#enemies-to-lovers!han

[levanterhaze]

GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader this one is just pure angst and drama, no smut, just teasing each other like two idiots.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i had to continue this fic in a 2nd part, i felt necessary. maybe i'll continue it in a few more chapters (PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME) and thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has commented and appreciated this piece. it means a lot to a person who is non-native english wrt. without further ado, have a good read, loves!

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one]

you’re so indecisive of what I’m saying tryna catch the beat, make up your heart don't know if you're happy or complaining don't want for us to end, where do I start?

The pounding in your head was a testament to last night’s choices. Aspirin was non-negotiable. You could hear Eunji and Sohee's voices from the living room and were surprised that both of them were already awake after their all-nighter.

After leaving the room with Bangchan—because, of course, that happened—you ducked into the bathroom, shot off a text about vomiting and existential regret, and decided to make a graceful exit. Well, as graceful as one could manage after wild sex with the person you’d sworn to hate forever. Pride was nowhere in the equation, but who cared?

As soon as your eyes saw daylight, Eunji and Sohee looked at you judgmentally. You froze in your tracks, still wearing pink Hello Kitty jammies like a monument to your shame. Their judgment was immediate, sharp as a blade. Your heart sped up.

“You’re alive,” Sohee deadpanned, taking a bite of a cinnamon roll. “And looking like shit.”

“Appreciate it,” you shot back, throwing yourself into a chair. “Really warms the soul.”

Eunji’s smoothie slurp was unnecessarily loud, drilling straight into your skull. “We thought about waking you for breakfast but figured you’d need the recovery time.”

You dismissed the idea with a hand wave. "That's okay. Wouldn’t have gotten up anyway.”

"We can have lunch together, if you like. I really need a detox after last night." Sohee curled her lips into a grimace and you almost smiled. Detox advice from Sohee was peak irony.

But then Eunji, ever the chaos-bringer, dropped the bomb. “Oh my God, you guys, I heard the craziest thing last night! Jiwoon—my lit classmate—said he walked in on someone having super loud sex at the party. Guess who it was? Bangchan!”

Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

Silence remained and Sohee raised her eyebrows at Eunji.

“Apparently, the guy is a structural hazard,” Sohee chimed in, amused. “Minho said he once broke a floorboard. Who even does that?” Your red-haired friend says giggling.

Eunji giggled. “The girl’s lucky. If Bangchan wrecked me, I’d consider it an honor.”

You summoned your most convincing disdain, rolling your eyes with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed. “Honestly, can we not make him sound like some sort of deity?”

But guilt clung to you like a second skin, mingling with vivid flashes of last night—the furniture banging against the wall, Bangchan’s muscles taut as he tried to steady it. The memory burned, searing and humiliating, until Eunji’s voice yanked you back to reality.

The memory faded like mist when Eunji said it again. "Anyway, the girl’s lucky. I wish I was knocked down by Bangchan."

Lucky. That’s what they’d call you if they knew. Lucky—and a traitor to everything you’d loudly professed about hating him. They didn’t know it was you, and you intended to keep it that way.

From the tone of the chat, Jiwoon didn't see who was in the room with Bangchan, which means he didn't know you were the girl. Trying to ignore the talking and the sweat growing on your hands, you got up and declared that you were going to take a shower and maybe run some laps around the athletics track, because you really needed some fresh air.

The dorm felt claustrophobic. Eunji and Sohee were your best friends and you felt awful for not telling them the truth.

These were your best friends, but the truth felt like a grenade you couldn’t risk dropping. For months, you’d built your personality around despising Bangchan, and now? One night had unraveled it all.

Worst of all? You couldn’t stop replaying every second of it—and how much you’d loved it.

Sex had always been an exercise in mediocrity. Your exes? Predictably average, hitting the bare minimum on their way to their own finish line. As for finding the clitoris? Let’s just say they navigated like someone using a map upside down—an unsurprising disappointment every single time.

Now, though, Bangchan was something else entirely. A campus legend with a reputation as vast as it was unshakable. Everyone knew about his conquests—more women than you had fingers to count. Every rumor you’d rolled your eyes at turned out to be painfully, thrillingly true. He was better than anything you could have imagined.

Even after a long shower, his touch lingered, like phantom fingerprints etched into your skin. You could still feel him, every moment replaying in a maddening loop. No one had ever made you come twice in one night. No one. That fact alone made him unforgettable—and insufferably smug, no doubt.

Pulling on comfortable clothes, you grabbed a bag, stuffed in some essentials, and checked your phone. The group chat was overflowing with photos and messages from last night’s chaos, but you scrolled past all of it. There was only one person you needed right now.

You: Up for a morning run?

The reply came in under two minutes.

Hyunjin: It’s two in the afternoon. You: Morning for me. Hyunjin: Fine. Be there in five.

You tossed your phone into your bag and took a deep breath. A run was exactly what you needed—to burn off this restless energy and, hopefully, forget how guilty you felt.

You found Hyunjin on the running track near the outdoor field, surrounded by lush greenery and bursts of flowers the campus meticulously maintained. He looked effortlessly good, of course—baggy clothes hanging just right, dark hair falling over his face like it had been styled by the gods.

You started running side by side, silence settling between you. It was comfortable but heavy, like a bubble that needed popping. The kiss was the unspoken elephant on the track, but Hyunjin, ever observant, didn’t push. Not yet.

The day was crisp, the kind of weather that made you feel invincible. You poured your focus into your pace, and before you knew it, you’d pulled ahead. “Okay, okay—hold up,” Hyunjin called, his voice carrying just enough humor to make you smirk.

You stopped a few strides ahead, spinning on your heel to face him. He sauntered toward you, not even winded, like running was merely a mild inconvenience.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, his tone playful but probing.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you countered, already feeling your resolve falter.

“Uh-huh.” He stopped in front of you, his gaze narrowing. “Then why, exactly, did you ask me to kiss you last night?”

Well. There it was. No escaping now.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool as you grabbed the water bottle from your bag. “I was... needy, I guess.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, crossing his arms like he wasn’t buying it. “Needy, huh?”

“Look,” you said, exhaling sharply, “I’m sorry if it made things weird. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for that to get messed up.”

“Relax,” he said, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “A kiss isn’t going to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.”

His easy laugh melted some of your tension, but before you could respond, he clapped his hands together with mock seriousness. “Tell you what—first one to the other side of campus owes the winner a banana milk.”

The sudden challenge caught you off guard, and you raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, already turning on his heel to start jogging backward. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you bolted after him. “You’re so on.”

You lost the run, but of course, Hyunjin still paid for the drink. That summed him up as a friend.

After he dashed off to rehearse with Felix—because apparently, everyone else was rehearsing but you—a thought hit you like a lightbulb flickering to life. Rumors? Easy to spread. But if you wanted to get ahead of them, you had to go straight to the source.

With a mission in mind, you swaggered toward the gym where the basketball team was practicing. It wasn’t exactly classified info—every girl on campus could probably tell you when and where their training sessions were. You zipped your jacket up to your chin like it was some sort of emotional armor, grabbed your water bottle for moral support, and marched down the corridors. The door to the gym was already cracked open, and as you pushed it, everything seemed to slow down in the most dramatic way.

The guys were running drills, their shoes squeaking on the court like a broken record. The noise grated on your nerves, but you weren’t here for the sound; you were here for the spectacle. The stands were dotted with girls, some wrapped up in their player-boyfriend fantasies, while others... Well, who knows what they were thinking. You didn’t care. You had your eyes on the real prize today.

There he was, standing out like a sore thumb. His black and white uniform somehow looked too good on him. Focus, girl. You hid behind the staircase, crouched like a sneaky little spy, waiting for the game to wrap up.

It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually, the whistle blew. You adjusted your posture, trying to act casual, though you were definitely still paying attention to how the sweat trickled down Bangchan's forehead. It brought you war flashbacks. When the players scattered to grab towels and water, you took your cue to appear from behind the bleachers, giving a quick, awkward wave before ducking back again.

Bangchan's eyes scanned the area, and when they landed on you, his brows shot up in surprise.  In the meantime, he did the inevitable: he took off his shirt and used it to get dry. Great. Just great.

"Did you come to watch?" He smirked, that cocky grin of his. "Didn't know you were into basketball."

You rolled your eyes. His ability to flirt in every situation was almost impressive.

"Ha-ha. No." You sucked in a breath, desperately trying to obey your brain's commands. Don't look down. Don’t you dare look down. "Actually, I came to ask for a favor."

He leaned against the wall, eyebrow quirked, looking amused. "Okay...?"

“Right. I want what happened yesterday to stay a secret.”

Bangchan's eyebrow arched higher, an expression of entertained disbelief crossing his face. He crossed his arms, flexing those muscles in a way that made the mission of not looking at them impossible.

“'You think I'm going around saying we fucked?"

You roll your eyes, frustration building up, and clench your hand into a fist. Sure, say it louder, let the world know.

“Isn't that exactly what you do? Brag about your sexual life?”

The boy nodded, puffing out his chest, he shot back. "Ever heard me brag about it?"

“I don't need to hear it from you. The campus does it for you.” It was infuriating how this worked out. Everyone thought Bangchan was the type of guy, praising his victories and glorifying him every time he got between some girl's pants. 

Meanwhile, girls were severely censured for even kissing a guy at a party.

"Right. So you're just going off what people say about me?" His tone was challenging, like he couldn’t care less.

In a long drawn-out sigh, you fidgeted with your hands, intending to put the matter to one side. "Can you just keep this between us? I don't want anyone to know."

"Whatever, it's no big deal," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "If it's that important to you."

The words stung more than they should have. It wasn’t just the lack of care, it was the way he made it sound like it didn’t matter. No big deal. It hurt your pride, even if you didn’t mean it to. But that was Bangchan, wasn’t it? Haughty and self-righteous. Yeah, he was great in bed, but his attitude? Utterly shitty.

“Thanks.” You said it briefly, biting down your pride and leaving the scene as fast as you could. Speaking to him seemed like a fool's errand, but you couldn't risk it.

