#chanhee angst

[kimsohn]

even if the world caves in,

pairing . chanhee x gn! reader (ft. vernon of seventeen) about . 13.5k words, fluff + angst, e2l fake-dating warnings . smoking, alcohol, cursing, suggestive (allusions to sex at the end), descriptive food mentions, y/n and chanhee are idiots chanhee lowkey doesn't deserve y/n, the plot kinda doesn't make sense but fuck it we ball ok, pls lmk if i missed things bc i probably did, also i wrote most of this at ungodly hours of the night and this is not proofread take this as your warning

synopsis . after your big break in cinema, the last thing on your mind is a relationship. unfortunately for you, the public has other plans, forcing you together with the journalist who's entire career is dedicated to your downfall. note . this is my submission for @deoboyznet's secret santa fic exchange! hihi @heemingyu i'm your secret santa!! (i'm so sorry this is like two days late and probably rushed forgive me) i went through like four different plots before settling on this one and writing it in one week 😭 i hope you enjoy!!! also thank you to @juyeonszn for staying up until 6am to beta for me what the fuck. ilysm. tagging . @invuwrld @gfksn @stealanity

Lately, the only thing that seems to greet you is the buzzing sound of your phone, incessant until silenced by your tired fingers.

You reach over as you stir awake, the action almost second nature to you as your hand catches ahold of the sleek object. You hit random buttons until your desired effect comes into play, answering the phone call and putting it on speaker, and you already know who it is before their voice even drifts through the microphone.

“Y/N! Get your ass up, you’re on the headlines.”

“Again?” you whine, rolling over in bed. “Is it good news or bad news this time?”

The man on the other end laughs, bitterly, and you push yourself off the bed in response. Your manager laughing, especially like that, is nothing amusing, and you rub your eyes as you try to get yourself awake.

“Oh, it’s bad, alright. Open your fucking phone, Y/N.”

You do exactly that, immediately thumbing over to Twitter and seeing your name trending. Afraid of which one of your many stupid decisions has made the headlines today, you press the hashtag, cringing at the first picture.

“Of course, they got pictures of me drunk,” you mutter, scrolling through the list. “Wasn’t this Juyeon’s private party, like months ago? How did these photos leak?”

“It doesn’t matter Y/N,” your manager sighs from the other side, and you feel a twinge of guilt for always putting him through this situation, “you’re an actor. Nothing in your life is private anymore, especially you pole dancing on top of the bar.”

Your facial muscles twitch as you come across the aforementioned picture, seeing yourself busting out dance moves on the marble. You have to hold back a laugh, seeing how something so ridiculously insignificant is dragging your name through the mud right now.

“But Vernon, you have to admit, the pictures are kinda hot.”

He grumbles on the other side before he cuts the call, and you fall into bed giggling, scrolling through other pictures. You have a cigarette in one hand and a tequila glass in the other, and that explains why you remember absolutely nothing about that day.

A text notification appears at the top of your screen, and you swipe down to see none other than Vernon who you were on call with five seconds ago. He’s sent you the link to an article followed by a message.

This is the article that leaked the video. Check out the name.

You click on the link, and your face falls at the name of the website. It falls even more when you see the name of the writer, and you press your fingers to your forehead. You immediately call Vernon again, watching the phone ring twice before he picks up.

“Can we fucking blacklist him, Vernon?” you seethe, gripping your phone tightly.

“I’m afraid not. He’s just a journalist, not a stalker.”

“He might as well be with the way he’s always up to date with my private information.”

You punch your pillow, watching your fist pathetically curl into the bedding. It doesn’t have its intended effect, only reminding you of how weak you are physically and mentally. You don’t get into scandals often, probably because you’re a rare, good person in the horrible field that is Hollywood, but whenever you do, you have one journalist to thank for it.

“I told you, nothing is private in your life anymore.”

Vernon goes off on a tangent about how you should’ve been more careful, how you shouldn’t have drunk your ass off, but you can’t find it within you to care. There was technically nothing wrong with what you did (except for maybe the indecency, but it’s a bar for fuck’s sake), but as a famous actor with a huge fanbase, you understand why your manager is angry. Dancing on top of a counter and smoking should not be the kind of precedent you set for your fans, especially the younger ones, and your actions have a lot more weight to them now that you’re in the public eye.

It’s just stupid because you’re a regular person. At the very least, you deserve to have some privacy regarding decisions you make, especially ones that are so insignificant. 

“Vernon,” you interrupt, “it’s okay. My movie is coming out later this week, so I think it’ll die down quickly.”

“I know, but you’re lucky that this was a trivial issue. If you get caught in something truly fucked up, another movie won’t be able to save you.”

“I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

He hangs up, reminding you that you have a screening to attend later today and an interview. Your eyes drift back to the article again, reading the headline.

Hollywood’s favorite celebrity turned dancer.

You shut your eyes, breathing in and out so you don’t lose your composure. The universe is lucky you’re a rational, decent human being because if you weren’t, the writer who’s been practically harassing you would’ve been long eliminated by now.

Choi Chanhee, you read, familiar with the name. The infamous writer that’s always on your tail. It’s as if he dedicates his whole life to ruining you because he’s always the first to write things that make your crown slip. Almost all of your scandals, from particularly stupid ones at the beginning of your career to your most recent one, have been written by him. He’s practically obsessed with you at this point, and you don’t know what it is about you that ticks him off.

You toss your phone to the side, trudging over to the bathroom to get ready. Unlike Chanhee, you don’t have the time or patience to worry about trivial things like gossip pages. Choi Chanhee is just one, minor obstacle in your way. Just someone insignificant.

A long time ago, the flashing lights of cameras would’ve blinded you. Now, as a seasoned actor, you’re quite immune to the brightness that surrounds you when you walk the red carpet. You smile and pose, reveling in the cameras and the interviews that follow, asking for details about your current movie and the process behind the scenes.

You’ve just finished off an interview about the movie’s wardrobe when a black-haired man comes up to you. The lens of his thick glasses shines against the cameras in the background, and you have to look down to avoid the glare from the reflection.

You read his name tag and your face drops. You immediately look up, putting on a forced grin.

“Choi Chanhee. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He smiles, and the corners of his mouth curl as if he knows of your extensive distaste for him.

“It seems you know who I am already. Let’s get started with the interview then. First question: do you have anything to say regarding your latest scandal at the bar?”

You’re gritting through your teeth as you answer.

“No comment. Next question, please.”

“What are your opinions on the latest controversy surrounding Lee and Co., the production company behind your movie?”

He fires off a few questions, all as controversial as the last, and the only thing that keeps you from slapping him right there and then is your media training that Vernon had drilled into you while in the car.

“He will be there,” Vernon had said, fixing your watch, “don’t give him anything to work with. Just focus on promoting your movie.”

You’ve followed his advice for the solid ten minutes Chanhee has bombarded you, but even your patience is wearing thin. You’re tired of being asked about the same scandals repeatedly from different angles, and you have to admit that even if he’s doing an amazing job as a journalist, it’s not looking good for your conscience.

“Chanhee,” you interrupt, watching him pause in the middle of a question, “do you have any substantial questions about the movie, or are we done here?”

His face contorts as if he had just been thrown tomatoes at, and the devil in your brain beams from his expression. He flips through his notes, flicking through a couple of pages before landing on one that’s up to his liking.

“Okay, one last question then. Who was your favorite person to work with during this movie?”

You pause, mulling over the question. You watch as his eyes traverse his notes, and you wonder what trick he has up his sleeve. You guess that he will probably bring up something about the person who’s name you’ll recite, so you think carefully before answering.

“I don’t have one particular favorite. I love them all,” you answer honestly and safely, with no room for scrutiny.

He nods, shutting off the recorder before packing his bag and giving you a slight bow. The narcissist in your brain revels in how good he looks bowing down to you, but you pay your respects in return.

“Thank you for your time, Y/N.”

You watch as he saunters off, probably off to his crew, and you blink a few times before shifting your attention to the next reporter with an eager smile.

Hours later, you find yourself outside, exchanging the chaos inside for a fresh breath of air. Your director has indulged in an after-party, one you’re grateful for too, but after a couple of glasses of wine and many more hours of talking to fellow celebrities, you need a moment of solitude.

 The air outside is crisp and cool, and you find yourself wishing you’d brought your jacket out to accompany you. Your vision is slightly blurry and your stance is wobbly, but you find a bench nearby to take a seat at. You stare at the pond across from you for a while, throwing rocks into the water and watching how far they travel.

A cigarette accompanies you, and the puffs of air you release are visual representations of how relaxed you want to feel. You’ve just released a movie, and you should be thankful, but as an actor, your mind never rests due to the endless possibilities you can ponder over. Moments like these where you find yourself completely alone, with nothing to worry about, are rare, and you try to curb your mind from ruining the moment by overthinking.

However, your moment of peace is interrupted by a loud shutter behind you, and you quickly turn around, afraid of what the paparazzi would say if they caught you like this. A figure disappears around the corner, but as you hear the clacking of their footsteps, you know exactly who it must be.

“Chanhee, I know it’s you.”

Moments pass before he steps out from behind the wall, holding a camera in his hands. The object, in contrast to the suit he wears, is so uncoordinated that you burst into a fit of laughter, over-emotional from the wine you had earlier.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks cautiously, treading the waters.

“I didn’t know you were a photographer too! You’re an all-rounder for sure.”

“Look,” he whispers as if his guilt will excuse his actions, “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You pat the empty space next to you. “Here, sit next to me.”

He takes a seat warily, as if you have a gun in your hands, but relaxes once he sees you dangling your feet. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be sitting next to you, heck, even interacting with you, but you don’t seem to really mind as you throw another rock into the water.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, staring at him with glossy eyes. “What did I do that was so wrong?”

“Are you drunk?” he asks instead, realizing this isn’t the pristine condition he saw you in a couple of hours ago.

“It doesn’t matter,” you sniffle. “What did I do to make you absolutely despise me?”

Chanhee sighs, staring at the ripples in the pond. He picks up a rock, swinging it as far as he can before it settles to the bottom of the pool. It goes way farther than any of the rocks you’d thrown before, and you pout miserably as you cease your ministrations.

“It’s my job. I get paid for writing about your downfall.”

“But… you don’t have to be so mean about it.”

Chanhee recognizes that he won’t get anywhere with this argument because you’re drunk, so instead, he turns to you, placing his hands on your shoulders so you look at him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Here, I won’t even post the pictures that I took today.”

He deletes the pictures from his camera, showing you after it’s done, and you surprise him by throwing your arms around him. You’re too far gone to realize the weight of your actions, but he isn’t, so he tries to gently pry them off his shoulders.

“Thank you,” you whisper after he’s done, slumping across the bench half-asleep, “thank you for being nice. For once.”

He blinks once, twice, before he exhales, turning around on his heel and disappearing into the darkness. Later, when Vernon picks you up from the bench, you tell him that a pretty fairy saved you from disaster. He won’t believe you, but you know it’s true in your heart.

You’re nursing your hangover when you decide to turn on the news. You settle into your comfortable couch, holding a bowl of hangover soup and trying not to succumb to the pain radiating throughout your forehead.

Not often do you watch the news, choosing to opt out because it’s usually annoying and gives you a headache, but Vernon’s somehow using two devices to watch his show on Netflix so you’re forced to resort to this. You think you might die if you don’t distract yourself from the migraine that’s been occupying your senses, so the news will have to suffice.

You flick through the channels, not interested in the politics or the weather, but your fingers pause when a bright pink headline catches your eye. It’s the gossip channel, and this is usually the channel you’re warned to stay far away from, but you can’t help but watch the video playing when the headline specifically features your name.

Y/N caught in a secret relationship, embracing a secret lover by the pond.

Your mood turns sour when the clip features events from last night, ones that are still fuzzy in your brain. You didn’t expect to be reliving this situation, but your heart all but drops when you realize the snippet features you and Chanhee in the frame, hugging each other as if you had indeed been lovers. The worst part is that Chanhee didn’t even reciprocate, but that isn’t featured in the headline, so it truly does look like you two have a thing for each other.

This time around, you call Vernon first instead of the usual.

“Y/N,” he whispers groggily as if you had woken him up, “what happened?”

“Please turn on the fucking news Vernon.”

You hear shuffling from the other side, a few minutes of rustling before you hear the blaring of the TV and a similar sound drifting through his microphone. You get a few minutes of pin-drop silence before all hell breaks loose.

“Who the fuck is that?!” he exclaims, and you hear his feet angrily pacing around. “Was this last night? I thought I told you to be more careful, to look out for your surroundings—”

“Vernon, it’s Chanhee.”

The only thing you hear from Vernon is his angered breaths, and it takes mere seconds before you burst into tears, fed up by this situation and the terrible migraine you still have. You just want to curl up into a ball and never step foot into the universe again, and your resolve only strengthens when the line goes dead. You can’t help the tears that come to bay, rippling through you like a shockwave that never seems to end.

Insistent knocking at your door a few moments later is the only thing that stops the tears from falling, and you quickly wipe them before opening the door. Vernon stands at the other side, his hands in his pockets and eyebags above his cheeks, but his gaze softens when he sees your puffy eyes and you hugging yourself.

He brings you into his embrace, your tears staining his hoodie, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care. Vernon just caresses your back, knowing the only thing you need right now is a gesture of comfort, and you burrow into his chest further. Right here, in the middle of your entryway, Vernon provides you with the best version of reassurance he can offer: a simple, caring hug.

“I was drunk,” you mutter when you’ve calmed down, speaking through the sniffles that escape you, “and we were just talking. You know I get touchy when I’m tipsy.”

“I figured,” he says, unraveling himself from your embrace. “Does the press know it’s him?”

“No, but I expect they’ll find out soon enough.”

You follow him as he takes a seat on the couch, watching the headlines on the TV. The gossip channel has long moved on from your news, but you haven’t, and fear of what will happen to either you or Chanhee is killing you.

“We need to contact him before then,” he voices, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “I think I know someone from his office.”

“Wait, why?” you ask, trying to peer over at his phone, watching him scroll through his contacts. “Wouldn’t it just be best to let the rumors die down?”

“If this was a celebrity, we could’ve done that. But Chanhee is a regular human being, and this could potentially destroy his career.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” you murmur under your breath, watching Vernon deadpan.

“Look, I know you hate him, but he doesn’t deserve to be criticized for something he didn’t even do. Let’s just talk to him and see what he has to say, okay?”

You nod, falling back on the couch. The migraine still bothers you, and you rub your fingers across your forehead to massage it.

Five days ago, you would never have expected to be in this position. To you, Chanhee was just a name on a screen, a faceless figure haunting your dreams. How fitting is it that his very first encounter with you led to your worst nightmare?

You hear Vernon dial his contact, watching the phone ring several times before a line picks up. Vernon speaks gratefully, grabbing the pen and paper that you have lying around on your coffee table as he scribbles down some information.

“We have a meeting,” he says, showing you the piece of paper, “in five hours. Be ready by then.”

Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

The bright lights and white walls in the meeting room make it look like a prison cell, and the atmosphere does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. You’re tapping your foot anxiously, sitting in an unfamiliar space in an unfamiliar building, but Chanhee requested a meeting in his office building, and you have no other choice but to go with it.

You’d be lying if you said you were nonchalant about the whole atmosphere, but you try to keep yourself composed as you wait for him to enter. Vernon sits beside you, going through some papers in his briefcase that only a manager would know about, and his presence is the only thing keeping you grounded right now.

“Just let me do the talking, okay?” he’d said before entering, “The last thing we need is another argument on our hands.”

Even though the comment offended you, you honestly would be better off trusting his judgment. You and Chanhee don’t exactly have the best track record, and if either one of you says something even slightly off, the room would probably explode into insults. You honestly don’t even have the strength anyway to hold up a fight, so you slump into your chair, adjusting your jacket and reeling in your patience.

The doorknob twists and you and Vernon straighten your postures, trying to look presentable for your audience. Chanhee enters, followed by a blonde-haired who you’d assume to be his boss, and you rise so you can shake their hands. Chanhee ignores your attempt at waving a white flag, choosing to shake Vernon’s instead before sitting down at a seat, but his boss smiles and grabs your palm tightly in his.

“Hello, I’m Sangyeon. It’s nice to meet you.”

You exchange pleasantries as you sit down, and once you get over the initial awkwardness, you shut your mouth and wait for Vernon to speak up.

“So, I’m sure you guys have seen the news and are well aware of why we’re here.”

Sangyeon nods, urging him to continue.

“I understand what you might be feeling right now Chanhee,” Vernon follows, catching Chanhee’s gaze, “and we’re extremely sorry for the trouble that this has caused you. However, I have a proposition that might benefit both parties, if you are interested.”

Chanhee’s silence prompts Vernon’s explanation, and you lean in, curious about what he has to say too. Vernon had offhandedly mentioned that he had a deal to make, but you don’t have the slightest clue as to what he’s about to propose.

“I was thinking we play into the rumors. We can say Y/N and Chanhee met at a press conference and hit it off a couple of weeks ago. After we plan a few more appearances, we can stage a public breakup in a few weeks so that everything can go back to normal.”

You blanch, ready to refuse the idea, but Chanhee beats you to it.

“Why would I agree to a relationship with Y/N?”

“Hey,” you start, offended by his implications, “what’s wrong with dating me?”

Chanhee scoffs.

“Don’t even start, Y/N. This is all your fault after all. I didn’t know you liked me that much that you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

You’re seeing blood red, crazed at the malice behind his words.

“I was tipsy! And how was I supposed to know that someone was stalking us? If anything, it was your fault for deleting those pictures and being nice to me.”

The room erupts into chaos as you throw petty insults at each other, similar to a catfight. It takes Vernon holding you back physically to get you to calm down, but even after you’ve calmed down, you’re still staring daggers at him.

“Look, Chanhee, I understand this is not ideal for either of you given the nature of your jobs. But if you think about it, when the press finds out that it’s you in the picture, how will you be able to resume your writing? Who will take you seriously if you write hate articles about the very person that you were caught with?” Vernon asks, trying to reason with him.

Chanhee falls into silence, and he looks at his manager. His manager offers him a pitiful glance, knowing that Vernon is right.

“You don’t have to be lovey-dovey with each other,” Vernon continues, hoping to ease the terms. “You just have to appear in public for a couple of dates. We can use your old articles to prove that you guys have had romantic tension, so we’ll have background evidence too. When Y/N breaks your heart in a couple of weeks, you’ll have the perfect reason to continue writing hate articles.”

“It’s like enemies to lovers to… enemies, right?” Sangyeon asks, humming after Vernon nods, “I think it’s a good idea Chanhee. You’ll gain a lot more exposure after the whole thing is over too. If we continue going as it is, the press will ruin your career, and I’d have no other choice but to fire you. I think this is the best decision for your future and the company.”

Chanhee sighs, rubbing his temples. As much as you despise him, you can sympathize with the fact that he has a difficult decision looming over his head. The fate of his career rests in your hands, the person he’s dedicated a lifetime to ruining, and you can imagine just how insane his internal conflict might be.

“I’ll do it,” you voice, watching the room’s reactions carefully.

Chanhee’s eyes shoot up at you, clearly not expecting your admission.

“I would hate to be the reason you had to quit something you love. Besides, I’ve been in too many scandals recently anyway; I think a relationship could do my career some good.”

You don’t know if your attempt at a joke resonated with him, but his shoulders relax and he bores his eyes into you. His eyes are sharp and feline-like, but his brown pupils are almost the exact opposite, thoughtful and deep. He’s a little pretty, you realize, when he’s not trying to sabotage your entire career.

You’ve tried to stay level-headed after your argument earlier, as a gesture to Vernon, but you can’t contain your surprise when he nods a few minutes later.

“Okay, I’ll go with your plan. But I want four weeks, not five.”

“Deal,” you say, reaching over with an open palm before Vernon can even say anything.

This time around, Chanhee does reciprocate your gesture, shaking your hand firmly. The white flag flies freely over your heads, and you can only pray that these next four weeks will be over just as quickly as they started.

The news blows up fairly quickly after it’s published, even faster than any of the scandals you’ve been in. After the announcement your companies sent out confirming your relationship, you posted a picture of Chanhee to your Instagram story to show support from your side. Never have you garnered so many notifications in a single day, but you’re not complaining. You suppose your fans have also been waiting for you to get into a serious relationship, seeing that you’ve been single since your acting debut, so the update is received with a mostly positive reaction that you’re thankful for.

However, just the news and a picture alone aren’t going to cut it. Arguably, the hardest part of this whole ordeal is your interactions with Chanhee, making your relationship believable enough so your fans don’t think this is the PR stunt like it really is. Your first order of business is taking Chanhee along on a date tonight to a movie premiere, the first actual public appearance you two will be making.

To say you’re nervous is an understatement. The last time you saw Chanhee, it took Vernon’s presence to stop you from biting his head off. How will you even survive a whole event together, let alone act like a couple?

You tell Chanhee to show up a couple of hours earlier so you can plan out the details, unable to keep your nervousness at bay. You don’t know if Chanhee is as anxious as you, but Vernon always says it’s good to stick to a plan, so calling him over isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.

Actually, it might be a little bit bad.

“Wow,” you say, your throat suddenly parched from seeing his clothing, “you clean up nicely.”

Nice is the simplest you could describe his outfit. He’s wearing a black suit, indented polka dots scattered across the black cloth. Paired with a white shirt underneath and matching tie, along with those round glasses that are definitely growing on you, he looks just like another A-list celebrity in the crowd. Maybe even a model if you would care to admit it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, unbuttoning the jacket to strew it across your couch, “it’s kinda hot in here, no?”

You would agree, but your mind is currently occupied with how delicious he looks in just a simple white shirt and a tie. You have half a mind to tell him that he really should quit his job and become a model instead, but you settle for nodding instead.

“It’s probably because of all the facial stuff we did earlier,” your stylist Kevin says, walking over to place clips in your hair, “it’ll calm down in a little bit.”

Chanhee’s eyes widen when Kevin enters, his eyes staring at you in panic and moving over to Kevin before they travel back to you. You laugh, amused with how seriously he’s playing the part.

“He knows,” you reassure him, “most of my close staff know, so you don’t need to worry.”

Chanhee exhales in relief, his head drooping down into his arms. Kevin meets your gaze before quirking an eyebrow, and you shake your head, not wanting to indulge in his teasing.

“Okay,” Chanhee says after he’s calmed down, leaning into the couch, “what’s the plan?”

“Well, since this is our first time in public together, we can keep it simple,” you start, wincing when Kevin tugs on part of your hair a little too hard, “maybe holding hands, walking next to each other, maybe a hug if we’re up for it.”

Chanhee looks disgusted, and you honestly can’t even disagree with him. You’re not exactly happy about jumping straight into skin-to-skin contact with the guy you hate, but this is the bare minimum for a relationship and you intend to follow through.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you sigh. “You do know that we’re going to have to kiss at some point, right? This is probably the tamest we’ll get.”

“Hey, don’t haunt the poor guy,” Kevin says, pulling out a makeup palette. “Just take it slow, okay? It’ll be a while before you get to that stage.”

You disappear into your bedroom to change after Kevin is done with your styling, and Chanhee visibly relaxes once you’re gone. It’s not like he wants to murder you with every fiber of his being, but something about you puts him on edge, and he can’t tell what it is.

“Are you still stressed about the kissing thing, dude?” Kevin asks while packing up his supplies. “Y/N’s just saying that to scare you, so don’t worry. Besides, after you see them in this outfit, you might change your mind.”

Kevin leaves with a wink, and Chanhee is left to scramble for its implications. You can’t possibly look good enough to kiss, right? He’s seen you countless times, and the only time his resolve ever-so-slightly wavered was when he saw you in person about a week ago. That was because you were drunk, though, of course. Not because he was facing you, flesh to flesh, for the first time in his life.

His overthinking ceases though when you step out of your bedroom, and he can’t stop Kevin’s words from floating through his brain.

You’re beauty personified, he thinks, from the tips of your curled hair to the bottom of your glass footwear. The silver-length outfit you adorn is something to die for, heck, you are someone to die for, and Chanhee can’t even breathe because he just imagined you standing next to him and the room is suddenly very, very hot.

“Ready to go?” you ask, adjusting a couple of rings on your fingers.

Chanhee dumbly nods, now realizing why literally everyone is in love with you, and he stands abruptly. He follows you to the front like a puppy dog before you turn around and start giggling. He doesn’t even register you speaking because suddenly, your giggles aren’t annoying and all of your sounds are like songbirds from heaven.

“You forgot your blazer, silly. Here, I’ll get it.”

While you turn back around, walking to the sofa, Chanhee slaps himself. Gently, of course, because he doesn’t want to ruin his face before the red carpet, but just enough to remind himself of his position in this whole scheme. You’re a celebrity, obviously you look good, and he can’t lose his morals just because you look stunning after being dolled up.

You’re a celebrity and he’s a journalist. A journalist who gets paid to antagonize you. Realistically speaking, even just meeting you should have him seeing red. He should not of all things, be pretending to date you, and he definitely should not be reconsidering his life decisions after spending two hours with you.

He just has to get through these four weeks. You’ll be out of sight, out of mind before he even knows it.

“When the cameras start flashing, just look forward. Don’t ever look at them straight in the eye, otherwise, you’ll feel dizzy.”

Chanhee grumbles as you continue rambling, but you can’t find it within you to stop. You’ve never had a public relationship like this, especially with someone who’s not a celebrity, so the desire for perfection is getting to you.

Any small thing could fuck this up and not only ruin Chanhee’s career but yours too. What would the public think if they found out you were lying about a relationship? Heck, you wouldn’t be able to trust your own self after that, let alone the public.

“Y/N, it’ll be okay. It’s just handholding and a hug, right?”

“Yeah, but we need to look like we’re in love,” you huff, your head drooping as you play with your fingers in your lap.

You feel a hand cup the side of your chin, bringing you up to Chanhee’s gaze.

“Look at me,” he starts, thumbing your cheek, “we’ll be fine. Just stare into my eyes like this, and no one will ever doubt us.”

You don’t get to tell him that you might be believing it too with the way you can’t stop gazing at the twinkle in his eyes and the fondness in how they crease. You’ve met many gorgeous celebrities in your life, but not once have you ever felt your heart beat so heavily until this moment.

“We’re here,” Vernon interrupts from the front seat, breaking your intense gaze, “get ready.”

The flashing blinds you as soon as the car door opens, but you’re immune to the glares at this point. Chanhee, however, is not, so your only focus is being by his side until you walk inside the venue. You exit first, waiting until he steps out beside you before interlacing your fingers together and offering him a chaste smile, hoping it’ll calm his nerves.

He grips your hand tighter as you walk, and you both ignore the press shouting from around you. The screams seem extra prevalent today due to his presence, and you hope he isn’t feeling bombarded by the chaos around him. You focus on Chanhee, watching as he stares back at you to ground himself. You walk quickly in unison with him, counting your steps and smiling for the camera as you finally step inside the entryway.

“Are you okay?” you ask after you’re situated, having a few minutes of peace before you’re off to star on the red carpet. “I know that must’ve been a lot.”

“It’s fine. It’s over now. It was chaotic, but it helped to just focus on you.”

A twinge of heat flutters across your cheeks, but you pay no attention to it.

“I’m glad. Don’t worry, we don’t have any more red carpets in our schedule.”

He unlaces his fingers from yours, something you’d completely forgotten about, but you don’t have time to mull over the loss of his warmth before Vernon pushes you to the red carpet to get ready for the pictures. You take deep breaths, reveling in the mere seconds you get before the flashing starts again and you are simply an object for the camera. You pose, striking a big grin for the camera and remembering your media training. This is what you do best, being a celebrity, and suddenly you find comfort in this familiarity after all the turmoil you’ve been through the past couple of days. No Chanhee, no relationship, no headlines, just you and the camera like always.

However, you can’t stop your eyes from wandering when you get a break, watching Chanhee converse with Vernon. You let your daydreams drift, wondering how he would look like posing next to you for the camera, how he would laugh and answer questions about your relationship so giddily, or even how he’d stare into your soul like earlier before, bearing his heart for the taking.

You know that he won’t even meet your gaze after the four weeks are over, but you let yourself indulge in your imagination anyway. You’ve been touch-starved for so long, so it’s only natural that you have these thoughts about affection, right?

You walk back to Chanhee after you’re done, joining him and Vernon as you travel the venue. The place looks spectacular, with intricate chandeliers and a whole buffet of delicacies, and you make it a point in your mind to compliment the mastermind behind this all, Juyeon, when you see him.

Vernon leads you guys over to the food, piling the spring rolls on his plate until you glare at him to stop. Chanhee restrains laughter behind a mouth full of cupcakes, but even you have to agree with Vernon’s eagerness when you take a bite of the macadamia cookies. You’re on your fourth one when Juyeon saunters over to you, his goofy grin ever-so-present on his face.

“Y/N! Long time no see, right? I haven’t talked to you since my party months ago.”

“It’s been too long. I love the venue, by the way. You always outdo yourself.”

“Don’t talk to me about outdoing things. Look at you with your new boyfriend!”

You glance over at Chanhee, who’s busy trying to see how many spring rolls Vernon can fit in his mouth. You grimace, turning back to Juyeon. You know Vernon’s your manager, but sometimes it feels like you have to keep him on a leash instead of the other way around.

“Yeah it’s… a recent development, but I’m happy.”

“I’m surprised you got into a relationship in the first place. After you rejected me, I kinda thought you weren’t looking for love.”

Juyeon clutches his chest in fake agony, and you roll your eyes. Juyeon asked you out years ago when he was the director of your film, and he never fails to bring it up whenever he sees you. You still aren’t looking for love, of course, but your recent news is probably a shock to Juyeon and the many other people you’ve rejected over the years.

“I’m not incapable of love, Juyeon,” you sigh, looking back at Chanhee again, “I just needed to find the right person.”

The word love has never meant anything special to you, but when you look at Chanhee, you feel your heartstrings pull at your chest. Finally having a boyfriend, even if he’s fake, means you have the ability to love and be loved, and maybe you’ve been denying yourself happiness far too long for the wrong reasons.

As you wave Juyeon goodbye, sauntering over to Chanhee, you walk with a change in mindset. The situation you’re stuck in isn’t perfect, but you decide that it’s best to make the most out of it.

“Y/N, watch out!”

Suddenly, your whole world turns upside down, and you brace yourself as you fall backward, watching the twinkling of the chandeliers above you. You shut your eyes as a reflex, expecting the hardness of the wooden floor beneath you, but instead, you feel a strong hand supporting your back. You open your eyes to see Chanhee, but as his orbs bore into yours, all words tie on the tip of your tongue.

This close to him, you can see his faint eyeliner, the slight curve of his nose, and the barely visible mole on his top lips. It feels like the world is spinning still, but as Chanhee breathes, exhaling a soft puff of air, your gaze remains grounded only on him as he cradles you gently.

The sound of a camera startles you both, and Chanhee pulls you up, staring at Vernon. You smooth down your clothing, clearing your throat as you eye the culprit.

“What was that for?” you ask, throat slightly parched by what happened mere seconds ago.

“Whatever practice you guys did together before coming here definitely worked, because this picture definitely looks like you’re in love. I’m gonna leak it to a local magazine, so good job for today’s work.”

Your cheeks burn as he shows you the picture, and your gaze flits over to Chanhee. His expression is indiscernible, and you have the sudden urge to know exactly what’s running through his mind. Was he just as affected as you, or was this just a mere act of kindness?

The rational part of your brain hopes it’s the latter, but the heaviness of your heart might have different aspirations.

Your phone dings as you finish applying the last bits of your mascara, and you pad over to your couch, seeing Chanhee’s text message on the top of your screen.

Be there in five.

It’s been a week since Juyeon’s movie premiere, a week since your heart has practically gone haywire. You’re a celebrity, if anything, you’re the last person to be looking forward to a text, but you found yourself checking Chanhee’s chat every morning and being disappointed when nothing rolled in. Even when Vernon’s picture leaked and the internet blew up over your coupling, his message bar still remained dry and lifeless.

He didn’t have any reason to text you anyway, so you wonder why you always looked forward to one.

You were the one to reach out first, letting him know that you had a date scheduled for Saturday night according to Vernon’s schedule. A meeting once per week was mandatory, just to keep up the image, and today’s plan was a nice, fancy dinner at a restaurant.

Chanhee, like a true gentleman, offered to pick you up instantly after you’d sent him the message, and you let yourself feel elated for five seconds before you texted him the time and place. You don’t know why Chanhee reduces you to a middle school girl longing for her crush, but you suppose it’s just because you haven’t been on a proper date in so long.

You’re dressed in blue satin, a dress you’d had no real reason to wear until today, and you’ve tried your best to clean up without Kevin’s help. You send a quick picture to your stylist as you wait, asking for advice even though you know you always look good, but Kevin just sends you a string of heart emojis in return and tells you that you look perfect.

Three sharp knocks on the door indicate Chanhee’s presence, and you open the door. The words on your throat die down when you realize he’s wearing a similar blue satin to yours, and it only takes one flicker of your eyes to meet his for him to start laughing.

“Are you stalking me or something?” he teases, pulling out a bouquet of fresh flowers.

“What’s this for?” you ask, setting them on the vase inside.

“Vernon told me to. He said you always like getting flowers on a date.”

You haven’t been on a date in years, so you don’t know where Vernon got this information from, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless. The arrangement of peonies, lilies, and daffodils looks stunning on the countertop, and you post a quick picture to your Instagram story before heading out with Chanhee.

“Do you want the aux?” he asks when you’ve situated yourselves in his car.

The wind blows freely as he drives, the night sky twinkling through Chanhee’s open convertible. The rich red color of his Toyota Solara stands out against the deepness of the blackness around you two, but you can only focus on Chanhee’s side profile and the glittering earrings he’s wearing. Up until this point, you’ve only ever been in spaces you were familiar with. Seeing Chanhee in his own car is a completely different atmosphere for you, and you’re not sure how it makes you feel.

“I’m good. Play whatever you like,” you reply, truly interested to see what type of music he listens to.

Paris in the Rain drifts through the speakers, and you have to fight back a smile at the tune. Of course he would play this song on a night drive, judging by its mellow atmospheric feel, but you’re not mad about it.

“Why did you choose this restaurant?” he continues after the song settles, looking over at you when he pulls to a stop in front of a red light.

You have to recenter your thoughts to answer him, bringing your vision back from how ethereal he looks against the red tones of the stoplight.

“It’s been on my list for a while,” you admit honestly. “It’s also not super high scale, so someone will definitely notice us being there.”

Chanhee nods before quieting down as the red light fades into green. You’ve noticed that Chanhee tends to sit in silence when he’s with you, not interacting as much as he had with Vernon at the premiere. You wonder if he’s just naturally silent and hit it off with Vernon or maybe if he’s just hates you.

“Are you always this quiet?” you voice when he slows down due to traffic, not wanting him to feel alienated by the question.

“Ah, not really,” he says, scratching his head, “I just didn’t know if you were comfortable with me talking since we’re technically just coworkers.”

“Oh,” you voice, not expecting his admission.

You didn’t foresee him being so considerate of your feelings, enough to stop talking completely, and the thought warms your heart. Maybe he’s not such a bad person after all, you think, staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have admitted that,” he expresses. “I can go back to sitting in silence.”

“No!” you exclaim, and he looks over at you with slight alarm, “I mean, it’s fine. You talking is fine. You don’t need to restrict yourself from speaking just because we’re in a work setting. I don’t mind you talking.”

His shoulders relax as he steps on the gas, maneuvering through the gaps of the traffic that’s slowly clearing.

“That’s good,” he mutters, flicking on his blinker, “cause otherwise, this would’ve been a very awkward dinner date.”

You fight back a smile as he pulls up to the restaurant, and you don’t even have a chance to open your own door before he’s unlocking it for you. You thank him politely before walking inside, side by side with Chanhee. You follow the receptionist to your table once she gets your section cleared, and you’re offered complimentary chips and salsa as you wait for your food to arrive.

“You said this place was not ‘super high scale’?” Chanhee questions, looking around at the décor.

Okay, so maybe it is a little bit classy. The mediterranean themed restaurant has a cozy interior, and you’re currently sitting on wicker chairs by a huge glass window. The setting feels very exposed, as if you truly are sitting outside with the stars hanging over your heads. Subtle things about the place remind you that it’s elegant, such as the intricate menus and the tons of cutlery that sits next to you, but you hoped that it was something more comfortable for Chanhee to acclimate to.

