remtrack

[remtrack]

can i request some renjun content? there's not enough on tumblr 😞💔

of course you can my sweet!!! shoot me the request 😋

[remtrack]

nowhere nowhence im that chiller

[remtrack]

requests are open btw if anyone wants to request!!

[remtrack]

two mouths, one cigarette ★ lee haechan.

🏷️: rockstar haechan x fem!reader. fluff. oneshot. 800 words.

can be read as a part two to fate... and a cigarette.

after a long journey of courting you (three attempts), haechan finally gets his long-awaited kiss, or rather... cigarette smoke being blown into his mouth.

HAECHAN WOULDN'T STOP STARING. He has this habit of letting his gaze linger, which you've noticed since the first time you met. He looks at people — or he'd say just you — like he's in the Louvre, admiring a piece of art. Taking his time, letting his vision take in every inch, deciphering each part of you.

Do you like it? Yes. Do you still shy away every time? Also yes.

"Why are you staring?" you mumble, looking away from his gaze. You distract yourself by looking at the scenery before you.

For your first date, he took you to a cafe with a jazz band playing melodies from the 90s. He made the reservations, drove you there, opened every door and peeled your shrimp like a true gentleman. For your second date, he took you to Chinatown, where he showed you his favourite hidden gems and made you try his favourite street food.

And for your third date, he took you to a gig. You watched his friend Jaehyun's band perform with his hand wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. Now you're standing on the rooftop of Radost yet again, with his hand lazily draped around your shoulders as you smoke.

"You just look hot when you're smoking like that," he whispers. His lips graze the shell of your ears as he speaks, like he's breathing each syllable onto your skin. "Makes me feel things, you know? Can't help but stare."

"Pervert," you scoff, rolling your eyes in faux annoyance.

"You like it, though."

"Shut up."

You flick the cigarette with your fingers after each inhale, taking in the scenery from the rooftop. Radost is placed on the third floor of an art building, and you can see the skyscrapers of Seoul from its rooftop. You could hear the strums of the bass echoing out of the venue, and it feels oddly romantic, especially with Haechan's head leaning against yours. He really wouldn't quit with the staring, his gaze burning into your skin, much like your cigarette, as his finger outlines circles on your waist. 

“You know it's our third date, right?” he whispers. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

Haechan parts his lips and hesitates. And then his lips pucker into a small pout — a side of him you only discovered on the second date. You'd think that guys who wear eyeliner and sing rock songs would never, ever, pout, but Haechan proves otherwise. He does it all the time. When you disagree with him, when you don't let him steal a fry off your plate (jokingly) and when he's babbling about something.

It's cute. 

“You forgot, didn't you?” he huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Forgot what?”

“Ugh,” he scoffs, taking his hand off your waist. You already miss his warmth. “You said… you'd kiss me by the third date.”

To his offence, you burst out into a fit of laughter, throwing your head back. 

I'll blow the smoke into your mouth on the third date.

It was a comment made jokingly. He really took that as a promise?

“Are you done laughing at me?” he mutters, crossing his arms.

“Yes —” you answer, slowing down before laughing some more. Once your laughter dies down, you look at him with a grin. “You're seriously holding me to that?”

“Excuse me for taking you for a woman of your words,” he scoffs. He hates how you’re making fun of him, but loves the gleeful smile on your face. “Well… whatever. It's your loss, really.”

Haechan turns his body around to lean against the railing, resting his elbows on the metal and drumming his fingertips to the muffled music seeping from the gig. You take a deep drag from your Marlboro Gold, dropping the stick to the ground — and to his surprise, you press your lips against his. 

His whole world stops. He goes slack (he'll call himself a loser for this later…) before finally loosening in your embrace, one hand resting on your waist and the other gripping your hip. You lick his lower lip, waiting for them to part before blowing the smoke into his mouth. 

How can something so bitter taste so sweet? The mixture of the tobacco and your cherry lips is enough for Haechan to devote himself here, between your legs and against your lips. Eagerly, his hands move to grab your face, thumbs caressing your skin as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. 

He swears heaven is right here. When you part for air, your arms wrap around his neck before you slump your body against him, hiding your face in his neck. He could feel every inhale of air you breathe in, hearts beating against each other. 

