#chanhee imagines | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sungbeam · 1 year

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𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬

model!choi chanhee x fem!assistant!reader

you were just supposed to be his assistant, but at some point, you'd come to mean a lot more to him.

6.4k words (WHOOPS my hand slipped), technically s2l, fluff, angst if u squint, slight pining?, kissing, model stuff and first world problems 😔✨, like one curse word, barely proofread

a/n: istg it wasn't supposed to be like this ;-; it would have been longer but i got impatient </3

Choi Chanhee once made a girl cry because she had forgotten his phone in the car. In his defense, he hadn't gotten much shuteye the night prior, but Kevin liked to always remind him of that instance.

They said that was the first, true moment the tabloids began painting him in a new light.

'Choi Chanhee, Model-zilla, Hits the Streets of Paris for Fashion Week Once Again'. 'Choi Chanhee's Ex-assistants Come Forward with Shocking Experiences'. 'Satin or Silk: the Truth Behind New's Refusal to Wear Alexander McQueen'.

The last one didn't even make sense; Alexander McQueen only used silk, anyway, and Chanhee had walked in one of his shows a few years ago. Chanhee simply hadn't the time to pen the designer into his schedule since.

The one about assistants? Well, they were all entitled to free speech, but that didn't mean that he would spare them any mercy if they decided to blatantly lie about him. He could always trust Lee Sangyeon, his personal attorney, to take care of business, if and when any of his ex-employees decided that a good payout was comparable to spewing filth.

Then there was you.

Chanhee hadn't needed a new assistant in a little over half a year since you came along. Fresh out of university with a bachelor's in communication and punctuality, you waltzed into his life, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You'd sat across from him, no-nonsense; he hired you right there. (He had not regretted it since. This was the last time he would let anyone but himself do the interview process.)

The best part about you was not that you always had his schedule memorized before he did, or that you appeared at his apartment before the car picked you both up with his favorite coffee order, or that you actually had decent taste in perfume—not… that he paid attention to what perfume you wore—but it was the fact that you could look him in the eye when he spoke to you, and you to him.

"—and you have a fitting with Chanel at five o'clock this evening right after that meeting with Maison Margiela about the perfume line. We'll have just enough time to—"

Wow, your eyes were pretty in this lighting, he thought. The two of you sat before the massive, floor-to-ceiling window in his penthouse apartment. The entire city laid sprawling at your feet while you sat across from each other at his breakfast table, eating blueberry muffins and drinking lattes.

And for some reason, all he could think about was how nice your hair looked again today, how brilliantly the shine in your eyes was from the sunlight, how impeccable your fashion sense was—even if it wasn't perfect, but that could easily be remedied. Chanhee would have to remind you to remind him to—

"Chanhee. Chanhee, are you listening to me?"

He snapped out with a flutter of his long eyelashes. He reached for his cup of coffee, delicately bringing it to his lips. "Hm? Of course, Maison and then Chanel. Did Changmin cancel our dinner or are we still on?"

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips when he saw how your expression lightened knowing that he was paying attention. You idly stirred your latte around with a little silver spoon. "He says he's still good to go for tonight. Same place, same time."

A nod. "Good."

He nudged up the Prada sunglasses on his nose as he turned his head slightly to gaze out the open window. It was an awfully beautiful day out today. The sunlight was gentle, the skies were an azure wave of silk, sewn with clouds of white. "Yn, dearest, are we clear until the Maison meeting?"

You blinked. "Yes," you answered, checking your watch for the hour, "it's 10:32 right now."

"Mm, that gives us about five hours to refresh your wardrobe."

Your lips parted, and he smiled in amusement. There was something so adorable about your flustered state. "Excuse me?"

"Call it a little token of my appreciation," he sang, standing up from the table to deposit his empty plate and cup into the kitchen sink. "Could you call the driver to round the front?"

"Oh, uh, sure—"

"Thanks, love. I'll be back in a few," he called to you just as he disappeared into his bedroom to freshen up. You were left at the breakfast table, dumbfounded. You'd only ever gone shopping with Chanhee for him or for someone else. Not you. You were always on the clock when you were with him, and you figured he would probably take everything you bought today out of your paycheck, but…

You couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in your chest like the wings of a butterfly. This could either be the best thing that happened to you… or a complete shitshow.

There was something odd about walking into one of Chanhee's go-to leisure shopping stores—Dior—with the mindset that you were supposed to be shopping for yourself. Chanhee had asked the driver to pull up to the Dior storefront even as the regular paparazzi camped outside.

Your eyes gazed longingly at the Macy's across the mall.

Chanhee followed your gaze with a little scrunch of his nose. "Absolutely not," he clicked his tongue, dragging you out of the vehicle and to the sidewalk.

The press already dubbed you a "miracle" for being in his employ for longer than a day. But when they got shots of him literally hauling you into the Dior… you could imagine what they would all claim now. This was going to be a whole lot of cleanup, but you had learned after months of working with Chanhee that he was way tougher than he looked. He also didn't mind biting back.

When the two of you were safely stowed away within the guarded interior of Dior, you breathed easier.

Straightening, you greeted the staff members with a shallow bow, who did the same to both you and your boss.

Chanhee wiggled his fingers in silent greeting, then beelined for a white, quilted blazer on a mannequin. A worker scrambled after him to talk about the piece while another stuck by your side to make small conversation.

"How was your morning?" They asked you pleasantly.

"Oh, it was quite nice! How was yours?"

"Pretty quiet," they smiled. They were about to say something else when both of you were interrupted with Chanhee calling your name.

His eyes were pinned to you from over the rim of his sunglasses. Draped over his arm was a tapered coat of some sort, a dress, and… oh, god no. "Yn, come here."

You could already hear your wallet crying. "Chanhee, I literally cannot afford a single thing in here—"

He pressed a palm between your shoulder blades and steered you in the direction of the dressing rooms. "That's besides the point because I can afford them; that's what matters."

Surprise made your footing falter. "Huh?"

"Silly Yn-ie," he teased, "did you think I was gonna bring you all the way out here to not treat you?" Before you could say anything else, he was shoving the items into your arms, and your body into the grandiose space of the Dior dressing room. He winked over his glasses. "Now hurry and put them on. I wanna see!"

He ripped the curtain closed, and you stood there for a moment.

In your hands were the jacket, the dress, and a pair of shoes that probably cost you more than your entire bank account combined. You blew out a puff of air, just as you heard a staff member offer him a glass of champagne on the other side of the curtain.

"No getting out of this, Yn," you muttered to yourself, then began hanging everything up."

Chanhee was no stranger to the effect he had on people. In fact, he wielded it like a dagger. It was how he had gotten so far in this industry in the first place other than his immaculate good looks, of course. The face of an angel and an attitude of the devil—at least, that was what one article had said about him. He quite liked it, actually.

There was something wholly different about his effect on you as you stood beneath his scrutinizing, heated gaze, as you tried on piece upon piece. He loved being able to unabashedly stare at you, to take in your flustered expression as you did little spins for him in the outfit of choice. For once, you couldn't look him in the eye, and when you had done so once, it had been when his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

It wasn't just the champagne he was tasting.

It was the next morning when you appeared in his home at 7 o'clock sharp, as usual, but with a new accessory hanging off your arm. It was one of the more low-key purses he had bought you yesterday—and to be honest, it was actually one of his personal favorites. It was a Chanel one, of course, and it complimented your pant suit quite nicely.

"Morning," you chirped, handing him his cup of coffee as he stumbled out of his room in a silk robe and with a yawn widening his mouth.

Chanhee smiled at the sight of you, graciously accepting the coffee from you. He leaned against the countertop next to you. "Good morning," he murmured lowly, peering at you over the rim of the cup, taking a languid sip.

He sighed as the caffeine began working its magic. "How are you this morning, dearest? Have a good night?"

You had set your purse down on the island, then moved away from him only to go check his refrigerator to see if he needed anything restocked. Always so attentive. "I had a good night. How was dinner with Changmin?"

"Lovely," he said fondly. "I see you are putting my gifts to use." His fingers danced along the gold chain draped along one end of the quilted leather.

He swore your cheeks flushed, but then again, his eyes had never tricked him for a second. "Ah, yes. Thank you so much for yesterday, by the way." The fridge closed softly, and you grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter to wash and munch on. "I really don't know how I can repay you—"

Chanhee dismissed you immediately, his wrist flicking outward. "Pfft, none of that. I told you it was all a token of my affection," he grinned, propping his chin onto his palm across the island counter from you. "And gratitude," he added. "I don't say this to just anyone, Yn, and I don't buy just anyone all that stuff—but I did it because I appreciate you."

Your chewing slowed and you swallowed. "Oh."

He said it so easily. God, was he lucky to have met you.

Knowing he had successfully rendered you speechless once more, he laughed lightly, deciding to change the subject. "What's today's schedule like?"

You immediately straightened; this was something you knew like the back of your hand. It was much more up your alley.

As you ran him through his activities today, you failed to notice the difference in his posture, the softer smile on his face, and the way his eyes could not leave you for a moment, not even to drink his coffee.

Grueling was an understatement. Today had been one of the worst days of your working existence under Chanhee's employ. You'd endured rough days and nights before, but today, it seemed to have been hassle after hassle after hassle. You probably got around thirty-thousand steps by how much you ran around trying to find emergency kits and emergency outfits and running to the emergency dry cleaner's.

As much as the fashion world enthralled you, sometimes you wondered how anyone could survive it.

Chanhee was just as maxed out as you were by the end. It was maybe three in the morning by the time the two of you collapsed into the backseat of his driver's car. Streets were barren at this time in the ungodly hours of morning, and your joints ached every time you breathed.

Chanhee was quiet as well as he leaned his head back against the headrest to allow his body some rest. He just barely managed to get through that last shoot—clearly the directors had no clue what they were doing, he thought with a dead look in his eyes. That was how he felt—dead. If it hadn't been for you swooping in with a creative direction…

You were brilliant; that much he was certain of. Without you, that shoot might have dragged on for another couple of hours, or Chanhee would have just walked out. Usually, he had a good sense and eye for things, but with everything that happened today, for once, he didn't have the energy to yell or direct.

He needed to treat you to brunch tomorrow, if he was even able to wake up in time—

His inner thoughts halted when he felt a sudden weight fall upon his left shoulder. He froze up.

Your head had slumped onto his shoulder, eyes closed and no doubt deep asleep. Your bangs had fallen out from the bounds of your ponytail and draped across your face as you slept. He could smell the Miss Dior on you with this proximity.

Chanhee smiled to himself, taking his other hand and brushing the hair from your face and gently caressing your cheek. "Cute," he murmured.

By the time the car rolled to a stop in front of his complex, Chanhee had made a couple of executive decisions.

He lightly roused you from your sleep, cooing into your ear, "Come on, Yn-ie. Let's get you to bed, hm?"

You hummed, lifting your head from his shoulder with a yawn. You rubbed your eye with no care for the makeup smudging. "Chanhee? Why're you still here?"

Normally, the driver would drop Chanhee off first and then you, especially when it came to late nights like this. But… what… was happening?

Chanhee helped you out of the car, thanking the driver while mustering up a kind smile for him. "You're too tired, love. I'm taking you upstairs to my place."

"Wait, I can't—" but you weren't physically protesting; your body ached and ached and ached. But this was your boss, your employer. This wasn't professional.

"Yn, you're exhausted," he countered, buzzing into the building and helping you inside.

You couldn't argue with him anymore. You just wanted your face to hit a pillow and be out for the night. "Okay," you mumbled, letting him press your face into his shoulder on the ride up the elevator.

"Good girl," he sighed. He tilted his head back against the elevator wall, one arm wrapped around your middle and the other cradling the back of your head. Just a little longer, then the both of you could finally get some well-deserved rest.

You would argue you had seen Choi Chanhee at some of his best and worst moments. He was one of the most beautiful human beings on this planet, and yet, none of the prior moments could even compare to when you stumbled out of his bedroom to the sight of his back to you as he fried eggs and ladled waffle batter into the maker in the kitchen. He had a big T-shirt hanging from his lean frame, as well as a pair of loose pajama pants on, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for everything to cook.

Even at ten in the morning, the light pink waves of his hair looked immaculately styled. You almost forgot he hadn't gotten a perm in awhile.

The panic of waking up in his sheets instead of yours had faded when you recalled your conversation with him just seven hours prior. He had managed to wrestle you into an extra set of sleepwear he just had lying around (Gucci, nonetheless), before he deposited you onto his bed, then promptly curled up outside on the living room couch.

You swallowed. Now what?

It was then that Chanhee turned around with an innocent look on his face. You watched as it melted into something softer at the sight of you. "Good morning, dearest," he beamed, "sleep well?"

Drowsiness lingered at the corners of your eyes, but you somehow managed a nod. "Yeah, how about you?" You asked him quietly. Actually, that had been some of the best sleep you'd ever had. Something about his sheets with high thread count and the smell of Chanhee lingering on everything. But you weren't just about to say that to him.

"Well enough," he replied. He waved you over. "Come sit; breakfast is almost ready."

Your eyes widened a smidge. That was for you? Now you really needed to go home. "Ah, I appreciate it, but I've practically overstayed my welcome—"

He sent you a look. "Yn, come have breakfast with me."

You caved. Because at this point, you'd already screwed yourself over. And breakfast really did smell nice; what was the difference between Chanhee making you breakfast and you bringing him breakfast from the café down the street?

(You didn't even want to go home, as much as your logical brain was trying to urge you towards.)

So the two of you breakfasted, and for a moment, you could forget, for once, that you were just supposed to be his assistant.

Some things changed after that morning, and Chanhee found himself getting you to stay over more and more often. Even if he had to come up with something stupid like "You haven't watched the 2001 New York Fashion Week rerun?" For some reason, you bought into all his excuses, and even though he knew it was probably because you were always attentive to his needs, a part of him liked to fantasize that you felt it, too.

The pull.

Something had shifted after that morning when he made you breakfast and the two of you ate together at the breakfast table. Sleep had lingered in your eyes, and your hair was a mess, but it was soft and beautiful and… he'd never been so in awe at someone's "I woke up like this" look.

His heart had leapt at the sight of you in those pajamas with that subtle pout to your lips.

God, he thought he might sweep you into his arms and kiss y—

"New. Chanhee. Choi Chanhee—"

He blinked, lifting his eyes from his menu to meet Changmin's. "Hm?"

