loeyshine

[loeyshine]

Silk and Gold

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: Arranged Marriage AU, Slow Burn, Romance, CEO/model life, Fluff & Tension. "You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you."

Description: Two strangers, bound by fate’s cruel design, collide in secrecy desire igniting, hearts surrendering, love blooming beyond duty’s cold chains.

Playlist: electric — alina baraz ft. khalid

Chapter 1: The First Dinner

It’s weird how my entire future could be decided over a few glasses of overpriced wine.

The car was swerving through the busy city night, the lights from skyscrapers flickering on the window beside me like broken stars. My assistant was panicking in the front seat, but I stayed calm well, at least on the outside.

“Y/N, they’ve been waiting for over twenty minutes. Your father just texted. He’s not happy,” she muttered.

“I had a campaign shoot that ran late. I’m not ditching Vogue just to shake hands with some random chaebol heir I’m supposed to marry,” I replied, arms crossed tightly over my chest.

Yeah. That’s the thing.

I’m getting married.

Arranged. Like a pretty package wrapped in designer ribbon, passed off to a business partner's son like I’m some sort of merger contract. All because I was born into a multi-billion company and my dad thinks love is less important than stocks.

What a life.

I stepped out of the car as the doorman greeted me with a bow, the scent of truffle and fine whisky floating in the air of the luxurious private dining hall. My heels clicked on the marble as I walked inside, every eye from the two families at the long table turning to me.

“There she is,” my father said, voice tight. “Y/N, come. Sit next to Mr. Park’s son.”

And there he was.

Chanyeol.

He stood up politely, tall and broad in his sleek black suit. His eyes met mine. They were... warm. Kind of soft. Maybe a little nervous too.

God, he was hot. Not just in a rich-kid-with-a-Maserati way. More like... annoyingly handsome, like the type who could steal a whole room’s attention without even trying.

I sat beside him, and for a few seconds, there was silence.

“Hi,” I whispered without looking at him.

“Hi,” he replied quietly.

And that was it.

No sparks. No fireworks. Just two strangers sitting awkwardly at a table where everyone else was discussing our wedding like it was a shareholders’ meeting

I could feel his sleeve brush mine when we both reached for the water at the same time. We pulled back instantly. He cleared his throat. I looked away.

Dinner dragged on my father talking about resorts in Europe, his father talking about legacy. I nodded, smiled when needed. But my eyes kept flicking to Chanyeol.

He wasn’t talking much either. Just gently smiling, fiddling with the ring on his pinky, barely touching his food.

Was he as uncomfortable as I was?

Finally, after dessert, our parents stepped away to talk business alone, and it was just me and him, left at the long table like two awkward kids at a family reunion.

He glanced at me then. Our eyes met.

“I, uh... didn’t expect you to look like that,” he said suddenly, then froze. “I mean not in a bad way. I just meant you’re... you’re beautiful. Like, really.”

I blinked.

That was the first sentence he ever said to me, and it caught me so off guard I actually laughed.

“I guess you Googled me.”

He flushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. “Guilty. My hyung follows you on Instagram. He’s obsessed with models.”

“Should I be flattered or creeped out?” I teased, raising a brow.

He chuckled. “Flattered. Definitely flattered.”

There was a pause. Then he looked at me again, more seriously this time.

“Do you want this? The... marriage, I mean?”

I stared at him for a second, surprised at how honest that question was.

“No,” I said honestly. “Not like this. I don’t even know you.”

He nodded slowly. “Me neither. But... maybe we could take it slow? Get to know each other before all the chaos?”

His voice was calm. Sincere.

And for the first time all night, I didn’t feel like some pawn in a corporate game.

I looked at him really looked and felt something strange in my chest. Maybe curiosity. Maybe relief. Or maybe just the tiniest beginning of a spark.

“Alright,” I said, reaching for my wine. “Let’s take it slow.”

He smiled.

And for a moment, I didn’t hate the idea of this arranged marriage at all.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2: Between the Pages

I wasn’t expecting to see him.

Especially not here between shelves of rare editions and poetry anthologies my hair damp from the rain, a beige hoodie over my gym clothes, no makeup, and wearing glasses.

I was a far cry from the model version of myself plastered on LED screens in Seoul. Right now, I was just me.

I was crouching down, fingers trailing along the spines of books, flipping through a vintage hardbound copy of “The Bell Jar,” when I heard a deep, familiar voice behind me.

“Y/N?”

I froze.

Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.

I turned slowly, still kneeling on the wooden floor.

And there he was.

Chanyeol.

Wearing a charcoal wool coat, hair slightly tousled like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot (and knowing him, maybe he did), with a coffee in one hand and wide, startled eyes locked onto mine.

“…Hi?” I said, trying to act casual, even though my soul was screaming why now of all times.

He blinked a few times, then chuckled under his breath, like he didn’t expect this either. “Didn’t expect to find you in a bookstore.”

I stood up, brushing nonexistent dust off my hoodie. “What, models don’t read?” I teased, hiding the slight flush on my cheeks.

“No, no! I mean I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammered, clearly panicking, and I couldn't help but laugh.

“I’m kidding. You’re cute when you panic,” I smirked.

His ears turned red. God, he was too easy to fluster.

He walked a little closer. “So… what are you reading?”

“Depression,” I said bluntly, holding up the Sylvia Plath book.

He blinked again. “Wow. Mood.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did Park Chanyeol just admit to being emotionally complex?”

He tilted his head and grinned. “What if I told you I write lyrics in my studio late at night and cry over old jazz ballads?”

My lips curled. “Then I’d probably marry you next week.”

He paused. Then smiled slowly, like my words knocked the wind out of him for a second.

There was a sudden tension in the air not heavy, not awkward. Just… charged. Like two people in a storybook, halfway through the chapter, not sure whether to turn the page or reread that line again.

“I was actually buying a gift,” he said, changing the subject, lifting the paper bag in his other hand. “My cousin passed her college exams. Thought I’d get her a Murakami.”

I looked impressed. “You’re a Murakami guy?”

He leaned in slightly, voice low. “You’d be surprised how much you don’t know about me, Y/N.”

And that did something to me. Something subtle. A soft spark under my skin.

I clutched my book a little tighter. “Maybe we should fix that.”

He smiled, all teeth and charm, but still boyish in a way that made my heart soften. “Then let’s start now. Coffee? The one downstairs smells like cinnamon and rain.”

I hesitated for a moment. But maybe, just this once, I could step out of the scripted life our parents planned for us and just let this be a normal moment between two almost-strangers.

“Okay,” I said. “But you’re paying. My face already earns more than yours.”

He laughed. “Deal.”

And just like that, under rainy skies and between pages of forgotten books, something between us shifted.

Maybe it was curiosity.

Maybe it was fate.

Or maybe it was the first real moment we weren’t being pushed together by business or bloodlines just two people who accidentally found each other on a rainy day in a bookstore.

The café was nestled inside the bookstore, tucked away behind poetry shelves and vintage postcards. It smelled like cinnamon, steamed milk, and something warm I couldn’t quite name. Maybe nostalgia.

We sat across from each other in a small corner booth, wood panels behind us and a fogged-up window beside us. I had my usual white chocolate latte. He ordered a plain americano, black as midnight, no sugar. Of course he did.

“So,” I said, tracing a finger on the mug. “Do you always stalk women in bookstores, or am I special?”

Chanyeol laughed, head tilting back just a little. “I swear I didn’t know you’d be here. You’re just hard to miss.”

“You mean loud?”

“No,” he said, leaning slightly forward. “I mean... you glow. Even when you’re just in a hoodie with fogged-up glasses.”

Okay. What was that flutter in my chest?

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to smile too much. “That was smooth.”

“I’ve been practicing. For you,” he said, sipping his coffee like he didn’t just casually admit that out loud.

I looked at him really looked. Beneath the expensive coat and tailored image, there was something about Chanyeol that felt different. He was... awkward. Honest. Like someone who had grown up with pressure too but never lost the softness.

“So,” I said, tilting my head. “If we’re really going through with this arranged-marriage business… I should probably know more than just your coffee order.”

He raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Like... what keeps you up at night?”

He blinked at the unexpectedness of the question. Then answered.

“Music,” he said quietly. “Not being enough. Feeling like I have to live up to something I didn’t choose.” He looked away. “That got too deep, huh?”

I shook my head slowly. “No. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

He met my eyes again. “What about you?”

I hesitated. Then whispered, “Not being seen. Everyone thinks they know me. The model. The rich girl. But no one ever asks what I want. Who I am outside the gloss and covers.”

There was a silence. Not heavy. Just... real.

Then he smiled, soft and a little sad. “Well, hi. I’m Chanyeol. And I’d really like to get to know the real you.”

And maybe just maybe I wanted to let him.

We talked for another hour. About favorite songs, childhood dreams, the worst paparazzi stories, his secret studio above his dad’s hotel, the time I cried during a Paris fashion show because my heels broke before the runway.

It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t awkward anymore.

It was just... warm.

When we finally walked out, the rain had gotten heavier. I pulled my hoodie over my head, groaning. “Of course.”

Then, without a word, Chanyeol stepped in front of me, pulled off his coat, and draped it over my shoulders.

“Wha—no, you’ll get soaked!”

He grinned, holding it over both of us like a ridiculous oversized umbrella. “So? If I catch a cold, you’ll have to visit me.”

“Smooth again,” I muttered, cheeks warm.

We walked to my car like that huddled under his coat, close enough to feel his warmth, hear the rain fall in rhythms around us. The air smelled like coffee and cold pavement and maybe the beginning of something dangerous.

When we reached the door, I turned to hand him his coat.

But he didn’t take it. He just looked at me.

“Keep it,” he said softly. “It looks better on you anyway.”

My heart thudded. A little too hard.

Before I could reply, he leaned in not for a kiss, but just close enough to brush his fingers over a wet strand of hair sticking to my cheek.

“You’re not what I expected, Y/N.”

“Neither are you,” I whispered.

He smiled.

And walked away into the rain.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3: The Plus One

I was wearing a sleek, sapphire gown that dipped low in the back classy, timeless, dramatic enough for the front page. My hair was up in a soft chignon, glittering earrings brushing my shoulders.

I looked perfect.

And I had never felt more on edge.

Not because of the cameras. Not because of the expectations.

But because I’d just been told that Park Chanyeol would be arriving as my plus one.

Apparently, our parents arranged it. They said it would “look good for the engagement.” A “gentle introduction to the public.”

But no one asked me if I was ready.

And the problem was I didn’t know if I was.

I was sipping champagne near the edge of the ballroom, pretending to laugh at some executive’s joke, when I felt it that shift in the air. The kind that made people turn, just slightly, without knowing why.

Then I saw him.

Chanyeol.

Tall, devastatingly handsome in a sharp black tux. Bowtie slightly undone. Hair pushed back like he just ran his fingers through it in the car. And those eyes warm, searching, catching mine instantly across the sea of glitter and velvet.

Everyone was watching him.

And then everyone was watching us.

He made his way toward me slowly, confidently, like the ballroom was his runway.

“Hi,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I believe I’m your date tonight.”

I tried not to let my smile falter. “So this is what being auctioned off in silk looks like.”

He chuckled, eyes dancing. “If it helps, I wanted to be here.”

That made my chest do a stupid flutter again.

He offered his arm. “Shall we cause a scandal?”

I looped mine through his, ignoring the way everyone started whispering.

We moved through the gala like a dream. Camera flashes followed us. Executives smiled with tight interest. The tabloids were already writing our love story and we hadn’t even had our first kiss.

Later, during the charity auction, he leaned close and whispered, “I bid two million won for your attention.”

I blinked. “You what?”

He pointed to the stage. The emcee was laughing. “Our next prize an exclusive Paris getaway for two!”

And Chanyeol… raised his hand.

“Two million won.”

Everyone turned.

I choked on my champagne.

“Chanyeol!”

He just smirked. “For charity. Right?”

He won, of course. And as the room erupted in applause, I turned to him with flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

“What the hell was that?”

“An investment,” he murmured, leaning close to my ear. “In us.”

Hours later, after the ballroom had emptied and the moon hung quietly above the city, I found myself alone on the balcony. Cool wind brushing against my bare back, my heels finally off.

The door behind me creaked.

“Cold?” he asked softly.

I turned. He was holding his jacket again that habit.

“You have a thing for covering me up,” I said, letting him wrap it around me.

He didn’t laugh. He just looked at me for a long, quiet moment.

“I thought tonight would feel fake,” he said. “But it didn’t.”

I swallowed. “Yeah. Me too.”

He stepped closer. Not touching, just enough that I could feel the tension rise between our bodies like static.

“You looked like a dream tonight,” he whispered. “And for a second… I wished this wasn’t arranged. I wished it was real.”

My breath caught.

“It could be,” I said before I could stop myself.

He looked stunned for a moment eyes searching mine like he wasn’t sure if he heard it right.

Then, slowly, gently, he reached out, brushing his thumb along the edge of my cheekbone. His voice was lower this time. Rougher.

“Y/N... can I kiss you?”

God. No cameras. No audience. No parents. Just us.

And I whispered: “Yes.”

He kissed me soft, slow, and delicate. Like he didn’t want to ruin the moment. Like he wasn’t just kissing a fiancée but someone he was falling for.

And in that quiet space between our lips, I realized something.

Maybe I wasn’t being forced into this.

Maybe fate was just... working overtime.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4: The Leak

The rain tapped on my window like static chaotic and constant. But nothing compared to what was happening on my phone screen.

Breaking: Park Chanyeol seen getting cozy with chaebol heiress-model Y/N inside a bookstore café. Sources say “the two looked like a real couple.” Are wedding bells ringing sooner than expected?

The photos were everywhere.

Me and Chanyeol.

At the corner booth.

Laughing.

His coat around my shoulders.

Paparazzi.

Of course they followed us.

I should’ve known.

My phone was blowing up agency, stylists, brand reps, even fellow models. Half of them wanted to know if it was true. The other half wanted to know if I was crazy.

I tossed the phone on my bed and ran a hand through my hair.

I didn’t know what was worse—

the online headlines,

or the silence downstairs.

Because he had seen it too.

My father.

And he wasn’t happy.

I was pacing when the doorbell rang.

Late. Cold. Unplanned.

I looked out the window.

My breath caught.

Chanyeol.

Standing in the rain.

No umbrella.

Just his tall frame, soaked through, fists clenched at his sides like he wasn’t sure if he was more angry or scared.

I rushed down, heart pounding, and opened the door.

“Are you crazy? It’s pouring—”

“I had to come,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “I know your dad saw the photos. I know this is about to get worse. But I’m not letting him twist this.”

“Chanyeol—”

“I’m not backing down,” he said. “Not about you.”

Then, without asking, he stepped inside, dripping rain onto the marble floors, and looked straight toward the hallway.

Where my father was now standing.

Silent. Stern. Watching everything.

Perfect.

“Mr. Lee” Chanyeol said with a respectful bow, voice firm. “I know the press made it look like we’ve crossed boundaries. But I promise Y/N and I haven’t done anything that would disgrace either of our families.”

My father’s expression didn’t change. “Yet you kissed her. In public.”

I tensed. Chanyeol stayed calm.

“Yes,” he said. “Because I like her.”

The silence was deafening.

“I didn’t expect to,” Chanyeol continued. “I thought this arrangement would just be business. But she’s not someone you arrange. She’s someone you fall for.” He looked at me. “And I am.”

My heart stopped.

My father crossed his arms. “Do you think liking her is enough to marry her? This is more than feelings, Park Chanyeol. This is legacy.”

“I know,” Chanyeol said. “But I’m not here to inherit her. I’m here to choose her.”

That shut everyone up.

Even me.

My father studied him for a long moment, jaw tight. Then finally said:

“She’s not a prize. You’ll have to prove you deserve her.”

Chanyeol nodded. “Then I’ll prove it.”

He turned to me.

Rain still glistening in his hair. Eyes burning into mine.

“You’re not just a contract, Y/N. You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted… just for you.”

And in that moment, standing in the echo of his promise, I realized…

I was already falling.

Fast.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5: One Month Rule

Turns out, being rich didn’t mean freedom.

After Chanyeol’s “I choose her” declaration, my father didn’t scream or cancel the arrangement. Instead, he did what rich men do best make rules.

One month.

That was the deal.

One month of supervised courtship.

It sounded like a rom-com gone corporate.

We were allowed to go on dates approved, timed, and tracked. My security would tag along, and someone from my dad’s office would call to check in.

No kissing. No overnight visits.

No “acting married.”

Just a "polite engagement period.”

Like falling in love had to be monitored.

But tonight, I broke the rule.

I slipped away after my brand shoot, pulled on an oversized hoodie, and took the elevator up to the 25th floor of the Park Hotel where Chanyeol’s private studio was hidden behind a heavy glass door marked P.C. Room.

No cameras. No bodyguards.

Just him. And me.

I knocked.

He opened the door in a white tee, loose joggers, and headphones around his neck.

He blinked, surprised. “You came.”

“I broke the rule,” I whispered. “Sorry.”

He stepped aside, lips twitching into a smirk. “Good. I was about to.”

His studio was dimly lit, cozy, filled with scattered sheet music, half-drunk iced americanos, and a grand piano in the corner.

Guitars hung on the wall like quiet sentries.

A beat softly played through the speakers slow, low, romantic.

“You’ve been working?” I asked, walking in slowly.

“Kind of.” He scratched the back of his head. “Actually… I wrote something. About you.”

I turned to him, stunned. “What?”

He walked over to the keyboard, sat down, and motioned for me to sit beside him. I did, heart thumping louder than the bass.

“This might be stupid,” he said, fingers resting lightly on the keys. “But every time I think of you… this melody plays in my head.”

Then he played.

And God.

It was beautiful.

Soft piano notes. A slow guitar riff layered in.

And then he started singing.

┃“You walked in like a secret I didn’t know I was keeping,

Eyes like a storm, lips I dream of kissing.

I didn’t choose the moment... but I’m choosing you.”

My breath caught.

I’d been on a thousand runways. Heard thousands of cheers. But nothing ever made my chest ache the way his voice did right then.

He looked at me when he finished, a little breathless, a little scared. “Too much?”

I shook my head slowly. “It’s everything.”

A long silence fell between us. Not awkward just full. Of everything we couldn’t say under rules and conditions and staged dinners.

Then I leaned in. Slowly.

He blinked. “You’re not allowed to—”

“I don’t care,” I whispered.

And I kissed him.

His hand found my waist like he’d been waiting. The kiss was soft at first, but there was something dangerous underneath. A spark from a match we were both too afraid to light.

When we finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he whispered. “But I want you to want it, not because your dad said so. Because your heart did.”

“You really want my heart?” I asked.

He smiled. “No. I want all of you.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6: Midnight Silk

The villa was quiet.

Too quiet.

Perched on the edge of the cliffside, surrounded by nothing but wind, ocean, and shadows. It was meant to be peaceful a private location for my magazine shoot. No press. No distractions. Just me, my team, and nature.

They all left after dinner.

I stayed behind.

Needed silence. Needed space.

Needed to breathe in something that didn’t smell like perfume campaigns and expectations.

I was barefoot in a satin robe, skin still warm from a hot shower, a glass of wine in hand. The moonlight spilled through the open balcony doors, painting silver patterns across the marble floor.

That’s when I heard the knock.

Three slow taps.

I froze.

No one was supposed to be here.

I crept toward the door, heart pounding like something out of a movie. I opened it just a crack and my breath left me.

Chanyeol.

In a hoodie and jeans, a duffel slung over his shoulder, hair tousled from wind and travel.

“How what how did you—”

He slipped inside quickly, shutting the door behind him. “Your manager let it slip where you were. I made them swear not to tell anyone. Not even your security.”

“Chanyeol,” I whispered, stunned. “If my dad—”

“I don’t care.” His voice was low. Serious. “I couldn’t sleep. I just needed to see you.”

His eyes drank me in.

I was still in the robe.

Still slightly damp.

Still not thinking clearly.

The air shifted between us fast.

“You’re insane,” I breathed, stepping back slightly as he stepped forward.

He smiled. “Maybe. But you’re worth it.”

Then his lips were on mine.

And everything else vanished.

It started slow. His hands gently cupped my face, mouth moving over mine like he’d been starving for it. I melted against him, fingers tangling in his hoodie, pulling him closer until I felt the hard planes of his chest against my silk-covered body.

We stumbled backward into the living room, lips never parting. He pushed the robe slightly off my shoulder, lips brushing the skin there, teeth teasing the delicate curve of my collarbone.

“Do you want this?” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’ll stop if you say no.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” I gasped.

He groaned.

Then everything blurred.

The silk robe slid to the floor.

He lifted me with ease, carried me to the master bedroom, eyes never leaving mine.

The bed was massive, draped in white linen, sheer curtains fluttering in the sea breeze. The only light was the moon spilling in through the windows, silver against our skin.

He kissed every inch like I was art.

His name fell from my lips like a secret prayer.

He whispered mine like it was the only thing that mattered.

It was slow. Deep. Intense.

The kind of night that makes you forget everything else.

The kind that seals feelings into skin.

After, we lay tangled in the sheets, his chest beneath my cheek, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my back.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

Just… silence.

And waves.

And heat still lingering on our skin.

Then he said it.

“I love you.”

My heart stopped.

I looked up. His eyes were serious. Raw. Open.

“I know we weren’t supposed to get here like this,” he whispered. “But I meant it. Every kiss. Every touch. I’m not faking this. I’m not pretending to be in love with the girl my father wants me to marry.”

His thumb brushed my lips.

“I love you, Y/N. Not the heiress. Not the model. Just… you.”

And for once in my life, with my heart exposed and body still humming from his touch I believed someone meant it.

“I love you too,” I whispered.

And in that coastal villa, far away from everything fake, we finally gave in to something real.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7: Power & Possession

Back in the city, everything felt colder.

After our night at the villa skin on skin, his hands claiming every part of me, his voice whispering I love you into the crook of my neck it was hard to pretend things were the same.

But we had to.

At least, in front of everyone else.

I slipped back into my routine: shoots, fittings, brand meetings. And he returned to his boardrooms and business strategies, jaw sharp, suits sharper.

But something in him had changed.

Chanyeol was still soft with me when we were alone, when he texted me "home safe?" at midnight, when he sent black coffee and croissants to my shoot the next morning.

But in public?

He was colder. Smarter. Dangerous.

Like the man who whispered I’ll take care of you was now ready to fight for me.

And that’s exactly what happened.

It was a Wednesday when the rumor started: another chaebol heir from a rival conglomerate Kang Jisoo, the son of a massive tech empire was trying to pull my father into a new engagement proposal.

Apparently, their stocks were falling, and they needed a flashy PR move. A merger. A wedding. Me.

I was livid.

But Chanyeol?

He was furious.

That afternoon, I was called into Park Group headquarters. Not alone. With my father. His father. Executives. Board members. Kang Jisoo and his smug little tie.

I stepped into the glass boardroom in heels and a white dress I didn’t even mean to look intimidating in but Chanyeol was already there.

Sitting at the head of the table.

In a jet black suit.

Hands clasped, expression unreadable.

But his eyes flicked up when I walked in and I saw it.

Fire.

They started talking. About business. About optics. About restructuring and proposals.

And then Jisoo leaned back in his chair and said, like it was nothing:

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind marrying Y/N. She’d look stunning on our company’s next campaign. We could use someone like her.”

My father didn’t respond.

The board chuckled awkwardly.

But Chanyeol

He stood up. Slowly.

And the room went silent.

He looked at Jisoo. Dead in the eye.

“If you talk about her like she’s a product again,” he said quietly, “I’ll make sure your company’s next quarterly report comes with an apology letter.”

Everyone froze.

Even his father.

“I didn’t mean any offense—” Jisoo started.

“She’s not for sale,” Chanyeol snapped. “She’s mine.”

My breath caught.

The whole room shifted.

He looked at my father then. “With all due respect, sir... if this meeting is to reconsider the engagement, then let me make this very clear I’m not letting her go.”

No one said a word.

He turned to me last.

Eyes softer now. Just for me.

“Unless you want me to,” he added quietly.

I stared at him. The man I used to call a stranger. The man who kissed me under moonlight. Who wrote me songs. Who made love to me like I was the only thing he’d ever fight for.

I stepped toward him.

And laced my fingers with his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

His grip tightened.

And that was it.

Deal or no deal.

This wasn’t about business anymore.

This was war.

And I had already chosen my side.

━━━━━━━━

The door slammed shut behind us.

And the silence cracked like lightning.

Chanyeol’s jaw was tight. His tie undone. Hair tousled from the way he ran his fingers through it during the boardroom chaos.

He didn’t speak.

Not right away.

He just walked to the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse, staring down at the glowing city below like he needed to calm the storm burning inside him.

I watched from behind, heart pounding.

He was still in that black suit. Still smoldering from earlier when he’d told a boardroom full of billionaires I belonged to him. When he’d looked at me like I was the only thing he trusted in this ruthless world.

And now, it was just us.

No cameras.

No fathers.

No board.

Just that fire.

And the tension stretching tight between us.

He turned around, eyes locked on mine. Slowly, silently, he walked toward me like a lion that had already claimed his prey but was giving her one last chance to run.

I didn’t move.

“Do you know,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “how hard it was to sit there and listen to another man talk about you like a prize?”

His hands slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

“Do you know what it did to me to see you walk into that room, looking like that like you were made just for me and I had to act like I wasn’t already addicted to you?”

I swallowed, breath shaky. “Then don’t act.”

He growled low in his throat and crushed his mouth to mine.

It was nothing like the kiss at the villa.

This wasn’t gentle.

This was claiming.

He pressed me against the glass window with one hand gripping my thigh, the other in my hair.

Seoul sparkled behind me.

But all I saw washim.

He whispered my name like a curse, lips moving down my neck, sucking hard enough to mark. His suit jacket fell to the floor. My heels clattered away. The tension we’d built up for weeks months finally snapping.

“You’re mine,” he muttered against my skin. “Not a contract. Not a trophy. Mine.”

His voice deep, raw, full of something primal sent shivers down my spine.

I gasped as he lifted me, pinning me against the cool glass, his mouth hot against my collarbone.

“Say it,” he whispered, teeth grazing my ear. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I choked out, barely breathing.

And then nothing existed but us.

Clothes fell away like promises we never meant to keep. His hands worshipped every inch of me, his lips branding every curve with heat. He took his time possessive, precise. Every touch, every stroke, was a reminder.

That I wasn’t just wanted.

I was his.

And he made sure I never forgot it.

Later, we lay tangled in sheets made of Egyptian cotton, the city still glowing beneath our bare bodies. His arms wrapped around me from behind, his lips pressed between my shoulder blades.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I’ll protect you. From everything. Even if it’s our own families.”

I turned slightly, meeting his eyes in the dim light. “What if they don’t approve? What if they try to separate us?”

He pulled me closer.

“They can’t,” he whispered. “Because I won’t let go. Not now. Not ever.”

And something in me something scared and guarded—finally relaxed.

Because no matter how this world tried to control us…

He would always choose me.

And now, I was choosing him, too.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8: Scandal, Smoke, and a Diamond Ring

The sun hadn’t even fully risen when Chanyeol’s phone started buzzing. Then mine. Then again.

Over and over.

Until he groaned, pulled away from where his lips had been trailing sleepy kisses down my shoulder, and reached for his phone on the nightstand.

His whole body stilled.

“…What is it?” I sat up, sheets falling off my bare skin, already feeling the chill in the air that had nothing to do with the weather.

He handed me the phone.

A headline.

Blazing red font.

And a photo.

┃“CHAEBOL HEIR PARK CHANYEOL & SUPERMODEL Y/N SPOTTED TOGETHER AT PRIVATE LUXURY VILLA – ENGAGEMENT IN TROUBLE?”

┃ ‘Secret lovers? Business scandal? Leaked photos hint at late-night rendezvous caught without staff or security.’

My mouth went dry.

The photos were blurry… but real.

Me, stepping out in that white silk robe.

Him, shirtless, behind the glass balcony.

A silhouette of us. Too close. Too exposed.

“Who the hell leaked this?” I whispered.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, jaw clenched. “But I’m going to find out.”

And then his phone rang again.

This time, he answered.

And from the look in his eyes… I knew.

My father.

Two hours later, I sat in a cold room at my family’s estate, across from my dad and a room full of men in suits.

“You embarrassed this family,” he said. “You humiliated yourself.”

“No,” I said quietly, “I fell in love.”

He didn’t listen.

“You’re no longer engaged to Park Chanyeol. I’m calling it off myself. From now on, you will only represent this family this company. Not your feelings.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

But then—

The doors burst open.

And in walked Chanyeol.

Still in his suit. Still sharp.

But behind him… a swarm of cameras. Reporters. Flashing lights.

“Good morning,” he said calmly, stepping into the room like he owned it. “I believe you all got the headlines today.”

My father stood up, furious. “This is a private matter ”

“Not anymore,” Chanyeol cut in smoothly. “You see, the media’s already talking. And I don’t care about saving face. I care about saving her.”

He turned toward me.

Everything else blurred.

Only him.

“I wasn’t going to do this like this,” he said. “But if this is what it takes then I’ll fight every damn boardroom in Korea for you.”

He took a slow breath. Reached into his pocket.

And pulled out a velvet box.

Gasps. Flashes. Silence.

Chanyeol walked to me, dropped to one knee, and opened it.

Inside: a diamond that sparkled like starlight. But more than that it was real. Raw. Like his voice when he said

“Y/N… will you marry me?”

“Not for our parents. Not for business.”

“But because I love you.”

“Because I’d choose you over and over, in every lifetime.”

My heart stopped.

And then, I stood.

Tears blurred my vision as I whispered:

“Yes.”

He slipped the ring onto my finger.

The crowd exploded.

But I didn’t care.

Because when he kissed me slowly, reverently, with a hand cradling my cheek I knew.

This wasn’t just a scandal.

It was a revolution.

And we had won.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 9: Mrs. Park, Forever Yours; Final Chapter

The veil brushed against my bare shoulders as the warm breeze carried the scent of lavender and late-summer grapes. I could hear the soft rustle of vineyard leaves, the quiet hum of the string quartet, and the gasp of our closest family and friends as I stepped onto the aisle.

But all I saw was him.

Chanyeol.

In a tailored ivory tux.

His eyes glassy, lips parted, breath caught.

As if he was seeing a miracle walk toward him.

And maybe he was.

Because I had never felt more like myself…

And more his.

We wrote our own vows.

His voice trembled just a little, but never once did he look away.

“You weren’t part of my plan,” he began.

“You destroyed it. Rewrote it. Became all of it.”

“I’ve known boardrooms, battles, billion-dollar stakes…”

“But you you are my biggest risk. And my greatest win.”

“I’ll love you in the spotlight. I’ll love you in the shadows. In chaos. In calm. In every life, every version, I’ll find you again.”

“You’re not just my wife. You’re my home.”

By the time he slid the ring onto my finger again a thinner, matching diamond band to pair with my engagement ring I was crying. Smiling.

Ruined. In the best way.

“I do,” I whispered.

“I do, and I always will.”

That night, after the dancing, after the speeches, after the sky filled with a thousand tiny fireworks over the vineyard hills

He carried me into our honeymoon suite. A private cottage surrounded by olive trees and white roses.

The moment the door closed, he unzipped my dress with trembling fingers, kissed every inch of skin he uncovered, and whispered:

“You’re not just the girl I fell for.

You’re the woman I’ll worship.

Every night. Every forever.”

And under the softest sheets, with only moonlight on our skin and a promise between our hearts

We made love as husband and wife.

Raw. Reverent. Endless.

No scandal.

No secrets.

Just us.

Flash-forward: 2 Years Later

You’re barefoot in your shared Paris apartment, in his oversized white shirt again, baby bump peeking out, coffee in one hand, Vogue magazine in the other.

He walks in behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin on your shoulder.

Still the hottest wife in the city, he says.

And soon… the hottest mom.

You giggle.

And you know this love, this life?

It was never part of the plan.

But it was always meant to be.

[loeyshine]

Tides of Her

Epoch book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: island au, summer romance, slow burn, city boy x island girl. “If you want to know how much I love you, count all the waves in the sea.”

Description: A city boy, a wild island girl two worlds collide under sunlit waves, where longing letters and ocean vows rewrite forever.

Playlist: angel eyes — abba

Chapter 1: “Her”

POV: Park Chanyeol

The ocean wind hit different here. It wasn’t like the artificial breeze of the city, tainted by metal, noise, and exhaust. This was pure. Salty, untamed, humid in the most intoxicating way. We had only just docked a few hours ago, after a rocky boat ride that left Sehun threatening to throw up his entire soul.

The island was hidden, untouched, and wild.

I was adjusting to the sun real sun burning on my skin as I walked barefoot over sand that felt like powdered sugar. Jongin had already run off to take “candid aesthetic pics,” and Baekhyun was busy flirting with a local girl selling coconuts. Typical.

I didn’t expect to get much out of this trip, honestly. It was Junmyeon-hyung’s idea something about “detoxing from the city” and “finding your balance.” I came for the view. Maybe a drink. Some peace.

And then I saw her.

She appeared like she belonged here as much a part of the island as the ocean itself.

Long sun-kissed limbs, droplets clinging to her golden skin as she hopped off her surfboard. Wet hair tied messily, two-piece bikini hugging curves that could make a man forget his own name. She was laughing at something one of the other instructors said, dimples flashing, a natural glow radiating off of her even in the shade.

Time stuttered.

My breath caught like a rookie's first mic feedback.

Every thought fell away except her.

She didn’t even see me. Didn’t even glance my way.

But I couldn’t look away.

She was all confidence and grace, muscles moving with effortless control as she carried her board up the shore. A goddess, barefoot in the sand, leaving chaos in her wake without even knowing.

I felt like a stupid city boy with his jaw on the floor, mesmerized like I had never seen a real woman before. Maybe I hadn’t.

Not like her.

Island girl. Sunfire. Siren.

I didn’t know her name. She didn’t know I existed.

But I was already drowning and the ocean had nothing to do with it.

POV: Y/N

The sun was fierce today. The tide was strong, just the way I liked it. Waves rolling in sharp and fast, challenging, playful. Paradise to anyone who knew how to ride them.

I dragged my board up the beach, still laughing at something Kai the other instructor had shouted from the water. My body was sore in the best way, the kind that made me feel alive. This was home. The salt, the sea, the sand sticking to my skin.

I flicked water from my lashes, adjusted the straps of my bikini top, and started heading toward the shack where we kept our gear.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a group of guys watching from further down the beach. Tourists.

One of them stood out.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Ridiculously good hair soft brown curls that looked tousled by the wind in just the right way. He had sunglasses perched on his nose, but I could feel his gaze like heat. He wasn’t trying to be obvious about it, but I had a sixth sense for these things.

He was watching me.

No studying me.

I didn’t look too long. I didn’t have to. Just one glance was enough to know he wasn’t like the usual vacation types.

He looked… almost out of place. The kind of guy who probably lived in high-rises with city lights for stars. A city boy who didn’t quite know what to do with all this sky, all this space.

And yet, he looked curious. Like something in him had clicked the moment he stepped off that boat.

Still… whatever. Not the first time someone stared. Not the last.

I went back to rinsing my board, pulling my hair into a knot, sand clinging to the back of my thighs. I could feel his gaze like a tide rising quiet but persistent.

But I didn’t look back again.

Let them wonder.

If he really wanted to talk, he’d have to do more than just look.

Because on this island? We don’t chase the waves.

We ride them.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2: Lessons Begin

POV: Park Chanyeol

I don’t surf.

Never tried it, never thought about it. Honestly, I barely know how to swim without looking like I’m flailing for dear life. But when I saw the surfboard rental booth and the girl behind it her I made the quickest, dumbest decision of my life.

“I’d like to sign up for surfing lessons,” I said, trying to sound chill.

She looked up. Finally.

And damn.

Up close, she was even more devastating. Smooth skin still glistening with sea spray, strands of her wet hair framing her face like the wind itself was obsessed with her. Her eyes met mine, cool and unreadable, like the ocean just before a storm.

“You surf?” she asked, raising a brow.

Lie. Lie. Lie. “A little.” I flashed a small grin. “I mean… I’ve seen people do it.”

She tilted her head. “So… no.”

I laughed caught. “Not yet. But I want to learn.”

She squinted at me for a second, suspicious. “You sure about that, city boy?”

Ah, so I gave myself away already. I scratched the back of my neck. “That obvious?”

“Very.” Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but something close. “You don’t even have a tan line. Your skin’s practically allergic to the sun.”

I shrugged. “Thought I’d try something new. Face my fears. Let the ocean humble me a little.”

She studied me again, and for a heartbeat, I swear the air around us thickened. Then she turned, grabbed a board, and tossed it toward me. I caught it barely. It was heavier than I expected.

“Alright, Seoul boy. Let’s see if you can handle a wave without crying to your mommy.”

I grinned, heat curling low in my stomach. “Was that your way of saying you’ll teach me?”

She smirked. “I’ll try not to let you drown. No promises though.”

She turned and walked ahead of me toward the shore, hips swaying effortlessly with each step, her board slung over her shoulder like she was born holding it.

And I followed.

God help me, I followed.

Not because I wanted to learn to surf.

But because she was the kind of storm I wanted to get caught in.

POV: Y/N

He was all limbs.

Towering, clumsy, kind of adorable in a lost puppy kind of way if that puppy had broad shoulders, tanned skin, and a voice deep enough to make my spine tingle.

Still, he was clearly faking it.

I’ve taught tourists before honeymooners, influencers, adrenaline junkies but never someone who looked at a surfboard like it was alien technology. He held it wrong, stood too stiff, and hesitated every time the tide moved.

He had no idea what he was doing.

But he was trying. And he was trying hard. For me, obviously.

I didn’t call him out on it. Yet.

Instead, I smirked and made him paddle out just past the break. “Pop up,” I called out, hands on my hips as I stood ankle-deep in the surf. “Like I showed you. Quick. Fluid.”

Chanyeol glanced nervously at the water, then at me. “What if I fall?”

I shrugged. “Then the ocean claims your soul. Typical island initiation.”

His eyes widened, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. “Kidding, city boy. You’ll be fine.”

He gave me a look part glare, part grin and then tried it.

And immediately wiped out.

Like, spectacularly.

Water splashed everywhere. The board flipped. His limbs flew.

I covered my mouth with my hand, but it was no use I burst out laughing. Loud, unbothered, echoing across the beach.

He came up spluttering, wiping seawater from his face, his hair plastered to his forehead. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I felt it from here.” I tossed him a floating strap. “You good?”

He nodded, catching his breath. “I think the wave just slapped me into next week.”

“Serves you right for lying about knowing how to surf,” I teased, stepping closer as the tide rolled in around our ankles. “You’re lucky I didn’t let the ocean have you.”

He grinned, the sun glinting off his wet skin, eyes softening as he looked at me. “Maybe I just needed the right teacher.”

For a second, I didn’t say anything.

The breeze curled between us. The waves hushed around our legs.

And I realized something I hadn’t before

He wasn’t just some bored tourist.

He was watching.

Listening.

Trying not just to surf but to know me.

Damn.

Dangerous.

I looked away first. “You’ve got five more tries. Then I’m making you carry all the boards back.”

His laugh was warm, low, and so stupidly attractive. “Yes, ma’am.”

I turned back toward the water, heart thudding louder than the tide.

Stupid city boy.

Might actually survive this island.

And worse

He might survive me.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3: Shells, Squeals, and Suspicions

POV: Y/N

I was still dripping seawater when I walked into our beach hut, but I barely made it three steps before I heard it

“Sooo… who was that tall glass of Seoul water out there, huh?”

Jade. Loud. Merciless. Arms crossed, eyebrow arched, already grinning like a shark who smelled gossip.

“Oh my god, you guys,” I groaned, peeling my rash guard off and tossing it at her. It hit her in the face. Deserved.

Didn’t stop them.

“No, seriously,” said Mia, sitting cross-legged on the bamboo floor with a coconut in her lap. “He was, like, seven feet tall and helpless. Looked like a giraffe learning to swim.”

I snorted despite myself. “He’s not that bad.”

They both screamed.

Like actual synchronized screaming.

“*SHE’S DEFENDING HIM!!*”

“THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”

“Y/N HAS A CRUSH ON SEOUL BOY!”

“Can you not?” I tossed a pillow next, but Jade ducked it. “He just asked for a surfing lesson.”

Jade flopped onto the bed, eyes wild. “And you gave it to him. Personally.You never teach unless it’s VIP guests or hot boys, and he’s not famous sooo…”

“I was just being nice.”

“Nice? You splashed him! You only do that when you’re flirting.”

I froze, caught.

Mia gasped dramatically. “You flirted?? You YOU SPLASHED HIM?! That’s like your mating call!”

I buried my face in my towel. “You guys are so annoying.”

Jade leaned over. “Admit it. He’s hot.”

I hesitated.

“Y/N…”

I peeked over my towel and exhaled. “He’s hot.”

They shrieked. Again.

“And kind of sweet,” I mumbled. “And awkward. But not in a bad way. He’s got this deep voice and these huge eyes, and he was clearly lying about knowing how to surf, but still showed up and tried just to talk to me…”

Dead silence.

Then—

“You're doomed.”

I rolled my eyes. “I am not.”

Mia giggled. “Girl, you’ve lived on this island your whole life. It was only a matter of time before some city boy came in and messed with your peace.”

Jade nodded. “But like… in a good way. He messed with your peace and now you’re smiling like a Disney princess after one lesson.”

“I am not smiling like a Disney—”

“You’re literally glowing.”

“I just got out of the ocean!”

“Glowing,” they both said in sync.

I collapsed onto the bed, groaning into my pillow as they teased me relentlessly. But under all their squealing and dramatic gasps, I felt something bloom quietly in my chest.

Something warm. Something fluttery.

Chanyeol.

Stupid city boy.

He really might be dangerous.

POV: Park Chanyeol

“Bro.”

“Bro.”

“Chanyeol. Be honest are you in love or just hypnotized by her ass in that bikini?”

Baekhyun was relentless. And obnoxiously loud.

I groaned into my towel, trying to hide the very real grin that had been plastered to my face ever since the lesson ended. I still tasted salt on my lips, still felt the burn on my shoulders, and my knees were absolutely wrecked from the number of times I face-planted into the water.

And yet…

“I think I might be in love,” I muttered.

Sehun choked on his drink. Jongin spit out half a slice of pineapple.

“No freaking way,” Baekhyun said, jaw dropping. “You’ve talked to her once.”

“Once is all it took,” I said dramatically, throwing myself back onto the lounge chair like I was in a soap opera. “She insulted me, laughed at me, made me carry my own board back, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“God, he’s down bad,” Jongin whispered.

“I told you not to flirt with the locals,” Junmyeon said from the corner, flipping through a travel brochure. “What if her dad owns half the island and you get exiled?”

I waved him off. “Worth it.”

Baekhyun leaned closer. “Okay, but seriously. Y/N, right? That’s her name?”

I nodded. Just the name made something flip in my chest.

“She’s, like… wild,” Sehun said, eyes wide. “Like a sea spirit or something.”

“She’s a surfer girl, bro, not a mermaid,” Jongin deadpanned.

“She felt like a mermaid,” I muttered.

Everyone stared at me.

“Okay, Romeo,” Baekhyun said, cracking up. “So what’s the next move? Gonna fake a sprained ankle just to get mouth-to-mouth?”

I threw a flip-flop at him. Missed.

“I’m gonna take more lessons.”

“More?”

“Yeah,” I said, eyes drifting back toward the beach where she’d disappeared earlier. “Every day if I have to.”

They all groaned like I was the cringiest person alive. Maybe I was. I didn’t care.

Because I remembered the way she laughed when I wiped out, the way her eyes sparkled when she teased me, the way her voice got softer when she asked if I was okay.

She didn’t look at me like I was an idol. Or a tourist. Or a guy with a camera crew behind him.

She looked at me like I was just a guy, standing in front of a girl, hoping to make her laugh again.

And I wanted more of that.

Even if it meant swallowing half the ocean in the process.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4: Boards and Beginnings

POV: Y/N

The sky was turning syrupy gold when the lessons ended for the day.

Waves had calmed, kids were running back home, and the horizon was painting itself in soft oranges and pinks that looked straight out of a postcard. I was stacking the last of the surfboards by the shack when I heard footsteps behind me slow, careful, hesitant.

“You’re gonna pull something if you keep lifting those by yourself,” a voice said.

I didn’t even have to turn. I already knew.

Chanyeol.

I smirked, shifting the board into place. “Didn’t think city boys knew how to carry anything heavier than iced coffee.”

He laughed, low and boyish, and I felt it settle into my skin like the warmth of the sun. “Lucky for you, I’ve been training. I carried my own shame off the beach earlier.”

“True,” I said, glancing at him. “That last wipeout was… impressive.”

He cringed playfully. “So I made your top ten?”

“Top five,” I teased. “Easily.”

He stepped beside me and picked up another board, surprisingly gentle with it. His height made everything look small even the longboard under his arm.

We worked in silence for a few beats, and I caught myself stealing glances. His hair was still a little damp, sticking to his temple. He smelled like salt, sunscreen, and something warm I couldn’t name.

“Have you always lived here?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah,” I said. “Born and raised. Same stretch of sand. Same view every morning.”

He looked out toward the horizon. “Doesn’t it ever get… boring?”

I shrugged. “Never. The ocean changes every day. You just have to know where to look.”

He nodded slowly, like he was trying to understand something he hadn’t noticed before. “You’re lucky.”

I tilted my head. “You’re telling me you’d trade Seoul for a place with no malls and no cell service?”

He smiled, but there was something softer behind it. “Sometimes silence is exactly what you need.”

That caught me off guard. I studied him for a second, then asked, “What do you do in the city?”

His lips quirked. “I’m in music.”

Of course he was. With that voice? He could probably hum and melt the entire tide.

“I write. Produce. Occasionally perform. Mostly I try not to go crazy.”

I chuckled. “That explains the need to escape.”

We finished stacking the boards, and I dusted the sand from my palms. He stood a little too close now. Not enough to make me step away, but enough to notice.

“I like it here,” he said quietly. “It feels… real.”

I glanced up at him. His eyes were on mine, open and unguarded.

Something fluttered in my chest not a wave this time. A ripple.

“Maybe you just like the instructor,” I said.

He grinned. “I won’t deny it.”

I tried to hold my expression. Failed.

A smile pulled at my lips before I could stop it.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt seen. Not just as a girl with sand in her hair and sunburn on her shoulders but as someone worth knowing.

All because some awkward, charming city boy couldn’t surf to save his life… and showed up anyway.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5: Bonfires & Bold Moves

POV: Y/N

The whole island smelled like grilled seafood, bonfire smoke, and rum-soaked laughter.

Once a month, when the tides were calm and the moon full, the locals threw a beach party just for us no tourists, no outsiders, just community. But this time, we made a quiet exception.

Because Chanyeol was here.

And somehow, he didn’t feel like an outsider anymore.

He sat by the fire, long legs stretched out, guitar in hand playing soft melodies that made heads turn and hearts slow. The strings shimmered under his fingers like they belonged to him. The flamelight flickered on his face, casting him in golds and shadows.

And yeah. I was watching.

I’d changed into a crop top and a sarong, salt still clinging to my skin, hair wild from the ocean breeze. Every time our eyes met, something tightened in the air between us.

It wasn’t just playful anymore.

It was heat.

The fire crackled. Someone passed me a cup of punch, and Jade leaned into me, whispering with a wicked grin, “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.”

I sipped and played it cool. “I noticed.”

“You’re gonna do something about it?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

Because as the music faded, I stood slowly, deliberately and walked toward him, barefoot in the sand.

He looked up, like he’d been waiting for me. His lips twitched. “You dance?”

“Only when there’s moonlight and bad decisions involved.”

He set the guitar down and stood, towering over me, something unreadable in his gaze. We moved just outside the firelight, where the shadows softened and the ocean was a whisper behind us.

There was no music now. Just the hush of the waves.

And the way his eyes dropped to my mouth.

“You’re dangerous,” he said softly.

I tilted my head, smirking. “Why? Because I can carry a surfboard and wear a bikini at the same time?”

He took a step closer. “Because you make me want to stay.”

That… that hit somewhere deep.

My breath caught. The fire was yards away, but I could feel heat building between us slow, magnetic, thick with tension.

I reached up and brushed a grain of sand from his cheek. “You talk like someone who wants to kiss me.”

His voice was low. “I do.”

I didn’t give him permission.

I didn’t have to.

Because the second my fingers brushed his jaw, he leaned down and kissed me.

And God it was everything.

Warm. Hungry. Not rushed, not polite. A kiss that said, I’ve been thinking about this for days. His hand slipped to my waist, pulling me closer, anchoring me in a way that made the world disappear.

People were dancing and laughing just a few feet away. The bonfire blazed behind us. But all I felt was him lips, hands, the way he breathed my name like it was sacred.

When we finally pulled back, we were both breathless.

“Still think I’m dangerous?” I whispered.

His voice was wrecked. “Absolutely.”

And this time, I smiled like I meant it.

Because he wasn’t the only one falling.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when I slipped out of the house, barefoot and quiet, the world still holding its breath.

Everything felt softer in the early morning the sand cool under my feet, the air gentle, as if the island hadn’t fully woken up yet. My head still spun from the night before: firelight, his kiss, the way his hands had cradled my face like I was something breakable.

I didn’t expect him to already be waiting.

But there he was.

Sitting on a flat rock near the edge of the water, hoodie draped over his frame, long legs stretched out, hair a messy halo from sleep and wind. He was staring out at the ocean like it had told him a secret.

I padded up quietly, and he turned before I said a word.

His smile was sleepy. Soft. Real. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

I shook my head. “Too much in my head.”

He scooted over, patting the space beside him. “Join the club.”

I sat, knees brushing his, and we watched the sun melt into the sky peach and rose gold, shimmering over the waves. It was the kind of view you don’t talk through. But with him… silence didn’t feel heavy.

After a while, he asked, “Was last night real? Or was that just… bonfire magic?”

I looked at him, really looked. His jaw was tense, eyes unsure for the first time since he got here. Like he wanted to ask more but didn’t know if he should.

I reached for his hand. Our fingers laced naturally, like they’d done it a hundred times before.

“It was real,” I said. “At least… it was for me.”

He let out a breath, shoulders relaxing. “Good. Because I don’t usually kiss girls on islands I just met.”

I smirked. “And I don’t usually fall for boys who can’t surf to save their lives.”

He grinned, cheeks pink. “Hey, I’m improving!”

“You still wiped out twice and tried to stand on the board backward.”

“Details.”

I laughed and he looked at me like he wanted to bottle the sound.

Then he turned serious. “What happens after this?”

I knew that question would come. I just didn’t think it would hit so soon.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I live here. You live there. But right now? Right here?”

He leaned in, forehead brushing mine. “Right now feels enough.”

I closed my eyes, letting my head rest on his shoulder, our bodies warm against the rising sun.

Maybe it wouldn’t last forever. Maybe it wasn’t meant to.

But right now

He was here.

And so was I.

And sometimes, right now was all the magic you needed.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6: Hidden Coves & Unspoken Heat

He followed me without question.

No one saw us leave not Jade, not the nosy aunties stringing up fish, not the early surfers waxing their boards. Just him and me, slipping through palm-lined paths only locals knew, barefoot and wordless.

The cove wasn’t on any map. It was my secret spot. Where the cliffs curved around like arms, holding the ocean in a private embrace. Where the water turned a shade of turquoise so clear you could see the way sunlight kissed the sand below.

“Whoa,” Chanyeol whispered as we reached the rocks. “This is… unreal.”

I glanced at him. His hair was messy from the sea breeze, shirt clinging to him in all the right ways, skin golden under the early sun.

“You haven’t seen the best part.”

I didn’t wait. I dropped my towel, kicked off my shorts, and ran straight into the water, laughing as the cold hugged my legs. “Come on, Seoul boy! Bet you can’t catch me!”

He blinked, startled. “Wha right now?”

“Yes, right now!” I dove under, the cool wrapping around me like silk. I surfaced farther out, treading water, calling out, “Unless you’re too scared!”

That did it.

With a breathless laugh and a muttered curse, he stripped down to his boxers and splashed in after me awkward and uncoordinated and absolutely committed.

We swam. We splashed. I dunked him. He got revenge by grabbing me by the waist and spinning us in a whirl of sun and sea.

And then it changed.

