channawrites

[channawrites]

SHORT N' SWEET ۶ৎ YUNHO

CH01 Slim Pickins

You meet Yunho, a leather-clad bad boy who's the talk of the town (for all the wrong reason). What starts as stolen glances at a party soon grows into something deeper. Your friends tell you to stay away from him, but if only you'd listen...

It's the summer of 1967, where the world is changing but so were you

Inspired by some of the tracks from the Short N Sweet album!

Pairing: Bad Boy!Yunho x Heiress!Reader

Content: Horny Reader, Smut, Size Difference, Cock warming, Freaky positions, Fuzzy pink handcuffs, Beach Sex, Car sex, Blow jobs, Oral Sex!

Note: As you may have noticed this has sexual content so if that makes you uncomfortable don't interact with the posts related to it!

NEXT

Thornfield Hall was a vast estate that had belonged to your family for nearly eight generations.

You had grown up confined in its walls, just as your father and his siblings had, and their father before them.

It was the largest mansion in Oakmere Falls, an imposing symbol of your family’s legacy.

Anyone passing by the estate gates couldn’t help but stop and stun at its beauty.

Your family’s fortune rose from a popular health and wellness brand that had become a household name in the country.

According to your father, it all began as a humble traditional apothecary, before growing into the well known Lifebloom brand.

And now, as one of the heirs, the weight of that legacy rested on your shoulders.

Growing up in high society had always felt suffocating, especially as the youngest in a family that consisted of a majority of men.

Your older sister had faced the same fate, but she embraced it with grace, fitting perfectly into the mold society had carved out for her.

You, however, had always been the rebellious one, the sharpest tongued in the family, a misfit who refused to play by the rules most of the times.

Your father blamed the books you read and the music you listened to.

But the truth was, this was simply who you were, a woman that refused to change herself to fit someone else’s narrative.

But then, Genevieve got engaged. It wasn’t her choice, it was just a business move.

And, of course, the marriage of the eldest daughter to the only son and heir of a multi million dollar company would benefit your family in countless ways.

In Dad’s eyes, the Lifebloom brand came first. Everything else was second.

Even family.

When Genevieve moved in with her husband's family, it was as if the spotlight suddenly had shifted to you.

Now, everyone needed to know your schedule, where you were, and who you were with. It wasn’t exactly new, but it became worse.

Which is why, as you walk arm in arm with your best friend, Camille, your chauffeur waits outside the newly inaugurated mall.

“It’s been hell,” you tell her. “It was this much of a fuss just to come here and see you… It’s like I’m not even my own person anymore. I wish Genevieve could come back.”

Angie pats your arm, glancing at the window displays. “They’re just being protective, darlin’! You’re their only daughter now, it’s more than normal.”

“But controlling my every move?”

“Let’s not forget, you’re not like other girls. You’re an heiress.” She shrugs. “I’m sure this’ll pass with time.”

That was the only thing you could hope for.

“Do you think they’ll let me go to Penelope’s party?”

“They have to!” Angie exclaims. “You can’t miss it. Plus…” She glances around, making sure no one is listening, then leans in. “We’re planning to check out one of those abandoned house parties up close.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock. Of course, you’d heard about them, but that wasn’t something your friends had ever shown interest in before.

There was an old abandoned building near the lake, just minutes from the town center. Apparently, it was a well-kept secret among the youth, not even the cops knew about it.

Those parties were filled with dancing, alcohol, sex, and illicit drugs you hadn’t even heard of before.

“We’d get in real trouble if we got caught.”

“We won’t! We’ll just take a peek from afar… Pen’s real curious, Sally is still skeptical but she always tags along” Angie adds. “Are you in?”

“I don’t know… I’m not cruisin’ for a bruisin’,” you sigh. “But if we’re careful enough, there’s no way we could get into trouble.”

You and Angie continue shopping. You find the perfect white pumps with delicate bows to wear to Penelope’s dinner party, along with a beautiful pearl necklace to match.

As you step out of a store with your friend, your attention is drawn to a group of boys sitting near the palm tree fountain.

They look like they’ve stepped right out of an action movie. Leather jackets, effortlessly hip.

And then, when you look up, your gaze locks with one of them.

He’s tall, his round eyes giving him a puppy like look. A strawberry lollipop stains his lips red, and his slicked-back hair, held in place with wax, reveals his forehead, except for a single strand falling over his eye.

He’s handsome. Very handsome.

He holds your gaze as he runs a hand through his hair and winks.

Your breath catches. Quickly, you turn away and signal Angie to keep walking.

“Who were they? I’ve never seen them before…” you ask, heart still racing.

“I don’t know, but they looked like trouble. Guys like that aren’t even allowed to fantasize about rich girls like us.”

“Y-Yeah…” you stammer.

Your parents allow you to go to Penelope’s party, but under one condition: the chauffeur must pick you up and drop you off at specific times.

You still don’t know how you’ll sneak away to the abandoned house party, but you’ll find a way.

You always find a way.

Your dress is periwinkle, falling just below your knees. Three buttons run down the front like Orion’s Belt. The waist is cinched, accentuating your curves, and the bodice is fitted.

Pearls rest against your neck, and your earrings are delicate golden flowers.

As you slip on your gloves, preparing to leave for the party, there’s a knock at your door.

“Come in,” you call, grabbing a bottle of perfume from your vanity.

Your brother steps inside, his posture firm as always.

“I want you home by ten. Sharp.” His tone is authoritative.

“Dad said eleven, and his word is final.”

“Where’s the party?”

“None of your business.”

“Y/N.”

“Stephan.”

He exhales deeply. “I’ll up waiting for you to arrive. Dad ordered me to.”

“I don’t need you to do that. Ronald is a great chauffeur, he always picks me up on time.”

“I know. But still.” He steps closer, looking you in the eye. “I heard about the abandoned house.”

You gulp.

“Just know, that’s no place for a girl like you. People talk, and word spreads easily.”

You want to ask him how he knows about the abandoned house, but you keep your words to yourself.

“I have no clue about what you’re talking about! The dinner is at a nice restaurant. I’ll be home before you know it.”

He kisses your forehead. “We only do this to protect you.”

You sigh. “I know.”

Ronald drops you off in front of the restaurant, where all your friends are already waiting.

The place is classy, five-stars. The menu is traditionally French.

“Good evening, my lovely ladies,” you greet them as you arrive.

“Y/N, you’re finally here!” Angel beams.

Sally follows. “Y/N, I love your dress!”

“Oh, what’s that perfume? I swear I could smell it the moment you walked in,” Penelope teases.

You grin. “Pen, happy birthday, my dear friend.” You hug her, then hand her a small, elegant box. “I think you’ll love these.”

“Thank you so much, Y/N!” She claps her hands, excited. When she opens the box, her eyes widen in delight. “These are beautiful! I’m putting them on right now.”

The night is filled with gossip and laughter.

After a while, you lower your voice. “Is it true? Are we really going… you know where?”

“Indeed,” Penelope confirms, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I know it’s wrong, but curiosity got the best of me. My brother mentioned it, and I had to see for myself. Of course, we won’t actually attend, we’ll just take a quick look and be back before anyone notices.”

“I have a little problem,” you say. “My chauffeur is waiting outside. He’ll see us leave…”

They all glance at Angel.

“Well…” Sally hesitates, shifting uncomfortably.

“We’ll sneak out through the bathroom window!” Angel suggests.

“Sneaking out?” Sally gasps, wide eyed.

“We’ll be back before your chauffeur even notices,” Penelope assures you.

“Deal.”

“You guys aren’t thinking this through,” Sally protests. “If our parents find out, we’re dead. And what if we see something we don’t want to?”

“Oh, Sally, don’t be such a wet rag! We’re young ladies we should enjoy life’s simple pleasures. Besides, aren’t you just a little curious?” you tease.

Angel and Penelope nod eagerly.

“I-I guess… But only for ten minutes!” Sally relents. “Then we come straight back.”

“Yes!”

“Girls, is it safe?” Sally whispers as Angel and Penelope give her a leg up.

“Yeah, now go!” you urge, helping her climb through the window.

One by one, you all squeeze through.

When it’s your turn, you stand on your tiptoes, gripping the windowsill. With a push, you hoist yourself up, your friends helping you over.

Once all four of you are on the other side, you cheer softly.

“Now, lead the way,” Angel tells Penelope.

“We follow the road past the old Cola factory, then walk straight for fifteen minutes… We should get there.”

“You guys… it’s really dark out here…” Sally mutters after a while of walking. “We should’ve thought this through. What if there’s an assassin?”

“Oakmere Falls and assassins don’t even go together. And if there was one, we’d just run!” Penelope teases.

You giggle. This moment reminds you of when the four of you were little, sneaking out of your parents' parties and gatherings to cause mischief.

The number of times you’d all been grounded together was countless.

Angel and Penelope had always been the troublemakers, while Sally hesitated the most, always afraid of the consequences.

But deep down, you knew she was grateful for every little adventure.

Like the first time Penelope had snuck into your room with one of her father’s cigars, and the four of you smoked it by the window.

Both you and Sally had thrown up, and before long, your brother, Daniel, had caught you.

He promised not to tell your fathers, on the condition that you did his math homework for a month.

Now, as the distant sound of music and cheers reaches your ears, excitement sparks between you.

“They’re playing Elvis!” Penelope swoons.

Then, through the trees, you spot the abandoned house. It’s smaller than you expected.

People are packed inside, their silhouettes moving against the dim glow of light escaping through the windowless walls.

“You guys,” you whisper, “I can’t believe we’re actually here.”

“Should we get closer?” Angel whispers.

“No, I’m good right here,” Sally says, arms crossed.

But as you and the others inch forward, she sighs and reluctantly follows.

The four of you crouch low, careful not to be seen, then sneak toward a broken window to peek inside.

You quitly gasp.

Men and women sway together to the music, their bodies pressed in ways that make your cheeks burn hot.

Beer bottles litter the floor, and among them, little paper wraps dusted with white powder.

“This is a sin house!” Sally whisper yells.

“I need to see more,” you murmur, creeping along the side of the house.

Your white pumps are already stained with dirt, but right now, you don’t care.

Step by step, you edge your way to a clearer opening.

You duck down, heart racing, as you peek around the corner.

And then…

A small gasp escapes your lips.

You slap a hand over your mouth, desperate to keep quiet.

You had never seen a naked body besides your own, let alone a man’s.

Your cheeks feel hot, your body tenses like a pine tree as you observe the scene bearing right in front of your eyes.

Both of them are lost in the moment, too deep in what this carnal pleasure jolts in them.

The women’s breasts are perky, nipples like rosebuds and she moves her body along the man’s, like waves crashing into each other in perfect sync. It’s like they’re dancing.

You feel your whole body growing hot, a tension between your legs.

Then you realize they’re not the only ones.

There are more people inside the room, all lost in what feels good. What feels right for them.

Some of them aren’t just in pairs, there are three, even four tangled together.

How is that even possible?

Unbelievable.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Your heart leaps. You spin around, eyes wide, only to find several people inside the room now staring at you.

Panicked, you quickly duck behind the wall.

When you look to the front your eyes seem to shine like stars in a night sky.

It was him.

The guy from the mall.

"I-I’m sorry! I’ll leave!" you stammer, turning to escape.

But before you can take another step, his hand wraps around your arm.

"No, don’t," he says smoothly. "We can join them if you’d like."

Your entire face burns. You whip around to glare at him.

"Get your dirty hands off me!" you hiss through gritted teeth.

"Oh? You’re watching people fuck, and I’m the dirty one?" He smirks. "Alright."

"You-you didn’t have to put it like that," you sputter.

He tugs you a little closer, and that’s when his scent hits you. Clean, intoxicating, laced with cologne.

Your breath hitches as he leans in, whispering, "I’m Yunho."

"Hm?" His presence is so overwhelming that it takes a second to register what he said.

"This is when you tell me your name, toots."

"Y/N. I’m Y/N," you manage.

A slow grin spreads across his face. "What a beautiful name." His gaze flickers to where his fingers still rest on your arm before he finally releases you. "Sorry if I came on too strong. Couldn’t let a doll like you run away from me."

"Stop calling me that."

"Hmm. But you are a doll," he muses. "Too fancy to be here, I suppose. What’s a fragile little thing like you doing in a scummy place like this?"

"You ask too many questions."

"A spitfire." He chuckles, tilting his head. "You’re really my type, you know that?"

He looks different from when you saw him at the mall. His white denim jacket is paired with dark blue jeans, his white shirt neatly tucked into his waistband.

Effortlessly cool.

Dangerous.

And staring at you like he’s found something interesting in a place like that. A little diamond hidden there.

"Come with me?"

"I-I can't. My friends are waiting for me."

"Let them wait," he says, stepping dangerously close.

This man, really.

"We're not even supposed to be here. We'll get into trouble."

"Oh, really?"

"Hm."

He lifts your chin gently between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look up at him.

"You really are gorgeous," he murmurs. "How can I see you again?"

"I-"

"POLICE!"

Both of you snap your heads toward the house as the sudden shout fills the air.

"Fuck, it’s the fuzz," Yunho curses under his breath.

Before you can even process what’s happening, his hand is in yours.

"Come on," he says, tugging you forward.

He runs, leading you through the trees, your fingers tightly laced with his.

You try to keep up, but every step feels like a nightmare in your pumps.

So much for being a young lady, why couldn't they make elegant shoes comfortable?

"I-I can’t run anymore, my feet hurt," you gasp.

Yunho immediately stops and pulls you behind a tree, pressing you close against him.

"Shhh…" He brings a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay quiet.

Your hands instinctively rest on his pecs, as you press into him, chest heaving.

Your heart pounds, both from the adrenaline of running and from how incredibly close you are to him.

Your mind flashes back to the scene inside the abandoned house. The way those people moved against each other. The way they touched.

Heavy footsteps approach, and you bury your face in Yunho’s chest, barely breathing.

His hand settles on your head, a quiet reassurance.

"Who's there?" A deep voice calls out. "Come on out now."

You squeeze your eyes shut, but your breathing grows shallow.

"I don’t think anyone’s here," another voice responds. "They couldn’t have gotten far so fast."

Silence stretches for several agonizing moments.

When you finally dare to peek, there’s no one. The voices are gone.

You exhale in relief and glance up at Yunho. His eyes are closed, his breath still uneven. You can feel his heartbeat through his chest.

Your gaze falls to his lips.

Something takes over you.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline.

Maybe it’s the thrill of sneaking out.

Maybe it’s him.

But before you can overthink it, you push up onto your tiptoes and press your lips against his.

It’s your first kiss.

Your entire life, you’d never had the chance to even stand close to a guy.

Your parents had made sure of that, an elite all-girls school, strictly chosen female friends, and the rule that whenever your brother’s friends were over, you had to stay locked in your room.

But now, standing here, pressed against Yunho, you refuse to let the moment slip away.

He kisses you back, his hands gripping your waist, holding you firmly against him.

His lips are warm like syrup, commanding, sending shivers down your spine. Then he tilts his head, grazing your bottom lip lightly with his teeth.

His hands completely engulf you, making you feel smaller, delicate. He touched you as if you’re made of porcelain.

When he pulls away, you instinctively chase after him, lips tingling. Your head is spinning.

"You’ve never kissed anyone before, have you?" he asks with a knowing smirk.

"Was I that bad?" you mumble, fingers brushing over your lips.

"Not at all. You taste sweet." He lets out a low chuckle. "Had to stop myself before I went crazy. But you really are a little glass doll, aren’t you?"

"S-Stop."

"I think we should get going."

That’s when reality comes crashing down.

Sally.

Angel.

Penelope.

Did they get caught? And, oh God, it’s way past the time you were supposed to be home.

"Oh, I’m so doomed!" you gasp. "My father is going to kill me."

"What’s wrong?" Yunho asks, frowning.

"What time is it?"

"10:30."

Your stomach drops.

"Do you think we can get downtown in 30 minutes?"

Yunho’s expression turns serious.

"I’ve got my car with me," he says firmly.

Determined.

Like he’s going to get you there, no matter what it takes

Yunho’s car is parked a few minutes away, just off Old Cola Road. It’s an old thing, he mentioned earlier that he’d put it together himself.

When you reach for the back door to get in, he gives you a look.

“I’m not your chauffeur. Get in the front.”

Right.

“Sorry…” You murmur, quickly correcting yourself. It was just your habit.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you buckle up. The car rumbles before finally starting, and when it does, Yunho wastes no time, speeding down the empty road.

"What a night, huh?" He chuckles, nibbling absentmindedly on his finger.

He’s driving with one hand, completely at ease.

You squeeze your thighs together.

What the hell is wrong with you?

“C-Can you drop me off at the back?” you ask, clearing your throat.

“What? You can’t be seen with me?”

“Technically, yeah.” You fidget with your hands. “I had to sneak out.”

Yunho smirks. “Sneaking out? What, Daddy doesn’t let you go out with your little friends?”

You nod, shifting in your seat. “It’s… complicated.”

“Whatever it is, I hope you at least had a bit of fun.” He teases you.

Your cheeks burn at his words. You quickly roll the window down, letting the cold air soothe your skin.

Yunho gestures toward a building as you pass it. “That’s where I work,” he says, pointing at a mechanic shop near the entrance of Oakmere’s downtown area. “Stop by sometime.”

You don’t respond, but you subconsciously commit the location to memory.

He pulls into the alley behind the restaurant.

“Is this the place?”

You nod. “Thank you, Yunho. Really.”

“No need to thank me, doll.”

You walk to the bathroom window and try to hoist yourself up, but it’s useless.

Before you can struggle further, two strong hands grip your waist.

“There you go, doll,” Yunho murmurs, effortlessly lifting you up.

Your breath catches.

You swing your legs through the window, glancing back at him. “Thank you. Goodbye, Yunho.”

His lips curve slightly. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

When you get home, your brother and father are waiting.

Your father scolds you, and you offer a quick excuse, that you got caught up gossiping and lost track of time.

Once you’re in bed, your thoughts are consumed by worry.

Are Sally, Angel, and Penelope safe?

You decide to call them first thing in the morning.

But when you close your eyes, your mind betrays you.

Yunho.

His lips, his hands, his arms lifting you like you weighed nothing.

You’ll probably never see him again after tonight.

A heat spreads through you, making it impossible to sleep.

And when you finally do drift off, your dreams are filled with him, with his body beneath yours, his hands gripping your hips as you move against him.

Just like the women at the abandoned house.

A/N: i hope you enjoyed the first chapter ! i had much fine writing it :)

i also have lots of stuff planned for them, rn i have 6 chapters planned BUT i may add one or two teehee

love y’all ♡

taglist: @clxssy1997 @posseup @lover-ofallthingspretty @mylovelymito @hwxbibi @yunhogrippers @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @m4n4-s4m4 @staytinyluv @hohongjoong @twosixteenn @mintsugarr93 @lovelystarzhwa @eel-lirc

[channawrites]

✩°⋆｡ system error ⋆｡°✩ - 35

chapter 35 ✧ heartbreak squad

< previous ✧ m.list ✧ next >

synopsis ✧ you've always dreamt of having your fantasy-like love story. naturally, hearing the sweet melodic ring of your love alarm was what you wanted the most, right? until it actually happened. four times.

pairing ✧ uni student! choi san x fem! uni student! reader

warnings/tags ✧ timestamps/numbers don't mean anything, lots of comfort, just losers being the bestest friends ever, heartbreak era continues, yunjin calls reader baby (as usual)

note ✧ not much is happening in this one but we could use some calmness right now...i hope you enjoyed this chapter and as always feedback is always appreciated! my inbox is always open and i love reading your comments and reblogs too <3

taglist ✧ @flamingi @huachengsbestie01 @minihong99 @staytinyluv @luvpeachkes @gh9sty @dawn-iscozy @zaraxnid @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

taglist is open! <3

[channawrites]

TREAT YOU BETTER / C.S

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x softdom!san (ft. Yeonjun of TXT)

Genre ◊ SMUT, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers

Warnings ◊ SMUT (MINORS DNI), softdom!San, sub!reader, oral (male receiving), fingering, a little rough, san is quite big, dirty talk, pet names (baby, sweetheart...), talk about an abusive relationship, emotional vulnerability, aftercare, unprotected sex (if you see anything I haven't put in there, please lmk!)

Word count ◊ 7,2k

Summary ◊ You show up in the middle of the night at San's apartment after your bf Yeonjun broke up with you, but what you do not know is how San is so unconditionally in love with you.

a/n: I portrayed Yeonjun in a certain way here, but don't come for me! I'm a MOA too!

You and San had been best friends for as long as you could remember. Growing up together, sharing secrets and dreams, it was no surprise that you felt entirely at home in his company. San's presence had always been a constant, a comforting backdrop to your life. However, what you hadn't noticed was the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his smile softened when you laughed. He had fallen for you long ago, but he never had the courage to admit it—not to himself, and certainly not to anyone else.

Meanwhile, you had been dating Yeonjun for a few months. At first, everything seemed perfect. He was charming, attentive, and everything you thought you wanted. But as time went on, Yeonjun's true colors began to show. He treated you poorly, his words often harsh and his actions thoughtless. Despite the growing cracks in your relationship, you clung to the hope that things would get better. They never did.

One Friday night, after a particularly brutal argument, Yeonjun broke up with you. His words were cruel, his tone biting, and you were left feeling utterly shattered. Unable to face the emptiness of your apartment, you found yourself standing outside San's door at midnight, your face wet with tears. 

You gently knocked at his door and San opened the door, his eyes widening in shock when he saw you. ‘’Y/n? What happened?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just shook your head, tears streaming down your face. He was quick to take you in his arms, enveloping you in a warm hug before guiding you to his couch. 

"Talk to me," he urged softly, sitting beside you.

You took a deep breath, struggling to find your voice. "Yeonjun... he broke up with me," you finally managed to say, your voice trembling. "We had an awful fight. He was so mean.’’

San's eyes darkened with anger. "That bastard. What did he say to you?’’

You shook your head again, not wanting to recount the hurtful words. "It doesn't matter. I just... I couldn't stay there.’’

San clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "I want to go over there and beat him up. He has no right to treat you like this.’’

"No, San," you said quickly, placing a hand on his arm. "Please don't. It's not worth it. I just need you right now.’’

His expression softened instantly. "Okay. I'm here for you," he promised, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence. He stroked your hair gently, whispering soothing words.

"You deserve so much better," he murmured. "Yeonjun is an idiot for letting you go.’’

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "Do you really think so?’’

"I know so," San replied firmly. "You're amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you.’’

A small smile tugged at your lips despite the pain. "Thank you, San. You're the best friend anyone could ask for.’’

San's heart ached at your words, but he forced a smile. "Anything for you," he said softly. He wished he could tell you how he really felt, how much he loved you, but he didn't want to risk losing your friendship.

San watched as you tried to find comfort on the couch. He hated seeing you like this, so broken and vulnerable. Determined to lift your spirits, even if just a little, he pulled the blanket around you more snugly.

"Hey," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "How about we try to take your mind off things for a bit?’’’

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. ‘’How?’’

San thought for a moment, then smiled. "Remember that time in middle school when we tried to bake a cake for your mom's birthday and ended up setting off the fire alarm?’’

You couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. "Yeah, and the cake was half-burnt, half-raw.’’

"Exactly! And your mom still said it was the best cake she'd ever had because we made it with 'extra love and a dash of chaos,'" San added, grinning.

A small smile played on your lips. "She was always so supportive.’’

San nodded, his eyes twinkling. "She still is. Just like you have so many people who care about you.’’

You sighed, leaning against him. "It's just hard, you know? I really thought Yeonjun was different.’’

"I know," San said, his voice gentle. "But sometimes people aren't who we hope they are. And that’s not your fault.’’ He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. "You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are and treats you with the love and respect you deserve.’’

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling a bit of the tension leave your body. "Thanks, Sannie. I don't know what I'd do without you.’’’

He squeezed your shoulder. "You'd do just fine. You're strong, even if you don't always feel like it.’’

For the next hour, San kept talking, sharing funny stories from childhood and moments that made you both laugh until your sides hurt. He reminded you of the time he tried to impress you by jumping off the highest diving board at the pool, only to belly-flop spectacularly. Or the time you both got lost during a school trip and ended up finding a hidden ice cream parlor that became your secret spot.

"Remember when we made that secret handshake?" he asked, his eyes bright with amusement.

You nodded, a real smile breaking through. "We thought we were so cool.’’

"We were cool," he insisted, demonstrating the complex series of claps and snaps you had created. "We still are.’’

You laughed, following along with the handshake. It felt good to laugh, even if just for a moment. San's presence was like a balm to your wounded heart, his affection and kindness wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

The night wore on, and though the pain of Yeonjun's words still lingered, it was dulled by San's unwavering support. He stayed by your side, talking and laughing. 

San, ever attentive, noticed how your eyes struggled to stay open.

"You look exhausted," he said softly, his hand still gently rubbing your back. ‘’You wanna stay over? You could take my bed.’’

You nodded, stifling a yawn. "I am, but I don't want to take your bed from you. I can sleep on the couch, it’s fine »

San shook his head, his expression firm. "No way. You need a proper bed to sleep in, and you're not arguing with me on this.’’ You tried to protest, but he held up a hand, silencing you. "I insist. Come on, let's get you settled."

He stood up and offered you his hand, helping you to your feet. You were honestly too tired to argue with him, you knew how stubborn he could be. As you reached his bedroom, he pulled back the covers and motioned for you to enter. You hesitated, looking at him with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

"You sure?" you asked, your voice small.

"Positive," he replied firmly. "Now, get in."

You slid into the bed, the soft sheets feeling like a haven after the emotional turmoil of the night. San tucked the blanket around you, his movements gentle and caring.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "No, this is perfect. Thank you, San."

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You're welcome. Try to get some rest, okay? I'll be right outside if you need anything."

You reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly. "You're really the best, you know that?"

San's smile was soft, his eyes filled with unspoken emotions. "I just want you to be okay. Sleep well."

With that, he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You listened to his footsteps as he walked back to the living room, your heart was fluttering. He was just so affectionate and caring. 

San settled onto the couch, pulling the blanket over himself. The couch was familiar, a place he'd often crashed after late-night gaming sessions or movie marathons. But tonight, it felt different. Tonight, he was acutely aware of you in his bed, just a room away, and the vulnerability you'd shown him.

San lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, unable to find any semblance of sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, images of you crying and hurt flashed through his mind. He was consumed by a mix of anger and helplessness, hating Yeonjun for what he'd done to you.

He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work. His mind was too restless, his heart too full of unresolved emotions. He glanced at the clock—2:30 AM. With a frustrated sigh, he sat up, running a hand through his hair.

In the quiet of the living room, the sudden sound of a notification startled him. He looked over and saw your phone on the coffee table, its screen glowing with a new message. Curiosity and concern got the better of him, and he leaned over to see who it was.

It was a message from Yeonjun.

San's jaw clenched as he read the words on the screen:

[Junnie] I hope you're happy. You always find a way to make everything my fault. Good luck with this one.

San felt a surge of anger so intense it made his hands shake. He couldn't believe the audacity of Yeonjun to send such a cruel message after everything he'd put you through. It took every ounce of self-control not to grab his keys and march over to Yeonjun's place right then and there.

Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knew that confronting Yeonjun wouldn't help you right now. You needed him here, not out picking a fight. But he couldn't just ignore the message either. He needed to find a way to protect and shield you from more pain.

He stared at your phone, contemplating whether to wake you up and tell you about the message. But you had finally found some peace, and he didn't want to disturb that. Instead, he decided to keep an eye on your phone for any more messages, ensuring nothing else would upset you tonight.

San stood up, pacing the living room, his mind racing. He needed to focus on something else, anything to keep from stewing in his anger. He went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of chamomile tea, hoping it might help him relax. As he waited for the water to boil, he replayed the night's events in his mind.

"Why can't he just leave her alone?" San muttered to himself, pouring the hot water over the tea bag. "Hasn't he done enough damage?"

He took a sip of the tea, its warmth doing little to soothe his frayed nerves. He wished he could do more for you, wished he could take away all the hurt and replace it with happiness. But he knew that healing took time, and all he could do was be there for you every step of the way.

San returned to the couch, setting the tea on the coffee table. He picked up your phone again, staring at Yeonjun's message. Without thinking, he typed out a reply:

[You] She deserves better than you. Leave her alone.

But he didn't send it. He deleted the message, knowing it wasn't his place to intervene directly. Instead, he placed your phone back on the table and sat down, his head in his hands. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Lost in thought, he nearly jumped when he heard the soft sound of your footsteps approaching. He turned to see you standing in the doorway, looking small and vulnerable in the dim light.

"Sannie, are you still awake?" you asked quietly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he replied, his heart softening as he looked at you. "What's wrong? Do you need something?"

You hesitated, glancing down at your feet before meeting his eyes. "I... I don't want to be alone right now. Can you... can you come to bed with me?"

San's heart skipped a beat. You and he had shared a bed before, back in the days when sleepovers and movie marathons ended with both of you crashing wherever you could. But this felt different, more intimate. He could feel his emotions bubbling up, threatening to spill over.

He took a deep breath, pushing his feelings aside. This wasn't about him; it was about you needing comfort. "Of course," he said gently. "I'll be right there."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, and he followed you back to the bedroom. The room was filled with a soft, calming silence,.

San watched as you climbed back into bed, settling under the blankets. He hesitated momentarily before joining you, lying down on the other side. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, and he turned to face you, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, looking at him with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Yes, thank you. I just... I didn't want to be alone tonight."

"I understand," San said softly. "I'm here for you."

You reached out and took his hand, holding it tightly. The simple gesture sent a rush of warmth through him, and he squeezed your hand in return.

"Do you remember all those sleepovers we used to have?" you asked, your voice tinged with nostalgia.

San smiled, nodding. "Yeah, of course. We used to stay up all night talking and laughing."

You sighed contentedly. "Those were some of the best times. I always felt so safe with you."

San's heart ached with the weight of his unspoken feelings. "And you still are safe with me. Always."

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the gentle sound of your breathing. San struggled internally, fighting the urge to confess everything he felt. But he knew this wasn't the time. You needed comfort, not complications.

San lay there, the steady rhythm of your breathing filling the room. He tried to calm his racing thoughts, but it was nearly impossible with you so close to him. The familiar warmth of your body pressed against his was something he had experienced countless times before, yet tonight it felt different—intensely different.

Every breath you took, every slight movement you made, seemed to send sparks of awareness through him. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest against his side, your head resting on his shoulder, and it was driving him to distraction. He knew it was wrong to feel this way, especially now, but he couldn't help it. The closeness, the intimacy of the moment, was turning him on in a way he hadn't expected.

He tried to shift slightly, hoping to ease the tension in his body, but it only seemed to make things worse. You stirred, tightening your grip on his hand and snuggling closer. San's heart pounded in his chest, and he swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing.

"San?" you murmured sleepily, your voice a soft whisper in the darkness.

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice tight with the effort of keeping his emotions in check.

"Are you okay?" you asked, concern evident even through your drowsiness.

San forced a smile, even though you couldn't see it. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... a lot on my mind."

You shifted slightly, your leg brushing against his. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he had to bite his lip to stifle a groan. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you, too."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I know. It's just... it's nothing. Really."

You were quiet for a moment, your fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of his hand. As you drifted back into sleep, San lay there, his body tense and his mind racing. He couldn't understand why he felt so different this time. You had always been affectionate with each other, cuddling during movie nights or sleepovers, but tonight, the feeling was overwhelming.

He tried to distract himself, focusing on the sound of the rain tapping gently against the window, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The way your hair felt against his cheek, the warmth of your breath on his neck, the soft curves of your body nestled against his.

"Get a grip, San," he muttered to himself, trying to push the thoughts away. "This isn't the time."

But the more he tried to ignore it, the more aware he became of every tiny detail. The subtle scent of your shampoo, the softness of your skin, the way you fit perfectly against him. It was driving him crazy, and he didn't know how much longer he could take it.

You shifted, turning your back to him. For a brief moment, he thought the change in position might help him regain some control over his tumultuous emotions. But then you moved closer, pressing your back firmly against his chest. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around you, his hand resting gently on your stomach.

The intimacy of the position made his heart pound. Your body was so close, so warm, and he could feel every curve pressed against him. His mind raced, and he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

You sighed contentedly, snuggling closer. The movement pressed your body even tighter against his, and he felt a surge of heat rush through him. His mind screamed at him to keep it together, but the sensation of your curves against his chest, the softness of your body, was making it incredibly difficult. He could feel himself getting harder and harder. 

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the feel of you in his arms. He thought about the cold night air, the sound of the rain outside, anything to distract himself from the intoxicating closeness. But every time you shifted slightly, it sent another wave of awareness through him.