“Why, is it too much?” you ask, picking up a chip.

“It’s not, but this is definitely fancy in my world.”

You smile, watching Chanhee be starstruck by his surroundings.

“Just because I’m famous now doesn’t mean I always was,” you start, “before I got my big break, my version of fancy was a dine-in restaurant.”

He laughs, relaxing a little.

“I didn’t know we were so similar. I just always assumed you were a nepo baby or something like that.”

“Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I’m privileged. I worked hard to get here, you know.”

Chanhee nods as your waiter brings out your food, and the two of you immediately dig in. The appealing smells make your stomach hungrier than usual, and it takes a good few minutes for you to settle your appetite before you start conversing with Chanhee.

Now that the awkwardness is gone and that you have a simple understanding of each other, talking with him is easy. Putting aside all the hatred that’s spewed up these past few months, you find out that Chanhee is actually an amiable person, someone you could’ve seen yourself being friends with if you two weren’t so different. He shares stories about growing up and his family in exchange for yours, and you have to clutch your stomach in laughter when he slips in a joke that matches your taste exactly.

Being with Chanhee is natural, so much that you wish you had met him under different circumstances. In addition to being a friendly person, he’s also a gentleman, from the way he slips his card under the menu without you noticing (you definitely scolded him for it later) and opens the car door whenever you get in and out. As he walks you up to your apartment, you thank him honestly for tonight, regretting that your time together is already over for the day.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers suddenly when you’re outside your door. “I’ve written so much shit about you without being an honest judge of your character.”

“It’s okay, Chanhee. This is what you do for a living, I get it.”

“No, you deserve an apology. You’re an amazing actor and an even better human being. You didn’t deserve a single word I wrote about you.”

You’re not tipsy this time around, but you pull him into a hug anyway. This time, you actually mean it though, and you try to disregard the loss of warmth when he pulls away after a few moments.

“Thank you for tonight,” you murmur, stepping into your apartment. “See you next week.”

He smiles, and suddenly, the room is filled with sunshine.

“No, thank you. See you soon.”

You woke up the next morning with a text from Chanhee. The texts have not stopped coming in ever since you responded, as if you’ve opened the floodgates of interaction. You wish he’d texted you sooner, because even though he bombards you with everything in the world from funny memes to just crying about his day, you love returning the same energy.

Where are you rn, a text flies in, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

on set. wbu?

Driving to somewhere special!

oooh spill??

I’ll let you know after I get there

You frown, not so pleased with his secrecy. You hate secrets, and so does Chanhee, so why is he indulging in one right now?

You don’t have time to mull over it as your director calls you back over, ready to continue with the shot. Your costar Younghoon stands before you, smiling as his assistant fixes up his hair before clearing his throat.

“Ready for this scene? It’s a lot,” he comments, reading over the script one more time.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, watching for your director’s call.

The line starts rolling a few seconds later, and you immediately straighten your posture, preparing yourself for the scene.

“Hey,” you whisper, “what was so wrong about what I did?”

He laughs bitterly, pointing to the papers on the desk beside him.

“What was so wrong? You ruined my entire career!”

The papers fly around you as he wipes them off the desk in one sweep, and tears well up in your eyes once you look at his angry gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you plead, clutching onto his arm, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen, I swear—”

“You didn’t know?” he asks, although it’s more of a statement, “you’re the editor for the goddamn newspaper! Of course you fucking knew this was going to happen!”

He rips his wrist from your fingers, inching away from you.

“It’s my job to write the news, darling. You have to understand—” you cry, dropping to the ground.

The papers shift around you, and you watch your tears drip onto the headlines.

“We’re done,” he utters, one final phrase before he rips off his ring, throwing it by your feet. “Never speak to me again.”

“And cut!” your director shouts, “good work guys. Take 30.”

Younghoon helps you up from the ground, and you whisper gratitude before brushing off your ankles. The wooden floor was uncomfortable to kneel on, but you’re grateful that it was only for a short period of time.

“Y/N!” you hear from the other end of the room, and you peek over Younghoon’s broad shoulders to see a familiar figure waving.

“Chanhee?” you gasp, walking over to him once he register his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprise?” he replies, giving you the bouqet of flowers he was holding. “I wanted to be a good boyfriend and surprise you on set.”

“Thank you,” you reply, grabbing the flowers from his hands before leaning in closer, “did Vernon put you up to this?”

“Um…” he starts, scratching the back of his head, “yeah, definitely. It’s the middle of the week, so why else would I be here?”

You roll your eyes, leaning back before you reach for his arm, squeezing it tightly.

“Thank you, regardless. No one’s ever visited me on set before like this. Even Vernon.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding surprised, “I thought you would have a lot of people around you like that.”

“I have acquaintances, but they’re all busy too. The most someone’s ever done for me is send me a food truck, and that was from my own mother.”

“Well, I’ll be here from now on, then.”

You feel a pang in your chest, and Chanhee must notice the shift in the atmosphere too because he clears his throat. You both know that this arrangement is already halfway over, so why do Chanhee’s words feel so comfortable, as if you both were in a regular relationship from the very beginning?

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Y/N? Is this the boyfriend?” Younghoon interrupts, walking up from behind with an outstretched arm. “Hey, I’m Younghoon, the costar. Nice to meet you, man.”

Chanhee smiles, plastering a smile to cover his previous frown before taking Younghoon’s hand in his, shaking it firmly.

“Nice to meet you too. Y/N’s been telling me about you, so it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Younghoon laughs, removing his hand from Chanhee’s grip.

“Yeah, it’s surreal working on this movie. It’s kinda funny how Chanhee’s a journalist because Y/N plays one in this movie too.”

Chanhee turns to you, surprised by this new piece of information. You’ve been pretty lowkey about the role, not wanting to tell anyone until the movie wrapped up filming, but Younghoon seems to trust Chanhee with the information because he’s your boyfriend.

“Really? I didn’t know.”

You nod in confirmation, grinning slightly.

“Yeah, we just finished up a heavy argument scene before you arrived. Wanna see the set?”

You and Younghoon parade Chanhee around, introducing him to other actors and cast on the set working diligently. Chanhee is in awe, starstruck by the unfamiliar environment and you can’t really blame him. The movie industry in and of itself is a dream, and witnessing it for the first time is probably exhilarating for him.

After your break wraps up, you lead Chanhee out, standing by the front of the garage. He still has stars in his eyes, and you have to nudge his shoulder twice before he pays attention to you.

“Sorry, I just… I wanted to be a director once, so seeing this all is kind of a dream come true.”

Your eyes widen. Whatever you were expecting to come out of his mouth was not even close to what he just said, and you’re still processing his words when you voice your confusion.

“Yeah, that’s how I learned writing and photography. I used to write screenplays and direct them, but I never made it big like I wanted to. Luckily, Sangyeon took me in when I was struggling, and that’s the only reason I have a job today.”

Suddenly, you know nothing about Chanhee. If events had played out a little differently, Chanhee could be standing right in front of you, not as a fake boyfriend but as a director. You wouldn’t be from two separate worlds anymore, and the thought is killing you.

“Do you still direct?” you ask uncertainly, unsure of what to even say after his confession.

“Nah, not anymore. I help my friends out with short films sometimes, but that’s about it.”

“If you ever want to get back into directing, I can help you out.”

Chanhee looks like his breath has been stolen away, staring at you dumbly.

“I don’t know if I can give you a position directly, but I can definitely link you up with fellow directors of mine and see if there are any film festivals looking for submissions.”

“Thank you,” he mutters hoarsely, “I don’t have an answer for you right now, but what you just said means the world to me.”

Chanhee does the unexpected, wrapping you in a hug this time around. It’s meaningful and tender, and he burrows himself into you as he clutches your shoulders tightly, never wanting to let go. The same shoulders that he once tried to pry your hands off are now encircling you, and you smile against his cheek.

“It’s no problem,” you voice honestly, pulling back to look at him. “I’m always here for you, just remember that.”

You told him the last date would be a little different, but seriously, Chanhee was not expecting a van.

You wave from the front seat, putting aside your phone as he scrambles into the front seat. Chanhee quirks an eyebrow at you, urging you to spill, and you take in a deep breath as you struggle to get the words out.

“So… um, you know how celebrity couples usually have pictures of them making out in their cars, right?”

Chanhee stares at you incredulously, and you grimace, biting your lip.

“I know it sounds bad, but it was Vernon’s idea, I promise! We just need to kiss a couple of times for the pictures, that’s it. It can’t be too bad, right?”

“Y/N,” Chanhee sighs, massaging his temples, “are you crazy? We haven’t even kissed once before this.”

“Well, now is a good time to start, right?” you ask sheepishly, “Look, Vernon paid some guys to photograph us, so they’ll be here any time now. Let’s just get this over with.”

Before he can even blink, you clamber over into his lap, resting your legs on either side of his and holding onto his shoulders. Chanhee gulps, too loudly for the silence that settles between you two, and he’s close enough to you that he can feel your heartbeat thumping wildly.

Good to know that you’re just as affected as him too.

You guide his arms around your waist, securing them tightly before looking back up at Chanhee. The last time he’s ever seen you this close is from when he saved you from falling, and somewhere in the depths of his heart, he admits to himself how much he actually missed it. The fluttering of your lashes, the indents of your mouth, and the sliver of your jawline are all something he wants to commit to memory, to burn into his mind before he loses you.

Chanhee would write a whole article just about your lips if he had to.

“Ready?” you ask, so close that he can feel your breath on his.

He nods, and before he can even lick his lips, you lean in, meeting him halfway with yours.

Chanhee feels like he’s in oblivion, completely succumbing to the darkness that you’ve slowly been feeding him with. You’re like poison, and as he slots his lips against yours, he can’t get enough. You’re killing him with the way you pull him in closer, imperceptibly close as if you two aren’t practically molded together already, and as Chanhee uses one of his arms to tilt your neck, you reciprocate with just as much fervor.

You pull back, catching your breath and your chest heaving, but it takes Chanhee only one glance at your swollen lips before pulling you back in again. He’s addicted to the way your tongue swipes across his entrance, the way you shiver as he gently tugs your bottom lip between your lips, and the way you clutch onto his hair as the two of you exchange life through your kisses.

“Just a couple, baby?” he whispers, pecking down the side of your face, “I can give you a lot more than that.”

He tugs your sleeve down as you whine, tilting your head to give him better access to the area. He nips and sucks at your collarbone, biting hard enough to bruise in spots that you’ll probably scold him for later. He wants them to be deep enough, red enough that you won’t even be able to cover them so the whole world will know you’re his, and he knows it’s well worth it with the way you groan as he keeps going.

“I wish could stay like this forever,” you gasp, preening away when he nips behind your earlobe. “I never want to let you go. My boyfriend. Mine. Forever.”

He hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to your neck before he stops. You whimper, angry at him for pausing his ministrations, but as he processes your words, the hazy fog he was in moments prior fades away, and all that is left is the consequences of his actions.

“What’s wrong?” you ask when you realize he’s stopped completely.

Chanhee is shaking from underneath you, glassy-eyed, and his fingers tremble as he removes them from your body.

“Boyfriend,” he dumbly repeats, and you nod before realizing the mistake you made.

“Chanhee, I—”

“Get off me. Please.”

You stare at him incredulously, and when he doesn’t make any move to take back his words, you climb off him and into the seat next to you.

“This is all fake. Why do I keep forgetting that?”

He laughs bitterly, watching as your face morphs into a frown. How could he be so careless, to lose himself in you when this is all clearly just an act?

“Chanhee, I know this was planned, but the way I kissed you was definitely not fake.”

You sound hurt, and if he was in a better headspace, he would be calmer with his words, but the weight of what just happened is sinking down on him hard. Suddenly, he needs to leave, to never see you again and to not spend any more time in this stupid, suffocating van. He opens the door, climbing out before shutting it behind him firmly, breathing in heavily as he staggers away from the vehicle.

“Chanhee,” you cry, running up behind him and grabbing onto his wrist, “you don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand!”

“I like you,” you whisper, and suddenly, his whole world shatters.

“Of course you like me,” he laughs, running a hand over his face. “Do you not realize that you have an insane amount of privilege to be saying that? I can’t even like you in return because my career hinges on hating you! Don’t you get it, Y/N?”

You’re full on sobbing now, observing as he wrenches your hand away from his. Your fingers fall limply to your side and all you can do is watch as he walks away, shaking his head.

“Don’t contact me. I never want to see you again. Fuck you, for real, for playing with my feelings.”

You can only stare as the love of your life walks away, leaving your universe in shambles.

Unfortunately, just because you encountered the worst breakup of your life does not mean the world stops moving.

You’re at another after party, one that you’d been looking forward to for months because it would finally mean you’d get to catch up with some of your old costars. However, after the chaos that had befallen you earlier this week, going to some stupid nightclub was the last thing on your mind.

Really, you’re only here because Vernon is sick and tired of you wallowing in your misery. He thinks that you’ll be getting a change of scenery by being here, but the only thing you’ve been getting is shots filled with the strongest alcohol the bar can offer. Your one goal is to successfully forget about the black-haired man that ruined your life, and your plan is effective until the bartender stops you from getting another round and tells you to get some fresh air.

You grumble as you stumble out of the bar, finding a home on the gray sidewalk in front of it. Your sequined outfit digs into your skin as you sit down, but in your drunken stupor, you can’t find it within yourself to care. You’re lucky enough that this is a nicer venue, because there’s no one around to bother you to find another spot. It’s just you and your thoughts, and you can’t tell if that’s more dangerous or not.

Your first order of business is to pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent contacts. You have half a mind to call Vernon, to curse him out from condemning you to the hell that is this place, but instead your finger hovers over a familiar contact.

You are so going to hate yourself when you wake up.

The line rings, once, twice, thrice, and just as you’re about to cut the call, a voice answers from the other side.

“Y/N, it’s three in the morning. I thought I told you not to contact me,” Chanhee whispers groggily.

“Well too bad! You’re the one that said all that shit to me and left, so how unfair is it that I don’t get my turn?”

The line goes silent before Chanhee scoffs, and you can hear the bedsheets rustle around him as he gets up.

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, giggling from how similar this is to when you first met him.

“Where are you right now?”

“Outside a nightclub,” you sing, holding your phone out behind you so he can hear the EDM music from inside a little better.

“Send me your location.”

“Nope! I don’t owe you anything, you piece of shit!”

“Y/N, wait—”

You cut the call, laughing as Chanhee’s name disappears on your screen. He calls again, neverendingly, but you never once pick up, feeling glee from how he’s the one chasing after you now.

You play Candy Crush on your phone until a car screeches beside you, and you scoff as you recognize the familiar red Toyota Solara pulls up beside you. You’ve sobered up by now, but you still hate him just as much.

“Hell no,” you whisper, getting up as Chanhee steps out. You try to run, but the highness of your shoes make it hard for you to run properly, and you stumble as attempt to escape.

“Y/N, look, I’m just going to drop you off at home, okay?”

You stop in your tracks, turning around to see Chanhee behind you with his hands stuffed in his hoodie. You note the eyebags on his face and his chapped lips before speaking to him with a softer tone, grateful that even if he despised you, he didn’t make an attempt to grab onto your wrist and coerce you into something you didn’t want.

“How do I know you won’t kidnap me?” you ask, folding your arms over one another.

“I asked Vernon for your location. If you go missing, he’ll know it was my fault.”

You grumble, staring at him angrily before walking towards his car. He opens the door for you, but you stick your tongue out at him and find a spot in the backseat instead.

The ride is silent, but you feel him watching you through the rearview mirror as he drives. Usually, you don’t mind his silence, but now the stillness is bleak and uncomfortable, just like his presence near you.

“Why did you call me?” he asks, and it takes you a moment to register it because of how intensely you’d been ignoring him.

“I wanted to cuss you out.”

“Okay, so cuss me out then.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“You know what your problem is, Chanhee? You’re self-centered. You think everything is about yourself, even down to our breakup. Who are you to even say things about my privilege when you know damn well how hard I worked to get here? Do you think I’m unaware how my feelings will affect your career? Hell, Chanhee, I literally told you I could help you find another job! I did so much for you to protect you, to support you, all for you to throw it away because you’re scared of the stupid future.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Let me finish. I love you for who you are. Even if we were destined to be opposites, I still found a way to fall in love with you. I was able to love you despite all that you have written about me in the past, so why can’t you love me for the person I am today?”

He pulls up to the front of your apartment, and you clamber out, not wanting to see his face anymore. The rain falls heavily as you step into the lobby, and Chanhee follows suit, shrugging the droplets off his jacket.

“Let me follow you up,” he asks.

You shake your head, but he trails you into the elevator anyway, watching as you press the button for your floor. He opens his mouth to speak, but you’re not in the mood, putting up a palm in front of him.

“Save it. I said what I needed to say. I might be drunk but my words are true. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say in return.”

Despite your words, you let him into your apartment anyway, throwing a towel at him so he can dry off. He pats his hair dry, wiping his glasses against the fabric, and suddenly you’re reminded of how devilishly handsome he is. You shake your thoughts off, chalking it down to good taste in men before wiping down your neck.

The thunder booms outside, startling you as your towel falls to the ground. When you pick it up, Chanhee stares at you, an indiscernible expression on his face.

“Thanks for the towel. I better get going.”

He spins on his heel to leave as the storm crackles, and against your better judgement, you call out for him to stop.

“It’s storming outside. You can’t drive in this weather.”

“What are you suggesting?” he asks, turning back around to meet your gaze.

“You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Chanhee laughs, as if your idea is so atrocious he can’t even fathom it.

“You’re funny. I’ll just drive home, don’t worry.”

“Chanhee, I’m being serious. I don’t want you to die, for god’s sake.”

Maybe he registered the concern in your voice because he exhales, contemplating in his head if this is a good idea or not. The loud thunderclap outside has him reconsidering, and soon enough, he shakes his head in agreement.

“Alright, but you have to sleep on the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Chanhee, I’m not fucking arguing with you. You know what? We can both take the bed if it makes you happy. A pillow between us should work.”

Before Chanhee can even respond, you’re walking into the bedroom, flicking on the light. You grab your pajamas from the closet and change in your bathroom, slipping into the sheets quickly once you’re done. Chanhee follows suit, taking the right side of the bed and placing a pillow between you two for added measure.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a few moments of silence. “I’ll be gone in the morning before you know it.”

“No need,” you grumble, shoving your face into the pillows, “just don’t roll over to my side, okay?”

He hums in agreement, and he watches as your eyes flutter shut.

“Good night, Y/N.”

You’re far too asleep to even respond.

You wake up to the sound of your head pounding in your ears. You grumble, shifting around before you open your eyes, expecting to see empty sheets, but instead you see a man with a very familiar face.

You as the events of last night rush back to you, and you hold yourself back from groaning as you recollect your thoughts. You should’ve just let him leave when he wanted to, but you didn’t, and now you have to deal with his beautiful bare face and his deep morning voice as if you haven’t fallen enough for him already.

You don’t register his eyes fluttering awake until he pokes your side. You shake, startled by his actions, and he tries to hold back a smile.

“Good morning. Sorry I overslept.”

“It’s okay. I won’t be nice enough to let you stay for breakfast though.”

“Wait,” he whispers, clutching onto your arm as you attempt to get out of the bed, “can I say something?”

You nod, and his arms falls back on the bed as he sits up, clearing his throat.

“You were right. I was selfish, and the words I said that day were extremely uncalled for. They were useless too, because if I had just expressed my feelings to you, we wouldn’t have needed to have this conversation now.”

You cock your head, confused at what he’s trying to imply. He takes in a deep breath, as if he’s preparing himself to say something.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much that it hurts to breathe when I think of you. I love you so much that I’m willing to quit my career just to be by your side. I was scared then of ending up on the streets like I did in the past, but I was stupid enough to not trust your words when you said you would help me. I didn’t even like that job anyway, so I was an idiot for trying to fight for something I would eventually end up leaving myself.”

“Chanhee, you’re not—”

“No, I am stupid. And selfish. And self-centered. But I am also just Choi Chanhee, the Choi Chanhee who is irrevocably and utterly in love with you, and even though I can imagine a future where I won’t be working for Sangyeon, I cannot imagine a future without you by my side. I know you deserve better, but I’m begging you to just give me one chance to rectify my mistakes. We can take it slow and not rush things like we did in our four weeks. We can go on silly restaurant dates and I’ll practice getting used to the lights at red carpets. I’ll visit you on set every day with flowers and I’ll rent out five billion vans for us to make out in. I’ll do all this and even more because you deserve it, and because I love you. Will you please let me have one chance to make this fake relationship into a real one?”

You’re kissing him before he can even respond, letting him press you against the bed. He kisses you like he’s been starved, inhaling you and memorizing every inch of your presence as if you’ll let go of him again. Like before, you’re not restricted by the millions of voices against you and Chanhee, and as he lets himself go, you follow suit, dragging him down under until you’re writhing against him, begging for more.

“I love you,” he whispers when he kisses down your collarbone, “I love you,” he whispers when your clothes join the ground, “I love you,” he whispers when you shake against his fingers and mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time, cradling you gently as he becomes one with you. “I’ll never let you go. Never again.”

As you lay against him, bare skin to bare skin, you trace the tips of his hair as you smile. You don’t know what the future holds for you two, but there’s one thing you’re certain of as you press another kiss to his mouth.

"I love you. Even if the world caves in, it’ll be you that I lie with. Endlessly, until my last dying breath.”

This time around, you take things slow, not restricted anymore any more by four weeks, four months, not even four years. You have the entirety of your lifetime to spend with him, and you intend on using every single bit of it.

First, however, you let him make it up to you. Just because you bared your soul to him, figuratively and literally, after his apology doesn't mean you've completely forgiven him.

Chanhee doesn't disappoint though, reminding you every single day why he deserved the second chance you gave him. Once upon a time, he called you privileged, and that's exactly what you are now for having such a sweet boyfriend. One that doesn't leave the vase on your countertop empty by gifting you fresh flowers, one that always opens the door for you when he takes you on apology dates, one that sits with you in silence when you want to and one that chatters just as much as you do when you can't shut your mouth.

He visits you on set when he can despite his busy schedule as an assistant director. Surprisingly, you played no part in this, just the source of his determination when he finally decided to give the movie industry a chance again and bagged a job with none other than your close friend Juyeon. He surprises you for late-night drives and lets you have the aux even without you asking for it. He accompanies you to movie premieres despite hating the cameras and if you ever get asked questions that you don't particularly like, he'll glare at the reporters until they shoo away.

And god, the kisses. If the world counted kisses as an apology, Chanhee would be the CEO. Every slot of his lips against yours is like an unwritten confession from him to you, and every purse of his lips is a ballad from the depths of his heart. He kisses you for trivial things, like when you finally get that one specific line right as you're practicing for a script or when he's pecking you against the makeup trailer walls as he wishes you a successful day at work. He kisses you in the earliest of mornings, murmuring sweetness with his tongue against your hot skin, and he kisses you in the depths of the night, trailing his fingers down as you gasp against his mouth and exchange breaths through each swipe of his tongue.

Even after you do end up accepting his apology, he doesn't stop showering you with the affection you deserve. On nights you're feeling particularly insecure, Chanhee beats himself up and vows to never make you feel those emotions again, waking up the next morning to prove exactly why you're worth it. He takes care of you gently, the gentlest lover you've ever seen. He's the personification of a comfortable morning, the desire to stay in bed despite all the things you have going on. You never want to leave, forgetting all reason and staying in his embrace forever.

You're by his side when his first cinema blows up, when his first screenplay wins an award, when he gets his first nomination for directing, and today when he's on stage with an Academy Award in his hand and a smile you'll remember for ages.

You watch the twinkling in his eyes when he thanks his cast and crew, holding onto his assistant director tightly as he expresses his gratitude. What takes your breath away, however, is when he turns to you in the audience and whispers a confession that you'll never forget in your lifetime.

"And lastly, thank you, you know who you are, for being the best I could ever imagine. I will never regret the moment by the pond where you hugged me, the one that changed the trajectory of our lives forever. If anything, you deserve this award more than me. I love you, my Y/N."

You smile as the audience erupts in cheers, but as his assistant director hugs him on stage, his eyes only bore into yours.

"I love you too," you mouth back, watching as he grins when he recognizes your words.

"Forever and always."

[from-izzy]

the warmest winter | tbz choi chanhee | new

"She has a date with me tomorrow."

​PAIRING » tbz choi chanhee (new) x fem!reader​ TROPE/AU » ​childhood friends to lovers, fake dating au, non-idol au!, high school au! GENRE​ » fluffy fluff with a touch of angst, reader is a skater! (has her hair up in a bun), chanhee is very jelly of juyeon (hehe), but also chanhee is just jealous in general (...hehe), fake dating (i tried my best ahhhh), juyeon makes an appearance as jealous chanhee's rival WORD COUNT » 5805 ESTIMATED READING TIME » ~21 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » very inaccurate depiction of skating in general (writing this made me miss skating...), very fast proofreading (twice)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

hi @astrae4 !! yes, i'm your secret santa!! 🤭 sorry (not really hehe) for tricking you into thinking otherwise 🫢 it was very cute and funny to hear you say "it's definitely not you" when we were on call 🤣 had my camera been on, i wouldn't have gotten away with it 😫 just to let you know that @heemingyu was also playing along too (thanks for that and reading this, honey bee!) 😁 don't be too mad, dek! 😭 i'm innocent—

There are many good things about having a best friend who has known you since you were in diapers. 

For you, the funniest reason would be how you would dead stare him across the room, with the straightest and plainest face, him directing one back at you. It sends the others into a fit of confusion, worries and frustration as none could ever figure out what’s in the duo’s minds. The chaotic reason would be that you would both wreak havoc together. Like that one time during the last day of primary school when you both decide to fill up thirty water balloons to their full capacity and throw them to any of the teachers in the outdoor field, fearless of the possibility of getting in trouble as graduation was around three hours after. The embarrassing reason would be that Chanhee would come to cheer you on your sport, luxuriously with his branded clothes from all his hard work, holding his big handmade slogan to support you as you glide across the ice to your routine. He would always get an earful from you after but he got his karma when you came in, dressed in highlighter yellow, sitting on the front row seat to his singing performance. 

It’s the day that everyone has realised that the two of you are menaces to society. 

The comforting reason, and is one of the biggest reasons why you two are still stuck to the hip after a decade, would be that when your lips are pouted, eyes glistening with tears, hugging your knees to your chest and whimpering your worries in the night, Chanhee would sit beside you wordlessly. Patiently waiting for you to cry your feelings out, patting your back rhythmically as he sometimes let time pass by scrolling through his phone, occasionally showing the funny reel on his screen to get you to join in his laughs. For him, the moment of calmness when you both would hit the breaks to your chaotic lives would be the best ones too with Friday nights becoming obligatory ‘brake time to get a break from society’ which can sometimes be too much.

But this Friday is a bit different. 

Your final skating competition before you graduate high school is coming up in less than a month and despite the nervous butterflies growing in your stomach, you’re still very much excited to participate. You’re somewhat confident that you’ll do well, especially with all the experience that you have and the achievements and trophies that show off your hard work. But all of that didn’t stop you from agreeing to the voice in your head that tells you to put your blades on and just bask in the cold. Feeling nervous is a given but you have to believe in yourself that you can win this scholarship to your dream university. 

The blades of your skates glide smoothly across the new ice sheet that has recently resurfaced once more. This is the second time that you had to step out of the rink and it shows the duration that you’ve spent without thinking much. Even when the doors to the public were closed, through your coach and her connections to the people who work at the rink, you were able to stay for even longer. Staying on the ice also meant that you were separated from your phone, leaving everyone on delivered for another two hours. 

But Chanhee knows your habits, driving to the ice rink and pushing the still-unlocked front door to see you skating leisurely without a care in the world. He smiles warmly behind his blue scarf, delighted at the little smile and satisfying self-cheer when you land correctly, scratching the ice with your achievements once again. Silently, he sits down on one of the benches, going on his phone but still occasionally looking at your dancing figure once in a while.

You don’t know how you missed a whole hour of another person’s presence—or maybe it’s because you’re so used to and comfortable with him that you don’t notice him—but you literally almost trip from the ice and the edge of the ice rink when you spot your best friend with his Hello Kitty beanie that you gifted him this year for his birthday.

“Slow down.” He tries to hold his laughter when you let out a puff of air, annoyed at your clumsiness. “You should come eat. I’m sure you forgot about that.”

The mention of food and the familiar takeout bag from your favourite place brightens your face, the corners of your lips lifting immensely and you kick off your shoes, tiptoeing in the cold and wet puddles to quickly fill up your stomach after a successful practice session. 

“Knew I could count on you.” 

“Duh.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “I feel so bad for your stockings, I swear.” Commenting on your slightly damp black fabric. 

The only response he got was the way you rub the watered part onto his pants, him shrieking and sliding himself away from you on the bench, only for you to of course follow him. In the end, when he reaches the end of the aluminium seat, he only groans and tells you off, giving an empty warning that he’ll never pick you up and buy you food ever again. When you put your tongue out, making a funny face to him, his cheeks blush hues of red and pink in the dimly lit seating area—you didn’t see it though as you were too focused on the flavours bursting in your mouth. 

When you fully focus back on your food once again, leaving him in his little world, Chanhee buries his lower face further into his scarf, away from your field of vision. He leans a little bit back to make sure he can just admire you without being too obvious. His heart flutters when his mind replays back to your mischievous and cute face, and the way you didn’t mind being so close to his face—though he was freaking out about it all. 

But how could he ever tell you? Because he can’t even explain to you when he started to fall for you. Was it that time when you ran to him at primary school, winging about how you needed a friend to get ice cream? Or that time when you stayed by his side and continued to support him when he hit the hard times while he was preparing for his first performance in high school? What about that time when you would just lay on his shoulder and listen to his worries, completely understanding his thoughts, never judging him through words or facial expressions?

He can’t even make sense of it to himself. Let alone with you.

“I’m annoyed.” Your voice trails off in the big area but it reaches his ears easily.

Judging from the way your feet kick the air and the accommodating tone of your voice with your words, Chanhee’s lips pull into a straight line. “Another one?” followed by a deep chuckle and a frustrated sigh from you. 

“It’s not that funny, okay? You know I’m bad at rejecting…”

He ponders the thought behind your words, nodding as his memories play the series or tears after politely and in some cases, not as kindhearted, rejecting the ones who made an advance for you. When asked why those tears were showing, you commented how “it didn't feel right” and alternatives to “he didn't feel at home. He likes me because of my appearance. He's never even talked to me!” 

Chanhee wishes that it would never be like that for him. But it's okay, for he would never tell you his feelings for you anyway.

The realization weighed deeply in his heart, resonating hurt throughout his entire body. He glances over at you, hopefully discreetly, with how much love he could give you at any time. Impulsively, acting with a tinge of jealousy and possessiveness, the suggestion curled out from his tongue without another thought.

“Date me instead.”

Your feet stop kicking the air and both of your bodies are now stiff with widened eyes, as if the cold finally got to you guys.

“What?”

It sends Chanhee into a momentary faze and the blush on his cheeks spreads through not only his face but his entire body.

“Fake!” 

“HUH?”

“Like, fake dating!”

Then the implications behind his words finally sink into you. You didn’t realise this before but the idea does seem great for someone like you who has been trying to get people off your case. It’s tiring, especially when you can’t find a proper connection with either of them—none of them was better than your connection with Chanhee.

“For once in your life,” Your hand gives him a firm pat on his shivering shoulders, “you have come up with a great idea.”

Playing off the slight hurt in his heart, knowing that from your words that you didn’t see him anymore than just friends, Chanhee bravely flashes you a smile. “Do you want to or not?”

“...what’s the catch?” The growing grin on his face tells you everything. “I know you, Choi Chanhee. There’s no way something as taxing and effortful as dealing with me, has no catch to this agreement. Tell me!”

“The catch is,” he takes off his scarf, exposing the lower half of his face to you. Carefully, he wraps the dark blue material around yours, no longer seeing the exhaling white air, “that you get to listen to whatever I say.”

Adding a little touch to this, he bops the tip of your nose earning a deep grunt and shove from you but your hands still held on to the top edge of his scarf, enjoying the familiar scent and warmth that came from it. 

“Does that soothe your chaotic mind?”

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, feeling your neck loosen from all the tension from the previous regular meetups that you both will have. Especially with you being so busy the entire time, it was nearly impossible to meet up with Chanhee unless he was the one going all the way for you. 

“Nothing will change.” Chanhee shrugs. “We’re just…us. Everyone is already thinking that we’re dating anyway so the only thing that'll change is more hand-holding and all that.”

“No kissing!”

“W-Wha--Of course not!” This time, you were shoved back. “Who wants to kiss you anyway? You literally drool in your sleep!”

“Hey!” With each growing rebuttal, so did the echo that bounced within the walls, “Don’t say that! You know how lonely, I am! That’s so mean!”

The laughing boy didn’t do much to ease you, just sticking a tongue out at you. He did, however, reach out to hold your icy hand. It made him frown, the little mountain growing on his lips. Suddenly, the gap between your body closes with him wrapping a secure hold of your waist. Confused by the sudden proximity, you let out a string of stutters as you look up to see him already staring at you.

“W-What are you…doing…?”

“We’re dating now.” He shrugs nonchalantly, “You have to get used to this.”

“No one is here, Chanhee.” 

He has never been one to initiate skinship. It has always been you cuddling up to his side like a koala, clinging and dragging him to every single place that you wanted to go.

“J-Just…leave me alone and let me hug you.” And he did. Your upper body twists to completely face him and your chin goes over the scarf to rest on his padded jacket. The height difference is why he had to bend to your figure, basically slumping over you but neither of you minded. With a clear of his throat without another word or action, he lets you go, stands up and asks for your hand. “It’s too cold. Let’s go, I’ll drop you home.”

“Wait Chanhee…” 

You drag the last syllable and the hand that reaches out for you slowly lowers. Chanhee sighs, knowing that it can't be good judging from the tone and the way your lips pull sideways.

“I need to rant about my upcoming duet routine.”

“Oh.”

He remembers the first time when you did perform once with someone else. Of course in group work, your effort and contributions matter just as much as theirs would matter to you. But your first (and what you hoped to be your last) partner ruined all potentially happy thoughts about performing with someone else. It sucked that even though you both did win a place at the podium, the stress and effort of basically choreographing at least ninety percent of the routine was not worth the bronze medal on the podium.

For a short while, it killed you to be on the ice and you refused to even step back there without a pressing reason. You're thankful that your coach has always been an understanding one because if she wasn't, your career in figure skating would be shredded at this point. Chanhee did help too, reminding you of the joy and laughter, even making himself borrow some skates from his friend. It led to bruises and him face-planting into the pile of snow but at least he got to see the way your eyebags disappeared over time.

That's more than worth it for him.

“You'll be alright.” He reassured first, kneeling to get into eye level with you even though yours is downcasted. He knows that your mind would go back to the past. “You got a shit partner but you'll be fine. I promise you that you'll do better this time.”

“I hope…”

“Who is it with this time?”

Despite breathing the cool air whenever you could, you could never get enough of it. 

“Lee Juyeon.”

Something inside him stops. Time didn't though because from his peripherals, he noticed how you stood and skipped your way down to the ground floor, patting your outfit dry as if some sort of ice or dust had dirtied it. He hears your announcement, shouting that you will get your things ready from the back room and miraculously, he lets out a croaked answer in return.

Lee Juyeon. 

Everyone in school loved him, Chanhee included. Most wanted to date him, others wanted to be him while the remaining loathed the way he was perfect in every way. In short, Lee Juyeon is the total opposite of Choi Chanhee. 

He prefers to spend his days quietly in the library alone while Juyeon prefers to attend parties. While Chanhee would be in his bed sleeping in the morning, Juyeon would be taking his daily morning run before rushing back home to shower and get ready for the school day. When Juyeon would be in his weekly student council meetings, Chanhee would eat ice cream at that nearby restaurant, basking in the sweetness after a stressful day.

This unfamiliar feeling sends Chanhee into a slight brain freeze when he imagines you both not only close physically but the fact that you will be near the perfect boy for the majority of your time—and the fact that he won't be able to spend time with you because you'll be busy with other priorities—makes the green feeling inside his chest grow with the devil snickering inside his head. He was still so deep in thought that he didn't even notice you wave your hands infront of his face despite having his eyes seemingly on your face.

“It's almost midnight.” You say, opting to drag him out of the building with a hold of his clothed wrist. “Daydream later, loser.”

