speedywizardland

[speedywizardland]

🌸 Ha Ichan x Reader Headcanons

Twinkling watermelon 🍉

🌟 Meeting You (Time-Slip AU or Canon-verse)

You first meet Ha Ichan in the music room, where he's quietly practicing guitar. You were drawn in by the melody — gentle, wistful, and raw.

At first, he’s a little reserved with you, flashing that soft but slightly awkward smile, clearly unsure how to handle someone who's really paying attention to him.

You bond over music — maybe you sing, maybe you draw, or maybe you’re just the one who always sits nearby, listening with the kind of face that says, “I get it.”

🎧 The Way He Loves

Ha Ichan doesn’t fall quickly, but he falls deeply. He won’t say “I love you” outright — instead, he’ll let his actions speak: waiting after your club ends, tuning your guitar, memorizing your favorite snack.

He writes lyrics about you but never shows them. You discover one by accident in a forgotten notebook, and he blushes like crazy, mumbling, “It’s not finished...”

If he notices you’re upset, he won’t ask questions at first. He’ll just walk beside you, wordless but steady, and offer a cassette tape with a song that says everything he can’t.

🍉 Summer Days & Watermelons

One summer evening, you and Ichan sneak into the school rooftop with a slice of watermelon each. The sky glows orange, and he tells you about his dream of playing music that heals.

You laugh when juice drips down his chin, and without thinking, he wipes yours too. The moment hangs — warm, golden, and unspoken.

Later, he plucks a melody on his guitar and says, “This is what your laugh sounds like to me.”

🌌 If You’re From the Future

You start dropping strange references — songs that haven’t been released, slang that makes him blink twice. Ha Ichan isn’t quick to assume, but he knows something’s different about you.

“Sometimes,” he says, “you look at things like you’ve already lived through them.”

You hesitate to tell him you're not from his time, afraid it might change things — but Ha Ichan only holds your hand tighter. “Even if you disappear... I’ll wait for you. However long it takes.”

💌 Little Things He Does

Writes tiny notes on guitar picks and hides them in your case.

Gets incredibly jealous when someone flirts with you — but instead of getting angry, he just quietly plays a moodier riff during practice.

When he finally confesses, he does it through a song, unable to meet your eyes — but his voice trembles with sincerity, and that’s how you know it’s real.

[speedywizardland]

Title: “The Words I Couldn't Say”

Ahn Su-ho x male reader

The bell rang, marking the end of another long day at Eunjang High. Su-ho stood in the doorway of the empty classroom, backpack slung over one shoulder, his gaze drifting across the scattered desks. Most students had already left, laughter and conversations echoing faintly from the hallway.

Except for one person—you.

You were always the quiet one. Always taking notes meticulously, keeping your head low, never quite stepping into the chaos that surrounded Su-ho and the others. But you were always there, in the background, always watching.

And Su-ho noticed.

---

Your notebook was left behind again. He picked it up instinctively, meaning to return it later. But something made him pause. There was a small, folded paper tucked between the pages. It wasn’t your usual handwriting. It was shaky, almost hesitant.

Curious—and a little worried—it might be something serious, Su-ho opened it.

> "I don’t know why I wrote this. Maybe because I’m tired of pretending like I don’t care.

I like him. I’ve liked him for a long time.

He’s strong, but kind. The way he always stands up for others, even if it hurts him.

He makes me want to be brave.

…I love Su-ho. And I know he’ll never feel the same."

Su-ho stared at the paper, his heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears. He sat down at a desk without realizing it, fingers tightening slightly around the note.

You…?

You loved him?

---

Later that day, you returned to the classroom in a panic, searching for your notebook. Your heart dropped when you saw it sitting neatly on your desk—with the note unfolded and sitting on top.

Your breath caught. Your stomach twisted.

He saw it.

Before you could bolt, the classroom door opened.

Su-ho walked in.

He stood there, quiet, just looking at you. Not with judgment. Not even confusion. Just... a kind of quiet realization in his eyes.

“I read it,” he said.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see that. Just—just forget it, okay?”

He stepped closer. “No.”

Your head shot up. “What?”

“I’m not going to forget it. Because it’s not something I want to forget.”

You felt the air catch in your throat.

Su-ho took a slow breath. “I never thought… I mean, I didn’t know you felt that way. You always seemed like you wanted to be invisible.”

You laughed weakly. “I did. It was easier. Safer.”

He nodded. “But you wrote it down. Even if no one was supposed to see it… you still wrote it.”

You swallowed hard. “Because I couldn’t keep it in anymore. Because I needed to say it somewhere, even if just to myself.”

A silence settled.

Then Su-ho walked up to you and, hesitantly, placed a hand over your notebook.

“I don’t know everything I feel yet,” he said. “But I know I care about you. I’ve noticed you more than you think.”

You looked up, eyes wide.

“And I want to try,” he said softly. “If you’ll let me.”

Your breath trembled. “You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”

Tears welled up, unexpected and hot, and you quickly looked away. But Su-ho gently reached out, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”

And for the first time, you let yourself believe it.

Found it in my crafts ;)

[speedywizardland]

Title: "Melody of Us"

Ha Eungyeol x Reader

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the city. Ha Eun-gyeol’s rooftop felt like a private piece of the sky—just high enough to feel like the world belonged only to the two of you.

