summary. there are two things to know about han taesan. one, han taesan is hard to understand, and two, han taesan does not like you. it turns out that neither of these are particularly true.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, college/university!au
word count. 1.3k
warnings/notes. brief mention of drinks being spiked (not from MCs) // reader has mid to long hair
from bliss. in love with the concept of taesan looking so cool but being the most idiotic specimen on earth but even i think he’s questionable here 🧍♀️ nonetheless, i hope you enjoy this as much as i did! reblogs are welcomed with open arms :D
masterlist
taesan has always been a bit of an enigma.
he dresses like your typical emo skater boy, but is obsessed with chococat. he hates being called a cat, but has all kinds of cat-related accessories for his outfits. he looks like he would never be seen within a five-meter radius of any dessert, but always has five packs of pudding in his bag.
but above all, what truly confuses you is how he treats you.
for starters, taesan doesn’t like you.
at the very least, he’s uncomfortable around you.
that’s a well-established fact. has been, ever since you started hanging out with jaehyun and naturally integrated with the rest of his group. taesan has always kept his distance with you, even after you’ve grown close enough with everyone else for them to show up at your door unannounced. whenever it comes to you, he’s always chosen to be at the sidelines, walk a few steps behind, pipe up with minimal responses.
but it’s not like you have anything against him for that. you know it’s impossible for everyone to get along, even if it’s within the same friend group—especially when you joined later than everyone else—and it’s not like taesan has ever said or done anything offensive to you; he just . . . tolerates you.
as easily as your friends welcomed you with open arms, you simply accepted that that’s just how it’ll be between the two of you; floating in parallel orbits without ever reaching each other. and you’re okay with that.
. . . despite your tiny, little crush on him.
you don’t know when it started, but from some moment onwards, you frequently found your eyes drifting towards taesan. on monday, when the lecture is particularly boring; on wednesday, when the lecturer enters ten minutes late; on thursday, when his smile is especially blinding and there are strands of white fur on his black tee.
so, maybe your crush isn’t actually minuscule, and the chances of it being reciprocated are less than zero, but you can live with it. that’s just how taesan is with you.
but that’s also why it’s confusing when taesan does things that are so . . . uncharacteristic.
like when you’re having lunch at the cafeteria, and he casually picks up the banchan on his own tray to replenish yours. or when you let out a whisper that you’re cold, and he’s the first to remove his jacket to drape it over you. or when you once dug through your bag and pockets to find a hair tie before settling with a pen, and from then on you always see him with a hair tie on his wrist.
it’s even more confusing when you stare at him afterwards, equal parts flustered and fluttery, and all he does is look back at you in question, as if asking you “what's up?”, like what he did was nothing out of the ordinary; like it’s something he has no problem doing for you; like it’s something as normal as breathing.
and then, when you’re left to wonder what exactly it means, losing sleep and sanity, taesan would show up the next day, acting as usual—distant, aloof, withdrawn.
as much of a whiplash it is, you can’t say it’s particularly surprising. taesan, in all his enigmatic glory, has always been difficult to understand, to comprehend, to grasp.
but right now, you might be a step closer to figuring him out.
“don’t.” taesan’s hand is around your wrist, grip firm but gentle. he’s huffing a little, hair disheveled. it’s clear he had been running towards you, but you haven’t a single clue why.
“what . . . are you doing?” you look at your wrist, the way his hand engulfs it entirely, and then to his eyes. his pupils are so deep and dark that you’re drawn in immediately, and it’s then that you realise: you and taesan have never looked at each other face-to-face, this close before.
instead of looking away, which is what you expected and what he would have done, he does something completely uncharacteristic, once again.
for the first time, taesan takes a step inside your orbit.
your breath hitches at the proximity, and you almost want to ask if jaehyun is around the corner, filming this as a poor idea of a prank. but it’s taesan who’s in front of you, and he would never agree to anything like that. especially not when he’s looking at you like . . . that.
it’s so intense that you have to look away, find a spot on the gravel to ground yourself. but that doesn’t last long, because you’re immediately pulled back to him when he speaks, just like a force to a satellite.
“don’t have dinner with him,” he says—commands.
under normal circumstances, you might have butterflies. be thrilled, even. because this implies that he had been thinking about you; that what you do does affect him.
but right now, what you feel is something closer to indignation. you’re all dolled up, ready to meet someone new and have some fun, and hopefully rid yourself of your chronic illness of pining. but then the reason for all this comes and demands like you owe him?
before you can chew him out, taesan speaks again, and all the words on the tip of your tongue immediately melt away.
“he’s a terrible person.” he clenches his jaw. “has a reputation for . . . tampering with people’s drinks.” his grip on you tightens. “and i overheard him offering to take someone else out tomorrow.
“so . . .” he softens, his fingers slackened against your skin, “don’t go out with him.”
“i. . . .” you open your mouth but shut it immediately. this was the last thing you expected him to say when he came up to you, so you’re not entirely sure how to reply. you decide to say the most appropriate thing first: “thank you for telling me.
“but . . .” you continue before he adds anything, “why?”
“why?” taesan repeats, reeling back in surprise. “what do you mean?”
“why . . . did you come all the way here?” you tilt your head in question. “your class just ended, didn’t it? that means you ran all the way from campus to my dorm to tell me this. which i’m super grateful for, of course!” you add quickly. “but i’m just . . . confused.” internally, you wonder when you’re ever not confused by him. “a phone call would have sufficed.”
taesan blinks, as if he hadn’t thought about that.
“oh.” he lets out. “that . . . wasn’t on my mind.” he scratches his nape. “i just wanted to see you.”
you freeze, your brain short-circuiting. it takes a while to recover, but even then, taesan is still looking at you like he hadn’t just spewed out your new sleep-deprivation material, like it’s truly something as normal as breathing for him.
“taesan.” you call out, and the way his thumb brushes your skin in response sends a jolt down your spine. “do you . . .” you pause, rethinking your wording, before deciding on a far safer option. “are we good?”
“huh?” he tilts his head, wondering if you’re making a joke. when he sees that you’re not, he answers definitively. “of course.”
you let out a shaky breath, unconsciously leaning towards him. so . . . you’re good. taesan doesn’t dislike you. that’s good enough—no, way better news than anything.
“okay.” you nod, and a strike of confidence hits you. emboldened by the newfound knowledge, you inch closer. “i’m all dressed up, but i just found out my date is an asshole. what should i do, taesan?”
“huh?” taesan looks flustered, and you revel in that information now that the smokescreen blocking your vision has disappeared. “you . . . can still go out?” his tone is hesitant and clumsy, but nothing short of endearing.
“right.” you nod. “so go out with me, taesan.”
taesan splutters. “w–what?”
“be my date instead, taesan.”
and for the first time, you know what his answer is going to be.
summary. after a long day, all you really want is to be in taesan’s arms.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, established relationship
word count. 0.9k
warnings. n/a
from bliss. fun fact: this wasn’t the original taesan fic i wanted to post for his bday bcs stms it’s easier to write sth in 3 hrs than finish a draft you’ve had for the past 5 months 👩🦯 but as always, please enjoy this, and i hope everyone gets to have their own taesan in their lives :)
masterlist
you and taesan have never been overly touchy with each other. it’s not that you both dislike physical touch; you just tend to express your feelings more often through quiet moments spent together.
today, however, you need taesan more than ever.
you trudge inside your shared apartment, your body feeling unbearably heavy. taesan is sitting on the sofa with headphones on and his ipad propped up on his knees, a contemplative look on his face. it’s a familiar sight, one that occurs whenever a new idea for a composition strikes in his head and he has to record it down immediately, so you usually leave him alone to not disrupt his creative process.
seeing this, you force yourself to stand by the door, hoping for at least a greeting before you can retreat inside your room—if your boyfriend was busy, you’d rather break down without him seeing.
almost immediately, taesan looks up and smiles, the kind where his eyes are squeezed into crescents and whiskers appear under them. but when he finally sees you, he instantly plants his feet on the floor, setting his ipad aside and ripping off his headphones.
“y/n?” his voice is soft and gentle. he always treats you like a delicate flower; it makes you feel like you can fall apart in his presence and he’ll be there to pick up your pieces.
“y/n,” he calls again, and he’s about to get up before you briskly walk towards him and all but jump on him.
with your knees on either side of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and drop your head on his shoulder. noticeably, taesan tenses at the uncharted touch and a moment of hesitation lingers. but his arms soon shoot up to envelop you, hands resting firmly on either side of your torso as he holds you tightly against himself.
he remains silent, letting you take in his warmth as he gently caresses your back. you nuzzle against his neck, wanting to get as close to him as you can. despite his surprise at your touch, he doesn’t make it known and mirrors your actions, nosing your collarbone as he pulls you even closer.
you thought you would break into tears immediately in his arms, but the more you lean into his touch, the more you feel your weariness dissipate, until the huge lump in your throat eventually melts as well.
sensing your breathing calm down and your body turning lax against his, he places a kiss on your neck and whispers against your skin: “i’m here.” it’s a simple declaration; two words that neither push you to speak nor stop you from sharing, but just to remind you that, whatever it is, he’s always by your side.
“i… had a bad day today,” you begin, and taesan’s hold on you never once falters. as you tell him about what happened, his fingers continuously draw idle circles on your back, and he hums softly to reassure you that he’s listening.
“how do you feel now?” taesan, gentle as ever, asks after you stop talking.
“...a lot better,” you confess and nuzzle against his neck again, landing a peck there to emphasize your point.
“i’m glad.” the smile is evident from his voice alone, even if you can’t see his face.
a few more moments of silence pass between you, the two of you simply relishing each other’s company. it’s only when you catch taesan’s ipad light up with a notification from your peripheral vision that you remember what he had been doing before your near-break-down.
you pull yourself away, but your hands remain on his shoulders, as do his on your waist. “you were composing something before this, right?” your eyebrows are knitted in guilt, lips jutting out similarly. “sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt you… you can continue now.”
