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scarsnfevers · 5 months

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I want more parts, pleeeeeaase🤧

STAN

CHAPTER [I] of CASE 143 — [18+!]

“You’re probably my favourite person around here, so if someone threatens you, I’m automatically involved, too.”

“Sir, I–“

“Y/N, we’re not at work,” he reminds you. “You don’t have to address me like this.”

You nod, “Oh, sure—but Chan, there’s nothing to worry about, really.”

“I will protect you nonetheless,” he assures you.

🔍 SYNOPSIS: On top of overworking yourself and taking care of your brother who’s in the middle of his divorce, anonymous hate threats reach you. Luckily, your good friend and boss is there to ease your mind—maybe in an unconventional way…

🔖 CONTENT INFO: chan x afab reader, hyunjin x afab reader, jisung x afab reader; angst/smut/fluff; detectives/crime au, they are all detectives, chief inspector chan, ex boyfriend hyunjin, best friend and detective partner jisung, step brother minho, reader has adhd, they are all flawed characters; possible hints to brooklyn 99 and eminem lyrics; help why does it look as if chan is staring at the cat (aka dori) in the pics above lmao; warnings and smut tags under the cut (include spoilers)

📋 WORD COUNT: 10.3K

📸 WARNING: anonymous threats and hate messages, implied stalking, mention of criminal activities (duh they are detectives), topics of unrequited love, brief mention of cheating, mental health topics such as adhd, mention of divorce and heartbreak (reader’s brother), alcohol consumption, slut shaming

⛓️ SMUT: dom/sub dynamics, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), semi-protected piv, choking (f receiving), hair pulling (m receiving), slight marking (f receiving), slightest spit play, praise, slightest degrading, name calling (good boy, babygirl, sweetheart)

📦 SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

Your tea’s gone cold. You’re wondering why.

Why you.

Why now.

Why did you get out of bed at all if you have to deal with bullshit like this?

You know your job is tough. Maybe one of the toughest out there but never in five years of working here, you’ve experienced something like this.

Once more your eyes hover over the bright screen, flashing shut when they get on one level with the first message.

‘Your work as a police officer makes my head hurt. Genuinely, you can’t expect criminals and their friends not to come after you, when you make such obvious mistakes. I know all your secrets, Y/N.’

The thick lump that’s been created in your throat gets swallowed, gliding down and landing in your cramped stomach. You’re looking for any severe signs again, when you soak in every detail of the text, searching for indications to differentiate between an insignificant prank or a serious matter.

You’re a detective after all—the fact someone is coming after you, spreading false information anonymously to your office, gives you some alarming tautness. Revenge calls or emails reach your office quite often, considering the fact you’re putting criminals locked up behind bars. It’s nothing new that related individuals come after you and your colleagues.

But this—it’s different. The author has included things that none of the criminals or their friends could have known, it’s personal information you’ve only ever shared with close friends. On one hand, it’s limiting the multitude of possible suspects; on the other hand—it scares you for life, knowing the culprit could be near you, even capable of sharing your deepest secrets.

Then your eyes align with the author’s sign again, one thousand thoughts per second doing sprinting sessions inside your skull, making your head all dizzy.

‘– L.’

Where have you ended up here?! A cheap remake of Pretty Little Liars or Gossip girl? The only thing missing is an ‘xoxo, you know you love me’.

And all of this would be hilarious, actually quite entertaining, if the worries wouldn’t creep inside your body like a huge army of tiny little ants.

You read the message one last time. ‘When you make such obvious mistakes’—possibly, or more definitely, just bluffing. So you decide to get back to your actual case, searching for more clues hinting towards that growing drug cartel.

Maybe the messages are connected to them. This would make anything both easier and dangerous for you but they’d simultaneously hand themselves to you on a pretty shining silver plate. You dig deeper, gathering together all the evidence you already have. After another hour of focused work, you’re getting closer to the bottom of this mystery revolving around the cartel.

Until another mail gets sent to your work account, similar to the first one, the sign on the bottom proves it’s the same person.

‘I’m closer than you think I am, babes. I’m always one step ahead of you, creeping into your office, reading all the evidence you’ve collected. The way you document your work is much of an eyesore. Maybe fix that first and you’ll get what you’re looking for. xx. kisses but no hugs for you. – L.”

Yeah, so it’s both Pretty Little Liars and Gossip Girl.

The oxygen inside your lungs hitches, as you halt in place. This is getting ridiculous. Ridiculously stupid. It’s as if the author has just tripped themselves with the message.

After years of work experience, not only you but also your boss and colleagues know, there’s no one more talented when it comes to all things organizing than you. Binders and folders in different colours, an incredibly precise view on every tiny detail surrounding you as well as highly developed stamina when it comes to any case—a biography of Y/L/N Y/N.

There’s nothing making its way slipping through your fingers. You’re aware of everything. So the fact this person is coming after your biggest skill, makes you hold back a giggle. You’re confident in what you’re doing, they can’t get at you for or with this.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” Your boss asks, startling you from your focus on the syllables on the bright screen in front of you.

Chan has always been like this—easily concerned, especially when it comes to his fellow detectors, especially when it comes to you.

You’re one of his best, officially. You’re the best, unofficially. He wouldn’t admit that to your coworkers but deep down he knows and lets you know as well.

So, of course he instantly caught up on the fact that you seem a little off today, a little distracted.

“W-Well,” you start, deciding it’s best to let Chan know about those two letters in case they’re important for a current crime, “I’ve received these messages today and I’m not sure if they’re just bluffing or something serious. It’s keeping me a bit busy, if I’m honest.”

He gets a little closer to you who is still sitting in their chair. The chief inspector leans a bit over your desk, pretty near to you now. His fingers land on the computer mouse, helping him scroll through the abstruse messages.

“Hm, let me see,” Chan says, reading the sentences attentively. You can sense it by the look on his face that he’s fully focused. His brain works fast—maybe not as fast as yours—but he’s always one step ahead, already contemplating how to handle this odd and scary situation.

However, he’s also very rational. He may be concerned on the inside, but he’s also the team’s leader. It’s his duty to provide security to his detectives. The messages scare the shit out of him—especially considering that they are directed to you, his best investigator, whom he’s good friends with and also has a hopeless crush on. He wouldn’t ever confess that, but he can’t change his feelings towards you.

That’s why it breaks his heart that the following words he’s about to speak, will downplay the anxiety those anonymous hate messages create in your head.

“Sounds like a prank to me, to be fair.”

A prank?

Of course, you’re not feeling threatened per se—especially when receiving an untrue accusation like this—but better safe than sorry, right?

What if there’s a criminal behind this who you caught some time ago? There are probably some lost souls out there that are out of jail and out for revenge.

At least that’s a logical explanation for that abstruse text.

‘I’m closer than you think I am, babes.’

It must be someone you know, someone who believes you did harm to. You’re a detective after all, it’s your job to arrest criminals or guilty people who (believe they) aren’t.

You’re an overthinker, too. Which is kind of annoying in this setting, to be fair.

But better safe than sorry, right?

“Sir– this person claims to know hidden information about me or our precinct. Maybe they’re even connected to the drug cartel,” you explain your worries without trying to seem too anxious.

You can see it in his eyes—Chan does want to say more, he feels what you feel. He’s probably the most empathetic person you know, especially when it comes to his close ones.

Especially, when it comes to you. He catches himself way too often—captured in a spiral of thoughts he shouldn’t have about his younger colleague. But there’s just something about that combination of your utmost intelligence, your empathy that’s basically as huge as his own and we haven’t even talked about your looks yet—you’re his type, really.

Chan would ask you to go out with him on the spot. However, there are enough reasons against this. First, you’re coworkers, which would make anything beyond friendship hella complicated. Second, he’s not ready for something serious right now. It just doesn’t fit his current life, unfortunately.

So, one could assume the two of you could just start a physical agreement instead. The tension is there, you can’t deny it, even though it’s unspoken. He noticed you ogling his hands earlier and he bets that your heartbeat increased when he leaned over your desk. It’s always like this. He has also observed that whenever he wears one of those shirts that cling tightly to his chest, you seem to visit his office more often than on a regular day.

His assumptions aren’t just assumptions. If Chan asked to bend you over his desk, you wouldn’t even think twice and you feel absolutely ashamed that these thoughts stay in your head while you’re trying to find a solution for a very serious situation. Fuck. You need to get laid.

Utmost tension is lingering in the air but Chan catches himself. He has to stay professional. Focus on those anonymous threats. Besides that—it’s just two messages. There will be a harmless explanation for that—maybe some teens playing a prank or whatever the youth is up on TikTok or wherever right now.

“I understand your concerns, Y/N, but we can’t do much for now. Just leave it as it is and we’ll see.”

Chan has always honoured your certainty and work ethic. He’s a person you look up to, someone whose opinion matters a lot to you, if not the most—so you try to follow his advice.

It’ll be hard. You dearly pray the messages will stop, that it really is just some joke. You can’t handle anything like this right now—not with all the shit that has been haunting your life lately.

These past months have been… a lot. Work and private wise. You’re basically working in your freetime, trying to solve all the cases that have been asserted to you. When you come back from work after your shifts, you can’t fully relax.

You don’t mind that your stepbrother is temporarily living in your apartment—after all, his soon to be ex wife is still occupying his old one and the poor guy is too emotionally overwhelmed to even talk to her. It’s new, seeing him like this. It breaks your heart, really. Minho is such a strong, independent man and fell for a woman like that. You’re glad he’s out there—even if the limited space and his whining at night gets the best of you.

But when you look at the picture on your desk—a group selfie of Chan, Minyeong, Jisung and you—it reminds you it’s not so bad. You know that you can count on them if things get rough—no matter if it’s related to work, your family situation or those threats.

🔍

“Y/N, wait.”

You can’t overhear his voice—it’s one of your faves after all. Not because you have a huge crush on its owner. It’s solely because of the sound—after all, Jisung used to be a musician a long time ago.

Little rushed steps get closer to you, the noises mixing together with his words.

“I’ve got some clues considering the drug cartel.”

That’s when you halt in place. Your thoughts might be all over the place—even more than on a normal day—but this information lets hyper focus kick in.

However, you’re just about to take your lunch break. You’re exhausted, have been working on some cases for six hours straight and the growling of your stomach is driving you insane.

Your detective partner finally reaches you, gasping for air—sometimes you wonder how he joined the police with that lack of athletic skills—as he places his hand on your shoulder.

Jisung does that a lot. With anyone and everyone. He is a very touchy person, one could say.

You’re not. You’re kind of the opposite, unsure if it’s to blame on your neurological background.

However, it feels comfortable if it’s Jisung. Not because you have a huge crush on him. It’s solely because he makes you feel secure and comfortable, it’s because you can trust him which isn’t surprising considering he’s your partner.

But no matter what he’s about to say, you need your well deserved break.

“Can’t it wait until after lunch?”

Jisung looks at you like a little fawn stares into a car’s front lights.

That is very untypical of you.

Who are you and what did you do to his best friend?

He tilts his head, getting a little closer. Usually, you’re invested in the cases even after work, putting all your effort into finding out the truth. That’s what you’re popular for at your police department, that’s what your colleagues admire you for—especially Jisung.

“Is everything alright?”

No, but I don’t want to talk about it.

You avoid his gaze, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

The fake smile that’s plastered all over your face is pathetic, really, and of course Jisung doesn’t need a second to realise.

“Come on,” he slightly nudges your shoulder, catching you off guard, “you can tell me everything, you know that, right?”

I do know that, Sungie.

You’re best friends, have been for a few years now and you can count on him, trust him with your whole life. There’s no one you’re closer with—despite maybe your stepbrother. But the difference between them is that you don’t have a huge crush on the latter, obviously.

Well, of course you don’t have feelings for Jisung either. You’re best friends. Just that. Nothing more.

At least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself of in order to protect your stupid little heart.

“It’s–“

You cut yourself off. It’s already hard to discuss all the stuff that’s on your mind, so sharing your inner thoughts in the middle of the hallway doesn’t seem like the brightest idea.

“Let’s go get some lunch, the food is on me, okay?”

You nod and follow Jisung to the cafeteria, allowing him to choose a nice and warm meal for you, before he pays for it. The both of you take a seat near the window, making it easier to watch the droplets of rain hit the glass that’s separating you from them.

“A… a lot of stuff happened,” you start the conversation, “I told you about the thing with my brother—seeing him in pain like this hurts me too and demands lots of energy that I don’t have right now.”

As if it’s the most normal thing in this world, Jisung grabs your hand and you let him. You’re not really into physical touch but for some reason it’s different with him. He’s a special person. Your special person.

On the contrary, your best friend loves skinship. It’s definitely one of his love friendship languages. Sometimes he feels like a perv almost, whenever he searches for another excuse to touch you—not in a creepy way, he’s not disrespectful, but he craves being close to you.

Not because he has a huge crush on you. It’s solely because you make him feel secure and comfortable, it’s because he can trust you which isn’t surprising considering you’re his partner.

Definitely. Not because of the fact that he has feelings for his best friend that he shouldn’t have.

But whenever Jisung gets closer to you, when you initiate a cuddle session or ask for a warm hug, when you let him place an absolutely platonic kiss on either your forehead or your cheek, he enters the spiral of daydreaming again.

Two problems occur with this.

First, if he’s completely honest, the man is madly in love with you but too much of a coward to admit that. He wants to be more than your friend but he’s also aware that things would get absolutely complicated considering you’re not only his colleague but also his partner—ignoring the totally obvious fact that you probably don’t like him back.

Second, those innocent little touches awaken thoughts that let his brain shut off because all the blood inside his head wanders down to his dick. He’s a man after all and working with a detective that’s both incredibly hot but also super smart, which turns him rather dumb. He catches himself thinking unholy ideas way too often. The images of you underneath him, begging for more, being guided to the final level of a dangerous game called intimacy—all of them are living rent free in his head.

Whenever these forbidden thoughts appear, he stops himself immediately. At least he tries to. You’re his best friend, you’re his partner—you both have developed the perfect basis of trust over the years, he won’t tear down those stable walls for a one night stand.

Or worse—for a confession of his love for you, knowing you won’t return the feelings anyway.

So he just sits there in silence, enjoying your presence either way, reminding himself that you’re currently pouring your heart out to him—oh, God, he is a fucking pervert.

Stop thinking with your dick, Jisung.

“So, yeah, that’s it,” you finish your monologue.

At least Jisung was able to pay attention to what you were saying, which also leads him to the next dilemma—you’re not telling him the entire truth. Jisung knows you like the back of his hand. He just feels if something is wrong, sometimes even before you grasp it.

“There’s more bothering you. Tell me about it, come on.”

Fuck.

You shouldn’t have those thoughts, really. But there’s something about this demanding aura that he carries very rarely, that makes your head spin ridiculously. The unholy images are already making their way into your mind—possessing you with the idea of being pressed against the mattress by Jisung, begging him for more, as he guides you to your sweet relief.

This is a serious situation, Y/N. Stop thinking with your pussy.

“Sungie, it’s nothing serious.”

You never call him by his nickname at work. He knows that and he knows that you know it too, judging by the way your eyes widen once you’ve noticed your mistake.

“I won’t repeat myself. Tell me.”

When you see the seriousness in his eyes, you’re able to switch back to normal. Having your best friend worry about you is the last thing you want.

So, you take a deep breath, deciding to just drop the frightening information.

“There were two mails sent to my work account filled with anonymous threats.”

Jisung’s eyes threaten to fall out by the way he’s staring at you, in utter shock.

“W-What?” is all that makes it out his mouth.

You watch where your bodies connect, when he squeezes your hand tighter. Jisung tries to gather up the correct words, trying to both ease your mind while he is already searching for a solution.

He’s scared. He won’t admit that in order to not worry you even more, but it’s a lot to hear what you just said.

Just when he is about to finally speak, Minyeong and Soyeon take the empty seats beside you.

“No, I’ve told you, I can bring the wine for the party,” Soyeon announces, a tray with her lunch being placed on the spot on the table in front of her. She’s right beside you, giving you a soft smile, just checking in.

Minyeong does the same from the other side. You told her about the things going on with your brother. After all, she’s your best friend. Your colleague was the one who got you into this job in the first place—like some others who are part of the department, you didn’t study to become a detective.

The same counts for Soyeon and Jisung—they both met in college, majoring in music but unfortunately great success never really reached them. They wanted to do something that helps people, similar to their arts, so they ended up here.

Minyeong and Chan, as well as the other fellow detectives, actually went to a school to prepare them for their job, which leaves you a little insecure from time to time. It’s not as if you’re bad at what you’re doing—objectively speaking, you’re one of the best investigators the city of Seoul has ever had. But knowing you have a different background—studying abroad in Prague for five years just to get out there with the worst grade of the year—leaves you unsure about your life choices from time to time.

“I’ve told you as well, Soyeon,” Minyeong starts again, “I can bring mead with me.”

Jisung looks a little dumfounded, before he intervenes, “What? Meat? Why would you bring raw meat instead of wine?”

Your other best friend chuckles and you join her, unable to not giggle about your shared friend’s question. Laughing along with your closest loved ones helps you forget about all the issues you have to deal with for a second. You’re glad they’re with you.

“Not meat, Ji. Mead. It’s honey wine. I’m from a family of beekeepers, you know.”

His jaw falls open, when he finally gets what his colleague means. It’s adorable, really. Not even in a way that it’s connected to your crush on him, but Jisung is an absolutely funny guy without even trying.

“I don’t see a problem with bringing different types of wine—the more, the better,” you suggest.

Your friends instantly nod, as Minyeong says, “Sure! Let’s listen to Y/N, she’s absolutely right. This is gonna be a fun work party.”

You’ve never liked work parties but with the right people surrounding you, like your kind colleagues, you’re actually looking forward to it.

After planning a little further, considering the get-together is already this evening, you finish your lunch just in time to get back to your files and cases as well as in order to escape Jisung. He knows how much you value your focus kicking in at work so whenever he sees you between all the paperwork and behind your computer, he won’t disrupt you.

Most people say your ADHD holds you back from being a good detective and while you agree on an everyday level, knowing your circumstances have always made life a lot harder for you, you don’t agree when it comes to investigation. You’re convinced the fact your brain is working a little differently helps you observe situations from a different point of view that nobody else thinks of.

Jisung has the same opinion about this. Despite you being his closest friend and partner, he values your intelligence and skills and absolutely admires you for it. That’s why he is rushing to your desk, files under his arm, ready to present you the new clues he has regarding the drug cartel case you’ve been working on for nearly a year now.

“Look at this,” he says, showing his notes to you.

Money laundering isn’t anything unusual when it comes to organised crime and you for sure don’t have to be a detective to know that oftentimes restaurants, stores or other little shops and companies are used for hiding evidence about drug deals.

That’s what led your partner to a little shop in the suburbs, since he suspects them to hide their packages of cocaine and other substances somewhere in the store. Nothing unusual when it comes to stuff like this. You should visit the shop, maybe find some hints if you’re lucky enough.

The clock hits almost three. Your initial plan was to give your paperwork some attention but this has to wait for now. When Chan gives both of you the green light and allowance for investigating the shop undercover—together with the police dog Bbama—you head towards your destination.

🔍

It’s a good thing Bbama doesn’t look like his profession and neither do you in your civilian clothes. It makes finding some clues a little easier. When you reach the store, the owner is very friendly, offering to help you with what you’re looking for—as he believes you’re just normal customers—but you decline.

The dog is the real main character here. Jisung, his official owner, trained him very well, so that no one notices his odd behaviour. It’s nothing unusual for dogs to attach their noses to whatever scent hits them and the salesman doesn’t seem to be bothered either. You spend a few more minutes inside the store, even getting pretty close to their storage room but Bbama doesn’t seem to find anything.

In case this shop is connected to the drug cartel, they either hide their cocaine in the storage room that you don’t have access to or somewhere entirely different. Unfortunately, this isn’t enough to send a SWAT team here, the evidence is still missing. Jisung’s ideas are mainly based on an old case where the store was involved in some weed dealing, but that was all there was.

Fuck. A whole fucking hour for nothing.

It feels as if you’re starting from zero again—not only with your detective related things but also with everything else in life.

Fuck it. Just make the best out of it and leave, like normal customers.

You grab two bottles of water and pay, locking eyes with the owner, as a shiver runs down your spine, before you leave the store. The clues are still missing, but after basically staring into this man’s soul, you’re one step closer again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I was so sure that they are involved in–“

“They are,” you state.

Jisung stops in his tracks and you turn around, looking at him with a sly grin.

“What?”

You chuckle, “They are involved. But the drugs are hidden somewhere else. It was the right thing to go there.”

Jisung is confused. He knows your thought processes work a little differently, but he doesn’t understand what makes you so convinced that the little store is involved in such a huge criminal case.

“How do you know?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Gut feeling.”

Fairly speaking, detectives should always base their ideas on rationality and not emotions but you saw it in the salesman’s eyes, that he’s keeping a secret. You just need more clues to connect the dots. The worst case scenario is that he realised that Jisung, Bbama and you are cops—maybe that’s why he behaved so uneasy behind the counter.

“I trust you,” Jisung says all of a sudden, catching you off guard.

“Really?”

You don’t understand why he believes you if your assumptions are based on practically nothing. But it isn’t the first time your strategy is like that—in nine out of ten times you were right when using a good mixture of rational thoughts and emotions.

“Yeah. You’re the best detective I know.”

You feel heat creep up to your face but in the dim lights inside the car park Jisung doesn’t seem to notice. When you reach his vehicle, he opens the door for you, making your heart skip yet another beat. Bbama stays on your lap and he falls asleep right after Jisung leaves the parking spot.

Your best friend stops at a red light, winker indicating he’s about to head back to the department. But you need some time for yourself, that’s why you ask, “Can you drop me off at my apartment? I need to change clothes and check up on my brother.”

He looks at you, being reminded of the collection of dilemmas you’re carrying with you these days. So, he nods, “Of course.”

Although he loves Soyeon and Minyeong just as much as you do, it was a shame the two women interrupted you earlier. Jisung can feel the anxiety creep into his soul again, as he remembers what you told him.

He wants to ask more. He needs to ask more. He has to make sure you’re okay and safe.

But just when Jisung is about to ask you what you meant with the anonymous threats earlier, finally gathering up enough courage to speak, you reach for your bag, searching for something. You grab a book that’s enveloped in a glittering cover, placing it on your lap, just right beside Bbama who is deep in his slumber, almost snoring louder than the car’s engine. Reaching for the keys just in case Minho isn’t at home yet, you attach them to your belt.

“What book is this?” Jisung asks, deeply mesmerised by the shimmering look. Sometimes he’s like a little child, amazed by something like this.

You didn’t even notice that you haven’t put the book back into your bag again. Your hands hover over the cover, colliding with the glittering particles.

“Oh, it’s part of a series called Levanter by Lidka Juřicová,” you explain, “I have read it a million times, honestly. Bought it back in the days in Prague.”

Ah, how fast the train of nostalgia hits you. Scents of knedliky and trdelník entering your nostrils, the taste of kiwi juice that tastes like chemical sugar lingers on your tongue and the vision of the Charles Bridge is basically in front of your eyes.

The author wrote another series that you used to adore a lot. Freeze. An enemies to lovers disaster. But the male lead reminds you too much of the guy in Czechia that recommended the book to you.

Hwang Hyunjin.

And his little side fling Jade.

Yikes.

“What’s it about?” Jisung asks, genuinely interested but also trying to distract you from anything else.

“A love story… you know me,” you begin, chuckling a bit, embarrassed, “just a typical mafia thing—I know it's ironic to read that as a detective but I swear it’s for research. Friends to lovers, lots of drama, you get it.”

Jisung is still very confused. In more than one way. He’s not really into literature so he doesn’t get what you’re referring to. However, he notices a little detail—friends to lovers. That could be you if you just gave him a chance.

Stop being delusional, Jisung.

“I… don’t. But it fits you, I guess,” is what he says.

You open the book, flicking through the pages as the smell of paper fills the car.

“Anyway—this is part one of the series, this book is called Medicine. Actually—you know what’s funny?” The book gets placed on Jisung’s lap now, as the sudden touch startles him. “You should definitely read it.”

He blinks once. He blinks twice. “Why is that? I m-mean, yeah of course.”

You have incredible taste and I would do anything you recommend me to do, Jisung thinks.

His eyes switch down to the book and back on the street again. You’re almost there. Maybe driving one hundred and twenty on the freeway wasn’t the brightest idea when you and his little feelings for you are in the car with him. He slows down, just in time to enter the exit and head towards your street.

The vehicle stops when he is right in front of your house. Unbuckling the seatbelt, you get up and catch a last glimpse of your best friend and the book in his lap—pushing away the fact that you’d love to sit right there, too.

“You’ll see, when you read it,” you say, a wink following, before you exit the car and walk towards your building. Jisung watches you disappear behind the front door, his fingertips grazing over the glittering cover one last time before he drives off to his own apartment.

Later that day, just right between getting ready for the party, when he starts reading the first few pages, he realises what you were hinting at.

The main character’s name is Y/N.

Unfortunately, Jisung doesn’t read enough chapters to realise the male lead is carrying his own.

What a coincidence, considering the fact you purchased that book way before even knowing him. Jisung isn’t a superstitious person at all. But you are.

🔍

“Hey, Min. How’s it going?”

Although you used the keys to get inside, you find your brother sitting on the couch, snuggled up underneath a blanket. It’s getting colder outside, for sure, autumn ready to get everyone’s attention but it’s not freezing enough to cover oneself with sheets. Something tells you that Minho is seeking comfort.

That’s why you head to the kitchen—that is the same room as the one your brother is in, considering you live in a studio apartment—making some hot chocolate for the both of you.

“Fine, fine. Dori and I went outside for a little walk but she was very brave despite it being an unknown neighbourhood for her.” Hiding between the books on your shelf, there she is, you can see her. “Weren’t you, baby?”

You’re glad your brother was able to rescue his cat from his ex’s place—you feel better around that little fur ball and he does too.

