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jisunghannie · 1 month

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Under the Influence

PAIRING: Bangchan x fem!reader

WARNINGS: Swearing, Use of the name jagi/jagiya, pet names, unprotected sex, mentions of drugging, mentions of needles/injections, virgin!reader, mentions of a beaten bloody body, soft!dom Chan, praise

SUMMARY: You had had a debt to pay back Hyunjin. Chan, taking an interest in you, decided to have fun. When he became a prey in a web he spun. Lets just say, being close to your client isn't such a good idea.

WORD COUNT: 4,031

A/N:

This is not proofread! You can get sneak peeks of that piece and other pieces of my works on @mr-hanjisung ! Also, apologies if there are grammar mistakes or anything, I hope you guys enjoy this piece!

Sorry for such the long wait! I'm really trying to get more content out but school is so stressful. Hopefully you guys enjoy this piece. The next part of the series won't take as long!!

Taglist: @annybah @softkisshyunjin @queenmea604 @hyunmikim @stayceebs97 @boi-bi-ahaha @lilinaskzz

“Cut the crap y/n.” Seungmin said as you caressed your cheek. “I’m telling the fucking truth.” You spat out as Hyunjin sat in his chair. “Let's get one thing straight.” He said unrolling his legs, “You borrowed our money. You weren't able to pay it back in the required time. Not to mention, pissed off our leader pretty well.” He said, laughing. Just then right on cue, the rest of the mafia came in.

You noticed Changbin's messy hair, knowing well that he worked well with his sex appeal. Which is why you refused to work with him and why you worked with Hyunjin. You watched as Jisung ran his fingers through his hair, his sweat noticeable, his arms covered in scratch scars. You saw how Felix now held a syringe, full. You must've looked horrified because Jeongin laughed.

“How cute, you're actually scared?” Jeongin cooed as you looked at Lee Know as he whispered something in Chan's ear.

How did you even end up like this?

Chan smiled and then nodded his head. But at what? You wondered. Then you felt a pinch in your shoulder. You turned to see Felix injecting you with the very syringe you saw him with. “Don't worry, it's just a sedative.” He reassured you as he took out the needle. You wanted to argue back but your body immediately didn't want to cooperate with you. “It's effective immediately. Amazing isn't it?” He asked as Hyunjin nodded.

“Shall we leave her here?” Seungmin asked Chan as Chan nodded. “Let her stay here for a bit until she realizes her dire circumstances.” He said as they all hummed in response, leaving the room. Your mind was foggy and you were in a daze. But next thing you knew, you were passed out in the corner.

When you woke up, you didn't know how much time passed because there were no windows where you were at but your head hurt and you felt horrible. You rubbed your eyes trying to look around for anything to help you.

Your vision was blurred and your mind was still foggy from the drug but you saw someone and walked to them for help. You grabbed his shoulders and reached to his collar. “Help me please…” You pleaded as you heard a chuckle. “Keep your hands to yourself.” The voice said. You removed your hands and stood up. “Please help me, I’ll do anything. Anything, to get out.” You told the voice as the voice laughed. You were confused as you could finally notice some things about the silhouette.

The silhouette was definitely male. The voice and how his shoulders felt. The silhouette was vaguely familiar. Strangely, you feel like you’ve heard his voice somewhere.

“Goodness, you don’t know who I am?” He asked, pulling your wrist down, making you kneel before him, looking up at him as if you were worshiping a god. “Open your fucking eyes,” He said sternly. “Before you decide to touch me again.” He said, his accent extremely familiar. Then it hit you, “Chan..?” You asked as he chuckled, “Who else would come down here alone?” He said as your vision finally cleared up, realizing what kind of position you were in.

You were on your knees, looking up at him as he glared down at you as if he was someone of power looking down upon you.

Which he does hold power against you. You knew that.

You tried to look down, but when you did you saw how close your face was to his pants. You blushed and got up immediately. He smirked, “I didn’t know you were that desperate to get out y/n.” He retorted as you shook your head. “It’s not like that…” You said, backing up, until he got up and started to walk to you slowly.

Then your back hit the wall. He got closer and grabbed your wrists once again. It didn’t hurt, it was just very firm. Then, he pinned them over your head, causing you to turn away, scared of what would come next. You were barely 20, you didn’t want to give yourself up all over some debt. You then felt Chan’s breath up against your ear, your heart beating faster, unsure if it was because you were horrified or because you were feeling bashful.

He then kissed your cheek.

“Don’t worry love, I won’t do anything.” He whispered as he released you causing you to slide against the wall and fall to the floor. “At least, not yet.” He said, looking down at you once again. “But I will admit, you look lovely in a position looking up at me.” He told you as he chuckled and walked out.

Your heart raced with thoughts pulsing through your mind. You didn't know what to think when he walked out of the room.

You didn't know how much time passed but the next thing you knew Jisung came down and blindfolded you. You then felt him pull you up into another room. It felt like you guys were walking forever.

“Our boss has a proposal for you but it's up to you if you want to take it.” Jisung said as you exhaled slowly. You wondered what the proposal was as Jisung finally took off your blindfold. You were faced eyes-to-eyes with Chan.

You didn't know why but something about his appearance was different. He looked more soft and innocent. He wasn't cold and brooding. His hair was wavy, the wavy curls must've added the effect. But you had noticed that he had taken off his “edgy” glasses and jewelry. Which added more to the innocent look.

“What, you just gonna keep staring?” He asked as you shook your head and took a seat. “So Hyunjin still wants his money, and you want to be freed. So tell you what, either you can work with us and pay back Hyunjin the money, quit, and swear all this to the grave. Or we can kill you right here and now.” He stated simply as he gave you a smug smirk. “The choice is yours.”

You were tempted to choose the former option but if it became too much you might've wanted the latter option.

“Give me about another week.” You told him as he chuckled, standing up and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Don't think you get that luxury… you don't get it, you'll have tonight and tomorrow. If you don't decide on it tomorrow. At noon…” He traced his hand on your nape. “You're dead…” He said simply, as chills ran down your spine. You didn't know what to do but you knew to just nod your head and shut up.

As you were taken back to the place you were at before meeting Chan you wondered if you could appeal to him differently.

Even if it meant swallowing your pride.

The next day you awoke sleeping on a bed?

“You're awake.” A familiar voice said, as you turned to look at who said it. It was Chan. “I have a different proposal for you.” He said, looking at the rainfall hitting the glass window. He was in a black robe, his wavy curls, wet and tight, his posture, stern yet relaxed, as he held his wine glass.

“You see,” He turned to face you, “I have to go to this mafia party. I have to bring my crew along with…” He looked repulsed for a minute and looked away, “My spouse.” He said as he walked closer to you. “The lady who was originally my pretend wife canceled on me because she didn't like the atmosphere and I told her simply to pay me back the prices that I spent on her as my “wife”. Yet she didn't.” He said, taking his seat, “What a shame to her.” He said as he shook his head.

“What are you trying to say?” You asked bluntly as he chuckled. “For your debt to be paid in full, you just have to pretend to be my wife. Of course, being a mobster's wife is dangerous but…” He then got up and stood in front of you, lifting your chin up to face him. “You’ll do perfectly.” He said as you pushed his hand away. “If you think I'll take this damn offer you got another thing coming Chan.” You said standing up as he gazed into your eyes. “Do you, really, wanna continue and go there y/n?” He asked, this time even closer to you.

If he were to get any closer, you would've been skin to skin with him. Touching his arms and possibly entangled with a kiss. And maybe even-

“That's what I thought.” He said cutting off your train of thought. “I'll see you tonight jagi.” He said, kissing your cheek. “Here's my card, go buy the perfect dress, make sure it has a slit.” He told you as you side-eyed him. “Why specifically a slit in the dress?” You asked. “For the sex appeal?” You retorted as he chuckled. “Full of jokes, are we now?” He smiled, “No, it's so if in any case we need to defend ourselves.” He said as he kissed your left hand, looking at it, “Go get a ring. Make sure the ring looks expensive.” He said as he released your hand and left. You fell back onto the couch, leaving your legs feeling like jelly.

You went with Jisung and Jeongin. Why them out of all people? Jisung and Jeongin looked innocent and sweet. Jisung was a great actor and could get a cheaper or even free deal for an item as Jeongin was great at passive-aggressive intimidation to scare people into getting things you wanted. Was it wrong to choose them for your benefit? A little, but you weren’t complaining. You saw the most perfect dress, and of course, another girl wanted the dress.

“Hey, I actually wanted to buy this dress.” You told her blatantly as she gave you an ugly look. “Look, I’m not in a good mood and I really don’t want to be tested today.” She said, snapping her fingers, bringing two men to her side, looking like bodyguards. “Do you even know who I am?” She asked you as you laughed, “Bitch.” You said, snapping your fingers as Jisung and Jeongin walked by you and stood by your side, staring her and her bodyguards down. “Do you know who I am?” You asked as she furrowed her brows, walking off. “You’ll regret this mobster.” She spat, walking away.

You exhaled deeply not believing what you just did, as Jisung and Jeongin looked at you and smiled. ��That was certainly something. You sounded like a mobster's wife or daughter for sure.” Jisung said, “Maybe even a mobster itself.” Jeongin said as you shook your head. “Anyway, let's just buy this dress and go look at rings.” You told them as they nodded, following you along.

When you went back, Chan left you with a note on his desk saying,

‘Be back later lover, I have a hair and makeup crew coming within 5 minutes. - Chan 3:30 pm’

You checked the time and it was 3:34 pm, and as if on cue, the minute it hit 3:35 pm a crew walked in and set up everything. Sitting you down and getting to work before 3:40.

Chan returned at 5 pm getting his outfits tailored, his makeup and hair done, and once he was done he went to find you.

He opened the door, to see you in the most tight-fitted, black dress. Of course, it had a slit, as Chan requested. You had black, silk gloves that reached your elbows, a beautiful ring that sat on your left ring finger, over your glove. Your hair was pinned up in a bun, simple black heels to match alongside your black chiffon shawl. Your neck, adorned with the same gems that were on your ring.

You turned to him and walked over to him. “I didn't know that mafia wives needed so much weaponry on them.” You said as he laughed, pulling you in, “How many do you have on you?” He asked as you shook your head. “Too many… one in my hair, I have one attached to a garter on my thigh, a gun concealed under my skirt-” He then covered your mouth. “I get it. Just stop talking and let's go lover.” He said, and oh my god, the way it rolled off his tongue.

You guys then went into probably the most expensive car you've ever seen in person. Before you could reach to open the car door, Chan held your hand and opened the door for you. “A lady should never have to open a door.” He said, kissing your hand, leading you in the car. “Thank you.” You said pulling your hand away, trying not to get attached, as this was nothing more than a job.

The next few minutes were awkward as you guys sat in silence. Chan then broke the silence by saying, “Alright, does everyone know what they are doing in this mission?” He asked as you shook your head, “I'm sorry? Everyone? Mission? Surely I'm not a part of it.” You laughed out, hoping that he was talking to everyone but you. He then chuckled, “Oh my dear, you have the most important job.” He said as he wrapped his arm around your neck. “You have to go and court the heir who's running this party.” He told you as you shook your head. “I can't.” You said as Jisung spoke up, “You got what it takes. I've seen it.” Minho then chuckled, “Yeah, you have all of us too.” Jeongin then smiled at you, “Agreed.”

Felix then handed you a box full of filled syringes. “This is the same drug I used to drug you with the first time we met. If you use this after you court him, we should be able to collect him for ransom.” Felix said as you nodded still not believing that you are really going to do this.

Once you guys had arrived Chan placed a hand on your back. “He's the one so make sure you get him.” He told you as the clenched your fists tight. “Understood.” You whispered as he chuckled.

Throughout the party, he was flocking from woman to woman.

‘God, what a womanizer.’

You thought as Chan talked to you through the tiny earpiece you had on. “Hey jagi, you need to get a move on him quickly.” He told you. “I'm going in now.” You replied as he watched.

“Hey.” You said plainly as he eyed you up and down. “Ladies, can you give us some space?” He asked, more demanding as they left. “Hey there beautiful.” He said as you giggled. “Care for a drink?” You asked as he nodded. He snapped his fingers and brought over two glasses and poured wine into them. “Don't you think the stars look lovely from the view?” He asked as you turned to look at them. “Yes, indeed.” You replied and he held your hand and kissed it gently, “Not as lovely as you though.” He said as you smirked. “Glad to hear.” You said amused as he held up his glass. “Cheers to you lovely lady.” He said as you lifted your glass, making eye contact with him, “Cheers to me, the lovely lady.” You said as your glasses clinked and you guys drank the drinks.

You then heard Chan's voice through your ear piece, “Don't drink it!” But it was too late. You already did. You looked at him and mouthed, ‘I know what I'm doing.’ However 5 minutes later you were light-headed and the last thing you knew was the heir you were courting was picking you up and walking off.

When you awoke, the heir was beaten to a bloody pulp and taken out. As Chan looked at you.

“My goodness jagi…” He purred, looking you up and down. “At least he knows how to dress you.” He said as you realized that you were now in fully black, laced lingerie. Your face immediately flushed as you looked at Chan, licking his lips. “Unless you wore it underneath?” He retorted as you shook your head. “I have to admit…” He said twirling your now let loose hair, “You look… absolutely… breathtaking…” He said getting closer and closer to your ear. You tried to move but soon realized that you were under restraints.

“Why don't I get a reward for how hard I worked? That is, if you would let me..?” He asked as you looked at him. “You think I would?” You asked him angrily wondering why he would even ask that. “Yes, because after all.” He then got closer to your ear. “I know deep down somewhere, you secretly want me to.” He told you as you blushed.

“So? Is that a yes jagi?” He asked as you gritted your teeth. “How much longer are you going to keep denying me..?” He whispered once again. God, his voice sounded so sweet but you knew that he didn't have innocent intentions. Still, and shockingly, you nodded subtly as he chuckled.

“Adorable…” He said, kissing your cheek. “I'm gonna go ahead and continue, if you feel bad, in pain or under pressure just tell me.” He told you as you shook your head, “Do you know how dangerous it is?” You asked him as he shrugged unbuttoning his tight-fitted button up shirt. “And? I’m a mobster, don’t forget that. My life’s sole purpose is danger.” You bit your lip and you closed your eyes. You heard him chuckle.

“Can't handle seeing a bit of eye-candy?” He teased as you shook your head. You then felt your chin get tugged forward as you opened your eyes, seeing his bare chest in front of you. “My eyes are up here.” He said lifting your chin higher to look at him. You gulped, taking in how truly dominating he was.

His lips curved into a smirk as they kissed down your body, kissing your stomach.

You whined a hum as Chan smirked against your skin. “That sounded very inviting…” He teased kissing to your left inner thigh, licking and kissing it gently as he massaged small circles to your right side. You blushed and tried to bite on your lower lip to muffle your moans, as your wrists were cuffed in your restraints still.

“Channie… release me out of these restraints..!” You whisper-yelled as he licked his lips, looking back up at you. “Oh?” He hummed as he moved your panties, causing you to squirm feeling the light breeze. He smirked at the sight, “You're so wet jagi…” He said as he looked back at you. “What did you need again?” He asked as you sighed and the minute you opened your mouth, you had squealed, your eyes widening, feeling Chan's fingers inside, stretching you out.

This time, you bit your lip once again as he smirked, making the pace of his fingers faster. “Jagiya… tell me what you wanted…” He said as he began to move them faster. You had thought you lost your mind. It was full of lust and you wanted more. You couldn't even think right. “You have 5 seconds.” He told you as you threw your head back, feeling a knot in your stomach.

“5…” You felt yourself get tighter around him as he continued to increase his pace. “4…” You slowly felt the knot untying inside. “3…” Now you didn't know if your body obeyed you anymore, you began to moan for more. “2…” You could see Chan's smirk once he said 2. “And 1…” You were close, so fucking close. Until he pulled out his fingers. Feeling your euphoric pleasure go away you looked at him with tears in your eyes. “Remove these restraints.” You demanded as he licked his fingers, the same fingers he was just pumping inside you with. “Since when do you give orders?” He asked as you huffed, now sensitive and not caring much about your dignity now. He's seen your most sensitive and hidden area. What's more to hide now?

“Please… that feeling… that euphoria… I need it… I want it… please… I'll be good I promise…” You begged as he hummed in response. “Look who learned to be a good girl…” He said as he removed the restraints on you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he chuckled softly, picking you up.

“I don't think this heir keeps condoms-”

“Just do it raw.”

Chan looked at you and furrowed his brows. “Do it like what now?” He asked in confusion as you rested your head on his shoulder. “Just do it raw.” You said again as he sighed, “Do you know how dangerous-”

“What happened to ‘I’m a mobster, don’t forget that. My life’s sole purpose is danger’ hmm?” You told him as he held you speechless and then chuckled.

“Don't say I didn't warn you.” He said as you rolled your eyes.

He placed you on the bed as he unbuttoned his trousers. His shirt was already off, and now that you were looking at him. He was very attractive. Like dangerously attractive. He then cleared his throat and you looked at his face. “Shall we continue?” He asked as you could see a small spot that was wet, probably from action you guys had earlier.

You chuckled and nodded. He then grabbed you a few pillows and set you up properly as he took off his underwear, letting you notice how hard he was.

“Remember, if you feel bad, in pain or under pressure just tell me.” You nodded as you prepared yourself to take him in.

Then, you felt him inside, once you did, you grabbed onto his shoulders. He hummed as he heard you squirm under him. “I'll give you a moment, then I'll move.” He said as you nodded.

After what seemed like forever, Chan began to move, increasing his pace with each thrust. You held onto his shoulders as if your life depended on it. He chuckled as you felt his hot breath against your ear.

“Better than my fingers isn't it?” He asked, sounding more like a statement but nonetheless you quietly moaned and whined.

“Nobody will hear us, just… let yourself go…” He told you as you shook your head no. He scoffed as he increased his speed, putting his index and middle finger near your mouth. “Open and suck.” He demanded as you complied.

You could feel him hitting every single spot. He enjoyed every minute of it. You could feel him smile against your shoulder as he kissed the back of your neck gently. It sent chills down your spine as you arched your back. You heard him groan as if he was caught off guard.

“I’m close… really fucking close…” He groaned out as you were now drooling, saliva coming out of your mouth and onto his fingers. “Did I fuck you dumb..?” He asked now out of breath as he felt you clench around him. He knew you came. He could feel your insides hug him close as if wanting him to release inside as he took a deep breath in.

“I can’t… I need to cum outside so we don’t risk it.” He told you as you nodded. He removed his fingers from your mouth and slowly pulled out, jacking off and cumming on your stomach. “You are so cute when you are being so demanding.” He chuckled as he relished the sight of you painted in his cum.

He then kissed you and hugged you close. “What if you were to actually become my spouse? That'll be your payment to Hyunjin.” He said, joking about that being your payment and not joking that you two should get married. But you were already fast asleep.

He looked at you sleeping and chuckled. “Hopefully you accept my proposal.” He said as he held your hand and held you close, relaxing and enjoying the moment before you woke up and slapped him.

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blossom-hwa · 4 months

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Worn-Out Soles [3] | b.c

pairing: Chan x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au warnings: kidnapping, injury, death word count: 16.8k notes: — this is a retelling of the 12 dancing princesses :) inspiration taken from the original fairy tale, the Barbie movie, and the retelling by Jessica Day George, Princess of the Midnight Ball. — mc in this story has multiple sisters as befitting the original fairy tale, but they are not blood-related for inclusivity reasons. In a world where magic lies in the arts, you are a princess of Terpsichani, the kingdom whose power comes from dance. Loved by many, you care for your country deeply, though in truth your heart only belongs to the palace's royal cobbler, Chan, who holds equal affection for you in return. It's a love that could never be, you both know, though it doesn't stop you from pining. But then you go missing on the final night of your kingdom's Moonlight Festival, leaving behind nothing but the memories of a final dance. When your sister brings news of your disappearance to Chan's doorstep, there's only one thing he can do. Follow you into the depths of hell to bring you back—or die trying. Part 2 >> Part 3

To Spin a Yarn | Stray Kids Masterlist

Chan finds himself in front of the witch’s hut with no idea how he got there.

His sides heave with the effort of taking breath. His mouth feels dry, like he hasn’t had water in days. He reaches up and finds there are still tears in his eyes, and the sun has risen and nearly set during the time it took to return.

He failed. He failed so badly—didn’t manage to get the necklace, didn’t manage to get you out. All he has is this wretched crown in a wretched case, and he doesn’t even know how to unlock it. With luck he won’t need to unlock it, he’ll be able to just burn the whole thing together, but the king still has his necklace and he still has you—

Shut up. Chan knocks on the door and tries to breathe. Panicking and crying won’t help you. He needs to think, because he’s going back. Obviously. For the ruby necklace, and for you, and then you’re going to get out of that godforsaken kingdom and never look back.

Yeah, and look how well that went last time.

The door swings open before he can try and refute that.

“Oh! Young man—” The witch sees the look on his face and cuts herself off.

Wordlessly, Chan opens his bag and extends her the case with the crown. “I have the crown,” he says, and his voice sounds terrible, rough and hoarse and his throat is dry, so dry. “It’s in here, but it’s locked. I don’t know if you can burn it outright.”

She waves him inside, taking the case. “There are many enchantments woven on this. I don’t know if it would burn in the fire in this box,” she replies, brows furrowed. She taps the dent that Chan saw in the middle. “This is where you would unlock it, if there was a key.”

Chan takes a closer look at the dent. He hadn’t tried much before; the king’s room was dark, and then there was no time. Now that he can see it in the light, it’s not really a dent—more of a carefully molded groove, the inset similar to the edges of a cut crystal…

“It’s the ruby,” he whispers, horror washing over him. He thought he failed before, but it’s even worse—the ruby is meant to unlock this box. He’s sure of it. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes terrible. He never quite got the closest look at the ruby, but the general shape and set of the jewel seems to match the box and it just fits.

The witch seems to agree. “Do you have the necklace?” she asks, indicating his clenched fist.

Huh. He hadn’t noticed he was holding something so hard. With effort, he opens his fist, his fingers protesting as blood comes rushing back into them. In his palm lies a silver key, its shape imprinted into his skin. Chan almost laughs. He didn’t even need to use it, in the end. What if he hadn’t gone for this, and tried to take the ruby first? Would he have succeeded?

But no. He needed the key, if it was yours. In case you didn’t manage to get out. The knowledge that he’s right doesn’t comfort him much, though.

“No.” Chan rips the word off his tongue, tasting all his failure on it. “He wears it at all times. I—tried to get this key first. And I did. But he woke up, and then there was no time.” He swallows hard. “And I couldn’t rescue my friend either.”

Slowly, slowly, the witch nods. “I see,” she replies, her old voice grave. “So what will you do next?”

For some reason, this is what breaks the dam of tears that he had just managed to erect.

“I don’t know,” he grits out, all the anger and self-hatred from hours of riding coming out in full force. “I don’t know. I failed. I messed everything up, and I lost Y/N—”

The old woman touches his arm. Guides him quietly to a chair. Waits until his chest stops heaving and he stops babbling nonsense, and extends him a glass of water, which he sips at first, then downs in three gulps. She refills it and then sits before him once more.

“You did not fail,” she says quietly, and the certainty in her voice finally strikes a chord in his chest, his heart beating a little more slowly. “You brought back the crown, and while we may not be able to destroy it just yet, the center of magic being pulled from the kingdom will already lend to its collapse.” She picks up the case again. “I will work at the enchantments and see if I can break any. In the meantime—”

“I have to go back,” Chan blurts out. “I have to—I need to get Y/N out, I need to bring her back.”

“And so you will,” she agrees. “But not now.”

Anger flares in his chest. “What do you mean, not now? She’s already hurt! I can’t wait—”

“You must,” she snaps, iron in her voice. “It is dark. The king’s men will be hunting you in the shadows, and once you leave the hut my protections will no longer cover you. Even with the invisibility cloak, while they may not be able to see you, you will not see them under the cover of night. And, beyond this, you are in no shape to go.” Chan starts to protest, but she raises a hand. “You have not slept in over a day. You need to rest, and so does your poor horse.” Her voice softens. “When dawn comes, you will go. You must, to save your friend. But until then, you will rest.”

She’s probably right. Chan can already feel his body slumping with exhaustion. But the thought of you, alone and hurt at the mercy of a king of hell still raises his voice. “You said the kingdom would collapse without its center of power,” Chan gets out. “Was that a literal collapse? Or just metaphorical?”

