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[chanranghaeys]

안녕! 👋

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ haneul (you can call me hani) ⋆ 199x ⋆ she/her ⋆ writing acct for svt! ⋆ 🦌🍑🐸🍊🐻‍❄️🦦 bias line ⋆｡˚ ☽ ˚｡⋆

⋆˙⟡ networks: the diamond life network; svt hub; studio SVT ⟡˙⋆

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ masterlist ⟡ scroll through all my work! ⟡ requests are closed, but my inbox is open for additions to tag list, thoughts and feedback, or just to say hi hehe (◠‿◠ ღ) ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

more about me and my writing guidelines under the cut ᵕ̈

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more about me:

she/her

southeast asian

libra ☼ taurus ☾ cancer ↑

enfp - t

full-time nonprofit girlie, part-time crafter of delulu worlds here on tumblr

entry point to kpop: bts in dec 2021 (still love them! i can't wait for them to return huhu)

other groups i follow: bts, kiss of life, le sserafim, newjeans, meovv, all day project i find it hard to stan boy groups bc they're all literally younger than me atp and i can't

what i write:

fanfics for k-pop group seventeen and its members

fluff, angst, nsfw, borderline smut but not rly bc I'll let the better spicy authors do this 👏

scenarios, imagines, headcanons

long fics possible

series within a universe definitely possible

what i don't write:

hardcore smut, violence, assault, furry stuff, bdsm, and...

...any other topics i am not comfortable and/or am capable of writing

what requests i accept:

svt fics!

headcanons, imagines, and prompts (this will help me practice my writing too hehe)

for other groups...i am open to it and am willing to try but unless i know them as thoroughly as i know svt, my writing may be a hit or miss

[chanranghaeys]

💋 the first kiss

things…happen when your childhood crush kisses you one day.

pairing: wonwoo x afab/fem!reader word count: 1.4k genre: fluff, smut rating: r-18. nsfw, mdni! tags: childhood crushes, virgin!characters, mutual yearning! we love mutual yearning! warnings: making out, dry humping, sucking, (slight) fingering, (slightly) caught in the act

a/n: what a way to enter the caratblr space again—with wonwoo smut HAHA 😅 this little fic is part of the @studiosvt Holiday Fic Exchange and my secret santa baby is @ikeukiss (again)! lexi, i love gifting you fics (this time a wonwoo one!) and i hope you like reading them just as much as i like writing them. ty always to the loml @chugging-antiseptic-dye for the beta mwa mwa.

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his lips press onto yours—tentative, hesitant, light as a feather. when he pulls away to look at you, you see a slight reflection of your eyes in his glasses, as if seeing what he could see.

the moment you hear him say, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” it was like the wind was knocked out of your lungs.

it had been years and years of yearning for him—a fact you've been embarrassed about but could not deny. ever since that first day when your mothers told you both to “make friends with each other” and he shyly shared his favorite games with you, your eyes would always unconsciously drop towards his lips, wondering how they would feel on yours.

“that was my first kiss,” you whisper.

wonwoo's eyes widen. “mine, too.”

before you can overthink it, you find yourself asking, “would you do it again?”

his keen eyes travel across your face, studying the expressions that cross it. “do you want me to?”

“if you want to.”

he chuckles. “if i start, i might not be able to stop.”

“then don’t.”

he clasps your chin, pulling you towards him until the tips of your noses meet. you can feel his lips against yours as he smirks and breathes out, “don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

“wonwoo, just shut up and kiss me.”

that was all he needed. you see him close his eyes and at the same time he closes the distance between both your lips. gone was the whisper of his kiss as he went deeper and deeper. you eagerly return the fervor, exploring what kisses were and how they worked with each other’s softness pressing against each other.

his hand cupping your cheek holds you steadfast against him, but you feel his other hand starting to roam. he first had it on your waist, now you feel it inching slowly to the small of your back, ghosting the sliver of skin between your shirt and your shorts.

that brief touch of skin against skin seemed to ignite a burning fire within you and you pull him in closer, your hands fisting and tangling in his hair.

he presses his lips deeper against yours, firmer, until you feel your lips parting in return. when they do, you suddenly feel his tongue slip in, getting a taste of the sensation of your tongue against his. as he did this, he fully slipped his hand under that small space your shirt allowed, and you feel his bare hand caressing your waist slowly, gently, kneading your skin and feeling his way across your body.

your head spins, your body floats. you feel this, everything, shooting straight down your spine, right down to a pool of heat at the bottom of your stomach.

his boldness, this confidence, one you’ve never seen before, inspires you to do the same. and you do. and it continues, this dance, one that involves tongues and lips and teeth, one that finds hands travelling under shirts and lips traversing the corners of your neck, and you find your teeth against his earlobe, softly biting and licking and kissing at the same time.

suddenly the sofa was too big with the way your bodies were slowly connecting at more points than at the beginning. his large hands were fully exploring your waist now, fingers edging the bands of your bra and your panties, clenching as if wanting to pull you closer.

so you oblige to his unspoken desire by moving to sit over his lap, your thighs pressed together with that most pleasurable feeling and placed over wonwoo’s thighs. but you both didn’t find this quite right.

“i think this would be better,” wonwoo said, his voice low, deep, thick with an emotion you could only describe as desire.

he made a move to change your position, and you found yourself straddling him instead, with you seated on his lap with your thighs spread apart. you couldn’t help but release a small whimper at the loss of the delicious pressure between your thighs.

he hears this and lets out a breathy laugh. “does my girl want to feel good? how about you move up a bit and settle here.” at this, he grips your waist again and positions you closer to him. when you settle down, you feel something else replacing the pressure you felt at the apex of your thighs.

wonwoo let out a hiss at this action, digging his fingers deeper into the plush skin of your waist, throwing his head back at the pressure your open core placed on his hard-on. when you realize this, you only feel the heat grow on your cheeks, but also in your chest, and down your core.

with his exposed neck in full display, you attack it like a mad woman, holding onto his shoulder and upper arm to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses and leaving a trail of saliva where your tongue met his warm skin.

and every time you went in, the friction you both felt against your sensitive areas just grew sweeter with each motion. at one point you just stop, settling your lips on his neck and interlocking your fingers at his nape. and you start to move your hips.

the sounds that came from your throats were ungodly, synchronized like a taboo chorus. the sensation your clothed cores gave only added to the pleasure you were both feeling.

“wonwoo…i’m so—this feels—so good—” you break off into a moan. in response he grabs your face and finds your lips, mirroring your motions and bucking his hips into yours. you hold each other close, feeling each others’ breath on your faces as if sharing the same breath between two lungs.

in the thick of things, wonwoo found a way to busy himself with his hands. they moved down from your waist to your thighs, inching up higher until they teased their way into your shorts. when his thumb found his way to your clothed pussy, he instinctively pressed against it.

you both gasped, shocked at what you both felt: you with a jolt of pleasure up your body, and him with a wet thumb pad from the soaked-through core of your panties.

“oh my god, wonwoo,” you let out with a whisper.

“woah. wait, are you okay? did i do something wrong?”

you shake your head, breathless to even articulate your words properly. “just—do it again. please.”

he obliges, but this time placing it just a touch higher than his previous position, placing pressure on the small bud you knew was there, sending you into a whirlwind of sensations.

“ah! wonwoo—!” you move your hips involuntarily, finding the pressure to dig back into the pulsating sensation down below.

“you scared me, baby. i thought i did something wrong.” wonwoo brought up his hand to cradle your face. when he swiped his thumb over your mouth, you suddenly thought to open and lick his thumb. he took this as a welcome offer and he pushed his thumb into your waiting mouth, where you sucked and licked it like a popsicle. needless to say, he felt it all the way down to his already hardened dick.

“my god, y/n. what am i going to do with you.” he starts to lean in for another kiss when—

BEEP BEEP. you both jump apart at the sound that seemed too near for your liking.

“it’s my parents. they’re back from christmas shopping.”

“oh,” wonwoo says as you both look down at yourselves and your compromising position, and you both laugh. when you remove yourself from his lap, you see his sweatpants soaked through—making his bulge even more prominent than you thought.

“hey, my eyes are up here,” wonwoo says. you fail to hide your blush, thinking about what other activities you and wonwoo could do together.

“geez, i’m sorry. you could go to my room, i think there's a pair of your pants from the last time you were here. i need to run to the gate before they get suspicious.”

“hey.” wonwoo catches your hand and pulls you in for one final kiss—firm and lingering and one that makes your head spin all over again. when he breaks off, he says, “this isn’t just a one-time thing for me. and it’s not just a physical thing.” a pause. he briefly drops his eyes down to your lips. as if deciding against his thoughts, he bites his bottom lip instead. “i mean it when i said that i’ve wanted to do that for a long time. if only you knew how long.”

you look at him with promise. “i think i have an idea.”

he smirks again—that annoyingly endearing smirk that made your heart ache in a good kind of way—and lands his lips on the back of your hand. “go. i’ll see you in a bit.”

[chanranghaeys]

hi it’s your secret santa!! hope you are doing well. is there any specific trope that you enjoy?

YO HIIII 😭 christmas season is so whack over here ive been so hectic irl aaaaa but as my secret santa i would love love anything you would give me bc im sure you'll do amazing sweetie mwa 😙

[chanranghaeys]

🤝 on your side

Being seatmates with Chan for your senior year back in arts high school changed your life forever. Being estranged friends with Dino, the much-anticipated idol trainee turned celebrated idol-slash-actor, messed with your head—and your heart. Being the Chief Financial Officer and right-hand of Sebong Corporation’s newest CEO Mr. Lee Chan turned you both into people who barely knew each other. But would you both be willing to stick it through to the end, claiming to be on each other’s side? —inspired by the song “on your side” by wet

pairing: entertainment company ceo!lee chan x cfo!fem!reader word count: 8.3k+ genre: angst, not really a happy ending but not too bad either, high school friends to vague situationship to workplace enemies to civil colleagues to distant friends at peace rating: PG-13 tags: puppy love and high school crushes, slices of idol trainee and working uni student life, this is just life i guess, corporate speak, VERY conversation heavy you have been forewarned warnings: cursing, mild drinking and mentions of alcohol, cheating allegations, confrontations, some trauma, resentment, mild mention of therapy

a/n: i am back! and one whole month LATE to the posting deadline but IT’S HEREEEE. please welcome my entry to the that’s showbiz, baby! collab hosted by tara @diamonddaze01 and kae @studioeisa! what a journey. when kae approached me last december for this collab, i was on the fence abt the whole thing but if there’s anything this past half year proved, it’s that writing fanfiction is better done with friends, and i adore how this collab fostered a community i will cherish for lifeeeee

major thanks to a @chugging-antiseptic-dye for being my accountability buddy aka going insane together for this collab and for watching my own insanity unfold yet accepting me still; viv @heartepub and kae for helping me make sense of my thoughts and this story; tara for making this beautifully simple yet effective banner; bennie @miniseokminnies and sam @joonsytip for bouncing off character ideas back and forth with me to the point where we used our brainchildren in each others’ fics. quite literally, this fic would not exist without you all mwa

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The Beginning—

The minutes tick by painstakingly slow. Despite the coffee you feel must be running in your bloodstream by now, you feel the clutches of drowsiness clawing at you. You force yourself awake, trying to focus on the predominantly male voices in the room.

“Solid financials, Ms. Y/L/N. Thank you as always for your hard work. I don’t know what Sebong Corp would be without you,” said the voice almost secondary in your head. You meet eyes with Mrs. Baek, your boss of seven years who has always seen you as someone who would succeed in her footsteps when the time came.

But you have eyes for another. Mr. Woo glances at you with his steely eyes, never giving any indication of overt emotion. It was sensible because this meeting is pure business, especially with the stakes presented from the get-go.

They were retiring this year. This wasn’t anything new, not when it got the whole office buzzing as to who would be replacing Mr. Woo as the Chief Executive Officer and Mrs. Baek as the Chief Financial Officer. The two most senior individuals in the company were looking for those next in line, and it was no secret that you were at the forefront.

A steady mantra in your head got you through the interview process—multiple conversations with multiple people across several levels. As if you haven’t spent more than half of your career in this company, asking questions whose answers you knew like the back of your hand.

However, with all your hard work, it didn’t hurt to aim higher, didn’t it? Mrs. Baek saw you following in her footsteps as CFO, having worked multiple roles under her guidance. But if there was anything that you learned from your time spent counting and earning money for this company, it was how you could spend the money right.

Mr. Woo is good, but he is not the best. His management style is outdated and bygone, with his tendency to be stingy with money being the undeniable cause for Sebong Corp’s rise in the ranks of South Korea’s richest companies.

But times are changing, evolving, and the company needed new blood, fresh ideas, a new branding to keep up with competitors like Carat Company, who clearly listen to their audiences. How else can an entertainment company gain a surge of followers with an undeniably captivating roster of artists and content?

Not Sebong Corp. Not yet, so you thought.

Sebong Corp needs someone young who knows the ins and outs of the industry. Someone who is capable of leading with the know-how to handle the workings of a full-fledged, national conglomerate. Someone who—

“—can handle the figures the way Ms. Y/L/N does and does not get overwhelmed with the targets we have set for the artists and repertoire that we have.” You snap back into attention as Mr. Woo addresses the conference room. Sebong Corp’s Board of Directors turns to his presence at the head of the table.

“Mrs. Baek and I interviewed multiple candidates, internal and external, reviewed their credentials, and identified their personalities and loyalties. It has always been Sebong Corp’s culture to find people with integrity and passion to put the artists and their craft at the forefront. After separate meetings with Chairperson Jeong and the rest of the board, I would like to officially announce the next CEO and CFO of Sebong Corporation.”

A weird knot forms in the pit of your gut. Something was going to happen—one you cannot describe yet, but has gotten hold of you like a vise.

“These two candidates have been outstanding in their respective fields and are exactly the people the company needs to breathe fresh life into our respected organization.” Mr. Woo takes a deep breath, one you unwittingly take along with him.

“Ms. Y/N Y/L/N.” You turn at the sound of your name.

He looks straight at you, his unwavering look almost softening to something wholly unfamiliar. “I have full confidence that you will follow both Mrs. Baek’s and my footsteps as one of the most loyal and dedicated people in this company.

“There is no one else more fitting for this position than you. Congratulations on your new appointment as Sebong Corp’s CFO.”

A chill grips your senses and renders you speechless, your voice suddenly something you can’t unearth from yourself. You don't know how you find it again, but you manage to say, “Thank you, Mr. Woo, Mrs. Baek. I will not let you and the company down.”

“Good, because I’m sure you would make a good tandem with our new CEO. It’s a shame he couldn’t come today due to prior commitments, but he has already responded positively to your appointment.” Gears start spinning in your mind. So he already knew about the appointment before I did?

“But, without further ado, I would like to announce that the new CEO of Sebong Corp is K-pop superstar and actor, and now my successor, Dino. Or as most of us will now address him in the office, Mr. Lee Chan.”

It takes a tremendously immense effort to maintain the composure you have arranged on your exterior. It takes your full willpower to prevent all of the memories of the past two decades from resurfacing all at once.

I will be working under Chan as his CFO?

Mr. Woo continues, blessedly oblivious to the turmoil happening in your system. “He sends his regards, and he will be reporting to the office starting next week. The next few months will be spent transitioning responsibilities to our new leaders right here. I officially adjourn this board meeting. Thank you everyone for your time.”

The collective noise of people moving fills the room, suits rustling against each other mixed with murmurs of business talk and congratulations directed at you. You decide to have this moment of sole acknowledgment, where no one else can steal your spotlight. Not yet. For now.

Mrs. Baek greets you with an enthusiastic hug, gushing at how all your hard work paid off. Mr. Woo joins in, a gesture you appreciate when he could act otherwise. But you decide that the converse might have been better because the conversation that ensues is one you wish had been skipped entirely.

“Ms. Y/L/N, congratulations. I mean it when I said that there is no one else better for this position than you are.”

Despite the conflicting feelings in your chest, a shot of pride beams through the emotions you were feeling. “Thank you, Mr. Woo. You don’t know how much this means to me. I… I promise to live up to your expectations.”

“I have no doubt you will. I trust Mrs. Baek’s expert judgment.” The CEO pauses briefly before looking at you with curious eyes. “You know, Chan was pleased when he heard that you’d be CFO. In fact, it surprised me when he said that he knew you, mentioned that you two go way back—all the way from your time in Hanlim? I never knew you went to an arts high school. How did you two get to know each other?”

You gave him the most nonchalant smile. “We just did a lot of school projects together. You know how it is in high school.” You swallow the lump in your throat to carefully hide the spiteful tone in your voice instead. “I’m sure he’s just excited that we’ll be working together again after so long.”

Seventeen years before The Beginning—

“You know, I like working with you. I can’t believe it took us this long to actually be friends.”

“Who said that we’re friends?”

Chan looks at you, the feigned look of shock visible on his features. “I take everything back then. We are not friends and I do not like working with you.”

You laughed, that intoxicating laugh that Chan has come to miss every time you’re not around. He laughed in return, the one that has everyone looking at him, but you hoped against hope that he only looked for you amongst the crowd.

You both didn’t know why it took so long for the two of you to be this close—not until you were forced to sit together on the first day of Arts and Production Class.

Whispers were abound during your first day of school, with students marking the who’s who of idol trainees and celebrity aspirants in the class. But even the teachers agreed that a chaebol heir was a rare sighting in Hanlim Multi Arts High School.

It was an unlikely pairing: Lee Chan, son of one of the richest people in South Korea and the heir of a chaebol empire, and you, daughter of your middling parents who struggled to make ends meet every so often.

As the months passed, you soon found yourself on equal footing with each other: Lee Chan, the golden boy of the practical dance department, and you, the darling of the filmmaking department.

You’d heard of him even before senior year, but you weren’t sure if he’d heard of you, to which he confirmed that “How could I not know about the most celebrated film director in Hanlim who gets all the recognition during the annual student film festival?”

You and Chan came to build an easy companionship in class, especially when he could be friends with almost anyone else in the school as you expected at first, but it wasn’t until the late-night walks that you truly got to know each other.

You both don’t know how these evening Han River walks started—they just did. What began as a weekly hangout with a bunch of classmates slowly dwindled into a handful of people. Yet time and again, what never changed was you and Chan walking the streets of Seoul and passing through parks in the cover of night as the weekday turns to weekends, with conversations that didn’t usually show themselves within the confines of high school.

He asked you why you chose filmmaking. “Do you want the government answer, or the real answer?” Chan raised an eyebrow and, of course, asked for both. “Government answer: I’ve always loved telling stories. Films are just one way I could do that.

“The real answer? I actually started out in community theater doing plays and musicals and stuff.” His narrow eyes widened impossibly. You cut him off before he could get a word in, “But life had a different plan for me.”

You shared that you also auditioned for filmmaking on a whim. It was a backup plan brought by a gut feel, because that’s how you were brought up—to never put all your stakes on one thing. Turns out you were right, because while you were accepted into Hanlim, it wasn’t for musical theater. And if it weren’t for that filmmaking audition, you might not even be in Hanlim in the first place.

