#Pi han wool x reader

[xoxolaw]

+ PI HAN WOOL

+ MASTERLIST

COMING SOON

AUTHOR'S NOTE

to join the taglist for all the new Pi Han Wool fanfics, drop a '👊' in the comments ^-^

[mingoooossii]

Can you do both headcanons for park yoon ho and pi hyun wool? Thank you so much!

P. Han Ul and L. Hyeon Woo headcanons.

Kdrama: Study group

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, minor webtoon spoilers??(not that serious actually), might be a bit ooc

A/n: I'm not a fan of han ul AT all but woomin did it so well 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ I feel like a bit of kyungjun also came in??(Somehow)and Hyeon woo's character was kind of hard to grasp but i hope this is what you've been looking for anonie<33

Words: 692

Requested ♡

geon yeop ver. gamin ver.

｡⁠*ﾟPi Han Ul.

• he wasn't really the one for relationships until he met you

• it isn't really logical considering his situation but he couldn't help it

• you managed to worm your way into his heart despite all the walls he put up

• at that point, i think he'd trust you enough to let that happen

• you're the only person he genuinely has a soft spot for, aside from his sister

• this also means that he'd be protective

• his sister would be fond of you and that just makes him instantly more inclined to ‘protect’ you

• he just wants to make sure that you'd be safe even if that means keeping you as a secret from his dad (and Minhwan but 🤷‍♀️)

• not really the affectionate type

• and because of his situation, he can be kind of closed of at times

• like don't expect him to be that open about his feelings

• he's just not used to it :( (this doesn't mean he loves you any less though)

• you'd be the one initiating physical contact most of the time but he does have his moments

• he likes laying his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair

• it helps him calm down and helps him go to sleep whenever he's having trouble

• i can also imagine him having a teasing side??

• he'd be very subtle with it though (a menace actually)

• but you'll know once you see his slight smirk

• kind of a jealous type but he wouldn't show it

• 100% the type to send silent death glares when he's annoyed

• but I can also see him being a bit cocky??

• not exactly in a ‘I’m better than you’ way but more like a ‘are you kidding me’ kind of way (hope that made sense 😭)

• so expect a snide comment or two

• but if he sees that you're uncomfortable with the other person, he will be taking action

• he’s definitely not the type to let things slide

｡⁠*ﾟLee Hyeon Woo.

• it takes him a while to accept that he had feelings for you

• once he does he'll be more open about it

• loves teasing you (that's his love lang basically)

• but he makes sure to not take it too far (actually hurting you is the last thing he wants to do)

• he's protective too.

• because him teasing you is one thing but when someone else does it??

• now that pisses him off.

• would not hesitate to throw hands if someone made you uncomfortable in anyway

• he's the jealous type but not overbearingly so (kind of)

• 100 % the type to judge (he wouldn't hide it AT ALL 😭)

• he does NOT gaf (his expression will say it all)

• but he wouldn't act immediately

• you were more patient than him with stuff like this so he knows that you could probably handle it

• but if it gets out of hand just give him a sign and he'll take care of the rest (🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️)

•he can be affectionate at times but he has to be in the mood for it

• so like expect random back hugs from him throughout the day

• especially if he's down

• he wouldn't say anything but just comes over to you and wraps his arms around you

• so please give him all the hugs you can!!

• headcanoning that he's actually a softie in disguise

• he's been through so much, so he doesn't really open up that easily

• but if he's really comfortable with you, i think he'd start to show his vulnerable side more

• however, this does NOT mean that he's a pushover in any way (he just trusts you that much)

• you were close with Ji woo (and Heewon too since you were in the same class)

• he doesn't really show it but it actually means so much to him (since you two were the two most important people in his life)

gen taglist: @mayflyfr

[tttabii]

FLIRTY HAIRDRESSER

cha woo-min x reader

note; just imagine if he had tattoos and he's your hairdresser.

YOU WEREN'T ACTUALLY planning to change your look today—just a spontaneous urge on a slow afternoon. Your reflection started to become boring: the same old faded dye, the same split ends. So you stepped into the newly opened salon that everyone has been raving about and imagined you would somehow spark spontaneity.

The bell chimed as you walked in, and you were greeted with a citrus shampoo and lavender scent. Some stylists pointed their attention to you and smiled appreciatively. However, your gaze really fell on the man standing before the styling chairs.

Cha Woo-min.

