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onewmin · 11 months

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the perfume on the shelf. pt. 6 | bangchan

Pairings: Bang Chan x Fem!reader, Kim Yugyeom x Fem!reader

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was never a part of the plan. So you end it up. But does he want to put a stop to it, too?

Warnings: AU, Smut (minors dni), it’s not specified but the seggs is protected, a lot of kissing, oral (f. receiving), profanity, angst, a brief mention of self-harm, the reader and everybody else is mentally unstable (who isn’t right), mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of smoking, Lee Know flirts with a girl, another shitty cliffhanger in the end, typos

Author’s note: originally, this part was planned to be longer and cover the period after the ending, but I felt like it would’ve been too much. It’s not as long as I wanted it to be and maybe not that heartbreaking, but the pain still awaits you later hehe hope you enjoy the chapter!! Let me know what you think!!

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

Part 5 | Part 7

Despite Chan’s constant doubts and destructive thoughts about you still being in love with Yugyeom, that was far from the truth.

Yugyeom was a lingering memory, a bright sun ray that shone to you many years ago. Now he was just there, in the past, while Chan himself had occupied the pedestal inside your heart.

However, you really wanted him to fall down from it this time.

It’d been three weeks since he pushed you off the cliff of love and hope, leaving you to an inevitable, gruesome fall. You fell down from the highest peak into the lowest pit, and there was nothing. Just darkness and loneliness. Although the latter was not for long.

A couple of days after Chris broke up with you, Minho showed up at your door, bottles of beer in his backpack. You got drunk while watching another stupid reality show and ended up crying on the floor, the two of you sobbing in unison.

“He said to me”, Lee Know hiccuped, wiping the tears from his cheeks, “he said, ‘You’re an asshole, Minho’”, his imitation of Chan’s voice was so on spot, you let out a half-laugh through your tears.

“I’m an asshole? For putting up with his terrible dancing and constant nagging that his feet hurt?” Minho was hitting his chest with the fist, the two of you now sitting on the couch. “For sticking with him when his first album flopped? For investing my time, my life in his fucking career?”

You were nodding frantically, chewing the chips, the cheese taste mixing up with salty aftermath of the tears, streaming down your face.

“Never have I ever been an ass to him! Ever!” The tone of his voice rose, cracking when he started sobbing again. “And now he basically fires me! Me! His best friend!”

“No fucking reason”, Minho was lying on the floor again, with you sitting next to him. “Just this sudden bullshit. Why would he do this to me? To you? To us?”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking another sip of beer from another bottle. Was it your third? Fourth one?

“I can’t understand what’s inside his head”, he sighed. “Is it the concussion speaking for him or was he like that the entire time?”

You took a deep breath and exhaled in response. Weeks spent crying and drinking with Minho at both yours and his places, talking shit about Chan and how unfairly he treated the both of you. And neither you, nor Minho had come to any sort of common conclusion. He stood his ground, stomping his feet drunkenly, his words slurring, saying Chris might’ve hit his head so bad that all of the common sense flew out of the window.

You noticed a slightly hilarious pattern: Minho was ready to come up with any bizarre theory in order to excuse Chan’s behaviour. He pushed the both of you away because of the concussion, Lee Know was confident that was the truth. You, however, couldn’t agree with him.

The more you drank after work, the more you threw up afterwards, sitting on the dirty tile floor of whatever bar you were in, the less you could excuse Chris. Sure, he suffered from the aftermath of the accident, this you could understand. But his sudden change of demeanor? Beyond your comprehension. No therapist in the world could’ve explained this to you. Yours included.

“Don’t you think this is a sign you’ve been waiting for? The sign to leave this guy and move on with you life?”

Ah, crap. Could this woman not memorize everything you say? “I don’t think so”.

“Why’s that?”

“Because, I think, he’s just hurt. And he’s trying to push everyone away so that… So that we don’t see him… like this”.

Oh wait, was it your savior complex hitting up again? How mysteriously hurt poor Chan must have been! Pushed everyone away, humiliated his best friends in their own eyes, and told you he lost interest the second his love stopped being unrequited! Poor Chan! How must he suffer!

Oh yeah, he must. Sitting at another bar, Minho’s drunken ranting as the background music, you wished with all your heart Chan was suffering. He put you through so much, making you love him, care for him, and then he made you hate him. To be honest, though, “hate” was a strong word to use; hating him was still impossible. You despised the man he turned out to be, even if he lied to you about ‘falling out of love’ for some reason.