You asked him how he managed to keep such a low profile. “My parents are away most of the time. To the point that people don’t even associate me with them. Also helps that they keep their private life a huge secret…as if I were the one they wanted to keep secret from the world.” He continued with a shrug and a nonchalant one, “It’s cool.”

At this point, you already knew he wanted to be a celebrity. Even if he didn’t say so, everyone in the school knew that he was born to be on the stage. But what only a handful—including you—knew was that his parents forbade him from auditioning to be a trainee and to be their successor instead.

It became the whole reason he enrolled in Hanlim: to train and learn what he could, even if he wasn’t yet a trainee up for debut. Chan cut his parents a deal that if he graduated with high honors, then they would—should—allow him to audition. They agreed.

So you asked him why he wouldn’t just audition then, how maybe they wouldn’t find out if they were always away. “Oh, believe me,” he scoffed, “they’ll find out. They always have their ways. Not this time, though. For my future, I will have my way, and no one else’s.”

That was how these nights were usually spent. However, this one felt different. It was a seemingly silent agreement that the reason it felt as such was because it was graduation in two weeks.

A week before that, Chan would be a trainee under one of the biggest entertainment companies in the country having already passed the audition.

A week after that, you would start going to cram school to prepare for the CSAT.

It was also an unspoken agreement that it was just a walk for the two of you. Chan just asked if you were free this Friday for the usual and you said yes, as you always did. You asked if he invited anyone else and he said no, which you didn’t feel the need to question. It was as if both of you were thinking the same thing.

His saying that you two weren’t friends sparked something in you. He knew what he was doing; you were sure of it. You hoped that the heat rising to your cheeks would subside before you reached the street light, but you could excuse it to the slight chill in the evening air.

“Yeah, not friends, hate working with you. I totally agree,” you said as you bumped his shoulder against yours. As per usual, he exaggerated by almost going out of balance. And as per usual, you fell for it by automatically reaching out and grabbing him by his arms.

The sudden movements did almost make him fall, and he clasped your arms in return, righting himself as he steadied against your grip. A mess of limbs and peals of laughter later, you find that your hands are in his, their warmth seeping against yours. His fingers pressed into your palms for a moment too long.

In that moment, his eyes found yours, and he reflected the smile that you’re sure was plastered on your face. Not for the first time, your gazes remained locked on each other. Slowly, you feel the corners of your lips drop in time with the way that your heart starts beating faster. You see Chan visibly swallow a seeming lump in his throat.

Too serious. Lighten the mood.

You let go of his hands too quickly and jokingly swatted at his arms. “I told you not to do that! You know how easily I fall for your tricks.”

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his parka, as if finding warmth to replace the ones that yours gave. He pursed his lips in thought before responding, “Maybe I should try a different trick next time to finally get you to fall for real.”

“You want to see me plant my face on the floor so bad, huh?”

“You wouldn’t have the chance to. I’ll always catch you if you fall.”

A million emotions flashed through your face, and Chan just laughed at them all. “Lee Chan, is this flirting I hear from you? I thought we were friends.”

“You said we weren’t friends!”

“All this because I said that?”

“Then take it back!” You two really shouldn’t be making this much noise in the stillness of the night against the calm of the Han River in the background.

You roll your eyes at him, though he doesn’t see as he walks a few steps in front of you. “Take what back?”

“Tell me we’re friends.” He stopped to face you, standing at just the right spot against the shine of a street lamp. This guy—your friend—looked ethereal, a natural spotlight forming around him as he owned the world like his stage.

How could you possibly be friends with Chan when you couldn’t even name these feelings that were trying to burst out of you? Was it just attraction? Admiration? You couldn’t even call this a crush. Or maybe it was…

You shook your head, more to yourself than to answer Chan’s question. With a step forward, you faced him and these feelings with sudden bravery.

You stopped right in front of him and shared the light. He looked down at you, suddenly unsure how to proceed. He bit his lower lip. “Why this all of a sudden?”

“You know what? I take that back.” With defiant eyes, you said, “From now on, let’s consider each other colleagues.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Seriously?”

You pushed forward and took a step away from him—away from his shining light and into the cover of darkness. “We are colleagues at best, acquaintances at worst.”

“Easy, let’s stick to colleagues and not get ahead of ourselves. Do you so badly want me out of your life?” He quickened his pace to catch up to you, but you just went faster.

“Besides,” you mused, “you’d be an idol soon enough. I’d be the CEO of the biggest entertainment company someday. That makes us colleagues, right?” You could dream big, right?

“Oh, you'd so become a CEO. I can see it.”

“Just you wait, Channie-ya. You be careful with your words around me. Maybe I can give you some favors when you finally decide to pursue that idol-slash-actor career of yours.”

“Nah, you’re too good. I won’t be surprised if you forget all about me when you’re a big boss calling the shots.”

“Forget you? The shining and brilliant Lee Chan from Hanlim? Never.”

Chan coughed, disguising the embarrassment in his tone. “Ya, you be careful with your words. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“I’m serious! How can I forget you? I'd make you my top star if I could.”

You felt a hand grab yours, stopping you in your tracks. You turned and saw Chan looking at you with eyes that were questioning and vulnerable. “Do you really mean that? Would you really?”

You swallowed, realizing the depth of your words. “Yeah. You're meant to be a star, Channie. I'm meant to keep that star of yours shining.”

Everything was shining, but the brilliant Lee Chan was looking at you as if you were the only thing that shone in this night. He doesn’t let go of your hand. You don’t let him.

He pulled you in as you took one step toward him. He cupped your face as you closed your eyes. You both leaned in.

And when your lips touched, the world suddenly went quiet. You briefly parted to lock eyes, but it followed with another kiss, and another, each one deeper than the last, and you felt each other’s smiles against your lips. Each kiss brought an explosion of colors, the roar of a symphony, the thunderous applause.

When you both gasped for air and finally parted, you looked at each other and your kiss-swollen lips as reality suddenly set back in, along with the sounds of the Han River evening.

“Chan…Channie.” You don’t know if you were laughing or on the verge of crying. Because why now? Why not earlier?

Why now, when you two will be worlds apart by next week?

“I—I know, I know.” He clasped both your hands. Tight. His thumbs rubbed over the back of your palms. He wouldn’t let go of you this time.

“Y/N-ah. Are you willing to take the risk with me?”

You nod, even though you didn’t know what you were agreeing to. All you knew at this moment was that you could never say no to Chan. How could you?

Three months after The Beginning—

There is a physical kind of pain that comes with working with someone you just happen to have a deep, long-standing history with. It’s even worse when this person is your CEO.

The weight of things unspoken left a visceral and indelible mark on every interaction between the two of you, subtle at first, but undeniably growing stronger every single day.

But you two are professionals, of course. No one else needs to know about the past.

How you have not resigned yet remains a mystery even to you. Maybe it was your pride to begin with, as someone who would not dare risk all the years you have toiled in your company, all because of this…stranger coming into the picture.

With each passing week of seeing Chan’s screen-ready smile and winsome attitude toward all the employees, you realize that he was good at this. Every time you sat in a meeting room with him with either the internal teams or the company’s external stakeholders, his charm and wit matched the reasoning and firmness in his statements.

He’d always had the smarts that were good at winning people over, you know that much. And it has you seething.

Yes, it was definitely your pride winning over your rational thoughts of distancing yourself from the person you knew would be no good for you.

Despite the inner turmoil, you were both artists in your own right who had mastered the art of the professional exterior—polite smiles every time there were other people in the room and friendly banter in between the critical business deals.

But every time your eyes meet each other across the table during executive meetings and business dinners, you know that the unreadable expressions in his eyes show a semblance of similarity to your thoughts—thoughts of inconvenient loathing, but with a hidden softness you both were denying, one that spoke of a deeper sense of hurt and sadness.

You wouldn’t admit as such. You’ve just learned to live with it.

He had pinged you a few minutes ago to meet him briefly at his office, a place you avoided at all costs. The reality of being alone with him in the same room was too suffocating to even think about.

A knock on his door and you push on the handle, stepping inside in time to see him stand. He was dressed down today, wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his hair falling into his eyes. He sweeps a finger across his forehead to clear his vision, seeing you dressed like your usual professional self, your high heels allowing you to stand tall against his figure despite the distance.

“Yes, Chan-ssi?” He visibly cringes when you speak, but he has no choice but to follow your wishes of maintaining the honorific. He hates even more how he reciprocates the use of the same honorific attached to your name, and how it doesn’t faze you at all.

“Take a look at this.” Chan lays open a folder on his desk with more force than usual. You walk toward it and see rows of numbers, with a grand total amount and your signature in full view.

“And what about it?”

“You know perfectly well that this is one of the last documents required to greenlight a film. And you also know perfectly well that I’ve been adamant against greenlighting this film.”

“And?”

“Why did you sign off on the budget sheet?”

“Because the figures were correct and the reasoning was sound. They’re a little under budget if you ask me. They projected costs very well for the anticipated returns of the project.”

Chan’s tone turns incredulous. “Returns? I—you know whose project this is, right? Vernon’s. And that indie director he’s so dead set on working with. Marketing is having a PR crisis managing this current rebellious streak of his when we have been working on his portfolio for years.”

“And? Marketing also says that this is generating the necessary hype to make this movie a blockbuster. I’ve asked them to do the projected analytics for this with the current buzz. Remember: bad PR is still PR. They’re already working on it. And it seems that Vernon is handling this ‘PR crisis’”—you complete with imaginary quotes in the air—“the best way possible. Sometimes you need a complete twist to turn things into instant hits.”

“No, you do not get it.” Chan started pacing back and forth against his daunting ceiling-to-floor windows that added to his gravitas. “We have a strategy in place. We had A&R build up the year and execute plans to maintain this status quo. I have a board of directors to answer to with this whole fiasco.”

“Why do you keep calling it a fiasco when it isn’t? Honestly, I find this so funny. I should be the one worrying about investing in our highest-paid actor working with a virtually unknown director, but I’m not. Because I believe in what they are creating.”

“Fine. Then you have the privilege of telling me I’m wrong. Just make sure that I don’t end up saying to your face that I told you so.”

“You won’t. If there’s any risk that would be good to take for this year, it’s this.” Your words force Chan to halt his pacing, his eyes piercing into yours. You feel a shift in the already rising tension, but you push on. “Risks can be high-yield, and this one will pay off."

“Risks,” Chan says with a scoff. "You talk to me now about risks when we already have everything in place. You, of all people. I didn’t think you would be the type to take risks. I distinctly remember otherwise."

Fifteen years before The Beginning—

“Lee Chan.” You confront him, gathering up all the strength you have in your body to hide the true emotions on your face amidst the chill.

Chan couldn’t meet your eyes. He was standing in the glow of the streetlight, a contrast to the dull city lights and the vast darkness of the Han River. When he bowed his head, it looked like he was under an interrogation lamp.

“You ask me to meet you here as if nothing happened and now you’re silent.” You looked at him with eyes of contempt. “Why did I even expect any different? How typical of you to call me out here in the middle of the night expecting things to be the way it was before. As if you didn’t just disappear from my life with no explanation months ago.”

“I already told you why I had to do that—”

“No, you still don’t get it!” Your raised voice was enough for him to lock his gaze with yours. You knew that your eyes gave off the fire of someone in pain, but you did not expect to see…emptiness in his.

You exhale in exasperation before you continue. “I will not accept that pathetic excuse. How difficult is it to send a single text? How simple is it to just ask me out to coffee to tell me something important? You know I’d drop everything for you in an instant.”

“You say that now. But would you really? Drop everything?” Chan replied, his quiet voice a stark contrast from yours. “I told you it was a risk—this was a risk. You knew it from the start, yet you said yes.” His exterior was calm, but his words had a bite to them.

“A risk can only be so calculated.” You try to match his tone, but it only made you sound desperate and helpless, as if he was your only lifeline when you tried to fight against this very idea. Frustrated tears threatened to fall. “Channie, you left me alone, left me unheard. Where were you?”

You remain silent, angrily wiping away the tears to clear your blurry vision. He opens and closes his mouth several times, rearranging the words in his head at light speed. In truth, he had no idea what else he could say to better the situation. “You know where. Couldn’t you just have trusted me?”

“How can I trust you when the first thing I hear about you in six months is a dating scandal from a tabloid?” You paused, lost in your disillusionment. “I didn’t even know you were so close to debuting.”

“LMNT Studios and Dove Entertainment’s Top Trainees and Rookies Have a Wild Night at a Private Party”

“Project LMNT’s Dino and Dovetail’s Yume Caught Cozying Up in Hongdae”

This was the news that popped up as soon as you opened your phone on that fateful morning. If it weren’t for the name of Chan’s company and trainee project in the headline, you wouldn’t have cared for it otherwise. You didn’t even know he had a stage name already.

Before this, there had been nothing but radio silence from Chan’s end, nothing from him to disprove any of the claims that had been made. The pictures were all the evidence you needed.

Your life had been derailed since that day. You were messing things up at school and at work. Your teachers and your boss were reprimanding you. Your parents were dreadfully worried. And you couldn’t tell any of them the true reason why.

You knew it would be difficult to see an idol trainee. Now you see that you had bitten off way more than you could chew.

“They disbanded the trainee project, if you must know. All because some stupid paparazzi took a photo that wasn't even supposed to get out.”

“But it still happened.”

“Y/N, she's a friend! I've known her since I started as a trainee.”

“You never told me about her.”

“But you know that there are just some things I can’t always tell you.”

“So you decided to just ghost me for months, then. That was your solution? You could’ve just told me that you wanted to end things, Chan. That would’ve been way simpler and easier. Might’ve even hurt less.” The sarcasm dripped from your voice, but you couldn’t help it. Everything was hurting at this point.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just—I don’t know what I’ve been doing and…I’m just so damn tired all the time—”

“You could have told me, Chan! Don’t you get it? You’re tired, I’m tired. That’s life. You try working double shifts on weekends with a full load of schoolwork on the weekdays.

“You get paid to be tired doing what you love. I get paid shit for doing anything just to make ends meet, and all you do is complain.”

Stop it, you think, you’re going too far. Stop now. But you couldn’t—the floodgates had been forced open. 

“Oh, don’t you start this on me. You don’t get to compare how we ended up when you chose that life for yourself, just as much as I chose mine. I can’t take this.” With a disgusted look on his face, Chan started walking away.

To you, it seemed like he was walking away from everything you two ever stood for.

“Fine. Leave. You’ve had everything easy anyway, right? Everything just falls into your lap, whatever you choose. If I got everything so easily, I guess I can just throw things away just as easily.”

That made Chan stop in his tracks. “Throw things awa—how dare you?” A scoff escaped his lips as he turned around to face you again. “Easy? How was anything easy? You think money and fame can get you everything easy?

"How dare you, Y/N. As if you weren’t there. As if you didn’t bear witness to every single day where the only thing I gave away was blood, sweat, and tears to get to where I am today.”

“I was there, Chan. I was. Then you shut me out.”

“You really think I left you? You don’t know what it’s like to be left alone every single day of your life. People only come when the lights are shining on you. But when the lights are gone, they just leave and go back to the shadows.”

“Just like the way you’re leaving me now?”

Upon hearing those words, Chan softened his edges. He couldn’t deny the tears building up in his eyes anymore. So he decided to close the gap between the two of you instead.

Tentatively, he reached for your hand, and he hoped against hope that it could convey all that he truly wanted to say—even if he didn’t know what those were.

But at this moment, when you would usually feel how close his warmth would be whenever you two touched, all you thought was that he could not be farther away from you than he already was. It’s all for show at this point, you think.

“I’m not your enemy, Y/N. I’m just asking you to keep taking this risk. Couldn’t you do that for me, for us?”

“I can’t risk any more than I have if you’ve proven that you’re only a risk on yourself. I’ve already wasted enough years of my life chasing after someone I should’ve known wouldn't give a fuck about me in the end.”

You let go. “Goodbye, Chan.”

You walked away. And he let you go.

One year after The Beginning—

You were right. You were goddamn right. And Chan was wrong.

And if he’s proven wrong, he knows when to give up a fight.

If there’s anything that hasn’t changed over the years, he realized, it’s that you are a good director. Even though you weren’t directing high school films anymore, you were directing command over a team that knew how to do their job right for you to make the right decisions.

It shows maturity, experience, expertise—things Chan isn’t sure he has right now with his position.

He's overlooking the balcony down toward the red carpet with the Han River as its backdrop, reflecting the lights from tonight's movie premiere afterparty. From above, he sees the stars of tonight's show: Vernon Chwe and his film director, a rising icon from the indie scene whose talent has now finally gotten the spotlight it deserves. 

Seeing them arm-in-arm and their eyes meeting each other every so often, he could see that what he initially saw as a scandal turned out to be mutual respect for their respective artistry. It was unmistakable to see the affection they had for each other—maybe it was even on the verge of something deeper and truer.

He used to walk down red carpets like this, mostly alone, usually with fellow labelmates and unit members, but never with someone on his arm. Such was the life of an idol, one he can never escape, no matter where he goes.

Idly, he allows himself to daydream about what would have happened if things turned out another way—if maybe he did things differently, said things differently.

Maybe that one night with you all those years ago would've turned out different. Maybe it could've been you two arm-in-arm on this red carpet.

Maybe…

Maybe he should stop. This is all futile anyway.

“Congratulations, Mr. Lee.” He looks back to see you enter the balcony with two glasses of champagne in each hand. “The first successful movie premiere under your belt.”

He lets out a self-conscious laugh. “I believe the recognition should all go to you, Ms. Y/L/N. Congratulations.” He grabs the glass that you were offering and raises it toward you. He waits.

“This must be the first time you’ve shown me such kindness.” You drink from your glass without meeting his. This doesn’t escape him. Smirking, he sips the champagne from his own.

Chan chooses his next words carefully. “I’d say the same to you, but you’d deny it. As always.” You roll your eyes at him, even though he was right.

“And as promised,” he continues, “you have the privilege of telling me I’m wrong. Go ahead, I won’t hold it against you.”

You give him a questioning yet smug look. “I’d rather tell you that I am right, as expected. I know what I’m doing, Chan. There’s a reason why the board chose me as part of their risk management committee, and not you. Sorry.”

“No offense taken.”

You both stand in silence, equally unsure where to bring this conversation. The past few months had been civil, to say the least. Since that tense standoff in his office before that ended with you storming out, and him having no choice but to give the final sign-off on the documents to proceed with the project, you both avoided any other opportunity to be alone with each other.

It proved to be easier than expected, given that both of you had business partners, teams, directors and producers, and a lot more people to busy yourselves with. Both of your secretaries had learned how to work with each other very well—if any message could be coursed through them, you two would do it.

What you both didn’t admit, which was plenty evident as time went on, was that you needed each other. The same still held true after all these years: you two worked better together. The whole company could see that your strong voices, while attempting to drown each other out, instead complemented each other in every key meeting and discussion.

This brought Sebong Corp to a whole new high as seen in both company stocks and public sentiment. Your joint presentation during the last board of directors meeting was applauded for innovation toward a fresh new direction for the company. Equal praises were given, but the board directed more compliments to the CEO.

But Chan knew, deep down inside him, that everything would not have been possible if it weren’t for you—who knew the ins and outs of the company and the industry, how to manipulate the data and navigate negotiations. He was just Sebong Corp’s shining star executive who could sway the room with his carefully practiced charm. But you were the mind and the heart, the true talent of the company.