Minho has been doing better these days and it does help a lot that he drowns his sorrows in cleaning your apartment. You believe it’s never been this tidy before. But as an introvert, the fact that the two, or well, three of you are sharing a studio apartment isn’t that easy. Your private life is basically dead, since you have to sleep in the same room as your brother (and his cat), increasing your stress level even further.

Handing him the hot beverage once it’s ready to be served, you join him under the blankets, watching whatever show he has put on. It’s not a show, per se, rather some animal documentation on Netflix but it doesn’t surprise you. Your brother is a veterinarian after all.

Little Dori’s paws step on the sofa as well, letting the cushion shift under her weight before she decides to crawl into your lap, making you her chosen one.

“You’re almost as unfaithful as your mother,” Minho says to his cat, referring to his ex. It breaks your heart and he can tell by the look you give him. “Chill, Y/N. Me making fun of the situation means I’m healing.”

He gives you a genuine smile and you opt for believing him.

“If you say so.”

He takes a look at his watch then, realising it’s getting late.

“Don’t you have to get ready for your party?” He asks and you immediately come back to reality. “You should look at least a bit decent for your colleague—what was his name, Jisung?”

You place Dori beside you, ignoring her protest, before you get up from the couch. But you come to a halt again when your brother’s words register in your head.

“Did you just call me ugly?!”

Minho lets out a loud chuckle, “Don’t change the subject, sis. Or wait—it was two of them, right? You also have a crush on your boss, don’t you? Maybe Dori and I should bet on who you end up with.”

He’s getting on your last nerve. You stomp towards you wardrobe, picking out the dress you have chosen for tonight. Laying the fabric on your shoulder, you head to the bathroom door.

You turn around one last time, before you warn your roommate, “Shut up, Minho, or you’re sleeping in the bathroom tonight.”

He clicks his tongue, grabbing Dori and placing her on his lap.

“Considering you’re going home with one of your coworkers, you can’t supervise that anyway, detective.”

You shoot him a glare that could for sure kill him.

“Fuck you, Min.”

“I love you too, you’re the best sister in the world.”

🔍

“Mead?” Minyeong welcomes you, when you enter the break room. You grab the glass she is offering you, clinking it together with hers before you take a sip. The wine tastes immaculate, like nothing else you've ever had before. Of course, your bestie always brings you lots of bottles for free but this seems to be a new type.

“You look stunning,” she adds, referring to your short black dress.

“You too,” you reply.

The room gets fuller with each hour and drink that passes. You’re currently snacking on some crisps, occupied in a conversation with Minyeong and Eunjoo, another one of your coworkers. Both of them grew up in the same smalltown, always willing to share funny nostalgic events with you. Although you don’t know any of the people they are talking about, it’s still entertaining to just listen to them.

Soyeon joins you a couple of minutes later, inviting you for a round of shots. She brings four little glasses with her, filled to the brim with soju. Each of you reaches for one, before you listen to the sound of them colliding. When the transparent liquid hits your tongue and warms your belly, you know that tonight will help you get your mind off of all the stress of these past weeks.

You’re practically dancing the night away—trying to forget about everything. The messages. The mess your brother is in. The feelings for Jisung. That ongoing tension with your boss.

Speaking of the devil—none other than Chan approaches you, softly touching your shoulder in order to get your attention.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you for a second?”

You nod, giving him a soft smile, “Sure. What is it?”

“Alone. My office,” he says.

Following him, you realise that the alcohol is getting to your head but when you arrive in the room that belongs to the chief inspector, Chan offers you a bottle of water. He knows when you’ve had enough and possibly it isn’t the best time to talk to you about what's on his mind, but he needs to clear things up.

“I’m sorry how I reacted when you showed me the messages,” he says.

You haven’t expected him to tell you this. If you’re honest, you’re not putting much thought into this, after all he is your boss and supposed to stay professional in risky situations like these.

“It’s fine, I get it… you were just trying to calm me down and–“

“No,” he cuts you off. “If I’m honest, it scared me, too. But I have to stay professional, I’m your boss.”

Oh. You haven’t expected this either. In hindsight, it doesn’t surprise you, though. Chan has a big heart, a lot of empathy—which makes that crush even worse. You always try to convince yourself it’s just this—your boss is objectively speaking very attractive, a smart and confident man, a bit older than you and knows what he wants.

Who wouldn’t fall for that?

But you’re already confused about the feelings you have for your best friend, you can’t enter another drama like this.

“I understand,” you say, bringing yourself back to the current topic. “Why did it scare you, though?”

You’re not fishing for validation. At least not intentionally.

“Well… you’re probably my favourite person around here,” that much for staying professional, “so if someone threatens you, I’m automatically involved, too.”

“Sir, I–“

“Y/N, we’re not at work,” he reminds you. “You don’t have to address me like this.”

You nod, “Oh, sure—but Chan, there’s nothing to worry about, really.”

He takes a deep breath, as his eyes close. Fuck. He has to stop this. But being near you, alone in his office, watching you wear this skimpy little black dress, makes it hard for him to focus. Chan gets reminded of the fear in your eyes earlier, when receiving the anonymous threats. He wanted to pull you close, tell you it’s gonna be alright.

So, he decides to make up for that now.

“I will protect you nonetheless,” he assures you.

“You don’t have to–“

“Be honest, Y/N,” he starts again. “It does affect you, right? Even though it was ‘only’ two messages, you can’t get it out of your head, am I right?”

You agree, “There’s just a lot going on right now. I can’t focus. My mind's a mess and my whole body is filled with stress. But the party helps a little.”

He gives you a soft smile, before he walks a little closer to you. Chan wants to stop himself but his desires are taking over his mind and body, when he reaches for a strand of your hair, just to tuck it behind your ear. He observes your breath hitching, as he’s unable to hold back that smirk appearing on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that. You look amazing, by the way,” he says, voice dropping lower.

“T-Thank you,” is all that makes it past your lips.

Suddenly the room feels one hundred degrees hotter, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. You know it’s wrong. So wrong. Chan is your boss. He is the chief inspector. You shouldn’t have those thoughts inside your head how he bends you over the table and pushes your dress up high, just to shove his cock into your cunt.

Slow down, Y/N. What the fuck?

“No need to be shy, I’m just speaking the truth,” Chan says and you believe him. A soft smile finds your face then.

But Chan isn’t the only one who is being plagued with visions he shouldn’t have. He blames it on the way you look at him, on the fact you’re trusting him so much and on the ongoing lustful atmosphere that always fills the room whenever you’re with him.

At least that are his excuses for when his mouth speaks faster than his brain can hold him back.

“If you ever…” Chan starts, already sensing he’s about to suggest the dumbest idea he’s ever had in his life, “need something to distract we could–“

So, he stops himself.

Although it’s too late.

“We could… what?”

His breathing stops for a second when he realises what he’s done.

“Never mind—I can’t say that.”

“Chan… please,” you beg with a pout, blaming it on the tense atmosphere in his office and the street lamp outside shrouding the room in a dim shade of yellow.

“This is… un- unprofessional…”

His gaze finds the floor but you're the one reaching towards his face now, as two of your fingers land under his chin, making him look at you again.

“We’re not at work, Chan. You don’t have to be professional,” you remind him with a wink.

Oh, God. You’re gonna be the death of him.

He clears his throat. “I– I wanted to offer that… if you need a distraction with all that’s going on, I know of a way to make you forget about everything.”

Slowly, his second guesses fly out the window, especially when he watches you clicking your tongue.

“Yeah? Tell me, what is it?”

He gets a little closer to you, confidence suddenly and finally washing over him.

“I said I will protect you. Let me take care of you, just for tonight.”

Pure lust is swirling in his eyes, hypnotising you even further.

“Okay.”

That’s all he needs to hear in order to connect his lips with yours. You’ve expected him to smash them against your own, but Chan opts for a slow pace, driving you even crazier with each second that passes.

He’s smirking against you, right before he allows you to slip your tongue into his mouth. Your boss pulls you closer, his palms attached to your lips. A moan escapes your mouth and you don’t see a need in holding back anymore.

The grip on your flesh wanders further, until his hands are right behind the back of your thighs. He pick you up and with one swift motion, Chan lets the both of you make a one hundred and eighty degree twist, before he approaches his office desk—of course, at a leisurely pace just to tease you even more.

Your ass meets the wooden surface and your friend takes a step back to capture the full view of your beautiful figure. When Chan saw you first in that pathetic excuse of a dress, all he wanted to do was tear it off your body.

That’ll be the next step of his plan.

And as if your minds are already connected, you seem to want the exact same thing, too, when you whimper, “Touch me, Chan. Please.”

In the blink of an eye, his lips crash into yours again but they aren’t staying there particularly long. Their destination is way further south, which, on the contrary, doesn’t hold him back from granting some attention to your neck first.

It’s a beautiful picture, really—the combination of your head falling back, as Chan creates an astonishing pattern on your throat that by now reaches down to your cleavage and makes him feel his cock strain against the pants that are getting tighter and tighter.

You guide his head further, deciding to take a part of the lead and Chan follows suit. He pulls your dress down, revealing your bare breasts—after all this piece has a built in bra—which basically makes him drool at the spot.

“Fuck,” is all he lets out.

“Sure,” you joke, making fun of his choice off words but Chan doesn’t pay any attention. He simply can’t when you’re in front of him, half naked, fucked out look decorating your beautiful face and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

You’ve wanted this for so long. He’s wanted this for so long.

But something is still holding him back. There, in the back of his mind are second guesses keeping him distracted.

“Y/N– wait–“

You look at him like a deer caught in the headlights, “We can stop, if you want.”

He shakes his head no.

“No– I do want this, I do want you. But—I’m your boss and–“

“You’re not taking advantage of me,” you reassure him, “I want this just as much as you do. Also, I’m not tipsy anymore, I promise.”

He nods, glad you’re also sober, “I… I have bad experience with… sleeping with colleagues and–“

You decide to not contemplate who he might be referring to. It’s probably someone from his old department, anyway.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s a one time thing and I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Are you destroying your poor little heart with this? Possibly. But you need Chan right now. You can’t hold back anymore. If this is what it takes, then future-Y/N can deal with the consequences of your pathetic decisions.

“Okay,” Chan says, unsure if he prefers a no strings attached one night stand situation. After all, there are some rather serious feelings hiding in the deepest parts of his heart. “I won’t tell anyone either.”

“Good,” you say, your gaze flickering back to his moutg.

“Yeah,” he says, before a long pause follows. But observing his plump lips helps you gain back the confidence you need.

“Then go on, sir. Bend me over the table.”

Chan’s eyes turn dark and he chuckles, “Cute how you assume you’re in charge.”

A moment later you find yourself throwing your head back again, as Chan’s hands have finally made it under the dress. His fingertips are currently busy teasing your entrance, watching you squirm when they come in contact with your absolutely drenched underwear. Your panties are ruined but this is the last thing that’s on your mind right now.

After all, Chan is pushing the laces aside a second later, grazing over your sensitive bud with his thumb as two of his fingers circle around your hole. He watches how your breath hitches, when he pushes both of them at once into you.

You can’t hold back the moan that makes it past your lips and you don’t seem to want to. Not when he slides them in even further. There’s no way you can hold back, when your boss is knuckles deep inside you, filling you so nicely it makes you wonder what his hard cock will feel like caged inside your walls.

And then the unexpected happens—Chan drops down to his knees and pushes your skirt up higher, exposing your not so covered pussy to him and his office. A string of saliva hits your clit, although he technically wouldn’t need it, you think you’ve never been this wet before.

Your vision is already getting blurry and your mind seems to shut off completely, when his tongue collides with your bundle of nerves. Slurping sounds are echoing through the room, Chan lets out a few moans and curse words, not caring if anyone can hear the two of you. Luckily, his office is far away from the break room where the party is.

Your thoughts wander towards Jisung for a second but they are instantly cut off, when Chan curls his fingers, reaching that certain spot inside you.

“Fuck– you’re such a good boy,” you let out.

The praise makes him whimper, cry out and moan once more against your pussy.

“You like it when I call you a good boy?” you ask then.

For a second, Chan detaches his mouth from you.

“Y-Yeah,” he stutters, getting back to business a second later, increasing the pace of his tongue in comparison to before, flicking it over your swollen clit.

It won’t take you that much longer—the sparkles are already blinding your vision, threatening to push you over the edge. Your hand finds his head, fingers entangled in his curls, as you help him guide you through your approaching climax.

“Channie–“

“Go on, babygirl. Make a mess on my fingers and tongue,” he encourages you.

And so, you do. Your legs are shaking, as the feeling takes over you, possesses your whole being as if it’s magic. Chan watches you come undone for him, his movements never stopping. Once you are back in reality—at least physically—he guardedly pulls his fingers out of you.

Guiding them towards you face, your hand wraps around his wrists, as you allow his digits to enter your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting yourself on his skin. He pulls them out once more, watching you with his darkened eyes.

“N-Need more, Chan,” you pout, already reaching for his pants, before you pull them down with his boxers in one go. His hardened length gets freed, making your mouth get filled with saliva—you’re basically close again and he hasn’t even started yet.

“Wait—condom?” he asks.

“I have an IUD… I’m fine without a condom, if you are.”

He nods, before his hand reaches for his cock, as he starts stroking himself, getting closer to your heat. The tip of his throbbing cock comes in contact with your aching hole, but Chan decides to tease you a little, when he brushes over your clit with it, forcing another moan out of you.

“I’ll fuck you so good, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk.

“Then do it, don’t let me wait any longer– FUCK–“

Your sentence gets cut off, when he slides into you without a warning but with another one of those chuckles. You’re glad he’s prepared you so well—Chan is thick, filling you so deliciously already. When he’s bottomed you out completely, his gaze shifts up to your eyes, searching for any second guesses.

Once you’re adjusted to his size, you give him a small sign and he starts moving.

The slow pace from earlier is long forgotten—it’s replaced with the speed of light instead but you don’t mind at all.

You know that neither of you will last long and although it makes you a little sad, knowing this is a one time thing, you're unable to fight against it. Chan is thrusting into you, making you forget your own name with his satisfying movements, as he fucks you right there on his office table.

Your boss watches your tits bouncing to the rhythm of his cock sliding in and out of you, deciding it’s the prettiest view his eyes have ever been granted. Especially, with your slightly parted lips, fullfilling the composition of that fucked out look on your face.

At least, that’s how he justifies his following words.

“Who would have known that a smart girl like you can be fucked dumb so easily.”

Oh, God. You definitely weren’t prepared for a comment like that but Chan knows you enjoyed it, when he feels you tightening around him.

“Chan– need–“ logic has left the room for the both of you. While you have trouble speaking proper sentences, Chan turns into a moaning mess himself. You’ve basically ruined each other by now. Your hand finds its way to his head again, fingers tugging at his curly strands but Chan knows how to take revenge when one of his hands, that’s currently placed on your hips, keeping you balanced, wanders upwards.

He wraps it around your throat and the slightest pressure is already enough for you—you’re once more clenching around him, dangerously close to your second orgasm of the night.

And when Chan brings two fingers right where you bodies meet, playing with your clit, you allow your body to get what it craves. When your walls tighten around him, he realises he won’t be able to hold back any longer either. So, he pulls out of you, stroking himself to that sweet relief, as you watch thick white ropes of cum collide with your stomach, some droplets landing on or running down to your pussy.

Your boss tells you to stay on the desk so that he can grab a towel from the bathroom. A minute later, he is back but it really feels as if just a few seconds have passed. While Chan is cleaning you, before he adjusts your pathetic excuse of a dress, an object enters your vision.

There’s a banana box in the corner of his office, used for anything but definitely not for storing the yellow fruit.

“Chan?”

His head turns around, finding your fragile figure.

“Yeah?”

You can hear nervousness in his voice, as he wonders if you regret what the both of you just did.

“What’s inside that box?” you ask, pointing at it.

Confusion pushes his anxiety away.

“Just… old paperwork. Are you looking for something? It should only include old cases of mine but if you need anything, go ahead,” he explains.

“So, no bananas?”

What are you on about?

“Why are you… asking about bananas?”

“I’ve got it,” you say, sliding down from the desk.

“Got what? You’re not making any sense.”

He chuckles, shyly, worrying that he’s the one who isn’t getting a very obvious hint. But sometimes your brain works faster than you’re able to speak which leads to a lot of question marks above the heads of the people you’re talking to.

“The drug cartel” you start, “I know where they’re hiding the cocaine. It’s not in the supermarket and neither inside the storage room of the shop—it’s in the banana boxes in the warehouse where they get their fruits from.”

Chan looks as if his eyes are about to pop out. Of course. Why hasn’t anyone thought of this before?

“You’re a fucking genius. We have to go there. Now,” he rushes you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you off the desk. His skin against yours makes your head a little dizzy but you decide to not read too much into it.

“Let me at least have a look in the mirror first,” you say, chuckling embarrassed.

“Do that, I’ll let the authorities know. We’re going undercover.”

You nod, before you disappear in the bathroom. It doesn’t take you long to make yourself look at least a bit decent—your brother’s words—but you know that the makeup has to wait. You can always do that while being in the car on your way to the warehouse.

“You ready?” Chan asks, once you join him in his office again.

You are. However, the overstimulation of all things happening lets you enter a spiral of thoughts.

Twelve months. A whole fucking year. Just for you to solve a case. You may not have arrested the suspect or suspects yet, but you’re basically on the finishing line.

“Chan?”

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.

You feel so dumb for asking this, for asking this right now in particular. But you need comfort. It’s a lot and for some reason your mind can’t handle good things happening to you when you’re bathing inside the shit show you call your life these days.

“Where am I supposed to go from here?”

You’re the definition of a perfectionist and overachiever.

Twelve months. You’ve spent twelve months trying to solve this case and now that you finally got the guilty one you’re—bored? Unsatisfied? Craving the next adventure?

Chan instantly gets what you’re referring to.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re our best detective for a reason,” your boss compliments you.

You can’t help but feel the heat rising to your face. God. How on earth can you both talk about such work related issues just a few minutes after Chan was shoving his cock into your cunt, listening to all those pretty little whimpers you made.

Yeah.

Well.

Moving on.

“No… I am not the best one.”

You’re not fishing for compliments.

There are better detectives. Chan himself for instance. Otherwise he wouldn’t be the boss of the team.

“You’ve just solved a case we’ve been working our asses off for nearly a year now. You’re incredible and I’m not just saying this because… you know.”

Because you let me rail you on my office desk half an hour ago, he wants to say.

“I still don't know why solving this case would make me the best detective…”

You’re supposed to be the best detective of all time, huh?

Chan stops in his tracks for a second. “Well, all I know is—every time I think you’ve hit your ceiling, you go higher than you’ve ever fucking been.”

🔍

Approximately half an hour later you find yourself in the car with Chan, Jisung, Soyeon and Minyeong.

You don’t catch your detective partner investigating your looks—he clearly knows you went to Chan’s office with the boss himself, stayed there for like an hour and the fact you’re adjusting your makeup now probably can’t solely be blamed on the fact that the night isn’t that young anymore.

But he tries to push those thoughts away.

He doesn’t have a chance anyway. No matter if there’s something serious between you and the boss, you’d always choose the other one.

Chan is literally perfect. The chief inspector, a little bit older, muscular arms, firm chest—which Jisung knows about thanks to them going to the gym together occasionally—confident, rational. Just everything you need.

So, why should he waste any time wondering if he’s ever gonna be more than a friend to you?

You arrive shortly after, parking the car further away before you approach the huge warehouse. It doesn’t take you long to enter the building, considering people work here even at night, probably below minimum wage but that’s a case for another day.

“Who are you?” a male voice questions, revealing a middle aged man with silver hair, dressed in expensive attire—combined with a totally stupid looking cowboy hat, making him seem like a randomised sim.

You don’t want to be driven by prejudice but if that man isn’t connected to the drug cartel, you’re gonna quit your job and become an unemployed geologist again.

“Bang Chan. Chief inspector. We’ve got a few questions for you,” your boss introduces himself.

The unknown man has a grin decorating his face that’s supposed to cover sheer shock and panic.

“Follow me, then,” he offers, leading you to another room. You enter a ridiculously posh looking bar—everything is covered in velvet. Everything.

“Would you like a drink?”

You shake your head no, knowing you’ve still got a bit of alcohol in your system and Chan reacts the same way.

“So, how can I help you?” the suspected criminal asks.

Jisung steps in then, getting a bit closer to the bar.

“Oh you can’t– oh, well you actually can! Can I have a drink?” Your detective partner asks. “Everytime we are close to solving a huge crime case, I crave a drink.”

The man in front of him sighs, making his way towards the pretentiously huge bar. You can see his hands shaking in fear, as he speaks, “What would you like?”

Jisung looks around for a second, taking his time, pretending to make the most complicated decision in his life. But this is just one of his tricks, his strategy as a detective, if you will.

“Sparkling water.”

The criminal scoffs, before he grabs a bottle of ice cold water from his fridge. The fizzling sound fills the room, when the carbon dioxide escapes the water. A clean glass gets filled with the transparent liquid, before the man hands it to Jisung.

“Thank you,” your best friend says, taking a sip from his extravagant beverage. “And now, show us the banana boxes, cowboy.”

🔍

Chan drops you off at your apartment first since it’s the first stop on his route. You can tell from the look on his face that he wants to say more—he’s incredibly proud of you, really. But in the back of his head he knows there’s a bit more left that needs to be discussed.

Or is there?

You agreed that this will be a one time thing but for some reason fucking out that persistent tension just confused him more.

This will be a future-Chan’s problem, he decides, as he watches you enter your building.

The hallway is a little cold, indicating that autumn really is right behind the corner. Before heading upstairs you choose to take a quick look at the mailbox, guessing that Minho probably hasn’t checked it today. Sometimes letters or announcements reach you on Friday evenings.

The keys slide into the lock, opening the metal object. In fact, you find a single sheet of paper in there.

A beige envelope touches your fingertips.

A daisy is attached to it.

Weird.

Your name written on it in dark red letters, reminding you of nothing else than blood.

You rip the cover off the letter, before you start reading it.

‘Welcome back home after a long day of solving cases and fucking your boss. Maybe you’re a better detective than I thought. Oh, my bad, I meant slut. Make sure to lock the door next time, babes.

Truly yours, your biggest fan,

— L.’

The piece of paper lands on the floor and so do you, when your knees give out. Tears start streaming down your face, blinding your vision.

Letters: 3

Suspect: unknown

🤍 AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you for reading this first chapter. this is the longest I've ever worked on a fic considering I started this last October (ignoring how Miroh is crying in the distance). I hope you liked this first part. I'm a bit insecure since it's a completely new genre for me and all. However, I'd very much appreciate it if you interact with the chapter in case you enjoyed it. Reblogs and comments are what motivates us authors the most! Thank you for considering this and for reading the whole chapter, have a nice day! :)

#i love the dynamics #chan is 🥵#also poor ji

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scarsnfevers · 5 months

Photo

my favorite binnie looks (215/∞)

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scarsnfevers · 5 months

Text

BANG CHAN ♡ NACIFIC SKZ's Little Forest

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scarsnfevers · 7 months

Text

Cherry Wine (18+)

summary: having a job that takes up all of your time caused a lot of stress. That's why your two friends Minho and Jisung have come up with something very special for your vacation together.

pairing: minho x fem. reader x jisung

genre: definitely smut

warnings: alcohol, threesome, orgasm denial, oral (f & m receiving), anal, double penetration, reader is called babygirl/angel/baby, praising kink, daddy kink (minho), hair pulling, unprotected sex

word count: ~7,3k

minors do not interact!

Having a job where you hardly got any rest was by now more than normal for you. You worked non-stop, even on weekends. Keeping important appointments or going out with friends was more of a rarity than the rule. All the more you were looking forward to your vacation, which was finally just around the corner.

It was early in the morning, the snow was high in front of the door when you stepped onto the terrace of your parent's house. Behind you, you put down your suitcase, which was full of sweaters, comfortable clothes, and your skiing equipment. Finally, the time had come. You were going to a Ski Resort with your two best friends Minho and Jisung to spend your two-week vacation in a log cabin on an idyllic lake.

You had planned such a vacation for a long time and now you three had finally found time.

A car turned into the street and unceremoniously stopped in front of your house. You were already approaching your friends when they got out of the car, which belonged to the oldest of the three of you. "Good morning." As a greeting, you hugged both of them. First Minho, the owner of the car, then Jisung. "So, ready for our adventure?" Grinned Jisung as Minho loaded your suitcase. "Absolutely." You nodded eagerly. "Can't wait." - "Then let's drive, the faster we'll be there." Minho euphorically flipped the trunk shut and encountered you with a smirk. You agreed and took your spot in the passenger seat while Jisung made himself comfortable in the back of the car. Minho got behind the wheel and finally looked at the two of you "Ready for the hottest vacation of our lives?" His wry grin made you giggle before you answered in unison with Jisung "Absolutely ready!"

The car started moving and soon you had left your hometown behind. You sat at your phone, checking the weather report "A snowstorm has been announced in the region in the coming hours." You blinked and looked at Minho. He looked intently at the road in front of him "Then we'd better hurry, we don't want to get stuck somewhere and snowed in the car." He said. The car accelerated on the open road that stretched lonely to the horizon. You leaned back and turned up the radio a little louder. Hopefully, you would make it to your destination before the blizzard.

❆

"Christ, what a snowstorm," Minho muttered to himself. You had almost reached your destination, but on the last kilometers, you were caught in the heavy snowstorm that you had announced earlier. You could hardly see the road in front of you, so the car was moving at a walking pace. "You have to turn right up ahead, where the lights are. Then we're there." You guided your best friend through the storm as well as possible. Minho finally managed to get you to your destination safely and in one piece. You could tell he was relieved to make it. He unbuckled his seatbelt and then looked at you "I'll quickly go do the registration and get the key. Wait here."

You hoped he would be back here before you get snowed in the car.

