I'm Still A Bang Chan Girl

I'm still a Bang Chan girl

are you home?

[08:10pm] in which you and minho get into an argument but all he wants to do is be with you, by your side and you feel the exact same way.  

warnings: none, mentions of minho being angry. 

—

“what happened to you?" 

minho didn’t bother answering his best friend, moving straight from the front door to his room, through the main living area where both chan and jisung stared at him in confusion. the two didn’t register what could’ve possibly happened for him to come home so abruptly, in a mood that they could only tell was sour, until hyunjin walked in after him, except much calmer.

when he sees them staring at him, he gives them a look as if to say they wouldn’t believe the day he had as he drops his entire body onto the sofa, carefully placing his cup of coffee on the coffee table too. 

"what happened?” chan asks this time, sitting on the other couch as the three fall into a conversation.

hyunjin sighs, recalling the day bit by bit until he gets to why minho is in a mood.

“he fought with y/n,” hyunjin says. “well– i don’t really think fight is the right word. it’s more like, they had a disagreement and it didn’t end well.”

“they fought?” chan furrowed his eyebrows. arguments in relationships, any kind, were normal – healthy even and chan knew that. but the reason he was so perplexed was because even if the two of you had your bad moments, minho wouldn’t usually come home looking as ticked off as he did.

“how’d you know that?” han questions, turning his attention away from his laptop to his friend laying next to him.

“i was there,” hyunjin runs a hand over his face. “oh my god i was there. i was caught up in the middle of it and by the time i wanted to excuse myself minho said it was time to go.”

Keep reading

Ooh this sounds so angstyyy. I'm in

The doctor doesn't look at you when he comes in. 

There's an emotion swirling around your stomach that you can't name. It was some form of worry a week ago, worse thoughts getting the better of you, anger two days ago as you had avoided your mother's gaze and twirled a loose string hanging from your shorts and listened to her rattle off what you should be doing with your life; maybe it's anxiety now, in the way that it curls around your insides and presses them all tightly together until it feels like you can't breathe. 

Or just maybe it's all in your head, and this will be nothing, and tomorrow will be the same as yesterday. 

The doctor is quick to take a seat behind the computer that sits in front of you, offering a short nod and a tight smile in your direction. You attempt to smile back, but you're not quite sure it works when all of this feels like something short of a nightmare. The doctor turns his attention to the computer, fingers flying across the keyboard as white and tones of blue reflect in his glasses. 

You think you feel sick, chest tightening, stomach lurching as you sit here and wait for anything to break the uneasy silence that has grown stagnant in the air. You'd usually swing your feet sitting atop one of these tables just to be funny. 

Your legs are stiff and your shoes feel as though they are filled with lead. 

Chan shifts closer to you, even though it's not really possible for him to, when he's already moved the plastic chair as close as it can get to the table you're sitting on. His shoulder brushes against your knee, one of his hands wrapped firmly around your own. He can read you like a book; he squeezes your hand softly the next time you move, the doctor humming to himself as he brings up a different report. 

God, you hate this. You hate all of this, every moment of it all since the thought buried itself into your brain. You hate that you've yet to do anything you wanted to do before something like this, but how could you have known? Are you jumping to conclusions now, imaging the worst when the worst has yet to come? 

Chan squeezes your hand again. He's watching the doctor carefully, shoulders tense. The exhale you release is far too loud for such a quiet room, but maybe this will all be a false alarm. Maybe you'll be okay, or maybe the doctor will be wrong, or maybe this is just the universe's way to test just how strong you can be. 

You don't know if you would prefer the doctor to speak or continue to say nothing at all as he finally pulls back from the desk and stands, approaching you with folded hands. He's older with a kind face, but the tug of his lips is firm and changes the look of his features, making that cavern of emotions in your chest grow wider.

It's endless against the rest of you, swallowing you whole - it's hard to fight against it, when you can't bring yourself to think about anything else. 

"You are very healthy for your age," he says with a voice worn by the years, the short smile he gives gone far too soon. "Your test results came back." 

Your phone vibrates against your hip and you fight the urge to reach for it. It's probably Jeongin, just in time to blow up your phone waiting for an update.

You hate this, you think again and again and again.

You hate the way Jeongin had stopped what he was doing to look at you when you had told him, you hate the way Chan had offered to take you to your appointment because he knew your mother wouldn't. You hate the way Changbin had treated you earlier, like you are glass that will shatter if he isn't careful. 