Changmin wrinkled his nose at him, adjusting the sunglasses seated atop his head to hang from the collar of his dress shirt. (How it managed to hang with two buttons popped open, Chanhee chalked it up to fashion magic.) "You're awfully quiet today. What, tabloids finally shut you up?" He joked.

Chanhee rolled his eyes. "One of these days, I swear, they will render me speechless with their ridiculous delusions," he muttered airily, half-heartedly skimming the menu again.

He and Changmin were seated at their usual booth in their usual restaurant at their usual time. It was their weekly dinner together, something they had kept up since their university days in order to keep themselves grounded. They, of course, touched base with all of their university friends often, but the two of them were two peas in a pod. They even refused to let Sunwoo in on these weekly dinners specifically (something the younger friend was undoubtedly salty about).

Changmin could figure out when Chanhee was occupied with something other than the present. Usually, he was all up and out of his seat dealing out gossip or what torture he and you had been… oh.

Changmin cocked his head to the side, nostrils flaring slightly as he tried and failed to suppress a sly smile. "How's Yn these days?" He asked nonchalantly, lowering his eyes to the menu in front of him even though he always got the same thing every time.

To his credit, Chanhee didn't even react. "She's lovely as always. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," Changmin drawled, "you haven't gushed about her like you usually do. I feel like you hang out with her more than me."

Chanhee raised a brow at his friend. "She's my assistant; of course I'm going to spend more time with her."

"Yeah, but—"

"And she's a lot more agreeable most of the time."

"Hey!"

Chanhee grinned in impish delight. "You asked."

Changmin sent him a stink eye, huffing as he raised his hand up to summon a waiter. "Yeah, whatever. Okay, but you literally refused to go out with me the other night, and when I texted Yn if you had a schedule, she said that you two were at home!"

That got his attention. Chanhee pursed his lips together, sheepishness peering through his smile. "In my defense, she hadn't seen New York Fashion Week in 2001."

"You hated that year, Chanhee."

"Exactly."

Changmin sighed to himself, and just as he was about to add on, a waiter came by to take their order. Once that was done, Changmin laced his fingers over the table and leveled his friend with a pointed look.

"Just admit that you like her."

Oh, Changmin. If only you could hear the rapid palpitations of his heart when you called him out like that. Chanhee blinked innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he swallowed.

It wasn't even two days later that Chanhee had you staying a little later at his place, once again. There was something jazzy and vibey playing in the background, while Chanhee finished up plating dinner and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. You were over at the small table by the window pouring wine into twin glasses, your hair pulled haphazardly out of your face (for the most part) with a pearl-studded claw clip from Chanhee's personal PR box.

(You blatantly refused, but he then reminded you that he couldn't even use the clip himself.)

Chanhee didn't often think about sharing his life with someone, but it was moments like these—moments when he heard you hum under your breath, moments when the two of you could laugh about the day over dinner, moments when you weren't just his assistant but someone closer—that he could indulge himself. He wasn't a very domestic person; since childhood, he dreamed of places far away from home, seeing sights and experiencing cultures… but if he could come home to you? And experience this every time?

Suddenly dinner was over, and you were collecting dirty dishware and glasses to bring to the sink to wash.

"Yn-ie, hey, I can wash those—"

"No, no! You made dinner; I am washing dishes," you asserted, pushing him away from the sink when he tried to come up to you.

Chanhee broke into a laugh, coming up behind you to set his hands on your shoulders and rub the upper parts of your arms. "Okay, okay. Thanks, love," he said. He didn't even think before he pressed a kiss to your cheek and walked off to go to the bathroom.

Your cheek tingled where his lips had been, and you turned the faucet on to drown out the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears. What was happening?

You felt like you were floating on air as you hummed to the music and washed the dishes, with the ghost of Chanhee's lips left lingering on your cheek. It served as a reminder of your growing affections for him. This was dangerous, dangerous territory, and yet… it was thrilling. It was new, bold, and delectable. It was Chanhee, for goodness sake.

He was the man you saw crying drunkenly over a cat video on TikTok, the man who lended you Gucci pajamas and his bed for the night. He was on the face of every magazine cover, always excited when you could read his mind about a certain piece of clothing. Everyone in the world wanted to be him or be with him. He was so out of reach, yet right in front of you.

Maybe it was the wine making your head buzz with this wave of unmitigated sentimentality.

You finished up with the dishes, drying off your hands with the towel hanging on the oven door. Chanhee sang your name out from somewhere deep inside his bedroom, and you followed his voice to his location.

He was seated on the rug in the middle of his walk-in closet, the white LEDs washing you with light. It was a far cry from the darkness of his bedroom and the warmth from the kitchen. Chanhee patted the spot next to him on the carpet, where he had a smattering of PR gifts littering the floor around him.

Curious, you lowered yourself next to him. "Are we sorting through PR stuff?" You asked, already making a mental catalog of all the things he'd probably want to keep and the things he'd want to donate.

Chanhee hummed his dissent, rising onto his knees and shuffling over to you. Your eyes widened as he stopped close to you and you held your breath. He raised a pair of twin diamond drop earrings from Tiffany and Co to your earlobes, eyes narrowed in consideration.

"No," he muttered, dumping the earrings into their box, then digging out another.

You scrambled to delicately put the earrings back into their proper holdings. "Chanhee, what are we doing?"

"You—" Chanhee returned with a pair of sapphire earrings this time, performing the same ritual as before, but this time smiling, "—are going to sit still and look pretty for me. I am going through the PR stuff for anything nice."

"Anything nice?" You parroted in disbelief. It wasn't like he just threw a pair of diamond earrings into a box like it wasn't nice, or anything.

"I've never seen you in pearls before," he said offhandedly. From a black velvet bag, he withdrew a string of pearls clasped at the end in gold. His mouth parted in awe, and you suddenly thought of how cute he looked. Chanhee, oftentimes, was attractive and elegant and spellbinding—but this Chanhee was adorable.

He eyeballed it around your neck, then moved to clasp the collar onto you. He brushed the stray strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, gently grazing the pads of his fingers along the warm skin there. The action sent a shudder down your spine, and you were reminded of the cheek kiss from earlier.

"There," he murmured, coming back around to inspect you from the front. "Looks much better on you than it would on me."

You scoffed, reaching up to touch the cool pearls seated on your collarbone. "I disagree wholeheartedly."

He had turned around to go digging again, but the grin he threw over his shoulder at you was a certified heart stopper. "Then we'll just have to go get me a matching one."

"This is the last time I'm letting a company get me lunch," Chanhee grimaced as both you and he feverishly dabbed at the sauce splattered on his cream silk blouse.

One of the interns working on today's interview and shoot had come to deliver him his lunch when you noticed that the sauce lid on top was a dark red and not the usual light mayo Chanhee always requested beforehand. That, as well as the fact that the lid wasn't fastened all the way. Suffice to say that when you were about to point it out, said intern became flustered at Chanhee's side profile and spilled his lunch onto him.

You made sure to send the intern away before Chanhee could react.

"This was the Burberry one Haknyeonie got me," he whimpered in devastation as he took in the mess of dark brownish-red on his chest.

"Hey, it's okay. The cleaner I usually go to can fix it up," you said, biting your lip and assessing the situation. You gave a sigh, straightening, then swiping at the dampness on your forehead. "For now, you'll have to change into something else."

Chanhee pouted. "I promised I would wear this one for the interview…" He glanced back over at the clothing rack in the far corner of the dressing room at the dozens of options he had, as well as the backups you had brought, when all he wanted was to wear the shirt Haknyeon had given to him.

You wondered how long you had until the interview. You wondered how fast you could run to the dry cleaners and how fast they could fix this, if only to make that pout on Chanhee's face go away.

He pursed his lips. "I'll change into the YSL one," he resolved, standing from his vanity chair to go grab the YSL blouse from its garment bag. "Y'know," he said to you as he disappeared behind the changing divider, "we'll probably see something about this in the tabloids sometime tomorrow, depending on how bored the press people are."

You leaned back against the vanity counter, mentally noting the time. Hair and makeup would be here soon since the interview was set for half past noon. Chanhee would have to wait until afterwards before he could eat lunch. You frowned, "It wasn't your fault, Chanhee."

"I know." You saw him drape the dirtied Burberry blouse over the top of the divider and you walked over to take it down and inspect the damage yourself. "But it doesn't have to be my fault."

Unfortunately, he was right. The press would do anything for a juicy story, even if that meant twisting the facts just a little. You abhorred those stories; you always saw Chanhee's eyes glaze over like a shield at the "model-zilla" headlines, when in fact, it had little to do with Chanhee's "attitude". You wondered if someone would blow up his reaction to this out of proportion—he hadn't said anything to the intern before they ran out of the room in tears, but you supposed if you had spilled coffee on someone with as much name power as Chanhee, then you would also freak out.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, leaning slightly against the divider. A weight sank into the pit of your gut; you felt pathetic. These were one of the few things you couldn't just fix for him.

You thought you felt him lean back against the divider on the other side. "Nothing to be sorry for, dearest. It's just a shirt."

It wasn't just a shirt. It wasn't just the tabloids.

Chanhee, being the professional he was, carried on through the interview and subsequent photoshoot with elegance and grace. He wasn't in a bad mood, save for the slight melancholy in his smile when the intern's superior came by to apologize profusely and offer to have the blouse dry-cleaned for him. Chanhee politely declined—he only trusted one person with his items.

When you and Chanhee finally made it back to his penthouse suite, the sun had disappeared into the seams of the horizon, hoisting a bejeweled night into the sky. Chanhee collapsed onto the couch face-first while you dropped everything on the floor by the door and made a beeline for the refrigerator.

"I'm making tea," you declared.

Chanhee raised his head slightly. "Me too please."

You got the electric kettle started and brought out two porcelain mugs. While you waited for the water to finish boiling, you fished your phone out of your pocket to check your messages to see if the dry cleaners had alerted you yet as to the status of the blouse. On the way back, you had swung by to get the shirt to the dry cleaners. Hopefully it would be done by tomorrow morning so you could go pick it up.

Chanhee shifted and adjusted his positioning on the couch. He sat upright, leaning his cheek against his fist. "Yn-ie."

"Hm?"

"I'm lonely over here."

You huffed air out of your nostrils in a silent chuckle, but obliged him and went over to the couch. He raised his arms up toward you, making grabby hands and pouting. "You're lonely?" You repeated in amusement, slotting yourself next to him and allowing him to curl into your side.

"Well, not anymore," he said into your shoulder.

The apartment filled with the sound of water bubbling on the stove and the muffled sounds of the city outside the window.

With nothing said, you could imagine for a second that this was not your job, but your life instead.

You felt him move a little, his arms wrapping around your stomach. "Thank you," he murmured, "for everything."

Your chest tightened. "Of course," you replied simply. Because doing all of this for him was as easy as breathing air now. Taking care of him had become as easy as breathing air. It was just that simple.

He was quiet again, fingers fidgeting with the cuffs of your blazer. Something lingered in his mind.

"Yn…" He slowly brought himself to sit up straight, one hand braced on the cushion space between your bodies and the other on the back of the couch. His face was so close—you could see the baby pink hairs falling in his eyes, the bits of glitter on his eyelids, the length of his lashes brushing his cheeks. But there was something wobbling, shimmering in his irises like the ripples in a pool of water. "I think we need to talk."

Your voice was trapped in your throat. He was going to fire you. He was going to tell you that all of it had been a lie. He was going to—stop. Stop freaking out. You knew him. You knew him better than what the people on the outside only claimed to know about him. You gulped. "Okay."

Chanhee brought his hand up toward your face, but instead stopped short, his hand dropping. He wet his lip, head ducking for a second before meeting your eyes again. "You know how much I appreciate everything you do for me, right?"

Oh no.

You nodded shallowly, hands clasped in your lap. "Mhm."

"And you know that I would rather hurt myself before ever hurting you?"

You didn't like where this was going. "Chanhee—"

His eyes shuddered. "Just—just listen for a second. I promise I'll let you speak, just… I just need to get this out."

"I can't really think straight," you croaked. His cologne—god his cologne. You would die suffocating in his cologne, but he was so close and yet so out of reach.

You thought you saw hurt flash across his face. "Oh. Uh, I'm sorry—" He was leaning back now, and you were internally hitting yourself. You'd never heard Choi Chanhee stutter before.

You resisted the urge to say "come back". Come back, where you could pretend that he was yours. Shit, this had gone too far. "Chanhee, I think I have to quit."

Alarm shot his eyes wide open. "What?"

"I can't keep working for you because I have feelings for you," you blurted, staring him straight in the eyes. "I have to quit because the feelings—the want—I have for you are so strong and precariously unprofessional. And I'm sorry, because this was the best job I could've ever gotten, but—"

Chanhee grabbed your face and crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. Shock had you freezing, but it wasn't long before you held him close and let him wholly devour you.

When he pulled away, his forehead was pressed against yours, the space between your lips near nonexistent. His hands were still cupping the sides of your face and his breathing was slightly labored; all either of you could feel, hear, smell, taste were each other.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudibly you thought you'd imagined it. But then he said it again, "I love you", and everything…

Everything settled.

"How could you?" After all, you were just… you. It seemed impossible that someone as high as he was could love someone like you.

His reply was simple, paired with a sweet return to your lips. "How could I not?"

You stood outside the massive, sky-piercing high-rise of Vogue headquarters, your heart pounding in your ears and your fingers drumming nervously against the seam of your dress pants. In about twenty minutes, you would be in the topmost office of the building interviewing for a chance to become CEO Anna Wintour's newest personal assistant.

"Well?"

You glanced over to your left where Chanhee stepped beside you, asking the driver to make a loop around the building and meet him back here in a few minutes. His hair, freshly dyed a silken midnight black, had grown slightly to mullet-length; and this morning, he was clad in a pristine white suit set in a classy contrast. A pearl collar sat on his defined collarbones like it was a throne. Beautiful, as always.

There were reporters lurking around here somewhere. That definitely didn't make any of this better for you.

You released a breath. "I've got this, right?"

He passed you a gentle, yet teasing grin. "Hey, you survived me. How much worse can she be?"

That made you crack a smile.

The two of you stood side by side staring up at the building for a moment longer. After you had quit being his assistant to instead be accepted as his partner, you and Chanhee worked to find you a new gig. You received about a hundred dozen job offers from lesser brands and big names when they all heard you were leaving Chanhee's employ on good terms. Anyone who survived Chanhee, and left with a stellar recommendation letter, was a hot commodity.

