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imagine-a-life-like-this · 7 days

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Enemies To Lovers : Chan

Warnings : swearing, sex jokes, reader is pretty rude, Chan calls reader good girl, food

A/N : I'll just warn you now that none of them are really enemies to lovers but I did my best 😭 I also tried to make them all different and not repetitive! So I hope you enjoy regardless 💕

@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @cadenonlinelive @turtledove824 @lakoya @lookitsjess @yukichan67 @xocandyy @alnex05 @qveenbibi @lghtdarling @palinedrome969 @beebee18 @guiltycoco @goddess-of-the-dark

pink means I couldn't tag you 😭

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astralis-ortus · 1 month

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sunday, sunday, sunday

✱ husband!bc × fem!reader

— now, and every sundays to ever come. i want to spend them all with you.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, fluff, fluff. just tooth rotting fluff. warnings → very minor cussing (just once)(atp cussing is a given lol), kissing, time jump (twice), chan referred to as chris a.n → blame the man for putting the idea in my head like what can i do??? his insta post??? hello??? not to mention his song recommendation while i was writing this??? laufey's like the movies??? what??? he wants me dead atp<////3 ⋆ see masterlist

it’s sunday.

to be fair, it has been sunday since the moment chris’ eyes flew open a few hours ago. it’s sunday when he got ready, it’s sunday when he got his light makeup and hair settled, it is sunday when he finally wore the crisp tailored suit that has been turning his heart into the loudest marching band ensemble he’d ever known.

but to be fair,

it’s not just any sunday.

“bring those shoulders down, hyung. you’re gonna get cramps at this point.”

“oh shut up,” chris groaned, feeling more embarrassed about the fact that he got caught more than the fact that his nerves are firing non-stop at an untraceable rate. “just take the pictures, felix.”

albeit rolling his eyes at chris’ rather feisty comment, it was proven impossible to wipe the cheeky grin off the younger’s clearly ecstatic face. after all, it’s a monumental day in chris’ life—and he’s very honored the older trusted his (and technically hyunjin’s) skills to capture the day’s earlier moments.

“see? that’s already all better,” felix cheerily quipped, snapping several pictures as soon as he caught a glimpse of chris fixing his posture. besides, a little movement here and there does make the picture come out a lot more natural, which was the one thing you repeatedly told him (and hyunjin) as something you wanted to see most in the final cuts.

you.

the mere thought of you was enough to melt the remaining stillness present in chris’ face.

it has been a wild few months; meetings after meetings, fittings after fittings, testing, changes in plans, some other minor revisions, checklist, checklist, checklist. chris was justifiably spent, and so were you. there were arguments (you refused to call them fights, knock on wood), there were a couple of shed tears (out of frustration, of course), there were a few hours of leaving each other on read (justifiably so, considering both of you are quite the stubborn pair), but there were also a lot of make-up dates, plenty of exchanged giggles of excitement, and bountiful of prayers for the days to come.

those days have been wild, and this sunday will begin to prove that every second of it was worthwhile.

“chris hyung!”

woken up from his trance, the glint on chris’ eyes finally returned as he found hyunjin’s head peeking from inside the room—the one he’d been waiting on for the past 10 minutes while his head was busy creating bits and pieces for his life montage.

“ready to see your bride?” asked the younger, grin replicating the ones felix is sporting behind his lenses.

am i ready?

palms running over the fabric of his carefully crafted suit, ones you finally chose after debating over a dozen others you deem was ‘not grand enough for someone about to spend the rest of my life with’, chris took one final breath.

“ready.”

it’s sunday.

it’s been exactly a week since your wedding day, and you finally got your hand on the stack of developed pictures courtesy to your now-husband’s talented teammates. originally, you wanted to take part in picking the films, but the duo was pretty convincing when they said waiting for their pick would make a good little surprise to enjoy on your honeymoon trip.

“come on,” chris beckoned, curls framing his beautiful face while his hand motioned to the empty spot next to him on the bed; one you just left after a call from the front desk informing you about the tiny package under your husband’s name. “let’s see how hyunjin did at taking your pictures.”

“and felix at yours,” you added with a grin, swiftly claiming your throne while your fingers were busy ripping open the brown envelope. “i want to see my husband as much as you wanted to see your wife, you know. not to mention, that suit was absolutely perfect on you.”

“not again,” his defeated giggles has been chris’ way to answer to your every compliment on his look since the day of your wedding. “you need to stop that before my head blows up to the size of a hot air balloon, my love.”

“well,” you shrugged, finally getting your hand on the stack of pictures before then snuggling right into the warmth of chris’ arms, “have you ever thought about trying not to be so hot all the da-“

and of course, stealing kisses has also been his alternative should you continue to run your mouth and try to turn him into a blushing mess.

as if that’s not exactly the reason why you kept up with the praises.

“can we start looking at the pictures,” he muttered over your lips, evidently smiling as his lips brushed against yours, “or do i still need to shut you up?”

you hummed, letting the warmth of his skin hover over your face before your lips captured his in a quick peck, “pictures. need to see my cool husband.”

the way his laugh reverberates against his chest never fails to warm you up.

“okay, picture it is then.”

it’s sunday.

you didn’t expect moving to be this hard—sure, you’ve been living together with chris even before you two got married, but had you really been accumulating that many stuffs?

“fuck—i think it’s not the right screw,” your husband’s mutters forces your line of sight to gravitate towards his hunched figure, still hovering over the half-built shelf on the floor of your living room.

“you reckon it should still stick out this much?” he questioned, beckoning you to look at the silver piece, sticking out like a sore thumb. “no, right?”

“think not,” you huffed, crouching next to chris to look at the scattered pieces around him, “was this all? did they send the wrong one?”

chris groaned in defeat, deciding to lean onto your warmth instead of voicing his answer. maybe building your own furniture was not exactly a good idea to spend your first weekend home after your honeymoon trip.

treading your fingers through his soft curls, you then came up with a suggestion, “i’ll get you a pineapple juice then we’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

and it sure perked him right up.

looking at you with sparkles lighting up in his eyes, it felt right—it felt like even through the worst sundays, chris would still be the there to welcome you home.

“thank you,” he grinned—the boyish kind. the one that made you feel like a swarm of butterflies, one that gets you blushing like a schoolgirl in front of her first ever crush. his lips then found its home on the bare of your thigh, printing a quick kiss on the surface, “you’re the best.”

“mm, i know,” you answered with a giggle, feeling the warmth breaking through your skin before returning the kiss on his plump lips while feigning ignorance to the way your heartbeat grew louder by the second.

“you’re still the bestest of the best, though. can’t beat you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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baby-yongbok · 16 days

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𝖣 𝖨 𝖲 𝖯 𝖠 𝖳 𝖢 𝖧

Husband!911 Operator!Bang Chan 𝗑 Afab!Reader

♡ Genre - Angst ♡ Word Count - 1.3k ♡ Summary - Chan has heard a lot of calls being a 911 operator but this is one that he never wanted to experience. ♡ Warnings - Themes of home invasion, Mention of guns [Please read responsibly. This is an emotional fic.] ♡ a/n - I wrote this after watching an episode of S.W.A.T 😭This fic is not proof read.

✧ Masterlist ✧

He hasn’t been on the night shift since your daughter was born. He liked to spend the nights with Nara when she was first born. He liked to come home to her drooling smiles and gleeful giggles after answering calls all day. He never knew what he’d get when he answered the phone. It could be something small like a cat being stuck in a tree but it rarely ever was. He was on a never ending loop of talking people down during one of their most anxious moments. Something that he hoped he would never have to do.

“Ma’am, please try to stay calm. Can you repeat your address please?” Chan was laughing with Changbin, dimples on full display until he heard his co-worker repeat the address she was given. He dropped the water bottle in his hand, immediately turning on his heels and making his way behind her to look at the screen.

“Is there anyone else in the home?” It’s his address on the screen. You on the phone. There’s someone in the house with you and his daughter. Changbin comes up behind Chan, peering at the screen with curious eyes that widen quickly. “Is your daughter with you?”

“Chan.” His friend lays a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to pull him out of his shock but it’s no use. He’s too busy trying to hear your voice over the noisy office. Too busy trying to find out if you’re okay.

“There are officers on the way ma’am just stay put okay?” Chan is tapping his co-worker before he can even process the action. She looks back at him with furrowed brows but her features soften once she realizes who it is. She knows that address, she knows it’s his.

“Give me the headset.” His voice betrays him as it wavers towards the end of the final word but the woman in front of him knew better than to question his request. She hands it over quickly and Chan puts it on with shaky hands. “Ma’am? My name is Chan and I’m going to stay with you through this, okay?”

“Chan?” He can hear the fear in your voice, the timbre shakes like glass windows in a storm and he swears that in that moment he could shatter. “Baby, please tell me it’s you. Please.”

“It’s me. I’m here.” Changbin takes it upon himself to coordinate with the call operator to track the units. He sprints through the office to his desk in hopes that his inquiry will speed up the process. In hopes that it’ll help save you. “Where’s Nara?”

“She’s in her hiding spot.” You mumble through tears, hushed sobs puffing past your trembling lips. “He has a gun, Channie.”

Chan’s eyes squeeze shut, brows furrowed as he tries his best to keep his cool. He wants to run to you, he wants to kill the guy who had the gall to break into his house. He wants to hold you and Nara and tell you that it’ll all be okay. “So do you.”

“His is bigger.” You quip, hopelessness tingeing the corners of your words. “How long until someone gets -” You’re cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps creaking against the hardwood of the main hallway.

“Baby, please talk to me. I need to know that you’re okay.” He’s squeezing the edge of the desk as he waits for you to reply but all he hears are the shallow breaths that you’re desperately trying to hold. “Eta?” He asks over to his co-worker sitting below him.

“Three.” Chan’s eyes scan the screen with the call transcript, he’s staring. Waiting for your words to pop up.

“Is he in the room with you?” His jaw is clenched and his tongue feels heavy with every word but the silence on your end speaks louder than any words that could come out of your mouth. “Baby, listen to me. I need you to stay as still as possible, okay? Don’t move unless you have to.”

You’re quiet, heaving breaths are the only sign that you haven’t been disconnected. The only sign that you’re alive. Chan runs a hand through his hair as his next sentence weighs on the heavy muscle in his mouth. “I love you, okay? I love you and I love Nara with -”

His voice cracks as tears threaten to fall. He breathes them back, standing up straighter and trying his best to not let the damn behind his eyes break. “I love both of you with every ounce of my being. You’re going to be okay, the police are right around the corner but I need you to put down the phone.”

A sob catches in your throat and the heavy boots roaming your bedroom stop for a second. You watch the shadow from under the closet door with wide eyes. “I need you to hold the gun with two hands, just like I taught you okay? I need you to be ready in case -”

He’s interrupted by a sudden thud followed by frantic rustling. “Hello?” He can hear you, he can hear you breathing. He can hear your frantic movements then he can hear your screaming, your struggling.

“Y/n?” He’s panicking, shattering into a million pieces as he listens in on the other line. “Where the fuck are they?” Changbin runs up behind Chan, his hand returns to its earlier spot as he reports what he knows.

“They’re outside, they’re there.” Chan’s gaze falls back to the screen, the green glowing transcript is unmoving on your part. It’s empty apart from the sound of your screaming.

“Baby, I need you to fucking fight.” Tears are falling from his eyes, he’s redder than hot iron and his heart is shaking like a leaf in his chest.

“Chan!” You’re screaming. Screaming his name, begging him for help and he’s not there. Your sobs are loud, rippling through the receiver accompanied by more rustling. He can hear the grunts of the assailant as he fights you but they’re easily drowned out by the sound of police sirens echoing through the air.

“Fight, do you hear me?” He’s practically yelling into the headset. Eyes shut tight as he focuses on every single sound until he hears the one that he was dreading. It echoes louder than any scream he’s ever heard. He’s cold as soon as he registers the gun fire, his eyes fly open as he’s swallowed by the silence on the other line. It’s loud, once again louder than any words could be.

“Y/n?” His mind is running wild. His thoughts are swallowing him whole, wrapping him up in a darkness that he never knew could exist. Who fired that shot? “Baby?” His shaky voice is nearly a whisper, a desperate whisper with a hidden plea that you’ll answer him.

Everything is still around him, time seems to evaporate as he counts the seconds without hearing your voice. Selfishly, he finds himself missing the screams. At least then he was sure that you’re alive, at least then he -

“Channie.” Your trembling voice rings through the receiver and Chan straightens up like a flower towards sunlight. “He’s dead.”

Chan unravels in an instant. Tears run down his blushed cheeks like a free flowing river and the shards of his heart decorating his insides glisten in the hope of being put back together. “I fought for you.” His hands form fists in his hair as Changbin soothes his friend that best that he can.

“You did great, baby.” He chokes out through sobs, trying his best to sound strong for you. Trying to be as strong as you’re being now. He listens as your daughter runs to you with tear stained cheeks and quivering lips that you kiss over and over again as you hold her close to your shaking frame.

“Chan.” You mumble. “Please come home.”

He does his best to collect himself. He wipes his tears and tries to breathe normally. He blinks away the heartache lingering in his stomach and the anger multiplying in his chest. He fights it all away for you. He fights it all away just so you can hear him say this.

“I’m coming to you, right now. I'm coming.”

Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed!

Likes, Reblogs and Comments make my day! Thank you for all support, it keeps me going!

ALSO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse 💕

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3rachasdomesticbanana · 2 months

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Among Strangers | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: A handsome stranger takes it upon himself to take care of you in a crowded subway as you try to evade a man that had been following you after a night of drinking.

•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, stalking, public unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, crowded area, sex with a stranger, biting, possessive chan, brief mentions of bondage and claustrophobia with a surprise ending. (I think that's everything)

an: This was first posted on my Wattpad but it was pretty ass and didn't do well so I fixed it up a little bit (a lot... Like it was so bad lol) and figured maybe it would be better appreciated here.

Part II

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

After a chill hangout at the bar with some friends from work, you all decide to head home. It's been a chill night with not too much drinking. Since you live close by, walking home seems like a good idea for some fresh air. But as you split from the group, you realize you're not alone. You start to get this eerie feeling like you're being followed. Looking over your shoulder you see a hooded figure and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. At every turn there he is, shadowing your every move, sending shivers down your spine.

Nervous about the idea of him following you home, you hop onto the subway thinking you could hide among a sea of people. With the size of the crowd there's no way he could find you. You're confident it'll work as you weave your way through the crowd, tripping over your own feet in a rush to lose him. You aim for the door at the end of the car on the other side just to create some distance between you and him. You steal a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding, checking if the man is still behind you. But in a rush, you accidentally step on someone's foot, sending a jolt of embarrassment through you.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, cheeks reddening. “I'm so sorry.”

When your eyes meet the stranger in front of you, you're met with kind gentle brown eyes belonging to a beautiful man with dimples and perfectly styled hair buzzed slightly on the sides.

“No worries.” He smiles sweetly showing off his perfect dimples while his velvety Australian accent engulfs you and calms down some of the panic in your chest.

Looking over your shoulder again, you catch sight of the man coming into your view. His gaze meets yours, and a smirk plays on his lips before he casually looks away. Panic surges again, your moment of peace gone, sending your heart into overdrive and your eyes to widen in alarm. The handsome stranger in front of you notices your reaction and follows your line of sight to the man in the black hoodie, mirroring your concern.

"Hey, you okay? That guy giving you trouble?" His voice cuts through the chatter of the people around you. His voice, laced with a hint of concern and tinged with something darker, making you snap your attention back to him.

The dim subway lights overhead cast shadows across his young face, highlighting his handsome features more rather than diluting them. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach realizing just how worried for you he is. He glares at the creep and the muscle in his jaw ticks once.

“He’s been following me since I left the bar. I was too afraid to go home so I tried to make a detour to shake him off but he's fucking relentless.” you explain in a quiet hush.

The creep looks over at you again as if to make sure you're still in his eyesight and looks away quickly to not draw attention to his shady acts.

“Maybe he'll back off if he thinks we're together? He looked away pretty quick when he saw me. I'll stay with you for however long you need. Just to be sure that you're safe.” The stranger beside you says sweetly.

You felt fucking lucky to have run into someone willing to help you, to keep you safe. You could've ended up locked in some damp dark basement if not for this man you thought to yourself. You can already feel the mild tipsiness from the alcohol wearing off and you feel more alert and aware of your surroundings.

“Thank you so so much.” You reply and the man holds his hand out for you.

“I'm Chris.” He gives you an award winning smile that lights up his whole face and yours.

You mirror his smile and take his hand. One shake and you gasp at the sudden static shock that you feel spread throughout your whole body rather than just your fingertips. His hand is soft and warm and your body suddenly feels hot all over as if you drank a lot more than you really did.

“Y/N.” You introduce yourself timidly and he gives a small nod of his head.

The train rattles to a stop and opens the doors behind you and Chris, letting on more people eager to get home after work. It becomes increasingly crowded and you're forced even closer to Chris. So much closer that you have to take a couple of steps back in an attempt to have some space, only for your back to hit the glass window of the other doors. Another stop and more people push in, bringing the creep closer to you and forcing Chris's chest to push into yours. He apologizes, placing gentle hands on my arms.

“If you get uncomfortable let me know. I'll try and make space.” He tells you, placing a hand above your head as the train rumbles along.

“Y-yeah okay.” You mutter, feeling the hard muscles underneath the white button up shirt he's wearing.

With the alcohol completely gone from your system now, you realize that the situation you're in is beyond embarrassing. Your breasts are rubbing against his chest with every rock and shake of the train in an almost lewd way. Granted you are thankful that he's keeping you away from being pressed up against some weirdo or worse the guy following you but still, It's awkward. There's no way he can't feel your heart beating so rapidly. The train makes a sudden bump and your bodies are pushed together even more.

“Sorry.” You whisper when your hands instinctively go around his middle. He chuckles and you feel it vibrate through your chest, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter awake.

“It's okay y/n. You give great hugs.” He says, the butterflies go mad and your face grows warm.

He's so sweet and so good looking there's no way he was flirting with me just now. No way, he's just a really sweet guy. Yeah… he's just being nice.

As the train continues to go on you feel eyes on you, burning a hole straight into your skull. Looking around Chris's muscular frame you see the creep, staring, lewdly licking his lips and undressing you with his eyes, no doubt. You squirm to try and get out of eye sight but Chris's strong hand holds you still.

“What's wrong?” He whispers. His voice makes you shiver against him and his fingers tighten on your arms briefly.

“That creep is staring at me.” It makes you feel disgusted. Your skin crawls the way his eyes slide over your face.

Chris curses under his breath and pauses. “I'll push up to give you enough space to turn around so he can't see your face. Maybe once these doors open we can quickly get off and lose him then.”

You nod at his idea and he pushes on the door, putting an inch between you two. It's not a lot of space to move but you try your best, turning around facing away from Chris and the creep. Now, at least like this, your breasts aren't crushed into him. Only now, your ass is pressing against his front. From one awkward situation to another…. This is what I get for going out after work on a Wednesday. You think to yourself. I should've gone straight home or at least changed.

The skirt you decided to wear to the office today is now hitched up just barely covering your ass. If you can just keep still maybe he won't notice and the situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it is.

“So uh what do you do for work y/n?” Chris asks and clears his throat. You can feel every word against your back.

“Uh, I work at CBO. I'm an editor over there.” You feel him nod behind you slowly.

“I heard they're supposed to get a new CEO. Some big shot is what the news is saying.” He responds but you shrug. You haven't heard much about the new CEO except for that he's the son of the previous CEO as well as the new owner now that his father is retiring.

“I'm sure he'll be a great boss. I actually haven't met him yet. I don't even know what he looks like” You utter softly sounding uncertain. Would he be a great boss? Would he take care of you? Who knows he could change everything with just one hand.

══════════════•✦•✦•══════════════

The train enters a tunnel and you watch the lights outside in the darkness flick and zip past in a blur before noticing Chris's reflection. His eyes are on you, studying your face in the glass of the door. Your eyes meet in the all the air gets sucked out of your lungs like a sudden punch to the gut. His gaze is smoldering, far too hot to be on the receiving end of such intensity. No one says a word although his lips slowly form a sexy coquettish smile.

“Do you need me to stay with you when we get off while you call your boyfriend?.” He whispers.

You shake your head no, eyes still on his reflection. “Don't have one of those but I can call a friend to pick me up.”

As you're about to open your mouth again to thank him for the hundredth time, the train comes to a screeching stop and the lights in the car go out. Men and women grumble and some even scream. The force causes Chris to slam into you and your skirt bunches up further about midway up your ass. In a panic you tell him and he curses under his breath.

“I'll try to fix it but I have to touch you, y/n. Is that okay?” Him asking for consent to touch you makes him that much more attractive.

“Yes, please.” You say, just as a voice is heard over the speaker.

“Passengers, please be patient there seems to be some debris on the tracks that is blocking our route. They're already taking care to remove it. We'll be moving on shortly.” The voice is replaced with calming elevator music playing loudly.

That's a smart way to keep everyone calm so that no one panics. Only one panicking right now however is you. The feel of Chris's fingertips against your bare thighs is driving you insane. His touch is hot but you shiver like his fingers are made of ice. Why is it turning me on so much when he's just trying to fix my skirt?. The move is too slow to be legal that's why. His movements feel so sensual.

“Sorry, I'm trying not to draw attention.” He explains as if he can hear your thoughts.

Shit you want to stop him. To say never mind and to leave it as is and pray that the train will be stopping soon to let some people off… but you don't. Instead you hold your breath and squeeze your legs together. Your arousal grows to an unbearable high. It's just a simple touch. Why is it driving you crazy? You aren't inexperienced at your age by any means. You've had lovers before but this man's fingers, they burn wherever he touches.

“The material of your skirt seems to be stuck on my fly.” He says and the urge to crawl into a hole is strong. “I can fix it but I'll have to lower my zipper. Tell me what you're comfortable with y/n.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear.

Loose tendrils of your ponytail flutter around your ear from his breath and you mentally remind yourself to breathe. Would it be selfish to ask him to lower it? What if he's uncomfortable with that? This isn't just about you now.

“I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

He places his palm flat against your thigh comfortingly. “Whatever you decide, I won't be uncomfortable. As long as you're comfortable y/n, then so am I.” The conviction in his voice calms you and you give him a curt nod once.

“Lower it please.” You whisper, your voice sounding small with embarrassment.

His hand moves again from your thigh to your ass and you bite your lip hard. His knuckles graze the bareness and you unexpectedly feel him stir from inside his black slacks. Seems like I'm not the only one turned on by the other. Slowly and agonizingly, he lowers his zipper to not be heard over the piano and violin playing through the speakers.

“There. Are you okay?” You don't feel okay. You feel like you’re on the verge of dying from embarrassment and horniness. You can feel the opening of his pants against you and his growing erection pressing into your ass.

“I'm okay.” You lie. “Thank you Chris.”

Out of habit whenever you're riddled with anxiety, you shift your footing which only makes your ass rub against his erection more. “Shit. I'm sorry, I move around when I'm in an embarrassing situation and this takes the cake for me.”

He chuckles softly. “It's okay. I uh, I can't really control it unfortunately. Not when I've got such a beautiful woman like you in my arms. You make it… difficult to say the least.”

You rest your forehead onto the cold glass feeling the blush take over your whole face and he chuckles again.

“If I knew my evening would be like this I wouldn't have gone to happy hour with my co-workers.” Your sad confession fogs up the glass and you close your eyes.

He places a comforting hand on your hip. You're so packed he can't seem to stand the way he was before. His arms are restricted from raising any further than your hips now.

“It's okay y/n it's not all bad. We got to meet after all.” He says, making you smile.

“That's true. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't run into you.” His hands linger and you get so used to the heat that when he finally does move them away you feel cold and shiver under him. He groans softly, sending something like an electric current to the space between your thighs. That sound… you want to hear it more. Biting your lip you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Y/n…” Chris quietly says, sounding amused. “What are you doing?”

You shake your head feigning innocence. “My feet. It's these heels, I'm sorry.”

Why did I do that? I've seriously lost my mind but why do I want to do it again? The feel of him hard against your ass must be making you certifiably insane. This isn't right. Your better judgment screams at you. It's just your hormones getting out of hand.

When he places both hands on your hips and leans in, you expect for him to call you out on that blatant lie but instead he whispers, “Do it again.” All while slowly playing with the hem of your skirt.

You stifle a silent gasp, jaw dropping in disbelief, yet you obediently follow his instructions moving your hips just slightly. When you do, his left hand grips onto your hip tight and he sighs. His erection, that's fighting itself to stay inside the confines of his briefs, jerks forward against the fabric. Before you can shift again, his right arm wraps around you and his fingers find the wetness of your panties.

“So I'm not the only one fighting temptation I see.” His warm sweet breath fans across your cheek and your body sags a little in his arms when his fingers begin to dance.

Focusing on your breathing is all you can do so you don't faint from his touch. And trying to stay quiet now becomes a struggle the more his fingers move.

“Is this okay y/n?” You can only nod, too afraid of accidentally moaning and embarrassing yourself anymore today. He just chuckles and stops the torturous tango that his fingers were doing. “Use your words baby girl. Tell me if it's okay or not.” he instructs.

“Yes. It's okay, more please.” You hoarsely whisper, voice thick with lust.

Chris doesn't move, doesn't make a sound for what feels like minutes rather than seconds. Afraid that he might not have heard you, you open your mouth to repeat yourself when his fingers slip under the satin of your thong and into your slick folds.

“Good girl.” He says, his voice dripping with sex.

You lay your head back onto his shoulder as he works you just barely over the edge. Long fingers slipping in and out, massaging your thoroughly drenched cunt with ease. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit and everything around you begins to blur. Lust, that primal urge, it ignites like a flame inside you, pulsating with an insatiable hunger that courses through every fiber of your being. You're so close to cumming around Chris's fingers, soaking his hand with your desire. You want to tell him just how close you are but if you let up on the hold your teeth have on your bottom lip you won't be able to control the sounds you'll make.

The lights come on just as you're about to come undone and he quickly removes his fingers just as quickly as he inserted them. The train begins to move again and you squint at the sudden light overhead that blinds you, breathing heavily. Before your eyes can adjust to the light and before your core begins to crave Chris's touch, you feel him fumbling behind you freeing his cock and distracting you from the frustration of your denied orgasm.

“Is there anything I should know?” He inquires, sounding like he's in a business meeting.

You don't need to ask what he's referring to. The real question though is do you really want to do this here, with someone you just met? What if you get caught? You both could get arrested. You could get fired. But there's no room in your mind for logic right now with the thrill and your need to cum clouding you. Fuck it.

“No nothing, I'm good. This is what I want.” You see his reflection smile.

“Good. Now, keep your eyes on me y/n.”

You feel the tip of him, covered in precum pressed firmly on your ass and his hands slide under your navy skirt pushing it up further. He hooks his thumb under the string of your thong and pulls it to the side. Your eyes never leave his face.

“No noise.” He warns, situating himself behind you, lining his cock up just right.

His cock feels thick and hot slipping between your thighs. You're so wet that there's little to no resistance as he pushes further and further until he's fully inside you. You let out a shuddering breath and your eyelids flutter close, feeling his warmth.

“No noise, remember? Look at me y/n. I want to see you when you cum on dick.” He tells you quietly, his voice more quiet than a whisper.

Your eyes fly open and stare at his reflection in awe of how gorgeous and composed he looks. He looks calm, like he's doing nothing other than waiting for his stop but his hands tell you otherwise. You feel it in the way he's gripping you to steal himself and to keep from bucking his hips into you at full force like he wants to. Like you want him to.