He was tall, sleeves rolled just enough to expose minimal tattoos on his forearms. Rings decorated his fingers—stylistic and silver, nether too glam, but again... definitely noticed. His hair looked effortlessly tousled, as though he had a stylish awakening. He looked like he could walk off the pages of a fashion magazine, not out from behind a salon chair.

"First time here?" he asked, voice silky as he casually motioned you to take a seat. His tone was lighthearted and friendly, but his eyes remained longer on you than necessary.

You nodded. "I just felt like trying something new."

"Come on, I'll take care of you," he said, pointing to one of the chairs. You settled into it as he tossed the cape on you and clipped it into place with his expert ease.

His name tag on his apron said Woo-min, and he pointed to it, grinning and dancing with his eyes. "I'm Woo-min, by the way. Your hair is in safe hands."

When he said it, you believed it. "What were you thinking?" he asked, fingers beginning to comb your hair gently, working his way through the texture, the length, and any damage you were trying to not be embarrassed about. "Trim? Change the shape? Color?"

"Something different," you said. "I'm bored of this color. I want something... completely new and compliments my skin tone."

He nodded, ponderous, already pulling out swatches and palettes. "I think you would look great with something that's a little softer. Maybe a warm ash brown or a muted honey beige. Let me show you some options," he said. You watched how his brows furrowed in concentration, like your hair was a canvas and he was already painting it in his mind. 

And god—his hands. Strong, ringed fingers that strolled past your neck every now and again as he sectioned your hair, always in a featherlight touch, but enough to give goosebumps down your arms. You did your best not to fidget under his gaze, under the warmth of his attention.

When he began cutting, it was all soft snips and chit chat—he asked where you were from, if you had dyed your hair a lot before, what made you want to walk in today. But then he showed you to the washing station, and that was when you were elevated.

The water was just the right temperature, his fingers masterfully kneading your scalp as though he had memorized where the pressure points of your head were.

You didn't realize when your eyes closed, but you felt your entire self become liquid in the chair. Your fingers dug where they gripped the sides as his thumbs moved behind your ears and up toward your temples.

The head massage he gave was life-changing.

You wanted to cry.

Or propose.

Or maybe both.

"You alright?" he murmured, and his voice floated over, right next to your ear. You could only nod your head, unsure if your voice would come out coherent.

As he towel-dried your hair, his fingers brushed your nape again—intentionally? Probably not. But something about his action paused, as if he noticed the hitch in your breath, as if he wanted to.

"I'll dry it, put it up and style it, so you can see what it'll look like," he offered after a brief pause. He began walking you back to your original chair and moved with that same casual self-assuredness, but there was something in his eye that hadn't been there when you first walked in.

You settled back into the chair in front of the mirror, watching his reflection—this stranger, this charming, tattooed stranger, this one with silver rings on his fingers, named Woo-min, who already had his hands just a bit too familiar with your hair, and maybe with your heart too.

As Woo-min blended the dye, you observed him in the mirror—engaged, careful, a few strands of his own hair escaping from beneath his beanie once again. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a fresh set of tattoos down his forearm.

Something floral, maybe?

You were unable to concentrate on the specifics when he looked like that. He returned to your chair with the bowl and brush in hand, balancing it awkwardly as he smiled at you with a crooked smile. "Ready?"

You nodded and he carefully wrapped a towel around your shoulders, tucking it in. "This will take a little while, so I hope you don't mind me chatting with you for a bit."

"I don't mind at all," you replied maybe with too much enthusiasm. He began at the back of your scalp, dividing your hair and lightly adding the cool dye.

"Oh by the way," he continued, nonchalantly, "I really like your earrings, and your necklace- so good because it fits with everything else, it's stylish without being too much," he finished.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Oh... thanks."

He smirked. "And by the way, love the outfit, you're pulling it off."

You could feel your cheeks heat up in response to his words  and particularly when he had to lean a little more closer to reach a different section of your hair. But his tone shifted, now teasing in nature and lowered a little more. "But this hair though..."

"You mean...?" you prompted, a little bit skeptically.

"It's kinda crying for help," he laughed, stroking the dye in gingerly. "Intense—not in a bad way, your hair is beautiful. But it is dry as fuck."

You gasped a little. "What!?"

"I'm just being honest!" he laughed. "Don't worry, I'm going to take care of it. I'll put some toner and some protein treatment in. And it won't damage it anymore than it already is. Promise."

"You better," you puffed, crossing your arms—which was useless because you were literally wrapped in a cape like a burrito. "I trust you with my life here."

