Is It Bad To Say I Binged This Series In Less Than An Hour? SO FUCKING GOOD OMG

is it bad to say i binged this series in less than an hour? SO FUCKING GOOD OMG

Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙭𝙭𝙫𝙞𝙞𝙞. 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝, 𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© Dec 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」

Changbin’s pin leads you downtown, to a storied building by dusk.

It’s stuffed in amongst a street of others just like it, vibrant signs for cram schools and cafés and offices for let splashing colour on the dull concrete. You text Changbin as to your arrival, and several minutes later, he emerges from the main entrance, a snapback pulled low over his eyes. His smile is irreverent; on approach he looks as though to embrace you, yet thinks twice on account of the publicity.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, hands tucked in his pockets. “Come in?”

Your heart races. “Sure.”

He leads the way inside and up several flights of stairs, the view of broad shoulders and slim middle and peachy ass so prime you feel like you should be paying for it. Fuck, he’s so edible.

At the third floor, he takes you through a heavy metal door. With no expectations, the studio setup you walk into a pleasant surprise; it’s small but well presented. Soundproof foam lines the walls, glossy hardwood floors are chic. Sound mixing equipment is arranged around a recording booth, a standing microphone with a pop filter takes centre stage. A leather corner sofa is draped with a black hoodie—Changbin’s, you assume—and the man watches as you take it all in.

“Wow.”

You wonder if 3racha record here. Maybe there’ll be traces of them somewhere—

“This isn’t where we record, just so you know,” Changbin says.

Oh.

He laughs softly. “Nah, we go to the label for that. This place is mine. Like, my personal studio.”

“You own it?”

“It was a rental at first, but when we made it big I took it off the owner’s hands. Pretty cool, right?”

“It’s awesome, Bin.”

Your gazes meet across the small space; a blush colours his cheeks. Your mouth waters with urge to bite them.

“You want to sit?” he asks, gestures to the small sofa.

You nod and do so, the leather cool on your skin. Changbin takes the desk chair and wheels his way over, adequate space maintained, much to your disdain. Silence settles, as does the awkward, and that’s valid, you suppose. You’ve not seen each other since Hoe Records, and that was; well. He came on your back. So—

“You look good.”

You scoff a laugh. You were doing chores before you left the apartment, and did so in a rush. God knows how sweaty and unkempt you appear. “Liar.”

“Hey. I don’t lie. You always look good.”

“Always?”

He grins. “I mean; maybe I'm a little gutted you didn’t turn up in uniform this time.”

Just like that, it all comes back. The little black box creaks open and it’s a sensory tide of his hands on you. His mouth on you. Ghosts of memories that shorten your breath and prick at your skin.

“I’m sorry for going quiet,” he says. “Especially after...”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“No, it’s not cool. I don’t want you to think I'm like that. I wanted to see you again. Wanted to see you every day, actually. I just... couldn’t.”

You wait for the elaboration. His leg bounces uncharacteristically.

“Things got heated with Chan.” He bites his lip. “I had to let it cool off.”

I know.

“I told him about us.”.

I know.

“He got pretty upset.”

“I’m sorry.”

Changbin shrugs. “Don’t be. I’m not. We did nothing wrong.”

Oh?

“So... Chan really gave you explicit permission to have sex with other people?” you ask.

He frowns. “Of course.”

Not to discredit him, but you want to ask if he’s sure, if Chan truly understood what he agreed to, if anything could have been misconstrued.

“You think I’d have fucked you behind my boyfriends’ back?” he asks incredulously.

“What? No, I just—”

“That’s cheating. You think I cheated?”

“I just don’t understand how Chan could be so upset about something he agreed to. I mean; he would have known it was coming. He would have been prepared. At least in part. I’ve been thinking about it, and the way he’s acting, it’s like… Did he feel ambushed by it all? Did he say yes to you but mean no? I don’t get it.”

Changbin’s gaze falls, his jaw ticks.

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” you add with a sigh.

“It’s you.”

“What?”

He leans forward, elbows on knees. He speaks softly, but his words lance your chest one by one, each drawing blood. Each fucking painful.

“It’s not that he doesn’t want to us to have sex with other people. It’s that he doesn’t want us to have sex with you.”

fst marathon event~ next chapter in 24 hrs. drop a reblog and comment, show your support and i'll keep the content coming x

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ♡ 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

NO FELIX NOT BOKKARI'S CHILDREN!

Waiter : What can I get for you sir?

Felix : I WISH TO DEVOUR THE UNBORN

Waiter :???

Chan ,next to him *tired*: Eggs. He wants eggs

HIS WAIST OH MY GAWD

---

he's so pupu 🥺🥺🥺😭😭

Bang Chan ✧ 눈 코 입 

KIWI — [18+!]

“Can you… cuddle me to sleep, please?”

His head snaps up to you, “Y/N… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m gonna sleep outside, okay?”

You’re the one to wrap their fingers around his wrist now, pulling him towards the van. “Nooo, it’s too cold. You’re gonna get sick. Stay a little longer?”

He sighs, “Okay.”

🥝 SYNOPSIS: After graduating from college, you decide to travel around New Zealand and celebrate your freedom. But when you buy a van for the journey, the salesman scams you, selling the exact same car to both you and another person who’s no other than your childhood best friend you haven’t seen in years—and still have a huge crush on…

This is my entry for @skzwritingcafe 's July/August event “Summertime Confessions”! (I am a little over the deadline but still wanted to post this since the event inspired me to pick up this WIP again)

🌴 CONTENT INFO: chan x afab reader, dj chan, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, travel au, only one bed trope, fluff/angst/smut, mutual pining, based on a dream I had about my childhood best friend whose name happens to be felix but I changed this story to chan lmao, prices for cars might be unrealistic but a) i don’t own a car and b) i don’t know that much about new zealand’s economy (i did research tho!!), warnings and smut tags under the cut

🛻 WORD COUNT: 12.0K

🗺️ CONTENT WARNING: alcohol consumption (also includes excessive consumption once as well as mention of underage drinking in the past), short mention of breakup, scam/fraud, jealousy (both chan and reader), reader once calls chan daddy but sarcastically and non-sexually lmao

🧩 SMUT: dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi-protected sex, choking, spanking, creampie, name calling (doll, dear, slut, good girl)

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 nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.

Well. That’s a bumpy journey so far. What a start.

A drink spilled all over your shirt, crumbs of crisps in your hair and a bruise on your knee. And if this isn’t already too much for your stressed out and anxious heart—the man you’ve never ever expected to see again stands right in front of you.

But let’s start again from the beginning and how you ended up here. A quick recap, shall we?

Exactly one week and three days ago you finally graduated from college. Hard work pays off—more or less—and since your new full time job will start in a month, you finally have a little bit of vacation in what feels like years. 

So, that’s how you found yourself spontaneously booking a flight to Auckland, ready to spend some time and money traveling through New Zealand’s nature and taking in all the landscapes you’ve dreamt about. You just need this—need to do something different before you will actually start being an adult and drown in boring everyday life.

The flight went quite well but the airport you arrived at was a disaster—due to many delays of other connections you had to wait for your huge backpack for a few hours, totally exhausted and tired from the trip. The hostel you have reserved a bed in for your first night is overbooked and now you have to share the room with ten other people. Well, that is a normal hostel situation but you're just too sleepy to deal with anyone right now.

Which is why it’s ironic that you’re out of all places at a club instead. But no matter how tired you are, it was too noisy in the bedroom so you decided to go out again, hoping to get a little more tired so that you will be able to pass out due to exhaustion and fall into a deep slumber once you’re back.

And then the snowball effect hits you—the people in here are already drunk, too drunk, and possibly on other substances and you arrived sober. Spontaneous ideas aren’t your thing and maybe that's why you underestimated that whole scenario.

The music is quite good though and the drinks aren’t expensive as you would have thought—although they are still ridiculously high in alcohol percentage. So, you stick to sipping on one beer throughout your first hour of being here.

Every man inside here seems to pretend he’s in a zoo, hunting for the next woman that accidentally looks in his direction. It’s disgusting, really.

God. This is a very touristy place. Yes, you are a tourist, too. It doesn’t make any sense but you’re not here to make any sense. You’re here to forget about your exhausting travel to Auckland and you’re here to forget about the past two months or rather your whole life.

It’s a shame he’s still under your skin. That stupid ex boyfriend that decided to break up with you during the last week of you writing your thesis. You still managed to finish on time but you’ve been an emotional wreck ever since.

That was a lie. You’ve always been an emotional wreck but you developed to a whole new level.

