#and the fics bang
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my fav part of being in the sherlock fandom is i don’t rlly ship johnlock all that much but i love sitting here and clapping my hands like a cymbal monkey at all the art
#me see funny men me clap#sherlock holmes#sherlock#bbc sherlock#acd holmes#it’s just pure vibes tbh#like all the fanart is so yummy#and the fics bang#but if someone were to ask me if i shipped them#id prolly say not really#while reading the most angsty well written johnlock fic ive ever read#but i do live for the queer coding in the acd canon books#watson and i are quite frankly the same#cause i get him#i too would be the gayest little man if my roomie was that hot
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something stranger and more wonderful
(ID in ALT text)
my art for @faux-fires (ao3 Link) fic "something stranger and more wonderful"
beta red by @ranilla-bean (ao3 Link) for this years @zukkabigbang2024 event. its truly a beautiful fic. Keeping you on your toes while reading. making you worry about sokka exposed to the whims of nature and zuko, all alone.
big thank you to reikah and rana for all the handholding during this project! And stoping me form overthinking details.
#atla#zukka#sokka#zuko#zukka big bang 2024#zukkabb24#the funnyest thing here is how full cycle this project went!#i posted on a whim last year mere zuko#reikah had an idea to write the fic#well here we are a year later#funny how things somtimes go!#thanks again for the patience reika and rana showed to me during this project -praying-
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night again
pairing: bang chan x female reader
summary: in hindsight, visiting chan's studio right before a comeback isn't one of your best ideas. what was supposed to be a pleasant surprise leaves you spiraling into self-doubt, wondering if chan even wants to be in a relationship with you at all.
word count: 6.4k
tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, insecurities, reader not eating due to stress
a/n: the long awaited 'he calls you clingy' fic! title is from the english translation of 또 다시 밤 (twilight)
read it on ao3 | masterlist
You love your job. It's challenging for sure and the expectations from upper management are often unforgiving, but you’re proud of how hard you've worked and everything that you've accomplished in the past few years at your company.
As you've gained experience, you've slowly been given more and more responsibility. You've grown out of your junior role and though you're thrilled by the pay raise and prospect of being a team lead rather than being led by one, it's also daunting.
When you and your new team are assigned an important project with tight deadlines, you're determined to prove yourself. It's implied that you're going to have to have to dedicate a significant amount of time to finish it and while you're no stranger to long hours, it means that any plans you have of seeing your boyfriend, Chan, are out the window.
The timing is not terrible, Stray Kids has a comeback scheduled in about a week so you didn't think that you would be able to spend that much time with Chan anyway, but you usually try to surprise the boys at one of the music shows with a cake and some home cooked food.
Luckily, you've already been planning for this. Although nothing had been confirmed, you had expected that this project would be awarded to your company and you've already been trying to spend more time with Chan than usual in preparation for the busy season ahead for both of you.
Still, you can't help but agree with your best friend at work after she complains how little she's going to see her partner this month. Jinjoo doesn't know who your boyfriend is, but the two of you are close enough that you’ve shared that you have one and that work takes up a lot of his time. You've gushed to her about the sweet things that Chan has done for you and you've admitted that you think he's the one.
“You should bring him dinner sometime!” she exclaims when you mention you're not sure when the next time you'll be able to see Chan will be.
“Well, he’s really busy-” you start to say.
“That’s the beauty of it. I’m sure he would appreciate if you brought him food at work, especially if he’s anything like my partner and gets so caught up with work that they forget to eat sometimes,” she insists.
“That’s true.”
“Just trust me, Y/n. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t sure that it’d work. My partner loves when I do this. It’s literally the perfect way to take some time for each other before you’re both too busy. Even if he's super busy, his work can't be bad enough that he’s not allowed to eat, right?”
You agree somewhat reluctantly. You're still unsure about whether or not Chan would appreciate you barging in unannounced, but it is a cute idea and Jinjoo's confidence is enough to convince you.
The next day after work, you head to the company and order takeout for a late dinner for you and Chan, picking it up along the way. It reminds you of earlier in your relationship before you had gotten your current position and when Stray Kids were just gaining popularity. Both of you enjoyed having more casual date nights that provided more privacy as opposed to going out to fancy places and it makes you even more excited to see his reaction.
About a year after you started dating Chan, he insisted that you get a pass to get into JYP Entertainment without having to fill out a visitor's form and have someone pick you up. It has definitely come in handy more than a few times, although you try to limit the number of visits you make. Even though you're allowed to be there, it still feels intimidating to be in the building, like someone is going to recognize that you're not an employee and accuse you of being a sasaeng.
Luckily the late hour means that you make it to Chan's studio without having to interact with anybody except the security at the door, who had waved you through without a second thought. You had double checked with Felix earlier in the day to make sure that Chan didn't have any schedules or dinner plans, so you directly knock on his door without texting or calling him beforehand.
“Y/n?” he asks, a bit baffled when he sees you. “Did we- Did I forget that we had plans tonight?”
“No,” you say, a little nervous for some reason. It's just Chan, you tell yourself, but it doesn't make you feel any better. “I didn't think that you had dinner yet and wanted to see you.”
“Oh, I see. Come in,” Chan responds slowly, still processing your sudden appearance. “I just have something that I need to finish up-”
“It's fine! You can work,” you assure him quickly. “I don't want to interrupt you too much, I just wanted to drop by since I don't have plans and wanted to make sure that you're eating well.”
Chan’s studio isn’t messy at all, but he still gets up to clear some space on a side table for you, before returning back to where he has Cubase opened up. You pass over his food and feel relieved when he immediately digs in, but your appetite seems to have vanished, you can only get yourself to pick at your meal.
Chan is short with his responses all evening and continues to work on his laptop, even while eating. It throws you off a bit, you thought that he would be able to get to a stopping point and at least make a bit of time for you, but you did tell him that he could. Even so, you're determined to make the most of the last time that you’re going to see them for a while. You know they’ve been super busy the past few days, or more like the past few weeks, but still you had thought he would be a little bit more engaged or at the very least seem happy to see you.
Finally, after half an hour of eating with minimal conversation, you decide to broach the subject that’s been on your mind this entire time. Chan’s finished his food and you know that you won’t be able to get yourself to eat anymore, so you shuffle everything off to the side and inch closer to Chan.
“You know that client we’ve been trying to work with for a while?” you start tentatively.
Chan hums noncommittally, continuing to type on his computer. Not quite the reaction that you're hoping for, but you forge on anyway.
“We got awarded the job! It’s a great opportunity for the company and everyone is really excited, but-”
“Y/n,” he interrupts. “I’m sorry, that’s amazing and all, but you know that it’s not a good time for me right now. I have something I really need to work on and now that you’ve finished eating, can we please not bother with the small talk?”
“Oh,” you say, a bit caught off guard. Chan has never been the type to cut you off when you're speaking. “No, yeah, I get it. Uhm. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, just-” he sighs, sounding frustrated. “Next time can you please ask me when you want to visit in advance so this doesn’t happen again? You chose the worst timing to come by. I just need some space, from all of… this,” he says, waving a hand between the two of you.
“Sorry, I know it’s a busy time, but I just wanted to see-”
At that moment, an alarm on Chan's phone goes off, interrupting you. When he turns it off and notices the time, he swears lowly, unlocking his phone and typing out a message to somebody. You’re scared to break the silence. Less than a minute later, someone knocks on the door.
“Come in,” Chan calls. When Changbin and Jisung step into the room, they eye you curiously. You keep your head down and try to prevent your hands from shaking as you stand and start to haphazardly shove away all your belongings and the garbage from your dinner into bags.
“Noona, it's good to see you!” Jisung says brightly, although his smile dims when you make eye contact and can only manage to weakly return the smile. “Sorry for interrupting you two.”
“Hi Hannie,” you reply quietly, not wanting to make conversation, but not wanting to be rude.
“It’s okay, Y/n was just leaving,” Chan says, his obvious annoyance making things even more awkward.
You say bye to the boys quietly and apologise as you shuffle past them to the door.
The handles of the bag from your dinner are digging into your hand painfully and your purse can’t close with the way that you’ve thrown everything into it. You only take a few steps before you have to stop for a moment to save a container from falling and decide to put down everything and reorganise it all.
When you crouch down, you take a second to mentally berate yourself. Everything you had worried about had come true. Instead of being a pleasant surprise, you had come across as a nuisance.
In your rush, you hadn't fully closed the studio door behind you and you're close enough that you can just barely pick up the conversation that happens inside.
“Sorry,” you hear Chan say faintly. “I don't know what's been going on, but Y/n has been… really clingy these days. She just showed up today without asking and I hate-”
You leave before he has the chance to say anything else. You look like a mess for sure, you had just grabbed all the empty containers without bothering to put them back into the plastic bag, your jacket is partially dragging on the ground, and your purse is hanging off your elbow, having slipped off your shoulder. You're pretty sure you hear an empty drink bottle clatter to the floor behind you, but you don't look back to check.
You don't have it in you to care, you just need to leave.
Even waiting for the elevator feels humiliating, so you bypass it and stumble down the stairs. You dump the garbage into a bin on the first floor, not bothering to sort it properly, and step out onto the street, bee-lining to the nearest subway station.
The ride home passes by in a blur.
It hurts, of course it hurts.
Honestly the reason that your relationship had worked out so far was because you weren’t the kind of person that needed a lot of attention. You understood that both of you were busy and were content to just exchange messages every couple of days because you knew how important Stray Kids was to Chan. Of course you did, they were just as important to you.
If Chan wanted space, well. You were more than capable of giving it to him.
In fact, your upcoming schedule had been the reason that you had wanted to meet up in the first place, the source of your so-called clinginess. You’d never been called that before. You were hyper-independent and tended to get lost in your own mind, easily distracted by different thoughts. It had gotten to a point that most of your exes had complained at least once about you being distant or inattentive.
With Chan, you had been determined not to be the same. It had been difficult at first, to make the effort to send messages throughout the day. You had to convince yourself not to spend too long drafting replies in your head and try not to worry that you were bothering him, especially if you knew that he had schedules at the same time that you were texting.
By the time that you make it to your apartment, your pain has faded into a mixture of resignation and numbness. You don't want to talk to Chan about how you feel, it's your clinginess that he didn't like in the first place, and you don't think you'll have time or the energy for a long, emotional conversation in the next few weeks anyway. If you keep your distance for a while, it just benefits both of you, you tell yourself. You won’t be a distraction to Chan as Stray Kids has their comeback and he won’t be one to you as you take on this new project.
As much as you want to spend the rest of your night overthinking- something you’ve done more than you’d like to admit- you know that you have a busy day at work tomorrow. Feeling a bit like a zombie, you force yourself to shuffle through your usual nighttime routine, swallowing a melatonin pill before climbing into bed.
Normally, you would send Chan a good night message. Actually, normally you would have sent him a message the second that you arrived home. It was something that he was insistent on starting from early on in your relationship, wanting to make sure that you were safe.
Tonight, you just turn off your phone, plug it into its charger, and sleep.
—
In the morning, you allow yourself to wallow in bed for 5 minutes, before you get ready for work. You’ve never been good at eating breakfast and today’s no exception. Your stomach turns uneasily at the thought of food so you only force yourself to drink some water before you leave.
Your team at work has agreed to get to work earlier than usual just to get a headstart on everything. Though you’re more of a night owl, you’re grateful to find that deviating from your usual routine means that the subway is empty enough that you can find an empty seat, a luxury that you’ve rarely experienced.
It feels eerie to walk through the streets of Seoul when the sun has just started to rise and you’re relieved when you finally make it to your office.
Unsurprisingly, you’re one of the first to arrive. You’re grateful for the time that you have to unpack your things and make a much needed coffee before the rest of your team shows up.
“How did it go last night?” Jinjoo asks you excitedly when she comes in.
“Uhm, it was okay,” you reply noncommittally. “He was definitely surprised.”
“Oh,” Jinjoo pouts at your lack of enthusiasm.
“I mean, it wasn’t bad,” you backtrack, hating to see her disappointed. “It was just so short, he was kind of… busy. But that’s what I expected anyway so that's fine I guess. Thanks for suggesting it to me though! I really appreciate it.”
“That’s good,” Jinjoo brightens. “At least you got to see him one last time.”
“Oh yeah for sure! I think that after seeing him yesterday, it’ll be easier to deal with how busy we’re going to be for the next few weeks,” you say truthfully.
It’s not a lie, you justify. For the first time since you started dating, you’re not looking forward to the next time that you’re going to see Chan.
You know that your communication is about to reduce to an all time low for the next few weeks, and while you had originally been worried about how Chan would react, now you’re thinking that he’s just going to be relieved not to hear from you. You’ve never thought yourself to have been overly chatty with Chan during the day though, preferring in-person conversation over texting and knowing that he’s generally not available to read your messages anyway, much less send you a reply. It seemed that you were wrong.
Luckily your team now has to use a shared box that you’re required to put your personal phones into during working hours and only have a little bit of time during lunch and dinner breaks, if you take them, to fish them out. It’s a policy that your company enforces when teams are working on confidential projects and you can’t blame them due to past litigation that they’ve been involved in after a former employee leaked sensitive information.
For once, you're glad for this excuse to not look at your phone, even if you feel a little bit naked to look at the side of your desk or reach into your pocket and not have your phone there. You’re relieved to bury yourself in your work and forget all about your personal life. Even though your project is just starting, you feel like you're already behind.
When you're finished work for the day and take back your phone, you find yourself reluctant to check your notifications. It's only when you're waiting for the subway to arrive at your station that you finally force yourself to take a look.
No new messages or calls from Chan.
You’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you’re still disappointed.
You get back to your apartment late, you had wanted to finish a couple of things before you left the office and it had led to you being one of the last to leave. You had also stopped by the convenience store closest to your place, not having the energy to cook anything for yourself.
You pick at your dinner half-heartedly. You're used to eating alone, Chan often had his meals at odd times due to his schedules, but tonight the silence feels more oppressive.
It haunts you, the tail end of the overheard conversation. You have no idea how Chan was going to complete the sentence, but your mind unhelpfully fills in the blanks with worse and worse suggestions.
He hates the timing of your visit.
He hates that you visited at all.
He hates that he has such a clingy girlfriend.
He hates that you are his clingy, annoying, bothersome girlfriend.
He hates you.
In moments of clarity, you can recognize that it's not true. That's not the Chan that you know and he would never say something like that about anybody, least of all you. It's just hard when a small part of you has never really been able to believe that someone as talented and amazing as Chan would want to date someone as unremarkable as you.
You find yourself falling into a new routine, waking early, working overtime, and trying not to cry yourself to sleep. You succeed most of the time, you keep yourself occupied by thinking about work and you're so physically exhausted by your long hours that you fall asleep the second that you get into bed. Luckily, your coworkers are just as overworked as you are and it’s easy to blame your declining condition on the project. Weekends don't help you rest at all, you've committed to your manager that you can work on Saturdays and Sundays are spent completing the chores that you've neglected during the week.
You still talk to Chan sometimes, either right when you wake up or on the way home after work. The conversation is stilted though, both because of the long delays between messages when you text and the limited time that you have when you call. It's enough of a difference that Chan asks you multiple times if everything is okay. Even though you try your best to assure him that you're fine, just busy, you're sure he knows that something is off, although he doesn't question you further.
Most exciting is the day that the new Stray Kids album releases. You've already heard most of the songs for this comeback, perks of dating the member that's the most involved in the writing and production of the album, but it's different now that they're available to the public too. You make sure to organise your schedule so that you're on break when the music video drops and you send a number of messages in the group chat that you have with the group cheering them on. Usually, you try to take a day off to deliver some food to them at the music shows, but you've had to settle for arranging with one of their managers to treat them to a meal.
You can tell when they get breaks because when you check your phone after work, notifications from the members are all in the same blocks of time. It's mostly them thanking you, taking pictures of the food you sent, flowers that they've been gifted, and letters from fans. They have a short promotion period this comeback, but it's packed with different interviews, performances, and fanmeets. At one point, Felix even sends you a picture of Chan sleeping slumped over on one of the waiting room couches. As much as you're relieved to see that he's able to get some rest, the picture has your stomach twisting uncomfortably.
You're proud of Chan, of all of the boys. They've worked so hard and each comeback seems to be more and more successful. Even if you're not confident in what's going to happen with you and Chan in the future, you want to celebrate with them while you still can.
—
After almost four weeks, your project is nearing completion and you've never been more grateful to have a deadline arrive.
You only have a couple more days left until your last submittal is due and after getting off work, you want nothing more than to collapse into bed even though your stomach has been growling the whole walk from the bus to your building. You had caught a significant mistake in a document right before it was going to be sent to a client and the whole afternoon had been spent trying to fix it in time. Your team had just barely managed it, but your head has been pounding for hours and your whole body is tight with stress.
You’re not quite sure how you make it to your apartment, your exhaustion has made you clumsy. You struggle a couple times to enter in the code to unlock your door and trip over a pair of shoes that are scattered in the entryway.
You manage to catch yourself before you fall, then squint back. Yes, you haven’t had the chance to tidy your apartment in a couple weeks, but you’ve never been the type to leave your shoes on the walking path.
A light is on, further in your apartment. You know for a fact it wasn’t like that when you left this morning, it would have been obvious since you've been leaving before the sun rises. Someone else is here.
You stare at the light for a few seconds in disbelief, then slowly reach to grab something, anything that you might be able to use to defend yourself. Your shaking hands close around a full sized umbrella that you keep beside your closet.
You’ve already made enough commotion that there’s no way the intruder didn’t hear, but you try to keep your footsteps light as you creep down the hall to where your kitchen is. It’s stupid to try and confront them, but the idea of someone in your space, potentially taking your things, is enough to inspire a sudden bout of bravery.
You hold your breath as you turn the corner, launching forward to attack the second that you see someone. You recognise the figure halfway through your swing, and though it’s too late to fully stop, you manage to pull back enough that they’re able to easily catch the umbrella before it hits them.
Chan wraps his arms around you then eases the umbrella out of your hands, resting it against the wall. You sag into his embrace, adrenaline draining away, leaving you exhausted again.
“Chan?”
You've missed this. His warmth, his comforting scent, the reassuring steadiness that he always provides. You can almost pretend that everything is fine.
“Sorry for scaring you,” he says, sounding more amused than apologetic.
“You should be,” you grumble into his shirt. “I could have seriously injured you if I didn't realise it was you!”
“I don't think that was going to be a problem.” Even though you can't see Chan, you can hear the grin in his voice.
“Hey!” You lightly smack his arm. “You take that back!”
“Fine, fine,” Chan acquiesces, holding up both his hands in surrender. “I'm very glad that I didn't have to experience the full power of your self defence.”
“Yeah yeah,” you huff. “What are you doing here anyway? Other than trying to give me a heart attack, that is.”
“I made you dinner,” Chan says shyly, turning pink.
“For what?” you ask suspiciously. It's easy to fall back into the banter that you typically exchange with Chan, but you can't help but be a bit wary these days.
“No reason. I uh, just haven't seen you in a while,” Chan says sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck where it’s now flushed red. “We had so much preparation to do and then all our schedules… Anyway, I wanted to surprise you, so I thought I could cook for us.”
Now that he's mentioned it, you can see that he's set your tiny kitchen table and that there's a couple of pots on the stove. Chan doesn’t cook often, but he’s expressed a desire to learn before and you’ve taught him how to make a few of your favourite recipes.
You stare at him for a moment, lost for words.
It's only been a few weeks, but you feel like you've forgotten how to act around Chan. Instead of a comfortable silence, it's almost awkward, neither of you knowing what to say.
“Oh,” you say finally, touched and still a little shocked that he's actually here. “That's- that's so nice, I just- is it okay if I wash up a bit quickly first?”
“No, yeah, of course. I'm sure you had a long day,” Chan says. “Go ahead, I’ll- the food should be reheated anyway so I’ll get on that. Take your time.”
You skirt around him to go to the bathroom, taking a moment to splash yourself with water. This feels like a bizarre dream and you wonder for a moment if you’re making this all up. But when you leave to go to your bedroom, Chan’s still there, puttering around in front of your kitchenette. You change your clothes slowly, mind racing as you try to puzzle together why Chan has decided to visit all of a sudden.
You eventually settle on the most logical reason that you can think of.
He’s finally decided to break up with you.
You’ve figured that this was coming for weeks by now, but somehow it still hurts. Instead of feeling resigned, it feels like you’re shattering into little pieces. You twist your work blouse into a tiny ball as you try not to cry, even though you know the fabric is going to wrinkle terribly. You finish cleaning up in a daze, already drafting what you're going to have to message your manager later. There's no way that you're going to be in any shape to work tomorrow if you’re right.
“Y/n?” Chan calls eventually. You know you're procrastinating leaving your room, but you want to put this off for as long as possible even though you know it’s just delaying the inevitable. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” you reply with a heavy heart. “I’m fine. I'll just be another second.”
You can tell that Chan doesn’t quite believe you. He hovers around you when you emerge from your bedroom, knocking away your hand when you try to pull out your own chair from the table.
He's set the table, going so far as to fold little napkins under your utensils. There's even a tiny vase with your favourite flowers as a centrepiece. All this effort just hurts more.
“You look exhausted. You got home so late. Where were you?” he asks.
“I was at work,” you reply stiffly. You know that if you try and say any more, your emotions are going to spill over and you're either going to scream or cry. Maybe both.
“So late?” Chan's forehead creases with some sort of emotion. You can't quite tell if it's concern or scepticism.
“You're not the only one that has a demanding job.”
“Y/n, you know that's not what I meant-”
“Sure,” you say. “Whatever, let's just eat. Thank you for the food.”
You don't want to deal with this. You're so tired.
You have no idea why Chan’s dragging this out longer than it needs to be. Why he’s forcing you to sit through a meal with him like he’s not about to break your heart. Chan is one of the kindest people you know, he’s probably trying to make this easier for you, giving you one last nice memory, but it just feels cruel.
Chan reaches out, stopping you before you can pick up your chopsticks. He stares at the way his fingers overlap each other around your wrist.
“You’ve lost weight,” he says quietly. You look away, watching steam curl from the bowl of rice that has been set in front of you instead of returning eye contact.
“I’ve been busy.” Is all you can say in response.
You don’t want to tell him that you’ve been basically subsisting on iced americanos and various convenience store meals in part because of your work schedule, but mostly because of your lack of appetite. Every time you thought of Chan, it made your stomach turn and well, everything reminded you of him. You hadn’t realised how much it had actually affected your physical condition until now though.
“You're not taking care of yourself,” he scolds you. You can feel yourself bristle at his comment even though you know it’s true. “I haven't been around to take care of you either. I'm sorry.”
“Chan,” you protest. It has been weeks since you last saw him in person and you’ve spent more time that you’d like to admit micro analysing your relationship, but you still can’t make sense of his behaviour, especially how he keeps switching between criticism and tenderness.
“What?” he asks in genuine confusion.
“Why are you here?”
“I missed you,” Chan says, sounding hurt and confused. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”
“I just- I don’t understand what you want from me!” You run your hands through your hair in frustration. “One day you don’t want me around, we go weeks without seeing each other, then you’re at my place cooking me dinner? You said you needed space, I gave you space."
“Woah woah woah, what do you mean I don’t want you around?” Chan asks, alarmed. “When have I ever said that?”
“You made it pretty clear that you didn’t appreciate it when I went to bring you dinner that day,” you start.
“No, baby!” Chan stands up abruptly before you can say anything else. He falters when the loud scrape of his chair causes you to flinch back. He slowly walks towards you and kneels in front of you, reaching out to hold your hands in his. His eyes are wide with earnestness. “Of course I wanted to spend time with you. I always want to be with you.”
