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subskz · 2 years ago

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ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 01

note: this is part 1 of a series (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, strangers to friends to lovers, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, a bit of pining, kissing, slight suggestiveness but sfw (eventually nsfw)

summary: after the past three years you’ve had, whether or not you make it through the fourth all comes down to a single thread. fortunately, you find that thread, with chan on the other end. now, it’s just a matter of who needs it more—you, or him.

word count: 15.7k

By the time the spring semester of your senior year rolled around, you were coming apart at the seams.

It was subtle, not something anyone else would notice—you wouldn’t let them. Angling and maneuvering yourself so that it could never be visible to others was a skill that came all too naturally.

Still, you knew it wasn’t a question of if those seams would ever come completely loose, it was a question of when.

The past three years had been a near-constant fight to keep yourself afloat, with each one lining up to present a brand new, life-altering event tailored just for you. Two of which seemed like the end of the world, and one that truly was.

A heartbreak of your own volition. The loss of someone irreplaceable. Another heartbreak for good measure, also of your own volition. With the number of lessons the universe had packed in for you, you were certain that you’d be able to pass on to your next life without any problems.

Third time's the charm.

That was how the saying went, but for your own sake, you had to enter your final year of university stubbornly clinging to the hope that surely, fourth time would be the charm instead.

Incidentally, charm did come, in the form of Bang Christopher Chan.

It had begun with the most trivial of interactions. On the first day of your PHYS 408: Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics course, out of breath and—despite the cool February air—nearly working up a sweat from racing around the physics building like some kind of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshman, you’d made the very innocuous decision to take the first empty seat you could find. Near the back of the class, close to the door; the perfect spot for someone looking to get their credits in and clock out.

What you’d failed to notice until after you’d sat down, however, was the brooding statue of a boy occupying the chair right next to yours, resting his cheek on his hand and staring at the whiteboard with a look so fierce you would think it had personally wronged him somehow.

Seo Changbin. You’d seen him around more than once, having shared a handful of classes with him over the years, but never daring to approach him. You weren’t exactly someone you’d describe as faint of heart, but something about his muscular build and intense gaze, always made darker by the shadow of a cap, had you wary enough to keep a distance.

Not that it was difficult to steer clear of him, anyway, when he was the last to arrive and the first to leave as soon as each lecture hit its designated time limit—and that was if he’d even shown up to begin with.

You still remembered the first thing you’d noticed after settling down next to him, that being, that he was surprisingly much shorter than you’d initially thought. All those times you’d spotted him from afar, tapping along to the beat of his music or killing time in the activity center between classes, had given you the impression that he was as gifted in height as he was in muscle.

That didn’t change the fact that his intimidating presence more than made up for it, and you had taken great care to not veer into his personal space when you slipped your notebook and pencils out of your bag to prepare for what was sure to be a grueling learning experience.

The second thing you’d noticed about Changbin, was that he himself didn’t have a bag—or any kind of work materials, for that matter. There he sat on the first day of class, with nothing but a caseless Samsung S23 Ultra, a pair of headphones, and a ridiculously large bottle of what you’d assumed to be some kind of energy drink. It was almost impressive, in a way, how he hadn’t even tried to fool himself into thinking he’d be productive this semester.

You’d heard horror stories from your upperclassmen about this Thermodynamics professor. His strict grading criteria and endless list of hyper-specific rules were enough to make anyone with your degree plan dread taking his course; the most notable of said rules being that he prohibited any and all forms of technology in his classroom. It hadn’t taken long for him to single out every student who had dared to present even the tiniest flash of fiberglass around him, and Changbin was no exception.

In retrospect, it should’ve been inevitable to you that twenty minutes into the introductory lecture, he’d lean over and awkwardly ask you if he could borrow a pencil.

Wordlessly, you’d nodded and passed him a complimentary sheet of paper along with your pencil bag, allowing him to choose for himself. To your astonishment, he’d reached for your pink, Sanrio-themed mechanical pencil without a single moment of hesitation, whispering his thanks.

You’d never thought a smirk could be described as shy before you saw his. It was unexpected, coming from someone who looked like he bent iron bars for fun, but a welcome surprise regardless.

What had been even more surprising, was that this strange affinity for cuteness wasn’t a one time thing for him—not even close. With every passing Tuesday and Thursday morning you spent in his company, you soon came to discover that the Seo Changbin you’d created in your mind and the Seo Changbin existing before you were two very, very different people.

“You’re here!” he piped, loud enough to turn a few heads in his direction. “I saved you a seat.”

The flimsy, neglected notebook occupying your chair as some kind of placeholder was such a pitiful sight that you couldn’t help but snort.

“The seat I’ve sat in every day since our first class?” you hummed. “Thanks, Bin.”

“You’d better mean that,” he complained. “This place is lawless, someone might get bold one day and take your spot.”

“They’d beg me to take it back after five minutes of your nagging.” You passed his notebook back to him with a grin. It was hardly used and horribly undersized for a course as rigorous as this one, but you still considered it an improvement over the sorry state he’d been in when you first met.

You slipped into the familiar spot, unzipping your bag and preparing your study materials. “Shouldn’t I be the one surprised that you’re here, anyway?” you pointed out. “To what do we owe the honor of Seo Changbin having perfect attendance in an 8:00 a.m. class?”

“You know exactly what,” Changbin shuddered. Beneath the visor of his cap, you saw his eyes dart towards the podium, landing briefly on your demon of a professor. “Besides, senior year and all. It’d be pretty sad to take an extra semester just ‘cause I slacked off.”

You made a small noise of agreement. “So, fear and pressure,” you dropped your pencil bag dramatically on the table. “Now you sound like a real college student.”

Changbin perked up as he spotted the coveted flash of pink amidst your sea of pens and highlighters. “There she is,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Thought I’d have to make it through this quiz without my lucky charm for a sec.”

“You keep calling it that,” you mused, fishing the pencil in question out from your pouch. “What makes it so special?”

Solemnly, he took it from your hand, curling his fingers around the pink plastic with all the grace and delicacy in the world. He gestured for you to lean in closer, as if preparing to share some deep, profound secret with you.

“It never runs out of lead.”

You nodded, putting on your best fascinated face. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d been the one refilling it.

“Plus, I’ve aced every quiz I’ve taken with it so far.” Changbin’s eyes gleamed as he continued. “It’ll get me through midterms for sure.”

You reached out mischievously, threatening to swipe it from his hands. “In that case, I might just use it for myself.”

“Don’t even joke about that!”

Though your mood was light, it still soured the slightest bit at the mention of grades. Of the three quizzes you’d taken so far this semester, Changbin had scored better than you on two of them. It was a silly thing to be bothered by. You knew by now that he wasn’t lacking in intelligence by any means, but you also knew that intelligence alone wasn’t enough when it came to this course—or astrophysics in general. Certain levels of discipline and hard work were just as essential to your success, and it was difficult to ignore the question of what you seemed to be missing in those departments, especially when Changbin came across as so carefree about his studies.

With the way everything else had been crumbling around you since you’d begun university, the last hope you could cling to was at least maintaining your GPA until graduation. It had been the one constant in your life, an oddly comforting escape that you could pour your focus into when all else failed. You couldn’t afford to slip up—to be anything less than exceptional—for even a moment, not when your field of study was so fiercely competitive.

“You’ve definitely been doing well for yourself,” you commented. “It can’t all be thanks to Cinnamoroll, can it?”

“Oh?” the corner of his mouth curved up into a smirk. “Is that your way of complimenting me?”

You rolled your eyes, immediately accepting that you wouldn’t get anywhere without buttering him up first.

“I just think it’s unfair to give my pencil all the credit instead of that genius mind of yours, that’s all.”

Your tone was far too sweet to be natural, and you were sure that Changbin could see right through it. Even if he did, he played along anyway, lifting his chin proudly and letting out a satisfied hum.

“It’s true, it’s true,” he boasted. “Keep going.”

“Beauty, brawn, and brains,” you marveled, throwing a hand over your heart to really sell the idea. “You’re living proof that a guy can have it all.”

It was hard to describe the strange, high-pitched sound he made in response. Whatever it was, it helped your efforts feel just a bit more justified. Changbin scrunched up his nose, suddenly at a loss for words, and you were once again reminded of how utterly laughable it was that just two months ago, you’d found him intimidating.

“Ah, seriously,” he cleared his throat, trying to recover from the momentary lapse in bravado. “Alright, I’ll be honest. I get a lot of help from my friend.”

Your interest piqued, and you inched a bit closer. “Your friend?”

He crossed his arms, looking contemplative, and for a second, you thought he might demand more compliments before going into any further detail.

“He’s a couple years older than us, but still studying. He used to be on the astrophysics track before switching to music composition senior year.”

Your eyes widened a bit, half-perplexed, half-impressed. Astrophysics to music. It was a bold change to say the least, not one you could ever imagine yourself making, especially if it’d been close enough to his graduation that he had to take extra semesters.

A lightbulb flickered to life in your head, effectively cutting off whatever you’d planned to say next. “Wait a minute, music composition? Don’t tell me—?”

Changbin clicked his tongue, that same, sheepish expression creeping its way right back onto his face.

“Yes.”

“The same guy you—?”

“Yes,” he repeated. “Chan. The same guy I make music with.”

No matter how hard you tried, you could never suppress your amusement when you remembered the deeply unserious name Changbin and his friends had chosen for themselves.

“So, he’s one third of the famed 3RACHA,” you said it with a bit too much glee, your smile only widening when he shushed you as if the word were some kind of bad omen.

“Why are you embarrassed? The stuff you’ve shown me is really good.”

“I know.” A genuine compliment amidst your teasing only seemed to fluster him further, and he averted his eyes with a grumble. “Ah, forget it. Can’t believe I was gonna be nice and ask if you wanted to study with us.”

You paused. It was easy to forget sometimes that Changbin could be more observant than he let on. Still, you wondered if your earlier shift in demeanor had really been that obvious.

A part of you, the more prideful part, wanted to dismiss his offer right away. It would be like admitting that you were struggling with the course—which, realistically, you knew was ridiculous to care about when every one of your peers was going through the same thing. If the average class scores that your professor so proudly made known were any indication, it’d be a miracle if you weren’t struggling.

Before you could open your mouth to respond, however, the dull, lifeless voice of Dr. Choi rang out through the room, signaling the beginning of the lecture. You put away your study materials begrudgingly, cursing yourself for becoming too immersed in your chat with Changbin to get any last-minute cramming in.

Changbin, on the other hand, looked relaxed as ever, tapping your pencil lazily against the tabletop while the quizzes were passed out. You braced yourself, mind racing with all the knowledge you’d accumulated over the past weeks as a copy of the deceptively short quiz was slid over to you. It was a mere three questions long, but you’d be lucky if you finished them all in the time given to you.

Your eyes landed on the first Gaussian Probability Distribution word problem, and your head went blank. That was all it took for you to lean over to Changbin and whisper.

“I might have to take you up on that.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Noon couldn’t come fast enough.

Your Thermodynamics quiz, not to mention the lecture that followed, had effectively drained your energy before the clock had even struck 9:00, with a full day of classes and assignments still lined up on the horizon.

As anticipated, you’d barely managed to complete the set of problems, even with all your preparation and practice. It could’ve gone much worse, but it was still enough to solidify your decision to join in on the study sessions Changbin had proposed.

He’d eagerly sorted out the details with you after class, planning to meet later this week at his and Chan’s apartment. It hadn't dawned on you until that moment that the latter of the two would probably be expecting some kind of payment for his tutoring services. After all, him helping Changbin out was one thing, but you were a complete stranger.

Changbin, however, had shut the possibility down as quickly as you’d brought it up. According to him, not only would Chan not ask you for any compensation, he’d outright refuse to accept it, even if you tried.

“The only thing Chan loves more than meeting people is helping them,” he’d told you, sounding so sure of himself that you were inclined to believe it.

Even so, it was a bit odd. A former astrophysics major, making a degree switch as drastic as music composition, and still being willing to revisit the same, headache-inducing subjects he’d so narrowly escaped, for free? The more you learned about this Chan character, the more you began to question what kind of person he really was.

Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you were, in fact, ravenous.

You picked up your pace, drawn in by the welcoming aromas wafting from the campus food court. The feeling of your cell phone vibrating against your thigh made your steps falter a bit, and before you even slipped it out of your pocket, you already had a good idea of who the caller might be.

“Hi, Iseul.”

“Where are you?” she sounded expectant and slightly annoyed, sending your brain on an urgent mission to recall if you’d somehow lost track of plans with her.

“In the student union?” you answered cautiously. “Why?”

You were met with a dramatic huff crackling through the phone speaker.

“I’m outside your place,” she said, as if it were obvious. “Please tell me you didn’t have lunch already. I picked some up for us.”

You blinked, thoroughly confused for what was neither the first nor the last time as to what this girl’s thought process could possibly look like. After two years of friendship, you could confidently say that you had no idea.

“Sorry, did you text me or something?” You pulled your phone away from your ear to open your messages.

“No,” came her reply, tinged with the slightest hint of defensiveness. “But is it so crazy for me to expect you to actually be at your apartment? Y’know, the place where you live?”

“At noon on a Tuesday? A little,” you said plainly. You chose not to bring up the fact that she had to be well aware of your schedule to organize this meeting the very instant your lunch break started.

Another huff. “Well, are you coming or not? There’s a million things I need to talk to you about and I don't know how much longer I can wait here before that security lady accuses me of loitering again.”

You checked the time. It was only a short, ten minute walk to your apartment complex, you could definitely make it before your next lecture.

“Alright, alright. I'm on my way.”

“You’re the best,” her tone changed so abruptly that you almost laughed out loud. “See you soon!”

The call ended before you could get your own goodbyes in. With how quickly she’d hung up, you’d think she had something else to do besides stand around waiting for you to arrive.

Regardless, you hardly felt irritated, well-acquainted with Iseul’s behavior by now.

Your friendship with her had blossomed by pure accident, even with some reluctance on your part. One too many times sophomore year, you’d encountered her in the computer lab at the same ungodly hour as you, battling an army of technical issues with no one around to solve them considering that even the lab assistants had long taken their leave for the night. The first two instances you’d spotted her, slamming her mouse against the desk and cursing violently at her monitor, you’d kept to yourself—albeit with a tinge of guilt—and focused on your own approaching deadlines. After the third time, however, you’d figured the universe was trying to tell you something, and decided to help her out before she rendered every piece of equipment in the lab unusable in her academia-induced fits of rage.

From there, she’d latched on to you in a heartbeat. After all, someone who could help with tasks as incomprehensible to her as troubleshooting Microsoft Excel was sure to be reliable in other areas. On top of that, her newfound interest in you had only doubled when she’d found out that you happened to be living in the newest phase of apartments on campus. Suddenly, she had made the executive decision that you were the best of friends, and that every waking moment of your free time should be spent together at your place.

You might have been offended by her comically transparent motives if you hadn’t discovered soon after that your floorplan was just a few square feet bigger than hers. What she probably wanted most, you’d figured, was a friend.

Your initial misgivings aside, you were grateful to have Iseul in your life. She was someone who could be kept at a safe distance. Not physically, (her constant barging into your space would never allow that) but emotionally. A bit too preoccupied with herself to ever delve into personal matters that you’d rather keep to yourself, but still considerate enough to care about you. At least, in the bare minimum of ways, which was really all you needed from her. She was convenient and comfortable, and you’d long found your rhythm with her despite many labeling her a pain to get along with.

As you began making your way out of the dining hall to meet her, the sight of someone entering from the far side of the building made your heart drop to your stomach.

You froze, suddenly rooted in your place, feet heavy as cinderblocks. It shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you. You were bound to see him again, eventually, whether on campus or through some other unfortunate crossing of paths later down the line. You’d known this and braced yourself for it, too.

Still, no amount of time would’ve ever been long enough.

A very specific type of dread crept up on you, one you hadn’t felt so intensely for almost a year now. But the way it filled up your chest and spread through your skin was all too familiar, like it had never left your system to begin with. Like the kind of person you were before was still inside you, lying dormant.

Resentment and remorse fought for their place in your mind. Somehow, they both felt unjustified. He didn’t deserve to be the target of those emotions, and you didn’t deserve to have them. He hadn’t done anything—that was exactly it: he hadn’t done anything.

You told yourself that you had no right to feel this way. But it didn’t change the fact that he embodied everything you wanted to forget about the past three years.

He hadn’t noticed you yet; at least, you hoped desperately that he hadn’t. You weren’t going to stick around until he did, either. You shook your head, as if to forcibly expel the thoughts before they took root in your brain, and spun on your heels, making your way towards the exit located as far away from him as possible.

In that moment, you were more grateful for Iseul’s impulsive tendencies than ever.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

You rubbed your hands together in an attempt to warm them up, praying that the clouds would hold out until you and Changbin made it to his apartment. It was an unusually cold day by April’s standards, and the sharp winds and ominous gray sky promised a rain that was sure to be bone-chilling for whoever got caught in it.

“Right there,” Changbin pointed at the building you were approaching, finger landing in the direction of a balcony on its third floor. There was a soccer jersey for a team you didn’t recognize hanging off the railing, flapping in the wind so wildly that you were concerned it may fly away altogether. “See, the walk isn’t so bad, right?”

It had been nearly half an hour. Granted, the journey home took longer than expected thanks to Changbin, despite having lived in this complex for two years, still managing to lose his way somehow.

“I’m starting to understand why getting to class on time is so hard for you.”

“I told you, I’ve never taken this route before!” he objected. “I’m just not used to coming from the east side of campus.”

You relented, deciding you’d teased him enough along the way. “It’s alright, it was a bonding experience,” you gave him a playful smile. “I just hope Chan won’t mind that we’re late.”

Changbin waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t worry. He’s probably holed up in his room working right now. Doubt he even knows what time it is.”

It sounded like a dig at the older boy, but there was no hint of scorn in Changbin’s voice, just honest affection.

A strange feeling had been periodically bubbling up inside you all week, and at the mention of Chan, it made its presence known yet again. Whether curiosity or anxiety was at the root of it, you weren’t quite sure, but it grew stronger and stronger with each step you took up to their apartment. By the time you reached the third floor, you found it hard to focus on anything else.

Changbin fumbled with his keys for a moment before unlocking the door and swinging it open. You made note of the plated number on the wall next to you as he did. 8-325.

“Well, we made it in one piece,” he stepped to the side, inviting you in. You accepted with an appreciative nod, and as you slipped off your shoes, your eyes scanned over the living room and kitchen areas in front of you. They were surprisingly neat, with just a few stray socks and water bottles scattered here and there. Even the state of the kitchen sink wasn’t all that bad. No rotting food, no mountain of dishes, no overflowing trashcan.

“Wow,” you murmured, impressed. “It’s clean.”

Changbin snickered at that, as if he’d anticipated your exact reaction. “Minho raises hell if we let it get any worse than this.”

Minho. You’d almost forgotten about their other roommate. Like in the case of Chan, you hadn’t met him, but you’d heard a few things here and there from Changbin. He was a year older than you—a Computer Science major, if you remembered right—but still an undergraduate due to him taking a gap year after high school to work. You wondered if Changbin was some kind of magnet for these people, with his unique balance of childish antics and emotional maturity giving any upperclassmen he came into contact with no choice but to take him under their wing, even sticking around until he graduated like true, responsible older brothers.

“Chan!” Changbin’s voice rang out through the apartment, louder than you thought was probably necessary. “Chan! We’re here!”

There was no response for a minute or so, and just as you shrank back in preparation for another ear-splitting shout from Changbin, you registered the faint sound of a door opening down the hall.

“Coming!”

For some reason, you held your breath.

Shrouded in a mass of black, from his hoodie, to his pants, to the beanie on his head, out shuffled Chan.

He was just an inch or two taller than Changbin, but similarly to him, he had a strong presence. Maybe it was the way his clothes made him look like a walking void, or maybe it was the way he appeared so friendly in contrast to them. His eyes were gentle and his face was weary, but kind. He looked like someone who smiled a lot.

“Sorry,” he pulled his headphones down, letting them rest around his neck. “I lost track of time.”

Changbin gave you a knowing look, as if to remind you that he’d told you so. “It’s okay, I figured.” He conveniently left out the fact that you and him had arrived beyond schedule.

Chan turned to you, tired eyes finding you for the first time. You introduced yourself with a quick dip of your head, and he did the same. You thought it would end at that, but to your surprise, he reached out his hand, wiggling it around slightly to push back the oversized sleeve that had been covering his palm.

“Nice to meet you!” he chirped.

You took his hand, unable to stop yourself from flinching the instant your skin brushed against his.

He was warm. Unnaturally so.

It set off every last one of your nerve-endings, seared through your veins. You might’ve attributed it to his clothing, but all three of you were dressed in thicker attire given the weather. Surely, he had to be cooking up a ridiculous level of heat in that hoodie for his skin to be burning the way it was. On top of that, he didn’t look sweaty or flushed in the slightest. There was just a natural, rosy complexion to his cheeks (which, upon second look, you noted were quite soft in comparison to the rest of his masculine features).

You blinked, realizing with a start how long you’d gone without returning Chan’s greeting.

Changbin bumped his shoulder against yours, and you cringed inwardly. That had to be some kind of record for how fast a first impression could crumble.

“Nice to meet you, too.” you tried to quell the awkwardness, but the way you pulled back all too quickly only seemed to make things worse.

Chan eyed you for a split second longer, his stare flickering down to your hand so briefly that you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it. He flexed his fingers once, then the look of concern on his face morphed into a polite smile.

It was an unfortunate moment for you to notice that he had dimples.

“Is it too toasty in here?” He angled his head towards the thermostat. “I can change it if you’re uncomfortable!”

Just a minute ago, you would’ve told him that you were fine. You’d been perfectly content with your body temperature up until you’d come into contact with the human furnace that was Bang Chan.

You had half a mind to question if he was the uncomfortable one, with all the heat that was practically radiating off of him, but Changbin spoke up first.

“Have you been outside today?” He shivered. “Trust me, this is perfect.”

At that, he strolled over to the kitchen table and plopped down his belongings, looking more prepared to learn than you had ever seen him in class. Chan's smile didn’t waver despite the fact that he obviously hadn’t been asking for Changbin’s opinion, and he exchanged a glance with you, as if you were old pals rolling your eyes over a mutual friend.

You smiled back at him, determined to let this guy believe that you were, in fact, capable of understanding social cues.

“I'm gonna grab my old notes,” he informed you. “Make yourself at home!”

You thanked him quietly, making your way over to the table and joining Changbin in the seat closest to him. As soon as Chan was out of earshot, he nudged you curiously.

“What was that?”

You put on your best neutral front. “What?”

Changbin squinted, eyeing you up and down. “You were acting weird.”

You considered playing dumb, but quickly decided against it. Knowing him, he wouldn’t stop pestering you until you gave him the answer he wanted.

“He was hot,” you shrugged.

“He was what!?”

You tensed up. “No, no, not like that. I mean he was hot, like, physically.”

His mouth hung open, and you weren’t sure what to be more annoyed with: your abysmal choice in words, or his seemingly deliberate misunderstanding of you.

“He felt hot,” you clarified. “Like, his skin. That's all.”

The explanation only seemed to tickle Changbin further, and you elbowed his side irritably, trying to shush his delighted cackles.

“Okay, so, you weren’t acting weird. You just are weird.”

“I'm serious!” you protested.

“He's not better looking than me, is he?” he continued dramatically. “You didn’t do anything like that when we first met.”

