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livelaughlovewjungwon · 1 year ago

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Hi my lovely!

This is my first time requesting something bc I've never found the perfect writer until you 🥺💖

How you would feel writing about getting into an argument with Minho, and then how would he make it up after wards 😏

I don't mind if you wanna include said argument or not but I see in my head it takes a toll on reader being upset and Min's just devastated he hurt you so much and wants to do anything to make it up to you by you know 😏 and just a disgusting amount of praise 🙌🤣

Thanks in advance if you do bby 🫶

hi lovely!! So good to hear from you again 🥹🫶

Warning: smut below! mdni.

“The guy was all over you!” Minho shouts, slamming the door behind him as you enter your shared apartment. You toss your keys on the kitchen table, sighing and pulling off your heels.

“Minho, for the last time, he’s a colleague,” you emphasize, averting his cold gaze as he pulls off his blazer and slings it over the back of a chair.

“Yeah, and he acts like that at a work event? Whose idea was it to exchange funny stories between the two of you, anyway? Yours, or his?”

“Does it matter?” You say angrily, making your way up the stairs.

“Yeah, it does! I didn’t have a problem when he interrupted our conversation every two seconds to chime in about how close the two of you are. But then he brought out a gift he got specifically for you? And then the way he kept bringing you drink refills like some waiter?”

“He bought me a stapler, Minho. Because he broke my other one back at the office. And he always brings me coffee on our lunch breaks. It’s his way of paying me back for taking care of some of his reports.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s the only thing he’s paying you back for,” Minho scoffs, regretting the words the minute they leave his mouth.

“What did you say?” You question through gritted teeth, pivoting around at the top of the stairs to look at him.

“Nevermind,” Minho replies, waving you off.

“What are you implying? That I’m hooking up with him? You really think that low of your own girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,” Minho replies, throwing his hands in the air frustratedly. “I leave you alone with one guy and this is how you act with him. I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

The initial statement hurt you- but hearing Minho double down on it sends a wave of pain through you. Minho’s always been a little jealous, growing particularly insecure when you drag him to work events alongside your colleagues, especially with you working in such a male-dominated field. He’s always a little skeptical of bartenders, he hates most of your guy friends and he despises your exes. So his behavior coming out of your work gathering isn’t too surprising- but accusing you of sleeping with your colleague is a new low for him. Despite his jealous tendencies, he’s never insinuated that he believed anything unfolded between you and another man. You wonder briefly what it is about Chan that gets him so jealous he’d go so far as to accuse you of cheating.

And Minho’s had his fair share of being surrounded by pretty girls. He used to work in a bar for christ’s sake, serving freshly-turned-21 year olds in club dresses all night. Sure, it definitely did make you a little jealous when you’d visit his bar and watch young girls flirt with him the same way you did when you first met him. But you’d never question Minho’s loyalty, attributing the occurrences as a natural part of his hard working job that he left every day to still choose his girlfriend every time.

“Okay, maybe not hooking up, per se,” Minho huffs in an attempt to backtrack. But you’ve already heard him loud and clear, and you know exactly what he’s already implied.

“You’re so unfair,” you say to him, tears pricking your eyes as you look down at him from the stair banister. “I would never do that to you, and you know that.”

Minho blinks nervously, saying nothing as you finally retreat to your bedroom and lock the door behind you. The sheets are promptly thrown over your head as lay in your bed and cry- both frustration and heartache quickly overtaking you. And Minho doesn’t follow you upstairs, feeling it’s best to give you space from him right now.

Two hours later, Minho still hasn’t spoken to you. You’re not sure if he’s even home, the apartment feeling eerily quiet as you lay in a catatonic state on the bed. You’ve never fought with Minho like this before- he’s always been the one to de-escalate arguments before they got past the typical bickering. But now you both haven’t spoken, both haven’t apologized and you certainly haven’t worked out whatever it is that’s making him so upset.

Near the three-hour mark, there’s a subtle knock at the bedroom door. Your heartbeat quickens at the thought of seeing Minho, silently praying you don’t lash out because of how angry you still are. But you comply anyway, slipping out from under the covers to open the door and finally face him again.

“Hi,” Minho says sheepishly, his hands shoved in his pockets. He’s still dressed up from your work event in black slacks and a black button down, a puffer jacket thrown over his top like he’s just gotten home again.

“Hey,” you say, averting his gaze and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. Minho’s expression softens when you do, visibly feeling guilty for having caused you pain.

“There’s coffee and cheesecake downstairs,” Minho says, cocking his head toward the door. It’s always your shared tradition after stressful events together- vanilla cheesecake and americanos while you gossip about the people you’re forced to bond with. And usually Minho happily complies, never seeming threatened by your friends or colleagues, but tonight, there must’ve been something bigger eating away at him.

“I’m sorry,” Minho says, towering over you with a guilty expression. “I took it too far.”

“I would never cheat on you,” you say, a hint of frustration still evident in your tone. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of that.”

“I didn’t think you cheated,” he clarifies. “I would never think that.”

“Then why’d you imply it?”

“Because I’m jealous,” Minho says with a deep exhale. “Every time I go to your work events it’s just a sea of good-looking smart men and you get to be around them every day. I want so badly to be that for you, and I’m just not.”

“You’re right,” you say, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “You’re not that. Because you’re better. You really think I want to be dating the boring men in finance who have the personality of a brick wall? I’m with you, because you’re the one that I want. You make me laugh and you’re crazy talented at what you do, and if I could have lunch with you every day at work you know I would choose to. Chan’s just some colleague. There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

Minho gives you a small nod, feeling the pit in his chest loosen as you comfort him with your words. He knows it, too, that you’d never cheat on him or betray his trust. But he can’t help it when the feeling of inadequacy takes over his mindset. He moved here from the suburbs, after all, to be here with you in the city, but there’s always the drowning feeling that he’s not good enough for neither the city, nor you.

Minho opens his arms, coaxing you into his warm embrace, which you gladly fall into, letting his muscular arms wrap around you and rub little circles on your back.

“I’m sorry,” Minho says again. “I really am.”

“I know,” you respond, knowing that although Minho is generally pretty short-spoken when it comes to apologies, he always does mean it. As he holds you in his embrace, you feel your stress dissipate in his touch, quickly replaced again by the butterflies and unwavering love you always have for him.

“Are you gonna let me make it up to you?” Minho asks with a small smile, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“You mean with cheesecake?” You question teasingly, though you know very well what he’s implying.

“Not quite,” he replies, snaking his hands down to your waist and grazing his fingertips along your skin. And before you can answer, his hands lower themselves behind your thighs, hoisting you up into his strong arms and carrying you to the bed.

You giggle into the crook of his neck, both your harmonious laughs filling the room as he lays you down and leans in to kiss you passionately. You can taste his apology in the way he kisses you so breathlessly, and feel his apology in the way his hands eagerly grasp at your skin like he might lose you. His lips work their way down your neck, peppering your collar bones in generous nibbles before working his way back up and giving repeated kisses against your parted mouth.

“Minho,” you call suddenly, tangling your hands in his hair. He pulls away momentarily to caress your cheek with his thumb as he listens to you speak.

“I can’t believe you’d ever think for a second that I could replace you.”

He says nothing, simply smiling down at you and kissing you once again. Your hands quickly find his belt, undoing his buckle and discarding it on the floor as he continues to kiss you, small groans escaping his lips as you palm him over his slacks.

Your hand rests atop his clothed crotch, firmly holding his hardening cock in your hand and moving in gentle massaging motions as he works kisses down your neck again and winces at the pleasure. When he pulls away, he undoes the buttons of his slacks, tugging his pants down to his knees pulling them off of himself. At the same time, you pull off your pajama bottoms, tossing them aside and attaching your hands back to his waist to assist with removing his boxers.

Your hands eagerly tug his boxers below his crotch, smiling against him as he gasps in anticipation at the sensation of his now fully-erect cock growing against his abdomen. Minho’s hand parts your legs for him, propping up your thigh so he has better access to your already soaking pussy. His fingers latch on to your clit, working little circle motions as he kisses you again and groans, his cock resting against your entrance below him.