“So why did you call me clingy?” you ask in a small voice. Gone is your anger, replaced with a self-consciousness that you can’t hide. You look away as tears prickle your eyes.
Gently, Chan lets go of your hands and cups your cheeks instead, turning your face so that he can see you better. His thumbs swipe under your eyes, brushing away the tears that have managed to escape.
“Baby,” he says, sounding even more upset and angry than you feel. “I'm sorry. Did someone tell you I said that?”
“Nobody had to tell me, I heard you say it myself!” you burst out, pushing Chan away. You know that you’re being dramatic, that you keep oscillating between different emotions, but you don’t care. “That day, in your studio, you told Han and Changbin that I was really clingy.”
“You heard me talking to Binnie and Hannie?” Chan asks slowly.
“I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sniffle. One of Chan's hands shifts and he carefully tucks behind a lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face. The gentleness makes even more tears well up.
“It's okay, I think I know what you overheard now. It must have hurt, right?”
You can't muster up a response, choosing instead to just nod slightly.
“I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” he soothes you. “Can I explain myself?”
You pause for a moment, then slowly nod again.
“I don't mind that you're clingy, actually, I like it. I shouldn't have used that word. I like that you want to spend time with me, Y/n,” Chan says carefully. “I like that you take time to visit me, even though I know that your work is busy too. I think that it's cute and thoughtful that you think of me and try to take care of me by bringing me food. I know that you intentionally take the time out of your day to text me because you know that I like hearing from you, even though I might not see it or respond right away.”
Chan pauses for a second and you use it as an opportunity to pull away slightly. His hands tighten briefly, before he lets them fall away, giving you the space to process.
It's not that you don't like what Chan is saying, it's just hard to reconcile it with the thoughts that have been eating away at you for the past few weeks. You still don't understand what you overheard though, how it fits into all of this. When you voice your concerns to Chan, he sighs, before continuing to speak.
“I don't know what I did to have someone as caring and thoughtful as you in my life.” You want to protest, but Chan carries on before you can say anything. “It's just that- you visited me without notice and were the sweetest person in the world. I wanted to spend time with you, believe me, I did, but I can't just ignore my deadlines when the rest of the members are relying on me. It makes me feel like garbage when I can’t give you all my attention. That's the thing I hate the most. That I can't be the boyfriend that you deserve. That I can't show you how much you mean to me the way that I want to.”
It makes sense, in some sort of twisted way. You know that similarly to you, Chan often feels insecure. It had taken a while before you had been able to convince him that you really did want to be in a relationship with him even with all of the difficulties that were associated with being an idol. You hadn't realised that your visit had fed into his worries that he wasn’t enough.
“I didn't know,” you say quietly. “I'm sorry.”
“Hey, I didn't tell you how I was feeling and that's on me. I’m the one that’s sorry, you have no reason to be. I should have been clearer about what was going through my mind and it wasn't any excuse for the way that spoke to you. Even if I wasn't at my best, I can't believe that I made you feel like I didn't want you to be around.” Chan shakes his head and you can tell that he's beating himself up about it. This time, you're the one that reaches out to him, grabbing one of his hands in both of yours.
“I am sorry that I put you into that position, though. I got caught up in the idea of how fun and romantic it might be, that I didn't give enough consideration to your schedule. Even though I wanted to surprise you, it would have been better to check with you beforehand. I don't ever want you to have to feel like you have to choose between me and work.”
“It was a really nice surprise,” Chan agrees. “I wish that I hadn't been so wrapped up that I wasn't able to enjoy spending time with you. I really hated not being able to see you these past few weeks.”
“It was really hard for me too,” you admit.
“I missed you so much. I missed your beautiful voice, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. I missed all the texts that you usually send, they make me feel like I'm not as far away, that I'm a part of your day too. You kept saying that everything was fine and- I know it's hard for you, especially during comeback periods when I'm not as responsive. I didn't want to pressure you into messaging me more often if I'm not able to do the same.”
“No, it's not that. It doesn't bother me. Work was, is still really busy for me,” you explain. “I was trying to tell you that day, but-”
“But I basically shut you down,” Chan realises. He laughs bitterly. “I’m just the worst, aren't I? No wonder you were so confused by why I was here.”
“I thought you were going to break up with me tonight,” you whisper. Chan looks devastated by your statement.
“No- you know I wouldn't-” Chan stumbles on his words in his haste to correct you.
“I don't think that anymore,” you reassure him. “I understand everything now, it was just that we didn't communicate well and I assumed… It's okay, we're together now, this won't happen again.”
“I promise that I will make it up to you. I love you and I will prove it to you in every way possible. And I'm going to start right now. You still haven't eaten yet, please go ahead.” Chan moves back to his abandoned chair and doles out a portion of the stew from the pot that's on the table.
“I am really hungry,” you confess. Your stomach chooses that exact moment to growl loudly and the two of you can’t help but burst into laughter.
Just like that, it feels like things are back to normal.
You know that there's still more that you and Chan have to talk about. The two of you have only scratched the surface on your insecurities, communication, and how those things led to such a significant misunderstanding.
But tonight, it's enough that you get to share a meal with the man that you love.
read it on ao3 | masterlist
#night again#chahnniesroom#skz fanfic#skz angst#skz fic#skz x reader#skz x female reader#stray kids angst#stay kids x female reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#skz x you#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#bang chan angst#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#chan x reader#chan angst#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#chan x you#chan x y/n#chan x female reader#skz imagines#stray kids#chan#bang chan#skz fluff
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PHOTOS YOU'VE TAKEN OF YOUR BOYFRIEND CHAN
please don't repost, requests open!
#skz#skz headcanons#stray kids headcanons#skz scenarios#skz fics#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz reactions#skz bang chan#bang chan#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#bang chan fluff#bang chan imagines#skz fluff#stray kids
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There was always a certain shift that happened in Batman whenever he talked to kids that were hurt or scared. He would speak more softly, maybe even kneel down in front of them to personally assure them that they were safe now.
My first piece for this year's @batfam-big-bang! This is a scene from the incredible fic by @fullmetalninjabunny called 'Soft Words Left Unspoken' which you can find here <- 🦇 I had a blast working on this! Thank you so much for having me and also thank you to the mods for a great event <3
Image ID:
An image of Tim Drake as Robin and Bruce Wayne as Batman inside the Batcave. Both characters have their masks off. Tim is sitting on top of a medical bed and is looking to the side with tears streaming down his face. Bruce kneels down in front of him, looking troubled. He is holding Tim’s Mask in his right hand. In the foreground are four boxed captions with the following text, “It wasn’t Batman who was there anymore, but Bruce Wayne. Not the vigilante that had lost a protégé, but the man who has lost his son.”
#batfam big bang 2024#tim drake#bruce wayne#batman#robin#dc comics#my art#digital art#okay but seriously I love me some good old whump and hurt/comfort#and if you do too then check out the fic!! 🔫
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Act I ~ The Prince
A tapestry for Let No One Sleep by @azalawa-scroggs on ao3
#narumitsu#wrightworth#phoenix wright#miles edgeworth#nmbb24#happy nrmt big bang!!! there are two more of these…..#but you’ll have to wait for them#fan art#aa#ace attorney#dick gumshoe#maya fey#manfred von karma#…bro is creeping…#wHEEWWWW ok took me a bazillion years to catch up with my day but HERE ARE MY THOUGHTS ON THIS ONE:#the border is intended to be read in counter clockwise direction#so: top -> left -> bottom -> right#and YES the sun and the moon are intentionally associated with the attorney's and prosecutor's badges respectively#phoenix and miles are our sun and moon throughout this story so be sure to look for that in the fic too!!#this style was very experimental for me but i wanted it to mimic the feeling of a tapestry hence me referring to it that way#i WISH this was fabric that would be sick as fuck#i will eventually share a proper breakdown of the thoughts and intentions behind everything but for now...#im gonna miss Phoenix’s cloak bc im obsessed with the design actually. wish that thing was real too#miles is my cunty little bitchboy in this wearing his thousand pound fur coat and the suitor stompy boots#if you thought that was a rug and went Oh. ...that was on purpose :^)))))#rendevok#id in alt text
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Hotel Showers
SMUT. MINORS DNI.
This fic was a request from @chanchansgirly (here) and part of my 500 followers celebration! The request was prompt #1, only one bed, with Chan, NSFW!
I hope you all like it!
Summary: Y/n and Chan get stuck in a very cold hotel room together... and there's only one bed.
Pairing: Bang Chan x Flustered!reader
Includes: only one bed trope, handcuffs, fingering, cumming inside (PLEASEEEEE USE A CONDOM IRL)
Word count: 1.9k
Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,
@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz, @jeonginsleftcheek
Network:@mirohs-aurora-society
Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!
Masterlist
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“Seriously?” You blinked at the desk attendant.
He smiled back at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid the blizzard’s got us more crowded than expected. The only room we have left does just have the one bed.”
You sighed. “Just give me the key.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
You walked back over to Chan, key card in hand. “Sorry, it looks like they’ve only got one room left, and it only has one bed.”
Chan smiled. “Oh, no worries. It’s just one night.”
“I can sleep on the floor if you want. Or in the chair. Those hotel chairs are surprisingly comfy sometimes. I mean, sometimes they’re just not, but, like, this one will probably be fine.” You found yourself rambling.
Chan laughed. “Y/n, if you’re okay with sharing the bed, that works for me.”
“Oh—okay.” You could feel your cheeks reddening.
He turned towards the elevator. “Lets’ go.”
You went upstairs to your room, and you pulled a book out of your bag to read while Chan was in the shower. You tried to stop yourself from thinking about that shower, about the water running through his hair, down his shoulders, over his abs, and lower…
You closed your book with a sigh, opting to doomscroll instagram instead.
The water turned off, and a few minutes later Chan opened the door. Thankfully for your sanity, he was wearing a shirt. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
You smiled. “Okay, I’ll just be a few minutes.”
You went into the bathroom. It felt strangely intimate, erotic, almost, to be in a bathroom filled with the steam from Chan’s shower.
You started your shower before you realized you’d left your body wash in your suitcase. You resigned yourself to hotel soap before seeing Chan’s little blue bottle on the shelf. He must’ve left it there.
He probably wouldn’t care if you used it, right?
You carefully squeezed some into your palm. It smelled good, masculine and clean.
You got out of the shower, dried off, and put on a T-shirt and sleep shorts. You regretted your decision as soon as you stepped out of the now even steamier bathroom. “My God, it’s cold.”
Chan laughed from where he was sitting under the covers. “I was just messing with the thermostat, doesn’t look like it’s getting any warmer in here.”
You gave a short exhale. “Of course.”
Chan patted the sheets beside him. “Here, it’s warmer in bed.”
You got in bed with him, burrowing under the blankets. “I guess a little bit.”
“Can I help?”
“Can… can you help?” You were confused.
“Can I touch you?” Chan’s smile was soft. “Just to help warm you up.”
“Oh… um, yeah, please.”
Chan reached towards you, pulling you into his arms and cuddling you close to his chest.
You were sure he was able to feel your heartbeat, because you could feel it all over your body, especially between your legs.
“Are you comfortable?” Chan whispered.
“Yeah, I’m really comfortable.” You pushed your head into his chest. “You’re warm, Channie.”
“Channie?” He laughed.
“I— sorry, I just, like, a nickname, you know, like, how, like, friends call each other nicknames. You know, like friends do?” You rambled.
“Y/n, calm down. You’re allowed to call me Channie. I would even go so far as to say I like it.”
“Oh.” You could feel your cheeks going hot.
He paused for a moment. “Wait.” He helped roll you over, so your back was flush against his chest. You could feel yourself growing wet at the manhandling.
He pushed his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. You took a shuddering breath of your own at how his lips brushed your skin.
“Did you use my body wash?”
“Um… I forgot mine, I didn’t think you’d… mind.”
“I don’t… mind, exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I think it’s hot more than I think it’s a problem. Which is, in and of itself, a problem.”
“Why?” You breathed.
“Because we’re sharing a bed… catch my drift?”
“I think you need to spell it out for me.” You shifted, angling your hips against his crotch. You could feel a bulge forming already.
He hissed. “Y/n, don’t tease.”
“I’m not teasing.” You whispered. “I mean it.”
You squeaked as Chan flipped you around again, and you were met with his piercing gaze. “You mean it?”
“Yeah.”
His hand drifted up the inside of your thigh. “How do you want it?”
You were a little taken off guard. “Want it? I— uh, inside me, I think.”
He laughed, then brought his lips up to your ear to whisper to you. “I mean, do you want it rough? Want to worship me? Want me to put you on a leash and choke you like a dog? Do you want me so bad you’d do anything for me?” He nibbled on your earlobe, and you shifted with a whine. “You know, if you’re into that.”
“Yes, Chan.”
“To which one?”
“All of it.”
He smiled, and you were caught off guard by his wide, ray-of-sunshine grin. “We’re gonna have fun. I’ll be right back.” He got off the bed, and you shivered at the sudden loss of his heat.
He shuffled through his luggage before pulling out a pair of leather handcuffs. You didn’t even want to question where he’d gotten them or why they were in his suitcase. “You want these?”
Your eyes widened. “Ye-yes, Chan, I do want those.”
“Good girl.” He murmured, climbing back onto the bed. “I’m gonna tie your hands to the headboard, okay?”
“Yes, Channie.” You held out your hands. He guided you to lay back, and he fastened the cuffs around your wrists and then clipped them around the headboard. You tugged a bit at them, and you moaned when they didn’t give.
He just sat in front of you for a moment, watching you watch him.
“Beautiful.” He eventually mumbled. “Lift up those hips for me, and we’ll get your shorts off.”
You nodded, lifting your hips so Chan could slide your shorts and underwear off. You were soaked, and Chan dragged a finger through it before licking it clean. “Damn, all this over me just touching you a bit?”
“I— I mean, before, the shower, I was just thinking about— um, about nothing.” You stopped before you could make a complete fool of yourself by admitting to picturing him naked in the shower.
It was too late for that, though. Chan raised an eyebrow. “Were you thinking about me in the shower?”
You swallowed. “Uh… maybe.”
He shook his head, smiling. “You want me more than you’ve been letting on, don’t you?”
“Uh… maybe.” You said again.
His eyes raked over you. Once, then again. “Can I finger you, sweetheart?”
You felt a wave of heat rush through you, and you were hyperaware of your heartbeat again, pulsing through you. “Yes, please.”
He circled one finger around your entrance for a moment before beginning to press inside. You whined.
He paused. “Something wrong, baby?”
“No!” You squeaked. “Nothing’s wrong! Keep going, Channie, please.” You breathed the last word, and you were unsure for a moment if he’d even heard you until he hummed.
“Please sounds so good coming from your mouth, baby.” He all but purred, pushing his finger in all the way. Your eyes rolled back, and a broken moan fell from your lips. “Say it again.”
“Please.” You whispered. “Another finger, Chan, please.”
“You’re asking so nicely.” He added another finger, as requested, and you arched your back off the bed.
“Fuck.”
“Can you take another?”
“Yes.”
He added in a third finger. You felt so deliciously full of him, and you absently wondered if his cock would fill you up as good.
He pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. His tongue lewdly lapped at his long fingers, making wet noises.
You moaned. “Please, Chan.”
He paused to raise his eyebrows at you. “What are you begging for, hm?”
“You.” You said honestly. “Want you, um, deep— deep inside me.”
“Shy all of a sudden?” He dropped his hand to your pussy, rubbing at your clit. “I’m gonna be deep inside of you in just a second, sweetheart.”
You pushed your hips into his hand, and he laughed. “Greedy little thing.” He pulled away to take off his shirt and pants, leaving him completely naked on the bed in front of you.
“Fuck.” You whispered. You’d known he was muscular, but he was absolutely gorgeous like this, sculpted like he’d been made by Michelangelo.
And his cock… he was big, and he was hard, and you wanted him so badly you were practically salivating.
“Can I fuck you now?” He whispered, his hands hovering over your hips, waiting for your consent.
“Yes, Chan, please, yes.”
You watched as he lined himself up with your dripping hole. “Ready?”
You nodded. “Mhm.”
You put your attention to his face as he pushed inside, at the way his expression went slack as he went deeper and deeper inside of you. You tried to reach up to touch him, but the cuffs rattled loudly. Something burned inside you. The restraints were turning you on.
His eyes snapped open. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just… it’s hot, not being able to touch you, while you touch me all you want.” You said shakily.
He smirked. “Good, that’s the goal.”
“Can you fuck me now?”
He pushed your hair back from your desperate expression, gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Yes, sweetheart.”
He started to rock back and forth, and it took a bit of adjustment before you found a position that was comfortable, but when you settled into it, it was heavenly. Chan’s cock hit spots inside you you didn’t even know existed, and you were soon seeing stars. You gently moaned with each of his thrusts, the sounds of his skin on yours and your moans and his strangled noises filling the room. Chan was so good at this, so good at figuring out exactly what your body needed.
Chan changed angles one more time, and you were suddenly crying out with every motion inside you. “Fuck, Channie, that’s so good, don’t stop!”
“I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart.” He grunted, his hands beginning to feel up your chest. “I’m not gonna stop. You feel so good around me, so warm, so nice and tight, fuck.”
You whined, glad you were being good for him.
Eventually Chan’s movements grew animalistic; his thrusts shorter, tighter. “I’m gonna cum, sweetheart.”
“Inside!” You moaned. “Cum inside, Chan, please, please, Chan, please— oh!”
You could feel him cum inside you just as your own orgasm hit, and you twitched through it while Chan collapsed on top of you.
Both of you were drained. Chan unclipped the handcuffs and took them off, and you cuddled under the blanket. “So cold.”
“It is.” Chan wrapped himself around you. “What do you say we take another shower, together, to warm up and clean off?”
You nodded, snuggling into his chest. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”
“That means we actually have to get out of bed, you know.”
You gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine.”
#mirohsaurorasociety#skzdust writes#skzdust 500 followers event#stray kids#stray kids fic#stray kids smut#skz#skz fic#skz smut#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#bang chan#bang chan x reader#bang chan smut#skz bang chan
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⋆˚࿔ drabble!! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - b.c.
I have thoughts and need to get them out of my head before I go insane.
genre: PURE SMUT TBH!!! MINORS BE GONE!! I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!
pairing: bangchan x fem!reader
warnings: chokeholds (sue me okay), a bit of degradation, rough channie 🥴, reader is called a whore once, size kink if you squint
a/n: I wrote this on my phone because I needed it out of my head NYEOW, I'm going insane over him. dividers by @sister-lucifer
(this is what I was writing to if you wanna listen along 😛😛😛)
✩ thinking so much about Chan having such a horrible day, and I mean absolutely retched. Maybe had some arguments back and forth with staff over a track he was really proud of, a dance practice with small fuckups just out of his control (loose shoelaces tripping him, stumbling over his words, etc), maybe even something as simple as all his anxieties and worries on new tracks and performances have manifested into a boiling anger he can't contain.
✩ he wouldn't want to say anything he doesn't mean, or hurt anyone's feelings, so he wouldn't talk much throughout the day if he can help it. Simple nods and "mhm"s to just get through it. A few texts from you ping his phone every now and then, he's short with you but responds nonetheless. It would almost make him angrier that he can't shake the feeling, I feel.
✩ so he'd try to blow off some steam at the gym, he always hit it on the way home so you wouldn't find it out of the ordinary. But he'd stay a little longer than usual. Trying so, so hard to just shake the feeling off so he can come home to you and relax. But he can't. It sits on his chest worse than any of his anxieties ever could. So he cleans up the area he was using, throws his things into his duffle, and heads home.
✩ he'd show up back to your shared apartment and throw his duffle somewhere out of his sight. His shoes discarded by the door and keys dropped somewhere next to them. And then you'd walk out.
✩ "Hi baby!" So sweet and so kind, already in your pajamas, waiting for him to come home. "Long day?" It was an innocent ask of course, but it clicked a gear in place in his mind. All that anger seemed to quicken the blood rushing through his veins, if you listen close enough in the quiet you'd hear his heartbeat.
✩ no response but he's just stomping his way over to you, and his hands grab your face to smash your lips together. It's messy, teeth knocking every now and then, moving from upper to bottom lip, a bit of spit would connect you when he finally pulled away. Leaving you in a bit of a daze. But before you could question the absolutely hungry look in his eyes his lips would be on you again.
✩ his HUMONGOUS arms would work to pick you up while keeping your lips connected, your hands in his curls as his wrap under your thighs. And he's walking you back to your shared room and his skin is just fiery hot, and he's deepening the kiss while expertly navigating his way down the hall. thank god you walked out and left the door open, because as soon as he is even near your bed he's tossing you onto it and climbing on top of you.
✩ discarding his tank top as you're ridding of your own, his lips moving after to connect with your neck. You'd swear you felt him bite and lick his away along like a hungry animal playing with its prey. And his hands are on your hips, squeezing so hard to keep you in place that it would def leave bruises in the morning.
✩ before you can even register it, you're both without clothes and he's got you on all fours. pulling you down onto his mouth that is just devouring you like your his last meal on death row, like you held a cure for whatever is making him act this way, not like you'd want him to stop.
✩ "Bad day?" You'd question with rutting hips and your hands gripping his hair, he'd simply mumble against you and pull you down further. "Take it out- oh god- on me." You didn't have to tell him really, but it was more like giving him a green light for doing whatever he needed too to blow off the steam that was so pent up. It was rare this happened, but you ate it UP every time.
✩ moments later, after he'd rip at least two orgasms out of you, he's sinking himself into you. Pulling at your hips to meet his, forcing an arch out of you with a flat palm pressing down at the top of your spine. with no mercy does he rut into you, so rough it was physically moving you forward. Your cries and moans muffled with your cheek against the sheets, though you'd have probably been muffled regardless as his moans and groans and growls would be just a bit louder. Feral even.
✩ and when your moans alone weren't enough, he'd slow himself just enough to lean down and wrap his arm around your neck. keeping a hand still on your hip to keep your arch in place when he lifts you up from the bed in a chokehold and returns to his previous pace. Your moans now cut-off whines and groans from the pressure, just enough to slightly bring pressure to your airways but not enough to make you lose all your air. A delightful euphoria of floating and the feeling of his cock pumping into you, you swore in this position he was kissing your cervix in the most delicious way. feeling floaty and so full. so full. (pushing the bde Chris agenda ok).
✩ "fuckin' take it." He'd growl in your ear, and though his arm stays around your neck his hand moves to hold your chin. Relieving the pressure as you take in shaky gasps, keeping you perfectly in place. "Yea? You're my fucking whore, mine- letting me use you, huh? letting me fuck my anger into you?"
✩ he'd be so far gone that he's just mumbling out the nastiest shit he's ever said, and just abusing your pretty little cunt all he wants. And when his growls turn to whines and gasps and groans of his own, his hand reaches between your legs and quickly circles your puffy pretty clit. Silently begging you to cum with him.
✩ ugh and he'd cum so much too. letting you out of his hold halfway through, to lay back against the sheets, but still pushing you through your own orgasm. It would take him a bit to register he's real again before he's pulling out and walking to grab things to clean you up, water, a snack, the works.
✩ "Better?" You'd incoherently mumble after, when you're all laid up together. Snuggled close and naked and safe and warm.
✩ "Mm. Sorry if I was too rough." He'd mumble back, pushing some hair behind your ear before promising to tell you what was bothering him first thing in the morning. But of course you never mind him that way, if you can help him.