It took around twenty minutes for Minho to come back. Now you could finally unload your luggage and take it to the nearby cabin.

"WOW LOOK AT THAT!" Jisung's enthusiasm was hard to ignore as you stepped into your temporary home. And you were also very surprised when you walked through the front door after your buddy. "Better than expected." You raised your eyebrows and set your suitcase down next to you. You were greeted by the warmth of a fueled fireplace and the inviting ambiance of a two-story log cabin. While you were still peeling yourself out of your winter clothes, Jisung was already inspecting your cabin from head to toe "Guys, wow, look at this" he poked his head around the corner. "This kitchen is awesome, I'm sure we can cook well in here." You had to chuckle as your friend had the perfect comment for each and every room.

Minho stepped up next to you as he closed the door behind him "I see, Jisung likes it." Remarked the young man before looking at you. "Do you like it too?" It had been Minho's suggestion to go on such a trip. He had chosen the location and organized everything. You nodded at his question with a warm smile, "It's awesome. I can't wait to be here with you guys for the next few weeks. As long as the blizzard hopefully doesn't completely snow us in." Your words made Minho grin with satisfaction. "And even then, I'm sure we'll find something to do." You didn't take his words too seriously and dismissed them with a quiet laugh, "Yeah right."

You stepped into the open ambiance of the lodge and finally looked around a bit as well. You quickly decided on a room that had a wonderful view of the valley with its lake that stretched below the resort. Time was running and as you gradually settled into your temporary home as the smell of Jjajangmyeon rose to your nostrils as evening approached. Curious, you stepped downstairs to see who was inaugurating the kitchen. As you suspected, it was Minho.

For a moment you stopped in the doorway to the kitchen to look at your best friend. He must have just come out of the shower because his hair was still a little damp. Every now and then a drop or two of water found its way onto his black ribbed knit top, or onto his gray joggers, which he wore with it.

When Minho finally noticed you, you were still busy looking at your friend. "Hey Babo, how long are you going to stand there staring at me?" He considered you with a raised eyebrow. You blinked and rolled your shoulders back "It's rare to see such an attractive chef, I'll have to take my chances, huh?" You stepped up to help him cook. "So you find me attractive?" Minho inquired giggling, which caused your ears to turn slightly red. You knew this back and forth. It was a game of cat and mouse ever since you became friends. And every time you lost the game against him. Fleetingly you changed the subject while keeping your eyes on the stove, "Where's Jisung?" You wanted to know to which Minho clicked his tongue in amusement. He had won again "He's in the bathroom, just trying out the bathtub with whirlpool function." He replied, before adding. "You should try that one out too. It's really great." - "Later after dinner." You replied, still a little embarrassed by the conversation.

❆

"The food is brilliant, Minho." You sighed contentedly as all three of you sat at the table eating dinner. You had forgotten about the previous conversation in the kitchen by now. Jisung, who was sitting next to you, agreed with you, "Good thing we had the freezer with us. A pizza delivery guy would hardly have made it up here." He said before stuffing his mouth with the noodles in front of him the next moment. The idea of a pizza boy trying to drive up a snowy mountain on his scooter made you giggle in amusement, while Jisung was already continuing to talk. You listened to your best friend as the three of you ate together. "Hey how about we watch a movie later?" Jisung finally interjected to the group. "Hmm, sounds good." Minho said in response and you nodded as well. "Good idea."

After dinner, you cleared the table together and made sure the kitchen was clean again. Satisfied, you brushed a few strands of hair out of your face before leaving Minho and Jisung for a few minutes. You wanted to go to the bathroom before ending the evening with your two friends.

You retreated and headed into the large and really really nice bathroom with a towel and your favorite skin and hair products. You closed the door behind you and went to the large bathtub to fill it with water. In the meantime, you undressed, combed your hair and got rid of your makeup before you went into the warm water of the bathtub. A relaxed sigh escaped your mouth as you sank deep into the water, silently enjoying the moment. Outside, the blizzard was still raging as you looked out the window in front of you. Hopefully the weather had calmed down by tomorrow, or you would actually be snowed in. The thought was fleeting in your mind. However, you didn't want to keep Minho and Jisung waiting too long. Gently, you sat up in the bathtub to wash yourself and then climb out of the soothing water after you finished with everything. You dried yourself thoroughly from head to toe before slipping into a comfortable sweater and your favorite joggers. Now you were finally ready for movie night.

❆

After getting dressed in something comfortable you came downstairs to find Jisung and Minho already sitting on the couch in the open living room. They had made themselves comfortable and were talking about what movie you wanted to watch. "How about we take care of the snacks and something to drink first?" You interjected. The two men looked up at you. "Who wants to watch a movie without something to munch on?" You raised eyebrows. "Uh, good idea." Jisung agreed. However, it seemed like they forgot to include snacks and drinks on their list. Good thing they had you with them. "I've already taken care of it." You left the two unsuspecting to go into the kitchen.

All they could hear from the living room was the clinking of some glasses, porcelain and the crackling of plastic.

You finally stepped back into the living room with a large bowl of chips, three wine glasses and a matching wine bottle. You couldn't help but grin. The boys were astonished. "Wine? Did you have that in your suitcase?" Minho asked surprised. "Not just one bottle." You replied, giggling, as you placed everything on the couch table in front of you, as you made yourself comfortable between your two friends. "I didn't know you drink wine." Blinked Jisung, looking at you as he handed you a blanket to snuggle up in. "I don't. But the wine is really good. I drank it once with Hyunjin and Felix when they dragged me to a wine tasting." You explained. Minho, meanwhile, examined the bottle. "Cherry wine? Sounds pretty exotic." - "Tastes like it too. That makes it even better." You took the bottle from his hand to open it. Evenly, you divided the alcohol among the three glasses. "If it tastes just as good to you, I've taken precautions and have two more bottles up my sleeve." You mentioned casually. Jisung was the first to take one of the glasses. "Well, I'm curious about that." He said, swirling the wine lightly in the glass. You handed Minho the other and finally reached for your own. "Well, cheers then!"

❆

The bowl of chips was almost empty and so were your glasses. Probably this wouldn't have happened if the movie was so thrilling....or the wine tasted so good...

By now you had reached the second bottle. "I've never had such a good wine before." Remarked Minho, while you filled the glasses again. "Yes, it's great, huh?" You smirked with satisfaction and leaned back against the back of the couch. However, you felt yourself getting a little warm. Involuntarily, you brushed off the blanket that Jisung had given you earlier. Your buddy seemed to notice your discomfort. Jisung looked at you with his glass of wine in his hand "Are you alright?" He tilted his head slightly. He looked at you perhaps a little too long at that moment. You blinked fleetingly and answered evasively "Yeah, I uh, I think I'm just a little tense from all this stress at work." You explained, demonstratively grabbing your right shoulder. "Tense? Good thing I came along on this trip. I'm sure I can relieve that tension." Smiled the young man wryly. You raised your eyebrows before your brow furrowed with skepticism "Are you a masseur?" Your suspicion led Jisung to see this as a challenge of sorts. "No, but I've been told many times that I'm good at massages." You didn't know whether to trust that statement, but the alcohol in your blood made you brave. "All right, prove it." You took another sip from your glass before setting it down on the table in front of you. Your newfound way of countering Jisung's sayings had visibly surprised the young man. Normally you were not very good at that. He had no choice but to put his words into action. Jisung handed Minho his glass of wine before focusing on you "Okay uh, sit in front of me." He instructed you. You obeyed his instructions and placed yourself on the floor in front of him. "Like this?" You looked back at him. He had taken a seat behind you and cracked his hands before nodding at you. Your gaze slid back to the TV as you felt Jisung's warm hands on your shoulders. An unfamiliar feeling made itself known in that passing moment. A tingling sensation ran through your entire body. However, it was too short-lived to think about it further. The pleasant pressure that Jisung exerted on your tense shoulders made you sigh contentedly. It took quite a while before your muscles gradually began to relax. Still, it was a real relief. "For once you were right." You said with closed eyes. As you did so, you sank backwards slightly. You felt Jisung's legs on your back. "I didn't promise too much, huh?" You heard him reply. "Hmmmmmm." Did you only give of yourself. The soothing warmth surrounded you. Your head slowly sank against Jisung's thigh. "Pretty good." You murmured before you looked the young man headlong in the eyes.

He had paused as you looked on. "You okay?" Jisung asked. The questioning look in his eyes told you that you had probably gone a little bit too far. You blinked several times before slowly sitting up "Yeah, uhm, I'm fine. I feel much better already." You smiled briefly and sat back down on the couch with your friends. The heat had risen to your face in shame. Or was it the alcohol that turned your cheeks pink? Jisung, on the other hand, seemed to think nothing of it. He had refocused on the movie while holding his wine glass again. Meanwhile you took a sip from your glass of wine, but it went out shortly after. Your tasty source had dried up.

Still embarrassed by the little incident with you and Jisung, you lowered the glass from your lips. "Y/N?" Minho's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "Huh?" You turned to him and gave your friend a questioning look. "What?" You asked as Minho looked at you strangely. Had he noticed that something was wrong with you? Did he see that little scene as you had looked at Jisung so devotedly?

"You have something in your face" he finally announced to you. But instead of telling you where the mishap had happened, you felt his thumb gently stroking your lips to relieve you of that little accident. His gesture was unexpected and caught you off guard. You didn't move as you watched him lick his own thumb "What?" He finally asked. "This wine is delicious, we shouldn't be so wasteful with it." There was a cheeky grin on his lips as you could feel the fleeting tingle in your body again. However, it was now concentrated in a very specific spot.

You swallowed slightly "Y-yes, right." You replied irritatedly. You were still warm from this confusing situation that was happening. Was it the alcohol that was clouding your senses and playing tricks on you?

You watched Minho take the almost empty bottle and put it to his lips. He took a big gulp before looking at you, "You wanna taste it?" You hadn't taken your eyes off your friend the whole time and still you start at him in disbelief when he asked you that question. "Lee fucking Minho." Your pulse quickened, you became unbearably hot, and the tingling in your lower stomach grew stronger. What were you doing here? What were your friends doing here? You all had a very close and intimate relationship, but moments like this were new to you. Minho leaned forward a bit toward you "This will surely help you forget all the daily stress at work." He looked into your eyes. It was hard for you to follow his words, because at that moment everything inside you was going crazy. The smell of wine on Minho's breath hit your nose as he came a little closer to you, "Let us help Y/N. You need some distraction." You heard Jisung's voice behind you, while you were still looking at Minho, not knowing what to do. So your best friends wanted to help you find some relaxation? You didn't quite know what that would lead to or what they had in mind, but you couldn't resist either.

"Okay," you breathed. That was the command Minho had been waiting for. He closed the void between you and put his wine-stained lips on yours. At first, it was unfamiliar. After all, you were kissing one of your best friends, but Minho quickly made you forget that thought as his tongue began to dance with yours.

The sweet taste of wine mingled in your mouth as he pulled you on his lap. His arms slid around your waist so that you could lean against him. A contented sigh escaped your mouth as his hands found themselves on your buttocks. It almost seemed as if your lips wouldn't part until you heard Jisung whine "Man you guys are really having fun, what about me?" Gently you released your lips from Minho's as your eyes drifted to your other best friend "Come here." You breathed. Jisung didn't need to be told twice. He moved over to you before you kissed him without hesitation. Jisung was also a very good kisser, but he was hungrier and wilder than Minho and his passionate tongue play. You struggled to hold onto your other friend's lap as Jisung shifted his weight. Your fingers found themselves in his hair as you wrapped your arms around him. Minho, who had a good view from his position, watched the two of you contentedly. He probably could have done this all night long.

Out of breath, you finally released your lips from Jisung's. "The couch is pretty small, don't you think?" You rankled, looking at your two friends. "Hmm, I guess we should go somewhere else then?" Minho said in response to your observation. You exchanged a quick glance with Jisung before Minho lifted you up without a warning. "Hold on." He grinned at you as you gasped. Automatically you wrapped your legs around his waist so you had a better grip. Minho decided to carry you to your room. It had the best view and the nicest bed.

You felt the soft sheets under you as he loomed over you. He propped himself above you and smiled contentedly "Is this better for our angel?" The blush rose to your face before you nodded. "Good." He breathed and gave you another heartfelt kiss that literally had you floating on cloud nine. Gently, Minho positioned himself between your legs. Although you were both still fully clothed, you felt his rock-hard cock when he pressed his pelvis against yours. You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist. Minho made an amused sound and slightly released his lips from yours "Is that how you need it, angel?" He breathed. You swallowed and stroked your fingertips over his upper arms. "Yes, Daddy." Your touch gave Minho goosebumps, making him sigh contentedly. "Our angel will have to be patient." He finally replied as he moved away from you. Surprised you sat up. "W-what, why?" You gulped. There was an unbending lust raging inside you just waiting to be tamed, and you should wait? Minho looked at Jisung, who had made himself comfortable at the other end of the bed. You noticed them exchange a few glances until Minho raised his voice, "I'll be right back." The grin on his face was not lost on you as he left the room. Confused your gaze wandered to Jisung "What's he up to?" To have such an intense moment cut short from one moment to the next was more than excruciating for you. Jisung shrugged his shoulders "Wait and see." He slowly rose from the bed to step in front of you. Your gaze slid up to him as he gently placed his fingers under your chin "We can have fun until then babygirl." He began to grin. The knot in your abdomen tightened. You licked your lips "Can we?" Tenderly your fingers began stroking the soft material of Jisung's jogger. Your touches did not go without a reaction on his part. The further you wandered up the pants with your hands, the bigger the bulge above became. Finally you had reached Jisung's waistband. But his hand stopped you "Not yet" his voice was soft like honey, which made you sigh "Why not?" You purred. You noticed his smirk "First it's your turn." Before you knew it, you were back in the springs of your bed. Gently, Jisung stroked the waistband of your joggers down "I've often wondered what you look like in your underwear." He murmured. The world began to spin around you. "Oh really?" You gasped softly. The weight of the bed shifted as you felt Jisung lay down on the bed. He had placed himself with his face between your legs. His warm breath began to caress the insides of your thighs. The young man gave a soft "Hmmm." before adding "even more I want to see you naked." His kisses that kept moving up to your sensitive bundle of nerves took you to another dimension.

"I bet you taste really good." Whispered Jisung as he spread more kisses around the waistband of your panties.

You bit your lower lip impatiently.

"Taste me." You whispered.

You felt your panties slowly sliding down your legs and his warm breath moving over your pubic bone. "Is it that bad?" He asked, just to keep you on tenterhooks.

"Please, Jisung." Your right hand wandered frantically from the bed linen to his hair to sink your fingers into it.

"Okay angel, relax, you can forget about all this stress."

As his lips touched your clit you moaned loudly. Your back arched into a slight hunchback, causing Jisung to gently wrap his arms around your thighs, so you couldn't escape.

His tongue began to circle around your clit while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves every now and then. The pressure that built up inside your abdomen made you already completely wet. "Fuck Jisung." You moaned out loud. Your hips rolled rhythmically up and down, while his tongue danced tenderly over your clit.

You didn't know how long it had been since someone had touched you like this, so it was even more overwhelming for you. Your pelvis began to twitch uncontrollably under Jisung's tongue. "O-h my...fuck, I think I'm going to cum." You gasped, but just before you could find sweet release, Jisung pulled back "Don't cum babygirl." His face appeared in your blurry field of vision as you tried to hold back your orgasm. Jisung stroked your cheek gently before smiling "We don't want to end the fun too soon, do we?" You nodded in response before pulling him to you to kiss him. Your saliva began to mix together and you could taste your own sweet nectar as Jisung's tongue invaded your mouth. Your hands slipped under his gray hoodie, signaling the young man to finally get rid of it. "I want to see you naked too." You breathed on his lips, which made Jisung grin. "Then you shall."

Your closeness faded as he rose from the bed to remove his hoodie in front of you. You propped your forearms on the bed, trying to get a better look at him. And Jisung seemed to like it as well as your gaze slowly slid over his V-torso, lingering on his abs "You like it?" He grinned wryly before his hoodie landed on the floor. Your eyes met his "If I'd known you looked like that, I would have asked you to strip for me a lot sooner." A giggle escaped you at that. And Jisung laughed softly too "I think I have something better up my sleeve." His grip moved to the waistband of his joggers, which finally found its way to the floor, along with the boxers. Your eyebrows lifted slightly. The heat that rose in your cheeks was palpable. "Surprised?" Grinned Jisung as he found his way back to you. You swallowed and countered, "I've got something 'up my sleeve' too." With a fluid motion, you freed yourself from your thick sweater, which exposed your bare breasts. Only when you had set the garment aside did you catch a glimpse of Jisung's surprised expression. "You...didn't wear a bra all this time?" For the first time this evening he was now blushing too. The tables had turned. You smirked in satisfaction "No. I haven't." You confirmed his words.

"Fuck Y/N, you're dirty." He looked up at you, as you angled your legs so he could find room between them. Jisung propped himself above you and began to linger over your body with tender kisses. You closed your eyes and gave yourself completely to him.

His lips found their way to your already hard nipples. You moaned as he began to suck on them. As he did, his hard cock slowly stroked your entrance, causing you to whimper. "Jisung." Your arms locked behind his neck as he looked up at you "I need you. Now." You looked into your best friend's eyes. "I want to feel you." His pupils turned jet black as those words left your unholy mouth. "You sure you're ready for this angel? Maybe we should stretch you a bit with my fingers first?" But you just shook your head impatiently "No, I want you. Inside me." Your chest rose and fell with excitement, but what you didn't notice was Minho stepping back into the room. Only when you heard someone opening a wine bottle did you look around. "I see you've already prepared her really well Sungie." Minho stepped into your field of vision "Was he good to you babygirl?" You nodded out of breath while Jisung was still over you, gently caressing your neck. "Please." At that moment, you didn't know which of your friends you were actually talking to, but you didn't care. "Need you." Your pelvis pressed against Jisung's, but he made no move. Impatiently you let out an exasperated moan, which made Minho giggle "Patience baby." He sat down next to you and Jisung while holding the wine bottle. "We want to make it as nice as possible for you." He leaned towards you to put the wine bottle to your lips. The sweetness of the cherries reached your throat before you gulped down the wine as Minho sealed his lips with yours a moment later, tasting the flavor of the alcohol on his own lips. The kiss was short, but full of passion. Just as he was about to pull away, you held him to you "Please Daddy, tell Sungie to fuck me." You breathed. Your gaze fixed him so that he had to look at you. Full of amusement Minho began to grin "Is that what our angel wants?" He asked, to which you nodded impatiently.

"Then our angel shall have what she wants."

When you felt Jisung's rock-hard cock sliding into your tight wet hole, you literally lost your mind. Your thoughts faded away. Your head went completely blank. You moaned out loud as Jisung straddled you. "God you're so tight" It took you a moment to adjust to his length as he slowly began to move inside you.

Your focus now shifted completely to him. Your arms wrapped around him and pulled him to you "Oh my god Jisung." You murmured as you buried your face against his shoulder. "Yeah baby?" You could feel him twitching inside of you as his pace began to build up. "Don't stop."

Your breasts began to bounce up and down at the soon-to-be merciless pace Jisung has reached. "Look at her." Moaned the young man as he placed your right leg over his shoulder. His gaze slid briefly to Minho "So beautiful for us."

Minho agreed and stroked a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingertips tenderly danced over your chin, down to your neck, finally reaching your hard nipples which he gently kneaded between his thumbs. He knew exactly how much you liked this. You had told him about it once, when you were both quite drunk....

A loud animalistic moan escaped your mouth "Fuck, feels so good." You murmured, pushing your head back into the mattress. Jisung's arms which were wrapped around your leg, began to close tighter around it. "Fuck Y/N" he moaned, his fingertips pressing into your soft skin. You felt him getting closer to his orgasm as well. His hips began to jerk uncontrollably and with each thrust he grew harder inside of you. The thought of Jisung squirting into you and painting your inner walls completely white clouded your mind and brought you closer and closer to your own high. The tingling became more and more present "Please, let me cum!" You squealed out. But you were to be denied your orgasm for the time being. "Not yet angel." Jisung groaned out. "Hold it. I'm doing it too. Let's wait a little longer." His voice sounded strained as his movements became uneven, making you whimper. God how could you stand it?

Finally, Jisung released your leg and leaned down to give you a gentle kiss on the forehead. "How about we get Daddy Hyung involved?" He suggested to you. You were still quite out of breath as your gaze slid to your other friend. Minho had set aside the wine bottle and was looking at you intently. Jisung looked at him as well and began to grin as you squirmed under him to turn to Minho. He raised one of his eyebrows and gave you a questioning, yet challenging expression. You knelt next to him and slowly stroked your fingers over the black ribbed knit sweater, lingering on the zipper that had slipped down slightly. "May I?" You breathed, meeting his gaze. Minho's eyes darted over your face and lingered on your slightly swollen lips that Jisung had already been playing with. "Don't keep me waiting, angel." The sound of zipping cut through the room, while your legs still trembled. You had not yet fully digested Jisung's attack on you.

You exposed Minho's upper body with a swift movement of your hands and paused for a moment as you looked at him. Your counterpart began to grin "Do you like it baby? I know what I would like right now." Minho murmured to you and grabbed you by your wrists to pull you to your feet. He brought you to the foot of the bed and pushed you down onto the mattress so your pussy was more accessible to him. Minho didn't waste any time and began to penetrate you with two of his fingers. You moaned and clawed at the bed sheet. However, you hardly had time to breathe. You felt someone lightly pulling your hair to make you look up. Into your field of vision came Jisung's, still stone-hard cock. "Come on babygirl, don't forget about me." Grinned the young man at you as he pressed his cock against your lips.

Without hesitation, your mouth closed around his member. Jisung groaned and sank back into the bed "Such a good girl." He praised you. "Such a beautiful mouth. How good you're at it." He ran his hand through his hair as your head moved up and down. You couldn't hide your own moan as Minho inserted another finger inside you and deftly circled your clit with his thumb. That alone could have made you cum. You felt yourself clenching around his fingers. "Fuck Y/N, now I know why Jisung almost came so fast earlier." Gasped Minho. Your legs started to shake again as he found the sweet spot inside of you. A muffled moan escaped your lungs as Jisung's cock twitched deep in your throat.

Minho bent over you and gently kissed your back, tenderly caressing your skin and finally removing his fingers from your soaking wet hole, replacing them with his own cock. You didn't stop spoiling Jisung's member with your tongue as you felt Minho sliding inside of you, causing you both to groan loudly. He barely gave you time to get used to his cock. Minho was hungry, hungry to chase after yours and his own high. Slowly he began thrusting into you, holding you by your hips. You couldn't hide how much this turned you on. As a result, you began to suck harder on Jisung's cock. Your moans harmonized with each other. Every time Minho thrust harder into you, he earned a sweet reaction from you before Jisung joined in shortly after with your tongue play.

Minho's speed began to increase, causing him to let out a deep drawn out growl. You had a hard time keeping your head still and concentrating on Jisung's cock, because all you could focus on right now was Minho inside you, pounding into you relentlessly, hitting your weak spot every time. You almost started to gag as Jisung's member slid deep into your throat, causing the young man to moan loudly, "Oh my god Y/N." Your spit ran down his cock as you held back the gag reflex until Minho grabbed you by the hair and jerked you up to him. His left arm wrapped around you while he still held you by the hair with his other hand while you were seeing stars. "Such a good angel." His lips met your neck as he thrust into you graciously. You gasped as his teeth seared into your soft skin. Tears formed in your eyes from the sweet pain, rolling down your cheeks. Meanwhile, Jisung watched the whole spectacle, making sure with his own hand that he was not too far from his finale.

Minho's tongue finally began to caress his bite marks until he stroked up to your ear "Tell us what you want baby." He murmured. "How do you want to cum?" His words were like music in your ears, barely audible and yet so heavenly.

It was hard for you to form a clear thought at his devilish speed. Each thrust into your tight, dripping hole made you whimper as your vision blurred. It took you a moment before you could gradually answer.

"There's something w-what, fuck oh my, t-that I've always wanted to try." You gasped, biting your lower lip. "Tell us babygirl." Groaned Minho, burying his face against your shoulder.

"I want you both in my holes." Your voice was like an Aphrodisiac for the two men. Minho moaned and pulled you even closer to him so that it almost took your breath away "Please, please don't make me wait." You panted and effortfully lifted your head to look at Jisung, who was looking at you with his cock in his hand in surprise. Minho groaned, still holding you tightly. His thrusts slowed down, which is why you took a breath for a moment. "If that's what our angel desires, then she shall have it." He growled softly and slowly let go of you. Your legs were already pure pudding, which is why you shakily made your way back to the bed, only to land in Jisung's arms. He welcomed you with a smile and brushed your hair out of your face "Hey baby." You had to smile and climbed over him "Hey Sungie." Carefully you propped yourself up on his torso while Minho also made his way to the bed and positioned himself behind you. His warm chest touched your back so he could look at you and Jisung. "Are you sure you want this?" He asked again and kissed you on the cheek. You didn't have to think long. You were sure. "Yeah, absolutely." You breathed, snuggling up to him. Between your legs, your nectar was already oozing down, wetting Jisung's cock, which was twitching longingly. He couldn't wait to be inside your tight pussy again.

Minho moved away from you while Jisung put his arms around you and pulled you down to him. He captured you in a long passionate kiss as he slowly slid into you. You felt every inch inside you, every twitch and vein of his cock against your throbbing walls. You moaned softly, melting into Jisung as he slowly thrust into you. Meanwhile, Minho was preparing your other hole for his own cock. You felt his finger, moistened with spit, running over your entrance. He gave you the time you needed before he gently pushed his finger into your tight hole. This new feeling made you gasp in the kiss, which is why you abruptly released your lips from Jisung's. "Hey shhh, it's alright Angel." Tenderly the young man stroked your cheek. "Minho will do it slow and carefully, so you can get used to it." He breathed before Jisung kissed you again. The heat rose to your face, but you tried to relax. At first, it was uncomfortable and strange, but after a few minutes passed, you got used to the new feeling. You sighed softly, letting yourself drift. With each successive thrust of Jisung and the movements of Minho's finger, the knot in your abdomen began to tighten. Your moans grew louder as you got closer to your high.