“So sweet,” he whispers, leaning his cheek against your head. He couldn't see you, though he could feel you smile. “Want more, pretty.”

“I only give more kisses to my boyfriend.”

Once again, Haechan freezes in his spot, brown eyes meeting yours as you lift your head. He pokes his tongue against his cheek. Touché. Brilliant way to make somebody ask you out, he’ll give you that. 

“Can I…”

Before Haechan could even finish his sentence, he’s cut off by a kiss.

He’ll take that as a yes. 

★ ★ ★

taglist: @ch3rryd0ll @jenohyun @untilthesunrises @raevyng @peachysoso @peartreegarden @iliveforsmut3000 @chenlezip @222low @hyunverse

[remtrack]

two mouths, one cigarette ★ lee haechan.

🏷️: rockstar haechan x fem!reader. fluff. oneshot. 800 words.

can be read as a part two to fate... and a cigarette.

after a long journey of courting you (three attempts), haechan finally gets his long-awaited kiss, or rather... cigarette smoke being blown into his mouth.

HAECHAN WOULDN'T STOP STARING. He has this habit of letting his gaze linger, which you've noticed since the first time you met. He looks at people — or he'd say just you — like he's in the Louvre, admiring a piece of art. Taking his time, letting his vision take in every inch, deciphering each part of you.

Do you like it? Yes. Do you still shy away every time? Also yes.

"Why are you staring?" you mumble, looking away from his gaze. You distract yourself by looking at the scenery before you.

For your first date, he took you to a cafe with a jazz band playing melodies from the 90s. He made the reservations, drove you there, opened every door and peeled your shrimp like a true gentleman. For your second date, he took you to Chinatown, where he showed you his favourite hidden gems and made you try his favourite street food.

And for your third date, he took you to a gig. You watched his friend Jaehyun's band perform with his hand wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. Now you're standing on the rooftop of Radost yet again, with his hand lazily draped around your shoulders as you smoke.

"You just look hot when you're smoking like that," he whispers. His lips graze the shell of your ears as he speaks, like he's breathing each syllable onto your skin. "Makes me feel things, you know? Can't help but stare."

"Pervert," you scoff, rolling your eyes in faux annoyance.

"You like it, though."

"Shut up."

You flick the cigarette with your fingers after each inhale, taking in the scenery from the rooftop. Radost is placed on the third floor of an art building, and you can see the skyscrapers of Seoul from its rooftop. You could hear the strums of the bass echoing out of the venue, and it feels oddly romantic, especially with Haechan's head leaning against yours. He really wouldn't quit with the staring, his gaze burning into your skin, much like your cigarette, as his finger outlines circles on your waist. 

“You know it's our third date, right?” he whispers. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

Haechan parts his lips and hesitates. And then his lips pucker into a small pout — a side of him you only discovered on the second date. You'd think that guys who wear eyeliner and sing rock songs would never, ever, pout, but Haechan proves otherwise. He does it all the time. When you disagree with him, when you don't let him steal a fry off your plate (jokingly) and when he's babbling about something.

It's cute. 

“You forgot, didn't you?” he huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Forgot what?”

“Ugh,” he scoffs, taking his hand off your waist. You already miss his warmth. “You said… you'd kiss me by the third date.”

To his offence, you burst out into a fit of laughter, throwing your head back. 

I'll blow the smoke into your mouth on the third date.

It was a comment made jokingly. He really took that as a promise?

“Are you done laughing at me?” he mutters, crossing his arms.

“Yes —” you answer, slowing down before laughing some more. Once your laughter dies down, you look at him with a grin. “You're seriously holding me to that?”

“Excuse me for taking you for a woman of your words,” he scoffs. He hates how you’re making fun of him, but loves the gleeful smile on your face. “Well… whatever. It's your loss, really.”

Haechan turns his body around to lean against the railing, resting his elbows on the metal and drumming his fingertips to the muffled music seeping from the gig. You take a deep drag from your Marlboro Gold, dropping the stick to the ground — and to his surprise, you press your lips against his. 

