#true hans playlist

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways. 

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it. 

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him. 

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige. 

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter. 

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds. 

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—” 

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.” 

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year. 

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen. 

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia. 

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt. 

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds. 

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds. 

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds. 

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through? 

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.” 

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

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[seospicybin]

THAT SONG.

PART I

Han x reader. (s,f,a)

A chapter of On Tour.

Synopsis: Han forms a rock band with a help from you, his muse who is so cynical of love. (17,4k words)

Author's note: This is for my On Tour enthusiasts. Hope you like it x

Click here for That Song playlist.

It starts to annoy him how the vocalist keep messing up the chords. Instead of focus on playing his guitar and sing the lyrics right, he's busy making eyes with the girls standing in the front.

Han recognized one of them is you, he knows you because he shares a class with you and your writing recently won the university literary contest. But why would a beautiful and smart girl like you making the eyes with such a lousy, ego bigger than his actual skill guy?

Sure, the vocalist has the looks but he wouldn't look that good if he's playing the music himself. He missed the chords and been singing off key on the last two songs, no one noticed but Han.

Han doesn't even know why he agreed to help to fill the bass tonight but at least he'll get free beers tonight as an exchange. He's ordering his second bottle even though his first one is halfway finished. He turns to the side and finds you making your way toward him.

Han knows that it's good to be true if you're coming for him but he turns to the other side finding the incompetent vocalist gesturing you to come up to him. It's so rare for him to intervene with someone's business but Han really needs to stop you from making the wrong choices.

Next thing he knows, he outstretched his hand to stop you from going to the lousy guy, "Wait a minute!"

Your forehead wrinkles in confusion and he completely understands why.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says with a thin smile and quick comes up with an explanation, "it's obvious that he likes to sleep with a lot of girls and you're probably going to wake up with a terrible rash."

You tilt your head and thinly smile at him, "Thanks for the tip."

Han quietly let out a breath of relief, "well, you're a nice girl. You don't want to be with that kind of guy."

You purse your lips then takes a sip, "that's where you're wrong. I'm not a nice girl."

You take a another sip of beer before talking again, "and you're cockblocking your friend right now," you tell him, pointing to the talentless vocalist at the end of the bar counter.

"Friend?" Han asks, offended that you think he's friends with that rockstar wannabe.

"He's not my friend. He's a dick actually and I'm just filling for my friend," he shortly explains and now that he gets rid of Bon Jovi look alike, he can smile again.

You snicker and put your bottled beer down, "You're cute," you tell him.

That gets him flustered, no girl ever told him cute before.

"But you reek of romance and good intentions," you continue.

That gets him baffled because isn't that what girls are looking for?

"As opposed to what..." he leers over to the lousy vocalist.

"He's handsome and emotionally unavailable," you fill his blanks and start walking away from him.

Han can't believe he's lost to the lousy vocalist. As his final effort, he grabs you by your elbow to stop you from going.

"Look, I'm not looking for a nice guy. I don't do boyfriends, I don't date," you bluntly tell him.

"All I hear is don't, don't and... don't," he says in a baffling tone.

"Don't waste my time," you sharply add.

Han is aware that he's overstepping and slowly lets go of you, you're an adult anyway, you can do whatever you want and that includes doing things he doesn't want you to do.

"See you in class then," he says as he returns to his beer.

You turn around on your feet, "we share a class?"

"Creative writing," he replies without looking at you.

"What's your name again?" You ask, even though you haven't asked before.

He looks at you and answers, "Han."

You take that information with a nod then clink your bottle with him, "see you in class, Han!"

Then off you go, doing the things he doesn't want you to do and making it clear to him that a guy like him doesn't stand a chance with a girl like you. - It's inevitable seeing you in campus, especially in the class you share together.

Since you knew his name, you'd wave your hand at the sight of him but it's probably some sort of joke to you to remind him how he flirted with you that night and you rejected him right away.

Han is relentless to change your mind because it annoys him so much that you would rather flirt with someone who doesn't even have an ounce of your worth.

A few weeks later at the same bar, he approaches you after he sees you send a guy away from disagreeing with you on an argument.

"Guess you scare him off," he comments as he takes the seat of the expelled guy.

You scoff in disbelief at him then sips your beer.

"Do you want to get out of here?" He offers, shamelessly taking another shot with you.

You laugh and wipe your upper lip with your thumb, "Didn't I made it pretty clear that I have no interests on going out with you?"

Han calmly looks at you and smiles, "you and I are going to be friends," he casually remarks.

"But I don't want to be friends with you," you shortly reply, not hesitating to reject him again.

Well, Han can only take two rejection in a span of two months, he'll try again a few weeks... or maybe this is a sign for him to give up and raise the white flag. He brings his beer with him and finds somewhere else where he can quietly drinks his beer. He stops caring about your presence the more intoxicated he gets.

To his short luck, Han gets lightheaded and since he's coming to the bar alone with no friend who can assist him home, he stops drinking. He exits the bar and realizes how late it is from how crowded that he has to go through sea of people to find the door.

To sober up a little, he stands outside with the brick wall supporting him, his head is clouded with smoke coming from a group of people smoking next to him. He pulls out his phone to order a taxi when he hears your voice. His head snaps to the door of bar and sees you drunkenly walking to the side of the road, hailing your hand for a taxi.

He's about to help you getting one when a man gets to you first, holding you from behind and opens the taxi door for you.

"I want to go home," you slur your words at him.

He forces you to get inside the taxi, "we're going home, baby."

You refuse to get in and jump out of the taxi, "not with you," you tell him.

"My apartment is close so you're coming with me," he insists, pushing you back into the backseat of the taxi.

You push him away when he's about to get in after you, "No, I don't want to go home with you!"

It starts to cause a scene outside the bar and it doesn't take a genius to know that this guy is going to take advantage of you.

Han shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and comes to take you away from him.

"She said she doesn't want to go with you," Han tells him right at his face, holding you steady with his hands on your shoulders.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man curses at him.

"I'm her friend!" He shortly replies despite he knows he got rejected to be your friend a few hours ago.

The man grabs you back from him and forces you to enter the taxi, "stay the fuck out of my business!"

Han shoves him back and he pulls you along with him as he's staggering to the back, sending you stumbling down the pavement.

"Ouch!" You wince in pain.

Han hurriedly helps you getting up and helps you get into the taxi.

"Stay away from you, you fucking prick!" Han warns him before getting into the taxi.

You whine in pain next to him, holding your scraped knee with your hand and lolling your head to the side, eventually resting your head on his shoulder.

"Where do you live?" Han asks, feeling bad if he has to grope you around to find for your ID or phone.

"I don't want to go home," you mumble to him.

You nuzzle your head into his neck and mumble again, "let come home with you."

Han has no other option but to take you to his messy apartment. Thankfully, you're too intoxicated to notice the piling dirty laundry or the pizza box he hasn't thrown out since last night. You run to the bathroom the second he unlocked the door and he uses the opportunity to tidy up his place, or more like, hiding the mess out of the plain sight.

He quickly grabs a clean towel from the dryer then knock on the bathroom door to give it to you. He hears the flushing sound then you open the door not long after.

"A clean towel," he offers.

You take it from him through the crack of the door and follow him outside.

"Can I borrow your clothes?" You suddenly ask.

It's like you speak a different language that he takes a moment for him to process such simple words, "my clothes?"

You meekly show him your clothes damp with drops of water, "I can't sleep in this."

"Clothes," he says with a blank expression and it takes him another moment to finally get to his closet, finding any proper clothes for you to wear.

He picks the most decent piece of clothing he has and he remembers his parents gifted him a pajama set, it's the perfect time to put it to use.

"Here," he accidentally startles you as you scan his records collection.

You take the folded clothes from him and not hesitate to take your clothes off on the spot. Han immediately turns his back at you to give you privacy even though he can clearly see you changing clothes from the reflection of the TV screen.

"Can I have a glass of water?" You ask.

"Sure," he dashes to the kitchenette and pours a glass of water which reminds him to grab the first-aid kit from the drawer.

"Thank you," you mutter as you take the glass of water from him.

"Can you please sit down?" He kindly asks.

The options are the bed or the worn-out couch filled with his books. You walk over to the bed and sits at the end of it. He squats down on the floor and looks up at you, "Do you mind if I take a look at your knee?"

You shake your head while holding the glass of water with both hands on your lap. He rolls up the obviously a size too big pajama pants and takes a closer look at your scraped knee. It doesn't look bad once he cleaned.

It's probably the alcohol that hasn't fully left your systems yet that makes you numb to the stings of alcohol pads make contact with your wounded knee. Next, Han dabs antibiotic ointment on the wound with a cotton bud and apply a bandage to finish.

"Thank you," you mutter again.

Wow! It's the first time he heard so many thank you in one night and it's coming from the person he didn't expect to hear it from.

"You can rest now," he says, gesturing you to sleep on the bed.

"And where are you going to sleep?" You ask.

"I can sleep..." his eyes drift to the messy couch and silently sigh, "I can sleep anywhere."

"Please, share the bed with me," you plead with eyes that shine for him as he stands towering you.

"Okay," he agrees but he promised himself to leave the bed once you're asleep.

The night is getting late and he can't lie that he needs to lie down after an eventful night. He is late to claim his side of the bed as you already lie there, getting yourself under the cover.

"What are you listening to?" You ask, looking at the record player on the bedside table.

Han puts it there because he likes to lay on the bed and stares at the ceiling while listening to music. Unfortunately, he happens to forget what record he was playing the last time. He peers over to your side of the bed, one glance at the record and he knows what it is.

"Uhm... Sonic Youth," he answers.

You turn the record player on and slowly put the needle on it, music starts to fill the space with riffs of one of his favorite songs.

"Spinning dreams with angel wings. Torn blue jeans and a foolish grin," Kim Gordon opens the song with her sleepy, crooning voice.

You get comfortable on the bed and turn to the side, seeing him still standing at the side of the bed.

"Come, lay down with me," you say, patting the space next to you.

It's so stupid of him that he forgot to take off his jacket, he gets ride of it before climbing onto the bed and awkwardly slouches down the bed.

He knows you're looking at him as Kim Gordon repeatedly singing, "Star power, star power, star power..."

You take a deep breathe and put a hand under your head, "Maybe I really should stop dating handsome, emotionally unavailable men," you draw conclusions out of nowhere.

Han only nods in agreement even though he can't focus knowing that he's under the same cover with you.

"Maybe we should go on a date," you come with another shocking statement.

This time, he doesn't nod even though he wanted to.

You softly sigh again and gets up from the bed to lean close to his side, "I think you'll be good to me."

He dares himself to look at you and catches you softly smiling at him. Your eyes locked in a gaze that feels more intimate than a kiss.

You slightly tilt your head to the side then press a gentle kiss on his cheek, "Goodnight!"

You settle back on the bed and close your eyes with a smile that slowly fades from your face as you slowly drift to sleep.

Han reaches for his heating cheek and touches the searing kiss you left on it, foolishly holding the back of his hand to it like it would help him reeling from the kiss. However, he can replay the moment in his head and close his eyes to make it vivid.

The song that is still playing becomes distant but he can faintly hears Kim Gordon softly sings, "Close my eyes and think of you. Everything turns black to blue." - It's like someone has just pulled him out of the water, Han wakes up from his sleep gasping for air. He expects to see it's still night and you're still on the bed sleeping next to him. Panic, he gets up at once and looks around his studio apartment with sunlight filling and brightens the place.

"Morning," you greet from the couch with a bowl on one hand.

The mess of your hair looking like a halo on the top of your head and you warmly smile as your eyes locked in a gaze with him, emitting the same warmth of the morning sun at him.

"I hope you don't mind I'm eating your cereal," you say.

Disoriented, he scratches the back of his head and unsure what to do first because he's usually will fall back to sleep, especially when he has no morning class like today.

"I–I'll just..." he barely finishes his sentence and breaks into a run to the bathroom.

Last night, he made a plan to impress you. He planned on getting up early so he can buy some nice breakfast to eat together with you. He plans on having some fresh baked goods and hot coffee with you, not his cereal and milk from his empty fridge.

"Oh, why did I fall asleep?" He asks himself and reaches for his toothbrush to, at least, make himself look presentable in front of you.

He changes into a clean t-shirt he picked up from the washing machine and walks to the kitchenette, "Coffee?" He feels stupid for asking when he can clearly you have put the coffee pot on.

"Yes, please?" You sweetly answer to him.

He fills two mugs with steaming hot coffee and brings them to the couch, he wince seeing the cluttering mess on his table that he has to put some stuff to the side to make room for the mugs of coffee.

You're busy chewing on your cereal to notice it and he peers over to see you're reading his notebook.

"Oh—" he stops himself from snatching it away from you.

You notice that he's looking at it and quickly flip shut, then put it one the top of stack, "I'm sorry but it's laying around on the table so... I didn't mean to read your journal," you apologize.

He bites his lower lip, not expecting you to read his journal filled with his writings in there. It's worse than letting you walk around his messy apartment but he can't blame you when he should have kept it somewhere safe.

"I'm sorry," you apologize again.

"It's okay," he says with a smile to convince you that it's okay for you to read the song lyrics he wrote about personal things.

"How come you never submitted your works for the literary contest?"

Han lifts his mug and watches the curls of steam from his coffee, "I don't I can compete with you."

You put your legs up and hug them in front of you, "but your writing is beautiful."

"They're not... they're lyrics," he says.

"Oh?" You lowly gasp, "so you write songs?"

"Kind of," he answers and carefully sips his coffee.

"Have you performed any of these songs?"

Han shakes his head to strongly deny, "I like writing them but not performing them."

"Why not?"

"Because I..." his word trails off once he realizes that you're getting too personal with him but it's too late to stop now.

"I don't think they're good," he concludes.

You take your mug of coffee and hold it with both hands, "Well, I never thought any of my writings are good," you share.

"But they are good," Han points out the obvious since your writings always won the literary contest for two years in a row.

"So you read them," you say with a satisfied smile.

Again, he's too late to back out now, "who doesn't?"

You take a small sip of your coffee then ask, "What do you think?"

His mug stops midair as he's about to sip his coffee, "they're good, great..."

The sound of the phone ringing from somewhere across the room interrupts the talk, after a few seconds you recognize that it's yours and it's ringing inside your purse.

"I'm sorry," you excuse yourself to get it.

Han silently drinks his coffee and catches glimpes of your conversation on the phone, it's safe to say that you need to go after hanging up the call.

"Sorry, but I have to go," you say just as he expected.

Han tidies up the place as much as he can while you're changing your clothes in the bathroom, your phone rings again as he puts records piling on his bedside table back to the shelf. He didn't mean to look but your phone is right there, lying on the bed and he can see the caller.

Alex, it's a very masculine sounded name. He doesn't want to assume anything and stops thinking about it as he hears the bathroom door swings open.

"Thank you for letting me crashing in your place," you return the clothes your borrowed from him.

"No problem at all," he sheepishly says.

You check your phone and shove it inside your purse after, "Thank you for this as well," you show him your bandaged knee at him.

"It's nothing really," he says.

It's been a long time that Han has someone over his place, especially of the opposite sex. He's been out of the dating pool for much longer than that, he doesn't know the code anymore, what he should do next?

He decides to keep himself busy as you collect your things from around the room. Han is putting the dirty dishes on the sink when you speak to him from the foyer.

"I'm free this Friday."

He turns around to see you standing with one hand against the wall and the other is strapping your shoes in place, "huh?"

"I'm free this Friday," you repeated.

He's not deaf but what he doesn't get is the meaning of those words. Does it mean you want him to take you on a date? Or you set the date for both of you? Or you want to casually hang out with him? Or you need his help again at the bar?

In other words, he's stupid when it comes to social cues.

"You want me to... uh—"

"Friday at eight?" You say.

Oh, okay, that means you want to go on a date. He stifles a nod, "sure, yeah."

"Okay," you smile seeing him being awkward.

Han may have wanted to take you on a date but you're so smart, so composed, so confident, you're everything he's not and it's impossible for him not to feel the slightest bit intimidated. He doesn't know how to impress you, he only has himself and it's not enough.

"Can you stay sober until then?" He blurts out.

You crack a crisp laugh that echoes in his studio apartment, "I'll try," you vaguely answer.

The initial thought is he wants you to stay away from drinking except when he's there with you but you took it that he was being playful with you. Well, either way, he's glad that he can make you laugh.

"I'll see you again," you say with a bright smile.

"See you again," He says back.

And Han hangs on to those words, to the promise that he can see your smile again.

-

It's eight minutes past 8 pm on Friday night.

It's past the appointed time for the date but there no sight of you yet. A few minutes shouldn't be considered late, you must be on the way here and things happen, you may forget something after getting out of the door or traffic or... there's just so many reasons why you—

Han feels a tap on his shoulder which makes him turns on his feet.

"Hey, have you been waiting long?"

He is not ready to see you, not when he's almost think that you'll ditch both him and the date. But here you are, looking at him with a smile that gradually fades into a confused one.

"Are you okay?"

He snaps himself out of it and clears his throat, "No, I'm just—" he forgot the question you asked him and try again, "I mean I'm okay."

You look up at the sign of the place he takes you for the date, "I've never been here," you comment.

Doesn't know what to do with his hands, he shoves them into the pockets of his jacket.

"Me too," he casually says.

"Huh?" You blink your eyes at him, confounded.

-

Consider both of you lucky that there's still one more table available, it's Friday night so it's no surprise that it's crowded with people. Upbeat music is playing in the big hall filled with rows of ping-pong tables mixed with the sounds of the ping-pong balls hits either the players' paddle or the tables.

You shake the jacket off your shoulder once you get to the assigned table, "I don't know how to play table tennis," you admit right away to prepare him that an accident or two is imminent.

"Me too," he innocently answers from the end of the table as he takes a paddle.

That explains why he never been here but still, why would he takes you here if he can't play?

"You're not serious, right?" You place your jacket on the empty bench on the side of the table.

"I'm serious," he says as he takes his jacket off.

You burst into laughter but he's just so clueless on why you're laughing.

"Most men would use this chance to show off that they're good at something but you..." you shrug and choose a paddle to use.

Han takes a ball from a box and bounces it on the table, "Well... I am not most men," he coyly says.

Not going to lie, that's so attractive of him, especially with strands of his curly hair falling over his face.

"Okay," you nod in acknowledgment.

You take your position on your side of the table, warming up your hands by opening and closing your hands before wrapping your hand around the handle of the paddle.

"Your serve," you give him the permission to start the game.

Han also takes his stance and throws the ball straight upward, he supposedly hits the ball when it's still hung in the air with the paddle but instead of that, his paddle flung across the table and caught by the net.

There's a dead air hanging between you and him as you both stare at his paddle stranded in the middle of the table. You look away to not embarrassed him more and see everyone is having a bottle of beer on their table.

You turn to look at him and ask, "beer?"

"Yep!" He shortly replies.

After two bottles of beers drained and a lot more failed attempts at serving the balls, you get the hang of it even though it's not to the level of what a proper ping-pong should be played.

"Another round?" You ask.

He doesn't wait but calls to order more drinks, "More beers, please!"

At the second round, your neck is moist with sweat and you can feel beads of sweat forming on your back, you plop down on the bench in exhaustion. Han gulps his bottle of water next to you, "another round?"

"I'm on a roll, sure!" You eagerly accept the offer.

"Loser have to pay for dinner?" He dares you with a lopsided grin.

It's a fair game since you're both terrible at it, you have nothing to lose except for your self-esteem. You offer your hand for a handshake at him, "deal!'

He takes your hand and firmly shakes it, "deal!"

The game is getting intense, you have your hair tied in a messy ponytail while Han has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow. Under the fluorescent lights you can see the evident veins coiling his arms, got you distracted more than once.

It's a tie, there's only one point needed to determine the winner. It's his serve so you prepare yourself to receive it even though your hand starts shaking.

"Don't go crying when you're lost," he teases you, bouncing the ball against the table with his hand.

"No problem. I look prettier when I cry," you shot back at him with a nonchalant shrug and a smile.

Han catches you off guard and shot a topspin serve. Fortunately, you reflex is still good despite your body is close to giving up, you shoot the ball back to him as hard as you can. He's heading to the right side to get it but too late to catch the ball right on time, it goes past him, bouncing to the wall on the back.

"Yes!" You jump on your feet to celebrate.

While Han just stands there and gives you an applause with a defeated look on his face.

"I WANT BURGERS!" You enthusiastically shout at him loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Okay, okay," he quickly responds and gestures you to calm down.

Since he's the one paying for dinner, you feel bad to order a lot of food so you take him for coffee and dessert after as a way to pay back for dinner, also because you're still hungry.

He lifts his cup of iced americano to make a toast, "To celebrate that we're no longer beginners on table tennis!"

Your hands are shaking when you lift your cup of cappuccino and he notices too, sending you both into laughters. You use both hands to lift it and carefully clink your drinks together to not slosh the content, "that was a good game," you comment.

"It was!" He agrees and drinks his coffee with a straw.

You share two slices of cakes together, he chose a cheesecake while yours is tiramisu, digging at it with forks and eating it between talks.

"Are you working on a writing at the moment?" He asks.

You wash down the spoonful of cake with coffee before answering,

"Kind of..." you vaguely answer.

"Is it for the upcoming literary contest?" He asks.

"I'm working on a lot of things at once," you share with a dry laugh.

Han nods and shoves a piece of cake into his small mouth. His cheeks are round and full when he's eating, you find them really adorable.

He catches you watching him eat and you hurriedly look away, "so..."

You remember the unanswered question on the last conversation you had with him at his place, you've been wondering what his true answer is.

"What do you think of my writings?"

"They're great. I like your choice of metaphors and yeah, they're great," he answers with mouth stuffed with food.

You sense that there's more than just great. You slightly tilt your head to the side and look at him, "But...?"

He stops chewing as you ask him that like he got caught lying. Maybe he is lying but with a good intention.

"You can be honest with me," you assure him while cutting a small piece of the cheesecake.

He sips his coffee to empty his mouth from food and properly answers to you, "There's nothing wrong with your writings," he begins.

He sits up straighter and looks at you, "it's just that... I get this impression that you're a bit... cynical?"

You lowly laugh and say, "wrong!"

You chew on the cake and stack your hands together on the table, "Not a little. I am cynical," you correct him.

Han licks his lips and presses them together into a thin line, perhaps feeling bad for analyzing your personality through your writings.

That only proves that he's not only reading for the sake of entertainment but he truly reads things between the lines. In that moment, you feel so bare and vulnerable in front of him.

"I witnessed two people falling out of love, breaking and tear each other apart until there's nothing left of them," you candidly share and put your hand around the coffee cup to absorb the warmth.

"Why would I want the same? I've seen enough for like... the last fifteen years of my existence so no, thank you, not interested," You conclude with a sad smile.

Han meekly nods as he sips the last of his coffee in silence. It's unclear why you decide to share personal things with him but deep down you know it's because he's not going to laugh at your pain.

-

With no sight of stars and the moon in the night sky, it only means that there are big dark clouds and it's going to rain soon. Han insists on walking you to your apartment even though he has to walk back to the bus stop to go home.

Notice that you're only a block away, you don't want this night to end with the tragic story you shared about your parent's divorce.

"I had a fun date," you comment.

Han smiles and he has the kind of smile that shines from the inside, there's nothing fake about it.

"It was a fun date," he says.

"I never had a date this nice before," you add to show him that you're not being phony.

"Me too," he responds.

He said those two words three times so far and you begin to wonder if you're actually suck at dates. You always skip this part and go straight to the sexual stuff, maybe that's why.

Once you both arrive at the entrance of your apartment building, you turn around and without thinking you ask, "Want to go upstairs?"

With another man, you wouldn't fuss much whether they want to come with you or not but with him, you have this force inside you to not screw this up. You look at him and can't tell if he's nervous, or surprised, or horrified. He's just standing with his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets even though the weather is pleasant.

"We don't have to do anything," you quickly mutter and immediately regret it because what if he wants to do something?

As always, honesty is the best policy. Well, that depends on how embarrassing the truth is. This one is still bearable, so you say, "I still want to talk to you."