Behind you, Bangchan pursed his lips into a thin line, watching you go. To him, you were hopeless—always on guard, never letting your walls down. He knew he was right, even if it was a thin line. Sure, it was fun to rile you up, but it was maddening that you hated him for things he hadn’t even done.

Getting you to change your mind, though? That was the challenge. But if that’s what it took, he was more than willing to play the long game.

Early next week. Only Tuesday, and auditions loomed just a day away. You’d been agonizing over the perfect solo—one that wouldn’t just get you a role but the role. Monday was a blur of brainstorming with Hyunjin and Seungmin, your trusted theater comrades. Between swapping notes, debating song choices, and plenty of eye rolls, you managed to help each other refine your audition pieces. It was productive. Chaotic, but productive.

Your last hour of the day belonged to the theater, and it was sacred. The stage wasn’t just a place; it was a state of mind. The second the music hit, the world faded. Bills, homework, exes who ghosted you—it all melted away. Up there, you weren’t just alive; you were electric. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was instinct.

Your mom used to say you were born for the stage. She loved telling the story of how, as a kid, you’d belt out The Little Mermaid soundtrack so often the neighbors probably debated filing a noise complaint. Singing “Part of Your World” at the top of your lungs? A daily ritual. But the first time you sang for real—no plastic microphone, no stuffed animal audience—it clicked.

This was more than a passion. It was home.

Since high school, your hunger for the stage—and the spotlight—was insatiable. If there was a club, you wanted in. University was no different. People noticed you, not just for your knack for hitting sharp, glass-shattering high notes, but for your versatility. You could slip from sweet soprano to soulful belter faster than a drama major running late to class. On stage, you were magnetic.

Everyone gathered on stage, and Mrs. Baek appeared a few moments later with her round glasses and wavy hair around her face. Her figure was solid and powerful, as was her voice and knowledge.

But today, something was off. The crease on her forehead gave her away before she said a word. It was like a ripple of unease spread across the stage, and you didn’t miss a beat. You were already bracing for the bad news.

Then, a slim figure in a long skirt and boots strode into the center of the circle, sighing like she’d just carried the weight of the world—and maybe she had. “Okay, kids. Listen up.” Every pair of eyes locked onto her as if she were delivering the prophecy of doom. “We’re postponing the auditions. Indefinitely.”

Her announcement hit like a gut punch, and the stage erupted into chaos. Whispers turned to complaints, and complaints turned to full-blown outrage. Seungmin cast a skeptical glance at Mrs. Baek, then at you and Hyunjin, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

What the hell was going on?

“All right, settle down,” Mrs. Baek said, slipping her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose with that practiced mix of authority and exhaustion only she could pull off. “Jun-ho, our sound engineer, has officially dropped out of college. And to make matters worse, the university has decided to cut funding for the theater department in favor of... sports.”

“You're shitting me.” Nahee’s voice sliced through the commotion like a whip. She quickly caught herself, mumbling, “Sorry... but seriously—”

“That’s so unfair!” another voice chimed in from the back, frustration rippling through the group like a shockwave. “Basketball and soccer aren’t the only things this university has going for it.”

“I get it, kids. Believe me, I tried.” Mrs. Baek’s tone softened, but her words were anything but comforting. “I went to the administration, pleaded our case... But unless we can find enough volunteers and funding, I’m afraid auditions are canceled. Indefinitely.”

It felt like a cruel joke. The theater had always been your sanctuary, the one place where you could shed your armor and just be. And now? It was slipping through your fingers.

When Mrs. Baek dismissed the group, some students stormed out in anger, others lingered, trying to process what had just happened. For you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, the next logical step was the canteen. Food couldn’t fix this, but it was something.

“This is absurd. Now we're all supposed to close our eyes and applaud this nonsense?” Seungmin boomed as the three of you walked to the canteen. It was packed every day, regardless of the time of the day.

At a table outside, you spotted Sohee and Minho. Eunji, Changbin, Felix and Bangchan.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse...

“Tell me about it, I'm so pissed off!” Everyone looked at you, hearing loud and clear about your discontent. All three of you pulled up a chair and you sat down facing Changbin.

“Someone's jumpy.” Sohee leaned across the table. “What's wrong? You three look like shit.”

“It turns out the university cut the theater’s funding in favor of sports.” Your voice was sharp, and your glare shot directly at Bangchan, who was busy texting like the world wasn’t crumbling around him. He looked up, one eyebrow raised in confusion, as if you’d just accused him of single-handedly ruining the arts.

You looked away, rage bubbling in your veins.

“That sucks.” Felix shot back with a supportive smile. “I know how important the theater is to you guys.”

“Everyone’s been working so hard,” Seungmin muttered, sinking into his chair like the weight of the news had finally crushed him. “It’s just... unfair.”

A heavy silence settled over the table, broken only by the sound of Bangchan’s nails tapping on his phone screen. You glanced his way, the sight of him completely disengaged making your blood boil.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eunji twisted her lips, hopeful.

“Car wash?” Changbin suggested with a mischievous grin. “Classic fundraiser, right?”

“Sure,” you shot back, deadpan, “let’s exploit women for the sake of art.” Your glare could’ve leveled him then and there. Changbin leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine. What about food?” Sohee jumped in, glancing at Minho for support. “Muffins, cupcakes, something simple. People love that stuff.”

Hyunjin's face lights up like a light bulb. “Felix makes brownies. Amazing brownies.”

Felix smirked, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don’t wanna brag, but they’re basically legendary.”

“Alright, then.” Changbin grinned, pointing a finger gun between Felix and you. “You two make the brownies. And we,” he motioned to himself and Bangchan, “sell them.”

You and Bangchan exchange glances for a millisecond.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,”  he says, a wicked smile slipping from his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, laughing. “What? Are you going to sell brownies naked around campus?”

The grin widened, and that’s when you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Felix had assured you he could handle everything, but your stubbornness wouldn’t let you sit this one out. If it was for the theater, you were all in. He handed over his famous brownie recipe like it was a national secret.

So, on Thursday, you got hands-on. Literally.

Eunji had come through with the shopping, and soon your dorm looked like a war zone—chocolate smudges on the counters, flour dusting the floor, and batter splattered in places you couldn’t quite explain. You only had a cramped space and a big dream of pulling this off.

You were just pouring the batter into a pan when a sharp knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your skirt, you swung it open, expecting maybe Eunji or Hyunjin. Instead, there stood Bangchan, leaning casually against the door frame like he had nowhere else to be.

“Uh… hello?” You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Bangchan stood back for a second, observing how exceptionally good you looked.

“So… newsflash,” he started, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You might wanna double that recipe.”

Confusion flashed across your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He straightened up, clearly enjoying your puzzled reaction. “I may have the entire basketball team to help out with the sale.”

Your jaw dropped as his words sank in. “You what?”

His grin widened at your disbelief. “You heard me. More hands, more sales. I figured we could use the hype.”

It was insane. But it was also brilliant. A rush of excitement shot through you, lighting up your face. “That’s… that’s fantastic!” you blurted, beaming before instinctively biting your lip to rein in your enthusiasm.

Bangchan tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Thought you’d like that.”

“Oh, shit. I'll tell Felix, we're going to need an extra oven.” You walked over to the coffee table, where your phone was.

Before you could dial, Bangchan’s voice cut through your focus. “You shouldn’t go there.” He was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression surprisingly earnest. “It’s a mess. Like, biohazard-level chaos.” You lose heart, trying to think of another alternative. “You can use my dorm. If you want.” He quickly adds the last sentence.

Your stomach dropped at the suggestion. The idea of stepping into Bangchan’s dorm felt like walking into enemy territory. Risky. Dangerous. Not worth the potential fallout. “It’s fine,” you said, waving him off. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

But Bangchan leaned against the doorframe, his smirk resurfacing. “You sure? There are a lot of brownies to bake, and I don’t think you’ve got all night.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Time was slipping through your fingers like sand, and with the entire basketball team now involved, efficiency was critical. “Fine,” you muttered, hating the way the word tasted in your mouth. “But only if you help.”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

It turned out Bangchan’s “help” involved more than just offering his kitchen. He insisted on carrying every utensil, baking sheet, and ingredient across campus himself, as though showing off how capable he was. By the time you arrived at his so-called dorm, you’d pieced together another puzzle about him.

Rich, but not obnoxiously so. Still, his “dorm” was more like a chic little apartment, complete with a full kitchen, two bedrooms, and sleek decor that screamed privilege. The space was annoyingly Bangchan—polished, put together, and just distant enough to be intriguing.

“Cool place.” You muttered after he closed the door behind you. Scanning the room and trying not to sound impressed.

“Thanks.” he gave you a smile. “So, this is the kitchen.” He motioned to a modern setup that looked like it belonged in a Food Network show. Top class stuff. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” you replied, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Not just for the space but… you know, for helping.”

It was obvious that he was making this effort because the theater was important to his friends Seungmin and Hyunjin. Why else would he do all this? Still, you appreciated it.

His lips twitched into a grin. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back the retort bubbling at your tongue. Play nice. He’s helping. 

“Relax,” he added, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. There’s booze in the fridge, by the way. Help yourself.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, sidestepping the offer.

“I’ve gotta sort something out with the coach,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll be back in 20. Think you’ll survive here alone?”

Honestly, being in his apartment without him sounded like the best possible scenario. You gave a small nod. “Yeah, no worries.”

With that, he left, and the door clicked shut behind him. You exhaled, a long breath that carried the weight of the past few days. Now you were in enemy territory, surrounded by his world, and somehow, that felt far more personal than it should.

How had this become your life? Baking brownies in Bangchan’s kitchen? It was almost as absurd as sleeping with him—a mistake you’d promised yourself you’d never make. But here you were, crossing one forbidden line after another.

You weren’t exactly a disaster in the kitchen, but you weren’t a pro either. Somehow, though, in thirty minutes flat, four trays of brownies were baking away in Bangchan’s fancy oven. The rest of the kitchen, however, looked like a war zone. Eggshells piled in the sink. Flour scattered across the floor. Chocolate batter smeared on your shirt. Your skirt? A masterpiece of handprints from raw dough. But hey, it was all for the sake of art—and funding.