You sat next to him, legs tangled in a pile of mismatched blankets, your head resting lightly on his shoulder as his guitar lay across his lap, idle for once.

“I like this,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, nose brushing against his cheek. “This?”

He smiled—one of those shy, slightly crooked smiles he only gave you. “You. This moment. Us.”

Your heart gave a soft squeeze, like it always did when he looked at you like that. You reached out to brush a strand of hair away from his forehead, and he leaned into your touch like it was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.

“I like it too,” you murmured.

He leaned in slowly, like a melody building toward the chorus—unhurried but full of intention. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and warm, like the summer breeze that brushed across your skin. The kiss deepened only slightly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as if you were something precious.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go far. His forehead rested against yours, eyes still closed.

“I think I’m falling more in love with you every day,” he said.

Your fingers found his, threading together easily. “That’s good, because I already fell.”

He laughed quietly, the sound like music to your ears. Then he set his guitar aside and pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around you like a protective shield against the world. You nestled into him, head tucked under his chin, your hands playing with the fabric of his hoodie.

“Can we stay like this forever?” you asked.

He kissed the top of your head. “If I have you in my arms, I’ll stay anywhere.”

The city lights blinked below, but neither of you noticed. In that quiet space above the world, all that mattered was the soft sound of his heartbeat and the way he held you like home.

[speedywizardland]

I loved watching weak hero class, but it was emotional damaged....:( Suho,my boy

[speedywizardland]

💥 Su-ho x Reader NSFW Headcanons

🖤 Su-ho in the sheets:

Surprisingly dominant. He’s quiet and composed in public, but in private? He takes control with a calm intensity that leaves you breathless. His voice drops, his touch gets firmer, and he watches your reactions like a tactician mapping your weaknesses.

Protective but not gentle. He’s not rough in a reckless way, but he doesn’t hold back either. You’re his safe place, and when he’s with you, he lets go of all the control he holds onto in daily life — in the form of deep kisses, bruising grips, and whispered filth in your ear.

Mouthy when it counts. He may not talk a lot usually, but during sex, he surprises you with low, growled praises: “You feel so good for me,” “Look at you, taking me so well,” or sometimes just a broken “Mine.”

Hands. Hands. Hands. As a fighter, he knows how to use his body with precision. That translates directly into the bedroom. He’ll pin you down easily with just one hand, or grip your hips so hard you’ll feel it the next day. He loves teasing you with just his fingers, making you beg before he gives you what you want.

Unshakable eye contact. He needs to see your face when you fall apart — it’s part of his craving for closeness, even if he doesn’t verbalize it. Eye contact during climax is a must. You’ve never felt so seen.

Slow burn to desperate heat. It often starts with intense eye contact, some casual touches while he pretends he’s not affected. But once the tension snaps? It’s fast, hot, and all-consuming — like he’s been holding back for days.

---

🔥 Situational Headcanons:

Post-fight sex is always raw and possessive. When he’s all bruised and bloodied, the adrenaline and relief turn into something physical. You help patch him up, but he ends up slamming you against the wall, needing to feel alive through you.

Shower sex is frequent. He’s pragmatic and clean, and sometimes the easiest way to “multitask” after a rough day is pulling you into the bathroom. Steamy kisses against the tiles, your hands tangled in his wet hair — and him pressing you up against the glass as water pours down your bodies.

Morning after Su-ho is soft, tired, and clingy in a way he won’t admit. He won’t say much, but he’ll keep you in bed with his arms wrapped tightly around you, occasionally pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder or neck.

He memorizes your reactions. He knows exactly which angle makes you gasp, which spot makes your thighs shake, and he uses that knowledge with precision — like he’s fighting a battle you both win.

[speedywizardland]

Title: "The Space Between Us"

Pairing: Kang Woo Young x Reader

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, jealousy, possessiveness, emotional intimacy, light NSFW (dry humping implied), soft body worship, angst with comfort

---

Part I: Cracks in the Armor

You’d known Woo Young since your second year, but it wasn’t until you transferred into his class that everything began to shift. People whispered about him—cold, ruthless, all fists and no softness. You knew better. Or you thought you did.

He was quiet, not because he didn’t have things to say, but because no one ever listened. And he noticed things. The way you never looked anyone in the eye when you were anxious. The way your fingers clenched your skirt when someone flirted with you too boldly.

He noticed too much.

You caught him looking one day—when some loud guy from Class 3 tried to corner you near the vending machine. He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, arms crossed, his stare sharp enough to slice bone. The other boy backed off, mumbling something about having “somewhere to be.”

Afterward, Woo Young walked away without a word. But he didn’t need to say anything.

That was the beginning.

---

Part II: Silent Thunder

Every touch after that was loaded.

When you passed him a pen and his fingers brushed yours—electric.

When he stood behind you during a fight and muttered, “Don’t touch her,” to some punk who looked at you the wrong way—lightning.

You started to wonder: was this protectiveness, or something else?

You tried dating someone. Minsoo, from Class 2. Sweet, harmless. But Woo Young wouldn’t even look at him. Wouldn’t acknowledge him. When he saw you walking with Minsoo after class, his jaw tightened, his fists clenched, and later that night, Minsoo ghosted you with a vague text:

> “I think someone doesn’t want us talking.”