The streetlight shines down on him, filling his brown eyes with dark glints and enthralling you to stare.

He nods and follows you inside. You feel awkward leading him to your floor, climbing the flight of stairs in silence but the echoes of your footsteps on the steps.

"Here I am," you stop in front of the door to your unit.

You rummage inside your purse for your key and push the door once you unlock it. The second you hear the song playing inside, you hurriedly close it again.

"What?" He asks you in a mix of panic and curiosity.

"Alex is listening to Sza," you answer.

"Alex?"

You forget that he doesn't know the context, you lock the door again and stand blocking him as if he would dare to barge inside.

"Alex is my roommate and she puts on Sza when she's having a guy over as some sort of code," you concisely explain.

"Ah..." he sighs in relief.

Is he relieved because he doesn't have to come inside or relieved because he doesn't want to talk to you? Is he— you never let your negative thoughts win so you find the alternative.

"How about your place?" You ask with a sly smile.

He considers it for a moment then says, "We should run then."

"Run? Why?"

"The last bus is in fifteen minutes," he simply answers.

"Oh?"

-

The two of you are drenched from running from the bus stop to his apartment in the rain, he lets you use the bathroom first to change while he prepares clothes you can borrow from him.

Han puts it on the end of the bed and you can comfortably change as he takes his turn to use the bathroom. You seem to have found comfort in his apartment which is a lot tidier after he realizes that someone could visit him uninvited.

Candidly speaking, the only person he thinks would come visit him is you.

You pull out a record from the shelf and put it on the record player, the music drowning out the sound of raindrops pattering against the window glass. As if it's your own bed, you sit with your back resting against the headboard, covering your legs with the duvet.

"Why are you standing there?" You ask him.

He towels dry his hair quickly before doing what you ordered him, sitting next to you on the bed.

"It's not like we haven't shared a bed before," you add and get comfortable by putting a pillow behind your back.

Whether it's the proximity or because he has run through the rain that makes him feel snug and warm all of a sudden, the raindrops pattering against the window supports this comforting atmosphere.

"How long have you been collecting?" You gesture to his shelf full of records.

It must be a headache to find a certain record because he doesn't organize them but you refrain from telling him.

"Some are my father's, I brought them with me when I moved out of the house and I started collecting two years ago," his fingers are playing with the lint on his sweatpants as he's speaking.

"You own some rare ones?" You ask in a curiosity.

"I have The Beatles White Album with printing number 0000523," he answers with a proud smile.

"Wow!" You exclaim in awe, you're familiar with the knowledge that the value of the album can go up significantly if it has a low printing number and he owns one.

"Just know that if I lost it, I'd know that you did it," he jokes.

"Dang! I was planning the whole robbery thing in my head," you joke back.

The rain has turned into drizzle and it gets quiet in the room, but the kind that makes him not feel pressured to fill it, a comfortable kind.

"What's your favorite song?" You ask out of the blue.

He hisses because it's like you're asking who is his favorite child. Not that he has any but he knows the dilemma.

"Don't think!" You tell him.

"Just one that pops on the top of your head," you offer an easy way to pick one.

There's this one song that automatically plays inside his head when he looks at you. It's one that he's unconsciously humming when he's in the shower, tying his shoes, or pouring himself a cup of coffee in the morning.

Not sure if you can catch the reference, he calmly answers, "Lovely Day by Bill Withers."

You nod in acknowledgment and smile, "That's a nice one!"

He turns to look at you, "and you?"

"Off You by The Breeders," you shortly reply as if you have waited a long time for this question.

Except that Han never heard of the song or the band. He feels bad for not knowing and you catch on it right away.

"You never heard of it?"

Han sheepishly shakes his head.

"You're lucky that I still have my Spotify premium," you playfully say and pick up your phone to play the song for him.

You set the volume to the highest setting then put your phone between you and him on the bed, listening to the intro of the song of low, minimal bass and guitar. The song somehow fits the moment, the singer sings like she's telling a story or a poem.

"I am the autumn in the scarlet. I am the make-up on your eyes."

That's such interesting lyrics and Han intently keeps listening to know why this is your favorite song. One thing he knows is this is one of the songs he can listen to while lying and staring at the ceiling.

"I've never seen a starlet or a riot or the violence of you."

He hears you sigh next to him and he looks to the side to see that you're crying, he knows it for sure as the tears on your cheeks reflect the lights at him. He leans and checks to see if you're okay, he puts your hair away and then tucks it behind your ear.

"Are you okay?"

You look at him with your eyes glassy and filled with sadness, "I don't want to get hurt," you croak

It must be scary for you to open up to someone when you've seen the worst thing love can do to a person. He understands the fear well because he has the same heart that lies and beats inside his chest.

It's vulnerable yeah but we are never fully broken to the point that we're irreparable.

However, Han doesn't intend to break it, he wants to embrace it, nurture it, and protect it with all of his might.

He cups your jaw with his thumb and gently wipes your wet cheek, "I'm not going to hurt you," he says with a soft smile.

More tears roll down your cheeks as you close your eyes, it's a heartbreaking sight to see.

To prove his words, he holds your face and leans in to kiss you, pouring all of his heart's content that strangely only expands in size the longer he kisses you.

Han lets go of the kiss yet holds a tender gaze with you, "I'm not going to hurt you," he reassures.

You hold the hand holding your face and softly smile at him, a smile that tells him that you've decided to trust his words.

For that, Han slowly sails into your heart and strands himself on the island inside your chest.

You rest your head on his shoulder as he puts his arm around your shoulder, welcoming you into his warm embrace. Both of you stay like that while listening to the rest of the song which encased you both in a bittersweet moment.

"I land to sail... Island sail. Yeah, we're movin'... Yeah, we're movin'..."

-

This is what he means when he says Lovely Day automatically plays in the back of his head when he looks at you.

Han has been watching you sleep for a few minutes now, leaning against the desk with arms crossed in his chest and he can vividly hear Bill Withers singing inside his head.

"Just one look at you and I know it's gonna be a lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day."

You're pretty when you cry but even prettier when you sleep with a hand under your head, so still and so quiet, looking like an angel lost in her dream.

"Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day," the song is playing in his head on a loop.

The sun is rising and he doesn't want you to wake up yet for he wants to stare at your face longer. The sight of the baked goods he bought from the bakery across the street is disagreeing with him, it was still hot when he bought it and it's more likely to get cold if you don't wake up soon.

Then again, how can he disrupt an angel who's peacefully sleeping and away from the harm of the world?

Well, the sound of your phone ringing can.

A crease forms between your eyebrows as you force yourself awake from slumber. The song playing in his head abruptly stops and it reminds him to stop watching you. Han gets away from the bed and pretends to be busy in the kitchenette. In his peripheral, he can see your hand groping around the bedside table for your phone and check it.

"Morning!" You sleepily greet from the bed.

He plays it cool and turns to see you, "Morning!" He says back.

"Coffee?" He asks with a clean mug in his hand.

"Yes, please?" You say with a delicate smile that soothes him like a morning dew.

"Can I stay on the bed?" You ask with a shy laugh.

"Yeah, sure," he replies, looking at you wrapped in a blanket.

Han brings your mug of coffee first and makes another trip to bring his and the bag of bakery on the other hand.

"What do we have?" You're eyeing the bag, not daring to look into it yourself.

"Breakfast," he casually says and opens it for you, the buttery smell of freshly baked goods wafting around the room.

You start with a sip of coffee then dig inside the paper bag to grab a piece, tearing at it and eating it piece by piece.

You get interrupted by your phone dings with a new message.

"Your roommate?" He wildly guesses.

"Yeah, she wants me to come home quick," you answer, "she needs the intervention."

"Huh?"

"That means she doesn't like the guy she's having over in our place and wants me to intervene, you know, an excuse to get him out of the house," you explain then lick the powdered sugar on your finger.

"I see," he says even though he wants you to stay a little longer.

Just like you heard his thought, you quickly add, "Not that I don't want to stay. She did it for me like two months ago so I kind of owe her one."

He sips his coffee and assures you, "It's alright."

You rummage inside the paper bag to get another piece and without looking at him, you ask, "I have something to ask you."

He suddenly turns rigid at the men of something to ask because it sounds intriguing, scary, and exciting at the same time.

"Yes," he grips the handle of the mug a little too hard.

You bite into the bread with a custard filling and gets on your upper lip. In reflex, he wipes it for you with his thumb and you giggle once you notice the mess around your mouth.

"And the question?" He asks, genuinely curious about what you're about to ask him before the custard gets in the way.

"Oh, yeah, uhm..." you drink your coffee and hold it with both hands on your lap, "Is it too early if I ask you on a second date now?"

That, he didn't expect to hear at all but it makes him feel the same way, intrigued, scared, and excited, it's a mixed feelings.

"No," he honestly answers with a shy smile. He's never been with a girl who's this bold and so upfront like you, he likes it though, it makes things easier for him.

"How about tonight?" You ask with hopeful eyes and even a hopeful smile.

When you asked if it's too early he didn't know it would be this early, the earliest he could think of is next Friday.

"To–tonight?" He stammers.

You tilt your head to the side and hold your mug close to your lips, "No?"

"No," he responds without thinking.

He immediately realizes you might have thought he answered out of pressure, "I would love to!"

A smile rises on your face as you bite into your bread again, "okay," you say.

Han makes the bed and then gets himself another cup of coffee while you're changing in the bathroom. He's already planning on going back to sleep after you leave.

Your phone rings again at the same time you step out of the bathroom, "Alex! Oh, my God!" You groan and accept the call.

"I'm coming!" You briefly speak into the phone then hang up.

You shove your things into your purse and put on your jacket, looking at him to say, "I'll text you about the date."

He nods and puts his coffee mug down to send you off, watching as you bend down to put on your shoes with your hair falling around your face like a waterfall.

You gasp as you stand right in front of him, "See you later?"

"See you later," he repeated, his voice tinted with excitement and intrigue but not scared.

He should have known that you're subtly hinting at a kiss as you look at him with a sweet smile on your face. This is why learning social cues is important, he missed a lot of things because of—

The next thing he knows, your lips are on his lips and your hand is fisting the front of his t-shirt, clutching at it as you brush your soft lips over his. You taste as sweet, as smooth as the custard cream you were eating earlier, he just can't enough.

Bill Withers' voice starts to fill his head again as you pull away from the kiss with a smile on your parted mouth.

"Okay, then," you hurriedly let go of his t-shirt and shyly fix your hair, "bye!"

The song keeps playing even after you leave and close the door behind you, he can hear Bill Withers singing the part where he holds the note for 18 seconds, endlessly playing in the back of his mind.

"Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day...."

-

Han doesn't want to be late so he leaves early but when he gets to the appointed place that is a museum, he sees the sign that says closed. Is he late or come to the wrong place? He checks the text you sent him and he's right, it's the only museum with this name.

He starts pacing and thinking of calling you, that way you don't have to bother coming here.

"You're early!" You say as you come from the other direction.

"I was about to call you," he blurts out.

You sense the panic in his voice and ask, "Why? What's wrong?"

He shows you the closed sign hanging on the glass door of the museum entrance, "it's closed."

Instead of disappointed, you break a laugh and gently grab his elbow, "it's closed because of the event we're going to attend," you explain, then link your arm with his to walk towards the entrance.

Despite the closed sign, the entrance is not locked but security is stopping both of you at the end of the hallway. You pull something out of your purse and show it to them, tickets.

They let you both walk through the scanner and enter the main hall of the museum, they keep the lights low but he can see people gathering around the small stage that is set between two large marble statues with a big painting decorated on the wall on the back.

"What is this?" He asks in pure curiosity.

You take two cups of beer provided for guests and hand one to him, "It's an exclusive music session, only fifty people are invited to this," you keep your voice low to avoid the chat echoing in the vast hall.

"How did you get the tickets?" He asks along with a sip of his beer.

"From a friend of a friend," you vaguely answer.

That's enough details, he's sure that someone like you has contact here and there. He shouldn't be surprised, he sips his beer and takes a spot on the back row of people getting ready to watch with the intro starts playing from the set.

"Is it a band I know?" He asks.

You scrunch your nose at him, "not sure."

The intro is building up and getting louder, the crowd welcoming the band with a wave of applause and patiently waiting as they get ready with their instruments. There are three of them, the vocalist takes center stage with a guitar slung across his chest, the one who greets the crowd is taking the left side with his keyboard and the other one occupies the right side with his drum kit.

It's one band that he never heard before but he likes how experimental their music is, the kind that is groundbreaking and atmospheric. They mix the sounds from their instruments with samplers playing from an electronic kit, the big hall helps echo the music back at him to create this grand sound effortlessly.

With only a small group of people watching and no one pulling their phones out, it's immersive and intimate. You ditch the cup of beer and turn to look at him, putting your hands on each side of his waist, singing the lyrics the band is playing.

"I just want to love you in my own language," you mouth every word of the lyrics to him.

With a smile, you lean in to gently kiss him in the dark of the room. You pull away from the kiss and put your hands around his neck, slow dancing to the song like two lovers left alive.

-

The taxi ride home reminds him of that night except that you're sober and you're sitting close next to him, holding his hand

"What do you think of our second date?"

He looks up from watching his hand clasped with yours on his thigh, "it was nice."

You nod, "Nice is good!"

It was more than nice that he can't describe it with words, Han feels the need to assure you that, "It's the best date I've ever had!"

A smile grows on your beautiful face like a blossoming flower, "our first date is still the best but this comes close to that," you half agreed with him.

Han is getting used to seeing you on his bed and wearing his clothes, smiling as you watch him getting onto the bed to sit next to you.

"Don't you want to play your songs like that too?" You ask out of the blue.

He wanted to but he's not confident if he is that good and there's another thing too. He shakes his head and shyly laughs at the brief images of him performing his songs.

"Why not?" You ask.

"I'm not that good," he shortly answers.

You scrunch your nose in disagreement and he likes it whenever you do that, "I don't believe that."

He hates to disappoint you but that's just the truth, the songs he wrote, he's not planning on letting them out to the world for everyone to hear.

You stack your legs to one side, facing him, "Can I ask you something?"

Another question, how thrilling! He nods in excitement at what you're curious about.

"Is the second date too early for us to have sex?"

Han chokes on his saliva and stifles a cough. A part of him wants to take things slow with you but another part of him fancies you so much he can't say no to you. He should choose to be wise and choose the former, right?

"Uh... I think we should wait until the third date," he says and his mouth feels bitter saying it.

"Ah, okay," you repeatedly nod.

A moment passes in silence then you turn to look at him, "I mean, we can start by sleeping naked together," you suggest an idea.

He swallows air at the mention of 'naked' and 'together', it seems impossible to him to do that without involving anything sexual in between.

"Or we'll wait for the third date, that's fine," you quickly add with an awkward laugh.

Things are moving so fast that Han is still having a hard time processing everything that happened in the last seven days. But why would he stop when things are going well between you and him?

You wanted this and he wanted this too, as long as you both are going in the same direction, why hit the brake and risk everything going off track?

"We can sleep naked together," he says with a plain tone.

"Yeah?"

He nods and turns to sit on the edge of the bed, volunteering to be the first to take his clothes off. The bed shifts and he guesses you decide to start taking your clothes off too.

Han hurriedly gets under the duvet and watches you unclasping your bra. He stops looking as you get up to remove your underwear. You crawl back onto the bed and get under the cover, slowly settling yourself next to him, putting your hand on his bare chest.

"You're shivering," you lowly speak with your face only inches away from him, then proceed to snuggle next to him.

He stares at the ceiling because he knows, if he looks at you, he wants to kiss you and a kiss will unlock the raging desire inside him. He can feel your nipples graze his side as your body overlaps half of his body, your leg drapes around his with your foot softly rubbing his shin.

You lean into his side and place a long kiss on his neck, your hand slides down his front, stopping right on his abdomen.

"How about now, mmh?" You softly whisper.

Using your fingers, you lightly touch his abdomen making lazy circles on the skin.

"I have condoms in my purse if that's your concern," you tell him.

Han is getting weak with every kiss you place on his neck and the skin behind his ear. He turns his head to the side and is about to tell you what his concerns are but you capture his lips in a rapturous kiss.

You gently lick his lips before pulling away, "I want to do this with you," you assure him.

He doesn't know how to tell you that it's not you, it's him and his low self-esteem. He kisses you again to brace himself to speak his worry with you.

"I'm bad at it," he says.

That gets you quiet for a moment, "says who?"

He's unsure of it too but mostly it's the anxiety talking, "Me?"

You lowly chuckle and put more of your body on top of him, "How do I know you're bad if I haven't tried?"

That's what confuses him too. It's not like he has a rating written on his head for his sex skill, "I—"

You cut him off with a kiss and shut him up for good as you keep kissing him, your hand sliding lower until you meet his hardening member.

You stimulate him with gentle strokes, lightly rubbing his tip with your thumb while lowly moaning against his lips. You pull away from the kiss to say, "You can touch me."

Hesitate for a while, Han rests his hand on the arch of your back, his fingers trailing down your spine as you continue kissing him. You know how to use your lips, your tongue, your teeth, he can lay there and let you kiss him day and night. He wraps his arms around you to fully feel you against his body, skin to skin.

"How are you so soft?" He doesn't mean to say it out loud but you smile hearing his words.

You give him a long peck on the lips before excusing yourself to get the condom from your purse. His eyes follow you as you climb onto the bed.

Sitting next to his body with all of your hair draped on one shoulder, you rip open the foil packet and carefully, roll the rubber down his length. You crawl over his body and slowly put your body on top of him, continuing the fiery kisses that kindled the fire inside him.

This time, Han lets his hands freely roam your body, trailing the curve of your body, and feels your flesh molds into the palm of his hands.

You place a long peck on his lips before getting up, kneeling with your body between your bodies. You put your hand on his chest and say, "Just lay back, I'll do all the work."

He swallows air and with his own eyes, he sees you taking a seat on his thighs and wrapping your hand around his swollen cock. You rub it against your wetness which he can see and feel, it takes everything in him to not let his brain shut down.

"Oh," you moan with your eyes closed as you keep rubbing his shaft between your folds.

You roll your head around while letting out a long moan and then look at him in the eyes with a sly smile on your face. Still holding it in your hand, you position yourself and align his cock with your entrance, then you slowly lower yourself down his length.

"Oh," you moan again.

It's the sight of his cock disappearing into you that gets his jaws hanging open, you moan some more as you take all of him and seated on his thighs again. A low laugh spills out of your parted mouth as you tilt your head back, then say, "Oh, my— oh, I need a moment!"

Han feels like he's having an out-of-body experience, he's getting turned on more from looking at you doing things to him than the feeling of being inside you. He believes it's because his brain has a hard time catching up, he can only look at you with eyes wide open.

"How do I feel?" you lowly ask with a peck on his open mouth, then kiss his neck next, "Do I feel good, mmh?"

His brain is so close to short-circuiting that he can't form a verbal answer, he stifles a nod and draws a big breath instead.

As you straddle him, you take his hands and put them on your body, touching yourself using his hands, smooth as silk that he whimpers under his breath. You drop his hands on your thighs and put your hands on his chest as you start rolling your hips back and forth, at times, you move in circular motions.

Han lets out a groan as you abruptly stop moving and take his hands away from you, "Give me a moment," you say with a hoarse voice.

You flip all of your hair away to the back then plant both feet against the mattress on each side of his body. You prop your hands behind you and against his thighs as support.

In this position, Han can see his cock slips in and out of you as you bounce on top of him with your head thrown back and moaning, filling the room with your lewd noises. He can feel it now, your walls wrapping and tightening around him. His hands flew to your hips, trying to slow you down but instead of that, he gripped each side of your waist until his nails dug into the flesh.

"Oh..." you breathless moan.

"So good, so good," you repeatedly chant as your hips pick up the speed.

He doesn't mean to cum first but watching you enjoying yourself and fucking him so good gets him so overwhelmed, it just happens.

Seeing you getting tired, he helps you by guiding you to move on top of him. Your skin is moist with sweat, your breasts are bouncing with every movement and your breath is ragged.

"So close, oh, so close," you tell him between your whines.

He draws you close until your chest meets his so he can start bucking his hips from under you. His mouth is pressed against your shoulder as you're moaning so close to his ear.

"I'm cumming, oh..." you muffle your scream by pressing a haste kiss on his lips.

You whimper against his lips as you're reeling from the immense pleasure, returning the kisses with tongue and teeth clashes in your mouth. You both gasp for air the second you let go of the kiss and slowly come down from the high by cuddling each other.

Han gets comfortable touching your body now, he lightly touches you and kisses the skin that he can put his lips on as you're lying on top of him.

"That wasn't bad," you say with your eyes closed.

He notices the blissful smile on your face that can only mean everything went well unlike what he thought it would be.

You lean in to kiss his cheek and kiss his lips next, longer than the previous one, "This counts as our third date," you remark.

It usually scares him that things are going so fast but this feels right. Maybe all these times, he was wrong trying to fit everything into everyone's standard when in fact, things should go at his own pace.

He wouldn't let this slide away just because the time it took from him knowing you to date you happens in a week.

"Okay," he agrees.

You smile and place a long peck on his lips, "we're dating now," you say.

"Yes."

"I am your girlfriend now," you inform with a sly smile.

He lets out a chuckle and puts his hand on the nape of your neck, "And I am your boyfriend."

"That's right!" You respond.

"We're boyfriend and girlfriend," he remarks.

Even though it feels foreign in his mouth, he likes the sound of it. You and him, boyfriend and girlfriend.

-

TWO MONTHS LATER

Han is so used to thinking that he's the only character existing in his life. Han shopping for groceries by himself, Han does his laundry himself, Han makes coffee for one, Han sleeps alone on his bed, and he thinks of those kinds of scenarios in his head often enough to prepare himself that maybe what his future would be like.

Never once did he think another character would enter his scenarios. But looking at you walking around his apartment in his clothes, eating food from his fridge, and sleeping together almost every night, he starts to think that maybe his future wouldn't be as bleak as he thought it would be.

He also used to be by himself, he can't stand being in a room with anyone else and it's strange how fast he can adjust himself to your presence.

He's happy as long as you're around him, just like now. He's sitting with his back against the headboard, a guitar on his lap, and been aimlessly playing it yet you remain unbothered, lying sideways with a hand propped under your head while reading a book, occupying the end of the bed.

Even sharing the silence with you isn't boring, it's comfortable and nice. How can it get boring when he gets to see your beautiful face as much as he wants?

"Babe?" He calls.

You look away from your book, "yeah?"

"Want to hear a song I wrote about you?" He asks with a sly grin.

You exhale and close your book, "Okay, let's hear it."

Han takes a breath and memorizes the chords he's going to play, he begins by placing his fingers on the guitar fret to form the A chord.

He strums and starts singing, "Spinning on that dizzy edge. Kissed her face and kissed her head. Dreamed of all the different ways. I had to make her glow.”

Once he finds the rhythm, he can confidently look at you as he continues singing and playing his guitar.

"'Why are you so far away?' she said. 'Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you, that I'm in love with you?'"

With such agility, his fingers seamlessly change their position based on the chords he's playing on the fret.

"You... Soft and only. You... Lost and lonely."

He smiles as he sings and stares at the expression on your face as you intently listen to him.

"You... Strange as angels. Dancing in the deepest oceans. Twisting in the water."

He raises the note at the end and croons, "You're just like a dream. You're just like a dream."

He aggressively strums the strings to end the song and lifts his guitar in pride.

"It's good, right?" He asks with a subtle eyebrow raise.

You turn and lay on your stomach, not sure if you know that in that position, he can see your cleavage as your breasts almost spill out of your black tank top. He shouldn't be seeing those but it's easy to tell you're not impressed with the song he played.

"Three things," you simply say.

"Go ahead and tell me," he allows you with a hand gesture.

"First, you think I wouldn't know that it's The Cure song?" You ask with a hand under your chin.

He looks up and shrugs, he can't find any reason why you wouldn't know such a widely known band, "Well..."

"Second is I don't like love songs," you share with an apologetic smile.

It hits him just now that he should know you're not a fan of love songs. He agrees with a nod, "Okay, noted. The third?"

"I don't want you to write a love song about me," you say.