While you whisked and poured, you couldn’t resist turning on your favorite song, What Is This Feeling from Wicked. Singing along word for word, you hit every high note with a grin. That song had landed you the role of Glinda in high school, and the nostalgia hit you square in the chest. Those were good times. Simpler times.

The chorus was still ringing in your ears as you crouched to scrub a stubborn chocolate stain on the floor. That’s when the door swung open, and Bangchan walked in, freezing mid-step as he surveyed the chaos.

“Holy shit. Are you all right?” he asked, his tone somewhere between amusement and genuine concern.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you scrambled to turn off the music. In your rush, your phone slipped from your flour-dusted hands and landed on the counter with a soft thud. You straightened, cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing your hands on your already-ruined skirt. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”

He looked around, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. His eyes flicked from the chaotic kitchen to you, taking in the state of your clothes. “You’ve got something… there,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the chocolate smear on your shoulder.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll head back to the dorm and clean this up.”

Bangchan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your plan. “I can lend you a shirt. Might make you feel more comfortable.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “But thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind his neck and yanked off the black shirt he was wearing, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and a devilish grin. “Here,” he said, holding the shirt out to you like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “You know you could’ve just grabbed another shirt, right? Like, one you’re not currently wearing?”

He leaned in slightly, the grin widening in a way that made your stomach flip. “And where’s the fun in that?”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, equal parts annoyed and flustered. His shirt hung in the air between you, a silent dare. Finally, you snatched it from his hand, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, unbothered, and strolled over to the counter like he hadn’t just walked into the kitchen half-dressed.

After a few minutes, you walked back into the kitchen, now wearing Bangchan’s shirt. It hung a little loose on you, the soft fabric brushing against your skin and carrying a mix of fresh laundry and whatever cologne he used. Not that you noticed. Much.

Bangchan was at the sink, scrubbing a mixing bowl. His back was to you at first, but when he turned around, his gaze lingered a second too long before he coughed and looked back down. “Did you know,” he started, shaking his head with a teasing grin, “that you’re officially the world’s clumsiest cook? There’s brownie batter... under the sink.”

You glanced at the cabinet beneath the counter, then back at him. “Hey, I said I’d clean up,” you defended, marching into the kitchen with your head held high. “And for the record, I never claimed to be a good cook. I’m just trying to help.”

Bangchan barked out a laugh, drying his hands on a towel. “Help? No fucking way. You’re a disaster, love.”

You froze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, the oversized sleeves of his shirt only slightly undermining your indignation. “I didn’t see you stepping up to bake anything.. Let’s see you handle a whisk without breaking something.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. “Trust me, I’d still be better than whatever chaos you’ve got going on here.”

Your lips quirked into a slow smirk, and you reached for the bag of flour on the counter. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see you handle this.” Before he could react, you scooped a handful of flour and tossed it right at him, the fine powder exploding across his chest like a smoke bomb.

Bangchan froze for a second, blinking down at the mess. Then, his lips curved into a wicked grin that should have been your warning. “Oh, it’s on now.”

With your hands on your lip, you realized that you had fucked up. “I'm sorry, I...”

Too late. In the blink of an eye, Bangchan scooped up the sugar and poured it all over your hair. You stared, half-shocked, half-impressed by his audacity. You parted your lips to fire back, but before a word could escape, the sound of his laughter erupted from deep in his chest.

“Really? Is this how it’s gonna go?” You grabbed the cocoa powder with a grin. Oh, he wanted a war? You were so ready. “Bring it on,” you shot back, face lighting up with mischief. 

You were almost halfway to smearing him with chocolate when his hand shot out and stopped yours midair. The cocoa slipped through your fingers, and just like that, your plan hit the ground.

Then, you collided—chest to chest. Bangchan wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the shift in the air, the heat between you two now undeniable. His lips curled into that damn smirk, the one that told you everything. Your heart was racing, but the thought of pulling away didn’t even cross your mind. The only question now was who was going to make the first move.

A silent battle passed between you two. His gaze locked onto yours, sensing the shift in your expression—less defiant, more... willing. And just like that, the tension morphed into something else, something undeniable.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. Bangchan’s breath hitched, a soft grunt escaping him at the sudden contact. Your hands, still coated with the remnants of your baking disaster, slid over his broad shoulders. You were a mess, sugar and flour everywhere, but somehow, it made everything feel a little more real. And Bangchan? He didn’t seem to mind one bit.

All he seemed to care about was having your lips on his. And fuck, you could feel how much he wanted it.

Bangchan grabbed your ass possessively, squeezing it and making a raspy moan escape your lips. You pushed him against the wall, without detaching your lips, savoring how the softness of his lips felt like cotton candy.

When you finally broke away, your chests heaving, your fingers still pressed into his skin, you met his gaze. His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, and you could feel the pull between you intensify again, magnetic.

“I should probably clean up this mess.” your voice broke the tension, but the realization hit harder than it should’ve. Bangchan was clearly fed up with your habit of diving in and then ghosting the consequences. 

“Don’t you dare.” his voice was low, the words like a command you weren’t about to ignore. His eyes locked with yours—intense. “You want this.” his lips brushed against yours, a tease that made your heart leap, while his words hung heavy in the air. “I know you do.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but him.

“Bangchan.” You whispered, barely able to breathe. The heat from his hardness spread like wildfire, and your body seemed to betray you. “We can’t.” you licked your lips—stupid, because he was already there, sealing your protest with a sloppy kiss, stealing that last ounce of restraint.

You were losing it. Why did he have to be so... goddamn good at this?

“Oh yeah?” he pulled away, just enough to make you regret the distance. “Tell me one good reason. Just one.”

You snorted, doing everything you could to hold it together, but the pull between you was undeniable. “Please.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but instead he closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, walking away, but the air between you two still crackled.

The rest of the kitchen cleanup was like some strange form of punishment. You moved in sync, two people acting like they hadn’t just burned down every ounce of decorum in the room. The silence was deafening, the kind of awkward that made you wish you could pull the floor open and swallow you whole. But instead, you just scrubbed harder, hoping it’d drown out the thundering thoughts in your head.

He pulled away, no jokes, no teasing—just silence. It was like a switch had flipped, and the tension that had once sparked between you now lay dormant, suffocating. You didn't know if you hated the quiet or if you hated yourself more for letting things go as far as they had.

When everything was finally done, he still helped you carry your things to the dorm, his touch lingering just a little too long as he adjusted the bag over your shoulder. You were too busy battling the whirlwind of your own thoughts, replaying every moment, every look, and cursing both him and yourself for what you’d just crossed into.

You hated how easy it had been. How natural. And you hated even more that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret it—at least, not yet.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik

[pomegranateplumes]

To the people who are complaining about the optional Hans romance that was just revealed:

1. You're so afraid of two men kissing, lol, fucking fragile

2. It's optional, you don't have to go down that route

3. "Weehh but they were both straight af in the first one" Take a wild fucking guess what time period they're in and what would happen to them if they were just a little gay in broad daylight

4. Bi people exist, and no one, no matter their sexuality or identity, owes you proof of it because then you're just a huge fucking creep

5. It's optional, you don't have to go down that route

6. Plus, I thought people's sexuality isn't supposed to be flaunted about and made a big deal, but damn, being straight sure is

7. IT'S OPTIONAL, YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO DOWN THAT ROUTE

[noramsblog]

Love at first yell

[honey-bird10]

Been reading the novel of tscir and I'm starting to think yoojin could call hyunjae a "motherfucker" and he'd just reply "yes mommy"

[chancheols]

"I feel like I had nothing to hide. I didn't feel like I had to show you my good side. I feel like I can be myself around you."

[twistedappletree]

Look, I just think we as a fandom have not considered an alternative Hansry ending where Jitka is a lesbian, her and Hans are in a lavender marriage and have agreed to let each other do whatever the hell they please when it comes to lovers. Jitka gets to pursue all the beautiful lady knights and court damsels while Henry and Hans continue being grossly in love disaster bisexuals who go on way too many hunting trips. Everyone respects each other, nobody’s unhappy because they���re all getting what they want and nobody outside of their relationship can sabotage it because they’re all in agreement with the situation and can just laugh in their faces while being absolutely, unapologetically queer.

[justice4gyeongsu]

━━━ 'CHAPTER FOUR' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ a fast-spreading outbreak soaks the school in blood. quite literally & figuratively.

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; classism, homophobia, bullying, embarrassment, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

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[DAY OF THE OUTBREAK…]

sitting at your front door, tying your shoes, you can't shake the feeling that something's off. last night's sleep was weirdly quiet - no dreams, no whispers in your ear, no memories bubbling up to the surface. just a big, empty space where your subconscious usually runs wild. it's unnerving, to be honest. you're used to your mind being a bit of a battlefield, even when you're sleeping. but last night, it was like someone hit the mute button. and now you're left wondering if this is what it's like when... well, when it's all over. is it just silence? nothingness?

the thought sends a shiver down your spine. you're not sure what's more unsettling - the idea of an afterlife that's just a blank slate, or the possibility that last night was just a weird fluke. either way, you can't shake the feeling that something's shifted, and you're not sure what's coming next.

your father's footsteps broke the spell, and you refocused on tying your shoes as the TV droned on in the background. the familiar sounds of his morning routine were comforting - washing dishes, drinking tea, and making job calls. occasionally, he'd cook breakfast, a rare treat when finances allowed. you'd learned to supplement your meals with snacks from school, stashing them away for weekends.

as the news anchor spoke, a name caught your attention - "missing student from hyosan high" - and you turned to see the scientist teacher's son on screen. but before you could process the news, your father's gruff voice cut in, "what'd you do to your hair?" his question was a stark reminder of your own daily struggles. you hesitated, a sheepish shrug your only response. the salt spray you'd applied to enhance your natural texture had slipped your mind, but the 35 anxious glances in the mirror hadn't. you'd sought validation in your reflection, ensuring the subtle waves framed your face just so. "just wanted to, uh, try something different," you mumbled, the words trailing off like a hesitant confession.