His whole world stops. He goes slack (he'll call himself a loser for this later…) before finally loosening in your embrace, one hand resting on your waist and the other gripping your hip. You lick his lower lip, waiting for them to part before blowing the smoke into his mouth. 

How can something so bitter taste so sweet? The mixture of the tobacco and your cherry lips is enough for Haechan to devote himself here, between your legs and against your lips. Eagerly, his hands move to grab your face, thumbs caressing your skin as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. 

He swears heaven is right here. When you part for air, your arms wrap around his neck before you slump your body against him, hiding your face in his neck. He could feel every inhale of air you breathe in, hearts beating against each other. 

“So sweet,” he whispers, leaning his cheek against your head. He couldn't see you, though he could feel you smile. “Want more, pretty.”

“I only give more kisses to my boyfriend.”

Once again, Haechan freezes in his spot, brown eyes meeting yours as you lift your head. He pokes his tongue against his cheek. Touché. Brilliant way to make somebody ask you out, he’ll give you that. 

“Can I…”

Before Haechan could even finish his sentence, he’s cut off by a kiss.

He’ll take that as a yes. 

★ ★ ★

taglist: @ch3rryd0ll @jenohyun @untilthesunrises @raevyng @peachysoso @peartreegarden @iliveforsmut3000 @chenlezip @222low @hyunverse

[remtrack]

two mouths, one cigarette ★ lee haechan.

🏷️: rockstar haechan x fem!reader. fluff. oneshot. 800 words.

can be read as a part two to fate... and a cigarette.

after a long journey of courting you (three attempts), haechan finally gets his long-awaited kiss, or rather... cigarette smoke being blown into his mouth.

HAECHAN WOULDN'T STOP STARING. He has this habit of letting his gaze linger, which you've noticed since the first time you met. He looks at people — or he'd say just you — like he's in the Louvre, admiring a piece of art. Taking his time, letting his vision take in every inch, deciphering each part of you.

Do you like it? Yes. Do you still shy away every time? Also yes.

"Why are you staring?" you mumble, looking away from his gaze. You distract yourself by looking at the scenery before you.

For your first date, he took you to a cafe with a jazz band playing melodies from the 90s. He made the reservations, drove you there, opened every door and peeled your shrimp like a true gentleman. For your second date, he took you to Chinatown, where he showed you his favourite hidden gems and made you try his favourite street food.

And for your third date, he took you to a gig. You watched his friend Jaehyun's band perform with his hand wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. Now you're standing on the rooftop of Radost yet again, with his hand lazily draped around your shoulders as you smoke.

"You just look hot when you're smoking like that," he whispers. His lips graze the shell of your ears as he speaks, like he's breathing each syllable onto your skin. "Makes me feel things, you know? Can't help but stare."

"Pervert," you scoff, rolling your eyes in faux annoyance.

"You like it, though."

"Shut up."

You flick the cigarette with your fingers after each inhale, taking in the scenery from the rooftop. Radost is placed on the third floor of an art building, and you can see the skyscrapers of Seoul from its rooftop. You could hear the strums of the bass echoing out of the venue, and it feels oddly romantic, especially with Haechan's head leaning against yours. He really wouldn't quit with the staring, his gaze burning into your skin, much like your cigarette, as his finger outlines circles on your waist. 

“You know it's our third date, right?” he whispers. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

Haechan parts his lips and hesitates. And then his lips pucker into a small pout — a side of him you only discovered on the second date. You'd think that guys who wear eyeliner and sing rock songs would never, ever, pout, but Haechan proves otherwise. He does it all the time. When you disagree with him, when you don't let him steal a fry off your plate (jokingly) and when he's babbling about something.

It's cute. 

“You forgot, didn't you?” he huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Forgot what?”

“Ugh,” he scoffs, taking his hand off your waist. You already miss his warmth. “You said… you'd kiss me by the third date.”

To his offence, you burst out into a fit of laughter, throwing your head back. 

I'll blow the smoke into your mouth on the third date.

It was a comment made jokingly. He really took that as a promise?

“Are you done laughing at me?” he mutters, crossing his arms.

“Yes —” you answer, slowing down before laughing some more. Once your laughter dies down, you look at him with a grin. “You're seriously holding me to that?”

