#*csc

[hoshingi]

shy woozi and coups 😔

[imanes]

"Refusal to handle military equipment for war in Palestine

While a genocide is underway in Palestine, workers at the various airports in Belgium are seeing weapons headed for war zones.

The loading and unloading of these weapons enables the resupplying of organizations killing innocent people.

We, the different unions active in the ground handling sector, call on our members not to handle flights that ship military material to Palestine/Israel as there were also clear agreements and rules at the start of the conflict with Russia and Ukraine.

We call for an immediate ceasefire and ask the Belgian governments to be consistent and not to tolerate arms shipments through Belgian airports. As unions, we declare our solidarity with those who are taking action for peace.

The common trade union front"

[studioeisa]

i’m actually obsessed with your jealousy prompts…. what’s better than the most jealous mf around???

seungcheol + “they did that on purpose”

★ seungcheol x celebrity!reader ┆ word count: 970 ┆ part of my closed jealousy drabble game.

ⓘ established relationship, secret relationship, pet name ['baby'], angst [if you squint]. combined with another prompt c/o anon: "i'm going to scream."

"I'm going to file a complaint."

Seungcheol is being dead serious, and yet you laugh at him. You laugh!

"Baby," you start to say, your tone edged with that familiar exasperation you take on whenever you think he's being silly. He's having none of it tonight, though. He knows his theory is one hundred percent correct.

And so he juts his lip out in a pout, crosses his arms over his chest, and whines out his next words like he's some teenager instead of a 29-year-old man. "They did that on purpose!"

That, being the recent announcement of who would be the special hosts of MBC's year-end music show. When Seungcheol first caught wind that a member of SEVENTEEN might have the chance to share a stage with you, he had been ecstatic. While your relationship wasn't public knowledge yet, he was ready to make it glaringly obvious should he be chosen to be your co-host.

He's had whole daydreams about the moment. The hand he'd casually rest on the small of your back. The smile he'd give you that would have Twitter speculating for weeks. Maybe he could even post something vague on Weverse afterwards, some cutesy message of I'm so happy~ ❤️

Alas, all his hopes were dashed when the memo about the hosts went out this morning.

"They put you with Jeonghan on purpose," Seungcheol grumbles.

Jeonghan— the one person Seungcheol wouldn't be able to openly go up against. The company must've known Seungcheol would throw his idol image out of the window, must've known that there was only one person who Seungcheol wouldn't pick a fight with.

The fact that Jeonghan is being extra annoying— relentlessly teasing, calling himself 'Mr. Steal-Yo-Girl'— has only added insult to injury.

You reach out to tug Seungcheol into your side. Even though he's technically supposed to be upset, he can't help himself; the leader leans into your touch, draping himself over you.

Your couch has always been way too small for the two of you, even though Seungcheol insist it's a 'perfect' fit. He considers it perfect because he can always pull you into his lap and bury himself in you, which is exactly what he does now despite his sullen mood.

When your fingers instinctively entangle in his hair, a part of him relaxes. That very part bristles just as quickly when you quip, "Well, Jeonghan is the pretty one in the group."

"I'm going to scream," Seungcheol threatens.

You know your boyfriend enough to understand that he's at least half serious. "Alright, alright," you huff, giving his hair a light, reprimanding tug.

Seungcheol hisses at the sensation. You appease him by pressing your lips to his cheek.

You shift in his hold so your gazes can meet. The look on your face only makes Seungcheol's frown deepen. You're enjoying this. You're amused. You're not taking his predicament seriously.

"If he's so pretty," Seungcheol starts, ignoring the way you begin to roll your eyes as you anticipate what's to come.

"If he's so pretty, why don't you date him, then?" he asks, punctuating his words with a dejected sniffle. Seungcheol looks the part of a wounded puppy.

Eyebrows furrowed? Check. Lips pursed? Check. Boba-like eyes, meant to tug at the heartstrings? Check, check, check.

Unfortunately for him, your long-term relationship has steeled you to his petulance. You take his attempt at moping in stride, opting to press another kiss, this time to the corner of his mouth.

"Because I don't want him," you say patiently. "I want you, baby."

The words still manage to make Seungcheol's heart soar. He tries not to let it show on his face. He's trying to prove a point here. He refuses to be won over by sweet nothings, even if you're so lovely as you say them.

"You're going to be on stage with him instead of me." Seungcheol's arms tighten around your waist, his expression darkening slightly. "People are going to ship you."

A surprised bark of laughter escapes you. "How do you know what shipping is, huh?"

"You're changing the subject."

"Baby—"

The words come out of Seungcheol in a rush, fueled by his gripe with management's decision. "I want people to ship us," he grouses. "I want them to look at us and think, 'They look like they'd be the perfect couple,' because we are!"

Something softens in your expression, then, and Seungcheol knows exactly why. Promises of going public have been made since the beginning, but now it's several years in and there's no relationship announcement in sight for either of you.

Seungcheol's voice is quieter, a little more even, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

"I just want everybody to know that I love you," he says, the words muffled against your skin. "And that you love me, too."

You stroke Seungcheol's hair soothingly. He relaxes at the familiar ministration, letting his breaths even out.

"Soon," you mutter. "I promise, baby. We'll get that really soon."

Seungcheol bites back the urge to say that it's been soon for the past three years. This is something beyond both of your control. He's not about to make you feel guilty for something neither of you can change.

He settles for the next best thing. He tilts his head just so, allowing him to catch your lips in a kiss. It's sweet and unhurried. His favorite type.

It's the kind of kiss that makes the endless 'soon's worth it.

When you pull away for air, he wordlessly reaches for his phone. You're a bit out of breath as you watch him angle his screen away from you and type something out.

"What're you doing?" you ask, craning your neck to try and catch a glimpse.

"E-mailing the CEO of MBC," he says matter-of-factly. "To make me your co-host instead of Hannie."

"Choi Seungcheol!"

[luluy33art]

CSC AU Reboot XD realized that 16 y/o Chloe would be much more interesting in this context (more angst potential too) she would make more impulsive and emotional decisions

I think it was necessary for this Chloe to have a confidant (she's still a child afterall) otherwise she would end up going insane and doing something like jumping out the window. Have the hc that the reason Sabrina left Chloe is bc she was jealous of Lila x,D and she'd starting to address this after Chloe mentioned it to her so I'm sending her to therapy too (the therapist is the same one Chloe had in the other timeline)

More lore in kofi

[kimingyuslover]

YOU MAKE ME WANNA MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ MULTIPART SMAU MASTERLIST

You once mentioned his group name, and now he's down bad for you. The worst part? his teammates seem to always tease him about it, but the best part? you answer his message.

★ Choi Seungcheol x Fem!reader

Genre : idol!au, idol!reader, romance, comedy, smau, strangers to lovers trope! hope y'all enjoy it <33

01. Seungkwan's photos & numbers ☎️. Seungcheol is threatening Seungkwan for some numbers.

02. Warning, LOML is here‼️. Seungcheol suddenly has the love of his life

03. Law & order ⚖️. Article comes out, should Seungcheol sue them?

04. Love is in the air 🔔. (final) Seungcheol's love is in the air & everyone definitely can see it.

©️ kimingyuslover 2025

[calicoups]

human shield

encountering strangers at a house party can be nice, while other times it can be...not what you expect. not to worry! here comes your big boyfriend to save you.

info seungcheol x reader, comfort (i lowkey don't know how to categorise this), reader is smaller than cheol, unwanted attention from strangers, 1139 words. hani's note i'm back pookies 😝 i have some more in store for you all coming soon! anyways, i hope you enjoy this and pls interact with it by liking commenting/reblogging <3

music boomed throughout the place and you watched as your friends move to the current song playing with grins on their face, belting out lyrics every now and then.

it had been a while since you all had hung out with each other, each of you being held down with work and taking up extra shifts or tasks to help colleagues. you were more than relieved when your friends realised that their free time had finally aligned with the whole groups and suggested an activity to do together which is how you all ended up at a...house party?

okay, maybe a house party wasn't something you would have liked to spend precious time with your friends. originally, you had planned to do a few rounds at go-karting but the place had turned out to be closed on the day you all agreed for the hang out. bummed out and a little annoyed, seokmin had been quick to bring up a house party that would be hosted by his friend. most of your friends had perked up and said that it would be a little refreshing to attend the party, that it'll allow you all to relax after facing all the stress from your respective work lives.

so here you are, leaning against the wall with seungcheol on your right. the two of you had been dancing with the others for a while but soon became a little exhausted and moved to the side to catch your breaths.

from the corner of your eye, you see seungcheol turn to you, "i'm a little thirsty, are you?"

"oh, yeah. i really need a drink right now, would you mind?" you tilt your head and watch as he smiles at you.

seungcheol shakes his head and pinches your cheek, "i don't mind at all, baby. stay right here, okay? i'll be back."

he disappears into the crowd and your eyes linger there for a few seconds before flitting away to look for your friends. as expected, seokmin and soonyoung are still dancing, they stop to drag wonwoo into the mix who protests at first but joins in with a smile.

however, your view becomes obstructed as two men approach you, your smile dropping. it's a little intimidating but you're sure you can handle a little chat if that's what they want.

one of them speaks up, "hey, cutie. are you alone out here?" he gestures behind him with a thumb before continuing, "we can keep you company!"

from the way he started his conversation you can tell how he definitely does not want just a little chat so you decide not to entertain him or his friend, "no, thank you. my boyfriend is here with me."

but they laugh when you say that and look at each other sceptically, "boyfriend?" one of them asks, almost in disbelief. there's a smell of cigarettes and alcohol coming from them and it makes your nose scrunch up slightly.

his friend steps forward, "where is he? don't see him here..." he pretends to look around and it begins to irk you the way they're both acting.

"we can't leave a pretty lady alone. lets go have some fun," the other man reaches towards you and tucks some hair behind your ear. you jerk backwards at the unwanted action, feeling disgusted.

“we’ll make sure you have fun, pretty." you don't answer but he persists, "let us buy you a drink, then.”

“no thanks, my boyfriend's got that.” you spit and divert your attention somewhere else with crossed arms, feeling a little suffocated from so much attention from two strangers alone. you can tell they’re getting a little annoyed but know that they won’t give up.

“why are you being so difficult? just come with us and relax,” one of them says with faint scowl. frustrated, you stare at them with fiery eyes, "i said no. you may fuck off, now."

you notice one of his hand reaching towards your face but it never touches you, a tall figure steps in front of you and blocks his way, the woody scent wafting into your nose.

seungcheol.

realising that it’s none other than seungcheol just from his scent, comforting warmth and built figure, you relax and let out the breath you were unintentionally holding.