Instead he has to go at such an aching delicious slow pace so that the people behind him or next to you both aren't aware of what's going on. Your fingers long to hold onto him, to anything really. You're stuck standing still with your palms flat against the glass in front of you. Your breathing begins to fog the glass but you keep your focus on Chris and notice how his eyes go half lidded.

The brown seems to have gotten darker than the warm milk chocolate from earlier. One of his arms snakes around you and he presses his hand flat on your belly giving him more leverage. When he starts to move just a tad faster your heart rate skyrockets. The fear, adrenaline and lust mixing together creates an intoxicating concoction. Every glance, every touch, becomes charged with an energy that enthralls you. Your pulse echoes in your ears, drowning out all rational thought.

Chris's thrusts are covered up by the rocking of the train as it speeds down the rails. Your orgasm isn't far at this rate. Like a slow burn you feel it building up. A simmering that starts deep within your core, radiating up and outward. You're struggling to stay standing, to stay quiet now.

Your breathing comes out in ragged pants and your knees threaten to buckle the closer he brings you to ecstasy. You aren't the only one struggling, Chris's breathing is just as shaky and primal as yours and you hear him whisper something in another language before he murmurs “Fuck.” Into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. When your walls tighten around him he curses again and his gaze looks wild.

“Why do you feel so good around my cock y/n?” He asks but you don't dare respond. He smirks, grinding himself into you. “You take directions s-so well. So… obedient.” He whispers.

You can hear how he's losing his control. His composure has melted away and he no longer looks calm and collected. He looks like a man high on sex and chasing the release that's within reach.

“Y/n… fuck. Tell me, can I cum inside you? Will you let me fill you? Use your words beautiful.” He nips your neck just below your ear and you tremble.

“Yes. You can,” You bite your lip again to hold back what would've been a loud gasp when the train jerks Chris forward causing his cock to slam into your sensitive cunt. “You can cum inside. I'm so close Chris.”

“Then cum baby. Fucking cream on it y/n. Shit, so good.

Hearing him lose himself like that is your undoing and you're falling apart around him. The air becomes heavy with the heady scent of arousal, thick and intoxicating, swirling around you and Chris like a seductive veil. Each breath is laced with the taste of pleasure. Time seems to stand still as you stare at him. Eyes wide as you breathe through your nose squeezing your lips shut tight desperate to make no sound at all. Your cunt convulses around his cock begging to milk it of every drop.

The aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper. His own orgasm right at the edge. His arm tightens around you, hugging you closer to him. his breath becomes shallow and erratic as he reaches his climax.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whispers and he bites down hard on your neck over your fast pulsating pulse, sucking your flesh to keep himself from telling you how you belong to him now.

He bites you to keep the grunts and praises from tumbling out of his mouth uncontrollably. Because something about you makes him lose control. He doesn't do shit like this. He's careful, always planning and thinking things out. He just doesn't do spontaneity. He didn't plan this, it just happened. You just bulldozed into his life and he can’t get enough. What is it about you that makes him desire this cunt he's currently filling to the brim that he craves to make sore and swollen with his cock until the sun rises? Whatever it is, he's already addicted. He needs you in his own space, tied up nice and pretty like a gift only for him to unwrap. Fuck. He's already thinking of all the positions he'd have you in if you were at his place.

You watch in awe at how intense and irresistible he looks while he spills himself inside of you. His eyes hold so much power over you. You feel the weight of his possessiveness in his unwavering stare and it excites you immensely. You find yourself thinking of asking him to come back to your place where you'd be free to move around, cry his name out without anyone around. You're curious how sex with Chris would be in a more relaxed setting. If this orgasm was intense you can't imagine how it would feel when he isn't holding back.

He slowly pulls out of you, fixing himself as best as he can and then fixes your skirt back in place. He places a sweet kiss to the back of your head, chest still rapidly rising and falling. When you blush he chuckles.

“You're a cutie y/n. After all that, you blush from a kiss. So adorable.” He murmurs and you shift your feet. “If we don't get off soon I'll end up going for another round if you keep that up.”

You giggle and look back at him, “Sorry, I'll behave.” You sweetly say.

“What if I don't want you to?” He says instantly.

You blink at him, your face reflecting shock in the glass, and he chuckles. “To be honest with you y/n, I'd love to see you again if you'd let me.”

“Me? Seriously?” You whisper in disbelief.

“Of course. Preferably somewhere less crowded. I think after today I'll be just a little claustrophobic.”

You laugh and even after what just happened you can't believe how incredible of a guy he is. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you while you laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh y/n?” He whispers and you shake your head. “Why does something as simple as hearing you laugh make me so hard? What have you done to me?”

A shiver of pleasure runs through your body and he exhales quietly.

“I'd fuck you again right now if we weren't about to stop.” He tells you followed by the robotic female voice informing everyone to wait until the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open.

As the subway doors slide open, Chris grabs your hand and pulls you through them, dodging the rush of commuters that are eager to go home. With ease he leads you away from the hooded creep that's desperate to find you, vanishing into the shadows behind a massive pillar. You peek out from behind Chris who scans the area cautiously. When the man doesn't see you he hops back on the train, disappointment evident on his face but relief floods over you. Glad that's over.

"Thank you Chris." you say, sending a quick text to your best friend for a ride. “For saving me I mean.”

"It was my pleasure, y/n." he replies smoothly, grinning at you, his gaze lingering on your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Anytime you need saving, or anything really just give me a shout, yeah?" He hands you a sleek black business card with fancy gold letters.

Maybe you will call him, because you really can't imagine that you'll get the memory of how he felt inside of you out of your mind. Besides, he made it very clear he wanted to see you again and how could you turn a man like Chris down?

After saying goodbye when your bestie arrives, you watch Chris walk away in the side mirror as the car eases into traffic. Glancing at the card in your hand, you see it reads "Chris Bang, CEO and Co-owner of CBO," and you feel a wave of shock and mortification wash over you.

“Who was that hottie?” Your friend asks bobbing her head along to the radio when she stops at a red light.

“My new boss…” You say, still feeling his warm cum still inside of you.

“Also... what the hell happened to your neck?”

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arcanesea · 3 months

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listen

PAIRING: bang chan x reader GENRE: fluff, established relationship WC: 449 WARNINGS: implications of sleep disorder

"Chris, I think I can hear the music layers," you said to your boyfriend one peaceful afternoon. Your pupils moved left and right as if following the sound from the headphones you were wearing, freaking him out.

"Baby, how long did you sleep last night?" he asks, taking off his headphones. He had promised to come over during the weekend, yet, he sat still in front of his laptop, working on something for the last hour. Leaving you to do something by yourself.

You shrug in response, not providing the answer he needs. He sighs. It's not the first time you made that claim and every time, you're only running on 3 hours of sleep.

Not that you're ignorant about the little details, but somehow it fascinates you even more when you're lacking sleep. As if you're taking some drugs and give your imagination a little bit more to work on. Is there any research on this? Well, you were so busy with work that you never bothered looking it up.

"Let's go" Chris plucks the headphones from your ear, taking your hand in his. "You need sleep. Now."

Chris drags you to the bedroom, turning on the air conditioner before closing the blinds. You sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with a strand of thread on the corner of your shirt.

"But I'm not sleepy," you said quietly. You blink twice at Chris. "I haven't seen you all week, and you're working, and I'm working, and we barely get the chance to talk or watch movies or eat together or cuddle..." your voice getting smaller as you list the things you usually do with him.

He immediately melts at the statement, unable to counter it.

"Baby..." he coos. Chris walks over to you, cupping your face in his hands, slightly tilting it upwards. You pout at him, trying not to cry. Another thing that comes out of lack of sleep.

"Let's take a nap first, yeah? Then we can arrange a date." He plants a small kiss on your pouting lips. You nod in response before lying down. As soon as your head hits the pillow, Chris notices your eyes fluttering shut. Smiling to himself, he took his spot next to you after turning off the lamp.

"I want sushi," you request. "I can hear your heartbeat," you said again, breathing steadily to match its rhythm.

With a yawn, you murmured a small I love you.

Your sleep was sealed by a kiss on the top of your head, along with a soft I love you from Chris. After this, he's taking a much-needed day off to spend with you. At least he owes you that.

a/n. i want sushi to break my fast later... also tomorrow is debut anniversary!!!! my second one since i become a stay. it's funny how the time went ((not really, i mostly cried this year but anyways))

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dwaekkilinos · 2 months

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savior complex (pt. 1) | bang chan

summary: Your father had wielded you to become a machine; a weapon. And a machine you would become. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat. He taught you how to protect; specifically how to protect your family. But he never taught you how to survive with other groups, especially when their leader seems to have it out for you.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | strangers/enemies to lovers + zombie apocalypse au, angst, fluff, smut word count: 19.9K chapter summary: you'd always known the end, and it had always known you. you just didn't know the beginning would be waiting for you when your time finally came. warnings/notes: zombie apocalypse au so . . . blood, guts, gore, sad, sad, sad. beware. lots of inspo from every zombie thing i've literally ever seen (twd, tlou, train to busan, etc.), typos probably, parental death, actions of violence and murder, religious TRAUMA, religious undertones, reader does not believe in god but she's deeply influence by it bc of her childhood and it haunts her, reader comes from a small toen and it's not explicitly stated where she's from but hollows are mentioned, hunting, reader wishes for death multiple times, chan goes by chris, no smut in this chapter but there will be in every chapter after, i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything, and enjoy! <3

chapter one: i know the end (and it knows me) ( series masterlist | next → )

Sometimes you felt like a ghost. It happened when the world was so silent that you could almost hear the beat of your unsteady heart pounding in your chest; when everyone else was asleep and you stayed up, eyes watchful and searching for threats. That was when you felt like the lost faces that haunted you.

It hadn't always been this way, at least not until the world ended. Most of the time you tried not to think about it. You tried not to think about much except survival these days.

Because that was smart. Surviving was smart. Anything else was stupid; anything else would get you killed.

Ironic, how you used to fear that very thing. Death. Now it was all you knew.

The apocalypse had come.

You knew how it sounded. Honestly, you didn't believe it when it first happened. You had been too afraid to admit it; too scared that if you did, you could never go back. There was no going back anyway. That was something you wished you had known back then. And as you sat on a log in the middle of those dark woods, overlooking your group who all slept silently while you stayed up, bloody knife in hand, and eyes watching for threats, it was hard to ignore the fact that this was your cruel reality.

Because the reality of it all was: you were living on borrowed time, trying your best to do right by your father and keep your family alive. You'd faltered that night, dotting the line between protection and predation.

And now . . . now you couldn't help but think about the beginning. How you would've never ended up like this if things had been different. But things hadn't been different. Things had happened exactly the way they had, and it'd left you with rot in your bloodstream and hate in your heart.

That was what made you clutch the knife closer, nearly cutting your own flesh. Because things hadn’t been different, but they also hadn’t always been this way. You hadn’t always been like . . . this.

You supposed it was because it was easy to kneel when you were just a girl. It was easy to ignore the ever-present scabs on your knees when you didn’t know any better. It was easy to tear yourself down the middle, pulling stitches from the back of your legs when you knew it’d all be re-sewn by morning. It was easy back then when the world hadn’t died.

From the moment you were brought into the world, barely kicking and silently screaming like it was a sin to voice your pain, you had been taught to be that girl; that easy, complacent girl with not so much as a rotten thought. From the moment you were born, you had been taught the foundation of the Church and its vocation, and it had carved its way into your rotten flesh even when the world was no more.

At age four, you were in the pews, listening to the words of God while creating imaginary friends in the statues. At age seven, communion. Then at age eight, you had begun to become an altar girl, fetching and carrying, ringing the altar bell, bringing up the gifts and the book, among other things—essentially being a servant to God. At age fourteen, confirmation. At fifteen, your mother doused you in holy water before your first date with a boy from school. Sixteen, heartbreak, praying to God and begging for him to help ease it all, only to be left with no response . . . even after all you had done for him.

Seventeen and the stitches down your legs remained undone, the scriptures now more of a question than a statement. Then . . . eighteen, the timer clicked into place, and you felt yourself begin to rot along with the world, forcing you to realize your entire life was just a cycle of kneeling before God, praying, and asking for forgiveness for your sins.

It had been easy to kneel when you were just a girl; when you didn’t know any better. And then it happened.

It.

Armageddon.

The Rapture.

The fucking apocalypse.

It didn’t matter what you called it. Doomsday was still doomsday even dressed up with fancy scriptures and sacred wine.

The apocalypse had come. Humans were deemed horrible creatures by some almighty who you didn't give a fuck to acknowledge. It didn't matter. Someone or something had deemed the human race unworthy.

The apocalypse had come, and you were deemed worthless. You were made to die. It was inevitable.

The apocalypse had come. There was talk that it had begun in the North. But much wasn’t known in your town. Now you realized they tried to keep it a secret. It was a way of controlling everyone, you supposed, but not like it mattered much now.

That was just how things were. Your mother refused to let you and your younger sister watch the news, refused to let you search anything about what was going on in the world, adamant that everything was lies and those lies would cloud your mind. A religious town bordering on a commune that resembled a cult perhaps just a tad too much. You realized all this now, of course, but back then your knees were still covered in scabs from kneeling before a God who would never come. Back then your mother kept you kneeling until the final bell tolled, her hand firmly clutching your shoulder to keep you in place.

You were only eighteen then. And while the outside world was torn apart month by month, its people haunted by death piled upon death, your town continued on as it always had. The whispers of a war that would end the world were just whispers, covered up by scriptures that the local preacher would sight every Sunday morning just after you’d collected the eggs from the chicken coop and put on your best dress like your mother had always taught you.

But it was different for you, even back then. Because while it had been easy to kneel when you were a girl, you had begun to grow. Eighteen then, but you had begun to see the flaws within the Church when you were sixteen. And by eighteen, you knew better.

By eighteen, you could see the sweat beading along the preacher’s forehead. By eighteen, you could hear wavering in your mother’s voice when she proclaimed that this was just a test. That this was meant to happen. That the Bible had always predicted this, and if you remained faithful, then you would be saved . . . spared.

But by eighteen, you knew better.

It took one quiet night and a hammering heart for you to sneak into your father’s study and head straight for this desktop. It took even less time to discover what had become of the world. One. Two. Three clicks and then . . .

You remembered the choking feeling bubbling up your chest as your eyes scanned the news articles. A virus. One so horrible and unforgiving that it could take a healthy vessel, and within twenty-four hours, the body would succumb to death. But, you’d seen stuff like this before, right? You knew there had been plenty of diseases and viruses and they all had cures. They all had to have cures. They had to.

That was just the thing: no matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find any article that explained how this virus came about. It was unknown, deadly, spreading rapidly, and there was no way of telling when it’d reach your town. It was just . . . just . . . (It was the first time you truly felt helpless.)

You remembered staying up with the sun, looking for answers, only to come out empty-handed. And when your father discovered you in his study that morning, you nearly confessed right away, sobbing into his arms. But no shame was brought upon you that day.

Your father had been a good man. He had loved you so. He had loved his family, no matter the consequences or conditions.

This town, your town, was small. It consisted of around only three thousand people give or take, all of which were either Christian, secluded, or . . . your father. In all the years you had been alive, not once had your father stepped into the Church. You never asked. You never worried. Your mother just always told you your father was busy every single time, and you believed her because back then, you’d trusted her with all of you.

As you grew, your suspicions of him did, too, but you remained silent as you always had in life. And it was only until that morning when he wrapped you in his arms and let you cry into his shoulder, did you realize why he never entered the Church, why he never spoke the prayers your mother praised, why neighbors would talk of his name only in hushed conversations.

He didn’t believe.

No, he believed in something just not . . . this sacred word your town so desperately worshipped. And that morning, he told you the truth. From his childhood to how he ended up in a town like this. He told you it all, and then he told you the truth. He told you how your mother was scared (how she always had been) and how one day he hoped with enough trying, she’d see the world for what it was ( . . . she never did). And then he told you about the virus, and everything was so much clearer.

The town had everyone convinced this was some kind of test. There was no virus to them. This was the reaping. The scriptures were true to them. And so every Sunday, you were forced to acknowledge that Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death—the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse had come to earth with the power to destroy humanity.

That was how it had been explained to your town, and all its people believed. A sickness had struck the world, yes, they told that much truth, but they chalked it all up to being some kind of plot point in God’s plan. To top it off, it was said that if the townspeople all repented and did right by his name, then salvation would be given.

That was what was told, and that was what was believed.

You remembered the preacher’s voice even now.

Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, "Come." I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.

— Revelation 6:1–2

That scripture haunted you just as your father’s face did, but back then you hadn’t realized the detriment it would have on you. Back then, you played your part. Back then, you dressed as your mother advised, went to church, and listened, and then, when all was said and done and your mother had gone to her room, you snuck off to accompany your father on his hunts. And during those times, you’d learn the truth.

While the two of you hunkered down, waiting for deer to pass through your side of the woods, he told you about what was going on with the rest of the world. He explained how the CDC had claimed this thing; Pestilence (as your town believed) was some kind of virus, yes, only they wouldn't release the survival rate except for a few things that stated it was deadly, spread rapidly, and anyone could have it, but by the time symptoms had started to kick in, it would be too late.

As the weeks went by, as the more hunting extravaganzas you went on with your father piled up, his news became more worrisome. At first, the virus was contained in the North of the world, but as it took more lives and less information about it was being provided to the public . . . people began to panic. Hysteria spread throughout the world. Cases of this unknown virus peaked, and the government released statement after statement informing the public that face masks would be required to prevent the virus from spreading and travel restrictions would soon be put into place.

Only by that time, it was too late.

Carriers of this unknown virus had already traveled far and near, spreading the disease throughout the world. This so-called Pestilence might have only been given reign to a quarter of the world, but his disease had spread farther than his radius.

And while you had been young, you realized that this virus had only one purpose: to kill. There was no survival rate. No hope.

The world shut down soon after more and more people started dropping like flies, succumbing to the miserable disease that left them with boils and blisters covering their skin. Hospitals became overrun. Schools were wiped out with kids coming home with this deadly virus. Workplaces were abandoned, the people wishing to stay at home with their families, too afraid to step outside without any real knowledge of how this virus worked.

Your town remained oblivious, too, as the region shut down, gates being made so no one could enter or leave. It was safer that way they claimed. All of those who could be saved would be saved and helping those seeking a refuge was against the rules. It all felt like some kind of sick plan if you had anything to say about it.

By the time your father had taught you how to shoot your first deer without you sniffling in fear, Vaccines were finally attempted, but nothing worked; the disease only spread, and more people died.

Then . . . it all just stopped.

But your town continued to spread its lies.

The story remained the same even all these years later. You remembered how while you had learned the virus was supposedly coming to an end, your town still painted the picture of the Horsemen. Tales of Pestilence’s reign still remained.

They went on and on about how he rose from the depths of Hell. Pestilence had come. He, who sat on his white steed, had a bow, a crown that had been gifted to him by his gods had come, and when he had, he went out conquering. And so he did.

Until he was put to rest; until his conquering had come to an end. You listened with half a heart as the preacher went on and on about how his time had ended, yes, but this was not the end. All you had to do was keep praying, keep repenting, keep . . . kneeling, and you’d be saved.

But you knew better.

While others would attend midnight mass in addition to morning, you claimed you had to pray on your own, and when your mother had left with your sister on her hip, you snuck off with your father to learn of the world. You snuck off to better your shooting arm, to seek comfort in the only person who seemed to have their head screwed on right, to shoot ducks and geese and deer and everything in order to keep your town fed while everyone else prayed to a God that wasn’t doing half your work. And yet, every time, every kill, your father knelt beside the animal and prayed, until you had begun to do the same.

You weren’t sure why he did it. You had never asked. You never thought you needed to. (Now you would’ve done anything to know the answer.)

And so . . . life went on like that. Completely cut off from the world without the help of the internet your father provided for the two of you, life went on.

The virus no longer spread further, and many believed it was all just some hoax. News stations came to life again, but not much else was restored. That was how everyone found out the virus had concluded. Hell, even you remember being twenty-one years old, having your first legal shot with your father in the middle of the woods while the two of you watched news reporter after news reporter claim the virus had mutated and mutated so much to the point our bodies had accumulated a natural resistance to it.

But you couldn't believe it.

Three whole years of this deadly disease taking out population upon population, and then it all ceased. It felt almost too good to be true.

Of course, the town believed this too. Pestilence had conquered, and that was just the problem.

Every day, day in and day out, words spread throughout the hollow, the word in the Church mutated each week, even your mother who had spent the last three years praying to Jesus, Joseph, and Mary; your mother who had gone through rosary after rosary begging for God to have mercy on your family; your mother who had always forced you to attend those days at church on Sunday went around the house, boarding up the windows and hiding the special silverware in the basement, claiming that he would come next.

He has conquered, she had hissed over your shoulder when you and your father came back from one of your hunts.

Pestilence's reign had ended (according to your mother, who you were almost certain had a few screws loose). You didn’t believe it for a second, ignoring your mother's desperate ramblings.

War will come, she warned.

War will come.

But . . . you knew if something did come, it wouldn’t be this War.

And then . . . then he did.

The first sighting of the dead coming back was spotted just months after the virus that had plagued millions had ceased. And this time . . . the town allowed its folk to see the reports. Even your mother had brought the television from the basement to witness the dead rise . . . or rather . . . War. The news stations had captured a recording of these . . . people; people who had suffered from the virus coming back, and then with only their teeth, tearing any live thing apart. The recording was aired all across the world, fear, and hysteria spreading like wildfire.

The government was still up and running at this point with only one mission: to shoot down these seemingly reanimated corpses before they could cause more harm. People believed this to be a fluke, but your mother's words had stuck with you.

War will come.

It was all a little hazy now, but you remembered bits and pieces of the world back then. War had been quick, ruthless, and determined.

This was no man. This was War.

And it all became clear soon after.

While Pestilence had been silent, War had wanted an audience.

The things he could do; the people he could hurt . . . it was all so gutting. Those lost to the virus kept coming back, all with one purpose: destruction. With one bite, their victims would soon fall ill to that same virus, and then once it had taken their body, they’d come back, reanimated with the same gruesome purpose.

The government finally fell when the dead could no longer be stopped. Quarantines dropped, people ran, and everything just . . . stopped. These creatures tore through cities, sinking their teeth into civilians. And you watched it all on the television, until that, too fell, leaving the rest of the world in the dark.

That was when you realized just how real all of this was. That was when you realized the past three years of hunting with your father was not just something the two of you would look back on and laugh about one day when this virus was over. No . . . it seemed . . . it seemed you couldn’t quite see the end or maybe . . . maybe you could and that was the problem all along.

Your father, the man he was, tried to remind you that this was not War; that this was not the supposed God’s plan everyone was convinced of in your godforsaken hollow. And you tried to hear him, but for a while, you wished to be like everyone else in the town. You wished you could believe this was some greater plan. You wished you could believe that this was all because of some Horseman . . . but you knew better, and your father seemed to know this as well.

(And yet, when you thought back on it now, the stages in which the world ended still presented themselves as the Horsemen in your troubled mind.)

Because, well, you supposed that was truly when the world had ended—the day War came.

War will come, your mother had warned, and you knew that to be true the day the electricity stopped working. War had come, and he'd taken civilization with him. And while he reigned over the quarter of the world he'd been gifted, the rest of the world lay in the dark, trying to navigate throughout this new world.

From time to time you had heard talk of distant wars. You, however, had never seen one.

But War's ruthless hand still reached your town.

There was no news or contact with the outside world other than the people you could see with your own eyes. No transportation, no government, no nothing. It was said that cars had even been abandoned on highways as people tried to leave town to find their families. But they never got far; not with this newfound order bestowed upon the earth.

Because truly . . . War did not need to come to earth to corrupt it.

The government had fallen, the world had ended, the apocalypse had begun and that was all it took for chaos to ensue. People became their worst selves at the end of the world, you'd been told all your life through media upon media. But you had to disagree. You thought, perhaps, the end of the world brought out who people truly were deep inside. It allowed people to let go of civility.

And you discovered people really were perhaps even worse than this supposed War himself. Or rather a product of War and his righteous hand.

(Although, how righteous could he truly be?)

While War reigned, the rest of the world scavenged. Your family stood stagnant in your childhood home, holding up there for as long as you could. It was still warm when the second wave hit. You knew you'd need to find a different shelter when the time came.

The cold wasn't your only problem either. People were at their worst. When the news broke out in your town, the scriptures they held so dear began to fall apart. A lot left, some stayed, and others turned on each other, leaving houses with bloodstained splatters and a fear of thy neighbor. Your family stayed, however. Your mother read scriptures every day. Your father recited the truth. And they argued, while you sat by the window, terrified out of your mind as you watched the empty streets.

That was when you realized another truth about yourself. You were just about to turn twenty-two, the world had gone to shit, and you had never been so scared. Pestilence. War. Famine. Death. Their names raged on inside your head and it was as if you were still just a young girl, kneeling in church despite the scabs. Except now, you were a girl who could no longer kneel in church, and yet you were still so scared.

It felt cruel. Perhaps even unreal.

The scriptures had predicted this—the four harbingers coming down to scorn the earth. But you hadn't believed it. You were forced to now.

It was War’s reign back then. But Death would come one day. He had come to kill you all; to finish off everything his brothers hadn't touched, and one day he would.

It had been predicted. The words stuck in your head even now.

When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.

— Revelation 6:7–8

Your mother told you long ago of these scriptures. When you were a child, you'd cover your head with your blankets, hiding from the mysteries of the night. Somewhere in your innocent mind, you'd convinced yourself the devil himself would find his way into your room, wrap his bony hand around your ankle, and drag you to the pits of Hell.

Back then you'd feared death. You'd done everything to steer far from its clutches.

She’s afraid of the world, your peers would hiss under their breath, not knowing you'd heard every word. And you knew they were right. You knew you had always been a scared kid, trying your hardest to keep the monsters at bay.

You wished you'd realized there had been no real monsters . . . yet. You would've lived more. Now you knew the consequences.

Now there was no more living, just surviving.

Still, sometimes you found yourself missing it; missing life. It was a bitter thought—what could've been had the world not ended all those years ago.

Back then—before the end—you'd feared death.

How far will this go? you remembered thinking back then when it was still War’s reign. How long until things are normal?

You didn't have the stomach back then to come to terms with the truth. You barely remembered it now.

But you did remember the day everything truly changed for you.

Up until that day, you'd been following your father's orders, huddling up in your home with your mother and little sister as the four of you survived day by day. Then . . . your house had been broken into, the intruder coming in through your window.

Back then you had feared death. You had thought you were going to die.

You'd thought this up until the very last scream ripped through your throat just as your father emerged from the shadows, a look on his face you’d never seen, moments before everything went red. You remembered that to this day. While everything else was blurry, that moment was clear. You could still feel the blood splatter on your face as you watched your father—the man who used to tie your shoes for you before you hopped on the school bus—kill a man before your very eyes, ripping out his jugular with his bare teeth.

Once a girl who could no longer kneel in church, became one painted with the blood from another. And you remembered a small part of you—the part that had once knelt so much her knees had turned to scabs—that this was all War’s fault.

You thought it until you watched the man pale, falling to your childhood bedroom floor with a thud. You remembered how his eyes stayed wide open, locked on you as he gurgled and choked on his blood, bleeding out onto your pink carpet. He didn't blink. Not once. Not even at all. They stayed cold and empty as your father breathed heavily above him.

And then you looked at him.

Your father was a good man. He was kind and just, despite the town. He believed in science and facts. He wanted the truth. But none of that mattered if his family was at stake.

Your father was a good man. He loved you, and he would’ve done anything for you.

Your father was a good man.

Your father had ripped out another man’s jugular in front of you.

Your father was a good man.

Your father had killed someone.

This was the end. You knew it, and it knew you, too.