Small gasps escape your lips as he works you, your legs wrapping around him to push him further against you, the tip of his cock grazing your entrance with every small movement. Minho gasps in pleasure, breath hitching in the back of his throat as he continues to tease your clit.

Your hands desperately snake down to palm his cock again, giving the base a little squeeze and emitting a deep moan from him. He finally gives in to your desperation, dragging you a little closer to him by your thighs and pumping his cock over you gently, inserting just the tip as he leans in to kiss you again.

“Fuck, Min…” you whimper, adjusting your thighs around him. “Put the whole thing in.”

And he chuckles against you, kissing you to pacify your pleas as he pulls out and then ruts into you with much more force, bottoming out quickly as your cunt takes him well.

“So good,” Minho breathes out, kissing you a little rougher as he begins to move. He thrusts in and out of you at a steady pace, holding you down against the bed with one hand on your waist as you arch up into him. Little moans begin to escape your lips as you feel him hit the one spot that drives you crazy, the way he always does when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you. You never fail to forget just how big he is, stretching you out generously with every thrust and reaching your cervix with ease.

“God, you’re made for me, baby,” Minho says, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck, pulling him into you as he moves a little faster now, your pussy contracting around his pulsing cock as he loses himself in you.

“I’m sorry,” he then says, pulling away to lock his gaze on yours. You stare up at him with arched eyebrows, barely able to form a sentence as he continues to fuck you through his words.

“I know,” you breathe, massaging the back of his neck with your shaky fingers.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he says again, burying his face in the crook of your neck and placing a series of chaste kisses.

“You’re so good to me, baby. I never should’ve taken it that far. You’re perfect. I’m so sorry.”

“It was just a stupid fight,” you say in a trembling voice. “That’s all.”

He kisses you again, trailing his hands up and down the sides of your waist as he fucks you a little harder now.

“Can you blame me for getting jealous? Fuck, baby, you drive me crazy. You take my cock so well. You’re so smart and you’re so fucking sexy. God, you’re the coolest person I know.”

You chuckle against his lips, wrapping your legs lightly around his waist and moaning when you feel him twitch inside of you. His cock pulsates rhythmically with every thrust now, desperate for release as your hands graze his back.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so good.” he says against your lips, groaning as he grinds desperately into your cunt now, squelching sounds echoing in the room around you.

“You’re all mine,” he says, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. “Only I get to fuck you like this, baby. Can’t believe you’re mine. I’m so fucking lucky.”

And with a few more eager thrusts, he spills his seed into you, filling up your soaking cunt with his cum and making a mess on the sheets below you. You reach your release shortly after, gushing your release with his and clutching onto his muscular back as he catches his breath. As his thrusts slow, you sit up to watch him pull out of you, your cunt painted in white spurts of his arousal.

“Stay there,” Minho says, back up on the bed and catching his breath. “I’ll be right back.”

When Minho returns, he balances two slices of vanilla cheesecake in one hand, and two cups of americano in the other.

You smile at him as you crawl back into bed beside him, already having cleaned up and changed out the sheets for the night. Minho sits up against the headboard, pulling you on to his lap and placing a plate in your hands.

As you take your first spoonful, Minho’s hands caress your inner thighs lovingly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he watches you eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says for the umpteenth time tonight. “I was really stupid.”

“You know, Minho,” you say, licking your spoon clean of its remnants. “Sometimes I think you forget how crazy in love with you I am.”

He snakes his hands around your waist, massaging your stomach gently in his embrace and replaying your words in his head.

“Well I must’ve forgotten pretty badly today,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Then I’m not gonna let you forget it again,” you respond, intertwining your hand with his. “So I’ll just have to remind you.”

“Yeah?” He queries, giving your hand a little squeeze.

“Yeah,” you reply, bringing his hand up to your lips. “I love when you make love to me. And I love your cooking. I love your stupid jokes- and don’t even get me started on how hot you are.”

Minho laughs loudly, pressing another series of kisses to your shoulder. “Keep going,” he says with a small smirk.

“I love the scar on your chest, and the little freckle on your nose. And I love that you’re all mine.”

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livelaughlovewjungwon · 1 year ago

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boy best friend!lee know smut where it starts with the classic zipping up your dress please!!

Warning: smut below! mdni.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay going out tonight?” Minho asks as you gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail and hold it aside.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, watching him through the mirror in front of you as he grasps the little zipper on your black dress, zipping it up slowly and smoothing down the straps for you.

“Thanks,” you reply, turning around to face him now. He wears a serious expression on his face, casually dressed to stay in for the night as you prepare for your date.

“What’s his name again?” Minho says, cocking his head a little.

“Hyunjin. The one I met at some work event.”

“The painter?”

“Yeah,” you say, surprised he even remembers.

But of course Minho remembers, because he’s kept track of every single guy you’ve gone out with for most of your friendship now. He knows their social media handles, he double checks your location at nighttime and he’s even interrogated a few of them to make sure they weren’t as suspicious as you made them sound. And he silently prays that you’ll come to your senses at some point, realizing it’s him you’re in love with, and that maybe your best friend has been the right one all along.

You, on the other hand, are well aware of Minho’s crush on you at this point. He’s made it painfully obvious, fighting men who openly flirt with you and questioning every person you text or call. His gaze lingers on you for a little too long, his eyes lighting up when you get close to him or brush against him. And maybe you feel butterflies around him, too, these days. But you’re also still averse to the idea of dating your best friend- if things haven’t been romantic for all those years, why would they start now?

Minho chuckles a little bit, shaking his head and averting his gaze from yours.

“What?” You question, chuckling too, at his reaction.

“I don’t know what it is you see in these random men.”

There it is.

“It’s just a date,” you affirm, shrugging. “We don’t have to get married. If it works, then it works. If not, there’s plenty others.”

“Why wouldn’t you just wait until you find one that does work? Why go out with someone random every week?”

“It’s fun,” you echo back to him, now meeting his worried expression.

“You came home crying from one just last week. The one before that made you pay for dinner. And this Hyunjin guy sounds like he thinks he’s the next Banksy.”

You can’t help but laugh at his comments, amused at how Minho’s trying so badly to avoid confessing his own feelings. It’s a little pathetic, watching him hint at it like this, but you know very well what he’s getting at.

“Maybe the right guy hasn’t come around yet,” you say finally, holding eye contact with him. He blinks a few times, eyes flickering down to your lips and back up to your gaze, lost for what to say. But his pounding heartbeat in his chest urges him to say something, anything, in hopes that you’ll take the hint. And the words slip out before he can debate even saying them.

“Maybe the right guy has been in front of you all along.”

And for some reason, your chest flutters at practically this admission from him, your thoughts racing with images of you and him, your best friend, desperately kissing each other and ending this year-long bout of feigning your chemistry with him. Even you’re lost at what to say, your lips parting and then closing again, swallowing your words every time they start to form.

“I don’t know if you’re just playing dumb,” Minho begins, his eyes scanning yours intensely. “Or you genuinely just can’t tell how badly I want to kiss you right now.”

And you do know it, but you also play dumb, entertaining his little game like it’ll somehow simmer down the sexual tension between the two of you. And yet still, hearing the words makes you feel dizzy, conflicted on whether to act on your emotions or keep them at bay like you try to do. There’s nothing you can say in response to him, your eyes locked on his parted lips now, too, eager to pull him close and kiss him.

And although you know this will change things moving forward, that’s exactly what you do.

Two hands cup his face, bringing him closer to you as you finally press your lips on his and kiss him passionately, Minho wasting no time gliding his tongue across your lips. His big hands cup the small of your back, desperately pushing you closer up against him like he’ll lose you if he lets go. And then in one swift movement, he’s spinning you around again, forcing your gaze on the mirror in front of you as he works needy kisses down your neck.

“We make sense together,” Minho breathes, groaning as you reach a hand up to tangle in his hair.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about this, too. Thought about what’d it be like to have me all over you like this. God, the things I wanna do to you,” he groans again, his kisses transitioning to gentle sucking motions along your flesh.

“I don’t…” you start to say, losing your train of thought as he slides one strap of your dress down and sucks the skin on your shoulder there.

“I know you,” Minho says, fixing your gaze on him in the mirror. “Don’t lie. I see the way you look at me, too. You’ve been playing this little game for so long and I let you have your fun. Now let me make you feel good.”