“Excuse me for taking you for a woman of your words,” he scoffs. He hates how you’re making fun of him, but loves the gleeful smile on your face. “Well… whatever. It's your loss, really.”

Haechan turns his body around to lean against the railing, resting his elbows on the metal and drumming his fingertips to the muffled music seeping from the gig. You take a deep drag from your Marlboro Gold, dropping the stick to the ground — and to his surprise, you press your lips against his. 

His whole world stops. He goes slack (he'll call himself a loser for this later…) before finally loosening in your embrace, one hand resting on your waist and the other gripping your hip. You lick his lower lip, waiting for them to part before blowing the smoke into his mouth. 

How can something so bitter taste so sweet? The mixture of the tobacco and your cherry lips is enough for Haechan to devote himself here, between your legs and against your lips. Eagerly, his hands move to grab your face, thumbs caressing your skin as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. 

He swears heaven is right here. When you part for air, your arms wrap around his neck before you slump your body against him, hiding your face in his neck. He could feel every inhale of air you breathe in, hearts beating against each other. 

“So sweet,” he whispers, leaning his cheek against your head. He couldn't see you, though he could feel you smile. “Want more, pretty.”

“I only give more kisses to my boyfriend.”

Once again, Haechan freezes in his spot, brown eyes meeting yours as you lift your head. He pokes his tongue against his cheek. Touché. Brilliant way to make somebody ask you out, he’ll give you that. 

“Can I…”

Before Haechan could even finish his sentence, he’s cut off by a kiss.

He’ll take that as a yes. 

★ ★ ★

taglist: @ch3rryd0ll @jenohyun @untilthesunrises @raevyng @peachysoso @peartreegarden @iliveforsmut3000 @chenlezip @222low @hyunverse

[remtrack]

part two coming out SOON!

fate... and a cigarette ★ lee haechan.

tags: rockstar haechan x fem!reader. fluff. oneshot. 2000 words.

when destiny brings you to haechan... or the two times you met haechan by coincidence, and the one time he took fate into his own hands.

IT ALL STARTED WITH A LIGHTER, if you could even call it one. You’ve continuously flicked the sparkwheel, thumb burning from the friction, yet it remained unsparked.

Radost was jam-packed with gig-goers on Friday nights, and you weren’t one to enjoy rock gig environments; you preferred jazz bars instead. But Riku had dragged you here. So you truly needed this cigarette — you climbed up all those stairs towards the rooftop for this damn cigarette and you couldn’t even light it up. Frustrated, you tapped the hot pink lighter against your palm, lips puckered in stifled curses.

“You’ve tapped that poor thing enough, I think.”

You looked up, eyes met with brown ones. You recognised his face as one of the vocalists who performed — his face was easy to remember. Moles traced his cheeks down to his neck, hair slicked back — you had only seen this kind of face in your dreams before. Your hand trembled as you plucked the Marlboro from your lips.

“Right.”

You were about to tuck the stick back into its box when this stranger stepped towards you, fishing a lighter out of the pocket of his leather jacket. It wasn’t one of those cheap convenience store lighters, it was a Zippo — its colour black like his hair with a butterfly engraved on its case.

“I’ll light it up for you.”

You eyed his hand as it inched towards your lips, the other shielding the cigarette from the wind. It sparked up easily, as if a mockery of your earlier effort. You held up your Marlboro box as an offer, a compensation, but Haechan shook his head — you recalled his name from his performance introduction — and pocketed the Zippo.

“I don’t do cigars, just vape.”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Smoke engulfed the two of you, the colour enhancing the brown of his eyes as you took puffs from your cigarettes. He looked like a character in a noir movie, someone that you'd tell your grandkids about in thirty years. You eyed him down, and it only propelled him to stare back harder.

“So do you just bring it around to light up people’s cigarettes, picking up girls in the process?”

“Picking up boys, actually.”

“Oh.”

A sick kind of satisfaction filled Haechan at the embarrassment on your face. He let out a laugh.

“This would be my first time trying to pick up a girl.”

Red hues blossomed across your cheeks. Amidst the darkness, you prayed he wouldn’t notice — and if he did, you were to blame it on the November cold. To your luck, Haechan said nothing, only grinning at you playfully.

