#dino x you

[seungcheorry]

"fuck, i can't do it", you curse, stopping the way you're moving on top of dino.

he has his hands on your hips, helping you by grinding himself up on you too, but it's so clear that it's working so much more for him than it is for you.

"it's okay", he caresses your thigh as you sigh deeply. "do you want me to be on top?"

"i- i don't think i have the energy tonight, i'm sorry."

dino helps you get off him, ignoring the way he's growing hard inside his pants and the little wet spot forming on his boxers and focusing on you, laying you down beside him as he notices all the foreplay didn't even get you as aroused as you wanted to.

"you don't have to be sorry", a kiss to your shoulder. "just talk to me. can i help with something?"

you shake your head, staring at the ceiling. "i'm just tired, i guess. i'm stressed but i can't seem to focus on anything that could potentially help me relax."

dino hums beside you, understanding. he's been there before.

you look at him, reaching for his face as he leans into your touch. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to ruin the mood."

he chuckles, kissing your palm before slowly moving on top of you. "can i try something else though?"

when dino gets between your legs, hands grabbing the waistband of your pants, he looks at you. it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"yeah, go ahead", you nod.

and dino takes off your pants, and he makes himself comfortable between your thighs - and it's really beautiful the way his face has this relaxed look the whole time, but as soon as his mouth is on you it switches to a concentrated look, eyebrows furrowed in determination to make you feel good.

he holds one of your hands as he works you up, tongue doing wonderfuls as he moans back on you, proving the way you taste is his favorite taste ever.

"shit...", you moan, letting go of his hand to grab his hair, tugging at it and making him groan. "fuck, we should have started with this."

dino laughs - he fucking laughs -, and pulls away from you to look up at your face. it only makes him look cuter, the way his lips and chin are getting wet too.

"baby, i could do this all day if you'd let me", his hands run up and down your thighs again. "this is my favorite place to be."

"face burried between my legs?", you chuckle. dino eagerly nods. "then don't stop."

his breath catches on his throat at your words, and for a split of second he thinks he's about to lose it, finishing untouched.

but dino is a brave boy, the best boy, so he goes back to his task while still holding eye contact with you, promising himself that he'll make you feel good and relaxed first before he gets to take care of himself - even though it means enduring the pain he's feeling between his own legs right now.

[daechwitatamic]

Not So Loud || LC

banner by @itaeewon <3

Not So Loud lee chan x afab reader || fluff smut baby angst || f2l, only one bed trope NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You've been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years, despite his rejection seven months ago. When you're impossibly coupled up on a friendcation, you're determined not to make it everyone else's problem. Of course, you weren't expecting to have to room with him, and you certainly weren't expecting only one bed...

wc: 16.6k

warnings: language, recreational drinking, sooo much pining, baby misunderstandings, kissing, breast play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), piv sex (no protection mentioned either way), reader on top, mentions of shower sex

request by @eoieopda:

yes my fearless leader you may have even two crumbs of lee dino getting laid at the beach, i hope you enjoy every single second of it <3

“This,” you sigh blissfully, “is the happiest I may ever be.”

The sun is shining. Upbeat pop music runs like an undercurrent below the sound of the highway from the stereo of your best friend’s junky, decade-old sedan. Your iced coffee - light and sweet, but not too much of either - tastes like heaven. And the best part, the part that makes this day the best even if you didn’t have iced coffee or sunshine or Ruby or happy music, is that you’re less than an hour away from the beachfront house you and your friends have rented for the next five days.

All six of you had collectively been saving up for a full year and a half to make this happen, and there were times during the wait when it seemed like it would never come together between scheduling and money and rental availability. But now you’re here, racing down the highway to keep up with the flow of traffic, the ocean beckoning you closer.

“Now, now,” Ruby, the aforementioned best friend, scolds lightly. “What about your wedding day?”

You blow a raspberry. “What wedding day?” you shoot back sourly, but then you take another sip of caffeinated, iced perfection and your mood buoys immediately. It’s gonna take a lot to keep you down, today. Still, you rationalize, “I can’t even get to a third date.”

It was true. Your last third date had been almost two years ago. Since then, everything fizzled after one or two. Embarrassing. Something only Ruby - and, by proxy, her boyfriend Mingyu - would know about you.

“Because you compare them all to Chan,” Ruby says sagely.

The beams of sunlight are glaring. The pop music grates on your nerves, too boppy and much too happy. You set your coffee in the cup holder, your hand suddenly smarting from the bite of cold.

Coincidental to the third date thing, you’ve been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years. Another embarrassing Ruby-and-thus-Mingyu-only tidbit.

“Stooo-ooppp,” you whine. “If you’re going to spend the whole time making it weird about him, I’m going to find a way back home! I will walk there, just try me!”

“Now, now,” she says again, mildly. Your dramatics are nothing new to her. “I’ll behave. But I keep telling you - it would be significantly less weird if you’d just tell him you have a thing for him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. A thing.

An every problem I’ve ever had melts away and my soul floats three feet above my body every time your smile crosses your face kind of thing. A hearing your laugh makes me laugh even if I didn’t hear the joke kind of thing. A finding your gaze across a loud room makes me feel like no one else is there but us kind of thing.

A he doesn’t feel the same way, and he never will kind of thing. He made that super clear, about seven months ago.

And it gets worse.

You’ve had a week to accept your fate on this trip - a week since she’d called to tell you that the original rental had fallen through. To tell you that the replacement place is almost better (closer to the beach! a huge deck! a private pool!) except for the number of rooms. That since the other four people attending are made up of two couples, you and Chan would have to share a room.

(“The rooms are huge,” she’d assured you. “And the third room’s got bunk-beds! I bet will Chan will let you have top bunk if you want it - he’s a nice guy.”

You didn’t say, even though it is very true, that bunk-beds are really only a selling point if you are ten years old. But there were more important arguments to make. “I know he’s a nice guy,” you’d bit out. “He’s the nicest fucking guy I’ve ever met in my life, actually!” Hence the thing.

She’d paused and then pointed out, “You’ve met Seokmin, though.”

And, yeah, maybe on paper Seokmin is nicer but looking at his smile doesn’t feel like being filled with sunshine, so the point is moot.)

Anyway. You’ve had time to accept the fact that you have to share a room with the guy you’ve been in love with for over a year and a half. You’ve had time to accept that he might hear you snore, will see that you’re messy, that you’ll have to get changed in the bathroom for the whole trip, that you’ll have to get really good at pretending not to moon over him every time he speaks.

“I think,” you tell Ruby mildly, “that telling him that I want to lick his body from top to bottom and then get married might actually make things more weird.”

“I would just like to say,” Ruby’s boyfriend Mingyu pipes up from the backseat, his voice weary and long-suffering, “that this is an incredibly uncomfortable conversation for me.”

In your defense, you’d thought he was asleep.

Ruby descends on him like a swarm of locusts. “Don’t you think she should tell him she’s in love with him?”

“I actually do,” Mingyu says, covering his eyes with his hands as if he can’t bear to see what a disaster you are. “But I would heavily advise against mentioning the licking. Or the marriage.”

“It’s hyperbole,” you defend, flapping a hand in his direction. But, yeah, noted.

Excitement bubbles in your stomach, despite the rooming situation, when Ruby flicks on her turn signal and moves to exit the highway. Already, the smell of the air through the open windows has turned salty, and the thick tree-line along the highway has given way to cloudless blue sky and the occasional palm tree. It had been almost hazy when you’d set off at the crack of dawn (Mingyu had taken the back seat so he could stretch out and sleep a little longer) but now the sunrise has burned away all of that haze and given way to a perfect morning.

It takes only minutes for Ruby to navigate through the small, coastal town and to a row of vacation homes. You lose yourself in a daydream of waking up to take coffee on a sunlit balcony, listening to waves crash in time below you. In your daydream, across the balcony someone stretches their arms above their head, a sliver of belly peeking out for only a second, then turns to give you a sleepy smile, thinly-wired glasses perched on his nose.

Someone.

You shake yourself free of the fantasy; part of you feels like Ruby can read your mind, like she’s seconds away from calling you out for placing Chan in your seaside fantasy life.

Ruby, however, is too focused on finding the house to read your mind, and she slows the car and turns into a driveway, chirping, “We’re here!”

You all start grabbing luggage to carry in; the sun feels amazing on your skin, the sea breeze cool almost to the point of chilly and so salty it makes your nose twitch. You three aren’t even done emptying your car when you’re startled by a beep-beep-beepbeep-beep from the road behind you.

“That’s Soonyoung,” Mingyu says without even turning to look.

He’s right - it is. The second car, which carries Soonyoung, his girlfriend Lara, and Chan, pulls into the driveway next to you.

Chan greets you with a wide, happy grin (that, yes, makes you feel full of sunshine, whatever) and a quick, one-armed hug as he comes around the front of the parked car. Your moronic heart lifts, stupidly hopeful - until Soonyoung does the same thing. Your heart deflates again with the reminder that they’re just like this - nice, affectionate with their friends. It doesn’t mean anything. Chan’s attention to you is just as platonic as Soonyoung’s - which is to say, entirely.

You all manage to gather the luggage from both cars, and Mingyu follows the rental app’s directions to work the keypad at the front door. You all ooh and ahh as you step inside - the place is roomy, well-lit from sliding glass doors and windows that face the ocean, and decorated with (what else?) a kitschy, nautical theme.

You kick off your flip-flops onto a mat with an anchor on it (per the theme), and follow the others further into the house.

You head straight back through the house - the living room gives way into a dining room that ends with the sliding-glass doors. In tandem with Ruby, you press your face to the glass of the door and peer outside. You’re delighted to see that the ocean is right there, beckoning you to come play. Gulls swoop and call, loud enough that you can hear their cries from inside. Further down the beach you can see colorful umbrellas and tents that other beachgoers have set up. Below the deck, you can see just a strip of the private pool.

You pull yourself away from the back door and head into the adjoining kitchen, where Lara is standing at an open cupboard, examining its contents.

“We’re going to need to do a grocery run,” she muses, looking over at you. “I think all Soonyoung packed was ramen and soju.”

“What else could we possibly need?” he jokes from down the hall, his voice echoing.

“Coffee,” you say immediately.

“Beer,” Mingyu says seriously.

“Meat? Vegetables? Stuff for breakfast? Something to drink that isn’t alcohol?” Lara suggests.

“Who invited the Capricorn?” Soonyoung (the person who invited the Capricorn) grouses.

“Without me,” she tells him seriously, though the corner of her mouth twitches, “you’d be malnourished at best, and at worst? Dead.”

“Probably true,” you say, giving her a conspiratorial nod, and then you hear Ruby call your name from upstairs. Her voice sounds strained, and a little alarm bell goes off inside your head.

“Yes?” you answer loudly, hoping your voice will carry up to her.

“Can you come up here for a minute?” she calls down to you. Yes, there is definitely an edge to her voice that you don’t like. “Now?”

“Oh jeez,” you mutter, starting to make your way towards the stairs at the front of the house. You take the stairs quickly, calling Ruby’s name as you navigate the unfamiliar house.

She and Chan are both standing in the hallway, open doors all around them. Their faces mirror each other - disbelief, anxiety.

“What?” you ask, a little breathless both from the stairs and from anticipation. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s, uh,” Ruby stammers. It’s very unlike her to lose her confidence, and the unease in your gut churns again.

“What?” you say again, and when she doesn’t answer, you turn to Chan, who looks stricken. “What is it?”

“No bunk beds,” he manages, finishing Ruby’s sentence and gesturing to the room behind him.

You’re pressing forward without making the decision to move, without answering either of them, crowding Chan’s space so you’re chest to chest, peering over his shoulder. His hands hover near your elbows, like you might overbalance and he’s ready to steady you.

The room behind him is huge - as Ruby promised - complete with an ensuite bathroom and the balcony straight out of your daydream in the car. It also, as Chan pointed out, does not have bunk-beds. Instead, one king-sized bed is centered against the far wall, flanked by wicker nightstands with lamps on each and an old-school radio alarm clock on one.

You say nothing - you just back out of Chan’s personal space and swivel, heading for the other doors. Surely that was just the wrong room - one meant for one of the couples. Surely they just didn’t look hard enough, didn’t check the other doors, didn’t find the room with two beds that you’d been promised.

You find a full bathroom, a linen closet, one door that remains locked, and - to your dismay - two identical bedrooms, neither of which hosts more than one single bed.

Realization trickles through you slowly, building up higher and higher as you check the doors a second, and then a third, time. Ruby and Chan stay frozen in place in the dimly lit hallway, watching your frantic, pointless searching.

“Oh, my God,” you say hollowly. Then, turning, you narrow your eyes. “Ruby,” you growl. “You promised. Where is my top bunk?!”

“I don’t know!” she squeaks. “The listing said four beds!”

“Call them,” you demand flatly.

Beside Ruby, Chan’s eyebrows scrunch as he frowns. He says your name quietly, holding up a hand as if to calm you. “We don’t need to move houses,” he says gently. “I’ll take a couch. It’s not a big deal.”

You feel yourself shaking your head immediately. “I will feel like shit if you spend your vacation sleeping on the couch because of me,” you tell him.

He and Ruby exchange a long look (something that you don’t like very much, but no one is asking you) and then she tentatively says, “Could we work it out later? Maybe one of the couches pulls out into a bed or something? Or do you really want me to try and get us a different rental? This is already our second one, I’m not sure there are even other options still available…” She trails off, eyes wide.

You sigh, eyeing the ceiling above you as if it has answers. “Fine,” you say, because you can’t stand the thought of being the one who’s causing problems, ever the people-pleaser. “We’ll figure it out later.”

You head back down the hall, tromping down the stairs in silence to get your luggage.

Chan tries to take one of your bags for you, but you shrug him off and he lets you. You follow him back up the stairs, to the large room you’d looked at a few minutes ago. You both stand in the middle of it, looking around. You’re unsure if you should even unpack in here if there’s a chance you’ll end up moving to the couches.

“It’ll be okay,” Chan says, and it startles you out of your thoughts so badly that you flinch.

“Mhm,” you manage, because you don’t want to lie to him by agreeing.

“Hey,” he says, a little insistently, and you look up at him. He’s looking at you openly, his expression an impossible mix of concern and optimism. It disarms you immediately, in a way nothing else ever has.

There’s something always so earnest about Chan, one of your favorite things about him, and you can’t help but believe him when he continues to speak. “It will. We can, like, take turns with the bed or something. It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t let this ruin your trip. Okay?”

You nod silently, thinking about this. He’s right - there’ll be a solution. “Okay,” you say, managing to give him a little smile. “You’re right.”

The grin he gives you is mischievous. “I usually am,” he quips - and you love that about him, too: the way he’s playfully cocky, something ironic in the way he displays it, like you’re all in on the joke and he’s happily his own punchline. He disappears into the hallway, where you hear him heading down the stairs.

You wait for the tornado of butterflies in your belly to calm back down and then you look around the room. You finally decide to just leave your bags in a pile near the dresser, and head back down to find the others.

Everyone is standing around the kitchen table, where it seems like a grocery list is being split into Things That Can versus Things That Cannot be bought at the local liquor store.

“We can take one car and handle the drinks,” Mingyu is saying as you walk up and lean your chin on Ruby’s shoulder from behind. She absently reaches up to give your head an affectionate pat as you both listen. “Then the grocery team can take the second car, and whoever is handling the rental office can just walk.”

“Rental office?” you ask. “What for?”

“Just to grab our passes for the beach,” Lara answers you. “They’re like little tags. It’s part of what we paid for.”

“The rental’s under your name,” Soonyoung reminds her, “so we should probably handle that.”

“Yah, you just want the easy task,” Mingyu complains.

Soonyoung grins, guilty as charged not at all sorry about it. He grabs for Lara’s hand and heads for the front door. “If we aren’t here when you get back, we’ll leave your passes on the table!” he calls, and then the door slams shut.

“Asshole,” Mingyu grumbles affectionately.

The four of you look at each other in the resulting quiet. Then, Ruby asks, “Anything you want to add to our list?”

You lean further around her to read her phone screen, scanning what drinks had already been requested.

“Nope,” you tell her. “I’m good with that. Does this mean I’m on the grocery team?”

Chan looks up from his phone when you ask this, waiting to hear the answer.

Ruby and Mingyu meet gazes, seeming to have a silent conversation. Then, she gives you a sheepish look, almost a grimace. “Yeah - sorry, but I kind of wanted to go with Gyu on the drinks run, if that’s okay?”

You’ve been best friends with Ruby for a long time. You know her in and out, and you know this: she’s not like this, not sweet and apologetic. If it was just you two, she’d just say what she wanted. The act is for a reason.

You blink at her, trying to figure it out. “Of course it’s okay,” you say slowly. “If you and Mingyu are handling the drink run, then I’ll handle groceries with Chan.”

Ah. That was Ruby’s game - she paired you with Chan on purpose.

Meddler. Pain in the ass. Angel. Light of your life. She contains multitudes.

His eyes drop back to his phone. “You don’t have to,” he says, not looking at you. “If you want to go with them or catch up with Lara then I can handle it by myself.”

You frown. “It’s not really a one person job,” you observe. “And I don’t mind - really.”

“So it’s decided!” Ruby says brightly, moving to rest her hand on her boyfriend’s forearm. “We should beat you back, but we’ll wait for you guys so we can help unload the car.”

“Thanks,” you say, meaning it. For everything.

Ruby and Mingyu head out, and you meander closer to Chan. You’re not alone together very often - you’re pretty much always in a group setting.

You’d met through Ruby and Mingyu, years ago. You and Ruby were a very packaged deal, and Mingyu had a crew of friends that filtered in and out of your social events like they kept a scheduled rotation. When Soonyoung had settled into a serious relationship with Lara, the two of them became pretty permanent fixtures with Ruby and Mingyu, and Chan usually went where Soonyoung did. So then you were six.

How perfectly even. How serendipitous. How nearly fated.

If only he saw it that way.

But he doesn’t, he’s made that clear. It was Lara’s fault, actually. That night is burned into your brain, an unpleasant memory custom-made to slither into your brain when you’re trying to sleep before a big day.