“no, don’t apologise,” taesan replies immediately, shaking his head. he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ears and smiles, fondness seeping from every pore, “i’ll always put you before anything else.”
it’s strange how the emotions you initially expected to spill over from your negative experiences today are now threatening to escape from these words instead. with the lump returning to your throat once again, you don’t trust your voice to speak.
instead, you move your hands to cup his face and lean down to place your lips on his, letting your body do the talking instead.
with every movement, your feelings translate from your heart to his. his grip on your waist tightens as he cranes his neck to capture more and more of these feelings, until both of you are rendered breathless from all the emotions filling your bodies, squeezing around your ribs, your lungs, and your hearts.
when you pull away, the dazed look on taesan is something that you want to carve into your mind forever. for someone who’s never uncomposed, the fact that he’s been rendered like this, and because of you, makes your insides twist with something far greater than you can explain.
summary. short scenarios about boynextdoor in a zombie apocalypse.
pairing. boynextdoor (ot6) x reader
genre. zombie apocalypse!au, high school!au, angst, fluff if you squint at certain scenarios
word count. 2.6k (0.4k–0.5k each)
warnings. non-graphic depiction of violence towards the zombies, implied major character death (in 1 scenario). all scenario-specific warnings will be mentioned at the start.
from bliss. in light of bnd's 1st anniv, the new what?door! ep coming soon, and the sudden influx of 좀넥도 content on k-onedoor twt, i hereby present my brainrot to you. enjoy!
masterlist
sungho
sungho is at archery practice when he hears it; the screams around the school, so incredibly raw that he knows they’ll echo in his mind again and again, long after today.
he finds out the reason just a few moments later, far sooner than he can properly digest the disconcerting noises. seeing the glass doors crash and break into a million pieces is a sight, but the true sight comes a second later, when the cause of the destruction hurtles towards him.
and he freezes. it’s just for a beat, but a beat too long. he sees the exact movements of the rotten fingers reaching for him, so unmistakable it’s as if he’s viewing it in slow-motion, then something in him finally clicks. he instantly ducks down, which happens the same time he feels something tug at his wrist, but his scream doesn’t get to escape his throat when he hears yours.
“sungho sunbae!” you yell as you maneuver around the onslaught of rotting bodies. you’re dragging him towards the staircase leading to the second level of your practice area, because archers will always have the upper hand from longer distances. “what the hell are you doing?”
it’s an immediate reality check. he looks around, and it’s chaos; there are zombies flowing in from every exit, screams and shouts being heard from within and outside the room, and the distinct sound of arrows cutting through the air. he looks back to you, running in front of him and pulling him along to keep him safe.
you’re right. what is he doing? everyone knows that as an archer, agility is one of the essentials, but he had nearly lost himself from a moment of hesitance. he feels even more embarrassed that you, who have always claimed to be his super fan, is saving his ass literally single-handedly by using the back of your bow to shove the zombies away because your other hand is wrapped around his wrist.
at the realisation, he grips his own bow tighter in his hands and promptly turns around despite your protests.
“take care of my back. i’ll handle this,” he says as he walks backwards, aiming his bow at the herd.
riwoo
warning: implied major character death
riwoo prides himself in staying calm, even in the most extreme situations. but somehow, it shocks even himself that this statement still rings true in a national crisis.
when he hears screams so loud they burst through the music blasting in their dance practice, he doesn’t hide the rise of his eyebrows. but he doesn’t mention anything either, considering none of his members seem affected.
when the noise doesn’t cease, however, instead growing by the second, he raises a hand to signal a pause in their practice. one of the members runs to turn off the music, and the immediate juxtaposition that occurs is more than unsettling. with the room abruptly falling into pin-drop silence, the flood of screams rattling the walls is even more prominent. that’s when the dancers start to grow wary.
despite this, riwoo is calm. he’s confused, but not frantic. even when the doors of the practice room burst open and you stagger inside in terrified hurry, he’s calm. even when he notices the red patch of fabric on your arm that you’re clutching tightly, he’s calm. even when you’re trudging towards him with a weird gait, he’s calm. even when he's gesturing to the rest of the members to leave the room, knowing he’ll be left alone with you, he’s calm.
it’s weird, he thinks as he watches all of his members run for their lives before his eyes fall back to yours, noting the way the recognition in them is flickering. it’s weird how, instead of following his team, he’s reaching out to thumb at your tears, which only prompts more to flow down.
he thinks so again as he wraps his arms around you, tightening his hold like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do this. with you in his arms, he can clearly feel the unusual twitches from your body, and yet he’s still calm.
when you cup riwoo’s face with shaky hands, scanning his face as if to engrave it in your memory, he only offers the warmest smile he can. he tries to do the same; to capture this moment to the fullest. so when he sees the exact moment your eyes turn unfamiliar, he lets go of himself as well.
jaehyun
if someone told jaehyun that within just a few minutes, he would receive a confession from his nine-month crush before his football match and immediately get thrown into a life or death situation, he’d laugh at them for saying nonsense.
but that’s exactly what happened.
“wait, did i hear that correctly?” jaehyun is bewildered, eyes nearly popping out of his sockets. “you… like me?”
you twiddle with your fingers and nod slowly. like this, you look even cuter than usual, and jaehyun is practically melting; it takes everything in him to not reach out to squeeze your cheeks. looking at his round eyes that are even rounder from the shock, you ask timidly, “are you going to reject me?”
“reject?!” it comes off louder than intended, but effectively shows just how much he’s in disbelief. “how could i ever reject you?” he lets out softly, directly reflecting the expression on his face.
the way you brighten up immediately is a sight to behold, one jaehyun would like to keep dear to himself forever. but his forever has barely started when he hears screams from the bleachers.
jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “what? have the others gone out already?” he peeks out of the locker rooms.
at first, he’s confused. there’s no one on the field, but the screams are increasing by the second. everyone in the audience is scurrying frantically, running and pushing past one another. despite his own apprehension, he senses your tenseness behind him and quickly cracks a joke to ease you first. “don’t tell me they’re this terrified of a mickey mouse?” he laughs, turning to look at you, but his face drops immediately.
you’re watching the scene as if something from your nightmares came to life, the horror on your face terrifyingly palpable. your drastic reaction only makes him grow more antsy than he already was, and he finally understands why when he turns back to the field again.
if there’s one thing in the world he’s more terrified of than ghosts, it’s the possibility of an infectious virus outbreak that threatens humanity.
and he’s witnessing it happen right now.
for a football player, his legs are utterly useless now as he wobbles from his own weight. before he can drop to the ground fully, you’re already next to him and hoisting him up.
“jaehyun,” you call, and he’s surprised at the firmness of your tone, a complete contrast from the meekness before. “hold onto me tightly, okay?” you interlock your fingers together and take a step forward, standing in front of him. “we're gonna have to run.”
taesan
both you and taesan are aware of how terrible this could go.
you’re in the music room, surrounded by instruments of all sorts. in normal circumstances, these instruments would be as welcoming as a warm hug, offering the solace you needed after a long day. but now, seeing them only makes uneasiness zap through your veins.
you don’t have time to ponder your decision again when you hear the inhuman noises you’ve unfortunately grown familiar with. after ensuring the doors are locked well, you stride to your makeshift stage by the windows, where taesan is standing by the keyboard. he nods at the window, where a rope is hanging from the highest floor down to the ground, and you mimic the gesture before slinging your bass over your shoulders.
your fingers immediately find their positions on the instrument from muscle memory, which puts a flash of a smile on your face. you look at taesan, who’s already looking at you, and he nods reassuringly.
he smiles, “shall we play for our biggest audience yet?”
for the briefest of moments, you hear a pin-drop silence that you haven’t been able to experience since the outbreak. you shut your eyes, taking it in. then, before you realise, the bass is echoing throughout the speakers.
you look at taesan as you play, both to help your nerves from the crowd that you know will be right outside anytime soon, and to live this moment to the fullest. after all, you’re not sure whether you’ll be able to ever do this again.
taesan shares the same sentiment, because he’s soon opening his mouth to yell out the lyrics of your go-to song, the one that’s been yours ever since you joined the band together.
you flicker your eyes over to the herd that has arrived outside the room, banging at the doors and windows as they try to enter. despite the situation, looking at taesan and the way he’s relishing the music puts a smile on your face, so much that even when you see cracks start to form in the doors, you no longer feel the overwhelming sense of despair.
when you notice that the doors are bending more under the weight, you and taesan share a nod; the cue for him to step away from the keyboard and climb onto the rope behind you. it’s the final part of the song, the bass solo, which is also nearing the final part of your plan.
the second you hit the last note, you unceremoniously swing the bass towards the door and jump into taesan’s arms, just in time for the doors to break down.
leehan
warning: non-graphic depiction of bashing a zombie in the head
the peace of leehan’s nap gets shattered when he hears the thud of the door, immediately followed by irritating growls and a poorly muffled scream. he’s ready to ignore them until he hears the cart of balls being dragged away and crashing into something, presumably the zombie itself, which has not only pierced his eardrums but also unveiled his hiding place to sleep in the gym’s storage room.
he sighs. dropping the open book covering his face, he stands up and adjusts the lollipop in his mouth before placing his hands in his pockets. he walks towards the opposite corner of the room, where the source of the disturbance finally comes into view.
you’re cowering behind a stack of mats, and despite the top of your head clearly peeking out, you don’t dare to look at anything beyond the faux shield. he merely spares one glance at you before he turns to the problem itself. then, he notes that it’s either the zombie has strength that’s off the charts or you’re incredibly weak at aiming, because the cart is nowhere near the zombie and is by the wall instead.
he shrugs off the observation when he sees the zombie staggering towards him, and he slowly takes a few steps back. then, in an action as swift as the wind, he twists his body in a semicircular motion and delivers a kick right to the zombie’s head, effectively bashing it onto the floor—all the while keeping his hands in his pockets and the lollipop dangling over his lips.
you’ve since looked up from your hiding spot, and there’s a newfound expression on your face. however, when you look back at the twitching body on the floor, the fear returns at once.
leehan looks over to you, and in the most nonchalant tone, as if he hadn’t just casually roundhouse-kicked a zombie, says, “don't lure them in here. they're so loud.”
you can only offer a shaky nod, and then he’s walking back to his original position. but when he sees you stand up and stumble towards the door, he halts in his steps and turns to face you completely.
“didn’t you hear what i said? you’ll lure them in if you open the door. just stay here.”
woonhak
you’ve never had a proper interaction with woonhak, but from the bits of information you’ve unwillingly gathered due to his popularity, your impression of him isn’t the best. he’s loud, boisterous, and sometimes just rowdy; you can’t help but paint him as this immature kid in your head.
but your prejudice has been completely shattered today.
when the signs of a virus outbreak first appeared in your school, starting with your classmate who had entered the class with a ghostly pale complexion and nosebleed, all you knew was you had to run. and that’s all you’ve been doing for the past hour, burning your muscles and lungs without stopping to narrowly avoid the grasp of death.
until you found yourself tripping over a stack of tables, and your legs got trapped under all the tables that had toppled over you.
when you tried to pull your legs out, all it did was cause the tables to fall even more, making it harder for you to move at all. the noise had also attracted the zombies roaming endlessly, so when you saw silhouettes dashing towards the room after your futile attempts to get yourself up, you had already resigned yourself to your fate—the mangled jaws right before your eyes. you could only shut your eyes and brace yourself for the inevitable.
but then you heard the groans from the herd in front of you, followed by the lightened weight on your legs and the crash of something across the room, and you immediately opened your eyes.
there, standing in front of you, is kim woonhak. he has a table in his hands, the flat surface facing him and the legs outwards, using it to hold back the herd before you with a wince.
you don’t know how, but he manages to hold the table with one hand while reaching out with the other to grab onto another table over your legs, hurling it across the room.
you watch him do this for a few moments, until it finally clicks that the noise is too loud. you search around the room frantically for something—anything—you could do to help, and your eyes soon land on a baseball bat a short distance away.
