smut#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpop fluff#stray kids#bang chan#chan#christopher bahng#chan fluff#bang chris#bang chan fluff#chan x reader#bang chan x reader#1960s#skz fanfic#skz#fluff#poetry
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
pieces of you
single dad!chan. x fem!reader
genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc
summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.
a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!
winter falls masterlist.
i.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
“Shh, daddy smile.”
Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation.
A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.
“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.
“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.
“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.
“Your dad?”
“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.
“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head.
“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.
She isn't shy because she feels protected.
You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.
He’s beautiful.
Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.
“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.
“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.
“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice.
“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.
“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly.
“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.
“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”
“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.”
“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.
“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.
“Yn. And you?”
“Chris.”
“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.
Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.”
Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.
“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants.
Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.
“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”
“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back.
“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.
“Touché.”
A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.
“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you.
“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”
“You don’t know how to make them?”
“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.
“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.”
“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.
“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.
Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.
“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”
“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”
“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around.
An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.
One hour later
You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.
“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back.
“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.
“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.
“You made them?”
“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.
“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.
“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.
“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.
“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.
“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two.
“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.
“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.”
“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.
“I…. I'll get going.”
“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”
“I'll see you around.”
“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.
ii.
“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.
You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.
You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.
“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.
“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.
“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.”
“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.”
The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.
“I can text you the address?” you propose.
“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.
“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.
“She insists on trying her makeup on me.”
“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.
“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.
“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.
“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”
“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.
“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.
“She can be very scary for such a little girl.”
“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror.
“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.
“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?
“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.”
“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.
“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.”
And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.
“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.
“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.”
☃︎⋆꙳•❅
“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.
“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.
“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.
“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”
“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”
You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.
“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.
Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.
Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?
“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.
“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.
“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.”
“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”
“Will you watch a movie later with me?”
“Of course, baby.”
“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.
“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”
“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.
“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it?
Your facade cracks. His voice wins.
“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.”
iii.
You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.
“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.
“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.
“Just with salt?”
“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.
Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.
It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.
“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.
“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.
“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.
“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.
He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?”
“We? You were behind my back all the time.”
“I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”
“I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”
“You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”
“I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”
“Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.
And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.
“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.
“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.
“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”
“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.
It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.
“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.
“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head.
“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.”
“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.
“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.
“The company.”
“I do find Sowon entertaining.”
“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.
“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”
“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”
“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.”
“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.
“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.
He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.
Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.
One week later.
You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.
“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.
“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm.
“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.
“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.
“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”
“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.
“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”
“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.
“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.
“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.
“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.
“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”
“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.
“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.
“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.
“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.
Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.
“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.
“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.
“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.
“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.
The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.
“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.
You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.
“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.
“Will she be okay?”
“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?”
“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.
"She looks just like you," you softly smile.
"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.
“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.
“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.
You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.
A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.
You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.
The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.
Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.
"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.
“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.
“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.
“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”
“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”
“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.”
“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.
“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.”
“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.
“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”
You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.
“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.
“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.”
Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.
Five days later.
chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?
yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years
chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs
chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ
chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired
yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?
chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring
You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.
“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.
“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”
“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.”
“Can I read what you wrote?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”
May these words be the first to find your ears
The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here
I'll give you everything I have
I'll teach you everything I know
I promise I'll do better
I will soften every edge
I'll hold the world to its best
And I'll do better
Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.
“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.
Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?”
“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.”
His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.
“Talk to me?”
“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.”
Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.
“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.”
Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?
“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.
“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”
You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.
“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.”
He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.
“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”
“Is that what she told you that movie night?”
“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.
“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.
You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.
“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?”
“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.”
“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.
“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.
“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.
connected.mp3 starts playing.
Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you.
You wished to be the only one Chris liked.
“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.
So, you put on your best taunting smirk.
“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”
He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.
“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.
“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.
“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”
"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.
“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.
“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.
“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.
“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper.
“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.
To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it.
You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.
You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.”
Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.
iv.
You’re avoiding him.
Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.
Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.
He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.
He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.
He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.
He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.
How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?
“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.
“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.
“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.
“I don't know, baby.”
“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.
“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”
“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.
“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!”
“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?”
“Okay!”
In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.
So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner.
“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.
“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.
“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.
“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”
Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.
And then you speak.
“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”
“Of course, always.”
“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“
“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.
He’s as scared as you are.
“Chris…”
“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”
“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.
“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”
He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I'm staying.”
“You are?”
“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.
“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.
“Thank you for asking me to stay.”
“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”
“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.
“What happened to connected Chris?”
“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”
Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.
“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”
“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”
“Good night, yn.”
You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.
you win.
“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.
Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”
He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.
bonus (one year later).
“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.
“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.
“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.
“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”
“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.
“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.
It's her first time calling you mom.
You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"
“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”
“What happened to being a stylist?”
“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently.
“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.
In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.
He’ll propose to you tomorrow.
#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids angst#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#skz imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids reactions#skz angst#skz fanfic#chan fluff#chan x reader#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz au
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
ten things bang chan says when he thinks you’re asleep — fluff, established relationship, a tinge of angst
CHAN | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin
one. you know what i realized lately? i've been sleeping better. i think it started on the first night you moved in with me. i didn't know sleep could come so easy until i had you next to me. it's really nice to wake up and find you in my arms, too. and i think—i think i wouldn't mind doing this for the rest of my life.
two. your hair is longer these days. i think it suits you a lot, but i think i love it more because it's easier to run my fingers through your hair when you fall asleep on my lap this way, easier to play with them.
three. you used my shampoo today. i don't know why, but that made me love you even more than i did yesterday. maybe it's because my life feels so intertwined with yours this way. you feel closer to me like this. yeah, that must be why.
four. you've worked really really hard to get this far, and it shows. i'm so proud of you, angel. you're doing a great job.
five. i'm learning to love myself more because of you. thank you for loving me as i am. thank you for loving me when i thought i wasn't lovable. i promise i will love myself the way that you love me. promise you'll do the same for me?
six. i'm sorry if i get too in my head sometimes. i'm sorry if i don't listen when you tell me to take breaks. i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry. please stay with me. i promise i'm trying. i really am trying.
seven. a song called 'grows old' played on the radio today. it made me think of you. please also hold my heart until it grows old.
eight. you deserve a place in this world. i'm sorry it made you think for a moment that you didn't, but you deserve to take up your spot. someone's life is better because of you, my life is better because you're in it. i've been learning to appreciate small joys because of you. i love you.
nine. if there's no one to lean on, i'm always here.
ten. one day, i'll marry you.
#k-labels#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#chan x reader#bang chan x reader#chan x y/n#skz x reader#skz x you#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#chan fluff#bang chan fluff#bang chan fanfic#stray kids drabbles#stray kids blurbs#stray kids reactions#chan drabble#stray kids chan drabbles#stray kids chan blurbs#kpop fluff#kpop imagines#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#kpop scenarios#bang chan scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#chan scenarios
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・741 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive themes so mdni / 𝗮/𝗻・inspired by our beautiful boy's bbl texts about the nylon shoot. he is so loved. i hope he knows it ♡
𝟬𝟵:𝟬𝟵 — Chan is nervous.
He doesn’t say so out loud. He doesn’t say anything out loud, actually, simply appearing in the kitchen to pluck a slice of toast off the counter. Damp curls dripping into the towel slung around his neck, brushing against your cheek when he leaves a good morning kiss there.
But there’s a squareness in his shoulders. A muted glaze over the brown of his eyes and a tightness in the smile he gives you as he pulls away. The images linger in your vision after he disappears back down the hallway, presumably to get ready for the big day ahead.
Words. There are times when they embrace Chan like orchestral musicians awaiting their conductor’s cue, like sunflowers swiveling eastward in the halcyon morning—but there are other times when they haunt him, like the faceless sea of spectators instead of the hopeful performers, like the shadows that comprise the fathomless night rather than the rays of sun that follow.
You rise out of your seat, a quiet sigh leaving your lips. Chan needs the sun, today.
Inside your bedroom, Chan’s towel sits atop your duvet, right beside the white material of the T-shirt he slept in. The bathroom door is ajar and spilling yellow light onto the hardwood. You nudge it open further.
Free to roam after the towel’s removal, transparent waterdrops pave silvery trails down the sides of Chan’s neck, over the gentle incline of his collarbones and the naked hills of his chest. His palms are pressed flat on either side of the sink, his eyes glued to the mirror before him, his jaw set as squarely in his reflection as it is on his person.
He jumps when your reflection joins his. Parts his lips, prepares to speak. But his whole vernacular evaporates when your hands find his waist, when your breath hits the nape of his neck.
“Baby,” he breathes.
There’s a question embedded in the word. The only answer you give him is the quiet drag of your fingertips down the center of his back. He expels an involuntary shudder, and with it the muscles beneath your touch shift like fields of marigolds tousled by a kindred breeze.
You kiss the highest ridge of his spine, letting your lips linger against the smooth skin for a few moments before doing the same, just below his ear.
“What—” He pauses, swallows. “What are you doing, angel?”
When your hands return to his hips, they request something this time. He complies, lets you turn him around, his lower back meeting the marble with a soft bump.
You bring yourself close to him. Close enough to gauge his blushing cheeks and trembling breath and brown, brown eyes, crossed from trying to look at you. Close enough that you only need slightly dip your head to mould your lips to the hollow right under his jaw.
He moans, the sound melodic and low and quickly muffled by the lower lip he bites down upon. You suck lightly, careful not to leave a mark yet entirely fine with the alternative, then graze your teeth over the tender skin, pull away. You don’t go far, though, as your next destination is his Adam’s apple, which you reach not by boat or by plane but by short, wet kisses that resound in the silent bathroom, that draw from Chan’s throat another gorgeous whine.
As you progress in this fashion, traipsing across the plane of his clavicle, the valley of his pectorals, you want to tell him that he’s beautiful.
He’s beautiful when he laughs so hard that his smile turns boxy and his voice gets all squeaky. He’s beautiful when he’s trying not to cry and his eyes look like mirror pools because he’s failing. He’s beautiful in front of the cameras; he’s beautiful away from them. He’s beautiful always, your Chan, your Chris.
That is what you want to tell him.
But you don’t. Not even when his back hits the mattress moments later and he looks like your every wildest dream come to life underneath you: pupils blown so wide that they’ve swallowed his irises, lips glistening and quivering and inconceivably kissable as he sighs your name, chiseled upper body rippling when he props himself up on his elbows. Straining to look at you as you lower your mouth to his navel, undo the knot of his sweatpants with a gentle tug.
You’ll show him instead.
🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz・@hyunverse
© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡
#bang chan fluff#bang chan x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#skz x reader#skz fluff#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#bang chan imagines#chan x reader#chan fluff#chan imagines#bang chan x you#bang chan scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#stray kids soft hours#*writing#*drabble#*d: chan#k-labels#i think my favorite genre of fanfiction to write ever is. when the boys are being admired and loved for the beautiful people they are#and i think it shows
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
texting channie when he's back in australia
Pairing: chan x gn!reader
Warnings: none that i can think of
a/n: I thought all these little text convos w skz were so cute so I made one as well since channie is in australia now… lemme know if u like this type of content!!
#skz texts#stray kids texts#chan texts#stray kids x reader#skz drabbles#skz x y/n#bang chan x reader#chan fluff#chan x reader#bang chan fluff#bangchan x reader#chan x y/n#skz smau#skz fake texts#kpop x reader#skz x reader#stray kids smau#bang chan smau#bang chan texts
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
MAD. w/ BANG CHAN.