The six of you had been bar-hopping on a Saturday night about seven months ago. It had been cool - late autumn teasing winter, and you’d been shivering as the six of you rowdily made your way up the block to your next stop. Laughing at something Soonyoung had said, Chan had reached around your shoulders sloppily, pulling you tight against him.

“Cold?” he’d asked you, as you tried to keep walking - a challenge because of both the alcohol in your system and the alarm bells going off in your head over his hand on your arm.

“Definitely chilly,” you’d managed to reply, looking up at him sideways. His profile was sharper than you’d realized before, and it sent a wave down your core, sinking like a weight through your stomach and into your lower belly and he grinned down at you.

You never wanted him to let go. Never, for the rest of your lives.

“You two are cute,” Lara had said drunkenly, the words a little slurred, as she leaned heavily on Soonyoung. You’d flushed, a little embarrassed, but Chan’s reaction had mortified you. His eyes had widened and he’d gone so far as to retract his arm from around you as quick as lightning, moving sideways to put inches between you again.

It left you frozen, a block of ice.

“No - we’re - we’re only friends,” he had said emphatically, and Lara had apologized, her hand over her mouth. Then, Ruby had tripped on the sidewalk and ripped the knees of her jeans, and the whole incident was forgotten.

Not by you, though. Never by you. This was the moment that floated up like the ghost of Christmas past whenever Ruby urged you to confess to Chan, which was more frequent than you’d like. The rush of cold in the absence of his arm, the way he’d stuttered in his hurry to refute the misunderstanding.

Message received, Lee Chan. Loud and fucking clear.

Didn’t change a thing about how you feel, though.

Presently, you try to push this out of your head - the fact that there’s no social buffer between you, no Ruby or Soonyoung to hide behind - before it can trip you up. “What’s on the list?” you ask. He hands you his phone, lets you scroll through everything he’d typed up.

“Okay,” you say, handing it back. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Yeah,” he says, a little absently, then starts patting at his pockets, eyes scanning the tabletop. “Yeah, I’m ready. Aish, Lee Chan, where did you put the keys?”

“They’re by the door,” you offer, remembering the small table you’d all dropped them on as you came in.

He shoots you a grateful smile. “Thanks. Let’s go?”

You nod, grabbing your sunglasses from the table and following him to the driveway out front.

It’s less than ten minutes to the nearest grocery, not even enough time for three whole songs to play through the car’s stereo, half-drowned by the roar of wind and sea through the open windows. Chan grins sideways at you as he parks, running a hand through his messy hair before unbuckling and stepping out of the car. You shake yourself from your daze and hurry to follow.

“What’s the game plan?” you ask, as you step out of the summer sun and into the fluorescents and air conditioning. Your skin prickles instantly upon the change. “Divide and conquer?”

He pulls out his phone and brings the list up. “I’d rather just stick together,” he says, looking at you sideways, his voice a bit thin - like he’s nervous you’ll reject the plan. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” you say, shrugging easily.. “I’m just following you. I’m the assistant. You’re in charge.”

Something flashes across his face - a shooting star of an expression, gone before you’re sure you saw it - and then he’s pushing the cart into the produce section, calling over his shoulder for you to go grab some peaches.

You wind your way together through the store. Each time he stops the cart, you each dart after something else from the nearby shelves then reconvene to look at the list again, shoulders pressed together as you squint at the small font.

It thrills you each time that he doesn’t pull away, each time that he doesn’t hurry to put space between you again as he had back in November.

Don’t make it weird, you beg yourself as you load a few cases of soda into the cart. Keep it in check.

A few rows over, the cart a third of the way full, you pause at a row of sauces. You step back, scanning the labels, then drop into a crouch to read those on the bottom shelf. Chan drops beside you, his knee gently bumping yours as he reaches for one of the jars, bringing it closer to scan the label.

“This one’s my favorite,” he says, and there’s something low in his voice that makes you look over at him. Your fingers overlap his for a second as you take the jar from him, turning it over so you can see which one it is. The moment feels staticky, charged with something.

You chicken out, shuffle back on your heels so your knees no longer touch. “It is a good one,” you agree, putting it back in his hand and pressing your palms to your knees as you rise again. “Get a few - I think Ruby likes that one too.”

He nods, looking away again, dutifully reaching to grab a second jar. You move on to the next aisle in silence. You almost feel like his energy seems… disappointed. But that wouldn’t make sense at all.

Turning the corner to the first row of freezers, you feel your body react instantly to the cold and you immediately fold in around yourself, goosebumps rising up your arms.

“Oh, it’s cold,” you complain. “Let’s hurry. Please.”

Chan doesn’t respond, but you can feel his eyes sweep over you, heavy, before he starts pushing the cart past you at, yes, a quicker speed. You shiver once, violently, before you hurry after him.

When you’re done, stepping outside into the sunlight feels like being released - like leaving school on the last day before summer break, like leaving work before a vacation, like stepping outside for the first time after rain has kept you inside for days on end. You let it warm you, happy, as you help Chan load the bags into the car.

You drive the few minutes back to the house in silence. As Chan makes the last turn, you wonder out loud, “Do you think Ruby and Mingyu finished before us?”

“Definitely,” Chan says, and he’s right - as the house comes into view, you can see that the second car is already parked.

True to their word, Ruby and Mingyu greet you at the door to help carry everything in and put it away.

“Lara grabbed us a spot down on the beach,” Ruby informs you, as you both stand at the back of the car, scanning for the lighter bags. “As soon as we’re ready we can head down.”

You let out a happy sigh. “I think an afternoon at the beach will cure me.”

“Nothing will cure you,” she deadpans, then literally stops mid-stride to correct herself. “Actually, something could. And it’s here, and available, and sharing your room.”

“I hate you a lot!” you tell her brightly, pushing past her with an armful of groceries and heading into the relative dark of the house, praying Chan hadn’t overheard her bullshit.

You hurry through the rest - getting the groceries away, getting changed for the beach, throwing the things you need to bring into a tote. Downstairs, the others wait for you by the back door. Chan is wearing Mingyu’s dumb-ass sunglasses and is clearly in the middle of an old-man bit, his voice reedy and sarcastic. Ruby cackles as Mingyu shoves Chan’s shoulder playfully, reaching to get his eyewear back. You can’t help the wave of affection you feel for them, your goofy friends.

You all step out into the sand, eyes adjusting to the sun. You follow Mingyu’s shadow on the ground as he makes his way towards the spot Soonyoung and Lara saved for you. You drop your tote in the sand and help Ruby spread out a blanket, using your shoes and bags to hold down the corners. Mingyu and Chan settle a small cooler off to one side, filled to the brim with ice and drinks.

You pull your cover-up over your head and toss it in the direction of your tote bag and stretch out, closing your eyes happily and letting your body relax under the warmth of the sun, the sound of breaking waves rhythmic and soothing. You’re startled by the sound of music and open your eyes again to find Ruby setting up a bluetooth speaker near the cooler. She looks at you sheepishly and hurries to lower the volume.

“Sorry,” she giggles. “Didn’t mean it to start so loud.”

To your left, Chan is pulling his white t-shirt over his head. Your eyes widen and you look away as fast as you can, catching Ruby react exactly the same, her eyes comically large.

You both turn your backs to the boys, and she mouths at you, what the fuck?

What the fuck is right. You’re used to being around Mingyu, who has an admittedly perfect body, and even Soonyoung is shockingly cut under those baggy t-shirts and cropped hoodies he sports. Chan’s always been the little one, the most normal, the most obtainable in his regular-ness.

Something’s changed since the last time you were all swimming together. He’d always had a nice body, but this…

You close your eyes against the bright summer sun, as if you can block out the curve of his pecs, the shadowed lines hinting at abs. None of those had been there last summer.

That motherfucker. First, he rejects you, then he gets hotter? You hope he gets eaten by a shark today.

You push yourself to stand.

“Where are you going?” Ruby hisses.

“I need a beer,” you tell her flatly. “Actually, maybe ten beers.”

“I’m not holding your hair today,” she warns you flatly, and you flip her off and make your way to the cooler. It’s going to be a long day.

You manage to get a few hours of peace and sanity by laying out with Ruby and Lara, just enjoying the music and occasional chitchat. Further down the beach, the guys run around with a volleyball but no net, making their own asinine rules.

“I still say you should tell him,” Ruby grumbles, after catching you watching Chan from behind your sunglasses for the ninth time, and you shoot her a warning look. But the damage is done - Lara latches on, her eyes sharp.

“Him… Chan?” she guesses. You feel your face heat.

“I’m that obvious, huh?” you murmur reproachfully.

“I mean,” she says uncertainly, looking to Ruby as if for backup, “I think you both are? If it helps?”

“Both?” you repeat flatly. “I wish.”

She exchanges a look with Ruby again, a silent conversation that you aren’t part of.

“He’s not into me,” you say, easy, like the words don’t cut at you. The salty air hits the wounds and makes them sting. “He’s been clear about that.”

Ruby’s brow furrows; you’ve never actually articulated this in front of her before.

“He has?” she asks, her voice suddenly gentle and almost sorrowful. “You never told me-”

“You were there,” you protest, then look over at the guys to make sure they hadn’t stopped yelling and running. “You both were, actually. That night when you tore your knee open outside of Ivy and Ivory?”

“Yeah,” Lara says slowly, her eyes on you, “I remember that night. That was… kind of the first time I thought he had a thing for you? Like, I know it was a while ago, but -”

“A thing for me?” you echo, working hard to keep your voice quiet. “When you called us out he was so horrified he couldn’t even touch me - he acted like it burned him -”

“Honey, no,” she says seriously, leaning forward. She looks incredulous at your perspective.

“Bestie,” Ruby says, giving you a please believe me, your best friend, who would never lead you astray look. “He was terrified that you’d get spooked.”

You press your mostly-empty beer can to your chin, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

“He wasn’t embarrassed at the idea of being coupled with you,” Lara whispers, her eyes on the guys, whose game has drifted only minutely closer to your blanket. “It was one of those like, shut up or you’ll scare her away moments. He wanted to kill me.”

“Literally, if he’d had a cartoon thought bubble, it would have said shhhh, not so loud!” Ruby adds. She peers at you. “Did you really take it like that this whole time? You thought it was a rejection?”

“He practically pushed me into traffic!” you hiss defensively, and both girls explode into laughter.

“That is not what happened,” Lara insists, and then heads to the cooler, leaving you, Ruby, and your very confused thoughts.

You look at her. She looks at you.

“I thought you knew,” she says finally, holding up her hands in mock innocence. “I had no idea you took it that way.”

You can’t respond - the boys return at this exact moment, Mingyu flops dramatically next to Ruby, panting heavily, sweat running down his face.

“Jagiya,” he gasps like he’s dying. “Water. Please.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, but a water bottle lands next to Mingyu’s head before she can get up. You turn towards the cooler and see Soonyoung standing with his hands on his knees, also panting, while Chan digs around for presumably another water bottle.

“You need anything out of here?” he asks you over his shoulder.

You shake your head. “Thanks, though.”

You rise, brushing errant sand from the backs of your thighs, squinting at the water. The waves are breaking evenly, and there’s room to tread further out past the breaking point. “I think I’m gonna go in,” you announce to whoever is listening.

Lara shakes her head, reaching one hand up to tug at Soonyoung, obviously wanting him to sit by her. Ruby flaps her hand at you as if to tell you go on. She’s never been a big swimmer, more of a giant unicorn floatie kind of girl.

You stop when you’re ankle-deep, letting a few waves break and rush over the tops of your feet, adjusting to the temperature. You start to wade in, the water rushing around your shins, when you hear your name called breathlessly behind you.

Chan jogs up, his hair pushed back, a thin silver chain bouncing against his collarbones. You look away before you can get caught. Ruby and Lara’s words race through your brain. Have you been wrong about him this whole time? Have you misread every signal over the last three years, viewed it through the wrong lens?

“You can’t leave me alone with them,” he complains, face twisting in exaggerated suffering.

You laugh. “Can’t stand being the fifth wheel, huh?”

He shakes his head, smiling, still trying to catch his breath from volleyball and then the jog over here.

“You coming in?” you ask him. “I was gonna go out and tread for a while.”

He nods. “You don’t mind if I join?”

You look at him appraisingly, new information starting to process inside your mind, shifting the rules you’d followed for months. The sea air makes you bold. “You?” you say. “I would never mind.”

You don’t wait to see his reaction; you step further into the water, hitting just above your knees when you reach the spot where the waves are breaking. You stumble a little as a wave hits your thighs, and Chan’s hand finds your elbow, firm but unassuming, helping you steady yourself again.

When you reach waist-deep water, you eye the spot just ahead where the waves reach their tallest point as they gather on their way to shore.

“We’re gonna have to go under that,” you tell Chan. He actually looks nervous, which makes you laugh. “Want me to hold your hand?”

The smile he sends you is both self-deprecating and relieved, like he can’t believe his answer is yes, but yes, and he’s so glad you asked.

“Come on,” you say, laughing again. You hold out your hand and he takes it, and when the next ocean swell rises before you like a mighty wall you hold your breath and tug him under. It’s an act of faith, dipping below the roaring ocean, hoping you time it right. You keep his fingers tight between yours and let your body sink.

You surface on the other side, in an area of relative calm. Beside you, Chan wipes at his face with his spare hand, which makes you realize you’re still holding the other. You release it gently, treading water easily. Chan can probably just touch sand if he stretches.

You tread together quietly for a few minutes, less than six inches apart. The sun glints off the water around you, dancing and sparkling as the water moves. You wish you could ask him about that night, years ago, confirm Lara and Ruby’s interpretation of the events. You could - you just aren’t brave enough.

You look at him, familiar and beautiful and - until today - unobtainable. What if you swam closer, what if you pressed yourself close and kissed him, right here in the ocean?

If it ruined everything, you could just let yourself drown. And if it didn’t… well, you could let yourself drown a different way, then.

You chicken out. You chat about inconsequential things instead - his upcoming trip with his family, a work project you’d recently wrapped up that you’d been talking about for months, what the plan will be for dinner when you all get tired of the sunshine.

It’s easy to talk to Chan - it always has been. He’s quick with a joke or a bit, but always open and earnest. He watches you quietly when you talk, accentuates his stories with his hands when it’s his turn. Eventually, Ruby joins you. Mingyu stands at the edge of the water, one hand shielding his eyes, watching her go.

“He’s not coming in?” you ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Doesn’t want to get his hair wet. God, the water feels great. Anyway, we’re thinking of heading in soon, to get showers and stuff before we figure out dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Chan says.

“I’ll be right in,” you say, and beneath the water you grab at Ruby’s hand. Stay.

Chan gives you both a wave goodbye and heads towards the beach. You both watch as he steps onto land, approaches Mingyu, and shakes like a dog, spraying water all over his friend. You can hear Mingyu’s shout of protest even from here, and Ruby’s maniacal laughter echoes around you.

“How’s it going?” she asks you slyly, when she’s finished laughing at her man. Like she knows the answer already.

“Nice of you to ask!” you cry. “Actually! I’m kind of having a meltdown! Because for nearly eight months I thought he’d told me unequivocally, irrevocably no, and now I am finding out that he… I don’t even know. What does it mean? That was ages ago, surely even if he felt something then…”

“Only one way to find out,” Ruby says, way too sensibly.

“That’s not helpful,” you grumble.

“It is helpful, it’s just not easy,” she says sagely. You splash a handful of water towards her head and she shrieks, swimming further away from you.

“That’s enough of you,” you tell her, and start heading in towards the sand.

Back at the blanket, the boys and Lara have mostly packed up. You pull your rolled up towel out of your tote and dry off briskly. When everyone is accounted for, you all collect your things and head back up the walkway towards the house.

You put everything away - leftover drinks in the fridge, wet towels in the washing machine, etc - and the couples disappear into their rooms, doors closing and locking up and down the hallway.

Which just leaves you and Chan.

You follow him to the end of the hall and into the large room you’ll be somehow sharing. He turns on one of the bedside lamps and stops to plug his phone in, then looks over at you.

“You wanna shower?” he asks, tossing his phone lightly onto the bed. You can only stare at him, short-circuiting, until he clarifies. “Do you want to go first?”

“Oh,” you utter, quickly trying to recover. “Yeah, if you don’t mind?”

He waves his hand graciously towards the dark bathroom, as if to say, be my guest.

Showering turns into a reprieve - a locked door between you allowing you to jumpstart your brain again as you feel the hot water remove all the hidden bits of sand clinging to your legs and back.

While Chan takes his turn after you, you escape outside with a cold soda from the fridge. The beach beyond your rental’s deck is still pretty busy, but the crowd has thinned a bit since you all packed up. The sun descends behind the house, which means the sunrise tomorrow morning will come over the beach.

Mingyu seems to be preparing the grill, and Ruby bustles around, bringing out ingredients and setting them close to the grill. On one of the cushioned benches, Lara drapes her legs over Soonyoung’s legs and talks with him quietly, both of them giggling.

Since it seems like your help isn’t needed anywhere - you’ll help set the table when the food is almost ready, as is your usual job as a non-cook - you sit with your cold drink and watch the waves break, lost in thought.

Lara and Ruby seemed so sure that you’d misread Chan that autumn night. There’s a small part of you that’s still doubtful, but at the end of the day you do trust their judgement. So, assuming they’re right, Chan had been interested in you. That was over six months ago, though. It doesn’t mean anything now except that… well… if he was interested in you once, there’s a possibility he could be again. Or still.

Your move, it seems, is to figure out if that’s the case. Chan hasn’t done anything recently to indicate that he’s disinterested, but he also hasn’t done anything to indicate that he is. He - like you - has played it very safe. It isn’t until now that you’ve questioned if it’s because he actually sees you platonically, or if he thinks that’s what you want.

One of you is going to have to push the boundary, to test the waters.

When Chan emerges from the house, freshly showered and hair falling over his forehead nearly to his eyes, you look up from where you’re sitting and watch him thoughtfully. He pauses at the grill to ask Mingyu something, then passes by the mess of limbs that is Soonyoung and Lara, then drops onto the seat next to you.

“Mingyu says it’ll be another twenty minutes or so until everything’s done,” he informs you.

“Guess I should get the plates and stuff,” you sigh, leaning forward to set your drink on the table.

“I can help you,” he offers, and follows you inside, where you both open cabinets and drawers in the unfamiliar kitchen until you find everything you need.