You shiver at his words, desperately reaching for his hand when he trails his fingers along the hem of your skirt and flips it up, revealing your already soaking panties for him. With a smirk plastered on his face, his hand snakes down inside your panties, two fingers working themselves along your clit in little circle motions. You gasp instantly at the contact, clenching around nothing as he watches your reactions in the mirror and smiles when little moans begin to escape your lips.

“You’re dripping for me,” Minho says curiously, moving his fingers a little faster. Your clit pulsates against his fingers, your hips instinctively grinding up against him to chase the friction.

“You’re so good,” you say breathlessly, squirming in his touch. His hands hold you steady, one hand reaching up to force your gaze in the mirror again. “Will you put one in?”

“Of course I can,” Minho chuckles wickedly. “Didn’t think I’d have you begging for my fingers so fast.”

“Fuck… you…” you huff in his grasp, your panting turning to pornographic moans as he slides a finger in and begins to fuck you with it.

“I’m trying to,” Minho replies, pressing a wet kiss to your neck and picking up the pace. You moan desperately for him, little pleads escaping your lips so he’ll make you finish faster. And as he feels you start to contract around his fingers, he pulls out again, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, pressing your thighs together for some sense of relief.

“Relax,” Minho says with a chuckle, pulling down his sweatpants and letting them pool at his ankles with his boxers. “I just want you to finish on my cock.”

You swallow nervously at his words; it’s not a surprise that he wants to fuck you, but all of a sudden you’re aware that your best friend since college is about to have sex with you- right here in your living room, when you’re supposed to be leaving for a date in ten minutes.

Though the thought of it also arouses you, it excites you inexplicably to think about having sex with him, finally ridding yourself of the sexual tension you’ve been repressing for years. All the times you’ve wondered when he looked like when he jerked off in his dorm room, all those times you’ve caught him staring relentlessly at your body in a bikini or a short dress.

The feeling of his hardened cock against your flesh interrupts your thoughts, and you’re reminded again of what’s about to happen.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, pumping the base of his cock behind you a few times. “I’m not doing this if you don’t feel the same.”

“No, please,” you whimper, intertwining your hand with his vacant one. “Please I’ve thought about this for so long.”

“Oh, really?” He says, smugness all over his teasing tone.

“Yeah,” you reply boldly, arching your back to give him better access. “Sometimes I touch myself to you.”

“Fuck,” Minho says, angling his cock at your entrance. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy.”

You whimper again, giving his hand a little squeeze and begging for him to put it in. And with a few more pumps over you, he finally obliges, slipping into your sopping cunt and giving you a gentle thrust. His hands snake down to grasp yours, intertwining your fingers together as he leans down to press a series of wet kisses to the crook of your neck.

“Tell me more,” Minho says, now pumping into you at a slow, but steady pace. “Tell me what you think about.”

“Ah- fuck,” you breathe out, groaning when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

“That night we went to that wedding,” you utter between gasps. “And you wore that suit.”

“The black one?” He smiles against your skin.

“With the black tie- god, Minho!” You gasp. “I thought about you fucking me on every table in the reception hall. I think I broke my vibrator cumming to the thought of it.”

“Jesus, baby,” Minho says with a chuckle, his cock twitching inside of you. “That’s so hot.”

Your heart flutters at the use of pet names, clenching down on his cock as he thrusts into you, squelching noises filling the room around you.

“Even your cologne turns me on,” you continue, mascara pooling under your eyes now from being so fucked-out in pleasure. “Everything about you turns me on.”

“Oh really?” Minho says again with a grin, snaking a hand around your neck and pumping faster into you.

“I’ll let you go on your little date,” he says, the sound of slapping skin almost drowning out his talking. “But you’re not gonna forget who fucked you like this.”

“No, please,” you say, eyebrows arching up in pleasure as his hand snakes back down to your clit. “I don’t want to go with him. I just want to stay here with you. Please, fuck me harder, Min.”

With a satisfied smile, Minho complies with your begging, now rutting into you with full force and letting the tip of his cock hit your cervix with every thrust. You can’t talk anymore, too overtaken by pleasure to string together a coherent sentence as he fills you up so fully. Pornographic moans now circle the room, the neighbors likely catching on to what you’re doing. But you can’t care about anything else right now except for his cock and his veiny hands on your flesh.

“Min, I’m so close,” you say, arching further back into him.

“I know,” he says, well aware of the way you’re pulsating rhythmically around his length now. “I’ve got you. Be a good friend and cum for me.”

His moans fill your ears as he nears his orgasm too, lips parting beautifully against your skin as he sucks the bruises he already left.

And then with a few last hard thrusts, Minho spills his milky white cum into you, fucking the remainder into your sensitive cunt as you clench around him and dribble your own release on his cock.

“God,” he says, groaning as he pulls out and steadies his breathing. “That was so much better than I imagined it.”

Minho leaves momentarily to clean himself off, you doing the same, and then returning to the living room. He returns to find you staring at your appearance in the mirror, covered in bruises, your hair disheveled and your makeup running down your face.

When he approaches you, you turn around to look up at him, feeling the familiar butterflies in your stomach as he towers over you and grazes a finger over your lips.

“Are you going?” He asks in a gentle tone, and you blink up at him innocently.

“Can we do that again?” You ask, an almost dazed look in your eyes as you wait for his response. You can’t help it, desperate to feel his cock inside you all over again, his lips on your flesh and the pet names.

Minho chuckles lightly at your words. “We can do that as many times as you want,” he says over you. “But you have to let me take you on a date first.”

“Deal,” you say quickly, the both of you no stranger to outings together, just the two of you.

And as he leans in to kiss you gently again, you realize his words ring very true- maybe the right one was in front of you all along.

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livelaughlovewjungwon · 1 year ago

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how you can help palestine

*i regularly update this post with any new info i find so please always reblog the original post*

Donations

palestine children's relief fund

palestine red crescent society

help bring down israel's weapon trade - palaction

save palestine - islamic relief canada

click to donate - arab.org

send medical supplies to gaza - palestinian american medical association

NOTE: journalists based in gaza are saying that donations are not going to help atm. what will help is a demand for ceasefire. so please contact your local MPs every single day demanding as such. palestine need a ceasefire right now, not money (i will update when monetary help is needed)

if you want to donate, do this instead:

help buy e-sims for people in gaza (as it stands, there are enough e-sims purchased for now. i will let you know once they need donations again. if you would like to stay updated, please follow @/Mirna_elhelbawi on twitter)

Petitions

petition to investigate war crimes committed by israeli military

demand ceasefire - amnesty.org

open call for immediate ceasefire

american government call for immediate ceasefire

american government to stop funding israeli military

ceasefire and increase humanitarian assistance - oxfam au

petition to get canva to address their pro-israel stance

they have been deleting private pro-palestine posts

location specific petitions

gaza call for ceasefire - oxfam (UK)

end israeli occupation - parliament uk (UK)

email your MP - medical aid for palestine (UK)

stop fuelling genocide - action network (USA)

ceasefirenow.com - jewishvoiceofpeace (USA)

call congress and demand a ceasefire - uscpr (USA - they provide a script of what you should say, so don't worry about it)

note: you can call everyday. they tally the number of calls per issue. so more calls = higher chance for them to take action. p.s. you mainly go to voicemail so don’t worry about phone call anxiety. fight through it just this once please.

australia call on israel to stop attacking palestinians - apan (AUS)

sign to send letter to MP for ceasefire - nccm (CANADA)

ceasefire now! - ijv (CANADA)

cessez-le-feu et un couloir humanitaire - le mouvement (FRANCE)

write to your député - assemblée nationale (FRANCE)

skydda civilbefolkningen i gaza! - mittskifte (SWEDEN)

singaporeans call for immediate ceasefire (SIN)

contact your elected reps and demand a ceasefire (GERMANY)

write to the EU demanding a ceasefire (EUROPE)

template of letters you can send (EU)

guide on how to contact your MPs in EU

multiple actions you can take to help palestine - plant een olifbloom (NETHERLANDS)

includes: links for donations, emails to MP, emails to media, links to petitions and demonstrations

den haag, maak nú werk van vrede in israël/Palestina - the right forum (NETHERLANDS)

Campaigns

friends of al-aqsa

❥ UK-specific

urge your MP to speak up for palestine

hands off al-aqsa

stop administrative detention

petition for UK to stop arming israel

❥ International

boycott puma — email them to end their partnership with israel

boycott coca-cola

palestine action

join the resistance

islamic relief canada

urge your MP to rally for ceasefire

decolonise palestine

poster campaign to raise awareness on the war crimes being committed against palestinians | (very very important please share + read the sources provided)

text/call campaign for people living in USA

text CEASEFIRE @ 51905 to call for a ceasefire

text RESIST @ 50409 to send a letter to your representatives to pass HR3103–a bill that prohibits tax dollars from going to israel

download 5Calls app to contact members of your congress | (more info)

BDS movement

get involved in boycotting companies associated with israel

please let me know if you have any more links. i will add them in. and please reblog the original post!!