“Literal,” the old woman replies easily. “But it will take some time—the collapse would not be as quick as if I burned the crown in the fire right this instant. You have perhaps a day before the palace will literally begin to collapse. Which is enough time for you to rest.” She puts down the box and turns to a cabinet, rummaging around for a minute before coming back with a small bottle that she gives to him. “This will give you dreamless sleep,” she says, not unkindly. “Please, young man. You must rest.”

Chan stares at the small bottle. He thought he was all cried out, but tears brim at his eyes once more. “Why are you helping me so much?” he asks, voice brittle. “In fact, if you knew all this, why wouldn’t you fight the king yourself?”

She laughs kindly, putting a wrinkled hand over his. “I would, if these old bones would sustain another confrontation,” she says, chuckling a little sadly. “I am old, young man. I have seen many things, and I have fought most of my own battles. Trust me when I say that I would not survive another fight with that kingdom.”

Chan blinks. “Another?”

“Yes. I am one of those who cursed his family, after all.” She continues as if Chan wasn’t immediately reeling from that piece of information. “This was ages ago, and they hadn’t stirred much, to my knowledge, until you came by. Now I realize they must have been wreaking more havoc than I was aware of.” With a strong sigh, she shakes her head. “That royal family is evil, Chan. Their magic is the darkest of all. While I and the other witches were not strong enough on our own to fully defeat them, only curse them so that they could not bear the sunlight, I have hopes now that their power will disappear forever.”

“…But I failed.”

“On your first try.” She smiles. “But you will return, no? And you will try again. It was not on my first attempt that I managed to curse the Kereseians below the ground. You are on a tighter schedule than I was, perhaps, but I have faith in you, young man. You are pure of heart, motivated by love, and you will not give up until you succeed.” Her tone turns stern. “But to do that, you must rest. Yes?”

Chan’s throat hurts, and not just from a day of riding without stopping for water. “Yes, my lady,” he whispers around the lump constricting his voice. “Thank you.”

. . . . .

When your eyes fully open for the first time, you’re not sure how much time has passed. You recall slipping in and out of consciousness, pain blurring the edges of your vision as you gasped for air, so you wait for blackness to consume your vision again, but this time, it doesn’t.

Slowly, you try to take in your surroundings. You haven’t moved from where you were dropped on the floor, after the king broke one of your legs and had someone else snap the other. You don’t think you could even if you tried. You don’t dare try and turn to see the state of your legs, but from the pain still screaming through your bones and skin, it can’t be anything good.

You close your eyes again, letting a few tears leak out. Gods and stars above, why did you wake? Why couldn’t you just stay unconscious? At least in the darkness of your mind, you couldn’t register the pain as clearly. Now that you’re conscious it’s all just rebounded. For minutes or hours, you lie there on the ground, fully awake, unable to think or move.

At some point, the door opens. You barely register it until shoes enter your vision, and even then, the image is blurred by tears and pain.

Someone squats. Lifts up your chin. You grit your teeth and blink away tears to come face to face with the man you currently loathe most in the world.

“Hello, my queen to be,” the king croons, though now, even he can’t fully disguise the hatred lying behind his eyes. You don’t bother to hide your own—it’s the only thing keeping you up. You note with grim satisfaction that the burns on his face haven’t healed, his skin still red and raw where the dawn burned him, and he isn’t wearing his crown. “It’s time for the evening meal.”

Bizarrely, this reminds you of your first day here. “I’m not hungry,” you mutter, half a smirk curving your lips before it drops. “I don’t feel well.”

“Of course you don’t.” He laughs in your face. “You will soon, however.” From somewhere to the side, he produces a goblet. “Drink.”

You sneer. “How am I to know whether or not that’s poison?”

“I wouldn’t poison my wife to be, no matter how terribly she treated me.” Mock hurt flashes across his face and you want to slap him. “This is enchanted water from the fountain that was to be your wedding gift, Your Highness. It will heal you completely.” He leans in closer. “You will marry me, and you will bear my child. You have no choice.”

You spit in his face.

“Such unladylike behavior.” He tuts, wiping away a drop of spit with an almost careless finger. “Do you not want to be well?”

You’d give almost anything to get rid of the pain. In fact, you’re seconds away from giving in. But he doesn’t need to know that. So you say nothing.

He beckons to someone outside of your line of sight. Before you understand what’s happening your head jerks back by someone else’s hand, another hand forcing your mouth open as the king himself pours the contents of the goblet down your throat.

Choking and spluttering, swallowing in spite of yourself, the first thing you think is that this tastes like normal water. Then a warming sensation begins to filter through your body, spreading slowly through your limbs, and slowly but surely, the screaming in your legs stops and you feel them straighten without your will.

Your mouth fills with a bitter aftertaste. You’re not sure if it was the water, or just your mind trying to turn your tears into something as bitter as your loathing. The pain is gone, your thoughts are clear, and you wish they weren’t.

If you were just a little stronger, maybe they wouldn’t have been able to treat you like this.

“Still hoping for your lover to save you?” The king laughs coldly, icy fingers cupping your cheek. “He can’t come here anymore, you know. We found where he came in and we sealed the cracks. Right now, my people are combing the forest, ready to serve his heart to me on a silver platter.” He smiles like the bitterness in your mouth hasn’t turned to something rotten that tastes like blood, like your heart isn’t beating painfully fast even as you fight to keep your expression neutral. “I will save you, Your Highness. Day and night I will clip your wings, then grow them again—all so that you can stay with me.” His smile widens. “Romantic, isn’t it?”

Briefly, you weigh the merits of throwing up on him. You've already spat on him twice. But you don’t have the energy, so you do nothing, hatred for the king and yourself burning in your chest. You focus on the burns on his face, on his neck, reminding yourself that he is mortal, that for all his seeming power he can be hurt—

Wait. You almost frown before schooling your expression back into one of hatred. If he has this enchanted water, why doesn’t he use it on himself? If it could heal your two broken legs in minutes, surely it would heal him in no time? Something doesn’t seem right about that, but the king speaks before you can take the train of thought any further.

“Have her dressed,” he says, gesturing to someone else in the room. “Then take her to the banquet hall.” He takes your arms and drags you up and your first instinct is to shove him away, but then you stumble on your newly-healed legs and fall back into him anyway.

He ignores your attempt, his eyes boring into yours, his lips curving slowly. Knife blades and blood. “We can’t go without our evening entertainment, after all.”

. . .

For some reason, you’re dressed even more lavishly tonight, given a gown of the smoothest silk you've ever felt, jewelry with the largest gems you’ve ever seen. You sit quiet and miserable as silent servants do your makeup, then slip on yet another dark pair of slippers on your feet. Briefly you wonder what they did with the clothes you came here in, the white robes and Chan’s lovely shoes.

What wouldn’t you give for them over these ostentatious ornaments.

Your legs, though healed, still tremble when you put weight on them. Logically you know they must be fine, but you can’t shake the feeling that they are still injured, that bone shards aren’t still poking out of your skin, that you shouldn’t be able to move as easily as you currently do. The high-heeled dance shoes don’t help at all. But because there are guards, and because you are being watched, you force yourself to stand, to walk.

When you reach the banquet hall, it seems as though nothing has changed. You’re not even certain as to whether the court was informed of your escape attempt, because while you garner a few stares and smirks upon your entrance, it’s still no more than you had grown used to before. The king probably didn’t say anything, you conclude through the meal. Doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s lost more control over the situation than he already has, you suppose. They already know he lost his crown. He can’t make it look like you tried to escape, too.

But something does change when the meal is over, and everyone begins to enter the grand ballroom. Because while the king still leads you inside, he doesn’t accompany you to the center of the floor, as he had done before. Instead—

“Dance for us, Your Highness,” he says, smiling cruelly. “We have been deprived of your magical abilities, as you choose not to show them to us. I can only assume you are shy, hm?” He cups your cheek in his cold hand and a little laugh rises from the crowd, making your skin crawl. “I am rather curious about your magic, Your Highness. I saw it when you danced for your Moonlight Festival, and I must confess, I fell in love.”

You take his cold hand, bring it down under the thin guise of holding it gently when you want nothing more than to stab him in the throat. “You did, didn’t you.” Your voice is flat but for some reason it still amuses the court even more.

“Of course I did.” He gestures at the expanse of people around the ballroom. “As I’m sure they all will too, when they get to see the wonder of your art for the first time. So dance for us, Your Highness.” He lets go of your hand. “I will enjoy the spectacle as part of the audience.”

You fight the urge to scoff as you step into the center of the floor, legs trembling. Spectacle. You are not a spectacle, you are a human. But of course he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he’s forcing you to dance on legs that he snapped and healed within twenty four hours. He doesn’t care that you don’t trust your bones as you would on any other day. You’re shaking all over and phantom pains keep running up your legs in spite of the healing water, and the only saving grace of this whole terrible outfit is the long skirt of your dress, hiding the way your legs tremble.

Despite yourself, tears try to force themselves into your eyes. You swallow them down even as despair clogs your throat. He does mean to make a spectacle of you, like a ballerina in a music box—an object meant for only the entertainment of others. It hurts. It hurts so much. And it would be so easy to give up, to give in to the pain and hopelessness of it all, but—

Your mind turns back to Chan, and the last words he spoke to you. “I’m not going to leave you behind.”

He won’t leave you. He’ll be back. You swallow hard. And if you don’t want him to give up, neither can you.

The several nights you danced with the king, you forced yourself not to bring your magic into play. You feared that the overwhelming sadness would only bring more demeaning laughter to the court. But you remember the terror you were able to strike into your guards when you tried to escape, their eyes blown wide like they were truly scared.

Even if it won’t last, even if they will only laugh in the end, you would like them to feel as you have felt over the past several days. If only for a moment.

Hanging your head deliberately, you wait for the music to begin. It doesn’t matter what it is, you’ll spin it into what you need. As if the musicians have sensed how you feel, though, the melody that starts is slow, desolate, and everything you wanted.

And so you let go, injured legs be damned.

The room blurs into a tapestry of black marble and flame. The stares of the crowd become nothing more than pinpricks of light in the distance. The ominous gaze of the king falters and disappears as you whirl around the room, singing emotion through your movements, spinning everything you remember since the night you were kidnapped into a performance on the floor. Confusion, terror, desperation. Disgust, fear, anger. And when it comes time for you to retell Chan’s appearance and the relief and hope that crashed over you—

You look straight into the eyes of the Kereseian king as you spin past.

By the time it’s over, you’re panting with exhaustion, sweat dripping down your brow. The music is slowing, fading into the air, and as it finally stops, you become aware of the world again. Aware of the silence of the room, the stares of the court, the shakiness in your legs that still keeps you hesitant to put your full weight on them. There are tears in your eyes and you’re certain they’ve fallen down your face, too.

Then one person begins to clap. And another. And then another, until the ballroom echoes with quiet applause, despite the fact that you have taken no bow. Instead, you turn to look at the king, who steps forward with something unreadable in his eyes.

“A lovely performance,” he says, the cruel curve of his mouth lifting into half a smile. “Did you make that up on the spot?”

You nod mutely, trying hard not to cry.

“Your talent is great.” It sounds like it might be the first sincere thing he told you in—well, in all the week and a half that you have known each other—but you don’t bother to thank him. “I think I fell in love with you again.”

This time, you scoff out loud. “Your Majesty, don’t insult me. I don’t think you’d know love if it slapped you in the face.”

His eyes darken. “I was going to try and be kind,” he says, voice dangerous. “But you’ve made your stance clear, I see.”

You give him half a smile. “You wouldn’t know kindness if it slapped you in the face either.”

He spins you into frame, crushing your hand in his grip. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispers in your ear. “For by the end of the night, you are mine to keep and enjoy. Whether or not I show you kindness or love…it will never matter. Not to you.”

It’s true. Because you couldn’t care for him even if he had showed you kindness, even if he had showed you whatever it is he thinks is love��he took you from your home, took you from your family, took you from those who loved you most. And it’s even easier to remember that when, at the end of the night, he takes you back to your room stumbling, half-dead, and exhausted, and orders guards to snap your legs again as soon as you enter your quarters.

Everything hurts. Your body is on fire and you can’t stop the tears of pain from pooling on the floor beneath you. But though you bite your lip so hard it draws blood, you take a small, grim satisfaction in that you didn’t scream this time.

. . . . .

It takes the full length of a day or more to reach the earth under with Kereseia lies. Chan sets out at dawn, riding more carefully than his haphazard trip a day ago, and with several short breaks, he reaches the opening the witch showed him when night has already fully set, the sun sunk beneath the horizon.

He stumbles off his horse and barely remembers to picket it before giving him a pat of apology and stepping into the cave. Once inside, he searches for the metallic glow of the silver trees below, but—

The glow isn’t there anymore.

Chan squints into the darkness, anxiety rising in his throat. Keeping one hand carefully against the wall of the cave, he ventures further inside. After some trouble he finds the two rocks that had signaled the entrance before, but when he feels between them, all he touches is solid earth. As if the opening never existed.

Panic nearly shuts off his mind. He places his head in his hands and tries to think beyond the imminent mental breakdown. The king has obviously sealed off this entrance, and Chan wouldn’t put it past him to have gone through the kingdom and sealed anything that might even be the slightest opening to the earth’s surface.

Chan nearly curses out loud. Also almost punches the wall, but forces himself not to at the last second—who knows who is watching out here, where the king could have eyes in this darkness? He sinks down onto the cave floor, placing his head in his hands as he tries to breathe. Why didn’t he think that this would happen? It’s so obvious now that he thinks of it—of course the king would try to find where he came in from after he managed to get in.

Several frustrated tears roll down Chan’s cheek, but he wipes them away harshly. This opening is closed. More likely than not, any others have also been sealed. He has no way of finding another unless it’s by pure luck—and luck hasn’t been on his side for a while—and he can’t easily go around trying to find one anyway, not when it’s dark and Kereseian guards have probably been scouring the area for him—

The guards.

His eyes widen. They have to get back into the kingdom somehow. If he can find one of them and stay hidden...

He might just be able to follow one back into Kereseia.

A rush of hope warms his chest but he swallows it down. No use in hoping unless he can actually find one of them, now. But at least it’s a straw to grasp at.

For the next few hours, Chan quietly passes through the area of the woods, clutching the clasp of the cloak at his throat. He doesn’t hear a sound, though, beyond the usual murmurings of a forest at night, nor does he see anything particularly strange, even when he decides to climb a tree and watch the ground below for a while. As the hours pass, the sky lightens, and when the sky is a dusty gray Chan almost gives up. Any guards have probably already returned underground, and he’s lost his only lead—

A dark shadow rushes past the corner of his vision. Chan whirls around, clapping a hand over his mouth, to see the black uniform of the Kereseian guard disappearing into the distance.

Heart in his throat, Chan strides as quietly as he can over soft grass and dirt until he’s ten paces behind the guard. Praying, praying that the guard doesn’t notice him, he follows until they reach a small clearing in the woods. The guard mutters something under her breath and places a hand to the grass.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then a harsh, orange glow flares from the earth, the ground clearing until a small staircase appears, circling underground.

With every step, Chan thinks the guard will hear him. He doesn’t dare believe luck is on his side. But they reach the bottom of the staircase without trouble, the guard muttering expletives about damned humans and damned king, and Chan finally lets himself breathe just until they emerge from a tiny door and Chan nearly barrels headfirst into several other guards. He barely stops himself in time, but even then, one of them looks around suspiciously, like she felt something in the wind.

Chan holds himself stock still, not daring to even breathe as the three guards begin to talk, winding their way back to the palace. The dark streets of Kereseia look even more unsettling than when he first saw them, cold lamps shining overhead, the strange silver trees casting strange glows onto the ground. The people of Kereseia walk freely through the streets, and it takes all of Chan’s concentration not to bump into anyone while still keeping the three guards in his line of sight. This entrance is considerably further from the palace than the one the witch told him about, and Chan’s feet are beginning to hurt a little by the time the imposing dark gates of the palace come into view.

But something is strange. Chan squints, almost bumping into one of the guards. “What’s that?” he hears one of them ask, echoing his thoughts. It almost looks like small clouds of…black dust, or something, are rising from the palace. As they get closer, the gates opening to greet them, it only becomes more evident, and Chan hears faint crashing inside, too.

Oh. Oh, no. His heart stops.

“The center of magic being pulled away from the kingdom will already lend to its collapse.”

“Was that a literal collapse? Or just metaphorical?”

“Literal.”

The palace is collapsing. Chan looks left, right—it seems anyone with sense has left. Even the three guards he entered with are sounding cries of alarm, already beginning to run out of the gates. There is no one at the palace door. No one to let him in, not that he could even ask—

The doors groan open, and several people come running out, screaming. Chan wastes no time.

He sprints inside.

. . . . .

The second night of torture begins much the same as the first. The king comes inside and force feeds you a goblet of enchanted water. The burns still litter his face and neck, but you have barely enough time to wonder why he doesn’t drink the water himself before he’s whisking out of the room, leaving someone else to prop you up on your shaky legs and primp you for the evening festivities.

You feel sick the whole time, as usual. No one speaks to you but the king, as usual. You dance alone for the entertainment of the court. He takes you as his partner next, and you exchange barbed words as he dances with you hour after hour after hour.

But then the ground shakes beneath your feet, right as the last waltz is about to start. The ceiling seems to tremble above you. You stumble on your shaky legs, but the king’s grasp on your hand doesn’t let you fall. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, his gaze riveted on the ground trembling underneath his toes.

All around you, shrieks of confusion and surprise have begun to permeate the air. You ignore them, gaze fixed solely on the king’s face that is growing stormier and stormier by the second. “The ball is over!” he shouts above the din. “Return to your homes.”

“What is happening?” you demand as the ground gives another shake. This time, the king lets you go, and you barely manage to keep your balance. “Why is the ground shaking?”

He sneers. “Because of your little lover,” he snarls. “He’s taken my crown. The seat of Kereseia’s power is too far away, and the palace is collapsing for it. Don’t worry though, darling.” His lips curve into a wide, insane smile. “I’ll escape. But you won’t.”

In the time it takes you to understand what he means, two guards have already grabbed your arms. You writhe and screech, twisting and biting, but their grip is iron. The king laughs, catching your chin between his cruel, cold hands. “It’s such a shame, Your Highness. If you had kept your father’s side of the bargain and just been my pretty wife, instead of having your lover rescue you like some ill-fated hero, you might have lived. But no.” He sneers. “You think your lover is coming back for you now, under this heap of rubble? No. You will be buried here forever, and I will simply have to find another partner.” His expression mocks you as he tilts his head, feigning thought. “What is your second sister’s name…Yeji? I’m sure she will make a fine wife.”

“You—” Rage blinds your vision and you scream, a raw, breathless sound that echoes off the walls.

The king only laughs in your face. “Take her to her room, and snap her legs,” he says, waving a hand like he’s just asked for another glass of wine at dinner. “I think I’ll leave your wedding gift intact, hm? If only you could escape. If only you had another to dance with.” He cackles, high and loud, and turns around. “If only you could dance in the first place.”

He’s going to break your legs. He’s going to bury you here. He’s going to keep the magic of the stairs intact at least until it collapses on its own, to taunt you—because if you had your legs, if you had a partner, you could leave. But you won’t. You won’t have your legs and you’ll have no one to save you and he knows it. Relishes it.

“MONSTER!” you scream.

He doesn’t even deign to look at you in reply.

You fight the entire way. You kick, writhe, scratch, twist and bite anything you can reach. But in the end, there is nothing, only the pain of two broken legs without the bliss of unconsciousness as pieces of the ceiling begin to fall around you. Sick to your stomach, you cling to the only hope you have left.

Chan, I know you will return.

Please don’t be too late.

. . . . .

By the time Chan reaches your rooms, rubble has already covered the halls, dust rising in the air and choking him until he raises his cloak to his face. The foundations groan beneath his feet, the ground cracking as he sprints across the floor, but he keeps going even as chunks of ceiling begin to fall all around him.

He’s so close. So far. With every turn he takes, every chunk of stone he dodges, he fears he might be too late. But he is not leaving this palace without you.

He isn’t too late. He can’t be.

A chunk of marble the size of his fist crashes to the floor just as he skids to a stop at your door. He digs frantically in his bag for the key, the key he took instead of the ruby—and now he knows it was the right decision. If he’d even managed to succeed with the ruby, what would it matter if he’d failed to take you again, and he had to return with no key? His fingers close around the slim silver key and he twists it in the lock with a prayer to any god listening above.

Something clicks. Chan swings the door open, rips off his cloak, and meets your eyes.

“Y/N,” he breathes. “Gods and stars above, Y/N—”

“Chan?” You cough on the dust, and Chan immediately rushes to your side. “Chan—I—how did you get back here?" you gasp. “He said he sealed all the openings—gods, I prayed you would come but I never though—”

“I followed a guard,” Chan says, trying not to stare at the sight of your disfigured legs splayed out on the ground. “I got in but—Y/N, what happened—”

“He broke my legs.”

Chan blinks. Blinks again.

"He healed them every night he wanted me to dance.” Your words fall to the floor, brittle, cracked, broken. “And when the night was over, he would break them again. So I couldn’t run away.” Tears roll down your face but you laugh, an empty noise devoid of mirth that scares Chan more than the groaning of the floor beneath him. “When the palace began to collapse, he threw me in here and did it one last time. So I wouldn’t escape.”

Rocks have begun to thud on the ground around you two, but all Chan can hear is the roaring of blood in his ears. Fury clenches his hands into fists and it’s all can do to stop himself from punching a hole in the floor—save it, he tells himself with more restraint than he thought he had. Save it for when you meet him. “How did he heal you?” Chan asks instead, ignoring the shake in his voice.

“Enchanted water.” You have to raise your ragged voice above the sound of the palace crumbling beneath you. “The fountain outside.”

Chan blinks. The fountain outside—the one that had been at the base of the staircase where you danced the first time you tried to escape. He knows where it is. He glances between you and the door. He could leave you here and bring back the water, but what if the room collapses before he can get back? “I’m going to have to carry you,” he says grimly, feeling his heart crack with the way your lips tighten. “I’m sorry. I can’t leave you in here.”

You take a deep breath. Close your eyes, then open them once more. “Do it.”

As quickly as he dares, Chan slides one arm under your thighs and another under your back. “One, two, three—”

He lifts you up. You let out a strangled noise and latch onto his neck, holding so tight it’s a little hard to breathe, but Chan doesn’t complain, only throws himself out the door as fast as he can. He’s halfway down the hall when a crash sounds behind the two of you, coming right from the room you just abandoned.

“There.”

Your voice drags him out of his stupor and he looks to where you’re pointing, the familiar round atrium with a fountain set in the middle. Chan hurries as fast as he can, narrowly dodging a fist-sized piece of marble that hits his leg instead. “Shit.”

“My family wouldn’t approve of that language.” Your voice, though faint, still holds the slightest hint of a smile and Chan nearly cries. You’re not fully gone. Not just yet.

“We’ll worry about my language when we get out of here.” When, not if, Chan reminds himself as he lowers you to the ground. “Give me a moment.”

The fountain has stopped running, but a fair amount of water remains in the bowl. His fingers fumble with the flask in his bag but he finally manages to tug it free and fill it as full as he can. “Here,” he says, tipping the water to your lips. “Come on, Y/N.”

You empty a quarter of the flask before you push his hand away. “That’s enough,” you say, voice a little clearer. “I can’t taste that anymore.” Gripping the side of the fountain, you drag yourself up on unsteady legs that have already healed. “Let’s go.”

"Didn’t you say he sealed the openings?” Chan asks over the rumble of the palace falling around him. “Even if we leave the palace, I don’t know if I can recreate the opening where the guards came in from.”

“Here.” You stare at the fountain, then at the circle of stones surrounding it. “We’ll leave from here.”

Chan blinks. “How do you know it’ll work?”

“He said he’d keep it intact. Until it fell on its own, anyway. Because he thought it was the most amusing thing in the world, having a clear exit open for me—as long as someone healed my legs, and would dance with me. Neither of which he thought would ever happen.” You laugh once, a sound devoid of amusement, as your gaze fractures with memories of something Chan wasn’t here for. The voice that leaves your throat is brittle, cracked when you speak again. “We should go.” Despite your words, though, you don’t move.

“Y/N?” He peers into your eyes, into the fragmented expression that terrifies him more than anything he’s encountered during his time here. “Y/N, are you—”

“Chan.” Your voice breaks, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Chan, I don’t want to dance anymore.”