In this rare moment alone with you, he wonders how he can best package all those sentiments into a statement palatable enough for you to accept. Especially coming from him. He is still plenty convinced that you hate his guts.

“Can I tell you something plainly? Off the record. Work hours are officially over anyway.”

Chan is caught off guard by your casual tone. What surprised him even more was how you sounded unsure, tentative, almost trying to mask what he might consider as vulnerability. He hums in approval.

“You might not think you’re doing well, but you are. This is coming from someone with years in the company, okay? Yeah, you’re not perfect, but no one is. For what it’s worth, I see what you’re doing.”

“What are these high praises I’m receiving all of a sudden?”

“You’re almost a year into this CEO business. As your CFO, it’s also my job to tell you if you’re doing a shit job. And you’re not. Especially for someone with virtually no corporate experience to speak of.”

“I would never have survived this without you. You know that, right? You don’t give yourself enough credit for saving my ass how many times, so thank you.” A beat. “I know that you expected to be CEO before I came into the picture. I believe you should’ve.”

You shrug. “That’s life.” And he senses it, how you’re starting to close off again. Wrong move, Chan. But he takes his chances.

“Can I tell you something plainly, then?” You nod.

“I admit that I regret a few things. No, a lot of things. Most of all, I regret how I treated you.”

It takes you a while to realize what he’s talking about, but it becomes evident that he isn’t talking about your professional business anymore. The laugh that came from your lips was humorless. “Isn’t it too late for all of this, Chan?”

“It’s never too late to offer a proper apology to someone who deserves it.”

“I’ve made peace with our past a long time ago. It’s really not that big of a deal anymore.”

“I don’t think that’s true. The fact that you’re being defensive like this says otherwise.”

“I’m not defen—” He cuts you off with a raised eyebrow, sipping from his champagne as if waiting for you to finish. You drink from your glass and busy yourself with flippant nonchalance.

“Y/N.” You meet his eyes despite the fear of seeing someone else, a younger version of Chan that you could never run away from. “I’m on your side, you know? Trust me, I’m not your enemy. I never have been, and I don’t want to be.”

I’m not your enemy.

With a single sentence, he managed to bring you back to a time years ago when you two didn’t know any better, when feelings took over rationale, and when you both held up your egos rather than opening up space for understanding. You were both young.

“I realized that eventually. We were just two hurt people hurting people. Especially the ones they love.”

“Or loved?” He furrows his eyebrows as he looks to you from his respectable distance, but your gaze is far away, reaching across the other side of the Han River.

“It’s possible to love someone still, in a different way or form, or maybe in a sort of bottled-up memory of the love you once had. You can never take away someone’s right to love you.”

Chan says his next words, attempting yet failing to hold his tongue. He can taste the bitter hope that they contained. “What are you saying?”

“You know how a river just flows? There are days when it's strong, desperate, rushing nonstop, and there are days when it’s nothing but calm. Don’t you feel that way sometimes?”

You continue with a laugh. “It’s also funny how we keep ending up at the same place, too—by a riverside, as if telling us that we’re like two rivers just running parallel to each other with our own forces, both hot and cold, fast and slow, attempting to converge but failing to do so.”

Chan lifts a corner of his lips. “Since when were you this poetic?”

“Since I went to therapy,” your tone is matter-of-fact. “If I could, I’d charge you some of those bills.”

Chan shuts his eyes and purses his lips, a slight smile showing. “I do not know what to reply to that.”

“You don’t have to.”

You down the remaining contents of your champagne glass before you continue. “I hope this is the last time we ever speak of this.”

Chan looks at you, and you hold his gaze. And you both finally see, almost hear it.

Everything that was left unsaid.

And you both understand.

“We’re okay, Chan,” you say. “We’ll be okay.”

You hold out your hand. He takes it, his grasp firm. You exchange this formal handshake as a means to resolve all that is left. You both don’t deny how it lingers by fractions of seconds for it to be purely professional.

When he lets go of you, he smiles softly. “I never got the chance to congratulate you properly.”

“What do you mean? You just did.”

He nods toward your hand, and you know what he’s talking about in an instant.

“Ah. Seems we were both too busy antagonizing each other to even celebrate anything.”

“They're lucky to have you. I'm serious.”

The glint of the small crystals on your finger catch your eyes. And maybe for the first time since you two started working together, the curve that ghosted your lips was a genuine one.

“Thank you, Chan.”

The Ending—

You sit at your desk waiting, anticipating the notification. You had just sent the email a few minutes ago. Now, you’re just waiting for him to finish reading it for sure.

Ping. The notification sound popped up on your phone.

CEO Lee Chan 💬 please come to my office immediately.

You take a deep breath and start making your way to meet him. You expected this day to come, but maybe a bit later than sooner. Still, you brace yourself for the conversation you were about to have.

A knock on his door and you push on the handle, stepping inside to see him settling down on his seat. He was wearing a bespoke suit, tailor-made to let him look his smartest. He just came from a pivotal business meeting for the company—a potential partnership that could spell major change. You would know, because you were the one who set it up.

It was about time Chan met with Carat Company’s CEO Jeon Wonwoo. You’d been wanting to secure this deal for years now, but he was too busy dealing with Sebong Corp this past year to probably even think about this. So you took matters into your own hands to turn this rivalry into something more productive for both companies.

Apparently, he knew their Head of Legal, so when your executive team met them for lunch, they hit it off quickly. Mr. Jeon and the rest of their team were thankfully receptive to the presented proposals.

It’s just a shame that you won’t be around to see things through.

“Y/N-ssi. We were just together for that business lunch. Did you really need to write an email before telling me about this?”

You shrugged. “You know me. I follow protocol. HR will kill me if I don’t, and you know how much a pain in the ass Minghao can get.”

“You didn’t even state a reason in your email. I thought we were past this antagonism. We’re okay, right?” He drops this so casually, but in reality, he was shaken to his core.

“Yeah, but I knew you’d want to speak with me anyway. So I’m here.”

“Why are you resigning?”

You give him a bittersweet smile as you sit in the upholstered chair in front of his desk. “I’d like to move on.”

He blinks. “Maybe you can be a bit more specific here. You’re not giving me much to work with right now, Y/N.”

“I know. But you have to understand this wasn’t an easy decision for me to make either.” Your tone is calm in an attempt to break this news gently.

He waits in silence for you to continue. This is an executive tactic of his that you know well. So you have no choice but to follow.

“I’m moving to the US with my fiancé. He was reassigned to California, and I would like to go with him.”

It was your turn to wait in silence as Chan took in this information. He leaned back on his chair with his arms crossed, studying you first, then a distant point to your side interchangeably.

When he speaks again, it’s slow and careful. “Have you accepted any offers there already?”

“Not yet, but I’ll be looking.”

“Why not stay here for a few months with us while you’re still looking for a job?”

“I told you. I’d like to move on.”

His words are measured when he continues. “Your fiancé knows we work together, right?”

“Yes, Chan. He knows everything. Even the past.” When he remains silent, you add, “And no, that’s not the reason why I’m leaving.”

“Then what is?” He’s struggling to understand. He’s not only losing a key asset of his company, but he feels like he’s losing you again.

He mentally slaps himself. What was he thinking? You were never his to lose anyway. Not anymore.

“I’ve been working non-stop since university—with school and my part-time jobs. I’ve been working to stay with this company for most of my professional life—more than seven years at this point. But I think I’ve reached the point where I need to distance myself physically from my current life for things to make sense again.”

“Do things not make sense while you’re working here?”

“It’s not just this job, Chan.” You pause. “Why did you accept this CEO offer?”

“Out of familial obligation,” he deadpans.

“No, beyond that. I know there’s more to it than that. Whatever that is, it’s the same for me. Shouldn’t you know by now that we’re more alike than I’d want us to be?”

As always, you were right. Chan understands. “Alright. Then let’s leave it at that. I don’t think I can do much about it, can I?”

“I’m really sorry, but you can’t. No offer you have will make me stay.”

“Not even if I offer you the CEO role?”

You sit up straighter at his statement. “Why would you do that? Besides, you can’t even.”

“I can endorse someone. I’m still a part of the board as the CEO.”

“Do you really want to leave, though? I just told you that you’re doing well. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Chan knows the answer to that question. He missed being onstage, but it seems that his roots proved him to be someone who should lead. Just as yours proved that you could return to your first love: stories.

“So what now?”

You take in a deep breath. “Hmm, I’m not sure yet. For the first time in my life, I won’t be working for a while. I’d also like to take this time to rest and focus on the ‘moving my whole life to the US’ aspect of things for now.”

He nods slowly, accepting the finality of your statements. “Okay. Let’s schedule a few meetings then. Minghao will need to hear about this before anyone else, so I suggest you meet him right now if he’s available. I’ll also need to make a few calls to look for a potential replacement.”

He stands from his seat, which you take as a cue to this conversation’s end. He holds out his hand for you to shake, one that you return. And you both deliberately let your hold on each other linger. Who knows when the next time will be?

“Thank you, Y/N. For what it’s worth, it was definitely a pleasure working with you. Until next time.”

He grabs his phone to make those said calls. We move on, as you mentioned. On to the next.

“Chan-ah.”

He looks up at you. Your hand was on the handle, ready to leave.

“We were never enemies. I’ll always be on your side. I’m rooting for you.”

“You too.”

You both smile.

[chanranghaeys]

🍷 in vino veritas

What better birthday gift can one give than the gift of truth?

pairing: seungkwan x fem!reader word count: 3.4k genre: fluff, smut/nsfw rating: r-18. nsfw, mdni! tags: oblivious idiots in love with each other, mutual pining, literally can’t resist each other once they start, we're still celebrating seungkwan's birthday here, mentions of food, barely proofread pls bear with me warnings: alcohol, allusions to sex, eventual sex haha, making out, dry humping (?) making love, groping, fingering, implied unprotected sex (help idk how to do nsfw tags pls tell me if i missed anything

a/n: this was based on two requests lifetimes ago by rachel @strxwberry-skiess and tara @diamonddaze01. i have a feeling you two don’t remember it anymore haha but i’m tagging both of u anyway. this was also intended as a seungkwan birthday fic that i’ve been revising back and forth and just wasn’t satisfied enough to post until now, hence the setting. i hope this marks the end of my writing drought—i desperately need it.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

It started with a sweater and spilled soju.

“I’m so sorry!”

“No, don’t worry about it!”

“But it’s your favorite sweater. I just ruined it.”

Technically, you both did. It actually started with dinner at your place because you owed him. Big time.

A few weeks ago, you dared to be the only one who didn’t bring a gift to Seungkwan’s birthday gathering—and everyone called you out for it. So with the whole party as witness, Hansol and Chan made you promise to give Seungkwan a gift and treat him to dinner to make up for this huge lapse in judgment.

Sincerely, you wish you could slap those two in the face sometimes. But you wouldn’t, of course. They just knew exactly what they were trying to set up then.

You and Seungkwan decided on a simple homemade dinner at your place because according to him, “You never invite me to your place! How many times have you invited those two idiots to your place without me?”

If only you could tell him the real reason why that was always the case.

When the fateful day finally came, Seungkwan arrived at your apartment early to genuinely offer his help, much to your gratitude. He was even gracious enough to bring your favorite yangnyeom fried chicken.

“I knew you’d like it. It’s your favorite,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug when you questioned him with his offering.

In return, you claimed, “Just don’t go expecting me to give you your gift right away. I’m saving it for the end of the night because it’s special.”

He kept saying that “you don’t have to do this, they were just poking fun.” But you were never one to back down from a promise—especially if it involved Seungkwan.

Dinner went by easily. The weather allowed for a window propped open to let in some of the cool breeze that added to what you believe was a nice atmosphere. Your plates had long been empty when Seungkwan made his way to the fridge to get a refill of water. Instead, he let out a cry of disbelief.

“Ya! You have five bottles of soju and you didn’t bother bringing them out?”

You stayed silent. There was a reason why you didn’t bring those out on purpose. It was to avoid incidents like this, because you and Seungkwan—alone—and alcohol was a combination that had never happened before and an equation that you tried to avoid solving for as long as possible.

Fate had other plans today, apparently.

In his usual way, whenever there was alcohol in his system, he turned into the clingy kind of drunk that he was. This time, however, you noticed that he was different somehow. He was braver, louder, clingier. He was never like this when you two were drinking with friends.

As the late afternoon turned to evening, you two found yourselves inching closer to each other with every story and joke exchanged. This time, a particularly effective punchline you delivered had him in a laughing mess, with his hands instantly reaching for you. He just failed to notice the two very full glasses in your hands at that moment.

This was when chaos ensued.

In the aftermath, he looked at you and your obliviousness. “It’s just soju and water. Nothing a quick wash can’t do.”

He let out an audible sigh of defeat. Without thinking, he proceeded to peel off the ruined piece of clothing, revealing a thin white shirt that was barely there—riding up along with the sweater and revealing his torso. The sight got worse as he completely removed the sweater, the shirt clinging to his chest and still wet from the spilled liquid. You tried to avert your eyes as quickly as you could, but Seungkwan had already caught you staring.

“I, uh…” He pulled down his shirt and held the wet sweater in his hand. You cleared your throat and tried to gather your wits.

“I’m a terrible host. Give me that, I can chuck it in the laundry. I’ll get you a new shirt.” You stood to do as you said. You ignored the fact that he followed you all the way to your room, stopping to lean at your doorway as you rummaged through your drawers for a spare shirt.

You ignored how you could feel his eyes on you, probably spurred on with bravery because you had your back turned toward him. If only you could see how intense his gaze was, looking you up and down while weighing the two options in his head carefully.

He broke the silence first with a question you least expected. “You can talk to me honestly, right?”

“Of course, Seungkwan.” You busied yourself with looking for any shirt, trying to buy time to avoid meeting the piercing gaze you knew would meet.

“Were you…staring at me earlier?”

How dare— “Uh…”

“Okay, I’ll start with an easier question. Are you sober?”

“Yes.” You stand to face him, but not quite meeting his eyes yet. “I mean, I am now. Who wouldn’t be after you spill two glasses on your—friend?”

He laughs. “That’s true.” He pretends to not notice that slight hitch in your voice earlier.

“Here’s your shirt.” You hold up the oversized piece of clothing.

He pushes himself from your doorway and walks—in your perspective—at a painstakingly slow pace. His shirt is still a bit wet and still clinging just a bit in all the right places.

He stops right in front of you, a few steps too close to excuse it for a friendly distance. It absolutely was not.

He gingerly takes the shirt from your hand. To your utter surprise, he replaces it by taking your hand in his. You mask your nerves with an equally nervous laugh as you ask him, “Are you sober?”

“Yeah. Well, I can tell you that I’m sober enough to clearly know what I’m doing.” He continues even as he slowly intertwines his fingers in yours. “When we were in Italy, they said something during our wine tasting. ‘In vino veritas.’”

You were familiar with this saying. “‘In wine—’”

“‘There is truth.’” He completes the saying, taking yet another step closer. “We didn’t exactly drink wine, but can you still tell me the truth?”

You debate with light speed in your head where and how you want this conversation to end. It seemed there was only one answer the moment he decided to close the distance by settling his one hand on your waist and the other brushing your cheek—the clean shirt long forgotten on the floor.

Your heart was racing, and you knew this wasn’t because of the alcohol any longer. The air was thick with unresolved tension. You both knew what this was. This only happened when the two of you were alone, where awkward smiles and silences helped fill in the undeniable attraction that you both kept denying.

So you swallow your pride and nod in reply, and he smiles at your response before continuing, “So, were you staring?”

“I’m still staring now,” you say as you travel across his torso still wrapped in his wet shirt.

His chuckle turned into a laugh, his beautifully musical and infectious laugh, tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “Stop it! I’m losing focus. God, I really didn’t think this through, did I?”

You were nothing if honest, even more so when it came to Seungkwan. He had no problem asking you this question because that’s what he liked about you the most. You weren’t like other people—like him even—who beat around the bush and never mean what they actually say.

“Maybe not,” you say while holding back a laugh of your own.

The smile drops from his face in an instant, his smiling lips closing together in the blink of an eye. When his eyes open, they contain an unspoken depth, his expression changing into something more serious than you’ve ever seen from him before.

“Help me take this off, will you?”

“Why don’t you kiss me first before you demand such things?”

He smirks and claims your chin between his fingers. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You two always had that “will they, won’t they” dynamic for the longest time. It seems that tonight, they will. And they did.

The room smelled of sex. It was undeniable at this point to not acknowledge what had just happened between you and Seungkwan. In the heat of the moment and the throes of passion, you had both done things once unspeakable between the two of you.

If only you both knew what constantly went on in your heads the moment you two were separated from each other.

“So, is this the gift?” Seungkwan asks breathlessly, his chest heaving with exertion and his heart still racing at a million beats per minute.

“What?” Your mind was still swimming in stars, still coming down from your high as you curled yourself in his arms and folded against his warm skin.

”This.” He pulls you in closer and tangles your legs with his, endlessly craving for the touch of your skin on his.

You lightly jab his forehead jokingly. “You forget that you initiated all this with your hand-holding and sweet-talking about being honest.”

“Hey, I just wanted a kiss. You gave me so much more.” He nuzzled his nose against yours and, god, you couldn’t get enough of this Seungkwan. If only you knew that this is how he’d be with you, it would’ve been so worth it to tell him how you felt way earlier.

Wait. You haven’t told him how you felt. Not exactly.

But instead, you land your lips chastely on his. “There’s your kiss. Are you happy now?” He nods, but you could see his eyes and his smile being weighed down by impending sleep. He yawns, and you catch it as well and mirror his actions.

“Good night, sleepyhead.” With a final kiss from Seungkwan to your forehead, you both settle into an easy slumber, with both of you feeling lighter in your minds and hearts.

“Seungkwan.”

He stirs, sleep still overtaking his senses. “Hmm?”

“Seungkwan-ah.” You reach up to move his bed hair from his forehead.

“Mhmm?”

And for a moment, you forget what you were supposed to say because you were struck by the beauty of this unguarded version of Seungkwan. You trail your hand from his forehead to the apple of his cheeks, where you feel them move as he smiles.

“Could you turn on the heat? It’s getting a bit cold.”

He opens his eyes to the most beautiful sight of you in the near break of dawn, the first light filtering through the sheer curtains and starting to illuminate your room.

In response, as if by instinct, he leaned down to kiss you, much to your surprise. When he broke away, he could still feel the curve of the smile of your lips against his. “Why don’t I keep you warm, instead?”

He pulled you closer, the heat from his hand traveling across and over your body. Just as he predicted, you feel the heat rising on your cheeks as you recall the intensity and fervor of last night. But you could care less.

Wordlessly, you take him up on his offer, wrapping your arms around his neck and meeting him in another kiss. Wordlessly, he accepts this as your response and he parts your lips open with his to allow entrance to go in deeper, tasting you for all you are against the ecstasy of your tongue.

While his mouth plays with yours, his hands continue to roam the ebbs and flows of your body, from your neck, your breasts, your waist, and finally tracing the curve of your ass with his hands. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, leaving open-mouthed kisses as he raises your one leg, allowing it to wrap around his waist.