However—that’s why you’re here now. Ready for a fresh start. Ready to possibly get a little tipsy and enjoy the music. At least the DJ is doing a good job. You seriously would have expected them to play some shitty cheap produced rap music or whatever young people listen to these days.

All those kids from far away that search for the meaning of life after highschool graduation by exploring either New Zealand or Australia—of course, far away from home, thinking they will come back with a whole new personality.

Well… the longer you think about that harsh thesis, the more you realise the irony layered in your thoughts. This might, partly, apply to you too.

Nevertheless, you didn’t come all the way to New Zealand and crossed the Tasman Sea to worry until your last brain cell melts.

You’re here to forget.

You’re here for a fresh start.

Far away from the troubles. Far away from your past. Far away from Sydney.

And everything that connects with this.

Maybe, the best thing is probably to get another drink—which is more than beer—one or two will be enough. After all, you don’t want to get shitfaced on the first night and the hot temperatures will do the rest anyway. You’ve got an important appointment tomorrow and need to appear at your best.

Heading towards the bar, you ignore the comments of the men that get a little annoyed about you pushing them to the side to get to your destination. Maybe they would react differently, if you gently shoved them aside, placing your hand on their lower back or—accidentally, of course—even a little more south.

After all, that’s what they usually do when the roles are reversed, right?

You manage to get to the bar, a little furious and still way too sober, someone’s drink spilled over your shirt and some crisps in your hair, but you waste no time and order your favourite drink.

You rummage around in your little purse, fishing out your wallet. Opening the pocket in which you stow away your coins, your fingers stumble across a shimmering object.

You’re not surprised. Yes, even after all these years you still have that necklace, carrying it with you wherever you go. You wonder if the magnet still works, if the charm would connect to its opposite one—the one that is owned by someone else. Of course, in case that person hasn’t thrown their necklace away yet. Which you’re convinced they have.

An hour and two drinks in, you’re hovering over the dance floor, still very much enjoying the great choice of music until the unexpected happens.

You take a closer look at the DJ, deeply mesmerised by his skills—when it clicks.

It’s him.

It’s really him.

The one and only Christopher Bang.

He looks so different but he also looks the same. His dimples are visible even in the dim light of the club. He wears his hair curly and black again—he used to straighten it a lot back then and occasionally get it bleached with your help. His face is filled with some piercings, his arms are decorated with tattoos.

His… wow. His arms.

Going to the gym and swimming must pay off.

But the worst part is…

You believe you’re gonna fall for him all over again.

And then his gaze meets yours.

Fuck.

You should have been more careful. Pretending this didn’t happen, you focus on the drink in your hand, watching the ice cubes swirl around when you stir the straw.

Until the unexpected happens once again.

He plays your favourite song.

Kiwi. Yes, you were a Harry Styles girl back then and even though eighteen year old Chan was too cool to admit it, he liked his music too.

What you don’t know is that Kiwi is still number one of his most listened songs on Spotify of all time until this day.

2017. Your last year of highschool. You listened to it all the time.

When Chan and you were cramming for your finals. When that guy from your chemistry class broke your heart. When you realised that you’re in love with your best friend.

You’ve always thought the both of you would end up together. Everyone thought so.

It’s an absolute cliché. You met when you were only one year old in kindergarten. Your mothers were best friends, glad about the fact the two of you could grow up together. Of course, they’ve always made some sort of joke about it—how Chan would marry you once you would be older.

For a long time you thought so, too.

He was your first kiss. Rather an experimental one when you were sixteen and just wanted to get it over with.

You had already had a small crush on him at that time and wondered, if he would return those feelings after making out with you. For a second you were so sure about it. You will never forget about the sparkles in his eyes when he let go of you again, lips even puffier than before from all the kissing.

Then he went on a date with Maya and everything went downhill.

That was in eleventh grade. They dated until your last year of highschool while you throughout that time… well, made zero experiences.

However, in eleventh grade as well, Chan started bringing you to Friday evening parties at the nearby beach. The people with you were other students from your year but they were Chan’s friends and not really yours. Those meetings basically only consisted of getting drunk in the sun and moonlight.

Maya was always there, too. For two years. Jealousy was basically eating you alive at that point but you obviously didn’t want to destroy Chan’s relationship. He seemed so happy. He really was. But you weren’t the one responsible for that.

One night at the beach, one of your classmates—Minho—and you got a little closer than planned. He used to be popular for being the typical high school fuckboy, quite known for changing his girlfriends every other week.

Of course, you fell for it, too. You’ve never regretted it. Although losing your virginity to him a week before graduating, right in the open, in the woods near the beach wasn’t the most romantic experience. But he was gentle. He made you feel wanted and loved although he was far from having any serious feelings for you.

But that was okay. You were still in love with Chan anyway.

This whole thing went on until the start of college and during that summer, your back then still best friend caught Minho and you one night.

Maya and him broke up some weeks after graduation since she was about to start studying in Japan and the relationship was basically doomed. There was another reason that you’ve never known about that also caused their bond to crumble.

Chan’s feelings for you.

But, well, it was too late now anyway. Even if there wasn’t Minho, Chan was still about to go to another country as well, leaving you in Sydney.

You get dragged back into reality when the song ends. However, your former best friend is still looking at you—a huge smirk decorating his beautiful face.

It’s an instinct kicking in. Survival mode, if you will. You turn around, almost bumping into a group of guys.

Downing the rest of your drink, you place the empty glass on some random table before making your way out of the building.

The way back to the hostel is a blur. You realise a little late that your eyes are stained with tears, ready to flood down like a waterfall.

You’ve never expected to see him again.

Well, you probably won’t another time after tonight. There’s no way you’re gonna go back into that club again.

🥝

You’ve underestimated the impact of seeing Chan again for a quick second. Your dreams were wild—partly in a bad way, partly in an embarrassing way that you don’t want to think about.

However, the fact that there’s a superstition that says that whatever you dream about when sleeping in a bed for the first time turns into reality, lets the spiral of worrying wander further.

Fuck. All these years in college you thought you were finally over him.

But Chan was your first love. The older you’ve grown, the more you have realised he has always been more than just a crush. 

But well—you missed that chance.

You’re torn between regretting leaving the club so impulsive and being convinced it was the right decision. You could spend the whole day wondering what would have happened if you stayed.

But well—you missed that chance once again.

After putting all your stuff into your huge backpack, you get ready for the day—taking an unfortunate ice cold shower in the shared bathroom and choosing a comfortable outfit—and leave the hostel once you’re ready.

The next bus brings you to a car dealership you made an appointment with online for today.

Because—you of course can’t start a van tour experience without a van, right?

You usually listen to your gut feeling and in at least nine out of ten cases it’s very dependable. However, with all the overthinking going on, your brain decides to ignore the fact that something about this store and the owner in specific feels… off. Quite oddinary.

The vans all look good, especially the emerald coloured one he is currently showing and presenting to you but you really should have spent at least a minute to look into the Google reviews… because they are either bad or fake. But you’re not aware of that.

You need a car anyway, it’ll be fine.

As long as the car functions and doesn’t cost you your whole year’s income, it’ll be okay.

“What do you say?” the salesman asks you, pointing at another vehicle in a similar shade to the previous one.

“Oh, I love the colour. What a beautiful green,” you tell him.

“It is! And it’s pretty spacious although it doesn’t look like it,” he exclaims.

The man walks around the car and opens it with the keys—he realised you seem to prefer this colour and luckily he’s got a few pieces to offer with it.

“What does it include in the price? It seems pretty cheap,” you ask, realising after speaking how negative your words come off.

But you saw a sign that read $ 2750 and fairly speaking—that is not a lot for a vehicle like that. Not even if you consider that it’s secondhand.

“That’s just because of the vehicle’s age,” the man starts explaining. He opens the door on the side completely, showing off the inside. “It has all the necessities. A mattress, enough storage space, a built-in table that you can let down when you open the trunk and it comes with free camping chairs.”

You take your time to examine all the details, checking if everything works fine.

But there doesn’t seem to be a single issue. He allows you to drive for a few minutes, take a short trip through the parking lot and everything is indeed absolutely fine.

There will probably never be a chance like this. You should definitely purchase it.

Or at least your very sad bank account is whispering that to you.

“I’d like to buy this one.”

The salesman brings you back to his little office which takes you at least a five minute walk but you don’t mind. You get that he wants to sell the car first before handing the keys to you.

“$ 2500 and it’s yours,” he offers once you arrive at the destination, lowering the price a little.

And you’re not here to complain.

Oh, Y/N. You should see all those red flags but apparently you’re a little colour blind. Not a surprise, considering that car you’re about to buy is green.