The laughter faded, but he didn’t let go.

His hands stayed firm on my hips beneath the water, and when I looked up at him, the playful glint in his eyes had shifted into something deeper. Darker.

My breathing slowed. His did too. The world went quiet.

“Y/N…”

He said my name like it tasted good. Like he wanted to keep saying it forever.

I swallowed. “Yeah?”

He brushed a wet strand of hair from my cheek. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“You’ve never met anyone who can outswim you,” I joked, too soft to be convincing.

His smile faded. “I’m serious.”

I felt my heart thud beneath the water, matching the press of his thumbs against my skin. I tilted my head, letting my lips part just a little inviting. Testing.

And he didn’t hesitate this time.

He leaned in and kissed me, slow and deep, like the tide pulling us under. His body pressed gently against mine, firm in all the right places, his hand sliding up my back like he already knew every curve.

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t loud.

It was crashing waves and heavy sighs, lips moving with the quiet desperation of two people who didn’t know when the world would pull them apart again.

When we finally broke the kiss, I rested my forehead against his, breath mingling in the space between us.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and husky.

I smiled. “More than okay.”

And for that moment in the hidden cove, wrapped in sea and heat and him I didn’t care about the future.

Because this wasn’t just a vacation fling anymore.

This felt like the beginning of something deeper.

Something wild.

Something real.

The moon was high when he knocked.

Three soft taps against the bamboo door of my hut barely loud enough to wake anyone but just enough for me to know it was him. I was already up, pacing barefoot, wrapped in a thin sarong, heart racing like the tide outside my window.

When I opened the door, Chanyeol was standing there, shirtless, his skin still kissed by sea salt and starlight. His hair was damp. His lips parted like he was about to say something

But didn’t.

He didn’t need to.

Because I reached for his hand.

And he followed me in.

The door shut with a soft click, muffling the sound of the crashing waves. My room was small only lit by the faint glow of fairy lights strung around the ceiling. The kind of glow that didn’t ask for permission. The kind that made shadows dance.

He stepped closer, quiet but intense, eyes scanning every inch of me like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“You sure?” he asked, voice rough with restraint. “Because if I touch you now… I won’t want to stop.”

I took his face in my hands, slowly, carefully, like I was holding something fragile and wild. “Then don’t.”

That’s all it took.

His mouth was on mine. Warm. Urgent. And the moment our lips touched, everything broke loose.

Clothes slipped off like waves peeling from the shore. His hands explored every curve with reverence, fingertips brushing along my waist, my thighs, the dip of my spine like he’d dreamed of this a hundred times and still couldn’t believe it was real.

He kissed down my neck, across my collarbone, slow and deep, and when he laid me on the bed, it was like the world had narrowed to just the two of us heartbeat to heartbeat.

“God,” he whispered, lips brushing just below my ribs. “You’re unreal.”

My fingers tangled in his hair as I pulled him back up, crashing my mouth to his again. “So show me it’s real.”

He did.

With every touch.

Every breathless moan against my ear.

Every slow, aching thrust as our bodies moved together like we were made to fit.

The way he held me like I was sacred.

The way I whispered his name like a promise.

It was raw.

It was desperate.

And it was us.

When it was over, he didn’t pull away.

He wrapped his arms around me, skin against skin, our legs tangled under the thin sheets as the sea whispered outside like it knew our secret.

“Don’t leave in the morning,” I murmured.

He kissed my temple. “Not until you tell me to.”

And just like that, under island stars and sweat-slicked sheets, all the tension, all the teasing, all the want finally, fully broke.

And something deeper took its place.

The first thing I felt was warmth.

Not just the golden spill of sunlight streaming in through the cracked bamboo blinds, but him. His body curved perfectly around mine, chest to my back, one arm draped lazily over my waist like it belonged there.

He was still asleep breathing slow and deep, lips slightly parted, hair a soft mess against my pillow.

And I… didn’t move.

I just lay there, letting the moment settle in. Letting the stillness wrap around us like the sheets tangled around our legs.

Last night replayed in flashed heat, hands, gasps in the dark, his voice saying my name like it was holy.

God.

I’d let him in not just into my bed, but somewhere deeper. And now he was here, sleeping in my space like he’d been here forever.

And the strangest part?

It didn’t scare me.

I turned slowly, careful not to wake him. His arm tightened instinctively around my waist as I moved, and when his eyes fluttered open sleep-warm and soft brown my breath caught a little.

“Hey,” he rasped, voice wrecked in the most beautiful way.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

A lazy smile spread across his lips as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re still here.”

I smiled, heart full. “You sound surprised.”

“I kind of am.” He brushed his thumb along my cheek. “Thought maybe you’d wake up and regret it.”

I shook my head. “I don’t.”

He let out a quiet breath, something easing in his eyes. “Good. Because I’ve never… had something like this. Not like this.”

“Neither have I,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to see where it goes.”

He leaned in, pressed the softest kiss to my forehead, and then another to my lips slow, unhurried, like we had all the time in the world.

“Then I’m not going anywhere,” he said against my mouth.

And right there, in that messy bed, wrapped in sea breeze and the scent of last night’s fire, something unspoken settled between us.

This wasn’t just a summer thing.

This wasn’t just heat.

This was the beginning of something real.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7: Serenade at Sea

The boat was small just big enough for two, with wooden paddles, a woven mat, and a basket full of sliced mangoes, sweet rice, and coconut water he somehow convinced my friends to help him prepare.

I should’ve known he was planning something.

He was whistling the whole time we walked down to the dock, sunglasses pushed up, hair ruffled by the wind, smug like a man with a secret. I narrowed my eyes at him when we climbed in.

“What exactly is this, Seoul boy?” I asked, leaning back on my palms as he rowed us out past the shallows.

He glanced at me with a grin. “This… is a date.”

My brows rose. “A boat date?”

“A floating private concert experience with fruit,” he said proudly, lifting the basket from the side. “Exclusive. Once in a lifetime. Very limited seating.”

I laughed, shaking my head, but my cheeks were already heating. The water beneath us was a calm mirror, reflecting the cotton candy clouds above as the sun slid lower into the sky.

When we reached the middle of the lagoon, he finally stopped rowing and let the boat drift. Then he reached behind him, pulled out his small travel guitar from its waterproof wrap, and cradled it like something precious.

“I knew you brought that thing everywhere,” I said, smirking.

“You didn’t think I’d survive an island romance without music, did you?” he replied, tuning the strings.

And then he played.

Soft, warm notes floated into the golden air. No audience, no pressure, just me and him and the hush of waves gently rocking us. He started humming low and smooth and then sang.

A song I didn’t know.

But it was about me.

I felt it.

Every lyric was sun-drenched and stolen, like he’d bottled last night’s kisses and put them into chords.

My heart ached in the best way.

When he finished, he looked up suddenly shy. “Too much?”

“No,” I whispered. “Not enough.”

He set the guitar down, leaning closer. “Then maybe I’ll write another one. One for every day I get to stay here with you.”

My breath caught. “Careful, Chanyeol. You keep saying things like that, and I might start believing you’re serious.”

He reached out, cupping my face gently. “Who says I’m not?”

The boat rocked gently beneath us as he kissed me sweet, slow, and full of everything words hadn’t yet said.

And in that quiet corner of the sea, with music still echoing in my bones, I realized something.

This wasn’t a summer fling.

Not a fantasy.

Not something we’d forget when the waves pulled back.

This was something real.

And it was only just beginning.

The clouds rolled in fast too fast.

One minute, we were still laughing in the boat, legs tangled, his fingers lazily strumming across my thigh like strings he couldn’t stop touching. The next, the sky darkened, wind whipping through the palms like it had a warning to shout.

“Storm,” I said under my breath, squinting toward the horizon. The lagoon was already shifting, gentle ripples turning sharp.

Chanyeol followed my gaze. “Bad one?”

“Yeah. We need to move.”

By the time we rowed back, the island was already preparing shouts echoing from the beach, canopies being tied down, children ushered inside by worried moms. The air was thick with the scent of rain.

“Come on,” I grabbed his wrist and tugged him through the wet sand, past our usual paths and deeper into the trees.

“Where are we going?” he asked breathlessly, ducking under vines and palm fronds.

“Somewhere safe.”

It was a tiny shack, hidden between two coconut trees, half-wrapped in ivy and forgotten nets. A leftover fisherman’s hut from years ago no one really used it anymore. But I did.

For quiet.

For space.

For storms.

We burst through the door just as the sky broke open. Rain fell in sheets, drumming on the tin roof, wind howling like it wanted in.

We were both soaked.

His white shirt clung to his chest, nearly see-through, curls stuck to his forehead. I could feel the rain sliding down my bare arms, the sarong twisted around my hips like second skin.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

And that was all it took.

He was on me in seconds, lips crashing onto mine with the same force the wind shook the walls. Our hands tangled in wet hair and soaked cotton. I backed into the wooden wall, gasping as he lifted me, pinning me gently but firmly.

The kiss was messy, wet, desperate like the storm had gotten inside us, too.

“Chanyeol—” I breathed, as his lips dragged down my neck. “We’re… gonna get in trouble…”

“No one’s out there,” he whispered against my skin. “Just rain. Just us.”

His hands slid down my waist, gripping me like he didn’t care if the whole island drowned, as long as I was with him.

We stumbled to the floor, laughing between kisses, tangled in limbs, in heat, in everything we hadn’t said yet. He kissed me like I was the calm in his chaos. I touched him like he was the fire I never knew I needed.

Outside, thunder cracked. Inside, we broke again.

But this time it wasn’t urgent.

It was slow.

Tender.

Raw.

Like finally letting each other in, completely.

And when it was over when we lay side by side on the woven mat, listening to the storm breathe around us he reached over and laced his fingers through mine.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

I turned my head, stared into those eyes I’d once called a storm.

“I’m yours.”

And just like that,

It wasn’t just the island that had changed.

I had.

By the time the storm passed, the world felt brand new.

The air was crisp and still, like the island had exhaled. Palm leaves dripped quietly. The waves had softened again, lazily licking the shore like they’d never raged.

And the light

Golden, slow, and forgiving.

We stood outside the old fisherman’s hut, barefoot in the damp earth, the scent of rain and salt lingering on our skin. Chanyeol’s hand found mine, fingers warm and steady, but his silence told me what I already knew.

The moment was coming.

The question.

The end of the bubble.

He didn’t look at me right away. His eyes were on the sea always on the sea.

“How long do you have left here?” I finally asked, the words catching in my throat like seaweed.

He was quiet for a beat. Then:

“Two more days.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me. But it did.

Two. Just two.

I let go of his hand. Stepped away. Just enough.

He turned, eyes soft, almost apologetic. “I didn’t want to say it. Not yet.”

“Then why now?”

“Because last night changed everything.”

The wind moved between us like a sigh. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked away, blinking hard at the horizon.

“Is this just a story for you, Chanyeol?” I whispered. “Some beautiful island memory to write songs about?”

He stepped toward me again. “Y/N no. You’re not a lyric. You’re not something I want to leave behind.”

“Then what are you going to do?” I asked, voice cracking more than I wanted it to. “Fly back and pretend this didn’t happen?”

“I don’t want to pretend,” he said firmly. “I want more of this. You.”

“But Seoul isn’t here. And I’m not going with you.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said, gently. “I know what this place means to you. I know it’s your home.”

His hand brushed my cheek. “But I can come back. I can fly in. Every month. Every chance I get.”

I looked at him, eyes burning. “That’s not the same, Chanyeol. This… us… it only works when we’re here. In this perfect little storm.”

He swallowed, jaw clenched like he wanted to fight it. “Then tell me not to leave.”

I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

He had a life waiting for him.

And I had mine.

So I stepped back.

And I nodded.

“You should go,” I said quietly. “But promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t write about this like it was a fantasy. Don’t turn me into a song.”

He stared at me. Then, slowly, reached out and pulled me into one last hug arms tight around me, his face buried in my shoulder like he couldn’t let go.

“I won’t,” he murmured. “Because nothing I write could ever feel like this.”

And as the sun rose behind us, bathing the island in gold, I stood in his arms and let the silence say everything we couldn’t.

This wasn’t goodbye.

But it wasn’t forever, either.

It was a promise.

A beginning

Even if it came with a little ache.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8: The Gate

Airports are too bright for goodbyes.

Too sterile. Too fast. Too full of voices that don’t belong to you.

We stood near his gate, surrounded by other people hugging, rushing, laughing, crying and somehow, we were the quietest thing in the room.

Like a secret nobody else noticed.

Like the moment was only for us.

Chanyeol had his hands in his jacket pockets, hair still messy from the ride, his eyes locked on mine like if he blinked too long, I’d disappear.

“Last call for Flight 7 to Seoul,” the speaker announced.

I flinched.

He didn’t.

“You still have time to turn around,” I whispered, half-joking, half-not.

He smiled, slow and sad. “You know I don’t.”

I nodded, heart already caving in. “Right.”

For a moment, we just stood there no kisses, no tears, no grand cinematic scene.

Just the kind of quiet that hurts more than shouting ever could.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a stack of white envelopes, all bound by a thin piece of string. My name was written on the top one in his messy handwriting.

I looked at it, confused. “What’s this?”

He placed it gently in my hand. “Seventeen letters. One for each day I was here.”

“Chanyeol…”

“And when I get home,” he continued, his voice catching slightly, “I’ll write you one every day until I see you again.”

My fingers curled tighter around the bundle.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.”

“You don’t,” he said softly. “You just say, ‘see you soon.’”

I closed the space between us, pressed one last kiss to his lips quiet, aching, slow. The kind of kiss that wasn’t meant to end, even if the moment did.

When we pulled apart, I whispered, “See you soon.”

He touched his forehead to mine. “And every day until then… you’ll hear from me.”

The final boarding call rang out.

He stepped back.

And then he turned, walking slowly toward the gate, until he was swallowed by the crowd and I couldn’t see him anymore.

I didn’t cry until I got back to the car.

And when I opened the first envelope, my name stared back at me like a vow.

“Dear Y/N,

I miss you already.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 9: 365 Letters Later

The sun was setting the same way it always did.

Over the water. Through the palms. Onto the porch where I sat every evening, barefoot, cross-legged, his words in my lap.

Letter number 365.

Exactly one year since the day he left.

One year since Seoul pulled him back, and the waves carried me forward.

And still

Not a single day missed.

Not one letter forgotten.

They arrived in bunches. Sometimes four at a time, sometimes delayed by storms or lazy mail boats, but never with gaps. Never empty.

Each envelope marked with my name.

Each one full of him.

His messy handwriting.

His thoughts, his music, his longings.

Sometimes sketches of the beach. Sometimes lists of everything he missed: my laugh, the scar on my knee, the way I always lick mango juice off my thumb.

I used to cry reading them.

Now I just… feel full. Like he never truly left. Like pieces of him had stayed behind, one sentence at a time.

Today’s letter was thinner than usual. One page. Short. Simple.

Dear Y/N,

365 days.

And not one second of them has passed without me thinking of you.

I promised I’d keep writing. But I’m tired of ink and paper. I want the real thing again. I want you.

So if you’re reading this... I’m already on my way.

Look up.

— C

I blinked.

What?

Look up.

Heart racing, I stood so fast the chair creaked. I turned, scanned the beach empty. The dock nothing. The path from the forest quiet. My chest squeezed.

Was this a joke?

A metaphor?

A goodbye in disguise?

And then I heard it.

A voice. Familiar. Low. Breathless.

“Y/N.”

I turned.

He was there.

Backlit by the sunset, suitcase in one hand, the other dropping to his side like he forgot how to use it. Hair longer, face leaner, but eyes

God.

Those eyes.

Exactly how I remembered.

I didn’t think. I ran.

Straight into his arms, burying my face in his chest, feeling his warmth, real and solid and home. His arms wrapped around me like they’d been waiting, muscles trembling just from holding me.

“I thought I was dreaming,” I whispered.

“I almost thought I imagined you,” he said into my hair. “But no one that real would fit on a page.”

I pulled back just enough to look at him. “How long?”

“As long as you’ll let me,” he said. “No more letters. Just me. Here. With you.”

I kissed him. Hard.

And he kissed me back like we’d both been holding our breath for a year.

No more waiting.

No more distance.

Just tides and hearts and the boy who kept every promise.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 10: Where You Belong

That night, the island was quiet.

No firelight, no music, no teasing voices or whispered goodbyes. Just the hush of waves kissing the shore and the sound of him

finally here.

Breathing next to me.

My hut hadn’t changed. Still the same mosquito net, the same uneven floorboards, the same worn bedsheets that smelled like sea salt and dried hibiscus.

But tonight, it felt different.

Because Chanyeol was in it.

Because he came back.

He sat on the edge of the bed, palms flat on his thighs, like he didn’t trust it yet like he wasn’t sure this was real.

I walked over slowly, standing between his knees. He looked up at me with that same expression he’d worn the first day we met awe, disbelief, a little wrecked.

“You okay?” I asked softly.

He swallowed. Nodded. “Yeah. Just… overwhelmed.”

I traced his cheek with my fingers. “You’re here. I’m real. You don’t have to imagine me anymore.”

“I know.” His voice cracked. “But I kept trying to picture this moment, every day, and it was never this much.”

I leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Then stop picturing. Just feel it.”

He stood slowly, letting his hands find my waist, pulling me close like he needed to feel every inch. And when he kissed me, it wasn’t rushed or hungry it was relief.

A slow, deep exhale.

A heartbeat made of lips and memory.

His forehead rested against mine, both of us just breathing for a while, caught in the stormless stillness of being found again.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, voice thick. “Some nights I didn’t know if I could do it if we’d ever have this again.”

I looked up at him, fingers curling into his shirt. “You wrote me through every one of those nights. You never gave up on me.”

He kissed me again soft, lingering, like a thousand letters pressed into one moment.

Then we moved to the bed, slowly, carefully, like we were rebuilding something sacred.

We didn’t rush.

There was no need.

Every touch was a reunion.

Every sigh, a homecoming.

When he slipped beneath the sheets with me, skin against skin, he held me like I was the last piece of a puzzle he’d been searching for in every city light, every quiet song, every passing day.

And I held him like the tide finally returned.

He kissed the inside of my wrist. My shoulder. My temple.

“I’m not leaving again,” he whispered into the darkness. “Not unless you come with me.”

I smiled, eyes closed, heart full. “We’ll figure it out. But tonight… just stay.”

His arms tightened around me.

“I’m already where I belong.”

And for the first time in a year,

I fell asleep with more than just his words.

I fell asleep with him.

The morning came in soft.

Gentle beams of gold spilled through the cracks in the woven blinds, warming the sheets tangled around our bodies.

His arm was around my waist, heavy and still.

His breath, steady against the back of my neck.

His chest, rising and falling like he’d finally learned how to sleep again.

For a while, I didn’t move.

Didn’t want to.

Because this this perfect stillness was the thing I’d dreamed about for 365 nights.

I turned slowly in his arms.

Chanyeol was still asleep, mouth slightly open, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. He looked peaceful. Human. Mine.

My fingers lightly traced the outline of his jaw, the slope of his collarbone, the curve of his lips.

And then like he could feel my touch even in sleep his eyes fluttered open.

A slow, lazy grin spread across his face. “Morning.”

I smiled, voice barely above a whisper. “Hi.”

He stretched, groaned softly, then pulled me closer until we were chest to chest. “Tell me this isn’t a dream.”

“It’s not.” I kissed his nose. “But if it was… we’re not waking up.”

He chuckled, burying his face into the crook of my neck. “God, I forgot what this felt like. Waking up and not needing a letter to find you.”

“You still owe me one today,” I teased.

He grinned. “I’ll write it on your back with my hands.”

We stayed like that for a while, just breathing, just holding, until the sounds of the island started creeping in the distant laughter of kids running barefoot, the sizzle of oil from a pan, a rooster crowing like it had too much pride.

Then

Knock knock knock.

Three taps on the bamboo door.

Chanyeol froze. I blinked.

“Y/N?” Jade’s voice sang from the outside. “I brought you breakfast… and maybe I was curious if a certain city boy survived the storm?”

I groaned and buried my face in his chest. “She knows.”

He chuckled against my skin. “Should we hide?”

I pulled the sheets tighter. “Too late.”

Another knock. “You two decent? Or do I need to bring sunglasses for the blinding sexual tension?”

“Jade!” I yelled, laughing. “Ten minutes!”

“Fine, fine! But when you come out, be ready the whole village is gonna know he’s back by sundown!”

She walked away humming.

Chanyeol looked at me, eyes wide. “Should I be scared?”

I smiled. “A little.”

He kissed me again, slow and sweet. “Then let them know. I’m not hiding.”

And just like that, we stayed in bed for a few more minutes hearts full, limbs tangled, the sun warming the room that now belonged to us.

Because he came back.

Because he stayed.

Because this wasn’t a letter anymore.

This was the real thing.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 11: Final Chapter; The Song Beneath the Stars

The whole island felt alive that night.

Tiki torches lined the shore, swaying in the breeze. Long tables were set with woven mats and trays of grilled seafood, sweet sticky rice, roasted bananas wrapped in leaves. Music echoed from a battered old speaker someone dragged out from storage. Laughter filled the air like smoke.

It wasn’t an official welcome party. No one said the words.

But everyone knew.

Chanyeol was back.

And he wasn’t leaving.

The aunties made him three plates too full for one person. The uncles slapped his back like they’d always known him. The kids kept stealing glances and whispering, giggling behind their hands whenever he smiled at them.

And he this Seoul boy in an oversized shirt and woven shell necklace

fit right in.

“You’re glowing,” Jade said beside me, nudging my ribs with her elbow.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I will. You’ve got ‘I spent all night tangled in my man’s arms’ written across your face.”

I tried to hide the grin pulling at my lips. Failed.

She raised a brow. “So when’s the wedding?”

“Jade!”

She laughed, disappearing into the crowd with a drink in each hand.

And then

I felt it.

That quiet shift in the air.

I turned.

Chanyeol stood near the fire, guitar in hand, eyes only on me.

People started to hush. Someone lowered the speaker. The ocean kept whispering.

He sat on a driftwood log, adjusted the strap, and strummed once. Just once.

But it was enough.

Then his voice came soft, low, full of that barefoot-on-wet-sand warmth that always undid me.

┃“I wrote a letter every day

But none of them could hold your name

Like my hands can tonight…”

His eyes never left mine. Not once.

┃“I counted days like waves on shore But now you’re here I want no more Just this. Just you. Just right.”

My throat tightened. The crowd faded. The music slowed. The stars above us held their breath.

And then he said it not in the song, but right after. Just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I came back for her.

And I’m not leaving again.”

Cheers. Whistles. Someone screamed. I think Jade cried.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Until he walked toward me, placed the guitar down, and pulled me into him like the whole world had narrowed to this one, wild, perfect moment.

“You really sang for me?” I whispered against his chest.

He smiled. “You were my muse long before you knew it.”

I kissed him. Soft and sure.

And the island our island roared with joy.

Because this wasn’t a summer fling.

This was home.

This was forever.

And we had the stars to prove it.

[loeyshine]

Trace

one-shot

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: angst, college life, strangers to lovers, tentative, emotional, mentions of sex ! “And how sometimes, the things that stay with us the most are the ones we never saw coming.”

Description: Two strangers collide under quiet skies what begins with a tear-stained handkerchief unfolds into love, longing, and unforgettable touches.

Playlist: collide — howie day

It was one of those days. The kind that swallowed you whole where the weight of everything just… collapsed.

Deadlines, misunderstandings with friends, homesickness, a phone call with my mom that ended in tears. I didn’t even know which part of it hurt the most. I just knew I needed to get away. So I found an empty bench tucked behind the Fine Arts building, hidden by tall hedges and the scent of sun-warmed grass.

I didn’t mean to cry.

But I did. Quiet at first just sniffles, curled into myself with my knees pulled to my chest. But then it spilled over, wet and desperate, ugly even. I hated crying in public. Even if no one was around, it still felt like a performance I hadn’t rehearsed for.

I buried my face into my palms. I didn’t want to be seen. I wanted the world to pause and let me breathe.

So when I felt someone standing in front of me, I froze. My breath caught. My heart flipped.

And then I saw it—

A hand. Holding out a soft, folded handkerchief.

Fingers long and gentle. The cloth looked freshly washed, neat like it belonged to someone who cared about the small things.

“…You okay?” a quiet, slightly deep voice asked. Gentle, no pressure.

I blinked through my tears, looking up slowly.

A tall guy stood there, wearing a hoodie too big for him, headphones slung around his neck, and paint stains on his jeans. His dark brown hair curled a little at the ends, and his eyes were soft. Not pitying, just… concerned.

We didn’t know each other.

Total strangers.

But something about him didn’t make me want to run away.

I reached out and took the handkerchief.

“Thanks…” I whispered.

He sat down on the other end of the bench, not too close. Respectful. Quiet. Like he understood the balance between presence and distance. For a while, he didn’t say anything. Just let me cry a little more, silently now, wiping my face with that small, comforting square of cloth.

After a while, I felt calmer. And still… he stayed.

“You don’t have to talk,” he said, staring up at the sky. “But if you want to, I’m a really good listener.”

I turned slightly toward him. “Why… are you being nice to me? You don’t even know me.”

He chuckled, low and airy. “Because sometimes… people just need to be shown kindness. Doesn’t matter if I know your name.”

“…Y/N,” I said, softly.

He looked at me then, his lips curling into the smallest, kindest smile. “Chanyeol.”

There was a pause.

“You’re… an art student?” I asked, noticing the paint smudges.

“Yeah,” he laughed softly. “Guilty. I was working on a canvas nearby and I… heard someone crying. I guess I have a soft spot for sad strangers.”

Another pause.

“…I’m not usually like this,” I whispered. “Crying like this. I just—I don’t know, I broke down.”

“That’s okay,” he replied. “You’re allowed to have bad days. You’re human.”

His voice was like a warm hoodie I could wrap myself in. Familiar, even if we had just met.

We stayed on that bench for almost an hour. Talking about random things after the crying passed our majors, music we liked, embarrassing stories from high school. I laughed once, and he lit up like he’d just won a prize.

When I finally stood to leave, I held out the handkerchief back to him.

He shook his head. “Keep it. For next time.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m gonna cry again?”

He grinned, boyish and endearing. “No. But maybe next time, someone else will need it. And you’ll be the stranger offering help.”

I clutched the cloth in my hand.

“Hey,” he called out as I turned to go. “Same time tomorrow. If you feel like talking. I’ll be here.”

I didn’t know it then but that bench would become ours.

And the stranger with the handkerchief?

He’d become everything.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

I didn’t plan to go back the next day.

But there I was walking to that same quiet bench behind the Fine Arts building, heart tapping nervously in my chest, holding a book I pretended I might read. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the quiet comfort I’d felt yesterday, like he knew how to hold space for people like me.

Maybe it was him.

And he was already there.

Sitting sideways on the bench with a sketchpad in his lap, one leg bent up, pencil tucked behind his ear, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His brows furrowed in focus, but when he looked up and saw me

That smile again.

Soft. Surprised. Like he hoped I would come back but didn’t expect it.

“…Hey,” I said, hugging my book.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up properly and patting the space beside him. “You came.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I admitted, sliding into the seat beside him. “But then I kinda… did.”

“Glad you did.” His voice was easy. Warm like the afternoon sun. “I didn’t get to show you the doodle I made of you yesterday.”

I blinked. “You drew me?”

He shrugged shyly. “Just a sketch. You looked poetic, even if you were crying.”

“That’s... weirdly sweet,” I murmured, biting back a smile.

He flipped his pad and showed me a pencil sketch me, curled on the bench, hair messy, face soft and vulnerable. It wasn’t polished, but there was something so… tender about it. Like he saw me in a way I didn’t even see myself.

“You made me look gentle,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you are.”

I looked at him then really looked. His eyes, deep and focused. His lashes were unfairly long, and the tips of his ears were red.

“So you just draw strangers all the time?” I teased.

“No,” he smiled. “Just the ones who steal my handkerchiefs.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the grin pulling at my lips. “It was a gift, remember?”

“Temporary custody,” he quipped. “I expect visitation rights.”

We sat there, the silence between us no longer heavy, but warm. He talked about his final portfolio, how he was behind schedule because he kept getting distracted. I told him about my literature professor who practically lived to torture us with surprise essays. We complained about overpriced coffee and the library’s weird smell and how it always felt like time ran faster in college.

And when the sun started setting, he glanced at me again.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay now?”

I hesitated… then nodded slowly. “I think I will be.”

He didn’t say anything. Just smiled in that way again, where it reached his eyes.

When I stood up to leave, he gently plucked a daisy from the grass by his foot and tucked it into the top spiral of my notebook.

“A reminder that even the softest things grow,” he murmured.

“…You always say poetic things like that?” I asked, a little breathless.

“Only when I’m around people who deserve them.”

That night, when I lay in bed, I opened my notebook. The daisy was still there framed by the page I’d doodled his name on without realizing it.

Chanyeol.

A stranger yesterday.

Now… something more.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

It started with the rain.

Not the kind that poured in sheets, but the soft kind the one that whispered against windows and made the air smell like earth and endings. I had forgotten my umbrella, of course, because my brain was a mess and my bag was full of everything except practical things.

Chanyeol had texted me earlier.

[Chanyeol]: You studying today? If you are, I claim the spot across from you.

I hadn’t realized how much I looked forward to his texts until that one buzzed into my phone. It was silly. We weren’t anything yet just two people who found each other on a bench but I found myself smiling at the screen longer than I should.

We met in the library that afternoon.

The table by the window, our usual spot now. The light was dim from the clouds, and the soft patter of rain against the glass became our background music. He had his sketchpad again. I had my annotated novel and a highlighter that was running dry.

For a while, we worked in silence. Every so often, I’d glance up and catch him scribbling tiny caricatures of the people walking past. He was pretending to work on his project, but I knew he was stalling.

I nudged his foot under the table. “You’re avoiding your portfolio again.”

“And you’re highlighting the same sentence for the third time,” he shot back with a smirk.

I laughed quietly, biting my lip. “Touché.”

He grinned and leaned back in his chair, stretching his long arms behind his head. His hoodie rode up just slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband. I looked away quickly, cheeks warming.

He noticed. And smirked.

“Too much?” he teased.

“Behave,” I muttered, trying to hide my smile.

Then it happened.

I reached for my phone on the table, just as he did the same to show me a playlist he made for “reading in the rain.” Our fingers brushed his hand lightly grazing mine. A simple touch.

But neither of us moved.

His skin was warm. The pads of his fingers rough from holding pencils too long. I didn’t pull away. And neither did he.

We both looked down at our hands.

Still touching.

Not holding.

Just… there.

My heart stuttered. A weird, fluttery thing. He turned his hand slightly barely there and let his pinky curl around mine.

Not a grip.

Just an invitation.

I looked up. He was already watching me, his expression unreadable, lips parted slightly like he was about to speak but forgot how.

And in that moment, the world felt impossibly quiet.

It was the kind of silence that wasn’t empty it was charged. Full. Like something wanted to be said but neither of us knew how to say it yet.

I didn’t speak.

I just let my pinky gently squeeze back.

Something flickered in his eyes then soft and surprised and maybe even a little shy. For all his playful teasing and confident smirks, he looked so… tender in that moment.

“I, um…” he cleared his throat and looked away, the faintest blush coloring his ears. “Didn’t mean to—”

“I didn’t mind,” I cut in, quietly.

We both smiled.

Then, almost like it never happened, we returned to our books and sketchpads. But the space between us felt different now. Warmer. Buzzing. Like that small, lingering touch had drawn an invisible line between our hearts.

I didn’t need a label for it.

I just knew… something was beginning.

And I didn’t want it to stop.

It was the kind of night where the world felt slower.

Classes were over. The air was cool and damp, the scent of rain clinging to everything like a memory. The streets glistened under dim campus lights, puddles reflecting gold and blue from the lamps above. The drizzle had softened to a mist barely there, just enough to make your skin feel kissed.

And there we were.

Walking side by side, not in a rush to get anywhere. Just… walking. Me, with my hands tucked into my jacket sleeves, and Chanyeol, with his hoodie pulled up and a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I like nights like this,” he said quietly, nudging a pebble with his shoe.

“Me too,” I replied. “It feels like the world is holding its breath.”

He looked at me for a second longer than necessary.

“Exactly,” he said, his voice softer than the rain.

We turned down a path lined with trees, where the leaves overhead caught the mist and glimmered faintly. My shoes squeaked a little with each step, and Chanyeol chuckled every time they did, because of course he did.

“I think your shoes are crying.”

“They’re in emotional distress,” I said dramatically. “Too many feelings.”

He laughed genuine, boyish, head slightly thrown back. And something about that sound made my stomach flutter.

I didn’t realize we’d stopped walking until I noticed the stillness between us.

We were standing beneath a tree, its branches forming a fragile canopy above. Drops of water slid down leaves like slow-moving diamonds. His face was dimly lit by the nearest streetlamp, golden and soft.

“Y/N,” he said, and my name sounded different in the rain. Like something sacred.

I looked up at him.

There was a pause.

A breath.

“I keep thinking about the bench,” he murmured. “The first time I saw you crying.”

I lowered my gaze. “I was a mess.”

“You were real,” he said. “And beautiful.”

My heart stuttered.

He took a half step closer. My breath caught.

“I didn’t plan any of this,” he whispered. “I didn’t expect to meet someone who’d... matter.”

I blinked fast, unsure of what to say, my pulse racing. “I didn’t either. But then you were just… there.”

He smiled gently. Then, slowly so slowly it felt like the universe was holding its breath for us he reached up and tucked a damp strand of hair behind my ear. His fingertips brushed my cheek.

It wasn’t lightning.

It was something quieter. Deeper.

He leaned in, his eyes never leaving mine.

And when his lips met mine, it was soft.

So soft it didn’t feel real at first.

His mouth was warm despite the cold. He kissed like he meant it. Like he didn’t want to rush. One hand cradled the side of my face, the other still in his hoodie pocket. It wasn’t just a kiss it was a moment, wrapped in rain and heartbeats and the ache of falling for someone too fast.

I leaned into him.

And just for a second, everything felt still. Even the rain.

When we finally pulled apart, I kept my eyes closed, holding onto the feeling.

He whispered, “Can I kiss you again?”

I nodded, smiling without opening my eyes. “Yeah.”

And so he did.

Under the gentle hush of a rainy night, we kissed again and everything else disappeared.

It was still raining when he offered to walk me home.

But instead, we ended up at his place.

He lived just off campus in a loft-style studio small, warm, and chaotic in the best way. Sketchbooks stacked on the floor, canvases leaning against walls, the faint scent of coffee and turpentine hanging in the air. A record player sat in the corner, humming something lo-fi and slow, matching the rain’s rhythm.

I wrapped his oversized hoodie tighter around me, sleeves swallowing my hands, the hem grazing the top of my thighs.

“You look way better in that than I ever have,” Chanyeol murmured from across the room.

I glanced at him from the couch, where I curled up with my knees to my chest. “You say that like you don’t know what you’re doing, letting me wear this.”

He walked over with two mugs, one in each hand hot chocolate, judging by the smell. He placed one in front of me and sat close. So close our thighs brushed.

He didn’t move away this time.

The air changed.

The space between us felt heavier now, not awkward but charged. Like every second was dripping with something we weren’t saying out loud.

I sipped slowly, the warmth of the drink nothing compared to the warmth radiating from him.

He set his cup down first. “Y/N,” he said, voice low, his eyes on me.

I met his gaze.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you since earlier.”

His confession landed in the space between us like a dropped match.

I swallowed. Hard.

“You can kiss me again,” I whispered, heart already racing. “If you want.”

His lips curved, slow and dangerous. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

And then he leaned in.

This kiss was different.

Less hesitant. More heat. Like something we’d both been holding back had finally cracked open.

His hand slid to my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek, then down to the side of my neck. I let my mug fall onto the couch cushion as his other hand rested on my thigh warm, firm, possessive in the gentlest way.

When I shifted in his hoodie, something about the way the fabric slipped up my thighs made him groan into the kiss. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered against my lips.

I smiled into it. “Why? Just because I’m wearing your hoodie with… nothing else underneath?”

He pulled back just enough to look at me eyes dark, chest rising. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

I shrugged, innocent. “Maybe I forgot my pants.”

He laughed once, low and breathy, before leaning in again kissing me deeper this time, hungrier. His hand slid under the fabric, up the bare skin of my thigh, stopping just shy of anything too bold. But his touch… it lingered. His fingertips left trails of heat and anticipation.

His lips left mine only to find the curve of my jaw, my neck. “God, you feel good,” he whispered.

I let out a soft sound that wasn’t quite a moan but wasn’t innocent either. “Then touch me,” I breathed.

His hand moved higher.

My breath hitched.

He paused, eyes flicking up to mine again, searching.

“I’ll stop if you’re not ready,” he said gently, his voice still rough with restraint.

But I leaned in, pressing my forehead to his. “I don’t want you to stop.”

And in that moment, every kiss, every inch of skin, every breath we shared it wasn’t just about lust.

It was something deeper. Something slow and burning.

Something real.

His lips met mine again hotter now.

Deeper.

No more hesitation, no more wondering. Just need.

The rain outside tapped gently on the windows, but inside… all I could hear was us. Our breathing, the soft hum of the record player, the quietest gasp I let slip when his hand finally slipped beneath the hoodie touching bare skin, warm and slow, like he had all the time in the world.

My thighs parted slightly beneath his hand, almost instinctively. His fingers grazed higher, brushing the curve of my hip, then dragging upward to rest on my waist. His thumb pressed into the space just below my ribs, like he was memorizing me.

"You’re so soft,” he murmured against my neck, voice barely a whisper. “So warm.”

I arched just enough to feel his body lean closer, his hips now pressing against mine, just enough to let me know he felt it too. The hoodie had ridden up nearly to my hips by now, exposing smooth skin to cool air and his touch.

“Chanyeol…” I breathed, my hands fisting the fabric of his shirt at his back. I could feel how hard his heart was pounding beneath it.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, lips brushing the shell of my ear, voice lower now. “Please.”

“I want you to keep touching me,” I whispered, trembling from the rush of it. “Don’t stop.”

His mouth met mine again, hungrier this time. I opened to him completely his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, perfect rhythm that made me ache. He groaned into the kiss, one hand fisting the back of my hair gently, the other trailing down again between my legs, under the hoodie.

This time, he didn’t stop.

Fingers slid along my inner thigh, teasing, barely grazing until he reached where I was already wet for him.

He paused.

Then looked at me.

His eyes, dark with want but so careful, locked onto mine. “You’re soaked,” he said softly, his voice shaking slightly.

I nodded, biting my lip. “I’ve been since the kiss in the rain.”

That did it.

His mouth crashed into mine again desperate, like I had just snapped something inside him. His fingers slipped between my folds, stroking gently, slowly, learning every reaction. I gasped into his mouth, legs spreading wider, body arching into his hand.

He played me like he knew me for years.

Every touch deliberate.

Every pass of his fingers right where I needed him, pressing circles into my clit while his mouth moved to my neck, licking and sucking until I was whispering his name again and again, breathless and wrecked.

“Please, please…” I didn’t even know what I was begging for anymore.

But he did.

He slid two fingers inside me, slow at first, deep, curling perfectly. My hands gripped his shoulders as he began to thrust them steadily, his thumb still rubbing me in just the right way. The hoodie was nearly off now, riding high enough to leave me bare beneath him, fully exposed but I didn’t care.

I felt beautiful.

I felt wanted.

“Let go for me,” he whispered. “Come on, baby. I want to feel it.”

And I did.

My body tensed, legs shaking around his hand, mouth open in a silent cry as the pleasure broke over me in a hot, pulsing wave. I clung to him, breathing hard, heart racing. He held me through it, whispering soft things into my hair as I came down telling me how beautiful I looked, how good I felt, how he couldn’t believe he was the one touching me like this.

And then he pulled back slightly, face flushed, hair messy.

“I want all of you,” he said, voice thick with want, but patient. “But only if you want it too.”

I looked at him at those eyes that had seen me at my worst, at the boy who offered me a handkerchief before he ever touched my body.

And I whispered, “I want you. Now.”

The moment I said *“I want you. Now,”*

he stopped breathing for a second.

Then something shifted behind his eyes.

Like restraint had been holding him back, and now it was gone.

He leaned in and kissed me again deep, slow, possessive. His hand slid up my thigh, under the hoodie, across my bare waist, over my chest exploring me like I was a canvas he’d been dying to touch but had waited for permission. His palm covered my breast, thumb grazing my nipple, and I gasped into his mouth, my whole body responding.

“I’ve never wanted anything like this before,” he said against my lips. “Not just your body…you. All of you.”

The hoodie slipped off my shoulder, then down my arms. Slowly, reverently. He peeled it from me like it was sacred, like I was the softest thing he’d ever touched. And now I was bare in front of him completely, fully bare.

And he just… looked at me.

Eyes wide, stunned. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, more to himself than to me.

I tugged at his shirt wordlessly, needing to feel him the way he saw me. He helped me pull it off, tossing it somewhere behind him. My hands traced the hard lines of his chest, the dip of his waist, the ridges of muscle I hadn’t expected but was now completely obsessed with.

He caught my hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed each fingertip like they meant something to him.

Then, he gently guided me backward, laying me onto the couch.

He settled between my legs, one hand cradling my jaw, the other sliding down slow, teasing, until it gripped my thigh and pulled me closer to him. He was still wearing his sweatpants, but I could feel him hard, pressed against me, only one thin layer separating us now.

I whimpered when he rocked his hips forward. “Chanyeol…”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “We’ll go slow.”

He kissed down my chest lips brushing the soft swell of my breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth until I arched into him. His other hand was between us again, stroking between my legs, getting me wet again deeper this time, like he was ready to claim me, memorize how I came apart in his hands.

When he finally sat back, breathless, pupils blown wide, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his sweats and dragged them down slowly.

God.

He was thick, flushed, already leaking. My mouth went dry.

“Condom?” I asked, voice already trembling.

He nodded and reached into the drawer beside the couch. “Yeah yeah, I’ve got one. Always hoped I’d use it with someone who made me feel like this.”

He tore the packet open, rolling it on with a shaky hand. Then he looked at me again really looked.

“Ready?”

I nodded, legs parting for him again. “Please.”

And then he was there at my entrance, pushing in slowly. So slow, so careful. His breath caught. My nails dug into his shoulders, the stretch making me whimper, but he paused every inch, giving me time. Kissing me through it.

When he was fully in, we both stilled.

His forehead pressed to mine. “You feel… fucking perfect.”

And then he moved.

Slow. Deep. Rolling his hips into mine like he had all the time in the world.

No rushing. No slamming. Just slow, delicious strokes that filled me so completely I could barely speak. Every thrust had meaning. Every gasp he pulled from me felt earned.

“You’re mine tonight,” he whispered. “All of you. And I’m yours.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding him closer, meeting every thrust. He kissed me over and over my mouth, my shoulder, my throat saying my name like a prayer.

It built slowly, the pressure between my hips rising higher and higher with every deep, perfect grind of his body into mine.

“Chanyeol—I’m close, I—”

He kissed me hard. “Come with me.”

And then he picked up the pace still deep, but faster now, harder, the wet slap of skin and my breathy moans filling the room.

When I came, it was overwhelming. My body clenched around him, thighs trembling, stars behind my eyes.

He came right after groaning my name, burying his face into my neck as he spilled into the condom, body shuddering with the force of it.

We stayed tangled there, bodies flushed and sweat-damp, chests rising together. His arms wrapped around me like he never wanted to let go.

And I didn’t want him to.

Because somewhere between the tears on the bench and the hoodie on his floor

I had fallen for him.

Hard.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

I woke up to warmth.

Not the kind from blankets but from him.

Chanyeol’s arm was draped across my waist, his bare chest pressed against my back, legs tangled lazily with mine. His breath tickled the back of my neck, soft and even. There was something about waking up in someone else’s arms especially his that made the world feel slower. Gentler. Safer.

I blinked slowly, letting the golden morning light stream in through his window. The rain had stopped. Everything smelled like clean sheets, faint coffee, and him.

Last night came rushing back his hands, his lips, the way he made me feel like the only thing in the universe.

And now, in the early hours, all of it felt even realer.

“Mm…” he murmured, voice still low and raspy from sleep. His nose brushed the side of my neck. “You’re still here.”

I smiled, eyes still closed. “You sound surprised.”

“I am,” he whispered, tightening his grip around me just slightly. “I thought maybe I dreamed all of it. Especially the part where you said yes.”

I rolled over slowly to face him, our noses brushing.

“Not a dream,” I said softly.

He looked at me with sleepy eyes and the softest, laziest grin. His hair was a mess, sticking up in the back. One of his curls flopped over his forehead. It was… adorable.

He leaned in and kissed me, slow and warm, like a good morning that didn’t need words. I sighed into it, fingers brushing against his cheek.

When we finally pulled apart, I bit my lip. “Do you always kiss this well in the morning?”

“Only when the girl in my bed wore my hoodie and nothing else the night before,” he teased.

I laughed and rolled out of bed, grabbing the first thing I could one of his long black shirts, oversized and soft with the faintest paint stains near the hem. I slipped it on.

It hung off one shoulder, just barely covering the tops of my thighs.

He sat up on one elbow, blinking at me like I’d just knocked the wind out of him.

“Y/N,” he groaned. “You’re gonna ruin me walking around like that.”

I smirked over my shoulder. “Breakfast? Or should I just keep distracting you?”

“Both?” he offered, climbing out of bed and slipping on sweatpants.

I padded barefoot into his tiny kitchen. The shirt swayed with every step, and I felt his eyes on me the whole time.

He made coffee while I stole strawberries out of the fridge. I sat on the counter, legs swinging, watching him fumble with eggs and a pan while his hoodie sleeves kept falling over his hands.

“You’re domestic,” I teased.

He shot me a sleepy glare. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I already am.”

He walked over, stood between my knees, and kissed me again his hands gripping the counter on either side of my thighs, his lips still tasting like toothpaste and lazy dreams.

“You feel like something I never expected but always needed,” he said against my mouth.

My heart did that stupid flutter thing again.

“Me too,” I whispered.

He bumped his forehead against mine, grinning. “Stay a little longer?”

I leaned in, arms looping around his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

We were supposed to be studying.

And technically, we were.

The campus library was quiet as always late afternoon light spilling through the tall arched windows, dust floating in sunbeams. Most students were buried in their books or half-asleep in study carrels.

We had claimed our usual hidden corner: the last row of the reference section, where no one ever really came unless they were seriously nerdy or procrastinating.

I was halfway through highlighting a paragraph when I felt it.

His hand.

Sliding up the back of my thigh under the table.

I jerked slightly, nearly dragging the highlighter across the whole page.

“Chanyeol,” I whispered, casting him a wide-eyed look.

He didn’t say anything. He just smiled like the devil in a hoodie, his other hand flipping through his sketchpad like he was doing nothing wrong.

“I swear to god—”

“Shh,” he murmured, leaning in so close I felt his breath tickle my cheek. “You’ll get us caught.”

“Then stop touching me,” I hissed, trying to stay still even though my thighs were already tightening.

“But you’re wearing my shirt again.” He dragged his fingers up higher, brushing just beneath the edge of my skirt. “And I can’t concentrate knowing what’s under it.”

My breath caught. “You’re insane.”

He leaned closer his voice a dark whisper against my ear. “And you’re already wet for me. Aren’t you?”

I clenched my jaw, body flushing. Damn him for knowing me too well.

His fingers traced the inside of my thigh, dangerously close now. I shifted in my seat, trying to act like I was still studying while he slowly slipped two fingers under the edge of my panties.

I gasped but caught it in my throat. My knees jerked together under the table. He forced them gently apart again.

“I said don’t make a sound,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Be good for me.”

Then his fingers found my heat.

One slow stroke just enough to drag slick over his fingertips and make me grip the edge of the table.

“You’re soaked,” he said, voice low and dark. “In the middle of the library.”

My hips jerked when he pressed against my clit slow, lazy circles that made my entire body hum.

“Chanyeol,” I warned, voice tight.

“No one can see us,” he murmured, nipping at my jaw. “They’d never know how pretty you look trying not to moan for me.”

And then he slipped one finger inside me. Then two.

Fuck.

I pressed my lips together, thighs trembling. My hand gripped his wrist under the table, not to stop him but to hold on.

He pumped them slowly, steadily curled just right and my whole body tensed, the rush of it coming way too fast.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he whispered, kissing my jaw, fingers still moving. “Right here? While people walk by just a few shelves away?”

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My orgasm hit fast quiet and shattering. I grabbed his hoodie sleeve and clenched around his fingers, mouth open in a silent gasp, trying desperately to stay still.

He eased me through it slower now then slipped his fingers out and kissed my cheek like he didn’t just wreck me in the middle of a public library.

“Still think I’m the one who can’t focus?” he teased.

I looked at him, breathless. “You’re gonna regret that when we get back to your place.”

“Oh?” he grinned.

“I’m not letting you leave the bed for hours.”

[loeyshine]

Room 313

one-shot

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: college au, wrong room, flirty, humorous, steamy, build-up, mature content ahead⚠️. “Can you teach me how to be gentle for you?”

Description: A sultry collision of music, temptation, and stolen moments where passion composes its own melody and love plays between the silences.

Playlist: champagne & sunshine — plvtinum, tarro

The wheels of my suitcase clacked softly against the polished dorm floor as I made my way through the eerily quiet hall. My dorm keycard was tucked inside my palm, still warm from the tight grip I’d kept on it since I got it from the orientation booth.

Everything smelled like a mix of new paint and old wood. The halls were empty, everyone either already moved in or still arriving like me.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, pulling my tote bag higher on my shoulder. Room 312. Almost there.

Just as I passed Room 308, I froze.

A strange sound echoed faintly from behind the door.

At first I thought it was the TV. But when I took another step, I heard it again. This time

Moaning.

Very real, very explicit, very not from a movie.

I blinked, my curiosity getting the better of me. I glanced around. The hallway was still dead empty. Not a soul. I shouldn’t have cared. I should’ve walked away. But instead like the nosy idiot I was I leaned forward and pressed my ear lightly to the door.

"Ahh—ngh, right there—"

My eyes widened. Oh. Oh my god.

They were really going at it.

My face burned, half-horrified, half-mesmerized, and I covered my mouth to muffle a laugh. I was about to pull away when

"Enjoying the show?"

I gasped and jumped back, practically dropping my bag. My heart slammed against my ribs. I spun around

and almost choked on my breath.

Towering over me was a ridiculously tall guy, in black sweats and a simple white shirt that clung to his chest like sin. His hair was messy like he’d just rolled out of bed, and his lips were pulled up in the cockiest half-smile I’d ever seen.

And his voice deep, smooth, amused.

"Wh-What?!" I blurted, stumbling a step away from the door.

He raised a brow, leaning in slightly like he was letting me in on a secret. "I heard it too. From the hallway." He smirked. "Figured someone was getting a little too excited about moving in."

My face burned. "I wasn’t—I wasn’t listening. I just walked past, and it was loud, and—"

He held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, no judgment. We’re all human."

He chuckled then, a low, warm sound that made me glance at him again.

He was... insanely attractive. Tall, with piercing eyes, thick lashes, a strong jawline, and the kind of easy confidence that made him seem like he owned whatever space he walked into.

"You new here too?" he asked, nodding at my suitcase.

"Yeah," I mumbled, trying to recover my dignity. "First year. Journalism major."

"Ahh." He grinned. "I’m Chanyeol. Junior. Music production."

Of course he was in music. Of course. With that voice and those fingers, he probably played every instrument known to man.

I tried to act casual. "Y/N," I said. "Nice to meet you. Despite the... soundtrack."

He laughed out loud this time, covering his mouth briefly before shaking his head. "Yeah, definitely an unforgettable first impression. Just don’t write about it in the campus paper, yeah?"

I bit my lip, smiling. "No promises."

There was a moment of quiet between us. Not awkward just charged. His eyes flicked briefly down to my lips, then back up.

"You heading to your room?"

"Yeah. 312."

He raised a brow. "No way. I’m 313."

I blinked. "Seriously?“

"Looks like we’re neighbors," he said, stepping past me to swipe his keycard. The door beeped open. "Guess I’ll be hearing more than just your playlists."

I blushed, again. "Excuse me?"

He winked. "Kidding. Mostly." Then he held his door open. "See you around, Y/N."