He heads outside ahead of you, his hands loaded with utensils and condiments, and you pause, watching his dark silhouette against the evening sunlight. Your heart tumbles, and you jerk back into motion, following him into the light.

You all stay on the back deck until well after sunset. As the sky sinks into deeper and deeper blues, you rise and plug in the string of lights that weave through the beams above the deck, casting everyone in a nearly-orange glow. Mingyu sets up the tabletop fire pit, but you end up chilly anyway as night takes hold.

You shiver once, and you notice Chan looking sideways at you.

“Cold?” he asks, and the wave of deja vu you get is almost dizzying.

You shake your head instinctively, more against the memory than actually answering the question. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you do have goosebumps rising along your arms.

He gets up anyway, heading into the unlit house without a word. You rise a beat later and head across the deck.

Ruby calls your name like a question, and in answer you point at the cooler tucked behind the grill, where you’d all stashed beer and water bottles. She gives a quick “ah” of understanding.

“You need one?” you ask her, as you shuffle behind the grill and pull on the cooler’s lid.

“I’ll take a beer,” Mingyu answers for her, and you dig through the bottles and cans until you find his preferred brand, reaching to pass it to him over Soonyoung’s head. Then you turn back and look at your options, trying to decide if you want a can of spiked seltzer or if you want to go inside and mix something a little harder.

While you’re deciding, the glass door to your left slides open, and Chan steps quietly back onto the deck. He’s in a baby blue hoodie that he hadn’t been wearing before, and he carries a bundle of dark material in his hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, holding it out to you. “It felt weird to dig through your luggage, so I grabbed one of mine.”

You take his offering silently, fighting a tiny smile. “Thanks,” you say, equally quiet, like you’ve both agreed you want to keep this moment between you, not call the attention of the others. You shake the dark hoodie out and pull it over your head, slipping your arms into the sleeves and fixing the hood so it’s not inside-out. The hem falls almost past your shorts, and the sleeves reach past your fingers.

Chan bends to grab a beer from the cooler, then heads back to where he was sitting before. You reach for your own drink, settling on a seltzer after all, and when you turn to head back to your spot you can’t help but notice him watching you through the flickering fire pit, something unreadable on his face.

“You good?” you ask him as you settle back into your spot.

“Yeah,” he says, but there’s something tight in his voice that makes the goosebumps rise on your arms again despite the new layer of warmth you’re wearing. That smells like him. You tug on the edges of the sleeves to pull the shoulders tighter and curl up on your chair, tucking your legs into the baggy material and locking back into the conversation.

The night moves slowly, the constellations rotating centimeter by centimeter above you, everything made comfortably fuzzy by the drinks and the firelight. Sometime before midnight, Ruby suggests a walk along the beach.

You go in bare feet, the cool wood of the deck stairs giving way to sand as soft as silk. Mingyu and Ruby take the lead, the rest of you trailing behind. At some point - long after the house disappears from view - Lara stops, pointing up at the moon - a sliver above the undulating sea.

The four of you stop and look for a minute. Down the beach, you can hear Ruby and Mingyu but they’re out of sight in the dark.

“We should probably catch up with them,” you say, looking in the direction of their disembodied voices.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the house, actually,” Lara says, looking up at Soonyoung to gauge if he agrees. “We’ll leave the back door unlocked for you all?”

They say their goodbyes and head back hand in hand, leaving you alone with Chan and that sliver of moon. For a minute, the night seems to expand around you, growing bigger and bigger and leaving the two of you so small within it. Chan looks at you silently, as if he’s waiting for something, one side of his mouth quirked into an almost-smile that makes your stomach swim with the desire to cause a real smile, to push that little almost into something fully-formed.

Then, Ruby calls your names loudly from further up the beach, and the spell is broken.

“Guess we better catch up,” Chan says wryly. You both turn and start walking in silence, nearly shoulder to shoulder. As you walk, the back of your hand brushes the back of his just once, and your entire body prickles at the contact. You almost shift away, give him a little more space, but something urges you to hold the line. You want to see what he will do.

You keep walking, close enough that you can hear him breathing, hear the sand slide each time he takes a step. The back of his hands brushes yours again, warm. He doesn’t react, so neither do you.

You carry on, knuckles occasionally bumping his, until you find Ruby and Mingyu. They’re standing watching the moon, Mingyu wrapped around Ruby’s back like a giant, love-sick koala.

“Where’re Soonyoung and Lara?” Ruby asks, when she notices you.

“They headed back,” you say, stopping a few feet away.

“We should, too,” Ruby muses, eyes on the moon. “But it’s so pretty here.”

“It is,” Chan murmurs from beside you and you glance sideways at him, trying to read him. He’s staring out at the dark sea, the stars flickering in and out above it, giving you his profile. Ruby’s eyes flick to you, one eyebrow quirked. You look away, not wanting to get caught in this silent conversation, but you can feel the heat on your face, the smile tugging at your mouth.

The house is dark when you all return, and you let yourselves back in quietly, just in case Soonyoung and Lara are actually sleeping. You bid Ruby and Mingyu goodnight in whispers and head to the end of the hall. Chan closes the door and you flick on the bedside lamp, casting a low yellow light through the room.

Wordlessly, Chan begins to rummage through his suitcase, transferring items to a small pile - a pair of loose shorts, a toothbrush, his phone charger. It occurs to you, suddenly, that he’s gathering what he needs to leave - to go sleep on a couch.

“Chan,” you say. You don’t even know what you want to say next. You just know you don’t want him to go, don’t want him to sleep on a couch, don’t want to be here alone.

He pauses, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

What do you want to say? Stay? You balk, suddenly chicken again.

“I can take the couch tonight,” you say instead. He shakes his head, but you press on. “We can switch tomorrow.”

“Nope,” he says easily.

“Chan,” you say again. He keeps rummaging, his back to you.

“Chan,” you repeat, insistent. He turns fully, still crouching, and raises his eyebrows as if to say, yes?

“Do you want to just stay here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking. It feels like a moment of great enormity.

He shakes his head, and the rejection stings enough that you feel your breath catch.

But then he says, “No, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch. I’m trying to be a gentleman - quit fighting me.”

You realize, slowly, that he misunderstood what you were offering.

“No,” you say. “I meant… like… no one on the couch.”

He stares at you blankly, his hands open like he forgot he was searching for something.

Embarrassment licks up the back of your neck like flames. “The bed isn’t that small,” you say, a little defensive. “We could just, like, stay on our own sides.”

The blank look on his face slowly transforms. His brows come together, his mouth tucking into a rare frown. He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask something, but nothing comes out. His eyes flick to the bed and then back to you.

“I don’t…” he says, and the heat of embarrassment heightens. He clears his throat and tries again, “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he says slowly.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t okay with it,” you point out.

He nods slowly, then pushes himself to stand. “Are you extremely sure?” he asks, peering at you. “This isn’t a High Noon decision, is it?”

You laugh, the tension dissipating a little. “No,” you assure him. “I just… feel bad putting you on a couch… and I don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch either… and I think we can… not make it weird?”

“We can,” he says, like a promise.

You second-guess your decision the whole time you get ready for bed - as you brush your teeth, as you change into pajamas, as you settle into the side of the bed by the balcony and plug in your phone. You’re nervous you won’t be able to keep it not weird - nervous that you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, that the magnetic pull to touch him will be too strong.

But when Chan climbs into the other side of the bed and clicks off the light, illuminated only by his phone screen, his warmth seeping into the blankets around you, it isn’t your hands that inch towards him. It’s your words. They claw their way out, desperate to reach across the six inches of darkness.

Chan, I’m actually really into you.

What really happened that night, when we were walking from bar to bar?

I’m in love with you, probably. I think.

Are you interested in me? At all?

You fight them all back, hold them all in. You don’t relax until Chan’s clicked his phone off and placed it on the nightstand, whispered goodnight to you, until you hear his breathing deepen. Just in case. Just in case the words get out the second you unclench - you need him to be asleep first so you can be sure he won’t hear them. You fall asleep with your face buried in the crook of your elbow, one last line of defense.

You wake up with your face buried in the crook of Chan’s neck instead of your own arm. You realize it instantly, body freezing like you’re about to get caught stealing, your whole body tight with panic. Like if you don’t move, you won’t wake him, and he won’t know that you cuddled him in your sleep.

Mortifying.

He’s mostly on his back but sort of tilted towards you, and you have one arm over his ribs, your nose pressed into the juncture of his shoulder. But, you realize as you stay frozen, his arms are around you. This was a mutual cuddle. Your legs are touching, too, one of your shins between his.

You try to breathe as shallowly as possible, fight the urge to stretch or roll or scoot away. You don’t want to alert him, pop this bubble, make the moment end. Chan is holding you as the sun rises over the ocean outside. It feels like another daydream, too good to be true. You never want it to end. You wish it was more real than this.

Slowly, you relax, one limb at a time, letting your muscles unclench and inhaling deeply. His skin, warm against your cheek, smells good - still a bit salty from the ocean, even after showering. But it’s only moments later that he stirs, his arms tightening around you and then loosening again as he makes a satisfied, low noise in his throat.

Then he goes still. You freeze back up, watching him for a reaction.

His mouth moves first, quirking sideways, and then he cracks one eye and peers down at you. A laugh bubbles from him and the cuddle is disintegrating around you as he shifts himself backwards and up on his elbows, still chuckling.

“Sorry,” he’s laughing, “sorry. I didn’t - that - I did not expect to do that in my sleep.”

You can’t help your own sheepish smile in return. “Me either, but it was actually comfy,” you admit. Now disentangled, you feel kind of cold and a little sad. But he’s acting like it was a funny goof, your bodies clinging to each other the second your brains turned off, so you’ll go along with the joke.

He rolls over and rummages on his nightstand, returning with his phone in hand and pushing thin-framed glasses up his nose. You look away, heart clenching. You love him in those; combined with the bedhead and his smell in your nose and the warmth of his skin not yet evaporated from yours and the feeling of his arms around you… it’s all a lot.

“I’m gonna… get dressed,” you say, reaching for your own phone. Chan hums a response and you vanish into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting ready as slowly as possible. When you come out, the bedroom is blessedly empty. You close your eyes and exhale. It’s going to be a long day.

When you finally head down to the kitchen, Lara and Chan are chatting easily at the table, steaming mugs in their hands. He’s still in those damn cute glasses.

“Good morning!” Lara greets you brightly. “There’s coffee!”

“God bless you,” you tell her seriously. You open a cabinet in search of a mug, but you’re faced with only plates and glassware instead. Chan appears at the cabinet next to you, reaching up and offering you a white mug with a cartoon seagull on it.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling weirdly shy considering you just woke up pressed against him. Once you fix the coffee how you like it, you take the seat next to Lara at the table. “Everyone else still asleep?” you ask.

“Soonyoung is, but I have to go wake him up in a minute,” Lara says, clicking on her phone screen to check the time. “We have a snorkeling thing at ten.”

“Ruby and Mingyu are out already,” Chan tells you. “Sunrise yoga. She texted us.”

“God,” you say, horrified. “Mingyu’s gonna hate that.” You realize at the mention of her text that you’ve left your phone upstairs.

Chan laughs. “Right?”

Lara rises, presumably to go wake up her boyfriend. “Her text said they’d be out until around four,” she tells you as she moves back into the kitchen to rinse out her mug. “I think they’ll beat us back, but not by much. Maybe we can go grab dinner when everyone’s back?”

“Sure,” you say, shooting a look at Chan to see if he has any opinions on this plan. He shrugs - no opinions to be found. You’ve always loved the way he could just go with the flow, happy to be along for the adventure.

You and Chan are still sitting at the table, coffees dwindling, when Lara pulls a bleary-eyed Soonyoung through the front door with a shouted goodbye, the sound of the car’s engine reaching you from outside. You look at each other, left alone together.

Again.

He gives you a flat, unamused look that he definitely picked up from Seungkwan or Vernon. “Are they doing this on purpose?” he asks, and a jolt goes through you. He’s said it. It’s like a curtain being pulled, shedding sunlight on something that had been shadowbound until now.

“Doing what?” you say, even though you know. “Leaving us by ourselves? Probably. Ruby likes to fuck with me.”

Chan laughs, and you’re filled with shaky relief that the moment isn’t weird. You both knew what this was, apparently, and facing it has put you on the same team against it.

“I thought it was to fuck with me,” he admits, still smiling.

“Two birds with one stone,” you muse. “For the sake of efficiency.”

But you wonder… why would it be fucking with him if he wasn’t interested in you? Is he admitting something?

“Well,” Chan says, stretching his arms above his head, fingers linked, “by all means, you can do your own thing today. You don’t have to babysit me. But it’s supposed to storm later, so I was thinking I’d use the pool a bit this morning while we still can, and then maybe go into town for lunch.”

You consider this. “That’s very pragmatic of you,” you observe lightly.

“That’s one of the first words I’d pick to describe myself,” he tries to deadpan, but the smile is too quick, telling on himself.

You let him get changed first, and when you make your way out back to the pool he’s already in the water up to his waist. You toss a towel onto one of the chaises.

“How’s the water?” you ask him, as you move to sit on the edge, preparing to let your legs dangle.

“It’s great,” he tells you, smiling easily, like he’s happy - happy you’re here, happy to be here with you.

You wonder if that’s the case, as you slowly lower your legs in, the water coming to lap a few inches below your knees.

“Feels cold,” you tell him. It doesn’t, really - way warmer than the ocean you played in yesterday, but you want to tease him a little.

Suddenly, his hands are on your ankles, holding you firmly. His hands are on your ankles.

“You should get in quickly,” he tells you, trying - again - to pretend to be serious, despite the smile he can’t combat. “Like ripping off a band-aid.”

“Lee Chan,” you warn, but a giggle rises up in you. “Don’t you dare. I will get in when I am good and ready!”

“I’m just trying to help,” he says, pretending to be hurt. His fingers are still pressing against your skin, your brain impossibly aware of the exact spot his thumb presses, as if there’s a beacon illuminating the place.

He gives your legs a playful tug, too lightly to actually move you. You squeal anyway, reaching down to splash water towards him. “Chan!”

He releases your ankles, taking a step back to avoid the splash, laughing. “Be careful,” he warns. “If it’s war you want -” He holds his hand like a knife above the water, ready to retaliate the splash.

“Oh my God, you menace. I’m getting in!” you cry, gripping the lip of the pool and sliding in, staying on your tippy-toes as your body adjusts to the temperature.

“Come on,” he goads, backing away from you, bobbing towards the shallow end. “You have to go under or it doesn’t count.”

“You’re a menace,” you repeat firmly, and he laughs, enjoying that his teasing has worked you up.

You eye the expanse of water between you - you’re at opposite ends of the pool now. “Do you think I could make it across in one go?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow. “Like, underwater? I don’t know - how’s your lung capacity?”

You laugh. “Maybe not good enough,” you admit wryly. “But I’ll try.”

You take a deep breath of salty sea air, only minorly marred by chlorine, and slip down below the surface. You let the bottoms of your feet find the flat cement wall of the pool, and you give a hearty push. It’s hard without being able to see how much farther you have to go, but you hate getting chlorine in your eyes, so you kick and pull blindly until your lungs start to burn. When your natural buoyancy pulls you upward, you don’t fight it.

Your hands find something warm and solid before you surface. Surprise causes you to rear your head, fucking with your balance, and your feet find the floor of the pool. You stand up unsteadily, blinking water out of your eyes.

Chan comes into focus, his expression tight, and you realize that your hands had found his stomach, centimeters above his belly button.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, pulling away.

It’s like ever since last night, you can’t stop touching, your bodies fighting to come together even as you both dig in your heels and try to stop it.

“No worries,” he says just as quickly. You try to cover the moment by wiping water out of your face, but you feel warm all over, the cool water useless against your heated skin as you try to push away how his muscled stomach had felt under your fingertips.

You spend a good hour just floating and splashing around. Sometimes you chat and sometimes you lapse into comfortable silence. At one point you hear him singing lightly under his breath, his voice surprisingly clear but frustratingly quiet.

Eventually, your stomach growls. “I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell him. “You up for lunch in town, maybe? I’d just need to shower super quick first.”

“Sounds great,” he says easily, and you both head for the single runged ladder at the deep end. Chan climbs up first, standing by the ladder, dripping onto the concrete. You grip the metal handles firmly and find the bottom rung with one foot, pushing heavily to hoist yourself up.

And Chan helps you up - his fingers finding the dip of your waist and guiding you until you’re steadily on the pool deck, something protective in the touch.

Your entire body thrums, electric, cells vibrating. You hurry to your towel and wrap yourself up, hiding your face in the material - pretending you’re just chasing droplets away from your eyes, but actually smothering the urge to scream, if you’re going to touch me then get over here and do it properly!

“Did you know there’s a hot tub under the deck? Was that mentioned in the listing?” Chan asks, and you uncover your face.

“Huh?”

He’s pointing, and then you see that he’s right - tucked beneath the deck is a decently-sized jacuzzi, the lid on and straps fastened shut.

“Oh,” you say breathlessly. “Well, I know what I’m doing after dinner.”

Chan laughs, and you head inside, careful not to drip a trail of pool water through the house.

The rest of the morning passes pleasantly and without any touching; you shower and get changed and go on foot into the small beach town. You find a cute open-air cafe and order lunch, the iced coffee absolutely divine under the warm summer sun. The company’s not bad either.

After you’ve paid and left, Chan pauses on the sidewalk and gives you a mischievous smile. “Up for a little adventure?” he asks.

You frown. “What level of adventure?” you ask cautiously. “Like, on a scale of jumping out of a plane being ten to laying on my towel in the sand being one, what are we talking here?”

He laughs. “Like a three,” he assures you. “We just have a bit of a walk - maybe twenty minutes?”

The walk is pleasant - you don’t even get too warm, as there’s a constant breeze off the ocean and clouds pass overhead, pitching you momentarily into shade between longer bouts of sunshine. When you turn a bend and see the lighthouse rise against the sky in the distance, you actually gasp.

“Can we go up?” you ask, delighted.

“That’s the plan,” he tells you, and for once you can read his face perfectly - he’s pleased that he’s surprised you, pleased to have made you happy. Something warm simmers under your skin, affection and happiness and something else.