You exhaled, composing yourself before you grew defensive over something so ridiculous. “Because your hand didn’t feel like the surface of the sun.”

Changbin nodded solemnly as if he understood, but the look on his face was still completely unconvinced. “Yeah, yeah,” he clicked his tongue. “Just don’t go falling in love with him, alright?”

You snorted, not bothering to dignify him with a response.

That was the last thing you needed—the last thing you wanted, even. To spend another few years building something that you could already predict the demise of. Another few years constructing a tower that you would never even get to see completed, let alone make a home in. Because it was sure to crumble; that was the only thing it could do when its foundation was never fit to support anything to begin with.

The sound of Chan’s approaching footsteps snapped you out of your unpleasant thoughts. He'd taken longer to return than you’d expected, and you could only pray that he hadn’t overheard your conversation with Changbin. He did seem like the type, after all. To pretend like he was still in the other room so that you could be spared the embarrassment of getting caught in the middle of a conversation about him.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

Two notebooks, a laptop, and the colossal textbook required for PHYS 408: Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics—co-written by Dr. Choi himself, of course—were all dropped on the table before you. You felt a glimmer of hope. Chan seemed to be serious about helping out, so much that you wondered if this arrangement truly could be the extra boost you needed to finish the semester with an A.

He settled into the chair opposite you and Changbin. “So, next up is the midterm, yeah? I guess we should start from the beginning.”

“Inexact differentials, please,” Changbin requested. “I still don’t get them.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, lips twitching in amusement. “Since when are you so ready to study?”

“Since we got our new recruit,” he leaned back in his chair. “There’s less pressure on me now that your wrath is split between us.”

You let a soft chuckle slip at that, trying to imagine what it might take to anger someone who appeared as good-natured as Chan. Said boy cleared his throat, looking a bit embarrassed.

“I swear, I’m not that harsh.”

You nodded, fully aware of Changbin’s talent for exaggeration. “I don’t think anything can scare me after Dr. Choi, anyway.”

“That’s true,” he giggled. For how charming it was, it didn’t last nearly long enough.

You pulled your eyes away before landing yourself in another incriminating situation.

“Alright, inexact differentials it is.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Forty-five minutes into your first study session, you’d come to make two very important realizations about Bang Chan.

The first, being, that he wasn’t exactly the best at explaining things.

He’d typically start on the right track, but it wasn’t long before he’d veer off on tangent upon tangent, tacking on more and more information until it became a full-blown ramble, all loosely connected with a series of “um”s and “y’know”s before being clumsily wrapped up with a final “so…uh, yeah!”

You didn’t hold it against him. He was clearly a smart guy, and you knew firsthand what a nightmare these topics could be to teach to other people, especially taking into account that it had been two years since he’d learned them. Even with his less than articulate methods, you still found yourself grasping concepts exponentially better than you ever did in your thermodynamics lecture, and that was because Chan seemed to be gifted with what you could only assume was an endless supply of patience. He’d repeat himself as many times as deemed necessary, perfectly content with rereading his notes, checking the textbook, and even searching things up online until he was certain that both you and Changbin had understood.

The second realization you’d come to, was that your concerns about whether or not you might get to hear more of his laughter had quickly been put to rest.

He giggled at everything. At you, at Changbin, at himself. Sometimes, he giggled at nothing at all, just to fill the silence. It was admittedly fascinating to see the way his face would change, from the stern expression he wore when offering guidance, to the sheepish smile that’d appear when he stumbled over his words.

After hearing his laughter for the better part of an hour, infectious and melodic and, occasionally, ending with the faintest squeak, you still hadn’t gotten sick of it. Though, you did find yourself thinking that he had to be either an extremely self-conscious person, or an extremely giddy one for giggling to come as naturally to him as breathing.

“Does that make sense?” Chan tilted his head. “Let me know if you wanna go over it again!”

“I think I got it,” you smiled.

In truth, you didn’t, but it was a matter of dignity at this point. Enthalpy was one of the most basic properties you needed to know in order to build on concepts infinitely more complicated than it, and if you held up the review any longer to focus on something so mundane, you may not be able to show your face around this guy ever again.

It didn’t help that somewhere along the line, the looming clouds outside had broken at last, bringing about the downpour that you’d anticipated all day. Each explosive clap of thunder chipped away at your focus more and more, making you prone to stupid, easily avoidable mistakes that frustrated you to no end.

You thought your answer had been convincing, even making sure to look him in the eye when you’d said it, but Chan still didn’t let up.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“Oh my God,” Changbin’s voice turned up in a whine, his earlier enthusiasm nowhere to be found. “If you explain this one more time I’m seriously gonna go crazy.”

Before Chan could respond, the sound of keys jingling amidst the steady patter of rain caught everyone’s attention. You turned your head just in time to see the door creak open, letting in a violent gust of wind, and, with it, the lean figure of a stranger.

He was soaked. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, clothes hanging off of him like heavy drapes, and sneakers forming small puddles on the wooden floor.

“It’s raining,” he announced.

Changbin broke out into a fit of laughter, and you bit your lip to prevent yourself from doing the same. Chan, though clearly on the verge of losing it as well, still rose from his chair like a reflex and grabbed a hand towel from the kitchen. He tossed it to the other boy, who you could only guess was Minho.

“I was starting to wonder where you were,” Chan remarked, voice shaking with barely contained glee.

“I got sick of waiting for the rain to stop, so I made a run for it.” Minho dumped the water out of his shoes and shut the door in disgust. “Then I remembered why I don’t run.”

The small towel didn’t do much for his drenched state, and after a few moments of shaking it haphazardly in his hair, he gave up and let it rest around his neck instead.

“You should shower and dry off,” Chan told him. “You’ll catch another cold.”

Minho grunted in acknowledgement, but rather than following through, he strolled over to the kitchen. As he did, his gaze landed on you for the first time, giving you a clear view of his face.

Every striking feature of his was balanced out with a soft counterpart. Sharp, intense eyes with puffy bags underneath, a sharp, prominent nose between full cheeks, and sharp, catlike lips above a round chin. It was a delicate combination that not only made him attractive, but interesting to look at, as well.

He studied you for a moment too long, just enough to spark a sense of unease inside you.

“That’s no good, Changbin,” he clicked his tongue at last. “Don’t tell me you’re such a hopeless case that Chan had to find you a second tutor.”

“It’s a study group!” Changbin cried indignantly. “And what the hell kind of introduction is that? Say hi!”

The corner of Minho’s mouth curved into a smirk, like it was made to do exactly that. Similar to Changbin’s, it wasn’t sultry, but unlike Changbin’s, it wasn't shy. It was mischievous and playful, like that of a child’s cheeky grin.

His attention shifted back to you, and he gave you a proper greeting. It was surprisingly polite, all things considered, even ending with a short bow.

He popped open the refrigerator door, leaning forward in a way that had to be uncomfortably cold given that he was still dripping wet.

“I had a few pudding cups left in here. At least two,” he called out.

“Wasn’t me,” Chan piped with the speed of someone who was accustomed to being the first suspect.

Minho pulled his head out from behind the door, accusatory glare locking right on Changbin.

The boy shifted guiltily next to you, unable to hold eye contact with Minho for longer than a few seconds.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Minho shut the fridge with a hum. “That’s alright.” His voice was breezy and sweet, a complete contrast to what came out of his mouth next. “Just sleep with your door locked until you buy me new ones.”

“Hey,” Changbin whined. “That’s scary.”

He tugged at your arm as if expecting you to rush to his defense, and you settled for giving him a comforting pat on the back, not nearly familiar enough with Minho to joke around with him like that. Given how Chan was watching in amusement, you figured this was a regular occurrence for them, anyway.

Following Minho’s arrival, your review session more or less fell apart. The idle chit chat eventually led into a full on conversation, and when Changbin shut his textbook with a luxurious stretch, you knew there was no chance of getting him to open it again.

You didn’t mind, really. The three of you had covered a lot of ground in the time you’d spent studying, and you were already worlds more confident about the upcoming exam. Your main concern, now, was how you were going to get home. It was well past sunset, and the thick sheet of clouds had darkened the night more so than usual, not allowing even a single drop of moonlight to break through. That, coupled with the fact that it was still very much pouring outside, complicated your plans a bit.

Sitting there as the odd one out among the group of friends, you couldn’t help but feel like you were overstaying your welcome, but any attempts you made at suggesting that you brave the storm and head home were emphatically shut down.

“It’s okay,” you tried to convince them. “I really should get back and have dinner.”

“Have dinner with us!” Changbin didn’t miss a beat.

You hesitated, uncertain as to whether it would be more rude to accept or decline.

“It doesn’t look like the rain’s gonna stop anytime soon,” Chan reasoned. “Why don’t we eat first?”

Minho, in vengeance of his fallen pudding cups, loudly declared that he wouldn’t be cooking dinner for anyone. It became clear to you in that moment that he was probably the only thing standing between his roommates and malnutrition, because their go-to second option (if not their only other option) was instant ramyeon.

So, there the four of you sat, crammed together on their living room couch, watching some obscure superhero movie that Changbin seemed to know every line of, and slurping away at your noodles.

They had turned out tasty enough, with the extra spices and sauces you’d added to make the flavor a bit more appealing, but with the way Chan scarfed down his share, you might’ve thought it was the best meal he’d ever had. He was all satisfied noises and delighted fist shakes, looking happier eating instant cup noodles than you’d seen some people look their entire lives.

He was cute, you decided.

Though the movie lessened some of the pressure you felt to socialize, a faint air of awkwardness still lingered around you, only ever really ebbing when you and Changbin would interact in between his passionate lore discussions with Chan and his bickering with Minho.

Chan seemed to sense early on that you weren’t fully relaxed with the atmosphere; at least, you assumed as much judging by his periodic efforts to pull you back into the conversation.

“Everything good?” he’d asked at one point, leaning over so you could hear his whisper above the movie.

Even with Changbin serving as a buffer between you two, his persistent warmth still found you.

“Oh, yeah.”

Not your most eloquent response. To be fair, you hadn’t anticipated his question. It didn’t seem to have convinced him, but he’d given you a smile, anyway.

“Alright. Just know that you’re more than welcome here, yeah?”

You were grateful for his kindness, but at the same time, it had caught you off guard. It wasn’t a regular thing for you, being read with such ease by someone you hardly knew, and you couldn’t decide if you were just being uncharacteristically transparent that day, or if Chan was too perceptive for his own good.

Changbin was Changbin. That in itself helped you loosen up a bit, as well. He behaved in virtually the exact same way around the older boys as he did with you—albeit, leaning more into his childish side—and it filled your chest with a pleasant sort of relief. He considered you a friend; close enough to treat you with the same intimacy that he treated people he’d known for years.

Minho, on the other hand, was more of an enigma. Not rude by any means, but not overly accommodating, either. The one thing you were certain of was that he was incredibly funny. Witty, too. He didn’t speak as much as Chan or Changbin, but when he did, it was always something memorable. His voice had a playful lilt to it that never seemed to go away, like nothing he said was meant to be taken too seriously.

As the night continued and the four of you had all eaten your fill—or, several fills in Chan’s case—your reservations slowly but surely melted away. You spoke more naturally, joked with Changbin the way you always did when you were together, and even found yourself comfortable enough to make a few snarky comments about the film’s ridiculous plot and cringeworthy special effects, to which Changbin took great offense and Minho had let out a few laughs.

As for Chan’s laughter, another few hours of it still hadn't made it any less endearing. In fact, the more you heard it, the more hooked on it you became.

By the time the storm had passed and you could finally head home safely, you found yourself a bit wistful that your impromptu gathering had come to an end.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

“So,” Iseul’s eyes twinkled. “What’s the verdict? Is he cute?”

Straight to the point. It was something you liked about her, usually, but in this scenario, you almost wished she’d never asked.

Ever since that day, you’d felt an inexplicable sense of…well, you didn’t quite know what it was. Discomfort, unease, foreboding; they were all too extreme to describe the feeling. All you knew was that something peculiar stirred inside you whenever you thought back to Chan. Maybe it was because of your clumsy first interaction, or maybe it was because of that nagging, uncanny belief that he could see right through you from the very first moment you met.

It was unfair, in a way, because you knew for a fact that he’d been nothing but friendly every time you’d hung out with him—a delight to be around, really. You could easily see why he was the social butterfly that Changbin made him out to be.

“Hello?” Iseul complained. “I'm not gonna stop asking, even if you ignore me.”

In retrospect, telling her about your new study routine with Changbin and his mystery friend—however offhanded it had seemed at the time—probably wasn’t your smartest move.

“Yeah. Really cute, actually.”

You may as well have told her that he’d asked for her hand in marriage with the squeal she let out. “I knew it, I knew it! Tell me everything.” She nearly knocked her drink over in her rush to scoot closer to you.

It was hard to keep a straight face. Even when you knew it was short-lived, her enthusiasm over the simplest of things was contagious.

“What’s there to tell?” you feigned nonchalance in a way that was sure to annoy her. “I go to him and Bin’s place, we study, I leave.”

“Come on,” Iseul pouted. “There has to be more to it than that. What’s he like? Do you have a picture?”

“A picture?” you echoed incredulously. “You take a commemorative selfie every time you study thermo?”

“Like, his Instagram or something!”

“He has three posts, and none are of his face.”

Iseul deflated at that, and you broke out into proud chuckles. You were being difficult, sure, but the part about his profile was at least true. A picture of his hand holding up a peace sign at the beach, a picture of what you assumed to be his dog back home, and a surprisingly clear shot of the moon; those were the three precious images Bang Chan had felt compelled to share with the world, with the most recent one being from almost two years ago.

“He’s got a nice smile,” you offered.

Iseul took the bait instantly, perking back up. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Dimples, too.”

“Cute.” She clasped her hands together, looking lost in a dream. “That’s it, I have to see him.”

“What’s got you so interested, anyway?” you mused. “Aren’t you talking to someone?”

With the way her face dropped right back into a grimace, you knew you’d touched on a sore subject. “No,” she said curtly. “I mean, am I? Does it count as talking when you’re lucky to get a reply every six hours?”

“You’re just clingy,” you teased, already bracing yourself for when her hand flew out to swipe at you.

“I’m totally low maintenance!” she cried. “Anyway, I don't even want Chan for me. This is about you.”

You shifted in your spot, that same, strange feeling twisting in your stomach, stronger this time.

“Me? What do you mean?”

Iseul put her chopsticks to the side, giving you a look that was far too serious given the topic.

“I’m finding you a boytoy.”

You nearly laughed out loud, only stopping yourself in the nick of time when you caught that she wasn’t joking in the slightest.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!” she insisted, bravely holding her ground in the face of your disbelief. “What are you gonna do when I settle down and don’t have time for you anymore? I gotta make sure you have someone to entertain yourself with!”

Your amusement wavered just a bit. You knew she meant well, but when it came to Iseul—or anyone, for that matter—trying to do things for your sake, you’d long accepted that you’d prefer if they didn’t even bother.

“There’s no rush,” you pointed out. “You have to actually get a text back before you can settle down, right?”

“Oh my God! I'm trying to help you and this is the thanks I get?”

“Thanks, Iseul.” You reached out to give her an apologetic pat. “But I don’t need any help with that.”

Suddenly, her lips curved into a devious smirk, and you had a sneaking suspicion that she’d misunderstood what you meant.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” she drawled. “Never forgetting that dreamboat you had following you around like a lost puppy all sophomore year. What was his name again—?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you cut her off a bit too harshly, regretting it as soon as you did.

Iseul frowned. “It was just a question.”

“You’re right, sorry.”

“What ever happened to him, anyways?” she continued, apparently not taking the hint. “Things ended so suddenly with you two.”

You tried not to bristle. After your near-encounter in the dining hall the other week, he’d been occupying your thoughts far too often for your liking. That, coupled with those peculiar feelings that had sparked within you upon meeting Chan, had you unreasonably on edge ever since.

“I told you,” you tried to sound casual. “It just wasn’t a good match. I don’t think he really liked me all that much.”

Iseul scoffed, not buying it for a second. “Please, he was obsessed with you.”

The urge to tell her everything right then and there was more tempting than ever. To unload all the bitterness, the guilt that had been building up and weighing you down for the better part of two years now. You knew you couldn’t, though, not when it meant having to break the very same news to her that had led to the end of your relationship. The chances of her reacting the same way that he had were slim, but even the smallest possibility was more than enough reason for you to stay quiet. You’d kept it tucked away for far too long now, anyway. She’d only get upset if she found out now.

“Obsession isn’t the same as love.”

Iseul grew quiet for a moment.

“I guess,” she mumbled.

She turned her attention back to her soda, as if the conversation had suddenly become too heavy for her tastes.

You didn’t blame her, but it further solidified your decision to leave what you’d wanted to say buried in your heart.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Several doses of caffeine were in order.

Anyone who happened to witness the unfortunate sight of you and Changbin stumbling out of Room 118 of the physics building, spiritually battered and bruised and barely able to process your surroundings, might’ve thought you’d just gone to war.

It wasn’t much of a stretch, considering the exam you’d just taken. You felt ridiculous for ever thinking the two hour time slot was overkill; in actuality, it had been a rare display of mercy from Dr. Choi.

“I’m dropping out,” Changbin declared.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll do it,” he insisted. “Before I lose my mind for real.”

He slumped heavily against you, and it took all your strength to support his muscular body so that the both of you wouldn’t be sent toppling to the floor.

“After everything Chan’s done for you? You might just break his heart.”

Changbin seemed to take your joke a bit too seriously, a horrified look crossing his face. “Can you imagine how that would’ve gone without his help?”

“Don’t even wanna think about it,” you shuddered.

For how excruciating the thermodynamics midterm had been, it was more because of the psychological torture aspect than the difficulty of the content itself—though, its difficulty was nothing to sneeze at, either. The one positive that had come from this hellish experience was confirmation that choosing to study with Chan had undoubtedly been the right choice for you. Every topic you’d managed to review over the few meetings you’d had so far stayed fresh in your mind during the exam, so vividly that you could even recall the inflections in Chan’s voice whenever he’d sing his sentences at random. You weren’t sure if it was intentional, or if it was even something he was aware that he did, but you’d caught on to it right away.

Because his melodies helped you remember better, of course, not because you found it endearing.

“We really need to thank him,” Changbin bumped his head against yours. “Let’s bake him a cake.”

“You can’t even crack an egg.”

“Who told you that!?” he bolted upright, miraculously regaining his energy.

You kept your lips sealed, but it didn’t take long for him to narrow down the suspects.

“Minho…” he muttered. “Who the hell shares that story with someone they just met?”

“I agree that we should do something for Chan, though,” you tried to stay on topic before Changbin could get riled up about Minho. He was already sour on him after he’d bought replacement pudding cups as threatened, only to smugly be told that they were the wrong brand.

“I’ll think of something when my brain isn't fried.” Changbin shoved his hands in his pockets, looking contemplative for a second. “You never answered my question, y’know.”

“Hm?”

“About him being better looking than me.”

His words caught you so off guard that you actually stopped in your tracks, turning to give him a look of pure disbelief.

“Seo Changbin,” you said plainly. “You can’t be serious.”

“What?” his tone grew defensive. “This is important stuff! You’re supposed to be around the same level of attractiveness as your friends. It’s scientifically proven.”

You so badly wanted to hold your unimpressed stare, but it was impossible when the man in front of you was speaking without an ounce of shame.

“First of all,” you began. “I've told you a million times that it had nothing to do with his appearance.”

It was Changbin's turn to look unimpressed, but he waited for you to finish.

“Second of all, you’re a very handsome guy, Binnie,” you tacked on the nickname for maximum effectiveness. “So if I were to fall in love with anyone, it’d obviously be you.”

You truly meant the compliment, but a little extra flattery never hurt when it came to him. A wide, embarrassed smile spread across his face like clockwork, and he reached out to smack your shoulder, giggling at an unnaturally high pitch.

“Geez, don’t say it like that,” he complained. “I wasn't ready.”

You shook your head. “You’re so simple.”

For both Changbin’s peace of mind and your own, you hoped now that the issue would be dropped. You had enough confusing feelings about Chan already without Iseul and Changbin blowing things completely out of proportion.

“Wanna get some coffee?” you suggested. “There’s a really good kiosk on the first floor of the library.”

“I think I’m gonna head home and nap, actually. I’ve got another exam tonight.”

You let out a sympathetic hum. “That’s rough. Good luck, Bin.”

“Thanks,” he sighed dramatically. “Treat me for all my hard work once midterms are over.”

“Sure, I’ll even save up so I can afford your rich kid tastes.”

Changbin grinned at that. “On second thought,” he pulled his hand out of his coat pocket to reveal your pencil; his lucky charm. “You’ve given me more than enough.”

He attempted to pass it back to you, but you nudged his hand away gently.

“Keep it. Maybe it’ll help with your next exam.”

From there, you and Changbin said your goodbyes for the day. You decided to head to the coffee shop on your own, in desperate need of some kind of energy boost so you wouldn’t crash the instant you returned to your apartment.

As you made your way over to the campus library, your mind drifted back to Chan. It seemed to do that a lot, recently.

You wanted to do something to express your gratitude to him, but it was difficult to decide on what when you knew so little about the guy. Changbin could always help in that department, of course, but then there was the issue of actually getting Chan to accept it.

Despite not having walked nearly long enough to work up a sweat, you felt strangely heated when you approached the library entrance. Not only that, your hands were clammy, and you had to wipe your palm on your clothes before reaching out for the door handle. The warm, addictive scent of coffee flooded your senses as you entered the building. You almost connected your sudden rise in temperature to its cozy atmosphere—that was, until your eyes zeroed in on a figure seated at the table directly across from where you stood.

He was hunched over his laptop, consumed by his dark clothes so that he was hardly visible to anyone passing by, but you’d already reached a point where you could’ve recognized that side profile anywhere. A distinctive nose peeked out from behind the hood pulled over his head, thumb brushing over his lips as he concentrated on the screen before him.

Driven by an urge you couldn’t quite place, your feet drew you in his direction, and you had to force yourself to come to a sudden halt. He looked busy—exhausted, too—it was probably best to leave him alone.

Just as you turned to continue over to the coffee stand, dark eyes flickered up to find you, as if on cue. Recognition flooded his face, lighting up with a smile.

You gave him a small wave, and to your surprise, he gestured enthusiastically for you to come over to him. You adjusted the strap of your bag, feeling unusually self-conscious, like you’d given too much away with just your stare. Still, you steeled yourself and padded over to his table.

“Hey!” Chan removed his headphones, hood slipping off along with them. “I was just thinking of you.”

You blinked. “You were?”

“Yeah, you and Bin had your exam today, didn’t you?”

“Oh, right. He just headed home, actually.”

He pulled out the chair next to his, inviting you to take it. You hesitated for a moment before accepting, giving him a grateful nod.

As you settled in next to him, it dawned on you that this was the first time you’d ever seen him without some kind of hat or beanie on his head. You hadn't even known that his hair was curly. It felt akin to a crime to have been robbed of the sight; soft, brown ringlets falling just above his eyes and swooping out at his nape, almost like the tail of a duck.

“How’d it go?” He tilted his head curiously. “Alright, I hope?”

“Well, let’s just say I understand why you switched majors.”

Chan’s laughter filled your ears, a blissful compensation for the past two hours you’d just had. He reached out to tap your shoulder lightly as he giggled, and you weren’t sure why it made your heartbeat pick up.

“That bad, huh?”

“It would’ve gone a lot worse without your help,” you confessed. “Thanks again for studying with us, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, of course!” Chan chirped. “I’m glad to help.”