(It wasn’t talked about, and you never brought it up again. He simply embraced you in a tight hug and kissed your forehead, leaving a smudge of blood from the man in doing so, and whispered apologies that would never sink deeper than your skin.

(Now you wished you would’ve told him you understood. Now you would’ve looked at him and seen an image of yourself staring right back. Now you would’ve hugged him back.))

That was all it took before your father took it upon himself to gather your mother and little sister, put all necessities in the car, and collect enough portable gasoline as he could before the four of you set off down the road. Where you were going was undetermined. There was no knowing . . . because there was nowhere to go.

The world had ended. There was nothing left. You just had to go.

You have to grow up. No more kid stuff, your father said to you that night on the road while your mother and little sister were fast asleep in the back of the car. One day I might not be here to protect you. You have to learn to protect yourself.

And you'd promised him you would. Because you had to. You had been old enough then, after all. You had been twenty-one . . . technically an adult.

(Now, however, you realized you had still been too young. Twenty-one wasn't old enough to face the end of the world.)

But . . . what happens when a scared young girl is forced to grow up too soon? She turns into a machine.

Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.

Your father had borne that burden back then, when you first set off on the road. The car hadn't lasted long. Not that it mattered. The world was a wasteland anyway. Walking from town to town on the vacant streets and highways was nothing new now.

You just have to survive, he kept telling you. Survive long enough to keep them alive.

And you always knew what he meant. He was training you for the day when he would be no more. Because when that day came, you would be the one left in charge. He'd turned you into a machine because that was the world you lived in. You were the oldest. Your sister was barely five years old back then. And your mother . . . your mother who once believed this was all some greater plan, was now convinced that if she prayed hard enough it'd stop Famine from following after his ruthless brother.

It was your job to remember what your father had taught you when Pestilence first came to reign—how to hunt, how to shoot a shotgun, and now . . . how to survive.

And when Famine came; when you caught sight of the words Famine has risen spray painted on a billboard on the side of a highway, reminding you of your sick home. It was then you finally learned how to survive. You didn't realize how hard it would be until a year after Famine's birth, your father had passed because of you (because of a stupid decision that you had made which you still couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge).

Survival became all that you knew after that.

Your father was gone. It was just like he had warned. You were in charge now, and you had one purpose: keep your family alive.

The burden became yours to bear.

This was your purgatory and you'd do well to repent for what you'd done; for the man you'd sent out to die; for the father you'd lost.

Survive, survive, survive. It was all you knew.

And when the final Horseman rose, you knew what you had to do. It didn’t matter if it killed you, you couldn’t let your family die at the hands of one of those . . . creatures.

Death had risen. The entire world was a wasteland filled with undead and wars made by man.

If you crossed paths with one of those creatures and let them lay a finger on your family, your oath to your father would be broken. Death would kill you all.

So you kept going, trying to outrun the inevitable.

Because you had to. For him. For your father. For the ghosts that haunted you.

Your father had wielded you to become a machine. And a machine you would become.

Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.

The routine was ingrained in your brain, going on and on like a mantra. You couldn't escape that. Not that it mattered. Survival mattered. Keeping your group, your sister, your mother, and your family alive mattered. They were all that mattered. You would skip as many meals as your body would let you if it meant they'd stay fed.

Sometimes you found yourself laughing at how naive you had been in the past. At twenty-five now, you were equal parts machine and woman, still oozing blood when wounded despite your protests. You didn't tremble at the sight of blood now. You didn't fear death.

When you were a kid, death was your greatest fear. Now, you envied it. Envied the fact you had to walk the earth; the same earth the dead destroyed. Because you couldn't die. That was the harsh truth: you couldn't die.

You'd feared death for so long and now as you sat awake, keeping watch while your group slept, you yearned for the clutches of death to drag you into nothingness. It was almost laughable.

In a world where people now fought for their lives, trying to outrun the dead, you wished to succumb to death. You knew it was wrong, and you'd never speak it aloud, but you yearned for it. This world was shit. Complete and utter shit, and you wanted to give up. Everything in you wanted to just wait like some brainless sitting duck and let Death or disease or even those wretched beasts you heard groaning in the dead of night have their way with your hollow body.

But you couldn't . . . not when you promised your father you'd protect them. He'd died for you, and it was your duty to keep your family safe. Your duty.

You couldn't die, not when you had to keep them alive.

So you let yourself turn into a machine.

And a ruthless machine you had watched yourself become.

That night had been enough evidence of this. Because that night as you sat on a log, slowly dragging yourself out of the past and into the present, you realized one thing. A bloody knife sat in your hand while you watched over your sleeping group, eyes searching for any sign of the dead, and that was when it dawned on you that you had been right all those years ago—the end of the world brought out who people truly were.

You were a machine. You didn't feel. You couldn't.

Glancing down at the bloody knife in your hand, you realized you hadn't felt anything that night.

That night you'd done something you never thought you would. That night your group was attacked by a man with a gun; a man who wanted to harm; a man who had put his hands on your little sister. She was only eight going on nine, and she was your responsibility, and as soon as his hand clamped down over her shoulder while he held a gun to her head, threatening to pull the trigger unless you gave up all your food, you lost it.

Everything went black. You couldn't see. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even think. You just felt this pure blinding rage.

When you finally regained your sight, you realized what you'd done—you'd killed the man.

No, killed was too vague.

Like the true machine you had become, you had slaughtered him; the bloody knife in your hand was evidence enough of that.

The man was dead, a chunk of his jugular ripped out while he clutched the many stab wounds piercing his stomach. And you . . . you stood above him, eyes wide, bloody knife in hand, and the bitter taste of blood on your tongue.

You'd never killed anyone before. You'd put people out of their misery, but you'd never taken another life like this. You'd never had to.

But you had that night.

And now you paid the consequences.

It had been hours since then. No one had spoken a word since. And your sister . . . your little sister had only looked at you once since then, and you could see the utter terror her round eyes held. Normally she would sleep by your side, but she'd curled up next to your mother that night.

She was afraid of you, and you couldn't blame her. You had once given your father the same look.

So you sat alone on that damned log, bloody knife in hand as you thought back on how you managed to end up in this Hell. Sometimes you felt like a ghost, and now you knew why.

Your brows pinched together. You couldn't help but think: is this what your father had intended?

How much of a machine had he meant for you to become? Were you supposed to clutch onto the part of yourself that was still human? Or had becoming a monster been part of the deal when you'd signed off your soul for machine parts?

You weren't sure. You weren't really sure of anything anymore.

Your sister had looked at you like you were one of the monsters that plagued your earth, slowly destroying it region by region.

Were you no better than the dead to her?

You swallowed hard.

Had you become a monster?

“You did what you had to do,” you heard a deep voice from behind you, perhaps answering your thoughts.

But you didn't jump as you turned to see Felix sit down on the log beside you, exhaustion weaving through his delicate features. You didn't speak a word, just stared at the side of his face for a second before you glanced back down at the bloody knife in your hand.

You did what you had to do.

You nearly laughed. It was just like him to say such things.

You see: Lee Felix had joined your group around the same time Famine took his reign, and ever since then he'd been following you around like your own personal shadow. That was three years ago now. Your father had saved him, offering him to join your family on the road. Perhaps your father had seen something in him. Or maybe he had just saved him simply because that was just who your father was: a hero.

Not that it mattered. You'd taken a liking to Felix, too. He was kind.

Kind had been rare back then. It still was.

And Felix stayed kind.

When your father passed, Felix stuck by you. Your mother had begun to look at you as if you were a stranger, and your little sister still had been too young to understand much. Felix had made life easier.

You'd taught him everything you knew partly because you needed to and partly because you liked being around him as if he were the younger brother you’d never had. Little bird, you called him . . . because you'd taught him everything. You'd taught him how to survive. And sometimes you thought maybe you would've been friends outside of this. If things were different, if you'd met in a world where the apocalypse hadn't happened . . . then you'd like to think you could have met; that your paths would've crossed.

But things weren't different. You weren't even sure if you could let him in entirely. Your friendship would surely put him in some sort of jeopardy. Because, really, it all came down to survival, and you needed him to live. You didn't care what happened to yourself. You just needed to stay alive long enough to make sure they'd all make it.

That still didn't stop the feeling of relief that washed over you as soon as you felt him lean into you, arm touching yours. He was trying to comfort you in the way that he knew, and you couldn't help but lean against him further.

He was still just as kind as the day you'd crossed paths.

But you?

Well . . .

“I ripped his throat out . . . " you heard yourself roughly mutter before you felt the words tumble from your tongue. You lifted a hand to your blood-stained lips and swallowed. “I ripped . . . throat . . . his . . . with my teeth.” You swallowed once again, harder this time as your eyes drifted to your little sister's sleeping figure. She had been so scared. You had done that. You had scared her. “She looks at me like I’m a monster.”

”You’re not."

“Lix."

“You’re not,” he reiterated, his voice as harsh as he could manage (which was not harsh at all) while he clutched your blood-stained hand and took it into his. “You did what you had to do.”

Your eyes flicked down to your hands. But you didn't look at him. You couldn't. You just kept thinking and thinking and seeing that look on your sister's face. And then . . . then you felt yourself say. ”She says all life is precious. She cries when we have to put down a squirrel for Christ’s sake. I should’ve known. I should’ve—”

”She’s just a kid."

“I didn’t have to kill him,” you continued. “There was a point where I could’ve knocked him out. I thought about it. And I still killed him.” Your eyes finally snapped to his then. “I wanted to kill him, Lix.”

A muscle in Felix’s jaw twitched. ”It’s people like him that make me wonder if this world got it all right,” he admitted after a second. “I’m glad he’s dead. I just wish I could’ve been the one to do it.”

Your breath hitched at his words, not because they'd shocked you . . . but rather because you found yourself agreeing. But that wasn't . . . right. Felix was kind. You were not. He was good, and you . . .

”You don’t mean that,” you mumbled, squeezing his hand. “You’re not . . . “

”Not what?” Felix countered, eyes searching yours. “Hmm? Not what?”

You blinked, your throat constricting. ”Too far gone,” you choked out.

His brows twitched, his expression softening. ”Neither are you."

His hand touched your face a second later, his thumb wiping the dried blood from your chin. You weren't a monster in his eyes. You were just his friend. He didn't fear you, but you knew he should've.

But for a second, you let yourself forget this. Instead, you closed your eyes, allowing him to clean your face of the man's spilled blood. And when he was done, your eyes fluttered open just in time to see him try to reach for the knife in your hand, probably to release it from your tight hold.

However, you shifted it out of his grasp. His eyes snapped to yours then, questioning.

You offered a weak smile—something you didn't do often, but would for him. ”Sleep,” you hummed, patting his shoulder. “We need your brute strength in the morning.”

”We need your brain more,” he countered, tapping a finger to your forehead.

”Sleep, little bird."

He rolled those round brown eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

Nevertheless, Felix listened to you. He shifted down onto the ground, resting his head on the log, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes closed. And you watched him until you were sure he was resting soundly. Then, your eyes went back to watching, making sure to keep your promise to your father.

But just as you were sure it was just you and the silence of the night again, you heard Felix’s voice filter through your ears, ”You’re not too far gone."

You swallowed hard but said nothing.

You're not too far gone.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

As if like some sort of phantom, your knees had begun to itch like they used to after mass all those years ago. For the first few days, you tried to ignore it, writing it off as poison ivy or not bathing for a few weeks, but even when you’d scratch, the itch would remain. You came to realize that this wasn’t something you could write off; this wasn’t something that hadn’t been caused by anything other than . . . you.

A few nights ago, you’d killed a man. You’d ripped out his throat with his teeth, and for a second too long, you’d enjoyed it. Now . . . now you wondered just how deep your guilt ran. Now you wondered if given the chance, would you do it again?

But you already knew the answer.

Your knees had begun to itch once again . . .

And you tried to ignore it. Honest, you did, but his screams; how easy it was to bite into his flesh; the bitter taste of metallic blood on your tongue which oddly tasted too similar to honey; the life in his eyes quickly dissipating as you towered over him like a predator to its prey; all of it kept playing in your head over and over again. You couldn’t escape it, not even when night came and you were forced to close your eyes.

His face was always there.

Sometimes you wondered if any of it had actually happened. Sometimes you wondered if none of this was real or if you even were. Sometimes you wondered if this man had been Death; if the tales your town preached had been real and this was your test.

Sometimes you wondered if you had failed.

And you knew you had.

At night, you could hear your mother whispering prayers under her breath, pleading to the heavens that she and her daughter would be spared. And every time, you knew which daughter she meant. Every time you knew she was praying to be spared from you. Every time you knew it was you who she feared the most in this world. And every time you wondered if one day he’d finally answer her prayers.

You couldn’t even blame her, because a few nights ago you’d done the one thing you’d never thought you’d have to do—kill a man. You knew you were some kind of fucked for that alone.

Then, last night, you began to wonder if this was how your father had felt. You began to wonder if this was why he was dead and not you. You wondered if he’d done it to save you, and to put himself out of his own misery.

And then you began to pray, too. You’d stopped believing in God years ago, but it was an old habit that you sometimes indulged in for some sick kind of comfort. And this time, in the dead of night, you’d shut your eyes and beg for your father’s ghost to return to you. You begged for just one more minute. One more minute and he could tell you how to deal with this; how to survive this, too, just as he had taught you how to endure everything else.

But no ghost ever came, only the perpetual darkness galloped in, consuming you whole.

Your father was gone, and it was all your fault. Guilt was your ghost, not him.

He would still be here if you hadn't—

"Mom thinks you've been possessed by the devil," your little sister's voice brought you out of your mind.

You blinked once. Then, you glanced down at her, taking note of her skeptical eyes and furrowed brows. It was almost as if she were inspecting your face, trying to decipher if you, her older sister, really were possessed as your mother had claimed.

It had been the first time your sister had spoken to you in the past week. The four of you had been walking through the woods, steering clear of the main roads ever since you’d come into contact with that man—the man whose blood you could still taste on your tongue.

She’d taken to walking hand-in-hand with your mother, just a few feet behind you and Felix as the two of you led the way into the unknown. You didn’t know where you were going. You never did. That was the thing about the end of the world—the only thing that mattered was surviving day by day. There was no end-point.

But today while you led the group through the woods, eyes searching for any rodents or small animals to capture for food, your head stuck in the past, your sister had taken the chance to walk into step with you. And those . . . those had been her choice of words.

Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.

And now with the world a ghost of itself, you thought perhaps maybe your mother could be right. You’d changed. The world had changed you. The old taste of blood on your tongue was evidence enough of that.

You’d killed a man. You’d ripped out a chunk of his jugular with your teeth and plunged the very knife in your belt into his flesh over and over again until you were sure he couldn’t do more harm.

Kill or be killed, sure, but . . .

. . . You’d still killed a man.

You’d actually taken a life.

(You weren’t expecting it to haunt you this much. But it had. You could still see his face, hear his voice, smell him, feel him. He was still very much alive in your mind, haunting you like a ghost.

It didn’t matter if he was more monster than man . . . you had still killed him. You had still taken a life without a second thought. His evils didn’t matter . . . guilt still seeped in.)

Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.

And maybe you had been.

That would’ve been easier to fathom.

But instead of voicing these thoughts aloud, you adjusted your backpack on your shoulders, touched a finger to the knife tucked into your belt to make sure it was still there and tightened your grip on your father’s shotgun in your hand before you finally spoke.

"Mom's off her meds," was all you offered. It was all you could say. And it hadn’t been what your sister was searching for.

Your sister stepped back, allowing you to walk alone. You knew you were losing her. You knew she barely trusted you now just as your mother stopped considering you a daughter.

And you couldn’t blame them.

The end of the world brought out who people truly were, and you were someone not worth saving.

The sun had begun to set when you finally declared you’d be stopping for the night. It wasn’t a solid resting place, which meant another night of no sleep on your part, but that didn’t bother you much anymore. All that mattered was there were no signs of the dead, no low groans in the distance, no immediate danger, and the small creek running just a few meters from your camp would provide just enough for you to wet your face and clean any dried blood from your skin. That was what mattered—a temporary sanctuary.

Felix had taken to accompanying your little sister to the creek, while your mother gathered small twigs and broken branches to add to the fire you had just started. But your eyes never stopped watching your little sister, keeping an eye on her to ensure no danger would reach her or Felix while you were occupied.

That was your only concern. Your second was food. There had to be some crawfish lingering in the creek that you could fry up. That was your second concern right after the fire was steady enough to last until nightfall.

With a soft sigh, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from your sister’s smiling face. You tried to ignore how she smiled at Felix while he splashed water at her. You tried to ignore the soft laughter you could still hear as you stabbed at the fire with a branch. You tried to ignore the thought that she’d never look at you like that; never laugh like that with you; never trust you like that again.

You tried to ignore how you had become more of a loose end your family needed to tie off, than a daughter or an older sister.

But you couldn’t. The thought was always there. There it would remain, you were sure of it.

Clenching your jaw, you added the branch in your hand to the fire, watching it crackle under the embers. And for a moment, you wondered what it would feel like if you were to reach forward and let the flames lick your fingertips.

Had he felt like this, too?

Had your father had these thoughts before he died for you?

Did he ever wonder if—

“You’re just like him, you know?” your mother nearly whispered, tearing you from your mind as she set down the pile of branches she had collected.

You glanced at her once, then glared into the fire. “Is that supposed to hurt me?”

She shook her head only once. “It should scare you,” she clarified, standing to her feet so she could tower over you once again. “God’s plan—”

“God’s plan?” you immediately spat out with a humorous scoff, now standing to your feet as well. You were taller than her now, unlike when you were a kid; unlike when you used to do everything she told you; unlike when she still considered you her daughter. “What does God’s plan have to do with my father?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “He has protected us this far. He couldn’t save your father. I’m worried if you continue down this path, he won’t be able to save you either,” she muttered back as she clutched the cross around her neck as if she thought it would ward you off like you had become one of the evils she’d warn you about when you were just a girl.

But you were no longer small; you were no longer moldable by her hand, and now, you were only made of anger. “You think God’s the reason we’re alive?” you questioned her, eyes narrowing into slits.

Your mother remained silent but clutched her cross harder. And you knew what that meant.

Your eyes flicked from her hand to her face. Then, you took a step forward, chin jutted out. “Is it God who kills so we can eat? Is it God who got us here, to this point? Is it God who holds dad’s gun?” you bit out as you touched a hand to your chest. “God doesn’t have a fucking plan.” You drilled a finger into your chest, your angry eyes never leaving hers. “I do. And God couldn’t save dad because it was supposed to be—”

But your words halted in your throat. You couldn’t admit it to her. You couldn’t tell her you were the reason behind your father’s death. It didn’t matter if she already knew. You just . . . you just couldn’t admit it to her face.

“God doesn't fucking exist,” you muttered out instead, turning away from her. “And if he did, he’s sure as hell dead now.”

“Your father filled your head with lies.”

You turned back to her, eyes glaring into hers. “Bullshit,” you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “He was the only one who ever told me the truth.”

Ignoring your words, she took a step away from you, her hand remaining on the cross around her neck. "Your father . . . I knew he was deeply flawed when I married him, but I just figured he’d change. I figured he’d see the way, instead he only got worse, but he knew when to control it. He knew right from wrong,” she went on, her voice steady, but her eyes had begun to water. And you knew tears would come, and when they did, you’d leave to kill the crawfish. "But, you, honey . . . I don't know where we went wrong with you. It's like you came out of the womb defective. You got all the bad traits of your father and nothing else. I look at you and I see this angry little girl. And, you know, sometimes I ask myself how in the world we managed to raise a daughter who is even more deeply flawed than her bastard father, but I never seem to know the answer."

There were the tears now.

But along with it came a knife in your chest that kept twisting and twisting the more she spoke.

Twist the knife, and she did.

"There's something wrong with you,” she whispered again after a moment’s silence, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. “You frighten me.”

Twist the knife, and you refused to pull it out.

This was what you deserved.

Still, you didn’t cry, not for yourself. Never for yourself. Instead, you continued to stare at her with no emotion in your eyes as you muttered, “Talking ill of the dead is a sin, remember?” And then you began to turn.

But your mother’s hand landed firmly around your arm. “Don’t you turn your back on me, girl,” she warned, her words sharper than the knife she’d twisted into your chest.

Swallowing hard, you sucked on your teeth. “What else do you want me to say?” you questioned, but didn’t bother to turn and face her. “I have nothing else to give you, mom.”

She released your arm as if you’d burned her and hissed, “Don’t call me that.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion for a mere second before you realized what she meant; before you realized what you’d said; what you’d done. It was an honest mistake, as well. You hadn’t called her that in so long, and yet it still came out. You hadn’t meant to say it, but it still came out as if you were still small and thought the whole world was in her arms.

“Then what do you want me to call you?” you asked, your voice quieter now as you took a step back. “If not mom, then what should your daughter call you? Hmm? Or is the answer nothing? Is that what we are to each other now? Will that make God come down from the heavens and give us salvation? . . . If you abandon me?”

Your mother remained silent.

And you knew her answer.

Sucking on your teeth, you nodded in acceptance. “What?” you spoke in a whisper as you took another step back. “Am I not being loud enough for him?” You outstretched your hands at your sides, gesturing to the heavens. “Should I scream it? Will he finally fucking answer then?”

“Stupid girl—” your mother quickly scolded, grabbing you firmly by the arm— “don’t you dare put this family in danger,”

But you only tilted your head in question. “Does that include me?”

Her eyes fluttered, taken back. “What?”

“This family,” you reiterated. “Am I a part of this family?”

Once again, she remained silent.

But you knew the truth.

“God’s plan as long as I’m out of the picture, right?” you muttered under your breath, swallowing hard once again. “At least we finally agree.”

Then, you were tearing your arm out of her grasp, but you didn’t move, you didn’t even look away from her. Instead, you kept still. You kept your eyes locked with hers as if breaking that eye contact would sever the final string holding the two of you together. She didn’t speak either, and she refused to move. She wouldn’t move first. You knew that. She’d always been that way. So had you . . .

And when you were sure the world had begun to rot around you, you could have sworn her bottom lip quivered as if she were on the verge of saying something . . . anything. Only, when her lips parted a mere sliver, a shrill scream sounded from behind, and the perpetual darkness of your world crept back in through your peripheral vision.

Beat. Your heart shot to your throat.

It happened too quickly for you to think.

Beat. Beat.

You heard the scream and you knew your sister was in trouble.

Beat.

Without a second thought, you dropped everything and ran toward the scream; toward the creek; toward your sister. It wasn’t far, but it was far enough for you to catch sight of two of the dead. One Felix fought off, while trying to grab his knife from his belt. The other had found its way to your sister, pinning her to the forest floor as she thrashed and screamed, her weak limbs desperately trying to keep the thing from sinking its teeth into her flesh.

And you knew what to do.

For a brief second longer, there was screaming. Then the squelch of a knife being plunged through a skull. Then nothing.

The world faded away. No noise. No people. No nothing.

One. Two. Three seconds, then the world started to return.

Breathing heavily, you watched carefully as your mother rushed past you, tearing the dead corpse off your sister and holding her closer . . . closer than she’d ever held you. Your nose twitched for a mere second as your gaze shifted from your mother and sister staring at you in shock ((?) no, maybe it was horror) to the stilled corpse, and finally to the bloodied knife gripped tightly in your hand.

You’d killed that thing, yes. But you hadn’t even thought about it. You hadn’t stopped to think that this thing was once a person. You hadn’t even seen it as such, unlike your mother; unlike what the town had tried to drill into your head during Pestilence’s reign. And . . . you could see that realization in your mother’s eyes.

. . . You were getting worse.

Your legs had begun to weaken at the thought, but you quickly stabled yourself, afraid they’d see it as another sign to put you down like the violent dog you knew they saw you to be. Instead, you tore your gaze from the knife in your hand and met your mother’s eyes once again (but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet your sister’s tearful stare). “Tell me, mo—” you quickly stopped the word from tumbling from your tongue, then went on— “is this still what God’s plan looks like to you?”

But your mother didn’t reply, and you didn’t wait for her to. You could barely stand to hold her gaze for a second longer. Instead, you wiped the blood from your knife on your pants, shoved it back into your belt, and turned, walking back to the fire you had begun to make minutes before.

And as you walked, you took note of the silence which followed you. You took note of how even Felix hesitated slightly before he followed after you. You took note of how your mother and sister sat near that creek for a few minutes longer and didn’t bother to wander after you as if you were no longer their blood.

The final string tying your family together had begun to wear thinner. You wondered when it would finally snap. You wondered how long it would take for a violent dog to succumb to its instincts; how long it would take you to become the lost cause you knew you were destined to be.

Would they make the decision to put you down then?

Four days. Two sleepless nights. And one squirrel shared between the four of you. You felt a fever coming on a couple days ago. You saw the infected cuts from the fight with that man. You knew your body was weakening day by day.

If you didn’t stop soon, you’d sure become one of the dead.

But you tried your best to ignore it. You had to.

Your mother; however, remained hopeful (of course). You could hear her chattering on to your sister throughout the day while you watched the world.

According to her, no one really knew why the Horsemen came to earth. She claimed the world needed saving from certain people (what you were sure she was leaving out was the fact that she was convinced you were one of these people). So, she went on and on and on, and you quietly listened, too, because you were still a girl who used to kneel in church, after all; because you could still feel the bruises on your knees; because you could still see the scars left behind from the scabs.

So, you listened, but you did not believe.

The world was fucked and needed cleansing. People were inherently bad and God saw no other way for salvation (apparently) than to send his four loyal Horsemen to destroy Earth and its people. . . . Well . . . supposedly. You knew the truth; however. There were no Horsemen. There was just death. Something had gone wrong and no one really knew what, so they blamed it on some higher power.

Whatever.

(Supposedly) Pestilence had been a shadow. War had wanted an audience. The world fell before you could get a proper grasp on Famine. And now Death was here. He’d been walking the earth for two years now, and still no one knew why.

Just like the town, your mother had her theories. And while she believed this God was still on your side, still searching for the good in humanity, you thought him fucked up. The human race was just his playthings.

He’d made sure there was nothing left.

Hell, you knew there wasn’t even a god. The world was just fucked. The end.

Point blank: it didn’t matter. Nothing did anymore.

Survival was all that mattered.

Everything else was fucked.

And as you continued to lead the way into nothingness, listening to your mother’s ramblings about the Bible, all you could do was ignore how your knees had begun to itch once again, while you focused on one thought: survive, survive, survive. But . . . not for yourself . . . for them.

Survive long enough for them.

For your father.

For your sister.

For your mother.

For Felix.

For them.

By sundown, Felix managed to find an abandoned warehouse for the night. It wasn’t much, but it was better than sleeping out in the wild. Perhaps all of you could get some shuteye that night. Sure, luckily it was around Fall or maybe just before where it was still warm, but sleeping on logs wasn’t ideal. (Not that you could be picky. Not that you were.)

But, just your luck, sleep never found you.

Beside you, Felix softly snored, laying on his back with his arms crossed over his chest and his head resting in your lap. Your hand found its way to his dark waves, gently scratching his scalp as he slept. It brought you peace where you normally had none.

Sometimes you wondered when Felix would finally realize the monster you’d become. You wondered what it would take. How many more people would you kill for them in order for him to look at you as if you were a stranger?

You didn’t want to see that day come.

It’d already come for your mother the day your father died. Then for your sister when you’d butchered that man. You couldn’t bear living through Felix’s realization.

With a sigh, you glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on your mother’s sleeping figure as your little sister curled up into her side, miles away in her dreams. You hoped it was better there; that her dreams were still pure and innocent despite the world.

You tore your eyes from them a second later, instead opting to glance out the large opening in the warehouse where a window used to be. The world was so bleak now. Even the sight of the empty lands before your eyes stirred nothing within you. It was just so . . . distant.