Chanhee reached for your hand, squeezing your fingers slightly. "Breathe, darling. You'll be in and out and hired before you know it."

He turned you around so you faced him. His tongue stuck out between his lips as he adjusted the pearl necklace around your throat, then the lapels of your jacket. "Wow," he breathed out.

"Huh?" You hummed with a smile in your eyes.

"You still take my breath away."

A nervous laugh fell from your lips, and Chanhee swooped in to taste it—that, your laugh.

"I love you," he murmured against your mouth. Nevermind all the press and paparazzi, or Anna Wintour, or anyone. This was just you and him, even for a little. You could imagine the headlines, but that was the last thing on your mind right now.

Your tongue swiped over his bottom lip to catch the last bits of him. "I love you, too."

There was a cunning glint in his eyes, offset by the soft smile on his face. "Okay, this is it. Call me if you need anything."

You began walking toward the entrance backwards. "What if I need you?"

His smile widened. "I said call me, didn't I? Anytime, anywhere." I'm yours.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @ethereal-engene @justalildumpling @vatterie @yogurteume @kflixnet

#kflixnet #the boyz x reader #choi chanhee x reader #chanhee x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz drabble #the boyz fluff #chanhee imagines #chanhee scenarios #chanhee oneshots #chanhee drabbles #chanhee fluff

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kimsohn · 4 months

Text

even if the world caves in,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

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

Hollywood’s favorite celebrity turned dancer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re gritting through your teeth as you answer.

“No comment. Next question, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for your time, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Chanhee, I know it’s you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please turn on the fucking news Vernon.”

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

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

“Vernon, it’s Chanhee.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sangyeon nods, urging him to continue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chanhee scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actually, it might be a little bit bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, watch out!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Be there in five.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile, watching Chanhee be starstruck by his surroundings.

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

He laughs, relaxing a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, thank you. See you soon.”

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

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

on set. wbu?

Driving to somewhere special!

oooh spill??

I’ll let you know after I get there

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? I didn’t know.”

You nod in confirmation, grinning slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chanhee, I—”

“Get off me. Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then help me understand!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you drunk?”

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

“Where are you right now?”

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

“Send me your location.”

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

“Y/N, wait—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanted to cuss you out.”

“Okay, so cuss me out then.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple.

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

“Y/N, I—”

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

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

“Let me follow you up,” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good night, Y/N.”

You’re far too asleep to even respond.

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

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

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

“Good morning. Sorry I overslept.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chanhee, you’re not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Forever and always."

114 notes · View notes

from-izzy · 4 months

Text

the warmest winter | tbz choi chanhee | new

"She has a date with me tomorrow."

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

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

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

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

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

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

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

But this Friday is a bit different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knew I could count on you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Date me instead.”

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

“What?”

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

“Fake!”

“HUH?”

“Like, fake dating!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that soothe your chaotic mind?”

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

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

“No kissing!”

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

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

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

“W-What are you…doing…?”

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

“No one is here, Chanhee.”

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

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

“Wait Chanhee…”

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

That's more than worth it for him.

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

“I hope…”

“Who is it with this time?”

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

“Lee Juyeon.”

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

Lee Juyeon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But again, Juyeon is everything Chanhee isn’t.

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

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

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

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

“She has a date with me tomorrow.”

“Wait, Chanh—”

“Right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Juyeon…huh?”

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

“Do you like Juyeon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all so awesome.

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

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

It seems right.

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

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

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

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

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

It’s suffocating.

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

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

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

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

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

Still no sign of him.

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

“That’s…going to make a mark.”

That voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boyfriend.”

“W-What?”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

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

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

“O-Oh…”

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

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

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

And fail, did you not.

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

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

With your heart.

With you.

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

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

“Thanks for making my winters warmer.”

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

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cloverdaisies · 2 months

Text

# UR SUCH AN EMO! ｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

— choi chanhee x gn!reader

₊⊹⁀➴ description: the popular kid meets his unconventional match in one of the school’s most hated emo’s. from lab partners to cleaning buddies: the events that caused social royalty to fall in love with someone from the very bottom of the high school food chain. ｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

₊⊹⁀➴ genre: angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

₊⊹⁀➴ word count: 4.1k+

₊⊹⁀➴ a/n: happy belated birthday @sanaxo-o , ily a lot, hope you enjoy this little piece i put together 4 u 🫶 it’s been in the works for a while but i really wanted to complete it for you. ｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

₊⊹⁀➴ warnings: mentions of bullying, frequent arguing.

The sound of crashing drums and noisy guitar riffs leaked from your headphones, lazily dragging your shoes across the pavement as you were unwillingly met with the gates of the hell that was school. As usual, the halls were like the inside of a incredibly overpopulated zoo, with heads being met with the sides of lockers and the boisterous roars of students celebrating the beginning of the last semester of senior year.

You couldn’t be more excited to finish school, considering school simply wasn’t the safest place for anyone with alternative taste in anything. You clumsily made your way to your locker, abruptly pausing the music in your headphones before placing them on the shelf and shutting it with a slam.

“Someone’s not happy.” You sighed at the voice beside you, a familiar voice that has haunted your nightmares since you were at least 14 years old. “If you wear anymore eyeliner, you’re gonna start looking like your cosplaying a panda.”

“Good one.” One of other boys perked up, cheering on the other with a pitiful snicker sucking up to him like a little minion in goggles and dungarees ready to steal the moon.

Sunwoo definitely wasn’t the nicest guy to be around in high school, it certainly didn’t help that your locker was conveniently placed next to his so you got the divine pleasure of seeing him everyday. It also didn’t help that his group of minions congregated around that space 24/7 during every break like they had nowhere else to be.

However, he wasn’t the worst of the bunch. If anything it was a boy called Chanhee, he always had something to say, in fact too many things. “Your headphones are making my ears bleed.” , “Try not to wear black challenge!” , or just simple things sometimes like “I HATE your shoes.” You couldn’t deny you brought that upon yourself after one time you’d made fun of the fact he’d worn a beret to school, yeah the entire, “dAd yOu CaNt dO tHiS i WaNna gO tO fAsHioN sChoOl” comment you’d made didn’t sit well with him.

He stood towards the back of the small circle, him, Sunwoo and Changmin were the only ones that had arrived on time surprisingly, as some of that group seemed to only turn up half way through the day when they felt like it. The others weren’t as bad either, Hyunjae was a nice guy and so was Haknyeon, the rest you hadn’t had too much interaction with, thankfully.

Breezing past them with a sigh, you threw your bag over your shoulder and decided it’s best to ignore them rather than make any attempt to clap back. Besides how could you waste anytime when you had the extremely fun class that was chemistry to rush to?

“Okay class, welcome. Take your seats.” Your chemistry teacher welcomed you in with a jovial smile, his combover gelled so stiffly it would survive a hurricane intact. "We're jumping straight into some lab work today, I've assigned you partners based on ability."

The entire class let out a unanimous groan at the thought of set partners, the excited glances made by bestfriends across the room being replaced with long frowns. However, for you, this was simply the best case scenario since you didn’t have any friends in this class. At least that’s what you thought until the teacher spoke some unfathomable words that sent you spiralling as soon as they fell from his tongue.

“Y/n, you’re with Chanhee on this bay.” He called from the second row, you glanced over at Chanhee who rolled his eyes with a groan grabbing his bag and grumpily shoving it down next to his stool.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not happy either.” You laughed sarcastically, sitting beside him as he rested his head on the desk in frustration.

The teacher went on to explain the test you’d be carrying out, different chemicals reactivity in water, recording the results and comparing the differences. It was pretty simple, since it’s was just a warm up to ease the class into the semester. Hopefully the time would pass fairly quickly so you wouldn’t have to sit next to mr. miserable for much longer.

“Are you just going to sit there or help?” You sighed, watching the boy sit up with sleepy eyes peaking through the strands of his dyed blonde hair. You passed him a pair of protective goggles, dropping them in front of him as he jolted awake.

“Sorry, I fell asleep you’re that boring.” He replied satirically placing his glasses on. He sported a false smile gleaming off his white teeth, his eyes creasing and smile lines faintly showing at each peak of his lips.

“Charming.” You raised your eyebrows momentarily, filling the plastic basin with water and placing it on the table in front of you. You took turns dropping chemicals into the water watching the the chemicals fizz or even catch light at times. Recording the sound and visual on paper as well as the time taken for it to stop.

“So why do you hate me so much?” You asked the boy curiously, crossing your arms as you watched him scribble down some more notes in his workbook.

“I don’t?” He laughed slightly, shaking his head, his golden earrings dazzling under the light. “I’m more annoyed I have to work with you, because to him, hopefully I can get your grades up.”

“So you’re crying because you think you’re doing charity work? Get over yourself.” You snickered, not breaking eye contact as he stared you down with an intense glare, his pupils darkened in silent rage.

“Maybe you should get over yourself, huh? You ever thought about that, don’t talk to me on your high horse when you had no reason to make fun of me for what I wear in the first place.” Chanhee spat, thankfully the ringing of the school bell paused the argument, diffusing the tension in the air.

The class was dismissed, and in your next few classes you couldn’t stop thinking about what you would have said back to him in that conversation. Perhaps something along the lines of “Isn’t that what you and your group have done to me everyday for the past 5 years?” If the bell hadn’t rang there would have probably been some sort of cat fight break out.

Soon it was lunch, and as you were sitting with your friends on your own table you felt an intense stare across the room. You looked up inquisitively at the feeling of eyes on you, spotting the same group of boys Sunwoo, Chanhee and the others you like to call the minions ( come on they literally have one called Kevin ) staring at you like hawks. You rolled your eyes and continued talking with your friends, eyes occasionally wandering to the other side of the room. You needed another drink, squashing your empty carton of apple juice and throwing it into the trash can nearby —landing a pretty cool trick shot.

“He’s not very happy with you.” A polite voice chimed from in front of you in the line of the canteen, “Said you got in a bit of an argument.”

You turned to see Haknyeon, nibbling on cherry tomatoes from a plastic packet like a small mouse, whilst heartily filling up his lunch tray and sliding it across the surface.

“I can tell that, the minions seem to have a bit of a staring problem.” You chuckled looking over the group where they were trying to land food into each others mouths from large distances, yelling boyishly when Juyeon caught a grape from across the cafeteria.

“He’ll get over it.” Haknyeon shrugged, as he got to the front of the line ready to pay for his food. He held out the plastic packet of tomatoes he was snacking on and offered. “Tomato?”

“No thanks, I hate them.” You laughed slightly, listening to the beep as his card was accepted on the lunch reader.

“More for me then.” He shrugged, stuffing his face with another before flashing the brightest and cutest smile you’d ever seen. You paid for your drink, sitting back at the table with a sigh, glancing back over at Chanhee as he smiled and laughed along with the other boys in glee.

Next period after Lunch was English, the sound of the teacher reciting quotes from The Great Gatsby singing you to sleep like a lullaby. It also didn’t help in front of you, Chanhee and Hyunjae were sat working away taking notes. After the argument you’d had this morning with him, the presence of Chanhee couldn’t put you anymore on edge.

“Hey y/n… y/n? Wake up.” Hyunjae flung a pencil towards your head, abruptly causing you to sit up straight at your desk eyes sensitive to the bright lights around you.

“What?” You rubbed the top if your head where he’d hit and groaned in annoyance. “I was getting a good amount of sleep there.”

“I’m having a party on Friday, you wanna come?” He asked, with bright eyes and a grin of genuine interest spreading across his face.

“You know, I always say no.” You replied with a sarcastic jingle, situating your head back on your desk and yawning tiredly.

“That is not happening. Even if you say yes there is no way I’m letting you come.” Chanhee chimed in with a shocked gasp, laughing to shake off the thought of you being at one of Hyunjae’s events.

“Can’t you just be nice? Y/n’s my friend and actually is pretty damn cool if you get to know-” Hyunjae laughed, thinking the other boy couldn’t be serious but was sharply cut off before he could finish his sentence.

“Are you even my friend?” Chanhee scoffed, immediately going back to his work and not making eye contact with him. Hyunjae shrugged at you, offering a sympathetic smile and going back to his own work.

You didn’t pay anymore attention to the pair of them, your head reintroducing itself back to the table planning to nap the rest of the lesson away.

“Jesus wake up.” You felt a push at your arm, “You can’t interrupt my sleep and then start snoozing behind me.”

You looked up at Chanhee in annoyance, raising an eyebrow whilst observing the disgusted look on his face. You smiled, taking a breath, choosing your words carefully before speaking to the brown eyed boy.

“Will you do us both a favor? And stop speaking to me?” You spoke calmly with a false sweetness loading each word like a bitter bullet, watching as his eyes rolled to the top of their sockets and back.

“That’s enough! Y/n and Chanhee! Both of you out of the classroom.” The teacher demanded, fed up of the disruption from the corner of the classroom. You both got up, more than annoyed leaving the classroom door with a slam.

“You’re so dead for this.” Chanhee glared at you in annoyance his palm resting against his forehead as he tried to destress.

“Deserved. If you kept your mouth shut we wouldn’t be here, would we?” You smiled as he sighed, it was quite funny watching him being kicked out of class for the first time — a place you’d been so many times before, but for him it was more than ego crushing.

“What brings you both out in to the corridors?” The sound of heels clicking down the corridor, has both your heads turning towards the principal with a sigh. “Kicked out of class.”

“Not intentionally.” You groaned, hating having to encounter the woman considering she had her eyes on you 24/7 for sleeping through classes and not doing any homework contributing to your grade.

“Y/n, you can’t be pulling down the reputation of some of our best students like Mr. Choi here. Seeing as the both of you aren’t in lesson, the music store room actually needs cleaning and it would be amazing if you could help.” She smiled, passive aggressively clasping her hands together like a fly.

You’ve got to be kidding me, was the only coherent thought to pass your brain, it was only the first day back and you’d already gotten yourself into so much in just a few hours. She brought you to the storage room, where there was clutter everywhere, cardboard boxes, trash, old instruments just scattered over the unseeable floor.

“It might take a few days, so I’ll make sure you both commit to this for at least an hour each day until it’s clean. No free periods after lunch, got it?” She cocked an eyebrow at the two of you, pulling the dusty chain for the dim light bulb that barely lit the room.