As he disappeared into his room, I stared after him, dazed.

New school, new dorm, new hot neighbor...

I had a feeling this semester was going to be very interesting.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

The campus was bigger than I expected. Wide open lawns, people sprawled on picnic blankets with laptops and iced coffees, bikes zipping by, and upperclassmen walking like they’d mastered every inch of this place.

Meanwhile, I was still trying to find my damn lecture hall.

“Building B…” I muttered under my breath, squinting at the map on my phone while walking, dodging a couple making out by a tree, and nearly tripping on a sidewalk crack. Classic.

I was so focused on trying not to look lost that I didn’t even notice the tall figure walking just a few steps behind me.

“You always ignore your neighbors like this?”

That voice.

I stopped in my tracks, my brain taking a full second to register it. Then I turned around and there he was again.

Chanyeol.

Towering, effortlessly hot, grinning like he knew something I didn’t. He had sunglasses pushed up in his messy dark hair and a hoodie slung half-on his shoulder like some streetwear model who didn’t even try and still looked good.

I blinked. “Wha oh. Hey!” I said, probably way too loudly, then winced. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“I figured,” he said, walking up beside me, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. “I was right behind you for like a full minute. Thought you were ghosting me already.”

I laughed. “No! I wasn’t I just didn’t expect to run into you here.”

He shrugged. “Well, fate works fast.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you get lost easily,” he teased, eyeing my phone map. “Building B?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’m hopeless with directions.”

“I figured,” he said. “That’s the science wing you’re walking toward. You’d be stuck listening to physics lectures if I didn’t stop you.”

I groaned. “Great. Embarrassing and lost.”

He chuckled and gently nudged my shoulder with his elbow. “Come on, I’ll walk you there. It’s on my way anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hey,” he said, glancing down at me with a small smile. “It’s either this or I let you barge into a chemistry lab mid-experiment.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling too hard. “…Fine. Lead the way, neighbor.”

As we walked, we kept bumping shoulders lightly never quite fully on purpose, but never by accident either.

“So,” he said casually, “did you hear anything else through the walls last night?”

I choked on air. “Chanyeol!”

He burst out laughing, eyes scrunching as he threw his head back. “I’m kidding!”

“You’re evil,” I muttered, flustered.

“You’re just mad I brought it up before you could.” He grinned smugly. “You were thinking about it, weren’t you?”

I elbowed him, trying not to laugh. “Shut up.”

“Never.”

We reached my building, and he pointed up at the sign. “Here you go. Lecture Hall B-104. Right on time too. Impressive.”

I looked up at him. “Thanks, by the way. For not letting me make a fool of myself. Again.”

He smiled softer this time. “Anytime, Y/N.”

Then, before he turned to go, he reached into his pocket and handed me something. A folded slip of paper.

“What’s this?” I asked, opening it.

On it, messily scribbled in black pen, was a playlist link and a note:

┃ Thin Walls Vol. 1 — a soundtrack for late-night neighbors

— Chanyeol

I looked up, speechless.

He winked. “In case you’re ever bored in your room.”

And then he walked off, hands in his pockets again, humming softly to himself.

My heart was beating faster than it should’ve been.

This neighbor is going to be dangerous.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Later that week, I was curled up in my dorm bed, hoodie on, earbuds in, reading over a class module I didn’t fully understand.

The hallway outside was quiet again. No moaning this time thankfully.

Just the soft strum of guitar chords through the wall.

Chanyeol. Again.

It was the third night in a row he played something around this time. Never anything loud just soft, warm acoustic riffs. Like lullabies with soul. And every now and then, I caught his voice… husky, low, humming into the strings like he didn’t know anyone could hear.

Except I could. And maybe he knew that.

I was just about to close my laptop when I heard a knock.

Three light taps on my door.

I padded over, peeked through the peephole.

Chanyeol.

Wearing a dark tee and sweats again, hair damp like he’d just showered, holding a bag of chips in one hand and was that a keycard lanyard in the other?

I opened the door, trying not to look too excited. “Hey.”

“Hey, neighbor,” he said, eyes raking over me for a second. “You busy?”

“Uh… not really.”

“Good.” He tilted his head toward his door. “Come to my room.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I mean—” he smirked, catching my expression, “not like that. I want to show you something.”

I raised a brow. “At midnight?”

“It’s not midnight.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s 11:46.”

I crossed my arms. “Still sus.”

He laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll make you a deal. Come to my room, I’ll play you a song I wrote tonight. If it sucks, I’ll walk you back with snacks and never bother you again. If it doesn’t… you stay.”

I tried to hide my smile. “And if I do stay?”

His eyes darkened just a little. His voice dipped lower.

“Then I’ll keep playing. Until you make me stop.”

Shit.

“Fine,” I said. “But I’m stealing half that bag of chips.”

“Deal.”

His dorm room smelled like clean linen and cologne. A guitar sat propped against the wall, and his laptop was open beside a mini keyboard. The lighting was soft just his desk lamp and the blue glow from an LED strip near the ceiling.

He motioned for me to sit on his bed while he plugged in a pair of studio monitors.

“So…” I said, looking around. “This is where all the music magic happens?”

He looked at me over his shoulder, smirking. “Among other things.”

“Chanyeol—”

“Kidding.” He strummed a chord, then motioned for me to come closer. “Actually, no. Come here. Sit beside me.”

I hesitated but only for a second. Then I slipped beside him on the bench in front of the keyboard.

He adjusted the mic arm and glanced at me, face suddenly a little more serious. “So I wrote this just after our hallway... adventure. The first night.”

I laughed. “The moaning room inspired you?”

He grinned, plucking a note. “More like... the girl I caught listening outside it.”

My breath caught. “Oh.”

He didn’t say anything more. Just started playing.

It was slow. Gentle. A little mischievous. The kind of melody that danced between flirtation and tension, the kind you’d imagine playing while two people tiptoe on the edge of something more.

When he began singing, I swear I forgot how to breathe.

┃ “She walks like a secret I’m not supposed to find... But laughs like she’s already mine... Caught her leaning close to something bold Never thought a wall could feel this cold...”

I felt goosebumps rising along my arms. My thighs pressed together.

He stopped playing and looked at me quiet, unreadable.

I swallowed. “That was... intense.”

He didn’t break eye contact. “You inspire intense.”

Silence. Not awkward. Just heavy.

“You okay?” he asked softly, noticing how still I was.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

I turned slightly to face him. “How dangerous it is to sit this close to you.”

Chanyeol’s lips twitched. “Oh?”

“You have that look.”

“What look?”

“That I-know-what-I’m-doing look.”

He chuckled under his breath. “That’s because I do know what I’m doing.”

His hand came up, brushing my hair behind my ear gently. His fingers lingered near my jaw, his gaze dropping to my lips and back.

“If you’re going to stop me…” he murmured, “you should do it now.”

I didn’t move.

And neither did he.

We just sat there, breathing the same air. Waiting for someone to break first.

And when I did, it was only to whisper“I don’t want to stop you.”

That’s when he kissed me.

Slow. Deep. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to memorize the taste of my mouth before doing anything else. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. My fingers tangled in his shirt.

The keyboard behind us creaked a little from the shift in weight.

When we finally pulled apart, I was flushed and breathless.

“I think,” I whispered, “you just guaranteed I’m staying.”

Chanyeol smirked against my lips. “Told you.”

His lips hadn’t been off mine for more than a few seconds before I found myself leaning back in again hungrier now. The soft strum of guitar chords still looped from the speakers behind us, filling the room with that same sensual rhythm he’d just played.

It was like the music was guiding us. Slow, sultry. Unapologetic.

Chanyeol’s large hands gripped my waist, tugging me gently into his lap. My legs straddled either side of him before I even realized what I was doing. His hoodie bunched beneath my thighs, the heat of his body radiating straight through me.

“You sure about this?” he asked in a low voice, brushing his nose against mine, lips barely touching.

I nodded. “If you stop now, I’ll scream.”

He grinned, eyes darkening. “Not a bad idea. These walls are thin, after all.”

Before I could reply, his lips were back on mine harder this time, deeper. Tongue brushing against mine in slow, deliberate strokes, as if savoring every second. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of my hoodie, skimming my skin.

I gasped against his mouth. He smirked. “Cold?”

“No,” I whispered. “Just—sensitive.”

His eyes flicked down, then back up to mine. “Good.”

He lifted my hoodie slowly, letting his fingers brush along the undersides of my breasts as he pulled it up and over my head. My hair spilled messily over my shoulders, and I could feel how flushed I already was.

Chanyeol let out a low breath as he looked at me. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

His hands came up to cup me through my thin bralette thumbs grazing the peaks until I arched into his touch. I bit my lip to hold back a moan, but he caught it.

“Don’t do that,” he said, voice rougher now. “I wanna hear you.”

Then his mouth was on my neck hot, open kisses dragging down my collarbone, across the slope of my shoulder. He nipped lightly at the spot right above my chest, and I gasped aloud.

My hips shifted instinctively, grinding down into his lap and that’s when I felt it.

Hard.

Pressed firmly between my legs, even through the fabric.

He groaned softly into my skin. “Keep doing that and I won’t be able to take it slow.”

“Who said I wanted slow?” I whispered.

That did it.

He stood lifting me with him, still wrapped around his waist. My back hit the wall beside his desk with a soft thud, his mouth on mine again, rougher now. The music was still playing, the sensual beat matching every movement.

One hand slipped into the back of my shorts, gripping me tight, pulling me against the hard press of his body. The friction made me moan into his mouth.

“Y/N,” he breathed, like he’d been holding it in. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“Then show me,” I whispered.

He kissed me again deep, messy, hot. His hands roamed like he was memorizing every inch of me. My nails raked lightly across the back of his neck, pulling a groan from deep in his chest.

We were a tangle of limbs, pressed so close not even air could slip between us. The line between teasing and giving in had vanished completely.

And I didn’t want it back.

Not tonight.

His body pressed me hard into the wall, and I could feel how tense he was every inch of him wound tight with restraint. His lips found mine again, slower this time, like he wanted to savor the taste.

But there was nothing slow about the way his hips ground into mine.

I whimpered, feeling the thick pressure of him between my legs, even through both our clothes. He pulled back just enough to speak, voice low and full of heat.

“You sure?” he asked again, chest rising against mine. “Last chance.”

I kissed him, rough and sure. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Something in him snapped after that.

He grabbed the backs of my thighs, lifting me again effortlessly and walking us across the room. I barely registered the way we bumped into his desk before he laid me flat across his bed, crawling over me, eyes dark with want.

My shorts were the first to go peeled off with one strong tug.

“You’re already wet,” he murmured, voice like velvet dragging over heat. His fingers grazed me through my soaked panties, and I squirmed at the first touch.

He grinned. “Sensitive again?”

“Chanyeol—” I gasped, and he slid my panties to the side, dragging a long, slow finger up my slit.

“Fuck,” he growled, almost to himself. “You feel unreal.”

He dipped his head, licking a stripe between my legs so slow I almost cried out. His tongue flicked my clit, again and again, torturously light, until I grabbed the sheets. His fingers slipped inside, curling just right, and my hips bucked.

“Stay still for me, baby,” he whispered against my thigh, licking me deeper now, moaning as if he was the one being touched.

When I started shaking under his mouth, breath coming in broken gasps, he pulled away leaving me desperate.

“Not yet,” he said darkly. “I want to be inside you when you fall apart.”

I was barely able to breathe as he stripped out of his sweats and shirt.

And when I saw him hard, thick, heavy in his hand I swallowed.

“Condom?” I asked, voice barely a whisper.

He reached into his drawer without breaking eye contact. “Always.”

Seconds later, he was over me again, one arm braced by my head, the other guiding himself to my entrance.

“Ready?” he murmured, kissing the corner of my mouth.

I nodded. “Please.”

And then he pushed in.

Slow. Deep. Stretching me perfectly. I gasped, my nails digging into his arms, legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

“Fuck—Y/N,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He held still for a moment, letting me adjust, brushing kisses down my throat, whispering, “You feel so good, baby. So fucking good.”

Then he started moving.

Long, slow thrusts at first, making me feel every inch of him. Each roll of his hips hit deep, and I could hear our skin meeting, the bed creaking beneath us, the soft moans from both of us rising with every second.

Then he picked up the pace.

“Say my name,” he growled, fucking into me harder now.

“Chanyeol,” I moaned, breath hitching, “fuck don’t stop—”

He grabbed my hands, pinning them above my head with one of his, the other gripping my thigh, holding me wide open for him. He was relentless now, hips snapping into mine, eyes locked on my face like he wanted to watch me fall apart.

“You take me so well,” he groaned. “So fucking perfect mine.”

My body started to tremble, the pressure building too fast.

“I—I’m close—”

“Come for me, baby,” he panted. “Come while I’m inside you. Let me feel you”

And when he reached down, rubbed tight circles on my clit while still slamming into me, I shattered.

My back arched, walls pulsing around him as I cried out, not caring how loud I was, not caring who heard.

Chanyeol cursed, burying himself deep with one last hard thrust, his grip tightening on me as he groaned low in my ear, releasing with a shudder.

We lay there after, tangled, breathless.

His forehead pressed to mine. The music still playing in the background.

And his voice, soft now, barely audible:

“I’m never gonna be able to hear this song without thinking of you.”

I smiled weakly, still catching my breath. “Then keep playing it.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

I woke up to the warm weight of Chanyeol’s arm draped over my waist and the soft rhythm of his breathing behind my ear.

His sheets smelled like him clean laundry with a trace of his cologne. The morning sun had just started slipping through his curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.

My body ached in all the right ways, and I was very aware that I was completely naked under his covers.

And so was he.

Last night rushed back in flashes his lips, his voice, the sound of skin on skin, the way he looked at me like I was something he needed…

I rolled over slowly to face him. His dark hair was tousled, mouth slightly parted as he slept, lashes unfairly long. His arm tightened around me instinctively when I moved, like his body refused to let go.

And I didn’t want it to.

I smiled to myself, fingers lightly tracing the tattoo on his forearm as I tucked my face into his chest.

Knock knock knock.

My eyes flew open.

Another knock louder this time.

“Yo, Chanyeol! You in there?”

Oh no.

My heart plunged. I scrambled upright, clutching the blanket to my chest.

Chanyeol stirred, groaning. “Wha—?”

“Someone’s at the door!” I hissed. “Chanyeol, someone’s here!”

He blinked at me, still half-asleep, then sat up slowly, rubbing his face. “Shit. That’s probably Baek.”

Baek?! As in Byun Baekhyun?! The one from his music crew?!

“Get the door!” the voice shouted from the hallway. “Bro, I forgot my USB in your mic case! Open up!”

“Oh my god,” I gasped. “I’m naked, Chanyeol!”

He grinned sleepily, not even pretending to panic. “Technically, I am too. Want my shirt or pants?”

“Both!”

He chuckled and reached down, tossing his oversized hoodie at me while pulling on his sweatpants with zero shame.

I struggled into the hoodie it drowned me, falling mid-thigh, sleeves dangling over my hands. I found my underwear tangled in the sheets and yanked them on under the hoodie just as the door rattled again.

“Coming!” Chanyeol called lazily, tousling his hair like he hadn’t just been naked two minutes ago.

I dove behind his bed, heart racing.

The door opened.

“Oh, finally,” Baekhyun groaned. “You take longer than my grandma to answer.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol said smoothly. “Was sleeping.”

“Smells like more than sleep in here.”

My face went nuclear red.

Chanyeol laughed. “You’re imagining things.”

Baek’s voice lowered. “Wait a minute…” A pause. “You didn’t you did.”

“Keep your voice down,” Chanyeol muttered.

“Is someone here?” Baek whispered too loud.

I froze, curled behind the bed like an idiot.

Chanyeol calmly shut the door halfway in Baek’s face. “You got your USB. Bye.”

“YOU TOTALLY HAVE SOMEONE IN THERE—”

Door slammed.

Chanyeol leaned against it, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“You can come out now,” he said, biting back a grin. “Unless you want to live back there forever.”

I stood up slowly, arms crossed over the hoodie. “Your friends are loud.”

“They’re jealous,” he said, walking over to me. “Because I got to sleep with the hottest girl in the dorms.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You mean in the dorm?”

He smiled, stepping closer, hands sliding around my waist. “No. I mean period.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at my lips.

“You’re lucky I didn’t have a heart attack.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t let Baekhyun see you in just my hoodie. He might’ve passed out.”

He kissed me then soft, lazy, perfect.

And for a moment, the chaos faded. It was just the two of us, in a room that still smelled like sex and music and stolen moments.

“So,” he murmured, resting his forehead against mine. “Wanna grab breakfast… or stay in bed until someone else bangs on the door?”

I smirked. “You know what? Let’s lock the door this time.”

The kitchen in Chanyeol’s dorm suite was barely big enough for one person to move in without knocking into something but that didn’t stop us from trying.

I was still in his oversized hoodie, legs bare, hair a little wild. He stood behind me at the counter, shirtless, casually flipping pancakes with the kind of confidence only a man who looked good in the morning could have.

“Smells good,” I said, arms crossed, leaning on the counter beside him.

He glanced sideways. “You’re talking about the food or me?”

I laughed. “Cocky this early?”

“I just had the best night of my life,” he said, not even trying to hide the way his eyes dragged slowly down my body and back up again. “I think I earned it.”

I turned, bumping his hip with mine. “You gonna feed me or just keep staring?”

He leaned in, voice dropping an octave. “Why not both?”

He flipped the last pancake onto a plate and set it aside, then turned to me fully. His hands landed on either side of the counter, caging me in.

My breath hitched.

“You look real good in my hoodie,” he murmured, lips brushing my cheek, “but I’m kind of tempted to take it off you again.”

I grinned. “What about breakfast?”

He shrugged, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You first.”

Then he kissed me.

Hot. Open-mouthed.

I gasped into it as his hands gripped my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the kitchen counter. My thighs parted instinctively, letting him step between them.

His hoodie bunched up around my hips, and the moment he realized I still wasn’t wearing anything underneath but panties his breath caught.

“Still wet,” he muttered, dragging a finger along the inside of my thigh. “Didn’t take much, huh?”

“Being around you is dangerous,” I whispered, pulling him closer.

“Yeah?” he rasped, lips ghosting down my neck. “Then let’s be reckless.”

He kissed down my collarbone as his fingers pushed my panties aside again, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made me whimper.

“Chanyeol—”

“You want me again?” he murmured. “Right here, on the counter?”

I nodded quickly, clinging to his shoulders.

He pulled down his sweats just enough, grabbing a condom from the kitchen drawer (of all places).

“You keep condoms here?” I laughed, breathless.

He grinned. “Was hoping for this exact moment.”

Once he rolled it on, he grabbed the backs of my knees and pulled me to the edge.

“Hold on,” he warned, and then—

He pushed in.

Slow. Deep.

My head fell back with a moan as he filled me, stretching me wide, my bare back arching against the cold counter.

His hands gripped my thighs as he started moving each thrust rocking the plates behind me, the pancakes long forgotten.

“Fuck, you feel even tighter in the morning,” he groaned, hips slamming into me with a rhythm that made the entire kitchen shake. “Like your body remembers me.”

I clawed at his back, barely able to catch my breath. “Faster please—”

He didn’t hold back.

The sound of skin meeting skin, our ragged breathing, the wet slick of where our bodies metit was obscene, loud, reckless.

And so, so good.

“You gonna come for me again?” he whispered, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit. “Come on, baby. Make a mess all over my counter.”

“Fuck—Chanyeol—!”

And just like that, I shattered.

My walls clenched tight around him, thighs trembling, mouth open in a breathless moan as I came hard, right there on the kitchen counter.

He groaned, burying himself deep one final time before he came too, holding onto me like he was afraid to let go.

Silence fell.

Only the sound of our panting, and the faint sizzling from the forgotten pan on the stove.

“…Your pancakes are probably burnt,” I muttered, forehead pressed to his shoulder.

Chanyeol chuckled, voice wrecked. “Worth it.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

A few days passed. After that chaotic, pancake-burning morning in Chanyeol’s dorm, things between us had shifted subtly but definitely.

He still sent me playlists. Still teased me when we passed each other in the hall. Still gave me that look in class when no one else was watching.

But now, there was more.

Now I knew what it felt like to have his hands on me.

What he sounded like when he lost control.

How easily we could get addicted to each other if we weren’t careful.

Which… we weren’t.

Campus was alive that morning students buzzing with iced coffee, exams, and group meetings. I was halfway across the quad when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Hey, hoodie thief!”

I turned, laughing. “You’re still mad I stole it?”

Chanyeol jogged to catch up, backpack slung over one shoulder, that stupidly sexy grin on his face.

“You said you’d return it. That was three days ago.”

“I’m bonding with it. It smells like you.”

He blinked. “That’s supposed to help your case?”

“Yup.”

He leaned in, close enough that his lips brushed my ear. “If you keep wearing my clothes, Y/N… people are gonna figure it out.”

I smirked, not backing away. “Let them.”

He looked at me for a second eyes softening, lips quirking.

Then a voice behind us:

“Ohhh my god. Wait. Wait.”

Baekhyun.

I whipped around as Chanyeol groaned.

Baekhyun was standing a few feet away with a smoothie in one hand and betrayal in his eyes.

“You’re together?! I knew it wasn’t a random girl in your bed that morning—”

Chanyeol dragged a hand down his face. “Bro—”

Baekhyun pointed at me. “And you! Miss ‘I don’t know where Building B is’?! I helped you find your lecture hall! You were innocent!”

I burst out laughing. “I still am innocent!”

Chanyeol scoffed. “Sure you are.”

Baekhyun grinned, walking over and throwing an arm around both of us. “Honestly, I’m just mad I wasn’t the first to find out. This is so good. The hot music guy and the hot new girl? You’re literally a K-Drama.”

I shook my head. “Can we not make this public knowledge?”

Baekhyun winked. “My lips are sealed.”

(He posted a meme about it on his Story an hour later.)

Later that day, I found a note slipped inside my notebook during class. Chanyeol’s handwriting.

┃ “Practice room. 6pm. Bring the hoodie. And maybe don’t wear anything underneath. ;)”

I flushed so hard I had to cover my face with the textbook.

College life just got a lot more distracting.

I should’ve known the note wasn’t just about music.

Not with that smirk in his handwriting.

Not with the way my thighs pressed together just thinking about him.

Not after the last time he whispered “I want you louder this time.”

At exactly 5:59 p.m., I stood in front of the locked door to the practice room at the far end of the music building. The hallway was quiet classes over, sky outside already deepening to dusk. I knocked twice, heart pounding.

The door opened before the second knock finished.

Chanyeol stood there, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, guitar still strapped over his chest. His eyes dropped immediately to the hoodie I was wearing.

His hoodie.

And, just as he asked I had nothing on underneath.

His jaw clenched. “You actually did it.”

I stepped past him into the room. “You told me to.”

He shut the door behind us, locking it with a soft click. “Do you always follow instructions so well?”

I looked over my shoulder, smirking. “Only when the reward’s worth it.”

He stepped up behind me, pressing his body to mine, hands sliding slowly around my waist. I could feel how hard he already was just from looking at me in his hoodie and panties.

“I wrote a song today,” he murmured, brushing his lips along my neck. “Want me to play it for you?”

“I came to hear everything.”

He chuckled darkly, lips grazing my ear. “Then take a seat.”

I sat on the edge of the small padded piano bench, legs crossed. He stood in front of me, strumming a few slow, seductive chords on his guitar his eyes never leaving mine.

The lyrics were low, raw, sexy.

┃ “She walks in wearing what’s mine, Skin beneath, nothing but time. Doesn’t say a word, just stares, And I forget how to play fair…”

My thighs squeezed together.

I didn’t realize my fingers were running along the inside of my thigh until he stopped playing mid-verse.

He stepped closer. “Touching yourself while I sing?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You never have to mean to.”

The guitar clattered softly as he set it down on the chair behind him. Then he knelt in front of me.

“Let’s get these off,” he whispered, tugging my panties down my legs with deliberate slowness. “I want nothing between us this time.”

I let him. I was already soaked.

“Sit back.” His voice dropped lower. “Let me play you instead.”

Then his mouth was on me tongue lapping at my folds with soft, sensual strokes, as if he had all the time in the world. My hands flew to his hair, tugging gently as he devoured me, humming against my clit like this was his real performance.

“Chanyeol oh my god—”

He slid two fingers inside me, curling them deep, hitting every right place until I was a shaking, moaning mess on the bench.

And just when I was close when I was right there he pulled away.

I whined, breathless. “Why?”

His eyes met mine, dark and blown wide. “Because I want to finish inside you this time.”

He stood, pulled his sweats down just enough to free himself, and rolled on a condom with one hand like he’d done it a hundred times with skill, with confidence, and still watching me.

Then he bent me forward over the bench, lifting the back of the hoodie, exposing everything to him.

He slid in with one hard, slow stroke.

And it was perfect.

“Fuck,” he groaned, both hands gripping my hips. “This view… this feeling you’re driving me insane.”

He thrusted into me, slow and deep at first, letting me feel every inch. My forehead pressed to the bench as I moaned louder with each movement.

“Chanyeol—”

“Say it again.” His voice was wrecked. “Say my name while I fuck you in my music room.”

“Chanyeol fuck—yes—”

The bench creaked beneath us, his pace punishing now, skin slapping against skin, the sound echoing through the soundproof walls.

“You think about this all day?” he growled. “Me bending you over, fucking you where anyone could walk in?”

“Yes yes I wanted this—”

“Fuck, baby. Me too.”

His fingers reached around, rubbed my clit as he pounded into me from behind. I was a mess sweaty, trembling, falling apart beneath his hands.

And when I came when the orgasm crashed over me hard I screamed into the padded bench, body convulsing as he kept thrusting, chasing his own high.

Moments later, he groaned, hips slamming into me one last time as he came with a growl, holding me tight.

We stayed there for a moment, panting, trembling, bodies tangled in heat and music and lust.

He pulled out gently, kissed my shoulder, helped me turn to sit back down.

“You good?” he asked, voice soft now, brushing my hair off my face.

I nodded, still catching my breath. “You just ruined every other song for me.”

He grinned. “Good. I plan on doing that a lot.”

[loeyshine]

A Name from the Past

one-shot

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: past lovers, reader’s ex, lost kid, unsaid love, park walk, date, angst. "I knew I'd never be able to remember what he wore that day, but I'll remember this."

Description: Two hearts, once wounded by time, find healing in each other’s quiet love and unwavering presence.

Playlist: falling slowly — glen hansard & markéta irglová

The late afternoon sun was gentle, casting golden rays through the leaves as you strolled beside Chanyeol in the park. The breeze was warm, carrying the scent of cherry blossoms and laughter from nearby families enjoying the spring day. You were walking slowly, content, as Chanyeol insisted on buying you both ice cream from a stall.

"Don’t move. I’m getting mint choco, like always," he grinned, jogging off toward the vendor.

You smiled softly at his retreating figure, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. As you waited by a wooden bench near the pathway, you turned, distracted by a soft tug on your skirt.

“Unnie…?”

You looked down and blinked. A little girl probably no older than four or five stood before you. She had big, curious eyes and wore a pastel dress with tiny bunny prints.

“Hey there,” you said gently, kneeling to her level. “Are you lost?”

She nodded timidly, clutching a stuffed animal. “I was looking at the balloons and… Appa told me to stay close but I walked too far.”

You reached for her hand. “It’s okay. What’s your name, sweetie?”

The girl smiled shyly. “My name is Y/N.”

Your breath caught.

“What… did you say?”

“Y/N,” she repeated, tilting her head. “My daddy said he named me after someone really special.”

The words hit like a soft punch to the chest. You felt the ground tilt slightly beneath you as old memories surged forward. That promise… it had been made years ago, under starlight and young, naïve dreams.

“Can I ask…” your voice came out almost as a whisper, “what’s your daddy’s name?”

Before the girl could answer, hurried footsteps echoed behind you.

“Y/N!” a deep voice called not to you, but to the little girl.

You turned.

Your heart stopped.

There he was.

Him.

Your ex-boyfriend. The boy who once promised you the world. The man who broke your heart without ever knowing the full damage he left behind.

Your gaze locked with his.

He looked just as surprised. Maybe even more.

You stood up slowly, heart thudding wildly, and the little girl ran to him. He scooped her into his arms, relief on his face. “You scared me,” he muttered to her softly, before glancing back at you.

“…Y/N,” he said, voice cracking a little.

“Hi,” you managed, mouth dry.

He stared, clearly at a loss. “I uh… I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t expect…”

You forced a small smile. “Neither did I.”

His gaze dropped for a second. “She’s… her name…”

You nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

There was an awkward silence. The kind that holds too many memories in its weight.

“I… I kept the promise,” he said quietly, as if that meant something now. As if that could undo the pieces of your heart that never fully healed.

You looked away, blinking rapidly. “I see you’re married.”

He nodded. “Two years now.”

“Congratulations.”

And then—

“Y/N!”

Chanyeol’s voice broke through the moment like sunlight cutting through fog.

He returned with two ice cream cones, approaching casually, until his eyes landed on the scene: You, a man holding a child, the tense air around you. His smile faltered.

“Who’s this?” Chanyeol asked, looking between you and your ex.

You swallowed thickly, taking the cone from Chanyeol to ground yourself. “Just… a friend. From before.”

You felt Chanyeol’s gaze linger on you a second longer, but he didn’t press. Instead, he smiled politely at the man and nodded.

“Well… looks like your daughter’s safe now,” Chanyeol said kindly.

Your ex glanced at you again like he wanted to say more, but the words weren’t his to say anymore. “Yeah… Thank you.”

He looked down at his daughter. “Let’s go find mommy, alright?”

The little girl waved at you as they walked away. “Bye, unnie!”

You waved back, holding back the ache in your chest.

When they were out of sight, Chanyeol spoke, gently.

“You okay?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you took a small bite of your ice cream. The cold hit your tongue, but it did nothing to cool the warmth behind your eyes.

“He named his daughter after me,” you said suddenly, voice calm but cracked. “He promised he would. Back when we were… stupid in love.”

Chanyeol didn’t speak, just walked silently beside you as you resumed your stroll, a little slower this time.

You glanced up at him. “Sorry. That must’ve been awkward.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m used to being the friend who gets to watch history unfold.”

You stopped walking.

“What?”

Chanyeol looked at you, eyes soft. “Nothing. Let’s keep going. Your ice cream’s melting.”

You looked at him really looked. At the way his fingers were fidgeting slightly. At how he wasn’t meeting your gaze.

And it hit you.

He knew.

He felt something.

Maybe… he had for a long time.

But today wasn’t the day to unpack that. You weren’t ready. Not yet.

So you walked on.

And beside you, Chanyeol did too.

Without knowing, he had already started stitching up the broken corners of your heart just by staying.

The ice cream had long melted, forgotten in your hand.

What stayed instead was a quiet ache in your chest a weight you hadn’t realized was still there until today.

You and Chanyeol didn’t talk much after the encounter in the park. He respected your silence. Just walked beside you, occasionally glancing your way, making sure you were okay even if he knew you weren’t.

When he finally dropped you off in front of your apartment that evening, he paused.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked softly.

You shook your head. “Not tonight.”

He nodded, offering a faint smile. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Then he left simple, dependable Chanyeol.

And you cried in the shower that night like the little girl inside you needed to.

One Week Later

You tried to forget.

Tried to drown yourself in work, in playlists, in your favorite dramas. But every now and then, you'd hear a laugh too familiar in a crowd. Or see a little girl holding her dad’s hand and remember her eyes how they sparkled the same way your ex’s did when he used to talk about the future with you.

The one he never gave you.

But most of all… you couldn’t stop thinking about Chanyeol.

The way he looked at you that day. The quiet pain in his eyes when you called your ex “just a friend.”

Because he wasn't just a friend to you.

And neither was Chanyeol.

You finally texted him:

“Can we talk?”

Later that evening — at Chanyeol’s place

He opened the door wearing sweats and a loose shirt, guitar on the couch, candles lit lazily around the room.

“I thought you’d come,” he said softly, stepping aside.

You walked in and didn’t speak for a moment. Just took in the warmth, the calmness… the safety of his presence.

“I didn’t lie,” you said quietly.

“He was a friend… before he was anything else. And maybe I said it like that because I wanted it to mean less.”

Chanyeol nodded. He sat down on the couch and patted the space beside him. You joined him.

“I know you still loved him,” he said gently, “and I don’t blame you for it. I just… hate seeing you hurt because of it.”

You looked down at your hands. “It’s like… I buried the feelings, but they never died. Seeing that little girl… hearing my name…”

He sighed. “It must’ve felt like a punch to the soul.”

“It was.”

Silence filled the room again.

Then softly, Chanyeol said, “But he didn’t get the best version of you. He left before she could bloom.”

You turned your head, eyes meeting his.

“And what do you see?” you whispered.

He hesitated. “Someone I’ve loved in silence. For a long time. Someone who deserved better back then. Someone who still deserves better now.”

You blinked, stunned. “Chanyeol…”

He looked away. “I know. I never said anything because you weren’t mine to love. But that day in the park… when you smiled through your pain and said he was just a friend… it hurt. Because I wished it had been me you chose back then.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to,” he said honestly. “I didn’t want to be the rebound. Or the second choice.”

You moved closer. “You were never second, Yeol. I just… never looked closely enough.”

Your voice trembled.

“I think I was afraid to move on. Because moving on felt like erasing the part of me that loved him. But now… I’m starting to think maybe moving on doesn’t mean forgetting. Maybe it means choosing someone who stays.”

He finally looked at you. Really looked at you.

“Then choose me,” he said softly.

You nodded, heart full, voice quiet but firm. “I think I already have.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

It started small.

A late-night call from Chanyeol:

┃ “I found this old song we used to love. Want to come over and scream the lyrics off-key with me?”

Or a text after work:

┃ “Movie night. Your favorite snacks. And a couch big enough to forget everything.”

He never rushed you. Never asked how you were feeling every second of the day. He didn’t need to he just knew.

You were healing in quiet moments:

– when he let you vent without trying to fix it.

– when he held your hand at a night market and didn’t let go when you hesitated.

– when you finally deleted the old photos from your phone, and he brought you cake to celebrate.

One day, he brought you to a rooftop with a view of the city lights.

“You don’t need to be whole to be loved,” he said, handing you a cup of hot chocolate. “You don’t need to forget to move on.”

You stared at him, tears threatening. “Then why do I still feel like I’m cheating on my past?”

Chanyeol turned to you, serious. “Because your past made you who you are. But it doesn’t get to own you.”

You looked down.

He stepped closer.

“I’m not asking you to erase him,” he said quietly. “I’m just asking you to make space beside the hurt. Space for new memories. Space for me.”

You reached for his hand slowly.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty.

Weeks Passed

He took you to his music studio.

“I wrote something,” he said, plugging in his guitar. “For you.”

You sat on the couch, wrapped in his hoodie, heart fluttering.

He strummed, voice low and raw:

┃“You came to me like a storm I didn’t expect, Ruins in your eyes, stories left unchecked. But I’d rather hold the broken sky, Than wish for a love that never tries.”

You covered your mouth. The tears didn’t hurt this time they felt like rain washing away everything stuck to your soul.

“You’re not a fixer-upper,” he said after the last chord. “You’re just human.”

You stood, crossed the room, and hugged him from behind. He froze then melted into you.

“I think I’m falling for you,” you whispered.

He laughed softly. “You’ve been falling. I was just here to catch you.”

One month later

You passed by the same park.

This time, you weren’t haunted by the memory.

You were holding Chanyeol’s hand, your fingers naturally laced with his.

A girl passed by, and you thought for a second it was her your name twin. But it wasn’t. Just another little girl chasing butterflies, her giggle in the wind.

You didn’t flinch this time.

Instead, you leaned your head against Chanyeol’s shoulder and whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For staying. For waiting.”

He looked down at you with that smile the one that saw your cracks and loved you harder for them.

“Forever, if I have to.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

It was late one of those nights where the moon felt too close, like it was watching everything with a soft, knowing glow.

You were on Chanyeol’s rooftop again, curled up on a blanket, the air between you filled with soft guitar strumming and unspoken thoughts.

He was humming something. A new melody he hadn’t written lyrics for yet.

You turned to him. “What’s it called?”

He looked at you with a half-smile. “Doesn’t have a name yet. I guess I’m waiting for the right words.”

You looked at him, heart thudding slow, steady, sure.

Something had shifted.

This wasn’t a crush. This wasn’t a rebound.

This was real. And it scared you.

But for once, it didn’t make you run.

It made you want to stay.

He met your gaze, like he felt it too. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

You swallowed. “Because I’ve been thinking.”

He leaned back on his palms. “Dangerous.”

You gave a small laugh. Then silence settled again, heavier this time.

“I think I love you,” you said, voice trembling.

“I didn’t realize it… I mean, maybe I did. But I kept pushing it away. Because I thought if I let myself fall for you, it meant my past didn’t matter anymore. But it does. And somehow, you’ve always understood that without making me feel broken for it.”

Chanyeol blinked once, then twice.

His smile faded into something quieter. Something real.

“You’re not broken,” he said softly. “You’re just… becoming. And I’ve been falling for every version of you.”

You sat up straighter. “So this whole time—”

“I’ve loved you,” he said, no hesitation. “Even when you weren’t ready. Even when I thought you’d never be.”

You let out a breath one that had been stuck in your chest for far too long.

Then, without overthinking it, without fear, you leaned forward.

And finally, finally, kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy.

It was slow like time paused just for you two.

Like the stars leaned closer to witness it.

His lips were soft, warm, and tasted faintly of peppermint. He kissed you back with years of patience, the kind of kiss that said “I’ve waited for this” and “Don’t go again.”

When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested against yours.

“I should’ve kissed you sooner,” you whispered.

“I would’ve waited forever,” he said.

You laughed, eyes glistening.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore,” he added, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over his skin.

“You won’t have to,” you whispered. “Not ever again.”

And up there, beneath the quiet sky and city lights, two hearts that had been circling each other for years finally aligned not because they were perfect…

But because they chose each other, piece by piece.

[loeyshine]

A Glimpse

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: mature content, innocent love, NSFW⚠️, mentions of sex, teenage lovers. “Damn, i should never know it looks like that”.

Description: passion burned recklessly between us wild, breathless, and forbidden. Every thrust a rebellion against the world outside that could never understand this hunger. In that heated blur of moans and motion, we weren’t just lovers we were fire chasing fire, colliding in a moment that felt both lawless and eternal.

Playlist: earned it — the weeknd

Chapter 1: Let me see

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon. The kind where the sky looked like melted cotton candy and everything felt still, like the world had paused just for us.

Chanyeol was sprawled across my bed, his long legs dangling off the edge while he flipped through one of my old manga volumes. His hoodie sleeves were pulled over his hands like always, his hair messily curling at the ends. Every once in a while, he'd glance up and smile at me, and I swear my heart would just… misfire.

I was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the bed, half-focused on painting my nails but mostly focused on him.

He suddenly stopped flipping pages.

"Y/N," he said, his voice unusually small for someone so tall.

"Hmm?”

He sat up, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Can I… um… ask you something?”

I looked up, already suspicious from how red his ears were turning. “What?”

He laughed awkwardly, then leaned forward a little. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

That definitely meant I was about to freak out.

“Okay…?” I said slowly.

Then he mumbled it.

“Can I see your… your boobs?”

My hands froze mid-air, nail polish brush hovering dangerously over my fingers.

I blinked. “What?”

His face turned bright red. Like tomato under a heat lamp red. “I-I just mean like not in a weird way! I mean I am your boyfriend, right? I’ve never… y’know, seen anything before. And I won’t do anything weird, I promise! I just ugh this is so embarrassing—”

I burst out laughing. Not in a mean way I was just shocked. And flustered. And definitely caught off guard.

“You’re such a dork,” I said, trying not to squeal. “Is this why you’ve been acting weird all day?”

He dropped onto the bed with a dramatic groan, hiding his face with a pillow. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything…”

I crawled up onto the bed beside him, poking his side. “Hey…”

He peeked out from the pillow.

“…You really wanna see them?” I whispered, cheeks already flaming.

He gave a tiny nod. His eyes were hopeful, like a puppy asking for a treat but afraid of being scolded.

I bit my lip, hesitating. “Just a glimpse, okay? Only this time.”

His whole body perked up, but he stayed where he was, nodding fast. “Yeah! Just a glimpse. I swear.”

I sat up on my knees, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. We were both so nervous, giggling and avoiding eye contact like little kids about to break a rule.

I held the hem of my loose shirt, looking at him one last time.

“You’re seriously red right now,” I whispered, grinning.

“So are you,” he whispered back, his voice shaking with excitement and disbelief.

Then, slowly shyly I lifted my shirt.

His lips parted slightly, eyes wide like he was seeing the stars for the first time. And despite how awkward it was, he wasn’t creepy. He just looked… amazed. Soft.

“Wow…” he whispered. “You’re… you’re so pretty.”

I pulled my shirt back down quickly, covering my face with my hands. “Stop!! You’re making it worse!”

He laughed, still dazed, and pulled me into a tight hug.

“I love you,” he murmured, face buried in my neck.

I smiled, snuggling into him. “You better. That was a once-in-a-lifetime viewing experience.”

He laughed again, and we stayed like that hugging, tangled in each other, two teenagers wrapped up in warm secrets and new feelings.

And yeah… maybe just a glimpse was enough.

For now.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2: Just a bit more

A few days had passed since the glimpse.

Things between me and Chanyeol felt… different. Not in a bad way just warmer. Closer. Every time our eyes met, there was a little spark underneath. A secret we shared. Something sacred.

It was Friday night, and he was over again curled up next to me under my blanket, both of us scrolling through dumb TikToks on my phone but barely paying attention. His hand rested on my hip, fingers playing with the hem of my oversized sleep shirt.

That same sleep shirt I accidentally forgot to wear a bra under.

And yes, I noticed him noticing. He was trying to be subtle, but I could feel the way his eyes kept sneaking glances when he thought I wasn’t looking.

“You’re being obvious,” I mumbled, hiding my face in the blanket.

“I’m not!” he defended but his voice cracked. Busted.

“You’re literally blushing right now.”

He laughed shyly and covered his face with a pillow. “I swear I’m not trying to be creepy… it’s just… you’re really distracting.”

My heart fluttered. “Distracting, huh?”

He looked at me really looked at me. His eyes were softer now, warmer. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

I blinked, biting my lip. The air between us shifted again closer, heavier.

We both leaned in without saying anything, like gravity just pulled us together. His lips brushed mine gently at first, then deeper, slower. I felt his hand slide to the small of my back, fingers pressing into me just enough to make me feel it.

We pulled apart for a breath, foreheads resting together.

“…Can I touch you?” he whispered. “Like… not just look this time?”

My whole body buzzed with nerves. But he was being careful. Soft. Asking.

I swallowed. My cheeks were burning.

“…Only if you’re gentle,” I whispered back. “And only with your hands. Just… over the shirt, okay?”

He nodded so fast I almost laughed.

“I promise,” he whispered. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll stop right away.”

I nodded, breath catching as he slowly, shakily brought one hand up under the blanket. He cupped me gently over the fabric, and I swear we both stopped breathing.

His touch was warm, nervous, reverent. Like he couldn’t believe he was even allowed.

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice low and husky.

I nodded again. “Yeah… just—slow, Yeol…”

His lips returned to mine, this time deeper, needier. His thumb gently moved in slow, trembling circles and I let out the softest sound into his mouth part sigh, part moan.

He froze.

“You’re killing me,” he whispered, forehead pressed to mine.

“You started it,” I whispered back.

We both giggled again, faces red, hearts pounding but our bodies still tangled, lips brushing, fingers exploring new places with cautious curiosity.

It didn’t go further that night but it didn’t need to.

That was our first step.

And it was enough to leave us both trembling under the covers, skin hot, hearts full, and minds racing with the possibilities of next time.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3: Not just a touch

It happened the weekend after.

My parents were out of town for a wedding. The house was quiet-too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your heartbeat echo in your ears. And maybe that's why I said yes when Chanyeol asked if he could stay longer. Maybe that's why I didn't ask questions when he kicked off his shoes and made himself at home on my bed again. Like he belonged there.

We didn't do much. Just watched a movie, shared popcorn, kept stealing glances at each other like idiots.

And the second the credits rolled, the tension fell hard.

He looked at me. His hand slowly slid into mine, intertwining our fingers under the blanket.

"Y/N..." he whispered.

I turned to him. I already knew what he wanted to say before he said it.

"...Can I touch you again? A little more this time?"

My breath hitched.

We'd kissed before. I'd let him touch over my shirt. But now, his voice had that low, needy tone that made my stomach flutter.

I nodded. "Okay," | whispered. "But let me... let me take this off first."

I sat up slowly, hands shaking a little as I peeled off my oversized shirt. My chest was bare now, fully exposed in the soft yellow lamplight, and I could barely meet his eyes.

But he was already staring carefully, like I was something rare and breakable.

He sat up too, his hand brushing softly along my waist, then up, until he cupped me fully with both hands. Skin to skin.

"God, you're so soft.." he breathed out, like it physically hurt him to say it.

I bit my lip, arching into his touch just slightly, feeling the heat of his palms on my bare skin. He leaned forward, kissing me deeply, and his thumbs began moving in slow, teasing circles across my nipples, which instantly hardened under his touch.

I gasped against his mouth.

"Is this okay?" he murmured.

"Y-Yeah..."

His mouth trailed down from my lips to my neck, slow kisses dragging fire along my skin. And then lower. Lower. Until his warm mouth wrapped softly around one breast, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak while one hand fondled the other.

"Chanyeol-" I whimpered, burying my hands in his hair.

He looked up, eyes dark and dazed, lips swollen.

"You like that?"

I nodded helplessly, thighs pressing together.

"I wanna hear you," he whispered, and his hand slipped lower, brushing across my stomach until it met the waistband of my shorts.

He hesitated.

"Can I?"

My voice came out barely a breath. "Yeah... just go slow."

He nodded and slid his hand inside.

I moaned softly when his fingers touched me through my panties-just enough to feel how warm and wet I already was. His eyes widened a little, like he wasn't expecting it.

"You're soaked," he whispered, voice almost in awe. "For me?"

I hid my face in his neck. "Shut up..."

But he was already moving slowly tracing my shape over the fabric, then slipping under it.

And when his fingers finally touched my bare slit, I gasped.

He was gentle so careful. He slid two fingers between my folds, exploring, learning how my body reacted. Every tiny movement made me tremble.

Then, one fingertip brushed my clit.

I nearly cried out.

"Right here?" he asked, already moving in small, slow circles.

"Yes-yes, there—" I breathed.

He kissed me again while his fingers worked me, building a rhythm, testing pressure and pace. I was squirming, hips lifting, trying to chase the pleasure, and he just held me close, whispering,

"You're so beautiful like this... so perfect..."

And then-he slid one finger inside.

My breath hitched. He paused, kissed me. "Too much?"

"No... keep going," | whispered.

He moved again-slow pumps, gentle pressure, curling just right, while his thumb worked my clit.

It was overwhelming, intimate, messy, sweet. "Chanyeol-I'm... I'm close-"

"Let go, baby. I've got you."

And I did. With a shaky moan, I came undone in his arms-my body trembling against his chest, mouth gasping against his neck as he whispered praises and held me tight.

Afterward, he didn't move. He just kissed my forehead and laid us back against the pillows,

arms wrapped around me like I was something precious.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

I nodded, breath still uneven. "Better than okay." He smiled into my hair. "You're everything." And in that moment sweaty, tangled in blankets, heart still racing | knew it was true.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4: Can’t wait

It started with a simple mall date.

Nothing crazy. Just bubble tea, some window shopping, his hand holding mine, his thumb brushing slow circles on my skin like it always did when he was feeling clingy. But ever since that night, something between us had changed.

He touched me like he knew what I sounded like when I moaned his name.

I kissed him like I remembered the way he tasted between my legs.

And we were both fighting it.

We made it through the arcade. The bookstore. The photo booth.

But when we got to the escalator empty, rising slowly to the top floor he stepped behind me, arms wrapped around my waist, chest flush against my back.

“Y/N…” he whispered against my ear. “You’re making me crazy today.”

I giggled. “What did I do?”

His lips grazed the shell of my ear. “You wore this tiny skirt on purpose. And you keep bending over like you want me to lose control.”

My breath caught.

He was hard. I could feel it press against me through his jeans.

“Someone could see,” I whispered, blushing.

“No one’s looking.” His hands slipped around my hips, fingers sneaking beneath the edge of my skirt, grazing the top of my thighs.

“Chanyeol—” I hissed, grabbing his wrist. “We’re in public ”

“I just want to touch,” he murmured. “Just a little.”

His fingers brushed over my inner thigh, higher, higher until they pressed against the fabric of my panties. I sucked in a breath.

“You’re already wet…” he whispered, voice husky. “Are you turned on? Out here?”

I looked around the top floor was practically empty. Just a few scattered couples. A closed store. Music echoing from the speakers above.

And something in me snapped.

I grabbed his hand and dragged him fast around the corner, to a tucked-away hallway near the staff elevator. It was dim, quiet, hidden.

I turned to him, grabbing his collar, yanking him into a kiss that was all tongue and heat and frustration.

His hands roamed under my skirt again, and I let him this time.

“You’re so fucking hot when you take charge,” he growled, lifting me easily and pressing me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist, gasping when he ground against me.

“Someone might hear—”

“Then be quiet for me,” he whispered, smirking.

I kissed him again, and his hand slipped between us pulling my panties to the side, two fingers sliding inside me so easily while his thumb circled my clit.

“Shit Chanyeol—”

“You’re dripping. You love this, don’t you? My filthy little girl.”

I clenched around his fingers, biting into his shoulder to keep from moaning out loud. His hand moved faster, rougher, hitting that sweet spot over and over until I was panting into his neck.

“Come for me,” he whispered. “Right here. Be my good girl”

My orgasm hit fast sharp and hot making me tremble in his arms as I bit back the cry threatening to escape.

I was still catching my breath when he gently set me down, tugged my panties back in place, and kissed me softly.

“That was so risky,” I breathed.

“And so worth it,” he smirked.

Then he leaned close to my ear.

“Next time… your mouth on me. Under the table. In public.”

My knees nearly buckled.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5: Ride me right

It was late.

The windows were fogging.

The city lights blurred past like slow-moving stars as Chanyeol drove us down the nearly empty road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh.

I was in his hoodie, legs bare, and that look was already in his eyes.

"You're being quiet," he murmured, glancing sideways.

That teasing smirk was already tugging at his lips.

"I'm thinking..." I said innocently.

He raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about?”

I slid my hand over his, guiding it higher on my thigh, under the hem of his hoodie. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

His breath caught.

“Y/N…” he warned.

I smiled. “Pull over.”

“What—here?”

The road was dark and mostly empty. A dead stretch between towns. Trees on either side. Not a soul in sight.

“Backseat,” I whispered. “Now.”

He practically slammed the brakes.

In seconds, we were climbing into the back. He barely closed the door before I straddled him, knees on either side of his thighs, lips crashing onto his.

“You’re insane,” he breathed into my mouth.

“You love it,” I smirked, grinding against him.

He groaned his hands gripping my bare ass under the hoodie, pulling me harder against the bulge in his jeans.

I kissed down his jaw, then lower, lips trailing across his neck, nipping at his collarbone as I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down just enough to free him.

God.

Even in the dim light, he looked huge. Thick. Red. Leaking at the tip already.

“You’ve been hard this whole time?” I teased, wrapping my hand around him.

He hissed. “What do you think your bare thighs do to me while I’m trying to focus on the damn road?”

I laughed softly, then sank down between his legs, licking up his length slowly, teasing the underside with the flat of my tongue. He threw his head back with a strangled sound.

“Shit… baby…”

I swirled my tongue around the tip, tasting him. Then I took him deeper, inch by inch, feeling his thighs tense under my hands. His fingers tangled in my hair as I bobbed my head, sucking harder with every pass.

The car started rocking slightly.

“You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he groaned, bucking up into my mouth.

I looked up at him with wide eyes as I took him deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat. He cursed under his breath, tightening his grip in my hair, hips stuttering.

“Fuck, Y/N—I'm gonna come where do you—”

I didn’t pull away.

I sucked harder.

He let out the filthiest moan, one hand slamming against the foggy window as he spilled into my mouth, hot and heavy, twitching between my lips.

I swallowed, slowly, eyes never leaving his.