Or is it?

You pick out your wallet to grab your credit card, when you stumble across the magnet necklace again.

After seeing Chan for a brief moment, you start wondering again, if he still owns that necklace or—possibly—even wears it.

Okay. Slow down, Y/N. It’s getting ridiculous and delusional.

The beeping sound of the payment terminal wakes you up again. The salesman hands you the receipt, before grabbing a metallic object that is hanging on the wall behind him.

“Here. The keys for you.”

“Thanks,” you say, giving him a kind smile.

“I have to thank you,” he replies. “I’m off work now, have a safe trip.”

Oh.

Well, you’re probably gonna find your way back to the car, right?

In a parking lot filled with what feels like thousands of vehicles.

The walk back takes you at least fifteen minutes but there’s no need to hurry anyway.

You’ve got your car. You’ve still got enough money. You’ve got a great journey ahead of you. Everything paid off for this moment. You manifested it and now you’re luck is within reach.

Arriving back at near car, you place your huge backpack on the ground for a second in order to grab a thin jacket—it’s gotten a little chilly and you have to adjust things in the new van first, prepare Google Maps and make a general plan before you’re ready to start the adventure.

You close the bag again, before you walk towards the green vehicle.

You walk closer. And even closer.

Until you spot someone behind the car, hovering a big backpack—that isn’t yours—into the trunk.

You check again if it’s indeed your car but from what you can tell it is the one that the salesman showed and—most importantly—sold to you. It’s the same shade of sage, the little lanterns are hanging inside and the mattress has the washed out grey colour from earlier.

It is your car. The keys fit and you remember all the details from half an hour ago.

You unlock the door on the driver’s side and place down your bottle of water, before you carefully lean the huge backpack against the car. The waist bag stays on, the little keychain with the kiwi dangling around.

“Oh, what a surprise.”

Oh, God.

No.

That is impossible.

The odds are basically zero. Minus one hundred, if you will.

But of all people who could have been here, doing something to the car you just bought, it’s none other than Christopher Bang.

“Hell, no,” you let out.

Your former best friend walks around the corner until he fills your vision completely. It allows you to take in his full figure. He is wearing a black tank top, showing off his ridiculously muscular arms and—of course—fucking grey sweatpants.

“Hell, yes,” he giggles.

But why the fuck did he just put his backpack into the trunk of your car.

How did he even get it in there? How did he open the door?

You keep wondering until two objects cross your gaze.

A key.

And a receipt.

For that exact pastel green vehicle that you just bought.

“He sold that car to the both of us?!”

“Seems like it,” Chan says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Aren’t you… annoyed?! He fucking scammed us!”

Your childhood friend is so different. It’s not just that he looks older, even more tired than he used to in his teenage years but he is behaving so strangely.

Chan used to be the dad of the group, the one who took care of everyone, the one that made sure to pack enough water, tissues, sunscreen and plasters—just in case. He was the first person you came to after a fight with your parents or after getting back a test you failed.

He used to be your anchor. He used to hold you close when the waves hit the shore, clinging onto you.

But from the short conversation you can tell that five years can do a lot to a person. It feels as if there’s someone standing in front of you that looks a little like Chan but isn’t actually him.

“We can go back, if that’s what you want. But I’m not leaving the car to you. I spent four grand on it,” he says.

Your former best friend crosses his arms in front of his chest—just like he used to when you were children. At least this gives you a bit of comfort and familiarity, although it’s pretty stupid.

Then another thing clicks and you giggle.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Chan’s words come off way more annoyed than he intended. This is not how he imagined to meet you again. He’s dreamt about this day for such a long time now—both wanting to see you and to avoid you for the rest of his life.

After all, you were the one who didn’t show up at the airport when he went to Seoul five years ago. Sure, you weren’t on great terms back then—although you never got into a fight, simply stopped speaking as regularly as you used to—but he expected you, his oldest friend, to at least say goodbye.

He’s still convinced it was because of Minho. Even though it didn’t seem that serious in the beginning, Chan has been wondering throughout all these years if that guy turned into your boyfriend.

But seeing you here alone lets those chances shrink.

Similar to his patience.

Opposite to those feelings that are reborn inside his heart.

“I only paid $ 2500,” you tell him.

Yeah, Chan definitely made a very bad deal here, for sure.

“Then you should leave it to me,” he replies with a smirk.

“Oh, no. Forget that.”

You turn around on your feet, yanking the door open to reach for your water bottle. Downing most of the liquid, you throw it back onto the seat.

Chan is still standing there, watching every move with a smile that turns into a smug whenever your vision crosses his.

“Then we should talk to him,” he offers.

Chan isn’t an asshole. He won’t take the car away from you. Besides that, he got scammed, too.

“He left the lot… said his work day is over,” you share, letting your gaze meet the dirty floor you’re standing on.

“What a coincidence… not.”

Chan lets his head sink down as well, feeling defeated. It could be such a great, almost romantic, reunion but something seems off.

You’re so different.

It feels as if there’s someone standing in front of him that looks a little like you but isn’t actually you.

“What do you want us to do?” he asks, his voice turning a little smaller.

“I’m not gonna be in a car together with you,” you immediately let out.

Chan wants to be respectful. That’s just how he is or, well, how he used to be. Five years can do a lot to a person, being left without a goodbye can break a heart—even of those who seem to be the strongest.

He won’t let you go. Hit two birds with a stone. He could tease you for two reasons—revenge and regret.

Of course, Chan was the one who used to be in an almost two year long relationship with another girl but that was before his feelings. At least that’s what he’s telling himself, up until this day, secretly knowing it’s not the truth.

It’s not entirely your fault. Even though Chan is convinced that you have never reciprocated those feelings at some point, he still feels awful for kind of ignoring you as his best friend once Maya and him became a couple.

He dragged you to all those bad parties at the beach and then complained that you decided to have your own fun with Minho.

Chan is such an idiot. He knows that.

That’s why he decides to take his chance this time instead of letting it slip.

“It doesn’t seem like you have another option, doll.”

Doll.

That’s new.

Chan used to have many nicknames for you.

Angel. Dear. Honey. Darling.

All platonic—of course.

Something tells you he’s only using it to tease you and you might be right about that.

“Let’s just drive together for the first—I don’t know—few days, we’ll get some money and then we’ll buy a second car, okay?”

His offer is the most rational option.

You don’t have enough money to buy another car and even if you were able to, you wouldn’t. The both of you got scammed and the salesman is nowhere to be found. So, just make the best of it and pray that you’ll get a second vehicle as soon as possible.

Or well—let him get the money for that. This isn't how you envisioned your trip, after all.

“I’m on vacation here. I wasn’t planning on getting a job and even if I was, I doubt I will find something that pays well,” you say.

Chan sighs, getting a little closer to you, mainly out of habit. Your heart skips a beat, nevertheless.

“I’m working as a DJ tonight again. In a club by the coast in Tauranga. I heard they hire for other jobs as well,” he informs you.

Shit. Unfortunately—or fortunately, however you view it—that is your next stop on your route anyway.

“What jobs?” you ask then.

He chuckles, a little embarrassed this time, while he simultaneously scratches the back of his head.

“Uhm… dancers.”

His voice is so quiet, almost inaudible, as if he’s hiding something.

“Dancers?”

“Well, yeah… more like… strippers but not exactly,” he replies with a shy smile.

“Yeah—no. I am not doing that,” you instantly shoot back.

Chan sighs again, looking up to the blue sky until his eyes meet yours.

“Well, either that or you have to spend additional days with me. The choice is yours.”

That fucking smirk.

He is already getting on your last nerve.

How the fuck are you supposed to survive this?

Maybe you should indeed drive a little with him—just for a few kilometres until you stop at a gas station and accidentally leave him there when he goes into the store to pay.

That sounds like a plan.

“Get in the car, then.”

🥝

You haven’t abandoned Chan yet as if he’s some dumb little puppy—although that isn’t far from reality, considering how he follows you everywhere and seems to constantly crave your attention.

The only hour of the day that he didn’t spend annoying the shit out of you was when you made a stop at the Hobbiton Movie Set to participate in a tour that he booked. He paid for your ticket since it was his idea and wish to join the journey but you would have rather had him save the money for the second car you need to buy.

However, it reminded you of your childhood—when Chan and you used to do Lord Of The Rings movie marathons. It had always been a tradition, an annual celebration, if you will. Until your paths separated.

You’ve spent a lot of time suppressing those thoughts, pushing away your guilty conscience that told you it was your fault how things ended. After all, you were the one who didn’t say goodbye. Something tells you this is why Chan has been teasing you since yesterday.

