parkersgarage

[parkersgarage]

a/n: had the thought of them hanging out a few days before the big fight (I don’t remember the timeline lmao) downtime before everything changes, you know?

eunjang 4 (idk man) x gn!reader | 751 wc | no major warnings, written in a platonic tone but Sieun has a secret soft spot for reader.

A cool breeze. The ocean crashing in front of you. Birds cawing and chirping loudly, calling out to their flock the next available food source.

It was peaceful—calm. It was a moment of clarity that told you you were alive and that life didn’t have to move at a pace you couldn’t keep up with.

Beside you, Gotak and Baku argued aimlessly over who had the better sandcastle, which escalated into playful wrestling after Baku had squashed Tak’s castle with his palm.

So much for peace.

On your other side, Juntae fiddled mindlessly with a shell, twisting and turning it between his fingers as he stared blankly at the waves lapping against the shore. Sieun mimicked him, almost, eyes dead set on the billowing water. He looked enticed, as if he wanted to walk into the water and never return; as if a siren was calling out to him.

Maybe a day at the ocean was a bad idea.

The two rowdy oafs had sat up properly after you’d turned your attention away, still grumbling under their breath about the ‘better structure’ between their castles.

If you could have a say in it, you’d say Gotak’s was better—Neater, structurally sound, better technique.

If you had a say in it.

“This is kind of a bummer, isn’t it?”

The four of you look towards Baku, who is resting his weight against his palms and propping himself up from behind.

“What are you on about, dumbass?” Gotak scoffs, but you’re sure he’s got the idea without the clarification.

“We’re here, at a beach, just wasting time like normal teenagers.” He says, gesturing between the five of you, including him. “Acting like we don’t have a huge problem looming over our shoulders.”

The silence grows after his words. You’d all been thinking that already, but leave it to Baku to voice his thoughts and feelings.

Your fingers dig into the sand around you, a makeshift ground to tie yourself to. “If we don’t stop to enjoy life, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment, we forget what it means to be alive.”

“If what happened didn’t happen, would we still be here right now?” You asked, watching as a group of kids ran past you, laughing together as they approached the shore.

One pushes the other into the water without warning, and the fallen one looks up at his friend with betrayal. But he doesn’t throw out a protest or punch, just laughs loudly and tries to drag his friend down with him.

No violence, just… kids being kids.

The way it should’ve been.

Your fingers unclench, sand clinging to your skin and under your fingernails– it’s pointless to dust it away. “But what do I know? I’m not the philosophical type.”

“Yeah, right.” Gotak scoffs, brushing a hand through his hair. “You don’t drop heavy ass words like that out of nowhere.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Juntae hunches forward, hand covering his mouth, while stifled laughter shakes his shoulders. “Sorry–” he catches himself, pushing his glasses up with a wobbly grin; you suppose he was trying to hide his amusement. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Now I know whose side you’d take, Juntae.” A faux frown plasters itself to your face, eyes lowering as you put on your best pout. “It was always Gotak’s, wasn’t it?”

“As if anyone would take your side.” He scoffs, again. “You’d be lucky to even get Sieun on your side– he’s lost in Neverland over there.”

And just like Tak says, Sieun’s eyes are still set on the ocean before him, seemingly trapped in a dreamlike state.

“I’m listening.” Baku and Tak jolt, leaning back in shock simultaneously, like two peas in a pod. Or dumb and dumber. “I’d be outnumbered if I went to Y/n’s side,” a loud protest leaves your lips to drown out Tak’s obnoxious cheering. “But I’d still choose them.”

A laugh escapes your throat at his words, pointing in Gotak’s face while genuine shock overtakes him. “That’s the highest honor– you may have two people, but I won over Yeon Sieun.”

The latter rolls his eyes, returning to the ocean as a scoff, a laugh, slips past his monotonous facade. It gets drowned out by the new argument that’s started, this time Hyuntak and Baku both pitting themselves against you after Sieun had sided against them.

A quiet sigh leaves Sieun’s mouth, shoulders relaxing just the slightest, still carrying the weight of the situation— lighter, yet still present.

a/n: debated on posting this for a week lol, lmk what you think ? I’ll post something with romance soon maybe 👍

[parkersgarage]

collarless | geum seongje

synopsis — he’s always been collarless, all sharp teeth and no leash, and you swore you’d never crawl back to that kind of life. but even strays remember home.

pairing — geum seongje x ex!reader

genre — exes to enemies to an even worse, third thing, angst, action, just exes with unresolved tension, hurt/comfort

cw — violence, blood, smoking, tons of swearing, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation, implied sexual tension, they beat each other up and then make out lol 50% fighting 50% longing (sorry to action haters, just scroll down to the divider for romance lol)

wc — ~2.6k

part of the “i can fix him!” trilogy

notes: badly wanted to write a fic where the reader isn’t a horribly treated s.a. victim with the depth of a kiddie pool and can actually fight back/toe-to-toe against seongje.