As you continued to shift and wiggle, seeking a comfortable position, it became increasingly difficult. Each movement pressed your body closer against him, and he could feel every curve, every contour, of your form against his. It was driving him mad.

You shifted again, your back pressing firmly against his chest, your hips moving slightly. San's breath hitched, and despite his best efforts, he felt himself getting harder. He clenched his jaw, trying to will away the arousal, but it was no use. Your absent-minded movements were too much for him to handle.

‘’Y/n, please stop moving,’’ he whispered hoarsely, his voice strained with the effort of keeping control.

You froze, the sudden tension in his voice startling you. Then you felt it—a hard, undeniable pressure against your lower back. Your eyes widened as realization dawned.

"San..." you whispered, turning your head slightly to look at him over your shoulder. "Is that...?"

San's face flushed with embarrassment. ‘’Fuck, I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

You could see the discomfort and shame in his eyes, and something inside you shifted. You felt a surge of confidence, an unexpected boldness. You turned fully to face him, your heart pounding. Without saying a word, you reached down and placed your hand over his hardness, feeling the heat and firmness through the fabric.

San's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in shock. ‘’Y/n, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You met his gaze, your own eyes filled with a mix of determination and desire. "I want this too," you said softly, your hand gently squeezing him through his pants.

San's heart raced, but he hesitated, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. "You don't have to," he said, his voice strained. "I don't want you to feel pressured or like you owe me anything. Especially not after everything with Yeonjun."

You shook your head, your eyes softening. "San, I want this. I want you."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "But I feel like I'm taking advantage of you. You're vulnerable right now, and I don't want to be another person who hurts you."

You looked at him, your expression serious. "San, you could never hurt me. The real reason Yeonjun and I broke up... it was because of you."

San's eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean?"

You sighed, feeling a weight lift as you prepared to share the truth. "Yeonjun was always jealous of our relationship. He couldn't understand how important you are to me. Last night, he asked me to choose between him and you.’’

San's heart skipped a beat. "And you chose me?"

"Without hesitation," you said firmly. "He couldn't accept that. He accused me of loving you more than him, and honestly, he was right. I do love you more."

San stared at you, a mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. "I had no idea," he whispered. "I never wanted to come between you two."

"You didn't," you replied, your voice steady. "Yeonjun did that himself. And when he forced me to choose, it made me realize just how much you mean to me."

San's heart ached with the weight of your words. "I never wanted to admit it, but I've always loved you," he confessed, his voice trembling. "But I was afraid of ruining our friendship."

You smiled, your eyes shining with tears. "You could never ruin it, San. You've always been there for me, through everything. And now, I want to be here for you."

San felt a surge of emotion, a mix of relief, joy, and overwhelming love. He reached out, cupping your face in his hands, his touch tender. "I love you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity and passion.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice a whisper.

He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. When you didn't, he pressed his lips to yours in a tender, lingering kiss. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down your spine. His lips were soft yet firm, moving against yours with a careful, loving precision. It was a kiss filled with years of pent-up emotions, a kiss that spoke of friendship, love, and unspoken desires.

San's hand moved to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss slightly. You could feel his breath mixing with yours, the warmth of his body so close to yours. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, as if he were memorizing the feel of you.

As the kiss continued, it grew more intense. The emotions that had been building up inside both of you for so long now found their release. His kisses became more urgent, his lips moving against yours with a newfound hunger. He tilted his head to gain better access, his tongue slipping out to gently trace your lower lip before seeking entrance.

You parted your lips, allowing him in, and a soft moan escaped from deep within your throat. The kiss was no longer just an expression of love but a claim. San's tongue explored your mouth, tasting and teasing, and you responded with equal fervor, meeting his passion with your own.

San's hands began to roam your body, his touch both gentle and possessive. He ran his fingers down your sides, feeling the curves of your waist and hips. His hands slid under your shirt, the warmth of his palms against your skin sending sparks of desire through you.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with awe. 

He shifted, hovering over you, his body pressing you gently into the mattress. The weight of him felt comforting and exciting all at once. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you.

"So perfect," he whispered, his voice husky. "You're perfect, baby."

You shivered at the pet name, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. "San," you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him back down for another kiss.

This kiss was even more heated, filled with an urgency that left you both breathless. San's hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of your body with a mix of tenderness and possession. He cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice low and rough with desire.

"Yes," you moaned, arching into his touch. "So good, Sannie."

He smiled against your lips, pleased with your response. "I want to make you feel amazing," he murmured, kissing a trail down your neck. "You deserve to be worshipped.’’

San's kisses trailed down your body, his lips and tongue leaving a path of fire in their wake. He paused at your breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking until you were writhing beneath him, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"San, please," you begged, your voice a mix of need and desperation.

He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with passion. "Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. "I need you."

But he couldn’t give it to you right away. He knew he had to prepare you to ensure you were ready for him. He wanted this to be perfect for you.

He looked down at you. "I need to get you ready for me," he murmured, his voice husky. "I don't want to hurt you."

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. He moved lower, kissing a path between your breasts and down your stomach, savoring the taste of your skin. When he reached the juncture of your thighs, he paused, looking up at you with a mix of tenderness and hunger.

"You're so beautiful," he said softly, his fingers gently parting your folds. "I want to make you feel so good."

His touch was gentle at first, his fingers exploring your cunt with a tenderness that sent shivers through your body. He found your clit, circling it with his thumb while his fingers teased your entrance. You gasped, your hips lifting off the bed as he touched you.

"Sannie," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea.

He smiled, pleased by your response. "Let me hear you."

Slowly, he slid one finger inside you, feeling the warmth and tightness of your body. You moaned softly, your body arching into his touch. He moved his finger in and out, his thumb still circling your clit, and watched as your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

‘’Fuck,yes,’’ you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets. "So good, San."

Encouraged by your response, he added a second finger, stretching you gently. The sensation was intense, and you cried out, your hips rocking against his hand. San's eyes darkened with lust, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

"You're so tight,’’  he murmured against your lips. "So perfect for me."

You whimpered, the pleasure building inside you with every movement of his fingers. "San, please," you begged, your voice a desperate whisper.

He groaned, the sound of your need driving him wild. "I love hearing you beg, baby," he said, his fingers thrusting deeper. "I could do this all night."

Every sound you made seemed to intoxicate him, fueling his desire to pleasure you. He curled his fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. You cried out his name, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations.

"That's it," he urged, his voice low and commanding. "Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you."

You were so close, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. With a final, deep thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your orgasm washing over you in powerful waves. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as you clung to him.

San watched you, his eyes filled with awe and desire. "You're so beautiful when you come," he murmured, his fingers still moving inside you, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

He slowly withdrew his fingers from you, his eyes dark with desire as he brought them to his lips. He tasted you on his fingers, his eyelids fluttering shut and a deep, satisfied groan escaping from his throat.

"God, you taste so good," he murmured, his voice rough with lust. His eyes rolled back in his head for a moment, lost in the intoxicating flavor of you. "I could get addicted to this."

Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words, but your own desire was just as intense. With a newfound boldness, you reached down and gently wrapped your hand around his hardness, inside his sweatpants, feeling the heat and firmness of him through his sweatpants.

"I want to touch you," you whispered, your hand stroking him slowly. "I want to make you feel good too."

A shiver of pleasure ran through him at your touch, and he groaned, his hips instinctively thrusting into your hand. "You already do," he said, his voice strained. "But I won't stop you."

With trembling fingers, you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, and he helped you remove them, tossing them aside. You marveled at the sight of him, hard and ready for you. He was indeed pretty big. Slowly, you wrapped your hand around his length, stroking him gently.

San let out a deep, guttural moan, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the sensation. "Just like that, baby.’’

You watched his face, mesmerized by the expressions of pleasure that crossed it. The sight of him, so vulnerable and turned on by your touch, filled you with a heady mix of power and desire. You wanted to give him as much pleasure as he had given you.

You positioned yourself between his legs, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and he smiled down at you, his gaze filled with love and encouragement.

Slowly, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his length, tasting the salty tang of his arousal. San's breath hitched, and he let out a deep moan, his hands gripping the sheets. You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down his shaft. You started slowly, finding a rhythm that felt comfortable, your hand stroking the base as your mouth moved up and down.

San's reactions were immediate and intense. His hips bucked slightly, and he let out a series of deep, guttural moans, his hands tangling in your hair. "Fuck, that feels so good," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure.

You felt a surge of confidence at his praise, and you took him deeper, your mouth and hand working together to bring him pleasure. The sounds he made, the way his body responded to your touch, it all fueled your desire to please him.

"Yes, just like that," San panted, his voice low and rough. "You're so perfect, baby. So good to me."

You continued, the pace of your movements increasing as you sensed his pleasure building. His moans grew louder, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. You could feel him getting closer, his body tensing with anticipation.

"I'm close," he warned, his voice strained. "So close, baby."

You looked up at him with doe eyes, your eyes meeting his, and you could see the raw desire and love in his gaze. You wanted to take him over the edge, to make him feel as good as he had made you feel. With a final, deep movement, you took him fully into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him.

San let out a deep, shuddering groan, his hands tightening in your hair as he came, his release filling your mouth. You swallowed, savoring the taste of him, and continued to move until he was spent.

Slowly, you pulled back, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you with a mixture of awe and love, his chest rising and falling with deep, ragged breaths. Without giving you timr to register what was happening, he picked you and pinned you underneath him once again. He positioned himself between your legs, his hardness pressing against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you ready, love?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. ‘’Yes, please, I need you.’’

With a groan, he began to enter you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The sensation was intense, your body stretching to accommodate his size. He was big, and you could feel every inch of him as he filled you completely. It was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a slight edge of pain that quickly turned into pure ecstasy.

"God, you're so tight," he murmured, his voice rough. "You feel so good, baby. So perfect."

He started to move, his rhythm steady but rough, each thrust deep and deliberate. The sensation was incredible, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

‘’Fuck" you gasped, your voice filled with need.

"Let me hear you, baby," he groaned, his hips moving faster. "I want to hear every sound you make."

As he found his rhythm, his movements became rougher, more urgent. He thrust deeply, his hips driving into you with a force that made you cry out in pleasure. Each thrust hit a spot deep inside you, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

You moaned loudly, your hands gripping the sheets as he pounded into you. The intensity of his movements, combined with the constant stream of praise and pet names, drove you wild. You screamed his name.

He reached down, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation pushed you over the edge, and you cried out his name as you came, your body shuddering with the force of your orgasm.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Come for me. I want to feel you."

He didn't stop, his thrusts becoming even more relentless as he chased his own release. The sensation of him moving inside you, combined with the aftershocks of your orgasm, was almost too much to bear. But it felt so good, so perfect.

"I need to hear you again," he groaned, his rhythm never faltering. "Come for me again, sweetheart. Let me feel you."

You moaned loudly, your body responding to his words and his touch. The pleasure built quickly, and you felt another orgasm rushing through you. "Sannie, I'm coming," you gasped, your body trembling with the intensity.

"Good girl," he growled, his thrusts becoming even rougher. "I love it when you come for me. You're so beautiful."

You cried out as you came again, the pleasure washing over you in powerful waves. San continued to thrust deeply, his own moans mixing with yours as he pushed you both to the brink.

He pulled out of you and flipped you, positioning you on your hands and knees. He groaned at the sight, his hands gripping your hips as he lined himself up and thrust deeply inside you again.

"God, yes," he moaned, his voice filled with lust. "You look so perfect like this."

He set a punishing rhythm, his hips driving into you with a force that made you cry out in pleasure. One hand was on your hip while the other was on your neck, pushing you towards him as he thrust powerfully. "You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with possession. "All mine."

"Yes, Sannie," you gasped, your body rocking with each thrust. "I'm yours. Always."

He reached around, his fingers finding your clit again and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you felt another orgasm building quickly. "San, I'm going to come," you moaned, your voice shaking with need.

"Do it," he commanded, his thrusts becoming even rougher. "Come for me, baby. I need to feel you."

You cried out his name as you came, your body shuddering with the intensity. San groaned loudly, his own release following quickly as he filled you with his warmth.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, your bodies trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. San slowly pulled out of you, collapsing beside you on the bed and pulling you into his arms.

"You're amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with awe and love. "So beautiful, so perfect."

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and contentment. "I love you, San," you whispered, your voice full of truth.

"I love you too," he replied, his eyes soft with emotion. "More than anything."

He kissed your forehead before slowly getting up from the bed, carefully pulling away from you. "Stay here, my love. I'll be right back," he said softly. You nodded, your body still tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking.

He returned a few moments later with a warm, damp cloth and a bottle of water. He climbed back onto the bed, gently spreading your legs and starting to clean you up. His touch was tender, every movement filled with care and love.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft as he wiped you clean.

"I'm a bit sore," you admitted, your voice a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion.

San's eyes filled with concern, and he gently caressed your thigh. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll be gentler next time."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Please don't. I like it rough."

He paused, then a slow grin spread across his face. "Oh, you do, do you?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "My little baby likes it rough, huh?"

You blushed, feeling a surge of warmth at his playful tone. You slowly nodded.

San chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Well, I'll keep that in mind for next time," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly. "But I'll still make sure you're taken care of, no matter what."

After he finished cleaning you up, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping the blanket around both of you. He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back in soothing circles. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat were incredibly comforting.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his voice filled with love and concern.

You nodded, feeling completely at ease in his embrace. "Yes, Sannie. I'm more than okay. I'm perfect."

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good. I want you to always feel perfect with me."

You nestled closer to him, your head resting on his chest. "I do, San. I always have."

love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with happiness.

For a while, you both lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking and the deep connection you shared. San's fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin, his touch soothing and reassuring.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.

You shook your head, feeling completely content. "Just you," you said, your voice filled with love. "I just need you."

"You have me," he replied, his voice tender. "Always."

He continued to hold you, his presence a comforting anchor as you both began to drift off to sleep. The night had been intense, but the love and care San showed you in the aftermath made everything feel even more special.

As you drifted back to sleep, feeling safe and loved in San's arms, a soft buzzing sound interrupted the serene quiet of the room. San frowned, his protective instincts kicking in as he realized it was your phone on his bedside table. He gently eased out of your embrace, making sure not to wake you, and reached for the phone.

The screen displayed a message from Yeonjun.

[Junnie] Where are you? Who are you with?

San's jaw tightened with anger, but he decided to ignore the message. However, the phone buzzed again, another message from Yeonjun.

[Junnie] I know you're at San's. You're such a whore.

San felt a surge of rage, his blood boiling at the audacity of Yeonjun's words. He couldn't let that slide. Carefully, he unlocked your phone and typed out a response, his fingers flying over the screen with determination.

[You] Yes, she's with me. And she's much better off here than she ever was with you. Don’t ever think of insulting her ever again.  - San

He hit send, feeling a grim satisfaction as the message was delivered. He knew it might escalate things, but he couldn't stand the thought of Yeonjun continuing to harass you, especially after everything you'd been through.

San placed the phone back on the bedside table and glanced at you. You were still sound asleep, your face peaceful and content. He gently kissed your forehead, feeling a wave of tenderness wash over him.

"You're safe with me," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Sliding back into bed, San pulled you into his arms again, wrapping the blanket around both of you. The warmth of your body against his was soothing, calming the anger that still simmered within him. He stroked your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring.

As he lay there, his thoughts kept returning to Yeonjun's messages. The anger flared again briefly, but then he looked at you, peaceful in his arms, and he felt a deep sense of purpose. He would protect you, no matter what.

With that vow in his heart, San closed his eyes, letting the steady rhythm of your breathing lull him into a sense of calm. The events of the night played through his mind, a whirlwind of passion, love, and anger, but ultimately, a sense of rightness settled over him. You were with him, where you belonged, and he would do everything in his power to keep you safe and happy.

As sleep finally began to claim him, San held you close, his protective embrace a silent promise of his unwavering support and love. The future was uncertain, but with you in his arms, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And with that comforting thought, he drifted off to sleep, the warmth of your presence his greatest solace.

[channawrites]

FI, TYMI ~ C.S | Chapter 5

Synopsis: Wherein Mikyung does a fake dating agreement with her co-worker, in order to escape the constant pursuits of her ex-boyfriend.

Pairings: lawyer!san x female!lawyer!OC (ft. bff!wooyoung)

Genre: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, fake dating turned real dating, kinda she falls first, he falls harder

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1,583

Two days later Mikyung had found herself in her car, driving to café she and San had agreed to meet up at, all the while Wooyoung gave her an earful over the phone.

  “So, you’re telling me, that you, Ju Mikyung…set up a fake dating agreement with your colleague slash office crush, to stop your ex-boyfriend from pursuing you.” Wooyoung said, giving a basic summary of what Mikyung told him.

  She hummed in response, so nonchalantly, that it caused him to laugh humorlessly “It’s like I’m living in a cliché rom-com movie…that’s what my life has become, I’m a side character is a real life rom-com.”  He rambled almost incoherently.

  Mikyung laughed softly, rolling her eyes “Don’t be so dramatic, Woo.” She spoke.

  Wooyoung scoffed, “I’m not being dramatic, I’m just stating the facts. Because tell me this isn’t exactly like every cliché teen rom-com, where the two main characters start a fake dating agreement for some reason…and then in the end they end up actually dating.”

  This time Mikyund was the one to scoff, finding Wooyoung’s words ridiculous “That’s literally you and San.” He concluded.

  She rolled her eyes once more “Yeah, I don’t think so, Woo.” She said, drawing out the ‘yeah’.

  “Fine…if you don’t think so, then I will.” Mikyung could practically hear the pout in his voice “I bet that in three months you and San will be officially together.” He spoke.

  Mikyung scoffed for the millionth time “Yeah, yeah whatever. I have to go Wooyoung, I’m at the café. Talk to you later.” She said, ending the call before he could say anything else.

  Mikyung breathed out a sigh, sinking back into the seat as her gaze remained locked on the building, all the while nervousness began to course through her and doubts infiltrating her mind.

  She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm the pounding of her heart as she grabbed her purse and notebook, where she had written down everything she wanted to discuss with San, before finally getting out of her car.

  Mikyung stepped through the door of the café and her gaze immediately swept the entirety of the , until she finally caught sight of San. She then felt her heart skip a few beats, realizing that this was her first time seeing him outside of the firm, and even outside of the firm he was still well put together.

  San wore a gray wool trench coat, paired with what she assumed to be a black long sleeve, black slacks and a pair of dress shoes. Mikyung then looked down at what she was wearing, which was her favorite pair jeans, light gray crewneck and white sneakers.

  She felt almost embarrassed that San had to seen her like this, it was different from her usual pantsuits and pencil skirts, and this was their first meeting outside of work…so yes, she was definitely embarrassed.

  But Mikyung just swallowed down her embarrassment and walked over to where San sat.

  “Well…I feel underdressed.” She spoke, causing San to look up from his phone.

  A small smile curled at his lips, gaze traveling up and down her figure as he put his phone in the pocket of his coat, before chuckling softly. “If anything, I’m overdressed.” He replied, causing soft laughter to leave Mikyung’s mouth, while her embarrassment slowly but surely dissipated.

  “But I will say that you look beautiful in anything you wear.” San said, causing Mikyung’s face and ears to become warm as she broke eye contact with him and sat across from him.

  How was San not aware of the affect he had on her? Because Mikyung swore she was going to melt into puddle, if he continued to say things like that.

  San cleared his throat, causing her to snap out of her thoughts and look up at him again. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I just got you a regular iced coffee.” He spoke, placing the cup of coffee in front of her.

  She felt like a high schooler talking to her long-time crush for the first time; her face was so warm and flushed, she could’ve been mistaken for running a fever.

  Mikyung pressed her lips tightly together, stopping the growing smile tugging at her lips “You didn’t have to get me anything…but thank you.” She replied with a smile, before taking a sip of the caffeinated beverage.

  San smiled, dimples on his cheeks “You’re welcome, Mikyung.”  He said, before they both fell silent.

  The silence didn’t last longer than a few moments, before San spoke again “So…you wanted over some rules of our agreement.”

  Mikyung’s eyes widen slightly in realization “Oh right.” She exclaimed, grabbing the small notebook.

  San chuckled softly at the sight, causing her to look at him with a confused expression “What?” He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips “Nothing, you’re just very prepared.” He commented and face warms even more at his words.

  “Oh…I can organize my thoughts a lot better when I write them down.” She explained, opening the notebook to the page she needed.

  San hummed “That make sense.” He spoke.

  Mikyung nodded in response, gaze briefly turning back down to the notebook, before looking at San again.

  “What are the rules you wanted to talk about?” He questioned, leaning back in the chair, extending his left leg and loosely crossed his arms across his chest.

  Mikyung swallowed thickly as she took in San’s posture, ‘How can one man be so attractive?’ She thought, eyes darting up and down his figure.

  San cleared his throat “Mikyung?” He spoke. She snapped out of her dazed state, gaze locking with his, before he asked, “Are you okay?”  Slight worry painting his features.

  She swallowed thickly again “Ummm…yeah, I’m good.” She answered, her embarrassment seemingly endless, because San had just caught her staring.

  Mikyung cleared her throat, gaze going back down to the inked words “Ummm…anyway, so these are just some basic rules that I thought of, because we need to be a convincing couple for this entire thing to work.” She began and San hummed in response.

  “So, some of the more obvious things in terms of physical touch are hand holding, hugging and kissing…but only on the cheek, back of the hand or forehead. She spoke.

  San shifted slightly in his chair as she continued to speak “We’re not actually dating, so I don’t see it necessary to do anything other than those.” She explained further, while San muttered ‘yeah, of course.”

  She coughed softly, turning to the next page of the notebook, before continuing “Also at some point, I’d like you to meet my parents, because my mom is very adamant in that Chanwoo and I are still together and vice versa.” Mikyung added.

  San nodded “Of course, I can do that.” He said with a smile.

  She had found herself returning the smile “Thank you San, I really appreciate you doing this.” She said suddenly, which caused San’s smile to widen as his eyes turned to crescents and Mikyung felt her heart melt at the sight.

  “You’re welcome, Mikyung…that’s what friends are for, right?” He spoke.

  She felt her heart skip a beat at his words “We’re…friends?” She questioned, lips beginning to curl up into another smile.

  San breathed out a laugh “Of course we are. I wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t.”

  Mikyung nodded in response, a wide smile on her lips as she took another sip of her coffee.

  “What about pet names?” San asked after a few moments of silence.

  Mikyung’s face lit up in realization “Oh right, I honestly didn’t even think about that…but yeah, we can use pet names. Have any in mind?”

  San remained silent for a moment, fingers tapping away at the plastic cup. He hummed “I may have something in mind.” He answered, a smirk curling at his lips as he sat up, resting his elbow atop the table, before he placed his chin on the palm of his hand.

  “Can I see your phone, darling?” Mikyung felt her heart stutter in her chest, at the pet name and at his lower…almost sultry tone of voice.

  She swallowed hard “Ummm yeah sure.” She spoke softly, grabbing her purse from the other chair. Mikyung rummaged through her purse for a moment, before she finally pulled out her phone and handed it to San, after unlocking it.

  And not even minute later San gave her phone back. Mikyung’s gaze turned down to the screen, noticing he had put his contact info in. She chuckled softly “Choi San? Isn’t that a little formal?” She questioned.

  His eyes widened “Oh…you can change if you want.” He said and she swore she saw the faintest hue of pink dusting his cheeks.

  She nodded as she went to change his contact name into something more fitting and a little less formal. “How about this?” She asked, turning her toward him.

  His gaze fell to the top of the screen “Sannie?” He said in a questioning tone, with a raised eyebrow.

  Mikyung laughed softly at his reaction, pulling her phone back “What I think its cute.” She explained and unknowingly to her a bashful smile curled at his lips.

  She breathed out a soft sigh, placing her phone back in her purse “Anyway…thank you again for doing this San. I really, really appreciate it.” She spoke with a smile.

  San returned the smile “Of course, Mikyung.” He replied as he thought ‘I would do anything for you.’

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[channawrites]

a night to remember

(title is indeed a laufey ref)

pairing: zamboni operator!san x figure skater! fem!reader

prerequisites/warnings: cursing, reader overworking, friends to lovers, me horribly naming different ice skating tricks..

a/n: I had this draft sitting here for a good month (in that time I released killin it, and like 3 chapters of nouvelle vague.. sorry san), inspired when I saw someone cleaning with the zamboni and someone was holding onto it on the side so they were like riding the zamboni together ykyk (ty for my friend for giving this idea) also this is 100% inspired by that one scene from Yuri on ice ifkyk

[2.4k words]

1st person pov (y/n)

the clock strikes 12. all my friends were long gone at this point. double axel, toe jump, salchow. I didn't even need my music at this point I had memorized my entire number in my head. just a few more times till I can go hom- "are you almost done?" I hear a voice that shakes me from my thoughts as I pause my skating.

"what?" I ask, taking my headphones out of my ears. "I said, are you almost done? I can't go home till the ice gets cleaned." the voice belonged to the zamboni operator, san? I think his name was? "oh yeah i'll be done in a minute" I say before skating around a bit more and reluctantly getting off the ice. I sit on the bench, taking my skates off, wiping the ice off of them and covering them before putting them back in my skate bag.

"why're you still here anyway? its way past 12" san asks going over to turn the zamboni on. "competitions in a few months and my numbers still.. missing something? I don't know" I reply, now finished packing up my bag. "sorry for keeping you waiting. goodnight san." and with that, I left the rink before exiting the building to the parking lot and getting on my bus.

3rd person pov

san wondered why y/n was freaking out when it seemed like she had so much time but he paid no mind. he cleaned the ice like usual, rounding the zamboni all the way around the ice before parking it and heading home himself. this cycle repeated the next few weeks. she would stay till almost midnight but san didn't mind, he watched her do the same routine ten times over, even enjoyed watching it to. her expression turn into a pout whenever she messed up or forgot something.

y/n noticed san's glances as she skated gracefully along the ice, so much so.. that she was too distracted and she slipped on a crack in the ice and fell over. "fuck" she muttered brushing the ice off her knees. "you okay?" san shouts over the glass covering the rink, y/n giving a thumbs up in response.

after the first week, san realized y/n was going home without getting something to eat and started bringing her little snacks to eat before her multi hour long skate sessions. it started with little snacks like a granola bar or a bag of chips, but it turned into full out meals or the two would grab food before she started her practice.

they got to know each other, san finding out y/n had been ice skating ever since she was a kid. y/n finding out san worked there because his dad was the owner of the rink. the two got close.. really close. to the point where they weren't sure what the two were anymore. y/n was currently in san's apartment laying on his lap on the couch as the two watched their favorite show together.

y/n was back on the ice when monday rolled around. she skated around her body moving before she even had to think. though she seemed to be having a bit of a hard time at practice today, stumbling onto herself. the lack of sleep seeming to having caught up to her.

she was getting yelled at left and right and looked like she was about to break. her instructor had her take a break and she stepped off the ice. she has her head down only poking it up when she senses san presence in front of her. she looks up at him and before either of them say anything san pulls her into a hug to which y/n breaks down in his arms.

she sobs into his shirt for a while before muttering a quiet, "I suck" into his chest. "you don't suck" san whispers back. "I do.. I cant get it right." she sniffles. "y/n look at me" san tells her looking down to meet her gaze as she lifts her head up. "you're so good at what you do. you know that right? even when you were just first learning your routine you'd work on it night after night and wouldn't leave till you perfected it. you can do it you just haven't gotten the rest you need.. which we both know is the main reason. but you can do it so don't tell me you suck because we both know you don't" san finishes.

"okay?" he raises an eyebrow at her. "okay" she says. "thanks san" she says hugging him again. "now go on show me your.. what's it called.. your triple axel." he smiles. she giggles before heading back on the ice. her instructor could sense something changed during her break and turned on her music. she skates around letting herself take in the music she had started getting sick of and instead relaxes herself as she skates doing her routine flawlessly.

she looks at san who gives her a smile and thumbs up in approval as she skates off and packs her stuff up. "our show at your place again? ill buy dinner" she asks as san revs up the zamboni. "yeah of course" he says. "wanna go for a ride?" he offers. "how?" she asks puzzled. "hang on tight" he says as she grabs onto the handle of the zamboni as san starts it up.

"woah" y/n exclaims in surprise as the two circle the ice rink. she sees the marks from the figure 8's she drew in the ice, the lines of chalk she drew to skate in a circle. she watches the marks practically vanish as san goes over them with the zamboni. after he finished cleaning he helped her off the machine before the two head to his place to watch their show. y/n falls asleep there as she usually did.

y/n was having another late night practice session as san watched from the benches. "so do you get to skate for free here?" y/n asks as she skates around. "technically yeah but um.." san pauses. "I don't know how to skate" he admits sheepishly. "no way really?" y/n says in surprise stopping right by the little doorway leading out to the rink.

"my dad gets me skates for Christmas every other year or so but I've never gotten around to using them." he continues. "do you want to learn?" y/n asks. "I think im gonna fall and bump my head" san tries to get out of it but the next thing he knew he was going circles around the ice clinging onto y/n for dear life since she didn't let him use the wall.

"y/n we're skating way too fast" he squeaks but y/n just giggles as they go towards the middle. she lets go of him for a second and he freezes in place as she does a figure 8 on the ice. she looked so elegant and ethereal. she smiles and heads back to him. "try skating to me" she says skating backwards no more than a couple feet away from him.

san shakes his head "im gonna fall" he pouts. "you will if you keep that mindset" y/n scoffs. "I won't let you fall san skate to me" she says. he slowly moves his feet more walking than skating but y/n didn't mind as he waddled his way over to her. "you got it!" y/n exclaims as he grasps her hand again. "okay that's enough for today" san frowns and y/n nods in agreement bringing them to the entrance. "did you have fun at least?" she asks cleaning her skates. he hums in reply. "guess so"

it was officially 2 days till competition day, y/n freaking out was a understatement. "y/n you're pacing so much you might burn off the carpet" san chuckles nervously as she paced around his apartment. "sorry i'm nervous as hell" y/n admits. "y/n you're gonna do great" he smiles. "I keep fucking up my triple axel.. what if I fall on the ice in front of everyone?" she says in almost fear. "or.. what if you do so good you get a standing ovation?" san counters. "we both know that's not happening" she sighs. "you never know" he smiles.

finally.. finally, finally it was competition day. y/n changes into her costume and heads out and meets up with san. his eyes widen as he sees her costume. it was an icy white with a flowy skirt, rhinestones and glitter along the skirts edge and her sleeves. "wow you look incredible" san says his jaw practically on the floor. "thank you" she says, nervousness clear in her voice as it shook a bit as she replied. "you're going to do great y/n" san reassures her. "hope you're right"

y/n's name booms through the loudspeakers and y/n walks to the rink stepping on it carefully. the music she had been blasting in her ears for months played almost like a bittersweet reminder to all the work she had put into this piece. she skates around, salchow, upright spin, axel, double axel, lutz jump. she hears her music come to an end as she skates to the center of the rink before she lets herself take a breathe so much had happened in the span of a few months. she had gotten praised, yelled at, she met san.. oh san he changed her life for sure. there wasn't time to think about him now though. she takes a moment before clearing her head completely.

without a second thought she jumps to do her final move. the triple axel she worked her ass off perfecting. the scolding of her instructor runs through her ears but its quickly replaced by san's reassurance. within an instant she goes to do her triple axel almost bracing for impact assuming she’d fall but.. no she didn't. she landed perfectly.

before she knew it, it was over. there wasn't any reaction for a moment but suddenly she hears a cheer, she looks to the side to see san practically jumping out of his seat on the sideline. his cheers are followed by clapping from the audience. it was no standing ovation but y/n didnt need one to feel achieved.

she takes a bow practically bolting off as san was waiting for her his arms wide open. she practically jumps off the ice into his arms as they almost fall backwards but san holds them both flat on the ground. it was like the hug he gave her months ago when she sobbed in his arms but this one was different. she releases herself from the hug still in his arms. they look at each other before anyone could say a word she kisses him. without a second thought she presses her lips right onto his. he gasps in surprise at first but he recovers quickly kissing her right back. they finally pull away from the kiss as san slowly brings her down to the ground. "you did it" he exclaims excitedly. "I knew you could do it" he cheers.

the two grip each other's hands as the places are announced. from runner ups to third place, second place, and finally.. "a night to remember by y/n l/n!" the announcer says and san and y/n jump for joy. "holy shit i won" y/n says in almost disbelief. "of course you won" san smiles lifting her up in his arms again spinning her in circles.

the rink clears out and san goes to clean the ice. "victory lap?" he asks giggling as y/n nods with a big smile stepping onto the zamboni's edge. they talk as san cleans the ice going over the cracks and bumps made by all the skaters on the ice that day. he finishes cleaning helping y/n down as he parks it.

y/n walks out with her trophy in one hand and grips san's hand in the other one. they walk to san's car and he opens the door and helps her in before stepping into the drivers seat. "our show at my place?" he asks starting up the car. "I thought you'd never ask" she smiles.

tysm for reading! if you have any requests pls send them my way!!