“Is it working?”

Of course, it was working. With his stupid leather jacket and his stupid handsome face and his stupid lines — it was working. But Haechan didn't need to know that. You knew many men like Haechan, and they were no good. So, you simply shrugged, head perking up upon Riku’s call of your name.

“Gotta go, thanks for the lighter.”

★★★

Lee Jeno [11:05 p.m.]: Hi, I'm Jeno, your Uber. There's traffic on the way to Seb's, so I will be a little late. Sorry for the inconvenience :) You [11:07 p.m.]: it's ok jeno :) thx for telling me!

“Fuck this,” the words slipped out of your mouth louder than you intended. Exhausted, you slumped your back against a lamppost. When you shut your eyes, you could still hear the music in Seb's, the pour of soda into your empty glass, the audience clapping, the… Haechan…?

“Got a cigarette for me to light up?”

Your eyes peeled open to see the familiar figure standing before you. This time, his hair covered his forehead, and instead of a leather jacket, he wore a polyester coat, though his eyes were still underlined with Kohl. Grinning, he looked at you as though he had caught you doing something bad.

“I didn't know you were here.”

“That's cruel,” he gasped. Dramatically, Haechan clutched a hand to his heart. “I knew you were here since the moment you stepped into the bar.”

Once again, hues of pink crept up your cheeks. This time, however, Haechan said something —

“You’re all red. You cold, pretty?”

Your hands clasped against your cheeks, feeling their warmth. Caught red-fucking-handed.

“Yeah,” you lied, bringing your hands to rub against your arms, “It’s cold tonight.”

“Okay, take this.”

Before you could even process, nor even say anything in return, the raven was wrapping his coat around your shoulders, patting the polyester against your skin. The spontaneity of his actions led you to believe that this was natural to him — that he probably did it to every other girl at his gigs (or dudes, as he said). While it flattered you, it also made you want to stay miles away from him.

Regardless, you basked in the warmth of his coat, how it felt soft against your skin and how it smelled like him. You tugged it closer to your body, ignoring the grin that graced Haechan’s face.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, pretty.”

The rest was pretty much a blur — how could you focus when he was so close to you? As he talked, his elbow kept grazing against yours — simple, brief touches that lingered in your stomach a little longer.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, tugging you towards him when a biker cycled too close.

“Mm,” you nodded, “Especially on Thursdays. The performer on Thursday is really cool, I love his voice.”

“Okay, so I’ll come every Thursday.”

Godddd. Did he own a bloody PhD on flirtation? In an attempt to conceal your smile, you pressed your lips together, nodding like his words had no effect on you. Haechan, on the other hand, allowed his lips to twitch into a smile. You were cute, and he wasn’t trying to hide it.

“So, can I have your number?”

Yesyoufuckingcan. But you didn’t say it. Your mind spiraled to the times Riku got screwed over by band guys — and the one time you got your heart broken so bad, you had thought it was the end of the world.

Hence, you bit your tongue.

“If we meet for the third time,” you muttered, taking off his coat and handing it to him. “I’m a firm believer of fate and shit. If we meet for the third time, then it’s destiny. So I’ll give it to you then.”

“Huh?”

Haechan stared at you, blinking his eyes in confusion as he half-mindedly took the coat from your hands. He parted his lips to speak, but no words would come out, his head going haywire with thoughts. Just then, your Uber pulled up.

“My Uber’s here,” you mumbled, flashing a small smile, “What about yours?”

“Walking home… just… wanted to accompany you ‘cause it’s midnight.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, waving goodbye before getting into the car. It drove away, his figure soon turning into a silhouette, Lee Haechan morphing into a ghost of your memories.

★★★

Fate… destiny… blah blah blah. They were like the Mercury Retrograde or whatever — bullshit.

“So you told him that you believe in fate and shit just ‘cause you wanted to reject him?”

When Jisung put it like that… it did feel a little pathetic. Shamefully nodding, you shoved one hand into the pockets of your apron. There were barely any students on campus on a Friday, especially in the vicinity of a study cafe. It was nearing closing, you were wiping down the counters as Jisung mopped the floor. He was clumsy, and he often asked stupid questions, such as, “Do you use bleach to mop?” But he was a good listener and funny sometimes, which made your shifts together fun.