✩ he'd apologize PROFUSELY in the morning when he notices your bruised hips and a few red marks of teeth on your neck. Doing his best to mend you. Draw you a bath. Snuggle you as soon as he gets home from the studio. Apologize again. And again. And one more time for good measure. cuz he's just too sweet, and even if he was pent up and needed to channel his anger in a (proactive) different way he could never actually hurt you and he'd feel awful if he ever did. Making sure you feel loved in every way he can in the following days. Cuz he's Channie and an absolute angel, who just loves a rough night every now and again. 😜
EEP KQJDJSNF there's my first spicy drabble, I just needed this out of my fucking head OMG. Need him to chokehold me so BAD KADJNDNF. this is probably a mess because I was trying to get a vision across without turning this into a 7k word fic okay 😭😭. Lemme know if y'all want more of this from meeee by commenting, liking, reposting!! Theenk yewwww ❤️✨🤞🏻
taglist: @possum-playground (taglist is open! Feel free to ask to be added to my general one or the one for my Bangchan series!! or if you'd like to only be added for non-spicy/spicy-only posts!)
#Spotify#eevenus 💌🧸✨#vix's rambles <3#stray kids#bang chan#skz#christopher bang#bangchan#bangchan stray kids#bangchan smut#stray kids smut#bangchan x reader#bang chan smut#chan smut#skz smut#smut#kpop smut#my fics
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𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣
words count: 7k
Relationships: bsf!bangchan x fem!reader x bsf!hyunjin
Synopsis: after years of friendship, you're shocked to learn your best friends aren’t gay, and are in-fact attracted to you.
Warnings: smut with plot, mutual pining, threesome (mfm), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), heavy sexual tension, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, light manhandling, praise kink, mild jealousy, mentions of insecurity, alcohol consumption, and swearing.
(Minors, please do not interact!)
A/N: again did not proofread, also i'm having so many issues writing smut any advice can help.
Chan was the first person I spoke to on my first day at university. I still remember the way he approached me—this energetic, smiling guy who exuded confidence, a kind of confidence I couldn’t even imagine having.
At first, I thought maybe he was just being polite, trying to make the nervous girl feel more at ease. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that wasn’t the case. Chan wasn’t just friendly—he had this way about him that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. It wasn’t something he tried to do; it just came naturally. We clicked immediately, and by the end of our conversation, I found myself laughing at his jokes, sharing stories, and feeling a sense of comfort I hadn’t expected.
After that, I didn’t really have to make any more friends. Chan took care of it. He introduced me to his friends, and just like that, I found myself a part of a whole new group. Felix, with his sweet nature and infectious laugh, Jisung, who always seemed to know how to make me laugh no matter how exhausted I was, and then there was chan’s roommate Hyunjin.
Hyunjin was different. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated at first. He was... well, he was hot—too hot, actually. Tall, effortlessly cool, with an air of quiet intensity that seemed to draw people in. Honestly, I thought he was out of my league. Every time I tried to talk to him, I’d stumble over my words, my face flushing under his steady gaze. I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious whenever he was around, like his confidence only highlighted how awkward I felt.
But all that changed when I started spending more time with them. Chan, being my main friend, and Hyunjin, being his roommate, meant I was bound to be around him a lot.
To my surprise, I started to see a different side of Hyunjin. The intimidating vibe? It wasn’t really who he was. He had a sense of humor—quirky, odd even, but adorable. Once he felt comfortable around me, he let his guard down, and I found myself enjoying his company more and more. He wasn’t the aloof, untouchable guy I’d once thought he was. He was just Hyunjin—relatable, funny, and incredibly easy to talk to.
All throughout university their dorm room became my unofficial home. i’d spend hours there—study sessions that turned into late-night talks, long gaming marathons, and movie nights that always ended with one of us falling asleep in some awkward position on the couch.
We became this inseparable trio. We went through heartbreaks together, laughed over drunk nights, celebrated wins, and comforted each other through the lows
Slowly but surely, my feelings for Hyunjin evolved. He wasn’t some crush anymore—he was my best friend. Over time, I stopped thinking about him in that way entirely.
I knew both Hyunjin and Chan were hooking up with people now and then, but we had this unspoken rule in our friendship: unless it was serious, we didn’t talk about it. That part of our lives stayed private, and I was okay with that. It wasn’t something we needed to discuss, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.
Eventually, though, I settled on an assumption that made everything easier. The way Hyunjin and Chan were with each other, so effortlessly close and affectionate—it just made sense. They had to be gay, right? That explained the mystery, the privacy, everything. And honestly, it was fine with me. I wasn’t interested in either of them like that, and they didn’t seem interested in me. Our bond worked perfectly the way it was.
Or so I thought.
Now fresh out of uni, we found ourselves navigating adulthood together. Jobs, bills, responsibilities—it was a new world, but at least we had each other. Moving in together felt like a natural extension of our bond. Splitting rent made financial sense, but beyond that, we weren’t ready to let go of the dynamic we’d built.
The house wasn’t huge, but it had just enough space for the three of us to feel at home. It was chaotic at times, sure—Hyunjin’s half-finished art projects scattered across the living room, Chan’s endless work-from-home setup that seemed to expand every week, and my collection of books and mismatched mugs taking over the kitchen. But it worked. It always did with us.
living together now was... different. They weren’t just my friends anymore; they were men. And men like Chan and Hyunjin? They were impossible to ignore.
Physically, the changes were obvious. Chan’s broad shoulders and steady presence commanded a room effortlessly, while Hyunjin’s sharp jawline and lean, athletic build seemed designed to draw attention. They moved with purpose now, their every gesture confident and deliberate. But it wasn’t just how they looked—it was how they treated me.
In university, we were a chaotic trio, all equals in the chaos of growing up. But now? Now, they treated me like I was something precious.
Chan, always the dependable one, had become a protector in ways that felt heavier, more deliberate. He’d steady me with a hand on my lower back when we crossed busy streets, or hold open doors without a second thought. When we walked home late at night, he’d position himself closest to the curb, glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure I was okay.
Hyunjin, for all his teasing, had a subtle gentleness that made my breath hitch. He’d help me carry groceries without being asked, his hand brushing against mine as he took the heavier bags. When I complained about how sore my shoulders were after work, he didn’t hesitate—just walked up behind me, warm hands massaging out the tension.
their touches were what really undid me.
It wasn’t like before, when their hands would land on my shoulder or ruffle my hair in passing. Now, every touch lingered. Chan’s hand on my waist as he guided me through a crowded room felt possessive in a way that sent shivers down my spine. Hyunjin’s fingers brushing a stray hair out of my face felt more intimate than it should have been.
And it wasn’t just the touches—it was how easily they did it, how natural it seemed for them to manhandle me in small ways. Chan would reach over me without warning, his chest brushing my back as he grabbed something off the top shelf. Hyunjin would wrap an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer on the couch as he teased me about some show we were watching.
It was maddening. I’d tell myself it didn’t mean anything, that we were just friends. But the truth was; having two ridiculously attractive men treating me like this? Protecting me, touching me, looking at me the way they did? It was impossible to ignore the heat that simmered beneath the surface.
And the worst part? They didn’t even seem to notice what they were doing to me. To them, it was all so casual, so natural. But to me, it was intoxicating. Every brush of their hands, every low chuckle, every whispered “you okay?” left me more confused and yearning than ever.
Tonight, I’d slipped into a cream-colored sweater, paired with a black mini skirt that showed off a teasing amount of leg. It wasn’t like I’d dressed up for any particular reason; Felix and Jisung were coming over for dinner, and I wanted to look nice. Simple as that.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
The kitchen was filled with the rich scent of garlic, onions, and herbs. hyunjin stirring something on the stove. His broad shoulders filled out the fitted black shirt he was wearing, and the veins in his forearms flexed as he moved the spoon in lazy circles. When I entered, the sound of my footsteps seemed to grab his attention. His eyes flicked up, scanning me from head to toe before settling on my face. It was quick, but it wasn’t subtle. There was no hiding the way his gaze dropped, the look lingering just a moment too long on my legs before lifting back up. His lips curled into a smirk, just a little, and I felt my heart race.
“You look nice,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too casual.
I could feel the heat creeping up my neck as I shrugged. “It’s just dinner.”
I crossed the space between us, standing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His broad frame cast a shadow over me, and I instinctively tilted my head back to look up at him. He was taller than I remembered—taller, broader. The way his body seemed to fill the space made it hard to breathe for a moment.
“Thought I’d see if you needed help,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice was a little shakier than I wanted. I knew I had no idea how to cook, but standing this close to him made my mind scramble for anything to say.
“Help?” he repeated, his smirk deepening, his voice almost teasing. “You don’t even know where we keep the knives.”
“Not the point,” I shot back, hoping my words sounded more confident than I felt. My hands were already a little clammy, and my stomach twisted in knots.
Before I could say anything else, I felt a warmth at my back, and the unmistakable presence of Chan, who had entered quietly. His hand brushed lightly against the small of my back, his fingers just barely grazing my skin, and I froze.
Chan was wearing his usual jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clung to his chest in ways that made it hard to look away.
“Stealing her already?” Chan’s voice was light, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something I couldn’t quite place. His fingers lingered for a second longer, just enough to make me painfully aware of how close he was. I felt my breath hitch in my throat.
“Wasn’t stealing,” Hyunjin responded, still holding my gaze, his voice casual but there was that underlying heat again, like he knew exactly what was going on. “She just knows I’m the best cook.”
I shifted slightly, crossing my legs without thinking, trying to hide the sudden flutter of heat I felt coursing through me. Chan’s hand didn’t leave my back, his touch light but somehow heavy all at once. I tried to focus on the conversation, on the joke they were making, but it felt almost impossible. The tension in the room was thick, and it felt like both of them were acutely aware of how close we were, of the way my body responded to them.
“Don’t steal her for yourself just yet,” Chan teased, a playful glint in his eyes. “We still need her to taste-test.”
I managed to force out a laugh, but it felt weak compared to the way my body was reacting to their proximity. The casual banter, the touches, the way their eyes lingered—everything felt too intimate. It was as if the friendship we’d built over the years was beginning to blur, and I didn’t know how to pull away from it.
This is not how friends should feel towards each other right?
Dinner was lively, filled with laughter and chatter as always, you were seated between Hyunjin and Felix, with Chan directly across from you, you couldn’t escape the charged atmosphere no matter how hard you tried.
The first real jolt came when you reached across the table for the salt shaker. It had been sitting just out of reach, and without thinking, you leaned forward to grab it. Before you could touch it, two hands moved toward it simultaneously—Chan’s from across the table, and Hyunjin’s from beside you.
Hyunjin’s arm brushed your shoulder as he leaned over, the scent of his cologne filling the space between you. He reached it first, but the motion brought him close—too close. You were painfully aware of the way his body crowded yours, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the table for a moment.
“Got it,” Hyunjin said softly, his voice carrying an almost teasing edge as he passed the shaker to you. His fingers lingered just a second too long against yours, and when you looked up, you were met with his dark, unreadable gaze.
Chan cleared his throat, drawing your attention. You glanced across the table to see him watching the exchange with an expression that was... difficult to place. There was no annoyance there, just something thoughtful, like he was curious.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, quickly adjusting in your seat and trying to shake the warmth creeping up your neck.
As the meal continued, the little moments piled on. Hyunjin’s knee brushing yours under the table, his hand casually resting on the back of your chair when he leaned over to speak to Felix. Chan’s gaze, heavy and unwavering, each time you glanced up from your plate. Even Felix, with his sweet, innocent charm, seemed to sense the tension in the air, his eyes darting between the three of you like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Finally, Felix leaned in closer, nudging your shoulder gently. “Hey,” he said, his voice low. “Do you still have that cream? The one for sore muscles? My neck’s been killing me.”
The request caught you off guard, but you nodded quickly, grateful for an excuse to escape. “Yeah, I think it’s in my room. Come on, I’ll grab it for you.”
You pushed your chair back, standing up and smoothing your skirt. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the way Chan’s gaze followed you, lingering just a beat too long. Hyunjin’s head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to read something in your movements.
The moment you stepped into your room and closed the door, Felix turned to you with an expression you didn’t entirely expect. His usual warm smile was replaced with something sharper, something knowing.
“Alright,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Spill.”
You frowned, genuinely confused. “Spill what?”
Felix arched a brow, his lips quirking into a slight smirk. “Don’t play dumb. What’s going on with you three?”
Your stomach flipped, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “Nothing’s going on. What are you even talking about?”
Felix’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by a look of gentle concern. “You really don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?” you asked, pulling open a drawer to search for the cream.
Felix sighed, stepping closer. “The way they look at you. The way they act around you. It’s like... it’s so obvious. I don’t know how you’re so clueless.”
You froze, your hand hovering over the drawer’s contents. “Felix, they’re… you know. They’re gay.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then Felix let out a low, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, stepping closer. “you’re so far off.”
Your brow furrowed as you turned to face him fully. “What do you mean? They’re gay. I’ve known them for years, Lix. They’ve never once mentioned being into girls. Not once. And the way they are with each other…” You trailed off, your voice losing conviction under Felix’s knowing stare.
“They’re not gay,” Felix said gently, his tone almost pitying. “Bisexual? Yeah, sure. But gay? Not even close.”
The words felt like they didn’t compute, like Felix had just told you the sky was green. “No way,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re messing with me.”
“I’m not,” Felix said, his voice soft but firm. “Look, I’ve known them longer than you have. And trust me, if you paid even a little attention, you’d notice the way they look at you.”
“What are you even talking about?” you asked, your chest tightening. “They don’t look at me any differently than they look at anyone else.”
Felix’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? They’re constantly looking at you like you hung the moon. Hyunjin can’t go two seconds without finding some excuse to touch you, and Chan? The way he watches you when you’re not looking? It’s... intense.”
You felt heat rush to your face, your heart racing as you tried to process what he was saying. “That’s just how they are. They’re affectionate guys. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Felix tilted his head, giving you a look that was both skeptical and amused. “Affectionate, sure. But this? This is different you cant convince me otherwise. I’m not saying they’re in love with you or anything—” he paused, reconsidering. “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were.”
Your breath caught in your throat, and you had to sit down on the edge of your bed. “Felix, this is insane. They’ve never said anything. Never even hinted at anything.”
Felix sighed and crouched down in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees. “They’re careful, okay? They don’t want to scare you off. But as someone who’s been watching this dynamic for years, I’m telling you—you’re not seeing the whole picture.”
You stared at him, your thoughts spinning. The years of friendship, the countless nights spent together, the laughter, the teasing touches, the moments you’d brushed off as nothing more than camaraderie. Could he be right? Had you really been that oblivious?
Felix straightened up, offering you a small, encouraging smile. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But maybe... don’t dismiss it so quickly. Pay attention. You might be surprised.”
After the guys left, I had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours, Felix’s words looping endlessly in my head. They’re not gay. His voice echoed with conviction, and I felt ridiculous for letting it get to me. But I couldn’t stop replaying every touch, every look, every little thing that now felt heavier with meaning.
A soft knock on my door made me jump.
“Hey,” Chan’s voice came through, quiet but warm. “We’re hanging out in the living room. You coming?”
I hesitated before swinging my legs off the bed. “Yeah, give me a sec.”
When I padded into the living room, both of them looked up, Chan holding a beer, Hyunjin sprawled out on the couch, his sweatpants riding low on his hips. He’d swapped his shirt for a tank top, and the sharp lines of his collarbone and shoulders caught my attention for a second too long.
“Finally decided to join us, huh?” Chan teased, patting the spot next to him on the couch.
I sank down between them, their bodies close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off them.
“Sorry, I wasn’t much help earlier,” I murmured, picking at the hem of my sweater.
Hyunjin waved it off, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. But... you okay? You seemed distracted.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, glancing between them. The weight of their gazes felt different tonight—intense and questioning, like they were trying to read me.
Chan leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind me, his fingertips brushing my shoulder as his thumb started absentmindedly tracing small circles against my sweater.
“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Hyunjin added, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hair, still slightly damp from a shower, fell into his eyes as he tilted his head to look at me.
My cheeks burned. “I guess I’m just tired.”
“Tired, huh?” Chan’s voice was teasing, but his hand dropped lower, grazing my upper arm now. “Or did Felix say something?”
I froze, my pulse quickening. “Why would you think that?”
Hyunjin sat back, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “You tell us. He had you alone for a while, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t say anything,” I rushed out, but my voice betrayed me, shaky and uncertain.
Chan’s hand stilled against my arm, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. “Liar,” he said softly, but there was no malice in his tone—only curiosity.
Hyunjin leaned closer, his knee brushing against mine. “If something’s on your mind, you can tell us, you know.” His voice was low, smooth, and impossibly distracting.
I could feel the tension thickening in the room, their presence overwhelming. Chan’s touch lingered, Hyunjin’s closeness making it hard to think straight. They weren’t pushing, not exactly, but the way they looked at me—like they knew I was holding something back—made it impossible to escape the weight of Felix’s words.
They’re not gay. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, one I prayed they couldn’t see.
“I think…” I started, my voice quieter than I intended, “I think you two are… not what I thought you were.”
Hyunjin leaned in a little, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as it bore into me. “What do you mean?” His voice was still low, that calm authority I’d come to recognize from him.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet their eyes. My chest tightened, heart pounding in my ears. “I thought… I thought you guys were just… you know, gay.” The words rushed out before I could stop them, leaving me exposed.
The silence between us stretched, thick and heavy, suffocating. Chan’s gaze flickered to Hyunjin for just a moment, his expression unreadable, before it landed back on me. He spoke, his voice low but steady. “Is that really what you think?” His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, like he was searching for something.
“Yeah,” I blurted out, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I’ve seen the way you two act around each other, and… I figured I, or any girl, must’ve been the last thing on your mind.”
Hyunjin’s eyes softened, the intensity of his usual gaze replaced by something else. He glanced at Chan again, who responded with a slight twitch of his lips—barely noticeable, but enough to make me feel like I’d just said something monumental.
“That’s what Felix told you, huh?” Hyunjin’s voice was calm, like he was probing for more. “What else did he say?”
I felt my voice tremble as I tried to process what was happening. “He said… you weren’t gay. And that… you were both into me”
The room was quiet for a moment, thick with anticipation. Hyunjin’s lips parted, and this time, he did speak. His voice was low, smooth, and tantalizingly close as he leaned in just enough for me to feel his breath ghosting across my skin, I had to let out a sharp exhale.
“Felix was right,” he said, his words slow, almost deliberate. “But I think he missed a few details.”
Chan didn’t move, his hand still resting on my arm. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a brief moment before meeting my eyes again, that made my breath catch.
“You’re not wrong,” he said softly, his voice low and deliberate. “But maybe you’re looking at us the wrong way.”
Before I could respond, Hyunjin’s hand brushed against my thigh, light but deliberate, sending a jolt of heat through me. “You think we don’t notice how you look at us?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, almost a whisper. “How you press your pretty thighs together every time we get close?”
I couldn’t speak. The silence between us was thick with tension, the heat from their bodies so close to mine almost suffocating, but I couldn’t pull away. Not when their eyes were on me like that, not when their words were making everything inside me ache with anticipation.
Chan smiled, but it was different this time. There was no teasing, no joking. It was raw, and real, and it made my heart race even faster. “You thought we didn’t notice, didn’t you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “But we’ve just been waiting for you to say something.”
The silence stretched, heavy and electric. My breath caught in my throat as Chan's gaze dropped to my lips, his fingers still brushing against my cheek. I didn’t move, couldn’t move, pinned by the sheer intensity of his eyes.
“Can I?” Chan asked softly, his voice rougher now.
I nodded, barely able to form a coherent thought.
And then his lips were on mine—warm, soft, and so much gentler than I expected. The kiss sent a jolt through my entire body. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his touch firm but careful, as if testing the boundaries.
Before I could even process the sensation, I felt Hyunjin move. His hand left my thigh, but only so he could tilt my face toward him, his fingers light under my chin. My lips barely parted from Chan’s when Hyunjin leaned in, claiming my mouth with a kiss that was deeper, more urgent, but just as intoxicating.
My heart pounded against my ribcage, every nerve ending on fire. They moved with practiced ease, like this was something they’d thought about—planned, even. Chan’s hand stayed at the nape of my neck while Hyunjin’s fingers traced the curve of my jaw, grounding me in the surreal, overwhelming moment.
When they finally pulled back, I was left breathless, caught between them, my head spinning.
“You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for this,” Chan murmured, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting lightly against mine.
Hyunjin smirked, his thumb grazing the corner of my lips. “And we’re just getting started.”
The tension in the room was heavy, and then suddenly, it snapped. Hyunjin stood abruptly, his dark eyes flashing with something unreadable. Without a word, he walked out, heading toward his room.
Chan lingered for a moment, his gaze flicking back to me as I sat there, frozen and flustered. His lips twitched into the faintest smirk, the kind that made my stomach flip.
“feel free to join,” he said simply, his voice low and smooth, before turning to follow Hyunjin.
My breath hitched, my heart racing as I sat there for what felt like an eternity, debating whether or not to move. The warmth of their touches, their words, lingered on my skin, pulling me out of my daze.
I stood on shaky legs, hesitating for only a second before following them down the dimly lit hallway. The air felt charged with anticipation, every step amplifying the pounding in my chest.
When I reached Hyunjin’s room, the door was ajar, and the sight that greeted me knocked the air out of my lungs. Hyunjin was already sprawled on his bed, shirtless, the soft light casting shadows over the sharp lines of his chest and arms. His gaze was fixed on me, intense and unwavering, his dark hair falling messily across his forehead.
Chan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re not going to stand there all night, are you?” he teased, his voice a mixture of warmth and challenge.
I swallowed hard, stepping inside, my movements hesitant but drawn by a force I couldn’t fight.
Hyunjin shifted, patting the space beside him on the bed, his lips curving into a lazy grin. “Come here,” he said, his voice soft but commanding, and I felt my legs move before I could think.
Chan shut the door behind me, the soft click echoing in the quiet room as he joined us.
As I crossed the room, my steps unsteady, Hyunjin’s gaze never left mine. When I reached the bed, his hand stretched out, fingers brushing lightly against mine before he tugged me closer.
“Sit,” he murmured, his voice deep and low, and I obeyed, settling on the edge of the bed. The warmth of his skin seemed to radiate toward me, and the proximity made my heart pound harder.
Chan moved to stand nearby, his presence commanding as always. His shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin that distracted me for just a moment too long. He noticed, of course, because Chan noticed everything, and the small smirk tugging at his lips told me he wasn’t going to let it slide.
“Hyunjin,” Chan said casually, his tone laced with amusement, “I think you’re making her nervous.”
Hyunjin’s hand trailed deliberately under the hem of my skirt, the warm press of his fingertips against my thigh making my breath hitch. His touch wasn’t rushed; it was languid, teasing.
“Am I?” he murmured, his voice low and muffled as he buried his face into the curve of my neck. The warmth of his breath and the slight scrape of his nose against my skin sent a shiver down my spine. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch despite the overwhelming heat flooding my chest.
“Hyunjin,” Chan said again, though this time there was a warning in his tone, his amusement still evident. He stepped closer, standing beside the bed where I sat perched on the edge, barely holding myself together.
Hyunjin only chuckled against my neck, his lips grazing my skin briefly as his fingers traced small circles against my inner thigh. “What? She doesn’t seem to mind.” His voice was pure velvet, laced with mischief.
my eyes darted to Chan, his steady gaze locking with mine. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at me, something that made my stomach tighten. Without a word, he reached out, tilting my chin so I was forced to hold his gaze.
“Is that true?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing against my jaw. “You don’t mind?”
“I…” My words faltered, a soft moan slipping out before I could stop it. Hyunjin’s lips had found the sensitive spot just below my ear, his teeth grazing the delicate skin in a way that sent a jolt of heat straight through me. The combination of his warm breath and the light nip made my head tilt involuntarily, giving him more access.
“Hmm,” Hyunjin hummed against my neck, the vibration of his voice making my breath hitch.