“What fuckin’ reason there has to be to say that shit? What’s the fuckin’ fuck?”

The look on your therapist’s face gave away her genuine surprise at your sudden loss of composure. In over than two years of therapy, you had never even cried during sessions. You’d curse, get slightly angry, but never too emotional. You called this an ‘emotional constipation’, just to make your therapist crack a smile. A clown is always a clown, you’d say, taking pride in getting her to laugh. Although the fun would always wash away when she immediately started writing stuff down.

“Go on”.

Two simple words would bring you to the literal edge of glory: you jumped from your seat, aggressively walking from one corner of the room to another, curse words spilling from your mouth; also, of course, you blamed god for everything — if you could, you’d include your religious trauma in every conversation possible.

“If God was real”, you’d keep on, “would he ever allow Chan in my life? Would he ever let that happen?”

“Did God choose to be in a relationship with Chan, or was it you?”

How dare she? “How dare you?” You stood up, snatching your bag from the floor. “Am I the bad guy here?”

“No”, she said softly, not even moving a muscle during your tantrum, “you’re not, but you desperately want someone to be the bad guy. You cannot paint Chan as a villain because you love him”, you huffed at her words, “but you don’t love the God. So in this case, the latter has to be the bad guy. Correct me, if I’m wrong”.

She was not indeed wrong. But you were resisting therapy: if not, you’d have to face the truth — there were no bad guys. Everyone was just human, making human mistakes. The ones you’d been constantly making while choosing to stay in this relationship with Chan over and over again.

Like him fixing your dinner three months in a row after he came back from tour. Or him helping you take showers when your leg was broken. Or taking care of your cat when you went to see your parents.

He was doing basic shit! Basic shit every decent human being would do when their close friend needed that! Although it’s pretty hard not to praise men when they do the bare minimum, right? ‘Cause it’s so rare. Rare for you specifically, as every man in your life — apart from Yugyeom and Chan — was a self-centered piece of garbage.

And you could take Yugyeom for granted, as he wanted you to have it that way, because he saw the way your father treated your mother — “You’ve got to have an example of a healthy relationship. And I will give it to you”.

Why did he leave then? Why did you leave and led me to keep on falling for the mere shadows of you, Yugyeom?

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought. Lately you’d been remembering a lot of things about Yugyeom — probably because you met him all those weeks ago. The most disturbing thought? Oh, it wasn’t that good. It was horrible, so horrible that you had to physically distract yourself.

“Why did you order more drinks?” You looked at Minho, who leaned back in his seat, eyes wandering around the bar room. “Earth to Minho”, you waved your hand in front of his face, while he was staring through you. “I’ll cancel it”.

“No!” Your eyebrows raised in question, as he jumped up from his seat. “This bottle will be the last one, I swear”. Minho grabbed your hands in his, silently begging to let him have the last drink. However, you were not going to indulge in; you found yourself getting accustomed to drinking, to drowning your sorrows in the alcohol. You were tired of it.

You were never the type to get addicted to some bad habits: smoking never stuck to you; you did smoke for a couple of months after your breakup with Yugyeom and you did it occasionally during your latest relationship, but it was never something you couldn’t live without. Drinking, on the other hand, could become addictive if you just didn’t quit it.

How easy it was, to sit around the table with your friend, sipping on alcohol, empty bottles creating a circle on the surface. Eventually you’d run out of space, and that was the reason to pay and leave. Same thing happened to you several years ago, when Yugyeom and you put an end to your relationship; Chan had to drag you from bars and hide alcohol from you so that you wouldn’t have drown in pain. Yeah, you couldn’t get an addiction, as you thought. But you were becoming quite a regular at a broken hearted people pub.

Amidst your verbal fight with Minho, whose retorts consisted of non-comprehensive drunken blabbering, his hands gripping the beer bottle while you were trying to tear it away, you heard a familiar voice behind you. As happy as you were to hear her, the sound of her high-pitched, usually matter-of-fact voice somehow brought chills down your spine.

“That’s enough”, Eunjoo moved you to the side, the grip of her hand on your shoulder making you squeeze your eyes shot. Has she been working out? “Give me that”, she took the bottle from Minho’s hands with almost no effort, as he seemed to oblige to her mere presence. His eyes followed Eunjoo, when she put the money on the table, her fingers tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. You might have been tipsy, however, the way Minho stared at your best friend couldn’t escape from your attention.