"Hey Angel." Minho's voice brought you back to reality. "Are you ready for my cock?" Your eyes opened and you had to gasp. "So ready." You answered him. You finally wanted to feel him. You didn't know what was coming, but you couldn't wait any longer. Just like Minho.

You sucked in your breath sharply as he penetrated your ass. At first, it was pain that made itself felt, which is why you stiffened, but Jisung's fingers finding their way to your clit quickly made you forget. Minho remained in his position and gave you enough time to relax again. The distraction Jisung gave you was just the right thing.

"Is that good baby?" His fingers circled your clit as he began to thrust into you faster. Your head went completely blank. You were a fucking mess. With Jisung in your tight wet pussy and Minho in your ass, you could hardly think straight. "Oh my god." Your face buried itself against Jisung's shoulder. The tingling was now clearly noticeable. You wouldn't last much longer.

Your pussy was literally sucking in Jisung's cock, causing him to increase his speed and groan out "God Y/N you feel so good."

And Minho also gasped behind you as he began thrusting into you. If this was heaven, you had definitely found it. You clenched around Jisung's cock as your ass was completely stretched out by Minho's member. Your whole body began to tremble as Jisung's fingers relentlessly massaged your clit. Your pelvis twitched incessantly, which is why Minho reached out to hold you in place. "Please don't stop-" you gasped, burying your face in the pillow next to Jisung's head. Still, he had you wrapped tightly in his arms so you couldn't escape his cock. He snuggled up to you, which made you look at him. Your eyes were filled with tears as you finally wanted to find your release. He put his hand gently on the back of your neck and looked at you with a smile "It's okay Angel, let go. Cum for us." He breathed and pulled you into a passionate kiss. At that moment, all the weight fell off of you. All the stress that had accumulated in you over the past few months fizzled out the moment your orgasm burst upon you.

"Fuck, g-gonna cum!" You were glad you had a lonely cabin in the mountains because otherwise, someone would definitely have heard you screaming.

Minho and Jisung sped up once again as your high took you over completely. Your whole body twitched and started shaking as you let out a mixture of screams and moans as the knot in your abdomen abruptly loosened. You buried your face against Jisung's shoulder while your two friends helped you savor your high to the end.

Your tight holes pulsated while Minho and Jisung were still chasing their own high. You could barely hold on as Jisung fucked your sensitive pussy at a merciless pace. "Fuck, I'm close." He moaned loudly. His fingers eased off your clit to give him a better grip on your body. A few more thrusts followed until the young man finally came inside you with a loud curse. His cock twitched inside you and filled your pussy with his cum to the last drop. Your legs trembled tirelessly while Minho was still penetrating your ass. "Shit you two look really hot." He grinned and slapped your right buttcheek. You groaned out and began to carefully lean over Jisung so he could gasp for air too. "Is that so?" You panted in response to Minho's observation. "Does Daddy like that?" You felt his cock twitch at those words. "Hmm Daddy really likes it." Groaned Minho before his head sank into his neck. His grip on your hips tightened and his pace increased. "Tell me angel, where do you want me to cum? In your sweet ass or should I cum in your tight pussy with Sungie's cum?" Both options were so tempting. Everything was still spinning around you, which is why you closed your eyes "Fuck me in the pussy." You moaned softly. "Fuck your cum in me."

After one last thrust into your ass, he slid out of you to penetrate your wet and cum-filled hole right after.

Minho's release came suddenly and with a loud moan. His warm semen mixed with Jisungs as he could no longer hold himself up as his cock twitched inside you, caressing your inner walls. You felt Minho leaning against you as he was completely out of breath.

The room filled with gasps and three friends panting for air.

It took you a while to finally find the strength to lay your head on Jisung's chest. His rose and fell just as out of breath as yours. "Fuck, that was amazing." You murmured exhaustedly as Minho slowly slid out of you to join you. Jisung put his arm around you while Minho snuggled up to you from behind and tenderly kissed your shoulder "I hope our angel is feeling better now." On your skin, you could feel him smiling. You had to giggle and replied to him "Much better, thanks to you."

"We should do this more often." Remarked Jisung. "Whenever Y/N feels stressed." You had to laugh exhaustedly at his words. "Sounds good, I'm in."

Happy and content, the three of you snuggled up to spend the rest of the night together.

You would take care of the mess later.

You made it! Thank you reading! Please reblog and comment if liked this oneshot 🍒

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scarsnfevers · 8 months

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sheep haired quokka

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scarsnfevers · 10 months

Text

My 3 biases what?! Why I am always late, oml, I read all chapters right away and now I want more.

LEVANTER MASTERLIST— [18+!]

It is really the infamous Han Jisung.

It’s him. Without a doubt.

He’s got a lot more tattoos than back then. Around his wrists. On his neck. He’s also wearing more rings around his fingers than he used to.

Those pretty fingers.

God, the hours you’ve wasted by daydreaming about him…

⛓️ SYNOPSIS: It seems as if everyone around you is living life to the fullest—except for you. While you recently got fired and on top of that broke up with your on-off boyfriend again, your best friend Chan is there for you while simultaneously preparing everything for his wedding. But things get a little more hopeful when you meet an old friend on a night out.

💊 CONTENT INFO: jisung x afab reader, chan x afab reader, minho x afab reader, gang/mafia au, angst/smut/fluff, gang leader jisung, doctor chan, gang member minho, pharmacist reader, best friend chan, jisung and chan are enemies, jisung and minho are best friends, reader has adhd, they are flawed characters and you should keep that in mind, chan, jisung and reader used to be roommates during their college days, warnings under the cut

💵 WORD COUNT: [ONE] 75K + [TWO] ?/? + [EXTRA] 12.7K

CHAPTERS:

[PART ONE]

[I] — MEDICINE

[II] — CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART?

[III] — TRUE FRIENDS

[IV] — JOIN THE CLUB

[V] — DOOMED [LIVE AT DISTRICT 9]

[PART TWO]

[VI] — TEARDROPS

more to be added…

[EXTRAS]

SUGAR HONEY ICE & TEA

🔪 CONTENT WARNING: lots of illegal stuff (obviously), topics of heavy drug dealing and mention of using, mention of robbery, threats and violence (nothing explicit), mention of unrequited love, mental health topics such as depression, anxiety, addiction, PTSD, mommy issues, borderline personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder and adhd, mention of bullying in the past, alcohol consumption and cigarette smoking, mention of murder, mention and slight use of guns, abuse of power, mention of abusive parent (verbally and physically), topics revolving around cheating, jealousy and open relationships, gaslighting, smut will be specified for each chapter (it is possible that I will add more warnings throughout the writing process)

🧨 SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

❤️ AUTHOR’S NOTE: let me know in case you would like to be added to the taglist!

#delulu phase activated

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scarsnfevers · 10 months

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Oml finally! This is soooo good! Tan this is amazing~

SAKURA — [18+!]

“What are you saying? Y-You think I’m pretty and smart?”

Fuck. He cannot turn the conversation around and made a complete fool out of himself as it seems.

“I–“ He takes a deep breath.

“Listen. If you were my girlfriend–“

Jisung stops himself again when he sees your eyes widen.

🌸 SYNOPSIS: After seeing your ex with the girl he told you not to worry about, you rush to the café your roommate works at but find Jisung there instead. Despite being in the same friend group, he has always hated your ex and consequently ignored you, too. So, why on earth is he taking care of you then, once you start crying and explain what happened?

This is my entry for skzwritingcafe‘s May/June event “Blossoming Love”!

🍒 CONTENT INFO: jisung x afab reader, enemies/frenemies to lovers, angst/smut/fluff, kinda ‘only one bed’ trope, mutual pining, college au, barista jisung, reader is demisexual although not explicitly mentioned, reader is referred to as girlfriend once, content warnings and smut tags under the cut

🧁 WORD COUNT: 12.4K

☁️ CONTENT WARNING: alcohol consumption, mention of breakup, mention of cheating, past toxic relationship, insecurities and taking the blame for other people’s faults, jealousy, slut shaming

🍰 SMUT: dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi-protected piv, praise kink, possessiveness, marking (m receiving), one pussy slap, dacryphilia, name calling (pretty, good girl, baby, slut)

The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nswf content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.

You knew it.

You fucking knew it.

Time to pick out that expensive colour palette and draw a stupid clown face on your skin.

After today you will definitely need it.

‘No need to be jealous of her, dear,’ he said back then. And you believed his bullshit.

But what disgusts you the most is the fact it took him less than a month to jump into a new relationship with the girl he told you not to worry about—as it seems, judging the fact you just saw them with your own awake eyes holding hands in public, bickering into each other's ears.

Maybe it has even been going on longer than a month but you don’t want to think about that. Well, you can’t. It makes your stomach twist and turn, an uncomfortable knot in your lungs making it hard to breathe.

That’s the last thing you needed to see. Even injecting bleach in your veins sounds like a five star party in comparison to that. You would rather much live in ignorance, unaware of what you witnessed.

Your fight or flight reflex decided for the latter—actually mentally healthier, once you will have a chance to rethink this situation with a clear mind. But not for now. Escape is your best friend this evening.

Especially, since your actual best friend and roommate, Lee Felix, left the apartment without his charger and for once again his phone must have died some time ago. Not a big problem—you decide to go home instead, already looking forward to some spicy instant ramyeon, an unopened bottle of soju and a new series on Netflix you wanted to start days ago.

But—as it seems today is the worst day to ever exist—and you get reminded of it when you stand in front of your apartment building’s door, ready to open it with your keys. One small problem occurs—you must have left those keys at home. Inside. Just a door, a hallway and another door separating you from it.

You sigh and let your head fall back in annoyance, before you check the time on your phone’s dim lit screen, reading 21:48.

It’s late enough to head to a bar and that’s exactly what you do, finding yourself in a dark, stuffy pub half an hour later, sipping on your second Somaek of the night. The atmosphere doesn’t really brighten up your mood but the alcohol for sure does. The third drink in, you can feel yourself get dizzy, scrolling through the apps on your phone.

Felix still hasn’t texted you but you remember that he met with Hyunjin, telling you they really really have to get some project done for one of his classes that he has failed before. So, you decide to not annoy him further. It’s your fault anyway. You’re the one that forgot their keys and you’re also the one that overreacts completely, whenever the tiniest inconvenience triggers some bad emotions to bubble up.

You just want to start over. You don’t want to be caught in this endlessly running wheel like a stupid hamster. Yes, your ex has left many scars that will bring up the past for some time whenever you think back of it. But you simply don’t want that anymore.

You’re craving closure, real closure. A love that is blossoming with passion instead of coldness, blooming with honesty instead of lies and shining bright with trust instead of doubts.

However, you are aware that those things don’t exist. Maybe in the arts although you’re not quite convinced about that either. No matter if it’s the eighth Netflix show you put on this week but can’t even get through a whole episode, some book you laid aside after it got too unrealistic or a movie they showed in the cinema that makes you mad you spent as much money on a small bag of popcorn as on the ticket itself.

Nothing really touches your heart anymore, nothing gets under your skin. That’s what he did to you.

Or maybe you’re just overthinking, over exaggerating like you always do once the booze hits your brain. You should stop drinking, be responsible. Despite that, there are too many men seeking your attention in this pub and that’s the last thing you want.

Yes, you said you need closure. But not that kind. Well, you need to get laid, too. However, some random idiot isn’t your first choice. It’ll maybe help you forget about your ex but this still isn’t the passion that you need. You’ve never needed someone like this. You crave intimacy that’s characterised by trust. So, how is some stranger supposed to know what satisfies you anyway?

Not even your ex was able to do that. Which makes the fact you’re still crying about that little shit even more pathetic. But, well, at least you know that he won’t be able to make that girl—that he told you not to worry about—cum and that kind of leaves a little triumph to you. At least something.

Maybe you really need to start over. But dating is so fucking exhausting these days. No one wants anything serious anymore and isn’t even interested in getting to know a person first. You’ve never really enjoyed casual hook-ups. You don’t have to be absolutely in love with someone to have passionate, mind-blowing sex with them but there has to be some type of emotional connection, something that keeps you going and already lets you roll your eyes to the back of your head at the sheer thought of their fingers grazing over your skin.

There’s only one person you’ve ever had this dynamic, this utmost wild chemistry with, although nothing has ever happened between the both of you.

Because, unfortunately, you don’t really get along with him. Well, you do. He is the one that is always avoiding you. You’re not even friends but tend to see each other quite often since you’re part of the same group. Still, there’s a special connection between you although it’s hard to believe.

God. You already sense him making fun of you once he finds out that your ex must have been cheating on you. He was already so fucking happy about your breakup. The smile that was plastered all over his stupid, beautiful face was disgusting.

Yes. Your ex and you had been a couple for many years but you’ve never managed to get that other stupid boy out of your head. There’s something about the look in his big brown eyes that he’s got whenever he looks at you after defeating you in yet another round during board game night.

There’s been some tension between the both of you throughout all these years. But not in a common, usual way. It’s a heated desire that under all the hate and mess wants to be more, wants to be the opposite. He has never been necessarily mean to you, simply ignored you and maybe made fun of you during games but that’s it. Still, you’ve always seeked his attention and some delusional part inside your heart tells you he does the same.

God, Y/N. You’re a hopeless little fool.

You feel your thoughts drifting away further, the surroundings becoming as unimportant as your silly little dreams and hopes.

Until two very familiar faces approach the table next to yours. The two plop down on the seats. He helps her out of her jacket, before they start skimming through the menu.

Out of all the pubs, bars and lounges in this freaking big city he chooses to bring the girl he’s told you not to worry about to this stupid place. Idiot. God, you hate him so much. You hate her so much.

There’s an uncomfortable feeling bubbling up in your chest. They haven’t spotted you yet but the urge to go to their table and down the rest of your drink all over him is within reach.

No. Calm the fuck down, Y/N. You’re better than that. You’re better than him. Better than both of them.

Until the waiter comes to their table and even though it’s crowded and loud in here, you’re close enough to catch parts and bits of their conversation.

‘Welcome, my favourite couple.’

‘We’re glad you’re here once again.’

‘Happy five month anniversary.’

Well. You finally have honesty now. A little late but at least you don’t have to worry anymore, think about the ‘what ifs’ and so when you’re indeed aware that he cheated on you.

Maybe the healing process will be easier this way, knowing you can fully blame it on him. If your heart and insecurities let you grasp that.

You want to start over. Be better than him. Better than all this. Ready for a blossoming love that has been waiting for you all this time.

But maybe not today.

At least that’s how you justify your actions, when the liquid in your half empty glass spills all over your ex’s head and you rush out of the venue, knowing for sure you will never go here again anyway.

🌸

Half an hour and half a bottle of water you bought at some shady convenience store later, your bladder announces itself. Fuck. You should have used the bathroom at that pub before probably gaining a ban on entering that place again.

Still no message from Felix which means still no possibility to go home.

You could just go to the next bar, sure. But you’ve lost your interest in getting shit-faced or talking to some stranger a long time ago.

Grabbing your phone from your pants’ pocket, you open Google Maps and search around in the area your drunk self has brought your feet to until you realise you’re pretty close to the workplace of that friend who isn’t replying to you and has the only other key to your shared apartment.

Perhaps, Felix is at the café he works at. He usually gets school stuff done there with Hyunjin, snacking the last delicious brownies that weren’t sold that day and sipping on one caffeinated beverage after another.

You’ll see. Maybe they’re even still open and you can get some lemonade or cupcake to fight against the dizziness in your head. The water has helped a bit but not quite enough. You’re still tipsy and fear having a hangover tomorrow because you mixed different types of alcohol together.

Fuck. You really shouldn’t have drunk out of impulsiveness but unfortunately impulsiveness is practically your middle name.

A little walk later, you end up in front of the house right at the corner of the street. The lights in the café are still turned on. However, the sign reading ‘closed’ shines just as bright. You decide to enter nonetheless. The whole crew knows you quite well, since many people from your friend group work here.

Pushing the door open, you enter the building. It smells like blueberry muffins, hot chocolate and vanilla brownies. A slight scent of cherries makes it into your nostrils, helping you feel at ease. They have always been your favourite fruit—reminding you of safety and better days, the blossoming leaves on their trees a metaphor for a new start that you so exhaustingly crave.

You take a few steps further, walking around and spotting some used dishes at the counter. There’s no sound coming from the kitchen. Maybe one of the employees is taking a break before they get back to cleaning up the place.

And Felix isn’t here to study with Hyunjin. Dammit.

Where did that freckled boy go?!

You stay there for a few minutes—standing rooted in the spot, as you contemplate maybe quickly using the bathroom and in case Felix’s colleague gets aware of it, you will just explain the situation to them.

After a quick fresh up and somewhat regaining some dignity despite still being pretty much shit-faced, you decide to have a short pause. That’s why you sink down on one of the chairs, checking your phone but still no message from Felix or anyone else.

This is ridiculous.

Just like your whole fucking life.

You let out a deep groan that’s followed by a sigh.

And then—out of the blue—a voice startles you, making you jump up again from your seat.

“What do you want here?”

It’s Jisung.

The Jisung.

Your longtime enemy—whom you have that incredible tension with—that happens to be a part of your friend group. He has always been adored by all the members. Well except for one.

Your ex.

They’ve never gotten along.

And maybe that’s why Jisung has always ignored you, too.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

His voice sounds annoyed which isn’t news. He’s always made you feel as if you don’t… exist. Basically ignored you to a point that it made you feel like you’re air.

What you don’t know is that Jisung does in fact view you like air—but more like oxygen. A slightly addicting, toxic oxygen which molecules make him dependent on you so he decided to stay away from you instead to save both you and him. But he still needs you in order to survive.

Apart from that, he has always in fact despised your now ex boyfriend. Not just because of the fact he was with you and—in Jisung’s opinion—not treating you as you deserve. He has never liked the dude in general.

But it’s just now that he realises that his voice suddenly came off too harsh, twice. Fuck. He just can’t think straight around you. Or think at all.

“Yeah– sorry– I d-didn’t know where else to go and I saw the lights were still on in here…” you confess now, as little sniffles fill the room.

Jisung finally grasps that you’re intoxicated and probably confused, maybe don’t even know why you came here and he won’t blame you. He would never. But he’s just as confused, too.

“Y/N… you’re drunk, aren’t you? Why else would you stay when Felix isn’t here? You hate me,” he says and those last three words are so small and almost inaudible but you still catch them.

You don’t hate Jisung. It’s more of a reaction of the lack of interest and almost disliking towards you he has made sure to constantly rub into your face for the past four years.

But that’s not the current debate of the synapses inside your brain.

You don’t want to break down. Not in front of him. Or anyone.

But you’re drunk. You’re exhausted. You are so fucking tired of all this.

There’s no control over the words, they simply spill out of your mouth, slip from your lips.

“I… He… He– He cheated on me.”

You burst out into tears then, eyeliner and mascara ruined as the black paint runs down your face. You hide your eyes behind the palms of your hands and everything becomes a blur, your sobbing the only sound you’re listening to.

“Fucking asshole,” you hear Jisung in the distance.

Footsteps echo through the room and suddenly he’s so close to you that it makes your heart skip a beat and you don’t quite understand why it does that.

Your enemy pulls you into a hug then and your whole body paralyses, as he softly strokes your back. His hand wanders up to your head, giving it a few little pats.

“Okay. Listen,” he begins again, “you’re obviously drunk. I’ll prepare some food and water for you.”

You let go of him for a second, searching for any sarcasm in his words.

“Why are you so kind?”

Jisung blinks, a little surprised you ask him this question and he can’t differentiate if you’re astonished by him being kind while being your long time enemy or if you don’t expect any kindness from anyone at all. To not add any fuel to the drama, he settles for the second option.

“Don’t praise me for the bare minimum, Y/N. That dude really left some scars.”

Jisung brushes with his hand over your head a second time, before he grabs a tissue. Just when he is about to guide the paper to your swollen eyes, he decides against it and places it in your hand instead.

You wipe some of the tears and mascara away but it doesn’t help that much.

“Here, have some water and a bagel first and tell me what happened,” he says a little later. Jisung sits down on the other side of the table, as he gives you the drink and food.

The tears arrive again when you realise how kind Jisung is to you and that your ex would have never done the same if you showed up at his place after a mental breakdown.

Jisung watches you drink a bit and take a bite from the cake before he hands you another tissue when you spill some of the liquid, the droplets running down your chin and throat.

It takes everything within him to not lose his mind. This is fucking inappropriate. You come here devastated, bawling your eyes out and Jisung’s head is filled with the ideas that aren’t supposed to be there. But your makeup is smudged and the tears are streaming down your cheeks again. Jisung feels like the biggest perv on this planet that your crying face makes him think of unholy thoughts he shouldn’t have.

“Why would… why would you listen?”

His heart breaks. He’s back in reality at least. He assumes it’s caused by your insecurities but he fears that he’s responsible for your distrust, too. After all, he’s never really approached you these past years, staying as far from you as possible. He’s got his reasons for that as well but he could never speak them out loud to you. That would be the end.

“It’s just an offer. I won’t leave you alone like this.”

He wants to say more.

“T-Thank you.”

You thought he hated you? Well, he’s never explicitly said that. But he’s acted that way by ignoring you constantly and since he does in fact dislike your ex boyfriend—which was communicated many times and is a mutual feeling—you assumed Jisung hates you, too.

“I… you remember the girl my ex brought along at our last board game nights?”

Oh, he definitely does. He’s never liked her either and didn’t quite understand why she tagged along with your now ex when he was still with you back then. Inviting a friend is one thing but giving them all attention instead of you, their partner, is a line crossed. Jisung would never do something like this if he was your boyfriend.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. He’s taking a sip from his water, too. Jisung is already expecting the worst and he wouldn’t be surprised if your ex is either now with her or has already had something going on during your relationship.

“Well… I–“

Your throat cuts off the words. Another sniffle escapes and you wipe away the tears once more.

“It’s alright, Y/N. Whenever you’re ready, yeah?”

You nod, trying to ignore the confusion in your head and the butterflies in your heart when his hand softly grazes over your own.

“I saw them together… after my class. So, I wanted to get out of there, just ran away and ended up in some bar. Unfortunately, they had to choose that location as well and I overheard their conversation…”

He is still stroking your hand, attentively listening to every syllable you let out.

“I found out that way that this has been going on for five months, therefore he cheated on me and I got so angry, I spilled my beverage all over his head and–“

“You did what?”

There’s a proud smile on Jisung’s face but due to the countless tears blinding your vision you don’t see it.

“D-Downed my drink on him– fuck, I should really call him and apologise–“

“What?! Why would you apologise?”

Jisungs scoffs. He can’t believe you are taking the blame for such a disgusting thing your ex did. Your reaction is more than understandable. If he was in your position or even saw him do this to you, he would have done way more than that. That bastard deserves all of it.

“He’s… he’s probably got his reasons to choose her,” you quietly say, head hanging low.

“That fucking asshole cheated on you and you’re the one taking the blame?”

Jisung can’t decide if he’s more angry or sad—the dude has practically smashed your self confidence to the ground and stomped on it when you were already on the floor.

“I’ve seen her… You know her, too. She’s prettier and smarter than me anyway.”

Jisung does know your ex’s new girlfriend. After all he invited her to every fucking board game night after they became ‘friends’.

“Okay, Y/N. First of all, there’s no one smarter or prettier than you. Second of all, don’t put the blame on yourself. That’s something I noticed you’re doing quite often. I get that. I know where it’s coming from, but it’s not good for you. If people treat you like their doormat, you have to fight back.”

The synapses of your brain shut off for a moment. If that’s possible. Nonetheless, you can’t think straight. But, well, you’re never able to think at all if you’re around Jisung.

Did he… did he just say you’re pretty and smart?

As if one compliment wasn’t already enough to make your head spin.

“What are you saying?”

Jisung’s eyes hastily blink, a cough follows. He’s readjusting himself, slightly feeling caught but he knows he can turn the conversation around and maybe not make a complete fool out of himself.

“You should stand up for yourself,” he repeats.

“N-No… I know that, in theory. I meant the first thing… y-you think I’m pretty and smart?”

Fuck. He cannot turn the conversation around and made a complete fool out of himself as it seems.

“I–“ He takes a deep breath.

“Listen. If you were my girlfriend–“

Jisung stops himself again when he sees your eyes widen.

“He’s a fucking piece of shit. End of discussion.”

You hold back a giggle and decide to keep wondering if there is more behind those words.

Pretty.

Smart.

Both of it.

Wow.

You take another bite from the bagel—it’s filled with hummus and grilled vegetables—as well as the last sip from your water, before you place the glass back on the round table with a thud.

“What would you like to drink? It’s on the house,” Jisung offers.

He’s already standing up, still severly embarrassed, as he disappears behind the counter. You stand up too, approaching him as if it’s the middle of the day and you’re making your usual order.

It’s rare that Jisung has a shift when you’re here but when he ends up having one, he usually grants you the same nothing of attention as he usually does.

So, this is all so new. Him talking to you. Offering you another drink. Listening to you.

Gosh, you will never get over this stupid crush on him if he–

Fuck.

Well, it’s no secret towards yourself anyway. Hasn’t been anymore for a long time now. But you have always tried to not give it too much thought, knowing he doesn’t like you back.

However, your view shifts a little with these two words.

Pretty. Smart.

It’s the most mundane compliment. But sometimes it’s not that much about what you say and rather about how you say it. Just the way he accidentally slipped it between those other words makes your knees go weak.

“So, what would you like?”

His voice drags you out of your daydreams, bringing you back to reality—somewhat.

Caffeine would be nice.

“Can I have an iced coffee?”

Jisung grabs a fresh glass and the ingredients.

“Sure.”