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[channawrites]

In the Blur of the Rain (San x Reader)

Summary: San's always been hardheaded, and it's this same stubbornness that puts him on a mandatory leave from his precinct just before the holidays. His days waste away until he stumbles into your bookstore to escape the cold weather. Complete opposites, he isn't sure why he comes back again the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Word Count: 15.41k (💀)

Genre/Warnings: smut (MDNI!!!), strangers to lovers, detective!san x bookstoreowner!readeer, slowburn (bc I can't seem to write anything else lol), oral (f receiving), ab riding, face riding, switch behavior from mc and sannie, breast play, unprotected sex (PLS DONT), tiniest bit of wax play but not really, hair pulling, sex by the fireplace (heh), LOTS of fluff, sprinkle of angst, LOTS of bookworm behavior, many of my fav books mentioned so pls don't be mean, anxiety, panic attacks, anger management (kind of), inaccurate representation of precincts during holidays, also inaccurate representation of how property closures work lol, ridiculous verb tense irregularities

Author's Note: Happy New Years!!! Firstly, thank you so so SO much for 700 followers! I'm so happy to know that that many people enjoy my fics. Truly thank you from the bottom of my heart 🥹🫶. I'm also just really happy to be back and publishing some writing again! I've got some pretty exciting things lined up for these first couple of months of the new year, so def look forward to that!! I hope everybody has a great start to 2025, much love <33

🎧 playlist 🎧: jiwoo: in the blur of the rain 🕯️ jiwoo: lustre 🕯️ exo: let me in 🕯️ taehyung: snow flower 🕯️ jiwoo: evergray 🕯️ childish gambino: iii. urn 🕯️ taemin: deja vu

This is a work of fiction, and it is not meant to be a realistic representation of any real person mentioned in any way, shape, or form.

San had been aimlessly wandering for the better part of an hour now. The cloudy sky above him was telling, raindrops threatening to come down any minute now. But San only continues, kicking forward the rather large pebble that had come loose from the sidewalk some blocks back.

Not too concerned with the passing time, San wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking. He hadn’t known how he’d managed to occupy his time in the past couple of weeks, the days and nights melding into one. He passes a busy salon and briefly glances at the women dying and perming their hair. He turns away, hoping they have an umbrella.  

But even the hovering bad weather wasn’t enough to bring the people walking besides him down. They walk giddily, hand in hand, pointing at the intricate window displays. He felt uncomfortable, his self-implicated alienation uncomfortably obvious among their holiday spirit.

He huffs a heavy sigh. This forced time off was proving to be much more difficult than he had anticipated. The first couple of days were manageable. He caught up with his much-needed lack of sleep and spent the rest of the days cleaning his apartment. But once he ran out of the little food he did have, he was reluctantly forced to visit the grocery store. 

He’d caught up on sleep, cleaned every corner of his apartment, and finally cleared out the fridge. But once he ran out of food, he’d been forced to venture out. A trip to the grocery store yielded a sad haul of bread, milk, and a boxed mix of leafy greens: a reflection of his lack of appetite and, frankly, his lack of enthusiasm for life outside work.

With his errands complete, he hadn’t been ready to return to his apartment, its silence pressing on him like a second skin. So, he walked, turning down unfamiliar streets and weaving through alleys with no destination in mind. Who was he without his badge? Without people to protect? Without a purpose?

San had always been a hardhead. It served him well in the academy and in the early days at the precinct. But lately, it had become more of a liability than an asset. He clenched his jaw at the memory of his last case, the interrogation room dim and suffocating as he pressed a suspect for hours on end. The man was as slippery as they came, smirking through San’s frustration until something in him snapped.

“You gotta cool it, son,” the chief had said, stepping into the hallway just as San stormed out of the room.

San hadn’t stopped, his boots echoing down the corridor as he made a beeline for his desk. “He’s guilty, and you know it,” he’d fired back over his shoulder, his tone cutting.

The chief followed, his voice calm but firm. “Maybe he is, but You can’t lose control like that, especially not without any evidence to back yourself up. I’ve been down that road before, and trust me, it doesn’t lead anywhere pretty. We’ve got protocols for a reason.”

San shoved a stack of papers aside, his jaw tightening. “Protocols don’t mean shit when someone like that walks free because of a technicality.”

The chief sighed, rubbing a hand over his weathered face. “Look, I get it. You’re one of the best we’ve got. Hell, I saw it back in the academy, and I see it every damn day. You’ve got drive, heart—more than most of the guys in this building. But that doesn’t mean you’re above the rules.”

San scoffed, his frustration bubbling over. “Half the guys here don’t give a damn about protecting anyone. They’re just here for the paycheck or the power trip. And you want to lecture me about rules?”

The chief’s gaze hardened, his voice dropping low. “Fine. Maybe not everyone’s in it for the right reasons. But you are. And that’s why you can’t let this anger consume you. You can’t help anyone if you burn out or get yourself benched permanently.”

They walked toward the heavy double doors, the city quiet in the crisp night air. The chief stopped at the top of the stairs, his breath visible as he exhaled slowly. “Listen, son. I’ve been where you are. I know what it feels like to want justice so bad it hurts. But you’ve got to channel that fire, not let it control you. That’s why I’m putting you on mandatory leave.”

San froze, turning to him with disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” The chief’s tone was unyielding. “Give me your badge and gun. You’re not coming back until you’ve had time to figure out who you are without them.”

Reluctantly, San handed over the items, his heart sinking as the chief took them. The older man’s face softened, his voice quiet but resolute. “I know you’ve got anger for the unjust that’s drowning this city, but you can’t bottle it up and blow it out on some asshole that mugs old ladies. I want you to know this isn’t a punishment. It’s a second chance. Use it to get your head straight.” 

And San figures that was fair.

This time was supposed to help him answer that, but all San had done was sleep, clean his apartment, get some groceries, and take an obscurely long walk to strange parts of the city.

“Oops. Sorry, mister!” San looks down to find a little boy patting the material of his black trousers. He couldn’t have been any older than five, cheeks tinged rose in the cold. One of his hands was gloved, and the other was bare, tightly clutching a powdered pastry, much of the powder now on San’s pant leg. The kid’s gloved hand continues to wipe, only smearing the stark white sugar more, coloring the spot on his pants a light gray. 

The little boy’s mother pulls him away to continue down the crowded street, throwing a quick apology in San's way before turning around to scold her son. They quickly get lost in the sea of people in the busy downtown. 

The streets are bustling today. The decorations for the holidays had gone up some days ago, and now, every storefront was decked with wreaths and lights. San looks at the people that pass him, faces stretched wide with smiles and hands filled with presents and wrapping paper. His steps slow a little, watching the happiness decorate the faces of so many people. 

To look at the streets and people without having a tragedy to attach to them was unfamiliar to him, unnatural even. 

The traffic was only increasing, with more and more people bumping into San’s shoulders. San finds it stifling, and he feels as if he’s back in the interrogation room with the ticking clock of detainment breathing down his neck. 

His chest constricts, and San finds himself turning into an alley. Adapting a fast pace, he exits out the alley into another street, his large pebble shockingly still alongside his uneven stride. 

This street is quiet, void of the festive cheer from the street that runs parallel, and it helps in calming him down. He breathes in the cool November air and looks at his surroundings. Despite having lived in the city for several years now, he’d never been down this particular street, at least he thinks he hasn’t. There had never been time to explore with the multitude of cases.

The storefronts here are also decorated, but it fares lamely compared to the other street. The effort is minimal and it shows desperately. Many of the strung up lights are no longer lit, and the wreaths look as if one strong gust could blow them apart. 

The festivity on this street feels exhausted like it’s seen one to many holiday seasons and just can’t be bothered to participate in them, yet San finds it comforting. Despite the stress the holidays brought to the precinct, San had always liked this time of year, and the way this particular street was decorated seemed to resonate with him more. 

While he can still hear the commotion of people from one street over, he tries to walk it off, and for some minutes, San and his pebble stroll the quieter street. 

Without having to dodge other shoppers or watch out for little children, the chief’s words come back to his mind. 

You can’t lose control like that, especially not without any evidence to back yourself up. I’ve been down that road before, and trust me, it doesn’t lead anywhere pretty.

The chief’s downfall was a story San had pieced together from fragments over the years. The case that broke him was a mess—eyewitness accounts that contradicted each other, blurry CCTV footage, and the absence of concrete evidence. The parallels were impossible to ignore.

And if there was one thing Choi San did not have, it was the concrete evidence. 

But he knew that all it would’ve taken was a little bit of pushing. With just a little bit of prodding, he could’ve and would’ve gotten a confession. 

His frustration, while milder than it was the night of the interrogation, is renewed, and to exercise it, he kicks particularly hard at his pebble, making it roll off the sidewalk and unceremoniously fall into a storm drain. When he hears the clink as it reaches the sewer floor, San also feels the first raindrop. 

He can only sigh. With the pebble and the chief forgotten, he speeds up, finally tilting his head upwards to read the storefront signs, deciding that, without an umbrella, he’d surely need to find a sanctuary in one of them soon.

He passes far too many more salons and boutiques than one street needs, before entering a seemingly forgotten corner of the avenue. Many of the spaces are for sale, another couple advertising shady business operations, and finally one sad mattress store. Just past them, is another store with a sigh San can’t quite make out. As the weight of the raindrops increases, he moves closer, careful to not slip on the slick cobblestones. 

Nearing it, the sign simply reads “Old & Rare Books”. The outside of the store is sodden much like the rest of the street, and the interior so dark that the window in the front doesn’t show San anything but his own reflection. 

San turns his back to the store, eyeing the entrance of the mattress store and one of the many salons further down the street. With one more look at the thundering sky, San pushes the heavy wooden door to the bookstore open. 

The inside of the store, despite its cool appearance, is warm and unexpectedly smells of chocolate. The walls are lined with rich, ebony wood, only darkening the space more. As San turns to eye the rest of the store, his bag of groceries thuds against a stack of books, knocking the pile over. 

With a sigh, San only looks for an employee, but what he finds is complete disarray. 

To put it simply, the store was in utter chaos. Much like the fallen jumble by the door, there were books strewn everywhere, the messy heaps neverending, forcefully stacked and piled against one another with no formality. With a crooked neck, San finds the rest of the long and dim store in a similar manner. 

The state of the mess has San standing still, and as he observes his surroundings, his disbelief only builds. This store was like a thief’s playground. 

First of all, the store was entirely too dark, and there were no clear sightlines for San or any employees to keep an eye on the entirety of the store’s layout. The register was located in a strange corner to his right, and San was unable to spot any cameras. San wouldn’t even know how to begin to take inventory when the inventory itself was scattered so carelessly in every corner of the store. To his left, there was a brown leather couch nestled in another corner, and on its cushions slept a very much not alert gray cat. 

Opposite the couch was a box computer that looked to be older than San, a logo bouncing from edge to edge on its screen, and just behind that was a wire spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. And, there was still no employee in sight, despite the ringing of the bell that hung above the door and the thudding of the stack of books San had knocked over. 

If anyone did decide to steal, the store owner would be none the wiser. 

This was starting to piss San off. If a call had come into the precinct to report a theft of any kind, there would be little to nothing they could do, and their report would be a measly one page, lacking any and all substance. And he knows that after the fact, the precinct would still be bad-mouthed by the store owner or even a local newspaper, written aside to be lazy.  

He feels his chest constricting again and decides the mattress store will just have to do. He turns back towards the door he’s just come through, but through the window, he watches the rain pour, drizzling down heavily onto the pavement and roads, darkening them. Begrudgingly, he faces the interior of the bookstore again. 

He hears a gentle clicking of shoes against the wooden panels from the creaky floor above him, and suddenly, descending the wire staircase, you peak your head out. Oddly enough, the anxiety he was feeling only moments ago vanishes as you come into view. 

You seem misplaced in the store, the whites and cream of your apparel far too contrasted with the dark and moody interior. Your long cream skirt drags slightly along the floor, and there’s a dirtied apron tied securely around your waist smeared with a combination of sugar, butter, and flour. As you move closer, San can smell baked goods.

Unlike the artificially and sickly sweet smell coming from the bakeries and pastry shops from the parallel street, you smell real. San doesn’t know how to describe it, but he momentarily shuts his eyes, taking in your scent. 

“Hi! Welcome in, is there anything I can help you find?” Your voice is cheery, and you hope it isn’t all too obvious that you’re excited to finally have someone in the store. 

With the holiday season in full swing, the traffic on main street was bound to trickle into your street, but with new big-brand wholesale bookstores popping up all over the city, you could only pray customers would walk far enough into this street to see your place. 

So when anybody, especially someone this handsome, walks in, you want to be there to greet them, welcoming them into your store with a warm Hello! and sincere Thank you! for choosing your little bookstore instead of the heavily franchised wholesalers across town, but cookies in your oven had a different idea. 

The man’s features, although striking, were roughened, like he’d been to war and back, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep by toasty fire. Yet you stand undeterred and patiently in front of the man, waiting for him to answer. You were positive you could find him something to read in your store, it was your job after all.

“Just escaping the rain for some time, I’ll be leaving once it slows,” is all he says, voice deep and certain.

You only hum, continuing in his direction, stopping in front of the window. You stand side-by-side, watching the pouring rain for some seconds before whispering, “Wow, it’s really coming down out there.” You turn to the man, placing your hands on your hips, “Sure I can’t offer you something to read? We’ve got books for all ages, I’m sure I can find you something,” you suggest.

Normally, San would have a hard time believing you, and he thinks part of him definitely does. With the sheer lack of structure surrounding the two of you in the store, he doesn’t think it’s possible to find anything. But when your eyes sparkle even in the dim lights of the store, he only agrees, finding the smile on your face widening.

With a skip in your step, you begin weaving through the familiar aisles. Unsure of himself, San decided to follow you, watching as your eyes scan the titles on the shelves. 

Now that he’s looking closely at the actual books in your store, he sees that many of them don’t look too old or rare. In fact, some of them look like they’re straight from the manufacturing press. His fingertips trace the spine of a book that’s yet to be broken into, and the confusion on his face must be obvious, prompting you to speak up.

“The sign’s a bit misleading, I know. We’ve actually got more new books than we do old and rare, but I’ve grown attached to the old thing. Can’t find it in myself to replace it,” you say with a pensive sigh. Your eyes continue to rake along the stuffed shelves, searching for something particular. 

As the man follows a respectful distance behind you, you sneak in a couple of hopefully discrete glances. His form was broad and stiff, face hardened with a stoic expression. Despite it, you could feel some judgment radiating off of him. Deciding to look past it, you notice his dark attire. 

If it wasn’t for his face, he could’ve easily blended into the walls of the store. A jet black turtleneck matched with jet black trousers. A silver belt buckle resting exactly at the center of his waist. A dark gray woolen coat that seemed just a little too tight around his shoulders. Hair neat, each strand pushed out of his face. It told you everything and nothing at the same time. 

“What do you usually like to read…” you trail off, hoping at least a name would get you somewhere. 

“San,” he fills in. 

“San,” you say, pondering the name, continuing to walk down the busy aisles.  

But San lags behind. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard his name said so sweetly before. Sure, his own name has been yelled at him many times before by his own father, his sisters, his academy teachers, and even the chief, but it’s never been said in a way that’s brought warmth to him. He clears his throat to rid himself of the feeling, catching up to you as you repeat, “What genres do you read most often?”

San’s steps falter again. The last time San had opened a book was during his finals at the academy, and even that had been a textbook. After he’d gotten his job at the precinct, the only reading he’d done had been from case files. What genre would those even qualify as? “Nonfiction,” he settles on before changing his mind, “True crime… mystery?” He grimaces at his diffident response, but even with the little he’d given you, your expression only brightens. 

With this knowledge, you speed through the aisles, San obediently keeping up behind you. You finally stop in front of a shelf that’s lined with thin books that look smaller than the size of San’s hands, and with a pointed finger, you graze the titles. When you spot the book you’re searching for, you pull it out with a gasp. 

“This is a good one,” you tell him, facing the cover towards him. Lost Horizon. The paperback book was old, probably printed some 50 years ago, and the cover donned a painted illustration of a peculiar scene. In the center of a series of jagged, snow-capped mountains was a patch of green. Four tiny men were leading another four tiny men to the warm refuge, navigating through the harsh alpine environment in clothing from the early 1900s. Despite its age, the book was well taken care of, void of discoloration and bent pages. 

“It’s a book about Hugh Conway, who’s a veteran. His plane crashes in the Himalayas, and he and his men take refuge in the valley of Blue Moon in a place called Shangri-La. It’s hard to establish a utopia when you’ve only got less than 200 pages to tell your story, but Hilton’s such a good writer that he does flawlessly. So, this place, Shangri-La, has no war, no crimes, and people don’t age, and oh, did you know this was the first ever mass-market produced paperback in history?”

Your face is animatedly excited, telling San more facts about the author or the premise or the paperback industry, and you know you’re ranting, far too excited about a novel that was published nearly 100 years ago. But this is the first customer, who also just happened to be ruggedly handsome and probably around your age, you’ve had in the store for the longest time. 

You try to wrap up quickly, deciding to only tell San half of the story about how President Roosevelt used the book to mislead journalists during the second World War, saying, “Anyways, Hilton’s a writer that wants his readers to feel good, and I— I just… I’m sorry if it isn’t my place to say this, but I feel like you could use some of that,” you admit, the decibels of your voice dropping significantly in the hopes that San doesn’t get offended and storm out of your store. 

But the shyly said words have the tension in San’s shoulder releasing, because yeah, he could use some of that. So mustering a friendly, albeit tight-lipped smile, he takes the book, which did in fact prove to be smaller than San’s hands, from your own, saying only a polite, “Thank you.”

Your smile returns, and you look away from him, eyeing the interior of your store. “You’re welcome to sit and read here until the rain slows down,” you tell him, pointing at the brown leather couch where the gray cat lay, still sleeping. Padding across the floor, you turn on a lamp, which sat precariously on top of a long pile of I-Spy books next to the couch. “You could give Violet some much needed company,” you say with a laugh, gently petting between the cat’s ears. 

Maybe this is what the chief was talking about. Maybe it wasn’t. 

But San sits down on the couch carefully anyways, so as to not disturb the sleeping Violet besides him. He watches more and more of your cream skirt drag along the floor as you walk away to tend to the stack of the books San’s groceries had knocked over. He turns his attention to the snow-capped mountains on the cover of the book, and when the incredibly unfamiliar sensation of relaxation takes over his form, he leans his back into the couch and turns the cover and begins reading.

Over your shoulder, you watch San get comfortable on your couch, flipping open the cover of Lost Horizon. You breathe out a relieved sigh, fixing the stack of knocked over books. It was never easy to gauge the interests of new customers, and with so many being driven away by the wholesalers, you’d grown rusty at it with many of your repeat customers being elderly women opinionated enough to know what they want to read.

But as the time ticks by and rain continues to pour, you watch San still engrossed in the story of Hugh Conway. You knew the book you’d picked out didn’t quite fit into any of the genres he’d mentioned to you, but you were taking a shot in the dark and luckily for you, it had landed squarely within San’s interests. 

A comfortable ambience takes over the bookstore, and you tend to its needs, straightening piles of books and dusting the ebony shelves. You head upstairs to your kitchen to package the now cooled chocolate cookies, even putting a new batch in the oven. Maybe I should offer some to San. 

Apprehensively, you bring a half a dozen packaged cookies down, sneaking glances at San. His stiff shoulders looked much more relaxed, thumbing through the tiny book page by page. You decide not to break his focus, placing the cookie under the register and continue on with your work, occasionally watching him slowly read a fourth of the way through the book, then halfway through while you complete your tasks. His presence in the store is comforting. and you find yourself not even caring if he makes a purchase or not. 

In San’s periphery, you run up and down the staircase and weave through the shelves endlessly, but he strictly focuses his attention on Hugh Conway’s adventure. It isn’t until Violet wakes up and begins to lick San’s fingertips that he’s brought out of the book. Turning his head in search of your figure, he sees you giving an older lady, who San hadn’t even noticed come in, some change back at the register, wishing her a good night to stay warm in the cooling weather. 

The sky outside has turned dark, welcoming the night, and the rain has also long since stopped. San clears his throat, sitting up straighter on the couch, closing the book shut. His bagful of groceries crinkles at his movement, and he realizes that his milk and greens have no doubt gone bad in the hours they’ve been sitting in the warm bookstore. 

Collecting all of his belongings, which weren’t many to begin with, he stands, joining you at the register. 

Looking up from your ledger notebook, your eyes widen in surprise. “Hey, how’s the book?”

“Good, I’m not quite finished yet, but I really should get going,” he raises his bag of groceries in his hand, hoping you’d understand. “But I’d like to purchase it,” he says, placing the book on the counter and fishing his wallet out of his coat. 

“Yeah, of course.” You scan the book, eyes catch the grocery receipt he’s tucked in it to mark his spot. You repeat his total to him, watching as he thumbs through the bills from his wallet. You hand him his change, and he lingers for a moment, as if he’s got something to say. Ultimately, San sends you another tight-lipped smile, securing Lost Horizon in his coat pocket and turning towards the door. 

You bite your lip, grabbing the package of cookies you’d hidden under the register. Just before he pushes the door open, you stop him. “Wait!” 

Hurriedly, you walk towards him, all but shoving the package of cookies in his hands. “As a thank you,” you say, quickly clarifying, “For coming into the store today. I hope you enjoy the rest of the book.” 

Had you given the older lady cookies? San hadn’t paid attention, but he grips the package tight in his hands. “Thank you, too…” he waits, as you answer with your name. He repeats it back, hoping it was as gentle and warm as when you had said his some hours ago. “For the book and for the cookies.”

*****

That night, San reads through the remaining pages of Lost Horizon in his silent apartment, snacking on your chocolate chip cookies alongside a glass of the milk that had surprisingly not gone bad. He lays awake, thinking about the book, about the characters, about the settings, and that night when he falls asleep, he dreams himself among them in the lamasery. 

For some hours that day, you’d helped San drift his mind away from the stuffy precinct and his inconsiderate coworkers. Maybe this is what the Chief was talking about. Maybe not. But when San wakes up the following morning, he decides to take another walk.

There’s no rain, but the day is significantly colder than the day before, biting at San’s exposed skin. It may not have been the most ideal temperature for taking a walk, but San does nonetheless, finding himself once again on Main Street, where yesterday’s crowd of people is nowhere to be found on today’s Monday morning.

Once again, he decides to turn down Abbey Avenue, and once again, he finds himself standing under your Old & Rare signage. Peering through the window, you’re nowhere to be seen, well at least as far as San is able to see through the old piled and stacked books. There’s no open hours posted on the door or posted anywhere online, and San knows better to try the door, so he lingers on the street that’s quiet in the hours before noon.

Turning around, he sees that some shops are open, so he visits the mattress store, and even with no intention of replacing his current bedding, still walks out with multiple cubed samples of memory foams and mini pillows. He also stops in one of the many salons as well, purchasing pomade and gel. He strolls through the many other shops, many of which don’t have much to offer San, but it’s a nice change to talk to people who aren’t filing complaints or opening cases. 

Finally, just minutes before noon, he walks up to the bookstore again. He looks through the window again, and when he spots you writing in your ledger notebook, he knocks on the door. 

The noise startles you, and you’re temporarily confused before you see San from yesterday standing at the door. 

Truthfully, you were never expecting to see him ever again. This was a big city, and he’d only stumbled into Abbey Avenue and your store by accident. Also you were certain that after accidentally, although well-intentionally, insulting him to his face and then offhandedly apologizing by giving him some cookies, he would have most definitely pegged you as a crazy lady and vowed to never wander down this area again or into your store.

Today, you’d woken up feeling gloomy knowing that San would never end up in Abbey Avenue again, and to shake away the sadness, you’d lay in bed for much longer than usual and when you finally did wake, you’d gone straight to your kitchen to put bake a loaf of spiced gingerbread, before finally heading downstairs to open up the store. 

But seeing San looking through the window with shopping bags in hand, you’re pleasantly surprised, flustered even. With an exasperated smile, you wave, motioning for him to come inside. 

“Hi!” You chirp, and you feel like you’re out of breath. You’re able to see San’s face more clearly in the midday light, noting the blush that runs across his cheeks. He’s dressed similarly to yesterday in his neutrals and darks, looking more like the owner of your bookstore more than you, who’s also dressed similarly to yesterday in your creams and pastels. 

“Hello,” is all San is able to say, not quite sure what he’s doing here as he fiddles with the strings of shopping bags. He was able to excuse his reason for coming yesterday on the torrential weather, but today, although the sky was littered with flat clouds, not a single drop of rain was expected to fall. 

He mulls the substance of each conversation over in his head, unable to actually say anything at all. Should he thank you for the delectable cookies? Should he ask you about your hours of operation? Should he talk about the ending of the book and what happens to Conway? God, the book was amazing.

Thankfully for him, you’re happy to lead the conversation, asking, “I’m taking it you finished Lost Horizon?”

Eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide, he looks at you with shock. “Yes, I di— how did you know?”

“You learn to notice the look after working at a bookstore for so long,” you tease with a shrug. “So, how’d you like it?” you ask, leaning your hip against the register. 

San grips the handles of his shopping bags in his hand, feeling the burn of their plastic on his ungloved hands. The book was incredible. The location, the philosophy splendid. San isn’t sure why he hadn’t picked up reading after so many rough days at the precinct. He’s grateful you didn’t give him a book about a gruesome murder or mystery. Just as you had said yesterday, Hilton’s writing had made him feel good, hopeful even. But these emotions were too much for him to put into cohesive words, so he pondered for a moment, somehow sure you’d give him the time to think about without judgement. 

And you do. While he collects his thoughts, you unabashedly take the time to stare at San. His reddened fingers clung onto a bag from Lou’s Mattress Shoppe, the perfectly cubed samples of memory foam jutting out from the plastic bag, and the other from Harry’s Hair Boutique, its brown bag concealing the tubbed products inside. 

Today, he was wearing a gray, long-sleeved shirt who’s long sleeves were proving to be too long, reaching beyond his wrist to cover his knuckles under his coat. The coat was the same one he’d worn yesterday, but in the light, you’re able to see some of the fibers from the woolen jacket had rubbed off onto his dark gray shirt and his collar. You were tempted to reach across the register and brush them off yourself, before you’re shaking the unprofessional thought away when San finally speaks.

“It was… brilliant,” he pauses to look at you. You’ve got a gentle smile on your face, slightly flushed as if you’ve been outside in the frigid weather. “Can you recommend something else for me?”

“Would you like to see something in particular?”

“Surprise me,” he finds himself saying.

The words sound like music to your ears, and grinning widely, you nod. The joy on your face quickly morphs into inquisitiveness as you navigate the aisles in search for another book San would enjoy. 

It’s equally thrilling and daunting to be in charge of someone’s next literary adventure. People like San were never in your store, and elderly ladies that would frequent would never ask you for your recommendations. Once in a while, some would trickle in from Main Street, haphazardly ending up in your corner of Abbey Avenue, come in for a quick see-through, maybe take a picture or two of the interior, and walk out only to never come again. 

So treating this as your utmost priority, you scan through the titles you’ve amassed with a laser-focus. You couldn’t give him something like Lost Horizon again, so you flit past the classics section. He seemed relaxed yesterday and you wanted him to be relaxed today, too, so with that in mind, you ignore the anxiety-inducing murder-mysteries. You come to a stop at the contemporary section.

These books were not for everyone, yet you found yourself lingering. Turning into the aisle, you try to remember the title of a book you’d read quite some time ago, eyebrows furrowed in series intent, hoping you don’t skim by the title by accident. When you reach a thin book with the gold-plated title, you beam with excitement. 

The Unchangeable Spots of Leopards by Kristopher Jansma. You’d read it for the first time during your first year in college, cozied up in your lofted bed with a mug of warm tea while a party ensued on both the floors above and below you. It was a good companion on that chilly night, but you were uneasy about what it would be for San. As a book about books and writing, it definitely wasn’t for everybody. But the prose was beautiful and story engaging, so shaking away the self-conscious feeling, you confidently hold the book out to him. 

“I have a feeling you’d like this one,” you tell him, watching as he flips the book in his hands. 

This book was definitely younger than Lost Horizon, and with the rigid, hardbound covers, the pages inside were far more well-protected than the pocketbook he’d purchased yesterday. He smiles as he checks the publication date and reads through the contents page, and like yesterday, it’s tight-lipped. 

But with the little more light that’s brightening the store, you can make out the faintest dimples in his cheeks. Suddenly, the ruggedness, the tiredness, the worn image you had of him fades away. He looks incredibly cute, like a big teddy bear wearing a disguise, and at the thought, you giggle lightly. 

San looks up at you in surprise, your laughter flowing like a forgotten melody in his head. He smiles wider, mostly out of confusion, but also to mimic you. You wave your own laughter away, calming yourself before clarifying, “I’m sorry, I just—”

There’s a shrill ringing of a timer coming from upstairs. Your spiced gingerbread loaf! 

There’s a panic in your eyes. “Oh, I’ve got to get that!” you say, before leaving San in the aisle as you dash towards your wire staircase. Making your way up, you continue, all but yelling, “You can join Violet and make yourself comfortable. And oh, make sure you read the Author’s Note, it’s actually a part of the story in this book!” 

And suddenly, San’s standing alone in the middle of the quiet bookstore. He can hear your footsteps above him scuffling across the floor to turn off your timer, as he flips the book in his hands again. San actually wasn’t planning on staying to read today, but now, he supposes, he probably could spare some time. 

He walks over the couch, where Violet is still lying atop of her fluffy cushion, and turns on the I-Spy lamp himself. He settles into the well worn leather, giving the sleepy Violet a timid pet. She doesn’t move away, in fact, nuzzling into San’s touch. 

Upstairs, you remove your steaming loaf from the oven with a satisfied smile. The loaf has risen perfectly symmetrical, the heavenly smell permeating throughout your home. Without giving it much time to cool properly, you begin to cut into the loaf, slicing through the hot bread. You plate a couple of slices on a plate, hurrying downstairs to give some to San. 

The cookies you’d made yesterday had partly been to serve as an apology for your comment yesterday, but it had been nice to share your baking with someone again. 

This bookstore had been your mother’s, and when she’d passed some time ago, the store had remained shut for the years immediately following. You’d spent those years deflecting the grief, busying yourself with finishing school, starting work at the bakery uptown, and staying as far away from Abbey Avenue as you possibly could. 

You were an exemplary employee, always early, first to offer to stay late, and eager to cover shifts for the other employees, but the work was only delaying the inevitable. You let the grief build up, neglecting the painful truth that your mother was gone for years, but after a particularly bad day, you’d stumbled into Abbey Avenue drunk, crying your heart out at the doors of the closed bookstore. 

The next morning, you rummaged through your apartment for the keys to the bookstore, opening its doors for the first time in nearly 3 years. 

You were searching for something you think, but you weren’t quite sure what it was. Maybe you were hoping your mother would walk down the staircase, adorned in her long skirts with a book always in hand, asking why you hadn’t come to visit in so long.

You had ignored the state of the bookstore altogether, climbing up the rickety wire staircase into the modest apartment upstairs. 

You took your time, sorting through every single piece of your mother’s belongings, smiling at the bittersweet memories framed in the pictures beside her bed and her personal collection of books with her notes still scribbled in the margins that she read to you from when you were little. You let yourself feel her loss, finally able to accept her absence in your life.

After wiping away your tears, you decided to stop running away and stay here to clean up the store and open its doors to the public again.

That first day, you hadn't even known where to start, simply being able to walk in the store had become an obstacle. There were no clean pathways, and the abandoned store had collected a thick layer of dust over every single open surface. It’s no secret to the regulars that your mother was a commercial hoarder, the old and new inventory all combined to form a stack of mismatched genres and various types of prints. It had been a difficult time, and it still was. 

But you persisted, organizing and cleaning and dusting, repeating the process over and over and over again until you could finally make out the ebony hardwood floors. You had cleared away the antique and expensive books further back in the store and placed the newer books upfront. 

But you couldn’t stay away from baking too long, and to relax from the hours and hours of organizing, you needed to destress in the kitchen with familiar ingredients and smells. Using a combination of the skills you’d picked up from the uptown bakery and your mother’s old recipe books, you started whipping up fresh mini batches of cookies everyday. Then you started to make more complicated recipes, including croissants, brownies, and pastries. 