“Well…”

“Kind of silly, isn’t it?”

“That’s one way to put it,” you chuckled, tossing the rag into the sink. “I just… don’t really trust guys like him.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, nodding his redhead, but not in a way to agree with you, rather to rebut. Jisung parted his lips in retort when the cafe door swung open.

“Are you guys closed?”

“Not y —” your words got stuck in your throat the moment you turned around.

There he was, standing in all his glory, Lee Haechan. Clad in his leather jacket, bangs covering his forehead, leaning against the counter. He looked just like the first time you met him, evoking the same kind of warmth in you.

“Still open?”

“Uh, yeah,” you cleared your throat, moving towards the register. He skimmed through the menu while you looked to Jisung for support, only to see him backing away into the kitchen. Damn Park Jisung and his fear of people his age — you were going to give him one hell of a lecture later.

“One latte, for takeaway,” Haechan finally said, fishing into his pocket for his card. You nodded, keying it into the register. “Oh, and, I’d like for it to be delivered when you’re done with your shift.”

“Sorry, what?” You looked up, exasperated. Nervously, you looked around the cafe before leaning closer to him, whispering, “What the hell? I finish in an hour.”

Haechan tapped his card against the reader, shrugging. As if he had no care for anything in the world, and it made you wonder — how did it feel to carry such confidence? It made you feel small, yet fluttered at the same time. You didn’t know how to handle it.

“I can wait,” he said, “I can be patient.”

★★★

The sound of the cafe shutter hitting the pavement rang in your ears, though it couldn’t compare to the rapid beating of your heart. Thumping, knocking on your chest as you carried the latte towards Haechan. He was leaning against a lamp-post, and he smelled like blueberries — not the fruity kind, rather, the e-cigarette kind. Nonetheless, he smelled as sweet as his honeyed words.

“Your latte,” you mumbled, passing it to the raven. He didn’t take it, gently pushing the cup towards you instead.

“It’s actually for you.”

“You made me make a latte just for you to give it to me?”

“Genius, right? So you’d make it how you like it.”

“You’re actually impossible,” you huffed, leaning against the railing beside him, taking a sip from the latte. “How did you know I work here?”

“I didn’t know. It’s fate,” he answered, shrugging.

“Stop bullshitting,” you sighed, pulling out a stick of cigarette from your handbag. This time, you didn’t need him to light it up. He watched you, gaze fixated on your lips before trailing up to your eyes. You caught him — he knew, though not at all embarrassed, lips tugging into a sly grin.

“Asked everyone in Radost if they knew a certain pretty girl,” he answered, running a hand through his hair. “They all called me crazy, pretty. Thank god Riku figured out that I was describing you.”

Riku. You had forgotten that you were somewhat connected to Haechan through Riku, with his boyfriend being in the same band. You also didn’t think he’d go to such lengths just for you.

You sighed, flicking the cigarette with your middle finger, throwing your head back to look at the dark blue skies.

“Do you like me that much?” you questioned, gaze settling on his. You always assumed the worst out of others, undoubtedly, but you were also good at reading people. Sincerity swirled in the brown hues of Haechan’s eyes, as he nodded.

“I do. I don’t know what it is. I just do.”

Has anyone ever said such sweet words to you before? No, you don’t think so. Especially not with such softness nor certainty, and it scared you. Weighing the decision in your head, Haechan stood silently, letting himself be engulfed by the cigarette smoke.

“Are cigarettes that nice?” he questioned, his voice hushed.

“You can try it for yourself,” you whispered back.

“Nah. I’ll try it if you’d blow the smoke into my mouth.” 

A chuckle left your lips. For a moment, you let the silence linger — and that’s when it dawned upon you. The comfortable silence, the effort he put in just to look for you, and the lack of pressure his words exuded. It wouldn’t be too bad if you gave him a chance. It really wouldn’t.

“I only do that on third dates,” you answered.

Haechan’s eyes widened. He looked at you — for the first time ever, he had lost all his cool, staring at you in disbelief.

“Oh,” the syllable slipped past his lips before he could stop them. A boyish grin graced his face.