He laughed. "Your life, huh? No pressure. I'll be try my best not to mess it up."

The other stylists were busy, attending to their own clients while Woo-min stayed with you the whole time, checking the color all while chatting in between. He told you about how he got into hair, how he didn't like school but enjoyed the feeling of making people feel better about themselves. How he worked at a few other shops before helping his friend open this place. 

You shared a little too much—enough to feel like this didn't have to be merely small talk. There was something else there, something that hung in the air for just a beat more than he needed to look at you.

Eventually, it was time for the dye to set. He did wash it out like he said with conditioning and treatments. He rinsed your hair treating it like spun silk. Then he dried and styled your hair, using a diffuser and his hands, fluffing your hair to create shapes and develop the soft waves as if sculpting them. When it was time for the reveal. He spun you around in the chair, turned you  to the mirror.

You were blinking. You, actually blinked. "Whoa..."

"Yeah?" he asked, now watching your reaction intently.

"I look...different", you said, "but in a good way."

"You look hot", he said nonchalantly while correcting you, and you almost choked. He brushed a few strands from your cheek, and your eyes met again in the mirror.

There it was—that look again. That pause. That little something that said, this could be more than a one-time hair appointment.

He stepped away to grab the mirror for the back view, and when he returned, he held a business card between two fingers. "Here. Just in case you wanna come back—for a treatment or touch-up."

You took it. It was sleek, black and white, with the salon's name on the front.

But when you turned it over...

Woo-min.

personal line: xxx-xxx-xxxx

(text me if you're bored. or if your hair gets dry again.)

Your lips twitched.

"Slipping your number to all your clients?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He winked. "Only the ones with cute earrings and terrible haircare routines."

You kept it cool. You tried.

But then you flipped over the card, saw the neat handwriting, noted the "text me if you're bored" comment, and realized it was his personal number—then the heat rushed to your cheeks, just like that.

Your fingers clenched around the card, doing your best to ignore the smug little look he left on his face as he leaned against the counter. You paid for the treatment, still slightly dazed from the combination of the best head massage of your life, a full hair transformation, and a flirtatious stylist who may or may not have been undressing you with his eyes at some point (in the most tasteful way possible, of course).

As you thanked the receptionist, one of the other stylists walked a client out—nodded politely, let them leave. That was it. No big send-off, no special attention.

But then you turned toward the door, card still tucked into your hand, and—

 

He was already there.

Woo-min stood, one hand on the glass, lazily shoving it open for you with a measured sort of confidence, the other hand tucked in the pocket of his black apron. The wind shaped his bangs on the ends, and the sun caught just the right amount of ink on his forearm so that it was a little distracting.

"You sure you like it?" he said, his chin slightly tilted.

You nodded quickly and pulled some hair behind your ear. "Yeah... I really do. Thank you."

He watched you for a second—the way you were sucking on the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too much.

"Good," he said. "I usually don't open the door for people, by the way."

You blinked. "You don't?"

He shook his head and there was a playful smile on his lips. "I guess you're special."

You completely lost it with quick blush and muttered a flustered "Bye" and stepped into the cool air, the glass door softly thumping behind you as you walked out. As you walked away, you couldn't resist looking at the card again, your heart racing wildly at the thought.

Text him if you're  bored? 

You were already composing something in your head.

Should you wait an hour? A day? Was five minutes too desperate?

...yeah, okay, maybe ten minutes.

────୨ৎ────

Your limit was nine minutes and forty-three seconds.

That was as long as you could take. You found yourself perched on your bed, stylized hair freshly tucked over your shoulder, eyeing the card like it was about to disappear from the floor. You tapped on messages for two seconds, and then, typed the following message.

you : are you seriously diss on my hair that hard and then flirt with me? bold move.

Sent.

Then you tossed your phone to the side onto the bed like it was a bomb ready to explode. Except within the limit of a minute, it dinged back.

Unknown Number: already miss me?

Your stomach dropped. Then it did a backflip. And then, it combusted. You snatched your phone like it had a secret for you and read the message as your eyes widen. You weren't sure if it was the sheer audacity or the smirk you could hear through the screen, but you were already typing.

you: you wish. but i really do look hot now. so thanks, hair god.

An immediate response.

woo-min 🖤: hair god? now you're trying to turn me on. you're welcome tho. you really do look hot. I should have gotten a picture for my portfolio.