UPCOMING PROTESTS

PALESTINIAN LITERATURE READING LIST

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livelaughlovewjungwon · 1 year ago

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it’s just…

PAIRING... skater!niki x skater!reader | GENRE... figure skating! au, romance, angst, fluff, unconditional love? | WC... 0.6k | “it’s just what?”

“congratulations on another wonderful performance and win! you guys have been dominating the couples skate for years now even though you’re still so young, how do you feel?”

your partner’s arm around you tightens a bit as he stares into the camera, leaning into the mic. the sweat fresh from coming off the ice gleams on his forehead and you stare at his side profile, resisting the urge to wipe a drop running down the side of his cheek.

still breathing heavily, he manages to sport a bright grin.

“yeah, well, i think the fans will be happy. we worked really hard, and i hope the performance shows that.” he glances down at you as you smile back up at him.

“i think we’re both satisfied. i’m proud of y/n too, as always.”

your smile grows a bit at that.

you and niki had been partners for over six years now, having essentially grown up together. you think you’ve spent more time with niki on the ice than you have at home with your family.

but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

you respected him immensely, trusted him entirely, and you knew he felt the same. the fans could see it too.

it showed in every interaction, every performance. you two were naturally close and friendly, so the shipping that came along with it was expected. no one could deny your chemistry.

after the interview finishes, you and niki finish up with pictures of you with your medals. he even picks you up and spins you around as you laugh, beaming at your expression.

when you finally get a moment to rest, he ruffles your hair. “good job today. i’m proud of you.”

you shove his hand away playfully, “you worked hard too. did you want to grab some food before we get back to the hotel? i’m kinda hungry and you know-“

you glance at niki to see him typing away on his phone. you poke his cheek.

“hm? yeah?”

you cross your arms and huff as he sheepishly squeezes your side as an apology.

“i said, did you want to get some food? coach said we don’t have any more schedules, so we should be free…”

niki bites his lip. “sorry, i already have some plans. but i’ll meet you back at the hotel?”

you frown. since when did he ever not want to spend time with you?

“alright, see you later.”

you end up passing out back at the hotel and don’t see niki until the next day for practice. it goes smoothly as usual, but he seems a little off.

it’s not until your coach calls break when you nudge him, skating in circles around him like an animal surrounding their prey.

“what’s up with you?”

“what do you mean?

you raise an eyebrow, taking his hands and pulling him along. “you know what i mean, so spill.”

he sighs heavily, “i wanted to wait until we got home, but…”

“but?”

“I think i’m gonna go out with haerin.”

you stop. and slowly let go of his hands.

“oh.”

“it’s nothing serious for now,” he adds hastily, “we’re just getting to know each other.”

“no, no, of course,” you mumble while collecting your thoughts.

“it’s just-“

“its just what?” niki perks up almost immediately like he was anticipating your response with a glint in his eyes.

“nothing.” you smile flatly. “i was just surprised.”

it certainly seemed out of the blue. it wasn’t that you minded—niki could date whoever he liked. you guys were just professional partners and always had been.

but why does something feel so wrong?

a/n ▸ happy happy halloween (if you celebrate it)👻 ☺️to be continued…. hehe the rest are already planned so keep a look out ;)

part 1/4 | next.

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @kynrki @heesterical @jungwonize @rerequire @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii @love-4-keum @nyanggk @luvhyun3 @dimplewonie @yjjungwon @flwrshee @who-tf-soddhi

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livelaughlovewjungwon · 1 year ago

Text

on my mind.

PAIRING... skater!niki x skater!reader | GENRE… figure skating! au, romance, angst, fluff, unconditional love.? | WC... 0.6k | “please, let me know what’s wrong.”

you don’t care that niki spends a lot more time with his girlfriend.

you don’t care that all of your fans are in denial and still ship the two of you together.

you don’t care that haerin posts even more of her and niki online in response to said fans.

what you do care about is the change. the change in your practices, your dynamic, your relationship with niki.

you can’t just hug him whenever you want. you can’t borrow any of his clothes when you forget your own. you can’t be truly yourself around him anymore, constantly holding yourself back.

you knew your relationship wasn’t exactly normal, but it worked. it’s what gave you guys years of success and what you thought would last.

but you miss his playful pranks, his sweet hugs, and most of all, the look of pure affection in his eyes. it’s not that he wouldn’t, that he didn’t want to. niki would do anything you asked in a heartbeat. but you knew with his girlfriend and being in a relationship, it couldn’t be the same.

you missed your friend. both on and off the ice.

so much to the point where you actually stalked the two of you online. for the first time, you let outside influence get to you.

you were surprised by the amount of support for the two of you (and the most random ship names and edits).

all the photos, videos of your performances, and the old comments niki used to post on your posted photos— always borderline romantic but something you two always brushed off as platonic—it all came back.

if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two of you were madly in love as well.

but you did. and the two of you probably never would be.

so you call it a day and make a promise to never look up your name with his again.

you surely kept that promise, until the next morning pre-practice you couldn’t help but see your phone blow up.

all the links and posts people were tagging you in didn’t help.

even worse was seeing articles online stating that nishimura riki was reportedly leaving you to partner up with his current girlfriend, kang haerin.

your coach greets you with a smile, clapping her hands. “let’s get to work! where’s niki?”

you shrug, right as you hear scuffling onto the ice.

“sorry i’m late,” niki’s breathless voice makes you swallow. “lost track of the time.”

you (clearly) already knew what he was doing and who he was with.

still, you avoid his gaze. during warm up you barely speak to him, and of course he notes it.

after an awkward and silent practice, your coach leaves the two of you alone. almost like she knew there was something going on with the tension between you.

after every performance—most practices even—niki would hug you and press a kiss to your temple. it was a habit, a good luck charm and a warm goodbye until the next day.

but this time you start to leave before he even gets the chance to. niki catches up to you, taking your hand.

“hey, what’s going on?” you dislike how concerned he sounds.

“i don’t know, shouldn’t you know?” you coolly respond to your partner.

“i don’t. could you please tell me dear?”

you ignore him—his term of affection was not going to work on you this time.

niki was so stubborn. and so were you. ever since the first day you guys were assigned partners and were obviously not happy, he was stubborn. it took a long time to get the both of you to warm up to each other.

so he takes your other hand, grip tight so you’re forced to face him.

he calls out your name. “please, let me know what’s wrong.”

you sigh. why was seeing him everyday, always having to act like this, so tiring now?

you let go of his hands, looking down at the ice as your blade scrapes up bits and pieces.

“niki, we need to talk.”

a/n ▸ i did not expect this much love and support on this miniseries so thank you guys 😭😭insert are you ready for this in wendy’s voice during zimzalabim intro

part 2/4 | previous. | next.

@kflixnet

series tag list ▸ @en-chantedtomeetyou @czlluvriki @berry-and-kkami @jungsunkiggfhffr @wzy3ka @fakeuwus @k1ttylvr @beomsbeanie @geraldsmochi @ohsjy @jend3uki @enhalovie @sweet-kisses-and-bloody-screams @haechansbbg @mini-garden-won @enhastolemyheart @seyoran @kyanmeai @june-pop

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@paleegggoopstatesman @contyynishimura

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livelaughlovewjungwon · 1 year ago

Note

dom!lee know who gets pussy drunk easily pls!!