“woonhak,” you call.
“mhm?” he grimaces, struggling to use the table as a shield when the crowd seems to grow by the second.
“are you good with a baseball bat?” you ask, holding up the weapon.
he turns to you for a split second, seeing the bat before he faces the front again. he instantly catches what you’re insinuating, and his decision is a no-brainer.
“pass it,” he reaches out his hand without looking.
you’re surprised, but you don’t waste another second before giving it to him. almost immediately, he drops his makeshift shield, and what you see next completely repaints your image of him. by the time you’re able to get yourself out, he has already cleared half of them. it seems you’re constantly getting surprised today.
before he can pass out, you quickly tap on his shoulder and grab the bat from him without asking. “thanks a lot, woonhak. take a breather; i’ll take care of the rest.”
from bliss. half of this was easy to write, and half was hell. guess which one was which
pairing. kim leehan x reader
genre. best friends to (soon-to-be) lovers, fluff, a sprinkle of angst, mutual pining
word count. 1.8k
warnings/notes. reader is drunk and attempts to kiss leehan in this state // reader is shorter than leehan and wears makeup
masterlist
all it takes is one call from you, calling out his name with a voice that’s poutier than normal, before leehan’s striding out the door with his car keys in his hands.
when he sees you, you’re leaning against an electric pole, hugging it like it’s your lifeline. your other friends are around you, trying to pry you off, but you only push them away. from where he parks, he vaguely catches his name falling from your lips before he marches towards you and calls out your name himself.
you look up, eyes widened like saucers. instantly, as if you’re electrocuted, you pull away from the pole and glare at it, reprimanding. “you’re not leehan.”
the group around you bursts into laughter, and leehan can’t help the small chuckle that escapes him either. when he walks closer to you, you immediately cling onto him the same way you did to the pole, your cheek squished against his chest.
“my leehan is here,” you mumble.
he would have melted—no, dissolved—if not for the fact that he’s wholly supporting your weight and that all your friends are eyeing the two of you giddily. hence, his legs are forced to hold up straight, even though his heart is nothing but putty in your hands. he translates this through his expression instead, softening as he looks down at you and gently pats your head.
after thanking your friends for taking care of you, he walks off with you in tow. with one hand placed securely on the small of your back, he opens the car door with the other and attempts to seat you in the passenger’s seat. it takes a bit, because you’re reluctant to leave your hold on him, but he eventually gets you inside the car.
still leaning over, he easily fastens your seatbelt with a click. when he tries to pull away, however, you immediately snake your arms around his neck, holding him in place. it’s so sudden that he drops his hand onto your thigh for balance, but he quickly moves it before the touch can linger.
you’re staring at him, eyelashes fluttering. unlike your previous demeanour, your eyes seem to have more clarity in them now. you’re looking at him as if you’re searching for something beyond, while he’s looking at you as if he’s searching for a way out.
it’s too much. the blasting music down the street, the whirs of engines on the road, the mix of breaths between you, the ghost of your fingers on his nape, the weight of your eyes on him, the beat of his heart against his chest.
he feels too much, and yet, he can’t take his eyes off you.
slowly, you drag one hand from his nape, your fingers brushing past his ears and sending shivers down his spine, until it settles on his jaw. you cradle it gently, your thumb caressing his cheek. then, for a sliver of a moment, you drop your gaze.
it’s just a split second, but he catches it all the same. without realising, he finds himself flickering his eyes as well, and it’s all the indication you need to pull him closer.
that’s when leehan smiles, and then removes your arms around him easily. “get some rest. i’ll wake you up when we arrive.” he pats your head before shutting the car door.
when he climbs in the car from the opposite side, you’re facing the front and blinking blankly as if you’ve been slapped. he resists the urge to hold your hand like he always does on car rides, and forces his eyes to the front before driving off.
you do end up falling asleep, and when he gets you out of the car, he has to hoist you up against him snugly because you’re leaning your entire weight on him again. he doesn't mind, never when it comes to you, so he keeps his arm around your waist the entire time he’s bringing you up to your apartment. even when he reaches your door and has to fish out the spare key you gave him from his bag, he makes sure his hold on you is secure and that you’re resting your head on him.
when he unlocks the door, it seems to have briefly snapped you out of your delirium, because you’re removing yourself from him and staggering towards the sofa, much to his concern. he swiftly moves next to you, guiding you to the soft cushions and gently laying you down.
you immediately shut your eyes, quick to fall asleep again. at this, leehan sighs as he brushes the hair away from your face. “don’t wanna wash up first?” he asks softly. when you scrunch your nose in displeasure, he lets out a small smile. “not even your makeup?” he prods, and you respond with a quiet groan before you fall silent again.
his smile increases and he nods. “okay. just rest.”
truth be told, the alcohol in your system has already started to dissipate bit by bit, so even if you wanted to sleep—and never wake up again after what happened in the car—you couldn’t help but register all the stimuli around you, effectively reconnecting your consciousness to the world. this includes the ruffles of leehan’s clothes as he stands up and the fading of his footsteps as he opens the door to a room, prompting a series of noises from within, before the footsteps are fading back in until they cease right next to you.
the shuffles are heard again as he sits down, then the light sound of bottles hitting the floor. you furrow your eyebrows, finally opening your eyes just in time to see leehan place a soaked cotton pad on your face.
leehan immediately smiles when he meets your gaze, and he wordlessly prompts you to close your eyes so he can place two cotton pads on them. you do so without a fight, though your insides are practically fighting.
“let me know if i’m too rough,” he says, then begins swiping a cotton pad across your skin. he lets the ones on your eyes sit for just a little longer before he gently wipes off your eye makeup. “i’m sorry,” he lets out meekly when he has to apply more pressure on a stubborn area.
you remain silent the entire time, but you open your eyes again when you feel a warm towel on your face. he meets your eyes and smiles, as softly as how he’s dabbing the towel on your skin, wiping away the residue of your makeup remover. he does this a few times; washing the towel in the bowl of water and squeezing out the excess; and you keep your eyes on him all the while.
when he thinks he’s successfully cleaned your makeup, he adjusts his position, ready to stand up, but your voice immediately halts him.
“leehan,” you call, quiet and almost vulnerable.
he places your skincare back on the floor and faces you completely. “yeah?” he responds, round eyes staring at you softly… and fondly.
“you just took off my makeup,” you state matter-of-factly, ignoring your astute observation which has only added to the whirlwind inside you.
leehan blinks, then nods. “did i do it wrong?” he asks. “but i did it like this last time too… and the youtube videos….” he trails off, talking more to himself than anything.
“leehan,” you begin, your eyebrows furrowing. “do you do this for your other friends?”
he looks almost scandalized at your question. “no?” he lets out in incredulity. “you know i only do this for you.”
recollections of all the times you had been drunk and all the times he had taken care of you without any complaints, including taking off your makeup, flash across your head.
you suck in a sharp breath, looking him in the eyes directly. “then why?”
leehan tilts his head. “what do you mean?”
you avert your gaze, suddenly feeling too seen by him. silence encompasses you for a while and he allows it, waiting for you but not urging you—it’s little things like this that made you realise you never stood a chance against the line that threatens to be crossed in your friendship.
you hope he feels the same when you ask, “why did you reject me?”
the air feels heavy when you drop the question, and the silence that follows is even more so. you don’t dare to look at him, especially after the prolonged hesitance from him. still, you wait, even though you’re already close to withering inside. but when he finally speaks, the last bit of hope you’ve futilely held onto escapes like a droplet of water from a broken pipe.
“you’re drunk,” he says, but he instantly realises the gravity of his words when he sees the way you falter, the way he can hear a crack from you—and he feels himself shatter as well.
“no, y/n, i didn’t mean it like that,” he coaxes, getting up on his knees and placing a hand on your arm when you turn away from him.
“what other meaning is there?”
he pats your arm, prompting you to turn around. “look at me, y/n, please,” his tone is so sincere that you waver, glancing back at him.
“i’m not saying you’re drunk because i’m trying to dismiss what you said,” he says firmly, needing to be as clear as possible. “but because it’s just not right for me to accept any gesture like that in your state,” he starts, then adds softly; hesitantly, “as much as i wanted to.”
the tears prickling at your eyes had been so close to falling until you caught what he said at the end. suddenly, your tears are gone and all you’re left with is confusion.
“hold on,” you turn to face him fully, momentarily surprised by the lack of proximity between you before you focus again. “did i hear that correctly?”
leehan’s ears turn an evident cerise, but he doesn’t move his eyes that are blinking up at you roundly. “i don’t want to talk about this when you’re drunk,” he laments, almost petulantly.
“i’m not drunk,” you refute firmly, and while you know it’s not entirely false, you also know your best friend wouldn’t fall for it.
“i’d rather spill my heart out when you’re not seconds away from passing out.” he attempts a joke, one corner of his lips quirking weakly, even though he feels like his heart is actually about to spill out his chest with the way it’s rattling his rib cage in anxiety.
you don’t have the energy to entertain him, so you remain tight-lipped as you stare at him.
leehan breathes out, deflating as he opens his mouth again. “instead,” he says, all traces of playfulness gone. “please… remember this moment.” he looks at you through his lashes, suddenly seeming so small, and his tone is too solemn, too desperate. “i’m not sure if i can handle another seven years.”
from bliss. i just wanted to write abt leehan taking off ur makeup when ure drunk idk why it turned into a word vomit 😭 but i hope it was enjoyable to read!
summary. after a long day, all you really want is to be in taesan’s arms.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, established relationship
word count. 0.9k
warnings. n/a
from bliss. fun fact: this wasn’t the original taesan fic i wanted to post for his bday bcs stms it’s easier to write sth in 3 hrs than finish a draft you’ve had for the past 5 months 👩🦯 but as always, please enjoy this, and i hope everyone gets to have their own taesan in their lives :)
masterlist
you and taesan have never been overly touchy with each other. it’s not that you both dislike physical touch; you just tend to express your feelings more often through quiet moments spent together.
today, however, you need taesan more than ever.
you trudge inside your shared apartment, your body feeling unbearably heavy. taesan is sitting on the sofa with headphones and his ipad propped up on his knees, a contemplative look on his face. it’s a familiar sight, one that occurs whenever a new idea for a composition strikes in his head and he has to record it down immediately, so you usually leave him alone to not disrupt his creative process.
seeing this, you force yourself to stand by the door, hoping for at least a greeting before you can retreat inside your room—if your boyfriend was busy, you’d rather break down without him seeing.
almost immediately, taesan looks up and smiles, the kind where his eyes are squeezed into crescents and whiskers appear under them. but when he finally sees you, he instantly plants his feet on the floor, setting his ipad aside and ripping off his headphones.