You blinked. How was he somehow both sweet and also so much? It didn't feel sleazy at all. Just cheeky. Like he was letting you in on a joke the rest of the world didn't understand.

You bit your lip.

you: you could've just asked to take one.. or is that your excuse to see me again?

There was a pause.

woo-min 🖤: maybe i don't need an excuse. but if you want to come back next week, i'll "check on the color." or whatever. bring that necklace again. it looked good on you. so did the way you blushed.

You threw your phone face down again. And then immediately picked it back up because this guy was dangerous. In the most infuriatingly charming way. And somehow? You already knew that you'd be back at that salon next week.

A week later. You had been nonstop texting.

Every day. Every night. Random memes. Pictures of his and your cat. A close up of his hand with his rings on display, holding a coffee cup (which he definitely sent on purpose).

A mirror selfie you took after you re-styled your hair with his reply.

woo-min 🖤: stop. I'm already down bad. this is bullying.

And here you were—walking down the street toward the salon expecting a quick hello or intermediary touch up. And instead—

You saw him.

Sitting outside the salon.

No apron, no scissors, just Woo-min, a fresh black coat over a graphic tee, rings still on, hair perfectly done, a coffee in his hand—and sunglasses pushed up on his head like he just walked out of a damn music video.

You slowed your walk. He looked up at you and smiled. Stood. "Took you long enough."

You blinked. "Wait. You're... not working today?"

He shrugged and walked over to you like it was so obvious. "I'm off."

You squinted at him. "Then... why am I here?"

He smirked. "You said you wanted to get your color checked, right?" His fingers brushed against your hair gently, mock inspecting. "Yep. Still hot. Let's go."

You blinked again. "Wait—wait, is this a—?"

"A date?" He grinned, casually linking his hand with yours as though it were the most thrilling thing in the world. "Yeah. You didn't think I would keep flirting with you just over text, did you?"

You stared at him, stunned and a little woozy. "...You're ridiculous."

"Yeah. But you like it." He pulled you toward the little café next door where a tiny table already had two drinks and a half-eaten pastry on it (you were late, sue him).

At some point between the croissants, the little laughs you shared, and him leaning over to wipe a crumb off your lip a little too casually — he pulled out his phone.

"Okay," he said, tapping on the camera app. "I never got a picture of your new hair."

You blinked. "Wait—you wanna take it now?"

"Mhm." He leaned in next to you, tossing his arm around the back of your chair, trying to angle the camera. "But I want one with both of us in it. So you remember who made you look this good."

You tried to roll your eyes—but the camera clicked mid-laugh, catching the exact moment you turned your head toward him in fake-annoyance while he was already grinning at you.

It wasn't just a hair pic.

It was you two.

And somehow it already looked like it belonged in a frame.

[freakmcnastyy]

Feathery

Pi Han Wool x f!reader

Summary: The most dangerous boy at school develops an interest in a girl who’s his complete opposite and invites her to the prom.

Note: I don’t even know how this idea came to me, I was thinking about Lumière and Plumette. AND GOD I’ve been gone for so long I’m so sorry 😭 It’s insanely hot right now and I swear I’m too tired to even breathe.

This whole thing weirdly feels like “Golden Brown”

⸻

The bell had just rung, but the campus was quieter than usual. At Yusung Technical High, silence meant one of two things:

Either the inspectors were on campus…

Or Pi Han Wool was walking the halls.

Today, it was the second one.

This guy didn’t even carry his bag over his shoulder. He didn’t need to—who was gonna say anything? He was the shadow of the whole damn school. Hands in his pockets, strolling like he owned the place. When he passed a classroom, some students didn’t even dare look out. If you locked eyes with him, it felt like you’d just made the worst mistake of your life.

But that’s when he saw you.

You were pinning notes to the bulletin board in front of your class. You had a handful of colorful post-its—blue, orange—and one was just slightly crooked, and you looked ready to fight it into place.

You were in uniform, but… some people just wear it differently, you know? Your skirt hit just at your knees, your shirt was ironed, collar slightly open. Your hair was tied up but two strands insisted on falling into your face.

Something shifted inside Han Wool.

First thought: “Who is this girl?”

Second: “Why have I never noticed her before?”

And the third… the third was a little messier.

His heart.

See, Han Wool’s heart wasn’t the kind of place that welcomed softness but the moment he saw you, something inside his chest—something tiny, quiet—melted for a split second.

He felt it. And it made him uncomfortable. Kinda pissed him off.

He turned to Min-hwan, his voice low and cold as always.