You wanted to start selling your food in the bookstore as well, thinking it would up the ambience, the smell of bread drawing in customers away from the wholesalers, but you’d sworn to yourself you would organize the mess downstairs completely before you did. And that had been easier said than done. It had been nearly a year, and you only seemed to have made a measly dent in the heavy stock of books. 

Until then, you suppose treating one cute customer for free would do no harm.

Before San’s able to get too far into the book, you skip down the stairs with some slices of your freshly finished spiced gingerbread loaf. 

“Here,” you hand him the plate. “Something to accompany your reading.”

You seemed too nice. And this certainly wasn’t a good business technique; you surely had to be operating on a loss with the amount of treats you’d given him. San would’ve brought this up, even denied your plate of amazing smelling bread, but with the hopeful expression gracing your face, he can’t seem to find any words to say besides a low thanks that he’s not even sure you could hear. 

This book was very different from yesterday. San didn’t even know the main character’s name, but he kept following his story all the way from high school to college to adulthood, from the heat of the Grand Canyon to the freezing cabin in the Arctic circle to the rolling hill stations in the tropics of India. 

In the hours that follow, several customers come and go, but San pays them no mind, reading quietly and snacking on your bread. You watch him read, almost as peacefully as yesterday, with even his large frame swallowed up by your leather couch. 

By happenstance, when he does look up, the sun has set yet again, and the store is empty. He spots you across from him, some aisles down, trying to dust the top of the bookshelves, standing precariously on the tips of your toes yet still unable to reach. He gives Violet a quick scratch before shutting his book and standing to help you. 

“Here, I can help you,” he says, voice gruff from hours of unuse. Startled at his sudden appearance behind you, you’re only able to send him a grateful smile while handing him the duster. 

He takes it wordlessly, throwing you his familiar tight-lipped smile, dimples making a pleasant reappearance. He reaches above you, getting a much cleaner swipe with his height compared to your aimlessly poke around in the hopes to clean something method. 

As he’s cleaning, his sweater rises up, revealing his toned stomach. The sight has you shamelessly staring, wanting to reach out and trace the defined muscles under his skin. 

Suddenly, you hear rampant yelling from across the street. One of the many shady loaning businesses doors fly open, and several angry people walk out. Many of them are cursing out the people inside, while others busy themselves in knocking over the trash cans placed in front of the establishment. 

It’s rowdy for several minutes, and much of the angered crowd walks past your bookstore, still muttering and spewing derogatory phrases back towards the loaning business. Through your window, some of the angered faces even look directly at you, yelling iterations of What, YOU gonna fuck me over, too? 

Instinctively, San rounds your body, blocking the mob’s crowd from you. They soon disappear, quickly turning down the street onto the main roads of the city. 

From behind San’s shoulder, you watch the owner of the loaning business step outside, looking both ways, making absolutely sure that the angered mob has gone while he picks up the remnants of the trash and mess they’ve left behind. 

This would’ve been one of those better times to have cameras handy. There’s no telling what the mass of anger would’ve done to your store had they just been a tad bit more angry. 

But more anger is probably something you don’t want to see, so San reconsiders his words and clears his throat, asking, “I apologize if this is intrusive, but have you considered getting cameras?”

You sigh, watching the loaning business across the street shut their blinds and flip their sign to read CLOSED. “Yeah, I have. It’s just that I haven’t really gotten troublesome customers like that. Everyone that comes in is always typically nice, so it’s never at the top of my priorities.” You turn your back to the window, feeling the stitching underneath your sweater. “And I know I should, what with living right upstairs and all, but I don’t know, I’ve just never gotten around to it.”

“Hmm,” San only hums.   

*****

When you spot him the next day, he waits nervously for you outside the door again, knocking to alert you of his presence, shy and head turned down towards a crumpled brown paper bag in his hands. 

As you move to greet him, he all but shoves the bag into your hands. “I had some extra laying around and thought they’d be of more use to you than rotting away in my garage,” he says, almost defensively. Inside the brown bag, there are 3 wireless security cameras. 

As you rummage through the bag, San desperately hopes you can’t tell that the cameras are newly purchased after all the time he’d spent tirelessly working to scrape off the impossible sticker residue from the boxes. 

But you’re simply too elated. Cameras had been on your to-do list, falling just under cleaning up the inventory, but under just the sheer amount of inventory you had to get through, they’d become a forgotten priority, even after the incident yesterday. 

The notion has you embarrassingly on the verge of tears, and in swift steps, you’re rounding the counter and wrapping your arms around San’s neck in an overwhelmed hug. It has San stumbling backwards before he catches himself. 

As soon as you’re able to breathe in his cologne, you suddenly sober and realize the position you’re in, immediately loosening your hold around his neck. Clearing your throat, you move back around the counter and laser your focus on the cords and instructions associated with the cameras. 

San can feel the blush settle across his face, and he bites his lip, tugging at the skin. He wished he’d hugged you back, but the moment has passed too quickly. He flicks his eyes to you. 

You’re in deep concentration, observing the labels and instructions, your furrowed eyebrows too obvious in exposing your utter confusion. “I can help you set them up,” he offers, scratching the hair at the nape of his neck.

A light drizzle begins to paint your windows when you happily take him up on the offer. He sets up one camera to face the front of the store and register, promising to set up the last one as soon as the rain stops, and in return, you place a copy of Fahrenheit 451 alongside a plate of teddy bear-shaped vanilla oatmeal cookies on your leather couch for him. 

The next day, the rain has yet to let up, but he spots parts of a bookshelf you’ve abandoned in an obscure corner of the store and offers to build it for you, for which you repay him with The Life of Pi and a slice of red velvet cake. 

“I can help you assemble that,” he had said. 

The rain is unceasing, so the day after that, he fixes up the jammed register, for which you repay him with Pachinko and a couple of warm butter croissants. 

“I can help unjam it,” he had said.

Pachinko was longer, it’s story heavier and more expansive than the other books you’d recommended him, and you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him the next day. 

But he surprises you, knocking on your door as you’re adorning your large Christmas tree with your collection of ornaments, ready to talk about Sunja’s life and Hansu’s decisions in great depth with you. 

“I can help you decorate the tree while we talk,” he had said.

That day, he sits on the floor near the tree with a stack of childrens’ books, a combination of both his and your favorites. 

The next day, he aids you in completing the science fiction section, leaving each and every book on the shelf catalogued and inventoried, and you recommend to him a book of H.G. Wells’ short stories and some muffins. 

“I can help you catalogue those books,” he had said. 

The rain has yet to stop even the day after, San spends the better part of the afternoon assembling Violet’s new cat tower in a quiet corner near the couch. The cat watches him from her perch on the back of the sofa, her tail flicking lazily as if supervising his every move.

“I can help you build that,” he had said. 

Once he tightens the last screw, he steps back to admire his work. Violet wastes no time, leaping gracefully onto the lowest level and sniffing curiously at the new structure. Within moments, she’s sprawled on the top platform, her paws tucked neatly under her chest as she surveys the room like a queen on her throne.

You approach San, holding out a book. “Here’s the first of The Boxcar Children series,” you say with a smile. “Figured you might like something lighthearted after your last read.”

San takes the book, glancing at the cover—a simple illustration of four children standing in front of an old boxcar. He flips it over, reading the back blurb as you settle beside him on the couch, your gaze drifting to Violet.

“You know,” you begin, your voice soft, “Violet’s actually named after one of the siblings in that book.”

San raises a brow, glancing between you and the cat, who is now grooming herself atop the tower. “Really?”

You nod, leaning back slightly. “Yeah. Back when I worked at the bakery uptown, I used to feed the strays that hung around the alley behind the shop. There were always four of them. They sort of reminded me of the Boxcar Children, you know, sticking together, looking out for one another. But there was one cat who was always apprehensive. She was shy, always waiting to eat until I’d walked away. She never came close, never let me touch her, not even once. For the longest time, I thought she didn’t trust me at all.”

San had listened intently, his attention fixed on you. “And yet, she’s here now,” he said, his tone low.

“She’s the only one who followed me when I left,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. “The others stayed behind, but Violet… I don’t know. Maybe she saw something in me that the others didn’t.”

San tilts his head, his eyes softening. “Sounds like she trusted you more than you thought.”

You laugh lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe. I guess I saw a little of myself in her, too. I was a lot like Violet growing up—quiet, keeping to myself, waiting in the background until everyone else had moved on. I think I still am in some ways.” You pause, your cheeks warming slightly. “And, well, we couldn’t have the same name, so… Violet it was.”

Your story trails off with a shrug, and you avoid San’s gaze, feeling suddenly self-conscious. It wasn’t a story you shared often, mostly because it felt silly—meaningless, even. Yet somehow with San, the words had come easily, almost as if the rainy day had coaxed them out of you.

But despite it, out of all the stories you’ve recommended to San so far, he thinks this one is his favorite. 

*****

The next day, with nothing left to build or fix and rain still pouring, you’ve got a book picked out for him before he even comes knocking at the store’s doors. To accompany it, you’d readied a dish of cinnamon rolls that were cooling upstairs. “You look like you would appreciate this,” you say, handing him an untouched copy of Kristopher Jansma’s newest book. 

He scratches his head, suddenly shy. “Actually, I was hoping to read some older stuff? Like stuff from the past?”

Your eyes widen in surprise then very quickly in excitement, and before he knows it, you’ve grabbed the sleeve of his coat jacket and are pulling him towards the back of the store. 

You’re able to dodge the misaligned shelves that jut forward out of practice, but San bumps into everything, sending books tumbling to the floor as his wide shoulders collide with thuds against the wooden shelves. He tries to stop, wanting to pick up the mess he’s leaving in his wake, but you only persist, telling him, “It’s okay, I’ll pick them later. Come on!”

You trudge further and further into the store, the atmosphere cooling even more. Finally, you pull San behind a rather tall bookshelf that he has a bit of a hard time getting through. Nonetheless, he squeezes in and follows you into a makeshift room. Its walls are filled to the brim with books, but unlike the others in the store, these are much larger. 

“This is my special collection,” you tell him, leaning against the mahogany table. “I’ve got archived newspapers, magazines, and journals from all over the city here. Most of these are from libraries in or around the city that have shut down, but I’ve bought a couple of them, too. Oh! Like this one!” You lean forward and grab a book titled “African Jungle Animals”. “This was published in 1937, but it’s got all sorts of information about species classification that’s incorrect by today’s standards, but it’s so easy to get lost in it. Oh!”

You pull out another book, and San listens diligently. Now that he’s not focused on the probable bruising that’s developing on his shoulders, he realizes how close you are. You were so beautiful, and even in the dull light of lamps, your eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm as you grabbed yet another book to show San. 

The realization has his breath catching in his throat. He can smell your sweet perfume and count each of your lashes, and he stills, watching in sheer awe. 

“I really want to get all of these things organized and scanned to put online… I just think there’s someone out there that’s interested in, oh, I don’t know,” you grab a newspaper from the shelf, “recipes from the The Great Depression.”

The bell at the door rings, announcing the arrival of another customer, and you stand at its sound, stacking the pile of books in your hand on the table. “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” you say, slinking out of the intimate room. 

San watches you rush towards the customer, and when he can hear your cheery “Hello!”, he turns his attention back to the little room. He notices another lamp in the corner and switches it on, brightening the space a little.

The common disarray that he’d become familiar with at the front of the store welcomed him just as loudly here. He decides to place the stack of books you’d left on the table away in the same general area you’d pulled them out of, and then, with the cleared desk, he begins to thumb through your special collection. There’s a youthful part of him that feels giddy knowing that you’ve welcomed him into your private collection.

San suppresses the feeling, opting to flip through a copy of Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha you’ve left on the desk. He reads through the first couple of pages, pocketing it to take him with him.

Under the book were the brittle pages of a 1950s newspaper that San decided to skim, his fingers careful not to tear the delicate material. The faint smell of aged paper fills the air, grounding him in a moment that feels oddly intimate. As he scans the faded headlines, he finds himself captivated by the glimpse into another time. A world that feels distant and yet eerily familiar. 

The atmosphere in the room is quiet but not silent; faint noises from the store’s main area drift in. The creak of floorboards, your cheerful laugh as you chat with a customer. He exhales slowly, letting himself sink into the calm that this little corner of the store offers. 

It’s then that he spots it: a stack of yellowed newspapers bound together with twine, pushed into the corner of a low shelf. The date on the top page catches his eye, and he pulls it free with deliberate care. As he begins to read, his chest tightens. 

The headline doesn’t scream, but it whispers loudly enough: a failed case, mishandled evidence, and the name of a familiar precinct. He reads further, his heart sinking as the pieces fall into place. This was the case. The one that had haunted the chief for decades, the one that was never spoken of but always loomed in the background of every cautionary warning the chief had ever given him. 

The details are vague, the article careful not to name names, but the tone is damning. The sense of failure bleeds through the words, painting a picture of a situation that spiraled out of control. San sets the paper down, his hands tightening into fists on the edge of the desk. 

He can see it clearly now: the frustration, the mounting pressure, and the breaking point the chief must have reached. It’s too familiar. San had walked dangerously close to that same line himself, and the realization shakes him to his core. 

The sound of your voice filters into the room again, and he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. This was supposed to be a refuge, a break from the chaos of his thoughts. But now, all he can feel is the weight of his own choices pressing down on him, mirroring the failures of someone he’d once idolized.

San exhales sharply, trying to shake off the tightening grip in his chest. He pushes the newspaper aside, its weight feeling heavier than it should, and picks up another, hoping for something, anything, to pull him away from the spiraling thoughts that have begun to consume him.

He reads aimlessly, flipping through pages of advertisements for long-defunct businesses, stories of local events, and the occasional human-interest piece. The words blur together, their meanings losing shape as his mind drifts back to the headline.

The familiar creak of the floorboards and the soft hum of your voice in the distance remind him of where he is. He forces himself to focus on the present, to absorb the comfort of this quiet corner. He leans back in the chair, letting the low light of the lamp and the rhythmic patter of rain on the roof lull him.

Somewhere between the yellowed pages and the warmth of the room, his eyes grow heavy. He doesn’t notice at first, his grip on the latest newspaper loosening as his body succumbs to the exhaustion he’s carried for weeks.

When closing time comes and passes, you don’t worry about San. You assume he’s lost track of time, so you busy yourself with the usual tasks—dusting shelves, straightening displays, and locking the front door against the persistent rain. The warmth of the bookstore wraps around you like a cocoon, and for a while, it’s enough to stave off concern.

It’s only when the clock inches closer to midnight that unease begins to creep in. You haven’t seen or heard San for hours, and the faint hum of the rain outside feels louder in the growing stillness. Finally, you decide to check on him, your footsteps quiet as you make your way to your private collection.

As you approach, you hear the faint sound of light snores, and your worry eases. Squeezing into the room, you find San slumped over the desk, fast asleep. His head rests awkwardly on his arm, his face half-buried in the sleeve of his turtleneck. A loose strand of hair has fallen from his normally neat style, and Violet, ever the opportunist, has curled up comfortably in his lap, purring softly.

You linger, unwilling to wake him just yet. In the dim light, you take in the quiet details you hadn’t allowed yourself to notice before: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint crease between his brows even in sleep, the way his long fingers are splayed over the newspaper he’d left open. But as you watch, his expression begins to change.

The furrow in his brow deepens, and his fingers clenched into fists, the paper crumpling beneath them. He twitches, his breath coming in sharp, uneven huffs. Violet stirs, her ears flicking in annoyance before she hops off his lap, padding to the corner of the room. You hesitate, unsure of what to do, but the sight of his tightening features and restless movements pushes you forward.

Reaching out, you press your thumb gently to the crease in his forehead, smoothing it out with a light, steady touch. You hope your hand feels warm against his skin, soothing enough to pull him from whatever bad dream has its hold on him. For a moment, his expression softens, and you think it’s working.

But then San stirs, his hand shooting up to catch yours before you can pull away. His grip is firm but not harsh, his eyes blinking open, hazy and unfocused as he takes in his surroundings. The surprise on his face sharpens quickly into clarity, and you stand frozen, your heart racing.

“You were having a bad dream,” you blurt out, the words tumbling over each other. “I was just trying to help.”

The realization dawns on him, and he releases your hand, smoothing his palms over his pants as though trying to ground himself. His embarrassment is palpable, but you’re rooted in place, watching as he gathers himself. 

There’s a shift in his demeanor, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but it’s there. It seems as if the walls that had finally been knocked over had been built right back up in a matter of hours. 

Pushing aside the wrenching feeling, you clear your throat. “I’ve made cinnamon rolls,” you offer, your voice quieter now. “If you want some...” You trail off, hoping to diffuse the awkwardness.

San clears his throat as well, finally looking up at you. His voice is low and gruff from sleep as he says, “Yeah, that sounds great. Could I use your restroom first?”

You nod quickly, stepping aside to make room for him to exit. “Yeah, of course. It’s upstairs.”

You lead him up the spiral wire staircase, glancing back to see him rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his movements slow and deliberate. When the bathroom door closes behind him, you exhale heavily, pressing a hand to the arm he’d gripped moments ago.

His touch had been brief, but it lingered, searing into your skin with a quiet intensity that left you flustered.

Shaking the thought away, you turn back to the kitchen and begin packaging some cinnamon rolls in a brown paper bag. The act steadies you, the familiar motions bringing a small sense of calm. 

From inside the bathroom, you can hear the rush of water from your faucet. It runs for several seconds before it's turned off. Silence follows after, as you wait outside for San to come out. 

When an odd number of beats have passed, you step in front of the door, raising your hand to knock, uncertain if you should offer any help. Your hand hovers in the air, the hesitation thick in your chest. You take a shaky breath, steeling yourself to follow through. But before your knuckles can connect with the wood, the door swings open.

San stands inches away, his broad frame filling the doorway, his expression as startled as your own. For a moment, neither of you speaks. The dim light from the room behind him casts his face in shadows, softening the sharp lines of his jaw. The collar of his turtleneck is wet, as is his hair, and the tension in his shoulders speaks of a man caught somewhere between exhaustion and vigilance.

You blink, realizing how close you are, the air between you charged and thin. “I… I was just going to see if you needed anything,” you manage, your voice quieter than intended.

San’s gaze flickers to yours, his dark eyes searching your face for a beat too long before you step back, giving him space to exit. “I’m fine,” he says, though his voice lacks conviction. He clears his throat.

The room feels warmer now, though the silence is anything but comforting. San stands a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his posture rigid despite the quiet setting. “The rain’s finally stopped. I could put that last camera up,” he says, turning away from you. One look out the window tells you that it in fact has not stopped, turning instead into snow. But San walks toward the staircase, deciding not to turn around.  

“That’s okay. It’s late anyways, you can do it tomorrow,” you say, as he continues down the stairs. “You should just stay the night.”

Now that has him stopping. 

You take the opportunity to get in front of him, braving him directly in his eyes. “The weather’s getting pretty bad, I mean. And it’s the least I can do, you know, with all the stuff you’ve helped me with around here…” your confidence tapers off at San’s silence.

For a moment, San doesn’t move, caught between the weight of your words and the storm raging inside him. His lips press together, a faint tremor betraying the steadiness he’s trying so hard to maintain. You can see it all—confusion, longing, fear—all warring for dominance in his dark eyes. His gaze flickers to yours, then away, as if the intensity of your sincerity is too much to bear. The silence between you stretches thin, heavy with everything unspoken, until he finally inhales sharply, the sound breaking the tension like a fragile thread snapping under pressure. 

His hand twitches at his side, like he’s debating whether to reach for you or push you away, but ultimately, he takes a step back, distancing himself from the decision he doesn’t want to make, and continues towards the door. The bell above the door jingles sharply as he pushes it open, the cold air rushing in to meet the warmth of the store. 

You stand frozen for a moment, watching as the snow swirls around him, clinging to his dark coat and dampening his neat hair. He doesn’t look back, his shoulders hunched against the biting wind, but you can see the tension in every step he takes. 

Your chest tightens, and before you even realize it, you’re moving. Grabbing the umbrella from its place by the counter, you rush to the door and step into the frame, your voice soft but firm as you call after him. “San, wait—take this.” You hold the umbrella out toward him, your hand trembling in the cold, hoping he’ll take it, hoping he’ll stop.

San turns around, desperately hoping that in the blur of the rain you can’t see how much he wants to walk back into the bookstore and kiss you. He brings his hands up to the forehead, shielding his eyes from the numbing downpour. 

You want him to come back inside, to protect him from the freezing rain, but his expression is stoic, similar to the day when he first walked into your store, so biting back your words, you hold out your umbrella for him to take. 

San doesn’t take the umbrella. He just stares at it for a moment, his lips parting as if to say something, but nothing comes. Instead, he exhales sharply and looks away, his jaw tightening.

“You don’t have to do this,” he mutters. “You don’t have to be so nice. You don’t have to feed me and entertain me because I’m lonely. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You step closer, the umbrella still outstretched, trembling slightly in your hand. You’re unable to say anything back, the bitter sadness of his words catching you off guard. 

But San only continues with a barely audible laugh. He shakes his head, melted snow droplets flicking from his damp hair. “You don’t get it. You think I’m this... decent guy, just because I’ve fixed a few things around here and kept you company when no one else did. But I’m not. I’ve done things—things that would make you look at me differently if you knew. And I don’t think I can handle seeing that look in your eyes.”

“Then tell me,” you say, your voice steady even though your heart is pounding. “Tell me whatever you think would scare me off, because I’m standing here, San. I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”

He finally meets your gaze, and the weight in his eyes makes your breath catch. For a moment, it feels like he might. Like he might let you in, lay everything bare, and give you the truth you’re asking for. But then his walls go back up, and he shakes his head again.

“I can’t stay,” he says, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “Not because I don’t want to—but because I do. And that’s the problem.”

“San—”

“I’m sorry.”

Before you can stop him, he turns and steps out into the snow. The umbrella slips from your fingers, falling uselessly to the ground as you watch him walk away, his figure disappearing into the swirling white.

You take a shaky breath, the cold biting at your skin. A part of you wants to run after him, to drag him back inside and make him see what you see in him. But another part of you knows that he won’t let you. Not yet anyways.

So instead, you pick up the umbrella, close the door, and wait. For the storm to pass, and maybe, just maybe, for him to find his way back.

*****

The next day, San comes back, though he tells himself it’s only to return the copy of Siddhartha he’d absentmindedly shoved into his pocket the night before. His steps are brisk as he approaches your bookstore, his thoughts a tangled mix of excuses and denials about why he’s here again.

He pushes the door open, and the faint chime of the bell feels oddly comforting. But what catches him off guard is the sight of you, bundled up in a thick jacket, a scarf wound tightly around your neck, and gloves covering your hands. Your nose is sniffling as you greet him with a shy, “Hi,” shocked to even see him back.

“Hey,” he replies, holding up the book. “I forgot I had this with me.”

You wave off his explanation, already stepping aside to let him in. “Don’t worry about it. Come in, it's freezing out there.”

San steps inside, and immediately the cold hits him. The store is far chillier than it had been the previous day, and he raises an eyebrow as you rub your gloved hands together for warmth.

“The storm blew out the power last night on the whole street,” you explain, motioning toward the darkened corners of the store. “So it’s a bit chilly in here. I’ve been trying to get the fire going, but…” You trail off, gesturing toward the old fireplace nestled near the back of the store. The pile of wood inside sits stubbornly unlit, a faint trace of smoke lingering in the air from your earlier attempts.

San glances at the fireplace, then back at you. He hesitates for a moment, then says the words you’ve been hoping to hear: “I can help you fix that.”

Relief floods your body, and you’ve done every time before, you accept his help.

The day stretches on, and San stays. Despite his insistence that he wouldn’t linger, he finds himself caught up in the small tasks you offer him to help keep the store running smoothly in the absence of power. Together, you rearrange shelves closer to the windows to take advantage of the fading daylight, and he even helps you move a heavy display table that you’ve been meaning to shift for weeks.

By late afternoon, the fires, both in the store and our apartment upstairs, finally roar to life, and the once-chilly bookstore begins to fill with a gentle, enveloping warmth. You can’t help but smile as you watch San step back, wiping his hands on his coat, the flickering flames casting a soft glow across his features.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice filled with genuine gratitude.

He only smiles, his lips tight and his dimples making a rare appearance.

As the sun sets and the firelight grows more prominent, the atmosphere in the store shifts. The usual hum of conversation fades, leaving behind a quiet that feels heavy, almost charged. You busy yourself with other tasks like straightening a pile of books here, brushing imaginary dust off a counter there, but your eyes keep drifting back to San, who sits near the fire, intently watching over the dancing flames, making sure they don’t go out.

He seems lost in thought, his usual guarded demeanor softened in the flickering light. You wonder what’s running through his mind but don’t dare to ask. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s not quite comfortable either. It’s something else entirely, something that feels fragile and electric all at once.

As the clock nears closing time, you glance outside at the snow-covered street. The storm has finally calmed, but the icy wind still howls faintly against the windows. You turn back to San, who seems reluctant to move, his posture stiffening as if preparing to leave.

“You should warm up a bit before you head out,” you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can second-guess yourself. “You’ve been helping me all day. At least let me make you some tea or coffee?”

San looks at you, surprise flickering in his dark eyes. For a moment, you think he’ll refuse like he did yesterday, his lips parting to offer an excuse. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “Tea would be good.”

“Great,” you smile, trying to mask the relief that floods through you.

The power outage had left the bookstore bathed in a warm, flickering glow. You’d pulled out every candle you could find—short pillars, tea lights, and a few mismatched taper candles. They were scattered across the shelves and counters, their soft light dancing on the walls and casting long shadows.

As you made your way up to prepare tea for San, you grabbed an extra candle and holder from a shelf. When San sees you juggling the items, he silently takes the candle from you, following behind with it held high to light your path.

“I can manage,” you said lightly, but he only shook his head, staying close as you climbed the spiral staircase.

The kitchen was dark and drafty, the windows rattling faintly from the lingering wind outside. Aside from the orange hues of the fireplace upstairs, the single candle San held provided the only light in the kitchen, the flame trembling as you set about filling the kettle. You moved to the stove, fumbling slightly in the dimness as you reached for the tea tins on the counter.

“Hold it closer?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at San. He stepped forward without a word, bringing the candle nearer to the workspace.

But as you reached for the tea, the candle tilted slightly in his hand, and a small drip of molten wax landed on the back of your hand. You flinched instinctively, gasping at the hot sensation the wax leaves behind.

San’s eyes widened, and he set the candle down on the counter, grabbing your wrist gently. “Are you okay? Let me see,” he said, his voice low but filled with concern.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, though your voice wavered. It had felt good. You turned your hand over, the faint red mark already beginning to cool. “These are made of paraffin, so it’s… it’s all good,” you added awkwardly.

San didn’t seem convinced, his brows furrowed as he inspected your hand. “You’re sure?”

“See?” You ran your fingers over the reddened skin where the wax had fallen, showing him there was no lasting damage. “All good,” you confirmed.

Only then did he release your wrist, though his worry didn’t completely fade. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he pulled away, leaving a warmth that lingered longer than the sting of the wax.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Don’t be,” you replied with a soft smile, trying to ease his discomfort. “It’s just a little wax. I’ve survived worse.”

The kettle began to whistle, breaking the charged silence between you. You turned back to the stove, busying yourself with pouring the steaming water into two mugs. San picked up the candle again, holding it steady this time as he stepped back to give you space.

When you turned around with the mugs in hand, he was watching you closely, his expression unreadable in the flickering light. For a moment, you thought about saying something, anything, to bridge the tension that had settled between you. 

But instead, you simply handed him one of the mugs and sat on the rug in front of the fireplace.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his fingers brushing yours as he took the cup, sitting with crossed legs beside you.

The material of the rug is soft and holds the heat from the fireplace well. As San sits in front of the fireplace, the tufts of fur tickle his skin, and suddenly he feels shy about the events from yesterday.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low but steady. “About last night…”

You blinked, startled by the suddenness of his words. “San—”

“No, let me just—” He cut you off, his words tumbling out faster now, like he’d been holding them back for far too long. “I shouldn’t have left like that. It wasn’t fair to you. I just… I needed to clear my head. I didn’t mean to make you feel like—like I was angry or—” He stopped, groaning softly, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “God, I’m terrible at this.”

“San—” you tried again, but he kept going, his voice growing more flustered.

“I mean, I didn’t even explain. I just walked out like some kind of idiot, and you were trying to help, and I—”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Turning abruptly, you put your mug down and turn to him, your heart pounding in your chest. Before he could ramble another word, you leaned in closer, cupping his face with your hands.

His eyes widen impossibly, and before he’s able to back away from you, you thumb the skin of his cheek carefully and tug him into you, lips colliding messily. You kiss him like you’ve wanted to since the moment he walked into your store, hungrily yet timidly, waiting for him to reciprocate, but San’s in a state of shock. 

He’s stuck in limbo, the selfish part of him wanting to kiss you back so desperately and the decent part of him knowing he’s not at all good for you. He lost his temper too quickly and most of the time, he thought he was better than his coworkers. Chief had told him so himself. He should stop this. 

Yet, when you start pulling away, the selfish part of him screams out in pain, his heart begging and thrashing against his rib cages to listen to himself for once. And so losing all lapse of judgement, he pulls you right back into him. 

You gasp in surprise, happy to know he wants you as much as you want him and shy at his rough hands at your waist. He pulls you towards him more at the impatient realization that you were too far away, growing more unhappy with the distance, and you let him, leaning into his eager touch. 

San’s mouth moves over yours hungrily, his tongue delving deep to taste you. With a whimper, you arch into him, one hand in his hair and the other fisting his shirt. You kiss him back just as desperately, the days of pent-up longing fueling you.

You kiss until you’re both breathless, only breaking apart to frantically yank at each other’s tops. Buttons fly and fabrics tear in your haste to get rid of the material in your way, and soon, you’re his lap again, both of you stripped naked, chests heaving as your eyes lock, darkened with desire. 

San’s eyes flick down your exposed boobs, your nipples hardened, and without hesitation, he takes one into his mouth and grips the other with his hand, swirling his tongue over your sensitive buds. Your fingers wrap around his bicep as he sucks and licks until you’re writhing in his hold. He moves between one boob to another, cupping them together, running his tongue along the valley before suckling each nipple in turn. 

You’re squirming at the feeling, when suddenly he’s slowing down, his hold on your loosening. 

“Why’d you stop?” you all but whine. Following his line of vision, you land on the melting candle. Much of the wax has now dripped onto the base of the holder, collecting in creams pools on your countertop. 

“Nothing, next time,” is all he says, before he’s sucking at your breasts again. 

Next time? You felt yourself physically grow wetter at the thought, wanting selfishly to have more of him, and so, you grow tired of San’s slow movements at your boobs and push at his chest. 

He reluctantly backs away, and in the light of the fireplace, you see his cheeks have grown impossibly red and the blacks of his irises are completely dilated with lust. You push him down until he’s laying flat against your rug and watch the crackling orange and yellow of the fireplace cast shadows across his chiseled abdomen. 

Brazenly, you trace your hands along the lines of his body, starting at his neck. Underneath your fingertips you can feel the quick thumping of his heart. Next, your hands travel to his pecks, slowing them to thumb his nipples. San shudders at the touch, jolting, following the way your own eyes have grown black like his. 

At his nudge, you’re moved further up his body, now sitting squarely on his toned abs. The hardened muscles bring an immeasurable relief to your neglected and embarrassingly wet pussy, and you inadvertently start moving your hips against them. 

Unabashedly, you start riding him, grinding your bare pussy against the defined ridges of his muscles. Your arousal is too apparent, juices coating his stomach, making it glisten in the golden hue of the fireplace. 

San groans at the sight, his cock straining against the material of his pants. He watches you through half-lidded eyes as you chase your orgasm with your head thrown back in pleasure. 

“Sannie,” you whine quietly, prompting him to tighten his core, his grip around your legs pushing you further onto him. You gasp at the change in rigidity, emboldened to grind harder, hips moving in quick circles. Your climax was rapidly building, and your legs had begun to shake. 

“Sannie, I’m gonna cum,” you warn him, feeling your body tense. 

“It’s okay, love,” San says, voice urgent and low. “Cum for me.”

Love. The word, uttered so sweetly from his lips, pushes you over the edge. Your pussy spasms, and you cry his name out over and over again, grinding yourself mercilessly against him as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

Suddenly, watching you come down from your orgasm, San feels parched. The way you smell, the way you feel, it all feels overwhelmingly good. He looks at you with open admiration, drinking in the sight of you lost in rapture. He zeroes in on the mess you’ve left on his stomach. 