It takes forever to reach the top. You have to stop and rest more than once, your calves burning and protesting the many stairs. A few families pass you on their way down, one mother telling you cheerfully that you’re almost to the top. This motivates you to continue, and you press on until you reach the final landing and step through the metal doorway.

The view is absolutely worth it. The beach and the ocean stretch out before you, the town in the distance behind you. Alone at the top, you feel like you’re in your own little world, surrounded by sunlight and the calls of gulls, just you and Chan.

You stand, holding the railing, watching the waves undulate far below you for a long time. “Chan,” you say, and then falter. You don’t know what you were going to say. Some part of you thinks maybe you’d been about to confess, or to finally ask him something to shed light on his feelings.

When he looks at you, expectant, you say only, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

And maybe you did confess something, because he reaches over and squeezes your hand, just once.

And then, he looks over your shoulder and utters, “Uh oh.”

You spin, following his gaze, and echo, “Uh oh.”

Dark grey clouds gather to the west. You remember him saying it was supposed to storm later; it looks like rain will be rolling in soon, ushering in the storms behind it.

“We’d better head down,” he says regretfully, and you follow him back inside.

You make it down and outside before the rain comes, but the sunshine of the morning has gone and left gloomy grey in its wake.

“You think we can make it back to the house?” you ask breathlessly.

Chan checks the time on his phone, already walking brisky back towards the direction of town and your rental. “Maybe,” he says, but he sounds doubtful. “We’ve gotta be quick, though.”

You barely even make it into town; you aren’t even back at the cafe where you’d had lunch before the sky opens. It happens exactly like that - one second it’s not raining, the next second you’re drenched, hair plastered to your face, shirt sticking to your back, spluttering breaths through your mouth like you’re being sprayed with a hose.

You let out a cry of surprise, and then Chan is grabbing your hand and tugging, pulling you off of the sidewalk and into a nearby doorway. You don’t even manage to see what the doorway belongs to - Chan is already pulling it open, his hand still in yours as he leads you inside.

It’s dark, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust as you wipe rain away from your eyes and shake droplets off of your arms. Beside you, Chan is doing the same, running a hand through his soaked hair and huffing out a noise of disbelief.

“That,” you say, “was bonkers.”

You seem to be in a dimly-lit dive bar, the kind that only locals go to. It’s pretty empty, since it’s early afternoon on a weekday, so when Chan raises a soggy, questioning eyebrow at you, you shrug and follow him towards the bar. Why not?

You take a seat wearily, and pull out your phone.

“We’ve got almost an hour until everyone is supposed to be back,” you inform him.

“In that case,” he says, and when the bartender meanders over, he orders you a row of shots to share.

You clink shot glasses for the first one, but after that you turn it into a game.

Chan narrows his eyes at you, mock-thoughtful. “What would you do if you woke up and your hands and feet had switched places?”

After answering (use my toes to order an Uber to the hospital), you volley with, “What would you do if aliens invaded tomorrow?”

Back and forth the game goes, punctuated by shot glasses being emptied and returned to the bar. What would you do if you woke up married in Vegas? … What would you do if you woke up one day and could only speak in rhyme? … What would you do if you were suddenly allergic to your favorite food? … What would you do if you were forced to join the circus?

You’re both laughing deliriously. Chan is wiping under his eyes in mirth, and you’ve hunched over so far that you find yourself with your hands on his knees, using him to stay upright on your barstool. Your surroundings have faded into colors and muted sounds with the alcohol in your system. All you can focus on is Chan, warm and solid under your palms, his eyes on you, the sound of his laugh cutting straight through the fog.

Then his next one isn’t so funny. “What would you do if you found out you only had a day to live?” he asks, and despite the seriousness, one last chuckle rumbles through his chest, like an aftershock.

Tell you. Tell you the truth.

You swallow. You take your hands off of his knees - you’re not sure he even noticed them there - and flex your fingers. And then, filter demolished by both alcohol and the sheer amount of time it’s been keeping you in check, you break.

Instead of answering, you fire back your own. “What would you do if I came onto you right now?”

Chan blinks at you, eyes as wide as you’ve ever seen them. He blinks twice more, and then his mouth opens. Your heart pounds.

“I’d - I - I guess, I’d probably kiss you,” he says, voice suddenly hushed, as if he’s a little unsure if he’s supposed to be honest or if the game is still a string of jokes.

You stare back. The two of you are frozen, both a bit wide-eyed, like neither of you is sure how you ended up like this.

Then, you breathe, “Okay, then do it.”

He nods immediately, breath coming sharply, and shifts closer on his seat. You feel like you’re holding your breath, waiting. Tentatively, he reaches up, brushes your jaw with his thumb.

Beside you, your phone blares to life on the bar. You both jump, startled out of the moment.

“Ruby,” you tell him hollowly. His hand still hovers near your face, but he nods, pulling it away. You feel like you can barely breathe as you slide your thumb to take the call.

“Hey,” you say into the phone, your eyes on Chan.

“Hey,” Ruby says, “where are you guys? Our thing ended early because of the rain so we’re back at the house.”

“Oh,” you say, trying hard to focus on her voice in her ear and not what just almost happened. “We’re in town. At… a bar? We came in to get out of the rain.”

“Perfect,” Ruby says. Across from you, Chan is rubbing his hands down the tops of his thighs, like they’re sweaty. You wonder if he’s nervous. “We’ll get changed and come get you guys in the car, and then we can go grab dinner together.”

You agree and hang up, then repeat the plan to Chan, who nods. He looks how you feel - a bit shell-shocked, a bit uncertain.

“We need to sober up,” you say. “Or, at least, I do.”

“No, me too,” he says, shaking his head. He sighs, and he might as well have said, goddamn Ruby. You hear it all. Then he seems to give himself a shake, orders you each a water, and asks to close his tab.

“They’re just up the street,” you tell him when Ruby’s text rolls in a bit later.

He nods, uncharacteristically quiet. You wish you could peek inside his brain and see what’s going on in there.

“Hey,” you say, and his eyes snap to you, that open look you know so well on his face. Your voice softens, and you resist the urge to reach out and touch his hand when you continue. “Here’s what I don’t want to happen - I don’t want Ruby to sniff out that something’s going on and interrogate me before we can… talk, ourselves. So let’s pull it together, and get through dinner, and then we can…”

We can what? Pick up where we left off?

He nods anyway, even though you’d left the thought unfinished. “You’re right,” he says.

And, somehow, you do. You both pull it together, rush through the pouring rain from the bar to the open car door. You smile and tease and laugh through dinner, like nothing had happened at all.

You feel relieved, in the back of Ruby’s car, as you all make your way back to the house. You did it - you got through dinner unscathed. Now you can go inside, and have some privacy, and talk and maybe figure out -

“Did you guys know the rental has a hot tub?” Chan asks, and you turn to look at him, baffled.

“It has a what?” Ruby gasps.

“Yep,” he says cheerfully, like he hasn’t just shattered your dream of getting a moment to yourselves. “It’s under the deck. Which means - hey! - it’s covered! We could totally go in, we wouldn’t even be in the rain.”

“That sounds great, actually,” Lara muses.

You say nothing, but when he catches you looking sideways at him, Chan sends you a wink, quick as lightning. You feel your face go puzzled, and he smiles and looks away, giving you no answers.

You’re somehow the first one to get changed and outside; it’s still pouring rain and you cover your head with your towel as you make your way down the steps and under the deck where some drips make it through, but you’re mostly out of the rain. A quick sweep of the area with your phone’s flashlight shows that there’s a string of the same lights down here as above on the deck, and you hurry to plug them in. Now that you can see, it’s actually kind of cute under here.

You unsnap the first strap for the lid, and jump when a pair of hands reaches next to you for the second one. You hadn’t heard Chan approach, but you silently accept his help as you push the lid up and off. You watch him out of the corners of your eyes to see if he’s going to say anything, address it at all. When it seems like he’s not, you turn to climb up the little set of steps, resigned.

His hand closes around your wrist, stilling you. He gives the tiniest of tugs and you relent, turning around. He gives you another tiny tug - you could resist if you wanted to, but you don’t, you don’t, you don’t. You let the tug pull you closer and look up at him, waiting. He kisses you quickly, firmly, close-mouthed for now but sure, his hands forming loose loops around each of your wrists as if he might want to tug you into place again.

The sliding glass door above you slides open and you step away, heart racing.

“Later,” he says quietly, and then you don’t get another second alone, Mingyu and Soonyoung’s voices bouncing through the space as they clamber down the deck stairs.

You climb into the warm water and choose a spot. Chan follows and sits a few solid feet away from you. You try not to look guilty when the other guys round the corner.

“Brought you a beer,” Mingyu says, reaching the extra can towards you.

“You are a legend,” you tell him gratefully.

Chan frowns, and for a crazed second you think maybe he’s jealous that Mingyu did something nice for you, but then he whines, “You didn’t bring me one? Hyung.”

“Calm your ass down,” Mingyu says, climbing into the water and finding a seat. You’re instantly more crowded, just from the sheer amount of space his long legs take up. “Soonyoung has yours.”

You snicker a little, and Chan gives you a light kick under the water. Above you, you hear the door slide open again, and a minute later Ruby and Lara appear beneath the deck, sheltered from the rain by Ruby’s towel.

“Oh,” Ruby says, surprised. “It’s not bad under here!”

“It’s cute, right?” you agree. “Still getting a few raindrops, though.”

“Eh, we’re in water anyway,” Soonyoung says easily, reaching up a hand to help steady Lara as she climbs in.

It’s crowded, and Chan’s two-feet-away doesn’t last. Instead, you’re crowded together, just inches apart. Ruby leans over the edge and turns on the jets, the top of the water creating a frothy layer.

“This is nice,” Lara says happily, closing her eyes and leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“It is,” you murmur, sipping at your beer. Under the cover of the jets’ bubbles, something touches your hand. Someone’s hand touches your hand. Chan’s hand touches your hand.

Your heart lurches. You beg your face to behave and give nothing away. And ever so slowly, you turn your hand over.

He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes on Soonyoung, who’s telling a story animatedly on the other side of the jacuzzi. But his fingers lace between yours, and his thumb brushes along the back of your hand, slow and tantalizing.

You’ve never been so undone by hand holding in your life.

You try to breathe. You sip casually at your beer and interject into the conversation when you can. You laugh at the jokes and look at whoever is speaking. You have no idea what the conversation is about. You hold onto Chan’s slender fingers like he’s a lifeline, like if you let go he’ll slip away, again and for good.

Later, he’d said, and his voice echoes in your head as you pray for later to be now. And finally, blessedly, Lara finally yawns, loud, and starts making moves to get out and head in. Which means so does Soonyoung. Then Mingyu lifts a hand from the water and examines his fingers, complaining, “I’m all pruny.” Chan gives your hand a squeeze and lets you go, reaching for his beer nonchalantly, watching Ruby and Mingyu carefully. You know you’re both waiting, impatiently, for them to leave you alone.

Leave, you silently beg, still trying to appear as casual as possible. Leaaaaave.

“You staying a little?” Ruby asks you, pausing halfway out of the hot tub.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to force your voice to stay casual. “I slept pretty late this morning - I’m not really tired yet.”

“Not all of us got up for sunrise yoga,” Chan says dryly, and Mingyu laughs, reaching for Ruby’s hand, clearly wanting to get inside.

“Okay, then,” Ruby says, her eyes still on you. “See you in the morning then.”

“Bye,” you tell her, and you have to fight the giggle out of your voice. You can’t help it - you feel giddy, nearly bouncing with excitement. You and Chan have been skirting the brink of something all day and you’re finally standing on the cusp of it, toes curled over the edge, ready to dive.

The second you hear the sliding door above you close, Chan’s hand is on your wrist again, pulling much more insistently than he had earlier in the day. Surprised, you let him tug you onto his lap, settling with your thighs bracketing his own, his hands wasting no time in finding your hips and pulling you more firmly against him.

His mouth is on yours, as insistent as his touch. You answer him readily, nearly sighing into his mouth as you get something you’ve wanted for years. You skate your hands up his chest and bring your arms around the back of his neck. He tips his head back a little, his hands sliding up your back, and the change in angle makes you sigh again.

“Thought they’d never leave,” he mutters against your jaw, and you let out a quick huff of a laugh before your breath leaves you entirely as his teeth nip a line down your neck, tongue and lips soothing behind each quick sting.

You chase his mouth, wanting him back, and he groans quietly when he realizes - like you wanting to continue kissing is just as good as actually kissing. But nothing is as good as the kissing, not if anyone asks you, nothing is as good as his tongue against yours, his teeth gentle on your lips, his hands clutching at your back and your arms and your hips like he can’t pick a favorite.

His hands roaming your body ignite you. You become only aware of their migration as they map the width of your shoulders, survey the dip of your waist, skate over your ass, then repeat the expedition. Your fingers have found his hair, curled up and held tight. He takes your hips in his hands and shifts you on his lap, causing you to tug slightly, and his exhale holds just the slightest hint of a whimper. You almost unravel, right there.

The shifted position also makes it absolutely unignorable that Chan is hard beneath you, and you can’t - don’t even try to - stop yourself from pressing yourself closer, your hips rolling almost involuntarily as soon as you feel him. Chan gasps at the sudden friction, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he’s already going under. Then his hands - frozen on your hips while his brain rebooted - come back to life, slipping up your ribs to cup both of your breasts over your bathing suit, giving one slow knead to both in tandem. You moan, low, unable to stop it, and he responds almost instantly, letting out an audibly shuddering breath.

He surges upwards to kiss you again, one thumb still rubbing circles against your hardening nipple, the other hand trailing back down your side and gripping your waist, holding you in place. You continue to move against him, his mouth hot against yours, the water bubbling around you and surrounding you in mist.

Chan’s nimble fingers leave your chest and work their way down between your bodies, pausing at the edge of your bathing suit bottoms. He looks up at you, pupils blown, panting out controlled little breaths like he’s fighting to keep himself in check.

Eyes unwavering on yours, watching your reactions closely, he slips his fingers between your legs, pressing the material against you, sliding down your slit and back deftly. His cock kicks beneath you when you whine. His gaze on you feels charged, almost like a challenge.

And then you’re blinded by a flash, followed almost instantly by an alarming crack of thunder.

“Fuck,” Chan hisses, twisting to peer out towards the ocean, his hands finding your hips again as if by instinct. “The storm.”

“Guess we have to head in,” you say, and it comes out wispy and breathless. Your legs feel like jelly and he’s barely even started.

“Yeah,” he says, the single syllable tight. He adjusts himself as you vacate the water, the rain beyond the safety of the deck seeming to redouble its efforts. You both hurry to turn the jets off and replace the cover, then stand at the edge of the dry space, looking out at the raging rain.

As hot and heavy as things were only a minute ago, you feel oddly still now, staring out at the storm. Chan places your towel over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, looking sideways at him.

“Ready?” he asks you, and you think he means ready to brave the storm. But your heart is answering another question - are you ready to continue, ready to move forward with him, ready to give life to something that has remained only a daydream in your mind?

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.

He slips his hand into yours. “I’ve got you,” he promises.

You move quickly but carefully through the rain, eyes on your feet as you take the slippery wooden stairs up the deck and towards the house. Chan doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re inside, sliding the door shut behind you. The house is dark and quiet, lit only by a single light above the kitchen sink. You both stand near the door and try to dry off, but your towels got soaked by the rain and don’t do much good.

“Come on,” Chan whispers. “There are fresh towels upstairs.”

You follow him through the house, up the stairs and down the darkened hallway. Chan pauses at the linen closet, pulling out two fluffy towels. You lead him into your shared room, closing and locking the door behind you as he clicks on one of the lamps.

Chan comes back into your space quietly, wraps you both in his towel, the spare forgotten on top of your dresser. You’re pressed tight together, warm in his arms. He presses his lips to the top of your head, leaving them resting there, just holding you. The moment is soft, heavy, a stark contrast to the lightning physicality of what happened outside. Something about the intimacy of it makes you feel hesitant.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling away a little to look at you.

“Yeah,” you breathe back. Your heart is racing. But it’s Chan. It’s Chan with his arms around you, and Chan who was kissing you and touching you, and - it all feels like something you aren’t allowed to have. “Just… maybe we shouldn’t?”

“We don’t have to,” he says immediately, shifting backwards and loosening his arms around you, giving you the option of pulling away if you want it. “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with. If you want to just go to bed… or if you want me to take the couch tonight, I can -”

“No,” you say quickly, because that’s the opposite of what you want. “No, it’s just… Chan…”

He seems to hear your uncertainty in your voice, his face softening and his arms pulling you back in. “What is it?” he asks quietly, and you slip your arms around his middle, giving in.

“I think I want this a lot more than you do,” you whisper, glad you don’t have to look at him while you say it.

He laughs, and you step back, looking at him quizzically. You’d been afraid of his reaction - of making him uncomfortable, of pushing the line too far. You hadn’t expected laughter.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he tells you, and you just stare at him, not comprehending. He reaches up, fingers still clutching a corner of the towel wrapped loosely around his back, and brushes a thumb along your jaw. You feel your face warm, but you wait him out. He adds, “I want this… a ridiculous amount. I’ve wondered for a long time if we could… be more.”

He says it like a confession. He says it like he’s embarrassed about it.

“Well,” you say, a fire - a hope - coming back to life behind your ribcage, “maybe we should find out.”

And there it is, that smile that makes the whole world melt away.

The towel drops to the floor, forgotten, and his fingers are at the back of your neck, tugging on the knot that ties your bathing suit top in place. When the material falls away he makes a satisfied noise in his throat as he moves to kiss you again, walking you back towards the bed.

You’d both been eager, but when the mattress hits the backs of your thighs Chan lays you back slowly, almost reverently. He kisses you sweetly, tracing your jaw again, and then lets out another little laugh.

“What?” you breathe, smiling despite being clueless. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing. It’s not,” he says, but he’s still smiling, eyes tracing over your face and body. “It’s just… hard to believe this is real. That it’s you.”

Your breath leaves you. It’s exactly how you’ve felt.

“I know what you mean,” you whisper, and you kiss him again. This time he doesn’t hesitate when his hand slips between your legs, brushing right past your bathing suit and pushing the pads of his fingers into the wet mess he finds there. You shudder an exhale into his waiting mouth as he presses one finger and then a second deep into you, his eyes on you as you arch into the touch.