“Are you sure there’s really nothing I can do in return? I hope you’re not holding back just ‘cause I’m Changbin’s friend.”

You were careful to ask a second time after your failed attempt at convincing him to accept some kind of payment—favor, anything—during your first study session. Just as Changbin had predicted, he’d brushed you off with a polite smile, insisting that it was the least he could do. Despite your best efforts, you’d ultimately stopped pressing the issue to avoid coming off as too pushy.

Chan waved his hand, dismissive, yet again. “Nah, you don’t have to worry about that. It’s no trouble at all!”

“How about I buy you a coffee?” You motioned in the direction of the kiosk. “Just one cup, and I’ll stop nagging.”

“Ah.” He scrunched up his nose in distaste. “Sorry, I don’t really drink it.”

You stared, waiting for some kind of indication that he was just messing with you, but it never came. Suddenly, his perpetually worn-out state made perfect sense.

“A college student who doesn’t drink coffee? They should study you.”

He grinned, looking a bit embarrassed. “If you need me as the subject for your research next semester, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” you giggled. “But then I’d owe you double.”

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, and you tried not to focus on the way his thumb came to run over his full lips again. You’d never seen lips shaped like his before; when you looked closely enough, they resembled a soft-edged heart.

“How about this? Give me your number and we’ll call it even.”

Your mouth nearly fell open. You hadn’t pegged him as the type.

“That way, we can say we’re officially friends,” he continued, completely oblivious to your shock. “And helping out a friend is normal, yeah?”

Friends. It was odd to hear him say that. You weren’t really sure if you could consider someone you’d spent just a handful of hours with your friend, but for what it was worth, he seemed to be speaking sincerely.

Your brief moment of panic melted away. Another case of unintentional flirtatiousness on his part, after all. It was relieving, in a way, because you could only imagine the effect someone like him might have on people if only he knew how to utilize his charm.

“Alright, you win. Just a warning, though, I’m not the best texter.”

“Me neither,” he admitted. “But if you ever need anything or wanna chat, I’ll be there!”

As you exchanged phone numbers, every one of your instincts called for you to be suspicious of Chan, to believe that, surely, he must have some kind of ulterior motive behind his eagerness to befriend you. But you knew what ill-intent looked like by now,—you’d be a fool if you didn’t—and there was none behind his eyes, just an honest desire to help in any way that he could.

It was almost foreign to you, something you’d never really seen in any other person but one.

“There! You’re debt-free.” Chan handed your phone back to you. He’d taken it upon himself to add a wolf emoji next to his contact name, and you shot him an amused look.

“My friends say it reminds them of me,” his voice turned a bit sheepish, as if realizing how silly it felt to say out loud.

You softened. “That’s cute.”

“You think so?” He reached up to fiddle with his piercing, and you noticed for the first time how red the tip of his ear had become. Probably a side effect of his concerning levels of body heat. “What should I put next to yours?”

“A flame?” you joked. “So you can remember me as the girl who sucks at thermo.”

Chan flexed his fingers. “I like it,” he giggled.

You stole a glance at his laptop as he edited your contact, met with a sea of sound waves, audio files, and incomprehensible icons taking up his screen.

“So, were you working on something?”

He perked up. “Oh, yeah! Just messing around with some sounds, really.”

You leaned in a bit closer despite not understanding much of what you were looking at. Even with your lack of expertise, you could see that whatever he was doing was more than just messing around.

“Is it for a class?” your interest piqued. “Or for 3RACHA?”

Chan’s breath hitched, loud enough for you to hear, and you wondered for a moment if you’d said something wrong.

“You know about that?”

“Bin’s shown me a few songs! You guys are really good.”

He ducked his head, the flush on his ears creeping up to paint his cheeks the same shade. Oh. He really had been flustered the entire time. It excited you more than it probably should have.

“Ah, thank you,” he chuckled breathlessly. “Sorry, I’m just a little caught off guard, I think.”

You considered changing the subject for the sake of his comfort. What he said next, however, quickly quelled any concerns you had. “Which one did you like the most?”

He lifted his gaze shyly, looking so hungry for approval that you made a mental note to ask him more about his music in the future.

“Zone!” you didn’t miss a beat. “I especially love the lines in Māori.”

His face broke out into a grin so wide that his eyes almost squeezed shut from sheer happiness. “I sing that part,” he beamed.

Of course he did. You tried to imagine it—the bubbly, unassuming boy in front of you delivering lines with such power and confidence. It intrigued you, just like everything else about him. From the first day Changbin had described him to you, he was like a puzzle that you were determined to collect all the pieces of, to bring your understanding of him to completion.

Your original goal in coming to the library now long forgotten, the two of you stayed at his table for at least another hour, chatting about all sorts of things. You learned that while all three members of 3RACHA had a hand in composing and songwriting (a fact that you made note of for future, Changbin-teasing purposes) Chan played the biggest role when it came to arrangement. With a bit of prompting on your part, he gave in and showed you a snippet of what he’d been working on before you arrived.

Placebo was the working title. It had a hopeful, upbeat melody that made you feel light and strangely nostalgic. There were no lyrics yet—Chan was still waiting on Jisung, the final third of the boys, to finish up his parts. As it turned out, he was the wide-eyed, messy-haired junior you’d spotted hanging around Changbin all those instances over the years, and one of the first people that Chan had befriended upon moving from Australia. How they’d come to meet when Chan was three years older than him, you had no idea, but you figured this guy could become best friends with his prison guard if he really wanted to, so it didn’t seem worth questioning.

Even with its half-finished instrumental and lack of lyrics, you could already sense a potential new favorite in Placebo. Though, if you were being honest, given the expression on Chan’s face as he played it for you—earnest and giddy and biting his fist in anticipation—you might've said the same regardless of which song it was.

“Do you really like it?” He kept his eyes on the screen, but you could see the glee plastered on his face.

“I do! It makes me happy.” You slipped his headphones off and passed them back to him. “You have to show me when it’s finished, okay?”

It didn’t seem possible, but his smile grew, cheeks rising and dimples flashing. “Okay, promise.”

He held out his pinky to seal the deal. You hesitated, wincing inwardly when you remembered what had happened the last time your skin touched his. Even so, you were determined not to fumble another interaction with him, and you braced yourself before hooking your fingers together.

The heat was still very much there, though not quite as drastic as before. It didn’t jolt through your nerve-endings like it had when you’d first met; instead, it kindled at your point of contact and spread steadily along your skin, from your pinky to your palm until it warmed your entire body. Gentle and intense, all at once.

Chan looked like he had something to say, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, your phone buzzed to life on the table. Reluctantly, you unlaced your pinky from his and reached for the device, unsurprised when you saw Iseul’s name in glowing white letters.

“Sorry, one sec,” you excused yourself, knowing that if you didn’t take her call now, many more were to come.

“Hello?” your voice came out winded, and you swallowed hard to steady it.

“Are you busy?”

Your eyes darted to Chan. He’d turned his attention back to his laptop, humming quietly to himself.

“Kinda, is everything alright?”

“Oh,” she paused. “What’s up?”

“Just in the library,” you left out the fact that you were with Chan, not keen on fueling her newfound desire for matchmaking.

“I need help planning my schedule for next semester,” she sounded stressed, but you knew by now that even the most easily-solved of problems could be the end of the world in her eyes. “Literally none of these marketing sections work for me and I need this credit to graduate. I’m going fucking crazy trying to move my other classes around.”

There was no excuse for you to say no, other than the fact that academics were the last thing you wanted to think about after the midterm you’d just had. That, and, you were enjoying your time with Chan more than you’d like to admit.

“Alright, I can help you figure it out. I’ll just need some time to get to your place.”

"You’re the best,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “Hurry, please.”

At that, she hung up, probably to get right back to abusing her laptop’s trackpad with furious clicks. You slipped your phone into your pocket, and when you began gathering up your belongings, Chan’s gaze shifted back to you.

“Heading out?”

“Yeah,” you wished you didn’t feel so wistful about it. “My friend needs help with her fall schedule, she’s kinda freaking out.”

A knowing look crossed his face, lip twitching with the faintest hint of amusement. It wasn’t lost on you, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he hummed. “Just think I understand now why you wanted to repay me so bad.”

You had half a mind to be taken aback, but it felt strangely expected of him, like you’d known that such a minor detail would be enough for him to catch on. That tendency you’d noticed from the first day you’d met him, making itself known more and more each time you crossed paths.

“Think you’re the only one who can do people favors?”

“Course not,” his smile mirrored yours. “I hope things work out with your friend.”

“Thanks.” You rose from your spot, wondering briefly if you should say what was on your mind before parting ways with him. “It was nice talking with you.”

“You, too.” He held up his phone, wiggling it around as a reminder. “We’ll talk more soon!”

In the end, you left the library without a single drop of caffeine in your system, yet somehow, you felt more energized than ever.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Six weeks and several study sessions later, you had come to make two more very important realizations about Bang Christopher Chan.

The first being, that he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d warned you about his texting habits. You’d always thought you were bad at responding in a timely manner, hell, you’d thought Changbin was bad; but when Chan said he wasn’t the best texter, he didn’t just mean that he could be dry or slow or forgetful, he meant that most of the time, he simply didn’t text at all.

Instead, he liked to call.

You didn’t really mind—you tended to prefer talking to people over texting, anyway, but you’d admittedly been stunned when, after a week of radio silence following your encounter in the library, he’d contacted you out of the blue for no reason other than to “catch up”. No warning, no opening text, just an unexpected call that ended up stretching into a thirty minute conversation before you had to hang up and head to your next class. Another short period of no contact, and then, it had happened again. This time, just a few days following your first chat.

His calls, you’d also noticed as time went on, sometimes came at the most ungodly hours of the night. Once or twice, you’d woken up in the morning to find a missed call notification followed by an apologetic text a few hours later.

chan 🐺 (5:23 a.m.) sorry haha, didn’t realize how late it was

It left you perplexed as to when this man ever got a wink of sleep.

Even with your conversations being so sporadic, you found yourself looking forward to them regardless. He always had something interesting to share with you, from stories about people he’d met and the places he’d been, to music discussions and recommendations, to a vast array of space knowledge that he seemed to have neatly filed away in his brain. He talked about space a lot, like it was his friend. The moon, especially. It was undoubtedly your favorite topic of conversation, not only because it was a shared interest, but because the pure wonder and adoration with which he spoke of it stirred a warmth inside you like no other.

On top of all that, he always made an effort to check in with things on your end as well—in fact, it was always the first thing he asked about the moment you’d pick up, which might have been the most confusing detail of all. He was simultaneously the most absent and the most attentive communicator you’d ever met.

Once it had been made apparent to you that this routine may very well become commonplace with Chan, your curiosity had piqued enough for you to finally question him about it. His explanation, however, almost had you wishing you’d never asked, because nothing could’ve prepared you for his simple, sincere, “It’s just nice to hear your voice, y’know?”

That led into your second, more troubling realization. Somewhere along the line, you seemed to have developed a bit of a soft spot for Chan.

It had dawned on you some weeks ago, when the two of you had visited a new ice cream shop near campus that you’d mentioned was your favorite. When you’d recommended the place to him, you’d never once considered that he would take it as a suggestion for you to accompany him in trying it out. In the end, he’d ordered not one, not two, but all three of the signature flavors you told him you liked the most, detailing his thoughts about each one, with plenty of delighted hums and vocalizations in the process. Much to your horror, you’d listened to him chat passionately away with the most hopelessly endeared, involuntary smile on your face, knowing right then and there that your fate was sealed.

For that reason, your limited interaction with him was more like a blessing in disguise to you. The moment you’d discovered just how often your thoughts seemed to be preoccupied with him, your first instinct had been to distance yourself, to cut off all unnecessary contact until the pesky, ever-present daydream of his melodic laughter was forcibly expelled from your brain. Your regular meetings with him and Changbin, however, had made your efforts increasingly difficult, and you couldn’t shake the fear that, with how naturally Chan seemed to tune in to your emotions, it was only a matter of time before he noticed you behaving differently around him.

Today brought with it another moment of reckoning, another test of your resolve in the form of a two hour study session. You’d managed to get by the last few without any major slip-ups, making you especially grateful that Changbin was around to ensure you behaved more like your usual self.

bin 😑 (5:36 p.m.) oh, i forgot to tell you i can’t make it today

You stared down at your phone in disbelief, nearly coming to a halt in the middle of the road.

You’d texted Changbin this morning to double check that you were still on for studying this evening, even making sure to reach out hours in advance so he could reply before it was too late. Clearly, you’d have to give him at least a day’s notice from now on, because you were just a minute away from his complex when he’d decided to graciously inform you that he wouldn’t be coming.

you (5:36 p.m.) are u serious??? i’m almost at your place

bin 😑 (5:38 p.m.) sorry sorry it’s game night w/ minho and jisung lol. but chan’s home dw

you (5:38 p.m.) game night...you do realize this is for the final right? why isn’t chan with you guys?

bin 😑 (5:39 p.m.) relax mom i’ll come to the next one ;;; and he said he’s fine studying w/ you instead

A sense of dread twisted in your stomach. Regardless of how kind-hearted Chan was, you knew there was absolutely no chance in hell he would’ve preferred to stay home on a Friday night, tutoring you on the most demonic subjects known to man, while his friends hung out without him.

bin 😑 (5:40 p.m.) are you mad ㅜ

you (5:41 p.m.) ur a bad kid

bin 😑 (5:41 p.m.) huuuu ㅜㅜ

you (5:42 p.m.) i’m just gonna head home and tell chan we should reschedule

bin 😑 (5:42 p.m.) noooo don’t do that chan doesn’t care i promise lol

bin 😑 (5:43 p.m.) he probably prefers it this way tbh

You paused, hand resting uncertainly on the stairway railing.

you (5:44 p.m.) what do you mean?

A minute passed, then another, and still no response. You huffed, assuming you’d reached your Changbin text quota for the day, and you locked your phone irritably. If Chan was expecting you, you supposed you had no choice.

It’s not a big deal, probably. You told yourself as you trudged up the stairs. Still, it felt like one. The prospect of being alone with him stressed you out as much as it excited you. No long-distance advantage of a phone call, no Changbin serving as a bridge between the two of you; just you versus Chan and his accidental charm for the next two hours.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door of unit 8-325. You wondered briefly if he’d even heard, considering his headphones were virtually glued to his ears most of the time, but you didn’t get the chance to worry much about it before the door swung open, much sooner than you’d expected.

“Hi!” he greeted cheerfully. “How’ve you been?”

No hoodie on today. It made sense, given how much the weather had warmed up, but you personally felt that the muscle tank he had on instead wasn’t really necessary. His curls were out, too.

So, it was safe to say you weren’t doing well.

“Powering through the end of the semester,” you flashed a quick smile, shuffling inside and slipping off your shoes. “You?”

Chan shut the door with a noise of sympathy. “Same here.”

Your eyes scanned over the apartment. It felt undeniably empty without Changbin’s steady, familiar presence next to you or without Minho slinking back and forth between his room and the kitchen, making sure to cause as many distractions as possible each time he did.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out. “Changbin just told me that he wasn’t coming. If you wanna do this another night and go hang out with the others, that’s totally fine.”

He looked surprised for a moment, turning to look at you properly. “It's all good! They’ve been obsessed with that game for weeks, I got kinda sick of it, anyway.”

“Oh,” you frowned.

Chan sensed that you were still unconvinced—of course he did—and he gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here because I wanna be.”

You knew it wasn’t his intention, but your heart still skipped a beat.

“That’s what I’m so confused about, I guess.”

He simply chuckled in response, as if that were enough to explain himself. Despite your lingering concerns, you decided not to press the issue any further, and you made your way over to the kitchen table as usual to set down your bag. You realized a moment too late that you had chosen the chair right next to where his laptop was placed. Just as you were debating whether or not you could get away with switching before he noticed, he slipped into the spot next to you, blissfully unaware of the impact it’d have on your psyche for the rest of the hour.

“I’m glad you came,” he commented, setting up his own study materials. “Feels like it’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

You wondered if that was his way of letting you know that he felt you’d been avoiding him. Well, avoiding was a bit of a stretch. More like limiting your exposure, taking him in moderation so you wouldn’t get addicted.

“It does,” you agreed. “And not just ‘cause you disappear off the face of the earth when I don’t see you in person.”

“Hey, hey!” It was defensive, but good-natured as ever. “I’m just not much of a phone guy.”

“Right, you’re more of a laptop guy.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

“Speaking of,” you gestured to the device in question. “Have you made any progress on Placebo?”

He perked up, visibly brightening at your mention of the song. “A bit,” he chirped. “Actually, I rearranged some parts of it.”

“Oh?”

Chan’s eyes twinkled, and you got the feeling that something mischievous was brewing in his mind. “Not gonna show you yet, though.”

“And break our promise?” you feigned hurt.

“Our promise was for me to show you when it’s finished, yeah?” his grin was far too proud, like he’d been waiting for his chance to pull something like this. It was a newer side of him you hadn’t quite gotten used to yet—playful, cheeky.

“The fine print, huh?” you clicked your tongue in defeat. “Alright, you win.”

“That’s two for me, so far.”

With the way he giggled, it felt more like a win for you.

A good half hour had passed before the two of you began any actual studying, and it wouldn’t have bothered you—not in the slightest—if you weren’t already concerned about taking up too much of Chan’s evening. It didn’t help that he seemed to be a bit unfocused today as well, prone to veering off topic even more so than usual and leaving his attempts at explaining the material harder to follow than ever.

He pressed his lips together into an uncertain line, squinting at his laptop screen as he tried to make sense of the application of Sommerfeld expansion. Absent-mindedly, he crossed an arm over his chest to cup his neck, biceps bulging in the process. You’d learned from your talks with him that he was a swimmer, but you hadn’t quite expected him to look like that beneath the oversized jackets and hoodies that he wore so religiously. It was hard not to stare, to admire every toned curve and vein that protruded ever so slightly when he flexed his muscles.

You wondered what it’d be like to touch them; if they were as firm and powerful as they looked, or if they were surprisingly much softer, just like his demeanor. You also wondered how they might look beneath you, held down by your grasp.

“Sorry,” he sighed at last, bringing you back to your senses. “I’m not really sure about this one.”

You tore your eyes away from his arms, face heating up despite not being caught. “No worries.” You put your pen down. “Do you wanna take a break? I feel like we’re both kinda out of it tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He looked relieved, and a bit self-conscious. “To be honest, I barely even understood this stuff when I was an astrophysics major.”

It was an offhand comment, but it caught your attention. You’d admittedly begun to assume as much after your second or third study group under his guidance, given the way consulted outside sources so often, but to have it confirmed brought about a whole new level of respect for Chan. And, maybe something else.

“Have you been learning thermo all over again just for me and Bin?”

His gaze fell, as if realizing in alarm that he’d inadvertently exposed himself to you. “You could say that,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I actually think I’m studying more now than I ever did when I took this class.”

A part of you wasn’t sure whether or not to be bothered that you’d been tutored by someone who wasn’t exactly qualified for the past month and a half. But no matter how badly his act of selflessness could have ended up for all three of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but affection for the boy. Well, that, and a bit of guilt for even putting him in this position in the first place. He’d gone out of his way to re-teach himself concepts that were by no means easy to grasp, solely for the sake of helping you and Changbin out. And he had. You knew for a fact that you’d not only seen improvement in your scores since meeting him, but in your confidence in the subject as a whole.

“You’re seriously too nice for your own good,” you murmured.

He reached up for his ear, tugging at his piercing. “It’s nothing, really.”

“It’s not,” you said firmly. “Not many people would do that, especially for a stranger. So, thank you.”

“Of course,” his voice was light. “We’re friends, after all.”

“Right.”

Friends. The first time he’d said it, you’d been doubtful—both in regards to whether or not you could actually call yourselves friends, and in his intentions in doing so. Hearing it now, you felt just as strange about it, but not for the same reasons. You could safely say you were friends, that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was, you wanted to be more.

“Did you like astrophysics?” you asked the question before you had the chance to say something else, something far more stupid.

“I did,” he sounded genuine, but tense. “Well, for the most part. It just felt like the most…practical thing I could do, y’know?”

“Can I ask why you changed majors?”

It was a detail that had been nagging away at the back of your mind since Changbin had first mentioned it to you. You weren’t sure why it felt so important to know, like an essential piece of the puzzle.

Chan paused, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. It barely lasted a second, but it instantly had you wishing you’d curbed your curiosity and said nothing at all.

“It’s kinda a long story,” he said slowly. You could tell he was trying to sound casual about it. His body language, however, was more than enough for you to see that he wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible. “I guess it was just something I needed to do at the time.”

“I understand,” you decided to drop it, for his sake. “No need to get into it, if you don’t want to.”

He gave you a grateful smile. “Some other time, yeah? Can’t be telling you my life story when I’m supposed to be helping you prepare for finals.”

You hummed softly in agreement, and just like that, the atmosphere was relaxed again.

Still, the question lingered in your mind.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

It was inevitable to you, at this point, that any and all sense of time would be lost whenever you and Chan got to talking. What you’d intended to be just a short break from studying to recharge, eventually morphed into another hour and a half of you two chatting away—with a few failed attempts to get back to work here and there. That was why, when the clock struck 9:00 p.m. to mark your third hour with him, you were hardly surprised.

“Why don’t I walk you home? It’s late.”

You tried to ignore the way his offer made your stomach flip.

“Oh, no you don’t have to.” The words were out of your mouth like an instinct. It was tempting, so, so tempting, but you knew that any more exposure to Chan was sure to make your soft spot for him develop into something much more troublesome. “It's a pretty far walk.”

He tilted his head, confused as to why the distance was even worth mentioning.

“Ohh, I see,” his voice took on that same, unfamiliar quality from before. “You don’t wanna spend any more time with me, is that it?”

You blinked, scanning his face for some sign of hurt or offense. Instead, all you found was a playful smile, eyes crinkling and dimples flashing.

He was teasing you.

“You got me,” you played along, throwing your bag dramatically over your shoulder. “I only spend my Friday nights studying thermo with people I can’t stand.”

Chan giggled. It was shy and cute; the giggle of someone completely unaware of how enamored with him you really were.

“In that case, making me walk there and back shouldn’t be a problem, right? Since you hate me so much.”

You relented. It was a losing battle from the start, anyway.

The air had grown a bit chillier after sunset, which, much to your relief, meant Chan had thrown on a jacket and covered up his criminally distracting arms. You felt a strange sense of peace as the two of you strolled along the sidewalk out of his apartment phase, stealing glances at him as often as the streetlights would allow. He had his hands in his pockets, swinging them with each step he took and swaying his head along with the breeze that brushed through his curls.

It was hopeless. You were so hopelessly taken by him.

“There she is,” you remarked, slowing your pace to gaze upwards. “That moon you love so much.”

It reflected a pure, white light among the sea of stars, owning the sky in all its Waning Gibbous glory.

“Beautiful,” you heard Chan murmur.

You looked over at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his eyes illuminated by the moon as he stared up in awe. Instead, you found him staring right at you.

He seemed taken aback for a moment. Even so, for once, he didn’t look away. He simply smiled.

Warmth spread through your chest, and you knew this time you couldn’t blame it on his body heat.

“I think you have us both beat,” you said softly.

At that, he broke eye contact. He ducked his head with a shy puff of laughter, pressing his cheek into his shoulder to hide his face. You rode the high of it for the rest of your walk home together.