But in your opinion this isn’t the full story. Sure, you were the one to cut things off—or rather ghosted him—but he was the main responsible part of why your friendship started to crumble.

God, you were so dumb back then. Well, you were teenagers and they tend to be a little dense and stupid.

You keep wondering how things would be if the both of you would have been able to communicate.

But then again—you believe a little too much in destiny and it can’t be a coincidence that Chan and you met again. Twice. Just when you’re entering a new stage, when you’re finally at a point in your life that isn’t the most satisfying and happiest but you can say that you’re the truest form of yourself that you have ever been.

Maybe it’s meant to be.

However, you’re not ready yet to fully grasp that idea.

“Kiwi juice?”

Your head snaps towards Chan, who is sitting in the driver’s seat. You switched after the Hobbit adventure, currently on your way to the beach in Tauranga.

“Hm?”

He offers you the paper carton in his hands.

Fuck. Those pretty hands. You could get lost at the sight.

Pull yourself together, it’s getting embarrassing.

“You want some? It’s the brand from… when we were younger,” he says, taking a little pause in between the words.

He’s nostalgic, he can’t deny it.

Chan has been wondering if it can really be a coincidence that the both of you met again.

Twice within twelve hours.

“Oh, sure,” you say, reaching for the juice. Your hand brushes his for a second in the process and your heart skips a beat, synchronising with Chan’s a second later.

When his gaze switches back to the road ahead of him, yours stays fixated on his face. You think he doesn’t notice but he does. However, this time he holds back that teasing comment that is tingling his tongue.

Happiness erupts on your face, when you taste the kiwi juice again for the first time. They’ve always been your favourite fruit—of course—and it would be a lie if you said this didn’t have an impact on you for choosing New Zealand as your travel destination after graduation.

“Is good?”

You nod, smiling at Chan and he gives you the same expression. It feels so natural—you look back into those same beautiful brown eyes from five years ago.

A thin pink layer appears on his cheeks and Chan is fast to bring his attention back to the street.

You can’t hold back the enormous smirk that is decorating your face now.

The journey flies by, until you reach the campsite and search for a nice spot to stop the car. Just when he’s about to turn off the engine, no other song that Harry Styles’ Kiwi is playing again. The both of you chuckle, suddenly feeling some kind of connection again.

Oh, Lord. That is gonna be an interesting evening.

Especially, once you remember the job Chan mentioned.

“Wait–“ you say, when you have gotten dressed and join Chan again who is currently busy preparing some dinner.

“What is it? You don’t like pasta anymore?”

You take a closer look at the dish he is currently cooking, as the delicious scents start entering your nostrils. Nostalgia hits you like a fucking train on highspeed once more.

“I– I do, that’s not what I meant.” Sinking down on the seat next to Chan, you help him place down the plates and cutlery. “I am… I don’t think I can do this… dancing job. I know it’s unfair if only you are working, especially since you spent the most on this car but I just can’t–“

“Woah, slow down,” Chan says. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what has gotten into me earlier, I just wanted to… tease you, I guess. The club does hire dancers but you seriously don’t have to do this.”

“Okay,” you let out with a small voice and relief washing down your spine.

The pasta is finally ready and served. Chan’s cooking skills seem to have improved by at least ten levels since high school and you compliment him, causing the blush to come back to his cheeks again.

“Do you still want to come to the club with me, though?” he asks or rather offers.

You’re unsure. If you’re honest, you’re not in the mood right now for partying, you would rather have some introvert time and maybe you can get that once Chan leaves to work.

“I… I think I’m gonna lay down for a bit, I’m still tired from yesterday, the flight to Auckland was kinda exhausting.”

What a pity. He would have loved to have you there. Now that Chan has finally gained some confidence and feels the chemistry between the both of you come back to what it used to be—although so many things are still left unspoken—it would have been a great chance to at least build some trust again.

He kind of regrets annoying you in the beginning, pretending to be some douchebag although you deserved the initial teasing. But he rather wants to get closer to you all naturally and he does still believe that the both of you meeting is a sign. A fucking obvious neon sign.

It is ridiculous that after all these years, his feelings haven’t changed in the slightest for you.

He hopes that he won’t make that much money tonight so that you have to travel around together for a little longer.

“Sure. The club is straight this way, like two hundred meters, in case you change your mind.”

🥝

You did change your mind. A nap later and the clock hitting half past midnight, you decide to at least check out the venue. Getting ready takes you a little longer than expected but this can mainly be blamed on the way you packed your things in the huge bag.

You decide to go for a dark shirt combined with a skirt that has pockets—yes, pockets! Your favourite sneakers complete the look and transport you to the club. You follow the sandy path until you reach your destination.

Considering the night is already in full swing, it doesn’t take the employees long to check your ID and sell you a ticket. The venue is partly in the open—turning this into a party by the coast. A lot of people got rid of their initial outfit, deciding to stay in their swimwear. You’re glad you did the same, choosing a bikini over a bra and panties as if you already expected it.

The atmosphere is phenomenal—you’re glad you came here. You missed being at the beach. It’s where you belong. It’s where you truly feel at home.

A beautiful melody fills your surroundings, immediately pulling you closer to the bar that is located near the stage. You order a drink, before you head back into the crowd of people.

Chan—busy showing off his skills—spotted you right away. Even in a gallery filled with the most beautiful art pieces, he’d still be staring at you.

You catch him observing you, allowing your eyes to connect with his and he gives you a soft smile. It’s when your two drinks into the night, that you notice a shift in the situation.

Of course, you aren’t the only person having alcohol and some fun and it’s a club at a very touristy place after all. So, you shouldn’t be surprised that a lot of people, especially women, are approaching Chan, probably asking for certain songs, complimenting him, flirting with him.

It’s mainly groups that try to start a conversation with him, giggling along whenever he replies to one of their questions. That’s fine. You’re fine.

He's a DJ. He is at work and just doing his job, maybe hoping to get tipped or something.

It’s alright. Really. Until those groups turn into individual women that gather up enough courage to talk to him alone. The conversations—despite the insane noise—become longer and he gets closer to them.

An hour passes and another hour follows, filled with girl after girl flirting with your former best friend.

Another one approaches him. She’s even more beautiful looking than the previous one and your stomach turns when you realise she looks a little like Maya.

It’s not her—without a doubt. But when you see the smile on Chan’s face and how he leans closer to her to catch what song she’s suggesting, you know he must have a type.

That type being quite the opposite of you. 

You try to not read too much into his mimics, concentrating on the sound of the music roaming around and the taste of the alcohol on the tip of your tongue instead. 

Then you see him reach for her phone, definitely typing down his number.

That’s it. You’ve had enough.

Why the fuck did you have to meet him again?

Why the fuck is he flirting with all these women?

Why the fuck is he flirting with you too?

And most importantly—why are you jealous?

You spin around on your feet, storming towards the bar. With your back turned to Chan, you don’t see the enormous smirk he has on his face once again. He’s not oblivious—he noticed you staring at him for literal hours and he would be lying if the very obvious jealousy that you are carrying isn’t the main reason for his flirting in the first place.

He enjoys seeing you like this. Chan would have never believed to be such a tease with someone but you seem to provoke a side of him that has been slumbering inside him, waiting to be woken up.

The women that approach him from now on finally become transparent—it’s not as if he’s seriously been interested in any of them, flirting is sometimes part of his job and you shouldn’t read too much into it. However, Chan will use whatever to his advantage when it comes to getting a reaction out of you.

In the meantime, you order a vodka shot at the bar, downing it in one go before you immediately get another one. And another one. In this angle, Chan can’t tell what and how much you’re drinking but when he sees you come back, dangerously confident, heading towards the dancing stage, he knows it’s more than you’re possibly able to handle.

There are other guests on the stage as well, having some fun, letting out their inner desires, getting loose. The paid dancers are somewhere else but it’s still ironic that you’re becoming the spotlight of the whole club now—after being all shy with dancing.

Chan is a bit worried, if that’s really what you want to do or just the alcohol speaking. But you seem to feel comfortable and you really enjoy what you’re doing, you can’t deny that. He still keeps an eye on you—both for caring but also absolutely selfish reasons.

It’s alluring, how you sway your hips to the melody of the songs he’s playing, how your body moves to the beat so perfectly. Chan knows you’ve always been into dancing and music but unfortunately were too insecure to show it.

You’re having the time of your life, you really are.

Until you feel that last shot kicking in, realising it was one too many.