Nothing was left.

Truly.

Reluctantly, you shut your eyes, trying your hardest to drift off into sleep, but the pounding in your head and the scratch in your throat kept you up. You were getting worse. You squeezed your eyes tighter, hoping this fever would subside soon. The world was darker now, the nothingness intensifying. You weren’t even sure if you could sleep anymore. Had you been? You couldn’t remember.

But just when you were sure sleep wouldn’t greet you that night, forcing you to keep watch, you could’ve sworn you heard an inhuman howl echo throughout the darkness beyond.

Your eyes snapped open, heart hammering.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Another howl echoed throughout the air. But this was no howl from a wolf or even a beast.

You’d heard stories from survivors in the towns you’d passed through in the two years Death had taken his reign over your lands. You’d heard the stories of Death and his steed. His steed, pale in color similar to a corpse, was rumored to have this cry.

The cry was no ordinary cry. Death’s steed cried similar to a wolf or rather a beast, hungry for blood. It was a war cry—a warning sign.

Of course, Death was not real and there was no horse with their cry. No, you knew what this was. You’d heard these cries in smaller amounts. You’d heard these cries as you plunged your knife into each undead’s brain, killing the parasite living within. And a howl like this only meant one thing—a hoard.

You swallowed hard.

Death was near.

You’d thought the undead didn’t hoard unless . . .

The man.

Your eyes widened.

The night the man had attacked your group, you had managed to hotwire a car. That had been your plan. You were going to use that car to get your group farther and safer. But because of that man . . . because of what you’d done to him, you’d accidentally popped one of the tires in the process, forcing your group to stay the night in those woods when you should’ve been on the road.

And his screams . . .

You’d slowed down and made yourself known, and now they were following the noise.

And . . . it was all your fault.

You exhaled a shaky breath.

Death was coming.

Immediately, you swung into action, quietly waking Felix up. His eyes questioned yours before he, too, heard the war cry.

Death was coming. Felix knew this now, too.

The two of you silently awoke your mother and sister, Felix informing them of the matter they had on your hands, while you gathered your father’s shotgun, crouching near the window for a better look. If they were near . . . how near?

You swallowed hard.

Maybe you could still run. You could still get everyone out if you ran. It could work—

But then you saw it.

In the distance, you caught sight of the undead as they cried, following each other.

You checked the gun’s chamber, removing and reloading the cartridges just to make sure they were in place in case you were forced to fire. Your grip tightened and loosened, and you could hear Felix whispering your name, but your eyes were transfixed on the hoard up ahead.

Death was here. So close. Too close.

They couldn’t see you now, couldn’t hear you, but . . . if you ran, they’d catch sight of you. They’d kill your family. They’d kill Felix. They’d kill you all.

There was no way you could outrun the hoard. Not when they were this close; not when they could smell you; hear your every breath.

Fuck.

You wanted to scream.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your father had trusted you. They all had. And now you were going to let another person down all because you’d been stupid one night. You’d fucked all of you.

“Snap out of it,” Felix whispered, his hand on your shoulder. “Ideas?”

You could only shake your head.

Felix swore, running his hands through his hair. "There's no way," he nearly gasped at his words. "Fuck."

You swore you felt your heart drop as you slumped against the wall. They were going to die. Because of you.

There was no way out; no way any of you would make it past the hoard without them noticing. The moment they saw any of you, they’d follow you until they could get their teeth into your flesh. And while you had no care for your own life, you still had care for theirs—the people you'd sworn to protect.

Your father had died for all of you. He knew it wasn't safe, and he still went out. He'd traded his life for yours. He'd made you swear to protect your mother and your little sister, and along the way, you'd sworn to not only keep them safe but to keep Felix from harm. You'd sworn that, and you were not one to fall back on your word.

There was no way out together. But . . . there was one way out.

You knew what that meant.

This was what your father would've wanted. This was what he would've done; what he had done.

It was always going to turn out this way. You'd known that.

And in that moment, you accepted that. After all, you'd always been told you were your father's daughter.

This was how you made things right.

You nodded at your thoughts.

Then, you felt your eyes burn, your brows scrunching in confusion. Wetness slipped down your cheek and you briefly touched a finger to the tear, finding you were crying. You hadn’t cried in so long.

Angrily, you wiped the tears away. You didn’t get to cry.

This had been your fault in the first place. This was how you made it right. You didn’t get to cry. You didn’t.

So you sent one last glare at the hoard up ahead, then turned to Felix. Fuck. He would be the one in charge now. You trusted him, yes, but you knew how heavy that burden was. That was what you would regret the most—putting Felix through this agony, too.

Still: "Little bird," you whispered.

Fearful tears were already in his eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"Can't help it. I taught you how to fly," you hummed, voice soft and unlike you.

You both knew what you meant. You'd taught Felix how to fire a gun, taught him how to gut a fish, you taught him how to survive—you taught him how to fly. But he didn't need any more teachings. Like a baby bird, he'd flown from the nest ages ago. He could fly without you. The thought brought a melancholic smile to your chapped lips as you fought back the burning in your eyes when they met his worried gaze once again.

"Makes me feel important." You touched a hand to his cheek. He felt soft under your calloused skin. "But . . . you don't need me anymore."

Felix exhaled with a strained choke, his eyes widening in realization. "No," he rushed out, shaking his head as his soft brown eyes searched yours. "No." His hand enclosed around the one you'd touched to his cheek. "Don't. Don't."

You knew what he meant. Don't be the hero.

But that wasn't his decision to make. You had debts to pay; people to protect.

Living had never been something you wanted in a world like this. Sometimes you felt like a ghost; when the world was quiet and your heart beat a little slower—you felt like one of the many corpses you'd passed by on the daily.

Years ago, you promised your father you'd take over his job and protect. You'd never wanted to live, but you had forced yourself. Back then, you made a promise to yourself—you had to stay alive, not for yourself, but for them; you had to stay alive for the one you had lost. And you'd upheld that promise, but now . . . in order to save them, you had to break it.

You knew this.

Felix did, too.

He rested his forehead against yours. "Please. Don't. It's supposed to be you and me."

Your eyes squeezed shut. "I'm the reason he's dead."

The two of you knew what you meant. This was how you repaid him; how you repaid your father.

"Then let me do it," Felix muttered, hand dropping from yours to grasp the shotgun in your other hand.

You were quick to rip it from his hold. "It was always going to turn out this way," was all you said, and he knew what you meant.

The sound of the cries coming closer made you spring back from him. Your head swiveled, taking in your surroundings as your hands found their rightful place on the shotgun. Your eyes briefly found your little sister's—her round eyes wide with fright, only furthering your decision. You knew doing this for them, for her.

"Fine," you heard Felix hiss in a quiet whisper. "But I'm coming with you."

Your head snapped to him. "Like hell you are."

"You don't get to die."

"Neither do you."

"Then I guess we have a predicament."

Your eyes softened. "Lix."

His brows pinched together. "You don't get to die."

And you almost felt yourself smile. "Little birds are meant to fly," you hummed. Little birds are meant to fly; they aren't meant to die.

He shook his head.

You swallowed hard.

The cries grew closer, and your heart raced. You were out of time. This was your last goodbye.

You gripped his hand. "Protect them."

He latched onto your shoulders. “No. No. I’m not ready. Don’t make me say goodbye to you.”

Against your will, your bottom lip trembled. “It’s not.”

But it was. You both knew that.

Felix could only shake his head. “Please.”

“See you later, little bird,” you hummed, weakly, kissing his forehead before you tore yourself from him. And he reached for you, begging you to stay.

But . . . no amount of pleas could change your mind. You were already moving before Felix could stop you. You didn’t have the heart to glance back at your sister or your mother. You never wanted to live in a world like this, but if you looked back, you feared you might’ve found salvation in their eyes. You couldn’t put them through that. You’d put them through enough.

You worked quickly. You had to. For them.

The quiet cries of the hoard approached, moving slowly. You kept your eyes on their figures, stealthily stepping down the creaky stairs to the bottom floor. From there, you moved to the woods surrounding the area. You quickly crouched down in the dark forest, clutching the shotgun even tighter. This was your father’s, now it was yours, and you were going to use it to save your family.

You weren’t naive enough to think that you could actually kill all of them. But that didn’t matter. You were solely supposed to be a distraction. You would fire that damned shotgun at those things over and over again, not caring if it even did any damage. You just needed to keep their attention long enough to get them to follow you in the opposite direction. That would allow your family to escape. That was all you intended to do.

You knew there was no surviving this. And you were fine with that.

Death didn’t scare you. Not yours, anyway.

So you hunkered down, hands clutched on the shotgun as you waited for the hoard to get near enough to strike.

You heard them before you saw them. The cries echoed throughout the dark night, making your heart pound faster. It became louder and louder, so loud you felt yourself start to tense, and then the first came into view.

It came to a gentle halt, almost as if it had been expecting you. But that couldn’t be. It hadn’t seen you. You were still in the clear.

Still, you watched, remembering the lessons on hunting that your father had taught you. This was how you hunted—quiet, hidden, and alert.

The creature tilted its head back, eyes closed as the moonlight cascaded across its pale face. Your brows scrunched in confusion as you watched it, tilting your head to the side. It was almost as if it were basking in the moonlight, soaking up the feeling of the satellite shining down on it. And then you realized what it was doing: sniffing you out.

Behind it, the world was bleak as the rest of those damned creatures sauntered forward. The trees seemed to sag, the grass stale, and it was quiet, so very quiet. Every step they took, decay followed.

And then they began to move . . . toward the warehouse where your family still resided.

Your jaw ticked as you raised the shotgun. Your father’s instructions rang through your ears and you lined up the barrel, aiming at one of the creature’s chests as it was perhaps the only part of it you had direct access to. You were certain the impact wouldn’t kill it, you were almost certain it wouldn’t even hurt it, but . . . it would distract it, and that was all you needed.

Last week, you killed a man. You ripped out his jugular with your teeth. You’d slaughtered him. So this, killing this entity shouldn’t have made your stomach churn, but it did.

Your world was gone. Death remained. And it was all his doing.

Still . . . still, your finger hesitated on the trigger.

You would die tonight . . . by its hand, no doubt. And perhaps that scared you. Perhaps a part of you truly didn’t want to die. But you dumbed down this hesitation to just pure fear.

Fear that those things would find your family after disposing of your body; fear they’d kill them; fear all of this would be for nothing.

You swallowed hard and adjusted your grip on the gun. You had to try. Your life for theirs. It was that or you all died tonight, and you wouldn’t have that, not after all you had done; all you had put them through.

All you had to do was pull the trigger. And yet . . . you still hesitated.

Fuck. You closed your eyes, clenching your jaw as your heart hammered in your chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And as your eyes remained closed, you heard their voices then.

You're not too far gone.

Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.

There’s something wrong with you. You frighten me.

You have to grow up. No more kid stuff.

Your breath hitched. You have to grow up. And you had. Too quickly you now realized. It was always going to end up this way.

This was the only way to save them. The only way.

Your eyes snapped open, catching sight of the creatures still sniffing the air like they could just smell your terror. You sucked in a breath, then pulled the trigger. Exhale.

The ringing in your ears was almost immediate and the explosive sound echoed throughout the silent night. You barely even noticed the shotgun’s kickback, too focused on the creatures before you, watching with wide eyes as the pellets hit one of the things, knocking it entirely to the ground.

The others cried out, their noses no longer needing to be depended on as their eyes searched for the origin of the noise. And then you caught the eye of one, and you knew it was the end.

You faltered at the sight, stumbling backward as you tripped on a root, causing your body to hit the ground. A low groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.

Fuck.

Had that been too loud?

Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly glanced up, eyes landing on the creatures. More eyes stared back at you, hungry with . . . something as a few had begun to make their way toward you.

You swallowed hard.

Death itself had seen you.

Acting fast, you hastily grabbed the shotgun. You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up, but you needed to buy your family more time. You needed to end this.

And end it you would.

You clutched the shotgun tightly in your hand and sat up, groaning slightly when you felt a sharp pain in your ankle. But still, you went on.

Remembering your father’s teachings, you knew what a machine was good for at the end of its reign: making a lot of fucking noise.

And so with a heavy heart and angry tears pricking your eyes . . . you belted out a loud yell.

There was no hiding now. They had all heard you. And that was all that mattered to them.

“Come on, you fuckers!” you took it a step further as you yelled at them, clanking the butt of your gun on a tree to make as much noise as you could. And then, when you heard their cries echo with yours; when you saw one turn to two turn to ten following you into the woods, you knew it was time.

With a fleeting look at the warehouse where your family still resided, you fought back the urge to crawl into yourself and let that anger you’d been holding inside yourself for years now finally just . . . snap. You didn’t know if you fired the shotgun at one of the creature’s heads first or ran off further into the woods, still screaming. You didn’t know the present from the past, but you did know you couldn’t look back.

And so, you let yourself be loud, screaming for yourself, for the people you’d lost, for the people you’d never see again, for your father. You yelled and yelled, racing through the woods as they all quickly followed after you, releasing cries of their own.

The world fell behind you in those moments, time moving in slow motion as you weaved through the dark woods, your feet bounding off the ground as if you were in zero gravity. Sound evaded your senses, only the muffled noises of your rapid breathing could be heard echoing in your ears.

But you just kept running, letting the world escape you. Even when you’d trip over hidden roots, your knees buckling as you fell to the ground, surely bruising and cutting up your skin, you persisted each time. Like your father’s daughter, you pulled yourself to your feet each time, sparing a glance over your shoulder only to be met with the sight of the hoard getting nearer and nearer. And every time, you’d force yourself to swallow the bile crawling up your throat before you cocked your shotgun and fired into the hoard, taking off screaming for them to follow after you.

This was the end, and you planned to gather as much of them away from the warehouse and closer to you. You knew it would hurt, but you didn’t care. Their teeth ripping into your flesh would never be a match for the sins you’d committed in this lifetime. That was why you met every dead that got in your path with a lethal hit from the butt of your shotgun and a silent prayer that your damned soul could be traded for the safety of your family.

You were sure you would have continued running had your foot not slammed into a divot in the ground, twisting your ankle with such force that you hit the ground instantly, crying out in pain. And this time when you tried to stand to your feet, you realized the pain was too much to stand.

It hit you then.

Beat.

This really was the end.

You couldn’t run.

Beat.

The hoard was gaining on you.

This was the end.

Beat.

Swallowing hard, you clenched your jaw, shutting your eyes as you realized what you needed to do. Clutching your father’s shotgun close to your chest, so close it nearly touched your heart, your lips parted, and a scream bubbled up your throat, ripping through your vocal cords as it echoed throughout the dead of night.

But before you could inhale and breathe out another war cry of your own to match theirs, a hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your screams. Another hand was gripping your arm the next second, pulling you off the ground and shoving your back against the nearest tree.

Your eyes shot open, dropping your shotgun as your hands instinctively clasped around the wrist of the hand covering your mouth. Deep dark eyes stared back at you, a sense of urgency in them as you realized what was going on.

It happened so fast, too fast for you to process. But you quickly realized the eyes belonged to a man not much older than you. Dark eyes. Full lips. Sculpted nose. It was your first time seeing a man other than Felix . . . other than the one you’d gutted . . . in a long time.

What was he doing?

But you couldn’t ponder long as his eyes twisted to the scene behind you, and you could’ve sworn you felt his heart beat faster against your lips where his hand still lay. And at that sight, he kicked into action.

“You listen to me. We have a few seconds before those fuckers are at our throats,” he spoke in a hushed tone, his voice deep and controlled, but you could sense the fear on him. It was different from yours. “When I tell you, you run as fast as you fucking can in that direction and you don’t stop. You follow me and you don’t get lost or you’re dead.” His hand fell from your mouth as he began hastily digging through the pack over his shoulder. “Got it?”

You skipped a beat, not answering.

His eyes were on you instantly, expectantly.

But you only blinked.

You didn’t want to be saved.

No, he couldn’t do this. It was your time. This was your punishment. He couldn’t—

Your thoughts were cut short as he pulled something out of his pack, and you quickly realized a grenade now sat in his hand. Your eyes widened. He was going to—

“Run,” he bit out, an order.

And it all happened so fast.

You stayed put.

He turned from you, quickly pulling the pin and chucking the grenade as fast and hard as he could from your location. You watched the weapon soar, your heartbeat stilling in your throat as the seconds of anticipation crept upon you.

Beat.

Be—

A loud explosion sounded in the distance, the ground shaking beneath your feet as ringing in your ears commenced. Only then did you realize your feet had been moving on their own, carrying you farther and farther away from the scene as you caught a glimpse of the hoard following after the explosion. But you wouldn’t do this. You had accepted your death. You wouldn’t—

Your feet weren’t moving of your own volition. The world had fallen away from you, you realized, but as you turned your head away from the hoard you realized it was the man who was dragging you away from the scene. You realized in your daze, that he must have locked his grip onto your arm and took off running, dragging you along with him despite your injured ankle and dormant mind.

And for some reason, despite the urge to fall to the ground and let yourself fade away, you allowed him to drag you further and further into the woods. You didn’t realize just how much land you had covered until the sound of the hoard was so far, that he’d begun to slow down ever so slightly. You didn’t realize until the woods turned into sparse grassland, until the sight of what appeared to be a latched roof to an underground bunker of some sort. You’d heard of shelters like these, but you’d never seen one. You always just assumed the military had covered it all up, leaving people to die while they sat safely under the barren earth.

Your mind raced with a million thoughts, but you could barely see straight let alone think right as you allowed this man to drag you to the entrance. Hell, you allowed him to shove you inside, as you crawled down the ladder in the tunnel. It was a subconscious action, honest. Otherwise, you would’ve begged him to leave you outside to die. But there was no breath for begging as he followed in after you, shutting the hatch and twisting it closed to ensure it was tightly locked.

And when your feet finally met the metal flooring of the inside, you stepped back in shock.

As you had predicted, this was a government bunker. A rather large one at that. You swallowed hard. Fuck.

And when you turned around, your eyes searching the area, you were met with the scene of a group of survivors staring back at you in confusion. People. And they were alive. You hadn’t seen so many people since before Famine.

What the fuck?

But before you could react, something hard cracked over the back of your head, throbbing pain followed. The darkness seeped in instantly, your mind losing control of your body as you smacked the ground, eyes fluttering as you faded in and out of consciousness.

There it was, you realized.

Your punishment.

You were going to die.

And you couldn’t help but allow yourself one last selfish look because maybe there was still a small part of you that wanted to be alive. But that part could only live if things were normal again, if things were the way they had been before the world died. Still, that part of you took over and you watched silently, your vision fading in and out as you caught a glimpse of those dark eyes that had saved you, just moments before the world faded into darkness.

The next time your eyes fluttered open, a metal ceiling stared back at you.

There was a throbbing in your head, searing through your thoughts, and your shotgun was nowhere to be found. You released a soft groan, trying to shift in your spot, but you were met with resistance. You tugged and tugged, but your body didn’t budge.

In confusion, you glanced around, finding yourself on a medical bed, your hands tied together with rope, attaching you to the bed. This didn’t make sense. You hadn’t seen a bed in months maybe a year now. This didn’t make sense. Where were you? How did you—

And then . . . then the memories all faded in.

The warehouse. The man. The shots. The hoard.

This was Death’s doing.

The town had warned you of this and you’d denied it. You still didn’t believe. You couldn’t. God was dead and the Horsemen were just a figment of fearmongering. But for a second, you wanted to believe. For that second you were strapped to that bed, you wanted to believe that this was your purgatory and Death was punishing you. That would be easier: if you believed.

Death was an entity; one you had no idea about. There was no knowing what exactly he could and couldn’t do. And this . . . being bound to a medical bed with not even a soul to be heard felt utterly ordinary if he did exist, considering what you did know about this dark being.

But . . . why were you still alive?

Slowly, you lifted your head, groaning at the pain that followed as you assessed the rest of your body. You were alive. Cuts and bruises everywhere, but you could still inhale, exhale, breathe. You could still hear the beat of your heart if you closed your eyes and focused. You were alive.

You were alive.

Your jaw twitched. “I’m alive,” you whispered to yourself, a bitter taste left on your tongue. “I”m . . . alive.”

And for a second, you truly allowed yourself to believe Death existed. You allowed yourself that he had done this to you; that the two years he’d reigned all led up to this very moment. You allowed yourself to believe that he had kept you alive because suffering was for the living.

Was this his way of being kind? Sparing you?

Swallowing hard, you glared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. If you prayed, would he give in? Would he end this suffering? Would he finally give you your punishment?

Your mind wasn’t allowed much longer to ponder as the sound of a door opening brought you out of your repenting. Wearily, you watched with stern eyes as a man stepped in, carrying a bowl in one hand and a washcloth in the other. You watched as he let himself in, still not looking up while he closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh and finally . . . glanced up, meeting your gaze.

Him.

The man.

Slowly, your face softened as confusion consumed you. Him. He had done this to you. He had been the one to lead you here. (He’d also been the one to save you . . . ) He had knocked you out cold. And now . . . now here he was.

You clenched your jaw hard.

The man just stared a minute longer at you, his gaze stern, cold, calculating. Then, he was walking toward you, resting the bowl on the bedside table beside your head before he reached forward and tapped a finger to your chin, tilting your head so he could analyze the wounds on your face.

And you let him, analyzing his actions, preparing for his next.

“You’re awake,” was all he simply said as he dropped your chin and diverted his attention to the bowl on the bedside table. “Sorry about the blow and the rope . . . it’s . . . protocol.”

But you remained silent, watching.

"Your stunt back there . . . could’ve cost us this entire place," he muttered, his voice calm and controlled but you knew he was seething inside. He remained quiet as he dipped the washcloth into the bowl of what seemed to be warm water before he turned to you once again, his eyes lethal. "Screaming only attracts more of them, don’t you know? If you wanted to die, you should’ve just stayed put.”

You swallowed thickly.

There was something terrifying about a quiet rage.

"There's always someone like you," he continued, his eyes racking up and down your body in a menacing glare before the warm touch of a washcloth to your cheek startled a quiet gasp out of your lips. "Someone who ends up surviving longer than they should have." A scoff left him. "Someone who doesn’t care who dies for them as long as they get out unscathed. Did you even think there might be other survivors around before you took off attracting all of those things? If there were children? Families? People who survive together and want to stay alive without running into someone like you?”

And you hadn’t.

You never thought yourself to be stupid or any of the sort. You hadn’t been thinking. There hadn’t been enough time. You just needed to do something so your family could make it out alive. You hadn’t thought that there could be others. You hadn’t thought that saving your family could damn another.

Had your mother been right about you?

Were you really just a stupid girl? A stupid girl playing hero?

The man pulled a chair from the corner of the room, and placed it beside your bed, sitting on it as he dragged the washcloth down your arms now. His touch was somehow gentle despite his glare. Perhaps it was because no one had touched you so gently in so long. Perhaps it was because you had given up, but you let him clean the wounds on your body as you rested your head back onto the pillow, your muscles relaxing ever-so-slightly.

"No?" he questioned, reiterating his accusation. “In my experience, people like you don’t find themselves in trouble like that unless they’re planning something.”

You remained expressionless as you watched him, taking in his words. He thought you’d lured the dead here, and for what? Looting? Or just plain insanity?

Had you really become that corrupt even a stranger could sense it on you?

Slowly, you blinked, wondering if your father had ever felt this way before his death. And as you wondered, the man beside you continued cleaning your wounds, but this time, remained silent. Maybe he realized you wouldn’t answer. Or maybe he already knew the truth about you and your damned soul.

And as the minutes of silence ticked on, you did your own inspection.

Now, under the light, the man sat beside you, his eyes fixed on meticulously cleaning each wound with care despite his lethal words. It had been so long since you’d seen another man like this; a man that had to be around your age; a man so young yet so riddled with age. His dark hair was slightly curly, more tangled and messy than anything as if he hadn’t slept in days. The dark circles under his equally dark eyes were enough to show his evident sleep deprivation. And yet, he seemed almost too alert: his full lips were hidden as his teeth worried his bottom lip while he continued to clean the blood from your skin.

(You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t beautiful; so beautiful it almost made you believe in God once more.)

And for a second, you let yourself wonder what else your mother had been right about. You let yourself believe once again. You let yourself be a girl who could finally kneel in church without bruises being left behind. For a moment, you let yourself believe that she and the town had been right; that this whole thing was God’s plan; that the Horsemen had come; that they could be saved, but you would be condemned.

Then . . . you began to wonder if you had already been. Maybe it was the blow to the head you’d taken or the fever raging through your body or maybe it was the truth, but you began to believe that perhaps this was your purgatory; perhaps you had died in that hoard and you’d been sent here; perhaps the beautiful man beside you was Death himself.

Was this it then? Were you always meant to see him at the end?

Oddly enough, he reminded you of this small dog your sister had found near one of the abandoned houses your family had stayed in over the years. This was during Famine’s rule—when food became sparse, when lands became stale and yellowed; when the dead had only just begun to migrate south. This tiny dog found your younger sister then, and she’d brought it home, leaving you no choice but to care for the little thing.

Your sister had named her Berry. (A few months later you had to put her down; it was what we had to do to survive, you’d told your sister back then. You were sure it was then she first started to hate you.)

And as you stared at Death, taking note of how his eyes were a particular shade of brown, you realized they were the same shade that the silly dog had.

You tilted your head. Death somehow had eyes that were kind; eyes that were warm; eyes that reminded you of Felix. Was that how they planned to transfix you? Was Death meant to be this beautiful; this familiar so you’d go willingly? Had God forgotten you’d already condemned yourself? Had he forgotten you didn’t need to be tricked? Had he forgotten where your prayers resided?

Only a moment later, when you felt his hands running over your torso, did you snap out of your exhaust-ridden daze. You realized quickly he was cleaning the last of your wounds which resided on your ribs. And when he was done, he tossed the washcloth into the bowl without another care before he slowly leaned back, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched you with scrutinizing eyes.

Death narrowed his gaze, but it wasn’t menacing this time. Rather, he seemed almost perplexed. "Why aren’t you fighting?" he questioned. "You didn’t stop to run before. Why calm your fire now?"

Why aren’t you fighting?

The thing was: it was over. Your fight was over.

Sure, you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Death was painfully beautiful . . . but it went beyond that.

It was surely daylight by now.

Daylight had come, hours had passed, and Death had you in his hold.

By now, Felix had probably taken your mother and sister onto the road again. They’d escaped, and they were miles and miles away from you and Death. They were safe.

So . . . where was your fight?

You didn’t have one anymore. This was the end. Death would either kill you or make you suffer again and again and again, and your family would live. You’d once told yourself that you never wanted to live in a world like this, but you’d kept yourself alive to protect your family. Only now . . . you didn’t need to fight because there wasn’t anyone left for you to protect.

Your fight was over. Maybe you could rest now. Maybe he’d let you.

Death seemed to catch onto the shift in your demeanor as he narrowed his eyes. "Do you not speak?"

For a moment, you considered not replying. Until: "There's no point," you heard yourself say, voice dry and hoarse.

The look on Death’s face was unreadable as his eyes shifted across your face, his mouth slightly parted. "You smell of death," he muttered, gaze still searching your being.

And you almost laughed.

Because this was your end, and Death himself just told you that you smelled like shit or well . . . like him, you supposed . . . apparently.

It all felt a little unreal.

Death must not have liked your silence as he shot you one last glance before he pulled away and walked toward a table on the other side of the room. As he walked, you caught sight of the blood painting his body, his skin, him.

You swallowed hard. You’d brought that hoard to him. He’d fought his way out. You’d caused those wounds, and now he was more than likely going to do worse to you. He’d probably take that scythe you were told he carried and cut your head clean off.