“Who’s that?”

Min-hwan glanced your way and smirked.

“Oh, her? Club president. Writes for the school paper, I think. I forgot her name. She’s like, model student material. Why?”

Han Wool didn’t answer. Didn’t feel the need to.

But his mind whispered:

“Fuck… how the hell did I never see this girl before?”

You were still messing with the board. At one point, you looked up. Your eyes didn’t wander. They went straight to Han Wool.

He was looking at you and you were looking back.

There was no judgment in yours. No fear.

Just… curiosity.

“I’m gonna burn this girl,” Han Wool thought.

And maybe he was right. His world was flammable.

Fighting. Strategy. Pressure. Control.

Everything either broke or burned.

But you? You were featherlight. Soft. Sweet. The kind of thing that’d go up in flames with the slightest spark.

So he didn’t approach.

But from that moment on— He started watching you. Closely.

⸻

In the days that followed, he saw you everywhere. You had no idea.

Reading by the window during lunch, walking slow through the hall, fixing your bag strap as you left school..

One time, you even slipped—and caught yourself on the wall just in time.

He remembered all of it.

One day, Min-hwan asked:

“Dude, what is up with you? You’ve been staring at the same spot for weeks.”

Han Wool scowled, shrugged.

“I dunno… she pisses me off. She’s too innocent. Too pure…” He trailed off, chuckling.

Min-hwan laughed, but Han Wool didn’t.

Because you really were too delicate for him. But soon enough, he was the one who’d strike the first match.

⸻

The poster went up. Big bold letters. Bright colors.

And when you saw it, your eyes widened just a little.

“PROM! 💐”

“Yusung students only. Formal wear required.”

You couldn’t help the little flutter in your chest. These things were rare for someone like you. You were quiet, kept to yourself. Always tucked away in your books, head bent over club work, watching the courtyard from a distance during lunch.

But something about the idea of the dance… it touched you. Because even the most reserved person—deep down—wants to feel like “someone” for a night. Wants to wear something pretty, lock eyes with someone while music plays, dance… Even if it’s just for one song.

But while you were dreaming… the rest of the school? They were already going feral. Especially the girls.

There weren’t many girls to begin with but once the news broke?

“Who’s asking who?”

“If you dance with Pi Han Wool, you’re basically famous.”

And yeah—just as you guessed—he got the first ask.

⸻

Han Wool was sitting in the back garden behind the school, perched on one of those old benches. Standard school uniform. Tie loose. Fresh bandage on his cheek. Min-hwan beside him, fiddling with a little bead gun like he was bored out of his mind.

Two girls approached, hesitantly. One looked like she’d bitten her own tongue.

“Um… Han Wool, would you… maybe wanna go to the dance with me?”

Han Wool barely lifted his head.

“No.”

The girl froze. Her friend touched his arm, tried again:

“Just for one night—could be fun—”

Han Wool turned slowly. His eyes? Ice.

“Don’t touch me.”

They shut up.

Backed off.

Ran.

Min-hwan snorted.

“Damn, you went hard. Good though. They’re nuts.”

Han Wool didn’t reply. His mind was elsewhere.

⸻

Same day. Same courtyard. Just a little further down.

You were there.

Sitting alone. Bag on your lap. Doodling something in your notebook.

Han Wool didn’t say a word. Just walked over with Min-hwan. Their steps were slow. Like they’d planned it.

You didn’t even notice at first. Only when the shadow crossed your page. You looked up.

Two boys were standing in front of you.

Min-hwan was smirking, clicking his little bead gun. Click. Click. Click.

But it was Han Wool that got your attention. Broad shoulders. Perfectly fitted shirt. But his eyes… They were dark, focused, locked on you.

“Get up,” he said.

Your body stiffened. What was going on?

“Um… did I do something?”

Han Wool stepped a little closer. There was no threat in his voice—but his whole presence was a kind of threat. Still… this time felt different.

“No. I just wanna ask you something.”

You looked away. Slowly stood up. Your hands trembled. Your heart pounded.

Min-hwan kept clicking the toy. Han Wool turned his head. Min-hwan shut up. Pocketed the toy and walked away.

Now it was just you, him and the silence.

Neither of you spoke at first. Then he looked at you, dead serious:

“Got a date to the dance?”

Your brain short-circuited. What the hell did he just say?

“No… I mean… I wasn’t really planning to…”

That’s when he looked at you differently.

Softer. One word:

“Come with me.”

