remtrack

[remtrack]

i think he'd like that tbh

fate... and a cigarette ★ lee haechan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

“I’ll light it up for you.”

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

“I don’t do cigars, just vape.”

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

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

“Picking up boys, actually.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Is it working?”

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

“Gotta go, thanks for the lighter.”

★★★

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

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

“Got a cigarette for me to light up?”

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

“I didn't know you were here.”

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

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

“You’re all red. You cold, pretty?”

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

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

“Okay, take this.”

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

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

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, pretty.”

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

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

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

“Okay, so I’ll come every Thursday.”

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

“So, can I have your number?”

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

Hence, you bit your tongue.

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

★★★

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

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

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

“Well…”

“Kind of silly, isn’t it?”

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

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

“Are you guys closed?”

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

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

“Still open?”

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

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

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

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

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

★★★

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

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

“It’s actually for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Bet, I’m holding you to that.”

★★★

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

[remtrack]

why does the haechan smut tag get updates every once in two weeks omg it's hard for daily gooners like me

[remtrack]

no cs i love men in blush but especially when its jisung EEEEEK

THE PRETTY FOREHEAD PRETTY BLUSH COMBO😭

[remtrack]

bttf is so fire also haechan looks so yummy im gonna eat his ass

[remtrack]

fate... and a cigarette ★ lee haechan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

“I’ll light it up for you.”

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

“I don’t do cigars, just vape.”

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

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

“Picking up boys, actually.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Is it working?”

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

“Gotta go, thanks for the lighter.”

★★★

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

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

“Got a cigarette for me to light up?”

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

“I didn't know you were here.”

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

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

“You’re all red. You cold, pretty?”

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

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

“Okay, take this.”

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

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

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, pretty.”

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

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

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

“Okay, so I’ll come every Thursday.”

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

“So, can I have your number?”

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

Hence, you bit your tongue.

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

★★★

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

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

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

“Well…”

“Kind of silly, isn’t it?”

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

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

“Are you guys closed?”

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

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

“Still open?”

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

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

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

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

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

★★★

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

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

“It’s actually for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Bet, I’m holding you to that.”

★★★

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

[remtrack]

okay so! i went out on a date with this one guy, and i was smoking out his car window. he kept staring (and it was so cute...) so i asked why he was staring and he went "you just look really good when you're smoking" omg that got me wet lowkey. he's never tried a cig or even a vape so i asked if he wanted to try and he said "what if i choke" so i JOKINGLY said "let me blow it into your mouth." urmmm he said yes so i did kiss him and blew the smoke into his mouth and it was hot 😫 he plays the guitar so that's why i made haechan a rockstar in that oneshot and he did have a zippo lighter which i found really cool yeah

What if i told u guys fate and a cigarette was loosely inspired by me n this guy 😹😹😹

[remtrack]

Read if u wanna see hot sexy rockstar hyuck

fate... and a cigarette ★ lee haechan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

“I’ll light it up for you.”

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

“I don’t do cigars, just vape.”

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

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

“Picking up boys, actually.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Is it working?”

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

“Gotta go, thanks for the lighter.”

★★★

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

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

“Got a cigarette for me to light up?”

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

“I didn't know you were here.”

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

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

“You’re all red. You cold, pretty?”

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

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

“Okay, take this.”

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

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

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, pretty.”

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

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

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

“Okay, so I’ll come every Thursday.”

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

“So, can I have your number?”

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

Hence, you bit your tongue.

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

★★★

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

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

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

“Well…”

“Kind of silly, isn’t it?”

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

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

“Are you guys closed?”

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

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

“Still open?”

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

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

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

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

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

★★★

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

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

“It’s actually for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Bet, I’m holding you to that.”

★★★

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

[remtrack]

What if i told u guys fate and a cigarette was loosely inspired by me n this guy 😹😹😹

[remtrack]

fate... and a cigarette ★ lee haechan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

“I’ll light it up for you.”

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

“I don’t do cigars, just vape.”

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

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

“Picking up boys, actually.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Is it working?”

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

“Gotta go, thanks for the lighter.”

★★★

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

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

“Got a cigarette for me to light up?”

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

“I didn't know you were here.”

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

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

“You’re all red. You cold, pretty?”

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

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

“Okay, take this.”

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

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

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, pretty.”

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

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

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

“Okay, so I’ll come every Thursday.”

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

“So, can I have your number?”

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

Hence, you bit your tongue.

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

★★★

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

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

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

“Well…”

“Kind of silly, isn’t it?”

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

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

“Are you guys closed?”

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

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

“Still open?”

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

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

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

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

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

★★★

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

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

“It’s actually for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Bet, I’m holding you to that.”