Warning: smut below! mdni.

“God, it’s so fucking good,” Minho groans against your flesh, smiling as he pulls away for a moment to catch his breath.

He’s been eating you out for the better part of two hours now, lapping lazily at your folds and repeating the cycle of making you cum, licking you clean and then stimulating you to your release over and over again. Your legs are parted in front of him, laying back on your shared bed, knees aching from being propped up for so long and clamping around his pretty face.

“Minho,” you groan, shivering as he leans back in to graze his chin against you.

“What is it, baby?” He queries teasingly, knowing very well that you’ve been so good for him tonight, never denying him his insatiable desire to taste you until all he can think about is your pussy, gushing juices at the sensation of his tongue all over you, satisfying his craving to consume all of you, and then doing it all over again.

“Can’t,” you breathe out with a tired chuckle, gasping when you feel him dribble another wad of saliva on your sensitive clit and bring it down to your entrance with his tongue.

“You can, baby,” he replies with a grin, pressing a series of kisses to your aching clit before taking your bundle of nerves between his teeth and sucking harshly.

You let out a desperate moan at the sensation, your clit feeling as though it might go numb if he keeps at it like this. But Minho just smiles with your flesh between his teeth, amused at how you’re trembling for him, unsure of whether you’re begging for release or a break from the pleasure.

“Please,” you groan, your legs pressing together around his face eagerly. His hands rest on your knees, parting them again so he has full access to your soaking cunt, pushing his face against you deeper.

“God, this fucking pussy, baby,” Minho groans, his tongue wagging gently back and forth over your folds again. “So wet for me.”

He hardly has to touch you to stimulate you now, his heavy panting against your pussy serving as a form of stimulation in itself.

“Too much,” you plead, emitting another breathy chuckle as he presses a series of kisses at your entrance. And it is too much, but you’re trembling around his face now, your body close to cumming for him yet again- at this point, it’s a futile task to ask him to stop.

“I know you can take it, baby,” Minho replies, shutting his eyes as he relishes in the salty taste of your arousal. His eyelashes flutter gently with every movement of his mouth, grazing his sharp cheekbones that glisten under the dim lighting of your bedroom, wet with your arousal from your first six, or maybe seven orgasms. You’ve lost count at this point, clenching around nothing as his tongue continues to work you, the orgasms washing over you involuntarily by now. Your body is far too listless to warn him verbally now, just a series of soft moans and eager gasps serving as confirmation that you’re about to finish. And Minho knows you well, paying careful attention to the way your eyebrows arch up in pleasure, aware that he’s found the angle that drives you crazy again. His tongue stops momentarily along the side of your clit, grazing it with gentle breaths as you arch up into his face again.

“Right there,” you gasp, and Minho smiles when you oblige to let him work you to your release again. He knows very well that if he grazes his face along your cunt long enough, he can coax another shaky orgasm out of you. And that’s exactly what he does, outlining your clit with the tip of his tongue and watching as you writhe desperately under his touch.

You say nothing to him, simply letting a series of fervent moans vocalize your release to him. And he opens his eyes when you reach your finish, his cold gaze locked on yours as you desperately grasp at the sheets below you, gushing another load of cum onto his swollen lips. Minho chuckles into your sopping cunt, the vibrations sending more trembles up your body as you arch in overstimulation.

“Gonna lick you clean again,” Minho says, and you whimper at the implication. But before you can even prepare yourself, his tongue is flat against your pussy again licking a long stripe up from your entrance to your clit, the sensation making you yelp, shaking in oversensitivity and eagerly grasping below you for something to steady yourself. The second one is stronger than the first, his tongue remaining latched to your clit for a few moments before wagging gently back and forth, cleaning your swollen bud of your arousal.

“Ah- Minho!” You practically shout, and your hips are promptly pinned against the mattress by his skillful hands.

“Almost done,” breathes out, trailing wet kisses in attempts to soothe your sensitive pussy before licking another stripe. His eyes are hooded, completely clouded with desire for you- to taste you, to relish in possibly your eighth orgasm of the night as a result of his lustful drunken state.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” Minho groans, pressing a few more chaste kisses against your skin before finally coming up for a breath. Your legs steady themselves flat on the bed with shaky tremors as he crawls over you to kiss your arousal back on to your tongue, trailing gentle nibbles down the side of your neck and grazing his fingers gently across your skin.

“You did so well for me,” Minho says, massaging your inner thigh with his slender fingers. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll give you another one in an hour.”

And you shiver delightfully at his words, the action sounding much too bold right now, but your body aching in anticipation nonetheless. You could stay here like this all day- letting him taste you repeatedly, finishing for him over and over again.

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livelaughlovewjungwon · 1 year ago

Text

only kisses

pairing: jake x afab reader

genre: smut (minors dni)

you could feel the tension in the air as he scooted closer to you in the guest room. his hand reached for yours as he slowly brought it up to his plush lips, kissing your knuckles, and never breaking eye contact. his eyes begging you for permission to keep going.

he had been waiting for some alone time with you all day, he was noticeably antsy. although this trip with all of his favorite people was exciting, he couldn’t wait to have you all to himself, this excited him the most.

“jake, we can’t. i don’t want anyone to hear.” you whispered, trying to fight how weak you were becoming under his touch. you stood up to try and get away before anything escalated, but his hand pulled you back towards him.

you two were on a trip with his family and this was your first time meeting everybody. the whole situation made you so nervous and you were trying to be extra cautious this time around. it didn’t help that the walls of the room you were staying in were extremely thin.

he smiled to himself as he hugged your waist.

“i just want to kiss you. won’t that be okay?” he looked up at you with his pretty eyes secretly knowing that you always let him have his way. you were still standing next to the bed as he clung onto you. you finally nodded your head in agreement and began to play with his hair. although you couldn’t see it, you knew he he was grinning.

he gently pulled the bottom of your shirt up just enough to reveal some of your stomach. his soft hands roamed the exposed area before he began to plant open mouthed kisses. he looked up at you as he marked your stomach, knowing it drove you crazy. you gasped as he kissed and touched your body, loving every inch of you. you felt your knees weaken and you tugged at his hair.

“lay next to me baby.” he mumbled into your skin.

you knew you wouldn’t be able to stand much longer, so you complied.

the second you laid down beside him, he started to kiss your neck, letting one of his hands push your shirt up even further, exposing your bare chest.

“fuck.” he breathed out.

he groped your breasts, slightly brushing over your erect nipples, making you whimper. once he noticed the effect this had on you, he pinched one of them, causing you to bite back a squeal. it was becoming harder for you to keep quiet. your hand reached out to grab his wrists as you stared at him sternly.

he looked into your eyes innocently, acting oblivious.

“y-you said kissing only…” you spoke in a hushed, breathy tone.

he nodded and placed his hand around your waist instead. he leaned in and began to kiss you softly, slowly sneaking in his tongue. it didn’t take long for the kiss to become messy and needy. both of you exchanging saliva and exploring each others mouths. he pulled away and frantically started to place wet kisses on your chest, his lips grazing over your breasts, causing you to clench your thighs together. you felt him smirking against your skin.

he placed a few quick kisses on your breasts before he placed one in his warm mouth, letting his tongue swirl around your sensitive bud before gently sucking. your hand began to grip the bed sheets and you let your eyes roll back.

“jake…” you whined.

his mouth let go of your breast with a pop. a string of saliva keeping him connected to you.

“they’re only kisses baby.” he whispered back. you hummed in agreement, unable to disagree with him due to the fact your mind was clouded with pleasure.

he moved lower and positioned his face in between your legs, kissing your pelvic bone. your breath hitched as you felt his sloppy kisses getting lower and lower, until he reached your aching core. he paused and looked up at you, admiring your expression.

his thumb brushed over your clothed pussy, feeling how wet you were already. your slick was seeping through your thin panties, transferring onto his thumb. he gave a slow kitten lick with his thick tongue letting you feel the warmth and wetness of his mouth and then placed painfully slow kisses where you wanted him the most. his nose prodded at your clit from time to time. you hummed and bit your lip to keep yourself from making any noise. you were out of breath and couldn’t stay still.