your father's gaze lingered for a moment, as if searching for a hidden meaning, before he turned away, disappearing into his room. the unspoken dismissal was clear: time to head out. with a quiet sigh, you grabbed your bag and slipped out the door, leaving the uncertainty of your father's reaction behind, like a lingering whisper in the morning air.

as you locked the door, a spark of excitement ignited. you headed down the steps with enthusiasm, careful not to trip. today was a first: ditching the bus for your bike. it was a small change, but one that filled you with unexpected joy. the prospect of feeling the wind and sun on your face was exhilarating. you smiled at how something so simple had awakened a sense of adventure. your feet hit the concrete with a loud thud, and as you looked up, three imposing figures loomed before you. their black coats billowed behind them like dark wings, and their smiles seemed to hold a sinister intent. you knew exactly who they were - and your heart sank. one of them concealed a bat behind his back, and your excitement was replaced with icy fear. paralyzed, you couldn't even think of calling the police. your father's words still lingered in your mind: "if you want me to live, let them beat me." the memory of his scolding made your stomach twist with anxiety. the men simply walked past you and began to head to the door you once came from only seconds ago. with shaking hands, you hastily untied your bike and stuffed the chain into your backpack, desperate to escape the ominous scene unfolding before you.

as you entered the classroom, your gaze instinctively sought out choi namra, your deskmate and sole point of reference. the murmur of conversations momentarily subsided as you took your seat, but you stood firm, refusing to be swayed by the subtle scrutiny of your peers. today, you had made a deliberate choice to style your hair, sweeping it aside to reveal your face in a departure from your usual disheveled appearance. the tangled locks that often obscured your features were now neatly parted, with wavy bangs framing your tired eyes. just as you settled into your chair, a gentle voice pierced the air, speaking from behind namra, who was engrossed in her textbooks. onjo's warm, kind eyes met yours, accompanied by a soft smile and a subtle thumbs-up. "y/n-ah, you look great today," she said, her words catching you off guard with their sincerity. a spark of surprise ignited within you, leaving you momentarily breathless. did she just say.. great?

your eyes only blankly blinked at her words until you cleared your throat, “w-what?” you asked. unfortunately, the sound of a high-pitched voice had cut off onjo’s next words. “yah!” the entire classroom was now facing a pink-cardigan-wearing nayeon who angrily stepped towards her desk. to which, he was surrounded by wujin and his friends. “get off of there. you stink,” she commanded to gyeongsu, who was sitting on top of her desk. your eyebrows raised at the interaction, gyeongsu hopped off the abnormally upset girl's desk. “oh, okay. my bad,” he spoke with a slight confusion in her tone. he proceeds to wipe off any excess ‘stink’ that he might have left, nayeon raises her voice once again at this. “cut it out! you're so dirty,” she shouts in disgust while moving her backpack away from him. to say that nayeon was privileged was an understatement, but you knew that already. “what the hell is your problem?” gyeongsu murmurs before taking a step forward in rising annoyance.

luckily, his friend cheongsan wraps his arms around his shoulder and tells him to just let it go. knowing that arguing with a disdainful girl like nayeon was practically a suicide mission. before the situation could escalate for the worse, the teacher stepped foot into the classroom. signaling everyone to stop chatting and head to their respective seats.

as the chairs scraped against the floor, your gaze wandered to the window. a tiny mosquito buzzed against the pane, trying to get in. this reminded you of what those threatening men called your father - a mosquito. they said he was a nuisance who took risks and left problems behind. you wondered why your father never talked about his life, before or now. he kept his secrets to himself, never sharing anything you wanted to know. his silence was frustrating, and you wished he would open up.

“alright everyone, c'mon bring up the phones.” your teacher announced. everyone piled to the front to bring their phones, it wasn't something you cared for. the only person you would text nowadays should be your father. if he didn't get a new one every other week that is.

with what money? you never did ask.

when everyone finishes turning their phones in the teacher, being as intelligent as she is, texts the classroom group chat and you suddenly hear a notification sound coming from right in front of you. your long-ago friend, wujin, and to the right of him, was daesu. who quickly looked behind him and looked at namra and you. pretending it was you two who had their phone still, however the entire class knew it was him. including your teacher. “daesu, seriously?” a voice asked in disbelief as the rest of the class laughed at his failed scheme so early in the morning.

the teacher began to go on about english studies and you tried your best to focus this time. to put in effort and change your lifestyle around. you're gonna be the best version of yourself, you're tired of trying to blend in and be accepted, and you will exceed in everything you do your studies, the way you carry yourself, everything. today was the day when you no longer lived in fear and humiliation. the new you was something you are ready for and you're starting to no longer care if others aren't. “y/n-ah!” your head snapped up to the teacher who smiled at you and pointed at your hair, “you look so handsome, wow.” to say your cheeks heat up in embarrassment was an understatement, the class had quiet giggles and all eyes were on you once again. you nodded your head and awkwardly cleared your throat. “let's see… how about you give me your take on individuality, in this case?” she points to the chalkboard where she wrote her previous inquisitions.

with a surge of determination, you straightened your posture, shedding the timid persona that had held you back for so long. just 24 hours ago, you were a different person, but now, you were ready to evolve. taking a deep breath, you began to speak, your voice steady and clear. "um, in this character's case, …she lacks the idea of being her own person. she feeds off of what her friends decide at every moment.." you carefully avoided eye contact with your classmates, focusing intently on your words. "meaning that she kinda sets herself up for disappointment when her results don't match her peers." as you finished speaking, you felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. your teacher's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a moment of silence hung in the air before she responded, "perfect answer." the words hung in the air like a badge of honor, a testament to your growth and newfound confidence.

suddenly, her eyes darted to the other side of the classroom and her gleeful demeanor changed instantly to a sternful one. “you, bare-su, stand up.” everyone's eyes shot to the back of the class, except yours. “what's with ‘bare-su’?” she asks as he stands up and everyone laughs once again but a little louder now. as you stare out the window, the uncomfortable conversation fades into the background. you'd rather not dwell on the past or revisit old emotions.

the warm sunbeams streaming through the glass wrap around you, and your mind begins to wander. a familiar figure pedals into your daydream - the boy from the bike shop, with eyes like a fox and dark hair that makes your heart skip a beat. the memory of him is a balm to your soul, a sight that soothes your eyes and stirs your pulse. the thought of seeing him again sends a thrill through you, and you can't help but wonder when your paths will cross once more.

kyungho, kyungho, kyungho…

the name stuck to you while you gaze at nothing in the classroom. “oh yeah? what did y/n just say then?” the teacher's question cut through the air, snapping you back to reality as it echoed off the wooden classroom walls. suhyeok's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze fixed on you as if seeing you in a new light. your hair, styled differently, and your eyes, no longer hidden, seemed to have caught him off guard. as his gaze met yours, you quickly looked away, pretending not to care, trying to conceal the flutter in your chest. you didn't want him to think you still had feelings for him, that his presence still affected you.

“he uh… he said..”

just as suhyeok was about to speak, hyeonju burst into the classroom, her shocking appearance captivating everyone's attention. her face was pale, with blood trickling down her cheeks and lips. gasps filled the room as the teacher called out her name, but hyeonju collapsed to the ground, unresponsive. classmates rushed to her side, forming a circle around her as ms. park rushed to her aid. you remained seated, stunned, as ms. park cradled hyeonju's limp body, her face a picture of brutal injury. it looked like she had been hit by a car, with deep gashes and bruises covering her skin. the room was filled with worried murmurs and shocked expressions, as everyone struggled to process the scene unfolding before them.

you stood slowly from your seat when you heard someone ask their friend beside them “did she just say the science teacher drugged her?” your heart dropped. you had had some odd conversations with the science teacher before. him asking you to stay a bit after class and telling you if you felt like you needed to defend yourself from others, to always fight back, and then they’ll leave you alone.

little did he know that you have already done that and it still didn't exactly solve your crisis. you would just nod and awkwardly look away before saying you had to be home soon or else your father was going to come looking for you, even if you both knew, he probably wouldn't. on certain days, the man's demeanor shifted to one of frantic urgency, as he emphasized the harsh principles of survival of the fittest. his intensity was unsettling, leaving you concerned about his well-being. before you could ask if he was okay, he would dismiss you, leaving your questions unspoken. reflecting on these encounters, you revisited the memories, searching for any subtle signs that might have hinted at his inner turmoil.

“we gotta get her up, can you get up, hyeonju-ah?” the teacher tried speaking calmly, but every student in the room knew she was frightened just as much as you all were. “i'll carry her,” suhyeok offered, and began carrying the drifting girl on his back with isak and onjo following out shortly behind. ms. park closed the sliding door, leaving all the students to gather in small groups and discuss what they had just witnessed.

the lunch bell's gentle chime echoed through the school's corridors, signaling the start of the midday break. students sprang into action, eager to escape their classrooms. but you lingered, lost in thought, as you made your way out. questions swirled in your mind: what was wrong with hyeonju? why were people blaming the science teacher? would she recover? and then, a nagging doubt: was suhyeok really looking at me-

you looked up to see cheolsu, a quiet boy often overlooked by his peers, crumpled on the floor. he winced in pain, his eyes wide with surprise, as if your accidental stare had been a physical blow. "oh, cheolsu, are you okay?" you asked, offering a helping hand and lifting him up with ease. the height difference between you two was striking, with cheolsu's slouched posture making him appear even smaller. "ugh, s-sorry...i was in a rush," he stuttered, his eyes cast downward, a habitual gesture that spoke volumes about his struggles.

you shook your head and apologized, "no, sorry, my fault, I wasn't paying attention." as you took a deep breath, your gaze lingered on the scabs around his neck, a subtle hint of a hidden struggle. sensing your notice, he seemed to shield his secret, and you instinctively covered the area with a gentle touch, pretending to rub his neck. seeking to shift the focus, you asked, "heading to the cafeteria?" but he sidestepped your question, his eyes locking onto your hair as he asked, "what's up with your hair?" the familiar criticism stung, a reminder of the constant scrutiny you'd been facing.