18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
pairing: bang chan x female reader
genre + warnings: established relationship, fluffy, smut mdni!,
wc: 1.7k
mad master list here ; other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.
“Please! Can we go out?” You tugged at your boyfriend’s shirt.
You and Chan were tangled up on the couch on a Friday afternoon. When he had told you his afternoon was free you were quick to straddle his lap, begging for him to take you out. He laughs at your eagerness while he was laying on his back with one arm under his head, the other caressing your thigh.
“I have to wake up early tomorrow. Can’t we just stay home? We can play some games and order in,” he tried to convince you.
“But you’re finally free for the afternoon and we have like..” you counted your fingers “.. we have like 7 hours before you can wind down..” you begged with a pout.
“Or we can do something else for 7 hours baby,” he suggested with a smirk, inching his hand up higher on your thigh.
“But I got this pretty dress—” you huffed; you didn’t want to take no for an answer.
“—Then go out by yourself,” Chan sharply replied, removing his hand from you to join the other one under his head. You can tell he wasn’t serious evidently by his smile, but you were.
“Maybe I should.”
“Good.. I get to rest more without you on me,” he scoffed, playfully.
“Pffffft, you want me on you!” You rolled your eyes.
“Not today baby. Go.” he flickers his eyes to the front door then back at you.
“Fine.”
You got off him and went into your shared bedroom, sitting on the bed in silence. You were waiting for him follow you and maybe change his mind about not going but he never entered the bedroom. You rolled your eyes and decided to check what he was up to, slowly opening the door to peek, only to see him asleep, his cheeks was pressed up against the surface of the couch.
“Gosh..” you smiled at your sleep-deprived boyfriend. He looked so worn out, so cute like this, you know you couldn’t force him out..
..But you were still longing to get out, itching for a boost of confidence. You had just ordered a pretty dress online and it finally arrived. You wanted to wear it, wanted to doll up since all you have been in the past couple of weeks was Chan’s big t-shirt and sweatpants feeling a little ugly.
You sat back on your bed again, pondering what you should do with the rest of your day, what you should do to make you feel better.
You pulled out your phone, dialling a number. “Hey, you wanna go out S/GF/N?”
While your boyfriend was still passed out, you got ready to go out with the girlfriends of the other boys and threw in a quick nap. You straighten your hair, put on your make up before slipping on the dress. It was just a simple black halter body-con dress, but you felt extremely sexy in it.
It was 7pm by the time you were done with everything. You strutted out with a pair of high heels towards your boyfriend who had just woken up, occupied on his phone.
“Hey baby, how was your sleep?” You ask softly, bending down to give him a peck on his cheek.
“Good,” he says pulling you onto his lap as he sat up.
He locks his phone before looking up at you, gasping at your appearance.
His eyes widen, travelling from your shoulders down the curve of your body to your legs then back up to your pretty face. He found you extremely sexy like this, not that he never thought you weren’t. But it’s also been a while since he saw you all dressed up.
“Woah.. Where.. Where you going pretty girl?” He stuttered.
“Out! Gonna go clubbing!” You say cheerfully, wrapping your arms around him while his drops around your waist.
“Y/N, were you serious?” He was taken off guard at your quick reply.
“Yeah, I told you I wanted to go out,” a hint of desideration showing.
“Baby— but with who?” It was his turn to whine now.
“With the girls now since you didn’t want to go,” you teased him and Chan shoots you a guilty smile. “I wanted to be pretty today. My pretty dress finally arrived.. Look,” your hand smooths over the hem of your dress before pointing at the neckline, showing it off to your boyfriend.
“You are pretty, always will be baby,” he says caressing your arm and looking up at you in adoration. “Now I’m mad.. at myself.”
He’s mad at himself. He feels like a bad boyfriend not registering your cues of you wanting to feel and look pretty. He retraces back to the past couples of week how you have been cooped up in his apartment in nothing but lounge wear, you couldn’t even dress yourself up for work since you work from home. Although you have always been the prettiest to him, he understands how you feel. You were just a girl, his girl.
“Why?”
“That I’m going to be home by myself now while my pretty girlfriend will be out in this sexy dress.. all because I didn’t know she wanted to feel pretty,” his eyes traces down your body one more time, feeling his start to get flushed.
“Is it too late?” he genuinely asked.
You laugh. “Mhmm, the other girls are ready to go.”
“You really going to leave me like this?” He looked down to the area you weren’t quite sitting on, indicating to something that was growing hard, but you just laugh. You were already running behind, so he just has to suck it up and wait till you come back so you can take care of him.
“I’ll let you kiss me, but I will have to leave you like this,” He smiled at you before pulling your face closer, letting your lips finally touch each other. He deepens the kiss quickly and you let him have his way for a little bit until pulling back completely.
“Can I’ll drop you?”
“Are you sure?” You didn’t want to bother him. After seeing him pressed up against the couch exhausted, you feel guilty because he never has time to himself.
“Of course! I would love to do my boyfriend duties for my baby.”
You had blast to be very honest. You have never felt this sexy and confident in a while. And to feel this way all night with the best of your friends was very special to you. You enjoyed girls night alot, but there were moments where you missed Chan. But you knew he was going to be home waiting for you so you just had to wait till the end of the night to see him again.
“How was it?” He asked the second you got into his car.
“It was fun. We drank and danced alot and.. I missed you heaps,” you slurred cheerfully, drunk and a little horny.
“Missed me?” He smirked.
“Mhmm, missed you Channie,” you pouted reaching out for his hand.
“Gotta go home first..” he says as he lets you hold his hand. “Gotta go home first and then I’ll let you show me how much you missed me.” He gives you a flirty glance and pull his hand to your lips, pecking the back of it.
“How did you feel though?”
“I feel sexy, Channie,” you confess.
“I’m happy to hear that. You look so extremely sexy tonight baby,” he complimented, making sure you know he acknowledges your feelings.
Once you got home, he instantly drags you into the bedroom, pushing you to sit in the bed.
“Missed you so much..” he crouches down and steady himself by his hands on either side of you. “I can’t believe I rather sleep than go out with you today..” planted a kiss to your shoulder making you giggle. “..I’m such bad boyfriend..” he continues and you nod.
“Such a bad boyfriend for my good Y/N,” he kisses your other shoulder before pushing you down on the bed.
“Hmm, you’re such a bad boyfriend,” you jokingly agreed, pulling him ontop of you as you make space for him in between your legs.
“You gonna let me make it up to you?” His hands inches up your thigh, bunching up your dress.
“Yes Chan please. Make it up to me..” you couldn’t wait any longer now, practically whining underneath him. “Just wanted to be pretty for you today..” you say breathless and he starts to nip the skin on your neck.
“No.. no more…” you whimpered as he pulls outs of you. You were out of breath, close to blacking out.
“Okay okay.. shhh shh.. that was last one, my pretty girl..” Chan comforted you after coating 5 orgasms out of you. He wiped you down before throwing the towel away, pulling you into his chest.
“Ohh— is it 5 already?” He questioned after glancing at the alarm clock which made you look up to confirm.
It has been 4 hours since he peeled your dress off you. And although you were wrecked, it was worth every second.
“I got no sleep.. Gotta call off practice,” he says and your face immediately lits up. The tiredness gone the second you know he was finally going to be home on a Saturday morning. He smiles at you before reaching out for his phone and unlocking it.
Chan Practice cancelled for today
Seungmin Why?
Chan Gotta deal with Y/N
You watch as he converses with his group members. “Okay but then thats makes me seem annoying,” you complain and he looks down at you.
“She’s sick?” He chuckles, with a raised eyebrow.
“But then I don’t want them to think you took the day off just because I’m hung over,” you complained again, with a fake pout.
“Should I just tell them the truth then?” He suggests, placing a kiss to your forehead. “Tired from fucking Y/N since she came back from the clubs,” he says and you playfully hit his chest getting all shy at how he blew your back just a couple minutes ago.
“They all will understand. I’m sure they missed their girlfriends too,” he said, throwing away his phone and pushing your head in his chest so you can finally rest.
“Since I’m home today baby..” he starts, and you hummed. “What do you want to do when we wake up?”
{🏷️ Taglist for this series: @lolareadsimagines }
#becomingmina#skz#stray kids#skz smut#stray kids smut#bang chan#chan smut#skz requests#bang chan smut#Chris smut#mad series#chan suggestive#bang cahn suggestive#chan fluff#bang chan fluff
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Stripper! Reader x Business Man! Lee Chan
Synopsis: Workaholic Lee Chan's Friday night takes an unexpected turn when he joins friends at a strip club, only to find himself captivated by you, a dancer he can't seem to stay away from. Despite his reservations, Chan finds himself drawn to your company, booking time with you night after night.
Word Count: 8.8k
Warnings: Strangers to lovers, smut, mentions of alcohol, strip clubs, money throwing, booking, fluff, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), riding, g'spot stimulation, clit stimulation, male sensitivity.
Request: Yes
Lee Chan held the weight of being the CEO of the imperium that his dad left at a very young age. Frat parties, hanging out, late-night talks? Nah, not for him. He had to take care of the company and honor the inheritance that fell into his lap. His co-workers could remember very well the times that Chan walked around and around his office, shoulders tense as if he carried the world on them.
His days started early and ended late, filled with back-to-back meetings, strategy sessions, and endless paperwork. The once carefree and spirited young man had transformed into a focused and driven leader, his every move calculated to ensure the success and stability of the company.
Chan's office was a testament to his dedication—shelves lined with business books, awards, and framed photos of his father, a constant reminder of the legacy he was determined to uphold. The large windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, but Chan rarely had time to enjoy it. He was always too engrossed in his work, too preoccupied with the responsibilities that consumed his every waking moment.
Even though his life felt like being stuck in traffic on a rainy day, Chan couldn't deny that he loved the results of his hard work. He looked at the luxurious cars parked in his garage—sleek, powerful machines that represented the pinnacle of automotive engineering.
His closet was a veritable treasure trove of sartorial excellence. Different types of watches, ties, suits, and shoes from every high-end brand imaginable filled the space, each piece carefully chosen to reflect his impeccable taste and status. The feel of finely crafted leather shoes, the weight of a bespoke suit on his shoulders, the precision of an intricate timepiece on his wrist—all these were constant reminders of what he had achieved.
Chan's wealth allowed him to indulge in the kind of extravagances most people could only dream of. He could spend an exaggerated amount of money in a matter of seconds on something completely futile, like a super shaver with a gold coating—exotic and utterly unnecessary.
The week was ending, and Chan listened to the fuss inside his friend group about hanging out this Friday. Jeonghan, seeing his colleagues leaving their desks, noticed Chan still at his desk, tapping his fingers on the glass table. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Jeonghan approached him.
"I know it's a stupid question, but will you come with us?" he asked. Chan was usually seen only at corporate events. Jeonghan couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a beer with his friend.
Chan looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to respond, the automatic refusal ready on his tongue, but something made him pause. He glanced around the office, now emptying out as people headed off to start their weekends. The thought of another solitary night of work made him feel a twinge of longing for something different.
"Come on, man," Jeonghan urged, sensing the hesitation. "Just one night. It’ll be fun. You need a break."
Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew Jeonghan was right. The constant grind was wearing him down, and maybe, just maybe, a night out with friends was exactly what he needed.
"Alright," Chan finally said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll come."
Jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"
Chan nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Yeah, let's do it."
Jeonghan grinned, clapping him on the back. "That's the spirit! You won't regret it."
Before they left the building, Chan paused and asked, "Jeonghan?"
"Yes?" Jeonghan answered, turning to face him.
"Where are we going?" Chan inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
Jeonghan just smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You'll see," he said, leaving Chan to wonder what the night had in store for him.
[...]
"A strip club? You must be kidding me!" Chan exclaimed as he took in the sight of the half-dark establishment. Neon lights flickered and danced around the room, casting colorful glows on the walls. Music blasted from speakers, filling the air with a pulsating beat.
He could see several women with different curves, colors, and hairstyles, dressed in scanty outfits—or sometimes nothing at all. The atmosphere was electric, a stark contrast to the corporate environment he was used to.
Jeonghan laughed, clapping Chan on the back. "Come on, man, loosen up! It's just for fun."
Chan hesitated, his eyes darting around the room. He felt a mix of discomfort and curiosity. "I don't know, Jeonghan..."
"Relax," Jeonghan said, guiding him further inside. "We all need a break sometimes. Just enjoy the night. You deserve it."
Chan took a deep breath, deciding to go along with it. Maybe Jeonghan was right—maybe he did need this. As they found a spot to sit, Chan tried to shake off his reservations.
His friends immediately ordered bottles and bottles of soju, beer, whiskey—whatever the bar had. Chan downed his whiskey in a single gulp, exclaiming, "If my dad knew I was here..."
Chan's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding."
"Nope," Jeonghan replied, pouring more whiskey into Chan's glass. "He said every hardworking man deserves a break. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"
Chan couldn't help but laugh at that. The thought of his father, the man he idolized for his strict work ethic, letting loose in a place like this was almost too surreal.
As some of his friends disappeared one by one, Chan found himself alone on the couch they had booked. "Great," he muttered under his breath, feeling a twinge of discomfort at being left alone in such a place.
Just as he was about to sink further into the cushions, the little stage that he hadn't even noticed until now suddenly lit up. A tall pole stood in the middle, and Chan tilted his head in curiosity.
Then, a pair of really, really high heels appeared, and Chan's throat went dry. You emerged onto the stage, your skin shining under the purple light. The outfit you wore was scandalous, barely covering anything, and Chan couldn't help but notice the little glitters spread on your skin, catching the light as you moved.
You took hold of the pole and began to dance around it, moving with a grace and confidence that left Chan mesmerized. Your movements were fluid and controlled, every sway of your hips and arch of your back drawing him in deeper. It was as if you were performing just for him, and Chan felt like he could get lost in the rhythm of your dance forever.
As you held yourself up on the pole like a pro, Chan couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt like he was being swallowed by the couch, completely captivated by the sight before him. In that moment, nothing else mattered but you and the hypnotic spell you cast over him with your dance.
As you made eye contact with Chan, a devilish smile played on your lips. He looked like a new piece of meat, a pretty young man who had never been seen before in the club. You got down from the stage, the sway of your hips drawing all eyes to you as you walked towards him.
"First time here, sweetie?" you asked, laying your hands on his shoulders. Chan felt like he couldn't breathe with the view of your tits practically in his face.
"My eyes are up here," you said, chuckling as you caught him ogling your chest.
Chan blinked, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, tearing his gaze away from your cleavage. "First time."
You chuckled, running a hand through your hair as you leaned in closer. "Well, lucky for you, you've got me to show you the ropes," you said, your voice low and sultry.
"You're tense," you observe, noticing the stiffness in Chan's shoulders. Without waiting for a response, you step behind him and begin to massage his shoulders, your fingers working their magic as you knead the tension away.
Chan lets out a sigh of relief, his muscles melting under your skilled touch. "Yeah," he admits, his voice soft. "Work's been... stressful lately."
You nod in understanding, continuing to work out the knots in his shoulders. "I get it," you say, your voice soothing. "But you're here now, and tonight is all about letting go of that stress and just enjoying yourself."
Chan leans back into your touch, closing his eyes as he relaxes into the sensation. "I guess you're right," he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
You smile too, glad to see him starting to unwind. "That's better," you say, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his skin. "Just focus on the here and now. Forget about everything else for a while."
Chan nods.
You walk around Chan again, swaying your hips seductively in front of him. His mind races, unsure of what to do next, but before he can even think, you're sitting on his lap, circling your hips against his.
Chan smiles shyly, feeling the heat from your body as you move against him. He can't help but notice the money tucked into the sides of your little shorts, a reminder of where he is and what's expected of him.
It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once, but there's something undeniably thrilling about having you so close, your body pressed against his.
As you continue to dance, Chan's hands hover uncertainly over your hips, unsure of where to touch or how to respond. He feels a flush of embarrassment at his own inexperience, but he's determined not to let it show. Instead, he focuses on the way your body moves against his.
And you smile knowingly, sensing his hesitation, and guide his hands to your waist, encouraging him.
Chan's hands move from your waist to your hips and then down to your thigh, his fingers grazing the soft skin as he explores the contours of your body. His pulse quickens as he feels the warmth of your thigh pressed against his pocket, and he can't resist the urge to reach into his wallet and retrieve a pouch of money.
With a mischievous grin, Chan brings his hand to the top of your head, letting the notes rain down on you like confetti. You laugh, delighted by the unexpected gesture, and give him a big smile.
"What's your name?" you ask, your voice playful.
"Chan," he replies, feeling a surge of confidence.
You lick your lips, your gaze lingering on his. "Nice to meet you, Channie," you purr, the nickname, and Chan blushes.
[...]
The next Monday, Chan sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. His mind raced with a million thoughts, his thoughts still consumed by the events of that night. He was lost in his own thoughts, replaying every moment, every touch, every glance.
A knock on his door startled him out of his trance, and he quickly tried to compose himself, pretending to be engrossed in some papers spread out on his desk.
"Come in," Chan called, his voice slightly shaky.
The door opened, and Jeonghan stepped inside, giving Chan a knowing smile. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Chan felt a flush of embarrassment heat his cheeks. "Oh, hey Jeonghan," he replied, trying to sound casual.
Jeonghan chuckled, walking over to Chan's desk and leaning against it casually. "So, how was your night?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.
Chan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a suitable response. "Um, it was... interesting," he finally managed, his voice trailing off uncertainly.
Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, huh?" he said, his tone teasing. "Well, if you ever need any pointers on how to navigate the world of strip clubs, you know who to ask."
Chan's cheeks burned even hotter, and he couldn't help but laugh at Jeonghan's playful teasing. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass," he said, relieved to have the topic of conversation shifted away from his night of unexpected adventure.
Chan spent the entire weekend consumed by thoughts of you, unable to shake the memories of your encounter at the club. As Monday rolled around, he found himself itching to see you again, the usual routine of work feeling dull and uninspired.
Deciding that today was not the day for extra hours at the office, Chan made his way to the club, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He arrived at the club, his eyes scanning the room eagerly in search of you.
As he looked around, a receptionist approached him, sensing his lost expression. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite and friendly.
Chan nodded, grateful for the assistance. "Yes, I'm looking for a girl with hair like this," he said, mimicking the length and curl of your hair with his hands.
The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you must be looking for Y/N," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Follow me, I'll take you to her."
There you were, dancing around the pole with a big smile on your face, as if you were truly enjoying every second of it. Chan watched from the corner of the room, his arms crossed and a big smile on his face as he observed you.
The club was crowded, with many people gathered around you, admiring your performance. Chan felt a pang of jealousy as he watched others vying for your attention, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.
As the night wore on and people began to leave, Chan noticed you finally catching sight of him. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a playful wink, rolling your hips as you glanced at him over your shoulder.
Chan's heart skipped a beat at your playful gesture, and he couldn't help but grin back at you. Despite the crowd around you, it felt like you were dancing just for him, and in that moment, Chan felt a surge of warmth and connection unlike anything he had ever experienced before.
As you took a break from dancing, you bent down to pick up some notes from the stage floor. Before you could gather them all, Chan approached, leaning on the stage with a playful grin.
"Leave it on the ground," he said, extending a big wad of money towards you. "Take it."
You chuckled, shaking your head. "I didn't even have time for you today," you teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Did I ask?" Chan replied, his smile widening. "Take it."
You couldn't help but laugh at his playful response, taking the money from his hand. "You liked me that much, huh?" you asked, knowing full well the answer. You were well aware of the power you held.
"Hmm, I think I need to see more," Chan teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
You giggled, enjoying the banter between you. "Well, if you want me all to yourself, you'll have to book," you replied with a playful wink.
Chan's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Can I book all of your agenda?" he asked eagerly.
You stood up, giving him a coy smile. "Don't be greedy, Channie," you teased, enjoying the way he looked at you with eager anticipation.
You glanced down at the wad of money in your hand, barely able to fit into your shorts, and then looked back up at Chan with a playful smile.
"Well, I think I can spare some time for you," you said, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "But just a little while."
Chan's face lit up with excitement as he nodded eagerly. "That's all I need," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
[...]
As Chan began appearing almost every day, he became a familiar face at the club, a quiet yet eager client of yours. The receptionist would often give you a knowing look, silently conveying that Chan had arrived and had booked time with you once again.
Of course, there were other loyal clients who frequented the club, but none seemed to hold the same level of fascination for you as Chan did. There was a certain shine in his eyes whenever he entered the club, a distinct aura of anticipation and eagerness that set him apart from the other customers.
You couldn't help but wonder why you had let him know about the option to book time with you. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you with such genuine interest and excitement, or maybe it was the thrill of having someone so captivated by your presence. Whatever the reason, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, eager to see where each encounter would lead.
You couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise when Chan didn't show up for his usual visit. It was as if a small piece of the excitement and anticipation that had become a part of your routine was suddenly missing. Without even realizing it, you found yourself scanning the crowd, searching for his familiar face.
Then, just as you were starting to wonder where he was, you spotted him entering the club. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him make his way to his special seat, right in front of you. His genuine smile lit up his face, and you couldn't help but smile back, the warmth of his presence washing over you like a wave.
With renewed energy and enthusiasm, you danced with even more passion and heart than before. You knew that Chan was watching, appreciating every move, every moment.
Over the following weeks, Chan's visits became a cherished routine. Each time he arrived, you could sense the anticipation in his eyes, the unspoken hope that maybe tonight would be different.
One evening, as you were finishing your performance and making your way to his table, he finally mustered the courage to ask. "Hey, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime? Outside of here, I mean," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth and a hint of nervousness.
You smiled softly, appreciating his boldness but knowing you had to set boundaries. "I'm flattered, Chan, but I don't hang out with customers outside of work," you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.
A few nights later, he tried again, this time with a different approach. "There's this amazing new restaurant that just opened up downtown. I'd love to take you there," he offered, his eyes hopeful.
You shook your head slightly, maintaining your friendly demeanor. "I appreciate the invite, but I have a policy about not mixing my work life with my personal life," you explained, hoping he would understand.
Undeterred, Chan continued to ask, each time finding new ways to express his interest. "There's a gallery opening this weekend. I thought it might be fun to check it out together," he suggested one night, his enthusiasm palpable.
Once again, you gently declined. "That sounds lovely, but I really can't. I have to keep things professional with my clients," you said, feeling a pang of regret at having to turn him down yet again.
Each time he asked, you could see the slight disappointment in his eyes, but he always respected your boundaries. And despite your refusals, he never stopped coming back, never stopped watching you with that same genuine admiration and respect.