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

the first time you punch seongje since you've last seen him, he laughs.

he’s leaning against the rusted frame of the garage door, a fresh bruise blooming on his lip, thanks to you, of course. one hand tucked into the pocket of his tracksuit, the other loosely draped over his ribs, his posture is loose but predatory, like a stray dog that’s been used to surviving on its own. his eyes flicker with a dangerous amusement, cold and hungry. “this your idea of a reunion, y/n?” he jeers.

you don’t bother answering—you slam your fist into his jaw, the impact sending a sharp crack through the air, like you’ve hit something wild and untamed.

“fuck off, seongje,” you spit. “the union doesn’t get to sniff around here without a warning. you think just ‘cause you’re one of baekjin’s dogs now, you get a free pass?”

he licks the blood off his bottom lip like he’s savoring it. “wasn’t trying to start a war.”

“then you shouldn’t have stepped foot in my area.”

“didn’t know you were this territorial, babe.” he asks when you ready your stance for another punch, already stretching your neck.

“you always this cocky for a mutt on a leash?”

he smiles, a wild glint flashing in his eyes. “didn’t wanna cause a scene, babe. just need your little bitch boss to pay us back the money he owes. which, if you didn’t know,” he tilts his head, slow and jerky, like a predator sizing up its prey, “is a-fucking-lot.” seongje laughs, the sound low and unnerving, dripping with manic amusement.

the collection wasn’t even a big deal. the union has far more boys than to send their right-hand man for something this small. seongje wasn’t here because the money was urgent. he was here because it amused him to get under your skin, to remind you who he was—who he still thought he was.

he shrugs, that cocky smirk never leaving his face. “had to, didn’t i? baekjin’s orders, y’know. thought you’d have missed me too.” he runs a hand through his hair with a lazy flick of his wrist as he saunters over to you, eyes glinting like he’s daring you to call him out.

then, with a casualness that somehow feels more dangerous than it should, he leans in slightly, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. it’s a move that feels too deliberate, too comfortable—like he’s testing just how much you’ll let him play with you.

you don’t need to hear more.

you swing again, remembering how he used to kiss you with that same reckless, chaotic energy. how every touch felt like a battle you never wanted to win.

his eyes darken—knowing. there’s a flicker in them, a sharp edge as he realizes you’re not backing down. and then, before you can react, he steps back to dodge, and steps back in as he throws a clean punch, landing square on your cheek.

you grunt, the impact rattling your head and bringing a ringing to your ears, but you don’t stumble. instead, you lean into the hit, using the momentum to drop low, kicking out your leg and tripping him on his shin. seongje stumbles, a grunt escaping him as he crashes to the ground with a sharp hiss.

“did you think i was gonna fall for that?” you sneer, standing over him, fists clenched.

he grins, his breath coming out ragged but amused. “nah. but i thought you’d make it fun.”

you raise your fist again. “you haven’t learned your lesson.”

but this time, seongje’s movements are quicker than you expect—he pounces, body weight crashing into yours, sending both of you slamming into the concrete ground. The air leaves your lungs in a whoosh, and before you can react, he’s already on top of you, his knee pressing into your side, pinning your arm beneath him.

you hiss through the pain, but even as your body aches from the impact, you narrow your eyes at him as he huffs, already sick of your persistence. “shit, you really want to make pretty faces like yours bleed?” seongje smirks, his grip tightening as he uses one palm to plant on the ground beside your head. his other hand catches your wrist, holding it above your head. “you always fight this hard, or is it just me?” he whispers, voice low and dangerous, as his knee digs into your other arm, restraining you completely.

his smirk never falters, but there’s something else in his eyes now—something dangerous, hungry.

you inhale sharply, then, in one quick, explosive motion, you slam your forehead into his with a sharp crack.

seongje’s eyes widen for a split second, disoriented. that’s all you need. you push him off, shoving him to the side and rolling back onto your feet, each move faster than before.

he blinks, trying to steady himself, but you’re already on him, throwing punches—one to the side of his head, another to his stomach, the force enough to make him cough out a ragged breath. a swift kick knocks his glasses clean off his face, sending them skidding across the gravel.

he looks up at you, his features twisted with annoyance, but also… something else. something almost familiar.

“you were going easy on me,” you murmur, voice low and dangerous, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “didn’t want me to get hurt, babe?” you tease, the nickname slipping from your tongue almost bitterly. “you know… we don’t make out anymore. guess it wouldn’t hurt to give you a busted lip, huh?”

he glares at you, breath coming quicker, the tension between you both palpable now—old history, old fights, and the undeniable truth that things are never just physical with him.