You let your eyes drift close as he pumps them slowly, and outside the room there’s another flash of lightning chased by the crack of thunder. For a little, there’s only the sound of rain beating against the windows as Chan works little whimpers and half moans out of you.

He switches his angle, something snagging behind your navel, everything beginning to tighten. You gasp his name, and you’re answered by his too-familiar huff of a laugh again.

“What?” you demand through your own smile.

“You say my name like that again and I’m gonna bust,” he tells you seriously. Then he brings his attention back to where his fingers disappear inside you, and his gaze sharpens. “These are in my way,” he murmurs, pulling out of you and reaching for your bathing suit, which had been pushed to the side.

“Yours too, then,” you object playfully, lifting your hips for him as he slides the damp material down your legs. He smiles at you indulgently and shuffles backwards on the back, standing long enough to tug at his swim trunks, letting them drop unceremoniously before crawling back up to you, pressing his mouth to yours and cupping your jaw with one hand, like he’d missed you in the seconds he’d been gone.

“Chan,” you whisper, because you need more of him, because this isn’t enough.

He slides lower down your body, his chest brushing against yours, his lips mapping a path down your sternum, down your belly, pausing near your navel. He looks up at you, all glinty-eyed, that million-dollar smile going slightly sideways, a little mischievous.

“Can I? Please say yes,” he says in a rush, pushing his nose into your lower belly and caressing your inner thighs with his thumbs.

You lean up on your elbows so you can look at him better. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing for a minute. He’s going to give you a cardiac event. “If you want to,” you tell him.

He laughs again, so quiet. “You have no idea,” he says, shaking his head, and then he’s attaching his mouth to you and your arms give out. You eye the ceiling, a strangled moan working up your throat as Chan’s tongue delves into your heat. You squirm, trying to push him deeper. He loops his arms under your legs and then reaches over, his hands pulling you tighter against his chin, both of you working to the same goal.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time imagining how Chan might eat pussy, but you’re surprised that he dives right into fucking you on his tongue, determined and rhythmic. You’d have pegged him for the type to go slow, draw it out, tease and taste and work you up little by little. Instead he grunts in satisfaction, pulls on you hard enough that you wonder if he’ll leave little bruises from his fingertips, and spears his tongue in and out of your hole with abandon, his nose bumping your clit every few thrusts.

You’re a whimpering mess, fighting the urge to roll your hips into his face, one hand slapped over your face to muffle the sound. He shifts, lips working their way up to your desperately pulsating clit, and you feel your whole body seize with the change of sensation, a long, low groan emanating from your chest. He suctions his lips around your clit and sucks gently, then a little less gently, and your feet scrabble against the sheets, trying to find purchase.

His fingers enter you again, his spit and your wetness giving them the perfect slide, and it’s exactly the extra stimulation you need. He only has to pump his wrist twice, that delicious suction steady around your clit, before you’re grasping desperately at him - one hand sliding into his hair and the other finding his wrist and holding tight, which doesn’t stop him at all from pistoning his fingers into that spot on your front wall that has you unraveling faster than you ever have before.

“Fuck, fuck, Chan -” you gasp. Your eyes squeeze shut and your grip on him might actually be painful, a belly-deep ahhhhh ripped from you as the onslaught of sensation sends conscious thought spinning away.

“Shhh,” he soothes, fingers slowly but continuing to work you through it. You whimper, gasp for a breath, the room coming back into view. “Not so loud, baby.”

“God, Chan,” you groan, releasing your hold on him, flexing your fingers.

He grins at you, lightning quick, then kisses the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl.”

You peer at him, boneless. “You up for more?”

He pushes himself up on his elbows, the triumph not completely melted from his face yet. “I’m up for whatever you want,” he promises. “You’re calling the shots here.”

“Excellent,” you joke. You reach towards him, barely stop yourself from making grabby hands. “Come fuck me.”

He damn near scrambles to obey. He comes up to kiss you, deep and heady, and you hook one of your legs behind him, pulling him closer. The head of his cock slides along your slit and you tilt, trying to get him where you want him.

You look up at him, feeling like he hung the stars, and whisper his name. His answer is a bite of a kiss as he pushes himself into you, stopping only when his hips are flush with yours.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he breathes, eyes closed for a second, as he holds himself over you.

“Please move,” you beg, needing more.

“God,” he groans. “Okay. Okay. I got you.”

And he does. Chan fucks like he moves - quick and precise, each motion purposeful. His eyes have narrowed with focus, brows slightly furrowed with exertion as his hips snap. He slides one hand under you to help lift you, the angle changing just slightly.

“Yeah,” you breathe, desperation lacing your voice. “There.”

The drag of him is delicious, and so is the feeling of his body under your hands, and so is the sound of his ragged breath mixed with occasional gasps and groans. It’s the fact that it’s Chan driving you even higher.

A crack of thunder sounds directly overhead, and Chan takes the moment to roll you over, laying back and letting you straddle his lap without even slipping from inside you. You whine as the new position drives him deeper than he’d been before, your hands splayed over his pecs. He’s breathing rapidly now, struggling to keep his eyes open as he continues to fuck you from below.

“I-I’m - so -” he pants, “close. Really close, baby.”

You lean down to kiss him, his arms coming up around your shoulders to pull you chest to chest until his strokes grow sloppy and his hands tighten on you. You kiss along his jaw sweetly until he releases you with a sigh. He kisses you once more before he pulls out, and then again when he returns from the bathroom with a damp cloth.

“I might need to actually shower,” you muse.

“Yeah, okay,” he says easily, nodding. “Maybe I’ll go after you. I smell like chlorine.”

You shrug. “Might as well just join me. If you want.”

He grins. He follows you into the bathroom, waits with you while the water heats up. And then he fucks you again, against the cool tiles of the shower wall.

Later, back in bed, you face each other through the dark.

“I should have said earlier,” you whisper. “But I’ve liked you for a long time, too.”

His smile makes you feel full of sunshine, even when it’s shy, even when he’s asking what you want to do about it. Especially when he’s asking you, "What are you doing next Saturday?"

Tonight, the decision to cuddle is made while you’re awake. When you wake up in the morning, sunlight streaming through the windows, Chan wastes no time in reaching between your legs, finding you ready, and rolling over top of you, pushing between your thighs before he even has his eyes all the way open.

When you both emerge from your bedroom, stomachs growling and with the beginnings of a caffeine headache, your friends are all sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded with the evidence of a breakfast come and gone. They begin a slow clap, eventually lauding you in a mostly sarcastic but still loving round of applause. 

“It’s about time,” Mingyu grouses. “You two have been circling each other forever.”

“Shh,” you tell him, as Chan slips his arm over your shoulders with a grin. “Not so loud.”

thank you for reading!!! <3

[lovingseventeen]

Hiii could you pls write about how seventeen gets their s/o to sit in their lap?? Thanks so much

svt getting their s/o to sit on their lap

a/n: i hope this is sufficient for my very delayed return (please).

seungcheol: 

✿ it's truly just second nature for him at this point

✿ he'll just casually guide you onto his lap and you don't really question it either

✿ say you're about to sit next to him on the couch

✿ as you're about to sit he'll just lightly pull your wrist in his direction and there you are

jeonghan:

✿ loves to rest his head on your shoulder when you sit on his lap

✿ the simplest "come here" and you're following

✿ he loves this because you don't even have to pay attention to him but he has all the access to wrap his arms around your middle

joshua: 

✿ pats his leg when you want to show him something on your phone

✿ "josh look at this thing i just saw-"

✿ immediately, he's sitting up and spreading his legs so you can walk in the space between them and sit on one of his thighs

✿ "let me see, pretty"

jun: 

✿ will gradually shift you onto his lap over time absentmindedly

✿ neither of you two really notice but you just wind up there

✿ you were watching a movie on opposite ends of the couch (which is fine) but now you're there??? (no one is complaining)

hoshi: 

✿ so annoying about it (i mean this in a loving way)

✿ why should you sit anywhere else when his lap is literally right there??

✿ even if you sat somewhere else without thinking about it he's jokingly scoffing "so you hate me"

✿ (it's okay, just go sit on his lap and peck his cheek and he's all giddy again)

wonwoo: 

✿ pulls you towards him by an article of clothing

✿ it could be your pants loop, the sleeve of your hoodie, or the back of your shirt

✿ he doesn't need to ask you twice :')

woozi:

✿ always asks for your opinion when he makes a new beat or writes new lyrics

✿ "i want you to listen to this" he says with a hand stretched out

✿ he likes to have you sit on his lap while he places the headphones around your ears

✿ he gently presses his forehead to your back as he waits for your thoughts

dokyeom: 

✿ perpetually wrapped around you anyway (his love language is physical touch)

✿ it doesn't take long when an arm around your shoulder as you're sitting next to each other moves to your waist

✿ then he figures this isn't close enough and he'll also maneuver you so you're eventually on his lap. he'll quite literally wrap his arms around your middle so he can move you

✿ "this is better" as he nudges his face into your neck

mingyu:

✿ will manhandle you if he has to

✿ you try teasing him just to see him get pouty and as you're trying to get away from him, he uses a little bit more of his strength to pull you towards him

✿ but as you're sat you feel him mumble against your shoulder "do you actually not want to?"

minghao:

✿ i think he's a pretty straightforward person

✿ a simple tucking your hair behind your ears and he's caught your attention

✿ "i want you closer" as he holds your arm to help you move

seungkwan: 

✿ dances around the subject instead of just telling you what he wants lol

✿ "did you know that sitting on wooden chairs is actually bad for your back? there's no cushioning"

✿ "oh really? should we order cushions then or-"

✿ "you could sit somewhere else"

✿ "but i need the table for my laptop and i get so lazy on the couch-"

✿ "then maybe you could just sit here" he offers, moving his chair back to welcome you. then it all clicks (he's a dork)

vernon: 

✿ also probably someone who just tugs you gently in his direction

✿ i don't think he'd need to use words for you to get it either

✿ even if you're standing around him doing anything else and you feel him lightly pull the back of your sweater you follow him without giving it much thought

chan:

✿ as long as you're in his vicinity he pulls you with him as he sits down

✿ both of you just came home from work? he's dropping himself down on the couch and you're coming with him

✿ has most definitely missed at least once and you both landed on the floor

[svtiddiess]

Kiss Quota

Synopsis: You wanted to try the "can’t stop kissing my boyfriend" challenge—but why not add your own little twist?

Pairing: Dino x afab!reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, drabble

Rating: sfw

Word count: 864

Warnings: none!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy anonie!

Thank you @mylovesstuffs and @joonsytip for betaing!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You giggle to yourself as you scroll through yet another TikTok. Lately, your FYP has been overflowing with adorable couple challenges, and you can't help but want to try one out. After browsing for a while, you decide on the "can't stop kissing my boyfriend" challenge—but with your own little twist. Instead of showering him with kisses right away, you plan to tease him by starting with just one kiss a day, gradually building up until he's drowning in them.

Just then, Chan walks into the room. Perfect timing, you think. You quickly hop off the couch and run straight into his arms. He chuckles softly, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

"I missed you," you pout, looking up at him.

"I was just in the other room," he grins, amused.

"But I still missed you," you huff, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

He smiles into the kiss, leaning in for more when you pull away with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"You've hit your kiss quota for the day," you announce with a cheeky grin.

"My kiss quota?" He tilts his head, clearly confused.

You nod, eyes sparkling. "Yup! You're only allowed one kiss for today. No more until tomorrow."

He blinks, processing your words, before letting out a dramatic whine.

"Baby, you can't be serious," he pleads, pouting like a kicked puppy.

"I am," you reply, grinning. "You'll just have to wait for tomorrow."

He stares at you, lips still in a pout, but you only laugh and gently untangle yourself from his arms. Plopping back onto the couch, you resume scrolling through TikTok, purposefully ignoring your sulking boyfriend as he tries (and fails) to win you over.

The next day rolls around, and you almost forget about the challenge—almost. Chan has already kissed you twice: once in the morning as a wake-up kiss and again before he left for work. That means he's already hit his kiss quota for the day.

Later, you hear the front door open, signalling Chan's return. It doesn't take long for him to make his way to the bedroom, where he immediately flops down on top of you.

"Chan!" you squeal, caught off guard.

"I missed you," he grins, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tightly.

"I missed you too, but stop suffocating me!" you laugh, squirming beneath him.

"No~," he teases, leaning in to steal another kiss.

You squeal again and quickly turn your head, dodging his lips.

"Why won't you kiss me?" he pouts.

"Because you've already reached your kiss quota for the day," you say, flashing him a playful grin.

"Are we still doing that?" he whines, his pout deepening.

"Yup! Two kisses today—quota met," you chirp.

"Baby~," he drags out, trying to soften you up with his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Not gonna work," you giggle. "Your puppy eyes can't save you this time."

He lets out a dramatic huff and buries his face in your neck, grumbling in defeat as you laugh at his frustration. You're having way too much fun teasing him.

A few days have passed, and you decide it's finally time to end the teasing—you're going to give Chan all the kisses he’s been craving. But, of course, you're not going to tell him that; you'll surprise him instead.

In the morning, you playfully dodge his kiss, which earns you a symphony of whines and pouts. You giggle as he cups your face and forces a kiss on you, determined not to miss a single one.

Now, he's lying in bed, scrolling through his phone, completely unaware of the ambush you're planning. You quietly slide next to him, and without even thinking, his arm wraps around you.

You place a single kiss on his cheek.

No reaction.

You pout, then give him two more kisses.

Still nothing.

Frustrated, you start peppering his face with kisses, making sure to kiss his lips multiple times. But he stays glued to his screen, completely unfazed.

Annoyed, you pull away—only to be yanked right back, your back pressing against his chest.

"I don't remember telling you to stop," he purrs into your ear. "Keep kissing me."

"Well, you seemed more interested in your phone than me," you huff, turning to glare at him.

He grins. "I had to get you back for that kiss quota somehow."

You pout, stubbornly refusing to give him more kisses. But Chan has other plans. He begins to pepper your face with kisses instead, making you giggle as his lips press against your skin. You squirm, attempting to escape, but his grip is unrelenting.

"Oh no, you're not getting away," he mutters, flipping you over and pinning you beneath him. You squeal as your back hits the mattress, your heart racing wildly.

"You've got a lot of kisses to make up for," he huffs, staring down at you. "Days' worth."

"Better get started, then," you tease, flashing him a grin.

His eyes darken with playful intent, and he smirks before capturing your lips in a kiss that makes your eyes flutter shut. And just like that, it's the first of many kisses to come.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380

[amyzworldds]

Hello, i have a request uhm yn the 14th member is getting hate because of her chaos or something, being compared to other demure idol, and then she heard other members talking about it when she heard it she felt hurt and she thought like really deep thought she's being too much so she just went like normal (not normal her but normal to others yk) she's not loud, chaotic, she laughs but not in her way something like that she's not giving silent treatment but she's not giving normal treatment like that she's slowly trying to grow up like others has been saying and the member didn't like it, not one bit then they realize no one is ready or will ever be ready for her to grow up, thank you 🫶🏻

Title: Weight of Words

Masterlist | Part 2

After a week of relentless online hate branding her a "pick-me" and "immature," Y/N, Seventeen’s wild, beloved maknae, overhears her members suggest she "tone it down" and "act her age," shattering her spirit. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: heavy angst, with lil bit of fluff

It had been a rough week for Y/N, the 14th member of Seventeen and the group’s beloved maknae. Her chaotic, bubbly energy had always been her trademark—a wild, troublemaking spark that lit up every room she entered. She was loud, wild, and sweet all at once, the kind of person who’d strike up a conversation with a stranger or tease her 13 older brothers without a second thought. The boys adored her for it, and fans had long celebrated her for being a breath of fresh air in the polished world of k-pop.

But now, that same personality was being weaponized against her. It started with a clip from a variety show featuring female artists her age—an event Y/N had been thrilled about, a rare chance to hang out with girls instead of being the lone female in a sea of 13 boys. In the video, she was laughing—really laughing, that signature Y/N cackle—while clapping her hands, her whole body shaking with joy as she bantered with another artist. The other girl laughed too, but softer, more restrained. The cameras naturally zoomed in on Y/N, her bold energy standing out against the quieter, shyer demeanor of the others. Fans had always loved her for being natural. Until they didn’t.

Then came the second clip: Y/N playfully teasing a male idol she’d known for years, tossing a cheeky comment his way with that mischievous grin of hers. It was classic Y/N—harmless, friendly chaos. But the internet twisted it. Suddenly, clips of her were everywhere, stitched together with snarky captions: “Pick-me girl.” “Such a flirt.” “She’s too old to act like this.” “Immature.” “Stop flirting, act your age.” The narrative snowballed, and within days, she was trending for all the wrong reasons. People dissected her every move, calling her attention-seeking, saying she should “act her age” instead of being the wild, loud troublemaker she’d always been.

The group had moved on from dorm life. Sold-out concerts, solo gigs, photoshoots, and flights to far-off countries kept them scattered—some in their own places, some crashing with family or each other. Y/N chose solitude, her own quiet space in Seoul, a refuge from their relentless pace. Rest was a luxury now, not like their debut days when they’d pile into one room and bicker over snacks. She missed it sometimes, but this week, alone felt safer—until it didn’t.

She hadn’t told the members about the hate. They were busy—Hoshi with Woozi locked in the studio, Seungcheol juggling leadership and schedules, Jun acting career. When they met, rare as it was, she plastered on a smile, laughing off exhaustion like always. They didn’t ask—she didn’t tell. She figured they hadn’t noticed the storm online, or maybe they were waiting for her to crack first. Either way, she wasn’t ready to spill.

--------------------------------------------------------------

That afternoon, the practice room hummed with restless energy, the 13 boys waiting for Y/N, delayed by traffic. They lounged on the floor, the air thick with unspoken worry. Seungcheol scrolled his phone, brow furrowed, while Jeonghan fidgeted with his sleeve. They’d all seen the hate—Y/N’s name trending for the wrong reasons.

“She’s been quiet,” Joshua said softly, breaking the silence. “Not texting much, no random facetime—anyone else notice?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu nodded, sprawled out. “She’s acting fine when we’re together, but it’s… off. She’s not yelling at us like usual.”