“What’re you doin’ here?” You frowned at her, while Eunjoo observed Minho. Oh right, it was the first time you old best friend and your new bestie met; before that you had no idea whatsoever, but now you thought that they kind of had the same vibe to their personalities.

“Came to collect you”, she replied. What? First she uses a contraction, and now she starts a sentence without the subject in it? Is it really Eunjoo?

“To be honest”, she continued, “I’m really tired of your regular hangovers. Especially I’m tired of your absolutely fucked out look at our job. Where you need to work, and not nap every two hours”. What the literal fuck? Did Eunjoo just curse? Wha-a-at? “I wonder, why you’re still not fired. Oh wait”, she pointed a finger in your direction, “it’s because I’ve been covering for you”.

You sighed. Knowing that it wasn’t the best thing you’d done, you felt the wave of embarrassment rush through your body. Eunjoo had to cover your hangover in front of the boss, and you were forever grateful. If only you had actually thanked her for that.

“Anyways, I’m here to take you home”, this time, her touch on your shoulder was gentle. “And this… friend of yours, too”.

“I’m Minho”. He suddenly appeared in front of Eunjoo, almost pushing you away. You grimaced at his awkward attempt to get her attention.

Eunjoo nodded in response to his words; she didn’t look as if he’d interested her in any way. Hopefully, he won’t, you thought, fastening the seatbelt on the passenger seat of her car, Minho might be a good friend, but his dating history is pretty ugly.

Oh yeah? And Chan’s dating history is all about rainbows and flowers? Isn’t he the one to toss girls away when they reciprocate the love?

You let out a deep sigh, Minho’s drunken flirting with Eunjoo serving as a background for your thoughts. With all the love you had for Chris, either as his friend or failed lover, it was impossible to wrap your head around the bullshit he told you. You wished you could talk it out, spill your secrets and unsaid words, but he didn’t want to. He went radio silence for weeks without any warning, so he wasn’t interested anymore, right?

It isn’t like you could text him, yeah? It isn’t like a dialogue requires two people for it to happen, is it?

After dropping off Minho at his place — and his unsuccessful attempts to get Eunjoo number — she drove you to your apartment. The ride was accompanied by a midnight radio program with the very familiar host to the both of you.

“How’s Youngjae doing?”

“Fine. As far as you can hear, he enjoys his job very much”. Ouch. Your attempt to break the silence was a failure.

“Eunjoo-“

“Shut up”, she hit the brakes at the red light, her sharp knife voice cutting through you. “I get it, okay? You’re going through a tough time”. Youngjae’s contagious laugh filled the car, but this time, none of you smiled. “But you’ve got to move on too. If you keep on drinking, you’ll lose your job. And what are you going to do, huh? Is this Minho going to give you money? Or, d’you think Chan will do it?”

You shook your head, eyes squeezed shut, head low. Felt as if your mother had been scolding you. Only Eunjoo knew you better than your mom did, and Eunjoo was actually sincere and worried about you. She was your best and only real friend, after all.

“You’re smart”, she took a turn to your apartment complex, “smarter than all of those guys. Smarter than Chan”. The car stopped at the parking lot, both of you sat in silence for a moment.

“Don’t waste your life on chasing someone who doesn’t want you”, she covered your hands with hers. “Don’t drink your life away because he decided you weren’t good for him. You might be not enough for this asshole, but you’re certainly enough for everyone else, for me, for yourself. He’s not worth your suffering”.

Your eyes welled up at the words. Pulling her in for a hug, you had to blink rapidly to avoid another crying session.

“Thank you, Eunjoo. Thank you for everything you do for me”.

She hugged you tighter. “You’re always welcome. I know how hard it is for you to say this, and I’m thankful, too”.

“You may take all of the time in the world to overcome this pain”, the two of you were face-to-face again, “you shouldn’t bottle your emotions up. Just… Just talk to me instead of drinking, okay?”

You nodded, a smile creeping up on your lips. Eunjoo’s cousin laughed again, his radio program turned into another comedy show, and the two of you giggled at him. Never in your many failed friendships and toxic friends would you think a girl with a rigorous attitude with whom you had to share the same space at work, could be your closest friend.

Your cat greeted you with serious complaints and loud purrs, obviously demanding food and attention. Several minutes passed before you took your clothes off and stepped into the shower.