His heart splits. Shatters. Falls to the floor in pieces that mix with the marble dust littering the ground. Then it resurrects itself, fused together with a flame of fury that Chan takes care not to show as he takes your hands, forcing his voice to stay steady. “One step at a time,” he soothes, even as he rages internally at the fact that the king took so much away from you, your family, your liberty, and now even your love for dance. “Just like the other times, yeah?” Never mind that they’ve danced with each other a total of two times, one of which was their last failed escape. Chan’s heart hammers in his chest but he grips your hand a little tighter, lets the other rest loosely on your shoulder so you can shrug him away whenever you need. “Just guide me,” he whispers. “I’ll follow. Always.”

“Follow,” you murmur, so softly Chan almost doesn’t hear you. “He always made me follow.” You blink once. Twice. “You want me to lead?”

“Why not?” Even as the ceiling groans, Chan smiles. “I’ll follow your lead.”

For a moment, it feels as though the world stops as the implication of his words hangs over your heads.

I’ll follow you everywhere you go, even into the depths of hell.

You take a deep breath. Look up into his eyes with a gaze still cracked, but a little less so than before. “I’ll lead,” you say, squeezing his hand. Your other hand goes to his back, resting on his shoulder blade the way you danced at the festival just days ago. “I’ll lead.”

“One step at a time,” Chan reminds you softly. His lips quirk. “And I’m sorry if I step on your toes.”

You don’t smile. Not quite. But the barest hint of a sparkle finds its way into your eyes, more of the glass cracks sealing themselves once more.

“Ready?” You take a deep breath. “One, two, three...”

And you dance.

. . . . .

Your heart leaps into your throat the second you step onto one of the circles. Rocks are flying overhead, the very stone beneath your feet unstable as all hell, but you force yourself to breathe, to guide Chan around the cracks in the marble as you begin to weave your way across the stones.

For several terrible minutes, nothing happens. The circular steps don’t rise. The ground continues to rumble. With every step you take you can feel yourself faltering, angry tears running down your face. The king lied. He had no intention of allowing you even the minutest attempt at escape. He’s taken away your life, your love for dance, all that you had in this underground hell, and now he’s going to take Chan’s life too.

But Chan keeps dancing. Keeps stepping gracefully, keeps following you, and what can you do but continue? He’s trusting you now, just as you trusted him to return. So despite the tears and the terror, you force yourself to keep moving. Keep dancing.

And, after what feels like an eternity, you begin to feel yourself rising.

A shaky gasp bursts from your lips. Between the tears you can barely see where you’re going, but as the circular stones continue to rise you force yourself to focus. It wouldn’t do to trip here and fall, not when you’re so close but so far. Chan’s arms do wonders to hold you up on your unsteady legs, made worse by the shaking of the stone beneath you. For all you’re leading him, he’s the one lending you the strength to keep going.

You're so grateful he's here. So grateful you are no longer alone.

The vaulted ceiling finally groans open, letting in the gray-pink light of the sun. You almost collapse right then and there, but you don’t. Instead, you take Chan on a last few dizzying spins onto the final stone circle before leaping onto the solid earth outside. Only then do you let yourself go, falling to the grass with Chan in one unceremonious tumble, hands still clutching each other tight.

For a moment, you let yourself breathe, taking in the pale light of dawn in the sky, letting its rays caress your skin. Slowly, you force yourself to sit just as Chan also rises, never once letting go of your hand on the way. Then somehow you’re in his arms and he’s in yours and you’re—not sobbing, the sounds being ripped from your throats are something beyond tears and cries—but you’re crushing him close, as close as you can with your trembling arms, and trying to believe that you’re free. That you’ve escaped. Kereseia is collapsing and you won’t ever have to go back.

“Chan,” you gasp. “Chan, I—”

“Shh,” he whispers into your ear, voice shaking as much as yours. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Just then, the earth rocks a little beneath your bodies. You both freeze.

“The palace is still falling,” you say, wiping away tears. “The ground must also be unstable. We should leave.”

Chan nods. “I have a horse. Let's go.”

. . .

You don’t make it there.

As Chan leads you through the grass and trees, two pairs of feet dragging to where he remembers leaving his horse, a sharp scuffling noise sounds in a nearby grove. Warily, you look at Chan, who looks back. “Should we—” you start to ask before an unwelcome figure materializes out of the trees and sends you reeling backward into Chan, a scream cut short in your throat.

The king looks—terrible. Far worse than you last saw him, which can’t have been very long ago—only a few hours, maybe. At most. And yet every bit of his exposed skin looks raw and red, angry burns peppered along his throat and face despite him standing mostly in the shadow of the trees, out of reach of the brightest rays of dawn. Even though he wears the same clothes as when he left you to die in that palace, he looks smaller in them. More haggard.

It doesn’t diminish the hatred in his eyes, though.

On instinct you push Chan slightly behind you, stepping forward even as your heart threatens to leap out of your throat. “What are you doing here?” you hiss.

“I could ask the same of you.” The king smirks, though the expression looks more like a grimace than anything else. “I thought I’d never see you again, Your Highness.”

“I could say the same for you,” you reply, acid on your tongue. “Though I didn’t just think, I hoped.”

Behind you, Chan chokes on something that sounds almost like laughter. The sound lends you a little hope. But then it dies away just as quickly, because even though the king looks severely weakened, he still has power. He still has the ruby necklace. You don’t really know what he can do with that power—he’s never actually shown them to you, beyond when he teleported you to his kingdom—but there was a reason his family was cursed underground. It can’t have been because they were harmless.

“So your lover did come back for you.” The king shoots a hateful glance at Chan, who only steps forward to meet it. “I can’t tell if you are brave, or just plain stupid.”

“Faithful,” you correct.

“No sense of self preservation.” The king laughs.

“Not as if you have much either,” Chan says slowly. “Not when you’re standing in the sunlight.”

The king sneers, though for the first time, you don’t pay attention to it. Chan’s words made you remember something. While the king had forced you to drink the fountain’s water to heal your legs, he never took any of it for his burns, which you remember finding strange. “It’s too bad you don’t have any of that enchanted water to heal you, yes?” You force a laugh, carefully eyeing the king’s reaction.

It happens in less than a second. If you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed. But the king flinches, ever so slightly, before he regains his sneering composure.

An inkling of an idea begins to form in your mind. “Water,” you hiss to Chan out of the corner of your mouth, angling your hand behind you. You school your face into neutral hatred, praying that he heard you, and praying that the king didn’t. “Why are you out here in the sunlight, Your Majesty? If it hurts you so much, shouldn’t you be sheltering underground?”

“Yes,” Chan chimes in, pressing the flask into your hand. Your fingers close around it as he continues. “Your palace fell, but surely the rest of your kingdom is safe?”

“My reason is standing right before me.” A manic gleam enters the king’s eye. “You have my crown, don’t you, lover boy? The seat of my power?” He steps forward and instinctively you step back. “Or if you don’t have it here with you now, you know where it is, don't you?”

Chan scoffs, though you hear the hitch in his voice. “Even if I did, I’d die before you got it out of me.”

“Oh, you might die without issue.” A smile curves the king’s lips, sending chills up your spin. Your grip tightens around the flask. “But how long would you last if you had to see your dear princess hurt?”

It happens in a second. The king leaps. Chan yells. But strangely, your heart remains calm, even as the king’s cold fingers graze your chin—

And you throw the contents of the flask on his face.

Time seems to suspend itself. The king stares at you. You stare at him. His fingers are just barely touching your chin, like he meant to claw off your skin. Which he might have if he didn’t suddenly crumple to the forest floor, screaming in agony.

Your legs give out immediately after. If it weren’t for Chan, you’d have collapsed right next to the writhing mess of a king before you, but Chan grabs you and tugs you back, his eyes riveted on the scene before him.

You can’t look away either. The king’s face seems to be…melting. It’s the only way you can describe it. The raw redness of his skin flares angrier until it looks like he’s—being boiled, or something, you don’t know how you can even put it into words—but the screams of agony grow sharper and louder until they finally begin to die, turning into raw animal sounds of torture and pain as his mouth twists into something unrecognizable. You stand there, clutching Chan, shaking like no tomorrow, until finally the king stops screaming and goes still.

For a long moment, you and Chan just stand, frozen, unable to tear your eyes from the lump of flesh before you that used to be the Kereseian king. Eventually, though you’re able to speak.

“I didn’t think that would happen.”

Then you lean over and throw up on the grass.

Chan’s over you in a second, producing a handkerchief out of nowhere to wipe your lips, raising the remnants of the flask to your mouth to wash out the taste. He’s shaking too, his face a sick shade of green, but he successfully holds himself back from following in your footsteps.

Finally, you have enough strength to stand up on your own. On unsteady legs, you walk over to what used to be the king. The bright red ruby still rests on his chest, glinting sinisterly in the pink sunlight. Before you can second guess yourself, you pull the necklace around the melted form of his head, trying not to gag.

Chan takes the necklace from you and stuffs it into his bag. “Let’s go,” he says gently, turning you away from the body. “Let’s get out of here.”

You don’t object.

. . . . .

You reach the witch’s hut just as night is falling. Chan is reeling with exhaustion and you don’t look much better, nearly falling off the horse when you try to dismount. You catch yourself on him just in time, and then there’s not much time to think before the hut door swings open, washing the two of you in warm light.

“Goodness.” The witch pulls the two of you with surprising strength into the hut, shutting the door firmly behind. “Come inside, my dears. Sit down.”

Despite his exhaustion, Chan pulls out the ruby necklace from his bag and gives it to the witch before collapsing into one of the overstuffed couches with you. She takes it quickly, turning immediately to the crown case, which had been on one of the nearby tables, and presses the gem into the box’s dent. It swings open. Without a second thought, the witch tosses the crown into her fire, along with the necklace. The flames burn bright white for a moment, then die back down to their previous merry orange.

“You are the witch, aren’t you?” you ask, startling Chan. You’d closed your eyes when you sat down and he’d half expected you to have fallen asleep by now. “The one who helped Chan.”

“I am,” she says, bowing low. “I am also honored to be in your presence, princess of Terpsichani.”

You blink. “I—how did you know?”

“While I may live in a hut in the woods, that does not mean I am bereft of knowledge of the times.” The witch smiles kindly. “I am glad to see you safe in your…friend’s arms.”

Chan flushes red. A ghost of your lovely smile plays on your lips when you look at him. “Friend, Chan?”

“I…” Chan swallows, praying his ears aren’t red at least. “I did not know what else to call you, to a stranger.”

“I tease,” you say, the smile growing a little wider as you squeeze his hand. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I will admit, it wasn’t hard to see through it before,” the witch says, and you laugh as Chan buries his face in his palms. “Just as it isn’t hard to see through it now.”

You lower your head a little, as though embarrassed. When you look up, though, you look better than you have the entire day. “Thank you, my lady,” you say, taking the witch’s wrinkled hands between yours. “For all that you have done for us. For helping keep my love safe. Should you come ever come to my kingdom, you need never lift a hand for a thing. You will be most welcome anywhere.”

“The honor is mine,” she replies, her eyes crinkling with her smile. “I thank you for your kindness, but I do not insist upon reward for my actions. The knowledge that the evil of Kereseia is gone, the seat of the royal family’s power crushed, is enough.”

You frown slightly. “You sound as though you have experience with the kingdom.”

“She was the one of those who cursed the royal family in the first place,” Chan says. It still awes him that this small woman before him was so powerful.

“...I see.” You rise from your seat, and before either of them can stop you, you give the witch a low bow. “Then I must thank you for your unwavering service, my lady.”

“Do not bow to me, Your Highness.” The witch rushes to seat you again, gently pressing you back into the couch cushions. “Not to me. I only did what I had to. As did you.”

Shadows cross your face, and you look away. Chan takes your hands. Squeezes them against the memories of an evil king, his face half melted away, the dying screams in his ears…

“Enough for now.” The witch stands, gesturing to the two of you. Her eyes are sympathetic. “I will bring you two food and water, and then you must rest. I insist,” she says, though your and Chan’s mouths both open to argue. “You are in no shape to continue riding for days in this state. Rest here, for now, and I will send you on your way come morning.”

You look like you still want to disagree, but Chan remembers how his last attempt at refusing rest went so he just gives you a small smile. “You won’t convince her,” he says quietly. “And we both do need rest. You’re about to fall asleep right here.”

“You’re right,” you acquiesce as the witch bustles off to another area of the hut. “Gods above, I’m tired.”

“Sleep now,” Chan says, guiding your head to his shoulder. “I’ll wake you when there’s food.”

“Alright.” You blink once, twice, slowly. “Thank you, Chan. For everything.”

Warmth floods his chest, giving him the courage to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Of course,” he whispers. “Anything for you.”

. . . . .

It takes a day of riding to reach the outskirts of Terpsichani, and another to reach the capital. When Chan stops the horse at the palace gates, you freeze for a moment. A kingdom doesn’t change much in a week, but even so, everything still feels different.

It was only a week. You nearly laugh. How could so much have happened in so little time?

The second you dismount the horse everything turns into a frenzy. People shouting, crying, trying to lead you this way and that—noise pummeling your ears, words bouncing off your skull. Someone tries to separate you and Chan and you only pull him closer, not even thinking about what this might look like to those who don’t know of your love. In this moment, he is safety. He is peace. He is the rope you cling to in the ocean of this overwhelming return.

Then the crowd parts for someone and in the midst of it all you lock eyes with Yeji. Her expression, initially disbelieving, crumples into something beyond relief and you feel your eyes beginning to well with tears as she leaps forward, crushing you into a hug. For seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours you stay locked in her embrace, cherishing the feeling of her arms around you, her face pressed into your shoulder.

When you pull away, the crowd has quieted at your display of affection. Yeji’s attention shifts from yours to someone behind you—Chan, you realize—and before you know it, she’s walked forward and crushed him in a hug not unlike yours.

Your heart melts as Chan glances at you over her shoulder, bewildered confusion in his eyes. It’s okay, you mouth, and slowly that confusion turns into a soft relief that allows him to put his arms around her as well.

Your other sisters come running down the hall, then, along with Chaeyoung, their cries of surprise and relief echoing in your ears moments before they bury you in their embrace too. And for a little while, especially after Yeji joins your hug and pulls Chan into it too, all is right in the world.

Too soon, though, someone clears their throat. You fight the urge to snap. You want nothing more than to scream foul words at the person who did, but it’s probably not their fault, so all you do is wipe your eyes and turn towards them.

It turns out to be your father’s chief advisor, who wears an expression of half shock, half disbelief. You don’t blame him. You still feel the same way too.

“Your Highness.” He bows low. “Please allow me to congratulate you upon your return.”

It doesn’t sound like much to congratulate you on, but you can appreciate how hard it is to politely phrase I’m glad you have escaped after being kidnapped by the ruler of the kingdom of hell, so you just try to smile. “Thank you.”

“Your father has received word of your return,” he continues, oblivious to how your heart immediately plummets to your stomach. “He would like to see you, when you are rested and refreshed.”

Your father. You swallow hard. The man who, if the Kereseian king is to be believed, made the deals that landed you in the kingdom of hell in the first place. The man who failed to warn you or do even the slightest thing to prepare you—whatever preparation means in this situation—for what would happen. Even though he could have.

With effort, you don’t clench your fists. Though you want nothing more than to refuse the invitation and retire to your rooms, he is the king. And you are a princess. Which means you must act as one, no matter how the adrenaline of your return is starting to wear off, no matter how hard exhaustion is beginning to hit instead. “Then tell him I will see him now,” you say, voice as steady as you can keep it. You gesture to Chan. “Please see to it that he is given refreshment. Rooms are to be made up for his convenience of rest. Yeji, have someone assigned to wait on him, please.”

“Y/N—Your Highness.” Chan corrects himself on your name and it almost sends you reeling. He can’t call you by your name here, you know that and he does, but gods and stars above you wish he could. “You don’t need to do all of this for me.”

You look at him steadily. “Chan, there is nothing I could do in the world that would be enough to repay you for you saving me.”

A gasp ripples through the hall. You bite back a frown, turning to Yeji. Did you say something wrong? She must know. What did I miss? you ask with your eyes.

“If I may.” Yeji looks to your father’s chief advisor. “I would like to speak with my sister before she meets our father. It will only be a minute.”

He bows shortly. “As you wish, Your Highnesses.”

The crowd slowly begins to disperse, and Yeji walks you to an empty room. Your other sisters disperse but Chaeyoung follows, beckoning a confused Chan with her. It gives you a little comfort to know that someone else is as lost as you. “Did something happen?” you ask as soon as Chaeyoung shuts the door.

“When Father was informed you were kidnapped, he issued…a challenge, of sorts, to the nobility and royalty of this kingdom and others beyond,” Yeji says carefully. “He promised great reward to the one who would bring you back alive.”

An uneasy feeling begins to spread through your chest. “What did he promise?” you ask quietly.

“Your hand in marriage,” Chaeyoung replies.

After a moment's thought, you realize this wasn't unexpected. How many fairy tales have gone the same way? But you never expected to live a fairy tale yourself so the news still hits you like a punch in the gut and you almost have to steady yourself on the wall. You look at Chan, heart in your throat. “Did you—did you know of this?” you ask, hardly daring to hear the answer.

“I did,” Chan replies, equally quiet. “Her Highness told me, when she came to ask for my aid.”

“And he would have done it without the knowledge that your hand might await his,” Yeji cuts in, her eyes sharp. “You know that, Y/N.”

You do. A deep breath escapes your lips, relief gusting out of you all at once at the reminder. You do know that, know deep within your heart that the minute Chan heard you had disappeared, he would have set out to find you, reward or none. “I do,” you say quietly, meeting Chan’s eyes. He hangs his head, looking almost ashamed, but you take his hands. “You said you would follow me anywhere,” you murmur, tangling your fingers together. “I know you would, regardless what awaited you at the end.”

He squeezes your fingers, a tiny smile on his lips. “I would,” he replies. “Until the end of time.”

“The thing is, he didn’t issue this declaration publicly,” Yeji interrupts. “He announced it to nobility and royalty. I was the one who informed Chan first, but I didn’t know that our father only meant it to be for those of magic blood until later.” Her eyes turn to yours, wide and meaningful.

In your muddled state of mind, it takes you a moment to understand. But when you do, anger begins to burn in your chest.

He meant for a noble to find you. A royal. Someone of the so-called right blood, someone who would inherit the throne with you without issue or scandal. Someone sure to have magic in their veins. Not one of the commonfolk. Certainly not a cobbler.

You almost scream. How is this any different from you being married to the king of hell?

This time, you can’t stop yourself from clenching your fists. “I will have no hand but his,” is all you manage to say. “Magical or not.”

“I know,” Yeji replies, putting a hand on your shoulder. “And I will support you, as will our sisters. But you needed to know, so that Father would not blindside you.”

Fury nearly does blind you then, angry thoughts whirling through your skull. Your father made a deal with the kingdom of hell. When he couldn’t keep the first he made a second, and doomed you to a life of agony in the cold underground. To right the second he issued a challenge to give away your hand to the first who would succeed, and in the end, the challenge was only for a select few, and not for the one who found you, who loved you, and whom you’d already given your heart to.

You swallow hard around the furious lump in your throat. “I understand,” you say. “I will speak to him accordingly.”

“Y/N.” Your name from Chan’s voice cuts through the mess of anger in your mind. You turn to him. “I won’t have you go through more trouble because of me,” he says quietly. His eyes are soft, sad, but he speaks clearly even though he can’t quite look you in the face. “This is not worth as much trouble as it is.”

“You’re wrong.” Two steps forward, and with a surprised gasp from him you’ve locked Chan in your embrace once more. “You’re wrong,” you say again in his ear. “You are worth the moon, the stars. You are worth everything I have to give in this godforsaken world, worth every battle I will have to fight for your hand. Do not even suggest that you are not.” You pull away, your eyes soft. “You fought hell to save me from its clutches. Now, please, Chan.”

His eyes, full of unshed tears, stare back into yours.

Heart in your throat, you wipe a single tear from the side of his face. “Let me fight for you.”

. . .

Just weeks ago you stood in front of your father’s door just like you do now, arm raised, about to knock. The memory curves your lips, bittersweet, as you rap your knuckles against the wood.

“Come in,” his voice sounds. You enter the room.

Immediately your father’s eyes widen, like he didn’t quite believe the news that you had returned. Relief crashes over his features and his voice, always so steady in your memory, trembles as he rounds his desk to wrap you in a hug. “Y/N,” he says. “I am glad you have returned.”

If you hadn't known about his role in the contract with Kereseia, you might have hugged him back, perhaps even shed a few tears on his shoulder. For all the coldness with which he treated you over years past, he seems truly emotional now. But even though he seems genuine, it can’t erase the knowledge the Kereseian king gave you.

It’s true that the king might have lied. If you had only heard the stories of Kereseia, you might immediately assume this was the case. But over the days you spent with him, you know that while he may have teased you in awful ways, spun little white lies about love that he knew you would never believe, he did not lie about the things that were important. Not the threats. Not the punishments. Besides, it takes two to seal a contract.

Someone had to have done it on your end.

So you don’t return your father’s hug, only stand there stiffly until he lets go. You sit down silently in front of his desk as he returns to his own seat. “I was told you wanted to see me,” you prompt.

“I did.” Your father’s eyes watch you carefully. You force your expression to remain neutral. “Though it could have waited until you were rested.” When you don’t reply, he frowns. “Why do you remain so cold, Y/N? Did I do something to merit your temper?”

In a moment, you’ve stood, fists already clenched. “That’s rich,” you spit, “considering you should know exactly what you did.”

Shock passes over his expression and then he schools it neutrally, to your fury. “Y/N, you do not understand,” he begins. “Your mother and I—”

“Don’t tell me I don’t understand,” you snarl. “I understand very well. I understand that you were the one who signed a contract with the king to sell my own mother off—I understand that you were the one who later signed another contract when the first fell through to sell one of your own daughters off—to a kingdom we all know as having risen from the depths of hell.” You take a sharp breath. “And now I also know that you used my kidnapping as a challenge, to find someone to take my hand in marriage though I never consented to it—I know all of this, and you dare ask me if something you did merits my temper?”

Your father looks slightly pale. It brings you no pleasure to see him like this, sickens you even because it means everything the Kereseian king told you must be true, but you continue. “I will have you know,” you say quietly, “that the one who found me, the one who saved me, was not one of those to whom you issued your challenge. He is not noble. He is not royal. Do you know who he is?” You laugh shortly. “He is our Chan. Our royal cobbler. Someone you probably have not spoken ten words to in your life.” Your father opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “I am going to marry him,” you say quietly. “Not because of your disgusting decree. But because he loves me, and I love him, and I refuse to have any other hand but his.”

“You are not well,” your father says, and the dismissiveness in his voice nearly slaps you backward. “You are tired, and not thinking straight. You need rest, and then we will speak again.”

You gape. You never thought that your father would accept this easily, but to just dismiss it out of hand? Just like that? “I don’t need rest!” you yell. “I need you to listen to me—”

“You are not in your right mind!” he snaps. “You know as well as I do that one without magic cannot inherit the throne. You need time to clear your thoughts—”

A laugh escapes your lips, a hysterical sound devoid of mirth. “I have never thought as clearly as I currently am,” you snarl. “You are my father! I am your daughter. You bargained me off to the vilest kingdom on earth so that you would have an heir, you failed to tell me anything that might have prepared me for it, you got both of my legs broken for three days straight for a psychopath who would do anything to keep me from escape, and then to fix that you sold off my hand to the first one who might find me and now when I tell you I want that man to marry me, you refuse!” You laugh again and the sound hurts your throat as it comes up, raw and choking. “You haven’t even apologized!”

Something flashes across your father’s expression, but he masks it too quickly for you to decipher it. “I am sorry, Y/N, for what you went through.” Rage flashes through you—what you went through, like he wasn’t the reason it all happened—“But you are not thinking straight. We will speak later, when you have had time to calm down.”

You choke on your own words, finally feeling an angry tear cascade down your face. “I will have no one but Chan,” you hiss. “Know this, Father. I will fight tooth and nail on this until the very end.” You swing the door open and step out, slamming it shut behind you.

Outside, Chaeyoung waits, pale-faced and wide-eyed. She probably heard everything. “Chaeyoung,” you say, forcing yourself to rein in your tone, “Schedule an audience with my father tomorrow. Make sure Chan is there.” You pause. “In fact, make sure the entire court is there.”

She blanches. “Your Highness, are you sure this is wise?”

“Was my father’s hare-brained decision to send me to that kingdom of hell wise?” You ignore her stifled gasp and continue. “Chan is to be well cared for until then. If he desires to return home, he may. I only ask that he be part of the audience tomorrow. Ensure that he is in proper attire, and tell him that I will speak to him before we enter the chamber, so that he knows what might happen.”