You don’t know what it is, maybe the comfort, the fun, the general safety to be around him—which the Y/N from half an hour ago would have never believed exists—but you get a little more open around him and with this the urge to tease him grows rapidly.

“You’re not gonna ask me if I want anything with that? Like extra whipped cream, caramel sirup–“

He sighs. “Would you like some extras with that?”

It’s fun being like this. After all he deserves it for the things he’s put you through those past years and you're glad he takes it on the humorous side.

“What do you guys have?”

You’re playing this game perfectly, acting as if you’re actually one of his customers and Jisung gets reminded once again what a pity it is that his shifts are rarely at the same time as you usually enter the café. He could forget about everyone and everything else when you’re around.

But he catches himself drifting off again, it’s way more fun for him too, playing along.

“Ketchup and mayo,” he states.

You scoff but on the inside you’re fighting for life to hold back the immense laughter that’s bubbling up. But you won’t be defeated so easily.

“Okay, Han, forget what I said.”

He chuckles but at the same time pretends to be hurt, placing a hand on his chest. “Stop calling me by my surname.”

You click your tongue, leaning over the counter with your upper body.

“I call you what I want.”

Jisung ignores you first, instead focusing on preparing a beverage for you. With the angle he’s practically disappearing behind all the baked goods in the vitrine, you can’t witness what he’s doing exactly.

A minute later, he stops his actions and turns around towards you again.

“3500 won, please,” he says, looking at you with a fake, bright smile.

“You’re charging me after you said it’s for free?”

He chuckles again, “Only good girls get free drinks.”

Fuck. You feel your knees suddenly becoming all wobbly, as if they’re made of pudding, similar to one of the cakes they offered today at the café.

Han Jisung has always managed to make your head spin and it’s not different now. You’re afraid, though, that he will notice. You need to play along. No matter the cost.

“Okay, sorry, Sungie. Please, please forgive me. I’ll be a good girl for you.”

What has gotten into you, Y/N?!

Jisung tries to ignore what the begging of yours does to him and he’s quite glad that he’s standing behind the counter. Otherwise, you would see the outline of his immense erection that is growing inside his pants. Yes. Just with those few words.

Fuck. He’s dreamt about this so many times—your cute voice asking him to kiss you, to touch you, to shove his cock inside you and rail you into oblivion until you cum all over him.

“Fine,” he says and catches himself, preparing the beverage for you. Grabbing the ingredients, he gets to work as you wait for him, already sitting at the table again. Your drunk eyes hover through the café, admiring the pretty blossom trees. You’ve always liked the decor here.

Once he’s finished and this way awakens you from your daydream, Jisung heads towards you and places the glass right in front of you—an iced coffee latte with caramel swirls and whipped cream on top.

“Here you are.”

When he sees your questioning look, he adds, “I’m not gonna make you a new one. You mentioned these two things so I added them.”

You look at him again, a little apologethic.

“Thank you… it’s just– the milk.”

“It’s plant based,” he explains. “Therefore, lactose free. I know you don’t drink dairy products. Same counts for the cream.”

He remembers?

Han Jisung remembers a stupid detail like this although you’ve never told him? Which is, well, not surprising since the two of you talked more tonight than compared to all those past years combined.

You take a sip from the caramel iced coffee, humming a little when the taste spreads over your tongue and the sweetness helps you forget about all the bad stuff that happened today.

Taking your time, you gulp down the liquid at a much faster pace than usual but you can’t get enough. Your so-called enemy watches every move you make, while he drinks a little bit of his water from time to time, snacking on some bagel—one with mozzarella cheese, tomatoes and basil pesto.

It’s the first time you take in every detail of his appearance now, probably the longest you have ever looked at him—it could almost count as staring—which once again reminds you how beautiful he is.

Jisung’s hair has gotten much longer. But you’d be lying if you said you’re only noticing this now. You’re always admiring him. He’s pretty, handsome and attractive. You can’t deny it.

God. You’re a hopeless fool. Who falls for their enemy?

Well. Maybe we can finally agree that enemy is a little too harsh to describe him. Rather a frenemy. He’s never been a rival of yours, it’s just that there was lots of distance created between the two of you and the wall that has been separating you is finally crumbling down into a thousand tiny pieces.

You notice another thing now.

Jisung is wearing shimmering accessories that look like your favourite fruit and you have to ask him about it. In case it comes off weird you can just pretend you talked about it to find out where he bought them. Not that you would care about any reaction of his. Of course not.

“Wait– are you wearing cherry earrings?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

Great. This makes him even more amazing. As if you weren’t already doomed anyway.

And as if this isn’t enough, your appetite for your favourite fruit announces itself and faster than you’re able to realise that you’re speaking, the words are already spilling from your lips.

“Do you have… anything with cherries here?”

Jisung looks at you dumbfounded.

“Cherries?”

“Hm. I love them,” you say. “Just like the blossom trees. Whenever they bloom it feels like a new beginning to me.”

A new beginning.

Do you mean with him, perhaps?

Probably not.

Because you’re definitely still tipsy. A little philosophical. It’s normal. Jisung shouldn’t aim those words at himself.

Which is hard. Considering he’s had a crush on you for four years. Despite the fact you hate him and he’s never understood why. Sure, he detests your now ex boyfriend—but for a reason.

First, he saw all the red flags and the bad things that guy is up to. Although it hurts him seeing you like this, it doesn’t surprise him that your ex cheated.

Second, jealousy has always been taking over Jisung’s whole body, flooding his veins, demolishing his heart, whenever he saw him touching you or kissing you. At the thought of him on top of you, grazing with his hands over your skin and body, Jisung’s stomach turns.

But… yeah.

You asked a question.

Let’s get back to it, Jisung.

“Anything for you.”

No matter what he does. His precious voice is playing like a song on repeat in your head. Rose-tinted glasses are glued to your face. And everything just feels so comforting with him. As if you’re meant to be here with him. As if he's meant to be taking care of you.

As if the both of you are meant to be together.

Goosebumps. All over your skin. Even though it’s still twenty degrees outside and even warmer in the café. That’s it—the passion you were thinking about. Jisung has literally done nothing but just with a few little words and glances he manages to conquer your stupid little heart. It’s not even to blame on the alcohol—you’re barely tipsy anymore and it’s not as if this is the first time he has had this effect on you.

Fortunately, you’ve got enough time now to both drown in your emotions and observe Jisung preparing a drink for you from afar. He’s taken off his sweater and is now only in a tank top, showing his firm arms to you and you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. But you don’t want to get your hopes up too high, although they look kind of realistic at the top of the cherry trees here.

A little later, Jisung comes back with a pink drink in his hand, professionally placing it on the table with a small thud before he sits down again.

“A sakura latte. But my own version with cherries at the bottom of the glass,” he says, his cheeks coloured in the same shade as the beverage.

“Thank you, Sungie.”

It just slipped out. The nickname.

And the thin rose tinted layer on his face turns cerise now, copying the fruits at the bottom of the glass.

But can he blame himself?

The odds have never been in his favour but tonight everything seems as if it’s meant to be, as if it’s destiny screaming at him to finally make a move. Jisung has been referring to you as his chérie in his head for some time now but he would never admit that.

It’s too weird—an hour ago the both of you still believed that you’re longterm enemies just to realise that you get along quite well. More than that. And on top of that, the intense desire, the utmost tension is still lingering in the air, increasing its density with each fracture of a second.

Your eyes hover around, when you get a little shy after Jisung has been looking at you for a sole minute. Your gaze hits the remaining sweets that were offered today when the sun was still up. Getting up, your feet bring you a little closer now, appetite announcing itself once again.

You read the little cards with names attached to them, as you place your index finger on the glass, pointing at the colourful cupcakes.

“The blueberry-vanilla muffins are called Little Sin?”

Jisung chuckles, “Yeah. Minho came up with the idea.”

This doesn’t surprise you. Minho—Jisung’s best friend and unofficial boss of the café—has always had the funniest ideas, his personality seems to work with a fourth dimension. You like him, he’s part of your friend group too, and the only one who’s desperately been trying to convince you to, first, leave your now ex boyfriend and, second, give Jisung a chance to at least become friends.

You’ve always wondered why. Especially, why you were supposed to approach him when you’re the one who gets ignored. But it makes sense now. Being with him has granted you more safety, comfort and excitement in a little more than an hour than all those years being with your ex combined.

You smile then, when you read the name of the other cupcake.

“And naming the raspberry-vanilla ones Hot Love was his impressive creativity, too?”

“Exactly,” Jisung says, laughing out loud.

“Of course. Should have seen that coming.” You turn around completely now. “Can I have one?”

Jisung instantly gets up from his seat, getting behind the counter.

“Of course. Which one?”

You tilt your head, your index finger tapping your mouth, as you try to choose.

“Hm… can’t decide,” you admit.

“You can have one of each, you know?” Jisung offers, until another idea hits him. “Or… we could share.”

“O-Okay,” you immediately respond.

A minute later you find yourself once again at the table, sharing the sweet goods. It feels so familiar and not at all uncomfortable. Jisung doesn’t make you shy around him, if any, he worms out the potential that has been slumbering inside you. You feel at ease, being near him.

“Jisung?”

Another half an hour has passed and the two of you have talked about almost every imaginable topic, realising you get along quite well when you both try.

“Yeah?”

He feels comfortable around you too and he wants to regret not approaching you earlier but it doesn’t matter when he sees you smile whenever he cracks the dumbest joke, when he witnesses you get flustered after a compliment or when he observes your eyes flickering around in the room, looking at the cherry trees.

“I’ve always liked the decoration inside the café. The blossom trees, you know. Who came up with the idea?”

Are you reading his mind, perhaps?

“Uhm… it was me,” Jisung confesses.

“You like cherries and blossom trees, too?”

Yes, but I like you more and that’s why I chose that theme.

Jisung decides to simply nod instead.

“We have more in common than I thought,” you say, downing the rest of your sakura latte as Jisung does the same since he made one for himself, too.

“W-We do…”

He gets a little shy now, even shyer than he usually is. But luckily, you’re the one taking the initiative now.

“Wow, we could have really become friends earlier if you hadn’t ignored me for the past four years,” you say, not really thinking about your words before speaking them out loud but that’s the effect Jisung has on you—you can be completely honest and share whatever appears on your mind.

“I-I’m sorry…”

Silence fills the room for a minute until you speak again.

“I just… I’ve always wondered why. It’s because of him, right?”

Jisung hesitates.

“Hm, I fucking hate that dude, to be honest. I’ve always had. But… with the way he treated you– I–“

“Yeah… he’s the worst. I seriously don’t understand how I stayed with him for that long,” you quietly admit with a forced smile.

“Please don’t blame yourself for this, yeah?” Jisung adds, reaching for your hand and you let him.

His skin feels so smooth and warm against your own, heating your heart up from the inside, similar to the sakura latte and the warm muffins you shared earlier.

“He… he always said that… that I make everything about myself. As if I’m some self-centered bitch,” you say.

You don't care if it ruins the mood or if it’s inappropriate to talk about your ex with the guy you… like.

But it’s different with Jisung. Besides that, you know how much he despises him, probably even more than you detest that piece of shit.

“You?”

You nod and Jisung squeezes your hand tighter when he sees the hurt swirling around in your beautiful eyes. God, he could get lost in that view but he absolutely hates seeing you like this. You deserve to be treated like a queen, worshiped like a goddess.

“Yeah… because I’m passionate about the things I like or when I engage in conversations I tend to share my personal experiences, that’s just how I show my interest and affection,” you explain, head hanging low.

Jisung’s other hand comes to your face now, placed under your chin, so he can tilt your head in an angle that you're forced to look into his eyes.

“Y/N, listen,” he begins, his jaw clenching at the thought of how much your ex destroyed your confidence. “You’re not self-centered at all. He definitely is, though. Besides that, there’s nothing more beautiful than listening to people talking about something that touches them or just makes them smile.”

There it is.

A smile appearing on your face again and you believe what he says.

“T-Thank you.”

“Not for that,” he reminds you once more.

“Jisung?”

His gaze shoots up from where your hands meet up to your face.

“Yeah?”

“Just so you know, I’ve never hated you either. If anything, I’ve always liked you and wanted to get to know you better,” you say.

And there it is.

A smile appearing on his face as well and he believes what you say.

You stay like this for a solid minute, enjoying the atmosphere.

Until a vibrating sound startles you, indicating you received a message.

You excuse yourself, grabbing your phone from your pants’ pocket. Opening the chat with your roommate, you reread your own text from earlier first.

[You 21:32]: felix are you at home?

You realise that you’ve never mentioned that you aren’t at home either and you’re glad about this now. Otherwise, Felix would have probably gotten a heart attack reading your words. At least you can tell he’s somewhat calm—despite the stress caused by his uni project—judging his message.

[Felix 🐥 01:56]: sorry for the late reply my phone died but i’m not coming home tonight, Hyunjin and I really need to finish that project, love you 💕

But fuck—it clicks then.

You will not be able to get home today. It’s ridiculous to stay up all night and what are you supposed to tell Jisung?

Jisung. Right.

No… that’s a dumb idea. You can’t ask him that.

“Jisung?”

His eyes find yours again, after you put away your phone.

“Hm?”

Deep breaths. It’s gonna be okay.

It’s weird isn’t it?

But it’s also two in the morning.

You will just emphasize you only have innocent intentions.

Well. Is that the truth, though?

You don’t want to scare him away but, again, you feel comfortable and safe enough to propose that idea.

So, that’s exactly what you do.

“I don’t want you to think I mean it in this way but– can I stay at your place tonight?”

Fuck. His heart skips a beat. Of course, you said you don’t mean it like that. But the sole idea of you being in the same room as him for more additional hours makes him absolutely excited.

“A-At my place?”

Shit. You already regret it. It’s in fact weird. A few hours ago you didn’t even talk to him and now you’re behaving as if you’ve been friends for centuries.

But the even weirder thing is that it actually feels like it.

It doesn’t help that you’ve had this incredible crush on him for such a long time now.

And it doesn’t help Jisung either that he feels the same about you.

“Felix has this important project and I forgot my keys inside the apartment and I don’t want to annoy–“

“Of course. Whatever you need,” Jisung interrupts you.

Despite the (not so) obvious feelings for you, he will not leave you alone at night.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Not for that.”

That’s the bare minimum again and Jisung will remind you from now on that you shouldn’t settle for just that.

“Are you already tired? We can head home, if you like,” he offers, when he takes a quick glance at his phone, realising how late it is.

“S-Sounds good.”

🌸

Jisung’s one room apartment is small but cosy. A tiny kitchen leads to a balcony. You can’t quite explain what it is but every detail seems carefully chosen, reflecting Jisung’s personality perfectly. It’s not as if he’s put lots of thought into the little decorations but maybe that’s exactly what makes you think of him—an insane intuition without any intention behind it.

“You can sleep in my bed, I’ll stay on the couch,” he says, as he points at the furniture.

“Don’t be ridiculous… there’s enough space for the both of us,” you tell him.

You appreciate the respect but a quick glance at his sofa tells you that not even an elementary student could sleep on it without breaking their neck.

“A-Are… are you sure about that?”

It’s almost cute that he’s become so shy again. That’s what’s fascinated you the most about him all this time. Jisung is versatile and still so predictable at once.

“Hm, it’s the famous trope after all,” you tease.

He looks at you dumbfounded, as he heads to the kitchen in order to bring water for the both of you. You sink down on the couch, reaching into the opened bag of crisps as if you’ve been here nth times before.

“Tro– what?”

Jisung plops down next to you, handing you the beverage.

He’s oblivious. You won’t tease him more. It was a joke after all.

Wasn’t it?

“Nothing,” you giggle.

Taking a sip from your glass, you grab your phone from inside your pocket and place it on the couch table. The screen lights up in an instant.

It’s just now that you’re realising you’ve missed a bunch of notifications since looking at your phone the last time when Jisung drove the both of you to his apartment a few minutes ago.

[idiot]: (8) missed calls

That’s when time starts standing still.

You probably dissociate for at least half a minute and everything becomes a blur. Since Jisung opened the balcony door, a breeze of fresh air enters and hits your skin but you barely notice it. The same counts for the sakura taste on your tongue, it’s still present but you can’t focus on anything right now.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

You blink once. Twice. A third time.

Until you manage to turn your head towards Jisung.

“I… He– He texted me.”

He scoffs, his eyes growing wide, “God… that’s pathetic.”

“Hm,” is all you’re able to let out. You grab your phone from the table next, staring at the notifications. You’ve got a message from him as well but you need to open the app first to read it.

Fuck. What are you gonna do now?

The most rational answer would be to ignore it. But you can’t. Messages make you emotional although they shouldn’t. They get under your skin and pretty often you have the urge to immediately reply when receiving some risky text and then responding way too emotional.

Maybe Jisung knows what to do.

“Can you… can you help me?”

He gives you a soft smile, as he nods and places his hand on your shoulder. Jisung squeezes it a bit just like he did with your hand earlier at the café.

“You can always just ignore him, you know?”

It is the most rational answer. But you don’t want to be rational right now.

“Yeah… but I also always have that immense urge to have the last word,” you admit.

Jisung chuckles, “Very relatable.” The palm of his other hand is directed towards the ceiling now, telling you to give him your phone. “Let me see.”

You’re glad he doesn’t argue with you and just supports what you think is right for you. Your ex would have never done the same.

Jisung opens the messenger app and you both carefully read the disaster of a text.

[idiot 02:18]: Y/N… please answer… I swear it’s not what it looked like… it happened after our breakup 😔💔

“That guy… I doubt he’s even believing himself,” Jisung hisses, which makes you laugh a little.

You get back the device and start typing. Once you’re done, you press ‘send’.

[You 02:34]: stfu I overheard your conversation

“Yup. Very valid,” Jisung says.

It doesn’t even take another full minute for the next message to follow.

[idiot 02:35]: I am at your house with cookies and a bottle of wine… we can talk about everything… I’m not with her anymore 🥺😘

“He can’t be for real,” you mumble and at the same second get another one.

[idiot 02:35]: if i really think about it, i have only ever wanted to be with you, baby ❤️❤️🥺

“God… he is in fact fucking pathetic,” you laugh.

“What I’m saying,” Jisung adds.

You have a great idea what to respond and immediately start typing again.

[You 02:36]: if it was possible i would punch you through the phone screen

“That’s my girl,” Jisung mutters under his breath but you still hear him.

The three little dots appear on the screen before they vanish away again. They make a comeback and a second later you get bombarded with the following monstrosity…

[idiot 02:37]: baby… please. i’m in front of your house. why aren’t you opening the door for me? we can discuss everything 🥰😘❤️ and then get back together… I missed you 😔🥺❤️❤️

Jisung cringes. You do the same.

“God, the way he texts should have been a reason enough to break up with him, pretty.”

You chuckle. And ignore how the use of the pet name makes you feel.

Then you type something again.

Maybe without thinking enough but impulsiveness is still your middle name.

[You 02:37]: I’m at Jisung’s

“Y/N– I don’t know if that was such a good idea,” he says, a little bit of fear audible in his words.

“Fuck– I’m sorry– I didn’t want to drag you into this–“

“No, no. Not because of me. I think he will turn this against you,” Jisung says.

And as if he’s summoned it, his thoughts become reality.

[idiot 02:38]: Jisung?? tsk i should have known

“Fuck.”

“You don’t have to answer, you know that, right?”

You don’t have to reply and at this point you don’t want to anymore. Laying the phone aside is probably the best idea.

But your ex is faster to double text.

[idiot 02:39]: that pathetic loser has always wanted to fuck you… but i’d never expected you to be such a whore… I wonder for how long this has been going on

“Y/N.”

Jisung’s voice is strict.

“Huh?”

You turn your head around, looking at him. His jaw is clenched and there’s nervousness spreading all over his face.

“Give me the phone. Now.”

You obey his words, trusting him completely as you try to ignore the effect the tone of his voice has on you.

Jisung sends a message, hesitates and adds another one before he hands the device back to you.

You read the first one.

[You 02:41]: Jisung’s here. Watch your mouth before I stuff it with tissues. I’m just here for her and taking care of the mess you made.

You giggle. The tissue thing sounds like something he learnt from Minho.

You read the second message.

And your heart skips a beat.

[You 02:42]: Just for your interest: I’ve never fucked her, you idiot. But I can promise you that tonight I’ll definitely have her screaming my name ;)

Fuck.

You lock your phone and lay it aside, screen facing the table.

Your head is spinning again.

But this time in a positive way, if that makes any sense.

Does he mean it?

No. That was probably just to end this nerve wracking conversation.

Yes, you know now that Jisung is indeed not your enemy but wants to be your friend instead.

But that’s it, right?

On the other hand, you’re still thinking about the fact he called you pretty and smart three hours ago and that he said something along the lines of ‘if you were my girlfriend’.

But that was just to prove some point… nothing… nothing personal.

Right?

But fuck it.

You’ve never been so close to tasting everything you’ve ever wanted and although you’ve never believed in destiny, you know that all this can’t be a coincidence.

Now or never.

“I-Is it true?”

Jisung looks at you with those big doe eyes. God. Your heart could melt at the sight.

“W-What?”

Deep breaths, Y/N.

“That you have always wanted me?”

He shyly giggles. “Y-Yeah.”

Oh.

You wouldn’t have expected him to, first, actually return those feelings and, second, to confess it so quickly.

It grants you an insane boost of confidence.

Especially when you think back to the last message he sent.

Tonight I’ll definitely have her screaming my name.

You hesitate. But you don’t want to test the waters, you want the whole ocean right now.

“The other thing, too, Sungie?”

He gulps. “What d-do you mean?”

“That you’re gonna fuck me tonight,” you say, catching your lower lip between your teeth.

The boy instantly turns red, hiding his face behind the palms of his hands.

“Y/N– I’m sorry I– I thought that maybe he would stop text–“

“Because I’ll let you,” you cut him off.

His face appears again and where there was an absolute shy look a second ago, there are dark eyes now staring right at you with the utmost form of pure lust swirling around inside them.

“Say that again,” Jisung challenges you with a husky whisper.

“I’ll let you fuck me,” you admit. “I’ve wanted this for so long, too.”

He lets his head fall back and when he tilts it down again, you watch his tongue wet his lips first and then graze over his upper teeth.

“Are you kidding me?”

Fuck.

Have you gone too far?

You probably have.

You shake your head. “No. Of course, only if you want to–“

Jisung interrupts you by smashing his lips into yours.

You stay like this for some seconds—mouths being pressed against one another until he slowly starts moving.

And when he invites your tongue in, you can sense some hints of the sakura flavour from the beverage earlier since he had one of those rose tinted drinks too.

That’s when it hits you.

Cherry blossoms are blooming all over and around you. He tastes like your favourite fruit but even better. The goosebumps are back on your skin when he pulls you closer.

That’s it.

The passion you’ve been hoping for, no, that you have been craving all this time.

You want to turn back time.

Make up for all the missed years.

Or at least switch back to a minute ago so you can experience the feeling of his lips aligning with your own, sending the first spark through your whole body, for the first time once more. Over and over again.

Your initial idea with this was to deal with the tension but it’s about time that you stop denying and lying to yourself.

It’s not just that. It’s so much more.

You feel a little dumb for only fully realising now but Jisung is all you’ve ever wanted, ever needed—on every level imaginable.

And as much as you want him to take of each layer of your clothing, he has to know first that this means more to you than just a one time thing that happened in the heat of the moment.

“Sung– wait–“

He immediately pulls away. Jisung fears he’s gone too fast, too much, too far.

Fuck.

He wishes the first kiss between the both of you would have been in a more romantic setting. As cliché as it sounds—aligning his lips with yours while you’re standing under those pastel pink trees would have been a dream come true and what you truly deserve.

But can he really be blamed when his long-time crush asks, no, begs him to basically devour them like a five star meal?

“Do you want to stop?” he asks then.

You can see the fear in his eyes. That’s the last thing you want.

“N-No– it’s…”

But it’s hard speaking up about all those thoughts that are running at high speed in your mind. Especially, when he’s looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes that have gotten a few shades darker since the first kiss.

Fortunately, Jisung senses you’re just as shy to speak as he is but he still manages to initiate the conversation. He dearly hopes he’s not misinterpreting something. In case you regret what has happened so far, his heart will immediately shatter into a thousand pieces.

“What’s on your mind, pretty?”

You giggle when you hear the pet name. But you have to be serious now. It’s so important that you don’t give the wrong impression to him.

You want this. You really do. But you want this to be more after and not just a one time thing. Jisung is way too important to you and your stupid little heart.

“I don’t want you to think this is a rebound… I–“

“I know it’s not,” he cuts you off.

He’s got his truth now and Jisung can officially call himself the fucking happiest man on earth, if not even in the whole universe and whatever follows after that.

“How do you know?”

It’s hard to explain. But, subconsciously, he’s known for some time. Jisung’s insecurities simply have gotten in the way, telling him it’s just his imagination.

But the conversations you shared in the café earlier, the way you allowed him to take care of you, the fact you’re at his apartment now and, fuck, the way that kiss felt—filled with such a passion he has been craving for years, if not his whole life, convinced him.

“I’ve had my doubts for years and was sure it’s just my desperate feelings for you telling me you might return them but I know now you might like me just as much,” he says, adding a little teasing smirk at the end.

“H-How… so obvious?”

“You’re fucking obvious, baby,” Jisung continues, grabbing you by the waist and placing you in his lap and you just let him. “Maybe that’s why I’ve never given up. I was convinced you hated me, understandable, since I ignored you all this time and do in fact hate your ex.”

“Don’t mention–“

He places a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Sorry. But do you wanna know why I’ve ignored you for four years?”

You look into his eyes again and you can already feel the secrets unveil themselves in a heartbeat. Although you seem to already know what he’s about to say.

“Why, Jisung?”

He gets closer now, his mouth dangerously near to your face, lips practically hovering over your skin if there wasn’t a thin layer of air separating you.