Chan used to say that showering together would help saving water, and you always chuckled at his proposals. It’s not like you ever rejected his shenanigans; you didn’t indulge in shower sex, but being naked with him under the water was another intimate moment to cherish.

You hated how everything was about him. Every surface of your flat was interwoven with the memory of him, his fingers squeezing your hips, lips brushing over yours, head in the crook of your neck. He was with you in the shower; he was cooking in your kitchen; he was sprawled on your couch, watching another episode of that dating reality show; he was snoring in your bed, his legs atop of yours. There wasn’t a single place in this apartment that he hadn’t graced with his touch. And you despised yourself for still craving his presence, even after all the pain he caused you.

Brushing your teeth, your brain visualized Chan behind you, a toothbrush in his hand, the other wrapped around your waist. Every little action of his was engraved in your head, not letting your breathe even for a second. How were you supposed to move on when the only thing you see was Chan?

“Do you want to move on?” Your therapist asked you.

“I don’t know”.

“Let’s put it into a different perspective. During your last conversation, he stated he’s been in love with you. Correct?”

“Yes”.

“He also said he liked the process of ‘chasing’ his potential partners. Correct?”

“Yes”.

“And he added that whenever someone reciprocated, he’d lose interest. That includes you. Correct?”

“Uh, yes”.

“After all of the above-mentioned, do you still believe he’s in love with you?”

“Yeah”, you breathed out, the voice of yours being unsteady. “I guess”.

“Why?”

“Because… Because”, you almost choked on your words, “he couldn’t fall out of love with me just suddenly. He couldn’t”.

Coming back to that conversation over and over again, you sat on the floor in your living room, tears falling down your cheeks. Was he ever truly in love with you, or was it another projection of yours? And if he was, how could he be so cruel?

A phone call distracted you from yet another sobbing section of your ‘pining over Chris’ daily program. Of course, only Han Jisung would call you at 1 A.M.

“Sorry for the late night call”, he said after countless apologies, “I just thought I should tell one of you”.

“Tell us what?”

“He’s insufferable”, Han whined, “I dunno what to do to bring him back to his normal self. He’s sulking, keeps being silent and just-“ You heard him sigh. “He’s constantly in his bed. Either sleeping or napping. Or he just lies there, watching the ceiling”.

You kept quiet for a swift moment only. “What d’you want me to do? Call his therapist or something”.

Jisung let out a nervous laughter. “Yeah, like his parents haven’t tried that already. He doesn’t speak to therapists”. Han’s heavy breathing signaled at him being on the verge of crying. Shit, Chan had fucked everyone over.

“He falls asleep quite often”, Jisung continued. “And he sleeptalks, y’know that. And when he does that, he only says your name”.

No. Ah-uh. No. Just no. Why would Han say that?

“So please, if you can, just come and see him. You want him to get better too. I know that”.

Your phone was on the floor next to you, as you scratched you nose to avoid crying. But your lip began to tremble, tears collecting in the eyelashes and everything turned into a blur — there were just your tears, and your wails muffled as you hugged your knees tightly. You used to get noise complaints for your loud moans of pleasure; however, now you’d get some more complaints for your almost-howls and incredibly hurtful sobs. Your chest was aching from the heavy breathing mixed with cries, and your jaw was in pain from open-mouthed inhaling and exhaling. That was a breakdown, such an extreme and terrible one that you couldn’t even see anything because of the amount of tears collected on your eyelashes.

If he was so hurt, why, why would he bring you so much pain? If he was so pathetic afterwards, why break up with you in the first place? Why? Why? Why?

Because he’s an asshole, your inner voice interfered, and because he doesn’t know how to express basic human emotions. You did your best for him, tried your hardest to overcome the most difficult thing — inability to express your emotions. You were there, on your knees in front of him in that hospital room, begging him to love you. Begging him to give the two of you a chance. But he rejected you back then. And now, what? He was mournful? Pining over you?

Ah-uh. He lost the right to it the second he shitted in your ears with that ‘the thrill expired’ bullcrap. He should’ve had a normal fucking conversation with you, talking about his feeling, working it out. But no, this asshole decided to leave you with a plate of shit and run away from human communication just to, what seemed like, die in complete loneliness. The loneliness he created himself. It was nobody’s fault but his.