Tonight, you made sure every detail was perfect. Your hair cascaded in flawless waves, and you wore your best outfit, accentuating every curve just right. You were eager to dance for Chan, feeling a flutter of excitement as you anticipated his arrival. Sure enough, Chan appeared, booking the rest of the night with you as he had been doing lately.
When he approached, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, a small gesture that had become part of your interactions. "Hey, Channie," you said with a playful smile. "So, what’s it gonna be tonight? Shorts or no shorts?"
Chan smiled warmly, a bit of that usual nervous energy in his eyes. "Actually," he began, his tone softer than usual, "I just want to talk tonight. I want to spend time with you."
You blinked, taken aback. No customer had ever asked for just your company before. "You... you just want to talk?" you repeated, making sure you heard him right.
He nodded, a sincere expression on his face. "Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love watching you dance. But tonight, I just want to get to know you better. You know, beyond all this," he gestured vaguely around the club.
Still processing his request, you motioned to the couch. "Alright, let's sit then." You both settled onto the plush seats, the atmosphere suddenly feeling more intimate and less transactional.
"So, what do you want to know?" you asked, trying to mask your nervousness with a casual tone.
Chan leaned forward slightly, his eyes earnest. "Everything. What's your favorite color? What's your dream vacation? What do you do when you're not here?" He paused, then added with a chuckle, "I know it sounds silly, but I really want to know the real you."
You smiled, touched by his genuine curiosity. "Well, my favorite color is …" you began, feeling a bit shy. "As for a dream vacation, I've always wanted to visit Santorini. The pictures look so beautiful, like a place out of a fairytale."
Chan listened intently, his focus unwavering. "Santorini sounds amazing. I can picture you there."
You chuckled, the image of you in Santorini bringing a warm feeling to your chest. "And when I'm not here, I love to paint. It's my way of unwinding, letting my creativity flow."
His eyes lit up. "Painting? That's incredible. What kind of things do you paint?"
You shrugged lightly, feeling more comfortable as the conversation flowed. "Mostly landscapes and abstract pieces. It's like putting a piece of my soul onto the canvas."
For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, both of you absorbing the depth of the conversation. Chan finally broke it, his voice soft. "You know, I've always admired how dedicated you are to what you do, I know it's now easy at all. But hearing about your passions and dreams, it makes me admire you even more."
Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself opening up more than you had with anyone in a long time. "Thank you, Chan. It means a lot to hear that."
He reached out, gently squeezing your hand. "Thank you for sharing with me. I know this isn’t what you usually do, but it means a lot to me."
Chan observed the small figurine on the table, curiosity lighting up his eyes. “Where do you get these?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look.
You smiled, a bit shyly. “I make them myself,” you said, enjoying the surprise that flickered across his face.
“Really? That’s amazing,” he praised, his admiration evident. You shrugged modestly.
“It’s not that hard,” you replied, still smiling. “They’re always small.”
Chan chuckled, a warm sound that made you feel even more at ease. He started to remove his blazer, and before you knew it, he placed it gently around your shoulders, covering a good part of you. The gesture was so kind and considerate that it made you feel even more comfortable, despite usually feeling at ease in your usual skimpy outfits.
As you nestled into the blazer, you couldn’t help but notice how much more at ease you felt. Chan’s presence was different; it wasn’t just about the physical attraction or the lavish spending. There was a gentleness, a genuine care that made you feel safe and valued.
“I don’t usually do this,” you admitted, looking at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
Chan smiled back, his eyes soft. “It’s my pleasure. You deserve to feel comfortable.”
The conversation flowed easily as Chan began to share bits and pieces of his life. He spoke about his responsibilities as CEO, the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy, and the sacrifices he had to make. His words were carefully chosen, mindful of not coming across as boastful despite his affluent lifestyle. You could tell he was trying to be as honest as possible while downplaying the extravagance.
“And that’s pretty much my life,” Chan concluded with a slight sigh. “It’s demanding, but it’s what I have to do.”
You admired his humility, realizing how grounded he remained despite his wealth. “It sounds like a lot to handle,” you said softly, your eyes reflecting your newfound respect for him. “But you do it so well. It’s impressive.”
Chan’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and weariness in his eyes. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but I try.”
“You’re more than just a pretty boy,” you teased lightly, wanting to lift the mood. “You’re a hardworking, humble man.”
He laughed, the sound filling the space between you with warmth. “And you’re not just a beautiful dancer. You’re talented and creative.”
[...]
The next morning, you were chatting with the girls—your coworkers—as they finished their hair for the night.
“And he just wanted to talk,” you said, a bit incredulously. “He even asked about my favorite color.”
The girls collectively let out a heartfelt “Awww,” their eyes wide with interest and affection.
“Seriously?” one of them, Mina, asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That’s so sweet.”
“He seems different,” another added, giggling.
“Yeah,” you nodded, still a bit surprised yourself. “We just talked. It was...nice.”
Before the conversation could continue, the receptionist entered the room, a knowing smile on her face. “Ya! Y/N-nie! Your Channie is here,” she announced, her tone teasing.
It was unusual for any customer to visit on a Saturday morning, a time usually reserved for the staff to unwind and prepare for the week ahead.
“It’s Saturday morning,” Mina whispered, nudging you playfully. “No customers come in unless they lost something.”
“Let him in,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual but feeling the flutter of anticipation.
As Chan walked in, he was met with a scene unlike the usual vibrant atmosphere of the club. The girls were dressed in comfortable clothes, some with bobs in their hair, others doing their nails or simply lounging around.
You were drying a glass behind the bar. He looked around, slightly surprised but smiling.
“Good morning, girls,” he greeted, his voice cheerful. "Good morning Y/N…" He says in a special and tender tone, just for you.
“Good morning,” the girls chimed back in unison, their eyes following his every move.
You put down the glass and walked over to him, a wide smile on your face. “Channie, what are you doing here?” you asked, genuinely curious.
“I wanted to see you,” he replied, his gaze soft and sincere. He seemed a bit out of place in the relaxed environment, but his presence was a welcome one. You could feel the girls watching the exchange with rapt attention, like they were watching an opera unfold.
Chan noticed that you didn’t have bobs in your hair like some of the other girls. Gesturing toward your hair, he asked, “No bobs for you today?”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s my day off. I’m not dancing today.”
The girls exchanged knowing looks, some stifling giggles. One of them, Lisa, leaned over and whispered loudly enough for you to hear, “Looks like someone’s here to see you even when you’re not performing.”
You blushed, glancing at Chan, who seemed equally flustered but amused by the comment. He recovered quickly, his smile returning.
Chan stood there, his eyes filled with hope and a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to spend the day with me?" he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.
You chuckled, a playful glint in your eye. "Hmm, I've already told you about hanging out with my customers," you teased, enjoying the banter.
Before Chan could respond, Mina chimed in from the background, her voice filled with encouragement. "Oh, come on! You should accept it!"
Chan seized the opportunity, smiling wider. "You’re not on your work schedule now, are you?"
That shut your mouth, leaving you momentarily speechless. The girls burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the exchange.
“Well, when you put it that way…” you trailed off, pretending to think it over.
Chan’s smile grew, sensing victory. “So, is that a yes?”
You sighed theatrically, then grinned. “Fine, you win. I’ll spend the day with you.”
“Great!” Chan said, visibly relieved and excited. “I promise it’ll be fun.”
You nodded, your smile widening. “Let me just finish up here, and we can go.”
As you gathered your things, the girls couldn’t resist a few more teasing comments, but it was all in good fun, as Chan waited patiently.
As the day unfolded, Chan took you to places you hadn't had the time to visit in years. You sipped coffee at a cozy café, strolled through the park, and even caught a movie at the cinema. With each passing moment, you found yourself enjoying his company more and more, feeling a sense of freedom and joy you hadn't experienced in a long time.
"This has been the best day off ever," you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement as you walked side by side with Chan.
His heart swelled with happiness at your words, his smile growing wider. He could have taken you to a luxurious restaurant or shopping for designer labels, but he sensed that wasn't what you wanted. Instead, he decided to let you choose how to spend the rest of the day.
Careful to open doors for you and ensure your comfort, Chan drove you around in his luxurious car, enjoying each other's company and the simplicity of the moment. As he glanced at you from the driver's seat, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him.
"Where to next?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.
You playfully pretended to ponder your options, teasing him about having more surprises up his sleeve. Chan laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he drove. You noticed that you were nearing your apartment, and the idea popped into your head.
"How about we go to my place?" you suggested, surprising even yourself with the invitation.
Chan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Your place? Are you sure?"
You nodded, feeling a sense of excitement building in your chest. "Yeah, why not? I'd love for you to see where I live."
Chan couldn't hide his delight at your invitation, his curiosity piqued. He parked the car and walked with you to your apartment building, taking in the surroundings with interest.
Chan's eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the details of your life that adorned the walls. He saw framed photographs capturing cherished memories – graduations, family gatherings, outings with friends. The images painted a picture of a life rich in experiences and relationships.
His gaze shifted to the plushies scattered across the couch, a playful and endearing touch that brought a smile to his face. It was clear to him that you had a warmth and sweetness that extended beyond the confines of the club where he first met you.
As you disappeared into the kitchen, Chan took a moment to soak in the atmosphere of your home. The tranquility of the space, combined with the personal touches that reflected your personality, made him feel strangely at ease.
In that moment, he realized that he was seeing a side of you that few others had the privilege of witnessing – the real you, beyond the glamorous facade of the club.
As you settled back onto the couch with snacks in hand, Chan joined you, his presence filling the space with warmth. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he began recounting his visit to the strip club earlier that day.
You listened intently, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as he shared the details of his adventure. When he mentioned Jeonghan's involvement, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards your friend for unknowingly setting this day in motion.
"Looks like I owe Jeonghan a big thank you," you said, your voice muffled as you took a bite of your snack.
Chan raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, Jeonghan is the reason we met, huh?" he teased, leaning closer to you.
You chuckled, feeling a playful energy between you. "Looks like it," you replied, unable to suppress a smile.
Chan's teasing grin widened at your response, and he leaned in closer, his playful demeanor evident. "Oh, so you're thanking Jeonghan, but not me?" he teased, raising an eyebrow in mock indignation.
With a soft smile, you turned to Chan, gratitude evident in your eyes. "Thank you, Channie," you said, your voice sincere as you expressed your appreciation.
Chan returned your smile, his gaze warm as he listened to your words. "For what?" he asked, though he already had a feeling of what you meant.
You took a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. "For everything," you began, your tone heartfelt. "For the moments we've shared, the conversations we've had... Even on the nights you booked me, we talked more than danced," you admitted, a fondness evident in your voice.
Chan's smile widened at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I guess I'm just a talkative guy," he joked, though there was a hint of sincerity in his tone.
Chan's touch was tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze lingering on your lips with a mixture of hesitation and longing. You could feel the tension building between you, an unspoken desire hanging in the air.
When he spoke your name, you couldn't help but respond with a soft sound of acknowledgment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. His next words sent a shiver down your spine, his voice barely above a whisper as he confessed his thoughts.
"I know it's not allowed to kiss the dancers in the club," he began, his words laden with a sense of urgency, "but... we're not in the club right?"
His question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. In that moment, the boundaries that had separated you in the club seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, alone in the intimacy of your shared space.