“you never make things easy, do you?” he growls, but there’s a spark in his eyes. a challenge, an invitation.

“you should know by now,” you reply, ready to go again, both of you caught in a tangled mess of unfinished business.

you’re caught in a frenzy of punches, kicks, and curses, both of you battering each other with everything you’ve got. each hit feels like it might be the last, but neither of you is willing to give up.

seongje’s fast, like always, his body moving with a feral intensity that makes it impossible to land a clean blow. but you’re just as relentless. you always have been. you dodge one punch, counter with an elbow to his ribs, and then another to his jaw, but it’s not enough. he’s too quick, and the fight’s gone on too long.

a wave of frustration rises in your chest. this damn wolf doesn’t know when to quit.

you swing again, aiming for his ribs, but he dodges just in time, his body shifting insanely fast, too fast for you to land a proper hit. he retaliates with a sharp jab to your stomach, knocking the wind out of you.

“fucking hell, y/n,” he growls, and you hear the edge of something you can’t quite place in his voice. maybe it’s concern, maybe it’s annoyance, but then—everything goes black.

when you wake, the world is dim, but not like it was before. this is different—darker, colder. the smell of smoke hits your nostrils first, and it’s only then that you recognize it. you’re not at some random street corner or an alleyway. you’re somewhere familiar.

your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, the shadows of the room taking form around you. and then it hits you: this room. you’ve been here before, too many times. too many nights spent tangled in memories you’ve tried to forget.

the dim light from the fading sunset seeps through a narrow window, casting deep purple shadows across the floor. your head’s throbbing, your cheek swollen, and your body aches with every movement, but none of that matters because you recognize this place. seongje’s place.

he’s standing by the windowsill, cigarette between his lips, smoke curling up into the air. his back is to you, but you can still see the familiar silhouette. his posture, the way his shoulders slouch just enough to give him that casual, laid-back look. the same posture you’ve seen a thousand times in this very room, in these very circumstances.

fuck him, you think, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. you wipe your mouth, feeling the blood on your lip, the cut stinging. this isn’t fair—bringing you back here.

you hear the soft snick of his lighter as he takes another drag from the cigarette, the sound too familiar.

“you’re awake,” he says, voice rough but not unkind. he turns around slowly, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“you knocked me out,” you mutter, your voice still thick with the remnants of the fight. your hand moves instinctively to your aching jaw. you feel the bruise already forming.

seongje looks almost casual about it, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “wasn’t my intention,” he shrugs, but his eyes flicker down to the cut on your lip, then back to your face. there’s a pause, and his voice drops lower as he adds, “but you didn’t really make it easy, babe—and this was the only way to shut you up.”

you frown, trying to process the weight of his words. what the hell does he mean by that? his eyes catch yours, and for a moment, the space between you feels heavy, charged with all the old history and the years of tangled emotions that you two shared.

you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to steady your mind. “you could’ve left me there,” you snap, trying to mask the vulnerability that’s creeping in. “but you didn’t.”

his eyes flash with something—maybe irritation, maybe something else—but he doesn’t look away. he takes another drag from his cigarette, as if weighing his next words carefully.

“yeah, and leave you with those assholes?” he mutters, his voice low and dark, eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “no fucking way.”

your heart skips a beat at that, the weight of his words crashing over you. his tone isn’t what you expected—there’s something more beneath the surface, something he’s not saying. it makes you pause, just for a moment, before you shake your head, trying to brush it off.

“you’re a pain in the ass,” you reply, though it comes out quieter than you meant.

seongje just looks at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up into that familiar smirk. “old habits never die,” he murmurs, and you feel that old tension, that magnetic pull, surge again between you two.

his cigarette is still between his fingers, and without asking, he holds it out to you. you don’t take it, instead leaning in slightly, your lips brushing against his fingers as you take a long drag from the cigarette on his hand, the smoke filling your lungs before you blow it out, deliberately exhaling the thick cloud of smoke right onto his face.

he rolls his eyes at this, unbothered, the smirk never fading as if he’s used to this by now.

“still playing dirty, huh?” he mutters, clearly unfazed, like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“and you’re still a fucking freak.” you shrug, the tension between you thickening with every word, the unspoken history, stained with repressed feelings, lingering just under the surface.

“a freak you’d kill for,” seongje says, finally facing you, narrowing his eyes as he flicks the cigarette out the window. “join the union,” he says simply.

you cock an eyebrow at him, your lips curling into a smirk, eyebrows quirked in disbelief. “if you wanted to get back together, you could’ve just said that. fucker.”

seongje doesn’t laugh, he just keeps watching you like he’s waiting, gaze a little more intense this time.

you shake your head, something colder behind your eyes now. “i’m not fucking insane like you, seongje.”

his jaw tics, but he doesn’t interrupt. so you keep going.