“Yes Ms.” You both replied unenthusiastically, beginning to move boxes to make some walking room amongst all the chaos in the room.

“I could really use a coffee right now.” You groaned as the door slammed shut behind her with a deafening screech, the both of you covering your mouths with your forearms due to all the dust.

“You’ve just slept like a sloth for an hour and you need coffee? Pfft.” Chanhee scoffed, adding on a cough at the end blowing the dust out of his face with a look of disgust painted all over his face. “I can’t believe you got me into this.”

“You got yourself into this because you can’t keep yourself quiet, you’re just always dying to say something negative to me.” You put down the box you were carrying into a pile in the corner, the fragile cardboard wearing thin.

“Only because you for, some reason, think it’s okay to be mean to me too!” He snapped back once again referencing the time you’d made fun of his outfit one day, pulling his red sweater over his palms as he lifted another box.

“I was actually gonna say earlier, don’t you think I hear the same thing everyday from your gang of guys? Do you think that one time I made fun of you outweighs the last 5 years of you making them at me?” You turned around, tears welling in your eyes as you spat your words of frustration out in to the air. A moment of silence lingering, the tension in the air so cuttable and cold it felt like shards of ice hitting your skin, the nerves and adrenaline painting a pink color your in your cheeks.

“Just because they made fun of you, or even just Sunwoo, does not mean for even one minute I thought that about you too.” He softened his voice having seen you get so vulnerable on the topic. “Plus you give Hyunjae a pass, why did you go for me? Why did you make fun of me? I still get slander for the way I dress and act to from them-”

“I could ask you why they get a pass? If they’re so mean to you and you don’t think they should be mean to me, then why are you even friends with them?” You laughed in frustration at the boy justifying years of torment to not only you but himself, it simply made no sense.

“Because I don’t know anything else? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He threw up his arms in frustration watching as your lips sealed in silence. “Or the real answer, because I’m too scared to say I got hurt by it? I don’t want to seem fragile or like I can’t take a joke. I’ve known them since when we were kids, they’re still my friends, my day 1’s. That’s the truth.”

Seemingly emotional, he turned around to the wall slightly frustrated he’d let his guard down, however also perhaps in a state of processing the reality of his own actions and feelings. As if he’d had some sort of emotional awakening, as if the cogs finally started turning on why he was so hurt by what you’d said to him. He was hurt by you, because he’d already had his confidence worn down by the same people affecting you.

The both of you began unboxing the items in the storage room in complete silence, not uttering a single word other than a few coughs or mumbles about how much dust was in the room. You began opening a rather dusty box, a large rectangular one attached to a smaller chunkier box. You opened it and let out a quiet “cool” as you found a brand new electric guitar attached to an unopened amp.

“Do we have a power outlet in here?” You turned to Chanhee with an excited smile, he didn’t look up at you but just pointed to a old looking socket on the wall. You plugged in the amp, attaching the connecting wire to the guitar and played a slightly off key chord due to the guitar being untuned.

“Oh my goodness, that’s so loud stop.” Chanhee laughed slightly, a giggle from pure joy, not a sarcastic or mean one, a genuine chuckle. “We don’t have time for this.”

All of a sudden he returned to seriousness, the laughter pausing as quietly you put down the guitar neatly in the corner of the room and unplugged the amp. Clearly it was impossible to clear the air or bitterness with this guy, you may as well give up trying to reconcile at this point.

“I see how it is.” You sighed, lazily continuing the move the plethora of boxes around the room to try at least uncover the floor of the storage room by the end of hour.

Around 10 or so minutes later the bell rang, signalling the end of the day and soon the hallway outside was filled with muffled laughter trapping you both in the musty room until the storm passed. He didn’t say anything to you, asides from slinging his bag over his shoulder and leaving, it felt as if the conversation earlier seemingly had no effect on his feelings of hatred towards you.

Since it was the end of the day, you went to retrieve your headphones from your locker opening it up to a note that read:

“Ur Such An Emo!”

“Real original, ur so funny!” You uttered, crumpling the paper in your fist and letting out a deep sigh before putting your headphones around your neck.

“Didn’t like my note?” Sunwoo asked leaning against his locker with a cocked brow and his arms folded across his black wash denim jacket.

“Not really. I almost forgot how unfunny you were for a second though.” You sighed closing your locker door, only to have your arm gently grabbed back.

“I’m only joking, you do know that, don’t you?” He asked, his condescending smirk saying much otherwise. Despite it being ‘not that deep’ to him of course it was frustrating being the butt of the joke everyday for you.

“Sunwoo shutup for one minute, will you?” Chanhee approached him, pulling his gentle hand from your arm and turning back away from you coldly.

Almost shocked for words, you stood there for a moment before quickly rushing away from the scene down the hallway. Chanhee? Chanhee Choi? Defending you? Perhaps the conversation did have some impact on the way he thought of Sunwoo and his minion clan.

“So about that party, Friday night.” The cheery voice of Hyunjae beside you forced you to take off your headphones on your way out of the gates. “Are you coming?”

“Maybe.” You sighed, clutching your bag on your shoulder with a delayed and airy chuckle.

“That always means no, doesn’t it?” He laughed in response, trying to make eye contact as you only kept your eyes on the pavement ahead.

“Pretty much.” You shrugged, briefly nodding a goodbye to the boy before parting your ways to walk home. The trees hung over the sunny sky in September, leaves drooping, getting ready to decay orange and make the departure from their branches. Birds flying over the neighborhood in crowds, humming the scene a soundtrack as you stepped through your front door home. Crashing into your bed, you huffed wondering why Chanhee had defended you yet still acted as if he hated your guts.

｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ —

Friday soon stumbled upon you, the rest of the week hadn’t been particularly interesting, however Chanhee hadn’t spoken to you since Monday. Everyday the hour at the end of the day that you’d both designated to cleaning the music store room, he remained silent not speaking a word to you everyday, ignoring your questions, jokes and thoughts - only speaking when necessary with the odd “excuse me.” or sometimes even a brief “pass that over.”

Today wasn’t any exception, he strolled in on the last hour without any polite “hello”s or quite frankly any acknowledgment of your presence in the room at all. You’d had enough of trying to entertain yourself with your own thoughts and turned around to the boy with a quick snap. He’d chosen to wear a more toned down outfit than usual that day, straight fitted black jeans with a loose tucked in black t-shirt. In his ears he’d opted for small silver hoops which complimented the thin silver chain around his neck.

“I can’t take it anymore, why’ve you been ignoring me all week?” You huffed out, watching as the boy did nothing but shrug in the most annoying and frustrating fashion. “You don’t know, really? It’s killing me, did I do something to upset you? It can’t be nothing.”

“I’m not sure why I’m ignoring you, I’m actually not.” He sighed, carrying himself within a register that translated words of genuine truth. He finished packing one of the last boxes, placing his palms on the top and beginning to stare into nothing but space.

“Then can you stop?” You laughed walking through to the thin aisle of shelves where you’d been placing organised boxes for the past week. You gently put your last box down, turning and accidentally bumping into Chanhee as you hadn’t noticed he’d moved from his original spot to move his own box.

You caught eye contact with him, forgetting to apologise for bumping into him instead you were lost for words. As you looked into his hazel brown eyes, you couldn’t seem to catch a single coherent thought other than how unreal he looked in the warm lighting above him.

“Can you not? I just nearly dropped my shit.” He rolled his eyes and huffed a huge sigh of frustration forcefully breaking his eye contact with you.

“Jeez I’m sorry, didn’t see you there.” You groaned, returning the eye roll, annoyed he’d began picking arguments with his unpredictable attitude once again.

“If you’re going to apologise try not being rude about it.” He clapped back, you immediately whipped your head back around, slowly walking back up to him and shaking your head in disbelief.

“Shouldn’t you be the one apologising? Didn’t you start the argume-” You began, before you were unexpectedly cut off by him passionately smashing his lips against yours, his hands cupping either side of your face. You couldn’t help but immediately reciprocate the kiss, the shock fading away almost instantly. You pulled away looking at him with a bewildered expression painted across your face, not expecting him to even have that kind of action programmed into his perfect little system.

“Uh, Why? I thought I was ‘such an emo’.” You asked, not being able to contain your laughter as he mirrored your chuckles, a smile plastered on his face as he locked eyes with the ground.

“Well first of all, never tell anyone what I’m about to say or you’re actually dead.” He looked up at you with a pair of sparkly eyes, “I like you? Even though you’re such an emo. I guess.. I have for a while, I always thought your style was really cool and I’m sorry I made fun of you.. I don’t really know why I did it.”

“You’re so awkward quit being so nervous about it.” You laughed as he chewed on his lip trying to hide the nervous grin creeping up. “I guess there’s always second chances, apology accepted.” You teased him, placing a boop on his nose with your finger.

“Thanks.” He spoke softly, his cheeks turning bright pink as you placed a kiss on one side of his face to reassure him. “Uhm, So you coming to that party tonight?”

“Sure I will.” You smiled, grabbing your bag as the last bell of the day sounded. “I guess I like you too, by the way.” You added before quickly escaping through the music storage door, leaving him behind alone, his brain running marathons and his heart beating out of his chest. His phone screen lit up and sending an aggressive bell sound to be muffled thorough the denim of his jean pocket:

y/n: oh and u looked like such an emo today xo

Chanhee laughed, his fingers shaking nervously over his cracked phone screen as he thought of a reply. When he got home he’d continue to text you until the very sunset, when his eyes simply couldn’t stay open any longer. For him, he finally felt accepted for who he was and what he liked — similarly so did you.

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winterchimez · 7 months

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Redemption of Love

SUMMARY: Choi Chanhee—better known as the Phantom of the Opera, has dominated the Paris Opera House with his lifelong partner, Christine Daae, for years. Until one fateful day, an incident forces them to be separated and never to be reunited again.

Decades later, you have begun your journey here at the famous opera house with the help of your fiancé, Lee Sangyeon. After several performances, it was then that you would come face-to-face with the renowned phantom himself, and he is determined to never let you go again, convinced that you were his long-lost partner whom he has not seen in many years.

It is now your choice to make. To give your heart to the once-forgotten phantom? Or to stand firm and marry the love of your life.

PAIRING: phantom of the opera Chanhee x singer f!reader x fiancé Sangyeon

GENRE & WARNINGS: phantom of the opera au, angst, supernatural, thriller, crime, fluff, time travel, reincarnation, major & minor character deaths, otome, pg-13

RELEASE: 01/10/2023

FINISHED: tba

STATUS: ongoing!!

A/N: i am beyond thrilled & excited to finally announce season 2 of old tales, new beginnings!! it makes me so happy to be able to come back to this series after taking a break since the previous one. this time, it's based on phantom of the opera, and what's special about this is that there's 2 members in this particular season aka our beloved SangNew!! hence, i've decided to opt for the otome route, where you get to pick either Chanhee's or Sangyeon's route towards the end of the story. i'm super pumped for this season, and i hope you guys will hop on along the ride with me!!

giving a shoutout to my biggest supporters since day 1, @sungbeam & @cloverdaisies for brainstorming, planning, and helping me so much for this season. no words can ever describe how grateful i am for you both 🥹🫶🏻❤️

send me an ask/comment to join the taglist for the series!!

prologue

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chanhee's route

sangyeon's route

epilogue

chanhee's route

sangyeon's route

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @atinycafe @hanniluvi @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction @heemingyu (join my permanent taglist here!)

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sanaxo-o · 5 months

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Without you (Choi Chanhee)

Warnings: idol!chanhee x reader, established relationship, reader is insecure about herself, comforting, fluff, Chanhee is very caring and understanding >.< , not at all proofread 😭😞

Word count:885

☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️

Laying in your bed you stared up at the ceiling mindlessly, no thoughts in your mind as you did not even try to move your now tired body.

Grabbing your phone from your bedside table you stared at the wallpaper on the Home Screen missing your boyfriend, it was a given when you decided to be in a relationship with a idol.

He had a busy schedule day to day and with the promotions ongoing on he seemed to be rather more drained than before. You did not want to feel like a burden to him, you knew you were not but you could not help but get that uneasy feeling in you from time to time.

As if you were a huge burden and a responsibility to him, you always thought you were annoying and despite the attitude you would give him when you were in a bad mood he would do nothing but be the sweetest person you could ever have. Never did he ever get mad at you for being rude or annoying rather, he would just say that you’re adorable.

Looking at the door in question your ears perked up in curiosity when you heard the front door opening. Guessing it was your boyfriend, Chanhee you got up from your lying position and stood up only to sit back down when you felt everything around you move around.

Trying to stabilise yourself you looked up slowly when you felt the door opening to your shared bedroom and to be met with Chanhee’s happy face which was now filled with concern and worry.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” Chanhee asked the moment he saw you sitting on the bed with discomfort.

“No, I am fine was just feeling a bit tired I guess,” you say with a smile on your face as you stared up at him

“Did you not have your lunch again?” Chanhee asked as if it was a normal question, as if he used that in a everyday conversation. Which he does when it come to you.

“I did eat..” you say softly as you look away from him in middle of the sentence.

“Like what? A bar of chocolate?” He asked in slight annoyance but more worry in his voice. Walking towards you Chanhee sat himself down on the bed beside you as he held your hands in his bigger ones.

“No…,” you whisper softly before you looked at Chanhee briefly “I had an apple…” you say with a nervous grin on your face.

“What?” Chanhee says with a frown upon his face “That’s…that’s it?” He asks rather softly, he did not sound mad like you thought he would be.

“I was not hungry, that’s all” you answer him with your eyes trailed towards the door with a blank stare

“Come with me..” Chanhee said softly before he gripped your hand and made you stand up

Entering the kitchen he made you sit on the kitchen counter before he stood in between your legs and gripped your waist softly while staring into your brown irises with his own gentle ones.

“What do you feel like eating?” He asks softly with a gentle smile on his face. His cheekbones rising up.

“I don’t know..” you say with a small pout on your lips

“Hmm well then let’s see..” he said before he walked towards the cabinets and opened a few of them. “We have noodles..and,” he went towards the fridge before he got out a packet of dumplings “and some spicy chicken dumplings! How do you think about this sweetheart?” Chanhee asks as he looks at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes

“Sounds good. Do you want me to cook? You must be tired..” you ask him softly as he moved forward to get off the counter only to be stopped by Chanhee.