You met Chan's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you considered his words. Despite the rules and restrictions that governed your interactions in the club, here, in this moment, you felt a freedom that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
With a hesitant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, "No, we're not in the club." And in that simple acknowledgment, you gave voice to the unspoken truth that had been lingering between you all along.
Chan's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips crashed into yours. His tongue explored your mouth with a fervent passion, and you found yourself breathing hard, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt to deepen the kiss.
The truth was, the more you refused Chan's invitations to dinner, the more you denied the gifts he insisted on giving you, the more you avoided his attempts to kiss you—his feelings for you only grew stronger. And now, seeing his insistence on simply having your company, and not just as the girl who would entertain him at night, made you feel all your girlhood feelings again.
Breaking the kiss for a moment, you looked into his eyes, your breath mingling with his. "Chan..." you whispered "Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep trying so hard?"
He held your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and tenderness. "Because you matter to me, Y/N. More than just a dancer, more than just a pretty face. I see you, the real you, and I want to know you better."
Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a rush of warmth and affection for this man who saw beyond the surface. "But I'm not used to this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not used to someone caring this much."
Chan's grip on your neck tightened slightly, a comforting reassurance. "Then let me show you how it feels. Let me show you that you deserve to be cared for, to be cherished."
"Show me," you whisper, your eyes locked on Chan's lips. He captures your mouth in a passionate kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pulls it over your head. You pull him closer, desperate to feel him, your hands sliding under his shirt to caress his warm skin.
His hands slide to your thighs, lifting you onto his lap, your breasts now level with his face. He glances at the pretty lace bra you’re wearing and lowers the cups, exposing your nipples. He kisses each one tenderly before sucking on one and pinching the other. You melt into him, your hips grinding against his automatically, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.
"Do you know how hard it was to control myself when you grinded on my cock like this?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.
A wicked smile crosses your lips as you continue to grind against him, feeling his erection growing beneath you. "I could feel it, Chan," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "I could feel how much you wanted me. I wanted you just as badly."
His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he presses you harder against him. "God, Y/N, you drive me crazy," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust.
You lean in, your breath hot against his ear. "I want to feel you inside me, Chan. I want you to lose control. Show me how much you want me."
His control snaps, and he flips you onto your back, his body pressing you into the couch. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," he growls, his hand sliding down to unbutton your pants.
"I know exactly what I want," you whisper back, your eyes burning with the same desire. "I want you, all of you."
Chan's lips crash into yours again, more fiercely this time, as his hands work to remove the rest of your clothing.
In a blur of movement, clothes are discarded, and his skin is pressed against yours. He pauses to look into your eyes. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need.
"I want you, Chan," you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.
Chan giggles softly, his breath hot against your skin. "Wait for me to prepare you," he whispers, his voice laced with anticipation. He opens your legs wide, his eyes dark with desire as he lowers himself between your thighs. His lips find your wet folds, kissing them gently before his tongue delves deeper.
The sensation sends shivers through your body, and you let out a soft moan. Chan's mouth works expertly, sucking on your clit while his tongue teases and explores. As you gasp his name, "Channie," he responds with a moan of his own, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.
His hand slides up your thigh, and you feel the gentle pressure of his finger at your entrance. He slips it inside you slowly, his finger curling to find that perfect spot. Your back arches off the couch, your hands gripping the cushions as he continues to worship your body with his mouth and fingers.
"Oh, Chan," you breathe, your voice quivering with need. The way his tongue moves, the way his finger pumps in and out of you—it's all too much. Your hips begin to move on their own, seeking more of the intense pleasure he's giving you.
He adds another finger, stretching you gently, and your moans grow louder. His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue in a rhythm that drives you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.
Chan's free hand comes up to hold your hip, steadying you as you writhe beneath him. He looks up at you, his eyes full of lust and admiration, and the sight of him between your legs pushes you closer to the edge.
"Channie, I’m so close," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.
He doubles his efforts, his fingers moving faster, his mouth more insistent on your clit. The world fades away, and all you can focus on is the overwhelming pleasure building within you.
With a final, deep moan, you come undone. Your body trembles, your muscles clench around his fingers, and a powerful wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Chan doesn't stop, drawing out your orgasm until you're completely spent, every nerve ending tingling with satisfaction.
Finally, he pulls away, his fingers and mouth glistening with your arousal. He looks up at you with a triumphant smile, his own need evident in his eyes. "You taste so good," he murmurs, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only fuels the fire between you.
"Now," he says, positioning himself at your entrance, "I think you're ready."
You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, and with one smooth thrust, he fills you completely.
Your pussy was wet enough, spasming, welcoming him perfectly. Chan's eyes were closed, his face contorting as he tried to compose himself. You reached up and gently held his face, and he opened his eyes, scoffing softly, trying to pretend he didn't almost cum right then and there from the sensation of your sopping cunt wrapping so perfectly around him and the pornographic moan that just left your mouth.
"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good."
You smiled, your own arousal mirrored in his gaze. "Don't hold back, Channie," you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair. "I want all of you."
He groaned, his hips starting to move, slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him with each thrust. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, the connection between you deepening with every movement.
"You're so tight," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he picked up the pace. "So perfect for me."
You bit your lip, your body responding to his every word, his every touch. "Chan," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Don't stop."
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rolled his hips, stopping momentarily before hitting your g'spot with a sharp thrust. He repeated this motion, each thrust more deliberate, and the most sinful moans left your mouth. "Yes, Channie," you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure, "fuck this pussy with that big fucking cock. Yes, yes!"
Chan groaned, the sound deep and guttural, spurred on by your words. "You like that? Hm?" he panted, his pace quickening as he watched the ecstasy play out on your face. "You like how I fuck you?"
"Yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, yes, I love it. I love how you fuck me– ah! Channie."
"So wet... all for me."
Your body arched beneath him, your hips moving to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure that was building to an overwhelming peak. "Only for you," you whispered, your voice breaking with a whimper as he drove you closer to the edge. "No one else, just you, Channie."
He growled, the possessiveness in your words igniting something primal in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Say it again," he demanded, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours," you cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I'm yours, Channie, only yours."
His hips snapped forward with even more intensity, and you could feel the coil tightening in your core, ready to snap. "Cum for me," he urged, his voice a low growl. "Cum all over my cock, baby."
Your pussy throbbed as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, your eyes closing tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream. You wrapped your legs around Chan's waist, locking him in place as you rode out every wave of pleasure. Chan hissed, his abdomen trembling, signaling that he was on the brink of release but unable to escape your grip.
You opened your eyes to find Chan watching you intently, taking in every reaction. "Sit," you commanded, your voice breathless yet authoritative.
"Hm?" Chan responded, his expression a mix of curiosity and lingering pleasure.
"Sit," you repeated, firmer this time. He complied, a small laugh escaping his lips.
"Are you going to dom me?" he teased, scoffing lightly.
Instead of answering, you simply lowered yourself onto his cock, making him flinch and let out a whiny moan in your ear, your legs trembling from the intensity of your recent orgasm.
"Fuck," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips.
You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "You like that, Channie? You like when I take control?"
"Yes," he gasped, his breath hitching as you began to move, rolling your hips slowly at first. "God, yes."
You smirked, picking up the pace, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through both of you. "You look so good like this," you whispered, your voice low and sultry. "So desperate, so needy. You want to cum, don't you?"
"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whimper. "Please, let me cum."
You tightened your grip on his shoulders, riding him harder. "Not yet," you commanded, enjoying the power you held over him. "Not until I say so."
Chan's eyes fluttered closed, his body trembling as he tried to hold back. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."
"Look at me," you ordered, your tone firm. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "You’re going to cum when I tell you to, understand?"
"Yes," he panted, nodding eagerly. "Yes, I understand."
You imagined riding him since the moment he entered that club, young, hot, with his sleeves rolled up, the scent of masculine fragrance mingling with whiskey on his breath. Feeling this man, needy and sly, with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, spilling all that pre-cum, and fighting his demons not to cum, made you so horny.
You licked your fingers, circling your clit to help yourself climax, making you clench around him again. A strangled moan escaped his mouth, his eyes were rolling back.
You leaned in close, your voice husky with desire. "You're so close, Channie," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I can feel how badly you want to cum inside me. Do it, baby. Give it to me. Fill me up with your cum."
Chan's hips bucked against yours, his grip on your hips tightening. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I need to cum, please..."
You smirked, your fingers still working furiously on your clit. "You want to empty those balls for me, make me feel every drop of your cum inside me? Hm?"
Chan nodded frantically, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes, god, yes. Please, let me cum. I can't hold on much longer."
With a wicked grin, you increased the pressure on your clit, feeling the tension building inside you. "Then cum for me, Channie," you urged, your voice a sultry whisper. "Cum deep inside my pussy."
Chan's entire body tensed, his breath hitching as he finally let go, his cum flooding you with warmth. You cried out in pleasure, feeling your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you rode out the ecstasy together.
As you collapsed against his chest, Chan wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You could feel your legs trembling in soreness, his cum still dripping from your pussy, and both of your bodies slick with sweat. Despite the exhaustion, Chan's embrace felt comforting and secure.
He ran his hands soothingly over your back, his touch gentle yet firm, as if trying to convey all his affection through his fingertips. You raised your head to meet his gaze, finding him looking back at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness in his eyes.
You pressed a series of soft kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. Chan smiled in response, his own lips curved upwards in a contented –fucked out– expression.
You summoned the last vestiges of your strength just to tease Chan, circling your hips ever so slightly, just enough to elicit a reaction from his sensitive body.
"Wait, wait," Chan gasped, his voice strained with sensitivity. "I can't... I can't take it."
He held you firmly against him, his grip almost desperate as he tried to steady himself. The sensation of your hips circling against his heightened his arousal to a point where he felt like he might lose control at any moment.
You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. Despite the exhaustion and the intensity of your encounter, you found his vulnerability endearing.
"Sorry," you chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his labored breaths. "I couldn't resist teasing you a little."
Chan let out a breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his composure. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he spoke again.
"You're... you're something else, you know that?" he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I don't know how you do it."
You grinned up at him, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. Despite the intense physical connection between you, there was an undeniable emotional bond that had formed, deepening your connection even further.
"I guess I just have a way with you," you replied playfully, winking at him before snuggling closer into his embrace.
#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#svt reactions#seventeen fluff#lee chan#lee chan fluff#chan fluff#dino fluff#dino seventeen#svt dino#dino x reader#dino x you#dino x y/n#lee chan x reader#lee chan x you#seventeen reaction#seventeen headcanons#svt smut#seventeen smut#seventeen scenarios#svt imagines#dino smut#chan smut#lee chan smut#chan reaction
719 notes
·
View notes
Text
hoodie season || Chan x Reader
Summary: You're not stealing Chan's hoodies. He's not happy about it.
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings & Tags: Tooth-rutting fluff, established relationship, that should be it.
A/N: Wrote a silly lil one-shot for an idea I got tonight! This was literally written in under two hours, so, uh, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did lol and I apologize for any typos.
Reblogs, feedback and comments are welcome and encouraged!
It starts, without you being aware of it, on a July evening. You and Chan have only been dating for a couple weeks then, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. For the better half of the night, which you’re spending with his friend group, you’re in his arms, your back against his chest, his chin comfortably resting on your shoulder. Changbin and Jisung tease him about it, but he shrugs it off like it means nothing. He’s got you now, and he likes showing you off, so why wouldn’t he?