Chan’s hand on my face tightened slightly, drawing my attention back to him. His dark eyes searched mine, his thumb brushing over my cheek as if to steady me—or maybe to steady himself. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, and I obeyed, despite the chaos Hyunjin was causing on my neck.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I shook my head, though the flutter in my chest betrayed the truth.
Chan stepped closer, towering over me as he leaned down, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “use your words princess,” he said softly, his voice dropping an octave.
Uncomfortable? That was the last thing I felt.
“You’re not,” I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible, and Hyunjin’s fingers squeezed my thigh just slightly in response.
Chan chuckled, the sound low and rich as he took a seat beside me. Now I was between them, their warmth encasing me, their attention so focused that it felt like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“You’re shaking,” Hyunjin observed, his tone softer now, a stark contrast to the heat in his eyes.
“I’m not—” I started, but the slight quiver in my voice betrayed me again.
Chan leaned in closer, his hand joining Hyunjin’s on my other thigh. “really?,” he said gently, his touch steadying me even as it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.
Hyunjin captured my lips in his with a fervor that made my breath hitch, his hand tightening on my waist as he pulled me flush against him. The kiss was hungry, every movement sending sparks through my body as his fingers trailed along my side.
Before I could process it, Chan was there too, his hand sliding up to cup my jaw as his lips found the curve of my neck. He moved slowly, deliberately, his breath hot against my skin as he kissed a path to my collarbone.
Hyunjin’s hands roamed, one gripping my thigh while the other cradled the back of my neck, angling my head so he could deepen the kiss. Chan’s hand brushed over Hyunjin’s on my leg, their touches overlapping, leaving me trembling under their attention.
“Perfect,” Chan murmured against my neck, his voice low and full of approval as he pulled back just enough to look at me. “You’re perfect.”
Hyunjin’s lips left mine, his dark eyes meeting Chan’s for a brief, heated exchange before he leaned in close; his teeth grazed the shell of my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.
Chan’s lips were on mine then, softer but no less intense, his hand slipping beneath my sweater to rest on my breasts, his thumb brushing my nipples. Every touch, every kiss, felt like I was being unraveled piece by piece, leaving me entirely at their mercy.
Hyunjin’s hand slid further up my thigh, his fingers toying with the hem of my underwear as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he teased, his voice low and teasing. “Not like you at all.”
Chan chuckled softly against my lips, his hands steady as he lifted me effortlessly, setting me down in the middle of Hyunjin’s bed. The new position had my skirt riding up higher, and I could feel the intensity of their gazes as they both stood looking at me.
Hyunjin knelt in front of me, his hands spreading over my legs as he pushed them apart slightly, his gaze flicking to Chan before meeting mine. “You’re still holding back,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the inside of my thigh, the gentleness of it making me shiver.
Chan moved behind me, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me back against him. His lips found my neck again, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my skin.
The heat between us was almost unbearable. Hyunjin’s fingers finally pushed aside my underwear and started stroking where I wanted him the most, and I let out a soft gasp as his lips followed.
Chan’s grip on my waist tightened, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Let go. Let us take care of you.”
My hands found their way into Hyunjin’s hair, tugging slightly as his mouth worked magic on me. The sound of his quiet chuckle against my skin sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I felt Chan’s lips curve into a smile against my shoulder; as he pushed hyunjin’s hand off my clit and replaced it with his own.
I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—the way their touches overlapped, how their breaths mingled with mine, left me utterly undone. Hyunjin glanced up, his dark eyes meeting mine, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
“Look at you,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice dripping with heat.
Chan’s free hand slid under my shirt, his fingers picking at my nipples. “She’s sensitive,” Chan murmured, almost to himself, his voice carrying a note of awe that made my heart race even faster.
My head tipped back against Chan’s shoulder, a soft moan escaping my lips as Hyunjin’s tongue and chan’s fingers were making me see heaven.
Chan’s lips pressed against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue, leaving a burning trail of sensation in his wake.
My body arched, every nerve igniting as waves of pleasure coursed through me, sharp and all-consuming. My nails dug into Hyunjin’s scalp, and his name left my lips in a breathless cry. His grip on my hips tightened, grounding me in the overwhelming sensation as his dark eyes bore into mine, filled with pride and hunger.
“That’s it,” chan murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “cum for us princess.”
And I did, my breath came in soft gasps, my body still trembling as the rush of pleasure faded into a warm hum.
Chan’s hand slid up to my cheek, turning my face toward him. His eyes were heavy-lidded but soft, his thumb brushing my jaw as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful like this.” He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, his lips exploring mine as though he had all the time in the world.
Hyunjin pulled back finally, licking his lips like a hungry man. “Don’t think we’re done,” he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. His dark eyes roamed over me, taking in the sight of me flushed and breathless. “this was just the begining.”
“lie down, baby” chan demands, as he moved from behind me.
As I did, the guys started taking off their clothes urgently. And I couldn’t help but stare; they were gorgeous and they knew it.
Chan immediately layed on top of me, trapping me between his arms, his body hovering over me, and I realised just how big he actually was, from the corner of my eye I saw hyunjin get next to me in bed his grin was sharp, his fingers brushing over my calf with deliberate slowness as he settled beside me. “You’re in for it now,” he teased, his voice dripping with heat.
Chan didn’t waste a second. His lips were on mine, his cock pressing down on me, heavy and unyielding, I needed him so bad. His kiss was hungry, claiming, and I couldn’t stop the soft sound that escaped my lips as he deepened it.
Beside me, Hyunjin’s hand roamed my body, his touch electrifying against my skin. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my neck. “You sound so sweet,” he muttered, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear.
Chan pulled back slightly, just enough for me to catch my breath before he entered me without a warning, as I let out a gasp. I felt utterly full of him.
Hyunjin’s mouth followed a slow, teasing path down my neck, his fingers now splayed possessively against my tits. His tongue darted out, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and I couldn’t stop the arch of my back as the tension built between us.
Chan’s thrusts, were precise and passionate. “You drive us insane, you know that?” he growled against my lips before capturing them again.
Hyunjin chuckled low. “oh she knows exactly what she’s doing,” he murmured, his voice like silk, his touch anything but gentle as he made his intentions clear.
They weren’t taking their time anymore—they were claiming me, and I was powerless to resist.
each thrust was sending waves of pleasure through me, making my thoughts scatter. Chan’s breath was hot against my lips as he muttered, “You feel better than I ever imagined.”
Hyunjin’s hands were everywhere, his fingers tracing fire over my skin. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “You like this, don’t you? Both of us making you our own?” His voice was low, teasing, and it only heightened the ache pooling in my core.
I couldn’t respond, my voice caught in my throat as Chan’s pace quickened, his grip on my thighs firm and possessive. Hyunjin smirked at my lack of words, his hand cupping my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “we spent years thinking about fucking you like this, you’re ours now” he murmured before his lips captured mine in a kiss that was just as consuming as Chan’s touch.
The build was maddening, chan’s relentless rhythm pushing was me to the edge. My hands gripped his shoulders tightly, my nails digging into his skin as I felt the tension coil tighter and tighter in my core. “Chan,” I gasped, his name spilling from my lips like a plea, my body trembling beneath him.
“Let go, baby,” he murmured against my ear, his voice rough with need. “I’ve got you.”
The release hit me like a tidal wave, my body arching as pleasure flooded every nerve. My cries filled the room, and Chan followed soon after, a guttural groan escaping him as his own climax overtook him. He pressed his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling, his weight grounding me as I came down from the high.
Before I could fully catch my breath, I felt Hyunjin’s hand slide up my leg, his touch firm yet tantalizing. “Don’t think I’m letting you off that easily,” he said with a smirk, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. He was on me in an instant, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss that reignited the fire in my veins.
“Turn over,” he commanded softly, his voice holding an edge of authority that made me shiver. Chan shifted, moving to the side to make space as Hyunjin positioned himself behind me, his hands gripping my hips. The anticipation was electric, and when he finally pushed into me, it was slow and deliberate, drawing out a moan that left no question about how much I wanted this.
“You’re stunning like this,” Hyunjin rasped, his movements starting to quicken, each one sending fresh sparks through my body. “I’ve been dying to have you like this.”
Chan, still close, leaned down to kiss me, his hand brushing the hair from my face as Hyunjin took control. I’m drooling at this point, and my legs were shaking due to the overstimulation.
the room was filled with my moans and hyunjin’s grunts, who was trying his best to last as long as possible.
“You’re so tight, baby” he groaned, the pressure on his cock making him go completely insane.
Eventually, he gave up, letting himself cum at the same time as me.
"Fuck," he breathed out, pulling out of me. He layed between me and chan.
"You did well, love," hyunjin whispered, making me smile despite how tired I was.
#bang chan imagines#bangchan smut#kpop smut#skz fanfic#skz imagines#skz smut#stray kids fanfic#stray kids hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#hyunjin smut#hyunjin scenarios#kpop fic#bang chan hard hours#stray kids drabbles
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Skz meeting a pretty fan
Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)
Genre: fluff, just a tiny little bit of angst, headcanons
Description: their reaction to meeting a pretty fan during a fan meeting
Warnings: kind of love at first sight trope, delusional, some of them are dramatic, they are all idols, not proofread
A/n: the way it's been over a year that this has been in my drafts | daily click
Bang Chan
He was kinda of tired already so he was zoning out
When he sees you he is like "...oh"
He is so invested in your conversation
If you comment about the production behind the music he will be so happy
Genuinely loves when someone acknowledges his work so his eyes will shine and he will smile so hard while explaining everything to you
He is upset when you need to move on to the next member
Sees you laughing with the other members and he's like 🤨
Wonders what they did that managed to make you laugh that much
Lee Know
He would stare at you
You know when his mouth is open and you can see his eyes shining?
Yeah, that's him right now
You say hello and he would give you his nervous laugh before looking at you again with those stary eyes
I swear he is such a softie
Would listen to every single word that you say, you can tell he is paying so much attention
Autographs something for you and makes a funny drawing as well hoping you'd laugh
Side eyes the staff when they say the time is up
Even when you move to the next member and other fan is talking to him, he would still look at your direction sometimes and get so flustered if you catch him looking at you
Changbin
Starts small talk right away
Will 100% compliment you
You ask him an autograph and he wonders how bad would it be if he gave you his number instead
Like he knows he cannot do that
But maybe if he was sneaky enough...
Doesn't do it by the end but he low-key regrets it for the rest of his life
He will wake up one day after five years and be like "damn I should've given them my number"
And he will make that everyone's problem
The boys can't stand it anymore because they've heard enough about you by now 😭
Convinces himself that he will see you again one day
Hyunjin
He sees you before you see him, so he is panicking
Is looking at the line all the time wondering if you will want to talk to him
Asks han if his hair looks good before it's your turn to talk to him
No but fr, he can't take his eyes off you
When you start talking he is like 😯
You look and sound like an angel, he must be in heaven
Even after the fan meeting he can't stop thinking about you
If he's feeling bold enough, he will definitely flirt with you
Low-key forgot he was an idol and was ready to risk it all for you
Han
Might believe in love at first sight after your meeting
Compliment him once and he will get so shy
Like sir, weren't you the one flirting like two seconds ago🤨
Would feel so betrayed if he isn't your bias LMAO
He has like a minute and a half to convince you he's the best stray kids member and he WILL try that
And he hopes that someone will record his flirty antics and post it on tiktok just so he can find your socials
He will make all the boys stalk the internet to try to find you
"but you can't contact them even if you find their account, so what's the point?" idk bro but he wants to see you again somehow
Felix
SUCH A FLIRT
The moment he looks at you he is already trying to win your heart
Kinda forgot he was an idol pt.2
Except he didn't forget
He just doesn't care
He wants to flirt with you and that's precisely what he will do
Will even flirt through his autograph if he can
Uses any kind of excuse to make physical contact with you ✨
And side eyes the staff when they tell him it's time to move on
Like no it's not??
Seungmin
Actually pretty good at hiding his new crush??
The most normal one out here surprisingly lol
He will be able to cover it up as just "good mood" but let's be for real
It's because of you
Anyways
Will smile so much
If you compliment his smile (please do!) he will get shy but so so happy
Also steals glances when you go to the next member
He'll be talking to the next fan but ends up laughing because of something he heard you say to another one of the boys
The fan is like ?? but Seungmin is able to play it off
I.N
So dedicated to give you a good impression
If you tell him your favourite skz song is one of his solos (or that your favourite has that title because of his vocals) this man is in heaven
Forgot he was an idol pt.3 except he didn't forget
He just lowkey very lowkey didn't want to be an idol in that exact moment
Had it been on any normal occasion he would probably try to charm you over
But this was his job
He couldn't possibly get delulu over a fan 😭 although he was already midway to that
Ends up covering a song you said you thought would fit his voice
Sees the comments of the cover wondering each one of those were yours
Masterlist | you'll probably like: unrequited love
Reminder that this is all fiction, this does not represent the members in real life!
Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto | Images 1, 2 and 3
#celi headcanons#stray kids fluff#stray kids reactions#stray kids imagines#skz fluff#skz headcanons#skz imagines#skz reactions#skz x reader#skz x you#skz x y/n#skz scenarios#skz fic#bang chan#bang chan fluff#lee know#lee know fluff#changbin#changbin fluff#hyunjin#hyunjin fluff#han#han fluff#felix#felix fluff#seungmin#seungmin fluff#i.n#i.n fluff
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★ smut , chan x reader , degradation , overstimulation
★ w/c: 523
Chan was very cocky about pulling countless orgasms out of you. Too cocky. He would boast about how every time you came, be it using his mouth, fingers, or his colossal cock, his ego would get inflated.
And you couldn’t handle hearing that anymore since it hurt your ego. And so you decided to teach him a lesson. One that would crumble his high and mighty ego by faking your orgasm. It was the most perfect plan to make him finally shut up.
Or so you would think.
Chan looked at you confused. His thrusts halting and his grip on your waist tightening.
You let out the fakest moan not even a few minutes in, and Chan caught onto that easily.
That wasn’t the way you moaned at all. That wasn’t even the way your body reacted when he pulled an orgasm out of you.
“Did you just-?” He asked, slightly offended. You pretend to catch your breath and mirror his confusion.
“Did I what?” You play coy.
Chan huffed and shook his head. “Dont play dumb with me y/n.” He pulled his cock out, earning a small whine from you. He leaned over your body, one of his hand next to your head, making sure he doesn’t fall on you.
“Im not ch-“ Before you could reply, you felt 2 thick fingers plunge into your hole, making you groan loudly.
His fingers started fucking in and out of you fast. Rough thumb drew circles on your poor clit. “Wanna fake your orgasm? I'm going to pull a hundred out of you.” He growled against your ear.
He moaned and gripped his wrist. “C-chan.. ffffuckkk…” His fingers penetrated your gushy walls. Your pussy was getting so wet, to the point it was audible.
“If you wanna fake it, make it believable.” His fingers curled into your g-spot. Your stomach caved in, and it felt like air got sucked out of your body.
“Dumb whore.” At his vile words, you couldn’t help but find your first release. Your pussy spasmed and clenched around his fingers as milky white liquid gushed out of your hole.
Chan smirked against your shoulder. “Just like that. You’re such a dumb slut. You really think you can fool me?” He presses his thumb against your clit, making you moan out pornographically.
You stared into his eyes with your glassy ones as he pulled another orgasm out of you. His fingers continuing their relentless assault on your sensitive pussy.
You shook your head and whimpered. You were already tired from the two orgasms, but Chan wasn’t going to stop. If he wanted to pull a hundred orgasms out of you? He would.
“What? too much? Too much for your little stupid brain to handle? Too much for your fucking pussy? Thought you didn’t like me fucking you? Isn't that why you faked it?” He asks tauntingly.
You shake your head vigorously and mumble out soft ‘no’s’ and ‘please’. Your eyes brimming with tears and your thighs quivering.
“I'm not gonna stop until I say. So I want you to be a good little girl and keep cumming for me. Understood?”
A/N: js a little Drabble to start off the last month :3 hope you like it! Send in your rqs! (Rlly need ideas huhu)
#stray kids smut#౨ৎ ⋆。˚ yun’s silly fics#straykids smut#stray kids#straykids bang chan#stray kids bang chan#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#skz smut#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz x reader#bang chan x you#bang chan x reader#bang chan smut#divider by @/cafekitsune
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ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ˚
texts with boyfriend bangchan !!
a/n: im srs about that nose shit…🐒
fake text m.list ☁︎⋅
#viasdreams#skz#skz texts#skz fake texts#skz fluff#skz scenarios#skz x reader#skz fanfic#skz bang chan#skz smau#stray kids#stray kids fake texts#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids texts#stray kids bang chan#stray kids smau#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#bangchan#bangchan x y/n#bangchan x you#bangchan x reader#bang chan#bangchan stray kids#bangchan fanfic#bangchan fluff#bangchan fic#bangchan skz
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fruit cup - a thought
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
“you’re staring down my food, baby.” he chuckles, breaking you out of the daze you were in.
“sorry, those grapes look so delicious though.” you say, practically licking your lips looking a the small fruit cup he had placed next to his dish.
“you want it?” he asks, not even paying it a second thought as he lifts it up and hands it to you.
“o-oh uh.” you stutter, caught off guard. “are you sure? it’s yours, I should have grabbed one.” but he doesn’t let you refuse, placing it in your hand anyway.
“no problem, I can get another one.” he smiles, looking at you fondly as you slip the lid open and pop a sweet grape in your mouth.
“thank you baby.” you giggle, but he doesn’t understand why you thank him for things like this. isn’t that what anyone would do for someone they love?
“no problem, baby.” he chuckles, digging back into his food with no idea that what he did made your whole day.
#stray kids#skz x reader#skz#straykids x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#kpop#bang chan x reader#bang chan fic
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📱skz texts — random texts with bang chan
type. fluff, random texts series
warnings. gn!reader
a/n. i needed some loving from my favorite boy so here we gooooo also i took way too long making his part >:( but here we are and these made me giggly and happy gehe hope you guys will enjoy them too mwah xxx
01. you’re watching channie’s room
02. you want to go swimming
03. he texts you before going on stage
04. he texts you while you’re sleeping
#ilya texts fics#stray kids#stray kids x reader#bang chan#lee know#changbin#hyunjin#han skz#felix skz#seungmin skz#i.n skz#stray kids fluff#skz smau#bang chan x reader
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a genetic disposition (to loving you) :: [BC x Reader]
read on AO3
summary: seeing chan at the genetic clinic when he told you he was too busy to hang out was one thing. noticing he was now significantly taller than he was a couple weeks ago was another.
learning he's been diagnosed with the werewolf disorder is something different entirely.
pairing: bang chan x reader
tropes: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, modern werewolf au, no transformations tho, chronically ill reader, reader has EDS (ehlers danlos syndrome), some angst, slight miscommunication trope
smut warning: masturbation (m), handjobs, blink-and-you-miss-it subby chan, voyeurism, pussy eating (x2), no actual ABO dynamics but that's not stopping Chan from calling himself Alpha, dirty talk, lots of begging, standing/wall sex, cumming inside AND cumming outside.
content warning: talks about being in pain, self deprecating talk, anxiety spirals, very brief internalized ableism, panic attack
word count: 21.6k
author's note: if you saw the three different attempts to post this, no you didn't. enjoy! <3
Chan was acting weird.
To be fair, he always acts weird. Weird might actually be his default. But this was a different type of weird– a weird that involved canceling plans last minute and making up flimsy excuses about why.
Today, he was supposed to accompany you to your doctor's appointment. A simple, low stakes kind of hangout. You looked at your phone with a sigh.
Channie: sorry, can we do a raincheck for our hangout? not to sound like a fuckboy but something came up
Channie: i really am sorry babygirl. i'll make it up to you i promise. please tell me how it goes okay?
You let out a small huff of air. You would love to be annoyed, mad even, but at the end of the day, this is Chan, your best friend since elementary school. The guy who held you through heartbreaks and stressful semesters. The guy who memorized your ridiculously complicated Dunkin order. The guy who dropped everything to stay with you at the hospital a few months ago when things got really bad.
The guy you're secretly in love with.
Okay, maybe that was a minor and insignificant detail in the grand scheme of things. Either way, you can't be mad at Chan.
You: don't worry channie. i'll be okay. I hope your stuff goes well ok?
Channie: love u, good luck with your appointment, it's gonna be ok
Right. Your appointment.
You'd been having some increasingly bothersome and worrying symptoms for the better part of 2 years now. It started with a noticeable dull ache in your knees that wouldn't go away, reaching a peak now where there's not a single day you wake up pain free. The doctors were just as stumped as you were, and as sort of a last ditch effort, they sent you to a geneticist in the expensive part of the city. Thank goodness for adequate health insurance.
You were a bit nervous, which is why you asked Chan to come with you, but it wasn't that big of a deal. You've been to specialists before.
Still, disappointment rises in your chest as you finish pulling your hair away from your face and securing it with a scrunchie before grabbing your essentials and heading out the door. You're more disappointed about the fact that he's not coming instead of what he's not coming to. You're getting a little weary and tired of the excuses and him bailing on plans.
But then you think about the way his voice sounds when he calls you babygirl, and everything seems right again.
The trip to the geneticist office is long, and by the time you arrive, you feel the exhaustion in every joint. For such a high caliber place, it's decorated just as sterile and modern as you were expecting, with white walls and white furniture. When you go to check in, the receptionist hands you a tablet with various forms pulled up and points you to the waiting room.
You settle into one of the white waiting room chairs, balancing the iPad on your lap as you begin working through the forms. The questions start simple enough - name, date of birth, insurance information. Then they get more involved, diving into your medical history.
Have you experienced any of the following symptoms in the last six months?
The list that follows is daunting - joint pain (obviously), muscle weakness (sometimes), unexplained fatigue (who doesn't have that?), difficulty concentrating (depends on the day). You find yourself checking more boxes than you'd like.
Your mind drifts to Chan again. You wonder what was so important that he had to cancel. Usually, he at least gives you a concrete excuse, even if it's something silly like having to wash his hair or visit his parents. Today's vague "something came up" feels different. Worrying.
Before you can stop yourself, you pull out your phone.
You: this intake paperwork feels like the ending of a medication commercial
You: i’m surprised they haven't asked me if i or a loved one has been diagnosed with mesothelioma
The message stays on delivered for a while, longer than you expect. You give up on staring at your phone and turn your attention back to the paperwork.
After a ridiculous amount of questions and an even more ridiculous amount of signatures, you finish the preliminary stuff, heading back to the receptionist desk to hand her the iPad. She gives you a polite nod and smile and lets you know the nurse will be out in a second, so you can wait in the small chair by the double doors.
You're lost in thought, mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you hear the gentle sound of your name called. The sound makes you look up, tucking your phone away and grabbing your bag. A nurse stands by the double doors, clipboard in hand, wearing deep purple scrubs and a smile that somehow makes the sterile environment feel a little more human.
You push yourself up from the chair, joints starting their songs of protest after sitting still for so long. The nurse offers pleasantries that you respond to with your usual politeness. As you're walking towards the open door, you hear a beep and the whirr of an electronic lock unlocking. The closed side of the door swings open and–
There's Chan.
You both freeze mid-step, eyes wide and locked on each other like this is the first time you're seeing each other in years. It feels like it, but you did just see him last weekend at a mutual friend's birthday party. It was a fun night, but he was acting strange and dodgy then, too.
something came up.
You squint at him, not sure whether confusion or anger is winning the war in you right now. He opens his mouth once, twice– words are failing. The most he can do is let out a shaky, “Babygirl…”
You take that moment to really look at him. His hair is in its natural curly state, but significantly more messy than usual, wisps falling over and around themselves. His eyes are red and bagged heavily, and his shoulders seem like they're scrunching in on themselves. He hasn't looked like this since that night in the hospital with you.