“I hope he feels what I felt”, you mumbled while washing your face in the bathroom. It was still puffy, under eyes and lips red from all the crying you did; you cursed Han and his damn phone call. Why was he such a good friend? Oh yeah, probably because Chan hadn’t been a fucking butthead to him. Smart choice; otherwise, Mr. Bang would have no more friends left in his life.

You wouldn’t go and see him, right? “Right, of course I wouldn’t”, you stated out loud when raiding your closet in search of that lingerie set Chris loved. Just in case, you kept on telling yourself, I’m looking for it just in case.

You sat on the bed, wearing the said bra and panties, facing the mirror. Disheveled hair, a puffy face, your neck and chest red from all the nervous scratching you did in the last few minutes. It wasn’t like you were going to actually see him, right? And, what’s more important, you weren’t going to let him touch you again, were you?

“I’m not”, you were, as always when alone, talking to yourself; now, as you ran from the bedroom to the living room, dressing up, brushing your hair, you abruptly stopped mid your shenanigans.

Right in front of you, in your bedroom, on that bookshelf with all the books you’d bought but never read, was that damned perfume. Gently kept in between the books, so that your cat wouldn’t throw it on the floor, that perfume bottle was the most vivid proof of your and Chan’s relationship. The only thing, besides photos and gifts, that could transcend you to every moment spent with him. You hated this fucking perfume.

Spraying some on your skin, just on the back of your neck and your wrists, you put it in the bag. You petted your cat, promising you’d come back just in a couple hours, and then the lights in your apartment went off, keys turning in the door.

What the hell were you doing? One call from Jisung, swearing Chris was suffering without you, and? You were wearing that lacy lingerie under your clothes, clean-fucking-shaved, smelling like his favourite perfume, riding in the cab? That’s how easy it was?

You shook your head, disagreeing with your own thoughts. You were desperate to feel him again, to wrap your hands around him, to kiss his plushy lips, to run your hands through his hair. You needed that more than air, but you also couldn’t keep this up just in the name of love.

He was your temple, taking up all of the space in your life. Everything was about Chan, every day of yours accompanied by the presence of him. In those several months of being with him, you found yourself behind the closed doors; you locked them with your own hands. Cancelling plans just in case Chan called? Done. Not communicating with some of your old friends just because they didn’t like Chris? Do-o-ne. You practically had no hobbies by now, because your only hobby had been Chris, and how to keep him interested, and how to make him laugh, and how to make him fall in love with you.

How unhealthy was that?

So now you were going to end it. For good. You were ready to take the last leap and jump, just to get it over with. ‘Cause no matter how much you loved him, you were exhausted. And no amount of love could outweigh the tiredness this relationship had brought you.

And you were there. Staring at Chan, who was wearing his gray pajama pants and nothing more, dumbfounded look on his face. You couldn’t but notice a slight bulge, and you swallowed, images of him floating around your mind.

He let you in, still not a word said. You put the bag on the drawer, quickly putting the perfume bottle on it. You’d leave it here; if he was so desperate to see you, next time he could just spray some perfume around to pretended you were there. You were going to leave this perfume to him, because to you, it was too hurtful to even look at.

You turned around to face him. In the dim light of his apartment, Chan looked pathetically beautiful, as if he’d been a God, sent to Earth just to become your fatal personal tragedy.

One step further. You were right in front of him, hands carefully cupping his cheeks. He watched you with caution, as if you’d been a hallucination, destined to turn into air the moment he dared to touch you.

Today would be the last time he ever lands his hands on your body. The last time you ever let him this close.

No words exchanged between the two of you, when he leaned in, his lips lingering over yours, just slightly touching. Your eyes darted from his lips to his eyes, and there it was. With that simple look, he squeezed your waist and pounced on your lips. You dived in, letting his tongue meet yours in a passionate, i-missed-you-so-much dance. You kissed and kissed, and the only thing you could taste on his lips was betrayal. Because no matter what he was doing now, the memory of him torturing you with his words would forever be engraved in your mind.

When you finally broke the kiss, he was looking at you with a wide smile on his face. Oh, darling Chris, you thought, insinuating yet another heavy kiss, this is not a make up type of situation. You’re getting dumped tonight.

Your back was against the wall, his hands under your shirt, dancing on your bare skin, but not touching where you needed him. Between lips nibbling, him trailing kisses down your chin, teeth grazing down your neck, you could feel the pool of arousal in your panties. Chris could feel it too.