“She’s pretending,” Woozi said, blunt. “The hate’s everywhere—I’ve seen the videos. She’s gotta be feeling it.”

Seungcheol sighed, heavy. “She won’t say anything. Just smiles—I don’t know how to reach her.”

“She’s stubborn,” Hoshi muttered, kicking the floor. “Won’t crack ‘til she’s ready.”

“It’s brutal out there,” Seungkwan cut in, sharp. “They’re tearing her apart—calling her immature, a pick-me. She’s 24, and they’re acting like she’s a disgrace.”

“Fans twist everything,” Wonwoo said, frowning. “She was just being herself—what’s wrong with that?”

“We can’t let it keep going,” Seungcheol said, firm. “She’s drowning, even if she won’t show it.”

“So what do we do?” Minghao asked, glancing around. “Force her to talk?”

“No,” Woozi shook his head. “She’ll shut us down. Maybe she needs to lay low—tone it down, act more her age. You know, feminine, mature—just ‘til it blows over…”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N trudged up to the practice room door, exhaustion weighing her down. Traffic had been a nightmare, and the hate buzzing in her head didn’t help. She was about to push in when voices slipped through the crack—her name, clear and cutting. She froze, ear pressed closer.

“…lay low—tone it down, act more her age,” Woozi’s voice hit her like a slap. “Feminine, mature…”

Her breath caught, heart sinking fast. Act her age? Tone it down? Feminine? The words stabbed deeper than any hate comment, raw and sharp, straight from her brothers—her safe place. Her hands shook, eyes stinging, but she swallowed it down, jaw tight. She wouldn’t cry—not here. She shoved the door open, plastering on a smile that felt like glass.

“Hey, membedeul!” she chirped, too loud, tossing her bag down. “Traffic was hell—sorry I’m late!”

The room jolted, 13 heads snapping up. Seungcheol coughed, sitting straighter. “Y/N-ah, hey! Uh, no problem—glad you made it.”

“Finally!” Hoshi teased, grinning, though his eyes flickered with something unsure. “Thought you’d ditched us.”

She laughed—bright, brittle, forced—waving it off. “Me? Never! Just Seoul being Seoul. Let’s dance—I’m pumped!” She breezed past, dodging their stares, her chest a knot as she grabbed her water bottle.

Practice started, and Y/N threw herself in—steps sharp, spins flawless. She laughed when Mingyu tripped, nodded at Seungkwan’s grumbling, clapped Hoshi’s back like always. But it was a performance, every move masking the ache. Tone it down. Act more her age. Feminine. Their words looped, slicing her open, and every glance from them felt like a spotlight on her flaws. Jeonghan watched her, brow creased, but she turned away, grinning harder.

“Y/N-ah, you okay?” Joshua asked during a break, voice gentle. She was stretching, staring at the floor.

“Perfect!” she lied, flashing teeth. “Just tired—traffic’s a beast.”

He nodded, hesitant, but dropped it. The day stretched—hours of choreo, sweat, and her charade. She bantered with DK, dodged Seungkwan’s jabs, but her laughs were edged, her eyes hollow. Inside, she was unraveling—they think I’m wrong too?—and the silence she held screamed louder than her usual chaos.

By the end, they collapsed on the floor, spent. Y/N sat apart, scrolling her phone, the hate blurring into static. “Good job, guys,” she said, voice flat, standing. “I’m out—see you tomorrow!”

“Y/N-ah, hold on—” Seungcheol started, but she was already moving.

“Night!” she called, waving without looking back, slipping out. The hall swallowed her steps, her smile crashing the second she was alone. She’d heard them—her family—and the sting of tone it down cut deeper than any troll’s words. She’d keep up the act, but it was breaking her, piece by quiet piece.

--------------------------------------------------------------

That night, Y/N lay sprawled on her bed, staring at the ceiling of her quiet apartment. The practice room words echoed—“lay low—tone it down, act more age, feminine, mature”—sharp and unrelenting. Her chest ached, a dull thud of doubt. Maybe they’re right, she thought, fingers tracing patterns in the dark. Her members—her brothers—knew her better than anyone. If they said it, it must be for her good, right? She wasn’t just Y/N anymore; she was Seventeen Y/N, and every misstep dragged their name with her. The hate online, the “pick-me” labels, the “immature” jabs—maybe toning down her wild, loud self would stop it. Maybe she should change. She rolled over, burying her face in her pillow, whispering, “I’ll try… for them.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few days, Y/N shifted. It wasn’t drastic—she couldn’t erase herself—but it was enough. In the practice room, she still talked to the boys, still smiled, but her laugh was softer, restrained, not the cackle that once bounced off the walls. She’d joke, but the edge was gone—no playful shoves, no exaggerated antics. “Hey, Mingyu oppa, don’t trip again,” she’d say with a small grin, not the usual loud tease followed by a slap on his back. The boys noticed—how could they not?—but they didn’t push. Seungcheol’s brow furrowed when her giggles tapered off too fast, Hoshi’s grin faltered when she didn’t match his energy, Jun’s gaze lingered when she sidestepped their usual chaos. She was still Y/N, but… muted, like a song played too quiet.

“Y/N-ah, you’re chill today,” Wonwoo said one afternoon, tossing her a water bottle. “Feeling okay?”

“Yeah!” she chirped, catching it with a tight smile. “Just… pacing myself. Long week.” She sipped, avoiding his eyes, and he nodded, unsure.

“Less wild, huh?” Dino teased, nudging her. “Where’s my partner-in-crime?”

“Retired,” she quipped, smirking faintly, but didn’t leap into his antics like usual. He laughed, but it died quick, unease flickering.

She kept it up—acting “ her age,” feminine, mature, whatever that meant. No loud outbursts, no clinging to her oppas. She told herself it was fine—fans wanted this, the hate would stop, and she wouldn’t taint Seventeen shine. But each forced smile felt heavier, each stifled laugh a knot in her throat.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The Music Bank stage loomed that Friday, their latest comeback performance electric under the lights. They nailed it—crowd roaring, confetti falling—and when the winner was announced, Seventeen name rang out. The trophy gleamed in Seungcheol’s hands as they stayed on stage, waving to fans, the cameras rolling. Normally, this was their playground—goofy poses, Hoshi twirling the mic, Woozi fake-sobbing, Y/N hugging everyone in sight. Tonight, though, she stood still at the back, a polite smile plastered on, hands clasped in front.

Jeonghan, trophy in one hand, turned to her with his usual grin, arms opening for their signature hug—arms around her shoulders, her squeezing back, a staple for carats. “Y/N-ah, c’mere!” he called, voice warm over the cheers.

Her heart jolted. She stepped toward him—then froze. Flirt. Pick-me. Clingy. The hate flashed in her mind, a warning siren. She couldn’t—not in front of cameras, not with the world watching. She pivoted mid-step, a sharp U-turn, dodging his hug to stand at the edge, waving stiffly at the crowd instead. Jeonghan’s arms dropped, his smile faltering for a split second before he recovered, turning to Seungcheol with a laugh.

The 13 boys exchanged glances—quick, subtle, but loaded. Seungcheol’s jaw tightened, Hoshi’s eyes widened, Wonwoo tilted his head, confused. They’d seen her pull back all week, but this? On stage? They masked it fast—posing for the cameras, Seungcheol lifting the trophy high, DK flashing a peace sign—but the air shifted. Something was wrong.

“Y/N-ah, you didn’t hug me!” Jeonghan teased as they shuffled offstage, voice light but eyes searching.

She forced a laugh, shrugging. “Didn’t wanna steal your spotlight, oppa!” She skipped ahead, avoiding his gaze, her chest tight.

Backstage, the boys huddled, voices low. “She dodged me,” Jeonghan muttered, frowning. “That’s not her.”

“She’s been weird all week,” Seungkwan said, sharp. “Quiet—too quiet.”

“She’s toning it down,” Woozi said, realization dawning, his voice heavy.

They watched her across the room, chatting with a staff member, her smile polite but empty. The Y/N they knew—loud, clingy, and being all goofy—was fading, replaced by this careful, muted version. The trophy sat forgotten on a table, their win hollowed by the crack she wouldn’t show.

“We fix this,” Seungcheol said, firm. “She’s not dragging us down—she’s us. She needs to know.”

But Y/N, adjusting her mic pack, kept her distance, the weight of tone it down pressing her into silence. She’d keep pretending—for them, for the fans—until it broke her.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Past midnight, Y/N sat hunched on her bed, the glow of her phone casting shadows on her tear-streaked face. Sleep wouldn’t come—the Music Bank moment replayed in her head, her dodging Jeonghan’s hug a neon sign of her new “mature” self. She’d scrolled to escape, but people threw a fresh wound her way: a clip of that exact avoidance, captioned, “Y/N pretending to be shy—such a flirt deep down.” Comments piled on—“She’s fake,” “Still a pick-me, just hiding it,” “old enough to act mature and still playing games.” Her breath hitched, and the dam broke. Sobs wracked her, loud and messy, echoing in her empty apartment. “I can’t do this,” she choked out, clutching her phone. She’d toned it down—acted her age, feminine, distant—like they wanted, like her members said. But the hate still came, sharper now, accusing her of faking it. What do they want? she thought, tears blurring the screen. I’m trying—I’m trying so hard. Why do they still hate me?

She scrolled more, hate comment after hate comment—“She’s dragging SEVENTEEN down,” “So annoying, just leave”—each one a knife. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t sleep, just cried until her eyes burned and her throat ached. Exhaustion finally pulled her under, phone slipping from her hand, still glowing with venom as she drifted off, tears drying on her cheeks.

Morning came, gray and heavy. Y/N woke to a pounding headache and a hollow chest, the night’s sobs lingering like a bruise. Practice loomed—she couldn’t face them, couldn’t fake it again. Her fingers shook as she texted the choreography director: “Not feeling well today—can’t make practice. Sorry.” She hit send, tossed her phone aside, and curled back into her blankets, the lie her only shield.

--------------------------------------------------------------

In the practice room, the boys gathered, the air thick with unease. They’d barely slept, replaying the Music Bank moment—Y/N’s sharp dodge, her forced smile. It wasn’t just that; the past four days gnawed at them. She hadn’t touched them—no playful shoves, no hugs, no leaning on Seungcheol during breaks. She’d laughed, joked, but it was off, like she’d locked part of herself away.

“She hasn’t been herself,” Joshua said, voice low, stretching on the floor. “Not since… what, Monday?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu nodded, frowning. “She’s talking, but she’s not here. And last night—she didn’t even hug Jeonghan hyung.”

Jeonghan leaned against the mirror, arms crossed. “She U-turned so fast I thought I smelled bad. She’s pulling back—hard.”

“She heard us,” Woozi said, realization sinking in, his tone grim. “That day in practice—‘tone it down, act her age.’ She walked in right after.”

Hoshi groaned, running a hand through his hair. “She didn’t hear the rest—us worrying. She thinks we want her to change.”

“We screwed up,” Seungcheol said, jaw tight. “She’s doing this for us—shutting down—and we let it happen.”

The choreographer strode in, clapping. “Alright, let’s start—where’s Y/N?”

“She’s not here,” Hoshi said, glancing around. “She didn’t text us.”

The choreographer checked his phone. “She’s not feeling well—texted me this morning. Didn’t she tell you?”

The boys froze, eyes meeting in silent alarm. “No,” Seungkwan said, sharp. “She didn’t.”

“She’s dodging us,” Vernon muttered, pulling out his phone. “She’s replied to texts, but no calls—look.” He flashed a dry “Yeah, I’m fine” from her, timestamped an hour ago.

“She never misses practice,” Dino said, voice small. “Not unless it’s bad.”

Seungcheol’s frown deepened. “Something’s wrong—really wrong.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Past midnight, Y/N sat curled on her bed, the dim light of her phone cutting through the dark. She couldn’t sleep—the weight of the week pressed down, her chest tight. She scrolled mindlessly, seeking distraction, but twitter delivered a gut punch: a video of her dodging Jeonghan’s hug at Music Bank, her forced smile frozen on screen. The caption sneered, “Y/N pretending to be shy—still a flirt underneath.” Comments piled on—“So fake,” “Can’t hide her pick-me vibes,” “Old and still a clown.” Her breath hitched, and tears burst free, loud and ragged. “I can’t do this!” she sobbed, voice breaking in the empty room. She’d toned it down—acted mature, feminine, distant—like her members said, like the fans demanded. But it wasn’t enough. “What do they want from me?” she cried, clutching her phone. “I’m doing it right—why do they still hate me? What did I do?!” Practice loomed tomorrow, but she couldn’t face it—couldn’t face them. She scrolled more, hate fueling her tears—“She’s a disgrace,” “Leave Seventeen”—until exhaustion dragged her under, phone slipping from her trembling hands, still glowing with venom as she sobbed herself to sleep.

Morning crept in, gray and cold. Y/N woke to swollen eyes and a hollow ache, the night’s breakdown etched into her face. She couldn’t go to practice—couldn’t fake another smile. Her hands shook as she texted the choreography director: “Not feeling well—can’t make practice today. Sorry.” She tossed her phone aside, burrowing back into her blankets, the lie her flimsy armor.

--------------------------------------------------------------

By 8 p.m., the practice room was quiet, the boys slumped against the walls, practice half-hearted without her. Seungcheol stood, pacing, his silence heavier than usual. “She’s not answering calls,” he said, voice rough. “Texts, yeah, but she’s shutting us out. This isn’t Y/N.”

“She’s hurting,” Jeonghan said, soft but firm. “We let her think we don’t want her—the real her.”

“We can’t leave it like this,” Mingyu said, standing. “She’s our sister—she needs us.”

Seungcheol nodded, decisive. “Enough. We’re going to her place—now.”

“What if she won’t let us in?” Seungkwan asked, worried.

“Then we knock ‘til she does,” Hoshi said, grabbing his jacket. “She’s not doing this alone.”

“She heard us wrong,” Woozi said, guilt lacing his words. “We fix it—tell her she’s not dragging us down. She’s us.”

“She can yell, cry, whatever,” Seungcheol said, pulling on his cap. “No more pretending—not with us.”

They piled into cars, the night dark and heavy, hearts pounding with urgency. Y/N was family—their loud, wild, irreplaceable maknae—and they’d let her slip too far. If she’d misunderstood, if she was breaking under their words and the world’s hate, they’d tear down her walls themselves. They couldn’t lose her—not to this, not to anything.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N sat slumped on her living room floor, surrounded by the chaos of her personality—bright pink throw pillows, a lime-green rug, a shelf of quirky figurines, fairy lights strung across the walls. It was her—loud, colorful, unapologetic. She loved it, but now it felt wrong.

She’d never felt so alone. The hate had chipped away her confidence, leaving a shell where her fire used to burn. “Leave SEVENTEEN—she’s a disgrace,” “Weak link dragging them down”—the comments looped, venomous and relentless. She’d trained for years, fought tooth and nail to debut, and now they wanted her gone? “I can’t leave,” she sobbed, curling tighter. “But I can’t stay like this either.” Solo flashed in her mind—her alone on a stage, no 13 boys, no laughter—but it terrified her. She couldn’t picture it, couldn’t breathe through the panic it sparked.

Her phone trembled in her hand as she opened a message to their manager, tears blurring the screen. “Do I need to leave the group?” she typed, each word a stab. She stared at it, thumb hovering over send, then pressed it, a quiet wail escaping as it delivered. “If that’s what they want…” she murmured, dropping the phone, burying her face in her knees. She didn’t want to leave her house—her safe, colorful cave—didn’t want to face the world until the hate died. But would it ever?

--------------------------------------------------------------

In the practice room, the boys were mid-scramble—jackets on, keys jangling—when the door banged open. Their manager stormed in, phone gripped tight, face pale. “Have you talked to Y/N?” he barked, voice urgent.

Seungcheol froze, mid-step. “No—why? What’s wrong?”

The manager’s eyes flicked to him, tense. “Seungcheol, we need to talk—about Y/N.”

“Talk to all of us!” Hoshi snapped, stepping forward, voice sharp. “What’s going on? Why just him?”

“Yeah, spill it!” Mingyu demanded, towering over the manager. “She’s our sister—what’s happening?”

The manager hesitated, then thrust his phone out, screen glowing with Y/N’s message: “Do I need to leave the group?” The room went dead silent, the words a gut punch. Then chaos erupted.

“What the hell?!” Seungkwan shouted, voice cracking. “Leave the group?!”

“She can’t—” Dino choked, eyes wide. “She wouldn’t—why would she even think that?!”

“She heard us!” Woozi yelled, slamming a fist on the wall, fury and guilt colliding. “She thinks we want her gone!”

Seungcheol snatched the phone, staring at the text, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “This is our fault,” he growled, voice low and lethal. “We let her think she’s a burden—damn it!”

“She’s not leaving!” Hoshi roared, grabbing his keys. “No way—I’ll drag her back myself if I have to!”

“We’re going—now!” Mingyu said, already at the door, eyes blazing. “She’s not doing this—she’s not quitting us!”

Jeonghan’s voice cut through, sharp and trembling. “She’s breaking—alone—and we’re sitting here? Move!”

The manager stepped back, stunned. “She sent it five minutes ago—I came straight here. She’s not answering my calls.”

“She’s not answering ours either!” Seungkwan snapped, shoving his phone in his pocket. “She’s shutting down—we’re done waiting!”

Seungcheol spun to the group, fury radiating. “Get in the cars—now! We’re not losing her—not to hate, not to us, not to anything. She’s ours—our maknae—and we’re fixing this tonight!”

“What do we say?!” Dino asked, voice shaking as he followed. “She’s gonna be a mess!”

“We tell her she’s enough!” Joshua shouted, yanking his jacket on. “Exactly how she is—wild, loud, everything!”

“We beg if we have to,” Mingyu added, voice breaking. “She’s not a disgrace—she’s our strength!”

“She’s not leaving,” Seungcheol said, slamming the door open, voice a vow. “Not over a damn misunderstanding—I’ll burn the internet down before I let her think that!”

They piled into cars, engines roaring, tires screeching as they sped through the night. “She’s family!” Hoshi yelled over the noise, fists clenched. “No one gets to take her—not fans, not us!”

“She’s been fighting alone,” Woozi muttered, guilt choking him. “We end this—now.”