The two of you were mostly quiet as you neared your apartment complex, letting the silence hang comfortably around you. Despite the long walk, neither of you were in any particular hurry, and when you approached the front gate of your building, you couldn’t help but feel that the time had slipped away from you all too quickly.

“Thanks again for walking me home,” you murmured. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he grinned.

Your hand rested tentatively on the handle, not yet wanting this moment to end.

“Not gonna try to return the favor, are you?” His eyes sparkled in the low light. Even when he was messing with you, he still sounded seconds away from becoming flustered himself.

You smiled. “I’ve got something in mind.”

Before he could say anything else, and before you could second guess yourself, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was quick and innocent, but it made his breath catch in his throat all the same.

When you pulled back, Chan’s fingers came to hover over the spot your lips had been moments ago. You wished the lighting in the hallway was stronger, so that you could fully see the furious blush that you knew was spreading across his face.

His eyes flickered down to your lips. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to for you to hear him willing you to do it, begging you to do it.

So, you leaned in again and kissed him.

The heat that surged through you was different this time. It didn’t make you flinch or jolt back in alarm; it drew you in. However soft you’d imagined Chan’s lips to be—plush and heart-shaped and irresistible—the reality was infinitely softer.

Your hands reached up to cup his face. His warmth fed into yours, and vice versa, and somewhere in the back of your mind, it became clear that the fire had been coming from both of you this entire time. He sighed sweetly into the kiss, tilting his head forward, trying somehow to deepen it even further, like he wouldn’t satisfied until you were completely melded together.

The two of you might have stayed that way if your lungs hadn’t begun to cry for air. Reluctantly, you pulled away, leaving you both breathless and longing for each other’s warmth again. All the efforts you’d made to hold yourself back around him seemed so laughable now. You didn’t want him in moderation, you wanted all of him.

Chan’s eyes fluttered open, dark and dazed. The sight made you want to pull him inside with you, to take him apart bit by bit and put him back together again, over and over until you knew him inside and out.

Instead, you brushed your thumb over his burning cheek, touch harboring a gentleness that masked the ache inside you.

“Get home safe, Channie,” you whispered.

#bang chan x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #skz x you

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

Text

kinktober !

kink: pegging

pairing: seo changbin x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

pegging: in which someone penetrates another person's anus, usually with a strap-on dildo.

Excited was an understatement.

You were well-known. When you’d first started, you’d only been a camgirl recruited by the agency and had never had sex with another person on camera. It was liberating managing to do that, and even more liberating when the money started flowing in. You started having sex with bigger and bigger stars, and the amounts of money got unbelievable. However, today was the day you’d been waiting for.

Seo Changbin was another star in your agency. You hadn’t gotten the chance to film with him yet, because your schedules were always too packed, but you were a resident viewer of his videos. He wasn’t quite dominant, more of a passionate lover when he put his co-stars in a headlock with his muscled arms, but it made your clit throb nonetheless. You couldn’t wait to have him.

Except, not everything worked out the way you’d expected - that’s not to say it wasn’t in your favour. The agency had decided on a Halloween shoot, two of their biggest stars fucking on camera while dressed up in some raunchy costumes. You’d heard the premise and agreed on the script, but when you heard the plans they had for you… well, that was really a game changer.

A Playboy bunny skit was one thing, but a skit where you weren’t the bunny, but Changbin was? Now, that intrigued you. It had you flipping through the script to imagine it differently. He’d be in a pretty little black bodysuit, pushing those muscled pecs up and with cute ears perched on his head atop a headband. It sounded perfect. All you had to do was play the part of his dominant, the woman who was going to fuck his brains out with her biggest strap-on. It was easy.

It didn’t seem easy when you saw him. You thought you were going to go insane. Prior to the shoot, you’d been put in a pink satin dressing gown, soft ivory cotton adorning the wrists and the hemline. Obviously, you had nothing on underneath, and Changbin stood by the doorway to your dressing room, all muscled arms bulging over his bodysuit and a cut-out in the fabric showing some very appealing cleavage. Your jaw dropped.

“Hi,” He was shy, embarrassed despite bouncing over to you like he really was a little bunny. His ears shifted and he huffed, pressing the headband down onto his dark, curly hair. Your makeup artist fiddled around with your own hair, trying to get it perfect for the shoot. “I thought I’d introduce myself. We’ve never really crossed paths. I’m Changbin.”

You licked your lips, nodding to ground yourself. Be yourself. Be cheeky, be nice. “Hello. It’s so nice to meet you. It looks like we’ll be co-stars today, huh? Are you excited?” Damn, did you have to sound so formal?

Changbin hopped from one foot to the other, eventually settling on crossing his broad arms over his just-as-broad chest. “I’m a little nervous, to be honest. I’ve, uh… I’ve bottomed before, been pegged and whatever, but never on camera. I guess I just wanted to ask you to go easy on me.”

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” You blurted. Even your makeup artist paused. Changbin’s eyes widened. “No. No, what I meant was, like- you look good. You look hot, Changbin. I’d be lucky to peg you. I am- I am lucky to peg you.”

It’s just sinking in. You’re going to peg him, and you’re terrified you’re going to cum untouched. You’ve already forgotten the script.

“Oh! Heh,” He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, staring at the floor with a smug, downturned grin. “Right. You’re hot too, by the way. Really hot. I’ve been looking forward to shooting with you, and since I found out the premise, well… I’ve kinda been looking forward to it even more. Is that weird?”

“Not weird at all, me too,” You gushed. Changbin finally reverted his eyes to you, a real, toothy smile adorning his face when he saw how excited you really were. “Have you- um, have you… y’know. Prepped?”

Changbin blushed, a crimson shade covering his cheeks. He was so cute, you thought you were going to have a heart attack before the cameras even switched on. “It’s a surprise. You’ll like it. The surprise, I mean.”

“I’ll like everything else, too,” You nodded solemnly. Changbin giggled, a chiming overtaking the room. You blinked when he turned around and bounced out of your dressing room, and your makeup artist sounded like she was choking back a laugh. You groaned. “Don’t.”

She grinned. “I didn’t say anything, honey.”

When you arrived at the set, Changbin was already there. The set was cute, at least, fairy lights adorning the walls and bed sheets a blush baby pink. He looked cute too, laying on the bed scrolling through his phone as if he wasn’t dressed like the best bunny you’ve ever seen. You fucking loved Halloween.

You crawled onto the bed regardless, making Changbin jump and drop his phone. “Hi again,” You murmured, one finger running down his side. He jolted, giggling like it tickled him. “You really do look cute, Changbin.”

“Bin is fine. Even- even Binnie. I prefer Binnie-”

“Alright, quit the flirting,” Hyunjin chirped. Hyunjin was the best director you’d worked with. He didn’t mind if you went off-script, so long as it was all authentic and real. No fake orgasms, obviously. The sex had to look like art. Jeongin was his cameraman, and when you first met him, he’d been awkward and blushy - now, he looked at you with indifference apart from a cute grin on his pouty lips. You were so proud. “I know we sent you the script, but I’ve changed my mind. I want you to just kiss first, be natural, lead into whatever. Sounds good?”

That was another thing about Hyunjin. He loved to change the plans. You nodded, before briefly looking around the room. “Where’s the dick?”

“What do you mean?” Jeongin questioned, looking at Changbin. His eyes ran down to his crotch. “It’s there.”

“No, the strap-on, you idiot,” You huffed. Hyunjin giggled, before nodding towards the floor. Oh. There it was, clear as day, a bright pink strap-on that looked way too big to fit into someone comfortably. You hoped Changbin’s surprise helped him out with that.

Unsurprisingly, it did. Changbin rolled over onto his tummy and shook his ass at you teasingly with a grin, and you caught sight of a white fluffy bunny tail sticking out of a hole in his bodysuit. Oh. Oh, right. It’s a plug.

“Are you kidding me?” You gasped, reaching down to immediately grab it. Changbin jolted, eyes widening, and you took your chance. You yanked his face towards yours, pressing your lips against his in a dirty exchange of lips, teeth and spit. You briefly recognised Hyunjin and Jeongin mumbling to each other, and then the cameras switched on. You pushed Changbin back, letting his toned back rest on the bed and then you were in his lap, ignoring his whine at feeling the plug pressing in further.

You kept kissing him, unable to stop. His lips were so saccharinely sweet, and you could feel one folded-up bunny ear from his headband tickling your head. His tongue darted around your mouth and he let his hands grab at your waist, clothed erection grinding up into your naked pussy. You pulled away, smirking at him as you ran your fingers through his hair affectionately, before standing up and walking away. The cameras stayed on, recording every step you took as you crossed the room to examine your strap. You had to get to the point, or you’d be kissing him forever.

“The plug’s very cute, bunny, but do you want something bigger?” You muse, running your finger over the strap. Changbin nods, lips kiss bitten as he looks at you with teary eyes. “You want my strap, baby?”

“Y-Yeah. I- Hnng. I want your cock, please, mommy,” Changbin gushed, thick thighs spreading to allow you between them. You could see the bulge of his cock, hard and fat and pressing against the black satin of the bodysuit. You raised an eyebrow, however. The mommy kink was definitely not in the script - was he this far gone already?

You smiled and let yourself get back on the bed, strap in hand. You moved your free hand to his side, thumb tracing across his clothed hip bone. "Mommy’s going to give you what you want, sweetheart, you don’t need to beg.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his once more and guided his mouth open with your tongue. You pulled away, letting out a low hum of arousal as he watched you with anticipation. Changbin’s eyes stayed glued to you, and you ignored the wetness accumulating on your folds as you let the pink robe drop, fully naked underneath. Your nipples were pebbled against the cold air, and Changbin’s gaze dropped to them, eyes widening.

“You like them, baby? Maybe you can suck on them while mommy fucks you nice and deep, yeah?” Changbin nodded, reaching out to you to pull you on top of him. You pressed your hand on his tummy softly, pressing him to the bed to calm him down. “I have to get the strap on, baby. Why don’t you take that bodysuit off for me?”

God, that was the best sentence that ever left your mouth. Changbin wriggled out of his bodysuit and he was left naked, all muscled, honey-toned skin revealed to you. His nipples were hard upon his broad chest, dark dusky peaks that begged to have your tongue running circles over them. His cock was hard against his soft tummy, short and thick and anticipating some attention - but your eyes immediately went to his cheeks. The plug stayed firmly inside his tight hole, fluffy material peeking out from tanned planes of skin. He really was the best bunny you’d ever seen.

Once the strap was firmly set on your hips, bright pink silicone alarming to the eye, you reached down to play with the plug inside his hole. He jolted, whining and spreading his thick thighs further for you, cock twitching in desperation.

“Please, please,” He huffed, chest heaving. “Please, mommy. I need something bigger, need something bigger in there, ‘s not enough, bunny needs-”

You cooed, running your thumb over his cheekbone. “Okay, okay. I’ve got you, bunny, spread nice and wide for me.”

He obliged, letting his thighs hang over his hands in a pliant, open position, and then you reached down to pull the fluffy pom-pom tail out of his hole. It slipped out, still slick with lube, and you groaned lowly at the sight.

“C’mere,” You ushered Changbin, and when he moved to come closer, you let the fake cock hang in his face. “Spit on it, bunny. We’ve got to get it wet or it’ll hurt, huh?”

Changbin moaned, nodding with urgency, and then he was sucking the tip past his lips. Oh. That’s not what you meant, but you were absolutely loving the view. He sucked half of the length into his mouth, moaning around the silicone as if it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He was putting on a show for the cameras, you realised - you’d honestly forgotten they were there, too engrossed in the pretty bunny on display for you on this set.

You pulled the strap out of Changbin’s mouth, slapping the head a few times on his full, doll-like lips, before you were moving backwards to press it against his hole. The tip pushed in with no resistance, stretching his tight, little hole back out around the silicone. It was the rest of it that was an issue - Changbin thrashed around as the flared shaft entered him, stretching him further than the plug did and making him whine.

“‘S- ‘S big, mommy, bunny feels so good,” He huffed, cheeks blazing red. You could tell he’d lost all sense of coherence, and you understood why he’d never bottomed before on camera. He got way too into it. It stopped being porn, and started being more authentic - but then, Hyunjin liked that after all. You let your hips start to move against him, slapping against his skin, and he whined with approval.

You had to amp up the ante, though. “You’re like a bunny in heat, Binnie,” You mused, positioning yourself on your forearms above him. Changbin moaned, a guttural noise that made your pussy clench sadly around nothing. Maybe you could convince him to fuck you again after this, off camera. You thrusted into him a few more times before pulling out, making him whine at the loss. “Come and ride me. Hop on my cock like a good bunny, yeah?”

Once you were positioned on your back, Changbin scrambled to press his hole above your strap. In this position, you could see him properly, bunny ears askew and his cute cock bouncing against his tummy. He gasped as he sunk down on your strap again, the fake cock filling him up beyond belief.

“Oh. Oh, mommy, ‘s deep, deep, pressing against my, my-“ He cut himself off with a whine, hands coming to rest on your tits while he bounced. You cooed softly, hand rubbing over his thighs where they clenched with the exertion. He was quite literally bouncing like a bunny - he couldn’t stop his own movements, bunny ears flopping over his eyes and whines flooding out of his mouth. “It’s never felt this good. Oh, God, it feels so good, I need’a cum. Need to, oh, bunny needs to-“

“Ssh, ssh,” You mumbled, hand wrapping around his cock. It leaked beneath his foreskin, drippy and pearlescent as you started to pump it with a tight fist. You wanted him so bad - but this was about him. The cameras too, which you had forgotten about again. “Cum for me then. Cum on my tits, bunny, c’mon.”

Changbin wailed, hands moving to find purchase on your thighs. The change in position had him bouncing quicker, and you accompanied it with pumps of his cock at the same pace.

“G’na cum for mommy,” He mumbled, cheeks blazing crimson. It took two more bounces and you rubbed your thumb over his slit. When he keened, fingernails digging into your skin, you took that as your cue and aimed his cockhead at your tits. “Cumming! Bunny’s cumming, cumming, fuck!”

You watched in awe as his cock spurted out thick ropes of white cum, smothering your tits in the warm liquid. He gasped and writhed on the strap through his orgasm, hips slowing to a soft grind and eyebrows furrowing. You pumped him a few more times, letting him ride out his orgasm, and then you let his softening cock go for some reprieve. With one finger, you swept up his cum from your skin and sucked it into your mouth, humming at the salty taste.

Changbin huffed out a breath, collapsing on top of you unceremoniously. His headband slid upon his dark hair again and you giggled, pulling it off of his head altogether to run your fingers through it.

“Okay, wow,” Hyunjin huffed. You blinked hazily towards him, seeing him and Jeongin stood there with dropped jaws. “Okay. Okay.”

Jeongin giggled, pressing a few buttons on the camera. He grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist, starting to drag him out of the room despite the fact that the elder man seemed rooted to the spot. “I’ll take him away. You guys did great, just chill for a minute.”

Changbin giggled against your neck, and then he shifted his hips, letting the fake cock drop out. On autopilot, you rubbed your thumb over his gaping rim, grinning when he jolted and gasped.

“You really didn’t take it easy on me, huh?” Changbin said, shaking his head in disbelief.

You burst out laughing, chest shaking. “I did warn you,” You began, and then you felt awkward. He was snuggled up to your chest, sated and relaxed as if it was home, so… could you ask him? “Bin. Do you want to, like… go on a date sometime?”

Changbin perked up at that, looking at you with his usual downturned smile. “I’d love to.”

628 notes · View notes

leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year ago

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

Hunter. Hunted. Predator. Prey. It's all the same when you know how it ends right? Let the game begin.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, Skz!Pack, skz!abo, Poly!skz, omegaverse abo, a/b/o, ot8, skz x you, skz x reader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, femreader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, ateez, ateez!pack, atiny, skz fluff, skz smut, primal play, primal skz

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Primal Play, CNC, Choking, Unprotected Sex, Delayed After Care

Title: Catch Me if You Can

“They’re going to fucking murder us once they find out about this, you know.”

Yeosang effortlessly avoids a stubborn root breaking through the running trail, and matches your pace once more, his feet pounding on the pavement a distinct echo of your own.

“You worry too much.” You puff out, glancing down at your watch, taking note of the time and distance.

Yeosang shoots you a glare, shifting slightly to allow you to follow the curve of the path. “I worry just the right amount, thank you very much.” He retorts back, checking his own watch with a brief downward flick of his eyes. “You, on the contrary, don’t worry enough.”

You roll your eyes at your best friend, giving him a slightly exasperated, amused twist of your lips in response.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.” He immediately deadpans back, picking up the pace a bit as the final stretch of your run comes into view.

You match him easily, your wolf reveling in stretching its legs.

Speeding up just enough to get in front of him, you turn and jog backward a few steps, offering him what you hope is a pleading look, batting your eyes for extra good measure.

“Please, Sangie? For me, baby? Mommy really wants this one.” Your voice is a whine, and you don’t miss the way he grimaces at your words.

“Ew. You’re disgusting. Don’t ever call yourself mommy ever again.”

He shoves past you and makes a sprint for the parking lot.

You grin, and follow after him, calling out loud enough to be heard over your pounding footsteps, “So is that a yes then?”

“Fuck you!” Yeosang calls back over his shoulder, giving you the middle finger without looking in your direction.

Your grin grows wider.

You’re going to take that as a yes.

**************

You push through the door into the apartment and are immediately met with the smell of something cooking.

Your stomach growls at the thought of food-Minho’s food- and you kick off your sneakers with a thud against the entryway hall, wincing slightly as they leave a scuff on the plaster.

Jeongin appears on his way to the living room, hoisting a backpack over his shoulder, and when he catches sight of you, he pauses, taking in your running outfit, the sheen of sweat on your skin.

“How many?” He asks without preamble, grinning at you.

“Twelve.” You answer back with an arch of your brow and a smug smirk, and he steps toward you to give you a fist bump, knuckles meeting your own.

“Nice.” He grins wider, nodding his head.

“Jesus Christ.” Jisung, who has just appeared in the doorway behind Jeongin, mutters beneath his breath at your words, as if the very thought of running twelve miles is utterly revolting to him.

“Whoa.” Changbin practically runs into the halted Jeongin and Jisung as he enters, and the small front hallway is beginning to feel more and more packed by the second. “I was unaware we were having a pack meeting by the front door.”

“We’re not.” Jisung chirps, herding Jeongin toward the living room. “Just saying hi to noona.”

Changbin pats the youngest on the head affectionately as he slips by him, and then proceeds to lean over to grab his shoes, already dressed for the gym, his duffle bag hanging loosely off one shoulder.

You move to allow him access to the closet, and suddenly, he freezes, eyes flicking up to your own.

You stare at him, unsure of what’s happening, and then he promptly drops his gym bag and straightens up, sneakers forgotten.

His hand goes against the wall beside your head, and he leans into you, fingers gripping your chin, pupils suddenly wide and dark.

“You smell fucking incredible.” He murmurs, voice on the edge of a growl.

Suddenly, it clicks.

You give him the hint of a smug smirk. “I just got back from a run.”

Changbin groans, as if he’s heavily considering the pros and cons of controlling himself, and then grits out, “God, I love when you go running.”

His fingers tighten on your chin, and he angles your head to expose your throat, before he leans over and licks one long stripe up the side of your neck with an expert, rough swipe of his tongue.

Everything inside of you turns to jelly.

“Fuck, you taste fucking incredible too.” He growls, lips brushing against the underside of your jaw with every word.

“Oh, fuck me.” Hyunjin groans in obvious disgust, appearing in the empty doorway, a pair of headphones in one hand, his painting supplies in the other.

He’s clearly referencing the swirl of alpha pheromones currently drenching the entryway, not to mention, Changbin’s mouth still on your skin, and his very clear erection pressed between the two of you.

“I would love nothing more.” Chan replies cheekily, appearing behind the disgruntled Hyunjin, giving him an affectionate pat on the head as he pushes past the clearly annoyed omega. “But later, Jinnie. Bin and I are late for the studio.” Changbin sighs and rolls his eyes heavenward at Chan’s words, pulling back from you reluctantly as the head alpha leans between the two of you to grab his shoes, either completely oblivious to the tension or blatantly choosing to ignore it.

“God fucking dammit.” The other alpha curses beneath his breath, and you swear you see Chan hide a smile.

“C’mon, Bin. We have shit to work on. We gotta get it done.”

Changbin groans and leans over to grab his bag with jerky irritated movements. “You’re a fucking cockblocker to the fullest, hyung.”

“It’s his proudest title.” Hyunjin interjects with a sweet smile and bat of his lashes in Chan’s direction, as he moves past the three of you to reach for his jacket.

You giggle, and Chan shoots you an exasperated look, Changbin looking up at the sound.

Chan turns to Hyunjin to say something in response, and Changbin takes the momentary distraction to step toward you once more, his eyes darkening and his posture growing threatening.

His fingers pinch your chin, tighter than before, and you resist the urge to whine, as he leans in close to your lips, the scent of smoke filling your nose.

“Tonight. At the game. You’re mine.” His growled words send heat directly between your legs, wet and warm, but you try to remain stoic, giving him an innocent look as you inquire back sweetly, “What if we’re on the same team?”

Gold flickers across his irises, and his lips pull back in the start of a growl to reveal sharp canines.

“We won’t be. I’ll make sure of it.”

You swallow hard, and give a little nod, your alpha fully baring its throat to him now that he’s dropped his tone into alpha timber.

Changbin releases you, satisfied, and gives you one last long dangerous look, adjusting himself in his sweats while holding your gaze, before he reluctantly follows Chan out the front door.

*********

“God, we’re so fucking dead.” Yeosang mutters beside you, jiggling his leg nervously, so hard that the log you’re currently sitting on vibrates.

You reach out a hand and tamp down his knee, giving him a pointed stare.

“Will you stop that?” You hiss out the side of your mouth, eyes darting around to the surrounding pack members, all lost in their own conversations as they wait for the game to start. “This is the last fucking time I ask you to be my accomplice.”

“Good.” Yeosang whips right back beneath his breath, glaring sidelong at you. “I rather prefer myself breathing, thank you very much, and after this, Seonghwa-hyung is gonna skin me alive.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and dig your nails into his knee, so hard he winces and shoots you another outraged glower.

“Relax, Sangie. How bad could it possibly go?”

“I fucking hate you, you know that?”

You give him a wicked grin and blow him a cheeky kiss, to which he responds with a middle finger, just as Seungmin steps into the light of the bonfire you’re all gathered around.

As the unofficial officiator of the games, his long fingers are already full of black and white scrunchies.

The beta pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand, and glances around at all of you with a serious expression.

Everyone is quiet now, the banter from earlier dying down and giving way to anticipatory tension.

“Rules are as they always are.” Seungmin starts, his voice carrying over all of you, drifting into the dark, silence of the wood beyond.

The fire crackles loudly, and a log pops before disintegrating into glowing red coals.

The wave of ensuing smoke reminds you of Changbin, and you glance across to him to find him already watching you, eyes dark and endless.

Predatory.

A shiver goes down your spine.

“However-” Seungmin clears his throat, and beside you, Yeosang tenses up.

The smell of rotting driftwood assaults your senses.

God, he’s going to fucking give it away before the game even begins.

Seungmin’s gaze drifts to you, but it doesn’t linger, skirting to Yeosang and then beyond.

He’s a master at poker face, it’s why he’d been chosen as the referee for the games in the first place, never giving anything away.

“-an anonymous party has requested a caveat of sorts, and I have agreed.”