Chaeyoung nods quickly. “If I may, Your Highness…what do you plan to do?”

You smile a little then, though it surely does not reach your eyes. “My father likes to break contracts, it seems,” you say. “I’m just going to break another for him.”

. . . . .

Chan stands in the throne room, fighting the urge to fidget. It’s not just because of the strange looks being cast upon him the longer he stands here, nor the strange clothes a servant gave him to wear when he came to the palace. That, he can somewhat ignore.

He can’t ignore the king’s baleful stare on him across the room, though.

Chan takes a deep breath, remembering what you said to him before you entered the room. “My father refused to hear that I wanted to wed you,” you told him first. “He said that I was not in my right mind. But I know I was.” Your gaze, so fiery then, had softened. “Allow me to fight for us, Chan. I will win, or fall trying.”

What could he do in the face of your determination but agree?

Still, though, he can’t help but feel out of place as the court comes to order. The king’s advisor announces you, and you walk forward. “Your Majesty,” you say, bowing low.

“Your Highness, and my heir.” The king’s eyes don’t waver as you rise. “Announce your intention for this audience.”

You turn to address the crowd. For a moment, your eyes meet his, and Chan feels himself relax slightly as your lips curve into just barely a smile. “I have come before my father’s court, escaped from the kingdom of hell, to announce my intention to marry.”

A gasp rises from the audience. Your father’s eyebrows furrow. “The one I wish to marry is not of magic blood,” you announce, and the whispers grow louder. “But he is the one who saved me from Kereseian clutches. And he is the one to whom I have given my heart.”

The king seems to grit his teeth. “Daughter, you know that one with no magic in their blood cannot join the royal family.”

“And yet you issued a decree, Father.” Your low voice trembles with rage, so much grief and betrayal as you stare at the man who was supposed to love you, to protect you as his daughter, but failed in the end and lost you to the depths of fire and hell. “A decree that the one who found me and brought me back would have my hand in marriage in return.”

The king stares back, impassive. “The decree was not meant for the common folk,” he says, slow, clear. “I don’t know how your cobbler heard of it, but he should have known it was not meant for him.”

Knife blades scratch the walls as your sharp laugh echoes through the room. Chan winces as the sound scrapes through his ears, joining the resounding clack of your heels clicking cold on the marble floor. “Let us not consider right now the fact that you sought to sell my hand in marriage away to the first one who would find me,” you spit, acid in your voice. “I wonder if you made your stipulations evident enough, even to those who heard your decree, considering the only one who found me is of no magic blood.”

It’s the king’s turn for a mirthless laugh to suffocate the air. “If he loves you as much as you say, your poor cobbler boy would have snatched any opportunity at life with you, no matter how absurd.”

All eyes turn to him. Chan stares resolutely ahead at the white marble walls though his shoulders ache to curl in out of embarrassment and shame, red-eared, red-faced shame at the publicity of his love—but there is nothing to be ashamed of, he reminds himself, no shame in loving someone as wonderful and beautiful as you. No shame at having succeeded in a task where all others failed.

There is still that sharp sting of being used as a pawn in the king’s desperate attempt to right a terrible mistake, however.

“And I suppose you would now take advantage of that.” You shake your head. “Take advantage of that cobbler’s loyalty, his love, his life—”

“It would have been foolish for him to hope at a chance with you,” the king interrupts. “Cobblers don’t marry princesses.”

Chan’s shoulders finally slump. The red creeps across his cheeks, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. The king is right, here—cobblers don’t marry princesses. Especially not cobblers without magic.

The silence that follows the king’s declaration is deafening. Every pair of eyes fixed on him weighs heavy on Chan’s shoulders, dragging him down, down, down. He doesn’t want to be here. Shouldn’t be here in the first place. He swallows hard, ready to slip out of the crowd and make his retreat before he hears anything more.

But then you turn your head. Meet his eyes.

And between all the grief and fury dancing in your pupils, Chan sees a smile, then silent words playing on your lips.

I’m not going to leave you behind.

An echo of the promise he once made you in a castle set in the depths of hell, your hand desperately gripping his.

“You think he came for me in an attempt at marriage?” And here your laugh cackles vindictive between the marble walls, so sharp and cold but with a touch of fiery warmth that soothes the lash of shame crawling up Chan’s spine as you look back at your father. “You truly think so?”

Only the sound of soft breaths interrupts the silence in the hall.

“My cobbler would have come for me whether or not you had issued the decree,” you declare, and in your step forward Chan feels terror, uncertainty, crushing relief—emotions, he realizes, all of the emotions you felt before and when he arrived. “Because he loves me. Cares for me.”

Every eye in the room follows the sharp snap of your arm forward, one finger extended toward the man sitting on the throne. Every spine shudders at the vindictive anger you threw into the air with that one movement.

“More than you,” you whisper, voice a terrifying contrast to your blazing eyes. “More than my own father.”

Gasps sound around the court at your audacity but Chan can only watch as you take another step forward, staring your father full in the face. “You made one promise to a mad king of hell and almost doomed my mother to death in flames,” you snarl. “You made another promise to right the first and got my legs snapped in two every night for three nights just so the mad king’s son could have his entertainment. You made a third promise to right the second and now you tell me it was one you never intended to keep. The one promise that would truly have righted some of the wrongs, and you shirk from this one, too.” The peal of laughter that falls from your lips chills the air with the same icy fire Chan remembers from the hell-castle. “Tell me, Father. How many promises would you break so easily?”

“I—”

“No matter.” Your voice carries over the king’s as you take the last step forward, right to base of the throne. The guards make as though to block you but Chan watches as you flash them a look, a single look and a gesture of your fingers like knives in the air that sends them reeling, horror in their eyes. You ascend the steps until you tower over your sitting father, stone-faced. “When I was born, you made a promise to our goddess. Our deity. Our sacred Mother, the giver of the magic that runs through my veins and yours.”

Your arms rise. Fingers grip the jeweled crown that rests on your head. A gasp begins to run through the crowd again and Chan finds himself stepping forward, a hand reaching out to stop you as he begins to understand just what you mean to do—

You look at him, and in that single second, Chan sees the smirk twitch your lips so very slightly.

He stops.

“You promised I, as your first-born, would be the next heir to the throne of our kingdom.” You lift the circlet from your head and hold it out, letting firelight glitter on the jewels, throwing their shine onto your skin. With your face still as it is, the room completely silent, Chan would have believed it if someone had told him you were the goddess herself. “You made an oath to our goddess that unless an untimely death became me, I would be your heir.”

For the first time, the king’s eyes tremble. Slightly, slightly, but it is more than enough for Chan’s heart to feel that slight vindication, that sharp satisfaction that he’s been craving ever since the king opened his bitter mouth and began speaking.

“Since you seem to enjoy breaking promises so much, I will break this one for you, Father.” You place the crown on his lap with delicate precision. “In the face of this betrayal—that the king of this blessed land would trade his wife to a king and then his daughter to that king's son, would gamble with their lives and those of so many others—I refuse to claim this tainted crown. I can be no blessed heir for such a cursed throne.” Jewel light sparks off your face and the smile painted across your lips. “I am sure the goddess hears this, and I am sure she understands.”

A clatter and a clang sound on the marble as the crown falls and a flinch carries through the crowd as the king stands, fire blazing in his eyes. “You—”

The voice ripples through the hall, silencing every whisper.

She what, exactly?

Chan’s breath lodges in his throat. He nearly chokes on it.

The Goddess Mother. Terpsichore. She who breathes magic into this land of dance, who gives the kingdom, Terpsichani, its name.

At the front of the throne room, the king has gone still, all the color drained from his face. Your own eyes have left those of your father, turned wide to the crowd as you try understand what is happening. Both of you compose yourselves, though, far more quickly than Chan manages. As you and your father drop to your knees, so does the rest of the room.

You speak first. “My lady.”

My chosen.

Your shoulders seem to stiffen under the weight of the goddess’s greeting, but you don’t say a word.

So, too, does your father speak. “My lady.”

Your…Majesty.

From where he kneels, Chan allows his eyes to sweep around the room, catching several other glances as well. No one, it seems, missed the pause before the goddess deigned to call the king by his title.

Your father’s face tightens.

I heard the princess’s declaration. I heard the reasoning she put forth to lay her crown, your promise, at your feet. The goddess’s voice echoes off the marble walls, directed at the king. But while I am all-knowing within the borders of our country, my sight in foreign lands is…limited.

Princess.

You look up, ever so slightly.

You called upon me.

A pause. You square your shoulders. “I did, my lady.”

I ask you now to show me what you experienced, and from there I will render my judgment.

Silence falls over the hall once more, though it takes on a puzzled note this time. Though from the moment the goddess used the word show, not tell, Chan understood. And so did you.

The blood seems to have drained from your face, leaving a sick pallor to your skin as you rise to your feet. You hide it well, but Chan notices the trembling in your legs, the legs you still don’t fully trust after having had them broken several times on purpose—legs still riddled with phantom pains and tremors that you have tried to hide but couldn’t fully.

Chan, I don’t want to dance anymore.

But the goddess said show. And the deities of this world understand nothing more than the magic woven into their own art.

As heads remain bowed around him, Chan dares to raise his own. Meet your eyes.

And smile.

You don’t smile. Not really. But as Chan holds your gaze, he watches as the fear in your eyes hardens, then mellows slightly into something a little warmer, a little softer. Your teeth that had been worrying the inside of your lip disengage, and your shoulders fall back as you step forward. The crowds of nobles scurry backward, heads rising in curiosity, but Chan remains where he is, his eyes never leaving yours, your eyes never leaving his.

Slowly, you raise one graceful arm, painting sadness, despair, and resolution into the air.

“As you wish, my lady.”

. . .

Years later, Chan is sure someone—a friend, a child, a grandchild—will ask him what he saw that day, the day the princess danced her story, the story upon which every Moonlight Festival dance would be based upon in the years after. But even as they ask, he knows that he will never be able to answer, because he could never put the sight before him into spoken word.

There is no music in the room, save for the hushed breath of those who still kneel, and the alternate patter and thud of your footsteps against the floor. There is no pomp, no cheer, no festival at hand for which you dance. But as you spin and leap and whirl across marble tiles, weaving emotion into the air, Chan understands, truly, what art means. How it is transcends the word spoken by the lips, how it brings new meaning to life.

Fear, when you first found yourself in the palace of hell. Despair, as you danced night after night with the king to whom your father had promised you away, unable to find a plan of escape. Desperation as days passed and no one came to find you.

You lock eyes with Chan as you whirl to a stop in front of him, just for a moment, your hand outstretched to brush his cheek. As you turn away, the spot burns with the hope he gave you, smothered when the king nearly caught him before he could escape, but still burning, still there, even as you collapse to the floor with the pain of the king snapping your legs, one by one.

A gasp ripples through the room as you rise, unsteady, face drawn tight and pained. With jerky movements you tell of your despair, dancing around the room almost mechanically as you would have with the king every night he healed your pain only for his entertainment. But finally, after three nights of such torture, you turn back to Chan and before anyone can say a word, you pull him forward—squeeze his hands—

Tears brim in your eyes and his as you begin to lead him in the figures you danced to leave the kingdom of hell.

Clasped in your arms, Chan follows your footsteps, guided by your trembling arms that grow steadier, stronger, as you lead him across the floor. And when you emerge from the darkness, trembling and exhausted but that hope still growing stronger and stronger in your heart—

Abject terror as you confront the man who had hurt you so badly, and then disgust and relief as you watched him die.

Your eyes and his are not the only ones filled with tears by the time you stop, panting, one arm held out to the open windows and the sky. And as you lower it slowly, slowly, to intertwine your fingers with his once more, he looks at you, and you look at him, and no one says a word when you fold into each other, two hearts trembling, beating as one.

One clap breaks the silence in the room. Then two. But even as the marble hall erupts into muted applause, you and Chan don’t move. Only when the goddess’s voice again echoes off the walls do you finally step apart.

I have seen, my chosen. I thank you for your bravery.

You bow, eyes cast down to the floor.

I render my judgment.

Chan’s stomach seizes with anxiety. Your hand finds his and you grip each other tightly.

The princess, my chosen, has suffered beyond compare. Terpischore’s words pound through the hall, cold and furious. She suffered for one man’s folly and arrogance. Her own father’s.

Every eye in the room turns to the king, who still stands, red-faced, at the front of the room.

I am fair in my judgment. I understand he…attempted to act in the best interests of the kingdom. However abominable his plan was. Chan can almost see the invisible goddess’s lips twist in the air. But the reason does not excuse the action. And for that, I accept the princess’s decision to leave behind the throne, in the face of this injustice.

Your grip on his hand tightens.

But as you are my chosen, I give you a chance to reconsider your choice. I will accept the decision you make, but hear my hand first.

Bang Chan.

Chan freezes. Tries to swallow. Tries to breathe. Steps forward. “Yes, my lady.”

Commoner. Cobbler.

He swallows. “Yes.”

Bravest of all those who stand here today, save for the princess who stands by your side.

Perhaps he’s hallucinating, but Chan thinks—maybe—that if the goddess wished to show her face, she might be smiling.

I bestow upon you the gift you have earned in helping save the life of one of my chosen.

Chan blinks. Blinks again. The gift.

Something settles on his forehead—cool, icy, then warm, so warm. It melts down, down, his body trembling with warmth that runs through his skin and into his veins, traveling through his blood until it tickles the tips of his toes—

It is true that one who does not have the gift cannot sit on the throne. The goddess’s voice, edged with disdain, once again addresses the king. But the one you tried to bar from the seat now has it. A stronger gift than even you.

If Chan weren’t trying to wrap his mind around what just happened, he might laugh at the king’s expression. But it—it doesn’t make sense—this gift, what gift does the goddess speak of—

What just happened?

“You have our gift now.” Suddenly warm hands have taken his again, turned him around to face a pair of eyes that sparkle and shine with the shimmer of a thousand jewels. “Chan, you have our gift.”

Our gift. Our gift.

And suddenly, he understands.

He has your gift. A gift bestowed by the goddess, the mother of the kingdom’s magic—he has been blessed by her hand, and now—

He has the same gift of magic as you.

My chosen.

You look up. “My lady.”

Will you still accept your position upon the throne with your favored by your side?

Chan almost cries when you squeeze his hands just before letting go. “A thousand times, yes.”

Then come forward and reclaim your crown.

An invisible force lifts the circlet of jewels, diamonds and gold glittering in the sunlight as you kneel, head bowing forward. The crown comes to rest upon your head once more, and the hall takes a collective breath.

Do not disappoint me.

You look up, a light smile playing on your lips. “I won’t.”

The force of the goddess falls from the hall, leaving behind a curious emptiness in its wake. Chan blinks—it all feels like a dream—but there you are, kneeling on the floor with the crown on your brow, and he can still feel magic curling warm in his veins.

He glances at the king, who looks ready to explode. But where the vision once might have made him tremble, Chan finds himself beginning to fight off a laugh.

You meet his gaze. Glance briefly at your father, a smile tugging at your lips as you stand once more, shoes clicking on the ground. Your hand finds his and the smile grows and grows, splitting your face as joy sparkles in your eyes—

“You once promised that you wouldn’t leave me behind,” you say. Your voice echoes in the hall but for all Chan cares the world only consists of the two of you right now, you and your smile and the way he can’t tear his eyes from your face.

The smile widens.

“I promise you now that I won’t either.”

. . . . .

Compared to other royal weddings, yours is a simple one, just a quiet ceremony conducted in the palace gardens under the setting sun. Some nobility and foreign royalty fill a couple requisite rows of seats, but occupying the placements up front are your and Chan’s families and friends. Unfortunately, this does include your father, but you pay him little heed from where you stand at the altar, waiting for Chan to arrive.

The rose gold sunset seems to glow around Chan’s face when he appears at the end of the garden, dressed in all the silks and satins befitting a soon to be prince consort. But you don’t process his finery so much as you process the expression on his face—a certain softness in his eyes that you’ve learned, over the past few months, is reserved only for you.

Truth be told, you don’t remember much of the ceremony. It’s mostly a blur—the officiant’s voice, the garden’s greenery, the wind tousling Chan’s hair and the love in his eyes that makes you feel so safe, so warm. The only part you’re really aware of comes towards the end of the wedding, when the two parties spin each other once under the flowered archway. Hands joined, you raise your arm to let Chan spin once under the peonies and roses. After that, it’s his turn to spin you, but he pauses.

You haven’t danced much since you returned from Kereseia. It’s caused some gossip in the court, but when you and Yeji began to further spread the truthful rumor that the Kereseian king had broken both of your legs to keep you from escaping, only to heal you every night he wanted entertainment, the whispers died a bit. That’s not the full reason, though. You don’t quite understand it yourself. Yes, sometimes tremors travel up your legs and you still find yourself stepping gingerly as though your bones haven’t quite healed, but it's also that every time you think of some nameless, faceless person taking your hand and leading you into the figures of a dance, you feel sick. Terrified.

You hate it. Because it feels like the Kereseian king has won even though he’s dead, taken away your love and passion for something that was and has always been part of your blood. But you can’t help it, and so it just keeps hurting.

Chan knows. You’ve told him about it more than once, cried to him about it, even. He was there when you broke down before your escape. He was there when you told him, point blank, you didn’t want to dance anymore. He’s also the only one whose arms you feel comfortable staying in for the duration of a dance, though it’s still harder for you to follow than it is to lead.

When Chan pauses before he honors the wedding tradition, you’re confused, for a moment. The officiant looks between the two of you with a furrowed brow. But Chan only looks at you, and in his eyes, he asks a question.

Is this okay?

You almost start to cry right then and there. For during a wedding that you broke tradition to have, Chan is willing to break tradition just so that you can feel safe.

Holding back tears, you nod. And as you turn once under the canopy of flowers overhead, you feel something melt out of your chest, some icy block of fear dissipating into the air.

The vows come after, spoken softly just as the sun touches the horizon, pink and purple light streaking into the sky. “I promise I will never leave you behind,” you say, voice unsteady with tears, and Chan echoes the sentiment, his own words choked. The officiant pronounces you married and amidst the applause of the small audience you kiss, his lips warm and soft and gentle like the sunset.

Afterward, in the grand ballroom, you do dance a little. Not much, and never with anyone but Chan or your sisters, but it’s fun in a way you haven’t felt dancing to be in a long time and by the end of the night, while you’re certainly tired, you feel content. Happy. Enough that you can smile wide and true as you bow out of the ballroom, even as your father’s sullen stare attempts to pierce your body as you turn away.

The silent bedroom provides a welcome contrast to the noise of the ballroom, where you’re certain people are still dancing even though you and Chan have retired for the night. You sit on the bed, soaking in the quiet while Chan washes his face in the bathroom.

He emerges quietly, like he doesn't want to disturb your peace. “Hi,” he says shyly as he sits down next to you. A small smile of your own crosses your lips and you have to fight the urge to giggle. After so many years of yearning in quiet, it still seems surreal that you’re allowed to love each other openly, without issue, but you're sure he feels the same way. Emboldened by this, you lean into him, pressing your face into his shoulder, and just breathe for a moment. “Hi, yourself,” you mumble, voice muffled into his skin.

Outside, the moon has risen, full and bright and glowing in the dark sky. When you pull your face out of Chan’s shoulder to meet his eyes, you seem to see the stars reflected in them, and the words slip out of your lips suddenly, softly, hanging in the air.

“Dance with me, Chan?”

His eyes flicker from startled to confused to concerned all in a second. “Of course,” he replies, “but are you sure?”

Are you? You search yourself for the answer. True, you haven’t danced much in a while. True, you haven’t wanted to dance with a partner that you didn’t know since you returned from the underground. But it is also true that this all stems from an issue of trust—an inability to trust your legs, an inability to trust your faceless partner, an inability to trust that the scars from Kereseia have fully healed.

And it is true that you trust Chan, enough to give yourself to him.

A smile flutters over your expression. “I am,” you say, taking his hands. “Dance with me.”

You haven’t changed yet, haven’t even slipped off your shoes. Which means that, as you let Chan lead you into the slow figures of a waltz, you are still wearing the dancing slippers he made for you as a wedding gift, the most beautiful pair you have ever owned. Today is the first time you’ve worn them, and even after the dances you took on the ballroom floor, they are so comfortable that your feet still don’t hurt.

Every night, in the kingdom of Kereseia, you wore out one pair of slippers during the Midnight Ball. You don’t plan to do much of the same here. But privately, you think, you wouldn’t mind dancing the night away with Chan, if it was just you and him under a blanket of stars. Because you trust him, and he trusts you, and you would never hesitate in his hold, knowing that he will never bring you harm.

“I love you, Y/N,” Chan murmurs, and his voice sounds like music in the air. A melody upon which you could and will dance to for as long as you live.

You sway in his hold, a smile growing on your face. “I love you too, Chan.”

Always, and forevermore.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

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dazed--xx · 3 months

Text

❤️‍🩹Only Love(Can Hurt Like This)❤️‍🩹

Summary: I tell myself you don't mean a thing. And what we got, got no hold on me; But when you're not there, I just crumble. I tell myself I don't care that much; But I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch Only love……Only love can hurt like this

Member: Bang Chan x Reader

T/W:1930s Era, ANGST, historical inaccuracies, Prohibition, cursing, mafia, talks of murder, mentions of guns, Molotov cocktail, gun violence, harassment, neglect in a relationship I guess, mentions of illegal activity, life threatening injuries, mentions mafia war. Mentions of Bootlegging, mentions of Shylocking. Sad ending

Word Count: 5.1K

I tell myself you don't mean a thing and what we got, got no hold on me, But when you're not there, I just crumble

The diner boomer as the large groups of men laughed over coffee. You leaned over the bar, your chin resting on your hand as your eyes scanned over the crowd as you waited for your customers dishes. Your coworker Jiung whines as his orders came out. Your eyes land on a familiar group of faces in your section. You sigh as your eyes land on your favorite eye candy, Mr.Bang. He sat at the end of his table his midnight locks slicked back in the most perfect way. He watched the group of men in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the other’s conversations. Your favorite customer, Hyunjin, whined about something you couldn’t hear. “You sound stupid…” A deep rough voice bellowed toward the Adonis like male that sat across from him. “How? Be real here! What more does Park expect from us?! He gets himself pinched and we have to take care of the work on the street” Hyunjin snapped back crossing his arms over his chest frustratedly. “We collect the Vig like we’re bagmen.” He growled pointing to the table as he leans toward the freckled faced boy “We take care of his family. He’s got a wife and kids and a mistress and a mistress for the mistress!” He continues as the freckled boy rolls his eyes. A snap is heard cutting the rest of the ranting man's words off. “Mind your manners, He's still the boss. And the boss is the boss what he says goes” Mr. Bang finally spoke, his voice was firm and unforgiving. “You're so worried about Park. Have you handled the Spring Cleaning I asked you to take care of?” his large palm placed itself behind Hyunjin’s neck, pulling him closer to him. Placing their foreheads together “How's the trash business? I heard there was a certain friend causing some problems” Mr. Bang challenged. His aura alone was suffocating. Your eyes couldn't help but be drawn to him every time he'd walked through the front door. His tone was calm as always but you could tell from the fear sitting on Hyunjin’s usually smiling face; this man should be feared.

A familiar ding rings from behind you. “Table 2 order up!” your managers voice calls from behind the window. “You're a line cook now?” you question, your manager Keeho gives you a snide smile. “Sit and spin” he growls as he flips you off. You blow him a kiss as you grab your customers orders of fried eggs with home fries and bacon. You place the plates on your serving tray. You grab a pot of coffee from the counter as you make your way from around the counter. You will yourself not to stare at the alluring man, who's gaze to you feel burning into you as you walk past his table. You come to a table in the corner two very well dressed yet bulky men sat at the table. A bright smile grows on the more rough looking mans face. You place their food in front of them “If there's anything else, I could get for you please let me know” you smile at them, you could feel their eyes scan over your body. The larger man leans toward you a sly smirk on his lips “As a matter of fact..” he begins “I could use a date with you?” he suggests a flirtatious tone. You groan internally as you give him a faux smile as you fill their mugs with coffee. “I don't make it a habit to fraternize with my customers” you respond firmly. “I wasn't really asking…” He growls under his breath. His hand caresses your thigh, you glare at the man. “Well I'm not interested.” his hand begins to grip your thigh “Sir, I am at work…” you growl once again. “I advise you to unhand my waitress, Kim” The familiar firm voice you admired called from behind you a chilling calmness sitting comfortably in his tone. Your heart sunk in your chest as the man stared at your savior, fear in his eyes. You look over your shoulder as the large man lifts both of his hands in a defensive pose. He stammered at the intimidating male as you turn to stagger away from the table. You notice your two favorite customers, Jisung and Hyunjin standing behind Mr. Bang.