Oh, you're so right about that. And he's in deep trouble about it all. 

What he didn’t truly prepare for, however, is the number of times that you would leave him on delivered, responding to his messages from the beginning of the day to the end in one go, buzzing his phone repeatedly when he’s doing his final skin routine before sleep takes over him. He’s still understanding, knowing how the competition is important for you. At least she still answers me back right? He reassures himself while throwing the face mask away, the cooling air on his face suddenly turns his mind back to the short ‘date’ from the other day. 

He still remembers the pink checkered shorts that you paired with a simple button white long sleeve. Your hair is freed in the wind, taking the scent of your shampoo—to him. The struggles of keeping his palm dry when it’s around yours, and the bigger struggle to keep his skin neutral void of any redness whenever he catches a glance of your smile.

“Once more!” You plead, handing your phone back to him after switching back to the camera app. 

Despite the roll of his eyes, he’s thankful that the device hid his face from yours, even if it’s only a while. He focuses on the screen and your figure, arguably more than the technology. He directs your poses: hands collecting your hair into a bun, looking down at your feet while the other shot is one of you puckering your lips, looking to the side with a quick peace sign.

Both became his lock and home screen using the excuse of making the relationship more believable—we know more than that though.

It fuels his hate for himself and Juyeon when he texts you that he finished the final part of the routine, asking if you’re free to test it out with him.

After that, school was the only place where you would exchange smiles, stick out tongues, share food, hugs and even kisses on each other’s cheeks, Chanhee only found himself in deep trouble. The public display of affection did make other boys leave you alone, gulping and scurrying away in masses when he would throw them a side glare, his hand on your waist tightening his hold each time. 

It would drag your attention to him, whenever he does that. Such a new feeling, yet fluttering and intimate. You would clutch the loose fabric of his shirt, hand once relaxed on his chest. Brown eyes would run over the creases of disgust and the lines of fury across his usual soft, kind face. Whenever you would ask him for a peek inside his mind, his eyes would quickly turn to the ones that he would usually show whenever he would laugh and nag you to put your upper body back inside his car in the late-night drives. Or when you would do your night routines together every single time, without fail—for your information, it’s been two weeks since then.

Sure it’s all for show, but two weeks ago when he proposed the idea, it seemed that nothing had changed for him and even though he’s glad that no one is crazily chasing after you anymore, it hurt that he feels like he’s been abandoned by you. Heck, he hasn’t even taken you out for a ‘date’ yet. Friendly date, ‘fake’ date. The label that you would put on it didn’t matter much for him as long he took some of your time.

So now, with the owl hooting outside his window, dressed and ready to sleep with his Hello Kitty pyjamas, something is telling him to pick up his keys from the handmade bowl that you both messily painted as kids, go for some drive-through to pick up your favourite food and drive to the ice rink.

The sight that greeted him when he did reach his destination caused the paper cup in his hand to spill all over the rubber of the ice rink. The low-pitched clatter stops the laughs that erupt from you and the male who had his arms wrapped around your waist, his defined chest pressing comfortably against your exposed back due to your outfit, is the one who straightens his back first, noticing the painful gaze from outside the rink.

But again, Juyeon is everything Chanhee isn’t. 

The way that Juyeon let out that signature ‘oh’ of his with the sickening way that he hollers a greeting to the envious boy, not even bothering to throw a discouraging comment that would hurt his pride and would then rightfully give a reason to hate him that has a glad upturned smile on his face, Chanhee would’ve run straight back to the door that he opened excitedly before. Just like your skating partner, you also let out an ‘oh!’ at his presence and he couldn’t help but think that now, Juyeon isn’t taking away his time with you anymore but also the way you speak. 

Leisurely gliding your way towards the railing of the enclosed rink, the anterior side of your forearm rests, your feet still making little circles on the part of the rink that wouldn’t usually be given that much attention to professional skaters like you.

“Having fun?” It came out more venomous and spiteful than he thought. Even his eyes widened slightly in fear, seeing a similar look in your eyes. But he maintains eye contact with you, the paper of the takeaway scrunching rapidly under his hold.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. See you tomorr—”

“She has a date with me tomorrow.”

“Wait, Chanh—”

“Right?”

It’s so impossible to miss. Not with the way that maybe if Chanhee blinks, the normal act could’ve probably sent his eyes into a newfound breakdown that he has been trying so desperately to hide. Especially not in front of Juyeon, he’s not about to cry now. 

Your chest raises, inhaling the stuffy air to your beating lungs. Lips parted to start speaking your thoughts and Chanhee watched with a more definite crease between his eyebrows as you could only articulate the sounds of some familiar words, unable to audibly tell him anything. For what seemed like forever, you both just looked at each other. You tilt your head every single time your best friend directs his attention away to his house slippers back to your eyes. Beneath the tough exterior that he’s putting on, it’s easy for you to see how something is troubling him. 

The first one is his attire. Unless you were in a life-or-death situation, there is no way Chanhee would stain the white satin button-up and long pants. There was one time when you were begging profusely for a late-night snack and spontaneous hangout but even then, he just nodded and hummed into the phone, telling you that he needs to “keep the white pure, away from the sins of the outside world.” 

Juyeon quietly leaves the scene, hand giving a tight squeeze before disappearing for the night.

“Let’s sit down?” You offer, uncertainty clouding your judgement. 

The bench awaits patiently for you, the jacket lazily slopped over it. You’re so tense and unsure about the situation that even taking the steps up the dry stairs was so quiet—more silent than the shaking exhales that the puff of coloured air made due to the cold. Your fingers brush against the fine hair of the material but you didn’t put it on yourself. The tips of your hair flip around to see your best friend not even anywhere near the bottom step, still frozen in the same place as before.

Knowing that you won’t be in the mood to skate after whatever confrontation and conversation you’ll have with him, you pack your bags, slipping off into comfortable shoes for running—if you really have to. Chanhee’s bangs fell over his eyes easily with the downward tilt of his head, a miracle that his neck wasn’t cramping right now. From the shadows on the ground, a long line goes over his head and his shoulder lazes a new heavy material. The body part tries to shake the warmth stubbornly but a click of your tongue is what stops Chanhee from flopping around like a dying fish.

“Did you know my dad used to be in the mafia?”

It’s supposed to take you both out of this challenging atmosphere but you know that even though his eyes are hidden because of his posture and his grown strands, he isn’t going to return the playfulness. The strap of your backpack is the only one that knows your nervousness, croaking due to the leather material, your nails probably engraving this moment into its skin.

“Juyeon…huh?” 

A broken laugh comes out from you, eyes wandering to the background space around his head area. Has the wall always had that crack on the wall? Oh…how is the fly surviving in this weather? Is it raining outsi—

“Do you like Juyeon?”

“W-What?” Why did the question hurt so much to hear? “I’m dating you, Chanhee.”

“I don’t think anyone believes it to be honest.” He shrugs, adamant about staying focused on the topic. “I just wanted to know,” His eyes dart around the place, anywhere but to you, “wanting to know if you’re part of the ninety percent of our cohort that likes him.”

“Oh.” It was out of nowhere but being suspicious isn’t the right word to describe it. It was more to curiosity as to why Chanhee would just ask such a thing all of a sudden. “I do think he’s attractive.” You shrug leisurely, unaware of the screaming in his head. “He’s a good partner too.”

Chanhee tries his best to mask the growing ache in his chest, blankly nodding. “He is your type after all.”

“I have a type?” One of your eyebrows rises, “I didn’t even know that myself.”

“Right…” Finally, the food is shoved into your chest, just like how it’s always been. If so, then why did it hurt you when he told you, “Date him then.”

An immeasurable kind of clench was made by the muscles around your heart.

“W-What?”

Thank god you changed shoes because he stormed out right after.

Your phone also became silent, no more life was given to Chanhee. What annoyed you most wasn’t the ‘good’ news that spread to the boys but the fact that he would make it so obvious that he hated you whenever you would make your presence known to him.

“Talk to him after this.” Juyeon encourages you, handing your bottle of water from his hand.

“I can’t.” You huffed. “He treats me like a plague.”

You quite literally cannot have this in your mind right now. The competition is in a few hours and you messed up both of your rehearsals for tonight. The slight pain that throbs from your lower palm will be, you swear, used to slap someone who truly deserves a wake-up call. As the sun rose each day for the past week, it also burnt along your hopes that Chanhee would talk and ease your worries so that you could dance freely, marking your perfect twirls on the ice that shines along with you. 

Juyeon’s eyes relax, sending you a slumped smile with half-lidded eyes. “Does he know about tonight?”

You did indeed send him a message about today but you’re doubtful that he would come. You even tried bribing him with free food but maybe the boy knows that your anger might turn to something more, saving himself from your hits and complaints. 

But you’re just unaware of what he’s truly trying to save himself from.

The sunset marks the start of the open doors. Relatives, schoolmates, acquaintances and even strangers bustle through with their appropriate clothes—including a young girl with short sleeves that you are sure would throw a fit to ask her mother for a jacket—all gathered to support the skaters, especially those who have university representatives to impress.

With the cute bright pink mittens, the waving hands catch your attention quickly. You send a quick wave back to your sister who waves the supportive banner she made, along with your parents who gave you thumbs up, placing their hands around the circumference of their mouth to shout and holler at you.

It’s all so awesome.

But it would’ve been perfect had someone else come.

The realisation makes your heart drop. Chanhee has always come to all your competitions without fail but this one, when everything is on the line. Before you have to completely push your phone away, your thumbs search for his contacts, automatically just checking in your recent section. Even though the relationship between you is ambiguous, you couldn’t find it in you to change his name which implies a romantic title for him.

It seems right.

It seemed that no one should have that title but him.

Your eyelids collect as much water as they can before it spills onto the phone screen. It seemingly glitches the words on the glass, distorting your spam messages for him. “Just come…please…” you whisper before texting him the same exact words that you just said.

But he decides to crush the final hopes that you ever had in him, leaving you on seen once again. The familiar shout that gathers all the players rings through your ears and Juyeon’s figure behind you also tells you that it’s time to push Chanhee aside for now.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Ju…” The truth spills out and even though the boy has things to ask, he decides to let you rant before going. “But I want him to be.”

You know this now with the distance he puts between you. 

It’s suffocating. 

More than dehydration. More than the minus temperature. More than the scratch on your hand.

“I just want him, Juyeon…” Beads in your eyes, shaking lips and true feelings. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He nods, wishing the best for you. “I knew that my feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.” 

It lifted off a weight in your chest, knowing that Juyeon’s reassurance that you would both still stay friends. You both sway beautifully on the ice, balancing and leaving the audience in awe, judges in amazement and competitors in envy. If there is one thing you can take away from this, is that for you, being on ice with someone else can truly be fun. You both promise to meet each other on the ice next time, in the future, professionally and relieve this perfect teammate chemistry once again.

And now, you’re shaking your limbs, trying your best to ease your nerves.

Still no sign of him.

You force your neck to look down, just focusing on the marks of the moulded plastic and leather, plunging the front spikes of the shoes into the floor.

“That’s…going to make a mark.”

That voice.

The one that could ever stare at you with a blank stare and contain his laughter. The one that would leave others in fear whenever a sinister smile and wiggling of eyebrows would be sent to each other. The same one that stands beside you, taking the blame alone when the drenched teacher finds you both.

The same one that would usually sit by your sister and make the banner with her, splashing on extra glitter and Hello Kitty stickers. The same one that would lend his luxury brand accessories, not getting mad if you accidentally broke it.

It propels you forward to his already half-opened arms, waiting for you, always reserved for you. Just as you promised to yourself, Chanhee takes the hits on his chest, listening to your words and letting his clothes seep your cries.

“I know, I’m sorry.” One hand encircles your waist from behind, the other patting your hairsprayed scalp. “I won’t lie that I skipped the one you did with Juyeon but I know your parents recorded it so,” he shrugs, “but I’m here for the main performance. Yours.”

Your small chuckle made him do the same. “You’re not wearing a stupid outfit.”

Chanhee hums. “I thought I would be a very supportive friend and won’t embarrass you for this event.”

“Boyfriend.”

“W-What?”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

It leaves him in a daze but he knows that you weren’t joking. To him, his gulp seemed a bit loud but maybe with the way you slowly left his arms, you might’ve missed it. 

“I love you, Chanhee.” Your eyes searched for rejection but all he did was blink at you rapidly. You took this as a sign to keep going. “I think I always have and you being idiotic just made it clear to me.”

“O-Oh…”

“D-Do you—” You shake your head, waving your hands the same way to him. “Actually don’t tell me! Let me skate first. J-Just watch me…”

When was the last time Chanhee has seen you so flustered? It leaves him breathless and his heart soaring and he knows within himself that he wants to be the only one to ever put you in that state. He gives a nod, a smile plastered on his face. You thought he would join your parents on the bench but he stays near the entrance of the rink, giving your lower back the lightest touch, whispering you a final message before you enter the spotlight.

The message rings in your ear the whole time. The music suddenly fades but every time you could catch a glimpse of Chanhee, you know that he didn’t say it for you to feel flustered and fail. 

And fail, did you not. 

The reward on the podium with a gold medal hanging around your neck sends you many obstacles of representatives who want you to join the team. But they could wait.

Just like a few minutes ago, your arms circles his neck, pushing Chanhee’s lips to your own. A few seconds before your lips meet him, the boy lets out a little ‘hmph’ before he softens, his eyes closing in the same time and way yours does. The way the cold replaces the warmth of his lips leaves you both chuckling even when he momentarily pushes you away to save himself from the tickles that you gave his waist. But once again, the words that he whispers against your shy lips remind you that his eyes have always held the same love that you have given him and the way your lips move passionately in sync with his, tells you that he wasn’t playing around with his words.

With your heart.

With you.

“I love you,” he tells you with his lips.

The motives behind his proposal with this whole fiasco become clear and the redness on your face is no longer due to the energy-consuming routine that you just performed. It deepens when he gives you his mittens, slipping them through your fingers and messaging each one with care. It deepens further when he lends you a fabric to keep your throat healthy so that you can confess to him again. It deepens even more when he realises that you’re shivering after the adrenaline of your sport drains you and he wraps his scent around your uniform.

“Thanks for making my winters warmer.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

[from-m-izzy]

perfect for you | the boyz choi chanhee | new

“Will you trust me even if I break you?”

» ​PAIRING: tbz choi chanhee (new) x fem!reader » TROPE/AU​: established relationship au!, non-idol au! » GENRE​: smut 18+ (mdni!!) 🔞 fluffy sex, chanhee is a really caring and attentive boyfriend » WORD COUNT: 2263 » ESTIMATED READING TIME: ~9 mins » WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!): soft dom!chanhee, sub!reader, pet names (baby girl), marking (reader receiving), fingering, clit stimulation, piv sex, creampie, sex on table, praising (chanhee to reader), slight dirty talking (chanhee to reader), not proofread

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

happy birthday @sanaxo-o!! a bit (a LOT! 😭) rushed but i hope you find a way to enjoy this 😘

"Chanhee!" 

It's a usual occurrence for your boyfriend to sneak up behind you and give you a big, warm hug. His chuckle that can be heard after your exclamation, and the way he wraps both his arms around your shoulder always undoubtedly made you feel like the happiest girl in the whole wide world.

"Come to bed." He whispers next to your left ear with a whine after, "I don't want to sleep without you."

"I will." You directed your attention back to the neatly stacked pile of books. You are so ready to push all these smelly, slightly brown, definitely creased-up pages in preparation for your final economics exam tomorrow, "I just finished." 

Before you can even push the book even further away from your body, another arm pushes it away first. "Good." No more words were said after because he flips you around and steals a kiss from your lips. Chanhee catches you by your right upper arm when you stumble slightly at his actions, smiling fondly at your flustered state. "I got you, don't worry."

You chuckle, breaking the kiss for a bit, "You've always got me since day one."

Another chuckle is heard from his lips before he leans down to you once again, closing the gap between his hungry lips and your still innocent one immediately. It continues passionately and you can tell that he intends to keep it that way for a lot longer. The way his slender hands cup your cheeks delicately unlike how his tongue swipes your bottom lip leaves you gasping incoherent words straight down his throat. You couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer, already too lost in the way that Chanhee was physically pouring out all his love to you.

His left hand slithers behind your lower back, crashing your bodies onto each other and you can no longer control how your knees shake, the same way your lips tremble whenever he pulls away to give you some more oxygen to inhale. You would have hit the floor if it wasn’t for the way his other palm traces along, the tips of his fingers just barely touching the bare skin of the side of your left thigh before putting a bit of force, landing and gripping on the dip of your waist. 

“Here?” You whisper between breaths. Between the session, your hands already had a mind of their own, scrunching up the oversized pink sweater that doesn’t even belong to you up to your waist, your underwear already in full view for the dominating eyes who peer down at you with lust.

He pulls away for longer this time, actually putting a bit of a distance between you both. If your cheeks weren’t red enough before, it’s now definitely flaring under his intense gaze, especially with the wet string that still comfortably hung in the air on your bottom lips. 

It held your everything, the same way that he has your everything.

“If you’re up for it.”

The way you quickly nod to his invitation is what sends Chanhee’s once soft grip on your arm down straight to your clothed core. He watches thoughtfully at the way you crane your neck backwards, cursing into the warm air. Taking this open opportunity, he moves his fingers painfully slow, particularly finding the wet and darker spot on your pink panties. It sends you squirming and over the edge almost too quickly, your back arching off the counter and he keeps his hand still and lets you moan freely when you push against the tips of his fingers.

“Oh God…”

“Raise your head, bubs. I want to kiss you.”

But you physically can’t. Not with the way he whispers it so seductively and not with the way his index and thumb hook around the crotch of the fabric that keeps on getting damper as time passes by. Chanhee didn’t need to know anymore, knowing well that your body couldn’t hold on for any longer, desperate for a release to take place—for him though, he has other things that he wants to do to you before that.

First, the marks around your clean neck need to be fixed. When he did lean forward so did the way his two fingers underneath you pull the fabric down and release it, slapping your sensitive clit as a result. You couldn’t even scold him for it because your neck suddenly felt cold with the way he ran his tongue on your collarbones and the added little touches and nudges from his nose on the crook of your neck is the reason why you started to tear up.

“Stay still for a bit.” 

Knowing very well that you couldn’t though, Chanhee takes it upon himself to place a hand behind your nape, straightening your posture. Oh, how he wished you picked a better outfit for this as well because the neckline of his top is too tight for him to easily expose more skin around your neck. However, when Chanhee wants to place kisses on your neck, he must, he will and he has always succeeded. Just like now as he uses his chin to anchor the fabric down to trap you between two forces: his harsh sucks from his pretty lips and the harsher grip that he has behind your neck.

“C-Chanhee, move your fingers please.”

Finally, the begging begins and you could curse him out for the momentary smirk against your skin before he lunges in once more to the other collarbone, this time using his teeth to mark his love bites on your still clean skin. Down where your aching, lonely pussy was in his hands that still ghost the opening of your body. There is a lot of self-control happening here for both of you, especially for Chanhee because he has never left you this deprived of his touch before for such a long time during sex.

The thoughts make your head spiral and the tears finally roll down your flushed cheeks. When you open your eyes for a second, you see the moment of hesitation and the way his lips parted in surprise.

“No, no.” You quickly rebut. Your hands fly up to wrap around his neck, pushing him back down to your neck, “I’m fine, please keep going.”

“How far are you willing to take this, baby girl?” There goes the pet name that is reserved for you only within private settings. This makes you excited and Chanhee feels this with the way you let out a gush of lubrication on his fingers. He pushed back against the strength of your arms, staring straight at your half-hooded eyes. Stealing another kiss and licking the drool off your lips, you know your moans aren’t enough for him to continue, “Tell me or else I’ll stop right now.”

“Chanhee…” In all the previous sex sessions together, he always treated you gently. The way his hands would knead the sides of your waist against the mattress, kissing down your stomach to the insides of your thighs, all so perfect for him and you. But you can tell through the flash that runs across his eyes that he has wanted to be more rough on you, use more force and what happened just then, you know is the first step towards his hidden desires. You shyly smile at your boyfriend, cupping his cheek and reassuring him. “Do whatever you want to do. I trust you.”

“Will you trust me even if I break you?”

“You can break my body if you want to,” Your side of your index finger traces down his jawline before turning its finger pad on his chin to act as a hook, bringing his face closer to you. You realise now that he is panting…pretty hard, “but that will never break my trust for you.”

That’s all it takes for him to let go of his worries.

Unfortunately for your aching core, he snaps the fabric once more and you gasp sharply at the feeling. You should’ve maybe known that the gasps would increasingly get louder in the next few seconds. Chanhee lifts you by your ass, plopping your body down to the shorter side of your rectangular study desk and he makes himself comfortable between your legs that he had to forcefully separate. 

His fingers continue to rub against your folds, hushing whilst telling you to let go all over him. With your eyes rolled back and your neck falling backwards, Chanhee praises you for the first mess of the night.

The increasing darkness in his eyes should have been enough indication for you because, without another warning, your exposed stomach and bra are now visible to his eyes. Further, he couldn’t wait any longer to see you fully, hooking one of his fingers to the centre gore of your bra, seeing the slight bounce of your breasts as they breathed free in the chilling air.

Chanhee licks his lips, scanning your topless figure, grunting at the sight of everything that he has ever wanted in his life. He didn’t waste another moment and you didn’t even bother to bat an eye when you saw your laptop being pushed away from the corner of your eye, almost at the edge of the table by how desperate the two of you are for each other. A little push was given to your shoulder and you lay your heated back on the small desk. The sudden change in temperature makes you want to curl up to conserve your body heat, including your knees that have started to rise but failed to when they get pushed back down. 

"Shit." There was that little nudge behind the thin fabric of his pants that made your entire body shake. “God, you’re so…ugh…” 

“Don’t know if you should be muttering his name when I’m right here.” Determination courses through his body when the visible tip of the tent from his pants makes contact with your aching core. You whimper and twist your body to the side, unable to handle the newfound pleasure that he’s giving you.

Chanhee keeps a grip on your shuddering body by your arms, communicating for you to keep still under him from his eyes. You get the message, clashing your lips with his to devour every bit of him. He keeps your mouth busy as he rolls your panties down just enough for you to kick it off somewhere in the room and takes care of his pairs afterwards.

A hand supports his long shaft, Chanhee purposely nudges the tip of the head onto your swollen clit, pushing and pulling to hear the moans release from you whenever he does so. You're still very sensitive with your senses heightened and he's using that to his very advantage.

There's a smirk painted on his lips but the hand that cups your face says that he’s still willing to stop if you give him any indication. But fuck that because there's no way you would tell him to stop. Not when he lays his forehead to yours and starts pushing himself into your dripping hole. 

“Good girl,” Chanhee kisses the sweat dripping down the side of your face. “I’m going to keep going.” And he starts to push in deeper through different angles, moving through your velvet walls at the pace that you like.

It’s times like these when you remember once more that Chanhee is the only one for you: his hand that holds the curves of your waist, the other reaching the base of your neck but never hurting you, gripping your flesh with the right possessiveness, his moans that rile you up even further, the way he controls the rolling of his hips with yours so that he can touch the spot that makes you delirious, how he tries his best to keep his eyes open not only because he wants to see you under him but also to make sure you’re alright despite wanting to deprive the sensory information so that he can focus on the feeling where your bodies meet—he’s so perfect for you.

“C-Chanhee…” Your nails lightly scratch the surface of his arms, feeling the familiar wave of pleasure growing closer and closer to you. “I’m so close!...”

“Me too.” He groans and feverishly kisses your lips. “I want you to focus on the sensations from your lower body parts.” He buries his lips in the crook of your neck, biting and pulling your skin with his teeth. “Can you be a good girl and do that for me?” His pelvis continues to do his work on your body, his hold on your hips keeping you from moving too far away from his thrusting. His thumbs swipe your skin, a silent plea for you to release first. “Come on, baby girl.” He grits his teeth, his neck veins visible, “Let go all over me.”

Within a few seconds, you come undone under his hold and Chanhee releases his love for you deep inside your body. His arms give out immediately, burying his face into your chest, gulping and relishing how your liquids mixed, taking in the drip that escapes and runs down from your hole. Chanhee still lets out praises, kissing every part of you that he can, smiling at your pants and ‘thank you’s.

“You’re so perfect.” Whispering to the shell of your ear, patting your head and soothing you from the passionate session. “You did so well.”

“I love you.” It comes out a bit croaked but the genuine emotions from it didn’t get lost.

“I love you too.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿@sanaxo-o

[biaswreckingfics]

hi britt !! wanted to say happy 3k AND happy 5th anniversary 🎉😚💖 for ur celebration event, i was wondering if u could do chanhee + royal au ? i was thinking something like miscommunication like A finds out B is supposed to be married to someone else, but wasn't sure what dynamic specifically 🤧 dunno if that fits ur categories but thank u so much :'))

Thank you, bb!! 🤧🤧❤️❤️ I hope you like this!!

Prince!Chanhee + miscommunication (slight angst)

Confusion floods through you when Chanhee passes by with only a nod. You pause for a moment, questioning what just happened, before you turn around and look at his retreating back. Never once, in your entire time at the palace, has the prince ignored you like this, and it hurts more than you're willing to admit.

"Prince Chanhee," you call out before you can think better of it.

His movement immediately comes to a halt and he turns to face you with a questioning gaze. The two of you stare at each other for a beat before you take tentative steps toward the other. Once the distance is closed, you search his pretty face for answers, but his face is unreadable.

"Is something wrong?"

"Not at all. Why do you ask?"

His formal words have your guard rising and you shake your head. "Don't. We've never been Iike that before, so please don't start now."

Chanhee looks away from you, and it's then that you notice the tick in his jaw. However, before you can ask about it, his bright gaze finds yours. "I hear congratulations are in order."

Your brows furrow. "Congratulations? For what?"

"Your upcoming nuptials," he answers with a barely contained scoff.

The words repeat in your head as you try to process them, but they're so unhinged you can barely fathom them. Slowly, you say, "I don't have any upcoming nuptials."

Chanhee searches your bemused expression. The tethered anger he's hiding slowly drains away. "You're not getting married?"

"Who on earth would I be marrying?" You ask, bewildered.

"But Jaehyun said -" He stops and takes a deep breath. "I was told you're marrying a Duke from the neighboring country."

A laugh bursts out of you at the absurd rumor. Of course, this would somehow come down to Jaehyun. He was always spreading around every word he heard, regardless if it were true or not. You thought Chanhee knew not to believe everything that little weasel said.

"Chanhee, my cousin wants to marry the Duke… I'm too busy being in love with the prince."

[ikeuverse]

it will not be in vain | chanhee

mafia!chanhee x fem!reader

gender: angst, a little sadness, revenge

warnings: mention of drugs, weapons. mention of fights and injuries. hospital and bandages too, but nothing explicit.

wc: 1386

notes: this is like a spin off of a story i put together for my friends (tbz and our group as mobsters). chanhee and ille is one of the main couples that goes missing and we teamed up to find them both… this part would be the post-meeting of both hurt. i will try to develop something else and even from other boyz couples. and this is to mark my return too, it's been a while since I've posted here. hope you like it!

✧ m.list ✧

Everything in front of him passed in slow motion. Associating what happened with the current moment made every crease of Chanhee's body ache overwhelmingly. The friends in the hospital room pacing back and forth, the security guard bigger than the door was in there too, just watching the rush the boys were in when Eric almost screamed when he saw his friend with his eyes open.

“He woke up” the boy ran to the hospital stretcher “Hey Chanhee, are you alright? How it feels?"

“Eric, let him breathe” Haknyeon tried to grab his friend by the shoulders, but it was too late. The youngest was almost laying down on top of Chanhee with teary eyes and rosy cheeks, indicating that he would cry again – he spent the last few hours in tears, but he didn't want Chanhee to know that.

“I'm fine, just—” Chanhee felt a sharp pain in his stomach as he shifted to try to get himself up on the bed. “Where is she?”

Silence.

The room, which had previously been noisy with conversations and footsteps, immediately stopped when Chanhee said something. It was the first thing that crossed his mind when he opened his eyes that day.

“She's fine” Juyeon tried to smile.

"You don't have to fool me" he felt the pain in his stomach again when he got back on the bed with Eric's help, until a snarl came out of his mouth. He then looked down to see that his entire hip was bandaged and bandaged “I remember the state we were found in.”

“You and y/n gave us a huge scare” Eric wiped the tears that had just fallen from his cheeks “But she's really fine, it's just…”

“A little worse than you” Haknyeon shrugged as he said.

“I know…” he sighed softly.

Memories of the night before came to his mind and for the first time Chanhee felt afraid. He knew his job was dangerous enough to put him at risk like that. Being part of the mafia's artificial intelligence was not for everyone. It was much easier than his friends' work, of course. He was always in the office, operating security cameras, devices, weapons and anything involving technology that could help his team.

He was great with numbers, he just didn't know that he would later use his knowledge for that sort of thing.

It wasn't all bad, after all, he was part of the justice mafia. They were good after all, they tried to help people, even though they messed with exorbitant amounts of money, drugs and booze. Even because not everyone thought the same as Chanhee, others liked to use, have fun – whether or not they needed to be drunk and high.

The fact was that, in this environment, mafia made alliance with mafia and so on, it was a cycle to have allies and people to trust. Even if it was practically impossible. And he found himself surrendered when the mafia of girls got in his way. Y/n was his opposite. She worked with weapons, negotiations and disguises. Things where Chanhee felt his heart go out of his mouth as much as seeing his friends on a mission almost getting shot.

Falling in love with a mafia woman was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, because he knew it would be risky, because like in all mafia movies, something always happens. And it was exactly what he predicted.

“They will get us” y/n whispered inside that hotel closet “And I want you to escape through the window.”

"What?" Chanhee wanted to scream at the audacity, thinking he would leave without her "You've got to be kidding me."

“Nope” for the first time Chanhee saw y/n seriously, without a single smile directed at him at that moment “They know me, they know who I am. But you…” the woman sighed, placing her hand on Chanhee's chest and feeling the heart speed up more and more “You're behind the computers, no one has ever seen you to know if you work in a mafia or not.”

“So you're implying, indirectly, that you're going to risk it for me? Are you going to risk your life?”

“Babe, I…” a loud bang at the door made her still.

And it was the last thing they talked about before finding them and starting that incessant body fight.

Like the mob Chanhee worked for, y/n's also had its AI tech – who became one of Chanhee's best friends in the process while he met the woman he fell in love with – and she had done all the work inspect every corner of the hotel they were in when he saw the strange movement. Stella, her best friend, knew that taking a vacation when you worked in the mafia wasn't something that could happen. She then she was attentive to every detail until she managed to trigger everyone who could help Chanhee and y / n.

“If I'm alive it's thanks to Stella” Chanhee got up with some difficulty, leaning on Eric as he walked slowly across the room “She didn't rest while I was with y/n in that hotel.”

“And thanks to us” Juyeon whimpered “Do you know how many kicks me and Sangyeon took from that thug who almost shot you?”

“I know, idiot” he laughed with some pain “Thanks to you too…” he couldn't stop thanking his friends for sure, they all contributed to him and y/n being alive at that moment. Besides, Chanhee still needed to see her, and as a wordless request, Eric already knew.

Then he positioned the wheelchair at the back of the room so that he could accompany Chanhee to the other room with security and y/n's friends also around.

“You woke up” Stella was the first to greet the boys when they arrived “How do you feel?”

“Good” Chanhee interspersed his gaze between her and the bedroom door, without much courage to ask since she also couldn't walk all that way because she was in too much pain.

Stella then gave way to the boy along with Eric, with whom she exchanged a few words before the two entered the room.

The scene he never wanted to see was before his eyes. Y/n wasn't awake, the bruises all over her body were just as bad as his, in which his face didn't hurt as much, so Chanhee deduced not to have many cuts like hers. If he remembered the physical fights he faced along with the boys who arrived to help, she didn't rest a second trying to protect Chanhee from all that.

Tears welled in his eyes as he forced himself to his feet and wander over to the bed where she appeared sedated and resting.

“Hey, I'm here” he whispered through his tears.

By this time Eric was crying profusely when he said goodbye and left to give the two more privacy.

“I can't believe you did this for me, I can't believe y/n…” his lips reached the woman's forehead, kissing carefully and afraid that she would feel pain even if she was sleeping at the moment.

For a few minutes, Chanhee cried all he had inside of him for remembering all the things until they got to where they were, until he was finally able to be together with y/n.

“You're hurt, you took a risk for me and…” a sob stifled by Chanhee, he slowly slid his hand until he found hers. With care and because of many hits, he held her as he could and intertwined his fingers as he could too “I will reward.”

Since she couldn't argue with he, Chanhee took the opportunity to kiss her forehead once more, never letting go of the hand of the girl in front of he.

“I'm going after the one who did this one by one, I swear to you” he said quietly, even though it was just the two of them inside. “I'm going to make them pay for what they did to you. It will not be in vain.”

Bringing their foreheads together, he closed his eyes.

“Not even if I personally kill each one. But I swear that none of those who entered that room will come out alive. I swear to you."

to be continued…?

[sugarcherriess]

This is for the Event if that's okiii?

Trope - being looked after by SO after a terrible surgery gone wrong and ended up being an amputation surgery for (reader)s leg. Maybe there's a breakdown or (reader) has a panic attack ?

Ansgt because we love it

Idols - Chanhee / Eric

Specific idol - Eric

I hope that's okiii

JJ 🍉

I tried bestie i hope you like it🥹

Care Giver x Care Receiver with Eric Sohn ft. Choi Chanhee:

cw - angst, arguments, panic attack

Let’s just understand straight off the bat that Eric is the most supportive s/o

NO. MATTER. WHAT

When you get into a life endangering accident that costs you a limb

He sticks by your side through the days you spend passed out under the influence of anaesthesia

And the days where you gained bare minimum consciousness

He stuck by your side through it

Literally by your bedside stroking your head when the doctors gave him permission

His hand always caressing yours

He’d tell you about his day and your own progress even if the meds made his voice sound like gibberish until you fell asleep

When you do truly wake up for real he’s ecstatic

Kissing all over your face because he missed you so damn much

Gets you water and whatever you ask for

Feeds you and dresses you himself

Even brushes your hair until it shines on itself

You seem to be taking the news of your amputation a lot better than anyone assumed so he’s extra glad about that

Although he does find himself walking on eggshells around you

That ends up being for a good cause

Because its finally time to give you a bath a few days after you woke up

Eric comes into your room bright and early with a change of your clothes and your shower necessities

“The doctors said you’ll be discharged today,” he’d be so happy

“I called Chanhee to bring you some necessary things for the afternoon until we finish the paperwork. Then we can go home!”

And thats when the gravity of your situation really hits you

The breakdown starts slow– with the little things

Like not wanting to eat

Being curt with your answers

Not looking him in the eye

You seem mentally absent and he notices all the signs

He’d approach you carefully

And asks you to tell him what you’re thinking.

“Are you okay, darling?”

And that’s when you explode.

“I lost a fucking limb what do you think?”

“The doctor said you’re already making so much improvement–“

“Fuck the doctor? Why do I care what the doctor says?”

“Baby–“

“No! Don’t baby me?! You think it’s easy to lose a part of yourself so easily? Starting a normal day with all of you intact and then waking up one day and finding out you’ll never be the same again?”

He quietly listens to you let out all your emotions

“It sucks! It fucking sucks! I hate it!”

“I know–“

“No you don’t okay! You’re not in my shoes and you can NEVER know what I feel until you go through the same thing,”

At this point you’re screaming in his face.

You’re angry

And you’re tired

Most importantly you’re hurt beyond comprehension

And Eric sees how hard you’re trying to

“Oh darling,”

And you break down into tears

You sob into his shoulders at he envelopes you in his arms

Until Chanhee pokes his head through the door

You see your best friend and it only worsens your state

Your breathing becomes erratic and your body freezes over.

You can hear your heart beat accelerating in your eardrums

Seven million types of thoughts runs through your head all at once

Chanhee rushes over to you just as Eric holds and rubs your hands

“I-m… so… s-scared…” you cry, “I don’t –“

Another violent sob wracks your body as Eric rubs your hands and Chanhee busies himself rubbing your back.