You knew who.

And it should’ve pissed you off. But instead, it made your stomach twist in that dark, addictive way. Because even if it was wrong—some part of you wanted him to be jealous.

---

Part III: Unspoken

“You hate me or something?” you asked him once, during detention.

He looked at you with that unreadable expression of his, the one he used before fights.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you act like I’m some bomb about to explode?”

He leaned closer then, voice low.

“Because you’re the only thing I’m not supposed to want.”

You didn’t breathe for a full five seconds.

He looked away first.

---

Part IV: Edge of Control

It happened one night in the gym. You stayed late to help clean up after a training session. He stayed too. Of course he did.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said, gripping the mop too tightly.

“I’ve been giving you space.”

You laughed bitterly. “You’re not good at that.”

He crossed the room before you could blink, taking the mop from your hands and tossing it aside like it offended him. You stumbled back until your spine hit the wall.

“Do you want space?” he asked, voice rough. “From me?”

Your silence was all the answer he needed.

His hands braced on either side of your head, his forehead brushing yours, breathing heavy. He looked like he was about to combust.

“I think about you,” he admitted. “Too much. When you laugh. When you touch me, even by accident. When some other guy thinks he can talk to you like he deserves your smile.”

You didn’t stop him when his hand slid to your waist, fingers twitching like he was holding back a hundred urges at once.

“You’re not mine,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “But I want you to be.”

You tugged him closer—chest to chest, hip to hip. He shuddered.

“I want to be.”

---

Part V: Worship in Shadows

What followed wasn’t fast. It was desperate, aching, restrained.

He kissed you like he was memorizing your soul. No roughness, just reverence. As if you were something sacred. His hands trembled as they roamed your sides, stopping just shy of places he wanted to touch—needed to—but didn’t dare without permission.

“Say it,” he whispered, breath hitching against your neck.

“Say what?”

“That you’re mine. Even just for now.”

You wrapped your arms around him, grounding him. “I’m yours.”

And then there was no holding back.

He lifted you gently, as if your weight was a privilege. You gripped his shoulders as he pressed you against the wall, grinding against you slowly, like he was trying to brand the feeling into his skin. Every movement deliberate. Every roll of his hips a silent cry for more.

“Perfect,” he murmured against your collarbone, mouth moving like a prayer. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You cupped his face. “I do. I’ve felt it too.”

---

Part VI: The Morning After Isn’t Morning

You never made it to his bed. You ended up tangled in the blankets of the training room, whispering apologies and confessions between shuddering breaths.

He didn’t take things further. Not that night. Even though he wanted to.

Instead, he laid you down, kissed your forehead, and held you close until the anger and the longing and the fear quieted between your ribs.

“You’re not weak,” he whispered against your temple. “But I’ll fight the whole world if it touches you wrong.”

You smiled into his chest, and for the first time in too long, you believed someone meant it.

Added a new character:)

[speedywizardland]

Title: “Beneath the Bruises”

The late autumn wind scraped along the rooftop, rustling leaves from the nearby gingko tree. Su-ho sat on the edge of the school's rooftop, legs dangling over the ledge. The city sprawled beneath him — blurred traffic, the muffled wails of sirens, and the distant hum of people whose lives never touched his.

You stood a few feet away, uncertain.

"You're gonna fall one day if you keep sitting there like that," you said.

Su-ho turned his head slowly, his signature quiet smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “And you’d catch me?”

"Probably not. But I'd tell the nurse where your broken body landed.”

He laughed, low and soft — a sound rarely heard from him. It wasn’t the mocking laugh he gave to his enemies, nor the rare, warm chuckle he spared for friends. This one was different.

You walked over and sat beside him, not too close, but close enough to feel the warmth coming off him in the cold wind. You watched the sky start to dim, streaks of violet bleeding into soft amber. The city was still rushing below, but up here it was just the two of you.

"You always come up here alone," you said after a long pause.

Su-ho didn't answer immediately. He never did. You learned early on that with him, silence wasn’t avoidance — it was thought. Careful, deliberate.

"It’s quiet," he finally replied. "Up here, no one wants to fight."

You didn’t say anything to that. You couldn’t. You knew what it was like to be tired of fighting. You might not have had the strength Su-ho had in his fists, but you bore your own weight — the weight of invisibility. Of being the one others overlooked. The weak one. Until you weren’t. Until you chose to stand up. Until people like Su-ho began to notice you.

And now, here you were. Sitting beside a boy who burned like a flame and yet looked like he was always about to be extinguished.

“I noticed your lip,” you said gently, glancing at the corner of his mouth where a scab had formed.

“It's nothing.”

"It’s never nothing."

He didn’t argue, but he didn’t explain either. The silence stretched, not uncomfortable but heavy. Like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how.

“I had a dream about you,” you said suddenly.

That got his attention. His head turned toward you again, eyes sharp but unreadable. “What kind of dream?”

"Nothing weird," you added quickly, and that drew another soft laugh from him. "Just… we were walking home after school. You were talking about something, I don’t even remember what. But you were smiling. Really smiling. Like everything was okay."