Leaving the stage, you sit down on some sofa for a bit, feeling your head spin like a carousel. When Chan has chosen the following song and switches his gaze back to the dancers, he can’t find you anymore. Hastily, his eyes roam through the club and he feels his chest tighten in anxiety. Possibly, you just went to the bathroom but you are also extremely intoxicated.

Searching for a nearby colleague, he informs them that there is an emergency that he has to take care of. Not quite pleased, the person tells him that if he leaves now, he will be fired from the job.

But Chan doesn’t care. All he cares about is you and your well-being. 

He knows you enough to know that you tend to underestimate the effect alcohol has on your body, at least it’s been like this when you were teenagers. Leaving his own stage, he starts searching for you.

You’re not sitting on the sofa anymore. A kind girl gave you a bottle of tap water and offered to comfort you, however, your emotions washed over you, making you rush towards the beach. She follows you, wanting to know you’re okay.

That’s where Chan finds you, lying in the sand, absolutely shit-faced. The girl next to you immediately senses him approaching you and enters defending mode.

“Who are you?”

He realises now how weird the situation for her must be. He’s a man she hasn’t seen with you before, so of course, hesitation is the right option.

“I’m her friend, just wanted to make sure she’s okay,” he explains.

Chan feels awful for not grasping it sooner. Sure, it was comforting seeing you have fun but he underestimated it. But then again—how was he supposed to help you while being at work?

He’s here now. That’s what counts.

“You really think I would believe that, hm? Any guy could just say that, you better leave her alone,” the girl says, severely annoyed by Chan and worried about you.

“Yeji… it’s good,” you tell her, “I know him. We are on vacation together, we’re childhood friends.”

She lets out a relieved sigh, giving Chan a small smile and telling him to sit down next to you as well.

Unfortunately, in your drunken state you don’t notice him getting closer because, if you did, you wouldn’t say those following words at such a high volume, when you lean towards Yeji.

“I have a huuuge crush on him but he doesn’t seem to notice.”

Chan’s heart stops beating.

What?

This can’t be. His pulse is running at the speed of light and he feels himself getting dizzy now, despite not having even a single drop of alcohol in his system.

“Okay, so you’re good?” Yeji asks.

You nod and pull her into a hug.

“You’ve got my number, just in case, okay?” she says, before saying goodbye and leaving you alone with your friend.

Chan makes sure you drink the rest of the water until the bottle is empty, as he watches the shimmer of the night sky reflect in your eyes.

“Y/N,” he begins.

“Huh?”

You look at him with big eyes, almost like a deer that stops in the middle of the street when a car approaches the animal.

“Let’s go back,” he says, getting up from the ground. Chan offers you his hand and helps you stand on your feet again. You’re stumbling a little but he makes sure to help you gain back your balance, holding your figure.

“Dancing? Sure, but my head it– spin-spinning and–“

“No, to the van,” he says.

You pout, letting your shoulders sink.

“But I wanna daaance, pleeeaaase…”

Chan seems frustrated.

“Party’s over, come on.”

His fingers wrap around your wrist, dragging you after him, as he guides you towards the campsite.

“You’re so mean!”

Chan sighs, deciding to not pay too much attention to your childish behaviour. After all, you’re pretty drunk and he’s glad you’re fine. Going back to the club is the worst idea.

First, you’re not in the right state of mind to be dancing again. Let alone drink something.

Second, the security will probably tell you to leave anyway, once they notice how intoxicated you are.

And third, it would be embarrassing for Chan to go back there, after he basically got fired.

“We’re gonna get you sober and ready for bed, yeah?”

You pout again, letting a whimper follow, as you obediently walk next to Chan.

“Okay, daddy,” you reply sarcastically.

He ignores your teasing now—and the way this dumb name makes him feel flustered—instead helping you brush your teeth which turns out to be a lot more complicated. You’re so absolutely stubborn and not able anymore to control your body and balance. However, he manages to take off the rest of your makeup and put your hair in a comfortable style for sleeping.

There’s one thing that’s still on the list. You can’t go to sleep with your outside-clothes.

“Pyjamas?” he asks you.

“In the backpack.”

Chan gets up from his seat, making you drink another glass of water, as he walks towards your bag. You’re carrying so much stuff with you that it seems impossible for him to find what he’s looking for. His fingers accidentally brush over a pile of panties, feeling the lace material against his skin. Your childhood friend is glad that the blush on his cheeks isn’t visible in the dim moonlight.

“I can’t find your sleepwear,” he says, giving up.

“Then I’m gonna just stay in my party outfit.”

“Oh, no,” he says, “you’re not wearing this worn stuff from outside on the mattress.”

You remember now. Chan has always been like this. When you used to visit him as a child, he made you change your “outside clothing” in case you wanted to sit or lie down on any type of furniture in his parents’ house. 

Your pants came in contact with the bus seats, that’s yikes, Y/N, he used to say. As a teenager you didn’t care but the older you got, the more you adapted to this philosophy.

“Fine,” you groan.

Chan decides to just grab something to wear from his backpack, it’ll do. He finds a nice oversized shirt and some boxers that he hands to you.

“I… you want me to wear your underwear?”

He sighs. Once again. “It’s clean, oh my God. Just change your clothes already.”

The curly haired turns around then out of respect, while you slip into the baggy fabrics.

“Done.”

“Good,” he says.

You crawl into the van, sinking down on the bed sheet, as you feel the weight of the mattress shift underneath you.

Chan gets ready for bed, too. In the meantime, you plug your phone to the power bank and send Yeji a quick text.

She answers within a few seconds.

[Yeji 04:57]: Sleep well, darling. Thanks for texting me. Goodnight 💕

It doesn’t take your phone long to receive another message from her.

[Yeji 04:58]: Also, get that man. He seems to like you back ;)

You chuckle, still way too tipsy to fully grasp what she says. How is she supposed to tell? She spent like three minutes with him and doesn’t even know you that well, either. Yeji is just a random but very kind girl you met while waiting in line in the bathroom.

Chan drags you out of your thoughts when he walks around the car, stopping in front of you to place his toothbrush back into his bag. He’s changed into some sweatpants, not bothering to wear a shirt to sleep.

Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s still swimming in your veins.

Maybe it’s the light of the lanterns tinting his naked chest in the prettiest glimmer.

Maybe it’s the pent up feelings and all those unspoken words.

Or it’s all of those things combined that make you speak the following words, “Can you… cuddle me to sleep, please?”

His head snaps up to you.

“Y/N… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m gonna sleep outside, okay?”

You’re the one to wrap their fingers around his wrist now, pulling him towards the van.

“Nooo, it’s too cold. You’re gonna get sick.” Chan can’t resist that annoying pout on your face. “Stay a little longer?”

He sighs, crawling into the van as well, as he takes the space next to the door.

“Okay.”

It doesn’t take you long to fall into a deep slumber, while Chan holds you close—you being the small spoon and him being the big one. Whereas you are already deeply occupied in your dreams, insomnia seems to take the best of him again.

He can’t believe he’s got you back in his life.

He can’t believe that you’re getting along again, especially compared to eighteen hours ago after buying the van.

He can’t believe you told your new friend that you have a crush on him.

If that’s really the truth that would mean… that would mean you have had that crush for some time, right? Considering you only met one and a half days ago, you must have already had feelings for him before that.

Fuck. Chan is possibly the luckiest guy on this earth. He dearly hopes this isn’t that dream he’s dreamt a thousand times before.

Just when he’s about to finally get some rest, too, you stir around and change positions, before your eyes open and in your half asleep state, you start speaking,  “You left, Channie…”

His own eyes widen, pulling you closer. Maybe you’ve got some of those nightmares again that you used to have when you guys were younger.

“But I’m here, darling,” he reassures you, using that nickname again for the first time.

“No,” you mumble, “you left and went to Seoul five years ago. You left me.”

His heart stops and then breaks into a thousand tiny pieces.

That might be true but you were the one to literally ghost your lifetime best friend.

“And you didn’t say goodbye, Y/N,” Chan spits back.

He can tell you’re not fully awake. Maybe that’s what gives him enough confidence to speak what’s on his mind. It feels so good to finally let that out.

God, he’s such a coward.

Your eyes open a little more, although you’re still not really awake.

“Is that why you’re mad at me? Why you were teasing me?” you ask him.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, “Yes.”

You roll onto your back, hiding your eyes behind the palms of your hands.

“Chan…”

He interrupts you, already regretting that he told you about his feelings, “Just forget it–“

“I couldn’t say goodbye…”

“Just… cut it–“

“My heart couldn’t handle it,” you say, “I was, well, I still am too much… too much in love with you to let you go.”