“heard you were looking for this lovely lady’s boyfriend!” seungcheol jests, voice steady and dominating as he hands his and your drinks to vernon beside him. completely shielded by your boyfriends frame, your hand clutches onto his shirt at the waist and a finger from the other hand hooks into his belt loop as you watch him intimidate them effortlessly.

one of the men scoffs, “that’s you? move buddy, she’s no match for yo—”

seungcheol cuts him off, “and you are? that’s a good joke, maybe you should be a comedian!” he chuckles falsely and pats one of them on their shoulder before his smile vanishes, “don't ever think about laying that dirty hand on my girl or any other that clearly says no, for that matter. now, unless you don't want to keep being able to use that hand, you better fuck off like she said."

the guy sends seungcheol a dirty look and drags his friend down the hallway. seungcheol watches closely until the both of them are out of his sight.

"fucking creep," seungcheol mumbles.

"hey, you good?" vernon questions softly, earning a nod of you as a response.

a warm hand rests on your upper arm, you look up to see that it belongs to seungcheol who peers down at you with a worried look on his face. your name falls from his lips effortlessly, "are you okay? they didn't try anything, did they? I'm so sorry i took so long, i should not have left you alone like that."

"it's okay, they didn't do anything. i'm the one who sent you to get us drinks," you reassure him, "don't apologise, cheol."

"i'm still sorry, doll. i should have taken you with me," he pulls you closer, your chests meeting as he hugs you gently.

"i told you, it's okay," you kiss his jaw for extra reassurance before taking your drink from vernon, "thanks nonie."

vernon smiles and pats your head, "i got you. also, have you seen the others? i'll have to take their drunk asses home today."

seungcheol takes his own drink from vernon's hand, watching you nod and point to where the others were still dancing. wonwoo catches you pointing and taps both soonyoung and seokmin before tugged them along over to the three of you.

"hi!" soonyoung shouts with a wave. you wince at his volume and slap a hand to his mouth to which he speaks muffled words into.

seokmin, in his own drunken state, shushes soonyoung with a finger to his lips, "shh, soonie. you have to be quiet, okay?"

"see what i mean?"

WOOHOOOO!! you made it to the end! please don't hesitate to leave me feedback in my ask box or to like, comment/reblog! thank you for reading <3

[diamonddaze01]

oh, baby!

pairing: husband!seungcheol x fem!reader, bestfriend!jeonghan x fem!reader wc: 5.4k genre: fluff, crack | au: non-idol!au | rating: pg warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol consumption a/n: based on an ask by an anon! i love writing miscommunication LMAO. i'm not the best with stuff regarding pregnancy though, so if this reads bad...im sorry // big thanks to @tusswrites for beta-ing and giving me ideas for the scenes! and thank yoj to @wongyuseokie for the lovely banner!

summary: in which jeonghan knows he's the bestest of friends, so why can't you tell him your secret? read as: jeonghan knows you're pregnant. you have to be, right?

Jeonghan prides himself on being a really good friend. The best, even, if you asked him. He’s the kind of friend who remembers everyone’s favorite coffee order, who diffuses arguments with that easy smile (just ask Seungkwan and Seokmin about the infamous Jeju incident), and who somehow manages to be exactly where you need him, exactly when you need him.

He’s the one who introduced you to Seungcheol, and later, he turned down Seungcheol’s offer of being best man just so he could stand by your side during the wedding. He held back tears as he watched his two best friends exchange vows, hands trembling with how much he cared for both of you. Jeonghan even caught the bouquet afterward— everyone relentlessly teases him about it—and he keeps some of the petals in his wallet, pressed flat like they’re part of his heart.

So, yeah. Jeonghan considers himself the ultimate best friend—which is why he’s feeling a little miffed that you didn’t tell him. You’re pregnant, and he had to overhear it like some nosy bystander. Granted, it’s not like you’re obligated to share every detail right away, but he can’t help the small sting of hurt, the sense that he’s been left out of something monumental. And if there’s one thing Jeonghan’s always wanted, it’s to be the cool uncle— the one your kid would adore, the one they could go to for all kinds of secrets and stories.

Jeonghan knows he shouldn’t have eavesdropped (he knows, truly), but he couldn’t resist when he saw the two of you murmuring in a corner outside the bar, expressions far too serious for a simple night out. He presses himself against the door of his car, praying he’s hidden in the shadow, and watches as you drop your head against Seungcheol’s shoulder, your hand gripping his tightly.

“It’s okay, baby,” Seungcheol’s voice is soft, his hand gently circling your back. The quiet reassurance sounds so intimate, so tender, it tugs at something in Jeonghan’s chest.

“What are we gonna do?” you whisper, your words muffled as you press your nose into Seungcheol’s neck.

Jeonghan holds his breath as he watches Seungcheol pull back, his hands moving to your hips, fingers splayed protectively. His thumbs start tracing soothing circles at the bottom of your stomach, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity Jeonghan has rarely seen. “We’ll do whatever you want, my love,” Seungcheol says, voice steady. “It’s your choice.”

And that’s when it hits Jeonghan, right there in the cold. His heart skips a beat. Pregnant. You’re pregnant.

A thrill courses through him, excitement mingling with nerves. You’re going to be parents—something he’d always imagined would happen one day, but he never expected it to feel this real, this soon. He’s already picturing himself as the “cool uncle,” the one your kid would adore, the one they could go to for all kinds of secrets and stories.

But why hadn’t you told him? The sting of hurt starts to creep in, subtle yet unshakable. He’s your best friend—shouldn’t he have been one of the first to know? He sighs, leaning back against the car, the chilly metal pressing into his back, anchoring him. Maybe it’s early; maybe you’re waiting to process this as a couple. The thought soothes him slightly. And while he’d love nothing more than to rush over and demand answers, he knows he’ll have to wait until you’re ready.

His phone buzzes, startling him. Joshua.

joshuji: u coming in or what

joshuji: we want alc hurry UP

Jeonghan glances up, heart still racing, as he spots you and Seungcheol walking toward the bar’s entrance. He straightens his jacket, quickly pasting on his most nonchalant smile. Nothing happened, he tells himself. Just a regular night out.

Inside, the bar is alive with the hum of laughter and music, dim lights casting warm shadows across the wooden tables. Usually, Jeonghan would soak in the energy, but tonight he’s got a mission. He spots Joshua waving him over to the booth, where you, Seungcheol, and the rest of the group are already seated, laughter spilling out as Seungkwan finishes a story. Jeonghan can see the happiness on your face, the ease in the way you lean against Seungcheol—and it grounds him, if only a little.

Sliding into the booth, Jeonghan flashes a quick grin. “Alright, what did I miss?”

“Just in time!” you say brightly, reaching for the menu with a casualness that Jeonghan can’t help but find a little too… normal. “We haven’t ordered yet, but I’m thinking something fruity. Maybe a cocktail?”

His heart skips a beat. Cocktail? Oh, absolutely not. The protective instinct kicks in faster than his thoughts.

“Actually…” He reaches across the table, plucking the menu from your hands before he can even think twice. “Maybe tonight’s not a cocktail night for you?”

You blink, confused. “Huh? Since when are you my personal bartender?”

His laugh is quick, covering his nervousness. “Oh, I just… well, you’ve been looking kind of tired lately. Right, Seungcheol?” He tosses a hopeful glance in Seungcheol’s direction.

Seungcheol, clearly not expecting the cue, fumbles slightly before nodding. “Uh, yeah, babe, now that he mentions it… maybe.”

Your gaze sharpens, suspicion creeping in as you study Jeonghan’s face. “Tired? I’m not tired. I’m fine!”

Jeonghan quickly backpedals, his mind racing. “Of course you are! It’s just, well, you know, the cocktails here are pretty strong. Maybe a soda or a nice glass of water, just to keep things… chill?”

Joshua’s eyebrow arches in amusement. “Since when do you care about people drinking, Jeonghan?”

“Just looking out for my friends!” Jeonghan insists, pulling you close and throwing his arm around your shoulders in a playful half-hug. “Only the best for you, buddy! Besides, wouldn’t want you, uh… getting woozy on us.”

You narrow your eyes, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. “I think I can handle one cocktail, Jeonghan.”

He glances around, desperate. “Right, right, but you know, Seungkwan was just saying how amazing the mocktails are here. No… risks. All the flavor. Right, Seungkwan?”

Seungkwan’s mouth opens, clearly taken by surprise, but he gives a quick nod. “Yeah! Mocktails. They’re, uh… very safe. Delicious, too.”

You fold your arms, your amusement turning into a mix of suspicion and annoyance. “What’s going on with you tonight, Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan stammers, adjusting his posture but keeping his smile intact, though his face flushes under the dim lights. “Nothing! Just… just looking out for you. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Your expression softens, the suspicion melting into exasperated affection. With a sigh, you shrug. “Fine. I’ll try the mocktail, I guess.”

Relief washes over him, his shoulders relaxing as he shoots a quick grin at Seungcheol, who shakes his head, clearly amused but in on the act. For the rest of the evening, Jeonghan doesn’t let his guard down for a second. Every time the waiter brings over a drink, he discreetly “taste-tests” yours with an exaggerated nod before passing it along.

“Just making sure it’s up to your high standards,” he says with a smirk each time you raise an eyebrow at him.

You laugh, shaking your head, your hand instinctively slipping into Seungcheol’s under the table, your thumb stroking his knuckles.  “You’re acting so weird tonight, Jeonghan.”

If only you knew.

Jeonghan wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He swears. He’s just standing by the kitchen counter, the crinkling bag of chips in his hand an innocent alibi, while scanning the room for something—or someone—interesting. The dinner is in full swing, music humming softly in the background, conversations buzzing like white noise, and he’s basking in the satisfying quiet of being a wallflower in a room full of social butterflies.

He pops another chip into his mouth, savoring the salty crunch, when Mingyu’s voice cuts through the atmosphere like a spotlight snapping on.

“Seungcheol, man, we’re so proud of you!” Mingyu says, loud enough to turn heads.

Jeonghan tilts his own head slightly, his chip midair. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Yeah, seriously,” Seungkwan pipes up, clapping Seungcheol on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “It’s about time!”

Jeonghan’s hand hovers, chip forgotten as he shifts his attention. A small crowd is forming around Seungcheol now, congratulatory pats and cheers echoing through the room. Seungcheol, as always, wears the kind of bashful grin that makes it clear he’s soaking in the attention, even if he pretends he doesn’t like it.