“you knew it back then, too. it was always gonna be one of us.” your voice is quiet, but steady. “and you knew me, seongje. i just needed to get by. keep my head down, earn some chump change, scrape enough to disappear when i was ready. the union—” you scoff, “—that shit was always too high stakes. too serious.”

you look away, jaw clenching. “i have dreams, seongje. i’m gonna go to college. make something out of this mess.”

you finally meet his eyes again. “so no, i’m not joining the union.”

seongje huffs out a low breath, then laughs—dry, disbelieving. “so that’s also a ‘no, we’re not getting back together’, huh?” he echoes, head tilted like he’s trying to make sense of you, a playful smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes flickered with something else.

you roll your eyes at this. then he chuckles, rubbing a hand down his face. “shit. you’re scary, babe.” there’s something fond buried under the sarcasm, though, something sharp and aching. “you always talked like you were gonna burn the whole city down just to make it to some fucking—loser, nerd, uni. still do.” he spits out.

he looks back out the window, tongue pressing into his cheek.

you can tell he’s pissed. bitter, even. maybe even... jealous? but you reach out without thinking—soft, deliberate—and brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. your fingers linger just long enough to slip his glasses off, folding them in your hand.

if you were anyone else, he’d have snapped your neck for touching his glasses, let alone getting that close.

but you were you.

seongje doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t even move—just shifts his gaze, side-eying you from the corner of his eye, something unreadable swimming just beneath the surface.

“you always do whatever the fuck you want,” he mutters, but it comes out low, almost like a compliment.

“mhm,” you hum, fingers still ghosting along his skin as you cup his cheek. his skin is rough beneath your touch—calloused and scarred, the faint divots of half-healed cuts from fights and brawls brushing against your palm. it scrapes at your skin, grounding you in a memory you shouldn’t still want. a past drenched in adrenaline and bad decisions, but his warmth still makes your chest ache like it always did.

your thumb brushes just beneath his eye as you lean in a little closer, your voice barely a breath. “and i really wanna kiss your stupid face right now, you psycho.”

seongje’s jaw clenches under your touch. his eyes scan yours, gaze falling on your lips, then back to your eyes, like he’s daring you to do it. like he wants you to. you blink once, his eyes flick to your lips again, and that’s all it takes.

seongje grabs your face with both hands—rough, unfiltered—like he’s been holding back since the second you woke up in his room. the kiss crashes into you, all teeth and heat and the wild kind of need that’s only ever been his.

god, he needed this.

not just his lips on your or his fingers curling into the back of your neck, but you. the only person who ever made him feel anything beyond bloodlust. all the beatdowns, the turf wars, the payoffs—none of that ever lit his veins up like this. like you.

your eyes flutter close, gasping into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, urgent, almost clumsy with how badly he wants more. his hands are on your jaw, your waist, your back—everywhere, like if he lets go, it’ll all disappear. he groans desperately into your lips, muttering your own name against your skin.

you let him kiss you like he’s starved for it, like he’s still the boy who used to beg you not to leave his bed in the mornings, the boy who would let the world burn just to have you. you let him hold you like this means something—like maybe, for tonight, it does.

even though you know you’ll be gone by tomorrow morning, before the sun even touches the edge of the windowsill where you two once sat. no note, no goodbye. you’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.

because he’ll always choose the union. the chaos. the blood in his mouth and the rush in his fists. because that’s just who seongje is—your wolf with red-stained teeth, always chasing, craving something darker. the mad dog.

but you?

you’ve got places to be. you’re not wasting time here leashed to him like this. you have dreams to run toward. dreams that geum seongje was never meant to follow.

note: just couldn’t stop thinking of love and leashes while writing this, so here u go lol

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[parkersgarage]

Two people requesting seongje 😭😭yall wanna fix him BAD😭😭

[parkersgarage]

Changed my pfp after 2 yrs just for it to be another piwon member

[parkersgarage]

— unspoken

pairing : yeon sieun x reader

warnings : none, pure fluff

word count : 1.4k

summary : even though Sieun wasn’t the boyfriend to openly hold your hand on the street or hug you in the school hallways, he showed you love in the most unspoken ways. And you cherished these moments more than anything.

a/n : i just finished watching whc2 and i’m so happy with the ending. I loved this kdrama so much.

—

Sieun’s house was always a little too quiet, but you never minded. It made moments like this feel more intimate. The low hum of his desk lamp he specially moved to the living room, the occasional rustle of pages, the soft clicking of pens—it was a quiet kind of closeness you grew to love. And truthfully, you’d grown used to this silence ever since the two of you started seeing each other.

Today wasn’t any different. You sat cross-legged on the floor across Sieun who was flipping through a practice exam booklet with furrowed brows, highlighter in hand, fully immersed in the quiet rhythm of studying. His brows always furrowed when he studied, and something about that little detail made you want to stare longer than you should.