When I finally pulled off, he was a panting mess sweaty, flushed, shirt wrinkled, hair wild.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, pulling me into his lap.

I licked my lips and kissed him sweetly. “Drive safe, baby.”

Alternate Scenario;

The sky was ink-black, only the red glow of taillights ahead and the soft hum of the engine filling the car. His playlist was low in the background slow R&B, bass pulsing like a heartbeat.

Chanyeol gripped the wheel with one hand. The other? On my bare thigh. Of course.

“I can’t concentrate with you like this,” he muttered, stealing a glance.

I had slid his hoodie halfway off my shoulder. No bra. No panties. Just his oversized shirt and sinful intentions.

“That’s not my fault,” I said sweetly, sliding my hand over the bulge pressing hard against his jeans. “You’re the one who keeps touching.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

I bit my lip. “Then pull over.”

His jaw clenched. “No. You started this?”

He flicked his eyes toward the dark highway ahead empty. Quiet.

Then back at me.

“Get on top.”

My eyes widened. “Right now? You’re driving—”

“Then better make it quick, baby. Before we hit town again.”

My heart slammed in my chest as I unbuckled my seatbelt, climbed over the center console, and straddled him, my knees squeezing into the driver’s seat sides.

He reached down, yanked his zipper down one-handed, and pulled himself out already so hard, flushed, pulsing against my thigh.

The second I sank down on him, we both gasped.

“Fuuuck, Y/N…” he growled, hands flying to my hips. “You’re so tight and wet. You love this, don’t you? Filthy girl, riding me while I’m driving—”

I gripped the back of the headrest, my hips rocking slowly. The stretch, the heat, the risk it all mixed into something overwhelming.

He kept his left hand on the steering wheel, eyes flicking between the road and the bounce of my body on his lap.

His other hand? Under my shirt. Gripping my breast. Thumbing my nipple hard while I moaned into his ear.

“You’re gonna make me crash,” he hissed. “Keep riding me like that and we’ll both die happy.”

“Then shut up and watch the road,” I panted, hips speeding up.

I leaned in, kissed him hard, all tongue and moaning and heat as I bounced on his cock, the wet slap of skin filling the space between music and tire hum.

He thrust up into me from underneath, reckless and rough, the seat creaking beneath us.

“Chanyeol I’m close—”

“Come for me, baby,” he growled, fingers digging into my ass. “Right here. While I drive. Let them all see you coming on my cock.”

That filthy whisper wrecked me.

My orgasm hit like a wave, body clenching, vision going white as I moaned his name, over and over, shaking in his lap.

He swore under his breath, slammed one final thrust up into me, and came with a grunt hot, thick, buried deep.

We both stilled.

The car was still moving.

We were a mess.

Sweaty. Out of breath. My body limp against his, thighs still trembling. He finally slowed the car to a stop on the side of the road, breathing hard, forehead against mine.

“You’re insane,” he whispered. “And I’m obsessed with you.”

I giggled, nuzzling against him. “You started it.”

He kissed me once, lazy and deep.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured. “Even behind the wheel.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6: Slow nights

My bedroom was quiet except for the soft hum of music playing from my speaker one of his chill playlists. The lights were low, the moonlight casting a soft glow through my window. He was lying next to me, eyes heavy, lips parted, hand already tracing slow circles on my thigh.

“Y/N…” he whispered, voice deep and a little shaky, “Can I… tonight… with you?”

I stared at him, breath caught, heart pounding. I knew what he meant. The question was so simple, but the meaning behind it intense. Intimate. Real.

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I want to.”

His lips parted in surprise, like he hadn’t expected a yes. But then he exhaled, and something shifted in his eyes need, yes, but also affection. Reverence.

“Are you sure?”

I cupped his face gently, smiling. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He kissed me then. Long. Deep. Sweet. Like he was memorizing the shape of my lips. He climbed over me, chest pressing to mine as our legs tangled, his body warm and strong above me.

I pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest, the soft curve of his waist. I ran my fingers over his skin, and he shivered, groaning low against my neck.

“God… you drive me crazy,” he whispered.

I arched up, letting him take my shirt off, and this time, I didn’t hide. I let him look. And the way his hands trembled as he touched me made me ache.

His lips trailed down from my mouth to my collarbone, to my breasts. He took his time, kissing, licking, sucking gently as he rolled my nipple between his fingers, making me moan softly.

Then his hands slid lower.

He tugged at my shorts and panties together, his eyes locked on mine the whole time, silently asking for permission.

I nodded. “All of it. Please…”

He slipped them off, his lips brushing my inner thigh as he settled between my legs. His mouth moved lower and I gasped when his tongue met my heat soft, slow, exploratory. He was eager, messy, a little clumsy but so hungry.

“You taste amazing…” he murmured against me.

I moaned, fingers tangled in his hair as he licked and sucked, building me up until I was shaking. I came against his mouth, hips bucking, breath shattered.

He kissed his way back up to me, lips glossy, eyes heavy with lust.

“Do you want me now?” he asked, voice raw.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Chanyeol… I want to feel you.”

He reached for his wallet, pulling out a condom, and I watched his hands as he unzipped his jeans. My breath caught when he pulled them down, his boxers following and then I really saw him.

Long. Thick. Flushed and hard.

“Will it hurt?” I whispered.

“I’ll be slow,” he said. “So slow, baby. I’ll stop if you need me to.”

I nodded. “Just… be close to me, okay?”

He kissed me deeply as he slid the condom on, lined himself up, and slowly so slowly began to push inside.

I gasped.

He froze. “Too much?”

I shook my head, clinging to him. “No just… give me a second.”

He waited, kissing my cheek, stroking my hair, whispering, “You’re doing so good… so tight around me, fuck…”

Then he moved again, inch by inch, until he was fully inside.

Our foreheads touched, our breaths mixed, and for a moment there was only heat, closeness, and the sound of our racing hearts.

Then he began to move.

Slow thrusts. Deep. Sensual. Grinding into me like he wanted me to feel every inch.

I wrapped my legs around him, moaning as pleasure bloomed and spread, raw and beautiful.

“Y/N…” he panted. “You feel so fucking good…”

His hips rolled, hitting that perfect spot, and I gasped his name again and again, arching into him. Our bodies moved like we were made for each other, every thrust building something bigger, higher.

He kissed me, harder now, thrusts deeper, faster. I was moaning into his mouth, eyes fluttering.

“I’m close,” I whispered. “So close—”

“Me too,” he groaned. “Let go, baby. Come with me.”

And when I did it was like the world melted. Heat surged through me as my walls clenched around him, and with a broken moan, he followed, hips stuttering as he released into the condom.

He collapsed on top of me, both of us a sweaty, breathless mess. I held him tight. He buried his face in my neck, still trembling.

After a long silence, he whispered, “You okay?”

I smiled, kissing the side of his face. “More than okay.”

He chuckled softly. “That was… everything.”

“It was ours,” I whispered.

And in that messy, tangled moment, I knew

Nothing would ever compare to the times I gave all of me to him.

[loeyshine]

The Girl at the Crosswalk

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: strangers to lovers, student and idol au, sexy love, age-gap mentions. “I just never meant to be intrigued by you”.

Description: A forbidden spark ignites between a rising artist and a K-pop idol, where music, age, and secrets collide unraveling a magnetic, tender chaos neither of them expected… nor can escape.

Playlist: beautiful soul — jesse mccartney

Chapter 1:

Chanyeol POV

It was a regular morning.

Or at least, it should have been.

I was late again thanks to my alarm being a complete traitor. My manager had already texted three times, each one with increasing levels of passive aggression. I shoved my phone into my pocket and jogged toward the streetlight, hoodie pulled up, cap low, just another guy in the crowd.

Then I saw her.

Standing on the other side of the crosswalk.

A school uniform. Short skirt, loose tie, the top button undone in that careless way most high schoolers wore it. Her hair was tossed over one shoulder, glinting under the early sunlight like it had been kissed by gold.

She looked… young. Maybe too young. But she wasn’t a kid not quite. There was something different in the way she carried herself. Confident but detached. Like she was in her own world.

I couldn’t stop staring.

She didn’t even see me. Not even a glance.

She was chewing gum, headphones in, staring blankly ahead. Like she didn’t care about anything. Not the rush of people. Not the heat. Not the guy three feet across the street who couldn’t stop looking at her like some lovesick fool.

God, was I the creep right now?

The light turned green. She walked across like she owned the pavement. Her skirt swayed slightly with each step, shoes tapping against the concrete in a rhythm I somehow remembered even after she passed me by.

I turned around. Just for a second.

She didn’t look back.

Didn’t even know I was there.

What was that?

A second of eye contact would’ve meant nothing. Just a flicker. But it didn’t happen. And somehow that made it worse. She passed through my day like a comet fast, bright, unreachable.

And maybe a little dangerous.

She must’ve been years younger than me. And yet, my heart was beating like I was the one who just got caught sneaking out of class.

I stood there too long. My phone buzzed again. My manager was going to kill me.

But I kept thinking:

Who the hell was she?

And why did it feel like I just saw something someone I wasn’t supposed to?

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2:

A week passed. Maybe more.

I kept telling myself it didn’t matter.

She was just a girl. A pretty stranger in a school uniform. It wasn’t like I was going to see her again. Seoul was huge. People come and go. She was probably just passing through. Some high schooler late for cram school, maybe on a school trip.

But she stayed in my head.

The flash of her hair. The nonchalant way she walked. That gum-popping attitude.

She haunted my morning thoughts. Like a song I heard once but couldn’t find again.

And then…

There she was.

Same street. Same damn crosswalk. But this time, I wasn’t rushing.

I saw her before she even noticed the light had changed.

She was standing outside a convenience store. School uniform again this time with a hoodie over it, zipped halfway up. Same white headphones. She was sipping on a strawberry milk and scrolling through her phone like the world didn’t exist.

My heart did that stupid thing again.

Thud.

I should’ve walked past. Should’ve kept going. But I slowed down, sunglasses on, pretending to check my phone as I neared her.

She glanced up.

Just for a second.

Eyes.

Locked.

Oh, shit.

They were sharp. Big. Curious. She blinked at me like I was vaguely familiar maybe someone she saw on TV once but couldn’t place. Then, just like that, she looked away.

No reaction.

I don’t know why I felt disappointed.

But I didn’t move. I stood near the rack of magazines outside the store, pretending to look at some celebrity gossip I was actually *in* last week. My ears were hot. I could feel the thump of my own pulse under my cap.

She was closer than last time. I could smell her shampoo. Something soft vanilla maybe. Something too innocent for how bold she looked.

Then, she said it.

“Are you staring at me?”

Her voice. Low. Unbothered.

I looked up, startled.

She was still looking at her phone. Not even smiling. Just chewing on her straw and watching me through her lashes.

Busted.

“N-No,” I muttered, pushing my cap lower. “Just… looking at the magazine.”

“Mm.” She nodded, unconvinced. “Creepy.”

And just like that, she turned and walked off.

Leaving me frozen, heart in my throat, looking like a complete idiot next to my own face on a tabloid cover.

Who was this girl?

And why the hell was I hoping I’d see her again?

Y/N POV

I wasn’t late today. For once.

My morning classes were hell, but I survived. Barely. I was starving, my backpack felt like a brick, and my AirPods were almost dead but it was fine. I had strawberry milk and five minutes of peace before I caught the bus.

I leaned against the wall outside the convenience store, hoodie thrown over my uniform, sipping slowly. The city buzzed around me. Cars, footsteps, people shouting into their phones. Seoul never shut up.

And then I felt it.

You know that weird prickling feeling when someone’s staring at you? Not casually. Like… really staring?

I glanced up.

Tall guy. Hoodie. Cap. Sunglasses.

He looked familiar sort of. One of those faces you swear you’ve seen before but can’t name. I looked back down at my phone, pretending not to care.

But he was still there.

Still not moving. Still pretending to look at a stack of magazines like it was his life’s purpose.

I wasn’t stupid. I’d had guys stare before. Some harmless. Some annoying. He didn’t feel dangerous… just awkward.

I pulled out my gum, popped it in my mouth, then without looking up, asked the obvious.

“Are you staring at me?”

There was a beat of silence. Then

“N-No… Just… looking at the magazine.”

Liar.

I almost smiled. Almost. But I didn’t give him the satisfaction. I sipped my milk and said flatly, “Creepy.”

Then I turned and walked away.

I didn’t even bother to check if he was still standing there. Probably was. Guys like that don’t know how to play it cool.

But for some reason… my heart was beating a little faster than usual.

Weird.

I blew a bubble with my gum and glanced over my shoulder as I crossed the street.

He was still there.

Frozen.

Still pretending to read a magazine.

And that’s when I noticed it. The cover.

His face.

Wait…

Was that really him?

Park. Freaking. Chanyeol?

I blinked, then laughed under my breath.

No way.

Too tall. Too awkward. Too normal in person.

But still…

I kind of hoped I’d see him again.

Not because he was hot.

(Okay, maybe a little.)

But because for once… someone was looking at me like I wasn’t just another girl in a uniform.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3:

“So… you’re telling me a tall, hoodie-wearing creep was staring at you in broad daylight?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Ugh. Shut up.”

My best friend let’s call her Jade, because her mouth is sharp and her eyes see everything raised an eyebrow as we sat at the edge of the school rooftop, lunchboxes opened but barely touched.

She popped a cherry tomato into her mouth and looked at me like I’d just told her I saw a ghost.

I groaned. “It’s not that serious. He was just standing there. I caught him staring, called him out, and left. The end.”

Jade leaned in, grinning. “Called him out how?”

I mimicked sipping from a straw. “I said, ‘Are you staring at me?’ He choked. Denied it. Classic loser behavior.”

“And then?”

“I said, ‘Creepy,’ and walked away.”

She burst out laughing, nearly choking on her rice. “Y/N! You savage.”

I smirked and shrugged, trying to play it cool. But inside? My brain was still rewinding the moment. The awkward pause. His voice. His face. His stupid tall shadow. His scent kind of clean and warm, like cologne mixed with cold air.

I didn’t tell her the real part.

That I recognized him.

Park Chanyeol. EXO. My old crush, my not-so-secret obsession in middle school. His face was on every poster in my bedroom before I decided to grow up. Before I decided idols weren’t real.

But now?

Real. Too real. In front of a convenience store, staring at me like I wasn’t just another uniformed girl in a sea of white shirts and black skirts.

“So,” Jade said, poking my side with her chopsticks, “was he ugly or hot?”

I choked on my water. “What?”

“Well, if you call a guy ‘creepy’ but don’t look scared, he was probably hot. Admit it.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, turning away.

“Oh my god, he was hot. You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

I covered my face with both hands. “Jade. Please. He was just… some random guy. It’s not like I’ll see him again.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, clearly not believing a word.

She leaned back, squinting up at the sun. “You’ve been weird all day. Who knows, maybe it was someone famous.”

I blinked. Heart stuttering.

She was close.

Too close.

But I kept my mouth shut.

Let her guess. Let her tease.

Let her think he was just a nameless, hot stranger who stared too long.

Because if I told her it was Chanyeol…

I’d never hear the end of it.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4:

POV: Park Chanyeol

I was supposed to meet someone at the gallery annex.

Keyword: supposed to.

SM was hosting a small private art showcase one of those “support young talent” initiatives they like to slap our names on. I was half an hour early, killing time with an iced Americano in one hand and my phone in the other, scrolling without really seeing anything.

And then I looked up.

And time stopped.

She was there.

She was there.

But she didn’t look like her.

She wasn’t wearing a school uniform. No blazer, no skirt, no stiff-collared shirt.

She wasn’t chewing gum or staring blankly at the sky.

She was moving.

Breathing.

Focused.

In a tight black sleeveless top that hugged her waist and showed off her collarbones. Loose black shorts. Legs long and golden. Her hair tied up in a messy ponytail, strands falling around her face as she stood in front of a giant canvas, brush in hand.

Paint streaked her fingers.

Her lips were slightly parted.

And her eyes damn they were alive.

Focused on whatever she was painting. Lips moving like she was humming something under her breath.

She hadn’t seen me yet.

And I wasn’t breathing.

I leaned against the edge of the glass wall, half-hidden behind a pillar, trying to play it casual. But my pulse was going insane. My hands suddenly felt too big, too clumsy, and I couldn’t stop staring.

She looked older now.

Or maybe… she always looked like this and I just didn’t notice.

Hot.

Careless.

Dangerous in that effortless, don’t-give-a-damn kind of way.

The kind of girl who doesn’t try to be sexy she just is.

I swallowed hard.

And that’s when she turned.

Hair swinging, a paintbrush still in one hand, eyes blinking straight into mine.

My stomach dropped.

She froze. I froze.

Recognition flickered.

And then she smirked like she knew exactly who I was.

No gum this time.

No headphones.

Just that confident, head-tilted, I-saw-you-looking-again expression that made my mouth go dry.

She didn’t say anything.

Just turned back to her canvas and kept painting.

Cool. Effortless. Like I hadn’t just been wrecked for the second time.

I looked down, jaw clenched, trying to steady my breath.

Okay.

What the hell was happening to me?

I could’ve walked away.

I should’ve. My brain said: turn around, be smart, you’re too old for this and she’s clearly out of your league.

But my feet? They had other plans.

Before I even realized it, I was walking toward her.

Slowly.

Like if I got too close too fast, she’d vanish.

She was still painting bold red streaks across a half-finished canvas. I couldn’t even tell what it was. Maybe I didn’t care. My eyes weren’t really on the art.

They were on the way her black top clung to her waist when she stretched. On the way a single drop of sweat slid down the side of her neck.

She didn’t look at me. Not even when I stopped just a few feet behind her.

So I cleared my throat.

Lame.

She didn’t turn. Just said, “You again.”

Her voice was teasing. Daring.

Like she expected me to trip over myself just trying to talk to her.

And I almost did.

I laughed under my breath. “You’ve been haunting my schedule.”

She finally glanced over her shoulder lips curved, eyebrow raised.

“You call creeping around outside convenience stores and art studios a ‘schedule’?”

Ouch.

I scratched the back of my neck, flustered. “Technically, this time I was invited.”

“Technically,” she mimicked, brushing a streak of paint off her arm. “Still staring.”

“I’m just admiring the… work.”

“Mm.” Her eyes slid back to her canvas. “You mean my work, or what I’m wearing while I’m doing it?”

Busted.

Again.

I smiled slow and lazy then took a small step closer. Just enough for her to feel the shift.

“That outfit’s not helping me focus, if I’m being honest.”

That made her laugh a soft, low sound that went straight to my bloodstream.

She dipped her brush in black paint, dragged it across the canvas, then looked back at me this time full-on.

“Flirting with high school girls now?”

I froze.

Shit.

“Wait Are you still in ?”

She cut me off with a shake of her head. “Graduated last month.”

My breath came out in relief. “Oh thank God. I was about to handcuff myself.”

She smirked. “You’re not off the hook. You did follow me twice.”

“Coincidentally,” I said, holding up my hands. “Totally unplanned. Universe’s fault.”

“Sure,” she said. “So what now, universe boy?”

I stepped in again close enough to smell her vanilla shampoo and faint traces of turpentine.

“I think the universe wants your number.”

She raised a brow. “The universe or you?”

“…Me.”

Her eyes flicked down to my mouth and back up.

Then she smiled.

Not soft. Not shy.

But dangerous.

“Say please.”

I exhaled a quiet laugh, heart hammering in my chest.

“Please.”

And just like that, she reached for my phone and typed it in herself.

Saved her name as “Creepy Girl 🎨”.

I bit my lip. “That’s not fair. I’m the one who was called creepy first.”

She handed me my phone, eyes sparkling. “Exactly.”

Then she turned back to her canvas like I hadn’t just completely melted inside my hoodie.

Damn.

I was so screwed.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5:

11:42 p.m.

I should’ve been asleep.

But there she was her name lighting up my phone like a fuse waiting to go off.

Creepy Girl 🎨:

Was that you on that billboard in Gangnam? Because the guy looked familiar. And hot. But mostly familiar.

I grinned at my screen, lying on my back, arm slung over my forehead. Shirtless. Too warm. Too awake.

I typed back:

Me.

Depends. Was he tall, charming, and helplessly obsessed with an art girl in black shorts?

Read.

Typing…

Creepy Girl 🎨:

No, I think he looked like he’d fall in love if she so much as tied her hair up again.

I blinked, heart stuttering.

She knew what she was doing.

I sat up, cracking my knuckles, suddenly very, very alert.

Me:

You tying it up now just to mess with me?

Creepy Girl 🎨:

Would you behave if I said yes?

I laughed low and wrecked and let my thumb hover over the keyboard for a moment before replying.

Me:

Absolutely not.

The three dots danced again. Stopped.

Started.

Creepy Girl 🎨:

I was painting again tonight. Still wearing that same black top. But no shorts this time.It’s hot.

My throat went dry.

Me:

Y/N…

She replied instantly.

Creepy Girl 🎨:

What? You’re the one who started this.

Me:

And I’ll finish it. But in person.

Pause.

No reply. For a moment, I thought I crossed a line.

Then

**Creepy Girl 🎨**:

Then come see the painting tomorrow. I’ll be wearing something hotter. Maybe nothing at all.

My jaw clenched. I stared at the screen like it might catch fire in my hand.

Me:

You’re gonna kill me.

Creepy Girl 🎨:

Then die like a man. I’ll leave the studio door unlocked.

I dropped the phone onto my chest and dragged a hand over my face, completely and utterly undone.

This girl wasn’t just messing with me.

She was devouring me.

And God help me

I liked it.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6:

I told myself not to come.

I told myself this was a bad idea.

But the second she said “I’ll leave the door unlocked,” I was already figuring out what time to get there.

2:47 p.m.

Quiet. Warm. The small private studio was tucked at the far end of the building, behind frosted glass and white brick. I’d been here once before for some promotional shoot but now it felt completely different.

Now it was hers.

The door was, in fact, unlocked.

And when I pushed it open, I almost forgot how to breathe.

She was standing with her back to me.

Messy ponytail again. Paintbrush in hand.

Wearing a loose white men’s shirt thin, sheer in the sunlight, the bottom barely skimming the tops of her thighs. No pants. No shorts. Just… long legs, bare skin, and danger.

She was humming something under her breath, completely lost in whatever she was creating on the canvas in front of her.

I shut the door behind me. Soft.

But she heard it anyway.

Without turning around, she said, “You came.”

I swallowed. Hard.

“I said I would.”

“Didn’t think you’d be brave enough to walk in.”

“I’m more scared of not seeing you again.”

That made her turn.

Slow. Deliberate. Like she already knew what she was doing to me.

The front of the shirt was barely buttoned. A deep V. Hints of skin. A sliver of a black bra strap slipping off her shoulder. Bare thighs. Paint smudged across her hand. A teasing little smile.

“Still think this is just a coincidence, Chanyeol?”

“No,” I breathed, stepping closer. “This is a setup.”

“You walked into it willingly.”

I nodded, eyes locked on her mouth. “You’re dangerous.”

“You’re slow,” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting for you to touch me since that first night.”

That did it.

I moved.

One hand on the small of her back. The other gripping the edge of that damn shirt, tugging her against me. She gasped not afraid, not hesitant just breathless, like she’d been holding it in too long.

Her body melted into mine like she fit. My mouth hovered just above hers.

“Tell me to stop,” I said.

She shook her head. “I’d rather tell you where to touch.”

Fuck.

I pressed her against the wall gently, but with intent. Our lips so close they shared breath, but didn’t meet yet. I wanted her to feel it the ache, the pull, the gravity.

“You paint like this every day?” I rasped, eyes dragging down her exposed skin.

“Only when I want someone to watch.”

“You knew I’d come.”

She smiled. “You’re predictable.”

“And you’re cruel.”

She leaned up lips grazing mine. Barely. A whisper. “Then do something about it.”

My hand slid down the curve of her waist, fingers tracing the hem of the shirt, slipping just under, onto bare skin. She arched against me, soft, warm, and maddening.

And just before I kissed her

She whispered, “Close the blinds.”

I grinned.

“I plan to.”

I closed the blinds slowly. Not because I was unsure but because I wanted to draw this out.

To feel her eyes on me while I did it.

To hear the shift in her breath when the last sliver of sunlight disappeared and we were left in soft, golden shadows and silence.

She didn’t move.

Still leaning against the wall, shirt clinging to her like temptation itself, hair falling loose around her shoulders now.

Watching me like I was her next painting or maybe the mess she wanted to make.

When I turned back, she was biting her lip.

“You look nervous,” she teased.

“Not nervous.” My voice was lower now. Rough. “Just trying to make sure I remember this.”

“Why?”

“In case you don’t let me do it again.”

She smiled slow and sinful. “Oh, you’re doing it again.”

I crossed the room in two strides and kissed her like I meant it.

Because I did.

Our mouths collided, and it was fire. Not soft. Not sweet. Desperate. Raw. All that built-up tension crashing like a wave. Her hands fisted in my hoodie, pulling me closer. Mine slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, palms gliding over the warm skin of her waist, her back, her hips.

She gasped into the kiss as I lifted her slightly, pinning her gently against the wall with my body. Her legs wrapped around me without hesitation, bare skin grazing my jeans, igniting every nerve.

Her lips broke from mine just enough to breathe against my ear.

“I’m not as fragile as I look, Chanyeol.”

“I figured that out the second you said ‘Say please.’”

She laughed a low, wicked sound and tugged the hoodie over my head, her fingers dragging down my chest like she’d been waiting to touch me.

“You’re hotter in person,” she whispered.

I slid the shirt off one shoulder, then the other, until it fell open completely. My hands roamed over her back, memorizing the way her body curved, the way she arched into me when my lips traced the side of her neck.

“You sure you’re not dreaming?” I murmured against her skin.

“If I was, I wouldn’t be wearing this much.”

Challenge accepted.

The shirt slipped to the floor. She was in a black bra, barely there, delicate and completely unfair. My hands found her thighs, parted them, touched up and in and closer until her head tipped back against the wall and she moaned my name soft, breathless, unfiltered.

My name.

From her lips.

Like that.

I was wrecked.

She pulled me down onto the floor with her, bodies tangled on the studio’s paint-stained rug, kissing between gasps, touches turning rougher, slower, needier.

And when her hand reached for the button on my jeans, I caught her wrist and met her eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” I said. “Out loud.”

She didn’t even blink.

“I want you,” she whispered. “Right here. Right now. I want you to stop holding back.”

That was it.

Whatever control I had left? Gone.

The second she said, "I want you," something inside me snapped.

She lay beneath me now, warm and wild, skin flushed and eyes daring me to keep going. Her fingers pulled at my waistband while her legs locked around me, holding me there like she couldn’t stand the idea of even an inch between us.

“Y/N,” I murmured against her throat. “Say it again.”

Her voice was breathy, raw. “I want you.”

I kissed her jaw. Her neck. Down the soft skin of her collarbone. Her body arched under me like instinct, back lifting, chest rising into my mouth as I tasted along the swell of her bra slow and purposeful, letting her feel every second.

She whimpered. One hand tangled in my hair, the other sliding down my bare back, nails dragging.

“You’re killing me,” she whispered.

“Good,” I growled, my voice rougher now, shaking with restraint. “You’ve been killing me since day one.”

Clothes disappeared between gasps and fumbling hands. The shirt she wore, tossed aside. My jeans, undone and gone. Every touch was electric her skin under my hands, the way her breath hitched when I kissed lower, the way she trembled when I pressed against her with nothing left between us.

She was so soft. So warm. Every part of her inviting me closer, deeper.

Our eyes met.

No teasing now.

Just heat. Need. Honesty.

“You still sure?” I asked, fingers tracing her hip.

She nodded once, serious now. “Please.”

It was the same word from the first day but this time, it wasn’t a game. This time, it was real.

I slid into her slowly, carefully, and her gasp broke into a moan that shot straight through me. Her arms clung to my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin as her head fell back, lips parted.

“God, Chanyeol—”

I kissed her to swallow her cry, moving with her, building a rhythm, every thrust deeper, every sound louder.

The studio filled with her moans, my gritted breaths, the soft creak of the floor beneath us. Her paint-stained hands on my back, my mouth on every inch of her skin.

She whispered my name like a secret, over and over again, until it wasn’t a word just a plea.

We lost track of time.

Just skin and heat and breath.

And the way she said, “Don’t stop.”

I didn’t.

Not until she cried out beneath me, her body arching, trembling, tightening. I followed, burying my face in her neck, arms wrapped around her, completely undone.

When it was over, we stayed there tangled, sweaty, breathless.

She was still beneath me, chest rising fast, cheeks flushed.

I brushed hair off her forehead and pressed a kiss there. She didn’t speak.

Neither did I.

Because whatever that just was…

It wasn’t just physical.

It wasn’t just tension.

It was something else.

And it scared the hell out of me.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7:

His breath was still warm against my neck.

His chest pressed to mine, heartbeat frantic like mine. His arm stayed wrapped around me even though the heat was starting to settle into a softer kind of warmth.

It was quiet now.

No teasing.

No tension.

Just the sound of our breathing and my fingers slowly tracing circles on his bare back.

We didn’t speak.

He didn’t move.

I could feel his hesitation not regret, not guilt but that very specific kind of stillness that comes after everything changes.

Because it had changed.

I felt it in the way he kissed me.

Not just hungry. Not just hot.

But careful. Like he didn’t want to mess it up.

He shifted slightly and rested his forehead against mine. Eyes still closed.

“You okay?” he murmured.

I nodded. “More than okay.”

He finally opened his eyes dark and soft, lips pink from kissing, hair messy from my hands.

“I should say something,” he said, voice husky.

“You don’t have to.”

“No,” he whispered. “I want to.”

He sat up a little, brushing his fingers down my arm. We were still a mess tangled limbs, clothes scattered across the paint-splattered floor, the scent of oil paint and skin clinging to the air.

“I didn’t think this would happen,” he admitted.

“Because you didn’t plan to show up?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d want me.”

That made me sit up too. The blanket we'd pulled over ourselves slipped down my shoulders, but I didn’t bother covering up. Not in front of him. Not after what we’d just done.

“I noticed you from the very first day,” I said quietly. “But you didn’t say anything.”

He gave a guilty half-smile. “I was staring. Like a creep.”

“Yeah,” I teased, leaning in closer. “You were.”

He caught my waist and pulled me into his lap again, skin to skin. My heart stuttered a little, but I let him. I liked how big his hands felt on my body. How gentle his eyes were, even after everything we’d just done.

“So what now?” I asked.

Chanyeol’s fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“Now,” he said softly, “I take you on a date.”

I blinked. “You want to go backward after all this?”

He laughed, low and warm, and leaned his forehead against mine again.

“I want everything. The backwards. The forwards. The in-betweens. I want to paint you breakfast. I want to show you my demo tracks. I want to kiss you without walls around us.”

That shut me up.

My chest tightened not in fear, but something way more dangerous.

Hope.

“You sound serious,” I whispered.

“I am.”

I looked at him. Really looked.

And in that quiet moment, I realized I was already in trouble.

Because Park Chanyeol wasn’t just hot.

He wasn’t just the guy who kissed like fire.

He was the one who saw me, even when I wasn’t trying to be seen.

And he was looking at me like he wasn’t going anywhere.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8:

POV: Y/N

I hadn’t been this nervous to pick out an outfit in… ever.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t just been naked with him, body-to-body on a studio floor, whispering things that made my skin heat up even now.

But this was different.

This was a date.

And that meant I had to pretend to be normal around a man who made breathing feel optional.

I settled on something simple black jeans that hugged my hips, a soft, fitted top with an open back, and sneakers that didn’t scream trying too hard.

My phone buzzed.

Chanyeol

I’m outside. Also, I’m trying to play it cool but I’ve been parked for 6 minutes just staring at my steering wheel like a loser. Help.

I smiled. My cheeks already hurt.

I grabbed my bag and headed out.

Sure enough, there he was leaning against the hood of a sleek black car, ripped jeans, white tee under an open flannel, hair styled perfectly messy. Tall, broad, and slightly fidgety. When he saw me, he straightened immediately, biting back a grin.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I was choosing between looking hot or breathable. You’re welcome.”

“I vote both.” He opened the passenger door for me like a goddamn gentleman. “Buckle up, heartbreaker.”

The drive was calm. Music low. Windows down.

He took me to a tucked-away rooftop café with twinkling string lights and a view of the Han River. Not too crowded, not too exposed. The kind of place you could forget the world existed.

We sat across from each other, knees brushing under the table.

The conversation flowed easier than I expected.

We talked about everything how he got into music, how I fell in love with painting, our weirdest habits (he sleeps with socks on sometimes, which I judged harshly), our favorite snacks (we both had a secret addiction to spicy ramen at midnight).

But it wasn’t just the talking.

It was the way he kept looking at me.

Like I was art.

Like he still couldn’t believe I was real.

And every time I caught him doing it, he didn’t look away. He just smiled, slow and smug, until I had to hide behind my iced latte to cool down.

“Why are you staring?” I asked once, halfway through dinner.

“I’m memorizing,” he said, no hesitation.

I blinked. “That’s illegal.”

He laughed. “Good. Arrest me.”

Later, we wandered down to the riverwalk. The night was breezy, calm, Seoul glittering behind us. Chanyeol reached for my hand hesitant at first but when I laced my fingers with his, he squeezed gently like he didn’t want to let go.

We stopped near a quiet railing. The water reflected the stars, and his shoulder brushed mine when he turned to look at me.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, low.

“You already have,” I whispered.

“This one’s different.”

And it was.

Soft. Slow. Like a promise.

My hands curled into the front of his shirt, his fingers brushed along my jaw. The kiss was gentle, but it stole every ounce of breath from my lungs.

We pulled back eventually. Just barely.

“I’m screwed, huh?” I murmured, resting my forehead against his.

He chuckled. “So am I.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 9:

We sat side by side on the edge of the riverwalk, our feet dangling over the concrete, heads tilted toward the city lights. It was quiet. A few cars in the distance, the soft splash of water below.

The kind of night where everything feels slower. Softer. Honest.

Chanyeol leaned back on his hands, fingers brushing mine every now and then, like he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried.

“So,” he said, glancing over. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

I thought for a moment. “Like… fun fact or lifelong trauma?”

“Either,” he grinned. “Dealer’s choice.”

I smirked. “Okay. First kiss?”

He groaned dramatically. “We’re starting there?”

“C’mon. You first.”

He sighed, eyes squinting up at the sky like it held the memory. “Seventh grade. Behind the school gym. She had gum in her mouth. I panicked and swallowed it.”

I laughed so hard I nearly choked. “You didn’t.”

“I did. I thought I was gonna die. I walked around for an hour convinced it would block my stomach forever.”

I grinned. “You poor idiot.”

“Your turn.”

I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Mine was… quieter. First year of high school. We were both too shy to say anything, so we just sort of… leaned in. No gum. Just chapstick.”

He smiled at that. A soft, real one.

“First relationship?” I asked.

“Training years,” he said. “Hard to balance anything when your schedule belongs to someone else. I dated one girl seriously, but it faded out. We were both too busy pretending to be fine.”

I nodded. I understood that too well.

“I had a boyfriend for two years,” I said. “We started dating when I was sixteen. He was older.”

“How much older?”

I hesitated, then laughed. “Not as much older as you.”

He blinked. “Wait, how old are you?”

I gave him a wicked little smile. “Guess.”

He studied me, biting his lip.

“Twenty-two?”

“Wrong.”

“Twenty-one?”

I shook my head.

“Y/N—”

“Nineteen.”

His eyes widened. “You’re What?”

“Relax,” I said, chuckling. “I’m legal. Barely. But legal.”

He covered his face with both hands. “Oh my God. I’m going to hell.”

I bumped his shoulder. “You already kissed me. Slept with me. There’s no backing out now.”

He groaned. “I feel so much older.”

“How old are you again?”

“...Twenty-Six.”

I raised a brow. “7 years.”

“Exactly ten,” he said. “This is illegal in some K-dramas.”

I snorted. “Well, good thing this isn’t one.”

He looked at me, eyes serious now. “Does that… bother you?”

I shook my head. “Not even a little.”

Because it didn’t.

He didn’t *feel* ten years older not in any of the ways that mattered. We talked the same, laughed at the same weird stuff, shared the same obsession with music and art and late-night convenience store snacks.

“So,” he said, after a beat. “What did you study in school?”

“I’m still doing it,” I smiled. “I’m majoring in Fine Arts. I want to illustrate and paint full-time someday.”

“Obviously. You’re insanely talented.”

I gave him a little look. “You’ve only seen half a painting and me in a shirt that barely covers anything.”

“And it was the best art I’ve ever seen.”

I nudged him with my elbow.

“What about family?” he asked, more carefully now. “You close with yours?”

I nodded slowly. “Very. My mom used to be a runway model. Like, seriously stunning. She walked in Paris before I was born.”

He looked me over. “So that’s where you got it from.”

I blushed. “My dad’s the more chill one. He’s the reason I learned to drive at sixteen. He taught me how to handle the wheel before I could reach the pedals.”

Chanyeol whistled. “Impressive. What do you drive?”

“Don’t laugh,” I warned. “But I’m obsessed with cars. Like… obsessed.”

He laughed. “Wait really?”

I nodded. “I like engines. And going fast. It’s a problem.”

“You’re literally cooler than everyone I’ve ever dated.”

I grinned. “You haven’t even heard me play guitar yet.”

He froze. “You play?”

I nodded. “Acoustic mostly. Started when I was twelve. My dad had this old beat-up Takamine that became mine.”

Chanyeol looked at me like I’d just told him I had superpowers. “You. Paint. Drive fast. Play guitar. And you look like that.”

I tilted my head. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s a threat.”

We both laughed, but it faded slowly, the silence that followed more comfortable than empty. The kind of silence that came after knowing someone just a little too well, too fast.

“You forgot one thing,” he said after a while.

“What?”

“Your favorite color.”

I smiled. “Blue.”

He nodded. “Same.”

And maybe it was the night air, or the river, or the warmth of his hand that found mine again…

But in that moment, I realized I wasn’t just falling for him.

I was already halfway there.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 10:

The invitation came the next night, after midnight.

Chanyeol

I can’t sleep. Wanna come to the studio? It’s quiet. Just us. Bring your guitar.

I stared at the message for a moment, then grabbed my case and my hoodie, heart thudding in my chest.

SM’s private studio floor felt like a dream empty corridors, soundproofed doors, and the faint scent of coffee and music cables. He met me by the elevator, hoodie pulled over his messy hair, smile soft.

“You really came,” he said.

“You really asked.”

He reached for my guitar case without hesitation, slinging it over his shoulder with practiced ease. “This thing’s heavier than it looks. What, is it made of oak and magic?”

“Something like that,” I smiled.

He led me into a studio tucked in the corner not too big, but warm, with glowing orange light from the floor lamps and scattered sound panels lining the walls. One mic stood in the center, surrounded by guitars and keyboards and a couch with a half-eaten bag of chips on the armrest.

“This is where the good stuff happens,” he said, setting my case down gently. “Where I mess up melodies at 3 a.m. and try to pretend it’s intentional.”

I laughed, pulling my guitar out and settling on the couch.

He took a seat beside me, close but not too close. Just enough that our knees brushed.

“I’ve been writing something,” he said. “But I didn’t like it until I imagined your voice in it.”

That sentence alone made my chest tighten.

He picked up a pad, scribbled a few chords, then handed it to me.

I looked it over. Soft fingerpicking. Key of D. Lyrics about open windows, breathing someone in, and feeling understood without words.

“This is beautiful,” I whispered.

“You haven’t even heard it yet.”

“I don’t need to.”

We started slow.

I played first, fingers finding the rhythm like second nature. He joined in after a beat, harmonizing with me like we’d done this a hundred times. Our voices met in the middle his low, smooth, grounded; mine soft, rising, like light through a curtain.

By the second verse, we weren’t reading the sheet anymore.

We were looking at each other.

Smiling at the same spots.

Laughing through a missed note.

At one point, he scooted closer behind me, arms brushing mine as he helped adjust my fingers on a chord. His voice was right at my ear warm, calm.

“Try the seventh here instead. Just a little lift.”

“Like this?” I played it again, and he nodded.

“Perfect,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at my hands.

He was looking at me.

The song ended naturally no dramatic final chord, just a fading strum and a silence filled with electricity.

I let the guitar rest on my lap and turned to face him.

He was already watching me.

“You’re scary good,” he said softly.

I tilted my head. “So are you.”

“No, I mean… you’re so many things. And every time I think I’ve figured you out, you show me another version of you that I want to know more.”

My heart fluttered painfully.

“Chanyeol—”

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head like he didn’t mean to say that out loud.

But I reached for his hand before he could retreat.

“I feel it too,” I said. “Whatever this is.”

His fingers curled into mine.

And there it was again that silence.

Not awkward. Not uncertain.

Just the space between two people who hadn’t kissed yet tonight but probably would in the next breath.

He leaned in.

I met him halfway.

And this time, the kiss was slower. Deeper. Less fire, more feeling.

When we pulled away, neither of us said anything.

The guitar lay quietly between us, strings still warm from our hands.

And the song…

The song wasn’t finished.

But something else had started.

We were still sitting on the couch close, too close the ghost of a kiss still lingering between us. My guitar rested on the floor. His fingers were tracing circles on my knee without even realizing it. Neither of us had said anything for a while.

It was… perfect. Quiet. Real.

Then

BANG.

The studio door flew open.

“Yeol, are you here? Your car’s still in the”

Baekhyun froze in the doorway.

We froze on the couch.

His eyes darted between the two of us my flushed cheeks, Chanyeol’s very casual arm half around my waist, the total lack of space between our legs.

“Oh.” He smirked. “OHHHHHH.”

Chanyeol groaned audibly, already leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. “Bro, no”

“Oh my God,” Baekhyun laughed, stepping into the room with way too much energy for the hour. “What is this? Studio jam session or secret date with a gorgeous girl?”

I blinked, still frozen.

He turned to me, grinning. “Hi. I’m Baekhyun. EXO’s favorite troublemaker. And you… wow. You’re stunning. Are you real?”

I blinked again. “Um… hi?”

He mock-staggered back. “And polite, too. Yeol, you’re winning.”

Chanyeol finally lifted his head, glaring daggers at him. “Can you not?”

“No, I can’t. I walk in on one steamy musical soulmate moment and suddenly I’m the villain?” Baekhyun dropped onto the spare chair dramatically. “Tell me everything. What’s her name? Where did you meet? Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”

“We’re not” Chanyeol started, but Baekhyun cut him off.

“Oh, come on. I haven’t seen you look like this in years. You’re glowing. She’s glowing. There’s a guitar on the floor like someone dropped it during a kiss”

“I dropped it gently,” I muttered.

Baekhyun laughed out loud, clapping. “She’s funny, too?! Chanyeol, you’re screwed.”

“I know,” Chanyeol groaned.

But I couldn’t help smiling.

Baekhyun might’ve barged in like a tornado, but… he wasn’t wrong.

We were glowing.

We were something.

And apparently, not even EXO’s loudest member could ignore it.

Baekhyun finally stood, stretching. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone before I say something that gets me kicked out. But seriously…” he turned to me one last time “…you’re gorgeous. Like, model-in-a-dream gorgeous. Be gentle with our tall boy, yeah?”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “I’ll try.”

Chanyeol made a strangled noise behind me.

And then Baekhyun was gone whistling obnoxiously all the way down the hall.

The door clicked shut.

Silence again.

I turned slowly to face Chanyeol.

“He’s… lively.”

“That was tame for Baekhyun,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. He’s chaos.”

“It’s fine.” I laughed. “Honestly? I kind of liked him.”

Chanyeol looked at me, his eyes still bright from embarrassment, and shook his head.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“But at least,” I teased, nudging his thigh with mine, “he thinks your mystery girl is gorgeous.”

He leaned in closer, that familiar crooked grin returning. “He’s not wrong.”

And this time, the kiss that followed was slow and sure like we didn’t care who walked in next.

[loeyshine]

The First Time I Saw You

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: brother’s bandmate, lovers au, silent admiring, unsaid feelings. “We weren’t supposed to fall not like this, not here but in the quiet moments and stolen glances, we became something real.”

Description: She was the sister he wasn’t supposed to notice, and he was the man she never expected to feel safe with. But between stolen glances, hushed confessions, and a love that bloomed in silence, they found each other in the most forbidden corners of fate tender, raw, and breathtakingly real.

Playlist: when i met you — apo hiking society

Chapter 1:

POV: Chanyeol

The roar of the crowd still echoed in my ears, even as we made our way backstage. Our Seoul concert was always special home, comfort, a kind of magic I could never put into words. Sweat clung to my neck, my lungs still catching up to the adrenaline. I was tired, but the good kind.

I threw my arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder as we walked through the curtain, the staff clapping and cheering for us like we were still onstage. Jongin was already stripping off his jacket, panting like a dog, and Suho-hyung was being pulled aside by a familiar-looking woman probably a coordi-noona.

Then I saw her.

Standing just a little behind the crew, leaning slightly against the wall, holding a small bouquet of white tulips. Black jeans, oversized beige sweater, long hair cascading down her back. She looked comfortable almost like she belonged here but I knew every face in this room. Hers wasn’t one of them.

She tilted her head when Suho noticed her.

And then he smiled. That wide, rare kind of smile he only wore around people he truly loved. The kind that softened his leader lines and made him look like a kid again.

“Y/N!” he said. “You came!”

Y/N.

Wait… Y/N?

I paused mid-step.

Suho-hyung’s sister? The one studying abroad? The one who rarely ever showed up at our dorms or events?

She laughed softly and ran into his arms, the bouquet bouncing in her grip. I caught a glimpse of her face, and something inside me just paused.

I’ve never believed in clichés like time slowing down or fireworks exploding in your chest. But something about her her eyes, her laugh, the way she held onto Suho like she hadn’t seen him in years made me stop in my tracks.

She was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t just that.

It was the warmth she brought into the room without even trying.

It was the way Suho turned soft around her, like she was the only person in the world who could bring out his older-brother side like that.

I realized then, I was staring.

“Yah, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun elbowed me. “You okay?”

I blinked, nodded slowly. “Yeah… who’s that?”

Baekhyun followed my gaze, snorted. “That’s Y/N. Suho-hyung’s younger sister. She just flew in. You’ve never met her?”

“No.” I swallowed. “But… I think I want to.”

A few minutes passed. I busied myself with a water bottle, checking my phone, pretending not to sneak glances across the room. She was chatting with Sehun now, comfortably, like she’d known him forever. She had this calm aura, like nothing phased her. People were naturally drawn to her. Me included.

Finally, Suho motioned her over. “Y/N, come here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

My heart picked up for no good reason. I tried to look relaxed.

She turned to me.

Her eyes met mine.

And it hit me harder than I expected those eyes. Curious. Clear. Like they were already reading me.

“This is Chanyeol,” Suho said. “One of the members. You’ve probably seen him onstage.”

She smiled politely and extended a hand. “Hi, Chanyeol. Good show.”

Her voice was soft. Melodic. Like a song I hadn’t heard in a long time but somehow remembered.

I shook her hand, feeling a little ridiculous at how warm my face felt.

“Thanks,” I said, struggling to sound casual. “I didn’t know Suho-hyung had such a cool sister.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Is that a line you use on all the members’ sisters?”

I blinked. Then laughed.

Okay. She had a sharp tongue.

And I was already hooked.

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Chapter 1:

Y/N’s POV

I hadn’t set foot in Seoul for nearly two years. University abroad had taken over my life midterms, late-night ramen, the gray drizzle of European skies. And yet, the moment I stepped backstage at the EXO concert, it felt like I had never left.

The energy was electric. Staff buzzed like bees, members stumbled in with soaked shirts and glowing smiles, and I almost didn’t notice my brother until he shouted my name.

“Y/N! You came!”

I grinned. “Of course I did, oppa. You think I’d miss a sold-out Seoul Dome concert?”

He hugged me tightly, and for a moment, it felt like we were kids again before EXO, before the training, before the world knew his name.

I caught up with a few members I recognized Sehun, Baekhyun and exchanged light jokes. But then… there was one I didn’t recognize. Or maybe I did, vaguely. Tall. Unreasonably tall. Messy dark hair, and eyes that somehow looked too intense for a man who just performed for thousands.

He was staring.

I felt it before I even looked at him directly.

So I did what I do best smiled like I wasn’t fazed. Walked like I belonged here. And pretended I didn’t just feel something weird and heavy twist in my stomach the second our eyes met.

“Y/N, come here,” my brother called. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I stepped closer, still holding the bouquet for him in one hand.

“This is Chanyeol. One of the members. You’ve probably seen him onstage.”

I turned toward him and wow.

He was… something else up close.

Up close, he looked less like an idol and more like a story I hadn’t heard yet.

“Hi, Chanyeol. Good show.” I offered my hand.

He hesitated just for a second before taking it. His palm was warm and a little rough, like he played guitar or something. His fingers lingered, almost like he was afraid to let go.

“I didn’t know Suho-hyung had such a cool sister,” he said with a half-smile.

I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Is that a line you use on all the members’ sisters?”

He laughed, and I swear it was the kind of laugh that cracked into your ribs and stayed there.

Maybe Seoul was going to be more interesting than I thought.

Chanyeol’s POV

She was quick. Witty. The kind of person who didn’t let you get away with smooth lines, but still smiled like she appreciated the effort.

I’d met a lot of people in this industry actors, models, fellow idols. But Y/N felt different. There was no pretense. No need to impress. She just… was.

And that made me want to know her even more.

After the introductions faded, I found myself hovering near her without even realizing it. She leaned against the wall again, scrolling through her phone, waiting for Suho. Her eyes flicked up, met mine for a second.

“You always hover like this, or am I special?” she said without looking up this time.

I laughed. “You’re special.”

She raised her brows, clearly surprised I admitted it so easily. “That was fast.”

I shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone walk into a backstage room full of idols and still manage to steal all the attention.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile deepened just a little. That was a win.

“I think that’s just your perception, Chanyeol.”

I leaned against the wall beside her. “Maybe. But I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who noticed you.”

She tilted her head. “Is that a warning or a compliment?”

I looked at her really looked. “It’s an observation. And maybe… a beginning.”

She blinked. For a second, her composure cracked. Just a little.

And in that moment, I decided something quietly to myself.

I wanted to see her again.

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Chapter 2:

POV: Y/N

I wasn’t expecting the EXO dorm to be so… normal.

For a group of global superstars, their place felt surprisingly lived-in. Shoes piled by the door, random hoodies slung over chairs, and the comforting smell of ramyeon floating from the kitchen. The boys were gathered on the floor playing some chaotic card game, yelling like it was a war zone.

“Y/N-noona!” Sehun shouted when I walked in. “You’re finally here. Save me, I’m losing.”

“I’m not taking sides,” I laughed, stepping over Kyungsoo’s crossed legs. “But you should’ve known better than to challenge Baekhyun.”

“Damn right,” Baekhyun grinned, flashing his cards like a magician.

Chanyeol was across the room, strumming a quiet rhythm on his guitar while half-watching the game. He gave me a small smile softer than last time. Not as playful. Like something had shifted.

I smiled back, settling onto the couch.

It felt easy, natural. Like I’d known them longer than a week.

An hour passed like five minutes. The boys shouted. Kyungsoo burned someone with a deadpan comment. Suho handed me a soda and told me to “keep the boys in check,” which made me laugh because… has he met them?

At some point, Baekhyun flopped onto the couch beside me, holding his phone.

“So,” he said in a teasing whisper. “Be honest. Which one of us is your favorite?”

“You want me to choose between you and your chaos army?” I whispered back.

He nudged me. “Come on. I’ll tell you a secret if you do.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. It’s… you. Only because you keep feeding me snacks.”

“Yesss,” he hissed in victory. “Okay, now my turn.”

He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “So… does your boyfriend know you’re hanging around a bunch of dangerous idols?”

I snorted. “He doesn’t care. Long-distance problems.”

“Ah,” Baekhyun nodded knowingly. “The mystery man. Suho-hyung said you don’t talk much about him.”

“Because there’s nothing exciting to say,” I muttered, pulling my hair into a bun. “We’re fine. It’s just… you know how some relationships feel more like routine than romance?”

He gave me a look. “You sound like you’re talking about a job.”

“Exactly.” I chuckled softly. “Safe. Predictable. But sometimes I wonder…”

“You wonder what?” he asked curiously.

I shrugged. “If I’m really happy or just comfortable.”