“I will make it. Relax, I want to do this for my beloved..” he said before giving your forehead a kiss. Walking away he started boiling the noodles as he began cooking the dumplings in the steamer.

“Now that the noodles and dumplings are cooking lemme just..” Chanhee trailed off as he walked towards you before slapping the back of your head with his hand softly “Who says it’s a good idea to skip your meals huh?” He says in annoyance and concern “I told you numerous times, never skip your meals no matter how busy you’re or whatever the reason it is. I need you to be healthy sweetheart..” he trails off before softly grabbing your chin in both of his hands “Do you know how worried I got when I saw you sitting in the bedroom like that?” He tells you before a tear falls down from his eyes on your lap.

“I am sorry. I was just…am I a burden?” You ask him quietly

“You? No never. Why would you think like that? Y/N I love taking care of you. If something happens to you I don’t know what I would do..” Chanhee says before gently pulling you in a soft and passionate kiss. Pulling away he chuckled softly “Let’s go the noodles are staring to boil.” He says with a smile as he carassed your head and moved away from you to make the noodles.

☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️

Tagging: @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @kimsohn @mosviqu @o-onikix @zhouyingyue (special tag for @astrae4 because you be the only Chanhee Stan ik-)

#the boyz #tbz #the boyz imagines #Choi Chanhee #tbz chanhee #chanhee tbz #chanhee imagines #chanhee imagine #Chanhee fluff #chanhee x reader #Chanhee #the Boyz imagine #the Boyz Chanhee #the Boyz fluff #the boyz x reader #Chanhee x you #the boyz x you

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ericsprincess · 6 months

Text

take your time and turn off the lights

nc-17, Choi Chanhee/Reader, drunk sex, sexual exploration, fingering

~~~

Your best friend wants some education.

~~~

“Can you please get a move on finally? I’m gonna pee myself,” whines Chanhee, leaning on the wall outside of your apartment, while you’re bent over in front of the door. You’re squeezing the key between your fingers, if only the keyhole stopped dodging. Chanhee is being of no help, well, except the fact that he’s holding your bag and heels in one hand, his bedazzled Hello Kitty vape in the other and has a dumb remark on everything.

You’re both drunk, coming home from your monthly besties night out. It is a years long tradition for you and your best friend - on the first Friday of every month, you both doll up at your place, while sharing a bottle of wine, trying out outfits and putting on makeup. Then you hit up a club, both with no money on you - the objective is to just dance, have fun and let men pay for your drinks. But neither one of you intends to pick up a man to go home with - you can do that any other time, but this is an evening just for the two of you. So you stick together and leave the club together when you’re tired, crashing at either of your places for a sleepover.

Today, you picked a club that’s closer to your place, that’s why you’re currently fighting with the lock on your apartment door. You had a really good night, you danced your shoes off, both with Chanhee and various hot men that caught your attention. Chanhee did the same, and judging by how drunk you both are, you both got plenty of attention (and free drinks) tonight. Maybe even a bit too much - at some point, Chanhee suddenly stopped dancing and dragged you off the dance floor to one of the sofas scattered around it and pulled you to chill down on it. As you were catching your breath from the dancing, you looked up at Chanhee with a question in your eyes.

“There was a guy, I didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he explained. Ohhh. Makes sense. You haven’t noticed anyone, so you were glad Chanhee was looking out for you.

“Wanna make out to make him jealous?” asked Chanhee and you nodded, giggling, since you are always up for mischief like that. Chanhee smiled at you, you closed your eyes and seconds later you were tasting sweet cocktails on his tongue. You spent a lot of time just making out, enjoying the alcohol buzz, loud music and the warmth of another body.

Now you’ve finally managed to open the door to your apartment, almost falling over when the lock unexpectedly clicked. You throw your jacket on the hanger, while Chanhee yells “Dibs on the bathroom!” and immediately runs there. You snort and go to the kitchen to make both of you a cup of tea to sober up a bit.

You bring the cups to your room, while you hear the shower running. Chanhee has been to your place a million times, so he’s here like at home and doesnt need to be treated as a guest. You start taking off your clothes, preparing for your own shower, while sipping on the tea. You take off your makeup and just at the time you hear the shower being turned off.

“I left you some hot water, because I’m that nice,” Chanhee walks out of your bathroom in your fluffiest bathrobe (that’s actually yours, not for guests), drying his hair with a towel. “Also I used your shampoo and it’s really good, so if you are missing the bottle tomorrow, don’t ask me about it.”

He looks up at you and stops in his tracks. “Oh, you’re already undressed.” He looks you up and down. “Nice lingerie. Did you plan to pull? You should have told me,” he asks, but his tone is strange.

“No, I just felt like dressing up,” you reply and hand him his cup. “Here is your tea.”

“Thank you. Do you want to watch something or are we just going to sleep?” he asks.

You take a second to consider the options. You are ok with watching something, but you’re so tired from dancing and alcohol, you will probably drop 5 minutes into the movie. It’s been a long evening.

“Up to you. But I am probably falling asleep very soon,” you laugh.

You leave him in your room and go take a shower. The hot water falling over you is soothing and it makes you want to sleep even more. You quickly wash and dry yourself so you can run to bed.

When you enter your room, Chanhee is already laying in your bed under the covers, scrolling on his phone. You drop your towel, looking for some panties and pyjamas. You’re never shy around your best friend and it’s not the first time you’re naked around him, so you don’t pay it any attention. He’s focused on his phone anyways.

Finally, you find some clothes and get into the bed, poking Chanhee to budge so you can fit next to him, warm and cozy under the covers. You lie down and you feel so comfortable - alcohol buzz pleasantly ebbing off, you’re freshly showered and finally in your bed, even next to another warm body, which always makes you sleep better.

Chanhee puts down his phone on the nightstand, turns to your side, huddles close and hugs you from behind. A bit unusual since he’s not big on cuddling, but you’re not complaining - you would not refuse any additional comfort now.

“Hmmm..you still drunk?” you mumble into his arm.

“Not as much..you?” he asks.

“Less, too… But I’m really sleepy,” you reply, accompanied by a yawn. You fidget a bit to burrow deeper into his arms.

“We had a nice evening, didn’t we?” Chanhee asks, silently. His free hand, the one you’re not lying on with your head, is laid on your waist, petting you gently. He moves it to lightly rub over your belly.

“Hmm..yeah,” you’re not even thinking much over the reply. You really did, as always. It’s not even a question.

“You looked really pretty today,” he continues. “Actually, you always look really pretty. It made me realize a lot of things, lately..”

“Like what?” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Chanhee hesitates. He slowly moves his hand up under your pyjamas, over your naked breasts.

That wakes you up.

“Chanhee?” you ask, confused. You can feel his quickening breath.

“Can I?” he asks, without any explanation. And maybe that’s okay - maybe you don’t need one. Maybe the explanation would not change your answer anyways.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, almost shivering in anticipation. You’re not quite sure what you’re agreeing to, but it’s your best friend and you know you can trust him with anything. If he wants to explore your body, he’s welcome to do so.

Chanhee slowly rubs his hand over your tits, feeling up your hardening nipples with his fingers. He squeezes one of your breasts, then the other and goes back to playing with your nipples, until they are fully hard. He pinches one and it makes you wiggle, since you’re too sensitive, and you put a hand over his to let him know. He understands immediately and lets it go, circling his finger around it in apology.

Letting your breasts go, Chanhee moves his hand higher, running the tips of his fingers along your collarbones. He leans his head a bit forwards and kisses your neck. You sigh in content.

You’re starting to get aroused from the touching, feelings emphasized by the alcohol. Everything feels hot, Chanhee’s body behind you, his hand on your body, even his breath on your neck and you don’t have enough self-control to fight it.

And it seems you’re not alone in this. You shift a little and that makes you bump into his hard cock with your ass so you push against it a bit and he gets the hint and moves closer. He’s not humping you, but you still like feeling his hard cock press against you insistently.

And you also really like to know that he likes it, that just touching your body makes him this hard.

Chanhee, however, ignores his erection and focuses on kissing and sucking hickeys onto your neck, while moving his hand under your pyjamas, touching, groping where he can reach and you’re getting so wet from it, you’re slowly losing your mind. You’re breathing heavily and you’re holding onto his other hand that’s embracing you.

It’s almost torture, but you’re not going to ask him for anything. You want him to go at his own pace and if that means he might not want to do more than what he is doing right now, then you’re okay with that. Even though your panties are completely soaked.

Thankfully, you’re in luck tonight. Chanhee’s hand moves downwards, brushing past your belly. His fingers stop at the waistband of your pyjama pants.

“Can I?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you breathe out impatiently. “Please, touch me..”

“But,” he hesitates. “Y/N… I-I’ve never… I don’t know if it will be any good...”

“It doesn’t matter,” you put your hand over his and push it under your pants and panties. “I’ll help you, if you need it.” you reassure him.

Just the warmth and touch of his hand over your pussy is heavenly. He slowly feels around, pushing two fingers between the lips and finding out how wet you are. Maybe you are imagining it, but you would swear his breath hitches.

He slowly rubs up and down, spreading your slick all over your pussy, making his fingers glide over your skin easily. He quickly finds your clit and gently rubs it, and it feels so good you whine at him to not stop. You’re even moving your hips a little to make it easier for him.

He’s being gentle but firm, rubbing your clit in steady tempo, nothing quick and brutish like other men use to. Your orgasm is slowly building up and you know if he continues, you could come like this.

Inexperienced? Maybe, but definitely attentive.

But before you can actually get too close to coming, Chanhee has other plans. He shifts his hand further, touching around your hole, fingers right at the opening.

“Please,” he breathes out into your neck, where his face is still firmly put, no doubt all red and aroused himself.

You just hum in agreement, too out of it to speak, and he pushes two fingers in and whines. You realize that now his hips are really moving against yours, rubbing his cock on your ass as he’s trying to get at least some relief.

He pulls them out and pushes back in and repeats it few more times, trying to fuck you like that, but the angle is not great in this position and he seems to realize that too. He can’t go too deep nor too fast like that. He lets the idea go and pulls them out definitely to get back to rubbing your clit and you’re almost thanking him.

And now that he’s getting the hang of things, you can tell he’s not playing anymore. He’s rubbing your clit with perfect pressure and good tempo, clearly with the sole aim to get you off.

You’re moving with him, barely realizing it, just giving into the feeling. You’re starting to whimper and moan as you’re getting closer and he quickens the tempo, not wavering even though his hand must be starting to hurt at this point.

When you finally come it hits you like a truck, you’re almost spasming and he has to hold you firmly against himself as he keeps rubbing you. He slows down only when he sees your orgasm is finally ending, not wanting to overstimulate you.

You blink, suddenly getting hit by reality. You would have never expected tonight ending this way, getting fingered and gotten off by your best friend, you think while catching your breath.

But it’s not like you’re complaining, not in the least.

You put your hand behind yourself, on his hard cock leaking through the pyjamas, but he stops you.

“Not now,” he says.

“Tomorrow, if you still want to. When we’re sober.”

“Okay,” you nod and turn back so he can spoon you again. Now it’s a bit awkward, since neither knows what to say and you can feel his boner pressing against your ass. But at least, your tiredness is finally overcoming you, especially after having an orgasm. You yawn again.

“Let’s go to sleep?”

“Okay…Good night Y/N,” he burrows his nose into your hair and holds you tight.

“Good night, Chanhee,” you close your eyes.

A minute passes in silence.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

And then you sleep.

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sugarcherriess · 2 years

Text

Be My Lover

[ Roommate and Bestfriend!Chanhee x Fem!Reader ]

Plot - It’s true that best friends have a different sort of comfort level with each other. So things that may seem inappropriate with others aren’t that strange with your best friend. But what if Chanhee has ulterior motives behind his actions? And what if you don’t mind his increasing forwardness?

Warnings - Perv Chanhee, dom!chanhee, dry humping, panty sniffing, groping, clit stimulation, obsession with cum, cum shower?, fur and silk are recurrent textures, filth with plot.

“Look what I got for you,” Chanhee sings as he nears your bed with a pink bag in his hands. His excited wiggle makes you giggle as your curiosity raises.

Chanhee had gone out to shop in the morning with a very reluctant Changmin– which was justified considering you all had a final project to submit in a few days and had no time to go spend the little money you had. Not even when he begged you to come with because “clothes are super duper important. Even more than science,” he had said, prompting Changmin to roll his eyes and flick his head.

Although you had declined the generous offer, you still got excited with him about the prospect of getting a present without any occasion.

Were you forgetting a special date?

“But Why? It’s not even my birthday anytime soon? Did you ruin something of mine?” You inquire suspiciously.

Chanhee gasps in offense at the accusation and implication that he would only get you anything when it’s required and not whenever he wants to. He takes the heart shaped pillow you had thrown careless to the side and chucks it at your head.

“Excuse you, I can get you things if I want even without some reason!”

You glare at him when the pillow lands on your laptop and check to see if any damage was done. It’d kill you if he broke your shit when you were so close to completing the project you’ve been mulling over for what felt like ages.

“Anyway, stop fussing around your computer you nerd. Open this!” He shoves the bag into your hands and snatches your laptop away to put on your bedside table.

You take your sweet time opening the bag. Whatever he got seems to be wrapped in a thousand sheets because you can’t even see an outline no matter how much you unwrap it.

Chanhee impatiently waits for you to succeed and when you don’t, he snatches the item from you and rips away the covering. Standing up, he poses with the item to show you the entire thing and it makes your eyes pop out of their sockets.

“Ta da!”

“Is... is that lingerie?”

Chanhee? Getting you lingerie? It sounds even more ridiculous said out loud than it does in your head.

“That’s what’s in my hands no?” He quips, putting a hand on his hip.

“Why have you gotten me lingerie?”

It’s beyond your comprehension whether this just seems inappropriate to you because of your quickly blossoming crush on your best friend or its just weird by nature for your dude friend to get you lingerie.

Not even your boyfriend. Your Best friend.

“I was walking to the food court when I saw these at display and I knew I had to get this for you,”

“How do you even know my size?” You can’t help the questions from forming. But Chanhee, like the clever bastard he is, has an answer for each and every query.

“I do your laundry too, okay. I snoop around your stuff more often than you think,” he shrugs.

“What the hell are you-”

“You’ll look so pretty in them I can’t wait!” He cuts you off, bouncing on his heels.

If you had water in your mouth, you’re sure you would’ve spat it all over him.