He didn’t say anything. You continued, voice quieter now.

"It felt nice. Peaceful. Like the world had stopped being cruel for just a second."

Su-ho looked at you for a long time.

Then, very slowly, he said, “I don’t smile like that often.”

You gave him a small, honest shrug. “I’d like to see you try.”

He exhaled sharply, as if deflating, then leaned back onto his elbows, eyes drifting up to the sky. “You’re strange,” he murmured.

“I know.”

"But you’re not scared of me."

“No.”

Most people either feared Su-ho or worshipped him like some teenage war god. You just… saw him. Not as a weapon. Not as a savior. Just a boy with bruised knuckles and tired eyes.

You sat in silence for a while after that. Then, without really thinking about it, you shifted closer. Your shoulder brushed his.

He didn’t pull away.

You almost stopped breathing.

It wasn’t much. Just contact. Just warmth.

But it felt like trust.

—

That rooftop became your place.

Sometimes you talked. Sometimes you didn’t. Sometimes Su-ho showed up late, his shirt torn or his knuckles raw. You never asked questions he didn’t want to answer. You just sat with him. Bandaged his hands. Let him rest his head on your shoulder when he thought you were asleep.

The first time he touched you on purpose, it was raining. Not hard, but steady, cool droplets slipping from the edge of the school’s awning.

You had both been caught in the downpour walking back from the store. You were soaked, shivering, trying to laugh it off when Su-ho stopped walking and turned to face you.

“You’ll get sick,” he said.

“No worse than usual.”

He hesitated, then reached out.

You felt his fingers graze your cheek. Slowly. Like he was asking permission with every inch.

Then he tucked your damp hair behind your ear.

Your heart stuttered.

“Thanks?” you said, awkward, unsure.

But Su-ho just gave you that look — unreadable, gentle, far too soft for the world he lived in.

That night, you dreamed again. But this time, it wasn’t about him smiling.

It was about him leaning in, resting his forehead against yours, and breathing like he finally felt safe.

—

Weeks passed. The air grew colder. The days shorter.

You found yourself watching Su-ho more and more — not because of how strong he was, but because of how tired he looked when no one else was watching. How much he tried to carry on his own.

And one day, you told him.

"You don’t have to protect everyone alone."

He didn’t look at you.

"You don’t have to protect me alone," you said more softly.

He blinked slowly, as if the words were foreign.

"I know I’m not the strongest,” you continued, “but I want to be there for you. Even if it’s just to hold your hand after a bad day."

He turned then.

His eyes — usually sharp and guarded — looked… wet. Not quite tears. But something close.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he whispered.

“You’re hurting too. Let me share that with you.”

Su-ho stepped forward. You didn’t move.

And then, he reached out — gently, tentatively — and took your hand.

It was cold. Scarred. But it fit perfectly into yours.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

The warmth between your palms said enough.

—

Later that week, you found a folded note in your locker.

No name. Just messy, rushed handwriting:

“You make the world quieter. I think I need that. I think I need you.”

Interested in Part 2?

[speedywizardland]

I feel Su-ho 😪

[speedywizardland]

Title: “His Weakness”

Choi Mujin x Reader

You didn’t know when it started.

The lingering stares. The subtle shifts in his voice when he said your name. The way Choi Mujin, the most powerful and feared man in the criminal underworld, looked at you like you were something fragile in a world made of knives.

You were no one special — at least that’s what you used to believe. Just another soldier in the organization, climbing ranks through grit and silence. But to him, you were different. You were his.

Even if he never said it outright.

You first caught his attention during a job gone wrong. Blood, chaos, and betrayal — all familiar things. But you had stood your ground, eyes steady, hands shaking only once it was over. You hadn’t cried. You hadn’t begged. You had survived. Mujin liked survivors.

But then his interest became something more.

He started assigning you easier missions — ones where you wouldn’t risk your life. You confronted him once.

“I don’t need protection,” you snapped.

His dark eyes flickered, something dangerous underneath. “You do when you're mine.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that.

Over time, his control tightened, not just as your boss — but as a shadow that followed you, quietly watching, intervening when you didn’t even know you were in danger.

Once, a rival gang planted a car bomb under your vehicle. Mujin found out before you even turned the key. He dragged you out, held your face in his bloodied hands, and snarled like an animal.

“I’ll kill every last one of them,” he whispered. “They thought they could touch what’s mine.”

You should’ve been afraid. But instead, your heart beat painfully fast. Not from fear — but from the way he said it, like your name was carved into his bones.

Mujin never admitted it, but the obsession was clear. He watched you like a storm on the horizon — all fury barely held back.

Even the coldest man had a weakness. You were his.

Once, you were kidnapped. It didn’t take long — an ambush, a needle in your neck, and everything went black.

When you woke, Mujin was there. His knuckles raw, shirt soaked in blood that wasn’t his, eyes wild with something deeper than rage. He had burned the warehouse to the ground to get to you. Left no one alive.

He untied you with shaking hands. Not from adrenaline — but from fear.

“I almost lost you,” he said, voice cracking. “You don’t understand. If something happens to you… I lose everything.”

You touched his face gently. “Why me, Mujin?”

His answer was simple.

“Because you made me feel human again.”