Baekhyun didn’t say anything, just gave a thoughtful hum. We went quiet for a few beats. Then the game on the floor exploded again and someone yelled about someone else cheating.

That was when I noticed it.

A shadow near the hallway.

I looked over and saw Chanyeol.

He wasn’t playing guitar anymore. He wasn’t even pretending to be distracted. He was just… standing there, like he’d been walking by and accidentally caught our whole conversation.

He looked calm on the outside, unreadable even, but his eyes those eyes were darker than before. Like something had closed behind them.

I gave a small, polite smile, but he only gave me a quick nod before heading past us, disappearing down the hallway toward the shared bedrooms.

Something in my chest sank.

Later That Night

Chanyeol’s POV (Brief Interlude)

“Hyung,” I said, catching Suho in the kitchen while he washed a mug. My voice was steady, but my stomach was doing somersaults.

“Hm?”

“Y/N… She has a boyfriend?”

He looked up, surprised by the question. “Yeah. She’s been dating someone since before she left for school abroad. Why?”

I opened my mouth to say nothing, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie. Not to him.

“I just thought she was single.”

He paused, drying the mug slowly. “Did something happen?”

I shook my head. “No. Not really.”

But my heart disagreed.

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Chapter 3

Something felt… off.

It started the next day. Or maybe it had already started that night at the dorm, when I caught a glimpse of Chanyeol disappearing down the hallway after overhearing my conversation with Baekhyun. I didn’t think much of it then, but now… I couldn’t un-feel the shift.

We’d all planned to hang out again after the concert hype died down a casual lunch near the Han River, some fresh air, a break from idol life. The boys were still loud and ridiculous, as always. Jongdae had somehow roped two old ladies into giving him food, and Baekhyun was throwing chips at Sehun for no reason.

But Chanyeol…

He barely spoke to me.

Not in a rude way. Not even cold, really. Just distant. Careful. Like he was drawing a quiet, invisible line between us that hadn’t been there before.

He smiled when I joked around. Laughed when the others laughed. But when I looked at him directly nothing. His eyes didn’t linger. His energy didn’t pull toward me the way it had backstage, when it felt like the air hummed between us.

I told myself I was imagining things.

I had no right to be bothered by it. He was my brother’s bandmate, a guy I barely knew, someone I’d exchanged maybe five minutes of real conversation with. So why did I feel like something was missing?

Why did the silence from him feel louder than all the chaos around me?

I tried to play it cool. I really did.

But I caught myself watching him when he wasn’t looking. Noticing how he laughed with Baekhyun, how he leaned back on the bench with his guitar pick spinning between his fingers. And I kept remembering how his voice had sounded when he told me I was “special.”

God. Why did that stick with me?

“Earth to Y/N,” Suho said suddenly, nudging my side with a water bottle. “You okay?”

“Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”

“You’ve been zoning out a lot today,” he said with narrowed eyes. “Jet lag?”

“Maybe.” I gave a half-smile. “Just tired.”

But I wasn’t tired.

I was confused.

Confused why I cared that a man I barely knew was acting different. Confused by the weird little sting in my chest when he spoke to everyone except me. Confused that I suddenly remembered every word he said to me like it was tattooed somewhere beneath my skin.

And most of all, confused that someone noticing me really seeing me for a second had somehow made me feel more alive than my actual boyfriend had in months.

Later That Night

Back at the apartment I was crashing in, I sat on the bed with my knees pulled up to my chest, scrolling through Instagram without seeing anything. My phone buzzed a message from my boyfriend.

┃ “Missed your call. Will call you tomorrow maybe? Crazy schedule atm. Love you.”

It wasn’t mean. It wasn’t cold. Just distant. Predictable. Routine.

I stared at the message for a while.

Then, without thinking, I typed a new one. Not to him.

To Baekhyun.

┃“Hey. Just wondering… did I do something wrong to Chanyeol?”

A pause.

Then three dots.

┃“No. You didn’t. He just… found out about something. Give him time, yeah?”

I frowned. Found out?

Found out what?

Then it hit me.

The conversation. The one Baekhyun and I had at the dorm.

He must’ve overheard it.

And suddenly, all the puzzle pieces started to fall into place and the picture they formed made my heart feel complicated.

Very, very complicated.

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Chapter 4:

The boys had a rare free afternoon, and somehow, that turned into an impromptu hangout at a rooftop BBQ spot Baekhyun swore was “life-changing.” Suho let me tag along again, and honestly, I didn’t even hesitate.

Something about being around them their energy, their humor, their weird inside jokes felt grounding. Like I was back in Seoul for a reason I couldn’t explain yet.

But even as we laughed and passed grilled meat across the table, I still felt his presence.

Chanyeol.

He was there. Sitting across from me. Polite. Casual. Saying all the right things.

But I could tell.

He wasn’t really there.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His jokes felt rehearsed, like he was fulfilling some unspoken obligation to not make things awkward. And I wanted to ask him why.

I wanted to say: I didn’t lie to you. You just heard something you weren’t supposed to.

But I didn’t.

Because I didn’t even know what I was feeling myself.

Just as I was reaching for a lettuce wrap, my phone buzzed. A familiar name lit up the screen.

Boyfriend.

I froze for half a second. Then stood up, forcing a neutral smile. “Sorry, guys. I’ll be right back.”

“Tell your boyfriend we say hi!” Baekhyun teased, mouth full of pork belly.

I shot him a glare and ducked away toward the far end of the rooftop, near the potted plants and string lights.

“Hey,” I answered quietly.

“Hey, finally,” came his voice tired, distracted. “Sorry I’ve been so MIA. Work’s been insane.”

“It’s okay,” I said softly, sitting on a bench. “I figured.”

“I miss you, though. Feels weird not having you here.”

I smiled faintly. “I miss you too.”

We talked for a few more minutes. It was fine. Routine. Sweet, in a distant sort of way. He told me about work, about a client meeting gone wrong. I laughed when he used that sarcastic tone he always had. But still… it felt like I was watching the call from the outside.

I didn’t know someone was watching me.

Chanyeol’s POV (Brief Interlude)

I didn’t mean to overhear.

Honestly, I didn’t.

I’d just gone to refill my drink. Walked past the side area of the rooftop, half-tuned into Sehun’s dumb story about spilling cola on stage… and then I saw her.

Y/N.

Sitting on that bench with her phone pressed to her ear, her head tilted gently to the side, laughing softly at something someone said on the other end. That smile…

It wasn’t the one she wore with us.

It was gentler. Private. Real.

She looked happy.

And I hated how much that messed with me.

I clenched the drink cup a little tighter, forcing myself to look away before she saw me.

I had no right to feel like this.

But that didn’t stop me from feeling it anyway.

Y/N’s POV (Continued)

I ended the call with a quiet “talk to you soon,” and sat there for a moment afterward, letting the silence wrap around me.

I didn’t feel the way I thought I should after talking to someone I supposedly missed.

I sighed, then stood up, smoothing my shirt as I headed back toward the table.

The others were joking around like nothing had changed. But something in the air felt different to me.

Or maybe it was just me.

And as I took my seat again, I swore I felt eyes on me but when I looked up, Chanyeol was staring hard at the grill, tongs in hand, focused like he was about to perform surgery on a sausage.

Still, I could feel it.

That wall between us wasn’t just growing anymore.

It was getting taller.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5:

POV: Chanyeol

She laughed again.

And it was killing me.

Not because it wasn’t a beautiful sound it was. God, it was.

But because it didn’t belong to me. It belonged to someone else.

She’d been gone maybe ten minutes, taking that call, and I’d spent every second of it trying not to look like I was unraveling.

I hated how much I noticed her now. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was focused. The way her fingers danced on her drink cup while she listened. The way her voice dropped a little softer when she was talking to him.

I’d never envied a voice on the other side of a phone so much in my life.

And when she came back to the table, smiling like nothing had changed, all I could do was flip another piece of meat on the grill and pretend I wasn’t already lost in something I couldn’t have.

Later that night, after we dropped her off and the guys passed out one by one in the dorm, I sat alone in the living room.

Guitar on my lap.

TV off.

Room dark, except for the city lights bleeding in through the window.

I played a few quiet chords nothing planned. Just whatever fell from my hands. Music had always been the place I dumped everything I couldn’t say out loud. But lately, not even music felt like enough.

Suho came in at some point, rubbing his eyes. “You’re still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He sat across from me, stretching his legs. “Y/N asked about you.”

That made my fingers freeze.

“She did?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “She asked if she did something wrong. If you’re avoiding her.”

I looked down at the guitar. “I’m not.”

“Then what’s going on with you?”

I didn’t answer.

Because if I said it if I said her name in that way then I couldn’t take it back. And Suho was my hyung. Her brother. One of my closest friends. Saying it would break too many lines.

But it was getting harder to pretend.

“I just… didn’t expect her to get under my skin like this,” I said quietly. “She’s different. And I hate that I noticed.”

Suho didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then: “She’s not trying to get under your skin. She’s just being herself.”

“I know.”

“And she has a boyfriend.”

“I know.”

That part hurt more than it should.

“She’s not… mine,” I said, mostly to myself. “So why does it feel like she is when she’s around?”

Suho sighed. “Maybe because for a second, she could’ve been. If you’d met her before he did.”

I looked up at him.

“I’m not mad,” he added. “Just don’t drag her into something messy.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know.” He stood up, giving me a long look. “But hearts don’t care what we’d ‘never do,’ Chanyeol. They do what they want.”

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Chapter 6:

POV: Y/N

It was quiet on the other end of the phone.

Too quiet.

The kind of silence that happens when something is ending and both people know it.

“…So that’s it?” I said, my voice barely holding together.

“I don’t want to drag this out, Y/N,” he said. “We’ve both felt it, haven’t we? We’ve been drifting for a long time.”

I closed my eyes. “You don’t even want to try anymore?”

He sighed. “I think we stopped trying a while ago.”

There it was.

The last crack before the dam broke.

I said goodbye with a choked whisper, ended the call, and just stood there in the cold night air on a street corner near the Han River, where I’d gone to “get some air” but ended up getting my heart cracked open instead.

The tears came before I could stop them.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just quiet and endless, like everything I’d been holding in was finally allowed to spill.

I turned away from the sidewalk, not wanting to be seen. My hands trembled as I wiped my face, trying to breathe, trying to stop but it just kept coming.

I started walking. No destination. Just… anywhere that wasn’t here.

And then

I crashed into someone.

Hard.

“Oh—sorry, I—” I froze. My breath caught in my throat.

Chanyeol.

Tall, warm, wide-eyed Chanyeol, with a bag slung over one shoulder, earbuds hanging from his hoodie. He had clearly just left the studio or something. He looked just as surprised to see me.

And worse… he saw the tears.

“Y/N?”

I quickly turned my face away. “It’s nothing.”

“Wait hey.” His voice lowered. “You’re crying.”

“I said it’s nothing,” I mumbled, stepping back. “I have to go, really—”

I didn’t get far.

Because he reached out.

And pulled me into him.

No hesitation.

No words.

Just a long, solid, grounding hug that knocked the air from my lungs.

I froze at first. My heart beating like crazy in my chest.

And then…

I broke.

My hands clutched his hoodie, my head buried against his shoulder, and I cried. Really cried. Like I hadn’t let myself in months. All of it came crashing out frustration, guilt, sadness, confusion.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

He just held me tighter. His arms warm and strong and sure. One hand gently cradled the back of my head, like he wanted to protect me from everything in the world especially myself.

After a while, I finally managed to whisper, “We broke up.”

Chanyeol nodded slightly, still holding me.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “But if it’s any comfort… you deserve so much better than someone who didn’t see you clearly.”

Those words broke something new in me.

Because I knew he meant it.

And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel alone.

I felt… safe.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7:

It had been three days since the breakup.

Three days since I’d broken down in Chanyeol’s arms.

Three days since I cried so hard I thought I’d never be able to look him in the eye again.

And yet, somehow, every time I thought about it… I didn’t feel embarrassed. I just remembered how warm his hoodie was. How tight his grip was around me. How I didn’t feel the need to pretend.

He never told anyone what happened.

But something had shifted.

In him.

In me.

In the air between us.

I’d barely said a word to Suho about it. I didn’t want to deal with big-brother-mode or awkward overprotection. So when the EXO dorm invited me over for dinner again, I hesitated. But I went. I told myself it was just a casual thing, like always.

But of course, nothing ever stays casual for long with eight curious boys and one nosy best friend in the room.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Sehun asked halfway through dinner, mid-bite.

I froze.

Baekhyun visibly winced. Jongdae gave Sehun a look like you idiot.

Suho glanced at me sharply.

I swallowed. “He’s not… in the picture anymore.”

The table fell quiet for a second.

“Wait, what?” Sehun blinked. “You two broke up?”

“Sehun,” Kyungsoo muttered. “Shut up.”

But it was too late.

Suho set down his chopsticks. “When did this happen?”

I sighed and kept my eyes on the plate. “A few days ago.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Because I didn’t want to talk about it.” My voice came out sharper than I meant.

Suho frowned. “Y/N, you’re my sister. You can’t just—”

“I’m fine, oppa. Really.”

“Are you?”

Everyone was watching now. I could feel the tension radiating from the table like heat.

Especially from one direction.

Chanyeol hadn’t said a word.

He sat stiffly beside Baekhyun, staring at his plate like it had answers. I risked a glance his way and in that brief moment, I caught it.

That look in his eyes.

Like he was holding something back.

Like he knew more than he was supposed to.

Like he remembered everything.

Suho turned his attention to Chanyeol suddenly. “Did you know?”

Chanyeol froze. “What?”

“You were out late that night,” Suho said. “You said you bumped into her. Did she say anything?”

There was a long pause.

The room was dead silent.

I held my breath.

Chanyeol finally looked up. Straight at Suho. Then at me.

And then he lied.

“…No. She didn’t say anything.”

My stomach twisted.

Not because he lied.

But because he did it to protect me.

To protect us.

Even if “us” didn’t really exist yet.

Later, after dinner, Baekhyun quietly pulled me aside as the others cleaned up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I lied.

“You don’t look okay.”

I shrugged. “Just… tired.”

He glanced toward the living room where Chanyeol sat on the couch, pretending to scroll through his phone.

“I think he’s the one who’s tired, Y/N,” Baekhyun said softly. “Tired of pretending.”

That made my chest ache.

I didn’t reply.

Because I wasn’t ready to admit that maybe…

I was tired of pretending, too.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8:

I hadn’t planned to stay late.

But Suho fell asleep on the couch mid-movie, Baekhyun disappeared into his room for a game night with Jongin, and slowly, the rest of EXO trickled off into the quiet comfort of the dorm’s walls.

Except one person.

Chanyeol.

He was in the kitchen when I stepped out to grab a drink. Back turned, hoodie sleeves pushed up, quietly rinsing dishes without being asked. For a guy who radiated noise and chaos on stage, he was surprisingly quiet in real life.

Too quiet.

I lingered in the doorway, unsure if I should go back. But something about the way he stood there, shoulders stiff, like he was holding more than just plates in his hands… I couldn’t walk away.

So I stepped forward.

“Want help?” I asked.

He looked up, a little startled. “Oh uh, no. I’m almost done.”

I opened the fridge anyway and grabbed a water bottle. For a second, all I could hear was the faucet running.

Then I blurted, “Thank you.”

He glanced at me. “For what?”

“For the other night.”

His eyes searched mine. Carefully. Slowly. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I do,” I said quietly. “Because you saw me falling apart and you didn’t ask for anything. You just… held me. Like it was okay to break.”

He turned off the faucet.

The kitchen fell into soft silence.

“You were okay to break,” he said. “I just… I wanted you to feel safe enough to do it.”

Something about that hit too deep. Too fast.

I looked down at the bottle in my hand. “I didn’t tell Suho.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I didn’t either.”

A beat passed.

Then another.

Then he said it.

“Y/N…”

I looked up.

He hesitated. His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again.

“Do you ever wonder if… maybe all of this happened for a reason?”

My heart stuttered. “What do you mean?”

He took a slow step closer.

And then another.

And suddenly, he was close enough that I could feel his warmth smell the faint scent of his cologne, something woodsy and clean and far too comforting.

“Your breakup,” he said quietly. “Me… seeing you that night. You showing up in our lives like you dropped out of the sky.”

My throat went dry. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel something every time you walk into the room.”

My breath caught.

“Chanyeol…”

“I know it’s messy. And I know I’m the last person who should feel this way especially with Suho watching like a hawk.” He let out a bitter laugh. “But I can’t turn it off. I’ve tried.”

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

Because my heart was beating too loudly in my ears. Because my mind was spinning. Because deep down, I knew…

I’d felt it too.

That shift. That gravity.

The problem was I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face it.

So I whispered, “It’s only been a few days.”

Chanyeol nodded. He stepped back, just slightly. Enough to give me air. Enough to give me space to run if I needed to.

“I know,” he said softly. “I’m not asking you to figure it out right now.”

He looked down, then back up at me eyes dark, warm, and honest.

“I just needed you to know.”

And with that, he walked past me. Gently. Slowly.

And left me standing in the kitchen with my heart in my throat.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 9:

I didn’t sleep that night.

Not really.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him standing in that quiet kitchen, his voice low and unshakably sincere.

┃“I just needed you to know.”

And now I did.

The problem was, I didn’t know what to do with it.

My chest was a storm of thoughts. I kept replaying the moment in my head, over and over, like it would make things clearer. Like I’d suddenly know what to feel.

But all I knew was this:

Chanyeol wasn’t just some harmless crush anymore.

He wasn’t just my brother’s bandmate.

He wasn’t just comfort.

He was… something else now.

And the worst part? I wasn’t sure when that happened.

The next day, I needed to breathe. To process. So I called the one person who definitely saw more than he ever commented on.

“Baek?”

“Mmm?” he answered, a little groggy. “Is this the ‘come get coffee with me before I spiral’ kind of call?”

“…Yes.”

He sighed dramatically. “I’m in.”

We sat at a quiet little café tucked in a corner of Mapo. No fans. No cameras. Just me, Baekhyun, and two oversized iced Americanos.

I tried to find the right words. But Baekhyun, of course, beat me to it.

“It’s about Chanyeol, isn’t it?”

My eyes widened. “How did you—”

“I have eyes. And a brain. And ears.” He sipped. “Honestly, the way you two orbit each other is almost exhausting to watch.”

I groaned. “It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated.”

“He told you something, didn’t he?”

I nodded slowly. “Last night. After everyone went to sleep.”

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Not like that.” I blushed. “We were just talking. In the kitchen.”

He gave me a knowing smirk but let it go.

I exhaled. “He said he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t feel something every time I’m in the room.”

Baekhyun went quiet. For once.

“I didn’t know what to say,” I admitted. “I mean, I’m still figuring out what I feel. I just got out of something. And now… this.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked, voice softer now.

“I don’t know.” I looked down. “I know he makes me feel safe. And seen. And… like I don’t have to be anyone other than me.”

“That sounds like a pretty good start.”

“It scares me.”

Baekhyun nodded. “That’s how you know it matters.”

I glanced at him. “What if Suho finds out?”

He gave me a small smile. “You think your brother hasn’t noticed? He’s a leader, not blind.”

“…He’s gonna kill us.”

“Possibly.” Baekhyun shrugged. “But he’ll get over it if it’s real. And if Chanyeol’s the one who catches you when you fall… I think even Suho can’t argue with that.”

I looked out the window, watching the city blur past.

Part of me still felt tangled. Lost.

But another part the quietest part was starting to wonder if maybe this wasn’t so complicated after all.

Maybe it was just the beginning of something that finally made sense.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 10:

The air was electric the moment we piled into the van.

It was supposed to be a casual day out just some fresh air, laughter, and forgetting all the tangled feelings for a few hours. But with all of us together, under the same roof, the quiet undercurrent was impossible to ignore.

Chanyeol sat across from me, arms folded, eyes flicking sideways like he was ready to jump out if things got too intense.

I felt it too. That pull between us unsaid, unclaimed, but there.

Baekhyun plopped down next to me, grinning like he knew exactly what was going on. “Relax,” he whispered. “Today’s about fun. And maybe a little chaos.”

I smiled weakly. Easier said than done.

At the café, Sehun was already teasing me about my “ex” like he’d just uncovered a scandal.

“Seriously, Y/N, you’re free now. What’s stopping you?” he grinned.

Before I could answer, Chanyeol’s voice cut through from across the table.

“Yeah, Y/N. What’s stopping you?”

Everyone turned. I blinked. His eyes were locked on mine steady, daring.

Heat rushed up my neck.

I opened my mouth, but Baekhyun beat me to it. “Chanyeol, chill. You’re not the only one allowed to ask questions.”

Chanyeol smirked. “I’m just making conversation.”

But I caught the flicker in his eyes the smallest edge of something more.

Later, at the park, I caught Chanyeol watching me talk to my phone, probably texting my boyfriend except I wasn’t.

I was texting my best friend, spilling everything. The breakup, the confession, the fear, the hope.

He saw me smile at the screen.

And then he saw it crack.

A moment later, Baekhyun nudged him and whispered something.

Chanyeol’s jaw tightened.

As the sun dipped low, we sat on the steps outside the dorm, the city buzzing softly around us.

Chanyeol’s hand brushed mine not quite a touch, but close enough to send sparks.

I glanced at him, heart pounding.

His voice was low. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

I swallowed. “I’m scared.”

He gave me a small, understanding smile. “Me too.”

And then, like the walls holding everything back finally crumbled, his hand found mine fully.

The world didn’t explode.

But it felt like it might.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 11:

The evening was winding down. The city lights flickered softly around us, and for a brief moment, everything felt peaceful like maybe the chaos had finally settled.

Chanyeol’s hand was still wrapped around mine, warm and steady.

I was starting to believe maybe this could work. Maybe we could figure it out. Maybe this complicated, tangled mess could become something real.

And then the door slammed open.

“Y/N? Chanyeol?”

Suho’s voice cut through the quiet like a thunderclap.

We jumped apart instantly me stumbling back, heart racing, cheeks burning.

Suho’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene: our hands still inches apart, flushed faces, the silence heavy between us.

“Care to explain what’s going on here?” he asked, voice low but firm.

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

Chanyeol stepped forward, shoulders squared.

“Hyung,” he started, “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this…”

Suho cut him off, eyes sharp but not angry. “I’m not mad. I’m surprised. And honestly, a little relieved you both finally stopped hiding.”

My breath hitched. “Suho…”

He smiled gentle but serious. “Y/N, you’re my sister. I want you to be happy. And if Chanyeol’s the one who can do that, then I trust you.”

I blinked, stunned.

Chanyeol looked at Suho like he’d just won a battle he thought he’d never face.

The tension broke, replaced by something softer. Realer.

For the first time, I felt like maybe we could all navigate this together.

It was late. The rest of the members had already gone to bed, their laughter and footsteps fading down the hallway.

But Chanyeol and I stayed behind, sitting close on the couch in the quiet living room of the dorm.

My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

He looked at me really looked at me like I was the only person in the world.

“I’ve wanted to say this for a while,” he began, voice soft but steady. “Since the night I first saw you backstage. I felt something… I don’t know how to explain it. But it’s real.”

I swallowed hard. “Me too.”

His hand found mine again, fingers intertwining with a gentleness that made me want to melt.

“Y/N,” he whispered, leaning in just a little. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Neither did I.

So I closed the space between us.

Our lips met in a kiss that was soft at first hesitant, sweet, filled with everything we’d both been holding back.

And then it deepened, full of promise and relief.

Like finally, after all the confusion, everything had fallen into place.

When we pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, breath mingling.

“I’m glad it’s you,” I said quietly.

“Me too,” he smiled.

And in that moment, I knew this was only the beginning.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 12:

The days after that night felt like waking up from a dream. Suddenly, Chanyeol was more than just my brother’s bandmate or the guy who made my heart race backstage. He was mine. And I was his.

We moved carefully at first, stealing glances across the dorm, sharing smiles that only we understood. His hand in mine became a quiet promise.

But nothing stays quiet for long with EXO.

The first to notice was Baekhyun. We were hanging out in the living room when he smirked at me, eyebrow raised.

“So,” he said casually, “you and Chanyeol… what’s going on?”

I flushed, ready to deny or dodge, but Baekhyun just grinned wider.

“Don’t worry, I’m on your side. But don’t make me work too hard to tease you.”

I laughed, relieved to have his support.

Later that week, Suho called me aside.

“Are you happy?” he asked quietly, eyes searching mine.

“More than I thought I could be,” I admitted.

He smiled, sincere and warm. “I trust you, Y/N. And I trust Chanyeol.”

That meant more to me than I could say.

Chanyeol, meanwhile, struggled a bit more.

Behind his easygoing smile, he was fiercely protective sometimes too much.

Once, when I accidentally brushed hands with another member during a group game, he shot me a look so sharp it made me nervous.

Later, he caught me alone.

“Hey,” he said softly, “I know I need to trust you. I’m trying.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand. “Me too.”

The other members started teasing us openly, but it was all in good fun. Jongin would nudge Chanyeol and whisper, “You got lucky, hyung.” Sehun gave me playful side-eyes, and even Suho joined in sometimes, laughing like only a protective older brother can.

Despite the teasing, there was an unspoken support beneath it all.

One night, as we sat on the rooftop looking over Seoul’s glittering skyline, Chanyeol wrapped his arm around me.

“I want to take this slow,” he said.

“Me too.”

His voice dropped, earnest and deep. “But no matter what happens, I’m here. With you.”

I leaned into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

And I knew whatever came next, we’d face it together.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 13: Final Chapter

Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the room. I blinked awake, a quiet warmth curled around me Chanyeol’s arm draped protectively over my waist, fingers lightly tracing lazy patterns on my skin.

I stayed still for a moment, just breathing him in, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips.

“Good morning,” he murmured, eyes still closed but smiling.

“Morning,” I whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair away from his forehead.

He sighed contentedly, pulling me a little closer.

Breakfast was simple noodles and eggs but with Chanyeol, even the simplest things felt special. We joked over steaming bowls, stealing bites and laughing at our terrible chopstick skills.

When he teased me for making a mess, I retaliated by flicking a noodle at his nose, which earned a goofy grin and a mock scowl.

Later, we wandered through a quiet park near the dorm, hand in hand.

Chanyeol pulled me close beneath a canopy of cherry blossoms, petals drifting around us like soft confetti.

We talked about everything and nothing plans, dreams, silly jokes.

He stopped suddenly, turning to face me.

“Y/N, I still can’t believe how lucky I am.”

I smiled, my heart swelling. “Me too.”

Back at the dorm, as the afternoon sun dipped low, we curled up on the couch, heads resting together, the hum of the city outside like a lullaby.

No grand gestures. No big confessions.

Just two people learning how to be together in the quiet, beautiful moments that felt like home.

[loeyshine]

nobody:

absolutely no one:

not a single soul:

chanyeol fic writers: his EARS are BIG

[loeyshine]

The Way I Loved You

Epitome Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: teenage nostalgia, romance angst, exes to lovers again, unsaid love, perfect relationship. “You're so in love that you act insane and that's the way I loved you”

Description: his love? respectful, comforting, and safe. But yours? intoxicating, rebellious, loud. He is totally perfect, but I wish I knew that you were always the perfect one for me.

Playlist: the way i loved you — taylor swift

Chapter 1: Picture-Perfect

Everyone says I’m lucky.

Jisoo is the perfect boyfriend. He picks me up for school in his spotless car, brings me flowers “just because,” and always texts back within minutes. He listens patiently, even when I ramble about things like nail polish shades and my cat’s weird obsession with cucumbers.

And he never yells. Never slams a door. Never breaks plans. He’s steady. Safe. A dream boyfriend, according to every girl in school.

But sometimes, in the middle of a perfect date, my heart aches for something else.

For someone else.

Someone who wasn’t perfect.

But made me feel alive.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2: Lightning and Thunder

His name still burns like a melody in my chest.

Chanyeol.

He was the boy your parents warned you about. The lead guitarist in the school band, late to class, quick with a joke and even quicker with a wink. He smelled like peppermint gum and rebellion. His hoodie always smelled like campfire smoke and a little bit of trouble.

We weren’t the couple people expected. I was student council vice president. He got suspended twice. I color-coded my notes. He doodled dragons in his math homework.

But when we were together... the world stopped spinning in the usual way. It tilted. It rushed. He made me feel like I was standing in the middle of a thunderstorm, heart thumping, breath stolen, soaked in something too wild to define.

We laughed until we cried. Fought like fire and gasoline.

Kissed like it was the last moment on Earth.

But fire burns.

And he left. Or maybe I did.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3: Memory Lane

Tonight’s the Spring Dance.

Jisoo’s tie matches my dress. He tells me I look “elegant” the exact word he used last time. He holds my hand gently, smiles at my parents, and leads me to the dance floor.

Everything is right.

But then the gym doors open.

And in walks the storm.

Chanyeol.

Leather jacket. Messy hair. A cocky smirk that hits me like a punch to the chest.

My breath catches. My hands go cold.

And just like that, I’m seventeen again, falling hard for the boy who drove me crazy and made me feel everything.

He doesn’t see me at first. But when he does

Oh God.

That half-smile.

That haunted look like he’s seeing a ghost he used to love.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4: The Way I Loved You

Later, in the hallway, I find myself alone. Just for a second.

Then a voice behind me.

“You still wear lavender,” he says. “I remember.”

I turn, heart racing.

“I thought you left,” I whisper.

He shrugs. “I tried.”

We don’t touch. But the air between us feels like a live wire.

“You look good,” he adds.

“You look... like trouble,” I shoot back.

He grins. “Some things never change.”

We laugh. Just once. But it hurts, because it’s not the same.

I have Jisoo now. He doesn’t make me cry. Or scream. Or stay up all night replaying every word.

But he doesn’t make my heart race, either.

Not like this.

Not like Chanyeol.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5: Goodbye Again

When I return to the gym, Jisoo hands me a drink and smiles.

I smile back.

He’s perfect. I know that.

But as we dance, my mind drifts to a boy with calloused fingers and a laugh that used to echo in my bones.

And for just one moment, I let myself remember what it was like to love someone the way I loved Chanyeol.

Wild. Reckless. Beautiful.

A little bit broken.

But mine.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Flashback Scene

It was raining so hard I could barely see the road, but I didn’t care.

My phone was blowing up Chanyeol (3 missed calls), Chanyeol (7 texts) each one more furious than the last.

And I was just as angry. Just as broken. Just as reckless.

I slammed open the door of the convenience store, my hair soaked and sticking to my face. And there he was.

Chanyeol.

Standing there with his hoodie dripping, his jaw tight, and his eyes stormy like the night sky outside.

"You weren’t answering," he said, voice low but shaking. "I thought something happened—"

"You think I wanted to talk to you after the way you embarrassed me in front of everyone today?"

"You embarrassed yourself, Y/N!" he shot back. "You always do this run away, act like I’m the villain, like I didn’t—"

"You yelled at me in front of your bandmates!”

"Because you were flirting with that transfer guy like I was invisible!"

"You know I wasn't!"

"Then why the hell did it feel like it?!"

We were both screaming now.

The cashier ducked behind the counter. A couple grabbing ramen paused mid-step. But we didn’t care. It was always like this. Raw. Loud. Too much.

And then, just like always, he stepped forward.

And I didn’t back away.

His hands cupped my face. His breath was ragged.

"I hate fighting with you," he whispered. "But I hate not talking to you more."

"You drive me crazy," I hissed.

"I know." His forehead pressed against mine. “But I can’t breathe without you.”

And right there, in the middle of the store, with the rain pounding behind us and our hearts still racing from the fight,

he kissed me.

Hard. Messy. Desperate

It was stupid. It was wild.

It was us.

Present Day

Jisoo never yells.

He always lets me win the argument, even when I don’t deserve to.

We never fight in public. We talk things through calmly.

He kisses my forehead, not my lips.

It’s peaceful. It’s mature. It’s healthy.

But sometimes, at 2 a.m., when he’s asleep and I’m staring at the ceiling...

I whisper your name, Chanyeol.

And curse it.

Because God, I miss screaming.

And fighting.

And kissing in the rain.

So in love that I acted insane.

Because that...

that was the way I loved you.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6: Sparks Reignite

The last person I expected to see leaning against my locker on a random Thursday afternoon was Park Chanyeol.

But there he was.

Hands shoved into his jacket pockets. That same lazy, infuriating smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to me just by standing there.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep my voice flat, my heart steady. Failing at both.

He tilted his head. “You forgot your umbrella at the dance.”

I blinked. “You came all the way here... for an umbrella?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d drop it off. And maybe ask why you looked like you saw a ghost the other night.”

“I didn’t.”

“Liar.”

I hated how he could read me. Still. Like no time had passed at all.

“Don’t do this,” I muttered. “You don’t get to waltz back into my life like nothing happened.”

“You think I haven’t thought about you every goddamn day?”

My breath hitched.

“You moved on, Chanyeol.”

He stepped closer. His voice dropped lower.

“You think Jisoo makes you feel the way I did?”

I froze.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” His eyes burned into mine. “You’re telling me you never think about it? About us? The nights we stayed out until sunrise? The fights? The way we’d kiss after like we couldn’t breathe without each other?”

“You made me cry, Chanyeol.”

“You made me insane, Y/N. I was in love with you. I still—”

He stopped himself. Took a breath. “But maybe I just wasn’t good enough for you.”

I stared at him, my throat dry. My heart pounding like I was seventeen again, standing in the rain with tears and laughter mixing on my face.

“I’m with someone now,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said softly. “And he’s everything I never was.”

I nodded.

“But,” he added, stepping so close I could feel his warmth, “does he make you feel everything?”

The bell rang. Students surged around us. But the world blurred. There was only him.

Only the ache.

“I have to go,” I whispered.

He nodded, stepping back. But as I walked away, I heard him say it soft, wrecked, and real:

“That was the way I loved you.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7: The Last Goodbye

The air smelled like summer and endings.

Graduation caps floated in the air. Flashbulbs burst like tiny fireworks. Students laughed and cried and hugged like they were breaking apart just to be put back together again.

Jisoo held my hand, smiling proudly. “We made it,” he whispered, his thumb brushing the back of my hand.

I smiled back. “Yeah. We did.”

He leaned in, kissed my forehead. Our families were a few feet away, snapping pictures. The picture-perfect ending to the picture-perfect high school story.

But my eyes drifted past the crowd.

And found him.

Chanyeol stood alone, cap in hand, gown wrinkled, posture loose like he didn’t care that this was the end. Like he had already said goodbye to this place a long time ago.

But he looked at me.

And for a moment, the noise faded.

The tassels, the speeches, the applause gone.

It was just him. And me.

And everything we never said.

I squeezed Jisoo’s hand. “I’ll be right back,” I murmured, already walking before he could ask why.

I found Chanyeol near the back field, where the parking lot met the tree line. The place where we used to sneak out during lunch. The place where he first kissed me under the bleachers.

He didn’t say anything as I approached. Just shoved his hands in his pockets and waited.

“This is it, huh?” I said quietly. “End of everything.”

“Nah,” he said. “Just the end of high school. The rest of it... that’s just beginning.”

I laughed softly. “You always made the future sound easy.”

“It’s not,” he replied. “Especially when you’re watching the person you love walk away.”

My heart squeezed. But I didn’t move.

“I chose him,” I said gently.

“I know.” He looked away, jaw tight. “He’s good to you.”

“He is.”

There was silence. Wind in the trees. The sound of someone popping a bottle of sparkling cider in the distance.

“I want you to be happy, Y/N,” he said finally. “Even if it’s not with me.”

“I know.”

He looked at me then. Really looked. And I saw it all of it.

The love.

The regret.

The storm we never outran.

“I’ll always miss the way we loved,” I whispered, voice breaking. “Even if it wasn’t right.”

He smiled sad and soft. “It was never supposed to be forever, was it?”

“No,” I said. “But it was real.”

We didn’t hug. Didn’t kiss.

That would’ve broken me.

So I just turned away, one last time, and walked back toward the boy waiting for me. The boy who gave me peace.

And behind me, the boy who gave me fire let me go.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8: A Different Kind of Silence

Four years later.

The city was loud, fast, and constantly glowing the kind of place where people wore headphones to avoid small talk and always walked like they were late for something.

I fit right in.

Twenty-two, working a corporate job I didn’t hate, in a high-rise building where everyone drank too much coffee and pretended sleep wasn’t a necessity.

Single.

Focused.

Trying to heal from a breakup that no one but me saw coming.

Jisoo and I ended quietly. No big fights. Just long silences and short conversations until it faded into something polite.

It wasn’t tragic.

Just empty.

And sometimes, I wondered if that kind of ending hurt worse.

It was raining that day. A light, steady drizzle not stormy like the nights I remembered from high school. Just soft, quiet.

I ducked into a bookstore café during lunch, desperate to escape the wet chaos outside. I grabbed a tea, pulled out my laptop, and looked up

and froze.

Across the room, in a denim jacket and a black beanie, flipping through the spine of a book with the same lazy grip I remembered too well, was Chanyeol.

He looked older. Sharper jaw. Slight stubble. A little taller, somehow.

But his eyes...

His eyes were exactly the same.

I watched him for a second too long, and when he looked up

Our eyes locked.

And just like that, the world stopped again.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 9: So, We Meet Again

“Y/N?” he asked, walking over, voice half-disbelieving, half-smiling.

“Chanyeol.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to.

He laughed under his breath, ran a hand through his hair. “You look... like someone who definitely has a LinkedIn now.”

I laughed. “And you look like someone who still forgets to bring an umbrella.”

“Guilty,” he grinned.

We sat.

At first it was casual. Safe. Talking about jobs he worked at a sound production company, freelanced for indie musicians, still played guitar. I told him about my marketing role, the pressure, the expectations.

But eventually, we slipped.

“You still write when you’re sad?” he asked quietly.

My heart stuttered. “Sometimes. You still make playlists for people you love?”

His smile faltered. “No one stuck around long enough.”

Silence.

He stirred his coffee. I stared at my tea.

“You look happy,” he said finally.

“I’m getting there,” I replied honestly. “You?”

He looked at me like he was about to say something that would ruin me. But instead, he just said,

“I’ve missed you.”

I swallowed. “We were young.”

“But it was real,” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

We didn’t say I still think about you.

We didn’t need to.

It was in the way he looked at me like no time had passed.

It was in the way my heart still beat out of rhythm when he smiled.

But we were adults now. The world wasn’t the same. We weren’t the same.

And yet... maybe that was the point.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 10: Almost, Again

We exchanged numbers.

No dramatic confessions. No promises. Just a quiet “let’s catch up sometime,” like two people pretending not to feel something bigger simmering under the surface.

But he texted me the next day.

Chanyeol:

Still thinking about that bookstore. Want to grab dinner sometime? No pressure. Just… I missed talking to you.

I stared at the screen too long before replying.

Me:

Yeah. I’d like that.

We didn’t fall into old patterns.

We didn’t pretend we hadn’t hurt each other.

Instead, we started over.

He picked a cozy ramen place tucked away in a side alley. I wore a black coat and left my hair down the way he used to like it, though I didn’t tell him that.

We talked.

About work. About music. About what it felt like to grow up and realize that not all first loves were meant to be forever... but some never really *left* you either.

There was no screaming.

No thunder.

Just him, smiling softly over his bowl, saying, “I still remember how you hate mushrooms, by the way. I ordered around them.”

My heart cracked a little at that.

Because even after all these years,

he remembered.

After dinner, we stood outside. The rain had stopped, but the pavement was still shining.

He looked at me like he wanted to say something dangerous.

“You ever think,” he murmured, “about what would’ve happened if we hadn’t let go?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “But we were a mess.”

“We were fire,” he corrected.

I smiled. “We almost burned each other down.”

He stepped closer. Not touching. Just near enough to feel.

“But now?” he asked. “We’re older. Wiser. Less flammable.”

I looked up at him. The boy I once loved like a storm now stood in front of me, calm. Patient.

The same heart.

But steadier hands.

“So what are we now?” I asked.

His smile was quiet. “Whatever you’re ready for.”

And for the first time in a long, long time...

I felt ready.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 11: Something Like a Beginning

We didn’t rush it this time.

There were no impulsive kisses in the rain, no midnight screaming matches, no dizzy makeups that blurred into messes again.

This time, Chanyeol called me after work just to hear about my day.

He sent me voice notes when I was too tired to talk. Silly ones. Soft ones.

He made playlists again only this time, they weren’t titled things like "Heartbreak Hotel" or "Songs That Make Me Think of Her."

One day, a file showed up in my inbox titled:

“for Y/N — now, not then.”

It was warm and slow, full of acoustic strings and breathy vocals. A little older, like us. A little wiser.

I sat on my apartment floor that night, my back against the couch, just listening with my eyes closed.

And I realized

I was falling in love again.

Not with the boy he used to be.

But with the man he had become.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 12: The First Real Date

He didn’t try to impress me.

There were no rooftop restaurants, no candlelit dinners. Just a tiny vinyl shop in Hongdae and takeout dumplings eaten on the curb outside.

“You okay sitting on the street like this?” he asked, chewing thoughtfully.

“It’s perfect,” I said.

He smiled like that meant everything.

We talked about everything and nothing.

About how he still couldn't cook to save his life. About how I was thinking of quitting my job and going freelance. About how we both liked silence now, the kind that didn’t beg to be filled.

And then, as the sun set behind the buildings and the city lit up around us,

he reached for my hand.

Not like he was claiming me.

But like he was asking.

And this time, I said yes.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 13: Home

It was late when he walked me home.

Outside my door, we lingered.

“I’m not gonna ask to come in,” he said, voice low. “Not yet.”

I leaned against the doorframe, my heart soft and steady.

“I know,” I whispered. “But I want to kiss you.”

He smiled.

“Then kiss me.”

So I did.

Not like before not rushed, or desperate, or like we had something to prove.

This kiss was slow. Familiar.

A breath.

A promise.

And when I pulled back, he whispered,

“I love the way we are now.”

I smiled, forehead resting against his.

“Me too.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 14: The Truth He Never Said

It was a quiet Sunday.

The kind where the city moved slower. Where you stayed in soft clothes all day and shared takeout straight from the boxes.

We were sitting on my couch me curled up with my feet under his thigh, him strumming an unplugged electric guitar absentmindedly, picking out a half-finished melody.

I reached for another dumpling and tossed him a glance.

“You ever think we’d get here again?” I asked, a little teasing. “You and me, doing nothing together… and it actually feeling good?”

He chuckled. “Honestly? No. I thought you’d forget me.”

I looked at him.

“I never forgot you, Chanyeol.”

He was quiet for a second. His fingers stilled on the strings. Then:

“I never dated anyone after you.”

My hand paused midair. “What?”

He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling like he was trying to find the right words somewhere between the plaster and the shadows.

“I mean, I tried,” he admitted. “Went on a few dates. Had a couple of almost-somethings. But… I couldn’t do it.”

I sat up a little. My heart beat harder.

“Why?” I asked, voice softer than I meant.

He turned to me then. Honest. Raw. Not hiding.

“Because they weren’t you.”

The air between us shifted.

“I didn’t want a ‘peaceful love’ or a ‘safe one,’” he said quietly. “I wanted you. Even when it hurt. Even when it was messy. And after we ended... it was like nothing else fit.”

I swallowed hard. “Chanyeol…”

He gave me a crooked smile. “It’s not a guilt trip. I just… I needed you to know. Back then, I was stupid. Immature. Angry at the world. But I never stopped loving you.”

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes not out of sadness, but from the sheer weight of what he was saying.

I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his.

“You waited for me?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said with a soft laugh. “It just… happened.”

And in that moment, every version of us the teenage chaos, the heartbreak, the years apart folded into the space between our joined hands.

This was still love.

But now,

it was finally ready.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 15: The Answer Was Always You

It happened on a normal day.

No fireworks.

No audience.

Just the two of us.

We had taken a weekend trip to the coast just for a break. The kind of quiet escape where the world didn’t need us for a little while. A little seaside town where no one recognized us, and time moved gently.

On the last evening, we walked along the shore barefoot, shoes in hand, salty breeze wrapping around us like a memory.

The sun was setting all gold and pink and slow.

Chanyeol had been quiet for most of the walk, fingers brushing mine now and then. I didn’t think anything of it. We were always like that now comfortable in the silences.

Then he stopped.

Turned to face me. Eyes soft. Nervous.

I tilted my head. “What?”

He looked like he was searching for air. Or maybe courage.

“You know I’ve loved you in every version of us, right?” he said, voice low.

I blinked. My chest tightened. “Chanyeol…”

“I loved you when we were young and stupid. I loved you when you walked away. I loved you when you walked back in. And I don’t want to spend another second wondering what comes next without you in it.”

And then slowly, reverently he dropped to one knee in the sand.

My breath caught.

He didn’t pull out some fancy ring box.

Instead, he pulled out a tiny velvet pouch the kind we saw at that antique market months ago, when I pointed to a ring and said quietly, “That one looks like it knows secrets.”

He remembered.

He always did.

“I don’t need perfect,” he said, voice shaking. “I just need you.Forever, if you’ll let me.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks before I even realized I was crying.

I dropped to my knees with him, the waves just barely brushing our toes, and whispered,

“Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

He laughed, breathless with relief, and pulled me into his arms, the ring forgotten between us for a moment as he kissed me like he never wanted to let go again.

That night, we sat under a blanket on the porch of our rented cottage, watching the stars and drinking hot cocoa from mismatched mugs.

The ring felt weightless on my finger not because it wasn’t real…

But because it had always belonged there.

He looked at me with that same wild, beautiful fire in his eyes.

“I spent years wondering if I’d ever get another chance with you,” he said. “Now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making sure I never lose it.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder, eyes closing with a smile.

“You won’t,” I whispered.

And I meant it.

Because this time,

we were ready.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 16: The Way I See You

(Chanyeol’s POV)

The late afternoon light filters through the living room window, casting long, lazy shadows across the floor.

I’m sitting on the couch, guitar resting against the arm, but I’m not playing.

Instead, I’m watching you.

You’re on the floor, your hair slightly messy from chasing after our little whirlwind of a daughter.

She’s laughing that pure, bubbling laugh that always fills the room and you’re tickling her, your eyes sparkling in that way that stopped my heart years ago.

There’s no script here. No stage. No audience.

Just you.

And her.

And the quiet chaos of home.

I catch the way your smile softens when she wraps tiny fingers around yours, the way you whisper something silly that makes her squeal.

I realize how much I love you not just the girl I fell for in the rain, or the woman who said yes on that beach.

But this the you I get to come home to.

You, who make ordinary moments feel like a song I want to play on repeat.

I never thought I could love someone more deeply than I did back then.

But here I am.

Falling again.

Every day.

Because you are my home.

My forever.

And the way I love you now?

It’s quiet.

It’s steady.

It’s everything.

[loeyshine]

Through the Window │Final

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: dark romance, thriller, mystery, teen au, boy next door, obsessive love. "If I can't have you, no one else will."

⚠️ Trigger warning: emotional manipulation, possessive behavior, blurred consent, psychological isolation.

Description: they say I'm weird yet you came into my life, it's a silent chaos. You're perfect from head to heels and you are mine just mine.

Playlist: her - tyler, the creator

Chapter 17:

I couldn’t stop staring.

The boy who used to lurk like a shadow was suddenly impossible to ignore.

His new look was… intoxicating.

Like he’d stepped out of a dream, the kind you don’t want to wake from.

But alongside that rush of excitement, a dull ache settled in my chest.

Because this glow-up wasn’t just skin deep.

It felt like a warning.

I caught myself wondering how much of this change was for me.

Did he want me to see him this way?

Did he want the world to notice?

The hallways buzzed with whispers about him.

Friends nudged me, eyes wide. “Did you see Chanyeol? He looks so good now.”

I smiled politely but felt a knot tighten inside.

Because I knew the storm behind those calm eyes.

The same storm that made me both crave and fear him.

When our eyes met again, he gave me that softer smile.

And for a moment, I almost forgot the darkness between us.

Almost.

But then he stepped closer, voice low, “Do you like what you see?”

I swallowed hard, heart pounding.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

He smirked, a flicker of the old intensity flashing through.

“Good.”

Because beneath the new look, he was still Chanyeol.

And I was still trapped in the pull of his storm.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 18:

His room felt different somehow.

Not darker.

Not colder.

More... lived-in.

Like the space between us had softened, just a little.

He sat on the edge of his bed, running his fingers through that new, perfectly tousled hair of his, looking less like the storm and more like the calm before it.

I settled onto the worn rug beside him, careful not to break the silence.

For a while, we didn’t say much.

Just the faint hum of the city outside the window, and the slow rhythm of his breathing.

Then, without warning, he reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

His fingers lingered.

“Did you really like the new look?” he asked softly.

I shrugged, heart racing. “Yeah. You look… different. Good different.”

He smiled, that slow, unreadable smile.

“Good.”

I caught my breath when his hand slipped over mine.

No demands. No pressure.

Just a touch that said I’m here.

For the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe just maybe we could be something other than the chaos we’d become.

But even as I let my fingers curl around his, the old tension simmered beneath.

Like a warning whispered through the quiet

Be careful what you wish for.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 19:

His hand still held mine, warm and steady.

After a long silence, Chanyeol finally spoke his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

“You know… I wasn’t always like this,” he said, eyes fixed on our intertwined fingers. “The intense. The quiet. The storm.”

I looked up, surprised.

“What do you mean?”

He swallowed, like digging up memories he didn’t want to face.

“When I was younger… I was lost. I didn’t know how to be normal, or even if I wanted to.”

His gaze met mine, vulnerability shining through the usual intensity.

“I think… I used to think if I controlled everything around me, if I kept people at a distance, I wouldn’t get hurt.”

He gave a small, bitter smile.

“But that only made me lonelier.”

I squeezed his hand gently.

“I’m glad you told me.”

He nodded slowly, eyes searching mine like he was looking for permission.

“Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m scared of losing you… or of letting you see who I really am.”

For the first time, I saw past the walls he built.

The boy behind the storm.

And suddenly, the dangerous pull between us didn’t feel quite so terrifying.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 20:

The room was thick with quiet, the kind that presses against your skin and makes every breath feel electric.

His eyes dark, smoldering locked onto mine like he was memorizing every inch of me.

No words. No hesitation.

Just the weight of him moving closer, his hands tracing the curve of my jaw, tilting my face toward his.

His lips crashed against mine hungry, demanding, but careful.

Every touch burned, every breath tangled in a heat I couldn’t deny.

His hands roamed, slipping beneath my shirt, fingers skimming my skin, setting fire to every nerve ending.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he murmured against my lips, voice rough and low.

My heart hammered as he pulled my shirt over my head, exposing skin that he claimed with every kiss, every bite, every whispered promise.

His hands were everywhere firm, possessive exploring, claiming, marking.

I gasped when he lowered me back onto the bed, his body pressing down, grounding me in the storm of sensations.

There was an urgency in him, a desperate need that made me tremble.

But beneath it was something softer a fierce protectiveness, like I was the only thing that mattered.

Our breaths mingled, bodies moving together in a rhythm older than time, fierce and tender all at once.

Every touch, every sigh, every whispered name pulled us deeper until there was nothing left but us.

When it was over, he held me close, forehead resting against mine, breaths slowing, the fire fading into something warm and steady.

“I’m yours,” he whispered.

And for once, I believed him.

The world felt softer now

the sharp edges of the night softened by the slow rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear.

His arms wrapped around me like a shield,

warm and steady, grounding me in a way words never could.

We lay tangled in silence,

the only sound our breathing uneven, but peaceful.

I traced lazy circles on his chest,

feeling the steady thrum of life beneath my fingertips.

“Did I scare you?” he asked quietly, voice thick with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

I shook my head,

smiling softly.

“No. Not scared. Just… overwhelmed.”

He chuckled low,

nuzzling my hair.

“Me too.”

For the first time, the fierce storm inside him softened

revealing the boy who just wanted to be seen and held.

And in that quiet moment,

I realized maybe we both needed each other’s storms to find peace.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 21: Final Chapter

Sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting golden streaks across his room.

I woke tangled in his arms, the warmth of his body a comforting weight against mine.

Chanyeol’s breath was slow and even, his face peaceful so different from the storm I always expected.

I traced the line of his jaw, marveling at how close we were, how real this felt.

His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine with a softness that made my heart flutter.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice husky but gentle.

“Morning,” I whispered back.

For a while, we just lay there, wrapped in a silence that wasn’t empty

It was full.