“only. kisses.” he softly mumbled in between each kiss. his gaze seemed sinister now, he was enjoying how much control he had over you at the moment.

his fingers started playing with the hem of your underwear, stroking your hip bone.

“i would love to take this off for you, you’ll feel so good princess. please?”

you couldn’t form a coherent sentence so you hummed and bucked your hips up as a response.

he slowly slid off your panties and immediately started making out with your cunt, his hungry kisses making you lose your mind. the lewd noises of him lapping up your juices and sucking your clit filling up the room.

you felt yourself getting close and you weren’t sure if you could hold back your moans any longer.

“j-jake we shouldn’t-“ before you could finish your sentence, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and you both quickly sat up, trying to recollect yourselves. you held your breath, expecting someone to knock on the door. after a while of waiting, it seemed that whoever came upstairs had left. jake gently placed his hand on your chin, making you look up at him. his lips hovered over yours.

“let me help you finish, love.”

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livelaughlovewjungwon · 1 year ago

Text

the long way home — park sunghoon

SYNOPSIS. To you, Park Sunghoon is like the moon.

PAIRING. sunghoon x y/n ft jake

GENRE. high school au, fluff, angst, sunghoon sucks at emotions

WORD COUNT. 4.8k

RELEASE DATE. 11.05.2023

A/N. feedback is appreciated! experimented with writing style so sorry if this is bad and makes no sense 💔 enjoy 🙏

"Two cotton candies, please."

The first time Park Sunghoon speaks to you, you're dressed head-to-toe in a blinding, neon pink.

The fundraiser uniform was your co-president's idea. She'd suggested it offhandedly in a delirious, late-night planning session, and in a rather unserious fashion, you'd agreed. It's hilarity overruled any embarrassment bundled with it.

When Park Sunghoon is the one standing in front of you, embarrassment crashes into you with the force of an eighteen wheeler.

His presence is overwhelming. It looms over you as you prepare his order. It sends a shiver down your spine, which is absurd when you've never even met him.

Someone could tell you that Sunghoon lives on a completely separate plane of existence and you'd believe them without thinking twice.

He's the basketball team's star player. He adorns the number twenty-three with poise and grace. He's the principal actor in people's dreams and fantasies.

To you, Park Sunghoon is like the moon.

Beautiful, and so, so far away.

The two cotton candies you hand him are less than perfect. Without much thought, a mumbled apology falls from your lips. He still accepts them with a polite smile. It sends a nervous jolt to your chest.

You watch him as he walks away and joins Jake Sim's side, handing him one of the cotton candies.

You know Jake Sim from your physics class. He catches your eye and sends you a friendly wave. You shoot him one back before hastily turning around.

A second later and you would have noticed Sunghoon's gaze, lingering.

Tuesday after school, Sunghoon agrees to meet with Jay and Jake in the East Wing.

He leans against a locker, watching his two friends bicker with each other. Occasionally cracking a smile when one of them says something particularly nonsensical.

Someone rushes past him. His breath hitches. Gaze flickering. When they stop in front of a classroom door, Sunghoon realizes it's you.

You knock on the door. While you wait, he takes you in.

The way your yellow sundress hugs your body in all of the right places. The way the pearl barrettes clipped to your hair reflect the afternoon sun. The way you tug the sleeves of your cardigan down over your hands. Sunghoon has the urge to roll them back up and interlock his fingers with yours.

Each second Sunghoon spends taking you in, his chest grows tighter.

The metal behind him is suddenly freezing to the touch. It bleeds through the fabric of his shirt. Pierces his shoulder blades. Is he shivering? He doesn't know.

The classroom door is opened. Another girl appears in the threshold, an easy smile on her face. The two of you exchange words before breaking out into giggles.

Park Sunghoon takes notice of you.

There’s a part of him that finds it unbelievable that he hadn’t done it earlier. There’s another that is deeply unsettled about it happening at all.

Either way, he takes great care in memorizing the outline of your figure. Grasping onto each note of your laughter.

Sunghoon bails on this week's team outing. His reason is that he has an important language arts assignment due at 11:59PM.

He isn't lying. His teacher had carved the words ‘no excuses’ into the very core of his being.

When the words on his page start looking like globs of nonsense, Sunghoon’s mind drifts.

The basketball season begins soon. Who is the first game against?

He searches up the school website intending to find the season schedule.

He pauses when he sees a photo of you.

It’s from the other day. The same day Sunghoon saw you in that pretty sundress. You’re watching the other people in the photo strike funny poses with a soft, tender smile on your lips.

The list of names goes left to right, top to bottom. Sunghoon’s eyes dart around.

L/N Y/N.

That night, Sunghoon has an important language arts assignment due at 11:59PM. His teacher had carved the words ‘no excuses’ into the very core of his being.

That night, Sunghoon spends his time learning about you.

Curiosity spared no mercy for the cat. You pray it's kinder to you.

There are three other water fountains located around the school, all perfectly capable of refilling your water bottle. Yet, their existence escapes you when you realize the person using the one you'd chosen to go to is Park Sunghoon.

You try to leave. You can't. His presence binds the soles of your feet to the tiles of the floor.

The first game of the season is a few, short weeks away. The air is full of the distant screeching of basketballs. Sunghoon's hair is damp with sweat. His arms and nape glisten under the fluorescent lighting.

Sunghoon's lips leave the jet of water. A loud exhale follows. You watch as he wipes harshly at the corners of his mouth.

When he turns around, his eyes widen. He looks surprised to see you.

Why wouldn't he? The two of you are strangers. Mutuals, at best.

Yet, he doesn't move from his spot. He doesn't cast his eyes away or walk past you.

His stare is heavy. You feel like he's peering into your soul. Judging it. Tearing it to shreds.

He silently moves to the side. You realize he's making way for you to use the fountain. Embarrassment floods your system.

The sound of running water ceases when your foot lifts off the pedal. A double twist ensures the cap of your bottle is screwed shut. You're set to leave.

But a hand encircles your wrist, stopping you. Spinning you around.

You're inches away from Park Sunghoon.

You're shocked.

You don't tug away.

Your eyes dart around his face, searching for an explanation. His expression is indecipherable. He suddenly won't meet your gaze, only unravelling your closed fist with gentle fingers.

You notice a slip of paper clasped in his hold. You watch it as he places it into your open palm.

His voice is near silent. Words evaporating when they leave his lips and hit air. You manage to catch them before they're completely gone.

"Call me."

When Sunghoon is sure the slip is securely slotted in your hand, he leaves.

There is an unfathomable amount of things Sunghoon's worried about. You throwing his number away. Laughing at him. Thinking he's a freak.

But in the deepest part of his brain, where he keeps his muscle memory of how to ride a bike or snap his fingers, the voice of his first ever coach resounds; something about missing one hundred percent of the shots he never takes. Sunghoon thinks he's heard it more in his lifetime than he's heard his own name.

It dawns on him that you being in his life, as even just the smallest of features, was not a shot he was willing to ruin.

You call Sunghoon at a quarter past midnight.

The clock on your wall ticks loudly, mocking you for taking so long.

You don't expect him to pick up at all. You don't need him to. Hearing his voicemail would be enough to assure you that what had happened was real. That it wasn't a figment of your imagination.

Park Sunghoon had left you paralyzed. All of your work had been neglected because of that crinkled slip of paper.

It's been on the edge of your desk for hours. It taunts you.

When you will yourself to call him, you had climbed onto your bed. The slip of paper stayed on your desk, untouched.

You didn't need it to call him. The digits of his phone number were already engraved in your head from how many times you thumbed over them on the way home from school.

The line rings. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Hello?"

You finally breathe.

"Sunghoon?"

A pause. Shuffling sounds from the receiver. "Y/N?"

"You told me to call you."

"I'm happy you did."

You hear the sound of birds singing.

You wonder if it's coming from outside or the other end of the line.

"Sunghoon?"

"Mm?"

"It's nearly six. We have school soon."

A huff. "Shit."

You break out into a smile.

Sunghoon makes hours feel like seconds. Conversation flows between the two of you with the ease of changing seasons. You don't think you could ever grow tired of listening to his voice.

There's a certain playful lilt to it. Teasing, yet kind. Each syllable spoken with a gentleness you can't quite grasp. Each boyish laugh that leaves his lips sweeping you off your feet. When periods of silence dotted your conversations, his slow breaths filled them in.