Something is definitely wrong.
The nurse clears her throat, and you remember you're being waited on. You motion wordlessly towards the nurse and he gives you a shaky nod.
“I'll, um. I'll text you,” he mumbles weakly, holding the door open for you as you walk past. When you do, you can't help but look up at him, like way, way up. More than you usually do. You almost pause again– are your bone problems making you shrink, or is he somehow taller? Why does he look like that?
It's you who nods shakily this time, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away so you don't bump into a wall. It takes concentrated effort not to look back at him while you walk down the hallway, but somehow you manage.
The nurse brings you to an exam room and tells you to sit tight while she gets the vitals cart. You obey, still dazed and confused and maybe even a little hurt if you allow yourself to really feel it. Your phone buzzes less than a minute later, and you don't even have to guess who it is.
Channie: i'm so sorry.
Channie: i can explain. i promise.
Channie: i just.. i need some time before i can
Channie: im such a fucking idiot. i'm so sorry babygirl. please.
There are a million and one responses in your head, each with varying levels of confusion or annoyance. But, among the haze, the image of his exhaustion floats back to you, and you find yourself folding.
As usual.
You: breathe, Chan. it's ok.
You: whatever it is, we'll figure it out, yeah?
You: i do wish you told me but. it's okay. I can wait for an explanation.
Channie: you're so amazing. i don't deserve you.
Channie: i'll call you when you get out ok? i love u
The nurse comes back with the vitals cart and begins prepping materials before you can respond properly, so you send back a heart and slip your phone into your pocket. When the blood pressure cuff tightens around your arm, you wonder if the nurse will notice how fast your heart is beating – though you're not sure if it's from anxiety or the way Chan's voice cracked when he called you babygirl.
Maybe both.
To his credit, Chan truly does make it up to you, in the form of an extended weekend away at his parents’ cabin upstate. The invitation, or request rather, comes a couple days after the geneticist incident while you're in bed feeling anxious over your test results.
Channie: picking u up thursday night, we're going to my parents’ cabin till monday
Channie: had plans?
If anyone else were to text you like that, you'd balk at their audacity. But because it's Chan, there's a growing heat in your face when you simply reply:
You: no plans. promise you won't bail?
He sends you a picture of his already packed duffel bag and backpack sitting by his door, then another picture of him and his laptop that's clearly pulled up to Google Maps. His eyebrow is raised, sinfully plump lips pulled into a smirk as he points at the screen.
Channie: give me some creditt
Channie: im already packed and the route is already planned
You giggle, feeling the perpetual knot of nerves in your chest loosen. A weekend away with Chan sounds like the perfect thing. It'll be a way to get your mind off the maybes and anxieties from your appointment, and a way to spend time with your best friend.
A win-win.
You spend the next few days packing and gathering supplies for a weekend at the cabin, which isn't as simple a task as it sounds. Chan is adamant that you worry about nothing except getting your stuff together, so he won't tell you what he has planned or what to pack. After losing many back and forth arguments, you toss a little bit of everything in your small suitcase, leaving your backpack for entertainment and snack purposes.
Thursday creeps up slowly, then all at once. Unfortunately, you wake up to deep pain in almost all of your joints– even your fingers seem to be screaming with every movement. Getting ready takes longer than you want, but you push through, and it isn't long before you're sitting on your living room couch, waiting for Chan to let you know to come out. It was a wonder what large amounts of Ibuprofen could do.
You hear the familiar puttering of his engine before his text even comes through, the soft ding of your phone cutting through your apartment.
Channie: i'm here babygirl
Channie: coming up to help w ur bags
A warm flutter runs through your chest at his thoughtfulness. You're not sure you'll ever really get used to it.
You push yourself up from the couch, breath hitching when the movement causes a dull ache to radiate down the length of your legs. You pause, gripping the arm of the couch and squeezing your eyes shut for a moment.
It's fine, you reason with yourself. It's not that bad. You're fine.
You're thankful that you had the foresight to pack a suitcase instead of a duffle, at least this way you'll have something to bear your weight on while you walk.
Your jacket is slipped over one shoulder when you hear the buzz from your doorbell. Chan's smiling face greets you when you open the door, looking both insanely handsome and–
“Am I shrinking, or are you growing?”
He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his massive chest, which is somewhat concealed by the oversized sweater he's wearing. You want to scold him for such a light outer layer in the bitter late autumn, but your words get stuck in your throat as you find yourself tilting your head up further than usual to look at him.
And then you give yourself the pleasure of really looking at him.
His hair is its usual wispy, beautiful mess. He cards his fingers through it as he looks at you, smiling as though about to say something, when suddenly his smile drops, his eyebrows furrowed as he stands up straight.
“You're in pain.”
It’s not a question. He's providing the information to you as fact. You blink in surprise.
“Yes, I am, but how did you–”
"I can–” He cuts himself off, looking uncertain for a moment before shaking his head. "I just know you, babygirl. You're not putting much weight on your left leg, anyway."
Hm. He caught you there.
“How bad is it?”
You finish shrugging on your jacket. “Um, maybe six out of ten. But I took medicine, I should be– Are you sweating?”
It's a stupid question, because he is, and you don't need a verbal response to confirm it. Sweat is beating at his temples and dampening his hair. Something flickers across his face, but then his expression is back to normal again.
You watch him flip through a million different responses in his mind, but before he settles on one, he spots your bags next to the door and goes to grab them, slinging your backpack over his shoulder with profound ease. He's moving so fast and he's so jittery that you barely get a second to process everything.
“Chan,” you finally say when he whizzes past you again to put your remote back in the organizer. He pauses, back stiffening like he's a little kid again about to be scolded. He turns to you slowly. “Are you okay?”
You watch him take a deep, shuddering breath, his entire body seeming to expand and contract. The unnatural stiffness in his body seems like he's forcing himself to stay still, and you see his finger drumming patterns on his thigh.
You repeat his name, softer this time. “What's wrong?”
He shakes his head a bit too fast. “No, nothing, I–” He runs his fingers through his hair, pausing to grip the roots to ground himself to this moment. It works for a second. “I'm… okay. I can explain everything later babygirl, I just… I really just want to focus on spending time with you.”
There's a raw edge to his voice that makes your chest tighten. You study his face, taking in the exhaustion, the sheen from sweat, the way his eyes won't meet yours. Every instinct screams that something is wrong, but…
“Okay,” you relent with a sigh. It should be embarrassing how easily you fold for him. It should maybe even be studied. “But you promise that you'll explain?”
He deflates, eyes brightening with relief. “I promise. Chris-Cross my heart.” He punctuates his sentence by putting his hand over his chest.
You can't help the smile that takes over your face at that– the reference to the silly rhyme you'd made up when you were kids based on his English name. A bit of the anxiety in your chest loosens. “Now let's go before the traffic gets unbearable.”
You grab your keys and headphones, giving your apartment one last glance over before following Chan out of the door. By the time you finish locking up, he's already halfway to the elevator, his abnormally long legs quickening his pace. As you try to catch up with him, you can't help but notice his stature– how his shoulders seem broad under his sweater, how he just seems… more.
The elevator ride to the parking garage under your apartment building is quiet, but not uncomfortably. Chan is humming something under his breath, his increasingly restless fingers tapping out the rhythm on his leg. Despite all of it, you feel relaxed. No matter what's going on, this is still your Chan, your person.
He tosses your bags into his trunk with an ease that perks your entire body to attention. When you go to pull open the passenger door, he beats you to it, adding a dramatic flourish as he holds it open for you.
Your heart almost jumps out of your chest.
In the passenger's seat is a small pink box with a label from your favorite bakery, alongside a nice variety of drinks in the cupholder. He's got a pair of fluffy slippers on the mat by your feet, too, and you can see on the dashboard he's turned the seat warmers on.
“Chan,” you breathe. Your heart is doing strange things in your chest, and you're either feeling extremely touched or about to pass out. “You didn't have to–”
“I wanted to.” You turn to look at him, and he's looking away, scratching the hair at the base of his neck. “Felt like an ass, you know, being so distant and weird. Needed to make it up to you.”
It's entirely unfair that he can just… say those things to you. He's your best friend, so of course he's affectionate– that's just how he's been since you met in third grade. What started with bringing extra GoGurts and tying your shoes when you broke your wrist has just now turned into spoiling you with cabin vacations and things you mention offhandedly that you like.
No biggie.
He nudges you in the car playfully, making some lighthearted joke about him getting too soft on you. You can barely hear him over the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears, choosing instead to follow his movements in the rear view mirror. You watch as he pauses by the trunk, carding a hand through his hair and taking a big breath, before eventually making his way over to the driver's seat. He tosses his phone to you, effectively putting you on music duty, and then you're on the road in a matter of minutes.
Time with Chan is always easy. You talk about any and everything for the first hour of the drive, including his job, your lack thereof, and your appointment, and he listens to every detail carefully.
“So, they think it's a collagen issue?”
You nod, wiggling your feet in your new slippers as you shift your position. “They aren't entirely sure, but they're looking at collagen based connective tissue disorders, like Ehlers Danlos and Lupus. They think that could explain the other issues too.”
He looks contemplative as he peers around you to the mirror by your door, trying to merge into the next lane. “Are you scared?”
You shrug, body moving with the car. “Its.. complicated. On the one hand, it would be scary to receive a life changing diagnosis. On the other hand–”
“You're just happy to have answers.”
You nod again, taking a sip of the caramel latte he bought for you and wincing as you shift again. Long drives are always hard, but paired with the changes in the pressure as the two of you drive further into the mountains, your joints feel like they might disintegrate.
“Scale of one to ten?”
You blink. Chan hadn't taken his eyes off the road, so how could he have seen you shifting? You open your mouth, prepared to lie, but he glances at you with a single eyebrow raised. You sigh.
“Maybe a six,” you breathe.
“So the Ibuprofen didn't help?”
“It did, it's just wearing off.”
You put the latte back in the cup holder, using your hands to bear your weight as you try to find a comfy position to sit in.
“What do you need, babygirl?”
You fight the shiver his voice sends down your spine. “Nothing. Well– I don't know. Maybe a nap? Is that okay?”
“‘Course it is. Here.”
With sinfully dexterous fingers, he reaches across your lap to recline your seat for you. You let him, body going still as his strong forearm helps ease you back with the chair. When you're comfortable, he reaches behind him to the floor of the backseat, fishing around until he produces–
“Is that your couch blanket?”
His answering grin is soft. “The one you've been threatening to steal? Yeah. Maybe.”
He drapes it over you skillfully, with you having to do very minimal adjusting. The familiar, homey smell of his apartment– warmth and something else very distinctly Chan – floods your senses and wraps you in the warmest hug. It feels like coming home.
You adjust yourself again, sleep wanting to come now that you're cozy, but the dull ache in your legs doesn't want to let go. Without warning, Chan's free hand slips under the blanket and finds the knee of the leg that hurts with amazing accuracy. His hand feels blazing hot through the fabric of your sweats as he rubs his thumb in soothing circles.
“This okay, yeah?” he asks, his low voice a soothing sound to your ears. Words are caught in your throat, so you can only nod, but you don't miss how the pain starts to dissolve by his touch. You also try very hard not to think about how big his hand is on your knee.
“Get some rest, babygirl. I got you.”
The combination of his gentle touch, the music, and the smell of his blanket is making your eyelids heavy. As you finally drift off, a contented smile pulls at your mouth because no matter what, this is where you're meant to be.
This is home.
Chan wakes you up about half an hour before you're expected to arrive. However, paired with delays, the pitch blackness of the mountains, and the general unrestrainedness of Murphy's Law, you were only now getting to the cabin at just past 1am.
The cabin is beautiful, as always. It's nestled amidst a thick grove of evergreen trees, and its tall, warm wood exterior seems inviting even at the ungodly hour you two arrive. As he swings the car onto the gravel driveway, the headlights illuminate it, like it’s a secret just for the two of you.
“Cabin sweet cabin,” he murmurs as he kills the engine. He picks his phone up from the cup holder and gives it a few flicks, then suddenly the porch lights come on. You give a little stretch in your seat, your joints feeling pleasantly loose and mostly pain free– the nap worked wonders.
The two of you pile out of the car, the fresh mountain air filling your nostrils. It smells like pine needles and freshwater, with an undercurrent of something wild and electric, like the air before a storm.
“Is it supposed to rain?”
Chan barely hears you, his antsyness now back full force. He's got both of your backpacks and his duffle bag slung over his shoulders, and he goes to grab your suitcase, but you appear by his side and pull it away from him. He blinks down at you, seeming surprised to see you there.
You tilt your head to the side. He still looks sweaty, and from where you're standing, it still seems like he's radiating an insane amount of heat. His breaths are labored, and you find yourself reaching over to rub your thumb over his hand. However, once your hands connect, he jumps and pulls away like you've shocked him.
At your hurt face, he tries to backtrack. “Static,” he supplies weakly. You say nothing, and the tips of his ears turn bright red. “Come on, let's get you out of the cold.”
You try not to jump to conclusions. At the end of the day, if something is really bothering him, if something is really wrong, Chan will tell you. He has always been the brooding type, but there is but so long he can keep things from you.
Still, no matter how much you try to take things at his pace, you keep seeing his face at the clinic: the deep bags under his eyes, the messy hair. The last time you looked into those eyes and saw that same pain, you were in a hospital bed hooked up to more monitors than you could count.
Chan had been brooding then too, refusing to leave your side, asking the doctors all the right questions, keeping your parents up to date when they had to go back home. You remember one night in particular, when you were chalk full of pain meds and falling asleep under the whirr of an oxygen mask, he'd stood at your bedside and rubbed his thumb over your forehead to soothe you. You couldn't speak, too exhausted and in pain to move in any capacity, but you didn't need to. He spoke to you the entire time about everything and nothing, switching his murmuring to quiet comforts when you started to cry. Just before sleep took you under, you met his eyes– his exhausted, red rimmed eyes– and he gave you the softest, most tender look.
“We'll get through it, babygirl,” he had murmured. “You're gonna be okay. You'll come home.”
You did come home, of course, but that's when things became different. Chan was distant, constantly canceling plans, avoiding you.
You shake the memory from your head as you watch him fiddle with his keys in the lock. This weekend was meant to be about the two of you having fun. You could worry about everything else later.
Chan flicks on the overhead light in the living room area and the room floods with warmth. Everything looks just as familiar and homey as you recall.
Before you can take a good breath, he's got your bags and suitcase and is bounding up the stairs with them like they weigh nothing. You choose to busy yourself with getting comfortable, peeling off your coat and hanging it on the nearby hook.
You're tugging your hair back into a ponytail when he comes back down, and when you look up and spot him the scrunchie flies across the room.
He's taken off his hoodie, leaving him in a fitted white tee that does nothing to hide just how different his body looks. It's no secret that Chan works out, but he fills out this shirt like it was painted on him. You quickly pull your spare scrunchie from the other wrist to tie up your hair, trying not to dwell.
"Do you want me to put these in the kitchen?" you call out, holding up the bag of road trip leftovers.
"Yeah, just–" his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. "Just throw them on the counter. I'll organize everything later."
You pad into the kitchen, bare feet silent on the wooden floors. Everything is exactly as you remember it – the mismatched mugs in the cabinet, the worn wooden spoons in the ceramic holder, the string lights Chan installed last summer that give everything a soft glow. If you close your eyes, you could almost pretend nothing has changed.
Almost.
You find, unsurprisingly, that the cabinets and fridge are stocked full. Chan's parents likely came out to pack up some groceries when he told them you'd be coming. You find yourself leaning against an open cabinet, staring into space, your mind a million miles away.
"You okay, babygirl?”
You jump slightly – you hadn't heard him come up behind you. He's standing in the doorway of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair again, that restless energy still evident in every movement.
"Yeah, just..." you gesture vaguely around you. "Memories, you know?"
His expression softens, and for a moment he looks exactly like your Chan again. "Yeah, I know."
The moment stretches between you, comfortable and familiar, until your stomach decides to break it with an embarrassingly loud growl. Chan's laugh is startled but genuine.
"I don't remember that.” He jokes. “Hungry?"
You feel your cheeks heat. "Yeah, I think so.”
He starts rolling his sleeves up. “I could probably make some eggs and toast, if–.”
“It's one in the morning,” you scold him gently. “Nobody is cooking.”
He gives you a pout, which is comical considering his current stature, but you still feel a tug in your chest. “But–”
You shake your head, turning away from him so you don't relent. “No buts. We have tons of snacks. Help me find something.”
At your request, the two of you rummage through the drawers and cupboards. Everything either requires too much effort or won't agree with your stomach at this ridiculous hour. You're ready to call it quits and sleep for dinner when a lightbulb goes off in your head.
“Oh, can I have one of your protein bars? You always buy the good kind.”
His smile is soft, dimples catching the light in a way that makes his entire face seem like a dream. “Of course. They're in my backpack, next to the couch.”
You slide your way to his bag with an excited pep in your step. Chan, being who he is, always buys the amazingly expensive protein bars that manage not to taste like chalky disappointment. They're surprisingly filling, and you know they'll settle your stomach without causing a stomach ache.
You find his bag quickly in the low light of the room, squatting down to rifle through it. With your hand in the front pocket, you dig around until your fingers find something that feels like the protein bar box. In your hungry haze, you yank it out without thinking.
It is not the protein bar box.
Instead, it's a thick packet of paper. You go to put it back when the letter head of the genetic clinic you visited catches your eye, along with the words “After-Visit Summary”.
Maybe if your heart wasn't thrumming in your ears, you would've heard his panicked footsteps coming after you. But the only thing in your ears is the erratic beating of your heart, one that only gets worse when you turn the packet over and read the small words on the margin:
You were seen today for: Hormonal Changes. The following issues were addressed: Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome (Werewolf Gene).
You hear your name through the roaring in your ears. It's a soft, tentative sound that cracks around the edges. You turn, slowly, to see Chan almost right behind you, his face drained of all color and his eyes blown wide.
“Chan,” you breathe. You turn a bit more towards him, the packet still gripped in your hand. “What–”
"I can explain," he says quickly, desperately. His hands are shaking. "I was going to tell you, I swear, I just– I needed time to–”
He trails off, looking around the room as though looking for someone to help him.
Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome.
You came across this condition when you were researching the clinic, as they mentioned that they were the only place in the area that had the facilities to test for it. It was, as the paper put it, the werewolf gene. People with the condition experienced heightened senses of smell, increased strength, sensory sensitivities– they were werewolves, just without the whole full moon transformation thing.
To say the condition was rare was an understatement. Both parents had to be carriers for the trait, and even then it only occurred in 25% of those births.
And Chan happened to be one of them.
Everything clicks into place now. The sudden growth spurt, the feverishly hot skin, how he knows when you're in pain without you saying a word.
“This is why you were at the clinic,” you say softly. It's not a question.
He nods jerkily, still looking like he might bolt at any second. You stand up to take a step toward him and he actually backs away.
“Don't,” he breathes. “I'm… I don't want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” You almost laugh. “Chan, you're not going to hurt me. How could you think that?”
“No, you don't understand,” he cards his hands through his hair, pausing to tug on the roots. “I can't… I don't know how to control myself yet. I'm different now, I'm–”
“Still Chan.”
The sound he makes is painful. “You can't say that,” he breathes. His hands drop to his sides again. “You don't know what it's like.”
“So tell me," you urge. You move as though you're about to take another step towards him, and your heart drops at how his entire body flinches. “Chan. Chris. Christopher. Look at me please.”
The use of his full name does something to him, and you watch as he settles, eyes drifting over to you slowly. His gaze is intense, and in the dim light of the living room, you feel akin to a deer staring down a wolf, no pun intended.
It does not frighten you the way it should.
“Talk to me, please,” you beg. “You're my best friend. I'm here for you, always.”
“I can smell when you're in pain,” he grits out. It's not what you're expecting to hear. He clenches a hand into a fist, then lets it go. “You usually smell sweet, like caramel and linen. But then your scent gets an undercurrent of something harsh, like burnt sugar and metal, and I… I feel like–”
He lets out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he cuts himself off. “I can't control my strength. I've broken so much shit around the apartment. Don't wanna touch you. Don't wanna break you.”
“You won't hurt me.” You take the opportunity to get closer, but he must smell the closing distance because his eyes fly open. You're in front of him before he can move. “Do you know why?”
Chan's breaths are ragged and labored. “Why?”
“Because you're still my Chan. Still the guy who's been taking care of me since elementary school. Still the person I trust most in the world."
His breath hitches. "How can you say that? How can you just... accept this?"
You can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Chan, I'm literally at the same genetic clinic getting tested for a collagen disorder. Did you think I wouldn't understand what it's like to have your body change in ways you can't control?"
That seems to catch him off guard. He turns away, a frown tugging at his lips. "That's... that's different.”
“Is it though?” You pretend to be thoughtful. “Last I checked, it's like both of our bodies are changing in ways we don't understand. Like we both have to navigate a new normal.”
"That's exactly why I–" he cuts himself off, running both hands through his hair. "I can't risk hurting you. Not when you're already..."
"Already what?" You challenge, taking one final step. You're close enough now that you have to tilt your head back to look at him properly. "Already broken?”
His face twists up like you've punched him in the stomach. “No! God, no. When you're already going through so much.”
“A lot of what I'm going through is a waiting game, Chan– waiting for test results, waiting for appointments at specialists. You don't have to keep things from me because of that.”
You poke him in his side, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, this? Finding out you're a werewolf–”
“The correct term is Lycanthropy Syndrome–”
“-- This is the kind of stuff that keeps me grounded. Having other things to think about. Having you around.”
You watch the tension slowly bleed from his shoulders, almost as though he's deflating. There's obviously more he isn't telling you– you can see it in the way his eyes still can't seem to meet yours– but you don't push it. He's already said so much.
“So,” you start. You rock back and forth on your feet. “Can I make werewolf puns now?”
He rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“Are you pawsitive?”
He groans at that, a smile pulling at his lips despite himself. “You're the worst. I'm gonna leave you here and go home.”
But he's laughing anyway, his usual giggle that makes everything seem like it'll be alright. You beam at him. and your body lights aflame when he smiles back down at you softly. The two of you hold eye contact for a second, and you watch something untraceable flash in his eyes. Before you can even process it, he's looking away again and clearing his throat.
Another silence falls between you, but this one is different. Chan is fidgeting again, his fingers drumming against his thigh in that restless way you've noticed all evening. He's looking everywhere but at you, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.
"What is it?" you ask softly.
He opens his mouth once. Twice. Three times– words seem to be failing him again. You raise an eyebrow and he sighs, a sheepish smile on his big stupidly handsome face.
"Can we..." he starts, then stops. Starts again. "Would it be okay if we... like we used to..."
You wait patiently as he struggles with the words. His ears are turning red again.
"Can we share my bed?" he finally gets out in a rush. "Like– like when we were kids? Just for tonight. I just... I haven't been sleeping well since everything started and I… um…”
Your brain short circuits as the request processes.
Share… a bed. With Chan. Taller, wider, more muscular Chan. Chan whose body heat seeps through every layer of clothing. Chan whose one hand can cover your knee easily.
From the way your body reacts, your knee jerk reaction is to say no. He's already going through enough, and Lord knows what types of degenerate scent you'd be giving off if you spent an entire night with him.
But when you open your mouth to decline, you notice how he's standing, with his shoulders curved inward, trying to make himself smaller. His big brown eyes are pleading, almost desperate, and you think about how scared he was earlier, how convinced he was that you'd reject him once you knew the truth.
Fuck it.
“Of course, Channie.”
The smile on his face is nervous, like he expects you to change your mind any second. “Yeah?”
You nod, ignoring the way your brain tries to supply you with images of everything you want to have happen. "Yeah. Just... let me get changed first?"