It does take you aback when he lets go of you and the cold hits you. It was hot outside all day, and you hadn’t realized that the temperature had dropped by this much. A shiver shakes you to your core, which Chan doesn’t miss, even if he’s being called away to play the guitar.
“You want my hoodie?” he asks, eyes filled with concern.
“No, I’m okay, babe,” you say with a smile. “I’ve brought a jacket.”
He nods, and that’s all there is to it.
It comes back on a night the two of you are spending out. Chan takes you out to this fancy restaurant, and you dress accordingly, always pleased when you get a chance to impress him — and impress him you do. He does that thing that you think is adorable, where he keeps giggling throughout the meal. Under the table, your knees keep touching, and every time, without fail, his ears turn bright red. You love that you still have that effect on your boyfriend of three months.
After that, because you’re near a park, you decide to go for a walk in the night air. It doesn’t take long before you’re shivering in your small, tight dress.
“I’ve got a hoodie in my car,” Chan says, ever the gentleman. “Want me to go get it for you?”
You’re not keen on being left alone in the dark, and your high heels mean that if you go with him, it’ll take much longer than it should. Plus, it would ruin your outfit.
“It’s fine,” you say, arranging your scarf so it wraps around your shoulders. “We’ll be heading home soon anyway, right?”
“Sure,” he nods quickly, and it’s your turn to giggle, because it’s so cute, how Chan always indulges you.
He ends up picking you up when you’re walking back too slowly for his taste, and you protest, but you’re no longer cold when you get to his car.
The subject — which, by the way, you still haven’t realized is a subject — comes back yet again on a night you’re spending in his apartment. You’re coming out of the shower, a towel wrapped around you, and you’re going through your bag to find the clothes you’d planned on wearing for the night when something lands on the bed in front of you. You glance up to find Chan looking at you, leaning against the door frame.
“Just in case you get cold.”
You have, slowly but surely, made your way into November, but Chan’s place is warm, and you know you’ll have a human radiator, so you grin at him.
“I have a feeling I won’t be needing it tonight.”
Chan grins — but his ears turn red, even now.
You do a Secret Santa, a few days before Christmas, with Chan and his friend group, at Changbin’s place. It’s an incredibly nice house, but it’s big and it’s old, and you soon find yourself huddling against Chan for warm. It makes him laugh at first, and he presses a kiss into your hair, arm solidly wrapped around you as he rubs your arm. When you don’t appear to warm up as the night keeps going, he disappears for a few minutes, ignoring your protests.
He comes back from his car and hands you one of his signature black hoodies.
“You’re my savior, babe,” you sigh as you pull it over your head.
Chan beams.
His victory is short-lived, though, because you pull away from him after that — with the hoodie, cuddling makes you too hot.
You leave the hoodie neatly folded in his car when you both go back to your place for the night.
It’s just a few days later that you meet Chan’s family for the first time. You’re all dressed-up, determined to do your best so that they’ll like you, even if Chan’s promised you that they would, no matter what, because he loves you, and that’s all they care about.
He dropped the word so easily, and you were left speechless. You haven’t stopped thinking about it since.
Even now, when you’re sitting next to him, making small talk with his mom and listening to his sister tease him playfully, you have butterflies in your stomach. The hand he’s placed over yours on the table, again making it look so natural, so easy for him, isn’t helping.
“Wanna go for a midnight walk?” he offers, later that night. “It’s kind of a family tradition.”
“Sure,” you say, voice squeakier than usual, and he tilts his head as he studies you, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“You’re not dressed warm enough,” he warns you, and before you can say that you’ve brought appropriate clothing, he’s taking off his hoodie and pulling it down over your head. “There. All good.”
It’s late when you come back, so you both wish his parents a goodnight before Chan drives you back to your apartment. You wait until you’ve made it up the stairs and you’ve opened the door to put your arms around him and pull him down for a kiss. It’s soft, slow, and filled with all of your emotions.
“What’s that for?” Chan whispers against your lips. He’s warm against you, his hands on your hips, and you feel so grounded by him. You always do.
“I love you too,” you whisper back.
The hoodie ends up forgotten on the floor.
You celebrate New Year’s Day with Chan’s friends, again, but really, they’re your friends by now. You get at Changbin’s house early so you can help with the cooking and decorating the place, and end up teaming up with Felix and Minho in the cooking department, while Hyunjin takes over the decorations and forbids everyone from approaching him while he works.
It’s not because he’s shy. It’s because he thinks you’re all terrible.
Chan arrives kind of late minute, busy working on songs, as always, while you’re putting out the drinks you’d brought with you. You greet him with a quick kiss. You still have a million things to do.
“I’ve got your hoodie in my bag, you should put it back in your car,” you just tell him as you rush back into the kitchen.
You miss the way he pouts at you.
It’s later that night, but still with a couple hours to go until midnight, that he approaches you while you’re outside, staring up at the night sky and enjoying the fresh air after hours cooped up inside. He wraps his arms around your waist, buries his head in your neck. You lean back into the familiar touch with a satisfied sigh — until he mumbles something unintelligible.
“What was that?” you ask with a frown.
Even with the only light coming through the windows of Changbin’s house, you can tell he’s blushing when he pulls away from you.
“Why aren’t you keeping my hoodies?”
You blink at him.
“…because they’re your hoodies?”
He opens his mouth, closes it.
“Yeah, but they’re kinda… your hoodies too, y’know?”
You tilt your head slowly, and soon, you’re unable to fight the grin that’s spreading on your lips as you watch him get increasingly pouty.
“Do you want me to steal your hoodies?”
The blush spreads.
“Do you like it when I wear them?”
You’re just having fun now.
“Yeah,” he answers, before cocking an eyebrow at you. “Think it’s hot, by the way.”
You burst out laughing, and he tightens his hold around you when that takes you away from him. God, do you love that man. Once you’ve collected yourself, you reach a hand up to gently cup his cheek.
“Okay, I’ll steal your hoodies. Anything for you, love.”
He smiles, satisfied, and kisses you softly. He brings a hand to cover yours, entangles his fingers with yours.
You don’t tell him, but the truth is, you feel warm and fuzzy all over inside whenever he’s around.
So you don’t see the point in having a hoodie when you can have him instead.
taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard
Masterlist
#stray kids#bang chan#chan#skz#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#bang chan fluff#chan fluff#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagine#skz imagine#chan imagine#bang chan imagine#candywrites
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
to have and to hold
pairing: bang chan x female reader
summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.
word count: 1.4k
warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!
a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all
till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist
“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?”
Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.
Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.
“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”
“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.
“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”
“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.
“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”
“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.”
“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”
“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”
“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”
—
Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.
Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.
Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach.
When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.
“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.
“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”
Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.
Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball, some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.
He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn’t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.
“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.
Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.
“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”
“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”
Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.
“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”
He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.
It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.
“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”
By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.
Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.
When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal.
After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.
Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.
When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.
That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck.
“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”
“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”
“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist
#to have and to hold#till death do us part collection#chahnniesroom#skz fanfic#skz fluff#skz fic#skz x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x female reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#chan x y/n#chan x reader#chan x you#chan fluff#skz imagines#stray kids#chan#bang chan
857 notes
·
View notes
Text
liar
pairing: bangchan x f! reader
rating: sfw
tags: sharing a bed, just pure softness, cuddling, best friends to lovers, pining, confessions, tired chan
wc: i'm too lazy to count but idk it's probably 2k 😭(I'm definitely wrong)
your doorbell rings when it's close to midnight, its sound reverberating through every corner of your little apartment. your socked feet carry you from bed to the door on autopilot. you weren't sleeping, but you were nearly there.
you open up your front door and off-white light from the hallway spills shamelessly into your dark living space. Chan stands there, bag slung lazily across his shoulder, eyes droopy with sleep.
"they borrowed my place for a party i don't wanna be at," he declares. "I'm sleeping here."
he walks in without waiting for an answer, wrapping you in a quick, one-armed hug for a greeting on his way. his bag finds its place on your couch. he switches a couple of lamps on here and there and fixes a photo frame on his way to your bathroom with a towel and some clothes in hand.
you kind of like how it's so natural for him to be at your place. like he belongs here. like he could live here.
you wished he would.
you lay back in bed, shifting to a side, leaving the rest of the space for Chan. ever since you first cuddled up with him a few months ago, it became an unspoken rule between you to always sleep cuddled up when alone.
it was one of the best parts of your friendship with him. you could abandon every care in the world when he was around and just be. He was always there- gentle, warm, protective, kind. everything you wished for in a man.
everything you can't have.
it had been weeks since you had gone to bed without thinking of him. even in the face of extreme exhaustion and no contact, Chan never failed to slip into your thoughts. he needed to compensate you for all the nights you couldn't sleep just because he did something adorable during the day and you wouldn't stop thinking about it.
he needed to apologize for every time you accidentally called one of your friends by his name, just because he wouldn't leave your head.
and he needed to desperately make up for nights like these. nights when he would touch you and let you touch him, but never enough. there was always a weighted, invisible boundary you hated with all your guts. a burning line you couldn't cross.
so, over the days, you had learned to make peace with what you got, no matter how little. you had learned to make the most of his arms around you, the firmness of his torso pressed to your back, the warmth of his breathing behind your ear, his occasional sleepy rambling.
sometimes he said your name.
before you knew it, the mattress dips beside you, the familiar scent of Chan's shampoo filling up your senses. you came alive a little.
his arm slips across your middle, pulling you as close as humanly possible into the abyss that was his warmth. you could spend an eternity here without a syllable of protest falling from your lips.
“i don’t have a shirt on, is that okay?” he mumbles into your hair.
more than okay, you wanted to say but for the sake of the friendship you had spent years building, you resorted to a small hum. he usually slept barely clothed, but when with you, he always asked. he made sure never to cross any lines. he was cautious, reserved. too far.
“is everything okay?” you ask. “you usually do not turn down a chance to party.”
you feel him move behind you, long fingers fiddling with the thin fabric of your t-shirt. he yawns like a puppy.
“i’d had a busy day,” he begins. “i needed some sleep and you know how bad i am at getting to sleep alone...”
his knuckle accidentally brushes your navel. you shiver.
“…besides you weren’t there. i’ve missed having you around y/n, now that i see it.”
your skin flushes hot, lips involuntarily swelling into a smile. you turn your face into your pillow, determined to bury your happiness into the fluff.
“i’ve missed you too,” you confess.
his blunt nails graze against your flesh again, and you wonder how much of it was accidental anymore. could Chan tell? did he know how down bad you were for him?
“liar,” he whispers, squeezing your body lightly into his own.
he liked to do that, you had noticed. almost as if finding a way to inch closer, as if making up for the fact that there would always be some molecular distance between you no matter what.
or maybe you were just reading too much into it.
you place a hand over his own, fingertips drawing subtle lines into his pale skin, tracing the veins you stared at shamelessly in broad daylight.
“you really think i’d lie to you?”
“you wouldn’t?” he asks.
you turned around, facing him. your hand settles on his bare chest. you could feel his heart beat beneath your touch.
“no,” you confirm. “never.”
he smiles, his hair getting into his eyes as he puts his forehead against yours.
“okayyy,” he giggles. “tell me something then, since you claim to not lie.”
your heart picks up pace, hammering beneath your chest, and you were half afraid Chan might hear it. you swallow thickly, a small lump forming in your throat.
“yeah?”
his gaze wraps over you like a veil, clouding everything else just enough that he is all you can see.