“It really did take years,” Seungcheol admits, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always does when he’s being humble.

And there you are, standing right beside him, smiling so warmly that Jeonghan swears the room tilts a little. “But he didn’t give up. I’ve seen him work so hard, day and night,” you say, the pride in your voice impossible to miss.

Jeonghan’s brow furrows as he slowly lowers the chip to the bag. Pride. Hard work. Years. What’s this about?

The murmurs of approval spread through the group like wildfire. Jeonghan catches Mingyu and Seungkwan clinking their beers in silent celebration.

“It’s not easy breaking into this industry,” Mingyu says sagely, though Jeonghan knows for a fact the most Mingyu’s ever ‘broken into’ is a tub of ice cream after a long day.

Jeonghan frowns. Industry? His mind races as he flicks his gaze between you and Seungcheol. What industry?

“Man,” Seungcheol begins, shaking his head with a small, nostalgic laugh, “those years in the bedroom and basements—”

Jeonghan chokes on his chip.

Heads whip around to look at him. He coughs, hand over his mouth, scrambling to recover.

“Bedroom?” Jeonghan croaks, louder than he intended.

A few people snicker, but Seungcheol looks more confused than anything, one brow arching as he crosses his arms. “Uh… yeah?”

Jeonghan blinks rapidly, his mind running laps. Years in the bedroom? With you? And basements? What does that even mean?

“That’s where I started making music,” Seungcheol continues, his voice steady but tinged with the slightest bit of defensiveness.

“Oh,” Jeonghan mutters, the word barely audible over the thudding of his pulse. “Music.” He forces his face to remain neutral, though his brain is screaming. He takes another chip, if only to have something to do with his hands.

Seungcheol doesn’t stop, his voice gaining momentum like a runaway train. “It was rough, honestly. I spent hours in there, pouring everything into it, over and over again—”

Jeonghan’s hand freezes in the bag, his eyes going wide as unbidden images flicker through his mind. Images that have nothing to do with music. He fights the urge to slap himself.

“And you supported me through all of it,” Seungcheol says, his voice softening as he turns to you. His eyes practically glow with sincerity.

You smile at him, your expression so warm, so open, that Jeonghan feels a twinge of secondhand emotion. There’s something private in the way you look at Seungcheol, something that feels too big for a moment like this.

And yet, Jeonghan can’t help but tighten his grip on the chip bag.

Mingyu breaks the moment with a hearty clap on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “It’s inspiring, really. You just kept going, even when it got hard.”

Jeonghan’s chip crumbles in his hand. Did no one else hear that?

“Well,” you say with a laugh that’s just shy of teasing, “he never does things halfway. When he’s passionate, he’s all in.”

Jeonghan presses his lips together tightly, his shoulders shaking as he stifles a laugh. He risks a glance around the room, but no one else seems fazed.

Seungcheol chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck again. “What can I say? It’s worth it when it’s something you love.”

Jeonghan is two seconds away from either bursting into laughter or leaving this dinner altogether. He doesn’t know which option will save his sanity faster.

“Man,” Seungkwan says, grinning broadly, “and now you’re a producer at that studio! You really made it, Cheol.”

Jeonghan freezes mid-breath. Producer?

“Oh,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. “Music.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrows as he turns toward Jeonghan. “Yeah? What else would it be?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan replies quickly, brushing off the crumbs from his hands as nonchalantly as possible. “Congrats, man. Really proud of you.”

Seungcheol eyes him for a beat longer before Mingyu distracts him with another round of enthusiastic pats.

As the conversation flows back to lighter topics, Jeonghan sneaks another glance at you and Seungcheol. You’re laughing at something he’s said, your hand swatting his arm playfully, and Seungcheol leans down to whisper something in your ear. The way you nudge him back, your smile soft, makes Jeonghan’s chest feel oddly heavy.

He shakes his head, letting out a quiet laugh to himself. I’m definitely overthinking this.

But no matter how many chips he eats, the phrase “years in the bedroom and basements” echoes in his mind, refusing to leave.

Sunday brunch has been a sacred tradition ever since you and Jeonghan were broke, hungover, and shamelessly nosy college kids. It used to be a chance to pick apart every terrible decision from the night before—who ended up with who, which of your friends was blacklisted from your favorite bar this time, and whether that one prof actually knew how to teach or was just winging it. Now it’s all slightly more respectable, though the core vibe is the same: hungover, nosy, a little too loud for public, and still hung up on the drama of the week.

When Jeonghan strolls in, spotting you at your usual table with an iced Americano in hand, he stops short. For a second, he feels a wave of pride—he’s got his act together, and you’re clueless as ever—but it’s quickly followed by a flash of concern. So he switches gears, zeroes in on your coffee cup, and slides into the booth with what he hopes looks like an easy grin.

He prides himself on subtlety, Jeonghan does. He’s sure he can manage this without causing alarm, without making you feel pressured or spied on. Just a small adjustment to the routine. Easy.

“Hey, what’s that you’re drinking?” he asks as he slides into the seat across from you, keeping his tone light but shooting you a grin that’s maybe a little too tight. He plucks the coffee cup from your hand before you can react, inspecting it like he’s never seen iced coffee before.

“Uh… an iced Americano?” You raise an eyebrow, more amused than anything, but he can already tell you’re getting suspicious. You take in his tight smile and his sudden interest in your drink. “Why?”

He takes a quick sip and barely stifles a grimace. “Iced Americano. Really? You drink this every Sunday?”

You shrug. “Yeah, since forever. What’s your deal?”

“Oh, nothing,” he says, shrugging it off as he slides the coffee back. “Just thought you’d want something herbal, maybe? Like… chamomile? Peppermint?” he offers, trying to sound casual. “Soothing stuff, you know? Maybe something decaf?”

“Herbal?” You narrow your eyes. “When did you get all wholesome on me? Since when do you care about herbal tea?”

You stare at him, an eyebrow quirking, skepticism starting to creep into your eyes. “Herbal? Are you okay? Since when do you care about, like, chamomile tea?”

He gives a quick shrug, faking his usual breeziness. “I’m just saying! Caffeine’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know? All the jitters, the heartburn…” He trails off, flashing a strained smile. He’s proud of how smoothly he’s handling this, trying to steer you away from the iced coffee without raising any red flags.

You give him a look, deadpan. “Han, I have one coffee, once a week. And half of it’s in your stomach now, so don’t lecture me.”

He barks out a laugh, forcing himself to look casual as hell as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Right, right. My bad. But you should try water instead—hydration is key, y’know.” Without giving you a chance to argue, he pops out of the booth and heads to the counter for a bottle of water.

He keeps an eye on you from the counter, grinning to himself like he’s just scored a major win. This is step one, and he figures if he plays his cards right, you won’t even notice his sudden caffeine-sabotage campaign. He grabs a bottle, quickly sidling back over to the booth.

He plunks it down in front of you with a wide smile, as if he’s doing you the world’s biggest favor. “Stay hydrated. That shit is better than any iced Americano.”

You just stare at him, bewildered. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

“Nothing!” Jeonghan insists, a bit too enthusiastically. But then, maybe he overplays his hand. The next thing he knows, he’s sliding the bottle over to you and muttering, “Gotta stay hydrated, buddy.”

“Buddy?” You shoot him a look that could drill holes. You’re not buying it, not even a little. Jeonghan practically flinches because, yeah, he never calls you “buddy.” Normally, it’s just your name—or a well-timed “ho” when he’s feeling especially feisty. He can tell the second he says it that he’s tipped you off, just a bit.

And now, you’re watching him, that too-sharp glint in your eyes. “Since when am I your buddy?” you ask, voice laced with suspicion.

Jeonghan keeps his grin intact, waving it off like he’s got nothing to hide. “What? Aren’t we buddies?” He goes for his water glass and takes a long, slow sip, playing up the nonchalance. “Just looking out for you. You need a buddy to make sure you stay hydrated, that’s all.”

But he’s starting to see it in your eyes—that look you get when you know he’s up to something. He can feel his casual act slipping, so he pulls back, deciding to ease up on the hints. “Anyway,” he says, tone lightening, “I’m just messing with you,” He leans back, stretching with a lazy grin that he hopes comes off as relaxed, not calculated. “So, anyway. Tell me about what that idiot boss of yours pulled this week.”

You’re still squinting at him, but he can see you filing his “buddy” slip-up away for later. Probably already figuring out ways to make him squirm next time he tries to pull something over on you. The thought almost makes him laugh.

Despite the coffee swiping, you settle back, leaning into the usual rhythm of your weekly debrief, losing yourself in the vent session as you pick at your food and Jeonghan eggs you on. He throws in his own commentary—“I swear, that guy’s one bad review from a lawsuit”—while giving you sideways glances, watching to make sure you’re sipping the water. And every now and then, he slides your plate a little closer, pushing you to take another bite.

But in between the jokes, he’s already plotting his next move. Subtlety is the name of the game, after all. He just has to keep you guessing long enough to make sure you’re taking care of yourself… without letting on that he’s keeping watch over two of you now.

Seungkwan has chosen a sports park for the monthly hangout, a classic Seungkwan move—something energetic, competitive, and likely to end in some hilarious disaster. Everyone’s in high spirits as they gather under the bright sun, ready to kick off the day with some casual sports. It's the perfect opportunity for some fun, but as usual, Jeonghan’s on a different wavelength.

Jeonghan prides himself on being subtle—too subtle, probably. He doesn’t want to overstep, doesn’t want to make you feel pressured, but his instincts are... well, Jeonghan instincts. And right now, they’re telling him something’s off.

There’s been too much of you skipping out on things, and while he would normally chalk it up to your “weird habits” or just you being you, today it’s starting to feel... different. You’ve been playing it off, pretending everything’s normal, but he can feel the change. And he's not about to let this slip by.

First, there was the iced Americano incident. The way you looked at him when he tried to take it away—it wasn’t just you rolling your eyes. You were trying to hide something. Then last night, at dinner, you hardly touched your drink, instead opting for water—water, for god’s sake. And now... here you are, standing way too still in the middle of a busy sports park, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else. Jeonghan is practically scanning your every move.

Seungkwan’s already yapping about his plan for a “friendly” soccer match, while the others are warming up on the sidelines. You’re laughing with the girls, joking about who’s going to be the first to get a goal past Seungkwan’s notoriously awful defense. It’s all very chill, very normal, but Jeonghan’s eyes keep darting to you. It’s subtle—he’ll give you that—but there’s a difference in the way you’re standing. 

Yeah. This is definitely it. You’re pregnant.