“y/n?” his voice is soft and gentle. he always treats you like a delicate flower; it makes you feel like you can fall apart in his presence and he’ll be there to pick up your pieces.
“y/n,” he calls again, and he’s about to get up before you briskly walk towards him and all but jump on him.
with your knees on either side of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and drop your head on his shoulder. noticeably, taesan tenses at the uncharted touch, and a moment of hesitation lingers. but his arms quickly shoot up to envelop you, hands resting firmly on either side of your torso as he holds you tightly against himself.
he remains silent, letting you take in his warmth as he gently caresses your back. you nuzzle against his neck, wanting to get as close to him as you can. despite his surprise at your touch, he doesn’t make it known and mirrors your actions, nosing your collarbone as he pulls you even closer.
you thought you would break into tears immediately in his arms, but the more you lean into his touch, the more you feel your weariness dissipate, until the huge lump in your throat eventually melts as well.
sensing your breathing calm down and your body turning lax against his, he places a kiss on your neck and whispers against your skin: “i’m here.” it’s a simple declaration; two words that neither push you to speak nor stop you from sharing, but just to remind you that, whatever it is, he’s always by your side.
“i… had a bad day today,” you begin, and taesan’s hold on you never once falters. as you tell him about what happened, his fingers continuously draw idle circles on your back, and he hums softly to reassure you that he’s listening.
“how do you feel now?” taesan, gentle as ever, asks after you stop talking.
“...a lot better,” you confess and nuzzle against his neck again, landing a peck there to emphasize your point.
“i’m glad.” the smile is evident from his voice alone, even if you can’t see his face.
a few more moments of silence pass between you, the two of you simply relishing each other’s company. it’s only when you catch taesan’s ipad light up with a notification from your peripheral vision that you remember what he had been doing before your near-break-down.
you pull yourself away, but your hands remain on his shoulders, as do his on your waist. “you were composing something before this, right?” your eyebrows are knitted in guilt, lips jutting out similarly. “sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt you… you can continue now.”
“no, don’t apologise,” taesan replies immediately, shaking his head. he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ears and smiles, fondness seeping from every pore, “i’ll always put you before anything else.”
it’s strange how the emotions you initially expected to spill over from your negative experiences today are now threatening to escape from these seven words instead. with the lump returning to your throat once again, you don’t trust your voice to speak.
instead, you move your hands to cup his face and lean down to place your lips on his, letting your body do the talking instead.
with every movement, your feelings translate from your heart to his. his grip on your waist tightens as he cranes his neck to capture more and more of these feelings, until both of you are rendered breathless from all the emotions filling your bodies, squeezing around your ribs, your lungs, and your hearts.
when you pull away, the dazed look on taesan is something that you want to carve into your mind forever. for someone who’s never uncomposed, the fact that he’s been rendered like this, and because of you, makes your insides twist with something far greater than you can explain.
Ahhh, I can’t stop thinking about this scene🥺 The way you captured Taesan’s quiet, gentle love—it’s like I can feel him holding me together through the day. The little touches, the hums, the way he always puts you first… my heart literally melted reading this.
@starryjihyoz Thank you so much for sharing one of your fave fics with me, I’m never getting over it🫶
oh my goddd thank you sooo much for this lovely reblog 🥹 im genuinely so glad i can deliver the same scene i imagined in my own head to other people through this measly bundle of words 🤧 thank you for reading!
summary. there are two things to know about han taesan. one, han taesan is hard to understand, and two, han taesan does not like you. it turns out that neither of these are particularly true.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, college/university!au
word count. 1.3k
warnings. brief mention of drinks being spiked (not from MCs)
from bliss. in love with the concept of taesan looking so cool but being the most idiotic specimen on earth but even i think he’s questionable here 🧍♀️ nonetheless, i hope you enjoy this as much as i did! reblogs are welcomed with open arms :D
masterlist
taesan has always been a bit of an enigma.
he dresses like your typical emo skater boy, but is obsessed with chococat. he hates being called a cat, but has all kinds of cat-related accessories for his outfits. he looks like he would never be seen within a five-meter radius of any dessert, but always has five packs of pudding in his bag.
but above all, what truly confuses you is how he treats you.
for starters, taesan doesn’t like you.
at the very least, he’s uncomfortable around you.
that’s a well-established fact. has been, ever since you started hanging out with jaehyun and naturally integrated with the rest of his group. taesan has always kept his distance with you, even after you’ve grown close enough with everyone else for them to show up at your door unannounced. whenever it comes to you, he’s always chosen to be at the sidelines, walk a few steps behind, pipe up with minimal responses.
but it’s not like you have anything against him for that. you know it’s impossible for everyone to get along, even if it’s within the same friend group—especially when you joined later than everyone else—and it’s not like taesan has ever said or done anything offensive to you; he just . . . tolerates you.
as easily as your friends welcomed you with open arms, you simply accepted that that’s just how it’ll be between the two of you; floating in parallel orbits without ever reaching each other. and you’re okay with that.
. . . despite your tiny, little crush on him.
you don’t know when it started, but from some moment onwards, you frequently found your eyes drifting towards taesan. on monday, when the lecture is particularly boring; on wednesday, when the lecturer enters ten minutes late; on thursday, when his smile is especially blinding and there are strands of white fur on his black tee.
so, maybe your crush isn’t actually minuscule, and the chances of it being reciprocated are less than zero, but you can live with it. that’s just how taesan is with you.
but that’s also why it’s confusing when taesan does things that are so . . . uncharacteristic.
like when you’re having lunch at the cafeteria, and he casually picks up the banchan on his own tray to replenish yours. or when you let out a whisper that you’re cold, and he’s the first to remove his jacket to drape it over you. or when you once dug through your bag and pockets to find a hair tie before settling with a pen, and from then on you always see him with a hair tie on his wrist.
it’s even more confusing when you stare at him afterwards, equal parts flustered and fluttery, and all he does is look back at you in question, as if asking you “what's up?”, like what he did was nothing out of the ordinary; like it’s something he has no problem doing for you; like it’s something as normal as breathing.
and then, when you’re left to wonder what exactly it means, losing sleep and sanity, taesan would show up the next day, acting as usual—distant, aloof, withdrawn.
as much of a whiplash it is, you can’t say it’s particularly surprising. taesan, in all his enigmatic glory, has always been difficult to understand, to comprehend, to grasp.
but right now, you might be a step closer to figuring him out.
“don’t.” taesan’s hand is around your wrist, grip firm but gentle. he’s huffing a little, hair disheveled. it’s clear he had been running towards you, but you haven’t a single clue why.
“what . . . are you doing?” you look at your wrist, the way his hand engulfs it entirely, and then to his eyes. his pupils are so deep and dark that you’re drawn in immediately, and it’s then that you realise: you and taesan have never looked at each other face-to-face, this close before.
instead of looking away, which is what you expected and what he would have done, he does something completely uncharacteristic, once again.
for the first time, taesan takes a step inside your orbit.
your breath hitches at the proximity, and you almost want to ask if jaehyun is around the corner, filming this as a poor idea of a prank. but it’s taesan who’s in front of you, and he would never agree to anything like that. especially not when he’s looking at you like . . . that.
it’s so intense that you have to look away, find a spot on the gravel to ground yourself. but that doesn’t last long, because you’re immediately pulled back to him when he speaks, just like a force to a satellite.
“don’t have dinner with him,” he says—commands.
under normal circumstances, you might have butterflies. be thrilled, even. because this implies that he had been thinking about you; that what you do does affect him.
but right now, what you feel is something closer to indignation. you’re all dolled up, ready to meet someone new and have some fun, and hopefully rid yourself of your chronic illness of pining. but then the reason for all this comes and demands like you owe him?
before you can chew him out, taesan speaks again, and all the words on the tip of your tongue immediately melt away.
“he’s a terrible person.” he clenches his jaw. “has a reputation for . . . tampering with people’s drinks.” his grip on you tightens. “and i overheard him offering to take someone else out tomorrow.
“so . . .” he softens, his fingers slackened against your skin, “don’t go out with him.”
“i. . . .” you open your mouth but shut it immediately. this was the last thing you expected him to say when he came up to you, so you’re not entirely sure how to reply. you decide to say the most appropriate thing first: “thank you for telling me.
“but . . .” you continue before he adds anything, “why?”
“why?” taesan repeats, reeling back in surprise. “what do you mean?”
“why . . . did you come all the way here?” you tilt your head in question. “your class just ended, didn’t it? that means you ran all the way from campus to my dorm to tell me this. which i’m super grateful for, of course!” you add quickly. “but i’m just . . . confused.” internally, you wonder when you’re ever not confused by him. “a phone call would have sufficed.”
taesan blinks, as if he hadn’t thought about that.
“oh.” he lets out. “that . . . wasn’t on my mind.” he scratches his nape. “i just wanted to see you.”
you freeze, your brain short-circuiting. it takes a while to recover, but even then, taesan is still looking at you like he hadn’t just spewed out your new sleep-deprivation material, like it’s truly something as normal as breathing for him.
“taesan.” you call out, and the way his thumb brushes your skin in response sends a jolt down your spine. “do you . . .” you pause, rethinking your wording, before deciding on a far safer option. “are we good?”
“huh?” he tilts his head, wondering if you’re making a joke. when he sees that you’re not, he answers definitively. “of course.”
you let out a shaky breath, unconsciously leaning towards him. so . . . you’re good. taesan doesn’t dislike you. that’s good enough—no, way better news than anything.
“okay.” you nod, and a strike of confidence hits you. emboldened by the newfound knowledge, you inch closer. “i’m all dressed up, but i just found out my date is an asshole. what should i do, taesan?”
“huh?” taesan looks flustered, and you revel in that information now that the smokescreen blocking your vision has disappeared. “you . . . can still go out?” his tone is hesitant and clumsy, but nothing short of endearing.
“right.” you nod. “so go out with me, taesan.”
taesan splutters. “w–what?”