From that night on, he never left you alone.

You weren’t allowed on dangerous missions anymore. He bought you an apartment on the top floor of one of his towers, with security that rivaled national leaders. You fought him, screamed even, but deep down… you didn’t hate it.

Because even though his love was twisted, violent, and obsessive — it was also pure.

And in the end, when the entire world turned against him, he would choose you.

Over power.

Over revenge.

Over everything.

Because Choi Mujin may have ruled with blood and fear — but when it came to you?

He was just a man. And you were his only weakness.

[speedywizardland]

Title: "Between Chords and Confessions"

Characters: Ha Ichan x Reader

Genre: Fluff, slow burn, slice of life

The scent of spring always reminded you of music.

It reminded you of long afternoons in the school music room, sunlight pouring through the windows, the warm scent of dust and polished wood—and Ichan, laughing as he messed up another chord on the guitar.

You had been friends for years. The kind of close that didn’t need explanations. From childhood scraped knees to teenage heartaches, he’d always been there. Reliable, golden, frustratingly clueless Ha Ichan.

Today was no different. He was sitting across from you on the park bench, guitar in his lap, trying to figure out a new melody. His brows furrowed, lips slightly pursed in concentration.

You watched him quietly, heart annoyingly loud in your chest.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” he muttered, plucking the same note again. “Like... something’s not clicking.”

You smiled. “Maybe it’s not the song. Maybe it’s the person playing it.”

He looked up, mock-offended. “Are you saying I’m the problem?”

“I’m saying you think too much,” you teased. “Just play what you feel.”

Ichan blinked at you. Then—slowly—he smiled. That soft, genuine smile that always made your chest feel too tight.

So he played.

And this time, the chords came together like magic. Gentle. Sincere. Beautiful. Like spring.

“That’s it,” you whispered, amazed.

He set the guitar down and looked at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “You always know how to fix me.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s what friends are for, right?”

But the word friends tasted bitter now. Not because it was wrong—but because it wasn’t enough.

He studied you for a long moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever feel like we’re... in the middle of something? Like a song that hasn’t ended yet?”

You blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Lately, every time I look at you, I feel like I’m holding back a verse.”

Your breath hitched.

Ichan met your eyes, expression uncharacteristically serious. “Is there something more between us? Or am I just imagining it?”

Your fingers curled into the bench wood, grounding you.

You spoke quietly. “You’re not imagining it.”

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Then his hand reached for yours.

You let him.

For the first time in all the years you’d known him, the silence between you wasn’t filled with unsaid things. It was full of promise.

He squeezed your hand. “I’ve been a little slow, haven’t I?”

You laughed, heart soaring. “Maybe. But the song still ended up beautiful.”

🍉💗🍉

[speedywizardland]

Title: “Every Note is You”

Pairing: Ha Eun-gyeol x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comfort

Warnings: None (just lots of fluff and kissing!)

---

It was one of those rare, golden late spring days when time seemed to slow down.

The sky had spilled open into the softest blue, clouds drifting lazily across it like daydreams. The campus courtyard buzzed with laughter, but for you, the world felt small—in the best way—because it revolved around one person: Ha Eun-gyeol.

Eun-gyeol wasn’t just a musical genius. He was your soft place, your comfort, the one who made your chest warm with a glance and turned ordinary moments into quiet magic.

You sat on a picnic blanket under the biggest tree in the music department’s garden—a place the two of you had quietly claimed as your own. The sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows across his face. His guitar rested in his lap, fingers idly brushing across the strings. He was humming.

You leaned your cheek on your hand and sighed. “Sing for me?”

His lips twitched into a smile, eyes crinkling in that boyish way you adored. “Again?” he teased, already adjusting his fingers into familiar chords.

“Again,” you nodded with mock seriousness. “It’s my favorite.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like wind chimes. “You never get tired of this song.”

“Never,” you said firmly, already pulling your knees to your chest, anticipation curling in your belly.

And then, he began.

“I’m singing… even when I don’t know how the song ends…”

The first notes of “I’m Singing” melted into the air like honey. You watched him closely—his eyes half-lidded with focus, lips curved gently around the lyrics. He always looked the most beautiful when he was singing, as though the music ran through his soul and out into the world.

You felt your heart skip. You weren’t sure when exactly you’d fallen so deeply in love with him—maybe the first time you heard his voice, maybe the first time he looked at you like you were the only melody that mattered.

When he reached the chorus, his gaze found yours.

“Because even silence becomes a song when I’m with you…”

You blinked, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with emotion. The way he sang that line—it was too soft, too tender, too much like a confession.

When the last note lingered, a hush settled between you. It was golden and delicate.

“You wrote that line for me, didn’t you?” you whispered, even though you already knew the answer.

Eun-gyeol looked bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe,” he mumbled, but the redness blooming on his ears gave him away.

You scooted closer, until your knees touched his. “You always sing like you mean it.”

“I do mean it,” he said, voice low and steady now. “Every time I sing for you… it’s a love song.”

Your breath caught.

Then he reached forward, fingers brushing your hair back behind your ear with such care it made your eyes sting. “You’re the reason I even sing at all.”

You smiled, slow and soft, before whispering, “Then kiss me like I’m your favorite lyric.”