Jeonghan doesn’t even need to say it out loud. He knows. He knows in his gut. You're keeping it from him. The way you’ve been acting—it's obvious. You’re pregnant, and you’re hiding it. But he’s not about to make a scene. No. He’ll be subtle about this. He’ll protect you without you knowing he’s doing it. He’s not going to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured. He’ll just... look out for you.

He watches you take a sip from your water bottle, and the sight of you not reaching for something more exciting (like your usual iced Americano or even a bloody beer) sends alarm bells ringing in his head. No way. You’ve been on a healthy streak all day. Something’s wrong.

Slipping into the conversation as casually as he can manage, he leans on the edge of the table, giving you his most easygoing smile. "Hey, buddy," he says, eyes flicking to yours, a little too sharp.

Shit. There it is. “Buddy”—again. He’s almost positive you’ve caught him red-handed. His instincts are getting worse, and it’s almost like he can feel the sweat forming at the back of his neck.

You blink, confused, and he feels a little too caught off guard. Shit. Did he just say that out loud?

“What?”

“Just checking in,” Jeonghan continues smoothly, his tone dropping an octave. “You sure you’re alright to just... watch today? You know, I’ve been thinking, soccer is a little intense, don’t you think? It could be a lot on your body...”

You look at him, a little puzzled, probably trying to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. "It’s just a game, Jeonghan."

“Yeah,” he shrugs, trying to mask the panic that’s bubbling up. He needs to keep this light, keep it casual. "But still, with your... situation.” He trails off, forcing himself to look like he’s just making a suggestion.

You frown now, clearly starting to get suspicious.

Without waiting for you to question him further, he quickly slides into a new tactic. “You know, hydration’s important,” he says, snatching the water bottle from your hands and taking it upon himself to force it into your grip. "I think you should drink more water. It’s the best thing for you right now." He gives you an exaggerated smile, all teeth. “You’ll be just fine if you stay hydrated.”

You’re about to protest—he knows you are—but before you can get the words out, he quickly walks off, telling himself it’s fine, just fine. Keep it cool, Jeonghan. You’re fine.

But his mind is still working overtime, running through all the signs he’s seen—skipping drinks, staying still, not participating. And every single one of them is screaming the same thing.

You’re pregnant.

He glances back over his shoulder to check on you—thankfully, you’re still sitting, still sipping the water like the good little soldier he’s turning you into.

Suddenly, Seungcheol appears out of nowhere, grinning like a fool, pulling you away from the picnic table. “C’mon, babe, time to stretch those legs. Don’t tell me you’re already done being the cheerleader?”

Relief washes over Jeonghan, and he feels a knot in his chest loosen. There you go, Seungcheol, swooping in to save the day—taking you away from all the chaos he’s cooked up in his head. You’re in good hands. For now, at least.

Jeonghan watches as Seungcheol sweeps you into the crowd, joining the others on the field. He’s grateful—so grateful—that you haven’t caught on yet. Not yet.

The party is buzzing, the clinking of glasses and laughter filling the room as Seungcheol’s birthday kicks into high gear. It’s the usual mix of their close-knit friend group—Seungkwan, Mingyu, Vernon, Jihoon, and all the others—each in their own little bubble of conversation, but you? You’re standing off to the side with that damn glass of champagne in your hand, eyes glancing around, and there’s something about the way you’re holding it that has Jeonghan’s mind spinning.

You’re standing there like you belong to no one, not even yourself, but something about the way you keep looking at your glass makes him uneasy. Maybe it’s the way your fingers are wrapped around it too carefully, almost like you’re avoiding drinking. Or maybe it’s the way you keep glancing at Seungcheol, who’s busy chatting away with Mingyu and Vernon, like he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s hard to tell, but Jeonghan can’t shake the feeling something’s off.

Then it happens. The moment he’s been waiting for.

You raise the glass, like you’re about to toast. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses grows louder, and it’s like the whole room pauses. Jeonghan’s mind clicks into overdrive, his instincts kicking in, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, his hand is moving.

One smooth motion, and the champagne is in his hand, your glass no longer where it was just a second ago.

He doesn’t look at you when he does it. He doesn’t need to. He just takes it, like it’s nothing. Because, in his mind, it’s something. He’s doing you a favor, right? He’s looking out for you, protecting you from something—something you don’t even realize you need protection from.

Your frown is immediate. Your eyes narrow, and you turn to face him, the glass now mysteriously missing from your grasp.

“Jeonghan, what the hell?” Your voice is sharp, confused, but there’s an undertone of concern. And for a split second, Jeonghan feels his stomach tighten. He’s not sure if it’s nerves or guilt, but damn if it doesn’t feel like something.

He keeps his cool, though. It’s Jeonghan, after all. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t falter. He smiles, giving a shrug like this is no big deal. “I’m just trying to protect you,” he says, voice light, playful, even though there’s a certain tension in his shoulders that he can’t quite shake.

“Protect me?” You stare at him, eyes widening in disbelief. “From what?”

His heart beats a little faster now, because this—this is the moment. He knows he’s been right. He’s sure he’s been right. It’s been building up, the signs have been obvious, and if he doesn’t stop you now, he could be too late.

“Pregnant people can’t have alcohol,” Jeonghan says, his tone turning a little more serious, but he’s still keeping it light. Too light. He barely catches the way your brow furrows as you process his words.

You blink at him, the confusion settling into something far more incredulous. “Okay, thank you for that little factoid,” you say, your voice laced with sarcasm. “Who’s pregnant?”

Jeonghan can feel his pulse picking up, his gaze darting nervously from you to the champagne in his hand. Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but you look like you know. You’ve caught him. You’ve noticed the signs, and this is it. He’s been caught red-handed.

“You are?” Jeonghan’s voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, the words tumbling out of him before he can stop them. He doesn’t even recognize the tone of his own voice—he just knows that this is the moment he’s been dreading and, somehow, waiting for.

And then you start laughing. Laughing.

It’s loud, it’s spontaneous, and it fills the entire room. Your shoulders shake with it, your face turning pink with the force of your amusement. And for the first time since he walked in, Jeonghan feels like a damn idiot. A total idiot.

“WHAT?” Jeonghan can barely get the word out before he realizes what he’s said, and now, you’re laughing even harder, clutching your stomach like it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you.

Seungcheol’s head whips around from where he’s talking to Mingyu and Vernon, his curiosity piqued by the sound of your laughter. You’re still giggling, though, and Jeonghan watches in utter confusion as Seungcheol’s grin slowly spreads across his face.

“What are we laughing about?” Seungcheol asks, his voice thick with amusement, his arm sliding around your waist as he walks over to you.

Your laughter is still uncontrollable, and you’re leaning into Seungcheol as if this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened. “Jeonghan over here thinks I’m pregnant,” you say between laughs, and Jeonghan feels a lump form in his throat.

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense.

Seungcheol starts laughing too, looking from you to Jeonghan like he’s just stumbled across some inside joke. His arm around your waist tightens, and he pulls you onto his lap with that effortless strength of his. You’re still giggling, though now, you’re half sitting on Seungcheol’s lap, your face buried in his neck, clearly enjoying the chaos you’ve unleashed.

Jeonghan is standing there like he’s been hit by a truck. His brain’s scrambling to catch up. Wait, this isn’t what he thought was happening, is it?

“You’re not...?” Jeonghan stammers. His voice is a little too high, like he’s a kid who just learned that Santa isn’t real. You're not pregnant?

You wipe the tears from your eyes, finally able to speak. “Pregnant? No, Jeonghan, why would you think that?”

Jeonghan’s hand tightens around the champagne glass, his mind replaying every little thing he’d witnessed over the last week. The water at dinner, the soccer game, the way you were avoiding alcohol— it all clicks into place, and he can feel the weight of his mistake crushing down on him. “But at the bar—the whole ‘it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want’ thing?” Jeonghan’s voice cracks slightly, but he keeps going. “And the drinking water at dinner last week instead of wine? And the not playing soccer?”

You just stare at him, eyes wide with disbelief, but this time, there’s a trace of sympathy in them. “Jeonghan,” you say, a little quieter now, “our lease is up. We were stressed about finding a new place to live. That’s why I didn’t drink, and the whole soccer thing? I had a cold that day.”

Seungcheol, still holding you on his lap, leans in with a grin. “Dude, she had to drive us home,” he adds, voice full of playful exasperation. “And she was sick that day. You seriously thought she was pregnant?”

Jeonghan blinks a couple of times, like the whole world has just shifted. The understanding starts to dawn on him, slow and painful. Oh. He almost wants to bury his face in his hands. “Right. Oh.”

“Yeah, OH,” you say, still chuckling. “Now, give me back my drink so I can drink to my beautiful, spectacular husband, whose baby I am NOT carrying.”

Seungcheol laughs and presses a quick kiss to your temple, his arms tightening around you as he looks over at Jeonghan with a smirk. “Don’t worry, Jeonghan. She’s not pregnant. But I’ll take the champagne now. You can go ahead and get her some water, though. She might still need it after all that laughing.”

Jeonghan lets out a long breath, his face a mix of embarrassment and relief, and finally hands your champagne back to you, though he looks like he wants to sink into the floor. “Right. Right. You’re welcome. No baby. Got it.”

You raise your glass toward Seungcheol with a grin, finally able to focus on the toast you’ve been trying to make all evening. “To my incredible, perfect husband—who, I assure you, I’m not pregnant with.”

Jeonghan, though, is standing off to the side, looking like he just got hit with a truck. He rubs his temples, muttering to himself. He’s definitely not going to live this one down. Not today, not ever.

[heartepub]

genre/tags. suggestive. gn!reader. you can decide if it's friends to ??? or an established relationship. undiscussed kink ig. inspo: that one scene from king eternal monarch

“I’m going to kill him. No really, I will.” Seungcheol ends the call with Soonyoung.

You snort from your place on his bed, eyes glued to your laptop. “I swear, if you were a king, there’d be beheadings every other day.”

“That’s the first thing you think of?” He scoffs.

“Shut up, that’s what I’m reading about!” Lately, you’ve taken to working on your readings at his apartment, due in part to it being one of the few ways you can spend time with your boyfriend while bogged with schoolwork. 

“Maybe you should take a break,” he raises his eyebrow pointedly at your trackpad. “You haven’t scrolled past that page for ten minutes.” Now it’s your turn to scowl, but he’s right. Relenting, you close your laptop and rest it on his bedside table.

“You’re no better though, you’ve been pacing since I got here.” You pat the space beside you invitingly. Seungcheol sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of you. Absently, you play with the fingers within reach of your hand. “You gotta admit though, it’s totally gonna happen, dorm devil.”