Chan looks over at you, but you can't look at him. 

You will not shatter. 

The doctor looks at you. He hesitates for a moment before he speaks, and you hear what he says, you swear you do, but then you hear nothing at all and you're blinking and looking at Chan and Chan is holding your hand like you're meant to disappear and the doctor - 

"What?" you whisper, breathless. 

You will not shatter.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, quieter this time. "But you have cancer." 

You will not shatter.

But then you think that you do.

hello my smau friends, this is a gift for me passed onto you. i say for me because i am obSESSED with this keeps, i'll remind you again, i'll be upset if you don't give me more of this.

anyway here is a teaser for an unnamed project that i am very excited about, i think keeps is in a unique position to really write the shit out of this and i hope there's an audience to encourage her. please interact with this post if you're interested in seeing this as a full smau!

there is a also a poll here to decide the main love interest

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

☆ Genre: Fluff

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Hyunjin, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 2.1k

☆ A/N: My posts aren't showing up in the tags so please reblog this ♡

“I can do it myself,” Y/N insisted as she sat down on one of the benches. “Hyunjin … “

“Let me,” Hyunjin said in a soft tone of voice. He crouched down in front of Y/N, his slender frame folding like an elegant origami swan.

Y/N bit her lip as she watched him. Hyunjin's fingers began to lace up her ice skates, his touch nimble and gentle as he tugged at the laces; from this angle, Y/N could see the way Hyunjin's dark hair fell in gentle sweeps against the angular structure of his face, his long lashes looking like a fine dust of cocoa on his skin as he tilted his head downwards. With every one of his movements, Y/N caught the sweet depth of florals and the warmth of vanilla radiating from his skin, the subtle woodiness at the base of it all sending her heart fluttering like a bird in a cage.

She wasn't sure if being so incredibly handsome for a first date was legal.

She also couldn't help but feel as though she didn't compare to him in the slightest.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin's voice carried a slight tinge of urgency and Y/N blinked suddenly as she was snapped out of her lovestruck thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I was asking if they're too tight,” Hyunjin said.

Y/N looked down at her skates. Hyunjin's fingers were still cupping the sides of her skates, and perhaps it was just her imagination, but Y/N was sure she could feel heat from his hands seeping in through the shoes.

She swallowed. “They're fine. Thank you.”

Hyunjin's face broke into a large smile. The expression caused the man's face to completely light up, and Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. He looked remarkably as though he was glowing, just as an ethereal sculpture might shine with the spillage of sunlight gracing its stretch of marble.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked, tilting his head to the side.

Y/N let out a questionable sound in response. She had intended on replying with a simple ‘yes’. But instead she made the sound of what could only be described as a deflating balloon.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Mhm.”

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin laughed quietly. “I called you three times.”

“You smell good,” Y/N blurted out. She then slapped her gloved hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. “I didn't say that.”

Hyunjin's face crinkled in childish joy as he started to laugh all over again. “Thank you.”

He then stood up again, towering over Y/N with a poised stance. Y/N looked up at him in awe. Even the way his long woollen coat hung from his body seemed to drip with elegance, the scarf around his neck styled as though he had just walked out from an editorial magazine. He seemed not to notice all the stares he was receiving from people who milled past them both, his nonchalance all the more attractive to Y/N.

She breathed shakily. She wasn't sure if her knees were quite strong enough to stand; there was something about the way the man in front of her was looking at her that seemed to turn her insides into jelly.

“Ready?” Hyunjin asked, extending a hand. “Don't worry … I've got you.”

Y/N swallowed thickly. “I'm really, really bad at skating.”

Hyunjin smiled, mischief dancing in the pits of his eyes. “It's a good thing I'm a great skater then, isn't it?”

“I hope you're as good as you say you are,” Y/N said weakly as she slipped her hand into his. She watched in slow motion as Hyunjin curled his fingers around hers in his heated hold, and he used a gentle pressure to pull her to unsteady feet.

It was still clearly too much for Y/N; the sudden unfamiliar feeling of standing on nothing but thin slivers made her unbalance almost immediately. She stumbled into Hyunjin, her eyes widening as the man's hands found their way to the small of her back.

Chest against his, Y/N looked up into Hyunjin's eyes with embarrassment flooding into hers. But catching the pink tint on Hyunjin's cheeks, Y/N felt her heartbeat speed up as she registered the man's hold on her, his scent clouding her mind and his overwhelming proximity turning her brain into mush.