“j-just uh,” you hesitate, “doing something different,” you responded while clearing your throat, trying oh so desperately to avoid the awkward ambiance. cheolsu stared at your new look for a few more seconds until he looked at something behind you, his eyes widened before moving to the wall quickly. bewildered by his action, turning to see someone you despised. myunghwan, walking with changhoon smirked as they looked in both of your directions.

your heart sank as you turned to face myunghwan, his smug expression making your blood boil. changhoon, walked alongside him, a sneer twisting his features. you felt cheolsu's tension beside you, his eyes fixed on the duo with a mixture of wariness and hostility.

"look at this," myungwhan stated. they snickered to one another. you rolled your eyes and looked away trying to keep yourself neutral despite the growing unease in your chest. myunghwan chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. his gaze roved over your new appearance, his expression dripping with disdain. "i see, you're trying to.. reinvent yourself," you rolled your eyes, fists clenched. “fuck off.”

but myunghwan just laughed, his eyes glinting with malice. "what, y/n? you gonna defend your new boyfriend? how cute.." you felt a surge of anger at his jab, but cheolsu's warning glance kept you from responding. changhoon, however, seemed eager to stir up more trouble. "yeah, what's going on between you two? you're not...together, are you?"

the air seemed to thicken with tension as myunghwan's smirk grew wider. you knew you had to defuse the situation before it escalated further. but how? you felt a familiar knot in your stomach as myunghwan's smirk seemed to grow roots, digging deeper into your skin. "what's going on here?" a soft voice interrupted, slicing through the thick air.

you turned to see a quiet figure emerging from the crowd, their eyes fixed on changhoon with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

myunghwan's smirk faltered, and for a moment, you saw a glimmer of uncertainty. "just having a little chat," he said, his tone dripping with false nonchalance. the nurse's gaze lingered on myunghwan before shifting to you and cheolsu. "looks like a pretty one-sided conversation to me." the air seemed to vibrate with unspoken words, and you sensed a hidden dynamic at play. myunghwan's eyes narrowed, but the nurse's calm demeanor didn't waver. you looked down to see a rather odd looking infection on the nurses arm. her arm turning an almost black color, her neck twitching. cheolsu and you shared a look of concern, “um..m-miss…” cheolsu couldn't bring himself to ask so he simply pointed at her revealing forearm.

but before he could say another word, the nurse's eyes rolled back in her head, revealing only whites. her body began to twitch and convulse, her limbs flailing wildly like a puppet on a broken string. her skin turned a sickly shade of green, as moldy bread and dark veins bulge beneath the surface like twisted rivers. a low, guttural moan escaped her lips, growing louder and more menacing with each passing moment. she lunged at changhoon, her fingers grasping for his face like claws, her teeth snapping wildly with almost animalistic hunger. changhoon screamed, his voice high-pitched and terrified, as the nurse's zombie form tackled him to the ground. her hands closed around his head, her fingers digging into his hair like talons. cheolsu stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet as he desperately tried to escape the horror unfolding before him. his eyes were wide with fear, his face pale and sweaty. “what the…?”

suddenly the nurse took a huge chunk of the screaming boys cheek with her teeth. his screams reached new heights as he frantically tried to shake off the nurse's grip, but she held firm. his eyes widened in terror as he realized the nurse's eyes had turned a strange, almost feral gray. just as suddenly as it had begun, the nurse released her grip on the boy's cheek, and he stumbled backward, clutching at the wound. myungwhan saw the opportunity to shove her however, she had other plans. she rushed at him next but myungwhan turned around and shoved you while swiftly running away down the hallway. where many students were gathered around eyeing the intense and gorey happening just seconds ago. they all screamed and began to scatter, seeing that now changhoon was thrashing on the ground uncontrollably.

you hold your shoulder with your right hand, myungwhan had shoved you with full force causing your shoulder to ache and sting. you wince as you quickly gather yourself. you grabbed cheolsu’s arm, pulling him away from the chaos with a strength that was almost desperate. "we need to get out of here, now!" you yelled, dragging him down the hallway as the sound of the nurse's moans echoed behind you, growing fainter but no less terrifying.

cheolsu stumbled after you, your heart racing with fear. the hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the lockers and classrooms blurring together in a mad whirl of color and sound. you could hear the distant moans of people, growing fainter but still echoing through the corridors like a chilling reminder of the horror you'd just witnessed.

"wait, slow down!" he yelled, his voice hoarse from fear.

you didn't listen. your eyes were fixed on the outside quad, you could hear the distant moans and screams, growing louder with every step. you wrenched open the doors and shoved cheolsu first outside before you. "close it! close it!" you shouted, following close behind. as you shut the doors, you see students screaming inside and running into classrooms. panting, you gripped your shoulder once again in pain, while you both noticed people running away outside as well. “shit,” you cursed. “run! everyone run!” you turned to hear a girl screaming while running across the schools soccer field only to get tackled by two other bloodied peers. cheolsu shared a look with you before you both ran toward the outside set of stairs of the school as the infected horde burst through the doors you were once holding behind you.

climbing up the stairs, step by step, you felt weightless until a sudden jolt sent you flying. your body rolled and bounced, landing with a sickening crack on your shoulder. the pain was excruciating, and your scream echoed through the staircase as you finally came to rest at the bottom. gritting your teeth, you opened your eyes to see the cause of your fall: a girl with black braided pigtails, her leg twisted at an unnatural angle, bone protruding from her skin. her eyes, bloodshot and wild, locked onto yours as she gurgled and began to crawl towards you with an unnatural speed. you rolled onto your side, desperate to escape, but she climbed on top of you, her grip on your sweater tightening as she pulled herself up to your face. with a surge of adrenaline, you grabbed a nearby rock with your one good hand and swung it behind you, connecting with a sickening crunch.

in a stroke of luck, the rock sent the girl flying onto the grass, momentarily freeing you. as you gazed up, cheolsu remained paralyzed on the same step, his eyes wide with shock. “cheolsu, help-” you yelled, but the girl latched onto your ankle, attempting to sink her teeth in. you grunted, shaking her off with a series of swift kicks. cheolsu's horror-stricken expression lingered as the girl scaled you once more, her relentless grip unyielding. trying to wriggle free from the girls grasps, you look around quickly to find anything to get away.

just as all hope seemed lost, a fleeing girl accidentally collides with your attacker, diverting her attention. seizing the opportunity, you broke free from the infected girl's grasp. you looked up to see cheolsu's fleeting glance before he turned tail and sprinted up the stairs, abandoning you. “wait, w-where are you going?” you shouted, alarm rising in your voice.

as cheolsu vanished from sight, you sprang to your feet, still reeling from the harrowing encounter. but your relief was short-lived, as another classmate - bloodied and bizarre - began to stir across the school yard. his eyes locked onto yours with a menacing glare, and he charged towards you with a ferocious intensity, plowing through others in his path. his bloody mouth twisted into a snarl as he sprinted closer, and you gasped in terror, bracing yourself for the impending impact. but just as he launched himself into the air, something unexpected happened - a shocking savior appeared out of nowhere, sparing you from the brink of disaster. your eyes widened in astonishment as you turned to behold the last person you ever expected to save your skin.

“we gotta move! come on,” suhyeok grabbed your good arm and pulled you alongside him. you grunted while running feeling a sharp pain every time you moved your body to keep up. you noticed he wasn't alone, choi namra was beside him as well. you never seen her face in any other emotion besides serious. right now, it was horrified.

"what's.. what the fuck is going on?" you panted, wincing in pain as suhyeok's grip tightened around your arm. "what's happening to everyone?"

suhyeok didn't answer, his eyes fixed on some point ahead as he dragged you through the chaotic school yard. choi namra kept pace beside him, her horrified expression never wavering. her eyes darted towards you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a flicker of concern before her mask of seriousness slipped back into place.

"let me fucking go!" you demanded, trying to keep up with suhyeok's frantic pace. you ripped your arm away from him as you kept running.

"hurry up,," he gritted out, his jaw clenched in determination. "we need to get out of here, now." as you ran, the sounds of mayhem grew louder - screams, crashes, and an eerie, unsettling laughter that sent shivers down your spine. you risked a glance over your shoulder, and what you saw made your blood run cold. the school yard was descending into chaos. students were attacking each other, their eyes vacant, their movements jerky and unnatural. some teachers tried to intervene, but they were vastly outnumbered. the once-familiar surroundings were now a war zone, with desks overturned, windows shattered, and debris scattered everywhere.

suhyeok yanked you back into a sprint, his grip on your arm like a vice. "don't look back!" he yelled. "keep moving!" choi namra kept pace beside him, her eyes scanning their surroundings with a mix of fear and determination. "we need to find a safe place to hide," she shouted above the din. suhyeok nodded, his eyes fixed on a point ahead. "there!"

he led you towards the ladder that was leading up to a window in the school building. you all rushed towards it, once close enough you pushed namra to go first, “go, try to open-”

“no, its not safe. i'll go,” suhyeok states before moving her aside and beginning to climb the ladder, you attempted to hold back an eye-roll. if namra and you were down by where the crazy students were, how were you guys safer..?

you didn't ask the question aloud, as there was no time to bicker over insignificant things. suddenly, you seen two figures barreling towards you and namra. “namra, go up, now!” you grabbed her hand and hoisted her onto the ladder, “go! climb!” you seen suhyeok was being pulled into the window, quickly going back to reach for namra. as namra's feet disappeared into the window, you felt a surge of relief wash over you. but it was short-lived, as you saw suhyeok's eyes widen in terror. "hurry! hurry!" he shouted, his voice strained. you turned to him and tried as quickly as possible to climb with two legs and one working arm. you could hear then snarling as you went upward, when you start to feel the ladder tipping back and forth. the weight of the two men making the ladder almost fold under the pressure, “come on! you got it!”

suhyeoks voice rung through your ears, the burning in your shoulder making you wanna just give up, as you reach your arm for the next step, you suddenly feel yourself being grabbed and hoisted upwards. your body feeling light when you came through the window. suhyeok pulled you with all his might and the pull carried you both to the nearby wall. you stumbled into your dimly lit english classroom, gasping for breath. suhyeok slammed the windows shut behind you, leaning against them to catch his breath. choi namra stood guard, her eyes fixed on the doors as if waiting for the inevitable. you leaned against a nearby wall, your mind reeling with questions.