In this position, your heated core was wide open for his evident arousal. It was as if the events of last night were not enough to satiate your wants, your needs, and deeper down, your true feelings. Your bodies stay flush against each other, skin to skin as if you could not come any closer. You move in sync, accompanied by the gasps and moans, the hitches in both your breaths, as you feel his fingers working their way down there dictating the rhythm that you two would move to while your own fingers clench to fist his hair.

If last night was desperate, needy, almost making up for lost time, this morning was deliberate, languid, almost lazy with the way his lips never left yours to swallow all the delicious sounds coming from your mouth. When he finally filled your awaiting entrance, your bodies felt like a natural fit with one another. Each thrust between your slick bodies felt like a resounding mantra in the stillness of the daybreak—a mantra of unsaid promises and unresolved thoughts spoken through actions with every moment that his lips latch, tug, bite at yours.

The light of the dawn filtered through your room, casting an ethereal glow on your bodies. Yet this morning, you both see nothing but stars. When you both come down from the heavens, you take the time to go to the bathroom, while he takes the time to turn on the heat despite your complaints.

“You’ll thank me later,” Seungkwan said as you returned to his welcoming arms. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, you tangled your limbs in his and let sleep take over your senses once more.

By the time you come to again, it’s 9 am. The sun was fully shining through your curtains to the point of almost blinding you. The urge to pee was overwhelming, so you disentangled yourself from the sheets in your sluggish state. Sitting on the toilet, you rub your eyes and feel the aches of your body settle in—along with other realizations.

Like the fact that you were butt naked. In your bed. With Seungkwan.

And you two did not just fuck last night. You made love with him in the wee hours of the morning.

Holy shit.

As you splash water on your tired face, you look in the mirror and see…an unexpected glow. You touch your lips, trailing your hand down your neck and your chest, recalling all the other places where Seungkwan’s hands caressed you. You start to smile, yet it is gone as quickly as it came.

Now what?

With resolve, you step out of the bathroom to face the reality of the morning. What greets you is the sight of Seungkwan propped up against the headboard, checking his phone, with his bed hair and bare chest turning to look at you. He smiles, one that reaches his eyes.

He is so beautiful.

His eyes travel across your naked body, and you suddenly feel shy. You look across the floor for the discarded shirt from last night, pulling it over you and grabbing a clean pair of panties from your drawer.

He just watches you throughout this charade.

“I…uh, went through some of your clothes. Borrowed a pair of shorts. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that's okay.”

“For a moment, I thought you left me. I woke up to an empty bed.”

You stop, fully turning to see the amusement in his expression. “You may have forgotten that this is my room. If anyone should have left, it would be you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did you want me to? Leave?”

You don’t answer, afraid that whatever comes out of your mouth will betray your sensibilities. Instead, you sit down on the empty space of bed beside him.

“Are we still telling the truth?”

One side of his mouth quirks up. “Always, I hope.”

“You should know that there’s a reason why I never wanted you to come over here in the first place.”

He physically winces, anticipating the worst from that statement. “And that is?”

“Because I don’t think I’d ever let you leave. That’s the truth.”

A sigh of relief. “Come here.” He closes the gap between you by clasping your hand and pulling you back into bed, encircling you in his arms.

You lay there together, your head on his chest as he mindlessly plays with your hair. He’d always been a handsy person—all his friends knew that—but most especially to the people he had taken a particular liking to. His fixation was always different with each person. With you, it was your hair.

“Would you like to hear my truth?” He asks.

You wordlessly nod.

“I’ve always wanted to do that with you.”

“Do what?”

“You know…last night, this morning,” Seungkwan trails off.

“No way.”

“Yes, way.”

Your eyes were as wide as a doe’s. “You…never made it obvious or anything.”

“That’s because I’m a decent person who doesn’t act on my primal impulses out of nowhere. Please, you’re too damn pretty and sexy for me to ignore you from the moment we met.”

You slap his chest. “You’re playing. Stop it.”

“I’m serious! It didn’t help at all when I found out that you listened to all the same girl groups that I did. You think I don’t see you when you dance? When you move your damn hips? I have eyes, you know. I’m a simple man.”

“Okay, okay. I see you, girl group enthusiast.” You smiled up at him. “I guess I’ll shake my ass at you more often, then.”

“Oh, please, you will ruin me.” He bites back a grin. “No, but honestly—beyond that,” he said as he looked at you pointedly, “you unlocked this little kid inside me again whenever I was with you, and…I realized I wanted to do more with you. And be more with you. It just grew and grew until it hit me that I just I always wanted you around.”

As if to prove his next point, he meets your eyes and doesn’t let go of your gaze. “If you let me in and let me stay, I don’t think I’d ever leave if you don’t want me to.”

You purse your lips to hold back the smile growing on your lips. Your heart was pounding, pondering the consequences of the next few words you were about to say. 

“Well, if you say that then another truth I have is that I’ve always held back from you. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed that.”

“I did.”

“Well, I guess I didn’t do a good enough job of hiding it.”

“Why though?”

“I couldn’t trust myself around you.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Have I not made you comfortable enough around me? Have I not been the definition of a poster boy best friend?”

“Exactly. You think I could let you go if I mess up and start kissing you on a whim? Seungkwan, your friends can be full of shit sometimes. Believe me when I say that a lot of times, you’re definitely the hottest guy in the room.”

“Wow, you must love me a whole lot for you to say something like that.”

“What if I do?”

He stills. “Do you really?”

You give him a reassuring smile. “We’re still telling the truth, aren’t we?” But the truth also gives you away. You look down as your smile falters. “Friendship is always such a fragile thing to break. And I don’t think I ever want to lose you.”

“Like I said,” he says while lifting your chin up to meet his eyes. They were glowing, and you realize it reminded you of your own eyes when you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror. It was as if you two were reflections of one another—the way you two always were without realizing it. “If you let me in and let me stay, I don’t think I’d ever leave if you don’t want me to.”

You could do nothing but smile.

And you hear both of your stomachs growl at the same time. You both laugh, loud, full, and deep-bellied, the only way you two do when you’re with each other. There were never any fake laughs if you were together.

You land a quick peck on his lips. “I’ll make you breakfast. Consider it a gift.”

You stood up to leave the bed, and you wait until it clicks in his head. “So you never got me a gift?” The disbelief on his face was almost enough to move you to guilt. But you had another ace up your sleeve.

“Why don’t you get your ass out of bed first and help me make breakfast so I can give you the real gift?”

He huffs. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I’m lucky you’re telling the truth.” You wink and leave him smirking. In wine there is truth, they say, and in truth there is a newfound sense of freedom he can’t wait to share with you. 

[chanranghaeys]

☀️ the boy who was the sun

How fitting that you meet him once again under a sky that casts a million colors, the same way that your life turned into a million colors all at once from the moment you first met him?

pairing: lee seokmin x gn!reader word count: 1.6k+ genre: angst to comfort to fluff rating: g tags: exes to second-chance lovers, implied breakup off the page, dk is like the sun :(, sunsets are also beginnings warnings: mentions of family and career pressure

a/n: this is completely inspired by @svtreverie and her words, in turn inspired by hozier’s “shrike,” so in turn i have lifted some passages from you and your brain. i love you, c. please note that i started this in april 2024 because of you, and i finally have the chance to finish it now. i dedicate this to you. dedications also to fellow cuties g @tusswrites and @miniseokminnies bc i can hehe. happy dokyeom day! ☀️

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The sunset came upon you suddenly as you turned the corner, the sun coming out from behind the buildings that shielded its setting rays. You always thought that the sun shined brighter when it set, as sunrises were always softer. Besides, you never really caught the rising of the sun as a self-professed night owl, waking up when it was already high above the world at its peak.

It was the peak of the golden hour. Today, it was a hazy rose gold mixed with pinks and purples that were still warm with the glow of day. You preferred sunsets this way, calmer and less harsh than the torrid streaks of red, yellow, and orange. You wondered what was so special about the past few hours for your eyes to be blessed with this sight.

You didn’t frequent this city often, but that has changed recently. In past years, you used to come here as a young adult starting out in the corporate life. You would wait for your father to fetch you after work so you could come home to a house that lacked a certain warmth, a warmth that you have only felt in numbered moments—memories that were branded in your mind, with some that you’d rather forget.

But time has changed you, and you now shadow your father’s footsteps as next in line to his company. It took a while for you to—as your parents put it—“come to your senses,” but fate had you surrender to it. Your feet moved on impulse as you followed your father’s footsteps, denying that it was against your will.

Besides, did you really have a choice in the matter? In the end, nothing did, anyway.

Today you were alone, and the end of the work day allowed you to finally take a deep breath in this corner green of the bustling business district. Some voice in your head told you to take a walk rather than book a car to take you straight home to the solace of your room in the cover of night.

Maybe subconsciously, you were also looking for the motion of your feet in a place separated from the confines of your comfort zone. Just for today.

The park was busier than usual, with more people both strolling and rushing on opposite sides of intersecting paths. Thankfully, you found solace in the anonymity that the crowd provided you; The joggers in their pace, the kids blowing bubbles at their parents’ faces, the dog walkers and cat lovers, the cliques that perched on their picnic blankets—no one knew who you were, the heir to one of the country’s largest conglomerates. A title whose weight you wish was never hung on your shoulders.

You looked up at the sky once more, savoring the brief moment that nature’s canvas was showing everyone before it was swallowed by the inevitable dark. Phones were raised and camera lenses pointed at the stunning scene in an attempt to capture the fleeting phenomenon. You decide to do the same.

You snap the sky at every angle, finding the best one you can while turning around in place. You realize that you must’ve looked so silly doing so, but again, no one knew who you were anyway. Just when you thought you were satisfied, you raise your phone once more for one final photo. You look at the screen and through the lens of your phone camera, you see him.

Wait a minute. You shake your head and lower your phone to look at the person with your own eyes, making sure that they aren’t deceiving you. They weren’t.

He was in front of you, a few meters away. He was transfixed by the colors above him, doing the exact same thing you were doing just moments ago—but you knew even until now that he’d work harder for the photo. He wasn’t using a phone, but his trusty mirrorless camera snapping away at the sky. He lowers the camera to eye level, capturing the chaos through his lens of calm.

His lens traveled, looking for the next subject to immortalize in a photo. Before you knew it, the lens was aimed right at you.

He froze.

You could just imagine the thoughts going through his head as he lowered his camera. You didn’t care if you were standing in the way because you couldn’t see anyone but him.

Him. The boy who was the sun—your sun. The boy whose light was so bright that it was blinding that it always hurt, but in a good way.

The boy whose light was so bright and blinding, that in the end it just hurt.

Instinct took over. And while it hurt your heart to do it again, you looked down and turned around, away from the only source of light to ever grace your life.

Because you could not do it any longer.

You could not burden him with pressures that were beyond his control. You could not bring him back into a world where the only words for him were, "You don't belong." You could not let him back into the darkness you have made for yourself. You could not protect him from yourself if he reenters the tall walls you have built around you.

In the corner of your eye, you see him start to move, and you begin walking as quick as you can. Your mind started to fill with thoughts you worked so hard to push away—thoughts, memories, unspoken words, and everything else that was for him and no one else.

You refuse to believe the heavy footsteps growing louder as they neared you. You refuse to believe that he would actually still reach for you after the way you pushed him away all those years ago. And even when you felt the grip of a hand on yours, you still refused to believe that it was his fingers and his palms that caught your wrist, how naturally it fit, closing around it as if was a sheath to your sharp edges.

You hear it—your name from his voice, so indelible in your mind, for all its lilts and tones when he both spoke and sang. His voice, that you have not heard in five years, immediately brought you back to the day you first met and all the days since then.

His voice that, in one second, immediately broke down the walls that you put up around yourself since that last day.

You find your voice, surprising yourself that you did. “Seokmin. Hi.” You were breathless, and your voice showed it.

“Hi.” He replied, and he smiled, the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, breaking out from his face, one that could not hide the pure emotion. “I’m so happy to see you here.”

Before you could register what happened, you found yourself replying involuntarily, “Me too.”

And with that simple statement, something shifted in you.

Five years have changed you, there’s no doubt about that. And in those five years, you’ve come to terms with the painful truth behind why you let him go, with the question of “Why?” still haunting your every moment of regret.

On the worst nights, you find yourself wrapped in the jacket he put around your shoulders for the last time, right before you parted. The one that granted you his faithfully unfailing warmth in the cold, grateful it was there to catch your tears.

On the best days, you absentmindedly hum the tune from the LUCY song he said was his favorite, the one that you came to love just as much as he did. Whether you knew it or not, he was still in everything you did.

Because one thing you knew and you were sure of—you loved him, with every piece and fiber within you. You loved him hard, too hard, so much so to the point that you had no choice but to let him go.

Yet here you are, with the life-shattering realization that you still love him, titles and labels and families and the whole world be damned, because the man standing in front of you was the same man who still had his heart on his sleeve. You could see it in his smile.

How fitting that you meet him once again under a sky that casts a million colors, the same way that your life turned into a million colors all at once from the moment you first met him?

In the midst of the crowd and the afterglow of the sunset, in a place where you could trust to remain unseen and unknown, you find once again the only person who was and is still the light in your darkest days. How could you have ever denied this plain and simple truth?

It was with his smile that you felt it again—it was so bright that it was blinding, and an ache in your heart spasmed at the warmth that spread from it. It hurt, as it always did these past years, but now…it was in a good way again.

The setting sun gave way to the dusk. Artificial light replaced the natural glow of the day to keep the surroundings lit. But underneath its canopy, you couldn’t help the light blooming again from within you, slowly making its way to the smile that formed on your lips.

With the glimmer of this newfound light, you resolve to fight every single instinct within you—to walk away, to move your feet in the opposite direction, to run from the feelings that you have always avoided.

You start small, with one, two steps towards him. You could whisper, and he would hear it because he knew that as long as it came from you, it didn’t need to be shouted. He knew that you’d fly like a bird to him now if you could.

Because nothing else but your truth can illuminate the path ahead of you. And your truth was standing right in front of you.

[chanranghaeys]

📝 here, there, and everywhere

This journal belongs to: me. If found, please contact this number. (And please do not read it—unless you want to read the ramblings of a person who fails to deny their feelings for a certain someone.)

pairing: lee chan x gn!reader word count: 2.5k+ genre: fluff for (belated) happy chan day and carat day! rating: pg tags: college friends, they grew up, time skips between entries, mutual pining, happy (open) ending, stream of consciousness, excessive italics, please read the whole thing as if it were a private journal of sorts warnings: mentions of alcohol, death of a family member (brief mention, off the page)

a/n: this is a self-indulgent piece on my ultimate crush and the love of my (kpop) life, lee chan. i can’t keep denying you, so here we go. in an alternate universe, you would’ve been my best friend that i loved to hate and hated to love, until one of us finally gave in to our feelings and hoped for the best. happy birthday chan! you’ve given me nothing but color in my life ever since i became a carat. i wish you all the beautiful flower paths ahead ✨

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Dear Chan,

You must think me pathetic if you ever found one of these letters.

It sucks…this little crush I’ve discovered I have on you. And I am only saying this ONCE on the page. And to no one else. Because when you talk about a crush, it only grows, right?

So I'll just talk about it to myself.

I hate crushes because they are so unexplainable. They’re unexplainable feelings that latch on to you so hard and never let you go until you fumble and mess up and just make an utter fool of yourself.

I first found out I had a crush on you last month.

I had long admired you from afar through your dancing. You’re beautiful when you dance—in the zone, focused, bursting with energy. I’m genuinely jealous of how you can do the things you do with your body, how you tell such beautiful stories with every little move you make.

But it was that time during a production runthrough—the simultaneous evaluations—where you made that one mistake almost fatal to your team on that one sequence you spent weeks perfecting.

Yet there you were onstage, just laughing it off. So instead of your team being anxious or frustrated, they just laughed along with you.

It turned out to be the best performance of the night, your laughing played off as banter and camaraderie by the guest audiences.

That’s when I first felt the intense grip of this thing called feelings on my poor little heart.

Absolutely disgusting.

Anyway.

This “writing letters I'll never send to you” is all just for me to really process all these feelings I’ve discovered for you. No other reason aside from that. In my head, this is a form of acknowledgment so I can easily get over whatever this is.

So yeah. Feelings. A crush. On you—someone younger than me—of all people. I can’t believe it.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

We were crossing the street when you suddenly held my hand. You did that to pull me to the other side of the road farther from the direction of the car.

“Be careful,” you said.

I shouldn’t feel special. Maybe you do this with everyone else anyway.

I hate how I can’t help but feel just a teensy bit special. Indulge me on this.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I hate how you’re so stubborn. I hate how you’re so passionate. I hate how you’re such an amazing dancer. If I didn’t know better, I’d be so goddamn jealous of you.

Well, maybe I already am.

But above all that, I feel so in awe of you.

I hate how amazing you are in everything you do.

I hate how you’re actually inspiring me to be a better person. Little by little.

You’re inspiring me to be more diligent, to work harder, to believe in myself and my artistry way more than I ever thought I could—even through the infinite doubts.

Because that’s what you do to me.

“You can do it!” you said. “I’ll be right in the audience cheering for you, too. Because you’re my number one supporter, I’ll also be your number one supporter.”

I hate how you’re right. Why do you always have to be right?

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I don’t get it. I really don’t.

I don’t understand why you would do such things to me and for me.

It was such a simple and offhand remark.

“Is that a new necklace?” you asked.

“Nah,” I replied.

“It’s pretty. I don’t usually see you wearing that necklace. Where's the other one? The silver one with the daisy pendants?”

It was only because that one—my favorite one—broke and I didn’t have the time to have it fixed yet. Too busy with org scheds.

And you know what you said?

“Give it to me. I’ll have it fixed.”

What in the actual—

You didn’t have to do it, Chan.

Yet there I was, handing over my most prized possession...to you, my...friend.

You better give it back to me fixed, or else.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

We’re in the library pretending to study for this godforsaken exam. I’ve practically given up on it.

(lol just kidding I can’t do that)

So we’re on a break. You’re sitting right in front of me, writing something down in your own notebook. Good thing the tables are a bit wide. I really wish that you won’t be able to see your name plastered on top of this page.

I never pegged you for someone who writes. In my head, I will take this as my own influence over you after my constant stories of how journaling and writing is such a simple thing that can heal you so easily and thoroughly.

Maybe my influence, and Seungkwan’s as well. At least he’s a good influence.

It was so funny, even, how you made a huge show of showcasing your little black notebook. When you opened it, I saw that it was already bookmarked at the halfway point.

So you do write. You have been writing.

Stop making my crush on you grow. Stop.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

You were so drunk last night. I don’t think you’ll remember any of it today.

But I remember everything crystal clear.

You’ve had how many bottles of soju at that point. You slung your arm around me and leaned your head on my shoulder. Never mind how fast my heart was beating at that point. Whether from alcohol, or you know what, I will never know.

You told me, “You’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

Your best friend.

A friend.

A stake to the heart would’ve hurt less, in my opinion.

But then again, better a best friend than nothing at all.

I wish I was as drunk as you were last night. Maybe I could forget that one sentence and just carry on living as if this thing between us is nothing.