"Oh, come on!" He groans in complaint.

"I haven't been dating anyone in a long time and now that I have a girlfriend, I have so much to get off my chest so let me be gooey and cheesy!" He rambles and runs out of breath at the end of the sentence.

"I'm not saying you can't write love songs," you say with a subtle eye roll.

"You want me to write love songs about... someone else?" He asks with confusion.

"Or about something like your faded and worn-out Supreme t-shirt," you answer.

Han can't tell if you're trying to mock him, make fun of him or completely joking, either way, he's feeling offended.

"Can I write a hate song about you then?" He asks.

You scrunch your nose and ask, "A hate song?"

"Yeah like things I hate about you," he says with a sneer.

He picks up his guitar and places it on his lap again, "You know what? I wrote one already just now," he says.

You stifle a laugh and lightly shake your head, "The stage is yours."

Han lies about making a song in his head just now but he starts by strumming his guitar and plays a combination of chords.

"I hate your hair..." he begins, strumming two chords in between as he thinks of another lyric.

"The way it always falls perfectly in place and makes you look like a girl in a shampoo ad," he tries to fit the melody to the chords he's playing.

"Hate it when you fix my grammar and insist that it's pronounced keen-wah instead of queen-noa," he continues while thinking of another thing he hates.

"I know you're right but god please let me be a man with pride."

You dramatically roll your eyes at that one while keep listening to him as he goes through a bridge which is just him playing the same four chords on repeat.

"Hate it, hate it that I'm your boyfriend," he keeps going.

"Now people going to compare us and say you have the prettiest smile," He slips two chords in between, "but that's okay... because I have the bigger brain."

You frown at that one and throw daggers with your eyes, he takes that as his cue to stop with his make-up song and ends it with a slap on the guitar.

"So..." he drags the word as silence hangs in the air, "what do you think?"

You tilt your head to one side and stay quiet for a moment. You rub your temple is never a good sign and he prepares himself for the worst.

Then you suddenly ask, "Want to make out?"

He repeatedly nods like a happy puppy, putting away his guitar as you crawl on the bed towards him. You put your leg over his body and sit on his lap.

You smile as you look down at his face with your hands holding his face, and then you slowly put your lips on his lips, kissing him with fondness.

He no longer hesitates to touch you, he puts his arms under and around you, angling your head so he can kiss you deeper, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he drags his mouth down the column on your neck.

"Han?" You softly call.

He hums and answers your call with a kiss because that's most likely what you're going to ask him which is to kiss you again.

The hand on his chest pushes him away and keeps a few inches between your faces, "I read your journal this morning," You suddenly confess and hurriedly kiss him, knowing that he's going to be mad about it.

It's his turn to push you away with his hands on your shoulders, "You went through my underwear drawer?"

There's a surprised look on your face, "Ew, no. It was lying near the window sill," you say.

It's his habit of forgetting things, where he puts them, and forgets to put them back in its place. He's bad with his memory but the thing is you read it.

"Another thing on the list of things I hate about you," he remarks.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," you sigh.

"I wrote about my most personal things there," he says with his hands resting on your shoulder blades.

"Like how you lost your virginity in the backseat of a car while Radiohead's most depressing song is playing in the car stereo?"

"Exit Music For A Film is not depressing," he defends himself.

"They wrote it for the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack and they didn't even play it in the movie because guess what?"

"It's depressing?"

You nod and put your hands on his chest, it's time to turn the conversation back on track, "No one wants to listen to a song about how you lost your virginity but your other songs are good."

"You should let them out to the world," you say with eyes that sparkle and make his heart leap.

He turns away to not let your charm win him over, "You know how I feel about being a singer, by myself on a stage... it's awkward," he explains.

You turn his head back to look at you, "Okay then let's make a band!" You simply solve.

"Unless you want to join then I don't have anyone who wants to be in a band with me," he says with a defeated sigh.

You turn his head back to face you again, "how about a one-man band?"

"That's even lame. I never heard a successful one-man band," he says with a chagrin.

You put on a shocked face and start to list all the one-man bands you know, "Paul McCartney, Prince, Phil Collins, Bon Iver, Tame Impala, LCD Soundsystem, M83, Sufjan Stevens... and Dave Grohl basically started The Foo Fighters by himself," you finish with a proud smile.

"Dave Grohl and I are different entities, he is in Nirvana and I'm just... me, loser," he gives another explanation that makes him not pursue music.

"Being dramatic again," you sigh and rub your temple again.

He slides his hands down your arms and squeezes your elbows, he understands that you're trying to be supportive of his passion but he's not sure of his talent.

He sees your disappointed face and lifts your chin, "I'm not that good," he says.

You don't even try to deny him, probably have enough of doing it for him.

"And I'm still mad about you reading my journal," he says with a pout.

You put your hands around his neck and draw him close, "How about I give you head to make up for it?"

That gets him hot and bothered in a second, he plays it cool as if your words didn't affect him at all.

"Well, if you insist," he says.

You chuckle and kiss him, continuing the make-out session that is put to a halt by an argument. Your hand swiftly works open his jeans and slips inside, palming his hardening member with your hand.

"I'll make you forget that you were mad at me," you whisper before kissing him down his chest and pulling his jeans down to let his cock out of its confine.

Han has already forgotten that he was mad at you the second you take all of his length into your mouth, you're lying between his legs and taking your time to please him with your mouth.

Not just that, he's slowly losing his mind as you keep sucking him and combining it with your hand pumping the rest that you can't take with your mouth.

"Are you close, baby?" You ask before putting his swollen cock in your mouth again.

"Uh-huh," he breathlessly answers.

You pull it out and gasp for air, pumping his cock slick with your spit as you ask, "Where do you want to cum?"

His brain is foggy to pick one out of so many options but you notice that he's eyeing your chest and understand it right away.

You let go of his cock to take your tank top off and let your breasts hang down your chest as you lean down over his crotch to continue sucking his cock. Your nipples are grazing his thighs and his legs twitch at how it arouses him in a newfound way, "close, baby?"

He repeatedly nods and watches you keep the stimulation going by pumping his cock at a quick pace, bringing your chest close as you're doing it.

You put all of your hair to the back, not risking any of his bodily fluid lands on it. You moan and sigh, looking into his eyes as you say, "I can feel you twitching in my hand."

With a few more pumps, the white arch of his seed erupted from the tip of his cock, painting streaks on your chest and breasts.

"You cum a lot, baby," you say with an impressed, sultry smile for him to think that it's a complaint.

You keep your hand going up and down his shaft, milking every drop of the pearly white essence. You use the tip of his cock to smear it all over and around your nipples.

Once you're done playing with his cock that gradually softens in your hand, you crawl over to kiss him.

"Are you still mad?" You ask with a sweet, sinful smile.

He puts on a dumb smile and says, "Me? Mad? I must be crazy to be mad at you."

-

Han is in the middle of his class when he receives a new text message, he should be thankful to whoever texted him because he almost falls asleep until his phone buzzes on his desk and startles him awake. He checks the text by putting his phone under the desk and smiles seeing your contact name as the sender.

"Meet me at the library steps after class," you wrote in your text.

The library steps are located on the steps of the building across the library but they call it the library steps because most students like to read or study while sitting on the steps. Not sure if you know that his class has ended, he looks around and can't find you, so he takes a seat on the steps with his backpack next to his feet.

The weather is cool and pleasant, he has an hour before his next class starts so he has time to wait and enjoy the weather. After a few minutes, he spots you making your way toward him and he gets up to welcome you, you're walking so fast and not slowing down even though he's only a few meters away.

Crash is imminent but that seems to be what your intention is, you loop your arms around his neck and pull him for a kiss. This marks the first time you kiss him on campus and it's nerve-wracking, he can't stop thinking how many people are watching him now.

He looks around the second he lets go of the kiss and finds that no one truly cares. Well, it's not like kissing on the campus ground is illegal so why should he worry?

"Oh, I have fifteen minutes before my next class so I'm just going to text you what I need to tell you," you explain everything in one breath.

"Why can't you tell me now?" He asks, perplexed.

"Because you're most likely to forget it so I'll just text you," you answer and fix the collar of his shirt.

"Then why did you ask to meet me here?" He asks again even with more curiosity.

"That's because I want to see you and kiss you," you simply answer and give him a quick peck on the lips with a giggle.

Han laughs, the kind of laugh that makes him shine from within, a part of him that he has never seen until you brought it out of him.

"Why? I can't do that?" You ask with a chuckle.

He puts his arms around you and pulls you close, "We can definitely do that."

Han takes his turn to kiss you, giving you a long, lingering kiss and trying to keep it appropriate. He endearingly brushes your hair after and tucks it behind your ear. The sun hits you right in the eyes as you look up at him with a smile that is as warm as your smile.

"I have to go now," you mutter.

"Okay," he says and presses a long peck on your lips before letting you go.

It's been months since he dated you and he can still hear Bill Withers singing inside his head.

"Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day..."

-

The address you sent is of the house of someone he doesn't know but he recognized some faces as he walked inside so he assumed it belonged to a fellow university. You said you'll be waiting by the kitchen but it's a big house and it's hard to navigate through the sea of people without bumping into one.

After getting lost in a maze of big and expensive furniture, he finds you in the kitchen like you said, nursing a bottle of beer while leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hey, you're here!" You exclaim as you see him coming to you.

You're going right into his arms to hug him, "Miss you," you mumble.

"You're drunk already?" He jokingly asks.

You scoff and look at him, "Not even close," you answer.

It's impossible to resist kissing you when you're this close and you're smiling at him, your hands are around him like his personal comfort blanket. Han leans in and gives you a short yet sweet kiss on the lips.

You giggle when he pulls away and hands him your beer, "I have someone I want you to meet," you say.

Han doesn't realize that someone is standing at the end of the counter until you gesture him to come. A small guy wearing a beanie and glasses perched on his nose, he dressed so casually for a party in a white t-shirt and jeans.

"This is Felix," you introduce him.

Felix smiles and offers his hand for a handshake, "I'm Felix," he says.

He gets taken aback by his deep voice, not expecting that it's coming out of this elf-like person, "I'm Han," he introduces back.

"I know Felix from my communication class, we're doing an assignment together and I found out recently that," you turn to look at Han before continuing talking, "Felix plays drums."

Now he gets your intention of inviting him to this party, you know he hates coming to things like this but he understands now.

"I told him about your songs and your dream of forming a rock band," you explain,  avoiding his eyes are you speak since you're doing all of it behind his back.

"Yeah, I'm interested," Felix says between his sips of canned Red Bull.

Han doesn't know how to explain to Felix that it's never his dream to form a rock band, it's mostly you and your steadfast conviction that that dream will come true.

"I don't—"

You cut him off by grabbing his and Felix's hand, "Now, come follow me," you say.

Han and Felix are trailing behind you as you lead the way to the basement of the house that he believes is off-limit to guests.

You open the door to what he guesses is a door to a supply closet, it's indeed that from stacks of sheets and towels on the shelf but on the back, there's another door. From the way you know that it's a sliding door, he believes you've been here but that's a question he'll ask later in private.

"Welcome to rich people's man cave," you announce.

It's a recreation room filled with fun and expensive stuff, it's a literal man cave because Han can imagine him spending most of his time here if he were the owner.

"Are we even allowed here?" Felix asks, being the only one with a conscience.

"I know the owner of the house and I've been here before," you reply but not really answering his question.

Han glares at you for now but something else behind you steals his attention away, a custom Fender Stratocaster. He goes to admire it with his hands.

"Felix, you may want to check this," you say, throwing away the white sheets covering the drums.

He gasps at the sight of it and not waste time sitting behind the drums, touching the surface of it with amazement in his eyes, "Why would they keep this sweet thing hidden in here?"

You stand in the middle of a room and watch them admiring musical instruments like they're historic artifacts. Having enough of being ignored, you say, "You guys can start jamming together, perhaps?"

Han turns to look at you and with his eyes widening, he asks, "You want me to play with this?"

"Yeah."

"Are we even allowed?" Felix asks again.

"No one can hear us playing," you reply and again, not really answering his question.

"How do you know people are not going to hear us jamming in here?" Han asks.

"Uh... I just know," you answer with a grin and a shrug.

"It's soundproofed," Felix adds as he touches the lined walls behind him.

"And it's soundproofed," you repeated his words.

Han doubts that your intention to help him form a band will go according to plan but he can't resist playing the guitar and there's no harm in playing one song.

"What do you usually play?" Han asks Felix.

"Metal, death metal, post-death metal, rock, classic rock..." he lists the genre instead of telling him the band names.

Han thinks of one famous rock song widely known by people but at the same time, he wants to test how knowledgeable Felix is within the rock genre.

"Let's play Black Hole Sun," Han says to him.

Felix thinks for a while, "Soundgarden? Yeah, okay," he agrees.

Now that the guitar is slung across his shoulder and right in front of him, he feels nervous to play it. He plugged the cable that connects it to the amplifier, he's tuning it while Felix is warming up and tightening the screws on the drums.

"Woohoo!" You cheer even though they barely started yet.

Han searches for the chords first on the internet to refresh his memory and warm up his hands, "Ready?"

Felix gives him a thumbs-up in response.

Han starts playing the riff then Felix comes in right after. It's a whole new experience for him to play a song with someone or just like what you called it, jamming.

"Black hole sun, won't you come and wash away the rain?"

with no mic, Han sings as loud as he can but it's impressive how Felix stays on the beat.

"Black hole sun won't you come, won't you come..."

He's too focused on watching Felix nailing the part that leads to the end of the song that he missed a chord, but quickly recovering from it.

"Woohoo!" You cheer again and Han almost forgot that you're in the room with them.

It was thrilling and exciting, he can feel his heart pounding with the guitar still hanging around his chest.

"That was fun!" Felix says with a grin.

Han is at a loss for words, not expecting that he'll love it this much. Maybe he's meant to form a rock band like you said. He holds his hand up at him for a high-five, "Good job, man!"

Felix excitedly high-fives him with a big grin on his face, he looks much more attractive without his glasses and Han can see freckles dotted his cheeks.

You wait until he puts the guitar down to jump at him and fortunately, he's strong enough to catch you, you press a haste kiss on his lips with an exaggerated smooching sound.

"See? I told you!" You tell him before pressing another kiss with your hands around his neck.

Maybe it's the adrenaline still lingering, he kisses you so passionately and ignores that there's another person in the room.

Another person comes into the room and surprises everyone that Han immediately puts you down, "Who are you guys?"

Han glances at you and you glance at him, there's a moment passed in awkward silence, then you make up an excuse on the spot.

"We accidentally stumbled here to get some privacy, you know," you purposely slurring your words and holding on to him to imply that you're drunk.

Han plays a long and puts his hand around your waist, drooping his eyes and putting a stupid smile on his face. He seems to buy it from the way he shifts his eyes to Felix.

"And what is he doing here?" The owner of the mancave asks.

"He..." you drag the word as you think of something, "likes to watch?"

The three of you are still laughing after getting out of the house and stopping to lean against a stranger's car, composing yourselves back from what just happened.

"You said you know the owner of the house," Han says.

"I know but we're not acquainted," you defend yourself with a sly smile.

You turn to Felix and pat his shoulder, "I'm sorry for making you a perv, Lix!"

"That's alright!" He responds with a coy shrug. He's digging into his pocket jeans to pull out his car keys.

"Where do you park your car? Mine is down the block," Felix asks.

You glance at Han before looking back at Felix, "We take public transport. We're a very eco-friendly couple," you say with a sneer.

"Ah..." Felix lowly gasps, "I remember you said your boyfriend is too nervous to drive a car."

Han wonders how much work you put into the group assignment because it seems like you shared things about him a lot rather than doing that.

"Let me give you guys a drive home," Felix kindly offers with a smile.

There's nothing phony about Felix. Han has met a lot of people in his life to know when someone is only putting up a good front but not with Felix, he can tell right away that he's a genuinely kind person.

As a way to get back to you, Han runs to the passenger's side before you and shouts, "Shotgun!"

That leaves you no option but to reluctantly get into the backseat of the car.

After turning the car engine on, Felix leaves it for a while to warm up while he connects his phone to the car stereo, "You don't mind that I put on some music, right?"

Felix is so well-mannered but Han doesn't find it obnoxious, he finds it adorable instead, "It's your car, do what you want."

Once he settles on a song, he backs the car out of someone's driveway and starts driving with one hand on the steering wheel. The song starts with a one-chord guitar strum and followed by a steady bang of drums.

"I AM IRON MAN!" You and Felix shout at the same time.

You lean forward between the seats and put your hand on his shoulder, "it's Lix's favorite band, Black Sabbath."

"Yes, I know," Han says with a snide smile.

"Why aren't you singing along?" You ask, cupping his chin with your hand.

Felix is focused on looking at the road ahead to pay attention to him and how you treat him like a baby, not that he doesn't like it but he prefers not to do it in public.

"Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind? Can he walk at all? Or if he moves, will he fall?" You and Felix sing at the same time.

Han is just too embarrassed to join in but he knows you won't stop teasing him until he sings. Besides that, he can see why Felix likes this band, it's the intense and fast-paced drumming. He's doing it now by tapping his steering wheel with both hands.

Han decides to join when the song gets to the second chorus, "Nobody wants him. They just turn their heads."

"Yeah!" You exclaim in satisfaction and raise your voice louder.

"Nobody helps him. Now he has his revenge," the three of you filling the space in the car with your singing.

The song reaches the climax of heavy riffs and an impeccable guitar solo that makes him feel alive as the car glides through the night.

-

Today will be the first time for Han and Felix to do a band practice together.

Felix regularly practices his drumming and he can use the studio, one of the facilities provided by the university but its use is limited in time, they can practice on Thursday and Saturday for two hours.

"We'd better get started," Han says even though he hasn't tuned his guitar yet.

Han and Felix are in the middle of playing a warm-up song when you come into the studio, carrying drinks for them in one hand. You sit in the corner and watch them until the end of the song before handing out the drinks.

"Iced Americano for the boyfriend," you say as you hand him his drink with a kiss on the cheek.

You walk up to Felix to hand his, "Super sweet latte for the drummer."

"Thank you," Felix mutters and takes a big sip of it.

"Okay, I'm going back to sit in the corner and watch you guys jamming," you say with a smile, sitting on the stool and sipping your drink through a straw.

After taking a break, Han turns to Felix to ask whether he has studied the song he wrote to start practicing it.

"Yeah, I have but I saw that it's not finished yet?" Felix asks while tightening the screws on the drums.

"Yes, I plan on working the rest of the song together with you," Han answers.

Sure, Han is capable of working on the rest of his song himself but he wants to be in a band so every decision he's making now will not be his own.

Felix is patient yet eager to learn, he has musicality that Han believes is above him but he's unaware of it. He's humble and easy to work with, he couldn't find a better partner than him.

Two hours passed without him realizing it and he almost forgot that you were there in the room until you come his way, "Can we grab dinner after this?"

Felix packs his drumming sticks into his backpack, "I second that!"

Since the practice turns out to be a great one, it's only right for him to let the good times roll.

"I'll treat dinner!" He announces and you share a celebration high-five with Felix.

-

The practice is going well but Han feels something is missing. He's reclining on the seat after finishing his meal earlier than everyone else.

"I think we need one more member," Han suddenly shares.

You stop shoving another French fry and ask, "Why? I think you guys sound great!"

Han shrugs, he can't explain it because it's just instinct, "Two-man band is not it. You know what happened to The White Stripes," he explains with an example.

Felix wipes his mouth with a napkin and gulps his cola, "but that's because they have a half-decent drummer."

Hearing Felix's comment, you put down the French fry you're about to eat and push the plate away, "Don't you dare to drag my girl, Meg White, into this!" you say with squinted eyes at Felix.

"That's just fact," Felix innocently says.

"Three things," you say and rest your back, crossing your arms in front of you before laying out the three things on why Felix is wrong.

That's one of the things Han likes about you, you're not scared to speak your mind. He knows very well that you have strong opinions about certain things, he just doesn't like it when he's on the opposite side of things.

Felix is the unlucky one to be in that position right now but Han is more than happy to watch it from the sideline.

"First, their marriage got in the way," you begin with an obvious fact there is.

"Second, Meg took the "less is more" approach and you can get more power when you have more space and give songs character," you eloquently state.

"And third, Meg's parts are full of choices most drummers wouldn't make and that what makes her a one-of-a-kind player."

When Han thinks you're done explaining, you continue while leaning forward on the table, "'Seven Nation Army' is a perfect example of how simple doesn't mean boring. How many drummers would be satisfied playing the same beat for an entire song?" You aim the question at Felix who's looking petrified sitting across the table and too afraid to speak.

"Exactly!" You say even though he doesn't say anything but you take his silence as an answer.

"It's worth sacrificing our egos for the good of music," you finally conclude.

Han can't decide if he should stop it and risk getting trampled in the process or let it be which is a safer option.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Felix stammers.

"Tell that to Meg White!" You tell him.

"Uh... I'm sorry, Meg White," Felix apologizes again.

"Good," you shortly respond and lean back to continue eating your fries, turning back into your normal self.

After making sure you're relaxed and tame, Han decides to continue the talk about looking for another member.

"Anyway..." Han lets out a sigh and uneasily glances at you to continue speaking, "I think we need a bassist."

Felix drags his cup of soda and meekly sips it through a straw, "I don't know any bassist," he says.

"I can play bass but then I can't play two instruments at once, right?" He says with a smirk.

You lean to his side and coo, "Oh, must be tiring to be so good at everything!"

He playfully kisses your lips since you're leaning so close to him and it tastes salty. You giggle as you sit back to continue eating.

Something must have popped into his head as Felix shouts, "Ah, I have a friend who plays guitar really well."

That gets his hopes up that Han feels so optimistic about it again, "Yeah?"

"But she lives abroad now so..." Felix sounded so heartbroken when he said it.

"That's very helpful, Felix," you say while stealing some fries from his plate.

Han draws a sigh but it's too early to give up now, he has just started the band and who knows he'll find a new member soon.

"We just have to keep looking then," Han says.

"Yeah, I agree," Felix responds.

"I'll help," you eagerly offer with a sweet smile at him.

He endearingly pats your head and smiles back at you, "Of course, you are," he can't help but give you a quick peck on the lips.

You're not complaining when Han is riding shotgun again, probably not letting go of the argument you had with Felix earlier. Thankfully, Felix knows how to win you over.

"As an apology to Meg White," he says and presses play on his phone.

The iconic riffs of Seven Nation Army blast through the car stereo followed by the signature thumping of Meg White's drumming.

You break into a smile and shout, "Yeah, Meg White rules!!!"

-

Once he gets the privacy in his studio apartment, Han wraps you into a tight hug and kisses you so hard that you squeal, almost running out of breath.

"You're so hot when you argue," he says with a sly smile.

You chuckle and hold him back, putting your hands around his small waist, "Oh, you want to argue with me?"

He shakes his head and says, "No, I don't want to be on the wrong side of things."

What he said implies that you're always right about things and he knows that will win your heart with it.

"Good choice!" You say.

As expected, you reward him with a long, lingering kiss that escalates things further.

Being inside you strips him away from his sanity. He's thrusting into you hard and he doesn't know how you stay so calm and composed under him.

Your eyes are wide and awake, so still that he can see his reflection in them. You're smiling as you affectionately brush his hair to the back and caress his face.

"You're fucking me so good," you tell him with an open-mouthed kiss and you know that he needed to hear that.

It feels inexplicably intimate and raw, he feels naked than he already is with the way you're staring deeply into his eyes.

"Stop looking at my sex face," he turns to look the other way.

You chuckle and turn his head to face you again, making him look you in the eyes while fucking you.

He can't lie that he's close to his high, can no longer contain his groans so he lets them spill out of his parted mouth.

"Oh, fuck..." he curses between his grunts as he launches his cock deep inside you.

You break into laughter underneath him while he's still reeling from his high and his cock still planted deep inside you.

"What's so funny, mmh?" He asks with a kiss on your jaw.

You shake your head with your hands still hanging around his neck, "Nothing."

"You're making fun of my sex face, huh?" He says with eyes closed.

You don't answer but keep laughing even after he collapses onto the bed next to you, "Stop laughing!"