“be my date instead, taesan.”
and for the first time, you know what his answer is going to be.
this was really really cute and much needed 🫡 I also live for taesan fluff omgggg🥲🫶 (also your writing is really good and everything was so well described I literally felt like I was standing there watching lmao)
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! im so happy to hear this bcs stms i struggle w making my writing feel immersive 😞 hearing this makes me feel a lot more assured 🥹 thank you once again!!
summary. there are two things to know about han taesan. one, han taesan is hard to understand, and two, han taesan does not like you. it turns out that neither of these are particularly true.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, college/university!au
word count. 1.3k
warning. brief mention of drinks being spiked (not from MCs)
a/n. in love with the concept of taesan looking so cool but being the most idiotic specimen on earth but even i think he’s questionable here 🧍♀️ nonetheless, i hope you enjoy this as much as i did! reblogs are welcomed with open arms :D
masterlist
taesan has always been a bit of an enigma.
he dresses like your typical emo skater boy, but is obsessed with chococat. he hates being called a cat, but has all kinds of cat-related accessories for his outfits. he looks like he would never be seen within a five-meter radius of any dessert, but always has five packs of pudding in his bag.
but above all, what truly confuses you is how he treats you.
for starters, taesan doesn’t like you.
at the very least, he’s uncomfortable around you.
that’s a well-established fact. has been, ever since you started hanging out with jaehyun and naturally integrated with the rest of his group. taesan has always kept his distance with you, even after you’ve grown close enough with everyone else for them to show up at your door unannounced. whenever it comes to you, he’s always chosen to be at the sidelines, walk a few steps behind, pipe up with minimal responses.
but it’s not like you have anything against him for that. you know it’s impossible for everyone to get along, even if it’s within the same friend group—especially when you joined later than everyone else—and it’s not like taesan has ever said or done anything offensive to you; he just . . . tolerates you.
as easily as your friends welcomed you with open arms, you simply accepted that that’s just how it’ll be between the two of you; floating in parallel orbits without ever reaching each other. and you’re okay with that.
. . . despite your tiny, little crush on him.
you don’t know when it started, but from some moment onwards, you frequently found your eyes drifting towards taesan. on monday, when the lecture is particularly boring; on wednesday, when the lecturer enters ten minutes late; on thursday, when his smile is especially blinding and there are strands of white fur on his black tee.
so, maybe your crush isn’t actually minuscule, and the chances of it being reciprocated are less than zero, but you can live with it. that’s just how taesan is with you.
but that’s also why it’s confusing when taesan does things that are so . . . uncharacteristic.
like when you’re having lunch at the cafeteria, and he casually picks up the banchan on his own tray to replenish yours. or when you let out a whisper that you’re cold, and he’s the first to remove his jacket to drape it over you. or when you once dug through your bag and pockets to find a hair tie before settling with a pen, and from then on you always see him with a hair tie on his wrist.
it’s even more confusing when you stare at him afterwards, equal parts flustered and fluttery, and all he does is look back at you in question, as if asking you “what's up?”, like what he did was nothing out of the ordinary; like it’s something he has no problem doing for you; like it’s something as normal as breathing.
and then, when you’re left to wonder what exactly it means, losing sleep and sanity, taesan would show up the next day, acting as usual—distant, aloof, withdrawn.
as much of a whiplash it is, you can’t say it’s particularly surprising. taesan, in all his enigmatic glory, has always been difficult to understand, to comprehend, to grasp.
but right now, you might be a step closer to figuring him out.
“don’t.” taesan’s hand is around your wrist, grip firm but gentle. he’s huffing a little, hair disheveled. it’s clear he had been running towards you, but you haven’t a single clue why.
“what . . . are you doing?” you look at your wrist, the way his hand engulfs it entirely, and then to his eyes. his pupils are so deep and dark that you’re drawn in immediately, and it’s then that you realise: you and taesan have never looked at each other face-to-face, this close before.
instead of looking away, which is what you expected and what he would have done, he does something completely uncharacteristic, once again.
for the first time, taesan takes a step inside your orbit.
your breath hitches at the proximity, and you almost want to ask if jaehyun is around the corner, filming this as a poor idea of a prank. but it’s taesan who’s in front of you, and he would never agree to anything like that. especially not when he’s looking at you like . . . that.
it’s so intense that you have to look away, find a spot on the gravel to ground yourself. but that doesn’t last long, because you’re immediately pulled back to him when he speaks, just like a force to a satellite.
“don’t have dinner with him,” he says—commands.
under normal circumstances, you might have butterflies. be thrilled, even. because this implies that he had been thinking about you; that what you do does affect him.
but right now, what you feel is something closer to indignation. you’re all dolled up, ready to meet someone new and have some fun, and hopefully rid yourself of your chronic illness of pining. but then the reason for all this comes and demands like you owe him?
before you can chew him out, taesan speaks again, and all the words on the tip of your tongue immediately melt away.
“he’s a terrible person.” he clenches his jaw. “has a reputation for . . . tampering with people’s drinks.” his grip on you tightens. “and i overheard him offering to take someone else out tomorrow.
“so . . .” he softens, his fingers slackened against your skin, “don’t go out with him.”
“i. . . .” you open your mouth but shut it immediately. this was the last thing you expected him to say when he came up to you, so you’re not entirely sure how to reply. you decide to say the most appropriate thing first: “thank you for telling me.
“but . . .” you continue before he adds anything, “why?”
“why?” taesan repeats, reeling back in surprise. “what do you mean?”
“why . . . did you come all the way here?” you tilt your head in question. “your class just ended, didn’t it? that means you ran all the way from campus to my dorm to tell me this. which i’m super grateful for, of course!” you add quickly. “but i’m just . . . confused.” internally, you wonder when you’re ever not confused by him. “a phone call would have sufficed.”
taesan blinks, as if he hadn’t thought about that.
“oh.” he lets out. “that . . . wasn’t on my mind.” he scratches his nape. “i just wanted to see you.”
you freeze, your brain short-circuiting. it takes a while to recover, but even then, taesan is still looking at you like he hadn’t just spewed out your new sleep-deprivation material, like it’s truly something as normal as breathing for him.
“taesan.” you call out, and the way his thumb brushes your skin in response sends a jolt down your spine. “do you . . .” you pause, rethinking your wording, before deciding on a far safer option. “are we good?”
“huh?” he tilts his head, wondering if you’re making a joke. when he sees that you’re not, he answers definitively. “of course.”
you let out a shaky breath, unconsciously leaning towards him. so . . . you’re good. taesan doesn’t dislike you. that’s good enough—no, way better news than anything.
“okay.” you nod, and a strike of confidence hits you. emboldened by the newfound knowledge, you inch closer. “i’m all dressed up, but i just found out my date is an asshole. what should i do, taesan?”
“huh?” taesan looks flustered, and you revel in that information now that the smokescreen blocking your vision has disappeared. “you . . . can still go out?” his tone is hesitant and clumsy, but nothing short of endearing.
“right.” you nod. “so go out with me, taesan.”
taesan splutters. “w–what?”
“be my date instead, taesan.”
and for the first time, you know what his answer is going to be.
summary. there are two things to know about han taesan. one, han taesan is hard to understand, and two, han taesan does not like you. it turns out that neither of these are particularly true.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, college/university!au
word count. 1.3k
warning. brief mention of drinks being spiked (not from MCs)
a/n. in love with the concept of taesan looking so cool but being the most idiotic specimen on earth but even i think he’s questionable here 🧍♀️ nonetheless, i hope you enjoy this as much as i did! reblogs are welcomed with open arms :D
masterlist
taesan has always been a bit of an enigma.
he dresses like your typical emo skater boy, but is obsessed with chococat. he hates being called a cat, but has all kinds of cat-related accessories for his outfits. he looks like he would never be seen within a five-meter radius of any dessert, but always has five packs of pudding in his bag.
but above all, what truly confuses you is how he treats you.
for starters, taesan doesn’t like you.
at the very least, he’s uncomfortable around you.
that’s a well-established fact. has been, ever since you started hanging out with jaehyun and naturally integrated with the rest of his group. taesan has always kept his distance with you, even after you’ve grown close enough with everyone else for them to show up at your door unannounced. whenever it comes to you, he’s always chosen to be at the sidelines, walk a few steps behind, pipe up with minimal responses.
but it’s not like you have anything against him for that. you know it’s impossible for everyone to get along, even if it’s within the same friend group—especially when you joined later than everyone else—and it’s not like taesan has ever said or done anything offensive to you; he just . . . tolerates you.
as easily as your friends welcomed you with open arms, you simply accepted that that’s just how it’ll be between the two of you; floating in parallel orbits without ever reaching each other. and you’re okay with that.
. . . despite your tiny, little crush on him.
you don’t know when it started, but from some moment onwards, you frequently found your eyes drifting towards taesan. on monday, when the lecture is particularly boring; on wednesday, when the lecturer enters ten minutes late; on thursday, when his smile is especially blinding and there are strands of white fur on his black tee.
so, maybe your crush isn’t actually minuscule, and the chances of it being reciprocated are less than zero, but you can live with it. that’s just how taesan is with you.
but that’s also why it’s confusing when taesan does things that are so . . . uncharacteristic.
like when you’re having lunch at the cafeteria, and he casually picks up the banchan on his own tray to replenish yours. or when you let out a whisper that you’re cold, and he’s the first to remove his jacket to drape it over you. or when you once dug through your bag and pockets to find a hair tie before settling with a pen, and from then on you always see him with a hair tie on his wrist.
it’s even more confusing when you stare at him afterwards, equal parts flustered and fluttery, and all he does is look back at you in question, as if asking you “what's up?”, like what he did was nothing out of the ordinary; like it’s something he has no problem doing for you; like it’s something as normal as breathing.
and then, when you’re left to wonder what exactly it means, losing sleep and sanity, taesan would show up the next day, acting as usual—distant, aloof, withdrawn.
as much of a whiplash it is, you can’t say it’s particularly surprising. taesan, in all his enigmatic glory, has always been difficult to understand, to comprehend, to grasp.
but right now, you might be a step closer to figuring him out.
“don’t.” taesan’s hand is around your wrist, grip firm but gentle. he’s huffing a little, hair disheveled. it’s clear he had been running towards you, but you haven’t a single clue why.
“what . . . are you doing?” you look at your wrist, the way his hand engulfs it entirely, and then to his eyes. his pupils are so deep and dark that you’re drawn in immediately, and it’s then that you realise: you and taesan have never looked at each other face-to-face, this close before.
instead of looking away, which is what you expected and what he would have done, he does something completely uncharacteristic, once again.
for the first time, taesan takes a step inside your orbit.
your breath hitches at the proximity, and you almost want to ask if jaehyun is around the corner, filming this as a poor idea of a prank. but it’s taesan who’s in front of you, and he would never agree to anything like that. especially not when he’s looking at you like . . . that.
it’s so intense that you have to look away, find a spot on the gravel to ground yourself. but that doesn’t last long, because you’re immediately pulled back to him when he speaks, just like a force to a satellite.
“don’t have dinner with him,” he says—commands.
under normal circumstances, you might have butterflies. be thrilled, even. because this implies that he had been thinking about you; that what you do does affect him.
but right now, what you feel is something closer to indignation. you’re all dolled up, ready to meet someone new and have some fun, and hopefully rid yourself of your chronic illness of pining. but then the reason for all this comes and demands like you owe him?
before you can chew him out, taesan speaks again, and all the words on the tip of your tongue immediately melt away.