You had your books open too, a pencil twirling between your fingers, but most of your focus was on him. You weren’t even pretending to study at this point—just watching how his eyes moved, how his lips pressed together in concentration and how his hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.

“Is something wrong with the exercise?” he asked suddenly, catching your gaze without even looking up from the page.

You blinked, caught, but you nodded anyway. “Mhm.” you replied, nodding even though you hadn’t read a single question. “Totally confusing.”

He closed his book gently and moved beside you, taking your textbook without waiting for permission. You scooted a little closer, heart racing more from his closeness than from any actual academic confusion. You leaned in, resting your chin on your palm and you lips tugging into a small smile.

“What part?” he asked, eyes scanning the question.

“All of it.” You answered.

He started explaining, quietly, patiently. His voice was smooth, his finger moving across the page as he broke down each step. But you didn’t catch a word—your focus stayed fixed on him, not even glancing at the formulas.

“You’re not listening,” he said flatly after a few seconds, eyes flicking to meet yours.

“I am,” you lied, grinning.

He narrowed his eyes just a bit, not annoyed, but definitely unamused. “Then tell me what I just said.”

“…Something about the square root of something?” you blurted out, leaning slightly closer with a dramatic sigh.

Sieun exhaled, almost a laugh, but not quite. More like a breath caught between amusement and surrender. He didn’t respond. Just shook his head softly and went back to explaining.

Your story hadn’t exactly started with a confession. There were no butterflies-in-your-stomach speeches or dramatic realizations. It just… happened.

You weren’t even sure when it shifted from one-sided pestering to a relationship. Maybe it was all those late library study sessions, or the times you shared your snacks during break, or how you always waved at him even when he never waved back—at first.

The truth was, you’d kind of forced yourself into his quiet little world. Bit by bit, like sunlight creeping in through half-closed blinds. You didn’t knock, you just sort of let yourself in—loud, bright, and annoyingly persistent.

He resisted, of course. Gave you those flat stares, dry responses, and more than once told you to stop talking so much. But then came the little moments—how he started waiting for you outside class, the way he sat just a bit closer at lunch, how he texted you first just once and never really stopped.

So when he kissed you for the first time, it didn’t feel like a surprise. It felt like something that had been waiting to happen all along. Quiet, slow, and certain.

Sieun had long returned to his side of the table, diving back into his book with the same silent intensity he always carried. His eyes flicked across the lines, and the only sound in the room was the soft scratching of his pen as he scribbled notes.

You, on the other hand, lasted a solid thirty minutes before your patience cracked.

With a loud sigh, you dropped your pen and slid down until your back hit the floor. You sprawled out like a starfish, letting your arm flop to the side as you stared up at the ceiling.

Sieun glanced over, pen paused mid-word, looking completely dumbfounded. He didn’t say anything at first, just raised a brow and blinked slowly like he was trying to process whether you had actually just given up and collapsed on his floor.

“…What are you doing?” he finally asked, voice flat but clearly confused.

“I’m tired of studying,” you groaned, throwing an arm over your eyes. “I didn’t come here to write equations till my brain melts.”

“Then why did you come?”

You peeked at him from under your arm, a small smirk curling on your lips. “To spend time with you.”

Sieun blinked again, this time his gaze lingering on you a little longer before looking away. You thought maybe he was going to ignore it like he always did, brush past your teasing, but his hand paused on the corner of his page, like something in your words stuck.

“You could've just said that,” he muttered, eyes back on his book—but you saw the way his ears tinted just slightly pink.

You grinned, crossing your arms over the table now from your seated spot on the floor. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

“You’re annoying.”

“But you still love me” you teased.

He looked at you then—deadpan as always. “Delusional.”

You just laughed. It was so easy being around him, even with his wall up. Maybe especially because of it. Each word he gave you felt earned. Each look, every small shift in expression—it all meant something.

“So what exactly does that mean? How do you want to spend time with me?” He blinked, leaning his back slightly against the couch.

You looked at him for a second, then without a word, stood up and moved around the table. He followed your movement with his eyes, and before he could say anything else, you plopped down beside him. Close—closer than usual.

Then, gently, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting out the smallest content sigh. Both of your arms wrapped around his, holding it close like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Like this,” you murmured. “This is enough.”

There was a beat of silence. The kind that hung heavy, not uncomfortable, but full of something else. Sieun didn’t move, didn’t say anything right away. You could hear the soft click of the clock on the wall, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

And then—you felt it.

A quiet shift.

His shoulder barely moved, but you felt it. A small pull at the corner of his lips.

You turned slightly to look up at him.

“Are you… smiling?”

Sieun exhaled through his nose, subtle but unmistakable.