“Can’t wait? For what?” Bewildered would be an understatement to describe your current status.

“For you to wear it and show me of course!” He replies before throwing the panty and bra set at your head and making his exit.

“I’ll take a shower and we’ll make dinner!” Is called out before he closes your door shut.

When you hear the slam of his own door, you pull down the lingerie set to examine it. It’s a lilac silk set with fur lining the top of the cups and around the waistband. Swiping your fingertips on the material you assess its cloud-like softness. A subtle heat rises at the image of Chanhee watching the set on a mannequin and imagining you wearing it.

The heat deepens when you remember that Chanhee actually confessed to messing about with your dirty laundry and the vulgar scenarios that pop up into your brain have you hiding your face in shame.

You can’t wrap your head around the prospect of Chanhee buying you lingerie unprompted but him standing alone in the laundry room and using your dirty panties to rub his cock to completion somehow sounds completely normal. And totally appealing.

You groan out loud and shove your face in your covers. Now you have to think of an occasion where you can wear these and then also not think of Chanhee… sigh

The next few days are easier on you than you had anticipated. Chanhee doesn’t mention the lingerie or that he’s waiting for the perfect time to make you model them for him, which he is. Your project finishes without any hiccups and you’re all finally free to do as you please.

Which Chanhee takes full advantage of of course.. as one does.

He gets more touchier than usual, you notice. And more bolder than he used to be. His hands that had never even held yours without permission were now sneakier than ever. You’d be walking past him and suddenly have your top pulled up or your bottoms pulled down. He would explain he was just “trying to see if you wore the lingerie today,” but only after a hard glare.

And you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t notice the subtle yet not so subtle head tilts of his whenever you wore a skirt around him. On more than one occasion you had caught him trying to peek up your skirt but yet again, he said it was totally innocent and that he only wanted to see if it was his present that you were wearing.

One particular morning you were making breakfast when he had snuck up behind you. The heart attack aside, you couldn’t miss his hands caressing any exposed skin that was on display even if you wanted to. And if you lightly pushed out your ass to grind against his very obvious bulge then no one is to blame you. You were too busy trying to navigate how to fry his egg whilst he dragged his nose up your neck and rasped against your ear how much he “adores the way you smell.”

And speaking of smells– you don’t know if your mind is playing games with you but you’re a hundred percent sure you walked in on him doing the laundry and sniffing your panties. A black lace pair, which he then pocketed right in front of your own two eyes, was stuck to his nose when you walked in. But his lack of shame or fear of being caught in the act made you feel like your eyes deceived you.

At this point the clues were all in front of you but you were personally trying to gaslight yourself into believing it was all in your head and your best friend was not groping you every chance he got. You couldn’t just blatantly tell him you wanted to fuck him right? That he’s hot as fuck and yes you’ve been friends for years but now his dick is kinda looking like something you need to get pounded by?

What could you possibly even say to him? “Hey dude yeah since the day you got me the lingerie set I’ve been noticing you be extra pervy with me like randomly pulling me onto your lap and subtly making me grind on your thigh and I’m sure at one point I felt you cup my pussy which you said was an accident but there’s no explanation why your hand was there in the first place so I don’t know where to go with this haha love you though.”

You’re out of breath and rambling even thinking about that, how the hell are you supposed to say it to his face?

But you so desperately wanna tell him that last night while he “jokingly” pushed you over the back of the couch and pushed his hard-on between your asscheeks accidentally because he was bent over you to whisper in your ear, you had wanted him to strip you naked and take you then and there.

Alas, he had only burst out laughing and left you draped on the couch speechless and needy. You don’t even remember what he had said, only that he was grabbing onto your hips like he was going to pull you onto his naked cock at any second.

But never mind last night, or any night before. You had gotten back your results for your project and had gotten the highest grade in the class. You were relaxed, in your zone and flourishing.

Until Chanhee had barged into your room holding a bottle of champagne and that frightening glimmer in his eyes that always rang the alarms.

He was up to no good.

“Since we’re both free and winning at life, I propose we celebrate with cheap champagne and making fun of our old photos,” his giggle had you almost giving in and confessing then and there.

He made himself comfortable next to you on your bed, immediately cuddling into your side.

“Don’t you have any better ideas,” you choked up.

Your fingers crossed, you begged the universe to please let this night pan out smoothly.

“C’monnnn, don’t you wanna see the idiots who thought kids stealing their crayons at daycare was the most horrible thing in life and tell them there’s worse things in life than that. Like Changmin thinking calculus in college is better than getting bitches–”

“Leave his bitchless ass alone,” you cut him off, which made him shriek out in a laugh. Next time you see Changmin, you’ll be sure to apologise to him for your disrespect towards his education-oriented life choices and how easy it was for you to agree with Chanhee.

You still resumed scoffing at Chanhee’s enthusiasm. “That won’t be as fun as you’re giving it credit,”

“Who cares,” he turned to you. “We’ll think of something more interesting later,”

His hooded eyes worsened your heartbeat and you had to pinch yourself to not get lightheaded under his gaze.

Your voice broke when you opened your laptop and whispered out an “okay fine,” and Chanhee took a quick sip from his glass before patting your thigh and keeping his hand there. A brief once over at him had you shivering in your seat.

However, multiple glasses of alcohol and thousands of childhood photos of you and Chanhee later, one thing led to another and you two had moved on to taking new pictures of each other to make new memories.

After taking another way too close shot of your face that made your face look like a fish and exposed all your pores, Chanhee laughs so hard that he falls next to you. You’re still looking at the image on his phone when he turns to you and takes it as an opportunity to admire your face.

“You’re gonna burn my face with your laser focus,”

He rolls his eyes at your comment when you return his stare.

“I’m not lasereyes from X-men–”

“His name is Cyclops– I swear one of these days Hyunjae and I are gonna beat your ass for disrespecting our superheroes,” whining, you shove his hands away from your sides as he tries to pull you into a spooning position.

“Wanna make some new memories?”

The sudden change in topics makes you still and whip your head to look at him. The vague proposal could hold many underlying messages and knowing Chanhee, it definitely does.

“What kind of memories?”

Chanhee gets up and pushes himself over you, caging you on the bed.

“Why don’t you wear the pretty lingerie I got you a few days ago and pose for me,” you gulp so harsh it almost turns painful but Chanhee continues, his register lower than before, “In a few years, we can look at those photos instead since you find the old ones boring,”

You don’t have the strength to say much and silently move away from under him. Chanhee’s eyes follow your ass walking away and he sits on the edge of the bed facing your closet.

Taking out his present is a quick process since you never found it in you to properly stash it away. Pulling your shirt up a little, you call out for him to close his eyes. You don’t turn to look whether he’s following instructions or not. Strangely, you’d prefer if he watched.

To say Chanhee’s awestruck when he sees you would be an understatement.

The bra cups your tits perfectly and the fabric and fur attachment makes them look plump and soft. It makes Chanhee’s hands itch besides him. His eyes trail drown to your torso all the way to your panties. His brain immediately starts pestering at him to pull the sides up so he can see the outline of your pussy more clearly. Instead, he beckons you closer with his fingers.

You refuse to look at him when walking your way towards him, twiddling your thumbs and trying not to let self-consciousness force you to run for the hills.

Standing between his spread legs, you wait for a reaction. Chanhee holds your waist to look at you all over, rubbing your sides with his thumbs to alleviate some of your very visible embarrassment. He lets go with one hand, opting to grab you right under your asscheek and pulls you even closer.

“If I ask you to do something,” you finally look into his eyes, legs trying to buckle from his breathy voice, “will you be a good girl and do it for me?”

There’s a small smirk on his face and you’re sure he can feel the goosebumps rising on your skin. You nod your head yes and wait for him again.

Chanhee takes his time voicing his command, letting the suspense marinate while dragging his palms all over your naked legs and waist.

“I want you to rub yourself on my covered cock until you make a wet patch right here,” he completes his sentence by poking at your pussy lips through the silk. The action makes the crotch of your panties pulls the cloth to form the shape of your pussy, just like he wanted.

Nipping at your bottom lip you consider that taking a seat on his lap is the only logical move to make next. Chanhee hisses when, in your effort to get comfortable, you brush against his hidden cock. Throbbing already, your movements are way too slow for him to wait.

He swiftly pulls down his sweatpants all the way to his thighs and grabs the back of yours to slide you against him. Cock pushing between your folds, he drags out a relaxed sigh as the heat of your centre wraps around him. His cock pulses underneath you and he pulls you harder against him. Even through the safety of both of yours underwear’s, Chanhee’s bulge pushes at your clit repeatedly.

You can’t stop the small cries from escaping your mouth at each drag of your cunt against his dick because the sensation of your drenched panties sticking to your folds has your hole clenching in desperation.

Chanhee’s control over your hips never ceases its steady rhythm and continues to make your clit more sensitive as time ticks by. Overcome with desperation you had to shove your hand over your mouth to stop whining like a wounded animal. Your neediness kept swinging out of hand with every swivel of your hips.

Chanhee takes it upon himself to surprise you with suddenly jolts of his pelvis, digging his cock deeper into your split lips in random intervals.

Soon enough, your hips stutter and you hunch over Chanhee, holding his shoulders for support. Your cunt drools enough to form a large wet patch at the crotch of your panties just as Chanhee wanted. He instantly pushes you to stand up again to see the results, carelessly ignoring your trembling legs.

His silent stare makes your hips buck up in anticipation of any further stimulation. You burn up in embarrassment when he suddenly takes to the floor, knees digging into the floor in front of you. No order is given before he pull’s you in and shoves his face between your thighs.

Your thighs open awkwardly besides his head as he sniffs at your crotch. Multiple theories popped up in your mind yet none of them suggested that he was going to lick a stripe up your pussy through your panties. You gasp at the sensation and he moans into your folds, letting you know how good you taste even through a barrier.

He wraps his mouth around your heat and sucks harshly, his saliva adding to the dark patch drenching the cloth. An ironically chaste kiss is placed on your pubic bone as he bids it farewell for the time being.

One quick movement and half a second later, you find yourself shaken out of your daze when he shoves you on the bed. You lay on the mattress spread wide and out of breath.

Tugging off your panties, Chanhee makes his way up your body leaving kisses one after the other starting from the bottom of your torso all the way to your neck. He wraps his fingers tightly around the back of your knees and pulls your legs up to bend them for easy access.

“Hold these here, I want you to feel me in your throat,”

His desire drips from his voice as you nod at him.

“Speak up or i’ll tie you to the bed and leave you desperate,” his threat makes you whimper in shock.

“Yes sir,”

The use of sir is your way of bringing the intensity of the room down a notch. But you don’t miss the way he immediately grinds himself into your exposed centre and shudders out a forced laugh.

“Don’t play with fire,” is the last warning you get before his hard length is digging into your dripping cavern.

He begins his rhythm with slow yet powerful thrusts, choosing strength over speed. Your own response comes naturally as you yelp every time his cock shoves its way into you.

The sloppy sounds only increase in volume as he picks up speed but keeps at the same intensity. You’re certain that you’ve never heard yourself get this wet for anyone. You haven’t even heard these sounds in any porn let alone real life.

Chanhee drops more of his weight on you and shoves his face into your neck to hit deeper inside you. When the tip of his cock reaches your g-spot you cry loud enough to warrant a noise complaint from your neighbours.

His pelvis slaps against your clit in that position and the stimulation from both inside and outside makes you suffocate in pleasure.

The closer Chanhee gets to his release, the harsher he gets in the way he handles your body. Leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck and collarbone, he makes his way to your tits and bites at a nipple. One hand constantly stuck to the side on your neck, he laves his tongue on the nipple to sooth the skin when you shout.

You start losing your senses when his biting starts losing its purpose and gets erratic and messy. As much as you want to run away from his teeth, you keep pushing your chest into his face for more.

With Chanhee wrapped around you, your toes curl and your hands drop your legs when you orgasm for the second time that night, completely delirious and spent. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, heartbeat going haywire while you try and regulate your oxygen intake.

It only takes a few of your overstimulated high pitched moans for Chanhee to pull his dick out of you. He wraps his fist around his cock and rubs tights and quickly to chase his high.

“Chanhee..”

He hums at you when you call him. Bangs stuck to his forehead, his hooded eyes look at you while his own breathing quickens.

“Won’t you paint me with your cum, Chanhee?”

You muster up the question in the most innocent voice you can manage. Sure enough, Chanhee cries out in a broken “ah” and releases all over your torso and your chest. He fists his cock to milk out even the very last droplets of his cum to, indeed, paint you with his cum.

He looks up at you when you giggle at him. The panting makes him hard to focus but when he does, he realises some ropes of cum also managed to land at your face.

“You know,” you begin with hopeful eyes, “It would’ve been nice to get a kiss first,”

Chanhee grabs your legs to drag you down at that and you accidentally moan at the burn your sheets leave on your back.

“I think that’s a girlfriend privilege though,” a raised eyebrows and a quirk of his lips challenges you.

“Then make me your girlfriend. What are you waiting for?” You return his energy.

“If I do then you won’t leave this room without your face dripping in my cum. Are you down with that?” Chanhee’s voice drops a few octaves lower.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A/N - I had so so much fun writing this so I hope you also enjoy! Let me know what you think my friends <3

Taglist - @chewryy @parkhonnie @from-xero @maybeifyoutrieddd @renjun-holic @heednpy

#choi chanhee scenarios #choi chanhee smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #Chanhee smut #chanhee imagines #choi chanhee hard hours #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz one shots #chanhee oneshots

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kikitulips · 13 days

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ꢐ New ꒰ ꒰ the boyz ꒱ ꒱ lockscreens ♡

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biaswreckingfics · 2 years

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76 smut w chanhee?? SORRY FOR SO MANY REQUESTS I LOVE CHANHEE

Chanhee + Suggestive -don't be sorry!! I've enjoyed writing them ❤️❤️-

(Don't tempt me.)

Inch by inch, you slowly drag your skirt up your thighs. You try not to make it too obvious, considering you're surrounded by a crowd of people. Just obvious enough that Chanhee, who is sitting next to you on the couch, will notice. He's been talking to Younghoon for so long that you've become bored.

Another inch creeps up your thigh. Subtly, and in the most casual gesture ever, Chanhee's hand comes to rest on your thigh. His conversation and eye contact with Younghoon never breaks, but based on the tight grip he has on your hand, he's well aware of what you're doing.