There is some murmuring among the omegas to your left, but your gaze is locked on Seungmin, every muscle in your body suddenly bunched.

Your wolf paces impatiently, ready to run.

A slight smirk twitches on Seungmin’s lips.

“After all, anything to make the game a little more unpredictable, am I right?” Beside you, Yeosang groans.

“But first-” Seungmin backtracks, and you hear a few other pack members groan at the anticlimactic drag out. “-come and get your scrunchies.”

Everyone stands in a bustle of motion, converging on Seungmin, hands eagerly grabbing markers confidently.

You step forward, reaching for one of the black predator scrunchies in the beta’s left hand, when someone knocks your hand away, fingers going tightly around your wrist.

You know who it is without looking, yet you glance over anyway, seeing Changbin scowling at you, his expression fiery.

“Not you.” He growls, before he takes the scrunchie you were reaching for and slides the black fabric around his own wrist.

You stare at him, but he doesn’t let you go, reaching across your joined arms for a prey marker instead, nodding to Seungmin, before he snaps the white scrunchie around your free arm, tugging you toward him with the same motion.

You stumble, and your free hand braces against his chest so you don’t fall into him completely, though you know he could hold you up easily.

His eyes are so dark, that you swear you can see the lack of reflection in them.

“Like I said,” He rumbles dangerously, and the sound vibrates in his chest, through your fingers, and instantly makes you swallow. “You’re mine.”

The brat inside of you rears its head, and you smirk up at him confidently.

“If you can catch me.”

Something feral flashes across Changbin’s eyes at your taunting, and he bares his teeth, a growl starting low in his chest.

“I don’t think you’re understanding me, little one.” He purrs warningly, fingers tightening their hold on your wrist, making your pulse race beneath his fingertips.

He leans down, and his nose brushes your own, his voice dropping impossibly low and deep.

More animal, less man.

“You’re. Mine.”

He releases you, and you stumble back, head swimming, wolf suddenly very much ready, and he gives you one last, long dark look, before he retreats to the predator side of the fire, sitting down beside Chan.

You catch your breath, and return to sit beside Yeosang, who is nervously playing with his own white scrunchie.

“That looked intense.” He remarks, and it takes you a minute to realize he’s talking about Changbin.

“Yeah.” You manage to get out, still slightly breathless, more than a little turned on. Your inner thighs are already wet. “Just a little.”

Across the fire, you can feel Changbin’s gaze boring into you.

Your attention is drawn back to Seungmin as he drops his now empty hands, crossing his arms over his chest as he regards you all once more.

“Now. As for the caveat-” His gaze sweeps to the predator side of the fire, and Yeosang gulps audibly from beside you.

“Tonight, predators are not allowed scent blockers.”

Chaos ensues.

Beside you, the rest of the prey glances between each other with wide eyes, whispering and murmuring.

Across the fire, the predators are in shambles.

“What? That’s bullshit!” San shoots to his feet.

Wooyoung cackles gleefully from somewhere beside Felix.

Seungmin holds out his hands to either side, looking annoyed with the commotion.

“Everyone shut up, I’ve spent the time going over this additional rule, and I think it’s well allowed in this instance-”

Your eyes drift across the crest of the fire without permission to Changbin, who hasn’t moved since the announcement, seated silently beside Chan, a frozen statue amidst the chaos.

He arches a brow when he catches your gaze, and something in his slightly amused, impressed expression clearly inquires silently, your doing?

You can’t bite back the grin that threatens your lips, as you give a slight, silent shrug in response.

Try to catch me now, predator.

“Oh fuck, he knows.” Yeosang squeaks from beside you, and you glance over to your friend, before following his terrified gaze across the bonfire to Seonghwa, who is staring down the other alpha with nothing less than murder in his dark eyes.

You pat him unhelpfully on the shoulder.

“RIP.”

Yeosang glares at you. “You better fucking speak at my funeral.”

You grin. “No promises.”

He curses, and mutters another string of insults beneath his breath, but your gaze is drawn back to that of a certain alpha sitting across the fire, completely nonplussed and completely focused on you.

Fuck, tonight was going to be fun.

“Prey.” Seungmin calls out, and you snap your gaze back to him, now holding a large open jar of what looks to be vaseline, but is really scent blocking gel, in his outstretched hand. “Come cover up.”

You grin, and pat Yeosang on the back once more for good measure before rising to your feet, ignoring his pointed look of death in your general direction.

Yeah. Tonight was going to be really fun.

*******

It had started to drizzle shortly after you entered the forest.

Prey got their precursory fifteen second head start, and you had used it wisely, breaking immediately for the eastern edge of the boundaries, where you knew a small stream was banked by steep walls and thick foliage.

You may have the advantage of wearing scent blockers, but any and all advantages stopped there.

Changbin was bound to hunt you like a bloodhound on a scent, and you needed to get to that water fast, washing away your scent trail and footsteps, your sneakers already beginning to sink into the gathering mud, leaving behind a clear path.

You reach the stream in record time, and survey your surroundings, debating the easiest way to make your way down the steep embankment.

The rain is pouring now, drenching your clothes and making them heavy, your line of sight severely compromised as the fog starts to roll in.

A crack of lightning over head startles you, making you flinch, and consequently, lose your precarious footing.

With a yelp, you slip in the mud and go down, tumbling violently down the embankment and into the stream, which is engorged and rapid with the oncoming downfall.

“Fuck.” You curse, the cold water of the stream instantly making you shiver, your clothes even heavier and wetter than before, as you struggle to right yourself and crawl to the bank of the stream, the rocks slipping beneath your hands.

The clay that lines the stream is soupy now, thick and breaking off between your fingers, and you swear again as you scrabble to get a grip good enough to pull yourself up.

That’s when you hear it-the sound of a branch cracking, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain.

You instantly freeze, ignoring the mud covering your hands, the freezing water slipping over your legs.

Another snap of foliage, closer now, and you suck in a breath, trying not to panic, as you glance around for somewhere in the stream bed to hide.

And then you see a pair of large, dark eyes staring at you wildly from the midst of a thicket only a few feet away, the panic clear in the familiar caramel irises.

Jeongin.

Without thinking, you roll your body across the little bit of embankment separating you, and drop down into the middle of the thicket beside him.

You’re breathing heavily, your clothes drooping from your limbs with the weight of the water, and the branches scratched you mercilessly on the way in, but beside that, you’re hidden.

And that’s all that matters.

A footstep sounds above you, on the edge of the upper embankment, out of your view, and Jeongin stiffens beside you.

If you could scent him right now, you would bet the small safety of the bush you’re currently hiding in would smell strongly of burning bread and too much cinnamon.

Instead, a wave of roses tickles your nose, and then, the faint whiff of amber.

Fuck, you should’ve known they’d be hunting together.

Another footstep, and then you hear Seonghwa say in a soft voice, “Clever prey. Using the water and the storm to their advantage.”

“Mm.” That’s Minho’s voice, humming low in agreement. “But we knew they were clever already, didn’t we?”

Seonghwa chuckles, more of a purr, and it has your hackles rising. “I guess we did.”

“Still-” Minho muses, and you see a sneaker come into view, dropping over the steep cut off of the embankment you fell down only minutes before.

Beside you, Jeongin cowers back, his eyes large and dark, pupils blown.

A whimper escapes his lips as Minho draws closer, and you slide your hand over his mouth quickly, silencing him, as you give him a pointed, wordless stare, your own body tensed and ready to run.

Minho’s muddy sneaker is dangling right in front of your hiding place now, and Jeongin is shaking.

“-I wonder how far they’re really willing to go.��

There is the sound of a branch breaking, and then the sneaker disappears from sight, before you hear the two alphas resume walking away from you.

Once you can’t smell even a hint of roses or amber any longer, you allow yourself to collapse back into the mud, removing your tightly clamped hand from Jeongin’s mouth.

He has red marks from your fingers dug into his full cheeks, and his eyes are still wide and terrified, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, shuddering on the exhale. “That was close.”

“Yeah.” You give a quick, curt nod, and glance up at the dark sky through the branches of your hiding spot, judging how much time has passed.

Changbin would be hot on your trail by now. You don’t have much time.

“We should go.” You give Jeongin a serious look, and he nods, swallowing, his throat bobbing, before you both push free from the branches of the thicket.

Your sneakers fill with water once more as you emerge into the open, stepping into the stream.

“Head off and I’ll go the opposite direction from you. We’re too vulnerable if we stick together.”

Jeongin nods again, clenching his fists, his small frame still shivering, and doggedly begins jogging away from you, staying in the creek for several meters, before you see him grab for an outreaching root and pull himself up the embankment and out of sight on the other side.

Letting out a steadying breath, you take off in the opposite direction.

When you’re far enough down stream that you can no longer see the spot where Jeongin disappeared, you leap up the embankment, the mud crumbling beneath your feet, as you slip your way upward, grabbing for a low hanging branch as your foot slides out from under you once more.

You ignore the burn of the rough bark tearing into your palms, heaving yourself upward quickly and quietly, feet finally landing on the somewhat steady lip that juts out before the drop into the stream below.

It’s still pouring, and you swipe a hand across your forehead to clear the dripping water from your vision, even as your newly torn skin stings in protest.

Swiping your palms on your wet pants, ignoring the burn as you do so, you take off at a light sprint, following the line of the stream further and further away from Jeongin, and where you’d last heard Seonghwa and Minho.

It’s tough going, the mud sucking at your feet with every step, the rain soaking your clothes until they’re so heavy they feel like lead attached to your limbs, and you’re panting by the time you reach some sort of clearing, carefully checking your surroundings before stepping out into the open from the safety of the tree line.

The ground is soup here, sinking when you take a careful step forward, the mud quickly rising up around your calf as your shoe disappears from sight.

You swear, and are debating whether to try to double back and skirt around the sink hole type clearing, losing precious time, or just doggedly continue forward, when you smell it.

Smoke.

It burns your nostrils, your throat with every heaving breath inward, sharp and acidic, and fuck, he’s close.

You hear the sound of a branch snap directly behind you, and without thinking, you throw yourself forward into the clearing.

The mud is trying to slow you down, but you leap forward, ignoring the pull on your sneakers, the burn in your calf muscles.

You lunge forward with wild abandon, anything to put some distance between the two of you, and then you feel it, cold fingers snaking around your muddy ankle.

You go down with a shriek, narrowly avoiding landing on your face by catching yourself on your aching palms, flailing in the pool of muck, and as you scrabble to grab something, anything, in front of you to try and drag yourself from his hold, the mud does nothing but break into thick, wet chunks beneath your fingers.

Changbin flips you so you’re on your back, staring up at him, chest heaving, and pins you to the ground, his knees going down heavily on your legs, one of his hands looping around both your wrists and tugging them up into the mud above your head.

You’re both breathing hard, and it gives you a moment of satisfaction to know you put up a good fight.

“Got you.” Changbin growls, leaning over close to your ear, his eyes so dark they could swallow you whole.

There’s only wolf behind those eyes, predator, and the thought makes your legs instantly turn to something akin to jelly.

You stare up at him, silent, and watch him take in the way the mud must be streaking your face, the bloody skin of your palms in his hold.

“Honestly, you made this too easy for me, it’s like you wanted to be caught.” He purrs, lips lifting into a slight smirk, dark and menacing.

“What if I did?” You fire back instantly, defiance rearing its head at his taunting.

Changbin arches a brow, eyes flashing. His fingers pinch your wrists, and you resist the urge to wince.

“Then I’d say, little one, that you don’t know what you’re in for.”

Fuck.

The human part of you desperately wants to give in, desperately wants to be caught, but the louder, more dominant wolf side of you is telling you to run, to resist, to give him what he so obviously wants.

What you both want.

A fight.

His free hand slides down your side, finding the soaked waistband of your leggings, and his fingers curl around the elastic as his swirling golden eyes meet your own.

Every muscle in your body tenses.

His cold fingers touch your equally chilled skin, and he shifts slightly, hovering some of his weight so that he can begin to tug down your leggings.

It’s the moment you need.

Kicking out, you throw him off balance, and he releases you in surprise, giving you just enough time to slither out from beneath his body and make one more last attempt to escape him, scrabbling on hands and knees through the mud to try and regain your footing.

You barely make it three feet before you feel his fingers close around your ankle once more, dragging you back through the mud toward him easily, instantly halting your forward progress.

Swearing and spitting like a cornered cat, you fight him the entire way, fingers clawing trails into the mud, until he’s got you back beneath him, pinned down, staring down at you triumphantly.

You’re both panting again, covered head to toe in mud, and the adrenaline is pumping intoxicatingly through your veins, making everything white hot to the touch.

“Fuck you.” You spit up at him, baring your teeth and glaring him down, writhing in his iron grasped hold.

Changbin grins, sharp teeth flashing white against the streaks of mud on his face, and arches a brow, sitting atop you nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just battled you for every last inch.

“Normally, I’m into that, and I’d let you.” He acquiesces, his smile dropping into something closer to a dangerous, threatening smirk, as he leans down to put his lips against your ear. “But right now, prey, I’m going to be the only one doing the fucking.”

His fingers find your waistband once more, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate, ripping the fabric down your legs in one swift motion, baring your skin to the elements, and his gaze.

He sits back, admiring you openly, as your skin begins to pebble beneath the cold rain, the mud oozing between your now naked thighs.

“I can smell it on you, you know.” He muses, eyes never leaving your body, expression growing hungry. “You may not give yourself away like an omega, but your arousal is still palpable.”

As if to show you, he swipes a sudden hand up between your legs, and you jolt at the contact, his fingers cold on the place where you’re most hot.

“See?” He holds up his hand, and arches a brow, and his fingers glisten, even in the darkness.

“That could just be rain.” You argue back halfheartedly, because honestly, seeing Changbin with your arousal all over his fingers is doing something weird to your brain.

“Oh?” He murmurs, brow arching even further into the line of his dark, wet curls, as if he’s challenging you to continue.

“Yeah.” You nod weakly, your body starting to lose its fight against him.

It’s fucking hard to resist him when he’s between your legs, showing you your traitorous body’s reaction to him, his own arousal pressing into you from beneath the wet, dark material of his gray sweats.

Without dropping your gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and cleans them off with one long swipe of his tongue.

Your brain short circuits.

Fuck.

Me.

He seems to know he has you, lips quirking upward into the hint of a twisted, triumphant smirk.

“I can assure you, it’s not rain, little one.”

He leans over, his chest brushing yours with each heaving breath.

His eyes are entirely black pupil, laced with swirling, hot gold.

“Now.” He hums, knocking apart your knees with his own, baring you completely for him. His free hand, the one he licked clean, moving to the waistband of his own sweats.

“Be a good little prey, and let the predator have his reward, hm? After all-” He frees himself from the wet fabric of his sweatpants, and you resist the urge to let your eyes trail downward, swallowing hard. “-I did catch you.”

“I made it easy on purpose.” You gasp out, the words hitching, as he trails himself slowly up and down your inner thighs.

The corner of his mouth lifts with amusement, but he doesn’t look up, watching the way your body openly reacts to what he’s doing.

“Did you?” He muses, almost to himself, beneath his breath.

Your whole body trembles beneath him.

“I don’t believe that.” He continues, voice a low murmur, almost a rumble, in his chest. He reaches up and turns over one of your trapped palms, baring the bleeding, torn skin. His gaze meets your own, and his eyes are dark, dangerous.

Something low swoops in your belly.

“If you’re going to lie to me, little one, at least make it worth it.”

You open your mouth to retort something smart in return, when, without warning, Changbin slams his hips forward and sheaths himself inside of you.

You cry out, stars exploding behind your eyes, back arching and muscles spasming, and Changbin’s hand comes around your throat, pinning you to the muddy ground, his fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to have the nails breaking the surface.

“Don’t move.” He commands, voice strained, the arm that’s holding himself up, hovering over you, beginning to shake slightly. “You don’t have all of it yet.”

Fuck.

You’re whimpering, you’re aware of it, but you can’t stop, as he leans forward, releasing his breath slowly, and, stretching you to the max, finishes fitting himself inside you.

He lets out a shuddering breath. “Fuck.”

You feel your muscles relax slowly, one by one, adjusting, and Changbin slowly releases his hold on your throat, finger by finger, until you can breathe again.

“Breathe, baby.” Changbin admonishes in an almost soft tone, as if he can tell what you’re thinking, and you take in a few ragged breaths, whining and writhing when the movement has him rubbing against all the right places. “Good girl.”

He starts to move then, bucking his hips into your own, and you swear to god, you black out, whimpering and clawing at his chest through his hoodie like an animal in heat.

“God, look at you, taking me so well.”

The praise has you reaching out, clawing at the muddy ground, trying to gain more friction.

“Bin, I need-” You gasp, breath hitching, as he hits a good spot, and you both simultaneously groan.

He pauses, reaching up to wrap his fingers beneath your jaw, forcing you to focus on him, meet his gaze.

His eyes are darker than the storm clouds brewing angrily overhead, and you vaguely have the thought that the gold swirling in his irises matches the flash of the lightning sparking above the trees.

“I know what you need, little one. I don’t need you to tell me.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth, and finally nod, your muddy hands coming up to fist in the front of his dirty, wet hoodie, your nails itching to feel his bare skin.

Changbin must take it as a wordless acknowledgement, because he moves again, his hips hitting yours, and you get the black spots in your vision once more as you cry out.

“Now.” His hand closes a little more tightly around your throat, making your air reedy, your heart pound. Adrenaline is making you feel like you’re lightheaded, and you’re so close, even with just this-

Changbin smirks down at you, a predator. “Hold still, and let me devour you.” He leans over, and his teeth make contact with your mating mark, sinking into the sensitive flesh there, and you mewl, scrabbling for a hold on his sweatshirt, as he picks up his pace with renewed vigor, pounding into you relentlessly.

It doesn’t take long.

The adrenaline has you both on a knife’s edge, ready to topple with the slightest breath, and it seems like merely moments before your vision is exploding once more, and you’re gasping his name as you come, clenching around him.

Changbin follows you over the edge with a roar, and you’re both left panting, sweat mixing with the rain, mud mingling on your sticky skin.

Thunder rumbles overhead, as Changbin catches his breath, looming over you, dark curls tumbling over his forehead, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he stares down at you.

Your whole body feels numb and satiated, and your eyes feel heavy.

He rolls off of you, plopping down into the mud beside you, and you both just breathe for a moment, staring up at the turbulent sky.

Finally you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, and rolling your head so you can look at him, you see him lift his own muddy hand to his lips, pulling the dirty black scrunchie off with his teeth, before he slides it over your own hand, onto your wrist beside the once white marker.

He lets your hands flop back down between you unceremoniously, but keeps his fingers curled tightly around your own.

“There. I think you earned that.”

You watch the way his chest rises and falls with his ragged breathing, feeling eerily and utterly content in this moment, the storm pouring down on you from above, Changbin’s seed dripping slowly down the inside of your thighs.

Feeling your gaze, he glances over at you, lips pulling into the hint of a smile, before he pushes himself up beside you and his gaze travels to your bare, dirty legs.

He cocks his head, and glances to where he discarded your leggings earlier, a strange look on his face.

You sit up with effort, and reach for the article of clothing, balling it into your hand to begin to rub away the juices still clinging to your skin, when Changbin stops you with a hand on your wrist.

You glance up at him curiously, and his eyes flash gold in the dark.

“Don’t clean up. I want you to walk out of here knowing you’re mine, and feeling that reminder run down your legs all the way back to the house.”

You stare at him, and the corner of your mouth ticks upward.

“What about the rest of the pack?”

Changbin shrugs, standing, before he leans over to offer you a hand up.

His own lips curve into the hint of a self satisfied smirk, and if you hadn’t just come so hard you were still feeling slightly dizzy, you would’ve begged him to go another round.

“Fuck them. I want them to know too. I want everyone to know.”

You find-as he helps steady you so you can step back into your wet, filthy pants-that you don’t mind that idea one single bit.

********

You’re shivering so badly that it makes turning on the shower a more difficult task than it should be.

The adrenaline had finally worn off in the car home, and once you’d stepped inside and felt the warmth of the waiting house, your body had suddenly decided enough was enough.

You needed to get out of these clothes and into a warm shower as quickly as humanly possible.

Stripping had been nearly impossible, the drenched fabric sticking to your skin, your trembling fingers struggling with every single closure, but you had managed it, and now, finally turning on the hot water, you can see the end at the light of the tunnel.

It includes a hot shower, a warm bed, and as much of Minho’s leftovers as you can stand.

The door to the bathroom creaks open, letting in a cool stream of air that makes you shiver, and you glance over your shoulder, watching as Changbin enters, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He, unlike you, is still wearing his drenched outfit from the game earlier, dripping muddy rain water onto the floor as he regards you through the foggy, steamed air of the bathroom.

“Hi?” You question, adjusting the stream and temperature of the water, shooting him a curious look over your shoulder.

He doesn’t answer, stepping toward you as you straighten up from adjusting the water, his fingers going to your chin and locking you in place beneath his gaze.

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, and resist the urge to wipe a streak of mud from his cheekbone.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” He states softly, dark eyes flicking over your face, down the bare expanse of your body.

You’re caught off guard, still staring at him as he raises a finger to wipe some mud from beneath your jaw.

“I was rough with you earlier. My alpha got a little out of control.” He admits, reaching up to thumb the corner of your mouth.

You trap his hand against your face, relishing the warmth of his skin against your own.

“I like it rough.” The corner of his mouth flickers upward, and a muscle in his jaw ticks.

“I know.”

You breathe out, intertwining your fingers with his, and reach up to finally wipe away the streak of muck on his cheek.

“I’m fine.” You assure softly, holding his gaze.

He takes in a shuddering breath, gaze flicking down your body once more, and then to the running, waiting shower, before he glances back to you, expression softening slightly.

He runs his thumb over your lips, tracing the soft skin.

“I need to make sure. Please?”

You stare at him for another beat, and then nod, slowly pulling him toward the shower with you, as he reaches down with his free hand to strip off his hoodie and then his sweats.

Stepping into the warm water, your body shudders with relief, your tired, sore muscles instantly relaxing, as you lean into the pressure of the stream.

Changbin shuts the door behind the two of you, and immediately moves to assess you, his large, warm hands running over every inch of your body.

You let him do it, sensing it’s something he needs at this moment.

He tilts your head back with a commanding finger under your chin, his eyes roving over your face, gaze flickering down to the broken skin where his nails dug into your throat, the bruising mark of his teeth on your shoulder.

He runs gentle hands over each, pressing light kisses to the injuries, before moving on.

You feel your body slowly leaving fight or flight mode, and sinking into the warmth, the safety, his embrace.

He kneels in front of you, hands on your hip bones, and lets his fingers lightly trace over some of the bruising along your ribs and sides-courtesy of your little struggle-before he kisses them as well, lips featherlight and warm.

He turns over your palms, one by one, and dots kisses along the lines of scratches that mark the skin.

You bury your fingers in his dark curls, and tug slightly, and when he looks up at you, you give him the hint of a smile.

“See? Told you I’m fine.”

“Mmm.” He hums beneath his breath in acknowledgement, as you gently scratch his scalp, your fingers disappearing into the curls.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to your stomach, and wraps his arms around your waist.

You stay like that-playing with his hair, frozen in his embrace-as the warm water continues to pour down from above.

Finally, Changbin pushes himself to his feet, releasing you, and leans forward, capturing your lips with his own.

You moan slightly as his teeth graze your bottom lip, and he pulls back with a teasing smile, but his eyes are soft.

“I love you.” He says, voice low and affectionate beneath the sound of the water.