“I don’t k-know a life without it– How will I live without it,” your jaw starts aching with the pressure on your jaw

“You’ll learn,” Chanhee would encourage from besides your head, “you’ve always been an extraordinarily fast learner. You’ll learn to adapt. Learn to live with this pain until it doesn’t hurt anymore,”

“I know it’s scary baby and i know I can never truly understand your pain,” Eric cups your face, “But i will try. I promise,”

“We’ll both try our best. You’ll always have us alongside you,” Chanhee confirms

Your heart beat begins to gradually calm down at their reassurances.

“You’re allowed to grieve,” Eric begins as he pats your head, “and you’re allowed to be angry for as long as you want. But I won’t let you think that you have to go through this alone,”

Chanhee would chime in then

“We know it won’t be the same as the past, but we can still work with changes. Right?”

You nod your head timidly and he kisses your forehead.

“I feel incomplete,”

They’d rush to hug you and caress your shoulders,

Eric kissing your eyes and wiping your tears away

“It wont last for long. You’ll realise you’re a complete whole, with or without something you’ve never had to live without before,”

Your sob turn into sniffing and when they realise that you’ve considerably calmed down, Chanhee would excuse himself

“I got you some homemade juice. Drink it,” he speaks in his assertive no-shit bestie voice

“I’ll tell a nurse to do a check up on you,” he’d say before leaving you and Eric to talk

Which would just be Eric cuddling you and rubbing your head until you fall asleep with your head in his lap

After you wake up with your bones feeling like they got hit by a truck

He’d help you in the bathtub and wash you up

Then he’d order you (and begrudgingly Chanhee) food

Until you’re all set up to be discharged, with a newfound confidence overpowering your very valid anxieties.

But you know these two dumbasses will do their best with you no matter what.

[littleroaes]

The Apple of His Eye (love4eva), c.ch

Inspired by loona yyxy, love4eva

Upon a private boarding school, Choi Chanhee falls from grace after seeking out the forest. Despite his sudden change in perception, his desk mate, Y/n, is determined to secure her place as a distinguished student, with or without Choi Chanhee as her concurrence. With lost innocence and opened eyes, he comes to tempt her to fall from heaven with him…or escape it.

PAIRING ⏵ ( 3rd pov, she/ her ) choi chanhee x fem!reader

GENRE ⏵ Garden of Eden!au, enemies to lovers(ish)!au, academic rivals to lovers(ish)!au (formal to each other), boarding school!au, suggestive, TENSION(literary, rivalry, suggestive...),

WARNINGS ⏵ kissing someone without consent, so much tension, bird mating(youll get it), slight symbolism, proofread once!

WORD COUNT 7.1 k

It is here people! This story does include some symbolism that refers to Garden of Eden(the story). Though, I feel like it's just as enjoyable to read without trying to find them! I am not totally confident in my own skill of presenting these symbols, but I think watching the love4eva MV(re-posted bc bLoCkBeRy cReAtIvE) and knowing the story of Garden of Eden(more in depth, short) is enough to enjoy it! I'm not sure if I should do a short post with the actual symbolism or I'll ruin it then, but we'll see, please enjoy!

like and reblog are highly encouraged !

I DON'T LIKE TO GO OUTSIDE, UV LIGHTS CAUSES MELANOMA.

I enjoy most foods, but grapefruits are too sour, it causes bruises to form in your mouth. Grapes are adequate, but they bother other students when you bite into them,  so I simply avoid them completely. I’m fond of my routines. At 7 PM I wash and change with the other girls and by 7:45 I tuck myself into bed with my three other roommates. I’ve learnt to sleep exactly eight hours, no one comes and wakes me up, I simply sit up and see the other girls doing the same. I’m a simple person, I enjoy being comfortable. Therefore I’m very happy over our school uniform and paper guide for how to style our hair and do our face. 

You don’t need to indulge in materialism or confine yourself to the outside. You’re free to explore the wonders of this corner of the earth, though just this corner. But I sleep well, eat well and have a comfortable social circle, therefore, there is nothing more to ask for. 

On the latest assignment, I wrote better than Chanhee. We sit two and two in the classroom. I’m on the left and Chanhee, my desk partner, are on my right. I noticed when I was little how Mrs.Lee would pat my shoulder if I did good or make really long and satisfying eye contact while complimenting me. And when my results were poorer than Chanhee, he was the one getting words of confirmation and she simply walked past me. 

When in the library, I make sure to be there first. Taking a seat right before the double door so when he walks in, I am the first sight for his eyes to witness. But after I did that the first time, the second time I walked in, he sat in the exact same spot. I have my studying planned out throughout the day. I read new texts in the morning after the health class, then I revise after lunch, during the afternoon after all the classes I continue studying for an hour and I read right before bed time. The boys and girls are on the opposite sides of the building, but we have classes and general free time together. And everytime I walk through the school to get to the next class, he’s reading some thought-provoking essay. 

But today when I went to the library, he wasn’t there. I thought that maybe I was first and took a seat, but he never came out of the double doors. It wasn’t until our first class I saw him on the couch staring out the window. Without his loafers, he has one leg over the other and his right hand under his chin. While that, he stares out the endless forest as if searching for something. When Mrs.Lee calls for a group project and sits immersed within her own desk, my classmates start talking. 

“What is wrong with Classmate Chanhee?” One asks as she picks up the pen to start writing. 

“You have not heard of it?” Another one leans forward. 

“What?” 

Her eyes inspected us daringly before coming even closer and I too started floating towards her. “Classmate Eunjun says he met the devil tonight.” She whispers and snickers. 

“I’ve heard he got bitten by a snake when he did garden work yesterday.” 

“That’s why I hate doing garden work.” 

I turn away from our little circle and observe Classmate Chanhee in his group. The three other classmates discuss the topic on the paper and Chanhee simply gazes the other way. Slowly they come to change focus and I hear how they discuss possibilities and of a mathematical formula. I look over to Mrs.Lee desk and catch her turning towards Chanhee without a clear pattern. At those moments, he turns away from the window and gives his eyes to one of our classmates. 

My classmates fall victim to whispers and I don’t blame them. But yesterday’s afternoon, I saw Chanhee down in Mrs.Lee office. It’s on the second floor and when walking down from the girls rooms and to the library, you have to walk past it. Yesterday, I was about to start my third studying period in the library and took notice of how Mrs.Lee’s door was open. Before I fully passed, I turned my gaze behind to catch a glimpse of the alluring scene behind the door. And there stood Chanhee, with his hands behind his back and facing the wooden floor. Mrs.Lee held a pair of white socks, those we all have to our uniform. But they were spots of dirtiness. Dirtiness you don’t get from doing garden activity. 

When we finish up our group discussions, each of us place the desks in a symmetrical rectangle. My place is on the second row, number seven. Six and five are right beside me on the same row and number eight is my partner, Chanhee. When everyone has taken their seat and pledges their focus on Mrs.Lee, I suspect a faint clatter of paper touching each other. Mrs.Lee back faces us and I side eye my right. Classmate Chanhee has a torn piece of paper in his lap. His fingers gently touch the dramatically folded piece and I look at him. The strange interaction I find myself in only intensifies when Classmate Chanhee looks back.

I wonder what’s wrong with him when he looks at me like that. He sits there without shoes and seemingly no awareness of where in the world he is. Like an ignorant bystander, he has no idea God just walked past him. As I’m thinking that, his extremely drear face turns into some expression I can’t describe. It sends shivers down my spine as if the window just burst open. I feel oddly ill in the midst of the class. He smiles as if we would be friends, but his eyes would be described as evil. 

I feel my back straining and my face desperately shows how displeased I am. But that clatter of paper hears again and I look down to see his hands leaning that teared paper to me. My eyes fall back on his and I feel ill again. I turn my head back to Mrs.Lee as if I’m detached to his bizarre behavior, without taking the paper. 

The voices of my classmates call back when each wall is meters away from me. I have Reina(my friend I'm sharing a room with) on my left and we stay close in line to get our plates. At the front of the desk, the lady with a black apron holds out the cream white plate with flower illustrations. It’s a rectangular table stacked with savory bread, thick soup, meat and fruit. The only rule for the food personal is to use food from St.Louis own garden. 

I hold out my plate with two hands and see how the woman folds out a sourdough bread. Thick layer of sour cream, heavy meat toppings, cherry tomatoes and some chopped arugula. It all is packed neatly in between the bread slices. Before I deviate from Reina, the woman pushes the sandwich to the right side of my plate and places the green apple. 

We sit four and four, I’m at the table furthest down under the 2 by 5 meter painting. 

I have Classmate five beside me and Chanhee in front of me. I take notice of how his hands are under the table and his eyes wander off. As if the plate isn’t there. Chanhee didn’t clatter with papers or look at me strangely after that I folded up that wall between us. But in my mind, his hands kept pulling my thoughts and I can’t recall what Mrs.Lee preached at the chalkboard. 

I turn my head down to my lunch and feel hunger telling me to pick up the textured bread. Classmate five has already eaten half of his sandwich and taken a bite of the apple. I do the same and listen to that chirp sound of the bread breaking and taste the savoriness. The apple contrasts it with its mildly sourness . When I’ve taken exactly three bites I look up and see Classmate Chanhee still seemingly unaware of the plate before him. The bites get tougher and I force my teeth to pressure the other side when I bite down. 

As I observe him, still holding that sandwich to my mouth. Classmate Chanhee turns his head from the painting to the table closest to the window. Mrs.Lee sits in an angle so she can access the full view of each student. After inspecting his very anticipation watching Mrs.Lee gaze out over the hall, I too turn to see what has seized him. 

I can’t seem to understand what truly, Classmate Chanhee is looking at. But after a minute passes, Mrs.Lee bends down over the plate to take a bite of her own bread and greens. The second she does that, I hear the chair before me move quietly. Classmate Chanhee stands up and I see Classmate number six also viewing his figure. He holds his plate that he hasn't touched throughout the lunch. Because of the lack of shoes, each step is deaf. Before he walks out the double doors, I see how he tilts the plate to the trash. Chanhee places his plate beside it and walks out. 

I make eye contact with Classmate six. There’s no grace in this interaction as the second we look at each other, Classmate six tilts her head away and takes another bite of her sandwich. I side eye Mrs.Lee who still eats, unaware of a sudden deviation in her school.

I don’t care about Chanhee, I praise myself. A boy worthy as my rival has become an spiteful outlier at St. Louis. Like his points for the latest test, he has fallen from grace. 

Further into the afternoon, I’m in the library again. A single sunlight pierce through those windows before splitting into thousands of pieces. That first hour I spent my time revising those texts from the first class. Shortly after I lifted one page of notes over the other, but I couldn’t make sense of the key words and arrows. The me from that first class has underlined words without seemingly any intent. 

My hands fall to the table as if making an uproar, but nothing but that sound comes back to me and I walk up from my chair. The backs of books stand in an endless vertical tunnel and I walk past each shelf without looking twice. 

I need to fill that blank space between from when I first met chanhee this morning to his disappearance after lunch. 

I’m deep in the library now. Those shelves tightens around me and conceal the afternoon sunlight. On a plastic stand in red it says “biology” and so I bend my knees down a bit to read the titles on shelf four. Between “The Biology Dictionary” and “Anatomy of The Human Eye” I pick up my title. About the general structure of our human cells. I turn the hardcover in my hands. 

“Authentic Breakdown of The Human Cell” His voice is a lot louder than acceptable for a library and I pretend like it didn’t affect me, but for a moment I could have tripped the entire shelf. 

Closer than a half meter stands Classmate Chanhee behind my shoulder. Tilting his head to analyze the cover in my hands. I try to understand his tired eyes and locked arms behind his back. 

“It is quite a poor choice, Miss.” He says and backs away. 

“And what do you mean with that?” I say and continue searching the shelfs like there’s something left to find. I slowly walk up the hall and he follows after. When Chanhee doesn’t answer my question, I turn to him. He smiles again and I sigh. 

“Won’t you put on a pair of shoes, please.” I say and read the other titles. Chanhee is now right behind me again and finds interest in whatever my eye lands on. 

“The water is still drying off them, you will have to live with it.” 

I, without returning any words, view him briefly. During that moment, he looks at me with a stupid smile and a hand on a book eight shelves over the floor. I simply let my eye fall back and turn on my heel. The emotion I’m feeling makes me grip my Anatomy Cell Book a bit tighter and each step of my shoes does this echoing sound. That sound is so deafening that I feel quite observed. 

My way down to the table, Classmate Chanhee follows me. I sit down and adjust my skirt before folding open the hardcovers. It’s one page between more than a thousand, and I stare at the letters in a way to convince him I’m unaffected. 

“Mrs.Lee lectured about the chromosomes, the events of the nucleus happened last week.” My lip might just crack because of how hard I bite it. My hand places a strand behind my ear that was covering the sight. And Chanhee simply leans on his palm and stares at me like he isn’t just here to be a burden. 

“Doesn’t Classmate have somewhere else to be at this moment?” I ask him with dread. 

“Maybe I do have.” Chanhee says easy, before falling back into the chair. “But I do not think I have the inclination for it.” 

In the midst of our agitated conversation and continued eye contact. Someone comes through the double doors. She greets another person further away from us, I assume the librarian. It gets quiet between us, the steam seems to cool down for the time being. I sit there and stare into nothing, until Chanhee stands behind his seat, looking down at me. 

“Well, I guess I have to take my leave, how unfortunate.” He says and pushes the chair under the table. 

“I feel very fortunate, actually.” 

“You do not understand it, do you?” He smiles, “I’ll may be the only one to rescue you.” 

I want that cold sensation from when I wash my face to drown me. For each second, I scrub my face a bit harder. I find myself in the mirror when I look up again. My hands drip of soap and water and I feel myself wanting to clean off something much deeper within me than the dead bits on my face. 

I tear off some papers beside the mirror and clean off the water before it soaks my clothes. During the same time, to the left, in the mirror, I see Reina with my two other classmates I share a room with, standing in the door opening. That paper can’t absorb anymore water, but even then I fold it between my palms. Each girl stands tightly intertwined with the other and each head nearly leaning on the next. A discolord, wet sink looks up at me when I rub my hands with wet papers and closed jaws. 

Finally I do look up. Behind my single reflection in the scattered mirror, I see Reina observing me there. Our eyes fall into some sort of trance, but she quickly breaks it off and reaches out to the other girls. Without a word spoken between us four, that door shuts me off from them and I have nothing more to stare on than myself. 

Not with too much time in between, I leave the bathroom too. My dress feels like a blanket loosely sewed together and I have no shoes. No sign of a presence in these corridors. The heat from under my feet has no chance against the cold open space of the wooden floor. I stare at a meter high painting and see the moonlight pierce through the chandelier and paint stars on that war scene. I stare at that tragedy before me and catch a silhouette at the floor of my viewpoint. The turn my head does feels awful. My hand reaches out for my sorry neck, but I don’t get to console when everything inside of me turns into chaoticness, like the war scene on the painting. 

“What are you doing here?!” It’s a whisper but in pure rage. 

Choi Chanhee stands under the chandelier in the next hallway. For some unclear cause, he still wears his red blazer and dress shorts. My head watches those two ways our hallway continues. Down to the right the girls' rooms are and to the left, the female teachers. Choi Chanhee finds himself in the girls' part of the school, the complete opposite side of where his bed is. 

“It is very dull there.” Choi Chanhee walks closer to me with hands in his pockets. He inspects the surroundings and I continuously look to my sides. 

“There is nothing interesting here, go away.” 

“There is another painting here.” Choi Chanhee points at that war scene I stared at right before. “It is quite an interesting painting. The painter created a fantastic composition.” 

“You should-” 

The right part of the hallway screams back those steps from a pair of heeled shoes. The female teacher has higher heels than us and that heel to toe action sounds a lot more compact than our male ones. There’s a desperation within me that makes me recall all these doors I’ve seen my whole life. Between a painting and a flower is a door to a closet. I take his wrist because I know my life depends on it and I run for that door because it’s the only thing that can save me. 

I couldn’t dissect his expression before I started running. But when I leap forward, I feel no restriction and I could fall on my knees to thank him for compliance. Behind that door, there is only space for a mop and torn clothes. I want to stand comfortably, but my heel hits a bucket, which also makes a scarring noise as it hits the wall. I breathe in and get nothing but dust in my lungs. I want to get them out of me, but I have no choice but to suffocate them further down my throat. There is no light beside small gaps between the woods. 

“Do you want to suffer forever ?” I whisper again as the adrenaline continuously drowns my self regulation and critical thinking. 

“Tell me why I will suffer?” He asks. 

The darkness wraps around us like blankets. My horrendous dress pushes against his clean blazer and I make out a faint part of his face. 

I wonder if his eyes have also started to adapt to this darkness. If he looks down at me now too, because I simply look at the gap between the door and the wall. My mouth doesn’t open because I don’t think to answer his question. The silence keeps whatever dignity I have left in me. As I listen to the teacher's heels on the cold hard floor, I come to think of my peers. The girls whisper and secretive stares. I try to run away from these thoughts, but I know I’m flawing. 

“This is very exciting.” 

I look at him again. For some reason he continuously has that boyish smile on. He’s picking on shattered glass as if they were flowers, and I truly wonder what has happened to him. 

“You’re sick.” I whisper. 

Chanhee smiles and comes closer so that the blazer pushes up even more against my dress. The air is dry and I feel like breaking a window. The humidity feels exotic and suffocating, so I should escape from it. 

With nothing more than a grip on my arm, he puts his lips on my own. I don’t look in a certain direction and my hand hangs awkwardly down my sides. It is warm, like fire and red just like it. I find his action to be confusing and when he moves back to his own corner of the closet, I have this wet feeling on the spot where he was. I bring the arm of my dress to my lips and dry off whatever trace he has left on me. And only at this moment, I see myself from a third person. The upper half of my body pushing against his. I feel each movement of my heart and how it aches while I focus on each breath. 

It’s shameful. Our eyes have adjusted to this darkness and Chanhee can see my full figure. I want to hide, but there’s nothing here. There is nothing other than this useless blanket to a dress to cover my vulnerabilities. And when his fringe tickles my nose I leave that closet. 

Without care I throw that piece of wood out my way. I don’t look back to whatevers behind me and walk straight to my room. I hold my arms around my chest, and it is not because I’m cold. 

The afternoon is relatively empty when I’m in the library. There’s a girl two tables away from me that’s in another class. And a boy one floor above mine. My table is covered in hardcovers as I try to revise the last class. Biology, the scientific study of life and for this moment, the behavior, chains and events in animal life. 

I try to extract keywords from how the avian develops post birth, but my mind drifts away to rainy days beside the classroom window. I don’t like observing the window. I find the classroom to be the only real thing in my square vision. But today before lunch, I tilted my head on my palm and watched a raven escape the downpour. Their wingspan is larger than a crow and its night colors and devious hair made me think it doesn’t belong in this timeless place.  

I stare at that white page with unending black streaks, waiting for something I don’t believe in. As a sudden rainstorm in clear sunlight bursting through the library window, I get my book pulled down from my face. That storm from before comes crashing in from all directions, shaking the hardcovers left on my table. His golden eyes stare intensely into mine like that first morning class. 

I should ignore this boy like everyone else, let him die as in no longer recognising his existence. But I keep leaning into his magnetic field. He’s got strings attached to me and knows exactly when to pull it. 

“You have quite a collection here.” Chanhee says and without aim lifts up a hardcover. 

Chanhee starts reading, something I haven’t seen him do since that last library period before the girls and boys went to their respective halls. I try to make sense of his expression, but neither eyes, lips, brows twitch or change. The rain beating up the dirty windows is the loudest thing in the room. I tap my fingers a bit. 

“What do you think about it?” I ask him. 

With his fingers, he separates two pages of the ones he’s reading. The book falls to his lap and he looks up to me again. It doesn’t take long before he turns on the book, back to front, smiling as he does it. I feel weirdly perceived at this moment so I flatten my skirt and raise my chin. 

“It is quite disturbing, isn’t it?” He chuckles. 

“Disturbing?” I ask him with a scoff. 

He leans closer over the table with the white pages turned against the ceiling. His head hangs low so when he looks up at me, I feel like he wants to tell me a secret. It’s no use keeping secrets I thought before, but I find myself leaning in, in an effort to close our space. 

“This example;” He coughs, “On a spring morning behind the new flourished nature. Flying towards left and then right in a serene manner. Then,” He coughs, “Then…” His voice lowers, “...one takes on another and forgets the great heights, instead slowly sinking down to earth, tightly leaped together. In the dying practice the female enunciates… ” 

His voice is incredibly low, incredibly quiet. He stops suddenly and I wonder if the girl two tables away hears this awful of a reenacting. Chanhee looks at me, eyes nearly not closing just to stare at mine and his lips twitch as if he is hesitant. 

“Yes?” I say and lift my head. 

I can hear paper tearing the moment he looks away from me and down at the book. 

“...the female enunciates a loud piercing cry…” 

At this point, we are completely in a secluded plane of this earth. I pull the hardcover closer to me and I straighten my back as if it’s exciting. My four imagined walls force us closer and the heat of each word he articulates warms up this space. He looks at me, like I’m the only one who will ever hear it. 

“...of ecstasy.” 

The air is dry and I fight to fill my lungs without being perceived by him. I desperately grab onto my own book as I continue to never break our eye contact. Suddenly, Chanhee falls back in his chair and smiles. The air pushes out with such a force that it becomes the loudest sound in the library. I think he broke our bubble. 

“Is this a common practice at St.Louis?” His head is tilted to the left, as if he’s deeply in thought with his own question. Until he once again breaks into a smile and I take the book from my lap up to the table. 

“Your ignorance is understandable.” He says, “I suppose you lack of, how should I put it? History?” 

My eyes fall back, maybe far enough to catch a sight of my own brain. I turn to the girl behind us and then up towards the boy. They are unknown to the scene playing before them. 

“My morals commands me to ignorance.” 

“Condemns you.” He corrects me, “To read is of course important, but somehow you simply absorb the words without understanding a deeper context. Experience is vital.” 

“Is it?” I pierce through him. Turn the blade over his body to conceive him. 

“What makes you qualified to give that advice?” I ask. 

He looks up at the ceiling window and the pouring rain, “I suppose I know the world quite greater than you.” Chanhee stares at me in silence before continuing, “Enough to recognize that your horizons must be…” He squints his eyes, “..widened, by an extraordinary man.” 

"An immoral man.” I correct him. 

As much as I am answering his outlandish questions, I sense an observer. I continuously correct my posture to draw some visual lie over this conversation. The dark wooden shelves cover for us and I start to tap my heel against the floor. 

Chanhee after some time leans forward again, “Can I offer you a proposition?” 

“Maybe. I am not searching for something at the moment.” I answer him. With that he takes one hand over a hardcover on the table. His hair brushes past the left side of my face and I feel a humid feeling push against me. 

“What if I tell you that I can promise you eternal knowledge?” Chanhee whispers. 

I’ve been holding my pride on a pedestal, holding it free from the monstrosity. But the moment those words fell off his lips, I think my beauty ached once more. I stopped reading mid-sentence to watch his face. My body visibly moves closer over the table. A second or two passes of myself just making sense of the person behind these eyes. 

“You can’t do that.” I fall back to my chair and pick up that book again. 

He tilts his head to the left, “It looks like you are very certain about that, why?” 

“It’s fallacious.” I say and put the hardcover in my lap, “Either way, your suggestion is  pathetic.” 

Chanhee too leans back on the chair. His head hangs low and a faint light like a falling star, is hidden between his bangs. His gaze is ugly and distasteful, just as his proposition, but I don’t break that contact. Instead I stare just as passionate back at him. I’m defending my pride, my grace, the beauty left within me. 

At this time around, I know what he is. Chanhee doesn’t belong. His nails are covered in dirt and his eyes are in my direction, but he doesn’t look at me. He has seen the outside world, there is nothing to desire between these four walls and that hunger grows inside him. There is nothing left to save him and I should leave my books and run. Run so far away my feet can take me. But I look the devil in the eyes, to tell him to prove himself to me. 

“You’re very resistant, there is nothing to persuade you?” He asks.

I shake my head. 

He then sighs and lets his hands fall to his lap. “It’s just a suggestion” He repeats, “Not your obligation, just take it into consideration.” 

The chair before me is gently pushed under the table by him. That red blazer drapes his figure beautifully when he bows me farewell. I don’t let go of him until he leaves the double doors and disappears behind the wall. The moment he does, I fall back into my chair and slowly slide down until my head rests on the back of the chair. The glass ceiling stares down at me. The rain in rage falls, it tries to destroy those thin walls. 

I think about Chanhees words as I’m laying like this. My corrupt desk partner has offered me something that pulls on my heart and tangible fingers. I think about Mrs.Lee, my school uniform, green apples. Then I see Reina. The three other girls and how they hushed each other in an instant after I came in last night. One kept looking at the other and I felt as if I had a crawling creature wrapped around me. Despite sitting in the same type of clothes, they stared at me as if I was in outerwear. 

I don’t need to indulge in materialism or adhere to the outside. But I feel something calling me, my name dripping in blood painted by the devil. But I don’t run, instead I may start to adhere to him. As I wish to learn the secrets about the world, I see myself in the window reflection getting uglier. 

I went through the rest of the day feeling some sort of shame. When I walk past someone halfway or greet them in the library, I feel this urge to veil this body of mine. I won’t look anyone in the eyes when they’re talking to me. It’s like if we meet eyes, their mind will pierce right through my consciousness and open up all its ugly secrets. I ate that green apple like it would save me, but again I now stand in the restroom to wash my face. And in the broken  bits of mirror left on that wall, I see my roommates running away, escaping. 

I take a deep breath before opening that door. Behind the door, I sense their voices and faint laughs, and the second I open the door, it fades from me. My feet face my eyes and I let my hair cover whatever parts of myself I have left. The delicate noise of bare skin touching the time-worn wooden floor is the only audible thing in this room. Now, in my mind,  I’m begging with intertwined hands on my knees for them to talk like I didn’t even appear. 

So many nights I’ve spent in this room, this bed. But tonight I feel a rage-filled wind go against our glass window and obliterate it, before turning my covers and letting the moon steal my consciousness. I hug myself as if everything will go away. My lungs fight for air as my throat and body folds on itself. But I don’t get to breathe, the presence of three others makes my body rigid and stale. 

At last, as I’m laying on the side, I do finally open my eyes. In the corner of our single window, I see the moon shining the way for an endless maze of green trees. My eyes follow a single point between the leaves and I try to imagine what goes beyond that. What exists beneath the tight grown crowns and how long does it go on for? As I think of those things, I start to sit up. All the girls have their backs turned against me, their mind somewhere else. For once I feel completely secure in my choice to let out a breath and stare out that window again. The moonlight drapes over my sheets and I see it touching my hand. I look at the moon, it may want to tell me something? Take me away from this place. 

Before I get to take their hand, a timid knock comes from the door. The walls shrink and brush by my mind, and I desperately observe them to find something that can save me. Just as it opens, I fall back to my pillow and close my eyes. My hands are vertical to the mattress, but I’m praying because God is the only one to save me at this moment. 

“Y/n…” 

My name sounds incredibly light. Wrapped in silk and tied with a bow. They call it again and I have no choice but to turn my head and open my eyes. Chanhee stands in between the door and the wall. He looks at me and moves his head in a certain direction, out of this room. 

I for once don’t argue back. My bed is left with my sheets around an empty spot. When I come up to him, Chanhees hand takes my wrist and we walk with only socks through the massive corridor. Our paintings look more intimidating than when I pass to get to morning class and the chandeliers might fall at any moment and crush us both. 

I look at the place where our bodies overlap, “Where are you taking me?” 

“A place.” He says. 

“Your vagueness is dire.” I tell him. 

“We are soon there.” He looks back. May it just be the reflection from the moon? Or are his eyes shining with sincerity I have never seen before? At last, it quiets whatever thought occupies my brain. 

Chanhee stops before a door. His eyes turn at our left and then right before opening it. With his hands he insists me to go in and I do. The chandelier pierce down at us from great heights and I feel threatened by that victory painting, illustrations and golden interiors. The moon has followed me here and now paints the floor. I stand in its light. 

“Have you made up your mind?” He now asks while moving closer to me. As his figure is slightly taller than myself, he tilts his head. During the moments we have met eyes, he has been staring at me in an uncomfortable manner. But right now, his eyes tell me that he means for me to be prosperous. That this moment is distinguished from the rest. 

By averting from him and focusing on the point behind the glass and outer edge of the forest, I try to make sense of the position I am in. Somehow I’ve become a broken reflection of what I once was. I have tried to defend any last bits of beauty within me, but perfection is now gone. The arbitrary appearances of my peers tells me to lock myself away, hide in a dust filled corner and to never show my face again. I have betrayed this place. 

“Have you made up your mind?” He repeats it like it’s the final question for this lifetime. My lips are sealed and my eyes stare at his like they will give me the answers, tell me the right choice. 

I’m broken but I don’t dissolve, somehow my very existence shines under this moonlight. Thus, maybe I will give my answer. 

“I will do it.” I say without breaking our eye contact, “I want to know.” 

As if he’s doubting himself too, he looks at me for a few seconds. Take apart all the details of my face before reaching out behind his back. The silence is awfully powerful and might just suffocate the both of us. I feel observed and ashamed over our spectacle. The rulers are watching as he brings out his hand with an apple, shaded in deep red, on the verge of purple. The fruit reflects the light back and I feel like if I could touch it, I'd become just as beautiful. 

He whispers to me, like this is our last chance, “I need you to eat it.” 

“Eat it?” I whisper too as he gently takes my hand and lays it on the apple. 

Chanhee nods. 

My hand embraces it gently, because it is the only thing I am not allowed to associate myself with. The only thing bearing the hidden secrets of my life. I don’t have a mirror, but even if, I wouldn't have been able to confirm it. The deceiver in this school, an unforgivable betrayal  in the act of selfishness.

As I hesitantly stare at the apple, Chanhee brings it closer to my lips. A part of me, an outer layer, fights off whatever impulses come crashing down on me. But as the beautiful fruit is right under my nose, I bite it in pure selfish desperation. I ate it because I desperately needed to know.  

By a single bite, I might just have corrupted myself from whatever's left. The bits burn in my throat. That sensation of how my airways impends on itself. My hands grab onto my throat like they want to tear the skin open and my knees bends as there is no strength in me left. I’m being tortured on this starry night, and I look up at the ceiling, wondering if this is my last scene in this life. 

As I continuously struggle, Chanhee kneels down with me. His satin skin compresses my blue hands. As echoes of my coughing fill the withering room, Chanhee whispers in my ear and gently caresses my shoulder. I can’t make out his silent words. They become less and less coherent as the chandelier in the ceiling is just a blurry mess of crystals. The entire structure might just fall down on us and the windows might implode. The war scenes on those paintings come to life and I see death coming right at myself. My eyes close as I can’t bear to witness my death. All the things my ears take up forms into an aching noise of pure desperation and I feel my body falling six floors. 

I didn’t die, but something inside my heart has shifted. The air around me feels cold and the world might just be greater than I originally imagined. My hand is bound to the cold hard floor. It tries to reach for whatever to touch, but nothing's there to liberate my sunken structure. 

“Open your eyes Y/n.” 

A voice tells me those words and by his command, I do open my eyes for the first time. I’m still laying on that floor. That view in front of my eyes is not the ceiling, but rather the painting. My cheek pushes against the wood and I see the bitten red apple in the corner. My mouth starts to savor whatever’s left of that bite, and it’s pure sweetness. I never knew an apple could be sweet. But the clear redness and faint gloss that I remember is no longer there. The skin around the bite is lilac and folded. I remember the inside being a clear yellow, but now it’s brown like dirt. It’s crumbled up like it couldn’t accept the truth. 

My hand, still by my side, is suddenly warm again. Someone takes it gently and leans down to whisper. His voice turns my insides and I think I just discovered  butterflies. 

“We need to go.” 

My first action is turning my head slightly up from the floor. He kneels and looks down at me as if we’re in trouble. He says those words to me and a cold breeze blows past me. Changing directions of an entire forest. The shift in my heart has taken an effect on me and my heartbeat is following a rhythm I've never felt before. I look at the scene in front of me and those unrestrained walls and paintings with people desperate for victory are about to crash down on me. Lock me in, in my already closed off body. It’s crystal clear what I am feeling as the roof is about to collapse. 

“I know.” I say and take his hand. 

The sunrise paints the corridor as me and Chanhee runs through them. I look out the window from time to time. I see how the sun rises, like a clock for our escape. My legs move faster when I think about my ruler watching this scene. I’m scared and weak under those eyes. But I see Chanhees silhouette, and the force of his hand, guiding the path. In the constant cold, the only warmth keeping me alive is his hand tight locked in mine. 

He pushes open the doors and in our socks we chase escape down the stairs. I nearly start to cough when I see the sky and swallow the unbounded air. It’s like drowning in water and coughing it up when reaching land. Each and every flower we pass, I’m feeling myself getting further away from the place I once loved. I lay a bit more of my trust in Chanhees arms and turn my head. 

“Don’t look back.” He says to me breathless and desperate. 

I’ve still not turned to see St.louis and I won’t. Instead I turn my head to the forest, finally unraveling that point I have been dreaming about. As the trees cover us from the rulers and our socks disgraced in filth. I took my deepest desire like it was my last chance of survival, and now, I’m betraying my haven. 

Hand in hand, we are running just as desperate as our lungs grasps for air. We have tasted seduction and our trust in destiny is no longer in essence. I have turned my back on Paradise.

© littleroaes, written and all

A/N: I forgot! The bird mating conversation is inspired by this scene in Becoming Jane(2007). I’ve never seen the movie, but I love this scene lol

[hcuyk]

OUR INFERNO | CHAPTER ONE

SYNOPSIS ✧ although being your greatest archnemesis/rival/enemy/frenemy/whateverthefuck he was, hyunjae had always been by your side. that changed when your boyfriend was brought up, creating a newfound rift in your whateverthefuck relationship with hyunjae

PAIRING ✧ rival!hyunjae x fem!reader

GENRE ✧ high school au, enemies to fwb, angst, smut, fluff(?), humor(?) (these mfs bicker a lot), pining

WARNINGS ✧ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT — cheating, profanity, mentions of physical fight/bruises, underaged drinking, obsessive/possessive hyunjae : NSFW TAGS :  outdoor/semipublic sex, dubcon recording, spit/drool/tears, oral and fingering (fem receiving), penetration, scratching/ripping, humping, minimal praise, degradation, sub!hyunjae for 0.002 seconds, petnames (princess, good girl, babe/baby, slut)

WORD COUNT ✧ 19k

⋮≡ [ OUR INFERNO EXCLUSIVE ] @deoboyznet @flwoie @sanaxo-o — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

. . . . . . OUR INFERNO M.LIST ✩ next [ TWO ]

⋮≡ [ PERMANENT TAGLIST ] @armysantiny @stealanity @zzoguri @nyujjan @tinisprout @the-kpop-simp @sunwoosberrie @winterchimez — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

THE BOYZ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

AUTHOR'S NOTE : in honor of my three years of officially stanning the boyz on this very day, let's celebrate with my smut debut and writing comeback 😋 enjoy my loves

PART ONE: CHASING THE SPARK (THE FIRE TETRAHEDRON) — fuel, oxygen, and heat | CHAPTER ONE

“Genuine question.”

“Shoot.”

“Who the fuck does Hyunjae actually think he is?”

Unphased by your up-and-coming rage rant, Kevin resumed snacking on the protein bar he had brought with him. He tossed his free arm over the camera equipment and backpacks sitting next to him on the bench, watching you stride back and forth within one of the many hallways in the recreational center. 

“Well, he is your boss.”

“No, he’s the student executive producer,” you corrected, your legs unwavering as you kept a consistent pace to release your frustrations. Kevin shrugged and tossed one leg over the other, staying relaxed despite the hot fumes emanating from your upright and angered figure. You paused momentarily to look him in the eye. 

“Emphasis on the student,” you clarified.

“Emphasis on the executive, Y/N.”

Baffled at how he was defending your greatest archnemesis (well, more like your greatest frenemy), you ignored his rebuttal and started pacing again. Your steps slowed as you envisioned the sensations you experienced just minutes before, back when you, Kevin, and Hyunjae were at the indoor pool to report for your school’s broadcasting channel. Technically, you were the one reporting and filming while Hyunjae was the subject of interest, and Kevin was there for physical support. 