“so? whats going on out there?” nayeon asked impatiently. out of breath, you held onto to your shoulder gently. everyone out of breath or staring was quiet. no one dared to speak. “are you deaf?” she shouted with a voice crack.

“shut up,” you muttered. everyone's eyes were glued to you now. “what?” she asked with disbelief, folding her arms over her chest. you closed your eyes while holding in tears because of the pain in your shoulder. “i said…shut up.” you repeated with vigor this time. standing upwards nonchalantly while looking at the doors who were being held by your classmates. “oh you little piece of-”

“stop it! both of you! now's not the time for this!” jimin shouted. you winced again with a heavy breath this time. once again all the attention turned towards you. “what happened to you?” onjo asked while walking towards you, only to be stopped by her best friend, cheongsan. onjo glared at him before removing his arm, however choosing to still stand beside him.

“i fell,” they stared at you for more information, “down the stairs outside. one of those..things tackled me.” upon being further informed the students all seemed to be getting more nervous.

“oh..my god. what the hell are they?”

the two girls huddled in the corner with freak-struck facial expressions. meanwhile gyeongsu looked like his arms were gonna break from holding the door from opening. “don't you know? theyre.. zombies.”

[xx-emi-chan-xx]

I shipp them, you honor

[joyusunn]

[swordblade]

Sektor x Khameleon who’s with me?

[christopherisfoive]

Underneath It All

Han x reader (College AU)

Note: I miss writing dearly however I can not get myself to do so. I have been reading stuff by others and missing those authors who are away. I hope to be able to read their work again soon xx

word count: 5.4k

I let my eyes wander to the bench where he sat with his friends, talking and eating his lunch. From the curl of his hair to the color of his lips, I was always enamored with his presence. I understood his appeal—the way girls around the school followed him, talking to his friends just to steal a moment of his attention.

I sighed and lowered my gaze to the grapes on my tray.

"I don't understand why you don't just go up to him and talk like everyone else does," my friend Kat said. She always insisted I had the confidence to do whatever I wanted—just like she did.

"It's because I can't do that. I'm not you. Also I don't really get the hype."

She huffed and stuffed one of my grapes into her mouth. I shot her an unserious look, but luckily, she turned the conversation around, and we started talking about finals next week. I tried to lure my brain back to its senses, forcing myself to forget about the puffy-cheeked boy sitting mere feet away.

I hear the screeching of a chair and glance up just as Han stands with his tray. Our eyes meet for a split second. His gaze sharpens, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before his expression hardens—dismissive, like we were kids at the playground and I had just stolen his favorite toy.

“Something interesting?” he says, cocking a brow.

I clear my throat and look away, pretending to focus on the grapes on my tray. “Not at all.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, low enough that only I catch it. When I glance up again, he’s already walking away.

Kat smirks. “Oooooh, tension.”

I roll my eyes and swipe a fry from her plate, ignoring the smug look on her face. I just wanted the next class to come already.

Hours pass, and somehow, I make it to the end of the day. My last class—Art Concepts—is with the least engaging professor in the entire university.

Most days, I can focus just fine, but on select afternoons like this, I find myself sketching assignments for my drawing courses instead.

I usually kept to myself in this class anyway. It just so happened that Han and his two friends, Hyunjin and Felix, were also enrolled.

Today, though, I only saw his friends—no Han in sight.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the professor still hadn't shown up. The room buzzed with quiet conversations, but most students were just waiting. I let my mind wander, zoning out as my gaze settled on the only empty desk beside me.

I didn’t even realize how long I had been staring until a familiar, taunting voice broke through my thoughts.

"Are you, like, alive? Or…?"

I blinked and looked up—straight into Han’s gaze.

I hadn’t even noticed him walk in. But now, standing there with that ever-present smirk, he seemed way too amused. And worse? While I had been lost in my thoughts, I completely missed the fact that this was the only open seat left.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just waiting," I respond nonchalantly, forcing my voice to stay even.

I look away before he can catch the shift in my mood, but I swear he senses it anyway.

Han hums, dragging out the sound like he doesn’t quite believe me. "Right. Just waiting. Definitely not zoned out, looking completely lost in thought or anything."

I scoff, finally glancing back at him. "Do you always narrate people’s lives, or am I just lucky?"

His smirk widens as he slides into the empty seat next to me. "Oh, you’re definitely lucky."

I can feel the warmth of his presence, the slight brush of his arm against mine, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, I turn my focus back to my sketchbook, determined not to let him get under my skin.

But he’s relentless. "You’re awfully quiet now," he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "You were doing so well with that attitude a second ago."

I glance at him again, my eyes narrowing. "Maybe I just don’t have the energy for you today."

His lips twitch, and he leans in slightly, too close for comfort. "Lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere."

I roll my eyes, turning my attention to my sketchbook instead of whatever this was turning into.

I put the rest of my energy into finishing my sketch, hoping the professor would show up—though I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a last-minute cancellation email. My eyelids felt heavy, and my head bobbed every so often, fighting sleep.

Suddenly, I sat up straight, forcing myself to stay awake.

I could feel Han’s gaze shift toward me. His eyes flicked up and down, like he was assessing me. "You good?"

I didn’t even look at him, keeping my focus on my sketchbook. "Yeah. Just… tired."

He tilted his head slightly, clearly intrigued. "Tired? Or just bored?"

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my cool. "A little bit of both. How about you? Enjoying the show?"

Han chuckled, leaning back in his seat, clearly enjoying the game. "Oh, I’m enjoying it alright. Watching you struggle to stay awake? Priceless."

I bit back a sarcastic reply, but I couldn’t help the heat rising in my cheeks. He was right, and the worst part? He knew it.

"Why did you show up late? Didn’t want to sit with your buddies today?" I ask with a small, teasing smile, barely keeping the smugness out of my voice.

Han quirks an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. For a moment, his usual cocky expression falters. "What, you think I’m avoiding them?"

I shrug casually, keeping my gaze fixed on my sketchbook, though I can’t help but notice how he leans in slightly, probably trying to figure me out. "Could be," I say with a slight smirk, though the truth is, I was just trying to throw him off.

He chuckles, but there’s a certain glint in his eyes now. "You don’t know me as well as you think, do you?"

I smile meekly, a bit of satisfaction tugging at the corners of my lips. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He leans in a little, voice dropping. "Or maybe I just don’t need them to have a good time."

My heart skips a beat at the implication, but I don’t let it show. "Really? So you're fine with sitting next to me then?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the challenge alive.

He smirks, leaning back again. "Oh, I don’t mind. You make this class way more interesting."

I roll my eyes, not sure whether I should be annoyed or… flattered? Either way, I keep my cool. "Sure, because I’m the life of the party."

Han chuckles softly, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me now. "You’d be surprised."

I sit back in my chair, glancing down towards the front of the class, trying to ignore the slight unease swirling in my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Hyunjin and Felix staring at us—eyes flicking between me and Han. The second they realize I’ve caught their gaze, they quickly look away, though I swear I see the corners of their lips twitching.

I try not to let it get to me, focusing on the front of the room instead, but it’s impossible not to feel like I’ve become the topic of their conversation.

Han, of course, notices their quick reaction too, and I can almost hear the smug satisfaction in his voice when he speaks. "They can’t keep their eyes off us, huh?"

I sigh inwardly, not giving him the satisfaction of looking his way again. "Maybe they’re just bored."

Han leans closer, his voice a little quieter now, like he’s sharing a secret. "I think they know something’s going on. Maybe they’re waiting for us to make a move."

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, leaning back slightly in my chair. "And what kind of move would that be?"

Han tilts his head, a glimmer of curiosity behind his smirk. "I don’t know… something a little less, uh, distant." His gaze flicks briefly to my face, studying me.

I give him a pointed look. "Distant? I’m not the one leaning in every two seconds."

He chuckles, clearly amused by my response, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes. "True. You’re different from the others."

I scoff, leaning forward a little. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs casually, but I can see a slight shift in his posture, as if he’s trying to gauge me a little more. "Just that… most girls are pretty eager to talk to me. But you? You don’t exactly jump at the chance."

I keep my expression neutral, but a little voice in the back of my mind tells me he’s digging for something more. "Guess I’m just not like them."

Han raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Guess not." He leans back in his chair, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than I’m comfortable with. "But it’s interesting, don’t you think? The way you’re not all over me like everyone else."

I don't respond to him. Not because I have nothing to say but because I have this horribly feeling that if I do I'll confess to him about all the times I have thought about talking to him.

I don’t respond to him—not because I have nothing to say, but because I have this horrible feeling that if I do, I’ll accidentally confess to him all the times I’ve thought about talking to him.

The thought hits me like a wave, and my throat tightens. I can’t bring myself to say anything more. If I open my mouth, I might just blurt out all the things I’ve been trying to avoid. All the days I’ve watched him from across the room, imagining what it would be like to just walk up to him and say something.

Instead, I stay silent, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my heart’s picking up speed. I keep my gaze locked on my sketchbook, willing myself to focus on the lines in front of me, even as his presence next to me feels too loud.

Han doesn’t push me for an answer, but I can feel his eyes on me—probing, like he’s waiting for me to crack.

I can feel my heart beat in my ears, each thud louder than the last. My breath catches in my throat, and before I can stop it, I let out a small, awkward cough, hoping it’ll cover up the fact that I’m suddenly drowning in this unwelcome feeling.

I try to look down at my sketchbook, but it’s like the weight of his gaze is heavy on me now. I know he’s still watching, and it makes my skin burn with embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" Han’s voice breaks through the silence, and it’s so much softer than I expect.

I swallow hard, willing my face to stay neutral. "Yeah, fine," I say quickly, trying to sound casual, but I can feel the heat in my cheeks betraying me.

I glance at him, just for a second, and then immediately look away when I realize the intensity in his eyes. Great, now he probably knows I’m acting weird.

I glance at him, just for a second, and then immediately look away when I realize the intensity in his eyes. Great, now he probably knows I’m acting weird.

Han doesn’t laugh or tease this time. Instead, there’s a moment of silence, and then his voice comes, softer than before. "You sure you’re fine?"