"do you like me?" he whispers.
the question drops in your heart and sinks into your gut. you've been caught, red-handed. but you were so careful, so vigilant, looking but never for too long, complimenting him but being careful not to flirt, telling him you love him when he needed to hear it but taking care to conceal the love you felt.
you want to play it cool. you're scared of how it's going to go.
"duh," you say. "of course i like you, why else would we be friends?"
he clicks his tongue, a soft laugh escaping his lips. he drops a light kiss on your forehead and you sigh.
"you're not that naive," he states. "come on, I'll wait for you."
you feel your cheeks heat up. it gets harder by the second to stay still, not with chan's fingers rubbing warmth into your back, his face so close you could steal a kiss. he was no fool. he never had been. who did you think you were hiding from?
"i..." you begin, your mouth drying up. "yeah."
you feel his marble fingers slip under your chin. pressure, soft but commanding, forced you to look at him.
"you what, sweetheart?"
the endearment sent you spiraling. you squeeze his muscled shoulder, fingers digging into flesh.
"don't be an ass," you say. "i'm not gonna say it."
he chuckles. you watch his gaze move across your face, settle on your lips, and then back to your eyes again. you didn't want to think ahead of yourself.
you didn't want to break your heart.
he leaned in, his arm circling around your waist, his mouth leaving a soft kiss to your temple. you could die like this and it wouldn't be so bad.
"please," he whispers. "you said you'd be honest."
and who were you to turn down chan with his gentle voice and sturdy hands and body warmth and huge heart and ---? you could go on forever.
you grind your teeth together unconsciously, draw in a deep breath, and sigh. he knows you're giving in.
"i do like you," you admit finally. "so much more than a friend."
his palm slides up your back and finds your hair, long fingers gripping them and pulling you in. he smiles when he kisses you- mouth tasting of cinnamon and longing and want.
"fucking finally," he breathes. "you've got no idea how long i've waited for this."
you melt into a caramel puddle in his hands. you lean in again, pressing your lips onto his like he'd disappear, like this is all you've got.
taglist: @tinysoftie
NAVIGATION
join the taglist <3
#bangchan#bangchan x reader#bangchan fluff#bangchan skz#chan skz#chan x you#bangchan fic#bangchan headcanons#bangchan stray kids#chan fic#stray kids#skz#chan fluff#cuddling#best friends to lovers#bang chan#skz fluff#skz x reader#skz imagines
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
chan x reader. hurt and lots of comfort. description of an anxiety attack and its aftermath (based on my own experiences).
please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you
If you remain still long enough, breathe as quietly as you can muster, would the world forget you exist and pass your anxiety along to somebody else?
A selfish question, perhaps, but one that you can’t help but ask as you sit on your freezing bathroom floor, knees tightly hugged to your chest.
You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve sat in this position. Time suddenly seemed elusive to you, as if a concept too hard for your frantic heart to grasp. All you knew was the ache of your limbs and the feeling that doom was just around the corner.
It was one of those days where you woke up feeling anxious. As if your brain had made up its mind about you in your sleep, deciding to hold you hostage to your anxiety. The bed was cold, your boyfriend Chan long gone to his studio, his lingering cologne the only indication he was ever there. So, you tried to distract yourself throughout the day— going on a walk, listening to music, cleaning your house, but it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help you.
So here you were, hours later, sat on your bathroom floor, trying to calm yourself down, all alone. But you could tell that it wasn't working, that you were on a losing race against your own body. Soon, you wouldn't be able to control your anxiety, soon it would turn into a full blown attack.
You wanted to call Chan, you truly did, but he was busy, and you refused to be a burden. Especially since he told you through texts that he'd be home late, so that definitely meant that he was making a new track in his studio.
So, you settled on rocking yourself back and forth, your hands slowly moving up to your shoulders, patting yourself down. This is what you used to do before knowing Chan. When you didn't have anyone around you who understood. You’d trick your bruised mind into believing you were hugged, the warmth of your own touch easing your anxiety a little.
But tonight it had the opposite effect. Tonight, you broke down in sobs, your breathing more irregular than ever. You curled into a ball on the floor, your hand moving to your chest in a futile attempt to slow down your heart. You could no longer breathe, the air in your lungs morphing into unkind fingers, choking you from within. White dots started dancing in front of your eyes, as your entire being shook like a lone leaf, left to fend for itself before the unyielding winds.
It suddenly got too much— the sobs, the pain, the ache. You couldn't bare it anymore. So with trembling hands, you unlocked your phone, calling the only person who would be able to calm you down. Chan. You put the phone on speaker, before tossing it on the ground next to you. You couldn't even muster the energy to hold it to your ear.
“Hi my love, I'm a bit busy right now can I call you later?” Chan's rushed words ring through the bathroom, your anxiety intensifying before the possible antidote. “Honey?” he asks again when he doesn’t hear your reply.
“Chan—“ you sob, the only word your weighted tongue allows you to speak of.
“I’m here, I'm here baby. I'm coming right now,” his panicked voice rings through your ears, following the frantic rush of your boiling blood. The sound of shuffling indicates that he’s getting up and leaving the studio, the confused ‘what’s going on?’ Han shouts confirms it.
The only reply you give him is your sobs, and his heart constricts, twists and turns at the sound of your cries. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath with me, please—” his voice breaks, “please baby.”
You try, with all your will, to force a steady breath to rise from your stomach to the tip of your tongue. It escapes faintly, but Chan catches it. “You’re doing well, baby. Fuck—” he turns on his car’s engine. “Um… Minho bit my ass today.”
His words catch you off guard, the gears in your mind stopping for a split second. You remember a faint conversation under your covers, months ago, when you told him that distractions help you when you’re anxious. Force you to redirect your thinking somewhere else.
He remembered.
“Was it tasty?” you breathe out, and he chuckles, a sweet sound intermingled with a sigh of relief. “I don’t know, I need to ask him baby.”
You nod though he can’t see you, willing yourself to breathe again. In, out, in, out, Chan’s own breathing guiding you. “Should I bite him in return?” he asks. Tears pool in your eyes once again. “I’m close, so close,” he reassures.
“Okay.”
“To the biting?”
“Mm,” you manage to hum, as you hear the door of your apartment open, Chan's hurried steps echoing in your home. You knew he was looking for you but you couldn't call out to him. After painfully long seconds, stretching out as if to torture you even more, he finally opens the bathroom floor.
He finally finds you.
“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he wastes no time before scooping you into his arms and hugging you. He knows that the pressure eases your anxiety so he tightens his hold without you having to say so, pulling you as close as two pages of the same book.
With you on his lap, he starts rocking back and forth, his words coming out a jumble mess. He can’t settle on what to say to you, switching between stupid jokes his friends told him, and words of reassurance he repeats like a promise.
His words break, his tongue faltering each time your sob gets louder, but he speaks. He speaks and speaks for twenty minutes, all to distract you, all to keep you grounded, and safe.
After a long while, the storm finally passes, leaving behind an excruciating exhaustion. You turn into a puddle in his hold, softening like malleable clay. He holds you as gently as a porcelain vase.
His warm palms settle atop your cheeks, his eyes gazing into yours for the first time since he got here. A sheen glaze taints them, one you know is mirrored in your own. His thumbs gently swipe away your remaining tears, grazing your face with a tenderness that makes your being ache. Your lips press a faint kiss onto his palm, his find their way to your forehead, and you feel it all, through his kiss. His fear, his relief, his love, soft and gentle, for you.
“Thank you,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse as you kiss his forehead back.
“I’ve got you my love. Always,” he smiles at you softly, his dimples appearing like the sun after a cold day.
“Did Minho really bite you?” you giggle faintly, and he scratches his ear sheepishly. “No, but I don’t put it past him to do it.”
“Is that something you’re into?” You cock a teasing eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Only if it’s you,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist, picking you up swiftly.
“I’ll consider,” you yawn, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face finding a refuge in the crook of his neck.
“Why thank you,” he smiles as he leads you to your bedroom, settling you gently atop the bed. He quickly climbs in with you, bringing you so close to him, his warmth ends up spreading through your entire being, filling up every nook and cranny of your soul.
“I think as long as you’re near, I’ll always be okay,” you say, as your eyes close slowly, you miss the tender smile that blooms in his face at your words.
“Good thing I exist to be near you, then.”
please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you
#this was actually the first thing ive ever written for skz#though i never posted it// i just tweaked it a bit today#im posting it mainly to reach more ppl in stayblr for the donations but please enjoy regardless!#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x you#stray kids imagine#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#skz reactions#stray kids reactions#skz fluff#skz angst#stray kids fanfic#stray kids angst#chan x reader#chan x you#chan fluff#chan angst#skz hurt/comfort#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios
811 notes
·
View notes
Text
౨ৎ voicemails lee chan leaves you while he’s on tour - fluff (with a pinch of angst), established relationship, gn!reader (pet names used: baby, sweetie)
...one: hi baby, so we just landed. i can't wait to get to the hotel, i'm exhausted. hope you're sleeping well too, i'll call you in the morning. love you
…two: huh, i think i forgot how it feels to sleep without you. i couldn’t fall asleep yesterday, at all. did you, um, did you sleep well? or is it me just overreacting maybe
...three: why did you turn off your location, baby? you're acting suspicious again, and i'm scared. don’t think for a second i forgot about that last prank you pulled
...four: what are you up to today? any plans? make sure to eat before you go out, and text me when you have some time
...five: hi, so this is seungcheol. shut up dino, or i won’t give you the phone back. your boyfriend got a bit, eee, drunk, and he wanted to call you to tell you something. someone hold him back or else. the point is, he was too drunk to dial himself so i had to do it for him. dino come here, and say what you want to say. I LOVE YOUUUU
...six: shit, i was so drunk yesterday. i hope i didn’t say anything embarrassing. i’m sure the boys would stop me if i was about to make a fool out of myself, though (pause) yeah, they definitely wouldn’t stop me
...seven: i checked the weather back home, and it’s so cold. make sure to wear my coat that i left you sweetie, it’s the one that you like so much. if you need any hoodies or sweatshirts you can always borrow mine
...eight: saranghae nunbit
...nine: i never would've imagined a game of monopoly could be that intense
...ten: i miss you a lot, you know? i didn't want to tell you earlier, so you wouldn't think i'm clingy, but i really do miss you. do you think we can talk over face time? i don't want to fall asleep alone tonight
taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom
#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#svt reactions#seventeen fluff#seventeen carat#seventeen kpop#svt fluff#lee chan#lee chan fluff#chan fluff#dino fluff#dino seventeen#svt dino#dino x reader#dino x you#dino x y/n#lee chan x reader#lee chan x you#seventeen reaction#seventeen headcanons
827 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.2k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, berry being the perfect girl she is. inspired by these bubble messages and @cosmic-railwayxo's treachery. (love u deni)
𝟬𝟲:𝟯𝟲 — “Where’s my baby, hm?”
This is the question on Chan’s lips the moment he lets go of the bedroom door, closed with agonizing caution as to not wake the figure still curled up under the duvet inside.
It’s early. Early enough so the walls are colored a rich beige by new rays of sunlight, so his footsteps are the only sound reverberating around the hallways when he commences his search. Early enough to evidence how he was only bestowed a few hours of sleep before waking up with a budding headache and leaden eyelids.
But he doesn’t mind the lack of rest, not this time. Not when there’s a wad of love with a freckled snout and floppy ears under the same roof for the first time in too long.
“Berry?” Chan calls, his voice tattered and low, like sandpaper. He rakes his eyes over the spots he remembers to be her favorite. Maybe they’ve changed since he was last home. Maybe everything has changed since he was last home.