Chills latched onto your skin as you remembered what it felt like to have Hyunjae’s bare torso looming over you, his eyes peering over your shoulder to glance at your footage. While staring at the camera, his gentle, irregular breaths would continuously hit your skin. Water from the pool would trickle down his hair and into your shirt, reaching your backside. When it happened, you could barely comprehend Hyunjae’s ‘advice’ and instead focused on feeling every cold droplet travel through the crevasses created by your spine. You winced at the thought of that happening again, yet somehow you could still hear his irritating voice near your ear, telling you all the reasons why your B-roll of his lap swimming was ‘trash’ and ‘unusable.’

For a moment, you stood there in the hallway frozen, unsure of how to move, before realizing you were just reliving a moment from earlier and that Hyunjae was still in the locker room changing.

“I’m going to make a complaint,” you declared, turning back towards Kevin for his encouragement. Alternatively, you were met with the sight of your best friend completely failing to conceal his judgment and disapproval towards your suggestion.

“Against Hyunjae? You gotta be kidding, right?”

“Yes,” you answered confidently. “Wait, I mean no, I’m not kidding, but yes, against Hyunjae.”

Kevin eyed you skeptically, trying to decipher why you felt threatened enough to report someone like Hyunjae. You may not have spent all your previous years in high school with an affinity for Hyunjae, but it wasn’t like you hated him either—not in the way you truly loathed others. If that were the case, you wouldn’t spend nearly every day with him, bickering until the sun chose to set.

“Sure, maybe my B-roll was trash, I can attest to that, but that does not give his bitchass the right to not only shit on how ‘awful’ I was doing, but also yank the camera out of my hands and delete all the footage I got because they weren’t ‘perfect enough.’ What kind of psycho is that?” You glanced over at Kevin, trying once again to get him to back you up, but the most he gave was a slight nod. Everything you were spurting was half-mindedly being decoded because he had ended up placing more significance on inhaling protein. Regardless, you continued.

“And you would think, hey! As the student executive producer of a high school broadcasting team, he would understand that no! I indeed do not record half-naked people swimming in a pool, whether it be for a career or a hobby. He should also at least have the decency to not swim seven hundred miles per minute while I’m recording. Of course I’m not going to catch up, especially when he barely told me how he wanted things to be recorded? Isn’t he fucking insane for that? Not to mention all the goddamn splashing because of how fucking long his limbs are—”

“You’re explaining this like I didn’t witness the whole exchange,” Kevin grumbled.

“And you would think he knows, right? That Mr. Executive-slash-Captain-of-the-Swim-Team should either be more considerate when, A, he’s kicking water in my direction when he’s swimming or, B, station me away from the edge of the pool? Just a thought, but fuck me, I guess.”

“Well yeah, but the—”

“Also! Not to mention the camera has the fucking ability to zoom in, so why was there even a need for me to stand by the pool anyway?” You scoffed at the absurdity, almost tempted to cackle like a villain because of it. “The least he could do was tell me how to record it or find a way to adjust and compromise without occasionally soaking me with water on purpose, which I know damn well he was—”

“That’s just how-”

“We have a tripod, for god’s sake!” you exclaimed. By now, Kevin had given up on providing you with his input. He opted to rest against the wall, finishing up whatever he had left of the protein bar, and occasionally would roll his eyes.

“But even then, who the fuck wants to see him swim anyway? We’ll probably only need like…what? A minute of the footage for the B-roll? So why the hell is he treating it like it’s about to be nominated by the goddamn Oscars for Best Picture? He just loves to nitpick and control me like a fucking puppet—”

“Keep talking and you’ll potentially strain your throat,” a new voice interrupted.

You jerked around to find Hyunjae, the culprit of your rant, exiting the locker room with a small duffle bag that contained both his swim gear and his school clothes from earlier in the day. His brown hair was only halfway dry, some strands still stuck to his forehead as he approached where you were pacing.

You halted in your path and stared him down. Hyunjae immediately caught onto the mood you were in, and instead of being shocked or hurt, he grinned.

“You.” 

Your attempt at threatening him with one word made Hyunjae laugh.

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you.”

“Oh here we go again,” Kevin mumbled, tossing the wrapper of the protein bar to the side. He pulled out his phone and went on TikTok, deciding it was more worthy of his attention than listening to you two banter—something he had been experiencing for well over five years.

As a mutual friend of yours and Hyunjae’s since middle school, Kevin understood the frenemy dynamic better than either of you. Eventually, over the long years he had known you both, he learned to leave you two be. 

“What about me, though? Are you going to try and tattletale on me?” Hyunjae feigned sympathy as he gave you an exaggerated pout, tilting his head like a puppy’s. “C’mon. I’m just doing my job.”

“Sorry, but I don’t remember ‘being a dick’ being listed under the requirements for your oh-so-important position of power.” You huffed at him and crossed your arms, choosing to face elsewhere as you rooted the soles of your feet to the ground.

Hyunjae furrowed his brows, his eyes never leaving you, as he addressed the third party within the shared space.

“Kevin, was I being a dick, or is Y/N exaggerating?”

Kevin glanced up at his phone and scrunched his nose at Hyunjae in annoyance.

“Don’t even try to bring me into whatever…this mess is.”

“No, tell him,” you demanded, now looking at him. Your glare was enough to burn Kevin into ashes, but it was nothing compared to Hyunjae’s gaze piercing into your back. Knowing that he never looked away made you shiver, hating how fixated he seemed to be—and seemingly without reason too.

“Listen, I wasn’t being a dick. I was treating you the same way I treat everyone else. I’d honestly argue that you’re just narcissistic and think everything is about you when—”

“Oh wow, thank you for admitting that you’re a dick to everyone else!” You tossed your hands up for dramatic appeal as you spun back around to look at him. He scoffed, but his demeanor was quickly shadowed by a smirk that appeared on his lips, testing you with the arch of his brow.

“Oh really? Do you see anyone else complaining?”

“I’m complaining,” Kevin muttered.

“People don’t complain because they’re scared of you, Sherlock,” you retorted. At this point, Hyunjae had already caught onto your bullshit of making evidence up, and it was why this exchange ended up lasting for as long as it did. Nevertheless, his ego continued to build the more you spoke.

“You’re not scared of me?”

And you keep falling for the bait.

“Why should I? You’re nothing.” You approached him and pressed a finger into his chest, taunting him as you stared straight into his eyes.

Suddenly a competition seemed to have materialized because now you both were locking eyes, too stubborn to look away. 

“One day you’ll wake up and realize your position doesn’t mean shit. You take it too seriously and make everyone’s job your job when this should be a learning experience for the rest of us.”

“And who exactly is ‘us,’ babe?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t call me that–”

“And it’s also starting to sound like jealousy to me.” Hyunjae’s eyes finally shifted, but instead of looking away from you like you initially wanted him to, you trailed his line of sight down to your lips. He eyed them shamelessly—technically making you win the unspoken eye contact competition, but at what cost? “I won’t believe you until I receive firm evidence and testimonies from the other students in the club, then maybe I’ll consider your concerns. Deal?”

What you despised most was how well Hyunjae knew and provoked you to get under your skin. He was a raging flame, making your blood boil from both irritation and excitement. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but after nearly six years of banter with Hyunjae, you knew damn well you enjoyed every second of it. It was like a nonstop competition, and you were always on the edge of winning.

Maybe it was also because you were so used to him constantly being above you. He was the president of the student council, the swim team’s captain, and specifically the one who snatched the executive position away from you in the broadcasting team, yet somehow you were still able to compete at his level of arrogance and egotism. 

Even though you may never be able to top him in the foreseeable future, you at least knew how to match his fury—his fire, with your own.

“You’re pathetic.” You took a few steps back to gain some distance while his eyes flickered back up to yours. He bit his lip playfully, his smile only growing even wider.

“Woah, Y/N. Exposing my degradation kink so soon?”

“I-...you- w-what?!” you sputtered, your jaw falling slack as Kevin’s head snapped up, staring at the two of you in disgust.

“Get a room—!”

“I’m going to make sure you get degraded from your position, you freak!”

“Not exactly how that word works, princess, but I’m glad you’re at least passionate.” His cooing made you want to slap the living shit out of him, your eyes protruding from their sockets are you glared. 

“Are you fucking bricked up or something right now—?”

“Hey guys,” a woman’s voice called out. Your heads turned to look at the end of the hallway, catching one of the recreational center’s workers waving in your general direction. She pressed her lips together and smiled, attempting to be as professional and understanding as possible. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is it okay if you guys turn it down a notch?”

You and Hyunjae both nodded and whispered apologies, feeling like kids who just got scolded for shoving paintbrushes down the drain. Fortunately, the worker’s smile radiated genuine warmth and consideration, providing you some sort of reassurance that you guys weren’t too much of a disturbance (even though you guys totally were).

“You two are the most childish fuckers I know,” Kevin deadpanned, finally shoving his phone away as he switched between looking at you and the man by your side. His eyebrows bunched up.

“And apparently horny too.”

“I would move across the country if it meant I never had to see him again,” you grumbled, striding back to the pile of equipment to pick up your backpack and the bag with all your reporting necessities (boring script, stationary, and a couple of notebooks shared with all the broadcasting students to collect notes and inspiration in). 

“Hello? I’m still here.”

“Look at that. He already misses me.”

“I’m going to hurl,” Kevin unnecessarily announced, and Hyunjae’s face soured.

“Ew.”

“Exactly. That’s how you two make me feel whenever you guys are together.” Kevin got up on his feet and grabbed the wrapper to shove into one of his pockets (no littering, kids) before outstretching his limbs dramatically. 

“I swear I developed back pain from always listening to you guys bicker.”

“Or, hot take,” Hyunjae interjected, “maybe it’s because you’re always sitting with your back arching forward like it belongs in the Arches National Park–”

“Yeah yeah, shut the fuck up.” Kevin waved him off with his hand and rolled his eyes. “I came here to help carry stuff, not listen to your bullshit.”

He picked up the bag that contained the camera and passed it to Hyunjae. He offered to hold one more thing, but with only his backpack and the tripod left, Kevin didn’t see much need for his friend’s assistance. 

Kevin then faced you, his face stern and rid of emotion.

“You too, Y/N,” he stated seriously. “None of this ‘he said this,’ ‘he said that,’ ‘please fuck me’ bullshit from you either.”

You gaped at him, arms wrapped tightly around the crew’s bag.

“Now why the hell do you think—”

“Zip it.”

Without giving you much of an opportunity to continue, Kevin sped off in front of you, ready to leave the building. You couldn’t even look at Hyunjae as heat rushed to your cheeks, struggling to trail after Kevin’s speedy steps.

Despite carrying heavier items, Hyunjae caught up to you with ease. You wanted nothing more than for Hyunjae’s feet to either slow down or speed up tremendously, but of course he purposely chose to walk by your side, attached to you by the hip.

“He sees it,” Hyunjae sing-songed. “Everyone sees it.”

“Sees what?” you snorted, oblivious to what he was indicating.

“That you want me,” he replied nonchalantly.

The moment you two stepped outside the doors of the center, you stopped to face him, trying to confirm what exactly he was implying.

“You can’t be serious.”

Hyunjae, who also stopped with your steps, shrugged.

“You’re the one in denial.”

Realizing that he was serious, you felt every muscle in your body tense up.

“Hyunjae,” you stated firmly. “I have a boyfriend, remember?”

Instead of receiving something witty from Hyunjae like normal, his relaxed facial features suddenly scrambled into one that expressed remote shock. His lips were slightly parted, eyes searching yours for any hint that indicated you were lying or messing around with him, but you were serious.

The aggressive playfulness from earlier had evaporated faster than boiling water, and you watched as he became stilled. Your heart started pounding, anxiety creeping up within you due to not being able to read Hyunjae like you normally do.

“Since when?” he asked. His voice was quiet, his tone firmer, and by now, Kevin was already by his car, too far from the two of you to understand what was going on. Hell, even you could barely understand what was happening.

“Earth to Hyunjae?” you joked, nervously laughing in an attempt to eliminate the newfound tension looming in the atmosphere. “It’s always been Jiwoong, remember?”

For a moment, Hyunjae could feel his mouth drying up. All his thoughts were held captive in his throat, and his lips remained parted as if they weren’t meant to collide at all. He stared at you like you had just teleported in front of him.

“Y/N,” he stated calmly, “he cheated on you.”

Your initial response was to get defensive, claiming that you already knew that because hell, it was your relationship, but then your brain acknowledged the true elephant in the conversation.

“How-...how the hell do you know about that?”

“I- You know word just-…That doesn’t matter. What matters is why in the world—”

“It was a mistake, okay?”

“A mistake?” As Hyunjae’s brows raised, so did his tone. “You know, people—decent people, don’t make mistakes like that.” 

Seeing how Hyunjae was gritting his teeth, how his eyes were locked on yours, built up a foreign frustration within you. Something about the way Hyunjae was behaving felt like he was trying to control you. 

All the rage from before had now returned, yet this time, there was no more leniency from you—not when Hyunjae was being more condescending than he had ever been.

“You know nothing, Hyunjae, so frankly, I really don’t care about what you think about my relationship with my boy-”

“You’re still with him??”

“Look,” you snapped. “Just because you have the luxury of crushing my hopes and dreams on a daily basis, it does not give you the right to dictate what’s wrong or right about my love life and my decisions. Understood?”

And just like how you always are, Hyunjae refused to shut up.

“How is it dictating when it’s common sense to dump a shitty person?” He dropped the bags onto the ground, and not once did he look away from you. “He’s never treated you well either, and you know that—”

“It’s not your decision to make,” you repeated. You could feel the three key elements of creating a fire stir up within you. You had the fuel, the oxygen, and the heat, and Hyunjae was the chemical chain reaction that would set it off. “How dense can you fucking be to not back down?”

“He cheated on you,” he reasserted, and there was a rage in his eyes that you had never once encountered. “He’s done so many shitty things, and he hasn’t changed–”

“Again, none of your fucking business–”

“And I’m pretty sure I saw—”

“I am not going to repeat myself-”

“Can’t you just listen to what I-”

“Drop it.” You were seconds away from yelling at him, ready to unleash all your anger because never once has someone threatened your love life—Jiwoong, the man you considered your soulmate. Your flame had officially engulfed his, and all Hyunjae could do was stare at you in disbelief and disappointment.

Turning to look away, you gazed up into the sky and scoffed, not understanding why tears had begun to pool up in your eyes. At the end of the day, Hyunjae meant nothing to you—you didn’t even consider him a friend.

After moments of experiencing what it was like to be suffocated by a tension so unbearable, you eventually found a way to ground yourself. 

“I can’t blame him, you know,” you whispered, using the back of your hand to wipe away your tears. “We were angry. He just–...he needed an outlet, and at that time, that outlet happened to not be me, okay?”

Hyunjae stared at you, his mouth desperate to say something, anything, to make you see what he sees—a relationship that isn’t meant to be. That you didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Maybe you were no more than an acquaintance to him, but he knew you have always deserved better. 

“He isn’t someone worth fighting for.”

“And that’s none of your business,” you scowled.

“It isn’t right—”

“Stay in your fucking lane, Jae.”

Hyunjae clamped his mouth shut, and the sight of you completely breaking down tore him apart. Possibly it was all the years you spent together growing up, constantly arguing, yet he knew he was always one to look out for you.

You sucked in a cheek, gnawing at it as your chest urged for you to forgive him, to apologize for lashing out without much notice, but in the end, you prioritized your pride over him.

Not only was Hyunjae’s persistence a stab to your heart, but you suspected that Kevin was the one who told him. By spilling your secrets, it was as if Kevin saw the knife that impaled you and yanked it out of your chest, causing you to bleed to your death.

“I’m done with this conversation,” you muttered, dropping the bag in your arms to the ground by his feet. Your plans had changed to you walking home alone, wanting nothing to do with the other two boys for the next hour or so.

When you turned around to walk away, you knew Hyunjae was going to try and say something. You knew him best whenever he was at his worst, so you spun around to face him for the last time that day to cut him off.

“Never fucking cross that line with me again, got it?”

And with that, you left. 

//

Kevin apologized to you the morning after.

He normally drove you to school, and you debated getting into his car when he showed up. Thankfully you chose to do otherwise because the second you stepped inside, Kevin was apologizing profusely. He talked about how anxious he was all night when Hyunjae told him what happened, and he wouldn’t have known what to do if you didn’t forgive him. Obviously you did, and the rest of the car ride was spent with him explaining his side of the story.

According to Kevin, he only told Hyunjae about how you got cheated on because it seemed like Hyunjae already knew. As Kevin recalled the whole scene, you two assessed the signs, such as how Hyunjae didn’t provide any sort of reaction when Kevin dropped the news. In fact, it had seemed like Hyunjae had brought it up to Kevin instead.

Regardless, it became the last of your worries because all that mattered was that you were back to being on good terms with your best friend.

But avoiding Hyunjae felt like lighting a match in the rain. 

It was your agonizing reality for the next two months, and although you could argue that you had gotten closer to your boyfriend during the supposed ‘Hyunjae Drought,’ you were still plagued with him being everywhere around you.

He was in all your classes, and you never truly processed the extent of how involved Hyunjae had always been throughout high school with you. You weren’t on the swim team, but you were stuck with him during meetings for both the broadcasting team and student council. 

Yet it all felt so different.

Unless he was called on, Hyunjae would talk much less unprovoked and would never look at you during meetings. When he would address the entire team, he would glance at you for a split second before looking elsewhere, no longer watching you like a hawk.

You had also gotten quieter because without Hyunjae to banter with, you recognized that you barely had friends in any of those classes either. 

There was no longer a fight between your flames, and you two kept as much distance as possible. You were thankful that there hadn’t been an instance that interrupted that, such as being forced to record more B-roll with him, and you could only hope that the rest of your senior year would remain the same. 

Then you would never have to see him in college.

Now you were back to being the mediocre student that faded into the background. People knew your name at best, but none have ever tried to become your friend aside from Kevin. No matter how involved you tried to get, the closest you were to anyone was a classmate. 

Hyunjae had always overshadowed you too, and for the first time in years, you were detached from his fumes—yet somehow, some way, the smoke from his fire would remain in your lungs, continuing to suffocate you even more than it had before. It didn’t give you that breath of fresh air of new friends or a better life; instead, it helped you realize that you didn’t matter. It was a miracle that you even scored Jiwoong as your boyfriend.

But then that begged the question: why did Hyunjae bother spending his time ridiculing you?

From the very beginning, you had always meant something to him, and you couldn’t pinpoint how or why. When there was no competition in academics, he treated it as if there was. Every time you ranted, he would listen, whether it be about him or something else. Even when you talked about how your chicken from the cafeteria was burnt, he would give you his own before calling you stupid for not noticing until you sat down.

He never shrugged you off like you were nothing or shut you down because your emotions were invalid. He entertained you each time with ease, and most importantly, he knew when to respect your boundaries. Hyunjae was probably the most mindful person you knew and could often tell when you were distressed or needed another form of reaction from him.

He knew when to stop.

Yet when it came to the one instance involving Jiwoong, he crossed the line multiple times. Why?

“Hyunjae isn’t here today.”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t show up for a single class.”

Kevin watched you play with your food with a fork, rolling the cold, barely spherical peas around and into the stale rice.

“That’s not like him,” he replied.

“Yeah.”

“I wonder why.”

“I wonder too.” 

After the driest possible conversation in existence, you sighed and dropped your fork into your tray.

“I need to stop forgetting to pack myself lunch. This shit makes me lose my appetite, I swear. We should call the police and tell them the food they’re serving is illegal and a disgrace to this country.” 

“Keep it away before I lose my appetite too.” 

You didn’t react nor respond to what Kevin said, letting the conversation rot as you pouted at your food. The cafeteria was unusually louder today, making it easier to space out into thought.

Kevin took out his sandwich with a wide grin and started eating, grateful he never had to deal with what the school was feeding thanks to his mom, but eventually his eyes shifted over to you. You were unmoving with your gaze locked onto an empty spot on the table, so after moments of debating between asking you what’s wrong and ignoring you to devour his lunch, he opted to set his sandwich aside and stared straight at you.

“Why are you thinking about him?”

That was enough to garner your attention, your head snapping up to stare at your best friend like he was the craziest person you knew for mentioning Hyunjae, much less suggesting that your mind was wrapped around him.

“What?”

“Hyunjae. With his perfect attendance, a day without him should be a blessing, yet you brought up how he didn’t show up today and then moped harder than anyone I’ve ever seen mope. You should be over the moon, dancing on the tables and stealing people’s food, not-...” Kevin waved a finger at you, “whatever this is. You seem out of it.”

“Well it’s not because of Hyunjae, I’ll tell you that,” you snorted. Your eyes fell back down to your tray, and the more you looked at it, the more nauseous you got. You scrunched your nose. “If anything, it’s probably because of this shit food.”

Kevin rolled his eyes before tearing his sandwich into halves. You perked at the sight and ogled the half Kevin taunted you with. You were about to thank him and take it into your possession before Kevin jerked back his arm, making you whine.

“Throw away your food, then I’ll give you it.”

“Fine,” you grumbled. As Kevin returned to his delicious, most scrumptious, packed lunch you had ever seen, you picked up your tray and walked it to the nearest trash can. As you dropped the whole thing inside, you heard your name being called.

“Y/N!”

You whipped around to check to see who it was and smiled at the sight of Eunseo waving at you. You wouldn’t consider her a good friend, but you knew her well enough since she was the vice president of the student council.

She ran over to you with a stack of paper in her arms, relieved to have caught you. 

“Y/N, hi! I’m so glad I found you. I was scared I wouldn’t because of how packed it is.”

She flashed you her usual glowing smile, and you noticed that she was a bit more giddy than usual, making you question why she was choosing to talk to you in the first place. All your conversations normally took place before, during, and after student council meetings, so this was slightly out of character.

“What’s up?” you asked. As you looked at her, you noticed how her outfit was slightly more put together than it normally was. She had on a cute top that suited her chest perfectly and a skirt that you had never seen her wear. 

“Your outfit’s really cute today.”

“Really?!” Her bright demeanor then faded into concern. “Wait, is it too noticeable or out of the blue? Is it bad?”

“No, no. Not at all!” you reassured. “It’s just the right amount of perfect.”

“Great! God, that means the world coming from you. It’s because!...” She stopped to glance around, making sure that no one was eavesdropping, before taking a step closer to whisper. “It’s because I was finally asked out on a date by my crush!”

She could barely contain her excitement, holding back a squeal with her bottom lip latched between her teeth. Her sunshine-like energy made you grin.

“That’s great! I’m glad you’re making progress.” Your eyebrows pinched as you tried to recall the last time Eunseo had updated you about her crush. “You’ve been pining after him for so long—whoever ‘him’ is, anyway.”

The question of who Eunseo liked had always gone unanswered. She never told anyone, not even the ones who knew her best, but she loved gushing about her mystery crush to everyone she knew. All people really knew, you included, was how down bad she was.

A part of you wondered if it was someone you knew—someone pretty like Juyeon or well-known like…Hyunjae.

“Oh, I wish I could tell you, and maybe I will if things go really well and we become official!” She squealed and hopped in her spot, unable to resist giving you a half-hug with her free arm. “This is so exciting, Y/N!”

“I’m really happy for you.” Your smile was genuine until you thought about why she was looking for you, starting to doubt that she called you over just so she could tell you about her date. 

“I’ll let you know how it goes, swear. But! That aside, I also have something for you.”

You knew it.

Your brows raised, and when you didn’t catch on, she gestured to the papers in her arms with guilt.

“I know this is kind of a dick move, and I’m really really sorry, but I promised to put up fliers for prom today. My date is right after my last class.” Her frown had deepened, and for a split second, you found yourself sympathizing with her because who wanted to let down such a cheerful personality, especially when this was life-changing for her?

“So you want me to do it?”

“Exactly! Please, that would be great. It shouldn’t take too long, too.”

You thought about how you would have to give up an evening of playing on your switch or extra time to study for an upcoming exam, but you knew it was your duty as secretary to help out whenever needed.

Not to mention that it would also make you a decent friend not to hold Eunseo back from her soon-to-be love life despite her poor date planning. If you were in her shoes, you would have wanted her to do the same for you too.

“Sure,” you accepted. “Why not?”

“You’re the best, seriously!” She handed you the fliers as she began to fill you in on the extra details.

“I already told Mr. Barajas that I wasn’t feeling well and that you were going to do it, so he said it all worked out and to not worry about it,” she rambled, happy to give the extra weight (both literally and metaphorically) to you. “I just printed these out, so everything should be perfect to go. Oh, and don’t worry about any extras! Just set them on Barajas’s desk when you’re finished. Hyunjae will also be in 142 with tape ready for you.”

The mention of the forbidden name nearly made every cell in your body halt. 

“What?”

Eunseo tilted her head at you, confused, before finally realizing.

“Oh crap, I forgot! I’m so sorry, I really did forget you guys weren’t on good terms. I hope it’s okay that he’s helping you out. I mean, he’s supposed to, but it was meant for him and me to do it together, not you two, so…God, I’m really sorry Y/N.”

Before you could even react to the newfound information, she continued.

“I really have to go now. Thank you again! I promise I’ll make it up to you!” And with her rosy pink cheeks and a stunning shade of red on her lips, she basically skipped away and waved goodbye to you with a smile, so you reciprocated it with an awkward one of your own. 

When she turned her back, your smile immediately dropped and you sighed heavily.

“Have fun on your date,” you mumbled, your eyes falling to fliers in your arms. As you skimmed the one on top, you noticed it was to promote going to prom while also including a big QR code to vote for who should be your school’s prom king and queen. You expected it since it was the last meeting’s topic of discussion, but what you weren’t aware of was who were listed as nominees.

There were eight names listed under ‘Prom Court,’ and while you expected Hyunjae’s, Eunseo’s, and your boyfriend’s names on it, your jaw nearly hit the ground at the sight of your own. 

//

With every passing class period, your anxiety would kick up a notch.

The dread of talking to the face you had been avoiding for two months engulfed you, and it caused you to develop the urge to ditch your current class to go hunt for Jacob, the student council’s historian. You wanted nothing more than to dump the stack of fliers into his arms, and knowing Jacob, he wouldn’t ask any questions. Hell, you were certain that if you asked him nicely, he would do it for you because of how naturally sweet and endearing he was.

But the guilt of ditching your secretary duties kept picking at your skin, and besides, all you had to do was treat Hyunjae like a colleague. That should be easy, right?

As you suffered through the last few minutes of class and your teacher’s incessant ramblings about the upcoming exam, your thoughts drifted over to what would happen the moment you stepped into room 142.

Hyunjae hadn’t shown up to a single class all day, yet he was expected to set up fliers after school. As your thoughts snowballed, you arrived at the baseless conclusion that maybe Eunseo wasn’t aware that Hyunjae was absent today, therefore someone else (like Jacob) would take over. 

Suddenly, your back had straightened with feigned interest in your teacher’s last few words. Something about Jacob being there instead of Hyunjae had excited you; it felt like you were free and that the universe was listening to your prayers. The gamble of seeing whether it would be Hyunjae or Jacob (or literally anyone else) had your right leg bouncing, eyes on the clock, and when the bell rang, you shot up from your seat, backpack over your shoulders and fliers in your arms, before dashing out of the classroom.

You sped down the hallway to 142, Mrs. Zhang’s room for Chemistry, bug-eyed, before having your delusions crushed at the sight of Hyunjae’s stupidly large height leaning against one of the counters. Your feet stood glued to the ground by the doorway, your eyes locked onto him. 

Covered from head to toe in sweats, Hyunjae was immersed in whatever was on his phone, scrolling through something as his brown curls peeked out from inside his hood. Without any hint of him acknowledging your presence, your shattered hopes slowly began to rebuild.

Maybe if you were quiet enough, you could sneak out with the tape and do everything on your own, avoiding him at all. Actually, scratch that. You didn’t even need the tape. All you had to do was go to another teacher’s room, steal their tape for half an hour, and then return it with ease.

The plan was effortless, and you mentally smacked your forehead for not thinking of it earlier. Right as you were about to execute it, your backpack slammed against the doorframe as you turned on your heels. 

“Nice try.”

You groaned out of embarrassment (and slight pain) and forced yourself to turn around. Hyunjae’s phone was now face down on the counter, and his arms were crossed over his abdomen. His face remained stoic as his eyes met yours, wielding a tension you didn’t recognize.

Now that you could properly look at him, you noticed a few details that you hadn’t before, such as the small tear on his lower lip and the bandaid on his cheekbone. If you looked long enough, you could catch light patches of purple across his skin, and the sight hindered all your thoughts, your brain too occupied with piecing together how he ended up like this. 

“What happened?” you blurted, your gaze shooting up from his lips to his eyes.

Hyunjae staggered at your suddenty, but he managed to keep himself stilled, his brows pinching. 

“What do you mean?”

Even if Hyunjae didn’t mean to, his question became an invitation for your unfiltered thoughts to spill out of your mouth.

“You didn’t show up for any of our classes today,” you began, “but now you’re here? For some stupid fliers? You’re barely dressed properly like you normally are, your hair isn’t straightened, you look pale, Jae, and what’s up with the bruises or the bandaid on your cheek–”

“Are you seriously psychoanalyzing me?” he asked with a scoff. There was no humor in his tone. Instead, it looked as if he was irritated, perhaps even more than you were. 

Hyunjae barely met your eyes, and his arms closed himself off from you. 

“What–?”

“You’re evaluating me like I’m some sort of lab project, Y/N.”

“No, no I’m not,” you rejected. “I’m just saying things are a little off.” You kept your eyes firm on his, even as he pushed himself off the counter with his phone and made his way over to you. “And you know, you really can’t blame me for being somewhat worried when one, you don’t show up, and two, you look like a whole mess—”

“Just hand over the fliers—” he interrupted, gritting his teeth as he outstretched his arm in your direction. You dodged him by turning your body 180 degrees and stood your ground.

“What happened?” you repeated, this time more firmly.

Hyunjae looked at you, a blank expression on his face, before turning back around to grab the roll of tape left on the teacher’s desk. When he returned, he shoved it into your arms while simultaneously stealing half the stack. You protested with an exclaimed ‘Hey!’ yet he didn’t bat an eye and skimmed over the contents of the flier on top.

Bothered by his lack of response, you frowned and made sure to block the doorway, refusing to let him leave until you received answers.

“Why are you acting like this? Pretending that I’m not even—”

“I’ll do upstairs, you do downstairs,” he muttered.

“Did you get into a fight? Why weren’t you here today? Why are you here now—”

“You’d think you’d know,” he finally answered, pushing past you like you weighed none less than a feather.

Your brain had fully malfunctioned at that point, unable to decipher what he meant as Hyunjae walked off to the nearest staircase. As his footsteps echoed down the hall, you thought about what he was implying yet came to no resolution. Did he assume that you were caught up in your school’s latest gossip? Or that you were the main admin for his biggest fan page on Instagram?

The idea made you snort, and you scowled bitterly at his childish attitude. It wasn’t like you were a complete stranger intruding on his personal life—hell, you felt like you deserved an explanation because of how you were forced to do this with him. 

As you stormed off past the remaining lingering students to the nearest bulletin board, you questioned how you were going to do this on your own. 

You had put up fliers countless times in the past few years yet never alone. Luckily, you had a general idea of where the fliers should go when it came to the school’s hallways, but as you approached your first destination, you struggled with ripping off pieces of tape while holding the stack at the same time. It would’ve been easier with a partner by your side, one who either did the tape ripping or placing of the fliers, but you weren’t desperate enough to fall into the role of a helpless princess in need of her pretty (useless) prince. 

After some trial and error, you found a method that consisted of setting the stack on the ground occasionally so you could rip off pieces of tape. Then you would slap said pieces of tape onto your wrist, having them readily available as you put up a few fliers at a time.

Although slightly time-consuming, it was working well and kept you at a steady pace until you heard crashing footsteps behind you from afar. Without paying any mind to it, you bit back your curiosity in order to focus on the wall in front of you, but then you made the mistake of taking a step back, bumping into the person who was sprinting. 

You lost your balance and fell forward before catching yourself shortly after. However, the fliers had already flown out of your arms, scattering across and down the long hallway.

Ready to curse out the offender for running down the hallway, you were surprised when you saw that it was Eunseo behind you, pouring out apologies while a loopy grin was smacked onto her face.

You steadied your anger and told her it was okay, getting down onto your knees to collect all the fliers. Her ‘sorry’s could only go so far with her smeared lipstick, a dazed gaze, and her hair holding the mold to someone else’s (presumably her crush’s) hands in them, but you still excused her, knowing that she was over the moon right now.

“It’s okay, Eunseo, I promise.” You forced out a chuckle as you crawled to scavenge for the ones that flew a few feet away.

“I really didn’t mean to,” she pouted, but it was shortly followed up with bubbly giggles. “God, Y/N, can you believe this? Oh, it’s going so well! I think I love him, I do.”

“Good for you,” you grumbled, hoping that she didn’t hear it as you continued to move down the hallway, hating how far the fliers had escaped from you. You also hated how she just stood there without intent on helping you at all. 

“I have to really go now. Got volleyball practice soon, but I think I’m seeing him tomorrow too!” She waved you goodbye.

And just like that, she continued running off. 

You stared at how you were only able to collect half the mess, hating how Eunseo had somehow managed to delay you even further from being in the comfort of your bed. You were also salty at how her date was taking place at the school, wishing she could’ve dragged him around while she taped stuff up before getting dick-downed of some sort.

Deciding that she and her business weren’t worth your time, you continued to pick everything up as quickly as you could, wanting nothing more than to go home.

When you finally finished collecting every last flier, you were prepared to get back into the groove of things before feeling your phone vibrate in the side pocket of your backpack. Wondering if it was something important, you took it out and beamed at the idea of it being a new message from Jiwoong.

Dating him felt like falling in love with him all over again whenever he texted. Your heart would pound in your chest when you thought about him and explode whenever he gave you his attention and time. You were addicted to him, especially knowing that he was yours after liking him since middle school.

So to say you were disappointed was far worse than an understatement. It was from a number you hadn’t saved yet always recognized and undoubtedly remembered by heart.

Of course it was Hyunjae.

You had Hyunjae’s phone number due to previous class projects and group chats, but you had never once saved it because you thought he was undeserving of being a contact in your phone. Nonetheless, with how the years have passed and how much his number infiltrates every group chat you were in, it was only fair that your brain had unintentionally memorized all ten digits.

The message he sent consisted of him saying that he was done with the fliers, and you rolled your eyes. Even after the way he treated you earlier, he still chose to let you know and brag about how fast he was. 

You shoved your phone away vigorously, ready to return to your slapping-fliers-on-walls duty, before perking at the sound of footsteps behind you once more.

Automatically assuming it was Eunseo or another student staying after for a club or sport, you were stunned when you heard his voice. 

“You’re not even halfway yet?”

In no fucking universe are you turning around; not for him.

“Go gloat somewhere else,” you snapped. The next flier you taped up was nearly slammed onto the wall, but Hyunjae was left unphased by your sudden outburst. He stood next to you and remained quiet, even when you left to place the next flier a few feet away on the opposite wall.

When he didn’t follow, you sighed out of relief, yet somehow you couldn’t help but peek at him, eyeing his hands that were tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. He was staring straight at the lopsided flier you had put up, and when you decided you had enough of peering at him, he was back by your side.

 “What are you doing?” you grumbled. He was the one who pushed you away, yet now here he was, glued to your side like how he was two months ago. 

“You’re taking too long.”

“I had a mishap,” you explained, “but that’s none of your concern.” The lines on your forehead bunched up, and you waved him off, bending down to place the stack on the ground. Figuring it wasn’t weird at all, you continued your method of ripping off pieces of tape and slapping it onto your wrist.

And Hyunjae was totally judging.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Just go home.”

Despite being on the ground and sitting on your heels, you could physically feel the heat on the back of your head due to his eyes burning a hole into your skull, and for a split second, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I can do it myself,” you explained. 

“What are you even doing?” 

“Can you just go?” You picked up the stack once again as you rose to your feet, doing your best to avoid whatever look was on Hyunjae’s face. He was probably stifling a laugh or keeping his expression smug, but when you did cave and peek, his face was still solemn, his eyes on your wrist with concern.

“You’re struggling.”

“Thank you for your observation, Mr. Obvious,” you retorted.

“Let me do it.”

Taken aback, you whipped your head over to his direction.

“You’re kidding.”

“You don’t even want to be here,” he reasoned through gritted teeth. “Just go, and you can thank me later.”

“Thank you?!” Appalled at his audacity, you couldn’t help but laugh out of disbelief. “Seriously, Hyunjae? You want me to thank you for stealing my job? Again? You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Because you can’t take any criticism ever, or in this case, any form of help, so just let me do it.”