As if us holding hands the entire night last night under the guise of you “needing a steady hand to hold so you wouldn't fall because you were drunk as hell” is no indication of any thing.

Whatever this thing is.

Sincerely,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I promised not to write anymore—believe me I tried. We’re best friends, right?

Best friends meet up for breakfast before going separate ways for the day, right?

Best friends make sure to ask if you’re home at the end of every day, right?

Best friends have random snacks or your go-to pick-me-up drink delivered to you when they know you’re having a terrible day, right?

Best friends do that, right?

Even if they’re both in separate relationships already?

I’m so confused. I shouldn’t be, but I can’t make it make sense.

Maybe it’s just me and these lingering and unresolved feelings. I hate them.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

Thank you for meeting me as soon as I called. Thank you for holding me as my world fell apart. Thank you for comforting me even as my tears fell. Thank you for being reliable. Thank you for giving me my comfort ice cream. Thank you for helping me through this breakup even though I know you’re on the brink of your own.

Thank you for being a friend—my friend.

Thank you for always catching me whenever I fall.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’m sorry about the breakup…or am I?

I’m not too sad about it, I’m sorry. I always knew they were a bit off for you. But I hope I’ve been the right kind of friend that you need right now.

Or however you need me. I'll be here for you, the same way you were for me. You know that right?

I know you held back a few tears when we were at the cafe earlier. You loved them, for sure. I know how far you go for love—that's how true your love is.

But you should've seen the look in your eyes. It tells me you’re not too too sad about it either.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Yeah, definitely just me.

Maybe it was more of me wanting to see the spark in your eyes again after you kept denying that it had been gone for so long.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

You should've seen your face earlier. It was so…

With all of your hip-hop and R&B playlists, I never pegged you to be one to appreciate any of the oldies.

“This is my favorite Beatles song,” I said.

You immediately stopped scrolling the phone hidden behind the book reading the book in your hand to listen to “Here, There, and Everywhere” playing from the cafe's tinny speakers, straining to make it out above the chatter of the establishment.

You said you'll pull up the lyrics to read, and as you did, the smile on your face grew ever so slowly with every word that your eyes traveled to. You started to slightly bob your head to the beat while mouthing some of the lyrics as the song continued on.

Okay, fine, I was watching you. You didn't notice anyway.

“It’s a great song,” you said. You looked up with this sense of meaning in your eyes. I feel like mine had a look of question marks in them.

Your fingers danced on your phone. I’m sure you added it to one of your playlists. Well, I hope.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

This is the last letter I’ll write. I promise.

It’s graduation tomorrow. If you give me nothing and nothing happens within the next month of tomorrow, I will stop this nonsense and maybe try to finally get over these feelings I seem to have for you.

Whatever it is.

I just…don’t think I can bring myself to do it first.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

This is so random but you just suddenly crossed my mind. And I remembered this notebook full of so-called "unsent letters to you."

I wonder how you are and if you're doing okay. I don't know why we grew apart after graduation. I just...I don't know. I can't even think about it without my head aching.

It does kind of feel like there's a hollow void in the shape of you somewhere in my body, particularly somewhere around my chest area.

(nope, I won't say it)

I hope you're doing alright.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I can’t believe you came. It's been five years since we saw each other, three since we last spoke, yet you came—the person I least expected to see in the wake.

I never thought there'd be another letter but how could I not write anything?

I didn’t realize how painful and heavy it was to lose my grandfather until you hugged me. You were the first one to see my tears. You were the only one brave enough to hold my broken pieces without caring if you'd get cut by my sharp edges.

How you were able to do it even after all these years will forever be a mystery to me.

Thank you for catching me before I further shattered myself.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’m still reeling from recent events.

It was so nice to see you again last night, though. Thanks for dragging me out of my apartment. It’s been so long since we went out like that, just for some frozen yogurt, which naturally turned into a few drinks because after all, it’s still the two of us together.

But good lord help me, I’m still in a daze. How can I be normal when I just dropped the biggest truth bomb of my life thus far?

I told you, “Maybe I’ve always wondered what it would be like if we ever tried before.”

But you know what you said? You know what you frickin’ said?

“I wish you told me earlier. Why didn’t you?”

Well, why didn’t you??????

I swear I could’ve combusted on the spot if I could. I swear I just said that so I could finally let go of this weight from my chest.

But you know what you did?

You walked me home. You made sure I was safe.

And then you visited this morning with coffee and breakfast to nurse the drinks from last night.

You’re just outside my room right now, sitting on my small couch, playing Beatles songs from the speakers. You’re waiting for me to finish whatever I’m doing here because you’re taking me out to see this movie I told you I wanted to watch. Why?

“We have to make up for lost time,” you said.

Chan, what are you doing? Just tell me so I know what I should do.

What do I do with you now?

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Happy Chan Day!

I hate you.

I wish you told me about your party earlier! I mean, even hours earlier, not like an hour or two right before.

Okay, I know it’s a spontaneous birthday party and all—I GET IT. But please tell your friends to at least invite your other friends beforehand? So we can also prep stuff for you, okay? I moved around so many schedules for this—for your party. How could I not?

So I hope you’ll forgive me for not preparing your gift yet. I was planning to get it in the coming days when my sched was relatively freer. Still, I’m really, truly sorry for not getting you a gift. I know you like getting gifts because you like giving them as well.

You know, it’s your birthday, yet you were the one who said something that was almost like a gift to me.

You said, “Don’t bother with the gift. As long as you’re here with me, I don’t really need anything else.”

Chan, I still hate you. I think.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’ve come to the harrowing realization that I’m in love with you.

No scratch that. I love you. Throughout all these years, I’ve always loved you.

How’s that for a hit-me-with-a-firetruck realization?

Yours truly (I wish),

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

Do not laugh at me. Do not be condescending. Do not dismiss me—your best friend. Do not leave me hanging. Just…do not.

When I show you this, just don’t.

Just read it.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Hey, you.

If only you knew how many pages I’ve written about you. Glad to know I’m not the only one doing so.

It started on that day we were in the library. I’d already written about so many things, but that was the first time I ever wrote about you. I’ve never stopped writing since.

And even in pages full of you writing about me, I still write about you.

You’ve always been here, there, and everywhere to me.

Yours, truly and only yours,

Chan

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

NOW PLAYING: seventeen's playlist - song # 2

“To lead a better life / I need my love to be here // … // Will be there and everywhere / Here, there and everywhere”

[chanranghaeys]

🎼 complementary wavelengths

Wouldn’t falling in love with your research partner compromise the integrity of the research study? You had no idea. But if that were the case, then you were in for some major trouble.

pairing: university professor!vernon x high school teacher!fem!reader word count: 2.8k+ genre: fluff for valentine’s day! rating: g tags: non-idol au, distant college friends to ???, first love :(, they both grew up!, we stan emotionally healthy MEN in here warnings: i claim no accuracy on the academic process because i am not a teacher and no accuracy on the mathematics and scientific concepts here because i am absolutely not a mathematician or a scientist

a/n: surprise lexi @heechwe, i’m your secret cupid! a huge thanks to jupiter @ddeonghwa-s for hosting this secret cupid valentine’s event! it took A WHILE for me to churn this out but we persist and bounce back to writing! a very very special thanks to kae @ylangelegy for beta reading! and to @svtreverie, @choitcherryanne, and k for being my forever hypegirls mwa mwa

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✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“So, Ms. Y/L/N, do you have a Valentine's date already?”

You roll your eyes for what must be the millionth time. “For the last time, this is grounds for unbecoming conduct, young lady.”

“I’m just saying!” Your student Sofia laughs. “You deserve to have a good Valentine’s Day this year.”

“Since when have you played matchmaker for me, Ms. Chwe?”

“Since we saw you crying in the school parking lot,” Sofia’s best friend Meena chimed in supportively. Come on, Ms. Y/L/N. You can’t expect us to sit around and do nothing.”

“Especially not for our favorite Maths teacher!”

You shake your head at these two high schoolers. You knew you couldn’t play favorites amongst your students, but these two and their stubbornly infectious energy sparked a little of your youth back in you. Plus, you really couldn’t blame them because they were right about that school parking lot incident.

It was after this brunch date went terribly wrong a few weeks ago. And while it was very unbecoming of a teacher for her students to find her squat and sobbing against her car, these two were like guardian angels that took you under their wings and brought you ice cream and were girl’s girls all the way—as if they weren’t almost a whole decade younger than you.

Since then, Sofia and Meena would secretly try to find you a potential Valentine’s date amongst teachers, guardians, single parents, older siblings, school staff, or anyone at this point. They were wholly invested—and not just because you were the best teacher they’ve ever had in their very subjective opinion.

From afar, you see a familiar figure leaning against his car, signature plain white tee with jeans underneath his selected outerwear of the day—this time, it was a black denim jacket with a matching Yankees cap.

You've noticed him for a while now, dropping by a few days a week. You've thought about approaching him several times as well, but you always stopped this impulse. However, today was different.

“Sofia, would you mind calling over your brother here for a second?”

“What is this about?” Sofia had her eyebrow raised. Despite her age, it was hard not to take her seriously given that you were both standing at the same height.

“You know what this is about. He told me that you gave him my email address.”

A look of understanding lit in Sofia’s eyes. “Ah, that thing. Yeah, gimme a second.”

Meena stayed behind to continue the line of questioning. “So what’s that thing?”

“It’s a post-grad thing of sorts. Don’t mind it, you have enough schoolwork on your head to be thinking about this.”

She just chuckled in return. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I remind you that Sofia’s brother is single, handsome, respectful, decent, and smart. You can see why I personally have a vested interest in this thing already.”

“Meena.”

She heard your tone shift and straightened herself. It was a subtle reminder that she was still your student and that you were still her teacher.

“I’m just stating facts,” she said with a shrug and a quieter tone.

Sofia’s distant voice calling out for her friend caught both of your attention. At the same time, you see the figure in black and white walking toward you in his confident and deliberate strides.

“I’ll go ahead Ms. Y/L/N. See you tomorrow! And good luck on the thing,” Meena said with a smile and a wave. When she passes the figure, she does a slight bow out of respect, which he reciprocates. This exchange quirks up the corner of your lips. You recall what Meena said earlier, and it prods at you with an irk of frustration.

It frustrates you that she’s right.

When he finally stood before you with a smile, a flood of memories came crashing back. Suddenly, you’re back on your college campus standing underneath your favorite tree, a girl in front of a boy.

“I got your email, Professor Chwe. It’s been a while.”

“It has been a while Ms. Y/L/N.”

You chuckle at your monikers. Who knew two scruffy college students would turn out to be respectful academicians? “Formalities aside, it’s so nice to hear from you again Vernon.”

“Likewise.”

“I see the teaching gig in university hasn’t changed your sense of casual style.”

Vernon looks you up and down in your sensible collared button-up and slacks ensemble. You completely ignore the growing flutters in your stomach. “I can see that this high school has changed yours.”

“Well, you gotta do what you gotta do. The kids actually like my sense of style, mind you.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed Sofia starting to wear blazers all of a sudden. I never thought that it’d be you I’d blame for that.”

You feel something in your chest, a sudden churn and an unexpected leap. As a teacher, you’ve mastered your emotions enough to mask your face into one that wouldn’t give everything away. But these primal emotions were almost too much to bear.

Is this what it really feels like to face your first love after so many years apart?

“Anyway,” you continue as a means to deflect before anything else gives away your true feelings. “You emailed me about your dissertation? You really didn’t give much away. And you know you could’ve just sent me a message.”

“Oh, yeah!” Vernon nods vigorously in emphasis of your statement. “I need someone good in applied mathematics.”

“And you need me for that because?”

He blinks at you. “Because you are good at applied mathematics. I want your help for my musicology dissertation.”

You let out a sigh of disbelief. “Vernon, I—”

“And don’t you dare say you’re not good,” he insists with his finger pointed at you. “I’ve read your research papers. I don’t even know why you stay teaching in high school. You could’ve been tenured by now. Or on a sabbatical like me.”

He’s read my research papers? So he’s been following my work? You shake your head to clear these unnecessary thoughts, which are immediately replaced by a sense of uncertainty. “I don’t know, I’m pretty busy these coming months…”

You really didn’t know why you were avoiding it. This was the perfect academic opportunity and you had no idea why you were avoiding it.

Okay, scratch that. You knew exactly why—because of him.

“No problem, we’ll be able to pace the progress. Besides,” he continued, “you’ve always been my study buddy. I know we’ll be really good partners for this one.”

With one sentence, he has almost reduced you to a blushing schoolgirl with a huge crush.

Oh wait, weren’t you one already?

But still, you couldn’t resist stoking the flame that had been sparked inside you. So you ask, “Why me? Were there no other worthy research partners in your esteemed university?”

“Nope. I choose you,” he answered with a lopsided smirk. “I think you’ll understand why when you hear what my dissertation is about.”

“What is it about?”

“Do you wanna go out for coffee?”

“What?”

“What?” Vernon said in more of a statement than a question.

“What does coffee have anything to do with this?”

“Unless you want to keep standing here with your students watching us, I think it’s better if we continue this discussion somewhere else.”

You peer over his shoulder to see Sofia and Meena watching the two of you from the car like hawks, ready to catch any significant interaction that might give away what you two were talking about. When you met their line of sight, they were ready to bring their phones up to feign their disinterest.

“There’s a cafe on the next street over. If you’d like to go there…”

“Nice,” he said cooly, his voice low and sure.

He lifted his phone to his ear. From your peripheral vision, you see his sister raise her own phone in response. It was almost comical how you could see their silent reactions from across the courtyard, with Meena vibrating with excitement and slapping the other girl’s arm as you hear Sofia’s voice trying to sound calm through the speaker of Vernon’s phone. You see them hurriedly lowering the car window and lifting their thumbs up toward your direction.

They seem to think they have finally succeeded. You wouldn’t give them that benefit yet.

When he hung up, Vernon addressed your confused look. “Sofia’s been annoying me about getting the car anyway, so they can have it. Let’s walk?”

It was silent at first. The early afternoon sun cooperated with the cool breeze, setting the atmosphere for a nice leisurely walk. Students and office workers were milling around the nearby commercial strip, with the sounds and conversations all mingling in the background.

It had been years since you last spent time together like this, in an environment not too different from this one. After your study sessions in the library, you two walked together to your shared classes, which by some stroke of luck always seemed to happen for at least one class every semester until you graduated.

You both hung in different circles. He hung around with his fellow music majors in band practices and the college’s musicians organization, while you spent the majority of your time with your mathematics batchmates in the library or the school quad, catching up on problem sets and homework before you needed to make it to your choir’s rehearsals at night.

But when you ended up as seatmates in your first semester, you made a comment on the Bach piece he was listening to, how Bach was actually a pretty mathematical composer. He asked you how you knew that.

You said, “I take mathematics. I needed a cool fun fact for introductions.”

From that moment on, Vernon took it upon himself to make you appreciate how mathematical Bach’s pieces were. Music became your common language amongst everything else in the background, and the rest was history.

“Okay,” you began, “You know that we haven’t really spoken to each other since graduation. So…why choose me? Not that I’m complaining, though! I’m just…shocked, I guess. And confused. Because if you’ve read my research, you’d know that it’s been years since I published anything.”

Throughout your rambling, Vernon simply looked at you. When you finally stop, you notice the clear brown of them looking straight into you. It had been years, but they were the same eyes that looked at you, that listened intently when you were explaining a complex math concept.

It had been years, but that almost unblinking gaze of his still made your heart do unexplainable leaps in your chest.

You broke away from the intensity of his gaze. He took this as a cue to answer your question. “I was looking for research papers to help me form my framework. Then I stumbled on your computations of metered wavelengths and frequencies, and their relation to different kinds of sound.”

That paper. “Oh.”

His lips turned up in the corners when he continued. “I suddenly remembered how we randomly theorized this during one of our study sessions. I couldn’t believe you actually turned it into your master's thesis.”

“You still remember that?”

“Of course. I never thought I’d find someone so in tune with me and my random theories.”

“If you’ve read the paper, you’ll know that it wasn’t a random theory at all. You might just have discovered the makings of a postulate as a college sophomore.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without your mind making sense of it. You really are the brightest of your batch.”

You scoff at the remark. “We’re not in college anymore, Vernon. There are a lot of other bright minds out there.”

“None quite like yours, I’m sure.”

You reach the cafe and order in—a decaf iced americano for you, and a hot chocolate for him. As soon as you two get seated, he finally launches into an animated discussion of his dissertation topic about discovering the medical applications of using the various sound wavelengths from certain types and compositions of music to aid in both the operation and healing process of a person, with the goal of identifying a singular formula to determine the right wavelength for each medical situation. He had his medical experts, all he needed was his mathematician.

It was a lot to digest, to say the least.

But by the end of it all, you were in awe of both Vernon and his mind. He is smart. He’d always been smart, but it felt like the confines of university and immaturity bounded his full potential. Now that he’s seen and explored the world of academia, he was able to finally showcase how bright of a mind he really is.

“Can I tell you something?” You set down your coffee and leaned forward.

As if second nature, he mirrored your action to the tee. “Shoot.”

“I’m proud of you. Really. You used to be this mysteriously awkward guy in college who just played around with guitars and 808s. But I always knew you’d put that big brain of yours to good use.”

He opens his mouth as if in reply, but stops midway and just smiles and scrunches his nose. After a beat, he nods with a look of quiet decision. “Can I tell you something, then?” He asks, worrying his thumb with his other hand as he looks at you. You nod in response.

“It was you that inspired me to be this version of myself. Because you can’t only be smart, you also have to work hard. None of my friends back then had that mindset, then came you.”

“What are study buddies for, yeah?” You raise your fist in front of you. He looks at it and smiles his trademark gummy smile. In return, he bumps his own fist into yours, reminiscent of how you two would check in on each other during extended hours in the library finishing a project or a paper. A fist bump to make the heads bump, you two used to say.

Instead of lowering his fist after, he holds it there flush against yours. “Would it be weird for me to say that it’s honestly more than that?”

“What do you mean?”

He took in a deep breath and let out an exhale just as deep. “When I read your papers, I remembered everything we went through in uni and I just…kinda fell in love with your brain again, I guess. Even until now, you—and your work—inspired me to just do it. Then you started popping up everywhere in my life again and…I remembered how I did kinda fall in love with everything else about you. I was just too young and chicken to see it before.”

It took you a whole minute to find your voice again because how could he be this nonchalant? “You’re really just here dropping all these truth bombs without any warning, huh?”

“Like you said, we’re not in college anymore. I’d rather say it now than never.” Vernon’s smile is a shy one, hidden behind his hot chocolate cup. You can’t believe it took a dissertation paper for anyone’s feelings to be revealed—much less his.

As your mind reels with Vernon’s revelation, you scramble your brains to come up with a lighthearted retort. “So are you still kinda in love with me? Just so I know what and how we’re working on this project.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think you’re doing any better. Don’t think I don’t see you staring whenever I fetch Sofia from school.”

You gape at his reply. “How do you even know where to look for me?”

“You’re her last teacher of the day and you both leave the school at the same time. I told you. You just came barging into my life again unannounced, and it wasn’t even your fault. You just sort of…fell in there.”