That’s when you doze off back into sleep.

It’s real. You’re real. Your feelings for him are real.

All these years. All the time waiting pays off—just for you to confess in your sleep. Well, better than nothing. Chan will see what the next day holds for you.

He knows you won’t hear him. However, he still speaks his words out loud, when he says, “I love you too, Y/N.”

🥝

You wake up around two in the afternoon the next day, feeling your pulse pumping inside your head.

Chugging down the rest that’s inside your metallic water bottle, you come to the realisation that you have no idea how you made it back to the van last night.

Speaking of—you find yourself alone in here, the space beside you still a little warm but that could also be caused by the sunbeams that are making their way inside the vehicle.

When you push the blanket away, you observe yourself in clothes that aren’t yours. Looking down at the bottoms, you notice you’re wearing boxers, probably Chan’s.

Why are you wearing his clothes? You guys weren’t so drunk that you… no, Chan wouldn’t do something like that.

However, you were indeed drunk. That is a fact. Otherwise you wouldn’t have a mental blackout about yesterday’s night.

“Morning,” Chan says, appearing in front of the van’s door. “I made some tea for you.” He hands you the beverage, painfully obviously trying to avoid your gaze.

What the hell happened?

“How are you?” 

Chan takes a seat beside you, leaving respectful space between the both of you.

“I’ve been better before. I feel very tired and sore. I also don’t remember much… my mind is blank after… getting up that stage– oh God, I probably embarrassed myself and–“

“You didn’t,” he reassures you. “You were the life of the party.”

You roll your eyes, “That sounds even worse.”

He chuckles and you join him. It feels good and so familiar to be with him.

Chan feels like comfort. He feels like home.

“Do you feel good enough to go on a two and a half hour trip to Cathedral Cove?”

Wow. Your plans once again seem to match.

“That was my next stop on my route, too,” you tell him with a smile.

“I know. I saw the little sheet of paper you pinned to your backpack. Sorry, I hope it’s okay I read–“

“Of course,” you say.

“Then, take your time to get ready. I have a job again at a club tonight but only for the first few hours.”

After taking a shower—a cold one again—in the public bathroom of the campsite and changing into some comfortable shorts and a baggy shirt, you head back to the van. Chan hands you a bowl, filled with your comfort breakfast.

“You made porridge?”

He nods, “Yeah. We didn’t have fresh fruits and the little market over there was already closed, so I used canned tangarines. It tastes good, though.”

And it really does. The citrus fruits and sugar give you a lot of energy and fight against your hangover, the oats fill your stomach and awaken you.

“Did you make enough money yesterday?” you ask Chan, once you’re done with eating and washing the dishes, before packing everything.

“About that,” he starts, scratching the back of his head.

“What happened?”

“They kinda fired me… because I took a break to look if you were alright,” he explains.

Shit. That’s all your fault. You feel like a helpless child that he has to look after. The fact you drank so much because of your jealousy, lets your guilty conscience wash all over you.

“Chan, I– fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have drunk that much I am so dumb–“

“Hey, it’s fine,” he says. “I don’t care. I don’t want money from a company like this, anyway.”

He waits until you give him a little nod. Chan hovers your backpacks into the trunk again, before you take the passenger’s seat.

The door to your right opens, as Chan sinks down next to you, starting the engine.

“Shall we?”

🥝

You got a little more sleep while Chan drove the two of you to the new destination. Dinner was on you tonight—your speciality, instant ramen, homemade by you. Maybe not the most nutritious meal, but a good and greasy base for possibly drinking alcohol again.

However, when entering the venue—well, it’s really just four neon lanters creating a makeshift square at the beach—you decide to ditch the drinks tonight, instead going for lemonade and water. Once again, Chan isn’t drinking either, knowing he is more focused on his work when he’s sober.

His talent is insane. He even makes you enjoy songs that you don’t like at all, solely by the remix versions he creates. You’ve always known that he’s a virtuoso. 

You’re feeling freedom rush through your veins, letting go of all the worries, as you dance along to the beautiful music.

Until you take a look at Chan and once again find a group of women surrounding him.

That’s when it clicks.

You got drunk yesterday, after watching the exact same scene that is turning into a déja-vu now. He flirted with them and as immature as you were, you decided to drown your jealousy in vodka.

Yeji, the kind girl from the bathroom, comes back to your mind. How she took care of you until Chan was–

Oh, no. 

You also remember now how he got you ready for bed—which explains the shirt and boxers—and how you begged him to cuddle you to sleep.

There’s another distant memory in the back of your head that you can’t quite grasp yet. You can’t differentiate if it was a dream or not, but something tells you, you poured your heart out to Chan and accused him of leaving.

You don’t remember your exact words. You do remember, though, how you told Yeji about your crush on Chan, while he was literally next to you.

Fuck. You’re so embarrassing. This year’s world wide loser award goes to none other than Y/N Y/L/N.

“Fancy a drink?”

The male voice startles you at first, however, you still turn around to search for its owner. In front of you is standing a beautiful man, a bit taller, his long black hair almost reaches his shoulders.

You said you didn’t want to drink. You want to be mature. But when you catch a glimpse of a girl whispering something into Chan’s ear, you know you’ve had enough. He doesn’t like you back, give up already. You confessed having a crush on him and he doesn’t do anything about it, time to live your life and show Chan what he is missing.

“Hm, one drink won’t do much harm,” you tell the guy.

He pays for the beverage and every water and lemonade you order after. It’s fun spending time with him. He’s without a doubt the best dancer you’ve ever seen, encouraging you in your own moves.

You didn’t get his name when he introduced himself due to the noise inside—you don’t know if he’s called Hyunjin or Hyungmin but it doesn’t really matter anyway. He’ll help you get your mind off all the mess nonetheless.

He’s dancing behind you, his crotch pressed against your ass, only a few layers of fabric separating you from him. His lips land on your neck, destined to draw a pretty pattern on your skin.

The clock hits two. Chan’s shift is over.

And you can be sure he will waste no time to do what he’s wanted to do since that prick laid his hands on your hips.

A minute later, Hyunjin feels someone touching his shoulder, making him pull away a little from you.

“Sorry, but the party’s over.”

Why is Chan always ruining the fun? You aren’t even tipsy. What’s his fucking problem?

“What do you want, dude?” Hyunjin says, clearly annoyed.

You stay in his hold, but your gaze finds Chan’s.

“I want you to let go of my girl and piss off, to be honest,” he answers, clicking his tongue.

What?

Your head starts spinning like yesterday, but this time you’re drunk on emotions.

“Man– I didn’t know–“

Hyunjin doesn’t get to finish his sentence, when Chan is already dragging you out of the club and towards the empty campsite.

The curly haired doesn’t say a word, but the tense atmosphere fills the whole beach even until you get closer and closer to your car.

Chan is furious. Sure, those girls talked to him as well, flirted a little but that’s what all there was. But when he saw Hyunjin’s lips on your neck, that straw broke the camel’s back.

Meanwhile, you feel like you’re in trance. You’re obediently following him just until Chan spins you around and watches your back meet the side of the green car.

He cages you between his firm body and the vehicle. The sight makes your knees go weak, makes you lose even the last molecule of sanity. You know you won’t have to say much, it’s obvious what it is.

Maybe it’s the fact you’re thinking clearly, no alcohol in your system this time.

Maybe it’s the way the moonlight covers Chan’s muscular arms and how the stars reflect in those beautiful brown eyes.

Maybe it’s the pent up feelings and all those unspoken words.

Or it’s all of those things combined that make you speak the following words.

“Just kiss me already.”

Chan may be an idiot from time to time, but he won’t let this chance slip. His lips smash into yours, making time stand still, letting the earth and the whole fucking universe stop for a minute.

Every cell in your body wants him. 

And you show him exactly that, when you invite his tongue in to explore the insides of your mouth. Your heartbeat starts echoing in your ears and a moment later, it synchronises with Chan’s.

His hands find their way to your hips, wandering a little further until they meet your ass. He squeezes the soft flesh through the fabric of your skirt, listening to the beautiful moan you let out.

It’s only now that you get aware that you put on the metallic necklace tonight—your friendship accessory that connects you, literally, with Chan. You wanted to get some reaction out of him. But he doesn’t seem to have noticed yet.

He’s too busy placing one kiss after another on your lips anyway, until he decides to change the course and wanders down with his artwork. Your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, back to your lips, right in that order. He wants to make sure that every centimetre Hyunjin touched, will be drawn over.