You grin and loop your arms around his neck. “I know.”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing, but pushes you back against the cool marble of the shower wall with his body anyway.

You let your fingers card through his hair once more, down the strong lines of his chest, across the mating mark that scars his shoulder.

His fingers press, featherlight, into the bruise just above your hip bone.

“Yours?” You ask quietly, glancing up at him.

“Mine.” He replies back adamantly, before leaning in to kiss you again.

********************************************************************************

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mayrose713 · 29 days ago

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Beautifully Cruel World-The Pack

Series Master list | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters are based after. The actions, views, personalities and characteristics of these characters do not in any way shape or form reflect the real Stray Kids. This story is all for fun so please keep it that way.

Background: This story takes place in an alternate universe where everyone presents as 1 of 3 sub-genders, Alpha, Beta, Omega. Omegas became a rarity after a disease almost wiped them out and the world has been slowly trying to repopulate them ever since. Omegas are normally sold to packs as possessions and are for the whole pack to use. Most packs only have one omega if any unless a pup is presented as one which they are groomed to be the perfect submissive omega for a pack to buy. But some rare omegas don't go through that, this is that story.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series

Christopher Bang Chan- Alpha (Pack Alpha / Pack Leader) 27

Chan helps run his fathers business in the Korean Office with his fathers business partners son after deciding to move there from Australia. The 2 created their small pack named SKZ located a bit outside of Seoul and helps take care of a small town. Chan's a pack and family man, having become more understanding and protective of omega's after his younger brother presented as one and takes care of everyone even if it means neglecting his own needs.

Lee Minho- Alpha 26

Minho is hard to read. He can come off as cold and distant to outsiders but in the pack he's actually the caretaker type. He's the main cook for the pack and just seems to know how all of his pack mates are feeling and what they need. Before meeting the pack he was a backup dancer for a K-pop group called BTS and have since become a dance teacher at a big prestige dance studio in Seoul.

Seo Changbin- Alpha (Head alpha / 2nd in command) 25

Changbins father ran an office in Seoul with his business partner in Australia (Chan's dad). Changbins father stepped down and decided to let Changbin and Chan run the Korean office. Together with Chan they slowly formed their pack, becoming protective of his packmates. He's Chan's second in command and will do anything to protect his pack. Even though he's seen as the muscle and tough guy of the pack, he's actually one of the sweetest and the pack all collectively agree that he gives the best hugs and comfort.

Hwang Hyunjin- Beta (Head Beta) 24

Hyunjin is a hopeless romantic but has shielded his heart because of it having been hurt too many times. Because of this he's possessive of his fated mates and doesn't take too kindly to new people. He was even cautious with each of his pack mates having to take time to accept all of them. And it took him even longer when their pack was betrayed by one of their own. Because of this he's a great head beta and often time used as one of the mediators. He can be found teaching art classes in the towns community center once a week.

Han Jisung- Beta 24

Jisungs one of the most helpful and supportive of everyone, even if he doesn't even believe in himself. Even as a beta he still has some omega tendencies. He stives to please the people he loves. At first he can be shy and introverted but around is pack he's always talking and joking. He has some insecurities the pack helps with as well as mental health but he tries to not let that stop him, especially when his true mates remind him how amazing he is.

Lee Felix- Beta 24

Felix is the most omega like beta you will ever meet. His family was honestly surprised when he presented as a beta instead. They joke that his and and his sister (who did present as an omega even though she's more beta like) had somehow mixed up their sub-genders. The pack was always okay with not having a true omega as they felt they already had one with him around. No one can ever say no to him as he's just a ray of sunshine that brightens the packs lives. He will nest for not only himself but also for his pack and can be found in the kitchen along side Minho.

Kim Seungmin- Beta 24

Seungmin pays attention better than anyone in the pack. He's observant of everyone around to make sure his pack isn't in any type of danger. All though one of the youngest he knows how to assert his dominance when needed. Along with Hyunjin he's a great mediator for the pack. He has a passion for baseball and is the coach for the local towns little league team.

Yang Jeongin- Alpha 23

Jeongins the youngest member of the pack and a late presenter. It took time and a lot of help from his alpha hyungs to control his tendencies and he looks up to all of them because of it striving to be as great as they are. It also helped that one of his brothers presented as an omega allowing him to understand what it's like to protect one. Although he's the least experienced in the pack he's devoted.

Y/n- Omega 23

Information given as the story goes

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wannaeatramyeon · 6 months ago

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Meeting Seo Haesu for the First Time

Requested. G/N. Here are the the miniscule crumbs!

There's a guy sitting at your usual table.

Not that you own the table, or you were particularly fond of that spot. But routine breeds familiarity and you've been coming to this gimbap restaurant for years now; you know the owners by name, and that table is as good as reserved for you.

(Except it's a casual little hole in the wall that doesn't take reservations, and this is just you being bratty.)

Nevertheless, despite your table being taken (as is every other one) - the food is too delicious, ingredients too fresh, price too cheap, and it's too awkward to back out now that the kind ajussi behind the counter has spotted you.

With a sigh, you ask the guy if the chair opposite is taken, if he minds you sitting there and he gives you an almost imperceptible shrug.

"Thanks," you murmur, dropping into the seat.

He's really quiet and kinda rude.

You notice his overgrown bangs pricking into his eyes because he's openly staring at you. Head propped up on hand and lazily chewing, observing you with a half lidded gaze.

He doesn't even try to hide it.

"What?" you ask defensively, eyes narrowing and folding your arms.

That annoying shrug, the small lift of shoulders, comes again and you feel like hitting him.

"Creep," you mutter, pulling out your phone and keeping your eyes glued to it because at least that's something to distract you as you wait for your food.

You think you hear a huff of laughter but you don't bother to look at him.

The next time you lift your head, the seat is empty, and there's not a crumb left on his plate.

Misfortune strikes you again and again when you find the guy at your table every single time.

What's worse is all the other seats are taken. Every single damn time too.

He seems to have lost interest in you after the first meeting and instead diverts all his attention to his food.

There's a few things you notice:

1) He eats like it's his last meal. Packing away more food possible than you thought a guy of his size could on a regular basis.

2) He loves tuna gimbap. The banchan he seems to pick at and reluctantly finish, but he eats rolls and rolls of gimbap like it's going out of style.

3) You're actually impressed. As would anyone if they saw someone wolf down thirteen rolls in front of them.

He finds you staring that particular day, and his arm comes round to protectively cover his food, raising his eyebrows in challenge. As if to say 'Get your own.'

"I've got my own!" You growl, answering him out loud.

You gesture to your own gimbap, your own special that the owners know exactly how you like it and double filled at no extra cost.

His eyes zero in on your food, and he's much more interested than he was on the first day and all the other times since then. For a moment you think he's going to launch across the table and swipe it for himself.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then tells you, "That looks good."

It's the first time you've heard him speak. His voice is raspier than you expected. You don't bother to respond and eat your own food at record pace out of spite.

He watches your food, not you, each time afterwards. Picks at his tuna gimbap with the same bored air as the banchan and eats like it's a chore instead of the previous fervour.

"You know you can order something else, right?" You say, fed up with your involuntary companion.

He shrugs, the air of resignation around him cancelling out your urge to roll your eyes.

"Here." You slide a couple pieces over to him, surprised at yourself for your kind gesture but if it means he's going to stare less and make you feel less self-conscious, then it can only be a win.

WIth his chopsticks, he brings your gimbap to his nose, gives it a sniff and looks directly at you.

"Seo Haesu," he says, a faint smirk on his lips before popping it into his mouth.

He closes his eyes, chewing carefully and savouring the flavour.

#i'll be honest i completely forgot about him until a recent conversation #its been a hot minute. ive also forgotten about his characterisation so... sorry in advance #seo haesu x reader #seo haesu #haesu seo #how to fight x reader #how to fight #viral hit #viral hit x reader #seo haesoo #seo haesoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 1 year ago

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Pairing : Dad!Seo Changbin x F!Reader TW : children ; reader is pregnant but it's not really important in this ; Changbin being an absolute sweetheart ; it's still fluffy ; Word Count : 1.4k Request : nope!

His cellphone vibrated against the desk as he worked with Chan on a new song for the upcoming album, your cute, yet slightly cringy contact name in bold at the top of the screen. “Answer it, it might be important.” Chan said when he was Changbins hand twitching towards the device.

With Chans affirmation, he quickly answered the call and slipped out of the little studio, standing in the hallway trying not to panic. It was unlike you to call when he was working, not unless it was an emergency. “Hey sweetie, everything okay?” He said, his voice laced with a slight panic.

There was reason for his panic, although you thought it was quite silly, but with his son being in kindergarten and you being close to your due date with his daughter, he was always on edge when he was away from home, even if he was only a couple blocks away at the studio. “Everything is fine. I just got a call from the school though…”

A call from the school is never good, but your voice sounded all too calm for it to be an actual emergency, at least medically. “Well what’s wrong? Is he in trouble?” It was the immediate next thought that he had, but he couldn’t imagine what Changmin could have done to get in such a situation. His son was perfect, a sweetheart just like him and kind to everyone. There was no way in hell he could have done anything wrong.

“No, he isn’t in trouble at all. I actually think he deserves a whole day out with you, treats and maybe a little gift.” You said, a hint of sass seasoning your words just enough for Changbin to slightly understand that he was the one who had done something wrong. The only problem was that he couldn’t quite think of what that could be.

“Did… something happen? Am I missing something?” Changbin said, a little more quiet now as he tried to think hard on what it was that he possibly could have done. He made sure to pack Changmins lunch and give him his goodbye hug and kiss when he dropped him off at school that morning. He couldn’t possibly be missing anything else.

You sighed loudly, another sign that he was the one who had messed up. Luckily, you weren’t the type of wife that beat around the bush for long and you got straight to the point, although in this case, it made Changbin feel worse. “It was parent day up at the school. Everyone brought in their fathers, and MinMin was so excited for you to come up there. He told his friends all about you, how you’re a famous rapper and everything and… you forgot about him. He was crying, that’s why the school called. I had to talk to him for an hour to try to console him and tell him you didn’t forget.”

Parent day… right… how could he have forgotten? He promised Changmin that morning that he’d be there. “Shit… baby I’m so sorry… Is he okay? Fuck. I’ll be right up there, I promise. I’ll take him out for ice cream after school and I’ll get him that new toy he was asking for.” He was already in the process of grabbing his things, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he wrote a little note to Chan letting him know he had to go up to the school. “I’m on my way up now. I’m so so sorry. Am I a bad father?”

The sigh that escaped you was much softer now through the phone as he ran to his car, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. “No, Binnie. You’ve just got a lot going on. Don’t drive too fast, I’ll call the school and let them know you’re coming so they can tell MinMin.”

That night, Changbin sat on the edge of Changmins bed, watching as his son clinged onto the new stuffed animal that Changbin had bought for him after school, his sons eyes drooping lower and lower, but never closing completely. “You didn’t have to come…” The boy said, his fingers brushing through the still soft fur of the stuffed lion.

“Yes I did, I made a promise.” Changbin explained, grabbing the tail of the toy and waving it back and forth. “I can’t break a promise, not unless I really can’t do it.” He continued, letting out a yawn and silently hoping that his son would mimic the motion and drift off to sleep.

“But what if… I made a promise to my friends that I could do like… a bajillion push uppies like you do on the bar… But I can’t do it?” His son's wide boba like eyes looked up at him finally and Changbin was conflicted on whether he should laugh or feel bad for his boy who made such a silly promise. Having children was a journey that never failed to astound him and humor him every single day.

“Well… I can’t do a bajillion push uppies either, not all at the same time though.” Changbin laughed softly, the sound coming through his nose. “That was a silly promise to make though, why would you promise that?” He inquired, grabbing his son's hand and tapping along his fingers.

“They say that if you are my real dad, that I should be strong like you…” The reasoning was more upsetting than Changbin expected, and without a word, he scooped his son up onto his lap and squeezed him into the tightest hug he could muster. “Shouldn’t I be strong though…? Just like you?” Changmin asked once Changbins arms slightly loosened, leaning back to tilt his head up to look at his father questioningly.

“It took me a really long time to get this strong… If you were as strong as me already… I’d actually be a little worried.” Changbin tried to joke lightly, although his mind was still reeling, wondering whether he should be upset or pissed off that children at the school were questioning whether he was MinMins real father. “But you know what makes you extra strong?” He quizzed, and Changmins eyes widened with wonder, waiting for Changbin to give him the answer. “Getting a lot of good sleep. That’s how you build strong bones and strong muscles… and an even stronger mind.”

He sat with his son a little longer, rubbing his back and singing softly to him until he was sure that the boy was in a deep sleep before tiptoeing out of the bedroom, making sure not to step on any of the creaky floorboards on the way to the door. “You’re the best dad, you know that, right?” You whispered from just outside the door, your voice coming through the dark causing him to jump and you brought your hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter.

“It’s not funny… those kids don’t think I’m his dad… Why?” Changbin sulked over to the couch and you padded quietly along behind him, dropping down onto the cushion beside him and curling up against his side. “That’s just crazy… Do you think their parents are making them say stuff like that? He promised to do like… a bajillion push uppies… He can’t do that…” He continued rambling, but you quickly silenced him with a kiss, one hand cupping his cheek as the other held you up just enough to look at him.

“Kids never remember their promises… Just like he didn’t remember that he promised to help me clean his room this weekend. Don’t get so worked up over it.” You cooed softly, your thumb brushing over his cheek soothingly. “I think you need some sleep… We all do. Come to bed with me.” He nodded slowly, getting up first to help you off the couch and leading you to the bedroom.

“Do you think I’ll be a good dad for her too though?” He asked as he pulled the blankets back on your side of the bed, waiting for you to lay down before brushing his fingers along your swollen stomach. “I don’t want to let any of them down…”

“Binnie…” You murmured his name, placing your hand on top of his and giving it a light squeeze. “I don’t think you’re able to be anything but a good father to both of them. Our babies are so lucky… You really need to stop worrying. Get some rest, cuddle me… Anything… Just, stop thinking so bad about yourself. MinMin loves you, I love you, and she’s going to love you just as much.”

“Promise?” He whispered, sounding and looking almost childlike, and you bit your bottom lip to keep from giggling at just how cute he looked right now.

“I promise…”

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 month ago

Text

❝ You’re the one who brought the dawn to my eternal nights. ❞

Ω!reader x α!jeong-hyun | omegaverse AU, fluff, NSFW | sub. bttm. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 4k

warnings: graphic description of violence, mentions/descriptions of CA (physical, mental, emotional), mentions of dog attacks, guns, power imbalance, yandere tendencies, mentions of drugs, stalking, mentions of torture

masterlist: how you met (mob yanderes) : pt. 1 (K.JH)

authors note: @xuxitheii come get your meal "...(Y/N) could be a performer/singer at a gentleman's club..." *song on repeat: Gangsta by Kehlani (spec. the flashback version)

* YN is described as wearing more fem. clothing as he performs

He doesn't understand why he is the way he is. If Jeong-Hyun could voice his thoughts in a more concise manner, he would tell others that though the life he leads, with death awaiting at every corner, was perfect for him — he wishes he could do anything else other than this.

That, although, he is a violent man he only ever uses it as a necessity; a reaction, a defense.

A dog does not bite for no reason.

But he is not a dog.

He is a man.

Seo-Yun tells him this with such a kind smile, his heart hammers out of his chest each time she does. Jeong-Hyun doesn't understand why it does that.

When he was a child, he'd been thrown into the dog fighting rings as the opener. The new top dog would snarl at him, foam at the mouth as it barked while he cowered into a corner that did not exist. The men and women who cheered from above him, around him, disorientating as his pumping veins all but thundered with each beat of his heart.

The lights, the announcer yelling into the microphone, the beer cans thrown into the ring to push him out into the centre — and if that didn't work, the electric cow prods they'd jab at him from every side until he leapt into the rabid dogs maw.

That would get his heart racing the same way.

That visceral fear. It was a familiar emotion for Jeong-Hyun. Fear was a friend, a constant, the tremors in his hands, the clenching of his jaws, the scars on the insides of his cheeks.

Seo-Yun's kindness brings him fear and he does not understand but he cannot say this out loud.

Why? He doesn't know.

But when fear is not a constant, other emotions tentatively make way to the top. These, comes with wants rather than needs. Jeong-Hyun finds himself wanting things outside of needing to survive a fight, or of stomaching down the gruel he was given once a week.

Now that he can breathe, he can want and Jeong-Hyun is floored by this.

Seo-Yun provides whatever he wishes. A landed house with an open concept interior, soft clothes for when he is home, things he'd need for the pack of strays he adopted. When he is hurt, she hires the best doctors who stick needles into his inner elbows and with each lazy drop of the thick liquid it makes Jeong-Hyun’s nerves cool into beautiful numbness.

The money he gets doesn’t exactly hinder his wanting either. He can simply flash some of the notes and suddenly everyone bends over backwards.

Everything seems more feasible and within his grasp. His dream of simply surviving now a mishappen...blob.

A blob that has no shape. No colour. No ideals. No goals. He simply fulfils his sister's wishes because he loves her and can clearly see her dream in its vivid colours.

Then, as if the world had finally listened to his incomprehensible thoughts, you came into his life.

It was night time — most of Jeong-Hyun's activities is when the sky is dark — and he'd been accompanying his sister in her discussions with some drug lord.

Swaying favours, swapping fielty, trading a few secrets and cash for more access.

The usual business.

Jeong-Hyun hated the entrance of it. The narrow pathway between two buildings, climbing down the stairs into an even tighter foyer, before being let in. Even then, the tightness does not dissipate.

This gentleman's club — with it's heavy red drapery along the walls that reek of cigar and artificial fruit flavoured smoke — and the yellow and dim lighting that was meant to be moody...

He saw it as nothing more than headache inducing nuisances.

Secrecy was a must considering what goes on beyond these doors.

Gambling, prostitution, drugs, money laundering — the whole nine yards.

But fuck, couldn't they afford a bigger spot?

Seo-Yun glanced his way, then to his curled fingers and white knuckles. They meet their gazes. He offers a grimace, his left eye twitching just slightly, and shakes his head. Being uncomfortable was the norm for him before Seo-Yun. He can perserver. There was nothing here that he wasn’t used to.

The girls here knew better than to lay hands on him.

Or perhaps they were too frightened with how intimidating he was. With his broad shoulders and imposing height, his good eye shining in the low light; he wasn’t shy about flooding his space with his scent either.

Jeong-Hyun didn’t give a shit if it was unseemly or ungentlemanly. If it got the message across that he wasn’t someone you shoved around — he didn’t care if it made noses curl or cheeks turn red.

The girls, however, crowded his sister.

Her scent was more muted despite the core of it being alpha-like. A musk that all alpha’s equally shared as a base note. She grinned, using her tall frame to make them coo as they hung onto her arms.

She’d always been so nice to the whores. Jeong-Hyun rolled his eyes, air escaping through his nose as Seo-Yun tucked some hair behind one of their ears, purposefully ghosting her wrist along their jaw. Their brain basically exploded, pupils growing so wide it made Jeong-Hyun think of a rat’s shimmering eyeballs.

Seo-Yun gives them a lipless, yet coy, curl of her lips. No teeth in sight, demure in their presence. It helps that they're familiar with her cues. Afterall, this was not their first time visiting this establishment.

But tonight was different. Because, once again, this was the night everything changed for him.

They were seated in the VIP area, tucked in a cove to ensure privacy whilst still having a clear unblocked view of the stage. The curtains lifted just as they sat down, Jeong-Hyun spreading his legs as a clear sign of impoliteness. His gun holster peeks from his leather jacket.

There’s the strum of a bass guitar. The echoing twang making him unclench his jaw as he turns his head to face the stage.

You were a sight he’d never seen, and he’d seen plenty.

Gaping bullet holes. Guts spilling with billowing steam as insides meet the outside. Ears and fingers torn apart. Heads splattered open on the concrete. Brain matter swirling down the concrete of a butcher shop.

All that horror dissipates into smoke.

You were dressed like an angel. An angel for gangsters like himself, anyways. No snowy white wings and cherub rosy-dusted cheeks and tight blonde curls.

Instead, you had elbow-high gloves that were beaded with pearls around the seam. The flesh of your thigh has a tantalizing shimmery hue of your skin tone, twinkling faintly as you swayed your hips and shimmied your fur-covered shoulders.

Did you know you pout every time you sing into the microphone? Nothing majorly obvious, but he was enchanted by the colour of your gloss and how soft your lips looked.

He noticed.

He remembers hearing your voice lift every time you smile as you sing. How adorable the crease between your eyebrows was as you crooned to the audience.

When you started to walk off the stage, he had to stop himself from snarling as the alphas in the crowd began cheering and whooping. Seo-Yun’s hand on his nape makes him damn near short circuit.

She’s staring at him with her brows furrowed. It’s his scent. That sharp, spicy, scent of a displeased alpha — he’d been seething so much the girls were cowering next to his sister.

Jeong-Hyun was an uncaring asshole but not a heartless one. He offers a grimace as an apology, uncurling his fists and turning his head around again only to be met with the sight of your gloved hand.

You’re singing. He can lip-read you from how close you are, and he can feel how warm you actually are — from the stage lights most likely. But most importantly, Jeong-Hyun can smell you.

That haunting smell of rare flowers blooming under the moonlight, hidden in their own utopia away from mankind. You smile at him, sweet and coy and insincere. This was just a transaction to you after all.

He brings his knees closer together, the bump of his throat bobs. You rest your hand on the collar of his jacket, leaning down and whispering the lyrics the song into his ear/microphone.

You're new to this place.

None of the other 'entertainers' dared to place hands on Jeong-Hyun. He wasn't fond of strangers invading his space, despised it really, and he had no problems letting it show. Yet, as though under a spell, he does nothing as you brush a hand to his chest.

Your voice echoing sin, your breath causing his mishappen ear to redden as his sullen skin flushes. When you pull back, he expects to see at least a smidge of disgust.

He wouldn't fault you for it. His years growing up inside of a dog fighting ring had not left him looking pretty — his teeth were exposed on the left side of his face. Skin ripped off after a particularly rough day with an adrenaline-pumped mutt. His left eye was milky, perpetually tugged back from the scarring, there'd also been the pinkish scar across his neck. That'd been man-made, and you had probably felt the way it dipped and caved like a canyon across his skin.

The reason he wears gloves was because of the other scars too. Chunks of flesh missing, divots, messily stapled fingers.

Jeong-Hyun was a beast. He expects to be treated like one.

You smile at him. Lips parting to show just a sly of teeth, curled lashes making the stars in your eyes shine brighter as you peer down at him. There's just the slightest wisps of steam coming off your skin from the stage light behind you, but you seem completely unbothered by this.

His pupil constrict into slits when he feels your gloved hand trace upwards, grasping onto your wrist so harshly he sees your brows twinge in pain. Yet, you continue to sing. His grip doesn't loosen, keeping you awkwardly in place.

The show must go on.

He's held your wrist away from his neck, but your fingers stretch and his shock is written across his grotesque face. They stroke faintly on the underside of his chin — a brush, a featherlight touch.

You use his shock to your advantage. As his grip falters, you swiftly slip your hand away and turn your back to him.

"Are you alright?" Seo-Yun speaks from his side. Watching him as he stares at you climbing back on stage, the left side of his face was harder to read. But she can tell he's clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring.

But he wasn't angry. Not the slightest bit.