“Woah,” Hyunjin hummed as he studied Y/N's face. Her hair had escaped from underneath her hat, and Hyunjin gently reached out to tuck the strands beneath the material. “Careful.”

Y/N expected him to pull away; she moved first, and she was surprised when she felt Hyunjin's hands tightening on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“Wait,” Hyunjin whispered. He lowered his head, his lips brushing her temple as he smiled. “You smell good too.”

“I - “ Y/N felt her words dissipate as quickly as they had flooded her mind upon hearing his words. She felt her blood rush to her head, echoing in her ears like a heavy drum set.

Hyunjin smiled. He cleared his own throat quietly before sliding his hands down to Y/N's, and he entwined his long fingers with hers. “Let's go.”

Nodding, Y/N inhaled deeply. Her brain was having a party inside of her skull, continuously chanting about how Hyunjin was holding her hand. She felt nervous as she slowly followed Hyunjin's smooth strides with her own timid ones, and once they were both on the ice, she felt her limbs tremble with both light headedness from the man she was with, and the constant fear of falling on her face in front of him.

“It's so cold … “ Hyunjin commented as he skated a few inches towards the side of the rink. His voice turned into tiny white clouds as he spoke, and Y/N once again found herself marvelling over the beauty that radiated from him in a never ending stream.

She shook her head. Focus, she thought to herself. It wasn't as though she had never been with him before … surely her sudden inflation of romantic feelings for him wouldn't affect her ability to function this much.

Standing in front of her, Hyunjin held his two bands out towards Y/N. “Hold onto my hands. I'll teach you how to skate.”

Doing as she was told, Y/N slipped her hands onto his again.

“Okay ... you have to tilt your feet outwards a little bit, like this,” Hyunjin parted his feet, his toes further apart than his heels. “And then bend your knees to find your balance.”

Y/N did her best to copy his stance. She had a feeling she looked utterly ridiculous.

“Good. Now pick one of your feet up - not too high,” Hyunjin demonstrated again. “Then the other. Kind of like you're marching.”

“Like this?” Y/N marched slowly on the spot. Her face broke into a smile as she started to giggle. “I feel silly. I look silly.”

Hyunjin smiled. He squeezed her hands. “You look beautiful. Now … push outwards with one foot onto the ice. You can do it.”

Still holding his hands, Y/N exhaled. She then did her best to follow his instructions; knees slightly bent, she pushed her right foot outwards, and then her left foot. Her eyes widened in surprise as she felt herself glide onto the ice, and when she looked up, she saw Hyunjin beaming at her with pride.

“I knew you could do it!” He exclaimed happily. “You're a quick learner.”

“You're good at teaching,” Y/N countered as she continued to skate slowly towards him. “I've never, ever managed to skate even one step before.”

Satisfied, Hyunjin couldn't help but tug at her hands; Y/N slid towards him, giggles escaping her mouth as she fell into the curve of his body again, his arm sliding around her waist.

“Let's skate around together. And then you can try to do it on your own,” Hyunjin suggested. He enveloped one of his hands with her own and she nodded, looking determined as she began to glide slowly across the ice.

After a few minutes, Y/N seemed to have gotten the hang of it; her strides became longer, her movements smoother. She adopted a rhythmic pace with Hyunjin, and with content smiles on their faces, Hyunjin and Y/N skated around the ice rink with their hands clasped in one another's.

They both managed to skate to their start point in no time at all, and once they were there, Hyunjin gently kissed the back of Y/N's hand.

“Try it on your own now,” Hyunjin said. “I'll be behind you, so don't worry.”

Y/n nodded. She reluctantly pulled her hand out of his warm grip and took a deep breath before bending her knees slightly again. Finding her centre of gravity, she pushed off, delighted when she realised she could skate just as well without the man's hand in hers.

It was when a sudden stumbling figure hurtled towards her did Y/N realise she had no idea how to stop moving. Her eyes widened as she hurtled towards a wall, her heart racing as it got closer and closer.

“Hyunjin!” Y/N squealed. “You didn't teach me how to sto - “

Before she knew what was happening, the front of Y/N's skate jabbed itself into a groove in the ice. She tipped forward, spinning as her legs gave way and she landed promptly on the ice, her face smacking against a chip of ice on the floor.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin gasped. He quickly skated towards her, his eyes wide and full of panic as he kneeled down next to Y/N. “Oh my God … I'm so sorry! How did I forget to teach you to stop?”