“I had to hold myself back. For several reasons”—a kiss on your cheek—“to not… sorry for the mention but punch that dude in his face”—a kiss on your jawline—“To ignore my own feelings for you. But, also”—a kiss on your neck—“to not bend you over the next surface, if I’m honest.”

You’ve always known there’s been utmost desire blooming between the both of you. A blossoming connection as bright as the leaves of your favourite tree.

And it feels exactly like this when Jisung aligns his lips with yours another time and you’ve never wanted to drown in a feeling this much before—he tastes like everything you long for. The sweetness of the blueberry and raspberry muffins. The freshness of the sakura latte. The comfort of the safety he grants you. The passion of the desire you have for him.

That’s why you allow him to take the next step, when he slowly pushes you down on the sofa, towering over you now. Jisung tugs a strand of your hair behind your ear, as he looks at you with the warmest smile this earth has ever witnessed.

But there’s no time to react or do anything, when his mouth collides with your neck again and as if you’re on autopilot, you spread your legs for him, allowing Jisung a more comfortable and intimate position.

One of his hands wanders up to cup your breast, massaging it through the fabric of your shirt and bra. In an instant, you prop yourself up on your elbows and Jisung seems to be able to read your mind when he helps you out of those distracting barriers.

He becomes that cute guy again when his eyes flicker down to your bare breasts and it makes you almost as shy as he is right now.

“Sungie… don’t look at me like that,” you say, covering your chest with your hands but he softly pulls them away.

“No, no. You can’t look as beautiful as this and then hide.”

You allow him to continue, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when his kisses meet one of your breasts. Jisung starts twirling his tongue around the hardening nub, while his hand is busy playing with the other.

A moan slips out of your mouth but you don’t even try to hold it back since there’s neither a reason nor a need for it.

“Sungie?” you call for him again when you notice something.

He looks up at you through his thick lashes, big eyes staring right into yours.

“Yeah, pretty?”

You giggle because of the name again, “You know, it’s kinda unfair that you’re still wearing your shirt…”

He chuckles and within a few seconds the fabric lands on the pile of clothes on the floor and your gaze on his upper body. You’ve always expected him to be on the more muscular, athletic side but this beats all of your expectations.

“Wow… you’re beautiful,” you let out.

Jisung shies away but you grab his face and direct it back towards you.

“You can’t look as beautiful as this and then hide,” you quote him.

That’s all he needs for his eyes to turn ten shades darker again and a few moments later, he’s carrying you bridal style towards his bed. Your body meets the mattress, the weight of it shifting underneath you and Jisung wastes no second to help you out of your pants, leaving you under him in only your underwear.

“Fuck… pretty,” is all he says, brain turning into mush at the sole sight of your almost completely naked body.

Jisung positions himself between your legs then, thighs lying on his shoulders when his mouth approaches your covered pussy. Even in the dim lights of his room, Jisung is able to witness the little wet patch on your cerise laces. He giggles to himself, before he lets his tongue collide with the fabric. Licking a long stripe over your hidden clit, he makes you arch your back because of this slightest touch.

And it’s enough for you to desperately, impatiently beg for more.

“Take them off,” you cry out, already freeing yourself from your panties.

With the most evil smirk to ever exist, Jisung helps you slide them down, leaving you naked on his bed for him and him only.

He dives back in, about to devour you like a five star meal, when his mouth comes in contact with your mound. Jisung starts with small little kisses, as two of his fingers painfully slowly spread your pussy lips apart and he could come undone untouched at the spot when he sees and feels how drenched you are.

“Sit up for a second,” he tells you and you follow suit.

Jisung is on eye level with you now, bringing two of his fingers close to your face.

“Open, pretty.”

You do as you’re told, inviting his digits in before you start sucking on them.

“Fuck…”

His eyes are practically glued to your mouth, watching how you take his fingers in and Jisung wonders how heavenly it would feel if he replaced them with his cock—which has by the way already been painfully hard since the two of you started kissing.

But it’s about you now. Jisung has waited for four years for this moment, being selfish is the last thing he wants.

That’s why he gets back to his previous position. In an instant, his tongue is back on your clit—this time without a layer of fabric between them—and his fingers are circling around your entrance, teasing you to beg for more.

Jisung hears another moan spill from your lips and it’s the most beautiful melody his ears have ever witnessed. He wishes he could record it, play it over and over again as a memory of tonight and all the following nights after this one.

“Sungie,” you call for him again, as you hide your face behind the palms of your hand. The anticipation is practically killing you by now, a feeling so intense it makes it impossible to hold back any longer.

“Need you…”

Jisung chuckles. “You need me, baby?”

His voice has dropped down low by probably two octaves.

“Yeah… your fingers, inside me,” you manage to speak.

Jisung follows suit, as he enters you, immediately feeling you clench around him. He lets out a moan himself now, before he slowly starts thrusting into you, stretching you so deliciously.

“Fuck–“

You arch your back when his tongue meets your sensitive bud again, drawing the prettiest movements around it, making you curl your toes.

Jisung lets go for a second, but keeps his fingers inside your tight hole as he slows down the pace.

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

He chuckles a little when he sees your fucked out face.

“Listen how wet you are, pretty. For me, hm? Only for me,” Jisung says. His fingers start thrusting faster into you now, as squelching sounds echo through the room.

“For you…” you whisper under your breath, before your head falls back again.

He picks up his pace, adding a third finger before he begins curling all three of them so he’s able to brush that certain spot inside you.

That’s it. The build up is getting more intense with each second that passes. You’re overdosing on pleasure.

“Sung–“ your words get cut off, when his tongue once again starts making out with your clit, saliva running all over it.

Jisung moans against your heat, not even thinking about stopping any time soon but it seems as if it won’t take you that much longer to reach that sweet relief.

“Come on, baby,” he encourages you, continuing with his movements like an expert, “cum all over my tongue and fingers.”

As if he’s flipped a switch on you, his demand turns into reality, when time stands still and the indescribable feeling takes over your body, possesses your mind and soul. It’s like a thousand sparks of fireworks, a million blossoms of those cherry trees blinding your vision when the sensation spreads through your core and gets welcomed by your whole system.

Jisung helps you ride out your high, his movements becoming slower when he feels the overstimulation kicking in. He slips his fingers out of your hole, giving your clit one last but soft kiss before he licks his digits clean from your essences.

He stares at you for a solid minute, waiting for the next move to follow from you this time.

But it seems as if he doesn’t have to be impatient, when you’re already sitting up again, pulling him closer by his neck, as you whisper, “You… you c-can’t eat me out like that and– you have to finish what you started, Sungie.”

He chuckles, before his lips crash into yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue.

“Then let me fuck you, yeah?”

You fall down on your back again, as you watch Jisung dangerously slowly fumble with his belt. The leather drops to the floor and he wastes no time to let his jeans follow. The tip of his cock is staining his boxers, a wet patch very visible for your eyes. It looks uncomfortable, almost painful, how restricted he is behind the fabric, the tent proving it quite much.

“Please– c-can’t wait no more–“

Jisung pulls the remaining fabric down, kicking it to the rest of the clothes and you gulp when you see him fully naked for the first time. The head is leaking precum, the length a little above average but the girth is probably what makes your head the dizziest.

“Let me go grab a condom real quick, pretty.”

You circle your hand around his wrist, stopping him from making a move.

“I’m on birth control. I’m fine without one, if you’re, too.”

He smiles at you, truly touched by the trust you have for him and it surprises him once again how the two of you used to be anything like this a few hours ago. Well, maybe it wasn’t ever like this. Maybe this is how it was supposed to be all along.

“Of course.”

His hands wander under your thighs then, as you’re still spreading your legs so beautifully obediently for him and Jisung pulls you closer, until your ass is practically right at the edge of the bed. He’s still standing in front of it, his cock back in his hand as he starts stroking it.

“You’re gonna beg for it, pretty. Beg for my cock, beg me to make you cum again, hm?”

Fuck.

How on earth are you supposed to survive this?

Jisung spits in his hand, smearing the saliva all over his length before he brings it closer to your pussy, tip slowly grazing over your clit which forces a moan out of you.

“Sungie– please, please, please,” you beg, just how he asked for it.

But that’s not enough for him.

“A little more, baby.”

Instead of finally sliding his cock into you, he continues teasing you, brushing it over your clit until the grip of his hand tightens and those soft movements do a one hundred and eighty degree turn, when his length collides with your clit, as he slaps it against your sensitive nub.

You let out the so far loudest moan that night, unable to wait any longer.

“Please, fuck me. I need you– need you to stretch me with your cock– need you inside–“

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, “I adore how desperate you are for me.”

“Only for you, Jisung.”

And that’s when he pushes just the tip inside, your pussy walls inviting him in as you start clenching around him. Jisung takes his time with you, checking your face regularly but all you do is impatiently begging him for more. Centimetre after centimetre follows until he’s bottoming you out completely.

“You better be,” he adds, still referring to his possessiveness.

You usually don’t like it when guys act that way but it’s different with Jisung. It’s not as if he’s doing it out of jealousy but you’re aware he’s driven by his utmost desire for you.

Positioning your legs over his shoulder to reach that certain angle, he starts thrusting into you at a steady pace.

And, fuck, does it feel good. You’re convinced the both of you are anatomically made for each other, destined to be connected in the most intimate way to ever exist.

“Fuck– I’ve dreamt about this for years– fucking years,” he cries out in between thrusts.

“Feels so good,” you compliment him, more and more synapses in your brain shutting off with each second. But you don’t need to think right now anyway. All you need is Jisung to take care of you, pleasure you, make you cum once more. Over and over again.

You’re a little dragged out of your daydreaming, when Jisung slips his length out, earning a whine from you. He grabs you by the waist and turns you on your stomach.

“Ass up,” he says and like a puppy you follow suit like you always do.

A few seconds later, he’s stuffing you full of his cock again, pounding into your desperate hole at a merciless speed.

“You’re such a good girl– only for me, yeah?”

“Hm, yours, only yours,” you whimper.

Your head is buried into a pillow, as you’re drooling all over the fabric. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head but that’s nothing new.

“Good little slut– fuck, I can’t believe I-I’m gonna be able to be inside that tight cunt every day from now on–“

“Yes, please–“ you cry out, not quite sure what you’re asking for but subconsciously the idea of having Jisung fill you whenever you need him is everything you’ve ever wanted.

“You’re mine, yeah? You get that?”

You slam your hand against the headboard, desperately trying to find some balance but failing miserably when Jisung rams his thick cock into your quivering hole like that.

“Yes, yes!”

He chuckles, “Good girl.”

And faster than you’re able to realise what’s happening, he’s got you in the previous position now, but this time Jisung is even closer. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders and his face is so close that he wastes no time to kiss you. It’s both once again so soft and passionate at the same time.

He’s still rutting into you although he’s lost some speed because his movements are getting a little sloppier too. Especially, whenever you clench around him, as two of his fingers are between your legs, playing with your clit to bring you closer to that sweet relief that you’re so desperately longing for

You bury your head in the crook of his neck. The beautiful marks you leave on his skin are destined to stay there for a while, like a tattoo that’s supposed to be a memory of tonight.

A few moans escape Jisung’s mouth. He pulls back a bit so that he can both stretch out the time until his orgasm washes over him and get a closer look of your face. He admires the few littles tears running down your cheeks, caused by the stimulation he is granting your body with his fingers, his cock and his words that follow next.

“You belong to me– I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this–“

Fuck. You won’t be able to hold on any longer, you can practically already taste your climax again, when your cunt quivers around him.

“Hm, more– please– don’t stop, Sungie–“

So, he follows your instructions and Jisung watches how you come undone once more, this time much more intensely than the previous one. You fear you black out for a second when the white glittering sparks fill your vision again and you allow the feeling to take over you.

Jisung’s movements become even clumsier.

“Please– inside, Sungie– I’m begging–“

He lets out a moan at the thought of stuffing you full of his seeds. Jisung places another sloppy kiss on your lips before he can’t hold back any longer.

“Whatever my g-good slut asks for, s-she’ll get,” Jisung says, before his cum seeps into your aching hole, painting your walls white.

Everything after that becomes a blur and a few minutes later, Jisung has already taken care of your exhausted body, cleaning you all carefully before he puts you into some of his clothes.

He joins you under the covers a little later, pulling you close to him as he watches your eyes almost fall shut. Jisung adds a soft kiss to your forehead, simultaneously stroking your cheek.

“I’m happy you came to the café tonight, you know?”

You nod, “I’m happy that we’re finally on the same page.”

“It was getting exhausting, to be honest, pretending that I’m not interested in you,” he says.

You chuckle, kissing him on the cheek.

“Same here.”

Staying like this for a while, the both of you get ready for bed a little later until you meet in his bed again. Jisung turns off the lights, as he cuddles closer to you.

“We should get some sleep, pretty, so that we’re well rested for our date tomorrow.”

🩷 AUTHOR’S NOTE: I'm so grateful that I was able to participate in this event. It was lots of fun! Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging it and sharing your thoughts with me—there are no limits, from keyboard smashes to long essays, every kind comment is dearly appreciated and the number one motivation for authors to keep going. Have a nice day!

#Han Jisung what are you doing to me oml

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scarsnfevers · 11 months

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Holy moly I waited so long for this & now it's finally here 😭😭😭

☾⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: evening star ; two *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

⋆*･ﾟ story preview. ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

pairing(s): knight!chan x princess!reader, mage!minho x princess!reader featuring: prince!hyunjin and others. story summary: you were soon to be married to a well liked and nobel prince from one of the wealthiest kingdoms. however, when the engagement ball takes a turn for the worst, you’re to try and reclaim your kingdom with the help of your knight and best friend chan, as well as the mage who you have a secret history with.

⋆*･ﾟ part two ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

wordcount: 13.9k chapter warnings: blades, mild violence, some injuries note that these warnings are specific to this chapter. if you read something you think should be tagged, please send me a message/ask. a/n: hihi! sorry for the long wait but she's here!! i did have to repost this for reasons which i won't get into, but anyhow. happy reading! taglist: @kpop--etc / @freckled-felixlee / @foivetimesacharm / @tremendousminyoongi / @wearethethunderousones / @chrisishungry100397 / @freckledquokka / @starrylino / @soulssung / @scarsnfevers / @sahazzy / @djeniryuu // unable to tag some :(( --- m.list | one | two | tbc...

It's cold.

That's all you can seem to think about as you slowly come to, the heaviness in your head tempting you to keep your eyes shut. Your ears are ringing dully, and your limbs feel heavy, the way they had years ago when you had first tried to swing Chan’s sword.

The memory blurs in your brain as you try to push yourself up. Your shoulder is killing you - you must have fallen asleep with your arm at a strange angle, but for how long? How long had you been on the staircase for your shoulder to hurt like this? There was nothing to indicate the passage of time that had passed, though the moon was viewable through a small cutout in the staircase. It shown down through the hap, cold moonlight casting an eerie blue glow over you

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Repeat.

As the ringing in your ears start to die down, an unsettling feeling overcomes you. It was quiet. Too quiet. There were no footsteps, no distant chatter or sounds of the quartet playing. There didn’t even seem to be any nightlife - the sounds of crickets and owls that you were positive almost always accompanied the night were no where to be heard. Had it always been this quiet?

As if the world was desperate to prove you wrong, the sound of clattering footsteps makes its way to your ears from below. There was the familiar footfall of the palace servants - more rushed and skitterish than normal, but the sound of their shoes on stone was one you had grown up with.

And then there’s the heavy sound of boots, creating a dull thud with every step.

“To the ballroom! Now!”

It was an unfamiliar, gravelly voice - none of the guards you knew sounded like that. None of them sounded that demanding. As the steps come nearer, you can make out panicked whispers and muffled crying.

Pushing yourself up, forcing your weak legs to hold you up, you scramble up the staircase, away from the noise. With each forced movement, whatever power had fatigued you seems to wash away.

Some part of you - the part that had grown up on adventure stories and fairy tails of princes saving princesses - wanted to run down and help whoever was crying. But you knew that wasn’t the smartest of ideas - and the castle staff, knowing their kind hearts, would tearfully scold you for putting yourself in danger for them.

The sound of your shoes on the stone stairs reverberates in your ear. Kicking them off, you continue barefooted up the staircase.

It was a good idea - not only were your steps quieter, but the cold floor beneath you was grounding. It shocked the drowsiness out of your system, heightened your senses.

And thank god for that, fpr had you continued on with your shoes, you may not have noticed the voices from the second floor until it was too late.

“Find her! She can’t have disappeared into thin air!”

Were they talking about you? So whatever had happened had been to target you?

The thought makes your blood run cold, a sudden wave of dizziness hitting you. To your knowledge, you had never been made the sole target for anything, and all the drills and procedures that you had been taught- they all revolved around someone escorting you away, someone protecting you.

But right now? You were alone, unsure who the enemy was and had no way to contact the only person you trusted. You didn’t even know where he was.

Your mind jumps to your mother - where was she? Was she alright? The last time you had seen her, she’d been in the ballroom. There had been plenty of guards in the ballroom. Hopefully, she was alright.

“Have you checked her room?” A new voice - familiar, but not enough that you can put a face to it in your panic.

“Yes, sir. She isn’t there.”

You wait, holding your breath and pushing yourself flat against the curved wall of the staircase as you wait for the men to move away - anywhere but down the staircase. It seemed an eternity before the one in charge replies.

“Fine. Go find some men and comb through the forest. If she somehow escaped, she can’t have gone far. Not in heels and a ball gown.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hearing their footsteps fade, you take the last few steps up to the top. To leave the temporary sanctuary offered by the darkness of the staircase seems like leaving the only safe haven you know, but you also know that almost nothing was ever permanent - stories of heroes could be immortalised by ink and tongue, but things like safety were only temporary.

Your bare feet pad across the cold floor, the lack of echo each time your feet hit the ground alien to you.

It was tiring and absolutely terrifying to look over your shoulder every few steps - what if, in that split second, someone appears in front of you? Or what if you look back, and someone is there? You weren't sure who the men were, who they worked for (if anyone at all), nor were you sure what they wanted.

Despite there having been men above and below the staircase, you manage to make your way down the hall without being spotted. When the door to your bedroom finally comes into view, the adrenaline increases in your veins - this was it, this was the last sprint. As soon as you're in, you can lock the door and then figure out your next move.

Taking a deep breath, you set off on a run to the door, feet falling hard against the ground.

Just as you reach the door, the sound of footsteps from down the hall reach you. You start fumbling the door handle, hands suddenly uncooperative and breath erratic and heart beating in your ears and the footsteps are speeding up, getting closer, closer, closer-

The door opens, and you barely manage to push it shut behind you as you stumble in. Spinning around, you throw yourself back against it, fingers struggling to lock the door based off of muscle memory.

You can hear the lock slide home, the click calming your nerves ever so slightly.

Finally, you were safe once again, your room providing temporary solace. And familiar, it could have been, had your room not look like it'd been torn apart.

The blankets on your bed had been pulled off, and the wardrobe doors thrown open. Closet doors had also been opened, and you could see the gaps in your clothes where someone had pushed them apart. And at the center of your room - the flowers you had been gifted earlier in the day, spilling over the edge of the table, the vase knocked over.

Whoever had come looking for you had really looked through everything, you thought, face warming despite all. But it should be the last thing on your mind, you chide yourself. There were more important matters at stake - like your life, and whatever on earth was going on.

Running to your open wardrobe, you rummage through the mess that had been left behind for something to change into, grabbing at the darkest thing you could find - a dark, velvet dress. You quickly undress, letting the stained tulle gown fall and bunch around your feet. Stepping out and kicking it aside ungracefully, you struggle to pull the velvet dress on while simultaneously digging around for something that wasn’t heels - it takes longer than you had thought to locate some riding boots. You crouch down, pulling at the laces.

How long would it be before someone was going to return to check your room? If you were still here, what would happen? Could you fight them off by yourself? ...No, probably not. You might be able to fling a few measly knives, but you had never been in combat of nay kind. If anyone returned, if anyone found you, you’d be helpless.

And then what? Would they take you to the ballroom, where it seemed they were gathering everyone, or would they lock you in the dungeon? Or would they ki-

Like a deer who had heard a twig snap, your body freezes when you hear your door rattle. Every joint in your body feels like it’s been locked in place, and your breath unable to leave your lungs. Had you overthought this all and imagined up the door rattling? Or was someone really outside, trying to get in?

It rattles again, a catalyst for movement as you crawl to your bed - an unsightly scene for a royal, but you couldn’t care less - and reach under the bedskirts. Your hand grasps at nothing until finally your fingers wrap around the string of the drawstring bag you had handed Chan earlier that morning. Pulling it out, you could hear the metal daggers sliding against one another, the harshness of the sound amplified against the stone even through the fabric of the bag.

Click.

Your breath is caught in your throat, trying so hard to force its way out that you feel like you’re about to puke. The drawstring bag seems to be stitched shut, your fingers prying helplessly at the string and the material.

Over your raging heart, you can hear the door shut softly.

Someone was in your room.

Hands shaking and sweating, you finally manage to tug the bag open, and you pull it wide, not caring for what noise it made - if someone was in your room, they were bound to find you anyways - and you reach inside, hands sliding against cold metal that sends shocks up your your arm.

Like some twisted nightmare, all you can see is a pair of black boots before you feel yourself being pushed over onto your back, the stranger putting his weight onto you and pinning your hands above your head with one hand, the other covering your mouth.

Eyes squeezed shut, you thrash around, kicking and twisting, yells muffled despite all your effort. The grip around your wrist was secure, preventing you from even twisting your hand around and nicking the person’s hand with the small dagger you had tried to hard to retrieve.

“Shut- Shut up, y/n, it’s me-”

Your body stills at the all too familiar voice. Eyes snapping open, You find Chan leaning over you, face flushed and eyes wide. He was panting, as if overpowering you had taken all the strength from him.

He releases your wrists, bringing a finger to his lips. Be quiet.

When you nod in response, he lifts his other hand from your mouth.

Without another thought in mind, you reach up and pull him down on top of you, hugging him tight despite your shaking limbs and burying your face into his shoulder. He smelled of the forest at night, the smell of earth and wood mixing with sweat and Chan.

“Chan, I thought you were someone else-”

Your breath rushes out, words barely squeezing past the sob in your throat.

Seeing Chan’s face made you want to cry; you wanted to be held, to be cradled in his arms and have him whisper words of comfort in your ear, for him to stroke your hair and tell you hey, everything’s alright, this is all just a bad nightmare and you’ll wake up soon.

He does stroke your hair - you feel his hand come under you, holding your head to the crook of his neck. He pats your head, hand running over your hair rhythmically until the adrenaline in your veins dissipates.

The smell of forest and night and Chan, the feeling of fabric between your nails and your palm, the sensation of being held by someone safe - it grounded you, each rattling breath shaking out the fear from your mind.

Slowly, your hands open and release his shirt. Even with your arms loose around his torso, Chan continues to hold you, and then you feel it, adrenaline leaving the room for your senses to recover.

His arms around you are strong - you’ve always known that he was strong - but they’re tense, as if he was restraining himself from holding you any tighter than he already was. You can hear his breaths, forcibly steady and controlled, and his hands are shaking against your hair as he calms you down, leaving an onlooker to wonder who it really was that needed the comfort.

He gulps, and you think he’s about to say something, but he pulls back. Still on top of you, he looks down, his bangs hanging and brushing against your forehead. He seems to be scanning your eyes, your face, for something that you couldn’t quite figure out. Injuries, perhaps? Or was he trying to see if you were still scared?

With each passing second, you can see his eyes soften. Simply looking at you, it seems, was enough to ground Chan.

“Did- Did you lock the door?” you break the silence after a while, and Chan blinks rapidly.

As if suddenly remembering that he was straddling your hips and leaning over you, he throws himself to the side, rolling into a kneeling position. He nods minutely, glancing across the room to the door. Though it stands silently, though you can't help noticing the feeling of impending doom it seems to radiate.

You push yourself up from the floor, retrieving the dagger you had discarded upon recognising Chan. The metal is unnervingly cold against the palm of your hand, and you quickly drop it back into the bag.

"What happened?"

Chan is across the room, peering out one of the two windows in your room. His eyes flick to you, and quickly back out the window when he catches you staring at him.

You shake your head, still trying to piece it all together yourself. "I don't- I don't know. I was going back to my room-"

"Why?"

"To change my dress - There was an accident-"

"Accident?"

"Yes, I knocked into someone- No, they knocked into me- Oh, I can't remember, but my dress got stained, so I was told to go back to my room and wait for a new dress. I was- I was on my way to my room, and then everything started getting all... weird, and it was like the castle was moving - I couldn’t - I couldn’t walk fast enough, and I was scared, and the torches kept moving and-" It was all mixed up in your brain. You could picture it all happening, could see yourself talking to the maid, could see the hallway, the fire and dancing shadows on the wall-

"Breathe, your highness. You're safe right now. I'm here." Chan had, at some point, made his way over to you. He had his hands on your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. "Now, have you been in your room all this time?"

“I-” shuddering breath in, shuddering breath out. “No. I only made it to the stairs before I... before I fell asleep.”

Once you had calmed down, Chan starts the questioning. What do you remember seeing? How long were you asleep? What did you hear? You had expected this to happen, and tried to recall all the details.

The story, though short, slowly unravels, and Chan shares his side too. He had been making his rounds, ensuring everyone was stationed where they were supposed to be when he noticed the change in the atmosphere - everything had gone quiet. He’d found one of his men on the ground - unwounded, but asleep, and Chan couldn’t wake him up. He would have kept trying, but then he saw the group of men approaching the castle.

“There were too many for me to try and beat. And I didn’t know how many more there were, and it was just- there were too many risks.” Chan had regret painted all over his face. You knew how much it must have hurt him to walk past his men, all on the ground, and be able to do nothing to help them. “But they said it had worked. And I don’t know what it is, but from the looks of it...”

“Magic.”