A smug look took over your features, one you really couldn’t help after hearing all that he had to say. “Vernon Chwe, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were so down bad for me.”

“For that whip-smart brain and that adorable smile, maybe—theoretically—astronomically and catastrophically down bad even.”

You fight the heat rising to your cheeks—and fail. After a cough to hide your growing embarrassment, you say, “I think we’re done for the day.”

“Sure. So. Same time tomorrow?”

You were about to answer when you suddenly realized, “Vernon, it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Don’t you have any other plans?”

He shakes his head and looks you straight in the eye as he says, “Just you. If you say yes.”

Wouldn’t falling further in love with your research partner compromise the integrity of the study? You had no idea. But if that were the case, then you were in for some major trouble.

[chanranghaeys]

🐸 “come here, hold my hand.”

request from my og @tusswrites! "come here, hold my hand.” “you’re washing the dishes.” “…i can do both…” with minghao? please i love this man and I’ll crumble if he says this to me 😭

pairing: minghao x gn!reader word count: 1k+ genre: fluff, slice of life (HELLO IT'S ME) rating: pg tags: pure fluff, physical touch as the love language, mundane stuff, household chores, request prompted washing the dishes so you will have washing the dishes, i try to make up a song warnings: none

a/n: finally found the random inspiration for this drabble that ended up with more than 1k words. purely self-indulgent. bear with me. as someone who always washes the dishes, i want this. bow.

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Minghao is a strong believer in physical touch as a love language.

Popular media doesn’t showcase this all too well because of the image and concept that has been formed around him. Still, physical touch is the love language that remains superior in his opinion. This means being able to reach out to the other person and hold them in any manner, being in proximity to them to express how you feel, and being in the same room with each other regardless of what you are doing.

He says it’s about having something tangible to hold—tactile in his hand and palpable on his body—and how he appreciates having the people around him to physically ground his thoughts and dreams that can soar as high as the heavens allow. It reminds him that he doesn’t just have his rational mind anchoring him down but also something and someone to help make sense of things.

Minghao, contrary to popular belief then, is actually a very clingy person.

Words are not and will never be his strong suit. Yes, he can write. Yes, his words are like poetry, like water flowing through the rough in cascades of emotion, but they only come out when the cup is full. On a day-to-day basis, Minghao expresses his love which can be felt even through the slightest brush of hands.

This is a fact that you learned almost immediately.

He comes home, wordless, whether to his place or your place, and the first thing he does is go in for a hug. No matter where you are or what you are doing, he forces you to stop so he can hug you for who knows how long, deeply, fully, and wholeheartedly—not that half-assed wraparound from the side that people excuse for a hug.

It’s a habit he started during a particularly trying time in his life. He would pull you closer and engulf you in his arms, burying you in his scent as he buries himself in the crook of your neck or the crown of your head.

Naturally, during a particularly trying time in your life this time, you picked up his habit easily and did the same to him.

Scientific studies show that a 20-second hug is enough to release oxytocin that can lower stress levels and improve quality of life. Whatever the research says, you and Minghao do agree that this little practice has made your lives easier and more bearable than they used to be.

Recently though, you always end up missing each other at home. He would come home late nights and early mornings after schedules to find you sound asleep in your bed, while you would wake up a few hours later to his sleeping form recovering from the previous day’s demands. You’d come home one too many days to a space devoid of his comforting presence, and the same could be said for him.

It happens, you think. It’s absolutely normal. Being this busy just means that both your lives are taking a turn for the better, right?

But still, you miss him, despite coming home to each other every day. You miss the simple act of sharing your silence together and you miss the way his touches would simultaneously calm you down but also keep you on your toes.

Today, you couldn’t help but feel lonelier than usual as you set your jacket and bag down to be greeted by a dark apartment room. Based on his last message a few hours ago, Minghao was still in the studio practicing. He sent a selca with the other performance unit boys and you don’t deny how you stared at his sweaty hair and bare smiling face for a minute longer than you thought you did.

But you had a good day at work, where everything just worked out the way you wish every day would, and you absolutely will not let anything rain on your small moment of happiness. No, not even the mess of a room you left this morning and not the pile of dishes you didn't realize remained unwashed this morning.

So you turn on the speakers and press play on a song that has Minghao’s voice fill the empty space. It was one of his unreleased demos for his recent solo EP. It was a shame because this was your favorite from his endless roster of songs—a song where the lyrics talked about how the most mundane of moments could be the most special if you had your love’s hand to hold.

You started on the dishes and got lost in the process almost meditatively in the menial task. It was enough to startle you when you heard your name from behind you. You see him in fresh clothes and slightly damp hair, a clean scent emanating from his presence.

“When did you get home?” You asked in reply to your most favorite voice in the world.

“Just now,” Minghao instinctively reached out to latch onto your waist, easily letting your gravity pull him to you in your natural ritual of finding purchase in each other's nooks and crannies. As if you were two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly, he molds his body against yours with his chest flush to your back and his hands folding on the flat of your stomach.

He breathed in your scent and you felt his smile against your temple. Instantaneously, you relax against his touch as he says against your ear, “I missed you.”

You turn to find his lips, softly pressing yours against them and repeating his words to him. With a smile, you continue your reply with a melody to your voice. “Come here, hold my hand.”

You feel his chuckles with his cheek pressed on yours when he says, “But you’re washing the dishes.”

“I can do both.”

So he does, intertwining one of his hands with yours—albeit awkwardly—and helping you finish the chore in front of you. His soft giggles mingle with yours as you two find a rhythm to washing the dishes among four working hands.

You two stay in this position for a while with the song still playing in the background, the lyrics resounding as you sway in time with the rhythm.

“Come here, hold my hand, pull me in, and let me orbit around your gravity…”

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post a/n: still from my little drabble request game and still accepting requests! all you gotta do is shoot an ask <3

[chanranghaeys]

🎥 chemistry read

in which Junhui’s casting director gets a little bit too jealous during a chemistry read

pairing: actor!junhui x afab!casting director!reader word count: 2.1k+ genre: hurt, comfort, nsfw rating: r-18. nsfw, mdni! tags: established relationship, JEALOUSY, fluffy ending, reader is mentioned to be smaller than jun, i claim no accuracy over the movie industry processes nsfw warnings: heavy makeout, petting, voyeurism (if you squint?)

a/n: mainly inspired by lana condor and noah centineo’s chemistry read for “to all the boys i’ve loved before” and it still lives rent-free in my head because it made me feel so, so many things. also my first nsfw-rated fic oh my. took me a while to make sense of where the story was going but it seemed all roads led to this.

credits to @strxwberry-skiess, @diamonddaze01, @haologram, and c for beta reading because this took a village to get out!! thank you bless your souls 🫶

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“Do you believe in the red string of fate?”

“The what?”

“The red string of fate. Have you seriously not heard of it?”

Jun was pulling out all the stops for this one. He had cranked up his charm to the max level evident in the smiles and subtle glances towards her direction. He knew exactly what he was doing.

It was sickening.

You were sitting on the opposite end of the screen in another room. Yes, you chose to go into a separate room today.

“It’s to see the literal on-screen chemistry,” you said. “We can’t have the face-to-face chemistry not translating well on camera.”

Just as well. You’d had enough of them making heart eyes at each other right in front of you anyway.

Today’s schedule was packed with absolutely no time for breaks in between and no time to even sit for a proper meal which you knew you’d only get by the end of the day.

And no time to actually sit down with the actor you were working with—who you were also lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

If you too were an actor, you’d truly believe that Jun was the perfect fit for you. It was something about his carefree presence and easygoing demeanor that turned shy when praises were directed at him no matter how much he deserved it. It was something that made you want to keep rooting for him.

He saw precisely that in you: your unwavering dedication and quiet support, whether in giving him insider tips and tricks to get ahead or letting him run wild with his character at every casting call. It was something he had never seen so strongly in someone during his time as an actor.

“You remind me of my members,” he told you the very first time you had coffee together—as colleagues who were on the verge of becoming something. “They’re my brothers. And I mean that in the best way possible! Not that you’re my brother in the messing around and crazy kind of way,” he quickly added when you raised your eyebrows in question. “I mean in the ‘always being there to stand by your side no matter what’ kind of way.” He sips from his drink nervously. “Don’t ask me to explain please, because I will not stop rambling until I say something even more stupid than I already have.”

You laughed because he’d already rambled more than he usually did. As a casting director, it was your job to match actors to roles that suited them perfectly. But as people, you both could say you did a mighty good job in matching each other’s quirks and freaks.

Professional mode on during work, you two agreed. And you two did very well on that promise.

But bringing her in for the role made it infinitely difficult for you to keep up your end of this deal.

“She’s an old friend of mine! We worked together on one of my very first projects, the small ones I used to tell you about.” He said this when you asked about her. You knew all that already, of course—it was part of your job.

But when the two finally met again in person, you saw it. As a casting director, your professional instincts felt it. You saw it in the way they instantly gravitated to each other, the way their eyes both sparkled, the way their hands naturally connected even after all those years apart.

They were perfect for the role.

And in your head, a small voice continued the thought you didn’t want to touch.

They were perfect for each other.

It was the same voice nagging in your head throughout the duration of the chemistry read. You knew this scene by heart as if you were the one auditioning for the role. You’ve watched how many callbacks and chemistry reads of this scene. And you knew what came next.

After the back-and-forth dialogue was a moment of silence, followed by a lingering gaze, which was sealed with a kiss that escalated to a bed scene. It was a pivotal moment in the film so it had to be perfect.

You’d almost been desensitized to your boyfriend doing such scenes—professional mode on as always. But all that work crumbled the moment you saw their eyes lock onscreen. Slowly, slowly, their faces inched closer together to meet in a kiss.

Your eyes burned. Your fist clenched as you saw his hand fist in her hair. Your jaw tightened when you saw her lips land in the corner of his jaw. And just as he brought her head down on the couch, the director called “Cut!” and you stood up to walk out of the room, not without feeling a stray tear fall down your cheek.

Jun heard the slam of the door and jerked his head toward the sound. That was all it took for him to know what happened.

He wasn't the only one to notice. Jun found the director’s eyes meeting his with a knowing look. “Alright,” the director started. “Well, they don't call it a chemistry read for nothing!” Scattered laughs filled the small room. “Thank you to both of you, that was absolutely amazing.”

The producers took the actress aside for a few words with other managers and staff. Your presence was notably absent.

Before Jun could slip away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That was the best read so far,” the director said.

“I know,” and with his eyebrows raised he continued, “I heard the door.”

The director just gave him a lighthearted laugh. “I’m sure we all did. But you know she would agree.”

Jun knew. So while everyone was preoccupied, he glanced at his manager—who already knew what he’d do—and set off to find you. It wasn’t a hard task because he opened the nearest door to the stairwell and found you leaning against the wall.

You met his eyes when you heard the door open, following him and his slight smile until he ended up a short distance beside you with his shoulder against the wall. You were adamant about not wanting him to see you break. You’re a professional, right?

“You know it’s not real,” he starts.

You scoff. “How is it not real when it was right in front of me?”

“Stop that, green isn’t a good color on you.”

“What?” Jarred, you look down at your staple all-black ensemble. “But green’s my favorite color. You told me you liked me in green.”

“Not when it’s green with jealousy.”

It took you two seconds to register what he said. The corner of your mouth twitched involuntarily at the quip. “I am not jealous.”

Jun barely held in a laugh. “Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!”

“Jealous you’re not the one I was kissing?”

“No, I—”

“Jealous you’re not the one I’m holding?” He reaches out and loops his finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer, closer, until you’re both joined at the hip. He shifts to effectively pin you against the wall with his height. You shiver against his touch when his fingertips graze the base of your neck.

“Now, you stop that,” you breathily let out.

“Stop what?” He asks oh so innocently.

“This.”

“No. Not until I prove to you how real this is.” He grabs ahold of your hand, and places it somewhere you did not expect it to go: right over his clothed crotch.

He was wearing loose slacks, a piece that could easily hide things that need to be hidden. But if there was one thing you did know about Jun is that he gets hard quick and easy and it takes him a while to calm down. With your hand on it, you could feel it was anything but hard.

“You know me. You tell me if that read did anything remotely close to what you do to me.”

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can let out a reply, his lips land on yours. His actions catch you off-guard and you instinctively clutch onto his arms and your last bits of sanity. Just as quick, he breaks away and grabs your hand again to return it to where it came from.

“Keep it here, love. I need you to have the proof in your hands.” He brushes a stray hair from your face, and you see your own desire in his eyes reflected back to you. He leans in, but stops short of your lips, leaving you to chase after his touch. The smirk that followed was telling of his thoughts. He was teasing you. God.

You had no more patience for his fun and games. You could feel the pent-up frustration building. Whether from anger or sexual arousal, the line has been blurred irrevocably. With your free hand, you latch onto his hair and pull him in aggressively into an open-mouthed kiss.

It was at this moment that you both decided to think “fuck it” to all modes of professionalism.

He takes advantage of your open mouth and wastes no time diving deeper. You find yourself reciprocating his kisses, pulling him in closer as if recreating the scene you watched him do but making sure it was imprinted with your mark on him.

“I love you.” You hear it whispered, feel it muttered against your lips. “I love you, and only you,” he continues in between kisses. “I love you.”

And there it is: the proof you could feel quite literally in your hand, at the crux between his legs. If you weren’t too in the heat of the moment, you could almost laugh. He decided to prove his loyalty to you by showing that he did not get a boner during the chemistry read. It was your lips and your hands, and yours only, that could do this to him. It was peak Junhui.

But now, you were only aroused beyond comprehension, apparent in the pit of your core and the slick pooling in your panties. You squeeze him through his slacks and he moans lewdly in your mouth, echoing in the empty stairwell bearing witness to this obscenity.

He starts kissing and licking down your neck as you feel his hands snake under your blouse and your bra to squeeze in return, earning a gasp from your swollen mouth. You fist the hand you had in his hair tighter, fully aware that you are indeed messing it up and you will very much get a word from his stylist about this.

Your ringtone effectively silenced all other sounds you both made before things could go any further. You both stopped to look at each other with expressions that were hard to decipher whether in alarm or in exhilaration.

“Hello?”

You hear your director on the other end. “So have you two kissed and made up yet? Not literally, I hope.”

From the corner of your eye, Jun chuckled. You cleared your throat, but your voice was still a pitch too high when you replied, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Alright, now come on back here. We have dinner prepared for everyone, including the new girl. We still need to talk about her.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Now, okay? We’ve been stalling for you two.”

Ah, shit. “Okay. On the way.” You dropped the call and looked at Jun leaning back against the wall, whose hair he managed to salvage and whose clothes were almost presentable. You couldn’t say the same for your half-open jeans and messed-up lipstick.

Wordlessly, he pulls you in and helps tidy you up—fixing your hair as you put your clothes back together and wipe off the stray lipstick from your face.

“For the record,” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “whatever chemistry you see on the screen is only because I have you in my head to draw inspiration from. There’s a reason why people close their eyes when they kiss. It’s you I see every time.”

You usually love it when Junhui rambles like this. You still do now, but you also recall his “green with jealousy” line and it fills you with embarrassment.

“It’s just…it looked so real. It felt so real. That was the best chemistry read out of all of them.”

“So I was told earlier.”

“It made me feel so many things.” The exasperation was evident in your voice.

He takes your hands this time and holds them tight. “I’ll make you feel even more things, I’m sure. But I will not let you forget that I will make you feel loved the most. Okay?”

You sigh. You love him. “I love you, Jun.”

“I love you, too.” He raises a hand to press a kiss on your knuckles.

“Also remind me to call building security. I must tell them to delete that footage from the stairwell.”

Jun gives you a quiet smile, one full of mischief. “Not without securing a copy first. For me. Please?”

“I thought we were professionals!”

“We could add professional rule-breakers to that title, you know.”

Hmm. You reconsider his request. Yep, you could definitely match his freak. Perfect chemistry.

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post a/n: inbox is open for requests or additions to taglists!

[chanranghaeys]

🥂 a tale of two lonely souls

pairing: idol!minghao x gn!bar owner!reader word count: 1.4k+ genre: fluff rating: pg tags: christmas fic, open ending, meet cute in a bar, yes it’s yet another slice of life from me, minghao is cocky as always but you’ll love it bc reader will make minghao realize he’s found his match at cockiness warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of multi-race parents, reader owns a bar in this setting

a/n: i’m so honored to be part of @camandemstudios’ A Very Seventeen Christmas Secret Santa event for this year and surprise @ylangelegy, i’m your secret santa! 🥳 bless u kae, here’s a little gift for you for making me feel so many things this year bc of your fics 🫶 merry christmas and happy holidays to y’all!

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“All alone on Christmas Day?”

The hooded figure at the bar looked up from their phone. You notice their fingernails painted in shades and lines of black and glitter that glinted under the lights. When the figure pulled down their hood and face mask, you realize that the man looked startlingly familiar. You just couldn’t place from where…

“Maybe,” he replied. A slight smile graced his features, a welcome warmth from his initially cold aura.

“Well, that makes the two of us alone on Christmas.” The place was empty, save for two tables with a few customers—one large group, two duos, and this man on the bar counter.

It was a few hours before the end of Christmas Eve, and this recently opened Asian fusion bar had yet to welcome its throng of guests. In hindsight, maybe setting it up in a more secluded area of Itaewon wasn’t the best decision.

“If that's the case then maybe we’re not alone.” He gestures his finger between the two of you. You roll your eyes at the attempt to lighten the mood.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” He tilts his head curiously.

“Being alone.”

“Why not change it then?” He steeples his hands and rests his chin on them, his eyes studying yours as if trying to decipher a puzzle—as if he was used to analyzing people quietly.

It was unsettling…but you liked the challenge.

“Well, why don’t you change?” You counter back at him.

“Change what?”

“You being alone.”

He snickers. “Why don’t you get me something to drink first?”

“Alright, Mr. Bossy,” you say with a raised eyebrow and a matching smirk. “What are you having?”

“I heard you have Kweichow Maotai. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

Interesting. He’s a man of taste. The way the Chinese syllables easily rolled off his tongue gave you further evidence of his identity—you just needed one more clue.

Without a word, you turn to face the wall of bottles to find the spirit you’re looking for. But before reaching for the iconic white-and-red bottle, you stop yourself.

“You know what, it’s Christmas.” You turn back to him with a smile. “I’ll get you something special.”

You return with another bottle of Maotai—but he instantly recognizes the difference from the one at the bar. His eyes widened the moment you came in holding the gold bottle tied with a red ribbon.

“No way you have that.” He marveled at the sight in front of him, his eyes filled with seeming reverence. “How—”

“That is a story for another time. But now, please enjoy. I’ll just charge you the regular Maotai rate, don’t worry.” You wink and hand him the small tulip glass, full to the brim.

“Just tell me that I’m not drinking a shot of illegally-sourced vintage Maotai.” There it is again—the analyzing look.

“If it were, then I’d be out of business. Can’t have that then, can we?”

“Of course not.” The man raised his glass to meet your own. “I can’t lose my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea now that I’ve found you.” The light brought the ring on his pinky finger to your attention. Suspicion confirmed.