Now your back was against the mattress, his silky sheets welcoming you back in their embrace. Chan was hovering over you, looking you deep in the eyes, touches lingering all over your body, as if you were made out of porcelain, as if he was scared to break you. Too late for that, the inner voice stated, while you roamed your hands all over his body, you already broke me, Chris.

Withholding this intense eye contact while taking off your jeans, Chan let out a gluttural sound, almost a growl, when he saw black lace panties — the set he bought you himself. He trailed kisses from your knees up to inner thighs, humming into your skin. He sharply sucked the same skin into his mouth, marking you as always. Some of the bruises looked like stars when fading away, and you used to think your thigh scars, left there by your teenage self, were vanishing under the love bites Chris was leaving.

But the stars did fade away, and the scars stayed. Under the stars, you were still bleeding — but this time it seemed to be unstoppable; you felt as if you could die from all of that internal bleeding.

A tender kiss Chris left on your yet closed core got you arching your back, your hand immediately landing on his head, fingers in his soft curls. You knew he was smiling when taking off your panties, and you felt it when he left soft kitten licks on your now dripping pussy.

He responded to your moans with a hum, sending vibrations all over your body. You tugged on his hair.

“Are you going to actually fuck me tonight?”

These were the first words uttered tonight. Chris grinned and took his pants off in one swift movement. His dick, hard and leaking with pre-cum, seemed to hypnotize you. You briefly noticed saliva running down his chin from all the excessive sloppy kisses he’d been giving your folds and a smug smile on his face — all just ‘cause he got to taste you again.

“I’m going to”, his knee was between your thighs now, “fuck you senseless”. He tugged on your earlobe with teeth, making you moan into his shoulder.

Slipping a finger inside your slit, Chris caught your whimper by his mouth, covering your lips with his. His thumb pressed to your clit, drawing circles around it, and you almost lost the thin thread connecting you to the harsh reality. It was your last time with Chris. Last time kissing him. Last time being his girl.

“Oh, fuck”, Chan groaned, when you reached for his cock. The mere touch of yours made him twitch and stop all of his movement to keep his composure. “You’re killin’ me, baby”, he rasped, head buried in the crook of your neck.

No matter what he said, you still battled with your reasonable self: she told you not to lose focus, to get pleasure but to never forget — you were leaving him for good. Your emotional side, however… She was already on the cloud nine, willing to obey to any command Chan requires from you. But even her, this bubbly and sweet self of yours — even she knew this pleasure would turn into pain later. Although she didn’t mind loving Chris, even she couldn’t be in love with him any longer. Even your tender persona had found out how much pain Chan inflicted on you.

Pushing in his girthy cock into you slowly, Chris stared right into your soul, observing the way your face expression changed. Your mouth fell open, eyes hazily watching him mirroring you, his grip on your hips tightened. You’d have crescent marks in the morning — the last signs of your love with him ever existing.

Finally, swallowed by warmth, Chris bottomed out, letting you adjust, as you gripped him, head thrown back. He peppered kisses all over the side of your neck, hands massaging your breasts slowly, pinching nipples to make you gasp.

As he sluggishly thrusted into you, Chan couldn’t take his eyes off you. You knew he was watching, as he always did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to stare back at him. You wanted to cum, not to cry.

As he felt you getting comfortable enough, Chan set a pace, massaging your inner walls in a frantic tempo. You squeaked every time he hit that spot, burying himself deep inside of you. You grinded against him, begging for more friction, as your nails left marks all over his shoulders.

“This is what you want?” His thumb started drawing circles on your clit, your composure long lost under the thick layer of pleasure.

Except for your mewls and Chan’s groans, the sound of skin on skin clapping was filling in the room. Although the way your pussy squelched every time Chris pounded into you was the only sound you could hear.

“Shi-i-i-t”, he hissed, his cock throbbing inside of you, “I can’t g-get enough of y-you”, Chan stuttered, your walls fluttering around his cock made him lose his mind little by little.

“I love you”, he huffed, forehead pressed to yours, “I love you so fucking much”.

Savoring his words — words you hoped to hear every time you were this close, you couldn’t bring yourself to reciprocate. You wish you could give in and forget all of that like it was a bad dream. You wish you could. But you never would.

“Shut up”, your breath hitched as you pulled him in for another sloppy kiss.

You’d yield to temptation one more time, to feel his hot breath on your skin, to feel the shockwaves gripping your body as you saw the stars while he chanted your name, reaching his high. The sheer layer of sweat covering the both of you, Chris watched as your breath steadied and you got up on the wobbly legs.