Full of possibility, of fragile trust, of something new.

“About last night…” he started, hesitating.

I shook my head, cutting him off with a small smile.

“We don’t have to have all the answers yet.”

He smiled back, relief washing over his face.

“Good. Because I don’t think I’m ready to let go.”

And neither was I.

[loeyshine]

Through the Window

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: dark romance, thriller, mystery, teen au, boy next door, obsessive love. "If I can't have you, no one else will."

⚠️Trigger warning: emotional manipulation, possessive behavior, blurred consent, psychological isolation.

Description: they say I’m weird yet you came into my life, it’s a silent chaos. You’re perfect from head to heels and you are mine just mine.

Playlist: her — tyler, the creator

Chapter 1:

Chanyeol POV

They moved in on a Tuesday. I remember because the sky was dull and overcast, and I was watching it from my window like I always do when I'm bored or... thinking too much.

That’s when the truck pulled up.

I wasn’t interested at first. New neighbors come and go. But then I saw her.

Y/N.

She stepped out of the passenger seat, her hair blowing in the wind, lips parted like she was breathing in the world. God, she was beautiful no, unreal. Like someone who didn’t belong on this street or in this world. Her body moved like every step was poetry, her skin glowed in the sunlight that had no business shining that day.

Every boy in the neighborhood noticed. I could hear it already. The whispers. The bets. The dumb laughter from across the street.

But I saw her first.

She walked past my window and didn't even glance. Not once. Just like the rest of the world never looking at me. But she would. Eventually. She’d have to.

That night, I sat in my room with the lights off. Her bedroom window faced mine. She didn’t have curtains yet. She didn’t know the danger.

She didn’t know me.

I watched as she unpacked boxes, danced around her room with music playing too low for me to hear. Her lips moved to lyrics I didn’t know yet but would learn soon enough. Her laugh? Quiet. Faint. Perfect.

I wrote it down.

Day 1: She laughed.

I started memorizing her schedule. When she left for school. When she got home. What hoodie she wore on cold mornings. What snacks she liked from the corner store. I followed her once. Just once.

Okay, three times.

It’s not wrong, I told myself. I’m not hurting anyone. I just need to know her. Understand her. Protect her. She’s not safe here, not with those boys staring at her like she’s something to eat.

They don’t see her like I do.

They don’t love her like I do.

She passed me once walking her little dog down the street. Her arm brushed mine.

She didn’t even look at me.

But I looked at her. And I didn’t stop. Not once.

Day 14: She has a mole on her collarbone. I love it.

She still hasn’t noticed me. Not really. Maybe she’s too sweet. Or maybe I’m too quiet. But she will. I know she will.

Because I’m the only one who sees the real her.

And one day…

She’ll see me too.

Even if I have to make her.

Day 27: She smiled at someone. It wasn’t me.

It was the guy from the corner house the one with the skateboard and the stupid bleached hair. She laughed at something he said and touched his arm. I clenched my fists so hard I left crescent moons in my palms.

But I didn’t say anything. Not yet. I’m patient. I watch. I wait.

She still doesn’t see me.

Day 30: Her curtains are up now.

It’s like she knows. Like she felt my eyes on her and decided to hide.

I’m not mad. I get it. She’s shy. But it’s fine I already know her routines. I still hear her laughter through the thin walls. I still see her when she walks home, head tilted, music in her ears.

But she’s been... restless lately.

Yesterday, she looked around as she stepped out of the house, like she felt someone behind her.

She paused.

She looked straight at my window.

And I froze.

Our eyes didn’t meet mine were hidden in the dark but she stared for a moment too long. The smallest chill ran through me.

She’s starting to notice.

Day 32: She left a light on last night. Bedroom. Dim. Just enough. Like an invitation.

I watched her brush her hair. She was wearing that oversized shirt she stole from her brother’s closet. She looked... safe. Soft. Untouchable.

And then she looked up.

Straight at me.

I flinched back, heart thundering. Did she see me?

No. Couldn’t have. The lights in her room would’ve blocked her view. Still, I didn’t sleep.

I kept hearing it. Her voice in my head.

Who’s there?

Who’s watching me?

Day 35: She knocked on my door.

I didn’t breathe. I didn’t move. I just stood there in the dark hallway, staring at the door as her soft voice called out.

“Hi... um, I’m Y/N. I just moved in next door?”

Silence.

She shifted on her feet.

“I was wondering if you’ve seen anyone… hanging around my window at night? I keep feeling like someone’s watching me.”

My throat tightened. My heart nearly exploded.

She knows.

She knows.

But not about me. Not yet. Not fully. She thinks it’s someone else. Or maybe she’s just scared of the dark.

I wanted to open the door. Tell her I’d protect her. That I’d never let anyone hurt her.

But she’d see it in my eyes. The truth. The obsession.

So I stayed silent. And eventually, she left.

Day 36: She pulled her blinds tighter. Put a chair against her door.

I watched the shadow move under the slit of light. I heard her lock click. Twice.

She’s afraid. Of what, she’s not sure.

But she’s finally thinking about me.

Not by name.

Not by face.

But by feeling.

A presence. A pressure.

A watcher in the dark.

And soon… she’ll know.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2:

Y/N POV

Something’s wrong.

It started small. A chill. A flicker of movement in the corner of my eye. Like I was being watched. Like something was crawling up the back of my neck when I stood near my window.

But I brushed it off. New house, new neighborhood. My mind playing tricks.

Right?

But then I started noticing things.

My curtains weren’t always how I left them. Sometimes the left one was tugged a little more open. My door felt like it shifted slightly at night, like someone pressed their weight against it.

I started locking it.

Double-locking it.

Then there was the notebook.

It was lying at the edge of our trash bin outside. Old. Leather-bound. Someone must’ve thrown it out or maybe it blew in from somewhere else. I don’t know why I picked it up. Curiosity, I guess.

It had a list inside.

Day 1: She laughed.

Day 6: She wore the white tank top again. I watched her for three hours.

Day 10: She touched that guy’s arm. I hate him. I want to make him disappear.

Day 14: Her window was open. Her hair smells like vanilla.

My blood ran cold.

Every page was about me.

Someone had been watching me since the first day we moved in.

Every outfit. Every gesture. Every private moment.

I flipped to the back.

Day 37: She looked right at me. I think she’s starting to feel me. I like it. Fear looks good on her.

I dropped the notebook. My fingers were shaking.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I pulled my blinds shut, turned my phone camera to face the window, recording all night.

The next morning, I checked the footage.

At 2:11 AM, the image glitched and then, in one frame, I saw a face.

Pale. Still. Eyes wide open. Not close, not in the room but outside the window. My second-story window.

I screamed.

I didn’t go to school that day. I couldn’t.

Instead, I sat by the door with a knife in my lap.

Waiting.

Watching.

There was only one person who could’ve done this.

The boy next door.

The one who never spoke. Who never smiled. Always standing in the shadows, like he was part of them. I had barely noticed him at first. Tall. Dark hoodie. Eyes like a wolf behind glass. I don’t even know his name.

But I feel him.

Watching me. Breathing near me.

He’s always there.

I told my mom. She laughed nervously. Said I was being dramatic. “Maybe it’s just one of those neighborhood kids with a crush.”

Crush?

This isn’t a crush.

This is something else.

Something that feels like it wants to possess me. Like it already thinks I belong to it.

And it’s getting closer.

Last night, I heard a voice. Not a whisper. Not in my head. A voice real, low, right outside my window.

“You’re so beautiful when you sleep.”

I didn’t scream. I just... lay frozen.

My window was locked.

But the notebook had said:

“Her lock is weak. One twist and I’ll be inside.”

I’m not safe here.

Not anymore.

And I don’t know what’s worse that he’s watching me…

Or that deep down, part of me is starting to watch him back.

To wonder when he’ll come for me.

To wonder why I’m waiting.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3:

It started with a creak.

Barely audible. The kind of sound your brain wants to write off as the house settling.

But I knew better.

I was sitting on my bed, knees pulled to my chest, every light off except the dim lamp on my desk. My curtains were sealed. The knife I’d been keeping under my pillow for days now was in my lap.

I hadn’t slept.

Not really.

How could I?

Because the voice last night… it wasn’t in my head. And the figure in the video his face I’d recognized it.

My neighbor.

The boy with the haunted eyes. The one who never blinked when we passed each other. The one who stared a second too long.

He had been studying me like art.

And tonight, I knew he was going to come inside.

It was 2:03 AM.

The creak came again.

Then a soft click

I held my breath, staring at my doorknob. It didn’t move. But something had shifted.

Then I heard it.

The window.

Not mine.

The one in the kitchen.

I stood slowly, barefoot, heart slamming against my ribs. I inched toward my bedroom door, pressed my ear against the wood.

Nothing.

But the silence was wrong.

Like someone was holding their breath along with me.

I turned the lock on my door. Gently. As quietly as I could. And then I waited.

Waited for the sound of a step.

The floorboard in the hallway squeaked.

My blood ran cold.

He was here.

I backed up, nearly tripping over the edge of my bed.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t speak.

He just tried the doorknob.

Once. Twice.

And then a voice. Muffled. Rough. Too close.

“Y/N... I didn’t want to scare you.”

His voice was deeper than I imagined. Low and strangely steady.

“But you weren’t seeing me. And I’ve waited. So long.”

My knees gave a little, but I caught myself. Knife in hand.

“Leave,” I said, trying to sound firm, but my voice trembled. “I’ll call the police.”

He laughed.

Laughed.

“I disabled your Wi-Fi an hour ago. Your parents won’t wake up they’re on sleeping pills. I watched them take them. Every night at 10:34.”

My stomach turned. My whole body was shaking now.

He knew. Everything.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said gently. “I just want to be close. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to touch you. To be near you. You were made for me. You just don’t see it yet.”

The doorknob twisted hard.

Wood cracked.

I backed up fast, heart in my throat.

And then—the door flung open.

He stood there, silhouetted in the faint hallway light.

Tall. Dark hoodie. Eyes burning like cold fire.

He smiled.

Like this was a dream come true.

“Y/N,” he whispered, stepping inside.

I raised the knife.

He paused.

Not afraid.

Just... amused.

“You look even more perfect up close.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4:

I screamed.

Or I think I did.

Everything happened so fast. The knife in my hand, his shadow filling the doorway, the sound of my heartbeat louder than his footsteps.

And then darkness.

I jolted up with a gasp.

Light poured through my window.

My room was normal. Safe. Too quiet.

I blinked hard, sweat clinging to my skin, sheets twisted around my legs. My chest rose and fell like I’d run a marathon. My hand flew to my mouth.

My knife was gone.

There was no broken door. No boy in the hall.

Just my empty room.

A dream.

Just a dream.

I sat there for a full minute, staring at the doorknob, half-expecting it to twist again.

Nothing.

The house was still. Sunlight painted soft gold across my carpet. Birds chirped outside like nothing was wrong. Like I hadn’t just dreamed of being hunted.

I got up slowly and checked the window.

Locked.

Then the kitchen.

Locked.

My parents were making coffee downstairs like it was any other morning.

So why did everything still feel wrong?

I told myself it was my anxiety. The move. The isolation. My overactive imagination. Maybe all the crime podcasts had messed with my head.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling. The vividness. The voice. The smell of his hoodie. The sound of his breath. It felt more than real.

I went to the trash bin that afternoon.

The notebook wasn’t there.

Because maybe it never was.

Maybe I made it all up. A nightmare stitched from paranoia and stress.

I told myself I was okay.

I told myself I was safe.

Until that night.

When I went to close my curtains…

I looked across the yard.

His light was on.

My creepy next-door neighbor the one I never really noticed, the one I dreamed about breaking in.

And he was there.

Sitting by his window.

Staring straight at me.

Smiling.

And in his hand… was a notebook.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5:

My mom was too excited.

“I can’t believe the neighbors invited us already!” she gushed, fixing her hair in the mirror. “It’s so rare these days. Such a warm gesture. The Park family, I think.”

My stomach dropped.

Park.

That was his name?

I hadn’t even known it until now.

I tried to stay calm. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe I’d imagined it all. The dream. The face. The notebook. But part of me already knew.

I’d seen him through the window too many times.

He was real.

And tonight, I was walking straight into his house.

Their house was bright. Cozy. Too normal. Warm lights, homey smell of food, polite laughter from the front door.

His mother was sweet, enthusiastic. “Welcome! Come in, come in! I’ve heard so much about you already, Y/N.”

Already?

She led us in, and I scanned the space instinctively.

And there he was.

Him.

Standing near the hallway, hands in his hoodie pockets, gaze locked on me the second I stepped in. He was taller than I remembered. Pale. Eyes unreadable. But that smile the same one from the window crept onto his lips.

“Y/N,” his mother said, “this is my son, Chanyeol.”

He stepped forward.

I froze.

He extended a hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

His voice was just like in the dream. Deep. Calm. Almost... sweet.

I took his hand slowly, bracing myself for something a spark, a jolt, anything but all I felt was heat. His hand was warm. His grip soft. Gentle.

“I’ve seen you around,” he added. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Was it my imagination, or did his eyes flick to the scar on my wrist from where I’d clutched the knife that night?

“Thanks,” I replied, forcing a smile.

He didn’t let go immediately. He held on a second too long, like he wanted me to feel it.

Like he wanted to own the moment.

Dinner was… normal.

Too normal.

He barely spoke. Just sat across from me, quiet, polite. But I could feel his eyes. Like they were crawling under my skin. Watching the way I held my fork. Memorizing the way I drank from my glass.

And when our parents joked about us being the same age, about “hanging out” sometime, his lips twitched again.

“I’d like that,” he said.

I forced a laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

But my mind was racing.

If that was a dream... why did it all feel so real?

The voice. The door. The breath on my window.

And if it wasn’t a dream…

Why did he look at me like he remembered it, too?

After dinner, he walked us to the door.

His mom kissed my cheek, still talking cheerfully.

But Chanyeol leaned close as I stepped onto the porch.

His voice barely a whisper.

“You looked scared that night.”

My heart stopped.

I turned to him slowly.

He smiled, head tilted, eyes glinting under the porch light.

“But you were beautiful.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6:

It didn’t stop after dinner.

If anything, that night opened a door one I hadn’t meant to leave unlocked.

He started appearing.

First in subtle ways.

He passed me in the hallway at school the next day. Didn’t say a word. Just brushed close enough that his shoulder grazed mine.

His fingers tapped twice against his thigh as he passed.

Two knocks.

Like on my bedroom door.

He began sitting near me in the library. Not across from me never direct. But always in my periphery. A table behind. A few rows over. Close enough to feel.

Sometimes he hummed.

The same low, haunting hum I remembered from the dream.

Or was it a dream?

I didn’t know anymore.

My texts glitched one night.

My best friend messaged:

┃ “Who’s the guy who commented that thing on your post?”

I froze.

I hadn’t posted anything recently.

I opened the app.

It was a photo from last week. A group picture at school.

And beneath it, a new comment.

From a private account. No profile pic. No posts.

┃ “You looked cold in this. Should’ve let me keep you warm.”

My hands started to shake. I clicked the username.

No name. Just a black screen.

But the bio read:

┃ 27 nights. One window.

I blocked it.

My heart was pounding, throat tight.

But then I got a new message.

No account attached. No preview.

Just words:

┃ “Blocking me doesn’t make me disappear, Y/N.”

┃ “You already let me in once.”

He wasn’t hiding anymore.

And somehow, no one else noticed.

Not my friends. Not my parents. Not the teachers. Everyone saw Chanyeol as quiet, polite, well-mannered.

But I saw what was underneath.

I saw it in the way he watched me tie my hair back during gym class. In the way he stood too close behind me in the lunch line.

He never touched me.

But it always felt like he had.

Last night, I woke up with a chill.

My room was dark. My body was heavy.

I looked at the window.

And there on the glass was a handprint.

Pressed flat. Too large to be mine.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I ran to the window and threw it open. Looked around. Nothing. No footsteps. No shadows.

Just the wind. And silence.

I was losing my mind. Or maybe I wasn’t.

Because tucked just beneath the sill…

Was a folded note.

In neat handwriting. Slanted. Calm.

┃ “Don’t be afraid of me.

┃ You’re the one who pulled me in.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7:

I should hate him.

Everything about this is wrong.

He’s invaded my space. Watched me like I’m prey. Stalked me, whispered through my walls, left messages like fingerprints on my brain.

But then why can’t I stop looking back?

Why do I wait for him?

I found myself standing at the window again last night.

No lights. Curtains parted. Waiting.

And like clockwork he was there.

Outside. Across the yard. Barely lit by the streetlamp. Just watching.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t wave.

But somehow, I felt the heat in his stare all the way through the glass.

And the worst part?

I didn’t shut the curtains.

I see him in my dreams now, too.

But he’s different there.

He’s softer.

His voice is a whisper in my ear. His fingers trail my skin. He says things I shouldn’t want to hear but I do. I wake up breathless. Shaken. Twisted in my sheets.

Did he put these dreams in my head?

Or were they always there?

I tried to ignore it. I tried to flirt with a boy from class. Someone safe. Normal.

He asked me to hang out.

But before I could say yes, a message appeared on my phone:

┃ “You don’t need him. He doesn’t see you like I do.”

No name. No number.

My stomach dropped.

He was watching.

Again.

And I didn’t stop it.

I just deleted the message and said no.

I passed Chanyeol in the hallway later that day.

He looked at me.

Not like a stranger.

Not like a boy next door.

Like someone who knew every inch of my silence.

He leaned in just slightly as we passed, voice brushing my skin like static:

“You dream about me too, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

Because the truth was starting to feel heavier than fear.

Because maybe...

Yes.

That night, I found another note.

Folded under my pillow.

No one had come into my room.

But it was there.

In the same slanted writing:

┃ “You can lie to yourself all you want, Y/N.

┃ But I already live in your head.

┃ And soon, I’ll live in your bed.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8:

I didn’t plan it.

Or maybe I did.

Maybe I’d been planning it ever since I opened the curtains instead of closing them.

Since I looked him in the eye that first night and didn’t scream.

It was past midnight.

The house was quiet parents asleep, dog curled at the foot of the stairs. The kind of stillness where even your heartbeat feels loud.

I sat on the edge of my bed, phone off, lamp dimmed.

Window open.

Just a crack.

The air was cold. It licked at my skin like a warning.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

I just waited.

At 12:17, I heard it.

One knock. Soft. On the glass.

I turned my head slowly.

He was there.

Chanyeol.

Standing in the shadows, hoodie pulled over his head, but I’d know those eyes anywhere. Bright and burning and locked on mine.

He didn’t smile this time.

He just… waited.

Waited for me to decide.

I stood up.

Walked to the window.

Hands trembling but not with fear.

Not anymore.

I looked at him through the glass.

Then I unlocked it.

And slid it open.

Just wide enough for him to climb through.

He didn’t ask.

He didn’t hesitate.

He moved like he’d done it before. Like he belonged here. Like this moment was just the next step in a game I’d already agreed to.

And when he stood in my room, tall and quiet, I didn’t run.

I just whispered, “Why me?”

His eyes drank me in.

Like he’d been starving.

“I told you,” he said. “You let me in the first time you left your window open.”

I swallowed hard. “Was it ever just a dream?”

He stepped closer.

“No. But it made you curious, didn’t it?”

He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and I didn’t flinch. I hated how warm his fingers felt. How slow he moved, like he had all the time in the world to learn me.

“You were scared at first,” he murmured. “But not anymore.”

“Maybe I still am.”

“You wouldn’t have opened the window if you were.”

He leaned in.

Our faces inches apart.

He smelled like night cool air, faint cologne, danger wrapped in silk.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N,” he whispered.

“But I will if someone else touches what’s mine.”

I shivered.

Not from cold.

From the way my heart didn’t protest.

From the way part of me whispered, Let him.

He sat on the edge of my bed like he’d always belonged there.

I stood, frozen, breath shallow.

And then he patted the space beside him.

I don’t know why I did it.

I don’t know if it was the silence. The obsession. The loneliness.

But I sat down.

Right next to him.

We sat in silence for a long time.

My room felt like a dream again still and tense, the air thick with something I didn’t want to name. His hoodie brushed against my bare arm. I should’ve pulled away.

But I didn’t.

Not yet.

Because I needed answers.

Because I let him in, and now I needed to understand why.

I turned toward him, voice low.

“Why me?”

He didn’t blink. He looked calm. Too calm.

“You know why.”

“No,” I said firmly, heart thudding. “I want you to say it. All of it. From the beginning.”

He tilted his head, considering.

Then: “The first night I saw you… you weren’t even looking. You stepped out of the car. And you smiled at your mom like nothing else existed. You didn’t know anyone was watching. You were just you.”

His voice darkened.

“And I knew I had to keep that. That version of you. The one before the world sinks its claws in.”

I stared.

“You watched me since that night.”

“Every night,” he admitted. “You left your window open the second day. You wore that navy tank top. You danced while unpacking boxes. You sang with your headphones in. You weren’t careful, Y/N.”

“You shouldn’t have been watching.”

“But you never closed the curtains,” he said, eyes sharpening. “You let me see you.”

My breath hitched.

“Is that how you justify it? That I... asked for it?”

He smirked. “No. I would’ve watched either way. But deep down, you didn’t stop me. You felt me there. Even before you saw me. And now look where we are.”

I stood up, voice shaking.

“You don’t get to pretend this is some twisted love story.”

“But it is,” he said quietly. “Isn’t it?”

He rose to his feet too. His height swallowed the space between us.

“You think I don’t know what those dreams did to you? You think I can’t see it in your eyes how part of you liked it? The fear, the attention, the pull. You’ve been mine since the first night you woke up sweating with my name in your head.”

I swallowed hard. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he whispered. “But you still let me in.”

Silence.

He was right.

God help me he was right.

I had opened the window.

I had waited.

He stepped closer again, and this time, I put a hand on his chest.

To stop him.

Or maybe just to feel that he was real.

I didn’t know anymore.

“Tell me one thing,” I said, voice shaking. “Would you have stopped? If I’d never looked back?”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“No.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 9:

After that night, everything changed.

Not publicly.

Not officially.

But we both knew what we were now.

Something sick.

Something secret.

Something I couldn't name.

He didn’t stop coming.

Every few nights, after the lights were out and the house was still, I’d unlock the window like clockwork.

And he’d be there.

No knocking anymore. He didn’t need permission.

He’d climb in silently and sit on the edge of my bed like he belonged there. Sometimes he didn’t speak at all. Just watched me.

His gaze always started at my face.

Then my neck.

Then lower.

Like he was memorizing everything for when I wasn't looking.

At first, I didn’t touch him back.

But I didn’t push him away either.

His fingers would trail up my arm slowly, pausing at the inside of my wrist where my pulse betrayed me.

Once, he pressed his mouth there and whispered, “You’re always racing when I touch you.”

I said nothing.

Because it was true.

He started leaving me notes again.

But they were different now.

More personal. More intimate.

┃ “You sleep with your hand curled near your mouth like you’re afraid of what you’ll say in your dreams.”

┃ “You hum in your sleep when you dream of me. You did last night.”

┃ Your skin tastes like fear and sugar.”

I should’ve told someone.

I should’ve screamed, run, confessed, confessed, confessed.

But I didn’t.

I kept the notes.

I reread them.

Sometimes I traced the ink with my finger before bed.

Once, I asked him, “What do you want from me?”

He looked at me like I was stupid.

“Everything.”

He touched me more boldly now.

Fingers skimming under my sleeve. Over my collarbone. Along the back of my neck. He’d lean in during those silent hours, mouth barely brushing my skin.

“You let me in,” he’d whisper. “You can’t take it back.”

And he was right.

I didn’t want to.

Not when he made me feel like the only girl in the world whose darkness was understood.

But it wasn’t just about me anymore.

Because now there was a secret. Us.

And it was starting to show.

At school, I’d flinch when someone brushed my arm because I was expecting it to be him.

I stopped hanging out after class. I stopped answering texts.

And when another boy laughed too loudly near me, I found a note in my locker that read:

┃ “Don’t let them near you. I don’t like sharing.”

One night, as he laid beside me eyes open in the dark, head resting near mine I asked:

“Are we even real?”

He turned to face me.

His voice was like smoke.

“We’re the only thing that is.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 10:

It started with the dreams.

Only now, they weren’t soft or seductive.

They were violent.

I’d wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, unable to remember where I was my room? His room? Somewhere in between?

In my dreams, he didn’t knock anymore. He didn’t wait.

He would be already inside when I turned around.

Sometimes behind me in the mirror.

Sometimes whispering under the bed.

Sometimes pressing his mouth to my ear and saying, “I want to wear you.”

I woke with bruises on my arms I couldn’t explain.

Nail marks on my thighs.

I stopped asking how.

At school, I stopped feeling real.

People talked to me. Teachers called my name. I responded, smiled, played the part.

But it was like watching someone else live my life.

I started carrying pepper spray in my bag. I never used it.

I kept it like a relic. A tiny, plastic symbol that I could protect myself.

But I didn’t want to use it on him.

I wanted him to stop needing it.

He visited more now.

Sometimes even when my parents were home just for a minute, just to press a note into my hand and vanish through the side door.

His handwriting was changing. Sloppier. Sharper. Like his mind was fraying.

┃ “Don’t forget you’re mine.”

┃ “I saw you smile at him. Don’t do it again.”

┃ “If I can't have you soft, I’ll take you raw.”

My reflection started lying.

I'd stare in the mirror and see her blink before I did.

She looked tired. Pretty, but off.

Eyes wide like she was waiting for someone to grab her.

She looked like someone who belonged to him.

Maybe she did.

One night, I tried locking the window again.

I shut it. Latched it. Drew the curtains.

I sat in bed and waited to feel… safe.

I didn’t.

I fell asleep tense.

And woke up at 3:09 AM.

The window was open.

The curtain swayed in the breeze.

And he was sitting on the floor beside my bed, legs crossed, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

Like he’d always been there.

I jolted up, heart slamming.

He smiled softly.

“You locked it this time,” he said. “That hurt me.”

I whispered, “I needed space.”

He leaned forward. His voice dropped like a stone:

“There’s no space without me in it.”

I should’ve screamed.

But instead, I whispered:

“…I know.”

Because I did.

Because it was already too late.

Because he was already under my skin, and now he was crawling into my dreams

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 11:

It wasn’t all fear.

Some nights… it was almost soft.

Like pretending we were normal.

Like pretending he was my boyfriend.

He brought me a milkshake once.

Knocked twice against the window and handed it to me like it was a peace offering. Like the note he left the night before hadn’t said “If I can’t have you, no one will.”

We sat on my floor, sharing it from the same straw, knees brushing in silence.

He watched me lick whipped cream from my lip like it was sacred.

“You’re mine,” he whispered.

“You always say that,” I murmured, voice quiet. “But you never say what we are.”

He tilted his head.

Like he didn’t understand the question.

Or like it hurt him.

That night, he didn’t try to touch me.

Not right away.

We just laid there. My head on his chest, his fingers tracing light circles on my arm.

And for a moment, I closed my eyes and let myself believe it was real.

Not a nightmare.

Not a secret.

Not something that would destroy us both.

“Chanyeol,” I whispered.

“Mm?”

“What are we?”

His breath stilled for a second.

Then resumed.

“I’m yours,” he said. “And you’re mine.”

“No,” I pressed. “I mean—are we… a couple? Are we just playing pretend? Is this just in your head, or did I fall into it too?”

He was quiet for a long time.

Then: “You opened the window, Y/N.”

I stared at the ceiling.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

His arms tightened around me.

Like I might vanish.

Like if he didn’t hold me hard enough, I’d slip back into reality.

“I see you,” he murmured against my hair. “Even when you’re pretending to be someone else. Even when you're smiling for the world and screaming inside.”

“I never told you that,” I whispered.

“You didn’t have to.”

He kissed me then.

Slow. Careful.

Almost like he was asking.

But I didn’t stop him.

I kissed him back.

Because I was tired of being scared.

Because I didn’t know who I was without him anymore.

Because maybe the truth was worse than the lie

That somewhere along the line...

I wanted to be his.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 12:

I don’t remember when it started feeling normal.

Maybe the third or fourth night he stayed until dawn.

Maybe the first time he kissed me like I was his reward.

Maybe when I stopped checking the locks because I wanted him to come in.

He brought me things now.

Little things.

My favorite lip balm that somehow vanished from my bag two weeks ago. A necklace I once complimented in a store window he left it on my pillow with a note that read: “I like it better on you.”

He noticed things no one else did.

Or maybe they noticed, but they didn’t claim me like he did.

And isn’t that what love is?

Possession?

At school, things changed.

Fast.

Boys stopped talking to me. Girls whispered when I passed.

My best friend pulled me aside one afternoon and said, “Are you okay? You’re... different lately. Tired. Pale. Weirdly quiet.”

I told her I was just busy.

She didn’t believe me.

I didn’t care.

I only cared about him.

Sometimes, Chanyeol would show up at school unannounced.

He didn’t go there. But he’d sit outside the gate.

Leaning on his bike. Hood up. Watching.

And when I left the building, he’d fall in step behind me. Not beside me.

Behind.

Silent.

Like a shadow.

Like a warning to anyone else watching.

At night, his touches became more possessive.

Kisses deeper. Hands firmer. Holding me like he was afraid I’d disappear mid-sentence.

Sometimes he’d grip my wrist and whisper, “Don’t ever do that again,” after I mentioned laughing with someone in class.

Sometimes I’d apologize.

Sometimes I didn’t know why.

One night, I asked him, “Would you still want me if I told you to stop?”

He stared at me.

Something sharp behind his eyes.

Then he leaned in, lips brushing my ear.

“You won’t.”

I didn’t respond.

Because I wasn’t sure if it was a warning…

Or a promise I’d already made.

He kissed down my neck that night and murmured things like:

┃ “You’re not allowed to leave.”

┃ “No one else can love you like I do.”

┃ “If they touch you, I’ll break their hands.”

And I let him.

Not because I agreed.

But because I was starting to forget how to say no to him.

Or how to mean it when I did.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 13:

It felt wrong from the beginning.

Even if his mother smiled and offered me hot chocolate. Even if their house smelled like fresh linen and candle wax.

Even if I wore clean socks and said “thank you” and pretended I wasn’t sleeping next to someone who had memorized the curve of my spine before I ever learned his name.

He invited me to stay.

Casual. Soft.

“Sleep over,” he said. “My mom likes you.”

That alone felt like a hallucination.

His mother?

The polite, elegant woman who wore pearls and made peach pie?

She smiled when she saw me.

Touched my shoulder and said, “So glad you’re spending time with Chanyeol. He’s... intense. But loyal.”

That word sat heavy in the room.

Loyal.

Like a guard dog.

Or a storm that never moves on.

His room was darker than mine.

Blackout curtains. Worn rug. Books stacked in corners. His desk covered in half-written notes and camera lenses and

I stopped.

There was a framed photo of me.

Not one I gave him. Not one we took together.

Just me. Laughing at something off-frame. Back turned slightly, a hand in my hair.

I said nothing.

He watched me look at it.

And said even less.

That night, we lay side by side in his bed.

His hands didn’t wander.

They clung.

Like I was a secret he finally owned out loud.

He spoke in that soft voice again, the one that felt like velvet dipped in gasoline.

“You look right here,” he murmured. “Like you belong in this bed. In this house. Next to me.”

I whispered, “Does your mom know?”

He chuckled. “She doesn’t need to.”

“But if she did?”

He rolled onto his side and pushed my hair behind my ear.

“She’d just be happy I found someone who finally listens.”

The sheets smelled like him.

Worn-in cologne. Skin. Nights I used to be afraid of.

Now they felt like mine, too.

Sometime after 2 AM, I woke up with his arms around my waist. His breath hot against my neck.

“You’re never going back,” he whispered into the dark.

I didn’t know if it was a question.

Or a command.

Or a promise.

But I didn’t move.

Not even when his grip tightened like a chain.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 14:

I stopped fighting it.

Not because I was too tired.

But because I realized I didn’t want to anymore.

There was a strange peace in surrendering.

Letting the world narrow down to just his room,

his voice,

his hands,

his rules.

It was easier than wondering who I used to be.

Easier than trying to explain why I didn’t want to leave.

At school, I didn’t talk to anyone anymore.

I didn’t need to.

My phone stayed silent most days.

Except for him.

I liked it that way.

I liked knowing that someone was always watching.

That if I ever drifted too far, he’d pull me back.

Even if it hurt.

Especially if it hurt.

Because pain meant he cared.

Right?

He started dressing me.

Nothing obvious just little things.

“Wear the red one today,” he’d say, pressing a soft sweater into my hands.

“I like this necklace. It makes you look mine.”

At first, I resisted.

Now, I wore them like charms.

Like proof that someone saw me really saw me.

And marked me.

I started spending more nights in his room.

His mother never asked questions.

She smiled when she passed by in the mornings, like this was normal. Like I was just another girl in her son’s life.

But I wasn’t.

And we both knew it.

I was the only girl.

He made sure of that.

He kissed differently now.

Slower. Possessive.

Not desperate like before this was deeper. Like he’d claimed his prize and now he was memorizing it.

His hands no longer asked for permission.

Mine didn’t stop them.

One night, I sat on his bed, curled in one of his black hoodies, and whispered:

“Do you think this is love?”

He was sitting at his desk, reading something I’d never see.

He didn’t look up.

He just said:

“I think this is forever.”

That should have scared me.

But all I felt was relief.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 15:

His lips were on my neck,

his fingers under my shirt,

and I didn’t stop him.

Not at first.

Because it felt inevitable

like gravity had finally pulled us to the center.

Like this was where all the nights, all the whispers, all the locked windows had been leading.

It was dark in his room.

The kind of dark that made everything feel secret.

He had me pinned gently beneath him, his hand on my hip, breath warm against my skin as his mouth found mine over and over.

The kiss turned hungry.

My fingers curled in his shirt.

He pulled back just long enough to whisper:

“Tell me to stop, and I will.”

I didn’t say anything.

He kissed down my throat, slow and reverent,

like I was some kind of shrine.

His hand slid under my waistband.

That’s when it shifted.

I froze.

Just a second.

Barely even a breath.

But he felt it.

He always did.

His touch stilled.

His eyes met mine.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, like a tether.

I nodded too fast.

But he didn’t move.

“Y/N,” he said more firmly, “look at me.”

I did.

And just like that

the heat snapped.

Tears started to sting before I could stop them.

Not because of him.

Not because I didn’t want him.

But because I suddenly realized

I wasn’t ready to be that his.

Not yet.

Not when so much of me was still lost in him.

Not when I hadn’t figured out where he ended and I began.

He didn’t ask questions.

Didn’t pressure.

He just pulled me into his arms, kissed my hair, and whispered:

“I’ll wait.”

But even in his embrace, I could feel it

The tension just beneath his skin.

The storm he held back.

Because Chanyeol didn’t wait well.

Not really.

And I had just pulled on a leash he pretended didn’t exist.

He held me longer than usual that night.

No words. No expectations.

Just the steady beat of his heart against my back.

I felt small there, cradled in his arms the same arms that could grip too tight, that could push too far.

But now?

They were soft.

Like a shield.

“Take all the time you need,” he whispered into my hair.

And I believed him.

Because the way he said it wasn’t a promise.

It was a plea.

I turned slowly in his arms, fingertips tracing the line of his jaw.

His eyes were dark, deep pools of something I couldn’t name.

“Are you really okay?” I asked, voice barely more than a breath.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach those eyes.

“I’m learning,” he said.

“But I’m not used to waiting.”

For a moment, the silence between us was heavy like it could snap.

I wanted to ask what happened if I kept pushing him away.

But I was scared of the answer.

Instead, I kissed his palm.

Soft.

Reassuring.

Like a promise that I wasn’t running.

Not yet.

He pulled me close again, this time resting his forehead against mine.

“Y/N,” he murmured, voice rough but gentle.

“I don’t want to hurt you.

But I can’t promise the cracks won’t show.”

I nodded against his chest, heart pounding with the truth of it all.

Because even in the quiet, I could feel the storm waiting waiting for the moment to break free.

And I didn’t know if I was strong enough to hold us both.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 16:

The day Chanyeol walked into school, it felt like the air shifted.

Gone was the scruffy, hoodie-wearing boy who lingered in shadows.

Now, standing in the hallway, he looked… different.

His hair was neatly trimmed, styled just right soft waves brushing his forehead.

His eyes, always sharp, now held a calm confidence that made me catch my breath.

He wore a clean, tailored jacket over a simple white shirt, and even his jeans looked… expensive.

But it wasn’t just his clothes.

It was the way he carried himself like someone who finally believed he belonged.

People stopped talking.

Whispers followed him.

Girls glanced his way, surprised.

And I?

I felt my heart twist.

Because this new Chanyeol was still his intense, magnetic, dangerous but also…

something more.

He caught my gaze from across the hall and smiled.

Not the shadowy, unreadable smile from before this one was softer.

Almost… inviting.

For a moment, I forgot everything else.

The fear. The secrets. The storm beneath his skin.

I just saw him.

And it was enough.

(author note: second part is posted !)

[loeyshine]

The Sundress

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: romance angst, modern au, memories, miscommunication, peace offering, until deaths. “She was like a summer breeze, the sun sparkling unto her porcelain skin”.

Description: holding this piece will be always reminding me to bring back to you. Your scent, presence, smile, and those beautiful eyes.

Playlist: those eyes — new west

erstwhile — 1995

Chapter 1: The Dress

The silence was deafening.

It had been four days since you and Chanyeol last spoke. Four long, stubborn days. The fight wasn’t even about something serious just miscommunication, hurt feelings, and a late reply that spiraled into something uglier than either of you expected.

You missed him. God, you missed him.

You missed the way he always hummed random melodies around you, the way he’d pull you into hugs so big they made your bad days melt away. But your pride kept you from texting first, and you were sure his was doing the same.

Until that evening.

You were in your dorm, lounging in a hoodie and trying to focus on your laptop when there was a knock on your door.

You opened it to find no one just a small, neatly wrapped box on the floor, tied with a dusty rose ribbon. A cream-colored note was attached.

You frowned, heart skipping.

“For the most stubborn girl I know. And the most beautiful. Sorry for being a jerk.

—Your idiot, Chanyeol.”

Inside was a gorgeous mini sundress. White, with delicate lace details and soft ruffles on the straps. It looked like summer and sweetness and you.

You swallowed hard, already blinking back tears.

Before you could even decide whether to cry or scream, you heard footsteps. Chanyeol appeared at the end of the hall, hands in his hoodie pockets, looking like he hadn’t slept properly in days.

His eyes met yours.

“I didn’t know how to say sorry,” he said softly. “So I tried to show it.”

You stared at him. “You think bribing me with pretty clothes will fix things?”

He gave a half-smile. “No. I was hoping you’d let me fix things… while you’re wearing it.”

That cracked something in you.

You stepped forward slowly. “You made me feel ignored.”

“I know,” he said immediately. “And I hate myself for it. I got overwhelmed with practice, but that’s not an excuse. I should’ve told you. Not shut you out.”

You looked down at the dress, then up at him. “You hurt me, Yeol.”

“I know.” He looked down, the way he always did when he was ashamed. “Can I make it up to you?”

You let the silence hang between you for a moment longer before whispering, “You already started.”

His eyes lifted hopeful, soft, so full of you.

You took his hand. “But I’m still keeping the dress.”

He laughed, pulling you into the kind of hug that told you things were okay again.

“I got it in your size,” he whispered into your hair. “Because I never forgot it. Even when I was mad.”

You leaned into him. “Next time, just say sorry before I start planning your funeral in my head.”

He kissed your temple. “Deal.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chaper 2: Sunset and Second Chances

It had been a week since you and Chanyeol made up. Since that night in the hallway with the dress and the apology, things between you had shifted back to soft laughter, shared playlists, and lingering eye contact that said “I missed you” without words.

But tonight felt different.

He texted you early that morning with just two words “Wear it.”

You didn’t even have to ask what he meant.

Now, you stood in front of your mirror, the white sundress hugging you like a whispered promise. It fluttered just above your knees and moved like a daydream. You paired it with strappy sandals and a simple necklace Chanyeol once gave you after a late-night convenience store run.

When you stepped outside, he was waiting by his car, leaning casually against it in a cream button-down and rolled-up sleeves. His eyes lit up the second he saw you.

“Wow,” he breathed. “You look like... a song I haven’t written yet.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “That’s so cheesy.”

“It’s also true,” he said, walking over and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You wore the sundress. I’m honored.”

“Where are we going?” you asked as he opened the passenger door for you.

“You’ll see.”

He drove you out of the city, winding through hills until the skyline disappeared. The road ended at a quiet hilltop field with tall grass, golden under the falling sun. A picnic blanket was already spread out, complete with fairy lights in jars, a small speaker playing soft jazz, and your favorite snacks.

You blinked. “You did all this?”

Chanyeol shrugged with a shy smile. “I had to step up my game. I missed you too much to screw it up again.”

You sat down beside him, the breeze tugging gently at your dress. “You didn’t have to go this far.”

He looked at you like you were the only star he’d ever need. “I wanted to.”

After a few bites of food and playful teasing, he pulled out his guitar from the back of his car. “I wrote something. Wanna hear it?”

You nodded.

He strummed a gentle melody, eyes never leaving yours.

“You wore the dress / And I wore the guilt

But here we are, rebuilding what we built

With sunlight on your skin / And forgiveness in your eyes

This love survives, no matter the fight.”

You blinked quickly, heart full.

When he finished, you didn’t say anything at first. Just reached out, cupped his face, and kissed him like you’d waited all your life to.

And maybe, in some way, you had.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3: When the Wind Turns

You didn’t notice the shift right away.

After your sunset date with Chanyeol, things felt light again. He kept sending you voice memos of silly songs he wrote for your “sundress energy,” and you met up almost every evening grabbing street food, walking aimlessly, laughing like you hadn’t argued at all.

But Jade noticed first.

“You sure everything’s cool with Mina?” she asked one afternoon at the café.

You blinked. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Jade shrugged, stirring her iced coffee. “She gave me a weird vibe yesterday. Like… too interested in Chanyeol.”

You waved her off. “She’s just flirty with everyone.”

Jade gave you a look. “Yeah, but not everyone is dating you.”

It wasn’t long before you noticed it, too.

Mina had always been a bit... dramatic. But lately, it was like she had made it her mission to get under your skin. She’d “accidentally” touch Chanyeol’s arm too much when you were all hanging out, giggle at his every word, and subtly throw shade.

Once, while you were chatting in a group, she smiled sweetly and said, “It’s honestly cute how you let Y/N wear stuff like that around other guys. You’re so confident, Yeol.”

You blinked, stunned, before Chanyeol shut her down with a cool smile. “She can wear anything she wants. I trust her and she looks better in that dress than anyone else ever could.”

Mina laughed awkwardly. “Chill, I was just joking.”

But the damage lingered.

That night, you lay beside Chanyeol on his couch, your head on his chest while his fingers lazily traced patterns on your arm.

“You think Mina’s being weird?” you asked softly.

He stiffened slightly. “You noticed?”

You sat up a little. “Jade thinks she’s trying to get between us.”

Chanyeol let out a tired sigh. “I’ve been trying to ignore it. Didn’t wanna stress you out. But yeah. She’s crossing lines.”

You hesitated. “Should I say something? Or just let her drift away?”

He looked at you for a long second. “You don’t owe anyone your silence, Y/N. Especially someone who disrespects you like that.”

You nodded slowly.

He reached over, tucked your hair behind your ear. “I’m not stupid, you know. I see you. I love you. No one’s gonna change that especially not someone desperate for attention.”

Your heart swelled, but anger still burned low in your chest. You didn’t like being made to feel insecure especially not by someone who called herself your friend.

You leaned closer and whispered, “Let’s make her watch me wear that sundress again. With a red lipstick this time.”

Chanyeol grinned. “You’re dangerous.”

You smiled back. “Only when someone tries to steal what’s mine.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4: The Unraveling

It all came undone at the group dinner.

A casual Friday night, hosted by Baekhyun and full of laughter, food, and the chaotic energy that only your circle of friends could produce. Chanyeol had one arm draped over your shoulder the entire evening, pressing occasional kisses to your temple without thinking twice.

Mina was there, of course. She had shown up in a dress suspiciously similar to yours the sundress Chanyeol had given you. But hers was knockoff stiff, not delicate. Imitation lace instead of embroidered dreams.

You didn’t say a word.

But Jade caught it instantly. She leaned over, whispered, “She’s trying you tonight.”

You just smiled, sipped your drink, and waited.

The conversation turned to relationships, as it often did. Baekhyun was ranting about how dating apps were a scam, and Kai chimed in with a joke about terrible first dates. Then Sehun, ever the instigator, smirked and said:

“Okay, real talk who in this room would you never date and why?”

Groans and fake protests exploded. It was a chaotic dare.

“I’ll go first,” Baekhyun said dramatically. “Jade only because you’d roast me alive.”

“Facts,” she said smugly.

When it came around to Mina, she gave a faux-innocent smile. “Honestly? Y/N. You intimidate people. You’re like, too perfect. If I were a guy, I’d feel like I was dating a magazine cover. It’d just feel fake.”

The room fell quiet for a beat.

You raised a brow. “So… being confident and secure makes me fake?”

Mina blinked. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

Chanyeol cut in, voice calm but icy. “She meant you look too good for me. That’s what she’s been hinting at for weeks.”

You looked at him, surprised. He met your eyes like he’d been holding that in.

Baekhyun blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jade sat forward. “Mina’s been throwing shade at Y/N every time we hang out. You all just haven’t been listening.”

Mina opened her mouth, but Sehun beat her to it.

“I mean, you literally copied her dress tonight.”

More silence.

Mina’s cheeks flushed, but she still smiled, trying to laugh it off. “You guys are reading too much into things. I just admire Y/N’s style.”

Jade smirked. “You admire it so much you mock it when she’s not around. Forgot I was in that group chat?”

Boom.

Mina froze. Chanyeol’s arm tightened around you protectively.

You tilted your head. “Group chat?”

Jade pulled out her phone, but she didn’t need to show it. The damage was done. The energy shifted. Everyone saw it now what you’d seen for weeks.

Mina stood, her smile brittle. “I think I should go.”

No one stopped her.

Later, as the group settled again, Chanyeol turned to you, brushing your hair back gently.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think I just needed to be reminded who’s real.”

He kissed you slow, certain.

“And who’s yours.”

You smirked. “That’s not in question.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Flashback

Chapter 5: The First Time I Saw Her

POV: Chanyeol

It was a Thursday.

I remember because it wasn’t supposed to be anything special. Just another afternoon on campus, earbuds in, hoodie up, mind halfway through a new guitar riff I’d been obsessing over. The sun was out. The breeze was nice. My life was fine.

Then I saw her.

She was walking with two girls one loud, the other lowkey, but she was right in the middle, laughing like she had no idea she could destroy someone just by smiling.

She wore this light blue crop top, jeans that hugged her just right, and white sneakers that made her look like a dream skipping across a sidewalk. Hair loose. Eyes bright. Effortless.

And I froze.

Not literally. I kept walking like a normal person. But inside, something just stopped.

I’d never seen someone look so alive. Like the universe poured sunshine directly into her veins.

She didn’t see me.

I kept expecting her to glance up and catch me staring because I was definitely staring but she was too busy telling some story. Her hands were animated, her eyes wide, and she looked like joy in motion.

I remember thinking, This is how songs start.

And maybe how everything else does, too.

She walked right past me.

Didn’t even know I existed.

But I turned around. Just for one last look. And I whispered, “Please let me run into her again.”

The thing is—

I didn’t know it then, but she was going to turn my world inside out.

And I’d let her.

Over and over again.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6: I’m Sorry, Do I Know You?"

POV: Y/N

It started with a bottle of iced coffee.

Not the metaphorical kind like he was the caffeine that woke up my soul or whatever. I mean literally. I was at the campus café, eyes barely open, waiting for my name to be called when someone suddenly slid a cold drink across the counter toward me.

Not the barista.

Just… a guy. Tall, hoodie, baseball cap. Ridiculously pretty lips.

He smiled.

“You looked tired,” he said, like it was the most normal thing to say to a stranger.

I blinked. “I’m sorry… do I know you?”

He laughed low, a little sheepish, but not embarrassed.

“Not yet.”

Okay, what?

I stepped back slightly, one eyebrow raised, every red flag detector in my brain on high alert. He wasn’t creepy, though. He had this boyish nervous energy, like he hadn’t done this before and wasn’t quite sure what he was doing now.

“You’re Y/N, right?” he asked.

That made me stiffen a little. “Okay, that’s even weirder. How do you know my name?”

He lifted both hands quickly. “I swear I’m not a stalker. I just… saw you around a few times. You’re always with Jade and Sera. You were at Baekhyun’s birthday party, right?”

Oh. That made a little more sense. Campus wasn’t that big. And Baekhyun invited literally everyone and their cousin to that party.

Still.

“I’m Y/N,” I said cautiously. “And you are?”

He smiled, softer now. “Chanyeol.”

His name sounded familiar vaguely. I think I’d heard it through mutual friends. Music major. In a band or something. Tall. Kind of dorky but weirdly charming.

I looked down at the coffee, then back at him.

“You do this for all the girls or just the ones you stalk from across campus?” I teased, half-sarcastic, half-curious.

He laughed again. “Just the ones who don’t know me yet.”

And maybe it was the tiredness, or the caffeine, or the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room but I smiled back.

Just a little.

Maybe even enough to change everything.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7: Not a Date

It wasn’t a date.

At least, that’s what I told myself when I said yes.

“It’s just coffee,” I had said. “It’s not like he asked me out.”

Even though he kind of did.

Even though his eyes twinkled like he already knew I’d say yes.

He picked the place some off-campus café with low lighting, indie music, and way too many books stacked around like props in a student film.

When I walked in, he was already there, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater, two iced americanos on the table like he somehow knew my order.

“You’re punctual,” I said, sitting down across from him.

He grinned. “You’re not. Fashionably five minutes late.”

“I like to keep the mystery alive,” I smirked.

He leaned forward a little. “So… do I still give stalker vibes, or have I earned actual conversation privileges now?”

I pretended to think. “Mmm… the jury’s still out.”

He chuckled, looking down shyly before sipping his drink. I watched the way his fingers tapped the side of the cup like he had a beat stuck in his head. Probably did he was always humming something under his breath.

“So,” I said, “why me?”

He looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you could’ve just walked by and kept your iced coffee to yourself. But you didn’t. Why?”

He blinked. Then shrugged slowly. “Because you looked like someone I’d regret not knowing.”

Oh.

Damn.

I stared at him, unsure what to say. My heart fluttered in that annoying, traitorous way it did when someone said something unexpectedly sweet.

“You’re really smooth for a guy who couldn’t look me in the eye last week,” I teased.

He groaned. “I wasn’t expecting you to talk to me! You were literally glowing and laughing with your friends. I didn’t think you even saw me.”

I tilted my head. “So you planned this whole casual iced coffee ambush to fix that?”

His eyes sparkled. “Is it working?”

It was.

God, it really was.

But I wasn’t going to say that out loud.

Instead, I rolled my eyes playfully. “This is not a date, just so we’re clear.”

He raised his cup in a toast. “Not a date. Got it.”

We clinked cups.

And talked for two hours.

About everything and nothing. About music, bad roommates, midnight cravings, guilty-pleasure movies. He made me laugh really laugh. The kind of laugh that made my chest feel light and full at the same time.

When we finally left, the sun had dipped low, painting the streets in gold and shadow.

He walked me halfway home, hands in his pockets, eyes glancing over at me like he was memorizing the way I moved, the way I talked, the way I felt beside him.

And when we stopped at the corner, he smiled and said, “Still not a date. But I hope there’s another.”

And for the first time in a long time, I actually hoped so too.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8: Just Friends

It was a classic girls’ night.

Messy buns, oversized hoodies, snacks covering every surface, and a playlist bouncing from Doja Cat to old-school EXO because Jade was in one of those moods.

You were lying on your bed, scrolling through your phone while Jade and Sera fought over the last piece of chocolate.

And then of course they brought him up.

“So…” Sera drawled, flopping beside you. “How’s Chanyeol?”

You didn’t even look up. “Fine.”

“Just fine?” Jade grinned. “That boy literally risked caffeine overdose trying to impress you.”

“Please,” you scoffed, “it was one iced coffee.”