He nods quickly, that restless energy back but different now – excited rather than anxious. "Yeah! Yes. Your stuff is in your room, yeah? I'll be in mine when you're ready."
He's bounding up the stairs before you can say anything. You take the moment alone to take a deep breath. You can do this. It's just Chan. Just your best friend.
When you reach your room, you duck into the attached bathroom to change quickly, opting for the full top and bottom PJ set rather than the oversized hoodie you were originally going to wear. You stare at your reflection, willing yourself to calm down and look normal.
Sharing a bed with Chan is not a new concept. When you'd first gotten close in grade school, the two of you tended to hop from house to house, sleeping wherever without a care in the world. The habit continued as you grew up– in college during study sessions, during movie marathons on school breaks, that one time a few months ago when you'd gotten terribly drunk at your friend Jeongin's birthday party. It had never been anything more than two friends seeking each other's comfort.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again, face flushed and breathing ragged. You force yourself to calm down– if Chan could smell when you were in pain, he could probably smell the indecency coming off of you in waves.
Everything is fine.
When you reach the doorway of the master bedroom, Chan is already in bed scrolling on his phone. You watch his nostrils flare for a second, eyes fluttering shut as he puts his phone on the night stand.
The king sized bed looks both too big and too small.
When he opens his eyes, he looks surprised to see you. and you watch red start to tint his neck. “Um. Hey,” he breathes.
You hover in the doorway, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you. "Hey."
Chan shifts, pulling back the covers on what has always been 'your' side of the bed “Um. Do you want... I mean, we usually..." He trails off, looking everywhere but directly at you.
You take the initiative and move towards the bed, sliding down under the covers until they reach just under your chin. Chan shuffles next to you, scooting this way and that, flipping like a hot dog on a stick. You both settle on your back eventually, staring up at the ceiling.
“This is weird,” he says after a few minutes of strained silence.
“Not weird,” you supply. “Just… different.”
“Different…,” he murmurs. “Different because I'm different?”
You almost laugh. “Chan, what? No–”
He's sliding out from under the covers before you can finish. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– this was dumb to ask.” You ignore the way your heart drops. “I'll go sleep in the other room. Or on the couch. Or–”
You grab at his wrist before he can go anywhere. He doesn't jerk away this time, but his entire body goes rigid. You rub your thumb along the pulse point on his wrist.
“You don't have to leave,” you say slowly. “It’s not weird because you're different. It's weird because we're both over thinking it.”
He lets out a little breath. “We are, aren't we?”
"Yeah." You squeeze his wrist once before letting go. He settles back down into the bed, still looking a bit uncomfortable, but not ready to run anymore.
You smile at him before holding open the cocoon you made in the blanket. "Come here, you big baby."
"I resent that," he grumbles, but there's a smile tugging at his lips.
It takes some maneuvering to find a comfortable position. Chan is hesitant at first, careful not to crowd you, but eventually you manage to guide him until his head is tucked under your chin, his arm draped carefully over your middle. His body curls around yours despite the size difference, like he's trying to make himself smaller again. When he finally settles, it feels like every part of him is contoured to fit you perfectly.
You ignore the heat in your stomach.
The silence that settles around you is comfortable now, broken only by your breathing beginning to sync up. His body weight is grounding, and the heat he's radiating feels like the world's best heating pad.
You're just beginning to doze off when Chan makes a low, displeased grunt in the back of his throat. You can feel his eyebrows scrunch together where he's pressed against your collarbone.
“Your hip,” he murmurs.
“Hm?”
He shifts in your hold, maneuvering you until his other hand can slide under your body to wrap around you. “Your hip hurts. Or it's about to start.”
Sleepiness has made you a pliant, barely conscious little thing. You're about to ask how he can tell when his big, warm hand presses against your hip, heat radiating through the fabric until it settles deep into your bones. You can't help but let out a little whimper from the immediate relief it gives you.
Chan makes another sound in his throat, grip increasing on you almost infinitesimally.
“This good, babygirl?”
“Mmf.”
The warmth and relaxation is muddling your brain. “S'good, Channie.”
He makes a more pleased sound and nuzzles closer. Sleep takes you quickly after that, and all you can think about as you finally succumb is how lucky you are to have him here with you. You'd love to say as much, but you're too tired to open your mouth, so you give him the tiniest of squeezes, hoping he understands.
From the way his arm tightens around you, you think he does.
Things seem less charged in the morning.
You wake up to sunlight glittering through the curtains and the other side of the bed empty. The sheets are still warm, but given what you've come to learn about Chan and his temperature, he could've left the bed anywhere from three seconds to four hours ago.
You stretch a little bit as you try to wake up fully, heading to the other bedroom to freshen up for the day. It seems like an okay day pain-wise. You're at a steady three out of ten everywhere except your hands, but you brush it off. With the way you sleep, your hands take longer to catch up to the lower pain levels in the rest of your body. It's just a matter of time.
Still, you run them under warm water in the bathroom, hoping to loosen them up.
When you finally emerge, you follow the mouthwatering scent of cooking down the stairs and into the kitchen. After a nonexistent dinner, you're starved, and you could really go for some food right now.
You pause in the archway of the kitchen.
Food is… an understatement.
Chan stands at the stove, spatula in hand and preparing to flip what looks like an omelette. All around him on the counters are various other breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, hashbrowns, fruit–
“When did you have time to make a sourdough starter?”
He startles slightly, turning to face you with a sheepish smile. “Ah… good morning, babygirl. I may have.. gone a bit overboard.”
“A bit?” You slide into a seat at the edge of the kitchen island in the one spot where there's no food. “If you were planning to invite the woodland creatures you could've given me a heads up, I'd be decent.”
The responding huff makes you smile. “I cannot communicate with animals. Weirdo.” Chan grins. He folds the omelette in half and flips it over. “I just… I got hungry.”
You sneak a piece of bacon off of a nearby plate and snort. “‘Hungry’ seems like a gross understatement. Is this a side effect?”
Chan's ears turn pink as he plates the omelette. "Yeah, actually. My metabolism is... different now. Food tastes different too– more intense." He starts moving dishes to the kitchen island, careful not to overcrowd your space. "Everything is more intense, really."
"Like what?"
He hums thoughtfully as he settles into the chair next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. "Smells are the biggest thing. Like, I can smell everything. The coffee brewing, the bacon grease in the air, the rain that's coming later–"
"It's going to rain?"
"Yeah, probably this afternoon." He passes you a fork and a plate you never noticed him constructing. "I can smell it in the air. What’s the word? Petrichor, but... before the rain actually falls? If that makes sense.”
You hum around a fork full of eggs, cracking the fingers on your free hand. “That sounds like it can get miserable. Is everything just… enhanced all the time?”
He takes a bite out of a chunk of toast, making a so-so motion with his hand. “It's enhanced all the time, but the way it is right now, the intensity, that’s only sometimes. Only during–”
He cuts himself off, swallowing his bite of toast with more power than necessary.
“During the full moon?” You supply.
He nods quickly. “Yeah.”
There's a lull in the conversation that you try not to read into. It doesn't take much effort anyway, because you notice that eating is taking more effort than it was a few minutes ago. Your grip on the fork is weird, and you can't seem to close your fingers all the way around it.
That's fine, you think to yourself. You switch hands. Everything is fine.
You try not to let the revelation sour your mood. Chan mentioned it was going to rain, and while your doctors didn't know why you were in pain, they knew what kinds of things made it worse, and the air pressure changes from rain was one of them. This was just something you had to learn to deal with now.
Resentment for your condition rises in your chest with the little bit you've eaten, and you take a sip of apple juice to swallow it down. It's not fair. People your age were doing things like mountain climbing, running marathons, just living. And here you were, struggling to feed yourself and hold a fork.
It's fine.
A hand on your shoulder pierces through the dense clouds shrouding your mind, and you feel yourself startle a little. Chan is facing you, leaning his impossibly tall torso down to look you right in your eyes. His gaze is intense, gold flecks in his eyes swimming around as he stares.
“What hurts,” he breathes. The sound of his voice is light as a feather, floating through the air before coming to rest gently on your lips.
“My hands.”
“Scale of one to ten?”
You think about saying your number, but upon remembering how nice and easy conversation was this morning, you decide to lie. “Four.”
The look in Chan’s eyes grows more intense, and you swallow around nothing. He levels you with a very unimpressed look, eyebrows creasing and his plushy, pink lips frowning. He only says two words, but they send a ripple through your body anyway:
“Try again.”
Fuck. You're giving yourself whiplash. Jumping from frustration to stark arousal was an Olympics level move your brain wasn't prepared for. There's a different kind of haze clouding your mind now.
“It's a seven,” you breathe.
He's up on his feet before you can fully compose yourself, long legs taking him up the stairs and bringing him back down in a matter of seconds. When he sits down again, he's holding your decorative medication pouch and a mini water bottle from your backpack.
You gulp at the way the veins in his arm bulge.
“Which bottle is it?”
You come back to yourself, licking your incredibly dry lips before you respond. It takes a blink or two before you can orient yourself in the present. “Um, red bottle. The tall one.”
He places the bottle and water in front of you in a gentle way that contrasts the energy in the room. You fumble with the child proofing for a second before he plucks the bottle from you, undoing the lid with one hand.
Wow. Fuck.
"Thanks," you mumble, accepting the pills he tips into your palm. His hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck as you swallow them, and you try not to shiver at the contact.
“Do you need a nap while the pills work?”
You pout, finally coming back to your good senses. “We're supposed to have a movie marathon today.”
“I didn't realize the TV had a flight to catch?”
You glare at him, albeit thankful for the teasing sarcasm to loosen the tension. “You're not funny.”
Chan's lips pull into a smirk and he gives a little shrug. “I think I am.”
You roll your eyes at him as he stands, coming over to you and easing you out of your seat. He gives a little ‘tsk’ at your faux attitude, but his hands are back on your shoulders, guiding you towards the couch. When you finally do lay down, he's already throwing his signature couch blanket over you, tucking it around you securely.
“Comfy?”
You are, but you've also realized he's tricked you into a nap, so you do the adult thing and mock him before sticking your tongue out at him.
“Wow,” he murmurs. He slides down the couch and onto the floor. “I haven't seen that routine since 4th grade.”
You watch as he adjusts his legs a few times, his head resting against the armrest right by your fingers. It’s unspoken, but you know that he'll stay until he's sure you're asleep.
"You don't have to sit on the floor," you murmur. "There's plenty of room up here."
He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm good here.”
You watch his side profile for a minute, basking in all of his Chan-ness. He settles in a bit more and lets his eyes flutter closed. When he does, he leans his head back a little more, and you watch the delicate bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows.
“Chan?” Your mouth is moving before you know it.
“Hm?”
“Were you scared? When you… got the diagnosis?”
His eyes open at that, and he turns his head so he can look at you. The intensity from earlier is gone, replaced by that familiar warmth that only he has.
There's a beat of silence where all Chan does is stare, almost as if seeing you for the first time. It passes, though, and then he goes back to his previous position, eyes closed again as he speaks. “No,” he says finally. “I wasn't scared. The only thing I thought about was you.”
“Me?”
He nods against the couch. “They kept talking about what it meant and all of that, and all I could think about was how on earth I was going to tell you.”
You reach a hand over and start rubbing at his scalp in the familiar way you've always done. “And yet,” you tease gently. “I had to accidentally find the papers.”
He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, leaning into your hand. “That wasn't the plan,” he murmurs. “Was supposed to tell you properly.”
You stay quiet, continuing to play with his hair. The quiet domesticity is comforting, and you find your eyes fluttering closed too.
You move your fingers through his hair in nonsensical patterns and shapes, occasionally letting your nails graze his scalp. His breathing evens out eventually--he's not sleeping, no, just content and peaceful. You're a different story, though, and medication induced drowsiness starts flowing its way through your body.
Your movements grow slower and uncoordinated, hand drifting lower, and lower, until eventually your fingers trail to the nape of his neck. When you drag your nails across the sensitive skin there, Chan makes a sound that shoots straight through you and straight to your core– something between a pleased hum and a growl that vibrates through his entire body.
Both of you freeze. Your heart starts doing gymnastics in your chest while the sound echoes in your ears, making your body grow hot. Beneath you, Chan is rigid, like every muscle has been pulled taut.
The room is entirely still for a second. Then, he clears his throat a little, shifting himself so you have better access. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Keep going. Feels nice.”
You force your fingers to move again, continuing their exploration and tracing the curls on Chan's head.
You repeat your mantra in your mind:
Everything is fine.
The moment passes like a summer storm– intense and fleeting– and soon Chan is relaxed again, practically melting under your touch. You're actively fighting sleep now but you're realizing it's a losing battle. Your movements become slower, less deliberate, until your hand is simply resting in his hair.
"Sleep, babygirl," he murmurs, voice thick and honeyed. "I got you.”
So you do.
When you wake up a bit later, you find yourself, sadly, alone.
In place of Chan's thick curls is the cold rectangular slab that is your cell phone. You squint at it sleepily, not remembering bringing it down with you for breakfast or having it on the couch. You flick through the unlock process, and when your phone opens, it's on the notes app.
Hi babygirl. If you're reading this, I went to the store. We don't have any vegetables. I'll try to be quick. - Channie
You wipe sleep from your eyes as you sit up, trying to orient yourself in your surroundings. You hear the steady whooshing of the rain outside and carefully flex all of your joints. You're content to find that you're at a steady three out of ten everywhere.
You settle back into the couch cushions, pulling the blanket around you tighter. It's not scary to be by yourself, especially not in the cabin, but Chan's presence is definitely missed. You decide to fill the silence with television, something low stakes and stupid that you can listen to while you scroll on your phone.
However, the microscopic roku remote has decided to go missing, and after digging through the couch cushions twice, you sit back with a huff. You suppose your phone will do for now.
You open YouTube with the intent to watch one of your favorite Let's Play videos, but as you scroll through your homepage, something catches your eye. The title makes you pause:
Q&A: Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome (aka The Werewolf Gene)
The algorithm strikes again, you suppose.
The video was posted a little over a month ago and has a substantial amount of views and comments. The creator themselves has well over 100k subscribers. It looks perfectly legit. Before you can overcomplicate it and talk yourself out of it, you press play.
“Hi everyone!” The guy on the video has a soft, smiling face, accented by round, thin-rimmed glasses. “Welcome or welcome back to my channel. If you're new here, I'm Seungmin, and I have GLS, which stands for Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome. Or, to put it simply, I have the werewolf gene.”
You are immediately invested.
“I set up a question box on Instagram a couple days ago, and you guys really went to town.” Seungmin chuckles. “So I'll answer a few of those in this video.”
The first few questions are simple enough– what made him suspect he had it, the diagnostic process, how his family reacted. He answers every question thoughtfully and thoroughly in a way that makes you learn more than you thought you needed to.
You're writing down the fact that people with GLS tend to need more red meat than dark meat in their diet when he starts reading out the next question.
“@jutdae asks, ‘how does the enhanced sense thing not drive you crazy?’” Seungmin lets out a little laugh. “So, the sense thing is kind of tricky for non-GLS people to understand. On a regular day, it might be enhanced, but maybe only 50% better than most people. The real issue is when rut or heat cycles start.”
You drop your phone, cursing when it slips right into the couch cushions.
“During a rut–” Seungmin's muffled voice continues as you fish around for your phone. “-- it's probably around 150% better. And our body temperature will skyrocket, like a constant fever type. The extra sensory input can cause a lot of restless energy too, so we're always feeling like we want to crawl out of our skin. Thankfully ruts, or heats for AFAB people, only happen once every three months, for about a week.”
You finally find your phone, heart pounding as you fumble to hold it still. The boy on your screen adjusts his glasses before continuing, entirely unaware how he's just flipped your life on its head.
“Well, that's for people who've presented for a while. When you first present with symptoms, you can get your rut every month. And that's… an entirely different type of intense. I surely don't miss that.”
Your brain might be oozing out of your ears.
You don't need to Google what a rut cycle is. You already know. It's the one aspect of GLS everyone is familiar with.
You scan through the events of the last 36 hours with unfathomable speed. It's all there. Every single symptom mentioned in this video.
Extremely heightened senses. Restless energy. Fever-hot skin.
Chan.
Chan hasn't been able to sit still. Chan's skin is hot to the touch. Chan keeps telling you when your pain is about to start because he can smell it. Chan brought you to an isolated cabin in the mountains.
Chan is in rut. Chan's diagnosis was only finalized less than a week ago. Ergo, this is his first rut.
The sound of a car door slamming makes you jump so hard that your phone flies away from the couch and skitters onto the floor.
Shit.
You scramble to grab it, swiping out of the video before Seungmin finishes answering what you're certain are other life changing questions. You can't hear anything he's saying, laser focused on the sound of Chan's impending footsteps and the sound of rustling grocery bags.
“Babygirl,” Chan's voice vibrates from the entryway. “I'm back. You awake?”
“Yeah,” you call, forcing yourself to sound steady. You clear your throat. “Yes, I'm up.”
You hear him put the bags down and toe off his sneakers, socked feet padding into the room where you are, undoubtedly, staring like a ghost came through the door and robbed you of your possessions. You fight to fix your expression into something normal, but all of that goes out the window when he steps into the threshold.
He's soaked. The rain has soaked through his shirt, making it cling to his chest and highlight every cut of his muscle. His curls are wild, some of them plastered to his forehead while others seem to be competing for the best pose. There's water dripping down his neck an–
You find a spot on the wall to look at instead.
“Sorry I took so long.” He brushes his hair off of his face. “The store closest was closed, had to run way into town.”
“It's fine,” you squeak. He looks at you, eyebrows furred. “I was fine, just watched some YouTube. I wasn't up for long.”
He tilts his head, studying you with his nearly impossibly dark eyes. His lips push up, almost like he's pouting, but you watch as confusion takes over his gaze. He squints, and you burrow yourself further into the couch. If his smell is heightened, then he probably–
“You okay?”
You nod too enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. Why?”
He opens his mouth to say something, moves his body as though he'll take a step towards you, but he stops. You hold eye contact for a second, feeling small and exposed among his gaze. But then he nods almost imperceptibly, turning to grab his wet sweater from the entrance.
“I'm gonna get changed and make us some lunch. Sandwiches?”
You nod.
“Good. Find us something to watch, yeah?”
As soon as he's gone up the stairs, you collapse back onto the couch, pressing your hands against your burning cheeks.
Okay. Okay.
You're probably– definitely – making this weird. Maybe you've read too many werewolf romance novels. Chan is going through something a lot more tangible than turning into a wolf and scampering off into the moonlight, and here you are, being a degenerate as usual. He brought you here because you're his best friend. Because he needs support.
The rut thing… is just a coincidence. Or maybe not even a big deal, or something he wants you to worry about. Yes. That's it.
Distantly, you hear the shower turn on, and everything from your neck to the crown of your head lights aflame.
The remote chooses that moment to reappear, launching itself from the couch blanket and onto the floor. You snatch it up quickly, flicking on the TV and navigating to Netflix. You need something light. Something stupid. Something to fizzle out the charged energy in the atmosphere.
He'll handle himself… however that may be. You repeat this to yourself as you scroll through the comedy section, eyes blurring at the words in front of you. It's none of your business, anyway. You have one job right now, and that's finding something to watch.
You settle on a cooking show when you hear him coming down the stairs again. You focus on the TV, your mantra echoing around your skull as though you have no brain.
Everything is fine. You're fine. He's fine.
“Worst Cooks in America?”
You nearly jump out of your skin. He's standing behind the couch, now wearing dry clothes– a zip up sweatshirt and loose sweats. You notice, entirely by accident, that there's no shirt under the sweater. Just plain, exposed skin.
Great.
You hum out a noncommittal answer, just as he turns and heads to the kitchen, mentioning as he goes that he's using roast beef. You listen to the sound of the fridge opening and the hum of the toaster as he plugs it in, no doubt solely to put your bread to toast, the same way you've eaten a sandwich since you were eight years old.
You can do this. You can act normal. You're an adult, and you have been for a few years. Things don’t have to be weird just because you now know that your best friend is a delicate, walking bundle of hormones. Chan clearly trusts you enough to have you here, and you're not going to mess that up by being a disaster about it.
You hear him humming in the kitchen, puttering about through the cabinets, the clink of plates on the counter. It's so normal, so Chan, that it almost makes you forget about everything else.
You shake your head, hoping to physically dislodge the memories of the noise he made when you were scratching his neck– the deep, rumbling groan that ran through your sleep-riddled body until stopping to wake you up where you're most sensitive. It was just a noise, you make noises all the time.
When he appears in the doorway with the two plates, all smiles and soft around the edges, you take a deep breath before returning the smile.
You can do this. You can sit down next to Chan and watch the show and be normal. Everything is fine.
Probably.
… Maybe.
Everything is not fine.
The realization comes later in the night when the darkness from the storm bleeds into the darkness of late evening. It's nearing 10pm, and you and Chan are still seated on the couch together, now on opposing sides, still watching the same cooking show.
Or pretending to.
Chan seemed to be getting worse as the evening progressed. When he first came in from outside, he seemed calmer, less tense, but now he was sitting rigid, wound up like a toy no one would release. He was sweating an almost ridiculous amount, and the zip from his hoodie was pulled down to the middle of his stomach, exposing all the skin underneath.
His breaths were coming in short pants now. He had a steady grip on the fabric of his sweats, and you were almost certain that he'd tear a hole in them with the way he was grabbing them.
You weren't sure what to do.
You had tried nudging him with your foot gently a while ago, but when your skin made contact, he made another low sound in his throat that shot right up your leg and into your core. You pulled your foot away quickly, apologizing, making sure to press your knees together so the scent of arousal wouldn't reach him.
And that was before he had started panting like… well, a dog. Now you weren't sure you'd be able to reach him through the fog of his own mind even if you screamed right in his face.
You're about to try saying something, anything as the episode that was playing ends, but he shoots up off the couch before you can think of words to say. He's pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, visibly shaking with the effort of breathing normally.
“Chan,” you start.
He holds up a hand. “I'm– I'm okay,” he breathes.
He's not.
“The rain, I think,” he grits out. “Too loud. Too much. You're okay, though?”
Of course Chan would find the time to check on you while going through his own crisis. You sit up a little on the couch, staring at him even though he has his eyes covered. The words are coming out of your mouth before you can even think about what you're saying: “Do I smell okay?”
He grunts. You suddenly understand why cavepeople had so many kids.
“Smell fine,” he breathes. He slides his hands down his face, fixing his gaze away from you. “You do, I mean. You smell good.”
It dawns on you then that maybe the newly awakened wolf-like part of his consciousness is reacting to your smell because you're a girl, and he's in a rut. Maybe you should leave the room, give him some space?
You're trying to find a way to ask if that's what he needs without giving away what you know, but he fiddles with the zipper of his hoodie again, wanting to tug it down some more. He stops, takes a deep breath, and then drops his hand.
“I think I need a second,” he says. His hands are twitching at his side. “Need my room. Need the quiet, yeah?”
You nod. That's fine. It's for the best anyway, right? “That's okay. You can come back when you're ready.”
He nods, still not looking at you. There's a moment where he seems to hesitate, but whatever internal war he's having ends quickly, and he basically runs up the stairs. Just before you hear his door close, you hear the sound of his hoodie zipping down all the way.
Heat floods your face as you turn back to the show.
After a while of still failing to really pay attention, you pull your phone out from under the blanket. Despite the pure, unfiltered desire thrumming through your veins, you still want to help Chan. It's bothering you how bothered he is, how helpless he seems. There has to be something you can do for him.
You type, How to help a werewolf in a rut into your search bar, and after realizing very quickly that that's actually the title of an erotica series, you change your search to something more medical sounding.