The thought causes a familiar pang to go off within him, poignant and powerful, but the quiet scuffle of paws against hardwood takes the edge off the guilt straightaway.
Chan finds the beginnings of a smile on his lips before she even rounds the corner, and when she does, well. His grin might as well split his face down the middle. He’s on his knees in seconds, outstretched hands rediscovering home in the puppy’s silky fur as she clambers onto him with blown pupils and excited pants.
His adoring coos of her name falter into muted laughter, which then fragments into a sob. His vision narrows to his precious girl and then starts to blur. When Berry climbs up to give his cheek a few happy licks, she’s fascinated by its saltiness.
You emerge from the bedroom a little over an hour later. Sleeping is hard enough when you’re jetlagged, and even harder when there’s only mattress where you remember Chan’s warm solidity to be. The fabric of Chan’s hoodie suppresses your vocalization of his name as you ungracefully pull it over your torso, still struggling to rouse your body from sleep.
Your beckon produces no response. You wrap a hand around the nearest door frame and peek your head into the living room, a little more alert now.
“Chan? Baby?”
You feel silly. How many visits has it been for you to still feel this nervous, wandering around Chan’s family home? Yet you undoubtedly are, whether because of your absentee boyfriend or that his whole family is a few walls away. You pad through the silent abode with mounting trepidation and intense care to not make any more sound than necessary.
Then you reach the family room and instantly come to a standstill, hands drifting to your sides, features deliquescing to a soft smile.
Lying on the nearest couch is your boyfriend, head propped up on top of his elbow, his fluttering lashes and gently oscillating shoulders indicating that he’s asleep. You can’t see his face below his eyes, as he has his nose nuzzled into the Cavalier spaniel resting securely in his arms, snoring tacitly into his sleeve, slumbering as deeply as her human companion.
You’ve been stumbling upon Chan sleeping in unexpected places for the better part of two years now, but you still liquefy every time as if it’s the first. These are the moments, you’ve come to realize, when you can care for him in ways he would never let you while conscious: a lift of his laptop off his thighs, a brush of your lips against his hairline, a cardigan draped lightly over his back. These are the moments when you understand in full how far you’ve come together, for him to trust you with his exhaustion with such transparency, to be so vulnerable as to leave you with memories of him that he’ll never have.
Despite your prolonged experience, it’s hard to describe what exactly you’re feeling in this moment. The mere mention of Berry has always dissipated the shadows that veil his face, has always chased off the burdens that cling to his spine. How do you put it into words, seeing your happiness at his happiest?
It suddenly occurs to you that the window beside them is cracked open. That, and you spotted extra quilts in the top shelf of Chan’s closet last night.
Chan’s eyelids lift when he feels the gentle weight of a blanket fall upon his body; so do the corners of his lips, when the culprit materializes before him. Sitting on the edge of the couch, a hand hovering over his frame, face creased into a flinch.
“Sorry,” you whisper, closing the distance between your fingers and the curve of his neck. The pad of your thumb moves over his cheekbone like a willow branch skimming water. “I didn’t think that would wake you up.”
Both of you up, you mentally amend, seeing as Berry has noticed your presence and is wagging her tail with enough vigor for it to thump against Chan’s chest. He lets her wriggle out of his arms and into yours; you emit a noise of glee and gather her into you.
If only you had seen the expression he wears then, watching your eyes scrunch closed at the frenzied kisses she presses to your face. His first love and his very last.
“Don’t apologize,” he answers. “I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you in bed, I just…”
His voice trails off, but he knows by the softness in your irises when they meet his that you already know.
You move like clockwork. Chan presses up into the back of the couch, the quilt’s edge lifted in wordless invitation. It is your chest that Berry burrows into this time, the top of her head sliding into the space between your chin and the sofa’s cushion. It is Chan’s chest that you’re folded into, the arms around your waist like the coziest of cabins in a sun-spattered wood. It is the back of your neck that he nuzzles his nose into, but not before he litters gossamer kisses across the expanse of skin, as if printing the notes to a lullaby he knows well.
Everything is warm, so warm, so right, and jetlag starts to feel like a distant trouble.
You open your mouth while teetering on the cusp of a dream.
“Baby?”
He hums into you, listening.
“Always be happy, okay?”
You don’t notice the solitary tear that traverses the bridge of his nose, lands in the cotton of your hood, and dyes the bunched-up fabric a few shades darker. You don’t notice how his embrace around you tightens marginally, like how one’s eyes can’t help but find their dearest possession when the building’s on fire.
“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your nape once more. Your and Chan’s eyes close together. Berry licks your chin again, then follows suit.
(Another hour later, Chan’s parents walk into the family room. They decide to go out to breakfast for fear of making too much noise in the kitchen, Chan’s mother blotting away tears as she ducks into shotgun, Chan’s father laughing at her sentimentality while blinking back his own.
Another few hours later, Hannah takes maybe fifty-some photographs of the triad of unmoving heaps occupying their couch. Then she grumbles at Berry for being dead asleep at eleven in the morning: “Those two arrived here from across the world yesterday. What’s your excuse?”)
🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8
© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support.
#bang chan fluff#bang chan x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#skz x reader#skz fluff#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#bang chan imagines#chan x reader#chan fluff#chan imagines#bang chan x you#bang chan scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#stray kids soft hours#*writing#*drabble#*d: chan#k-labels
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
𓆩Mochi Boyfriend Channie𓆪
gn!reader | he was top of the poll :3 Lix's will be posted tomorrow and then I will only make more if somebody requests other member versions <3 MDNI!! smut/NSFW below the cut
Mochi Channie who introduces you to the boys pretty early on, mainly because they begged to meet their new parent but also because they are his whole life, so it's important to him that you all get along. Their opinion is important to him so when they all approve of you instantly (and you handle them well), he’s through the roof
Mochi Channie who is shy about skinship, especially in front of the others, but will tank through it just to see the smile and blush covering your face (as if his ears aren't bright red)
Mochi Channie who encourages you to allow him to spoil you and eases you into it with smaller things like buying you small snacks, then ordering your favorite food after you’ve had a long day and showing up unannounced with it and your favorite treats, then finally will ease you into accepting brand name jewelry/clothes or any gifts that are generally expensive/valuable
Mochi Channie who puts everything (that he can) on pause to answer your texts and calls, even cutting himself off mid sentence when he sees your contact show up with a distressed message
Mochi Channie who calls you every morning and night when he's on tour, even when he's exhausted and doesn't want to do any talking. He'll sit there and listen to you talk about your day and falls asleep to the sound of your voice and the comfort of seeing you beside him once again
Mochi Channie who gives you secret sneak peeks into their latest endeavors, 1. so you know what he is doing at all times and 2. so he can see your eyes sparkle at events you find particularly interesting
Mochi Channie who gives you sneak peaks into songs like he did in Chan's room, only giving you a second or so of noise and then being a tease and leaving you hanging
Mochi Channie who, if you puppy dog eye him at a particular demo that sounds interesting, literally can not resist you and will show you as much of the song as you want/as he is comfortable with
Mochi Channie who, over time, opens up more and will eventually start taking your compliments to heart (Chris if ur reading this you WILL love urself. 🔫<3)
Mochi Channie who is a fast learner: memorizes every little thing about you within a week of figuring out. New favorite food or drink? Knows the exact order and your preferred store of purchase. New favorite song or movie? Always plays it whenever he can.
Mochi Channie who indirectly asks stay for opinions on gifts for you. Goes on Bubble to send a picture of some items and a message along the lines of "Which do you want? haha." he reads through the replies and tallies them, using the final count to make a decision
Mochi Channie who may be inexperienced at first, but again is a very fast learner. So much so that by the 3rd or 4th time you guys are having sex, he knows your body to the same degree as, if not better, than you
Mochi Channie who has every spot that makes you squirm, every angle that makes you cry out, and every kink that makes your legs weak engrained in his head
Mochi Channie who won’t hesitate to fulfill your needs of him being rougher. also not hesitating to sit you down to discuss specifics and put rules in space
Mochi Channie who researches new positions, trying the most interesting out in order to figure out which one feels the best and has you shaking the fastest
Mochi Channie who gives you whiplash the first time he's rough with you. He wine and dines you while being his usual soft and lovey dovey self.. until he's not
Daddy Chris who pins you to the front door the second it's closed, pushing his thick lips against yours in a sloppy make out session
Daddy Chris who spends over an hour on just foreplay (mainly edging hehe), wanting things to be perfect and wanting you to be as relaxed as possible before he loses control
Daddy Chris who eases himself into you gently, like he normally does, but gives you whiplash when he starts to fuck into you meanly
Daddy Chris who "You asked for it, so just fucking take it. You promised you would be good for me, remember baby?"
Daddy Chris who does nothing but smirk and thrust harder when you cry out about how good he feels and how close you are despite the fact that he just started fucking into you
Daddy Chris who likes to put you in doggy so he can sneak a hand in your hair to pull you back-to-chest with him, giving him free rein to whisper filthy things in your ear while keeping you close
Daddy Chris who goes back and forth with his words. One second telling you things like how “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Taking me so well” and the next second saying things like “Aww it's too much? Good. Take this fucking dick, baby. It's made just for you."
Daddy Chris who pulls as many orgasms from you as he can before he's finished, sweet talking you through every. single. one. so he can watch you squirm below him with the biggest smirk on his face
Daddy Chris who only ends the night after you're overstimulated out your mind, tears running down your face and drool sliding down your chin
Daddy Chris who cleans you up, pressing sweet kisses to your temple and whispering soothing words to calm you down. He holds you close in the shower and at first just lets the hot water fall onto your skin before he washes you both
Mochi Channie who goes on like normal the next day, as if he didn't fuck you within an inch of your life the night before
Mochi Channie who still gets red in the face when you two show any skinship in front of the boys, but is more confident now that he realizes how deep in you both are <3
#sian’s writing#stray kids fluff#stray kids smut#stray kids drabbles#stray kids x reader#skz fluff#skz smut#skz drabbles#skz x reader#bang chan fluff#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan imagines#chan fluff#chan smut#chan x reader#chan x reader smut#chan imagines
535 notes
·
View notes
Text
Living with Chan
You give Chan little kisses. You wake him up in the morning and bring him coffee. Getting back into bed with him so you can drink it together. You love grocery shopping with him. You pick out fruits and vegetables. Putting too many snacks and junk food in the cart and he gives you a stern look. You have warm summer nights with him where you sit outside together and the world just quiets for a while. And it's just the sound of the two of you.
You let him drive so you can recline your seat and play your music. You agree to let him play his playlist on the ride home. You hold his hand while he drives until he needs to turn and takes his hand back, but only for a moment. Then his hand is right back in yours. You sing loudly and Chan just listens and hums along. He loves the sound of you truly enjoying yourself. Your laughter, your joy. It's better than any song he's ever heard.
a/n: just some fluff about my favorite guy. Nothing too long or in depth. Just what was on my mind. <3
#stray kids#skz smut#stray kids smut#bang chan#chan#writing#chan x reader#bang chan smut#christopher bang#skz#bang chan x reader#bang chan stray kids#bang chan fluff#bang chan fanfic#chan fluff#chan fanfic#chan fic#bang chan x you#chan x you
498 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
dikos-sou
Nik
sashrendar
M/37/Canadian. Knowlege is infinite.
mannyalem
Manny Alem
xii-vii-mcmxcv
amorevolous