“One iced coffee and a picnic date and a song he literally wrote about you,” Sera added, dramatic as ever. “Are you two like… secretly married now, or?”

You laughed, grabbing a pillow and whacking her. “You’re both ridiculous. There’s nothing special going on. We’re just friends.”

“JUST friends?” Jade said, eyebrows raised. “Y/N, the way he looks at you? That man is one heartbeat away from writing a wedding album.”

“He does not—”

“He does,” they both said in unison.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. “You guys are so annoying.”

Sera leaned in, gasping. “Wait do you like him?”

“I mean, yeah, as a person—”

“That is not what we’re asking and you know it.”

You sat up, blushing, clutching your hoodie tighter around you like it could protect you from their chaos. “Look. He’s sweet, and funny, and yeah, okay very attractive. But nothing’s happening. We’re not dating.”

Jade raised a brow. “Yet.”

You threw a chip at her.

“He’s just… Chanyeol,” you muttered. “It’s not that deep.”

The silence that followed was deafening. And then both girls let out synchronized squeals.

“Oh my god, you’re so into him!” Sera yelled.

“I am not!”

“You totally are!”

You tried to hold your ground, but your stupid smile was giving you away. And your friends knew it.

“You literally look like you’re about to write his name in your journal with hearts around it,” Jade smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “Grow up.”

“Make it official, babe,” Sera said, wagging her brows. “Because if you don’t, I might.”

You glared. “Touch him and I’ll throw your straightener in the pool.”

They laughed, and you joined in heart full, cheeks sore, and somewhere in the back of your mind… maybe starting to think this wasn’t just friends after all.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 9: Speak of the Devil

“Okay but picture it,” Jade said, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Y/N in that white sundress the sundress with Chanyeol behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, some summer wind blowing in…”

Sera gasped dramatically. “Stop, that’s so cinematic I could cry.”

You groaned from where you were sprawled on your bed. “You guys are literally writing fanfiction about me at this point.”

Jade pointed at you with a chip. “Girl, don’t lie you’ve imagined it too.”

“I haven’t!” you insisted, cheeks burning. “We’re just friends. Just friends!”

“Friends don’t look at each other like that,” Sera chimed in. “Or write songs. Or buy sundresses, babe.”

Before you could throw another pillow in their faces, your door creaked open.

“Hey, Y/N, I—”

Silence.

All three of you froze.

There, in the doorway, stood Chanyeol holding a bag of takeout with his eyes slightly wide and a suspiciously smug curve to his lips.

“…Did I come at a bad time?” he asked, voice way too innocent.

Your soul left your body.

Sera let out a noise somewhere between a cough and a scream.

Jade grinned like the devil. “Nope. We were just talking about you.”

You looked at her like you were going to commit a crime. “Jade.”

Chanyeol stepped into the room, placing the bag on your desk, eyebrows raised. “What kind of talk?”

Sera leaned over. “The romantic kind.”

“Sera.”

Chanyeol looked at you now, clearly enjoying this. “Romantic, huh?”

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate all of you.”

He sat next to you on the bed, nudging your shoulder. “So… I looked good in your daydream, or just okay?”

You grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the face with it.

Hard.

He laughed, full and unbothered, his cheeks pink but his grin dangerous.

Your friends were shrieking.

“You are never living this down,” Jade wheezed.

Chanyeol leaned in slightly, voice low, teasing, just for you. “For the record… I’ve imagined it too.”

Your heart flipped. Literally flipped. You shoved his arm, but your smile betrayed you.

And right then, in the middle of the chaos and the popcorn and the yelling

You thought,

Maybe we’re not just friends anymore.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 10: Finally

It happened after one of those slow, golden evenings where nothing and everything happened.

You and Chanyeol had taken a walk just because. No plans, no real destination. Just the two of you drifting through quiet streets, talking about everything from dumb childhood fears to favorite sad songs.

By the time you reached your building, the sun was gone, and the sky was that soft navy shade where streetlamps looked like stars.

You stopped at your door, turning to him. “Thanks for walking me.”

He smiled down at you. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time.”

There was a pause.

One of those thick, electric ones.

You could feel it in your stomach how close he was. How his gaze kept dropping to your mouth before darting back up to your eyes. He was trying to be respectful, probably overthinking it. You were, too.

But neither of you moved.

“I… should go,” he said softly.

You nodded.

But neither of you did.

Then, like something invisible snapped, he whispered, “Can I—”

You didn’t wait for him to finish.

You leaned in.

So did he.

The kiss wasn’t perfect his nose bumped yours slightly, your hand reached up too fast but none of that mattered because it was him.

And you.

And it was warm, gentle, slow. The kind of kiss that felt like a secret finally spoken aloud. His hand found the small of your back like it belonged there. You curled your fingers into the edge of his hoodie, anchoring yourself.

When you pulled apart, your foreheads stayed touching.

“Wow,” he breathed.

You laughed under your breath. “Yeah.”

His smile was crooked and wrecked. “Definitely not just friends, huh?”

You shook your head, grinning like a fool. “Not even close.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 11: Something’s Different

You didn’t tell anyone.

Not at first.

There was no dramatic post. No group chat announcement. No fireworks. Just you and Chanyeol walking side by side the next morning same rhythm, same playlist in one earbud, same casual chatter.

But something had shifted.

When your fingers brushed, he didn’t pretend it was nothing.

He reached for your hand.

Laced your fingers together like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it.

Your heart did that fluttering thing again the kind where it felt like it wanted to leap right out of your chest and into his hands.

He glanced at you as you walked past the music building, soft and a little shy. “Still just friends?”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Shut up.”

He laughed.

No one said anything when you both showed up to class together. Or when you sat closer than usual. Or when you shared your hoodie because he forgot his again. But your friends noticed. Oh, they noticed.

It started with Jade giving you a look across the library.

Then Sera caught you smiling at your phone and mouthed, “Who is it?”

You tried to shrug it off, but they weren’t buying it.

Especially not when Chanyeol dropped you off outside your dorm later, kissed your cheek without even thinking about it, and walked off like he hadn’t just completely exposed you.

You didn’t even turn around before your phone buzzed.

Sera:

┃ WHAT WAS THAT

┃ I SAW THAT

┃EXPLAIN. NOW.

Jade:

┃ so when are we double dating or what

You sighed, face in your hands, blushing like an idiot.

And then your phone buzzed again this time from Chanyeol.

Chanyeol:

┃ I like holding your hand.

┃ Can I do it again tomorrow?

You grinned.

Typed back:

┃ Only if you let me wear your hoodie this time.

The dots appeared immediately.

Chanyeol:

┃ Deal.

┃ But fair warning… I kinda want to kiss you again, too.

You stared at the message, heart flipping like it did the night before.

And yeah

Something was definitely different.

But in the best way possible.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 12: Full Circle

The memory faded like the end of a song still lingering in your chest, but quiet now.

Your fingers grazed the soft fabric in the box.

The sundress.

White. Light. Beautiful.

Just like the one your friends had teased you about months ago. The one Jade had jokingly described in her fanfiction-level fantasy about you and Chanyeol. The one he remembered.

And now, after days of silence and tension and hurt... it was here.

His peace offering.

You picked it up carefully, the way you’d hold a fragile apology, and laid it across your lap. A tiny card had been tucked inside the box, written in his messy, unmistakably Chanyeol scrawl:

┃ “For the girl who once said this wasn’t a date.

For every almost-moment I didn’t want to lose.

Let’s stop pretending we’re good at being mad.”

— Chanyeol

Your chest tightened.

You thought about that first iced coffee. That not-a-date walk. The way he kissed you like he’d been waiting through lifetimes.

And then you thought about the argument.

How stupid it had been. How much pride had built walls between you both. How your jealous “friend” had stirred things just enough to fracture what felt unbreakable. And how neither of you had fixed it…

Until now.

You stood up slowly, the sundress still in your hands.

Maybe you weren’t good at being mad.

But you were really, really good at finding your way back to each other.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 13: Yours

The city was quieter than usual. Or maybe it just felt that way.

Because your heart was loud.

You didn’t text him. Didn’t warn him. You just slipped the sundress over your shoulders soft, white, delicate and walked to where you knew he’d be.

He always went to the same bench near the old campus fountain when he needed to think. It was where he wrote lyrics. Where he sent you voice notes. Where he once asked, “Is it okay if I like you a little more than I should?”

And now, it was where he sat hoodie pulled up, earphones dangling, foot tapping with nerves he didn’t know what to do with.

He looked up.

And froze.

You didn’t say anything at first.

Just stood there in the sundress he chose for you his apology wrapped in cotton and meaning.

His breath caught. “You wore it.”

You nodded. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything,” he said quietly. “Especially you.”

The tension broke like glass. You stepped forward, and he stood, already meeting you halfway.

“I’m sorry,” he said, all in a rush. “For the fight. For shutting down. I should’ve come sooner. Should’ve—”

You cut him off with a small, sad smile. “I missed you.”

His eyes softened. “I missed us.”

And just like that, the space between you closed.

His arms slid around your waist like they belonged there. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie like it was home. You looked up, nose brushing his, breath mixing.

And then he kissed you.

A kiss like a promise.

Like starting over.

Like everything you had been everything you still were collapsing into a single, perfect moment.

When he pulled back, foreheads pressed together, he whispered

“You’re still mine, right?”

You smiled.

“I was always yours.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 14: Sundays and Sundresses

Sundays were slow now.

Soft.

Sunlight filtered through cream curtains. You were in the kitchen barefoot, wearing his hoodie and humming something you couldn’t remember the name of. Eggs sizzled quietly in the pan. Coffee brewed in the corner.

And behind you

Strong arms snuck around your waist.

“Morning,” he murmured into your neck, voice still low and sleepy.

You smiled, leaning into him. “Afternoon.”

“Whatever,” he grinned, swaying with you gently. “You didn’t wake me.”

“You looked peaceful,” you teased. “Like a giant baby.”

He gasped. “A sexy giant baby.”

You laughed, elbowing him lightly. He kissed your cheek anyway, resting his chin on your shoulder as he peeked at what you were cooking.

You felt his eyes shift lower. Down to what you were wearing.

“Wait…” he whispered. “Is that…”

You glanced down.

The white sundress.

Still folded neatly in your closet after all this time until today.

You turned to face him, eyes playful. “Thought it was time.”

Chanyeol just stared at you like it was the first time all over again.

And then he kissed you.

Deeper. Slower. Like a man who knew exactly what he had and wasn’t planning on letting go.

“You still take my breath away,” he whispered against your lips.

You smiled.

“Good,” you whispered back. “I plan to keep doing it.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

present — 2024

Chapter 15: What Remains

He saw her again that morning.

In the kitchen.

Barefoot. Humming something off-key. That sundress the white one he bought her, the one she wore that day she forgave him swayed softly around her knees as she danced, just a little, to nothing at all.

And for a moment, everything felt real again.

Like it used to.

“Morning,” he said softly.

She turned, smiling. That smile that used to undo him. “Afternoon.”

His heart ached.

He stepped forward, arms moving out of instinct he wanted to hold her again, just one more time

But there was no one there.

Only silence.

The smell of coffee that never brewed.

An empty apartment that hadn’t heard laughter in months.

And that sundress.

Still hanging on the back of the chair.

He walked toward it, trembling fingers brushing the soft fabric. He still remembered the way it looked on her the way the light had caught in her hair, the way she’d smiled when she wore it for him.

The way she’d worn it that day.

The day of the accident.

People had told him the mind plays tricks. That grief could make ghosts out of memories. But he didn’t care. If seeing her even in pieces was all he had left, he’d take it.

He sat at the table.

Closed his eyes.

And for a moment, she was there again.

Smiling. Laughing. Wearing that dress.

And he whispered, broken and quiet

“You never really left me, did you?”

The sundress swayed slightly in the still air.

And he let the illusion stay.

Just a little longer.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 16: Afterlife in Silence

He stopped answering his friends' calls.

They stopped coming by after a while.

The apartment stayed the same just like it had when she was still here. Her shoes by the door. Her mug still on the counter. The white sundress draped across the chair like it was waiting for her to wear it again.

And every morning, he saw her.

She’d walk into the room, brush her fingers over his shoulder, laugh like windchimes when he burned the toast. Sometimes she’d sing. Sometimes she’d cry.

Sometimes she just looked at him.

And he looked back.

Because he couldn’t let go.

He wouldn’t.

He knew she wasn’t real. Knew what the therapist said grief hallucinations, unresolved trauma, survivor’s guilt. But they didn’t understand. She was more real than any of them. More alive in his memory than anyone walking on the street.

He didn’t go back to the studio. Didn’t write music anymore.

Except for her.

He’d sit at the piano and play the chords of that song the one she used to hum in the shower, the one he never finished. He whispered lyrics into the empty air, hoping she could hear them.

“Stay with me.

Even if you’re only a shadow…”

He stopped visiting the grave. What was the point?

She wasn’t there.

She was here.

In the hallway. In his dreams. In that damn sundress that refused to lose her scent.

And sometimes… sometimes he’d see her standing in the doorway, eyes soft, voice calm.

“Yeol,” she’d whisper. “You have to let me go.”

But he couldn’t.

Because letting her go would mean admitting she was never coming back.

And if he admitted that

He’d have nothing left.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 17: Final Descent; End Part

Days blurred.

Nights became hallucinations, and mornings brought no peace.

The apartment stayed frozen trapped in the exact second she left the world. Her sundress, still soft and white, stayed untouched. The last real thing he had of her.

He stopped eating.

Stopped sleeping.

Because when he closed his eyes, she’d come to him. And in dreams, she was real. Her fingers in his hair. Her laugh echoing in the hallway. Her lips brushing his, whispering, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

He started talking out loud first quiet murmurs, then full conversations.

Sometimes he swore she responded.

She’d sit beside him at the piano, humming harmonies only he could hear. She’d curl up on the couch, watching old dramas with him, even though the screen was black.

And when he cried, she’d hold him.

At least… he believed she did.

No one visited anymore.

His friends had tried Baekhyun, Jongin, even Sehun showed up once. But every time, they left with tight jaws and watery eyes, whispering things like “He’s not okay” and “We’ve lost him too.”

But Chanyeol didn’t need saving.

He had her.

Even if she wasn’t breathing.

Even if she was just a memory.

Even if the only way to stay with her was to fade into the illusion.

And one evening, as the sky turned the same color as her eyes used to in golden hour, he sat by the window with her sundress in his lap.

He looked at it one last time. Then out the window. Then back at nothing.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me,” he whispered.

And in the silence, he heard her say

“Then come with me.”

The sundress fluttered slightly from the open window’s breeze.

And the apartment was still.

POV: Y/N (now a spirit)

You never meant to linger.

Most souls passed peacefully drifting upward or beyond, wherever the light led them. But you… you stayed.

You didn’t feel anger. Or pain.

Just one thing

Him.

Chanyeol.

You watched him from the edge of places doorways, windows, mirrors. He couldn’t always see you, but you knew he felt you. When he whispered to the dark. When he left your favorite songs playing on loop. When he clutched your sundress like it was made of something stronger than grief.

And when he broke.

You felt it like lightning.

You tried to speak. Tried to stop him from crumbling. But the barrier between life and death is cruel, and all you could do was watch as the light in his eyes flickered lower, day by day.

Until, one golden evening… he stopped breathing.

And the stillness was… quiet.

Too quiet.

Then suddenly there he was.

Not broken. Not haunted.

Just him.

The real him.

No more shadows under his eyes. No weight in his shoulders. Just Chanyeol, standing in the place between worlds, looking around

And then he saw you.

You weren’t wearing the sundress anymore.

You were the sundress.

Light. Soft. Glowing like the last day he kissed you.

His eyes filled. “Y/N…”

You smiled. “Took you long enough.”

He ran to you like time never passed. Arms around you like life never ended. You buried your face in his chest and felt his heartbeat again real or not, you didn’t care.

“I waited,” you whispered.

“I never stopped seeing you,” he said.

The afterlife didn’t look like heaven. Or hell. It just looked like home.

And as your souls wrapped around each other, no longer bound by grief, time, or flesh

You finally felt whole again.

Forever.

[loeyshine]

Voices Through Time

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: romance, time-travel mystery, fantasy, past lovers au, different timeline, 90s. “I love you since 1980”.

Description: one telephone takes time to take me to you even though we are drifted aparts for years. You left me, but are we really meant to be?

Playlist: i’ve been waiting for you — las triplets

Chapter 1: The House at the Edge of Time

The train ride was long, stretching endlessly through winding fields and sleepy hills, but you finally arrived at your grandmother’s old countryside home. The house had been untouched for years, creaking with age and filled with the scent of pine and memories. You hadn’t been here since you were a child.

Dust clung to everything as you pushed the door open. A chill brushed over your skin. The house was just as she left it, down to the lace doilies and faded floral wallpaper. You explored, trailing your fingers over antique furniture, until something odd caught your eye in the study an old rotary telephone sitting alone on a small table.

It shouldn’t have been working the phone line had been disconnected years ago. Still, it rang.

You stared at it. It rang again.

Curiosity overrode logic. You picked it up slowly.

“Hello?”

There was silence… then a warm, velvety voice responded.

“…Hello? Who’s this?”

The voice was unfamiliar, male, gentle and confused.

“I… I’m Y/N. I’m visiting my grandma’s house. Who are you?”

A pause.

“This is Park Chanyeol. I live here. You must be joking this house is mine.”

You froze. “That’s impossible.”

“No, what’s impossible is that you’re using this line. It’s connected to my home. No one else is supposed to have this number.”

You blinked. “Chanyeol… what year is it?”

“1980,” he said, cautious.

Your heart stuttered. “It’s 2025 for me.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2: A Voice That Stays

The calls continued. Every evening at the same time, the phone would ring. You and Chanyeol started waiting for each other.

You learned that he was a young musician, living in your grandmother’s house when he was in his early 20s long before she moved in. He loved the guitar, composed songs late at night, and dreamed of a future where he could make music freely. You told him about your world smartphones, EXO, AI, and how the world changed over time. He laughed, fascinated, sometimes teasing you for “making things up.”

But he believed you. Because deep down, he could feel you were real.

You looked forward to the sound of his voice. His laugh. The way he would hum his unfinished songs into the receiver. You recorded them on your phone, promising to keep his music alive.

You told him you wished you could see him.

He told you he sometimes dreamed about you.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3: Time's Cruel Thread

One night, you woke up to static on the phone. It never rang, but something told you to pick it up.

“Y/N…” His voice was breaking up. “I think… this might be our last call.”

Your heart dropped. “What? No, no, don’t say that why?”

“I don’t know. Something’s wrong. It’s like the house is… changing. Maybe the phone’s connection to you is fading.”

“I don’t want this to end,” you whispered, choking back tears.

“Me neither,” he said softly. “But before we say goodbye, I want you to know… you made me believe in magic. You gave me songs I never would’ve written. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

You cried. “I wish I could meet you for real. I wish I could change time.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Maybe one day… in another life, Y/N.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4: The Song You Left Behind

The phone never rang again.

You stayed in the house a while longer. On your last day, while rummaging through the attic, you found something beneath the floorboards: a dusty journal… with your name on it.

Inside were pages of letters you never wrote but he had. Lyrics, too. One melody was the same as a recording you made during one of your calls. Your hands trembled as you realized…

Chanyeol had known you’d find this.

On the final page was a note:

┃If the stars align and music travels beyond time, maybe you’ll hear me again. Until then, sing my song, Y/N. That way, I’ll always be with you.

┃ Chanyeol, 1999

Back in the city, months later, you heard a busker playing a familiar melody the one Chanyeol hummed. He said it was an old tune he found online, no known artist.

You smiled.

He kept his promise.

Through time, through memory, through music he stayed.

And somehow, you knew…

He was still listening.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5: If Time Has a Door

Weeks passed since you returned home, but your heart stayed in that old countryside house and with the voice that belonged to another time.

The melody Chanyeol left behind echoed in your dreams, like a memory that refused to fade. Then one night, as you played the song on your phone, something strange happened. The lights flickered. The air turned heavy. And the old rotary phone the one you took with you as a keepsake rang.

You stared.

It hadn’t made a sound in weeks. Trembling, you picked it up.

“…Y/N?”

You gasped. “Chanyeol?!”

His voice was faint. “I don’t have much time. The connection opened again for a reason. There’s something in the house. A door. It only opens once every 25 years. If you follow the song, you’ll find it.”

Your mind raced. “How? Where?”

He whispered, “Under the attic. Look beneath the journal.”

Then silence.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6: The Passage Between Us

You returned to the house immediately. The moment you stepped inside, the air felt different charged. Like it knew.

In the attic, you pulled back the floorboards again. Under the spot where you found the journal, you uncovered a small latch.

It led to a narrow staircase spiraling downward a secret basement.

The walls were covered with sheet music. His handwriting. Your name.

At the center of the room stood a grand mirror. Its surface shimmered like water when you stepped near it. And the melody his melody played softly from nowhere.

You reached out.

And the mirror pulled you in.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7: 1980

You landed on soft grass under a starlit sky.

The house stood before you newer, untouched by time.

And standing on the porch, guitar in hand, was him.

Chanyeol.

His eyes widened. He dropped the guitar.

“Y/N?”

You ran to him. Neither of you hesitated. He pulled you into his arms, warm and real. You buried your face in his chest, both laughing and crying.

“You’re real,” he whispered, brushing your hair back. “I hoped… I dreamed this, but—”

“I followed your song,” you breathed. “I’m here.”

He held your hand like it was the most sacred thing in the world. “Then I don’t care how. You’re here. And I’m not letting you go.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8: Borrowed Time

Days passed like magic. You and Chanyeol explored the world of 1980 together dusty record shops, secret lakes, quiet cafés. He wrote songs with you beside him. You taught him how to dance like a 2025 TikTok pro. He made you laugh so hard you forgot time even existed.

But eventually, it caught up.

You started hearing the song in the wind again. The mirror would soon reopen… to take you back.

“Stay,” he whispered one night, holding your hand tightly. “Even if time pulls you away, stay a little longer.”

“I want to,” you said. “But I don’t think I get to choose.”

He kissed you for the first time under starlight, with his music playing faintly in the distance.

“I’ll find a way back to you, no matter how long it takes.”

2025, Again

You woke up in the attic, alone but not empty.

The mirror was gone. The phone never rang again.

But on your phone, a new voice recording appeared. It was Chanyeol’s voice, singing your song. The one you wrote together.

You smiled.

And outside the house, a package waited at the door from a music label. Inside: a newly released vinyl record. The artist?

“Park Chanyeol – Echoes of Y/N”

Recorded: Unknown Origin, Possibly Archival

Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was time folding in on itself. But one thing was certain:

He found his way back.

Through music.

Through love.

Through time.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 9: A Name in Dust

Back in 2025, everything felt duller.

You returned to the city with Chanyeol’s songs in your ears and his memory in your heart. Even as time moved forward, a part of you was still in 1980 wrapped in his arms, watching stars blink above the countryside house.

You clung to the vinyl he left behind. It was your proof. He had existed. And more than that he had loved you.

One rainy afternoon, curiosity gnawed at you. You searched for him online. There had to be more records, maybe interviews. Something.

But there wasn’t much.

Just one thread a faded article from 2000, under a local news archive:

┃ “Young Musician Park Chanyeol Passes in Tragic Fire”

┃ April 7, 2000 Park Chanyeol, age 23, perished in a sudden fire that consumed the countryside home he was living in. The cause remains unknown. His final compositions were found intact and have since become a local legend, though his name faded with time…

Your fingers trembled.

The house. That house.

The fire happened less than a year after your last meeting.

You read the article again and again, heart breaking open with each line.

He was gone.

He had always been gone.

You fell to your knees on the floor, clutching the vinyl. The last gift he left you.

Tears blurred your vision.

He knew. He must have known. That’s why he said goodbye like it was final. That’s why he sang that last song like it would echo forever.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 10: The Song Lives On

You returned to the countryside one last time.

The house stood still weathered, quiet, hollow. But in the silence, you heard it: the faintest hum of his song, like the walls remembered him too.

In the garden, you buried a letter.

It read:

┃ I found you too late, but I’ll carry you forever. You weren’t just a voice through time.You were my heart’s echo.

I love you, Chanyeol.

— Y/N

The wind blew softly, brushing your cheeks like fingers.

And you smiled through the tears.

Because love real love doesn’t vanish.

It leaves melodies.

It leaves footprints between lifetimes.

And sometimes…

It lives again.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 11: The Final Ring

It had been months since you discovered the truth.

Chanyeol had died in a fire, his music left behind like ash and gold. And though the grief still curled tightly around your heart, you’d tried to move on piece by piece, song by song.

You stopped expecting the phone to ring.

Until one night… it did.

The same old rotary phone you kept on your desk as a relic of love that once defied time rang again just once.

You froze.

One ring.

You picked it up with shaking hands. “Hello?”

Silence.

Then:

“…Y/N?”

Your breath caught.

“Chanyeol?”

His voice was fainter than ever. Distant. Echoed.

“I don’t have much time,” he whispered. “This is the last call. The time tether is ending.”

Your eyes filled. “I thought you were gone.”

“I am,” he said gently. “But the universe… let me speak to you one more time. I needed to tell you the truth. About why we found each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should ask your mother… about your grandparents. About the house. I think… you’re more connected to me than either of us realized.”

Static crackled.

“Wait Chanyeol, don’t go yet—!”

“I love you, Y/N. And I always will.”

Click.

The line went dead.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 12: Blood in the Roots

You went straight to your mother’s house, heart pounding like thunder in your chest.

She was in the kitchen, surprised to see you so late.

“Mom… can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

You hesitated. “Do you know someone named Park Chanyeol?”

Her expression changed. Like a ghost had passed through her. “Why are you asking?”

“Because… I met him. A long time ago, I think. At grandma’s house.”

She stared at you for a long time.

Then quietly, she pulled out a photo album from a drawer. Flipping through pages, she stopped at one a black-and-white photo. Young faces. The old house in the background.

She pointed.

“That’s him.”

Your breath caught.

Chanyeol.

You traced the image with your fingers. “Who was he?”

She hesitated. “Your grandmother’s… first love.”

“What?”

“They met when she was very young, before she married your grandfather. He lived in that house before she did. He was a musician. She said they were soulmates… but he died young. In a fire.”

You sat down, stunned. “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” your mom said softly. “I didn’t even know his name until I found her letters after she passed. She kept a photo of him hidden in her journal. I think… a part of her never stopped loving him.”

Your heart raced. “But… I talked to him, Mom. *I talked to him.*”

She stared at you, wide-eyed.

You whispered, “He knew me. Loved me. And somehow… he came back for me.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 13: Full Circle

Later that night, you returned to the house. You placed the photo next to the rotary phone.

For the first time, everything made sense.

He wasn’t just a stranger from the past.

He was your grandmother’s lost love.

And somehow by fate, by blood, by something cosmic you had been the one to find him again.

To love him.

To say goodbye for her.

To close the circle.

You picked up the phone one last time, even though it didn’t ring.

You whispered into the silence:

“Thank you for finding me, even across time.

You were her great love… and mine too.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 14: A Year Without Him

It had been one year since the last call.

One year since the voice you loved slipped through time and silence.

And though life continued, part of you had stayed back there with the songs, the letters, the boy in the past.

But you kept your promise to him. You lived.

You graduated college with a degree in literature, your thesis titled “Echoes Between Lifetimes: A Love That Time Forgot.” You were now a published writer, known for weaving love and mystery into stories no one believed could be real stories only you knew were true.

Still, there were quiet nights when you would sit with the old phone, your fingers brushing the dial, heart aching for the voice that once whispered, “I love you.”

You’d stopped expecting magic.

Until it found you again.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 15: The Boy with His Voice

You were walking out of a bookstore café near your new internship, your tote bag filled with draft manuscripts and notebooks. The spring breeze was soft, and a familiar song was playing overhead his melody.

You weren’t watching where you were going. Neither was he.

Thud.

You both stumbled, and your papers flew to the ground.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” he said, crouching to help you gather them.

You froze.

That voice.

You slowly looked up.

And your heart… stopped.

Him.

Same eyes. Same smile. Same way he tucked his lower lip in when he was nervous.

But his hair was shorter now. He wore a denim jacket. No guitar in sight.

And yet you knew. You knew.

“You okay?” he asked, handing you the papers with an easy grin.

You nodded, too stunned to speak.

“I’m Chanmin,” he said. “New editor at the publishing house across the street. I think fate wanted me to run into you. Literally.”

You forced a laugh, your fingers trembling. “I’m… Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He hesitated. “Have we… met before?”

You stared at him, searching his eyes, heart thundering. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

He tilted his head. “Someone important?”

You nodded. “The most important.”

He smiled faintly, like something deep inside him recognized the weight of that.

“Well, if I reminded you of someone beautiful, I’m flattered.”

You smiled, heart aching, burning, hoping.

He handed you the last page. It was one of your short stories the one about a girl who fell in love with a boy through a telephone across time.

His fingers brushed yours.

And in that tiny second, you saw it.

A flicker in his eyes. A flash of memory. Like a chord struck from a song long forgotten.

And he whispered, quietly, like a deja vu

“…Have we ever talked on the phone?”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 16: The Last Melody

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you looked at him this man who was once your ghost, your heartbreak, your time-trapped love now standing in front of you again.

Not as a memory.

Not as a voice.

But as a beginning.

You smiled. “Do you like music?”

He grinned. “I play guitar.”

Of course he did.

“Then maybe,” you said softly, “you’d like to get coffee and talk about our favorite songs.”

And as you walked away side by side, you knew

Love had remembered.

Time had forgiven.

And fate had rewritten your ending.

This wasn’t the past.

This was your forever.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 17: The Song He Never Knew

It had been months since you met again or rather, met him, all over again.

Chanmin. That was his name now.

He was your colleague, your partner in stories, your afternoon coffee, your night-long conversation. You didn’t tell him the truth not yet. You didn’t need to. Some truths find their way home without words.

And he kept surprising you in all the ways only he could.

Like the way he strummed his guitar when he thought no one was listening. Or how he always hummed the same haunting melody while editing a tune that had no name, one you’d only heard once before

His song.

One night, you found him in his apartment, sitting on the floor surrounded by sheets of music and worn-out notebooks.

“I found this old cassette,” he said, holding up a dusty box. “I don’t remember ever recording it. But it sounds like me. And the song… it hurts, in a way I can’t explain.”

He played it.

Your breath caught.

It was your song. The one he left behind in the past. The one only the two of you ever knew.

Tears filled your eyes.

Chanmin stared at the speaker, completely still. Then his hands slowly moved to the guitar.

Without a word, he played along every note perfect.

Like muscle memory from another life.

And when the last chord faded, he looked up at you.

“I don’t know why… but I feel like this song was meant for someone I lost. Someone I promised I’d find again.”

You moved closer, kneeling beside him.

“You did,” you whispered, placing your hand over his heart. “You found her.”

He stared at you, as if seeing you truly seeing you for the first time.

And for a flickering moment…

You saw him too.

Not Chanmin.

But Park Chanyeol.

His eyes softened. “Y/N…”

You smiled through the tears. “Welcome home.”

He pulled you into his arms.

No more phone lines.

No more static.

No more goodbyes.

Just two hearts that had waited across lifetimes…

And finally, found their way back.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Final Chapter: Love, Remembered

Seasons passed quietly. Life returned to its steady rhythm. But this time, you weren’t alone.

Chanmin was by your side. The boy who didn’t remember the lifetimes he once lived but remembered you in every way that mattered.

You never told him everything. You didn’t have to.

Some days, he would catch you staring at the old rotary phone on your shelf.

“You really love vintage things,” he’d tease.

You would smile. “It reminds me of how everything started.”

One night, you gave him a copy of your book Echoes Between Lifetimes. He stayed up all night reading it.

The next morning, his eyes were puffy, red. He didn’t say much. Just held you a little tighter. As if some hidden truth in his soul had stirred… and whispered, this was us.

You married two years later. Not in a grand hall, but in the garden behind your grandmother’s house the place where the past had first whispered to you.

Soft music played. Petals danced in the wind. The same melody from long ago drifted through the air now performed live by Chanmin, who still didn’t know where the song came from.

Only that it felt like home.

As he sang, you looked up at him and thought of the first time you heard his voice on that old phone. The boy from the past. The love lost in flame. The soul reborn into your world.

He wasn’t a ghost anymore.

He was yours fully, finally, forever.

And on your wedding night, as you watched him sleep beneath the moonlight, you leaned close and whispered:

“I found you again.

You came back to me.”

In his sleep, he smiled.

As if some part of him had always known.

But love like this?

It never truly ends.

It simply begins again… in another life.

[loeyshine]

A Dream is a Wish

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: laughter-filled, and tucked away from the public eye, past stories, princess playtime, family gathering. “So this is love... so this is what makes life divine."

Description: a one musical princess melody would make me in a spotlight castle? but being with you, happens i’m safe having the old me.

Playlist: i see the light — mandy moore, zachary levi

Chapter 1:

The soft hum of chatter floated through the house, mixing with the clinking of plates and the sizzling aroma of your family’s signature barbecue. You hadn’t felt this relaxed in months. No flashing cameras, no screaming fans, no tight schedules. Just your family and Chanyeol, who blended into the chaos like he’d always belonged there.

He was on the porch with your older brothers, laughing over a beer and probably getting teased about his height again. You stood in the living room, barefoot and comfy in your oversized hoodie, helping your little niece Mia color on the floor when she suddenly turned to you with the widest eyes.

“Unnie,” she said sweetly, tugging your sleeve. “Can you sing the princess song again? The one from Cinderella? The wish one?”

You blinked, surprised. “You remember that?”

“She watches it like five times a day,” your sister-in-law called from the kitchen with a laugh. “And she swears you sing it better than the movie.”

You smiled, brushing Mia’s bangs out of her eyes. “Alright, princess. Just for you.”

Mia squealed and clapped her hands as you stood and walked over to the old upright piano in the corner of the room. Your fingers hovered above the keys nostalgia flooding in. This piano had seen your very first notes. It was where your musical theatre dreams were born, years before K-pop turned you into a global star.

You glanced outside through the open screen door. Chanyeol’s laughter quieted as he noticed you at the piano. You caught his gaze. He raised an eyebrow, curious.

And then you began.

┃ "A dream is a wish your heart makes..."

Your voice was soft, airy, controlled decades of training hidden beneath every graceful note. You played the melody like second nature, your fingers dancing across the keys as if the piano had missed you, too.

As the second verse came, you heard the subtle hush spread through the house. Your brothers had walked in, leaning against the doorway with soft smiles. Mia sat at your feet, eyes glued to you like she was truly watching a princess.

And Chanyeol?

He stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, eyes fixed on you like he’d never seen you beforelike you were brand new.

You finished the final note gently, letting it float into silence. A second passed before the room erupted in gentle applause. Mia immediately ran up to hug your leg.

“Unnie, you’re like magic,” she whispered.

You laughed and ruffled her hair, cheeks warm with affection.

But it was Chanyeol who crossed the room to you first. He didn’t say anything at first just stared down at you, lips slightly parted, eyes shining with something deeper than pride.

“You didn’t tell me you used to sing like that,” he finally said, his voice a bit huskier than usual.

“I didn’t think it was important anymore,” you replied shyly, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“It’s important to me,” he said, gently tucking that same strand of hair back behind your ear with a fond smile. “That was... breathtaking. You looked like you were home.”

“I am home.”

His hand slid into yours, squeezing gently. “Then I’m glad I’m here with you.”

The family faded into the background for a moment, leaving just you and him in that stillness. You leaned your head against his shoulder, and he kissed the top of your head.

And somewhere below you, Mia whispered to herself in awe

“Someday I’m gonna be just like unnie.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2:

The room was still warm with the remnants of your song, your fingers still resting lightly on the piano keys. Mia had her arms wrapped around your leg, her big eyes blinking up at you with wonder.

“Unnie,” she said quietly, “are you... are you a real princess?”

You blinked, caught off guard, then laughed softly. “What makes you say that?”

“You sing like one,” she said seriously. “And you’re really pretty. And you live in a castle in Korea, right? With all your clothes and lights and people?”

Before you could respond, Chanyeol leaned down next to her, resting his arms on his knees and flashing a mischievous grin. “Of course she’s a princess,” he said. “Didn’t you know? I had to slay a dragon just to date her.”

Mia gasped.

You looked at him, biting back a laugh. “A dragon?”

He winked at you. “A really scary one. Named Sasaeng.”

Your brothers snorted with laughter from the doorway, while Mia stared between you both with complete seriousness. “Then... if unnie is a princess...” she turned slowly to Chanyeol, “does that make you her prince?”

Chanyeol looked at you for approval, and you nodded with a soft smile. He puffed out his chest proudly. “That’s right. Prince Chanyeol. At your service.”

Mia squealed in delight. “I wanna play princess! Can we play, unnie? Pleeease?”

You chuckled, giving in immediately. “Alright, Princess Mia. Let’s go find your crown.”

Fifteen Minutes Later…

You sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, now completely transformed into a royal playroom. A pink towel was tied around Mia’s neck like a cape, and her plastic tiara was slightly crooked on her head. You wore a sparkly headband from the guest room, and Chanyeol oh god had one of your mom’s floral aprons tied around his shoulders like a royal cloak.

“I dub thee... Prince Giant,” Mia declared, tapping Chanyeol’s shoulder with a spatula.

Chanyeol knelt, pretending to bow like a knight. “Thank you, your highness. I shall guard the kingdom with my life.”

You giggled as Mia turned to you. “Princess Y/N, we need to save the unicorns from the evil goblins!”

“Lead the way, brave Princess Mia!” you said, scooping her up and spinning her in the air.

From the hallway, your brother whispered to your mom, “Are they seriously acting out a whole Disney movie right now?”

Your mom just smiled. “Let them be. She hasn’t laughed like this in weeks.”

Back in your makeshift kingdom, Chanyeol was dramatically fighting off invisible goblins with a rolled-up newspaper. Mia shouted directions. You followed her lead like it was second nature.

You weren’t an idol. You weren’t a retired theatre prodigy. You weren’t a superstar.

You were just you singing at the piano, playing on the floor, laughing with your family.

And Chanyeol, your prince, fit right into your fairytale.

Later that night, after Mia had fallen asleep in your arms, Chanyeol tucked a blanket around her tiny frame and whispered, “You were really something back there, Princess.”

You smiled at him, brushing a stray hair from your niece’s forehead. “So were you, Giant Prince.”

He leaned down and kissed you gently, softly. “Let’s have a little princess of our own one day,” he whispered.

You laughed against his chest. “Only if you promise to wear that apron again.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3:

The princess games had ended hours ago. Mia was tucked into bed, the house had quieted down, and the warm orange hue of the evening sun filtered through the curtains. You were curled up on the living room floor, sharing a blanket with Chanyeol, his arm around your shoulder as you both sipped on hot tea.

Your mom walked in with a cardboard box cradled in her arms and a suspiciously proud smile on her face.

“Uh-oh,” you murmured.

“What’s that?” Chanyeol asked, already intrigued.

“Oh, just a few things from Y/N’s old theatre days,” your mom said sweetly as she placed the box in the middle of the room.

You immediately sat up. “Mom no. No, no, no, please—”

But it was too late. She’d already opened the box and pulled out a thick scrapbook bursting with photos, playbills, and glittery stickers. Your brothers heard the commotion and immediately gathered around like sharks smelling blood.

“Is that the Anastasia folder?!” one of them cackled.

“Oppa, hush,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

Chanyeol looked absolutely delighted. “Wait. Anastasia? As in Anya Anastasia?”

“Oh yeah,” your mom beamed, flipping open a scrapbook page. “She was the lead. Our little star.”

You peeked through your fingers in horror as Chanyeol leaned closer to see a photo of you, maybe fifteen years old, in a breathtaking blue gown, tiara slightly askew, with a mic taped to your cheek and stars in your eyes.

He let out a soft laugh not mocking, but genuinely in awe.

“Woah. Y/N... you looked like you were born for that role.”

Your mom giggled. “She was. You should’ve seen her. She’d come home every night humming 'Once Upon a December.’ The director even cried on closing night.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hiding behind the blanket. “Why are we doing this.”

But Chanyeol gently pulled the blanket down from your face, his eyes warm and sincere.

“I love this,” he whispered. “You were... radiant.”

And then your mom, traitor that she was, hit play on an old DVD.

The screen lit up with grainy footage of teenage you standing center stage, snow falling behind you, soft orchestral music playing and then you began to sing.

┃ “Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember...”

Chanyeol watched, captivated. You fidgeted beside him, mortified but unable to look away either. The camera zoomed in slightly your younger self’s eyes shimmering as you sang with heartfelt intensity, your voice already trained and soaring.

┃ “Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember...”

You hugged your knees, face burning. “I can’t believe you’re seeing this.”

Chanyeol leaned his head against yours, still watching the screen. “I’m glad I am. It’s like... watching the girl you used to be fall into the woman you’ve become.”

You went quiet at that.

Your mom gave you both a knowing smile and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

The song ended. Your younger self bowed. The crowd on the video erupted in applause.

Back in the present, Chanyeol finally turned to you with a grin. “You were a real princess.”

You gave him a playful shove, half-laughing, half-dying inside. “Shut up.”

He caught your hand and laced his fingers through yours. “No, really. You’ve always had this magic in you. And I’m... lucky I get to see all the sides of you. Even the sparkly, tiara-wearing theatre kid.”

You groaned dramatically and buried your face in his chest. “I should’ve just shown you my high school math scores instead.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. “Nah. This is way better.”

You sighed, finally relaxing. “You’re gonna bring this up every time we pass a stage, aren’t you?”

Chanyeol grinned. “You know I am. I’m already picturing us doing a duet.”

You lifted your head to stare at him. “Oh no.”

He smirked. “Oh yes.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4:

The next evening came soft and slow, with golden light pouring in through the living room windows. After a long day of games, food, and laughter, the house had finally settled. Mia was down for a nap, your family had scattered to their rooms, and you and Chanyeol found yourselves alone again

this time in the backyard under the string lights your dad had hung for summer nights like these.

You were sitting on the back porch steps, your acoustic guitar in your lap, barefoot, the ends of your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. Chanyeol sat beside you, lazily strumming his own guitar and humming some random EXO melody.

You nudged him with your elbow. “Wanna do something cheesy?”

He looked up with a smirk. “Define cheesy.”

You wiggled your brows. “Disney duet cheesy.”

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes. “No.”

“Come on,” you whined, already shifting to tune your strings. “You literally told me yesterday you wanted to do a duet.”

“I meant like... a cool duet. Something with electric guitars. Not a princess movie.”

“Tangled is cool.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re just trying to relive your theatre days.”

“And you’re afraid to sing a love song with me,” you teased, bumping your shoulder into his.

He scoffed. “Please. I’ve sung full-on ballads in stadiums.”

“Then prove it, Prince Giant,” you challenged, handing him the extra lyrics sheet you’d already printed out. “We’re doing ‘I See the Light.’ You’re Flynn. I’m Rapunzel. No arguments.”

He stared at the paper. Then at you. Then back at the paper.

“You had this ready.”

“I always come prepared.”

Chanyeol let out a long, suffering sigh. “Fine. But if I cry halfway through, it’s your fault.”

You grinned, settling into your spot beside him as you both adjusted your guitars and shared a mic clipped to the small portable stand.

You started the intro, your fingers dancing along the strings gently. A few chords in, your voice entered soft and dreamy:

┃“All those days watching from the windows…”

Chanyeol’s eyes were on you, already lost in the way your voice fit the air so naturally. When his turn came, he joined in without hesitation, his tone deep, warm, and steady

┃“All those years outside looking in…”

As the duet carried on, your voices blended like they were made to. Every chord, every harmony felt like falling into a dream you didn’t want to wake from.

And then came the chorus together

┃ “And at last I see the light…”

┃“And it’s like the fog has lifted…”

Your eyes met as you sang, the string lights above you glowing softly. It wasn’t just a duet anymore. It was a confession. A memory. A moment just for you two.

┃“All at once, everything looks different… now that I see you.”

As the final note faded, the night air felt impossibly still.

Chanyeol didn’t say anything right away. He just stared at you, the corner of his lips curled into the kind of smile that made your chest ache in the best way.

You looked down, cheeks flushed. “Okay, fine. Maybe it was a little cheesy.”

He shook his head, slowly setting his guitar aside. “No. It was perfect.”

You met his eyes again, and suddenly he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back, he whispered, “I’ve sung thousands of songs... but none of them ever felt like that.”

You smiled, brushing his hair back from his face. “That’s because this one was just for us.”

Later that night

you posted a tiny clip of the performance to your private friends-only Instagram story. You didn’t tag him. Just a caption:

🫣🎶 At last, I see the light...

Chanyeol reposted it five minutes later with:

👑💡 Found my princess.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5:

The backyard was quiet now. The guitars were resting on their stands, the tea had long gone cold, and the string lights flickered softly overhead. You were curled into Chanyeol’s side on a cushioned porch bench, your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you like he didn’t ever plan on letting go.

He was tracing slow circles on your arm, both of you half-lost in the kind of peaceful silence that only came when you were wrapped up in each other. The stars above blinked in quiet approval.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured.

Chanyeol pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Same. I think this is the part in the story where the prince and princess live happily ever—”

The screen door creaked.

You both sat up quickly as a tiny voice broke through the night.

“Unnie?”

Mia stood barefoot in the doorway, clutching her bunny plushie, her hair adorably messy from sleep and her voice small.

“I woke up. And you weren’t in the castle,” she said sadly.

You opened your arms instantly, and she rushed into them. “Aww, sweetheart. I’m right here. I was just outside with Prince Giant.”

Chanyeol gave a royal bow from his seat. “Good evening, Princess Mia.”

Mia looked at him very seriously, then at the cozy space between you two on the bench. “Are you two in love?”

You and Chanyeol exchanged a stunned glance, then burst out laughing.

“Yes,” you said honestly, lifting her into your lap. “Very much.”

She beamed and settled herself between the two of you like she belonged there all along. “Can you tell me a royal bedtime story now? Please?”

Chanyeol grinned, eyes gleaming. “Oh, we can definitely do that.”

You wrapped your arms around Mia and leaned your head on Chanyeol’s shoulder again. “Alright, let’s see... Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away...”

“There lived a brave and sparkly princess!” Mia cut in.

“And a very tall, very awkward prince who couldn’t dance but had a beautiful singing voice,” Chanyeol added with a wink at you.

You nodded, continuing, “They met in a forest where the princess was playing the piano, and the prince got lost on his way to a concert.”

“And she saved him,” Mia giggled.

“And then she made him sing Disney songs against his will,” Chanyeol muttered with mock betrayal.

You both laughed as you wrapped Mia tighter in the blanket, rocking her gently as your voices softened with the rhythm of the tale.

“And they fell in love,” you whispered, “not just because of music, or the stage, or the stars... but because they saw each other for who they really were.”

Mia’s eyes were already fluttering shut as she mumbled, “That’s the best story ever.”

A few minutes later, she was fast asleep in your arms, her bunny tucked under her chin.

Chanyeol reached over, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You're really something, you know?”

You smiled, heart full, gazing at the peaceful little girl curled between you. “We’re something. All three of us. It’s a fairytale I never thought I’d live in.”

He leaned forward, kissed your temple, and whispered, “Then let’s keep writing it together.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6:

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a lazy glow over the living room. The scent of pancakes and brewing coffee drifted through the house, mixing with soft chatter and clinking dishes from the kitchen.

You were still in your pajama shorts and oversized tee, hair in a messy bun, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Mia braiding ribbons into your hair like a dedicated royal stylist.

Chanyeol walked in, groggy and adorable, in a hoodie and sweatpants, rubbing his eyes. “Morning, princesses.”

Mia waved a spoon at him. “Prince Giant, come sit! I’m making unnie a ceremonial royal braid.”

Chanyeol plopped down beside you and kissed your cheek. “I feel honored just being here.”

Just then, your oldest brother strolled by, holding a ukulele. “Hey, Y/N. Remember this?”

You blinked. “Oh god, that dusty thing still exists?”

He grinned. “It’s still in tune. Kind of. Wanna jam?”

You raised a brow. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Because it’s 10 a.m. and I’m literally being braided into a medieval braid cage.”

Chanyeol perked up. “Wait, wait. You guys jam together?”

Your second brother entered with a cajón drum from the garage. “Uh, yeah. Our entire childhood was a band rehearsal. Did you think Y/N got all that stage presence from nowhere?”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened. “This is the content I signed up for.”

So just like that, the sleepy living room transformed into an impromptu stage. Mia became the royal audience, sitting cross-legged on a blanket, clapping her hands with excitement. Your brothers tuned their makeshift instruments while you grabbed your acoustic guitar.

You sat down in the center and strummed a few chords, warming up. “Okay... what song?”

Your younger brother grinned. “What about Can’t Help Falling in Love? Classic, easy harmonies.”

You glanced at Chanyeol. “You in?”

He smirked, already grabbing his guitar. “Always.”

And then it began soft, mellow, magical. You started the melody, your voice sweet and nostalgic. Chanyeol joined in perfectly on harmony, his deep tone sending actual chills down your spine. Your brothers backed you both effortlessly, the ukulele and drum giving the whole thing a folksy, acoustic vibe that filled the room with soul.

┃ 🎶 Wise men say... only fools rush in...

┃But I can’t help... falling in love with you...

Mia swayed with her bunny, clapping after every verse.

Your mom poked her head in from the kitchen, eyes sparkling, mouthing don’t stop.

And when you and Chanyeol hit the last note eyes locked, fingers still on strings there was a second of pure silence before your family burst into cheers and whooping.

“You two sound like a whole OST!” your brother shouted.

Your dad even clapped from the hallway, coffee mug in hand. “When’s the album dropping?”

You were laughing too hard to answer. Chanyeol looked dazed in the best way.

“I think I just got adopted,” he whispered to you.

You nudged him playfully. “Only if you survive round two. Next up: ABBA medley.”

His eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”

You grinned. “Oh, Prince Giant... do I look like I’m joking?”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7:

The last morning of your vacation arrived quietly. The house was still, the suitcases by the door half-zipped, and the laughter from the past few days hung in the air like the last note of a song.

You were in the kitchen packing snacks for the drive back to Seoul, when you noticed Chanyeol was nowhere to be seen.

You stepped out into the backyard, still in your hoodie and slippers and that’s when you spotted him.

He was sitting on the patio bench with your dad, both sipping coffee under the soft morning sun.

You paused.

They weren’t talking much. Just sitting there, two quiet, thoughtful men. Then your dad finally said, “She’s always been special, you know. Since the day she was born.”

Chanyeol gave a small, warm smile. “I know.”

Your dad glanced at him. “She doesn’t let just anyone into her world. You being here? With us like this? That means something.”

Chanyeol looked down at his mug, then nodded. “It means everything to me. I never had this growing up. Not like this.”

Your dad smiled. “Well, you do now. We like having you around. Even if you do take the last pancake every time.”

Chanyeol laughed, sheepish. “I swear I didn’t know it was the last one.”

Just then, the screen door creaked open again.

It was Mia, holding something behind her back.

She tiptoed over to Chanyeol, serious and dramatic in the way only a 5-year-old princess could be.

“Prince Giant,” she said solemnly.

Chanyeol knelt down to her level. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

She revealed her gift: a handmade paper crown decorated with stickers, glitter glue, and what looked suspiciously like a sequin from your old dance costume.

“I made this for you. So you won’t forget your royal duties.”

Chanyeol’s eyes softened as he took it carefully, like it was made of gold. “This is the greatest treasure I’ve ever received.”

Mia beamed. “You have to wear it when you miss me, okay?”

He placed it on his head with exaggerated pride. “It shall never leave my royal chambers.”

She giggled and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug. “I love you, Prince Giant.”

He held her close, voice thick with emotion. “I love you too, Princess Mia.”

You stepped forward quietly and slipped your hand into his. “Looks like you’ve officially been knighted into the family.”

He smiled at you, the paper crown still proudly in place. “Best title I’ve ever earned.”

Later, when you finally got into the car, you looked over at him as he buckled his seatbelt. He still had the crown in his lap, carefully protected.

“You’re really keeping it?” you asked.

He turned to you, completely serious. “If you think I’m ever letting this out of my sight, you don’t know how attached I am to my new kingdom.”

You laughed softly, reaching over to hold his hand.

As the car pulled away from your family home, you looked in the rearview mirror your parents and Mia waving from the porch. Your heart swelled with the warmth of belonging.