“he’s a terrible person.” he clenches his jaw. “has a reputation for . . . tampering with people’s drinks.” his grip on you tightens. “and i overheard him offering to take someone else out tomorrow.
“so . . .” he softens, his fingers slackened against your skin, “don’t go out with him.”
“i. . . .” you open your mouth but shut it immediately. this was the last thing you expected him to say when he came up to you, so you’re not entirely sure how to reply. you decide to say the most appropriate thing first: “thank you for telling me.
“but . . .” you continue before he adds anything, “why?”
“why?” taesan repeats, reeling back in surprise. “what do you mean?”
“why . . . did you come all the way here?” you tilt your head in question. “your class just ended, didn’t it? that means you ran all the way from campus to my dorm to tell me this. which i’m super grateful for, of course!” you add quickly. “but i’m just . . . confused.” internally, you wonder when you’re ever not confused by him. “a phone call would have sufficed.”
taesan blinks, as if he hadn’t thought about that.
“oh.” he lets out. “that . . . wasn’t on my mind.” he scratches his nape. “i just wanted to see you.”
you freeze, your brain short-circuiting. it takes a while to recover, but even then, taesan is still looking at you like he hadn’t just spewed out your new sleep-deprivation material, like it’s truly something as normal as breathing for him.
“taesan.” you call out, and the way his thumb brushes your skin in response sends a jolt down your spine. “do you . . .” you pause, rethinking your wording, before deciding on a far safer option. “are we good?”
“huh?” he tilts his head, wondering if you’re making a joke. when he sees that you’re not, he answers definitively. “of course.”
you let out a shaky breath, unconsciously leaning towards him. so . . . you’re good. taesan doesn’t dislike you. that’s good enough—no, way better news than anything.
“okay.” you nod, and a strike of confidence hits you. emboldened by the newfound knowledge, you inch closer. “i’m all dressed up, but i just found out my date is an asshole. what should i do, taesan?”
“huh?” taesan looks flustered, and you revel in that information now that the smokescreen blocking your vision has disappeared. “you . . . can still go out?” his tone is hesitant and clumsy, but nothing short of endearing.
“right.” you nod. “so go out with me, taesan.”
taesan splutters. “w–what?”
“be my date instead, taesan.”
and for the first time, you know what his answer is going to be.
summary. there are two things to know about han taesan. one, han taesan is hard to understand, and two, han taesan does not like you. it turns out that neither of these are particularly true.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, college/university!au
word count. 1.3k
warning. brief mention of drinks being spiked (not from MCs)
a/n. in love with the concept of taesan looking so cool but being the most idiotic specimen on earth but even i think he’s questionable here 🧍♀️ nonetheless, i hope you enjoy this as much as i did! reblogs are welcomed with open arms :D
masterlist
taesan has always been a bit of an enigma.
he dresses like your typical emo skater boy, but is obsessed with chococat. he hates being called a cat, but has all kinds of cat-related accessories for his outfits. he looks like he would never be seen within a five-meter radius of any dessert, but always has five packs of pudding in his bag.
but above all, what truly confuses you is how he treats you.
for starters, taesan doesn’t like you.
at the very least, he’s uncomfortable around you.
that’s a well-established fact. has been, ever since you started hanging out with jaehyun and naturally integrated with the rest of his group. taesan has always kept his distance with you, even after you’ve grown close enough with everyone else for them to show up at your door unannounced. whenever it comes to you, he’s always chosen to be at the sidelines, walk a few steps behind, pipe up with minimal responses.
but it’s not like you have anything against him for that. you know it’s impossible for everyone to get along, even if it’s within the same friend group—especially when you joined later than everyone else—and it’s not like taesan has ever said or done anything offensive to you; he just . . . tolerates you.
as easily as your friends welcomed you with open arms, you simply accepted that that’s just how it’ll be between the two of you; floating in parallel orbits without ever reaching each other. and you’re okay with that.
. . . despite your tiny, little crush on him.
you don’t know when it started, but from some moment onwards, you frequently found your eyes drifting towards taesan. on monday, when the lecture is particularly boring; on wednesday, when the lecturer enters ten minutes late; on thursday, when his smile is especially blinding and there are strands of white fur on his black tee.
so, maybe your crush isn’t actually minuscule, and the chances of it being reciprocated are less than zero, but you can live with it. that’s just how taesan is with you.
but that’s also why it’s confusing when taesan does things that are so . . . uncharacteristic.
like when you’re having lunch at the cafeteria, and he casually picks up the banchan on his own tray to replenish yours. or when you let out a whisper that you’re cold, and he’s the first to remove his jacket to drape it over you. or when you once dug through your bag and pockets to find a hair tie before settling with a pen, and from then on you always see him with a hair tie on his wrist.
it’s even more confusing when you stare at him afterwards, equal parts flustered and fluttery, and all he does is look back at you in question, as if asking you “what's up?”, like what he did was nothing out of the ordinary; like it’s something he has no problem doing for you; like it’s something as normal as breathing.
and then, when you’re left to wonder what exactly it means, losing sleep and sanity, taesan would show up the next day, acting as usual—distant, aloof, withdrawn.
as much of a whiplash it is, you can’t say it’s particularly surprising. taesan, in all his enigmatic glory, has always been difficult to understand, to comprehend, to grasp.
but right now, you might be a step closer to figuring him out.
“don’t.” taesan’s hand is around your wrist, grip firm but gentle. he’s huffing a little, hair disheveled. it’s clear he had been running towards you, but you haven’t a single clue why.
“what . . . are you doing?” you look at your wrist, the way his hand engulfs it entirely, and then to his eyes. his pupils are so deep and dark that you’re drawn in immediately, and it’s then that you realise: you and taesan have never looked at each other face-to-face, this close before.
instead of looking away, which is what you expected and what he would have done, he does something completely uncharacteristic, once again.
for the first time, taesan takes a step inside your orbit.
your breath hitches at the proximity, and you almost want to ask if jaehyun is around the corner, filming this as a poor idea of a prank. but it’s taesan who’s in front of you, and he would never agree to anything like that. especially not when he’s looking at you like . . . that.
it’s so intense that you have to look away, find a spot on the gravel to ground yourself. but that doesn’t last long, because you’re immediately pulled back to him when he speaks, just like a force to a satellite.
“don’t have dinner with him,” he says—commands.
under normal circumstances, you might have butterflies. be thrilled, even. because this implies that he had been thinking about you; that what you do does affect him.
but right now, what you feel is something closer to indignation. you’re all dolled up, ready to meet someone new and have some fun, and hopefully rid yourself of your chronic illness of pining. but then the reason for all this comes and demands like you owe him?
before you can chew him out, taesan speaks again, and all the words on the tip of your tongue immediately melt away.
“he’s a terrible person.” he clenches his jaw. “has a reputation for . . . tampering with people’s drinks.” his grip on you tightens. “and i overheard him offering to take someone else out tomorrow.
“so . . .” he softens, his fingers slackened against your skin, “don’t go out with him.”
“i. . . .” you open your mouth but shut it immediately. this was the last thing you expected him to say when he came up to you, so you’re not entirely sure how to reply. you decide to say the most appropriate thing first: “thank you for telling me.
“but . . .” you continue before he adds anything, “why?”
“why?” taesan repeats, reeling back in surprise. “what do you mean?”
“why . . . did you come all the way here?” you tilt your head in question. “your class just ended, didn’t it? that means you ran all the way from campus to my dorm to tell me this. which i’m super grateful for, of course!” you add quickly. “but i’m just . . . confused.” internally, you wonder when you’re ever not confused by him. “a phone call would have sufficed.”
taesan blinks, as if he hadn’t thought about that.
“oh.” he lets out. “that . . . wasn’t on my mind.” he scratches his nape. “i just wanted to see you.”
you freeze, your brain short-circuiting. it takes a while to recover, but even then, taesan is still looking at you like he hadn’t just spewed out your new sleep-deprivation material, like it’s truly something as normal as breathing for him.
“taesan.” you call out, and the way his thumb brushes your skin in response sends a jolt down your spine. “do you . . .” you pause, rethinking your wording, before deciding on a far safer option. “are we good?”
“huh?” he tilts his head, wondering if you’re making a joke. when he sees that you’re not, he answers definitively. “of course.”
you let out a shaky breath, unconsciously leaning towards him. so . . . you’re good. taesan doesn’t dislike you. that’s good enough—no, way better news than anything.
“okay.” you nod, and a strike of confidence hits you. emboldened by the newfound knowledge, you inch closer. “i’m all dressed up, but i just found out my date is an asshole. what should i do, taesan?”
“huh?” taesan looks flustered, and you revel in that information now that the smokescreen blocking your vision has disappeared. “you . . . can still go out?” his tone is hesitant and clumsy, but nothing short of endearing.
“right.” you nod. “so go out with me, taesan.”
taesan splutters. “w–what?”
“be my date instead, taesan.”
and for the first time, you know what his answer is going to be.
a/n. don’t you just love it when ppl discover communication
summary. there are two things to know about han taesan. one, han taesan is hard to understand, and two, han taesan does not like you. it turns out that neither of these are particularly true.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, college/university!au
word count. 1.3k
warnings/notes. brief mention of drinks being spiked (not from MCs) // reader has mid to long hair
from bliss. in love with the concept of taesan looking so cool but being the most idiotic specimen on earth but even i think he’s questionable here 🧍♀️ nonetheless, i hope you enjoy this as much as i did! reblogs are welcomed with open arms :D
masterlist
taesan has always been a bit of an enigma.
he dresses like your typical emo skater boy, but is obsessed with chococat. he hates being called a cat, but has all kinds of cat-related accessories for his outfits. he looks like he would never be seen within a five-meter radius of any dessert, but always has five packs of pudding in his bag.
but above all, what truly confuses you is how he treats you.
for starters, taesan doesn’t like you.
at the very least, he’s uncomfortable around you.
that’s a well-established fact. has been, ever since you started hanging out with jaehyun and naturally integrated with the rest of his group. taesan has always kept his distance with you, even after you’ve grown close enough with everyone else for them to show up at your door unannounced. whenever it comes to you, he’s always chosen to be at the sidelines, walk a few steps behind, pipe up with minimal responses.
but it’s not like you have anything against him for that. you know it’s impossible for everyone to get along, even if it’s within the same friend group—especially when you joined later than everyone else—and it’s not like taesan has ever said or done anything offensive to you; he just . . . tolerates you.
as easily as your friends welcomed you with open arms, you simply accepted that that’s just how it’ll be between the two of you; floating in parallel orbits without ever reaching each other. and you’re okay with that.