You blinked. Was this a joke? Was he messing with you? But no. He looked serious. No smirk. No play. Just a boy, asking. And then he added:

“Don’t overdo it. But be pretty.”

You swallowed.

Didn’t say yes.

Didn’t say no.

But he turned around and walked away. Left you standing there, heart banging against your ribs.

“Pi Han Wool just asked me to the dance.”

⸻

The gym sparkled. Streamers hung from the ceiling, looking cheap in daylight, but under those lights? They glittered like crystal. The air was thick with excitement.

Boys in suits—some barely fitting. Girls, transformed.

You…

Looked at yourself one last time in the mirror. Soft curls. Simple makeup. But your eyes… They were dreaming.

Your dress wasn’t short. Wasn’t long either. Brushed your knees when you walked. Your shoulders bare. Elegant. A single pearl necklace rested at your throat—something you gifted yourself that morning.

One deep breath— And you stepped into the gym.

Everyone was there and every eye found you.

Mouths parted. Whispers passed.

“Isn’t that the quiet girl?”

But you didn’t hear them. You were looking for him.

And right then, In the crowd, in the noise..

He walked in.

Black suit. White shirt, no tie. Clean shoes. Hair that looked like it’d been styled, but still held that effortless mess.

People moved for him. Like they always did.

But he didn’t look at anyone. He was looking for you. Slow steps. He stopped in front of you. Didn’t look down. Just… looked. One second. Then cleared his throat.

“You look beautiful.”

His tone was a little less icy than usual. Like the words were hard to say—but he meant them.

His eyes?

They said: You’re the one I chose.

You dipped your head. Cheeks warming. Couldn’t quite meet his gaze. You smiled. And for the first time… You weren’t afraid of him.

Then the music started.

A waltz. Slow, deep. The kind that tugs at your chest from the first note.

Couples gathered on the floor.

Han Wool held out his hand. His palm was rough—but steady. You looked at it. Then at him.

And took it.

You stepped together onto the dance floor. The gym’s polished wood glowed beneath your feet. When he placed a hand on your waist, you flinched. Eyes shut for a moment. But he paused.

Didn’t move further. Didn’t want to scare you.

He could crush you. But he was trying not to.

That was what hit you the hardest. You were close. So close you could hear him breathe. You stopped avoiding his eyes. Looked up. Met his gaze.

“You’re not as bad as they say,” you said. The words just came.

“I mean, I’ve heard stuff. That you scare people. Threaten teachers. But right now… I don’t know. You don’t seem that bad.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted to nothing. Then returned to you.

Quietly, firmly:

“You’re wrong. I’m that bad.”

You blinked.

“Really?”

He nodded slightly.

“I’m not a good person. I don’t go easy on anyone.”

Then softer. Almost a whisper.

“Except you.”

Those words… Just two. But they set your chest on fire.

You were embarrassed. But not happy. Because you understood. He wasn’t trying to be good. But for you? He was trying to be harmless.

⸻

The music ended. The gym buzzed. But you…You were in a silent world.

The dance was over. But for you, everything had just begun.

⸻

The moon hung heavy in the sky. The gym was nearly empty. The crowd was gone. Laughter faded. Dresses stuffed into bags.

You hadn’t left. You were sitting on an old wooden bench behind the school. Just you and him

Your back straight. Hands folded in your lap. Han Wool leaned back, eyes turned toward the sky. The wind was soft. Still chilled your skin. But something deeper was making you shiver.

“Why me?”

Your voice was soft, but clear.

“Why did you ask me, out of everyone?”

He didn’t answer right away. Checked the words in his mind.

“Because you’re nothing like anyone I know… You’re the exact opposite of me.”

His eyes held weight. Like even saying that took energy.

He went on:

“And you know what they say. Opposites attract.”

You dropped your gaze. Scuffed the dirt with your shoe. Another pause. Then, quietly—

“I’ve heard a lot about you…”

Your voice cracked a little. But there was no judgment. Only wonder.

“You’ve done a lot of bad things… And you’re still being this gentle with me. It’s surprising.”

Han Wool let out a breath. Ran a hand through his hair. Talking about this stuff wasn’t easy for him. It just… wasn’t something he did.

“Because when I look at you, It feels like you’d break if I touched you wrong.”

He looked at you. Really looked.

You turned away. Confused. Scared of your own thoughts but you had to say it. That thing that had been sitting inside your chest, slowly forming shape.

“I’m afraid you’ll burn me.”