He’s driving you insane. You already feel yourself getting absolutely lightheaded. Maybe that’s how you justify that next whimper that spills from your lips, when his hand travels between your legs. He wonders if you put on a skirt on purpose but, nevertheless, this will make his mission a lot easier.

“Chan– stop teasing–“ you let out, knowing you won’t be able to withstand any anticipation.

But Chan isn’t done yet with provoking you. Not after you danced with that guy in the club, not after you let him kiss you like that.

“Don’t complain too much or I’ll fuck you against the van, here outside, for everyone to see.”

Oh, God. In the state you're in, you’d probably even allow him that. However, after falling asleep in his arms on the bed inside the van, you should finish what you’ve started exactly there.

And Chan seems to read your mind, as it seems.

“Get your pretty ass on the mattress, doll.”

But you decide to change plans a little, for the sole reason to tease him now. Beating him with his own weapons sounds like the most entertaining thing you can imagine.

Your lips land on his neck, rough bites leaving an astonishing memory of tonight. Chan’s the one to let out a moan now, as he feels his boxers tighten, his growing erection brushing against the fabric.

But he won’t let you defeat him so easily.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns you. Chan catches your face, squishing your cheeks together in an attempt to make you look at him, which you immediately do.

“I’ve had enough of your behaviour.”

His other hand is back between your thighs, disappearing under your skirt, wandering up to your very much soaked panties. Of course, he has to chuckle out loud, when the tips of his fingers brush over that embarrassingly wet spot.

“For me, baby?”

But you won’t let him defeat you so easily.

Chan finds it hilarious that you’re getting shy now but your body speaks what your mouth doesn’t want to—especially, once he carefully pushes the laces aside, grazing over your wetness.

“Fuck– please–“ you let out.

Well, it seems as if you let him defeat you easily. But you don’t care.

“Get inside, doll.”

He yanks the door of the car open, making you crawl inside.

And he wouldn’t be Chan if he didn’t tell you to take off the skirt before sitting down on the bed sheets. After all, you’re wearing outside clothes. Or maybe it’s just a cheap trick. However, when he takes off his jeans as well, leaving him in his underwear and the view of the pretty outline of his hard dick, you giggle a little.

When lying down on the soft cushion, the pendant that’s attached to the chain somehow wanders underneath your shirt, hiding it from Chan completely. But you don’t even notice. Not when the man above you is ready to devour you like a five star meal.

“Maybe I should fuck the brat out of you, make you come to your senses again,” he says, making you scoot a little more upwards.

He places your legs over his shoulders, before he starts kissing the inner sides of your thighs, gradually wandering towards your clothed core. A long stripe meets your panties, as you desperately hold back another moan.

“You’re all talk but no doing, Chan,” you let out.

He just chuckles and wastes no time to pull down your underwear, getting right back to his task. 

“Weird way of begging, but if that’s what you’re asking for…”

As if you’re on autopilot, you spread your legs even further, allowing your friend better access. His tongue comes back into play, as his fingers help him push your pussy lips apart.

Then your mind turns off.

“I– Fuck–“

It feels like heaven. The kitten licks. The vibrations his moans send through your whole body. His fingertips that circle around your throbbing hole.

Chan pushes two digits in at once, adoring the little whimper you let out. Your walls immediately clench around him, sucking him in, telling him how much you missed him.

It’s embarrassing how close you already are. But you’ve lost track of time—you can’t tell if it’s been seconds, minutes or hours that Chan’s head has been between your thighs.

You’ve never been with a guy that enjoys eating pussy that much. How you regret not doing this sooner with him…

“Chan– I–“

He just hums against you, enjoying every bit of your helplessness. You should have done this sooner. How he regrets not confessing to you earlier…

Squelching sounds are filling the car and in the back of your head you’re quite glad that Chan remembered to close and lock the door. His fingers already feel so absolutely amazing inside you, you wonder how great his cock is gonna fill you.

You get a taste of the idea, when he once again swirls his tongue around your clit and changes the angle of his fingers a little. He’s knuckles deep inside your aching hole, now hitting that certain spot just right.

Just a little later, your mind goes completely blank, the sight of the darkness inside Chan’s eyes hidden, when the white sparkles fill your vision instead. The feeling takes over your whole body, legs shaking, when you reach that sweet relief. You cry out his name, forgetting any other syllable you’ve ever known. Almost struggling to catch your breath, Chan helps you ride out your high.

Painfully slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you, watching you squirm at the loss of contact. He licks his fingers clean, making sure to let his eyes stay on your own.

You feel hypnotised.

You feel drunk.

“Hmm, still so confident that you don’t like me back, huh?” he teases you.

Like him back?

Well, you aren’t surprised he must at least find you attractive. Otherwise, Chan probably wouldn’t have eaten you out like a starving man. But you weren’t aware that there are feelings that are thrown into the mix.

“Like you back?”

“Don’t you remember what you said last night?”

Is this about the confession while Yeji was with you or did you…

Oh, the memories are slowly coming back now. You said something to him after accusing him of leaving, after pouring your heart out to him.

Did you, perhaps, tell him more?

“W-What?”

“Right before you fell asleep you confessed that you have romantic feelings for me, honey,” he says, shamelessly clicking his tongue.

“I…” 

You don’t know what to say, so the logical solution is to catch his lips in a heated kiss instead. You pull him closer, tasting yourself on his tongue but you don’t mind. He gives in for a solid minute, until he stops, knowing he has to speak further first.

“I told you before—well, you were asleep—but I return the feelings.”

You gasp. It’s now or never. There’s no reason to hold back anymore.

“Channie… I’m in love with you, have been all this time.”

There appears the brightest smile his face has ever experienced.

“I’m in love with you… have been even before that first kiss together,” he admits.

“You… what?”

Even in the weak light of the LED lanterns, you can still make out that cute pink curtain on his cheeks.

“I was scared… so I decided to hide my feelings but I’m done with hiding now.”

He kisses you then and you give in completely.

Fuck. You can’t believe this is happening.

He loves you back? He’s loved you all this time? You’re so happy that you don’t even care that it took you seven years to realise. 

Your childhood friend turned lover stops the kiss for a second, as he gets back in a seating position. Chan suddenly takes off his tank top, revealing his stunning chest to you.

As well as something else.

The necklace.

He’s wearing it.

That’s what makes you take off your shirt and your bra, too, revealing the metallic chain and pendant to him.

“You’re wearing the necklace?”

“I thought you would have noticed sooner.”

And he kisses you again, enjoying how beautiful you look underneath him, until a clicking sound startles you.

The magnets inside the pendants make the necklaces connect. You’ve expected them to not work anymore after storing the chain wherever for over five years.

“Fuck, I love you so much. I’m gonna show you, baby.”

And, oh God, that’s exactly what he does. His fingers are right between your legs again, playing sensually with your clit, as his tongue is attached to your tits, making out with one of the hardened buds.

But you need more and you need it now.

“Channie?”

He looks up for a second, “Yeah?”

“I need you… need you inside me.”

Chan wastes no time and takes off his remaining clothes, as you watch his length spring free. He’s pretty—maybe a bit above average but the girth is what basically makes you drool at the sight. The tip is already covered in precum, telling you to not wait any longer.

You ask him to come closer, but Chan still has something on his mind.

“I– I don’t have a condom with me right now… it’s in the trunk in my backpack but I can–“

“I have an IUD. If that’s okay with you,” you offer.

“Of course, dear.”

He’s positioning himself between your legs again, reaching for his length and stroking it a few times. Chan could get lost in the look you have on your face—desperately waiting for him to bury his cock inside you. Your fingers wander down to your heat, playing a little with your clit and that’s when he knows he won’t have you wait any longer.

The tip circles around your wet entrance, before he pushes only a few centimetres in first, watching you get used to the feeling. When you nod, he enters further, until he bottoms you out completely. You’re more than glad that he prepared you so well earlier.

After a quick kiss on your lips, he starts thrusting into you, observing every move and noise you make. You’re getting completely lost in the sensation, allowing him to take care of your body.

It doesn’t take long for the windows inside the car to gain a foggy layer from all the panting. Chan positions your legs over shoulders, similar to how he did earlier, as his hand wanders towards your chest.

He squeezes one of your breasts for a little, before his fingers travel further, circling around your throat, adding pressure to the sides. What a beautiful view—he’s dreamt about this so many times. Having you underneath him. Having full control over you and your body.

“Channie– fuck–“ you let out.

His cock is brushing that spot inside you again, it’s as if he’s fucked you a thousand times before.

And you feel so deliciously warm and tight around him, Chan for sure can’t get enough of your cunt.

He has to make sure you remember this. Even now that you’re finally his, he wants to hear those words coming from you.