. . . despite your tiny, little crush on him.
you don’t know when it started, but from some moment onwards, you frequently found your eyes drifting towards taesan. on monday, when the lecture is particularly boring; on wednesday, when the lecturer enters ten minutes late; on thursday, when his smile is especially blinding and there are strands of white fur on his black tee.
so, maybe your crush isn’t actually minuscule, and the chances of it being reciprocated are less than zero, but you can live with it. that’s just how taesan is with you.
but that’s also why it’s confusing when taesan does things that are so . . . uncharacteristic.
like when you’re having lunch at the cafeteria, and he casually picks up the banchan on his own tray to replenish yours. or when you let out a whisper that you’re cold, and he’s the first to remove his jacket to drape it over you. or when you once dug through your bag and pockets to find a hair tie before settling with a pen, and from then on you always see him with a hair tie on his wrist.
it’s even more confusing when you stare at him afterwards, equal parts flustered and fluttery, and all he does is look back at you in question, as if asking you “what's up?”, like what he did was nothing out of the ordinary; like it’s something he has no problem doing for you; like it’s something as normal as breathing.
and then, when you’re left to wonder what exactly it means, losing sleep and sanity, taesan would show up the next day, acting as usual—distant, aloof, withdrawn.
as much of a whiplash it is, you can’t say it’s particularly surprising. taesan, in all his enigmatic glory, has always been difficult to understand, to comprehend, to grasp.
but right now, you might be a step closer to figuring him out.
“don’t.” taesan’s hand is around your wrist, grip firm but gentle. he’s huffing a little, hair disheveled. it’s clear he had been running towards you, but you haven’t a single clue why.
“what . . . are you doing?” you look at your wrist, the way his hand engulfs it entirely, and then to his eyes. his pupils are so deep and dark that you’re drawn in immediately, and it’s then that you realise: you and taesan have never looked at each other face-to-face, this close before.
instead of looking away, which is what you expected and what he would have done, he does something completely uncharacteristic, once again.
for the first time, taesan takes a step inside your orbit.
your breath hitches at the proximity, and you almost want to ask if jaehyun is around the corner, filming this as a poor idea of a prank. but it’s taesan who’s in front of you, and he would never agree to anything like that. especially not when he’s looking at you like . . . that.
it’s so intense that you have to look away, find a spot on the gravel to ground yourself. but that doesn’t last long, because you’re immediately pulled back to him when he speaks, just like a force to a satellite.
“don’t have dinner with him,” he says—commands.
under normal circumstances, you might have butterflies. be thrilled, even. because this implies that he had been thinking about you; that what you do does affect him.
but right now, what you feel is something closer to indignation. you’re all dolled up, ready to meet someone new and have some fun, and hopefully rid yourself of your chronic illness of pining. but then the reason for all this comes and demands like you owe him?
before you can chew him out, taesan speaks again, and all the words on the tip of your tongue immediately melt away.
“he’s a terrible person.” he clenches his jaw. “has a reputation for . . . tampering with people’s drinks.” his grip on you tightens. “and i overheard him offering to take someone else out tomorrow.
“so . . .” he softens, his fingers slackened against your skin, “don’t go out with him.”
“i. . . .” you open your mouth but shut it immediately. this was the last thing you expected him to say when he came up to you, so you’re not entirely sure how to reply. you decide to say the most appropriate thing first: “thank you for telling me.
“but . . .” you continue before he adds anything, “why?”
“why?” taesan repeats, reeling back in surprise. “what do you mean?”
“why . . . did you come all the way here?” you tilt your head in question. “your class just ended, didn’t it? that means you ran all the way from campus to my dorm to tell me this. which i’m super grateful for, of course!” you add quickly. “but i’m just . . . confused.” internally, you wonder when you’re ever not confused by him. “a phone call would have sufficed.”
taesan blinks, as if he hadn’t thought about that.
“oh.” he lets out. “that . . . wasn’t on my mind.” he scratches his nape. “i just wanted to see you.”
you freeze, your brain short-circuiting. it takes a while to recover, but even then, taesan is still looking at you like he hadn’t just spewed out your new sleep-deprivation material, like it’s truly something as normal as breathing for him.
“taesan.” you call out, and the way his thumb brushes your skin in response sends a jolt down your spine. “do you . . .” you pause, rethinking your wording, before deciding on a far safer option. “are we good?”
“huh?” he tilts his head, wondering if you’re making a joke. when he sees that you’re not, he answers definitively. “of course.”
you let out a shaky breath, unconsciously leaning towards him. so . . . you’re good. taesan doesn’t dislike you. that’s good enough—no, way better news than anything.
“okay.” you nod, and a strike of confidence hits you. emboldened by the newfound knowledge, you inch closer. “i’m all dressed up, but i just found out my date is an asshole. what should i do, taesan?”
“huh?” taesan looks flustered, and you revel in that information now that the smokescreen blocking your vision has disappeared. “you . . . can still go out?” his tone is hesitant and clumsy, but nothing short of endearing.
“right.” you nod. “so go out with me, taesan.”
taesan splutters. “w–what?”
“be my date instead, taesan.”
and for the first time, you know what his answer is going to be.
summary. after a long day, all you really want is to be in taesan’s arms.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, established relationship
word count. 0.9k
warnings. n/a
a/n. fun fact: this wasn’t the original taesan fic i wanted to post for his bday bcs stms it’s easier to write sth in 3 hrs than finish a draft you’ve had for the past 5 months 👩🦯 but as always, please enjoy this, and i hope everyone gets to have their own taesan in their lives :)
masterlist
you and taesan have never been overly touchy with each other. it’s not that you both dislike physical touch; you just tend to express your feelings more often through quiet moments spent together.
today, however, you need taesan more than ever.
you trudge inside your shared apartment, your body feeling unbearably heavy. taesan is sitting on the sofa with headphones and his ipad propped up on his knees, a contemplative look on his face. it’s a familiar sight, one that occurs whenever a new idea for a composition strikes in his head and he has to record it down immediately, so you usually leave him alone to not disrupt his creative process.
seeing this, you force yourself to stand by the door, hoping for at least a greeting before you can retreat inside your room—if your boyfriend was busy, you’d rather break down without him seeing.
almost immediately, taesan looks up and smiles, the kind where his eyes are squeezed into crescents and whiskers appear under them. but when he finally sees you, he instantly plants his feet on the floor, setting his ipad aside and ripping off his headphones.
“y/n?” his voice is soft and gentle. he always treats you like a delicate flower; it makes you feel like you can fall apart in his presence and he’ll be there to pick up your pieces.
“y/n,” he calls again, and he’s about to get up before you briskly walk towards him and all but jump on him.
with your knees on either side of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and drop your head on his shoulder. noticeably, taesan tenses at the uncharted touch, and a moment of hesitation lingers. but his arms quickly shoot up to envelop you, hands resting firmly on either side of your torso as he holds you tightly against himself.
he remains silent, letting you take in his warmth as he gently caresses your back. you nuzzle against his neck, wanting to get as close to him as you can. despite his surprise at your touch, he doesn’t make it known and mirrors your actions, nosing your collarbone as he pulls you even closer.
you thought you would break into tears immediately in his arms, but the more you lean into his touch, the more you feel your weariness dissipate, until the huge lump in your throat eventually melts as well.
sensing your breathing calm down and your body turning lax against his, he places a kiss on your neck and whispers against your skin: “i’m here.” it’s a simple declaration; two words that neither push you to speak nor stop you from sharing, but just to remind you that, whatever it is, he’s always by your side.
“i… had a bad day today,” you begin, and taesan’s hold on you never once falters. as you tell him about what happened, his fingers continuously draw idle circles on your back, and he hums softly to reassure you that he’s listening.
“how do you feel now?” taesan, gentle as ever, asks after you stop talking.
“...a lot better,” you confess and nuzzle against his neck again, landing a peck there to emphasize your point.
“i’m glad.” the smile is evident from his voice alone, even if you can’t see his face.
a few more moments of silence pass between you, the two of you simply relishing each other’s company. it’s only when you catch taesan’s ipad light up with a notification from your peripheral vision that you remember what he had been doing before your almost-break-down.
you pull yourself away, but your hands remain on his shoulders, as do his on your waist. “you were composing something before this, right?” your eyebrows are knitted in guilt, lips jutting out similarly. “sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt you… you can continue now.”
“no, don’t apologise,” taesan replies immediately, shaking his head. he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ears and smiles, fondness seeping from every pore, “i’ll always put you before anything else.”
it’s strange how the emotions you initially expected to spill over from your negative experiences today are now threatening to escape from these seven words instead. with the lump returning to your throat once again, you don’t trust your voice to speak.
instead, you move your hands to cup his face and lean down to place your lips on his, letting your body do the talking instead.
with every movement, your feelings translate from your heart to his. his grip on your waist tightens as he cranes his neck to capture more and more of these feelings, until both of you are rendered breathless from all the emotions filling your bodies, squeezing around your ribs, your lungs, and your hearts.
when you pull away, the dazed look on taesan is something that you want to carve into your mind forever. for someone who’s never uncomposed, the fact that he’s been rendered like this, and because of you, makes your insides twist with something far greater than you can explain.
pairing. kim leehan x reader
genre. best friends to lovers (?), fluff, a sprinkle of angst, mutual pining
word count. 1.8k
warnings. reader is drunk and attempts to kiss leehan in this state (+ reader is shorter than leehan and wears makeup)
masterlist
all it takes is one call from you, calling out his name with a voice that’s poutier than normal, before leehan’s striding out the door with his car keys in his hands.
when he sees you, you’re leaning against an electric pole, hugging it like it’s your lifeline. your other friends are around you, trying to pry you off, but you only push them away. from where he parks, he vaguely catches his name falling from your lips before he marches towards you and calls out your name himself.
you look up, eyes widened like saucers. instantly, as if you’re electrocuted, you pull away from the pole and glare at it, reprimanding. “you’re not leehan.”
the group around you bursts into laughter, and leehan can’t help the small chuckle that escapes him either. when he walks closer to you, you immediately cling onto him the same way you did to the pole, your cheek squished against his chest.