You relent for a moment until Chanhee's hand relaxes, then you start the process all over again. Chanhee shoots a glare your way, and you respond with a light smile. The moment someone comes up to Younghoon and distracts him, Chanhee leans toward you.

"What do you think you're doing?"

His lowered voice in your ears causes shivers to cascade down your body. If he thinks this is going to deter you, he's dead. wrong.

"I'm bored," you pout. "Let's go home."

"We'll go home soon, but there are still a few people I want to talk to that aren't here yet."

You lean back against the couch, realizing you're going to be here for a while. Then, you suddenly brighten when an idea comes to mind.

Leaning close to his ear, you murmur, "Let's pass the time in the bathroom then."

His head quickly turns and his eyes find yours. He can try to fight it all he wants, but you can see his pupils dilating the longer he thinks about it.

"Don't tempt me."

"But that's half the fun of being in a relationship," you grin. "I tempt you to do naughty things in inappropriate places."

He fights a smirk and tries to give you a stern glare. "Behave."

He thinks that's the end of it and turns back to face Younghoon, but you speak before he can. "No. I don't think I will."

Chanhee looks back at you in surprise only to find you pulling your skirt up higher. His throat bobs and you let your victorious smile show once you realize you've got him.

He grabs your hand before standing up from the couch and pulling you with him. He mumbles an excuse to Younghoon, who's well aware of what's going on by now, and drags you to the bathroom.

Finding it miraculously empty, he pulls you into the small room and shuts the door. After he flips the lock, he slowly turns to face you and begins stalking toward you.

"You really couldn't wait until we got home?" He starts, backing you up against the wall behind you with each step. "You're so needy that you have to be taken care of right now? In my boss's bathroom, no less."

"It's not my fault you look so sexy dressed up."

He smirks and shakes his head. "I'll give you what you want, but you have to be quiet. If anyone else finds out what's going on, waiting for this party to be over will be the least of your problems."

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rubyblog · 2 years

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ઇଓ ֢ ࣪ ݂ Chanhee Lockscreens ׅ ୨ ׁ

like or reblog.

don't repost please.

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nyubiecore · 11 months

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1201 Jelly ☆ choi chanhee

a the boyz new oneshot

"lots of jealousy and I need love, please hold me tight when I look at you" idol choi chanhee x f! reader

genre: angst(not really) , fluff

in which you find your jealous boyfriend drunk at the after-party

you were scrolling through social media the whole train ride to the mall.

you refreshed the home page of your Instagram when your favorite boy posted a picture. it was a picture of him at the company's rooftop with white outfit on, looking confused.

you smile to yourself admiring him. you misses him so much since you guys last saw each other a month ago.

you opened the comments scrolling through the compliments and good words liking each and every one of them - replying and reporting hate comments.

then you post your comment too "my boyfriend, you look so good" there's a few comments like that except- yours is a fact.

the train ride came to an end

you put your phone in your bag walking to the mall. you beelined to the grocery store on the 2nd floor picking out ingredients for pizza and a few other groceries to restock.

everytime you miss chanhee, pizza is your comfort. it reminds you of him and there's countless times you cry while eating them thinking of him. done for the groceries, you walked pass ice cream parlor and bubble tea stand when you saw olive young , your favorite shop.

you didn't hesitate into stepping in knowing your skincare products were running out. you walked through the face pack section when your eyes darted at mediheal's face masks. you looked over it taking a few of them in means to support sunwoo's brand and also aiming for the pc you'll get when you purchase 10 or more face packs.

satisfied with your finds, you also came over avene, a brand hyunjae is the face of currently. you wanted to grab some but you cancelled the thought when you looked over the price. "maybe next time" you thought to yourself but takes a picture of the rack full of avene products as a reminder and also to upload them on your social media.

grabbing your needs after going through dermatory, mediheal, medicube, dewytree, avene, all the brands the boyz is a model of, you beeline to the counter before you make another stop to any other sections already hearing your wallet cry in broke. getting out of the store after buying it, you busily unlock your phone and went to your deobi Instagram account posting a story out of pictures of products you purchased and took a look at.

you posted individually for each brand and putting captions such as "supporting my babe's brand" etc as a joke on mediheal, avene, dermatory, dewytree, and medicube.

when the clock stroked 7 pm, you quickly woke up from your nap and went to the kitchen. you sorted out ingredients for making pizza and put away others. you immediately started making the dough. halfway with the sauce, your phone that was playing 'Jelly', a kyeobmuda unit song started vibrating like a madman- or madphone. "tbz juyeon" on the screen, you accepted the call in confusion what brought your boyfriend's friend to contact you at 8:30 pm?

"hello? juyeon?" "hi y/n" "hey its been quite long since we last talked" "yeah, i'm sorry we've been crazy busy" "it's okay, what's the occasion though? its not like you to call me first" "nah its nothing, sangyeon hyung just asked me a favor to call you" "yeah? why? did something happened to chanhee?" "yep, you got it right" "w-what happened? is something going on?" "nah nothing big, he just is.. having a breakdown right now" "what?" "yeah.. um just come to the restaurant we always go for after-parties" "wh- what why?" "yeah um.. please hurry up you'll understand what ever's going on right now" "y-yeah i'll be on my way" "sure, thanks !!" juyeon last said before ending the call leaving you dumbfounded whatever is happening to chanhee.

you turned off the fire heating the sauce and wrapped up everything before taking your phone and wallet, locking your door and rush to the restaurant juyeon mentioned. it wasn't far away from your house that you were thankful.

from the restaurant glass window, you saw all the 10 boyz except chanhee and a few staff having drinks, talking and eating the snacks chilling. you step inside the restaurant and search for the table they were at when you made eye contact with hyunjae.

"oh my god thank you" he let out before walking over to you

"what happened? why did juyeon call and what's with chanhee?" you ask all the question to the brown haired boy while walking to the table they were sat on

"well," he stopped on his track upon a boy who were sleeping, head on the table before your brain connected all the dots, too familiar to the lean frame, black hair wearing a saint germain sweatshirt and chanel beanie. it was chanhee "please do us a big favor and take this drunken boy away"

you scanned through the boy quite confused what made him drink so much?

"take him away? as in bring him home? the dorm?" you ask dumbfounded

"nope, certainly anywhere but the dorm" hyunjae replies

"don't you guys have a schedule tommorow?" you were more and more confused since chanhee always tells if they were allowed to go home or are having a break

"nope, we're on a week break starting tommorow so there'll be no one to look after him if you bring him to the dorm" he explains the obvious also weird why you didn't know about it

"oh- sure thanks for telling me" you smile at hyunjae before walking over to chanhee, tapping his back a few times in an attempt to wake him up from his sleep. upon seeing him twitching his eyes open, you made eye contact with him.

"hello master chanhee, i'm your assistant sent to bring you home" you said playfully knowing he wasn't in his right mind. chanhee scans through you then sits back up eyes still on you

"you look like my girlfriend" he says smiling sheepishly sending blushes through your cheek

"oh really? she must be beautiful then" you say patting his back a little earning a quiet "hm" and chanhee closed his eyes back drifting into dream world

you scoffed when you stood back up sitting beside him when changmin scoots over to juyeon's side making space for you

"what even happened? he isn't the type to drink till death?" you asked the members

"i think something happened that you knew better than every one of us" jacob replied calmly

"i mean it did weird me out, he would always ditch the after-party whenever we were allowed to go home but he stayed back and even drank like a fish from the beginning. we didn't even start playing games" changmin says beside you that was supported by nods from the members

you look at him sleeping soundly before standing back up

"thank you for calling me, i'll take him away then" you say before making another attempt to wake chanhee up

"chanhee, wake up. can you stand on your feet? we should go home" you say calmly to the drunk boy

he twitched his eyes open, scanning you and when he looked like he recognized you, he let out a "hmph" scrunching his nose before standing up

you look at him before wrapping your side around his body, trying to support him walk. you wanted to ask him why he didn't tell that he were on holiday and so many other things but you calmed yourself down

you made a stop at the convenience store where you put chanhee to sit on the chair outside the store buying some hangover drinks then picking him back up rushing to your house as you felt your shoulder sore

pressing the code to your house, you rest chanhee on the sofa. turning the lights on, you were met with a now fresher looking chanhee. the walk must've helped a bit. you walk over to his side wrapping your arms over him leaning into him.

"did you go shopping today" he asked- stated?

"yeah.. how'd you know"

"you looked happy buying sunwoo's brand"

"what..?" you asked confused where this is coming from

"i saw your update" then everything connected, he was jealous when you smiled to yourself looking at him who's eyes were anywhere but at you

"omg- is our chanhee jealous? that's why you drank so much and didn't even inform me about your week break?" you teased holding him tighter

"nope, definitely not, i'm perfectly fine when my girlfriend posted my friends brand products with questionable captions, i am perfectly fine sir" he said in a sarcastic tone

"heyy~ still you know you're my favorite member right?"

"yeah sure"

"i mean as a fan i should be equal with my support and.. as your girlfriend, i should get on the good side of your friends too shouldn't i?" you comfort him when you see him starting to allow eye contact with you

"hey but still.. you bought so much of mediheal's products. weren't you aiming for that pc when buying multiple products?"

you kept silent knowing you were caught

"hey- wow that's so mean, you should've just asked me for them instead of throwing away your money like that. what is the use of your idol boyfriend at times like this?"

you look at him in confusion when his attitude changed 90 degrees "its fine, there's no thrill in getting them if I don't work hard for it"

"sure- sure" he says, done with you "did you get them though? i heard it was sold out the 2nd day?"

"yep, i didn't but i guess atleast i got to try the product. i heard its good" you say trying not to make him nag

"-oh right, go wash up. i'll finish making my pizza and we could have our movie night together!" you say tightening the hug

"nope, go call sunwoo to join you, why would i" he says jokingly sulking

you laugh at his turns of attitude cupping his face and sending kisses all over them "nope, only me, the pizza and my boyfriend" when you say tints of pink all over his cheek reminding you of a tomato

"my chanhee is turning into a tomato" you tease him already steadying yourself to run away

"YAH DON'T CALL ME A TOMATO" he chases you all around the house..

-end-

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #the boyz au #tbz #tbz au #chanhee imagines #chanhee fluff #the boyz new #chanhee au #SoundCloud

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from-izzy · 2 months

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that's him, that's just who he is | tbz choi chanhee | new

"At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

PAIRING » tbz choi chanhee (new) x gn!reader (proofread twice—lmk if i made a mistake!) TROPE/AU » friends 2 strangers, highschool au!, non-idol au!, idol au! (chanhee towards the end) GENRE » angsty angst angst, unread messages, comforting friendship, supporting friendship, you both attend the same music academy, you both are preparing to become celebrities/idols! WORD COUNT » 4168 (no seriously, 2k word limit who?) ESTIMATED READING TIME » 15 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » financial difficulties, stress relating to: money, music, balancing friendships-work-school, upwards comparisons, failure at achieving dream job (reader's side), unsupportive teachers

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

my third story! i take it back when i said that the second is my favourite story because this is my new (no pun intended) favourite story. i had to stop multiple times because it hit me too many times 🥹👍

well...the self insert is really real here 🫂 and this got seriously personal (let's see how many times i say this with this series 👀)

big respect to chanhee for balancing his education, preparing to be an idol and having a part time job 🫂 i respect him so much

thank you for reading honey bee ☘️🐝 @sanaxo-o and happiest birthday to you!! this story isn't much of a gift since you've read it before but there is the other one hehe 💕

Unlike most of your other lessons, this one passed by as quickly as a blink of an eye. It might be because the air conditioner in the room was set to the perfect temperature or the way the tie around your collar didn’t suffocate you too much or maybe, it was the way that you were practically showered with a bunch of compliments as soon as you took a deep breath from your diaphragm, lifted your cheekbones and sung your heart out.

Swiftly, you smile at the affirming nods that your teacher gave you, writing down her notes to the three-minute performance that you were assigned to for the last month. Across the whole month, you recall the way the tip of the pen scratches the plastic board vigorously, tapping rapidly and furiously throughout the longest three minutes of your life. Usually, you would be assigned a new song every three weeks or have two songs to practice for five weeks. On the times that you didn’t succeed, it would be a hell lot of criticism, tears and punches on the wall as soon as you exited the small studio. Heck, even with the times when the tears made it out in the room, you could tell that even though she toned down her volume, those eyes looked at you no further than disinterest—sometimes she would unmistakably roll her eyes too.

It has always been in short, sickening.

Those were the times that you wanted to just rip out your vocal cords, swear that you would never sing again, not that you even could at that point, and run away from the one thing that gave you life in your tiring days.

“Pick a song.”

The statement made your head slightly crane forward towards your suddenly easygoing teacher. You let out a confusing hum and question to which she responds with an amused smile.

“I can…choose?”

“You can’t truly be a singer if you don’t know what songs fit you best or if you need someone to pick what songs you should sing. You don’t have to choose a challenging song yet. You’ve been singing for the past half year and you’re good at it, but you really only found your style recently and I would rather you focus on further developing it.” She shrugs leisurely after, “It’s up to you though.”

Either way, I’m still going to get paid.

Numerous song titles juggle in your mind, the different lyrics and tunes playing in your head as the memories of your lives flash through their respective melodies. However, it wasn’t easy for your mouth to announce any of the songs, your mind thinking of all the technicalities within each song that would definitely challenge the fragile, insecure side of you.

But art is a special type of hobby.

It’s one of those hobbies that no one would ever be able to ‘perfect’. Somebody would always criticise and pick it apart ruthlessly—and you would always have to pick up their words and carry them deep within your heart.

“Are you sure?” The way that she tilts her head to the side after writing down your choice says everything.

But you stood your ground.

You’ve been in love with this song for so long and all you wanted to do was to learn it properly. Who knows when you’ll be given the chance to pick again? So, with the bravest smile and the most convincing nod that your shaking body could give, she does her final notes on that worn-out notebook of hers. She also recites your homework and expectations for the next lesson before excusing your presence from the room.

You couldn't wait to scream the excitement out of your body, tell your parents and your best friend about what just happened, analyse the song and its technical aspec—

"I just don't think you'll make it."

You halt your steps and your journey. For such a good music academy, these rooms seriously needed thicker walls. You were genuinely surprised that you were still able to focus on your lessons (most of the time) through all the electric guitar, drum kits and unfortunately, other singers who were unable to hit those certain high notes.