You didn't reply, but opted to down the contents of the small glass—potent but familiar. He followed suit. You hoped that the warmth that bloomed in your mouth and your chest didn’t manifest itself too much on your cheeks. You could blame it on your Asian flush anyway because you had to give it to him—he was surprisingly smooth with his words.

“This is the rare moment I get to be alone,” he said after a beat. “Believe me, I wish I had more of it, but my parents are arriving here tomorrow from China. So no, I will not be as alone as you think.”

It took you a moment to realize he was continuing the conversation from earlier. “That’s nice. Why are you here in Korea then, if you’re from China?”

“Who said I was from there?”

“Well, you have parents coming from there.”

“Who’s to say that they aren’t coming home here?”

“The way you said Kweichow Maotai was too smooth.”

He shrugged deliberately. “I know Chinese.”

“I know Chinese, too. You can’t fool me.” You said this in perfectly placed Mandarin. The look on his face was priceless as he was rendered speechless.

“I cannot believe you managed to surprise me twice in one night,” he replied in the same tongue.

You smirked and poured another tulip glass for the both of you. “Glad to know that I managed to surprise a K-pop idol tonight. And in my bar, no less. Xu Minghao, correct?” You push the refilled glass and meet his ever-analytical eyes. It seemed like you knew how to play his game, after all.

The smile he returned was ethereal. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of tonight’s company?”

And that’s how you spent the remaining hours of Christmas Eve, with conversations as free-flowing as the Maotai and whiskey and bar chow. You learned that his parents’ flight was actually delayed—he was actually on his way to the airport—and he learned that your Chinese is courtesy of your father’s heritage and your Korean address from your mother.

You also ended up telling him the story about the vintage Maotai, which had him in stitches by the end of it. Thankfully, the bar had long been empty and your staff had all gone home.

“Why haven’t you left then?”

“You might’ve forgotten that I own this place.”

“And how does it not have more customers at this time?”

“It’ll pick up soon. I’m sure of it.”

Minghao pursed his lips in thought. “Give me your Maotai bottle. And a marker.”

“The vintage one?”

“No, the regular one over there!” You obliged to his requests, and he returned the liquor bottle with a freshly minted autograph from Seventeen’s The8.

Why didn’t you think of this earlier? It might be because the whole time you were talking, he didn’t even seem like an idol. He was just…a guy. A frustratingly charming and quick-witted guy.

“Merry Christmas to you and this wonderful place.” His examining gaze was long gone, replaced by eyes that disappeared whenever he smiled wide. “Thank you for…making me feel safe.”

“Merry Christmas, Minghao. Everything’s on the house. Consider it a Christmas gift.”

“Absolutely not.” He brandished his card and pushed it to you. “I will not rip off a starting business all because of celebrity status.”

“I didn’t say it was for your celebrity status.”

“Still.” He was insistent. He took your hand and placed his card in it. “Charge me as necessary.”

You were just as insistent, though. “No.”

“Fine. Then give me your phone.”

You did. And he input his personal number in it.

“I have to go now, but please message me. I mean it.”

You did. And the back-and-forth banter didn’t stop. Surprise remained an element in your dynamic, apparently, because the conversations seemed as natural as the days transitioning from one to another.

You didn’t catch when Minghao took photos of your place. But the moment he posted it on his Instagram, customers started coming in waves. This secluded corner in Itaewon has never had a lull day since Christmas.

New Year’s was no different. After the festivities and the celebrations, it was finally time to call it an early morning at 3 am. But not before you welcomed your last customer.

“Alone on New Year’s as well?” You hold back a smile when you find him standing at the door. The way your heart was beating was undeniable, and you knew you couldn’t hold that back.

Up until then, you didn’t know if you would ever see Minghao again beyond your messages. They became more occasional as time passed, but you knew enough from his stories that their schedules were not to be underestimated. Seeing him here now was—as expected from your dynamic—a surprise.

“No. I’m with my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea, how can I be alone?” He drew closer to the bar and to you as if you were reeling him in with an invisible string.

“I thought your parents brought you a bottle last Christmas?”

“It isn’t a vintage Maotai, though.”

“What makes you think I’m bringing it out tonight?”

“Because we’re starting the new year together. I’d say that’s a cause for celebration.” And bring it out you did. As if you could resist him.

Before you can open the bottle, he grabs it from your hands to pour out the drinks himself. As you two raise your glasses, he leans in close, and you see nothing but an openness in his eyes. Warmth. Hope. “Happy New Year to you, then.”

“To us. Happy New Year, Minghao.”

Your glasses clink and your Maotais are downed. It would seem that happiness is on the books for the year ahead.

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post a/n: pleaseeee i felt so pressured to write for u (looks at my inbox with full knowledge your request still lies there unwritten fskf) ((i promise i’ll get to them)) but i hope i did minghao justice. i was very much inspired by your own minghao fics skl hehe and tbh this is almost less of a drabble and more of a potentially longer fic but i held back bc gah. merry christmas again and i hope you liked my pamasko, kae! 🎄🎁✨

post post a/n/n: ALSO thank you to @tusswrites for quick beta-ing this one even tho she wasn't supposed to bc she's also in the same event and apparently you can't do that HAHA thank you still all love mwa

[chanranghaeys]

👼 a regular korean citizen

request from my love, tara (@diamonddaze01)! “one waking up before the other, so they make up their side of the bed and can’t help but tuck in their sleeping lover as they do so” with jeonghan pls and thank u i miss my husband

pairing: idol!active duty!jeonghan x gn!reader word count: 817 genre: fluff, slice of life rating: pg tags: sleepy couple, morning musings, mainly an imagine of sorts, reader is tired bc of work, mentions of active korean military duty are NOT accurate and i do not claim their accuracy so please bear with my descriptions i rly did just make them up as i went warnings: none

a/n: thank u lovely tara! i indeed got out of the dreaded writing slump. and it’s my first time writing jeonghan so i hope i did him justice for u!

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Jeonghan distinctly remembers going to sleep on his own with no one else on the bed. It was a pleasant surprise for him to see you on the other side when he rolled over.

If there was anything he enjoyed most about being an active member of the Korean military, it was that he was not subject to the grueling demands of an idol’s schedule. He could just be a regular Korean citizen—something he hasn’t had the luxury to experience in about a decade.

He couldn’t say the same for you, though, who also worked in the entertainment industry with hours just as long as his used to be. It was evident in the way you were sprawled over the bed, caring less about how you looked and how you ended up sleeping. Your neck was in such an awkward position compared to your body that Jeonghan was so sure you’d wake up with a stiff neck, and he would not allow that.

He knew you were as much of a light sleeper as he was. And as much as he wanted to caress your face or smooth down your hair, he shouldn’t for fear of waking you up from a much-deserved slumber.

But he wasn’t Yoon Jeonghan, part-time troublemaker, for nothing. And he missed you, as he did every day, so what other reason could there be to justify him not holding the love of his life as dearly as he wanted to?

You must’ve been absolutely drained because you didn’t even react at the gentlest of his touches. Jeonghan smiled and continued his soft strokes on your head. A forehead kiss did merit the slightest reaction from you—an automatic one where you seemed to involuntarily lean into the touch of his lips making contact on your skin.

He smirked. If only you could see it and how much it gave away how smug he felt to see you still craving for his touch. He checked the time from the standard military watch on his hand—5:37 am. It was time for him to get up.

He checked his phone, tapping into your work calendar to see your schedule. You still had a few hours of sleep left before your shoot scheduled for 1 pm. That was good, he thought, you need all the rest before another chaotic variety show shoot until whatever ungodly hour of the night.

The military discipline easily merged with Jeonghan’s idol discipline. It may not be the same for all fellow idols on active duty, but others have mentioned how similar both were. It was the implicit and discrete need for order and organization that both disciplines shared. It made sure everything was clean-cut and picture-perfect for idols on screen, and that everyone followed uniform standards with a code of conduct for active soldiers to learn.

Jeonghan was used to it. And such disciplines included even the simplest task of making the bed. He fluffed his pillow, he fixed the sheets he messed up on his side with a military tuck—and you didn’t even budge. You were out cold.

Jeonghan huffed a sigh, running his hands through his short-cropped hair—something he was still getting used to. “Aigoo-yaaaaa” was all he said with all the endearment in his heart.

He shuffled over to your side and, as gently as he could, fixed your sleeping position to avoid that impending stiff neck of yours. He also fixed the clothes already riding up in places because of how haphazardly you put them on. Thankfully, you remembered to remove your makeup before going to sleep this time. He was almost late for duty the last time he stayed to carefully remove it for you while you slept.

Carefully, he fluffed up your pillow and fixed the sheets as much as possible. He opened up the blanket and let it rest on your sleeping figure. He so badly wanted to engulf you in a warm embrace, but he loved tucking you in and seeing your relaxed expression just as much.

He left one final parting gift: a kiss on your cheek. Okay, maybe more than one gift—another kiss, a light brush of his lips on yours.

Jeonghan’s military enlistment allowed him to be a regular Korean citizen. That just gave him more opportunities to spend time with you and treat you the way a regular Korean citizen would. It was a welcome break for your relationship if it meant he could love you without all of the lights and cameras and judgmental eyes in the way.

Walking from the bedroom to the kitchen, he checked his phone once again and opened the calendar app. Peering at the time block for 7 pm later, he made sure his schedule and yours was a free time block. He couldn’t wait to share the wild stories about him and his fellow military men that would have to wait until tonight.

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post a/n: still accepting requests for my little drabble request game! all you gotta do is shoot an ask <3

post post a/n: svt won TWO daesangs at mama 2024 today!! HUHU i am proud of my bois (∩˃o˂∩)♡

[chanranghaeys]

🍊 "no promises."

pairing: idol!seungkwan x fem!reader word count: 1.2k+ tags: fluff, angst (ish) ending, comfort (ish i tried), another slice of life kinda like eavesdropping where you really shouldn’t haha warnings: it's not explicit, but i wrote this with the idea of seungkwan going home to jeju after moonbin’s passing so if that’s smthn triggering here’s a heads up

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“do you really have to go?”

“what kind of question is that? of course i have to go.”

she sighs. “i know. i just wanted to ask something cliche.”

she looks at him and sees all the little mannerisms he does cross the expressions on his face. he pursed his lips in a pout, tucked his tongue in his cheek, bit his lower lip, and looked anywhere except at her.

“whoever you are and whatever you choose to be, i know there’s a reason why fate brought us to meet. never forget that,” he states as his hand intertwines with hers.

“even if we choose to stay in different places?” she asks as she lays her head on his shoulder. she only does this because she can’t bear to look at him.

“especially so. call me a romantic. besides, at least we’re in the same country.”

“but jeju is still jeju. seoul is still seoul.”

“and you’re you. and i’m me.”

“yes. you are you. how can i ever forget that?”

he laughs. “no, no! i mean you’re you, that headstrong and determined person i have the pleasure to be with right now. i’m just someone who happens to be an idol but really…i’m just a normal human being.”

“so am i.”

“but you’re a person who is blessed to never have a million cameras flashing and blinking in your eyes. they hurt, you know.”

“remember, you chose this life.”

he sighs. “yeah, i know.”

she stays there beside him in silence.

“on the bright side, you’ll always get to see me. just get on youtube or turn on the television.”

“it won’t compare to this.” she brings his hand closer to her lips, kissing the back of it and lingering there.

he finally brings himself to look at her. she had the back of his hand resting on her cheek this time, staring out to the distance toward the sunset.

“i’m sorry about binnie. i truly am. i never knew him but just by your stories, it felt as if he was still right here with us. just over there, in the next neighborhood, waiting for your call and we could go eat ramyeon by the beach later. i hope you returning home brought you comfort.”

“it did. it did. it made me so happy, despite the sadness. i’m reminded that everything was too fast-paced for so long—too fast that i didn’t even bother to slow down and see things for what they were. okay, i get why you decided to move here to jeju.”

“i wouldn’t have realized how fast life was going either if it weren’t for that incident. i wish it happened sooner than later, honestly. staying in seoul ain’t worth it for me.”

“that incident. yep. who would’ve thought i’d see you again after that? least especially here of all places.”

“who would’ve thought.” she finally looked up at him, finding that he had his eyes on her all along. his hood was up, the chill of the coming night blowing through their multiple layers of clothing. his round eyes were kind, his lips were turned up in a small smile. they used the cold as an excuse to get closer, wishing they would never need to come apart.

who would’ve thought that this much would happen in the span of a few weeks?

he brought his head closer to hers, partly as an attempt to keep her warm when he saw her nose and cheeks pink with the cold, and partly as a way to use his lips to kiss the chill away. he knew the warmth that spread from both your hearts when he did so would be enough to keep this cold away.

he rested his forehead on hers, taking in as much of her as he could, as long as he still could. “you know i can’t promise you anything.”

“i know. i can’t promise you anything, either.”

“is it too self-destructive of us to keep thinking this way? shouldn’t i be the happy one?”

“no, i think you’ve always been more realistic than the others. you’re just being that right now.”

“you know, i already saw my upcoming schedules for when i return. it’s almost as if i want to just hide away in my room here at home again.”

“i can’t even begin to imagine what it would look like.” she chuckles.

“you know on the calendar app how it’s supposed to be neat blocks? for some reason, they all overlap. but they work? i don’t understand it either? this is why i leave all that to the manager hyungs. practice and performing and variety take up too much of my head as is.”

“ya,” she says, using her finger to guide his chin and forcing his gaze back to hers. she starts tracing lazy circles on the apple of his cheek before he catches her hand and kisses her palm, peppering kisses down to her wrist. he couldn’t get enough of her—as he should. he couldn’t believe he was leaving her behind.

“yaaaaaa! seungkwan-ah!” she laughs in protest as he almost tackles her with kisses to her cheeks, her chin, her nose. quick pecks to her lips prevent her from saying more in between her giggles. night was falling, the street lamps started glowing. his hood was still up. and he didn’t care who he was at that moment. he was just a young man in love with a woman he saw the beauty of hope in.

when he finally stops his surprise attack, he has her in his arms and resting against his chest. “i never pegged you to be a guy all about pda, seungkwannie.”

“i’m not. it’s just…you.” his arms instinctively wrap tighter around her. she hopes he never has to let go.

“don’t forget to rest, okay?” she looks back at him to prove her point was serious. “really. do not forget to rest.”

“alright~”

“don’t do your aegyo on me! i’m serious. please. i don’t want to see you again so sad.”

“you won’t. i promise. i will rest. i will be better. for carats, for my members, for my family and friends, for binnie. for you. for myself.”

she nods in approval. “alright~”

“if you keep up with that aegyo, i will eat you alive right here.”

“oh, seungkwan, you wouldn’t. not here. not in public.”

he raises his eyebrow. “wanna bet?”

she blushes more than what the cold could do. “stop it!”

he laughs and settles in a comfortable silence having her in his arms, just like they’ve done on countless other days in the calm of jeju—the calm of the island they called home.

“i couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

she hums in response, a small nod accompanying it.

“thank you.”

she held onto his hand tight. “don’t forget me.” tears threatened to fall.

“i could never.” more tears threatened to fall.

“we’re still in the same country.”

“exactly.”

“i’ll go to you.”

“i’d rather go to you. i get to go to jeju too.”

“you know that’s not realistic.”

“i know. i don’t care.”

“i care. i will go to you.”

“promise?”

she stays silent.

“no promises. right.” he sighs.

“i can’t promise. but i will go to you.”

“i will wait. but…no promises.”

night has fallen. the street lamps are glowing. their hoods are up. and they’re just two people in love, with no promises to keep.

[chanranghaeys]

🌆 love on the weekend

NOW PLAYING: seventeen's playlist - song # 1

pairing: joshua x gn!reader, school!au word count: 700 tags: fluff, John Mayer, more fluff, earphone sharing, the “i want this too” sickly sweet kind of fluff bc i rly want this too

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2017

“Have you listened to this?”

Shua plays a song from his phone and gives you the right earbud. The signature guitar plucks come through the earphones as he looks at you expectantly, slowly watching your expressions shift as the song plays.

“Huh, what song is this”

“It’s the new John Mayer song.”

“WHAT? No way.”

“Yeah! Listen to it.”

It's a cool Friday afternoon and Shua is on time as usual, picking you up from your last class for the week. You barely have any classes together this term, except for one in the early mornings of Mondays and Wednesdays. This means that while you get to start the week together—albeit in class—and unless you both make an effort on the weekdays, you don’t see each other again most of the time until these Fridays after class.

It's a Friday, we finally made it I can't believe I get to see your face You've been working and I've been waiting To pick you up and take you from this place…

Shua grasps your hand, fingers intertwining, and he raises it to place a kiss on the back of your palm. He looks at you with his smiling eyes and you can’t help but smile back. You end up leaning your head on his shoulder because you absolutely can’t bear the way your heart is beating after listening to the song’s first verse.

“Love on the weekend, love on the weekend, I’m coming up and I’m loving every minute of it.” Shua’s soft voice reaches your ears. You love it when he sings along to John Mayer’s songs. You could never listen to his songs the same way again when you found out the singer was one of his favorite artists too—you thought that it was rare for people to still listen to him. Instant green flag, was a thought that immediately popped into your mind.

“I love it already.” You say as you look up at Shua, who couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to.

“It’s us. It’s our song.”

You didn’t think you could smile any wider. “It is.”

“And I’ll be dreaming of the next time we can go into another serotonin overflow…” Shua resumes singing along, leaving you entranced and enchanted with both the song and this man who is holding your hand and who has done nothing but make you feel happy and loved on every single weekday and weekend you’ve spent together.

“Love on the weekend, love on the weekend, I’m busted up but I’m loving every minute of it.” You both sing along to the song’s hook, singing truths that sometimes only songs can contain.

The song ends and you return the earbud, a silly smile plastered on your face.

“Uh oh, I think you’ve malfunctioned.” Shua pokes your cheek in an attempt to get your attention.

“Stop it! You’re making me malfunction with your cheesy shit!”

You feel his hand rest around your waist. He brings you closer to his side and he laughs, its gentle and sweet sound pure music to your ears on its own.

“Get used to it, love. I will never stop if it means I get to see that smile. I love you too much.” He says this as if the plainest and simplest truth there is in the world.

You couldn’t help how your voice went up a few pitches, mockingly saying “Hmm? You loveeee me?”

“You and only you” He brings her around to face him and he looks at her eyes, eyes that he could look at until the end of his days. “You and I, and no one else.”

No one else. You believe him—how could you not—and nod in agreement. He replies with a kiss on your forehead. You could melt on the spot.

“Coffee? At the usual place?”

“Yes please.”

“Let’s go.”

Your hands find each other again, with stories about the week spilling from your mouths and hearts overflowing with love. It really was the little things like this that made your youth count. You two were young and in love, and you both swear never to forget this feeling until the day you turn old and gray.