I look up at him, trying to keep the nervous flutter out of my chest, but his gaze is a little too intense. I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come out immediately. Why is he being like this?

He leans a little closer, his tone casual but with an undertone of something more. "You don’t usually act like this. You, uh, okay?" His eyes flicker to my face, like he’s trying to read me.

For a second, I consider just brushing it off. But the way he’s looking at me—so quietly observant, like he’s seeing through my walls—makes me hesitate. I can’t just say something random and pretend everything’s fine.

I clear my throat, finally forcing words out. "Yeah. I’m just tired."

Han doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push further. He leans back, though his gaze still lingers for a moment longer than I expect. "Alright. Just making sure."

By this time, it's been almost thirty minutes, and the professor still hasn’t shown up. I glance at the clock, my patience running thin. I decide that saving myself by leaving is the best option. The thought of heading back to my dorm and possibly taking a nap on my desk sounds like pure bliss right now.

I start packing my things back into my bag, my mind already half-out the door. I’m just about to zip it up when I rub the exhaustion out of my eyes, feeling the weight of the day settle in.

Before I can grab my bag and head out, I hear Han’s voice again, this time sounding a bit more serious than I expect. "You leaving?"

I pause, the motion of stuffing my sketchbook into my bag halting as I glance up at him. Han’s eyes are no longer playful, and his posture is slightly more upright, like he's actually paying attention to me for the first time today.

I hesitate for a second, debating whether to just walk away or give him some kind of answer. Finally, I shrug, trying to sound casual even though I can feel the heat rising in my chest. "Yeah, don’t think this class is happening."

Han studies me for a moment, and then his lips curl into a small, almost knowing smirk. "You sure about that? I think you just might be missing something."

I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine, but it’s enough to make me stop mid-motion. I stare at him, my hand frozen on the zipper of my bag. Is he serious? Does he want me to stay?

I stare at him for a moment, unsure if I heard him right. His expression has shifted again, no longer playful, but still too hard to read. My heart skips a beat, and I feel a strange pull—like maybe I’m missing something, like maybe he wants me to stay.

I glance at the door, my mind already made up. I should just leave. This class is practically canceled anyway.

But something in the way Han is looking at me makes me pause. Why do I feel like I’m being baited?

He raises an eyebrow, as if he’s waiting for me to say something, but all I can do is stare back, unsure of how to respond. I can’t decide whether it’s his confidence or the curiosity building between us that’s keeping me rooted to the spot.

Finally, I let out a small, almost nervous laugh. "You really think the professor is going to show up?" I try to keep my tone light, but it’s clear I’m still trying to deflect.

Han just shrugs, leaning back slightly in his chair, his smirk returning. "Could be. Or maybe, you're just avoiding something."

I frown, unsure of what he means, but the way he says it catches my attention. He’s not even teasing anymore. There’s something in his eyes—something that makes me feel like he’s trying to figure me out, in the way that only someone who’s actually paying attention would.

I bite my lip, looking back at my bag again, but somehow, I don’t feel the urge to rush out the door anymore. I feel... caught.

Han’s eyes flicker to my bag and then back to me. "You know, I’ve never actually seen you stick around after class." His voice is low, and even though he sounds nonchalant, there’s a subtle weight behind it. "What’s the rush?"

I feel my stomach flip. He’s definitely noticed something, and I’m not sure if I like that.

I bite my lip, my fingers tracing the edge of my bag, the words swirling in my head. It’s you. You’re the reason I feel like I’m in a rush.

But I can’t say that. I can’t tell him that.

Instead, I clear my throat, trying to shake the weight of my own thoughts off. "I don’t know, maybe I just... have stuff to do." The words feel hollow, like they’re coming from someone else, but I push them out anyway, hoping it will stop him from seeing right through me.

Han doesn’t seem convinced, though. His gaze never wavers, like he’s watching for any little sign I might give away. And somehow, I feel like I’m standing completely exposed, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking but is waiting for me to say it.

I shift in my seat, trying to keep my cool. "I don’t like staying after class. Just feels... pointless."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel like he’s trying to coax me into admitting something—anything.

I let out a breath, my heart beating just a little faster. There’s this feeling creeping up my chest, like maybe, just maybe, if I told him—if I said the words—something would change. But I can’t.

"Anyway," I say, my voice steady but shaking on the inside, "I should probably go."

I stand up quickly, trying to escape the suffocating tension. I can feel his eyes on me as I move, and it makes my pulse quicken even more. It’s him. He’s the rush. He’s the one who keeps me from leaving. But I can’t say it. Not now. Not ever.

I push through the door of the building, the cool air hitting my face as I step outside. I take a deep breath, hoping the open space will calm my nerves. The campus is quieter now, the usual hustle and bustle having quieted down as students filter out of the building, heading in different directions.

Finally. I’m free.

But as I take a step forward, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. A little too close to be a coincidence.

I don’t turn around. I can’t turn around.

I keep walking, my steps faster now, almost instinctively, trying to escape this strange feeling gnawing at me. I feel the weight of his gaze even without looking back.

But then, out of nowhere, I hear his voice.

"Not running away again, are you?"

I freeze. My heart stumbles in my chest. Han’s standing just behind me now, a few steps away but enough to make it impossible to ignore him. The teasing tone is still there, but it’s quieter, more deliberate. His presence is almost… unsettling now.

I slowly turn to face him, trying to keep my expression neutral, but I’m sure he can see the flicker of confusion in my eyes. He looks completely unbothered, like following me out here was the most normal thing in the world.

"I’m not running away," I say quickly, my voice a little sharper than I intended. I don’t even know why I feel defensive; it’s not like I owe him an explanation.

Han doesn’t seem to mind my tone. He just looks at me with that same unreadable expression. His eyes flicker toward the building we just came from, then back to me.

"So, what is it then?" His voice is low, casual, but the question hangs in the air like a challenge. "You avoiding me?"

I laugh, but it’s tight, forced. "No, I’m not avoiding you." My stomach twists, but I refuse to let him see how much his words are affecting me.

Han steps closer, the space between us shrinking, and I feel my pulse quicken. "Funny," he says with a half-smile, his gaze intense. "Because it sure seems like it."

I try to step around him, my thoughts a jumbled mess, but Han steps into my path again, blocking my way. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes are serious now. He’s not playing games anymore.

"Are you really just going to walk away?"

My breath catches, but I stay silent, my heart pounding like it’s about to escape my chest. I glance up at him, and he’s looking at me with that same piercing gaze. I feel pinned in place, like I’m stuck between wanting to run and wanting to stay.

I take another step, trying to brush past him, but Han mirrors me, moving just slightly to the side to stay in my path.

"What are you so afraid of?" he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s teasing, but there’s a seriousness in the way he looks at me. "You can’t just walk away from this."

I turn my back to him, taking a deep breath to steady myself. He’s not going to let it go.

"What’s your deal, huh?" I snap, spinning around to face him, my voice shaky but loud. I can feel my emotions starting to spiral out of control. "Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep following me?"

His eyes widen for a split second, but then he’s right back to that confident, collected expression. He steps even closer, barely any space between us now. "I don’t know. Maybe I’m just curious."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and before I can stop it, the floodgates open. "Curious?" I laugh, the sound coming out bitter. "You want to know why I’m avoiding you, right?"

I don’t wait for him to answer. The words are spilling out before I can think, like they’ve been locked inside me for far too long.

"It’s you, okay? You… you intrigue me." I wince as I say it, my own voice feeling too loud, too vulnerable. "I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about talking to you all the time, and I just… I just can’t."

I can’t believe I’m saying this. My heart is racing so fast, I’m sure he can hear it. I’m terrified of how exposed I feel, how raw my emotions are right now.

Han’s eyes soften, just slightly, and for a second, I think maybe he’s going to say something comforting, but then his lips curl into a small smile.

"So, you do want to talk to me, huh?" He leans in a little closer, his voice almost a whisper. "Then why don’t you?"

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I want to run away. I want to disappear into the ground and never come back. But I can’t. Not now. Not with him standing there, waiting for me to finish what I started.

I stand there, frozen, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it. His eyes are still on me, waiting for my next move, the silence stretching between us like an invisible thread pulling me in.

"So, you think about talking to me all the time?" Han’s voice is a little lower now, almost teasing, but there’s something behind his words I can’t quite place. He steps just a little bit closer, his proximity making everything feel heavier.

I try to pull back, but something in me is rooted to the spot. "I…" My voice falters, and I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to crumble.

He watches me for a moment, his eyes glinting with something that I can’t quite name. Then, finally, he steps back just a bit, his shoulders softening, as if he’s deciding to give me space. But instead of turning away, he looks at me with a soft, genuine smile.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," he says quietly. The teasing edge is gone, replaced by something warmer. More real. "I just… didn’t expect you to say that."

The words settle around me like a weight, and for the first time since this entire conversation started, I feel like I can breathe. His presence isn’t overwhelming now—it’s almost comforting. Like he’s not trying to get anything out of me, but just… understanding.

I don’t know why, but the sudden shift in his demeanor makes me feel like I’ve been holding my breath all this time.

"You intrigue me, too," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. It feels almost like a confession, but it’s true.

I can’t look at him directly, not after everything I’ve said, so I focus on my hands, suddenly feeling all too aware of how much I’ve just exposed. My cheeks heat up, and I pray he won’t notice.

But then, Han reaches out, just lightly touching my arm, and my heart skips a beat. It’s so gentle, almost like he’s trying to steady me without saying a word.

"It’s okay," he murmurs, his voice soft, the teasing gone completely now. "You don’t have to explain yourself."

And just like that, everything that had felt so heavy—so intense—begins to soften. The walls I had built up around myself start to crumble in the most unexpected way. I feel my shoulders relax for the first time since I’ve known him, and I can’t help but smile softly.

For a moment, we just stand there, the silence stretching between us like a quiet thread connecting us in ways I never imagined. My heart is still racing, but it’s not in a panic anymore. It’s the kind of racing that feels real, like something is about to change.

Han’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine, and I can feel the weight of everything I’ve just said hanging in the air. His eyes soften just a little, and I wonder if he can feel the shift too. Maybe he’s as caught up in this as I am.