It's times like these that you wish the academy could invest in their building more. You were lucky that your lesson room is located at the end of the hallway meaning that your criticism could only be heard by you, the teacher and maybe the two rooms in front and beside yours.

Chanhee wasn't so fortunate, being at the very front, the first door on the left. It left him vulnerable. The voice cracks, the times when he would go off tune or the rare times when he missed his count. It would all mercilessly be heard by anyone who would pass by just to go to the toilet or refill their empty, cold coffee mug.

You stood next to the wall where the glass doors of the lesson door, biting your bottom lip and you noticed how Chanhee wouldn’t even say anything to his teacher’s words. You could imagine how he had his head hung low, nodding occasionally at the words and was forced to repeat the same line over and over and over again until he got it right. You prayed silently in your heart and mind that time would go quicker for him so that he could walk out, breathe in some fresh air and take a break from the suffocating practice room.

When the door clicks open, Chanhee has that tired, sad smile to you that he gives most of the time. Your eyebrows fell a little but you were still able to give him an encouraging one back.

“No?” You asked even though you very much knew the answer.

“No.” He quietly affirms after a short pause.

“I’m still proud of you though.” Just like any other day at school, after lessons or any other time, you lightly punch his shoulder, him chuckling and shoving you back. “I guess…that’s why they’re called ‘lessons’ after all.”

The realisation of your words made Chanhee groan. Lessons that are made throughout a lifetime—one that he has been attending for a year and a half unlike you who only started at the start of the year. He gave up his time with his friends, time to study which most of society thinks is the best way to secure a well-financed job, and gave up his money to buy clothes for himself that he just walked past whenever he knew he would get tempted. All those part-time jobs, ones that would go late into the still busy nights of Seoul or the ones early in the morning before school when most people would still be snoring, were all done with his dream that someday his voice would be heard by the world.

“How did yours go?”

You know that you should just be truthful. You both have been stuck to the hip for the last few years and Chanhee is not an easy person to deceive. Plus, you need to take into consideration as well of lying at this current moment. You didn’t want Chanhee to think that you were trying to make him feel better by potentially pitying him. What good would that bring to anyone right now in this situation? That’s not what friends do.

“I was given a chance to choose a song.” The small genuine, congratulatory smile that Chanhee gives makes you relax your back into the wall further, the tension easing away from your body. “I also managed to get through that vocal run that I’ve been agonising and crying to you about for the past week.” You slump your body against the wall as you recall your homework, “But she gave me more scales to use as runs for practice.”

“Scales really do suck.” Chanhee whispers to you teasingly, once again getting pushed by you.

“Yeah.” You acknowledge shortly after. “But it does help me with my breathing and flexibility which I highly suck at.”

“Hey,” he scolds your words lightly, “at least you have a distinctive sound and know how to put emotions according to the sound. My teacher just said I sound generic.”

Yes. That description for Chanhee—no, just any singer—is weird and you would dare to say, highly misleading.

If we’re talking about musical terms, every single singer has a unique timbre. Even if the note stays the same, every person will have a different tone colour because well, every person is different. Saying that a singer has a generic voice, highly contradicts the definite concept of instrument timbre.

You know how much this troubled Chanhee even though he tries his best to hide it. The comments about his timbre have been repeated so many times that it’s got to him a lot. In the beginning, he would just smile bitterly and indicate that he wouldn’t want to talk about the lesson, kicking the group of stones on the pathway to release his anger. However, as you both grew closer after an assigned duet performance, he was able to open up to you little by little, slowly but surely, keeping the friendship that grew even after you did your ending bow to the audience. He would still hide a little bit of his feelings to himself, embarrassed that he would talk about himself even though you reassured him that it was completely fine.

To him, how others see him is the most important thing for him. From the compliments that would grow the contagious smile on his face, to the heartbreaking crying scenes that he would hide from the rest of the world, all those words he took to heart so that he could improve himself as a person—and in this case, as an artist. In this harsh world, the words that would be spat out by teachers would be so deeply etched in a person’s heart that all of a sudden, giving up everything that they have worked so hard for would be easier done.

It’s during those times that you and Chanhee would lean on each other, reassuring each other not to run away from the weekly lessons and giving comfort after each one. Chanhee is internally grateful for the times that you would hold his shoulders, lightly shaking his frail, tired body before giving him words of encouragement. He would do a similar thing for you when you feel like you didn’t progress, stopping your self-criticism and pushing you to keep going. To you, he would just let you cry on his shoulder as you hug him tight, patting your back calmingly.

The light snowing season greets the both of you as soon as you exit the building. For you, your next destination is home but for Chanhee, ninety-eight percent of the time it would be his job at the barbeque restaurant, the seafood restaurant or even that new Chinese restaurant that he recently just started.

Given the good results of your lesson, you selfishly wanted to have some fun but the words died down in your throat when you slightly turned your head towards your friend. His black hair still peaked out from the beanie that kept both of his ears warm, the scarf that you gifted him hid the slight downturn of his lips and the physical expression of his heavy heart. His eyelashes fluttered away the snowflakes in the cold but still bright night and his rosy cheeks only grew brighter and more evident the slower the journey to your next destination would take.

“Just a little penguin in his somewhat natural habitat?” Your attempt to get a response out from him is successful when you see his cheekbones rise—the same way that they would rise whenever he sings his heart out.

“What a way to start a conversation.”

Your heart lightens at your successful attempt, linking your right arm with his as you continue to walk down the still-shared path that makes the distance between all your worries and yourself further away. However, like all journeys, you finally arrive at that one spot.

The one that split into two different roads, unlike the one you have been walking a few minutes ago.

The right road would take you both to safety, warmth and relaxation.

The left road would force you to unlink Chanhee’s arm, sending him to the busy, loud civilisation where he would put on his apron and raise the pitch of his voice fit for customer service.

“Are you…off to work?” He senses the sadness lingering in your voice and the way your right hand tightens around his forearm even through the thick, winter clothes.

“…yeah.”

“I see.” You managed to muster a stable response tone. “Come on, I’ll drop you there.” You turn your body towards the crowd but can’t go too far due to the other set of feet that stays grounded on the worn-down, cold stone floor, “Chanhee?”

“Maybe…” Suddenly, the sky starts to sprinkle down its pretty shapes of ice. “I’m just not meant to be a singer.”

You gasp quietly, the faint white exhale slowly disappearing behind the dark background. Seeing the tears finally slide down his cheeks made you realise one thing: he’s opening up. He’s doing the thing that he has tried to hide from everyone. In tune with his emotions, your eyes started to build their layer of moisture, the wind making it harder for you to keep your tears in. You couldn’t think straight, your free arm wiping your eyes to rid the hardships from your face while trying to give Chanhee words of encouragement.

“You’re going to get ther—”

“What if you had to give up so much,” He cut you off, gasping and inhaling more air to accommodate his crying, “earn so much money, gave it away and it didn’t give you good results? Whatever it may be…An event, a trip, an investment.” His voice gradually trails off as he lists life occurrences.

You’ve thought about the same thing thousands of times, back and forth, no matter where, when and who you were with. In a world where pursuing art can be a hard, long path, what would happen if nothing good were to come out of it? All your hard work, all your money, all your time…you’ll never be able to get those back.

Is it worth it? Is it worth the gamble?

“I would probably beat myself over it.” You tried to keep your whimpers at bay as you confessed the same answer that would come back every time you went on your downward spiral, “I would most probably always question why I did what I did. If I did the event with someone, and for some reason, they were the ones that made the situation bad, then I would’ve gone back and forth, asking myself if it was worth it. Why didn’t I go alone? Why was I so scared? What was I so scared of?”

Should you move to a different academy? But your teacher is well known. Should you still do it anyway? Knowing that you had to go through many processes and hardships to even get lessons with this teacher. Even if most of the time, you felt like giving up music, surely her experience would lead you to someplace good…right?

“But then…would answering those questions lead to happiness?” Chanhee scoffs at his absurd thoughts. Tilting his head to the sky, he relishes the way the snowflakes land on his pale skin, disappearing when they touch his skin, the side branches melting into his warmth. “Even after answering the question, would you be able to know what to do next? What would it lead to?”

Even though Chanhee was the first one to cry and break down, your wails were louder the more his words resonated within you, touching the parts of your heart that you never wanted to say out loud, scared of where and how your unconscious mind would take you. With everything in him, he untangles his arms to wrap them around your neck, patting the back of your head as you cry on his shoulder. He also lets his tears soak your scarf, resting his cheek on his arm and his chapped wavering lips rubbing against the delicate wool of your scarf, trying his best to soften his cries.

“I just…” One of his hands pats your back, giving you his comfort—even though he probably needed it more than you, “Music and singing used to be happiness that could fit in my pocket. It felt secure and safe. I could just put on my earphones and I’ll feel happy.” You notice the tighter hold after, “But music grew too fast and too big for me that I couldn’t catch up with it anymore.”

You only nod to his words, knowing how much Chanhee sacrificed to pay for his lessons. Some judged him, calling him stuck up and selfish even though they knew that he was independent in his journey to become a singer. It pains you to hear those words come out as scoffs and laughter and soon enough, you hold his hand and cut ties with them all, leaving their flabbergasted faces behind.

The sky starts to cry with you both beautifully in the form of its unique icy shapes. You both watch the snowflakes disappear on the ground, on each other clothing, on your noses. Finding the strength and breath to continue, you slowly push your body away, wiping the last bit of your tears to face your best friend straight into his eyes.

“You’re going to find happiness that you can rely on, Chanhee.” You couldn’t see his lips but you were sure that it was pouting and shivering, “It may be music or it may be something that music brings you. It may be the stage or maybe people who you will come to work with or maybe the people who will cheer you on but I’m sure you’ll find it soon.”

Even with the bustling environment around you both, there was no way that you could have missed his muttering, especially with the white puff of air, “At this rate…”

He feels the weight and pressure of your palms on both his shoulders but he still looks down to the ground where the snow slowly buries the sides of his shoes, “I promise you that if you keep going, I don’t have a single doubt that you’ll find your style. Regardless of what your crappy teacher says, you’re unique and I love your voice.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Wiping the lone tear on his cheek, “The world is going to be amazed when they hear your voice and I'm sure you'll be a good influence to them.”

For the first time in the day, Chanhee finally smiled. You observe the way his eyes disappear into pretty little upside-down moons. His head tilts back slightly, revealing the upturned corner of his lips behind the scarf that kept him warm and his teeth shine brighter with the help of the light from the marketplace behind you. Your hands were able to finally relax and mirrored the same expression back to your now radiant friend.

“Promise me that we’ll stand on the same stage someday.”

But life plays a twisted fate on you both and loves to put more pressure than you can ever carry. Having to move to a different school and a different region is not on your list of expectations. You argued endlessly about the decision to move, feeling unfair that none of your opinions mattered to them as they relentlessly started to look for moving trucks to hire. With the good offer that your dad received and realising that the youngest in the family had no final say, you tried your best to hold back the tears when telling Chanhee the news.

He cries for you and himself, already imagining the loneliness of walking to the music academy after a long day of school and the drags of his feet across the gravel in the night after each lesson. You assured him that you would call often and unlike you, he promised you the same thing. Time told you both that your friendship was still strong despite the physical distance between you both and with time, so did both your musical skills.

The trade-off for talent in your friendship is the less frequent phone calls and text messages. It was decreasing steadily and slowly until eventually, there was no more red dot beside his name on your phone even though you're sure there would be one beside your name on his. When sadness turned into confusion, then morphed into anger, hate and bitterness whenever someone asked you about him, you still found yourself swiping through your many photos with him. Just like how he cries on your last day, you cry from the silence of him.

Thankfully, time did heal your heart even though you couldn’t find a friend like him ever again. Things have changed for you and you were sure that it was the same for Chanhee. You grew taller, changed your hairstyle, hobbies, dreams and aspirations. What time didn’t seem to change however was the delivered sign that never changed with your messages. You let it go and went on with your life.

When you did come back to Seoul, you realised that the city had changed drastically. You wondered if it’s really that or if you were just struggling to remember the city that you once walked around in every day. But unlike your thoughts, maybe Seoul did change drastically. Amid the new but still bustling environment, there was this one cafe that was incredibly packed. Needing to get away from the cold, you entered to be greeted with a well-decorated interior and the gold ‘Happy Birthday New’ balloon shines brightly, especially with the light that is right above it. Many were posing in front of the gold foil fringe backdrop.

You almost didn’t recognise the boy in the picture. You don’t remember when you took your scarf off and picked up a random framed picture in the frame before picking up another one next to it, and another one, and another one. Each showed his growth. You could tell not only from his appearance but also from the bigger stage that he performed along with ten other boys. Suddenly, it clicks and it all makes sense. Hearing everyone else around you talk about him fondly took away the heavy weight that his name brought and a new feeling overtook your heart.

For the first time in a very long time, seeing his face made you smile and it didn’t hurt.

Your phone slides into your shaking hands, swipe open the camera app from the lock screen and point it at the framed picture in your hand, “At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

You know from the laughter in the space, the feeling of the radiant energy of those around you and the happiness on people’s faces as they point their cameras to their fanmade goods and the interior of the place, that Choi Chanhee has done it. The stage looked extremely good on him, even if the light was too bright and he looked so pale sometimes.

“I’m glad it was you.”

You whisper somewhat solemnly and with a bit of jealousy. Your clenched fist is a puny attempt in trying to keep your tears from expressing the hurt that suddenly hit you as you recall that moment in your life. The multiple rejections to the companies that you auditioned for, the way people on the streets pass by more frequently as their ears and eyes are focused on other’s performances—the night where you listed all your musical instruments for sale and promised that you would never sing ever again.

“You shy, talented, loveable penguin.” And it would seem that his fans agree with the chosen animal with the pouting blue penguin on top of his head. “That’s just who you are, Chanhee.”

Maybe the fame wasn’t for you. Shortly after moving, you found out that the stage was more of a hobby, especially with how you just wanted to stand on stage but never wanted to practise and study music theory properly. You just wanted to shout out the lyrics and sentimentally sing the lyrics of existing songs instead of having your name in an album or next to the credits and royalty rights to the song. But knowing that it fit Chanhee well, it was more than enough for you. He may not have known it before but you wish with all your being that he knows his capability to make others smile, including you.

Even if your broken smile is within millions that he probably would never see from the podium that rightfully held him high.

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