It takes trial and error, but GLS and Rut Cycles Help seems to give you the best results.
You find a forum on a website dedicated to rare genetic disorders. It’s the one link that seems to have real information, ironically nestled between a fanfiction website and Twitter.
You stop on a thread that catches your attention:
Non-GLS Roommate Here: Any way I can help with heats?
Not in that way, they write. But my roommate just presented with this disorder and she's absolutely miserable, and I feel so bad. I'm not trying to fuck her, but is there anything I can do to help?? Meds? Chocolate?? Leaving her alone??
There are only a handful of responses, mostly people lol-ing about how non-lycanthropes always think a heat cycle is like a period. One answer sticks out to you:
if it's her first heat, she's probably running a pretty high temp. make her some cold drinks to bring the temperature down and the hormones may follow. that used to work for me. ideally, try to convince her to take a cold shower, but her instincts might be telling her not to. it's a delicate game lol. don't press the shower thing if you don't want her to bite. like, literally. AFAB lycanthropes have a thing for biting idk
It makes sense now why Chan looked better when he came in from the rain. It was, essentially, the cold shower that he needed. You wonder briefly if you could convince him to go back out, but you decide against it. It's dark now, and you don't need him getting hurt.
So, instead, you peel yourself away from the couch and head into the kitchen. There's tons of juice cartons already in the fridge, but you bypass them, instead grabbing the bag of lemons and the carton of blueberries.
The first time you made lemonade for Chan, the two of you were in fifth grade. You wanted to save money for the new and extremely expensive ride-on jeep that you saw in the store, and the only thing you could think to do was sell lemonade. You forced Chan (who had no interest in the car but wanted to help anyway) to sit down and taste batch after batch of your lemonade.
After he threatened to tell your parents you were trying to poison him, you made one last batch of the lemonade, and on a whim, dumped some blueberry syrup into it. He grumbled as he took the cup, but he couldn't hide his satisfied smile.
“That's the one,” he grinned.
You never did save the money for the car, but you kept the lemonade recipe anyway. There was nothing your blueberry lemonade couldn't fix.
And you were prepared to add rut fevers to that list.
You dump a ton of ice in Chan's reusable water bottle before pouring the lemonade over it, putting the top on and swirling it around. You take a sip first, nodding in contentment when it nearly freezes the back of your throat.
With your phone in your back pocket and the lemonade in hand, you make your way up the stairs, pausing in front of Chan's bedroom door. A feeling of nervousness washes over you, but you beat it down with a stick. You're just delivering some lemonade. You'll be fine.
“Channie,” your voice is tentative as you knock. “You okay? I brought you a surprise.”
You listen carefully. You can't hear anything on the other side of the door. You don't wanna bang or yell, knowing his ears are probably sensitive already. You knock gently again, really straining your ears to hear.
He must be asleep, you think. You'll just leave the cup on the nightstand for him to find when he wakes up. You turn the doorknob and push open the door and–
Subsequently drop the cup on the floor.
Chan is not asleep.
Chan is very much awake.
He can't see you, no, because his eyes are closed and his head is tipped back against the headboard of his bed. His face and ears are red, and his lips are extra plump. You wonder why until he bites down on his bottom lip, hard.
You let your eyes trail down. He's touching himself.
Oh.
One of his hands is wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously like it's just not enough. The other hand is white knuckling the pillow you slept on last night, bringing it up to his face so he can no doubt inhale whatever leftover scent is on it.
He has no idea that you're in the room. The pillow is already carrying your scent, so there's no intrusion to his senses. You should look away. You should go, you should…
You can't look away.
His hips are thrusting upwards to meet his hand now, his entire body writhing on the bed like he's trying to find the perfect spot. With his sweater open, you can see the contraction of his ab muscles as he moves, all the hard contours of his body chasing his pleasure. You watch as he twists his wrist, thumb sliding across the slit of his cock and smearing precum down the shaft.
You hear him make a sound, almost like he's grunting, and then he's mumbling something under his breath. It's low, too low for you to really hear it, but when he speaks again, you definitely understand.
"Babygirl," he groans. He squeezes his cock at the base before stroking it again. "F-fuck, babygirl."
It's then that you squeak, slamming a hand over your mouth almost immediately. His eyes fly open and he shoots up, face panicked, but he doesn't stop moving his hand.
"I'm-- I'm sorry," you manage. "I came to-- I just-- Oh my God."
Chan's eyes are wild as he looks at you. His chest is heaving and his curls are sticking up all over the place. He looks pained and conflicted, likely warring within himself about whether he should stop or not. From the way his ears turn a deep shade of red, you can tell he thinks that he should.
He doesn't, though. He's still jacking himself off, faster and faster, even as he gives you a devastatingly desperate look.
"Fuck," he grunts. "I'm sorry. I can't-- you just smell so fucking good and I–” He pants, looking at you with eyes that can barely stay open. “I can't stop. Babygirl, make me stop."
Your brain is malfunctioning, but the part of it that can still process information has taken notice of what he's saying. You were right earlier. It's your smell. Your smell is driving him crazy because you're a fertile, childbearing aged female. It's not poorly contained last or a bad decision on his part.
It's biology. It's what that primal part of his brain needs.
Your body goes hot as you think of your next words.
"You..." you swallow around nothing. You're wearing socks, but the cold from the floor seems to seep into your feet. "You don't– um. Do you… need help?”
His pupils blow.
"I don't… I don't want to hurt you," he whines, chest heaving as his fist pumps faster. "You shouldn't."
"But I want to help," you breathe. You take a step closer to the bed, legs shaking from the sheer intensity of how fast your arousal hits. "What if I want to help?"
He stops then, staring at you with the same intensity he had last night. You feel stripped, exposed, but you don't feel unsafe.
You take another step closer.
"Chan," you whisper. You're at the foot of the bed now. "What if I want to?"
He makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat.
"I won't… touch you if you don't want me to." You take another step to the side of the bed, feeling somewhat bold under his gaze. "But I'll... I'll let you touch me, if you need. Whatever you want. Just... just tell me what to do."
You're only a couple steps away now. Chan is practically shaking with the effort it takes not to move, to wait for your permission. It's then that you realize he's waiting for you to make the first move, and all of the power shifts to you.
You're standing right next to him now, the two of you locked in an intensely heated gaze. He reaches for you silently with the hand not fisted around his cock, moving slowly like you'll dissolve if he's too eager. When you nod, his hand slides down the length of your arm, fingers interlacing.
Then–
"Please," he whispers. His voice cracks on the lone syllable. "Please, babygirl. I need you.”
He brings the hand he's holding over to his already throbbing cock, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive skin on his tip. His head rolls back again and his hips buck up. You try not to shiver.
"I just... I just need this," he breathes. "Please. I won't touch you, I'll be good."
Maybe it's the desperation in his voice. Maybe it's the way his eyes look so innocent, absolutely contrasting what he's begging you to do. Whatever it is, you let your tongue dart out to wet your lips, throat feeling incredibly dry as you stare down at him.
You wrap your fingers around his cock tentatively, not missing the way his body seems to come alive at your touch, and start moving up and down. He's already so hard, his entire shaft coated in his precum so you can slide up and down with ease. The sounds he's making are going straight to your core, and you can feel the way your underwear is sticking to you.
"Tight," he grunts. "Tighter, please."
You tighten your grip, speeding up a little bit. You feel him thrusting upwards to meet your hand, his hand squeezing yours like he needs the support to ground himself. You let your thumb brush over his tip, using his precum as lube to give him even more friction.
He cries out, back arching. "Yes," he chokes out. "Fuck, babygirl, do that again.”
You do, swiping your thumb across the slit and spreading more precum over him. It makes everything slicker and wetter, and the way you're able to move faster now has him moaning nonsensical little things.
His hips are bucking up harder now, and you watch as his abs tense and release, the hand not holding yours going up to tug on his hair. Your body feels like a loaded stick of dynamite, and you're so careful to keep your hips still, knowing how badly you want friction.
"M’close," he breathes. "Fuck, babygirl. You feel so good."
You pump faster, giving him the extra tightness and friction that he needs. You watch as the hand in his hair drops to his stomach, nails digging into his abs.
You wonder how long he was in here like this, pained and desperate. You try not to think about him moaning your name in the empty room, fucking up into his fist as he thinks about you, chasing your scent on his pillow.
Just because of the rut, your brain supplies. Because it would be absurd to think otherwise.
You glance up at his face. His eyes are screwed shut, lips parted as he pants and grunts and makes other sounds in the air. The look on his face is enough to make you clench around nothing. You've only been hot and bothered for the last 5 minutes and you already feel desperate to cum, so you can't imagine what he's going through.
You let your other hand reach up to cup his face.
"Chan," you murmur. "Look at me.”
He opens his eyes slowly, pupils completely blown as he meets your gaze. You see sweat sliding down the side of his face, and you wonder if it's from his fever or his pleasure.
"You're okay, babyboy," you whisper. His cock jumps in your hand at that. "You can cum, you know. You don't have to hold back."
"Wanna--wanna be good," he grunts. You feel him start to thrust faster. "Don't wanna hurt you."
"You're doing so good, Channie. You're not hurting me."
The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you drop your hand from his cheek and slide it down the column of his throat, letting your nails scratch across his skin. His reaction is immediate, body spasming as he groans.
"Shit," he cries. "Yes, right– right there, Oh my God."
"Yeah?" You scrape your nails across the base of his throat again, making sure to be a bit rougher this time.
He nods quickly, the grip on your hand tightening. You take your other hand off of him, drinking up the sound of his whine before you slide it underneath his hoodie, feeling his chest up. You scrape your nails over his pecs, making him jolt a little.
"C'mon, Channie," you coo. "You're okay. I want you to cum for me."
He lets out a strangled sound, hips bucking up into your fist even faster now. His head falls back again and you see the muscles in his neck strain.
"Please," he chokes out. "I need-- I need--"
You slide your hand from his chest back up to his neck, finding the spot from earlier that made him make that deliciously memorable noise. When you drag your nails across it, his hips stutter in their rhythm, and that's the only warning you have before his entire body is convulsing with pleasure.
"Oh, fuck," he grunts. "Babygirl, fuck–”
His cock pulses in your hand as he cums, releasing all over himself and your fingers. You stroke him through it, gently moving your hand up and down until he's spent.
Then, there's silence.
You're not sure what you expect. Maybe for him to turn over and go to sleep, or for him to act bashful and apologetic, letting you know it won't happen again.
You certainly aren't expecting for him to grip your hips and lift you up onto the bed. Or for him to gently push you down on your back. Or for the desperation in his face to be replaced with something harder, something more in control and dominating as he says, “Please let me eat your pussy, babygirl.”
You almost choke.
You feel like you should protest. Tell him he doesn't have to, that this is already more than you thought you would ever get. But then he's sliding his hands up under your shirt, and the only thing your mouth can form is a moan.
He's never seen you naked, always a respectable gentleman, but there's no hesitation or uncertainty in the way his hands move around your body. He's not tentative and gentle like you expected; he's touching and pinching and running his nails along your skin like he's done this before, like he knows all your spots. He reaches your chest, where you have no bra, and rubs his thumb across your already hardened nipple. Your back arches and your legs fall open for him with a groan, letting him slot himself in the now empty spot.
He pulls his hand away, moving up to your face and cupping your jaw so you can look at him. He's looking down at you with dark eyes.
"Please?”
He's asking, you know, but there's nothing gentle in the way he's looking at you. You nod as best as you can, and he brings his hand down from your jaw to your chin, fingers sliding over your lips. You feel him nudge his thumb against your bottom lip, and you take the hint.
You open your mouth for him, letting him slide his thumb inside and rub it across your tongue. He's looking down at you intensely as you swirl your tongue around his finger, and when you suck on it a little, he lets out a grunt.
"Fuck," he breathes. He pulls his thumb away, watching as a string of saliva connects it to your lips. "You're gonna let me make you feel good, yeah?”
You nod again, but he gives a little humorless chuckle, head tilting at you.
"Use your words babygirl."
"Yes." Your voice is quiet. "Yes, I want you to.”
He stares at you for another moment. You watch his eyes dart across your face, your body, before settling on your lips again. He leans down then, hovering just above you as he licks his own lips.
"Gonna kiss you now," he murmurs. "That okay?"
You fear you look stupid, the way you're just staring up at him, jaw slacked and eyes going in and out of focus. You nod anyway, trying to act normal.
Or as normal as you can, under the circumstances.
He doesn't waste any more time after that. He leans down the rest of the way, pressing his lips against yours. It's slow at first, a sweet little thing that makes you feel warm and safe. You sigh into it, eyes fluttering closed.
But then he licks a stripe across your bottom lip, and you let out a pathetic little whimper, lips falling open just enough for him to slot his tongue in your mouth. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. It's desperate, burning, hot and filthy. He's licking into your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lips. You try to press your thighs together again, but his strong, muscular slab of body is between them, forcing them open.
His hands slide down your sides and settle on your hips. Your shorts do nothing as a barrier, and you feel every modicum of heat in his hands. He slips those warm hands into the waistband of both your shorts and panties, sliding them down your body antagonizingly slowly.
He sits back on his knees then, pulling them both all the way off before tossing them to the side. Then he leans forward again, pressing wet kisses to the skin right below your belly button.
"Chan," you breathe.
"S'okay baby," he mumbles against your skin. You feel a new wave of wetness flow through you. How could your usual nickname be even hotter with half of it missing?
Then he's moving his mouth down, down, down, and you feel him pressing his nose to your slit.
"Oh god," you whine.
"I know," he murmurs. You feel his tongue press against your clit, and your entire body spasms. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your legs and squeezing your thighs to hold them open. "I know babygirl.”
He licks you again, making you groan out loud. You can't help but bring one hand up to his curls, weaving your fingers through them and tugging on them like you've always wanted to. He responds by moaning, the vibrations shooting straight to your core.
You feel his tongue dip lower, spreading your wetness around. He dips it into your entrance, tongue fucking you at such a languid pace you feel like you'll fall apart. You hear him groan against your cunt again, and his hands tighten on your thighs.
"So wet, baby," he murmurs. "Taste so good.”
He presses his tongue to your clit again, and you pull on his hair harder. He grunts, and you feel him rutting up against the bed, his cock hard again, chasing some form of relief.
"Please baby," he mumbles against you. "Want you to cum for me. Please."
You know yourself, know what gets you going and what really makes you cum, so you want to tell him that it's going to take more than this, that you're not there yet, but you don't get a chance to before he's sliding a finger inside of you, curling it up and finding your spot with such accuracy your vision goes white.
You feel him suck on your clit then, swirling his tongue around it as he slides another finger inside of you. You tug on his hair again, not even realizing that you're grinding up against his face.
You feel yourself getting closer, chasing the release you've been desperate for since he pulled you onto the bed. His fingers curl inside of you again, pressing that spot and making you scream out his name.
"Yeah?" Chan groans against you, voice hoarse and desperate. "Like that? S'okay baby, let go."
"Chan," you choke. You're so, so close. "Chris. Chris.”
He moans at that, speeding up his fingers and moving his tongue even faster. He's rocking himself up against the mattress with more urgency now, panting and moaning with his mouth pressed to your cunt.
"C'mon babygirl," he mumbles. "Need you to cum. C'mon, please. Need it."
He presses his fingers into that spot again, and you're gone. You arch up off of the bed as you cum, his name ripping itself from your throat as he fucks you through it. You feel your cunt pulsing around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. He keeps licking, his moans sending vibrations straight up your spine until you're over sensitive, tugging on his hair for him to back away. He does, but not before pressing wet kisses to the inside of your thigh.
He sits up then, his hair sticking up all over the place from where you've been pulling on it. He's sweaty and breathing hard, his lips swollen and red from where you were kissing him. You feel his eyes roam over your body, and you know that if you look down, you'll see how your skin is flushed from your ears down to your chest.
He's still sporting a semi, but his focus isn't on that anymore. He gathers you up in his hands, pulling you with him to the top of the bed and settling you with him on the pillows. He presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you to rest your head on his chest.
"Sleep," he says into your hair. You notice how his body temperature has dropped-- he doesn't feel like an inferno anymore.
You're too tired to do anything but whine gently at the way he's holding you, too relaxed and spent to say anything. You feel sleep pulling at your eyes as he fixes your shirt over you carefully.
"Ah, shit," he murmurs. "Gotta clean you up. Then I'll come right back, yeah?”
You nod, trying to fight off sleep just a little longer. He presses a kiss to your hair before sliding out of the bed, going to the bathroom and coming back with a warm washcloth. You feel him wipe you down gently, and you mumble out something that might've been a thank you.
He takes the washcloth back to the bathroom, coming back to join you in bed. He pulls you back on top of him, settling the blankets over the two of you.
You're asleep before he can even kiss your forehead again.
When you wake up in the morning, you do your usual pause to see what does and doesn't hurt. You're mostly pain free, you realize sleepily, except for a dull ache in your hips and knees and a pleasant soreness in your–
Oh shit.
Everything slams back into you at once. The lemonade, Chan, him begging for you in more ways than one. It feels like you've been doused in cold water and tossed off of a bridge.
You go to sit up, but when you make an attempt to move, you feel an impossibly heavy weight around your midsection. Said weight snores a bit, and you realize that it's Chan's arm draped across you.
He's sleeping soundly next to you, hair still ruffled and unruly from where you were pulling it, lips still slightly swollen and red. The blankets are pulled up to his chin, hiding his body from view.
Your face burns as you try to really remember everything that happened last night, either to orient yourself through the brain fog or torture yourself. You're not entirely sure. Chan was... he was in rut, you knew that much. And you offered to help. Then he ate you out and gave you what was probably the most intense orgasm of your life, and then you fell asleep.
Typical stuff. Of course.
The memories are still there, but the reality of the situation has you panicking. His eyes are still closed, so you don't have to deal with the embarrassment of him catching you staring, but you're frozen anyway.
You're immediately hit with the overwhelming realization that you just made a mistake. There's no way you can possibly continue to keep your feelings for Chan a secret after this, no way that you can pretend you don't know what his amazingly deft fingers feel like inside of you. How would you ever be able to look him in the face again?
A vibrating sound pulls you from your spiral. For a second, you wonder if it's coming from Chan, but you recognize that, no matter what genetic issue he has, a person cannot vibrate.
The sound is actually coming from just off the side of the bed, where your shorts and panties lay discarded. You reach over and pluck your phone from the back pocket, turning it over to see an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen.
You're about to send it to voicemail when your heart sinks like lead along with recognition in your chest. It's the genetic clinic.
You're untangling yourself from Chan's arms in record speed, shirking your shorts on and stepping into the hallway. He doesn't stir, thankfully, but you still close the door gently behind you anyway.
"Hello?" You breathe.
The nurse on the other side of the line greets you enthusiastically, and after confirming you are the intended recipient of the phone call, she asks you to hold while she transfers you to the doctor. You wait anxiously for a minute or two, pacing your way to the kitchen island and picking at the skin around your fingers while you listen to the generic hold music.
"Good morning," the doctor says as she comes on the line. She, too, sounds far too chipper. "I apologize for the wait, I was in the middle of rounds when your nurse flagged me down."
"That's okay," you say. Pleasantries feel superficial right now.
"Right, so. We did get some of your preliminary genetic results back," she says. You can hear pages being turned on the other side of the line. "I wanted to let you know that, unfortunately--"
The floor falls from under your feet.
"-- You did test positive for Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Classical type."
You can't really hear anything else she's saying. Something about coming back in, maybe. About starting physical therapy. Taking care of yourself. You feel sick, like you might pass out. Or throw up.
You manage to push through the rest of the conversation, your voice sounding far away even to your own ears. She lets you know that she's sending follow-up information to your email, says that it's important to have support at such a time like this, and you make a very non committal grunt of acknowledgement before ending the phone call. Your phone chatters on the island, the sound echoing in the empty space.
You can't even form a concept of a thought before your chest feels tight, like there's a rubber band stretching across your ribs and pulling taut. You skin suddenly feels like there are a million and one tiny sets of feet thrumming underneath it. It's too hot. Your shirt is choking you. It's all suddenly too much at once: last night with Chan, the diagnosis, the way you're feeling an ache building in your back.
You need to move. You need to get out.
You're up the stairs before you can really process it, standing in front of your suitcase and rifling through it with speed. You find a pair of sweats and what you’re almost certain is Chan's old hoodie, but you toss them on quickly anyway.
The air is crisp when it hits your face a few moments later. It's exactly what you need. The path around the cabin is familiar– you've walked it countless times during family trips and weekend getaways. You know exactly where to step to avoid the mud, which trees mark the loop back to the house.
You walk until your legs burn, until the tears on your face dry in the cold air. Your mind races with everything and nothing at once.
Classical EDS. Your PCP was right about it being a connective tissue disorder. EDS explains the tummy aches, the racing heart, the migraines, and most obviously, the joint pain. There's no cure. Just management. Just a lifetime of being careful, of physical therapy, of putting in insane amounts of effort to make sure your joints don't fucking disintegrate.
You find this to be the most manageable of all the issues at the moment.
But Chan…
God, Chan. What were you thinking? He was in rut, vulnerable and needing comfort, and you just... what? Offered yourself up like some kind of heathen? Let him touch you in ways you've only dreamed about, knowing full well it would change everything?
This feels like the biggest issue to you, you realize when you pause on a tree stump. Because if you lose Chan, from something you initiated, you will lose everything else. He is the center of your universe, and everything revolves around him. You can't lose him, especially not over your own stupidity.
You think about going back. Talking to him. Maybe trying to convince him that you're fine, that he doesn't have to worry about you. That you don't like him like that, and you were just being a good friend and helping.
But then you remember his face when he came, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he moaned out your name. The way his fingers felt inside of you. How good he smelled.
You'll never be able to forget any of it now, you realize. And it will tear you apart if you lose him because of it.
You realize you've been walking much longer than intended when you catch a glimpse of the position of the sun. The morning chill has given way to a warmer temperature, though your face still feels numb from the wind. Your joints are definitely making themselves known now.
You suppose you may as well head back, even if you don't have any idea what you’re going to do when you have to face Chan. You can't stay out and freeze.
As you round the final bend that leads back to the cabin, you see him.
Chan is standing on the front porch, shirtless despite the cold, his hands visibly shaking at his sides. He's looking in the opposite direction, but you see when your scent hits him, because he whips around and his eyes lock onto you immediately. There's a look on his face that makes your chest ache– he looks terrified, like he's been coming apart at the seams.
You both freeze in your spots, an echo of that moment at the clinic. The silence stretches between you, heavy with everything unsaid. You notice then that his eyes are red, not the same red tint you now recognize from his rut, no. This is the red tint from that day he had to drive you to the hospital.
He's been crying.
“Where–” his voice is labored. “Babygirl. Where have you been?”
"I just..." you gesture vaguely at the path behind you. "I needed some air."
He takes a step forward, then seems to think better of it, stopping himself in his tracks. "You weren't... you were gone when I woke up. Your phone was on the counter, I couldn't... I didn't know where…”
He makes a pained noise in his chest, and then you see his entire face crumble. He pulls one of his arms up to his face, covering his eyes as you hear him start to cry.
Your heart breaks in two.
You rush to him as quickly as your protesting legs will allow, taking the stairs two at a time until you're in front of him. You reach up to gently pull his arm down, but he jerks away, a wounded noise escaping from his mouth.
"No," he cries. "You shouldn't– don't touch me. I'm sorry.”
“Chris,” you breathe, hoping to cut through his emotional fog. “Chris, please, look at me.”
“Tell me what I did.”
You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”
“What did I do wrong?” His voice cracks around the words. “Last night, I couldn't… control myself. And you were so good to me and then– you were gone.”