The word hangs in the air, a dark cloud that could bring anything from a light shower to a thunderous storm. No one really knew what the nature of magic was - after so many years of separation between the magical and non-magical, there was little interest in educating the non-magic folk of what magic really was. Magic was wild, something you nor Chan could fully comprehend.

“What I don’t understand,” Chan starts, pacing around the room, “Is why you were the only one who woke up. I mean - I assume I was outside of the spell’s perimeter, but you, your highness... Everyone was asleep, when I made my way here. No matter how hard I tried to wake them, no one would open their eyes. They were all breathing, though.” A reassurance, for himself or for you, no one knows.

You had an idea about why you were awake. A voice, a memory, a boy from long ago. You were sure he was connected to this somehow, that he had somehow tried to protect you - he had told you to run, had he not? That had to have been his voice.

But you knew that mentioning him to Chan right now wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Chan - always protecting you, always ready to cut down anything that could be a risk to you - was already sure magic was the root of whatever trouble you were now in, and to tell him that the reason you woke up was most likely because of someone’s magic?

No; Chan wouldn’t just be pointing fingers - he’d be pointing a sword at whoever’s name you let slip.

So instead, you shake your head. “But what now? We can’t stay here and wait the spell out,” you reason. “Besides, I heard the men moving everyone to the ballroom. We- We can’t even stay here.”

The realisation settles in your mind, a cold blanket that seemed to freeze you in place.

You had… never spent a night outside of the castle before. Chan had, of course, but he had been out with people who were able to protect themselves, able to take care of themselves.

But what were you, if not a princess who had grown up sheltered by the castle? And sure, you theoretically knew your way around a blade, but you could barely do more than hit within two meters of your target.

"...And I know we don't have time, but we'll figure this out, okay?"

You would be nothing more than a burden on Chan; extra baggage that he had to carry and take care of, whether he wanted to or not.

"I won't let anything bad happen to you or our kingdom. I promise."

Sometimes, you simply wished for a life free of the responsibilities you and Chan had.

"Your highness?"

It was hard to shake the thoughts from your head, though you tried - too much was at stake right now for you to get lost in your own shortcomings.

"Y/n," comes Chan's voice, closer and softer than it had been a moment ago, drawing you away from all the possibilities of the past, present and future. "I know this is overwhelming, but I need you here with me, okay?"

He raises a hand, palm cupping your cheek and thumb swiping under your eye - had you been crying? You hadn't even realised.

"I'm here," you tell him, and despite your voice betraying you, you really were present. Wiping away at your tears, you take a deep breath. "I'm here," you say again, more confidently this time.

"Good. Now,” Chan takes a breath that seems to rattle his body as much as you felt rattled. “Go grab that dagger from above your bed."

It takes a moment for your feet to move; once they do, it was like everything was being sped up.

You had to get up on the bed to reach the dagger. You go to step on your pillows, almost falling as they move under your weight, and kick them out of the way. They fall onto the floor with light thumps, and you reach up for the dagger.

“What about the prince?” You ask as you unhitch the blade from where it was mounted. The light catches on the star etched at the hilt, flashing as you move off the bed and back to Chan. “Him and his men aren’t familiar enough with the castle to-”

“With all due respect, my only responsibility right now is you,” Chan replies. He isn’t cold or dismissive, but his tone tells you he wasn’t going to compromise your safety for anyone else. “There are too many unknowns right now for us to try and find him.”

He’s standing by your window, peering out of it from the side. You sneak a glance out, curious as to what he was watching.

Nothing. He was watching nothing.

All was still outside your window, which overlooked the back of the castle. The forest was dimly lit by the moon, though you could see the shadow of clouds inching closer and closer. The only thing that seemed to move - even the trees seemed like they were still, unmoving against the wind that moved the clouds.

“Are we… Are we going?”

He nods silently, solemnly, before turning on his heels with what seems to you like newfound determination. Had he been thinking all this time? Trying to come up with a plan?

Well, you’d probably know had you not been so caught up in your thoughts before.

“Now listen, your highness.” Chan is busy rummaging through your bag of knives as he talks. “It’s just the two of us, so I should be able to fight should anyone come at us. But in the case that someone gets to you, you use the dagger, all right? And if you don’t have your dagger, use your body. Fists, elbows, knees. Connect with the throat, with the eyes. You might not be strong enough to faze an armoured person with a hit to the torso."

You nod, repeating the words in your head. Dagger, fists and elbows, throat and eyes.

“These will be too loud if we’re to carry them around, and we don’t have any harnesses on us.” He balls the bag up, sliding it and the daggers across the floor and back under your bed. He turns to you next, hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes with a fierceness that almost shakes you. “If we get separated, you run into the forest, okay? You aim for the forest, and get as far in as you can. I’ll find you.”

Brows furrowing, you shake your head. “You- You say that like I’d leave you behind.”

“You have to, if I get caught- If I’m fighting someone. If you have the chance to run, you run, okay?”

You continue to stare at him, at Chan, who had been by your side all your life, who was asking you to leave him behind if the situation called for it.

“Promise me, your highness. If I tell you to go, you go, okay?”

He’s looking at you with such seriousness, with so much will and determination and need for you to to promise. And, were you to look closer, look longer, you’d see the fear in his eyes.

What was it that he knew, that he had thought about that you hadn’t quite comprehended about the situation yet? Surely it wasn’t so bad that Chan would have to… sacrifice himself, right?

“Y/n, I need to know you’ll be safe if I-”

“I promise.” The words manage their way up and out your mouth, leaving a vile taste behind. It was both a truth, and a lie. I promise I’ll be safe. I won’t leave you behind.

—

The plan had seemed simple when Chan had talked you through it, and perhaps it was naive of you to take his words at face value. You definitely thought so now, as you almost run into Chan for the third time as he stops abruptly at a corner.

Ahead, you can hear the sounds of voices - not hushed, but far enough that you can't make out any of the words. They slowly grow louder, louder, footsteps drowing out the words, and then all the sounds fade out all together.

“Okay, let's go.”

After a moment of silence, Chan moves again. You follow closely behind, glancing back every few seconds to make sure that no one had walked around the corner.

You were near a staircase, you knew. Another small spiraling one, not unlike the one you had fallen asleep upon.

Chan stops before the entrance. He pokes his head in, cocks his head slightly to the side - you wait, heart beating in your ears until Chan gives the all clear.

The pair of you descend the stairs, the cold entrapped in the small, stone-walled space sending shivers down your spines. You spare but the smallest thought to curse yourself silently for forgetting to bring coats - but this wasn’t a planned outing, really. Who had the luxury of time to remember coats?

As yellow torchlight can be seen reflected on the walls of the staircase, Chan turns his head to speak to you in a hushed voice.

“Once we exit the staircase, we’ll head straight for the back door. Once outside, head straight for the forest. If we get separated, meet near the clearing where you practice-”

Chan disappears from your sight, thrown to the left with a grunt of pain.

“Chan!”

You quickly descend the last few steps, turning to find Chan on the floor, an arm over his head protectively. As you go to take a step towards him, mind gone in your panic to see if he’s alright, your feet leave the ground.

“Let- Let go of me!”

The person behind you has a hand around each wrist, pushing your arms against your chest as they lift you off your feet. You’re kicking and yelling, the dagger in your hand useless with what little range of motion you have.

As if you were but a pillow, the person - a man, you guessed, from the grunts in your ear and the thick, muscular arms around you, - carries you over closer to Chan.

“It wouldn’t do his highness any good to leave someone so devoted to the princess alive-”

You freeze as dread feels your veins, your mind, every part of your body, filling you in a way that seemed to offset your balance.

His highness? He couldn’t mean- no-

The man moves you to the side, jerking motion pulling a cry from you. He pulls his leg back, prepares to kick Chan. You shut your eyes tight as you can, turning your head away - to see Chan in pain right now, to see him be hurt, would crush your spirit.

“Don’t worry, some of your buddies will be joining you soon,” the man says, before bringing his leg forward and-

A sharp curse is yelled into your ear before you feel yourself fall, eyes staying shut until you feel the body behind - no, beneath you, make impact with the ground.

The man’s arms loosen around you just enough for you to pull an arm free. The dagger, held so tight in your hand that you feel like it’s hilt would be imprinted into your palm, swings behind you blindly. There’s a shout of pain before the tip skids along the stone ground.

Whatever damage you had done was enough of a surprise for the man to release you.

You roll off of him, being sure to keep the blade of the dagger away from you, and scramble to your feet. Eyes wide, you take in the scene before you.

Chan, still on the ground, was pulling the man towards him by the foot; had he stayed on the floor on purpose to pull the perpetrator down with him?

“Chan-”

“Go, y/n!

You stare in horror as the man, getting dragged slowly but surely towards Chan, starts to come back to his senses and recover from the initial shock of the fall. Chan, while not lacking in the muscle department, looked like he would be done for if he took another few hits.

And yet he wanted you to leave him.

It was his job, you knew, but still-

“I’ll be right behind you! Just go!” Chan yells, half frantic and half commanding, eyes jumping haphazardly between you and the slowly awakening man. “You promised!”

You had, and yet you had also promised yourself you wouldn’t abandon him. But what use were you if you stayed?

Chan wouldn’t be able to use his sword, not at that close a distance. You knew enough about battle to know that. So you do the only thing you can for him in that moment.

“Here!”

Before Chan could even look at you, you slide the dagger in your hand towards him, hilt first. It glides across the ground, metal against stone filling your ears, and as it passes the man, a brief image of him grabbing it and diving forward at Chan flashes in your mind.

But he doesn’t grab for it, and the dagger comes to a stop at Chan’s knees. He looks at it in shock, confusion, then back at you and nods.

Now, go, his eyes seem to say.

A strange calmness had settled in Chan’s face, as if he had come to some final decision, had accepted something.

A pit of newfound discomfort makes its home in your stomach, but you do, this time. You go slowly at first, one step back, two, and then you turn your back and run.

You can hear grunts and yells as you run away from Chan and the other man. You can hear him yelling to let anyone nearby know that the princess was getting away, but you don’t turn back to see if anyone’s following you. Part of you feared you would lose your footing if you did, the harsh sounds of your running steps a driver to keep you going, and the other feared the potential scene you had left behind.

It was awfully difficult to run in the velvet dress. Though no where near the heaviest dress you had worn, the way the skirt’s layers moved against your legs seemed to act like a barrier. You fought on, pulling it up to free your ankles of the resistance. The echoes of your steps fill your ears, heart beating against your chest, in your ears, as the wooden door you had come through this morning finally becomes visible. As if in response to your near success, you can hear the sounds of more men coming - the clunking of armour, of swords being unsheathed, of incoherent orders being yelled.

You push the door, the velvet of the dress catching on the old wooden door; though reinforced with iron bars, the door itself had stood sturdy for as long as you can remember, and though well maintained, time had brought forth a few chips. It stood strong, even now, and your face scrunches up in effort - had it always been this heavy? - until finally, finally it groans open.

Cold night air slips through the gap, drying your eyes and piercing your already pained lungs further. You step out, one foot, then the other, and the door slams shut behind you.

The vast silence that greets you is deafening.

Despite the breeze that had slipped through the door, the air was still. Lack of wind didn’t make you any less cold, and you feel a shiver run through your body as you scan the horizon.

The forest behind the castle seemed frozen in place, and had it not been for the eerie way the clouds floated above the trees, you’d have no trouble believing someone had stopped time in its place.

Draped in the blues and purples of night, the stone stairs that lead down the east side of the castle and to the stream that separated the castle grounds from the forest looked colder than ever. You had fallen on them once when you were younger, the cold biting into your palms when you had gone to brace yourself. To fall again now might mean more than just scratched up hands and knees.

You hands fist at your sides when you feel the unnerving thoughts fill your mind. Into the forest, Chan had said. As far in as you can go, and he’ll find you.

He’ll find you. He would always find you, unless-

You take a deep, bone-rattling breath in and let the pain of cold air in your nose ground you. Pulling your skirts up once more, you make your way down the stairs.

Steady but fast, you descend the stairs. Each step reverberates through your body, the sound of your own breathing in your ears.

You didn’t dare to concentrate on anything other than placing one foot before the other and not missing a step - a tumble would be detrimental to everything, would put you at risk, would make Chan’s sac- would mean that Chan had stayed behind to fight for nothing.

Your boots make contact with grass, the soft surface of the new ground unsettling to your legs. One step, two, a glance behind. The door stood dark and unmoving - had the men not seen you leave it, or were they occupied elsewhere?

It mattered not - you take a deep gulp, cold air filling your throat, your lungs, before you start running towards the stream. Just past there, and you would be at the forest. While you had yet to explore the entire forest, you knew most of it, and you were certain that at the very least, you knew it better than the men who were attacking the castle.

The men who were attacking the castle… His highness, the man had said.

You were in denial, you knew, but there was only one person that you were aware of that held that title.

Your throat seemed to close up at the thought - the prince had been nothing but kind to you and your servants, had done nothing but try to get to know your land better… and it all could have been an act.

Yet some part of you wanted to believe he was better than that - better than someone who acted kind and gentle, who spoke fondly of their men, their friends, just to sympathise and get on your good side. But he had said it himself, no? That with the lives of their people in their hands, there are things that royals need to sacrifice?

The maelstrom of thoughts is pushed from your head when your feet meet new ground once again. The stream is shallow and unmoving, and yet dragging your feet through the water seemed to require a great deal more energy than ever before. It’s cold, the width from one side to the other large enough that despite your boots, your feet seem numb by the time you reach the other side. Your skirt, though you had held it as high as you could manage, had been caught by the river in the crossing and now seemed to drag behind you as you trudge through the last stretch of land to the forest.

And just in time.

Shouts from the castle reach your ears as you step between the trees, and you turn to see silhouettes of men, flames from their torches lighting up the sides of their face. Too far away for you to make out if the three of them were your men or not, yet close enough that they could see you should they descend the stairs.

So you push aside the small slimmer of hope that these were Chan’s men and scurry into the forest.

It was dark, twigs and leaves on the ground catching on your dress as you make your way in, and yet you found an odd comfort in the shadows of the trees. If the people chasing you were in fact from another land - you refused to even think that they might be your people - then being in the forest that you had explored since you were young would, theoretically, put you at an advantage. You might not know the entire forest inside and out, but you knew it well enough that you were confident you would be able to evade the pursuers.

At first, you follow the path you normally take when you go off in the early mornings to practice your knife throwing. Down between the two trees, perfectly lined up with each other, past the boulder that Chan had once chased you around - Chan- no, don’t get distracted - and down the steady slope, the well-trekked path obvious for it lacked foliage and branches in the way.

It was obvious.

So without a second thought, you turn to your right and dash madly in between the trees, losing yourself in their shadows.

No one had really ever travelled off the path, especially not this close to the castle grounds. The ground was far more uneven than the path before, sticks catching on your skirt, hitting the leather of your riding boots - you could feel the small thumps. Even your sleeves, though not wide, caught on the lower branches as you tried to push them out of the way. There was little to light your path but whatever moonlight managed to slip past the trees, highlighting the odd patch of forest ground. Leaves and rocks, roots and fallen branches. You tried to avoid what you could, tried your best to keep your footing, but it wasn’t long before you tripped.

Hands met the ground and a jarring pain shoots up your left arm. You try to stop the cry of pain from escaping your lips, your mouth opening in pained silence as your left hand gives way and you fall onto your side.

The ground is rough through the velvet of the dress, rocks digging into your shoulder as you cradle your arm to your chest. You give yourself only a second, two, to collect yourself. Your wrist hurt, the initial sharp pain dulling down to a strong throb that made you feel like your veins were about to burst with each pulse.

You push yourself up, forcing your legs to carry you further across the forest.

It feels an age before you finally come to a stop, hand against a tree to support yourself as laboured breathing hurts your chest, your head almost woozy from the adrenaline, the exhaustion, the panic and the confusion and the fact that you just didn’t know what was going on and if Chan was even-

Snap.

You force yourself to hold you breath mid-inhale, force your muscles to freeze and your mind to quiet down and your ears to listen.

Snap. Snap.

it wasn’t coming from directly behind you. You gulp, turning your head to your right, squinting against the darkness in some hope it would make your vision clearer.

There’s someone there, and even silhouetted from a distance, you can tell they’re in bad shape - one hand held a sword, the other their side, and with each step forward, a limp becomes more noticeable.

They raise their sword hand in greeting and it takes you a second to process.

Chan*.***

You trip in your haste to get to him, barely managing to regain your footing before your next step propels you forward. You’re stumbling across the ground and you feel the twigs get caught in your skirt, feel your feet kick them out of the way, but you don’t bother to hold your skirt up. The pain in your arm was holding you back from doing so, yes, but the sheer fact that Chan was alright and was here and that you’d found each other - that fact was enough for you to push forward.

You seem to reach him before he does you, your eyes drawing instantly to his left side - a hand was holding a piece of fabric to his side, and as your eyes scan him, you notice he had only one sleeve; he’d torn one off, using it as temporary gauze to stop what you can only imagine to be bleeding. The sword was held loosely in one hand, and to his thigh, your dagger was strapped.

“You’re a mess,” you whisper into the night, heart aching. Your fingers reach out, first for the wound at his side, then to cup his face, but they move ever so minutely that when you stop yourself - you’re a princess, damn it, and Chan was your knight; such acts weren’t befitting of your positions at all - Chan doesn’t even realise you had moved at all.

He chuckles, despite his appearance. Chan drops his sword and lifts his hand to your head, pulling something from your hear and flicking it away. “You’re one to talk.”

You pout, suddenly self conscious and try to clean off whatever dirt had clung to your dress. “Well, you could hardly expect me to look presentable, given the situation.”

“Ah.” Chan grimaces, as if suddenly reminded of the present. “The situation. We- We should get going, deeper into the forest and find somewhere to hide for the mean time.”

“Will you be okay? How bad is the wound?”

He nods, face set in a smile. “It’s nothing life threatening - just a graze,” he comments. “Just a bit of blood-”

He’s cut off as you reach for the dagger strapped to his leg.

“What are you-”

Reaching for the hem of your skirt, you drag the blade across the fabric. It rips with a satisfying sound. Dropping the dagger onto the forest floor, you continue to tear the fabric from the bottom of your dress. Your face burns - standing in front of Chan with your skirt pulled almost to your waist to tear the fabric… you somehow still had the mind to feel self-conscious.

“You can’t just hold that the entire time,” you explain with a final tug to the skirt. It falls back around your legs, higher than before. With a gulp and furiously burning ears, you wrap your arms around Chan’s torso, pulling the fabric around his waist twice before securing it with a knot. “There. Now your hands are free.”

Standing back, you smile at your work.

“Okay, let’s go,” you say and turn.

Though you were ready to move, Chan doesn’t budge. Your muscles relax in confusion, head cocking in question.

His eyes are on you. They’re dark, shadowed by his features, silhouetted by however much moonlight manages to trespass the trees, but you can feel his gaze.

“You’re not…” He gulps, taking in a shuddering breath that causes him to wince, and slowly exhales. “You’re not injured, are you?”

Eyes softening, you feel the urge to cup his cheek again. You shake your head gently. The pain in your arm was easing - it was nothing worth him fretting over.

But how could he, bleeding as he was, still be concerned for your wellbeing?

“I’m fine.” A gentle smile tugs at your lips, and you eye the makeshift bandage around his torso. “Start worrying about yourself more.”

Chan's concern falters and he scoffs. “It's my job to worry about you, your highness.”

He was right, you knew. It was his job, had been his job for as long as you could remember.

“We should get moving, though.” Chan breaks the silence that had fallen between the two of you. “If I were in their shoes, it won’t be along until I either loop back around or send out a full search party to cover the entire forest.”

“So what do we do?”

Your question is met with silence. Chan’s eyes had fixated on a spot on the ground, though you knew he wasn’t really looking at the ground. He had zoned out, the way he does when he gets lost in his thoughts.

Giving him his moment to think, you collect the dagger from the ground. It’s clean, void of any violence it may have taken part in. The blade shone in the night, edges sharp and though cold, the weight of it in your hand brings you an odd sense of comfort.

It reminded you of a time in your childhood when you’d carried an identical blade through these woods.

“I think I know where we can go.” It’s a rush of words as the idea fills your mind, as your brain tries to figure out the kinks in your underdeveloped plan. “He would help us. I know he would.”

An incredulous look passes Chan’s face, so theatrical and comedic that you almost burst out laughing despite the situation.

“’He’? Who is ‘he’?” Chan, so perplexed by the fact that you were acquainted with a boy outside the castle, is frozen in place. “Do I know this person? Why- How do you-” He clears his throat, composes himself, and tries to regain neutrality on his face. “I apologise, princess, but I… have been with you for years, have barely left your side when outside the castle walls… so please forgive my confusion at the moment.”

Though you’d not seen him since that night long ago, you knew he was here. Knew he had stayed in your kingdom, and knew he resided on the outskirts of the town. Any and all businesses who dealt in or with magic were to send official notice to the castle regarding the purpose of their business. Along with a variety of other contracts, it was a method through which the use of magic could be indirectly monitored. The practice had been picked up by all the kingdoms, and any one found to profit off of their magic outside of what they had agreed to would be punished.

You had spied Minho’s name, once, in one of the books that kept such details. An address had been scrawled next to it, and though you had read it out of interest, you had never expected to remember it, especially in a situation like this.

But a mage, you realise, would be the last person Chan would turn to. And how were you to explain how you knew him? How were you to explain why he would help you, without having Chan go off at you about how stupid your decisions had been?

So instead, you take in a slow, deep breath. Tilting your head back to look up at the moon concealed by trees, you exhale. It shone bright, a beautiful sight in the treacherous night.

“Do you trust me, Chan?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, voice filled with absolute certainty as he crosses an arm over his chest and lowers his head into a bow.

“With my life, my princess.”

You and Chan were fortunate enough to not run into anyone as you made your way around the castle grounds. The adrenaline pushes you, keeps your legs working and your ears on high alert. Many times, he had pushed you against a tree, his arm or even his body pressed against yours at the faintest possibility of running into anyone.

You held your breath in these moments. The proximity at which he held you left little space for you to even inhale as deeply as you needed to calm your breathing, and besides - the sound would be too loud to hear anything over it.

When the trees finally start thinning, your legs are heavy and your lungs feel something akin to having had inhaled a thousand thorns.

The forest ended at the top of the hill. To your right, the gates to the castle, the long road up hidden by the night. Before you, the town lay spread out. The houses clustered, divided at intervals to form the many streets. Lit windows were few, and yet you thought that you could almost, if you tried hard enough, hear the hearty laugh of men at pubs.

“Your highness, are you alright? On the edge of the forest may not be the wisest of places for us to rest, perhaps we should-”

Shaking your head, you gather your skirts once more and lift your head. “No, no rest. I was simply sentimental, for a moment. I apologise - such feelings will do us no good right now.”

An expression of confliction crosses Chan’s face, so brief that when you look at him, he looked impassive.

“So, where does this… this person live? Where are we headed?”

The address tumbles from your lips, pulling from Chan a strained look.

“That’s on the other side of the town-”

“But we’ve few, if any other choices,” you reason. “We can’t possibly return to the castle nor can we try and make it to the next town over with nothing on us. We don’t even have money, Chan.”

“Then the people of the town-”

“Will insist on helping us, I know, but I will not take advantage of their kindness when such a thing could put them in danger.” The words come out with much more force than you had intended, the subtle escalation of your conversation with Chan having taken the better of you.

But Chan is seemingly unaffected by it. He regards you with a thoughtful gaze, eyes dancing with both amusement and respect. “Very well. Across town we shall go, your highness.”

Tonight was a night of many firsts for you. The first time you had ever had to flee your home, the first time your life had ever been in danger, the first time you had ever genuinely feared losing Chan.

The feeling had been so alien to you, so impossible to ever fathom, so unnecessary to even had imagined in the past, that as you walked through the sleeping streets of the town you had grown to love so much, you had to resist holding onto Chan like you had when you were a child. It would be silly now, to hold his hand as you had in the past whilst sneaking around the castle. This wasn’t a game anymore; the consequences of being found by the wrong people wasn’t forced study in the library. It was worse, much worse.

So why not hold his hand? Keep him close, know he’s safe - not that you would be able to do much of the protecting, you knew.

But as it had been in the past - when one was in trouble, so too would be the other.

Your fingers flex at your side now, itching to reach out and hold onto Chan as he peers around the corner to ensure no one was there.

He tenses, the same time the sound of a girl's laughter reaches your ear. Footsteps are fast to fade, alongside the quiet murmurs of a man, loud in the soundless night. Lovers, perhaps, heading home together as the night grows old.

A quick gesture of the hands from Chan indicates that it was safe to move. The two of you dart out of the small alley you had been hiding in and enter the town square.

Another first to add to the list; never had you seen the town square bathed in the silver light of the moon, street lamps flickering orange and crossing at the center of the square. Perhaps it was your circumstances, but the emptiness of the town square leaves an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

Chan leads you around the edge, behind empty stalls and shrubbery. Your footsteps echo off the walls of the buildings, playing back into your ears as if to emphasise the emptiness of the town.

“Half way there,” Chan mumbles as he enters a dark alley.

Had that alley always been there? Had any of the roads you’d taken always been there? You knew, realistically speaking, they had been - and yet you could not recall ever having seen them before. Perhaps the street that the bakery had been on, you’d seen before - but the alley that smelt of old blood and meat, the alley that had crates of empty glass bottles stacked by the door. How did Chan know of these roads, of these many paths? Had he memorised the map of the town, the many streets that had never existed to you before now?

It was his job, you supposed, to know these things. And yet the sheer ability to know his way across the town amazed you. Had he ever walked these roads before, or was he simply relying on his mind’s eye, on the chance of an accurate mental recall of the many maps he’d studied?

The scenery had changed - houses were few now, the paths between buildings more dirt and stone than they were stoned tiles, like they’d been in the town square. As you and Chan make your way down the street, Chan a hand on his sword the whole time, you can’t help but marvel at the contrast present in just this one town. Had you not walked here with your own two feet, you would have believed this to be a whole new place. The town you were familiar with had tiled floors, had flowers blooming on the balconies and children in pinks and blues, greens and purples. Not the browns and creams that hung from laundry lines at the front of the houses in the night.