Death glares sitting on the groups faces, your mouth hung open in shock for a moment before you give them an appreciative smile and shove past them. You quickly make your way into office that sat between the kitchen and the bathrooms. You take a deep breath feeling embarrassed at the situation. You couldn't believe yourself, you were more shaken up from how close Mr. Bang had stood to you than the men being aggressive with their proposition. Your heart raced as you remembered the way his eyes trailed over your body, it was different for the large men they had stared at you like they wanted to eat you. For some reason, his gaze felt protective, safe, and possessive though you only said the occasional flirty comments here or there.

How could a man of his stature be so intimidatingly sexy?

The sound of the door opening makes you jump. Your eyes land on the culprit, bringing you face-to-face with the reason for your anxiety. “Y-you’re not supposed to come back here, Mr. Bang.” you stammer, he sighs as he places his hands in his pockets; he raises his eyebrow, he looks around the room for a second before staring at you once again. “It's my office…” He states matter of fact, you stare at him bewildered. “You didn't think I came here every day just for the food, right?” He questions jokingly. You shake your head in response. “Never thought about it much, I was hired to serve food not be in any ones business”

“Keeho seems to run a tight ship. Good quality you seem to have…”

“Years of experience…besides I like my job. Pays well.”

“You hear a lot too…”

“Not really..” You shrug.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Like I said, my job is to serve food and mind my business. And What my customers talk about isn't my business” he nods a smirk forms on his lips “You Okay?” you scoff at his question “Those two? They're more bark then bite…” he raises his eyebrow in amusement as he steps toward you allowing the door to close behind him, he caresses your cheek. “You're the first to say that, they're quite feisty when they want to be. You seem to like being in dangerous situations….” this hand glides to your chin his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. Your heart races “Don’t put yourself in danger anymore..” He sighs. There’s something softer in his tone. “With the crowd that hangs out here it would be impossible.” You challenge “besides I don’t make it much of a habit”

“Last week you chased a guy who ran out on his bill…”

“I’m not losing money for an idiot”

“I pay well. A 10 dollar meal won’t break the bank, doll”

“To you…it won’t break the bank to you. Some of us don’t have diners to generate income and have a vig to pay.”

“This isn’t my only business, I have a couple more I can put you somewhere more suitable for a lady.” He suggests raising his eyebrow not pulling away from you. “I’d feel better knowing you’re safe”

“No. Thank you, Mr. Bang. But I love my job here. I love Keeho and the guys. Besides I fought my father to work here, I don't want him to think I'm getting into trouble” you confess.

“Chan…”

“Hmm?”

“My name.” he smiles “Call me Chan, doll. I don't like how Mr. Bang sounds coming from you.” a blush creeps on your cheeks. “I'm not sure if that's appropriate, Mr. Bang” you stifle a shy giggle.

“Why not?”

You freeze for a moment before answering “Well, you own this business. I work at this business. Does keeho call you Chan?” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “He could…he wouldn't be around long but he could.” he stares at you in amusement. “Besides, all this time you stared at me, don't tell me you only wish to maintain an employer-employee relationship?”

Your eyes widen at his question. You felt nervous, all this time you didn't think he'd noticed you. For him to confront you about your crush…it caught you off guard to say the least. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you swear you could hear it in your ears, almost like a tune on the radio. Your cheeks burn a bright scarlet. “C-Chan…I-I—See I knew you could do it.” he cuts you off bemused. He leaned in close to you, caressing your cheek he connected your eyes “Don't worry about an answer now, as you said earlier you're at work. I'll let you get back to it.” he smirks before pulling away and heading toward the door “See you tomorrow, doll” he pulls a cigarette pack from his pocket, taking one out he lights it. He looks back at you giving you a wink and a wave he disappears behind the door.

Your legs turn to jelly as he exits, and you collapse on the ground. You hold your hand over your heart as if it could steady it. Your cheeks are a bright neon scarlet, a wave of giddiness crashes over you. Chan… you blushed to yourself. Even his name was mesmerizing.

It had been weeks since the office incident and you still hesitated on pursuing something with Chan. He still came in every morning with the same group of 7. You'd bring them coffee and he would find some way to brush his hand over yours. He'd become quite…. persistent all of a sudden. He'd give you a wink and smile the moment he saw you approaching his table. When Jisung or Hyunjin asked about your brother, Chan would hang onto your every word. One thing did change though, now he always paid the bill with you at the counter. He'd find some reason to touch you in some way whether it's by brushing a stray hair away or placing his hand on yours while you talk. You also noticed the larger tips the other boys began to leave. Yet you hesitate.

Over the past few weeks, you began to properly do your homework on one Bang Chan. You had figured that once he told you he owned the diner he was associated with the mafia in some way, Keeho was a connected guy after all. You had assumed Chan was also involved in some way but you never expected to find out he was a Capo. Let alone a high-ranking one placed directly under your father.

A bootlegger by trade, after the government declared war on alcohol. Your father the underboss of the Park crime family, had taught you many tricks of the trade. And for 10 years he ran the largest underground alcohol distribution network. From the moment the idea of prohibition was proposed your father began learning and perfecting the craft of making beer and alcohol. Many of the crime families had to go through your father for their libations, and it had built your families wealth exponentially. But all things must come to an end, and when it did it came with a shakedown.

The feds were swift and ruthless they came early in the morning to whisk your father away for his current 10-year bid. While you and your mother could live comfortably with the money your father left for you. You felt wrong using the money he'd risked everything for. So, you worked, you worked to maintain his vig. You handled his books while your uncle acted as his capo for the crew. During you're research you had learned Bang Chan was notorious, him and his crew making their bones at very young ages. Before you never really paid attention to the chatter about the man you admired from a far; but you couldn't help yourself now.

You now knew how almost every woman who lived in a 2-block radius admired him, and all the men respected him. You learned whatever you couldn't from idle chatter from your uncle and father. Chan had taken the oath after he'd helped win the war against the Choi family. Rumors said he'd been the one to take out the former boss. Your father pointed out how he had a knack for businesses, once starting out as a Shylocker Chan quickly developed multiple businesses from construction, to apartment buildings, clubs and obviously the diner you currently work at.

Of course, there was idle chatter about his vicious and unforgiving temper as well. How every man including him may seem sweet, attractive, and harmless but under that facade laid ruthless cold-blooded killers. You shutter when you remember the cold unbothered tone Chan had used toward those men that day in the diner. You don't even want to think about what could have happened, remembering your father's temper. You had continued to lock your feelings away from the mafioso, knowing nothing but pain could come from entering a relationship with him.

Until one day, he didn't show up with everyone like he always did. You had been floored, to say the least when you noticed his seat empty. You were able to put on a facade laughing with them as you poured them coffee. Growing up around mafiosos, you never felt uncomfortable they were respectful, honest when they could be, and headstrong. But they were men at the end of the day, they were human. Having a high-ranking mafia father you had no choice but to find yourself comfortable around them. Despite the rumors this group always was polite and made you laugh, you laughed along with Jisung's jokes as you took their orders. Your eyes drifted to his empty seat. You found yourself growing more and more upset as time ticked by. The group of boys finishing their meals with idle chatter you'd typically ignore but today you hung onto their every word waiting for some mention of Chan or his whereabouts.

Was he okay? Did something happen?

You found yourself ridiculous but your heart shattered as the boys called out a goodbye on their way out. You give them a faux smile as you wave them off. You make your way over to the table. He didn't show up… you slowly cleaned the table stacking dishes on your tray. You notice a paper sticking out of the bill folder. Curious, you pull the paper from the checkbook and read it's contents.

Doll,

Had a meeting. If it's not too much trouble, I'd still like to see you. I need to see you every day, you see. Meet me at Spark’s steakhouse. 8pm

-yours Bang Chan

I tell myself I don't care that much. But I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch. Only love….Only love can hurt like this….

It had been two years since that day. You and Chan had been together through the end of prohibition. You spent your first night legally able to drink with a bottle of wine on the beach. Feeling the sand between your toes as you sipped from the wine glass, your hand encased in Chan’s. Whilst you felt your relationship with Chan was almost perfect, as he was such a gentleman despite his reputation. Unfortunately, you felt he was too much of a gentleman sometimes. He refused to touch you, even after two years together you both hadn't gotten past steamy kisses and heavy petting. You hoped the alcohol would loosen him up a bit, but as someone who never had to stop drinking recreationally, he could maintain his inhibitions. You, on the other hand, didn't drink during prohibition so you felt quite inebriated.

Chan quickly found out you see an honest and affectionate drunk, as you lazily laid your head on his shoulder. Your arms wrapped around his bicep as you stared up at him with a pout. He pecks your lips softly, raising his eyebrow at your expression the corner of his mouth lifts in amusement. “May I ask what's troubling you doll?” he questions as he brings the wine glass to his plush lips, taking a sip of wine. You stare up at him a longing in your eyes “Why won't you fuck me?” you slur. He choked on the drink, not expecting your sudden boldness. His eyes wide as he pulls away from you slightly “W-What?”

“Why won't you—Don’t ask me again, I heard you the first time…” He cuts you off in a panic. He looks around at your surroundings. “Well…Why?” you question “I really want to…but you always stop.” you pout as you pull your head away from him releasing his arm. “I don't—I wouldn't just fuck you. I love you, you'd be more to me than just some fuck. If I wasn't who I am I'd have proposed to you and make love to you every chance I got. I'd want to do things the right way…”

“But…?”

“But I am who I am. My job isn't safe right now, a lot of people are in a situation and things are starting to look like a war is brewing”

“I don't care about any of that, Chan I just want you”

“I do—sigh—your safety is my priority right now. Usually, your safety would be guaranteed but once I get the call to hit the mattresses…” he trails looking away from you. You hear the way his voice cracks as he speaks. “There wouldn't be someone around to guard me..” you finish for him. He nods his eyes screwed shut for a moment. “Look, if I get the call promise me you won't go to the diner until I get back” he urges caressing your cheek. You stare at him sadness sits in his chocolate eyes. You could tell he was nervous and felt guilty. You nod reluctantly. You feel his forehead press against yours.

“I promise once all of this is taken care of I'll give you everything you desire, doll”

“I love you Chan. I can wait”

Say I wouldn't care if you walked away, But every time you're there, I'm begging you to stay When you come close, I just tremble And every time, every time you go It's like a knife that cuts right through my soul. Only love…..Only love can hurt like this

You were on edge for 2 months. Every time Chan was late, a prick would be sent through your heart. You weren't sure when the war would start but even the civilians could feel it was coming as more and more tension built between Park Jin-young’s faction and Yang Hyun-Sik's faction. The animosity formed when Yang Hyun-Sik made all his union trashmen go on strike until Park Jin-young funded his latest venture. Escalating all the way to the phone call that would send your entire world crumbling down around you.

It had been a normal day, you had been laughing along with Jisung when Keeho called you over to the counter. A serious look on his face when he handed you the phone. You took it hesitantly, your heart shattered in your chest when you heard the corrections officer on the other end of the line explain your father's passing. No matter the officer's terminology you knew. You knew it was a hit, you stood frozen in shock as Keeho stared at you worriedly. His voice was drowned out by the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. You could feel his hand on your shoulder as your eyes traveled around the diner landing on your lover who was laughing with his friends until his eyes met yours. A tear fell down your cheek as Chan stared at you, worry and confusion written all over his face.

The front door bursts open as Yang Jeongin runs straight to Chan. “Boss, they got to Baek Do-Chul last night” He murmurs as he struggles to catch his breath. His words prompted Chan to rush to your side quickly pulling you into his arms. He held you close as you sobbed into his chest. Realization falls over everyone's face, the war had begun with the murder of your father. You sob harshly knowing you have lost your father and lover in one quick swoop. You clung Chan, whispering your pleas for him to stay by your side.

You could tell he wanted to. Oh, how he wished he could stay with you and hold you close forever. You could see the longing to stay and avoid the war on his face. But he took an oath, and without him and his men the Park family could fall. Everything he and your father and all the men around you had worked so hard for could crumble down at any moment. He couldn't do that to his men, the family he had made he would never abandon them. And you knew that, so as much as it hurt you had to let him go. Your heart went through the door with him leaving you an utter sobbing mess on the floor.

But if the sweetest pain, Burning hot through my veins. Love is torture….Makes me more sure,Only love can hurt like this

It had been 6 months since the war started.

6 months since your world fell apart.

6 months since your father had died.

6 months since Chan and the boys had left…

The commission had plenty of sit-downs in regard to the war, with Keeho being sent for almost daily while he was acting as boss for your father after your uncle became another casualty in the war. He had tried to avoid asking you to come back to the diner but he became desperate as he could no longer manage the day-to-day business and run your father's old crew. You had agreed to help hoping to get some sense of normalcy. Though the busiest time you had seen was when Chan and the boys were around. Many people avoided the many businesses controlled by both factions too afraid of the possibility of being in a front-row seat of a mafia war.

The night shift was typically quiet. You had an easy time as the night crew were funny and enjoyed their time around each other. You were cleaning the dining room with the only other closing waiter, Intak. The two of you laughing at the cook, Soul, shouting profanities and arguing with himself from the kitchen when a flash of light caught your eye.

Before you could comprehend what was happening the window beside you shattered. You feel an arm wrap around you as you hear the sound of glass breaking near your feet and you're pulled roughly deeper into the dining room. The part of the dining room where you had been standing goes up in flames. You hear the sound of more breaking glass as Intak yanks you behind him, he grabs the back of your head shoving it down and making you crouch “Keep your head down!” He exclaims as you try to look around. You notice his hand reach behind him, he produces a Colt hammerless pistol from his waistband. You rush toward the back exit as you hear the sound of gunfire. The flames growing more and more vicious engulfing the building in a matter of seconds. You struggled to breathe as smoke filled the room. “Y/N!” you hear Soul's voice call from the kitchen. “Soul!” you cry as a cough builds in your lungs. “Follow my voice!” he exclaims as you hear clattering from the kitchen. “I-I'm trying…” you call, trying to feel your way through the doorway. The room begins spinning as you struggle to breathe you feel a sharp pain radiate across your back through your stomach. You feel your strength growing weaker and weaker as you stagger into the back room. You lean against the wall as you feel a warmth spreading across your torso. Your legs giving out just outside the kitchen. You stare up at the wall a trail of blood following you. You stare down at your torso noticing the sticky red liquid that painted your shirt. The world goes black as a familiar voice calls “Y/N!”

Only love can hurt like this; Your kisses burn into my skin.Only love can hurt like this, Only love can hurt like this….Save me…..Save me….Only love, only love.

A faint beeping rings in your ears, and your eyes feel heavy as you try to pull them open. You're blinded by a flash of white light. You release a groan as you hold your head trying to allow yourself to adjust to the light. Your throat feels exceptionally dry as you look around the room finding a table with a cup of water beside your bed you take the cup quickly gulping down its contents. Your torso is sore as you notice the familiar figure hunched over your bed. Your heart races as you rub your eyes expecting the figure to disappear “C-Chan…?” you mutter, your hand coming in contact with his hair. You caress his head tenderly. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He jumps from his position when he sees you staring back at him. He pulls you into his arms with a call of your name. You wince as pain shoots through your torso. You hear him sobbing as he holds you in his arms “You're awake!” he cries pressing light kisses all over your face. “Fuck! Thank god, I thought I lost you. I thought we were too late. When I saw you like that, you looked like you were dead. I almost died right there.” He rambled as he held onto you for dear life. “I'm okay, it's nothing..” you try to brush it off.

“You were shot!” He snaps “How could you say that? You almost died! You were in a coma for 2 weeks!” you stare at him stunned “Channie—I almost lost you! Why were you even there? You promised me! You promised you wouldn't work there while I was gone! Why didn't you just listen?!” He cut you off, his concern and anger worn on his face. For once he couldn't contain his emotions. You look away from him “I'm sorry. I just I wanted to feel close to you again” you mutter

“It was dangerous! I told you how dangerous it would be!”

“I'm sorry, but I don't regret it”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No Chan. I understand why you're upset right now but you have to understand why I did it. I needed something to feel normal again”

“So you do something stupid and put yourself in danger?”

“What did you expect me to do?!”

“Listen to me, Goddammit!” He growls roughly “I tried! I really tried but I lost my dad and you on the same day! I needed you! And the family came first! You left me! When I was begging you not to, you left!” you finally snap you stare daggers at Chan. “You act like I had a choice. I-I didn't want to leave, doll.” you look away from him crossing your arms over your chest. Chan reaches trying to uncross your arms and hold your hand “Doll please listen to me…” he pleads “I took care of it. The war is almost over. The guy that killed your dad I took care of it. I didn't have a choice, it was an order. I have to listen to the commission.” He argues finally relenting on trying to hold your hand he paces the room. “Oh trust me I know all about it. How the family and your path will come before anything. How it has to be your priority. How no matter what happens nothing comes before omerta.” you scoff “I'm surprised you're even here, how'd you manage that? Since your orders are so important…”

“Don't be like that, doll. You know you're my first priority…”

“Oh am I?”

“Yes! Come on Y/N, don't doubt my love for you because I have to follow orders”

“The only reason your here Chan is because I almost died, not because you missed me or needed to see me.”

“Of course, I wanted to see you every day I was gone. I'm here because I needed to be sure you were okay. I'm here for you…”

“For how long? 2 days? 4?” you question crossing your arms over your chest. He stares at you with a guilty expression. “Tomorrow. I have to leave tomorrow…” you scoff “of course..”

“I-I spent an entire two weeks here! Park told me no matter what I need to go back tomorrow. The war is almost over we have a plan. Just—Just give me some time…” he pleas

“I don't have any more time.” you state coldly, catching him off guard “I don't have any more time to wait for a man who would leave me after what I just went through because of him. I won't wait around for a man who would leave me the moment I return from the brink of death.”

“Y/N please…” His voice cracks as he reaches out for you “D-dont make this hard for me”

“Just go follow your orders.” your tone is full of venom. You can see the pain on his face. “Doll…I-I’m sor—i don't even care to hear it. Go follow your orders Chan. Win your war, but I won't be here waiting for you when you get back” you cut him off. You hear him whimper in pain at your declaration. His eyes well up with tears as he stares at you in shock he rushes to your side, dropping to his knees he takes your hand. “N-No, doll please! I'll do anything. I'll stay. I won't go! Don't leave me..you’re all I have” Tears stream down his face as he begs. You shake your head pulling your hand away from his. “I can't keep doing this. I won't make you choose between me and your oath. Please just go” you state begrudgingly. Chan’s sobs grow stronger as he holds your face in his hands pressing his forehead against yours. “No, please! I'm sorry. I'm sorry please don't—don’t leave me. I can't live with out you, please…I chose you I'll choose you over my oath” he whimpers. His face is coated with tears as you stare at him your own tears falling. Your heart breaks at the sight of falling apart. Your injuries no longer even painful as your heart shatters all over the floor.

Cause only love can hurt like this…

⏪|⏸️|⏩

Taglist: @yangbbokari @havenwithleeknow

#bangchan angst #bang chan #skz chan fluff #skz chan x reader #skz chan scenarios #skz chan imagines #christopher bang #skz fic #bang chan mafia au #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan au #skz chan angst #stray kids reactions #stray kids angst fic #stray kids chan angst #Spotify

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liashinmenu · 1 year

Text

11:38 | Bangchan

Hard Dom!Chan, Sub!Reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: Dirty talk, no mention of using condom so unprotected sex (don't follow their steps), degradation, Master kink, mentions of exhibitionism, not proof read, short.

English is not my first language so sorry if I got any mistake while writing this.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT —————————

"Awww, my pretty little cocksleeve is already too dumb to speak? Too bad." Chan said with a fake sad tone in his voice.

"I bet the boys would love seeing you like this, all whiny and letting out all those beautiful moans of yours just by feeling my cock. You would love that too, wouldn't you?" His words were hitting straight to your core, as you clenched around him.

"I knew you would do, pretty sluts like you always love to be watched while they get ruined by their master, right?" You were too full to even speak, feeling his hips hitting yours from behind as his cock slid deep inside you.

Chan grabbed you by your hair as you didn't respond, "I asked you a question, don't be a brat and use your words" he said as he stopped moving, make you whine in response.

"You can whine but not answer your master? Well, I guess you got too cockdumb to speak, right? If that's so, then I guess I should just give you exactly what you seem to be wanting".

The next thing you know is that Chan is grabbing your hips with one of his hands, while with the other he's pushing your head against the mattress and making you beg for mercy.

"Oh no baby, you should have thought about that earlier." You sobbed in response.

"Now go on and suck on my fingers, before making me tell the neighbours I have a filthy little brat at home so they don't complain about you being so loud".

Writer's note: I literally should be studying but who cares when you could be writing smut about this man.

#bang chan smut #bang chan hard hours #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #skz x reader #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz chan x reader #skz chan smut #skz chan scenarios #SoundCloud

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scarsnfevers · 1 year

Text

The moment they found out that you had a car accident

pairing; reader x hyung line

genre; angst

summary; you were in a serious car accident while you were on your way home and your boyfriend just found out while he was working

word count; 578

warnings; mentions of death multiple times

author's note; well they could be some typos in it, so please don't kill me ꕥ

Chan

The moment he found out that you, his soulmate, the love of his life had a serious car accident, it completely overwhelmed him. Chan was in a V-Live right now, but he couldn't hide his emotions. He would end the V-Live instantly without any explanation and drive straight to the hospital to check on you and be with you.

"Honey, I'm so glad you're alive. I couldn't imagine a life without you."

He would kneel by your bed, tears streaming down his face as he held your hand.

"I'll never take my eyes off you from now on, I promise. I will protect you from everything."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Minho

When he found out that you had a car accident, Minho was filming with the other members an MV for Stray Kids next comeback. At first he was calm, but you could tell from his face that he would have liked to quit everything immediately and drive to the hospital you were in. His worries literally tore him apart. Just before the end of the last scene, that was filmed, Minho hurriedly left the the place where they recorded everything. He couldn't wait any longer. He really wanted to be with you and make sure you were okay. As he approached your bed, he could hardly contain his emotions.

"Whatever you do from now on, I'll be there. I won't let you out of my sight."

He breathed, tears in his eyes as he blamed himself for putting you in such a situation.

"I will protect you with my life from now on."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Changbin

When Changbin found out about your accident, he was live on Idol Radio with the other members. He had received a text message from your mother. Since then he couldn't think of anything else that you were hopefully still alive. Without saying anything to the members, he decided to drop everything and drive to the hospital you were in. As he walked into the hospital room, he paused for a moment when he saw you. Tears welled up in his eyes before slowly approaching you.

"Y/n."

His voice was barely audible as the tears trickled down his cheeks. Changbin gently took your hand to wrap his hands around yours.

"I love you Y/N, please don't die, please don't die, please."

he cried out. His shoulders started shaking uncontrollably as he couldn't hold back the sadness, the fear of losing you. It wasn't until you gently squeezed his hand that made Changbin pause.

"Y/N, oh thank god." He gasped.

"From now on I'll drive you everywhere, okay? I love you honey. I love you."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Hyunjin

Hyunjin was shooting some behind the scenes for the new season SKZ - Talker when he got the news that you, his girlfriend, had a serious car accident. For a moment he didn't seem to understand, until reality hit him right in his face. The shock was deep inside his bones. It took Hyunjin a moment to understand. He didn't hesitate, because the fear rose in him that he could lose you forever. He dropped everything and took the nearest taxi to the hospital where you were in. He was so glad to see you alive, even though you were badly injured.

"I love you, I love you more than anything. God, I'm so glad you're alive."

He would just be by your side for the next few weeks and months, reading every wish from your lips until you completely recovered.

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mykoreanlove · 2 months

Text

Ever wondered what it would be like to be pregnant by Chan?

„I need to get out of the house. Come get me, please.“

„What’s wrong? Something with the baby?“, your best friend asked concerned.

„It’s Chan. I can’t be around him anymore.“

„What? Why?“

You took a deep breath before explaining this ridiculous situation.

„He just wants to fuck me all the time and I can’t handle it anymore. Please, save me from this pussydrunk.“

Your best friend broke out in laughter, unable to answer for minutes.