“Who do you belong to, hm?” 

Fuck. That possessive side is something you sure can’t get enough of.

“I– fuck–“

Chan’s initial idea was to make pure love to you, although he sensed you enjoy him being less gentle, as well. So, the roughness takes over him then. Passion and desire are marking his words.

“Say it, baby. Whose good little slut are you?”

Slap. His hand collides with your ass, when you don’t answer within a second.

“Y-Yours, Channie– yours,” you then immediately let out. You could get used to this side of him.

“Good girl.”

It happens in the blink of an eye, it was inevitable. Waves of pleasure are traveling through your body, conquering your whole existence. Chan holds you close, helping you through the overstimulating sensation of your second orgasm.

After you’ve begged him to cum inside, he then paints your walls, all with the prettiest whimper spilling from his plump lips. 

The necklaces stay connected throughout the entire unholy scene, reminding you that this was indeed meant to be.

Once you’ve both come down from your high, Chan pulls out of you. He watches the mixture of his liquids spill out of your hole, before he brings two fingers right there, scooping up some of the droplets and guiding them towards your mouth.

You obediently lick them clean, before he places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

He takes a deep breath, “I’ve always wanted to be your first, to be honest.”

“Yeah… me, too,” you confess.

“But that doesn’t matter.” Another kiss on your forehead. “‘Cause I’ll be your last.”

💚AUTHOR'S NOTE: *taps on mic* is this thing on? yeah, hi I'm back. This fic had been chilling in my drafts half-chilling for the past few months and I am a dramatic libra so that's the first thing I post. I hope you guys have been well and enjoying your summer (or winter for my beloveds who live on the southern hemisphere and yes I know it's ironic I post a New Zealand summer story in August pls don't cancel me). I hope you enjoyed this one, I feel a bit insecure this time, if I'm completely honest with you. Please consider reblogging and/or commenting, if you want to give something back to the author! Messages via asks are fine, too. Lots of love and take care!

© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

picturing Chan and y/n just finished a round and him sitting on the bed, her coming behind him and running her hands through his arms and chest asking for another round, Chan going “guess I didn’t fuck you good enough, uh?” 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫

in which you beg chris for a round two

╰┈➤ bang chan x f. reader

╰┈➤ tags/warnings: fuck buddy!chris, idol!chris, dom!chris, unprotected sex, headlock position, spanking/slapping, name calling (slut, bitch), degradation, squirting

╰┈➤ word count: 1.2k

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

“you’re a fucking animal, christopher.”

the drop-dead gorgeous man, who happens to be your fuck buddy, laughs as he presses kisses all over your face.

“because you make me be one, sweetheart.”

chris stands up from his bed, leaving you to cover your upper body up in his sheets as he proceeds to the bathroom. all the while he was away, you take a deep breath. you can’t help but bite your lip and smirk as you look up to the ceiling, sighing in pleasure from such great sex. you thank the heavens for meeting chris because no other man can ever pleasure you as he does. it was as if he was the only one who knew all your secrets and kinks deep down without having you tell him. he just knew how your body works, as if a mechanic troubleshooting the sexual frustrations out of you.

chris comes back with a towel around his hips and phone in hand. you keep your eyes on him as he sits next to you on the edge of the bed, his broad and muscular back facing you.

“you have to be somewhere, chris?”

he hums, fast fingers messaging some people, “in a little while. need to go back to the studio later this evening.”

his ears perk up when he faintly hears you huff. he looks up and stares at the wall in front of him for a second with a grin. chuckling, he turns his head to the side and looks at you, “you don’t want me to go, huh?”

you giggle, poking your tongue against your cheek. you wanted to let out a whimper just from his hot, intense stare. some of his curls were faintly covering the top of his eyes, dimples showing. how can this man look cute yet hot at the same time?

“no, not really,” you whisper, your eyes wandering down to his shoulders, back, and biceps, which looked like they were constantly flexing. unknowingly, you lick your lips as you feel your core tighten around nothing. “need you again…”

“well, too bad, baby girl,” chris mutters, his hand coming up to caress your cheek before landing a sharp slap unexpectedly. your eyes widen from the sudden impact before a whine leaves your lips. “too bad our time’s up.”

after that, he focuses his attention back on his phone and types away again with a smirk.

but that didn’t sit right with you. that slap to your cheek ignites that oh-so-sweet, hot feeling down there. you push the blanket off your chest and kneel behind him. chris can hear the shuffling of sheets and is about to scold you, but you surprise him by wrapping your arms around his neck.

“please,” you whisper directly in his right ear, earning a shudder from him. “i want to feel you again, chris. i can’t get enough of you, baby. c’mon,” you let your warm hands wander his broad shoulders, before letting them go down to his chest. chris bites his plump lower lips from the feeling of your tiny hands on his chest, evidently groping his muscles. you knew that he was sensitive there, and it didn’t help that he just worked out earlier this morning.

“y-you needy little thing, ugh,” chris groans, grabbing your wrist in one of his hands to stop you, “haven’t i fucked you good enough, huh?”

you whine at that, shaking your head even though he can’t see you.

“come here, slut. over my knee, that’s right.” chris manhandles you across his lap. he doesn’t wait any further to spank your bare ass until you become a whining, withering mess beneath him. you can feel his cock growing hard against the confines of the towel, and the thought of having his big cock sheathed inside you made your pussy wetter.

“greedy, greedy slut,” he mumbles, slapping your ass with each word he utters. “can’t fucking get enough of dick.”

using his other hand, he grabs your hair roughly so that your head tilts up to meet his gaze. he raises his eyebrows at you, instantly making you feel submissive as you do, “are you proud, huh? proud that you can get me so easily, doll?”

you can’t stop yourself from squirming, a smile creeping up your lips as you feel satisfied with his reaction. “you know you like it too,” you reply cheekily.

chris clicks his tongue and roughly tugs your hair to force you up to the bed again. you slightly wince from the stinging pain in your scalp, but all that flies over your head when chris instructs you to lay flat on your stomach.

not wanting to take this chance for granted, you quickly obey. chris then throws the towel down to the floor, and his cock stands up proudly, long and hard. he straddles the back of your thighs while you feel his large hands squeezing your bruised hips.

“channie, please,” you wiggle your ass, hoping he’d get the memo, “fuck me more.”

“yeah?” he slaps your ass cheeks again, making you cry on the pillows, “my cock-hungry little brat wants more, mhm? look at you wiggling this perfect ass, fuck. admit that you’re addicted to my cock, and i’ll make you cum again.”

“c-chris, i’m addi—“ he doesn’t even let you finish before he’s talking dirty to you again, “admit that you want to be filled with cum every fucking day. yeah?” he aligns the tip of his dick against your dripping entrance. chris continues to babble, “this pussy’s so greedy, holy shit, look at it soaked and ready to be filled. want me to put my cock deep inside you?”

“yes! yes, yes, yes, chris! fuck… j-just fuck me!”

chris’ eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your tight walls wrap around his girth for the second time today. you let out a long, loud whimper, making his cock throb which urges him to pound into you hard and fast.

“bad fucking bitch,” he grunts, “always wanting idols’ dick.”

“o-only yours,” you moan, hands gripping the sheets as his balls slap against your cunt. “i only want — shiiit — your dick, chris!”

he laughs menacingly at your desperation, “‘course you do,” he smirks before his left arm wraps under your neck, putting you in a slight headlock. “bitches like you aren’t satisfied with just one round, yeah?” you immediately feel your pussy gush so much wetness just from the position he had you in, your mind blank, and your neck constricting against his muscular biceps.

“mm, you like that?” his unoccupied hand sneaks beneath your body to rub your sensitive clit in fast circles, causing your entire system to quiver uncontrollably beneath his heavy body. “can’t breathe properly, hm? yeah, be my little fuckdoll, baby. you don’t need to breathe or think when i’m fucking the living shit out of you.”

you were on the brink of cumming, so close to falling apart. as you are about to warn chris of your orgasm, he brings up the hand that was once on your clit and forces his wet fingers inside your mouth. you practically squeal from how hot it is, letting you taste yourself off of his slender digits. he pushes his fingers more profoundly, and the moment your throat closes around his fingers, gagging, you squirt all over his bare cock.

“ohh my god,” chris groans loudly as your muffled screams also push him to climax. you soak not only his dick but his thighs, and the sheets beneath you have a pool of your juices. “gonna fill you up, doll,” he growls against your ear, his thrusts getting sloppy, “fill you up to the brim ‘till your pussy can’t take no more of my cum.”

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

[m.list | ko-fi]