But unlike what you thought, Death sifted through the miscellaneous items on the table before pausing and grabbing a small knife. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched him approach you, knife in hand.

There it was.

This was the end you were promised.

Was he going to slit your throat and leave you to bleed out? Or cut you open so you could see just how dark your heart had become? You wouldn’t put it past him. Hell, you might have even welcomed it. But as he approached you, your eyes closing in anticipation, he did not bring that knife down upon your body. No, instead, with a few quick motions and the sound of the rope being cut, you slowly opened your eyes just as your hands were released from the rope’s grip.

On instinct, you brought your hands close to your chest, rubbing your raw wrists. You couldn’t even speak, you just watched as he kept the knife in his hand but returned back to his position of leaning back against the chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on you.

"You're human," you found yourself uttering as you watched him watch you.

His brows twitched in confusion. "Of course I am.”

But Death couldn’t bleed. . . . Could he?

"You bleed,” you spoke your thoughts, dumbly.

His eyes met yours, but only briefly. "Am I not meant to?" he bit out before his gaze fell back on your hand rubbing your wrist. "Even the dead bleed."

Your confusion only spiraled. This was your end; your purgatory. This was Death, was he not? Your mother had been right. She had to have been right otherwise you were still alive; otherwise, you had managed to escape death once again without so much as a punishment. That wouldn’t be fair. That wouldn’t be right. That wouldn’t be just.

This had to be Death. You had to be dead or somewhere in between. It didn’t matter, this just had to be your end.

So, why hadn’t he condemned you yet?

Why—

"Why—” Death interrupted your thoughts, once you finally dropped your hand from your wrist— “did you think I couldn’t bleed?"

You glanced his way, finding his eyes already on you.

His stare only unnerved you more.

Why couldn’t he just kill you? You deserved it.

Your brows furrowed. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your food?" you found yourself spitting out, finally finding your voice despite his devasting beauty capturing your words. "I put your lives in danger. I lead them here like you said. I could be with anyone. Having me here could kill you all, so take your revenge. Kill me."

The crease between his brows deepened further. "I'm not letting you die," he simply said, his anger quiet and calm . . . still. “You put my group in harm's way. I won’t pardon you for that . . . but . . . we don’t kill the living.”

That only unnerved you further.

Was this truly Death?

Surely he had killed before.

Although . . . you supposed perhaps he’d only just ever waited. Was that his fault? Waiting for the dead to find him? Is that how he found you in those woods? Is that how he’d taken your arm and helped you crossover to the other side? But . . . if that were true . . . where was your father now? Surely, he would’ve come to see you. Surely, he would’ve been the first one knocking at your door. Surely, he’d be here.

As you briefly wet your lips, your eyes flicked up to meet his. “Where’s my dad?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

A look of deep confusion twisted onto Death’s face, and then he was leaning forward to feel your forehead with the back of his hand. “Fever,” he mumbled more to himself before he pushed himself to his feet, the chair screeching against the floor. “Get some rest. Someone will be in to bandage you up and . . . I’ll be back in a couple hours with medication.” His gaze dropped to the large gash on your arm from just a few nights ago. “When you’re healed, we’ll give you some supplies and then you’ll be on your way, understood?”

But you just stared at him, silently pleading. Pleading for what? You didn’t know. All you knew was if your father wasn’t here, you couldn’t be dead. And if you weren’t, you wanted to be. You’d be able to find him then, because although you were no longer a girl who could kneel in church, you could still feel the scabs on your knees from years ago; you could still remember what it was to believe so blindly; you could still feel that insistent desire for there to be something beyond this world . . . something after this world.

There just had to be. You had to see him again. You had to find him.

You could die now. You could find him now. You would find him.

“Great,” Death muttered under his breath, breaking you out of your own mind. And with one final glance at your exhausted body, he began to turn and head for the door.

Fear struck you then. You had to find your father. “Wait, please—” you hastily grabbed onto his arm, only being able to reach his hand enough to dig your nails into his skin to halt him— “I beg of you.”

His eyes snapped to yours, wide and cautious as if at any moment, one wrong move and he’d grant your wishes. And all you could do was hope.

“Kill me,” you weakly whispered, hopelessly searching his eyes.

His brows twitched, taken back.

“Death,” you begged in a whisper, your bottom lip trembling, “please.”

But Death only stared back at you with a perplexing look written across his face. It was as if he couldn’t believe your request. Had no one ever begged him to die?

A heavy beat of silence pounded in your ears.

Death only continued to stare, a world raging on behind his eyes as he took you in. His demeanor was still calm, still collected, but he seemed . . . perturbed by your request, by your presence, by you. And you watched as his eyes trickled across your face, searching for something until finally . . . his gaze zeroed in on your cheek, his brows furrowing.

Then . . . you felt it.

A tear had slowly begun to slip down your cheek as if your body knew it was a sin to cry. But you were . . . crying that was.

You nearly gasped.

Another tear trickled down your cheek. Guilt followed.

But just as you were about to angrily wipe it away, there was a sharp knock at the door, breaking both you and Death out of your spell. The door opened a second later, a man peaking his head in with a solemn look on his face.

The man didn’t spare you a glance, he only cleared his throat and said, “Chris?” His brows raised, a silent message passing between the two. “A minute.”

Death only nodded, and then the man was gone, the door shutting behind him. Silence followed, but Death stayed unmoving, his arm still in your tight grasp.

“You won’t run,” he slowly spoke, his words a statement, not an order, but he didn’t turn to look at you. He kept his eyes on the door. “I don’t kill the living. I won’t kill you.” He paused, audibly swallowing, and then his eyes were on you. “And I know you won’t kill us.”

And then he was gone before you could blink, quickly tearing his arm out of your grasp before he reached the door and closed it behind him. You were alone with yourself once again, your thoughts running wild as your hand remained outstretched, almost frozen in place.

I know you won’t kill us, he’d told you.

But how could you kill Death? How did he know you wouldn’t if he didn’t give you what you wanted? How could he be so sure that you weren’t a killer, when you so clearly were?

You had killed before, and if he didn’t take you to the other side, you’d surely kill again. That was who you had become. That was who you were. He should’ve known that.

And then as you slowly laid your head back onto the pillow and allowed the minutes to tick by, the throbbing in your head began to subside, and the world became a little clearer. You were no longer a girl who could kneel in church. You did not believe anymore. The world had gone to shit, and it wasn’t because of God’s plan. There were no Horsemen. Your family was gone. And that . . . that man had not been Death.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you swallowed thickly. What was happening to you?

It all hit you then.

These were a group of survivors. That man surely was their leader, and you had just led hundreds of the dead to their doorstep. They should’ve killed you for that alone. You would’ve. You wouldn’t even hesitate if this had been your family. You would’ve done everything to keep them safe, even if it meant killing others, and yet . . .

I won’t kill you.

But why? You deserved it. You could see it in his eyes that he knew.

These were good people. And you were their bad omen.

It wouldn’t be long before your presence brought misery upon them, too, just as it had to your family. And it’d be all your fault.

You’d live, only to see many die. You’d make it out unscathed just as you always had, while they’d suffer, just as he had said.

It was then you realized this was not your purgatory, it was your Hell.

taglist:

@amaranth-writing @binchanluvrr @dreamingsmile @eternalrajin

(i did post the teaser like a year ago, so if you want to be taken off, send me a lil message <3)

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straylightdream · 11 months

Text

run to you - my sweet savior

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: bang chan x chubby/plus size f.reader

friends to lovers / non idol au

↳ after running away from an abusive ex there is only one person you know you’ll truly feel safe with.

{ “You mean so much to me, and I just want to keep you safe. I’m so sorry he was ever able to hurt you,”

“Chan nobody was able to protect me.”}

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit sexual content (smut warnings below the cut), and mentions/talks of abuse happening (by the mc’s ex) before the story, and mentions of injuries from abuse. This is gonna be a heavier story.

𝐚𝐧: I started to really second guess this story when I was editing if I’m being honest.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected piv, oral (male rec), fingering (fem rec), this is pretty vanilla they’re in love, names such as: baby, and baby girl

You had known each other since your freshman year of college when your dorms were on the same floor. You became friends right away when Chan accidentally ran into you while he was walking to the library. He’ll never admit it to anyone but he did it on purpose. He had seen you talking to your friend and wanted a reason to talk to you. He figured it would be the best way to start up a conversation. From the moment you met you had become instantly friends. No matter what happened in your life you were always able to run to Chan. He would always be there to save you.

It was the middle of the night, and instead of being at home in bed you ran away to the only person you felt safe with. Standing at his door you rapidly knocked on the door trying to get him to come to open it quickly. Pushing the tears off your flushed cheeks that had a large bruise already forming you inhaled deeply trying to stop crying. If he didn’t answer in the next minute you were just going to walk to Changbin’s apartment. You were praying Chan was going to answer the door. You needed him desperately at the moment.

“Who is it?” he asked on the other side of the door.

“It’s (Y/N),” you said through tears as they continued to fall.

Opening the door, he stared at you for a moment. His apartment was dark behind him. You were caught off guard by the fact he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants that sat really low on hips. You could tell that he was asleep before you had woken him up with you pounding on his door. Sniffling, you stood there staring at him. You didn’t even know what you expected from him, but when you left your apartment you knew you needed to go to Chan.

“Why are you crying,” he said with his voice sounding raspy.

“Chan, can I come in?” You asked awkwardly standing in the hallway.

He nodded his head and stepped to the side signaling for you to come in.

You suddenly froze in place and you can’t even fully explain why. He noticed your hesitation and took your hand gently.

Holding his hand, he led you over to the couch that sat in the middle of his dark apartment. He didn’t even bother turning on any lights. The only light on was the one in the bathroom that was giving a dull glow near his bed. You were trying to calm down because you didn’t want to cry anymore. You kept taking deep breaths attempting to stop crying. The weight of the night felt like it was crushing you.

“What time is it?” he asked, sitting down next to you.

“It’s two in the morning,” you sighed knowing you shouldn’t have come to his apartment.

“Is there a reason you came to my apartment at two in the morning crying?” he looked over at you. You were happy the room was so dark so it must have been hard to see the bruises. You paused for a moment because you knew he was probably going to lose his cool when you told him why. “Promise you’ll stay calm,” you reached over and rested your hand on his thigh.

“Why do I know I’m not gonna like what you’re gonna say?”

“I need a restraining order against Jimmy,” you sighed, explaining why you needed a restraining order and was going to have to cause you to re-live the pain. You knew with Chan and Changbin being lawyers they would be able to make the process of you getting one easier.

Jimmy was your boyfriend of three years that you lived with. You thought he was the one you were going to marry until about two weeks ago when things changed between you. He used to be gentle and caring until more recently when things started to change.

Tilting his head to the side he asked, “why do you need a restraining order?”

You swallowed trying to gather the courage to tell him, “he hit me a couple of weeks ago after drinking. I told myself it was a one-time thing that he would never do it again, and then…” Tears quickly brimmed your eyes before you started crying again, reliving that hell of a night.

Chan’s nostrils flared as he tried to stay calm at what you were telling him, “then what?” he asked. He was trying to force himself to stay calm so that he couldn’t just go kill the man who hurt his best friend.

“He came home from drinking with his friends and he tried to kiss me and when I told him he was drunk he slapped me. I tried to fight him off and then he slammed me into a mirror,” tears fell as you looked down at her bare thighs that were covered in cuts. You could already see your legs turning shades or purple and green as the bruises were starting to form.

“What the fuck?” Chan stood up quickly filled with rage. You knew that Chan would have no issue killing Jimmy after what he did to you.

“Chan please stay calm,” you grabbed his hand desperately pleading for him to calm down. You didn’t need him to be mad right now; you just needed him to hold you and let you know you weren’t alone.

“He laid his fucking hands on you,” he gazed off into your direction. He didn’t know what to do at that moment. He wanted to personally go kill the man that touched his best friend.

“Chan, I left him and came here. I don’t need you to hurt him and I sure as hell don’t need you to be freaking out right now. I’m begging you to not do anything,” you sobbed clenching his hand.

He could hear the pain in your voice. Sitting back down on the couch you released his hand and he gently reached up and rested his hand on your bruised cheek.

Not being able to actually see you In the very dark room he asked, “how bad are you hurt?”

“My right cheek is really bruised, and on my left side my body got pretty cut up from the mirror,” you sighed as tears fell.

Gently he reached and wiped away your tears that were staining your cheeks.

“You need to file a police report tomorrow and then we’ll get you that restraining order,” he sighed attempting to calm down.

“Also you’re moving in with me for a while. I’ll take the couch and you can have the bed.”

“I can’t have you sleeping on the couch Chan,” you sighed.“I can sleep on the couch and you can take the bed.”

Silence took over the room for a long moment as you stared at him. He cleared his throat and said, “why didn’t you tell me a couple weeks ago he hit you?”

“Because I was embarrassed it happened and told myself it was a one time thing.”

Closing his eyes he shook his head upset he couldn’t prevent you from getting hurt. This should have never happened a first time let alone a second time.

“Let’s get some sleep,” you stood up. You wanted this hell of a night to be over.

—-

It has been a week since you left Jimmy and this afternoon Chan, Changbin and your friend Molly went over to your place you used to share with Jimmy and got all your stuff. While you were there both Changbin and Chan threatened him within an inch if he ever came near you again.

Laying on Chan’s couch in the middle of the living area of his studio you looked over at Chan who was in bed. You tried your best to fight back tears. You were finally free from Jimmy but that meant you were going to have to restart your life. You had been living with him for the last two years. So that meant you were going to have to find your own place, and your own furniture. You hadn’t ever lived on your own. When you went to college you lived with Molly and then after graduating you moved in together. You lived with her until you foolishly decided to move in with your ex. The sound of you sniffling back your tears had Chan's attention. Sitting up in bed he asked, “why are you crying?”

Pushing the tears off your cheeks you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed you kept crying in front of him. “It’s nothing,” you lied.

“Please come over here and sleep in this bed with me, I can’t have you going to bed crying on the couch,” he sighed getting out of bed.

Sitting up you looked over to where Chan was sitting on the edge of the bed, “I’m fine here. I think tomorrow I need to start looking for a place to live. I’ve never lived on my own and honestly it kind of terrifies me.”

Standing up he slowly started making his way over to the couch where you were sitting. “You can live here as long as you want?”

Before you could say anything Chan was standing in front of you shirtless only wearing a pair of boxers that sat low on his hips. You couldn’t help but stare at his toned body, your mind was lost in thought thinking about how good he looked standing around in just boxers.

“Are you checking me out?” he joked.

“I wasn’t,” you lied again.

Over the last week there had seemed to be quite a bit of sexual tension between you two. Back when you were in college you had slept together after a drunken night, and you had swore you would never talk about it after you woke up the next morning. Since you had been living together for a week you couldn’t help but think about the time you and Chan had slept together. You had fond memories of your night you spent together.

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch, we're grown adults, we can share the bed,” he held his hand out for you to take.

“Chan are you sure?” You asked, reaching for his hand.

Nodding his head, he led you off to his bed. Slowly you both crawled into bed. Chan moved to one side and you laid on the far side of the bed. You both laid on your sides. Your eyes stayed locked on him as he stared back at you.

“Do you ever think about that night in college?” You knew they agreed to never talk about that night, but after living with him for a week you needed to know. You were curious if he thought about your night together.

He nodded his head, “I do.”

You sighed, “I do too.”

Reaching your hand out you rested it on top of Chan’s hands wondering why he was so good to you. You couldn’t help but wonder why he was your night and shining armor. He seemed to always be there for you, and never asked for anything in return.

“Why did nothing happen between us?” You had been wanting to ask him that question for years but could never gather the courage to actually ask him.

“Changbin was basically in love with you in college and I felt like I betrayed my friend,” he sighed. “Also we slept together right before you started dating that asshole William.”

Chan hated William; he was an asshole jock who cheated on you multiple times. He was one of your exes that did nothing but break your spirit.

“Changbin was in love with me?” You were caught off guard by this information. Back in college when you all met you were basically all best friends. You had a huge crush on Chan, but you didn’t realize Changbin had liked you.

“Yeah he was and if you ever tell him I said that I’ll call you a liar,” he said with a little laugh.

“Is he still in love with me?” You wondered what would have happened if you and Changbin had dated.

“I don’t think so. He hasn’t brought it up in years.”

“Well it’s good to know in college someone other than William wanted to get with a big girl,” you said thinking back to your college years when you struggled with your body image the most. You had zero confidence and went through stages of yo-yo dieting. It wasn’t until after you graduated you learned to love yourself and not care about what people think.

“First of all don’t talk about yourself like that,” he squeezed your hand. “Second of all there were other people who wanted you.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his comments and sarcastically said, “You know I totally had guys lining up to get with me.”

“You know we slept together right, and I was extremely attracted to you then and I sure as hell still am,” he rolled onto his back so he was looking at the ceiling.

Your eyes went wide, completely caught off guard by his words, “excuse me what?” You almost shouted.

“You can’t act like you didn’t know this,” he said coolly.

“Bang Chan you can’t play that comment off like it was nothing,” you sat up on the bed and stared at him still wide eyed.

“You were attracted to me then and you still are?” You were sitting on your knees.

“Why would I have sex with you if I wasn’t attracted to you?” He sat up.

Running your fingers through her messy hair you were trying to take in everything, “I don’t know we were both super freaking drunk.”

“Were you not attracted to me?” he asked, sounding slightly offended.

“Seriously you’re super handsome and funny obviously I was then and I still am.”

“It shouldn’t be shocking that I’m attracted to you.”

“You do realize I’m a bigger girl? I’m not the typical small girl that you normally date, right?”

“You do realize I still think about constantly getting my hands back on your curves right?” he asked, causing your cheeks to burn bright.

“You think about having sex with me again?” You asked completely caught off guard by his comment.

He nodded, not saying anything. He couldn’t believe he was openly giving this information to his best friend who he was sharing a bed with at that moment.

“Did you wanna maybe…” you paused and hesitated for a long moment because you were slightly scared you were going to get rejected.

“Wanna what?” he asked, turning towards you.

“What if we slept together again,” you sighed.

He pushed his eyebrows together processing what you had just asked him. You had just gone through a really nasty break up and this was probably your way of rebounding and no matter how badly he wanted to have sex with you he didn’t wanna be a rebound. If you actually slept together again it couldn’t just be casual sex to either of you.

“Okay you just hesitate so I’m gonna go to sleep and die of embarrassment,” you laid down quickly wanting to crawl off the bed and die.

“Wait,” he grabbed your arm.

“It’s fine Chan, sorry I asked.”

“I want to have sex with you really badly, but I don’t want this to be just rebound sex,” he sighed.

Pushing your eyebrows together you stared at him for a long moment and swallowed trying to figure out what exactly you said to him. “Chan..” you paused.

“It will happen again, don’t worry,” he let go of your arm and was silent for a moment.

“What is happening here?” You asked, confused by everything that was happening.

“We're gonna give you time to get over what happened with Jimmy and soon we’re gonna sleep together again,” he smiled.

You nodded your head

“Alright,” you said before biting your bottom lip.

“We aren’t going to rush this,” he smiled.

[…]

The sound of the rain outside of Chan’s apartment caused you to stir from your sound sleep. The feeling of Chan’s arm laying across your stomach made you to smile. Biting your bottom lip and looking over at Chan who was still sound asleep. Part of you wanted to move over and cuddle into Chan’s warm body. Yesterday the judge had granted you your restraining order against Jimmy. You were hoping that the papers were going to be delivered to Chan’s office today making it official.

The sound of Chan’s phone ringing caused him to pull his arm off of you. You quickly tried to slow your breathing down to attempting to act like you were asleep.

Picking up his phone he rasped, “yeah Changbin?” You loved the way his voice sounded in the morning. When he was still half asleep and groggy his voice had a rasp to it.

“Yeah go ahead and grab some bagels I’m heading in soon. I’ll probably bring (Y/N) with me,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile at the fact he planned on bringing you with him to work. Slowly you opened your eyes to see Chan setting his phone down on the nightstand.

“Good morning,” you said softly.

“Morning,” he said as he raked his fingers through his messy curls. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and then do you maybe want to go to work with me?” he asked as he started getting out of bed.

“Yeah I’ll go to work with you,” you said, stretching your stiff body.

Chan slowly made his way off towards the bathroom and you couldn’t help but stare at his tone back as he walked away.

Walking over to the rack of clothes you had in Chan’s apartment you attempted to find something to wear. You picked out a nice dress to wear that you could throw a cute coat over the top. Sliding your dress on you walked over and found a pair of black heels that would go nicely with the outfit. Recently since moving in with Chan you had started doing some secretary work for Chan and Changbin at their law office they shared. When you went into their office to help out you liked to look the part.

Walking into the kitchen you worked on making a pot of coffee, and trying to find something small to eat to hold yourself over until you got to the office where Changbin was going to have bagels for you.

The sound of Chan walking out of the bathroom caused you to look up. He walked over to his closet and started looking for something to wear

He pulled out a gray suit that was your favorite suit. As he started getting dressed you quickly looked away and started making yourself a cup of coffee.

As you started pouring the milk into the coffee Chan walked towards you and said, “smells good.”

“I love the smell of coffee,” you said simply as he lightly rested his hand on your lower back as he reached for his travel cup. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah me too,” you said smiling. There was something about Chan’s touch that just made you feel safe.

“Can you make me a cup in my travel cup?”

“Yeah of course,” you said, reaching for the cup he was holding.

“Are you okay if we take our coffee to go?” he asked with his hand still resting on your lower back.

“Yeah of course. Why don't you grab your bag and I’ll get your coffee ready?”

“Alright,” he said, walking over towards his night stand where his bag was sitting on the floor.

You finished making your coffee and walked over to Chan who was standing by the door.

“Let’s go,” you said, handing him his cup of coffee.

You walked the short distance to Chan and Changbin’s law firm. You stood right next to Chan the whole way there, you laughed and talked about Changbin’s love of bagels. You talked about how that was his go to food back in college.

Walking into Chan’s office you found Changbin sitting at his desk eating his bagel. You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

The three of you ate your bagels and joked around a little before the boys got to work. Sitting at a table in the boy’s office you typed away on your computer looking at studio apartments in the area.

“How are there still no good apartments around,” you sighed. You had been sleeping in Chan’s bed every night and the sexual tension between you had gotten so thick that you could cut it with a butter knife, or at least it was for you.

“We’ll find you a place,” Chan said, walking over and sitting across from you.

“Why is everything so damn expensive,” you rolled your eyes. “I just want a studio, I shouldn’t have to pay this much.”

“It’s like that all over the city,” Changbin said sitting down next to you.

“I’m in no hurry to kick you out,” Chan reached over and touched your hand.

Looking down at your hand and then looking up at him you smiled.

Changbin looked at both of you extremely confused on what was going on between you.

“Are you two sleeping together?” he questioned, sensing the new tension between you.

Your heart rate picked up and you pulled your hand away from his, while Chan was extremely calm and just simply said, “no Changbin.”

Pushing his eyebrows together, Changbin didn’t believe Chan. Especially since his question seemed to make you so nervous. He could definitely tell something was different between you and Chan since that night you had left Jimmy. He must have noticed Chan’s lingering touches, and your longing looks. Changbin knew that Chan had always been protective of you, and that right now he probably felt like he needed to protect you even more than normal.

“We aren’t,” you said awkwardly. You technically weren’t lying to him, you weren’t actually sleeping together yet. The key word being yet.

“Then why are you acting so weird around each other?” he asked, still pushing his eyebrows together again.

Shrugging your shoulders, you said, “Changbin I have had a really rough few weeks. I’m just acting weird in general.”

Your statement made Changbin go quiet and made Chan smile. The last two weeks had been an emotional roller coaster for you, and you had been so filled with stress working on getting a restraining order against Jimmy. There had also been a lot of sexual tension between the two of you. You hadn’t even kissed, you’ve just shared longing touches and longing looks coming from you. You thought about the feeling of Chan’s lips on yours almost every second of the day. You would find yourself staring at his lips fighting the urge to get up and kiss him.

The boys went back to work and in the middle of the afternoon the sound of a knock on the door caused all of you to look up. You stood up and went over to open the door. You found a post office worker standing on the other side of the door holding a large envelope.

“This is for (Y/N, Y/L/N),” the postal worker said.

“That’s me,” you said as your heart was racing. You knew exactly what this envelope held. You turned around to find both of the boys looking over at you. Changbin looked like he didn’t know what to say to you, and Chan looked like he was trying to focus on the tone in your voice. “I’m free,” your voice was shaky and you were on the verge of tears. You couldn’t even begin to explain how you felt suddenly.

You sat back down at the table and slowly you opened the envelope to find your official restraining order against Jimmy. He wasn’t ever going to be able to hurt you again, and you knew deep down inside if he ever broke this Chan and Changbin would be there to protect you.

“(Y/N) is that what I think it is?” Chan asked, reaching over and resting his hand on top of yours.

“I’m free,” you said as tears slid down your cheek. You didn’t want to cry, but in that moment, you were just relieved and couldn’t help the tears. His thumb rubbed against the top of your hand, the simple gesture made you smile. “He won’t be able to hurt me again.”

“Changbin, why don’t we call it an early day?” Chan asked, standing up. He knew him and Changbin had more work to do but right now he wanted to get you away from the office.

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” Changbin said standing up.

“Let’s head back to the apartment,” Chan said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

Looking up at him you softly said, “okay.”

Chan grabbed his bag and led you out of the office. As you got into the elevator you were joined by a handful of people which caused you to be pressed against each other. Your back was pressed against Chan’s tone torso and he had his free hand that wasn’t holding his bag resting on your curvy waist. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on Chan’s hand that was touching you. You didn’t want to think about Jimmy anymore. You didn’t want him to take up anymore of the space in your mind.

As the elevator doors opened and the people inside poured out you reached down and laced your finger with Chan’s and led him out of the elevator. He glanced down at your hands and then looked back up at you and gave you a smile.

The walk back to his apartment you were sharing was short. As you entered the apartment you let out a heavy sigh. Chan slowly shut the door and walked towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, knowing deep down inside you were going to be okay. You had a lot of thoughts going through your mind.

“Yeah I am,” you were okay as you were ever going to be. “Hey Chan?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he asked, sitting down.

“I’m ready,” you whispered. You finally felt free and you wanted nothing more to be held by Chan’s strong hands.

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly, reaching up to loosen his tie.

“Yes,” you said, walking towards him to help him take off his tie. As you removed his tie Chan moved his hands to rest on your round hips. Removing his tie, you lightly placed it on his bed. He moved his hand and rested it gently on your cheek. Lightly he tilted your face towards his. “Thank you for looking after me,” you said softly.

“I would do anything for you,” he moved his face down towards yours and rested his forehead against yours. “You mean so much to me, and I just want to keep you safe. I’m so sorry he was ever able to hurt you,” his voice sounded shaky. You know he’ll never forgive himself for not being able to protect his best friend. You can tell him until you’re blue in the face that there wasn’t anything he could have done and he’ll never believe you.

“Chan, nobody was able to protect me,” you sighed. “I should have left the first time he hit me,” a tear slid down your cheek. You blame yourself for Jimmy hitting you, you knew you should've seen the signs pointing to Jimmy becoming violent, but you were just blind to it. You didn’t even want to think there was a chance the man you loved could hurt you.

“I should have seen the signs this was happening, I saw you countless times after the first time he hit you. I should have noticed something was up,” he slid his thumb across your cheek removing the tear that had slid down.

Slowly he pressed his lips to yours for a slow longing kiss. His lips tasted better than you remembered, you felt as if they were made for yours. Your hands gripped his white dress shirt as your lips started moving together. Pulling your lips away from him, you reached up to push his jacket off.

“Nothing like that will ever happen to you again,” he stated.