„Are you for real right now? He’s always been like this. Why does this bother you now?“

It was true - you had a very active sex life which you adored. You adored being with him intimately, no matter the time nor place but ever since you got pregnant his sex craze became too much to bear.

„It’s different now that I’m pregnant. It’s like he‘s addicted to my pussy now.“

„Because of the pregnancy?“

You nodded quietly.

„Yeah, something about me carrying his child is driving him nuts.“

„Girl, are you for real?“

You sighed annoyed as she wasn’t taking you seriously.

„I fucking mean it. I don’t even have to do anything, just passing by him is enough for him to get hard. He literally grabs me and fucks me brainless, as if he wanted to add a sibling.“

Your friend snorted amused.

„So you’re telling me your very hot boyfriend who worships the ground you walk on is addicted to fucking you? And you want me to get you out of that? Babes, is the baby messing with your brain?“

„Shut the fuck up, my pussy can’t take it anymore, I-“

You heard the door open and shut up, already fearing what was about to come.

„Baby, are you home? Where is my beautiful, sexy goddess that is carrying my little Channie?“

„I gotta hang up“, you whispered hastily.

„Why? Is your cock appointment due?“

„Oh shut it“, you wanted to answer but got interrupted by Chan.

„There you are“, he was smiling happily while holding a giant bouquet of flowers in his hands. You hung up and smiled proudly as he was getting on his knees and started talking to your baby.

„Hey little one, I missed you“, he whispered sweetly.

Seeing him like that melted your heart, you just knew that he was going to be an amazing dad.

Chan started pampering your big belly in kisses while stroking your thighs.

„Actually, there’s something else I missed“, he breathed out hastily as he looked into your eyes with a deep longing.

You gulped as his big hands glided over the insides of your thighs, squeezing them lightly.

„Wanna know what else I missed?“

You nodded silently.

Chan let go of your thighs and started kissing your leg, starting with your ankle and going up to your knee. His eyes were piercing through you, they were full of desire and passion.

He continued kissing your leg before spreading them, making room for his head between them. The view of your pregnant belly and juicy pussy made him hold his breath, he felt like entering heaven again.

Seeing him like that made you throb, even though you were sore and fucked out for the week you couldn’t hide your desire for this man.

You were always his, always at his mercy.

Chan’s plush lips landed on your core, kissing through the fabric while mumbling: „I missed mommy the most. Want me to show you how much?“

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sunwoowrites · 1 year

Text

Best Friends?

Part 2 : Bang Chan POV.

Bang Chan x Y/n

Fem!reader

Angst, comfort

TW: swearing, self-degrading.

"Are we still best friends?"

I felt my heart drop down to my stomach. A heavy lump sat in throat. Words were unable to form. Tears welled in my eyes.

"w-what?"

She let out a huff, taking a deep breath. "I said...Are we still best friends Channie?" I moved closer holding her hands in mine. "Angel, of course we are." She let out a sob, struggling to hold it in and along with a shaky breath.

"I-It doesn't feel like it..."

"Angel..."

"N-no. It doesn't feel like it. It feels like we keep moving further and further apart. It feels like when I text you, my messages are unwanted, It feels like you'll be better off,It feels like you don't want me there anymore,It feels like I'm wasting your time and that I'm not-" She moved her hand to wipe her sleeve against her cheek. "I'm not worthy enough to be your friend."

It felt as if every word that came out of her mouth ripped my heart out of my chest. I pulled her hands back into my hand. "Its okay to feel the way you do Y/N, but with all due respect its not fucking true." I sniffled. "Its not true. I was so busy and I'm so sorry I didn't check up on you, I should've. But You are so worth being my friend, my best friend and more. You mean everything to me angel. I literally giggle at your texts theres no way they're unwanted. You don't waste my time. You make every second mean so much more."

She shook her head and let out a broken sob. "N-no. I don't." I pulled her into my chest and hugged her. "Yes. Yes you do." I kissed her head. "You do. And I love yo-" My eyes widened and I kept quiet. She pushed me back holding my hoodie in her fists. "what did you say?" I shook my head. "Nothing. Nothing. I said Nothing." She sniffled and looked at me with a determined stare. "Christopher Bang what were you saying." I gulped and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "I was going to say that I-" I squeezed my eyes shut. This was it. Using all of the courage in me I let out the words I've been holding in me for months.

"I love you."

I felt her soft lips on mine. My eyes widened. She pulled back and looked at me with eyes just as wide as mine. "come here you." I said pulling her onto my lap, kissing her again. It was messy and all over the place. Filled with so much emotion. So much care and so much love. We pulled away, catching our breaths, she held my face in her hands. "I love you too. I love you so fucking much."

I let out a giggle and pushed her hair out of her face. I wiped her tears and my smile faded. "Please don't ever think that lowly of yourself again. You mean too much to me. Okay angel?" She looked down at her lap. "Its hard. You know how she was Channie and now I sit here and tell myself how worthless I am just like she used to."

I sighed and kissed her forehead. "Y/n your moms gone now. okay? Her false remarks don't matter." She shook her head. "but channie..." I held her face in my hands. "You're going to be okay angel. Everythings going to be okay. I will turn every, and I mean every negative comment of hers into something positive." She nodded and I held my forehead against hers. "Best friends forever." She looked up at me and smiled.

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yumizcorner · 1 year

Text

CEO‘S FAV~

BangChan x reader

A/n: this is for all the people that wanted Chan smut in the poll I posted a few days ago! Have fun :)

„…wich leads to the perfect promotion.“ that was what y/n heard when she came back to reality. She zoned out a long time ago even tho she was at work,at a business meeting. She worked at a famous company wich made spots to promote products and other things. Her position wasn’t to high but she was definitely feared in the company. Y/n always only briefly noticed but behind her back everybody called her "CEO‘s fav". How so? Well the CEO of the company,BangChan, often treats her better than other employees that are literally the same position as her. She always used to think that he was just being nice and,to be honest,she didn’t mind it. At the end of the day it was good for her. She rarely got the hard work,more the work that was leading to interaction with Chan wich was the explanation for her second nickname people called her; "Bangs banging assistant". It was obvious that "banging" was meant in a sexual way since one employee once pointed out that Chan looked at her ass…not only once so that person thought they fucked. Of course people believed it,it would explain everything. But that wasn’t true. They never ever touched each other in any way except a handshake,yet y/n can’t deny that she’s attracted to her boss.

„thanks for your attention. You can go back to your working place now.“ the second CEO said wich made all of the people,that had a seat at the long table,stand up and leave the room. Y/n was ,what an coincidence,the last one to leave the room but she never left it since BangChan stoped her. „Mrs. L/N could you please stay“ she squeezed her eyes tight and turned around,being a little scared. „Sure mr. Bang“ she answered with a smile. „take a seat please.“ the girl did as he told her,being afraid that he might noticed that she zoned out and that she would get scolded for it now. „What’s the matter?“ she asked. „Well…“ he got up from his chair and walked around the table,leaning against it while looking down at the sitting girl. „I think you heard of the rumours that are trending in the company right now“ y/n looked at him a little confused. „The one’s about your fucking other employees with higher positions. That you’re only where you’re at right now because you fucked several people in the company.“ you gasped a little when he said that. Y/n never really heard that people said that. Maybe she briefly noticed it but she never realized that it was a big thing at her working place.

„uhm- I Never knew this was a big thing,sir.“ she said truly. „The rumours or that you fucked them?“ he asked and cocked an eyebrow at her with an amused smile. Y/n looked at him with wide eyes. „n-no I didn‘t do anything with anyone here.“ Chris just nodded at her answer and looked at the floor. „Will I get fired now?“ she asked after a short moment of silence. Chan looked at her and giggled softly. „How could I fire one of my favourite employees.“ he said wich made y/n sigh in relief. „Thank you, Mr. Bang.“ she smiled. The girl already wanted to get up and walk outside but Chan stopped her once again. „We‘re not done yet“ with that,y/n got afraid again. She knew that she did her job well but she was still afraid that someone better would take her place.

Y/n turned around again and looked at Chan. „hm?“ she looked at him confused. „There are also rumours that you think I’m really attractive..“ her cheeks turned slightly red at his words. Maybe also because she was mad at her best friend in the company who was the only person that knew how she talked about Chan when he was not around and perhaps talked about her with other people. Her mind went blank after a short time because her boss was way closer now than before. He stood in front of her,both of their chests almost touching. His finger found the way to her chin,right before lifting her head with it. „Are these rumours also false?“ he asked while looking into her eyes. Y/n got obviously nervous as she tried to reduce the eye contact with Chan. „Well…I can’t deny that I might said that once….or twice.“ Chris removed his finger from her face and chuckled a little. „So you think I’m attractive?“ y/n just nodded. She highly believed that she would just walk outside of his office and go back to work even tho she wouldn’t be able to focus,for the rest of the day,at all but that was surely not what Chan planned.

„would you let me fuck you?“ he asked as he was suddenly behind her,chest firmly pressing against her back. Her eyes widened at his question as she started to brabble. „You’re my boss,sir. That is not allowed and it could make you lose your job and you‘d get a bad reputation and-“ she got cut of by the guy behind her. „I didn’t ask for the consequences if we get caught,I asked if you would.“ he spoke softly,his breath tickling her ear. „I-I-“ y/n couldn’t speak anymore. She was to shy to admit that she just wanted to rip his clothes off of him and let him destroy her right away. To her surprise,she didn’t need to admit. Chris started to spread kisses all over her neck. She closed her eyes as a soft sigh left her lips. „If you want me to stop you can just say it and I’ll back up and pretend nothing ever happened but once I started I might not be able to stop myself so please answer me. Do you want me to fuck you y/n?“ he never used her first name. It made her think that he was really serious wich was good because so was she. „Yes“ she breathed out. „right answer baby“ a shiver went down her spine as he called her that pet name and she suddenly noticed how wet she was already. She ignored it the whole time,being overwhelmed by Chan’s presence itself.

Y/n snapped back to reality when she felt how her Boss lifted her up and set her down on his desk. He stood between her legs and connected their lips without any hesitation. The girl kissed him back while enjoying the feeling of his soft and warm lips. „Please~ I need you,sir“ she mumbled against his lips. Chan groaned and cursed a little under his breath. „God I’ve waited for this moment for so long“ he said as he moved her panties to the side. He knew that when he saw she wore a skirt today,it would be way easier to make things work. He was after all a busy man and the next meeting was waiting for him right away.

As much as he enjoyed fucking her,he had no time to waste. She was definitely more for him than just a help to relief stress in his breaks and he would definitely make it up to her but right now he just had to make it quick.

Chan started to prepare the woman by inserting two fingers into her. He threw his head back and hissed as he felt how tight and warm she was. „Please I’m ready and I can take it just please fuck me already.“ she said as she looked into his eyes. „you held back the whole entire time,yet you’re still here begging for me.“ he chuckled as he stroked himself a few times before entering her. Y/n gasped a little. She could tell from his whole everything that he was big but she didn’t expect him to be this big. He was long and also thick. He wouldn’t fill her. He would stretch her and she was all in for it. „Shit You’re so big,sir“ Chan twitched inside of her wich made her notice that he liked it when she called him "sir". She remembered that he often used to stare at her with that smirk on his face when she said it and it made her realize how blind she was the whole entire time.

She moaned out as she felt how Chan started to move. The whole desk moved in the waves of the man‘s thrusting,the sounds it made going a long with the moans of y/n. „You‘re so tight,pretty girl.“ he said as he sped up his pace. Chan‘s Hand found it’s way down to y/n‘s mouth as the girl started to moan louder with every thrust he did. „Do you want us to get caught?“ She shook her head,eyes being teary from all the pleasure. „Wouldn’t you like that hmm? Put on a show for whoever walks in? Welcome our new clients with your tight pussy being ripped“ she clenched around him hardly wich made Chan scoff. He never imagined it to feel that good. He took his blazer and stuffed it into the girls mouth. He placed his hands on her waist and started to fuck her harder. „Do you want it inside? Want me to fill you up?“ Y/n nodded repeatedly and cried out as much as she could wich send him over the edge. Seeing one of his employees laying under him and crying,being completely destroyed by him made him cum. A warm feeling started to spread inside of y/n wich caused her to roll her eyes to the back of her head.

Chan slowly removed his blazer out of her mouth and gave her a tiny kiss on the cheek. He helped her to fix her clothing and then send his assistant to help her get out of the building. He told her to stay home for the next few days and recover from their little session and so she did.

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ka0ila · 10 months

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Chan [Christopher] short

You finished with your vocal practice. Tired and with a sore throat you came out of the studio leaving seungmin behind. You were starving and ordered some pizza as it was the first thing that popped up in your mind. As the pizza arrived you went to Chan's room to offer him some. You knew he hadn't eaten anything as he was preoccupied with his work. Well, it was totally understandable as the comeback was next week, but he still needs to take care of his health. With a soft smile on your face, you walked towards his work room. You gently twisted the door knob as quitely as you could and as you thought, he was sitting there with his headset and composing something. You made your way towards him and patted on his back.

"Chris?" you called out his name in a soft, tired voice. He mumbled giving you a sign to continue speaking. "Do you need anything? i can help you if you need anyth-" he cut you off and replied, "no, i'm fine" he said without sparing a glance at you. "oh, um. are you perhaps hungry? i got pizza" you said trying your best to keep a smile on your face. You were really tired. "I do not need anything, let me be" he said in a more stern and harsh tone. He's never like this. I understand he's stressed and needs his space but he can't just not eat. "take a break, here, i got your favourite topping too." You said in a calm way, i mean you tried to. As you were unapacking the box, you heard him huff, "Why can't you fucking let me be (y/n)? For fuck's sake. I told you i don't want to eat anything. Why can't you ever listen to me? Why are you literally so clingy and annoying all the time? Can you not give me a little space? All i need right now is space. The last thing i want to hear is your annoying little voice. I don't want food (y/n), all i need is to you to leave." He snapped at you. You were too tired to argue, you were just so exhausted. "fine, alright. Here's the pizza. Eat it whenever the fuck you feel like. You didn't have to be so difficult." your smile dropped. You left the pizzas there, you just lost your appetite. You were too exhausted to even cry at this point. You silently got up and left. After-all he didn't mean all that, right?

"Seungmin? i'm heading back to the dorms, wanna join?"

"Yeah, cool"

I just continued to work on the song i was composing after she left. I didn't really give much thought to what i said, i was too tired to. All i know is, i was at the wrong, ah fuck. After finishing with my work, my eyes fell upon the pizza boxes, and the guilt hit in. Did she want to eat with me? Has she eaten? Fuck, i really messed up. I sighed while rubbing my forehead and shutting my eyes. Why did i snap at her? She was really calm throughout. It's not only me who's stressed. The comeback is stressing all of us, i can’t be selfish. I got up and cleaned up my desk, ready to head to the dorms. I picked up the pizzas and took them with me. (Y/n) usually stays at my room, i'm not sure if i'll find her there, so i went to her room, she wasn't there either. I sighed and went to the common kitchen to keep the pizza boxes in the frige. "hey, chan" Han was sitting on the dining table busy on his phone. "hi." i replied in a tired tone. "ay, i'm starving. Can i please have those?" he said looking at the boxes in my hand. "Sure, warm them up" i replied as i handed them over to him. "by any chance, do you know where's (y/n)?" i asked him desperately. "Oh, yeah. She's with Seung and Hyun in Seungmin's room." he replied munching on his pizza, she really did get my favourite topping. "oh. okay, thankyou." Instead of heading back to my room, i decided to go visit Seungmin's room. As i getting closer to his room, i could hear them laughing. I smiled a bit and sighed. I knocked on the door. After a bit hyunjin opened the door. "Hey channn" He said with a huge smile. "hi." i got in smiling back at him. I diverted my eyes towards (y/n). She was giggling with seungmin. "hello, old man" Seungmin teased me. I groaned. As (y/n) saw me her smile dropped and looked away. She was hurt. After a while, (y/n) got up "I'm gonna go sleep, really tired. Goodnight" she flashed a soft smile at them but not me. "Can i come with you?" i said while getting up with her. She didn't say anthing. Oh fuck, i shouldnt have asked that. "Nevermind, i'm sorry it's fin-" i said nervously only to get cut off by her "sure, yeah, whatever." she said and looked away. As she walked outside of the room, i followed. The whole walk to her room was just silent. I was nervous and bottled up with guilt. She sighed as we reached her room's door. She opened the door as i spoke, "babe?" silence. "i'm really sorry for what i said. i swear i didn-" she cut me off with a tight hug, i hugged her back immediately, that caught me off guard. "it's alright, i understand." she said in a soothing voice. Lord, i truly love her. "i didn't mean it. what i said, i swear i didnt mean everything i said. i didn't mean to snap, it was unintentional, i-" i snuggled my face in her neck, "chris, it's okay, we both are exhausted, we both didn't mean to snap." "i love you, let's snuggle, yeah?"

━━━━━━ ◦ ✤ ◦ ━━━━━━

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jisunghannie · 3 months

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Loser 4

PAIRING: Bangchan x fem!reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of jagi/jagiya, mentions of Chan’s (FINE) accent, Dom!Chan x Sub!Reader, dirty-talk, praise, oral sex (fem!receive), teasing, LOTS of foreplay, light spanking, mentions and light actions of a second/multiple rounds

SUMMARY: Chan starts to regret his decision about the bet with his members about who would win DDD. He then saw you and thought you would gladly help him, which he was right about.

WORD COUNT: 2,084

A/N:

So sorry this took so long to release! I've been having the biggest writing block and will try to finish posting these. I am definitely feeling more of my angst stories so stay updated to see my sad angst stories!

DDD MASTERLIST

Chan had proposed the idea but deep down inside somewhere he knew that he was going to lose. When he had heard that Changbin had lost, he knew it was over since Minho was going to lose and Hyunjin was in a hit or miss situation. It was something that he took seriously. Especially because he wanted to take you to a romantic getaway. He was nervous that it wouldn’t work out though just because he might’ve lost.

He was completely panicked and didn’t know what to do. Then he remembered that he hadn’t completed his daily task. It was seriously becoming tedious for him. He felt more exhausted these days. The more he thought about it the more that he dreaded getting to the task at hand.

Just while he was deep in thought he heard the door open. He didn’t pay any mind, thinking it was one of his members until he heard you.

“Jagiya, is everything okay?” You asked him as he looked up at you. He noticed your damp hair. “Did you already shower?” He asked as you noticed his tired Australian accent pick up. You chuckled at hearing his tired tone of voice. “You sound so tired Channie. Are you alright?” You asked him as you ran your fingers through his hair. He moved his head up to your hand, similar to a cat as you smiled at the adorable gesture.

“I’m fine, just a bit stressed about the whole situation.” You looked at him confused, “What do you mean Channie?” You asked as he looked up at you with his sleepy eyes. “I regret making that bet because to be honest, I don’t think us hyungs would win. I think the Maknae might win this time around.” He admitted as you smiled at him and kissed his forehead. “It’s okay Channie, you tried your best and that’s all that matters. Okay?” You tried to reason with him as he nodded reluctantly. You still felt bad though.

“How far are you for today?” You asked him as he shook his head, “It’s hopeless.” He said as you cupped his cheeks. “How far?” You asked again as he blushed lightly, “Only 19 times…” He said as your eyes widened, letting go of his face. “Yeah you are so screwed, we have 2 hours until midnight and your endurance level is too high to cum another 4 times in 2 hours.” You told him as he sighed, “Until next year.” He said as you looked at him. “Unless,” You said as he looked up. “You can promise me that you’ll try your best to cum as quickly as you can.” You told him as he smirked, “I promise I can jagi…” He said in a low voice, almost growling, his accent didn’t make it any better.

You went crazy hearing his accent mixed with his current flirty tone. You looked at him again, using your body as an allure to get his drive up because he was definitely getting yours up.

“I thought I told you not to use that kind of tone with me.” You said, your cheeks dusted pink. He just chuckled simply. “I know, I know. But how can I not use it when a literal goddess stands before me.” He said, holding your hand. You smiled at him. “Oh shush you tease.” You told him as he chuckled.

You were only in a bathrobe as he was in a big shirt with the sleeves cut, revealing his broad shoulders and big arms, he wore baggy sweats so if he had an erection you couldn’t tell. You tried not to think about it as you sat on the bed. “How do you want us to do it this time? Mutual masturbation? Me jerking you off? Actual s-” You were cut off by Chan’s bold kiss.

“Just stop talking, talk to me with your body jagiya…” He said desperately kissing your neck earning noises from you. You were surprised by his actions. You didn’t know that Chan could become such a way around you. It was kind of exhilarating. You were so caught up in the moment and in your thoughts that you didn’t even feel Chan undo your bathrobe ribbon and pull it off, dropping it to the floor.

“Channie-” You were cut off again but this time it was by Chan giving you a light spank causing you to cover your mouth. “I told you to speak to me with your body jagi…” He said as you continued to let your hand cover your mouth. You were surprised because Chan never acted this way. The way he behaved was completely different. Usually he was so much more gentle and more vanilla but he was way more enticing and demanding. You just obeyed him as you knew how much winning this competition meant to him. It was definitely something to be interested in.

“Channie, this is certainly new for you especially.” You said as he just gave a deep chuckle.

God you can hear the growl in his chuckle.

You were smiling ear to ear from hearing his chuckle. “Jagiya, you really are trying to test me right now aren’t you?” He said as you smirked to him, “What if I am?” You asked as he pulled you into a kiss. “Then you’re doing a great job jagiya…” He said breathlessly, as he continued to kiss your neck, leaving marks everywhere and soon slipped off your bathrobe.

He saw your delicate body and felt so lucky that this was a sight all for him. He was speechless as he kissed your inner thighs. “I’m so lucky…” He said, his nose touching your thigh, nearing your core. You squealed quietly and squirmed over him as he smiled at your reaction. It was definitely a sight he loved but it was something new.

He placed you on top of his face. You were literally sitting on his face. Nervous about this you stood up slightly and hovered over his face. He then placed you back down to sit on his face once again. “Channie-” You were cut off again. “It’s okay y/n, I want you to sit on my face please..?” He begged as you blushed and relaxed a bit but he knew you were holding back so he held onto your thighs and placed your body on his face as he began to use his tongue before you could let out a sentence.

You covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans. Chan didn’t like that however so he proceeded to use his fingers to stimulate you even further. That made you move your hips wanting more friction between you guys. You blushed looking down and seeing Chan eat you out. It was the hottest thing ever. But you knew that at this rate you would cum soon so you just waited to see what Chan would do. However you never expected what to come next.

Chan used one of his hands and began to insert his fingers inside, his other hand he used to play with your clit, as he teased your entrance with his tongue. You let out the most muffled, yet loud moan ever. Hell, Chan wasn’t even expecting it. He knew that you were feeling good but you reacting like that made him feel proud, in more than one.

You didn’t want to let him hear you like this but no matter how many times you tried not to moan out loud he felt as if he needed to make you moan even louder. He was definitely pussy drunk right now but it didn’t make a difference to you. You were surprised by what he did next however.

He lifted you up and moved you on his chest. He traced his fingers against your bare back. You shivered by how it caused chills down your spine.

“You want it inside?” He asked bluntly as you nodded. You cared less about being bratty at the moment. “Use your words.” He told you as you whined. First, he wanted you to speak with your body and now your words? He was complicated. “Yes…” You replied as he smirked and massaged your ass. “Yes what?” He teased as you gritted your teeth. “Yes… I want it inside…” You finally spoke out as he smirked.

You tried to move off him as he moved you back. He placed your body on his hips. “Show me just how much you want me then.” He told you as you smirked and slowly reached down to his pants. He was so going to regret this.

You kissed his bulge through his boxers as he growled. “Stop teasing.” He said as you just smirked. You then took off his boxers and lined yourself up to him. As you tried to go down slowly, he growled again as you giggled not expecting any of the events that happened next. He then grabbed your hips and pushed you down as you let out a loud moan. He smiled at your reaction, your body tensing up from the sudden action. He then began to thrust up causing you to throw your hands on your mouth not knowing if the others were still in the living room and could hear you guys.

“Just let those noises out, let them know that I’m going to be winning this challenge.” He said as you shook your head. He smirked as he pulled your wrists back as you bit your lower lip to muffle out your moans.

While he thought it was so cute, you found it humiliating to think that the other members could probably hear you guys through the thin walls of the shared house. He then began to get hungrier for your moans and put you on all fours. “You might wanna hold onto the sheets,” He warned, “You won’t be able to stop shaking.” He said as he began to thrust deeply into you, hitting all the right spots.