He had yawned, here and there. You told him to go to sleep. He refused. You didn't protest. Selfishly, you wanted to have him for a bit longer.

You can't discern what about him makes your insides turn upside down. He makes you feel vulnerable. All he'd have to do is ask and you'd be willing to bare your soul to him.

You decide you're okay with that.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Talk to you soon?"

"Yeah."

Your friendship with Sunghoon is a quiet one.

It's found behind small actions that seem to communicate everything.

Candies slipped into lockers. Split-second eye contact in the halls. Candid photos of each other in the courtyard. Your eyes searching the cluster of players during games from above, his searching each row of the bleachers from on the court.

It's hidden away from prying eyes, and that makes you cherish it even more.

At the first game of the season, Park Sunghoon scores a tie-breaking basket just as the countdown hit zero.

The gymnasium erupts into a thundering ovation. His teammates roar with victory. Tackling him to the ground. Clapping him on the back. Hoisting him into the air, tossing him up. Your heart lurches at the absolutely radiant smile on his face.

Chants of his name fill the entire venue. The commentator's voice booms through the speakers. Ladies and gentlemen, number twenty-three: Park Sunghoon.

You silently watch the scene, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

The difference between the intensity of a crowd and the stillness of the night air is jarring.

Park Sunghoon confuses you. You don't know how he has the opportunity or the desire to meet you after the game. He should be out with his teammates celebrating.

Instead, you receive a message to wait by the West gate.

Tonight is colder than usual. Icy wind grazes your bare knees. As you wait, anticipation knocks at your front door. You let it in when you catch sight of Sunghoon making his way towards you, a golden medal dangling from his neck.

He's glowing. Victory looks good on him.

A gasp escapes you when your feet leave the ground. Sunghoon spins you around in his arms, adorable giggles falling from his lips. Blissful warmth sprawls across your chest, seeping in every crevice.

"Tonight's MVP and you still have time to spare for me?" you tease, eyes shining.

"I have all the time in the world for you."

Sunghoon recounts the game with fervor. Galaxies swirl in his irises. You wonder if you'd ever feel as elated as he looks.

When he embraces you again, head slotting into the crook of your neck, holding you like he never wants to let go, your wonders are answered.

Park Sunghoon does not idle.

He walks with a destination in mind. He gives courteous greetings to those who he passes by in the halls, but his movements never stop.

The only thing Sunghoon willingly stops for is the sunset.

On days where he leaves school late, he takes the long way home. Down a street lined with yellow ginkgo trees, a left turn too early. Across the bridge bound for the city centre.

The long way home never really takes him home.

Sunghoon ends up on a pier in the harbour, letting vermillion and marigold rays of warmth soak into each pore of his skin. Unwinding with a low puff of air.

Recently, Sunghoon stops for you, too.

Whenever he sees you, there's a stutter in his strides. A stiffness in his fingers. A clog in his airway. The world around him starts to spin, yet he himself freezes.

The next time Sunghoon takes the long way home, he stays with the sunset for longer than usual. He sits instead of standing, letting his feet dangle off of the pier's edge. It makes the sloshing sound of the water below him even clearer.

Sunghoon closes his eyes. He inhales the salty, sweet air. Feels his teammates hugging him. Hears hundreds of people chanting his name.

Sunghoon closes his eyes, and sees you.

It takes ten games for defeat to seize Sunghoon by the throat.

Under the dim light of the locker room, Jake eyes his friend warily. He searches for any sign of emotion in the lines of his stone cold face. If he didn't know him any better, he'd believe he's simply reserved.

But Jake Sim has spent too much time uncovering Park Sunghoon to be ignorant to his character.

He’s torturing himself.

"Jay," Jake whispers. Caution laces his voice. "I feel like we should do something."

Jay's eyes flit over Sunghoon's figure. The air is heavy before he responds.

"I think it’s best we don’t pry."

When the sound of their steps fade away, Park Sunghoon drives his fist into a locker door.

He knew something was off. When their score plateaued while the opposition's climbed. Frowns painted themselves on his teammates' faces. Shots kept getting fumbled. Intercepted. Rolling off the rim.

Sunghoon feels his knuckles throb as he lets his hand fall to the side.

Anger and guilt are a dangerous pairing. They swirl in the pit of his stomach like a storm and render him feeling weak.

He hates how badly he's taking this.

"Sunghoon!"

Peace of mind reaches out to him in the form of anxious footsteps.

From around the wall, you appear. Worry taints your features. It's a blow to the stomach for him. "I- I was waiting for you outside but I heard a noise-"

In two urgent strides, Park Sunghoon's lips are on yours.

Time pauses. Uncertainty hangs in the air. Sunghoon is racing at a million miles an hour.

When he feels you kissing back, he crashes.

Anger and guilt are a dangerous pairing. They join forces and leave desperation in their wake.

Sunghoon kisses you harder. He wants you to fill in all of the parts that feel empty. He wants you to help him feel whole.

You're pliant under his fingers, back slightly arching whenever he squeezes your waist. Sunghoon revels in the gasp that leaves your mouth when his hands slide under your shirt and paint landscapes on the expanse of your back. It's music to his ears. He records it in his mind before drowning it out with another searing kiss.

When you part to catch your breath, your forehead instantly presses to his. Chasing his touch, craving more of his skin against yours.

You look up at Sunghoon. His eyes are downcast to the floor. He feels your hand travel up to his hair, gently pulling on it. A silent plead.

He doesn't meet your gaze. He's floating. Adrift at a lawless sea. His palms continue to rub up and down your sides.

Sunghoon doesn't know how long the two of you spend in each other's arms. He doesn't want to know. Knowing would define a beginning and an end.

Sunghoon never wants this to end.

Seven days.

It's been seven days since Park Sunghoon last spoke to you.

With the way he walks past you without a mere glance, you wonder if what happened was even real.

But, you can still feel it. You can still feel him.

He had kissed you in that locker room. He had stolen the air from your lungs and never returned it. His scorching hands had burned themselves into your skin.

You pass him in the hall wordlessly. That's how it's always been, except there's no more eye contact that asks silent questions of 'How are you?" and speaks delicate words of "I'm happy to see you today."

Every one of your waking hours is spent wondering what went wrong.

You begin to neglect assignments and reject invitations to go out. Teachers eye you with concern. Friends ask if you've been feeling off. Everyone spares you a glance and a hushed whisper, except Sunghoon.

A frustrated hand cards through your hair.

Do you consume his mind as much as he consumes yours?

The hateful part of you prays it does. Prays that he's getting a taste of his own, cruel medicine.

When you lie in bed, you peer out of your window. The moon glows as brightly as ever. Oblivious to your broken resolve.

To you, Park Sunghoon had always been like the moon. Beautiful, and so, so far away.

Except, for once, he didn't.

He didn't feel so far away when his lips were on yours, hands roaming your bare back, rough fingertips grazing your sides. When your breathing had mixed into one exchange. He'd felt so, so close.

If only you knew he was going to be out of reach again so quickly.

For someone who's ranked 230th out of 239 students, Jake Sim is exceptionally sharp.

With a gentle tug aside to an empty classroom, he asks you the question you've lost nights worth of sleep over in a single, easy breath.

"What's going on between you and Sunghoon?"

You shift uncomfortably in your spot. The straps of your bag were suddenly too tight, suffocating you.

You take your time loosening them. Jake only watches you silently.

You're exploiting his patience. Trying to dodge the inevitable. But, what can you do? Confrontation frightens you to no end.

You choose the easy way out: you tell a bad lie.

"Nothing's going on between Sunghoon and I. What business could I possibly have with Park Sunghoon, of all people?"

Jake subtly rolls his eyes. He can tell that you don't even believe your own words.

"I might've believed you if I hadn't seen the way you look at him in the hall, Y/N. I can tell Sunghoon's been off, too. He's all tensed up."

For a second, you rejoice. You haven't been the only one losing yourself to blurred lines and longing.

When that second is over, emptiness settles back into you. "I see."

"I didn't know the two of you knew each other," Jake muses innocently.

It takes all of your strength to turn away from him and grasp the door handle.