★★★

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

[remtrack]

holo, molo, marco POLO‼️‼️💪💪💪

and HOMO 💯💯💯☝️☝️☝️

[remtrack]

share the little spoon haechan thoughts queen 🙏🙏 ears and eyes Open !!! ^_^

thank you for this opportunity kia... here we go...

i think that haechan's the kind of boyfriend to enjoy being loved on at times, especially when he's not feeling his best. and he's not the kind to ask either, he'd simply crawl into bed beside you, and tuck himself into your embrace. omg he'd even go as far as placing your hand on his waist and the other on his hair. "pat me or play with my hair." honestly he might even prefer being the little spoon cause he just loves the feeling of your hands around his waist

i need him so bad

[remtrack]

(♪.⋆˚) blue's soundcloud !

welcome to my first attempt of an activity with my very own cutieful followers !! i thought it would be cute to combine two of my biggest passions, writing and music, to do something that will hopefully help me connect with all of you♡♡

if you'd like to take part in this, all you have to do is drop a request on my inbox with the next things

𐙚 the nct member you'd like the fic to be about 𐙚 song in which to base the fic 𐙚 what trope/genre you'd like (e2l, angst, fluff, etc) although this is not required if you'd rather i chose. 𐙚 any specifity or note you want to make!

i don't write smut and if there's anything i don't feel comfortable with writing, i wont, so please understand if so!

these will be posted as fast as i can and there will be a playlist made with the songs you request!

the deadline is july 8th, and i ask you to please be patient! i will do my best to work as fast as i can, but writing takes time and dedication so yeah!

𐙚 blue's corner ;; if this flops i'm gonna cry, just saying. 𐙚 please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

© peterm4rker, 2025

[remtrack]

kia i get U... he looks so big and strong i feel like my worries will disappear after a hug 😞

i think a hug from johnny suh would heal smthing inside of me

[remtrack]

today i'd like to spread my little spoon haechan agenda. who wants to hear my thoughts like and comment or hop into my inbox juseyo

[remtrack]

midnight ★ haechan.

haechan x gn!reader. fluff, oneshot.

wc: 526 words.

In which Haechan comes home tired.

Haechan’s tired.

You know this because he doesn’t say anything upon entering the bedroom — no rambles about what he ate for lunch, or a corny joke Mark said during practice. He hangs his coat, and walks straight to the vanity to remove his make-up. You don’t say anything — because he must’ve talked to too many people and wanted some silence. Silently, you watch as he wipes off his make-up and steps into the shower. You’re still silent as he steps out, wet hair with a towel hanging low on his waist. You wait until he’s dressed before patting on your lap, inviting Haechan to sit. 

Sit, he does. He crawls onto the bed, seating himself on your lap and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He still doesn’t say anything — in his eldest son fashion. Haechan merely lets out a heavy exhale, as if sighing away the day’s worries. You rub circles on his back and lightly sway your bodies. 

“You did well today baby,” you whisper, tilting your head slightly to kiss his temple, “Proud of you.”

Haechan doesn’t say anything but you know he’s listening — he presses his face closer against your neck, his wet lips on your skin like a kiss. His grip around your neck tightens, his body inching closer towards yours. Your senses are overtaken by him — the warmth of his skin, and the smell of his body wash. Just him, him, and him. Gently, you thread your fingers through the black strands of his hair and feel its wetness. 

“Let me dry your hair, baby?” 

“Mm.”

It doesn’t take much convincing to get him sitting on the vanity chair. You begin drying his hair, careful to not tug on the strands too hard. You could feel his gaze boring holes on your body through the mirror. He’s like a boy with a schoolboy crush because when you reciprocate his gaze through the mirror, he blushes. Haechan’s tearing his gaze from the mirror to look somewhere else, the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears red. 

Cute. 

Once you’re done, you place the hairdryer on the vanity, using one hand to massage your boyfriend’s scalp. Immediately, his eyes flutter close, letting out groans and tilting his head towards you. A chuckle elicits from your lips, as you lean down to press a kiss on his cheek. 

Smells like your moisturizer — you know why you’ve been running out fast lately. 

“I love it when you take care of me,” Haechan whispers. It’s the first time you’re hearing his voice tonight. It’s hoarse, probably from the endless recording sessions. 

“You do?” you say, bringing down your hand to wrap your arms around his neck. Softly, you rest your chin on his head.

Haechan nods before putting his hands on yours. He looks at you through the mirror before tilting his head up, puckering his lips for a kiss. It’s awkward because it’s upside down — nevertheless, you grant him the kiss. He giggles into the kiss, his affection reverberating in every sound. 

“I love you so much,” he whispers — the three words reserved for only you. “So much.”

[remtrack]

haechan, who claims that you're the clingier person in your relationship. every time you ask for cuddles, his lips exaggeratively puckers, in mockery of you. but then he'll slip under the blankets and hold you so tight, you feel as though you're about to merge into one. sometimes he'll insist on being the small spoon, tucking himself in your embrace and placing your hands around him, whining when you move.

he also has a habit of asking for a kiss every five minutes. you're cooking together, him stirring the pot as you cut up the ingredients. you dice the onions, and he says "kiss?" you're marinating the kitchen, he goes "kiss?" you're plating the food — this time, he doesn't say anything, simply puckers his lips and bats his eyelashes, expecting you to place a kiss onto his lips.

don't even think about going out without kissing him. he'll be pouty. "i wish you could leave your lips here for me to kiss anytime." okay weird... but so cute.

inspired by this tweet i saw!

[remtrack]

gamer boyfriend haechan who ragebaits u in game cs it turns him on