That doesn't stop you from laughing, he crawls over and puts his body on top of you, pressing a kiss to stop you from laughing.

It's a fruitless effort that you're still chuckling when he lets go of the kiss, "I hate you."

He presses a hard kiss on your mouth again and with a conflicted feeling he says, "But the sex was so good I can't hate you."

When he returns from the bathroom, he sees you already dressed in his t-shirt and lying on your side of the bed with your eyes closed.

He dives right into your arms with his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, he puts your hands around him just how he likes it.

From the way your hand slips into his hair and softly scratches at it, he knows that you're still awake.

"So, how did it feel playing your song for the first time?" You ask.

A lot has happened in the last 24 hours but it's mostly good, practicing his song and getting to hear how it turns out is a feeling he can't describe.

What's important is this feels right to him, it feels like it's meant to be.

"It feels... amazing," he says with a dreamy sigh.

You hum in answer and place a soft kiss on the top of his head, "I just know that you're going to be great."

Your faith in him is unwavering and he starts to believe that forming a rock band of his dreams is possible and that he can create great things with this band.

"You know, Nirvana has this secret track called Sappy," you suddenly share with your voice low and sleepy.

"It's a great song and I wish that a lot of people know about this song," you say.

You pause to take a breath and quietly exhale it, "but at the same time, I want to gatekeep it."

You lift your head and search for his eyes to say, "That's you."

Han lifts his head to hover above you, putting inches between your faces, "You're saying I'm Sappy?" He jokingly says.

You sleepily smile and lick your lips before talking, "I want the world to know how great you are with your songwriting, your music, your wit, your unfunny jokes..."

He glares at you, feeling offended that you think his jokes are not funny.

"But at the same time, I want to keep it for you myself," you say with eyes that shine and show how honest you are with what you said.

It's a heartwarming analogy and he understands the sentiment in it. He hasn't shown all of his yet but you talk about his greatness like they're written in stones. Han appreciates you more for saying that and seeing through all of his shortcomings and weaknesses and unfunny jokes.

The sound of you calling his name, your laugh, your smile, your low snores, and everything that comes out of your mouth. Those are his favorite songs.

He places a soft kiss on your lips and murmurs, "You are my favorite song."

As much as he wants you to share your greatness with the world, Han wants to keep you for himself.

-

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#stray kids smut #skz smut #han smut #han x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids fics #skz fics #kpop smut #kpop fanfics #kpop fics #seospicy smut #on tour series

[moonjxsung]

HIHIHHIHIHIHHIHHII NEW HERE😍😍

OKAY.... THOUGHTS ON SLOPPY MAKE OUT WITH LIKE CHAN OR HAN??

I THINK HAN WOULD BE SO WHINY LIKE

“m- mmm..~ baby..“ HE WOULD RUN HIS TOUNGE ALL OVER YOUR LIPS😩 AND THEN YOU WOULD LIKE SLOWLY GRIND ON HIM AND???😈😈

AND THEN CHAN😈…

you would just like. Omg sloppy make out with Chan is just so loving and slow and hands everywhere.

GRUNTS GROWLS. YOU NAME IT??🥹

yes. I’m sorry I just had to get this out😅can I be⬜️ annon?

Sloppy makeout session with Jisung is a fucking dream come true, hands literally grasping every inch of your body he can get to, little moans escaping from his lips into yours and his eyebrows arched in a neverending state of pleasure because it feels so fucking good kissing you for hours on end (probably secretly hoping he’ll get to fuck you at some point if we’re being so real). Definitely not one to hover over you long because he’d much rather pull you onto his lap and let you grind down on his half-hard cock until you do indulge him in a good fuck. Whiny!!! So fucking whiny!!!!! “Baby, grind down on it a little harder, god you drive me crazy” Probably makes it really fun too- laughs in between kisses, loves to pull back from you and admire the way your lipstick is smeared all over his face. Wholly endeared by how disheveled his hair is because you’ve been tangling your fingers in it all evening and gripping the back of his neck to work hickeys down his neck. Just a fun experience overall, “good fuck and a better lover” type beat.

Chan is more sensual than Jisung is- contrast to Jisung, he loves to be hovering over you and in charge of the whole thing. Kisses you until his lips hurt, doesn’t always have the intention to end the night by making love to you, but does want you to feel as good as if he was. He definitely plans for makeout sessions like the romantic geek he is- chooses some romantic playlist and whispers sweet nothings in between Chase Atlantic songs while he’s working his lips against yours like he hasn’t done it in years. Every time he kisses you it’s like the first time you made out; full of longing, passion, yearning to be as close to you as possible. Chan is very keen in burying his face in the crook of your neck and just letting his lips and his teeth graze there, littering your flesh in hickies and marking you so that damn near everybody knows what you were up to the night before. Also has a habit of making it fun coupled with the seriousness, will definitely laugh when you squirm in his touch or let out little moans at the sensation of his lips against you. “That feel good? Yeah? Does my girl like that?”

(Adding 🌫️ to the anon list thank u for this delicious thought YUM ily !!!!!)

#🌫️ anon #ask #stray kids #skz #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz scenarios #han jisung hard thoughts #Han Jisung smut #Han Jisung

[sunboki]

You and Han Jisung are the ultimate best friends. While he’s busy nerding away, you’re filling him in on the latest and greatest drama. That’s until he brings up crushes. And I mean, what’re you supposed to say when he asks you that? It’s not like Jisung’s your crush… right?

📓 » Han Jisung x f. reader

GENRE┊non idol au, friends to lovers, (kinda) enemies to lovers, two idiots being oblivious, fake relationship au, highschool au, angst, fluff, slowburn

WORD COUNT┊5.1k words

PLAYLIST

WARNINGS┊profanity, lack of communication, childish pettiness, stupidity at insane levels

AUG’S NOTES┊valentine’s day with ji :(( take this as my tribute to hurting my own feelings with this fic 😭

THE BOYFRIEND STATUS TAGLIST — CLOSED

The first night of your downfall all started in mid-January.

All was well and had been going well, until it wasn’t.

.

.

.

You’ve known Han Jisung since second grade, starting with having to apologize for knocking over his castle and him proceeding to cry even louder in the sandbox, snotty in his red and white striped shirt.

You swear that shirt is still in his closet.

And when he was wimping away in a corner, you were the one that got him out of his shell. To this day you’re convinced you’re the first person to ever witness the true Han Jisung, who starts slapping things when he laughs really hard, who gets overly competitive during board games, who keeps hundreds of mind-blowing tracks he’s produced to himself, and who (you wouldn’t admit it) has one of the prettiest smiles in the world.

Freshman year of high school you met Jisung again in your Geography class.

Initially, it took you a moment to recognize his face, having changed quite a bit over the years. And certainly not a bad kind of change. Although, his nerdy personality was all the assurance you needed to figure out it was him, apart from that he switched to contacts, grew his hair out more, and looked, y’know, “older.”

Older as in: what happened to you? ..Why are you so attractive?

But you won’t get too far into that.

Through the years he tutored you. Jisung had a knack for studying since day one, and despite occasionally looking like he could pass as a dropout (usually the week before finals), no one else could maintain better grades than him.

So, on a night both you and Jisung were slouched over your desk, procrastinating school work by rating people at school from most to least kissable, he turns to you, face halfway illuminated by your lamp.

“Do you like anyone?” Your boba-eyed friend asks while you aimlessly scroll through your camera roll in search of the photo you’d been talking about, mumbling a quiet “of course” in response.

Jisung makes an unconvinced noise and clasps his hands together, leaning forward.

“No like, like like anybody.”

Finally escaping your ‘rating people’s kissing-capabilities’ headspace and now entering into your ‘is this the question i think it is?’ one, you wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

It’s a strange question, not a Jisung-question, and you find yourself growing increasingly nervous the longer he stares at you.

You’ve never even thought about it really, so why are you so sweaty? Why does your heart feel as if it may just beat out of your chest, why is your mouth so dry?

Questions.

Clearing your throat and secretly praying it didn’t give away your piling anxiety, you feign a roll of your eyes, tapping your fingernail on the cool desk.

God, why are you so nervous?

“Um, nobody, why?” You retort, ignoring the scrutinizing squint of his eyes watching you.

It’s never like this. You’re the one that teases, gets him all shy, stumbling over his words. So now you suddenly feel like Jerry and he’s Tom.

Abnormal.

“C’mon, there has to be someone you think is cute,” He whines, and before you can stop it one word smacks you upside the head.

You.

“It’s Minho!” You shout, hurried and barely audible as if trying to tune out your inner panic.

Han looks stunned.

Han as in best friend, not crush. Right.

What were you thinking?

“..Min.. Minho?” He phrases slowly, evidently surprised.

Being completely honest, you’re just as surprised as he is. Minho is attractive, sure, but never in your life did you consider him like that.

Oh how you wished you could erase all of this from ever happening.

It doesn’t make sense. Because it’s not like you’re into Jisung. Or are you?

Nope. Nuh-uh. You were just caught off guard and unprepared. Not to mention it was an unexpected question, that’s all.

Fuck.

You like Jisung. There’s no point of lying to yourself anymore. From the start of seeing him again, those “friendly” gestures weren’t friendly anymore, they were intentional, pursuing. Walking from class to class together, constantly checking your texts, meeting his eyes only to smile like fools.

“Yep. Minho. That’s the guy,” Cutting each sentence shorter than the last, you nod fervently, avoiding his gaze.

Both soaking in utterly hellish silence, the tension was likely seeping through the cracks in your door at this rate.

He really shouldn’t have ever brought this up, and you shouldn’t have said Minho. So on the bright side, at least you’re both at fault here in the grand scheme of things.

“..Alright then.” He shrugs and goes back to writing down notes, ignoring how the room feels a hundred degrees hotter and that every inch of your soul is drenched in a cold sweat, plagued with the situation you landed yourself in.

What has gotten into you?

Why Minho was the first name you said couldn’t be explained, and, with your amazing fortune, Minho happened to be Jisung’s friend in their shared engineering program.

Any name. You could’ve said any name.

Great.

“Psst!” You hiss, lingering behind the door, waiting for your victim to finally finish his day-long conversation with Mr. Hong.

Said victim (a.k.a Minho) delivering a venomous glare from the corner of his eye, you gesture for him to come nearer (much to his obvious dislike) once the coast had cleared. Thankfully, the classroom was a distance from Jisung’s, providing ample time to strike your plan before they joined sixth period together.

A plan that had been devised throughout the many hours you spent sleeplessly investigating your ceiling last night.

“I need your help.”

Wait for it. Here comes the questions.

“Is this about Jisung?”

Before you can open your mouth, he cuts you off.

“You got in trouble again, didn’t you?”

You sigh.

“I-“

“Are you pregnant?”

“SHUT— up.” Grabbing a strong hold onto your one opportunity to speak, you clamber both him and yourself into the nearest seat, dreading this experience the longer Minho stares daggers into your soul.

The idea is a stretch, but if the boy in front of you cooperates, at least a few bases might get covered.

“Minho, I need your help with Jisung.”

Anticipatory eyebrows (looking freaky similar to a cat) urge you further.

“Alright, first things first,” You huff, fishing in your bag prior to sliding the notebook in front of him. His eyes widen, breathing an esteemed “wow” upon reading each line.

“Rules For Our Fake Relationship”, The title reads in messy sharpie marker. A silly, first-grade clique idea, although, if wielded correctly, could very easily quell your.. “problem” for a bit while you brainstormed the next step.

Problem being, how can I make sure, at all costs, my best friend doesn’t know I’m in love with him?

“You really thought this one through, huh.”

“I do what I have to.” Cracking your knuckles and stretching your neck, you ignore Minho’s judgemental eyeball and begin setting down some basic rules.

#1 Under no circumstances should we ever kiss.

He seems to whole-heartedly agree on that one, pretty much gagging at the thought.

#2 No one but us is allowed to know this is fake.

The rest is history, so by the time you’ve reached twenty and he adds a “No acting lovey-dovey around me” rule, you realize you might as well make this a “Rules For Worst Enemies” list instead.

But just as you hand him the pen, awaiting his signature with an eager gaze, he deflates, popping the cap back on much to your displeasure.

“Before I sign my life away to your Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, you have to promise me something.”

“..Okay.”

Please don’t say your credit card, please don’t say your credit card please don’t say your credit ca-

“No matter how long this,” he gestures to your page-full of rules, “lasts, you have to find a way to explain yourself to him before Valentine’s Day, deal?”

Valentine’s day gives you a full two weeks to keep up your act, and as much as you want to deny and tell him that would technically break Rule #2, you doubt he’ll agree any other way. It’s Minho for goodness sake, you could throw a brick at his head and he’d wake up in the hospital the next day still remembering to feed his cats.

You’ll make an excuse.. or something like that.

Fine.

“Deal.”

Finally signing the bottom of the notebook paper, the bell rings for your next class to begin and your hand has already started to cramp horribly, a telltale sign your job here is done.

Stashing the illegitimate document in your bag and parting in opposite directions, your movements halt when Minho shouts your name, his flannel-clad form sporting a mildly smug grin.

“Hey! Don’t fall in love with me, okay?” He yells, and you make a disgusted face before both erupting into laughter.

After a rather ungrateful attempt of explaining your tardiness to English class, you drop your backpack down beside your desk, notifications buzzing with texts Jisung sent earlier today asking about where you want to sit for lunch tomorrow and your weekly tutoring sessions amongst other things.

A frown tugged at your lips.

You shouldn’t have lied, really really shouldn't have. So deep inside you hope; pray this’ll be your solution.

Fuck.

Jisung likes you.

Scratch that, he’s liked you. Liked you ever since fifth grade, when he skinned his knee wrecking his favorite captain america bicycle and you patched him up with multiple superhero bandaids.

So when he finds out it’s Minho you’re interested in, Lee Minho who in a billion years he didn’t expect you to be interested in, he’s astonished.

Because it’s not every day your best friend who you’ve been harboring the fattest crush on tells you she’s interested in another guy, especially not your other good friend, so he feels entitled to feeling a tad bit upset.

It’s not your fault and he knows it. You don’t know he likes you because he’s too much of a coward to say anything, do anything.

But somehow, in some majestic, all-knowing way, he wishes you had said his name instead.

Whether it was Summer Camp in middle school or all those times he’d sat behind you in Algebra just to talk to you, it was inevitable. Because before either of you knew it, he was falling in love, and apparently you were falling in love too; with someone else.

“Alright, and? Are you gonna tell me, y’know, why you like her?”

Awaiting the dismissal bell, he folded, desperately needing some kind of assurance. First person he usually went to was you, but that wasn’t possible now, since it’s not like he could simply run up to you and shout out his feelings, could he?

Duh, of course he could. Which is another reason why he won’t, and why he doubts he ever will.

Hell, merely talking to you on the phone whenever Minho passes by amounts to a mini heart-attack.

Instead, Seo Changbin stepped in, and in the midst of a barely occupied cafe, Han Jisung found himself spilling his guts. Spilling his guts as in: venting and brainwashing himself into thinking he could win you over.

“I mean, everything.”

His friend makes a hopeless sort of sound, head resting on his hand.

“She’s like…” Han forks a bit of the cheesecake, Changbin’s expression spurring his cynical seat-mate to continue.

“Cheesecake.”

The level-headed of the two chokes on his drink.

“..Cheese– Cheesecake?”

Han affirmatively nods. “And I love Cheesecake.”

Changbin rises from the table with a frantic Jisung in tow, pleading for his friend to hear him out.

“Look! Look wait, Changbin please-“

He swore the man’s eye twitched.

Although, they’ve known each other for four years, and he was quick thinking up a solution.

“I’ll work out with you for a month.”

He’s never seen a man sit himself down faster.

And as a result, their two hours of utterly senseless talk turned into short-lived (yet greatly appreciated) relief, filled with bits and pieces of advice granted by the matchmaker (Seo Changbin) himself. Plus, he made a good point in advocating you weren’t going out with Minho yet, right? Meaning, despite the possibility being sparse, he had a 1% on his side.

Rain pelted the campus upon his exit, the boy clambering his hood over his head, stepping a mere foot into the watery terrain for a text to vibrate his phone.

Usually he’d ignore it, but that was before he saw the number.

You.

Han stopped dead in his tracks, hoodie slipping off his head in the process—standing there, assailing droplets drenching his form, device clutched in a numb grasp.

Guess the relief wasn’t the only thing short-lived.

Y/N : You’ll never guess what happened Ji!! Minho asked me out!

Something about Jisung is different recently. You’re not sure if it’s an effect of your (fake) relationship, but he’s just.. different.

Distant.

Perhaps you should’ve expected it. This is the first time you’ve ever been in a relationship while being friends with Jisung, and the entire point of this after all is to keep your mushy feelings hidden.

But his entire “cold” persona was starting to get under your skin.

Yesterday he’d completely ditched you to talk to Chan, a fellow producer in the same class as Jisung which, might you add, never happened.

In fact, there was a time that your best friend had gotten so immersed in a conversation he slammed right into a pole. He still has a scar on his nose from it.

More so, a few months ago, leaning against the sink in his dorm the day after midterms when you’d be stressing and obsessing over precalculus, he reached up, cupped your cheek in a hand and rubbed his thumb along your skin.

..And you tumbled head first into those silly feelings the “he’s just a friend” Y/n had locked away and thrown out the key to.

Little did you know Jisung had a spare key all along.

“Eyelash,” He had said, but in your pounding eardrums the comment sounded more like a whisper, an invitation.

That night you lay in bed, trying incessantly to fall asleep to no avail, because every time you close your eyes the scene ran on replay, except in your fairytale he had leaned forward and kissed you—

A car alarm going off outside your window knocks your daydream awry, ushering you to give up on peaceful slumber after the three-hour trial period.

So why were you upset? You wanted this; you wanted to stay as friends out of the fear he didn’t feel the same—even more so that your friendship would dissipate along with it.

Easy.

It didn’t feel fair. You felt like, even though Jisung didn’t have any romantic intentions with you, you were technically (unintentionally) assigning his position as the third wheel without so much as a single vote.

And it didn’t feel fair, because a possibility remained.

A possibility that could mean Jisung liked you, and if that were the case, your efforts, not to mention your mind, would officially drift itself into a never ending orbit.

Albeit amongst your mental warfare, school ran right on schedule, blind to the infinitely deep shithole you had dug (and wished to bury) yourself in.

Thursday’s schedule consisted of a main topic.

Senior prom.

According to your firsthand accounts, prom in high school is either the best or the worst school event in the history of events.

The popular girls stick to tiny maxi dresses with overly tall heels and massive hoop earrings—granted, you don’t blame them for the dress, they’ve got snatched bodies, but sometimes (most of the time) the glitz and glam is a lot on the eyes.

Jocks will show up in cargo’s or dress pants thinking they’re the shit while their attire doesn’t even cut it when you look at their weekly exchange of a girlfriend, but hey, that’s high school.

If you were talking about yourself, you’d say prom was, well, prom. Not horrible, not amazing either.

Freshman year you spent way too much time rewatching “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” and filling your nights treating the approaching occasion like a sacred holiday. Sophomore year you began to lose interest, and as for Junior year, you nearly forgot it existed.

The more you thought about it though, Jisung would honestly rock a pair of heels.

Anyway, that’s besides the point.

Senior year, this year, there was a change in your rotation. Change, as in, big change. A what-about-Jisung-while-Minho’s-in-the-picture change.

It’s not like you were genuinely dating Minho, yet your wack job of a situation kept you from telling your best friend (crush) who is deliberately avoiding you at the moment, the truth.

Never in your life did you think you’d string yourself into something like this. That Han Jisung, that snotty-nosed boy, would be a constant reason for your incessant headaches, occupying every expanse of your mind on a continuous loop.

And by chance, fate of some kind, you finally run into the runaway culprit, tagging along with Changbin after the lunch break he normally spent with you.

Oh how the tables have turned.

So when the boy expertly dodges your first attempt to communicate, you don’t let him go, unwilling to let another unread message slip past without sparing a word.

“Jisung- wait.”

He turns to you, lips drawn in that straight line that always forms when he’s nervous.

Hundreds of possible questions you could ask in this moment, minimal time.

“Are you.. going to the prom?”

What kind of question is that you dumbass.

Fixating you with an equally incredulous stare, he tips his head slightly, a mocking, humorless chuckle following.

“Um, yeah?”

What. The. Fuck.

Maybe it’s the way he phrased his words, his cocky attitude when responding that irked your nerves. Regarding you like you’re three years old.

And maybe that’s your flaw, feeling like you’re supposed to be the one sending him beet red instead, used to that comforting casualness, your comforting casualness.

Together.

You wrinkle your nose, ripping your hand from his sleeve like you were stung.

Jisung seemed to feel it too, although only you could tell.

“Oh.. okay. I’m going with Minho, my- boyfriend, so don't worry about me!”

Aw shit, now you’re just embarrassing yourself. Shut up and leave, girl.

Jesus, why do you feel like crying?

You’d never sprinted off faster, long abandoning sympathizing with the now jerk-face Jisung and certainly trying to abandon the two days separating prom’s date and the three from Valentines, otherwise, your explanation deadline.

Talk about pressure.

Nonetheless, shopping for something couple-clique was hell. After never anticipating you’d be shopping for two in the first place, simply finding a flattering color proved itself challenging.

Minho was ungodly picky, and you refused to wear what this lunatic deemed prom-worthy. Also, simultaneously trying your hardest to welcome whatever prom season was (an occasion that felt disgustingly uncomfortable) and staying awake to tirelessly plan on how you would behave seeing Han there left no room for relaxing.

Oh, and telling him everything before Valentines too, adding another sleepless night to your February calendar.

Insomnia much?

“Yah! The tie is what makes us look like a couple!” You groan, pressing the dark green bow tie to his shirt while his grabby hands attempt at prying you off.

February 12th arrived dangerously fast, to the point you managed to snag a somewhat-similar tie and dress shade at the last minute, a tie of which you were straining to attach to Minho while standing in an adjacent room to the packed auditorium.

He childishly whines, complaining that it’s too much before all of a sudden the door springs open, figure standing frozen in the entrance.

A figure none other than Jisung.

Best part? Your hands are pressed to Minho’s chest, stuck in a rather compromising position now that you mention it.

“Oh— sorry, um,” He steps back, frantically closing the door in his wake.

This is what you wanted though, isn’t it? Payback for how rude he’d been, for him to believe you were dating Minho, that you weren’t remotely interested in him.

Regardless, it feels like betrayal.

Your companion’s mildly concerned look speaks your mind.

In the midst of your mental tormenting session however, Minho slammed his hip into the side of the door while leaving, gritting out a hushed curse.

“Want me to kiss it for you?” You automatically tease, puckering up your lips in an attempt to block out the voice in your head calling you heartless.

Well, it’s not like Jisung likes you. The only feelings you’re hurting here are yours.

“I. Would. Rather. Die.” He retaliates, nose scrunched while nursing the wound.

‘What a sweetheart’ you want to call back, but the weight on your chest seals your lips shut, and with a nervous nod you stiffly head toward the opening hall.

Something to blame. Right about now, you need something to blame that would at least provide some breathing room considering the blasting of a bass shaking the floor and just how many people are crammed in here.

Everything feels too tight, too much. Minho’s got a loose hold on your hand to keep up the act, but for who? You can’t spot Jisung anywhere.

The fake boyfriend to your side caught on relatively early, sending you a troubled expression you mirror back.

An hour in and there was no enjoying yourself, no laughing and slipping drinks somebody stole from their parents, no dancing around or sending the same compliment to seventy girls on repeat.

Han wasn’t here even after he had told you (asshole-like) he’d come. The entire reason you went these lengths.

Amidst your frustration, you spot a man in the crowd.

Aha.

Chan.

I’m not looking for Jisung I’m not looking for Jisung I’m not looking for Jisung—

“Where’s Jisung?”

You’re kidding.

Chan narrows his eyes, giving your wavering, obviously upset frame a once over.

“Jisung? He dropped off something for Felix. Didn’t he tell you he wasn’t coming?”

Again, you’re kidding.

What a liar.

And maybe you shouldn't have yourself get so mad. Jisung didn’t even know the half of it, nonetheless how far you’ve gone to secure his suspicions were out of your hair.