“Okay. Bet, I’m holding you to that.”

★★★

taglist: @ch3rryd0ll @jenohyun @untilthesunrises @raevyng @peachysoso @peartreegarden @iliveforsmut3000 @chenlezip @222low @hyunverse

[remtrack]

excuses, excuses ★ park jisung.

tags: park jisung x gn!reader. 450 words. fluff, drabble. just jisung being cutieful!!!

jisung, who creates a multitude of excuses solely to spend more time with you. he’d stretch the time with his bare hands, just so your date doesn’t have to end. it starts with logical reasons:

“we should get a sweet treat before i send you home,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh.

you glance at the matcha in your cup holder, “i thought the drinks counted as sweet treats?”

“well, it’s different. i kind of want ice cream.”

fair enough. a five-minute drive after, you find yourself sitting opposite him at an ice cream parlour. he took a while to choose a flavour — it took a few testers for him to decide on one. jisung even insisted for you to try out the flavours, claims that you should try something new — you suspect that he simply wants to feed you. 

on your way to the car, he comes across a convenience store and tells you he’s craving for gimbap. again, you follow, letting him hold your hand and rub circles against your thumb as he finds for his desired flavour. the raven leans his head against your shoulder as he scans rack to rack. 

“don’t you want to get your favourite?”

you feel the shake of his head against your neck, “wanna try something new.”

“right…” 

it doesn’t end there. he takes the long way home, drives a slow pace with the windows down, and finally — to jisung’s dismay — he parks in your neighbourhood. but he doesn’t unlock the door just yet. instead, he unbuckles the seatbelt and turns towards you.

“it’s a full moon and the weather’s nice outside, shall we take a walk?”

“don’t you have recording early in the morning tomorrow, baby?”

jisung’s lips pucker into a pout — just slightly, but it’s still there. a chuckle slips past your lips before you lean over to peck his. cutely, he chases your lips as you pull away, pouting even more upon seeing you laugh.

“but i really want to go on a walk with you…”

“no you don’t,” you chuckle, “you just don’t want to end our date.”

instantly, a hue of pink grazes his pale skin. caught in his lie! jisung looks away, slumping in his seat. the hopeful glint in his eyes are replaced by one of defeat.

how could you say no to that face? and so, you tilt his face with your hand,

“we shouldn’t go on a walk, ‘cause it’s already midnight and you’ll be tired. how about you stay the night, hm? you can rest and you’ll still have me.”

alas, happiness etches its presence back onto jisung’s face. he’s smiling, wasting no time to press kisses onto your cheek.

...and, the cycle continues on every date. <3

taglist (fill in the form!): @ch3rryd0ll @jenohyun @untilthesunrises @raevyng @peachysoso @peartreegarden @iliveforsmut3000 @chenlezip

[remtrack]

thank u for tagging me 😛 this is legit me

🏷: @bamjjwi @82sim @armaegddn @midasriku anyone who wants to do it!

picrew tag game YIPPEE 🤩

here is the link

🏷️ : @cigsaftersuh @yutarot @lyvhie @sinisxtea @nebularsung @polarisjisung @sionfull @chenlezip @ayukas @82sim @cheers2hani @saeist @nanaxwi @glitterypinksworld @spacejip @yoshit-he-dinosaur @markkiatocafe @jirsungs @peterm4rker @remtrack @ohmytyong + anyone else who would like to participate!

[remtrack]

[remtrack]

250731 MARK (@ r_e__m___) IG Update

“Where the city breathes, lovers meet, and Seoul’s heartbeat runs free. Have you been there?”

[remtrack]

love saying "question mark?" out loud when I'm talking about something i'm unsure of

[remtrack]

haechan too fine lately. i'll suck your dick don't play boy

[remtrack]

happy birthday eren :) it’s been a while i hope you’re taking care of yourself!

hello!! sorry for the late reply, but thank you so much i truly appreciate this ^_^ hope you're well!!

[remtrack]

250726 HAECHAN

© FixtheRed : when_hc : chocobi_hc : everlasting_66

[remtrack]

its my birthday 🚬

[remtrack]

it's officially soft hours can u guys send soft thoughts juseyo