When you open your eyes, you spot San’s bottom lip tucked lightly between his teeth. His adam’s apple bobs at your release that’s smeared across his stomach, and his grip on your thighs tightens, wrapping around them, nudging you up towards his mouth. You’ve yet to even fully recover from your previous orgasm, but you find yourself slowly moving upwards, thoughtless.

“Come here,” he begs. “Please, please, come here.” And so you do, carefully moving up his chest and stopping to hover right above his face. “Please,” he begs of you again with a hungry tenderness in his eyes and with that, you sit. 

Immediately, you want to double over in pleasure as San moans against your pussy at the contact while his eyes flutter shut at your weight and taste. But you stay still, fingers coming to tangle themselves in San’s strands of hair while he mumbles incoherent words into you, kissing you reverently, lips soft and warm against your delicate skin. 

It takes a few moments for San to find his rhythm, lost in himself as your scent surrounds him. His hands which were laying flat over your thighs have moved up, knuckles growing white as he roughly grips the flesh of your ass, ensuring that you don’t have any chance to move away from him. 

You gasp at the gentle contact, your body tingling with need. You settle fully on his face and feel his stubble lightly abrading your inner thighs as he opens his mouth, licking a thick stripe into you, deeply humming at your flavor, sending vibrations up your core. He laps at your essence with long, slow strokes, savoring you, worshipping you, alternating between soft and firm licks.

With both hands tangled in his hair, you rock gently against him, guided by his tongue. You whimper and writhe over him, feeling the taut pull of rope threatening to snap inside your stomach. 

As your whines grow louder, San redoubles his efforts, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue and drawing to his mouth to suck then switching to rapidly flicking your swollen bud. His strong hands dig into her hips, holding her steady as he continues to eat you out ravishingly. Of the mumble that was escaping his lips, the one thing you were able to catch loud and clear was a husky repetition of, “Cum for me.”

With a drawn out cry, you do just that, pussy clamping down and pulsing around San’s tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you as he continues to lap at you, gentling his touch as you float down from your high. 

When your shudders finally subside, he lifts you off of him, delicately laying you down on the soft, white fuzz of your rug. Before he can get too far, you pull him down into you, tasting yourself on his lips. 

You felt wrecked with the back to back orgasms, and surely, there was no way you could handle another. Yet, when he pulls away, “Please,” is all you ask of him.

And San obliges with a groan, the head of his thick cock nudging against your slick entrance. With one slow, steady push, he pushes himself inside you, filling you so completely. “You’re so beautiful. Fuck, you feel incredible,” he rasps, beginning to move.

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper as you start to rock your hips against his, but San has other plans, taking hold of the underside of your thigh, pushing them back and effectively folding you in half. There’s sweat collecting on his brow that drips into the valley between your breasts and you brokenly moan at the feeling. 

As you clamp around him, San picks up the pace, driving into you with deep, powerful thrusts. The headboard slams against the wall with the force of his movements, the room filling with the sounds of skin slapping and breathy moans. 

“Louder," he growls. "I want to hear you, love. Please,” he begs of you.

"Fuck!" you cry out, your head thrashing against your rug as the pleasure builds to a crest. You can feel your release approaching rapidly, your pussy clenching around his pistoning cock. The intensity reaches a fever pitch as you rock against each other, skin glistening with sweat in the firelight. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he feels your silken walls fluttering around his aching cock. “Don't stop,” you begs, nails raking down his arms. “Please, Sannie, I'm so close,” you whine.

He reaches down between your bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles around it. “Cum for me, baby,” he commands for the third time that night, his voice rough with desire.

His words are your undoing and with a sharp cry of completion, you shatter beneath him, your pussy gushing around his cock as you spurt your release. He groans deeply, hips jerking as he follows you over the edge, emptying himself inside you with a few final, deep thrusts.

And you’re not sure what it is, but you don’t stop there despite the burn in your thighs. Insatiable, the two of you keep going, until San has to replace the firewood in the dimming fireplace. 

When he finally has to leave, he promises to come back. 

And he does. 

Even after he’d returned to work at the precinct, he began to show up more often—not always with a reason, and not always needing one. 

Sometimes he’d sit by the fire with a book you’d chosen for him, his quiet presence filling the store in a way that felt grounding. Other times, he’d help you organize shelves or tinker with small repairs, his hands steady as yours danced nervously around his.

One snowy afternoon, in the aftermath of another blizzard, the world outside was left blanketed in white. The sun filtered through the windows, its pale light reflecting off the snow and illuminating the bookstore in a way that felt almost magical. San was by the fireplace, his fingers running idly along the spine of a book as he watched you rearrange a display near the counter.

“You’re going to run out of books to organize,” he teased, his voice warm and teasing.

You glanced over your shoulder, laughing softly. “Not with this inventory, trust me. I’ll be at it until I’m eighty.”

San’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Well, I guess I’ll have to stick around to help.”

You paused, the words catching you off guard in the best way. Turning to face him fully, you tilted your head, studying the sincerity in his expression. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, his gaze steady.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the fire cast long shadows across the store, San stood by the counter, tugging his coat on. He looked at you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it, and something in his eyes made your heart swell.

“I think I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, almost shyly, though you both knew it wasn’t a question.

Author's Note II: What did you guys think? Please leave a comment or reblog, it always helps to see what people think, even if it's a keyboard smash or emojis lol. Anyways, thanks again for 700 followers, much love <333

taglist: @chngbnwf , @brown88 , @kyuna-21

[channawrites]

hard to handle | san, m.

summary: san, a cocky boxer with a notorious temper, meets his match in his resilient physiotherapist who refuses to quit despite his antics. he does a good job keeping you at a distance, but during a playful bout, unintentional feelings surface and cause things to get a little physical.

pairing: boxer!choi san x physiotherapist f!reader

genre: boxing!au, pwp, tension, smut

words: 4.2k words

warnings: explicit & messy & unprotected sex, mean!san, cocky dom!san, big cock!san, sub!reader, size kink, pinning/restraining, teasing, clothed grinding, biting, praise, marking, fingering, clit play, orgasm control, edging, handjob, penetrative sex, choking, tears, creampie, almost public sex (?) and voyeurism themes — they’re in a public room with the door unlocked, interruptions.

minors do not interact! | masterlist | more ateez content

“you’re not allowed to quit.”

the words came sharp and sudden, slicing through the air with the same precision san delivered in the ring. you froze mid-stretch, hands stilling over his sore leg. slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, confused by the uncharacteristic weight in his tone.

“…okay,” you replied cautiously, trying to gauge his mood.

san’s brow furrowed deeper, and the irritation etched across his face didn’t waver. “coach kim told me you were planning to leave,” he pressed, voice edged with something almost accusatory.

you blinked, letting his words settle. with how insistent and demanding san was, it wouldn’t have surprised you if that rumor had sprouted legs and started running. after all, you weren’t the first physiotherapist to step into this circus — and judging by the quick turnover before you, most had found the door far more inviting than the job.

but you stayed.

why? it wasn’t some deep-seated need to prove yourself or a traumatic past molding you into a masochist. no, it was simpler than that: the paycheck was solid, and once you learned to see past san’s gruff exterior and insufferable tendencies, he was just… tolerable. like dealing with an overgrown five-year-old throwing tantrums in the body of a professional fighter.

“well, coach is wrong,” you said, shrugging as you resumed your careful movements on his leg. your voice was calm, steady, not betraying the flicker of amusement rising in you at his sudden concern.

but san wasn’t convinced. his dark eyes narrowed as if searching your face for a crack, a lie, a tell.

“he said you’re thinking about it,” he countered, his scowl deepening. “you can’t leave. i need you.”

it wasn’t romantic — far from it. his words came out firm, almost commanding, the way you’d expect from someone used to giving orders. someone used to winning.

still, something about this moment felt different. the commanding façade faltered ever so slightly, and there was a flicker of something raw in his voice. vulnerability, maybe? you weren’t sure. but it was there, buried under the frustration, and you couldn’t ignore it.

what was his deal? what was it about the idea of you leaving that got under his skin?

you paused again, letting your hands rest gently on his leg as you glanced up. his expression hadn’t softened, but you could see the edges weren’t as sharp. your lips twitched, a small smile creeping in despite yourself.

“are you sure coach kim wasn’t just teasing you?” you asked, your tone light as you tried to ease the tension. “you know, considering your, er, personality? because honestly, i haven’t thought about leaving.” even though it’s the saner option, you thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

san huffed, leaning back against the mat, his lips pressed into a thin line. he looked at you for a long moment, his jaw clenching before he finally spoke. “are you calling me a problem?” his voice was low, sharp, and cold enough to send a chill down your spine.

your breath hitched as his piercing gaze locked onto you, unrelenting and unreadable. his tone alone made your stomach twist, but it was the way his leg pulled away from your hands that had you stiffening. the dismissal in his actions was clear — he didn’t want you there.

“i…” you faltered, feeling the weight of his words press against you. “of course not, san. you’re not the problem.”

your voice was soft, careful, an attempt to diffuse the tension. but his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched, signaling that your words did little to soothe his frustration.

“then leave,” he snapped, turning his head to the side, arms crossing over his chest like a fortress. “i don’t need you.”

his dismissal stung more than you’d like to admit, but you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “i’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your tone hushed but steady, a small smile twitching on your lips. “i enjoy working with you too much.”

he scoffed, his lips curling into a mean sneer. “don’t bother lying, princess, you’re terrible at it.”

his words were biting, but the way he leaned slightly closer didn’t go unnoticed. he was testing you, waiting for you to crack under the weight of his intimidation.

“i’m not lying, i wasn’t lying.” you whispered, shaking your head. “just teasing…”

“well, stop it,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave. the air around you grew heavier as he glared at you. “it’s annoying. i don’t like it.”

“i know,” you murmured, your voice almost playful as you reached out, lightly brushing your fingers against his arm. “but that’s exactly why i do it. you’re kind of… cute when you’re like this.”

his eye twitched at your words, and the next thing you knew, he moved. with one swift motion, he shoved you back against the couch, his body towering over yours. his knee pressed into the cushion beside your hip, locking you in place, while his other hand braced against the armrest, boxing you in completely.

the weight of his presence stole the air from your lungs as he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours. the glint in his eyes was sharp, teasing yet dangerous, and his lips curled into a sneer that sent a shiver down your spine.

“cute?” he repeated, his tone mocking as he pinned your wrists above your head. his grip was firm but not enough to hurt, though the dominance in his posture had your heart pounding.

you stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, your cheeks heating under his intense scrutiny. “san…” you started, but your voice faltered.

he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. “do you think you’re immune to being kicked to the curb just because you’ve been here the longest?” he murmured, his voice low and laced with warning.

your lips parted, a soft laugh escaping despite the way your body trembled under his. every part of you that he touched sent sparks flying through your veins, down your spine and between your legs. “you’d never. i’m your favorite,” you whispered, trying to mask your flustered state with a teasing edge, your words holding truth.

his expression hardened, but he didn’t pull away. instead, his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “you wish,” he scoffed, though the slight hitch in his breath betrayed him. that and the subtle twitch of his cock in his shorts that you definitely felt from how you froze.

you weren’t sure whether to feel thrilled or terrified, but one thing was certain: you were treading dangerous waters, and san didn’t look like he was about to let you off easy.

“...this is a very risky, er, position,” you choked out softly, voice slightly strained. your gaze flickered between his narrowed brown eyes, to the door of the break room that you both were in, it’s door unlocked. your thighs rubbed together almost unknowingly and you resisted the urge to squirm. you were trapped.

“mhm.” san hummed dismissively, his gaze not leaving you. every twitch in your expression was noticed by him, especially the growing warmth on your cheeks and ears, that made him smirk. “and?”

“and coach could walk in...” you cleared your throat, mind fogging and something in the pit of your stomach clenching. you couldn’t imagine the look on the old man’s face if he walked in and saw you under the star fighter you were supposed to be healing. “it would be embarrassing.”

san chuckled, and your gaze snapped to his. it was mocking and you shivered — from fear or arousal, you didn’t know. “why? we aren’t doing anything... yet.”

“yet?” your heartbeat was wild, throbbing in your ears. you were sure san could hear it. if he was being so mean, he definitely could and was taking advantage of how meek you were. he knew you could never say no to him, not that you wanted to. “what do you — mmpf!”

the next thing you knew, you felt a tongue slipping past your lips, swirling inside your mouth. your breath was stolen from you, and with his free hand, san grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them to the couch, using his body to keep you in place.

it was a sloppy and dominating kiss. he explored and claimed every part of your mouth without pulling away. his body pressed against yours, and the kiss slowly grew more heated. his hand wandered down your sides, squeezing them softly for a moment before he pulled away from your lips, breaths mingled.

san studied your expression, eyes still narrowed in a cold glare. he smirked at how out of breath and dazed you looked, and pushed his knee between your thighs to part your legs. you were practically shaking and san didn’t even do anything yet.

“stupid.” he mutters out, tone rough and husky. leaning down to your neck, san began sucking on the sweet spot under your jaw that made you squeak.

his body pressed against you, almost uncomfortably, and you were practically trapped underneath him. your wrists were still pinned down, and you were hyperaware of every ridge and pane of his body on top of your curves. his broad chest, beefy arms, strong thighs and hard cock were suffocating you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“you’re so stupid and cute, i could eat you right now.” he rasped, lifting his head to look down at you. his face was inches from your own. san looked obsessed.

you shivered at the unusual glint in his piercing glare, his smirk almost evil and you flushed. “eat me?”

“every last bit.” his voice was rough. a stark contrast to his actions. his hands would rub up and down your sides gently, his face still close.

a low and sensual growl spilled from between his lips as he kissed you again, lips rougher. he brought one of his hands up to thread into the hair at the base of your neck, tilting your head so he could have more access to your lips. his arm wrapped around your waist, tugging your body as close to him as possible.

everything was fine — as fine as san eating your face off could be — until you felt something long and hard press right against your clothed clit. “ngh... san!”

he merely chuckled against your lips, sharp teeth tugging your bottom lip, and then smoothing the sting with his warm tongue. “what?”

“i’m...” you started, but were unable to continue, gasping when you felt his hips grind against yours once more. small sparks shot from your clit to your spine, and you arched softly, voice a pitch higher. your pussy clenched around nothing. “...sensitive.”

“i know.” san groaned in your neck, and you felt his thick fingers of his free hand undo the drawstrings on your uniform scrubs. he silenced any of your gasps with another kiss, slipping his fingers into the front of your pants to push past your panties. you barely had time to register his next actions, until you felt the rough pads of his calloused fingers run over your quivering clit and folds.

your wrists were still held down with one of his hands as you moaned shakily, eyes squeezing shut. you felt san’s long fingers smear your slick all over the folds of your cunt, cursing lowly under his breath.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he exhaled, his fingers circling your swollen clit and making you twitch. the feel of you writhing under him, feeling you squirm and hearing you moan, it only made san want more. he leaned down, his lips on your neck, nipping and sucking as he slipped a digit into your pulsing pussy, feeling your tight walls clench around him. “fuck.”

san gritted his teeth and, his body trembled with restraint.

“san... ah...” you squirmed softly as you felt his fingers pump and prod your spongy walls, gushing wetness the longer he stretched out your cunt. your eyes were glazed, and your arousal was dripping down his knuckles the longer he curled and scissored you open on the couch. “we... we shouldn’t be doing this.”

the sounds of your pretty voice, the feeling of your hips moving against his hand, the soft moans and gasps — san was losing himself in you. he added another finger, feeling the heat of your cunt around his digits, wanting to hear those sweet sounds of yours. “oh?”

“t-the door... it’s unlocked.” it was a miracle you could still think from how deliciously he played your cunt, but your ears were still hyperaware of the faint yells and sounds of sparring from the main gym. you throbbed around his fingers, almost in fear of being caught.

san grunted, reaching as deep as he could with the tips of his fingers before slowly pulling the digits out, and glancing down to see the way his skin glistened with your juices. “doesn’t matter.”

“but...” “but nothing.” san scoffed and sat back on his knees, undoing his shorts and pushing the cloth down along with his boxers so his hard cock sprung out. the veiny length was twitching and leaking precum from the angry red tip, and your flushed gaze was drawn to the sight while you rubbed your sore wrists. he used your slick smeared on his fingers to pump his hard cock, taking in the sight of you panting and sprawled half-naked on the break room sofa, thighs parted and folds glistening. “the only one coming in this room is you.”

your gaze met his smirking one and you tried to scowl softly, propping yourself up on your elbows shakily. “very funny.”

“i’m not done with you, princess.” san crawled back over you, pushing his face in your neck to nip at that spot that made you squirm, shifting between your legs.

you were so tired of him toying with you that you reached out to grasp his cock with your hands, experimentally stroking the hard length. your fingers couldn’t even wrap fully around the girth of his thick shaft, but that didn’t stop you. san let out a choked groan, his teeth gripping the flesh of your neck as you flicked your wrist at an agonizingly slow pace.

it was your first time fisting a cock and your hands were almost shaking. yet you loved the feeling of the large man practically turning into jelly above you from a few strokes. it only motivated you to try and squeeze tighter, pumping up and down, as your flustered gaze met his weak one. san was still trying to keep up his facade, but not for long.

san couldn’t hold back any longer. “that’s enough!” he hissed weakly, smacking your hand away and pulling you to lie back down on the couch, while he positioned the bulbous head of his thick cock at your entrance. “no more playing around.”

san was looking down at you, his eyes dark and focused, his body trembling with restraint that was held by a thread. he was so tightly wound and needed to cum now, before he actually lost it.

“o-okay...” your clit throbbed as he rubbed his cock against your wet folds a few times. your eyes were almost hazy from pleasure, and you pawed at the leather of the couch for stability. suddenly san couldn’t hold back any longer.

he grabbed one of your legs, to rest it over his shoulder, and pushed it up before he leaned over you, his body hovering above yours as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin on your neck. san’s hand gripped one of the small throw pillows for a moment, moving it underneath your hips, and then he slowly started to push his cock forward into your entrance.

as he sunk his thick shaft into your cunt inch by inch, the feeling of you clenching around him, the feeling of your breath catching in your throat, the way your body shook at the slow bottoming out — san’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head.

he grunted through his gritted teeth, his hand leaving the pillow by your hip to reach up and grasp your wrist, to hold it down again. san looked down at your face, his hips rocking slowly at first to get a feel of stretching out your small stretchy cunt, as his words came in short bursts. “god… ah… just like that…”

“san...” your voice was a soft breathless whimper, the sight of him above you making you quiver and clench more. all your dazed eyes could see was a beefy and sweaty san on top of you, jaw clenched and grunting, and you nearly came on the spot. “y-you... you... i hate you.”

he sight of you below him, so docile, flushed and soft, made his chest swell with something, his lips pulling into a slow mocking grin. “yeah?”

san was so desperate, so fucking hard at the thought of claiming you all night, to mark you and keep you under him. you had no idea how much he needed you. how could you, when he’d never said a word?

your cunt was so tight and warm. like nothing he’d ever had, or imagined in his long showers after training, eyes closed and fisting his cock for a quick release while he wished it was your cunt milking him instead. now, having you under him for real felt like a fever dream, and san’s hips had a mind of their own from the way his thrusts started to pick up pace.

“yeah.” your breath hitched softly, already forgetting your previous train of thought from the way san’s hips angled. the tip of his cock continued to repeatedly bully the spongy sensitive spot in you, making you see stars. “you’re so mean to me... all the time... a-and... and...”

you trailed off, eyes squeezing shut softly as you nearly found yourself cumming all over his cock. san was close too, and he just needed a few more thrusts before —

knock, knock.

fuck.

both you and san froze, and for a moment you felt your soul leave your body. whoever it was, could just twist the knob of the unlocked door and see you sprawled under san, with your leg over his shoulder, and his cock buried ten inches deep in your cervix.

“san, sparring practice in ten minutes!” coach kim called out cheerily from behind the door, unaware.

“we’ll be out soon.” san’s voice rumbled, and your wide-eyed gaze snapped to him, clenching almost in fear. san felt the twitch of your walls and glanced down at you, something almost evil lighting up in his eyes. “doc is still busy working on my bad leg, aren’t you doc?”

the color drained from your face when you felt san’s hips resume their thrusts, and you almost fearfully tried to push him away. shaking your head, you tried to stop him and whisper-yell, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to say a word without moaning shakily, so you stayed silent. something neither san, nor coach would let you do.

“is everything okay in there, doc?” coach kim asked, as you squirmed under san, his large palm holding your hip in place under him, and your ankle in place over his shoulder. his thrusts were still quick, aimed to make you and himself cum as soon as possible, whether coach walked in or not.

“answer him.” san’s lips brushed against your ear as he whispered hotly, smug. “you don’t want him to — fuck — come in, would you?”

it was hard to gather the courage to speak without screaming, especially when you opened your mouth, and the asshole above you took that as the exact moment to decide to rub your clit, coughing softly to disguise your noises. “i, uh, — ngh — we’ll be coming! in sometime... just... go on, coach... no need to — stop that! — wait up!”

you blurted between whimpers, trying to swat san’s wandering hands away as he pinched and rubbed all sensitive spots on your body, even dipping down to bite at your clothed nipples. you were still on edge as coach could walk in anytime, but that didn’t bother san. if fact, his hips pistoned into your cervix at a mind-numbing pace, all thoughts blown from your mind.

“you heard the man,” san grunted in your ear. his smooth skin was drenched in sweat, slight red marks left on his shoulders from your nails, and his brows were furrowed in concentration. “we have five minutes to finish.”

you let out a strangled noise when you felt the sudden onslaught of stimulation, his large palms grasping your hips as he fucked you hard. guiding your hips to match his, san made sure his hips were angled to fuck right up into your womb, smirking to himself when he noticed the slight outline of his cock bulging from your stomach. “t-there’s no way... that we can f-finish... in 5 minutes...”

“you wanna bet?” san rasped, forcing his mouth on yours, kissing you deep and slow, his own grunts and sighs barely muffled by his lips. san could feel you tightening around him, hear the breathy, soft pants coming from your lips.

how could he hold himself back when you responded so eagerly?

san pulled his lips away to look down at you, his hand leaving your leg to grasp at your throat, his calloused thumb resting on your jaw, and his grip firm. you looked so good under him like this.

“that’s it, princess,” san groaned, his hips pushing forward, his voice uneven from all the pleasure. he didn’t think he’d last the next 30 seconds, let alone 5 minutes.

but he wouldn’t cum before you. that would almost be insulting, making sure to use his free hand to fondle your swollen clit, bringing you to finish as soon as him.

“san!” you cried out, already feeling your release building. you tried to bite at your knuckles to keep yourself quiet and muffle all the whimpers and gasps that could reach outside the room. your nails dug into his biceps, eyes squeezing shut.

both of you were so close, san’s hips moving more erratically, and your body losing control. your voice was choked and a pitch higher, every noise you made streaming into soft sobs, tears blurring your eyes. you felt too good. “san... i’m gonna...”

san could feel your body trembling, your breathing getting shallower, and when you spoke, it only made him feel closer. he panted, his breath coming out in hot, uneven puffs, his nose rubbing against yours, his hand on your throat tightening.

“go on… squeeze that cunt of yours tight… i’m almost done.”

you didn’t need to be told twice, and when you squeezed so beautifully for him, san lost himself.

he came with a strangled groan, his movements stuttering, his hand squeezing on your throat for a moment. his eyes squeezed shut as white hot pleasure coursed through his veins, his mind blanking out and ears ringing. for a few moments, he thought he saw the pearly white gates of heaven, as he unsteadily pumped ropes after ropes of his hot cum into your pussy.

you could feel your insides being painted white while san grunted curses under his breath, the hot seed almost burning your walls. he made sure to thrust a few more times so his cum filled your insides snugly, fucking it deeper.

your overstimulated whimpers were what bought san back to reality, the ringing in his ears fading as he looked down at you, disheveled and naked waist down, his cock still buried deep in your cunt.

he was momentarily distracted by the sight of your puffy folds wrapped around the base of his cock, a creamy ring of cum around his shaft. he felt himself twitch, just barely suppressing the urge to fold you in a mating press and take you again.

“still hate me?” his voice was slightly strained. san couldn’t find it in himself to pull out yet. his gaze flickered down to your disheveled shirt stretched over your chest, and he couldn’t help but grasp your breast and squeeze. he’d play with them next time.

you were too out of breath to reply or swat his hand away, exhaling shakily as you slowly got down from your high. “i’m still deciding.” you needed a moment, or ten, to get your thoughts in order. “and you didn’t finish in 5 minutes, you took 8.”

“whatever.” san chuckled, nipping your cheek playfully.

he slowly pulled out, his muscles tired. but he wasn’t fast enough. because the next thing you knew, there was a soft click, and the two of you didn’t even have time to freeze, before the break room door swung open.

“san, you little shit, you’re late for — what the fuck!?”

author note: my first smut fic, yay! if this sounds familiar to you, it’s because this plot is heavily inspired by the love of my life, joo jaekyung from the bl manhwa jinx (he’s the best guy around)! please do interact and tell me what you think! also, i made the banner myself so pls show some love if you think it looks nice :3

tag list: @tsukisrants ; @dawn-iscozy ; @vixensss

[channawrites]

Baby Baby

group : ateez

pairing : alpha!san × human mate!reader

genre : smut

wc : 3.4 k

warning : mature, mdni, explicit smut; restraints, cumming untouched, rut, breeding kink (breeding need more like), lactation kink, slight cum play and cum eating, both san and mc are being degenerate pain slut mayhaps ?, unprotected sex, alpha sex, rut sex, knotting, degradation ??, don't read if you don't like or can't stand this genre

a/n : this fic is brought to you by @kitten4sannie GOADING me. I wholeheartedly blame you alyssa. whatever happens after this, blame alyssa

buy me coffee ?

You came rushing to the pack house with your baby tucked in her little blanket, sleeping so soundly like an angel which was an utter contrast to the situation that you were facing. You had been rushing so much that you changed into a flimsy shirt and a long boho-esque skirt. You were barely at the front door and yet you could hear the sound of your husband's screams, filling the silence in the air, and making the whole area seem haunted.

Upon entry, you were greeted by Seonghwa who immediately took your little princess in his arms and Yeosang who welcomed you. "How bad is it?" you asked, taking your coat before handing it over along with your bag to Yeosang. Hongjoong came rounding from the kitchen upon hearing you and from the look on his face, you knew this was a bad one. "(y/n), are you sure you want to handle him?" Hongjoong asked, worriedly looking between you and your sleeping daughter, whose fluffy wolf ears twitched at the sound of the commotion but remained in her slumber. You simply shrugged, "He's my husband, this is nothing I haven't experienced before," you said as you tried to push past Hongjoong to go to the basement. Before you could go past him, he held you back and made you look at him, "This is unlike his previous ruts, (y/n). He's... He's going over the rails and it's triggered by you giving birth," he explained. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, "But I gave birth like a long time ago. For fuck's sake, we're close to Hyemi's first birthday." With arms raised, Hongjoong could only shrug, "All I know is that the doctor told us that this is like an anti-postpartum depression. He's more aggressive, more needy, and frankly his sexual stamina is beyond anything I've ever seen and he was already a nutjob in that department."

Hearing Hongjoong's explanation made your heartbeat increase both from worry but also from... excitement? You knew what San is capable of and you knew the others knew as well. So for Hongjoong to be so concerned, you could only imagine what the extent of San's state is like.

After kissing your daughter on the forehead and allowing Seonghwa to take her over to the hunting cabin so she would be away from all the noise, you marched down to the basement only to see a sight that made you gasp.

Under the moonlight and a single lightbulb near the door, San, your dear husband, was shirtless and his limbs were restrained by metal chains that ran from the corners of one side of the wall. You wanted to ask why he was put in such a state but when you closed the door, you had seen how the small window that allows people to peek in was shattered on the ground and the handle on the door was bent, flattened even. You couldn't explain why that made you wet and you felt like you couldn't fixate on that considering the situation. But the sight of the shambled surrounding was not as surprising as seeing San staring, or glaring, at you, straining against the chains so hard that his veins were popping.

"Honey, I knew that was you. I could smell you from the moment you stepped out of the car," San shuddered, eyes glazing and his fists clenching, "Have you come for me, pretty? You came for your alpha didn't you?" he chuckled darkly. You swallowed nervously but San knew that you were aroused seeing him with his shirtless, glistening chest and very very tight jeans, especially with a VERY distracting protrusion in the dark patch in his crotch. No matter how much you had been with San, the sight of him half naked and so animalistic always made you blush. "Honey, I'm so thirsty," San whimpered and as if it was an automatic trigger, you abandoned your position and rushed to San, cupping his face gently only to gasp at how feverish he felt, "Oh sweetie, you're burning up! I'll go get you some water." You were about to detach away from him but he growled and dropped his head on your shoulder, making you stand still in your spot. "I am thirsty but not for that, my love. I'm thirsty for you."

Slowly, you felt San's head turn and he let out a shaky exhale that made tingles ran down your spine. Your eyes fluttered close when San's tongue joined in to lick your skin around your neck almost strategically pressing into your weak points which made your knees buckled and since San didn't have his freedom, you had to cling onto his body. The proximity made San smirk against your skin because now he was able to grind into your core, allowing you to feel how wet and hard he had become. "F-fuck, Sannie-" "Can you feel that? Can you feel how hard I am? I've been waiting for you mama and I can't take it anymore. Do you know how many times I've cum in my pants? Do you know how many times my cum has been wasted? I could've been breeding you over and over, make you a mommy again because fuck, we did such a great job with the first one," San panted heavily into your ear as he winced from pain and need, "Love, I need to put another baby in you, I want to put a baby in you."

Your mind was in such a hazy state because his body's warmth was luring you in like a faux safety net but the way he was humping your leg with his cock that seemed to be engorged due to both arousal and his heat. "Sannie, baby, y-your cock-" "It's asking for you, mama. It wants you. Please, please, please, let it bury itself inside your sweet sweet cunt and breed it with another pup. It's been so long and it hurts, it hurts so good," His words were like melted butter in your ears, absolutely making you weak and you were sure that your panties were effectively ruined with your slick but also from the way San was rubbing his jeans-clad crotch onto you. You couldn't deny the increasing need- no, want for him. It HAD been some time since you got intimate all thanks to your baby girl. You and he had been so focused on taking care of her and letting your body heal that the most you two have done was letting San suck on your tits while dry-humping you. So you two were stuck in a hard situation. Literally.

In your state of utter oblivion, you somehow managed to refocus yourself enough to look at the way San was straining. He had been whispering pleas and sweet nothings, buttering you up to let him relieve his rut on you, you missed the way he was straining so hard that you swore he was so close to breaking the restraints like they were made of popsicle sticks.

"Poor baby," San's mouth stopped its work on your skin the moment you replied coherently, "You've been waiting for me for so long, haven't you? Settling for minuscule action while I got better, you took such good care of me... Alpha." You had to suppress a moan when you felt San's cock twitch as his hip ground harder into your crotch, accidentally stimulating your clit against the barrier. "Yes, yes, yes, baby, I will take such good care of you. You saw how much of a great husband I could be with our first, imagine me with our second. So please, please let me out of this misery and let me fuck another baby into you."

Cursing, you pushed away from San slightly and took off your shirt before dropping down to kneel in front of his crotch. San watched you with keen eyes as your hands deftly moved to release him from his confines. The moment his cock was freed, you saw it bob before it stood straight up, slapping him right on his stomach, his residual cum smearing and splattering from the impact, some even landed on your cheek but you couldn't care. How could you care when your husband's cock was staring at you almost tauntingly? You swore his cock was larger than you remembered. The tip, a shade of angry red, and his balls seemed full of cum.

"Fuck, alpha, you're going to break me," you breathed.

Though unintentional, your breath hit his stiff cock and before you could react, San came untouched. Spurts of his cum hit you on your face making you gasp in surprise. "Fuck!" San grunted as he rode off his high, allowing his balls to empty out yet again. The amount of cum that San let out was astonishing as it seem almost endless. It made you imagine San shooting that much cum when he finished inside you. Just from the looks of it, you knew that that climax you and San will soon share would be sloppy and messy and you can't wait. Your cunt clenching with anticipation.