But you did go that far, and to think he didn’t show up after all left your tribulations useless.

Calm down, the sensible Y/n would scold.

This wasn’t the sensible Y/n.

Racing from the auditorium to the neighboring apartment complex a block or so away, you utilize the extra key he’d given to you, bursting through the door while ripping off your gloves and kicking off your mud-stained heels along the way.

Han spins around, clad in regular clothes—somewhat regular clothes apart from how incredible he looks—with his biceps straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt, glasses adorning his face, plate of leftovers in hand.

He’s been working out recently, or maybe the majority of the Jisung you’d seen wore hoodies and baggy tees.

You’ll thank whoever got him to the gym later. Presently, number one is Jisung. You and Minho can be dealt with afterward.

“Look, I know you really don’t want to hear this right now, but Minho and I broke up and—“

The words sound like vomit on your tongue, especially from the look Jisung gives you in return.

Fake, It’s all fake. Yet, it feels so real. Yes, you’re still mad, but it’s Jisung, and who are you to deny you still aren’t into him.

You don’t have to be sensible to know that.

“So?”

So? He asks. This Jisung asks, not the one who would’ve, at the drop of a hat, asked if you were alright, asked if you needed anything like a friend does. This is cocky Jisung, jerk-face Jisung.

You’re spoiled with the old Jisung, were spoiled.

But this isn’t him, this is somebody else.

Your frustration levels might breach out of your ears at this rate.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He scoffs, carding a hand through soft strands of hair. “I’m not Minho. I’m not someone you can drag along just for the fun of it, alright?”

Who are you?

Wildly, you wrack your brain for any plausible explanation.

“What- What do you mean drag you along? I would never—”

“Then why?!” He cries, slamming the plate against the table hard enough you notice a crack wedged on the side.

Breaking point.

Come to think of it, this is the first time you’ve ever heard Jisung yell.

What felt to be months and months on end of this lying and stifling came out to this, huh.

Screw it.

“Because! Because I like you, no, I love you Jisung, I love you so fucking much it kills me! Minho and I were fake! I set up all this bullshit just because I was scared of what we have disappearing, can’t you understand that?!”

He’s seething; fat, crocodile tears dotting his waterline. And you stand there pathetically, waiting to hear it, hear something.

“Turn around.”

Huh?

He raises his eyebrows expectantly, and you slowly do as told, awkwardly shuffling around till your back faces him.

His fingers sift across your back, chills spreading along your skin.

“You’ve been uncomfortable all night, haven’t you? Why didn’t you tell Min— Tell me?” He grumbles, unzipping the back of your dress and simultaneously allowing much needed air to re-enter your lungs.

You don’t need to respond for him to know, another of the many things you’ve fallen for when it comes to Jisung.

Although, another reason added to that list would be his arms wrapping around your waist, cozying to your back. And another when you shift around, your own arms slipping to his neck, savoring a hug you hadn’t realized how horribly you missed.

“Can you go back to being just Y/n and not Minho’s fake girlfriend?” He mutters, head buried in your neck.

“Yeah yeah.” You respond, voice wavering the longer you stay pressed in his embrace.

Jisung pulls back slightly, studying your face.

“Can I…” He begins trailing off, eyes suddenly laser-focused on your face.

A roaring pit of deja vu swallows you whole.

His thumb does that, that thing again. That careful caress on your cheek, that close proximity.

“Eyelash.”

Everything feels like it’s on loop.

Only difference is when he begins to lean forward, and you swear it’s your imagination when he pulls the glasses off his face, lips barely ghosting over yours.

“Can I kiss you, please?” His tone slightly breathless, you don’t have to say a word by the way you’re looking at him for Jisung to take initiative.

Yet, his feather-light peck to your forehead catches you off guard, preparing to laugh before a careful hand slips to hold your neck, maneuvering your face into a kiss you’re certain you’ll remember.

Jisung, whom, quite frankly, squealed every time the two main characters confessed their love to each other, who was emotional and fragile, was kissing you.

He kisses you, just like that stupid fantasy.

It’s messy, inexperienced, but it’s Jisung. That’s enough.

And then, even worse for your sanity, his hands slip beneath your thighs to pick you up—an action that wouldn’t have been this detrimental if he hadn’t gained so much muscle recently—but it does.

Basically breathing him in, you’re slow to separate, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, sending chills down your spine.

Your nerves are on fire.

If anything, the world could burn and you’re certain you wouldn’t even notice, not when Jisung had you caged between his arms on the bar stool, positively enamored with every slight huff and gasp of air, the squeezing grip you had on his arms.

Ignorant to the point you forgot about his gym-partner (likely responsible for helping Jisung grow muscle, you’d thank him later for that) otherwise roommate who wouldn’t appreciate his best friend hogging in the kitchen.

Luckily, it only took the clattering of keys lodging into the doorknob to pull you two off of each other, scrambling to grab clothing while you raced to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

Mere seconds after your hasty escape does the man, the myth, and the legend walk in, duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Jisung awkwardly grins, leaning back on the island as if you hadn’t just been sitting there, all pretty and perfect.

Han had always thought Changbin would be some type of dog in his past life—maybe a Rottweiler. And by the way he seemed to practically smell something was up, he was certain of it.

“Did I.. walk in on something?”

Nearly slipping half-way through his reply, Jisung (non)chalantly wiped a bout of sweat from his hairline.

“Nope! Just uh.. organizing?”

He would get weeks of shit if anyone caught on, nonetheless his roommate.

Instead of interrogating him further, Changbin grunted, bending down to pick up what the younger thought to be a piece of trash, only for one of your heels to be pinched between his fingertips, expression reading: “Seriously? Organizing?”

Color draining from his face, Jisung humorlessly chuckled, likely sweating enough to fill the Atlantic ocean.

“Did I ever tell you about my secret life as a drag queen?”

Hastily snatching the shoe away at the older boy’s face palm, his face flushing ten thousand degrees upon the cuff to the shoulder he received.

“Y/n?” His friend called loudly, met with your pitiful “here…” from the bathroom and a smug giggle from an amused gym-rat.

Yeah. Shit for weeks.

“Do you think Minho’s a good kisser?” Jisung piques, sprawled out on the couch with a bag of potato chips in hand.

The first official night of your relationship with Han started in mid-February. Tonight, you planned a movie date.

You, almost suffocating from how fast you inhaled, threw a not-so-kind slipper at him, the boy screaming avidly in response.

Through a fake relationship, pettiness, and a sad attempt at making-out, in a sense, you did explain yourself.

Hah. Suck it Minho.

“Hey! I’m just asking!”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @liknws @itshannjisung @spearbinnie0327 @manuosorioh @dearly-somber @thefangirloncrack @ivydoesit23 @thisrandomgoofy15 @thisisnotjacinta @palindrome969 @shycreationdreamland @j-oneseungz @hyperpixie @eyearebee @cupidcures @gumiess @loxgirl2004

#stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #straykids x you #straykids x reader #skz fluff #straykids fluff #han jisung x y/n #han jisung x you #han jisung angst #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #straykids angst #stray kids angst #skz angst #stray kids comfort #skz comfort

[scalingsvt8thusiast]

Skin-Deep Chapter 6

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

a/n: welcome to part 2 :D I hope you all have been enjoying the fic so far. much love <3

The alarm blaring from your phone hauled you out of your peaceful slumber. You scrambled blearily to your phone, not wanting to wake the other person in your bed. After shutting off the alarm, you sat up, trying to motivate yourself to leave the bed and prepare yourself for the day. 

You felt Seungcheol’s arms wrap around your waist, he nuzzled his face into your shoulder. 

“Where do you think you’re going misus’?” 

You swore you could never get tired of this. Months into your relationship and Seungcheol’s deep, raspy morning voice still had the power to reawakened the butterflies that had made a home in your stomach. 

“Cheol, we need to get ready for class.” You said, trying to remove his arms from around you. 

He groaned but didn’t move at all, instead he tightened his grip around your waist, unwilling to let you leave the bed. He lifted his head to rest his chin on your shoulder, you craned your neck to admire his sleepy face. His eyes were half lidded and swollen, a sign of a good night’s sleep.

You brought a hand up to caress his cheek. He tilted his face in the direction of your hand. 

You giggled, “Big baby.”

“I’m your big baby.”

Ever since you and Seungcheol made it official, your morning routine consisted of you coaxing him to let him let you get out of bed before joining you in the shower. That was followed by you dancing around in the kitchen to your morning playlist and him watching fondly whilst you two took turns preparing coffee and breakfast. Some days, when the two of you had later classes, Seungcheol would drive you to a local cafe where you’d sit in his embrace as you sipped on your latte and him his iced americano, exchanging your schedules for the day. After which you would pile into his car, your favourite being his G-Wagon, and he would place a hand on your thigh closest to him and drive to uni. 

Life in uni had gotten much better, girls stopped harassing you, men stopped approaching you for sex (after your big, scary boyfriend threatened a few of them) and all the rumours about you had mostly stopped.

It was pure bliss for you and Seungcheol. Nothing in the world could make the both of you happier than being in each other’s presence.

Today, you were scheduled to study with Jeonghan and Joshua in the library after class. 

Instead of studying however, Jeonghan sat opposite you and Joshua, thinking about how he should bring up the topic of you and Seungcheol. Throughout the many group hangouts, Jeonghan would watch you and Seungcheol. He watched the way Seungcheol would glue himself to your side, always finding someway to be in contact with you. He watched the way Seungcheol would kiss you on the forehead and whisper in your ear if he needed to leave you for a moment. He watched the way Seungcheol looked at you as if you were the only person in his life.

It was sickening really, that ridiculous amount of PDA. 

But if the two of you were happy, then Jeonghan was happy too. 

Jeonghan leaned over to get your attention.

“PSSST.”

“Jesus, I know you think you’re being quiet Han, but you aren’t.” You say, taking off your earphones. “I could be deaf and still hear you.” 

“You guys are so cute,” He grinned, ignoring your comment. “You and Cheol.”

You blushed and looked down, too embarrassed to reply. Jeonghan apparently took your reaction as disagreement.

“It’s true, I’ve never seen Cheol so happy!” 

Jeonghan and Seungcheol were childhood friends. They had met in kindergarten where their parents would regularly arrange playdates, trying to encouraged their friendship as their families were in business together. While Seungcheol disagrees, Jeonghan often thanked the gods that his family was so nosy, if not he wouldn’t have found his life-long best friend. 

The duo became a trio when they met Joshua in boarding school during their teenage years. Joshua’s parents had been so worried that he wouldn’t make any friends, they called up Jeonghan’s parents and implored them to help their son. Luckily Jeonghan and Joshua hit it off immediately, Jeonghan then introduced Joshua to Seungcheol. The three of them became inseparable ever since. 

Jeonghan and Joshua had been through their fair share of Seungcheol’s ups and downs. They had seen Seungcheol go through his lowest periods when dealing with stress from his family. There was a time when Seungcheol would spend every waking moment at a club or jet-setting to another part of the world to party, trying to shake his parents off. The both of them were with him every step of the way, worried that he’d try something stupid or drink himself to death. When Seungcheol finally came down from his high, he spent months locked in his penthouse without anything to eat or drink. Jeonghan and Joshua would take turns sending food to him while trying to convince him to come out of hiding. It took a lot to finally get him out of his slump, so the fact that Seungcheol looked so happy was astounding. 

“Cheol looks at you like you shit rainbows.” Joshua deadpanned. "Have you met his parents yet?”

Jeonghan looked at him like he had grown another head.

“What? It’s a valid question!” 

“No, I haven’t.” You said, not wanting the both of them to start bickering. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too early for that?

You paused, they stared at you.

“Girl, with the way you two were acting, I would think you two were married.” Joshua deadpanned.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t meet his parents soon,” Jeonghan said to Joshua, “You know how they are.”

Joshua mouth open slightly, before nodding in understanding. 

You laughed nervously, “What do you mean?”

“Oh don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Joshua said, quick to brush it off. He hurriedly turned his attention back to his laptop.

“Let’s go back to studying!” Jeonghan said, a little too enthusiastically, “Now where was I…”

You stared at the both of them in disbelief.

“No, hey! You can’t just say stuff like that and not follow up!” You whisper-shouted. 

Jeonghan whacked Joshua on the arm, “This is your fault.”

“How is it my fault? It was a valid question!” Joshua whacked Jeonghan back on the arm.

Great, now you had two bickering children on your hands. 

“Guys.” You said sternly. 

Jeonghan sighed, “Look, you didn’t hear this from me-“

“Or me!” Joshua added.

“Seungcheol’s parents are rather,” He paused, looking for the right word. “Overbearing.”

“In a lovely way thought!” Joshua quipped. 

“We love Auntie and Uncle Choi!” Jeonghan remarked nervously, before the both of them hurriedly returned to their laptops. 

“Guys,” You grit your teeth. “Say more words.”

The two boys exchanged looks, realising they had dug themselves a grave both with you and Seungcheol. 

“I’m sure you know, Seungcheol is an only child,” Jeonghan let out a breath as he continued, “His parents want him to take over the company one day.”

“They have a very peculiar habit of trying to control every aspect of his life.” Joshua said, waving his hands in the air dismissively. “But don’t worry about it, I’m sure you two will be fine.”

They both expected you to panic, but you just looked at the both of them and rolled your eyes. 

“Really, that was the big secret? Gosh you guys were talking like they murdered people for a living.” You said, looking back down to your notes. 

You looked back up after a second to see the both of them staring at you with wide eyes. 

“Oh come on guys, it’s classic drama style plot,” You said, “His parents want him to take over the company and they don’t want him to be distracted so they won’t let him date anybody.” 

“I- Well, yea, that’s basically the gist of it.” Jeonghan hummed, surprised that you knew.

“What drama has that plot?” Joshua said, “Sounds like horrible writing.”

You stood on the steps of the library, waiting for Seungcheol to pick you up. Jeonghan and Joshua had already left, they offered to send you over to Seungcheol’s place but you insisted that it was fine since Seungcheol was in class anyway. 

You spotted Seungcheol’s black G-wagon approaching. Skipping over to the passenger seat, you opened the door to be greeted by your boyfriends charming smile.

“Hey princess,” He greeted, watching you climb into the car, “Enjoy your studying time with Han and Josh?”

“Yessir,” You leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. His cheeks turning pink. Even after months of dating, your kisses still had the ability to make him blush.

The night was spent with the two of you eating takeout food and exchanging stories about your day, followed by Seungcheol pulling you into a heated make out session on the couch. 

You could never get tired of his lips and the way his tongue moved with yours. You loved the feeling of his hands on your hips while you sat on his lap, facing him. Your arms locked around his neck bringing him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands roamed your sides making you feel like jelly. This was heaven. 

A loud ring came from Seungcheol’s phone, bringing the two of you back down to earth. 

You pulled away from his embrace, moving to sit next to him on the sofa. He groaned and pressed the back of his head against the sofa with a pained expression. His phone still ringing away on the coffee table. 

You rubbed his arm, “You should take that.”

“Someone better be dead or dying.” He muttered, annoyed that his time with you was interrupted by god knows who. 

“I’ll take a shower first, kay?” You say, giving his arm a squeeze, “Come join me when you’re done.”

He watched as you disappeared up the stairs, heading for your shared bedroom. Once you were out of sight, he turned his attention to his phone. 

His expression fell when he saw the caller ID. 

a/n2: Thanks for reading!!! Again, I'm no expert in writing so if you have any comments or ideas on how I can improved, my dms/ask/whatever are always open :)

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #seungcheol fic #scoups fic #scoups #choi seungcheol #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scoups #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt #svt fanfic #svt fic #svt x reader #svt fluff #jeonghan #joshua hong

[mazeinthemiroh]

hii! may i request a skz scenario where they accidentally leak their relationship with reader (also an idol) ?? love ur work btw !!!!!

skz when they accidentally leak their relationship with their s/o

genre: angst af like you guys aren't ready, tad bit of hurt / comfort too, idol! reader

word count: 1k

warnings: so angsty ahah slayyy

pls like and reblog if you enjoy! feel free to request anything <3

bangchan

"do you trust me?"

it was a question you never thought you would have to think about when it came to chan. but now, with the paparazzi outside the hotel you both stayed at last night, it was hard to say. there was just so much uncertainty.

speculations about your relationship rose very quickly and now, in this situation, it was one photo away from being revealed.

but you did trust chan. so you nodded. he took you by the hand firmly and guided you outside the hotel lobby, where you were both greeted by the paparazzi.

and with one swift movement, your lips were on his. you were shocked at chan's choices but you melted into his touch while the cameras flashed around you.

they had broken him. and he didn't care. no more hiding anymore. and that's how he wanted it.

lee know

he was on a live stream when it happened.

just the usual catch-up with stays. something he has done hundreds of times before. nothing much. no pressure... right?

he was showing the stays watching something on his phone until he accidentally swiped to his home screen. which happened to be an exclusive, never seen before picture of you and him together. it was a candid photo seungmin had kindly taken at the time. a very cute, aesthetically pleasing and well-thought-out couples photo. and now, everyone had seen it.

"oh uhh," minho turned his phone off immediately when he realised. "anyway, i'll have to be off now. bye, bye."

he ended the live abruptly, his eyes wide and his breath quickening. he had never been so careless before. what had he done?

changbin

"are the rumours true? can you confirm, officially, that you are, in fact, dating y/n?"

changbin was expecting this question. but that doesn't mean he wasn't still underprepared and absolutely dreading it. for such a confident man he had never felt so nervous and unsure about a situation before.

but he had to do what he had to do.

"i am."

there was a collective gasp that filled the room, not only by the interviewer but also the by audience.

"and i am the happiest man i have ever been. and i plan on continuing this happy life with them for as long as they'll have me," he looked at the camera with a serious gaze, "no matter what."

hyunjin

hyunjin was very bad at hiding the fact that he had much affection for you.

it was so clear. the way he gazed at you in reality shows. the way he pined after you during award ceremonies. he wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to you because you were the love of his life. how could he not?

he was a naturally private person but for him, it didn't feel natural to hide such an overwhelming amount of love. it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

"i'm so sorry y/n," hyunjin barely whispered, "i couldn't keep this secret any longer."

the tears started to collect in his eyes.

"i need to love you freely."

han

"oh shit."

one drunk night and this happens. headline news: 'han jisung caught kissing kpop idol y/n.' and that someone was you. his partner. his not-so-secret lover. his soulmate. his everything.

he can't believe he had let this happen.

he stared at the phone in disbelief and ran his fingers through his hair, the anxiety bubbling in his chest.

he wondered who would kill him first. his manager? chan? even you? this relationship was secret for a reason. for many reasons, in fact. the questions and thoughts and worries flooded his head until he felt dizzy.

what was he going to do?

felix

'felix is dating y/n??'

that's all felix saw. every social media platform he went on, there that question was.

a harmless playlist he made for you. a playlist confessing his love and absolute adoration for you that was somehow leaked.

the tears spilt from his eyes and his bottom lip quivered uncontrollably.

"lixie, don't worry," you hummed to him as he curled into you. for both of you, it was an anxious time. but you had to be strong. at least, for him.

"i'm sure everything will work out alright. it always does." you wiped a tear away from his freckled cheek and cupped his face in your hands.

at least he still had you.

seungmin

there was a lover's duet you would sing for each other's ears alone. it was your song. just meant for the two of you.

but you sounded so sweet together. so good that you just had to record the duet together officially. after much persuasion from the other members, you both finally gave in to the thought. and it was beautiful and raw and emotional and everything seungmin could ever dream of in his ideal relationship.

and all of that joy and love was being taken away when someone leaked the duet online.

the speculations started, and seungmin slowly felt like he was sinking. his privacy, his intimate feelings, and his precious thoughts of the one he loved most had all been exposed.

jeongin

it was an accident.

it was such a reckless and unfortunate accident that jeongin could never ever forgive himself for. how many times had he been told to make sure that every picture he posted was perfect? without fault? avoiding any suspicion?

and yet one photo he posted of himself on bubble slid under his eagle-eyed radar. he thought it was harmless, but soon he was being spammed by fans. 'who's that in the reflection of the mirror?' 'who is that person with you jeongin?' 'is there something your not telling us??'

he couldn't breathe. he felt trapped in a helpless abyss of dread. and there was nothing he could do.

#stray kids #skz #kpop #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #skz imagines #skz headcanons #bangchan #bang chan #chan #seo changbin #changbin #kim seungmin #seungmin #felix #lee felix #jeongin #yang jeongin #i.n #lee know #lee minho #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #han #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #kpop imagines

[wisteriagoesvroom]

schools of thought: part 2 🦊

A landoscar college AU, told through social media

to catch up, check out part 1 here

author's notes

thank you for your patience and the kudos on part 1 🤧 irl stuff happened and i worked on a different story for a while before getting back to this one

ignore timestamps, they don't really matter

if you enjoy it, please consider liking / reblogging / commenting! 💙

—————we pick up at the federation U library———————

lando's studying late. it's a tuesday, and there aren't too many people there - just him, linda the librarian who isn't particularly impressed at anything or anyone, and a couple of other students on other islands of desks, stuck in their own world.

lando doesn't find academic work impossible per se, it's more the sustained attention that gets challenging. and contrary to how he seems, he does actually work hard at his core modules. even if he isn't sure exactly to what end, yet.

the screen's blazing bright and lagrange's theorem is starting to make his brain statick-y, so lando rubs his eyes. one of those advice pages on tiktok said changing tasks could help sometimes to refocus on his studying. something about crop rotation or switching channels of the brain or something. if it's on social media, it must be true.

so he opens his design software instead and makes a party invite.

he sends a prayer to the holy trinity of tiesto, guetta and darude for his very basic photoshop abilities. and an extra hail-van-helden for the free software that he pirated off charles.

the party playlist is already whirring in his head. definitely some garage smashed with some old school hip hop, and he's sure there's a way to get some hans zimmer piano in there. whatever, it'll work.

satisfied with his efforts, lando sips from his hydroflask. (the drink is one part instant coffee, one part spicy honey, and a lot of hot water. carlos gives him shit about it all the time, but carlos is spanish and generally prone to dramatics when it comes to coffee and just about everything else.)

still focused on his important task of Procrastinating His Stabilizer Equations, lando texts max.

linda, to her credit, only glared at him once when he started humming kid cudi under his breath.

and judging from experience, max and charles are going to be a while, so there's nothing for lando to do but stare at the wall and keep working on his playlists. oh, and his math assignments.

meanwhile, oscar gets a ping from logan.

what is there to say about the meeting really, oscar thinks. uneventful. ———————earlier——————————

the first project catch-up with lando, they'd met under the campus bee statue. a sunny afternoon, but the campus was quiet, half of them having decamped to the nearby hills or beach for a change of scenery. it was just the pleasant and tolerable buzz of other students enjoying the warmth and doing university student things. he'd spotted a couple of people with picnic blankets out. he hadn't brought a picnic blanket, thinking this would be a quick meeting.

lando had appeared in a blur of white and orange, like a y2k elf. ear piercing, music festival rubber bracelets and all. in a t-shirt that said i'm acute angle.

"'sup osc!" lando said.

"that t-shirt's gramatically incorrect. technically." oscar had replied.

"whaa-aat. but more to the point, it's funny."

"i guess. did you do the reading yet? thought it'd be good to talk roles and responsibilities and maybe a project timeline."

"timeline?" lando said, as he tossed his backpack down and flopped on the lawn. lando extracted two heinekens from a side pocket and went through a complicated manouvre of opening them with his room keys. "thought we'd maybe crack open a beer and just chat, matey."

i'm not your matey, oscar thought. i'm a passenger to whatever train of chaos it is that you're driving and i'd like to get off.

oscar's skin prickled as he realised the double meaning of get off. he also tried to not think too hard about how overfamiliar lando was acting towards him. the worse thing was: there was a bigger part of him that was probably willing to let lando get away with it.

lando seemed to be ignoring whatever existential crisis oscar was going through. instead, lando was going on and on about philosophical youtubers and sparknotes. lando was so animated when he spoke, too: hands always in gestures, as if excitement buzzed directly out of his fingertips and onto oscar. there was a sparkle in his eyes, blue sliding into grey, that made oscar want to sit on his hands. because they were the kind of eyes they wrote about in regency novels, the windows to the soul kind of melodramatic nonsense. that would make him want to do stupid shit. like, get-in-the-way-of-the-project-grade kind of stupid shit.

so it took oscar a lot of energy to focus in that first meeting. he thought he did a pretty decent job picking up the thread of conversation, around the part where lando had called foucault's theory "the indiana jones thought thingy."