He glares at you, already pouting, though there’s no real bite behind it. “…I’m beheading you as my first order of business.”

“Try me.” Jokingly, you lean forward and look up, exposing your neck. 

For a beat, there’s nothing, and you’re about to lower your chin with a lighthearted taunt of him chickening out, when it happens.

Seungcheol leans forward, tilting his head to place the softest kiss on the center of your throat. Oh.

He must have felt the sharp intake of your breath vibrate on his lips. Your entire body stiffens in shock, visibly jolting upwards. He takes it as his cue to move away slowly, eyes meeting yours.

You pull back much faster than he does, eyelids fluttering as you try to process what had just happened. Your mouth is softly parted in an o, a creeping heat replacing the teasing expression on your face just moments ago.

For a breathless moment, neither of you speak.

“Cheol—” his left hand comes to your chin, tilting your head as he kisses you again, this time a firm press of his lips onto lips. Oh.

It takes you longer to respond, your throat still tingling from earlier, but Seungcheol is impatient. He pulls away for a breath before closing in again. Soon enough, your eyes flutter shut, mouth moving against his.

One hand comes up to thread in his hair, and he groans when you tug at the strands just so, nails grazing his scalp.

His kiss is fierce but oh-so-gentle. You unravel under his touch, trading kisses and breathy sighs as he crowds you against his bed, one hand still on your chin and the other bracing his weight on the headboard.

Eventually, Seungcheol pulls away, eyes locking onto yours. He seems to be debating something, his stare flicking between your kiss-swollen lips, his hand, and the gaze you level at him, debauched yet trusting. Without looking away, the hand on your chin wraps itself around your throat. There’s barely any pressure, only the weight of him and his unspoken question, yet a breathy noise rips itself past your lips.

Relief flashes briefly across his eyes before it is replaced by a smirk.

His mouth moves past your lips and cheek, ghosting over your ear. Seungcheol’s hot breath fans across your skin, and you know he is savoring the way you shudder against him.

“Off with your head.”

[hanniedream]

[podcast-bookclub]

Audio drama creators: what moment made you feel like you were *actually* a creator?

[moncherriecoups]

Muted Hearts

Some love stories are whispered, not spoken. Some promises are signed, not said.

This is ours.

Take me with you to go find her

My one and only

And smile, tears, breath

The eternal castle

And the lonely island all by its lonesome

No warning can stop me

──────────────────────────────

Seungcheol x f!oc I Minghao x f!oc (?)

Tags:tense relationship, idolxoc, slowburn relationship, angst

Word count: 7.4k

──────────────────────────────

Chapter 15 - End

The cup slipped from her fingers before she even realized it.

Hot tea spilled down the counter, soaking into the pages of the open notebook she’d left by the sink. The ceramic shattered on the floor a second later, the sound sharp and final.

But Sua didn’t flinch.

She stood there, her phone still clutched in her hand, screen dark now. Her fingers were trembling. Not violently. Not the kind of tremble that made you gasp or stagger. No, this was quieter—subtle and horrifying. The kind of shaking that crept into your bones when your body knew something your mind wasn’t ready to admit yet.

Pledis had called her.

They had spoken gently. Calmly. With the kind of rehearsed sympathy that was more insulting than comforting.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her knees gave out before the tears did. She slid to the kitchen floor, the broken cup beside her, the spilled tea now lukewarm beneath her palms. Her mouth opened—but no sound came out. Only air, shaky and thin. Her chest rose and fell, uneven, like her lungs had forgotten how to do their job.

He had been fighting with them. With his members. His brothers.

Because of her.

She just didn’t know it.

Not until now.

Not until Pledis handed her the truth like a loaded gun and asked her to pull the trigger herself.

He had been fighting for her.

Fighting because of her.

And the worst part?

She knew him.

Even though they’d only been together for just under a year, she knew him. Knew how easily he’d burn down the whole damn world if it meant protecting someone he loved. How recklessly he’d throw himself into the fire if he thought she was hurting. How much he hated seeing her in pain.

He would leave it all behind. In a heartbeat. The group, the career, the stage he’d built piece by piece since he was a kid.

He would walk away for her.

And she couldn't let that happen.

Her fingers curled tighter around her phone. Her breath hitched again, and this time the tears came—slow and stinging. No sobs yet. Just the kind of crying that felt like drowning. The kind where your body didn’t move, didn’t shake—just leaked. Quiet. Defeated.

It was too much.

Too loud in her chest.

Too final.

She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth as a strangled sound escaped her throat. A sob. Guttural. Painful. It was like her lungs had ripped themselves apart from the inside.

She wasn’t just heartbroken.

She was destroyed.

Because loving Seungcheol had never been the problem.

It was losing him—choosing to lose him—that would kill her.

And now she had to do exactly that.

—

Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The tea was still soaking into the notebook by the kitchen sink. Shards of the broken cup were scattered around her knees, but she couldn’t move. Not yet. The tears hadn’t stopped, not since the phone call. Her lungs hurt. Her throat ached. She was still gasping like she’d just run a marathon in a dream she couldn’t wake up from.

She needed someone.

Just one person.

With trembling fingers, she unlocked her phone, her vision still blurry with tears. She scrolled through her contacts until she found his name—Minghao—and pressed “Call.”

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then—

“Sua?”

Her breath caught. Just hearing his voice made the wall she’d been building inside her crack wide open. Her voice came out in a jagged whisper, barely human.

“Ha-Hao…”

A pause. “What happened?”

“I—” Her voice cracked completely, collapsing into sobs. “They called. Minghao, they called me—Pledis—they said I have to stay away from him. They said he’s fighting with the members—he’s losing everything—and it’s because of me. They said…”

She pressed her palm against her mouth, trying to stifle the sound, but it was too much. Her whole body was shaking now.

From the other side, Minghao was moving. She could hear it—the sharp shuffle of feet, the click of a door, his breath speeding up.

“Where are you right now?”

“At home—” she gasped. “I didn’t know who else to call—I didn’t—I can’t let him find out, Hao. If he finds out, he’ll leave everything behind for me. You know he will.”

She was choking on every word, guilt curling like poison in her chest.

And Minghao knew. Of course he knew. There was a pause—a beat too long—but then his voice came back, calm, gentle, grounding.

“I know,” he said. “I know, Sua. I’m at rehearsal, but I’ll come to you as soon as we’re done, okay? Just… breathe. You’re going to be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“No,” she whispered, wiping at her face with the back of her trembling hand. “Don’t tell him. Please. I can’t be the reason he throws everything away. I won’t survive it, Hao. I won’t.”

“I won’t say anything,” he promised. “I swear. Just hold on for me, okay?”

“I’m trying,” she whispered. “I’m trying.”

But even as she said it, she already knew the truth.

She wouldn’t be there when he arrived.

She hung up first. Not because she wanted to. Because if she stayed on that call for one more second, she would’ve begged him to come now, begged him to take her somewhere far away, and she didn’t have the strength for that kind of desperation anymore.

The screen dimmed.

And in the hollow silence that followed, another buzz lit up her phone.

Just arrived at the venue. Members are all here.

She stared at the message like it was a knife.

Like it was a goodbye she hadn’t written yet.

Tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

Because he didn’t know.

Because he was still trusting her with his heart, not knowing she was about to break it.

She typed, barely seeing the letters.

Good luck. I’m rooting for you.

She hit send.

And then she let herself scream—into the pillow, into the silence, into the kind of heartbreak that didn’t sound poetic or pretty.

Because it didn’t feel like anything but ruin.

—

It took her a long time to move again.

Time blurred after that last message. Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes dragged into hours, and she just sat there on the kitchen floor—knees pulled to her chest, eyes blank, throat raw. The tea had long dried into a sticky stain across her tiles, seeping into the edges of her notebook, her palms red from gripping them too tight against her knees.

Her body ached, not from injury but from holding it all in. Her ribs felt bruised from crying. Her lungs were sore from silence.

She had nothing left in her, but the world outside kept spinning.

And Seungcheol was still out there—laughing, rehearsing, maybe smiling at something someone said—completely unaware that the ground beneath him was already cracking.

And she was the one holding the match.

The call echoed in her skull like a bell: He recently had a conflict with several members and staff over this matter.

Her breath caught again.

Fighting with them. His brothers. The people who'd held him up, been by his side since he was a teenager, who knew every inch of who he was even before she did. She could see it—his voice raised, jaw tight, the vein in his neck throbbing the way it always did when he was angry. She could hear him defending her again and again until his throat went raw.

And he’d never tell her.

Because he was protecting her, even when it destroyed him.

She knew him too well.

And because she knew him, she had to go.

There was no “talking this through.” No middle ground. If he found out what they said—if he found out they threatened to choose for him—he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d leave the company, the group, the life he built with his own hands. For her.

And that would kill him.

So this would have to kill her instead.

Her limbs moved before her brain did. A kind of mechanical instinct took over, like her soul had already decided and was dragging the rest of her body along for the ride. She got up, slow and stiff, wiping her face with the hem of her shirt. Her throat burned. Her eyes stung. But she didn’t let herself cry again. Not yet.

She walked to the living room, took a shaky breath, and picked up her phone.

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a long moment before she scrolled through her contacts and tapped on a name she never thought she’d call again—not for this.

“Hello?” her boss answered on the second ring, voice clipped and surprised.

Sua swallowed the knot in her throat.

“I’ll take the job,” she said, quiet but steady. “The one you offered me in Paris. If it’s still open.”

A pause. “Wait—what?”

“I’ll take it,” she repeated. “You said the position was available. That you’d help me settle in if I ever wanted a fresh start.”

Another pause—longer, heavier. Then a breath on the other line.

“It’s still open,” her boss said carefully. “You’re sure?”

No.

Not at all.

Not in the ways that mattered.

But she had to be. For him.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Her boss exhaled. “Okay. I’ll arrange everything. When are you thinking of leaving?”

“Tomorrow. I'll hand over everything to Ari and handle the rest when I land there.”

A pause so sharp she could feel the disbelief through the phone.

“Jesus, Sua.”

“I know,” she said softly, rubbing her temple with the heel of her palm. “Just… I can’t be here anymore. I’ll pack tonight. I don’t want anyone else to know until I’m gone.”

There was understanding in the silence that followed. The kind that only came from watching someone hold themselves together with shaking hands.

“I’ll make some calls,” her boss said finally. “Text me your passport info. I’ll have Ari help you at the airport. You’ll be okay.”