Breathing heavily, Y/N sat up slowly. Her face was contorted in pain, and Hyunjin's face turned into one of horror as he took in the sight of her.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked anxiously.

Y/N nodded. “I'm okay. I think … I think I twisted my ankle … “

“Your chin!” Hyunjin inhaled sharply. “Y/N … Y/N you're bleeding.”

“I am?” Y/N asked. “Where?”

“The bottom of your chin.” Hyunjin reached out gently, almost as if he was going to touch her face. Thinking better of it, he retracted his hand and instead pulled Y/N up to her feet. “Can you move? Just to get over there.”

He pointed towards the benches on the outside of the ice rink where he had tied Y/N's skates initially.

Y/N nodded. “I think so.”

Leaning into him, with some difficulty Y/N managed to reach the bench. Hyunjin set her down on the seat and kneeled in front of her again before reaching for the bag he had brought with him.

“I'm glad I listened to Chan,” Hyunjin commented as he pulled out a small pouch. He smiled, unzipping it and revealing its contents. “He told me to bring a first aid kit. Just in case.”

Y/N smiled. “I'm glad you listened to him too.”

Pulling out a packet of antiseptic wipes, Hyunjin cleaned his fingers before taking a hold of Y/N's face. He steepled one hand on the underside of Y/N's jaw, and with the other hand, he raised the wipe to Y/N's jaw.

Y/N's breath hitched from the sting of the antiseptic solution on her cut. Hyunjin's eyes filled with sympathy as he dabbed as gently as he could, mopping up the blood from her skin.

“Definitely the worst date ever, huh?” Hyunjin hummed as he set the wipe aside. He laughed a little bitterly, looking down as he found a tube of ointment. “I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't want to come out with me again.”

Y/N blinked. She reached her hand out and placed it on top of his, the man looking up at her in surprise.

“That's not true,” Y/N shook her head. “I … I think it was a perfect date. You could even say … I fell for you.”

Hyunjin stared at her. He then burst into laughter, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he snorted with amusement.

Y/N grinned, utterly satisfied. “Did that … break the ice?”

“Oh my gosh,” Hyunjin's face adopted an expression of pain as he understood the girl's joke. He shook his head as he began to slather the cream over Y/N's injury. “Definitely.”

He then smiled, reaching for a plaster. “So … what do you think about going to watch a movie?”

“A movie?” Y/N asked, cocking her head to the side.

“We could go back to mine … “ Hyunjin shrugged as he carefully smoothed the plaster over Y/N's chin. “I have a very big collection of romance movies. And loads of snacks.”

Y/N bit her lip, a smile spreading across her blushing face. She looked into the man's face, nothing but hopefulness and adoration glowing in his eyes.

She nodded. “I'd like that.”

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[ 11:05 ] “You know he loves you, don’t you?” Chan questions as he hands you his car keys. You fiddle with the soft toy that hangs between the keys, tugging at the small wolf’s ears. 

Chan sighs. “Fine,” he says. “Just go.” 

You take a step towards the door before hesitating, lifting your eyes to meet his. You’d have to trust he’d keep this conversation to himself. You could feel it already, the anxiety that would bubble up to your throat the second you left the apartment with this conversation unresolved.

Minho was leaving. He was moving out—across the country—and he hadn’t said a word to you about it. Sure, you didn’t live here. But you may as well have. You spent so much time and the apartment he shared with Chan they’d often joke about when you were going to start splitting the bills. 

“What if he changes his mind?” you ask, managing to keep your voice steady. “If I do something… change how it is now… what if he changes his mind?” 

“Why would he do that?” 

“Because he’ll know me. He’ll get closer and maybe he won’t like what he finds.” 

Chan takes the keys from your hands, halting your fiddling. “Sit down,” he instructs gently, gesturing to the small lounge you’d taken to falling asleep on some nights. You do as he says, folding your hands in your lap as you wait for him to join you. 

He doesn’t. 

You watch as he disappears down the short hallway and into Minho’s bedroom, returning only moments later with a small shoebox in his hand. He doesn’t drag it out. He sits on the small table in front of you and opens the lid. 

It reminded you a lot of the small box you kept under your bed in your childhood bedroom, a collection of miscellaneous things you’d attached memories to as you’d grown. A bracelet from your 11th birthday, a playing card you’d scooped out of the water on your trip to Vietnam, the paper mache rabbit you’d made when you were 8, the key to the padlock you’d used for your locker in high school.