"Chan, no." You reach for him again, and this time he lets you pull his arm down. His face is streaked with tears, those big brown eyes red and swollen. "You didn't do anything wrong."
He shakes his head violently, words tumbling out around hiccups. "Then why did you leave? Why didn't you wake me up? I woke up and you were gone and I couldn't– your scent was gone and I couldn't–"
A sob cuts him off. You grab his hand and tug him towards the door. "Let's go inside. Please? It's freezing out here.”
He lets you tug him inside, at least just until you can close the door. You try to bring him over to the couch, but he's stubborn, keeping his feet planted where they are. He won't look at you, keeping his gaze downcast no matter how much you tug on his arm. You let go after a tense moment, sighing and wrapping your arms around yourself.
“Chan. The clinic called,” you say softly. “Thats why I left. My results came back.”
His head snaps up at that, understanding settling over his face. “You… did you test positive for–”
“Classical Ehlers Danlos,” you supply.
He looks like he'll cry all over again, reaching his hand out to you before pulling it back to his side. He squeezes his hands in and out of fists a few times before he shakes his head, tilting his head back until he's staring up at the ceiling.
“I'm so sorry,” he breathes. “Last night… I shouldn't have–”
“Stop, please,” you cut him off, voice hoarse in the quiet. You've run out of energy. “You didn't do anything wrong.”
“No, I did everything wrong. I thought I could handle it, thought it wouldn't be too much. Everyone told me it was a bad idea but I didn't want to listen, thought I could control myself.”
You feel bile rising in your throat. “What?”
He shakes his head again. “I shouldn't have said yes.”
He murmurs it, but the cabin is dead silent, so there's no way you don't hear it. There's no way you can misinterpret what he means either. Last night. He shouldn't have said yes when you asked if he needed help.
You take a step back, and you watch his face crumble a bit more. “Right.” Your voice sounds hollow. “It's fine. It was a mistake anyway."
"A mistake?" Now he looks confused through his tears. "No, that's not–"
"It's okay, Chan." You force a smile that feels like it might crack your face in half. You need to end this conversation now so you can go cry in your bed. "We can just forget it happened. You were in rut, I was... available. It's fine."
"Available." He deadpans. His gaze loses some of the previous softness. "Is that what you think? That I just... used you because you were there?”
You find yourself backing away towards the stairs, already mentally checked out. “Isn't it? You said it yourself last night, it was just my scent.”
His face flashes through so many emotions, you're not sure how you would begin parsing through them. He settles on something that looks like a mix of thinly veiled disgust and anger. He fixes his posture until he's back up to his full height now, brown eyes ablaze.
You decide to turn away from him fully at that moment. Whatever this is, this half argument you're having, it can wait until you've taken a good nap. You prepare to climb the stairs, keeping one hand on the railing and one foot on a stair.
That's about as far as you make it before you feel the unmistakable heat of Chan behind you. You stifle back the gasp that threatens to spill when he presses himself right up against your back, head dipped down so he's right by your ear.
“Ask me why,” he breathes.
You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear, and your entire body lights up in record time. You've forgotten how to speak, maybe.
So, you eloquently stutter out a simple, "What?"
He slides a hand around you, reaching from the base of your back all the way to your stomach, pulling you closer to him. “Babygirl. I said, ask me why.”
You swallow thickly. His voice is still hoarse and low from the crying, and it sends a shiver up your spine that rocks your body so hard, you think you would fall if not for the strong arm around you.
"Why," you breathe. The word has no conviction in it. You're getting dizzy.
He leans even closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your outer ear. "Because," he murmurs. "Yes, your scent smells so fucking good. So sweet and warm. But I don't want you because you smell good, baby. I want you because you smell like you're mine.”
You whimper involuntarily at that, and you feel him inhale sharply. His other hand reaches up to hold your chin, tilting your head up towards him. You're looking at each other now, his eyes blown wide and his pupils blown so black, there's barely any brown left.
"Do you understand me, babygirl?" He's breathing hard against you. "Even under the harsh scent of your pain, or the saccharine scent of when you're happy, something in you always smells like you belong to me. Do you know why?"
Your knees feel weak. Not from pain, but because of whatever is happening right now. You let out a pathetic mewl in Chan's hold and watch his nostrils flare.
"Because you are mine. My mate. You hear me, baby? Mine.”
Then he's tilting your head to the side and kissing down the column of your throat, nipping just hard enough to send electricity through your body. You whine, unable to stop the way your body arches into his touch.
He makes a low, rumbling sound in his chest, pulling away just long enough to look you in your eyes again. "Wasn't using you," he huffs, saying the word use like it leaves a nasty flavor in his mouth. "I needed you, needed your scent around me to make it better. I couldn't control myself, baby."
He spins you around so that you're facing him now, hands still wrapped around your waist. You think he's about to kiss you, but you see a wave of clarity and seriousness push everything else to the side.
“They asked me at the clinic,” he starts, shuffling with you in his arms until you're back in the living room with him. “If something happened to a family member, or if I had a girlfriend who was hurt.”
You're hanging on to every word, unable to look away from his eyes.
“I told them no to both, but I told them about the hospital, about how you called me crying cause you were in so much pain, and you just kept passing out on me. I told them about how scared I was that if I left the hospital, I would come back and you wouldn't be there. You'd be gone. It was ripping me apart.”
You reach up to touch his face without thinking, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He leans into the touch like he can't help himself.
“I presented because I wanted to protect you down to my very DNA. I was going so crazy about you that my body needed a way to protect me– protect you.”
“Chan,” you breathe.
“They said my inner wolf, that primal part of me, recognized it as my mate being in pain, and I was powerless to stop it. It's you, babygirl. It's always been you.”
The hopeless romantic in your heart is giddy.
You think about how you'd tried to touch him during the drive up, how he'd pulled his hands away like he was in pain. You supposed maybe he was. Going through his first rut, stuck in an enclosed space with his mate, unable to do anything about it.
You can't imagine the amount of restraint it probably took him to remain normal. The sheer thought of it alone has you blinking back up at him, looking right in his eyes.
With the eye contact, you feel his body swell microscopically, like he's flaxing every muscle so he can look bigger, more threatening, but he is neither of those things to you.
To you he is just Chan.
You're rising up on your toes before you even know what's happening, hand sliding up Chan's neck to pull him down towards you and catching his lips in a hot, burning kiss.
The hand around your waist tighten's its grip, slotting you even further against his body.
It feels like home. It feels like safety.
You feel his growing bulge press against you, and you hum into the kiss.
It feels like perfection.
"M'Sorry," he slurs against your mouth. He makes no effort to pull away. "Still in rut. Sensitive."
You say nothing, sliding your free hand down his chest, over his stomach until you reach what you're looking for. You rest your hand over it softly, not grabbing or pressing, but he responds like you do, grunting and rutting up against your hand as he starts panting.
"Babygirl," he groans. "Baby, please."
You start moving your hand in earnest now, cupping his bulge through his sweats as he grinds up against you. His eyes flutter closed and he pulls away from the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.
"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," he grunts. "Wanna be inside. Wanna cum inside you so deep you'll never forget who you belong to. Make myself your alpha."
It's insane how your body reacts to that. You feel your clit jump in your underwear. The Alpha/Omega thing wasn't real-- or at least wasn't based on any science with the condition, but the way Chan speaks, the way his grunts sound so close to your ear, you believe it could be.
"You're gonna let me, right?" He whines. "Please? I'll make you feel so good. Been so good for me already baby. Just wanna make you cum on my cock."
Your moan gets caught in your throat when he slides a hand down your body to grip the swell of your ass. Between that and feeling him, rock solid against you, your entire body comes back to life with desperate, almost delirious need.
"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Channie, please. Want you. Please."
His chest vibrates with a growl and he wastes no time pushing you back until you're laying against the couch. He kneels over you, large hand reaching down and palming himself through his sweats.
He notices what you're wearing at that moment. He reaches his free hand down, gripping the material of your– his – hoodie. It's entirely too big for you, even when you're standing, but laying back like this, the material absolutely dwarfs you.
He must like the sight of it, because you watch him grip himself tight.
"Fuck, babygirl. You don't know what you do to me. Wearing my clothes? Are you even wearing anything under that?"
Feeling bold, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater up, just enough so that he can see the expanse of skin right under it. When he looks back at your face, you give him an innocent expression, eyes wide and blinking.
He doesn't even bother taking anything off, just pulls his cock out of his sweats and starts stroking himself again. You feel your mouth go dry just from the sight of it– hard and flushed red, precum dripping from the tip. You grip the material of his sweater tighter.
“Gonna be good, baby?" he breathes. "Wanna get off like this."
You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. He looks fucking delicious above you, cock in hand as he strokes himself faster now, moaning at the way you look underneath him.
"Gonna make myself cum on your stomach," he grunts. "Mark you. Then I'll fuck you until you're screaming, so everyone knows who you belong to.”
You feel your cunt throbbing in your underwear. You cant help the way you whine out his name, the way you squeeze your thighs together to try to get some relief. He looks like he's going to explode just from hearing you say his name like that.
He leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch by your head, effectively caging you in. You can feel how his muscles flex under your hands as you touch him, sliding your palms up and down his chest. You find your eyes locked onto his hand, watching the way he moves up and down.
"Couldn't stop thinking about you," he breathes. "Fucked my fist so many times wishing it was you.”
You wrap your arms around him, one hand going up to that special spot at the base of his neck. As you graze your nails against it, he turns his face, pressing his nose into the pulse point on your wrist, inhaling you and your smell.
He starts moaning louder, breath fanning across your arm as he gets closer and closer to the edge. You're so turned on from it, you feel like you might actually cum without a hand to your body.
"Babygirl," he grunts. "Baby, fuck. I'm close."
You pull him down to you, pressing his face right into your neck. You can feel how his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll back, the arm by your head straining with how tightly he's gripping the couch.
"Gonna let your alpha cum on your stomach, baby? Mark you?”
You nod quickly. You feel him lean in even more, brushing his lips against the soft part of your throat where he no doubt can feel your erratic pulse. You right into his ear, and then he's groaning out your name and nipping at your throat hard, all teeth and tongue and need as he spills all over you.
He makes sure to press his body flush against you while he rides out his orgasm, so that his cum splatters all over your stomach. He grinds up against you with his hips, making sure his cock slides along the fabric of his sweater. You watch him get lost in it, eyes screwed shut as he mouths at your throat, panting and moaning through his high.
Then he stills, just a bit. He pulls away from your neck, his pupils still completely blown as he looks down at you.
You're not sure what he sees when he does. You know sweat is starting to stick to your skin, plastering little bits of your hair to your face. Despite not being touched yet, you feel absolutely cock drunk if only on the sight of Chan alone.
You can't tell if that's what he sees, but whatever it is, it makes his still-hard cock jump against where it rests on your stomach. He's pushing himself up to sit on his knees before you even remember your own name.
He slides down the couch until his face is level with your hips. He pulls the waistband of your sweats down just enough for your cunt to be exposed, and then he's leaning forward, dragging his tongue along your slit.
"Fuck," you cry, body jolting. "Chan."
He doesn't respond verbally, just hums and pulls back enough to stare at your dripping cunt. You find your hips bucking up when he lets his mouth water just enough to drool right on you.
He dives back down to your cunt and pushes his tongue inside of you. You feel him moan against you as he licks you, slow and deliberate. You can hear how wet you are, and you feel yourself throb around his tongue when you hear it.
"I kept noticing your scent change," he says against your clit. He gives it a few kitten licks before diving down and flattening his tongue on you, licking and slurping you from end to end. "Sometimes, I would look at you, or touch you, and you smelled like citrus. Couldn't figure out why."
He takes those absurdly plump lips and suctions them around your clit, one strong arm coming to hold you down when you arch up off the bed. "Thats just your scent when you're aroused," he continues, nudging his nose against your clit. "Smells so fucking good."
You're certain you might be delirious at this point. The way Chan eats you out feels so much better than anything else you've ever felt, and his tongue has you hurdling to the crest of your orgasm faster than you can believe.
"Oh. Ohh," you whimper. "Channie, m'so close."
"That's my good girl," he murmurs. His lips are still right against your clit. "You're so perfect baby. Let me make you feel good. Want you to cum for me."
He slides his tongue back inside of you, and you feel a hand come up to play with your clit. You're so dangling off the edge, so ready to jump with the right push. You just need a little more, but then you feel a finger slide inside of you and crook up.
You're gone. You cum with a shout of Chan's name, arching up off of the couch as your body shakes from the intensity of it all. He licks you through it, pulling away only when you start to whine and wiggle around from the sensitivity.
He sits back on his knees again, watching you pant on the couch as you try to collect yourself. You look over at him when you catch your breath, and you see him licking his fingers clean.
He leans over you again, and you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down. You don't bother asking first, just slot his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. It's absolutely wet and filthy, the flavor of yourself bursting over your tongue when he swipes into your mouth. You suck on his tongue, hard, and he groans into your mouth, hands sliding up under the sweater to touch your bare skin.
"Gonna fuck you good now," he grunts against your lips. You whine and press your body into his. "Okay, baby? Do you think you're ready for me?"
"Yes, Chris," you sigh. He pulls away from the kiss gently to stare at you. Despite the haze of his rut, you can see a hesitancy in his eyes, like there's something he wants but he's not saying. It takes all of two seconds for you to connect the dots.
"Please, Alpha?" you whine.
That seems to be the magic word, because he's lifting you up into his arms and standing up from the couch immediately. In a split second, you're pressed up against the wall next to the TV. You're very thankful for the layer between your bare skin and the freezing cold wall.
He wraps your legs around his waist, and suddenly you can feel the heat of his erection right on you. He presses his cock between your folds, holding you tight while he ruts up into you.
You're so wet that the head catches against your entrance every so often, making both of you moan into each others mouths.
"Thank you, baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically soft at a moment like this. "'m so grateful. So--" He lets out a pant, eyes rolling back as he lets his head drop back too. "Fuck."
You know Chan well enough to know what he's trying to say. He's thanking you for accepting him, for coming back to him, for letting him be vulnerable.
How could you not? He was so distressed by your wellbeing that a distant part of his DNA woke up to protect you. He ignored his doctor's orders to take you on this trip because he knew you needed it. He was content to suffer through his first rut in silence if it meant just taking care of you.
How could you not love all that he is?
You learn forward and nip him right as his pulse point, and his whole body jerks. You know werewolf lore, know that a bite there means a forever. You don't have the same genetic syndrome, but God do you want to be in his arms forever. You don't even feel like you need to question it.
His eyes, heavily lidded, find their way to your face. "You know what that bite means, right baby?" His voice is hoarse, and even when he clears his throat at your responding nod, it doesn't get better. "You wanna mark me there, babygirl? Make me yours?”
You nod, sliding your mouth up his throat until your lips are pressed right against his ear. You slide your tongue over his lobe and tug on it. "Please alpha. Wanna show everyone who you belong to."
He snakes a hand up your back until he finds your hair, fingers tangling in the roots as he grips, pulling your head back. "I mark you first," he grits out. "Let alpha take care of you."
You can't help the way you go pliant, letting your head fall to one side just enough to expose your neck to him. You watch his eyes and make your expression as wanting as possible.
He groans at that, finally pulling you away from the wall just enough so that he can line himself up. He pushes his tip right into you, and you press your forehead against his, the mixed sounds of your breathing being the only thing filling the atmosphere.
"I love you," he sighs. Your heart squeezes in your chest. "Gonna take such good care of you always, yeah?"
"I love you more, Chan," is your breathy reply.
"I'll give you everything," he sighs. "Everything you want. I just need you to come on my cock first, yeah? The alpha's got you. I got you."
Then he's pushing in slowly, and you both sigh as he bottoms out. You cling to him, pressing your face into his neck as he fucks you slowly into the wall.
He keeps it slow, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your forehead and hair, telling you how good you feel, how perfect you are for him, how you were made just for him. You're already feeling the pressure building up in your stomach again, barely paying attention to what he's saying.
"Gonna breed this tight little pussy," he murmurs at some point. You do hear that, and you clench hard around him, making him groan.
"Oh fuck," he gasps. "You want my seed, huh? Want me to fuck my seed in you, angel?"
Your walls around him again, swallowing him up. You know you can't get pregnant-- birth control and all of that-- but the idea of him filling you up has your body begging for more. You dig your nails into the skin of his back and you feel him throb inside of you. He makes a sound between a grunt and a moan, slamming his hips into yours, cock sliding into you deeper than before.
"Fuck," he breathes. "Fuck, m'so close already. Think you can you cum with me angel? Hm?"
You nod, clinging to his shoulders as you bounce up and down on his cock. It feels so good, too good, and you're already so close yourself.
"Chris," you whine. "I'm– fuck, I'm close."
"I know, babygirl," He sounds so wrecked. "I'm right behind you. You can cum for me baby. Cum for your alpha. Want you to cum on me, please."
He presses a kiss to your neck, right over your pulse point, and that's all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge. You cry out his name, letting him fuck you through it while your cunt pulsates around him. You feel him twitch in you, a deep guttural moan leaving his lips as he slams into you one last time, spilling all his cum inside of you.
He bites you then.
Its not painful, not really, because he doesn't break skin. His teeth aren't sharp enough for that. The bite is more performative than anything, but it sends a shockwave through your body.
It's a strange feeling, almost like your blood is simmering under your skin, but you're so lost in the bliss of your orgasm that you don't even care. It feels right, anyhow. Like the final missing piece to a puzzle you've been spending a lifetime constructing.
He stays there for a second, sucking a bruise into your neck. His hands are shaking, but he's holding you tight enough that you don't even worry about falling.
Then, he licks the spot on your neck where he bit, soothing whatever pain he might've caused. He pulls away from you just enough to press a kiss to your lips, still holding you up with his cock in you.
"I love you," he whispers. "My mate. Mine."
You reach a hand up to touch his neck, and he tilts his head to the side, giving away to the instincts thrumming under his skin. You take your fingers and trace them along the column of his throat, stopping just under his Adam's apple.
You don't say anything at first, just lean forward and press your lips against the same spot. Your bite is more restrained, more gentle. He hisses out a strangled sound, and you would assume it was pain if you didn't feel his cock pulse in you.
When you pull away, you look at him, a small smile on both of your incredibly fucked out faces. You lean forward and press a little kiss to his lips.
"I love you too," is your quiet reply. "My mate."
As promised, he's so gentle with you afterwards, cleaning you up and giving you your medication when he scents your hips are about to ache. The entire ordeal is so familiar, so cozy, you wonder how you could've ever let yourself believe that Chan didn't love you too.
Hours later, when you're cuddled together on the couch, dozing off in his lap, you hear him whispering something against your hair. Your mind is so muddled with sleep you can barely make out the words he's saying.
You string together something about mates, something about how he'll protect you, how you're his everything, how he loves you so much.
It doesn't really matter though. You know already, because he's yours, and you're his.
His everything.
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when it's less-than-ideal
✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader
— you can't judge a relationship only based on its good days.
w.count → 0.9k genre → comfort, a dash of comedy at the end warning → chan referred to as chris, babe, my love; reader referred to as baby and babe; kind of sad but it ends well♡ a.n → basically i'm projecting what kind of relationship-slash-communication style i want in a relationship, so... yeah. think i'll be on my own for quite a while, lol. anyways! i also have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop, do check it out♡ ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist
chris has been acting weird lately, and you don't know why.
you're usually not one to mind—given the way his schedules these days barely even spare the time for him to rest, you understand that your boyfriend is bound to be less like his usual self. you've sat down with chris to talk about it early in your relationship—the expectations, the ideal and less-than-ideal situations, the how-tos, and 4 years in, everything has all worked out just fine.
lately, however,
chris has been acting really strange.
"babe, i'm home," chris' voice softly echoed through the apartment, followed by the rustling of what you could assume is the layer of jacket and hoodie you got him to wear to battle the dropping temperatures of november seoul. "where are you?"
"kitchen!" you chirped, swiftly rinsing off the pots and pans you've been battling against for the past 10 minutes, "i'm still washing the dishes. are you hungry? i made some curry for dinner, it's in the—babe? are you okay?"
the cheeriness in your voice immediately turned into worry when you felt chris' arms around your waist, holding you tight as he allows himself to melt onto you, face buried in the crook of your neck.
after all the years of being at the receiving end of chris' special mix of physical affection, you've naturally learned to differentiate the meaning in your boyfriend's touches—is he just being affectionate? or is he trying to tease you? is he jealous of the interaction you had? or did he sense something and is trying to keep you safe? you have always been able to read chris just from the way his skin grazes upon yours, and so far you've barely ever been wrong,
but god, you sincerely hope you're hitting far from the mark this time.
"hey," you softly called out upon the absence of chris' response, quickly disregarding the dishes to rinse your soapy hands before turning to face chris' tired features, "is everything alright, my love?"
instead of an answer, chris simply leaned onto your touch as soon as your hands came to cradle his cheeks—ones freezing from the cold weather he just escaped moments ago, and only then, you realized just how long it has been since you've properly seen your boyfriend.
how come you haven't noticed the dark, looming shadow in his eyes? or the way his skin had lost its usual glow and instead grew dry with the season? how come you didn't see the way the corner of his lips had grown heavier, or the way his curls you oh-so adored had adopted its long forgotten frizz?
how come it took you so long to properly see chris?
"i'm sorry, baby," running the pads of your thumbs across chris' cheeks, you forced yourself to swallow the lump of guilt lodged in your throat, "i just realized i've been too inattentive to you, and i'm sorry. have you been wanting to talk it out with me?"
and only then, you saw the faint glimmer you fell in love with, peeking between the grey clouds in chris' eyes.
"yeah," despite the hoarseness in his voice, you could hear the warmth returning in the words chris uttered as he nodded, "but i just… i didn't know how to bring it up since i knew you've been dealing with your own stuff as well."
chris quietly exhaled, soft breath grazing your lips when he leaned his forehead onto yours and let his eyes fluttered close, allowing his walls of self-protection to finally crumble as he speaks, "i'm sorry, baby. it was never my intention to let this fester for this long or to make you feel bad in any way. i just didn't know how. i promise."
you know you're not perfect, and neither is chris—but you also know chris has always made it his life mission to make sure you're the happiest you've ever been when you're with him. one honest mistake will never erase the efforts and sacrifice chris has ever made for you, and you'll never let that happen.
"i know, baby," you hummed, lightly dragging the tips of your nails against his scalp when your fingers found the dark locks of his hair, "i don't blame you. i shouldn't have assumed about your condition and let it slip too. i won't let it happen again, i promise."
and you can feel the way chris' shoulder relax at the words you utter,
because just like him, he knows you'll do everything in your power to keep every single one of your promises.
"thank you, baby," chris pulled you into his embrace, completely engulfing you in his warmth while he pressed his lips on your forehead. "i promise i'll try to be better at this too, and thank you for being patient with me. i love you."
it didn't matter how many times have you heard chris whisper those three words in your ears, or how many times have he held you like you're everything that ever mattered to him,
chris will always make your soul feel the most alive it has ever been.
"i love you too, baby," you finally allowed yourself to smile as your arms found their way around your boyfriend's waist, holding him close as you listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat—
"…babe?"
"…yeah," chris sheepishly nodded while rubbing his stomach, "i haven't had lunch too, actually…"
a protest involuntarily slip past your lips along with the forming lines of frown between your eyebrows, perfectly portraying your disapproval of chris' course of action.
"go sit down, i'll fix your plate for you," shaking your head, you turned towards the pot of warm curry on the stovetop in faux disappointment before you continued,
"and we'll talk about whatever's been stressing my christopher out, okay?"
oh, you can definitely confirm,
the sound of chris' soft chuckle will never fail to bring a smile to your face.
©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡
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