"We don't."

Desperation doesn't overpower fear. Fear is still there as you march up to Park Sunghoon's table in the cafeteria.

You just simply cannot take it anymore.

Jake notices you before Sunghoon does. He isn't any closer to discovering what had happened between the two of you. Your entire relation leaves him at a loss.

But, he can tell by the way the smile you flash him in greeting doesn't reach your eyes. The way your gaze immediately falls back onto Sunghoon with melancholy.

You're tired.

Lightly, he kicks Sunghoon in the shin. Jake ignores the glare he receives, only nodding his head towards you. He's praying he's done you a favour.

For the first time in weeks, Park Sunghoon looks you in the eye.

His silence stifles the rest of the table. Their attention weighs heavy on your shoulders.

Fear looms much closer and higher than before. Fear is about to pinch your nose until you pass out cold.

"Sunghoon."

His name is already bitter on your tongue. Is it from all the times you've cursed it in your head?

He stares at you before redirecting his gaze to his food. Like you're some sort of eyesore.

Fear drops to the ground, dead.

"Park Sunghoon, what is your problem?"

Whispers surround you. Chills travel the length of your spine.

You think back to your brief conversation with Jake. How you had said there was nothing happening between you and Sunghoon, and how evident it now is that all of that was bullshit.

But now, you couldn't care if the whole universe is privy to you and Sunghoon's relationship.

All you want is to know is what realization he had. In this moment, you're desperate to realize it too.

"When will you cut the shit?"

Silence. A fork scraps against a plate.

"You know, Sunghoon. I've thought many things of you. How could I not? The school's star athlete who has everyone at his feet."

A dry laugh, a nervous glance to the side.

"You had me, too."

Sunghoon's knuckles turn white from how harshly he grips his fork.

"Never did I think of you to be a coward."

The sound of your steps bounce off the walls. Every pair of eyes in the room trails behind you, this time, including Sunghoon's.

His brain is a broken record machine. Replaying your words again, again, and again.

What is Park Sunghoon so... afraid of?

What is he so defenseless against that it's worth seeing the lights in your eyes die?

Sunghoon doesn't know what compels him to ignore you. To walk past you each day, as if you didn't convince him that happiness doesn't exist anywhere except for in your arms.

Perhaps, it's that you are a whirlwind of unfamiliarity. An onslaught of foreign emotions. You make him unsure of what to do with himself. Perhaps he finds it easier to avoid that than to approach it.

He's been so adept at pushing it away, that he doesn't realize you're slipping through his fingers until his head is an echo chamber of your words.

He had you.

"Sunghoon..." A voice cuts through the fog. Sunghoon isn't sure which of his friends it belongs to. From the intonation, he assumes that it's Jake.

"Whatever this is, you've got to fix it."

Sunghoon has listened to your voicemail play six times. He's been trying for an answer, yet he doesn't mind dialling for a seventh.

You sound happy in your voicemail. He never wants to forget what you sound like happy.

"H-Hello?"

Sunghoon's been lingering at the summit of a cliff. Carefully composing himself to avoid slipping off the edge.

When he hears how utterly broken your voice is, suddenly, he's plummeting.

"Sunghoon?"

Falling, falling, falling—

A sniffle, followed by an impatient sigh. "Sunghoon, if you're just going to waste my time-"

"I'm outside."

Sunghoon closes his eyes. He sees the ridges and lines of your front door. He thinks they're permanently printed into his eyelids from how long he's been standing on your doorstep.

Don't hang up. Don't hang up.

"What?"

Sunghoon opens his eyes.

"I'm outside your door."

In his peripheral, the curtains of a window crack open. His heartbeat reaches his ears. You don't question him any further, but he hears distant footsteps from your end of the line.

The front door opens, then stops. Ajar. Hesitating.

Sunghoon knows you're on the other side. He prays you don't retract your movements.

You don't. You push through.

When you appear in the doorway, his breath dies in his throat.

Slightly bloodshot eyes. Strands of hair astray, haphazardly held together with a claw clip. A large sweatshirt swallowing your frame.

Sunghoon doesn't think he's ever seen anyone as beautiful as you.

He should've spoken by now. He'd planned on speaking by now, yet all he can do is look at you. Eyes trailing over every delicate curve. The slope of your nose, the moles on your hands.

When he hears the small sigh leave your lips, he knows you're slipping away.

His brain goes into overdrive. He needs to act fast.

Frantically, he clears his throat.

"Come watch the sunset with me."

A breeze blows by. The neighbour's wind chimes knock together, playing a soft jingle.

"Please."

The only words you speak to Sunghoon on the bus are to ask where you're going.

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, remaining silent.

You close your eyes. Surrendering. You're so sick of his silence.

You shouldn't have come. You're stupid to have believed otherwise—

"Don't."

Eyes snap open.

You turn to look at Sunghoon. You find that he's already looking at you.

"Don't- don't regret this," he pleads. Desperation pours from his voice. You would've scoffed if he wasn't wearing the rawest expression you've lived to see.

Park Sunghoon leaves you in despair.

No matter which lens you look at him through, he has no solution. He's wrung you dry of hope, yet you don't find yourself objecting when he brings your head onto his shoulder. His hastiness screams craving for proximity. Craving for reassurance.

Deep down, you know you're just the same.

You let Sleep take you.

It's the soundest you've slept in weeks.

You've seen the sunset thousands of times in your life.

From every place you've ever been. School grounds. Your bedroom. The drive home. Through the eyes of others.

And yet, none of those thousands of times hold a candle to the sight from the pier.

"It's beautiful," you breathe out.

A small hum in agreement. You smile weakly.

You know he isn't looking at the sunset, but you don't face him just yet.

"Sunghoon?"

He steps closer.

"What happened?"

You can feel him stiffen. Your eyes never tear from the vermillion sky. You're not sure if you're paralyzed by beauty, or by fear.

A head drops onto your shoulder. Its weight is comforting. Slowly, he readjusts himself to stand in front of you. Face pressing into your neck. Hands wrapping around your waist, holding on like you'd disappear if he let go.

His body shakes with each breath. It takes every bit of your resolve to not wrap your arms around him.

You let Park Sunghoon cry on your shoulder.

You don't think you'd ever deny him of it.

The sun doesn't budge from where it sits in the sky. It seems to be waiting for the two of you.

When Sunghoon peels his face away from you, you finally look at him. You can feel your heart fall apart in your chest.

Park Sunghoon is more beautiful than any sunset you'll ever see.

A careful hand reaches up. It barely rests against his jaw. You nearly chuckle at how he instantly leans into your touch.

He's staring at you through half-lidded eyes. Slightly parted lips. A gaze filled with longing, remorse, and a million unspoken words.

He leans in, nose brushing against yours. Before he can mouth the words he wants to say, you meet him half way.

The kiss is slow. Delicate. Fragile. Sunghoon is too scared to treat you as anything less.

It lacks the hunger of the one before. Your body is pulled flush against his. He's trying to convey thousands of apologies all at once. Hoping his sincerity can penetrate your skin, travel through your veins, and reach your soul. The way he's kissing you is heart-wrenching.

"I-" he gasps when you part. "Please. Please forgive me."

"Come back to me," you croak. "Why did you shut me out?"

He presses kisses to your jaw, then to your cheek. His hands slide up to your cup your face.

"Because I love you."

You close your eyes. Soaking in each sacred word that falls from his lips. Shuddering.

You feel like crying.

"I love you so much that I don't know what to do with myself. With you, nothing feels real. Time stops ticking. Everyone else fades into oblivion, and I feel like I'm on top of the fucking world," he whispers, voice wet and rushed.

Your forehead connects with his. A gentle rhythm is tapped onto his nape with the intention of calming him down.

"I've never felt like this before. I- I just-"

Sunghoon's face twists. He's fighting against his emotions.

You watch as he deflates.

"Please... find it in your heart to forgive me."

A small smile graces your face.

Under the glow of the setting sun, everything is okay.

"Stop staring at me like that."

Sunghoon peers up at you from your lap. His face glows golden.

A mischievous smile appears on his face. It infects you like a virus.

"Is it illegal for me to admire my girlfriend?"

"Yes." You shoot him with a finger gun. "Hands up."