“I don’t think I will,” Sua replied.

But she hung up anyway.

Her hands dropped to her sides. For a second, she just stood there in the middle of her apartment, staring at nothing, listening to the buzz of the fridge and the faint hum of the outside world that didn’t know she was crumbling.

And then she moved.

Boxes.

Suitcases.

Trash bags.

Old gift boxes from Seungcheol she couldn’t bear to look at but still folded gently, like they meant something, before laying it on a box.

She packed her books first—quietly, carefully—like she was tucking away pieces of herself. Her memories. Her safety. One by one, she placed them into the cardboard box she used for winter clothes.

Then came the closet. Her sweaters, her dresses, the hoodie she always wore when she was anxious—his hoodie.

She stared at it for too long.

And then she packed it anyway.

It was almost 8 p.m. by the time the last suitcase was zipped. She hadn’t eaten. Barely drank. Her phone was buzzing somewhere in the mess, but she ignored it. She couldn’t look at his name again. Not until she was gone.

But then—

A knock.

Sharp. Sudden. Two beats against the door that made her flinch.

She froze.

The sound was so real it knocked the air out of her.

Her gaze darted to her phone.

Six missed calls.

Four from Minghao.

Two from Seungcheol.

Her stomach twisted.

And then—another knock.

She moved. Legs heavy, bare feet dragging across the wood floors. She opened the door slowly, barely daring to breathe.

It was Minghao.

His hood was up, cap pulled low, mask covering half his face—but she knew those eyes. She’d know them anywhere.

He stepped inside.

And the first thing he did was stare at the boxes.

Then the suitcases.

Then her.

And something inside him shattered.

—

Minghao didn’t speak for a while.

He stood at the doorway, frozen like someone had knocked the air out of his lungs, eyes slowly scanning the room as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The boxes. The open suitcase. The folded clothes. The taped-up memories. Her face.

And then his voice cracked, low and quiet.

“...You’re really doing this.”

Sua looked down at her feet. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Not now. Not when they still held pieces of her past, and maybe worse—reminders of the part of her that almost stayed.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

She didn’t reply. Her fingers curled around the edge of the suitcase, knuckles white. She could still feel the burn behind her eyes, but the tears had dried up hours ago. Now there was just this hollow ache, the kind that sat under your skin like a bruise you couldn’t stop pressing.

Minghao stepped deeper into the room. His steps were slow, tentative—like he was afraid one wrong move would make her disappear completely.

“Does he know?” he asked softly.

Sua shook her head.

His jaw clenched. “And you’re not going to tell him?”

“I can’t.” Her voice cracked this time, barely more than a whisper. “If he knows, he’ll come after me. You know he will.”

“I do,” Minghao said. “Because I would.”

She looked up.

And there it was—that ache again. That quiet, unbearable ache between two people, one who loved the other in silence. His eyes held her like they always had: gently, fully, with everything he never said out loud.

“Minghao—” she started, but her voice broke.

He stepped closer.

“I know I’m not the one you’re in love with,” he said, his voice shaking just slightly. “I know that. But I still can’t let you go like this.”

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“I don’t care,” he said, too fast. Too desperate. “I’d rather see you broken than disappear without a word.”

Sua’s breath caught.

And that’s when he really saw her.

The way her shoulders shook. The puffiness under her eyes. The trembling in her hands even as she tried to hide them. She looked like someone who had used up every last ounce of strength just to survive the day.

And for the first time since they met, Minghao dropped everything.

His mask. His calm. His logic.

He walked to her, fast and silent, and pulled her into the tightest hug he’d ever given anyone. No words. No explanation.

Just him, holding her like he was trying to keep her from falling apart.

Sua melted into him like she’d been waiting for it—like her body had been craving this very thing she didn’t even know she needed. The comfort. The safety. The familiarity.

This was the hug that used to save her before Seungcheol.

And now it only hurt more.

Her knees gave in first. Then the sobs followed—slow at first, then harder, until they ripped out of her like a dam had finally broken. She buried her face in his chest, shaking, her fists gripping the fabric of his hoodie like she could anchor herself to it.

And Minghao just held on tighter.

He said nothing.

Because what could he say?

He didn’t want to be the one she ran to, not like this. Not as a last stop before goodbye. Not when he still loved her in a way that was so painfully, helplessly quiet.

But he would be there anyway.

Always.

Eventually, she pulled back, eyes red and swollen, hair clinging to her cheeks. Her hands were still trembling when she walked back to the half-packed suitcase and zipped it shut.

“I have to finish,” she murmured.

Minghao didn’t move. He watched her quietly, jaw clenched, breathing uneven.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

She hesitated. Then nodded.

And just like that, they went back to the silence.

She packed.

He taped.

They folded clothes they once laughed in. Sorted through books he once borrowed. Moved furniture that had held so many memories they didn’t dare speak of.

And when everything was almost done, and the room started looking less like a home and more like a stranger’s apartment, Minghao finally spoke again.

“I’ll help you get a moving company for this,” he said. His voice was lower now. Defeated.

Sua paused, her back to him.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He sat on the edge of her bed, watching her fold the last sweater.

“Stay,” he said suddenly, almost too soft to hear. “Please.”

Her hands froze.

He didn’t look at her this time. His eyes were on the window. The way the city lights spilled across her walls. The way everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

“You don’t have to go. Not like this. I’ll help you hide if I have to. I’ll talk to them. We’ll figure something out.”

“You know I won’t,” she said, barely audible.

“I know,” he said, just as softly.

Silence.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly between them. Like he was trying to hold himself together.

“I just hate that I’m not enough to make you stay.”

She turned to him, eyes wide, heart breaking all over again.

“Minghao…”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, standing up before she could say anything more. “Don’t say anything.”

She didn’t.

He crossed the room and opened his arms again—and this time, when he pulled her in, she collapsed before he could even close them around her.

And he held her like he always had.

With everything.

Even if he had to let her go.

—

The apartment is silent now, save for the hum of the fridge and the occasional shuffle of paper. Neither of them has spoken much since the move was discussed, but the words that linger in the air feel heavier than anything that’s been said. Minghao hasn’t left, not yet. He’s still here—sitting on the couch, arms crossed, eyes lost in thought as he stares at nothing in particular.

Sua is sitting beside him, close enough that their shoulders brush, but it feels like there’s an ocean between them. She’s exhausted, drained, her mind still tangled in the chaos of the past few hours. Her heart is shattered, and she doesn’t know how to put it back together. How can you fix something when the pieces are scattered everywhere, and you’re too afraid to pick them up?

The clock on the wall ticks on, reminding them both of the time slipping away. It’s nearly 3 AM now, and neither of them has slept. Not that they could. Their bodies are wrecked, but their minds are far worse off.

Minghao glances at her, his gaze soft but filled with worry. He hasn’t asked her if she’s okay. Because he knows the answer. How could she be? How could either of them be?

She hasn’t cried much since the last time. Not out loud, anyway. But he can see the way her shoulders tremble as she folds a shirt in her lap, as if the simple task is the only thing anchoring her to the present. His heart breaks just a little more every time she avoids his gaze, every time she looks away as if she’s trying to disappear.

“I can’t do this, Minghao,” she says quietly, her voice barely audible over the quiet of the room. She’s staring down at the shirt in her hands like it’s the only thing in the world that matters right now. The words slip out of her lips with a finality she can’t take back.

Minghao opens his mouth, then closes it again. There’s nothing to say, really. He’s known all along, hasn’t he? He’s known from the moment she made the decision. He knew the weight of it long before she ever said the words aloud.

“You don’t have to go,” he says softly, but there’s no real hope in his words. He’s just saying them because he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know how to stop this. He doesn’t know how to stop her from leaving.

Sua looks at him then—finally looks at him, her gaze haunted, broken, like the pieces of herself are scattered all over the room. “I do, though. I have to.”

She exhales shakily, and Minghao watches her chest rise and fall, every breath an effort. His heart breaks again, not just for her but for himself. He can’t bear seeing her like this, yet he knows he can’t make her stay.

“I can’t keep doing this, Minghao,” she adds, her voice thick with emotion, though she refuses to let the tears fall. She’s past the point of crying, it seems. “I can’t keep being the reason everything falls apart.”

Her words sting, even though he’s heard them before. He knows what she’s saying, but it doesn’t make it any less painful. He wants to tell her that it’s not her fault—that none of this is her fault. But the words feel empty. Because he knows it won’t make a difference. She has already made her decision.

Minghao shifts on the couch, the ache in his chest almost unbearable now. His hand twitches, wanting to reach out, to take hers, to pull her close and tell her it will be okay. But he doesn’t. Because he knows it won’t be okay. Not this time.

“I just wish…” Minghao starts, but he can’t finish. The words choke in his throat. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Maybe he wishes things were different. Maybe he wishes she could stay, that she didn’t feel like she had to leave. Maybe he just wishes he didn’t feel so powerless.

Sua shifts beside him, and for a moment, she’s so still that Minghao wonders if she’s already gone—if she’s left him without a word, without a look back. But then she turns to him, her eyes wide, vulnerable, as though she’s afraid to show him what’s been happening inside her all along.

“I'll write a letter,” she says, the words barely escaping her lips. “For Seungcheol.”

Minghao’s heart twists at the mention of Seungcheol’s name. He can’t imagine what the letter says, but he doesn’t want to ask. He knows it’s not his place.

Without another word, Sua stands up, and Minghao watches her go to the desk in the corner of the room. She grabs a pen and a piece of paper, the familiar rustling sound of the paper echoing in the otherwise quiet space. She places the paper down with careful precision, her hand hovering over it for a long moment.

Then, she begins to write.

Her handwriting is elegant, careful, the pen gliding across the paper like it’s the only thing she can control right now. As she writes, her brow furrows, and the tears that she’s been holding back for so long finally begin to spill. But she doesn’t stop writing.

She writes, pouring everything she feels into the letter, every bit of sorrow, every apology, every fear she’s tried so hard to bury. She writes the words she can’t say out loud, the things she can never tell Seungcheol in person. The letter becomes a confession, an apology, and a goodbye—all wrapped into one fragile piece of paper.

When she finishes, her hand lingers on the paper for a moment, the ink still fresh. She doesn’t read it again. There’s no need. She already knows what it says. But she can’t shake the feeling that she’s written a final chapter to a story she never wanted to end.

She folds the letter carefully, the crease sharp and deliberate. Then, she hands it to Minghao, her fingers trembling as she presses the paper into his hands.

“Can you give this to him?” she asks quietly, her voice breaking as she fights to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. “When you see him. Can you tell him I’m sorry?”