Hyunjae was eerily calm about the whole ordeal, his energy far from matching yours.

“I do take help,” you refuted. “I just don’t take yours, and neither do I need it, too.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn.” And within a blink of an eye, he had managed to snatch the stack of fliers from you. 

“Hey!” you yelled, feeling as if it was deja vu from earlier (you really needed to step up your defense), and reached out to take them back, but he was quick to turn his body, shielding them from you.

“Give me the tape and go,” he urged, emotionless. The Hyunjae in front of you now was someone you truly didn’t recognize because the Hyunjae you knew would have made fun of you and held the fliers above your head, teasing you for being so weak.

Yet he stood still, creating a barrier between you and the duty that was forced upon you. You didn’t want to be here anyway, yet you were so insistent on making sure Hyunjae wasn’t stealing your work again. You weren’t incapable, and you hated how he always managed to be faster.

Even now, he was miles away from being playful with you, and yet he still had a way to shove it in your face.

“Hyunjae, I swear—”

“Give me the tape, and you can run off to your little boyfriend waiting for you by the entrance.” 

Your lips parted at his words, eyes wide as you worked to comprehend his words. You questioned how he knew about Jiwoong’s whereabouts, how he knew that Jiwoong was waiting and that you didn’t, but knowing that he was serious, you reluctantly gave up and dropped the roll of tape on the ground, forcing him to pick it up. 

You were sick of constantly arguing with him, and even if he was lying about Jiwoong, at least you would be away from Hyunjae. There was no point in fighting for your dignity anymore, not when Hyunjae’s narcissism was insufferable.

By walking away with heavy and quick strides, you hoped he felt humiliated by how poorly he was treating you—how he had always treated you like this.

As much as you wanted it to be true, you hoped Hyunjae was lying just so you had more evidence against his self-absorbed and shitty personality, but alas, you found Jiwoong standing precisely where Hyunjae said he was.

Regardless, all stress and frustrations had lifted from your being, and you called out to your boyfriend with a smile that would make your cheeks ache in minutes. 

“Woong!” You waved your hands with a small bounce in your steps as you rushed over to him.

Your boyfriend’s head shot up, surprised to see you. His utter shock quickly switches to one of sheer happiness, tucking his device away before opening his arms for you.

“Hey, baby!”

You tossed yourself into his embrace, hugging him tight after pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“What are you doing here?” With your face in his neck, your voice came out muffled, and it made Jiwoong laugh.

“Had to stay after to discuss my grades with a teacher, then I decided to stay back a bit for you.” He cooed and kissed the top of your head, holding you incredibly close. When you pulled back, his hands had moved from behind your backpack to your hips instead, holding them as you stared up at him.

“You were waiting for me?” you asked, eyes wide with stars in them.

“Of course I was, baby.” 

You were radiating, feeling happier than ever. The last time you saw Jiwoong was a week ago, and with your clashing schedules, you two very rarely get the opportunity to make plans. Your hands rested atop his shoulders, and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you smiled.

But then it fell.

Something felt off.

//

If someone were to inquire Hyunjae about who his heart belonged to, your name would be his answer—whether he intended to say it or not. 

Hyunjae had always been considered the school’s favorite. His intelligence may not be up to par with others, but his authority was what made him a prominent member of your high school. Some blame it on his looks, but most were aware enough to know that wasn’t the case.

Hyunjae knew how to think on his feet, and his problem-solving skills outwitted everyone within his grade level. Reaching tranquillity had never been an issue for him, allowing him to be levelheaded while making decisions. He emitted an aura that made classmates truly listen to him and the ideas he shared, and overall, it made him a great contender to lead every group and organization he was in. 

Additionally, Hyunjae’s heart was what won over most people. His lack of vulnerability seemed to be his only flaw, but it was an obstacle he could overlook when it came to empathizing with others. By actively being involved in the community through volunteering and holding fundraisers, everyone could recognize Hyunjae’s devotion to hope for humanity. 

All these traits were what led Hyunjae up onto the pedestal and the public eye, a household name for all families in the district. Titles and awards naturally gravitated towards him throughout the years, resulting in him winning the vote as president of your school’s student council and enough scholarships to provide him a full ride at most universities.

It was safe to say that competition against Lee Hyunjae was sparse, and you were no different. 

Your grades would teeter around his standard, hence how you two collectively ended up in the same classes, but aside from that, you had nothing else that could compare to what he was capable of.

Except for one thing; your fury.

There was an inferno inside you at all times, and instead of your body shielding off your heart with steel, people around you would come to find out that your heart was the reason for that large blaze of fire, possessing a passion unlike any other. 

Hyunjae had never once seen a peer with as much fight as you. It was a trait only you encapsulated, one that you weren’t afraid to express. You stood up for yourself and your beliefs, and it was easy to pick fights with him when he had been troubling you from the very moment you two were assigned to sit next to each other in seventh-grade algebra. 

Hyunjae yearned for you ever since, his only want being your attention. You gave him the drive to succeed in high school and thrive in his senior year, and he was positive that he wouldn’t be doing this well without a reason to show off in front of you. He wanted your praise, your acknowledgment, but he loved the chase the most. 

Unfortunately, that was the exact reason he ended up here.

The chase was what made him fall for every part of you, wanting nothing more than your lips on his and the ability to have you by his side at all times, but it was also what landed you with your current boyfriend.

It was like his life was a video game with God giving him the hardest difficulty setting by making sure you were obsessed with someone undeserving of all that he wanted. There wasn’t even a chance of you two possibly being friends in your eyes. Meanwhile, Hyunjae would argue that you two had more chemistry than any other couple in your class, but that hope was crushed, shredded, and stomped on when he found out you still devoted your love to Jiwoong.

Regardless, it didn’t change who you were as a person. Your heart was still just as large and beautiful, and your drive to succeed hadn’t lessened. The bickering never faltered, and it wasn’t like Hyunjae was opposed whenever you expressed disgust at the thought of him being turned on because of you (and that was because he found the idea of you thinking about him hot—yes, his expectations were that low). 

So it was why after two months of almost zero to no contact, you treating him as if those months didn’t exist created the largest dilemma he had ever faced. He spent the next week thinking about your intentions and why you seemed to care so much, specifically right after when Hyunjae had willed himself to believe that he meant jackshit to you. You effortlessly toyed with his heart, leaving him in everlasting misery, while you seemed to do completely fine.

What was a typical and ideal lifestyle for you was a nightmare and tormenting hellhole for Hyunjae. He didn’t just crave the warmth and comfort from your undying flames.

He wanted to burn.

Insanity engulfed him on the days spent without you, leaving him to wonder why you had to make things extensively worse by pointing out his absence or how he had put less effort into his hair. Why did it seem like the concern you expressed was genuine? Why pretend that you cared for him as much as he cared for you?

He was going insane—so insane that he drove to a college party with three other friends in his sedan on a Wednesday night. 

It was being held by a fraternity he and his friends were far more than familiar with thanks to Jongin, an upperclassman he met in his sophomore year and remained friends with since then. The beginning of the senior year marked the origin of parties and hook-ups in weak sporadic attempts to get over you. 

At this rate, Hyunjae could argue that he was more experienced than half of the current college freshmen class. Getting girls in bed was the easiest part; the hardest part was forgetting about you. From what was a method created to move on from you became one that prepared him for when you wanted sex with him. 

But with your constant longing for Jiwoong, Hyunjae made sure that this party would be different.

Although accustomed to having sex with various women, Hyunjae had never been one to drink. This was a fact about him that raised brows, specifically Jongin’s when he first tried urging Hyunjae with a drink, but tonight he vowed to change that. He was normally their designated driver, but when Hyunjae informed Sangyeon of his plan, the elder was more than delighted to remain sober so Hyunjae could get a taste of alcohol.

“Hey, man! It’s about time!” Jongin exclaimed the instant he found out about Hyunjae’s willingness to drink, pulling a fresh bottle out of the cooler specifically for his friend.

“That’s what I told him!” Sangyeon projected his voice over the music, giving Hyunjae a supportive pat on the back.

Hyunjae rolled his eyes at his friends’ remarks and thanked Jongin for the beer, hanging around by the counter as the three conversed and caught up. The two laughed at the way Hyunjae’s face scrunched up at the taste, Sangyeon shoving him lightly with the claim that Hyunjae was being overdramatic. 

With his earlier mindless decision of tossing on a mesh long-sleeve shirt over his black tank top, Hyunjae had attracted another partygoer by his side momentarily after his first sip. She wrapped her arms around one of his and inserted herself into the conversation with hopes of getting Hyunjae in bed by the end of the night, and crazily enough, he considered it for a moment before feeling his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

Normally it would be something he’d ignore, but it remained persistent, signifying that he was receiving a call. He didn’t know who would be calling at this hour—well, aside from Minghao and his usual complaints about Hyunjae partying as a high schooler on a school night. 

After setting the glass down on the counter to grab his phone, any urgency to intoxicate himself as quickly as possible vanished the very second he saw your name glowing on his screen. With an awkward retraction of his arm and a forced cough, Hyunjae excused himself and answered the call.

“Hello?”

With music pounding inside his ear canals, it was expected that he couldn’t hear anything you were saying. He navigated through various crowds to reach the entrance of the house, his heart replicating the booming vibrations from the loudspeakers as he prayed that you wouldn’t hang up on him.

“Okay, I…I should be free now,” he stammered after stepping outside. The sudden stillness of Mother Nature was a drastic change from the party scene, coercing him to focus on his racing heartbeat and the anxiety accumulating in his tightening chest. He was breathing heavily, both from pushing through people in a rush and also because of you. 

You never failed to render him weak and helpless, leaving him like a puppy longing for their owner’s guidance.

There was a silence, but he could hear your gentle breaths hitting your phone.

“I need a ride.”

Hyunjae blinked, his body tensing up, as the many thoughts in his brain scrambled to make meaning of what you meant. However, it didn’t matter because you hung up shortly after, leaving him alone to revel in your words.

Your bluntness and suddenty made Hyunjae malfunction, his thoughts leading him to question if he had even heard you correctly. Rarely did you ever reach out to him, and what could you need him for? Especially after lashing out at him and ignoring him for two months? Of course, there was that one day a week ago when you two were forced to talk together, the day he was given a one-day suspension, but you two returned to treating each other like strangers like it was natural.

He stared at his phone in hopes of receiving more information, that you’d perhaps call again to reconfirm or say you had the wrong number. He felt like he was dreaming—that the person he had wanted for so long needed him for once, but he couldn’t help but also believe that this may be the beginning of another nightmare. 

But it was you, and Hyunjae was willing to risk it.

After checking his call logs to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he rushed back into the fraternity house, thankful he didn’t proceed with drinking any more than he did. 

He found everyone exactly where he had left them (the girl included) and announced his departure. The girl made sure Hyunjae knew how disappointed she was, but that was his last concern as he grabbed the beer bottle and handed it to Sangyeon, giving him a pat on the back.

“Drink up and find an Uber.”

“No fucking way you’re leaving us this soon, man.” Jongin shook his head in disapproval, his forearms resting against the countertop.

“Another time, I promise, yeah?” Hyunjae started walking away, waving to them as his heart continued to thrum in his chest.

“He’s lying,” Sangyeon snorted, taking a swig before bidding Hyunjae a bitter goodbye. “You owe me!"

Hyunjae ran out of the house, his legs making quick and long strides as he ran to his parked car down the block. His newfound adrenaline made him think about what he was sacrificing to be with you. Was leaving the party and betraying his friends worth spending even a second with you? What if you were asking him to drive you and your boyfriend somewhere? Could his heart even deal with being used like that?

But as much as Hyunjae hated it, he knew he was making the right choice. The self-respect he had for himself was buried six feet deep beneath the surface of the earth when it came to you. 

God, he really hoped he wasn’t hallucinating.

For a split second, Hyunjae truly debated what he was doing after getting into his car. He was already driving, but he didn’t know where to go. Luckily, it didn’t take you long to send him a text with your location, and it was a place he was familiar with. 

It was a park that he often frequented as a kid since it resided by his old neighborhood, and he was thankful he knew exactly where to go because he knew he would’ve definitely crashed the car while pulling up your location on his GPS. Hyunjae was doubtful it was the alcohol in his system making his fingers shake and his mind uneasy. He blamed you for his hysteria, one that had developed over years of endless longing. 

Luckily the drive wasn’t long thanks to the roads being mainly void of other vehicles (and maybe he did speed a few times, but he considered it justified). Before pulling into the parking lot, he spotted a lone figure curled up on a nearby bench. A small weight had been lifted off of him, relieved it was just you, and he parked aimlessly while his eyes rested on you.

You seemed unphased by his added presence, your arms unmoving as they stayed wrapped around your legs. The bench you were sitting in was facing away from the parking lot, but with his headlights illuminating the view in front of you, you certainly had to know he was there. 

In an ideal world, Hyunjae would leave his car, join you by your side, and, if he was lucky, he’d pull you into his arms and hold you close against his chest. He wanted to be there for you in whatever way he could, but he ended up being a deer in headlights, too afraid to make the wrong move and lose you again.

He sat there for a minute, watching you, and as soon as he received the confidence to reach for the handle of his door, you were up on your feet. His fingers paused midair as he traced your movements, his arm eventually falling to his side as you approach his car. 

Despite how slow his mind was working, Hyunjae knew to unlock the car right as you opened it (he would’ve died out of embarrassment if he had forgotten), and neither of you greeted the other.

Without any explanation from you, Hyunjae refrained from staring at you like he normally would, but your outfit made it incredibly difficult. It wasn’t much, just an oversized long-sleeved shirt that reached your thighs, but it was far from the usual clothes he’d seen you wear, like jeans and a nice-fitting blouse. For a moment, he believed you had no pants on, but then he knocked some sense into himself, realizing that you were probably wearing shorts that were hidden.

While Hyunjae attempted to keep his composure and respect your boundaries, you were eyeing him shamelessly, once again analyzing every detail about him. Beads of sweat pooled up on the back of his neck, and his hair was straightened yet fuzzy. As your eyes trailed downwards, you noticed how the mesh hugged his biceps, catching every crease that defined his muscles. He was quiet, his index finger resting against his lips. 

Where did he even come from?

And why was he so quick to listen?

You held back your tongue from dumping out your thoughts, knowing your questions would end up unanswered like before. Your body instinctively rested against the divot between the car door and your seat, keeping your distance from Hyunjae. He was meant to be a stranger, perhaps someone you loathed, yet there was an odd comfort that encased you from him just sharing the same air as you.

You cleared your throat, turning your head to look away when he flinched and snapped his gaze towards you.

“Drive.”

Your demand was no louder than a whisper, but Hyunjae picked it up effortlessly and was already backing out.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere.” Hyunjae raised a brow at your answer, and you buried yourself further into his seat, directing your gaze out the door. “Just-...anywhere, Jae.”

The nickname had his throat tightening and his chest leaping, nodding in your direction as he drove on autopilot. With no destination in mind, he strolled through familiar roads, his fingers tapping against the wheel. 

You stayed silent, creating a tension that was unbearably thick, yet none of you felt the need to leave; neither of you wanted to leave the other, even if it meant having to deal with the looming elephant in the room (or in this case, Hyunjae’s car).

After spotting the recreational center from afar and its empty parking lot, he instinctively pulled in. There wasn’t a proper explanation for why he decided it’d make a great destination, especially when it was the place that created a rift in your relationship with him, but it felt right.

It was empty, open, and serene—a perfect place to stay as the moon shined.

Hyunjae stepped out of the car after parking in the middle of it, and when you didn’t follow, he moved to your side and opened the door. He was hesitant but took the risk of offering his hand to you, a warm, nervous smile on his face. He wanted you to know he was there to listen, to be there for you, because, Lord, he would hand you the world if he could.

“I’m not in the mood for walking,” you mumbled, but Hyunjae shook his head.

“We’re not going to walk, I promise.”

Your eyes flickered up to his briefly, skeptical of what he had planned, but ultimately caved. You ignored his hand, and he pulled it back with regret. When you stood there, your eyes on the sky, he closed the door behind you and guided you to the hood of his car.

Without a second thought, he sat on top of it and gestured for you to do the same.

“I sit here all the time. Helps me think.” He leaned back against his windshield, his hands holding the back of his head as he kept his eyes on the sky. When you didn’t move, he started to feel stupid, wondering if you two were better off in the car, but then you joined him. 

You copied his position, staring upwards as your hands rested over your abdomen. 

Hyunjae opted to keep to himself, deciding that he didn’t want to make this worse for the two of you. Instead, he fixated his thoughts on the stars in the sky.

There were only a few, but it was a rare sight due to the constant air pollution in your city, so he considered it a miracle. You, on the other hand, were spacing out in thought, and Hyunjae could tell through his occasional peeks. Without much control, his eyes started tracing down your arms. They then landed on where the hem of your shirt rested, now looking at your bare thighs.

Feeling as if he just reverted back to being the shyest virgin in the country, he gulped and immediately looked elsewhere, trying to get you off his mind despite you being right next to him. His racing heart was all that he could hear, and now he wondered if you could hear it too—if you knew how much you affected him.

And your voice broke the silence.

“How long have you known?”

Okay, maybe his brain did fall out of his skull because Hyunjae had no idea what you were talking about. He turned his head and caught how you stared up at the sky. Your eyes were glossy, holding the reflections of the whole galaxy within them. They sparkled, and for a beat, Hyunjae had forgotten your question, too infatuated with your beauty. 

His silence resulted in you turning your head, gaze meeting his, and that was when he noticed the tears.

“About Jiwoong and Eunseo.”

Your light, your flames, his burning desire; all were gone in a flash.

Your voice was delicate, and Hyunjae knew that with one move, he could break you.

Directing his gaze heavenward, Hyunjae sighed and brought his arms down to rest over his chest. Somehow he was able to feel all the pain you were experiencing, his heart twisting while his stomach churned and sloshed around in his body. He thought about how to respond as he chewed on the inside of his lip, questioning if he should answer at all to avoid hurting you.

But you asked, and as always, Hyunjae delivered.

“I don’t think I ever really knew until last week,” he explained, “but I could always tell.” Suddenly, the fight from a week ago had resurrected, and Hyunjae was forced to relive it all.

The hallways were empty when Hyunjae left the broadcasting room, a backpack strap slung over his shoulder while the other dangled behind him. He was in the middle of scrolling through his emails when he picked up on the sound of Jiwoong’s voice around the corner. 

His footsteps halted, and Hyunjae caught Jiwoong’s fatal words.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

Eunseo’s squeals followed after, and Hyunjae stood motionless.

At first, Hyunjae had no thoughts circulating in his brain, but after hearing their lips collide, he started coming up with solutions, such as interrupting or taking a video to send to you. Unfortunately, before he could act on either of them, he heard footsteps dashing off, practically skipping, as the two bidded one another goodbye. 

Hyunjae couldn’t pinpoint the reasoning behind his upcoming actions, but he knew how to describe how he felt. 

Anger was the first and only emotion to surge up within him, his fingers instinctively balling up into fists. His muscles had tightened while a forest fire ran rampant through his veins, causing his blood to boil. 

Then with quick strides, Hyunjae shoved his phone away and made a sharp turn around the corner, tossing his backpack on the ground after spotting Jiwoong against the lockers. The latter had a dazed look on his face, his lips curled into a smirk as he typed away on his phone, but that was changed once he looked up at the sound of Hyunjae’s backpack crashing against the ground in front of him.

There wasn’t a second in between Jiwoong’s face of surprise and Hyunjae’s arm being raised, and before Jiwoong could react, Hyunjae’s fist had slammed into his jaw. 

It was a blur from there, but Hyunjae knew he had won even after authorities dragged him off Jiwoong’s body. He had received a few jabs in return, but it was nothing compared to the black eye Hyunjae gave him.

The fact that Jiwoong managed to cover it up with makeup the day after was a miracle, and no one in the school knew about the fight since it happened after school. Hyunjae wanted it to stay that way, but a selfish, cruel part of him wished that everyone knew how sick your boyfriend was.

Well, now he was unsure if he was still your boyfriend. 

Hyunjae turned his head back towards you, his cheek meeting the cold metal of his car.

You pursed your lips at his response and nodded slowly. If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have believed him. There was no universe where you’d choose to listen to Hyunjae over Jiwoong, but after a week of investigating and getting your head out of your ass, you found out on your own terms, and all the pieces made sense.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Hyunjae’s voice jerked you out of your thoughts, and as you adjusted to look back at him, you were surprised to still find him staring at you.

“I’m not a violent person, Y/N,” he whispered, an enduring hope lingering in his eyes. He wanted you to believe him, and for once, you did; you truly understood the man you hated most.

“I know, Jae.”

Hyunjae eased at your words, and the two of you fell back into a more comfortable yet aching silence. His fingers drummed against his abdomen, and after a while, he got sick of looking at the same four stars, so he closed his eyes, focusing on enjoying the light breeze instead. His heart was still racing, but it was less alarming. Regardless, he hated knowing that he potentially contributed to how much you were hurting right now.

Maybe if he had done something to prevent it earlier, whether it be telling you as soon as he found out or keeping completely out of your business so you could live in bliss, or, if he wasn’t so scared, he could’ve asked you to be his far before Jiwoong had. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed much, but Hyunjae would never know since he never tried, and now he was going to beat himself over it because now you’re devastated over losing your boyfriend and it was potentially his faul—

You laughed.

Hyunjae snapped his head towards you, his brows raised at your sudden change in mood—but it wasn’t the type of laugh he expected. Your laugh was one filled with pain, and he watched you shake your head, trying to refuse the tears that were rapidly welling up in your eyes once more. You sniffed and wiped the tears away with the back of your hand, choosing to look in the opposite direction because the last thing you wanted was for Hyunjae to see you vulnerable.

“It’s stupid,” you murmured. “This entire thing is stupid. I’m so fucking dumb.”

His lips parted to interject, to tell you that you were, in fact, ‘not dumb,’ but he clamped his mouth shut, knowing that his words probably wouldn’t help. From what he’d learned in the past, you liked it least when he tried telling you otherwise, no matter the situation. 

“I should’ve known. I did know. The whole world knew. Even you knew, but it makes me think, was Eunseo just flocking around, flaunting to everyone that she had a crush on my boyfriend and managed to win him over? I just—I…I don’t know-...” You paused to catch your breath, beginning to choke on your tears as your chest shook, “I don’t know what I did wrong, you know?”

You shut your eyes, allowing the pain to engulf you. You knew fully well that your punishment was to deal with the pain, but you felt like you didn’t deserve it—that you deserved none of this. Why was this a penalty for being in love?

It was humiliating having everyone witness the reality you shielded from yourself, choosing hope and love over the truth. 

“I just never felt more stupid in my life, and I feel even more stupid knowing that I still love him.”

Hyunjae sucked in his lips, gnawing on them as he bit back all his feelings, from his brain shredding to his heart weeping.

“I love him so much that I would let him do it to me all over again because I keep thinking he’d be better. I know he can be better, so why-...It’s just- Why do I do this to myself?”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks, each one leaving behind a trail for others to fall. They started pouring out of you rapidly, soon sobbing at the heart-wrenching pain of being betrayed by everyone in your life, Hyunjae included, because why, out of everyone, was he here for you when he should be the last person who cared?

You always wanted Hyunjae to be the antagonist of your life story, to have him as your biggest enemy and threat, so why was everyone else but him hurting you? Why was the villain of your fantasy taking the role of your knight in shining armor?

And yet, as much as it pained Hyunjae to process all your emotions, his mind wasn’t running correctly; he had you alone for the first time in months. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in his arms and whisper words of comfort in your ears, knowing you deserved it more than anyone, but he also wanted to shake you awake and slap you out of your misery, praying that you’d forget about Jiwoong; that right now, you being vulnerable was his chance to swoop in, to set whatever you wanted him to into flames, as long as if it meant you’d end up okay. 

You sat up because if you lied down any longer, you would’ve started drowning in your own tears. Your sleeves were soaked, and he sat up alongside you, figuring that he should do something about it.

Hyunjae got back onto his feet and stood in front of you. He barely knew what he was doing, but that didn’t stop him from replacing your sleeves with his cold, clammy hands over your cheeks. There wasn’t a time that Hyunjae could recall where he had been this gentle with someone, and when you didn’t push him away, he tilted your head up to look at him.

Even with tears running down your cheeks, you looked angelic as ever. 

Each droplet mirrored a star from the sky, and your eyes sparkled as they stayed locked on his.

“Take me,” you whispered, and Hyunjae’s whole world stopped. 

“...What?” Hyunjae had only intended to wipe your tears away with the pads of his hands, perhaps whisper something along the lines of him being here for you for the night (and the rest of his life, let’s be honest), yet your first words were—no, he had to have been hallucinating.

Your hands trembled as they reached for his wrist, and although you were severely broken, the grip your fingers created was firm.

“Please.”

Like a moth to a flame, Hyunjae admired how pretty you looked, your lips plump and eyes wide, and he wanted nothing more than to take you into his backseat and treat you the way he’d always wanted to, especially after hearing your pleas, but he knew better. You both knew better. 

“What exactly are you implying?” he asked, feeling like you had just inhaled all his oxygen and left him breathless. 

You released his wrist and opted to hold onto his sleeve, tugging on it as you tried to get him to understand you.

“I want it to hurt, Jaehyun.”

Your tears were gone, and there was a hint of dominance in your tone that would’ve had him dropped to his knees in front of you. You were also one of the very few who resorted to calling him Jae, and now his actual name. He favored Hyunjae, but after hearing ‘Jaehyun’ from your lips, his preference had completely made a turnaround. 

But Hyunjae worked to collect his thoughts, fully aware that this was wrong and he’d have to be the bigger person here. As much as he hated himself for giving up the perfect opportunity to have the girl of his dreams, he couldn’t ignore the large concern over your current mental state.

“You’re not thinking straight, Y/N,” he reasoned softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, and for a second, Hyunjae swore he felt the alcohol kicking in—or perhaps it was you instead. The thought of being able to have you right now, to touch you and press his hands over your skin, to have you as his for just this night, was so intoxicating that he was seconds away from foaming at the mouth.

“I don’t need to think straight. I don’t want to think at all.”

Everything felt hotter and tighter, but he kept his composure, though with his eyes dropping to your begging lips and then your delicate fingers, he knew he was beginning to lose whatever was left of his sanity. 

But he also knew you were using him; you had to be. There was no other explanation. It was only minutes ago when you professed how you continued to feel about Jiwoong—that your heart still belonged to him, and Hyunjae was allowed nowhere near it. He was your backup, your second option, yet that happened to be better than nothing, right?

Especially when he could have you right here, right now. 

“You’re using me.”

Your expression didn’t falter.

“Then say no. Make us go back into your car and drive me home.” Your hand dropped from holding onto his sleeve but that was so you could wrap your arms around his neck, slowly bringing yourself closer to him. His cheeks were flushed as his mind flooded with possibilities of what could happen. Never had you ever wanted him, and he’d been dreaming of a moment like this for years. Your tear-stained cheeks, your pouty red lips—he wanted all of you.

“But you won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitting his skin. Your eyes landed on his lips, now craving him as much as he craved you. You needed a release, an outlet, to justify Jiwoong being better than Hyunjae. Hyunjae was worse in every way possible, and you wanted him to prove that to you. “You’d do anything I’d say, wouldn’t you?”

“What makes you say that?” Little did you know Hyunjae was crumbling inside, completely melting as his fingers grew weak at the idea of your lips on his. His hands, although wary, traveled to your waist, feeling your curves before trailing his hands down to your hips to grip them.

“You love me, don’t you?”

His heart stuttered, all words caught up in his throat, but he knew there was no defending himself—not when he was practically drooling at every move you made; he was hyperaware of the hand playing with the hair on his nape, the way your lips nearly hovered over his, and how your tears glistened under the moonlight.

His entire existence was confirmation of your words, and you knew it.

“You’d do anything for me, Jae. What’s stopping you now?”

There was a stillness as you two stared at one another. He swallowed and pulled slightly back.

He knew better.

“You don’t want me.” He was brokenhearted, a part of him understanding that you’d never be his, yet he wanted you in so many ways, wishing to have your mewls fill his ears and the smell of sex staining his clothes. The bulge in his pants was forming and pressing up against the tight confinement, making him groan. 

He dropped his head downwards, his forehead leaning to rest against yours, as he closed his eyes and did his best to regulate his breathing—repeating in his head and out loud, again.

He knew better.

“You’re using me.”

You both knew better.

Yet with your lips ghosting his and your eyes half-hooded, you were prepared to give into the dark side.

“And I say take advantage of it.”

Hyunjae dived and pressed his lips onto yours, hunger driving his every movement. There was no stopping when he felt your lips curling up into a grin, his hands shifting to wrap around your torso to drag you closer. His heart burst at how perfectly his lips molded with yours, and it seemed as if there was fire shooting up into the sky and exploding—they weren’t fireworks, and the explosion was far bigger and more dangerous. It lit the entirety of the sky, the moon and stars included, into flames, a desire unlike any other.

Your left hand pressed firm against the back of his neck while the other traveled through his hair. Meanwhile, his hands had snuck beneath your shirt and felt for your lower back. Heavy breaths left the two of you as desperation crept through your veins, dictating your every movement. 

The cold touch from his hands ignited your nervous system, every sense activated and overstimulated by Hyunjae as you released a breathy moan into his mouth.

You didn’t want him, but fuck, you needed him.

When you would pull back, his lips would chase yours, and you two fell into an endless cycle. He couldn’t even fathom how you were pulling away for air when you were his oxygen. Maybe you weren’t oxygen itself, but the fumes you emitted had already replaced his need for air, deluding him into believing that you were what he needed to stay alive.

You were suffocating, toxic, and destructive, and he wanted more. 

After retracting from the kiss for the nth time, you turned your head to hold Hyunjae back from continuing. You both were panting, your cunt soaking, and he stared into your eyes like a puppy awaiting their next direction.

“Good boy,” you praised, and he laughed lowly and sheepishly, dropping his head as he processed what happened and the idea of it being potentially over. 

“You’re lethal,” he breathed out.

“And you’re pitiful,” you spat. There was a playful grin on your lips, but those words ignited something within Hyunjae. He raised his head and cocked a brow at you, questioning your genuinity. 

Just minutes ago you were crying over a guy that treated you terribly, and yet here you thought you had the authority to call him weak.

Perhaps he was; he was falling deeper into your pitless trap, enticed with every movement of yours, but he knew for a fact you weren’t any better than him.

You both were sick in the head for falling for people that treated the other like shit, yet your drive, your fuel, to win over the hearts of the people you loved was so strong, and it made you two unstoppable. 

Hyunjae would punch Jiwoong all over again if he could. 

Without a second thought, Hyunjae ducked his head down and ruthlessly attached his lips to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. He kissed your skin fervently, his fingers teasing the rim of your shorts, and your hands shifted to hold onto his shoulders for support. You found yourself tossing your head back, providing him more room to do as he pleased, that if Jiwoong were to see you with marks on your neck, then maybe he’d want you back. 

“Bold of you to call me pitiful,” he grumbled, sucking onto your neck until a blot of purple began to form.

“But it’s true, no?”

“You’re just as bad, Y/N.” He licked a stripe up your neck and over the mark, and the sensation made you cringe, disgust itching at your skin due to being covered in his saliva, but you wanted more of it. You wanted Hyunjae to treat you like you were nothing, to treat you worse than Jiwoong ever had, so you could direct your blame over to Hyunjae instead of your unknowing boyfriend.

You turned your head and slotted your lips with his again, already addicted to how perfect they were for you. Hyunjae knew the exact way to kiss you, to keep you on your toes, as your slick pooled up in your underwear at the mere thought of Hyunjae touching you.

The kiss was eager, a fight for control, and when Hyunjae didn’t surrender, you raised your knee, forcing your thigh to brush up against his crotch.

He gasped at the sensation and pulled away, bangs hanging over his eyes as he looked down at the sight. You teased him by keeping your touches gentle, but you made sure to keep your leg moving. Nothing intrigued you more than seeing Hyunjae beg or rut against your thigh, further proof of how pathetic he was for you. You gained a sense of ego knowing that he could have any girl in the world, that he has had every girl, and yet he would always come back to you. Now that you had him, it would be harder for him to return to a life without you under him, moaning his name.

You wanted to be his downfall. 

Your nails latched onto the mesh, taking note of how easy it would be to rip the material, before pressing your thigh firmly up against his dick, making him jerk.

“You’re-...oh my god, Y/N,” he gasped, breathless. His eyes meet your devious ones, how you were basically Satan himself, and somehow, someway, he wouldn’t ask for anything different. “You’re playing a losing…a losing- game.”

“What more do I have left to lose?” There was some truth in your words as vulnerability struck you. Your leg then lowered as you regained a slight sense of reality, realizing that you were forcing Hyunjae into being your selfish source of relief. You hated Hyunjae, sure, but you knew this was the last thing he deserved—to use him when he’d been nothing but accommodating to you.

And your sick and twisted plan was that after this encounter, you’d leave him to rot.

Hyunjae didn’t deserve that at all. 

But Hyunjae was already too far gone, too intoxicated, to even consider the repercussions of how he’d end up after this. The loss of contact with his crotch was what had him picking you up from his car, the tips of his fingers digging into your thighs, as he led you to the backseat. 

Your eyes widened, your senses fully back, but you made him like this, and you were going to pay for it. Although scared for about what’s to come, the anticipation had you drooling, your lips pressing fierce kisses onto his skin while he opened the door with you in his arms.

He laid you down gently and crawled over you, keeping you trapped between his arms.

“This is what you wanted, right? For me to tear you apart until you can run back to Jiwoong and justify how poorly he treats you?” 

Your brows bunched up at his words, your legs getting antsy being under him. There was no answering him, not when Hyunjae already knew how you were going to respond.

He brought one of his hands into your shorts and made the aggravating decision to slide his fingers over your underwear, depriving you of contact with his fingers.

Yet even with your underwear being a divider, he found your clit with ease and immediately started rubbing circles into the bud, making you buck your hips with a whine. The friction of the cloth was something you were unfamiliar with, and lord did it mess with you. 

“You want me to treat you how he sees you? Worthless and undeserving of respect?” He flicked your clit and kissed your jaw. “If that’s what you want, that’s exactly what my princess is going to get.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, using your hands to push onto his shoulders and force him down. The drive to ride his tongue was strong, and if he kept teasing you, you would have lost it.

“I know you inside and out, Y/N. I know you better than him, and this is how you treat me.” He sucked in a cheek but ultimately decided to comply with what you wanted. He pulled off your shorts yet left your underwear on, and his brows raised. He wasn’t sure how his fingers had missed the texture of lace, but what you were wearing was certainly lingerie.

You looked down to see why he stopped, and when you realized why he froze, heat rose to your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel pretty,” you whispered, shutting your eyes after turning your head. It was embarrassing, now that you thought about it, but Hyunjae’s heart soared, and he wanted nothing more than for you to know how ethereal you looked.

But he shoved the feeling away, allowing his frustrations to get the better half of him. 

When he pulled off your underwear, he cooed at how your essence oozed onto the material and raised the undergarment into the air, waiting for you to look.

“Did I do this?”

His mocking tone kept you from looking, but your curiosity got the best of you. You were met with the sight of a large wet, dark patch on your underwear, biting down on your lip as you looked at him with wide eyes. If you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this, or if there ever had been a time when you craved someone this badly. 

He tossed it to the side and his hands massaged your thighs, keeping them spread open so he got a proper view of your core on display for him. The sight truly stunned him, reminding him that this was you he fantasized about and replicated with other girls—no one else.

“Do you normally take this long?” you rasped, tossing your head back against the seat, and Hyunjae rolled his eyes.

“I do you a favor, and this is how you treat me.”

“A favor is a stretch—”

Hyunjae plunged two fingers into your mouth, having them press firmly down against your tongue. He latched onto your jaw and pulled your head forward and up towards him, having your eyes meet his.

“Remind me, Y/N, who was begging for this?”

He dropped your head back down against the seat before you could even respond and used whatever saliva accumulated in your mouth as temporary lube, figuring that your slick would help him with stretching you out. You grunted at the impact, feeling helpless, as Hyunjae finally inserted his fingers inside of you. 

Hyunjae’s fingers were enough to have your eyes rolling, but it was the ring that he wore that stimulated you the most. You weren’t aware that he was even wearing one, yet the cold band against your raging wet heat made you whimper and desperately grasp for his hair.