This box was much like that. You don’t recognise anything at first, not until Chan digs out a small clay cat, one of your earliest attempts at moulding clay figures. It was an ugly thing, wonky and misshapen. Minho had snatched it from your hands when you’d announced it was going in the rubbish. “He can’t help being ugly,” he’d said. “He’s mine now.” 

Chan passes the clay cat to you. He’s cuter than you’d remembered.

“They’re all from you," he says. 

You look up. “Hm?” 

“The box,” he clarifies. “They’re all things you’ve given him.” 

You peak into the box, attempting to spot anything else you recognise. There are scattered pieces of paper, some are sticky notes you vaguely remember attaching to his bedroom door on days you’d visited when he wasn’t home. You pick one up and read it silently, ‘You missed me. Unlucky for you. I’ll be around Friday.’ You’d drawn a small rabbit in the corner. 

Chan takes the note from you along with the clay cat. You watch as he places them back inside the shoebox and replaces the lid. “I shouldn’t let you go through it—not without his permission. I just need you to understand.” He places the box on the table beside him carefully, like it’s full of priceless porcelain. “You know him,” he continues. “He doesn’t make decisions lightly. He knows what he wants and when he wants something… that’s it. You’re it.” He sighs. “You know him.” 

You look to his discarded car keys. “You still need milk.” 

“I’ll get it. You’ll stay?” 

You nod. “I’ll stay.” 

—

He leaves shortly after that. Leaves you to pace as you wait for Minho to arrive. He was leaving. Leaving Chan. Leaving you. He hadn’t offered an explanation. 

You jump as he knocks on the door. He expected Chan to be home. He wasn't expecting you. You press your hand to your chest and take one last deep breath before marching over and letting him in. 

His eyes widen a little as he takes you in. You hadn’t seen him in two weeks now. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met three years prior. You step aside to let him in, pressing your fingers into your clavicle in an attempt to ground yourself. 

“I didn’t know you were coming around,” he says as he takes his shoes off. “Chan didn’t—” 

“He left,” you interrupt. “Chan. He went out because he wanted—I wanted to talk to you.” 

He stands and shucks his winter jacket from his shoulders. “Talk to me?” he questions. 

You nod. “Would you… sit? Please?” 

He looks a little nervous now. You wonder if he can see the same emotion in you. He sits exactly where you’d been sitting when Chan had shown you the box. He leaves his beanie on and you take in the way his brown hair peeks out around his neck. He waits. 

You can’t find it within yourself to sit, choosing to stand across from him instead—leaving the small table between you. “Can I ask you something?” 

He nods and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “Mm,” he says. “Anything.” 

“It’s a big ‘something’.”

“Okay,” he says simply. 

“Would you stay?” you ask, tugging on your fingers. Your heart thumps in your chest. “If I asked you to stay, would you?” 

His brow furrows slightly. “I—” 

“Because I need you to stay. Please. I need you not to leave me. I know it’s a lot and I don’t know why you’re leaving and I’m sure it’s very important and I don’t even know if you want to stay here. Maybe you don’t but—” 

“Wait,” he says, interrupting your rambling. You take a steadying breath as he stands. He tugs his beanie from his head and drops it onto the table. His hair stands on all ends. You desperately want to run your hands through it. But you can’t. Your knuckle pops as you tug a little hard on one of your fingers. “Leaving?” he questions, clearly confused. Alarm bells ring in your head. “Why would I leave?”

“Chan said—” you cut yourself off. Oh you were going to wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze so hard he– “You’re not leaving?”

“No. But you thought I was…you said you need me to stay...” Minho says with a smirk, making his way around the table slowly. 

“Forget everything I just said.” 

“Can’t,” he says, his smirk transforming into a small grin. “Sorry.” 

You could tell him you’d seen the box, a small voice in your head offers. Then you’d both be embarrassed. You snuff it out before it can fully form. If it was anyone else… But it was him. You’d take much worse than one-sided embarrassment for him. 

“Alright. Well, Chan had his fun. I’m going home.” 

Minho steps in front of you, cutting off your exit. “Stay,” he says simply. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want you to.” 

“Why?” 

He huffs out a breathy laugh. “Because I haven’t seen you in two weeks. Why is that, by the way? Chan said—” 

“Chan says a lot of things, apparently."

Minho collapses into the couch cushions beside you and throws his arm over the back of the lounge. You join him. “He said you were busy,” Minho says. “That you didn’t have time for us.” 