“Wait for me in the shower”, he puffed, still laying on his back, eyes shut.

“I’m going home”.

You stepped out of the room, collecting your jeans from the floor when he appeared behind you. “What? Why?”

You sighed. “Do I really need to explain this to you? After everything you’ve done to push me away?”

“But I-I thought… You and I, we…”

“What? Fucked?” You put your jeans on and huffed at his words. “Doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stay with you after you pushed me away”.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered. Chan screwed up his face and sniffed, and deep inside you felt like shit for making him feel this way. “I’m an idiot, baby, I have no excuses. Just if-“

“No”, you retorted. “No. You’re only interested now ‘cause I’m out of reach again, aren’t I? ‘The thrill of chasing’, that’s how you call it?

“Baby…” His eyes were closed as he let out a deep sigh. Yeah, you fucked up big this time, Chris. There’s no way out.

“Is there anything, anything I can do for you to forgive me? Please?”

“Yes, there’s one thing. Disappear from my life forever”.

Taglist:

@heylookwhoitis @amaranth-writing @itstorimf @tenshimara

#bang chan #bang chan imagine #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan imagines #bangchan #bangchan imagines #bangchan imagine #stray kids imagines

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thetimelessdreams · 3 years

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A world without their encore - AU

a week ago I thought about this story while listening to Encore again.

Encore! Encore! Encore! - the fans screamed, like always. They wanted more of their favourite seven boys. The freedom is all theirs.

A nice August morning in a calm village in South Korea. Jaebeom woke up as usual at 6:30am, going outside for a small walk around his garden, admiring the work he and his wife had done. Being a farmer was his destiny, he believed. This place earned him so much money, selling fruits and vegetables every year. The sun was still rising in the clear sky. "It's a beautiful sky!", he thought. That's when he was hugged from behind. "Good morning, farmer!", Jaebeom's wife exclaimed. "Good morning, lady farmer...", he replied turning back to face her. They shared a small peck and looked at the sun again. It's like the sky was watching them, and admired them, just like the farmers were right now.

"The sun will always watch us and help us," Jaebeom said and his wife nodded. Between them was no misunderstanding, just purity.

남아있는 날도...

"And there goes my brother, Tuanzy with a quadra kill this round, praise him in the chat. He needs it!!", Joey exclaimed after winning another round of Valorant during his Twitch stream. It's not often his older brother, Mark Tuan, was free to play with him anymore. They used to be gamers all the time before Mark graduated college. Now he has serious work and it's rare to have free days. The elder was smiling at his brother's screams. He knew Joey was more emotional than him and didn't mind it. That added a lot of charm to him. A charm that Mark also has and uses at his workplace. Gaming is always well spent time, but hours pass too fast and they had to end the stream, leaving people to sleep.

이젠 편하게 이젠 goodnight...

Morning for the Olympic gold medalist, Jackson Wang. It's been a sleepless night for all of China. The 27yr old fencer got a gold medal after defeating his childhood rival, Sandro Bazadze with 15-13. The journalists were all over the charismatic fencer who won this year's Olympics. He did it for his country, to hear the hymn, to be proud of how far he had gone. He accomplished his dream. His parents were in the stadium watching. His mother cried tears of joy, that her son is a world champion, the thing she never succeeded to do. Then something surprising happened. Bazadze came to him and they hugged. "You did well today, Wang!", Sandro said leaving the other fencer's embrace. "You too Bazadze!", Jackson replied smiling.

아직 우린 어린아이 같은데 세상은 어른이라 부르네 평생 우린 철들지말자 약속했던 그때 그시절 우리 잊었나...

Park Jinyoung, the most famous actor, the face of Korea, the boy of the nation has become a world star. His last movie was a coproduction with Hollywood, which earned him a lot of new fans. Park is a really quiet and reliable person, doesn't smile a lot, but is always happy about his success. Jinyoung's manager and the star were celebrating at Park's home with a classy dinner. It was cooked by the maid that Jinyoung secretly likes. He never had the courage to ask her out though. He kept staring at her and she did at him. Love is in the air. Affection is there. But will that hurt the fans, if he dated? He wanted to never damage their feelings. He cares too much.

모든게 처음이었던 우리에겐 너의 모든게 선물이었던 걸...