He did.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was all kinds of sweet and shy and warm. He kissed like he played music—thoughtfully, with so much emotion it made you dizzy. One hand cradled your cheek, the other still loosely holding his guitar, like he couldn’t bear to let go of either his music or you.

When you finally pulled away, cheeks flushed, he whispered, “You’re everything I want to sing about.”

You giggled, burying your face in his shoulder. “That’s cheesy.”

“You love it,” he said, kissing your temple.

You stayed there like that, wrapped in him, while he began plucking the intro of “I’m Singing” again, slower this time. A lullaby just for you.

That was how your afternoon passed: kisses, laughter, sunlight, and the same song playing over and over, because it was more than a melody—it was your story.

And in Eun-gyeol’s arms, you felt like the most beautiful song in the world.

Hope you like it :)

[speedywizardland]

Title: "The Space Between Us"

Sequel to: “The Enemy’s Hand”

Pairing: Kang Woo Young x Reader

Genre: Slow-burn Romance, Emotional Growth, Hurt/Comfort

Your friendship with Kang Woo Young was unlike anything you’d had before.

It was built on silences and glances more than words. On moments where he stood next to you when others would walk past. On the way his gaze lingered a bit longer, like he was still deciding if you were worth letting in.

But somewhere between quiet stairwells and shared melon bread, it changed.

He wasn’t just your unlikely protector anymore. He became your person.

---

It started with small things.

You noticed how he always walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street. How he waited for you after class even when he pretended not to. How he stopped letting other people talk badly about you—even in passing.

Once, you caught him staring at your hand.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

But the air between you shifted.

---

You invited him to the bookstore one Saturday.

“I don’t read,” he muttered.

“Then stand there and look intimidating while I pick something out.”

He scoffed. But he came.

You watched him browse manga titles while pretending not to care. He didn’t say much, but when you reached for your wallet at checkout, he stopped you.

“I got it.”

“…What? Why?”

“You talked me into coming. Consider it payment.”

“You’re paying me to hang out with you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I’m worth it?”

You blinked. “…Are you flirting with me?”

He didn’t answer.

You thought your heart might combust.

---

That night, you texted him first.

> You don’t have to hide it, you know.

I like you too.

You stared at your screen for five minutes before hitting send.

He didn’t reply right away. You curled up in bed, regretting everything.

But ten minutes later, your phone buzzed.

> I don’t know how to do this.

But I don’t want you with anyone else.

Your chest tightened. You smiled into your blanket.

> Then don’t push me away.

> I won’t.

---

After that, everything changed—but in the smallest ways.

He started walking closer to you. His fingers brushed yours when you stood side by side, and one day, he didn’t pull away.

You found yourself reaching for him too. His hand was rough, calloused, but warm. Familiar.

At school, he was still Kang Woo Young—silent, untouchable, feared. But with you, he was softer.

He let you patch up his cuts, even when he complained. He rested his head on your shoulder once during a quiet afternoon. And when someone looked at you the wrong way, Woo Young’s expression darkened in that terrifying way only he could manage.

But when you looked at him?

He let himself smile.

One evening, on the rooftop after school, you stood with him as the sun dipped below the skyline.

You were quiet for a while. Then:

“Why me?” you asked. “Why did you let me in?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

“You didn’t back down,” he said at last. “Even when I tried to scare you off.”

You turned toward him. “That’s all it took?”

He met your eyes. His voice was lower now. “No. You saw me. Even when I didn’t want to be seen.”

You swallowed hard. “I still do.”

He reached for your hand. Held it.

Then, quietly, “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart skipped.

You nodded.

And in that quiet moment, on a rooftop bathed in gold, the boy who once felt like a storm touched his lips to yours—soft, unsure, but real.

And just like that, the enemy became your everything.

[speedywizardland]

Title: "The Enemy’s Hand"

Pairing: Kang Woo Young x Reader

Genre: Angst → Action → Friendship/Romance

You hated Kang Woo Young.

He was everything you resented—arrogant, cold, ruthless. His fists spoke louder than his words, and his name alone was enough to make anyone nervous. To you, he was the storm that never passed—always looming, always dangerous. And yet, fate had a cruel sense of humor.

You didn’t start at Eunjang expecting to be noticed. You kept your head down, kept your grades up, stayed out of fights. But that didn’t work for long.

One day, you crossed the wrong people.

They cornered you behind the gym after school. Five guys. Laughing, teasing, threatening. You weren’t a fighter. You tried to talk your way out of it, tried to run. One grabbed your arm.

That’s when the fight started.

And that’s when he showed up.

Kang Woo Young.

You don’t know why he was there. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe he was bored. But without a word, he stepped in. One moment, you were bracing for a punch, the next, Woo Young’s elbow crashed into someone’s nose. Bones cracked. Blood splattered.

You’d seen him fight before—brutal, efficient, like he had no fear of pain or consequence. That day was no different. In minutes, the guys were on the ground groaning.

He looked at you like you were an inconvenience.

“You should’ve known better,” he muttered.

You were shaking. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” he said. Then turned to leave.

---

You couldn’t sleep that night.

You kept wondering: Why?

The next day, you caught him behind the school, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone.

“Why’d you help me?” you asked bluntly.