“You’re imagining things,” he said.

But the faint curve on his lips betrayed him.

You grinned and tightened your grip on his arm just a little. “You so are.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, eyes flicking away, his smile not leaving his lips.

You stayed like that for a while—curled up beside him, your head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his. At first, it was quiet—comfortable, easy. But it didn’t take long before you started talking. Random stories, the kind that didn’t need a point.

Sieun wasn’t the most talkative, and you still carried most of the conversation, but he listened—really listened—and when he spoke, it was warm, thoughtful, a little dry but always sincere. He’d answer with a soft laugh, or a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Sometimes he’d shake his head at your teasing remarks, and other times, he’d quietly add his own take, making you laugh.

It was one of those moments where time didn’t feel real. Just the two of you, tucked into the corner of his quiet world, talking about nothing and everything.

Even though Sieun wasn’t the boyfriend to openly hold your hand on the street or hug you in the school hallways, he showed you love in the most unspoken ways.

And you cherished these moments more than anything.

[parkersgarage]

a/n: me when I open up the drafts immediately after watching the second season. something simple for now 👍

kdrama! yeon sieun x gn!reader | 595 wc | no major warnings, no spoilers, mentions injury (bruising)

“Did you get into a fight again?”

Sieun turns at the voice—not his mother, not even his head imagining things—but you. Standing in the middle of the apartment with tears in the corner of your eyes, just staring at him under the dim light.

His fingers twitch at his sides, palm itching as if it hurt him to keep his hands from moving. “I did.”

Sieun always found it hard to lie to you. That was one of his greatest faults that he could never fix. You always saw right through him.

“Come to me.” His brow twitches, but he stays in place despite your words. You don’t move either, feet planted firmly in your spot before your arms cross over your chest. “When you get injured– when your friends you’ve told me about– if and when they get hurt, you guys come to me. Alright?”

He nods slightly, hesitating because, essentially, he was adding you to the list of people he has to worry about. Though you always were at the top, now it seemed more detrimental than ever.

They’d already shown up to Suho, after all. Who knows what would happen if they’d come to you.

Your socks shuffle against the hardwood floor as you walk towards him, fingers brushing against the bruises along his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me. I can handle myself.”

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry.”

Your hand freezes against his skin, eyes darting between his as he stares at you, a hardened glare– yet no malice within it. “Right. Okay.”

His fingers wrap around your wrist unexpectedly, eyes snapping to your hand as he slowly brings it away from his face. “How did you find out?”

“Word gets around fast.” You say, heartbeat quickening when he takes a step closer to you. “You know, high schoolers love to talk.”

He releases your hand with a hum, brushing past you to walk to his room, turning around just before he reaches his door. “Are you staying?”

You look towards your shoes at the door, tapping your fingers against your thigh as silence fills the room while he waits for your response. “I ca–”

“It’s late.” Your head turns to him, jolting when he stands right in front of you. “You should stay.”

In a rare moment, Sieuns’ eyes tell you something you’d never heard before.

I need you here. Stay. Don’t go.

You wonder how it was possible to get all that from a simple look, but his eyes never once held anything but the truth. It was his tell.

“Okay,” your fingers twitch against the back of his hand when you feel it brush against yours, your pinky wrapping hesitantly with his. “Alright.”

The light flickers off, and the apartment is silent except for the buzzing light from the streets outside and the floor creaking under your and Sieuns’ steps. The bed dips as you settle down, and your arm absentmindedly wraps around him, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt.

Sieun couldn’t tell if you were grounding him or yourself. But he wouldn’t brush you off.

Another thing he finds himself incapable of doing.

“Get some rest.” You whispered, breath brushing against the nape of his neck. He almost pulls away, almost.

He replies with a hum, eyes flitting to the alarm clock across from him, sighing at the time. “You too.”

Your fingers flex against his shirt, clutching tighter, and your head presses into his back. Sieun stays silent, watching the numbers on the clock change until he hears your breathing even out.

[parkersgarage]

On episode 4 of weak hero… let’s see if my twisted mind decides I wanna write for it again 😭

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a/n: my sieun fic from a while back has gained a lot of sudden attention, so I wanted to share an old draft ٩( 'ω' )و are we ready for season 2 on the 25th !?

kdrama! yeon sieun x gn!reader | 392 wc | warnings: little angsty, reader is venting a bit.

“When you left,” you started, filling the corner of your notebook with scribbles. “I didn’t think I’d get so lonely without you.”

Sieun sits silently, listening to you talk. He couldn’t focus on his studies, pencil mindlessly trailing along the worksheet in front of him.

“I always thought we’d stick together no matter what. But then final exams came along, and your temper grew shorter and thinner, and you finally snapped at me.” Sieun looks down; you knew he felt guilty about it, but you’d never brought it up again since it happened. “I don’t blame you. I’d get annoyed too.”