It was no surprise Jeong-Hyun missed a few important milestones due to his childhood. Of course, Seo-Yun had hired the best doctors to rectify that and for the most part, he's been acclimating just nicely. But complicated emotions always escapes him. Instincts often wins over for Jeong-Hyun.

You were the first person in his life that had made him feel no fear — you made him feel unabashed desire.

Ideally, you'd prefer to perform in a proper bar. One with less shady figures. Where the men with tattoos aren't so shameless in showing off the knife sheaths near their waist. But it's tough to be a singer in this day and age. Bills, bills and more bills.

Not to mention loan sharks.

You don't understand why fate had decided to put you through these battles — to make your father pass and graciously leaving you with nothing but his debts. It royally pissed you off. People tell you to not speak ill of the dead, but fuck him.

You hadn't been rolling in dough before he decided to drop dead but you'd been fine. Living in a small, closet-like, apartment near your college; working part-time here and there and then busking at night. Life hadn't been easy but it'd been simple.

Now? You were here in a room full of the scum of the Earth. You didn't even want to imagine what they do for a living. You were just grateful that you'd been hired here — the pay was enough to keep the loan sharks from banging onto your poor door and splashing red paint all over your entrance. You had to drop out but you can always continue once you survive this.

Because that's all that matters now. Surviving.

So even if you're pulled into the lap of some gangsters lap or have your nape be grabbed at as you sing and twirl around the room in a true Jessica Rabbit-esque fashion, you endure.

Because you'd rather be groped than be dead.

You deserved to be alive, goddammit.

At least you weren't like the other omegas 'entertainers' in the room. You didn't think yourself as above them, not at all, but you were grateful your shady contract didn't mention any backroom work.

Tonight, like most nights, began with the curtains raising to reveal you. The — in all the ways that count — untouchable omega in his sparkling outfit of feathers and velvet. You sing and dance, walk down the stage to the wolf-whistles of many, and make your way through the room.

A few familiar faces stick out. The man with the lip scar grips your waist as you walk past and you look at him from over your shoulder, pretending to be delighted at the sight of him uncrossing his legs to show the tent in his pants.

Pig.

Then, there, at the more VIP tables. A woman in a red dress, surrounded by other omegas all fawning over her. Next to her, an imposing figure.

His profile was so beautiful. His nose had a subtle curve, the tip more round than sharp, and his strong brows complimenting the deep-high crease of his double eyelid. Such a strong jaw, inky black hair tousled but in the way that makes him look like a boy rather than a gangster.

With his legs spread, and his broad shoulders. His gloved hands crossed over his chest. You place yourself between his knees and when he turns you're momentarily caught off guard.

Holy. Fuck.

You'd seen scars before. Missing fingers, milky eyes, nicked lips, tattoos having a streak of pink flesh forever ruining it. This guy must've royally pissed someone off to have his fucked up like that. Despite that, as his good eye processes you're in front of him, he clams up like a shy school girl.

No slimy smirk, no rough hands gripping at your ass, no flare of scent. His cheeks are dusted with pink and his mouth gapes. When you touch him, he stiffens just slightly, but he keeps his hands to himself. Behind you, the bassist's fingers stutter, missing his rhythm for a split second before smoothly recovering.

Leaning in, you continue to sing right into his good ear, feeling the scars on his chest through the thin shirt. Which gives your nimble fingers to the chance to feel the leather straps he had and your eyes widen.

Fuck, he must be some sort of legend here, huh? Sitting in VIP, having a fucking gun on him.

You glance at the woman behind him and you suck in a quick breath as she narrows her eyes at you. The girls around her all shoot you concerned expressions, lips pursing as they ping-pong between you and the scarred man beneath you.

Oh, shit. Were they together or something?

You pull away, attempting to keep your heart calm as you continue to play off this entire act as smoothly as you can. Lifting your hand upwards, just to tease his Adam's apple and then turn away.

But the second your hand is past his collarbones, he reacts. His grip is deadly. Your bones wheeze under the pressure and the leather gloves he wears creak along with it.

Be calm, you tell yourself. He can't shoot you in the middle of a show in front of everyone...can he?

Cold sweat beads down the back of your neck. Still, you keep your composure.

The show must go on.

He looks at your face and falters, so you offer his chin a quick brush as thanks before you swiftly turn to walk away. Your heart racing in your chest. The stage, the stage is safe.

Not if he decides to shoot you from there, you think solemnly. You shoot him another glance, and your gazes clash together. His hands are on his lap, gripping his knees instead. Far away from his gun.

You're safe.

The curtains close and you close your eyes, placing a hand over your chest as you grip onto the microphone stand. A hand grabs at your shoulder and you barely suppress the yelp when it spins you around. It's the bassist, a tall lanky alpha with his wavy hair always neatly slicked back. The entire band is standing, making their way to you with concern so evident between the crease in their brows.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

Instantly, their concern makes you annoyed. You smack his hand away and frown. You put the microphone back in its place and take out your in-ear, sighing tiredly as you walk past them.

"No, I'm not stupid, hyung." He chases after you behind stage, his bass still slung across his neck.

"Then you must be suicidal! Do you know who the hell you just groped?" Your shoulders raise and your cheeks warm. You turn to glare at him, tugging away that stupid feathered boa and scowling.

"I didn't fucking grope anyone! Shit, what's the big fucking deal? I didn't know he had a girlfriend, or wife, or madam, okay?" He shakes his head and takes steps towards you, hands raise as he emphasizes his shock.

"That's Kim Jeong-Hyun. Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun. And the woman behind him? That's his sister, Kim Seo-Yun."

"Ha-Joon-hyung, there's a million fucking Kim's in this country. Gangsters don't have a gangster-pedia, I don't know who they are, nor do I care," you say exasperatedly. Ha-Joon's hands flap around wildly for a moment as he stutters, trying his hardest it seemed to not just grab your shoulders and shake you around.

"Hyung, I'm really tired — " you turn " — and I'm not interested in knowing who they are. I'll just avoid them next time, okay? I've got an early shift tomorrow, see you."

Ha-Joon's hands drop to his side as he stares at you walking away.

"...He's fucking crazy...that kid is fucking crazy..."

A week or so after that, your life continues as normal. Your legal part-time job had been uneventful. Not much customers, and the few that were there had been polite. You hope your shady part-time job was as mundane. Arriving through the back of a seafood restaurant, you greet the dishwasher who'd been smoking as he crouched under a flickering light.

"Hey, got any leftovers from tonight?" he nods, offering you a smile as he stands. "Got some packed away for you already, left it in your room."

You beam up at him, thanking him and slipping under his arm when he opens the door for you. The restaurant was winding down, cleaning up and preparing the drunkards that'll meander in. You greet a few familiar faces, expertly getting out of their way until you finally reach the door that leads you underground.

Your room was tiny. A vanity squeezed in with one flimsy rack of clothes and a poorly ventilated bathroom. You find your dinner awaiting you and eagerly sit down to feast. But then something catches your eye.

Flowers were normal. Not wanted but easy to get rid off.

These were not flowers. You stared at the box for a moment. Chocolates? No. It's a wide box. A lot of chocolates? Sighing, you reach over and stare at the unfamiliar logo on the box, picking up the note it came with.

Keep u safe - K. JH

You blink a few times as you stare at the messy handwriting. When you look at the box again, you are torn between feeling relief that you hadn't pissed him off and feeling a bit scared that you'd apparently caught his eye. When opened, the box reveals a fucking knife. Not an ordinary kitchen knife either. It was a proper fucking knife — for hunting. Animals and people. The blade was shining under the bulbs of your vanity; the handle rough and hefty and dark. You drop the lid, taking a step back only to stiffen as a familiar voice speaks from behind you.

"Fucking weirdo, right?"

"Boss!" You turn and bow at the waist, he regards you with a smile and nod. You straighten up and turn your attention to the fucking knife on your desk sitting all pretty and safe. Next to it seemed to be its sheath, along with some sort of straps.

He bought you the whole fucking set?

"What kind of alpha gifts an omega a fucking knife? Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun, that ugly bastard," he enters the already too small room and you bump into the clothing rack to give him room. He lifts the knife and whistles, eyeing the sharp edge.

"...Do you wanna take it?" you wonder as you watch his face from the mirror. He cringes, tilting his head and hissing through his teeth as he uses the mirror to glance your way too. "And lose my fucking hand? Hell no. If any of his sisters men sees me with this? I'm as good as dead."

He slips the knife into its sheath, carefully putting it back in the box then kicking the fallen lid to your feet. He notices your dinner and picks up the plastic bowl, taking the lid off and taking a sniff. He leans on the table and shamelessly grabs the plastic spoon in the plastic to take a bite.

"I forgot to tell you not to get in their way, my mistake. I thought with a face that ugly you'd be too scared to get close anyways." He speaks through mouthfuls of rice. You lose your appetite.

"Who is he, sir?" you shifted your weight from one foot to another. He chews, swallowing thickly then answers.

"His sisters monster. Her hellhound. Nobody has any idea what hole those two freaks crawled out of, but they've been killing entire fucking gangs in the 3 years they're here. Entire bloodlines." He points the spoon your way, splashing some soup your way and you flinch as some rice sticks to your cheek. You frown, he ignores it.

"3 years, fucking insane! Burning down buildings, painting entire towns red until the leader puts his head on the floor and submits. Fucking brats, she doesn’t even use honorifics when speaking to me. That bitch."

Okay, perhaps you should have listened to Ha-Joon.

"You know I heard that once he cut off someone's arms and legs and left them crawling on the ground? Sicked his dogs on them. Heard that poor bastard's dick got torn off by some German Shepherd."

Your appetite was officially gone and your face was surely a shade of green now. He glances at the box again, shaking his head as he takes another hefty bite of your dinner.

"He give a note or something?" You squeeze the card in your hand and slip it behind you. He scoffs as you shake your head. "Yeah, thought so. 'pparently he's dimwitted. Just stay away from him next time, yeah? Hurts my heart just thinkin' of your pretty face getting ripped apart."

He pats your shoulders as he walks out. Well, there goes your dinner. For a moment, you take a moment to process what you’d been told before you reread the note in your hand.

Keep u safe — K.JH

After that night, like some ironic joke, you haven't felt safe. You feel followed. Everywhere you went, you were certain someone was there to watch. In the beginning, when the hairs on your neck prickled in the middle of your part-time job of serving people food, you thought that it was just paranoia. But then, then, you start seeing them.

Men in black caps and face masks. Women with their phone camera always tilted your way. Just in your peripheral, always avoiding your gaze and smoothly slipping away when they know that you know.

That knife was still in its box, you refused to use it. Keeping it under your bed out of all places. But lately, you swear all you can think about when you're at home is how its just right there.

Keep u safe.

Did he know something you didn't? Was he actually just trying to give you a fighting chance against these pro-stalkers? Or were you losing your goddamn mind and the stress was getting to you?

A month of this and you were already contemplating carrying a weapon that'd just get you in more trouble. What did you know about handling a knife like that?

You were scared of nicking your knuckles whenever you were cooking. Did he think you would just magically understand how self-defense worked?

You knocked on Ha-Joon's door. He's been expecting you so he opens with no trepidation. You had a backpack and a duffel bag, greeting him politely and he allows you inside his home. It's nothing grand but he had a guest bedroom and he pitied you enough.

"Thanks, hyung" he shuts the door behind you and sighs. "Don't mention it."

He was a scaredy cat but he couldn't let you keep this up. You'd been sleeping in the room backstage, putting on more concealer and constantly gazing off into nothingness. One of the band members had offered you cocaine and the second he saw you even contemplating it he knew you were at your wits end.

It's one thing to keep gangsters entertained, it's another to be dirtying your hands with the same filth.

He leads you to your room, hoping that sleeping under the same roof as another person would give your anxieties some reprieve.

You place your things down and sit at the edge of the bed, swaying a bit and he bids you goodnight for now.

When the curtains raise, he's there. Right there. In front of you, looking up at you. His sister was nowhere in sight. Instead, there's a pack of men and women behind of him. They're not even looking at you, they have other omegas or betas hanging off their arms and seem intent on keeping their gaze away from you.

He's staring at you. Tilting his head slowly, the left side of his face kept hidden in the shadows and you try to keep your heart calm but when he looks at you like that — like he wants to swallow you whole.

The lyrics slip your mind, so you play it off by glancing at the band instead and moving your body to the beat.

Breathe, you remind yourself. You're fine, you're okay, you're safe.

The flash of gore erupting behind your eyelids with every blink was not helping. Your imagination runs wild, conjuring the image of a human torso wriggling desperately on the ground as dogs viciously ripped into him as he screamed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling sharply as you shakily bring the microphone to your lips. Don't tremble, don't let your voice waver. The boss was going to cut your pay if you fuck up.

When you turn to face the crowd again, Jeong-Hyun isn't looking at you anymore. He's signing to the man closest to him, his movements short and concise. The man, who wore sunglasses, nods and then stands. He disappears into the crowd.

You slip down from the stage, as per your routine, and feel instantly trapped. The pack of his men were like maze walls, cold and uninterested. When you approached, they curl their lips in a quick huff, turning their head away and your hand hangs in the air dejectedly. The prize at the end of the maze was obvious. He was waiting for you, looking at you from over his shoulder as you feebly attempted to find someone else anyways.

It was beginning to look pathetic. Every time you did attempt to head over to the leering alphas in the back, you found long legs blocking your way.

Fuck.

You put a smile on your face and float to his side. He doesn't smile, doesn't leer, he fucking blushes. Your brows twitch but you place a hand on his shoulder and move to sit on his lap. He instantly moves to keep you steady, hand floating away from your waist and you wonder if the stalkers were truly his doing.

What kind of mobster is he? Surely a 'hellhound' would be more vicious in their pursuit. You press your chest to his shoulder, curling one hand behind him and brushing his untainted skin. He faces you and his eye was glimmering like molten gold.

When you brush under his jaw — being wary of his neck — he lashes tremble. His gaze softening at once. You experimentally cup his cheek, and he all at once leans into your hold; like a puppy.

You're stunned.

Keep u safe.

There's no way these strange men and women were because of him. It's not like he's the first person to send you gifts — although he is the first person to send you a fucking knife as a gift — and you do interact with dangerous people nightly. Perhaps he really did mean well. In his own weird way. You continue to sing on his lap and he looks up at you like you're the moon.

Monster? Him?

Perhaps the sleep deprivation and working yourself to your bones is starting to cloud your judgement but you reach behind and guide his hand closer.

He can feel it. The shape of the sheath and hilt, just under the slit of your long-dress. Not an ideal place, it’s too high. If you attempted to use it, the fur coat you wore would get in the way and you'd be wasting precious seconds. He flicks his gaze to your thighs and you can feel his gloved hands lift your dress. You squeeze your thighs, eyes widening in alarm but that deadly grip keeps you still.

He pulls the dress up and slips it over your unarmed thigh. The fur coat you wore is keeping it all concealed, so he slips his finger underneath the top band around your thigh.

Too fucking tight, Jesus Christ.

He tugs and your thighs jerk. He fixes it one-handed, seamlessly loosening it and tightening it just right. Your leg tingles in relief. The lower band is still the same, so he loosens it and tenderly strokes the hexagonal pattern that pressed into your skin. Then he fixes the knife, pulls it down so the hilt won't get stuck and just as you finish your song he slips the dress back in place and his hands float away.

When you stand, his eyes flutters close when you brush your wrist across his cheek; he takes a deep inhale and stares at you. If he could, he’d put your scent in a bottle. To savour forever. That mountain peak, that valley of rare flowers — his and only his.

Jeong-Hyun stares up at you. Honey and milk-coloured eyes glowing like the moon.

There's flowers waiting in your room this time. Dark red flowers, an unusual bouquet of exotic flowers. You shut the door behind you and inspect them, noting the card slipped between the petals.

Pretty like u — K. JH

This was a significant improvement from the knife. Your thighs prickle at the memory of his touch and you shake your head. Sitting down, you lean in to take a whiff and the blend of scents makes your ears warm. That base, a woody blend of oak and ash; a constant burning ember.

It smells like Jeong-Hyun. Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun.

He was strange. From his scribbly handwriting to his muted self; the scars on his face and body; the bashfulness he exhibits; the attentiveness he provides you with.

Those big hands adjusting the gift he gave you. Silent, admiring, courteous.

You place your arms on the desk and melt onto it, brows furrowed.

There’s no way you would ever catch yourself falling for him. You weren’t jetting to be some helpless omega ensnared in some mob romance. This wasn’t going to happen. You could imagine fucking him or being sweet with him, but could that actually happen?

You’ve had enough with loan sharks and now weird stalkers.

You just wanted to survive.

Shutting your eyes, you hide your face in your arms.

Just survive.

Everything will die down soon enough. Still, as you move to remove your coat and undress yourself — the sight of the knife holstered to your thigh as you stand naked in the mirror, it stirs something in your hindbrain. Your inner-omega, that stupid little shit, was incredibly pleased. Goosebumps spread as you remember his touch and you inch closer to the mirror.

You slip a finger under the strap and shudder. The flowers scent had permeated through the tiny room and you feel like he’s here. All over you. Close enough to feel how he burns.

Bowing your head, you curse under your breath. Slick was beginning to appear and you can’t risk stinking up this room. It’s a stupid risk and you aren’t fucking stupid. Not a damsel omega in distress.

Your stomach howling in hunger distracts you enough. Reaching for your casual wear, you hurriedly dress and shove the knife into your backpack. You glance over at the flowers as you open the door.

“...Fuck.”

The bouquet box is small enough to fit under your arm but not small enough to be inconspicuous. So you don’t flinch when the guy who guards the backdoor of the restaurant asks if you need him to dispose of it.

“Nah, these are way too nice!” you chirp out. At this, he pauses and raises his thick brow. Flustered, you bid him goodbye and rush to Ha-Joon’s idling car.

Pretty or not, you know how people would see it. An omega accepting an alphas gifts, twice now, was an obvious sign that the courting was being accepted. Ha-Joon’s displeasure at the sight of flowers was so obvious you send him a pleasing look he disregards.

“You’re really losing your head...”

“I’ll throw ‘em out! But not here, okay? What if he sees I do and he turns me into a human stick?” Ha-Joon’s face turns white and he mutters that you have an active imagination. But your lame reasoning has him reluctantly nodding so you count it as a win.

Unbeknownst to you, the sight of that bouquet under your arm had already made Jeong-Hyun’s heart flutter. He watches as Ha-Joon’s car drives off, hidden in the shadows as he takes special notice of his license plate.

You were accepting his gifts. His knife and his flowers. Jeong-Hyun felt his lips twitching and he pushed himself off the rough walls to continue keeping his eyes on the car. A lightness in his step that dissipates as he takes notice of an unnerving sight. The headlights of a car in the alleyway across from him.

Rationale should tell him this was most likely just a coincidence but his instincts bare its teeth. The car pulls out and goes along the same road that Ha-Joon’s had. He huffs through his nose, brows furrowed.

Trouble.

Jeong-Hyun’s knuckles whiten as he imprints the car's license plate to his memory.

Danger.

When it escapes from his sight, he turns sharply on his heel and makes his way to his own car. He gets inside, grinding his teeth together as he fishes his phone out from his jacket.

Keep u safe.

#s3thwrit3sstuff #male reader #reader insert #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #yandere character #yandere x male reader #yandere x you #yandere x yn

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therandompagesblog · 1 month ago

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SKZ Pack: Cast and Roles

Name: Christopher Chahn Bang Role: Pack Alpha of Straykids Pack nicknames: Chris, Alpha, Chan, Channie, Hyung, Baby Description: Chris is the pack alpha of the Straykids pack who resides in Wolfgang territory that borders Moonwood Mill. Chris is a headstrong determined leader that has built up a reputation for being one of the most dangerous werewolf packs across the universe. His pack are known for their obscure werewolf traditionalist beliefs, especially when it comes to their views on omegas. Overall he is a high-ranked Alpha and no one dares to challenge him.

Name: Minho Lee Role: First Beta, Pack Chef Pack nicknames: Min, Minho, Asshole, Beta, Devil, Alpha, Jagi Description: Minho is a hard werewolf to read. He lacks a lot of trust, which fuels his anger and hatred towards new people. Minho doesn't care about people easily and can come across as incredibly evasive and sometimes blunt. Some of the pack believe it is due to his alpha/beta complex. Overall when it comes down to it he is the one everyone trusts to handle or deal with things, because deep down he has your back.

Name: Changbin SEO Role: Beta, Pack Defense Pack Nicknames: Changbin, Bin, Binnie, SEO CHANGBIN, Description: Changbin is the pack defence leader known for his agile fighting skills. He's light and quick on his feet making it easy for him to close in on a target. Other than his fighting skills he is incredibly big-hearted and loves to comfort his pack mates. Overall he is a gentle giant.

Name: Hyunjin Hwang Role: Second Alpha, Pack torturer and interrogator Pack nicknames: Hyunjin, Angel, Devil, My Alpha, Jinnie Description: Hyunjin is another challenging pack member with a dark past. He is the most closed off but all round the most respective pack mate. He is rather calculating and loves to intimidate but may change when you get to know him. Overall, he is the most misunderstood werewolf. He is so morally grey.

Name: Jisung Han Role: Beta, pack defence and hunter Pack nicknames: Jisung, Beta, Jisungie, Baby, Description: Jisung is the most carefree werewolf who loves to live in the outdoors when he is not with his pack members. He is a sleep in the woods kind of guy. Jisung spends most of his nights hunting for raw meat to give to Minho. Overall he is incredibly laid back until put under pressure.

Name: Felix Lee Role: Beta, Pack medic Pack nicknames: Felix, beta, Lixie, baby, Angel Description: Felix is the purest werewolf in the pack and is often the most naïve out of the other werewolves. He wears his heart on his sleeve and often submits to people when he shouldn't. He does have omega tendencies which can affect the other members. Overall he is a loving man who needs someone to put him on the right path.

Name: Seungmin Kim Role: Beta, Pack torturer and interrogator Pack nicknames: Seungmin, Minnie, Little Shit, Angry Puppy, Jagi Description: Seungmin is the last beta to join Straykids. He often appears quiet and aloof but is actually calculating your moves. He can be incredibly lazy but acts when he needs to. Overall he can be incredibly caring and does put others before him.

Name: Jeongin Yang Role: Alpha, pack hunter Pack nicknames: Jeongin, innie, baby, little alpha, alpha Description: Jeongin is the last alpha and the youngest. He is still rather new to the werewolf world and has only recently phased so he does find things a struggle for him. Once he gets used to his role he can become quite protective and defensive of his pack. Overall he is the most alert werewolf and can think quite quickly.

Name: Y/N L/N Role: Omega, Pack Mate Pack nicknames: Y/N, baby, angel, puppy, little omega, omega, kitten, princess, babe, little wolf, little minx... Description: Y/N is a very nervous werewolf who has been succumbed to mistreatment of wolves. She doesn't trust easily and has a dark past. She can be often defiant and a little bit obnoxious but has an incredibly big heart. Overall she is the best omega.

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sparklingchan · 8 months ago

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Serendipity || Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Pairing: Reader(fem.) X Changbin

Word Count: 5.4k+

Warnings: Suggestive, mentions of pregnancy (the reader is not pregnant) , mentions of poison, Changbin is sweeter than sugar. Set in the Joseon Era.

Genre: Royal AU, Arranged marriage AU, fluff with very slight angst.

Description: The King of Joseon had chosen you as his queen. But there are those that wish for this union to fail. Will your love be enough to overcome the competitiveness of the Palace?