He didn’t look up. “You were about to get hurt.”

“So?”

He finally met your gaze. “So what? You want me to apologize for stepping in?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You didn’t expect him to be annoyed about saving someone.

“You could’ve walked away,” you said.

“I could’ve.” He looked back at his phone. “Didn’t.”

That was the first real conversation you had with him. It wasn’t much. But something shifted.

---

Over time, you kept bumping into him. Not by accident—you started looking. He didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes he’d throw sarcastic comments. Sometimes he ignored you completely. But he never told you to go away.

Once, you found him bandaging his knuckles alone in the stairwell.

“I don’t get you,” you said.

“Good,” he replied. “Stay that way.”

But he didn’t push you away when you sat next to him and offered your water bottle.

---

The turning point came when a fight broke out near the school gates.

You were caught in it again—wrong place, wrong time. Someone shoved you to the ground, and you hit your head. Blood. Blurred vision. And then fists.

It all felt distant—until you heard him.

“Don’t touch her.”

That voice. Cold. Sharp. Kang Woo Young was furious.

You heard the sound of someone choking, the thud of a body hitting pavement. When you blinked your eyes open, Woo Young was crouched in front of you.

“You okay?” he asked, panting, eyes still wild from the fight.

You nodded weakly.

He took your hand, helping you sit up. “Stop getting into trouble.”

“You keep saving me,” you whispered. “Maybe I’m not the only problem.”

He didn’t smile, but the edge of his mouth twitched. “Maybe not.”

---

Weeks passed. You weren’t enemies anymore. You weren’t friends either—not exactly. But you started walking home together sometimes. He called you annoying. You called him emotionally stunted. He gave you half of his melon bread once and acted like it never happened.

It was strange how someone so cold became your warmest presence.

One day, you asked him, “Why are you always alone?”

He looked at you for a long time. “Because it’s easier.”

“You don’t have to be.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t leave either.

And that was enough—for now.

End.

Would you like a sequel where their friendship deepens into romance or something from his perspective?

[speedywizardland]

Sooo, I'm thinking about writing a story with my name. I love this series so much

[speedywizardland]

I LOVE UR FICS

could you do a seong je x reader (they hate each other) where reader is all goody goody in school but one day seong je sees her smoking in a park late at night which he would never have expected.

Title: "Ashes in the Rain"

Pairing: Geum Seong Je x Reader

Geum Seong Je never liked you.

Too bright. Too good. Too fake.

You were always the type to help teachers carry books, to tutor struggling classmates without asking for anything back. The model student. The “nice girl.”

And Seong Je? He was everything you weren’t. Fist fights. Detention. A storm in human form.

You didn’t like him either. How could you? He walked around like he owned the hallways, like he was just waiting for someone to test him. And most people were too scared to try.

So it worked out. You stayed on your side of the moral spectrum, and he stayed on his. You were enemies—not because of any real incident, but because you simply couldn’t exist peacefully in the same room. Oil and water.

Until that day.

The rain was falling hard outside the school gates. Everyone else had gone home, the clouds chasing them into their warm apartments. You stayed behind to finish cleaning duty. The lights in the hallway flickered as you stepped outside, hugging your thin cardigan tighter around your body.

You thought you were alone.

That’s when he saw you.

Seong Je had been leaning against the side wall near the back of the school, hoodie over his head, smoke curling from his lips like a whisper. He’d just lit his third cigarette when he caught a flicker of movement. His eyes narrowed.

You were there.

Under the gray sky, hair damp, your back to him. One hand raised to your lips.

A silver lighter clicked open. Flame flared.

Seong Je froze.

You… were smoking?

He watched as you took a long drag and exhaled, the smoke mingling with the misty rain. Your face looked calm. Too calm. Like you’d done this before. Like it wasn’t a mistake but a routine.

The "good girl" mask slipped. And he saw you for the first time.

You turned around slowly, feeling someone’s eyes on you. When you saw him, your hand jerked slightly—but you didn’t drop the cigarette.

"...What do you want?" you asked, voice flat. Cold. Not like the version of you the rest of the world knew.

He didn’t answer. Just stared.

You sighed and looked away. “Go ahead. Tell the teachers. Won’t be the first time someone’s disappointed in me.”

He walked toward you, slow and deliberate. The rain made soft tapping sounds against his hood.

“You smoke,” he said, like it was a crime.

You laughed—dry, sharp. “And you punch people. We all have our coping mechanisms.”

He tilted his head, eyes scanning your face for a lie. “Why hide it?”

“Why not?” You flicked the ash off the tip, staring at it as it burned low. “It’s easier to let people think you’re perfect. Makes it easier to be alone.”

That caught him off guard. For a moment, the air between you wasn't about who was good or bad. It was just two broken people trying to breathe.

You turned your back again. “If you're gonna judge, get in line.”

But he didn’t. He leaned next to you, pulled out his own pack. You didn’t stop him when he lit one. The silence stretched between you like a thin thread.

Then, unexpectedly, he said, “You’re not what I thought.”

You smiled bitterly. “Neither are you.”

Maybe enemies wasn’t the right word after all.

Maybe it was just a misunderstanding waiting to unravel.