Choi Youngjae, the soloist. One of the best, well known in Korea, the face of the country, the sunshine of all people. Who stays for the North Koreans as well. He had done concerts there and still wants the two Koreas to be one. His grandfather lives in the North and he met him at the last concert. The heartbreaking event was recorded and all the world saw that even there, people have the chance to be united. Despite the differences in the systems, Youngjae kept going. And he was nominated for a noble prize, which he won.

"Thank you so much for the award, you'd given me. The world can be one peaceful place if we believe in ourselves. Even in God if you are religious unlike me. We all have a spirit or at least something that keeps us strong. No one has to give up. Never ever." Choi said proudly, not stuttering for a second. He kept being applauded even when he sat in his place after receiving the award. Youngjae was about to cry, so many emotions that he hadn't witnessed in this amount.

세상이 끝나도...

Kunpimook Bhuwakul, one of the worst criminals of Thailand. A mafia head, whose face and name are unknown to society. People call this mysterious person BamBam. The person who overthrew an old and well-respected monarchy led it alone. He didn't need help. Bam had a sweet voice when he had been broadcasted to the public eye, he spoke in 4 languages, saying all he had planned for his home country. His siblings knew he is behind all of this, but not his best friend, Lalisa. She suspected his voice is familiar but never thought Kunpimook is behind all of this. She just can't imagine him like that.

Today was another day of his weekly speeches, trying to save a dying country, normalise it and other stuff. Then Lalisa entered the room, seeing her best friend since childhood grabbing the mic to speak.

"Kunpimook! For hell's sake, idiot, how dare you be a leader like that!"

"Lisa, this isn't what you-"

Then she slapped him in the face, she couldn't take seeing him anymore. No emotions were on his face, but his tone was really devastating. BamBam finally felt sadness and humiliation.

"Lisa...don't you leave me too..."

해가 저물어 검게 물들고...

Kim Yugyeom, who sells flowers and walks his dog around the park. He sees a pretty girl with her dog and talks to her. They have so much in common. Yugyeom is happy, they start dating. She works with him in his flower shop. Both earn a lot of money together and buy a house. Yugyeom is finally happy that he found the one. Unlike his parents. He is afraid of her leaving him. So he is protective and shows a lot of affection. Every night he sleeps and wakes up with anxious thoughts of loneliness. His girlfriend understands him completely and is always with him. Both are emotional and seem to always be happy with each other. She tells him every day that she won't leave him for anyone or anything. She is honest or is she lying?

Yugyeom shrugged at that thought finally falling asleep at 4am.

너의 모든게 선물이었던 걸...

One day, a portal opened in front of them all. So they entered it. 7 men, 1 place. A scene, it was a concert. Many people were carrying green lightsticks and were chanting encore, encore, encore in the darkness. Then the men who were performing turned back to the ones from the portal. Frustration. All of them were identically the same.

- You are us? - Jinyoung the actor said. - What...? - replied Jaebeom the idol. - You look so much like me!! - shouted Jaebeom the farmer.

The fans noticed something was wrong and stopped.

A big black hole opened and all 14 of them went in there. Abruptly, they all fell from the sky in a lake in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't their world. No one understood what happened, but the term GOT7 was forever forgotten as if it was wiped off existence.

기억해 지금도 그댈 오랜시간 우리 함께 했던 건 아무 이유없이 너라서 그래 오랜 시간 지난후에도 여기 나와 함께 있어줄래

널 위해 부를게 시간이 지나도 널 위해 부를게 남아있는 날도...

Only one disk was in front of them. It had the word Encore on it. They played it, intertwining hands, closing their eyes and listening to the melody that brought them to another place, undiscovered by humans. Big palms, the endless ocean around them.

So they all neglected their differences and began building an unusual civilization that will soon crash down in the thought of mortality and extinction. Years passed and the dysfunction, chaos and arguments were vivid among them. Everyone missed their homes. The stars, GOT7, missed the encore chants. Mark his job, Jaebeom his farming lifestyle, Jackson his sabre, Jinyoung his fans, Youngjae his music career, Kunpimook his family and most importantly Lisa. And Yugyeom, he gave up.

13 left.

Will you continue?

Y / N

#got7 au #mark tuan #lim jaebeom #im jaebeom #jackson wang #got7 jackson #got 7 jinyoung #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #got7 youngjae #bambam #got7 bambam #kim yugyeom #got7 yugyeom #got7 fanfic #got7 imagines #why so many hashtags?#i forgot some tags #but nevermind

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