“my leehan is here,” you mumble.
he would have melted—no, dissolved—if not for the fact that he’s wholly supporting your weight and that all your friends are eyeing the two of you giddily. hence, his legs are forced to hold up straight, even though his heart is nothing but putty in your hands. he translates this through his expression instead, softening as he looks down at you and gently pats your head.
after thanking your friends for taking care of you, he walks off with you in tow. with one hand placed securely on the small of your back, he opens the car door with the other and attempts to seat you in the passenger’s seat. it takes a bit, because you’re reluctant to leave your hold on him, but he eventually gets you inside the car.
still leaning over, he easily fastens your seatbelt with a click. when he tries to pull away, however, you immediately snake your arms around his neck, holding him in place. it’s so sudden that he drops his hand onto your thigh for balance, but he quickly moves it before the touch can linger.
you’re staring at him, eyelashes fluttering. unlike your previous demeanour, your eyes seem to have more clarity in them now. you’re looking at him as if you’re searching for something beyond, while he’s looking at you as if he’s searching for a way out.
it’s too much. the blasting music down the street, the whirs of engines on the road, the mix of breaths between you, the ghost of your fingers on his nape, the weight of your eyes on him, the beat of his heart against his chest.
he feels too much, and yet, he can’t take his eyes off you.
slowly, you drag one hand from his nape, your fingers brushing past his ears and sending shivers down his spine, until it settles on his jaw. you cradle it gently, your thumb caressing his cheek. then, for a sliver of a moment, you drop your gaze.
it’s just a split second, but he catches it all the same. without realising, he finds himself flickering his eyes as well, and it’s all the indication you need to pull him closer.
that’s when leehan smiles, and then removes your arms around him easily. “get some rest. i’ll wake you up when we arrive.” he pats your head before shutting the car door.
when he climbs in the car from the opposite side, you’re facing the front and blinking blankly as if you’ve been slapped. he resists the urge to hold your hand like he always does on car rides, and forces his eyes to the front before driving off.
you do end up falling asleep, and when he gets you out of the car, he has to hoist you up against him snugly because you’re leaning your entire weight on him again. he doesn't mind, never when it comes to you, so he keeps his arm around your waist the entire time he’s bringing you up to your apartment. even when he reaches your door and has to fish out the spare key you gave him from his bag, he makes sure his hold on you is secure and that you’re resting your head on him.
when he unlocks the door, it seems to have briefly snapped you out of your delirium, because you’re removing yourself from him and staggering towards the sofa, much to his concern. he swiftly moves next to you, guiding you to the soft cushions and gently laying you down.
you immediately shut your eyes, quick to fall asleep again. at this, leehan sighs as he brushes the hair away from your face. “don’t wanna wash up first?” he asks softly. when you scrunch your nose in displeasure, he lets out a small smile. “not even your makeup?” he prods, and you respond with a quiet groan before you fall silent again.
his smile increases and he nods. “okay. just rest.”
truth be told, the alcohol in your system has already started to dissipate bit by bit, so even if you wanted to sleep—and never wake up again after what happened in the car—you couldn’t help but register all the stimuli around you, effectively reconnecting your consciousness to the world. this includes the ruffles of leehan’s clothes as he stands up and the fading of his footsteps as he opens the door to a room, prompting a series of noises from within, before the footsteps are fading back in until they cease right next to you.
the shuffles are heard again as he sits down, then the light sound of bottles hitting the floor. you furrow your eyebrows, finally opening your eyes just in time to see leehan place a soaked cotton pad on your face.
leehan immediately smiles when he meets your gaze, and he wordlessly prompts you to close your eyes so he can place two cotton pads on them. you do so without a fight, though your insides are practically fighting.
“let me know if i’m too rough,” he says, then begins swiping a cotton pad across your skin. he lets the ones on your eyes sit for just a little longer before he gently wipes off your eye makeup. “i’m sorry,” he lets out meekly when he has to apply more pressure on a stubborn area.
you remain silent the entire time, but you open your eyes again when you feel a warm towel on your face. he meets your eyes and smiles, as softly as how he’s dabbing the towel on your skin, wiping away the residue of your makeup remover. he does this a few times; washing the towel in the bowl of water and squeezing out the excess; and you keep your eyes on him all the while.
when he thinks he’s successfully cleaned your makeup, he adjusts his position, ready to stand up, but your voice immediately halts him.
“leehan,” you call, quiet and almost vulnerable.
he places your skincare back on the floor and faces you completely. “yeah?” he responds, round eyes staring at you softly… and fondly.
“you just took off my makeup,” you state matter-of-factly, ignoring your astute observation which has only added to the whirlwind inside you.
leehan blinks, then nods. “did i do it wrong?” he asks. “but i did it like this last time too… and the youtube videos….” he trails off, talking more to himself than anything.
“leehan,” you begin, your eyebrows furrowing. “do you do this for your other friends?”
he looks almost scandalized at your question. “no?” he lets out in incredulity. “you know i only do this for you.”
recollections of all the times you had been drunk and all the times he had taken care of you without any complaints, including taking off your makeup, flash across your head.
you suck in a sharp breath, looking him in the eyes directly. “then why?”
leehan tilts his head. “what do you mean?”
you avert your gaze, suddenly feeling too seen by him. silence encompasses you for a while and he allows it, waiting for you but not urging you—it’s little things like this that made you realise you never stood a chance against the line that threatens to be crossed in your friendship.
you hope he feels the same when you ask, “why did you reject me?”
the air feels heavy when you drop the question, and the silence that follows is even more so. you don’t dare to look at him, especially after the prolonged hesitance from him. still, you wait, even though you’re already close to withering inside. but when he finally speaks, the last bit of hope you’ve futilely held onto escapes like a droplet of water from a broken pipe.
“you’re drunk,” he says, but he instantly realises the gravity of his words when he sees the way you falter, the way he can hear a crack from you—and he feels himself shatter as well.
“no, y/n, i didn’t mean it like that,” he coaxes, getting up on his knees and placing a hand on your arm when you turn away from him.
“what other meaning is there?”
he pats your arm, prompting you to turn around. “look at me, y/n, please,” his tone is so sincere that you waver, glancing back at him.
“i said you’re drunk not because i’m trying to dismiss what you said,” he says firmly, needing to be as clear as possible. “but because it’s just not right for me to accept any gesture like that in your state,” he starts, then adds softly; hesitantly, “as much as i wanted to.”
the tears prickling at your eyes had been so close to falling until you caught what he said at the end. suddenly, your tears are gone and all you’re left with is confusion.
“hold on,” you turn to face him fully, momentarily surprised by the lack of proximity between you before you focus again. “did i hear that correctly?”
leehan’s ears turn an evident cerise, but he doesn’t move his eyes that are blinking up at you roundly. “i don’t want to talk about this when you’re drunk,” he laments, almost petulantly.
“i’m not drunk,” you refute firmly, and while you know it’s not entirely false, you also know your best friend wouldn’t fall for it.
“i’d rather spill my heart out when you’re not seconds away from passing out.” he attempts a joke, one corner of his lips quirking weakly, even though he feels like his heart is actually about to spill out his chest with the way it’s rattling his rib cage in anxiety.
you don’t have the energy to entertain him, so you remain tight-lipped as you stare at him.
leehan breathes out, deflating as he opens his mouth again. “instead,” he says, all traces of playfulness gone. “please… remember this moment.” he looks at you through his lashes, suddenly seeming so small, and his tone is too solemn, too desperate. “i’m not sure if i can handle another seven years.”
a/n. i just wanted to write abt leehan taking off ur makeup when ure drunk idk why it turned into a word vomit 😭 but i hope it was enjoyable to read!
summary. after a long day, all you really want is to be in taesan’s arms.
pairing. han taesan x reader
genre. fluff, established relationship
word count. 0.9k
warnings. n/a
a/n. fun fact: this wasn’t the original taesan fic i wanted to post for his bday bcs stms it’s easier to write sth in 3 hrs than finish a draft you’ve had for the past 5 months 👩🦯 but as always, please enjoy this, and i hope everyone gets to have their own taesan in their lives :)
masterlist
you and taesan have never been overly touchy with each other. it’s not that you both dislike physical touch; you just tend to express your feelings more often through quiet moments spent together.
today, however, you need taesan more than ever.
you trudge inside your shared apartment, your body feeling unbearably heavy. taesan is sitting on the sofa with headphones and his ipad propped up on his knees, a contemplative look on his face. it’s a familiar sight, one that occurs whenever a new idea for a composition strikes in his head and he has to record it down immediately, so you usually leave him alone to not disrupt his creative process.
seeing this, you force yourself to stand by the door, hoping for at least a greeting before you can retreat inside your room—if your boyfriend was busy, you’d rather break down without him seeing.
almost immediately, taesan looks up and smiles, the kind where his eyes are squeezed into crescents and whiskers appear under them. but when he finally sees you, he instantly plants his feet on the floor, setting his ipad aside and ripping off his headphones.
“y/n?” his voice is soft and gentle. he always treats you like a delicate flower; it makes you feel like you can fall apart in his presence and he’ll be there to pick up your pieces.
“y/n,” he calls again, and he’s about to get up before you briskly walk towards him and all but jump on him.
with your knees on either side of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and drop your head on his shoulder. noticeably, taesan tenses at the uncharted touch, and a moment of hesitation lingers. but his arms quickly shoot up to envelop you, hands resting firmly on either side of your torso as he holds you tightly against himself.
he remains silent, letting you take in his warmth as he gently caresses your back. you nuzzle against his neck, wanting to get as close to him as you can. despite his surprise at your touch, he doesn’t make it known and mirrors your actions, nosing your collarbone as he pulls you even closer.
you thought you would break into tears immediately in his arms, but the more you lean into his touch, the more you feel your weariness dissipate, until the huge lump in your throat eventually melts as well.
sensing your breathing calm down and your body turning lax against his, he places a kiss on your neck and whispers against your skin: “i’m here.” it’s a simple declaration; two words that neither push you to speak nor stop you from sharing, but just to remind you that, whatever it is, he’s always by your side.
“i… had a bad day today,” you begin, and taesan’s hold on you never once falters. as you tell him about what happened, his fingers continuously draw idle circles on your back, and he hums softly to reassure you that he’s listening.
“how do you feel now?” taesan, gentle as ever, asks after you stop talking.
“...a lot better,” you confess and nuzzle against his neck again, landing a peck there to emphasize your point.
“i’m glad.” the smile is evident from his voice alone, even if you can’t see his face.
a few more moments of silence pass between you, the two of you simply relishing each other’s company. it’s only when you catch taesan’s ipad light up with a notification from your peripheral vision that you remember what he had been doing before your almost-break-down.
you pull yourself away, but your hands remain on his shoulders, as do his on your waist. “you were composing something before this, right?” your eyebrows are knitted in guilt, lips jutting out similarly. “sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt you… you can continue now.”
“no, don’t apologise,” taesan replies immediately, shaking his head. he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ears and smiles, fondness seeping from every pore, “i’ll always put you before anything else.”
it’s strange how the emotions you initially expected to spill over from your negative experiences today are now threatening to escape from these seven words instead. with the lump returning to your throat once again, you don’t trust your voice to speak.
instead, you move your hands to cup his face and lean down to place your lips on his, letting your body do the talking instead.
with every movement, your feelings translate from your heart to his. his grip on your waist tightens as he cranes his neck to capture more and more of these feelings, until both of you are rendered breathless from all the emotions filling your bodies, squeezing around your ribs, your lungs, and your hearts.
when you pull away, the dazed look on taesan is something that you want to carve into your mind forever. for someone who’s never uncomposed, the fact that he’s been rendered like this, and because of you, makes your insides twist with something far greater than you can explain.