"Fuck, baby, why did you have to tease me like that, you slut? You just had to goad your alpha knowing that he's in restraints, huh? You really think you could take advantage of the situation I'm in huh?" San growled, snapping his hips forward so that his cock slapped you in the mouth, smearing his fresh cum around as if to mark and humiliate you. "Sorry alpha, I didn't mean to. I was just so... Amazed with your cock, I just wanna..." You trailed off as your lips slowly enveloped the hard appendage. The moment your wam mouth made contact with San's cock, he immediately almost lost control. Your tongue was caressing his cock all around so good that his hips started moving, grounding itself against your mouth as if it was addicted to you just as much as you were addicted to tasting San again. It was hard, and it wasn't just the stiffness of the cock, but his engorged size trying to stuff itself inside your mouth was almost too much. Your jaw was hurting but the pain was too delicious, you were struggling but you wanted more of it, you wanted it wholly and you wanted it so bad. San's hips made it hard for you to lick the cum clean from his dick but you made do with what you can. "Look at my mate. My pretty, pretty mate, so fucking beautiful and so fucking needy for her alpha," San's tongue darted out to lick his chapped bottom lip and as he did, he could almost taste you in the air, "And look at you being so needy," he chuckled darkly, seeing the way your hips sway back and forth and then around as if to look for friction for your very empty cunt. "Can't wait to fill you up, baby. Can't wait to pound that sweet pussy once again," he moaned.

Hearing him so needy for you, you couldn't help but let out a whimper and immediately scrambled up. "You want to fill me up, alpha? I'll give you what you want," you grabbed the edges of your skirt and hiked it up so you could easily took your panties off and fling it across the room. With his senses heightened, the smell of your free cunt made San's eyes roll to the back of his head and his hips gyrate in your direction. "Come on, come on, come on mama, stop torturing me and let me fuck you so good and so deep, your tummy would bulge out. I'm gonna make sure you'll get good and pregnant"

You couldn't even get properly and wholly naked as you were just that desperate and needy for San. So with one edge of your skirt still hiked, you hooked your left leg around his strong right thigh and your right hand reached under to slip his tip right at your entrance. "I'm ready alpha, I'm ready for you to take me and fill me up," you panted, pressing your forehead against his while you prepared yourself mentally to take his cock inside you. San rolled his hip once and his bulbous tip slipped inside you so easily thanks to your arousal, his residual cum, and your spit, mixing together creating the perfect lubricant. "Oh fuck," you whimpered, your arms circling around San's neck so tightly, catching him in a vice grip, "You're s-so big, t-too big!" you gasped the more it slipped inside you.

San was faring no better. Having gone through the first night of his rut by himself and flooding his mind with the thought and memories of your cunt, he was going through 10 emotions all at once because he finally got to feel the real deal. Being chest-to-chest with San allowed you to feel his heart beating so hard and quick you were afraid that it would break out of his ribcage. However, your worry about him breaking something was misplaced because while you were trying to slowly get yourself ready to take him whole inch by inch, San's patience snapped. His wolf was crying out to breed you and he deemed that he needed more and he needed it right then and there.

"San! Oh my- Fuck!!" You screeched when San bottomed out inside you with one smooth move. Your arms held onto him tighter while his thighs trembled, the pleasure was overwhelming him, almost sending his head to an empty state. "Baby, my love, my mate, thank you for giving your body to me."

You weren't even accustomed to him just yet but he had started fucking you with such fervor that it took everything in you to keep your mental faculties intact and held onto him for dear life. For the life of you, you couldn't even begin to think about how San managed to fuck you even with his limbs restrained but even such thought easily slipped from your mind as all other coherent mental processes were getting fucked out of you. "A-alpha please!" you weren't sure what you were pleading for because while it hurt, the pain was too pleasurable and you truly believed that you would have gone insane had he pulled back. Not that you think he could. When you pulled away slightly, you saw the way San was staring at you with dilated pupils, his eyes even seemingly turned into a shade of gold though you were not so sure due to the dimness of the room and your body being shaken up and down like a shaker. You could feel it, you could feel his cock deep inside you. The movement allowed him to go deeper and deeper, and you were sure that his tip was coaxing your cervix to open ever so slowly as evidenced by the dull probing feeling in your lower belly area. Even the thought of his cock prying you open to accommodate his agenda made your head feel like it was swimming.

Pleasure coursed through your body almost to the maximum extent within minutes but you held on, you wanted to hold on for your husband. "Fuck, I miss this," San growled, chuckling darkly, "How did I manage to not fuck you every night? It was wrong of me to let you experience even one day without being my little cumdump, my fleshlight, my most precious little doll toy." The way he reduced you to nothing but a plaything made your cunt clench, causing San's movement to halt and his breath hitch. "Honey, don't do that, I might cum too soon," he said through gritted teeth. You moaned and dropped your head back, exposing your neck to your husband, "And is that such a bad thing, love? Come on, cum in me, you promised to fill me up so full, right?"

The encouragement effectively pushed San's inner wolf to completely take over because the next thing you know, San ripped the right cup of your bra off, exposing your breast and your perked nipple before latching his mouth on it and he resumed his fucking. Not many words were exchanged between the two of you, all sorts of communication was in the form of moans, groans, and grunts. Especially you, who was up on cloud 9 from both penetrating and sucking stimulation. San was fucking you stupid while his mouth was feasting on your breastmilk. You took a peek down to see white dribbling down San's chin a bit too calmly while his hips never stopped their work on your cunt. The intensity of the pleasure sent you reeling and you could feel you were teetering on the edge of a climax. Your limbs contorted around San even tighter so much so that you were practically floating, two bodies being supported by one and at this moment you were very much glad that San's animalistic side had taken over perhaps completely.

"F-fuck, San! Sannie! Alpha! I-I-" You wanted to tell him that you were cumming but the words were stuck in your throat. San, too preoccupied with the taste of you on his tongue, didn't bother answering but he simply bit down on your breast. The sharp pain caused you to let your control slip and then and there you came undone. Your body shook as you climaxed, your jaw unhinged and you let out a loud cry while your cunt unknowingly let out spurts of clear liquid.

San always loved it when you climaxed because your scent became more powerful and your body writhed about that sent his animalistic side into a frenzy as it paralleled his high when he caught a prey; so pliant, so submissive, so... helpless. Your orgasm served to only goad San even more as he never stopped his movement, never even faltering for a single beat. "Yes, we're so close, baby, so close," San smirked after gulping down your milk. His sharp canine dragged on your sternum in a menacing way that made it even hotter for some reason. You were already so spent and to be frank, the constant friction was becoming almost too much. Your legs were starting to cramp and your arms were slowly going numb. As glad as you were for cumming, knew you couldn't handle another one so soon, especially when you felt his knot forming.

"Alpha, alpha! Cum in me p-please! I- I can't take it anymore!" you whined, gripping him so hard that his back bore the red streaks of your nails that dug into his skin. "Yes, mama, yes. I'll cum in you, I'm cumming in you, fuck! I'm gonna get you nice and pregnant!" San announced loudly before his hips stuttered once more and his mouth latched back onto your breast. Along with his teeth digging into your soft flesh, you felt warm liquid being spurted out directly into your womb, filling you rather quickly and your mind floated back to the amount of cum San had let out not even too long ago. San's cum and knot were filling you up so stupidly good that you didn't even have any more energy to scream so you simply dropped your head onto his shoulder. Your senses were filled with San experiencing his true release after holding back for so long.

San happily sucked more of your milk, ensuring that your breast would be drained and very darkly marked, while he happily let his knot rest inside you.

Although you were still being stimulated, your body was slowly calming down and it was then did your muscles felt the after effect. Soreness started to settle in your joints and parts of your limbs but your husband's warmth was making things up for you, like a very large heating pad.

"Alpha, I'm so full," you croaked, closing your eyes when you felt San also calming down even if it was temporary. "You were so good, my mate. I'm so proud of my little mama being able to take all of that," he praised, letting his lips trail kisses from your chest, up your neck, to your cheeks, and settle to nibble on your earlobe. "But you know that this night had just begun."

Your eyes snapped open when you heard loud clanking sounds and you immediately took notice of the way the chains that were holding San's limbs were so easily broken and in a flash, you were put on the floor with San hovering over you.

"How about we try for twins this time?"

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[channawrites]

By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

"N-No, please! Spare me! I was wrong! I swear I'll never do it again!" The man's voice cracked as he grovelled on the damp ground, tears carving paths through the grime on his face. His trembling hands offered up the tiny diamond he'd been foolish enough to steal—his last-ditch effort to appease the eight figures towering over him like shadows of death.

He'd heard the whispers, the warnings: Never cross the Black Pirates. Never touch what belongs to them. Never even think of betrayal. Yet greed had blinded him. Now, staring into their cold, merciless eyes, he knew his regret was far too late.

The leader of the gang stepped forward, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilted his head, studying the pitiful man like a cat sizing up a doomed mouse. "Didn't I ask you to screen these rats better?" he drawled, casting a sideways glance at the eldest among them before shifting his focus back to their prey. "No time to waste. Finish him."

A low chuckle echoed through the tension-filled night as the gang's usual executioner, a broad-shouldered figure clad in his signature fur coat, stepped forward, his grin as sharp as the blade in his hand.

"Sorry, buddy," he mused, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "This will be the night you take your final breath—by order of the Black fuckin' Pirates."

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Watching the harrowing scene from a distance stood a figure with crossed arms, his voice low as he muttered to his right-hand, "Every man has a weakness. Find the Black Pirates', and we'll knock them off their high horses."

"And if they have none, sir?"

The figure's lips curled into a dark smile. "Then we'll make sure they do."

Pairing(s): gang members!ateez x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Summary: One by one, the Black Pirates uncover their greatest weakness. But when the cracks begin to show, will they stand firm or let their vulnerabilities bring their empire to its knees?

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, murder, language, contains dark themes in general

A/N: Credits to the wonderful @sundaybossanova for giving me the idea of something Peaky Blinders inspired. Thank you so much and ily💖

**Dearest readers, please note that all chapters are interconnected. You're advised to read them in order.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong

‣ The Captain

The Captain of the Black Pirates—respected, feared, and unmatched in strategy—lives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.

Seonghwa

‣ The Gentleman

The Black Pirates' poised diplomat, celebrated for his refined demeanour, sharp wit, and unmatched negotiation skills, is always in control. But his composure falters when he encounters an unwilling captive trapped in the Red Room—a ruthless training ground for spies. Driven by an unexpected urge to save her, he finds his carefully maintained boundaries beginning to unravel.

Yunho

‣ The Enforcer [Coming soon]

The towering enforcer of the Black Pirates, both disarming and deadly—his easy charm capable of winning over enemies, while his legendary fury dominates the battlefield. But his unbreakable facade begins to crack when he meets a psychologist during a mission—someone who can see through his carefully crafted mask, just as he can see through hers. Beneath her confident exterior lies a frightened soul lost in a dark world, and for the first time, he finds himself compelled to protect someone in a way he never expected.

Yeosang

‣ The Phantom [Coming soon]

Mysterious and elusive, the Black Pirates' intelligence expert is known for his sharp instincts and unparalleled skill in espionage and reconnaissance. But when he crosses paths with a woman who surpasses him in both skill and wit for the first time, his confidence begins to waver. As she outsmarts him at every turn, he finds himself unexpectedly drawn to her, eagerly anticipating each challenge—because the thrill of being near her is something he never expected to crave.

San

‣ The Tempest [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' most unpredictable force is a whirlwind of fiery passion and unbridled energy—always the first to leap into action when chaos erupts. But his world tilts when he stumbles upon a woman who, unlike his victims who always begged to live, is on the brink of ending her own life. Upon discovering she's terminally ill, he finds himself gripped by an unfamiliar and urgent desire to save her, igniting a battle within himself unlike anything he's ever faced.

Mingi

‣ The Firestarter [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' wild card is notorious for his fiery temper and even more explosive schemes—a dangerous yet irresistibly charming presence. But his confidence takes a hit when one of his near-disastrous plans is salvaged by an unlikely passerby: a composed and resourceful former aristocrat, exiled and stripped of her wealth, now navigating the world's harsh realities. Her icy demeanour and unshakable poise captivate him, leaving the ever-impulsive man unexpectedly drawn to her.

Wooyoung

‣ The Charmer [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' negotiator and master of distractions is renowned for his confidence and flirtatious charm, which can sway almost anyone. But his ego is severely wounded when he encounters the loyal bodyguard of a high-profile target, someone completely immune to his usual tricks, during a high-stakes mission. Frustrated by his failure yet captivated by her unwavering resolve, he finds himself unable to stay away, drawn to the challenge—and to her—in ways he never expected.

Jongho

‣ The Anchor [Coming soon]

The steadfast foundation of the Black Pirates is renowned for his unfaltering strength and calm under pressure. As the gang's moral compass and protector, he's always put duty above all else. But when a rival gang's attack threatens the life of their kind-hearted hired doctor, he begins to realise that his priorities extend beyond just his brothers. Torn between his loyalty to the gang and his growing feelings for her, he faces an agonising choice: protect his family or save her.

Voila, my loves! As promised, I finally managed to come up with a little something for this comeback teehee. I hope you're as excited about this as I am! Truthfully, I just returned from a 10-day trip in Shanghai and am back to work on Monday already - which means I might not be able to write much until the following weekend but I will do my best to get the parts out ASAP!

Super excited to hear your thoughts on the concept! Do let me know which member's summary enticed you the most!✨ and of course, just leave a comment if you'd like to be tagged for when the parts are released!

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar

@bunny4yungi @zl-world @bethelighthalazia @tsunchani

All Rights Reserved © edenesth

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF THE WORK HERE.

[channawrites]

The Waynes: Chapter 10

Title: The Waynes

Pairing: Mobster!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Attempted SA, unwanted advances, blood, violence. One of the heavier chapters.

Summary: An unwanted guest shows up at the bakery. A turf war begins.

A/N: Had a writing kick. Hope you all like this one. It's the climax of the story.

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added!): @msghostface @khaylin27 @thequeenofbigmacs @escapism-r-us @orighami @neobreakmyback @bubbles-incorrect-yb @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog @attllas @comic-cat83 @mommyneytiri @aerangi @thegreawizards @baebeepeach @slitheringss @xoxoyourdoll @portrait-ninja @sunflowertardis @anime-lover-forever-1127 @wrldwidemind @dopedreamobject @jayroytodd @vanessa-boo @ih4temy5elfs0b4d @solivagantlife @killerwendigo @deimks @writing-over-ashes @officiallyalbino @antiquecultist @teenytinytunes

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10: Lines Drawn in Blood

“It’s been super dead lately.” You said into the phone. “I kinda wish more people came by. I feel bad wasting all these cupcakes.”

Jason chuckled. You were at the bakery, waiting out the last few hours of your shift. Winter had finally hit, so there were less people out and about. The bakery had some delicious items, but not delicious enough for people to trek through 3 feet of snow for. 

“Hopefully no one comes by tonight and you can start your end of shift duties sooner. “I can come pick you up tonight. I’m almost done here.”

You smiled happily. Jason had been working so much lately, you were sad that he hadn’t been able to pick you up for a while. This was the first night in months he was able to meet you after work. “Yes!” You said happily into the phone. “Well that means I should get started on closing duty now. See you in a couple of hours?” You asked happily. 

“See you soon doll. Love you.”

“Love you too Jay.” You said making a kissy noise into the phone. You hung up and began to clean up the shop.

The final few hours dragged on. 

The streets were nearly empty now. There hadn’t been a person in sight for at least 30 minutes. It was a nice kind of quiet. Charles sat in front of the shop, his eyes trained on the empty streets outside. The sun was starting to set behind the buildings, casting long dark shadows onto the street. 

You started your ending shift duties a bit early tonight. You knew you likely wouldn't get any more customers tonight. You glance at Charles, whose eyes were still fixated on the streets. Ever since the situation with Mario at the gala, you noticed Charles was more attentive of your surroundings. Not that anything happened after that. There was some slight tension amongst Jason’s men, but not much more than usual.

As you were cleaning out the last baking sheet, a loud crash from the alleyway made you jump. Charles instantly got to his feet. You made your way back to the front and saw Charles look around the front of the building with caution. He looked back at you, his eyes wary and concerned. “Stay inside, and make sure the door in the back is locked. I’ll be right back.” He said.

You nodded and quickly made your way to the back of the shop. The door in the back was usually locked during opening hours, but you went back to double check anyways. You felt a small sense of relief as you saw the lock was indeed engaged. 

You returned to the front and went back to cleaning up. You made your way towards the rows of bread at the front, ready to put them into a bag to give to the Wayne crew back at the Cave, when the sound of a bell notified you of a figure in the doorway. You were expecting Charles, but it was someone else. Someone you were hoping you would never see at the bakery.

Mario stepped into the bakery. His presence quickly fills the small space. You could feel your heart race as he made his way towards the counter. A smirk quickly painted his face. He looked you up and down like a piece of meat waiting to be slaughtered. You looked towards the front door, hoping Charles would show up any second now.

“Hello, Y/N.” Mario said, a small hint of seduction in his voice. “What a nice place you have here.”

You hesitated, but answered with a steady voice. You knew better than to show him any sign of fear. You kept glancing at the door, praying Charles would be back. You also glanced at your cell phone sitting next to the cash register, which was currently behind where Mario was standing.

“Thank you. But I am afraid we are closing for the night. So I will have to ask you to leave.”

You tried to turn around and made your way towards the rows of bread once more, hoping he would take the hint and leave.You tensed a bit when the sound of the front door closing filled the room.

“Well it's a good thing I'm not here for the food now am I?” Taking a step closer to where you were and reaching out to touch your arm. You pulled away, and looked him dead in the eyes. 

“We are closed. Please leave.” You pushed passed him and made a beeline towards your phone on the counter, but you felt a hand grab your wrist. You had a sudden flashback to the gala. Except this time, you were alone. You looked at the door once more. Where was Charles?

“I told you. I’m not here for the food”, he said, his voice raising a bit in tone. 

A wave of fear overtook you, but you pushed past it. “Let go of me!” You shouted, trying your best to fight his ever tightening grip. 

“You’re a feisty one, I'll give you that. Todd has good taste in women.” He said pulling you closer to him. “Common, one night with me and you’ll forget all about that nasty old Wayne.”

Your eyes started to fill with tears, but you put on your bravest face. “No. Let go!” You shouted.

He quickly let go, and you were relieved for half a second. Until you felt him push you backwards into one of the tables at the front of the shop. You lost your balance and fell, knocking over the table and glass vase that sat at the top.  

The glass shattered upon impact as it fell right alongside the table. You instantly felt a sharp pain run up your arms as you tried to brace your fall with your hands. The broken glass shards quickly cuting into your hands. 

Mario looked down over you, a predatory grin painted on his face. You tried to push yourself up, but the pain from the glass was too intense. “Not so feisty anymore.” Mario said before you felt a hand wrap around your throat. He brought you onto your feet and pushed you against the wall, hand still wrapped around your throat. You tried to pull him off, but that only made the glass go deeper into your hands. 

“It would’ve been more fun if you were awake. But I can still have fun with your body.” His hands began to squeeze, cutting off your air supply.

Tears flowed heavily down your face now. You clawed weakly at his arm, but it was no use. Your vision started to blur as stars filled your vision due to lack of air. You could feel the darkness slowly take over. Just as you were about to lose consciousness, you could hear the door burst open. 

You felt Mario’s grip loosen as you fell to the floor, quickly gasping for air.

The next few minutes went by in a blur. 

You could hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh as Jason’s fists connected with Mario’s jaw. The force of the punch sent him flying into the display case up front, but Jason didn’t stop there. He pounced onto Mario, his fists connecting with his face over and over again in a flurry.

You were in too much shock to realize just what was going on. The stars lessened and your vision started to clear as oxygen reached your lungs once more. You could see from behind, Jason was perched on top of Mario, still throwing punches to the man’s face.

Just as quickly as it all happened, a flash of blue and red entered the party. They quickly made their way towards Jason, trying their best to pull him off of the other man.

“Jason! Stop! You’re killing him.” Dick shouted, grabbing one of Jason’s arms. Jason was much stronger than dick of course, so Tim had to step in on the other side.

“Stop, this isn’t going to solve anything!” Tim shouted. With both their might they managed to pull Jason off of Mario. Jason’s chest heaved, his breath coming in angrily. For a moment, it seemed like he might push past them both, but a small whimper from the side of the room caught his attention. 

He quickly turned and, with two large strides, knelt in front of you. He noticed the blood instantly, and for a moment, he considered turning back to finish what he had started. But the sound of your whimpers erased every trace of anger in his body, replacing it with something entirely new.

The fury in his eyes softened as he gently took your trembling hand. Your eyes were closed, and you recoiled at his touch, unsure of who was reaching out to you. But recognition dawned when a soft voice asked, "Doll, are you okay?"

Slowly, you opened your eyes. You hadn't realized you had backed yourself into the corner of the room, next to the counter. Your entire body was shaking uncontrollably. You had pulled your legs into yourself and tried to do the same with your arms, but the pain in your hands prevented you from moving them. Voices murmured behind Jason, but you paid them no mind.

The ringing in your ears from the overwhelming fear gradually subsided, and your vision cleared slightly. Although the tears filling your eyes blurred parts of the room, you knew one thing for certain: you were safe. Jason hesitantly leaned closer, and you rested your head against his chest. Your whimpers turned into sobs as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your body trembled even harder as the sobs wracked through you, but his presence brought a measure of calm amidst the chaos.

“It’s okay princess. I’m here.” Jason’ whispered into your ear so only you could hear his words. You buried your face into his shoulders as he wrapped his arms underneath your legs and effortlessly picked you up off the floor. You could feel the cold air touch your skin as Jason left the building. He barked a few orders at his men. Two familiar voices behind you did the same. You never took your face out from his shoulder. You didn't want to see what was going on around you.

The cold air soon vanished as you could feel yourself entering a car. The familiar smell of leather and sandalwood in the air. A small heat source quickly heating you back up. Sobs still racked your body as the sudden realization of what just happened continued to pulsate through your body. 

You could feel the vehicle begin the move. Voices were talking over each other. You recoginzed one to be Dick’s, but that was it. You tried your best to just focus on the sound of Jason’s heartbeat. 

“He’s… alive…” You heard.

“Charles… okay…”

“Tim…cleanup… blood… no trace….”

Jason’s grip tightened around you as the men spoke in serious tones. You could feel yourself slowly calming down now that you were surrounded by familiar people. Now that you knew you were safe. 

The car came to a halt as Jason carried you out and in through the doors of the cave. The familiar darkness washing over you both as you entered its halls. Your sobs were light sniffles at this point. You willed yourself to stop, but your body said otherwise. You took your face away from the safety of Jason’s shoulder for just one second.

You had never seen the bar like this before. It seemed busier than ever. Only, most of the people here were not employees or guests as far as you could tell. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the polished wooden tables, where groups of men in sharp, tailored suits huddled together, their faces set with grim determination. The low murmur of tense conversations filled the air, followed by the occasional clink of glasses and the metallic snap of gun holsters being checked. Many of the tables had weapons on them. Pistols, submachine guns, rifles, and more. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought The Cave was a gun shop at this point. Cigarette smoke filled the room, adding a hazy veil to the already charged atmosphere. 

These were no ordinary patrons. Each of them wore a small pin on their suit, the Wayne family crest. These were all Bruce’s men. Each one preparing for the turf war that had just erupted, their eyes cold and calculating, ready for the violence to come. The entire room turned its attention to you and Jason once you made it through the doors.

You didn’t even realize it, but your whole body was still shaking. You felt Jason’s grip tighten around you.

“Where’s Bruce?” Dick asked one of the men.

“In his office. He has all the Lieutenants in there.” The man said before walking quickly away from the three of you.

Jason quickly hurried past the large group of men gathered at the bar. Dick opened the door in the back and Jason stepped through. You had never actually been back here. You usually stayed at the front of the bar. You never really had a reason to come back here.

The hallway led to another set of hallways, until you reached a pair of large black doors. Dick knocked a few times before stepping through. All eyes fell on the three of you once the doors opened. All except Bruce.

Bruce was sitting at his desk, busy looking down at the tablet in front of him. The men quickly brought their attention back to Bruce. Dick broke away from the group, joining the group of men surrounding Bruce.

Out of nowhere, a woman dressed in a black stepped in front of Jason.

“Is she okay?” She asked, looking over at you. You had never seen this woman before, but you quickly recognized her as Selena Kyle. 

Aka, Bruce Wayne's wife.

Selena kept out of the limelight. It was rare she went out to events with Bruce. He invited her to Gala’s but she often declined. She wasn’t one for the rich and snobby. She always stayed behind closed doors and was rarely ever in the tabloids. Some people even believe that her relationship with Bruce was just a hoax. Every once in a while, she would attend one gala with the family. But then she would disappear from the lime light once more.

Her eyes softened as your eyes met. “It’s going to be okay.” She said in a whisper. She then focused her attention onto Jason. “Go jump in the shower and wash the blood off. I’ll take care of her while you’re gone.” Jason nodded as Selena led you two to a door in the back of the room. Jason stepped through first as Selena locked the door behind you. 

The door led to another room. The room resembled a living room. It was just as fancy as Bruce’s office. Black leather couches with gold trim surrounded a beautiful oak table. There wasn’t much in the room. Just a few books here and there and a single wine cart tucked away into the corner. You noticed quickly there were no windows in this room.

Jason gently sat you down on one of the couches. He kneeled in front of you and you looked down at him. You could still feel the adrenaline running through your veins as you noticed all the blood that covered Jason’s face and body. He lifted his hand to cup your cheek.

“She’s hurt. That bastard pushed her into some glass. Can you make sure to check to see if any of her cuts still have fragments before you patch her up?” Jason said, still looking at you, but clearly talking to Selena.

Selena gently places her hand on his shoulder. “Yes. I’ll take it from here. Go wash up kitten.”

Jason sighed in frustration, then you met eyes once more. He stood up, and pressed a kiss onto your head. “I’ll be quick.” He said, addressing both of you before disappearing behind another door.

You looked down at your knees. You had unconsciously curled up around yourself, trying to make yourself smaller. You could hear the sounds of some cabinets being opened. You closed your eyes to keep yourself from crying again.

The room was silent, except for the sounds of some rifling. After what felt like hours, a soft voice made you open your eyes.

“Y/N?” Selena asked gently. You opened your eyes to see her kneeling in front of you. She had a first aid kit sitting on the table behind her. She smiled softly. “I’m going to get the glass your wounds okay? I don’t want you getting an infection.”

You looked down at her and nodded. 

Selena spent the next few minutes gently picking glass out of your cuts. She used a pair of tweezers and dropped each piece into a small bowl. You were surprised at how much glass was present. You didn’t realize the extent of your injuries. You were too out of it to notice just exactly how much you were bleeding. Your eyes started to glaze over as you saw your arms were covered in your own blood. After a few more minutes, Selena finally put down the tweezers and began cleaning your wounds.It stung a little, but your body was numb from the shock so you didn't feel much. None of them were deep enough to require any stitches, but she cleaned each and every one of them before wrapping your hands. The white wraps were a stark contrast from the dark red that stained your arms. The adrenaline was still pumping, so while you didn’t feel much pain right then and there, you knew you would later.

She turned away, grabbing a bottle of painkillers. She took one out of the bottle and handed it to you. You took it, and held it in your hand for a second. Selena came back and handed you a glass of water. You took the pill without hesitation.

Selena looked down sadly at your tiny frame. She remembered the first time she found out the truth of the Wayne Family. It’s a lot to take in at once. She didn’t exactly have a clean past herself, but what the Wayne’s had done made her rap sheet look like a post it note. But she adapted quickly. She didn’t expect you to take it as easily as she did.

At first, you spoke so quietly Selena didn’t hear you through her thoughts. You only caught her attention when she noticed you were watching her. She tilted her head in confusion. “I’m sorry honey, can you say that again?” She asked, gently kneeling down in front of you.

You took a deep breath. “Is he dead?” You asked again, this time slightly louder.

Selena pursed her lips. Her silence spoke volumes. After a few moments of awkward silence, she finally spoke up. “No.” She said curtly. But he should be. That part she kept to herself. 

Just then, the sound of a door opening caught both your attention. Jason stepped through, freshly showered. All the blood was gone. His wet hair stuck to his face. He was wearing a plain white tee and a pair of black slacks.

Selena looked at you one more time, before reaching out to gently squeeze your wrist in reassurance. “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit.” She said getting to her feet. “Bruce will want to move soon, kitten. I’ll buy you some time.” She said, placing a hand on Jason’s bicep, before stepping out the door you both came through.

You were so busy watching Selena walk through the door you didn’t notice Jason take a seat next to you. “You okay?” He asked quietly. 

You turned to look at him. He was half expecting you to walk out the door with Selena after what he just did. Jason looked down at his hands. They were bruised, a few pieces of broken skin here and there from when he connected with that assholes face. The blood was washed off, but nothing could ever wash off what he did in front of you. He was a monster. 

You nodded slowly, and scooted closer to him. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you.

You both stayed like that for a few moments. Not yet ready to discuss the elephant in the room.

Jason wasn’t sure where to begin. He wasn't sure how much you had put together yet. Hell he wasn't even sure if the bastard was dead or not. The only thing he knew for certain was that Charles was okay. He was knocked out by one of Mario’s men. But he would be alright the next day. 

The Falcones would pay for this.

“C-can we go home?” You asked quietly.

Jason was surprised for a moment. Somewhere in his heart he still felt like this was the last straw. How could you stay with him after what he just did in front of you?

“Not yet. They’re fixing up a place for us to stay in the manor. We need to make sure the Falcones aren't already getting ready to raid the penthouse.”

“Okay.” you whispered softly. You curled your legs up, resting them gently on Jason’s lap. He responded by enveloping you in his strong, protective embrace, his other arm wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke volumes. In that moment of silence, surrounded by the echoes of recent turmoil, you both found solace in each other’s presence. The world outside could wait; right now, nothing could break the spell of this perfect, tender moment you shared.

One thought echoed in your mind: When did this dream turn into a nightmare?

[channawrites]

From people you know, to people you don't

 𝝙 Boyfriend!Yunho 𝝙 

∞ Author: bvidzsoo

∞ Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

∞ Warning: cursing, blood, manhandling

∞ Word count: 3.6k

∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, lovers to exes to acquittances!au

∞ Summary: Yunho wasn't the same man you had once known. What he had turned into, you didn't know. But you did know one thing, you'd do anything to keep your daughter safe and away from him.

∞ A/N: Hello...we don't speak of this. I know I'm supposed to be writing my thesis and Love Me Like A Rockstar (and Beyond The Obscure), but my mind had been plagued with short drabbles for all of our boys so...yeah, I'm writing a mafia drabble for all of them, it seems like it:) Yunho is the first one to start off this new mini-series, and the next members will be posted randomly. I'm not starting a taglist for this one, sorry<3 (you'll have to lurk around) Feedback is much appreciated, I hope you enjoy!

 𝝙 Listen to this before or while reading! ^^

∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥  Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥ 

            It hadn’t always been like this. Yunho hadn’t always been like this. Five years ago when we had met, he was a sweetheart. He was attentive and the kindest man I have ever known, so loving and a safe place. He bought me flowers every third day and took us out on dates every Friday, all throughout those two years that we had been together for. But then…somehow the cracks in his character started showing. His smiles became less genuine and his once protective hold became possessive and painful. There was something about his eyes that didn’t hold any warmth anymore, just scary, icy coldness that kept you rooted to your spot, shaking and praying to a God that he wouldn’t pounce on you and do only God knows what to you. He became a predator ready to hunt his prey…even if his prey was me. The woman he had once claimed to love furiously and ardently, an emotion now turned into constant anger and hatred whenever he looked in my direction.

I have never truly understood what I have done wrong, but after a while, I stopped trying to understand. I stopped trying to decipher who Jeong Yunho truly was, and why he was the way he was. I stopped trying to make it work between us when I found out that a fragile life was growing inside of me. I wasn’t ready to become a mother at the fragile age of twenty-four, but I wasn’t capable of letting the baby go no matter how hard I tried to convince myself. Despite our quickly deteriorating relationship, that baby had been conceived with love, and I knew deep down Yunho was a good man, he had just lost his way in life. And I was scared of him and of whatever he was capable of after that fated night.

A storm was raging outside, lightning illuminating the night sky every few minutes, thunder shaking the ground. I had a bad feeling, a really bad one, as I gripped my warm mug tightly in my hands, staring out the window. Yunho was supposed to be home by now, hours ago, actually, but he wasn’t. And he wasn’t answering my calls nor my texts. A tightness seemed to grip at my throat, prohibiting me from drinking any tea furthermore. The crash of the front door made me jump out of my skin, heart racing as I hurried to the hallway, stopping in my tracks at the sight of my boyfriend. Except that he looked nothing like my boyfriend. Dripping wet from head to toe, black hair falling in his cold eyes menacingly, panting through his open mouth, something red tainting his white t-shirt and seemingly dripping down his forearm. The right sleeve of his leather jacket had been sliced open and I could see a red wound peeking through angrily. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to make sense of the situation, hands slightly trembling as Yunho’s eyes slowly drifted upwards, settling on my form. I had planned on telling him tonight that I was pregnant, that we were expecting a baby, but I wasn’t so enthusiastic about it anymore. I was…scared of the man standing in our hallway, in our, once, safe home.