Seungcheol gripped the wheel, eyes hard. “She’s not a weak link—she’s our heart. We make her see that.” The city blurred past, 8 p.m. ticking toward a confrontation they couldn’t lose. Y/N was slipping—cracking under hate and their own careless words—and they’d storm her walls, mad as hell, to pull her back.

--------------------------------------------------------------

an: Hii, anon! I know this is quite late, but I’ll be splitting it into two parts since it’s so longg—I was surprised to see it reached 16 pages! My thoughts just kept flowing, and I hope I’ve captured what you requested. Also, I’ve noticed many of you have been asking for an angsty part featuring the 14th member, so I’ll post that once this is done. Thank you so much for your support—lots of love!

[babyleostuff]

˚ ༘♡ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐬 | performance unit

― for hip hop unit version: click here

jun

he’s a lot more worried about your safety than he lets on. jun starts to panic the second he spots the massive crowd, and immediately puts his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side. he doesn’t want you to think that he’s being controlling or that he doesn’t want you to walk around on your own - it’s just that he’s a bit anxious to let you wander off on your own without anyone to protect you. it’s just the amount of people that he’s afraid of, what the situation might turn into in the worst case scenario. so, it’s safe to say that for the most of the night you’d be tucked safely into jun’s side.

hoshi

my first thought was “he’d lose you in the crowd in a second” but… i don’t think we give him enough credit, he can be very responsible and aware of his surroundings when needed. yes, soonyoung is a silly little goofball and an ipad kid, but i’m 100% sure he wouldn't let go of you if you were surrounded by a large number of people. the thought of you - lost and all alone amongst the big crowd - that makes him sick to his stomach and he can’t even imagine how scared he’d be, so soonyoung would rather keep you by his side than risk losing you. his grip on you is tight and secure, but not too overbearing, and he asks every other minute if you’re okay or if you want to leave. 

the8

he’s not too overbearing in how he looks after you when you’re in big crowds, which is perfect since you can have fun without being all over each other. of course the only way he’s fully relaxed and not on constant alert is when you’re right next to him, preferably with his arm wrapped around your waist, so he knows that you’re truly there by his side, sound and safe. but, if you want to say hi to someone or go to the toilet, hao won’t follow you or make a big deal about you going away, he’ll just ask you to send him texts that you’re ok every few minutes, so he doesn’t stay too worried. 

dino

there’s nothing that could make him let go of you. nothing. maybe chan is being a little bit paranoid, but the thought of losing you in a crowd of people where everything could go wrong makes his stomach lurch in all of the worst ways possible. your hand is always in his, no matter what - if you want to pee he’ll be there with you, it’s either both of you or no one. he’s all wrapped around you, holding you securely in his grip, because that’s the only way he can relax a bit and have fun at whatever gathering you’re at. he has to know that you’re safe. besides, he's a lil clingy cuddle bug so he uses it as an excuse to give you hugs all night long.

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[mejaemin]

6 hours - lee chan

wc: 1.7k

summary: you’re mad at channie, and he’s trying soso hard to get ur attention

warnings: mentions of throwing up (it doesn’t happen, channie is a drama queen okay), fluff, cheol cameo, nothing else rlly!

an: the way i would literally get backshots from a horse if it meant i could get a bf as clingy and desperate as chan

(seungcheol’s pov here!)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

it’s officially been six hours.

six hours since chan upset you, and six hours since you last spoke to him.

it may be petty, but waking up to go eat your leftover slice of cake (unhealthy, but so what?) and finding the container in the sink is not cool. not cool at all. so, being the petty one you are, you’ve essentially left your boyfriend on heard all day.

the morning started off great, waking up in his strong embrace and sharing a few kisses in bed. you even talked about your excitement for the chill day ahead of you, not even wanting to get up to use the bathroom. after he fell back asleep, that was when you decided to get up and finish your cake.

you didn’t even have to open the fridge to notice it was gone. as soon as you entered the kitchen, you saw the container sitting by itself in the sink, staring right at you. chan woke up when you left, leaving to go find you, however he regretted slightly when he saw what you were staring at. you turned to him, looking him up and down as he played with his fingers, guiltily staring at the floor. his expression really was too cute, looking like a sad puppy with his pouty lips, and it tempted you to let him off the hook, but something in you changed your mind. with a heavy sigh, you look him up and down before brushing past him and going back to sleep. he would be getting tortured today.

he’s wordlessly following you the whole time, and you walk with your eyes squeezed shut to avoid his extremely convincing puppy dog eyes. you and him both know that as soon as he gives you that look, you’re forgiving him. however, not this time! you really weren’t all that upset, but giving him the silent treatment for even thirty minutes gets him treating you like you’ll fly away if he doesn’t hold you close. for a whole day? you can only imagine what benefits you’ll reap.

after another few hours, you wake up once again. heading out to the kitchen, deciding that starving yourself is not the best way to spite someone, you go to look for something to eat.

this time, when you walk in the kitchen, the sink is cleared of any dishes. you’re grateful that he at least did that (even if he could’ve bought more cake) instead of.. doing whatever he was doing. likely sulking somewhere. however, as you get closer to the sink, you frown. yes, chan may have washed the dishes, but he left a bunch of crumbs at the bottom of the sink!

you turn around to look at him, and he’s staring right back at you from the living room. he’s looking at you with hopeful, glossy eyes, and before your facial expression can give away that you’ve already forgiven him you turn away. he doesn’t need to know yet. so, instead of scolding him and having him clean it himself like you usually do, you wipe it up yourself.

after finally feeding yourself, choosing not to eat the last of chan’s favorites, you retreat back to your room for another hour or two. he’s left you alone so far, aside from the dozen notifications of him liking your posts across every platform you own. he’s even commented on a few, and to be a little mean you liked one or two without replying. you and him both consider that basically being left on read.

after a few moments of relaxation, including you watching videos on your phone, it ends when your phone breaks out into a shrill ring. seungcheol’s contact photo fills the screen, and you already know what’s coming.

“hello?” his voice comes through the speaker.

“hi, cheol.” your sigh is heavy as you wait for him to finally relay whatever chan’s message is.

“hi. so, don’t shoot the messenger, but chan thinks it’s really important for you to know that, his words, if you don’t talk to him soon he’s going to throw up.” you hear his chuckle come through as he tries to relay the message seriously, but you know he’s already aware of his dramatics.

“oh… well, i hope he knows he can just throw up. because he knows what he did, and he has yet to address it.” you deadpan in a way that’s almost comical, expressing just how much you don’t care.

“well, you said it. trust me, i know damn well what kind of situation you’ve got him in, and i am not meddling. see you.”

“bye, seungcheol, sorry you’ve been caught up in his mess.”

“it’s fine.” he hangs up the phone, and you’re finally left alone again. you’ve made a mental note to tease your boyfriend later about how desperate he is, but for now you think you can hold out a little longer.

after speaking with seungcheol, the “cherry man” as you used to call him, you’re suddenly craving a jar of cherries. not the healthy ones, the ones you put on ice cream. you get up and return to the kitchen, pulling the jar out of the fridge. on the way you see chan, sitting in the exact same position you left him in, hugging a pillow as he stares through the tv. he’s really too cute, and you want to go over there so bad, but you remember how much happier your day would’ve started with your cake and decide he can wait a little longer.

as you go to open the jar of cherries, the lid is stuck. usually, you or chan will leave them a little loose for you to open them better, especially if he’s not there to help you open it. you look up, seeing him turned to you expectantly, and you sigh. you reach into the drawer with all the utensils and oven mitts, reaching for the silicone jar opener you had from before you and chan got together. you haven’t touched it a single time since you started dating, his pride being hurt by the idea of you using anything but him and his strength to open your jars and other containers. you take a fork and begin eating the cherries from the jar, pretending not to see his extremely crushed expression in your peripheral.

after finishing your snack, you return to your room once again, spending more time in solitude. you played music, watched a few episodes of your current drama, and even read a book. you were completely unbothered, and even forgot there was someone else in the house until there was a knock on your bedroom door.

calling him in, the door swings open and chan is standing there. he immediately sits on the foot of the bed, resting a hand over your blanket-covered legs.

“baby i know you’re upset but just please listen to me just this one time.” he looks at you apologetically, and when you don’t make a move to leave he scoots up to the top of the bed next to you and grabs your hand. “i’m really sorry i ate your cake. i just saw it in there by itself and i couldn’t help it.. but i’m really sorry!” he looks to you for a reaction before continuing

you lock your fingers with him. “go on, love.”

“i really hate it when you’re mad at me and i hate it even more when you don’t talk to me.. like i swear, i was gonna start throwing up. and maybe dying. but i bought you a new cake in case it makes it better!” his eyes are so big and glittery, and he’s got a hopeful gaze as he speaks.

you’re now sitting upright, scooting closer to him. “plus interest?”

he nods enthusiastically, getting off the bed and helping you out of the bedroom. “yes! plus interest! i got takeout too! come, i’ve already set it up.”

he leads you out to your dining table which he’s set with your new cake, larger than the size you had previously ordered it in, and your favorite takeout place already plated at yours and his seats. you turn to him, and he’s still got that timid look, gauging your reaction.

it’s then that you break completely, wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him more than enough kisses to make up for the entire day. “oh channie, you’re the sweetest. you didn’t have to do all that.”

he sits you down, then seats himself and pulls his chair so close to yours that your shoulders are touching. “but i did! i tried everything in the world to get your attention and it didn’t work, so i had to do this. and i saw what you ate today.. you know you can’t survive off of a bowl of cereal and cherries.” he rests his head on your shoulder, watching as you indulge in his apology meal.

“well, it was quick and one of the few things i could do by myself. i even opened the cherry jar, did you see?” you kiss the top of his head.

“yeah i did.. after you left i threw that thing out, by the way. because i’m here to do these things for you. and this is why you can’t be away from me! who’s gonna make sure you’re being healthy, huh? ’cause it’s clearly not you.” he sits up, popping his eyebrow while looking you up and down.

taking another bite of your food, you return the look. “don’t get too confident, lee chan, because i can go back to how we were twenty minutes ago.”

immediately he’s cuddling back into you, nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. “please, please don’t do that to me again! i’ll actually cry. actually, i’ll just die. i can see the light just thinking about it.”

you pick his head up off your shoulder, holding his cheek in your hand while giving him a kiss to the other. “okay, you big baby, there’s no need for all that. just eat, okay? and then when we’re done we can make up for lost time, how’s that sound?”

immediately he shoots up, beginning to clear his plate with an alarming speed, eager to spend time with you. you can’t tell, but he’s hoping you mean that in multiple ways because he’s been so deprived of “you time” that he needs to be as close to you as possible. thus, the rest of your day bleeds into night with him spending it crawling under your skin.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[jinmindeulle]

no more distance | lee chan

His arms were finally around you, holding you tight against his body. 

The tulip bouquet that he had gifted you was laying on the floor, waiting for you to pick it up. But you were too busy, one hand at the nape of his neck, the other gripping his black shirt.

When you felt a drop on the crook of your neck, you couldn’t help but close your eyes shut to let your own tears flow. 

“I can’t believe we’re finally together” Chan whispered, and hugged you even tighter, as if that was possible. 

“Me neither” you replied, losing your grip so you could look him in the eye for the first time in two years.

Because everything that you had built had never felt as real as that moment. You texted, yes, you called and FaceTimed multiple times a week, yes — hell, you even sextexted from time to time. But in real life, you had seen each other twice, and you had kissed only once: saying goodbye in the very same airport you were finally meeting again.

“It feels too surreal” he grinned, cupping your cheek and caressing it with his thumb, brushing away a few stray tears.

“And when I tell you this, it might sound even more delusional” 

Two years ago, you had been to South Korea just as a nice vacation on your own. It had been in your bucket list for a very long time, and once you were sure that your finances allowed it, you booked it — and with that click, you had also sealed your destiny.

Because three days before leaving the country, you had met the man who had stolen your heart in Seoul, and had taken it back to Iksan ever since. Lee Chan was seated next to you during the one and only concert you had intended to go to, and well… the rest is history.

“I have plans to move. I got a job in the Iksan branch of the company”

You were not expecting his answer to be a kiss. At first, he just pressed his lips against yours, a little shy. But when you smiled, he took it as his chance to capture your lips with his, hugging them, as if he intended to describe what his I love yous meant with the action. You eagerly accepted his advances and as you felt the need for air, you peppered his now swollen lips and cheeks with small kisses. 

“Don’t leave my side, ever again” 

And you had never wanted to. You had fought to get this job — to finally make the promise real. To spend the rest of your life kissing Lee Chan, in the country that had given you more than you had ever asked for. 

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ seventeen masterlist ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

[cheollvrs]

WARNING 🔞 NSFW AUDIO

🎀 your b-day present for chan was to fulfill his one and only dream, that he could fuck you raw. . .

© CHEOLLVRS

[hoshifighting]

kinda want reader to pound dino post concert with all his make-up smudged into the mattress until he's gasping and whimpering barely keeping his eyes focused with how good it feels.. all his charm reduced to just little "u-huh's" as he falls apart on reader's strap 😵‍💫😵‍💫

pounding dino after concert

WARNINGS: smut, anal (m. receiving), male bottom!chan, fem top!reader, dirty talk, praising, body fluids (cum), prostate stimulation.

chan’s face is flushed, his eyeliner smudged all to hell, black streaks dragging under his eyes and over his cheekbones like he’s a masterpiece halfway ruined. he’s panting, chest rising and falling as you push him face down into the hotel bed. “thought you were tired,” you tease, voice low and syrupy sweet, fingers trailing down his the middle of his back until it reaches his coccyx.

“m’ not—no—ah!”

you laugh, leaning down to nip at the nape of his neck. “that all you got, pretty boy?”

he whimpers, and you could live off that sound. it’s breathy and desperate, like he’s holding onto whatever pride he’s got left, but it’s slipping through his fingers, fast.

when you rock your hips forward, burying your strap deeper, rubbing his prostate, he loses it. his head drops, face pressed into the mattress, muffling the little gasps and moans spilling out of him like he doesn’t know how to keep quiet.

“ah—uh-huh—ah, fuck—” his voice cracks, high and shaky, and you can’t help but grin, biting down on your bottom lip.

“you’re so fucking cute,” you murmur, fingers digging into his hips to pull him back against you. his body trembles under your touch, muscles tensing before relaxing into you, like he’s giving in completely. “my sweet little mess.”

he tries to respond, but all that comes out is a broken whine, his hands clutching at the sheets. his eyeliner’s smeared all over the pillowcase, his lip gloss long gone, but he’s glowing, sweat-slicked and gorgeous.

“you’re so good for me,” you breathe, leaning down to kiss the shell of his ear, nipping lightly before pulling back. “taking so well, baby boy. think you can give me one more? just one more, yeah?”

he nods frantically, though his movements are jerky and uncoordinated. “y-yeah—fuck, yes—please!”

“that’s my boy,” you purr, gripping his hips tighter, already feeling him tense up again as you start to move.

the bed creaks harsh, every slick-slick sound echoes, loud and obscene, and it’s driving you insane how fucking wet and lubbed his hole is.

chan’s cheeks are burning, his head tilted back as he chokes out another whimper, trembling under your grip. your free hand trails up his back, following the curve of his spine before grabbing a fistful of his hair. “does it feel good, baby? having me stretch you open like this?”

he tries to answer, but it’s useless. the words get caught in his throat, and instead, he chokes on his own spit, gasping as his body jolts when you grind the toy deeper. “oh, poor little thing,” you coo, tugging his hair back to force his head up. his glassy eyes meet yours in the mirror at the headboard, his lips parted and trembling, eyeliner smudged so bad it looks like he’s been crying. maybe he has. you press the tip of the toy right against that swollen prostate inside him, rocking your hips in slow, deep circles that make him sob. “there it is,” you breathe, watching the way his body arches, his knee trembling harshly on the matress as he whines. “you feel that, baby? right there? tell me how it feels.”

“s-so good—fuck!”

your hand snakes down to wrap around his cock, slick with his own precum and twitching in your palm. the moment you start stroking him in time with your thrusts, he falls apart.

“oh my god—ah, fuck, fuckfuckfu—” his voice is wrecked, each word tumbling out like it’s dragged from the depths of his soul. his body jerks, overwhelmed by the dual sensations, and you don’t let up, squeezing him.

“such a good boy, aren’t you?”

he nods frantically, but it’s not enough for you. you tug on his hair, making him whimper, and hiss, “use your words, chan.”

“y-yes! yes, i’m—i’m good, i’m so good for you—”

the slick-slick of the lube gets louder, the wet noises mixing with his broken little cries. “you’re close?” you murmur, squeezing his cock in your hand and thumbing over the tip just to watch him squirm.

“y-yeah—so close—please, i—fuck, please—” he bsbbles.

you smirk, dragging your lips down the side of his neck, sucking a mark into his skin. “then be a good boy and come for me, channie.”

it only takes a few more strokes, a few more deep thrusts, and he’s gone, head thrown back as he cries out, his whole body shaking as he spills over your hand. you don’t stop, fucking him through it, drawing out every last tremor until he’s nothing but a panting, boneless mess beneath you.

“such a good baby boy,” you murmur again, kissing the top of his head as he collapses into the mattress, his breath hitching with little aftershocks. your fingers stroke over his damp hair, soothing him as he slowly comes down. “you did so well, baby.”

he doesn’t respond, just hums softly, involuntary, his lips curling into the faintest, most satisfied smile you’ve ever seen.

[seungcheorry]

dino will be damned if he doesn't spend some time with you. his body longs for you just as much as his heart, and he knows he can literally fall down to his knees if he spends another moment away from you.

so when he's back from tour, he makes sure to let you know that you're his for the weekend. no invitations, no phones allowed, just you and him.

dino locks the door as soon as you're both home on friday night. he makes sure to let his family, friends and manager know that he's okay, he'll just be away from his phone for a bit - and then he vanishes for two whole days.

he does because he's too busy pampering you, and i'm talking full spa experience. dino washes your hair, so you wash his too; he tries to get your nails done in a deep blue nail polish he found abroad, but he's a disaster at it - and he pouts as he apologizes.

he does because he's too busy catching up with you, cooking dinner side by side with you as you tell him whatever he has missed while being away. dino remembers that last scene your cousin caused because of that old family beef, but what happened after that? please tell him.

he does because he's too busy napping with you, waking up at 11pm just to eat a snack, and then going back to sleep again. and then-

he does because he's too busy making love to you, his body asking for attention at an ungodly hour, and not letting you sleep till the break of dawn.

but, most importantly, dino does because he loves you. so dearly, so much, so deeply. he could spend the rest of his days locked up with you.