"i think you mean archaeology of knowledge."

"right! right." lando said, as he beamed up at him.

oscar had suddenly felt overly warm, then. probably just the sun on the quad, he thought to himself. he was from australia, so technically he should've known better, and worn adequate SPF. he'd have to set a phone reminder for that at a later point. he refused to be fooled again by the european summer and its apparently hypnotic effects. even if those hypnotic effects were probably mostly caused by a menacing parallel phenomenon that oscar would call solarus landonitus.

—————————————————

later, oscar's cooks dinner, and tries to decipher the instructions on the back of a frozen bag of beef mince. pato and logan are away at a football game across the border in italy, an overnighter thing.

his phone vibrates. it's lando.

oscar's hands hover over the letter keys. a party? he couldn't think of anything worse. but lando said a couple of friends, and it's true oscar hasn't really partied, and he thinks hanging out with his D&D friends doesn't really count. there had been that one instance in first year when oscar had gone to try and meet logan and pato at the ministry of sound, and he'd accidentally ended up at the ministry of state government building. after that, he'd figured parties weren't really fated for him.

but. lando, social butterfly lando, campus personality lando is the one asking. and logan's right, oscar probably does take himself too seriously.

osc types and deletes at least four different responses before be replies. he is an eng lit major, he tells himself. surely he should be better at crafting his words than this. but sometimes it is what it is.

so it isn't a commitment, and it isn't a hard no, either.

oscar stares at his phone. it's gone quiet. lando's moved on – probably uploading an instagram story. or smashing his too keyboard loudly in a public space as he solves a polynomial. or making a new and unlikely EDM song out of radiator noises, or whatever it is that lando "i'm so cool" norris decides to do with his free time.

oscar is studying the dorm kitchen tiles, thinking about not thinking about lando, when his pasta water boils over. it hits the induction stove with a loud hiss.

"shit!" osc yelps. he grabs a nearby dish towel to wipe it up.

the pasta ends up both soggy and under salted, but he eats it anyway. mind turning all the while.

——————stay tuned part 3 (hint: party party)————————

p.s. if you want to be tagged/notified on the next part/updates just lmk in comments or DM and i'd be happy to!!

#landoscar #oscar piastri #lando norris #mctwinks #twinklaren #f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic #schools of thought f1blr fic #ln4 #op81 #814 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 fic #f1 smau #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #814m #text fic #landoscar au #formula one fanfiction #f1 social media au #formula one social media au #wisteriawritesstuff #social media au

[tteokdoroki]

✩࿐TRACK 05: SUMMER. hanta sero (2K)

about. after a whirl wind summer of fucking around - sero realises he’s in some deep, deep shit. he’s in love with you, but you’re set to move across the globe by the end of the season. what the hell is he gonna to do?

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! suggestive, sfw, slight angst, fluff, happy ending, sneaky links, mentions of (car) sex, friends with benefits to lovers, love confessions, sidekick + fem!reader, pro hero!sero.

things to note. reee can you believe the series is almost over? one last fic and then we’re done sobs!! this one is so corny but i love it !! some lovely sero content for you this humble saturday, i hope you enjoy <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / series playlist ✩

this was so fucked up. 

everyone had warned sero about what he was doing. his playboy antics would soon catch up to him and soon he would be the one catching feelings — he had listened to his friends but he didn’t think it would be true. he wouldn’t be this fucking whipped for a girl who was bound to leave him by the end of the season.

of course, bakugou had been the voice of reason, but his reasoning was worth questioning since he had just flown half way across the country to get back together with his girlfriend. they were going to make it work this time. lucky them. 

but hanta isn’t in the same situation as any of his old high school friends — he’s been messing about with a sidekick from bakugou’s agency who was set to transfer to america right after summer ended. doing things he shouldn’t have been doing, fucking you in places where he shouldn’t have, catching feelings when he shouldn’t have. at the start of this sneaky arrangement, the dark haired hero had told you that everything in the romantic sense was off limits.

no love, no lips, no strings. 

unfortunately for him, he can’t seem to get enough of you. he’s been trying so hard not to fall in love, but every time you kiss it’s like you’re healing all of his wounds and filling him up with life. sero first noticed it was bad when he caught himself avoiding flirting with other people, ignoring subtle invitations back to their place all in respect for your feelings. since when did hanta sero care about not hurting you? since when did he like you enough to always have you on his mind?

he would call it off as soon as the leaves turned. at least that’s what he’d promised himself — no more favours, he would act like your summer romance never even existed…but sero finds himself warming up the idea of holding you close through summer nights, growing excited at the feeling of your head against his chest so you could hear his dull heart beat.

it’s disgusting how fast his mind had changed about you, a sickly sweet and syrupy feeling coursing through the hero’s veins and clogging the arteries that led to heart just from you looking at him. like right now. your big doe eyes trained on hanta as you throw his shirt over your naked body. you’re giggling awkwardly, revelling im the brush of his sweat slicked skin against you own after the pair of you had fucked around and gotten a little messy in the backseat of his car.

he would never let this happen if it were anybody else, but you just had to be different.

“you’re staring, han,” you coo, teasing him. mocking him. as if you know how whipped he is for you. from your place, bare between the thighs in his lap, you lean forward and let your lips connect in a slow and sensual kiss — hanta lets you guide the motion and settles his calloused hands on the curve of your waist, chasing your sweet taste and your softness as he tries to cherish the moment knowing that this won’t last forever. “you good?” 

the way you breathe against sero’s open mouth drives him fucking insane — like a drug with a high so worth it he doesn’t mind if the crash kills him. “s’nothin’ princess,” he can’t help but lie, keeping his voice even. who would he be if he admitted that that he wanted more than this summer situationship he was putting himself through just for the sake of being with you. “don’t you worry your pretty little head.” 

he gives your waist a reassuring squeeze, but it does nothing to soothe the pout on your face. “hanta, we’ve been doing this long enough for me to tell when something’s bothering you,” looking away from his obsidian eyes, you trace a random pattern against the black ink  tattoo on his right shoulder, colouring outside of the lines. “you can be honest with me.” 

sero so wishes that he could be. however there’s some sort of innate barrier in his mind that stops him from admitting his truth to you. telling you how he feels won’t stop you from going across the globe to live out your fullest potential as a hero and everyone knows that long distance doesn’t work. it would never work with hanta, you probably wouldn’t be able to trust him enough… not with his past fuckboy reputation. 

“i promise it’s not worth worrying about, gorgeous.” he boops your nose, heart siezing in his chest when your face scrunches adorably at the contact. “once summer ends and you’re on the way to the states, you won’t need to stress over me, kay?” 

a quiet fills the car once sero finishes speaking, and panic takes a hold of his battling emotions. did he let slip what the real problem was? 

“you want to end this, don’t you?” your lips press into a thin line but you don’t make a move to pull away from him. the black haired hero blinks, his mind blanking. it’s now or never. “god! how could i be so stupid. to think i was going to stay here for you! i should have never gotten myself involved with you, bakugou warned me about this. he said as soon as i caught feelings it would be over and you would never feel the same—“ your mouth runs a mile a minute, all of your thoughts coming out as a whiny blur. 

it takes sero a moment to realise, but his brain catches one detail throughout your ramble — nestled between your hiccups for breath and the sound of cicadas in the bushes outside of his car. firmly, he grips your wrists before you can pull off of him — guilt settling his features when he notices the tears beginning to brew in your pretty eyes. 

“what?” you snap, voice wobbling. “let go of me hanta.” 

“no!” he snaps back. “look at me, princess.” 

“get off!” 

“just give me a second!”

both of your chests are heaving, your eyes wide and wet — and sero can’t believe how fucking beautiful you look even when teary eyed. even when it’s because of him. “just, let’s wait a minute. let me talk, okay?” once you give sero the okay and stop withdrawing from him, he pulls you to lay on his chest (just like he’s done many times before) so that you can hear just how fast his heart is racing for you. “princess,” he begins, brushing a hand down your spine to make you shiver and curl into him some more. “i’ve never been good at this feelings thing… i’ve never even been in a proper relationship b’fore…”

“is this supposed to be making me feel better, han?” 

the dark haired hero rolls his eyes despite the flustered expression that settles on his features. “aye, didn’t i ask you to let me finish?” sero half-heartedly scolds you, covering his face in embarrassment while his fingers curl in his bangs in frustration. he peeks one midnight black eye open at you once you quiet down. “good girl.” 

you pinch his nipple in response. “watch it.” 

“alright, alright, sorry princess,” inhaling deep, sero takes the plunge. “i’ve never been in a proper relationship, before you?” his lean shoulders raise, indicating how hard he’s trying. “like…this past summer, you’ve made me feel happy in ways i didn’t even know were possible. i wake up in the mornings ‘n i’m thinking of you. going by to bed it’s the same…and I can’t even explain the way i feel when i get to see you.” 

hanta feels your gaze on him, yet instead of clamming up, he swallows his pride and pushes forward. “when…when you leave; i feel like it’s going to kill me. and this isn’t me asking you to stay, princess. it’s me tellin’ you that i broke every rule i had in place for you. i think…i think that i love you.” 

a burning sensation pricks at the tips of sero’s ears as a blush spread over his body and you remain quiet. giving your hips a squeeze, he dares to look up and meet your soft stare. 

“say somethin’, princess.” 

“you love me?” when you finally snap out of your reverie, stunned into silence by your fuck buddy’s speech, you somehow manage to croak the words out shyly. sero nods once.

seconds later, a shining smile breaks out on your face — practically illuminating the back of sero’s car. “yeah. yeah i love you…” he mumbles, tipping his head up towards yours as he brushes a calloused thumb over your slightly chapped bottom lip. “i know we said no love but… i really want to…” 

“kiss me, hanta.” comes your soft command and he wastes no time in doing what he’s told — lurching forward to capture your hot mouth in a slow, calculated kiss. hanta sero pours every feeling he can’t seem to say out loud into you, hoping that you’re able to grasp how much he’s fallen for you. 

panting and with burning lungs, you pull away from one another when the need for air becomes way too much. “if you couldn’t already tell by that kiss, i love you too hanta.” you say, pressing your forehead against his, grimacing playfully at the feeling of his sweaty bangs against your sticky skin. 

“i’d fuckin’ hope so,” sero beams, grabbing your chin to get another taste. “‘m gonna miss you when you leave me.” 

“i’ll miss you more,” you breathe back, cupping his face. “we’ll figure this out.” 

“right. we’ll figure it out together.”  hanta agrees, opting to live in the moment with you instead of dwelling on what’s to come. and even though he still thinks it’s fucked up that he tried and failed at not falling in love, he truly is grateful for the three months you’ve had together this summer — looking forward the to the many more you’ll have in the future.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#sero x reader #sero smut #sero fluff #bnha smut #sero thirst #bnha x reader #sero x you #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta smut #sero hanta x you #sero hanta fluff #bnha fluff #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha fluff #my hero academia x reader #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork

[skz-streamer]

Newest Member of Cultracha

<- Back to article

<- BACK TO MASTERLIST

Pairing: ot8 (skz) x fem!reader (9th member)

Genre: Fluff, Crack? Idol Au

Warnings: cult members, slight mention of religion, being in a van? idk?

Notes: Ok at first I was like let me wait until I post the full master list of everything...but I kinda feel bad that I'm not feeding y'all anything so here you go.... Basically Y/n is part of Cultracha w Hyunjin and Jeongin, this is the backstory of it. YAYYYY FIRST FIC PART OF THE Y/N MASTERLIST!!!

Summary: Stopping on a road trip to take a bathroom break becomes a little more memorable than you thought it would be.

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately face claims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count ~700 ;)

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The van hums along the scenic coastal road, and the atmosphere inside is electric with excitement. You're nestled between Felix and Changbin, enjoying the animated chatter and laughter of your fellow members.

Bang Chan, your designated driver, glances over his shoulder and grins, "Alright, who's ready for some awesome tunes?" He cranks up the music, and the van erupts with cheers and claps.

Seungmin, riding shotgun, adds with a mischievous grin, "As long as you don't play any of those old-school songs, Chan."

Chan rolls his eyes, pretending to be offended. "Hey, my playlist is diverse!"

A chorus of playful laughter fills the air, and you join in. Seungmin leans toward you, teasing, "Don't worry, Y/n, I'm sure he's got at least one song from this decade on there."

You giggle, feeling the friendly vibes flowing through the van. The snacks you packed are making the rounds, and there's an ongoing competition between Hyunjin and Jeongin to see who can finish their bag of chips first.

As you navigate through the twists and turns, the conversation shifts to jokes. Han clears his throat dramatically. "Alright, guys, get ready for the funniest joke you'll ever hear."

"Let's hear it," Minho urges, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Han smirks, "Why did the scarecrow win an award?"

The van falls into a brief silence before Jeongin's deadpan response, "Because he was outstanding in his field?"

Han bursts into laughter, clapping his hands. "Yes! You got it!"

The rest of you burst into laughter as well, teasing Han for his choice of joke. "Wow, Han, you're really raising the bar for comedy," Seungmin jokes, earning more laughter.

Felix chimes in with his Australian accent, "Alright, I've got one. Why don't scientists trust atoms?"

Your curiosity piqued, you lean in. "Why?"

"Because they make up everything!" Felix delivers the punchline with a grin, and the van erupts into laughter once again.

Hyunjin claps him on the shoulder. "Guys I might actually jump out of the van if I hear one more joke."

As the jokes and laughter continue, Bang Chan suggests a bathroom break. You spot a small convenience store and point it out. The van comes to a stop, and you all pile out, stretching your legs and enjoying the fresh air.

The restrooms are a bit off the beaten path, nestled between tall trees. The small store looks like something straight out of a movie. After using the restroom, you exit and notice two individuals standing near the entrance. You hear snippets of their conversation about spirituality as you pass by.

"Excuse me, miss," one of them begins, stepping toward you. "Have you ever considered the path to true enlightenment?"

Caught off guard, you stutter, "Well, I..."

Before you can finish, the other person joins in, their eyes intense. "Our journey has led us to discover profound answers. Are you on a journey of your own?"

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you mumble, "I'm sorry, I have to go," and quicken your pace to the van.

Once inside, the memory of the encounter lingers, and your wide eyes don't go unnoticed by your members. As they return, laughter and smiles in tow, Hyunjin notices your demeanor.

"Hey, Y/n, everything okay?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You take a deep breath and share the bizarre encounter with the strangers. The van goes quiet as everyone absorbs the story, but soon enough, a burst of laughter fills the space.

Jeongin chuckles, "Cult members? Seriously?"

Minho grins, "Only you could attract that kind of attention, Y/n."

You let out a nervous laugh, "Yeah, tell me about it."

Changbin shakes his head with a smirk, "Well, you're back with us now, safe and sound."

Felix pats your shoulder, "Don't worry, Y/n, we won't let any cults recruit you."

As the van continues down the coastal road, you feel the warmth of your friends' comfort. Bang Chan offers a reassuring smile through the rearview mirror. "We've got your back, always."

Minho adds with a chuckle, "Yeah, and if they ever ask you to join, just tell them you're already part of the most exclusive cult – Stray Kids."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Permanent tag list: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @ot8skz-wifey @ren0325 @felixvsp

Click here to be added❤️

#skz streamer #skz fic #skz writing #skz stay #stray kids #lee felix #skz stray kids #skz fluff #skz changbin #skz crack #skz #skz x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member #skz x female reader #changbin #bangchan #bang chan #skz felix #hyunjin #lee know #jeongin #seungmin #i.n stray kids #i.n #han x y/n #han jisung #jisung skz #skz ot8

[gingerjunhan]

boyfriend headcannons - han hyeongjun

☆彡 EEEEEEKK it’s Jun Han time! :D 🩷

word count: 690 | pronouns used: none | genre: fluff, established relationship | cws: YouTube like is safe!!, all caps, (Hyeongjun’s) insecurities mentioned, eating mentioned, I love him, not proofread, lmk if I missed something

← previous member | next member →

obviously, I have a lot to say

here we go

first things first, Hyeongjun shows you how he loves you instead of telling you

there was some radio interview they did one time where the other members said he doesn’t say “I love you much”

so he makes sure to physically show his appreciation for you

what’s that? you were stressed from your workload? Hyeongjun made you dinner and cleaned up your place while you were out

you’re feeling nervous about a big job interview? he got you flowers to wish you good luck

stuff like that

I also feel like someone somewhere said that Hyeongjun is really good with dates?

idk maybe I’m gaslighting myself into thinking that

but he never never forgets anything!

birthdays, anniversaries, important events- he’s there

I also think a lot about the one Knock Down Debate that they did where Hyeongjun yelled at the others because they never pick up their phones when he calls them

so hey, at least he’s good at communication in that aspect

I don’t think Hyeongjun is one for pet names

I literally cannot picture him calling someone a pet name, but I could easily be wrong

if he did I feel like they would be simple

“honey”

“love”

“sweetie”

short and sweet stuff

he gets flustered easily if you call him something though!

I feel like it would be really easy to fluster him

STOOOPP imagine Hyeongjun meeting your pets

forget about your family- let this man meet your cat

okay but fr this man is sweating buckets meeting your family

he’s afraid that they would think he’s too quiet or too boring :(

but once they get to know him and once he warms up to them that’s obviously not true!

I mean, come on, look at the way that man can shred on the guitar. there is not a boring bone in his body

he’s a kiss on the cheek typa guy

no big fancy gestures

just something cute, simple, and sweet

he actually doesn’t strike me as a big gesture guy at all?

no wait let me explain

let me cook

not big on PDA, not the best with words, and he wouldn’t feel like his acts of kindness are very big

like, he let you hold on to kkito while he was away for a few days so you wouldn’t miss him- why are you crying?

ugh I wanna squeeze him :(

he will come to you with any sort of problem no matter how big or how small

he trusts you completely

he would literally be your friend first and your boyfriend second

Hyeongjun strikes me as the type to not need affection much, but when he does he’s a little nervous to ask

“Jun, what’s wrong?”

“I need a hug.” :(

you almost don’t hear him but y’all are so close that you can figure it out

you can basically read his mind

I feel like a relationship with Hyeongjun would go slow, and that’s okay!

why mess with perfection 😉

no need to rush first kisses or first I love yous

you’re just having fun together!

HE MAKES A PLAYLIST OF SONGS THAT REMIND HIM OF YOU 😭😭😭😭

“This song played in the restaurant during our first date.”

“This song was stuck in my head right before you kissed me for the first time.”

“This song was-“ STOP IT I can’t do this anymore

ALWAYS makes sure you’re taking care of yourself

making sure you eat meals and get enough rest

he’s so open minded!

I feel like he has strong opinions, but he’s chill with most things?

those two things literally cancel out but whatever

he buys clothes that he also thinks you would like in case you want to steal them 😼

pays very close attention to detail!

no new haircut or nail color goes unnoticed!

he draws little pictures of you in his sketchbook all the time :(

loving Hyeongjun is gentle, calm, and fun- like sitting in the grass on a sunny day

no pressure, no rush, just you two having fun being together 🩷

god I love him so much

taglist: @dazzlingligth , @mini-mews , @mxlly143 , @somethingaboutcheese , comment to be added!⁎⁺˳✧༚

#xdinary heroes x reader #xdinary heroes imagine #xdh x reader #xdh imagines #xdh fluff #junhan x reader

[prettiestboyev]

FAN ( 2 ) apology accepted

tw cockblock joke? ahah + cloud9 fighting over gg's. none of those opinions are my own, just comments ive seen under kpop tiktoks

You breathed in and out, walking up to Han as you heard a little cheer from your members. You ignored them, slightly tapping on his shoulder as he turned back.

His other group members seemed to have been somewhere else, since he was alone.

"Hey uh-, Jisung, right?" You gave your best smile to him as he smiled back warmly though it seemed forced.

He nodded. "Yes, and you're S/N?" He asked back and you nodded. "I wanted to ask a favor - if it's not too much." You asked him.

"Go ahead, what's up?"

"So- uh, well, I wanted to know if you knew where Felix was?" You asked.

He seemed to be a bit taken aback. "Why? Wanna ask him out or somethin'?" He chuckled as you shook your head as soon as he said that.

"No! Not at all- it's just, I wanted to tell him something." You said. "I bumped into him earlier, and I was a bit rude to him.. 'wanted to apologize is all."

"Oh, yeah, he told us." Your heart dropped.

So he DID take it as rude.

How did you manage to upset the literal people who inspired you to debut!? Goodness..

"He's at the bathroom with Minho-hyung and Innie." He told.

You nodded, as a thank-you.

You walked over to the bathroom, seeing Felix alone for a minute. "Uh, hey?" You let out a softer than usual voice, probably from nerves.

He looked at you, a little less warm than usual, but it was kinda expected.

"I- I am so sorry for what happened earlier- I didn't mean to be rude and stuff- I was actually so nervous because you are like one of the people who literally inspired me to debut and I am sosososo sorry-"

He laughed. "S/N, it's fine!"

You stayed quiet, you were quite the blabbermouth after all. Though most of your fans saw it as a charming part of you.

"I forgive you, really, things like that happen. I was just kinda sad because you're also a really big idol for me." WHAT?

"M-me?" You pointed at yourself. "Psh- You don't have to say all that!"

He chuckled. "It's true. I have like almost all your songs on my playlist. I also adored your solo album! Especially your-"

You were about to faint.

Heaven is actually not eternal, because the moment was interrupted.

"...CLOUD9!" The announcer yelled, the voice rang throughout the room.

You waved quickly, "Thank you so much!" as you ran to meet up with your group onstage.

What a cockblock. But k-pop idol version.

previous | masterlist | next

a/n i actually like this chapter, anyway the social media in smau is finally ab to start everyone cry of happinesss

taglist @luvyeni @tenmii

#FAN ─ SKZ SMAU #skz smau #skz au #skz x reader #idol!reader skz #skz fake texts #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids smau #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids

[j-oneseungz]

stars above | han jisung

genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, sentimental as fuck, slight angst because both of them are dumb in love your honor

warning(s): some swearing

word count: 1.3K

…

“I’m telling you Jisung. I can’t fucking sleep for shit.”

The young man you call your best friend giggles through the phone. “Hey hey hey. You were the one who wanted brown sugar milk tea boba with 100% sweetness.”

“Yet you were the one enabling me.”

“Aweee. It can’t be that bad. We can like go stargazing and contemplate our mortal existence.” You swear this man will be the death of you with all his teasing.

You respond, “Don’t you ever get tired of stargazing Sung?” You know of his little habit of staying up late on some nights to watch the twinkling constellations and the enigmatic moon. He has a telescope in his room that he would take when he would escape into the wonders of the night to admire the beauty of the dark, moon-lit, star-lit sky.

He smiles to himself. “Never.” Because the stars remind me of you. He held those words back, knowing they would scare you away and friendship over.

Unbeknownst to you, he secretly held feelings for you. He never gets tired of stargazing because all of the stars above remind him all of you. People say how the moon is in love with the sun although Jisung thinks the contrary. You were the stars. His stars. He was the moon. You were the stars surrounding the moon. The moon feels not just the Earth’s proximity but all of the stars in the galaxy whether they are close or millions of light years away. Your presence can always be felt wherever he goes which is why everything reminds him of you. From breezy summer winds to late night hot chocolates to dumb Valentine meme cards to unwise money spending on boba, it all goes back to you.

Though he has all these feelings inside of him, he would rather not spill a speck of what he feels about you.

“Jisung? You there? Are we still stargazing?” He snaps back to reality.

He clears his throat, trying to get his thoughts together. “Uhh yeah. I’ll pick you up in five.”