“I didn’t-” Sieun is quick to stop talking when your eyes snap to him, his gaze settling back to the table.

You sigh, leaning on your palm as you look at him. “I’m over it, but I’ve never talked to you about how I felt.” He hums. “I hated you for a while, I hated Suho for a while, and I still hate Beomseok.” He looks to the side at his friends' names– or rather– used to be friends.

“And then that happened, and now we’re here– I just can’t carry it with me anymore. It makes me miserable. I needed to talk to someone, but we couldn't, so I ended up talking to the ceiling, and it just repeated it back to me.”

Sieun watches you lean back in your chair, body sinking halfway under his dining table. “After you left, everyone in the class stopped talking to me. They thought– at least, it’s what they told me– they were afraid of saying the wrong thing.”

“But you’re not–”

“I know.” Sieun nods, “I understood where they were coming from. It just hurt watching my friends turn their backs on me.” You turn your head to him, nudging your pencil against his. “But I still have you, and you’re more important than all of them combined.”

“Don’t say that.” He mumbles, looking to the side. “You have more important people than me.”

You shake your head, “I really don’t. You and Suho are my family, whether you like it or not.” He sighs. A disguised smile makes its way to his face, but he lowers his head and wipes his mouth so you don’t see it.

“Let’s eat sometime,” he says, looking back to his worksheet. “The three of us.”

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My favorite fics have a smooth progression of angst into fluff, I like angst because the conflict makes things so much more interesting! Anyway, I was on tik tok and I saw the “wiping my boyfriend’s kiss off” prank, how would either of the guys react to that? 😹

HAHAAAAA…. So sorry I took so long,,,, I hope headcanons were okay,,, truthfully it’s all I could come up with (｀_´)ゞ

Kim Geonwoo

Now, why would you do this to HIM?

He doesn’t notice it at first, so he brushes it off and assumes something in your mouth is bothering you. 

But he kisses you again and pauses, furrowing his brows when you keep wiping at your mouth. 

“Is there something wrong?” He asks, lifting your hand away from your face. He leans in close, trying to see for himself before you can even answer the question. “Did you accidentally cut yourself?”

The poor guy would not catch on; he wouldn’t even know it was a prank in the first place. Or at all even, he’s just 100 percent concerned about you.

Def is getting dejected and sad because it only happens when you kiss him. Your mouth isn’t bothering you while eating, so why can’t he kiss you?!

It's low-key driving him insane, but he’s too worried about your well-being to even THINK about complaining; he just takes it like a champ. 

And I do NOT say this to make him seem like a dumb puppy. I just genuinely do not think he would mull over it hard; he’s just super concerned.

“Huh, it was a prank? What kind of prank is that? It wasn’t even funny.” Kinda reaction. Or a, “Oh… so that’s what it was?”

Hong Woojin

This is so mean… do it again. 

I think Woojin plays his fair share of pranks on you that this is mundane. It’s expected that you retaliate, you know?

He also didn’t think anything of it at first, mostly because he kissed you after a match, so he was sweaty. 

But he also is the type of person not to be satisfied by one little peck on the lips… when you get home, he’s kissing every inch of you, and you’re just… wiping it off?!

“What is this? What are you doing? I’m not even sweaty anymore?” He looks down at himself, patting his mouth to see if there was any lingering moisture on his face– and nothing. “Was it because i ordered extra? I’m sorry for taking advantage of your paying, but I was hungry and warned you!”

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. (said with affection, of course.) 

He grumbles to himself while he gives you space. He doesn’t even know if you’re angry, but he’s doing it just in case. 

And that’s when he realizes it was a prank. Your socials’ explore page is practically synced with his, so he sees a video titled “Wiping my boyfriend's kisses prank,” and all the pieces fall into place. 

He has the most shit-eating grin on his face as he makes his way to the bedroom where you are, ready to ruin your fun. 

“If you wanted to prank me, you shouldn’t have liked the video.” KILL HIM!!!!! (Said with love)

[parkersgarage]

WAIT BUT I LOVE ANGST..

I do too but I never feel satisfied with the angst I write 😭 it feels too cliche and then whenever a character goes through so much I try to make their fanfics fluff only💀💀

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All the requests I think of are so unserious, like how would he react to whatever tik tok prank 💀

lol that is totally okay,, I don’t really write lighthearted stuff anyways so it’ll be a good change of pace 😭 I need to stray away from attempts of angst and stick to my expertise for fluff 💀

[parkersgarage]

I’m so late but I just wanted to say that I enjoyed reading your woo jin fic, I’m not too creative so I don’t have a request but if you write for him again I’ll totally show support 😹

Thank you lol!!! No worries on the no request part, I’ll just keep him in mind when surfing through things to write hehe (｀_´)ゞ

[parkersgarage]

Woo Jin is so fine, I literally just discovered him so I’m looking for fics 😭 are you still writing?