You gave in and moaned into the mattress clutching to the sheets for dear life as his lips touched your back and nape which soon found their way to your ears, his hot breath touching your ear as you heard him give you a light chuckle. “Told you didn’t I?” He said with that damn accent of his.

He then felt you clench around him with his words as he smirked, “I make you feel that good don’t I?” He asked you as you nodded, “Use your words jagi…” He said, his voice straining at the end, revealing that he was close too. “Yes… God yes…” You said simply as he smiled and pulled you in for a kiss. One more thrust was all it took for you to reach your climax as the intense foreplay already brought you to the edge. After you came, he pulled out and came on your back.

“God jagiya you’re perfect…” He praised as he pulled you in for another kiss. “I still have so many more to finish in order to beat the challenge.” He said as you looked at the time. “Yeah… and you are all out of time to complete it…” You said breathless as he looked at the time. “And? We still can, right?” He asked with his accent, knowing that you wouldn’t refuse him like that. Which he was right as you gave in.

He then wiped himself clean to make sure that none of his cum would get inside as he lined up with your entrance. “Wait! I’m still-” You were cut off his thrust inside, your body still sensitive came around him the minute he thrusted inside as he looked shocked. “Did you just-” You cut him off, “Yes! I was trying to tell you that I was still sensitive…” You said as he chuckled. “You are so cute.” He said as he kissed your breasts. “Let me know when I can go again.” He said.

The next morning you were regretting your decision because you couldn’t walk the next day because you guys had practically pulled an all-nighter finishing all his rounds.

Jinnie: Chan lost.

LK: Whattt how?

Jinnie: I woke up early and still heard him and y/n going since last night.

Yongbokkie: Holy, is y/n okay?

Binnie: Doubt it

Minnie: Chan is such a needy guy.

Hannie: Goodness

Jinnie: Right.

Channie: Go back to sleep and stop talking about me!!

I.Nnie: Then there were 4…

Taglist:

@juskz @annybah @its-hannjisung @cutiespaghetti

#skz #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids #skz smut #skz bang chan #skz chris #skz chan x reader #skz channie #skz chan smut #skz chan scenarios #skz bangchan #stray kids chris #stray kids channie #stray kids chan imagines #stray kids chan smut

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blossom-hwa · 4 months

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Worn-Out Soles [1] | b.c

pairing: Chan x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au warnings: kidnapping, injury, death word count: 10.1k notes: — this is a retelling of the 12 dancing princesses :) inspiration taken from the original fairy tale, the Barbie movie, and the retelling by Jessica Day George, Princess of the Midnight Ball. — mc in this story has multiple sisters as befitting the original fairy tale, but they are not blood-related for inclusivity reasons. In a world where magic lies in the arts, you are a princess of Terpsichani, the kingdom whose power comes from dance. Loved by many, you care for your country deeply, though in truth your heart only belongs to the palace's royal cobbler, Chan, who holds equal affection for you in return. It's a love that could never be, you both know, though it doesn't stop you from pining. But then you go missing on the final night of your kingdom's Moonlight Festival, leaving behind nothing but the memories of a final dance. When your sister brings news of your disappearance to Chan's doorstep, there's only one thing he can do. Follow you into the depths of hell to bring you back—or die trying. Part 1 >> Part 2

To Spin a Yarn | Stray Kids Masterlist

When the soft rap of your lady in waiting sounds at the door, you barely look up before calling her in. Out of the corner of your eye, Chaeyoung curtsies in the doorway. “Your Highness.”

You continue scribbling at the papers strewn around your desk. “Yes?”

“The royal cobbler has arrived.”

The pen in your hand stops midair.

Slowly, slowly, so as to keep the smile twitching on your lips from taking up your entire face, you raise your head to see Chaeyoung standing in the doorway. “Have my sisters been informed?”

Her eyes glint with mischief and the knowledge that you haven’t managed to fool her at all. “Of course.”

“Well.” You stand up, placing the pen carefully down. Steadfastly ignoring Chaeyoung’s grin, you step around the desk. “I suppose we will all just have to go and meet him, then.”

. . . . .

Yuna’s sharp squeal hits Chan’s ears even before he steps foot into the pavilion, which is all the warning he needs before five princesses accost him at the entrance, bouncing on their toes. “Chan!”

“Hello, Your Highnesses,” he laughs, maneuvering his heavy box around them. “What makes you so excited today?”

“Did you bring our shoes?” Ryujin asks eagerly.

Chan frowns, but not before letting them see the glint in his eye. “Was I supposed to bring shoes, now?”

Amidst the chorus of whines from the youngest and giggles from the older girls, one voice joins the fray. “Well, my sisters would be dearly disappointed if you hadn’t.”

Chan’s heart skips a beat in his chest as he turns around to meet your smile. You stand in the pavilion’s entrance from where he just came, the flower-wreathed arch framing your image perfectly under the sun shining bright in the sky.

A sharp elbow jabs him from behind. “Say something,” Jisung hisses. “You’re staring.”

Chan can feel his ears going red. “Would you be disappointed too, Your Highness?” he asks, making a mental note to flick his apprentice’s forehead later.

“I believe I would.” You step forward with that warm smile still on your face, and for not the first time in his life, Chan wonders what good he must have done in a past life to deserve standing in your presence like this, a sunflower forever basking under the light of your grin. “You know we all look forward to your shoes, Chan.”

Chaeyoung, your lady in waiting, mutters something under her breath. Chan doesn’t quite hear it, but from the giggles of your sisters and the glare you flash at her, it can’t have been anything good.

Chan’s ears must be flaming by now. Putting down the box, he musters his most natural smile. “Well, good thing I won’t have to disappoint any of you,” he says, undoing the latch. “Come closer, Your Highnesses—I hope you are pleased with these.”

Oohs and aahs and squeals of excitement slowly begin to fill the pavilion as Chan and his apprentices begin to hand out the shoes. It’s with no small pride that he takes in the cries of delight from each of the princesses—with each pair made of the finest quality material, hand stitched and sewed with sparkling thread in intricate designs, there is a reason Chan trusts very few people to help with his handiwork. He grins as the five young princesses begin to spin around the pavilion, joyous grace evident in every one of their movements…

You step forward shyly, and Chan snaps back to earth. “Anything for me?” you ask.

“Are you kidding?” Jisung snorts before Chan has the chance to respond. “He spent days on yours!”

“By all the stars—I spend days on all of them,” Chan hisses, praying his hair covers his ears.

“You don’t usually spend two entire weeks trying to get each design right, though.”

Chan stares at his second freckled apprentice, who only stares back with an innocent expression. Jisung he can understand being a pain in the neck, but Felix?

Your shy laugh sounds like bells. “Am I that demanding a customer?”

“Oh—oh, stars, no.” Chan swallows hard, ducking into the box for the last pair of shoes. “I just—” he holds out the box and tries not to react when your fingers brush his as you take it, eyes focused intently on his face—“I just wanted to make them… right.”

Right? Right? Seriously, that was the only word you could come up with?

You start to untie the box, completely oblivious to Chan’s inner imminent mental breakdown. Slowly, too slowly, you lift the shoes from their cushioned spot inside, Chaeyoung taking the box from your hands. For a moment, you don’t react.

Chan starts to lose it.

You don’t like them. You hate them. The design isn’t what you wanted, there are flaws in the fabric, something is terribly wrong with the shoes despite all the time he spent on them—he’s messed it up this time like he always feared, seriouslymessed up—

Your eyes meet his once more, sparkling brighter than the sun and the stars. “I—Chan.” You step forward, holding the shoes to your heart. “Chan, they’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

Chan’s knees nearly give out right then and there. Thank all the stars.

“You’re—I—” You look down at the shoes and back at him, as though you’ve lost your own words. Chan’s heart soars with the shine in your expression. “You do this every time,” you say, almost laughing. “Words can’t describe how much talent you possess, how hard you must have worked for this. These are truly…a work of art.”

He swallows down the overwhelming smile itching to reveal itself on his face, forces it into something smaller, more manageable, and infinitely less manic than it would have been. “I’m glad you like them, Your Highness.”

“Chan! Chan!” Ryujin and Chaeryeong come running up, Yeji following behind with a half annoyed, half apologetic glance that she flashes at you. Chan watches as you turn to them, smiling first at Yeji with something in your eyes that immediately wipes the worry and annoyance from your sister’s face, then at the younger girls clamoring for your attention. “Play us music, please! Like you did before!”

You shoot an apologetic look at him. “Girls, don’t demand things from Chan,” you admonish before turning back. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. It would be my honor.” He smiles at the young princesses. “Give me a moment to tune, yes?”

The two of them cheer before skipping away, Yeji corralling them towards the center of the pavilion. You look at him, expression soft. “You really don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” Chan says, pulling out his small flute. “But I enjoy it, and I have some time before my next appointment.” You still don’t look convinced, so he speaks again. “Truly, Your Highness. Your sisters are adorable. I like playing my flute, and I like watching you all dance. It’s a pleasure.”

Finally, you relent. “All right then, Chan. Although—” You stop for a moment, then seem to set your jaw with determination. “May I ask, will you be at the festival?”

Chan blinks. The Moonlight Festival, only the most important festival of the year, the festival that sees the most foreign royalty and dignitaries traveling to your kingdom to partake in the celebrations? “…Yes, I suppose I will.”

“Right.” Your lips curl in light embarrassment. “I…if you happen to be by the palace that night…”

Behind you, Chaeyoung looks extremely amused. So do Jisung and Felix.

That does not bode well for either Chan or you.

“I know the chances are not large, but if we see each other…” You swallow hard, but your eyes don’t stray from his even as your younger sisters run up to try and drag your attention away. “Only if you can, since I’m sure you’ll be quite in demand, please save a dance for me.”

Ryujin and Chaeryeong pull you off, then, eagerly shouting for you to put on your shoes and spin with them in a dance. And as Chan watches you laugh with them, beginning to whirl across the pavilion with graceful steps as light as air, joy spilling from your fingertips into the flowers and grasses and leaves…

All he can think of is his answer, which is of course.

. . . . .

“…Your Highness?”

You jerk up with a start. Immediately you tear your eyes from the magnificent pair of shoes sitting by your doorway, but it's too late. When you turn your head, Chaeyoung’s face is staring right into yours.

“Stars, Chaeyoung!” You jump again. “What are you doing?”

“I should be asking you that, Your Highness.” She pulls back, one eyebrow raised in an arch. “You’ve been zoned out for the past five minutes.”

It’s the shoes. It’s the damn shoes. You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. Why must Chan’s handiwork distract you so much? Can’t he make them a little less ogle-worthy, less intricate and delicate and graceful and just—a type of beautiful that words can’t describe—

“Are you sure it’s just the shoes you like?” Chaeyoung asks, the other eyebrow rising to join the first. You don’t even need to lift your face to see the smirk on her lips, you can hear it just fine. “Or perhaps the cobbler who made them?”

“Stop it,” you mutter, dragging yourself up once more. You can’t resist the urge to let your gaze wander over the shoes again, though, imagining the care and devotion that must have gone into every stitch, every design. It almost pains you to think about dancing in them, dirtying the silk and ruining Chan’s handiwork as you wear them out.

Chan. You just manage to catch yourself before you sigh. His face dances before you in your memories, his bashful smile, his dark hair that always seems to be ruffled by the wind, his sweet eyes crinkling as he laughs. He’s lovely—beautiful—and you can’t fight the heat crawling up your cheeks whenever his strong, calloused fingers brush yours every time he hands you his latest masterpiece.

He’s beautiful, to be sure. Handsome in the most attractive way to you. But far more attractive is the love he brings to everything and everyone he touches, as though every person he meets couldn’t help but fall in love with his soft kindness, his quiet joy, his gentle earnestness that comes with everything he does. You see it in every delicate golden stitch on the white satin slippers he made you for the upcoming festival. You see it in every seam he sews on all of the other slippers he’s made for your sisters. You feel it in every scant touch you share, see it in his eyes whenever you manage to meet his gaze.

Stars above, all you can think of is the dance you might share with him on the final night of the festival. If you see him, and if he sees you.

With a sigh, you finally look back at your lady in waiting, apologies already on your lips. “I’m sorry, Chaeyoung. I must seem a mess.”

“You kind of do.” Chaeyoung’s blunt tone lifts the corners of your lips. “But it’s the festival. The preparations always drive everyone mad. And combined with your little star-crossed romance—” she easily dodges the swipe of your hand, giggling all the way—“I’m sure you’re very overwhelmed.”

The word stop finds its way onto your tongue once more, but you don’t let it fall because it would be useless. And besides, Chaeyoung’s right—you are overwhelmed. You love the Moonlight Festival, really you do, but being one of those in charge of organizing the largest event of the kingdom every year makes you want to scream to the heavens sometimes.

Maybe you should try that. It sounds like it would relieve some stress.

“Well.” You look down at the piece of paper you were scribbling on before Chan’s craft distracted you (as well as thoughts of his dark hair and smiling eyes as he handed you the shoes). “At least the guest list is finalized. I think.”

“Oh?” Chaeyoung cocks her head. “Who’s coming?”

“An assortment of foreign royals—Joshua and his entourage will be here, thank the stars—and some of the ambassadors whom we sent overseas will return for the occasion.” You flip through a few more sheets. “Of course we also had to account for all the nobility who will be staying at or near the palace during the week.”

“Are Jun and Jeongyeon coming back?”

A real smile spreads across your face at the mention of two of your best friends. “Yes, they are,” you say. “With Minghao and Sana.”

Chaeyoung grins. “It will be wonderful to see them.”

“Surely it will.” You heave yourself up from behind the desk, clutching the sheaf of papers in hand. “Come with me to drop these off with my father?”

. . .

The king’s quarters are in the wing completely opposite from yours and your sisters’. You have no actual idea why this is the case, but you like to joke deprecatingly to Chaeyoung (when no one else is around) that it’s because he has no intention of seeing any of you more than he must. Which is a fair assumption, in your opinion. He doesn’t even show up to dinner these days, just takes his meal with his advisors or foreign dignitaries alone. Unless he decides he also needs you.

The guards part ways upon your entrance into the west wing, bowing respectfully as you pass. You give them a brief nod before stopping in front of your father’s door, knocking twice on the wood.

“Who is it?”

“Y/N.”

“Come in.”

Any trace of your previous smiles falls away as you step into the cold room. Your father hardly looks up from his desk even as you approach. “What is it?”

“I have the finalized guest list, as well as the other preparation details you asked for today.” You place the papers in front of him. “That is all. Please let me know if there are any issues.”

All you get is a hum in response.

Only years of having dealt with this behavior keep you from doing much more than press your lips into a thin, thin line. “I will be off, then.”

You’re opening the door when he speaks again. “Y/N.”

There’s enough time to exchange one bemused glance with Chaeyoung before you turn around. “Yes, Father?”

He’s actually looking at you this time. In his eyes swims some sort of emotion—if you didn’t know better you’d say it was something like regret or worry, but why would he feel anything like that?—as he scrutinizes your face. His throat bobs as though he swallowed something. As though he has something he wants to say, but can’t. Or won’t.

“Father?”

All the emotion falls off his face as soon as the word hits the air. “Don’t forget that you will take dinner with me tonight,” he says, eyes dropping back to the papers on his desk. “The convoy from Ourania will have arrived by then.”

You frown. Since when have you ever forgotten an appointment and needed him to remind you? There was no reason for him to have said that, none at all. In fact, you almost feel offended, but then you look at him again.

A bobbing throat. A surreptitious swallow.

Maybe he did really have something to say, but decided against it at the last minute.

Whatever. You shake off the lingering discomfort. If what he wanted to say was truly important, he would have spoken. Your king may be an absent father, but he doesn’t generally shirk his duties. “Yes, Father,” you say, then shut the door behind you.

. . . . .

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s moping, Lix.”

“Well, he should stop.”

“I am not moping,” Chan says loudly as he dumps scraps of leather into a pile in the far back of the shop.

A beat of silence follows. Then Jisung snorts. “That’s exactly what someone who’s moping would say.”

“Or, it could be that I’m not moping, and you’re misunderstanding things completely.” Chan turns to his two apprentices, both staring owl-eyed at him and his probably very red ears. “Did neither of you hear me ask if one of you could go out and get something for us to start dinner?”

Jisung’s shit-eating grin turns sheepish. “I forgot.”

Chan tries to hide an exasperated smile with a sigh. “It’s fine, just go now.”

Without missing a beat, Jisung grabs Felix, and with a shouted farewell, the two of them go crashing out the door.

Chan returns to cleaning the mess in his workshop, putting away tools, tossing leather scraps into the scrap bag as they emerge from corners he didn’t even know existed. He is not moping. If anything, he’s—daydreaming. Of something. Moping implies that he is upset. He is anything but.

“If we see each other…please save a dance for me.”

He snorts a little. As if the answer would be anything but yes. Which you probably know, because over the years he’s learned that despite his attempts to hide his affections he is still extremely obvious. And if Jisung and Felix are to be believed—which, unfortunately, they often are, because even if they’re loud and obnoxious and love to tease him at any point in time, they’re very observant and usually right—

You hold a similar affection for him, too.

The knowledge doesn’t do much, though. Because for all Chan loves you and prays that his love is returned, it wouldn’t matter if it was. In fact, it might even be for the worse. You are a princess and he is but a cobbler, a commoner without magic, which means he could never be yours. If this were one-sided, at least you might still have a chance at happiness elsewhere. But if you truly do love him back…

Chan swallows down a wave of guilt. It’s not his fault, he knows logically. He doesn’t control your feelings any more than he controls his. But in moments like this, he wishes more than anything that things could be different. That he might have magic, that he might have been born a noble, that he might have even the tiniest of chances with you.

Hm. Maybe he is moping. Chan sighs. He should stop. He should focus on something better—namely the fact that he might finally have the chance to dance with you in just a couple of weeks. A smile begins to lift his lips at the thought as he exits the workroom to wait for his apprentices to return.

As if on cue, the door opens with a loud bang. Two pairs of feet tramp indoors, and then there’s the sound of something thumping onto the table.

It’s suspiciously quiet. Especially for his loudmouth apprentices.

Someone shushes the other. Probably Jisung hushing Felix. Silence ensues.

“…Is he still moping?”

“Obviously, Lix.”

Chan sighs.

. . . . .

The week before the festival brings with it flowers, paintings, gifts from envoys from countries near and far, foreign royalty settling into the palace with their entourage or sending ambassadors if, for some terrible reason, they can’t make it this year. Two days before the full moon, you’re pretty sure you haven’t sat down in over twelve hours—you ate your lunch standing in a corner of the kitchen, and only because Yeji dragged you there under threat of knocking you out for several hours so you could take a break.

Beloved sister, even if not by blood. Also a royal (literally) pain in your behind sometimes. But a needed one.

The palace bustles with controlled chaos, servants in your country’s colors and those of so many foreign lands mingling in the halls as they scurry from room to room carrying linens and luggage and trays of food. They’ve nearly crashed into you more than once, but who can fault them for trying to do their job? It’s all you’re trying to do, too.

(“Chaeyoung, tell me something that will get me through this,” you ask on the third day of this mess, head in your hands as you squat on the floor.

“Well, Your Highness, on the final night of the festival I believe your beloved cobbler may save you a dance.”

She dodges the swipe of your hand with a cackle, but despite what you would have your lady in waiting believe, her words do lift the burden on your heart and make it a little easier to smile.)

Finally, the week before the full moon arrives. You stand with your father in the throne room, looking out into a sea of seated royalty all gazing back, solemn excitement dancing in their eyes.

This is what you’ve been waiting for. What you’ve been planning this festival for—the celebration of the full moon, yes, but also the hum of excitement in this room, what your very country is so known for. Pride swells in your chest and you stand taller on the dais, smoothing the folds of your ceremonial robes—glowing white, accented with curves of darkness for the still not quite full moon. As each day passes, the darkness will fade from your clothes until you and most of the other festivalgoers are clothed only in white, to honor the moon and the night.

Your father finishes his little speech to a smattering of applause through the room. He turns to you and nods curtly.

Dipping your head in reply, you step to the center of the stage, bowing to the audience. “As my father, king of our land and holder of our magic, just said, I first welcome you to our kingdom once more.” Another polite round of applause. Smiling, you begin to relax, letting your mouth move in the words of welcome you’ve practiced so many times that you could say them in your sleep.

That is, until the throne room door opens with an ominous creak, cutting you off mid-sentence.

Confusion rustles through the crowd as people turn their heads to see who dared interrupt such a time-honored tradition. You yourself let your words fade from your lips, eyes narrowing towards the door in time to catch a glimpse of bright, fiery red.

The emblem takes you a moment to place at first. It looks familiar but not in the same way of so many other royal insignias, in the way that you’ve seen it emblazoned on the clothing and jewelry of real, breathing, living people. You have only ever seen this emblem, fire curling around a spiked rose dripping blood, in textbooks. Because this emblem belongs to a kingdom only ever described to you as having risen from the depths of hell itself. Born of death and flames and blood, nothing the pure magic of your land would ever dare to touch—

“His Majesty, the king of Kereseia.”

Your butler bows low, but even from here you can see that he’s trembling. Your eyebrows furrow further—you have questions, many of which will no doubt be directed at him later when this is over and you have a chance to try and figure out just what in the world is happening—but then—

The king himself steps through the doors, flanked by an armored entourage.

Red and black drape his body, gold hung in chains around his shoulders and chest. A crown of blackest metal rests on his forehead, studded with glowing rubies and amethysts, and a matching necklace hangs around his neck. He’s handsome—ridiculously handsome, as though he were carved from stone by the finest sculptors the land of Apollon had to offer—but the haughty curve of his lips sends walls thrusting up around your heart, hardening your mind to his beauty.

He stalks up through the center aisle, coming to a stop level with the first row of seats. His boots click together on the hard floor, a sound that echoes through the now-silent hall.

One dangerously curved eyebrow raises, and a vision comes to you of a curved blade sparkling under the moon, arcing down in a silver flash before it buries itself in someone’s flesh.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” That haughty smile plays cruelly on his lips, sending a shudder up your spine. “I trust you know why I am here.”

Your eyes turn to your father. Outwardly, he doesn’t look as though anything has gone amiss. His fingers, however, clench the arms of his throne with such force they’ve turned almost as pale as the marble itself.

He doesn’t say anything.

“No? Then perhaps I must jog your memory.” The smile disappears, revealing eyes cold as ice despite the fire burning within them. Those sitting the nearest to the king flinch. You gulp, despite yourself. “I believe I was promised an invitation to your famed festival.”

Your father’s jaw twitches.

“Imagine my surprise as these past months came and went, with not a word from Your Majesty’s hand.” The prince’s theatrical sigh echoes throughout the room. “I thought it only fair, then, that I come to receive an explanation of this misunderstanding.” He tilts his head, revealing a jawline as sharp as the imaginary blade still curving in your mind. “One does know, of course, that a promise made to a Kereseian will never be broken.”

You look straight at your father, the king, who sits wordless on his throne. Why isn’t he saying anything?

Are these claims true? you demand through your eyes. Why did you make the promise? Why didn’t you honor it?

What in the world is going on?

Silence stretches in the throne room, echoing off the stone walls and floors. With every second that passes, your fingers clench more tightly in your skirts, itching to say something, anything to rectify this mess even as your heart pounds in fear, but words won’t come to your lips because your mind is still spinning as it tries to understand the prince’s words and the implications they have on your family—

Your father’s voice cuts through the silence. “I am well aware of this.”

Your own eyes widen in shock as gasps fill the room, but he continues. “There must have been a mistake when the invitations were sent.”

The second dangerous eyebrow rises, fire burning sinister in dark eyes. “A mistake.”

For a moment, you really think that fire might come to life and burn this entire room to the ground.

Your father’s eyes don’t waver. “Yes.”

Everyone’s eyes are riveted on the two men, one high on the throne, one standing tall below. Neither of them looks like they will give in anytime soon.

Which means you might all be dead in a matter of minutes, if what you’ve read of Kereseia is true.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Your heart nearly pounds out of your chest as the eyes of the hall come to rest on you, including those of your father and the bloodred king. Surprisingly, your voice doesn’t shake. “Allow me to clarify one thing. It is true, then, that the king had been promised a place in our celebration, and that therefore he should be allowed to participate in our festivities tomorrow.”

The entire hall seems to hold its breath as they await your father’s reply. You’re not sure whether you want him to say yes or no.

“Yes.”

Gods and stars above.