True to his word, he arrived punctually. You bundled yourself in one of your many blankets as you waddled to his car. He thought you looked cute doing so. Once you opened the door, you saw him dressed in his favorite black hoodie and quokka beanie. Heh, cute you thought. His hair has gotten longer and some of it was perfectly framing his pretty face.

“You good?” His voice brings you back from the very spell he has entranced you in.

“Huh? Yeah I’m good.” You try your best to mask the nervousness in your voice.

“You know. With the look you were giving to me, I would have thought you were in love with me,” he jokes.

This man is so aggravating. Your eyes roll and you playfully punch him on the shoulder, making him hiss in pain. “OW!!! You do know violence is not the answer.”

“Oh hush you. Now let’s go. Wouldn’t want Cassiopeia waiting.”

“Just an FYI, Orion is my favorite constellation,” he huffs and sticks out his tongue. Of course you knew Orion was his favorite. You just wanted to annoy him like he annoys you.

The ride to his favorite open field was quiet aside from the songs playing from his night drive playlist. God it was hard keeping your eyes away from him as he drives. Of course this was not the first time he drove you. It’s just that… he’s just… AUGH. Fuck. You can’t even say shit to him.

Unbeknownst to him, you secretly held feelings for him too. No matter how much you annoy him or “complain” about him dragging you to stargazing, you know damn well just how much you deeply love him inside and out. Every single time he would take you stargazing, your feelings would exponentially go deeper than it was before. You didn’t know how that was even possible. He shows a side to you where you get to intimately know him fully. Every single day is a gift being with someone like him. Which is why you would rather be selfish with your feelings than losing him forever when the cat is out of the bag. At least that was what you thought.

The open field with freshly cut grass fills your senses with the Earthy scent of grass and the cold, gentle breeze of the night. Jisung takes his telescope from the trunk and follows you to the middle of the field.

“Looks like it’s a great night tonight. No clouds can be seen so far,” he says as he sets up the telescope.

“It does feel like a great night,” you blurted while admiring the crescent moon.

Both of you silently observe the starry sky with the lone moon. No words can describe what you both feel at this very moment. It’s such an indescribable feeling. You both share the feeling of awe when appreciating the jewels of the galaxy. That shared sentiment alone makes the moment so intimate even without uttering a single word. Even without hands touching each other.

After minutes of silence between you two, you both observe something moving in the sky. More and more of them started to move too.

“Oh my god shooting stars! Make a wish Ji! Make a wish!” you squeal in delight.

And so both of you closed your eyes and wished under the shooting stars. Jisung opens one of his eyes to steal a little glance of you before continuing his wish.

Unsurprisingly, both of you wished for the same thing; the courage to confess to each other without ruining your friendship.

Moments later, you opened your eyes. “So what did you wish for Ji?”

“Nuh uh it’s a secret,” he asserts, trying his best not to appear worried.

“You can tell meee. I’m your best friend, remember.”

“No.” He sticks out his tongue.

You prepare your pleading eyes to make him more pliant. “Pleaseeee.”

“No.”

Jisung finally gives up and sighs, “Okay fine. Fine. But don’t freak out okay.”

“But why would I freak out?” Did he wish to be together with someone? Is he gonna confess that he likes another person?? Fuck.

“Remember when I told you about how the moon is in love with the stars rather than the sun?”

You nod and chuckle, “But isn’t the sun also a star?”

“I know I know but listen. Listen carefully because I don’t want to repeat my words again.” He takes a deep breath and holds your hands. “I’m the moon Y/N and you’re the stars. My stars. I’m completely, deeply in love with you.”

And that’s when your eyes widen to a confession you would have never expected yet something you’ve been wishing for to the universe. Your eyes sparkle, resembling that of a shining star. “So how does your confession tie to your wish?”

“I-uh well I wished to have the courage to confess to you.” He was getting red like a tomato. “I guess it came true.”

“You know what’s funny Han Jisung?” He looks at you like he was a deer in the headlights. You usually only use his full name on a serious occasion. Is she mad? Did I upset her? Does this mean she will reject me? Will we stay—

“I wished for the same thing as you did. It’s just that you beat me to it.” He looks at you with complete shock.

“Are you bullshiting me?”

“No Ji I’m not. I’ve loved you for a while now.” You let out a mirthful laugh. Your thumb rubs on his skin to reassure him. “May I ask you a question?”

“Yes. What is it?”

“May I kiss you?”

He smiles so endearingly at you that you could explode like a supernova. “Of course you can.”

And so you got on your tippy toes to capture his lips with yours. It was a kiss you have been anticipating for months now. It was a kiss under the stars. A kiss under the waning crescent. You wouldn’t mind getting lost in his kiss every night.

…

A/N: This has been in the drafts for just a bit. I got some time to finalize it. Hopefully you enjoy the read!

#j-oneseungz writes #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids blurbs #stray kids drabbles #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz blurbs #skz drabbles #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung blurbs #han jisung drabbles #han scenarios #han imagines #han blurbs #han drabbles #jisung scenarios #jisung imagines #jisung blurbs #jisung drabbles #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #skz fic

[sunboki]

— START TO FINISH a Han Jisung fiction

🧸 : Han Jisung x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, forced friendship, friends to lovers, angst, fluff

WORD COUNT. 6.2k ☆ 31 minute read

WARNINGS. lots of cursing, underage drinking(reader & han are 18, legal drinking age in korea is 19), making up, reader punches someone

AUG'S NOTES. i know i know, after so long the fic is finally here!(thank goodness) and i just remembered how @geneziesm was excited for this back in.. february?? so apologies for the wait sweetness, hope you don’t mind that i changed our love interest from changbin to jisung :’) btw, the cabin they’re staying in looks like this

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. From start to finish. That’s how you ended things with Han Jisung, starting with your fist balled up and ending with a slam right to his cheek. Or so you hoped. “I mean, they’re just kids, what could they do?” Was what both of your parents said as they spoke over the phone without you knowing. Without either of you knowing you learned later on, luggage in hand as you stared at the dangling road sign beside the cabin’s entrance. Gangwon Cabin, the place you’d be occupying with Han Jisung, your mortal enemy, for two months. It could be worse.. right? No. This was the worst it could be.

or alternatively :

Two months ago you were certain you’d hate Han Jisung forever, but what about now?

You’re. Fucking. Kidding me.

"You take one step into this room and I cut off every limb attached to your body, understood?" Is what you hissed at the boy who looked too smug standing in front of you.

"Awe, aren’t you just the sweetest?"

"Better yet, I could cut off your tongue."

"The more the merrier." He stuck out his tongue connivingly, earning a hard slam of the door right in the face.

You don’t care if you have to slam that door a billion more times to escape from him, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

Your only priority for these two months? Avoid Han Jisung at all costs.

Han Jisung is the boy that ate sand as a kid. You’re sure of it.

You’ve convinced yourself he somehow ate enough sand to where it creeped up into his brain and made him into a complete asshole for the rest of his life. A shame, really.

You didn’t know if that was true or not —though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was— but the theory served as a decent explanation of why he acted like an absolute piece of shit… For the most part.

Honestly, the hatred was sort of mutual. If you define mutual as in unspoken glares across the classroom and his malice-filled smile glittering right back at you, then yeah, mutual.

Starting from the moment you stepped into Mr. Jeong’s class and took your seat beside him, a blazing electric bolt strung itself between you two. And despite being unsure why, the bolt grew stronger without sign of stopping, alighting hatred and dislike.

Was it fair carrying the burning grudge? Not at all, but if Han Jisung kept egging you on like he always did, it would stay that way.

Except what was once anger noticed by only you quickly escalated into heated, gas-lit arguments the entire school heard—because Han Jisung found the perfect timing every time. Heavy on the sarcasm.

Best example? You had utterly bombed your chemistry midterm, one you tirelessly studied for as well when a shadow loomed over your desk belonging to none other than the Devil’s offspring himself (if you guessed anyone other than Han Jisung, you’re dead wrong).

"I wouldn’t recommend crying in class, but that grade is pretty shitty so if you need a shoulder, I've gotcha sweetheart." He cockily pats his shoulder while sending you a wink, and you couldn’t believe someone would so blatantly ask for a broken nose, yet here you are.

Trust that your list of reasons to plan a burial for the seat-mate goes on as long as you breathe.

And apparently, whatever chemical reaction you’d fucked up during the exam turned out to be highly explosive on a Friday afternoon, unfortunately without the addition of Han’s broken nose. You were close though.

That day he picked. Picked and picked and picked enough that your fist found itself smashed against his jaw, the boy’s hand immediately coming up to shield the wound. Instantaneously, the classroom became noiseless apart from the sound of blood pumping in your ears and Jisung’s heavy breathing.

"Han Jisung, Ln Yn, go to the office. Now!" Mr. Jeong called from the doorway, noticeably out of breath from his brambled hair and glasses askew upon his nose.

The customary lecture about how you should "never resort to violence" was nothing new for the both of you, Counselor Kim’s furious tapping of her foot reflecting the glare she burned your way. From the other side of the room Han sat on the patient-bed, a bandage sized to his cheek covering where you’d unapologetically swung all your frustration. You had zero remorse and would continue to have zero remorse. Forever.

"For the love of god what are you two standing there for?! Apologize. This. Instant!" And with the final crack in her flaming attitude she stomped out the door, fanatically shaking her head with dismay.

Ravaging every advantage, you sauntered towards the boy, releasing a heavy sigh just to announce your 'sincerity' first and foremost. Now was prime time to sugar him up, and you’d be sure not to take it for granted.

Stepping forward, you lift your head to deliver a faux smile.

"I’m so sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you leading up to this, especially after punching you in a spot that won’t heal for a long time because you never deserved that and most definitely did nothing wrong." Delighted to finally be pushing his buttons just as he did yours, you plaster the most guilty expression you can manage, voice dripping with lies.

Jisung breathes a rather bored sigh.

"Nice try."

Geesh, he’s exasperating. Take a hit for once, why don’t you.

"You want me to pray for your forgiveness or what?" Managing to omit the derogatory nickname attached to your sentence, you spare a hasty glance at Ms. Choi, the nurse who every other male at the school had a crush on. She types into her laptop at an alarming pace—fortunately either ignoring or oblivious to your brewing cat-fight.

The boredom appears to leave him instantly for a reason you couldn’t guess. Regardless, you knew it meant bad news.

Exasperating. He is unbearably exasperating.

"'Didn’t think you were that in love with me, but no. I want you to give me a kiss," Using the hand he’d previously ran through his hair, he pointed to his cheek. "Right here."

Is no one else hearing this? He’s not serious .. right? And why are your hands sweaty?

"Bullshit."

Aha, there’s the usual Oxford graduate vocabulary. Let’s hope Ms. Choi didn’t hear anything.

"Sadly. Worth a try though." Jisung deflates, swinging his legs around aimlessly. He’s daring from a point you can’t figure out. His inability to piss you off is easy to discover, but there’s something else there—a word your finger keeps skipping over.

Then suddenly, in the midst of observing your lost-in-thought expression, he piques with realization. By the time you notice, all your earlier remorse voluntarily throws itself out the window. Not that there was any remorse anyway. Definitely.

"Wait- don’t tell me you’re actually going to apologize, hold on I need to record this—"

"SHUT UP! I’m leaving, have a good evening Ms. Choi." The poor woman jumped out of her skin, shakily bowing farewell as you stormed from the infirmary, seething rage billowing out both ears.

Your walk home lasted much longer than usual, probably because you didn’t even want to step foot on the property; wanted to savor every moment of fresh air before seeing your parents in their fury glittering glory.

Unbeknownst to you, they’d already gotten the call—four hours ago, to be exact. Though you didn’t realize that’s how long you’d been procrastinating, and neither did Han Jisung, who was doing the same thing.

Except while you walked around killing time, he occupied a swing at the old neighborhood playground, humming a tune to himself.

So as you turned the corner, the last person you expected to be there was there, seeming quite aloof as he gazed off into the distance.

"What’re you doing?"

You swore he leaped a solid foot into the air, hand frantically clutched to his chest as if you were the doctor telling him he wasn’t allowed to jack off anymore.

"Jesus! You scared me. I should ask you the same thing," Han grumbled, lips pulled into a taut pout.

This momentary peacefulness, or whatever isn’t hostility occupying the space between you is gross considering you’d socked him mere hours earlier, still able to make out the light bruising scattered along his jaw.

You kick off some of the mulch lingering atop your shoelaces. "Procrastinating going home, you?"

Laughing bitterly, Han settles back into the swing. "I guess that’s something we can agree on," He says, causing you to sort of falter.

Sadness lingers in his tone and you can’t decipher it, not when your average Han Jisung would be rearing to tease you. Instead, he remains quiet enough that when your phone buzzes in your pocket, you flinch.

"I’ve gotta go. This is the eighteenth time she’s called, I wish I was joking." You breathe through your nose, staring at your mom’s number flickering atop the screen.

Why you even dismissed yourself you don’t know. It was Han Jisung, why did you bother? You should’ve acted spiteful and left him at that. But you couldn’t. Not when he seemed so.. miserable. You staved down the gnawing guilt.

"What color do you want to wear in your casket, I’ll be sure to tell your parents."

Well there goes any chance of being nice.

"I hate you," You automatically snarl, spewing those words as if they had no weight anymore.

Looks like everything is back to normal, for now.

Currently standing at the doorstep, you thought back to all the excuses you’d used in the past and which one seemed suitable this time around. Which one would, hopefully, secure your life for another day.

There’s the truly heroic "he was insulting you guys! Saying you didn’t raise me right!" that would earn a bit of sympathy, or maybe you could even go bigger and say he was threatening to rob you and— the door opened. Shit.

"Come in! Tell me about your day at school." Your mother, strangely enough, smiled.

Okay. What the fuck is going on. Where’s the berating and disowning threat, seriously.

"Aren’t you mad?" You skittishly ask, only receiving a swift jerk of her head signaling for you to come in.

Hence, you tentatively, like an ax would strike you at any moment, obediently tip-toe into the living room, glancing around cautiously.

She finds her spot on the couch beside your dad and you nonchalantly shift a good distance from the two, just to be safe.

Who knows, perhaps they’d planned collaborative man-slaughter.

"Oh no, we’re livid, but we talked about it and have a fantastic idea that we’re sure will help!" Help what, you’re not sure. All you know is that this cannot possibly end well. 

Your ungodly hour wake up was the first unfortunate event, basically being shoved into the car to who knows where and before you knew it, the sunlight illuminating the road in front of you became shrouded with shadows of tall alpines looming overhead. They spared no hint as to what their "fantastic idea" was yesterday, so the jury ruling your case as a third-degree murder was only something you could wonder from the backseat. Something you could wonder for a long, long time.

Thankfully, decades later, the vehicle eventually came to a halt and your parents wasted no time shoving you just as easily as they did into the car, outside of the car. Adjusting to the brightness, you find yourself facing a building only definable as a cabin from the wooden exterior and forest surroundings.

A creative collaborative homicide, definitely.

"We’re here~" Your mom calls from the passenger seat, helping unload stuffed suitcases from the trunk.

Suitcases. Lovely.

Alright, staying here for a while doesn’t sound too bad aside from the feeding yourself part. Yogiyo Food Delivery could find their way here, surely. You’d just have to give a generous tip, that’s all.

Clapping her hands together a little too excitedly, the woman pats your shoulder, gesturing to the abundant amount of luggage your dad heaved to the entrance, or wherever the rickety door leads.

Hold on, whose car is that parked beside yours?

Almost like she read your mind, her brows lift cartoonishly as you follow the click of a car door opening in unison.

"Oh! Right! Now we wanted to make sure this would be beneficial for both of you, so we invited Han’s parents to have him stay with you for these two months!"

Haha.

You’re dreaming. This is all a dream. Because Han Jisung did not just get out of that Kia, and she did not just say two months.

Automatically, your hands fly into the air, willing to battle your way out of this one if that’s what it takes.

"You’re leaving me here? Are you serious-what’re you-Hey! Don’t drive away!" Before you can open your mouth the two cars back out of the dirt road without so much as a goodbye to the children they’d utterly abandoned, might you add the children that wanted nothing more than to bury each other a day ago.

And so, the two months of summer hell began.

..Albeit, out of all your troubles, the scenery wasn’t too hellish opposed to the internal screaming echoing around your skull.

Instead, serene, comfortable sound consumed the wilderness surrounding the cabin, filling your ears with the hum of evening birdsong and water trickling from the river below. At least that part was tolerable.

You perch on the edge of the railing and listen, trying to distract yourself from your mind for a moment—allowing you to bask in a billion thoughts you wished to drown out.

Han had already gone inside without even a hello (not that you expected one), seeming to feel the same amount of hopelessness as you did after hearing your fate. Peaceful, until the creaking patio door opening rips every inch of calmness right out of your grasp.

"The view is nice, isn’t it."

Stop it. Stop talking like we’re friends. It’s not normal. We are not normal.

The sensible part of your mind tells you this is how people that don’t go for the throat talk, but you can’t convince yourself to communicate like that. Not with your history, not now.

"Nice without you interrupting me." Your grip tightened on the fence supporting you, refusing to even spare him a glance in fear of watching disappointment flood his frontal. You’d stab a stake through your chest before succumbing to him, before sympathizing his feelings.

"I’m going inside," you mouth, quickly slipping past him through the half-open door without another word.

Unforgiving. You are both very unforgiving. Or maybe it’s you, unable to forget about your grievances, unable to let go. For a second—closing the door behind you—you fear you’ll never be able to let go.

Radio silence inhabits the aged home, and you both hurry off to separate sides to digest everything’s awfulness in your own, unique ways. Han resorts to strumming the acoustic guitar he’d stuffed in his bag before leaving Seoul, and you, well, you cope, furiously pacing the room until exhaustion overtakes your limbs and you pitifully flop onto the floor.

The suitcases will have to rot outside tonight because leaving this spot, no less passing by the living area, meant Han Jisung exposure, the last thing your sour mood needed. You rationalize—you really do—but fleeting thoughts and whatever keeps itching your leg steal your chance of thinking positively.

Wait.

Alternatively, during what he assumes to be your sulking-about-how-life-isn’t-fair session, Han’s daily mug of coffee (the one he’d missed out on due to being forced up at the asscrack of dawn) was cut short thanks to a shrill scream. He hurriedly placed his beverage on the counter, racing to where you stood glued to the wall of the hallway, finger shakily pointing to a bug crawling along the floor.

Mischievously, Han crossed his arms over his chest, surveying the chaos that could ensue with a simple request. This was already off to a great start.

Why not get his fair share? Toying with you was way too fun after all.

"Y’know, there’s a great way to deal with this." He takes his last swig of caffeine while you basically crawl into your skin, impossibly backing up further from the skittering insect.

"And what would that be?"

Rookie mistake. He can tell you’re aware of exactly what he’s going to say next, already two steps behind him before you realize you can do anything about it. What to choose, what to choose.

Then, Ding! A marvelous idea strikes.

"I’ve always imagined the nickname Sungie would sound cute coming from you," he sings, dreadful anticipation vividly apparent. He’s having a blast.

Wrinkling your nose, your glare radiates nothing but red-hot animosity, patience walking a thin wire. Han loves every bit of it.

"What the hell are you talking abou—"

"You might wanna say it, that beetle is getting closer," He says, voice laced with devilish intent.

Unfortunately for you, life and death were the only ways to get through this. Naturally, you leaned closer to choosing death for the sake of your reputation, but life had to be an asshole and shatter your ego into a billion tiny pieces last minute.

"FUCK- Sungie- kill it now!" You shout, releasing a very frustrated scream you’re certain could’ve topped Regina George’s.

Beneficial? She called this beneficial?

"I knew it’d be cute,” He snickered, instantly covering the god-forbidden demon with his empty cup and grinning up at you with crescent moon eyes as if he hadn’t brutally manipulated your terror seconds before.

You hate him. Hate him hate him hate him.

God. You wanted to cry.

. ..

Jisung would’ve loved to see your reaction if he caused a ruckus so early, but he was being nice this morning, carefully traveling around the kitchen island to fill his thermos with water when he dropped the metal bottle and the loudest, most blaring screech echoed around the entire house.

Truthfully, it was an accident. Truthfully.

You wouldn’t believe him.

Not even a minute later, low and behold, the adorable grumpiness identified as you peeked out from a blanket burrito, noticeably seething from your bedroom door.

"It’s five in the morning you lunatic, what is so important that you’re leaving at five in the morning," you grumble, instinctively pulling your blanket tighter when he approached.

"You really want me to stay with you that badly, honey? All you had to do was ask~" You tiredly push away his kissy face leering close, clad in pajamas and not quite awake enough to put up with him.

He twirls the keys, stopping to dramatically blow you a kiss in the process.

"'M going on a run, don’t miss me too much,” Jisung waved, and with the click of the door closing behind him, he’s gone to who knows where.

His cockiness makes you roll your eyes as you begin whipping up some form of breakfast to satiate your stomachs complaints, knowing your chances of going back to bed were slim to nothing due to being woken up so mercilessly.

If he dropped what sounded to be a iron pipe to wake you up, thinking about what his next "alarm clock" would be gives you goosebumps. Yep. No going back to sleep for you.

Except the minute hand ticks by, and what used to be a short run turns into an uneasy feeling by the time the third hour rolls around.

Three hours and twenty minutes.. Three hours and thirty minutes.. Three hours and forty minutes..

Screw it, you’ll go looking for him.

"Jisung? Jisung, where are you!" Your shouting has to have echoed around the entirety of Gangwon at this point, stopping to catch your breath on the side of the never ending dirt pathway. Miles and miles you scour, gradually reaching a bench covered by a willow tree where you slump down, enjoying the swift moment of rest.

What you hadn’t expected enjoying your much needed break was to find the exact boy you were searching for, lying fast asleep in the shade.

Covering your mouth to mute your gasp, a string of mumbled curses fall off your tongue as you get up from your spot and hesitantly approach the sleeping beauty.

Oh so slowly you sit down in the grass, paying attention not to make too much noise from the crunchy leaves.

"It’s not fair that you’re pretty even when napping," You mutter, infatuated by his mesmerizing looks that seem to glow in the minimal light emerald leaves reflect.

That is, before his eyelashes dust and you noisily rush to your feet, flushing pink at an alarming pace. The prince-like beings' cheeks puff, blinking rapidly to clear the sleepy haze.

"Huh? Y/n, when did you get here? You’re red; are you okay—"

"Yeah. C’mon." You speed-walked ahead despite Jisung calling out for you to slow down, terrified he’d seen you or, worse, heard the things you’d said.

He stalls to pick up something and you experimentally glance back, noting a green color visible through the plastic bag he held. What’s inside is only recognizable by the clinking of glass colliding together.

"Did.. did you- is that…" Words pour without making sense, squinting accusingly at the bit of a label you can see reading "Chum Churum Soju."

Your bewilderment keeps you planted to the ground, scrolling through your mental list of possibilities explaining why it couldn’t be alcohol. And suddenly you genuinely question if Han’s delinquency appeared outside of school as well.

Surely, because the smirk painting his features when he caught sight of your shocked expression left no room to wonder.

"Won't it be fun?" He shakes the bag. "We’re irresponsible highschoolers anyways, and the grandma working there said it has the best flavor this time of year."

So that’s how he managed to get by without an ID. Of course.

Problem? One, you’re underage. Two, who knows if someone found out. Three, you had no goddamn clue what you were like drunk, and the last thing you wanted to happen was a detrimental mistake under the influence with Jisung. Everything about this foreshadowed disaster, how he couldn’t figure that part out was beyond you.

Or maybe he wanted disaster to strike, maybe it was all a part of his plan, the cherry on top to ruin your life permanently.

Yeah, you’re not letting even a drop enter your system.

"Aigoo— don’t cry," Han whines, obviously a bit tipsy, though compared to you who’s almost completely wasted (rocking back and forth while spilling nonsense to nobody in particular), he’s basically sober.

It was an accident, you swear. You couldn’t help it, he called you a coward and dared you to a drinking contest that put your precious pride on the line—leading into this shithole of a situation in the first place. Backing down meant ultimate defeat, and knowing you had at least three more weeks stuck here narrowed down the last option available.

"'M not crying asshat.." You sob, hand feebly hitting the table in a pitiful show of aggression. Your brain is fuzzy and everything feels so weird and dizzying. Then you feel it.