“Yunho,” I whispered, trying to mask the fear in my voice, “what happened to you?”

Yunho said nothing as he kicked his shoes off, my body stiffening as I finally noticed what he held in his left hand. A knife. A knife coated in red. A bloody knife. My heart started racing as Yunho’s eyes never left my form as he advanced towards me, unknowingly backing me against the living room’s closed door, making me gasp. He smelled…like smoke and like iron, like blood. What had he done? Who was this man standing in front of me?

“I had to take care of some business.” My once beloved boyfriend’s voice was deep, eyes dead as he looked me all over the face, his jaw clenching, “Business you fucked up, apparently.”

“M—me?” I stuttered, avoiding eye contact when Yunho’s eyes sharply found mine. He chuckled, but it wasn’t amused, it sounded sarcastic and irritated.

“Yeah, you.” He hissed, closing the gap between our bodies, reflexively making me hold onto my tummy. I was too early on in the pregnancy to show, yet I was already oh so protective of my little fragile baby, “And it’s the last time this happens, understood?”

“I—I don’t understand—” I stilled when Yunho’s large palm caressed my cheek, just a remnant of how he once used to do it, “I don’t understand what I had done.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Yunho chuckled, sneering, “you are too dumb to understand. How about you change workplaces?”

“What?” I muttered confused, flinching when he gripped my jaw tightly, yanking me forward, “Why?”

“I wouldn’t want the police tracing back anything to me, you know?” Yunho mused, the look on his face anything like him. He looked almost crazed, he looked dangerous.

“Did you kill someone?” My voice was barely above a whisper as we stared into each other’s eyes, my heart almost beating out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe as Yunho remained silent, a small smile stretching onto his lips as if I had said something funny. But instead of an answer, he just pressed his damp lips against mine, almost making me jerk away from him. But he held me in a vice like grip and the door behind me stopped me from going anywhere. When I didn’t kiss back, he bit my bottom lip and forced my lips apart, pinning me against the door as his tongue slipped inside my mouth, bringing tears to my eyes.

Yunho wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with anymore. He was someone else, someone that resembled the devil and was capable of anything. And so I had realized I had to save myself and our baby before it was too late for the two of us, before Yunho did something horrible to us.

            And after that night, I ran away without even as much as glancing back, without having any regrets. I was scared that he’d try to find me, but he never reached out. I left a note on the fridge, in the kitchen, saying that I couldn’t do this anymore and that I was breaking up with him, starting anew. I moved towns, somewhere far away from him, to a city that was filled with life and so many people that even if he looked in every nook and cranny he still wouldn’t be able to find us. Hyeri, our little daughter, and I, that is. Who will be turning three years old today. Life had been…quiet ever since I decided that Hyeri and I would do just fine on our own. Except for my mother, nobody knew where I had moved to. I was too scared that our mutual friends would tell Yunho about our whereabouts, therefore I broke contact with everyone from my old life.

Here, in the big city, I was cautious of who I allowed close to myself and to my daughter, but so far I was lucky enough to only meet genuine and lovely people. Hyeri seemed to like it here too, the little girl growing quicker than I could wrap my mind around it. Soon, she’d be going to daycare. Our day was long due to the little birthday party I had thrown for her, only inviting over my mother, my best friend and colleague from work, Hyeri’s two friends she met at the playground a year ago, and well, the landlord of my previous apartment whom I had become friends with soon after moving here. He was a funny and considerate man, always eager to help me out. My mother kept saying he had a harmless crush on me and that I should give him a chance, but I wasn’t ready to date yet, and besides…my mother somehow missed the fact that he was gay and happily in a relationship.

After having tucked Hyeri in and cleaned the house as best as I could once everyone left, I finally had a moment to myself as I went back to the kitchen and opened the highest cabinet I could reach to grab a glass and my favorite brand of wine. I settled at the table and popped the bottle open, pouring myself an acceptable amount of wine, relaxing into the chair as I placed one leg up on it, hooking my arm around it. I closed my eyes and savored the almost sweet taste of the wine, sighing quietly and being thankful that it was finally the weekend. I could forget for two days about the massive workload I had at my job, papers upon papers pilling up on my desk, a constant reminder of how overworked I was while being underpaid. But I suppose that’s just how things seem to work nowadays. I must be thankful that I make enough to provide for myself and my lovely Hyeri, still.

As I let my head fall forward and rest on my knee, a floorboard seemed to creak in the hallway. Did Hyeri have another nightmare? Or was just the house settling? I listened closely, but I haven’t heard Hyeri’s door opening, so it couldn’t have been her. Suddenly, the hairs on my arms stood and my body froze, sensing danger before I could even see it. I shoot up from the chair when I heard the floorboards creak again, and prayed to God that it was just my best friend coming back, having left something here. She had a key, after all, she was allowed to let herself in without announcing that she was coming. However, the tall and sturdy figure standing in my kitchen’s doorway made my heart drop to my stomach, hand clenching tightly around the glass of wine I was still holding onto for comfort.

Jeong Yunho.

But how—I had escaped him. Forever. I ran away, I did everything, I—my thoughts kicked into overdrive as I realized Hyeri was just a few doors down, sleeping in her bed, unassuming of the monster standing inside our home. I had to protect her. I just had to. Yunho could never know, he could take me, he could kill me, but he would never touch my Hyeri.

“Fancy little house,” Yunho’s voice was just as deep as three years ago, perhaps deeper now, as his eyes scouted the place, “looks like the dream house you always told me about.”

I gulped, unable to respond as Yunho pursed his cherry-red lips, stepping further inside the kitchen. Strangely, his shoes were missing and so was his jacket. Blue jeans clung to his long legs, a little baggy, and a grey sweater warmed his torso, some university’s name printed on the front of it, his silver rosary hanging over it. Yunho looked like—the man I had once loved. Like the dream guy I thought I was lucky to score. But I knew who he was, what he hid underneath that sheep mask of his. There was a wolf underneath, a dangerous predator waiting for you to lower your walls, to let him in, to be vulnerable.

“What are you doing here?” I found my voice at last, when his fingers touched the petals of the flowers I had placed in a vase, in the middle of the round table I had in my kitchen. Those were my favorite flowers; the same ones Yunho would always buy for me.

“I was passing through the city,” Yunho explained, smiling a little as he noticed a picture of my mother and I stamped onto the fridge, “thought I could stop by and say hi.”

“No.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as my heart did somersaults against my ribcage, “No, you can’t—you just broke in, Yunho! I’m calling the cops—”

“It’s not called breaking in when you have a key.” I all but blanched as he grabbed some keys out of his pocket and dangled them towards me. My blood froze over, body going numb. How did he have that? Just how?! “And the cops won’t be doing anything, my dear—”

“Don’t call me that,” I all but almost shouted, forgetting for a second that I had a little child in the house, “Don’t—you can’t be here, Yunho. You have to get out, right now.”

The friendliness slipped from his face as his eyes darkened, slowly walking around the table, coming closer. I backed away from him, trying to aim for the door, but before I could make a run for it, his hand had already wrapped around my arm, yanking my body into his. I gasped, his once familiar cologne wafting through my nose as Yunho’s dark eyes focused on my face, the same chocolate color as they used to be. But they were cold again, just like three years ago. He really wasn’t the man I had once loved.

“Oh, Y/N,” He sighed, leaning down and nuzzling his head against my neck, nose pressing into my skin, “I have missed you so much.”

I was shaking, frozen to the spot, trying to come up with an escape plan. I would have to go to the police, I needed help. How did he find me?!

“Get off.” I whispered, hands gripping his arms to the point my nails dug through his sweater, “Yunho, let go of me!”

Yunho groaned, pulling back to grab me by the nape as he lowered his head to be eye-level with me. I glared at him fiercely as I tried to wrestle myself out of his hold, but he grabbed my right arm and flushed it against himself, pinning my arm to his back.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be able to find you?” He sounded amused, yet his expression conveyed annoyance, “Did you think you could hide from me?”

My chest was rising and falling quickly as my glare bore into his eyes, his glare just as menacing as mine, “Did you think you could end things like that between us?”

“Yes.” I hissed, fed up by always feeling so small and scared of him, “I left you. There’s no us anymore and there’ll never be, Yunho. You’re a—criminal! You’re not the man I fell in love with, and I have nothing to do with you anymore.”

“That’s not how a relationship works, my dear, we take that decision together.” Yunho snapped, his perfectly calm mask finally slipping as he seethed, jaw tense and a fire in his eyes, “I am still the same man you fell in love with, I’m just not afraid to show all sides of myself to you anymore, Y/N.”

“You tricked me.”

“I didn’t.”

Silence fell around us as we both breathed through our mouths, breaths mingling as our faces were close to each other. My cheeks were slowly flushing from the adrenaline that was coursing through my bloodstream, ears ringing as I started feeling helpless. I had to get away, I needed to get Hyeri and flee this place.

“You would’ve ran away if you knew who I truly was so early on, Y/N.” Yunho sounded defeated as he averted his eyes to the floor, finally releasing my arm he had pinned to his back, instead cradling my face with both hands as he walked me backwards towards the table. I gasped as the back of my thighs hit the sturdy surface, and I held onto Yunho’s sides, trying not to fall backwards.

“Yet I still ran away, Yunho.” I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat, “You scared me away. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“That’s a wish I can’t grant you, I’m sorry.” He licked his lips as his thumbs started caressing my cheeks, his chocolate brown eyes falling onto my lips. My heart seemed to stutter when he leaned closer, his eyes fluttering almost shut, and when he was mere centimeters away from my lips, he paused. I gulped, heart hammering in my chest as I gripped his wrists, his hold turning painful, “When were you going to tell me?”

It was merely a whisper, but with how close he was to me, I heard it crystal clear. I went rigid, suddenly fearing for my daughter’s and my own life again, “What are you talking about?”

When Yunho’s eyes shifted to the side, where the fridge was, and I followed with my own, I stopped breathing. We were both looking at the drawing made by Hyeri, a little girl standing in the middle, holding two women’s hands. Mine and my mother’s. They stood in front of a house, smiles on their faces and with a sun that was a little too big for the otherwise cute drawing. I have never felt dread up until that moment consume my whole being, and before I could stop myself, my eyes glassed over and I gripping onto the collar of Yunho’s sweater, trying to breathe regularly.

“Yunho, no—please—you can’t—”

“I can’t what?” He looked beyond furious, hands crushing my cheeks as a few tears rolled down the,, “She’s my daughter too.”

“No, please.” I tried not to sob, scared it would wake Hyeri, “You can’t—I—I won’t let you. You can’t hurt her. I won’t let you, Yunho, she’s mine—”

“She’s ours.” Yunho snapped, shaking me in the process, making me whimper as I grabbed onto his face.

“Please, Yunho, just leave—just leave us alone.” I begged him, flinching as he started wiping my tears away, almost with a fascinated look on his face.

“You were never going to tell me, right?” He asked in a whisper, suddenly looking very sad. My heart stilled and I felt bad, but then I had to remind myself that he had killed someone and that he had probably done so many worse things that I didn’t know about, and didn’t want to know about. I never truly knew who Jeong Yunho was, and I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t let him come back in our lives. He would ruin everything again.

“I—”

“Mommy?” Both Yunho and I froze, our eyes going wide before Yunho was letting me go, stepping back, looking shocked as his eyes quickly fell on his daughter. I quickly wiped my cheeks clear of tears and tried not to sniff as I turned to smile at our daughter, forcing myself to mask my distress.

“My love,” I chuckled, walking around the table to get to her, scared that Yunho would try to do something, “you’re awake?”

“Bad dream.” Hyeri whined as she rubbed at her eyes, giggling when I hastily picked her up. My heart was beating even faster than before as I tucked her head against my neck, shielding her view from Yunho, who was unresponsive as he stared at us wide eyed. I didn’t know how he’d react, and I was terrified. The resemblance between Hyeri and Yunho was unmistakable. She was an exact replica of Yunho with her round cheeks, freckles spreading around it, and pouty lips, even her eyes were the same light color as Yunho’s in the sunlight. Her temperament, too, was similar to Yunho’s. My daughter was a constant reminder of who I once used to love, yet I could never hold that against her. She was everything I have ever wished for, my light, my life.

When Yunho went to take a step towards us, I quickly backed away, walking out of the kitchen altogether, seemingly making him freeze. He gulped, eyes searching my face for something, but I was begging him to stay back and leave us alone. His hands balled up into fists at his side and I feared what would come next.

“Who is man?” Hyeri mumbled against my neck, peaking at Yunho with her eyebrows furrowed. Yunho and her shared a long look, and it broke my heart as Hyeri gave me an even more confused look than before, “Is he uncle?”

I could only hope she was too young to understand reality.

“No,” Hearing Yunho’s soft voice made me jump and caught Hyeri’s attention again, “just someone—who loves mommy and you.”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying in front of our daughter and instead forced a smile on my face as Hyeri looked at me wonderingly, “Really?”

“Yes.” I answered her, my own voice sounding unsure and shaky, “Let’s go to sleep while this man leaves, alright?”

“Mommy,” Hyeri mumbled, looking at Yunho again, eyebrows furrowing, “can man tuck me in?”

“What—” I whispered confused, looking at Yeri with furrowed eyebrows, “no, he—”

“Please.” But Yunho’s pleading voice full with regret shut me up quickly as he slowly approached us, very reluctantly reaching his hand out to pet Hyeri’s fluffy hair, “Please.”

And when Yunho’s eyes found mine again, I was alarmed to see the man I had once fallen in love with. Desperate, begging with everything he could, yet reluctant to reach out. Just who was Jeong Yunho?

“Just this once.” I whispered, arms tightening around Hyeri as Yunho’s face lit up, eyes clearing of the tears he was holding back.

“Thank you.” He’s never looked so grateful before, and my eyes widened when he pressed a swift kiss against my lips, making Hyeri giggle in my arms. And before I could interfere, Hyeri was making grabby hands at Yunho, smiling brightly as he carefully took her in his arms, cradling his daughter against his chest like it was his most prized possession. Yunho’s eyes shone like they were the sun and I stood frozen as he walked towards her bedroom, Hyeri muttering things to him that I couldn’t hear.

What was I going to do now?

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[channawrites]

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

[channawrites]

Worn-Out Soles [1] | b.c

pairing: Chan x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au warnings: kidnapping, injury, death word count: 10.1k notes: — this is a retelling of the 12 dancing princesses :) inspiration taken from the original fairy tale, the Barbie movie, and the retelling by Jessica Day George, Princess of the Midnight Ball. — mc in this story has multiple sisters as befitting the original fairy tale, but they are not blood-related for inclusivity reasons. In a world where magic lies in the arts, you are a princess of Terpsichani, the kingdom whose power comes from dance. Loved by many, you care for your country deeply, though in truth your heart only belongs to the palace's royal cobbler, Chan, who holds equal affection for you in return. It's a love that could never be, you both know, though it doesn't stop you from pining. But then you go missing on the final night of your kingdom's Moonlight Festival, leaving behind nothing but the memories of a final dance. When your sister brings news of your disappearance to Chan's doorstep, there's only one thing he can do. Follow you into the depths of hell to bring you back—or die trying. Part 1 >> Part 2

To Spin a Yarn | Stray Kids Masterlist

When the soft rap of your lady in waiting sounds at the door, you barely look up before calling her in. Out of the corner of your eye, Chaeyoung curtsies in the doorway. “Your Highness.”

You continue scribbling at the papers strewn around your desk. “Yes?”

“The royal cobbler has arrived.”

The pen in your hand stops midair.

Slowly, slowly, so as to keep the smile twitching on your lips from taking up your entire face, you raise your head to see Chaeyoung standing in the doorway. “Have my sisters been informed?”

Her eyes glint with mischief and the knowledge that you haven’t managed to fool her at all. “Of course.”

“Well.” You stand up, placing the pen carefully down. Steadfastly ignoring Chaeyoung’s grin, you step around the desk. “I suppose we will all just have to go and meet him, then.”

. . . . .

Yuna’s sharp squeal hits Chan’s ears even before he steps foot into the pavilion, which is all the warning he needs before five princesses accost him at the entrance, bouncing on their toes. “Chan!”

“Hello, Your Highnesses,” he laughs, maneuvering his heavy box around them. “What makes you so excited today?”

“Did you bring our shoes?” Ryujin asks eagerly. 

Chan frowns, but not before letting them see the glint in his eye. “Was I supposed to bring shoes, now?”

Amidst the chorus of whines from the youngest and giggles from the older girls, one voice joins the fray. “Well, my sisters would be dearly disappointed if you hadn’t.”

Chan’s heart skips a beat in his chest as he turns around to meet your smile. You stand in the pavilion’s entrance from where he just came, the flower-wreathed arch framing your image perfectly under the sun shining bright in the sky. 

A sharp elbow jabs him from behind. “Say something,” Jisung hisses. “You’re staring.”

Chan can feel his ears going red. “Would you be disappointed too, Your Highness?” he asks, making a mental note to flick his apprentice’s forehead later. 

“I believe I would.” You step forward with that warm smile still on your face, and for not the first time in his life, Chan wonders what good he must have done in a past life to deserve standing in your presence like this, a sunflower forever basking under the light of your grin. “You know we all look forward to your shoes, Chan.”

Chaeyoung, your lady in waiting, mutters something under her breath. Chan doesn’t quite hear it, but from the giggles of your sisters and the glare you flash at her, it can’t have been anything good. 

Chan’s ears must be flaming by now. Putting down the box, he musters his most natural smile. “Well, good thing I won’t have to disappoint any of you,” he says, undoing the latch. “Come closer, Your Highnesses—I hope you are pleased with these.”

Oohs and aahs and squeals of excitement slowly begin to fill the pavilion as Chan and his apprentices begin to hand out the shoes. It’s with no small pride that he takes in the cries of delight from each of the princesses—with each pair made of the finest quality material, hand stitched and sewed with sparkling thread in intricate designs, there is a reason Chan trusts very few people to help with his handiwork. He grins as the five young princesses begin to spin around the pavilion, joyous grace evident in every one of their movements…

You step forward shyly, and Chan snaps back to earth. “Anything for me?” you ask. 

“Are you kidding?” Jisung snorts before Chan has the chance to respond. “He spent days on yours!”

“By all the stars—I spend days on all of them,” Chan hisses, praying his hair covers his ears. 

“You don’t usually spend two entire weeks trying to get each design right, though.”

Chan stares at his second freckled apprentice, who only stares back with an innocent expression. Jisung he can understand being a pain in the neck, but Felix?

Your shy laugh sounds like bells. “Am I that demanding a customer?”

“Oh—oh, stars, no.” Chan swallows hard, ducking into the box for the last pair of shoes. “I just—” he holds out the box and tries not to react when your fingers brush his as you take it, eyes focused intently on his face—“I just wanted to make them… right.”

Right? Right? Seriously, that was the only word you could come up with?

You start to untie the box, completely oblivious to Chan’s inner imminent mental breakdown. Slowly, too slowly, you lift the shoes from their cushioned spot inside, Chaeyoung taking the box from your hands. For a moment, you don’t react. 

Chan starts to lose it. 

You don’t like them. You hate them. The design isn’t what you wanted, there are flaws in the fabric, something is terribly wrong with the shoes despite all the time he spent on them—he’s messed it up this time like he always feared, seriouslymessed up—

Your eyes meet his once more, sparkling brighter than the sun and the stars. “I—Chan.” You step forward, holding the shoes to your heart. “Chan, they’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

Chan’s knees nearly give out right then and there. Thank all the stars.

“You’re—I—” You look down at the shoes and back at him, as though you’ve lost your own words. Chan’s heart soars with the shine in your expression. “You do this every time,” you say, almost laughing. “Words can’t describe how much talent you possess, how hard you must have worked for this. These are truly…a work of art.”

He swallows down the overwhelming smile itching to reveal itself on his face, forces it into something smaller, more manageable, and infinitely less manic than it would have been. “I’m glad you like them, Your Highness.”

“Chan! Chan!” Ryujin and Chaeryeong come running up, Yeji following behind with a half annoyed, half apologetic glance that she flashes at you. Chan watches as you turn to them, smiling first at Yeji with something in your eyes that immediately wipes the worry and annoyance from your sister’s face, then at the younger girls clamoring for your attention. “Play us music, please! Like you did before!”

You shoot an apologetic look at him. “Girls, don’t demand things from Chan,” you admonish before turning back. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. It would be my honor.” He smiles at the young princesses. “Give me a moment to tune, yes?”

The two of them cheer before skipping away, Yeji corralling them towards the center of the pavilion. You look at him, expression soft. “You really don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” Chan says, pulling out his small flute. “But I enjoy it, and I have some time before my next appointment.” You still don’t look convinced, so he speaks again. “Truly, Your Highness. Your sisters are adorable. I like playing my flute, and I like watching you all dance. It’s a pleasure.”

Finally, you relent. “All right then, Chan. Although—” You stop for a moment, then seem to set your jaw with determination. “May I ask, will you be at the festival?”

Chan blinks. The Moonlight Festival, only the most important festival of the year, the festival that sees the most foreign royalty and dignitaries traveling to your kingdom to partake in the celebrations? “…Yes, I suppose I will.”

“Right.” Your lips curl in light embarrassment. “I…if you happen to be by the palace that night…” 

Behind you, Chaeyoung looks extremely amused. So do Jisung and Felix. 

That does not bode well for either Chan or you. 

“I know the chances are not large, but if we see each other…” You swallow hard, but your eyes don’t stray from his even as your younger sisters run up to try and drag your attention away. “Only if you can, since I’m sure you’ll be quite in demand, please save a dance for me.”

Ryujin and Chaeryeong pull you off, then, eagerly shouting for you to put on your shoes and spin with them in a dance. And as Chan watches you laugh with them, beginning to whirl across the pavilion with graceful steps as light as air, joy spilling from your fingertips into the flowers and grasses and leaves…

All he can think of is his answer, which is of course. 

. . . . .

“…Your Highness?”

You jerk up with a start. Immediately you tear your eyes from the magnificent pair of shoes sitting by your doorway, but it's too late. When you turn your head, Chaeyoung’s face is staring right into yours.

“Stars, Chaeyoung!” You jump again. “What are you doing?”

“I should be asking you that, Your Highness.” She pulls back, one eyebrow raised in an arch. “You’ve been zoned out for the past five minutes.”

It’s the shoes. It’s the damn shoes. You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. Why must Chan’s handiwork distract you so much? Can’t he make them a little less ogle-worthy, less intricate and delicate and graceful and just—a type of beautiful that words can’t describe—

“Are you sure it’s just the shoes you like?” Chaeyoung asks, the other eyebrow rising to join the first. You don’t even need to lift your face to see the smirk on her lips, you can hear it just fine. “Or perhaps the cobbler who made them?”

“Stop it,” you mutter, dragging yourself up once more. You can’t resist the urge to let your gaze wander over the shoes again, though, imagining the care and devotion that must have gone into every stitch, every design. It almost pains you to think about dancing in them, dirtying the silk and ruining Chan’s handiwork as you wear them out. 

Chan. You just manage to catch yourself before you sigh. His face dances before you in your memories, his bashful smile, his dark hair that always seems to be ruffled by the wind, his sweet eyes crinkling as he laughs. He’s lovely—beautiful—and you can’t fight the heat crawling up your cheeks whenever his strong, calloused fingers brush yours every time he hands you his latest masterpiece. 

He’s beautiful, to be sure. Handsome in the most attractive way to you. But far more attractive is the love he brings to everything and everyone he touches, as though every person he meets couldn’t help but fall in love with his soft kindness, his quiet joy, his gentle earnestness that comes with everything he does. You see it in every delicate golden stitch on the white satin slippers he made you for the upcoming festival. You see it in every seam he sews on all of the other slippers he’s made for your sisters. You feel it in every scant touch you share, see it in his eyes whenever you manage to meet his gaze. 

Stars above, all you can think of is the dance you might share with him on the final night of the festival. If you see him, and if he sees you. 

With a sigh, you finally look back at your lady in waiting, apologies already on your lips. “I’m sorry, Chaeyoung. I must seem a mess.”

“You kind of do.” Chaeyoung’s blunt tone lifts the corners of your lips. “But it’s the festival. The preparations always drive everyone mad. And combined with your little star-crossed romance—” she easily dodges the swipe of your hand, giggling all the way—“I’m sure you’re very overwhelmed.”

The word stop finds its way onto your tongue once more, but you don’t let it fall because it would be useless. And besides, Chaeyoung’s right—you are overwhelmed. You love the Moonlight Festival, really you do, but being one of those in charge of organizing the largest event of the kingdom every year makes you want to scream to the heavens sometimes. 

Maybe you should try that. It sounds like it would relieve some stress.

“Well.” You look down at the piece of paper you were scribbling on before Chan’s craft distracted you (as well as thoughts of his dark hair and smiling eyes as he handed you the shoes). “At least the guest list is finalized. I think.”

“Oh?” Chaeyoung cocks her head. “Who’s coming?”

“An assortment of foreign royals—Joshua and his entourage will be here, thank the stars—and some of the ambassadors whom we sent overseas will return for the occasion.” You flip through a few more sheets. “Of course we also had to account for all the nobility who will be staying at or near the palace during the week.”

“Are Jun and Jeongyeon coming back?”

A real smile spreads across your face at the mention of two of your best friends. “Yes, they are,” you say. “With Minghao and Sana.”

Chaeyoung grins. “It will be wonderful to see them.”

“Surely it will.” You heave yourself up from behind the desk, clutching the sheaf of papers in hand. “Come with me to drop these off with my father?”

. . .

The king’s quarters are in the wing completely opposite from yours and your sisters’. You have no actual idea why this is the case, but you like to joke deprecatingly to Chaeyoung (when no one else is around) that it’s because he has no intention of seeing any of you more than he must. Which is a fair assumption, in your opinion. He doesn’t even show up to dinner these days, just takes his meal with his advisors or foreign dignitaries alone. Unless he decides he also needs you. 

The guards part ways upon your entrance into the west wing, bowing respectfully as you pass. You give them a brief nod before stopping in front of your father’s door, knocking twice on the wood. 

“Who is it?”

“Y/N.”

“Come in.”

Any trace of your previous smiles falls away as you step into the cold room. Your father hardly looks up from his desk even as you approach. “What is it?”

“I have the finalized guest list, as well as the other preparation details you asked for today.” You place the papers in front of him. “That is all. Please let me know if there are any issues.”

All you get is a hum in response. 

Only years of having dealt with this behavior keep you from doing much more than press your lips into a thin, thin line. “I will be off, then.”

You’re opening the door when he speaks again. “Y/N.”

There’s enough time to exchange one bemused glance with Chaeyoung before you turn around. “Yes, Father?”

He’s actually looking at you this time. In his eyes swims some sort of emotion—if you didn’t know better you’d say it was something like regret or worry, but why would he feel anything like that?—as he scrutinizes your face. His throat bobs as though he swallowed something. As though he has something he wants to say, but can’t. Or won’t. 

“Father?”

All the emotion falls off his face as soon as the word hits the air. “Don’t forget that you will take dinner with me tonight,” he says, eyes dropping back to the papers on his desk. “The convoy from Ourania will have arrived by then.”

You frown. Since when have you ever forgotten an appointment and needed him to remind you? There was no reason for him to have said that, none at all. In fact, you almost feel offended, but then you look at him again.

A bobbing throat. A surreptitious swallow. 

Maybe he did really have something to say, but decided against it at the last minute. 

Whatever. You shake off the lingering discomfort. If what he wanted to say was truly important, he would have spoken. Your king may be an absent father, but he doesn’t generally shirk his duties. “Yes, Father,” you say, then shut the door behind you. 

. . . . .

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s moping, Lix.” 

“Well, he should stop.”

“I am not moping,” Chan says loudly as he dumps scraps of leather into a pile in the far back of the shop.

A beat of silence follows. Then Jisung snorts. “That’s exactly what someone who’s moping would say.”

“Or, it could be that I’m not moping, and you’re misunderstanding things completely.” Chan turns to his two apprentices, both staring owl-eyed at him and his probably very red ears. “Did neither of you hear me ask if one of you could go out and get something for us to start dinner?”

Jisung’s shit-eating grin turns sheepish. “I forgot.”

Chan tries to hide an exasperated smile with a sigh. “It’s fine, just go now.”

Without missing a beat, Jisung grabs Felix, and with a shouted farewell, the two of them go crashing out the door. 

Chan returns to cleaning the mess in his workshop, putting away tools, tossing leather scraps into the scrap bag as they emerge from corners he didn’t even know existed. He is not moping. If anything, he’s—daydreaming. Of something. Moping implies that he is upset. He is anything but. 

“If we see each other…please save a dance for me.”

He snorts a little. As if the answer would be anything but yes. Which you probably know, because over the years he’s learned that despite his attempts to hide his affections he is still extremely obvious. And if Jisung and Felix are to be believed—which, unfortunately, they often are, because even if they’re loud and obnoxious and love to tease him at any point in time, they’re very observant and usually right—

You hold a similar affection for him, too. 

The knowledge doesn’t do much, though. Because for all Chan loves you and prays that his love is returned, it wouldn’t matter if it was. In fact, it might even be for the worse. You are a princess and he is but a cobbler, a commoner without magic, which means he could never be yours. If this were one-sided, at least you might still have a chance at happiness elsewhere. But if you truly do love him back…

Chan swallows down a wave of guilt. It’s not his fault, he knows logically. He doesn’t control your feelings any more than he controls his. But in moments like this, he wishes more than anything that things could be different. That he might have magic, that he might have been born a noble, that he might have even the tiniest of chances with you. 

Hm. Maybe he is moping. Chan sighs. He should stop. He should focus on something better—namely the fact that he might finally have the chance to dance with you in just a couple of weeks. A smile begins to lift his lips at the thought as he exits the workroom to wait for his apprentices to return.

As if on cue, the door opens with a loud bang. Two pairs of feet tramp indoors, and then there’s the sound of something thumping onto the table. 

It’s suspiciously quiet. Especially for his loudmouth apprentices.

Someone shushes the other. Probably Jisung hushing Felix. Silence ensues. 

“…Is he still moping?”

“Obviously, Lix.”

Chan sighs. 

. . . . .

The week before the festival brings with it flowers, paintings, gifts from envoys from countries near and far, foreign royalty settling into the palace with their entourage or sending ambassadors if, for some terrible reason, they can’t make it this year. Two days before the full moon, you’re pretty sure you haven’t sat down in over twelve hours—you ate your lunch standing in a corner of the kitchen, and only because Yeji dragged you there under threat of knocking you out for several hours so you could take a break. 

Beloved sister, even if not by blood. Also a royal (literally) pain in your behind sometimes. But a needed one.

The palace bustles with controlled chaos, servants in your country’s colors and those of so many foreign lands mingling in the halls as they scurry from room to room carrying linens and luggage and trays of food. They’ve nearly crashed into you more than once, but who can fault them for trying to do their job? It’s all you’re trying to do, too. 

(“Chaeyoung, tell me something that will get me through this,” you ask on the third day of this mess, head in your hands as you squat on the floor.

“Well, Your Highness, on the final night of the festival I believe your beloved cobbler may save you a dance.”

She dodges the swipe of your hand with a cackle, but despite what you would have your lady in waiting believe, her words do lift the burden on your heart and make it a little easier to smile.)

Finally, the week before the full moon arrives. You stand with your father in the throne room, looking out into a sea of seated royalty all gazing back, solemn excitement dancing in their eyes.

This is what you’ve been waiting for. What you’ve been planning this festival for—the celebration of the full moon, yes, but also the hum of excitement in this room, what your very country is so known for. Pride swells in your chest and you stand taller on the dais, smoothing the folds of your ceremonial robes—glowing white, accented with curves of darkness for the still not quite full moon. As each day passes, the darkness will fade from your clothes until you and most of the other festivalgoers are clothed only in white, to honor the moon and the night.

Your father finishes his little speech to a smattering of applause through the room. He turns to you and nods curtly. 

Dipping your head in reply, you step to the center of the stage, bowing to the audience. “As my father, king of our land and holder of our magic, just said, I first welcome you to our kingdom once more.” Another polite round of applause. Smiling, you begin to relax, letting your mouth move in the words of welcome you’ve practiced so many times that you could say them in your sleep. 

That is, until the throne room door opens with an ominous creak, cutting you off mid-sentence. 