“Jaehyun, please,” you begged. 

He chuckled and kept his movements slow, forcing you to fuck yourself onto his fingers weakly. When you did, he was in awe at how stunning you looked, how you seemed to be in your own world, and how you were enjoying him. By curling his fingers, a moan was pulled from your throat, making your eyes open as you looked at him. You continued to pool around his fingers, your voice weakly begging for so much more than his fingers and the cold air that brushed against your skin. 

Never had you felt more vulnerable, but Hyunjae never once made you feel like you were doing something wrong, making you cling desperately to him. You forced his face down into your crotch and jerked at the feeling of his nose brushing up against your clit.

“Shameless, aren’t you?” he commented, laughing lowly, but you were too out of it to care. 

“Shut the-...F-fuck, oh my god.”

Your whines had gotten more incessant the more useless he became, his fingers now completely stilled inside of you as he watched you roll your hips with a cheeky grin. He wanted to drag this out for as long as possible, knowing fully well that he could last all night. 

When he took out his fingers, you were yanked out of your bliss and nearly begged for him to put them back in, but before you could get a word out, he had replaced his digits with his tongue. Your slick was dripping onto his lips, and as he dragged his wet muscle up and down your folds, he made sure to collect a small puddle of you onto his tongue to eventually swallow, wanting to savor you. 

“Oh-...Oh my god, Jae—” Your orgasm was approaching, unsure of how it was here so soon, but you recognized the signs from the coil in your chest tightening to losing every sensation to the man beneath you. You rocked your hips continuously onto his tongue, and his thumb attached to your clit, making you see stars with how rapid his movements were. 

He pulled his face back and forced his fingers back into you, and the final curl was what made you reach your peak, your hips in the air as you cried out his name. 

As you came down from your high, you caught a glance of the way Hyunjae was looking at you; to him, you were otherworldly, and it was a sight he’d never forget. He wondered if Jiwoong ever saw you like this, if he ever made you feel this way, and suddenly his admiration had soured and contoured to something of darkness, rid of any empathy as he now looked at you with some form of disgust. 

“All this for me, and you still have the fucking audacity to choose him.” 

The mention of Jiwoong had your eyes wide open, tears reappearing at the mention and while being in your most vulnerable state. Your legs shook from the aftermath, feeling too weak to continue, yet Hyunjae seemed to have other plans.

Instead of shoving his fingers back into either of your mouths, he hovered over you and made sure you saw the way he dragged his fingers around your abdomen, drawing aimlessly over your skin with your essence before dragging a hand up to your breasts, massaging one of them as his other hand rested by your waist.

“Tell me, Y/N, did you buy this for him and never got to use it? That’s why you’re wearing it now with me? Am I your sloppy seconds?”

There was a slight growl under his tone, and while you shook your head subconsciously, he worked to remove your shirt, wanting a better look at your bra, before being met with a necklace you had been hiding; one with Jiwoong’s name.

And Hyunjae took no time breaking it from your neck.

Your jaw dropped, and you snapped out of your daze by sitting straight up, yet as you were about to yell at him for breaking your necklace, he shoved three fingers back into your pussy, shutting you up by having you moan at the intrusion. 

“It looked cheap, anyway,” he muttered, forcing his mouth against yours momentarily to nip on your lower lip, tugging on it so your focus remained on him. 

“That was—he’s mine,” you forced out, gasping at every thrust he made with his fingers, your sweet spot being abused as your hands latched onto his shoulders. You made sure your nails dug into his skin, wanting it to hurt, before pulling onto the mesh, wishing for it to tear. 

“He’s not yours, princess. Tell me, how can you say that when his dick has been up other girls?” With his free hand, he grabbed your face and made sure you were staring straight at him before shoving it to the side. 

“You need to fucking wake up and realize that you can dream all you want about how he’d react if he saw you hopping on my dick, but guess what? He wouldn’t care.” Hyunjae pulled out his fingers and left you alone in the backseat. 

You sat there, a wreck and vulnerable, as you tried to catch your breath. You lay back on your forearms, curious eyes following his every movement.

“There’s a reason he hasn’t left you yet,” Hyunjae explained, opening the front door to his car to grab a condom and his phone. He tucked both into his back pocket before returning to you, bringing your lips to his before continuing to talk within the kiss.

“He’s stringing you along so you can boost his ego. He knows you will always be there for him, and you allow him to use you like that?” 

You wrapped your fingers around Hyunjae’s neck, squeezing it before pushing it away to keep your distance, your frustration starting to grow.

“I’m beginning to think you’re all bark and no bite, Jaehyun,” you muttered, and with whatever strength you had left, you pushed him against the seat and got into his lap. Without hesitation, you started rocking your hips over his clothed dick, hoping your slick would seep in so he could feel you.

He hissed but allowed you to do as you pleased, his grip tight on your hips.

“I-...I think…if you asked me, you’re the one who’s projecting. I’m the one in a relationship, and you’re just a side piece.”

The speed of your hips increased, and Hyunjae felt ecstasy on the tip of his tongue, the confinements of his pants physically paining him the more you continued.

“You’re jealous, Jae. Just admit it.”

You pulled at his hair, loving the absolute control you had over him at that moment, but in one languid motion, Hyunjae managed to push you back down, this time with your stomach against the seats. You could feel your bodily fluids sticking to the nylon, and with how hard Hyunjae was pressing down into you, you were barely given a chance to move. 

With one hand on your lower back, he kept you still as he took out both his phone and condom, making sure to place both on top of your bare skin.

“What’s there to be jealous of when you’re here under me? You want to be fucked stupid? Fine. Don’t fucking complain when you want me to be the villain.” You lurched at his words, refusing to let him win, but you were completely unable to do much damage as Hyunjae kicked off his pants and boxers while still keeping his weight on you.

He then picked up his phone and pulled up the camera, making sure to take a photo of you in his car before clicking record and tossing the phone onto the ground, hoping it was close enough to pick up on your sweet noises. 

“Make sure to be loud for me, yeah? I’m sure Jiwoong would love it if I sent that video to him.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” you bit back, your hand reaching out in an attempt to grab the device, but Hyunjae was quicker to grab your wrist, pinning it behind your back. 

“I wouldn’t because I know how to appreciate what’s mine.” Hyunjae released his hold on you to roll on the condom, giving you the opportunity to move and take his phone as you pleased. To your dismay, there was no more effort left within you, only an ache to feel Hyunjae inside you. 

“He appreciates me,” you mumbled, trying to convince yourself otherwise as you waited.

“Does he record you? Jerk off to your moans every night? Because I would, Y/N, just for you.” His voice was now by your ear, and when you turned your head to look at him, he pulled you into another hungry kiss, his dick now grazing against your hole. 

“You’re fucking insane,” you bit back into the kiss, and he grinned against your lips, guiding his dick into you as he spoke.

“Psychotic, just for my princess.”

Venom laced his voice, dripping menacingly, and the insertion of his tip had you grasping for something in front of you, anything, and it was only then that you were able to process how thick his cock was.

“Can you take it?” he asked, his voice slightly softer than before. When you gave him a curt nod, he continued pushing in further. Maybe lube should’ve been an option, but you were so wet for him that it didn’t matter, knowing that the stretch probably would have hurt regardless. 

“Fuck, fuck—he really doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Hyunjae gasped, his head resting against the back of yours. It was better than anything he’d dreamed of, better than any girl he imagined, because it was you, and your body was made for him.

“When was the last time he fucked you?” He was fully inside of you now, and when you didn’t answer, he decided to take it as a sign to move. With a firm grip on your waist, he pulled out just to slam back in, making you yell as you clawed at the seat, wishing there was something to bite on as you endured the pain that was quick to morph into pleasure. 

Every glide pushed you further into the car, your forearms occasionally hitting the door, as his hips moved vigorously, working up to a pace that had you moaning without pause. Tears were flowing down your cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure of being manhandled—of being Hyunjae’s rag doll when he was meant to be yours, and your body seized up, being worked up to your orgasm once more with how precise each thrust seemed to be. 

He adjusted to raise one of your legs to his hip, giving him a new angle to pound into you as he worships you with his dick, and you shook out of pleasure, whining as you saw white and reached your second orgasm for the night. You pulsated around his cock, strangled moans ripping from your throat as tears mixed with your drool by your chin.

And Hyunjae showed no signs of stopping.

He made sure to press your face down against the seats, wanting every liquid to fall and stain his car, giving him something to remember you by.

Oh, and there was the recording too.

While kneeling inside of the cramped car, he slowed his movements and inclined his torso towards you. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you up, locking you inside his elbow as he forced you to look into your reflection in the car window.

“Look at you, the school’s favorite slut. What happens if the recording drops? The whole school would know you’re mine, wouldn’t they?” He pressed his chest against your back, the mesh rubbing against your skin as his lips remained near your ear, forcing you to listen to every word.

You limped against him, your flames completely burnt out, and your fingers tugged onto the mesh around his arm, successfully ripping it after some time, but Hyunjae seemed unphased. In fact, it turned him on even more knowing that he had you locked in, that you were his.

“Look at your pretty cunt taking me in so well. It was so wet for me, wasn’t it? It still is. And guess what? You’re in my car. You belong to me, and my good girl is only now just finding out about it, isn’t she?” 

“I-I’m…I’m not-...not yours,” you retaliated, creating red angry marks into his skin with your nails as you endured being used, stifling your moans as you looked at how wrecked you were, how bare you seemed to be compared to Hyunjae. You were much more of a mess, from your hair to the bruises on your neck. Your pussy kept tightening up around his dick, convulsing occasionally with every hit toward your g-spot, and you held onto Hyunjae each time. 

Your head drooped down, thinking about how your heart ached for Jiwoong, yet the rest of your body was meant for Hyunjae.

“Whose fucking dick is inside of you right now?” He scoffed and pulled on your hair, forcing your head back up so he could directly speak into your ear. “Wake up, Y/N,” he demanded. “You’re mine.”

He dropped you back onto the seat like you were nothing, leaving you completely helpless, your throat void of any words as your eyes closed and met the back of your skull, too fucked out to communicate. You tried reaching for the door handle, just something to hold onto, yet you couldn’t.

“You tell me I’m pitiful, that I’m basically delusional when you’re going to be the reason my car will smell like sex for weeks.”

Your face was forced back into the puddle of liquid you created earlier, being shifted back and forth against the seat as if you were made for his dick and not vice versa.

“It’s crazy how pathetic you are, how willing you are to break yourself down in front of everyone just to have him. That-...fuck…that you’re so convinced he wants you and you two are soulmates.” He dragged his fingers through your hair and grabbed your roots. “You called me, you wanted me, and I have you right now, moaning my name, and you have nothing.”

Something about his words kept bringing out your orgasms, each thrust adding to the pleasure immensely. You didn’t know how much you could handle—afraid you may pass out from how much he was using you, from his tight grip around you to his dick hitting inside of you mercilessly.

Hyunjae whispering ‘I won, Y/N’ was what had you losing it, your high this time ending up stronger than the rest. You were fully crying now, and yet he continued as if you were nothing.

He peppered your shoulder with kisses and had the slight decency to slow his pace, but he also took note of your sobs.

“Don’t tell me you still want him,” he began rambling, his lips still on your shoulder. “Don’t tell me after this that your heart still belongs to him, because if that were the case, I’d make you call him right now. Say you wish it was him instead of me, and that he’s the love of your life while you’re stuffed with my dick. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You could no longer think, and what you hated most was how reactive your body was—how you were just able to come for the third time, but Hyunjae’s dick solely being inside you snapped some other straw you weren’t aware you had, finding that your last high was incoming. 

Hyunjae had picked up the pace by then, and by knowing your body incredibly well, he reached down to your sensitive clit to relieve you. You both knew your fourth was arriving, and you held on tight to his arm.

“J-Jaehy- hyun, I’m—”

“Mine.”

You cried out, your entire body shaking, and Hyunjae pulled out, immediately releasing onto your back with a guttural moan after yanking off the condom. He was forced to catch his breath, watching you float in and out of consciousness.

Your eyes were closed, struggling to breathe through your sobs, and Hyunjae consoled you with a kiss on the back of your shoulder. 

“You’re mine, Y/N, whether you like it or not.”

He then pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaving to grab paper towels from his trunk. You were heaving, still shaking, and left alone as a mess in his backseat, yet with him gone, you felt even more useless, wanting him back by your side instantly. You weakly cried out for him, your nails dragging against the seat in hopes of being in his arms soon, and maybe he was right.

Maybe you were his.

OUR INFERNO [ M.LIST | TWO ]

NAVIGATION — THE BOYZ

© https://hcuyk.tumblr.com/

[stealanity]

playlist one , the boyz ( cch to src ) :

⠀

ꕤ choi chanhee ,

the so-called boyfriend ( smau , hiatus )

better

yarrow

cry for me

strawberry flavor

⠀

[ 8:42pm ]

[ 10:42pm ]

[ 11:12pm ]

[ 5:25am ]

⠀

ꕤ ji changmin ,

you did well

lying eyes

first love

dream of you

dream of you ( part two )

⠀

[ 10:32pm ]

[ 2:24am ]

[ 6:17am ]

[ 6:14pm ]

⠀

ꕤ ju haknyeon ,

our secret little date

⠀

[ 12:24pm ]

[ 8:23pm ]

[ 9:36pm ]

⠀

ꕤ kim sunwoo ,

color palette ( smau , finished )

game over ( ft. eric , written serie , discontinued )

you're save

late night kiss

a to z being your boyfriend

old toy

new toy

ghost train

just friends

easier

unashamedly

⠀

[ 3:47am ]

[ 3:45am ]

[ 9:45pm ]

[ 6:38pm ]

[ 11:57pm ]

[ 11:25pm ]

⠀

ꕤ sohn eric ,

endless race ( smau , finished )

game over ( ft. sunwoo , written serie , discontinued )

age of love

broken night

never be you

roulette to your heart

because of you

black hair & red lipstick

all over

one bed

birthday present(s)

⠀

[ 3:22pm ]

[ 2:56pm ]

[ 2:24pm ]

[ 2:04am ]

⠀

ꕤ ot-eleven ,

sorry, for breaking your heart ( written serie , hiatus )

kiss or kill? ( one shot )

the boyz as the vamps' songs

october 19 : international kiss your crush day

kiss their s/o for the first time

their s/o asking them for one last kiss

their s/o having a habit of sitting on their lap

their s/o being drunk

their s/o cutting their hair short

their s/o holding hands when they're anxious / clingy

their crush not being touchy

always having an extra scrunchie for their s/o

watching a horror movie with their s/o

sharing a bed with their s/o for the first time

accidently outing their relationship on vlive

⠀

. . . link to hyung line !

[stupidkyupid]

𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 : 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 ！

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : the start of a fresh semester at barden university marks the continuation of a century-old fued or, in other words – the showdown between the treblemakers and the bellas.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!theboyz x fem!oc

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : smau, pitch perfect au, romance, humour, drama, fluff, angst, college au

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 : ongoing

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 + 𝐚 / 𝐧 : instead of using y/n i decided to give each oc a name and face claim to make it easier to navigate between each story! the foundation of most of the pairings where they’re both involved in accapella has an enemies to lovers and forbidden love aspect to it due to the rule bellas have to not engage in any sort of romance with the treblemakers, however the amount of this that is prevelant will depend on the characters and how much they actually care about the ‘rules’! also, whilst i’ll give more detailed disclaimers at the beginning of each mini series, i’m just going to establish that there will be sex references throughout this, in true pitch perfect fashion. the whole accapella thing is more of a subplot, it’s a big part of the characters and their personalities but this will also heavily focus on college life as well as romance. i’m aiming for each member to have a 20 part story! i’ll also be aging the members down to college ages!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍 － 𝖨’𝖫𝖫 𝖬𝖠𝖪𝖤 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖢𝖱𝖸 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!leader!sangyeon x bella!leader!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : grumpy x sunshine

the treblemakers and bellas have earned the reputation as the montagues and capulets of the a cappella world for as long as anyone can recall. it's safe to assume that the leaders of each group would be in constant conflict, or at least that's what gyulmi believes is the most reasonable course of action. however, sangyeon couldn't care less about conforming to these social norms and opts for a diplomatic approach towards his arch-nemesis. but can he maintain his composure when gyulmi responds to his kindness with nothing but anger?

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐁 𝐁𝐀𝐄 － 𝖫𝖠𝖣𝖨𝖤𝖲 𝖭𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : tutor!treblemaker!jacob x player!bella!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : opposites attract

all dalny has ever known is romance; however, it has never taken the form of a conventional, long-term, exclusive relationship where the phrase 'i love you' is frequently uttered. in fact, quite the opposite is true. her life revolves around romance, yet she has never experienced love. one might describe dalny as a player, a title she proudly wears, until she started interacting with jacob bae during their tutoring sessions. somewhere along the way, she began to yearn for something more profound than just non-committal kisses from her supposed enemy.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 － ’𝖳𝖨𝖫 𝖶𝖤 𝖬𝖤𝖤𝖳 𝖠𝖦𝖠𝖨𝖭 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!younghoon x student!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : forbidden love

dasom and younghoon have always been familiar with each other. it isn't surprising, considering dasom had dated his older brother on and off for several long months just a year ago. needless to say, the relationship didn't end well, leading dasom to flee to barden university instead of continuing with the toxic cycle. so, during her fresh new start, the last thing she expected was to encounter younghoon, the younger brother of her haunting ex. however, what surprised her even more was finding comfort within his presence, rather than harboring resentment towards the figure from her past and how she can’t help but attend his performances, unable to stay away, yet troubled by the forbidden nature of their connection.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐀𝐄 － 𝖯𝖴𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖭’ 𝖭 𝖯𝖴𝖫𝖫𝖨𝖭’ ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!hyunjae x newbella!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : friends with benefits to lovers

nari and hyunjae have been entangled in their so-called mutually beneficial arrangement for nearly a year now. it's a classic case, really, a 'friends with benefits' situation where the only rule is to avoid catching feelings. nari sees herself as skilled in detaching herself from her emotions, but that facade becomes harder to maintain when her best friend coerces her into joining what she dubs 'the dumb world of a cappella' as a last-minute recruit for the bellas. suddenly, her carefree nights with hyunjae evolve into passionate escapades, and the forbidden nature of their relationship sparks new emotions. what did she expect? she's sleeping with the enemy, and history shows it never ends well.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍 － 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝖥𝖮𝖮𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖧 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!juyeon x bella!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : exes to lovers

high school sweethearts – it's nice while it lasts, but that's often the case with most things. you cherish something or someone while you have them, but the moment they slip from your grasp, love can quickly turn to hatred. seulki and juyeon could certainly tell you all about this, provided you can endure hours of angry rants and lovesick glances. in short, seulki hates lee juyeon, and juyeon hates sim seulki. they both vowed never to speak again, but that's practically inviting the impossible when their beloved acappella groups seem to constantly be all up in each others faces, something the two of them seem to excel. it didn't take much for another cliche to emerge, where the lines between love and hate start to blur.

𝐊𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 － 𝖧𝖤𝖫𝖫 𝖨𝖭 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖵𝖤𝖭 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!kevin x producer!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : brothers best friend

june has always had a keen interest in the world of music, not as the center stage performer, but behind the scenes, making the music that's loved by many. so, when she's offered a position at the campus radio station, she's thrilled to accept. however, there's a catch: Kevin, her older brother Jacob's best friend, also works there. Jacob had specifically cautioned her not to get involved with Kevin due to his familiarity with the clichés. but how can she adhere to her brother's advice when Kevin's presence becomes a constant part of her daily life, making it difficult not to form an attachment to someone she spends hours with every day? now, the second challenge arises: how should she break the news to Jacob about her relationship with his best friend?

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐄 － 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝖥𝖮𝖮𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖧 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!chanhee x bella!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : rivals to lovers

chanhee and seolya have been in constant rivalry for as long as anyone can remember, or in other words, back to the very beginning of their first semester when they both achieved identical scores, earning them the joint first-place position in their class – a title neither of them was willing to accept. from that moment on, they became sworn competitors, turning every aspect of their lives into a contest. if seolya enrolled in an extra class, chanhee would eagerly sign up as well, ensuring he arrived five minutes earlier each day. if chanhee joined an a cappella group, seolya would join an acapella group. the concept towards their supposed hatred is simple really, pure competitiveness, a need to always be first. little do they realize that, in their quest for victory, they'll end up placing each other above all else.

𝐉𝐈 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 － 𝖲𝖳𝖴𝖯𝖨𝖣 𝖢𝖴𝖯𝖨𝖣 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!changmin x matchmaker!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : best friends to lovers

oreum and changmin have always been inseparable, a bond as old as their earliest memories. it's as if they're joined at the hip; she faithfully attends all his shows, tirelessly crafting new signs, each attempting to be better than the last to show her support, and he's a constant presence, patiently listening to her excited rants about the latest couple she's helped bring together. you see, oreum has a unique talent for matchmaking, but little did she know, her efforts to find a special someone for changmin would unearth her own hidden emotions. as she embarks on the journey to find love for her best friend, her well-intentioned plan takes an unexpected and bittersweet turn when she realizes her own heart is at stake.

𝐉𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍 － 𝖳𝖠𝖫𝖪 𝖳𝖮 𝖬𝖤 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!haknyeon x bella!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : secret admirer

chowha is a rule follower, she'll do anything to abide to what's expected from her and perform in a way that doesn't leave room for criticism. it's needless to say that she took the vow "i promise to never engage in any romantic relationship with a troublemaker, or else my vocal cords will be torn out by wolves" quite seriously. thanks to her unwavering self-discipline, she didn't respond well to romantic advances made by haknyeon, a treblemaker, especially when they were made publicly. however, chohwa soon found herself delighted by the daily letters received from her secret admirer, eagerly awaiting the moment they would reveal their identity. now, what's a goody two shoes like chohwa supposed to do when she realizes she's been breaking the rules for months and has enjoyed every moment of it?

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎 － 𝖬𝖸 𝖲𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖥𝖠𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!sunwoo x student!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : fake dating

it's quite unfortunate, but following nayoung's breakup with a member of the high notes, she ended up being branded as the "campus' designated acapella groupie," as if that even exists. true to her nature, she decided to counter the groundless rumors created by her spiteful ex, with the assistance of her good friend sunwoo. nayoung was quick to convince to convince him into playing the role of her new boyfriend, although it didn’t take him long to get on board with the idea, much to her disappointment, as she had a whole speech prepared for the occasion. now, all that remains is to witness that smug smile on her ex's face fade away as he witnesses her embracing her newfound title, which seems straightforward enough, were it not for unexpected emotions entering the equation

𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐎𝐇𝐍 － 𝖫𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳 𝖬𝖤 𝖴𝖯 ！

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!eric x bella!oc

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 : he fell first, she fell harder

the bellas and the treblemakers don't mix. sure, feifei has witnessed her fair share of fellow bellas sneak around with treblemakers to the extent that it's now more of a norm than a forbidden union between the two groups. however, feifei remains indifferent. she joined the bellas to sing, not to be part of a cliché romeo and juliet-like love story. so, when eric initiates his pursuit of her, she'll go to great lengths just to make him shut up. eric's advances are relentless, almost bordering on being stalker-like, yet there's a certain sweetness to them, even if she'd never admit it. feifei is stubborn, but can she truly ignore eric's constant declarations of love, even though their interactions are scarce? what can she say? curiosity killed the cat.

comments and reposts are appreciated + my asks are always open!! i’m soso excited to start this omg

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! (𝗈𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇!) | 𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 !

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋）：𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝖺𝖾 | 𝗃𝗎𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇 | 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇 | 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗈𝖻 | 𝗍𝖻𝖺！

[loverseon]

SOUL SWAP .ᐟ masterlist coming soon ᯓ★

pairing female reader x ???

genre royal au, fantasy, kinda mystery ish

synopsis you wake up in a bedroom thats not your own. curtains that arent your own, bed thats not your own. a life thats not your own. no one around you seems to take you very seriously when you try and explain that youre… not exactly who they think you are. but hey, who are you to complain when everywhere you look theres a handsome man who wants you?

word count tbd (around 30k+)

warnings angst, fluff, themes of death, suggestive (tbz being sexy what can i say) cursing, slow burn, gradual pairing reveal, will add more tags as we progress

teaser one moodboard playlist

part i. the dream of the golden bedroom

part ii. the hero of the first water

part iii. the saviour of the fallen

part iv. the master of the wild

part v. the commander of the gods

part vi. the ceremony of the conqueror

part vii. the end of the beginning

part viii. epilogue: the princess of stars

a/n shakes u by the shoulders ohhhh its happeninf its happeningg

[lovesickheize]

𔘓 sex with the boyz based on tarot . . .

maknae line version ( kevin new q haknyeon sunwoo eric )

kevin moon:

really hot and sudden sex, an amazing sexual partner, understands his s/o's needs and desires and is up to bring them in the sheets if that makes them happy.

probably likes to top/dom.

mutual masturbation.

any lack of confidence (either his or his s/o's) will disappear. worshipping/praising. needs constant validation.

amazing aftercare, definitely sweet and funny.

gets jealous easily

looking for his true soulmate

choi chanhee (new):

lots of good sex, bringing new kinks in the sheets, creative sexually and doesn't mind if things don't turn out the way they are supposed to. experimentalist.

into one night stands. not very selective when it comes to partners (prefers strong and powerful ones), prone to infidelity, risk taker. not good for any long term deal.

probably has a dark secret or experience that made him act the way he does, related to him becoming a part of someone's happiness feels like a loss of freedom.

sweet lies and "darker seductive side" definitely heighten libido.

extreme passion and lust.

constantly looking for people to satisfy his needs, has probably turned into an addiction.

feminine energy, probably a sub/bottom.

ji changmin (q):

something abt it confuses him, but he is filled with good energy and ready for anything.

trust issues / intense jealousy. jealous/angry sex

passion, lust, dazzling in the sheets.

HIGH SEX DRIVE. continually on the lookout for others to help him satisfy this need of his.

cozy, prefers indoors sex, not really into exhibitionism.

sensuous, generous and will take care of his s/o's sexual needs and desires.

willing to put time and effort into understanding his s/o's needs, but finds it difficult to show his true feelings/kinks or own needs. likes giving more than receiving.

adventurous, experimentalist.

needs changes every now and then. 100% switch. can be full on vanilla one day and full on bdsm the next. otherwise he gets bored easily.

ju haknyeon:

isn't exactly sure about what he wants/likes, seems a bit inexperienced.

he still doesn't feel ready to go all in. he feels the need to take some time to think abt his likes and dislikes, what he is okay with and what he's not.

imaginative in the bedroom, and ready to play along with his s/o's fantasies, as long as they are not extreme.

romantic dates are often following by romantic sex. he isn't having sex, he's making love.

he might have been into one night stands for a while now, but he realised they don't really help him evolve sexually and emotionally.

he feels the need to spice up things, he's bored. however, he is still carrying his ex-partner's negativity and bad energy. he's not confident in the sheets anymore, might feel unloved.

he needs to feel loved and appreciated during sex. kinda surprised when he realises people are sexually attracted to him. into praising and body worship (mostly receiving).

kim sunwoo:

100% dominant & raw.

a lot of unachievable sexual fantasies and desires. sexually at a dead end; doesnt know exactly what or how he wants it. might be an experimentalist.

seeking for something prohibited, something exciting that's not allowed to be done. may be an exhibitionist.

threesomes!

stains ur mind. sex w sunwoo is a once in a lifetime type of experience (not bcz he is an idol, but bcz it's rare to find people as sexually active and excited as him).

hiding passion/desire bcz hes scared of norms. might be linked to a sexual trauma or a sexual experience he would rather forget. has certain sexual fantasies but is too shy to express them in a relationship.

sex filled with passion. teenager-like sex with great stamina. sexual adventures with a fun-loving person.

kinky ASF. is in search of someone that can spice up his sex life as much as he needs & make him confident. might be a sadist.

sometimes forgets to do basic stuff to get his s/o ready for what's abt to happen, hes too caught up and crazy-horny, gets right into the main thing.

might cheat. he is not fully emotionally available, might be up for an open relationship, cannot stand being repressed and values sex more than the romantic aspect of the relationship. he WILL cheat/break up if his sexual needs arent satisfied.

sohn youngjae (eric):

good energy, great sexual encounters.

might introduce something new into your sex life. exploring new fantasies and successfully taking them to the next level. experimentalist.

open to fresh ideas but has to talk abt them before practicing them.

he won't let you have bad thoughts about your appearance. is probably into body worshipping and praising (giving & receiving).

great balance: stability and nurturing energy. absolute harmony, great creativity. slight boy energy, but can go into dom mode rlly quickly. basically 100% switch.

angry sex & letting frustration go this way. probably gets jealous easily, likes marking.

• high sex drive.

i hope you liked my first tarot related post as much as i enjoyed the process<3 any feedback will be appreciated & requests are open!

-lita.

[from-izzy]

that's him, that's just who he is | tbz choi chanhee | new

"At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

​PAIRING » tbz choi chanhee (new) x gn!reader (proofread twice—lmk if i made a mistake!)​ TROPE/AU » ​friends 2 strangers, highschool au!, non-idol au!, idol au! (chanhee towards the end) GENRE​ » angsty angst angst, unread messages, comforting friendship, supporting friendship, you both attend the same music academy, you both are preparing to become celebrities/idols! WORD COUNT » 4168 (no seriously, 2k word limit who?) ESTIMATED READING TIME » 15 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » financial difficulties, stress relating to: money, music, balancing friendships-work-school, upwards comparisons, failure at achieving dream job (reader's side), unsupportive teachers

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

my third story! i take it back when i said that the second is my favourite story because this is my new (no pun intended) favourite story. i had to stop multiple times because it hit me too many times 🥹👍

well...the self insert is really real here 🫂 and this got seriously personal (let's see how many times i say this with this series 👀)

big respect to chanhee for balancing his education, preparing to be an idol and having a part time job 🫂 i respect him so much

thank you for reading honey bee ☘️🐝 @sanaxo-o and happiest birthday to you!! this story isn't much of a gift since you've read it before but there is the other one hehe 💕

Unlike most of your other lessons, this one passed by as quickly as a blink of an eye. It might be because the air conditioner in the room was set to the perfect temperature or the way the tie around your collar didn’t suffocate you too much or maybe, it was the way that you were practically showered with a bunch of compliments as soon as you took a deep breath from your diaphragm, lifted your cheekbones and sung your heart out.

Swiftly, you smile at the affirming nods that your teacher gave you, writing down her notes to the three-minute performance that you were assigned to for the last month. Across the whole month, you recall the way the tip of the pen scratches the plastic board vigorously, tapping rapidly and furiously throughout the longest three minutes of your life. Usually, you would be assigned a new song every three weeks or have two songs to practice for five weeks. On the times that you didn’t succeed, it would be a hell lot of criticism, tears and punches on the wall as soon as you exited the small studio. Heck, even with the times when the tears made it out in the room, you could tell that even though she toned down her volume, those eyes looked at you no further than disinterest—sometimes she would unmistakably roll her eyes too.

It has always been in short, sickening.

Those were the times that you wanted to just rip out your vocal cords, swear that you would never sing again, not that you even could at that point, and run away from the one thing that gave you life in your tiring days.

“Pick a song.”

The statement made your head slightly crane forward towards your suddenly easygoing teacher. You let out a confusing hum and question to which she responds with an amused smile.

“I can…choose?”

“You can’t truly be a singer if you don’t know what songs fit you best or if you need someone to pick what songs you should sing. You don’t have to choose a challenging song yet. You’ve been singing for the past half year and you’re good at it, but you really only found your style recently and I would rather you focus on further developing it.” She shrugs leisurely after, “It’s up to you though.”

Either way, I’m still going to get paid.

Numerous song titles juggle in your mind, the different lyrics and tunes playing in your head as the memories of your lives flash through their respective melodies. However, it wasn’t easy for your mouth to announce any of the songs, your mind thinking of all the technicalities within each song that would definitely challenge the fragile, insecure side of you.

But art is a special type of hobby.

It’s one of those hobbies that no one would ever be able to ‘perfect’. Somebody would always criticise and pick it apart ruthlessly—and you would always have to pick up their words and carry them deep within your heart.

“Are you sure?” The way that she tilts her head to the side after writing down your choice says everything.

But you stood your ground.

You’ve been in love with this song for so long and all you wanted to do was to learn it properly. Who knows when you’ll be given the chance to pick again? So, with the bravest smile and the most convincing nod that your shaking body could give, she does her final notes on that worn-out notebook of hers. She also recites your homework and expectations for the next lesson before excusing your presence from the room.

You couldn't wait to scream the excitement out of your body, tell your parents and your best friend about what just happened, analyse the song and its technical aspec—

"I just don't think you'll make it."

You halt your steps and your journey. For such a good music academy, these rooms seriously needed thicker walls. You were genuinely surprised that you were still able to focus on your lessons (most of the time) through all the electric guitar, drum kits and unfortunately, other singers who were unable to hit those certain high notes.

It's times like these that you wish the academy could invest in their building more. You were lucky that your lesson room is located at the end of the hallway meaning that your criticism could only be heard by you, the teacher and maybe the two rooms in front and beside yours.

Chanhee wasn't so fortunate, being at the very front, the first door on the left. It left him vulnerable. The voice cracks, the times when he would go off tune or the rare times when he missed his count. It would all mercilessly be heard by anyone who would pass by just to go to the toilet or refill their empty, cold coffee mug.

You stood next to the wall where the glass doors of the lesson door, biting your bottom lip and you noticed how Chanhee wouldn’t even say anything to his teacher’s words. You could imagine how he had his head hung low, nodding occasionally at the words and was forced to repeat the same line over and over and over again until he got it right. You prayed silently in your heart and mind that time would go quicker for him so that he could walk out, breathe in some fresh air and take a break from the suffocating practice room.

When the door clicks open, Chanhee has that tired, sad smile to you that he gives most of the time. Your eyebrows fell a little but you were still able to give him an encouraging one back.

“No?” You asked even though you very much knew the answer.

“No.” He quietly affirms after a short pause.

“I’m still proud of you though.” Just like any other day at school, after lessons or any other time, you lightly punch his shoulder, him chuckling and shoving you back. “I guess…that’s why they’re called ‘lessons’ after all.”

The realisation of your words made Chanhee groan. Lessons that are made throughout a lifetime—one that he has been attending for a year and a half unlike you who only started at the start of the year. He gave up his time with his friends, time to study which most of society thinks is the best way to secure a well-financed job, and gave up his money to buy clothes for himself that he just walked past whenever he knew he would get tempted. All those part-time jobs, ones that would go late into the still busy nights of Seoul or the ones early in the morning before school when most people would still be snoring, were all done with his dream that someday his voice would be heard by the world.

“How did yours go?”

You know that you should just be truthful. You both have been stuck to the hip for the last few years and Chanhee is not an easy person to deceive. Plus, you need to take into consideration as well of lying at this current moment. You didn’t want Chanhee to think that you were trying to make him feel better by potentially pitying him. What good would that bring to anyone right now in this situation? That’s not what friends do.

“I was given a chance to choose a song.” The small genuine, congratulatory smile that Chanhee gives makes you relax your back into the wall further, the tension easing away from your body. “I also managed to get through that vocal run that I’ve been agonising and crying to you about for the past week.” You slump your body against the wall as you recall your homework, “But she gave me more scales to use as runs for practice.”

“Scales really do suck.” Chanhee whispers to you teasingly, once again getting pushed by you.

“Yeah.” You acknowledge shortly after. “But it does help me with my breathing and flexibility which I highly suck at.”

“Hey,” he scolds your words lightly, “at least you have a distinctive sound and know how to put emotions according to the sound. My teacher just said I sound generic.”

Yes. That description for Chanhee—no, just any singer—is weird and you would dare to say, highly misleading.

If we’re talking about musical terms, every single singer has a unique timbre. Even if the note stays the same, every person will have a different tone colour because well, every person is different. Saying that a singer has a generic voice, highly contradicts the definite concept of instrument timbre.

You know how much this troubled Chanhee even though he tries his best to hide it. The comments about his timbre have been repeated so many times that it’s got to him a lot. In the beginning, he would just smile bitterly and indicate that he wouldn’t want to talk about the lesson, kicking the group of stones on the pathway to release his anger. However, as you both grew closer after an assigned duet performance, he was able to open up to you little by little, slowly but surely, keeping the friendship that grew even after you did your ending bow to the audience. He would still hide a little bit of his feelings to himself, embarrassed that he would talk about himself even though you reassured him that it was completely fine.