[himewonu]

ROMANCE IS HARD (TO GET) ; lee chan

summary he knows you like him; you know he likes you. all chan wants is to be your boyfriend, how hard can it be？ starring chan x f!reader genre fluff，mutual pining，inspo meant to be mv contains kissing (ugh)，mentions of alcohol，reader is literally just playing hard to get Lmfaoo…. word count 0.4k (lowercase intended)

from rhin, while i was writing this, my sister and i were told to do karaoke and she opened my phone to look for some songs and THE DRAFT OF THIS WAS OPENED and she started reading it😭 minutes later she was like “so who’s chan”….

you and chan escape out of the beachside restaurant. your friends went overboard with the drinks, and you didn’t want either you or chan to be next. you can hear the faint booming noises coming from the restaurant as you roam around the display of surfboards and parked motorcycles.

“what’s up with the random surfboards and bikes?” chan glances around the view, intrigued by the mix.

“apparently a lot of the local surfers and bikers go to this restaurant.” you’ve done your research about the restaurant, and the whole dynamic between the surfers and bikers sounds straight out of a movie.

you lean against a standing surfboard, watching the ocean wave at you from afar. chan stands next to you, and as you turn your head to look at him, his eyes meet yours. they avert to your lips, then back to your eyes.

right when he was about to lean in for a kiss, you turned to look at the surfboard next to you and brought up surfers and bikers. “if you were a local here, would you be a surfer or a biker?” you ask.

“biker,” he answers, still not looking away from you. you leave your spot and move around to keep looking at the surfboards and bikes.

“i’d probably be a surfer, with a lot of biker friends,” you chuckle at the thought of being protected by biker girls. “would you ever want a surfer girlfriend? or a biker girlfriend?”

“surfer girlfriend. unless you change your mind and you want to be a biker, then biker girlfriend.”

you sit down on the sand with your back against the wheel of a motorcycle. chan crouches down next to you, and you two make eye contact again. he tries to lean in for a kiss again, and just when he thinks you are finally accepting it, you move your head to rest on his shoulder.

“you’re so cute and funny, chan. i’d want my biker boyfriend to be like that.”

“i’d want my surfer girlfriend to kiss me back,” he mutters as he pats your head.

“you’re so desperate. take me out on a real date, and we’ll see,” you joke. “i just want to savour this moment for a while.”

“and then we can kiss?” he asks, knowing you’re probably going to say no. you pull away from his shoulder and look at him. the way his sight never leaves yours shows that he’s practically begging to be yours.

“i guess moments like these can be romantic.” you press your lips against his, falling against the sand floor while chan makes sure his lips never leave yours.

finally.

svt masterlist .ᐟ

[lovingseventeen]

Hi 💕💕💕 could you write hcs on how the members make y/n’s heart flutter? Like talking close to their ear…wiping something on the corner of their mouth then licking it off their own finger…standing reaaaaallly close to you at all times 😉 the more feet kicking screaming into my pillow cringe the better! Thank you! 💖💖

svt making your heart flutter

a/n: .... am i still welcome back here LOL. i'm always just apologizing on here whoops. hope this makes up for things. OH! and i saw svt on their svt right here tour in the u.s.! maybe i even met one of y'all and you didn't know it was me hehe. also writing this is making me feel terribly single oh my. ok i tried with this one, i hope yall enjoy.

seungcheol: 

❥ i think about this one going seventeen moment a lot just because i saw someone point it out.

❥ say you're standing on a chair to reach something and he notices you. he just has to approach you and hug you around the waist, resting his chin right around your belly.

❥ he'll probably even give you a little squeeze as you run your hands through his hair.

❥ "hi pretty, what're you looking for?" i'm gonna gnaw on my own fist

jeonghan: 

❥ totally would be the kind to wipe something off the corner of your mouth and lick it off his finger.

❥ he'd do it so casually too, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

❥ he wouldn't even say a word while doing it, just effortlessly reaching over to trace your chin with a finger first before wiping off the icing of your cake off the corner of your lips.

joshua: 

❥ if the two of you are talking on a couch he's resting the arm closer to you on the top of the sofa. not necessarily to put an arm around you but to have easy access to play with your hair.

❥ whether it's tucking a stray hair behind your ear or just to casually run a hand through your hair to soothe you, he likes doing both.

❥ sometimes his hand will linger too, "your hair is getting longer now, huh?" he observes (not as a hint for what you should do with it, he's just pointing it out)

jun: 

❥ leans into you to hear you better, supposedly.

❥ "what was that?"

❥ really, it's just a method to get up close to you. he'll lean in a little closer just to talk to you too.

❥ as he's telling you something close to your ear, you can feel him looking at you, taking in all of your features.

hoshi: 

❥ always makes his presence known to you physically.

❥ it could be a hand on the small of your back, a light grip on your arm as you walk through a crowd, or his arm just around your shoulder.

❥ what really got your heart fluttering was his hand on your thigh though. it's so subtle but it immediately grabs your attention.

❥ during a group dinner, it's a hidden gesture under the table. it's nice to have a physical reminder of him even if you're each having your own separate conversations.

wonwoo: 

❥ the kind to tower over you by leaning on a table, i just know it.

❥ something about him just casually making his presence known has your heart picking up a little.

❥ maybe you're laying out a project you're working on and you're asking him for his opinion.

❥ "wonu, come look at this" "hm?"

❥ he makes his way to genuinely check out what you're preparing, fixing his glasses to rest on his face better too. but as he's observing and resting his hand on the table, his body is still more so facing you, opened to you.

❥ so of course, when he turns his full attention to you, you're already invading each other's personal space.

woozi:

❥ he likes to take care of you in any way that he can and sometimes it comes through in buying something for you.

❥ "you like that sweater? go get it" he'll tell you casually when he notices you lingering on it at the store. "it'll look nice on you."

❥ "let me just try it on first" you reply, him nodding along. when you're checking how it fits in the mirror, he's coming behind you to just lightly smooth out the sweater on your shoulders, hands resting on your biceps.

❥ "see it looks good."

dokyeom: 

❥ definitely not brain rotting from his recent photoshoot

❥ of course you think your boyfriend is attractive, but you also know that he isn't quite the type to wear things that are too revealing or even fitted.

❥ but one chilly day he comes over and your house is warmer than expected. so naturally, he has to take off his sweater and he's wearing one of those fitted thermal shirts underneath.

❥ as he's taking off his sweater his shirt lifts upwards, exposing a toned stomach. But even when he adjusts his shirt back to normal, it still hugs his chest leaving very little to the imagination.

❥ "baby, what're you looking at?" he asks innocently when he catches you staring (maybe you fall in love a little more because he's like this).

mingyu:

❥ had to put in his strength in here sorry not sorry.

❥ when your seat is feeling a little too far from him he'll just change that.

❥ he'll grab the underside of your seat and just pull you closer to him using one arm

minghao:

❥ the eye contact with hao must be insane.

❥ he's a very big believer in listening to you thoroughly.

❥ he's always nodding along as you're talking or humming in agreement, so you know he's actively paying attention. you deserve it.

❥ his gaze is so strong it could almost be intimidating if the way he looked at you wasn't so filled with adoration.

seungkwan:

❥ you know he's a gorgeous singer and how he can belt his heart out.

❥ but in those moments you're just home alone together, you'll catch him humming the sweetest little melody when he thinks no one can hear him.

❥ maybe you wait a second to enter the kitchen and you just take in this little secret performance.

vernon: 

❥ you're both stealing glances at each other while you watch a movie and of course you notice that he's so pretty.

❥ what gets your heart racing every time though, is when he leans in to your ear to tell you something.

❥ he'll lean back away just to see your reaction but you really don't miss how his eyes glance at your lips for a fleeting second.

dino:

❥ something about hearing his full belly laugh for the first time made your heart flutter.

❥ maybe it was the way he was letting loose in front of you. you knew it meant he was comfortable. maybe it's the way you could see his genuine joy so plastered on his face.

❥ maybe it's the way he comes back to you after all the giggles, ready to tune back into you.

[nonranghaes]

"to be honest... i was a little scared of your friend." chan's hand is warm in your own on this chilly night. you forgot your gloves, he forgot his, and so this became the best solution... although you do wonder if he was truly as forgetful as you are or if he did it on purpose to hold your hand. he seems silly like that. "i thought he was going to bite my head off when i ran into you."

you nearly laugh a little. he's not wrong: seungkwan would have probably bitten his head off if he hadn't apologized to you and ultimately ended up taking you out for a cozy dinner. this is your third date together, and you're currently on your way to get dinner after catching a movie together. it was something one of his friends had recommended (vernon, you think? chan mentioned his name once but the name sounds right). he swings your arms a little as you walk, cheeks flushed from the winter air... or maybe it's a little because of you, too.

"he might have." you smile a little when he chuckles, hand squeezing yours a little. "he's protective like that."

"good." he's smiling still, too: a little nervous, a lot enamored. "i mean--i have friends like that, too. jeonghan's very nice, but he's already joked that he and mingyu can rough you up if you break my heart." he pauses for just a second, "at least, he said mingyu could. he just offered to cheer him on."

something about the mental image of his friends having their own shovel talk ready entertains you a little. you only have to wonder how well they'd all get along with seungkwan. "i'll keep that in mind." you decide to be playful, just to lighten the mood, "are you gonna break my heart, channie?"

immediately, his face turns a deeper shade of red as he stammers, all too easy to fluster. "no! no... are you?"

you just squeeze his hand a little tighter. "not when you react like that, you cute dork."

chan watches you for a moment, smiling that same shy smile you want to kiss. "then... i guess we don't have anything to worry about." his thumb drags across the back of your hand. "i think you're cute, too."

(maybe you will kiss him this time, then.)

[scoupsakakitty]

heyy, can you do a Chan x 14thmember where she’s a 97’ liner and he’s always been in love with her but she didn’t want anything romantic with him cause she was afraid of the small age difference.

Idk, he’s kinda jealous that DK is her best friend and when they’re arguing he calls her by her name and she gets angry he’s not using honorifics.with a lot of angst but with a happy ending

♡

Say My Name | idol!Dino x 14thMember | angst, fluff

"Yah, you should've seen your face!" Seokmin wheezed, barely able to stand from laughing so hard.

Y/N groaned, pushing his shoulder. "It wasn't that funny."

"Oh, it was," he countered, wiping at his eyes. "Come on, Chan, back me up!"

Chan sat across the room, arms crossed, jaw tight. He was watching them—always watching them. Seokmin's arm slung around Y/N's shoulder like it belonged there, the way she laughed at everything he said, the way her eyes softened whenever he pulled one of his ridiculous antics.

He hated it.

"Dino?" Seokmin called out, his voice teasing. "Are you sulking again?"

"I'm not sulking," Chan muttered, standing up abruptly. "I just don't find it funny."

Y/N frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Why do you care, Y/N?" he snapped, shocking them both.

The room tensed. Seokmin blinked between them, before muttering, "Uh, I'm just gonna… go." He slipped out, leaving only silence behind.

Y/N sighed. "What’s wrong with you lately? You’re always so tense."

"I should be asking you that," he shot back. "Why do you act like I don’t exist unless Seokmin’s not around?"

She folded her arms. "Don’t be ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? Y/N, do you even realize how long I’ve—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Never mind."

She frowned. "Say it."

"I’ve been in love with you for years!" he finally burst out, his voice breaking with frustration. "And you—you act like it’s impossible! Like I’m a kid to you or something. But I’m not, Y/N."

Silence. Thick. Unmovable.

Her mouth opened, then closed again, hesitation flickering across her face. Chan scoffed, stepping back. "See? There it is. You won’t even acknowledge it."

"Chan, it’s not—"

"Oh, now I’m just Chan? Not 'Dino'? Not 'maknae'?" he interrupted bitterly. "You never say my name like that unless you’re mad."

Her breath hitched, eyes widening. "You didn’t use honorifics."

"So what?" he shot back. "You’re not just my sunbae. You’re Y/N. And I’m Chan. Why do we have to act like there’s some huge gap between us when there isn’t?"

She swallowed hard, looking away. "It’s not just that."

"Then tell me what it is! Because I’ve spent years trying to figure it out, and all you do is push me away!"

"Because I’m scared!" she snapped, her voice finally breaking. "Scared that if we cross this line, everything will change! That it’ll be different and—"

"And what?" he demanded. "You’ll actually have to admit you feel the same way?"

Silence again.

Chan stepped closer, his voice quieter now, but still firm. "I know you do. Maybe it scares you, but you don’t get to pretend like I’m imagining things."

Y/N swallowed hard, eyes darting to the floor.

"I just—" she exhaled shakily. "I didn’t want to lose you."

His shoulders relaxed slightly. "You won’t."

She finally met his gaze, and for the first time, she didn’t look away.

It was terrifying. And exhilarating.

Chan smiled—just a little, just enough. "Say my name, Y/N."

A pause.

Then, soft as a whisper: "Chan."

And just like that, the wall between them crumbled.

He smirked slightly, stepping even closer, his voice low. "You’re mine now."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, but for once, she didn’t run. She just smiled back. "Yeah… I guess I am."

[amyzworldds]

Title: Long Hair, Don’t Care

During Seventeen’s Right Here World Tour, Dino’s decision to grow out his hair—thanks to his girlfriend's endless praise—sparks a fan frenzy. Pairing: Dino x reader Genre: Fluff, humor

The Right Here World Tour had Seventeen dominating stages worldwide, and Dino—your unfairly charming boyfriend—was having a moment. It all started when he decided to skip the haircuts after you’d raved about his longer locks at the tour’s start in Seoul. “It suits you so well,” you’d said, twirling a strand around your finger, and boom—Dino was hooked. No scissors dared come near him after that.

Now, months into the tour, his hair was long—like, poking-his-eyes, flipping-it-back-every-chorus long. You were smitten. Every time he brushed it off his face mid-performance, you’d catch yourself grinning like a total sap. And the fans? They were just as feral. Facebook and tiktok were a battlefield of Dino hype: grainy soundcheck pics, fan cams of him shaking out his bangs, captioned with pure chaos. “If not boyfriend, then why boyfriend shape?” one fan demanded. Another fired off, “If not boyfriend, stop being boyfriendable, I’m on my knees.” Someone even joked, “Dino’s hair is longer than my last relationship—hide the scissors!”

Then there were the conspiracy theories. Fans were dissecting his glow like it was a crime scene. “No way he’s this fine without a girlfriend,” one wrote under a dreamy selca. “That hair, that smile—someone’s loving him right, and it’s not just carats.” Another added, “He’s too boyfriendable to be single. I bet he’s got a secret lover keeping him that shiny.”

You, his very real and very proud girlfriend, were thriving. Your phone was a shrine to this long-haired Dino era—your gallery overflowing with fan-taken soundcheck pics you’d saved from social media. Before your nightly video call ritual, you couldn’t resist texting him a screenshot of your camera roll: rows of Dino mid-hair-flip, looking ethereal. “Babe,” you typed, “I think I need a new phone. My storage’s crying—512GB isn’t enough for all this boyfriend material.”

Minutes later, Dino replied from his hotel room fresh off stage: “You’re ridiculous. How many pics do you even have?!” You smirked, firing back, “Enough to crash my phone. Blame the fans—they’re feeding my obsession.”

When the video call finally connected, there he was—sprawled on his bed, hair a gorgeous mess, still buzzing from the show. “Babe,” you said, smirking at him through the screen as you propped your phone up. “Your fans are wild. My gallery’s a disaster because of you—soundcheck pics are taking over my life. And they’re saying stuff like, ‘If not boyfriend, then why boyfriend shape?’ I’m dying.”

Dino laughed, that bright, heart-melting laugh you lived for, running a hand through his bangs only for them to flop right back. “Boyfriend shape? What am I, a Ken doll?”

“Pretty much,” you teased. “They’re also onto you. They’re like, ‘He’s glowing too much, he’s got a girlfriend for sure.’ They’re sniffing me out!”

He grinned, leaning closer to the camera. “Well, they’re not wrong. I’ve got the best girlfriend hoarding pics of me like a stalker. And didn’t someone beg me to keep the hair long because it ‘suits me so well’?”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “Okay, rude, calling me a stalker when I’m just appreciating art! But yeah, I did say that… and now I’m regretting it because the fans are out here calling you boyfriendable, and I’m over here like, ‘Back off, that’s my boyfriend shape!’”

Dino smirked, tilting his head so his hair fell even more into his eyes. “Oh, now you’re jealous? You were all, ‘Baby, it’s so sexy, never cut it,’ and now I’m too boyfriendable for you?”

“Exactly!” you shot back, giggling. “I’ve created a monster. My phone’s dying, the fans are feral—I might have to sneak into one of your concerts with scissors and chop those bangs off so they stop making edits of you looking like a K-drama lead.”

He clutched his hair protectively. “Don’t you dare! You’re the reason I’m out here looking like a mop with a skincare routine. This is your fault, babe.”

“A mop?!” you cackled. “More like a shiny, boyfriend-shaped mop. They’re right—you’re too pretty to be single. Good thing I’ve got you locked down.”

“Locked down?” he teased, pushing his hair back again. “You’re the one filling your phone with my pics. I’m keeping this mess because you love it and the fans love it. I’m winning for Team Long Hair.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine, you win. But when the tour’s over, I’m braiding it. Maybe slapping a bow on it. Gotta remind them who’s got the real claim.”

Dino chuckled, smiling as he shook his head. “Deal. But I’m only this boyfriendable because of you, you know that, right?”

You softened, smiling back at him. “And I’m only this obsessed because of you, you know that, right?”

“Touché,” he said, blowing you a kiss through the screen. “Love you, stalker.”

“Love you too, boyfriend shape,” you replied, winking.

-----------------------------------------------------------an: please, I can’t get over Dino’s long hair pics from sound check—it’ll be my cause of ☠️😭