Oh no. Word vomit. You can’t stop it.

"I just don’t think it’s fair, Jisung," You blurt, Han blinking tiredly upon hearing his name. "You have such a pretty face for such an awful person."

You’re babbling now, blurily viewing multiple emotions unfold prior to opening his mouth. You guess in some way he heard what you said below the willow tree, even as a drunk confession.

"You.. You think I have a pretty face?" Though seconds after he finishes speaking you lean across the table to press your index against his lips, the boy’s eyes growing to the size of saucers.

"Shut uppp, I don’t wanna hear your voice, ever." Interrupting the question, you wobble to your feet, grip fumbling on the chilled door knob before blindly plowing into the room and collapsing on your mattress.

Meanwhile, Jisung attempts to stop you. Keyword: attempts. He does, almost there, and then the carpet trips him somehow (his own way of pretending he didn’t slip over nothing) and he’s kissing the floor, exhaustion immediately numbing his entire alcohol-ridden body till he succumbs to oh so welcoming sleep.

Gasping awake, a rampaging headache greets his skull, unevenly carrying himself to grab a barely there cup of water that’ll hopefully ease some tension. He assumes this must be a hangover, and man, it’s more of a pain than he thought.

The Jisung back in Seoul wouldn’t be able to fathom getting drunk at noon before ending up here, a place that was certainly not home. Well, the Jisung back in Seoul wouldn’t be able to fathom getting drunk at noon along with waking up on the floor, being stuck in this place with you, and an entire collection of things he couldn't name off the top of his head.

Being completely honest, he’s amazed he hadn’t slept the rest of the day and night after earlier, filled with crude small talk and stolen alcohol sipped from styrofoam cups. And you calling him pretty, that too.

Said styrofoam cups scatter in disarray all over the floor, evidence of how drunk you’d both got that painted quite an impressively messy picture.

There’s not much to see staring through the fogged window; Gangwon’s relentless humidity leading to a nearly impossible view of the lake outside. Though he doesn’t mind. In fact, knowing that no one can find him here, you and him, isn’t too bad. No teachers looming over him, nor were his parents reprimanding him for grades slightly below perfect.

Although in the midst of his headspace, a floorboard creaks exceptionally loud and you stand, rocking back and forth on your heels and gazing at him through half-lidded eyes he can’t quite read. What he distinctly spotted, however, was the smile casually gracing your lips. A dreamy, loopy smile that told him something wasn’t exactly normal.

"Sungie.."

Han cranes to hear what you say, bewildered by the nickname you swore to never utter. Were you still drunk? You had to be, or you wouldn’t have approached him with open arms like that to bury your head into his chest where he feared you’d hear his hammering heartbeat—frozen stiff as a board with your arms wrapped around him.

"Are.. are you still drunk?" Han timidly asks and you absentmindedly groan before your movement stops, the boy doing a double take in case you managed to pass out buried in his clothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he pulled you off of him, body curled in disgust due to the saliva staining his t-shirt where your face had been.

Yep. You had fully passed out while hugging him.

"Wow, how much did you have to drink again?" Laughing to himself, he struggles guiding you to the couch to sit down without stumbling over each other.

Propping a pillow behind your head, the boy hesitates, feeling a sort of déjà vu he can’t make sense of. Though quickly enough, he shakes off the phenomenon and begins raising up, but a softness threading through his fingers stops him in his tracks for a second time, and he has to blink multiple times to register what was happening.

Although appearing passed out still, your hand found its way to reach for his, holding onto his pinky so lightly, so carefully. The boy's heart pounded, collecting all of his self control to refrain from making decisions he'd regret.

"Stop. We can’t." Sentence trembling on his tongue, he steadily pulled away, nearly wincing when you shifted slightly.

You were only dreaming, you never would have done this if you were awake, he reminded himself, glancing back to where you lie once more as if you’d magically spring up and announce your undying love for him. Did he want that to happen? No, he’s just joking, just a joke. Right.

It hurts, he can’t name why.

He prays you don’t remember.

"Please tell me why it’s so freaking cold in the middle of July," You mumble to nobody, spotting your cell mate’s cabin mate’s backside crouched over the fire pit. What he busied himself doing you couldn't guess, unpredictably unpredictable.

Curiously, you shuffle to the window, observing the charcoal he added before flicking the lighter and setting the lumber ablaze, flames licking at the dark sky above. Starting at age ten you learned curiosity killed the cat, but never did you think it killed humans as well. That was, prior to Jisung noticing you watching him. Astonishingly, however, he motioned for you to come out, refraining from the average jerk behavior on this occasion.

Unpredictably unpredictable, like you said.

"Have you given up yet? Hating me, I mean." Appearing beside the lawn chair you had cozied into, he tossed a few additional branches into the brewing flames, dropping down to warm his hands. Apparently, you don’t remember. Only Jisung would realize that.

"You talk about it like it’s a choice." Stuffing your hands inside your coat pockets, you avoid him per routine. Confidence comes easier that way, especially with him—someone you’re weak for.

You’d never admit that.

"It’s not?"

Your tongue pokes at the flesh of your cheek, ticked.

"You don’t seem to understand the hell I go through every day I come to school. Han Jisung, you give me every reason to hate you," You state coldly, fists clenching and unclenching where he can’t see.

This argument is fearful. You both glare at anything but each other, turning away from mere face-to-face contact in fear you’d apologize. Jisung is always first to look, first to try understanding.

Those times are never noticed by you, someone who doesn’t give in.

"But we're not in school anymore; we’re free in a cabin in the middle of Gangwon. So could you at least pretend to not hate me?" He looks. Looks at each minuscule twitch of your mouth, the soft cupid's bow perfectly carving your lips. Han scolds himself. He gets lost in you sometimes, a habit. Times that he’s glad you avoid him, unlike now, desperately needing you to see.

"Pretend? Did you say pretend? You’re fucking insane thinking I can just pretend nothing has happened. You think I can walk away from all this like it’s nothing, because I'm nice and sweet and do anything for anybody? You’re heartless, Jisung."

The boy hastily clutched onto the sleeve of your puffer jacket as you got up, fanning flames revealing your broken expression.

You shakily inhale, tears unconsciously slipping down your cheeks. This is the last thing you wanted, to end up crying in front of him. But here you are, walls crumbling down.

"Stop trying to make us right when we’ll lead to a bad ending."

You tremble and his grip loosens automatically, lingering there.

"Look at me."

"Let me go."

"Look at me, please."

You foolishly look like he did. Look and note how deep the pools of dusky caramel dancing in his eyes are. Look and pinpoint the mole residing on the right side of his face, effortlessly close to pretty pink lips. Look and admire the sweet curve of his eyes complimented by the shape of his brows, furrowed with sadness that match the tone you’d heard that day you found him on the swing.

You curse your hiccuping, delving into the softness of his palm while his thumb delicately swipes your tears. He’s warm. Han Jisung, though you never thought you’d say it, is warm to the touch.

"We’re not leading to a bad ending, Y/n. You want a bad ending because of what I’ve done, so you can feel like your anger is justified. This is my fault, and I’ll take responsibility, so give me a chance to fix it and quit burdening yourself because of my mistakes, okay?" He tips his head, tenderly caressing the delicate tear-stained skin beneath your lower lashes.

Today, tonight, everything you ever believed about Han Jisung was proven wrong.

His perception and his kindness, which you didn’t even know existed, forged through the surface and tore your heart in halves. He’d revealed himself to you and in actuality, he always had; you just closed your eyes.

But today, tonight, he didn’t let you close them; he held them open to see him, see his apology, see his acceptance—and it gave you no choice but to comply, to nod your head and trust him, something you’d never done before.

You take a seat again, yet the stifling company isn't stifling anymore, and a sensation akin to relief floods the brisk air surrounding Gangwon cabin. He brings you tissues and you say thank you, it’s new. He smiles and you smile back, it’s new as well.

You’ve never liked things you were unfamiliar with, but this is okay.

For once, being around Han Jisung feels okay.

"..Did it hurt?"

He blinked, fixating you with a confused stare.

"When I punched you, did it hurt?"

Slowly, his mouth stretched into a grin, chuckling. That’s new too, you think you like it the most so far.

"Like a bitch."

. ..

You’d say your relationship evened out, not finding an incessant need to respond with something even nastier. It was weird at first, coexisting and all. Weird being so friendly, despite the annoying banter paying occasional visits.

Better, better this way.

The moon rose up high in the sky only to settle, and you’d periodically climb to the top of the house in a way Jisung had taught you, hand placed on your back reassuringly as you climbed the cob-web infested windowsill up to the roof. You’d also say that gesture didn’t affect you. You lied.

Nonetheless, the rooftop "dates" helped you appreciate how bright and brilliant the twinkling balls of fire were after being pulled out here where artificial light is infinitely scarce compared to Seoul’s amusement park of electricity.

"That," Jisung points, finger drawing an imaginary line connecting specific stars lighting up the sky. "Is the constellation Cygnus, it’s Greek for swan. When I studied in Malaysia there was a great hill to stargaze, that’s where I learned about them."

You nod, savoring the otherworldly view paired with his voice.

Comfort. He’s comfortable telling you about himself. Your heart feels happy.

"I always thought Lyra and Cygnus would make a good couple," he says, beats of a silence passing before you burst into a fit of giggles, the boy raising up to lean on his elbow appearing quite offended.

A constellation? He thinks constellations would make good couples?

Han Jisung is full of surprises.

"Yah I’m serious! They’d be perfect together! It’d be romantic and sweet and— you’re mean." He whined playfully, suppressing his own laughter noticing how hard you were trying not to laugh.

Quietness, silence if you must, replaces the once child-like conversation. Not the I’m-counting-the-seconds-to-your-funeral type silence that occurred daily prior to your campfire crying/make-up session, but a calm silence.

"Could you imagine what the kids back home would say?" He breathes his words airily whilst admiring your eyes staring up at the sky—twinkling. To him, those eyes hold the galaxy in them. Eyes that weren’t introduced to him until recently, on a night he’s certain he’ll remember for the rest of his life.

"We’re not home, we’re free, like you said." You don’t glance at him and ironically, he can’t stop gazing at you. You move and he watches, enraptured by this. Whatever this may be.

Ah, he’s staring again. Lost in you again.

Abruptly, your dramatic sputtering successfully pulled his head out of the clouds, splatters of water began to dapple your once dry bodies. But as you prepare to ease down and go inside, he lightly grabs your wrist with a sweet look, convincing you, if only for a few minutes, to stay.

"You’re crazy, Jisung." You laugh, expression breaking into the most breathtaking beam Han had ever seen. If someone were to take a picture of Jisung right now, he’s certain his irises would be heart-shaped. And in that moment he swore he’d never fallen in love harder before. Falling in love he’d write about on pages of a journal, photograph with his polaroid back home. Falling in love soaked with rain on the roof of a cabin, stargazing without clocks to tell you what time it is.

You’re drenched, he’s soaked. He wants to kiss you, you want to kiss him. Then you remember you’re still learning this entire "normal people" concept and he’s supposed to tread carefully when it comes to you, but everything fits so well and your lips sort of connect and you can’t let go.

He wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

Your hands in his hair, his cupping your face, head tilted to gain easier access while leaning against his side. Endlessly close.

Han is like spring, like daffodils blooming their hidden colors deep in a field. You might get frustrated searching, but once you find and pluck the flower from long stalks of grass, its petals will shine eternally.

Rain is pouring, pelting his already messy overalls and leaving strands of ash blond stuck to his forehead, lips pulled so high up he can’t think straight.

He smiles and you do too and things feel right, righter than they had in a long time.

Young kids sure act stupid when you leave them alone for too long.

He wouldn’t take it back for the world.

.. .

"Ready to go?" Referring to the doorway, he waited for you by the door, brown hues carrying emotion you chose not to acknowledge.

"Yeah, um, get home safe and text me sometime, whenever you’re not busy, I mean." He nods a response, stupidly happy face earning your harmless scowl in the process of helping push your luggage through the door.

Different. Remarkably different from how things were before. Two months ago you would’ve hated this, hated anything to do with him.

Different, it was different now. Better, better this way, like during stargazing.

He turned left and you turned right, opposite directions towards where your parents stood, towards the cars that would travel far from here. You’d drive, drive and drive back to Seoul carrying new feelings and new conversation, new love.

And from a peculiar standpoint, Gangwon Cabin was your start to finish with Han Jisung. Starting with a punch to the face and ending in a way you could never have imagined that one summer in high school.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @ren0325 @lix-ables @babrieeee @azurez @soobnny @weird-bookworm @q1sng @telesvng @ren0325 @hello-stranger24

#k labels #kflixnet #skz x reader #straykids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #han jisung #han jisung angst #han jisung fluff #jisung x reader #skz han jisung #jisung han #straykids han #straykids angst #straykids fluff #skz fluff #skz angst #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz han #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst

[chewingchan]

Affection - Chapter Two

Chapter Two of Affection

Synopis: Being in love with your childhood friend wasn’t the best feeling ever, even more so now that he got himself a girlfriend. Moving in with him didn’t seem like the best idea either, but life always brings us the most unexpected gifts.

Content info: Chan x afab reader, Changbin x afab reader, angst/fluff, best friend Chan, brother Felix, roommates Minho and Changbin, Minho x Jisung

Spotify Playlist.

- Seo Changbin! Put the flour down, now!

Living with Chris turned out to be easier than expected, despite the whole girlfriend situation. It took me a while to get used to it, but I’ve always been an expert at hiding my feelings.

What I did not expect were the other two boys that came along with the whole experience.

Changbin Seo is short, full of muscles and extremely whiny. Despite all of that he’s the sweetest boy I have ever met, extraordinarily intelligent and with, as he says, great morals. You can never predict what he’s going to do or say and, more often than not, that was kind of alarming, especially if you’re not used to his chaotic energy. He likes to think that he’s some kind of bad boy, but in reality, he’s just a cute puppy full of energy with a very, and I repeat, VERY loud voice.

- Yah! Stop screaming or I’ll swear I’ll kill you both.

Minho Lee is scary, there’s no doubt in that. He’s the typical cat mom, a total introvert with watchful eyes and a very solid personality (he gets irritated pretty easily too), but once you get to know him, he’s just a soft boy who likes to cook and treat people he loves more often than considered normal, a true tsundere. Oh, I almost forgot! On top of everything, he was the one who brought Soonie, Doongie and Dori to our home along with himself, so that’s a plus!

- Minmin, tell Changbin to stop attacking me, pretty please? I’m trying to bake us red velvet cupcakes! – I begged, trying to pull off a cute expression, even though I had a messy hair and was covered in flour from head to toe. - Sorry, pretty girl. – He winked at me – I’m too busy… Petting Soonie. I’d appreciate a cupcake later though. - Everybody knows you love when I tease you! – Changbin smirked – Stop pretending, pumpkin. - Ok. – I took the bowl out of his hands and winked at him – Keep on dreaming, big boy. - That’s disgusting. – Minho threw himself down on the sofa.

And that’s how our days usually rolled, since Chan was out most of the time. Living with him made me realize maybe I didn’t need him as much anymore, and that made me feel free, on top of all. Changbin and Minho were the family I didn’t know I needed.

- So… I was thinking about bringing Jisung over. – Minho had an uncertain look on his face – Thoughts on that? - Oh my God, finally! – I exclaimed, happily – It was about time! I’m dying to meet the lover boy.

Jisung Han was one of Felix’s closest friends, who turned out to become Minho’s most recent love interest. Changbin and I were extremely surprised by the news when he told us, since Minho isn’t the type to get involved. But the younger boy sure seemed to have stolen the oldest’s heart, leaving him in a dreamy and happy mood almost every single day. It was an understatement to say we were really excited to meet Jisung.

- If I didn’t know you, I would say you were embarrassed to introduce us to him. – Changbin said, always being a tease – Isn’t that right? - Of course I was embarrassed. – Minho tease back, with a serious face – Look at you both, who wouldn’t be? - ANYWAYS, - I intervened before things went further – When is he coming? I can invite Felix too, you know… So he doesn’t feel too uncomfortable, being surrounded with strangers and all. - That sounds like a plan. – Minho seemed relieved – Thanks, I appreciate that. - It’s all good. – I smiled – Do you think Chris will be here too? - At this point, I don’t really know. – Changbin sounded a little disappointed – He doesn’t even talk to me anymore, and guess what? We’re doing projects together. It’s been tough, I’m not gonna lie.

I was sad for Changbin. Chan has been distancing himself from us lately, and none of us wanted to bother nor confront him about it, but it was affecting the relationship of the household, even if it was just a bit. Binnie, being the closest to him AND attending the same classes as Chan, was the most affected by it.

- I’m so sorry, Binnie – I tried to comfort him – I’m sure Chris will come to his senses and…

At that moment, Chan burst through the door, crying and with an angry look on his face.

- Chris? What happened? – I rushed to him. - She cheated on me.

#stray kids scenarios #skz x you #bang chan fluff #felix lee #skz angst #bang chan #changbin #lee know #han jisung #i.n #stray kids #seungmin #hyunjin #skz fic #stray kids x reader #bangchan imagines #friends to lovers

[lynlyndoll]

In my eyes, you the one and only

genre: fluff, angst, idol au

wc: 1.0k

pairing: idol! han x idol! reader

appearances and specifications: ok, so it's basically you and Han, but you are in a group named BeBoom (credit to whoever did the logo of this non-existent group) and one of your members make an appearance. Her name is Hwa, but you can name her however you want though.

an: Okay, had this idea for like, 3 days, but only last night got the inspiration to write it. I listened to NO NAME by Yezi and yes, I thought it fitted I GOT IT, so I do think you should think about NO NAME as the rap you perform. The lyrics are made by me, so if they suck, yall will know that I'm not made to be a lyricist.😔

You and your boyfriend knew each other for as long as you could remember. Your families were neighbors and so, you and him met a lot while being kids. Went to the same school and high school, so meeting up during classes wasn't hard at all. However, you kind of lost connection when he had to leave Malaysia to pursue his dream of being a singer, leaving you behind. You didn't mind it, nor hated him for leaving you, his best friend, alone. You also didn't mind that he was the one who got to train and not you, the one who spent her whole childhood dreaming about becoming an idol. But what you hated was the distance, you hated the fact that you weren't allowed to talk or see each other.

Years went by and somehow, you found yourself in front of a jury from YG entertainment. Your palms were sweaty and you felt as if you were going to pass out. But you wanted this. You wanted to succeed as well and somehow, without thinking too much, you got in. You were accepted in the company and that's how your journey to becoming an idol began. You worked day and night, barely taking a few breaks.

You debuted in 2019, with 6 other girls in a group named BeBoom. You were the main rapper of the group and you couldn't be more proud. Your members were all your friends whom you grew up with. But you did forget one thing. You forgot about Han, about him debuting, about him being your rival, in this hard industry.

Your group's debut made a lot of noise and it was impossible to not know at least about the song VENOM by BeBoom. And for Han, it was no exception. He heard it when he was scrolling down at the new playlist Spotify made for him. He listened to it once or twice before figuring something out. Figuring that a certain voice made him feel nostalgic. He searched for the members and there you were in all your glory. Google showed a picture of you smiling, with your blonde hair with black highlights and red lipstick. It fitted you, he thought, smiling at the picture. He wanted to say it to you, to congratulate you.

And so he did. When both and your group performed at the award show, he contemplated what he should do. Knock on your door or leave you a message, or ask his contacts to find yours. However, he agreed to do it normally. He found your group's cabin. It wasn't too hard since laughter and chaotic sounds were heard even from outside. He knocked once, but no one heard it. He knocked twice and he could hear footsteps. Right when he wanted to knock again, your member, Hwa, opened the door, standing curiously outside.

"May I help you...?" She says.

"Yeah, I was actually... I wanted to ask if..." He tried saying, not finding the words. However, you heard his voice.

"Ji?" Your voice was heard. Hwa connected the dots and left you both to have a talk. That day you reconnected with him and started meeting up to him more often. And that's how your friendship turned into a relationship.

Your life was absolutely perfect. You made your dream come true, you had amazing friends and your best friend was now your lover. After 3 years of dating, however, you and Han realized that you wanted to make your relationship public, to stop hiding and go on normal dates, without being followed everywhere for a dating scandal. So both of you started hinting. Lives full of recommendations of songs from each other’s groups, little appearances in each other’s vlogs, but nothing made your fans to believe something more than friendship was happening, since you both said that you were childhood friends. So, you came with an idea. An idea that made both you and Han smile, knowing it would shock everyone. And that is what both of you were. You were made to shock people.

You were in your changing room, dressed as all of the other back up dancers. You had a black short dress and a black mask on your face. Time was ticking and it was time for you to get on the stage. You and Han both prepared this moment, so you only hoped it worked. The backtrack of I GOT IT started. Han entered on the stage, smirked at you and started his performance. His song usually had around 3 minutes of rapping, but no one knew the surprise you planned. You moved on the beats, the same as the other back up dancers. But right after one minute and a half, the beat somehow changed and the lights went out, making everyone in the crowd gasp. Right then, the spotlight came back on you, right when you threw your mask on the ground. The backup dancers covered you, so you could undress half of your dress, making you easily spotted out. And right there, your own song started, the same vibe as I GOT IT. While you were rapping, this time Han was the one who couldn't be easily spotted on the stage, dressed as the other male backup dancers. The crowd cheered for you as well, amazed by the shocking collab. Right when your own would come to the fire part, you changed your song’s lyrics, rapped by both you and Han, now seen next to you.

“Shining better than a diamond, in my eyes you're the one and only,

Dreamin’ bout this day, together as we sweared, not lonely,

Swallow ‘em all, fearless cause you by my side,

Let’s stop this madness and stop tryin’ to hide,

Makin’ them finally understand,

But let’s try to not make it out of hand,

Y’all heard about my own best friend,

Loving her him until the end.”

The tune went by for a few more seconds, you and Han finishing your performance with a kiss. The crowd applaused and screamed your names, making both of you smile.

taglist!!

@agi-ppangx @lisaaassophhhieee @hyunjin-lover20

#han fluff #han x reader #han scenarios #han jisung #straykids x you #kpop x reader #kpop x you #straykids x yn #straykids x reader #straykids #kpop x y/n #skz

[hanaridulsetcheese]

♪ your relationship with stray kids as songs ♪

pairing : stray kids x gn!reader

genre : fluff

warnings : a little sad and might be sensitive to some.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

bang chan :

♪ home by one direction ♪

when you were lost and couldn't seem to find your way out of the dark, he came into your life like he was sent by heaven. you both were in dark places but as soon as you met each other the light shone. two empty hearts looking in darkness finally found the light. chan never left your side. whenever you needed him, he was right there. you never felt so much comfort in anyone than you did him and he felt the same way about you. you were each other's home.

"when you're lost, i'll find a way and i'll be your light. "

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

lee minho :

♪ wildest dreams by taylor swift ♪

it was a childhood crush that developed into something more as the years passed by. every moment with him was pure happiness and bliss. the only downside was thst it all took place behind closed doors, away from the eyes of the public. no one knew of your relationship, in public you two were strangers to each other. you both acted so well, it was hard to believe that you were even together. the acting made it feel like one day things will fall apart but he always assured you that he will never let that happen.

"say you'll see me again, even if it's just pretend. "

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

seo changbin :

♪ my demons by starset ♪

changbin always had trouble expressing his emotions. he found it hard to maintain his 'dark rapper' imagine while being true to his feelings. when ever he asks you to read the raps that he writes, you'd get a little worried at some of the emotion it conveys. you would immediately consult him. after years of being in a relationship with you, changbin learnt to talk to you about his feelings and not hiding behind his raps. you saved him from his intrusive thoughts and helped him through his troubles.

"i need your help, i can't fight this forever. "

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

stray kids inspired playlists below

bang chan

lee know

changbin

hyunjin

han

felix

seungmin

i.n

#skz #stray kids #stray kids reactions #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #bang chan #lee know #changbin #lee minho #seo changbin #felix #hyunjin #jisung #han #seungmin #jeongin #i.n #stray kids as your boyfriend #relationships with stray kids