To him, how others see him is the most important thing for him. From the compliments that would grow the contagious smile on his face, to the heartbreaking crying scenes that he would hide from the rest of the world, all those words he took to heart so that he could improve himself as a person—and in this case, as an artist. In this harsh world, the words that would be spat out by teachers would be so deeply etched in a person’s heart that all of a sudden, giving up everything that they have worked so hard for would be easier done.

It’s during those times that you and Chanhee would lean on each other, reassuring each other not to run away from the weekly lessons and giving comfort after each one. Chanhee is internally grateful for the times that you would hold his shoulders, lightly shaking his frail, tired body before giving him words of encouragement. He would do a similar thing for you when you feel like you didn’t progress, stopping your self-criticism and pushing you to keep going. To you, he would just let you cry on his shoulder as you hug him tight, patting your back calmingly.

The light snowing season greets the both of you as soon as you exit the building. For you, your next destination is home but for Chanhee, ninety-eight percent of the time it would be his job at the barbeque restaurant, the seafood restaurant or even that new Chinese restaurant that he recently just started.

Given the good results of your lesson, you selfishly wanted to have some fun but the words died down in your throat when you slightly turned your head towards your friend. His black hair still peaked out from the beanie that kept both of his ears warm, the scarf that you gifted him hid the slight downturn of his lips and the physical expression of his heavy heart. His eyelashes fluttered away the snowflakes in the cold but still bright night and his rosy cheeks only grew brighter and more evident the slower the journey to your next destination would take.

“Just a little penguin in his somewhat natural habitat?” Your attempt to get a response out from him is successful when you see his cheekbones rise—the same way that they would rise whenever he sings his heart out.

“What a way to start a conversation.”

Your heart lightens at your successful attempt, linking your right arm with his as you continue to walk down the still-shared path that makes the distance between all your worries and yourself further away. However, like all journeys, you finally arrive at that one spot.

The one that split into two different roads, unlike the one you have been walking a few minutes ago.

The right road would take you both to safety, warmth and relaxation.

The left road would force you to unlink Chanhee’s arm, sending him to the busy, loud civilisation where he would put on his apron and raise the pitch of his voice fit for customer service.

“Are you…off to work?” He senses the sadness lingering in your voice and the way your right hand tightens around his forearm even through the thick, winter clothes.

“…yeah.”

“I see.” You managed to muster a stable response tone. “Come on, I’ll drop you there.” You turn your body towards the crowd but can’t go too far due to the other set of feet that stays grounded on the worn-down, cold stone floor, “Chanhee?”

“Maybe…” Suddenly, the sky starts to sprinkle down its pretty shapes of ice. “I’m just not meant to be a singer.”

You gasp quietly, the faint white exhale slowly disappearing behind the dark background. Seeing the tears finally slide down his cheeks made you realise one thing: he’s opening up. He’s doing the thing that he has tried to hide from everyone. In tune with his emotions, your eyes started to build their layer of moisture, the wind making it harder for you to keep your tears in. You couldn’t think straight, your free arm wiping your eyes to rid the hardships from your face while trying to give Chanhee words of encouragement.

“You’re going to get ther—”

“What if you had to give up so much,” He cut you off, gasping and inhaling more air to accommodate his crying, “earn so much money, gave it away and it didn’t give you good results? Whatever it may be…An event, a trip, an investment.” His voice gradually trails off as he lists life occurrences.

You’ve thought about the same thing thousands of times, back and forth, no matter where, when and who you were with. In a world where pursuing art can be a hard, long path, what would happen if nothing good were to come out of it? All your hard work, all your money, all your time…you’ll never be able to get those back.

Is it worth it? Is it worth the gamble?

“I would probably beat myself over it.” You tried to keep your whimpers at bay as you confessed the same answer that would come back every time you went on your downward spiral, “I would most probably always question why I did what I did. If I did the event with someone, and for some reason, they were the ones that made the situation bad, then I would’ve gone back and forth, asking myself if it was worth it. Why didn’t I go alone? Why was I so scared? What was I so scared of?”

Should you move to a different academy? But your teacher is well known. Should you still do it anyway? Knowing that you had to go through many processes and hardships to even get lessons with this teacher. Even if most of the time, you felt like giving up music, surely her experience would lead you to someplace good…right?

“But then…would answering those questions lead to happiness?” Chanhee scoffs at his absurd thoughts. Tilting his head to the sky, he relishes the way the snowflakes land on his pale skin, disappearing when they touch his skin, the side branches melting into his warmth. “Even after answering the question, would you be able to know what to do next? What would it lead to?”

Even though Chanhee was the first one to cry and break down, your wails were louder the more his words resonated within you, touching the parts of your heart that you never wanted to say out loud, scared of where and how your unconscious mind would take you. With everything in him, he untangles his arms to wrap them around your neck, patting the back of your head as you cry on his shoulder. He also lets his tears soak your scarf, resting his cheek on his arm and his chapped wavering lips rubbing against the delicate wool of your scarf, trying his best to soften his cries.

“I just…” One of his hands pats your back, giving you his comfort—even though he probably needed it more than you, “Music and singing used to be happiness that could fit in my pocket. It felt secure and safe. I could just put on my earphones and I’ll feel happy.” You notice the tighter hold after, “But music grew too fast and too big for me that I couldn’t catch up with it anymore.”

You only nod to his words, knowing how much Chanhee sacrificed to pay for his lessons. Some judged him, calling him stuck up and selfish even though they knew that he was independent in his journey to become a singer. It pains you to hear those words come out as scoffs and laughter and soon enough, you hold his hand and cut ties with them all, leaving their flabbergasted faces behind.

The sky starts to cry with you both beautifully in the form of its unique icy shapes. You both watch the snowflakes disappear on the ground, on each other clothing, on your noses. Finding the strength and breath to continue, you slowly push your body away, wiping the last bit of your tears to face your best friend straight into his eyes.

“You’re going to find happiness that you can rely on, Chanhee.” You couldn’t see his lips but you were sure that it was pouting and shivering, “It may be music or it may be something that music brings you. It may be the stage or maybe people who you will come to work with or maybe the people who will cheer you on but I’m sure you’ll find it soon.”

Even with the bustling environment around you both, there was no way that you could have missed his muttering, especially with the white puff of air, “At this rate…”

He feels the weight and pressure of your palms on both his shoulders but he still looks down to the ground where the snow slowly buries the sides of his shoes, “I promise you that if you keep going, I don’t have a single doubt that you’ll find your style. Regardless of what your crappy teacher says, you’re unique and I love your voice.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Wiping the lone tear on his cheek, “The world is going to be amazed when they hear your voice and I'm sure you'll be a good influence to them.”

For the first time in the day, Chanhee finally smiled. You observe the way his eyes disappear into pretty little upside-down moons. His head tilts back slightly, revealing the upturned corner of his lips behind the scarf that kept him warm and his teeth shine brighter with the help of the light from the marketplace behind you. Your hands were able to finally relax and mirrored the same expression back to your now radiant friend.

“Promise me that we’ll stand on the same stage someday.”

But life plays a twisted fate on you both and loves to put more pressure than you can ever carry. Having to move to a different school and a different region is not on your list of expectations. You argued endlessly about the decision to move, feeling unfair that none of your opinions mattered to them as they relentlessly started to look for moving trucks to hire. With the good offer that your dad received and realising that the youngest in the family had no final say, you tried your best to hold back the tears when telling Chanhee the news.

He cries for you and himself, already imagining the loneliness of walking to the music academy after a long day of school and the drags of his feet across the gravel in the night after each lesson. You assured him that you would call often and unlike you, he promised you the same thing. Time told you both that your friendship was still strong despite the physical distance between you both and with time, so did both your musical skills.

The trade-off for talent in your friendship is the less frequent phone calls and text messages. It was decreasing steadily and slowly until eventually, there was no more red dot beside his name on your phone even though you're sure there would be one beside your name on his. When sadness turned into confusion, then morphed into anger, hate and bitterness whenever someone asked you about him, you still found yourself swiping through your many photos with him. Just like how he cries on your last day, you cry from the silence of him.

Thankfully, time did heal your heart even though you couldn’t find a friend like him ever again. Things have changed for you and you were sure that it was the same for Chanhee. You grew taller, changed your hairstyle, hobbies, dreams and aspirations. What time didn’t seem to change however was the delivered sign that never changed with your messages. You let it go and went on with your life.

When you did come back to Seoul, you realised that the city had changed drastically. You wondered if it’s really that or if you were just struggling to remember the city that you once walked around in every day. But unlike your thoughts, maybe Seoul did change drastically. Amid the new but still bustling environment, there was this one cafe that was incredibly packed. Needing to get away from the cold, you entered to be greeted with a well-decorated interior and the gold ‘Happy Birthday New’ balloon shines brightly, especially with the light that is right above it. Many were posing in front of the gold foil fringe backdrop.

You almost didn’t recognise the boy in the picture. You don’t remember when you took your scarf off and picked up a random framed picture in the frame before picking up another one next to it, and another one, and another one. Each showed his growth. You could tell not only from his appearance but also from the bigger stage that he performed along with ten other boys. Suddenly, it clicks and it all makes sense. Hearing everyone else around you talk about him fondly took away the heavy weight that his name brought and a new feeling overtook your heart.

For the first time in a very long time, seeing his face made you smile and it didn’t hurt.

Your phone slides into your shaking hands, swipe open the camera app from the lock screen and point it at the framed picture in your hand, “At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

You know from the laughter in the space, the feeling of the radiant energy of those around you and the happiness on people’s faces as they point their cameras to their fanmade goods and the interior of the place, that Choi Chanhee has done it. The stage looked extremely good on him, even if the light was too bright and he looked so pale sometimes.

“I’m glad it was you.”

You whisper somewhat solemnly and with a bit of jealousy. Your clenched fist is a puny attempt in trying to keep your tears from expressing the hurt that suddenly hit you as you recall that moment in your life. The multiple rejections to the companies that you auditioned for, the way people on the streets pass by more frequently as their ears and eyes are focused on other’s performances—the night where you listed all your musical instruments for sale and promised that you would never sing ever again.

“You shy, talented, loveable penguin.” And it would seem that his fans agree with the chosen animal with the pouting blue penguin on top of his head. “That’s just who you are, Chanhee.”

Maybe the fame wasn’t for you. Shortly after moving, you found out that the stage was more of a hobby, especially with how you just wanted to stand on stage but never wanted to practise and study music theory properly. You just wanted to shout out the lyrics and sentimentally sing the lyrics of existing songs instead of having your name in an album or next to the credits and royalty rights to the song. But knowing that it fit Chanhee well, it was more than enough for you. He may not have known it before but you wish with all your being that he knows his capability to make others smile, including you.

Even if your broken smile is within millions that he probably would never see from the podium that rightfully held him high.

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[astrae4]

jealousy is a disease | choi chanhee

pairings — idol!chanhee x idol!reader

genre — romance, comedy, humor, fluff, and angst if you consider jealousy as that..?

warnings — signs of possessiveness and jealousy, and a bit of slight suggestiveness (kissing)

note — 200 followers special 🤍 Thank you so much for the support, my loves~ I appreciate each and every one of you so thank you for supporting me too! Let’s continue to be closer to each other in the future (´ε｀ ʃƪ)

more works — masterlist | tbz!masterlist

WHAT WOULD YOU DO if your beloved was being dispatched with “another man” right this instance just because dispatch can’t even recognize the right man?

“TXT’s Beomgyu? What?! We don’t even look alike!” He fumed, “and for the record you two wouldn’t look good together!”

You stood by the door frames, amused as you watched your little penguin throw a tantrum and vent his anger out on his pillow.

“Well, being caught by dispatch is still a bad situation, baby. Even if we got exposed correctly.”

“Yeah but.! but…UGH” he exclaimed, burying his head in the poor pillow.

You walked up to him and sat on the bed, making it droop. Even when Chanhee felt your presence on the bed, he didn’t move to look at you, still sulking.

“Baby,” you called, running your hands on his hair.

Finally, he turned to you, letting out a small whine in the process. Even though you know you shouldn’t, all you could look at was his puffy lips (which was still pouting by the way).

He seemed to have noticed.

Without a warning, he went on top of you, both hands beside your head. You’re startled, but immediately made your hands home to his shoulder.

“What—” you didn’t get to finish your sentence as he cut you off with a kiss, your right hand naturally going to his cheek.

Chanhee felt breathless, as if all rationalism was sucked out of him as all he could think about was making the world know you’re his. All he could feel was your soft lips on his.

his his his his his his his

After awhile, you tapped his shoulder as you were running out of breath; and both of you let go of each other, panting.

He gave one last kiss on your cheek, this time way softer and sweet than the one before, before snuggling his head into your neck.

With a muffled voice, he asked you sweetly, “Mine..?”

You exasperated with humor, “Yes darling, all yours.”

taglist — @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @luvhyun3 @kyusqult @deoboyznet

© astrae4 2023 | please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[cloverdaisies]

BLACK HEARTS - L.SY C.CH L.JY

description: a mysterious trio rules the night, masked in balaclavas armed with whatever they could get their hands on… one favor can reveal a whole lot more than you expect. this is not your first visit to the black hearted universe.

member: sangyeon, chanhee, juyeon x you

genre: angst!action!crime!au!

channel: @deoboyznet

warnings: violence! triggering scenes! reader discretion is advised.

a/n: big thank you to @winterchimez and @heemingyu for helping to curate the ideas to write this piece !! i challenged myself to write this in an hour !! which i just about achieved !! i just had a moment where i was like guys let’s put our brains together and that idea of spontaneity is what makes pieces like this special!

When imagining criminal talk, you imagine murder, guns, the same cold-hearted clichè you hear on the silver screen, however when encountering brains that are not well developed enough to find full time jobs to be honorable members of society you find conversations like these:

“I’m literally batman.” Sangyeon spits across the passenger seat where Juyeon is busy groaning in annoyance, left palm rested on his head.

“No because that would mean I’m robin which is just so wrong.” Juyeon retorted, looking out to the road ahead ignoring the disappointment from Chanhee who had the courtesy of listening to these imbecilic conversations in the back seat.

“Guys-” Chanhee began but was shortly cut off.

“I would be batman.”

“No you wouldn’t, I’m batman.”

“Literally how? I’m batman.”

“Guys?” Chanhee couldn’t seem to get a word in between the two grown men as they drove to their destination, seemingly forgetting all about any plans or what they had to do. “You both are batman, I’m robin.”

Being the only one with a degree in computer science and the brains to execute any plans, Chanhee didn’t mind being robin as long as it settled the childish arguments between the two.

“We’re 5 minutes out, I’ve got into the security systems and disabled the CCTV cameras so we should be good to go. The place closes in 10.” Finally getting his words heard, the other two boys nodded and Sangyeon stepped on the gas - a wide cheshire cat grin spread across his face.

The night was a deep navy, the clouds wrapping up the silver crescent moon in a soft grey blanket, the street lights flickered as the wind hurled and whistled like the sound of pained ghosts.

A small café, bar at night, dimly lit with warm lights stood out from the other stores on 7th street, the place always did well and attracted customers from all over the globe with its homemade goods, in house brewery and highly prestigious aesthetics.

You were working your late shift that night and if you hadn’t noticed the red security light on the cameras begin blinking and suddenly going out - you’d have no reason to believe anything was wrong.

On the phone to your manager, you frantically began asking whether the security had been breached, as you couldn’t get on the till machine to view the stores earnings either - being the lazy old man who you’d woke up from his beauty sleep, he of course began yelling and being entirely unhelpful.

“I’m telling you, I can’t get on to the checkout the lights on the cameras have gone off, I’m scared this hasn’t happened before.” You try to your best to explain how dire the situation was but it was clearly landing on deaf ears.

“Y/N, it must happen all the time. I’m going back to bed I don’t have time for your shit this evening.” With that he hung up, leaving you afraid and the sound of tires screeching from behind the glass window pane had made everything you suspected feel as if it was coming true.

Frantically you got down behind the counter, making an attempt to press the panic alarm but failing as the sound of the door being shattered into tiny crystals screamed through the store, masking your whimpers you kept a tight grip of your mouth.

“Hey kitty cat? You can come out we know you’re here.” A low voice purred, already mapping out the sequence of your death you kept quiet and tried to prolong the moment.

“Come on birdy, you can’t hide.” With that two feet landed in front of you with a slam, a man dressed in all black, features covered by a balaclava crouched in front of you, a pair of unsettlingly familiar cat eyes smiling at you. He reached out, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth. “You know, I won’t hurt you, we just want some cash darling.”

In his right hand was a smaller gun which he didn’t point directly at you, he just led you to the counter where you hadn’t transported the money to the safe yet.

You opened it allowing him to grab all the cash you’d made that day and stuff it into the duffel bag the other was holding.

“Thanks, princess.” The other zipped up the bag, noting the sound of sirens beckoning in the distance.

Since you were unharmed, you didn’t really care that they’d stolen all the money you’d earned that day, after all you never saw a penny of it anyways. However, you’d realized there was a third man in the mix, slightly daintier in frame who rushed out of the private stairwell carrying an arm load of cash stolen from the high security safe upstairs - how did he even get in there?

The sirens closed in, they began to panic as the red and blue flashes closed in on the store.

“Go out the back. It’s unlocked.” You had no idea why you’d told them that, however something in your conscience told you to, whether the devil on your shoulder had told you or you genuinely hated your job that much.

“Why?-” The familiar cat eyes asked, whilst the doe eyed one also stared in confusion over at you.

“Guys there’s no time let’s go.” The muscle of the group barged through the back door, just in time for officers to breach the building.

“Are you unharmed? Are the perpetrators still in the building?” An officer with a megaphone yelled into the store, you did the standard procedure and walked out with your hands in the air.

The last thing you expected was to be grounded to the floor by an officer, your face hitting the pavement lightly with your hands behind your back.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” The officer spoke in a gruff voice, screaming to stop resisting as you laid confused.

“I literally work here. I didn’t do anything.”

“Ma’am this store closed hours ago, you have no-”

A shot, a deafening shot that began a frenzy, the officer behind you fell to the floor before you were grabbed and within half a millisecond told to sprint.

A jet black Mercedes had blocked the main road, the sound of chaos erupting behind you, before the door opened and you were let in. The driver sped to the scene before your saviour swept into the passenger seat, if they'd been able to send more police cars there would have been a high likelihood you'd have never gotten away. However, leaving the scene the immense stomach feeling of guilt consumed you.

"You killed a man? Why would you do that?" You yelled suddenly as a silence grew across the men that had gotten you in to the situation.

"Hey, I didn't kill him, it’s not fatal he’ll be fine.” Pulling off the mask, cat eyes revealed himself, his black hair, sharp gestures and sultry voice. Juyeon Lee? You almost couldn’t believe your eyes.. nevermind look at his.

“Besides he would have either killed you or you’d be behind bars. No state attorney would give you a good time in court, we’re just repaying the favor.” Also ripping off his balaclava the driver looked back at you in your seat, his honey skin and deep brown eyes. Sangyeon?

“Do you guys have no sympathy? Is this what you’re doing with your lives now?” You asked distraught over the entire situation that had unfolded.

“Sometimes it’s safer to be feared than loved, y/n.” Sangyeon looked back, a sadistic grin painted across his lips as he almost looked down on your tears.

“Just be quiet and we’ll talk more when we get back. Sangyeon drive.” The boy next to you spoke, his eyes engrossed in the laptop in front of him. He had a more ethereal appearance than the others almost fairy-like which must be a great disguise of innocence for the life he lived. Possibly the most shocking reveal of them all, Chanhee Choi.

Despite feeling as if your entire world had collapsed in front of you and the wavering feelings of guilt eating you up like a lion to steak, somehow it was the most alive you felt in a long time. However the most shocking reveal of this entire encounter was that the same people you’d went to high school with, were living double lives as some of the most notorious criminals in the city.

As you’d arrived a small home located in the middle of a forest area you hadn’t recognized before, the same familiar cat eyes had something to say after the others had already wandered inside.

“I don’t want to be anywhere near you.” You looked at Juyeon seriously folding your arms, had you not had history you probably would have been more grateful for his actions tonight.

“That was years ago, darling. Do you think I still love you? Do you think I still care?” He laughed, his teeth curling into a smirk and his tongue poking the side of his jaw.

“Clearly! You jumped in front of an armed police officer you absolute maniac. I was always right about you, you’ve become some kind of psycho, that’s why I broke up with you and why the hell is Chanhee even involved with you?” You yelled, quickly being hushed by his voice as he stepped closer.

Something about meeting an ex after years of being apart can feel awkward, but for you it felt like time never passed. The evil inherently toxic nature of Juyeon was always drawing no matter how much you told yourself no, it was addicting.. those feelings of spite, anger, envy were all things that buried that burning feeling of love.

As he looked at you under the moonlight you’d been reminded of the way his eyes softened, the way that the cold words he choses were always ways of communicating that he cared. He didn’t enjoy that he’d corrupted your life, he thought he was saving you. If you couldn’t bare the weight of your world he would take you into his, he didn’t want to ruin your life.. He’d risk his life for you, since he knew his was a lot less “valuable”, which you continuously told him back then wasn’t true.

“Maybe I do but remember, you wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for me y/n and I told you not to fall in love with me.” He shook his head, looking down at you, tracing his finger across your jaw, bringing back all those feelings of safety you once felt. “There’s nothing left for you but me. Everyone else is gone. It’s always been that way and you know that.”

Unfortunately he was right.

TBC.

[deobienthusiast]

something blue | choi chanhee

• pairing: best friend!chanhee x female!reader

• word count: 3.5k words

• genre: fluff, slight angst

• rating: PG

• warnings: weddings, reader is kind of being an asshole, fake friends, and our favorite curse words

• notes: *sigh* thank you to sana ( @heemingyu )for your not so serious but also super serious betaread of this. now that i know what really gets you going i mean continue to hit at that now😘😘 I LOVE YOU

• tagging: @deoboyznet

• synopsis: after getting into a big fight with your best friend the day before your wedding, you’re left wondering if he’ll even show up.

Whoever said your wedding day is the happiest day of your life is an absolute fucking idiot. What is there to be happy about if everything isn’t perfect. You wouldn’t consider yourself a perfectionist by any means, but when you have a vision for something you expect it to be pretty damn near close.

The process of planning your wedding didn’t start when you got engaged to your amazing fiancé Sangyeon. It started when you were a kid, sitting in your living room watching the Disney princesses who had happy endings and fairytale weddings. You knew you wanted a wedding similar to those of the princesses. Which princess didn’t matter, but as long as the wedding was to your standard of perfection, it would be fine.

Alongside your planning was your best friend, Chanhee. He wasn’t just your best friend. He was your person, or as your fiancé liked to say ‘your soulmate’. You had never really believed in soulmates, but when more and more people pointed out that you and Chanhee could be soulmates, you began to listen. It made sense. Chanhee was always there. From your earliest memories in Kindergarten to graduating college, to getting your dream job. Everywhere page in your mind was littered with your best friend. The small, skinny kid that would bring you pretty blue forget-me-nots every time he saw you. Chanhee helped you plan your dream wedding, combining elements of each Disney princess into one big wedding. He called himself your unofficial wedding planner. He made sure everything would go off without any problems, even threatening to throw out some of your work friends if they got too drunk.

Chanhee even planned your pre-wedding party. When you and your wedding party went out, Chanhee had everything covered. From the party bus, to dinner, to the club, your best friend was on it. Chanhee only wanted the best for his best friend, while you only wanted him to at some point let loose and enjoy himself.

The dinner you and your wedding party went to seemed like such a distant memory now. Despite having been only a couple of hours ago, the amount of alcohol in your system made it seem like dinner was months ago. You and your work friends were trashed, to say the least. Hopping from table to table, stealing people’s drinks, getting heavily belligerent with anyone that tried to stop you. You were on a wrecking ball, wreaking havoc across the club. People were starting to complain to the managers, and Chanhee was just trying to find your purse and shoes that you somehow rid yourself of in the midst of all the madness. His constant apologies were falling on deaf ears as all people wanted now was for you and your rowdy entourage to leave.

“Hey, why don’t we sit and have some water?” Chanhee asked you, having finally caught up to you.

You were once again at a table that was not yours as you took a shot from the hands of one of the guests occupying the table. “Water? I don’t need water, Chanhee. I need more vodka!”

Chanhee gave a sympathetic look to the other partygoers as he spoke. “I’m really sorry. I’m trying my hardest to get everything under control.”

The guest who’s drink had been stolen scoffed. “Try harder dude. This is ridiculous.”

The people at the table stood up, moving from the area as Chanhee began to get frustrated. You had never acted like this before. He always said your work buddies only brought out the worst in you, but you never listened to him. In fact, Chanhee couldn’t even spot any of your so-called work “friends”.

“Where is everyone? I want to hit up another party.” You yelled.

Chanhee grabbed your arm, ripping the glass from your hand as he began to drag you towards the exit. “They left! And that’s what we’re doing.”

On his trek towards the door, Chanhee spotted your shoes and purse, squeezing behind a nasty trash can that they were sitting behind. He let go of you momentarily to make sure your credit cards, ID, and cash were all still in your wallet. As his fingers slipped through the loops of your heels to pick them up, he heard a loud crash. Turning around, a table filled with bottles of vodka had hit the floor and you were now face to face with an angry patreon.

The girl was screaming in your face about how you didn’t need to be drinking anymore, while all you could do was yell back about how she wasn’t the boss of you. You were having a good time, why was everyone trying to stop you. Chanhee pulled you back to him, heading for the door before stopping.

“Shit, the tab.” Chanhee whispered.

You were still yelling over your shoulder to the girl as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his card. He wasn’t even sure what the final bill was, but he was willing to pay for it if it meant getting you out of the club in one piece. The bartender took the card, looking over the slumped over state of you as he shook his head. He swiped the card, pulled out a receipt and handed both the card and receipt to Chanhee. Your best friend let out a sigh as he practically carried you to the exit. When he got outside, he sat you down on the curb as he began to call someone.

“Where are we going?” You asked, your sentence is just barely able to be made out by Chanhee.

The boy looked at you as he rolled his eyes. “The hotel.”

You perked up. “I don’t wanna leave. The girls are still inside.”

Chanhee shook his head. “That’s too bad. They can find their own way back to the hotel.”

“I don’t wanna leave.”

“You are beyond drunk. You can barely stand, you have no shoes on, and you are so fucking lucky someone didn’t rob you. You’ve made a mess of yourself and this club, you have no choice but to leave.” Chanhee said sternly.

The alcohol in your system didn’t like the way he was talking to you. He had never talked to you like this before.

“Why are you being so mean?” You asked rather loudly.

Chanhee let out a humorless laugh. “I’m being honest. You need to go to bed. It’s three in the morning on your wedding day. You have to be up early for breakfast, you have to have your makeup done, you can’t stay out with them any longer.”

He heard you begin to mumble as he began to get impatient. All he wanted to do was get you safely to your hotel suite, and go to bed himself.

Why wasn’t the driver picking up his fucking phone?

“You’re just jealous of them.” You said softly.

Chanhee froze. “What did you just say to me?”

You looked up at the boy, eyes wide as you spoke louder this time. “You are just jealous of my relationship with the girls. I see them everyday, and we don’t see each other every day. They are better best friends to me than you are.”

The phone that was covering his ear was now down by his waist. “How dare you?”

You could only look back at the boy, the realization of your words now dawning on you. “Chanhee,”

“Do you know what I’ve had to go through to make sure your fucking wedding day is perfect? I’ve given up my own personal time to be here and plan EVERYTHING for you. May I remind you that I was the only one that helped you pick out your outfit. I helped pick out the food and recommended the bakery for the cake. I found the DJ, the place for dinner tonight, and the fucking club. I have kept you from getting arrested tonight on more than one occasion. I’ve canceled plans to be at your beck and call anytime that you have ever needed me. I’ve done everything for you from the time we met each other when we were five! No one, and I mean no one, will ever be a better best friend than me.” Chanhee yelled.

Before you could speak, he continued. “Do you think they are better than me? The person that has held your hand through sicknesses, the person who has been there to pick up the pieces through every heartbreak you’ve gone through with shitty guys. I introduced you to Sangyeon. He was my friend first, and yet he seems to be the only one appreciative of what I’ve done, not just for him but for you. Not once have you ever told me thank you for anything. Anything!”

He dropped your shoes, grabbing your hand from the sitting position you were in to smack your purse into it. Chanhee brought a hand up to his forehead, rubbing over it as he began to feel a migraine coming on. He could hear talking on the other end of his phone as he tossed it to you, making you flinch as it hit your chest.

“Find your own way back to the hotel. Or better yet, go ask your best friends since they are better to you than I am. They can get you back to the hotel, and they can help you out in the morning. I’m done!” Chanhee said.

He turned quickly on his feet, walking off in the opposite direction of the club. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you tried to get yourself up to stop your best friend. His legs carried him quickly to a bus that had stopped at a bus stop as he hopped on it. You watched the bus pass you as you let out a sob.

You didn’t sleep very well when you got back from the club. All you did was cry over what Chanhee had said, and your work friends were beginning to get annoyed. They merely dropped you off at your suite and left to continue their night. All you could do is sit against the headboard of the hotel bed as you looked around the lavish room that your best friend had spent his hard earned money on, reminding you that as the bride you “deserve the best”. Now you weren’t so sure.

The alarm on your phone went off, signaling that you needed to get up, but you didn’t really have the energy. In fact, you weren’t even sure you wanted to get married. You knew that wouldn’t be fair to Sangyeon, calling off your wedding over the fact that you got into a fight with your best friend. Although Sangyeon would’ve understood, you couldn’t do it to him. A knock at your room door pulled you from your thoughts as you groaned, dragging your body weight out of the bed.

You looked through the peephole on the door and groaned again, seeing the cheery face of your mother and future mother in law. Opening the door, both ladies squealed.

“Happy wedding day!” Your mother exclaimed happily as she pulled you in for a hug.

Sangyeon’s mom did the same before pulling back just slightly, whispering to you. “Are you okay dear?”

You looked at the woman, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You gave her a nod, trying to force a smile on your face. She wanted to speak again before your mom interrupted.

“You need to shower, and you need to be quick. Makeup won’t wait all day. And all day isn’t what we have time wise.” She said, pushing you into the bathroom.

The only sound that left your mouth was a sigh as you let your mother practically manhandle you into the shower. She was quick to pick up your pajamas that you don’t even remember getting into last night as she exited, leaving you to wallow in your own self pity as the hot water cascaded onto your skin. You slowly washed your body, attempting to scrub the dead skin, sweat, and the memories from last night off of your body and down the drain. You weren’t sure how long you were in the shower, having at some point zoned out. The water had gone cold, and you were beginning to shiver as you turned the handle, shutting off the shower.

When you pulled back the curtain, the remaining steam from the previously hot water was still fogging up the bathroom. You could see it get pushed around from the sudden release of cold air from the cold water. You noticed a towel and satin bathrobe set upon the countertop. Reaching for both, you quickly dried off and threw on the bathrobe before opening the bathroom door and letting your mother whisk you off to your makeup appointment.

The day dragged on. All your work friends managed to make it to the venue for hair and makeup. Strolling into the building wielding water, liquid IV packages, sunglasses, and a hangover, they didn’t look very pleased anymore about the time you chose for all of this. They let the artists get them ready with no complaints, just barely sparing you a hello. You weren’t all that thrilled to see them either, so this didn’t bother you a bit. Your mother was making her rounds, checking on each girl before one of them got sick, making her stop to tend to the one person that couldn’t handle her hangover. This gave Sangyeon’s mom a chance to check on you.

“Hey,” She said softly, catching your attention. “Are you okay? Truly?”

You couldn’t turn your head due to the makeup being put on so you opted to just locking eyes with her through the mirror.

“Is it that obvious that something is bothering me?”

She chuckled. “I’ve known you long enough to see a change in your moods.”

For the first time today, you cracked an actual genuine smile.

“I got into a fight.” You said quietly.

“With who? One of the girls?”

Shaking your head. “With Chanhee.”

“Oh sweetheart. I’m sure it wasn’t too bad.” She cooed.

You chuckled. “He’s not here, is he? Something tells me he’s not with Sangyeon either.”

Your mother in law frowned as she excused herself, pulling out her phone as she stepped outside the room you were in.

The artists were slowly getting everyone finished as each girl got into her bridesmaid dress. You were the last to be finished, and you could hear the shouting and greeting of your guests making their way into the venue hall. Your bridesmaids left you to go mingle with some of the single men that your future husband had invited to keep them controlled. Your mother helped you get into your dress before disappearing herself to greet guests.

The words Chanhee had said to you continued to run through your mind, making you zone out once again. You were starting to get upset as someone knocked on the door. You checked your makeup in the mirror as you walked to the door. You went to grab the handle to open the door before someone put weight on it, keeping it closed.

“Hey,” Your fiancé’s voice rang through the wood of the door. “Don’t open it. It’s bad luck for a groom to see his bride before she walks down the aisle.”

A sense of calmness washed over you at the sound of Sangyeon’s voice.

“I missed you.”

He chuckled. “I missed you too. I’m ready to marry you.”

This time you chuckled. “So am I.”

You both laughed before he spoke again.

“I just wanted to check on you. My mom said you were a little down about not seeing Chanhee yet.”

You perked up slightly at the mention of your best friend. “Has he shown up?”

The other side of the door was silent before Sangyeon spoke. “He didn’t tell you? He got sick. He must have come down with something while he was out with you. He stayed back at my hotel so he wouldn’t get anyone else sick.”

Your eyes closed as you let out a sigh. You couldn’t believe it.

He wasn’t coming.

“Oh, okay. He must have just forgotten.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He always bounces back, you know that.” Sangyeon told you.

You wanted to reply before hearing a loud yell from the other side of the door.

“There you are man! We’ve been looking for you.”

You’d recognize the voice anywhere.

“We’re stealing your husband back real quick. You’ll get him back when you walk down the aisle!”

“He’s not my husband yet, Eric. You can take him, though.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

He patted the door in response before Sangyeon replied.

“I love you.”

You could hear him get dragged away by the younger boy as you picked up your dress so it wouldn’t drag, walking back towards the makeup station you were previously sat at. Pulling out your phone, you pulled up Chanhee’s contact. Your finger hovered over the call button before you jumped.

The far side door opened, revealing your best friend dressed in a tux. He closed the door behind him quickly as you stood up.

“Chanhee!” You said happily.

When he turned to look at you, you quieted quickly. He looked dejected, hurt, as he made his way towards you.

“I was supposed to give you this last night. However, due to certain circumstances, I got distracted.” Chanhee whispered.

You swallowed hard, trying to gulp down the knot in your throat. He reached into his suit jacket as he pulled out a box. It was black leather, with slight tears in it. He handed it to you quietly, choosing not to say anything.

Gently taking the box from him, you opened it. You let out a gasp as you took in the beautiful sight before you. The box held a beautiful hair clip decorated in white gold with blue diamonds.

“It’s a forget-me-not. Our flower.” Chanhee uttered out.

He took the clip from the box, pulling you to stand centered in front of the mirror as he slipped the clip into your hair. The lights in the room made the blue diamonds sparkle as he spoke.

“I found it in a thrift shop. It was a family heirloom that eventually ended up in the shop. I figured you’d like it. Brides are supposed to have something old, something new, something used, and something blue, right? I guess it falls under every category.” Chanhee told you softly.

You couldn’t help but bring your hand up to your hair, running your fingers over the emblem. You should’ve told him it was beautiful, should’ve said thank you.

Instead you opted for this.

“You came.”

Chanhee nodded. “I couldn’t miss your wedding even if I wanted to. You're my best friend.”

Feeling your eyes start to water you whipped around, pulling him into a tight hug. Chanhee hugged back, just as tightly, as he let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled out into his jacket.

You felt him shake his head. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled again.

This time, Chanhee chuckled. “You’re right. That’s a conversation for a different day, though.”

You two pulled apart to look at each other as he spoke again.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Come on. Let’s go get you married.” He said, walking you to the door.

You let him lead the way before you both stopped. You took a deep breath before looking at your best friend. He gave you a smile.

“You're the best Chanhee! I love you.”

Chanhee chuckled. “Careful. Sangyeon might think you’re falling in love with me.”

You both laughed as your mom opened the door, greeting Chanhee happily as she told you everything was ready. As she led the both of you to the front of venue, Chanhee was ready to walk you down the aisle as he whispered to you.

“I love you, too!”

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