Minghao looks down at the folded letter in his hands, the weight of it almost too much to bear. His eyes blur, but he doesn’t let the tears fall. Not yet. Not until he’s alone.

“I’ll give it to him,” he says finally, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”

Sua nods, looking down at her hands, almost as if she’s ashamed. “Thank you, Minghao. You’ve always been there for me. You’ve been so good to me.”

Minghao doesn’t know how to respond to that. He wants to tell her that he’s not just a friend, that he’s always wanted more, but now isn’t the time. He can’t make this about him. Not when she’s already hurting so much.

Instead, he just gives her a sad smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and leans back against the couch.

—

The sun comes up too quickly, like a cruel reminder of how time never waits for anyone—especially not for people who are already broken. The air feels different today, colder, heavier, as though the world itself is aware of the gravity of the moment, pressing down on her with a weight too great to bear.

Sua barely notices the bags she’s packed the night before. Her clothes, her books, the small, intimate pieces of her life that once felt so familiar, now seem like foreign objects. It’s like she’s packing up a version of herself that she’ll never get back, closing the door on a chapter she didn’t want to end. The apartment that once held her dreams, her laughter, her pain, is now almost completely bare—echoing with silence, filled only with the remnants of memories.

She doesn’t even look at Minghao when he enters the room, his face a mask of quiet sorrow. She already knows what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. The soft pleading in his eyes is enough to break her all over again, but she can’t let herself go there—not now. Not when the decision has already been made.

She’s leaving. She has to.

Her phone buzzes with a new message. Sua doesn’t look at it at first. She knows who it’s from. Seungcheol. The texts have come in relentlessly all morning, each one more desperate than the last. She hasn’t opened any of them. She can’t. She knows that if she reads one, she won’t be able to leave. She won’t be able to do this to him.

But then, just as she’s about to zip her suitcase shut, her phone buzzes again, louder this time, and she sees the name on the screen. Seungcheol.

She ignores it.

“Are you sure about this?” Minghao’s voice is low, almost a whisper, like he’s afraid the answer will shatter whatever’s left of them. He stands by the doorway, his body tense, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. His posture is stiff, like he’s bracing himself for the storm that he knows is coming.

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she picks up the small picture frame on the desk, the one with a photo of her and Seungcheol laughing at some stupid inside joke, and her heart tightens in her chest. The smile on her face seems so foreign now, so distant. A time when everything was easier, before the weight of their love and their pain had taken over.

“I don’t have a choice,” she finally says, her voice breaking under the strain of the words. “I can’t let him destroy everything for me. For us. For Seventeen. I can’t let him do that.”

Minghao steps closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “And what about you, Sua?” His voice cracks, the vulnerability in it cutting through the coldness in the room. “What about your happiness? Don’t you deserve to fight for what you want too?”

Her throat tightens, and she blinks back the tears that threaten to spill. She hates herself for feeling this way. She wants to fight. She wants to stay. But she knows that it’s not just about her anymore. It’s about Seungcheol, about the people he loves, about the career that’s been built with blood, sweat, and tears. If she stays, it’ll tear everything apart, and she can’t live with that.

“I can’t be the reason he loses everything,” she says softly, almost to herself. “He deserves so much more than me. He deserves to be happy with his members, with his brothers. He doesn’t deserve to fight for me. Not when I’m just…” She chokes on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

Minghao’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face is enough to tell her that he doesn’t agree with her, that he wants her to stay, to fight for herself—for them.

But Sua just shakes her head, the tears finally spilling over, running down her cheeks in a quiet stream. She wipes them away quickly, angry at herself for still caring. Angry at herself for feeling so weak when she should be stronger.

“I’ll never forgive myself if I destroy everything for him. If I’m the reason he loses his family, his career…” Her voice falters. “He’ll hate me.”

Minghao reaches out, his hand hovering in the air as if he wants to comfort her but doesn’t know how. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t let him see the rawness of the pain that’s splitting her apart. Instead, she takes a deep breath and turns back to her suitcase, zipping it up with finality.

She’s done.

“Help me with the rest?” she asks, her voice small, almost too small for the weight of what she’s about to do.

Minghao doesn’t hesitate. He walks over and starts picking up the last few things from the floor, folding them gently before placing them in her suitcase. He doesn’t say a word as he works, but the silence between them is heavy, thick with things neither of them can say. His hands tremble slightly, his eyes flicking to her every few seconds, but he says nothing. He’s already said too much, already begged her too much, and it’s clear that none of it matters.

By the time the last of her things are packed, the apartment feels emptier than it ever did before. It feels like the last vestiges of what could have been are being erased with every movement.

It’s almost time to leave.

Minghao glances at the door, knowing that the moment she walks out of it, things will never be the same. He doesn’t want her to leave, not like this, not with so much unsaid between them, but he knows he doesn’t have the right to stop her.

He knows that no matter what he says, Sua will leave.

As she picks up her suitcase, she hesitates by the door for just a moment, a single glance back at the apartment she’s leaving behind. Her eyes flicker over the space—over everything that once felt like home—and for a brief second, she wonders if she’s making the biggest mistake of her life.

But then, she shakes her head.

No, she tells herself. This is what has to be done. For Seungcheol. For everyone.

—

The airport air always felt cold, no matter what season it is.

Sua wrapped her coat tighter around herself, but no amount of fabric could protect her from the way her chest was collapsing inward. Everything felt sharp. The wheels of her suitcase rolled against the polished tile with a rhythm that sounded too loud in the silence between them—her and Minghao. He walked beside her without a word, face masked, eyes hidden, his hands tucked into his jacket like he didn’t trust them not to reach for her again.

She had barely slept the night before, her limbs trembling as she packed what little life she had left behind. It didn’t feel real. It still didn’t. But there was no turning back.

At the gate, two figures waited.

Ari, cheeks red and puffy, barely held it together the moment she saw Sua. She dropped everything and ran into her arms. “You’re really doing this?” she whispered, breath shaking. “You’re really leaving?”

Sua didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

She only nodded, her lips trembling too hard to form words, and hugged Ari even tighter. She felt her friend’s tears soaking into her shoulder. Then her boss stepped forward, quieter but not any less emotional. She touched Sua’s arm gently.

“You did good,” her boss said. “And you’ll do even better there. I’ll take care of things here. I promised, didn’t I?”

Sua nodded again. Her throat burned from holding back the sob that had been lodged there since dawn. “Thank you,” she rasped. “I’m sorry for doing this so fast—”

“Don’t apologize,” the woman said gently. “This is what I offered, remember? You just finally had the courage to take it.”

The moment felt suspended in air. Too much was left unsaid, and yet everything felt understood.

Sua turned around to face Minghao.

He hadn't moved from his spot since they arrived. He was watching her with eyes full of things he would never say. His hands were clenched in his pockets. His posture stiff. He didn’t cry in front of others. He never did.

But when she reached for him, when she pulled him into a hug—his arms folded around her so tightly, so painfully—it nearly broke him.

He squeezed his eyes shut behind the shades. His shoulders trembled.

“I hate this,” he whispered into her ear. “I hate this so much.”

“I know,” Sua murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry.” His voice cracked. “You’re doing what you have to do, right? You’ve always done that. Even when it hurts you the most.”

She smiled sadly, her fingers clutching the back of his jacket. He still smelled like mint and oakwood. Safe. Familiar. Home—at least the version of it that used to catch her quietly every time she fell.

But he was never the one.

And he knew that.

Still, he stayed until the very end.

Still, he let her go.

When the final call echoed through the speakers, she stepped back slowly. Ari was crying again. Her boss had turned away to wipe her eyes. And Minghao stood still, like a statue carved out of grief, his lips pressed in a tight line, jaw clenched so hard she thought it might crack.

“Tell him…” Sua said quietly, eyes searching his for the last time. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

Minghao nodded once. Not because he agreed. But because he would.

She gave one last glance at the life she was leaving behind—three people who had meant so much in such different ways. Then she picked up her bag, turned toward the gate, and walked away.

Minghao didn’t look away until she was gone from view.

Only then did he let himself cry—quietly, behind his mask, shoulders shaking in silence.

Ari leaned against him, sobbing.

And Sua’s boss placed a gentle hand on his back.

But nothing helped.

Because letting someone go out of love doesn’t make it any less painful.

Sometimes, it hurts even more.

—

The morning Seventeen was scheduled to fly out to Japan, Seungcheol woke up with a strange tightness in his chest. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. No texts left on read, no obvious red flags. And yet—something felt wrong.

He texted Sua.

Good morning. Can’t believe we’re flying out again.

Eat well today, hmm?

No reply.

He figured maybe she was still asleep.

But two hours passed. Then three. Then six.

And she still hadn’t answered.

His messages went from playful to curious to mildly concerned.

Babe?

Are you okay?

You home?

Sua.

Still nothing.

It wasn’t like her. She always texted, even if it was just a sleepy “mhm.” She always made sure he ate, always sent those little emojis he teased her about but secretly loved.

But today—nothing.

By mid-afternoon, dread had already started to spread through his veins. When the manager called to remind them to get ready, he tried not to show it. Tried to smile, crack a joke, be the leader everyone expected him to be. But his hands were shaking when he pocketed his phone.

He called her.

No answer.

He called again.

Straight to voicemail.

At 4:12 PM, he left rehearsal early and went straight to her apartment.

He rang the bell three times.

Knocked until his knuckles turned red.

Nothing. No lights. No sound. Just the silence that told him: she wasn’t there.

His breathing picked up. Panic curled under his ribs like a cold hook.

He texted again, just once.

Please. Just tell me you’re okay.

Behind him, the black van pulled up, their departure to the airport waiting.

He was still staring at the front door when Minghao stepped out of the van and walked toward him.

“Hyung,” Minghao said quietly, eyes unreadable behind his sunglasses.

Seungcheol turned. “She’s not answering.”

Minghao hesitated. Then, without saying anything, he pulled a folded letter out from his coat pocket—crushed slightly at the edges, the ink smudged from the grip of someone who didn’t want to let go.

“What’s that?”

Minghao looked at him for a moment longer. And then handed him the letter. “She asked me to give this to you.”

The van engine hummed faintly behind them. The world kept moving. But in that moment, Seungcheol’s heart stopped.

He opened the letter.

"Seungcheol,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve probably landed somewhere far away by now…

Or maybe I’m still asleep, tucked into the window seat of a plane, drifting somewhere between clouds and dreams.

And you’re still here—holding this letter.

Breathing. Living.

Exactly how I want you to be.