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post a/n: fun fact actually—this is actually a flashback scene from like this mini delulu au my friends and i came up with when we were bored. and given that it’s a flashback…shua and reader weren’t this happy later on in the story so :( haha but i would like them to exist this happily in this pocket of the alternate universe

[chanranghaeys]

scenario 2 and 8 for scoups please

🍒 "you'll be okay."

prompts from @/novelbear: link scenario 2: waking their partner up for work when they notice their alarm didn’t go off; scenario 8: calmly reassuring the other it’s okay when they drop a glass, gently checking their hands for any injury.

pairing: idol!seungcheol x gn!reader word count: 951 tags: angst with comfort, cheol helps you calm down, reader is a stressed corporate slave jk warnings: cursing, reader on the brink of panic attack, broken glass and checking for injury

a/n: thank u anon and i’m so sorry for making you wait aaaaaa i might’ve taken some creative liberties from the prompts partly inspired bc ive been feeling stressed at work hkjsdhf but i hope you see this and i hope you like it 🫶

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Your breath tickled his cheek and he smiled. You couldn't see it, but his eyes crinkled the way you loved it. He missed you so much, so, so much.

Seungcheol had been gone a few months for their tour. When he told you his flight home would be a red-eye flight, arriving in the ungodly hours of the morning, he knew better than to expect you to be there to fetch him. He knew how busy you were already after all the work stories you were telling him over videocalls, with him constantly wishing he could be beside you instead to calm you the way he knew would work.

So when he arrived home, it took all his willpower to wake you up—he admired how adorable you looked in your sleep. But he knew you'd be in for a more pleasant surprise when you saw him in the flesh after so long.

“Wake up, baby.” You felt gentle lips land on your forehead, half-waking you from your deep slumber. Stop waking me up, was your immediate thought.

“Ten more minutes, mom.” You bat away the offending lips with a hand, and Seungcheol bit back the giggle threatening to come out.

“I’m home, love. Wake up.” You open your eyes and find his smiling ones, calm and comforting. Your line of sight then drifts to the clock hanging on the wall behind him—7:00 am. Oh, no.

“FUCK I’M LATE.”

Well, there went a supposedly peaceful morning.

You jumped out of your seat and hopped into the shower without even batting an eye toward Cheol, who was stunned to silence after your exclamation.

He just followed you to the shower and stood by the door. “Baby, what are you late for?”

“The board meeting! It’s in an hour!”

Ah, shit. Yep, he told you how important this specific board meeting was. It explains why he found you the way he did, slumped over your desk with an open laptop and sheets of paper strewn across it. You must’ve worked late into the wee hours of the morning while he was flying home.

You rush through your shower, your skincare routine, your breakfast that—thankfully—Cheol prepared in a rush while you were preoccupied. You were flying between your room and the dining room and the bathroom, frazzled and scatterbrained—both of which you could not afford to be this morning.

You shrug on your blazer while attempting to even out your eyebrow makeup, which you soon abandon because the piece of bread you were chewing was attempting to block your airway with how fast you were trying to chew. You rush to the kitchen to grab a drink, but then—

“FUCK!”

The sound of shattering glass resounded across the apartment. You were drenched, water soaking through your business attire and the kitchen floor following suit, the large shards from the broken pitcher were scattered across the floor. You were rendered still in shock, trying but failing to calm down the breaths that grew shallower by the second and the tears that were blurring your vision.

Cheol was just a few steps away, washing the dishes. He was trying to assess the situation before jumping in, but he couldn’t help it when you started saying “Cheol…” in the most heartbroken tone he’d ever heard.

He held out his hands and you held on to them as if they were your lifeline. “Come here, come to me. Be careful of the glass.” He guided you through and out of the mess, leading you to an open area to make sure you were both safe.

“Baby, are you okay? Are you hurt?” He immediately grabs your hands and carefully runs his hands across your body and clothes to make sure no stray glass shards will get you injured. You couldn’t answer him because you were too focused on regulating your breathing. When he was sure you were not hurt, he looked straight into your eyes and held your hands.

“Breathe with me. Can you do that?” You nod. “Ready?” He takes in a deep breath, and you follow suit but fail.

“Cheol, I’ll be late, I can’t be late—”

“I know, but you have to breathe.”

“No, you don’t understand—”

“No. Listen to me.” He looks you sternly in the eye. “You can’t leave the house like this, you’ll get hurt. We need to calm down first, okay? Breathe with me, okay?” Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat.

When your breathing finally slows and goes back to normal, that’s when you finally get a good look at him. He had no makeup on, showing the bags under his eyes that were more prominent than usual. He must have been living in his clothes for how many hours at this point. Above all, it sunk in how much you so badly missed him. You didn’t even greet him properly when he arrived.

“There we go. That’s my baby. Are you okay now?” Instead of answering him, you go in for a hug, one he eagerly returns. For a moment, you forget where you were and what time it was, until reality hit you again.

“Cheol, I’ll be late. I swear, I really can’t be late.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll drive you. Get changed, then you can do your makeup in the car. Tell your colleagues that your car broke down, while you were on the way—they’d have no choice but to believe that.”

“Okay.”

“And, love?”

You look at him. He kisses your forehead, pressing down with a tender firmness with a warmth that spreads throughout you, calming you down in an instant. As long as he was here by your side, you will be okay.

“You’ll be okay. I got you.”

[chanranghaeys]

watching “grave of the fireflies” with vernon

pairing: idol!vernon x gn!reader word count: 700+ tags: established relationship, movie night, comfort, some tears warnings: none (unless you count “grave of the fireflies” as a warning in itself)

a/n: in celebration of the news that this heartbreakingly beautiful movie will be coming to netflix soon yay. if you haven’t watched it like this fic vernon, please do watch it, it's beautiful, but maybe not alone if possible like this fic vernon haha

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“You, of all people, have never watched Grave of the Fireflies?”

Vernon is silent, his face mixing a pout, a scowl, and a side-eye you swear he got from Seungkwan. “I should have you know that it is not an easy film to watch, okay?”

“I know that. But Hansol Vernon Chwe, the film junkie, has not watched this masterpiece?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “I know it’s a masterpiece! I just…can’t bring myself to watch it alone.”

You tilt your head curiously. “Alone? You don’t have to watch it alone, though. Have none of the boys agreed to watch it with you?”

”I mean…I guess I just never got around to asking it. And you know how busy we can get. Oh, I think Jun hyung has watched it.”

“And?”

“He never wants to see it again.”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, okay. Very valid point.”

“So do you see my dilemma? I don’t want to watch it alone, and no one will watch it with me.”

“I’ll watch it with you.”

His eyes widen. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure you want to watch it again?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll watch it with and for you.” You shrug nonchalantly. “Besides, I’ve been kind of meaning to watch it again just because it’s been years since I first did. I like rewatching Ghibli films.”

The right corner of Vernon’s lip quirks up. He looks down bashfully. You take his hand in yours and duck down to meet his eyes as you smile back. “Are you free tonight?”

His gaze softens and he grazes a finger on your cheek. “Stop giving me more reasons to keep liking you.”

“Nope.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs at your cheekiness. He loves you so much.

“Fine, tonight it is. I’ll be there at 8.”

The credits start rolling and you blow your nose into yet another piece of tissue as you wipe the tears that just won’t stop falling. At this point, Vernon would usually automatically comfort you in a hug, but he was still honestly stunned by the whole ordeal he went through for the past 80 minutes of the film.

That was rough.

He was rendered motionless with so many thoughts running in his head, failing to come up with words for what he just watched.

“So,” you said in between sniffs. “How are you?”

He takes in a deep breath, and you hear a sniffle along with it. He wipes unshed tears from his eyes and just shakes his head. “Isao Takahata, may you rest in peace...but damn you. In the most respectful way, damn you.”

You let out a laugh in between your tears and you know it wasn’t you that needed comforting right now. You closed the distance and engulfed him in a hug, one he willingly folded in to be the little spoon.

“Thank you for going through that with me.”

You rested your chin on his shoulder and he moved his hand up and down your forearm that was wrapped around his chest. “I’m glad it was me, honestly. At least we both weren’t first-timers. We might be two blubbering messes by now if that were the case.”

“I’ll tell you right now,” Vernon breathed in deep. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to take care of you if that happened.”

“But it didn’t. So you have me here. I got you.”

“I love you.”

You wipe away a stray tear that escaped his eye. “I love you too.”

“Give me three business days to process all that.”

“Got it, boss.”

Silence. You knew that those three business days weren’t true, because you could almost see the gears working in his head as he looked ahead. In three...two…

“You know, actually, the way that the movie opened with Seita…”

You chuckled against his shoulder, disturbing his train of thought.

“What? What’s so funny?”

You shake your head, still smiling against him. “Nothing, nothing. Please continue.”

Vernon was so rarely the yapper, but not when it came to films. You absolutely adored this side of him. Despite both of you needing to wake up early for work tomorrow, maybe sleep could wait. You were both in for a long night of discussion.

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post a/n: it's so easy to write fluff for vernon like i churned this out so quickly?? idk man i love him so much :( i feel like the man has so many facets to him but the overarching one is that he's just an all-around nice guy. in real life, he's someone i'd really like to even just be friends with *sigh*

might also make this into a series thing of similar "slice of life" moments with the other members but let's see!

[chanranghaeys]

🕒 final boarding call

Airport reunions are the best, but airport goodbyes are the worst if you never wanted to say goodbye in the first place.

pairing: joshua x gn!reader word count: 2.3k tags: angst with (some) comfort, implied breakup off the page, open ending, mom it hurts, longing and yearning and pining

a/n: this is what happens when shua goes on wv live for 16 minutes after months of radio silence, time is weird here but just go with it please, shua i miss you

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“May I have your attention please. This is the final boarding call for Korean Air Flight 705 to Seoul. All ticketed and confirmed passengers should now be on board the aircraft at Gate 113.”

Fifteen minutes left.

This was the last round of announcements for the final boarding call. You both only had 15 more minutes left on the clock.

Yet here you two were, still seated at the same small cafe table, across the person you both never thought you’d hear or see from again.

The person you both would not admit how deeply and terribly you missed.

You clutched the disposable cup of black coffee close, allowing its heat to keep you warm and its bitterness to keep you awake. He could easily down the remnants of the iced americano in his hand, the cardboard sleeve already damp with condensation, but he bade his time. He always took his time with you.

An hour ago, he was grateful for the extra three minutes he took to double-check his luggage before leaving the airport cafe. Because if he had left three minutes earlier, then he wouldn’t have heard you asking if you could take his seat when he left, wouldn’t have almost bumped into you as he stood up, wouldn’t have seen the unguarded look in your eyes when you both slowly recognized who the other was.

“Shua.”

His breath caught in his throat when he heard his name from your lips and how distantly familiar it was. It had been too long, way too long for his liking since he heard your voice.

“Hi,” he breathed out. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing where to place his hands in the forced proximity between you two. And because you could not help but feel so stupidly and unreasonably homesick at how helpless he looked, you closed the distance between the two of you into a briefly civil hug.

“How are you?” You ask him. “What are you doing here in Tokyo?”

“Ah, this is just a layover. I’m going back to Seoul.”

“Oh, okay—”

He checks his watch. “I actually need to board in an hour.”

“…Oh.”

Shua sees your face fall for a moment. A surge of hope blooms in his chest at this, but he has to ground himself back to reality. “What about you? What are you doing here in Tokyo?”

“Actually, I’m also just here for my layover. I have…four hours, 25 minutes to go.”

“You just arrived?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’ve still got the long haul ahead of you,” he laughs lightly, his eyes closing into moon-like crescents the way that you always knew they did, and it pains you to see them and not be able to kiss them the way you used to. “Where are you off to?”

“Paris.”

“Paris—wait. No way. Is this what I think it is?”

“Yeah, it is. I’m going to work there, finally. And study. Mostly work, for now, but…I’m getting there.”

His eyes widen at this information you’ve just shared, and it pains him to know that he could not just hug you and sweep you off your feet the way he used to. So he settles for a hand on your shoulder, a gentle squeeze with his thumb slightly sweeping back and forth, before he says, “Wow. I’m so proud of you.”

Your heart swells at the comment. He’d always been rooting for you to reach this dream of yours since Day 1. You thought he wouldn’t be there to see it to fruition anymore, yet here he is. In a way, he is here.

You shake your head and remember where you both were. Did he say he was going to leave in an hour? “Shua, it’s so nice to see you again, really. It’s okay if you need to go. I think that was your boarding call I heard just now over the PA.” You stumble over your words, not knowing what to say, desperate to get this over with before you could embarrass yourself or worse, let out the emotions that were building up in your throat.

“Hey,” he catches your attention and you finally look at him. You see his gentle smile before you both look down at his wrist. That’s when you notice.

It was a simple watch you knew well, an inexpensive silver digital Casio watch, worn from years of use. He could've worn any fine watch he wanted—you're sure he’d already amassed the massive collection of timepieces that he only used to dream of, but it surprised you to see this particularly simple watch. It made you remember how years ago, you surprised him with it on his birthday saying, “This could be the start of your dream collection.”

“Don’t worry. An hour is a long time. I’ll take my time.”

You unconsciously let go of the pendant you’ve been worrying between your thumb and index finger. The way the light bounced off it caught Shua’s eyes. He knew that necklace—it was a birthday gift, a silver pendant inlaid with tiny cubic zirconias that glinted when you moved. But he didn’t know how or why you still had it, and why you were wearing it. He knew how sentimental you were with jewelry. You wouldn’t wear just any necklace on any given day—everything always had a meaning. That's how intentional you always were with what you did. It catches him off guard, but he decides to stay silent.

“Okay,” you say. You both sit down at the table in awkward silence. You wrack your brains with something—anything—to say. He sees your silent struggle, so he beats you to it.

“I tried baking, you know?” Shua launches animatedly into his story. “I went to this sandwich shop in Seoul recently that sold cookie sets and I got to try their white choco chip macadamia cookie. It was so good.” His face aimed to express just how delicious the said cookie was. “I tried the recipe and it turned out exactly the same!”

The laugh that escapes your lips was as natural as it could be. “Is that so?”

“Yeah!” His eyes sparkled, turning into two crescents when he smiled that smile that scrunched up his nose. You almost melt on the spot. You never thought you'd see that smile again. His face turned curious before he asked, “Did you ever get around to trying it? Baking?”

“Uh…no. No, I still want to try it. I don’t know, just really put it to the side with everything that's been happening.”

He saw the pinch of sadness in your eyes. If only he could tell you that you were the reason he became brave enough to try baking. “Well, it's high time you should! I told Mom about it. She said that cookies are always the easiest to bake as long as you follow the recipe. That could be your starting point.”

Mom. You realize he didn't say my mom. He said it as if she were still yours, too. “Oh yeah, how is she?”

“She's doing well. That's actually where I came from, we were in LA for a few weeks. She went home a bit earlier so I could spend some time alone there.”

“That's nice.” And before you realize it, you blurt out, “I miss her. It's been so long since I saw her.”

“She misses you too.” He looked straight into your eyes, lingering for just a moment longer and hoping it could also convey the words I miss you too.

You look back at him, a small smile growing on your face. He reciprocated it with his own. It was one of your favorite ways of communicating, both of you believe how much a simple curve of the lips can say. You both knew what those smiles mean even now.

“So you went back to LA? How was it?”

He exchanges stories with you as if no time has passed at all. Despite everything, you two knew each other the best. It turns out that you were still each other’s best friend. Surprisingly, not even time and space can change that fact.

“May I have your attention please. This is the final boarding call for Korean Air Flight 705 to Seoul. All ticketed and confirmed passengers should now be on board the aircraft at Gate 113.”

You both check the time. Thirty minutes left.

How was that 30 minutes already?

“So, Paris!” Shua claps in an attempt to turn your attention away from each passing minute. “Tell me about Paris.”

“I’m so excited!” The feeling is palpable in your tone. You recount your journey, never failing to remember all the support he showed throughout the parts of it where he was there. “Though, you’ve been to Paris, right? You know that it’s not exactly all that.”

“Yeah, all that glitters is definitely not gold,” he laughed as he sipped his cold coffee. “And all that smells isn’t exactly French perfume and fresh croissants.”

It was your turn to laugh at how bluntly he said everything in his matter-of-fact tone. “I heard! But if you ask me, Paris is really just a stepping stone. I don’t think I’ll stay there forever.”

“So where do you want to stay?”

Anywhere you are, is what you wish you could say. But you settle with, “I’ll cross the bridge when I get there. All I know is that this opportunity will bring me anywhere I want. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m proud of you. Really. I’ve said that right? But I really am. Wow.” He shakes his head, still in awe of the whole thing.

“Thank you, Shua.” You keep your coffee cup close to your lips, blowing softly as you cradle it with both hands. You shudder involuntarily because of the unexpected cold you felt in the airport despite the long-sleeved shirt you already had on. You regret leaving behind that jacket at home.

Ever observant, Shua deliberately shrugs off his cardigan and holds it out across the small table. His white shirt looked immaculate on him, and his bare face was etched with concern. It physically hurt your heart to look at him, but you know you could never stop. He held your gaze, his eyes wide open and full of unspoken emotions. How could he be this beautiful?

How could you both let go?

“Shua, please—”

“Just—I know you need it. You’re cold.” He gently shakes the cardigan in his hands to prompt you to take it.

Knowing you have no choice in the matter, you take it with a sheepish smile, surprised at how it was unexpectedly heavier than you thought it was. What you were wholly unprepared for was how it would envelop you in his scent, his perfume a light and clean musk mixed with the lived-in scent of him having worn this for what you assume were hours.

“I missed you.”

When those words were finally spoken out loud, it was as if a weight was lifted from both your shoulders, replaced with a sense of calm. You both thought it was taboo.

While the breakup was amicable, it was still painful. And while you both knew it was for the best and for the sake of one another, it was still the cause of many days passing with unshed tears in your eyes. Because if it really was for the best, why did it haunt your nights with the unfulfilled potential of what you could have been together?

Were you both really better off apart? That question never left your heads, as much as you tried pushing it down in the recesses of your brains.

And now you both see the answer. It was right in front of you.

“I missed you too.”

“May I have your attention please. This is the final boarding call for Korean Air Flight 705 to Seoul. All ticketed and confirmed passengers should now be on board the aircraft at Gate 113.”

Ten minutes left.

“I guess that’s my cue to go.” He stands up to gather his things. Your eyes follow his every move as if committing it to memory. You realize you actually are taking in as much as you can in this moment because he was leaving again, there is no other choice.

Do you really have no choice? No choice but to leave again? He turned these questions over and over in his head. No answers came up. Not now.

“Oh, wait.” You move to remove his cardigan on your shoulders, but he stops you and shakes his head.

“No, keep it.” He looks at you as if searching for something in your eyes. “Maybe you can return it when we meet again.” When we meet again.

He can’t help himself. He leans down for an embrace, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he rests his cheek on the crown of your head.

You can't help yourself. You stand to meet him in a proper embrace, not like the brief one you gave earlier. You wrap your arms tight around him, afraid to let him go again. He strokes your head and ventures a feather-like kiss to your temple in an attempt to comfort himself by holding you in his arms.

When you both break away, you find your hands latched together. You knew you could not utter a goodbye. Wordlessly, he looks at your hands. He looks up at you. And with one last smile, he let go and walked away.

“Shua!”

He looked back, with five minutes left on the clock for him to board. He took in as much of the scene as he could: the hustle and bustle of the airport seeming to quiet down to let him focus on you, your hopeful eyes, your mouth slightly turned up in a smile, your hands worrying at the cuffs of his oversized cardigan on you.

“Call me when you get to Seoul. Safe skies.”