The second his jacket was off you stepped away to remove your own coat. You took a second to remove your heels. You stood in front of him watching as he untucked his dress shirt and started unbuttoning it. As he removed his shirt your eyes locked onto his toned stomach. Your eyes traveled up to his face to find him smirking.

“Let’s get your dress off,” he said, stepping towards you. He reached for the hem of your dress and pulled over your head slowly. You stood in front of him in only your bra and panties. You would normally feel exposed but with him you didn’t. Reaching down you worked on removing his belt. You fumbled with it for a moment before he let out a soft laugh and removed your hands to remove his own belt. You stood there watching him as he removed his shoes and socks and pushed his dress pants off. The sight of him in nothing but a tight pair of boxer briefs was absolutely mouth watering.

His hands reached behind you and unhooked your bra. You both stood there in only your underwear with only a couple of inches between you.

“I’ve missed seeing you like this.” His lust hazed eyes traveled up and down your curvy body.

“Believe me I’m nothing special.” You sighed and looked down at your soft stomach. You were still dealing with the fact that you didn’t feel comfortable in your own skin.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, you are so beautiful,” he sighed before pressing his lips to yours again. Pulling his lips away from you he whispered, “you are the most beautiful person I have ever known.” His lips started kissing their way down your jaw. His touch was a mixture of wet kisses and light nips. You held your eyes closed tightly just enjoying the feeling of his touch.

“How do you know all the right things to say?” You asked with your eyes still held close.

“Because I have wanted to say them for a while,” he said as his lips ghosted your skin. He dropped down onto his knees in front of you and your eyes opened quickly as his fingers hooked into the top of your panties and slowly slid them down your thick thighs. Your breath hitched as he kissed your thighs.

“Chan,” you sighed.

“Yeah baby?” he asked looking up at you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked as you signaled for him to stand up. He stood up and he was standing in front of you again.

He pushed his eyebrows together and looked at you completely confused by your question. He just grabbed your hand and put it over his boxer-briefs that were strained against his very hard erection. “You’re the one who did that to me,” he said, smirking. “I don’t want to be with anyone else other than you right now.”

Reaching down for the top of his boxers you slid them down his tone thighs. You didn’t think you would get over the sight of him naked. Back in college he was extremely handsome and in shape, but now he was even more in shape. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered.

“Come here,” he said before crashing his lips into yours. As your lips moved together Chan strong hands moved down towards your round ass and pulled you close to his body. Slowly Chan started walking them backwards until Chan fell back on the bed and brought you down with him. He rolled you onto your sides and you pulled away from him and stared at him for a long moment. He moved to roll onto your back so he’s hovering over you. His lips captured one of your nipples while you moaned his name. Dragging his lips away from your skin he looked up at you and whispered, “spread your legs for me.”

His words made you even wetter at just the anticipation of what was to come. Sitting back on his hunches between her legs he lightly pushed your legs further apart. You tried to steady your breathing and stay calm as you watched him steadily pump his length. Your teeth caught the bottom lip.

His finger slid between your folds as did gentle circles around your sensitive nub, and you couldn’t help but whine wanting more than just his fingers on you. Removing his finger, he held his length and pressed his tip to your entrance. You gasped as he pushed into you. Your hands gripped the cotton sheets below you. His hands gripped your round hips as he rocked his hips into your core. Your head rolled back and you moaned as he pushed fully inside you. He stilled for a moment and rubbed your clit earning another moan from you.

“I need you close,” you moaned.

“Okay,” he rasped as he held himself still inside you as moved his body so he was hovering over you. Connecting his lips to yours he started to roll his hips against yours again. Your hands gripped at his strong back he thrust into you. He couldn’t help but groan at how tight you were.

“You feel so good baby,” he groaned with his lips ghosting your shoulder as he continued to push into you.

“Please don’t stop,” you whined.

Your nails clawed at his back holding him close to you. The sex in college had been fun and sloppy, but this was a whole different thing. This was filled with passion and lust. You couldn’t seem to get enough of each other as his teeth nipped at your shoulder.

“Chan,” you whined. You weren't sure if you knew any other words than Chan’s name at the moment.

You panted and whined as he pushed you over the edge. Your walls pulled at his length as he came inside you. He stilled in you completely as you whined riding out your own high. Removing himself from you he rolled onto his back attempting to catch his own breath.

“I needed that so much,” you sigh.

He reached over to pull you closer to him. You curled up next to him and rested your head on his chest. Silently you laid there just enjoying your post sex bliss.

“That was better than college,” he softly laughed.

“That was way better than college.”

Leaning down he lightly kissed the top of your head. You couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for you. You thought it was obvious that the both of you had feelings for each other, but you weren't sure when you should actually talk about them.

“Maybe we could take a nap and then order some Chinese food,” he said as his hand ran up and down your spine.

“That would be great,” you said as you curled up closer to him.

[…]

The feeling of his lips on your skin drove you mad in the best way possible. Chan laid on the couch with you sitting in between his legs. He wore nothing but his boxers and you in nothing but your bra and panties. Chan’s lips were attached to your neck sending a shiver down your spine. He peppered kisses across your skin, and occasionally nipped at the sensitive skin causing you to giggle.

Pulling away from him you looked at him and just smiled. You had just slept together and you couldn’t wait to have sex with him again. He made you feel like you were the only person on the earth that mattered to him, and it made your heart flutter.

“Why are you smiling at me?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

“How do you know I’m smiling? I’m not even facing you?”

“Because I know you,” he spoke softly as he reached his hand up and rested it on yours and he brushed the pad of his thumb against the corner of your mouth. “Why don’t we go back to bed?” he asked. He couldn’t seem to get enough of you at the moment, and he didn’t think at this point he would ever get enough of you. He wasn’t sure how you had managed to wait so many years since that drunken college night.

“Alright,” you whispered, reaching over and lacing your fingers with his. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, you seemed to make him happy.

Standing up you pulled Chan’s hand and helped him up, you led him over to the bed, and stopped right at the foot of the bed. You placed your hand on his strong chest signaling for him to stop. He didn’t say anything, he just stopped in place curious to what you had planned. Silently you dropped to your knees in front of him. You couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip as your fingers hooked into the top of his boxers.

“What are you doing?” he asked as you slid his boxers down his strong thighs. You didn’t say anything, you just slowly licked his length causing him to groan. He sure didn’t expect you to start going down on him. If he remembered properly from your drunken night together you had confessed to him you hated giving head. As you took him in your mouth he was confused on how some who hated doing this was so good at it. Your hands gripped his base as you slowly bobbed your head against him. He closed his eyes holding back a moan as you dragged your tongue against the underside of his length. It was taking everything in him not to tangle his fingers in your hair and help her movement. You hummed with him in your mouth and he just about came right there. His fingers tangled in your messy locks and lightly tugged trying to signal for you to stop.

“Baby,” he moaned. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you don’t stop,” he groaned.

You released him with a pop and looked up at him enjoying the sight of him on the edge. Standing in front of him you reached behind yourself and undid your bra. He was still standing there with the same grin plastered on his face. “Did you enjoy that?” You asked, reaching down and taking his hand.

“Words can’t explain how great that was,” he said, smiling. “I thought you said you hated doing that?” he asked, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

You placed his hand on your breast and said, “I used to hate doing it but remember that frat guy William I dated back in college after we hooked up?”

“Unfortunately, I remember him,” he said as his hand started massaging your breast.

“Well he liked getting head more than having sex, so I got pretty good at it,” you said, remembering back to your time in college. You were really starting to regret not telling Chan how you really felt about him back then.

“I hated that guy,” he groaned.

“I hated him in the end too, but at least got good at doing that,” you said with a little laugh.

“Okay I don’t want to hear about your asshole ex anymore,” he said before closing the distance between you. His lips were intoxicating to you, they were like a drug you couldn’t get enough of. His hands moved from your breast to your round hips. He held you close, as your lips moved together.

Pulling away from him you grinned and took a step back. He wasn’t ready for that kiss to be over and he rasped, “I wasn’t done.”

You worked on removing your panties so Chan wasn’t the only naked one, “patience.”

Chan took this as his cue to crawl onto his unmade bed. Sitting in the middle of the bed he waited for you to join him. “Close your eyes Channie,” you wanted to tease him.

“I hope you’re naked,” he said, causing you to laugh.

“You can find out in a second,” you crawled onto the bed. For some reason being with Chan gave you a sense of confidence you had never actually had before. Crawling on your hands and knees you made your way to Chan who connected his lips to yours for a kiss that was filled with a sense of hunger. He wasted no time rolling you over so he was resting on top of her as their lips moved together.

He opened his eyes and couldn’t help but feel the love behind them. Pulling away from you he settled himself between your legs. “Are you ready?” he rasped.

“Yes,” you sighed.

He thrust into you painfully slowly, he gripped your round hips holding onto you as he rolled his hips. You reached up and gripped his ass attempting to speed up his thrust. “Let’s take it slow baby girl,” he rasped. Just the mention of him calling you baby girl almost sent you over the edge. Chan had always been flirty with you, and quite touchy, but he had never really called her anything other than your name before you moved in with him. Him giving you a pet name in the middle of sex made your heart race.

“Just like that,” you sighed, moving your hand up to his shoulder blade to pull him closer to you. You needed him to put his lips on yours, and you just needed him closer. When you were having sex with him you just wanted him to be as physically close as possible to you. His lips connected to your as your nails scratched his back holding onto him. You couldn’t hold back your moans as you moaned into his kiss.

Chan was a man who knew his way around a woman's body, and it drove you mad. He pulled his lips away from yours and you moaned his name loudly. His pace picked up as you hooked your leg over his hip giving him a new angle.

“I’m close,” you moaned.

His lips attached to your neck as he pushed you over the edge. You held your eyes close tight as you rode out our high. He panted as thrust into you holding off his own high. Your eyes open to find him staring at you with a sense of hunger. The way he was staring at you turned her on so much.

You pushed on his chest signaling for him to stop, his hips still and he panted trying to catch his breath. He was so close to his own high it wasn’t going to take much more.

“Why are we stopping?” he panted, still inside you.

“How do you want to end this?” You asked knowing that the missionary was considered boring, you liked clinging to him as you came, but you wondered what he wanted.

“Baby…” he trailed off as if he was trying to figure out what to say to you. “I’m not trying to fuck you senseless, this isn’t just sex this is different. I want to savor every moment with you.”

You were trying to wrap your mind around what he had just said to you, you weren't sure what was going on with you two. You knew you weren’t together but you were pretty sure you were in love with the man that was still inside of you. His words led you to believe that he had feelings for you too.

“What does that mean?” You reached up and rested her hand on his cheek.

“I would like to finish making love to you and then we can talk,” he said as his hips slowly started moving again.

Your eyes brimmed with tears as thrust into you slowly over and over again. You didn’t want to cry but what he said made you quite emotional for some reason. Chan seemed to care about you more than anyone you had ever been with. It didn’t take much before he finished. He stilled in you for a moment and leaned down and connected his lips to yours for a soft kiss.

He rolled off you and laid on his back with a smile on his face, he didn’t seem to notice that his words seemed to have knocked your world on its side. You laid on your side staring at Chan feeling extremely confused. Part of you want to jump out of bed and just run away. You wanted Chan and you to be together, but suddenly you were terrified of your feelings for him. You had been burned by love so many times, and you knew nobody would ever care for you like Chan did, but you were still scared.

Chan reached his hand over and rested it on your chest as you looked up at the ceiling trying to figure out what you needed to say. “Why does your heart feel like it's about to burst from your chest?” he asked, still trying to catch his own breath.

“Because I’m still coming down from that orgasm,” it wasn’t the full truth, but technically you weren't lying to him.

Chan could tell by your tone something was wrong, he wasn’t sure what caused you to start freaking out but he needed to know.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you said, attempting to escape this conversation. Crawling out of bed you quickly went to the bathroom. You left Chan laying on his bed very confused.

Walking into the bathroom you turned on the water and waited a minute to heat up before stepping in. You were hoping that the warm water was going to wash away anxiety you suddenly had about you and Chan talking about your relationship. You stood under the warm water closing your eyes trying to figure out if you and Chan could even work as a couple. For so long you had thought often about what it would be like to be with Chan.

You opened your eyes at the sound of the sliding glass door opening. You found Chan standing in front of you.

“Why did you just lie to me and then run away from me after we had sex?” he asked.

You swallowed and knew you were going to have to tell him how you actually feel about him. Pushing some of the water from her face you said, “because what you said scared me.”

He pushed his eyebrows together confused, “what scared you?” You could tell he was wondering if you suddenly regretted sleeping together.

“That you said it wasn’t just normal sex,” you whispered as your eyes once again started to brim with tears.

He stepped closer and reached down and took your hand in his, “is that all you thought this was with us?” You knew he was probably afraid to hear your answer. You had waited to have sex because he didn’t want to just be a rebound, and he cared more about you then he had ever cared for anyone.

“I didn’t think you actually saw me as more than a friend,” you whispered.

“(Y/N) you can’t be serious?” he said, taking another step towards you. He was now standing under the water with you and there was only like two inches separating you. You were silent, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “I wouldn’t have slept with you just to have casual sex. I value our friendship too much to do that. I care so much for you,” he reached up and placed his hand on your cheek. His words were causing your stomach to twist in knots.

“Chan, I think I love you,” you whispered, afraid to actually say it out loud. “I think I’ve loved you since that night in college.

“You think?” he asked as his thumb gently brushed your cheek as he had his hand still resting on your cheek.

You nodded your head. You knew if you spoke again you were going to break down and cry, suddenly you were so overcome by your emotions.

“I love you too,” he smiled.

You couldn’t help but start to cry, you had been through so much recently with Jimmy hitting you. Between you getting your restraining order and Chan taking care of you. You suddenly felt like an emotional mess, you were crying even though his words made you happy.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, sounding worried.

“Because I was scared you didn’t feel the same way,” you whispered.

He didn’t bother saying anything; he just leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. The sound of the front door opening caused you both to jump apart.

“Did Changbin just come?” You whispered praying this wasn’t how Changbin was going to find out.

“Yeah,” Chan said, nodding his head.

“What the hell do we do?” You asked, praying Changbin wasn’t gonna walk into the bathroom. “I’m gonna go out there and talk to him.”

He slowly opened the sliding door. You reached down and grabbed his hand signaling for him not to leave yet. “Please don’t tell him I’m in here with you. Lie and tell him I’m out and then go to the bar with him. I'll meet you there.”

“(Y/N) are you ashamed of me?” he asked with a little laugh.

You rolled your eyes, “Chan I would prefer he doesn’t find out about us by walking in right after we had sex,” you said sternly letting go of his hand.

“Alright, I’ll see you at the bar in thirty minutes,” He leaned forward and gave you a quick kiss.

He grabbed a towel off the hanger and wrapped it around his waist before walking towards the living area to find Changbin sitting on the couch.

“Hey Changbin,” Chan said, running his finger through his wet hair.

“Where is (Y/N)?” he asked.

“She ran to the store, what’s up?” Chan asked, trying to change the subject.

“I was going to ask if you guys wanted to go to the bar and celebrate the fact that she got her restraining order,” Changbin asked, not bothering to question what you went to the store for. “Why is her bra on the floor?” Changbin asked, looking over at the foot of the bed.

Chan shook his head lightly and wanted to laugh at the fact that you forgot to pick up your bra, but then again, you weren’t exactly expecting company. “She was probably changing before heading out while I took a shower,” he lied.

Changbin shook his head, “telling me why (YN) didn’t come live with me.” He joked, “how is your back not killing you from sleeping on his hard couch?”

Chan shrugged his shoulders knowing damn well he hadn’t slept on the couch, that you and him had been sharing the bed long before you even had sex.

“I’m gonna get dressed and then we’ll head off to the bar, and we can call (Y/N) on the way and tell her to meet us there,” Chan said walking off towards his closet. He grabbed something casual to wear before heading off to the bathroom.

As soon as he walked inside he waited for you to say something. He turned on the bathroom sink attempting to make some noise so they could talk for a second.

“Do you just want to go out there now and tell him or do you want to keep up the lie until the bar?” he asked, reaching out and grabbing her hand.

“He’s gonna freak out,” you whispered knowing that Changbin wasn’t going to take this well.

“Yeah he’s gonna freak out if he finds out another way,” he whispered back as he started getting dressed.

“I’ll meet you at the bar and we’ll work this out there,” you said, sitting down on top of the toilet and watching as Chan got dressed. You couldn’t help but admire his body as he got dressed in front of you. Before leaving he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss goodbye. “I’ll call you in five so hurry and get dressed.”

Chan took off with Changbin towards the bar, and less than five minutes away Chan called you and told you to meet him at the bar. You quickly blow-dried your hair and got dressed so you could meet the boys at the bar.

You found them sitting in a booth with beer sitting in front of them. The second you got to the table Changbin jumped up and pulled you into a tight hug.

“What did you go to the store for?” Changbin asked as you slid into the booth next to Chan.

“I needed more shampoo and conditioner,” you lied.

Chan rested his hand on your thigh causally and gave it a light squeeze. You wanted to look over at him, but you didn’t want Changbin to notice what was happening.

“What did you want to drink?” Changbin asked as the waitress walked towards the table.

“I’ll take a cranberry and vodka,” you said.

“Okay hun,” the waitress said before walking off towards the bar.

“What did you guys do this evening?” Changbin asked casually before taking a drink of his beer.

Chan gave your thigh a squeeze as he said, “we ordered Chinese food and just hung out. Oh, and (YN) took a nap when we first got home,” Chan said it like it was no big deal that he had left out the major detail that you had also had sex a couple times.

“Sounds fun,” Changbin said sarcastically.

“I personally enjoy naps,” you said with a laugh.

Chan slowly rubbed his thumb against the inside of your thigh, it was a simple gesture but his touch was making her stomach fill with butterflies. Not even an hour ago you had admitted you loved each other and suddenly you were trying to act normal.

The waitress came over and sat your drink down in front of you and you gave her a quick thank you. You took a big drink attempting to get a little bit of courage because you knew you needed to tell Changbin that something was going on with Chan because you knew that he was gonna get pissed if you hid it from him any longer.

“So Changbin,” you hesitated. You weren't sure what exactly you should say to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I’m in love with Chan,” you just blurted it out because you weren't exactly sure what else to say. Changbin’s eyes just went really wide and he looked at you like you had two heads or something. It probably had something to do with the fact that you stated it like Chan had no clue.

Leaning his head forwards trying to process what you said he looked over at Chan who seemed extremely unfazed by your sudden statement.

“Chan, did you hear her?” Changbin asked, still confused.

Chan nodded his head, “yeah I did.”

You felt like you might faint suddenly. You weren't exactly sure why she stated it like that but you felt like you had gotten an adrenaline rush. You just stared at Changbin wondering how much he was going to freak out.

“Are you guys together?” Changbin asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

“We don’t know,” you said, realizing that you and Chan hadn’t exactly talked about that.

Chan squeezed her thigh again and said, “yeah I like to think we are.”

You looked over at him and smiled, your heart couldn’t help but race a little.

“Wait, did you guys lie to me when I asked if you were sleeping together?” Changbin asked, feeling slightly offended that you lied to him.

“No, we didn’t lie to you,” Chan said. “We talked about our feelings today,” he took his hand off your thigh and took your hand and laced his fingers with yours.

“I swear to God Chan if you break her heart, I’ll break your nose,” Changbin said, causing you and Chan to laugh. “Wait, is that why (Y/N’s) bra and underwear were on the floor…” Changbin's face dropped at his realization. “Did I almost walk in on you?” Changbin asked, suddenly feeling gross.

You scrunch your face up at the thought of Changbin walking in on you having sex. “Yeah you came kind of close,” you sighed.

“I would never be able to get that image out of my head,” he said, shaking his head at just the thought.

You and Chan couldn’t help but laugh.

The three of you hung out in the bar for a couple hours before you and Chan headed back up to Chan’s place. You walked inside holding hands, and you couldn’t help but feel happy and safe with Chan.

“Thank you so much for taking care of me,” you smiled, stepping towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and just smiled at him. Your lips connected for a soft kiss.

“I hope you don’t plan on moving out anytime soon,” he said with a little laugh.

“I’ll stay until you kick me out,” you laughed.

“I love you so much,” he smiled.

“I love you too Bang Chan,” you said resting your forehead against his.

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form, I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fanfic #my writing #skz #skz fanfiction #skz smut #bang chan imagine #bang chan au #Changbin #Christopher bang #stray kids

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chqnverse · 7 months

Text

𖥻 my darling

♡┊ 𝐂𝐇𝐐𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 ; bangchan

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 :: chan enjoys some time with his family

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 :: none besides very cute chan

Chan was walking up and down the practice room with his son in his arms who was sobbing his little heart out. Jun was 8 months old and such a sweet boy but sometimes he got a little bit fussy when his mother wasn’t there. Chan bounced the little boy slightly while kissing his son’s head whispering sweet nothings in his ear. You asked chan to take care of Jun for today so you could go out with your daughter and chan obviously agreed. He knew how hard it was for you to mostly take care of your son and Daughter and chan. He appreciated how you would make him dinner when he worked longer and always put a cute note beside the dish.

Chan heard the door open and Felix walks in holding some strawberries in a tiny bowl. Jun turns his head to Felix looking at the bowl with his big brown eyes. Jun was basically a copy of his father from the tiny curls on his head to the soft freckles on his cheeks he even has a similar lip shape, Although chan insisted that Jun has your nose. “Thank you Felix” chan said softly sitting down on the sofa with Jun in his lap his tiny body resting against his chest. Jun recently found his new love for strawberries so as soon as he saw the red fruit in the bowl his tears stop and he makes grabby hands to his uncle.

Felix smiled down at the tiny boy. While Chan holds his son to make sure he doesn’t accidentally hurt himself, Felix held out a tiny peace of strawberry. Jun stared at it before slowly grabbing the fruit in his little fist, he opened his tiny mouth and shoves the fruit in giggling when he tasted the sweet flavour. Chan smiles down at his son as Jun moves his arms around wildly. “Is it tasty baby?” Chan ask in a high pitched voice making Jun squeal his tears now long forgotten. Felix hands Jun another strawberry but instead of eating it himself like the last one Jun holds up the fruit to chan looking at his father with wide eyes. Chan’s heart melted “is that for me junieee” he said in a shocked voice. Jun shoves the peace of strawberry against his father’s mouth to signal him to eat it. Chan smiles and takes the peace of fruit nibbling on his son’s fingers to tease him.

Jun whines at his father’s teasing and makes grabby hands to his uncle, Felix waisted no time and took the little boy in his arms and hands him the bowl with strawberries. Chan smiles at the cute interaction between his best friend and son, he thinks it’s cute the way his son holds Felix finger in his tiny fist while shovelling tiny cut strawberry in his mouth. The door opens and chan watches as you and your daughter walk in the room his daughter quickly making her way over and cuddling in his chest “Daddy we went shopping and mommy got me new hair clips look” Mira points at the butterfly hair clips that sit in her braids. Chan smiles and kisses her cheek “you look beautiful Mimi” he tucks a curl behind her ear and kisses her forehead.

Jun had lost interest in his half empty bowl and was now completely engrossed in the sight of his Mother as he stares at you. You lean down and take Jun in your arms pressing kisses all over his cheeks. Jun was giggling loudly his tiny hands on your cheeks. Chan was staring at you in complete awe as Mira sat beside Felix and telling him about her new hair butterfly clips. Felix praising her and telling her how pretty she looks. Chan stands up and walks to you putting his arms around you and your son. You could see that Jun was getting sleepy so you patted his tiny back while humming lowly. Chan presses a loving kiss on your lips.

You let yourself get distracted by your husband’s lips until you heard your daughter scream “ewww daddy and mommy are kissing…no kissing you’re only allowed to kiss me” she said proudly pointing at herself. You and chan laughed. Chan kneels down and opens his arms for his daughter who didn’t waist a second to rub in her father arms snuggling into his comforting warmth she knew so well. “Let’s get home baby I think someone is tired” you said kissing Jun’s cheek. Jun nuzzles is head further in the comfort of his mother. Chan agrees and after saying good bye to Felix you both went home.

When chan opens the door to your home carefully pushing it open with his foot his sleeping daughter in his arms while you carried Jun. While you went to change your son into his clothes being careful to not wake him up chan did the same to mira carefully putting her in her bear pj’s, before putting her in her bed making sure to cover her in her favourite blanket. Chan turns on her night light that was shaped like a moon before slowly leaving her room. He doesn’t fully close the door in case she has a nightmare. When Chan walks into the kitchen he sees you standing in front of the Stove cooking dinner for you and him, he couldn’t help but smile even if you weren’t wearing any makeup and your hair tied in a messy bun wearing only his oversized sweater you where still the most beautiful woman in the world to him. So he slowly moves towards you and puts his strong arms around your waist nuzzling his face in your neck enjoying your natural scent. You hum and turn your face to press a kiss on his nose making him laugh shyly. Chan loves your affection because you don’t need to talk much and understand each other without much words. “Go sit down Darling dinner is almost done you need to eat” you said softly nudging him towards the table.

Chan complies easily and sits down his eyes following your every move in case you needed his help. You walk over to the large table and put down a bowl noodles in front of him and some chopsticks beside it. Chan smiles at you and leans over to press a sweet kiss on your lips as a thank you. Suddenly chan hears his son’s soft whines for attention so he quickly gets up and walks over to where Jun had previously been sleeping, he carefully picks him up and holds him secure to his chest before making his way back to you. You’re looking at Chan with so much admiration while holding your arms out to take your son from him “give him to me Darling you should eat” you said while taking your son carefully from him. Jun quickly calming down when he notices his mother holding him, you take the pacifier from the table and offer it to your son. Jun quickly starts to slowly suck on the pacifier while his tiny hands are busy playing with the material of the sweater you’re wearing.

Chan watches as you entertain your son while eating his dinner with a smile on his pretty lips.

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facioleeknow · 3 months

Text

Always right ° Bang Chan

You and Chan are at a party and things get very steamy ;)

WC: 1263 Genre: College AU, smut 18+ ONLY

TW: drinking, partying, dry humping, talks of sex, tipsy chan and reader, chan cums in his pants and he is very hot, mention of masturbation, sort of public sex

A/N: this mf lifts 140kg, he's insane and he wants me dead. Also reblogs and comments are highly appreciated since I am running a little low on confidence and inspiration, thank you <3.

The party was officially over. Red solo cups laid on the floor, abandoned and crinkled. The music was faint and so were the lights, if you weren’t so close to Chan you wouldn’t have been able to see him clearly. You and him were the only ones left at his house, at least the only ones awake. One or two people were sprawled down on the pool chairs, fully passed out, last time you checked.

Chan gave off heat in waves, his warmth seeped into your bones, giving you a sense of tranquility and helping you with the chilly night air coming from the open window. A half empty bottle of soju was passed between you two, every sip made you more lightheaded and warm. Your cheeks shined a bright red and your eyes twinkled.

An invisible bubble wrapped around you, making the intimacy in the air even more pronounced. Rivers of words flew out of your mouth with ease; you could never stop talking when you were together, a gift from being friends for a decade.

“What would you do if you were a man for a day?” asked Chan with a giggle when you made a face.

“Ew, I would never want to be a man for a day, that’s nasty.”

“It’s just a what if situation,” he giggled even more at your antics.

“Honestly?” you looked at him, with your lips pursed.

“Honestly,” he was now facing you. His red cheeks matched yours, a wide grin on his face.

“I would beat my meat the whole day.”

Chan choked on the liquor, a loud laugh resonating in his chest.

“You’re a pervert.”

“I’m not,” you argued, “being a woman and cumming most of the time are not compatible things. And also, don’t pretend like you wouldn’t spend the whole day with a hand down your pants if you were a woman,” you quipped back.