He froze. Held his breath. Eyes narrowed. He didn’t break But he thought.

Then he leaned just a little closer. Gently touched your shoulder.

“You should be,” he said.

“Because I can’t help it sometimes. I’m used to hurting the people around me.”

Then softer.Almost confessing.

“But if I hurt you… It’ll feel like I hurt myself.”

Silence fell. The air between you changed. Not cold but heavy.

Then, for the first time… With no smirk, no sarcasm, just plain honesty, Pi Han Wool looked you dead in the eyes.

“Will you go out with me?”

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Have you seen Study Group?

🦁

He Only Listens to You

Pairing: Pi Han-wool x Reader (Y/N) Setting: Canonverse (Study Group timeline, violent high school, fights, tutoring, dark undertones) Genre: Romance, Angst, Action, Obsession, Smut Length: Full one-shot ~10,000+ words POV: Third person (Y/N-focused)

Author's note: Have you seen night has come?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N didn’t understand what she had done to earn Pi Han-wool’s loyalty.

He didn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t fight for anyone but Ga-min. And he definitely didn’t give a shit about anyone else.

But when it came to her, something shifted in his gaze. He looked at her like she was a secret only he got to keep. Like he could kill for her, die for her, or sit in silence for hours beside her and it would still mean more than anything.

It started during the second semester.

Y/N had been assigned to tutor the bottom five students in Class 3-5. She didn’t complain. Not out loud, at least.

But when Pi Han-wool dragged his chair across the floor and dropped into it with the quiet rage of someone who had seen too much for someone his age, she froze.

“You don’t have to try with me,” he said without looking at her.

“That’s fine,” she answered, flipping through her notes. “I’ll try anyway.”

That night, someone from Class 2-4 tried to grope her on the way home.

The guy didn’t make it to second period the next morning. No one saw Han-wool move, but the guy was found behind the gym with a broken wrist and a shattered jaw.

Y/N never said a word. Neither did he.

But after that, he started sitting closer. He’d rest his cheek on his arm and pretend to sleep while she explained algebra. His eyes were always half-open. Watching her lips. Watching the way her fingers moved. Watching the world only through her.

He only spoke when she spoke to him. He only acted when she was in danger.

When Ga-min went down in a fight and everyone turned to Han-wool, he didn’t move.

Until Y/N whispered, “Help him.”

Then he snapped.

Like a dog off leash, he cut through the crowd like wind. Fists cracked bone. Blood spilled. And when it was over, he came back to her, shirt stained red, eyes asking for praise.

She never gave him what he wanted.

Not then.

The night everything broke open, it was raining.

She found him behind the school, knuckles raw and eyes empty. A cigarette dangled from his lips even though he never smoked. It was someone else's. A threat, maybe. A promise.

“You’re hurt,” she said.

He shrugged. “They deserved it.”

“Who?”

“Anyone who looked at you too long.”

He kissed her like he wasn’t supposed to.

He kissed her like the world was ending.

His hands were cold from the rain but her skin burned wherever he touched. His mouth was rough, desperate, but when she gasped, he pulled back like he had overstepped.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

Her fingers curled into his soaked shirt. “No.”

In her bedroom, he barely said a word.

But the way he touched her said everything.

He stripped her down slowly, reverently, like memorizing a textbook he couldn’t afford to fail. His hands trembled, not from fear, but restraint.

“You’re the only one who talks to me like I’m human,” he whispered against her thigh.

Then he devoured her.

She thought he’d be brutal—and he was, in his own way. But there was a worship in his violence. A kind of hungry need to leave no part of her untouched.

He stayed inside her as long as she’d let him.

When she asked if he wanted to stop, he shook his head and begged, “Not yet.”

After that night, he didn’t change.

He was still silent. Still deadly. Still loyal to Ga-min.

But everyone noticed the way he moved when she walked by. The way he stood behind her in fights, always between her and the chaos.

Someone asked him, half-joking, if she was his weakness.

He looked them dead in the eyes and said, “No. She’s my reason.”

She tried to leave him once.

Told him he was too intense. Too much.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t beg.

He just looked at her like she had gutted him. Then he walked away.

A week later, she woke up with bruises on her window sill—not hers. Knuckles. Like someone had been standing outside every night, fists clenched, watching over her in the dark.

When she confronted him, he just said, “You said I couldn’t have you. Not that I couldn’t protect you.”

She kissed him again.

Harder this time.