“I was… sulking.” 

He presses his lips together, failing to suppress a smile. “Sulking?” 

“I thought you were moving out. Chan wouldn’t tell me why he said you’d talk to me when you wanted to. But you didn’t. I thought you were leaving without even talking to me about it.” 

The hand over the back of the couch moves a little, then he begins playing with your hair—gentle fingers fiddling with the strands that fall over your shoulder. “I think it’s my fault,” he says as you struggle to regulate your breathing. “I said something to him a few weeks ago. Something that may have… caused this. I’ll fix it.” 

His fiddling with your hair breaks a barrier, one that allows you to lean a little towards him and fix the strands of hair that stick on all ends. He’s quiet at first, letting you brush his hair out with your fingers. Then, just as you begin working on a particularly stubborn tuft right at his parting, he speaks, “I would never leave you,” he says. It’s almost a whisper. Gentle and quiet, almost like he hadn’t meant to speak it at all. 

“You wouldn’t?”

He takes your arm, stubborn tuft forgotten. “I thought you knew that. I thought you knew that I…” he trails off as his eyes drop to where his fingers wrap around your wrist. 

“Minho?” you whisper. He looks up. “I do. I know.” 

He blinks, a brief moment of panic crossing his features as his fingers tighten on your wrist. 

“I love you, too,” you add quickly, keen to end his anxiety. “So much.” 

He blinks. Once, twice. Then he drops his head, letting his hair fall over his eyes. He takes a deep breath and you watch as he lifts your wrist to his lips. You can’t see the way he presses a kiss to your skin, his long hair obscuring your view. But you feel it. You feel his warm breath as he holds you there for a moment afterwards. 

Then he lifts his head. 

You catch a blur of his smile as he lunges at you, pushing you onto your back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. He keeps the majority of his weight off you and you bask in the warmth of him for the minute of two he stays like this. Then he’s sitting up again, tugging you up with him and practically lifting you into his lap. You wrap your arms around him, settling yourself comfortably against him as he releases a contented sigh. 

“Did Chan tell you?” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. 

“I knew before that.” 

He groans, dropping his head back. You can see the tiny mole at his jawline: a target. You press a gentle kiss there. “I knew you loved me,” you whisper. “You’re so good at it.. so full of love. But I—I think I was afraid you’d stop, like when you see a stray cat and you’re afraid if you move it’ll startle…that it’ll leave and you’ll never get to try again. Having you as a friend is better than not having you at all.” 

He lifts his head to look at you. You can see the way he’s fighting it, all the emotion. He doesn’t express it with words, but he doesn’t need to. It leaks from his eyes and from his gentle touches. “I don’t startle,” he grumbles after a moment. 

You grin. “‘M’kay, whatever you say,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his for the first time. 

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝? – Han x FEM Reader!

cw : guitarist and singer, rockstar, semi public sex, concert, bfwb to lovers, little bit crazy, perm han, love your thighs

sw : choke kink, biting, oral (both), piv, unprotected sex, humping, blowjob, hair pulling, pet names, MDNI.

wc : ?

synopsis : You and Jisung have been friends since primary school. A unique friendship. He had a special personality, quirky, a bit manic in some ways. Whereas you were always shy and kept to yourself. You always supported him, even in his budding career as a rock star. You loved the way he held the stage. Unfortunately, this job deprived him of many of life's pleasures, such as sex. One day he made a suggestion which, despite your initial embarrassment, you did not refuse. You were also sexually frustrated because you had never found a man who met your standards. And Jisung was the perfect man. So you began to be best friends with benefits. One day he will start his performance with a new look that will drive you crazy and this will result in a long and hot sex session.

MASTERLIST

[ HARD SMUT ]

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡ 🎀 COMING SOON

TAGLIST 🎀 : @yongbokkiesworld @gloomy-k @raindropsondragons @linocvp1d @iiamthedramaa @snowyquokka @pynchkilledme @y4kie @ihrtlix @hyunjinnnsgirl @sugarsweetsugarsweet @reader1221 @bubblebisk @skzswife @weareapackofstrays

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Stray Kids ignoring you when you reach out for help pt. 2

This is the fluffier ending to the situation, where the boys apologize for how they acted, as they should.

Part one is here!

Chan

Minho

Changbin

Hyunjin

Han

Felix

Seungmin

Jeongin

Taglist: @isagerada