“Alright you got me, but I would do it for science, so I could pleasure my hook ups more,” he stated matter of factly. Your face must have reflected how unimpressed you were because Chan giggled once more and sipped at the bottle of alcohol.

“What about communication, Christopher? Maybe if you want to know what a girl likes, you should ask her.”

“You’re right.”

“As always.”

Giggles escaped both of your lips. He was even closer to you now, his breath tickled your face; you swore you saw his eyes glance down at your lips and then up again at your eyes, but then again it could’ve been the liquor talking.

“Have you got any more silly questions or what ifs for me?” his eyes weren’t your main focus anymore, your eyes were glued to his lips. The plush flesh of his bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, a smile still present.

“Are you attracted to me?” You huffed at the boy’s question.

“That’s a dumb question, Christopher. You are a handsome and muscly man who is also very caring and kind, every girl in our college is attracted to you.”

His eyes twinkled, from the alcohol and in amusement. He put the bottle down next to him.

“Are you though?”

“As I said, every girl in our college is attracted to you, and I am a girl in college, so..” you trailed off. Chan’s warm hand found the expanse of your thigh, his thumb gently rubbed your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat but you contained yourself, skinship wasn’t unusual for you two, especially since he was a real cuddle bug.

“Then,” he face was so near yours that your noses almost touched, “are you sexually attracted to me?”

His words shocked you and you slightly widened your eyes. His wicked side only came out once in a while, but you have always enjoyed it. If Christopher wanted to play then you would do the same.

“Are you?” Your eyes fixed on each other’s faces, trying to see who would break first.

“Should we fuck?” you giggled loudly. Something shifted in Chan’s eyes after your question, they became dark and full of lust. You had never seen him like that, but you couldn't say that you minded.

“I thought you would never ask, baby.”

His big hands wrapped around your waist and carefully lifted you in his lap. The move felt effortless, your weight didn’t affect him at all, you were as light as a kitten. That made you incredibly wet, the gym had definitely paid off.

“You said communication is important, tell me what to do then baby,” his lips inched closer and closer to your ear. A delicate kiss was placed behind your earlobe and it made your pussy throb with need. You should’ve been ashamed at how fast you were getting worked up but it was Chris who was working you up and also you were way too horny to care.

“Kiss me please.”

The boy under you slowly reached for your lips and laid a chaste, soft kiss on your awaiting lips. His lips were soft and plump, they felt heavenly, you couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like on your pussy, wrapped around your little clit,

The kiss was fast and sweet but soon after came a second and a third and soon your lips were molded together. His tongue peaked out of his lips and licked at your bottom lip. A series of huffs and whimpers came out of both of you, the air around you felt sticky and stuffy.

You didn’t realize that your hips had started to move until Chan held your hips in place.

“What do you want , baby? Communication, remember?” he sounded cocky. You whined at his words, there was no need to be a smartass.

“Please Channie, let me grind on you.” He finally slacked the bruising grip on your hips and let you move back and forth on his lap. A prominent and promising boner pressed against your hot clothed core. The stimulation wasn’t enough to let you see stars but it sent tingles of pleasure up and down your spine, besides Chan’s huffs and puffs were better than anything you had ever experienced in your life.

The boy threw his head back against the cushion of the couch, giving you free access to his tempting neck. Your lips latched onto his pulse point and started to suck gently, occasionally biting and then licking the area. Your hips sped up in their rhythm as wetness collected on your folds and soiled your panties.

“Oh god, baby, is it bad if I already want to cum?” he asked with a guttural moan. His ears and cheeks bright red, his eyes screwed shut.

“No Channie, go ahead:”

Your lips trailed a sensual path up and down his neck. Cold hands made their way up his shirt and trailed over his lower belly, abs and then landed on his pecs. Your fingers pushed and circled around his hardened nipples, a whine coming out of Chan’s mouth.

The moment you pinched his nipples, hard, the boy knew he was over. He scrunched up his face in pleasure and his muscles contracted. Hot spurts of cum came out of him quickly, coating and effectively ruining his favorite pair of pants and underwear. His breath was labored when he looked at you, face flushed and slightly sweaty. You looked like a goddess.

“You didn’t cum,” he stated, his voice strained.

“You did, though, so I think I deserve a reward for it.”

Chan giggled breathlessly and slapped your hip playfully.

“You’re right, as always.”

Taglist: @kflixnet @bahng-chrizz @hann1bee

#straykidsland #kpop #reader insert #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #stray kids college au #bang chan college au #bang chan au #chan x reader #chan smut #chan au

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astralis-ortus · 15 days

Text

against the world

✱ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader

— for as long as i love you.

w.count → 2k genre → angst, fluff, a dash of comedy warnings → reader mocked by a character, self deprecating thought a.n → based on this request! took me a while to figure how to write because brain did not want to work together with the pictures i had in mind but we're here! it's a fun one to work on (despite the angst)(i actually love the angst) and i hope it's up to your expectation!<3 ⋆ see masterlist

the bus ride felt like forever.

honestly, you weren’t even sure why you ended up arguing with chan in the first place. hell, you couldn’t even remember what even really irked you about his response. all you remembered was about feeling upset and ended up lashing out at chan to the point where he decided to head back to his studio despite just coming back the hour prior, just so he doesn’t say anything he might regret.

when he still hadn’t returned hours later, however, guilt started to dig its sharp nails into your sore heart.

you knew you had to let him cool his head—you understand that, but you can’t sit still knowing he’d likely lock himself in and drown himself in work. you can’t, especially when you knew for a fact he hadn’t got anything to eat since you two were planning to go on a date had the argument never happened. he hasn’t been on top of his condition as is, and you won’t be able to forgive yourself if this whole absolute ridicule of a situation you caused made him fall sick.

hence, after your nth call went straight to his voicemail, you know there’s only one thing left you could do—go to his studio and apologize.

“thank you,�� you offered a smile at the familiar security guard, bowing your head enough as you entered through the trainee and artist entrance of the building. usually, either you or chan would offer him a snack or coffee whenever you got there together, but with all the chaos happening inside your head, all you could remember to grab was the light meal you had hurriedly prepared for chan as an apology.

“bang chan is still in his studio,” the security guard quietly informed with a knowing smile, abruptly stopping you in your track with your eyes wide at him, “most of the staff, trainee, and artist have left for the day, but you could let me know if you need access to the rooftop. the weather is good enough for you to talk there.”

you blinked at his offer, a little stunned at the conclusion he took just by looking at you. is it that obvious…?

“it’s going to be okay; fights are bound to happen between couples,” he continued lightly with a tender smile, as if reading the thoughts passing your mind, “as long as you love and care about each other, there’s nothing you two can’t handle. don’t worry.”

choking up a breath, you hurriedly thanked the security guard and walked past the familiar hallways leading to your boyfriend’s studio. tears were pooling dangerously in your eyes, threatening its way out as you replayed the passing advice in your head. he’s right—as long as you love and care about each, there’s—

“hey! you! stop right there!”

the loud echoing voice snapped you out of your thoughts, again halting your steps before you reached your destination. despite your racing heartbeat at the sudden loudness, you try your best to seek for the other soul around—leading your eyes to land at a female figure at the end of the hallway.

“oh,” you immediately bowed your head as soon as you noticed the identity of the staff rushed towards you—one you recognize as a part of division 2, according to an exchange she had with chan a few months prior during one of your visits. “hello, i just—”

“who are you? how do you get in here?” the sharpness in her voice made you wince; startled and confused. you’re certain she’s aware of your presence before—distinctly remembering how chan awkwardly introduced you as to her own request, understandably wary of an unfamiliar face lurking around a private section of the company.

“right,” you shook your head, ridding your mind off of the uneasiness you picked up, “sorry, you probably don’t remember. i’m chan’s girlfriend. we met a couple months ago? i remember chan introdu—”

“girlfriend?” she scoffed, not even letting you finish your sentence. the way she shut you off left a sharp sting in your heart, but even that wouldn’t compare to the way her icy gaze pierced right through you—pricking and prodding every inch of your appearance, finalized with a condescending snicker.

“another crazy fan, huh?”

you felt your heart sink at the accusation. dating chan, you knew it would come with the bad alongside the good. you understood that, and you knew better than anyone to focus on the flowers and butterflies chan made your everyday look like while paying zero attention to the odd snarky remarks here and there. though it sure has been quite some time since the last time someone accused you of being delusional, but to be completely honest with yourself, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

fingers tighten around the strap of chan’s meal bag on your hand, you try hard not to let yourself crumble as you attempted to defend yourself, “no, i’m not—”

“besides,” cutting you short, she took a step closer and shoved her fingers on your shoulder, “you need to wake up. why would chan even date someone like you?”

you know you’re not perfect. you know that despite the amount of love you have for chan, there’s no promise of a perfect future between the two of you. you know that there’s a possibility of a life where you have to live without chan, and the blame will most likely be on you—because you’re not pretty enough. you’re not talented enough. you’re not someone of a similar background. you’re not even anywhere close to being on chan’s level, and it’s all because you’re you.

“seriously, get a grip,” she hissed, digging her fingers onto the bone of your shoulder while you desperately bit your lip, trying to contain the tears threatening to fall. “you’re just some lowly, delusional fan. don’t even—”

“don’t even what, noona?”

both you and the staff immediately snapped your eyes towards the figure behind her; heavy, firm steps towards you with his jaw tense and a silent rage burning in his eyes. she immediately scrambled away from you, hiding her hands—ones nearly pushing you to an endless canyon of despair.

you’ve never seen chan that angry.

“i-i just—”

“she’s my girlfriend,” chan emphasized through gritted teeth, taking your freezing hand in his trembling one, “and you do not talk to my woman like that.”

“i was just looking out for you!” she attempted to defend herself, fear present in her eyes as she attempted to look straight into chan’s eyes. “you know how crazy these sasaengs have been these days! i just—”

“stop!”

your body involuntarily jumped at the sudden raise in his voice, eyes wide as you looked at him in surprise. his face was red—but even from your point of view, you could see he was hurt.

“no one gave you the right to talk to my people like that,” chan towered against her as he makes himself clear, "especially towards my woman. you don’t—”

“channie,”

your voice was soft, but it was enough to quiet down the anger burning inside chan. yes—his priority is to keep you safe.

shifting his attention entirely towards you, chan felt his heart drop—your eyes were red, trails of tears apparent down your cheeks. your fingers were ice cold against his burning skin, and the way he felt your body tremble broke his heart.

“baby,” chan cracked a weak smile, trying to ease the tension on you as he ran his palms against your arm, “are you okay? need me to carry you?”

you quickly shook your head, sniffles escaping past your lips as your nerves slowly calmed down. you’re just so, so tired—and all you need is chan.

“let’s head to my studio, okay?” his voice was soft, arms wrapped around your frail figure as he leads you down the empty hallway, leaving the still stunned staff behind. he’ll deal with that tomorrow; because now, your well-being mattered most to him.

as soon as you got to chan’s studio, he immediately locked the familiar green room and covered you up with a blanket—ones he kept especially for you, keeping you warm as he quietly cuddled you on the small couch. your faint sniffles turned into sobs, and as the sense of safety finally settled in your bones, you finally let yourself cry into chan’s arms.

chan simply stayed silent; warmth of his arms surrounds you whilst he lets you pour your feelings out.

he heard almost everything the staff had said to you, and he’s mad at himself for not being able to protect you from those words. he should’ve been there with you, keeping you safe from the unnecessary hate just because you’re his girlfriend. he should’ve stayed with you instead of running away. he should’ve—

“i’m sorry for lashing out on you,” you clutched onto his hoodie, voice coming out weak as you try to regulate your breathing. “i didn’t know why i was so upset. i shouldn’t have done that to you. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too, baby,” he pulled you closer into his arms, letting you nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “i shouldn’t have left you home alone, let alone for hours. i just—i could’ve handled it better. i’m sorry.”

a hum escaped your lips along with a soft shake of your head, showing your disapproval to his apology. “no, channie. i understand why you feel like you need to leave to clear your head. just… i’m worried because you didn’t answer my calls, and i know you hadn’t eaten anything today, so—”

“wait,” chan gently pulled away and looked at your flushed face, light trace of his fingers fixing the stray strands off your features, “you called? i didn’t hear my phone ring—or buzz, as a matter of fact. when did you call?”

“last was an hour ago, i think?” you leaned onto chan’s warm touch. “i don’t know. i was hurrying—ah,” eyes suddenly wide, you prodded your finger at the bag chan had set aside on his desk earlier, “i brought you some sandwich to eat. it’s not much, but you need to eat, channie.”

chan was stunned—he felt warm.

he’s used to being left alone to sort his feelings. he’s used to being treated as if his emotions were worth nothing, and he only mattered if he did something for others. chan is used to feeling invisible—but with you, he felt seen. not because of what he’s trying to prove, but because of the simple fact that he’s… him.

clearing his throat, chan immediately flashes a smile at you. “let’s eat first, yeah?” he hummed, voice noticeably lighter as he gently moved you off his lap and grabbed the little bag. “you should eat too. you spent a lot of energy crying.”

“but—”

“no buts,” he playfully glared at you, lips pursed in protest, “you came all the way here for me, it’s only fair i share my food with you.”

“after this,” finally unpacking the sandwich and handing you his other half, “we’ll order something else and some ice cream while i play you some of the songs i was working on. sounds good?”

the way your face lit up was enough of an answer for chan—your excited nods were merely a confirmation.

“alright, alright,” he chuckled, fighting off the urge to pull you back into his arms. instead, chan fished for the phone in his pocket and handed it to you. “your pick, baby.”

“yes! i’m—wait,” pressing on the power button, you blinked upon realizing how the screen remained unchanged despite your attempts. “did you forgot to charge your phone, channie?”

Chan grimaced. You could see how he’s slowly tracing his steps throughout the day—until a split second of realization flashed past his eyes. His lips turned into a little grin; one he always wears when he realizes he did something wrong.

“…did i?”

You’re out of words.

“channie!”

“hahah—i’m sorry!”

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baby-yongbok · 8 months

Text

Meltdown

Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Autistic!Fem!Reader

❗Genre: Angst

❗Warnings: Heavy themes of autistic meltdown, Very detailed explanation of a meltdown, Heavy themes of Anxiety?, self-harm (no blood), Mentions of not being able to breathe, Chris is an asshole but not for long. Again, this is very detailed. + Bang Chan is referred to as Chris.

❗A/N: I'm very nervous to post this, but I want to put out content for neurodivergent community. As an autistic individual, I rarely see content with an autistic reader. It may exist, but I've never really come across it. So, here I am. This work is purely based on my experience with autism and is based on my own meltdowns. This is not meant to reflect how every person with autism has meltdowns. I hope that you enjoy!

✨️Masterlist✨️

“You always do this, you always do the same shit and then try to play it off as an accident. How many times are you going to make the same mistake?” Chris yelled in your direction, putting air quotes around the last word of his sentence. You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to keep yourself stable.

“It is a mistake and I thought that I was doing a good job at avoiding it, I don’t perceive any of my behavior tonight as suggestive. I thought that I was being friendly.” Your speech is steady and smooth, a calculated response designed in your head to avoid conflict. That was your goal, avoiding conflict, but it seems that Chris’ temper has other plans tonight.

“Friendly? Are you fucking kidding me? You were practically saying your vows with all the compliments you were dishing out tonight. Laughing at every single word that your so-called friend said. I’m surprised you weren’t sitting in his fucking lap with the way your conversation was going.” Your eyes dart around the room before landing on the bright numbers of the digital clock to your right. You focus your eyes on the bright outline, trying your best to keep yourself calm.

“Chris, I really didn’t mean -” You’re cut off by his yelling, the sudden sound making you jump a bit, shifting your focus.

“I don’t want to hear that fucking excuse. You didn’t mean it? Yeah, sure, you always say that. And why the fuck do you let him call you all of those names? Honey, sweetheart, and anything else that slips off of his tongue, right?” He moves from his spot across from you, circling the couch and stalking towards where you're sitting quickly, only stopping when there’s about a foot between you. “Are you fucking him or something? Do the two of you have history? Because I can’t think of another reason for you to be so goddamn disrespectful.”

“Wha- no, I- I never did anything with him.” Your eyes dart up to his face but your gaze quickly falls, you blink a couple of times trying your best to hold back your tears. “I thought.. I thought I was being friendly I was watching -”

“Why are you trying to play innocent?” He squats down in front of you, his piercing gaze trying to find yours. Tears start to run down your cheeks and you start to rock your body back and forth. You wipe your tears away with open hands before starting to pick at your nails. “Look at me. If you’re not lying then look at me.”

“Chris I- I can’t right now. I’m r-really overwhelmed, I’m sorry.” He sucks his teeth at you, leaning closer into your space. “Please.. Back up.”

“Look at me.” He hisses and you can feel the tingling in your hands and feet starting as your thoughts start to spiral out of control. “Do you really think that you were just being friendly? Tell me, I’m fucking listening.”

His tone picks up towards the completion of his sentence, ending in a shout. You jump again, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. The thoughts in your head get louder as the seconds go by and you start to lose the ability to understand them. Every time that you try to pin point one of them it gets pulled away from you. You start to bounce your leg, fast and harsh. The bouncing of your leg paired with the rocking of your upper body seemed to have caught Chris’ attention. The real Chris, not the one that was standing in front of you seconds ago allowing his jealousy to spiral out of control in a fit of anger.

“Hey..hey” He lowers himself onto his knees, his eyes that were angry seconds ago now glazed with worry. “I’m.. I’m sorry I lost it, I know I shouldn’t have, I just..”

He reaches his hand out to touch you, a soft attempt at comforting you but it was the last thing that he should’ve done. You jump at the contact, a small whine falling from your lips. He moves his hand quickly, muttering a small apology. You bring your hands up to cover your ears, attempting to shut out the heavy buzzing of your thoughts. You start to rock your body quicker as you lean forward, shrinking into yourself.

“Fuck.” Chris hisses under his breath, his hands helplessly resting on his lap. He knows that you didn’t mean it, he knows that you have trouble interacting with your friends due to your autism. And he knew better than anyone what could happen when you got overwhelmed. He could usually see it coming and nurse you back to a more stable headspace but this time he couldn’t. This time it was him that caused the meltdown, the fault was at his feet and there was nothing he could do to fix it. All he could do was wait and watch as you went through the motions.

It was the screaming that pulled him out of his thoughts. The piercing sound of you wailing, the verbal expression of the pain you felt as you tried your best to understand what was happening in your head. His eyes fixed on you immediately, he took you in slowly, maybe too slow. Your hands were laced in your hair pulling harshly at the roots as you sobbed, you were mumbling something through your sobbing. At first he couldn’t understand but eventually he caught on and his heart shattered in his chest as he reached for your hands in an attempt to loosen your grip on your hair.

“Stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes.” You mumbled as your tears fell. Your grip on your hair tightened just as Chris made contact with you, he tried desperately to gently pry your fingers from your curls.

“Baby, you can’t do that.” He nearly whispered, his voice was easily drowned out by your screams as you tried to get as far away from his touch as possible. “Baby, please.”

“Stop making mistakes, Stop making mistakes.” Once Chris was able to loosen your grip you balled your hands into fists. Your body tensed and your breath caught in your chest. Chris watched you with wide eyes, he slowly tried to move a bit closer to you, preparing himself to stop you from hurting yourself if needed.

“You have to breathe.” The panic in his tone was evident, you could hear it but you couldn’t react. There was too much going on, too much to process. “ Babygirl, please please breathe.”

You bang your fists against your thighs, trying to get your brain to slow down, trying to coordinate breathing with thinking, moving, anything. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why couldn’t you just stop holding your breath? Why? The more you thought about it the more frustrated you got. You could feel a burning in your chest as you looked up at Chris, eyes wide with panic.

“Babygirl, look, follow me. Do what I do, yeah?” His voice is soft yet strong as he tries to mollify the panic rising in his chest. He attempts to instruct you, using his hands to guide you into making your chest rise and fall as it should. You watch his hands, trying to concentrate, Trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the harsh buzzing of your thoughts. The longer you focus on the movements of his hand the more that you can feel your chest start to move. You take in a sudden breath, gasping a bit and choking for a second. You follow with another quick breath, gasping again and the pattern continues until the burning subsides and an intense dizziness hits you.

“You did it, you did so well, baby.” Chris whispers, his eyes wide and glossy. “You got it.”

Your body starts to relax a bit as you work to regulate your breathing. You slowly unclench your fist, resting your hands in your lap and scratching at the fabric of your jeans. Your movements start to slow and you sit up straight gradually, every move hurts a bit, the aching in your muscles already starting to set in. Your crying continues as you pant softly, you mumble the same statement to yourself a couple of times before you direct your words towards Chris.

“I’m s-sorry. I thought I-I was doing it right I t-thought…” Your sentence trails off into a pained sob as you bring your hands up to cover your eyes. The guilt of your reaction came flooding through instantly. First you make your boyfriend mad and then you have a fucking meltdown about it? You just can’t win, huh.

“Please don’t apologize, I should be the one apologizing. I should be begging for forgiveness right now. I had no right to get that angry, I was jealous and it was stupid. I was insecure, I’ve been insecure about you hanging out with him for months and I let all of that pent up emotion out and I hurt you. I’m so so sorry, I understand if you don’t forgive me, I wouldn’t either. I know that you struggle and I still fucked everything up.” He moved a bit closer to you, a mere inch separating the two of you.

You shook your head acknowledging that you could hear him. Your brain was slowing down just a bit and you didn’t want to add anything to the whirlwind to disrupt it.

“I’ll get your meltdown kit, and I’ll pick out your safe clothes. You need to take a hot shower to try and soothe your muscles… you’re going to be sore in the morning, okay?” You shake your head, glancing up at Chris for just a second before you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight but you try not to let it bother you. The aftermath of a meltdown was something that you’ve grown used to after all.

“Please believe me when I say that none of this was your fault. I’m so so fucking sorry, this will never happen again…ever.” He nearly whispers the last word before he stands from his position in front of you, rushing off to get your meltdown kit equipped with sensory aids of all types along with a pair of noise canceling headphones and a pair of tinted glasses in case the light is too much for you to take in.

You keep your eyes closed as you wait for him to return, the pitter patter of his feet across the hardwood is louder than usual as he makes his way back over to you. He leaves you with the kit before rushing to start your shower and pick out your clothes. You always tell him that after you have a meltdown you just want to be left alone, you need space to come down completely. He watches from afar as you put on the headphones and open your favorite calming candle to smell. He makes sure to stay just far enough for you to have your space but close enough to be there if you need him. Once you go to the bathroom for your shower he sits outside of the door, listening for any signs of a follow up meltdown. He takes a deep breath and before he can stop it a tear falls, trailing down his cheek and leaving a path for the rest to follow. He squeezes his eyes shut as it all replays in his head. He yelled at you, he caused your meltdown, you could’ve passed out or ended up more hurt than you already are. God forbid you had a shutdown, he’d never be able to live with himself if he caused that but he could honestly barely stand himself now. He took out his phone, typing a text to Minho, hoping for someone to help calm him down before he sees you again. He’ll only allow himself to fall apart behind the scenes, he doesn’t want to add to your distress any more than he already has. A couple seconds go by after he’s sent the text before his phone is vibrating in his hands. He swipes the green button and brings his phone up to his ear. He takes in a shaky breath before he lets the words leave his lips.

“I fucked up…”

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3rachasdomesticbanana · 3 months

Text

The Bet | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: After losing a bet with your boyfriend, your penalty is to do whatever he says that night. But what sort of penalty does he have in mind in the middle of a nightclub and why are crotchless panties involved?

Who would've thought losing a bet would be so much fun?

•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: Heavy smut, Established relationship, Public unprotected sex, slight Restricted movement, Soft Dom Chan, Minimal fluff, Crowded area

wc:3k+

an: edited but might still contain some errors

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

“Remember the bet, baby girl.”

Your boyfriend Chan whispers in your ear making you shiver.

You're innocently sitting on his lap in the VIP section of an upscale nightclub somewhere in downtown DC. The club pulses with energy as the heavy bass reverberates through the sleek, dimly-lit space. The air is infused with the scent of expensive perfumes and colognes, mingling with the subtle aroma of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

Smooth leather couches, separated by a red velvet rope line the perimeter of the dance floor, offering cozy spots for groups like our own to relax and chat amidst the excitement. The group of friends you two came with, move with confidence on the dance floor in front of you bathed in hues of deep purples and blues. Hip-hop, EDM, and R&B classics fill every corner of the room. You nod at your boyfriend's words believing he wouldn't go through with the penalty of the bet you lost against him.

Why you bet him that you could deep throat him without gagging wasn't the smartest thing you've done. Chan is far too thick and lengthy to take every inch without gagging even a little when he hits the back of your throat with the swollen head of his cock. Now you wait in a short black leather pleated skirt with a pair of crotchless panties underneath waiting for his command. With every drum his finger plays on your hips you feel your body respond to him. Little touches here and there make you fully aware of all the places his hands and fingers linger on your body. From your back, through the exposed slit down your blouse to your navel. He touches every bit of flesh he can without the movements looking indecent.

There's possibly over a hundred people inside the club and that's just on the floor you're on, there's two other floors below you. You feel certain Chan won't do anything too drastic around all of these people, that he just wants to tease you and keep you on your toes. Though with this man you've been with for years now, you can't ever put anything past him. He's capable of doing so many things others would never dream of doing. If he wants something then nothing will stop him from his goal. It was that way when you met through your boyfriend at the time. He was a toxic asshole and Chris knew he could treat you a thousand times better than he ever could. So he proved it to you every chance he got. Won your heart and eventually your mind, body and soul. You've been happy ever since. Everyday was an adventure with him, full of spontaneity for you, yet carefully thought out in his mind.

So when you feel him lower the zipper of his designer black ripped jeans you're not really surprised. You aren't prepared for him to wrap his arms around your midsection though. In one quick move he pulls you back against his chest and you yelp in surprise. The movement frees his cock from the opening in the front of his boxers. It springs up and out, resting against your ass. Your eyes go wide, your mouth agape and you're at a loss for words. It would take one shift from you for him to slip between your thighs or inside of you. As if he can read your mind, Chan settles his palm flat on your thigh with just enough pressure for you to understand him without words. Doesn't stop him from whispering in your ear though, knowing how his breath on your neck will affect you.

“Don't move baby. Not until I say so. This is a penalty remember… not a reward.” He smirks, proud of himself for this brilliant idea.

Chan is loving this little game of his and he wants to drag it out for as long as he can but the feel of your soft supple ass flushed against his hard length makes him feel like a mad man. He wants to ram himself inside of your sweet slippery walls and plow himself into you until you're creaming all over his cock and dripping down to his balls. He flexes the stiff muscle and grins wickedly when you groan softly. How long can he repeat that move until he feels it inch further and further away from where it rests? until it plops into your needy cunt? He wonders to himself. Maybe if he calculates it right he can make it so his cock doesn't find its way inside of you just yet. He'd love to fuck your thighs for a little bit. Feel you squeeze him with those thick fleshy thighs that he loves.

While you're sitting as still as possible forcing yourself to look as if nothing is wrong, Chan plots behind and underneath you for more ways to tease you like this. Momentarily you're both pulled out of your inner thoughts and intimate bubble when a couple of your friends come over to the table to hydrate and to get you two onto the floor to join them dancing.

“Come on bestie dance with us! Hannie keeps stepping on my feet.” Your best friend exclaims setting down her drink and side eyeing her boyfriend.

“Hey hey that wasn't my fault Minho bumped into me. I'm being framed.” Han puts his hands up in surrender.

You're laughing at the couples playful bickering in front of you but you can feel Chan’s erection twitch again as your laughter rocks your body.