You swallow hard amidst the gasps and whispers, turning back to the king. “Then I must apologize, Your Majesty,” you say as steadily as your thudding heart will allow—anger or fear, which is it? Perhaps some of both. “I was in charge of the festival’s guest list and many of its preparations, and yet I was never made aware of this…promise. I can only suppose that as your family has not…graced ours with your presence in many years, the knowledge of this promise was perhaps misplaced or miscommunicated. For that, I do apologize, and take full responsibility.”

The Kereseian king holds your gaze for one, two, three long seconds. You swallow hard, refusing to look away, but you can feel yourself trembling all over.

Then that deadly, knife-blade smile begins to curve his lips once more, and you have the sudden feeling that you have just made a very, very grave mistake.

“…No,” he finally says slowly, eyes traveling over every inch of your face. “No, you would not have been made aware.”

Even though there is still a healthy distance between you two, the oil in his voice, the deadly beauty of his face, the lascivious sweep of his gaze makes you want to take a step back. As though instead of just looking at you with his own eyes, he’d…licked you, or something, instead.

And beyond that—what does he mean? That you wouldn’t have been made aware? Of course you didn’t realize he was coming—your kingdom has never invited his, as far as you know—and your father never said anything, but his words imply that someone knew and should have told you but that he knew they never would—

A bobbing throat. A surreptitious swallow.

You picture your father behind his desk, that moment of strange emotion you saw in the thin press of his lips to each other. Something he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, perhaps. But something he never did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at your father. His king’s crown stands high and haughty on his head, his hands placed on the golden armrests of his throne, but the skin of his face has drawn tight around his skull, fingers gripping his seat with undue force. You recall the readiness with which he gave his assent to the prince’s demands, the slightest shake in his voice that only a few of you could have heard. As though he knew the prince’s words had been spoken true.

What deal did he make with the kingdom of hell that could have resulted in this?

“Accommodations for you and your entourage will be prepared as soon as possible, Your Majesty.” You try for a smile. “Until then, please feel free to partake in the evening’s activities. I’m sure you will find something to make your journey worthwhile.”

The prince’s handsome smile curls white, sharp. Like a curved dagger’s blade held up to the light, right before it plunges into your eye.

“Yes.” He seems to lean in closer, that knife-blade grin never once faltering from his lips. “I’m sure that I will.”

. . . . .

Year after year, the Moonlight Festival has never failed to bring joy to Chan’s life. When he was young and his parents were alive, they always took him to the night markets, bought him all the sweets their money could spare, and danced with him in the crowded streets, their three giggles echoing off the laughs of everyone else around them. The royal family has never spared expense on these annual celebrations, meant to honor the entity from which Terpsichore, the kingdom’s patron deity, draws her power. All of the most famous dancers in the kingdom swear up and down that they dance better under the full moon, and as Chan laughs and spins from one person to another, joining hands with a woman and her husband before whirling off to yet another joyous stranger, he agrees. The nearly-full moon above glows pale and bright in the dark night sky, lending energy to all those who celebrate on the earth below.

Yet this year, the celebrations are dampened. By no fault of the royal family, of course—even if Chan didn’t know you were the one behind almost all of the planning for this festival, he could say beyond a doubt that this year’s festivities were fantastic, maybe even more dramatic than last year’s. But whispers permeate the dancing, rumors of a kingdom long cut off that has come to Terpsichani for the first time in decades, maybe even centuries.

Kereseia.

Chan doesn’t like to speak ill of anyone, but his parents told him tales of the Kereseians as a child to scare him into behaving. All children are told the same stories, of fire curling around thorny roses and a kingdom eager to kill.

And now they aren’t just stories. The kingdom is actually here, in Chan’s homeland of Terpsichani, allegedly by invitation of the current king.

They haven’t made an appearance in his area, not yet at least. Chan doesn’t expect that they will. He more or less expects them to be like some of the haughtier royalty from other kingdoms, rarely straying from the immediate vicinity of the palace—and for that he is thankful. He’s not sure he wants to come face to face with any member of that entourage.

Though anxiety twists his stomach every time he thinks of you near them, being forced to entertain them throughout this weeklong stay.

It’s not as though he could do much about it, though. He’s just a cobbler in love with a princess, and no matter how he may fancy himself an acquaintance of your family, a friend if he’s being generous, his shoemaking privileges extend about as far as conversation with you. Which is privilege enough. He won’t be greedy. But thinking about you in that palace, being forced to speak with the Kereseian king himself…

Maybe the Kereseians are nicer than he gives them credit for. Chan doesn’t know. But though he hopes that’s true, something tells him that it's probably not.

Whispers still seem to permeate the excitement of the crowds as Chan fights his way to the palace on the final night of the celebrations, though nothing can fully mute his eagerness when he finally muscles his way as close as he can get to the stage. An enclosed area meant for nobility and visiting royalty blocks his full view of the stage, but no matter. The moon will be full tonight, shining from above to illuminate the loveliest spectacle of the entire festival—the Terpsichorean dance.

Named for the goddess of dance, Terpsichore herself, it is the ultimate homage to the moon. Chan knows the dance itself varies by region, but all serve the same purpose and bring the same honor. And of course, in the capital city itself, who would perform the dance but the daughters of the royal family themselves?

Chan just manages to keep himself from blushing. He watched you dance last year and the two years before wearing white and gold slippers he’d crafted himself, and it had only made him fall even more in love with you. Perhaps it’s shallow, but Chan finds it hard to believe anyone in the crowd could feel anything else if they’d seen you spinning about so gracefully in your white robes edged with gold, a dancing ray of the moon herself.

More and more people crowd in as the sun sets further, until the front of the palace is packed with spectators and the sun only just peeks over the horizon. For all the teasing he had to endure from his apprentices when he left early, Chan feels endlessly grateful that he was able to secure a spot near the stage.

Familiar melodies begin to filter in from the musicians around the stage. The crowd begins to settle, eager whispers turning into cheers as the introduction begins for your piece. By the time the musicians have finished, the crowd is cheering and the sun has finally set, the full, pale moon beginning to hover in the sky.

The music pauses. Changes. Everyone falls silent and Chan finds himself holding his breath as he waits for what he knows will come next—

Your lovely figure draped head to toe in white silk edged in gold that just catches the moonlight, a ray of the moon sent specially to bless the kingdom now.

Chan’s breath lodges in his throat. His chest aches. You’re always lovely, always so lovely, but as you begin to dance, he wonders if the word lovely even begins to capture the mystery, the beauty of your existence. No, not a single word could. But that is what his kingdom’s art is for—dance. A way to express what words cannot.

Just as your performance does now.

It’s no ordinary dance, the way you flit through the air. No. Throughout the kingdom there are those blessed by the goddess herself with magical abilities that come with dancing talent—painting memories through the air through a well-placed movement, calling on rain or sun to bathe the earth. Chan himself has no magic though he loves to dance, but his mother was blessed with the ability to recreate memories through her movement.

But those of the noble and royal lines may be blessed with a different ability, one that marks their special honor by the goddess Terpischore herself. They can weave emotion as they dance.

Just as you do now.

The crowd gasps, sighs, cries as one as you whirl across the stage, painting sorrow, joy, hope—all emotions Terpsichore felt through her journey to godhood, to patronage of this kingdom, to her ultimate tie to the moon. For all Chan watches, almost refusing to blink for fear of missing a single moment, he knows he could never hope to describe the sight before him, for words could never capture the beauty of your movement.

The song ends. You flutter your way to the front of the stage amidst cheers and shouts for an encore, and you bow once, twice, five more times before the crowd quiets enough for you to disappear behind the stage, leaving everyone to disperse under the rising moon.

Chan allows himself to be swept away with the crowd, filtering into the streets as musicians take up their instruments and begin filling the roads with cheer. He tries to stay by the palace, though, remembering your request.

“I know the chances are not large, but if we see each other…please save a dance for me.”

Ordinarily, he would never presume to take a dance from your hand. But you requested.

And never would he even think of saying no.

The minutes tick past, though, the moon rising steadily in the sky, bathing the streets in cool, lovely light. Chan laughs, dances, even catches a glimpse of his apprentices as they spin through the crowds shouting things he can’t hear, but though he keeps a hopeful eye out, not once does he see you until—

Someone taps his shoulder, and he spins around to see a very familiar face.

“Your—” Just in time, he sees the finger you have on your lips and cuts himself off before revealing your location to everyone in his vicinity.

“Sorry,” you say, smiling sheepishly. “I snuck away, I don’t want to be found out so quickly.”

You’ve changed out of the filmy white robes you danced in. You still wear white, just like the rest of the crowd, but your clothes are certainly sturdier and more serviceable than your dance garments were. Even then, though, your beauty still shines beneath the moon, and Chan has to remind himself to breathe.

“You were beautiful,” he says, all in a rush. Then he blushes. “I mean—you’re always beautiful.” His blush deepens as you giggle behind a hand. “But your performance…it was beyond words.”

“Thank you, Chan,” you reply sincerely, eyes shining. “I’m glad you were there to see it.”

“How did you feel about it?” he asks. “Were you happy?”

You nod immediately. “I think it was probably the best I’ve ever danced in my life,” you laugh, pulling him clear of someone whirling past. “I was nervous, for certain. But I love this piece, and I’ve practiced it so much. I’m very happy with how I did.”

Chan’s heart seems to burst under the brightness of your smile. “I’m incredibly happy you feel that way, Your Highness.”

“Well, I must thank you for it, too.” You hike up your skirts slightly, waggling a very familiar pair of slippers at him—white satin embroidered with gold accents, every stitch done by his own fingers. “Your shoes are incredibly comfortable, Chan. And so beautiful. I say this all the time, but I almost feel bad dancing in them, they’re such works of art.”

“Well, that is what they are made for.” Your smile gives Chan the courage to continue. “And I will always be happy to make you more, whenever you’ve worn a pair out.”

You look truly moved, your smile growing softer, shyer under the pale light of the moon. Chan himself can feel the redness of his cheeks creeping up his ears. You reach out and take his hands. “Thank you, Chan. I hope this does not come across as…too much, but you are very precious to me.” Your voice takes on a serious note that wasn’t there before, but your eyes shine brighter. “Not just your shoes. You are a wonderful person, and I am happy to have known you, even for the brief duration of our lives.”

Chan’s heart thuds in his chest, his ears echoing with your words. “You—you are very precious to me too, Your Highness,” he gets out, voice trembling. “I will forever be endlessly grateful that we have met.”

For a moment, you only stand, staring into each other’s eyes. Chan forces himself to breathe, to take in the moment—he will never be as close to you again as he is now.

“I do recall asking that you save me a dance,” you finally say, eyes sparkling. Chan’s heart leaps as you continue. “Do you have the time to indulge me, just this once?”

“Of course,” he breathes, squeezing your hand lightly. “Your Highness.”

He doesn’t say the words that ached to come after, though.

For you—I have all the time in the world.

. . . . .

In the end, you’re not sure how long you dance with Chan. It started as one dance, but even when the crowd separated the two of you, sending you off to other partners as the crowd laughed and cheered and spun, you always came back together, over and over again, like…

Like it was meant to be.

A sudden ache races through your heart, and in response, you hold Chan tighter. Not enough to hurt, hopefully not enough for him to even notice. Because as right as this feels, as right as you know this is, so many others would tell you in a heartbeat that this is not your place—would even go so far as to physically pull the two of you apart, if they could.

You love Chan. Have known it for a long time, actually, ever since the day you watched him place Yuna’s first pair of slippers on her feet with the softest smile on his face and every confusing feeling you’d been trying to figure out hit you with the force of a thousand suns. It’s been years since then and the love you have for him has never lessened, only grown.

And, you’re almost sure, it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe that Chan loves you too.

Which makes it all the worse. Because if this was one-sided, at least you could comfort yourself with the cold knowledge that you’d be the only one suffering in this love that no one would accept. But if Chan loves you too, then what is this, this something-but-nothing that the two of you have now? Something that won’t just hurt you, but will also hurt him. The best thing you could do would be to end things cleanly on your end, and pray Chan will move on.

Only you can’t. Selfishness, you suppose. The knowledge of how it feels to have Chan’s arms wrapped around you like this only makes it harder—safe, warm, peaceful, even in this chaos of dancers under the full moon. Even this simple frame for partner dancing, closer than you’ve ever dreamed but still leaving some distance that closes every so often as he pulls you out of reach of another laughing couple, is enough to make you feel lightheaded. You’re in too deep. You couldn’t try to drag yourself out of this if you tried.

This is the closest you’ve ever been to Chan, wrapped in each other’s arms as you spin about the roads in front of the palace, cheeks warm with sweat and laughter. Perhaps only your oldest sisters and Chaeyoung know how much courage it took for you to ask him for a dance, how nervous you were for this one little tryst to work out—but it was worth it. Because this is likely the closest you’ll ever be. The closest you’ll ever allow yourself to be.

You’ll never tell him how you feel, after all. Even if you know, and he knows, and everyone knows. Because even though it’s meant to be, it isn’t. And that hurts.

Chan seems to be oblivious to your thoughts as the music begins winding to a close, which you’re forever grateful for as you smile at him. His dark curls stick to his forehead with sweat. His eyes shine almost brighter than the moon itself.

Dancing stars, you love him. You love this gentle man who holds you with so much care, who looks at you like you hung the full moon in the sky. You love him so much.

“Your Highness?”

You blink at Chan, whose expression has turned worried. Damn. You let yourself slip. “Are you tired?” he asks, already guiding you to the edge of the fray, away from the brunt of the music and noise. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time. You must need to return soon.”

“No, I—it’s all right.” You try to cheer up, but reviving your fallen smile proves harder than you thought it would. Fumbling for an excuse that isn’t I was thinking about our hopeless love story and made myself upset, you say, “It’s…a lot of things. With the festival.”

Chan’s eyes narrow slightly. “Was it…”

Your heart drops in your chest, and suddenly all the previous lightheartedness of the night has gone, replaced by a curtain of dread. “Kereseia,” you finish quietly.

A short silence punctuates the air between you two. In the whirl of your performance, the final day of celebration, and the ecstasy of dancing in Chan’s arms for the first time in your life, you’d forgotten about the problems that sprouted in your life, fully formed, just a week ago.

The hand holding yours tightens its grip. You welcome the added pressure, squeezing harder as you try to ground yourself against the anxiety beginning to seep back into your chest. “So it’s true,” Chan says lowly, his eyes turning dark. “They’re here.”

You nod slightly. It’s not surprising that he’s heard something already. Rumors spread quickly, and it would only take one whisper about a kingdom as notorious as Kereseia to spark a wildfire. Really, you wish that was it. That it was just a strange delegation from a kingdom never before seen, come to demand that you include them in your celebrations once more.

But the king. He…

“Your Highness!”

Your eyes snap open. You hadn’t realized you even closed them. Chan is gripping your arms now, almost like he’s holding you upright, and you realize you must have been falling, and he caught you.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying to breathe. After the first gasp, breath comes more easily. “I just—this week has been—I love the festival, and I love planning it, but—”

Against your will, unwanted memories of the past week come flashing into your mind. The first time you spoke with the Kereseian king, when he interrupted the opening ceremony for nobility with his grand entrance. Those many times—too many to be coincidence—when you ran into him in the hallways and he begged so graciously for a moment of your time, only for you to feel dirty all over after he spoke to you, his eyes wandering over your figure all the while. When you were trying to speak with your sister and he suddenly appeared, somehow snatched you away, and by the time you realized he was holding your wrist it already felt like snakes had been wiggling up your arm.

“He’s terrible,” you whisper.

Chan sucks in a breath and immediately you regret speaking. “Who?” he asks, voice quiet. Dangerous, maybe. “The Kereseian king?”

Well, there’s no denying it now. Even if you tried, he would know, anyway. “Yes,” you reply miserably.

Chan’s eyes, worried and concerned, despite their hardness. Nothing like the sickly sweet, oily looks the Kereseian king had for you every time you spoke. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Yet. You pray Chan didn’t hear the word you left out, though something tells you he did. “It’s just—the circumstances surrounding their visit. My father won’t tell me anything.” Not for lack of trying, too. You stormed into his office the minute you had time, seething with embarrassment at having to take responsibility for the whole mess of “missing” the invites for the Kereseian delegation, and beyond his trite apology for not telling you earlier, you couldn’t get a word out of him beyond it will be cleared up soon and don’t anger them.

You’ve seen him four times since then. Each time, though you tried, he wouldn’t tell you a thing.

“It’s nothing, Chan,” you say again, as though repeating it will make it true. You attempt a smile. “Really. The festival will soon be over, and this Kereseian business will…go away.” Hopefully. Chan doesn’t look convinced, so you curve your lips wider even though you know this smile is far from reaching your eyes. You try for a joke. “At least, it won’t be my problem to deal with. It’ll be my father’s.”

Chan looks at you closely, and in that moment, you want nothing more than to sink into his arms and cry and tell him everything. Instead, though, you bolster that smile, and though by the end you’re sure Chan hasn’t been convinced of anything, he doesn’t continue to pry. “All right,” he says, worry still on his face, but the concern melting into a small smile instead. “But in any case, it’s late. Maybe—”

“Maybe, Your Highness, it’s time for you to return.”

. . .

For a moment, you think that this is just a bad dream. That you’ll pinch yourself and wake up, and when you do you’ll be back in bed. Safe. Away from the voice.

But you slowly turn around, coming face to face with the Kereseian king himself.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“Your Highness.” He tilts his head in what looks like an attempt at respect, the little smirk that makes your skin crawl never leaving his handsome face. “Your family is looking for you.”

“Your Majesty.” You take a small step in front of Chan, who seems to be frozen to the spot, and give a slight curtsy. “My sisters knew where I was. Did they send you?”

There’s no way they did.

“Not exactly.” His smile widens. “I heard your father ask where you were, and volunteered my services to find you.”

Behind you, Chan shifts. You raise a foot beneath your skirts and step slightly on his toes. He’s smart. He’ll understand that that means please don’t get involved.

“Who’s this?” The king peers past you and you actually feel your throat close up. Not Chan, not Chan, not Chan! “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I don’t believe we have either,” Chan replies, voice polite but cold. You’ve heard that tone before. It usually comes out when one of the more aloof nobles doesn’t plan to give him the time of day or the proper respect due to a human being. “Your Majesty…?”

For all the situation, Chan’s blatantly fake confusion almost makes you want to laugh. “Chan, allow me to introduce His Majesty, the king of Kereseia.” You realize then that you don’t know the king’s name and that almost makes you laugh for real, especially as Chan dips into a stiff bow that looks anything but natural. “Your Majesty, my good friend, Chan.”

“Your good friend,” the king repeats, slowly, like he’s testing out those words on his tongue. You can almost feel Chan stiffen next to you, and you pray you won’t have to step on his foot again to keep him from trying to interject. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Chan. I do have a duty to escort Her Highness back to her family, however, so I fear we must part.”

“Do not worry,” you reply quickly, as smoothly as you can before Chan can retort. “I was going to return soon, anyway. Please, Chan, have fun at the festival.” Your smile turns real, if only for a moment, as you meet his gaze. “It’s the final night. You should enjoy it.”

Chan’s eyes flicker to the side, where you know the Kereseian king stands. “So should you.”

“And I did, thanks to you.” You take his hand, squeeze it for a minute—far longer than you should, with the king’s gaze boring into your shoulder, but you ignore it until you have to let Chan go. “I will be all right,” you add in a whisper that hopefully only he can hear. “Really.”

He doesn’t look happy. His lips press together almost into a line, his eyes dark and serious like you’ve never seen before. But he must sense it when you want this to end, so he only nods, curves his lips slightly, and bows. “In that case, have a good night, Your Highness.” When he rises, his smile is wider. “I had a wonderful time.” With that, Chan disappears into the crowd, leaving you with a man you don’t trust at all.

Without another word, you turn back towards the palace and begin walking. If it’s a little quicker than your usual pace, you try not to let that on.

Unfortunately, the king keeps up. “I didn’t know that princesses of Terpsichani were allowed dalliances outside of nobility.”

You laugh a little, trying not to let the edge in your voice sound. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, you’ve only been here a week. There is a lot of you don’t know about us.” Annoyance creeps into your tone, despite your efforts to keep it out. “And Chan isn’t a dalliance.”

“Well, he seems quite taken with you.”

Anger fizzles in your chest, threatening to spill into your words. “We’re friends,” is all you say.

“Good, then.”

Frowning, you turn toward him. “Good?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” The king’s eyes seem to glow under the moonlight, pulsing pools of shadow. You almost fear drowning in them. “Do you know why I have come here, to your kingdom?”

Nothing about this feels right. “I was under the impression it was for the Moonlight Festival, Your Majesty.” You turn to continue on to the palace, but his cold hand catches your wrist. Pulls you back.

“So your father really told you nothing,” he murmurs, almost as though to himself. Before you can digest that, though, he continues. “It was for the festival, Your Highness. Partially. But that was not the promise your father gave me, you know.” His lips curve and you can only think of the cruel blade of a knife, silver under the moonlight before it sinks into your flesh. “He promised me you.”

He promised me you.

“…What?”

“He promised your mother, first.” The king laughs as though you aren’t reeling, about to fall if not for his wrist still grasping yours. “And to my father, not to me. But the poor woman was so sickly after your birth, and ill. My father wouldn’t want a weak woman to bear his own child.” He peers into your eyes and you can do nothing to pull away. “This my father said, and so yours bargained a second time. One of his daughters for my father’s son.” White teeth glint as he grins. “Me.”

Disgust roils in your stomach and gives you the courage to speak. “But why?” you cry out. “Why would my father make such a bargain in the first place?”

“Don’t you know how much trouble your father and mother had, conceiving you?” He smirks. “I suppose, at some point, your father had to take matters into his own hands. And my own father wasn’t going to say no to a princess with magic as strong as yours.”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up. In a horrible way, it makes sense—you know your mother had trouble with your birth and had always wanted more children even after you were born, which is why she adopted your sisters before she died—but this can’t be true. It can’t be. “I don’t believe you,” you snap, ripping your arm out of his. “I don’t believe you!”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you believe me.” Suddenly he has both of your wrists clamped between his fingers, his skin seeping cold into yours. “I will have you, a darling queen to dance with me and entertain my court day and night, and you will have my child. And with your blood, that child will be able to walk in the sun, as so many of us Kereseians cannot.”

Vaguely, you realize you’ve never seen one of the Kereseian delegation under daylight—always in a room with no windows during the day, or milling about at night. You didn’t know they couldn’t walk in the sunlight.

You’re learning so much tonight, and none of it is good.

“So we can do this one of two ways.” His face is so close to yours, so handsome but so cold and so repulsive when his breath hits your skin. “You can come willingly, and we will announce our engagement tonight to your father. It will be wonderful news to crown the final night of the Moonlight Festival, will it not? Our marriage two weeks from now on the new moon, as befits Kereseian royalty.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips. Engagement. As if—as if you would ever—

“Over my dead body,” you snap.

The king isn’t even fazed. “I thought you might say that,” he says with flippant ease, though if you didn’t know better you’d think you heard a ripple of a snarl in his tone. “But think wisely, Your Highness. Your father signed a contract with our kingdom of hell. We did not coerce him. He came to us. We delivered on our end, and now he must deliver on his.” He laughs. “Will you try to resist fate?”

Despair claws its way into your heart, ripping open your throat as you try to think. Try to speak. Your head is spinning and everything is wrong—your father, who you trusted, your mother, who is dead—

Against your will you wish you had never told Chan to leave. That he was still here with you. That you could draw from his strength in this moment where you feel so powerless. But he shouldn’t be caught in this, though. You’d never want him injured. Never want him hurt.

Not in the way you’re sure the Kereseian king could manage.

His memory lends you courage, though. Fate. This is no fate—it will not be your fate. You will not go willingly into the kingdom of hell, and you will not sign your life quietly away to this monster who dares claim you so.

“Over. My. Dead. Body.”

The king’s eyes darken. “Very well, then,” he says, and just for a second his grip loosens. You try to snatch the moment to break free but then it tightens and you gasp against the pain as he brings you even closer. “I should make this clear now, though, Your Highness.”

Flames whirl up from the ground. Heat flares at your skin. And then you’re falling, falling, falling into the earth and the blistering wind is tearing your body apart piece by piece and there’s a horrible noise in your ears that you have a terrible suspicion is your own scream—

Your feet slam into a hard floor. You nearly buckle where you stand, knees shaking, only held up by the painful grip the king still has on your hands. Everything around you is dark, lit up by strange, curling flames, and it is cold. So cold.

He smiles down at you now. Knife blades. Weapons to kill you as his mouth comes closer to whisper in your ear.

“You don’t have a choice."

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