I don’t know how to begin. I don’t even know how to say goodbye properly, Cheol. I never thought I’d have to.

But I love you.

I love you more than I’ve ever known how to love. And I know you love me too. Enough to fight for me. Enough to throw everything away just to keep me beside you.

That’s why I had to go.

Because I love you too much to let you do that.

You’ve worked so hard, for so long. I’ve seen it in your eyes—in the way you pour yourself into every song, every show, every moment you spend building a world that was never easy to carry.

You gave it your all.

And I can’t be the reason you burn it down.

I can’t let your heart choose me if it means you’ll lose everything you’ve bled for. I couldn’t live with that. I’d never forgive myself if I became the thing you had to sacrifice it all for."

He read it.

Every line. Every sentence.

Each word falling like a knife.

A poem written in heartbreak. A confession dressed in goodbye.

His vision blurred halfway through.

"So I left. Quietly. Quickly.

I didn’t give you a chance to stop me, because if you did… I know I would’ve stayed. You’d look at me and I’d break. I’d crumble.

You always did that to me, you know?

You made me feel safe. Real. Like I belonged somewhere in this world.

I’m sorry I called Minghao instead of you. I know how much that must hurt, and I hate that I did it—but I had to. I needed someone who wouldn’t try to make me stay.

You would’ve begged.

And I would’ve said yes.

Please don’t blame him. He didn’t want this either.

I don’t know where life will take me after this. I don’t know how long it’ll be before we meet again.

But if we’re meant for each other… if this love of ours really was something the universe carved into our bones—then we’ll find our way back. Someday.

Until then, don’t come looking for me. Don’t try to chase a shadow.

Just… live.

Sing. Laugh. Be happy.

And when the night gets too quiet and you miss me, I hope you remember that I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you.

I left because I couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason you lost yourself.

So live, Seungcheol. For me. For all of us.

And when it’s time… I’ll see you again.

Always,

Sua."

He clutched the paper like it was alive. Like if he held it hard enough, she’d come back.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice a low quake.

“I don’t know,” Minghao said honestly. “She didn’t tell me.”

Seungcheol stared at him. Silent. Wrecked.

But he didn’t say another word.

—

The knock came just past midnight. Sharp. Panicked. Unrelenting.

Minghao had barely finished drying his hair when he opened the door.

And there he was.

Seungcheol—flushed from the cold Osaka air, jaw clenched, eyes feral with panic. The moment Minghao appeared, Seungcheol shoved past him, storming inside like he couldn't breathe unless he was moving.

“Where is she?”

His voice was already fraying.

Minghao froze. “Cheol—”

“Where is she, Minghao?” he snapped, turning around. His whole chest rose and fell like he’d just run from the airport. “Tell me where she is.”

“I don’t know.”

“You were with her.”

“Yes,” Minghao said, quietly.

“You gave me that fucking letter!”

“I still don’t know where she went, Cheol.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying—!” Minghao’s voice raised a fraction, and it was enough to make both of them go still.

Seungcheol’s breathing turned ragged, hands trembling by his sides.

“She left because of me,” he said, voice cracking like dry wood. “Because I wasn’t careful. Because I let it all get too loud. Because I fought with the members, and the company, and I—”

He bit down on the rest of the sentence, but it was too late. The guilt had already poured out, too raw to hold back.

“She told you, didn’t she?” he whispered. “She told you why she left.”

Minghao looked away.

That was answer enough.

Seungcheol’s face twisted. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because she knew you’d drop everything for her!” Minghao’s voice snapped like a whip. “She knew you’d burn the whole world down if it meant keeping her, and she didn’t want that blood on your hands, Seungcheol!”

“Then she should’ve let me make that choice!” Seungcheol shouted.

The room echoed with his words.

Minghao clenched his jaw. “You think it didn’t kill her to leave? You think she just walked out like it was easy?”

Seungcheol’s fists balled at his sides. “She called you. Not me.”

That one hurt deeper than it should have.

“I was the only one she could call,” Minghao said, voice lower now, but heavy with hurt. “Because if she called you, she would’ve stayed. You would’ve begged, and she would’ve stayed—and she didn’t want to ruin you.”

“I wouldn’t have let her go,” Seungcheol said through gritted teeth.

“I know,” Minghao whispered. “That’s exactly why she had to ran.”

A silence followed. Thick. Devastating. Alive with pain.

“I was supposed to protect her,” Seungcheol said, breaking again. “I promised I would. I swore I’d never let anyone hurt her.”

“You didn’t,” Minghao said softly, stepping closer. “But you would’ve hurt yourself if she stayed. She chose you over her own heart, Cheol.”

Seungcheol sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. His hands covered his face as if trying to hold in the grief swelling inside him. But it broke free anyway—spilling in tremors down his spine, in wet gasps behind his palms.

And Minghao—God, he couldn’t stand it.

Because while Seungcheol mourned the loss of the love of his life…

Minghao mourned the loss of both of them.

The girl he loved, and the brother he couldn’t fix.

He stepped forward and dropped down beside Seungcheol again, knees to the cold floor, just like before.

“You’re not the only one hurting, hyung.”

Seungcheol looked at him through red eyes, broken. “You love her.”

“I still love her,” Minghao admitted, tears silently streaming down. “But she was never mine.”

Seungcheol looked down at his hands, the ones that used to hold her like she was the center of his universe. Now they were empty. Useless. Shaking.

“I didn’t even say goodbye…”

Minghao’s throat tightened. He didn’t answer. Just leaned forward and pulled Seungcheol into a trembling embrace.

And for a moment, neither of them were idols.

They weren’t artists, leaders, dancers, performers.

They were just two men—two broken hearts—mourning the same girl in two completely different ways.

Seungcheol cried until his chest ached. Until his eyes burned. Until he couldn’t breathe without tasting her name in his mouth.

And Minghao stayed beside him the entire time. Silent. Steady.

Hurting.

Because some love stories don’t end in fireworks or forever.

Some end in hotel rooms far from home, with nothing but unsent messages, unanswered questions, and letters written by hand.

And still—

Even as the pain swallowed them whole—

They couldn’t hate her for it.

Because she left to protect him.

Because she loved him that much.

Because she had to.

──────────────────────────────

See you guys again soon ;)

Full series:

<3

[hoshingi]

S.COUPS ✯ 250321 Left & Right

[yooniebub]

CSC pt. 1

don't play games (my heart is too fragile) - @cheers-to-you-th

Getting addicted to watching hot men play video games was definitely not on your year's bingo card. Getting addicted to watching Choi Seungcheol of all people? The idea would have been laughable.

complete mess - @straylightdream

life is hard, and he can’t take the weight of the world that feels like it’s on his shoulders. when he asked you to run away with him you can’t imagine saying no.

sneaky link - @aaagustd

pov: you can't stand the b*tch, but her brother's fine as f*ck.

movie night - @/aaagustd

so full of love - @ylangelegy

confessed by the wrong person - @joooooniecore

PLOT: a reunion changes everything between you and your best friend Seungcheol. A revengeful confession. Will you both be able to find each other back? Or drift apart?

pretty please (series) - @hongcherry

After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol’s obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?

untitled - @pochaccoups

untitled - @/pochaccoups

hockey player! cheol - @thepixelelf

April shower - @svtiddiess

The April shower may have crashed your picnic date, but with Seungcheol and Kkuma by your side, the rain didn’t matter.

I'll be home - @kkaetnipjeon

it's your first christmas apart from seungcheol, and you can hardly stand it.

to catch where you fall - @/kkaetnipjeon

untitled - @wqnwoos

I'm not coming home for Christmas - @frakts1ya

first time having sex with seungcheol in a new relationship - @hoshifighting

dilf! cheol - @/hoshifighting

co-worker! cheol - @/hoshifighting

After years of being Mr. Choi's personal secretary, you had become accustomed to the dynamics of working closely with him. However, fate had brought about a change – Mr. Choi's son, Seungcheol, would now be taking over the company. Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol had harbored a secret crush on you for years.

bsf! cheol watching you ride a dildo - @/hoshifighting

(sulky) lover of mine - @monamipencil

starlit reset - @cherry-zip

Seungcheol falls asleep on the couch after a long day, and you tenderly take care of him. They share a quiet, loving moment, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

where are the vibes? - @daechwitatamic

Seungcheol always gives you what you need. Today, he's gonna make you ask for it first.

[12:29 am] - @soonyoungs

"is there a reason why you're naked in my bed?" - @ssentimentals

untitled - @seungcheorry

pulse - @coupsiedaisee

we need to talk - @100vern

sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide.

tomorrow tonight - @cheolbooluvr

making the bed - @shuafiles

you and seungcheol’s marriage is hanging on by a thread. separate rooms, broken conversations, and barely any contact, it's clear that what you once had is slipping away. desperate for a second chance, you both turn to couples therapy, but when intimacy—or the lack of it—becomes the topic of conversation, everything changes.

ghosted - @husbandhoshi

[luluy33art]

Forgot to write it down but the first pic is 16 y/o Chloe in her school uniform before she is sent back and in the second one I just wanna tried to draw Chloe in her new design after returning to Paris

Support me on Kofi | Patreon

[kimingyuslover]

You once mentioned his group name, and now he's down bad for you. The worst part? his teammates seem to always tease him about it, but the best part? you answer his message.

★ part 2 in one day???? my brain is on the same page with me /jk. This is supposed to be the new year's special, but i am too lazy to think anything for the plot, so enjoy xoxo.

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YOU MAKE ME WANNA MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Seungcheol cheeks blushed for the first time in a few minutes when you just left him on read all night, and he's an overthinker– that's for sure. He even went back and forth in front of his tv, reading the messages he sent over and over again, until he finally gave in to his deep slumber.

He wakes up at 7.00 a.m. and there's still no reply from you, so he man up himself and decided to text you one more time, and if you're not answering him again, he might just die out of embarrassment.

he hit send at 7.20 and you reply it right away.

Now, how can he not get any happier? Everyone deserves a second chance, don't you think? Well, except they're bad, and Seungcheol cosidered himself as the luckiest man on earth right now.

Oh, he's so bragging to his teammates

Maybe it's not a great idea, but hey? He thinks it's great and he doesn't have any topic other than that, he's too nervous and well so he type something by the keyboard.

He feels uptight that he feels the need to drink some more water and open a few of his pajama's buttons.

Suddenly, he feels like a giddy teenager all over again with the shy antics and the uneasy feelings.

But he's not a quiter, he says, so he hit the send logo and shut his phone and just waiting for you to agree to his plan— it's for the best.