“You two go ahead, you know Chan and I like vibing and watching you guys have fun. We'll join you before the night's over.” You smile in their direction and Chan's does it again.

This time flexing his cock three times making it bounce under you until it slips through your thighs briefly brushing past your clit. Your eyes go wide and you gasp. Very quickly you pretend to sneeze covering your mouth with your hands.

“Bless you baby.” Chan says and you can hear the smile. “Why don't you two show us exactly how to have fun yeah? See if we can compete with you guys later.” He adds over your shoulder and whatever Han sees on his buddies face he's taking your friends hand and pulling her away from the lush VIP area.

He chuckles watching the pair disappear into the crowd and pushes up off the couch as if he's trying to get comfortable but the move only rubs your aching clit with the side of his stiffness. Every vein and ridge brushes the nub making you squeeze your legs together which is exactly what he wanted.

He groans softly before he whispers in your ear, “No moving remember?” and you groan in frustration.

“Please Channie. I'm so wet can't you feel how bad I need you?” You whine, turning your head to look at him.

His coffee colored eyes glitter when they find yours. His full lush lips part and he runs his tongue over them. When you bite down on your own lip you feel him again and you know he's just being stubborn in not giving in and filling you up.

“Because you said please. Slowly scoot up forward to grab your drink off the table and then back down.” He instructs and you nod turning back around.

Your drink, a mix of pineapple and cranberry juice sits in front of you on the oval glass table with beads of condensation dripping down the sides. Stretching your arm out, you slowly inch forward feeling Chan sliding down between your folds becoming slick with your juices. Your hand makes contact with the glass and when you slowly move back to how you were you feel him stretching your cunt wide each inch you push back onto him. The sensation is heavenly and you want to take your time. To enjoy the feeling of him finally inside of you but Chan is an inpatient man and he’s gripping your hips, pulling you back with such force that your drink splashes over the surface and onto the floor. You inhale sharply clutching the glass tighter than you normally would on a normal night out.

If you thought the feeling of Chan inside of you was heavenly, he'll describe it as exquisitely delectable. God he loves it when he bottoms out inside of you, loves it when you take all of him so well. He'll push himself even further though there's no where left for him to go just to hear you whimper the way you are now.

“Shhhh baby, that's it. Fuck. Now no moving no matter what. Good.”

You feel his cock pulsating inside you and keeping a neutral face has never been more difficult than now. If you two weren't surrounded by at least a hundred people right now your ass would be bouncing up and down on him until he was shooting and filling you up but instead you sit still, following his directions and sporting a very natural blush that no makeup brand could ever replicate.

How long could you both sit here like this without needing to cum? How could he even control himself to not thrust. Damn it… he feels too good and you need some stimulation so you ignore what he's told you to do and begin rocking back and forth nodding your head like you're doing nothing more than enjoying the song that the DJ plays. It's enough to make you cum right there but Chan's strong hands stops you with a groan sucking in air between his teeth.

“Hey hey hey.” He says softly. “You were being such a good girl.” His voice his husky and low, it makes your muscles clench around him and when he groans again it does nothing to stop the need you feel.

“Channie.” You whine, not caring about your dignity. “I can't do this. It's too much I need you to fuck me.” You admit squeezing your legs and in the process, squeezing his cock with your cunt.

He curses under his breath fanning your hair at the nape of your neck making you shiver. It's unintentional, completely innocent but you shivering pulls a instinctive thrust from Chan. When you moan he does it again and you have to remember that you're not alone when the urge to arch your back and grind your way into a climax tries to take over. Chan is fighting a battle that he feels he may lose because you just feel too good wrapped around him. Even if you don't move, all you have to do is bear hug his cock and he'll lose his sanity, his composer and unravel.

He didn't think he'd be the one suffering right along with you. As someone who thinks everything through he didn't think of this part. Now he's fighting his compulsions and the impulse to fuck you hard and rough even with an audience. When he makes any sort of sound it only turns you on even more and he knows your walls can't help but clench in response. The way your pussy swallows him up, contracting around him like it's trying to milk him has his brain going fuzzy.

“Fuck, y/n baby. I'm so glad this pussy is mine. If I fucked you right now could you control yourself baby? Or would everyone know that I'm deep inside of you giving you all eight inches of my cock? Hm?” Chan growls gritting his teeth digging his fingertips into your skin.

“Mm- I… I can try baby. I can't make any promises. You've got me too worked up. Please just fuck me though. I don't want to wait until we're home and I definitely don't want you to stop.” You reply sounding breathless as if you two had already been going at it.

“If we're doing this you have to keep still, no moving yeah? You do exactly what I say. If not then we're stopping. This is so we don't get caught okay?”

You nod looking straight ahead, focusing your eyes on the lighting fixtures that hang from the ceiling. They cast subtle patterns on the walls, adding to the ambiance around the club. Occasionally, bursts of colored light sweep across the room, adding to the atmosphere and hypnotizing you when you feel Chan start to move. He's squeezing his legs together like you were doing and bounces his legs to the beat of the song. Each squeeze and bounce creates a tiny thrust, his cock, barely moving in and out but it feels so good you almost close your eyes.

“Dance with me baby. Tap your foot. Fuck- mnh squeeze my cock with your pussy.”

You don't need to be told twice you do as asked without hesitation and the added movement on your part increases the thrusts. He's able to pull out of your cunt further, before snapping back up into you. The music is your focus though you don't hear what's playing, you keep the rhythm Chan has, nodding your head and keeping your breathing even. It's not easy, there's moments where you let slip a moan or a gasp that gets drowned out by the bumping bass. Even Chan can't control the raw uncontrolled sounds that escape him each time your pelvic muscles grip him.

Luckily for you two all your friends are still on the dancefloor but for how long? That thought is all too apparent to Chan and he cannot have anyone interrupting this. It feels too good to stop; he'd be liable to burn the place down in a fit of rage if he was forced to pull out of you before creaming your pussy, breeding you just how you both love. Heads will roll if he doesn't get to finish you both off.

“Need… mmm. Shit baby girl, I need you to cum q- quick can you do that for me?” He asks, his voice strains and his hands snake around your abdomen wrapping you in his arms. You nod in response. It's all you can do, you're afraid that if you try to utter a single word you won't be able to stop the noises that will spill from your lips.

“Good girl, now squeeze me and rock your body to the beat like you were doing before.” He steals your drink from your hand and brings it up to his lips nonchalantly but you hear his moans when you tighten your muscles.

Chan is close; he just needs you to reach your peak so that he can spill himself inside of your greedy cunt. So with his free hand he gently presses his palm down on your stomach just below your belly button. The pressure makes your legs shake and you stutter with your rocking but you find the rhythm again with ease, grateful that the song is a fast paced one.

With his cock throbbing inside of you and the rocking motion of your hips, Chan is now grunting behind you, quietly praising you behind the glass of your drink.

“Oh fuck baby, keep going. Mhm you're close now aren't you y/n? Yeah, I can feel it. So gorgeous when you cum. I can just imagine how you look right now, flushed cheeks, lips parted wanting to scream my name.” He grunts and adds more pressure to your abdomen and bucks his hips once and fast.

He's right you are close and you're more than certain that you're making a mess of the front of his jeans. Neither of you care, your impending shared orgasm on the forefront of your minds. With every rock of your hips you feel Chan's cock bump against that sweet spot nestled deep inside of you that only he can reach. Your walls quiver and you bite down hard on your bottom lip. Your brows crinkle together, making you look angry while you fail to look like nothing is happening other than a happy couple enjoying the music the DJ provides. Behind you Chan is struggling but not for long. With a popping sound, your bottom lip springs out from your teeth and you're gasping like you can't get enough air into your lungs.

“Chan… fuck.” You gasp and that's all that he needs to hear. He understands exactly what you mean.

“Yes…” He hisses, pushing his pelvis hard against you. “That's my girl. Oh fuck,” He gasps along with you. “Cum all over me y/n.” Chan mutters cumming inside of you, shooting hard and deep while the walls of your cunt throb with your own release.

With your movements slightly restricted to stay unnoticed, the orgasm is unlike any others that Chan has coaxed from you. It’s as if you've been plunged into an icy lake and the suddenness takes your breath away. Your body is on pins and needles and fucking hell does it feel unbelievable for both you and Chan. Your cunt devours every bit of his seed, still hungry for more. You're shaking all over and it takes Chan’s strong arms hugging you to slow down your breathing and your body to relax.

“Fuck.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“Mhm, I can't wait to get you home y/n. Hope you've got nothing planned tomorrow. I don't think you'll be able to walk when I'm done with you baby.” He informs you and your pussy reacts clamping down around his slowly softening cock.

“Oh, is someone already ready for another round?”

“Another round? Hell yeah bro let's end the night with a fucking bang!” Felix cheers from seemingly out of nowhere, pulling you and Chan back to the now. The shy giggles you two let out leave everyone confused as they join the table one by one.

After ordering another round for the group you both excuse yourselves and as descritley as possible separate from each other without anyone noticing. The whole way to the restroom laughter erupts from you and Chan.

“I can't believe we did that!” Chan shouts over the music and pulls you into his arms. His lips land on yours kissing you until your head is spinning.

“Keep that up Mr. Bang and I'm pulling you into the bathroom with me.” You scold him playfully. He calls your bluff, kissing you again and grabbing your ass for good measure.

“Go on, I'll be waiting beautiful.” he nods in the direction of the restroom doors.

Once cleaned up you and Chan rejoin your friends. Finally making it to the dancefloor, you dance an entirely different dance than before. Your body still feels lit up and the craving you have for your boyfriend still remains. You'll hold him to his promise when you get home but the one thing you love about him is that he always stays true to his word. You know he'll deliver, he's all action as well as words. Who would've thought losing a bet could be so much fun?

415 notes · View notes

arcanesea · 6 days

Text

blossom

PAIRING: bang chan x f!reader GENRE: fluff WC: 0.9k WARNINGS: none, just kisses:] a/n. [based on this request ! my brain never worked so quick when i saw a prompt. everyone say thank you anon for requesting heheh. also, sorry for taking so long to get back to you, dear anon😞]

“A penny for your thought?” Chan asked, taking a seat right next to you, making your whole body shiver when his arms brushed yours. You turned your head slightly, eyes landing quickly on the thing under his nose. You blink before forcing a smile. Act normal, please, act normal.

You really can’t.

It’s not like you haven’t been kissed by him, who has been your boyfriend for the last couple of months. But it hits differently when you dream about a specific kissing scene. Maybe it was the influence of numerous romance dramas you watched, combined with the fact that you can’t get enough of his kiss. Maybe you’re going crazy. Crazy in love. Or it’s a mix of both.

“A penny is too cheap,” you replied jokingly, trying to not sound too nervous. You don’t dare to look at him again because your heart is starting to go thump-thump-thump under your ribcage and one look at Chan might just give you a heart attack on site.

The thing is you can’t get the image out of your head. The dream you had last night. Of you and Chan. Kissing. Under the rain.

It always looks so romantic on TV, but you hate that the majority of them always start after a heated argument. You understand the desperation, you understand the appeal of the angst, but the dream you had last night was just… so… sweet.

“A kiss?” he offered leaning in your direction with a playful smile. Your eyes widen and you can feel heat spread across your face. Chan laughed a little before teasing you even more, making you stand up from the sofa. “You’re blushing, you know that? Haven’t I kissed my beautiful girlfriend today?” he asks, following you to the kitchen where you take a glass of water and drink it hastily. Praying that it could cool you down.

You glance out the window. These days the skies have been a bit moody and then as if on cue, it starts to rain.

Chan’s hand snake on your waist, hugging you from behind. The gears on your head are turning. You had to bring that image to life even if that meant you’ll catch a cold afterwards. But how? You can’t directly say to him that you want to kiss under the rain… It feels so childish… Besides, it will just catapult his ego out of this planet and he'll bring it up to you on all possible occasions.

“Where are you?” Chan asked, pressing a kiss on the side of your temple. It feels like the contact of his lips and your skin turned on the switch in your brain.

You turned to face him, leaning in closer until your nose met each other. His eyes fluttered close, but you use that moment to escape his strong arms into the front door. In the back of your head, you can see him with a lowered head, hands on both hips, all while trying not to smile at your sudden prank. You let yourself roam the road, feeling the rain turn from a drizzle into a more constant shower.

Chan followed you out but made no movement to join you who started to run around in the empty road. It’s been ages since you voluntarily stand under the rain and actually enjoy it. The rain always does an excellent job of washing away your worries for a while.

You stopped, with hands outstretched to him. Inviting. Waiting. Please take the bait, please take the bait, you wished. “Catch me if you can,” was the word you half-shouted to him.

He raised his eyebrow, seemingly unamused. It’s a mental game, waiting around on who can stand being five feet away from each other. But like every other time, he loses this one too when he stepped out from the porch into the pouring rain.

You dodged him when he tried to trap you in a hug, laughing like a little kid. When you look at him, you swear that he’s the prettiest thing on earth. He’s like a flower who just gets watered; vibrant, full of colors. And his smile, God, his smile is enough for you to stand under the rain forever.

You give up at last. Letting him attack you with tickles all over your body.

“I admit defeat,” you try to squeeze in between laughs. He stopped tickling without taking his hands off your waist. Pulling you closer and turning you to face him. “Hi,” you said when you finally met Chan face to face.

“You’re having too much fun for someone who might complain about their cold and runny nose the next couple of days, babe,” he said. You just smile sheepishly before tiptoeing to give him a quick kiss. “That’s it?” he asks back. You nodded in reply. He tch-ed, head dipped to meet your trembling lips. You circle your hand on his neck as he lifts you up from the ground, spinning you around a bit. His lips taste like the honey chapstick he uses, warm against your own.

“That’s definitely better than my dream,” you admit with a wide smile. You’re cradling his head, forehead pressed against each other. Chan laughs earnestly, finally seeing behind the curtains.

“Next time you have some romance scenarios in your head, just tell me,” Chan offered. You roll your eyes, still holding the smile on your face.

What once woke you up from your sleep now becomes the image you see before you close your eyes. A thousand times better than any scenes you ever watch and definitely worth the cold that comes after too.

a/n. i wrote this in like 2 hours i didn't know how it got this long maybe i just missed him a little too much:/

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jae-bummer · 1 year

Text

For You, the World

Request: "You and your bias run into your ex." This with Bang Chan please? 🥺🥺

Prompts:

15) You and your bias run into your ex.

Pairing: Stray Kids Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff

"Baby," Chan hummed, resting his palm on your hip. "Quit fidgeting."

"I can't help it," you grumbled. "I don't want to be here."

"That's not what you said when you bought the tickets," he smiled, pressing his forehead lightly against your temple.

You took a deep breath and allowed his presence to calm you. "I know. When I got the tickets, my intent was to make my enemies rue the day they ever underestimated me."

Chan let out a full laugh as he pulled away from you again. "I thought you said that you wanted to look hot and successful in front of your high school bullies?"

You rolled your eyes. "Same difference."

He was right. You had been excited to buy the tickets to your high school's alumni event. The opportunity to flaunt how well your life was going was too tempting to pass up. Now that you were here though, you just felt queasy and defeated. What if the same people who had made you feel so small were in the position to do so again?

You wouldn't give them that power. You couldn't.

Making your way up toward the fold-out table where you would exchange your tickets for name tags, you shuddered. The previous class president and head cheerleader sat side by side.

Sensing your unease, Chan's hand immediately found yours and gave a tight squeeze.

"Name?"

"Y/N," you croaked, looking anywhere but at the two people sat in front of you.

"Y/N..." the cheerleader cooed, sliding her finger down the iPad in front of her. "Oh my gosh, Y/N!"

Looking down in surprise, you immediately clocked the malicious joy in her smile. "Yeah, hi."

"You look soooo different!" she purred, making a show of looking you up and down. "And look at that, you lost some of that baby fat! Well, I guess it wasn't really baby fat if you still had it at graduation..."

"You lost weight too," you muttered, lifting a brow. "About 160 lbs worth I believe?"

"What?" she gasped, her hand fanning across her collar bone.

"I believe his name was Steve," Chan piped in with a flawless smile.

You looked over with wide eyes.

"I have Instagram, I know things," Chan said so only you could hear.

"Stevie and I are still close," the cheerleader insisted. "We just couldn't make long distance work."

"It was probably hard to make your sidepiece work in the relationship too," you sighed. "Tough break."

She spluttered, looking from you to Chan. "I don't know what you mean."

"Sure, you don't," you nodded. "Can we get our name tags please?"

Glaring, your old classmate thrust a sticker in your direction. "One for you-"

Turning to Chan, she narrowed her eyes, giving her best attempt at being sultry. "And one for...Chris?"

"Thanks," Chan deadpanned, taking the sticker from her extended hand.

"I don't remember you in our class," she said breathily. You could only roll your eyes. She sounded ridiculous.

"I wasn't," Chan said simply, tugging you along.

You couldn't help the zap of victory as you began to walk away. Not only had you owned that entire exchange, but you had your amazing boyfriend by your side, assisting in the shutdown. That couldn't have turned out any better.

"Thank you for coming with me," you said quietly, allowing him to escort you to an open area where old classmates had begun mingling.

"You don't have to thank me," Chan said happily. "I've got you."

Smiling weakly, you prepared yourself for whatever else was to come. Logically, you knew the evening wouldn't be that bad. After all, you did actually have some friends when you were in school. Just because you imagined yourself to be a social pariah at the time didn't mean that was the actual truth.

Settling in at a table toward the back of the room, you were content with people watching for a while. You felt entirely in your element as you gave Chan the backstory of every person that came across your path. Chuckling and gasping at the appropriate times, you knew your gossipy partner was enjoying the evening as much as you were.

"Are you thirsty?" he finally asked after you had finished a particularly long story about the school mascot getting kidnapped by the Latin club.

"If I plan on talking more shit, I could probably use a beverage," you grinned. He smiled in response and nodded. Untwining his fingers from yours, he hopped up from the table and headed in the direction of the bar.

Humming along to the music pumping through the background of the room, you continued to casually watch the people around you. It was surprising to see just how far everyone had come in the few short years since you had all known each other. You had been such a tsunami of emotions as a teen, it was an odd feeling to see these people through a different lens.

While you had mentally prepared to face friends and foes alike, you had not factored in the continued existence of ex boyfriends. Sure, you had social media stalked plenty of people you had dated in the past but having them here in the flesh was another endeavor entirely. It didn't take long for an entire body shiver to overtake you as you locked eyes with someone you would prefer to have never thought about again.

Jun encompassed everything you wanted to forget about high school. If you toted around words like "high school sweethearts" that would have been the apt description for the two of you. While you spent quite a lot of time falling head over heels for him, he had been busy fostering relationships with at least a handful of other people. He made you into a joke and you would never forgive him for that.

But of course, he was making a bee-line in your direction.

"Why is he even here," you muttered. He had supposedly moved to a different country after graduation. With absolutely no social media footprint, you just assumed he wouldn't be easy to contact.

"Y/N," his familiar voice sighed, a few tones deeper than it once was.

"Jun," you acknowledged stiffly.

"Can't I get a hug?" he asked, his arms slightly extended.

For as good looking and smart as he was, he sure couldn't read the room.

"Depends, do you have any communicable diseases I should be made aware of?" you muttered, glaring up at him.

"Come on," he chuckled. "You don't still have hard feelings, do you?"

You blinked in shock. "Hard feelings?"

"We were kids!" he smiled. "Can't we leave the past behind us?"

You opened your mouth to respond, only to close it again.

"I couldn't have been that bad," he prodded, taking a step toward you. You sat in horror as he began to close the space and wrap his arms around your shoulders. Pulling you into a weird, seated hug, he spoke quietly. "I don't remember the specifics of why we broke up, but I do remember how much I cared about you."

Groaning, you pushed at his chest to untangle yourself. "We are not getting into this right now."

Setting a cup down a little too hard on the table, you watched what you assumed to be Coke Zero slosh onto the white tablecloth. "Is he bothering you, Y/N?"

You breathed a sigh of relief at Chan's appearance. He had crept up behind you. Assuming he had heard the bulk of the exchange, he had likely stepped in when he felt it to be the appropriate time.

"No," you ground out. "He was just leaving."

"Jun," your ex said, ignoring your comment and sticking his hand out toward Chan.

Chan grabbed it a little too tightly, causing Jun to wince. "Chris."

"Is this your new guy, Y/N?" June asked, tilting his head. "Thought it would be someone taller."

Chan let out a small scoff of a laugh. "You don't have to be jealous, mate."

"I've gotta have, what, at least 8 inches on you?" he continued, trying to goad Chan.

"I'll give you that. I'm short," Chan sighed, letting his palms rest on your shoulders. "But ugly is kind of a dead end. What do you plan on doing about it?"

"Enough," you groaned, surging to your feet. "Jun, please crawl back into whatever dark hole you have emerged from."

"Aw baby," he grinned. "Don't be like that."

By his simple statement, you were transported back to being a teen, getting gaslit when the word hadn't even been popularized yet.

"I'm not your "baby,"" you choked, frustration dangling you close to tears.

"You didn't say that when we were in the backseat of my Mazda," he continued. "Or did you forget about that? We made so many good memories together, Y/N."

It felt like something foreign had taken over your body as white, hot rage filled your senses. He was not only trying to embarrass you, but make Chan feel uncomfortable as well. How fucking dare he.

Swinging your arm back, you landed a harsh smack across his face.

Turning on your heel, you stomped off in the direction of the exit. At the edge of your hearing, Chan spoke sternly. "Don't you dare even breath in Y/N's direction again. Understood? You'll wish a smack was the least of your worries."

The feeling in your chest didn't let up until you had pushed your way through the door and felt the cold night air hit your burning skin. You didn't realize at what point you had actually began crying, but your cheeks were wet.

"If you want me to go back in there and make him regret ever attending high school with you, tell me now," Chan said, not far behind you.

"Chriiiis," you moaned, turning to face him. "That won't help anything."

"Who says?" he chimed. "You'll feel better, I'll feel better, and he'll feel worse. It's a win-win-win."

You chuckled, wiping at your eyes. "I appreciate the offer, but no."

"Well, just know, it still stands," he sighed. "I wouldn't hesitate to burn down the world if it meant you felt better when I was done."

"Noted and appreciated," you sighed, collapsing into him. "But I think we can keep the matches tucked away for now."

Wrapping his arms around you, Chan rocked you slowly from side to side. "I am so proud of you," he whispered into your hair, tightening his grip around your waist.

"For what?" you sniffed. "I lost my shit."

"There was nothing wrong with your behavior, love," he cooed. "I'm proud of you for being brave in the face of adversity."

"I'd hardly call running into old schoolmates "adversity," Chris," you groaned, tucking your face even further into his chest.

"I would," he said definitively. "And I won't hear any arguments about it."

"Fine," you swallowed, leaning back to look at his face. His eyes were warm as he assessed you. Reaching up, he wiped a wayward tear cascading down your cheek. "Why do all of my emotions have to be directly attached to my tear ducts?"

"Just lucky like that, I guess," he smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," you croaked. "My social battery is reaching critically low percentages."

"Let's get you a reset then," he nodded. "Couch nest and take out?"

"You know my love language so well," you hummed. "Thanks again for being here tonight."

"For you, the world, Y/N."

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prettywordsyouleft · 13 days

Text

Personal Torture

Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader

Genre: fluff / gym au

Tropes: established relationship

Warnings: a lot of body soreness lol

Word count: 898

Author’s Note: I wrote this from experience – well, minus that I didn’t have Bang Chan to help me recover. But the rest was very much so written in the moment.

“Easy… take it slow.”

You whimpered as you slowly descended onto the couch, no part of your body quiet in its protests. The strong hands around your biceps supporting you were a pleasure and a pain, and when you finally sunk deeply into the cushion beneath you, you were relieved when Chan let go.

Crouching down in front of you, your boyfriend tried hard not to laugh at your expense. It made his soft guidance over to the couch seem irrelevant as your eyes – thankfully not hurting in any way – glowered at him. “You okay there?”

“I’m going to hurt you.”

He bit his lip briefly. “I don’t think you can, not at least for a day or two. Besides, if you hurt me, who is going to help you into the shower once I’ve fed you?”

Grumbling at his smart response, you tried to fold your arms across your chest in annoyance. Instead, you winced as your armpits, of all places, ached with the stretch. Christ, was there a part of your body where you wouldn’t ache after today? You let out a huff of air. “I’m never going again.”

“Yes, you will. It was your first session. It makes sense your body would ache afterwards.”

“This much? I feel like I’ve been put into a tumble dryer and thrown about for an hour.”

Chan couldn’t hold back a snort. “It’ll get easier when your body grows accustomed to exercising. I promise.”

“Did you hurt like this the first time?” you asked, looking at your boyfriend’s athletic shape. You then scrunched your nose. “Never mind, I’m sure you came out of the womb this fit.”

Laughing now, Chan patted your knees gently and grimaced when you whined in displeasure. “I don’t remember. I was always pretty active as a kid. And whilst the imagery of baby me coming out with abs is frighteningly hilarious, you’ve seen photos of me as a kid.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. It was one thing joining the gym and mucking around on the cardio machines. But a personal trainer? Chan, I just paid a woman sixty dollars to kill me.”

“You’re still alive.”

“My last breath is pending. I’m pretty sure if I try to stand up again, that will be my final act.”

“You’re going to be fine,” he insisted, moving into the kitchen and clanging things about. “I bet as soon as I’ve fed you and then gotten you into a shower to ease the ache in your muscles, you’ll be right as rain.”

“It took me twenty minutes to get inside from the car before, remember?”

“Fifteen of that was you telling me you couldn’t possibly move because you would fall.”

“My legs are still shaking. They’re like jello.”

“No pain, no gain.”

“I don’t want to gain. Actually, I do. Gain weight. That’s always been easy for me to do. Squatting down to my ankles on my first PT session? Surely that was her having a laugh at my expense.”

“Didn’t you finish all three sets?”

You frowned. “Yes, but-”

“Then you are stronger than you feel right now. Look at your effort. You didn’t give up.”

“I wanted to after the squats. That’s an exercise designed by the Devil himself.”

Chan gave you a pointed look. “But you completed it all.”

“I didn’t want to fail my first session!”

“And you didn’t. Think about how much you asked of your body just now. And it responded to all your requests.”

You thought over his words, pursing your lips together. He was irritatingly right. A smug smile bloomed over his face when he realised you had silently acknowledged his claim.

“Surely, what I did today wasn’t the norm. There’s no way I am going to recover from this to repeat that routine again so soon. If the squats don’t kill me, the damn yoga exercise on the ground will. I am now aware of muscles I didn’t know existed, Chan. I’d rather go back to being oblivious of them.”

Bringing over the sandwiches he’d made for you both, Chan sat down heavily beside you, grinning when you glared at him. He then handed over a plate before taking a bite from his own. After swallowing it down, he said, “I’m proud of you.”

“Of course you are. You’re a gym bro who successfully convinced your fitness-illiterate girlfriend into joining a gym and paying money to torture herself.”

“No. I’m a guy who listened to his girlfriend complain one too many times about feeling gross and wanting to be healthier and supported her in making small changes. Whether you never go again or not, I’m proud of you for putting yourself first like that.”

Placing down your sandwich, you took in his genuine expression, a small proud smile crossing your lips. “I didn’t fail.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“My butt is going to look amazing after conquering squats, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

“Are you sure you’ll be proud of me if I never go again?”

“Well, you’ve already paid for your next two sessions, so…”

You groaned loudly, wincing when your body disagreed with your efforts. Having a cute butt wasn’t worth all this agony.

“What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger,” Chan attempted, though he could tell you were beyond inspirational quotes now.

“Kill me now. It’ll be less painful.”

_________________

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