A/N: Hello everyone! Back with another installation of the SKZ Royal AU. I am genuinely in love with this one ngl. King Changbin is a rizzler y'all. Hope you guys have fun reading this <3

Do check out the other fics in the skz royal series. (The stories are not interrelated)

Here's the link to the masterlist.

Being a woman in this country is not an easy task. Especially when one is a candidate for the position of the country's Queen.

You'd dreamt of this for years, the idea sewn into every thought by your father even since you were child. With time, you'd welcomed the thought without a complaint.

"My lady, the Royal messenger is here." Somi informs you, and your nervousness just goes up by a thousand.

Did you manage to become the Queen and make your father proud? Or did you get disqualified and were now just a daughter of some minister and free to marry any other commoner like yourself?

You run down the hallway and enter the pavillion in front of your house, the colorful banners of the Royal entourage shine under the bright sun.

You straighten your robes and kneel down, head almost touching the ground, as a mark of respect for the King's verdict.

The chief Eunuch opens up the scroll in his hands.

"Please find enclosed the Royal Edict from the King's Court:

I, Seo Changbin, the King of Joseon, have chosen Miss y/n of House Kim as my wife and, by extension, the Queen of our beloved country. I have consulted the three High State Councilors and my mother- the Queen Dowager about the same and we have all unanimously agreed that she would be the best choice for the country as well as the Royal family, owing it all to her wits, beauty and manners.

Congratulations to Miss y/n and her family.

The Royal family would also like to extend an invitation to the bride-to-be to shift into the Detached Palace at the earliest as part of the customary pre wedding ritual. "

It feels as if someone had punched out the air from your lungs, you couldn't speak nor stand, while your parents and brother continuously thanked the Royal Eunuch, accepting all the gifts sent by the Palace for you.

But you couldn't move. You just stayed there, frozen. For life as you had known it has come to an end.

And thereafter begins a new, Royal chapter of your life.

"I'm going to miss you, my child."

The days since the Edict pass by in a heartbeat. All the members of your family were busy with packing your belongings while you were busy with mentally preparing yourself to leave your family and house behind forever.

Yes, you'd always wanted to be a Queen. Yes, you'd spent years getting ready for this role. Yet when the time finally comes, it hurts you to think about leaving behind twenty three years of your life.

"I'm going to miss you too, mother." On hearing your words, your mother cries harder.

But as usual, your father shows no emotion. His face is calm.

"Remember, y/n, there are no friends in the Palace other than your husband. You cannot confide in anyone but him. The other concubines will do anything to gain his favor, but you shall always be a step ahead. Be vigilant and loyal. You will make a great Queen." He says. Like the strategist he'd always been.

"Yes, father." You reply, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Your mother clinges to your arm.

"We will try and visit you whenever we can. I'm sure his Majesty will allow."

"Yes, of course. You can visit me anytime. The Palace is only a few hours from here."

"Oh, my child! How will I ever live without you!" Another sob tears out from your mother's throat. You hug her with all the love and care you could muster up in that moment.

Your father walks out of the room, hands behind his back and face twisted into a frown.

The Detached Palace is to be a temporary residence for the bride-to-be. For over the next thirty days, you would be receiving lessons on various subjects like history, Royal Etiquette, sewing, cooking and most importantly- lessons on intimacy. The last lesson is considered most important, according to Somi, since it allows you to birth as many healthy heirs as possible.

After helping you dress up for the night and setting up your bed, your maids take your leave for the night, only Somi remaining by your side.

"Do you think I'll see the King tomorrow? It's queer but I'd like to know what my future husband looks like, at least."

Somi sighs, "I don't think it's allowed, my lady. I believe you can only see his Majesty on your wedding day. A month from now."

You're oddly disappointed. You had dreamt so many nights of seeing the King, holding his hand, being by his side, yet the King in those dreams often never had a face.

Was it wrong to yearn to look at your future husband's face? Just once?

A subtle knock on your door startles the both of you.

"Yes?"

"My lady, the King is here to see you." Your handmaid almost whispers the words through the door.

With unparalleled urgency, Somi helps you straighten your clothes and rushes off towards the door.

"Your majesty." The maids and Somi greet him with the customary bow, while you purse your lips in a line, head hanging in a subtle bow.

Your heart hammers against your chest. It's so loud, you're sure even the King could hear it.

"Please give us some privacy." The King commands.

And you heart beats faster on hearing his voice for the first time. Gentle, yet authoritative, just like you'd dreamt.

When Somi closes the door behind her, you almost regret wishing to see your future husband. The proximity makes you nervous and you could only hope you'd not faint in front of him.

"My lady, you may rise."

You'd almost forgotten you were still bowing to him. You mentally slap yourself.

"Y-yes, your majesty. " your voice comes out as an embarrassing squeak, your eyes still on the ground.

You'd prayed for this moment for years, y/n. Why couldn't you just meet his eyes?

As if sensing your inner conflict, the King takes two long strides towards you and hooks his index finger under your chin, sending a chill down your body.

"My lady, please look at me."

And you do.

And he's like everything you'd ever wished for.

Perfect, like a beautifully crafted sculpture.

His soft brown locks, his rosy lips, the subtle mischief in his eyes. Everything is perfect.

"Y-yes, your majesty. Sorry." You mumble.

The king smiles, rubbing circles into your cheeks.

"You may call me Changbin when we're alone."

You nod.

"I just came to ask if you're finding your new residence comfortable. We both shall be busy with lessons tomorrow onwards so I figured tonight would be a good time to visit my bride."

His bride? His bride?

Your legs feel weak.

"I'm finding it extremely comfortable, your majesty. Thank you for your hospitality. "

Changbin let's out a low chuckle, leaning towards you. His lips hover inches above yours. And when he speaks, you feel hot air on your lips, "I told you, y/n. Call me Changbin."

You frantically nod.

"Good. Better be careful next time, my bride."

When you wake up the next morning, you're sure you'd dreamt everything that happened last night.

But apparently not.

"The King is a dashing young man." Somi teases as she lathers a concoction of herbs into your hair. "You're lucky, my lady. He seems to be a gentleman."

But you are too caught up in your thoughts to reply to her.

Did the king of Joseon really come all the way to the Detached Palace to see you? What if he's disappointed with how you had reacted? But he shouldn't blame you at all.

You had not been expecting anyone yesterday night, especially not him. But he did come to you. And he touched your chin. If you focus hard enough, you could feel his touch lingering in the area.

"My lady?" Somi clicks her fingers in front of your eyes, "Come back to earth. We have to get you ready for the classes today."

Blushing, you reply, "What classes do I have today?"

You had three classes today: Palace etiquette, literature and what Somi insists most important: lessons on reproduction.

While Palace etiquette mostly includes lesson on how to behave with Royal elders, ministers, maids, the King, literature includes important pieces of literature that are important for a woman.

And lastly, the most dreaded time arrived.

The reproduction lessons.

The tutor shows you all sorts of obnoxious hand movements and some drawings of couples in intimate positions. You feel uncomfortable from the beginning till the end.

A woman at least five decades older than you is teaching you about intimacy? Very awkward, to say the least.

But you heave a sigh of relief when the classes end for the day and you make your way to your room in the Detached palace.

"It's just the first day, Somi and I'm already tired to the bone." You say, kicking your shoes off.

"Well, it's going to be a lifetime of time this now, my lady. And you best be prepared for it."

You reply Somi with silence. But her words make you wonder. If this palace life would ever be less tiring someday? Would it even be worth it?

Perhaps not.

But King Changbin 's face flashes in front of your eyes; his sparkling eyes, mischievous grin, his feather like touch- maybe he is what will make everything worth it.

That night, after your maids get your bed ready while Somi is combing your hair, a familiar announcement echoes through the corridors of the Detached Palace.

"My lady, the King is here to see you."

His smiling face peeps through the doors as your maids hurry out of the room. He wears blue silk robes, and you feel weaker in his presence than you did yesterday.

"Did you miss me, y/n?"

And thus begins a month of secret nightly visits by the King of Joseon to the Detached Palace.

Everyday, you wake up looking forward to the time when King Changbin would come knocking at your doors, always up to some jesting.

Sometimes, he brings you fruits you'd mentioned you liked or he tells you stories from his childhood. At other times, he tells you about that one teacher he will hate till the end of time.

But most times, he spends his time listening to you talk- about everything and everyone, about the skies and gods, about ghosts and afterlife, about favourite foods and literature. After you'd overcome the initial shyness, opening upto Changbin was as easy as breathing, almost natural. Of course, you were still nervous around him, but it's a feeling you'd come to like.

Is this what the writers and poets describe as 'butterflies'?

"Do you think I'll make a good Queen?" You ask him one night. He sits in front you on a cushion, across the room, a position you told him is appropriate for two unwed people (although he did not agree to it initially).

If your nightly shenanigans were to be ever discovered by anyone, you would not want to be found in close proximity to each other even though you were betrothed to each other. He's breaking Palace rules everyday as it is.

He hums, "Of course! I think you'll make a great Queen. You're so good at your lessons already."

"That does not guarantee anything. I might not be good at taking the responsibilities."

"Do you trust my judgment, y/n? I think you'll make a great Queen. And even if you are overwhelmed, I shall always be here."

That night he leaves earlier than he usually does, owing to the fact that tomorrow is the day where his concubines are to be welcomed into the palace. Five of them.

The thought leaves you feeling bitter and dejected, but you make sure to not make those feelings obvious. This is a rule for Kings, to take as many concubines as possible to ensure the continuation of the blood line.

"Don't worry, my lady. Your rank in the palace is above these petty concubines. They will not mess with you." Somi comforts your thoughts the next day.

"But what if Changbin favors them more?"

Somi does not reply to that question.

On your 18th birthday, your father had promised to you that he would make you the Queen of this country. He kept his promise because here you are, after five years, getting dressed to be married to the most powerful man in the country.

Your father always insisted that powerful men do not love but Changbin's sparkling eyes always contradicted everything your father had taught. Nevertheless, you know the competitiveness among the concubines for the King's affection is mad. More often than not, even the Queen gets involved in petty fights.

But you try to remove all thoughts of your father and the concubines today. Because today, you are to be married to King Changbin. From today, your name will be written in the historical logs of the Royal family. From today, a new life begins.

"Are you okay, my lady?" Somi asks, "You look worried."

"I'm fine. Just hope the ceremony goes well."

The ceremony does go well and in all honesty, you were not worried about the ceremony itself. You were worried about the aftermath.

The maids guide you to your new palace, and get you dressed in white robes for the wedding night. The night when you will finally meet Changbin as his wife. The butterflies swim around in your belly.

The bed is decorated with flower petals and a few candles are lit. Everything is perfect.

"The King is here." One of your ladies in waiting announce and you get up to greet your husband.

The maids leave the room as the doors slide open and Changbin steps in, also dressed in white robes. He looks dashing, but his signature grin is nowhere to be found.

When the doors close behind him, he walks past you to the bed, the scent of liquor evident in his breath.

"Have you been drinking, your majesty?" You ask him, worried by his odd behavior.

What was wrong with him? Why wouldn't he even bother to meet your eyes?

"Changbin." He slurs, wrapping the blankets around him, "Call me Changbin."

He turns away from you and is snoring away in no time.

The butterflies in your stomach flutter around before dropping dead.

You did not sleep that night. Even though you were sleeping next to the man you love, you felt lonelier than ever.

Many times during the night, you consider walking out of the bed chamber to the servants quarter so you could talk to Somi. But you couldn't do that. Because you were now the Queen of this country and every single step you take will have its repercussions.

When morning comes, Changbin wakes up in a haste and greets you with a subtle nod and walks out of the chamber in long strides.

You well the tears back. It's your first day as Queen and hadn't he always promised to be there when you were overwhelmed? Had he lied? Or was it Changbin's doppelganger who visited you every night in the Detached palace?

Somi comes in a few minutes later with an excited smile on her face.

When she does your hair for the day, she asks, "So, how was the wedding night?"

You want to answer her truthfully - how cold Changbin had been, how he had not even looked at you let alone touch you, how you think he had changed almost overnight. But you see the prying eyes of the other palace maids and swallow your sadness.

"It was perfect. Like everything I'd ever hoped for."

"He was gentle, I hope." She says through a grin, but it feels like someone pouring alcohol on an open wound.

"Yes. He was."

As part of royal customs, the new bride is supposed to visit the senior most female member of the family and greet her. In your case, the member happens to King Changbin's mother.

Somi dresses you in the most exquisite silks and adorns your hair with the most precious flower but you feel nothing at all when everyone compliments you on the way out of your new Queen's palace.

Your mother in law's palace is a little far from the Queen's palace yet it is as beautiful as any other palace. From inside as well as outside.

"Greetings, your majesty. It is nice to meet you." You bow in front of the Queen Dowager.

The woman-not more than sixty years of age- looks at you with a gentle smile.

"Come in, y/n. Please be at ease."

You're seated in front of her on a cushion while the Queen Dowager's maids serve you breakfast.

"I hope your first day here goes well, my child. Our family is thrilled to have you." She says.

"The pleasure is all mine, your majesty. I am honored to be a part of this family." You say.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if Changbin is thrilled to have you or not. Probably not.

The mere thought of yesterday's rejection stings.

"Y/n, truth be told, my son is a quite a troubled man. His father was murdered in front of his eyes. He was made the king when he was only 16 years old. It's been 7 years since then, but the burden only gets worse. I hope you, as a Queen and as his wife, can help him lessen these burdens. Can you do that?" The Queen Dowager asks again, sipping tea from a small cup.

"I will do everything I can to help him." If only he'd let you.

"Good, good. I'm glad. And one more thing, y/n, you know as Queen one of your primary duties is to produce an heir for Changbin's throne. I hope you're working on that, yes?"

Heat reaches your cheeks. If only the poor woman knew what her dear son had done last night. If his behavior continues, perhaps it will be long before the Queen Dowager sees the face of a royal grandchild.

"We are trying, your majesty. We will not disappoint you." You reply, sipping tea from your own cup.

"Great! I shall send all types of herbs and tonics to help you conceive as fast as possible. I shall also draw up a chart after consulting the astrologer..." the Queen Dowager's voice fades into the background as your mind drifts off to the nights in the Detached palace, when Changbin would come and spend all his free time with you, against the rules of the palace. At that time, you had been sure that producing an heir would be a beautiful process, not a chore.

But Changbin does not even treat the thought like a chore.

Did he not love you? Did his Royal duties burden him too much?

When you leave the Queen Dowager's palace, you walk past The King's palace. It is as beautiful and majestic as they say. But you wonder if you'll ever be able to set foot in the same.

As if on cue, you see Concubine Jung walking out of the King's palace, her maids behind her. The butterflies in your stomach burn with jealousy.

She has a smirk on her face when she sees you.

"Eun, did you know there's a rumor around the palace that the King refused to sleep with the Queen last night? Sad, isn't it?" Concubine Jung says.

One of her maids giggle and nod, "Of course! How could the Queen even live with this shame?"

You cry yourself to sleep that night, while Somi does everything in her abilities to soothe you.

Needless to say, nothing worked.

"My lady, wake up. The King has invited you to breakfast with him." Somi informs one morning, six months after your wedding.

"Tell him I have a bad stomach bug. I cannot go."

You'd be found dead before sharing a meal with him and that obnoxious Concubine Jung. You'd shared enough meals with them already.

The past months, the King had not visited you even once but often you'd see him walking the gardens with Concubine Jung at his side.

After the first few weeks, you had no tears left to shed anymore so when the rumor came in last month that Concubine Jung might be pregnant, your eyes do not water no matter how much you force yourself to cry.

"I do not wish to congratulate them." You say, true and plain.

"My lady, he's invited only you. Not anyone else."

So you agree. As a last attempt to make your marriage work, even if it's just for your own sake.

Somi dresses you in green robes- The King's favorite. You quickly make your way to his palace, as if someone else would take your place if you didn't hurry. It's sad your thoughts had turned so negative in just half a year in the palace.

Your father had told you the King would take in many lovers during his lifetime, and that being Queen is about having power, not being loved.

But you think he didn't warn you enough. He didn't warn you how lonely it would be to sleep on the cold bed every night, how painful it would be to see the King smile at someone else.

Even if you did wish for a child, how could you produce you a child without Changbin?

"Good morning, your majesty." You say to him when you enter his bed chamber. It smells like cinnamon, a smell he'd often carry with himself back when he used to visit you at the Detached palace. Back when you were sure the king had been in love with you.

"Hello, my Queen. Please have a seat."

The butterflies dance around for a split second.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asks, taking a seat in front of you.

"Yes." Lies. "Thank you for inviting me over."

When the maids leave the both of you alone, his demeanor changes.

"Actually, y/n, I had something to talk to you about." He says, casually, as if he hadn't been hurting you everyday for the past few months.

"What is it?" You ask.

He sighs, "It's mother. Ever since that rumor of Concubine Jung being pregnant spread. She wants the first grandchild to be of the Queen."

His words do not faze you, "How can I help you, Changbin?"

He frowns. Since when had your tone become this melancholic?

"Um, so if I have your consent, I'd like to try for a child tomorrow night. We'll see how that goes, yeah?"

"Okay. I will be honored." You say.

You finish up the food quickly and almost slide the doors open when he grabs your arm from behind.

"Y/n, what is it? Did something happen? Are your parents well?"

"My parents are well enough, thank you for asking." You say, keeping your eyes on the ground.

"Then? What happened? Is it Concubine Jung? Really, you did not have to be jealous of her. She's not pregnant. I can assure you of that. I have not consummated my marriage with any one of the concubines."

His words seem to have an effect on you. Your heart blossoms with hope but you keep your face and voice neutral.

"I am not jealous, Changbin. If one of the concubines get pregnant, I shall wish you both well."

You force your arm out of his grip and walk out the palace, not looking back once.

Changbin's stares at your leaving figure, now worried beyond relief that he might have broken the one person he cared for the most by his pursuits of a greater good.

While the past few months for you had been filled with loneliness, for Changbin it was almost the same-if not worse.

The first night of your marriage was filled with as many butterflies for him, as it was for you.

He had fallen in love with you and he wasn't afraid to show the world how much you meant to him. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, make love to you. And he had all plans to do that on the first night.

But that was until he had overheard a secret conversation between Concubine Jung and her father- Minister Jung.

For all he knew, Minister Jung had always wanted his daughter to be the Queen but being the dim-wit that she was, Concubine Jung could not even get through the first stage.

"Father, it's been two days since I'd been in the palace and that man has not visited me once. He had not even asked for my name the day of the welcoming. What kind of man is he? And you say I am to be Queen!"

"Hush, child. In this palace, even the walls are listening. Be careful. And as far as the position of Queen is concerned, you need not worry. If the King does bed the Queen tonight and she get pregnant, we shall make sure her pregnancy terminates before maturity. I have connections with all sorts of medicine vendors in the country, be assured, she shall never see the face of a child. After we weaken the Queen, we can take her throne as easily!"

Changbin had wanted to laugh at the man's foolish plans but deep down, he was worried as well. For you.

Which is why he pushed you away for so long and kept Concubine Jung close. While she tried everything in her power to seduce him, he refused her under the pretense of keeping an oath of abstinence for a year.

Every time she tried to even hold his hand, Changbin thought of you; your innocent eyes, your talks, your wit, your hands, your beautiful hair. No woman could make him feel like you do.

Changbin's secret informants had confirmed that Minister Jung had not one but two houses full of gold and cash he'd collected as illegal taxes from the local people. He'd also sometimes force husbands to send their wives to him in exchange for money. Even the thought nauseated Changbin.

Every time Concubine Jung visited, he made sure to collect some sort of evidence through her. He even visited her every night and while she snored away, he stole some of her gold jewlery and clothes to get them checked as evidence of the illegal taxes her father had been collecting.

And sure enough, after a few months of spying on her and her father, Changbin had gathered enough evidence by now to expose both of them at the court.

But he realised quickly that Minister Jung had a few tricks up his sleeves as well. The rumor of his daughter's pregnancy would make it difficult for Changbin to expose him easily, and so Changbin waited every night that the rumors would die down so he could run to the Queen's Palace and hug you with all his might. You were not safe unless the father and daughter were deposed.

And for some selfish reasons, Changbin had hoped you'd understand the reason behind his distance. But no woman could find a logical reason behind her lover being absent and it was horribly wrong for him to expect you to do the same.

"Are you stupid?" His friend, the eccentric dancer Minho had asked him.

Changbin had told him how coldly you'd behaved this afternoon when he'd asked you if you wished to try for a child. Most women would giggle and blush. But you were like a statue.

"You push her away for months and make her feel lonely and not loved and what not and you have the audacity to ask her that?"

"Well, yes. Mother had been pressuring me for a child and obviously, even with the pressure, I would never do anything that y/n would not have wanted but I thought it would be a great way to reconnect with her. Even if it didn't end in child making or whatever."

Minho let's out a frustrated groan, "You have to learn so much, Bin. But let's start with this- be honest with her. She's your wife and you ought to tell her everything. Give answers to all her questions and hold her hand if she let's you. Small steps first, a child can wait."

Changbin nods, " Okay, should I go to her right now?"

"Yes, you idiot!" Minho says, earning a slap on the arm from The King of Joseon.

He should be glad he's not being beheaded for calling the King an idiot.

You're almost done getting ready for bed when the lady in waiting makes an unexpected announcement .

"My lady, the King is here to see you."

Your heart leaps and the butterflies come alive again only to die down once you realise why he might be there. For a child. Isn't that why he's here? Isn't that why people get married in the first place?

"Y/n." He sighs when he enters the room, almost out of relief. He purses his lips.

"Is there anything I could help you with?" You ask.

Oh, how badly he'd hurt you. He could see the hurt in your eyes, in your voice, in your mannerisms.

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I really am. I know I have caused you pain and I cannot imagine how lonely it must have been. But I hope you know that I really do love you and only you."

"Then why the distance? Why visit Concubine Jung every night?" You ask, hands on your hips.

The tears that had left you threatened to return again.

And he tells you everything. From the conversation he overheard to how insistently Concubine Jung asked him for a child to how much solid proof he'd collected over the months and how he'd sent those evidences to the Minister of Security, who in turn ensured that by tomorrow the Jungs will out of the palace and be imprisoned for life.

It all makes sense to you now, of course it does. Yet you feel guilty. He'd been trying to protect you, all this while.

"I'm sorry, Changbin. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I only-"

"Don't apologize, y/n. It's me that should apologize. I should have somehow tried to contact you and tell you about everything. I'm-"

"No, no, Please. Don't. You only tried to protect me and-"

"No, y/n, it's all my fault, please-"

Somi overhears the entire conversation through the door, her mind finally relaxing after the misunderstanding had been solved between you and the King. She could no longer stand you being this sad. And she somehow knew King Changbin had his own reasons for his behavior.

She hears soft sounds of kissing through the door and takes it as a sign to move away from the door, and join the other maids waiting outside the palace door. She smiles to herself.

The butterflies burn with passion.

"I do not wish for a child this early. I want to be here like this with you for a while, just y/n and Changbin and maybe two or three years later, we could try for a child. What do you think?"

When he kissed you initially, you half expected this to end up in the bed. But it did. And you're glad it did.

The butterflies bloom more than ever.

You're wrapped in his arms, tightly. The nakedness no longer bothering the either of you.

"I agree. I want to be this close to you every night, not as a Queen or the mother of your child. But as y/n. As your wife."

Changbin draws his face closer to you, pecking you on the lips, "And so you shall, my love."

And so you shall.

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