“Up ahead,” Chan breaths, and your eyes scan the distance.

It wasn’t hard to spot, really. The only lit house in the dark street, windows warm with yellow light. There was a sign hanging by the window, but you couldn’t make out the words - weather had gotten the better of the paint. It swung feebly with a passing breeze.

“I trust you, your highness.” Hushed words leave Chan’s lips, followed by a resigned sigh. “I just hope your own trust isn’t misplaced. If they so much as look like they’re going to hurt you, I’ll-”

“He won’t, Chan.” You place a hand on his arm. After a moment, you feel his muscles relax, and Chan moves towards the lit house.

He… won’t, right? You believed he wouldn’t - The last time you had seen him, he had been afraid. He hadn’t hurt you, though you knew he could have. He had listened to you, and you to him, and he had accepted what little help you could offer. You wanted to believe that people were good - that kindness would be remembered.

And yet, back at the castle, his highness-

“There’s someone inside.” Chan, nearing the lit window, holds a hand out to stop you. “I can’t be sure, but it seems to only be one person.”

It’s him. You swallow nervously.

How had the years changed him? Had they even changed him? Would he recognise you at all?

Chan was right. There was someone in the house, their silhouette faint against the window. They were moving around, though it was near impossible to tell what they were doing.

“Are you sure this is the house, your highness? And if so, are you sure this person can be trusted? We don’t know what will happen in the next few hours-”

“Well, we’ve little other choice.” Your statement is all you manage to get out before you push past Chan’s hand. It was now or never - dawdling by his door wouldn’t change the current situation.

Chan makes a shocked sound of protest as you push past him, but he doesn’t move to stop you - only to follow you, and you’re aware of his hand securing it’s grasp on his sword.

Standing in front of the door, you could make out the sound of running water. You raise a shaking hand, fingers curling uncertainly before you squeeze them into a fist and rap on the door. Three quick knocks, breath caught somewhere in your throat as you wait for a response.

Chan speaks up from behind you, voice urgent. “Your highness, please step back-”

The door swings open abruptly, causing you to flinch back in shock.

The heart is a funny thing, really. How can it hold so many emotions at once?

Looking at Minho after so many years was strange. It was like he hadn't aged at all, and yet he looked like he had matured twice as fast as you. His face, though as angular as it had been that night so long ago, was now more jawline and cheekbones, as opposed to malnourishment.

“Lower your weapon, knight, or else I’ll blast you from my door.”

He speaks with a tired drawl, though you see the way his eyes quint in suspicion.

“Minho, it’s me-”

“Yes, I saw you,” he cuts in, eyes still trained behind you. “Not as flashy as your friend’s sword, unfortunately.”

It’s a cold response, not at all what you had expected, but you turn all the same and glare at Chan.

“I told you he wouldn’t hurt us, so-”

“He just said he would blast me from the door-”

“Because you’re waving a great, big sword around, idiot,” Minho says with a roll of his eyes. He’s leaning against the door, body blocking the rest of his house.

“I’m her highness’ knight,” Chan states defiantly, as if challenging Minho. His gaze lingers on Chan for a second longer before he looks at you - really looks at you.

It feels like ice piercing through you, his eyes reading every thought in your head. He knows why we’re here, a small voice in your head tells you. But how could he possibly know that?

“’Her highness,’ huh.” Minho lets the words sit on his tongue, lets it mull over in his head as he regards you. His gaze falls briefly to the dagger in your hand. “Well, I don’t suppose that after all these years you just decided to spontaneously come by in the middle of the night to see how I’m doing, so it’s probably best I invite you in,” he concludes with a sigh. “Tell your knight to sheath his sword, or it’ll be as existent as his sleeve there.”

“We- We don’t have sheaths on us,” you explain hesitantly. “Or anything, really. Just his sword, and the dagger. Not even any money.”

Minho looks down at you - he was taller than you and held himself with such an air of indifference that you couldn’t bare to maintain eye contact. Were you right to come here at all? To ask for help, and, despite your position, have nothing to offer in return?

A defeated sigh leaves him before he steps aside. “Whatever. Hurry in, then.”

He steps aside and after a moment’s hesitation, you make your way into his house.

It was cozy, unlike the great stone walls of your home. Sure, the library fireplace was warm and comforting, but the sheer size of the castle and all of its many rooms were nothing compared to the small space Minho lived in.

Dried plants hung over the window, each bundle a different kind. The table was laid not with the remnants of a meal well eaten, but with more plants and glass bottles, books opened with feathers marking different sections, and a range of things you barely had time to try and identify before you were ushered further into the house.

A fire blazed low in the corner of the room, opposite a messy looking kitchen. The sink was filled with unwashed dishes and more glass bottles, which you had only ever seen in books before. Few chairs were scattered around the room - wooden chairs that you assumed to belong to the table out front were occupied by books and blankets, and a long, two-person sofa had been turned into a makeshift bed. In the corner between the sofa and the fireplace, two wooden doors lead off into unknown areas of the house.

“Well, do sit down,” Minho says with a wave of his hand. Static seems to fill the air as items move from the chairs to the floor, neatly stacking themselves upon one another. “Having the princess and her royal knight standing about my living room is making me quite… anxious, for lack of a better word.”

You watch in amazement as the blankets fold themselves up.

“You’re a magic user?!” Chan whirls on Minho, eyes wide in shock. There’s an edge of something akin to fear or anger - you can’t quite place it, distracted instead by the way the room accommodates for two more people.

“What, your princess didn’t mention that I’m a mage?” Minho retorts, amusement in his eyes. “Shame. But that seems the least of your problems, if you’re coming to my door at this hour. Now, sit.”

An invisible force maneuvers you and Chan down into the sofa. Chan falls with an indignant sound - was this his first time encountering magic? You’d never talked to Chan about magic, before. Nothing beyond stories of faeries and witches, curses and potions.

“Minho,” you begin, before Chan could say anything to worsen a relationship you were surprised had started off on such bad footing. “We- we need you help. I need your help.”

You meet his eye, and for the first time that night, Minho holds your gaze with a seriousness that felt befitting of the situation. Was he aware, after all, of the situation? You were sure that the voice you had heard earlier that night had been his. But no matter how you tried to rethink the situation, there was nothing you could think of that would explain why he had told you to run.

Perhaps you had imagined it, in your drowsed, sluggish state, but you search his face all the same, for any sign that he had sent you the message, had been aware of the potential danger you had been in.

He turns away, a shrug of his shoulders the only sign that he had heard your request at all.

Minho moves to the sink, and in a surprising act of normalcy, picks of a sponge and turns on the tap. He begins to wash his dishes.

Chan glances towards you - this person who you had believed would help obviously showed no care about whatever predicament you were in.

You fidget nervously at the velvet of your dress. Minho places a soaped up plate in the adjacent sink.

“I was hoping-”

“If you knew where to find me,” he suddenly says, his back still towards you and Chan, “Then you’ll know I run a business. Magical assistance in exchange for payment. And, as I recall, the pair of you are quite penniless at the moment.”

“Her highness is still the royal princess.” Chan sounded like he was speaking in court, stating facts as if to argue their case. His voice was clear, rock solid despite your wavering faith in Minho. “Whilst we may currently be in a difficult situation, rest assured that your assistance, should it be provided and adequate, will be rewarded fittingly.”

Minho doesn’t reply to this. He continues to wash his dishes. In the silence, you look around the living space.

Unlike your own home, the walls of Minho’s house were bare of any intricacies. Simple wood, with no grand photos of family members hanging - though, knowing Minho, you’d be surprised if he even had any. Across the fireplace mantel were jars of what seemed to be dried up herbs, sticks of what you recognised as cinnamon, and- were those egg shells? A strange assortment of things, you mused.

“Your highness,” Chan whispers. He leans in towards you, sofa shifting under him, and raises a hand to cover his mouth. “Perhaps your trust- Apologies. Perhaps we are unwelcomed here. It may be best we leave as soon as possible, if this boy refuses to help us.”

“He’s the same age as us, Chan.” Well, you think he is, anyways. “Please - just give it another minute.”

Despite your hopes, Chan seems to be right. The only thing dissuading you from the belief that Minho wanted nothing to do with your recent events was the fact that he hadn’t blatantly turned you away.

The sound of water eases and shuts off. Minho busies his hands - with what, you couldn’t see.

“Was there trouble? At the palace?”

You’re surprised by his question - so he was willing to help? Or, at the very least, hear you out?

“Yes, how did-”

“What makes you say that?” Chan says, and a jolt ran through you. Never had Chan spoken over you so forcefully before. He doesn’t meet your eyes and instead frowns at the back of the mage’s head.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. He continues whatever other task he had started, back to you. After a few seconds, he turns and grabs for a tea towel. He leans back against the sink, wiping his hands.

“Well, is it not the most obvious thing to have happened?” With a forced smile at Chan, Minho discards the towel behind him. “Why else would you and the princess be at my door, penniless and on foot, at this hour? If not for trouble at the palace, surely you would have opted for a horse or two, and if you knew I ran a business, surely you would come with some form of payment.”

The points, while well made, seemed to do little to ease whatever suspicion had overcome Chan - it didn’t take much to guess what those suspicions were concerning, and you turn to Chan with a resigned look.

“It took you some time to formulate such an easily deducible answer,” Chan muses aloud.

“Well, then why ask such an obvious question?” Minho retorts and all of a sudden the temperature in the room seems to drop. The air seems to fizz, and a stroke of fear enters your body as he returns Chan’s glare with his own pointed look.

He pushes off of the sink and walks forward.

He doesn’t carry the same angry threat that you’d seen come from Chan when his men were out of line. No glowering, no fists at his side, no long strides to advance upon his opponent. He seems to simply walk across the room instead, his head held high and jaw clenched ever so subtly, never breaking eye contact with Chan. He stops half-way - he doesn’t need to make the full distance. Chan abruptly stands up and makes his own advance.

“Chan, honestly*-***”

“I don’t quite appreciate the way you’re regarding me, knight.” Each of Minho’s words seems to be accentuated by the flicker of the fireplace flame. They’re spoken clearly, carefully - not quite a whisper, but then again, it didn’t take much for him to be heard in the silence. “The implications you’re making, while subtle, are not left unknown to me, human.”

The two of them, knight and mage, are in the middle of Minho’s living space, the tension so high that you didn’t know who to fear for.

“I’ll have you know something, mage*.***” Chan snarls. “I don’t trust you. Not one bit; not at all.” He’s breathing down Minho’s chest, a snarl you’d never seen before turning the face of someone you’d grown up with into someone almost unrecognisable. “I’m only here because her highness believes strongly that you will help us.” He jabs a finger into Minho’s chest, though the latter only raises a brow. “However, it is my job to keep her safe and even if I respect her opinion of others, it does not mean that her and I are of the same mind.”

He’s breathing heavily by the end of it, the tips of his ears red. You had risen from your seat at some point, the waves of unease in your stomach turning turbulent. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.

“And I’ll remind you that it is my house you are standing in and it is my assistance that you are seeking.”

Minho is no where near taller than Chan. The two stand face to face, and yet it was like the mage was looking down at Chan. The scary calm that had taken over him, the careful control of his emotions and his magic - you could feel it in the air, feel the static you had felt earlier, only this was cold. Cold, chilling static, like that of winter waters or thick snowfall.

He doesn’t break eye-contact with Chan. He blinks, he takes steady breaths, he keeps his chin raised, but he doesn’t falter.

After what feels like an age, Chan turns and walks past Minho. You take a step after him, fearful that he was about to leave out the front door, but he simply places himself on one of the vacated stools. He was out of Minho’s point of view, and though the latter was still in his, Chan crossed his arms and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

It seemed impossible for you to exhale fully, much less take a deep breath. You had expected some resistance from Chan when he inevitably found out that Minho was a mage but whatever had happened in the last few minutes was beyond anything you could have imagined.

“Minho, I-” You turn hastily away from Chan and to Minho, who had not moved. He looks at you now with troubled eyes. Gulping, you take in the deepest breath you can manage and exhale through pursed lips. You try again. “Could we perhaps take this elsewhere?”

A tired, resigned smile makes its way to Minho’s face. “Perhaps that would be best.”

It turns out, you discover, that one of the two mysterious doors led out to a garden.

The door shuts quietly behind you as you breathe in the night air. Minho’s garden, while no larger than his living space, seemed to house a variety of plants. Flowers of differing colours, shapes and sizes filled the majority of the space, alongside some recognisable vegetables - tomatoes and lettuce, though few, seemed fresh and ready to harvest. All the plants, you notice, seem to shine in the night. Taking a step closer, you almost let out an exclamation as one, two, three glowing creatures dart in and between the flowers.

“They maintain the garden for me,” Minho says, as if it explained everything. You turn to him, having forgotten for a moment that he was with you. “A marvelous help, they are, especially when I’m away on business.”

He picks up a basket, hanging it off his arm and walks up to a purple flower. You watch as Minho inspects it before pulling a pair of scissors from the basket and cutting the flower off its stem.

“Minho, I wanted to apologise for-”

“There is no need. I don’t seek an apology from you - nor the knight, I might add, before you berate him for his behaviour.” His basket was quickly filling with flowers, though you note there’s no more than two of each kind. “It is not uncommon for me to hear such things, for it is not easy to place your faith in things you do not understand. Though, I confess, such things are less common now. Do you mind?”

He hands you the basket - now filled with so many things that you wouldn’t know where to start if he were to ask you to remove a flower from the lot - and picks up another. This one he begins to fill with produce.

“But he is still my knight, and I ask for your assistance not just for myself but for him as well. Tonight-” You break off, and Minho spares you a glance over the shoulder before he returns to his carrots. “It is perhaps unfair of me to ask you for your help, after all these years,” you finish, an increasing hopelessness somehow making sense of itself in your mind.

A decade, perhaps, it had been since you last saw him. You had every possible means to seek him out after parting, had an abundance of ways you could have assisted him - for you knew, even if he had rejected help the first time, that to do something was better than nothing, and yet you had kept quiet about your encounter. For his own safety, one may have reasoned, but in hindsight it seemed a child’s selfishness was what kept him a secret. Something for you to know, and no one else. Not the maids who tended to you every day, or the queen who asked you what you had done that afternoon, or Chan who was by your side whenever possible.

Minho had returned to stand before you, the second basket full of tomatoes, lettuce, and a range of root vegetables. The hem of his pants were speckled with dirt, and a smudge of it ran over his cheek.

“You saved my life, y/n. I think you underestimate the consequences of our meeting far too much.”

It was like the child you had met so many years ago was back before you, a vulnerability in his eyes that you couldn’t quite understand. You, who had always been sheltered, had always had your safety assured, prioritised, and the child who had been covered in dirt and bruises, twigs sticking out of his hair and so tangled up that you’d had to sit him down and carefully undo all the knots.

The way Minho looked at you now almost scared you - if your request had been not for help, but for his life, you were sure he would have said yes.

Unable to hold the truth in his gaze any longer, you busy yourself with readjusting the basket in your hand, carefully easing the petals away from the rim as to not crush them.

“The last thing I wish to do is to hold that over you, Minho,” you say softly. “It was wrong of me to come to you for help when I fear that asking it of others would endanger their safety. You too are part of this kingdom, and I cannot simply treat you different because of the past.”

“Can’t you?” He sounds wistful, you think, the words almost musing, so soft and quiet that you weren’t sure if they were meant for only your ears, or for no one’s at all.

Then, as if there had been no sentimentality at all, Minho flourishes his hand and the basket of flowers levitates out of your grasp. “I’ll help you - but first, it would seem a good night’s sleep would do you well.”

The door swing opens as Minho nears it, and he gestures for you to enter the house first. The flowers follow you in, Minho bringing up the rear.

Chan, who’d been pacing by the fire, looks up abruptly when he hears you come in. Relief seems to wash over his features, and you give him a strained smile.

“Minho said he’d help us.” You lay a hand on Chan’s arm, and the tension seems to leave his body at the confirmation of your physical presence. “We can rest here for the night, and figure everything out tomorrow.”

“On that note - here, to help you sleep.” A small opaque bottle floats its way to you. “Just light a match, drop in there and leave it in the room. I’m sure the night’s events will leave your mind running when given the chance.”

You take the jar in your hands, feeling its weight as the magic disappears. Peering inside seemed pointless - the opening was just small enough for your finger to fit in; barely enough light could enter the jar for you to see its contents.

“And a salve, for any minor wounds you may have.”

This time, a red jar lands by the sink. It’s even smaller than the bottle, barely the size of your palm. Though Minho doesn’t look at him, you know that he had taken note of the wound at Chan’s side.

“You can take my bed, y/n. The knight can sleep on the floor, or something. I don’t really care.”

“You little-”

Minho ignores Chan, moving to grab a satchel from the table. Your eyes follow him, the way he truly seems to disregard Chan’s presence as he walks past him and towards the front door.

“And you? Where will you sleep, then? I insist you keep your bed-”

“Oh, I won’t be sleeping tonight.” Hand on the doorknob, he turns to you with a glint in his eye. “The moon is full. It’d be a waste to do something as mundane as sleep tonight. I’ll be close by, and there are protective charms on the house. Worry not.”

The door shuts behind him before you or Chan can even protest.

—

Chan’s wound had stopped bleeding. Though he had played it off as a simple graze, you were relieved to see it wasn’t too much of an understatement. The initial redness that surrounded the wound had frozen your mind with fear, but after taking a wet cloth to it, you discovered that it was mostly dried blood that had spread.

The salve Minho had given you smelt resinous, like wood that had been left out in the rain. Your face scrunches up as you scoop a small amount up with your fingers. Setting the jar down next to the chair Chan was sat on, you steady yourself with a hand on his knee and run the salve over his wound. He flinches at the sensation, muscles tensing under your fingers, but keeps his shirt held up.

“You don’t think he’s tricked you into poisoning me, do you?”

You spare a glare at Chan.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, though you know he was just trying to ease the tension.

Though Minho hadn’t returned since he’d left, you could still feel Chan’s discomfort with the situation. He too seemed to sense that you wee troubled - you had caught him shooting you anxious glances as you’d prepared to treat his wound.

“You know, he told me not to berate you.” Having finished applying the salve, you push yourself up from the floor and dust your skirts off. Chan avoids your eye, fixating instead on straightening his shirt and picking at the torn fabric under the flickering light of the fireplace. “Just because he says he doesn’t seek an apology, doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t get one.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, and he looks up you through furrowed brows. “Are you ordering me to apologise to him?”

Your jaw drops at his words, helpless against the hurt that they bring you. For him to bring status into this, to make it seem like he would rather be anywhere but here - his words from earlier echo in your brain: I’m only here because her highness believes strongly that you will help us.

“Chan, that’s not at all what I-”

“I don’t feel like I’ve anything to apologise for,” he says, voice edged with annoyance. “I don’t trust him. I have spoken my truth - but I won’t interrogate you for yours.” His voice is gentler, resigned. “Though, I admit the mage is right. You should rest, your highness. It has been an eventful night, and you will need your energy for tomorrow.”

It felt wrong, to leave and rest without resolving the tension that had formed between you and Chan. A part of you didn’t understand why he had been so aggressive towards Minho, why he was so against the idea of his help… and yet you knew it was wrong of you to expect Chan to understand your thoughts and feelings when you had given him nothing to help form an understanding of your relationship with Minho. To Chan, you realised, Minho was simply an unknown stranger who possessed the abilities to have aided the night’s chaos.

But it felt wrong to reveal your and Minho’s shared history with Chan. Afterall, it wasn’t only your story to tell.

So you take a deep breath, try to catch Chan’s eye one more time, before murmuring a small goodnight.

Minho’s bedroom, located behind the second of the mysterious doors, was dimly lit by a a candle sitting on the corner of his desk. There was a single, unmade bed next to it, and a set of drawers at the other end of the room. Another door (which you presumed led to the bathroom, for you hadn’t seen one in your time here, and what home had no bathroom?) stood in the corner, next to the drawers. There was a window,

It was a small bedroom, void of anything unnecessary.

Placing the bottle Minho had given you on the table, you search for a match. His desk was covered in books and papers, and it’s not until you brave a small box on his desk that you find the matches. You do as he had instructed - striking one, you watch as the corner you stood in lit orange before dropping it into the bottle.

You had been skeptical that dropping a match into such a small space would work - surely, the fire would be extinguished, right? - but you’re mildly surprised when a soft, sweet scent arises. It reminded you of home, of late nights spend in the library reading stories of knights and princesses, witches and curses. A familiar drowsiness overcomes you.

It doesn’t take long for you to find yourself sliding under Minho’s covers. Your mind spares a moment for you to feel embarrassed at the act of sleeping in not only someone else’s bed, but in a man’s bed, before it lets the exhaustion take over.

This time, you don’t fight the heaviness of your body like you had so many hours ago.

This time, you let it consume you.

---

a/n: hi hi! thank you for reading. comments, throughts, feedback, questions - all of these (and more) are appreciated! if you want to be added to the taglist (or alternatively, removed) please let me know <3

#this is my ultimate favorite Chan Story

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scarsnfevers · 11 months

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COMMENT ON OLD FICS, I BEG YOU!

I swear to god after like a week people will still be reading but nobody leaves comments anymore and I just want to make it absolutely clear that I would be excited and elated to get a comment on these fics one hundred years after I post them.

A FIC IS NEVER TOO OLD TO LEAVE A NICE COMMENT ON. GO FORTH AND COMMENT!

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scarsnfevers · 1 year

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KIKI'S DELIVERY SERVICE (1989) - LEE KNOW

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scarsnfevers · 1 year

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PSA:

IF YOU LIKE SOMEONE’S WORK, PLEASE REBLOG. PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK. PLEASE DON’T JUST LIKE IT. LIKING DOES NOTHING ON THIS HELLSITE’S ALGORITHM.

I’ve noticed at least three people in the last two days like ALL FIVE PARTS of PMW and not leave a single shred of feedback. If you liked it enough to read the over 20k words it consists of thus far, then I’d like to assume you like it enough to share your thoughts and help it make its way to more readers.

Even if you don’t take the algorithm into account, it’s honestly one of the best feelings as a writer to receive feedback from someone who enjoyed reading something you’ve created. I quite literally have cried happy tears reading people’s reactions to my work.

We, as writers, are providing you with our work FOR FREE. Hours upon hours of writing, plotting out storylines, building the world and characters. When the likes outweigh the reblogs and comments so exponentially, it definitely (at least for me) makes me feel pretty shitty. It makes it seem like people would be embarrassed to have my work seen on their blog.

To those who actively engage with my content and give me feedback: Thank you, so fucking much. You are quite literally the driving force behind me continuing to write. You are doing so much more than just sharing my work, you are motivating me to not give up. You make it worth it, and I adore you.

TLDR: IF YOU ENJOYED SOMEONE’S WORK, DON’T JUST LIKE IT. IT DOES NOTHING FOR THE ALGORITHM AND DISCOURAGES WRITERS.

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scarsnfevers · 1 year

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i was not made for hookup culture. love me for an eternity or do not touch me at all

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scarsnfevers · 1 year

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i loooove being delusional. catch me ignoring reality altogether. catch me never being reasonable ever. catch me straight up making up things in my head to cope. delusion is my best friend

#me whenever wherever I am #zoning out and making up stories in my head #thinking about skz all the time

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scarsnfevers · 1 year

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Thank you 🍒😁

Cherry Wine (18+)

summary: having a job that takes up all of your time caused a lot of stress. That's why your two friends Minho and Jisung have come up with something very special for your vacation together.

pairing: minho x fem. reader x jisung

genre: definitely smut

warnings: alcohol, threesome, orgasm denial, oral (f & m receiving), anal, double penetration, reader is called babygirl/angel/baby, praising kink, daddy kink (minho), hair pulling, unprotected sex

word count: ~7,3k

minors do not interact!

You had planned such a vacation for a long time and now you three had finally found time.

❆

You hoped he would be back here before you get snowed in the car.

It took around twenty minutes for Minho to come back. Now you could finally unload your luggage and take it to the nearby cabin.

❆

All they could hear from the living room was the clinking of some glasses, porcelain and the crackling of plastic.

❆

The bowl of chips was almost empty and so were your glasses. Probably this wouldn't have happened if the movie was so thrilling....or the wine tasted so good...

"I bet you taste really good." Whispered Jisung as he spread more kisses around the waistband of your panties.

You bit your lower lip impatiently.

"Taste me." You whispered.

You felt your panties slowly sliding down your legs and his warm breath moving over your pubic bone. "Is it that bad?" He asked, just to keep you on tenterhooks.

"Please, Jisung." Your right hand wandered frantically from the bed linen to his hair to sink your fingers into it.

"Okay angel, relax, you can forget about all this stress."

As his lips touched your clit you moaned loudly. Your back arched into a slight hunchback, causing Jisung to gently wrap his arms around your thighs, so you couldn't escape.

"Then our angel shall have what she wants."

"There's something w-what, fuck oh my, t-that I've always wanted to try." You gasped, biting your lower lip. "Tell us babygirl." Groaned Minho, burying his face against your shoulder.

Your pussy was literally sucking in Jisung's cock, causing him to increase his speed and groan out "God Y/N you feel so good."

"Fuck, g-gonna cum!" You were glad you had a lonely cabin in the mountains because otherwise, someone would definitely have heard you screaming.

After one last thrust into your ass, he slid out of you to penetrate your wet and cum-filled hole right after.

The room filled with gasps and three friends panting for air.

"We should do this more often." Remarked Jisung. "Whenever Y/N feels stressed." You had to laugh exhaustedly at his words. "Sounds good, I'm in."

Happy and content, the three of you snuggled up to spend the rest of the night together.

You would take care of the mess later.

You made it! Thank you reading! Please reblog and comment if liked this oneshot 🍒

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