And Chanyeol?

He leaned his head back against the seat, closed his eyes, and whispered, “Let’s come back here again. Soon.”

You smiled.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8: Final Chapter

Rain tapped gently against the apartment windows, the city outside glowing dim with misty golden streetlights. It was nearly midnight when you heard the soft click of the door unlocking.

You peeked your head out from the bedroom, wearing your comfiest sweatshirt, a sleepy playlist humming softly through the speakers. “Yeol?”

No response.

You tiptoed into the living room and there he was.

Chanyeol had collapsed on the couch, arms spread wide, one foot still wearing a shoe, his bag half-open on the floor.

Fast asleep.

And on his head slightly crooked, slightly crumpled was Mia’s glittery, handcrafted paper crown.

You stared, lips parting in surprise, then slowly broke into a smile that warmed your whole chest.

You walked over quietly, kneeling beside him.

His lashes fluttered slightly, and he murmured, eyes still closed, “Don’t take it off.”

You blinked. “You’re awake?”

“Barely,” he whispered hoarsely. “Had a rough day. I missed home. So… I put it on.”

Your heart cracked open.

“You’re such a softie,” you whispered, brushing his hair gently. “My royal dork.”

He cracked the tiniest grin. “It helps. Makes me feel like I belong somewhere… even when everything’s loud.”

You cupped his cheek, kissed his temple. “You do belong. With me. Always.”

He slowly opened his eyes, heavy-lidded but filled with all the love in the world. “Stay here with me?”

You grabbed the throw blanket from the armrest, gently covered both of you, and curled into his side.

The crown tipped sideways as he leaned his head on yours.

“I love you,” he murmured, drifting again.

“I love you more,” you whispered, fingers laced with his, your other hand carefully straightening the paper crown like it was made of gold.

Somewhere far away, in a little girl’s room, another paper crown sat waiting on a shelf.

But this one creased, worn, and glitter-stained was proof that fairytales don’t end when the credits roll.

Sometimes… they just go to sleep on your couch.

[loeyshine]

Can’t Look Away

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: strangers to lovers, mature relationship, love at first sight, hungry love, “touch me as if it’s the last time”.

Description: his eyes have been spooring you all night and you’re more than primed to sever that restraint he erode like armor.

Playlist: careless whisper — george michael

Chapter 1:

The party is loud, lights flashing red and gold across the rooftop, but Chanyeol only sees you.

You're leaning on the bar, sipping from your drink like you don’t have a single care in the world except you do notice the way his eyes have been tracking you all night. And you’re more than ready to break that self-control he wears like armor.

You walk up to him slowly, hips swaying just enough to make him shift in his seat. His gaze trails down and back up like he’s trying not to look, but failing miserably.

“You're staring,” you tease, setting your drink beside his.

“Maybe I like what I see,” he replies, voice low, almost a growl.

He leans in slightly, expecting you to back off like most girls do when he gets intense. But you don’t. You step closer. Close enough that your hand brushes his chest, fingers toying with the chain around his neck.

“That so?” you whisper, tugging lightly. “Because I haven’t even started yet.”

His breath catches.

There’s a flicker of tension his body going still, his eyes darkening. You’ve got him. The confident, untouchable Chanyeol is suddenly just a man trying not to lose his mind over the way your lips curl up in a smirk.

“Careful,” he murmurs, backing up a step, his voice rough. “You keep looking at me like that, I’m not gonna be responsible for what happens next.”

“Good,” you smile, stepping forward. “That’s exactly what I want.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2:

Chanyeol’s breath is hot against your cheek now, his towering frame caging you in against the cool rooftop railing. The city lights glow behind you, but his eyes never leave yours.

“You’ve got a dangerous mouth, you know that?” he mutters, voice like velvet and smoke.

You smirk. “So do you. What are you going to do about it?”

That’s all it takes.

He closes the distance in a heartbeat one hand gripping your waist, the other sliding up your neck, fingers grazing your jaw with just enough pressure to tilt your head. His lips crash into yours like he’s been starving all night.

God, he tastes like heat and hunger.

His kiss is rough, needy the kind that says he’s been holding back way too long. His hand on your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his chest. You can feel the hard lines of his body under that fitted shirt, every muscle tensing as you press into him.

“You think you’re in control, don’t you,” he breathes into your mouth between kisses.

“I was,” you tease, nipping his bottom lip. “Until you touched me like that.”

He growls an actual growl low in his throat, then lifts you like you weigh nothing, setting you up on the edge of the railing. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, locking him in. His mouth drops to your neck, tracing fire along your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

“I won’t,” you breathe. “I want more.”

His hand slides up your thigh, gripping firmly, possessively. The kiss deepens, messier now—lips parted, tongues teasing, his teeth dragging against yours like he’s trying to memorize how you taste.

You feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching your own erratic pulse.

He pulls back just an inch, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from your kiss.

“This isn’t just a game to me,” he says, voice low and honest. “You don’t get to seduce me and walk away.”

You grin, leaning in close, brushing your lips against his again.

“Who said I was walking away?”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3:

The door barely clicks shut before Chanyeol’s hands are on you again.

His mouth crashes into yours with none of the restraint he had before no teasing, no hesitation. Just pure hunger. He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist like muscle memory, lips still locked as he walks you backward into the suite.

You feel his body moving over yours as he lays you down on the bed, following you down like a man who’s waited way too long. He doesn’t rush no, he takes his time, dragging his lips down your jaw, your neck, his deep voice murmuring against your skin.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he says, breathless. “You started this but now it’s mine to finish.”

His fingers trail down your side, slow and possessive, slipping beneath your top. The heat of his hand against your bare waist makes you arch instinctively.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers against your collarbone.

“I’m not,” you lie, breath hitching.

“Then why,” he growls, “do you feel like fire in my hands?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you dark, disheveled, eyes full of raw want. The way he stares, it’s like he’s seeing every piece of you... and claiming it all.

Then, like a switch flipped, his lips are back on yours urgent now, deeper, hungrier. His body presses into you, fitting perfectly, every movement sparking friction and need.

His voice drops lower, rougher.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

“You,” you gasp. “All of you.”

That’s all he needs.

His shirt’s off in one swift pull broad chest, toned arms, that tattoo peeking near his ribs. You can barely process how stupidly gorgeous he looks in this lighting before he’s tugging your clothes away too, with reverence and fire in every touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “You were made to ruin me.”

And ruin him you do.

Your bodies tangle under the sheets, breathless moans and deep groans filling the room as he finally lets go hands gripping, lips exploring, hips rolling with practiced, devastating rhythm. He gives everything, and demands the same in return. You’re not just touching you’re devouring each other.

Every whisper, every kiss, every press of his body is a promise:

You wanted him? You’ve got him now. Completely.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4:

Sunlight slips between the blinds, casting soft gold across tangled sheets and bare skin. Your body aches in the best way possible as you slowly blink awake, the night’s memories flooding back in waves of heat.

Your limbs are wrapped in warmth, and not just the blanket.

Chanyeol is still there, arm slung across your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck, chest pressed to your back like he never left. His breath is slow, steady, and way too comfortable.

You shift slightly, trying to sit up big mistake.

His grip tightens instantly, pulling you flush against him. You feel everything.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he mumbles, voice deep and gravelly from sleep.

You laugh softly. “Bathroom. Maybe coffee.”

“Mm-mm. No you’re not.”

He pulls the blanket tighter around both of you, nosing into your neck like a giant, possessive heater.

“You’re mine right now,” he says, voice lower. “Bed time isn’t over.”

You wiggle a little in protest. Another mistake.

His hand slips lower, gripping your hip firmly, fingers pressing into the skin he already memorized last night.

“Keep doing that and we won’t leave this bed all day,” he murmurs.

You bite your lip, the heat between your thighs stirring again. You turn slightly to face him and damn. His hair is a tousled mess, lips slightly swollen, eyes half-lidded but dark and focused on you.

“You look proud of yourself,” you tease.

“I am,” he smirks. “You looked good screaming my name.”

Your breath catches. He leans in, slow and deliberate, pressing a lazy, heated kiss to your shoulder.

“Let me make you breakfast,” you whisper.

“I’d rather make you mine again first,” he replies, already trailing kisses down your collarbone.

You try again.

“Okay—but coffee after?”

“You can have your coffee… after you come one more time.”

Your gasp is swallowed by his mouth as he flips you onto your back in one smooth move, lips finding yours again with that same unrelenting hunger.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5:

You barely get a chance to react before Chanyeol’s lips are back on yours slower this time, but no less intense. He’s taking his time, as if savoring every second of your taste, every inch of your body.

He shifts his weight, hovering over you now, his muscular frame blocking out the morning light as he moves down your body, lips trailing like fire.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough from sleep and desire. “I want all of you, every damn part of you.”

Your body shivers under his touch, every nerve on fire. He leaves a trail of soft kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone, his hands sliding down your sides with a maddening slowness. Every touch has you melting, your body begging for more.

“Chanyeol,” you breathe, pulling him closer.

He responds with a low growl, his lips moving to your chest, where he takes his time, tasting and teasing, making you squirm under him. Every touch, every kiss, feels like he’s claiming you again, and again, and again.

He looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands, voice low and commanding.

“I want you,” you gasp, pulling him back to your lips, desperate to feel him closer.

“Good,” he says, his voice thick with need. “Because I’m not stopping until you’ve had all of me.”

His hands slide down your body, cupping your hips, lifting you slightly as he slides back down, settling between your legs. You feel him against you, and the anticipation makes you tremble.

“Chanyeol,” you whisper, but it's all you can get out before he presses his lips to yours again, silencing any further words.

Without another word, he moves between your legs, entering you with a smooth, controlled thrust. He groans into your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours as he starts to move, his pace slow at first, testing the waters, making you feel every inch of him.

“You feel so good,” he mutters against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “So damn good.”

You can’t help but moan, your back arching as his rhythm picks up, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he deepens his movements, his pace relentless and controlled.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “Let go, baby. Let me take you to the edge.”

You don’t need any more encouragement. With one final, hard thrust, he takes you over the edge, your body shuddering beneath him as your walls tighten around him, dragging him with you into the blissful abyss.

For a moment, neither of you move, both of you lost in the overwhelming aftershocks of pleasure. Chanyeol’s forehead rests against yours, both of you panting, catching your breath.

“Damn,” he whispers, his voice rough and hoarse. “That was perfect.”

You smile, breathless, running your fingers through his messy hair, unable to get enough of the feel of him.

“You’re never leaving this bed, are you?” you tease, eyes twinkling with mischief.

He chuckles softly, kissing your forehead gently.

“Not a chance. I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 6:

The room is quiet now, save for the soft sound of your breathing. Chanyeol’s body is still pressed against yours, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as you both slowly calm down from the intense aftermath.

His fingers gently trace circles on your skin soft, lazy caresses, but with a possessive edge, like he can’t bear to let go of you.

“You’re staying here with me,” he mutters, his voice rough and deep, still wrapped in the remnants of desire.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” you tease, running your fingers through his messy hair.

“Good.” He kisses your neck gently. “Because I don’t want you anywhere else.”

You smile at the tenderness in his words, but there's a hunger in his eyes that won't be satisfied by just physical connection. He leans up slowly, pressing his lips to yours, soft and slow, tasting you as if he’s memorizing the feeling of your kiss, making sure you know just how much he wants you, how much he needs you.

“I’m serious, you know,” he says quietly, his forehead resting against yours. “You’ve got all of me now. Every damn part of me.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, there’s a silence between you two. But it's comfortable no pressure, just the unspoken truth of how much he’s falling for you. He doesn’t need to say it, but you know.

“I know,” you whisper back, your hand drifting to his chest. “And you have all of me too.”

Chanyeol shifts, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes never leaving yours. His hand moves gently down your body, tracing your curves with a reverence that makes your heart flutter.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let you go.”

You smile softly, leaning up to kiss him again, slow and tender this time no rush, just an overwhelming sense of connection. He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you like he can’t bear to let you slip away.

“You won’t have to,” you reply against his lips, your heart racing from the intensity in his touch. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time since all of this began, Chanyeol’s intense, fiery persona softens. He lets out a deep breath, his lips pressing to your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

“I need you,” he admits, his voice low but full of honesty. “More than I thought I would. More than I even knew.”

You look up at him, the depth of his words settling between you two. The raw vulnerability in his eyes is something you didn’t expect, and it makes your chest tighten with affection.

“I need you too,” you whisper, tracing his jawline. “In every way.”

He smiles at you genuinely, deeply and the weight of the night lifts, replaced by a sense of calm that makes the air between you both feel charged with new meaning.

Chanyeol pulls you back into his chest, his body warm and protective, holding you close as if he never wants to let go.

“We’ll take this slow,” he says softly, his fingers combing through your hair. “I’m not rushing anything with you.”

“I like that idea,” you murmur, already drifting into the warmth of his embrace. “Let’s just see where this goes.”

For now, in this moment, it’s just you and him no games, no masks. Just a man who’s finally letting his guard down, and a woman who’s all in.

And neither of you want to let go.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 7:

You wake up again this time to the smell of coffee and the soft sound of music playing from the living room. The bed is warm, but empty. A faint grin curls on your lips as you tug the blanket tighter around your bare body.

Moments later, the bedroom door creaks open. And there he is.

Chanyeol. Shirtless. A mug in each hand, loose sweatpants hanging just low enough to distract you completely. His messy hair sticks up in every direction, and that sleepy, cocky smirk spreads across his face the second he sees you awake.

“Miss me already?” he teases, voice rough and low.

“You disappeared,” you pout, propping yourself up on one elbow.

“To make you coffee,” he grins, walking over. “Which I’m now dangerously close to spilling because you look way too good in my sheets.”

He sets the mugs down, then leans over you, bracing himself on one arm while his other hand slides behind your neck, pulling you into a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens. The blanket slips a little. His eyes drop. So does his jaw.

“You're trying to kill me,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Maybe,” you whisper. “Maybe I want you to lose control again.”

His jaw clenches. The tease is working. You can see it.

But then, instead of jumping you again, he does something more dangerous.

He stares at you. Like really stares his gaze trailing over every inch of your face like he’s committing it to memory.

“I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you,” he says quietly, fingers brushing your cheek. “It’s not just the sex. It’s you.”

Your breath catches. He means it. Every word. And you feel it how badly he wants to know everything about you. How obsessed he already is with every little thing you do.

You break the silence with a sly smile.

“So what now, rockstar? You going to write me a love song?”

He grins back, but there’s a flicker of something darker in his gaze possession.

“I already started one,” he admits. “And it’s only going to get dirtier the more I think about last night.”

You choke on your coffee laugh. He snatches the mug from your hand and sets it aside, crawling back on top of you in one fluid motion.

“I was gonna behave,” he says, lips hovering over yours. “But then you smirked at me like that.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m gonna remind you what it feels like to be completely ruined by me.”

And just like that, the morning gets hot again his mouth finding yours, hands sliding under the blanket, your laughter turning into moans all over again.

Because Chanyeol isn’t just obsessed.

He’s yours. And he’s not letting go.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 8:

Later that day, you’re out with him nothing crazy, just a low-key visit to his studio. A few producers, some casual greetings, everyone minding their business. But you know what happened between you two last night. And this morning. And the second time this morning.

And so does he.

He hasn’t stopped smirking since you walked in.

You sit beside him on the studio couch, trying to focus while he plays back tracks. But his hand keeps brushing your thigh. Innocent at first. But it lingers. Fingers tapping. Then trailing up. Slow. Subtle. Maddening.

“Stop it,” you murmur, keeping your smile tight for the others in the room.

“Stop what?” he whispers back, eyes on the screen like he’s not currently driving you insane under the table.

“You know what.”

“I’m just touching my girl. Didn’t know that was a crime.”

His fingers trace the hem of your skirt now. Just a whisper away from making you gasp.

You glare at him. He bites his lip, clearly loving every second of this game.

Minutes later, someone steps out of the room to grab coffee. The door clicks shut.

Without warning, Chanyeol grabs your wrist and pulls you out of your seat, backing you into the far corner of the room behind a soundproof wall, out of view. His body is on yours instantly, hands caging you against the wall, lips brushing your ear.

“You kept looking at me like you wanted more,” he murmurs. “So don’t act surprised now.”

Your breath catches. His knee slides between your legs, pressing you gently but firmly, just enough to make you feel everything.

“You’re the one who keeps teasing,” you whisper, voice shaky.

“Because I love watching you fall apart when you can’t have me,” he growls, lips grazing your jaw. “But baby… the second we get out of here? I’m not holding back.”

His fingers trail up your thigh, ghosting along your skin. You grip his arms tightly, trying to stay upright.

“We’re not alone,” you hiss.

“Exactly,” he smirks. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Then he pulls back with maddening calm, presses a kiss to your cheek like nothing happened, and returns to his seat leaving you breathless, flushed, and ruined from absolutely nothing.

And that look he gives you from across the room?

Pure, dark promise.

Just wait until we’re alone again.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 9:

He thought he had the upper hand.

That smug look on his face? That cocky, deliberate teasing in the studio?

It lit a fire in you.

So when you two finally step into the elevator alone after hours of smirks, touches, and whispered threats you don’t wait. You don’t give him the chance to come at you first.

You press the emergency stop button.

The elevator jerks to a halt.

“What the—?” Chanyeol starts, turning toward you.

But before he can finish, you're on him hands fisting into his shirt, pushing him up against the wall, lips crashing into his with a heat that makes him groan against your mouth.

He barely catches his breath before your hands are roaming sliding under his shirt, nails grazing over abs he’s definitely been flaunting too much lately.

“You think you can tease me all day,” you whisper hotly against his lips, “and I won’t do something about it?”

He swallows hard. The surprise on his face shifts into hunger but not before you see the exact moment he realizes he’s no longer in control.

“You’ve been playing with fire, Yeol,” you murmur, dragging your lips across his jaw, biting gently at the corner of it. “Now burn.”

You drop to your knees.

He sucks in a breath so sharp, it echoes in the tiny space.

“Wait—baby—”

“No,” you smirk up at him. “You don’t get to speak. Not until I say so.”

His hands grip the railing behind him like he needs the support. His head drops back against the elevator wall. You take your time touching, kissing, teasing just like he did to you.

Every noise he makes becomes a win.

Every twitch of his fingers, every ragged breath.

“How’s it feel now?” you whisper, lips brushing the sensitive skin just above his waistband.

“Like hell,” he groans. “In the best damn way.”

You rise slowly, sliding your body against his, pressing him flush to the cold metal. He’s burning now completely wrecked and shaking from nothing more than your touch.

“Still want control?” you tease at his ear.

“Not anymore,” he breathes. “Not when you look at me like that.”

You press one last kiss to his jaw, then finally reach out and restart the elevator.

As the doors open, you glance over your shoulder and smirk.

“Let’s go home,” you say sweetly. “So I can finish what I started.”

He follows quiet, dazed, completely under your spell.

And oh, he’s not getting out of this one.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 10:

The apartment door clicks shut.

You turn to speak to maybe tease him again but you don’t get the chance.

Because Chanyeol slams you against the wall with one hand around your waist, the other braced beside your head, his eyes wild, pupils blown wide with lust and something darker. His chest is heaving, and that pretty mouth of his is no longer smirking.

It’s snarling.

“You think I’m gonna let you get away with that?” he growls, voice low and shaking with restraint.

“What if I do?” you whisper, defiant.

He doesn’t answer.

He devours your mouth, all teeth and tongue and punishment. It’s messy, consuming you feel his frustration, his hunger, his need to take back control. And you let him.

Because you want to see what happens when he snaps.

“On the couch,” he commands, pulling back just enough to speak. “Now.”

You barely make it two steps before he grabs your wrist, spins you, and pushes you onto the cushions, climbing over you with that gorgeous, towering frame. His hands are everywhere now gripping your thighs, sliding under your clothes, yanking them off piece by piece like they offended him.

“You looked so damn smug,” he mutters against your skin, kissing, biting, marking his way down. “All day. Driving me crazy. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

You arch under him, gasping, as his mouth trails between your legs no hesitation, no teasing this time. He devours you like a man starved, holding you down when you try to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“Stay still,” he growls. “You started this. Now take it.”

Your moans echo through the apartment as he works you open with his mouth, fingers, tongue until your mind’s gone and your body’s begging. You clutch the couch cushions, barely able to breathe.

And when he finally moves back up your body, his lips slick, his voice wrecked?

“Now I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

And he does.

With every hard, deep thrust, with the way he whispers filth in your ear, with how he kisses you through it, whispering your name like a promise and a curse all in one. His pace is brutal, precise, and unrelenting pounding into you until your back arches off the couch and all you can do is cry out his name.

He holds you through every wave, chasing his own release only after he’s wrecked you completely. When he finally comes, it’s with a hoarse, desperate moan of your name, his hands gripping your hips like you’re the only thing grounding him to this planet.

Then he collapses against you, breathing hard, arms trembling.

“That,” he pants, “was payback.”

You smile lazily, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“That was insane.”

“You made me insane,” he smirks, nuzzling into your neck. “Do it again, and I swear I’ll tie you to this couch for a week.”

You laugh soft, spent, utterly undone.

And you know this is just the beginning.

You shuffle into the bathroom, skin flushed, muscles deliciously aching, lips still swollen from his kisses. The water’s running hot already, steam curling through the air. You sigh, stepping under the spray, letting it soothe every inch of you.

Eyes closed.

Relaxed.

You don’t hear the door open.

You do feel the cold air when the curtain shifts followed by the heat of a very naked, very revenge-driven Chanyeol stepping in behind you.

“You really thought I was done with you?” his voice is dark silk, low and echoing in the mist.

“I hoped you were tired,” you whisper, without turning around.

“I’m fucking wired,” he growls.

Then his hands are on your hips.

And his mouth God, his mouth is pressing kisses to your shoulder, slow and deliberate, lips burning hotter than the water. You brace yourself against the wall, heart hammering again, breath catching before he even really touches you.

“You look too good in my shower,” he mutters, kissing down your spine. “And after what you pulled earlier… I owe you.”

“I thought we settled that on the couch,” you say, shivering as his fingers slide between your legs from behind.

“That was round two,” he hisses at your ear. “This is me finishing the job.”

You barely have time to moan before he grabs your thigh, lifting it up against the wall, body pressing flush to your back. The water pounds around you both, but all you feel is him hot, heavy, hard, and completely overwhelming.

He moves slow this time. Dangerous slow.

Like he’s savoring every second.

“You wanted to ruin me in that elevator?” he groans, rocking into you with maddening precision. “Fine. Now I’m ruining you in every goddamn room of this apartment.”

You bite your lip to keep from crying out, but it’s useless. The way his hips roll, the way his teeth scrape your neck, the way his hand slips under your chest to hold you close as he drives into you there’s no holding anything back.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again and again. “Mine.”

You lose yourself against the tile, hips bucking into his, body shaking with pleasure that keeps building and breaking in waves. His grip tightens every time you tremble, every time you clench around him like you’re begging for more.

And when he finally breaks moaning your name into your soaked skin, biting your shoulder like he can’t take it you collapse together under the water, tangled and breathless.

The steam fogs up everything.

But nothing blurs the feeling of being completely his.

“Remind me to tease you more often,” you pant, resting your head against the tile.

“Do that,” he growls, brushing soaked hair from your face, “and you’ll never walk straight again.”

You laugh. He kisses you.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, you both know

This isn’t just sex anymore.

It’s war. And love.

And neither of you are surrendering anytime soon.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 11:

You’re out the next day hair in a cap, sunglasses on, hoodie zipped all the way up. Casual. Careful. Low-key. Because the world doesn’t know about you and Chanyeol yet. Not officially.

Not publicly.

But that doesn’t stop the rumors.

You’d barely stepped out of the café when the first camera snapped. Then another. Someone caught your hand with a ring on it . Someone else noticed you stepping into Chanyeol’s car. You don’t think much of it… until your phone starts blowing up.

┃ “Is this you with EXO’s Chanyeol?”

┃ “Are you two dating?”

┃ “What does SM say about this?”

You freeze.

Your heart starts racing.

Then comes the final hit: a post from a fan account a photo of you and Chanyeol in the elevator last week. Close. Intimate. Too much to deny.

You barely have time to react when your phone rings. His name lights up the screen.

“Come to the studio,” he says, voice clipped. “Now.”

When you get there, he’s pacing.

Dark hoodie. Cap pulled low. Jaw clenched. He looks pissed. But not at you.

“Who took that photo?” he growls. “That elevator was private. That should’ve been just ours.”

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “But it’s spreading.”

He walks over, grabs your face in both hands, and presses his forehead to yours.

“I don’t care what they say about me,” he murmurs. “But if they come for you if they try to hurt you I will burn it all down. Do you understand me?”

You nod, heart thudding.

But then you say the one thing you hadn’t meant to:

“What if this ruins you?”

He pulls back, eyes blazing.

“You think I give a damn about the industry if it means hiding you?” he snaps. “Let them talk. Let them hate. I’m not hiding you like some shameful secret. You’re mine.”

You blink, stunned by the fire in his voice.

“And if they want war,” he mutters, pulling you into his chest, “then war’s what they’ll get.”

Later that night, the internet explodes again.

But not with rumors.

With confirmation.

┃ [OFFICIAL POST – CHANYEOL IG]

┃ 📸: a blurry photo of your intertwined hands.

┃ Caption: “Not a secret. Just mine.”

Fans scream. Headlines spiral.

But you?

You’re in his arms as he posts it his lips pressed to your hair, his body wrapped protectively around yours like he’d fight the whole world to keep you safe.

“They know now,” you whisper.

“Good,” he breathes. “Let them watch.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 12:

It’s late.

The apartment is dim, lit only by the soft orange glow from the city outside. You’re curled up on the couch, one of his oversized hoodies hanging off your shoulder, your phone forgotten somewhere between the cushions.

Chanyeol’s quiet. Too quiet.

He’s standing by the window, hands in the pockets of his sweats, shirtless hair a mess, tattoos peeking through the shadows. You watch him for a minute, something in your chest tightening.

“Yeol?” you ask softly. “You okay?”

He doesn’t turn around.

“I don’t know,” he says after a long pause. “I think… I’m scared.”

Your stomach drops.

You get up slowly, crossing the room until you’re standing just behind him.

“Talk to me.”

He exhales hard like he’s been holding something in for days. Maybe longer.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he murmurs. “You walked into my life, and I was just… gone. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. I wanted you in ways I didn’t think were possible, and then suddenly it wasn’t just about wanting you. It was needing you.”

You reach out and touch his back gently.

“Yeol…”

“I used to be good at pretending,” he says, voice low and shaky. “Playing cool. Hiding my feelings. Being the idol everyone expected.”

He finally turns to face you and you nearly gasp.

His eyes are red. Not from anger. From trying not to cry.

“But then you came along,” he whispers, stepping closer. “And suddenly I want to give you everything. Not just the wild parts. Not just the passion. I want you to know the real me. The scared one. The insecure one. The one who’s terrified of losing this losing you.”

Your heart cracks wide open.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” you whisper.

He cups your face in his hands, brows furrowed like he’s begging you to believe him.

“You don’t understand,” he breathes. “This love it’s changing everything. It’s not a game anymore. I don’t care about the music, the fans, the fame not if you’re not in it with me. I’m yours. Every messy, broken, obsessed part of me is yours.”

Tears prick your eyes.

You pull him into a hug tight, grounding, real. And when he clings to you like you’re the only solid thing in his world, you know:

This isn’t lust anymore.

This is love.

Deep, unshakable, dangerous love.

“I love you,” you whisper against his skin.

“I’ve never loved anyone like this,” he breathes back. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

You both stand there for a long time, wrapped in each other, letting the silence speak for everything you don’t have the words for.

And in that moment, the world outside doesn’t matter.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 13:

The drive takes hours.

Up winding mountain roads, past tiny towns and sleepy forests. Chanyeol’s hand never leaves yours on the console. His thumb rubs circles into your skin like he needs to feel you to know you’re real after everything that’s happened.

“Where are we going?” you ask, eyes fluttering closed from the lull of the drive.

“Somewhere no one can find us,” he says simply.

The cabin is quiet.

Stone fireplace. Big windows. A king-sized bed buried in soft blankets. Nothing but the sound of trees and wind and Chanyeol’s soft breathing behind you as he sets your bags down.

You turn to thank him

But he’s already watching you.

And this time, his gaze isn’t hungry or teasing.

It’s in love.

“You look peaceful here,” he says softly.

“It’s the first time I’ve breathed in days.”

“Same.”

He reaches for you, pulling you into his arms as if it’s instinct. Like holding you is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

The rest of the night moves slow.

He builds a fire. You cook ramen. You sit curled up in his hoodie while he lies with his head in your lap, letting you run your fingers through his hair. No music. No phones.

Just warmth. Touch. Presence.

“I don’t want to go back,” you whisper.

“Then we won’t,” he murmurs against your thigh. “Not until we’re ready.”

Later, when you’re both in bed skin on skin under soft sheets he doesn’t initiate anything wild or rough.

He holds you.

Traces your spine. Kisses your temple. Tangles your fingers with his like he’s memorizing the shape of your soul.

“I love you,” he whispers again. “But this time, I want to show you what that really means.”

And the way he moves that night?

It’s reverent. Slow. Like worship.

Not just of your body, but of everything you are to him.

He kisses every part of you, murmuring promises into your skin. Holds you after, even when you’re half asleep, whispering things he’d never say out loud anywhere else.

“You saved me.”

“You’re my home.”

“I’d give up everything… if it meant waking up like this for the rest of my life.”

And when you finally drift off against his chest, he doesn’t sleep.

He just watches you.

Protective. Awed. Completely gone.

You wake up warm.

Not just from the blankets but from the long, hard body wrapped completely around you, his chest pressed against your back, his hand casually splayed over your bare thigh. You shift slightly, and something very not casual presses against you.

“Don’t move unless you’re trying to start something,” he murmurs, voice deep and sleepy.

You laugh softly, stretching.

“I think we’re snowed in,” you say, glancing at the window. The outside is a blanket of white, flakes still drifting past the glass.

“Good,” he yawns. “Means you’re stuck with me.”

You roll over to face him, cheeks still flushed from last night. He’s got that messy morning look: hair everywhere, deep voice, that lazy smile that already spells danger.

“What do you want to do all day?” you ask, innocent.

“You. Definitely you.”

Before you can protest, he tackles you back into the pillows, pinning you beneath him with that wide grin and too much bare skin for your brain to function.

“You’re insatiable,” you gasp, laughing.

“I’ve got 24 hours, no distractions, and the hottest person I’ve ever seen wearing my hoodie with nothing underneath. What did you expect?”

He kisses you slow at first teasing, nipping at your bottom lip. But when you tug on his hair and roll your hips just a little too deliberately?

The playfulness ignites.

He growls, flipping you under him, pinning both your wrists with one hand while the other slips under your hoodie. He licks into your mouth with a groan that vibrates through your chest.

“You gonna behave today?” he asks between kisses.

“Never.”

“Good. I like a challenge.”

You spend the next hour wrapped up in sheets, laughter, and breathless moans bare skin against cold air, his fingers tracing patterns over your body like he has all the time in the world.

And he does.

Because there’s nowhere else to be. No interviews. No staff. No fans. No rules.

Just you and him.

Getting drunk on each other.

At one point, he carries you to the window just to make love against the glass, the snowy forest beyond misting up from your heat. Then it’s back to the bed this time slow and sensual, his forehead pressed to yours, whispering praises with every movement.

“You’re everything.”

“You feel so good.”

“I could live here forever if it means I get to wake up to you.”

You fall asleep again tangled in his arms, exhausted and completely satisfied.

And when you wake up a second time to Chanyeol cooking shirtless in the kitchen, humming one of his songs and stealing glances at you from the stove?

You know the snow isn’t the only thing that’s fallen hard.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 14:

You’re wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot cocoa by the fire when you hear the sliding glass door open.

Chanyeol steps outside into the snow barefoot, steam billowing up around him from the bubbling hot tub just outside the cabin.

“You didn’t tell me there was a jacuzzi,” you call.

He glances over his shoulder with that devastating smirk.

“I didn’t tell you on purpose.”

Then he drops the towel.

Just like that.

Like it’s nothing.

Like he doesn’t just wreck you every time he’s wet and shirtless and grinning like he owns the goddamn world.

You scramble to the bedroom, throwing on the first bikini you packed and when you step out into the cold, he’s already settled into the hot water, arms stretched out across the rim, head tilted back, eyes closed like sin in human form.

“You coming in,” he murmurs without looking, “or just gonna stand there looking like a fantasy?”

You slip into the water and immediately gasp.

Not because of the temperature.

Because of him.

The way he watches you. The steam rising between you. The way he moves closer, lazily, like a predator that’s in no rush because he knows he’s already got you.

“I’ve never seen you look better,” he says, eyes darkening. “And I’ve seen you naked.”

You grin, sliding into his lap like it’s your throne.

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

His hands grip your waist under the water, mouth brushing your ear.

“You’re not walking straight tomorrow. That’s what.”

And then he’s kissing you again wet, slow, with tongues and teeth and a grip so tight on your hips you swear the whole tub shifts. His hands glide under your bikini, finding every spot that makes you melt, while his voice rasps at your neck.

“No cameras. No lights. No noise.”

“Just us,” you pant.

“Just this.”

Steam curls around you, cold air forgotten.

He lifts you slightly, body sliding between your thighs with such practiced need that the water sloshes and your head tilts back in a moan you couldn’t silence if you tried.

“You’re gonna wake the forest,” you whisper.

“Let it listen.”

You lose track of time.

Lose track of how many times he makes you fall apart, only to bring you back with kisses softer than snowfall.

And afterward, when he carries you inside wrapped in a towel, dries your hair with warm fingers, and tucks you into bed with a sleepy laugh?

You don’t just feel loved.

You feel claimed.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 15: Final Chapter

It’s been hours.

You and Chanyeol are finally settled, the fire crackling, soft music in the background. You’re curled up with him on the couch, one of his shirts on and your legs tangled together. The outside world feels like a distant memory, as if the snowstorm outside and the mountains surrounding you could swallow up all your troubles.

But then— knock. Knock. Knock.

It’s sharp. Unsettling.

You both freeze.

Chanyeol’s head whips toward the door, confusion flickering across his features.

“Who the hell could that be?” you murmur, sitting up.

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol says, running a hand through his hair. He stands up slowly, muscles tense as if he can already feel something’s wrong.

He steps toward the door, opening it a crack.

“Can I help you?” His voice is cool, controlled but you hear the tension, the edge beneath the calm.

The person standing there is not who you expected.

It’s not a fan. It’s not the staff.

It’s Jade.

Your best friend.

And she looks completely out of breath wide-eyed, disheveled, like she’s been running for miles in the snow.

“Jade?” you ask, shocked. “What are you how did you—”

“I knew you two were here,” she blurts, voice panicked. “I saw your social media posts. The ring, the comments... I didn’t think it was *real* until now.”

She glances over Chanyeol, eyes darting between him and you. He’s just standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“Wait. You knew?” Chanyeol asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You knew we were here and didn’t say anything?”

Jade lets out a shaky breath, her hands moving as if she’s trying to figure out how to explain herself.

“I didn’t know you were going to be this exposed,” she says, her eyes turning to you. “But the rumors, Y/N… they’re everywhere. People are asking questions. They’re starting to connect the dots about you, about Chanyeol. And I... I had to make sure you were okay.”

You can feel the tension crackling in the air. Chanyeol steps forward, voice low.

“I’ve got this under control,” he says, his eyes narrowing at the intruder.

But Jade looks at him with a flicker of something. Unease. Concern.

“I know you do. But you both need to think about this. Think about what happens when the world really finds out. Because this won’t stay quiet for long.”

The weight of her words hits hard, but it’s Chanyeol’s gaze that pulls you in sharp, protective, a mix of frustration and resolve.

“No one’s taking her from me,” he says firmly, his voice colder now. “I’ve made my choice. She’s mine.”

You step forward, hand reaching for Jade’s arm, your heart racing at the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The world you thought was calm just shifted.

“You should’ve let us have our time,” you say, quietly but firmly. “You’re not helping with this.”

Jade’s face softens, and for a moment, she seems to deflate under the weight of what’s unfolding. But the sharp edge in her voice remains.

“I’m trying to help you before it blows up. You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

And suddenly, everything shifts.

The room seems smaller.

The tension between you and Chanyeol is thick and unspoken. He’s protective, but he’s also angry not at you, but at the world that’s about to invade this small, fragile space you created. The world that’s about to crush what you’ve built.

“You don’t get it,” he says, his voice clipped. “We don’t have to hide anymore. I’m done.”

You look at him, your heart pounding.

“Then we go public?” you ask softly, uncertainty creeping in.

He looks back at you determined, possessive.

“The world can burn. As long as we’re standing together.”

[loeyshine]

Little Cupid

Epoch Book

•*⁀➷pairing: chanyeol x fem reader

Theme: chaotic energy, babysitting au, love between a child, baby love, "No, I like you very much. Just as you are."

Description: in a home of a topsy-turvy filled with noises, crayons, juiceboxes, and paper airplanes was always filled with love to share.

Playlist: put your records on — corrine bailey rae

Chapter 1:

I had just settled on my couch with a cozy blanket and a cup of hot chocolate when my phone rang. I smiled when I saw Chanyeol’s name flashing on the screen.

"Hey, babe," I answered, expecting our usual sweet banter.

"Y/N, help me!" Chanyeol's deep voice was laced with desperation. "I am not built for this. I think I'm losing my mind."

I sat up, alarmed. "Wait, what’s happening? Are you okay?"

"No, I’m not okay. I’m babysitting my nephew, and he’s a menace! He won’t listen to me, he keeps running around, and he just threw his juice box at my head. My head, Y/N!"

I burst out laughing at the mental image. "Oh no, poor you."

"This is not funny," Chanyeol groaned. "Please come over. I need backup."

I sighed dramatically, pretending to consider it. "Hmm… I don’t know. What’s in it for me?"

"My eternal love and gratitude?" he offered quickly.

I laughed again. "Fine, fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes."

When I arrived at Chanyeol’s apartment, the chaos was very real. Toys were scattered everywhere, and his six-year-old nephew, Minjun, was running in circles, pretending to be an airplane. Meanwhile, Chanyeol stood in the middle of the mess, looking completely exhausted.

"Y/N!" he gasped, rushing to me like I was his savior. "You’re here. Thank God."

Minjun suddenly stopped running and turned to look at me. His eyes widened, and his cheeks turned pink. He quickly smoothed down his tiny dinosaur-print sweater and shuffled closer.

"Hi, Y/N noona," he said shyly.

I smiled. "Hi, Minjun! You’re having fun with your uncle, huh?"

Minjun pouted and pointed at Chanyeol. "Uncle Yeol is boring. He won’t let me climb the couch."

Chanyeol groaned. "Because it’s dangerous, Minjun!"

Minjun ignored him and grabbed my hand. "But if you say I can climb it, I’ll listen."

Chanyeol’s jaw dropped. "Wait… what?"

I tried to hide my smile. "Minjun, we shouldn't climb the couch, okay? But we can build a cool pillow fort instead!"

Minjun gasped. "A fort?"

I nodded. "The best one ever."

"Okay! Let's do it!" he cheered.

As I helped Minjun stack pillows and blankets, Chanyeol stared at us in disbelief. He crossed his arms and pouted like a child.

"I told you no climbing, and you ignored me," he muttered. "But Y/N says no, and suddenly you're an angel?"

Minjun shrugged. "Y/N noona is prettier than you."

I giggled, and Chanyeol gasped, holding a hand over his heart. "Betrayal!"

Minjun grinned mischievously. "Noona, do you have a boyfriend?"

I glanced at Chanyeol, who was still fake-pouting, and nodded. "Yes, I do."

Minjun tilted his head. "Who is it?"

I pointed at Chanyeol. "Your uncle."

Minjun gasped dramatically, covering his mouth. Then he turned to Chanyeol, looking heartbroken. "Uncle Yeol… you stole my noona?"

I couldn’t stop laughing, but Chanyeol crouched down and put a hand on Minjun’s tiny shoulder. "Listen, buddy," he said solemnly. "I didn’t steal her. She chose me."

Minjun crossed his arms. "Hmph. If I was taller, I think she would’ve picked me."

Chanyeol threw his hands in the air. "Oh, come on!"

I ruffled Minjun’s hair. "You're adorable, Minjun. But Chanyeol is my favorite."

Minjun sighed dramatically. "Fine. But only because you like him."

Chanyeol smirked, pulling me into his arms. "That’s right. She likes me."

Minjun rolled his eyes. "Ew. Grown-ups are so weird."

Chanyeol chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. "You say that now, but one day, you’ll have a noona crush again."

Minjun gasped. "Never!"

I giggled and patted his head. "Alright, let's finish this fort before bedtime."

As Minjun eagerly started stacking pillows again, Chanyeol leaned in and whispered, "Remind me to always call you when I babysit. You have magical powers."

I grinned. "Not magic just charm."

Chanyeol shook his head with a smitten smile. "And that’s why I love you."

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 2: Operation Bedtime (a.k.a. Mission Impossible)

It had been twenty minutes since Minjun decided I was the only adult worth listening to, and somehow, the pillow fort now looked like a five-star glamping resort. Fairy lights. Blankets draped like royal canopies. Plush toys standing guard like soldiers. The chaos from earlier had transformed into cozy, adorable chaos.

“Okay, Minjun,” I said, fluffing a pillow, “once we crawl inside, it’s officially bedtime. Deal?”

Minjun hesitated, looking at me with big eyes. “Can we have a bedtime story?”

Chanyeol, who had just slumped onto the couch with the expression of a man who had run a marathon, lifted his head. “I offered a bedtime story earlier, and you told me my voice was boring.”

Minjun shrugged. “Noona’s voice is better.”

I tried not to laugh, but Chanyeol gave me a flat look. “You’re literally stealing my thunder in my own house.”

“You love it,” I teased, crawling into the fort beside Minjun.

Chanyeol sighed and crawled in behind me, way too tall for the tiny space. His legs stuck out awkwardly, and he bumped his head on the blanket ceiling twice.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, lying down beside us. “I’ll allow this. But I’m the sound effects guy.”

“Fine,” I grinned. “But only if you commit.”

I picked a book from the small pile beside us and began to read, changing my voice for each character. Chanyeol added over-the-top sound effect whoosh for flying dragons, roarrrr for the villain, and weird squeaky honks that weren’t in the story but made Minjun burst into giggles every time.

“Uncle Yeol, that’s not what a knight sounds like!” Minjun laughed, falling onto my lap.

“I’m giving creative input!” Chanyeol defended, making the “dragon” hiccup this time.

After the story, Minjun rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Can Noona stay ‘til I fall asleep?”

I smiled softly. “Of course, Minjun.”

He curled up between us, one hand in mine, the other holding his favorite plushie. His eyelids drooped slowly, and within minutes, his breathing had softened into tiny sleepy puffs.

Chanyeol looked at him, then looked at me, his expression melting into something warm and quiet. “You’re incredible with him. Seriously.”

I whispered, “He’s just a sweetheart underneath the chaos.”

Chanyeol smiled and leaned closer, kissing my cheek gently. “You’re my secret weapon.”

I turned to face him. “You owe me hot chocolate and a back massage after this.”

He grinned. “Deal. But only if you admit that I was at least a little helpful.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The dragon hiccuping? Peak performance art.”

He chuckled, and we both fell into a soft silence, watching over the sleeping boy between us.

Chanyeol reached over Minjun and took my hand. “Someday,” he whispered, “I think we’d be pretty great at this.”

I looked at him, heart skipping, and smiled. “Someday.”

His thumb brushed mine. “But for now… let’s just survive babysitting.”

“Agreed,” I laughed quietly. “One victory at a time.”

And as we lay there, in a fort built from pillows and patience, with a tiny matchmaker asleep between us, I couldn’t help but think that maybe Minjun wasn’t the chaos. Maybe he was the little spark who reminded us that love even the messy, juice-box-throwing kind was kind of magic after all.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 3: Operation Playdate (aka: Minjun’s Master Plan)

A week later, Chanyeol and I were curled up on his couch again, this time blissfully alone, watching a movie and sharing popcorn. The apartment was clean, peaceful, and most importantly Minjun-free.

“I’m just saying,” Chanyeol murmured, popping popcorn into his mouth, “I haven’t had a juice box thrown at me all week. It’s been nice.”

I giggled. “You miss him, don’t you?”

Chanyeol gave me a look. “…Maybe a little.”

As if summoned by name, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. He reached for it lazily and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s from my sister,” he said, unlocking his screen. “She says Minjun’s been—wait… what?”

I leaned over to peek. Chanyeol turned the phone so I could read the message:

[MINJUN]

┃ Mommy, can I go to Uncle Yeol’s house again?

┃ I want to see Y/N noona!! I can bring snacks and behave!!

┃ I PROMISE no juice throwing 😇

Underneath was a second message from his sister:

┃ He’s been sulking all week. He made a whole plan and even drew it. I’m sending you the photo now.

Sure enough, a second later, Chanyeol received a picture of Minjun’s handwritten master plan, complete with crayon drawings. In the middle was a stick figure of me with hearts around it, a stick-figure Minjun with a flower, and a very large Chanyeol-looking figure labeled “BLOCKER” with a red X on his face.

I gasped, laughing so hard I nearly dropped the popcorn. “He’s plotting against you!”

Chanyeol looked personally offended. “I’ve been demoted to ‘blocker’?! I fed him chicken nuggets, Y/N.”

We both stared at the plan again. There was even a scheduled timeline:

• 3:00 PM – Arrive at Uncle Yeol’s

• 3:02 PM – Hug Y/N noona

• 3:05 PM – Give her flower

• 3:07 PM – Sit beside her, NOT UNCLE YEOL

• 3:10 PM – Ask her to marry me (but only if Uncle Yeol is in the bathroom)

Chanyeol dropped the phone into his lap and covered his face with both hands. “I’m being usurped by a six-year-old.”

I was wheezing. “To be fair… it’s a solid plan.”

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean, a flower? That’s romantic,” I teased. “You could learn a thing or two.”

He dramatically sank into the couch. “Betrayed again.”

Just then, another text came in from his sister:

┃ Minjun says if you say no to the playdate, it’s because you’re jealous. 😈

Chanyeol gave me the most offended look in human history. “HE’S GASSLIGHTING ME.”

I wiped tears from laughing so hard. “I think we have to say yes now.”

Chanyeol groaned, but the smile tugging at his lips said otherwise. “Fine. But next time, I’m bringing backup. Like a referee. Or a fire extinguisher.”

I leaned over, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “You love that little goof.”

He sighed, resting his head on my shoulder. “Yeah… I really do. Even if he’s trying to steal my girlfriend.”

I grinned, tugging him closer. “He’s not stealing me. But he can borrow me for an hour.”

Chanyeol closed his eyes with a smile. “Deal. But only if I get you back after.”

“You always do.”

And somewhere across town, Minjun was likely circling tomorrow’s date on his crayon-drawn calendar, plotting the next chapter of his mission.

Little did he know, love already won just not in the way he expected.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 4: The Sleepover Surprise

It was a Friday night when the “official” sleepover happened. Minjun arrived at Chanyeol’s apartment with a tiny Avengers backpack, a bag of marshmallows, and what looked like a mission folder labeled “Operation: Impress Noona (2.0)”complete with glittery stickers and badly drawn hearts.

Chanyeol and I exchanged a look. “Do I want to know what’s inside that folder?” he whispered.

“I’m scared to ask,” I whispered back.

Minjun, ever the confident tiny king, marched in and set his bag down like he owned the place. “Uncle Yeol, I packed my own snacks this time. No more juice boxes.”

Chanyeol saluted. “Noted, Captain.”

Then Minjun turned to me with his best “prince-in-a-storybook” smile. “Noona, I saved you a marshmallow. The biggest one.”

I gasped dramatically. “For me? That’s so sweet!”

Chanyeol fake-coughed. “I see how it is. No marshmallow for your favorite uncle?”

Minjun looked at him dead serious. “You already have Y/N noona. Let me at least give her the marshmallow.”

I choked on my laughter. Chanyeol looked personally offended again.

Later that night, after movies, popcorn, and building a new and improved blanket fort with “guard duty schedules” drawn by Minjun, it was time for bed. Minjun yawned and curled up between us again like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I gently smoothed back his hair. “Did you have fun today?”

He nodded sleepily. “Best night ever…”

“Glad to hear it,” Chanyeol whispered from the other side.

There was a soft silence… until Minjun murmured, half-asleep, “Night, mommy…”

My hand froze.

Chanyeol’s head snapped toward me in the dark.

“…What did he just say?” he whispered.

I bit back a stunned laugh, my heart suddenly full and a little melty. “I think he called me mommy.”

Minjun didn’t even blink. He just snuggled closer and sighed happily. “My pretty noona is my mommy now…”

Chanyeol’s voice was barely holding back a grin. “Okay. Wow. He promoted you.”

“Without an interview or anything,” I whispered.

We both stared at the peaceful, snoring Minjun between us completely unaware of the emotional explosion he just set off.

Chanyeol reached for my hand under the blanket and laced our fingers quietly. “Just so you know,” he whispered, “if you were his mom… you’d be amazing.”

I turned my head toward him. “You think so?”

He smiled in the dark. “I know so.”

My heart fluttered quietly in the quiet warmth of the moment. No glitter, no juice boxes just us, Minjun, and the sound of soft breathing in a blanket fort made with too much love.

Maybe we weren’t ready for all of that yet.

But… someday?

Someday sounded pretty perfect.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 5: Permission Granted , Final Chapter

It had been five years since the first sleepover, and Minjun was no longer a wild six-year-old with a crush and crayons. Now eleven, he was taller, calmer, and very into basketball and thankfully, no longer throwing juice boxes at Chanyeol’s head.

We were all sitting at a picnic table at Hangang Park on a breezy spring afternoon. Chanyeol and I were sharing a coffee, and Minjun was demolishing a hot dog like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Chanyeol leaned over and whispered, “Still can’t believe he used to call you mommy after one marshmallow.”

I grinned. “He had taste. You should’ve taken notes.”

Just then, Minjun wiped his mouth and looked at Chanyeol with surprising seriousness. “Uncle Yeol, can I talk to you alone for a second?”

Chanyeol blinked. “Uh… sure?”

The two of them stood up and walked a few feet away, whispering. I could see Minjun’s animated hand gestures and Chanyeol’s increasingly confused face. I squinted suspiciously, trying to lip-read. Something about “timing” and “don’t mess it up.”

When they returned, Chanyeol looked like he’d just been handed top-secret government intel.

I raised an eyebrow. “What was that about?”

Chanyeol cleared his throat dramatically and sat beside me. “Well, my lovely girlfriend, I have just been given official permission by a very important person to ask you something big.”

I blinked. “Wait—Minjun?”

Chanyeol nodded solemnly. “He says, and I quote, ‘You can propose to her now. I’ll allow it. Just make sure it’s cool.’”

Minjun puffed up proudly. “I used to have a crush on you, remember? But now that I’m older and mature, I think you two make a good couple. Plus, I’ve decided I’ll marry someone cooler. Like a K-drama actress or something.”

I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my coffee. “Wow, big plans!”

Minjun shrugged like a true heartbreaker. “It’s called standards, noona.”

Chanyeol leaned in, his voice softer now. “He actually gave me a little speech. Said you’ve been like family since the day you read him that bedtime story in the fort.”

My heart squeezed.

Chanyeol reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. “I was going to wait. But since our little Cupid just fast-tracked everything…”

He opened it, revealing a delicate ring with a sparkle that took my breath away.

Minjun watched, arms crossed like a proud CEO. “Told you she’d cry.”

Chanyeol took my hand gently. “Y/N… I’ve loved you since the moment you made a kid believe in bedtime magic and fell asleep with his dinosaur plush in your arms. Will you marry me?”

I covered my mouth, eyes already misty, and nodded with a teary smile. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

Chanyeol grinned wide and slid the ring onto my finger as Minjun gave a very dramatic clap, complete with whooping cheers.

Then he added, “Okay, but I still get to give a speech at the wedding.”

Chanyeol and I exchanged a look, then burst into laughter.

“Deal,” I said, hugging him tightly. “You’ll always be our little Cupid.”

And with the park bathed in golden sunlight and the scent of spring all around us, I knew we weren’t just starting a new chapter we were writing the happiest sequel possible.