Confusion rustles through the crowd as people turn their heads to see who dared interrupt such a time-honored tradition. You yourself let your words fade from your lips, eyes narrowing towards the door in time to catch a glimpse of bright, fiery red.

The emblem takes you a moment to place at first. It looks familiar but not in the same way of so many other royal insignias, in the way that you’ve seen it emblazoned on the clothing and jewelry of real, breathing, living people. You have only ever seen this emblem, fire curling around a spiked rose dripping blood, in textbooks. Because this emblem belongs to a kingdom only ever described to you as having risen from the depths of hell itself. Born of death and flames and blood, nothing the pure magic of your land would ever dare to touch—

“His Majesty, the king of Kereseia.” 

Your butler bows low, but even from here you can see that he’s trembling. Your eyebrows furrow further—you have questions, many of which will no doubt be directed at him later when this is over and you have a chance to try and figure out just what in the world is happening—but then—

The king himself steps through the doors, flanked by an armored entourage.

Red and black drape his body, gold hung in chains around his shoulders and chest. A crown of blackest metal rests on his forehead, studded with glowing rubies and amethysts, and a matching necklace hangs around his neck. He’s handsome—ridiculously handsome, as though he were carved from stone by the finest sculptors the land of Apollon had to offer—but the haughty curve of his lips sends walls thrusting up around your heart, hardening your mind to his beauty. 

He stalks up through the center aisle, coming to a stop level with the first row of seats. His boots click together on the hard floor, a sound that echoes through the now-silent hall. 

One dangerously curved eyebrow raises, and a vision comes to you of a curved blade sparkling under the moon, arcing down in a silver flash before it buries itself in someone’s flesh. 

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” That haughty smile plays cruelly on his lips, sending a shudder up your spine. “I trust you know why I am here.”

Your eyes turn to your father. Outwardly, he doesn’t look as though anything has gone amiss. His fingers, however, clench the arms of his throne with such force they’ve turned almost as pale as the marble itself. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

“No? Then perhaps I must jog your memory.” The smile disappears, revealing eyes cold as ice despite the fire burning within them. Those sitting the nearest to the king flinch. You gulp, despite yourself. “I believe I was promised an invitation to your famed festival.”

Your father’s jaw twitches. 

“Imagine my surprise as these past months came and went, with not a word from Your Majesty’s hand.” The prince’s theatrical sigh echoes throughout the room. “I thought it only fair, then, that I come to receive an explanation of this misunderstanding.” He tilts his head, revealing a jawline as sharp as the imaginary blade still curving in your mind. “One does know, of course, that a promise made to a Kereseian will never be broken.”

You look straight at your father, the king, who sits wordless on his throne. Why isn’t he saying anything? 

Are these claims true? you demand through your eyes. Why did you make the promise? Why didn’t you honor it?

What in the world is going on?

Silence stretches in the throne room, echoing off the stone walls and floors. With every second that passes, your fingers clench more tightly in your skirts, itching to say something, anything to rectify this mess even as your heart pounds in fear, but words won’t come to your lips because your mind is still spinning as it tries to understand the prince’s words and the implications they have on your family—

Your father’s voice cuts through the silence. “I am well aware of this.”

Your own eyes widen in shock as gasps fill the room, but he continues. “There must have been a mistake when the invitations were sent.”

The second dangerous eyebrow rises, fire burning sinister in dark eyes. “A mistake.”

For a moment, you really think that fire might come to life and burn this entire room to the ground. 

Your father’s eyes don’t waver. “Yes.”

Everyone’s eyes are riveted on the two men, one high on the throne, one standing tall below. Neither of them looks like they will give in anytime soon. 

Which means you might all be dead in a matter of minutes, if what you’ve read of Kereseia is true.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Your heart nearly pounds out of your chest as the eyes of the hall come to rest on you, including those of your father and the bloodred king. Surprisingly, your voice doesn’t shake. “Allow me to clarify one thing. It is true, then, that the king had been promised a place in our celebration, and that therefore he should be allowed to participate in our festivities tomorrow.”

The entire hall seems to hold its breath as they await your father’s reply. You’re not sure whether you want him to say yes or no.

“Yes.”

Gods and stars above. 

You swallow hard amidst the gasps and whispers, turning back to the king. “Then I must apologize, Your Majesty,” you say as steadily as your thudding heart will allow—anger or fear, which is it? Perhaps some of both. “I was in charge of the festival’s guest list and many of its preparations, and yet I was never made aware of this…promise. I can only suppose that as your family has not…graced ours with your presence in many years, the knowledge of this promise was perhaps misplaced or miscommunicated. For that, I do apologize, and take full responsibility.”

The Kereseian king holds your gaze for one, two, three long seconds. You swallow hard, refusing to look away, but you can feel yourself trembling all over. 

Then that deadly, knife-blade smile begins to curve his lips once more, and you have the sudden feeling that you have just made a very, very grave mistake. 

“…No,” he finally says slowly, eyes traveling over every inch of your face. “No, you would not have been made aware.” 

Even though there is still a healthy distance between you two, the oil in his voice, the deadly beauty of his face, the lascivious sweep of his gaze makes you want to take a step back. As though instead of just looking at you with his own eyes, he’d…licked you, or something, instead. 

And beyond that—what does he mean? That you wouldn’t have been made aware? Of course you didn’t realize he was coming—your kingdom has never invited his, as far as you know—and your father never said anything, but his words imply that someone knew and should have told you but that he knew they never would—

A bobbing throat. A surreptitious swallow. 

You picture your father behind his desk, that moment of strange emotion you saw in the thin press of his lips to each other. Something he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, perhaps. But something he never did. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at your father. His king’s crown stands high and haughty on his head, his hands placed on the golden armrests of his throne, but the skin of his face has drawn tight around his skull, fingers gripping his seat with undue force. You recall the readiness with which he gave his assent to the prince’s demands, the slightest shake in his voice that only a few of you could have heard. As though he knew the prince’s words had been spoken true. 

What deal did he make with the kingdom of hell that could have resulted in this?

“Accommodations for you and your entourage will be prepared as soon as possible, Your Majesty.” You try for a smile. “Until then, please feel free to partake in the evening’s activities. I’m sure you will find something to make your journey worthwhile.”

The prince’s handsome smile curls white, sharp. Like a curved dagger’s blade held up to the light, right before it plunges into your eye. 

“Yes.” He seems to lean in closer, that knife-blade grin never once faltering from his lips. “I’m sure that I will.”

. . . . .

Year after year, the Moonlight Festival has never failed to bring joy to Chan’s life. When he was young and his parents were alive, they always took him to the night markets, bought him all the sweets their money could spare, and danced with him in the crowded streets, their three giggles echoing off the laughs of everyone else around them. The royal family has never spared expense on these annual celebrations, meant to honor the entity from which Terpsichore, the kingdom’s patron deity, draws her power. All of the most famous dancers in the kingdom swear up and down that they dance better under the full moon, and as Chan laughs and spins from one person to another, joining hands with a woman and her husband before whirling off to yet another joyous stranger, he agrees. The nearly-full moon above glows pale and bright in the dark night sky, lending energy to all those who celebrate on the earth below. 

Yet this year, the celebrations are dampened. By no fault of the royal family, of course—even if Chan didn’t know you were the one behind almost all of the planning for this festival, he could say beyond a doubt that this year’s festivities were fantastic, maybe even more dramatic than last year’s. But whispers permeate the dancing, rumors of a kingdom long cut off that has come to Terpsichani for the first time in decades, maybe even centuries. 

Kereseia. 

Chan doesn’t like to speak ill of anyone, but his parents told him tales of the Kereseians as a child to scare him into behaving. All children are told the same stories, of fire curling around thorny roses and a kingdom eager to kill.

And now they aren’t just stories. The kingdom is actually here, in Chan’s homeland of Terpsichani, allegedly by invitation of the current king. 

They haven’t made an appearance in his area, not yet at least. Chan doesn’t expect that they will. He more or less expects them to be like some of the haughtier royalty from other kingdoms, rarely straying from the immediate vicinity of the palace—and for that he is thankful. He’s not sure he wants to come face to face with any member of that entourage.  

Though anxiety twists his stomach every time he thinks of you near them, being forced to entertain them throughout this weeklong stay. 

It’s not as though he could do much about it, though. He’s just a cobbler in love with a princess, and no matter how he may fancy himself an acquaintance of your family, a friend if he’s being generous, his shoemaking privileges extend about as far as conversation with you. Which is privilege enough. He won’t be greedy. But thinking about you in that palace, being forced to speak with the Kereseian king himself…

Maybe the Kereseians are nicer than he gives them credit for. Chan doesn’t know. But though he hopes that’s true, something tells him that it's probably not. 

Whispers still seem to permeate the excitement of the crowds as Chan fights his way to the palace on the final night of the celebrations, though nothing can fully mute his eagerness when he finally muscles his way as close as he can get to the stage. An enclosed area meant for nobility and visiting royalty blocks his full view of the stage, but no matter. The moon will be full tonight, shining from above to illuminate the loveliest spectacle of the entire festival—the Terpsichorean dance. 

Named for the goddess of dance, Terpsichore herself, it is the ultimate homage to the moon. Chan knows the dance itself varies by region, but all serve the same purpose and bring the same honor. And of course, in the capital city itself, who would perform the dance but the daughters of the royal family themselves?

Chan just manages to keep himself from blushing. He watched you dance last year and the two years before wearing white and gold slippers he’d crafted himself, and it had only made him fall even more in love with you. Perhaps it’s shallow, but Chan finds it hard to believe anyone in the crowd could feel anything else if they’d seen you spinning about so gracefully in your white robes edged with gold, a dancing ray of the moon herself. 

More and more people crowd in as the sun sets further, until the front of the palace is packed with spectators and the sun only just peeks over the horizon. For all the teasing he had to endure from his apprentices when he left early, Chan feels endlessly grateful that he was able to secure a spot near the stage. 

Familiar melodies begin to filter in from the musicians around the stage. The crowd begins to settle, eager whispers turning into cheers as the introduction begins for your piece. By the time the musicians have finished, the crowd is cheering and the sun has finally set, the full, pale moon beginning to hover in the sky. 

The music pauses. Changes. Everyone falls silent and Chan finds himself holding his breath as he waits for what he knows will come next—

Your lovely figure draped head to toe in white silk edged in gold that just catches the moonlight, a ray of the moon sent specially to bless the kingdom now. 

Chan’s breath lodges in his throat. His chest aches. You’re always lovely, always so lovely, but as you begin to dance, he wonders if the word lovely even begins to capture the mystery, the beauty of your existence. No, not a single word could. But that is what his kingdom’s art is for—dance. A way to express what words cannot. 

Just as your performance does now. 

It’s no ordinary dance, the way you flit through the air. No. Throughout the kingdom there are those blessed by the goddess herself with magical abilities that come with dancing talent—painting memories through the air through a well-placed movement, calling on rain or sun to bathe the earth. Chan himself has no magic though he loves to dance, but his mother was blessed with the ability to recreate memories through her movement. 

But those of the noble and royal lines may be blessed with a different ability, one that marks their special honor by the goddess Terpischore herself. They can weave emotion as they dance.

Just as you do now. 

The crowd gasps, sighs, cries as one as you whirl across the stage, painting sorrow, joy, hope—all emotions Terpsichore felt through her journey to godhood, to patronage of this kingdom, to her ultimate tie to the moon. For all Chan watches, almost refusing to blink for fear of missing a single moment, he knows he could never hope to describe the sight before him, for words could never capture the beauty of your movement. 

The song ends. You flutter your way to the front of the stage amidst cheers and shouts for an encore, and you bow once, twice, five more times before the crowd quiets enough for you to disappear behind the stage, leaving everyone to disperse under the rising moon.

Chan allows himself to be swept away with the crowd, filtering into the streets as musicians take up their instruments and begin filling the roads with cheer. He tries to stay by the palace, though, remembering your request.

“I know the chances are not large, but if we see each other…please save a dance for me.”

Ordinarily, he would never presume to take a dance from your hand. But you requested. 

And never would he even think of saying no. 

The minutes tick past, though, the moon rising steadily in the sky, bathing the streets in cool, lovely light. Chan laughs, dances, even catches a glimpse of his apprentices as they spin through the crowds shouting things he can’t hear, but though he keeps a hopeful eye out, not once does he see you until—

Someone taps his shoulder, and he spins around to see a very familiar face. 

“Your—” Just in time, he sees the finger you have on your lips and cuts himself off before revealing your location to everyone in his vicinity. 

“Sorry,” you say, smiling sheepishly. “I snuck away, I don’t want to be found out so quickly.”

You’ve changed out of the filmy white robes you danced in. You still wear white, just like the rest of the crowd, but your clothes are certainly sturdier and more serviceable than your dance garments were. Even then, though, your beauty still shines beneath the moon, and Chan has to remind himself to breathe. 

“You were beautiful,” he says, all in a rush. Then he blushes. “I mean—you’re always beautiful.” His blush deepens as you giggle behind a hand. “But your performance…it was beyond words.”

“Thank you, Chan,” you reply sincerely, eyes shining. “I’m glad you were there to see it.”

“How did you feel about it?” he asks. “Were you happy?”

You nod immediately. “I think it was probably the best I’ve ever danced in my life,” you laugh, pulling him clear of someone whirling past. “I was nervous, for certain. But I love this piece, and I’ve practiced it so much. I’m very happy with how I did.”

Chan’s heart seems to burst under the brightness of your smile. “I’m incredibly happy you feel that way, Your Highness.”

“Well, I must thank you for it, too.” You hike up your skirts slightly, waggling a very familiar pair of slippers at him—white satin embroidered with gold accents, every stitch done by his own fingers. “Your shoes are incredibly comfortable, Chan. And so beautiful. I say this all the time, but I almost feel bad dancing in them, they’re such works of art.”

“Well, that is what they are made for.” Your smile gives Chan the courage to continue. “And I will always be happy to make you more, whenever you’ve worn a pair out.”

You look truly moved, your smile growing softer, shyer under the pale light of the moon. Chan himself can feel the redness of his cheeks creeping up his ears. You reach out and take his hands. “Thank you, Chan. I hope this does not come across as…too much, but you are very precious to me.” Your voice takes on a serious note that wasn’t there before, but your eyes shine brighter. “Not just your shoes. You are a wonderful person, and I am happy to have known you, even for the brief duration of our lives.”

Chan’s heart thuds in his chest, his ears echoing with your words. “You—you are very precious to me too, Your Highness,” he gets out, voice trembling. “I will forever be endlessly grateful that we have met.”

For a moment, you only stand, staring into each other’s eyes. Chan forces himself to breathe, to take in the moment—he will never be as close to you again as he is now. 

“I do recall asking that you save me a dance,” you finally say, eyes sparkling. Chan’s heart leaps as you continue. “Do you have the time to indulge me, just this once?”

“Of course,” he breathes, squeezing your hand lightly. “Your Highness.”

He doesn’t say the words that ached to come after, though.

For you—I have all the time in the world. 

. . . . .

In the end, you’re not sure how long you dance with Chan. It started as one dance, but even when the crowd separated the two of you, sending you off to other partners as the crowd laughed and cheered and spun, you always came back together, over and over again, like…

Like it was meant to be. 

A sudden ache races through your heart, and in response, you hold Chan tighter. Not enough to hurt, hopefully not enough for him to even notice. Because as right as this feels, as right as you know this is, so many others would tell you in a heartbeat that this is not your place—would even go so far as to physically pull the two of you apart, if they could. 

You love Chan. Have known it for a long time, actually, ever since the day you watched him place Yuna’s first pair of slippers on her feet with the softest smile on his face and every confusing feeling you’d been trying to figure out hit you with the force of a thousand suns. It’s been years since then and the love you have for him has never lessened, only grown. 

And, you’re almost sure, it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe that Chan loves you too. 

Which makes it all the worse. Because if this was one-sided, at least you could comfort yourself with the cold knowledge that you’d be the only one suffering in this love that no one would accept. But if Chan loves you too, then what is this, this something-but-nothing that the two of you have now? Something that won’t just hurt you, but will also hurt him. The best thing you could do would be to end things cleanly on your end, and pray Chan will move on. 

Only you can’t. Selfishness, you suppose. The knowledge of how it feels to have Chan’s arms wrapped around you like this only makes it harder—safe, warm, peaceful, even in this chaos of dancers under the full moon. Even this simple frame for partner dancing, closer than you’ve ever dreamed but still leaving some distance that closes every so often as he pulls you out of reach of another laughing couple, is enough to make you feel lightheaded. You’re in too deep. You couldn’t try to drag yourself out of this if you tried. 

This is the closest you’ve ever been to Chan, wrapped in each other’s arms as you spin about the roads in front of the palace, cheeks warm with sweat and laughter. Perhaps only your oldest sisters and Chaeyoung know how much courage it took for you to ask him for a dance, how nervous you were for this one little tryst to work out—but it was worth it. Because this is likely the closest you’ll ever be. The closest you’ll ever allow yourself to be. 

You’ll never tell him how you feel, after all. Even if you know, and he knows, and everyone knows. Because even though it’s meant to be, it isn’t. And that hurts. 

Chan seems to be oblivious to your thoughts as the music begins winding to a close, which you’re forever grateful for as you smile at him. His dark curls stick to his forehead with sweat. His eyes shine almost brighter than the moon itself. 

Dancing stars, you love him. You love this gentle man who holds you with so much care, who looks at you like you hung the full moon in the sky. You love him so much. 

“Your Highness?” 

You blink at Chan, whose expression has turned worried. Damn. You let yourself slip. “Are you tired?” he asks, already guiding you to the edge of the fray, away from the brunt of the music and noise. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time. You must need to return soon.”

“No, I—it’s all right.” You try to cheer up, but reviving your fallen smile proves harder than you thought it would. Fumbling for an excuse that isn’t I was thinking about our hopeless love story and made myself upset, you say, “It’s…a lot of things. With the festival.”

Chan’s eyes narrow slightly. “Was it…”

Your heart drops in your chest, and suddenly all the previous lightheartedness of the night has gone, replaced by a curtain of dread. “Kereseia,” you finish quietly. 

A short silence punctuates the air between you two. In the whirl of your performance, the final day of celebration, and the ecstasy of dancing in Chan’s arms for the first time in your life, you’d forgotten about the problems that sprouted in your life, fully formed, just a week ago. 

The hand holding yours tightens its grip. You welcome the added pressure, squeezing harder as you try to ground yourself against the anxiety beginning to seep back into your chest. “So it’s true,” Chan says lowly, his eyes turning dark. “They’re here.”

You nod slightly. It’s not surprising that he’s heard something already. Rumors spread quickly, and it would only take one whisper about a kingdom as notorious as Kereseia to spark a wildfire. Really, you wish that was it. That it was just a strange delegation from a kingdom never before seen, come to demand that you include them in your celebrations once more. 

But the king. He…

“Your Highness!” 

Your eyes snap open. You hadn’t realized you even closed them. Chan is gripping your arms now, almost like he’s holding you upright, and you realize you must have been falling, and he caught you. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying to breathe. After the first gasp, breath comes more easily. “I just—this week has been—I love the festival, and I love planning it, but—”

Against your will, unwanted memories of the past week come flashing into your mind. The first time you spoke with the Kereseian king, when he interrupted the opening ceremony for nobility with his grand entrance. Those many times—too many to be coincidence—when you ran into him in the hallways and he begged so graciously for a moment of your time, only for you to feel dirty all over after he spoke to you, his eyes wandering over your figure all the while. When you were trying to speak with your sister and he suddenly appeared, somehow snatched you away, and by the time you realized he was holding your wrist it already felt like snakes had been wiggling up your arm. 

“He’s terrible,” you whisper. 

Chan sucks in a breath and immediately you regret speaking. “Who?” he asks, voice quiet. Dangerous, maybe. “The Kereseian king?”

Well, there’s no denying it now. Even if you tried, he would know, anyway. “Yes,” you reply miserably.

Chan’s eyes, worried and concerned, despite their hardness. Nothing like the sickly sweet, oily looks the Kereseian king had for you every time you spoke. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Yet. You pray Chan didn’t hear the word you left out, though something tells you he did. “It’s just—the circumstances surrounding their visit. My father won’t tell me anything.” Not for lack of trying, too. You stormed into his office the minute you had time, seething with embarrassment at having to take responsibility for the whole mess of “missing” the invites for the Kereseian delegation, and beyond his trite apology for not telling you earlier, you couldn’t get a word out of him beyond it will be cleared up soon and don’t anger them.

You’ve seen him four times since then. Each time, though you tried, he wouldn’t tell you a thing. 

“It’s nothing, Chan,” you say again, as though repeating it will make it true. You attempt a smile. “Really. The festival will soon be over, and this Kereseian business will…go away.” Hopefully. Chan doesn’t look convinced, so you curve your lips wider even though you know this smile is far from reaching your eyes. You try for a joke. “At least, it won’t be my problem to deal with. It’ll be my father’s.”

Chan looks at you closely, and in that moment, you want nothing more than to sink into his arms and cry and tell him everything. Instead, though, you bolster that smile, and though by the end you’re sure Chan hasn’t been convinced of anything, he doesn’t continue to pry. “All right,” he says, worry still on his face, but the concern melting into a small smile instead. “But in any case, it’s late. Maybe—”

“Maybe, Your Highness, it’s time for you to return.”

. . .

For a moment, you think that this is just a bad dream. That you’ll pinch yourself and wake up, and when you do you’ll be back in bed. Safe. Away from the voice. 

But you slowly turn around, coming face to face with the Kereseian king himself. 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

“Your Highness.” He tilts his head in what looks like an attempt at respect, the little smirk that makes your skin crawl never leaving his handsome face. “Your family is looking for you.”

“Your Majesty.” You take a small step in front of Chan, who seems to be frozen to the spot, and give  a slight curtsy. “My sisters knew where I was. Did they send you?”

There’s no way they did.

“Not exactly.” His smile widens. “I heard your father ask where you were, and volunteered my services to find you.”

Behind you, Chan shifts. You raise a foot beneath your skirts and step slightly on his toes. He’s smart. He’ll understand that that means please don’t get involved. 

“Who’s this?” The king peers past you and you actually feel your throat close up. Not Chan, not Chan, not Chan! “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I don’t believe we have either,” Chan replies, voice polite but cold. You’ve heard that tone before. It usually comes out when one of the more aloof nobles doesn’t plan to give him the time of day or the proper respect due to a human being. “Your Majesty…?”

For all the situation, Chan’s blatantly fake confusion almost makes you want to laugh. “Chan, allow me to introduce His Majesty, the king of Kereseia.” You realize then that you don’t know the king’s name and that almost makes you laugh for real, especially as Chan dips into a stiff bow that looks anything but natural. “Your Majesty, my good friend, Chan.”

“Your good friend,” the king repeats, slowly, like he’s testing out those words on his tongue. You can almost feel Chan stiffen next to you, and you pray you won’t have to step on his foot again to keep him from trying to interject. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Chan. I do have a duty to escort Her Highness back to her family, however, so I fear we must part.”

“Do not worry,” you reply quickly, as smoothly as you can before Chan can retort. “I was going to return soon, anyway. Please, Chan, have fun at the festival.” Your smile turns real, if only for a moment, as you meet his gaze. “It’s the final night. You should enjoy it.”

Chan’s eyes flicker to the side, where you know the Kereseian king stands. “So should you.”

“And I did, thanks to you.” You take his hand, squeeze it for a minute—far longer than you should, with the king’s gaze boring into your shoulder, but you ignore it until you have to let Chan go. “I will be all right,” you add in a whisper that hopefully only he can hear. “Really.”

He doesn’t look happy. His lips press together almost into a line, his eyes dark and serious like you’ve never seen before. But he must sense it when you want this to end, so he only nods, curves his lips slightly, and bows. “In that case, have a good night, Your Highness.” When he rises, his smile is wider. “I had a wonderful time.” With that, Chan disappears into the crowd, leaving you with a man you don’t trust at all. 

Without another word, you turn back towards the palace and begin walking. If it’s a little quicker than your usual pace, you try not to let that on.

Unfortunately, the king keeps up. “I didn’t know that princesses of Terpsichani were allowed dalliances outside of nobility.”

You laugh a little, trying not to let the edge in your voice sound. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, you’ve only been here a week. There is a lot of you don’t know about us.” Annoyance creeps into your tone, despite your efforts to keep it out. “And Chan isn’t a dalliance.”

“Well, he seems quite taken with you.”

Anger fizzles in your chest, threatening to spill into your words. “We’re friends,” is all you say.

“Good, then.”

Frowning, you turn toward him. “Good?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” The king’s eyes seem to glow under the moonlight, pulsing pools of shadow. You almost fear drowning in them. “Do you know why I have come here, to your kingdom?”

Nothing about this feels right. “I was under the impression it was for the Moonlight Festival, Your Majesty.” You turn to continue on to the palace, but his cold hand catches your wrist. Pulls you back. 

“So your father really told you nothing,” he murmurs, almost as though to himself. Before you can digest that, though, he continues. “It was for the festival, Your Highness. Partially. But that was not the promise your father gave me, you know.” His lips curve and you can only think of the cruel blade of a knife, silver under the moonlight before it sinks into your flesh. “He promised me you.”

He promised me you. 

“…What?”

“He promised your mother, first.” The king laughs as though you aren’t reeling, about to fall if not for his wrist still grasping yours. “And to my father, not to me. But the poor woman was so sickly after your birth, and ill. My father wouldn’t want a weak woman to bear his own child.” He peers into your eyes and you can do nothing to pull away. “This my father said, and so yours bargained a second time. One of his daughters for my father’s son.” White teeth glint as he grins. “Me.”

Disgust roils in your stomach and gives you the courage to speak. “But why?” you cry out. “Why would my father make such a bargain in the first place?”

“Don’t you know how much trouble your father and mother had, conceiving you?” He smirks. “I suppose, at some point, your father had to take matters into his own hands. And my own father wasn’t going to say no to a princess with magic as strong as yours.”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up. In a horrible way, it makes sense—you know your mother had trouble with your birth and had always wanted more children even after you were born, which is why she adopted your sisters before she died—but this can’t be true. It can’t be. “I don’t believe you,” you snap, ripping your arm out of his. “I don’t believe you!”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you believe me.” Suddenly he has both of your wrists clamped between his fingers, his skin seeping cold into yours. “I will have you, a darling queen to dance with me and entertain my court day and night, and you will have my child. And with your blood, that child will be able to walk in the sun, as so many of us Kereseians cannot.” 

Vaguely, you realize you’ve never seen one of the Kereseian delegation under daylight—always in a room with no windows during the day, or milling about at night. You didn’t know they couldn’t walk in the sunlight. 

You’re learning so much tonight, and none of it is good. 

“So we can do this one of two ways.” His face is so close to yours, so handsome but so cold and so repulsive when his breath hits your skin. “You can come willingly, and we will announce our engagement tonight to your father. It will be wonderful news to crown the final night of the Moonlight Festival, will it not? Our marriage two weeks from now on the new moon, as befits Kereseian royalty.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips. Engagement. As if—as if you would ever—

“Over my dead body,” you snap. 

The king isn’t even fazed. “I thought you might say that,” he says with flippant ease, though if you didn’t know better you’d think you heard a ripple of a snarl in his tone. “But think wisely, Your Highness. Your father signed a contract with our kingdom of hell. We did not coerce him. He came to us. We delivered on our end, and now he must deliver on his.” He laughs. “Will you try to resist fate?”

Despair claws its way into your heart, ripping open your throat as you try to think. Try to speak. Your head is spinning and everything is wrong—your father, who you trusted, your mother, who is dead—

Against your will you wish you had never told Chan to leave. That he was still here with you. That you could draw from his strength in this moment where you feel so powerless. But he shouldn’t be caught in this, though. You’d never want him injured. Never want him hurt. 

Not in the way you’re sure the Kereseian king could manage.

His memory lends you courage, though. Fate. This is no fate—it will not be your fate. You will not go willingly into the kingdom of hell, and you will not sign your life quietly away to this monster who dares claim you so.

“Over. My. Dead. Body.”

The king’s eyes darken. “Very well, then,” he says, and just for a second his grip loosens. You try to snatch the moment to break free but then it tightens and you gasp against the pain as he brings you even closer. “I should make this clear now, though, Your Highness.”

Flames whirl up from the ground. Heat flares at your skin. And then you’re falling, falling, falling into the earth and the blistering wind is tearing your body apart piece by piece and there’s a horrible noise in your ears that you have a terrible suspicion is your own scream—

Your feet slam into a hard floor. You nearly buckle where you stand, knees shaking, only held up by the painful grip the king still has on your hands. Everything around you is dark, lit up by strange, curling flames, and it is cold. So cold.

He smiles down at you now. Knife blades. Weapons to kill you as his mouth comes closer to whisper in your ear. 

“You don’t have a choice."

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

[channawrites]

there is nothing going on in my brain except i occasionally think about inumaki’s cute mouth tattoos o(>ω<)o

things were always slower in the summertime. it was like the curses decided to take a vacation themselves and attacks around tokyo became less frequent. this of course gave you and your fellow tokyo tech students time to laze around campus doing nothing, except for the occasional training session with gojo.

today everyone agreed that it was far too hot for any sort of exercise. even maki had packed away her many weapons and retreated into her dorm so she could sit in front of a fan. you and toge on the other hand took refuge underneath a tree in the shade on the school grounds.

inumaki’s head rests on your lap as you two look up at the puffy white clouds. for a while you’re just mindlessly running your fingers through his silver locks but then it occurs to you. looking down you cringe when you see the large collar that usually covers your boyfriend’s mouth is zipped up tight.

“aren’t you hot?” you ask, tilting your head to the side when inumaki’s attention reverts back to you. his eyebrow is raised in slight confusion before you clarify. “do you want me to unzip it? i really don’t mind”.

finally understanding what you’re referring to, inumaki nods. you’re quick to reach down and undo the collar for him, hopefully giving him some relief. as soon as the tattoos around his mouth are revealed you feel yourself get a little flustered. it’s rare that you see toge this way but you always have to admire his looks.

for a moment you hesitate but eventually you can’t help but trace your fingers along the lines of his cursed markings. there was something about his tattoos that never failed to leave you mesmerized.

“you’re so pretty inumaki” you coo, earning an immediate blush from the boy below you. giggling, you lean down and kiss him just on the side of his lips. suddenly feeling ticklish, inumaki matches your laughter.

once you both relax again, inumaki’s mouth parts and you assume you’re going to hear usual gibberish. maybe a “tuna tuna” or “mustard leaf” but instead you’re met with a “kiss me again”. well, as you probably know, you have no choice but to obey. not that you’re complaining.

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tags: @curlyhairedblueeyedangel / @thingsforimagination / @zeldafreak688 / @natasha-danvers / @simonsbluee / @ravenmoore14 / @rabeccablake / @czarinera / @threeandthirteen / @tvwhoresblog / @leighbechilling / @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t / @curiouslilbeast / @styxiasstuff / @crapimahuman / @sageandberries-png / @ggclarissa / @chesirekittycat / @laudthingcat / @mammonsbootycall / @duhsies / @mangoessassafras / @issamomma / @fangirlsarah16 / @poe30 / @barrysimpparker / @kpopiskpopyunho

[channawrites]

crush

pov. you have a crush on your brother’s best friend

request. Hi! Congrats on 2.4k!!🤩 For the event, may I request an au where reader is Yuuta’s sister? Can be gn/fem reader anything is fine. And they fall in love with Toge? Fluff fluff fluff please

notes. awww i love this request, i have a fat crush on toge so i enjoyed writing this! i made this a modern high school au, by the way!

You stare disappointedly at the black wrappings of your bento, sighing because your brother took the wrong one again. Waving goodbye to your friend, you made your way to your brother’s classroom, knocking on the door to get his attention. However, it isn’t your brother who’d stopped laughing mid-conversation. Instead, it’s a familiar-looking platinum haired guy, his purple eyes glimmering with mischief as he slapped your brother’s arm.

“Yo, Yuta, I think someone’s looking for you,” you heard him say.

Meanwhile, you just stood there blankly, your throat growing dry because he was cute – like actually handsome boy-next-door cute.

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[channawrites]

total opposites

You and Toge swap bodies after encountering a fairytale curse, and similar to its origin, it also takes a fairytale method to break it.

REQUEST. body swap au + best friends to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight crack fic, some cursing, implications of nsfw but nothing explicit, just Toge being a not-so closet pervert, usual best friend bickering, reader is fem bodied, unedited story (I should stop saying this, everyone knows I don’t edit my stuff)

NOTES. I enjoyed writing this, tysm for the request anon, this was really cute! definitely this is shooting up in one of my fav works ever (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

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[channawrites]

Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3

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