When the school collapsed into war, and every faction turned on itself, Han-wool fought without mercy.

But when someone grabbed Y/N by the throat and held a knife to her cheek, he lost it.

He didn’t stop hitting the guy until his own fists split open.

She had to pull him off, whispering his name over and over until he collapsed against her.

“They touched you,” he gasped, voice shaking. “They don’t get to touch you.”

She held him that night.

Let him bury himself inside her again and again until he was too tired to move. Until the only thing he could say was her name.

They called him a monster.

They were right.

But even monsters have someone they’d never hurt.

Someone they’d burn for.

And for Pi Han-wool, that person was her.

Only her.

Always her.

[soneblomsblog]

Don’t Touch What’s His

Pairing: Pi Han Wool x Fem!Reader (yoon ga min?)

Summary: Yoon Ga Min didn’t mean to start anything he just asked you to join his study group. Too bad everyone at school knows better than to mess with Pi Han Wool’s girl.

Warnings: jealousy, tension, possessiveness, threats (not-so-subtle), mild language

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊

I was just sitting there, minding my own business, flipping through my notes when someone dropped into the seat across from me like we were already friends. I looked up, and yeah it was that new guy. Yoon Ga Min. He was one of a kind well in my opinion, the kind that made people either curious or nervous because I heard about him fighting also.

“You should join our study group,” he said out of nowhere. “We could use someone smart like you.”

I blinked. Huh?

Before I could even think of what to say, the chair next to me scraped so loud I flinched.

“Move.”

It was Min Hwan. And judging by the way he was glaring at Ga Min, things were about to get awkward real fast.

Ga Min raised an eyebrow, not even flinching. “It’s just a chair.”

Min Hwan didn’t budge. “Yeah, and she’s just Pi Han Wool’s girlfriend.”

Then a random student popped up outta nowhere like he was waiting for this exact moment. “Bro. You’re either new or crazy. Everyone knows not to mess with her.”

I sighed. Here we go again.

And then like clockwork I felt him before I even saw him.

Han Wool.

He didn’t say anything right away, just stood there behind Ga Min with that cold stare that always made people shut up real quick.

Ga Min slowly got up, trying to act unbothered, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. “Didn’t mean anything by it,” he said. “She just looked interesting.”

Han Wool’s voice was quiet, but sharp as hell. “She is. And she’s mine.”

I reached for his sleeve, tugging gently. “Let’s just go.”

He put his arm around me like a claim, and we started walking away. I didn’t need to look back, but I did anyway.

Ga Min was still staring at me.

And the worst part?

A tiny part of me… kinda wanted to stare back.

[mcnastyy2]

Masterlist

[❕]❝Please make sure to read the rules!❞[❕]

Fluff: ☁️

Angst: 🌪️

NSFW: 👻

Note: By NSFW, I don’t just mean smut. It can also include violence, death, blood, obsession, and other heavy content.

Wattpad

⸻

Lee Jun Young (Geum Seongjae, Han Soo Gang)

➜ After last night (Pt.1) 👻

➜ Sex, money, feelings die (Pt.2) 👻

➜ Kristen, come right back (Pt.3)🌪️ 👻

➜ As if we never happened (Pt.4)🌪️

➜ Drive you insane (Pt.5) ☁️ 👻

➜ Your only owner (Pt.1)🌪️ 👻

➜ Lips over scars (Pt.2)🌪️👻

➜ I never pretended (Pt.3) 🌪️👻

➜ Can't give up on you (Pt.4) ☁️🌪️👻

➜ Try again when you’re legal☁️

➜ Baby, come home (Pt.1)🌪️ 👻

➜ Welcome home (Pt.2)🌪️

➜ Twisted 👻🌪️

➜ Haunted 👻

➜ "Angel" 👻🌪️

⸻

Cha Woomin (Kang Woo-young, Pi Han Wool)

➜ Almost (Pt.1) ☁️

➜ Too scared to kiss you (Pt.2) ☁️

➜ Late realizations ☁️

➜ Paid to hurt 🌪️

➜ Close Combat ☁️

➜ Cha Woo-min x short reader hc ☁️

➜ Feathery ☁️

⸻

Jeon Yeong-bin

➜ I’ve got my eye on you ☁️

⸻

Oh Beom Seok

➜ Can’t you see me 👻

➜ Healing through love ☁️👻

➜ Behind closed doors 👻

➜ The Last Candle

⸻

Ryeoun (Park Humin)

➜ Possession Games 👻