Woojin IS fine as hell!!! I haven’t written anything for him in a while but I think a rewatch or binging edits will do the trick ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

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YEON SIEUN HOW IVE MISSED YOU!!!!!

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Ooh why are my bloodhounds fics getting an increase in notes recently … did I miss something?? Are we rewatching?? Watching for the first time?? New season dropped and I was somehow not aware!!??

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I hate writing for fandoms late 💔💔like I watched twisters right when it came out and didn’t write for it until now and it’s DEAD on here 😭😭

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a/n: I went down a rabbit hole after getting two (2) edits of him. I don’t wanna talk about it 😭

scott miller x gn!reader | 846 wc | warnings: alcohol, unrequited love (past) not very proofread (I was half asleep)

Scott was never a man of many words, at least none that weren’t snarky comebacks, snide comments, or blatant orders. But he was your best friend, at least in some way. After Javi went back to miami you didn’t have anyone. Kate was gone, but you’d never truly felt connected with her as much as everyone else.

You’d met Scott near the end of college at a joint conference between schools. He’d commented about your presentation and how it lacked unbiased opinion, to which you responded about his lack of real-world experience. 

Scott was the person you clung to throughout the loneliest chapter of your life, and he was okay with that. 

He’d heard about your stories, the tornado that tore your life apart, the unrequited feelings you had for his new business partner, who he’d had no idea was the same guy until he introduced you two. 

Since he wasn’t a talker, it made him an observer. He studied the way you reacted the moment you had your eyes on Javi, then the click in Javi’s eyes when he realized it was you that Scott was introducing him to. 

“You two know each other?” He’d asked, even if he knew the answer already. 

“This is the friend I talked about, the one that didn’t wear pants.” Javi rolls his eyes at his embarrassing legacy and curses at the fact his new business partner knows it. “Scotty didn’t tell me anything about his new endeavors, let alone who he was working with.” You spare a glance in his direction when he clears his throat, muttering ‘Scott’ under his breath. 

“He didn’t mention anything about you either.” 

Scott remained indifferent, he’d mastered his facade of not giving a damn, but there’s something about the way Javi is looking at you that irks him. 

Whatever. It’s not important. 

The next day, night he should say, since you spent nearly all day catching up with Javi since they didn’t need to do any work today. Scott sits mindlessly on the couch watching god knows what, with a beer in hand that nearly slips out of his grip when you walk in. There’s a wistful smile on your face as you talk about how Javi was such a gentleman or how Javi was so attentive, and how handsome Javi looked in his sweater. 

Scott listens wordlessly, it’s what he’s known for. It’s what he’s here for. But as much as he was an observer, you were too. 

“Are you okay, Scott?” You ask softly, settling on the couch beside him. Your eyes shoot down to the bottle in his hand, then to the few on the table. “You don’t usually drink this much.” Then you glance at the clock, furrowing your brows when you look at him. “And you’re usually in bed by this time.”

He lets you take the bottle from his hand, and lets himself fall into you, he’ll blame it on being drunk. “Was waiting for you to come home.” 

“Oh, Scotty.” Something in your heart melts at his words, more from the way he’s started to cling onto you. “You didn’t have to do that, you’ll be tired in the morning. Especially with how much you’ve had to drink.” 

“Do you still love Javi?” 

His question catches you off guard, the hand that was running through his hair hovers above him now. “I don't know.” You think about today, how he was all those things you said before but during conversations there were too many mentions of Kate. 

Kate changed her hair. Kate was impressed by his change. Kate this. Kate that. Kate. 

You figured Scott was feeling the same way as you with Javi. He doesn’t get drunk off a few beers, his cheeks would’ve been flushed red but they’re as clear as day. 

“I think I just wanted to see if there was a chance, but as much as I wanted to hold onto him, I knew I had to let him go eventually.” 

There wasn’t warmth when Javi guided you into the restaurant with his hand on your back, nor when he looked at you from across the table and held your hand for a moment. 

But with Scott you always felt that. You always felt the rush of warmth whenever he complimented you, it was rare and usually disguised as an insult but you knew what he meant. Everything he did for you was kept close to your heart. 

“You should get some sleep, Scotty.” You whisper, pulling his head off your shoulder gently. “You’ve got an early start tomorrow.” 

He doesn’t protest, he never does, not when it comes to you. He lets you pull him up by the arm, lets you guide him towards his room, even lets you throw the covers over him. He’d never admit how much he loved when you took care of him, let alone how much you meant to him. 

Because Scott was the person you clung to throughout the loneliest chapter of your life, and he had to be okay with being just that.