Hope you enjoy reading, like I enjoy writing this :)

[speedywizardland]

🍉 Twinkling Watermelon

Ha Ichan x Reader Fluff Story

It was a summer evening painted with hues of honey-gold and gentle rose, the kind that makes you want to bottle the sky and keep it forever.

You sat beneath the old tree at the edge of the school courtyard, your favorite spot, watching as the wind rustled the leaves like a secret melody. The air smelled of warm grass, distant rain, and something sweeter—like watermelon candy in the sun.

“Hey,” came a soft voice, followed by a familiar chuckle. “I thought I’d find you here.”

You looked up to see Ha Ichan, clutching a small bag in one hand, his eyes glittering like stars as the last rays of sunlight danced across his face. There was always something boyish and gentle about him, as if he lived in a world just a bit softer than everyone else’s.

“I brought something,” he added, kneeling beside you and opening the bag like it held treasure.

Inside was a perfectly halved watermelon, cool and glistening, its pink-red flesh flecked with tiny black seeds. But what caught your eye were the sparkling sugar crystals on top. He’d dusted them like snow, with a little mint leaf in the middle for decoration.

“Twinkling watermelon,” he said proudly. “It’s what my grandma used to make for me during the summer. I thought… maybe we could share it.”

You smiled, heart quietly fluttering. “That’s so cute.”

Ha Ichan blinked, then looked down shyly, brushing hair from his forehead. “You think I’m cute?”

“I said the watermelon was cute,” you teased, biting into the juicy fruit. It sparkled on your tongue like soda pop and sugar dreams. “But I guess you kind of are, too.”

He froze, then laughed softly, his cheeks tinged rose. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep making you things.”

You nudged his shoulder. “Only if you keep calling it ‘twinkling watermelon.’”

Deal sealed in laughter and sugar, you both sat back, watching the sun dip below the horizon, casting stars into the sky one by one.

Somewhere between sweet bites and quiet glances, you realized something:

Ha Ichan’s smile might just be your favorite flavor of summer.

[speedywizardland]

Can you make one of Gotak? something romantic or Idk

Title: "Why Me?"

Pairing: Go Hyun Tak x Reader

Genre: Fluff / Humor / Romance

Word count: ~1,100

You always thought it was kind of funny how Hyun Tak, for all his strength and loyalty, was absolutely hopeless when it came to anything romantic.

Not in the way where he got flustered easily or stumbled over his words—no, Hyun Tak was chill as ever, mouth always half-full of chips or yakgwa, hoodie half-zipped, totally unfazed. The problem was that the concept of someone liking him in that way just didn’t compute in his brain.

Like that time you offered him half your lunch and smiled just a little too sweetly.

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re a really good cook,” he’d said with a wide grin. “You should open a restaurant.”

Or when you waited after school with him in the rain, sharing your umbrella.

“Man, this umbrella’s tiny. You’re getting soaked. You should’ve brought a bigger one.”

Or when you literally told him:

“I like you, Gotak.”

He blinked. “I like you too! You’re awesome. Like, top five people I know.”

Top five. Seriously?

---

So now here you were, sitting with him on the steps behind the school. He was happily munching on something, swinging his legs like a kid.

“I still don’t get it,” he said suddenly. “You really like me? Like, like-like?”

You sighed. “Yes, Gotak. For the hundredth time.”

He squinted, thinking hard. “But why? I’m not smart , and I’m not cool . I just kinda punch stuff and eat snacks.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Yeah, I know. That’s part of the reason.”

He looked at you like you had just told him the moon was made of yakgwa. “Huh?”

“You’re real. You don’t pretend to be something you’re not. You’re kind. You protect your friends. And you’re cute. In a kind of…golden retriever way.”

He choked on his snack. “C-Cute?! Me?!”

You leaned closer. “Mm-hmm.”

Go Hyun Tak’s cheeks went a little pink. He looked away, clearly short-circuiting.

After a moment, he said, “…So, if I’m cute, does that mean you wanna…like…date me?”

“I’ve been trying to for three months,” you deadpanned.

“Ohhh.” He blinked. “Wait. Are we dating now?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Only if you say yes.”

He stared off into the distance, deep in thought.

“…Does that mean I have to share my snacks?”

You reached over and grabbed one anyway. “Yes.”

He watched you eat it and then grinned. “Okay. You can take the ugly ones.”

“Wow, so generous.”

There was a pause.

Then, very gently, he said, “Hey… um… do I have to, like, kiss you now?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Only if you want to.”

He looked at you for a second, then leaned forward quickly and kissed your cheek. It was warm and a little clumsy, and he immediately looked away, ears burning red.

“…Was that okay?” he mumbled.

You smiled, heart doing all sorts of flips. “Yeah. That was perfect.”

---

One Week Later

“Hyun Tak,” you whispered, tugging his sleeve during class.

“Hmm?”

“You have something in your hair.”

He reached up and fished out a potato chip.

“Oh. That’s from earlier.”

You giggled. “You’re such a mess.”

He leaned toward you with a cheeky grin. “Yeah, but I’m your mess now.”

You covered your face, blushing furiously.

And behind you, Ben and Gray exchanged a glance that clearly said, What the hell is going on?

---

END

(Or maybe… just the beginning.) ❤️