The tension feels like it’s building again, but this time it’s different. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable—it’s something else. I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me, or if it’s because I finally said the truth out loud, but I can’t look away. I don’t want to.

But before I can say anything else, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. My heart gives a little lurch, and I look away just as Hyunjin and Felix come around the corner of the building. Han doesn’t break eye contact with me until they catch up, and then he turns his head slightly, breaking the spell we were caught in.

"Hey, guys," Han says, his tone shifting as his friends approach. They give him a knowing look, and then they glance at me, but they don’t say anything right away. It’s like they’re waiting for him to explain.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a little out of place. "Hey," I mumble, trying to act casual even though my heart is still pounding.

Han looks over at me, his eyes glinting with a teasing edge again, but there’s something different in his expression this time.

"These are my friends, Hyunjin and Felix." He gestures toward the two of them. "You’ve met Felix before, right?"

Felix gives me a warm smile, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. "Yeah, I think we had a class together last semester!"

Hyunjin just gives me a small nod, his eyes sharp, but he doesn’t say much. I’m sure he’s observing everything, like he always does.

I try to smile back at them, but the conversation feels a little distant now. I’m still reeling from the earlier exchange with Han, and now, with the three of them standing there, I’m not sure what to say.

"Nice to meet you both," I say, my voice a little quieter than usual.

Han catches my eye again, and I can feel the unspoken words between us. The way he looks at me now is different—like he knows something I don’t.

As soon as Hyunjin and Felix join us, the atmosphere shifts again. I notice Felix giving me another friendly smile, but Hyunjin, on the other hand, seems to be observing us a little too closely.

Han looks at him for a moment, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. "What?" Han asks, his voice tinged with a quiet warning.

Hyunjin leans in a little, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and Han, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I didn’t know you were so... chatty these days."

Han’s cheeks flush slightly, and I catch the briefest moment where he looks like he’s about to say something, but he just gives a short, almost dismissive laugh instead. He turns to me, trying to play it cool again. "Don’t mind him, he likes to tease."

But Hyunjin’s eyes never leave Han, and he raises an eyebrow, his tone light but with an edge. "Oh, we can tell."

Felix seems to catch on to the vibe pretty quickly and shoots a look at Hyunjin, trying to diffuse the moment with a casual comment. "It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out, right?"

Hyunjin shrugs, his gaze still lingering on Han for just a moment longer before he finally turns to me with a bright, friendly grin. "Sorry if we’re making things awkward. We’ve just been waiting for Han to make a move for, like, forever."

My heart skips, but I force a smile, pretending I didn’t catch the hint. I look at Han, who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "A move?" I ask, genuinely confused.

Felix jumps in quickly, laughing a little too loudly. "He means just, you know… being less of a weirdo around people."

Han shoots him a glare, and I can see his usual easygoing confidence slipping just slightly. "I don’t know what they’re talking about," he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

But it doesn’t seem like Hyunjin is done just yet. He leans in a bit, looking at Han with a playful, knowing grin. "Sure, sure. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you show us how you really feel."

I’m still not entirely sure what they mean, but it’s enough to make my heart race again, a mix of confusion and something I can’t quite place bubbling up inside me.

I glance between them, trying to piece together what they’re saying. Felix and Hyunjin are clearly enjoying themselves, but Han seems... almost caught off guard by their teasing. It’s subtle, but there’s something in the way he won’t meet my eyes, something that makes my stomach twist.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I find myself asking before I can stop it, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin grins, shooting me a playful wink, his tone light but knowing. "Oh, don’t worry about it," he says, before nudging Felix. "You’ll figure it out soon enough."

I blink, still unsure, but I feel my cheeks start to burn again. My eyes flicker to Han, who's now standing just a little too close for comfort. He’s still quiet, but I can feel the weight of his presence beside me, almost like he’s waiting for me to say something.

My heart is pounding, and I try to brush off the tension, but it’s getting harder to ignore.

As if sensing my confusion, Han finally speaks, his voice softer than usual. "It’s not like that." He glances at me, his gaze lingering just long enough for me to catch the subtle vulnerability in his eyes before he looks away.

The moment feels heavy, and I’m not sure if it’s my racing heartbeat or the silence between us that makes it so hard to breathe. I feel like I should say something, but I’m not sure what to make of any of this yet.

Felix and Hyunjin continue their walk ahead, but I’m left standing there, caught between confusion and something else—something that feels a lot like... curiosity.

I glance at Han again, but this time, he doesn’t look back. Instead, he gives a small, almost imperceptible sigh, like he’s resigned to something. "You should get going," he says, his voice almost gentle.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Yeah… I should." But even as I turn to walk away, I feel his presence linger behind me, and I know that whatever this is between us... it’s not over yet.

[cannot-be-cyn]

yoohankim's colour schemes are representing the asexuals

[tls12lessthan3]

kim dokja who transmigrates to his favourite romance webnovel as the second lead who dies tragically due to love triangle bullshit and resolves to stay firmly away from the black flame empress han sooyoung (fl) and crown prince yoo joonghyuk (ml) as a result. except he's a little bit too tempted by the idea of seeing his favourite love story play out without the interference of that annoying kim dokja character. so he keeps finding himself sneaking out to see major plot points go down from just outside of line of sight (because cmon, of course kim dokja would risk his life for a good story, and it doesn't count as getting caught up in the plot if he's just watching!). except of course he gets caught, and yoo joonghyuk and han sooyoung find themselves intrigued enough by this strange man that they end up showing up at his manor the next day...............

[maydayeddie]

9-1-1 | 4x06

[magentacravat]

Literally Anna's nightmare.

[milkteabinniechan]

｡⁠*⁠♡.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡Desperate - Han Jisung

pairing: Han Jisung x afab reader , enemies to lovers

warnings: smoking, unprotected sex, angst, smut

ko-fi if you like what I do 💕 comments and reblogs are always appreciated

"what are you doing here?"

Han's expression was bored and impatient. He asked you a question, but he was looking around the room like he could not care less what your answer was.

Your parents had been neighbors and close friends with Han's parents since the two of you were small. And because of this you two were forced to become close friends as well. Only you didn't like him and he didn't like you. It had always been that way.

Now you were both graduating college. Albeit your university was slightly more prestigious than his, and he knew it. And although you would never admit it, it brought you the smallest incline of joy whenever you one-uped him at something. The party tonight was for Han, though. His parents had put all of this together, with all of their friends and colleagues, to brag about their latest accomplishment: Han Jisung.

You watched as Han's eyes scanned the crowded room. You didn't recognize anyone here, and you had a feeling it was the same for him. You wanted to ask him if he was okay. But your brain could already predict the snyde remark that would follow. Instead you said,

"This is lame. You want to get out of here?"

Han looked at you, his brow furrowed. His mouth agape.

"I can't just leave my own party, genius." He rolled his eyes and huffed. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards you. growing up together, you knew each other's houses like the back of your hand. You made a b-line through the crowd toward the stairs.

Han must've understood your plan because he pushed his way ahead and lead you to his room. Warm evening light bathed the white walls and fresh linen draped the bed. Han was clean. He was organized. When you were children, you used to tease him about never being able to make a mess.

Han sighed and pressed his back against the closed door. He hung his head low in exhaustion. You made yourself comfortable on his bed, leisurely resting back on your elbows, letting your head fall back towards the ceiling. Silence dangled in the air between you for a moment. Finally you raised your head up.

"I got you a graduation present, loser." You said with a smirk. The insult now becoming a playful nickname. Han lifted himself from the door frame. His curiosity peaked. He sauntered to the bed next to you, plopping down obnoxiously, making you bounce in response.

"Well...?" Han lingered toward you. You reach in your purse and pull out a joint. Slightly bent. You were starting to second guess your storage methods. You turn and face Han, joint on display between your thumb and first finger.

You had smoked with Han before. Mostly to get back at your parents. The both of you being forced to "hang out" while they drink and mingled downstairs. The two of you barely coughed anymore. It was a time the two of you could float somewhere else, just for a little while.

You let your eyes roll back, your back sinking into the mattress. Your skin kissing the perfectly soft fabric of his bed sheets. Han fell next to you, the two of you staring at the off-white ceiling.

"You smell good." Han spoke in a low voice.

"I smell like weed." You snapped back.

"Sorry, forget it..." Han's voice began to trail off.

You rolled over to face him. His eyes were glossy, his pupils dilated. So large and dark. Like if you looked long enough, you could see the whole universe in those eyes. You moved close to his face. Han's eyes were watching your mouth. You craned your neck back and pressed your lips into his. Something got filled your insides, touched your core.

His lips were so soft. So soft. You let your tongue snake into his mouth and pry it open wider. He let out a small whimper as he placed a hand on the nape of your neck. You grabbed at his shirt, willing him to set down on top of you. He followed suit and quickly made his way on top, his hips already grinding and rutting into you.

You let him grind as you began to unbuckle his belt unbutton his slacks. He was already so hard. The thought of his so desperate to touch you was making you throb. You placed both your hands on his backside as you push his hips further into you.

"Please..." He whispers into your neck. You grab one of his hands and lead him down your body to your panties, dampening by the second. Han groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt slipping between his fingers. You bite your lip, remembering the large party downstairs. Groups of your parents friends, while you let your childhood friend stretch your hole.

Han slipped inside you slowly. His tip lingering at your entrance, holding his cock there with one hand, while he watched your face. A moment of hesitation, maybe. He had never admitted it, but you knew him better than anyone. What if he went too far? What if he came undone? What if he couldn't be out back together again?

Your cunt swallowed his tip and pulled him in. Your warm, tight walls hugging his cock fully and completely. His thrusts were wild and yearning. You held his face in your head while he pushed and pressed himself into you. The bed began to squeak and creak as you hooks your legs around his waist.

Han lovingly rubbed his thumb against your swollen clit. The bundle of nerves full and prodding out, begging for attention, pleading for release. The sloshing of your cunt was making a mess in Han's bed sheets. He watched as you dropped and splashed onto his white, clean linen.

"I guess you can make a mess." You smirked.